diff options
Diffstat (limited to '8572.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 8572.txt | 21562 |
1 files changed, 21562 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/8572.txt b/8572.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a85f4cc --- /dev/null +++ b/8572.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21562 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cord and Creese, by James de Mille + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cord and Creese + +Author: James de Mille + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8572] +This file was first posted on July 24, 2003 +Last Updated: June 3, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORD AND CREESE *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +CORD AND CREESE + + +By James De Mille + + +The Author Of "The Dodge Club" + + + +CORD AND CREESE + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE SEA. + +On the morning of July 21, 1840, the _Daily News_ announced the +arrival of the ship _Rival_ at Sydney, New South Wales. As ocean steam +navigation had not yet extended so far, the advent of this ship with +the English mail created the usual excitement. An eager crowd beset the +post-office, waiting for the delivery of the mail; and little knots at +the street corners were busily discussing the latest hints at news +which had been gathered from papers brought ashore by the officers or +passengers. + +At the lower end of King Street was a large warehouse, with an office at +the upper extremity, over which was a new sign, which showed with newly +gilded letters the words: + +COMPTON & BRANDON. + +The general appearance of the warehouse showed that Messrs. Compton and +Brandon were probably commission merchants, general agents, or something +of that sort. + +On the morning mentioned two men were in the inner office of this +warehouse. One was an elderly gentleman, with a kind, benevolent aspect, +the senior partner of the firm. The other was the junior partner, and in +every respect presented a marked contrast to his companion. + +He had a face of rather unusual appearance, and an air which in England +is usually considered foreign. His features were regular--a straight +nose, wide brow, thin lips, and square, massive chin. His complexion was +olive, and his eyes were of a dark hazel color, with a peculiarity about +them which is not usually seen in the eye of the Teutonic or Celtic +race, but is sometimes found among the people of the south of Europe, or +in the East. It is difficult to find a name for this peculiarity. It may +be seen sometimes in the gipsy; sometimes in the more successful +among those who call themselves "spiritual mediums," or among the more +powerful mesmerizers. Such an eye belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte, whose +glance at times could make the boldest and greatest among his marshals +quail. What is it? Magnetism? Or the revelation of the soul? Or what? + +In this man there were other things which gave him the look of the great +Napoleon. The contour of feature was the same: and on his brow, broad +and massive, there might be seen those grand shadows with which French +artists love to glorify the Emperor. Yet in addition to this he had that +same serene immobility of countenance which characterized the other, +which could serve as an impenetrable mask to hide even the intensest +person. + +There was also about this man a certain aristocratic air and grace of +attitude, or of manner, which seemed to show lofty birth and gentle +breeding, the mysterious index to good blood or high training. How such +a man could have happened to fill the position of junior partner in a +commission business was certainly a problem not easily solved. There he +was, however, a man in appearance out of place, yet in reality able +to fill that place with success; a man, in fact, whose resolute will +enabled him to enforce success in any calling of life to which either +outside circumstances or his own personal desires might invite him. + +"The mail ought to be open by this time," said Brandon, indifferently, +looking at his watch. "I am somewhat curious to see how things are +looking. I noticed quotations of wool rather higher than by last mail. +If the papers are correct which I saw then we ought to do very well by +that last cargo." + +Mr. Compton smiled. + +"Well, Brandon," said he, "if it is so it will show that you are right. +You anticipated a rise about this time, you know. You certainly have a +remarkable forecast about the chances of business." + +"I don't think there is much forecast," said Brandon, with a smile. "It +was only the most ordinary calculation made from the well-known fact +that the exportation this year had been slight. But there comes Hedley +now," he continued, moving his head a little to one side so as to look +up the street. "The letters will soon show us all." + +Mr. Compton looked out in the direction which Brandon indicated and saw +the clerk approaching. He then settled himself back in his chair, +put his hands in his pockets, threw one leg over the other, and began +whistling a tune with the air of a man who was so entirely prosperous +and contented that no news whether good or evil could greatly affect his +fortunes. + +In a short time the clerk entered the inner office and, laying the +letters down upon the table nearest Mr. Compton, he withdrew. + +Mr. Compton took up the letters one by one and read the addresses, while +Brandon looked carelessly on. There were ten or twelve of them, all +of which, except one, were addressed to the firm. This one Mr. Compton +selected from among the others, and reaching it out in his hand said: + +"This is for you, Mr. Brandon." + +"For me?" repeated Brandon, with marked surprise; and taking the letter +he looked at the address with eager curiosity. + +The address was simply as follows: + + Louis Brandon, + Sydney, New South Wales. + +The letters were irregular and loosely formed, as though written by +a tremulous hand--such letters as old men form when the muscles have +become relaxed. + +Mr. Compton went on opening the letters of the firm without taking any +further notice of his partner. The latter sat for some time looking at +the letter without venturing to open it. He held it in both hands, and +looked fixedly at that address as though from the address itself he was +trying to extort some meaning. + +He held it thus in both hands looking fixedly at it, with his head +bent forward. Had Mr. Compton thought of taking a look at his usually +impassive companion, he would have been surprised at the change which +had taken place in him at the mere sight of that tremulous handwriting. +For in that he had read grief, misfortune, perhaps death; and as he sat +there, pausing before he dared to break the seal, the contents of the +letter had already been conjectured. + +Gloom therefore unutterable gathered upon his face; his features fixed +themselves into such rigidity of grief that they became more expressive +than if they had been distorted by passionate emotions; and over his +brow collected cloud upon cloud, which deepened and darkened every +instant till they overshadowed all; and his face in its statuesque +fixedness resembled nothing so much as that which the artist gives to +Napoleon at the crisis hour of Waterloo, when the Guard has recoiled +from its last charge, and from that Imperial face in its fixed agony the +soul itself seems to cry, "Lost!" "Lost!" + +Yet it was only for a few minutes. Hastily subduing his feeling Brandon +rose, and clutching the letter in his hand as though it were too +precious to be trusted to his pocket, he quietly left the office and the +warehouse and walked up the street. + +He walked on rapidly until he reached a large building which bore the +sign "Australian Hotel." Here he entered, and walked up stairs to a +room, and locked himself in. Then when alone in his own apartments he +ventured to open the letter. + +The paper was poor and mean; the handwriting, like that of the address, +was tremulous, and in many places quite illegible; the ink was pale; +and the whole appearance of the letter seemed to indicate poverty and +weakness on the part of the writer. By a very natural impulse Brandon +hesitated before beginning to read, and took in all these things with a +quick glance. + +At last he nerved himself to the task and began to read. + +This was the letter. + +"Brandon, March 10, 1846. + +"My dear Boy,--These are the last words which you will ever hear from +your father. I am dying, my dear boy, and dying of a broken heart; but +_where_ I am dying I am afraid to tell you. That bitterness I leave +for you to find out some day for yourself. In poverty unspeakable, in +anguish that I pray you may never know, I turn to you after a silence of +years, and my first word is to implore your forgiveness. I know my noble +boy that you grant it, and it is enough for me to ask it. After asking +this I can die content on that score. + +"Lying as I do now at the point of death, I find myself at last freed +from the follies and prejudices which have been my ruin. The clouds roll +away from my mind, and I perceive what a mad fool I have been for years. +Most of all I see the madness that instigated me to turn against you, +and to put against the loyal love of the best of sons my own miserable +pride and the accusation of a lying scoundrel. May God have mercy upon +me for this! + +"I have not much strength, dear boy; I have to write at intervals, and +by stealth, so as not to be discovered, for I am closely watched. _He_ +must never know that I have sent this to you. Frank and your mother are +both sick, and my only help is your sister, my sweet Edith, she watches +me, and enables me to write this in safety. + +"I must tell you all without reserve before strength leaves me forever. + +"That man Potts, whom you so justly hated, was and is the cause of all +my suffering and of yours. You used to wonder how such a man as that, a +low, vulgar knave, could gain such an influence over me and sway me as +he did. I will try to explain. + +"Perhaps you remember something about the lamentable death of my old +friend Colonel Despard. The first that I ever heard of this man Potts +was in his connection with Despard, for whom he acted partly as valet, +and partly as business agent. Just before Despard left to go on +his fatal voyage he wrote to me about his affairs, and stated, in +conclusion, that this man Potts was going to England, that he was sorry +to lose him, but recommended him very earnestly to me. + +"You recollect that Colonel Despard was murdered on this voyage under +very mysterious circumstances on shipboard. His Malay servant Uracao +was convicted and executed. Potts distinguished himself by his zeal in +avenging his master's death. + +"About a year after this Potts himself came to England and visited me. +He was, as you know, a rough, vulgar man; but his connection with my +murdered friend, and the warm recommendations of that friend, made me +receive him with the greatest kindness. Besides, he had many things +to tell me about my poor friend, and brought the newspapers both from +Manilla and Calcutta which contained accounts of the trial. + +"It was this man's desire to settle himself somewhere, and I gave him +letters to different people. He then went off, and I did not see him for +two years. At the end of that time he returned with glowing accounts of +a tin mine which he was working in Cornwall. He had bought it at a low +price, and the returns from working it had exceeded his most sanguine +expectations. He had just organized a company, and was selling the +stock. He came first to me to let me take what I wished. I carelessly +took five thousand pounds' worth. + +[Illustration: "EDITH SHE WATCHES ME, AND ENABLES ME TO WRITE THIS IN +SAFETY."] + +"On the following year the dividend was enormous, being nearly sixty per +cent. Potts explained to me the cause, declaring that it was the richest +mine in the kingdom, and assuring me that my L5000 was worth ten times +that sum. His glowing accounts of the mine interested me greatly. +Another year the dividend was higher, and he assured me that he expected +to pay cent. per cent. + +"It was then that the demon of avarice took full possession of me. +Visions of millions came to me, and I determined to become the richest +man in the kingdom. After this I turned every thing I had into money to +invest in the mine. I raised enormous sums on my landed estate, and +put all that I was worth, and more too, into the speculation. I was +fascinated, not by this man, but by the wealth that he seemed to +represent. I believed in him to the utmost. In vain my friends warned +me. I turned from them, and quarreled with most of them. In my madness +I refused to listen to the entreaties of my poor wife, and turned even +against you. I can not bear to allude to those mournful days when you +denounced that villain to his face before me; when I ordered you to +beg his pardon or leave my roof forever; when you chose the latter +alternative and became an outcast. My noble boy--my true-hearted son, +that last look of yours, with all its reproach, is haunting my dying +hours. If you were only near me now how peacefully I could die! + +"My strength is failing. I can not describe the details of my ruin. +Enough that the mine broke down utterly, and I as chief stockholder +was responsible for all. I had to sell out every thing. The stock was +worthless. The Hall and the estates all went. I had no friend to help +me, for by my madness I had alienated them all. All this came upon me +during the last year. + +"But mark this, my son. This man Potts was _not_ ruined. He seemed to +have grown possessed of a colossal fortune. When I reproached him with +being the author of my calamity, and insisted that he ought to share it +with me, the scoundrel laughed in my face. + +"The Hall and the estates were sold, for, unfortunately, though they +have been in our family for ages, they were not entailed. A feeling of +honor was the cause of this neglect. They were sold, and the purchaser +was this man Potts. He must have bought them with the money that he had +plundered from me. + +"Now, since my eyes have been opened, I have had many thoughts; and +among all that occurs to me none is more prominent than the mysterious +murder of my friend. This man Potts was with him at the time. He was +chief witness against the Malay. The counsel for the defense bore down +hard on him, but he managed to escape, and Uracao was executed. Yet +this much is evident, that Potts was largely benefited by the death +of Despard. He could not have made all his money by his own savings. +I believe that the man who wronged me so foully was fully capable +of murder. So strong is this conviction now that I sometimes have a +superstitious feeling that because I neglected all inquiry into the +death of my friend, therefore he has visited me from that other life, +and punished me, by making the same man the ruin of us both. + +"The mine, I now believe, was a colossal sham; and all the money that +I invested in stocks went directly to Potts. Good God! what madness was +mine! + +"O my boy! Your mother and your brother are lying here sick; your sister +attends on us all, though little more than a child. Soon I must leave +them; and for those who are destined to live there is a future which I +shudder to contemplate. Come home at once. Come home, whatever you are +doing. Leave all business, and all prospects, and come and save them. +That much you can do. Come, if it is only to take them back with you to +that new land where you live, where they may forget their anguish. + +"Come home, my son, and take vengeance. This, perhaps, you can not do, +but you at least can try. By the time that you read these words they +will be my voice from the grave; and thus I invoke you, and call you to +take vengeance. + +"But at least come and save your mother, your brother, and your sister. +The danger is imminent. Not a friend is left. They all hold aloof, +indignant at me. This miscreant has his own plans with regard to them, I +doubt not; and he will disperse them or send them off to starve in some +foreign land. Come and save them. + +"But I warn you to be careful about yourself for their sakes. For this +villain is powerful now, and hates you worse than any body. His arm may +reach even to the antipodes to strike you there. Be on your guard. Watch +every one. For once, from words which fell from him hastily I gathered +that he had some dark plan against you. Trust no one. Rely on yourself, +and may God help you! + +"Poor boy! I have no estate to leave you now, and what I do send to you +may seem to you like a mockery. Yet do not despise it. Who knows what +may be possible in these days of science? Why may it not be possible to +force the sea to give up its prey? + +"I send it, at any rate, for I have nothing else to send. You know that +it has been in our family for centuries, and have heard how stout old +Peter Leggit, with nine sailors, escaped by night through the Spanish +fleet, and what suffering they endured before they reached England. He +brought this, and it has been preserved ever since. A legend has grown +up, as a matter of course, that the treasure will be recovered one day +when the family is at its last extremity. It may not be impossible. The +writer intended that something should come of it. + +"If in that other world to which I am going the disembodied spirit can +assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assist you, and in the crisis +of your fate I will be near, if it is only to communicate to your spirit +what you ought to do. + +"God bless you, dear boy, and farewell. + +"Your affectionate father. + +"RALPH BRANDON." + +This letter was evidently written by fragmentary portions, as though it +had been done at intervals. Some parts were written leisurely--others +apparently in haste. The first half had been written evidently with +the greatest ease. The writing of the last half showed weakness and +tremulousness of hand; many words would have been quite illegible to one +not familiar with the handwriting of the old man. Sometimes the word was +written two or three times, and there were numerous blots and unmeaning +lines. It grew more and more illegible toward the close. Evidently +it was the work of one who was but ill able to exert even sufficient +strength to hold a pen in his trembling hand. + +In this letter there was folded a large piece of coarse paper, evidently +a blank leaf torn from a book, brown with age, which was worn at the +folds, and protected there by pieces of cotton which had been pasted +upon it. The paper was covered with writing, in ink that was much faded, +though still quite legible. + +Opening this Brandon read the following: + +[Illustration: Facsimile of handwritten page reading: + +"One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa +Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am +becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with +spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a +kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles in +countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands +of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl +and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken +alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others +tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this +cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe +that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd +from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like +III needles from the sande. + +"Ralphe Brandon"] + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +A LIFE TRAGEDY. + +Not a word or a gesture escaped Brandon during the perusal, but after +he had finished he read the whole through twice, then laying it down, he +paced up and down the room. His olive skin had become of a sickly tawny +hue, his eyes glowed with intense lustre, and his brow was covered with +those gloomy Napoleonic clouds, but not a nerve was shaken by the shock +of this dread intelligence. + +Evening came and night; and the night passed, and morning came, but it +found him still there pacing the room. + +Earlier than usual next morning he was at the office, and waited for +some time before the senior partner made his appearance. When he came in +it was with a smile on his face, and a general air of congratulation to +all the world. + +"Well, Brandon," said he, cordially, "that last shipment has turned +out finely. More than a thousand pounds. And it's all your doing. I +objected, but you were right. Let me congratulate you." + +Something in Brandon's face seemed to surprise the old gentleman, and +he paused for a moment. "Why what's the matter, my boy?" he said, in +a paternal voice. "You have not heard any bad news, I hope, in that +letter--I hope it's nothing serious?" + +Brandon gave a faint smile. + +"Serious enough," said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, "to put +a sudden end to my Australian career." + +"Oh no--oh no!" said the other, earnestly; "not so bad as that." + +"I must go home at once." + +"Oh well, that may be, but you will be back again. Take a leave of +absence for five years if you wish, but don't quit for good. I'll do the +business and won't complain, my boy. I'll keep your place comfortable +for you till your return." + +Brandon's stern face softened as he looked at the old man, whose +features were filled with the kindest expression, and whose tone showed +the affectionate interest which he felt. + +"Your kindness to me, Mr. Compton," said he, very slowly, and with deep +feeling, "has been beyond all words. Ever since I first came to this +country you have been the truest and the best of friends. I hope you +know me well enough to believe that I can never forget it. But now all +this is at an end, and all the bright prospects that I had here must +give way to the call of the sternest duty. In that letter which I +received last night there came a summons home which I can not neglect, +and my whole life hereafter must be directed toward the fulfillment of +that summons. From mid-day yesterday until dawn this morning I paced +my room incessantly, laying out my plans for the future thus suddenly +thrust upon me, and though I have not been able to decide upon any thing +definite, yet I see plainly that nothing less than a life will enable me +to accomplish my duty. The first thing for me to do is to acquaint you +with this and to give up my part in the business." + +Mr. Compton placed his elbow on the table near which he had seated +himself, leaned his head upon his hand, and looked at the floor. From +Brandon's tone he perceived that this resolution was irrevocable. The +deep dejection which he felt could not be concealed. He was silent for a +long time. + +"God knows," said he, at last, "that I would rather have failed in +business than that this should have happened." + +Brandon looked away and said nothing. + +"It comes upon me so suddenly," he continued. "I do not know what to +think. And how can I manage these vast affairs without your assistance? +For you were the one who did our business. I know that well. I had no +head for it." + +"You can reduce it to smaller proportions." said Brandon; "that can +easily be done." + +The old man sighed. + +"After all," he continued, "it is not the business. It's losing you that +I think of, dear boy. I'm not thinking of the business at all. My grief +is altogether about your departure. I grieve, too, at the blow which +must have fallen on you to make this necessary." + +"The blow is a heavy one," said Brandon; "so heavy that every thing else +in life must be forgotten except the one thought--how to recover from +it; and perhaps, also," he added, in a lower voice, "how to return it." + +Mr. Compton was silent for a long time, and with every minute the deep +dejection of his face and manner increased. He folded his arms and shut +his eyes in deep thought. + +"My boy," said he at last, in that same paternal tone which he had used +before, and in a mild, calm voice. "I suppose this thing can not be +helped, and all that is left for me to do is to bear it as best I may. +I will not indulge in any selfish sorrow in the presence of your greater +trouble. I will rather do all in my power to coincide with your wishes. +I see now that you must have a good reason for your decision, although I +do not seek to look into that reason." + +"Believe me," said Brandon, "I would show you the letter at once, but it +is so terrible that I would rather that you should not know. It is worse +than death, and I do not even yet begin to know the worst." + +The old man sighed, and looked at him with deep commiseration. + +"If our separation must indeed be final," said he, at last, "I will take +care that you shall suffer no loss. You shall have your full share of +the capital." + +"I leave that entirely to you," said Brandon. + +"Fortunately our business is not much scattered. A settlement can easily +be made, and I will arrange it so that you shall not have any loss. Our +balance-sheet was made out only last month, and it showed our firm to be +worth thirty thousand pounds. Half of this is yours, and--" + +"Half!" interrupted the other. "My dear friend, you mean a quarter." + +The old man waved his hand. + +"I said half, and I mean half." + +"I will never consent." + +"You must." + +"Never." + +"You shall. Why, think of the petty business that I was doing when +you came here. I was worth about four thousand. You have built up the +business to its present dimensions. Do you suppose that I don't know?" + +"I can not allow you to make such a sacrifice," said Brandon. + +"Stop," said Mr. Compton. "I have not said all. I attach a condition to +this which I implore you not to refuse. Listen to me, and you will then +be able to see." + +Mr. Compton rose and looked carefully out into the office. There was no +one near. He then returned, locked the door, and drawing his chair close +to Brandon, began, in a low voice: + +"You have your secrets and I have mine. I don't wish to know yours, but +my own I am going to tell to you, not merely for the sake of sympathy, +but rather for the sake of your assistance. I am going to tell you who I +am, and why I came out here. + +"My name is not Compton. It is Henry Lawton. All my early life was +passed at York. There I married, had a son, and lived happily for +years--in fact, during the childhood of my boy. + +"It was that boy of mine, Edgar, that led to all my troubles. I suppose +we indulged him too much. It was natural. He was our only child, and so +we ruined him. He got beyond our control at last and used to run about +the streets of York. I did what I could to save him, but it was too +late. + +"He went on from bad to worse, until at last he got in with a set of +miscreants who were among the worst in the country. My God! to think how +my boy, once a sweet child, could have fallen so low. But he was weak, +and easily led, and so he went on from bad to worse. + +"I can not bear to go into particulars," said the old man, after a long +pause. "I will come at once to point. My poor, wretched boy got in with +these miscreants, as I was telling you, and I did not see him from one +month's end to another. At last a great burglary took place. Three were +arrested. Among these two were old offenders, hardened in vice, the one +named Briggs, the other Crocker; the third was my unhappy boy." + +The old man was silent for some time. + +"I do not think, after all, that he was guilty: but Briggs turned King's +Evidence, and Crocker and my son were condemned to transportation. There +was no help. + +"I sold out all I had in the world, and in compliance with the +entreaties of my poor wife, who nearly went mad with grief, I came out +here. I changed my name to Compton. My boy's term was for three years. I +began a business out here, and as my boy behaved well he was able to get +permission to hire out as a servant. I took him nominally as my servant, +for no one knew that he was my son, and so we had him with us again. + +"I hoped that the bitter lesson which he had learned would prove +beneficial, but I did not know the strength of evil inclinations. As +long as his term of imprisonment lasted he was content and behaved well; +but at last, when the three years were up, he began to grow restive. +Crocker was freed at about the same time and my boy fell again under his +evil influence. This lasted for about a year, when, at last, one morning +a letter was brought me from him stating that he had gone to India. My +poor wife was again nearly distracted. She thought of nothing but her +boy. She made me take her and go in search of him again. So we went +to India. After a long search I found him there, as I had feared, in +connection with his old, vicious associates. True, they had changed +their names, and were trying to pass for honest men. Crocker called +himself Clark, and Briggs called himself Potts." + +"Potts," cried Brandon. + +"Yes," said the other, who was too absorbed in his own thoughts to +notice the surprise of Brandon. "He was in the employ of Colonel +Despard, at Calcutta, and enjoyed much of his confidence." + +"What year was this?" asked Brandon. + +"1825," replied Mr. Compton. "Crocker," he continued, "was acting as a +sort of shipping agent, and my son was his clerk. Of course, my first +efforts were directed toward detaching my son from these scoundrels. +I did all that I could. I offered to give him half of my property, and +finally all, if he would only leave them forever and come back. The +wretched boy refused. He did not appear to be altogether bad, but he had +a weak nature, and could not get rid of the influence of these men. + +"I staid in India for a year and a half, until I found at last that +there was no hope. I could find nothing to do there, and if I remained +I would have to starve or go out to service. This I could not think of +doing. So I prepared to come back here. But my wife refused to leave her +son. She was resolved, she said, to stay by him till the last. I tried +to dissuade her, but could not move her. I told her that I could not +be a domestic. She said that she could do even that for the sake of her +boy. And she went off at once and got a situation as nurse with the same +Colonel Despard with whom Briggs, or, as he called himself, Potts, was +staying." + +"What was the Christian name of this Potts?" asked Brandon, calmly. + +"John--John Potts." + +Brandon said nothing further, and Compton resumed. + +"Thus my wife actually left me. I could not stay and be a slave. So I +made her promise to write me, and told her that I would send her as much +money as I could. She clung to me half broken-hearted as I left her. +Our parting was a bitter one--bitter enough: but I would rather break my +heart with grief than be a servant. Besides, she knew that whenever she +came back my heart was open to receive her. + +"I came back to my lonely life out here and lived for nearly two years. +At last, in September 1828, a mail arrived from India bringing a letter +from my wife and Indian papers. The news which they brought well-nigh +drove me mad." + +Compton buried his face in his hands and remained silent for some time. + +"You couldn't have been more than a child at that time, but perhaps you +may have heard of the mysterious murder of Colonel Despard?" + +He looked inquiringly at Brandon, but the latter gave no sign. + +[Illustration: "THERE'S SOME MYSTERY ABOUT IT WHICH I CAN'T FATHOM."] + +"Perhaps not," he continued--"no: you were too young, of course. Well, +it was in the _Vishnu_, a brig in which the Colonel had embarked for +Manilla. The brig was laden with hogshead staves and box shooks, and +the Colonel went there partly for his health, partly on business, taking +with him his valet Potts." + +"What became of his family?" interrupted Brandon. + +"He had a son in England at school. His wife had died not long before +this at one of the hill stations, where she had gone for her health. +Grief may have had something to do with the Colonel's voyage, for he was +very much attached to his wife. + +"Mails used only to come at long intervals in those days and this one +brought the account not only of the Colonel's fate, but of the trial at +Manilla and the execution of the man that was condemned. + +"It was a very mysterious case. In the month of July a boat arrived at +Manilla which carried the crew and one passenger from the brig +_Vishnu_. One of the men, a Malay named Uracao, was in irons, and he was +immediately given up to the authorities." + +"Who were the others?" + +"Potts, as he called himself, the Colonel's valet, Clark, three Lascars, +and the Captain, an Italian named Cigole. Information was at once laid +against the Malay. Potts was the chief witness. He said that he slept +in the cabin while the Colonel slept in an inner state-room; that one +morning early he was roused by a frightful shriek and saw Uracao rushing +from the Colonel's state-room. He sprang up, chased him, and caught him +just as he was about to leap overboard. His creese covered with blood +was in his hand. The Colonel, when they went to look at him, had his +throat cut from ear to ear. Clark swore that he was steering the vessel +and saw Potts catch Uracao, and helped to hold him. The Captain, Cigole, +swore that he was waked by the noise, and rushed out in time to see +this. Clark had gone as mate of the vessel. Of the Lascars, two had been +down below, but one was on deck and swore to have seen the same. On this +testimony Uracao was condemned and executed." + +"How did they happen to leave the brig?" + +"They said that a great storm came up about three days' sail from +Manilla, the vessel sprang a leak, and they had to take to the boat. +Their testimony was very clear indeed, and there were no contradictions; +but in spite of all this it was felt to be a very mysterious case, and +even the exhibition of the Malay creese, carefully covered with the +stains of blood, did not altogether dispel this feeling." + +"Have you got the papers yet, or are there any in Sydney that contain an +account of this affair?" + +"I have kept them all. You may read the whole case if you care about +it." + +"I should like to, very much," said Brandon, with great calmness. + +"When I heard of this before the mail was opened I felt an agony of fear +lest my miserable boy might be implicated in some way. To my immense +relief his name did not occur at all." + +"You got a letter from your wife?" said Brandon, interrogatively. + +"Yes," said the old man, with a sigh. "The last that I ever received +from her. Here it is." And, saying this, he opened his pocket-book and +took out a letter, worn and faded, and blackened by frequent readings. + +Brandon took it respectfully, and read the following: + +"CALCUTTA, August 15, 1828. + +"MY DEAREST HENRY,--By the papers that I send you, you will see what has +occurred. Our dear Edgar is well, indeed better than usual, and I would +feel much cheered if it were not for the sad fate of the poor Colonel. +This is the last letter that you will ever receive from me. I am going +to leave this country never to return, and do not yet know where I will +go. Wherever I go I will be with my darling Edgar. Do not worry about me +or about him. It will be better for you to try and forget all about us, +since we are from this time the same as dead to you. Good-by forever, my +dearest husband; it shall be my daily prayer that God may bless you. + +"Your affectionate wife, MARY." + +Brandon read this in silence, and handed it back. + +"A strange letter," said Compton mournfully. "At first it gave a bitter +pang to think of my Mary thus giving me up forever, so coldly, and for +no reason: but afterward I began to understand why she wrote this. + +"My belief is, that these villains kept my son in their clutches for +some good reason, and that they had some equally good reason for keeping +her. There's some mystery about it which I can't fathom. Perhaps she +knew too much about the Colonel's affairs to be allowed to go free. They +might have detained her by working upon her love for her son, or simply +by terrifying her. She was always a timid soul, poor Mary. That letter +is not her composition: there is not a word there that sounds like her, +and they no doubt told her what to write, or wrote out something, and +made her copy it. + +"And now," said Compton, after another long pause, "I have got to the +end of my story. I know nothing more about them. I have lived here ever +since, at first despairing, but of late more resigned to my lot. Yet +still if I have one desire in life it is to get some trace of these dear +ones whom I still love as tenderly as ever. You, my dear boy, with your +ability may conjecture some way. Besides, you will perhaps be traveling +more or less, and may be able to hear of their fate. This is the +condition that I make. I implore you by your pity for a heart-broken +father to do as I say and help me. Half! why, I would give all that I +have if I could get them back again." + +Brandon shuddered perceptibly at the words "heart-broken father;" but he +quickly recovered himself. He took Compton's hand and pressed it warmly. + +"Dear friend, I will make no objection to any thing, and I promise you +that all my best efforts shall he directed toward finding them out." + +"Tell them to come to me, that I am rich, and can make them happy." + +"I'll make them go to you if they are alive," said Brandon. + +"God bless you!" ejaculated the old man, fervently. + +Brandon spent the greater part of that day in making business +arrangements, and in reading the papers which Compton had preserved +containing an account of the Despard murder. + +It was late at night before he returned to his hotel. As he went into +the hall he saw a stranger sitting there in a lounging attitude reading +the Sydney _News_. + +He was a thin, small-sized man, with a foreign air, and quick, restless +manner. His features were small, a heavy beard and mustache covered +his face, his brow was low, and his eyes black and twinkling. A sharp, +furtive glance which he gave at Brandon attracted the attention of the +latter, for there was something in the glance that meant more than idle +curiosity. + +Even in the midst of his cares Brandon's curiosity was excited. He +walked with assumed indifference up to the desk as though looking for +the key of his room. Glancing at the hotel book his eye ranged down the +column of names till it rested on the last one. + +"_Pietro Cigole_." --Cigole! the name brought singular associations. +Had this man still any connection with Potts? The words of his father's +letter rushed into his mind--"His arm may reach even to the antipodes +to strike you. Be on your guard. Watch every one. He has some dark plan +against you." + +With these thoughts in his mind Brandon went up to his room. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"A MAN OVERBOARD!" + +In so small a town as Sydney then was Brandon could hope to learn all +that could be learned about Cigole. By casual inquiries he learned that +the Italian had come out in the _Rival_, and had given out that he +was agent for a London house in the wool business. He had bought up a +considerable quantity which he was preparing to ship. + +Brandon could not help feeling that there was some ruse about this. Yet +he thought, on the other hand, why should he flaunt his name so boldly +before the world? If he is in reality following me why should he not +drop his name? But then, again, why should he? Perhaps he thinks that +I can not possibly know any thing about his name. Why should I? I was a +child when Despard was murdered. It may be merely a similarity of names. + +Brandon from time to time had opportunities of hearing more about +Cigole, yet always the man seemed absorbed in business. + +He wondered to himself whether he had better confide his suspicions to +Mr. Compton or not. Yet why should he? The old man would become excited, +and feel all sorts of wild hopes about discovering his wife and son. +Could it be possible that the Italian after so many years could now +afford any clew whatever? Certainly it was not very probable. + +On the whole Brandon thought that this man, whoever he was or whatever +his purpose might be, would be encountered best by himself singly. If +Mr. Compton took part he would at once awaken Cigole's fears by his +clumsiness. + +Brandon felt quite certain that Mr. Compton would not know any thing +about Cigole's presence in Sydney unless he himself told him. For the +old man was so filled with trouble at the loss of his partner that he +could think of nothing else, and all his thoughts were taken up with +closing up the concern so as to send forward remittances of money to +London as soon as possible. Mr. Compton had arranged for him to draw +L2000 on his arrival at London, and three months afterward L3000-L10,000 +would be remitted during the following year. + +Brandon had come to the conclusion to tell Mr. Compton about Cigole +before he left, so that if the man remained in the country he might +be bribed or otherwise induced to tell what he knew; yet thinking it +possible that Cigole had designed to return in the same ship with +him, he waited to see how things would turn out. As he could not help +associating Cigole in his mind with Potts, so he thought that whichever +way he turned this man would try to follow him. His anticipations proved +correct. He had taken passage in the ship _Java_, and two days before +the vessel left he learned that Cigole had taken his passage in her +also, having put on board a considerable quantity of wool. On the whole +Brandon felt gratified to hear this, for the close association of a long +sea voyage would give him opportunities to test this man, and probe him +to the bottom. The thought of danger arising to himself did not enter +his mind. He believed that Cigole meant mischief, but had too much +confidence in his own powers to fear it. + +On the 5th of August the ship _Java_ was ready, and Mr. Compton stood on +the quarterdeck to bid good-by to Brandon. + +"God bless you, dear boy! You will find the money coming promptly, and +Smithers & Co.'s house is one of the strongest in London. I have brought +you a parting gift," said he, in a low voice. He drew from his pocket +a pistol, which in those days was less known than now--indeed, this was +the first of its kind which had reached Australia, and Mr. Compton had +paid a fabulous price for it. "Here," said he, "take this to remember me +by. They call it a revolver. Here is a box of patent cartridges that go +with it. It is from me to you. And mind," he continued, while there +came over his face a vengeful look which Brandon had never seen there +before--"mind, if ever you see John Potts, give him one of those +patent cartridges, and tell him it is the last gift of a broken-hearted +father." + +Brandon's face turned ghastly, and his lips seemed to freeze into a +smile of deadly meaning. + +"God bless you." cried Compton, "I see by your face that you will do it. +Good-by." + +He wrung Brandon's hand hard and left the ship. + +About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking +a cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not +appear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plunged +his hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively air. + +"Aha, Capitano," said he, in a foreign accent, "I have brought my wool +off at last." + +Brandon paced the deck silently yet watchfully. + +The good ship _Java_ went out with a fine breeze, which continued for +some days, until at last nothing could be seen but the wide ocean. In +those few days Brandon had settled himself comfortably on board, and had +learned pretty well the kind of life which he would have to lead for +the next six months or so. The captain was a quiet, amiable sort of a +person, without much force of character; the mate was more energetic +and somewhat passionate; the crew consisted of the average order of men. +There was no chance, certainly, for one of those conspiracies such as +Mr. Compton had hinted at as having taken place on the _Vishnu_; for in +his account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had been +made a scape-goat for the sins of the others. + +Brandon was soon on the best of terms with the officers of the ship. As +to Cigole it was different. The fact of their being the only passengers +on board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw them +together; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremest +limits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that his +purposes would be best served by close association with this man; he +hoped that in the course of such association he might draw something +from Cigole. But Cigole baffled him constantly. He was as polite and +courteous as all Italians are; he had an abundance of remarks all ready +about the state of the weather, the prospects of the voyage, or the +health of the seamen; but beyond these topics it was difficult to induce +him to go. Brandon stifled the resentment which he felt toward this man, +in his efforts to break down the barriers of formality which he kept up, +and sought to draw him out on the subject of the wool trade. Yet here he +was baffled. Cigole always took up the air of a man who was speaking to +a rival in business, and pretended to be very cautious and guarded in +his remarks about wool, as though he feared that Brandon would interfere +with his prospects. This sort of thing was kept up with such great +delicacy of management on Cigole's part that Brandon himself would have +been completely deceived, and would have come to consider him as nothing +more than a speculator in wool, had it not been for a certain deep +instinct within him, which made him regard this man as one who was +actuated by something far deeper than mere regards for a successful +speculation. + +Cigole managed to baffle the most dextrous efforts and the most delicate +contrivances of Brandon. He would acknowledge that he was an Italian, +and had been in all parts of Italy, but carefully refrained from telling +where he was born. He asserted that this was the first time that he had +been in the Eastern seas. He remarked once, casually, that Cigole was a +very common name among Italians. He said that he had no acquaintances at +all in England, and was only going there now because he heard that there +was a good market for wool. At another time he spoke as though much of +his life had been passed in Marseilles, and hinted that he was a partner +of a commercial house there. + +Cigole never made any advances, and never even met half-way those +which Brandon made. He was never off his guard for one instant. Polite, +smiling, furtive, never looking Brandon fairly in the face, he usually +spoke with a profusion of bows, gestures, and commonplaces, adopting, in +fact, that part which is always at once both the easiest and the safest +to play--the non-committal, pure and perfect. + +It was cunning, but low cunning after all, and Brandon perceived that, +for one who had some purpose to accomplish, with but a common soul +to sustain him, this was the most ordinary way to do it. A villain of +profounder cunning or of larger spirit would have pursued a different +path. He would have conversed freely and with apparent unreserve; he +would have yielded to all friendly advances, and made them himself; he +would have shown the highest art by concealing art, in accordance with +the hackneyed proverb, "Ars est celare artem." + +Brandon despised him as an ordinary villain, and hardly thought it worth +his while to take any particular notice of him, except to watch him in a +general way. But Cigole, on the contrary, was very different. His eyes, +which never met those of Brandon fairly, were constantly watching him. +When moving about the quarter-deck or when sitting in the cabin +he usually had the air of a man who was pretending to be intent on +something else, but in reality watching Brandon's acts or listening to +his words. To any other man the knowledge of this would have been in +the highest degree irksome. But to Brandon it was gratifying, since it +confirmed his suspicions. He saw this man, whose constant efforts were +directed toward not committing himself by word, doing that very thing by +his attitude, his gesture, and the furtive glance of his eye. Brandon, +too, had his part, but it was infinitely greater than that of Cigole, +and the purpose that now animated his life was unintelligible to this +man who watched him. But Cigole's whole soul was apparent to Brandon; +and by his small arts, his low cunning, his sly observation, and many +other peculiarities, he exhibited that which is seen in its perfection +in the ordinary spy of despotic countries, such as used to abound most +in Rome and Naples in the good old days. + +For the common spy of Europe may deceive the English or American +traveler; but the Frenchman, the German, the Spaniard, or the Italian, +always recognizes him. + +So Brandon's superior penetration discovered the true character of +Cigole. + +He believed that this man was the same Cigole who had figured in the +affair of the _Vishnu_; that he had been sent out by Potts to do some +injury to himself, and that he was capable of any crime. Yet he could +not see how he could do any thing. He certainly could not incite the +simple-minded captain and the honest mate to conspiracy. He was too +great a coward to attempt any violence. So Brandon concluded that he had +simply come to watch him so as to learn his character, and carry back to +Potts all the knowledge that he might gain. + +This was his conclusion after a close association of one month with +Cigole. Yet he made up his mind not to lose sight of this man. To him he +appeared only an agent in villainy, and therefore unworthy of vengeance; +yet he might be made use of as an aid in that vengeance. He therefore +wished to have a clew by which he might afterward find him. + +"You and I," said he one day, in conversation, "are both in the same +trade. If I ever get to England I may wish some time to see you. Where +can I find you?" + +Cigole looked in twenty different directions, and hesitated for some +time. + +"Well," said he at last, "I do not think that you will wish to see me--" +and he hesitated; "but," he resumed, with an evil smile, "if you +should by any possibility wish to do so, you can find out where I am by +inquiring of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street, London." + +"Perhaps I may not wish to," said Brandon, coolly, "and perhaps I may. +At any rate, if I do, I will remember to inquire of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 +Red Lion Street, London." + +He spoke with deep emphasis on the address. Cigole looked uncomfortable, +as though he had at last made the mistake which he dreaded, and had +committed himself. + +So the time passed. + +After the first few days the weather had become quite stormy. +Strong head-winds, accompanied often by very heavy rains, had to +be encountered. In spite of this the ship had a very good passage +northward, and met with no particular obstacle until her course was +turned toward the Indian Ocean. Then all the winds were dead against +her, and for weeks a succession of long tacks far to the north and to +the south brought her but a short distance onward. Every day made the +wind more violent and the storm worse. And now the season of the equinox +was approaching, when the monsoons change, and all the winds that sweep +over these seas alter their courses. For weeks before and after this +season the winds are all unsettled, and it seems as if the elements were +let loose. From the first week in September this became manifest, and +every day brought them face to face with sterner difficulties. Twice +before the captain had been to Australia; and for years he had been in +the China trade; so that he knew these seas well; but he said that he +had never known the equinoctial storms begin so early, and rage with +such violence. + +Opposed by such difficulties as these the ship made but a slow +passage--the best routes had not yet been discovered--and it was the +middle of September before they entered the Indian Ocean. The weather +then became suddenly calm, and they drifted along beyond the latitude +of the western extremity of Java, about a hundred miles south of the +Straits of Sunda. Here they began to encounter the China fleet which +steers through this strait, for every day one or more sails were +visible. + +Here they were borne on helplessly by the ocean currents, which at this +place are numerous and distracted. The streams that flow through the +many isles of the Indian Archipelago, uniting with the greater southern +streams, here meet and blend, causing great difficulties to navigation, +and often baffling even the most experienced seaman. Yet it was not all +left to the currents, for frequently and suddenly the storms came up; +and the weather, ever changeful, kept the sailors constantly on the +alert. + +Yet between the storms the calms were frequent, and sometimes long +continued, though of such a sort as required watchfulness. For out of +the midst of dead calms the storm would suddenly rise in its might, and +all the care which experience could suggest was not always able to avert +disaster. + +"I don't like this weather, Mr. Brandon. It's the worst that we could +have, especially just here." + +"Why just here?" + +"Why, we're opposite the Straits of Sunda, the worst place about these +parts." + +"What for?" + +"Pirates. The Malays, you know. We're not over well prepared to meet +them, I'm afraid. If they come we'll have to fight them the best way we +can; and these calms are the worst thing for us, because the Malay proas +can get along in the lightest wind, or with oars, when we can't move at +all." + +"Are the Malays any worse than usual now?" asked Brandon. + +"Well, no worse than they've been for the last ten years. Zangorri is +the worst of them all." + +"Zangorri! I've heard of him." + +"I should think you had. Why, there never was a pirate in these seas +that did so much damage. No mortal knows the ships that devil has +captured and burned." + +"I hope you have arms for the seamen, at any rate." + +"Oh, we have one howitzer, and small-arms for the men, and we will have +to get along the best way we can with these; but the owners ought never +to send us here without a better equipment." + +"I suppose they think it would cost too much." + +"Yes; that's it. They think only about the profits, and trust to +luck for our safety. Well, I only hope we'll get safely out of this +place--that's all." + +And the captain walked off much more excited than usual. + +They drifted on through days of calm, which were succeeded by fierce +but short-lived storms, and then followed by calms. Their course lay +sometimes north, sometimes south, sometimes nowhere. Thus the time +passed, until at length, about the middle of September, they came in +sight of a long, low island of sand. + +"I've heard of that sand-bank before," said the captain, who showed some +surprise at seeing it; "but I didn't believe it was here. It's not down +in the charts. Here we are three hundred and fifty miles southwest of +the Straits of Sunda, and the chart makes this place all open water. +Well, seein's believin'; and after this I'll swear that there is such a +thing as Coffin Island." + +"Is that the name?" + +"That's the name an old sea-captain gave it, and tried to get the +Admiralty to put it on the charts, but they wouldn't. But this is it, +and no mistake." + +"Why did he call it Coffin Island?" + +"Well, he thought that rock looked like a coffin, and it's dangerous +enough when a fog comes to deserve that name." + +Brandon looked earnestly at the island which the captain mentioned, and +which they were slowly approaching. + +It lay toward the north, while the ship's course, if it had any in that +calm, was southwest. It was not more than six miles away, and appeared +to be about five miles long. At the nearest extremity a black rock arose +to a height of about fifty feet, which appeared to be about five hundred +feet long, and was of such a shape that the imagination might easily see +a resemblance to a coffin. At the farthest extremity of the island was +a low mound. The rest of the island was flat, low, and sandy, with no +trace of vegetation perceptible from the ship, except a line of dingy +green under the rock, which looked like grass. + +The ship drifted slowly on. + +Meanwhile the captain, in anticipation of a storm, had caused all the +sails to be taken in, and stood anxiously watching the sky toward the +southwest. + +There a dense mass of clouds lay piled along the horizon, gloomy, +lowering, menacing; frowning over the calm seas as though they would +soon destroy that calm, and fling forth all the fury of the winds. These +clouds seemed to have started up from the sea, so sudden had been their +appearance; and now, as they gathered themselves together, their forms +distended, and heightened, and reached forward vast arms into the sky, +striving to climb there, rolling upward voluminous cloud masses which +swiftly ascended toward the zenith. So quick was the progress of these +clouds that they did not seem to come from the banks below; but it was +rather as though all the air suddenly condensed its moisture and made it +visible in these dark masses. + +As yet there was no wind, and the water was as smooth as glass; but over +the wide surface, as far as the eye could reach, the long swell of the +ocean had changed into vast rolling undulations, to the motion of which +the ship yielded, slowly ascending and descending as the waters rose +and fell, while the yards creaked, and the rigging twanged to the strain +upon them. + +Every moment the sky grew darker, and as gloom gathered above so +it increased below, till all the sea spread out a smooth ebon mass. +Darkness settled down, and the sun's face was thus obscured, and a +preternatural gloom gathered upon the face of nature. Overhead vast +black clouds went sweeping past, covering all things, faster and faster, +till at last far down in the northern sky the heavens were all obscured. + +But amidst all this there was as yet not a breath of wind. Far above the +wind careered in a narrow current, which did not touch the surface of +the sea but only bore onward the clouds. The agitation of the sky above +contrasted with the stillness below made the latter not consoling but +rather fearful, for this could be none other than that treacherous +stillness which precedes the sudden outburst of the hurricane. + +For that sudden outburst all were now looking, expecting it every +moment. On the side of the ship where the wind was expected the captain +was standing, looking anxiously at the black clouds on the horizon, and +all the crew were gazing there in sympathy with him. From that +quarter the wind would burst, and it was for this assault that all the +preparations had been made. + +[Illustration: "HE PUSHED HIM HEADLONG OVER THE RAIL AND HELPLESSLY INTO +THE SEA."] + +For some time Brandon had watched the collecting clouds, but at +length he turned away, and seemed to find a supreme fascination in the +sand-bank. He stood at the stern of the ship, looking fixedly toward the +rock, his arms folded, and his thoughts all absorbed in that one thing. +A low railing ran round the quarter-deck. The helmsman stood in a +sheltered place which rose only two feet above the deck. The captain +stood by the companion-way, looking south at the storm; the mate was +near the capstan, and all were intent and absorbed in their expectation +of a sudden squall. + +Close by the rudder-post stood Cigole, looking with all the rest at the +gathering storm. His face was only half turned, and as usual he watched +this with only a furtive glance, for at times his stealthy eyes turned +toward Brandon; and he alone of all on board did not seem to be absorbed +by some overmastering thought. + +Suddenly a faint, fluttering ripple appeared to the southward; it came +quickly: it seemed to flash over the waters; with the speed of the +wind it moved on, till a quick, fresh blast struck the ship and sighed +through the rigging. Then a faint breathing of wind succeeded; but +far away there rose a low moan like that which arises from some vast +cataract at a great distance, whose roar, subdued by distance, sounds +faintly, yet warningly, to the ear. + +At this first touch of the tempest, and the menacing voice of its +approach, not a word was spoken, but all stood mute. Brandon alone +appeared not to have noticed it. He still stood with folded arms and +absorbed air, gazing at the island. + +The roar of the waters in the distance grew louder, and in the direction +from which it came the dark water was all white with foam, and the +boiling flood advanced nearer in myriad-numbered waves, which seemed now +like an army rushing to the charge, tossing on high its crested heads +and its countless foam-plumes, and threatening to bear down all before +it. + +At last the tornado struck. + +At the fierce blast of the storm the ship rolled far over, the masts +creaked and groaned, the waves rushed up and dashed against the side. + +At that instant Cigole darted quickly toward Brandon, and the moment +that the vessel yielded to the blow of the storm he fell violently +against him. Before Brandon had noticed the storm or had time to steady +himself he had pushed him headlong over the rail and helplessly into the +sea-- + + "--liquidae projecit in undas + Praecipitem." + +Cigole clung to the rail, and instantly shrieked out: + +"Man overboard!" + +The startling cry rang through the ship. The captain turned round with a +face of agony. + +"Man overboard!" shouted Cigole again. "Help! It's Brandon!" + +"Brandon!" cried the captain. "He's lost! O God!" + +He took up a hen-coop from its fastenings and flung it into the sea, and +a couple of pails after it. + +He then looked aloft and to the south with eyes of despair. He could +do nothing. For now the storm was upon them, and the ship was plunging +furiously through the waters with the speed of a race-horse at the touch +of the gale. On the lee-side lay the sand-bank, now only three miles +away, whose unknown shallows made their present position perilous in the +extreme. The ship could not turn to try and save the lost passenger; it +was only by keeping straight on that there was any hope of avoiding that +lee-shore. + +All on board shared the captain's despair, for all saw that nothing +could be done. The ship was at the mercy of the hurricane. To turn was +impossible. If they could save their own lives now it would be as much +as they could do. + +Away went the ship--away, farther, and farther, every moment leaving at +a greater distance the lost man who struggled in the waters. + +At last they had passed the danger, the island was left behind, and the +wide sea lay all around. + +But by this time the storm was at its height; the ship could not +maintain its proper course, but, yielding to the gale, fled to the +northwest far out of its right direction. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +SINKING IN DEEP WATERS. + +Brandon, overwhelmed by the rush of waters, half suffocated, and +struggling in the rush of the waves, shrieked out a few despairing cries +for help, and sought to keep his head above water as best he could. +But his cries were borne off by the fierce winds, and the ship as it +careered madly before the blast was soon out of hearing. + +He was a first-rate swimmer, but in a sea like this it needed all +his strength and all his skill to save himself from impending death. +Encumbered by his clothes it was still more difficult, yet so fierce +was the rush of wind and wave that he dared not stop for a moment in his +struggles in order to divest himself of his clothing. + +At first, by a mere blind instinct, he tried to swim after the ship, +as though by any possibility he could ever reach her again, but the +hurricane was against him, and he was forced sideways far out of the +course which he was trying to take. At last the full possession of his +senses was restored, and following the ship no longer, he turned toward +the direction where that sand island lay which had been the cause of his +disaster. At first it was hidden from view by the swell of waves +that rose in front, but soon rising upon the crest of one of these he +perceived far away the dark form of the coffin-shaped rock. Here then +before him lay the island, and toward this both wind and wave impelled +him. + +But the rock was far to the right, and it might be that the island did +not extend far enough to meet him as he neared it. It was about five +miles in length, but in his efforts he might not be able to reach even +the western extremity. Still there was nothing else to do but to try. +Resolutely, therefore, though half despairingly, he put forth his best +strength, and struggled manfully to win the shore. + +That lone and barren sand-bank, after all, offered but a feeble chance +for life. Even if he did reach it, which was doubtful, what could he +do? Starvation instead of drowning would be his fate. More than once it +occurred to him that it would be better then and there to give up all +efforts and let himself go. But then there came the thought of those +dear ones who waited for him in England, the thought of the villain who +had thrown him from the ship, and the greater villain who had sent him +out on his murderous errand. He could not bear the idea that they should +triumph over him so easily and so quickly. His vengeance should not be +taken from him; it had been baffled, but it still nerved his arm. + +A half hour's struggle, which seemed like many hours, had brought him +much nearer to the island, but his strength was almost exhausted. His +clothes, caught in the rush of the waves, and clinging to him, confined +the free action of his limbs, and lent an additional weight. Another +half hour's exertion might possibly bring him to the shore, but that +exertion hardly seemed possible. It was but with difficulty now that +he could strike out. Often the rush of the waves from behind would +overwhelm him, and it was only by convulsive efforts that he was able to +surmount the raging billows and regain his breath. + +Efforts like these, however, were too exhaustive to be long continued. +Nature failed, and already a wild despair came over him. For a quarter +of an hour longer he had continued his exertions; and now the island was +so near that a quarter of an hour more might bring him to it. But +even that exertion of strength was now no longer possible. Faintly and +feebly, and with failing limbs and fiercely-throbbing heart, he toiled +on, until at last any further effort seemed impossible. Before him was +the mound which he had noticed from the ship. He was at the western +extremity of the island. He saw that he was being carried in such a +direction that even if he did struggle on he might be borne helplessly +past the island and out into the open sea. Already he could look past +the island, and see the wide expanse of white foaming waves which +threatened to engulf him. The sight weakened what little strength was +left, and made his efforts even feebler. + +Despairingly he looked around, not knowing what he sought, but seeking +still for something, he knew not what. In that last look of despair his +eyes caught sight of something which at once gave him renewed hope. +It was not far away. Borne along by the waves it was but a few yards +distant, and a little behind him. It was the hen-coop which the Captain +of the _Java_ had thrown overboard so as to give Brandon a chance for +life. That last chance was now thrown in his way, for the hen-coop had +followed the same course with himself, and had been swept along not very +far from him. + +Brandon was nerved to new efforts by the sight of this. He turned and +exerted the last remnants of his strength in order to reach this means +of safety. It was near enough to be accessible. A few vigorous strokes, +a few struggles with the waves, and his hands clutched the bars with the +grasp of a drowning man. + +It was a large hen-coop, capable of keeping several men afloat. Brandon +clung to this and at last had rest. Every minute of respite from such +struggles as he had carried on restored his strength to a greater +degree. He could now keep his head high out of the water and avoid the +engulfing fury of the waves behind. Now at last he could take a better +survey of the prospect before him, and see more plainly whither he was +going. + +The sand-bank lay before him; the mount at the western extremity was in +front of him, not very far away. The rock which lay at the eastern +end was now at a great distance, for he had been swept by the current +abreast of the island, and was even now in danger of being carried past +it. Still there was hope, for wind and wave were blowing directly toward +the island, and there was a chance of his being carried full upon its +shore. Yet the chance was a slender one, for the set of the tide carried +him beyond the line of the western extremity. + +Every minute brought him nearer, and soon his fate would be decided. +Nearer and nearer he came, still clinging to the hen-coop, and making +no efforts whatever, but reserving and collecting together all his +strength, so as to put it forth at the final hour of need. + +But as he came nearer the island appeared to move more and more out of +the line of his approach. Under these circumstances his only chance was +to float as near as possible, and then make a last effort to reach the +land. + +Nearer and nearer he came. At last he was close by it, but the extreme +point of the island lay to the right more than twenty yards. This was +the crisis of his fate, for now if he floated on any longer he would be +carried farther away. + +The shore was here low but steep, the waters appeared to be deep, and a +heavy surf dashed upon the island, and threw up its spray far over +the mound. He was so near that he could distinguish the pebbles on the +beach, and could see beyond the mound a long, flat surface with thin +grass growing. + +Beyond this point was another a hundred yards away, but farther out of +his reach, and affording no hope whatever. Between the two points there +was an inlet into the island showing a little cove; but the surf just +here became wilder, and long rollers careered one past another over +the intervening space. It was a hopeless prospect. Yet it was his last +chance. + +Brandon made up his mind. He let go the hen-coop, and summoning up all +his strength he struck out for the shore. But this time the wind and sea +were against him, bearing him past the point, and the waves dashed over +him more quickly and furiously than before. He was swept past the +point before he had made half a dozen strokes; he was borne on still +struggling; and now on his left lay the rollers which he had seen. In +spite of all his efforts he was farther away from the island than when +he had left the hen-coop. Yet all hope and all life depended on the +issue of this last effort. The fifteen or twenty minutes of rest and of +breathing-space which he had gained had been of immense advantage, and +he struggled with all the force which could be inspired by the nearness +of safety. Yet, after all, human efforts can not withstand the fury of +the elements, and here against this strong sea the strongest swimmer +could not hope to contend successfully. + + "Never I ween was swimmer + In such an evil case." + +He swam toward the shore, but the wind striking him from one side, and +urging on the sea, drove him sideways. Some progress was made, but +the force of the waters was fearful, and for every foot that he moved +forward he was carried six feet to leeward. He himself saw this, and +calculating his chances he perceived with despair that he was already +beyond the first point, and that at the present rate there was no +possibility of gaining the farther point. + +Already the waves leaped exultingly about him, dashing over him now +more wildly, since he was exposed more than before to their full sweep. +Already the rollers lay close beside him on his left. Then it seemed as +though he would be engulfed. Turning his head backward with a last +faint thought of trying to regain the hen-coop, so as to prolong life +somewhat, he saw it far away out of his reach. Then all hope left him. + +He was now at the outermost line of rollers. At the moment that he +turned his head a huge wave raised him up and bore him forward. He +struggled still, even in that time of despair, and fought with his +enemies. They bore him onward, however, none the less helplessly, and +descending carried him with them. + +But now at last, as he descended with that wave, hope came back, and all +his despair vanished. + +For as the wave flung him downward his feet touched bottom, and he stood +for a moment erect, on solid, hard sand, in water that scarcely reached +above his knees. It was for a moment only that he stood, however, for +the sweep of the water bore him down, and he fell forward. Before he +could regain himself another wave came and hurled him farther forward. + +By a violent effort he staggered to his feet. In an instant he +comprehended his position. At this western end the island descended +gently into the water, and the shoal which it formed extended for miles +away. It was this shoal that caused the long rollers that came over them +so vehemently, and in such marked contrast with the more abrupt waves of +the sea behind. + +In an instant he had comprehended this, and had taken his course of +action. + +Now he had foothold. Now the ground beneath lent its aid to his +endeavor; he was no longer altogether at the mercy of the water. He +bounded forward toward the shore in such a direction that he could +approach it without opposing himself entirely to the waves. The point +that stretched out was now within his reach. The waves rolled past it, +but by moving in an oblique direction he could gain it. + +[Illustration: "HE STAGGERED UP A FEW PACES UPON THE SANDY DECLIVITY."] + +Again and again the high rollers came forward, hurling him up as they +caught him in their embrace, and then casting him down again. As he was +caught up from the bottom he sustained himself on the moving mass, and +supported himself on the crest of the wave, but as soon as his feet +touched bottom again he sprang forward toward the point which now +became every minute more accessible. Wave after wave came, each was more +furious, each more ravenous than the preceding, as though hounding one +another on to make sure of their prey. But now that the hope of life +was strong, and safety had grown almost assured, the deathlike weakness +which but shortly before had assailed him gave way to new-born strength +and unconquerable resolve. + +At length he reached a place where the rollers were of less dimensions. +His progress became more rapid, until at length the water became +exceedingly shallow, being not more than a foot in depth. Here the first +point, where the mound was, protected it from the wind and sea. This was +the cove which he had noticed. The water was all white with foam, but +offered scarcely any resistance to him. He had but to wade onward to the +shore. + +That shore was at last attained. He staggered up a few paces upon the +sandy declivity, and then fell down exhausted upon the ground. + +He could not move. It was late; night came on, but he lay where he had +fallen, until at last he fell into a sound sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND. + +When Brandon awaked on the following morning the sun was already high in +the sky. He rose at once and walked slowly up, with stiffened limbs, +to a higher spot. His clothes already were partly dry, but they were +uncomfortable and impeded his motion. He took off nearly every thing, +and laid them out on the sand. Then he examined his pistol and the box +containing cartridges. This box held some oil also, with the help of +which the pistol was soon in good order. As the cartridges were encased +in copper they were uninjured. He then examined a silver case which +was suspended round his neck. It was cylindrical in shape, and the +top unscrewed. On opening this he took out his father's letter and the +inclosure, both of which were uninjured. He then rolled them up in a +small compass and restored them to their place. + +He now began to look about him. The storm had ceased, the waves had +subsided, a slight breeze was blowing from the sea which just ruffled +the water and tempered the heat. The island on which he had been cast +was low, flat, and covered with a coarse grass which grew out of the +sand. But the sand itself was in many places thrown up into ridges, and +appeared as though it was constantly shifting and changing. The mound +was not far away, and at the eastern end of the island he could see the +black outline of the rock which he had noticed from the ship. The length +he had before heard to be about five miles; the width appeared about +one mile, and in its whole aspect it seemed nothing better than the +abomination of desolation. + +At the end where he was the island terminated in two points, between +which there was the cove where he had found refuge. One of these points +was distinguished by the mound already mentioned, which from where he +stood appeared of an irregular oblong shape. The other point was low, +and descended gently into the water. The island itself appeared to be +merely the emergence of some sand-bank which, perhaps, had been formed +by currents and eddies; for here the currents of the Strait of Sunda +encounter those from the Southern and Indian oceans, and this bank lay +probably near their point of union. + +A short survey showed him this. It showed him also that there was but +little if any hope of sustaining life, and that he had escaped drowning +only perhaps to perish by the more lingering agonies of starvation. + +Already hunger and thirst had begun to be felt, and how to satisfy these +wants he knew not. Still he would not despair. Perhaps the _Java_ might +return in search of him, and his confinement would only last for a day +or so. + +He understood the act of Cigole in a way that was satisfactory to +himself. He had thrown him overboard, but had made it appear like an +accident. As he fell he had heard the shout "Man overboard!" and was now +able to account for it in this way. So a faint hope remained that the +captain of the _Java_ would not give him up. + +Still subsistence of some kind was necessary, and there was nothing +to be done but to explore the sandy tract before him. Setting forth he +walked toward the rock along the sea-shore. On one side toward the +north the shore was shallow and sloped gently into the water; but on +the southern side it descended more abruptly. The tide was out. A steep +beach appeared here covered with stones to which myriads of shell-fish +were attached. The sight of these suggested the idea to him that on the +opposite side there might be clams in the sand. He walked over there in +search of them. Here the slope was so gradual that extensive flats were +left uncovered by the receding tide. + +When a boy he had been sometimes accustomed to wander on sand flats near +his home, and dig up these clams in sport. Now his boyish experience +became useful. Myriads of little holes dotted the sand, which he knew to +be the indications of these molluscs, and he at once began to scoop in +the sand with his hands. In a short time he had found enough to satisfy +his hunger, and what was better, he saw all around an unlimited supply +of such food. + +Yet food was not enough. Drink was equally necessary. The salt of these +shell-fish aggravated the thirst that he had already begun to feel, and +now a fear came over him that there might be no water. The search seemed +a hopeless one; but he determined to seek for it nevertheless, and the +only place that seemed to promise success was the rock at the eastern +end. Toward this he now once more directed his steps. + +The island was all of sand except the rocks on the south beach and the +cliff at the eastern end. Coarse grass grew very extensively over the +surface, but the sand was fine and loose, and in many places thrown +up into heaps of many different shapes. The grass grew in tufts or in +spires and blades, thinly scattered, and nowhere forming a sod. The soil +was difficult to walk over, and Brandon sought the beach, where the damp +sand afforded a firmer foothold. In about an hour and a half he reached +the rock. + +It was between five hundred and six hundred feet in length, and about +fifty in height. There was no resemblance to a coffin now as Brandon +approached it, for that likeness was only discernible at a distance. Its +sides were steep and precipitous. It was one black solid mass, without +any outlying crags, or any fragments near it. Its upper surface appeared +to be level, and in various places it was very easy to ascend. Up one of +these places Brandon climbed, and soon stood on the top. + +Near him the summit was somewhat rounded; at the farther end it was +flat and irregular; but between the two ends it sank into a deep hollow, +where he saw that which at once excited a tumult of hope and fear. It +was a pool of water at least fifty feet in diameter, and deep too, since +the sides of the rock went down steeply. But was it fresh or salt? Was +it the accumulation from the showers of the rainy season of the tropics, +or was it but the result of the past night's storm, which had hurled +wave after wave here till the hollow was filled? + +With hasty footsteps he rushed toward the margin of the pool, and +bent down to taste. For a moment or so, by a very natural feeling, +he hesitated, then, throwing off the fever of suspense, he bent down, +kneeling on the margin, till his lips touched the water. + +It was fresh! Yes, it was from the heavens above, and not from the sea +below. It was the fresh rains from the sky that had filled this deep +pool, and not the spray from the sea. Again and again he quaffed the +refreshing liquid. Not a trace of the salt-water could be detected. It +was a natural cistern which thus lay before him, formed as though for +the reception of the rain. For the present, at least, he was safe. + +He had food and drink. As long as the rainy season lasted, and for +some time after, life was secure. Life becomes doubly sweet after being +purchased by such efforts as those which Brandon had put forth, and the +thought that for the present, at least, he was safe did not fail to fill +him with the most buoyant hope. To him, indeed, it seemed just then as +if nothing more could be desired. He had food and drink in abundance. In +that climate shelter was scarcely needed. What more could he wish? + +The first day was passed in exploring the rock to see if there was any +place which he might select for his abode. There were several fissures +in the rock at the eastern end, and one of these he selected. He then +went back for his clothes, and brought them to this place. So the first +day went. + +All the time his eyes wandered round the horizon to see if a sail might +be in sight. After two or three days, in which nothing appeared, he +ceased his constant watch, though still from time to time, by a natural +impulse, he continued to look. After all he thought that rescue might +come. He was somewhat out of the track of the China ships, but still not +very much so. An adverse wind might bring a ship close by. The hope of +this sustained him. + +But day succeeded to day and week to week with no appearance of any +thing whatever on the wide ocean. + +During these long days he passed the greater part of his time either +under the shelter of the rock, where he could best avoid the hot sun, or +when the sea-breeze blew on its summit. The frightful solitude offered +to him absolutely nothing which could distract his thoughts, or prevent +him from brooding upon the hopelessness of his situation. + +Brooding thus, it became his chief occupation to read over and over +his father's letter and the inclosure, and conjecture what might be his +course of action if he ever escaped from this place. His father's voice +seemed now to sound to him more imploringly than ever; and the winds at +night, as they moaned round the rock, seemed to modulate themselves, to +form their sounds to something like a wild cry, and wail forth, "Come +home!" Yet that home was now surely farther removed than ever, and the +winds seemed only to mock him. More sad and more despairing than Ulysses +on the Ogygian shore, he too wasted away with home-sickness. + +[Greek: kateibeto se glukus aion noston oduromeno.] + +Fate thus far had been against him, and the melancholy recollections of +his past life could yield nothing but despondency. Driven from home when +but a boy, he had become an exile, had wandered to the other side of the +world, and was just beginning to attain some prospect of a fortune when +this letter came. Rising up from the prostration of that blow, he had +struggled against fate, but only to encounter a more over-mastering +force, and this last stroke had been the worst of all. Could he rally +after this? Could he now hope to escape? + +Fate had been against him; but yet, perhaps, here, on this lonely +island, he might find a turning-point. Here he might find that turning +in the long lane which the proverb speaks of. "The day is darkest before +the morn," and perhaps he would yet have Fate on his side. + +But the sternest and most courageous spirit can hardly maintain its +fortitude in an utter and unmitigated solitude. St. Simeon Stylites +could do so, but he felt that on the top of that pillar there rested +the eyes of the heavenly hosts and of admiring mankind. It is when the +consciousness of utter solitude comes that the soul sinks. When the +prisoner thinks that he is forgotten by the outside world, then he loses +that strength which sustained him while he believed himself remembered. + +It was the lot of Brandon to have this sense of utter desolation: to +feel that in all the world there was not one human being that knew +of his fate; and to fear that the eye of Providence only saw him with +indifference. With bitterness he thought of the last words of his +father's letter: "If in that other world to which I am going the +disembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assist +you, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only to +communicate to your spirit what you ought to do." + +A melancholy smile passed over his face as he thought of what seemed to +him the utter futility of that promise. + +Now, as the weeks passed, his whole mode of life affected both mind and +body. Yet, if it be the highest state of man for the soul to live +by itself, as Socrates used to teach, and sever itself from bodily +association, Brandon surely had attained, without knowing it, a most +exalted stage of existence. Perhaps it was the period of purification +and preparation for future work. + +The weather varied incessantly, calms and storms alternating; sometimes +all the sea lying dull, listless, and glassy under the burning sky; at +other times both sea and sky convulsed with the war of elements. + +At last there came one storm so tremendous that it exceeded all that +Brandon had ever seen any where. + +The wind gathered itself up from the south-east, and for a whole day the +forces of the tempest collected themselves, till at last they burst in +fury upon the island. In sustained violence and in the frenzy of its +assault it far surpassed that first storm. Before sundown the storm +was at its height, and, though yet day, the clouds were so dense and so +black that it became like night. Night came on, and the storm, and roar, +and darkness increased steadily every hour. So intense was the darkness +that the hand, when held close by the face, could not be distinguished. +So restless was the force of the wind that Brandon, on looking out to +sea, had to cling to the rock to prevent himself from being blown away. +A dense rain of spray streamed through the air, and the surf, rolling +up, flung its crest all across the island. Brandon could hear beneath +him, amidst some of the pauses of the storm, the hissing and bubbling of +foaming waters, as though the whole island, submerged by the waves, was +slowly settling down into the depths of the ocean. + +Brandon's place of shelter was sufficiently elevated to be out of the +reach of the waves that might rush upon the land, and on the lee-side +of the rock, so that he was sufficiently protected. Sand, which he had +carried up, formed his bed. In this place, which was more like the lair +of a wild beast than the abode of a human being, he had to live. Many +wakeful nights he had passed there, but never had he known such a night +as this. + +There was a frenzy about this hurricane that would have been +inconceivable if he had not witnessed it. His senses, refined and +rendered acute by long vigils and slender diet, seemed to detect audible +words in the voice of the storm. Looking out through the gloom his +sight seemed to discern shapes flitting by like lightning, as though the +fabled spirits of the storm had gathered here. + +It needed all the robust courage of his strong nature to sustain himself +in the presence of the wild fancies that now came rushing and thronging +before his mind. The words of his father sounded in his ears; he thought +he heard them spoken from the air; he thought he saw an aged spectral +face, wan with suffering and grief, in front of his cave. He covered +his eyes with his hands, and sought to reason down his superstitious +feeling. In vain. Words rang in his ears, muffled words, as though +muttered in the storm, and his mind, which had brooded so long over his +father's letter, now gave shape to the noise of winds and waves. + +"--In the crisis of your fate I will be near." + +"I shall go mad!" cried Brandon, aloud, and he started to his feet. + +But the storm went on with its fury, and still his eyes saw shapes, and +his ears heard fantastic sounds. So the night passed until at last the +storm had exhausted itself. Then Brandon sank down and slept far on into +the day. + +When he awaked again the storm had subsided. The sea was still +boisterous, and a fresh breeze blew which he inhaled with pleasure. +After obtaining some shell-fish, and satisfying his appetite, he went to +the summit of the rock for water, and then stood looking out at sea. + +His eye swept the whole circuit of the horizon without seeing any thing, +until at length he turned to look in a westwardly direction where the +island spread out before him. Here an amazing sight met his eyes. + +The mound at the other end had become completely and marvelously +changed. On the previous day it had preserved its usual shape, but now +it was no longer smoothly rounded. On the contrary it was irregular, the +northern end being still a sort of hillock, but the middle and southern +end was flat on the surface and dark in color. From the distance +at which he stood it looked like a rock, around which the sand had +accumulated, but which had been uncovered by the violent storm of the +preceding night. + +At that distance it appeared like a rock, but there was something in its +shape and in its position which made it look like a ship which had been +cast ashore. The idea was a startling one, and he at once dismissed it +as absurd. But the more he looked the closer the resemblance grew +until at last, unable to endure this suspense, he hurried off in that +direction. + +During all the time that he had been on the island he had never +been close to the mound. He had remained for the most part in the +neighborhood of the rock, and had never thought that a barren sand +hillock was worthy of a visit. But now it appeared a very different +object in his eyes. + +He walked on over half the intervening distance, and now the resemblance +instead of fading out, as he anticipated, grew more close. It was still +too far to be seen very distinctly: but there, even from that distance, +he saw the unmistakable outline of a ship's hull. + +There was now scarcely any doubt about this. There it lay. Every step +only made it more visible. He walked more quickly onward, filled with +wonder, and marveling by what strange chance this vessel could have +reached its present position. + +There it lay. It could not by any possibility have been cast ashore on +the preceding night. The mightiest billows that ever rose from ocean +could never have lifted a ship so far upon the shore. To him it was +certain that it must have been there for a long time, and that the sand +had been heaped around it by successive storms. + +As he walked nearer he regarded more closely the formation of this +western end. He saw the low northern point, and then the cove where he +had escaped from the sea. He noticed that the southern point where the +mound was appeared to be a sort of peninsula, and the theory suggested +itself to him by which he could account for this wonder. This ship, he +saw, must have been wrecked at some time long before upon this island. +As the shore was shallow it had run aground and stuck fast in the sand. +But successive storms had continued to beat upon it until the moving +sands which the waters were constantly driving about had gathered all +around it higher and higher. At last, in the course of time, a vast +accumulation had gathered about this obstacle till a new bank had been +formed and joined to the island; and the winds had lent their aid, +heaping up the loose sand on high till all the ship was covered. But +last night's storm had to some extent undone the work, and now the wreck +was once more exposed. + +Brandon was happy in his conjecture and right in his theory. All who +know any thing about the construction and nature of sand islands such +as this are aware that the winds and waters work perpetual changes. The +best known example of this is the far-famed Sable Island, which lies off +the coast of Nova Scotia, in the direct track of vessels crossing the +Atlantic between England and the United States. Here there is repeated +on a far larger scale the work which Brandon saw on Coffin Island. Sable +Island is twenty miles long and about one in width--the crest of a vast +heap of sand which rises out of the ocean's bed. Here the wildest storms +in the world rage uncontrolled, and the keepers of the light-house have +but little shelter. Not long ago an enormous flag-staff was torn from +out its place and hurled away into the sea. In fierce storms the spray +drives all across, and it is impossible to venture out. But most of all, +Sable Island is famous for the melancholy wrecks that have taken place +there. Often vessels that have the bad fortune to run aground are broken +up, but sometimes the sand gathers about them and covers them up. There +are numerous mounds here which are known to conceal wrecked ships. Some +of these have been opened, and the wreck beneath has been brought to +view. Sometimes also after a severe gale these sandy mounds are torn +away and the buried vessels are exposed. + +[Illustration: "GREAT HEAVENS!" CRIED BRANDON, STARTING BACK--"THE +'VISHNU!'"] + +Far away in Australia Brandon had heard of Sable Island from different +sea captains who had been in the Atlantic trade. The stories which these +men had to tell were all largely tinged with the supernatural. One in +particular who had been wrecked there, and had taken refuge for the +night in a hut built by the British Government for wrecked sailors, told +some wild story about the apparition of a negro who waked him up at dead +of night and nearly killed him with horror. + +With all these thoughts in his mind Brandon approached the wreck and at +last stood close beside it. + +It had been long buried. The hull was about two-thirds uncovered. A vast +heap of sand still clung to the bow, but the stern stood out full in +view. Although it must have been there for a long time the planks were +still sound, for they seemed to have been preserved from decay by the +sand. All the calking, however, had become loose, and the seams gaped +widely. There were no masts, but the lower part of the shrouds still +remained, showing that the vessel was a brig. So deeply was it buried in +the sand, that Brandon, from where he stood, could look over the whole +deck, he himself being almost on a level with the deck. The masts +appeared to have been chopped away. The hatchways were gone. The hold +appeared to be filled with sand, but there may have been only a layer of +sand concealing something beneath. Part of the planking of the deck as +well as most of the taffrail on the other side had been carried away. +Astern there was a quarter-deck. There was no skylight, but only +dead-lights set on the deck. The door of the cabin still remained and +was shut tight. + +All these things Brandon took in at a glance. A pensive melancholy came +over him, and a feeling of pity for the inanimate ship as though she +were capable of feeling. By a natural curiosity he walked around to the +stern to see if he could read her name. + +The stern was buried deep in the sand. He had to kneel to read it. +On the side nearest him the letters were obliterated, but he saw some +remaining on the opposite side. He went over there and knelt down. There +were four letters still legible and part of a fifth. These were the +letters: + + VISHN + +"Great Heavens!" cried Brandon, starting back--"the _Vishnu!_" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN SHIP. + +After a moment of horror Brandon walked away for a short distance, and +then turning he looked fixedly at the wreck for a long time. + +Could this be indeed _the_ ship--_the Vishnu_? By what marvelous +coincidence had he thus fallen upon it? It was in 1828 that the _Vishnu_ +sailed from Calcutta for Manilla. Was it possible for this vessel to be +preserved so long? And if so, how did it get here? + +Yet why not? As to its preservation that was no matter in itself for +wonder. East Indian vessels are sometimes built of mahogany, or other +woods which last for immense periods. Any wood might endure for eighteen +years if covered up by sand. Besides, this vessel he recollected had +been laden with staves and box shooks, with other wooden materials which +would keep it afloat. It might have drifted about these seas till the +currents bore it here. After all it was not so wonderful that this +should be the _Vishnu_ of Colonel Despard. + +The true marvel was that he himself should have been cast ashore here on +the same place where this ship was. + +He stood for a long time not caring to enter. His strength had been +worn down by the privations of his island life; his nerves, usually like +steel, were becoming unstrung; his mind had fallen into a morbid state, +and was a prey to a thousand strange fancies. The closed doors of +the cabin stood there before him, and he began to imagine that some +frightful spectacle was concealed within. + +Perhaps he would find some traces of that tragedy of which he had heard. +Since the ship had come here, and he had been cast ashore to meet it, +there was nothing which he might not anticipate. + +A strange horror came over him as he looked at the cabin. But he was not +the man to yield to idle fancies. Taking a long breath he walked +across the island, and then back again. By that time he had completely +recovered, and the only feeling now remaining was one of intense +curiosity. + +This time he went up without hesitation, and climbed on board the +vessel. The sand was heaped up astern, the masts gone, and the hatchways +torn off, as has been said. The wind which had blown the sand away had +swept the decks as clean as though they had been holy-stoned. Not a rope +or a spar or any movable of any kind could be seen. + +He walked aft. He tried the cabin door; it was wedged fast as though +part of the front. Finding it immovable he stepped back and kicked at it +vigorously. A few sturdy kicks started the panel. It gradually yielded +and sank in. Then the other panel followed. He could now look in and +see that the sand lay inside to the depth of a foot. As yet, however, he +could not enter. There was nothing else to do except to kick at it +till it was all knocked away, and this after some patient labor was +accomplished. + +He entered. The cabin was about twelve feet square, lighted by +dead-lights in the deck above. On each side were two state-rooms +probably intended for the ship's officers. The doors were all open. The +sand had drifted in here and covered the floor and the berths. The floor +of the cabin was covered with sand to the depth of a foot. There was +no large opening through which it could enter: but it had probably +penetrated through the cracks of the doorway in a fine, impalpable dust, +and had covered every available surface within. + +In the centre of the cabin was a table, secured to the floor, as ships' +tables always are; and immediately over it hung the barometer which was +now all corroded and covered with mould and rust. A half dozen stools +were around, some lying on their sides, some upside down, and one +standing upright. The door by which he had entered was at one side, on +the other side was another, and between the two stood a sofa, the shape +of which was plainly discernible under the sand. Over this was a clock, +which had ticked its last tick. + +On some racks over the closet there were a few guns and swords, +intended, perhaps, for the defensive armament of the brig, but all in +the last stage of rust and of decay. Brandon took one or two down, but +they broke with their own weight. + +The sand seemed to have drifted more deeply into the state-rooms, for +while its depth in the cabin was only a foot, in these the depth was +nearly two feet. Some of the bedding projected from the berths, but it +was a mass of mould and crumbled at the touch. + +Brandon went into each of these rooms in succession, and brushed out +the heavy, wet sand from the berths. The rotten quilts and blankets fell +with the sand in matted masses to the floor. In each room was a seaman's +chest. Two of these were covered deeply; the other two but lightly: +the latter were unlocked, and he opened the lids. Only some old clothes +appeared, however, and these in the same stage of decay as every thing +else. In one of them was a book, or rather what had once been a book, +but now the leaves were all stuck together, and formed one lump of slime +and mould. In spite of his most careful search he had thus far found +nothing whatever which could be of the slightest benefit to him in his +solitude and necessity. + +There were still two rooms which he had not yet examined. These were at +the end of the cabin, at the stern of the ship, each taking up one half +of the width. The sand had drifted in here to about the same depth as in +the side-rooms. He entered first the one nearest him, which was on the +right side of the ship. This room was about ten feet long, extending +from the middle of the ship to the side, and about six feet wide. A +telescope was the first thing which attracted his attention. It lay in a +rack near the doorway. He took it down, but it fell apart at once, being +completely corroded. In the middle of the room there was a compass, +which hung from the ceiling. But the iron pivot had rusted, and the +plate had fallen down. Some more guns and swords were here, but all +rusted like the others. There was a table at the wall by the stern, +covered with sand. An arm-chair stood close by it, and opposite this +was a couch. At the end of this room was a berth which had the same +appearance as the other berths in the other rooms. The quilts and +mattresses as he felt them beneath the damp sand were equally decayed. +Too long had the ship been exposed to the ravages of time, and Brandon +saw that to seek for any thing here which could be of the slightest +service to himself was in the highest degree useless. + +This last room seemed to him as though it might have been the captain's. +That captain was Cigole, the very man who had flung him overboard. He +had unconsciously by so doing sent him to the scene of his early crime. +Was this visit to be all in vain? Thus far it seemed so. But might there +not yet be something beneath this sand which might satisfy him in his +search? + +There still remained another room. Might there not be something there? + +Brandon went back into the cabin and stood looking at the open doorway +of that other room. + +He hesitated. Why? Perhaps it was the thought that here was his last +chance, that here his exploration must end, and if nothing came of it +then all this adventure would be in vain. Then the fantastic hopes and +fears which by turns had agitated him would prove to have been absurd, +and he, instead of being sent by Fate as the minister of vengeance, +would be only the commonplace victim of an everyday accident. + +Perhaps it was some instinct within him that made known to his mind what +awaited him there. For now as he stood that old horror came upon him +full and strong. Weakness and excitement made his heart beat and his +ears ring. Now his fancy became wild, and he recalled with painful +vividness his father's words: + +"In the crisis of your fate I will be near." + +The horrors of the past night recurred. The air of the cabin was close +and suffocating. There seemed in that dark room before him some dread +Presence, he knew not what; some Being, who had uncovered this his abode +and enticed him here. + +He found himself rapidly falling into that state in which he would not +have been able either to advance or retreat. One overmastering horror +seized him. Twice his spirit sought to overcome the faintness and +weakness of the flesh. Twice he stepped resolutely forward; but each +time he faltered and recoiled. + +Here was no place for him to summon up his strength. He could bear it +no longer. He turned abruptly and rushed out from the damp, gloomy place +into the warm, bright sunshine and the free air of heaven. + +The air was bright, the wind blew fresh. He drank in great draughts of +that delicious breeze, and the salt sea seemed to be inhaled at each +breath. + +The sun shone brilliantly. The sea rolled afar and all around, and +sparkled before him under the sun's rays with that infinite laughter, +that [Greek: anaerithmon gelasma] of which Aeschylus spoke in his deep +love of the salt sea. Speaking parenthetically, it may be said that +the only ones from among articulate speaking men who have found fitting +epithets for the sea are the old Greek, the Scandinavian, and the +Englishman. + +Brandon drew in new strength and life with every breath, till at last he +began to think once more of returning. + +But even yet he feared that when he entered that cabin the spell would +be on him. The thought of attempting it was intolerable. Yet what was +to be done? To remain unsatisfied was equally intolerable. To go back to +his rock was not to be thought of. + +But an effort must be made to get rid of this womanly fear; why should +he yield to this? Surely there were other thoughts which he might call +to his mind. There came over him the memory of that villain who had cast +him here, who now was exulting in his fancied success and bearing back +to his master the news. There came to him the thought of his father, +and his wrongs, and his woe. There came to his memory his father's dying +words summoning him to vengeance. There came to him the thought of those +who yet lived and suffered in England, at the mercy of a pitiless enemy. +Should he falter at a superstitious fancy, he--who, if he lived, had so +great a purpose? + +All superstitious fancy faded away. The thirst for revenge, the sense of +intolerable wrong arose. Fear and horror died out utterly, destroyed by +Vengeance. + +"The Presence, then, is my ally," he murmured. "I will go and face It." + +And he walked resolutely, with a firm step, back into the cabin. + +Yet even then it needed all the new-born resolution which he had +summoned up, and all the thought of his wrong, to sustain him as he +entered that inner room. Even then a sharp thrill passed through him, +and bodily weakness could only be sustained by the strong, resolute, +stubborn soul. + +[Illustration: "THERE SEEMED A GHASTLY COMICALITY IN SUCH A THING AS +THIS," ETC.] + +The room was about the size of the captain's. There was a table against +the side, which looked like a leaf which could hang down in case of +necessity. A trunk stood opposite the door, with the open lid projecting +upward out of a mass of sand. Upon the wall there hung the collar of a +coat and part of the shoulders, the rest having apparently fallen away +from decay. The color of the coat could still be distinguished; it was +red, and the epaulets showed that it had belonged to a British officer. + +Brandon on entering took in all these details at a glance, and then his +eyes were drawn to the berth at the end of the room, where that Thing +lay whose presence he had felt and feared, and which he knew by an +internal conviction must be here. + +There It awaited him, on the berth. Sand had covered it, like a +coverlet, up to the neck, while beyond that protruded the head. It was +turned toward him: a bony, skeleton head, whose hollow cavities seemed +not altogether vacancy but rather dark eyes which looked gloomily at +him--dark eyes fixed, motionless; which had been thus fixed through the +long years, watching wistfully for him, expecting his entrance through +that doorway. And this was the Being who had assisted him to the shore, +and who had thrown off the covering of sand with which he had concealed +himself, so as to bring him here before him. Brandon stood motionless, +mute. The face was turned toward him--that face which is at once human +and yet most frightful since it is the face of Death--the face of a +skeleton. The jaws had fallen apart, and that fearful grin which is +fixed on the fleshless face here seemed like an effort at a smile of +welcome. + +The hair still clung to that head, and hung down over the fleshless +forehead, giving it more the appearance of Death in life, and lending a +new horror to that which already pervaded this Dweller in the Ship. + + "The nightmare Life-in-Death was he, + That thicks men's blood with cold." + +Brandon stood while his blood ran chill, and his breath came fast. + +If that Form had suddenly thrown off its sandy coverlet and risen to +his feet, and advanced with extended hand to meet him, he would not have +been surprised, nor would he have been one whit more horror-stricken. + +Brandon stood fixed. He could not move. He was like one in a nightmare. +His limbs seemed rigid. A spell was upon him. His eyes seemed to fasten +themselves on the hollow cavities of the Form before him. But under that +tremendous pressure he did not altogether sink. Slowly his spirit rose; +a thought of flight came, but it was instantly rejected. The next moment +he drew a long breath. "I'm an infernal fool and coward," he muttered. +He took three steps forward, and stood beside the Figure. He laid his +hand firmly upon the head; the hair fell off at his touch. "Poor devil," +said he, "I'll bury your bones at any rate." The spell was broken, and +Brandon was himself again. + +Once more Brandon walked out into the open air, but this time there was +not a vestige of horror left. He had encountered what he dreaded, and +it was now in his eyes only a mass of bones. Yet there was much to think +of, and the struggle which had raged within him had exhausted him. + +The sea-breeze played about him and soon restored his strength. What +next to do was the question, and after some deliberation he decided at +once to remove the skeleton and bury it. + +A flat board which had served as a shelf supplied him with an easy way +of turning up the sand. Occupation was pleasant, and in an hour or two +he had scooped out a place large enough for the purpose which he had in +view. He then went back into the inner cabin. + +Taking his board he removed carefully the sand which had covered the +skeleton. The clothes came away with it. As he moved his board along it +struck something hard. He could not see in that dim light what it was, +so he reached down his hand and grasped it. + +It was something which the fingers of the skeleton also encircled, for +his own hand as he grasped it touched those fingers. Drawing it forth he +perceived that it was a common junk bottle tightly corked. + +There seemed a ghastly comicality in such a thing as this, that this +lately dreaded Being should be nothing more than a common skeleton, and +that he should be discovered in this bed of horror doing nothing more +dignified than clutching a junk bottle like a sleeping drunkard. Brandon +smiled faintly at the idea; and then thinking that, if the liquor were +good, it at least would be welcome to him in his present situation. He +walked out upon the deck, intending to open it and test its contents. +So he sat down, and, taking his knife, he pushed the cork in. Then he +smelled the supposed liquor to see what it might be. There was only a +musty odor. He looked in. The bottle appeared to be filled with paper. +Then the whole truth flashed upon his mind. He struck the bottle upon +the deck. It broke to atoms, and there lay a scroll of paper covered +with writing. + +He seized it eagerly, and was about opening it to read what was written +when he noticed something else that also had fallen from the bottle. + +It was a cord about two yards in length, made of the entrail of some +animal, and still as strong and as flexible as when it was first made. +He took it up carefully, wondering why such a thing as this should have +been so carefully sealed up and preserved when so many other things had +been neglected. + +The cord, on a close examination, presented nothing very remarkable +except the fact that, though very thin, it appeared to have been not +twisted but plaited in a very peculiar manner out of many fine strands. +The intention had evidently been to give to it the utmost possible +strength together with the smallest size. Brandon had heard of cords +used by Malays and Hindus for assassination, and this seemed like the +description which he had read of them. + +At one end of the cord was a piece of bronze about the size of a common +marble, to which the cord was attached by a most peculiar knot. The +bronze itself was intended to represent the head of some Hindu idol, the +grotesque ferocity of its features, and the hideous grimace of the mouth +being exactly like what one may see in the images of Mother Kali or +Bowhani. + +At once the cord associated itself in his mind with the horrors which he +had heard of as having been perpetrated in the names of these frightful +deities, and it seemed now to be more than a common one. He carefully +wound it up, placed it in his pocket, and prepared to examine the +manuscript. + +The sun was high in the heavens, the sea-breeze still blew freshly, +while Brandon, opening the manuscript, began to read. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE. + +"BRIG 'VISHNU,' ADRIFT IN THE CHINESE SEA. + +"July 10, 1828. + +"Whoever finds this let him know that I, Lionel Despard, Colonel of H. +M. 37th Regiment, have been the victim of a foul conspiracy performed +against me by the captain and crew of the brig _Vishnu_, and especially +by my servant, John Potts. + +"Expecting at any time to perish, adrift helplessly, at the mercy +of winds and waves, I sit down now before I die, to write all the +circumstances of this affair. I will inclose the manuscript in a bottle +and fling it into the sea, trusting in God that he may cause it to be +borne to those who may be enabled to read my words, so that they may +know my fate and bring the guilty to justice. Whoever finds this let +him, if possible, have it sent to my friend, Ralph Brandon, of Brandon +Hall, Devonshire, England, who will do more than any other man to cause +justice to have its due. + +"To further the ends of justice and to satisfy the desires of my +friends, I will write an account of the whole case. + +"In the name of God, I declare that John Potts is guilty of my death. +He was my servant. I first found him in India under very remarkable +circumstances. + +"It was in the year 1826. The Government was engaged in an effort to put +down bands of assassins by whom the most terrific atrocities had been +committed, and I was appointed to conduct the work in the district of +Agra. + +"The Thuggee society is still a mystery, though its nature may yet be +revealed if they can only capture the chief [Footnote: The chief was +captured in 1830, and by his confession all the atrocious system of +Thuggee was revealed.] and make him confess. As yet it is not fully +known, and though I have heard much which I have reported to the +Government, yet I am slow to believe that any human beings can actually +practice what I have heard. + +"The assassins whom I was pursuing eluded our pursuit with marvelous +agility and cunning, but one by one we captured them, and punished them +summarily. At last we surrounded a band of Thugs, and to our amazement +found among them a European and a small boy. At our attack the Hindus +made a desperate resistance, and killed themselves rather than fall into +our hands; but the European, leading forward the little boy, fell on his +knees and implored us to save him. + +"I had heard that an Englishman had joined these wretches, and at first +thought that this was the man; so, desirous of capturing him, I ordered +my men whenever they found him to spare his life if possible. This man +was at once seized and brought before me. + +"He had a piteous story to tell. He said that his name was John Potts, +that he belonged to Southampton, and had been in India a year. He had +come to Agra to look out for employ as a servant, and had been caught +by the Thugs. They offered to spare his life if he would join them. +According to him they always make this offer. If it had only been +himself that was concerned he said that he would have died a hundred +times rather than have accepted; but his little boy was with him, and +to save his life he consented, hoping that somehow or other he might +escape. They then received him with some horrible ceremonies, and marked +on his arm and on the arm of his son, on the inner part of the right +elbow, the name of Bowhani in Hindu characters. Potts showed me his arm +and that of his son in proof of this. + +"He had been with them, according to his own account, about three +months, and his life had been one continuous horror. He had picked up +enough of their language to conjecture to some extent the nature of +their belief, which, he asserted, would be most important information +for the Government. The Thugs had treated him very kindly, for they +looked upon him as one of themselves, and they are all very humane and +affectionate to one another. His worst fear had been that they would +compel him to do murder; and he would have died, he declared, rather +than consent; but, fortunately, he was spared. The reason of this, he +said, was because they always do their murder by strangling, since the +shedding of blood is not acceptable to their divinity. He could not do +this, for it requires great dexterity. Almost all their strangling +is done by a thin, strong cord, curiously twisted, about six feet in +length, with a weight at one end, generally carved so as to represent +the face of Bowhani. This they throw with a peculiar jerk around the +neck of their victim. The weight swings the cord round and round, while +the strangler pulls the other end, and death is inevitable. His hands, +he said, were coarse and clumsy, unlike the delicate Hindu hands; and +so, although they forced him to practice incessantly, he could not +learn. He said nothing about the boy, but, from what I saw of that boy +afterward, I believe that nature created him especially to be a Thug, +and have no doubt that he learned then to wield the cord with as much +dexterity as the best strangler of them all. + +"His association with them had shown him much of their ordinary habits +and some of their beliefs. I gathered from what he said that the basis +of the Thuggee society is the worship of Bowhani, a frightful demon, +whose highest joy is the sight of death or dead bodies. Those who are +her disciples must offer up human victims killed without the shedding +of blood, and the more he can kill the more of a saint he becomes. +The motive for this is never gain, for they rarely plunder, but purely +religious zeal. The reward is an immortality of bliss hereafter, which +Bowhani will secure them; a life like that of the Mohammedan Paradise, +where there are material joys to be possessed forever without satiety. +Destruction, which begins as a kind of duty, becomes also at last, and +naturally perhaps, an absorbing passion. As the hunter in pursuing his +prey is carried away by excitement and the enthusiasm of the chase, or, +in hunting the tiger, feels the delight of braving danger and displaying +courage, so here that same passion is felt to an extraordinary degree, +for it is men that must be pursued and destroyed. Here, in addition to +courage, the hunter of man must call into exercise cunning, foresight, +eloquence, intrigue. All this I afterward brought to the attention of +the Government with very good results. + +"Potts declared that night and day he had been on the watch for a chance +to escape, but so infernal was the cunning of these wretches, and so +quick their senses, sharpened as they had been by long practice, +that success became hopeless. He had fallen into deep dejection, and +concluded that his only hope lay in the efforts of the Government to put +down these assassins. Our appearance had at last saved him. + +"Neither I, nor any of my men, nor any Englishman who heard this story, +doubted for an instant the truth of every word. All the newspapers +mentioned with delight the fact that an Englishman and his son had been +rescued. Pity was felt for that father who, for his son's sake, had +consented to dwell amidst scenes of terror, and sympathy for the anguish +that he most have endured during that terrific captivity. A thrill of +horror passed through all our Anglo-Indian society at the revelation +which he made about Thuggee; and so great was the feeling in his favor +that a handsome subscription was made up for him by the officers at +Agra. + +"For my part I believed in him most implicitly, and, as I saw him to be +unusually clever, I engaged him at once to be my servant. He staid with +me, and every month won more and more of my confidence. He had a good +head for business. Matters of considerable delicacy which I intrusted +to him were well performed, and at last I thought it the most fortunate +circumstance in my Indian life that I had found such a man. + +"After about three years he expressed a wish to go to England for the +sake of his son. He thought India a bad place for a boy, and wished to +try and start in some business in his native land for his son's sake. + +"That boy had always been my detestation--a crafty, stealthy, wily, +malicious little demon, who was a perfect Thug in his nature, without +any religious basis to his Thuggeeism. I pitied Potts for being the +father of such a son. I could not let the little devil live in my house; +his cruelty to animals which he delighted to torture, his thieving +propensities, and his infernal deceit, were all so intolerable. He +was not more than twelve, but he was older in iniquity than many a +gray-headed villain. To oblige Potts, whom I still trusted implicitly, +I wrote to my old friend Ralph Brandon, of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, +requesting him to do what he could for so deserving a man. + +"Just about this time an event occurred which has brought me to this. + +"My sweet wife had been ill for two years. I had obtained a faithful +nurse in the person of a Mrs. Compton, a poor creature, but gentle and +affectionate, for whom my dear love's sympathy had been excited. No one +could have been more faithful than Mrs. Compton, and I sent my darling +to the hill station at Assurabad in hopes that the cooler air might +reinvigorate her. + +"She died. It is only a month or two since that frightful blow fell and +crushed me. To think of it overwhelms me--to write of it is impossible. + +"I could think of nothing but to fly from my unendurable grief. I wished +to get away from India any where. Before the blow crushed me I hoped +that I might carry my darling to the Cape of Good Hope, and therefore +I remitted there a large sum; but after she left me I cared not where +I went, and finding that a vessel was going to Manilla I decided to go +there. + +"It was Potts who found out this. I now know that he engaged the vessel, +put the crew on board, who were all creatures of his own, and took the +route to Manilla for the sake of carrying out his designs on me. To +give every thing a fair appearance the vessel was laden with stores and +things of that sort, for which there was a demand at Manilla. It was +with the most perfect indifference that I embarked. I cared not where I +went, and hoped that the novelty of the sea voyage might benefit me. + +"The captain was an Italian named Cigole, a low-browed, evil-faced +villain. The mate was named Clark. There were three Lascars, who formed +the small crew. Potts came with me, and also an old servant of mine, +a Malay; whose life I had saved years before. His name was Uracao. It +struck me that the crew was a small one, but I thought the captain knew +his business better than I, and so I gave myself no concern. + +"After we embarked Potts's manner changed very greatly. I remember this +now, though I did not notice it at the time, for I was almost in a +kind of stupor. He was particularly insolent to Uracao. I remember +once thinking indifferently that Potts would have to be reprimanded, or +kicked, or something of that sort, but was not capable of any action. + +"Uracao had for years slept in front of my door when at home, and, when +traveling, in the same room. He always waked at the slightest noise. He +regarded his life as mine, and thought that he was bound to watch over +me till I died. Although this was often inconvenient, yet it would have +broken the affectionate fellow's heart if I had forbidden it, so it +went on. Potts made an effort to induce him to sleep forward among +the Lascars, but though Uracao had borne insolence from him without a +murmur, this proposal made his eyes kindle with a menacing fire which +silenced the other into fear. + +"The passage was a quick one, and at last we were only a few days' sail +from Manilla. Now our quiet came to an end. One night I was awakened by +a tremendous struggle in my cabin. Starting up, I saw in the gloom two +figures struggling desperately. It was impossible to see who they were. +I sprang from the berth and felt for my pistols. They were gone. + +"'What the devil is this?' I roared fiercely. + +"No answer came; but the next moment there was a tremendous fall, and +one of the men clung to the other, whom he held downward. I sprang from +my berth. There were low voices out in the cabin. + +"'You can't,' said one voice, which I recognized as Clark's. 'He has his +pistols.' + +"'He hasn't,' said the voice of Cigole. 'Potts took them away. He's +unarmed.' + +"'Who are you?' I cried, grasping the man who was holding the other +down. + +"'Uracao,' said he. 'Get your pistols or you're lost!' + +"'What the devil is the matter?' I cried, angrily, for I had not even +yet a suspicion. + +"'Feel around your neck,' said he. + +"Hastily I put my hand up. A thrill of terror passed through me. It was +the Thuggee cord. + +"'Who is this?' I cried, grasping the man who had fallen. + +"'Potts,' cried Uracao. 'Your pistols are under your berth. Quick! Potts +tried to strangle you. There's a plot. The Lascars are Thugs. I saw the +mark on their arms, the name of Bowhani in Hindu letters.' + +"All the truth now seemed to flash across me. I leaped back to the berth +to look under it for my pistols. As I stooped there was a rush behind +me. + +"'Help! Clark! Quick!' cried the voice of Potts. 'This devil's +strangling me!' + +"At this a tumult arose round the two men. Uracao was dragged off. +Potts rose to his feet. At that moment I found my pistols. I could not +distinguish persons, but I ran the risk and fired. A sharp cry followed. +Somebody was wounded. + +"'Damn him!' cried Potts, 'he's got the pistols.' + +"The next moment they had all rushed out, dragging Uracao with them. +The door was drawn to violently with a bang and fastened on the outside. +They had captured the only man who could help me, and I was a prisoner +at the mercy of these miscreants. + +"All the remainder of the night and until the following morning I heard +noises and trampling to and fro, but had no idea whatever of what was +going on. I felt indignation at the treachery of Potts, who, I now +perceived, had deceived me all along, but had no fear whatever of any +thing that might happen. Death was rather grateful than otherwise. Still +I determined to sell my life as dearly as possible, and, loading my +pistol once more, I waited for them to come. The only anxiety which I +felt was about my poor faithful Malay. + +"But time passed, and at last all was still. There was no sound either +of voices or of footsteps. I waited for what seemed hours in impatience, +until finally I could endure it no longer. I was not going to die like a +dog, but determined at all hazards to go out armed, face them, and meet +my doom at once. + +"A few vigorous kicks at the door broke it open and I walked out. There +was no one in the cabin. I went out on deck. There was no one there. I +saw it all. I was deserted. More; the brig had settled down so low in +the water that the sea was up to her gunwales. I looked out over the +ocean to see if I could perceive any trace of them--Potts and the rest. +I saw nothing. They must have left long before. A faint smoke in the +hatchway attracted my attention. Looking there, I perceived that it had +been burned away. The villains had evidently tried to scuttle the brig, +and then, to make doubly sure, had kindled a fire on the cargo, thinking +that the wooden materials of which it was composed would kindle readily. +But the water had rushed in too rapidly for the flames to spread; +nevertheless, the water was not able to do its work, for the wood cargo +kept the brig afloat. She was water-logged but still floating. + +"The masts and shrouds were all cut away. The vessel was now little +better than a raft, and was drifting at the mercy of the ocean currents. +For my part I did not much care. I had no desire to go to Manilla or +any where else; and the love of life which is usually so strong did not +exist. I should have preferred to have been killed or drowned at once. +Instead of that I lived. + +"She died on June 15. It was the 2d of July when this occurred which +I have narrated. It is now the 10th. For a week I have been drifting +I know not where. I have seen no land. There are enough provisions and +water on board to sustain me for months. The weather has been fine thus +far. + +"I have written this with the wish that whoever may find it will send +it to Ralph Brandon, Esq., of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, that he may see +that justice is done to Potts, and the rest of the conspirators. Let him +also try, if it be not too late, to save Uracao. If this fall into the +hands of any one going to England let it be delivered to him as above, +but if the finder be going to India let him place it in the hands of the +Governor-General; if to China or any other place, let him give it to +the authorities, enjoining them, however, after using it, to send it to +Ralph Brandon as above. + +"It will be seen by this that John Potts was in connection with the +Thugs, probably for the sake of plundering those whom they murdered: +that he conspired against me and tried to kill me; and that he has +wrought my death (for I expect to die). An examination of my desk shows +that he has taken papers and bank bills to the amount of four thousand +pounds with him. It was this, no doubt, that induced him to make this +attempt against me. + +"I desire also hereby to appoint Henry Thornton, Sen., Esq., of Holby +Pembroke, Solicitor, my executor and the guardian of my son Courtenay, +to whom I bequeath a father's blessing and all that I possess. Let him +try to secure my money in Cape Town for my boy, and, if possible, to +regain for him the four thousand pounds which Potts has carried off. + +"Along with this manuscript I also inclose the strangling cord. + +"May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen. + +"LIONEL DESPARD." + +"July 28.--Since I wrote this there has been a series of tremendous +storms. The weather has cleared up again. I have seen no land and no +ship. + +"July 31.--Land to-day visible at a great distance on the south. I know +not what land it may be. I can not tell in what direction I am drifting. + +"August 2.--Land visible toward the southwest. It seems like the summit +of a range of mountains, and is probably fifty miles distant. + +"August 5.--A sail appeared on the horizon. It was too distant to +perceive me. It passed out of sight. + +"August 10.--A series of severe gales. The sea always rolls over the +brig in these storms, and sometimes seems about to carry her down. + +"August 20.--Storms and calms alternating. When will this end? + +"August 25.--Land again toward the west. It seems as though I may be +drifting among the islands of the Indian Archipelago. + +"September 2.--I have been sick for a week. Unfortunately I am beginning +to recover again. A faint blue streak in the north seems like land. + +"September 10.--Open water. + +"September 23.--A series of storms. How the brig can stand it I can +not see. I remember Potts telling me that she was built of mahogany +and copper-fastened. She does not appear to be much injured. I am +exceedingly weak from want and exposure. It is with difficulty that I +can move about. + +"October 2.--Three months adrift. My God have mercy on me, and make +haste to deliver me! A storm is rising. Let all Thy waves and billows +overwhelm me, O Lord! + +"October 5.--A terrific storm. Raged three days. The brig has run +aground. It is a low island, with a rock about five miles away. Thank +God, my last hour is at hand. The sea is rushing in with tremendous +violence, hurling sand upon the brig. I shall drift no more. I can +scarcely hold this pen. These are my last words. This is for Ralph +Brandon. My blessing for my loved son. I feel death coming. Whether the +storm takes me or not, I must die. + +"Whoever finds this will take it from my hand, and, in the name of God, +I charge him to do my bidding." + +This was the last. The concluding pages of the manuscript were scarcely +legible. The entries were meagre and formal, but the hand-writing spoke +of the darkest despair. What agonies had this man not endured during +those three months! + +Brandon folded up the manuscript reverentially, and put it into his +pocket. He then went back into the cabin. Taking the bony skeleton hand +he exclaimed, in a solemn voice, "In the name of God, if I am saved, I +swear to do your bidding!" + +He next proceeded to perform the last offices to the remains of Colonel +Despard. On removing the sand something bright struck his eye. It was a +gold locket. As he tried to open it the rusty hinge broke, and the cover +came off. + +[Illustration: "THREE MONTHS ADRIFT."] + +It was a painting on enamel, which was as bright as when made--the +portrait of a beautiful woman, with pensive eyes, and delicate, +intellectual expression; and appeared as though it might have been worn +around the Colonel's neck. Brandon sighed, then putting this in his +pocket with the manuscript he proceeded to his task. In an hour the +remains were buried in the grave on Coffin Island. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +THE SIGNAL OF FIRE. + +The wreck broke in upon the monotony of Brandon's island life and +changed the current of his thoughts. The revelations contained in +Despard's manuscript came with perfect novelty to his mind. Potts, his +enemy, now stood before him in darker colors, the foulest of miscreants, +one who had descended to an association with Thuggee, one who bore on +his arm the dread mark of Bowhani. Against such an enemy as this he +would have to be wary. If this enemy suspected his existence could he +not readily find means to effect his destruction forever? Who could +tell what mysterious allies this man might have? Cigole had tracked +and followed him with the patience and vindictiveness of a blood-hound. +There might be many such as he. He saw plainly that if he ever escaped +his first and highest necessity would be to work in secret, to conceal +his true name, and to let it be supposed that Louis Brandon had been +drowned, while another name would enable him to do what he wished. + +The message of Despard was now a sacred legacy to himself. The duty +which the murdered man had imposed upon his father must now be inherited +by him. Even this could scarcely add to the obligations to vengeance +under which he already lay; yet it freshened his passion and quickened +his resolve. + +The brig was a novelty to him here, and as day succeeded to day he found +occupation in searching her. During the hotter part of the day he busied +himself in shoveling out the sand from the cavern with a board. In the +cool of the morning or evening he worked at the hatchway. Here he soon +reached the cargo. + +This cargo consisted of staves and short boards. All were blackened, and +showed traces of fire. The fire seemed to have burned down to a depth of +four feet, and two or three feet under the sides; then the water coming +in had quenched it. + +He drew out hundreds of these staves and boards, which were packed in +bundles, six boards being nailed together as box-shooks, and thirty or +forty staves. These he threw out upon the deck and on the sand. What +remained he drew about and scattered loosely in the hold of the vessel. +He did this with a purpose, for he looked forward to the time when +some ship might pass, and it would then be necessary to attract her +attention. There was no way of doing so. He had no pole, and if he +had it might not be noticed. A fire would be the surest way of drawing +attention, and all this wood gave him the means of building one. He +scattered it about on the sand, so that it might dry in the hot sun. + +Yet it was also necessary to have some sort of a signal to elevate +in case of need. He had nothing but a knife to work with; yet patient +effort will do much, and after about a week he had cut away the rail +that ran along the quarter-deck, which gave him a pole some twenty feet +in length. The nails that fastened the boards were all rusted so that +they could not be used in attaching any thing to this. He decided +when the time came to tie his coat to it, and use that as a flag. It +certainly ought to be able to attract attention. + +Occupied with such plans and labors and purposes as these, the days +passed quickly for two weeks. By that time the fierce rays of the sun +had dried every board and stave so that it became like tinder. The ship +itself felt the heat; the seams gaped more widely, the boards warped and +fell away from their rusty nails, the timbers were exposed all over it, +and the hot, dry wind penetrated every cranny. The interior of the hold +and the cabin became free from damp, and hot and dry. + +Then Brandon flung back many of the boards and staves loosely; and after +enough had been thrown there he worked laboriously for days cutting up +large numbers of the boards into fine splints, until at last a huge pile +of these shavings were accumulated. With these and his pistol he would +be able to obtain light and fire in the time of need. + +The post which he had cut off was then sharpened at one end, so that he +could fix it in the sand when the time came, should it ever come. Here, +then, these preparations were completed. + +After all his labor in the cabin nothing was found. The bedding, the +mattresses, the chests, the nautical instruments had all been ruined. +The tables and chairs fell to pieces when the sand was removed; the +doors and wood-work sank away; the cabin when cleared remained a wreck. + +The weather continued hot and dry. At night Brandon flung himself down +wherever he happened to be, either at the brig or at the rock. Every day +he had to go to the rock for water, and also to look out toward the sea +from that side. At first, while intent upon his work at the ship, the +sight of the barren horizon every day did not materially affect him; he +rose superior to despondency and cheered himself with his task. But +at length, at the end of about three weeks, all this work was done and +nothing more remained. His only idea was to labor to effect his escape, +and not to insure his comfort during his stay. + +Now as day succeeded to day all his old gloom returned. The excitement +of the last few weeks had acted favorably upon his bodily health, but +when this was removed he began to feel more than his old weakness. Such +diet as his might sustain nature, but it could not preserve health. He +grew at length to loathe the food which he had to take, and it was only +by a stern resolve that he forced himself to swallow it. + +At length a new evil was superadded to those which had already afflicted +him. During the first part of his stay the hollow or pool of water on +the rock had always been kept filled by the frequent rains. But now for +three weeks, in fact ever since the uncovering of the _Vishnu_, not a +single drop of rain had fallen. The sun shone with intense heat, and the +evaporation was great. The wind at first tempered this heat somewhat, +but at last this ceased to blow by day, and often for hours there was a +dead calm, in which the water of the sea lay unruffled and all the air +was motionless. + +If there could only have been something which he could stretch over that +precious pool of water he might then have arrested its flight. But he +had nothing, and could contrive nothing. Every day saw a perceptible +decrease in its volume, and at last it went down so low that he thought +he could count the number of days that were left him to live. But his +despair could not stay the operation of the laws of nature, and he +watched the decrease of that water as one watches the failing breath of +a dying child. + +Many weeks passed, and the water of the pool still diminished. At last +it had sunk so low that Brandon could not hope to live more than another +week unless rain came, and that now he could scarcely expect. The +look-out became more hopeless, and at length his thoughts, instead of +turning toward escape, were occupied with deliberating whether he would +probably die of starvation or simple physical exhaustion. He began to +enter into that state of mind which he had read in Despard's MSS., in +which life ceases to be a matter of desire, and the only wish left is to +die as quickly and as painlessly as possible. + +At length one day as his eyes swept the waters mechanically out of pure +habit, and not expecting any thing, he saw far away to the northeast +something which looked like a sail. He watched it for an hour before +he fairly decided that it was not some mocking cloud. But at the end +of that time it had grown larger, and had assumed a form which no cloud +could keep so long. + +Now his heart beat fast, and all the old longing for escape, and the +old love of life returned with fresh vehemence. This new emotion +over-powered him, and he did not try to struggle with it. + +Now had come the day and the hour when all life was in suspense. This +was his first hope, and he felt that it must be his last. Experience had +shown that the island must lie outside the common track of vessels, and, +in the ordinary course of things, if this passed by he could not hope to +see another. + +Now he had to decide how to attract her notice. She was still far away, +yet she was evidently drawing nearer. The rock was higher than the mound +and more conspicuous. He determined to carry his signal there, and erect +it somewhere on that place. So he took up the heavy staff, and bore it +laboriously over the sand till he reached the rock. + +By the time that he arrived there the vessel had come nearer. Her +top-sails were visible above the horizon. Her progress was very slow, +for there was only very little wind. Her studding-sails were all set +to catch the breeze, and her course was such that she came gradually +nearer. Whether she would come near enough to see the island was another +question. Yet if they thought of keeping a look-out, if the men in the +tops had glasses, this rock and the signal could easily be seen. He +feared, however, that this would not be thought of. The existence of +Coffin Island was not generally known, and if they supposed that there +was only open water here they would not be on the look-out at all. + +[Illustration: "STILL HE STOOD THERE, HOLDING ALOFT HIS SIGNAL."] + +Nevertheless Brandon erected his signal, and as there was no place on +the solid rock where he could insert it he held it up in his own hands. +Hours passed. The ship had come very much nearer, but her hull was not +yet visible. Still he stood there under the burning sun, holding aloft +his signal. Fearing that it might not be sufficiently conspicuous he +fastened his coat to the top, and then waved it slowly backward and +forward. + +The ship moved more slowly than ever; but still it was coming nearer; +for after some time, which seemed to that lonely watcher like entire +days, her hull became visible, and her course still lay nearer. + +Now Brandon felt that he must be noticed. He waved his signal +incessantly. He even leaped in the air, so that he might be seen. He +thought that the rock would surely be perceived from the ship, and if +they looked at that they would see the figure upon it. + +Then despondency came over him. The hull of the ship was visible, but it +was only the uppermost line of the hull. He was standing on the very top +of the rock, on its highest point. From the deck they could not see the +rock itself. He stooped down, and perceived that the hull of the ship +sank out of sight. Then he knew that the rock would not be visible to +them at all. Only the upper half of his body could by any possibility +be visible, and he knew enough of the sea to understand that this +would have the dark sea for a back-ground to observers in the ship, and +therefore could not be seen. + +Still he would not yield to the dejection that was rapidly coming over +him, and deepening into despair every minute. Never before had he so +clung to hope--never before had his soul been more indomitable in its +resolution, more vigorous in its strong self-assertion. + +He stood there still waving his staff as though his life now depended +upon that dumb yet eloquent signal--as though, like Moses, as long +as his arms were erect, so long would he be able to triumph over the +assault of despair. Hours passed. Still no notice was taken of him. +Still the ship held on her course slowly, yet steadily, and no change +of direction, no movement of any kind whatever, showed that he had been +seen. What troubled him now was the idea that the ship did not come +any nearer. This at first he refused to believe, but at last he saw it +beyond doubt, for at length the hull was no longer visible above the +horizon. + +The ship was now due north from the rock, sailing on a line directly +parallel with the island. It came no nearer. It was only passing by it. +And now Brandon saw that his last hope of attracting attention by the +signal was gone. The ship was moving onward to the west, and every +minute would make it less likely that those on board could see the rock. + +During the hours in which he had watched the ship he had been busy +conjecturing what she might be, and from what port she might have come. +The direction indicated China almost undoubtedly. He depicted in his +mind a large, commodious, and swift ship, with many passengers on +their way back to England. He imagined pleasant society, and general +intercourse. His fancy created a thousand scenes of delightful +association with "the kindly race of men." All earthly happiness seemed +to him at that time to find its centre on board that ship which passed +before his eyes. + +The seas were bright and sparkling, the skies calm and deeply blue, the +winds breathed softly, the white swelling sails puffed out like clouds +against the blue sky beyond. That ship seemed to the lonely watcher like +Heaven itself. Oh! to pass beyond the limits of this narrow sandy waste! +to cross the waters and enter there! Oh! to reach that ship which moved +on so majestically, to enter there and be at rest! + +It was not given him to enter there. Brandon soon saw this. The ship +moved farther away. Already the sun was sinking, and the sudden night of +the tropics was coming swiftly on. There was no longer any hope. + +He flung the staff down till it broke asunder on the hard rock, and +stood for a few moments looking out at sea in mute despair. + +Yet could he have known what was shortly to be the fate of that +ship--shortly, only in a few days--he would not have despaired, he would +have rejoiced, since if death were to be his lot it were better to die +where he was than to be rescued and gain the sweet hope of life afresh, +and then have that hope extinguished in blood. + +But Brandon did not remain long in idleness. There was yet one +resource--one which he had already thought of through that long day, but +hesitated to try, since he would have to forsake his signal-station; and +to remain there with his staff seemed to him then the only purpose of +his life. Now since the signal-staff had failed, he had broken it, +as some magician might break the wand which had failed to work its +appropriate spell, and other things were before him. He took his coat +and descended from the rock to make a last effort for life. He walked +back through the gathering gloom toward the wreck. He did not run, nor +did he in any way exhibit any excitement whatever. He walked with a firm +step over the sand, neither hastening on nor lagging back, but advancing +calmly. + +Before he had gone half-way it was dark. The sun had gone down in a sea +of fire, and the western sky, after flaming for a time, had sunk into +darkness. There was no moon. The stars shone dimly from behind a kind +of haze that overspread the sky. The wind came up more freshly from +the east, and Brandon knew that this wind would carry the ship which he +wished to attract further and further away. That ship had now died out +in the dark of the ebon sea; the chances that he could catch its notice +were all against him, yet he never faltered. + +He had come to a fixed resolution, which was at all hazards to kindle +his signal-fire, whatever the chances against him might be. He thought +that the flames flaring up would of necessity attract attention, and +that the vessel might turn, or lie-to, and try to discover what this +might be. If this last hope failed, he was ready to die. Death had now +become to him rather a thing to be desired than avoided. For he knew +that it was only a change of life; and how much better would life be in +a spiritual world than life on this lonely isle. + +This decision to die took away despair. Despair is only possible to +those who value this earthly life exclusively. To the soul that looks +forward to endless life despair can never come. + +It was with this solemn purpose that Brandon went to the wreck, seeking +by a last chance after life, yet now prepared to relinquish it. He had +struggled for life all these weeks; he had fought and wrestled for life +with unutterable spiritual agony, all day long, on the summit of that +rock, and now the bitterness of death was past. + +An hour and a half was occupied in the walk over the sand to the wreck. +Fresh waves of dark had come over all things, and now, though there were +no clouds, yet the gloom was intense, and faint points of light in the +sky above showed where the stars might be. Where now was the ship +for which Brandon sought? He cared not. He was going to kindle his +signal-fire. The wind was blowing freshly by the time that he reached +the place. Such a wind had not blown for weeks. It would take the ship +away farther. What mattered it? He would seize his last chance, if it +were only to put that last chance away forever, and thus make an end of +suspense. + +All his preparations had long since been made; the dry wood lay loosely +thrown about the hold; the pile of shavings and fine thread-like +splinters was there awaiting him. He had only to apply the fire. + +He took his linen handkerchief and tore it up into fine threads, these +he tore apart again and rubbed in his hand till they were almost as +loose as lint. He then took these loose fibres, and descending into the +hold, put them underneath the pile which he had prepared. Then he look +his pistol, and holding it close to the lint fired it. + +The explosion rang out with startling force in the narrow hull of the +ship, the lint received the fire and glowed with the sparks into spots +of red heat. Brandon blew with his breath, and the wind streaming down +lent its assistance. + +In a few moments the work was done. + +It blazed! + +But scarcely had the first flame appeared than a puff of wind came down +and extinguished it. The sparks, however, were there yet. It was as +though the fickle wind were tantalizing him--at one time helping, at +another baffling him. Once more Brandon blew. Once more the blaze +arose. Brandon flung his coat skirts in front of it till it might gather +strength. The blaze ran rapidly through the fine splints, it extended +itself toward the shavings, it threw its arms upward to the larger +sticks. + +The dry wood kindled. A million sparks flew out as it cracked under the +assault of the devouring fire. The flame spread itself out to a larger +volume; it widened, expanded, and clasped the kindling all around in its +fervid embrace. The flame had been baffled at first; but now, as if to +assert its own supremacy, it rushed out in all directions with something +that seemed almost like exultation. That flame had once been conquered +by the waters in this very ship. The wood had saved the ship from the +waters. It was as though the WOOD had once invited the FIRE to union, +but the WATER had stepped in and prevented the union by force; as though +the WOOD, resenting the interference, had baffled the assaults of the +WATER, and saved itself intact through the long years for the embrace +of its first love. Now the FIRE sought the WOOD once more after so many +years, and in ardor unspeakable embraced its bride. + +Such fantastic notions passed through Brandon's fancy as he looked at +the triumph of the flame. But he could not stay there long, and as he +had not made up his mind to give himself to the flames he clambered up +quickly out of the hatchway and stood upon the sand without. + +The smoke was pouring through the hatchway, the black voluminous folds +being rendered visible by the glow of the flames beneath, which now had +gained the ascendency, and set all the winds at defiance. Indeed it was +so now that whatever wind came only assisted the flames, and Brandon, as +he looked on, amused himself with the thought that the wind was like the +world of man, which, when any one is first struggling, has a tendency to +crush him, but when he has once gained a foothold exerts all its efforts +to help him along. In this mood, half cynical, half imaginative, he +watched the progress of the flames. + +Soon all the fine kindling had crumbled away at the touch of the fire, +and communicating its own heat to the wood around, it sank down, a +glowing mass, the foundation of the rising fires. + +Here, from this central heart of fire, the flames rushed on upon the +wood which lay loosely on all sides, filling the hull. Through that wood +the dry hot wind had streamed for many weeks, till every stave and every +board had become dry to its utmost possibility. Now at the first breath +of the flame the wood yielded; at the first touch it flared up, and +prepared to receive the embrace of the fire in every fibre of its being. + +The flame rolled on. It threw its long arms through the million +interstices of the loose piles of wood, it penetrated every where with +its subtle, far-reaching power, till within the ship the glow broadened +and widened, the central heart of fire enlarged its borders, and the +floods of flame that flowed from it rushed with consuming fury through +the whole body of the ship. + +Glowing with bright lustre, increasing in that brightness every moment, +leaping up as it consumed and flashing vividly as it leaped up. A +thousand tongues of flame streamed upward through the crannies of the +gaping deck, and between the wide orifices of the planks and timbers +the dazzling flames gleamed; a thousand resistless arms seemed extended +forward to grasp the fabric now completely at its mercy, and the hot +breath of the fire shriveled up all in its path before yet its hands +were laid upon it. + +And fast and furious, with eager advance, the flames rushed on devouring +everything. Through the hatchway, around which the fiercest fires +gathered, the stream of flame rose impetuously on high, in a straight +upward torrent, hurling up a vast pyramid of fire to the ebon skies, a +[Greek: phlogos migan pogona] which, like that which once illumed the +Slavonic strait with the signal-fire first caught from burning Troy, +here threw its radiance far over the deep. + +While the lighter wood lasted the flame was in the ascendant, and +nobly it did its work. Whatever could be done by bright radiance and +far-penetrating lustre was done here. If that ship which had passed +held any men on board capable of feeling a human interest in the visible +signs of calamity at sea, they would be able to read in this flame that +there was disaster somewhere upon these waters, and if they had human +hearts they would turn to see if there was not some suffering which they +might relieve. + +But the lighter and the dryer wood was at last consumed, and now there +remained that which Brandon had never touched, the dense masses which +still lay piled where they had been placed eighteen years before. Upon +these the fire now marched. But already the long days and weeks of +scorching sun and fierce wind had not been without their effects, and +the dampness had been subdued. Besides, the fire that advanced upon them +had already gained immense advantage; for one half of the brig was +one glowing mass of heat, which sent forth its consuming forces, and +withered up, and blighted, and annihilated all around. The close-bound +and close-packed masses of staves and boards received the resistless +embrace of the fire, and where they did not flame they still gave forth +none the less a blazeless glow. + +Now from the burning vessel the flame arose no more; but in its +place there appeared that which sent forth as vivid a gleam, and as +far-flashing a light. The fire had full sway, though it gave forth no +blaze, and, while it gleamed but little, still it devoured. From the +sides of the ship the planks, blasted by the intense heat and by the +outburst of the flames, had sprung away, and now for nearly all the +length of the vessel the timbers were exposed without any covering. +Between these flashed forth the gleam of the fire inside, which now in +one pure mass glowed with dazzling brightness and intense heat. + +But the wood inside, damp as it was, and solid in its fibre, did not +allow a very swift progress to the fire. It burned, but it burned +slowly. It glowed like the charcoal of a furnace from behind its wooden +bars. + +The massive timbers of mahogany wood yielded slowly and stubbornly +to the conflagration. They stood up like iron bars long after all the +interior was one glowing mass. But, though they yielded slowly, still +they had to yield with the passage of hours to the progress of the fire. +And so it came to pass that at length the strong sides, sapped by +the steady and resistless assault, surrendered. One by one the stout +timbers, now wasted and weakened, gave way and sank down into the fervid +mass beneath. At last the whole centre was one accumulation of glowing +ashes, and all that remained were the bow, covered with sand, and the +stern, with the quarter-deck. + +The fire spread in both directions. The stern yielded first. Here the +strong deck sustained for a time the onset of the fire that had consumed +every thing beneath, but at last it sunk in; the timbers of the sides +followed next, and all had gone. With the bow there was a longer and +a harder struggle. The fire had penetrated far into that part of the +vessel; the flames smouldered there, but the conflagration went on, and +smoke and blue flames issued from every part of that sandy mound, which, +fiercely assailed by the heat, gave way in every direction, broke into +a million crevices, and in places melted and ran together in a glowing +molten heap. Here the fires burned longer, and here they lived and +gleamed until morning. + +Long before morning Brandon had fallen asleep. He had stood first near +the burning wreck. Then the heat forced him to move away, and he had +gone to a ridge of sand, where this peninsula joined the island. There +he sat down, watching the conflagration for a long time. There the light +flashed, and if that ship for whom he was signaling had noticed this +sign, and had examined the island, his figure could be seen to any one +that chose to examine. + +But hours passed on. He strained his eyes through the gloom in the +direction in which the ship had vanished to see if there were any sign +there. None appeared. The progress of the fire was slow. It went on +burning and glowing with wonderful energy all through the night, till at +last, not long before dawn, the stern fell in, and nothing now was left +but the sand-mound that covered the bows, which, burning beneath, gave +forth smoke and fire. + +Then, exhausted by fatigue, he sank down on the sand and fell into a +sound sleep. + +In the midst of thronging dreams, from the depths of that imaginary land +where his weary spirit wandered in sleep, he was suddenly roused. A hand +was laid on his shoulder, which shook him roughly, and a hoarse voice +shouted in his ear, "Mess-mate! Halloo, mess-mate! Wake up!" + +Brandon started up and gazed with wild, astonished eyes around. It was +day. The sun was two or three hours above the horizon. He was surrounded +by half a dozen seamen, who were regarding him with wondering but kindly +eyes. The one who spoke appeared to be their leader. He held a spy-glass +in his hand. He was a sturdy, thick-set man of about fifty, whose +grizzled hair, weather-beaten face, groggy nose, and whiskers, coming +all round under his chin, gave him the air of old Benbow as he appears +on the stage--"a reg'lar old salt," "sea-dog," or whatever other name +the popular taste loves to apply to the British tar. + +"Hard luck here, mess-mate," said this man, with a smile. "But you're +all right now. Come! Cheer up! Won't you take a drink?" And he held out +a brandy-flask. + +Brandon rose mechanically in a kind of maze, not yet understanding his +good fortune, not yet knowing whether he was alive or dead. He took the +flask and raised it to his lips. The inspiriting draught gave him new +life. He looked earnestly at the Captain as he handed it back, and then +seized both his hands. + +"God Almighty bless you for this, noble friend, whoever you are! But how +and when did you get here? Who are you? Did you not see my signal on the +rock yesterday--?" + +"One question at a time, mess-mate," said the other, laughingly. "I'm +Captain Corbet, of the ship _Falcon_, bound from Sydney to London, and +these are some of my men. We saw this light last night about midnight, +right on our weather-bow, and came up to see what it was. We found shoal +water, and kept off till morning. There's the _Falcon_, Sir." + +The Captain waved his hand proudly to where a large, handsome ship lay, +about seven miles away to the south. + +"On your bow? Did you see the fire _ahead_ of you?" asked Brandon, who +now began to comprehend the situation. + +"Yes." + +"Then you didn't pass me toward the north yesterday?" + +"No; never was near this place before this morning." + +"It must have been some other ship, then," said Brandon, musingly. + +"But how did you get here, and how long have you been here?" + +Brandon had long since decided on the part he was to play. His story was +all ready. + +"My name is Edward Wheeler. I came out supercargo in the brig _Argo_, +with a cargo of hogshead staves and box shooks from London to Manilla. +On the 16th of September last we encountered a tremendous storm and +struck on this sand-bank. It is not down on any of the charts. The +vessel stuck hard and fast, and the sea made a clean breach over us. +The captain and crew put out the boat, and tried to get away, but were +swamped and drowned. I staid by the wreck till morning. The vessel stood +the storm well, for she had a solid cargo, was strongly built, and the +sand formed rapidly all about her. The storm lasted for several days, +and by the end of that time a shoal had formed. Several storms have +occurred since, and have heaped the sand all over her. I have lived here +ever since in great misery. Yesterday a vessel passed, and I put up a +signal on the rock over there, which she did not notice. In despair I +set fire to the brig, which was loaded with wood and burned easily. I +watched till morning, and then fell asleep. You found me so. That's all +I have to say." + +On hearing this story nothing could exceed the kindness and sympathy of +these honest-hearted seamen. The Captain insisted on his taking another +drink, apologized for having to carry him back to England, and finally +hurried him off to the boat. Before two hours Brandon stood on the deck +of the _Falcon_. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +THE MALAY PIRATE + +Two days had passed since Brandon's rescue. The light wind which had +brought up the _Falcon_ soon died out, and before the island had been +left far behind a calm succeeded, and there was nothing left but to +drift. + +A calm in other seas is stillness; here on the Indian Ocean it is +stagnation. The calmness is like Egyptian darkness. It may be felt. The +stagnation of the waters seems deep enough to destroy all life there. +The air is thick, oppressive, feverish; there is not a breath or a +murmur of wind; even the swell of ocean, which is never-ending, here +approaches as near as possible to an end. The ocean rolled but slightly, +but the light undulations gave a lazy, listless motion to the ship, the +span creaked monotonously, and the great sails napped idly in the air. + +At such a time the calm itself is sufficiently dreary, but now there +was something which made all things still more drear. For the calm was +attended by a thick fog; not a moist, drizzling fog like those of the +North Atlantic, but a sultry, dense, dry fog; a fog which gave greater +emphasis to the heat, and, instead of alleviating it, made it more +oppressive. + +It was so thick that it was not possible while standing at the wheel to +see the forecastle. Aloft, all the heavens were hidden in a canopy of +sickly gray; beneath, the sea showed the same color. Its glassy surface +exhibited not a ripple. A small space only surrounded the vessel, and +beyond all things were lost to view. + +The sailors were scattered about the ship in groups. Some had ascended +to the tops with a faint hope of finding more air; some were lying flat +on their faces on the forecastle; others had sought those places which +were under the sails where the occasional flap of the broad canvas sent +down a slight current of air. + +The Captain was standing on the quarter-deck, while Brandon was seated +on a stool near the wheel. He had been treated by the Captain with +unbounded hospitality, and supplied with every thing that he could wish. + +"The fact is," said the Captain, who had been conversing with Brandon, +"I don't like calms any where, still less calms with fogs, and least of +all, calms off these infernal islands." + +"Why?" + +"Because to the north'ard is the Strait of Sunda, and the Malay pirates +are always cruising about, often as far as this. Did you ever happen to +hear of Zangorri?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, all I can say is, if you hadn't been wrecked, you'd have probably +had your throat cut by that devil." + +"Can't any body catch him?" + +"They don't catch him at any rate. Whether they can or not is another +question." + +"Have you arms?" + +"Yes. I've got enough to give Zangorri a pleasanter reception than he +usually gets from a merchant-ship; and my lads are the boys that can use +them." + +"I wonder what has become of that other ship that passed me on the +island," said Brandon, after a pause. + +"She can't be very far away from us," replied the Captain, "and we may +come up with her before we get to the Cape." + +A silence followed. Suddenly the Captain's attention was arrested by +something. He raised his hand to his ear and listened very attentively. +"Do you hear that?" he asked, quickly. + +Brandon arose and walked to where the Captain was. Then both listened. +And over the sea there came unmistakable sounds. The regular movement of +oars! Oars out on the Indian Ocean! Yet the sound was unmistakable. + +"It must be some poor devils that have escaped from shipwreck," said the +Captain, half to himself. + +"Well, fire a gun." + +"No," said the Captain, cautiously, after a pause. "It may be somebody +else. Wait a bit." + +So they waited a little while. Suddenly there came a cry of human +voices--a volley of guns! Shrieks, yells of defiance, shouts of triumph, +howls of rage or of pain, all softened by the distance, and all in their +unison sounding appallingly as they were borne through the gloom of the +fog. + +Instantly every man in the ship bounded to his feet. They had not heard +the first sounds, but these they heard, and in that superstition which +is natural to the sailor, each man's first thought was that the noises +came from the sky, and so each looked with a stupefied countenance at +his neighbor. + +But the Captain did not share the common feeling. "I knew it!" he cried. +"I expected it, and blow my old eyes out if I don't catch 'em this +time!" + +"What?" cried Brandon. + +But the Captain did not hear. Instantly his whole demeanor was changed. +He sprang to the companion-way. He spoke but one word, not in a loud +voice, but in tones so stern, so startling, that every man in the ship +heard the word: + +"Zangorri!" + +All knew what it meant. It meant that the most blood-thirsty pirate of +these Eastern seas was attacking some ship behind that veil of fog. + +And what ship? This was the thought that came to Brandon. Could it +by any possibility be the one which passed by him when he strove so +earnestly to gain her attention! + +"Out with the long-boat! Load the carronade! Man the boat! Hurry up, +lads, for God's sake!" And the Captain dashed down into the cabin. In an +instant he was back again, buckling on a belt with a couple of pistols +in it, and calling to his men, "Don't shout, don't cheer, but hurry, for +God's sake!" + +And the men rushed about, some collecting arms, others laboring at the +boat. The _Falcon_ was well supplied with arms, as the Captain had said. +Three guns, any quantity of smaller arms, and a long Tom, formed her +armament, while the long-boat had a carronade in her bows. Thanks to the +snug and orderly arrangement of the ship, every thing was soon ready. +The long-boat was out and afloat. All the seamen except four were on +board, and the Captain went down last. + +"Now, pull away, lads!" he cried; "no talking," and he took the tiller +ropes. As he seated himself he looked toward the bows, and his eyes +encountered the calm face of Brandon. + +"What! you here?" he cried, with unmistakable delight. + +Brandon's reply consisted simply in drawing a revolver from his pocket. + +"You're a brick!" said the Captain. + +Not another word was spoken. The Captain steered the boat toward +the direction from which the sounds came. These grew louder every +moment--more menacing, and more terrible. + +The sailors put all their strength to the oars, and drove the great boat +through the water. To their impatience it seemed as though they would +never get there. Yet the place which they desired to reach was not +far away;--the sounds were now very near; and at length, as they drove +onward, the tall sides of a ship burst on their sight through the gloom. +By its side was a boat of the kind that is used by the Malays. On board +the ship a large number of savage figures were rushing about in mad +ferocity. + +In a moment the boat was seen. A shout rose from the Malays. A score of +them clambered swiftly down the ship's side to their boat, and a panic +seemed to seize all the rest, who stood looking around irresolutely for +some way of escape. + +The boatswain was in the bows of the long-boat and as the Malays crowded +into their craft he took aim with the carronade and fired. The explosion +thundered through the air. A terrific shriek followed. The next instant +the Malay boat, filled with writhing dusky figures, went down beneath +the waters. + +The long-boat immediately after touched the side of the ship. Brandon +grasped a rope with his left hand, and, holding his revolver in his +right, leaped upward. A Malay with uplifted knife struck at him. Bang! +went the revolver and the Malay fell dead. The next instant Brandon was +on board, followed by all the sailors who sprang upward and clambered +into the vessel before the Malays could rally from the first shock of +surprise. + +But the panic was arrested by a man who bounded upon deck through the +hatchway. Roused by the noise of the gun, he had hurried up and reached +the deck just as the sailors arrived. In fierce, stern words he shouted +to his men, and the Malays gathered new courage from his words. There +were about fifty of these, and not more than thirty English sailors; but +the former had carelessly dropped their arms about, and most of their +pieces were unloaded; the latter, therefore, had it all their own way. + +The first thing that they did was to pour a volley into the crowd of +Malays, as they stood trying to face their new enemy. The next moment +the sailors rushed upon them, some with cutlasses, some with pistols, +and some with clubbed muskets. + +The Malays resisted desperately. Some fought with their creeses, others +snatched up muskets and used them vigorously, others, unarmed, flung +themselves upon their assailants, biting and tearing like wild beasts. + +In the midst of the scene stood the chief, wielding a clubbed musket. He +was a man of short stature, broad chest, and great muscular power. Three +or four of the sailors had already been knocked down beneath his blows. + +"Down with him," yelled the Captain. "It's Zangorri!" + +A venomous smile passed over the dark face of the Malay. Then he shouted +to his men and in an instant they rushed to the quarter-deck and took +up a position there. A few of them obtained some more muskets that lay +about. + +The Captain shouted to his men, who were pursuing the Malays, to load +once more. They did so, poured in a volley, and then rushed to the +quarter-deck. Now a fiercer fight took place. The Captain with his +pistol shot one man dead the next instant he was knocked down. The +boatswain was grappled by two powerful men. The rest of the sailors were +driving all before them. + +Meanwhile Brandon had been in the very centre of the fight. With his +revolver in his left hand he held a cutlass in his right, and every blow +that he gave told. He had sought all through the struggle to reach the +spot where Zangorri stood, but had hitherto been unsuccessful. At the +retreat which the Malays made he hastily loaded three of the chambers of +his revolver which he had emptied into the hearts of three Malays, and +sprang upon the quarter-deck first. The man who struck down the Captain +fell dead from Brandon's pistol, just as he stooped to plunge his knife +into the heart of the prostrate man. Another shot sent over one of the +boatswain's assailants, and the other assailant was kicked up into the +air and overboard by the boatswain himself. + +After this Brandon had no more trouble to get at Zangorri, for the Malay +chief with a howl of fury called on his men, and sprang at him. Two +quick flashes, two sharp reports, and down went two of them. Zangorri +grasped Brandon's hand, and raised his knife; the next instant Brandon +had shifted his pistol to his other hand; he fired. Zangorri's arm fell +by his side, broken, and the knife rang on the ship's deck. + +Brandon bounded at his throat. He wound his arms around him, and with a +tremendous jerk hurled Zangorri to the deck, and held him there. + +A cry of terror and dismay arose from the Malays as they saw their chief +fall. The sailors shouted; there was no further fighting: some of the +pirates were killed, others leaped overboard and tried to swim away. The +sailors, in their fury, shot at these wretches as they swam. The cruelty +of Zangorri had stimulated such a thirst for vengeance that none thought +of giving quarter. Out of all the Malays the only one alive was Zangorri +himself, who now lay gasping with a mighty hand on his throat. + +At last, as his struggles grew feebler, Brandon relaxed his grasp. Some +of the sailors came with uplifted knives to put an end to Zangorri. + +"Back," cried Brandon, fiercely. "Don't touch him. He's mine!" + +"He must die." + +"That's for me to say," cried Brandon in a stern voice that forbade +reply. In fact, the sailors seemed to feel that he had the best claim +here, since he had not only captured Zangorri with his own hands, but +had borne the chief share in the fight. + +"Englishman," said a voice. "I thank you." + +Brandon started. + +It was Zangorri who had spoken; and in very fair English too. + +"Do you speak English?" was all that he could say in his surprise. + +"I ought to. I've seen enough of them," growled the other. + +"You scoundrel!" cried Brandon, "you have nothing to thank me for. You +must die a worse death." + +"Ah," sneered Zangorri. "Well. It's about time. But my death will not +pay for the hundreds of English lives that I have taken. I thank you +though, for you will give me time yet to tell the Englishmen how I hate +them." + +And the expression of hate that gleamed from the eyes of the Malay was +appalling. + +"Why do you hate them?" asked Brandon, whose curiosity was excited. + +"My brother's blood was shed by them, and a Malay never forgives. Yet I +have never found the man I sought. If I had found him I would not have +killed any more." + +"The man--what man?" + +"The one whom I have sought for fifteen years through all these seas," +said the other, hoarsely. + +"What is his name?" + +"I will not speak it. I had it carved on my creese which hangs around my +neck." + +Brandon thrust his hand into the bosom of the Malay where he saw a cord +which passed around his neck. He drew forth a creese, and holding it up +saw this name cut upon the handle: "JOHN POTTS." + +The change that came over the severe, impassive face of Brandon was so +extraordinary that even Zangorri in his pain and fury saw it. He uttered +an exclamation. The brow of Brandon grew as black as night, his nostrils +quivered, his eyes seemed to blaze with a terrific lustre, and a slight +foam spread itself over his quivering lips. But he commanded himself by +a violent effort. + +He looked all around. The sailors were busy with the Captain, who still +lay senseless. No one observed him. He turned to Zangorri. + +"This shall be mine," said he, and he threw the cord around his own +neck, and put the creese under his waistcoat. But the sharp eye of the +Malay had been watching him, and as he raised his arm carelessly to +put the weapon where he desired, he thoughtlessly loosed his hold. +That instant Zangorri took advantage of it. By a tremendous effort he +disengaged himself and bounded to his feet. The next instant he was at +the taffrail. One hasty glance all around showed him all that he wished +to see. Another moment and he was beneath the water. + +Brandon had been taken unawares, and the Malay was in the water before +he could think. But he drew his revolver, in which there yet remained +two shots, and, stepping to the taffrail, watched for Zangorri to +reappear. + +During the fight a change had come over the scene. The fog had begun to +be dissipated and a wider horizon appeared. As Brandon looked he saw two +vessels upon the smooth surface of the sea. One was the _Falcon_. The +other was a large Malay proa. On the decks of this last was a crowd of +men, perhaps about fifty in number, who stood looking toward the ship +where the fight had been. The sweeps were out, and they were preparing +to move away. But the escape of Zangorri had aroused them, and they were +evidently waiting to see the result. That result lay altogether at the +disposal of the man with the revolver, who stood at the stern from which +Zangorri had leaped. + +And now Zangorri's head appeared above the waves, while he took a long +breath ere he plunged again. The revolver covered him. In a moment a +bullet could have plunged into his brain. + +But Brandon did not fire. He could not. It was too cold-blooded. True, +Zangorri was stained with countless crimes; but all his crimes at that +moment were forgotten: he did not appear as Zangorri the merciless +pirate, but simply as a wounded wretch, trying to escape from death. +That death Brandon could not deal him. + +The sailors were still intent upon the Captain, whose state was +critical, and Brandon alone watched the Malay. Soon he saw those on +board the proa send down a boat and row quickly toward him. They reached +him, dragged him on board, and then rowed back. + +Brandon turned away. As yet no one had been in the cabin. He hurried +thither to see if perchance any one was there who might be saved. + +He entered the cabin. The first look which he gave disclosed a sight +which was enough to chill the blood of the stoutest heart that ever +beat. + +All around the cabin lay human bodies distorted by the agonies of +death, twisted and twined in different attitudes, and still lying in the +position in which death had found them. + +One, whose appearance showed him to be the captain, lay grasping the +hair of a Malay, with his sword through his enemy's heart, while a knife +still remained buried in his own. Another lay with his head cut open; +another with his face torn by the explosion of a gun. There were four +whites here and about ten Malays, all dead. But the fourth white was a +woman, who lay dead in front of a door that led to an inner cabin, and +which was now closed. The woman appeared to be about fifty years of age, +her venerable gray hair was stained with blood, and her hand clutched +the arm of a Malay who lay dead by her side. + +While Brandon stood looking at this sight he became aware of a movement +in a corner of the cabin where there were five or six bodies heaped +together. He hurried over to the place, and, pulling away the bodies of +several Malays, found at length a Hindu of large stature, in whom life +was by no means extinct, for he was pushing with hands and feet and +making faint efforts to rise. He had been wounded in many places, and +was now quite unconscious. + +Brandon dragged away all the bodies, laid him in as easy a posture as +possible, and then rushed up to the deck for some water. Returning he +dashed it over the Hindu, and bound up one or two wounds which seemed +most dangerous. + +His care soon brought the Hindu to consciousness. + +The man opened his eyes, looked upon Brandon first with astonishment, +then with speechless gratitude, and clasping his hand moaned faintly, in +broken English. + +"Bless de Lor! Sahib!" + +Brandon hurried up on deck and calling some of the sailors had the +Hindu conveyed there. All crowded around him to ask him questions, and +gradually found out about the attack of the pirates. The ship had been +becalmed the day before, and the Malay proa was in sight, evidently with +evil intentions. They had kept a good watch, and when the fog came had +some hope of escape. But the Malay boats had sought them through the +fog, and had found them. They had resisted well, but were overpowered +by numbers. The Hindu had been cook of the ship, and had fought till the +last by the side of his captain. + +Without waiting to hear the Hindu's story Brandon went back to the +cabin. The door that opened into the inner cabin was shut. He tried +it. It was locked. He looked into the keyhole. It was locked from the +inside. + +[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG HERSELF ON HER KNEES IN A TRANSPORT OF +GRATITUDE."] "Is any one there?" he asked. + +A cry of surprise was the sole answer. + +"You are safe. We are friends. Open!" cried Brandon. + +Then came the sound of light footsteps, the key was turned, the door +slided back, and there appeared before the astonished eyes of Brandon a +young girl, who, the moment that she saw him, flung herself on her knees +in a transport of gratitude and raised her face to Heaven, while her +lips uttered inaudible words of thanksgiving. + +She was quite a young girl, with a delicate, slender frame, and features +of extreme loveliness. Her complexion was singularly colorless. Her eyes +were large, dark, and luminous. Her hair fell in rich masses over her +shoulders. In one hand she held a knife, to which she clung with a +death-like tenacity. + +"Poor child!" murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration. +"It is but little that you could do with that knife." + +She looked up at him as she knelt, then looked at the keen glittering +steel, and, with a solemnity of accent which showed how deeply she was +in earnest, murmured, half to herself, + +"It could at least have saved me!" + +Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give at +seeing the spirit or prowess of some idolized son. + +"There is no need," he said, with a voice of deep feeling, "there is +no need of that now. You are saved. You are avenged. Come with me." The +girl rose. "But wait," said Brandon, and he looked at her earnestly and +most pityingly. "There are things here which you should not see. Will +you shut your eyes and let me lead you?" + +"I can bear it," said the girl. "I will not shut my eyes." + +"You must," said Brandon, firmly, but still pityingly, for he thought of +that venerable woman who lay in blood outside the door. The girl +looked at him and seemed at first as though about to refuse. There was +something in his face so full of compassion, and entreaty, and calm +control, that she consented. She closed her eyes and held out her hand. +Brandon took it and led her through the place of horror and up to the +deck. + +Her appearance was greeted with a cry of joy from all the sailors. The +girl looked around. She saw the Malays lying dead upon the deck. She saw +the ship that had rescued, and the proa that had terrified her. But she +saw no familiar face. + +She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked: + +"Where are they all?" + +"Gone," said Brandon. + +"What! All?" gasped the girl. + +"All--except yourself and the cook." + +She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she +whispered: "And my nurse--?" + +Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward. +The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had not +Brandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and, +staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly. + +All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Who +does not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, and +always the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy? + +So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow. +The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet looking +around upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with every +throb of his heart and every breath of the air. + +But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest the +hatchway. + +"The ship is sinking!" + +Every one started. Yes, the ship was sinking. No one had noticed it; but +the water was already within a few feet of the top. No doubt Zangorri +had been scuttling her when he rushed out of the hold at the noise of +the attack. + +There was nothing left but to hasten away. There was time to save +nothing. The bodies of the dead had to be left with the ship for their +tomb. In a short time they had all hurried into the boat and were +pulling away. But not too soon. For scarcely had they pulled away half +a dozen boat-lengths from the ship than the water, which had been rising +higher and higher, more rapidly every moment, rushed madly with a final +onset to secure its prey; and with a groan like that of some living +thing the ship went down. + +A yell came from over the water. It rose from the Malay proa, which was +moving away as fast as the long sweeps could carry her. But the dead +were not revenged only. They were remembered. Not long after reaching +the _Falcon_ the sailors were summoned to the side which looked toward +the spot where the ship had sunk, and the solemn voice of Brandon read +the burial-service of the Church. + +And as he read that service he understood the fate which he had escaped +when the ship passed Coffin Island without noticing his signal. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +BEATRICE. + +It was natural that a young girl who had gone through so fearful an +ordeal should for some time feel its effects. Her situation excited the +warmest sympathy of all on board the ship; and her appearance was such +as might inspire a chivalrous respect in the hearts of those rough but +kindly and sensitive sailors who had taken part in her rescue. + +Her whole appearance marked her as one of no common order. There was +about her an air of aristocratic grace which inspired involuntary +respect; an elegance of manner and complete self-possession which marked +perfect breeding. Added to this, her face had something which is greater +even than beauty--or at least something without which beauty itself is +feeble--namely, character and expression. Her soul spoke out in every +lineament of her noble features, and threw around her the charm of +spiritual exaltation. + +To such a charm as this Brandon did not seem indifferent. His usual +self-abstraction seemed to desert him for a time. The part that he had +taken in her rescue of itself formed a tie between them; but there was +another bond in the fact that he alone of all on board could associate +with her on equal terms, as a high-bred gentleman with a high-bred lady. + +The Hindu had at once found occupation, for Brandon, who had seen the +stuff that was in him, offered to take him for his servant. He said that +his name was Asgeelo, but he was commonly called Cato, and preferred +that name to any other. He regarded Brandon as his saviour, with all the +superstition which Hindus can feel, and looked up to this saviour as a +superior being. The offer of employment was eagerly accepted, and Cato +at once entered upon the few duties which his situation could require on +ship-board. + +Meanwhile the young lady remained unknown. At first she spent the +greater part of her time in her room, and only came out at meal-times, +when the sadness of her face prevented any thing except the most distant +and respectful courtesy. No one knew her name, and no one asked it. Cato +was ignorant of it. She and the old nurse had only been known to him as +the young missis and the old missis. + +Brandon, roused from his indifference, did all in his power to mitigate +the gloom of this fair young creature, whom fate had thrown in his way. +He found that his attentions were not unacceptable. At length she came +out more frequently, and they became companions on the quarter-deck. + +Brandon was touched by the exhibition which she had made of her +gratitude to himself. She persisted in regarding him alone as the one +to whom she owed her life, and apologized to him for her selfishness in +giving way so greatly to her grief. After a time she ventured to tell +him the story of the voyage which she had been making. She was on her +way from China to England. Her father lived in England, but she had +passed her life in Hong-Kong, having been brought up there by the +old nurse, who had accompanied her on her voyage until that fearful +calamity. + +She told him at different times that her father was a merchant who +had business all over the world, and that he had of late taken up his +station in his own home and sent for her. + +Of her father she did not say much, and did not seem to know much. +She had never seen him. She had been in Hong-Kong ever since she could +remember. She believed, however, that she was born in England, but did +not know for certain. Her nurse had not known her till she had gone to +China. + +It was certainly a curious life, but quite natural, when a busy merchant +devotes all his thoughts to business, and but little attention to his +family. She had no mother, but thought she must have died in India. Yet +she was not sure. Of all this, however, she expected to hear when she +reached home and met her father. + +By the time that she had been a month on board Brandon knew much of +the events of her simple life. He saw the strange mixture of fear and +longing with which she looked forward to a meeting with her father. He +learned that she had a brother, also, whom she had never seen, for +her father kept his son with himself. He could not help looking with +inexpressible pity on one so lovely, yet so neglected. + +Otherwise, as far as mere money was concerned, she had never suffered. +Her accomplishments were numerous. She was passionately fond of music, +and was familiar with all the classic compositions. Her voice was finely +trained, for she had enjoyed the advantage of the instructions of an +Italian maestro, who had been banished, and had gone out to Hong-Kong as +band-master in the Twentieth Regiment. She could speak French fluently, +and had read almost every thing. + +Now after finding out all this Brandon had not found out her name. +Embarrassments arose sometimes, which she could not help noticing, from +this very cause, and yet she said nothing about it. Brandon did not like +to ask her abruptly, since he saw that she did not respond to his hints. +So he conjectured and wondered. He thought that her name must be of the +lordliest kind, and that she for some reason wished to keep it a secret: +perhaps she was noble, and did not like to tell that name which had been +stained by the occupations of trade. All this Brandon thought. + +Yet as he thought this, he was not insensible to the music of her +soft, low voice, the liquid tenderness of her eye, and the charm of +her manner. She seemed at once to confide herself to him--to own the +superiority of his nature and seek shelter in it. Circumstances threw +them exclusively into one another's way, and they found each other so +congenial that they took advantage of circumstances to the utmost. + +There were others as well as Brandon who found it awkward not to have +any name by which to address her, and chief of these was the good +Captain. After calling her Ma'am and Miss indifferently for about a +month he at last determined to ask her directly; so, one day at the +dinner-table, he said: + +"I most humbly beg your pardon, ma'am; but I do not know your name, and +have never had a chance to find it out. If it's no offense, perhaps you +would be so good as to tell it?" + +The young lady thus addressed flushed crimson, then looked at Brandon, +who was gazing fixedly on his plate, and with visible embarrassment +said, very softly, "Beatrice." + +"B. A. Treachy," said the Captain. "Ah! I hope, Miss Treachy, you will +pardon me; but I really found it so everlasting confusing." + +A faint smile crossed the lips of Brandon. But Beatrice did not smile. +She looked a little frightened, and then said: + +"Oh, that is only my Christian name!" + +"Christian name!" said the Captain. "How can that be a Christian name?" + +"My surname is--" She hesitated, and then, with an effort, pronounced +the word "Potts." + +"'Potts!'" said the Captain, quickly, and with evident surprise. +"Oh--well, I hope you will excuse me." + +But the face of Beatrice turned to an ashen hue as she marked the effect +which the mention of that name had produced on Brandon. He had been +looking at his plate like one involved in thought. As he heard the name +his head fell forward, and he caught at the table to steady himself. He +then rose abruptly with a cloud upon his brow, his lips firmly pressed +together, and his whole face seemingly transformed, and hurried from the +cabin. + +She did not see him again for a week. He pleaded illness, shut himself +in his state-room, and was seen by no one but Cato. + +Beatrice could not help associating this change in Brandon with the +knowledge of her name. That name was hateful to herself. A fastidious +taste had prevented her from volunteering to tell it; and as no one +asked her directly it had not been known. And now, since she had told +it, this was the result. + +For Brandon's conduct she could imagine only one cause. He had felt +shocked at such a plebeian name. + +The fact that she herself hated her name, and saw keenly how +ridiculously it sounded after such a name as Beatrice, only made her +feel the more indignant with Brandon. "His own name," she thought, +bitterly, "is plebeian--not so bad as mine, it is true, yet still it is +plebeian. Why should he feel so shocked at mine?" Of course, she knew +him only as "_Mr. Wheeler_." "Perhaps he has imagined that I had +some grand name, and, learning my true one, has lost his illusion. He +formerly esteemed me. He now despises me." + +Beatrice was cut to the heart; but she was too proud to show any feeling +whatever. She frequented the quarter-deck as before; though now she had +no companion except, at turns, the good-natured Captain and the mate. +The longer Brandon avoided her the more indignant she felt. Her outraged +pride made sadness impossible. + +Brandon remained in his state-room for about two weeks altogether. When +at length he made his appearance on the quarter-deck he found Beatrice +there, who greeted him with a distant bow. + +There was a sadness in his face as he approached and took a seat near +her which at once disarmed her, drove away all indignation, and aroused +pity. + +"You have been sick," she said, kindly, and with some emotion. + +"Yes," said Brandon, in a low voice, "but now that I am able to go about +again my first act is to apologize to you for my rudeness in quitting +the table so abruptly as to make it seem like a personal insult to you. +Now I hope you will believe me when I say that an insult to you from me +is impossible. Something like a spasm passed over my nervous system, and +I had to hurry to my room." + +"I confess," said Beatrice, frankly, "that I thought your sudden +departure had something to do with the conversation about me. I am very +sorry indeed that I did you such a wrong; I might have known you better. +Will you forgive me?" + +Brandon smiled, faintly. "You are the one who must forgive." + +"But I hate my name so," burst out Beatrice. + +Brandon said nothing. + +"Don't you? Now confess." + +"How can I--" he began. + +"You do, you do!" she cried, vehemently; "but I don't care--for I hate +it." + +Brandon looked at her with a sad, weary smile, and said nothing. "You +are sick," she said; "I am thoughtless. I see that my name, in some way +or other, recalls painful thoughts. How wretched it is for me to give +pain to others!" + +Brandon looked at her appealingly, and said, "You give pain? Believe me! +believe me! there is nothing but happiness where you are." + +At this Beatrice looked confused and changed the conversation. There +seemed after this to be a mutual understanding between the two to avoid +the subject of her name, and although it was a constant mortification +to Beatrice, yet she believed that on his part there was no contempt for +the name, but something very different, something associated with better +memories. + +They now resumed their old walks and conversations. Every day bound them +more closely to one another, and each took it for granted that the other +would be the constant companion of every hour in the day. + +Both had lived unusual lives. Beatrice had much to say about her +Hong-Kong life, the Chinese, the British officers, and the festivities +of garrison life. Brandon had lived for years in Australia, and was +familiar with all the round of events which may be met with in that +country. He had been born in England, and had lived there, as has +already been mentioned, till he was almost a man, so that he had much +to say about that mother-land concerning which Beatrice felt such +curiosity. Thus they settled down again naturally and inevitably into +constant association with each other. + +Whatever may have been the thoughts of Brandon during the fortnight +of his seclusion, or whatever may have been the conclusion to which he +came, he carefully refrained from the most remote hint at the home or +the prospects of Beatrice. He found her on the seas, and he was +content to take her as she was. Her name was a common one. She might +be connected with his enemy, or she might not. For his part, he did not +wish to know. + +Beatrice also showed equal care in avoiding the subject. The effect +which had been produced by the mention of her name was still remembered, +and, whatever the cause may have been, both this and her own strong +dislike to it prevented her from ever making any allusion either to her +father or to any one of her family. She had no scruples, however, +about talking of her Hong-Kong life, in which one person seemed to have +figured most prominently--a man who had lived there for years, and given +her instruction in music. He was an Italian, of whom she knew nothing +whatever but his name, with the exception of the fact that he had been +unfortunate in Europe, and had come out to Hong-Kong as bandmaster of +the Twentieth Regiment. His name was Paolo Langhetti. + +"Do you like music?" asked Brandon, abruptly. + +"Above all things." said Beatrice, with an intensity of emphasis which +spoke of deep feeling. + +"Do you play?" + +"Somewhat." + +"Do you sing?" + +"A little. I was considered a good singer in Hong-Kong; but that is +nothing. I sang in the Cathedral. Langhetti was kind enough to praise +me; but then he was so fond of me that whatever I did was right." + +Brandon was silent for a little while. "Langhetti was fond of you?" he +repeated, interrogatively, and in a voice of singular sweetness. + +"Very," returned Beatrice, musingly. "He always called me +'Bice'--sometimes 'Bicetta,' 'Bicinola,' 'Bicina;' it was his pretty +Italian way. But oh, if you could hear him play! He could make the +violin speak like a human voice. He used to think in music. He seemed to +me to be hardly human sometimes." + +"And he loved to hear you sing?" said Brandon, in the same voice. + +"He used to praise me," said Beatrice, meekly. "His praise used to +gratify, but it did not deceive me. I am not conceited, Mr. Wheeler." + +"Would you sing for me?" asked Brandon, in accents almost of entreaty, +looking at her with an imploring expression. + +Beatrice's head fell. "Not now--not yet--not here," she murmured, with +a motion of her hand. "Wait till we pass beyond this ocean. It seems +haunted." + +Brandon understood her tone and gesture. + +But the weeks passed, and the months, and they went over the seas, +touching at Mauritius, and afterward at Cape Town, till finally they +entered the Atlantic Ocean, and sailed North. During all this time their +association was close and continuous. In her presence Brandon softened; +the sternness of his features relaxed, and the great purpose of his life +grew gradually fainter. + +One evening, after they had entered the Atlantic Ocean, they were +standing by the stern of the ship looking at the waters, when Brandon +repeated his request. + +"Would you be willing to sing now?" he asked, gently, and in the same +tone of entreaty which he had used before. + +Beatrice looked at him for a moment without speaking. Then she raised +her face and looked up at the sky, with a deep abstraction in her +eyes, as though in thought. Her face, usually colorless, now, in the +moonlight, looked like marble; her dark hair hung in peculiar folds over +her brow--an arrangement which was antique in its style, and gave +her the look of a statue of one of the Muses. Her straight, Grecian +features, large eyes, thin lips, and well-rounded chin--all had the same +classic air, and Brandon, as he looked at her, wondered if she knew how +fair she was. She stood for a moment in silence, and then began. It was +a marvelous and a memorable epoch in Brandon's life. The scene around +added its inspiration to the voice of the singer. The ocean spread afar +away before them till the verge of the horizon seemed to blend sea and +sky together. Overhead the dim sky hung, dotted with innumerable stars, +prominent among which, not far above the horizon, gleamed that glorious +constellation, the Southern Cross. Beatrice, who hesitated for a moment +as if to decide upon her song, at last caught her idea from this +scene around her, and began one of the most magnificent of Italian +compositions: + + "I cieli immensi narrano + Del grand' Iddio la gloria." + +[Illustration: "SHE GAVE HERSELF ENTIRELY UP TO THE JOY OF SONG."] + +Her first notes poured forth with a sweetness and fullness that arrested +the attention of all on board the ship. It was the first time she had +sung, as she afterward said, since Langhetti had left Hong-Kong, and +she gave herself entirely up to the joy of song. Her voice, long silent, +instead of having been injured by the sorrow through which she had +passed, was pure, full, marvelous, and thrilling. A glow like some +divine inspiration passed over the marble beauty of her classic +features; her eyes themselves seemed to speak of all that glory of which +she sang, as the sacred fire of genius flashed from them. + +At those wonderful notes, so generous and so penetrating with their +sublime meaning, all on board the ship looked and listened with +amazement. The hands of the steersman held the wheel listlessly. +Brandon's own soul was filled with the fullest effects. He stood +watching her figure, with its inspired lineaments, and thought of the +fabled prodigies of music spoken of in ancient story. He thought of +Orpheus hushing all animated nature to calm by the magic of his song. +At last all thoughts of his own left him, and nothing remained but that +which the song of Beatrice swept over his spirit. + +But Beatrice saw nothing and heard nothing except the scene before +her, with its grand inspiration and her own utterance of its praise. +Brandon's own soul was more and more overcome; the divine voice thrilled +over his heart; he shuddered and uttered a low sigh of rapture. + +"My God!" he exclaimed as she ended; "I never before heard any thing +like this. I never dreamed of such a thing. Is there on earth another +such a voice as yours? Will I ever again hear any thing like it? Your +song is like a voice from those heavens of which you sing. It is a new +revelation." + +He poured forth these words with passionate impetuosity. Beatrice +smiled. + +"Langhetti used to praise me," she simply rejoined. + +"You terrify me," said he. + +"Why?" asked Beatrice, in wonder. + +"Because your song works upon me like a spell, and all my soul sinks +away, and all my will is weakened to nothingness." + +Beatrice looked at him with a mournful smile. "Then you have the true +passion for music," she said, "if this be so. For my part it is the joy +of my life, and I hope to give up all my life to it." + +"Do you expect to see Langhetti when you reach England?" asked Brandon, +abruptly. + +"I hope so," said she, musingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +THE IMPROVISATORE. + +The character of Beatrice unfolded more and more every day, and every +new development excited the wonder of Brandon. + +She said once that music was to her like the breath of life, and indeed +it seemed to be; for now, since Brandon had witnessed her powers, +he noticed how all her thoughts took a coloring from this. What most +surprised him was her profound acquirements in the more difficult +branches of the art. It was not merely the case of a great natural gift +of voice. Her whole soul seemed imbued with those subtle influences +which music can most of all bestow. Her whole life seemed to have been +passed in one long intercourse with the greatest works of the greatest +masters. All their works were perfectly well known to her. A marvelous +memory enabled her to have their choicest productions at command; +and Brandon, who in the early part of his life had received a careful +musical education, knew enough about it to estimate rightly the full +extent of the genius of his companion, and to be astonished thereat. + +Her mind was also full of stories about the lives, acts, and words of +the great masters. For her they formed the only world with which she +cared to be acquainted, and the only heroes whom she had power to +admire. All this flowed from one profound central feeling--namely, a +deep and all-absorbing love of this most divine art. To her it was +more than art. It was a new faculty to him who possessed it. It was the +highest power of utterance--such utterance as belongs to the angels; +such utterance as, when possessed by man, raises him almost to an +equality with them. + +Brandon found out every day some new power in her genius. Now her voice +was unloosed from the bonds which she had placed upon it. She sang, she +said, because it was better than talking. Words were weak--song was +all expression. Nor was it enough for her to take the compositions of +others. Those were infinitely better, she said, than any thing which +she could produce; but each one must have his own native expression; +and there were times when she had to sing from herself. To Brandon +this seemed the most amazing of her powers. In Italy the power of +improvisation is not uncommon, and Englishmen generally imagine that +this is on account of some peculiar quality of the Italian language. +This is not the case. One can improvise in any language; and Brandon +found that Beatrice could do this with the English. + +"It is not wonderful," said she, in answer to his expression of +astonishment, "it is not even difficult. There is an art in doing this, +but, when you once know it, you find no trouble. It is rhythmic prose in +a series of lines. Each line must contain a thought. Langhetti found no +difficulty in making rhyming lines, but rhymes are not necessary. This +rhythmic prose is as poetic as any thing can be. All the hymns of the +Greek Church are written on this principle. So are the Te Deum and the +Gloria. So were all the ancient Jewish psalms. The Jews improvised. I +suppose Deborah's song, and perhaps Miriam's, are of this order." + +"And you think the art can be learned by every one?" + +"No, not by every one. One must have a quick and vivid imagination, +and natural fluency--but these are all. Genius makes all the difference +between what is good and what is bad. Sometimes you have a song of +Miriam that lives while the world lasts, sometimes a poor little song +like one of mine." + +"Sing to me about music," said Brandon, suddenly. + +Beatrice immediately began an improvisation. But the music to which she +sang was lofty and impressive, and the marvelous sweetness of her voice +produced an indescribable effect. And again, as always when she sang, +the fashion of her face was changed, and she became transfigured before +his eyes. It was the same rhythmic prose of which she had been speaking, +sung according to the mode in which the Gloria is chanted, and divided +into bars of equal time. + +Brandon, as always, yielded to the spell of her song. To him it was an +incantation. Her own strains varied to express the changing sentiment, +and at last, as the song ended, it seemed to die away in melodious +melancholy, like the dying strain of the fabled swan. + +"Sing on!" he exclaimed, fervently; "I would wish to stand and hear your +voice forever." + +A smile of ineffable sweetness came over her face. She looked at him, +and said nothing. Brandon bowed his head, and stood in silence. + +Thus ended many of their interviews. Slowly and steadily this young girl +gained over him an ascendency which he felt hourly, and which was so +strong that he did not even struggle against it. Her marvelous genius, +so subtle, so delicate, yet so inventive and quick, amazed him. If he +spoke of this, she attributed every thing to Langhetti. "Could you but +see him," she would say, "I should seem like nothing!" + +"Has he such a voice?" + +"Oh! he has no voice at all. It is his soul," she would reply. "He +speaks through the violin. But he taught me all that I know. He said +my voice was God's gift. He had a strange theory that the language of +heaven and of the angels was music, and that he who loved it best on +earth made his life and his thoughts most heavenly." + +"You must have been fond of such a man." + +"Very," said Beatrice, with the utmost simplicity. "Oh, I loved him so +dearly!" + +But in this confession, so artlessly made, Brandon saw only a love that +was filial or sisterly. "He was the first one," said Beatrice, "who +showed me the true meaning of life. He exalted his art above all other +arts, and always maintained that it was the purest and best thing which +the world possessed. This consoled him for exile, poverty, and sorrow of +many kinds." + +"Was he married?" + +Beatrice looked at Brandon with a singular smile. "Married! Langhetti +married! Pardon me; but the idea of Langhetti in domestic life is so +ridiculous." + +"Why? The greatest musicians have married." + +Beatrice looked up to the sky with a strange, serene smile. "Langhetti +has no passion out of art," she said. "As an artist he is all fire, and +vehemence, and enthusiasm. He is aware of all human passions, but only +as an artist. He has only one love, and that is music. This is his idol. +He seems to me himself like a song. But all the raptures which poets and +novelists apply to lovers are felt by him in his music. He wants nothing +while he has this. He thinks the musician's life the highest life. He +says those to whom the revelations of God were committed were musicians. +As David and Isaiah received inspiration to the strains of the harp, +so, he says, have Bach and Mozart, Handel and Haydn, Beethoven and +Mendelssohn. And where, indeed," she continued, in a musing tone, half +soliloquizing, "where, indeed, can man rise so near heaven as when he +listens to the inspired strains of these lofty souls?" + +"Langhetti," said Brandon, in a low voice, "does not understand love, or +he would not put music in its place." + +"Yes," said Beatrice. "We spoke once about that. He has his own ideas, +which he expressed to me." + +"What were they?" + +"I will have to say them as he said them," said she. "For on this theme +he had to express himself in music." + +Brandon waited in rapt expectation. Beatrice began to sing: + + "Fairest of all most fair, + Young Love, how comest thou + Unto the soul? + Still as the evening breeze + Over the starry wave-- + The moonlit wave-- + + "The heart lies motionless; + So still, so sensitive; + Love fans the breeze. + Lo! at his lightest touch, + The myriad ripples rise, + And murmur on. + + "And ripples rise to waves, + And waves to rolling seas, + Till, far and wide, + The endless billows roll, + In undulations long, + For evermore!" + +Her voice died away into a scarce audible tone, which sank into +Brandon's heart, lingering and dying about the last word, with touching +and unutterable melancholy. It was like the lament of one who loved. It +was like the cry of some yearning heart. + +In a moment Beatrice looked at Brandon with a swift, bright smile. She +had sung these words as an artist. For a moment Brandon had thought that +she was expressing her own feelings. But the bright smile on her face +contrasted so strongly with the melancholy of her voice that he saw this +was not so. + +"Thus," she said, "Langhetti sang about it: and I have never forgotten +his words." + +The thought came to Brandon, is it not truer than she thinks, that "she +loves him very dearly?" as she said. + +"You were born to be an artist," he said, at last. + +Beatrice sighed lightly. "That's what I never can be, I am afraid," +said she. "Yet I hope I may be able to gratify my love for it. Art," +she continued, musingly, "is open to women as well as to men; and of all +arts none are so much so as music. The interpretation of great masters +is a blessing to the world. Langhetti used to say that these are the +only ones of modern times that have received heavenly inspiration. +They correspond to the Jewish prophets. He used to declare that the +interpretation of each was of equal importance. To man is given the +interpretation of the one, but to woman is given the interpretation of +much of the other. Why is not my voice, if it is such as he said, and +especially the feeling within me, a Divine call to go forth upon this +mission of interpreting the inspired utterances of the great masters of +modern days? + +"You," she continued, "are a man, and you have a purpose." Brandon +started, but she did not notice it. "You have a purpose in life," she +repeated. "Your intercourse with me will hereafter be but an episode in +the life that is before you. I am a girl, but I too may wish to have +a purpose in life--suited to my powers; and if I am not able to work +toward it I shall not be satisfied." + +"How do you know that I have a purpose, as you call it?" asked Brandon, +after a pause. + +"By the expression of your face, and your whole manner when you are +alone and subside into yourself," she replied, simply. + +"And of what kind?" he continued. + +"That I do not seek to know," she replied; "but I know that it must be +deep and all-absorbing. It seems to me to be too stern for Love; you are +not the man to devote yourself to Avarice: possibly it may be Ambition, +yet somehow I do not think so." + +"What do you think it is, then?" asked Brandon, in a voice which had +died away, almost to a whisper. + +She looked at him earnestly; she looked at him pityingly. She looked +at him also with that sympathy which might be evinced by one's Guardian +Angel, if that Being might by any chance become visible. She leaned +toward him, and spoke low in a voice only audible to him: + +"Something stronger than Love, and Avarice, and Ambition," said she. +"There can be only one thing." + +"What?" + +"Vengeance!" she said, in a voice of inexpressible mournfulness. + +Brandon looked at her wonderingly, not knowing how this young girl could +have divined his thoughts. He long remained silent. + +Beatrice folded her hands together, and looked pensively at the sea. + +"You are a marvelous being," said Brandon, at length. "Can you tell me +any more?" + +"I might," said she, hesitatingly; "but I am afraid you will think me +impertinent." + +"No," said Brandon. "Tell me, for perhaps you are mistaken." + +"You will not think me impertinent, then? You will only think that I +said so because you asked me?" + +"I entreat you to believe that it is impossible for me to think +otherwise of you than you yourself would wish." + +"Shall I say it, then?" + +"Yes." + +Her voice again sank to a whisper. "Your name is not Wheeler." + +Brandon looked at her earnestly. "How did you learn that?" + +"By nothing more than observation." + +"What is my name?" + +"Ah, that is beyond my power to know," said she with a smile. "I have +only discovered what you are not. Now you will not think me a spy, will +you?" she continued, in a pleading voice. + +Brandon smiled on her mournfully as she stood looking at him with her +dark eyes upraised. + +"A spy!" he repeated. "To me it is the sweetest thought conceivable +that you could take the trouble to notice me sufficiently." He checked +himself suddenly, for Beatrice looked away, and her hands which had been +folded together clutched each other nervously. "It is always flattering +for a gentleman to be the object of a lady's notice," he concluded, in a +light tone. + +Beatrice smiled. "But where," he continued, "could you have gained +that power of divination which you possess; you who have always lived a +secluded life in so remote a place?" + +"You did not think that one like me could come out of Hong-Kong, did +you?" said she, laughingly. + +"Well, I have seen much of the world; but I have not so much of this +power as you have." + +"You might have more if--if--" she hesitated. "Well," she continued, +"they say, you know, that men act by reason, women by intuition." + +"Have you any more intuitions?" asked Brandon, earnestly. + +"Yes," said she, mournfully. + +"Tell me some." + +"They will not do to tell," said Beatrice, in the same mournful tone. + +"Why not?" + +"They are painful." + +"Tell them at any rate." + +"No." + +"Hint at them." + +Beatrice looked at him earnestly. Their eyes met. In hers there was +a glance of anxious inquiry, as though her soul were putting forth a +question by that look which was stronger than words. In his there was +a glance of anxious expectancy, as though his soul were speaking unto +hers, saying: "Tell all; let me know if you suspect that of which I am +afraid to think." + +"We have met with ships at sea," she resumed, in low, deliberate tones. + +"Yes." + +"Sometimes we have caught up with them, we have exchanged signals, +we have sailed in sight of one another for hours or for days, holding +intercourse all the while. At last a new morning has come, and we looked +out over the sea, and the other ship has gone from sight. We have left +it forever. Perhaps we have drifted away, perhaps a storm has parted us, +the end is the same--separation for evermore." + +She spoke mournfully, looking away, her voice insensibly took up a +cadence, and the words seemed to fall of themselves into rhythmic pause. + +"I understand you," said Brandon, with a more profound mournfulness in +his voice. "You speak like a Sibyl. I pray Heaven that your words may +not be a prophecy." + +Beatrice still looked at him, and in her eyes he read pity beyond words; +and sorrow also as deep as that pity. + +"Do you read my thoughts as I read yours?" asked Brandon, abruptly. + +"Yes," she answered, mournfully. + +He turned his face away. + +"Did Langhetti teach you this also?" he asked, at last. + +"He taught me many things," was the answer. + +Day succeeded to day, and week to week. Still the ship went on holding +steadily to her course northward, and every day drawing nearer and +nearer her goal. Storms came--some moderate, some severe; but the ship +escaped them all with no casualties, and with but little delay. + +At last they passed the equator, and seemed to have entered the last +stage of their journey. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. + + +At length the ship came within the latitude of the Guinea coast. + +For some days there had been alternate winds and calms, and the weather +was so fitful and so fickle that no one could tell in one hour what +would happen in the next. All this was at last terminated by a dead, +dense, oppressive calm like those of the Indian Ocean, in which exertion +was almost impossible and breathing difficult. The sky, however, instead +of being clear and bright, as in former calms, was now overspread with +menacing clouds; the sea looked black, and spread out before them on +every side like an illimitable surface of polished ebony. There was +something appalling in the depth and intensity of this calm with such +accompaniments. All felt this influence. Although there was every +temptation to inaction and sleep yet no one yielded to it. The men +looked suspiciously and expectantly at every quarter of the heavens. The +Captain said nothing, but cautiously had all his preparations made for +a storm. Every half hour he anxiously consulted the barometer, and then +cast uneasy glances at the sea and sky. + +But the calm which had set in at midnight, and had become confirmed +at dawn, extended itself through the long day. The ship drifted idly, +keeping no course, her yards creaking lazily as she slowly rose and fell +at the movement of the ocean-undulations. Hour after hour passed, and +the day ended, and night came once more. + +The Captain did not turn in that night. In anxious expectation he waited +and watched on deck, while all around there was the very blackness +of darkness. Brandon began to see from the Captain's manner that he +expected something far more violent than any thing which the ship +had yet encountered, but, thinking that his presence would be of no +consequence, he retired at the usual hour. + +The deep, dense calm continued until nearly midnight. The watchers on +deck still waited in the same anxious expectation, thinking that the +night would bring on the change which they expected. + +Almost half an hour before midnight a faint light was seen in the thick +mass of clouds overhead--it was not lightning, but a whitish streak, as +though produced by some movement in the clouds. All looked up in mute +expectation. + +Suddenly a faint puff of wind came from the west, blowing gently for a +few moments, then stopping, and then coming on in a stronger blast. +Afar off, at what seemed like an immeasurable distance, a low, dull roar +arose, a heavy moaning sound, like the menace of the mighty Atlantic, +which was now advancing in wrath upon them. + +In the midst of this the whole scene burst forth into dazzling light at +the flash of a vast mass of lightning, which seemed to blaze from every +part of the heavens on every side simultaneously. It threw forth all +things--ship, sea, and sky--into the dazzled eyes of the watchers. They +saw the ebon sky, the black and lustrous sea, the motionless ship. They +saw also, far off to the west, a long line of white which appeared to +extend along the whole horizon. + +But the scene darted out of sight instantly, and instantly there fell +the volleying discharge of a tremendous peal of thunder, at whose +reverberations the air and sea and ship all vibrated. + +Now the sky lightened again, and suddenly, as the ship lay there, a +vast ball of fire issued from the black clouds immediately overhead, +descending like the lightning straight downward, till all at once +it struck the main truck. With a roar louder than that of the recent +thunder it exploded; fast sheets of fire flashed out into the air, and a +stream of light passed down the entire mast, shattering it as a tree is +shattered when the lightning strikes it. The whole ship was shaken to +its centre. The deck all around the mast was shattered to splinters, and +along its extent and around its base a burst of vivid flame started into +light. + +Wild confusion followed. At once all the sailors were ordered up, and +began to extinguish the fires, and to cut away the shattered mast. The +blows of the axes resounded through the ship. The rigging was severed; +the mast, already shattered, needed but a few blows to loosen its last +fibres. + +But suddenly, and furiously, and irresistibly it seemed as though the +whole tempest which they had so long expected was at last let loose upon +them. There was a low moan, and, while they were yet trying to get rid +of the mast, a tremendous squall struck the ship. It yielded and turned +far over to that awful blow. The men started back from their work. The +next instant a flash of lightning came, and toward the west, close +over them, rose a long, white wall of foam. It was the van-guard of the +storm, seen shortly before from afar, which was now upon them, ready to +fall on their devoted heads. + +Not a word was spoken. No order came from the Captain. The men awaited +some word. There came none. Then the waters, which thus rose up like a +heap before them, struck the ship with all the accumulated fury of that +resistless onset, and hurled their utmost weight upon her as she lay +before them. + +The ship, already reeling far over at the stroke of the storm, now, at +this new onset, yielded utterly, and rolled far over on her beam-ends. +The awful billows dashed over and over her, sweeping her in their +fury from end to end. The men clung helplessly to whatever rigging +lay nearest, seeking only in that first moment of dread to prevent +themselves from being washed away, and waiting for some order from the +Captain, and wondering while they waited. + +At the first peal of thunder Brandon had started up. He had lain down in +his clothes, in order to be prepared for any emergency. He called Cato. +The Hindu was at hand. "Cato, keep close to me whatever happens, for you +will be needed." "Yes, Sahib." He then hurried to Beatrice's room and +knocked. It was opened at once. She came forth with her pale, serene +face, and looked at him. + +"I did not lie down," said she. "I knew that there would be something +frightful. But I am not afraid. At any rate," she added, "I know I will +not be deserted." + +Brandon said nothing, but held out to her an India-rubber +life-preserver. "What is this for?" "For you. I wish you to put it on. +It may not be needed, but it is best to have it on." "And what will you +do?" "I--oh! I can swim, you know. But you don't know how to fasten it. +Will you allow me to do so?" She raised her arms. He passed the belt +around her waist, encircling her almost in his arms while doing so, +and his hand, which had boldly grasped the head of the "dweller in the +wreck," now trembled as he fastened the belt around that delicate and +slender waist. + +But scarcely had this been completed when the squall struck the ship, +and the waves followed till the vessel was thrown far over on her side; +and Brandon seizing Beatrice in one arm, clung with the other to the +edge of the skylight, and thus kept himself upright. + +He rested now for a moment. "I must go on deck," he said. "I do not wish +you to leave me," was her answer. Nothing more was said. Brandon at once +lifted her with one arm as though she were a child and clambered along, +grasping such fixtures as afforded any thing to which he could cling; +and thus, with hands and feet, groped his way to the door of the cabin, +which was on the windward side. There were two doors, and between them +was a seat. + +"This," said he, "is the safest place for you. Can you hold on for a +short time? If I take you on deck you will be exposed to the waves." + +"I will do whatever you say," she replied; and clinging to the arm of +the almost perpendicular seat, she was able to sustain herself there +amidst the tossing and swaying of the ship. + +Brandon then clambered out on deck. The ship lay far over. The waves +came leaping upon her in successive surges. All around the sea was +glistening with phosphorescent lustre, and when at times the lightning +flashed forth it lighted up the scene, and showed the ocean stirred +up to fiercest commotion. It seemed as though cataracts of water were +rushing over the doomed ship, which now lay helpless, and at the mercy +of the billows. The force of the wind was tremendous, exceeding any +thing that Brandon had ever witnessed before. + +What most surprised him now was the inaction of the ship's company. Why +was not something being done? Where was the Captain? + +He called out his name; there was no response. He called after the mate; +there was no answer. Instantly he conjectured that in the first fierce +onset of the storm both Captain and mate had been swept away. How many +more of that gallant company of brave fellows had perished he knew not. +The hour was a perilous and a critical one. He himself determined to +take the lead. + +Through the midst of the storm, with its tumult and its fury, there +came a voice as full and clear as a trumpet-peal, which roused all the +sailors, and inspired them once more with hope. "Cut away the masts!" +The men obeyed, without caring who gave the order. It was the command +which each man had been expecting, and which he knew was the thing that +should be done. At once they sprang to their work. The main-mast had +already been cut loose. Some went to the fore-mast, others to the +mizzen. The vast waves rolled on; the sailors guarded as best they could +against the rush of each wave, and then sprang in the intervals to their +work. It was perilous in the highest degree, but each man felt that +his own life and the lives of all the others depended upon the +accomplishment of this work, and this nerved the arm of each to the +task. + +At last it was done. The last strand of rigging had been cut away. The +ship, disencumbered, slowly righted, and at last rode upright. + +But her situation was still dangerous. She lay in the trough of the sea, +and the gigantic waves, as they rolled up, still beat upon her with all +their concentrated energies. Helpless, and now altogether at the mercy +of the waves, the only hope left those on board lay in the strength of +the ship herself. + +None of the officers were left. As the ship righted Brandon thought that +some of them might make their appearance, but none came. The Captain, +the mate, and the second mate, all had gone. Perhaps all of them, as +they stood on the quarter-deck, had been swept away simultaneously. +Nothing could now be done but to wait. Morning at last came to the +anxious watchers. It brought no hope. Far and wide the sea raged +with all its waves. The wind blew with undiminished and irresistible +violence. The ship, still in the trough of the sea, heaved and plunged +in the overwhelming waves, which howled madly around and leaped over her +like wolves eager for their prey. The wind was too fierce to permit even +an attempt to rig a jury-mast. + +The ship was also deeply laden, and this contributed to her peril. Had +her cargo been smaller she would have been more buoyant; but her full +cargo, added to her dangerous position as she lay at the mercy of the +waves, made all hope of escape dark indeed. + +Another night succeeded. It was a night of equal horror. The men stood +watching anxiously for some sign of abatement in the storm, but none +came. Sea and sky frowned over them darkly, and all the powers which +they controlled were let loose unrestrained. + +Another day and night came and went. Had not the _Falcon_ been a ship of +unusual strength she would have yielded before this to the storm. As it +was, she began to show signs of giving way to the tremendous hammering +to which she had been exposed, and her heavy Australian cargo bore her +down. On the morning of the third day Brandon saw that she was deeper in +the water, and suspected a leak. He ordered the pumps to be sounded. It +was as he feared. There were four feet of water in the hold. + +The men went to work at the pumps and worked by relays. Amidst the rush +of the waves over the ship it was difficult to work advantageously, but +they toiled on. Still, in spite of their efforts, the leak seemed to +have increased, for the water did not lessen. With their utmost exertion +they could do little more than hold their own. + +It was plain that this sort of thing could not last. Already three +nights and three days of incessant toil and anxiety, in which no one had +slept, had produced their natural effects. The men had become faint and +weary. But the brave fellows never murmured; they did every thing which +Brandon ordered, and worked uncomplainingly. + +Thus, through the third day, they labored on, and into the fourth night. +That night the storm seemed to have reached its climax, if, indeed, any +climax could be found to a storm which at the very outset had burst upon +them with such appalling suddenness and fury, and had sustained itself +all along with such unremitting energy. But on that night it was worse +for those on board, since the ship which had resisted so long began to +exhibit signs of yielding, her planks and timbers so severely assailed +began to give way, and through the gaping seams the ocean waters +permeated, till the ocean, like some beleaguering army, failing in +direct assault, began to succeed by opening secret mines to the very +heart of the besieged ship. + +On the morning of the fourth day all hands were exhausted from +night-long work, and there were ten feet of water in the hold. + +It now became evident that the ship was doomed. Brandon at once began to +take measures for the safety of the men. + +On that memorable day of the calm previous to the outbreak of the storm, +the Captain had told Brandon that they were about five hundred miles to +the westward of the coast of Senegambia. He could not form any idea +of the distance which the ship had drifted during the progress of the +storm, but justly considered that whatever progress she had made had +been toward the land. Their prospects in that direction, if they could +only reach it, were not hopeless. Sierra Leone and Liberia were there; +and if they struck the coast any where about they might make their way +to either of those places. + +But the question was how to get there. There was only one way, and that +was by taking to the boats. This was a desperate undertaking, but it was +the only way of escape now left. + +There were three boats on board--viz., the long-boat, the cutter, and +the gig. These were the only hope now left them. By venturing in these +there would be a chance of escape. + +On the morning of the fourth day, when it was found that the water was +increasing, Brandon called the men together and stated this to them. He +then told them that it would be necessary to divide themselves so that a +sufficient number should go in each boat. He offered to give up to them +the two larger boats, and take the gig for himself, his servant, and the +young lady. + +To this the men assented with great readiness. Some of them urged him +to go in the larger boat, and even offered to exchange with him; but +Brandon declined. + +They then prepared for their desperate venture. All the provisions and +water that could be needed were put on board of each boat. Firearms were +not forgotten. Arrangements were made for a long and arduous voyage. The +men still worked at the pumps; and though the water gained on them, yet +time was gained for completing these important preparations. + +About mid-day all was ready. Fifteen feet of water were in the hold. The +ship could not last much longer. There was no time to lose. + +But how could the boats be put out? How could they live in such a sea? +This was the question to be decided. + +The ship lay as before in the trough of the sea. On the windward side +the waves came rushing up, beating upon and sweeping over her. On the +leeward the water was calmer, but the waves tossed and raged angrily +even there. + +Only twenty were left out of the ship's company. The rest were all +missing. Of these, fourteen were to go in the long-boat, and six in the +cutter. Brandon, Beatrice, and Cato were to take the gig. + +The sailors put the gig out first. The light boat floated buoyantly on +the waters. Cato leaped into her, and she was fastened by a long line +to the ship. The nimble Hindu, trained for a lifetime to encounter +the giant surges of the Malabar coast, managed the little boat with +marvelous dexterity--avoiding the sweep of the waves which dashed +around, and keeping sufficiently under the lee to escape the rougher +waves, yet not so much so as to be hurled against the vessel. + +Then the sailors put out the long-boat. This was a difficult +undertaking, but it was successfully accomplished, and the men were all +on board at last. Instantly they prepared to row away. + +At that moment a wilder wave came pouring over the ship. It was as +though the ocean, enraged at the escape of these men, had made a final +effort to grasp its prey. Before the boat with its living freight had +got rid of the vessel, the sweep of this gigantic wave, which had passed +completely over the ship, struck it where it lay. Brandon turned away +his eyes involuntarily. + +There was a wild shriek--the next moment the black outline of the +long-boat, bottom upward, was seen amidst the foaming billows. + +The men who waited to launch the cutter were at first paralyzed by this +tragedy, but there was no time to lose. Death threatened them behind +as well as before; behind, death was certain; before, there was still a +chance. They launched the cutter in desperation. The six men succeeded +in getting into her, and in rowing out at some distance. As wave after +wave rose and fell she disappeared from view, and then reappeared, till +at last Brandon thought that she at least was safe. + +Then he raised his hand and made a peculiar signal to Cato. + +The Hindu understood it. Brandon had given him his directions before; +now was the time. The roll of the waves [illegible] up was for the +present less dangerous. + +Beatrice, who during the whole storm had been calm, and had quietly +done whatever Brandon told her, was now waiting at the cabin-door in +obedience to his directions. + +As soon as Brandon had made the signal he hurried to the cabin-door and +assisted Beatrice to the quarter-deck. Cato rowed his boat close up to +the ship, and was waiting for a chance to come within reach. The waves +were still more moderate. It was the opportunity for which Cato had been +watching so long. He held his oars poised, and, as a sudden swell of a +wave rose near the ship, he forced his boat so that it came close beside +it, rising high on the crest of the swell. + +As the wave rose, Brandon also had watched his opportunity as well +as the action of Cato. It was the moment too for which he had been +watching. In an instant, and without a word, he caught Beatrice in his +arms, raised her high in the air, poised himself for a moment on the +edge of the quarter-deck, and sprang forward into the boat. His foot +rested firmly on the seat where it struck. He set Beatrice down, and +with a knife severed the line which connected the boat with the ship. + +Then seizing an oar he began to row with all his strength. Cato had the +bow oar. The next wave came, and its sweep, communicating itself to the +water, rolled on, dashing against the ship and moving under it, rising +up high, lifting the boat with it, and bearing it along. But the boat +was now under command, and the two rowers held it so that while it was +able to avoid the dash of the water, it could yet gain from it all the +momentum that could be given. + +Brandon handled the oar with a dexterity equal to that of the Hindu, and +under such management, which was at once strong and skillful, the boat +skimmed lightly over the crests of the rolling waves, and passed out +into the sea beyond. There the great surges came sweeping on, rising +high behind the boat, each wave seeming about to crush the little bark +in its resistless grasp, but notwithstanding the threat the boat seemed +always able by some good luck to avoid the impending danger, for as each +wave came forward the boat would rise up till it was on a level with +the crest, and the flood of waters would sweep on underneath, bearing it +onward. + +After nearly half an hour's anxious and careful rowing Brandon looked +all about to find the cutter. It was nowhere to be seen. Again and again +he looked for it, seeking in all directions. But he discovered no sign +of it on the raging waters, and at last he could no longer doubt that +the cutter also, like long-boat, had perished in the sea. + +All day long they rowed before the wind and wave--not strongly, but +lightly, so as to husband their strength. Night came, when Brandon and +Cato took turns at the oars--not over-exerting themselves, but seeking +chiefly to keep the boat's head in proper direction, and to evade the +rush of the waves. This last was their constant danger, and it required +the utmost skill and the most incessant watchfulness to do so. + +[Illustration: "WITHOUT A WORD HE CAUGHT BEATRICE IN HIS ARMS." ETC.] + +All this time Beatrice sat in the stern, with a heavy oil-cloth coat +around her, which Brandon directed her to put on, saying nothing, but +seeing every thing with her watchful, vigilant eyes. + +"Are you afraid?" said Brandon once, just after they had evaded an +enormous wave. + +"No!" was the reply, in a calm, sweet voice; "I trust in you." + +"I hope your trust may not be vain," replied Brandon. + +"You have saved my life so often," said Beatrice, "that my trust in you +has now become a habit." + +She smiled faintly as she spoke. There was something in her tone which +sank deep into his soul. + +The night passed and morning came. + +For the last half of the night the wind had been much less boisterous, +and toward morning the gale had very greatly subsided. Brandon's +foresight had secured a mast and sail on board the gig, and now, as soon +as it could be erected with safety, he put it up, and the little boat +dashed bravely over the waters. The waves had lessened greatly as the +day wore on; they no longer rose in such giant masses, but showed merely +the more common proportions. Brandon and Cato now had an opportunity to +get some rest from their exhaustive labors. Beatrice at last yielded +to Brandon's earnest request, and, finding that the immediate peril had +passed, and that his toil for the present was over, she obtained some +sleep and rest for herself. + +For all that day, and all that night, and all the next day, the little +boat sped over the waters, heading due east, so as to reach land +wherever they might find it, in the hope that the land might not be very +far away from the civilized settlements of the coast. The provisions and +water which had been put in the boat formed an ample supply, which would +last for a long time. Brandon shared with Cato in the management of the +boat, not allowing the big man to have more of the labor than himself. + +During these days Brandon and Beatrice were of course thrown into a +closer intimacy. At such a time the nature of man or woman becomes most +apparent, and here Beatrice showed a noble calm and a simple trust which +to Brandon was most touching. He knew that she must feel most keenly +the fatigue and the privations of such a life; but her unvarying +cheerfulness was the same as it had been on shipboard. He, too, +exhibited that same constancy and resolution which he had always +evinced, and by his consideration for Cato showed his natural kindness +of heart. + +"How sorry I am that I can do nothing!" Beatrice would say. "You are +killing yourself, and I have to sit idle and gain my safety at your +expense." + +"The fact that you are yet safe," Brandon would reply, "is enough for +me. As long as I see you sitting there I can work." + +"But can I do nothing? It is hard for me to sit idle while you wear out +your life." + +"You can sing," said Brandon. + +"What?" + +"Langhetti's song," he said, and turned his face away. + +She sang at once. Her tones rose in marvelous modulations; the words +were not much, but the music with which she clothed them seemed again to +utter forth that longing which Brandon had heard before. + +Now, as they passed over the seas, Beatrice sang, and Brandon did not +wish that this life should end. Through the days, as they sailed on, +her voice arose expressive of every changeful feeling, now speaking of +grief, now swelling in sweet strains of hope. + +Day thus succeeded to day until the fourth night came, when the wind +died out and a calm spread over the waters. + +Brandon, who waked at about two in the morning so as to let Cato sleep, +saw that the wind had ceased, and that another one of those treacherous +calms had come. He at once put out the oars, and, directing Cato to +sleep till he waked him, began to pull. + +Beatrice remonstrated. "Do not," said she, in an imploring tone. "You +have already done too much. Why should you kill yourself?" + +"The wind has stopped," answered Brandon. "The calm is treacherous, and +no time ought to be lost." + +"But wait till you have rested." + +"I have been resting for days." + +"Why do you not rest during the night and work in the daytime?" + +"Because the daytime is so frightfully hot that work will be difficult. +Night is the time to work now." + +Brandon kept at his oars, and Beatrice saw that remonstrances were +useless. He rowed steadily until the break of day: then, as day was +dawning, he rested for a while, and looked earnestly toward the east. + +A low, dark cloud lay along the eastern horizon, well-defined against +the sky, which now was growing brighter and brighter every hour. Was +it cloud, or was it something else? This was the question that rose in +Brandon's mind. + +The sky grew brighter, the scene far and wide opened up before the +gathering light until at last the sun began to appear. Then there was no +longer any doubt. It was LAND. + +This he told to Beatrice; and the Hindu, waking at the same time, looked +earnestly toward that shore which they had been striving so long and +so earnestly to reach. It was land, but what land? No doubt it was some +part of the coast of Senegambia, but what one? Along that extensive +coast there were many places where landing might be certain death, or +something worse than death. Savage tribes might dwell there--either +those which were demoralized by dealings with slave-traders, or those +which were flourishing in native barbarism. Yet only one course was now +advisable; namely, to go on till they reached the shore. + +It appeared to be about fifty miles away. So Brandon judged, and so it +proved. The land which they had seen was the summit of lofty hills which +were visible from a great distance. They rowed on all that day. The +water was calm and glassy. The sun poured down its most fervid beams, +the air was sultry and oppressive. Beatrice entreated Brandon now to +desist from rowing and wait till the cool of the night, but he was +afraid that a storm might come up suddenly. + +"No," he said, "our only hope now is to get near the land, so that if a +storm does come up we may have some place of shelter within reach." + +After a day of exhaustive labor the land was at last reached. + +High hills, covered with palm-trees, rose before them. There was no +harbor within sight, no river outlet, but a long, uninterrupted extent +of high, wooded shores. Here in the evening they rested on their oars, +and looked earnestly at the shore. + +Brandon conjectured that they were somewhat to the north of Sierra +Leone, and did not think that they could be to the south. At any rate, +a southeasterly course was the surest one for them, for they would reach +either Sierra Leone or Liberia. The distance which they might have to go +was, however, totally uncertain to him. + +So they turned the boat's head southeast, and moved in a line parallel +with the general line of the shore. That shore varied in its features +as they passed along: sometimes depressed into low, wide savannas: at +others, rising into a rolling country, with hills of moderate height, +behind which appeared the summits of lofty mountains, empurpled by +distance. + +It was evening when they first saw the land, and then they went on +without pausing. It was arranged that they should row alternately, as +moderately as possible, so as to husband their strength. Cato rowed for +the first part of that night, then Brandon rowed till morning. On the +following day Cato took the oars again. + +It was now just a week since the wreck, and for the last two days there +had not been a breath of wind in the air, nor the faintest ripple on +that burning water. To use even the slightest exertion in such torrid +heat was almost impossible. Even to sit still under that blighting sun, +with the reflected glare from the dead, dark sea around, was painful. + +Beatrice redoubled her entreaties to Brandon that he should rest. She +wished to have her mantle spread over their heads as a kind of canopy, +or fix the sail in some way and float idly through the hottest part of +the day. But Brandon insisted that he felt no evil effects as yet; and +promised when he did feel such to do as she said. + +At last they discovered that their water was almost out, and it was +necessary to get a fresh supply. It was the afternoon of the seventh +day. Brandon had been rowing ever since midday. Beatrice had wound her +mantle about his head in the style of an Eastern turban so as to protect +him from the sun's rays. Looking out for some place along the shore +where they might obtain water, they saw an opening in the line of coast +where two hills arose to a height of several hundred feet. Toward this +Brandon rowed. + +Stimulated by the prospect of setting foot on shore Brandon rowed +somewhat more vigorously than usual; and in about an hour the boat +entered a beautiful little cove shut in between two hills, which formed +the outlet of a river. Far up its winding course could be traced by the +trees along its borders. The hills rose on each side with a steep slope, +and were covered with palms. The front of the harbor was shut in from +the sea by a beautiful little wooded island. Here Brandon rowed the boat +into this cove; and its prow grated against the pebbles of the beach. + +Beatrice had uttered many exclamations of delight at the beauty of this +scene. At length, surprised at Brandon's silence, she cried, + +"Why do you not say something? Surely this is a Paradise after the sea!" + +She looked up with an enthusiastic smile. + +He had risen to his feet. A strange, vacant expression was in his eyes. +He made a step forward as if to land. His unsteady foot trembled. He +reeled, and stretched out his arms like some one groping in the dark. + +Beatrice shrieked and sprang forward. Too late: for the next moment he +fell headlong into the water. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +THE BADINAGE OF OLD FRIENDS. + +The town of Holby is on the coast of Pembroke. It has a small harbour, +with a light-house, and the town itself contains a few thousand people, +most of them belonging to the poorer class. The chief house in the town +stands on a rising ground a little outside, looking toward the water. +Its size and situation render it the most conspicuous object in the +neighborhood. + +This house, from its appearance, must have been built more than a +century before. It belonged to an old family which had become extinct, +and now was occupied by a new owner, who had given it another name. This +new owner was William Thornton, Esq., solicitor, who had an office in +Holby, and who, though very wealthy, still attended to his business with +undiminished application. The house had been originally purchased by the +father of the present occupant, Henry Thornton, a well-known lawyer in +these parts, who had settled here originally a poor young man, but had +finally grown gray and rich in his adopted home. He had bought the place +when it was exposed for sale, with the intention of founding a new seat +for his own family, and had given it the name of Thornton Grange. + +Generations of care and tasteful culture had made Thornton Grange one +of the most beautiful places in the county. All around were wide parks +dotted with ponds and clumps of trees. An avenue of elms led up to the +door. A well-kept lawn was in front, and behind was an extensive grove. +Every thing spoke of wealth and elegance. + +On an afternoon in February a gentleman in clerical dress walked up the +avenue, rang at the door, and entering he gave his name to the servant +as the Rev. Courtenay Despard. He was the new Rector of Holby, and had +only been there one week. + +He entered the drawing-room, sat down upon one of the many lounging +chairs with which it was filled, and waited. He did not have to wait +long. A rapid step was soon heard descending the stairs, and in a few +minutes a lady entered. She came in with a bright smile of welcome on +her face, and greeted him with much warmth. + +Mrs. Thornton was very striking in her appearance. A clear olive +complexion and large, dark hazel eyes marked Southern blood. Her hair +was black, wavy, and exceedingly luxuriant. Her mouth was small, her +hands and feet delicately shaped, and her figure slender and elegant. +Her whole air had that indefinable grace which is the sign of +high-breeding; to this there was added exceeding loveliness, with great +animation of face and elegance of manner. She was a perfect lady, yet +not of the English stamp; for her looks and manner had not that cold +and phlegmatic air which England fosters. She looked rather like some +Italian beauty--like those which enchant us as they smile from the walls +of the picture-galleries of Italy. + +"I am so glad you have come!" said she. "It is so stupid here, and I +expected you an hour ago." + +"Oh, if I had only known that!" said Despard. "For, do you know, I have +been dying of ennui." + +"I hope that I may be the means of dispelling it." + +"As surely so as the sun disperses the clouds." + +"You are never at a loss for a compliment." + +"Never when I am with you." + +These few words were spoken with a smile by each, and a slightly +melodramatic gesture, as though each was conscious of a little +extravagance. + +"You must be glad to get to your old home," she resumed. "You lived here +fifteen, no, sixteen years, you know." + +"Eighteen." + +"So it was. I was sixteen when you left." + +"Never to see you again till I came back," said Despard, with some +mournfulness, looking at the floor. + +"And since then all has changed." + +"But I have not," rejoined Despard, in the same tone. + +Mrs. Thornton said nothing for a moment. + +"By-the-way, I've been reading such a nice book," she resumed. "It has +just come out, and is making a sensation. It would suit you, I know." + +"What is it?" + +She rose and lifted a book from the table, which she handed to him. He +took it, and read the title out loud. + +"Christian's Cross." + +A strange expression passed over his face. He looked at her, holding the +book out at arms'-length with feigned consternation. + +"And do you have the heart to recommend this book to me, Mrs. Thornton?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why, it's religious. Religious books are my terror. How could I +possibly open a book like this?" + +She laughed. + +"You are mistaken," she said. "It is an ordinary novel, and for the +sake of your peace of mind I assure you that there is not a particle of +religion in it. But why should you look with such repugnance upon it? +The expression of your face is simply horror." + +"Pietistic books have been the bane of my life. The emotional, the +rhapsodical, the meditative style of book, in which one garrulously +addresses one's soul from beginning to end, is simply torture to me. +You see religion is a different thing. The rhapsody may do for +the Tabernacle people, but thoughtful men and women need something +different." + +"I am so delighted to hear such sentiments from a clergyman! They +entirely accord with my own. Still I must own that your horror struck me +as novel, to say the least of it." + +"Would you like me to try to proselytize you?" + +"You may try if you wish. I am open to conviction; but the Church of all +the ages, the Apostolic, the Catholic, has a strong hold on me." + +"You need not fear that I will ever try to loosen it. I only wish that I +may see your face in Trinity Church every Sunday." + +"That happiness shall be yours," answered Mrs. Thornton. "As there is +no Catholic church here, I will give you the honor of my presence at +Trinity." + +"If that is the case it will be a place of worship to me." + +He smiled away the extravagance of this last remark, and she only shook +her head. + +"That is a compliment, but it is awfully profane." + +"Not profanity; say rather justifiable idolatry." + +"Really, I feel overcome; I do not know what to say. At any rate, I hope +you will like the book; I know you will find it pleasant." + +"Any thing that comes from you could not be otherwise," said Despard. +"At the same time it is not my habit to read novels singly." + +"Singly! Why how else can one read them?" + +"I always read several at a time." + +Mrs. Thornton laughed at the whimsical idea. + +"You see," said Despard, "one must keep up with the literature of the +day. I used to read each book as it came out, but at last found satiety. +The best novel palls. For my own comfort I had to invent a new plan to +stimulate my interest. I will tell you about it. I take ten at a time, +spread them on the table in front of me, and read each chapter in +succession." + +"Isn't that a little confusing?" + +"Not at all," said Despard, gravely. "Practice enables one to keep all +distinct." + +"But what is the good of it?" + +"This," replied Despard; "you see in each novel there are certain +situations. Perhaps on an average there may be forty each. Interesting +characters also may average ten each. Thrilling scenes twenty each. +Overwhelming catastrophes fifteen each. Now by reading novels singly the +effect of all this is weakened, for you only have the work of each in +its divided, isolated state, but where you read according to my plan you +have the aggregate of all these effects in one combined--that is to say, +in ten books which I read at once I have two hundred thrilling scenes, +one hundred and fifty overwhelming catastrophes, one hundred interesting +characters, and four hundred situations of absorbing fascination. Do you +not see what an advantage there is in my plan? By following this rule +I have been able to stimulate a somewhat faded appetite, and to keep +abreast of the literature of the day." + +"What an admirable plan! And do you read all books in that way? Why, +one could write ten novels at a time on the same principle, and if so he +ought to write very much better." + +"I think I will try it some day. At present I am busily engaged with a +learned treatise on the Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy, and--" + +"The--what?" cried Mrs. Thornton, breathlessly. "What was that?" + +"The Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy," said Despard, placidly. + +"And is the title all your own?" + +"All my own." + +"Then pray don't write the book. The title is enough. Publish that, and +see if it does not of itself by its own extraordinary merits bring you +undying fame." + +"I've been thinking seriously of doing so," said Despard, "and I don't +know but that I may follow your advice. It will save some trouble, and +perhaps amount to just as much in the end." + +"And do you often have such brilliant fancies?" + +"No, frankly, not often. I consider that title the one great idea of my +life." + +"But do not dwell too much upon that," said Mrs. Thornton, in a warning +voice. "It might make you conceited." + +"Do you think so?" rejoined the other, with a shudder. "Do you really +think so? I hope not. At any rate I hope you do not like conceited +people?" + +"No." + +"Am I conceited?" + +"No. I like you," replied Mrs. Thornton, with a slight bow and a wave of +the hand, which she accompanied with a smile. + +"And I like you," said Despard, in the same tone. + +"You could not do less." + +"This," said Despard, with an air of thoughtful seriousness, "is a +solemn occasion. After such a tender confession from each of us what +remains to be done? What is it that the novels lay down?" + +"I'm sure," returned Mrs. Thornton, with the same assumed solemnity, "it +is not for me to say. You must make the proposition." + +"We cannot do any thing less than fly together." + +"I should think not" + +"But where?" + +"And not only where, but how? By rail, by steamboat, or by canal? A +canal strikes me as the best mode of flight. It is secluded." + +"Free from observation," said Despard. + +"Quiet," rejoined Mrs. Thornton. + +"Poetic." + +"Remote." + +"Unfriended." + +"Solitary." + +"Slow." + +"And, best of all, hitherto untried." + +"Yes, its novelty is undeniable." + +"So much so," said Mrs. Thornton, "that it overwhelms one. It is a +bright, original idea, and in these days of commonplace is it +not creditable? The idea is mine, Sir, and I will match it with +your--what?--your Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Cosmogony." + +"Economy." + +"But Cosmogony is better. Allow me to suggest it by way of a change." + +"It must be so, since you say it; but I have a weakness for the word +Economy. It is derived from the Greek--" + +"Greek!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, raising her hands. "You surely are not +going to be so ungenerous as to quote Greek! Am I not a lady? Will you +be so base as to take me at a disadvantage in that way?" + +"I am thoroughly ashamed of myself, and you may consider that a tacit +apology is going on within my mind whenever I see you." + +"You are forgiven," said Mrs. Thornton. + +"I can not conceive how I could have so far forgotten myself. I do not +usually speak Greek to ladies. I consider it my duty to make myself +agreeable. And you have no idea how agreeable I can make myself, if I +try." + +"I? I have no idea? Is it you who say that, and to me?" exclaimed Mrs. +Thornton, in that slight melodramatic tone which she had employed thus +far, somewhat exaggerated. "After what I told you--of my feelings?" + +"I see I shall have to devote all the rest of my life to making +apologies." + +"No. Do not make apologies. Avoid your besetting sins. Otherwise, fond +as I am of you"--and she spoke with exaggerated solemnity--"I must +regard you as a failure." + +The conversation went on uninterruptedly in this style for some time. It +appeared to suit each of them. Despard's face, naturally grave, assisted +him toward maintaining the mock-serious tone which he chose to adopt; +and Mrs. Thornton's peculiar style of face gave her the same advantage. +It pleased each to express for the other an exaggerated sentiment of +regard. They considered it banter and badinage. How far it was safe was +another thing. But they had known one another years before, and were +only resuming the manner of earlier times. + +Yet, after all, was it safe for the grave Rector of Holby to adopt +the inflated style of a troubadour in addressing the Lady of Thornton +Grange? Neither of them thought of it. They simply improved the +shining hour after this fashion, until at length the conversation was +interrupted by the opening of folding-doors, and the entrance of a +servant who announced--dinner. + +On entering the dining-room Despard was greeted with respectful +formality by the master of the house. He was a man of about forty, +with the professional air of the lawyer about him, and an abstracted +expression of face, such as usually belongs to one who is deeply +engrossed in the cares of business. His tone, in spite of its +friendliness, was naturally stiff, and was in marked contrast to the +warmth of Mrs. Thornton's greeting. + +"How do you like your new quarters?" he asked, as they sat down. + +"Very well," said Despard. "It is more my home, you know, than any other +place. I lived there so many years as school-boy with Mr. Carson that it +seems natural to take up my station there as home." + +Mr. Thornton relapsed into his abstraction while Despard was speaking, +who directed the remainder of his conversation to Mrs. Thornton. + +It was light, idle chat, in the same tone as that in which they had +before indulged. Once or twice, at some unusually extravagant remark, +Mr. Thornton looked up in perplexity, which was not lessened on seeing +their perfect gravity. + +They had a long discussion as to the meaning of the phrase "the day +after to-morrow." Despard asserted that it meant the same as eternal +duration, and insisted that it must be so, since when to-morrow came the +day after it was still coming, and when that came there was still +the day after. He supported his theory with so much earnestness that +Thornton, after listening for a while, took the trouble to go heavily +and at length into the whole question, and conclude it triumphantly +against Despard. + +Then the subject of politics came up, and a probable war with France was +considered. Despard professed to take no interest in the subject, since, +even if an invasion took place, clergymen could do nothing. They were +exempt from military duty in common with gaugers. The mention of this +brought on a long discussion as to the spelling of the word gauger. +Despard asserted that nobody knew how it was spelled, and that, from the +necessities of human nature, it was simply impossible to tell whether it +was _gauger_ or _guager_. This brought out Thornton again, who mentioned +several law papers in which the word had been correctly written by his +clerks. Despard challenged him on this, and, because Thornton had +to confess that he had not examined the word, dictionary in hand, he +claimed a victory over him. + +Thornton, at this, looked away, with the smile of a man who is talking +unintelligible things to a child. + +Then followed a long conversation between Despard and Mrs. Thornton +about religion, art, music, and a miscellaneous assemblage of other +things, which lasted for a long time. At length he rose to go. Mrs. +Thornton went to a side-table and took up a book. + +"Here," said she, "is the little book you lent me; I ought to have sent +it, but I thought you would come for it." + +"And so I will," said he, "some day." + +"Come for it to-morrow." + +"Will you be at home?" + +[Illustration: "MRS. THORNTON, WALKING TO THE WINDOW, LOOKED OUT."] + +"Yes." + +"Then of course I'll come. And now I must tear myself away. Good-night!" + +On the following day, at about two o'clock, Despard called again. Mrs. +Thornton had been writing, and the desk was strewn with papers. + +"I know I am disturbing you," said he, after the usual greetings. "I see +that you are writing, so I will not stay but a moment. I have come, you +know, after that little book." + +"Indeed, you are not disturbing me at all. I have been trying to +continue a letter which I began to my brother a month ago. There is no +hurry about it." + +"And how is Paolo?" + +"I have not heard for some time. I ought to hear soon. He went to +America last summer, and I have not had a word from him since. My letter +is of no importance, I assure you, and now, since you are here, you +shall not go. Indeed, I only touched it a minute ago. I have been +looking at some pictures till I am so begrimed and inundated with dust +that I feel as though I had been resolved into my original element." + +And she held up her hands with a pretty gesture of horror. + +Despard looked at her for a moment as she stood in her bright beauty +before him. A sudden expression of pain flashed over his face, succeeded +by his usual smile. + +"Dust never before took so fair a form," he said, and sat down, looking +on the floor. + +"For unfailing power of compliment, for an unending supply of neat and +pretty speeches, commend me to the Rev. Courtenay Despard." + +"Yet, singularly enough, no one else ever dreamed that of me." + +"You were always so." + +"With you." + +"In the old days." + +"Now lost forever." + +Their voices sank low and expressive of a deep melancholy. A silence +followed. Despard at last, with a sudden effort, began talking in his +usual extravagant strain about badgers till at last Mrs. Thornton began +to laugh, and the radiancy of their spirits was restored. "Strange," +said he, taking up a prayer-book with a peculiar binding, on which there +was a curiously intertwisted figure in gilt. "That pattern has been in +my thoughts and dreams for a week." + +"How so?" + +"Why, I saw it in your hands last Sunday, and my eyes were drawn to +it till its whole figure seemed to stamp itself on my mind. See! I can +trace it from memory." And, taking his cane, he traced the curiously +involved figure on the carpet. + +"And were your thoughts fixed on nothing better than that?" + +"I was engaged in worship," was the reply, with marked emphasis. + +"I must take another book next time." + +"Do not. You will only force me to study another pattern." + +Mrs. Thornton laughed lightly, and Despard looked at her with a smile. + +"I'm afraid your thoughts wander," she said, lightly, "as mine do. There +is no excuse for you. There is for me. For you know I'm like Naaman; I +have to bow my head in the temple of Baal. After all," she continued, +in a more serious voice, "I suppose I shall be able some day to worship +before my own altar, for, do you know, I expect to end my days in a +convent." + +"And why?" + +"For the purpose of perfect religious seclusion." + +Despard looked at her earnestly for a moment. Then his usual smile broke +out. + +"Wherever you go let me know, and I'll take up my abode outside the +walls and come and look at you every day through the grating." + +"And would that be a help to a religious life?" + +"Perhaps not; but I'll tell you what would be a help. Be a Sister of +Charity. I'll be a Paulist. I'll devote myself to the sick. Then you and +I can go together; and when you are tired I can assist you. I think that +idea is much better than yours." + +"Oh, very much, indeed!" said Mrs. Thornton, with a strange, sad look. + +"I remember a boy and girl who once used to go hand in hand over yonder +shore, and--" He stopped suddenly, and then hastily added, "and now it +would be very sad, and therefore very absurd, in one of them to bring up +old memories." + +Mrs. Thornton suddenly rose, and, walking to the window, looked out. "I +wonder if it will rain to-day!" she said, in a sweet voice, full of a +tremulous melancholy. + +"There are very dark clouds about," returned Despard, mournfully. + +"I hope there will not be a storm," she rejoined, with the same sadness. +Her hands were held tightly together. "Some things will perish if a +storm comes." + +"Let us pray that there may be calm and peace," said Despard. + +She turned and looked at him for a moment. Strange that these two should +pass so quickly from gayety to gloom! Their eyes met, and each read in +the face of the other sadness beyond words. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +TWO LETTERS. + +Despard did not go back to the Grange for some days. About a week had +passed since the scenes narrated in the preceding chapter when one +morning, having finished his breakfast, he went into his library and sat +down at the table to write. A litter of papers lay all around. The walls +were covered with shelves, filled with books. The table was piled high +with ponderous tomes. Manuscripts were strewn around, and books were +scattered on the floor. Yet, amidst all this disorder, some order was +apparent, for many of these books lay open in certain places, and others +were arranged so as to be within reach. + +Several sheets of paper, covered with writing, lay before him, headed, +"The Byzantine Poets." The books were all in Greek. It was the library +of a hard-working student. + +Very different was the Despard of the library from the Despard who had +visited the Grange. A stern and thoughtful expression was read in his +face, and his eyes had an abstraction which would have done credit to +Mr. Thornton himself. + +Taking his seat at the table, he remained for a while leaning his head +on his hand in deep thought. Then he took up a pen and drew a piece of +paper before him to try it. He began to draw upon it the same figure +which he had marked with his cane on Mrs. Thornton's carpet. He traced +this figure over and over, until at last the whole sheet was covered. + +Suddenly he flung down the pen, and, taking up the paper, leaned back +in his chair with a melancholy face. "What a poor, weak thing I am!" +he muttered at last, and let the paper fall to the floor. He leaned +his head on his hand, then resumed his pen and began to make some idle +marks. At length he began to draw. + +Under the fine and delicate strokes of his pen, which were as neat +and as exquisite as the most subtle touches of an engraving, a picture +gradually rose to view. It was a sea-side scene. The place was +Holby Beach. In the distance was the light-house; and on one side a +promontory, which protected the harbor. Upon the shore, looking out +toward the sea, was a beautiful girl, of about sixteen years of age, +whose features, as they grew beneath his tender touches, were those of +Mrs. Thornton. Then beside her there gradually rose another figure, +a youth of about eighteen, with smooth face and clustering locks, who +looked exactly like what the Rev. Courtenay Despard might have been some +seven or eight years before. His left arm was around her waist, her +arm was thrown up till it touched his shoulder, and his right hand held +hers. Her head leaned against him, and both of them, with a subdued +expression of perfect happiness, tinged with a certain pensive sadness, +were looking out upon the setting sun. + +As soon as he finished he looked at the sketch, and then, with a sudden +impulse, tore it into a thousand small fragments. He drew the written +manuscript before him with a long and deep-drawn sigh, and began writing +with great rapidity upon the subject of the Byzantine Poets. He had just +written the following words: + +"The Anacreontic hymns of John Damascenus form a marked contrast to--" +when the sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in!" It +was the servant with letters from the post-office. Despard put down his +pen gravely, and the man laid two letters on the table. He waited +till the servant had departed, then seizing one of them, a small one, +addressed in a lady's hand, he pressed it vehemently to his lips and +tore it open. + +It was as follows: + +[Illustration: "BOTH WERE LOOKING OUT UPON THE SETTING SUN."] + +"DEAR MR. DESPARD,--I suppose I may _never_ expect to see you again. Yet +I must see you, for yesterday I received a very long letter from Paolo +of so singular a character that you will have to explain it to me. I +shall expect you this afternoon, and till then, I remain, + +"Yours sincerely, + +"TERESA THORNTON. + +"THORNTON GRANGE, Friday." + +Despard read this letter a score of times, and placed it reverently +in an inner drawer of his desk. He then opened the other, and read as +follows: + +"HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 12, 1847. + +"MY DEAR COURTENAY,--I was very glad to hear of your appointment as +Rector of Holby, your old home, and hope that by this time you are fully +established in the old Rectory, where you spent so many years. I was +there often enough in poor old Carson's days to know that it was a fine +old place. + +"You will see by this that I am in Halifax, Nova Scotia. My regiment was +ordered off here last November, and I am just beginning to feel settled. +It is not so cold here as it was in Quebec. There is capital moose +hunting up the country. I don't admire my accommodations much; but it is +not a bad little town, considering all things. The people are pleasant, +and there is some stir and gayety occasionally. + +"Not long before leaving Quebec, who do you think turned up? No less a +person than Paolo Langhetti, who in the course of his wanderings came +out there. He had known some extraordinary adventures on his voyage out; +and these are the immediate cause of this letter. + +"He took passage early in June last in the ship _Tecumseh_, from +Liverpool for Quebec. It was an emigrant ship, and crammed with +passengers. You have heard all about the horrors of that middle passage, +which occurred last year, when those infernal Liverpool merchants, for +the sake of patting a few additional pounds in their pockets, sent so +many thousands to destruction. + +"The _Tecumseh_ was one of these. It was crammed with emigrants. You +know Langhetti's extraordinary pluck, and his queer way of devoting +himself for others. Well, what did he do but this: as soon as the +ship-fever broke out he left the cabin and took up his abode in the +steerage with the sick emigrants. He is very quiet about this, and +merely says that he helped to nurse the sick. I know what that means. + +"The mortality was terrific. Of all the ships that came to Quebec on +that fatal summer the _Tecumseh_ showed the largest record of deaths. On +reaching the quarantine station Langhetti at once insisted on continuing +his attendance on the sick. Hands were scarce, and his offer was +eagerly accepted. He staid down there ever so long till the worst of the +sickness was over. + +"Among the passengers on the _Tecumseh_ were three who belonged to the +superior class. Their names were Brandon. He took a deep interest in +them. They suffered very much from sickness both during the voyage and +at quarantine. The name at once attracted him, being one well known both +to him and to us. At last they all died, or were supposed to have died, +at the quarantine station. Langhetti, however, found that one of them +was only in a 'trance state,' and his efforts for resuscitation were +successful. This one was a young girl of not more than sixteen years of +age. After her restoration he left the quarantine bringing her with him, +and came up to the city. Here he lived for a month or so, until at last +he heard of me and came to see me. + +"Of course I was delighted to see him, for I always thought him the +noblest fellow that ever breathed, though most undoubtedly cranky if +not crazy. I told him we were going to Halifax, and as he had no settled +plan I made him come here with me. + +"The girl remained for a long time in a state of mental torpor, as +though her brain had been affected by disease, but the journey here +had a beneficial effect on her, and during her stay she has steadily +improved. About a week ago Langhetti ventured to ask her all about +herself. + +"What will you say when I tell you that she is the daughter of poor +Ralph Brandon, of Brandon Hall, your father's friend, whose wretched +fate has made us all so miserable. You know nothing of this, of course; +but where was Thornton? Why did not he do something to prevent this +horror, this unutterable calamity? Good God! what suffering there is in +this world! + +"Now, Courtenay, I come to the point. This poor Edith Brandon, still +half-dead from her grief, has been able to tell us that she has still a +relative living. Her eldest brother Louis went to Australia many years +ago. A few weeks before her father's death he wrote to his son telling +him everything, and imploring him to come home. She thinks that her +brother must be in England by this time. + +"I want you to hunt up Louis Brandon. Spare no trouble. In the name of +God, and by the memory of your father, whose most intimate friend was +this poor old Brandon, I entreat you to search after Louis Brandon till +you find him, and let him know the fate of his friends. I think if +she could see him the joy of meeting one relative would restore her to +health. + +"My boy, I know I have said enough. Your own heart will impel you to do +all that can be done for the sake of this poor young girl. You can find +out the best ways of learning information. You had better go up at once +to London and make arrangements for finding Brandon. Write me soon, and +let me know. + +"Your affectionate uncle, + +"HENRY DESPARD." + +Despard read this letter over and over. Then he put it in his pocket, +and walked up and down the room in deep thought. Then he took out Mrs. +Thornton's note and studied it for a long time. So the hours passed +away, until at length two o'clock came and he set out for Thornton +Grange. + +On entering the drawing-room, Mrs. Thornton was there. + +"So you have come at last," said she, as they shook hands. + +"As if I would not come ten times a day if I could," was the answer, in +an impetuous voice. + +"Still there is no reason why you should persistently avoid the Grange." + +"What would you say if I followed my own impulse, and came here every +day?" + +"I would say, Good-morning, Sir. Still, now that you are here, you must +stay." + +"I will stay, whether I must or not." + +"Have you recovered from the effect of my prayer-book yet?" + +"No, nor ever will I. You brought the same one last Sunday." + +"That was in order to weaken the effect. Familiarity breeds contempt, +you know." + +"Then all I can say is, that contempt has very extraordinary +manifestations. Among other strange things, it makes me cover my paper +with that pattern when I ought to be writing on the Mosaic Economy." + +"Cosmogony, you mean." + +"Well, then, Cosmogony." + +"Cosmogony is such a delicious word! It has been the hope of my life to +be able to introduce it in a conversation. There is only one other word +that compares with it." + +"What is it?" + +"I am afraid to pronounce it." + +"Try, at any rate." + +"Idiosyncrasy," said Mrs. Thornton. "For five or six years I have been +on the look-out for an opportunity to use that word, and thus far I have +been unsuccessful. I fear that if the opportunity did occur I would call +it 'idiocracy.' In fact, I know I would." + +"And what would be the difference? Your motive would be right, and it is +to motives that we must look, not acts." + +After some further badinage, Mrs. Thornton drew a letter from her +pocket. + +"Here," said she, gravely, "is Paolo's letter. Read it, and tell me what +you think of it." + +Despard took the letter and began to read, while Mrs. Thornton, sitting +opposite to him, watched his face. + +The letter was in Italian, and was accompanied by a large and +closely-written manuscript of many pages. + +"HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 2, 1847. + +"MY SWEETEST LITTLE SISTER,--I send you my diary, as I promised you, my +Teresella, and you will see all my adventures. Take care of yourself, +be happy, and let us hope that we may see one another soon. I am well, +through the mercy of the good God, and hope to continue so. There is no +such thing as music in this place, but I have found an organ where I +can play. My Cremona is uninjured, though it has passed through hard +times--it sends a note of love to my Teresina. Remember your Paolo to +the just and upright Thornton, whom you love. May God bless my little +sister's husband, and fill his heart with love for the sweetest of +children! + +"Read this manuscript carefully, Teresuola mia dolcissima, and pray for +the souls of those unhappy ones who perished by the pestilence." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. + +Liverpool, June 2, 1840.--I promised you, my Teresina, to keep a diary +of all my wanderings, and now I begin, not knowing whether it will be +worth reading or not, but knowing this: that my corellina will read it +all with equal interest, whether it be trivial or important. + +I have taken passage in the ship _Tecumseh_ from Liverpool to Quebec. +I have embarked in her for no better reason than this, that she is the +first that will sail, and I am impatient. The first New York ship does +not leave for a fortnight. A fortnight in Liverpool! Horror! + +I have been on board to secure my room. I am told that there is a large +number of emigrants. It is a pity, but it can not be helped. All ships +have emigrants now. Ireland is being evacuated. There will soon be no +peasants to till the soil. What enormous misery must be in that most +wretched of countries! Is Italy worse? Yes, far worse; for Italy has a +past to contrast with the present, whereas Ireland has no past. + +At Sea, June 4.--We are many miles out in the Irish Channel. There are +six hundred emigrants on board--men, women, and children. I am told that +most of these are from Ireland, unhappy Ireland! Some are from England, +and are going to seek their fortune in America. As I look on them I +think, My God! what misery there is in this world! And yet what can I do +to alleviate it? I am helpless. Let the world suffer. All will be right +hereafter. + +June 10.--Six hundred passengers! They are all crowded together in a +manner that is frightful to me. Comfort is out of the question; the +direst distress is every where present; the poor wretches only try +to escape suffering. During storms they are shut in; there is little +ventilation; and the horror that reigns in that hold will not let me +either eat or sleep. I have remonstrated with the captain, but without +effect. He told me that he could do nothing. The owners of the ship +put them on board, and he was employed to take them to their proper +destination. My God! what will become of them? + +June 15.--There have been a few days of fine weather. The wretched +emigrants have all been on deck. Among them I noticed three who, from +their appearance, belonged to a different class. There was a lady with +a young man and a young girl, who were evidently her children. The lady +has once been beautiful, and still bears the traces of that beauty, +though her face indicates the extreme of sadness. The son is a man of +magnificent appearance, though as yet not full-grown. The daughter is +more lovely than any being whom I have ever seen. She is different from +my Bicetta. Bice is Grecian, with a face like that of a marble statue, +and a soul of purely classic mould. Bice is serene. She reminds me of +Artemis. Bice is an artist to her inmost heart. Bice I love as I +love you, my Teresina, and I never expect to meet with one who can +so interpret my ideas with so divine a voice. But this girl is more +spiritual. Bice is classic, this one is medieval. Bice is a goddess, +this one a saint. Bice is Artemis, or one of the Muses; this one is Holy +Agnes or Saint Cecilia. There is in that sweet and holy face the same +depth of devotion which our painters portray on the face of the +Madonna. This little family group stand amidst all the other passengers, +separated by the wide gulf of superior rank, for they are manifestly +from among the upper classes, but still more so by the solemn isolation +of grief. It is touching to see the love of the mother for her children, +and the love of the children for their mother. How can I satisfy the +longings which I feel to express to them my sympathy? + +June 21.--I have at length gained my desire. I have become acquainted +with that little group. I went up to them this morning in obedience to +a resistless impulse, and with the most tender sympathy that I could +express; and, with many apologies, offered the young man a bottle +of wine for his mother. He took it gratefully and frankly. He met me +half-way in my advances. The poor lady looked at me with speechless +gratitude, as though kindness and sympathy were unknown to her. "God +will reward you, Sir," she said, in a tremulous voice, "for your +sympathy with the miserable." + +"Dear Madame," said I, "I wish no other reward than the consciousness +that I may have alleviated your distress." + +My heart bled for these poor creatures. Cast down from a life which must +have once been one of luxury, they were now in the foulest of places, +the hold of an emigrant ship. I went back to the captain to see if I +could not do something in their behalf. I wished to give up my room to +them. He said I could do so if I wished, but that there was no room +left in the cabin. Had there been I would have hired one and insisted on +their going there. + +I went to see the lady, and made this proposal as delicately as I could. +There were two berths in my room. I urged her and her daughter to +take them. At first they both refused most positively, with tears of +gratitude. But I would not be so put off. To the mother I portrayed +the situation of the daughter in that den of horror; to the daughter +I pointed out the condition of the mother; to the son I showed the +position of his mother and sister, and thus I worked upon the holiest +feelings of their hearts. For myself I assured them that I could get a +place among the sailors in the forecastle, and that I preferred doing +so. By such means as these I moved them to consent. They did so with an +expression of thankfulness that brought tears to my eyes. + +"Dear Madame," said I, "you will break my heart if you talk so. Take the +room and say nothing. I have been a wanderer for years, and can live any +where." + +It was not till then that I found out their names. I told them mine. +They looked at one another in astonishment. "Langhetti?" said the +mother. + +"Yes." + +"Did you ever live in Holby?" + +"Yes. My father was organist in Trinity Church, and I and my sister +lived there some years. She lives there still." + +"My God!" was her ejaculation. + +"Why?" I asked, with eager curiosity. "What do you know about Holby, and +about Langhetti?" + +She looked at me with solemn earnestness. "I," said she, "am the wife, +and these are the children of one who was your father's friend. He who +was my husband, and the father of these children, was Ralph Brandon, of +Brandon Hall." + +I stood for a moment stupefied. Then I burst into tears. Then I embraced +them all, and said I know not what of pity and sympathy and affection. +My God! to think of such a fate as this awaiting the family of Ralph +Brandon. Did you know this, oh, Teresina? If so, why did you keep it +secret? But no--you could not have known it. If you had this would not +have happened. + +They took my room in the cabin--the dear ones--Mrs. Brandon and the +sweet Edith. The son Frank and I stay together among the emigrants. Here +I am now, and I write this as the sun is getting low, and the uproar of +all these hundreds is sounding in my ears. + +June 30.--There is a panic in the ship. The dread pestilence known as +"ship-fever" has appeared. This disease is the terror of emigrant ships. +Surely there was never any vessel so well adapted to be the prey of the +pestilence as this of ours! I have lived for ten days among the steerage +passengers, and have witnessed their misery. Is God just? Can he look +down unmoved upon scenes like these? Now that the disease has come, +where will it stop? + +July 3.--The disease is spreading. Fifteen are prostrate. Three have +died. + +July 10.--Thirty deaths have occurred, and fifty are sick. I am +assisting to nurse them. + +July 15.--Thirty-four deaths since my last. One hundred and thirty are +sick. I will labor here if I have to die for it. + +July 18.--If this is my last entry let this diary be sent to Mrs. +Thornton, care of William Thornton, Holby, Pembroke, England--(the +above entry was written in English, the remainder was all in Italian, +as before). More than two hundred are sick. Frank Brandon is down. I am +afraid to let his mother know it. I am working night and day. In three +days there have been forty-seven deaths. The crew are demoralized and +panic-stricken. + +July 23.--Shall I survive these horrors? More than fifty new deaths have +occurred. The disease has spread among the sailors. Two are dead, and +seven are sick. Horror prevails. Frank Brandon is recovering slowly. +Mrs. Brandon does not know that he has been sick. We send word that we +are afraid to come for fear of communicating the disease to her and to +Edith. + +July 27.--More than half of the sailors are sick. Eleven dead. +Sixty-seven passengers dead since last report. Frank Brandon almost +well, and helping me in my work. + +July 30.--Nearly all the sailors more or less sick--five new deaths +among them. Ship almost unmanageable. In the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Talk +of putting into some port. Seventy passengers dead. + +August 2.--Worse yet. Disease has spread into the cabin. Three cabin +passengers dead. God have mercy upon poor Mrs. Brandon and sweet Edith! +All the steerage passengers, with a few exceptions, prostrate. Frank +Brandon is weak but helps me. I work night and day. The ship is like a +floating pest-house. Forty new deaths since last report. + +August 7.--Drifting along, I know not how, up the St. Lawrence. The +weather calm, and two or three sailors able to manage the ship. Captain +and mate both dead. Ten cabin passengers dead. Three more sailors dead. +Only thirty-two steerage passengers dead since last report, but nearly +all are sick. Hardly any one to attend to them. + +August 10.--Mrs. Brandon and Edith both sick. Frank prostrate again. God +in heaven, have mercy! + +August 15.--Mrs. Brandon and Edith very low. Frank better. + +August 16.--Quarantine Station, Gosse Island. I feel the fever in my +veins. If I die, farewell, sweetest sister. + +December 28, Halifax, Nova Scotia.--More than four months have elapsed +since my last entry, and during the interval marvelous things have +occurred. These I will now try to recall as I best can. + +My last entry was made on the day of the arrival of the _Tecumseh_ at +the Quarantine Station, Gosse Island, Quebec. We were delayed there +for two days. Every thing was in confusion. A large number of ships had +arrived, and all were filled with sick. The authorities were taken by +surprise; and as no arrangements had ever been made for such a state of +things the suffering was extreme. The arrival of the _Tecumseh_ with +her frightful record of deaths, and with several hundred sick still +on board, completed the confusion. At last the passengers were removed +somehow, I know not how or when, for I myself on the evening of our +arrival was struck down by the fever. I suppose that Frank Brandon may +have nursed me at first; but of that I am not sure. There was fearful +disorder. There were few nurses and fewer doctors; and as fast as the +sick died they were hurried hastily into shallow graves in the sand. I +was sick for two or three weeks, and knew nothing of what was going on. +The first thing that I saw on coming to my senses was Edith Brandon. + +She was fearfully changed. Unutterable grief dwelt upon her sweet young +face, which also was pale and wan from the sickness through which she +had passed. An awful feeling shot through me. My first question was, "Is +your mother on shore?" + +She looked at me for a moment in solemn silence, and, slowly raising her +hand, pointed upward. + +"Your brother?" I gasped. + +She turned her head away. I was silent. They were dead, then. O God! +and this child--what had she not been suffering? My mind at once, in its +agony of sympathy with her, burst through the clouds which sickness had +thrown around it. "Poor child!" I said. "And why are you here?" + +"Where else can I go?" she answered, mournfully. + +"At least, you should not wear yourself out by my bedside." + +"You are the only one left whom I know. I owe you far more than the +small attendance which I have given you." + +"But will you not take some rest?" + +"Hush! Wait till you are stronger. You are too weak now to think of +these things." + +She laid her thin hand on my forehead gently. I turned my head away, and +burst into a flood of tears. Why was it that this child was called upon +to endure such agony? Why, in the midst of that agony, did she come to +me to save my life? I did not resist her any longer on that day; but the +next day I was stronger, and made her go and repose herself. + +For two successive days she came back. On the third day she did not +appear. The fourth day also she was absent. Rude nurses attended to me. +They knew nothing of her. My anxiety inspired me with such energy that +on the fourth day I rose from my bed and staggered about to find her if +possible. + +All was still confusion. Thousands of sick were on the island. The +mistake of the first week had not yet been repaired. No one knew any +thing of Edith. I sought her through all the wards. I went to the +superintendent, and forced him to make inquiries about her. No one could +tell any thing. + +My despair was terrible. I forced the superintendent to call up all the +nurses and doctors, and question them all, one by one. At last an +old Irish woman, with an awful look at me, hinted that she could tell +something about her, and whispered a word or two in the superintendent's +ear. He started back, with a fearful glance. + +"What is it? Tell, in God's name!" + +"The dead-house," he murmured. + +"Where is it? Take me there!" I cried to the woman. I clutched her arm +and staggered after her. + +It was a long, low shed, open on all sides. Twelve bodies lay there. In +the middle of the row was Edith. She was more beautiful than an angel. +A smile wreathed her lips; her eyes looked as though she slumbered. +I rushed up to her and caught her in my arms. The next moment I fell +senseless. + +When I revived I was lying in one of the sick-sheds, with a crowd of +sufferers around me. I had only one thought, and that was Edith. I rose +at once, weak and trembling, but the resolve of my soul gave strength to +my body. An awful fear had taken possession of me, which was accompanied +by a certain wild hope. I hurried, with staggering feet, to the +dead-house. + +All the bodies were gone. New ones had come in. + +"Where is she?" I cried to the old woman who had charge there. She knew +to whom I referred. + +"Buried," said she. + +I burst out into a torrent of imprecations. "Where have they buried her? +Take me to the place!" I cried, as I flung a piece of gold to the woman. +She grasped it eagerly. "Bring a spade, and come quick, for God's sake! +_She is not dead!_" + +How did I have such a mad fancy? I will tell you. This ship-fever often +terminates in a sort of stupor, in which death generally takes place. +Sometimes, however, the patient who has fallen into this stupor revives +again. It is known to the physicians as the "trance state." I had seen +cases of this at sea. Several times people were thrown overboard when I +thought that they did not have all the signs of death, and at last, in +two cases of which I had charge, I detained the corpses three days, in +spite of the remonstrances of the other passengers. _These two revived._ +By this I knew that some of those who were thrown overboard were not +dead. Did I feel horror at this, my Teresa? No. "Pass away," I said, +"unhappy ones. You are not dead. You live in a better life than this. +What matters it whether you died by the fever or by the sea?" + +But when I saw Edith as she lay there my soul felt assured that she +was not dead, and an unutterable convulsion of sorrow overwhelmed me. +Therefore I fainted. The horror of that situation was too much for +me. To think of that angelic girl about to be covered up alive in the +ground; to think of that sweet young life, which had begun so brightly, +terminating amidst such black darkness! + +"Now God help me!" I cried, as I hurried on after the woman; "and bring +me there in time." There! Where? To the place of the dead. It was there +that I had to seek her. + +"How long had she been in that house before I fainted?" I asked, +fearfully. + +"Twenty-four hours." + +"And when did I faint?" + +"Yesterday." + +A pang shot through me. "Tell me," I cried, hoarsely, "when she was +buried." + +"Last night." + +"O God!" I groaned, and I could say no more; but with new strength given +to me in that hour of agony I rushed on. + +It was by the eastern shore of the island. A wide flat was there, washed +on one side by the river. Here more than a thousand mounds arose. Alas! +could I ever hope to find her! + +"Do you know where they have laid her?" I asked, tremblingly. + +"Yes," said the woman, confidently. + +Hope returned faintly. She led the way. + +The moon beamed out brightly from behind a cloud, illumining the waste +of mounds. The river murmured solemnly along the shore. All my senses +were overwhelmed in the madness of that hour. The moon seemed enlarged +to the dimensions of a sky; the murmur of the river sounded like a +cataract, and in the vast murmur I heard voices which seemed then like +the voices of the dead. But the lustre of that exaggerated glow, and the +booming concord of fancied spirit-voices were all contemned as trifles. +I cared for nothing either natural or supernatural. Only one thought was +present--the place where she was laid. + +We reached it at last. At the end of a row of graves we stopped. "Here," +said the woman, "are twelve graves. These were made last night. These +are those twelve which you saw." + +"And where--where, O God, is SHE!" + +"There," replied the woman, pointing to one which was the third from the +end. + +"Do not deceive me!" I cried, imploringly. "Are you sure? For I will +tear up all these till I find her." + +"I am sure, for I was the one who buried her. I and a man--" + +I seized the spade and turned up the soil. I labored incessantly for +what seemed an endless period. I had thrown out much earth but had not +yet reached her. I felt my fitful strength failing me. My mind, too, +seemed entering into a state of delirium. At last my knees gave way, and +I sank down just as my spade touched something which gave back a hollow +sound. + +My knees gave way, and I sank down. But I would not give up. I tore up +handfuls of earth and threw them into the air. + +"Oh, Edith!" I cried, "I am here! I am coming! I am coming!" + +"Come, Sir," said the woman, suddenly, in her strong voice, yet +pityingly. "You can do nothing. I will dig her out in a minute." + +[Illustration: "I TOOK HER IN MY ARMS AND BROUGHT HER FORTH FROM THE +GRAVE," ETC.] + +"God forever bless you!" I cried, leaping out and giving place to her. I +watched her as she threw out the earth. Hungrily I gazed, devouring that +dark aperture with my eyes till at last the rough boards appeared. + +Then I leaped down. I put my fingers at the edge and tore at it till +it gave way. The lid was only fastened with a few nails. My bleeding +fingers clutched it. It yielded to my frantic exertions. + +O my God! was there ever a sight on earth like that which now met my +eyes as I raised the lid and looked below? The moon, which was high in +the sky, streamed down directly into the narrow cell. It showed me the +one whom I sought. Its bright beams threw a lustre round that face which +was upturned toward me. Ah me! how white was that face; like the face of +some sleeping maiden carved in alabaster. Bathed in the moonbeams it lay +before me, all softened and refined and made pure; a face of unearthly +beauty. The dark hair caught the moon's rays, and encircled the head +like a crown of immortality. Still the eyes were closed as though in +slumber; still the lips were fixed into a smile. She lay as one who had +fallen into a deep, sweet sleep--as one who in that sleep has dreams, in +which are visions of more than earthly beauty, and scenes of more than +mortal happiness. + +Now it was with me as though at that unequaled vision I had drawn into +my inmost being some sudden stimulus--a certain rapture of newborn +strength; strength no longer fitful and spasmodic, but firm, well +fortified and well sustained. + +I took her in my arms and brought her forth from the grave into the life +of earth. + +Ah me! how light a thing was that frail and slender figure which had +been worn down by the unparalleled suffering through which she had +passed. This thought transfixed me with a pang of anguish--even awed the +rapture that I felt at clasping her in my arms. + +But now that I had her, where was I to seek for a place of shelter? I +turned to the woman and asked: "Is there any secluded place where she +may sleep undisturbed till she wakes--" + +"No, there is none but what is crowded with the sick and dying in all +this island." + +"I must have some place." + +"There is only one spot that is quiet." + +"What one?" + +"The dead-house." + +I shuddered. "No, not there. See," said I, and I handed her a piece of +gold. "Find me some place and you shall have still more." + +"Well," she said, hesitatingly, "I have the room where me and my man +live. I suppose we could give up that." + +"Take me there, then." + +"Shall I help you carry her?" + +"No," I answered, drawing back my pure Edith from her outstretched +hands. "No, I will carry her." + +The woman went on without a word. She led the way back to the low and +dismal sheds which lay there like a vast charnel-house, and thence to a +low hut some distance away from all, where she opened a door. She spoke +a few words to a man, who finally withdrew. A light was burning. A rude +cot was there. Here I laid the one whom I carried. + +"Come here," said I, "three times a day. I will pay you well for this." + +The woman left. All night long I watched. She lay unmoved and unchanged. +Where was her spirit wandering? Soared it among the splendors of some +far-off world? Lingered it amidst the sunshine of heavenly glory? Did +her seraphic soul move amidst her peers in the assemblage of the holy? +Was she straying amidst the trackless paths of ether with those whom she +had loved in life, and who had gone before? + +All night long I watched her as she lay with her marble face and her +changeless smile. There seemed to be communicated to me an influence +from her which opened the eyes of my spiritual sense; and my spirit +sought to force itself upon her far-off perceptions, that so it might +catch her notice and bring her back to earth. + +The morning dawned. There was no change. Mid-day came, and still there +was no change. I know not how it was, but the superintendent had heard +about the grave being opened, and found me in the hut. He tried to +induce me to give back to the grave the one whom I had rescued. +The horror of that request was so tremendous that it force me into +passionless calm. When I refused he threatened. At his menace I rejoined +in such language that he turned pale. + +"Murderer!" said I, sternly, "is it not enough that you have sent to the +grave many wretches who were not dead? Do you seek to send back to death +this single one whom I have rescued? Do you want all Canada and all the +world to ring with the account of the horrors done here, where people +are buried alive? See, she is not dead. She is only sleeping. And yet +you put her in the grave." + +"She is dead!" he cried, in mingled fear and anger--"and she must be +buried." + +"She is not dead," said I, sternly, as I glared on him out of my +intensity of anguish--"she is not dead: and if you try to send her to +death again you must first send me. She shall not pass to the grave +except over my corpse, and over the corpse of the first murderer that +dares to lay hands on her." + +He started back--he and those who were with him. "The man is mad," they +said. + +They left me in peace. I grow excited as I write. My hand trembles. Let +me be calm. + +She awoke that night. It was midnight, and all was still. She opened +her eyes suddenly, and looked full at me with an earnest and steadfast +stare. At last a long, deep-drawn sigh broke the stillness of that lone +chamber. + +"Back again"--she murmured, in a scarce audible voice--"among men, and +to earth. O friends of the Realm of Light, must I be severed from your +lofty communion!" + +As she spoke thus the anguish which I had felt at the grave was renewed. +"You have brought me back," said she, mournfully. + +"No," I returned, sadly--"not I. It was not God's will that you should +leave this life. He did not send death to you. You were sleeping, and I +brought you to this place." + +"I know all," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I heard all while my +spirit was away. I know where you found me." + +"I am weary," she said, after a silence. Her eyes closed again. But +this time the trance was broken. She slept with long, deep breathing, +interrupted by frequent sighs. I watched her through the long night. +At first fever came. Then it passed. Her sleep became calm, and she +slumbered like a weary child. + +Early in the morning the superintendent came, followed by a dozen armed +men. He entered with a frown. I met him with my hand upraised to hush +him, and led him gently to the bedside. + +"See," I whispered--"but for me she would have been BURIED ALIVE!" + +The man seemed frozen into dumbness. He stood ghastly white with horror, +thick drops started from his forehead, his teeth chattered, he staggered +away. He looked at me with a haunted face, such as belongs to one who +thinks he has seen a spirit. + +"Spare me," he faltered; "do not ruin me. God knows I have tried to do +my best!" + +I waved him off. "Leave me. You have nothing to fear." He turned away +with his white face, and departed in silence with his men. + +After a long sleep Edith waked again. She said nothing. I did not +wish her to speak. She lay awake, yet with closed eyes, thinking such +thoughts as belong to one, and to one alone, who had known what she had +known. + +I did not speak to her, for she was to me a holy being, not to be +addressed lightly. Yet she did not refuse nourishment, and grew +stronger, until at last I was able to have her moved to Quebec. There I +obtained proper accommodations for her and good nurses. + +I have told you what she was before this. Subsequently there came a +change. The nurses and the doctors called it a stupor. + +There was something in her face which inspired awe among all who saw +her. If it is the soul of man that gives expression to the features, +then her soul must have been familiar with things unknown to us. How +often have I seen her in walking across the room stop suddenly and stand +fixed on the spot, musing and sad! She commonly moved about as though +she saw nothing, as though she walked in a dream, with eyes half closed, +and sometimes murmuring inaudible words. The nurses half loved and half +feared her. Yet there were some little children in the house who felt +all love and no fear, for I have seen her smiling on them with a smile +so sweet that it seemed to me as if they stood in the presence of their +guardian angel. Strange, sad spirit, what thoughts, what memories are +these which make her life one long reverie, and have taken from her +all power to enjoy the beautiful that dwells on earth! She fills all my +thoughts with her loneliness, her tears, and her spiritual face, bearing +the marks of scenes that can never be forgotten. She lives and moves +amidst her recollections. What is it that so overwhelms all her +thoughts? That face of hers appears as though it had bathed itself in +the atmosphere of some diviner world than this: and her eyes seem as if +they may have gazed upon the Infinite Mystery. + +Now from the few words which she has casually dropped I gather this to +be her own belief. That when she fell into the state of trance her soul +was parted from her body, though still by an inexplicable sympathy she +was aware of what was passing around her lifeless form. Yet her soul +had gone forth into that spiritual world toward which we look from this +earth with such eager wonder. It had mingled there with the souls +of others. It had put forth new powers, and learned the use of new +faculties. Then that soul was called back to its body. + +This maiden--this wonder among mortals--is not a mortal, she is an +exiled soul. I have seen her sit with tears streaming down her face, +tears such as men shed in exile. For she is like a banished man who has +only one feeling, a longing, yearning homesickness. She has been once +in that radiant world for a time which we call three days in our +human calculations, but which to her seems indefinite; for as she once +said--and it is a pregnant thought, full of meaning--there is no time +there, all is infinite duration. The soul has illimitable powers; in an +instant it can live years, and she in those three days had the life of +ages. Her former life on earth has now but a faint hold upon her memory +in comparison with that life among the stars. The sorrow that her loved +ones endured has become eclipsed by the knowledge of the blessedness in +which she found them. + +Alas! it is a blessing to die, and it is only a curse to rise from the +dead. And now she endures this exile with an aching heart, with memories +that are irrepressible, with longings unutterable, and yearnings that +cannot be expressed for that starry world and that bright companionship +from which she has been recalled. So she sometimes speaks. And little +else can she say amidst her tears. Oh, sublime and mysterious exile, +could I but know what you know, and have but a small part of that secret +which you can not explain! + +For she can not tell what she witnessed _there_. She sometimes wishes to +do so, but can not. When asked directly, she sinks into herself and is +lost in thought. She finds no words. It is as when we try to explain to +a man who has been always blind the scenes before our eyes. We can not +explain them to such a man. And so with her. She finds in her memory +things which no human language has been made to express. These languages +were made for the earth, not for heaven. In order to tell me what she +knows, she would need the language of that world, and then she could not +explain it, for I could not understand it. + +Only once I saw her smile, and that was when one of the nurses casually +mentioned, with horror, the death of some acquaintance. "Death!" she +murmured, and her eyes lighted up with a kind of ecstasy. "Oh, that I +might die!" She knows no blessing on earth except that which we +consider a curse, and to her the object of all her wishes is this one +thing--Death. I shall not soon forget that smile. It seemed of itself to +give a new meaning to death. + +Do I believe this, so wild a theory, the very mention of which has +carried me beyond myself? I do not know. All my reason rebels. It scouts +the monstrous idea. But here she stands before me, with her memories +and thoughts, and her wonderful words, few, but full of deepest +meaning--words which I shall never forget--and I recognize something +before which Reason falters. Whence this deep longing of hers? Why when +she thinks of death does her face grow thus radiant, and her eyes kindle +with hope? Why does she so pine and grow sick with desire? Why does +her heart thus ache as day succeeds to day, and she finds herself still +under the sunlight, with the landscapes and the music of this fair earth +still around her? + +Once, in some speculations of mine, which I think I mentioned to you, +Teresina, I thought that if a man could reach that spiritual world he +would look with contempt upon the highest charms that belong to this. +Here is one who believes that she has gone through this experience, and +all this earth, with all its beauty, is now an object of indifference to +her. Perhaps you may ask, Is she sane? Yes, dear, as sane as I am, but +with a profounder experience and a diviner knowledge. + +After I had been in Quebec about a month I learned that one of the +regiments stationed here was commanded by Colonel Henry Despard. I +called on him, and he received me with unbounded delight. He made me +tell him all about myself, and I imparted to him as much of the events +of the voyage and quarantine as was advisable. I did not go into +particulars to any extent, of course. I mentioned nothing about _the +grave_. That, dearest sister, is a secret between you, and me, and +her. For if it should be possible that she should ever be restored to +ordinary human sympathy and feeling, it will not be well that all the +world should know what has happened to her. + +His regiment was ordered to Halifax, and I concluded to comply with his +urgent solicitations and accompany him. It is better for _her_ at any +rate that there should be more friends than one to protect her. Despard, +like the doctors, supposes that she is in a stupor. + +The journey here exercised a favorable influence over her. Her strength +increased to a marked degree, and she has once or twice spoken about the +past. She told me that her father wrote to his son Louis in Australia +some weeks before his death, and urged him to come home. She thinks that +he is on his way to England. The Colonel and I at once thought that he +ought to be sought after without delay, and he promised to write to +his nephew, your old playmate, who, he tells me, is to be a neighbor of +yours. + +If he is still the one whom I remember--intellectual yet spiritual, with +sound reason, yet a strong heart, if he is still the Courtenay Despard +who, when a boy, seemed to me to look out upon the world before him with +such lofty poetic enthusiasm--then, Teresella, you should show him this +diary, for it will cause him to understand things which he ought to +know. I suppose it would be unintelligible to Mr. Thornton, who is a +most estimable man, but who, from the nature of his mind, if he read +this, would only conclude that the writer was insane. + +At any rate, Mr. Thornton should be informed of the leading facts, so +that he may see if something can be done to alleviate the distress, or +to avenge the wrongs of one whose father was the earliest benefactor of +his family. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +HUSBAND AND WIFE. + +"It is now the middle of February," said Despard, after a long pause, in +which he had given himself up to the strange reflections which the diary +was calculated to excite. "If Louis Brandon left Australia when he was +called he must be in England now." + +"You are calm," said Mrs. Thornton. "Have you nothing more to say than +that?" + +Despard looked at her earnestly. "Do you ask me such a question? It is +a story so full of anguish that the heart might break out of pure +sympathy, but what words could be found? I have nothing to say. I am +speechless. My God! what horror thou dost permit!" + +"But something must be done," said Mrs. Thornton, impetuously. + +"Yes," said Despard, slowly, "but what? If we could reach our hands over +the grave and bring back those who have passed away, then the soul of +Edith might find peace; but now--now--we can give her no peace. She only +wishes to die. Yet something must be done, and the first thing is to +find Louis Brandon. I will start for London to-night. I will go and seek +him, not for Edith's sake but for his own, that I may save one at least +of this family. For her there is no comfort. Our efforts are useless +there. If we could give her the greatest earthly happiness it would be +poor and mean, and still she would sigh after that starry companionship +from which her soul has been withdrawn." + +"Then you believe it." + +"Don't you?" + +"Of course; but I did not know that you would." + +"Why not? and if I did not believe it this at least would be plain, +that she herself believes it. And even if it be a hallucination, it is +a sublime one, and so vivid that it is the same to her as a reality. Let +it be only a dream that has taken place--still that dream has made all +other things dim, indistinct, and indifferent to her." + +"No one but you would read Paolo's diary without thinking him insane." + +Despard smiled. "Even that would be nothing to me. Some people think +that a great genius must be insane. + + 'Great wits are sure to madness near allied,' + +you know. For my part, I consider Paolo the sublimest of men. When I saw +him last I was only a boy, and he came with his seraphic face and his +divine music to give me an inspiration which has biased my life ever +since. I have only known one spirit like his among those whom I have +met." + +An indescribable sadness passed over his face. "But now," he continued, +suddenly, "I suppose Thornton must see my uncle's letter. His legal +mind may discern some things which the law may do in this case. Edith is +beyond all consolation from human beings, and still farther beyond all +help from English law. But if Louis Brandon can be found the law may +exert itself in his favor. In this respect be may be useful, and I have +no doubt he would take up the case earnestly, out of his strong sense of +justice." + +When Thornton came in to dinner Despard handed him his uncle's letter. +The lawyer read it with deep attention, and without a word. + +Mrs. Thornton looked agitated--sometimes resting her head on her hand, +at others looking fixedly at her husband. As soon as he had finished she +said, in a calm, measured tone: + +"I did not know before that Brandon of Brandon Hall and all his family +had perished so miserably." + +Thornton started, and looked at her earnestly. She returned his gaze +with unutterable sadness in her eyes. + +"He saved my father's life," said she. "He benefited him greatly. Your +father also was under slight obligations to him. I thought that things +like these constituted a faint claim on one's gratitude, so that if +one were exposed to misfortune he might not be altogether destitute of +friends." + +Thornton looked uneasy as his wife spoke. + +"My dear," said he, "you do not understand." + +"True," she answered; "for this thing is almost incredible. If my +father's friend has died in misery, unpitied and unwept, forsaken by +all, do I not share the guilt of ingratitude? How can I absolve myself +from blame?" + +"Set your mind at rest. You never knew any thing about it. I told you +nothing on the subject." + +"Then you knew it!" + +"Stop! You can not understand this unless I explain it. You are stating +bald facts; but these facts, painful as they are, are very much modified +by circumstances." + +"Well, then, I hope you will tell me all, without reserve, for I wish to +know how it is that this horror has happened, and I have stood idly and +coldly aloof. My God!" she cried, in Italian; "did _he_ not--did _they_ +not in their last moments think of me, and wonder how they could have +been betrayed by Langhetti's daughter!" + +"My dear, be calm, I pray. You are blaming yourself unjustly, I assure +you." + +Despard was ghastly pale as this conversation went on. He turned his +face away. + +"Ralph Brandon," began Thornton, "was a man of many high qualities, +but of unbounded pride, and utterly impracticable. He was no judge +of character, and therefore was easily deceived. He was utterly +inexperienced in business, and he was always liable to be led astray +by any sudden impulse. Somehow or other a man named Potts excited +his interest about twelve or fifteen years ago. He was a mere vulgar +adventurer; but Brandon became infatuated with him, and actually +believed that this man was worthy to be intrusted with the management +of large business transactions. The thing went on for years. His friends +all remonstrated with him. I, in particular, went there to explain to +him that the speculation in which he was engaged could not result in any +thing except loss. But he resented all interference, and I had to leave +him to himself. + +"His son Louis was a boy full of energy and fire. The family were all +indignant at the confidence which Ralph Brandon put in this Potts--Louis +most of all. One day he met Potts. Words passed between them, and Louis +struck the scoundrel. Potts complained. Brandon had his son up on the +spot; and after listening to his explanations gave him the alternative +either to apologise to Potts or to leave the house forever. Louis +indignantly denounced Potts to his father as a swindler. Brandon ordered +him to his room, and gave him a week to decide. + +"The servants whispered till the matter was noised abroad. The county +gentry had a meeting about it, and felt so strongly that they did an +unparalleled thing. They actually waited on him to assure him that Potts +was unworthy of trust, and to urge him not to treat his son so harshly. +All Brandon's pride was roused at this. He said words to the deputation +which cut him off forever from their sympathy, and they left in a rage. +Mrs. Brandon wrote to me, and I went there. I found Brandon inflexible. +I urged him to give his son a longer time, to send him to the army for +a while, to do any thing rather than eject him. He refused to change his +sentence. Then I pointed out the character of Potts, and told him many +things that I had heard. At this he hinted that I wished to have the +management of his business, and was actuated by mercenary motive. Of +course, after this insult, nothing more was to be said. I went home and +tried to forget all about the Brandons. At the end of the week Louis +refused to apologize, and left his father forever." + +"Did you see Louis?" + +"I saw him before that insult to ask if he would apologize." + +"Did you try to make him apologize?" asked Mrs. Thornton, coldly. + +"Yes. But he looked at me with such an air that I had to apologize +myself for hinting at such a thing. He was as inflexible as his father." + +"How else could he have been?" + +"Well, each might have yielded a little. It does not do to be so +inflexible if one would succeed in life." + +"No," said Mrs. Thornton. "Success must be gained by flexibility. The +martyrs were all inflexible, and they were all unsuccessful." + +Thornton looked at his wife hastily. Despard's hand trembled, and his +face grew paler still with a more livid pallor. + +"Did you try to do any thing for the ruined son?" + +"How could I, after that insult?" + +"Could you not have got him a government office, or purchased a +commission for him in the army?" + +"He would not have taken it from me." + +"You could have co-operated with his mother, and done it in her name." + +"I could not enter the house after being insulted." + +"You could have written. From what I have heard of Brandon, he was just +the man who would have blessed any one who would interpose to save his +son." + +"His son did not wish to be saved. He has all his father's +inflexibility, but an intellect as clear as that of the most practical +man. He has a will of iron, dauntless resolution, and an implacable +temper. At the same time he has the open generosity and the tender heart +of his father." + +"Had his father a tender heart?" + +"So tender and affectionate that this sacrifice of his son must have +overwhelmed him with the deepest sorrow." + +"Did you ever after make any advances to any of them?" + +"No, never. I never went near the house." + +"Did you ever visit any of the county gentry to see if something could +be done?" + +"No. It would have been useless. Besides, the very mention of his name +would have been resented. I should have had to fling myself headlong +against the feelings of the whole public. And no man has any right to do +that." + +"No," said Mrs. Thornton. "No man has. That was another mistake that the +martyrs made. They would fling themselves against public opinion." + +"All men can not be martyrs. Besides, the cases are not analogous." + +Thornton spoke calmly and dispassionately. + +"True. It is absurd in me; but I admire one who has for a moment +forgotten his own interests or safety in thinking of others." + +"That does very well for poetry, but not in real life." + +"In _real life_, such as that on board the _Tecumseh_?" murmured Mrs. +Thornton, with drooping eyelids. + +"You are getting excited, my dear," said Thornton, patiently, with the +air of a wise father who overlooks the petulance of his child. "I +will go on. I had business on the Continent when poor Brandon's ruin +occurred. You were with me, my dear, at Berlin when I heard about it. I +felt shocked, but not surprised. I feared that it would come to that." + +"You showed no emotion in particular." + +"No; I was careful not to trouble you." + +"You were in Berlin three months. Was it at the beginning or end of your +stay?" + +"At the beginning." + +"And you staid?" + +"I had business which I could not leave." + +"Would you have been ruined if you had left?" + +"Well, no--not exactly ruined, but it would have entailed serious +consequences." + +"Would those consequences have been as serious as the _Tecumseh_ +tragedy?" + +"My dear, in business there are rules which a man is not permitted to +neglect. There are duties and obligations which are imperative. The code +of honor there is as delicate, yet as rigid, as elsewhere." + +"And yet there are times when all obligations of this sort are weakened. +When friends die, this is recognized. Why should it not be so when they +are in danger of a fate worse than death?" + +Thornton elevated his eyebrows, and made no reply. + +"You must have heard about it in March, then?" + +"Yes, at the end of January. His ruin took place in December, 1845. It +was the middle of May before I got home. I then, toward the end of the +month, sent my clerk to Brandon village to make inquiries. He brought +word of the death of Brandon, and the departure of his family to parts +unknown." + +[Illustration: "THEN, COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BURST INTO +AN AGONY OF TEARS."] + +"Did he make no particular inquiries?" + +"No." + +"And you said not a word to me!" + +"I was afraid of agitating you, my dear." + +"And therefore you have secured for me unending self-reproach." + +"Why so? Surely you are blaming yourself without a shadow of a cause." + +"I will tell you why. I dare say I feel unnecessarily on the subject, +but I can not help it. It is a fact that Brandon was always impulsive +and culpably careless about himself. It is to this quality, strangely +enough, that I owe my father's life, and my own comfort for many years. +Paolo also owes as much as I. Mr. Brandon, with a friend of his, was +sailing through the Mediterranean in his own yacht, making occasional +tours into the country at every place where they happened to land, and +at last they came to Girgenti, with the intention of examining the ruins +of Agrigentum. This was in 1818, four years before I was born. My father +was stopping at Girgenti, with his wife and Paolo, who was then six +years old. My father had been very active under the reign of Murat, and +had held a high post in his government. This made him suspected after +Murat's overthrow. + +"On the day that these Englishmen visited Girgenti, a woman in deep +distress came to see them, along with a little boy. It was my mother and +Paolo. She flung herself on the floor at their feet, and prayed them to +try and help her husband, who had been arrested on a charge of treason +and was now in prison. He was suspected of belonging to the Carbonari, +who were just beginning to resume their secret plots, and were showing +great activity. My father belonged to the innermost degree, and had +been betrayed by a villain named Cigole. My mother did not tell them all +this, but merely informed them of his danger. + +"At first they did not know what to do, but the prayers of my mother +moved their hearts. They went to see the captain of the guard, and tried +to bribe him, but without effect. They found out, however, where my +father was confined, and resolved upon a desperate plan. They put my +mother and Paolo on board of the yacht, and by paying a heavy bribe +obtained permission to visit my father in prison. Brandon's friend was +about the same height as my father. When they reached his cell they +urged my father to exchange clothes with him and escape. At first he +positively refused, but when assured that Brandon's friend, being an +Englishman, would be set free in a few days, he consented. Brandon then +took him away unnoticed, put him on board of the yacht, and sailed to +Marseilles, where he gave him money enough to get to England, and told +him to stop at Brandon Hall till he himself arrived. He then sailed back +to see about his friend. + +"He found out nothing about him for some time. At last he induced the +British embassador to take the matter in hand, and he did so with such +effect that the prisoner was liberated. He had been treated with some +severity at first, but he was young, and the government was persuaded to +look upon it as a youthful freak. Brandon's powerful influence with the +British embassador obtained his unconditional release. + +"My father afterward obtained a situation here at Holby, where he was +organist till he died. Through all his life he never ceased to receive +kindness and delicate acts of attention from Brandon. When in his last +sickness Brandon came and staid with him till the end. He then wished to +do something for Paolo, but Paolo preferred seeking his own fortune in +his own way." + +Mrs. Thornton ended her little narrative, to which Despard had listened +with the deepest attention. + +"Who was Brandon's friend?" asked Despard. + +"He was a British officer," said Mrs. Thornton. "For fear of dragging in +his government, and perhaps incurring dismissal from the army, he gave +an assumed name--Mountjoy. This was the reason why Brandon was so long +in finding him." + +"Did your father not know it?" + +"On the passage Brandon kept it secret, and after his friend's +deliverance he came to see my father under his assumed name. My father +always spoke of him as Mountjoy. After a time he heard that he was +dead." + +"I can tell you his true name," said Mr. Thornton. "There is no reason +why you should not know it." + +"What?" + +"Lionel Despard--your father, and Ralph Brandon's bosom friend." + +Despard looked transfixed. Mrs. Thornton gazed at her husband, and gave +an unutterable look at Despard, then, covering her face with her hands, +she burst into an agony of tears. + +"My God," cried Despard, passing his hand over his forehead, "my father +died when I was a child, and nobody was ever able to tell me any thing +about him. And Brandon was his friend. He died thus, and his family have +perished thus, while I have known nothing and done nothing." + +"You at least are not to blame," said Thornton, calmly, "for you had +scarcely heard of Brandon's name. You were in the north of England when +this happened, and knew nothing whatever about it." + +That evening Despard went home with a deeper trouble in his heart. +He was not seen at the Grange for a month. At the end of that time he +returned. He had been away to London during the whole interval. + +As Mrs. Thornton entered to greet him her whole face was overspread with +an expression of radiant joy. He took both her hands in his and pressed +them without a word. "Welcome back," she murmured--"you have been gone a +long time." + +"Nothing but an overpowering sense of duty could have kept me away so +long," said he, in a deep, low voice. + +A few similar commonplaces followed; but with these two the tone of the +voice invested the feeblest commonplaces with some hidden meaning. + +At last she asked: "Tell me what success you had?" He made no reply; +but taking a paper from his pocket opened it, and pointed to a marked +paragraph. This was the month of March. The paper was dated January 14, +1847. The paragraph was as follows: + +"DISTRESSING CASUALTY.--The ship _Java_, which left Sydney on the 5th +of August last, reports a stormy passage. On the 12th of September a +distressing casualty occurred. They were in S. lat. 11 deg. 1' 22", E. long. +105 deg. 6' 36", when a squall suddenly struck the ship. A passenger, Louis +Brandon, Esq., of the firm of Compton & Brandon, Sydney, was standing +by the lee-quarter as the squall struck, and, distressing to narrate, he +was hurled violently overboard. It was impossible to do any thing, as +a monsoon was beginning, which raged for twenty-four hours. Mr. Brandon +was coming to England on business. + +"The captain reports a sand-bank in the latitude and longitude indicated +above, which he names 'Coffin Island,' from a rock of peculiar shape at +the eastern extremity. Ships will do well in future to give this place a +wide berth." + +Deep despondency came over Mrs. Thornton's face as she read this. "We +can do nothing," said she, mournfully. "He is gone. It is better for +him. We must now wait till we hear more from Paolo. I will write to him +at once." + +"And I will write to my uncle." + +There was a long silence. "Do you know," said Despard, finally, "that I +have been thinking much about my father of late. It seems very strange +to me that my uncle never told me about that Sicilian affair before. +Perhaps he did not wish me to know it, for fear that through all my life +I should brood over thoughts of that noble heart lost to me forever. +But I intend to write to him, and obtain afresh the particulars of his +death. I wish to know more about my mother. No one was ever in such +ignorance of his parents as I have been. They merely told me that my +father and mother died suddenly in India, and left me an orphan at the +age of seven under the care of Mr. Henry Thornton. They never told me +that Brandon was a very dear friend of his. I have thought also of the +circumstances of his death, and they all seem confused. Some say he died +in Calcutta, others say in China, and Mr. Thornton once said in Manilla. +There is some mystery about it." + +"When Brandon was visiting my father," said Mrs. Thornton, "you were +at school, and he never saw you. I think he thought you were Henry +Despard's son." + +"There's some mystery about it," said Despard, thoughtfully. + +When Mr. Thornton came in that night he read a few extracts from the +London paper which he had just received. One was as follows: + +"FOUNDERED AT SEA.--The ship _H. B. Smith_, from Calcutta, which arrived +yesterday, reports that on the 28th January they picked up a ship's +long-boat near the Cape Verd Islands. It was floating bottom upward. On +the stern was painted the word _Falcon_. The ship _Falcon_ has now been +expected for two months, and it is feared from this that she may have +foundered at sea. The _Falcon_ was on her way from Sydney to London, and +belonged to Messrs. Kingwood, Flaxman, & Co." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN FOREST. + +Let us return to the castaways. + +It was morning on the coast of Africa--Africa the mysterious, the +inhospitable Africa, _leonum arida nutrix_. + +There was a little harbor into which flowed a shallow, sluggish river, +while on each side rose high hills. In front of the harbor was an island +which concealed and protected it. + +Here the palm-trees grew. The sides rose steeply, the summit was lofty, +and the towering palms afforded a deep, dense shade. The grass was fine +and short, and being protected from the withering heat was as fine as +that of an English lawn. Up the palm-trees there climbed a thousand +parasitic plants, covered with blossoms--gorgeous, golden, rich beyond +all description. Birds of starry plumage flitted through the air, as +they leaped from tree to tree, uttering a short, wild note; through the +spreading branches sighed the murmuring breeze that came from off the +ocean; round the shore the low tones of the gently-washing surf were +borne as it came in in faint undulations from the outer sea. + +Underneath the deepest shadow of the palms lay Brandon. He had lost +consciousness when he fell from the boat; and now for the first time he +opened his eyes and looked around upon the scene, seeing these sights +and hearing the murmuring sounds. + +In front of him stood Beatrice, looking with dropped eyelids at the +grass, her arms half folded before her, her head uncovered, her hair +bound by a sort of fillet around the crown, and then gathered in great +black curling masses behind. Her face was pale as usual, and had the +same marble whiteness which always marked it. That face was now pensive +and sad; but there was no weakness there. Its whole expression showed +manifestly the self-contained soul, the strong spirit evenly-poised, +willing and able to endure. + +Brandon raised himself on one arm and looked wonderingly around. She +started. A vivid flash of joy spread over her face in one bright smile. +She hurried up and knelt down by him. + +"Do not move--you are weak," she said, as tenderly as a mother to a sick +child. + +Brandon looked at her fixedly for a long time without speaking. She +placed her cool hand on his forehead. His eyes closed as though there +were a magnetic power in her touch. After a while, as she removed her +hand, he opened his eyes again. He took her hand and held it fervently +to his lips. "I know," said he, in a low, dreamy voice, "who you are, +and who I am--but nothing more. I know that I have lost all memory; that +there has been some past life of great sorrow; but I can not think what +that sorrow is--I know that there has been some misfortune, but I can +not remember what." + +Beatrice smiled sadly. "It will all come to you in time." + +"At first when I waked," he murmured, "and looked around on this scene, +I thought that I had at last entered the spirit-world, and that you had +come with me; and I felt a deep joy that I can never express. But I see, +and I know now, that I am yet on the earth. Though what shore of all the +earth this is, or how I got here, I know not." + +"You must sleep," said she, gently. + +"And you--you--you," he murmured, with indescribable intensity--"you, +companion, preserver, guardian angel--I feel as though, if I were not a +man, I could weep my life out at your feet." + +"Do not weep," said she, calmly. "The time for tears may yet come; but +it is not now." + +He looked at her, long, earnestly, and inquiringly, still holding her +hand, which he had pressed to his lips. An unutterable longing to ask +something was evident; but it was checked by a painful embarrassment. + +"I know nothing but this," said he at last, "that I have felt as though +sailing for years over infinite seas. Wave after wave has been impelling +us on. A Hindu servant guided the boat. But I lay weak, with my head +supported by you, and your arms around me. Yet, of all the days and all +the years that ever I have known, these were supreme, for all the +time was one long ecstasy. And now, if there is sorrow before me," +he concluded, "I will meet it resignedly, for I have had my heaven +already." + +"You have sailed over seas," said she, sadly; "but I was the helpless +one, and you saved me from death." + +"And are you--to me--what I thought?" he asked, with painful vehemence +and imploring eyes. + +"I am your nurse," said she, with a melancholy smile. + +He sighed heavily. "Sleep now," said she, and she again placed her hand +upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song +of surpassing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation, +and sleep came to him as he lay. + +When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and +Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking +there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to +drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat +up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at +her long and earnestly. + +"I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here," said he. "I +know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help +struggling to regain knowledge of that past." + +He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic. + +"I have something suspended about my neck," said he, "which is precious. +Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time." + +Then, after a pause, "Was there not a wreck?" he asked. + +"Yes; and you saved my life." + +"Was there not a fight with pirates?" + +"Yes; and you saved my life," said Beatrice again. + +"I begin to remember," said Brandon. "How long is it since the wreck +took place?" + +"It was January 15." + +"And what is this?" + +"February 6. It is about three weeks." + +"How did I get away?" + +"In a boat with me and the servant." + +"Where is the servant?" + +"Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here." + +"How long have I been in this place?" + +"A fortnight." + +Numerous questions followed. Brandon's memory began to return. Yet, in +his efforts to regain knowledge of himself, Beatrice was still the most +prominent object in his thoughts. His dream-life persisted in mingling +itself with his real life. + +"But you," he cried, earnestly--"you, how have you endured all this? You +are weary; you have worn yourself out for me. What can I ever do to show +my gratitude? You have watched me night and day. Will you not have more +care of your own life?" + +The eyes of Beatrice kindled with a soft light. "What is my life?" said +she. "Do I not owe it over and over again to you? But I deny that I am +worn out." + +Brandon looked at her with earnest, longing eyes. His recovery was +rapid. In a few days he was able to go about. Cato procured fish from +the waters and game from the woods, so as to save the provisions of the +boat, and they looked forward to the time when they might resume their +journey. But to Brandon this thought was repugnant, and an hourly +struggle now went on within him. Why should he go to England? What could +he do? Why should he ever part from her? + + "Oh, to burst all links of habit, and to wander far away, + On from island unto island at the gateways of the day!" + +In her presence he might find peace, and perpetual rapture in her smile. + +In the midst of such meditations as these her voice once arose from +afar. It was one of her own songs, such as she could improvise. It spoke +of summer isles amidst the sea; of soft winds and spicy breezes; of +eternal rest beneath over-shadowing palms. It was a soft, melting +strain--a strain of enchantment, sung by one who felt the intoxication +of the scene, and whose genius imparted it to others. He was like +Ulysses listening to the song of the sirens. It seemed to him as though +all nature there joined in that marvelous strain. It was to him as +though the very winds were lulled into calm, and a delicious languor +stole upon all his senses. + + "Sweet, sweet, sweet, god Pan, + Sweet in the fields by the river, + Blinding sweet, oh great god Pan, + The sun on the hills forgot to die, + And the lily revived, and the dragon-fly + Came back to dream by the river." + +It was the [Greek: meligaerun opa], the [Greek: opa kallimon] of the +sirens. + +For she had that divine voice which of itself can charm the soul; but, +in addition, she had that poetic genius which of itself could give words +which the music might clothe. + +Now, as he saw her at a distance through the trees and marked the +statuesque calm of her classic face, as she stood there, seeming in her +song rather to soliloquize than to sing, breathing forth her music "in +profuse strains of unpremeditated art," the very beauty of the singer +and the very sweetness of the song put an end to all temptation. + +"This is folly," he thought. "Could one like that assent to my wild +fancy? Would she, with her genius, give up her life to me? No; that +divine music must be heard by larger numbers. She is one who thinks she +can interpret the inspiration of Mozart and Handel. And who am I?" + +Then there came amidst this music a still small voice, like the voice of +those helpless ones at home; and this voice seemed one of entreaty and +of despair. So the temptation passed. But it passed only to be renewed +again. As for Beatrice, she seemed conscious of no such effect as this. +Calmly and serenely she bore herself, singing as she thought, as the +birds sing, because she could not help it. Here she was like one of +the classic nymphs--like the genius of the spot--like Calypso, only +passionless. + +Now, the more Brandon felt the power of her presence the more he took +refuge within himself, avoiding all dangerous topics, speaking only of +external things, calling upon her to sing of loftier themes, such as +those "_cieli immensi_" of which she had sung when he first heard her. +Thus he fought down the struggles of his own heart, and crushed out +those rising impulses which threatened to sweep him helplessly away. + +As for Beatrice herself she seemed changeless, moved by no passion and +swayed by no impulse. Was she altogether passionless, or was this her +matchless self-control? Brandon thought that it was her nature, and that +she, like her master Langhetti, found in music that which satisfied all +passion and all desire. + +In about a fortnight after his recovery from his stupor they were ready +to leave. The provisions in the boat were enough for two weeks' sail. +Water was put on board, and they bade adieu to the island which had +sheltered them. + +This time Beatrice would not let Brandon row while the sun was up. They +rowed at night, and by day tried to get under the shadow of the shore. +At last a wind sprang up; they now sailed along swiftly for two or three +days. At the end of that time they saw European houses, beyond which +arose some roofs and spires. It was Sierra Leone. Brandon's conjectures +had been right. On landing here Brandon simply said that they had been +wrecked in the _Falcon_, and had escaped on the boat, all the rest +having perished. He gave his name as Wheeler. The authorities received +these unfortunate ones with great kindness, and Brandon heard that a +ship would leave for England on the 6th of March. + +The close connection which had existed between them for so many weeks +was now severed, and Brandon thought that this might perhaps remove that +extraordinary power which he felt that she exerted over him. Not so. In +her absence he found himself constantly looking forward toward a meeting +with her again. When with her he found the joy that flowed from her +presence to be more intense, since it was more concentrated. He began to +feel alarmed at his own weakness. + +The 6th of March came, and they left in the ship _Juno_ for London. + +Now their intercourse was like that of the old days on board the +_Falcon_. + +"It is like the _Falcon_," said Beatrice, on the first evening. "Let us +forget all about the journey over the sea, and our stay on the island." + +"I can never forget that I owe my life to you," said Brandon, +vehemently. + +"And I," rejoined Beatrice, with kindling eyes, which yet were softened +by a certain emotion of indescribable tenderness--"I--how can I forget! +Twice you saved me from a fearful death, and then you toiled to save my +life till your own sank under it." + +"I would gladly give up a thousand lives"--said Brandon, in a low voice, +while his eyes were illumined with a passion which had never before been +permitted to get beyond control, but now rose visibly, and irresistibly. + +"If you have a life to give," said Beatrice, calmly, returning his +fevered gaze with a full look of tender sympathy--"if you have a life +to give, let it be given to that _purpose_ of yours to which you are +devoted." + +"You refuse it, then!" cried Brandon, vehemently and reproachfully. + +Beatrice returned his reproachful gaze with one equally reproachful, and +raising her calm eyes to Heaven, said, in a tremulous voice, + +"You have no right to say so--least of all to _me_. I said what you feel +and know; and it is this, that others require your life, in comparison +with whom I am nothing. Ah, my friend," she continued, in tones of +unutterable sadness, "let us be friends here at least, on the sea, for +when we reach England we must be separated for evermore!" + +"For evermore!" cried Brandon, in agony. + +"For evermore!" repeated Beatrice, in equal anguish. + +"Do you feel very eager to get to England?" asked Brandon, after a long +silence. + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I know that there is sorrow for me there." + +"If our boat had been destroyed on the shore of that island," he asked, +in almost an imploring voice, "would you have grieved?" + +"No." + +"The present is better than the future. Oh, that my dream had continued +forever, and that I had never awaked to the bitterness of life!" + +"That," said Beatrice, with a mournful smile, "is a reproach to me for +watching you." + +"Yet that moment of awaking was sweet beyond all thought," continued +Brandon, in a musing tone, "for I had lost all memory of all things +except you." + +They stood in silence, sometimes looking at one another, sometimes at +the sea, while the dark shadows of the Future swept gloomily before +their eyes. + +The voyage passed on until at last the English shores were seen, and +they sailed up the Channel amidst the thronging ships that pass to and +fro from the metropolis of the world. + +"To-morrow we part," said Beatrice, as she stood with Brandon on the +quarter-deck. + +"No," said Brandon; "there will be no one to meet you here. I must take +you to your home." + +"To my home! You?" cried Beatrice, starting back. "You dare not." + +"I dare." + +"Do you know what it is?" + +"I do not seek to know. I do not ask; but yet I think I know." + +"And yet _you_ offer to go?" + +"I must go. I must see you to the very last." + +"Be it so," said Beatrice, in a solemn voice, "since it is the very +last." + +Suddenly she looked at him with the solemn gaze of one whose soul was +filled with thoughts that overpowered every common feeling. It was a +glance lofty and serene and unimpassioned, like that of some spirit +which has passed beyond human cares, but sad as that of some prophet of +woe. + +"Louis Brandon!" + +At this mention of his name a flash of unspeakable surprise passed over +Brandon's face. She held out her hand. "Take my hand," said she, calmly, +"and hold it so that I may have strength to speak." + +"Louis Brandon!" said she, "there was a time on that African island when +you lay under the trees and I was sure that you were dead. There was no +beating to your heart, and no perceptible breath. The last test failed, +the last hope left me, and I knelt by your head, and took you in my +arms, and wept in my despair. At your feet Cato knelt and mourned in his +Hindu fashion. Then mechanically and hopelessly he made a last trial to +see if you were really dead, so that he might prepare your grave. He put +his hand under your clothes against your heart. He held it there for a +long time. Your heart gave no answer. He withdrew it, and in doing +so took something away that was suspended about your neck. This was a +metallic case and a package wrapped in oiled silk. He gave them to me." + +Beatrice had spoken with a sad, measured tone--such a tone as one +sometimes uses in prayer--a passionless monotone, without agitation and +without shame. + +Brandon answered not a word. + +"Take my hand," she said, "or I can not go through. This only can give +me strength." + +He clasped it tightly in both of his. She drew a long breath, and +continued: + +"I thought you dead, and knew the full measure of despair. Now, when +these were given me, I wished to know the secret of the man who had +twice rescued me from death, and finally laid down his life for my sake. +I did it not through curiosity. I did it," and her voice rose slightly, +with solemn emphasis--"I did it through a holy feeling that, since my +life was due to you, therefore, as yours was gone, mine should replace +it, and be devoted to the purpose which you had undertaken. + +"I opened first the metallic case. It was under the dim shade of the +African forest, and while holding on my knees the head of the man who +had laid down his life for me. You know what I read there. I read of a +father's love and agony. I read there the name of the one who had driven +him to death. The shadows of the forest grew darker around me; as the +full meaning of that revelation came over my soul they deepened into +blackness, and I fell senseless by your side. + +[Illustration: "I THOUGHT YOU DEAD, AND KNEW THE FULL MEASURE OF +DESPAIR."] + +"Better had Cato left us both lying there to die, and gone off in the +boat himself. But he revived me. I laid you down gently, and propped up +your head, but never again dared to defile you with the touch of one so +infamous as I. + +"There still remained the other package, which I read--how you reached +that island, and how you got that MS., I neither know nor seek to +discover; I only know that all my spirit awaked within me as I read +those words. A strange, inexplicable feeling arose. I forgot all about +you and your griefs. My whole soul was fixed on the figure of that +bereaved and solitary man, who thus drifted to his fate. He seemed to +speak to me. A fancy, born out of frenzy, no doubt, for all that horror +well-nigh drove me mad--a fancy came to me that this voice, which had +come from a distance of eighteen years, had spoken to me; a wild fancy, +because I was eighteen years old, that therefore I was connected with +these eighteen years, filled my whole soul. I thought that this MS. was +mine, and the other one yours. I read it over and over, and over yet +again, till every word forced itself into my memory--till you and your +sorrows sank into oblivion beside the woes of this man. + +"I sat near you all that night. The palms sighed in the air. I dared not +touch you. My brain whirled. I thought I heard voices out at sea, and +figures appeared in the gloom. I thought I saw before me the form of +Colonel Despard. He looked at me with sadness unutterable, yet with soft +pity and affection, and extended his hand as though to bless me. Madder +fancies than ever then rushed through my brain. But when morning came +and the excitement had passed I knew that I had been delirious. + +"When that morning came I went over to look at you. To my amazement, +you were breathing. Your life was renewed of itself. I knelt down and +praised God for this, but did not dare to touch you. I folded up the +treasures, and told Cato to put them again around your neck. Then I +watched you till you recovered. + +"But on that night, and after reading those MSS., I seemed to have +passed into another stage of being. I can say things to you now which I +would not have dared to say before, and strength is given me to tell you +all this before we part for evermore. + +"I have awakened to infamy; for what is infamy if it be not this, to +bear the name I bear? Something more than pride or vanity has been the +foundation of that feeling of shame and hate with which I have always +regarded it. And I have now died to my former life, and awakened to a +new one. + +"Louis Brandon, the agonies which may be suffered by those whom you seek +to avenge I can conjecture but I wish never to hear. I pray God that +I may never know what it might break my heart to learn. You must save +them, you must also avenge them. You are strong, and you are implacable. +When you strike your blow will be crushing. + +"But I must go and bear my lot among those you strike; I will wait on +among them, sharing their infamy and their fate. When your blow falls +I will not turn away. I will think of those dear ones of yours who have +suffered, and for their sakes will accept the blow of revenge." + +Brandon had held her hand in silence, and with a convulsive pressure +during these words. As she stopped she made a faint effort to withdraw +it. He would not let her. He raised it to his lips and pressed it there. + +Three times he made an effort to speak, and each time failed. At last, +with a strong exertion, he uttered, in a hoarse voice and broken tones, + +"Oh, Beatrice! Beatrice! how I love you!" + +"I know it," said she, in the same monotone which she had used before--a +tone of infinite mournfulness--"I have known it long, and I would say +also, 'Louis Brandon, I love you,' if it were not that this would be the +last infamy; that you, Brandon, of Brandon Hall, should be loved by one +who bears my name." + +The hours of the night passed away. They stood watching the English +shores, speaking little. Brandon clung to her hand. They were sailing up +the Thames. It was about four in the morning. + +"We shall soon be there," said he; "sing to me for the last time. Sing, +and forget for a moment that we must part." + +Then, in a low voice, of soft but penetrating tones, which thrilled +through every fibre of Brandon's being. Beatrice began to sing: + + "Love made us one: our unity + Is indissoluble by act of thine, + For were this mortal being ended, + And our freed spirits in the world above, + Love, passing o'er the grave, would join us there, + As once he joined us here: + And the sad memory of the life below + Would but unite as closer evermore. + No act of thine may loose + Thee from the eternal bond, + Nor shall Revenge have power + To disunite us _there_!" + +On that same day they landed in London. The Governor's lady at Sierra +Leone had insisted on replenishing Beatrice's wardrobe, so that she +showed no appearance of having gone through the troubles which had +afflicted her on sea and shore. + +Brandon took her to a hotel and then went to his agent's. He also +examined the papers for the last four months. He read in the morning +journals a notice which had already appeared of the arrival of the ship +off the Nore, and the statement that three of the passengers of the +_Falcon_ had reached Sierra Leone. He communicated to the owners of +the _Falcon_ the particulars of the loss of the ship, and earned their +thanks, for they were able to get their insurance without waiting a +year, as is necessary where nothing is heard of a missing vessel. + +He traveled with Beatrice by rail and coach as far as the village of +Brandon. At the inn he engaged a carriage to take her up to her father's +house. It was Brandon Hall, as he very well knew. + +But little was said during all this time. Words were useless. Silence +formed the best communion for them. He took her hand at parting. She +spoke not a word; his lips moved, but no audible sound escaped. Yet in +their eyes as they fastened themselves on one another in an intense gaze +there was read all that unutterable passion of love, of longing, and of +sorrow that each felt. + +The carriage drove off. Brandon watched it. "Now farewell. Love, +forever," he murmured, "and welcome Vengeance!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +INQUIRIES. + +So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the village +which bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. He +had been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had passed from +a transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard and +mustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of the +face like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundness +of outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight, +thin Grecian type. His eyes alone remained the same, yet the expression +had grown different, even as the soul that looked forth through them had +been changed by experience and by suffering. + +He gave himself out at the inn as an American merchant, and went out to +begin his inquiries. Tearing two buttons off his coat, he entered the +shop of the village tailor. + +"Good-morning," said he, civilly. + +"Good-morning, Sir; fine morning, Sir," answered the tailor, volubly. He +was a little man, with a cast in his eye, and on looking at Brandon he +had to put his head on one side, which he did with a quick, odd gesture. + +"There are two buttons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repair +it for me?" + +"Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down." + +"The buttons," said Brandon, "are a little odd; but if you have not got +any exactly like them, any thing similar will do." + +"Oh, I think we'll fit you out, Sir. I think we'll fit you out," +rejoined the tailor, briskly. + +He bustled about among his boxes and drawers, pulled out a large number +of articles, and finally began to select the buttons which were nearest +like those on the coat. + +"This is a fine little village," said Brandon, carelessly. + +"Yes, Sir; that's a fact, Sir; that's just what every body says, Sir." + +"What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?" + +"Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It is +Brandon Hall, Sir." + +"Brandon Hall?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall--or is it the Hall +that is named after the village?" + +"Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family." + +"Is it an old family? It must be, of course." + +"The oldest in the county, Sir." + +"I wonder if Mr. Brandon would let a stranger go through his grounds? +There is a hill back of the house that I should like to see." + +"Mr. Brandon!" exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; "Mr. Brandon! +There ain't no Mr. Brandon now!" + +"How is that?" + +"Gone, Sir--ruined--died out." + +"Then the man that lives there now is not Mr. Brandon?" + +"Nothing of the kind, Sir! He, Sir! Why he isn't fit to clean the shoes +of any of the old Brandons!" + +"Who is he?" + +"His name, Sir, is Potts." + +"Potts! That doesn't sound like one of your old county names." + +"I should think not, Sir. Potts! Why, Sir, he's generally believed +in this here community to be a villain, Sir," said the little tailor, +mysteriously, and with the look of a man who would like very well to be +questioned further. + +Brandon humored him. "How is that?" + +"It's a long story, Sir." + +"Oh, well--tell it. I have a great curiosity to hear any old stories +current in your English villages. I'm an American, and English life is +new to me." + +"I'll bet you never heard any thing like this in all your born days." + +"Tell it then, by all means." + +The tailor jumped down from his seat, went mysteriously to the door, +looked cautiously out, and then returned. + +"It's just as well to be a little careful," said he, "for if that man +knew that I was talking about him he'd take it out of me quick enough, I +tell you." + +"You seem to be afraid of him." + +"We're all afraid of him in the village, and hate him; but I hope to God +he'll catch it yet!" + +"How can you be afraid of him? You all say that this is a free country." + +"No man, Sir, in any country, is free, except he's rich. Poor people +can be oppressed in many ways; and most of us are in one way or other +dependent on him. We hate him all the worse, though. But I'll tell you +about him." + +"Yes, go on." + +"Well, Sir, old Mr. Brandon, about twenty years ago, was one of the +richest men in the county. About fifteen years ago the man Potts turned +up, and however the old man took a fancy to him I never could see, but +he did take a fancy to him, put all his money in some tin mines that +Potts had started, and the end of it was Potts turned out a scoundrel, +as every one said he would, swindled the old man out of every penny, and +ruined him completely. Brandon had to sell his estate, and Potts bought +it with the very money out of which he had cheated the old man." + +"Oh! impossible!" said Brandon. "Isn't that some village gossip?" + +"I wish it was, Sir--but it ain't. Go ask any man here, and he'll tell +you the same." + +"And what became of the family?" asked Brandon, calmly. + +"Ah, Sir! that is the worst part of it." + +"Why?" + +"I'll tell you, Sir. He was ruined. He gave up all. He hadn't a penny +left. He went out of the Hall and lived for a short time in a small +house at the other end of the village. At last he spent what little +money he had left, and they all got sick. You wouldn't believe what +happened after that." + +"What was it?" + +"They were all taken to the alms-house." + +A burst of thunder seemed to sound in Brandon's ears as he heard this, +which he had never even remotely imagined. The tailor was occupied with +his own thoughts, and did not notice the wildness that for an instant +appeared in Brandon's eyes. The latter for a moment felt paralyzed +and struck down into nothingness by the shock of that tremendous +intelligence. + +"The people felt dreadfully about it," continued the tailor, "but they +couldn't do any thing. It was Potts who had the family taken to the +alms-house. Nobody dared to interfere." + +"Did none of the county families do anything?" said Brandon, who at +last, by a violent effort, had regained his composure. + +"No. They had all been insulted by the old man, so now they let him +suffer." + +"Had he no old friends, or even acquaintances?" + +"Well, that's what we all asked ourselves, Sir; but at any rate, whether +he had or not, they didn't turn up--that is, not in time. There was a +young man here when it was too late." + +"A young man?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Was he a relative?" + +"Oh no, Sir, only a lawyer's clerk; wanted to see about business I dare +say. Perhaps to collect a bill. Let me see; the lawyer who sent him was +named Thornton." + +"Thornton!" said Brandon, as the name sank into his soul. + +"Yes; he lived at Holby." + +Brandon drew a long breath. + +"No, Sir; no friends came, whether he had any or not. They were all sick +at the alms-house for weeks." + +"And I suppose they all died there?" said Brandon, in a strange, sweet +voice. + +"No, Sir. They were not so happy." + +"What suffering could be greater?" + +"They do talk dreadfully in this town, Sir; and I dare say it's not +true, but if it is it's enough to make a man's blood ran cold." + +"You excite my curiosity. Remember I am an American, and these things +seem odd to me. I always thought your British aristocrats could not be +ruined." + +"Here was one, Sir, that was, anyhow." + +"Go on." + +"Well, Sir, the old man died in the alms-house. The others got well. As +soon as they were well enough they went away." + +"How did they get away?" + +"Potts helped them," replied the tailor, in a peculiar tone. "They went +away from the village." + +"Where did they go?" + +"People say to Liverpool. I only tell what I know. I heard young Bill +Potts, the old fellow's son, boasting one night at the inn where he was +half drunk, how they had served the Brandons. He said they wanted to +leave the village, so his father helped them away to America." + +"To America?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +Brandon made no rejoinder. + +"Bill Potts said they went to Liverpool, and then left for America to +make their fortunes." + +"What part of America?" asked Brandon, indifferently. "I never saw or +heard of them." + +"Didn't you, Sir?" asked the tailor, who evidently thought that America +was like some English county, where every body may hear of every body +else. "That's odd, too. I was going to ask you if you had." + +"I wonder what ship they went out in?" + +"That I can't say, Sir. Bill Potts kept dark about that. He said one +thing, though, that set us thinking." + +"What was that?" + +"Why, that they went out in an emigrant ship as steerage passengers." + +Brandon was silent. + +"Poor people!" said he at last. + +By this time the tailor had finished his coat and handed it back to him. +Having obtained all the information that the man could give Brandon paid +him and left. + +Passing by the inn he walked on till he came to the alms-house. Here he +stood for a while and looked at it. + +Brandon alms-house was small, badly planned, badly managed, and +badly built; every thing done there was badly and meanly done. It was +white-washed from the topmost point of every chimney down to the lowest +edge of the basement. A whited sepulchre. For there was foulness there, +in the air, in the surroundings, in every thing. Squalor and dirt +reigned. His heart grew sick as those hideous walls rose before his +sight. + +Between this and Brandon Hall there was a difference, a distance almost +immeasurable; to pass from one to the other might be conceived of as +incredible; and yet that passage had been made. + +To fall so far as to go the whole distance between the two; to begin in +one and end in the other; to be born, brought up, and live and move and +have one's being in the one, and then to die in the other; what was more +incredible than this? Yet this had been the fate of his father. + +Leaving the place, he walked directly toward Brandon Hall. + +Brandon Hall was begun, nobody knows exactly when; but it is said that +the foundations were laid before the time of Egbert. In all parts of the +old mansion the progress of English civilization might be studied; in +the Norman arches of the old chapel, the slender pointed style of the +fifteenth century doorway that opened to the same, the false Grecian of +the early Tudor period, and the wing added in Elizabeth's day, the days +of that old Ralph Brandon who sank his ship and its treasure to prevent +it from falling into the hands of the enemy. + +Around this grand old Hall were scenes which could be found nowhere +save in England. Wide fields, forever green with grass like velvet, over +which rose groves of oak and elm, giving shelter to innumerable birds. +There the deer bounded and the hare found a covert. The broad avenue +that led to the Hall went up through a world of rich sylvan scenery, +winding through groves and meadows and over undulating ground. Before +the Hall lay the open sea about three miles away; but the Hall was on an +eminence and overlooked all the intervening ground. Standing there +one might see the gradual decline of the country as it sloped downward +toward the margin of the ocean. On the left a bold promontory jutted far +out, on the nearer side of which there was an island with a light-house; +on the right was another promontory, not so bold. Between these two the +whole country was like a garden. A little cove gave shelter to small +vessels, and around this cove was the village of Brandon. + +Brandon Hall was one of the oldest and most magnificent of the great +halls of England. As Brandon looked upon it it rose before him amidst +the groves of six hundred years, its many-gabled roof rising out from +amidst a sea of foliage, speaking of wealth, luxury, splendor, power, +influence, and all that men hope for, or struggle for, or fight for; +from all of which he and his had been cast out; and the one who had done +this was even now occupying the old ancestral seat of his family. + +Brandon entered the gate, and walked up the long avenue till he reached +the Hall. Here he rang the bell, and a servant appeared. "Is Mr. Potts +at home?" + +"Yes," said the man, brusquely. + +"I wish to see him." + +"Who shall I say?" + +"Mr. Hendricks, from America." + +The man showed him into the drawing-room. Brandon seated himself and +waited. The room was furnished in the most elegant manner, most of the +furniture being old, and all familiar to him. He took a hasty glance +around, and closed his eyes as if to shut it all out from sight. + +In a short time a man entered. + +He appeared to be between fifty and sixty years of age, of medium size, +broad-shouldered and stout. He had a thoroughly plebeian air; he was +dressed in black, and had a bunch of large seals dangling from beneath +his waistcoat. His face was round and fleshy, his eyes were small, +and his head was bald. The general expression of his face was that of +good-natured simplicity. As he caught sight of Brandon a frank smile of +welcome arose on his broad, fat face. + +[Illustration: "YOU ARE, SIR. JOHN POTTS OF POTTS HALL."] + +Brandon rose and bowed. "Am I addressing Mr. John Potts?" + +"You are, Sir. John Potts of Potts Hall." + +"Potts of Potts Hall!" repeated Brandon. Then, drawing a card from his +pocket he handed it to Potts. He had procured some of these in London. +The card read as follows: + +BEAMISH & HENDRICKS, FLOUR MERCHANTS & PROVISION DEALERS, 88 FRONT +STREET, CINCINNATI, OHIO. + +"I, Sir," said Brandon, "am Mr. Hendricks, junior partner in Beamish & +Hendricks, and I hope you are quite well." + +"Very well, thank you," answered Potts, smiling and sitting down. "I am +happy to see you." + +"Do you keep your health, Sir?" + +"Thank you, I do," said Potts. "A touch of rheumatism at odd times, +that's all." + +Brandon's manner was stiff and formal, and his voice had assumed a +slight nasal intonation. Potts had evidently looked on him as a perfect +stranger. + +"I hope, Sir, that I am not taking up your valuable time. You British +noblemen have your valuable time, I know, as well as we business men." + +"No, Sir, no, Sir, not at all," said Potts, evidently greatly delighted +at being considered a British nobleman. + +"Well, Sir John--or is it my lord?" said Brandon, interrogatively, +correcting himself, and looking inquiringly at Potts. + +"Sir John'll do," said Potts. + +"Well, Sir John. Being in England on business, I came to ask you a few +questions about a matter of some importance to us." + +"Proceed, Sir!" said Potts, with great dignity. + +"There's a young man that came into our employ last October whom we took +a fancy to, or rather my senior did, and we have an idea of promoting +him. My senior thinks the world of him, has the young man at his +house, and he is even making up to his daughter. He calls himself +Brandon--Frank Brandon." + +At this Potts started from an easy lounging attitude, in which he was +trying to "do" the British noble, and with startling intensity of gaze +looked Brandon full in the face. + +"I think the young man is fairish," continues Brandon, "but nothing +extraordinary. He is industrious and sober, but he ain't quick, and +he never had any real business experience till he came to us. Now, my +senior from the very first was infatuated with him, gave him a large +salary, and, in spite of my warnings that he ought to be cautious, he +wants to make him head-clerk, with an eye to making him partner +next year. And so bent on this is he that I know he would dissolve +partnership with me if I refused, take the young man, let him marry his +daughter, and leave him all his money when he dies. That's no small sum, +for old Mr. Beamish is worth in real estate round Cincinnati over two +millions of dollars. So, you see, I have a right to feel anxious, more +especially as I don't mind telling you, Sir John, who understand +these matters, that I thought I had a very good chance myself with old +Beamish's daughter." + +Brandon spoke all this very rapidly, and with the air of one who was +trying to conceal his feelings of dislike to the clerk of whom he was so +jealous. Potts looked at him with an encouraging smile, and asked, as he +stopped, + +"And how did you happen to hear of me?" + +"That's just what I was coming to. Sir John!" Brandon drew his chair +nearer, apparently in deep excitement, and in a more nasal tone than +ever, with a confidential air, he went on: + +"You see, I mistrusted this young man who was carrying every thing +before him with a high hand, right in my very teeth, and I watched +him. I pumped him to see if I couldn't get him to tell something about +himself. But the fellow was always on his guard, and always told the +same story. This is what he tells: He says that his father was Ralph +Brandon of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, and that he got very poor--he was +ruined, in fact, by--I beg your pardon, Sir John, but he says it was +you, and that you drove the family away. They then came over to America, +and he got to Cincinnati. The old man, he says, died before they left, +but he won't tell what became of the others. I confess I believed it was +all a lie, and didn't think there was any such place as Brandon Hall, so +I determined to find out, naturally enough, Sir John, when two millions +were at stake." + +Potts winked. + +"Well, I suddenly found my health giving way, and had to come to Europe. +You see what a delicate creature I am!" + +Potts laughed with intense glee. + +"And I came here after wandering about, trying to find it. I heard at +last that there was a place that used to be Brandon Hall, though most +people call it Potts Hall. Now, I thought, my fine young man, I'll catch +you; for I'll call on Sir John himself and ask him." + +"You did right, Sir," said Potts, who had taken an intense interest in +this narrative. "I'm the very man you ought to have come to. I can tell +you all you want. This Brandon is a miserable swindler." + +"Good! I thought so. You'll give me that, Sir John, over your own name, +will you?" cried Brandon, in great apparent excitement. + +"Of course I will," said Potts, "and a good deal more. But tell me, +first, what that young devil said as to how he got to Cincinnati? How +did he find his way there?" + +"He would never tell." + +"What became of his mother and sister?" + +"He wouldn't say." + +"All I know," said Potts, "is this. I got official information that they +all died at Quebec." + +Brandon looked suddenly at the floor and gasped. In a moment he had +recovered. + +"Curse him! then this fellow is an impostor?" + +"No," said Potts, "he must have escaped. It's possible. There was some +confusion at Quebec about names." + +"Then his name may really be Frank Brandon?" + +"It must be," said Potts. "Anyhow, the others are all right." + +"Are what?" + +"All right; dead you know. That's why he don't like to tell you about +them." + +"Well, now, Sir John, could you tell me what you know about this young +man, since you think he must be the same one?" + +"I know he must be, and I'll tell you all about him and the whole cursed +lot. In the first place," continued Potts, clearing his throat, "old +Brandon was one of the cursedest old fools that ever lived. He was very +well off but wanted to get richer, and so he speculated in a tin mine in +Cornwall. I was acquainted with him at the time and used to respect him. +He persuaded me--I was always off-handed about money, and a careless, +easy fellow--he persuaded me to invest in it also. I did so, but at the +end of a few years I found out that the tin mine was a rotten concern, +and sold out. I sold at a very high price, for people believed it was a +splendid property. After this I found another mine and made money hand +over fist. I warned old Brandon, and so did every body, but he didn't +care a fig for what we said, and finally, one fine morning, he waked up +and found himself ruined. + +"He was more utterly ruined than any man I ever knew of, and all his +estates were sold. I had made some money, few others in the county +had any ready cash, the sale was forced, and I bought the whole +establishment at a remarkably low figure. I got old Brandy--Brandy was +a nickname I gave the old fellow--I got him a house in the village, +and supported him for a while with his wife and daughter and his great +lubberly boy. I soon found out what vipers they were. They all turned +against their benefactor, and dared to say that I had ruined their +father. In fact, my only fault was buying the place, and that was an +advantage to old Brandy rather than an injury. It shows, though, what +human nature is. + +"They all got sick at last, and as they had no one to nurse them, I very +considerately sent them all to the alms-house, where they had good beds, +good attendance, and plenty to eat and drink. No matter what I did for +them they abused me. They reviled me, for sending them to a comfortable +home, and old Brandy was the worst of all. I used to go and visit him +two or three times a day, and he always cursed me. Old Brandy did get +awfully profane, that's a fact. The reason was his infernal pride. Look +at me, now! I'm not proud. Put me in the alms-house, and would I curse +you? I hope not. + +"At last old Brandy died, and of course I had to look out for the +family. They seemed thrown on my hands, you know, and I was too +good-natured to let them suffer, although they treated me so abominably. +The best thing I could think of was to ship them all off to America, +where they could all get rich. So I took them to Liverpool." + +"Did they want to go?" + +"They didn't seem to have an idea in their heads. They looked and acted +just like three born fools." + +"Strange!" + +"I let a friend of mine see about them, as I had considerable to do, and +he got them a passage." + +"I suppose you paid their way out." + +"I did, Sir," said Potts, with an air of munificence; "but, between you +and me, it didn't cost much." + +"I should think it most have cost a considerable sum." + +"Oh no! Clark saw to that. Clark got them places as steerage +passengers." + +"Young Brandon told me once that he came out as cabin passenger." + +"That's his cursed pride. He went out in the steerage, and a devilish +hard time he had too." + +"Why?" + +"Oh, he was a little crowded, I think! There were six hundred emigrants +on board the _Tecumseh_--" + +"The what?" + +"The _Tecumseh_. Clark did that business neatly. Each passenger had to +take his own provisions, so he supplied them with a lot. Now what do you +think he gave them?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"He bought them some damaged bread at one quarter the usual price. It +was all mouldy, you know," said Potts, trying to make Brandon see the +joke. "I declare Clark and I roared over it for a couple of months, +thinking how surprised they must have been when they sat down to eat +their first dinner." + +"That was very neat," rejoined Brandon. + +"They were all sick when they left," said Potts; "but before they got to +Quebec they were sicker, I'll bet." + +"Why so?" + +"Did you ever hear of the ship-fever?" said Potts, in a low voice which +sent a sharp trill through every fibre of Brandon's being. He could only +nod his head. + +"Well, the _Tecumseh_, with her six hundred passengers, afforded an +uncommon fine field for the ship-fever. That's what I was going to +observe. They had a great time at Quebec last summer; but it was +unanimously voted that the _Tecumseh_ was the worst ship of the lot. +I send out an agent to see what had become of my three friends, and +he came back and told me all. He said that about four hundred of the +_Tecumseh's_ passengers died during the voyage, and ever so many more +after the landing. The obtained a list of the dead from the quarantine +records, and among them were those of the these three youthful Brandons. +Yes, they joined old Cognac pretty soon--lovely and pleasant in their +lives, and in death not divided. But this young devil that you speak of +must have escaped. I dare say he did, for the confusion was awful." + +"But couldn't there have been another son?" + +"Oh no. There was another son, the eldest, the worst of the whole lot, +so infernally bad that even old Brandy himself couldn't stand it, but +packed him off to Botany Bay. It's well he went of his own accord, for +if he hadn't the law would have sent him there at last transported for +life." + +"Perhaps this man is the same one." + +"Oh no. This eldest Brandy is dead." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Certain--best authority. A business friend of mine was in the same ship +with him. Brandy was coming home to see his friends. He fell overboard +and my friend saw him drown. It was in the Indian Ocean." + +"When was that?" + +"Last September." + +"Oh, then this one must be the other of course!" + +"No doubt of that, I think," said Potts, cheerily. + +Brandon rose. "I feel much obliged. Sir John," said he, stiffly, and +with his usual nasal tone, "for your kindness. This is just what I want. +I'll put a stop to my young man's game. It's worth coming to England to +find out this." + +"Well, when you walk him out of your office, give him my respects and +tell him I'd be very happy to see him. For I would, you know. I really +would." + +"I'll tell him so," said Brandon, "and if he is alive perhaps he'll come +here." + +"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Potts. + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Brandon, and pretending not to see Potts's +outstretched hand, he bowed and left. He walked rapidly down the avenue. +He felt stifled. The horrors that had been revealed to him had been but +in part anticipated. Could there be any thing worse? + +He left the gates and walked quickly away, he knew not where. Turning +into a by-path he went up a hill and finally sat down. Brandon Hall lay +not far away. In front was the village and the sea beyond it. All the +time there was but one train of thoughts in his mind. His wrongs +took shape and framed themselves into a few sharply defined ideas. He +muttered to himself over and over the things that were in his mind: +"Myself disinherited and exiled! My father ruined and broken-hearted! +My father killed! My mother, brother, and sister banished, starved, and +murdered!" + +He, too, as far as Potts's will was concerned, had been slain. He was +alone and had no hope that any of his family could survive. Now, as he +sat there alone, he needed to make his plans for the future. One thing +stood out prominently before him, which was that he must go immediately +to Quebec to find out finally and absolutely the fate of the family. + +Then could any thing else be done in England? He thought over the names +of those who had been the most intimate friends of his father--Thornton, +Langhetti, Despard. Thornton had neglected his father in his hour of +need. He had merely sent a clerk to make inquiries after all was over. +The elder Langhetti, Brandon knew, was dead. Where were the others? None +of them, at any rate, had interfered. + +There remained the family of Despard. Brandon was aware that the Colonel +had a brother in the army, but where he was he knew not nor did he care. +If he chose to look in the army register he might very easily find out; +but why should he? He had never known or heard much of him in any way. + +There remained Courtenay Despard, the son of Lionel, he to whom the MS. +of the dead might be considered after all as chiefly devolving. Of him +Brandon knew absolutely nothing, not even whether he was alive or dead. + +For a time he discussed the question in his mind whether it might not +be well to seek him out so as to show him his father's fate and gain his +co-operation. But after a few moments' consideration he dismissed this +thought. Why should he seek his help? Courtenay Despard, if alive, might +be very unfit for the purpose. He might be timid, or indifferent, or +dull, or indolent. Why make any advances to one whom he did not know? +Afterward it might be well to find him, and see what might be done with +or through him; but as yet there could be no reason whatever why +he should take up his time in searching for him or in winning his +confidence. + +The end of it all was that he concluded whatever he did to do it by +himself, with no human being as his confidant. + +Only one or two persons in all the world knew that he was alive, and +they were not capable, under any circumstances, of betraying him. And +where now was Beatrice? In the power of this man whom Brandon had just +left. Had she seen him as he came and went? Had she heard his voice as +he spoke in that assumed tone? But Brandon found it necessary to crush +down all thoughts of her. + +One thing gave him profound satisfaction, and this was that Potts did +not suspect him for an instant. And now how could he deal with Potts? +The man had become wealthy and powerful. To cope with him needed wealth +and power. How could Brandon obtain these? At the utmost he could only +count upon the fifteen thousand pounds which Compton would remit. This +would be as nothing to help him against his enemy. He had written to +Compton that he had fallen overboard and been picked up, and had told +the same to the London agent under the strictest secrecy, so as to be +able to get the money which he needed. Yet after he got it all, what +would be the benefit? First of all, wealth was necessary. + +Now more than ever there came to his mind the ancestral letter which his +father had inclosed to him--the message from old Ralph Brandon in the +treasure-ship. It was a wild, mad hope; but was it unattainable? This +he felt was now the one object that lay before him; this must first be +sought after, and nothing else could be attempted or even thought +of till it had been tried. If he failed, then other things might be +considered. + +Sitting there on his lonely height, in sight of his ancestral home, he +took out his father's last letter and read it again, after which he once +more read the old message from the treasure-ship: + +"One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa +Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am +becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with +spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a +kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles in +countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands +of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl +and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken +alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others +tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this +cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe +that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd +from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like +III needles from the sande. + +"Ralphe Brandon" + +Five days afterward Brandon, with his Hindu servant, was sailing out of +the Mersey River on his way to Quebec. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +THE DEAD ALIVE. + +It was early in the month of August when Brandon visited the quarantine +station at Gosse Island, Quebec. A low, wooden building stood near the +landing, with a sign over the door containing only the word "OFFICE." +To this building Brandon directed his steps. On entering he saw only one +clerk there. + +"Are you the superintendent?" he asked, bowing courteously. + +"No," said the clerk. "He is in Quebec just now." + +"Perhaps you can give me the information that I want." + +"What is it?" + +"I have been sent to inquire after some passengers that came out here +last year." + +"Oh yes, I can tell all that can be told," said the clerk, readily. "We +have the registration books here, and you are at liberty to look up any +names you wish. Step this way, please." And he led the way to an inner +office. + +"What year did they come out in?" asked the clerk. + +"Last year." + +"Last year--an awful year to look up. 1846--yes, here is the book for +that year--a year which you are aware was an unparalleled one." + +"I have heard so." + +"Do you know the name of the ship?" + +"The _Tecumseh_." + +"The _Tecumseh_!" exclaimed the clerk, with a startled look. "That is +an awful name in our records. I am sorry you have not another name to +examine, for the _Tecumseh_ was the worst of all." + +Brandon bowed. + +"The _Tecumseh_," continued the clerk, turning over the leaves of the +book as it lay on the desk. "The _Tecumseh_, from Liverpool, sailed June +2, arrived August 16. Here you see the names of those who died at sea, +copied from the ship's books, and those who died on shore. It is a +frightful mortality. Would you like to look over the list?" + +Brandon bowed and advanced to the desk. + +"The deaths on board ship show whether they were seamen or passengers, +and the passengers are marked as cabin and steerage. But after landing +it was impossible to keep an account of classes." + +Brandon carefully ran his eye down the long list, and read each name. +Those for which he looked did not appear. At last he came to the list +of those who had died on shore. After reading a few names his eye was +arrested by one-- + +"_Brandon, Elizabeth_." + +It was his mother. He read on. He soon came to another-- + +"_Brandon, Edith_." It was his sister. + +"Do you find any of the names?" asked the clerk, seeing Brandon turn his +head. + +"Yes," said Brandon; "this is one," and he pointed to the last name. +"But I see a mark opposite that name. What is it? 'B' and 'A.' What is +the meaning?" "Is that party a relative of yours?" + +"No," said Brandon. + +"You don't mind hearing something horrible, then?" + +"No." + +The clerk drew a long breath. + +"Well, Sir, those letters were written by the late superintendent. The +poor man is now a lunatic. He was here last year. + +"You see this is how it was: The ship-fever broke out. The number +of sick was awful, and there were no preparations for them here. The +disease in some respects was worse than cholera, and there was nothing +but confusion. Very many died from lack of nursing. But the worst +feature of the whole thing was the hurried burials. + +"I was not here last year, and all who were here then have left. But +I've heard enough to make me sick with horror. You perhaps are aware +that in this ship-fever there sometimes occurs a total loss of sense, +which is apt to be mistaken for death?" + +The clerk paused. Brandon regarded him steadily for a moment. Then he +turned, and looked earnestly at the book. + +"The burials were very hastily made." + +"Well?" + +"And it is now believed that some were buried in a state of trance." + +"Buried alive?" + +"Buried alive!" + +There was a long silence. Brandon's eyes were fixed on the book. At last +he pointed to the name of Edith Brandon. + +"Then, I suppose," he said, in a steady voice, which, however, was in a +changed key, "these letters 'B' and 'A' are intended to mean something +of that description?" + +"Something of that sort," replied the clerk. + +Brandon drew a long breath. + +"But there is no certainty about it in this particular case. I will tell +you how these marks happened to be made. The clerk that was here last +told me. + +"One morning, according to him, the superintendent came in, looking very +much excited and altered. He went to this book, where the entries of +burials had been made on the preceding evening. This name was third from +the last. Twelve had been buried. He penciled these letters there and +left. People did not notice him: every body was sick or busy. At last +in the evening of the next day, when they were to bury a new lot, they +found the superintendent digging at the grave the third from the last. +They tried to stop him, but he shouted and moaned alternately 'Buried +alive!' 'Buried alive!' In fact they saw that he was crazy, and had to +confine him at once." + +"Did they examine the grave?" + +"Yes. The woman told my predecessor that she and her husband--who did +the burying--had examined it, and found the body not only dead, but +corrupt. So there's no doubt of it. That party must have been dead at +any rate." + +"Who was the woman?" + +"An old woman that laid them out. She and her husband buried them." + +"Where is she now?" + +"I don't know." + +"Does she stay here yet?" + +"No. She left last year." + +"What became of the superintendent?" + +"He was taken home, but grew no better. At last he had to be sent to an +asylum. Some examination was made by the authorities, but nothing ever +came of it. The papers made no mention of the affair, and it was hushed +up." + +Brandon read on. At last he came to another name. It was simply this: +"_Brandon_." There was a slight movement on the clerk's part as Brandon +came to this name. "There is no Christian name here," said Brandon. "I +suppose they did not know it." + +"Well," said the clerk, "there's something peculiar about that. The +former clerk never mentioned it to any body but me. That man didn't die +at all." + +"What do you mean?" said Brandon, who could scarcely speak for the +tremendous struggle between hope and despair that was going on within +him. + +"It's a false entry." + +"How?" + +"The superintendent wrote that. See, the handwriting is different from +the others. One is that of the clerk who made all these entries; the +other is the superintendent's." + +Brandon looked and saw that this was the case. + +"What was the cause of that?" + +"The clerk told me that after making these next fifteen entries of +buried parties--buried the evening after these last twelve--he went away +to see about something. When he came back the next morning this name was +written in the superintendent's hand. He did not know what to think of +it, so he concluded to ask the superintendent; but in the course of the +day he heard that he was mad and in confinement, as I have told you." + +"Then you mean that this is not an entry of a death at all." + +"Yes. The fact is, the superintendent for some reason got it into his +head that this Brandon"--and he pointed to Edith's name--"had been +buried alive. He brooded over the name, and among other things wrote it +down here at the end of the list for the day. That's the way in which my +predecessor accounted for it." + +"It is a very natural one," said Brandon. + +"Quite so." The clerk let it stand. You see, if he had erased it, he +might have been overhauled, and there would have been a committee. He +was afraid of that; so he thought it better to say nothing about it. He +wouldn't have told me, only he said that a party came here once for a +list of all the dead of the _Tecumseh_, and he copied all out, including +this doubtful one. He thought that he had done wrong, and therefore told +me, so that if any particular inquiries were ever made I might know what +to say." + +"Are there many mistakes in these records?" + +[Illustration: "A STRANGE FEELING PASSED OVER BRANDON. HE STEPPED +FORWARD."] + +"I dare say there are a good many in the list for 1846. There was so +much confusion that names got changed, and people died whose names could +only be conjectured by knowing who had recovered. As some of those that +recovered or had not been sick slipped away secretly, of course there +was inaccuracy." + +Brandon had nothing more to ask. He thanked the clerk and departed. + +There was a faint hope, then, that Frank might yet be alive. On his way +to Quebec he decided what to do. As soon as he arrived he inserted an +advertisement in the chief papers to the following effect: + +NOTICE: + +Information of any one of the names of "BRANDON," who came out in the +ship _Tecumseh_ in 1846 from Liverpool to Quebec, is earnestly desired +by friends of the family. A liberal reward will be given to any one who +can give the above information. Apply to: + +Henry Peters, 22 Place d'Armes. + +Brandon waited in Quebec six weeks without any results. He then went to +Montreal and inserted the same notice in the papers there, and in other +towns in Canada, giving his Montreal address. After waiting five or six +weeks in Montreal he went to Toronto, and advertised again, giving his +new address. He waited here for some time, till at length the month of +November began to draw to a close. Not yet despondent, he began to form +a plan for advertising in every city of the United States. + +Meanwhile he had received many communications, all of which, however, +were made with the vague hope of getting a reward. None were at all +reliable. At length he thought that it was useless to wait any longer in +Canada, and concluded to go to New York as a centre of action. + +He arrived in New York at the end of December, and immediately began to +insert his notices in all parts of the country, giving his address at +the Astor House. + +One day, as he came in from the street, he was informed that there was +some one in his room who wished to see him. He went up calmly, thinking +that it was some new person with intelligence. + +On entering the room he saw a man standing by the window, in his +shirt-sleeves, dressed in coarse clothes. The man was very tall, +broad-shouldered, with large, Roman features, and heavy beard and +mustache. His face was marked by profound dejection; he looked like one +whose whole life had been one long misfortune. Louis Brandon had never +seen any face which bore so deep an impress of suffering. + +The stranger turned as he came in and looked at him with his sad eyes +earnestly. + +"Sir," said he, in a voice which thrilled through Brandon, "are you +Henry Peters?" + +A strange feeling passed over Brandon. He stepped forward. + +"Frank!" he cried, in a broken voice. + +"Merciful Heavens!" cried the other. "Have you too come up from the +dead? Louis!" + +In this meeting between the two brothers, after so many eventful years +of separation, each had much to tell. Each had a story so marvelous +that the other might have doubted it, had not the marvels of his own +experience been equally great. Frank's story, however, is the only one +that the reader will care to hear, and that must be reserved for another +chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +FRANK'S STORY. + +"After you left," said Frank, "all went to confusion. Potts lorded +it with a higher hand than ever, and my father was more than ever +infatuated, and seemed to feel that it was necessary to justify his +harshness toward you by publicly exhibiting a greater confidence in +Potts. Like a thoroughly vulgar and base nature, this man could not be +content with having the power, but loved to exhibit that power to us. +Life to me for years became one long death; a hundred times I would have +turned upon the scoundrel and taken vengeance for our wrongs, but the +tears of my mother forced me to use self-control. You had been driven +off; I alone was left, and she implored me by my love for her to stand +by her. I wished her to take her own little property and go with me and +Edith where we might all live in seclusion together; but this she would +not do for fear of staining the proud Brandon name. + +"Potts grew worse and worse every year. There was a loathsome son of his +whom he used to bring with him, and my father was infatuated enough to +treat the younger devil with the same civility which he showed to the +elder one. Poor father! he really believed, as he afterward told me, +that these men were putting millions of money into his hands, and that +he would be the Beckford of his generation. + +"After a while another scoundrel, called Clark, appeared, who was simply +the counterpart of Potts. Of this man something very singular was soon +made known to me. + +"One day I was strolling through the grounds when suddenly, as I passed +through a grove which stood by a fish-pond, I heard voices and saw the +two men I hated most of all on earth standing near me. They were both +naked. They had the audacity to go bathing in the fishpond. Clark had +his back turned toward me, and I saw on it, below the neck, three marks, +fiery red, as though they had been made by a brand. They were these:" +and taking a pencil, Frank made the following marks: + +[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow] + + + R [sans-serif R] + + + + [plus sign] ] + +Louis looked at this with intense excitement. + +"You have been in New South Wales," said Frank, "and perhaps know +whether it is true or not that these are brands on convicts?" + +"It is true, and on convicts of the very worst kind." + +"Do you know what they mean?" + +"Yes." + +"What?" + +"Only the worst are branded with a single mark, so you may imagine what +a triple mark indicates. But I will tell you the meaning of each. +The first (/|\) is the king's mark put on those who are totally +irreclaimable and insubordinate. The second (R) means runaway, and is +put on those who have attempted to escape. The third (+) indicated a +murderous attack on the guards. When they are not hung, they are branded +with this mark; and those who are branded in this way are condemned to +hard work, in chains, for life." + +"That's about what I supposed," said Frank, quietly, "only of course you +are more particular. After seeing this I told my father. He refused +to believe me. I determined to bring matters to a crisis, and charged +Potts, in my father's presence, with associating with a branded felon. +Potts at once turned upon me and appealed to my father's sense of +justice. He accused me of being so far carried away by prejudice as not +to hesitate to invent a foul slander against an honest man. He said that +Clark would be willing to be put to any test; he could not, however, +ask him to expose himself--it was too outrageous but would simply assert +that my charge was false. + +"My father as usual believed every word and gave me a stern reprimand. +Louis, in the presence of my mother and sister I cursed my father on +that day. Poor man! the blow soon fell. It was in 1845 that the crash +came. I have not the heart to go into details now. I will tell you from +time to time hereafter. It is enough to say that every penny was lost. +We had to leave the Hall and took a little cottage in the village. + +"All our friends and acquaintances stood aloof. My father's oldest +friends never came near him. Old Langhetti was dead. His son knew +nothing about this. I will tell you more of him presently. + +"Colonel Lionel Despard was dead. His son, Courtenay, was ignorant of +all this, and was away in the North of England. There was Thornton, and +I can't account for his inaction. He married Langhetti's daughter too. +That is a mystery." + +"They are all false, Frank." + +Frank looked up with something like it smile. + +"No, not all; wait till you hear me through." + +Frank drew a long breath. "We got sick there, and Potts had us taken +to the alms-house. There we all prayed for death, but only my father's +prayer was heard. He died of a broken heart. The rest of us lived on. + +"Scarcely had my father been buried when Potts came to take us away. He +insisted that we should leave the country, and offered to pay our way +to America. We were all indifferent: we were paralyzed by grief. The +alms-house was not a place that we could cling to, so we let ourselves +drift, and allowed Potts to send us wherever he wished. We did not even +hope for any thing better. We only hoped that somewhere or other we +might all die. What else could we do? What else could I do? There was no +friend to whom I could look: and if I ever thought of any thing, it +was that America might possibly afford us a chance to get a living till +death came. + +"So we allowed ourselves to be sent wherever Potts chose, since it could +not possibly make things worse than they were. He availed himself of our +stolid indifference, put us as passengers in the steerage on board of +a crowded emigrant ship, the _Tecumseh_, and gave us for our provisions +some mouldy bread. + +"We simply lived and suffered, and were all waiting for death, till one +day an angel appeared who gave us a short respite, and saved us for a +while from misery. This angel, Louis, was Paolo, the son of Langhetti. + +"You look amazed. It was certainly an amazing thing that he should be on +board the same ship with us. He was in the cabin. He noticed our misery +without knowing who we were. He came to give us pity and help us. When +at last he found out our names he fell on our necks, kissed us, and wept +aloud. + +"He gave up his room in the cabin to my mother and sister, and slept and +lived with me. Most of all he cheered us by the lofty, spiritual words +with which he bade us look with contempt upon the troubles of life and +aspire after immortal happiness. Yes, Louis; Langhetti gave us peace. + +"There were six hundred passengers. The plague broke out among us. The +deaths every day increased, and all were filled with despair. At last +the sailors themselves began to die. + +"I believe there was only one in all that ship who preserved calm reason +and stood without fear during those awful weeks. That one was Langhetti. +He found the officers of the ship panic-stricken, so he took charge of +the steerage, organized nurses, watched over every thing, encouraged +every body, and labored night and day. In the midst of all I fell sick, +and he nursed me back to life. Most of all, that man inspired fortitude +by the hope that beamed in his eyes, and by the radiancy of his smile. +'Never mind, Brandon,' said he as I lay, I thought doomed. 'Death is +nothing. Life goes on. You will leave this pest-ship for a realm of +light. Keep up your heart, my brother immortal, and praise God with your +latest breath.' + +"I recovered, and then stood by his side as best I might. I found that +he had never told my mother of my sickness. At last my mother and +sister in the cabin fell sick. I heard of it some days after, and was +prostrated again. I grew better after a time; but just as we reached +quarantine, Langhetti, who had kept himself up thus far, gave out +completely, and fell before the plague." + +"Did he die?" asked Louis, in a faltering voice. + +"Not on ship-board. He was carried ashore senseless. My mother and +sister were very low, and were also carried on shore. I, though weak, +was able to nurse them all. My mother died first." + +There was a long pause. At last Frank resumed: + +"My sister gradually recovered: and then, through grief and fatigue, I +fell sick for the third time. I felt it coming on. My sister nursed me; +for a time I thought I was going to die. 'Oh, Edith,' I said, 'when I +die, devote your life while it lasts to Langhetti, whom God sent to us +in our despair. Save his life even if you give up your own.' + +"After that I became delirious, and remained so for a long time. Weeks +passed; and when at last I revived the plague was stayed, and but few +sick were on the island. My case was a lingering one, for this was the +third attack of the fever. Why I didn't die I can't understand. There +was no attendance. All was confusion, horror, and death. + +"When I revived the first question was after Langhetti and Edith. No one +knew any thing about them. In the confusion we had been separated, and +Edith had died alone." + +"Who told you that she died?" asked Louis, with a troubled look. + +Frank looked at him with a face of horror. + +"Can you bear what I am going to say?" + +"Yes." + +"When I was able to move about I went to see if any one could tell +me about Edith and Langhetti. I heard an awful story; that the +superintendent had gone mad and had been found trying to dig open a +grave, saying that some one was _buried alive_. Who do you think? oh, my +brother!" + +"Speak!" + +"Edith Brandon was the name he named." + +"Be calm, Frank: I made inquiries myself at the island registry-office. +The clerk told me this story, but said that the woman who had charge of +the dead asserted that the grave was opened, and it was ascertained that +absolute death had taken place. + +"Alas!" said Frank, in a voice of despair, "I saw that woman--the keeper +of the dead-house--the grave-digger's wife. She told me this story, but +it was with a troubled eye. I swore vengeance on her unless she told me +the truth. She was alarmed, and said she would reveal all she knew if I +swore to keep it to myself. I swore it. Can you bear to hear it, Louis?" + +"Speak!" + +"She said only this: 'When the grave was opened it was found that Edith +Brandon had not been dead when she was buried.'" + +Louis groaned, and, falling forward, buried his head in both his hands. + +It was a long time before either of them spoke. At last Louis, without +lifting his head, said: + +"Go on." + +"When I left the island I went to Quebec, but could not stay there. It +was too near the place of horror. I went up the river, working my way as +a laborer, to Montreal. I then sought for work, and obtained employment +as porter in a warehouse. What mattered it? What was rank or station to +me? I only wanted to keep myself from starvation and get a bed to sleep +on at night. + +"I had no hope or thought of any thing. The horrors through which I had +passed were enough to fill my mind. Yet above them all one horror was +predominant, and never through the days and nights that have since +elapsed has my soul ceased to quiver at the echo of two terrible words +which have never ceased to ring through my brain--'Buried alive!' + +"I lived on in Montreal, under an assumed name, as a common porter, and +might have been living there yet; but one day as I came in I heard the +name of 'Brandon.' Two of the clerks who were discussing the news in the +morning paper happened to speak of an advertisement which had long been +in the papers in all parts of Canada. It was for information about the +Brandon family. + +"I read the notice. It seemed to me at first that Potts was still +trying to get control of us, but a moment's reflection showed that to +be improbable. Then the mention of 'the friends of the family' made me +think of Langhetti. I concluded that he had escaped death and was trying +to find me out. + +"I went to Toronto, and found that you had gone to New York. I had saved +much of my wages, and was able to come here. I expected Langhetti, but +found you." + +"Why did you not think that it might be me?" + +"Because I heard a threat of Potts about you, and took it for granted +that he would succeed in carrying it out." + +"What was the threat?" + +"He found out somehow that my father had written a letter to you. I +suppose they told him so at the village post-office. One day when he was +in the room he said, with a laugh, alluding to the letter, 'I'll uncork +that young Brandy-flask before long.'" + +"Well--the notice of my death appeared in the English papers." + +Frank looked earnestly at him. + +"And I accept it, and go under an assumed name." + +"So do I. It is better." + +"You thought Langhetti alive. Do you think he is?" + +"I do not think so now." + +"Why not?" + +"The efforts which he made were enough to kill any man without the +plague. He must have died." + +After hearing Frank's story Louis gave a full account of his own +adventures, omitting, however, all mention of Beatrice. That was +something for his own heart, and not for another's ear. + +"Have you the letter and MS.?" + +"Yes." + +"Let me read them." + +Louis took the treasures and handed them to Frank. He read them in +silence. + +"Is Cato with you yet?" + +"Yes." + +"It is well." + +"And now, Frank," said Louis, "you have something at last to live for." + +"What is that?" + +"Vengeance!" cried Louis, with burning eyes. + +"Vengeance!" repeated Frank, without emotion--"Vengeance! What is +that to me? Do you hope to give peace to your own heart by inflicting +suffering on our enemies? What can they possibly suffer that can atone +for what they have inflicted? All that they can feel is as nothing +compared with what we have felt. Vengeance!" he repeated, musingly; "and +what sort of vengeance? Would you kill them? What would that effect? +Would he be more miserable than he is? Or would you feel any greater +happiness? Or do you mean something more far-reaching than death?" + +"Death," said Louis, "is nothing for such crimes as his." + +"You want to inflict suffering, then, and you ask me. Well, after all, +do I want him to suffer? Do I care for this man's sufferings? What are +they or what can they be to me? He stands on his own plane, far beneath +me; he is a coarse animal, who can, perhaps, suffer from nothing but +physical pain. Should I inflict that on him, what good would it be to +me? And yet there is none other that I can inflict." + +"Langhetti must have transformed you," said Louis, "with his spiritual +ideas." + +"Langhetti; or perhaps the fact that I three times gazed upon the face +of death and stood upon the threshold of that place where dwells the +Infinite Mystery. So when you speak of mere vengeance my heart does not +respond. But there is still something which may make a purpose as strong +as vengeance." + +"Name it." + +"The sense of intolerable wrong!" cried Frank, in vehement tones; "the +presence of that foul pair in the home of our ancestors, our own exile, +and all the sufferings of the past! Do you think that I can endure +this?" + +"No--you must have vengeance." + +"No; not vengeance." + +"What then?" + +"Justice!" cried Frank, starting to his feet. "Justice--strict, stern, +merciless; and that justice means to me all that you mean by vengeance. +Let us make war against him from this time forth while life lasts; let +us cast him out and get back our own; let us put him into the power of +the law, and let that take satisfaction on him for his crimes; let us +cast him out and fling him from us to that power which can fittingly +condemn. I despise him, and despise his sufferings. His agony will give +me no gratification. The anguish that a base nature can suffer is only +disgusting to me--he suffers only out of his baseness. To me, and with a +thing like that, vengeance is impossible, and justice is enough." + +"At any rate you will have a purpose, and your purpose points to the +same result as mine." + +"But how is this possible?" said Frank. "He is strong, and we are weak. +What can we do?" + +"We can try," said Louis. "You are ready to undertake any thing. You +do not value your life. There is one thing which is before us. It is +desperate--it is almost hopeless; but we are both ready to try it." + +"What is that?" + +"The message from the dead," said Louis, spreading before Frank that +letter from the treasure-ship which he himself had so often read. + +"And are you going to try this?" + +"Yes." + +"How?" + +"I don't know. I must first find out the resources of science." + +"Have you Cato yet?" + +"Yes." + +"Can he dive?" + +"He was brought up on the Malabar coast, among the pearl-fishers, and +can remain under water for an incredible space of time. But I hope +to find means which will enable me myself to go down under the ocean +depths. This will be our object now. If it succeeds, then we can gain +our purpose; if not, we must think of something else." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +THE DIVING BUSINESS. + +In a little street that runs from Broadway, not far from Wall Street, +there was a low doorway with dingy panes of glass, over which was a sign +which bore the following letters, somewhat faded: + +BROCKET & CO., CONTRACTORS + +About a month after his arrival at New York Brandon entered this place +and walked up to the desk, where a stout, thick-set man was sitting, +with his chin on his hands and his elbows on the desk before him. + +"Mr. Brocket?" said Brandon, inquiringly. + +"Yes, Sir," answered the other, descending from his stool and stepping +forward toward Brandon, behind a low table which stood by the desk. + +"I am told that you undertake contracts for raising sunken vessels?" + +"We are in that line of business." + +"You have to make use of diving apparatus?" + +"Yes." + +"I understand that you have gone into this business to a larger extent +than any one in America?" + +"Yes, Sir," said Brocket, modestly. "I think we do the leading business +in that line." + +"I will tell you frankly my object in calling upon you. I have just come +from the East Indies for the purpose of organizing a systematic plan for +the pearl fisheries. You are aware that out there they still cling to +the old fashion of diving, which was begun three thousand years ago. I +wish to see if I can not bring science to bear upon it, so as to raise +the pearl-oysters in larger quantities." + +"That's a good idea of yours," remarked Mr. Brocket, thoughtfully. + +"I came to you to see if you could inform me whether it would be +practicable or not." + +"Perfectly so," said Brocket. + +"Do you work with the diving-bell in your business or with armor?" + +"With both. We use the diving-bell for stationary purposes; but when it +is necessary to move about we employ armor." + +"Is the armor adapted to give a man any freedom of movement?" + +"The armor is far better than the bell. The armor is so perfect now +that a practiced hand can move about under water with a freedom that is +surprising. My men go down to examine sunken ships. They go in and out +and all through them. Sometimes this is the most profitable part of our +business." + +"Why so?" + +"Why, because there is often money or valuable articles on board, and +these always are ours. See," said Brocket, opening a drawer and taking +out some silver coin, "here is some money that we found in an old Dutch +vessel that was sunk up the Hudson a hundred years ago. Our men walked +about the bed of the river till they found her, and in her cabin they +obtained a sum of money that would surprise you--all old coin." + +"An old Dutch vessel! Do you often find vessels that have been sunk so +long ago?" + +"Not often. But we are always on the lookout for them," said Brocket, +who had now grown quite communicative. "You see, those old ships always +carried ready cash--they didn't use bank-notes and bills of exchange. So +if you can only find one you're sure of money." + +"Then this would be a good thing to bear in mind in our pearl +enterprise?" + +"Of course. I should think that out there some reefs must be full of +sunken ships. They've been sinking about those coasts ever since the +first ship was built." + +"How far down can a diver go in armor? + +"Oh, any reasonable depth, when the pressure of the water is not too +great. Some pain in the ears is felt at first from the compressed air, +but that is temporary. Men can easily go down as far as fifteen or +sixteen fathoms." + +"How long can they stay down?" + +"In the bells, you know, they go down and are pulled up only in the +middle of the day and at evening, when their work is done." + +"How with the men in armor?" + +"Oh, they can stand it almost as well. They come up oftener, though. +There is one advantage in the armor: a man can fling off his weight and +come up whenever he likes." + +"Have you ever been down yourself?" + +"Oh yes--oftener than any of my men. I'm the oldest diver in the +country, I think. But I don't go down often now. It's hard work, and I'm +getting old." + +"Is it much harder than other work?" + +"Well, you see, it's unnatural sort of work, and is hard on the lungs. +Still, I always was healthy. The real reason why I stopped was a +circumstance that happened two years ago." + +"What was that?" + +Brocket drew a long breath, looked for a moment meditatively at the +floor, and then went on: + +"Well, there happened to be a wreck of a steamer called the _Saladin_ +down off the North Carolina coast, and I thought I would try her as a +speculation, for I supposed that there might be considerable money on +board one way or another. It was a very singular affair. Only two men +had escaped; it was so sudden. They said the vessel struck a rock +at night when the water was perfectly still, and went down in a few +minutes, before the passengers could even be awakened. It may seem +horrid to you, but you must know that a ship-load of passengers is very +profitable, for they all carry money. Besides, there are their trunks, +and the clerk's desk, and so on. So, this time, I went down myself. The +ship lay on one side of the rock which had pierced her, having floated +off just before sinking; and I had no difficulty in getting on board. +After walking about the deck I went at once into the saloon. Sir," said +Brocket, with an awful look at Brandon, "if I should live for a hundred +years I should never forget the sight that I saw. A hundred passengers +or more had been on board, and most of them had rushed out of their +state-rooms as the vessel began to sink. Very many of them lay on the +floor, a frightful multitude of dead. + +"But there were others," continued Brocket, in a lower tone, "who had +clutched at pieces of furniture, at the doors, and at the chairs, and +many of these had held on with such a rigid clutch that death itself had +not unlocked it. Some were still upright, with distorted features, and +staring eyes, clinging, with frantic faces, to the nearest object +that they had seen. Several of them stood around the table. The most +frightful thing was this: that they were all staring at the door. + +"But the worst one of all was a corpse that was on the saloon table. +The wretch had leaped there in his first mad impulse, and his hands had +clutched a brass bar that ran across. He was facing the door; his hands +were still clinging, his eyes glared at me, his jaw had fallen, The +hideous face seemed grimacing at and threatening me. As I entered the +water was disturbed by my motion. An undulation set in movement by my +entrance passed through the length of the saloon. All the corpses swayed +for a moment. I stopped in horror. Scarcely had I stopped when the +corpses, agitated by the motion of the water and swaying, lost their +hold; their fingers slipped, and they fell forward simultaneously. Above +all, that hideous figure on the table, as its fingers were loosened, in +falling forward, seemed to take steps, with his demon face still staring +at me. My blood ran cold. It seemed to me as though these devils were +all rushing at me, led on by that fiend on the table. For the first time +in my life, Sir, I felt fear under the sea. I started back, and rushed +out quaking as though all hell was behind me. When I got up to the +surface I could not speak. I instantly left the _Saladin_, came home +with my men, and have never been down myself since." + +A long conversation followed about the general condition of sunken +ships. Brocket had no fear of rivals in business, and as his +interlocutor did not pretend to be one he was exceedingly communicative. +He described to him the exact depth to which a diver in armor might +safely go, the longest time that he could safely remain under water, the +rate of travel in walking along a smooth bottom, and the distance which +one could walk. He told him how to go on board of a wrecked ship with +the least risk or difficulty, and the best mode by which to secure any +valuables which he might find. At last he became so exceedingly +friendly that Brandon asked him if he would be willing to give personal +instructions to himself, hinting that money was no object, and that any +price would be paid. + +At this Brocket laughed. "My dear Sir, you take my fancy, for I think +I see in you a man of the right sort. I should be very glad to show any +one like you how to go to work. Don't mention money; I have actually got +more now than I know what to do with, and I'm thinking of founding an +asylum for the poor. I'll sell you any number of suits of armor, if you +want them, merely in the way of business; but if I give you instructions +it will be merely because I like to oblige a man like you." + +Brandon of course expressed all the gratitude that so generous an offer +could excite. + +"But there's no use trying just yet; wait till the month of May, and +then you can begin. You have nerve, and I have no doubt that you'll +learn fast." + +After this interview Brandon had many others. To give credibility to +his pretended plan for the pearl fisheries, he bought a dozen suits +of diving armor and various articles which Brocket assured him that +he would need. He also brought Cato with him one day, and the Hindu +described the plan which the pearl-divers pursued on the Malabar coast. +According to Cato each diver had a stone which weighed about thirty +pounds tied to his foot, and a sponge filled with oil fastened around +his neck. On plunging into the water, the weight carried him down. When +the diver reached the bottom the oiled sponge was used from time to time +to enable him to breathe by inhaling the air through the sponge applied +to his mouth. All this was new to Brocket. It excited his ardor. + +The month of May at last came. Brocket showed them a place in the +Hudson, about twenty miles above the city, where they could practice. +Under his direction Brandon put on the armor and went down. Frank worked +the pumps which supplied him with air, and Cato managed the boat. The +two Brandons learned their parts rapidly, and Louis, who had the hardest +task, improved so quickly, and caught the idea of the work so readily, +that Brocket enthusiastically assured him that he was a natural-born +diver. + +All this time Brandon was quietly making arrangements for a voyage. +He gradually obtained every thing which might by any possibility be +required, and which he found out by long deliberations with Frank and by +hints which he gained by well-managed questions to Brocket. + +Thus the months of May and June passed until at length they were ready +to start. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ. + +It was July when Brandon left New York for San Salvador. + +He had purchased a beautiful little schooner, which he had fitted up +like a gentleman's yacht, and stored with all the articles which might +be needed. In cruising about the Bahama Isles he intended to let it be +supposed that he was traveling for pleasure. True, the month of July was +not the time of the year which pleasure-seekers would choose for sailing +in the West Indies, but of this he did not take much thought. + +The way to the Bahama Isles was easy. They stopped for a while at +Nassau, and then went to San Salvador. + +The first part of the New World which Columbus discovered is now but +seldom visited, and few inhabitants are found there. Only six hundred +people dwell upon it, and these have in general but little intelligence. +On reaching this place Brandon sailed to the harbor which Columbus +entered, and made many inquiries about that immortal landing. Traditions +still survived among the people, and all were glad to show the rich +Englishman the lions of the place. + +He was thus enabled to make inquiries without exciting suspicion about +the islands lying to the north. He was informed that about four leagues +north there was an island named Guahi, and as there was no island known +in that direction named Santa Cruz, Brandon thought that this might +be the one. He asked if there were any small islets or sand-banks near +there, but no one could tell him. Having gained all the information that +he could he pursued his voyage. + +In that hot season there was but little wind. The seas were visited by +profound calms which continued long and rendered navigation slow and +tedious. Sometimes, to prevent themselves from being swept away by the +currents, they had to cast anchor. At other times they were forced to +keep in close by the shore. They waited till the night came on, and +then, putting out the sweeps, they rowed the yacht slowly along. + +It was the middle of July before they reached the island of Guahi, which +Brandon thought might be Santa Cruz. If so, then one league due north +of this there ought to be the islet of the Three Needles. Upon the +discovery of that would depend their fate. + +It was evening when they reached the southern shore of Guahi. Now was +the time when all the future depended upon the fact of the existence of +an islet to the north. That night on the south shore was passed in deep +anxiety. They rowed the vessel on with their sweeps, but the island was +too large to be passed in one night. Morning came, and still they rowed. + +The morning passed, and the hot sun burned down upon them, yet they +still toiled on, seeking to pass beyond a point which lay ahead, so as +to see the open water to the north. Gradually they neared it, and the +sea-view in front opened up more and more widely. There was nothing but +water. More and more of the view exposed itself, until at last the whole +horizon was visible. Yet there was no land there--no island--no sign of +those three rocks which they longed so much to find. + +A light wind arose which enabled them to sail over all the space that +lay one league to the north. They sounded as they went, but found +only deep water. They looked all around, but found not so much as the +smallest point of land above the surface of the ocean. + +That evening they cast anchor and went ashore at the island of Guahi +to see if any one knew of other islands among which might be found one +named Santa Cruz. Their disappointment was profound. Brandon for a while +thought that perhaps some other San Salvador was meant in the letter. +This very idea had occurred to him before, and he had made himself +acquainted with all the places of that name that existed. None of them +seemed, however, to answer the requirements of the writing. Some must +have gained the name since; others were so situated that no island could +be mentioned as lying to the north. On the whole, it seemed to him that +this San Salvador of Columbus could alone be mentioned. It was +alluded to as a well-known place, of which particular description was +unnecessary, and no other place at that day had this character except +the one on which he had decided. + +One hope yet remained, a faint one, but still a hope, and this might yet +be realized. It was that Guahi was not Santa Cruz; but that some other +island lay about here, which might be considered as north from San +Salvador. This could be ascertained here in Guahi better perhaps than +any where else. With this faint hope he landed. + +Guahi is only a small island, and there are but few inhabitants upon +it, who support themselves partly by fishing. In this delightful climate +their wants are not numerous, and the rich soil produces almost any +thing which they desire. The fish about here are not plentiful, and what +they catch have to be sought for at a long distance off. + +"Are there any other islands near this?" asked Brandon of some people +whom he met on landing. + +"Not very near." + +"Which is the nearest?" + +"San Salvador." + +"Are there any others in about this latitude?" + +"Well, there is a small one about twelve leagues east. There are no +people on it though." + +"What is its name?" + +"Santa Cruz." + +Brandon's heart beat fast at the sound of that name. It must be so. It +must be the island which he sought. It lay to the north of San Salvador, +and its name was Santa Cruz. + +"It is not down on the charts?" + +"No. It is only a small islet." + +Another confirmation, for the message said plainly an islet, whereas +Guahi was an island. + +"How large is it?" + +"Oh, perhaps a mile or a mile and a half long." + +"Is there any other island near it?" + +"I don't know." + +"Have you ever been there?" + +"No." + +Plainly no further information could be gathered here. It was enough +to have hope strengthened and an additional chance for success. Brandon +obtained as near as possible the exact direction of Santa Cruz, and, +going back to the yacht, took advantage of the light breeze which still +was blowing and set sail. + +[Illustration: "AN ISLAND COVERED WITH PALM-TREES LAY THERE."] + +Night came on very dark, but the breeze still continued to send its +light breath, and before this the vessel gently glided on. Not a thing +could be seen in that intense darkness. Toward morning Louis Brandon, +who had remained up all night in his deep anxiety, tried to pierce +through the gloom as he strained his eyes, and seemed as though he would +force the darkness to reveal that which he sought. But the darkness gave +no token. + +Not Columbus himself, when looking out over these waters, gazed with +greater eagerness nor did his heart beat with greater anxiety of +suspense, than that which Brandon felt as his vessel glided slowly +through the dark waters, the same over which Columbus had passed, and +moved amidst the impenetrable gloom. But the long night of suspense +glided by at last; the darkness faded, and the dawn came. + +Frank Brandon, on waking about sunrise, came up and saw his brother +looking with fixed intensity of gaze at something directly in front. He +turned to see what it might be. + +An island covered with palm-trees lay there. Its extent was small, but +it was filled with the rich verdure of the tropics. The gentle breeze +ruffled the waters, but did not altogether efface the reflection of that +beautiful islet. + +Louis pointed toward the northeast. + +Frank looked. + +It seemed to be about two miles away. It was a low sand island about a +quarter of a mile long. From its surface projected three rocks thin and +sharp. They were at unequal distances from each other, and in the middle +of the islet. The tallest one might have been about twelve feet in +height, the others eight and ten feet respectively. + +Louis and Frank exchanged one long look, but said not a word. That look +was an eloquent one. + +This then was unmistakably the place of their search. + +The islet with the three rocks like needles lying north of Santa Cruz. +One league due north of this was the spot where now rested all their +hopes. + +The island of Santa Cruz was, as had been told them, not more than a +mile and a half in length, the sand island with the needles lay about +two miles north of it. On the side of Santa Cruz which lay nearest to +them was a small cove just large enough for the yacht. Here, after some +delay, they were able to enter and land. + +The tall trees that covered the island rose over beautiful glades and +grassy slopes. Too small and too remote to give support to any number +of inhabitants, it had never been touched by the hand of man, but stood +before them in all that pristine beauty with which nature had first +endowed it. It reminded Brandon in some degree of that African island +where he had passed some time with Beatrice. The recollection of this +brought over him an intolerable melancholy, and made the very beauty of +this island painful to him. Yet hope was now strong within his heart, +and as he traversed its extent his eye wandered about in search of +places where he might be able to conceal the treasure that lay under +the sea, if he were ever able to recover it from its present place. The +island afforded many spots which were well adapted to such a purpose. + +In the centre of the island a rock jutted up, which was bald and flat on +its summit. On the western side it showed a precipice of some forty or +fifty feet in height, and on the eastern side it descended to the water +in a steep slope. The tall trees which grew all around shrouded it from +the view of those at sea, but allowed the sea to be visible on every +side. Climbing to this place, they saw something which showed them that +they could not hope to carry on any operations for that day. + +On the other side of the island, about ten miles from the shore, there +lay a large brig becalmed. It looked like one of those vessels that are +in the trade between the United States and the West Indies. As long +as that vessel was in the neighborhood it would not do even to make +a beginning, nor did Brandon care about letting his yacht be seen. +Whatever he did he wished to do secretly. + +The brig continued in sight all day, and they remained on the island. +Toward evening they took the small boat and rowed out to the sandbank +which they called Needle Islet. It was merely a low spit of sand, with +these three singularly-shaped rocks projecting upward. There was nothing +else whatever to be seen upon it. The moon came up as they stood there, +and their eyes wandered involuntarily to the north, to that place, a +league away, where the treasure lay beneath the waters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +THE OCEAN DEPTHS. + +The next morning dawned and Brandon hurried to the rock and looked +around. During the night a slight wind had sprung up, and was still +gently breathing. Far over the wide sea there was not a sail to be seen. +The brig had passed away. They were finally left to themselves. + +Now at last the time of trial had come. They were eager to make the +attempt, and soon the yacht was unmoored, and moved slowly out to sea in +the direction of Needle Island. A light breeze still blew fitfully, but +promised at any moment to stop; yet while it lasted they passed onward +under its gentle impulse, and so gradually reached Needle Island, and +went on into the sea beyond. + +Before they had come to the spot which they wished to attain the breeze +had died out, and they were compelled to take to the oars. Although +early in the morning the sun was burning hot, the work was laborious, +and the progress was slow. Yet not a murmur was heard, nor did a single +thought of fatigue enter the minds of any of them. One idea only was +present--one so overwhelming that all lesser thoughts and all ordinary +feelings were completely obliterated. After two hours of steady labor +they at last reached a place which seemed to them to be exactly one +league due north of Needle Islet. Looking back they saw that the rocks +on the island seemed from this distance closer together, and thinner +and sharper, so that they actually bore a greater resemblance to needles +from this point than to any thing else. + +Here they sounded. The water was fifteen fathoms deep--not so great a +depth as they had feared. Then they put down the anchor, for although +there was no wind, yet the yacht might be caught in some current, and +drift gradually away from the right position. + +The small boat had all this time been floating astern with the pumping +apparatus in it, so that the adventurous diver might readily be +accompanied in his search and his wanderings at the bottom of the sea. + +But there was the prospect that this search would be long and arduous, +and Brandon was not willing to exhaust himself too soon. He had already +resolved that the first exploration should be made by Asgeelo. The Hindu +had followed Brandon in all his wanderings with that silent submission +and perfect devotion which is more common among Hindus than any other +people. He had the air of one who was satisfied with obeying his master, +and did not ask the end of any commands which might be given. He was +aware that they were about to explore the ocean depths, but showed no +curiosity about the object of their search. It was Brandon's purpose to +send him down first at different points, so that he might see if there +was any thing there which looked like what they sought. + +Asgeelo--or Cato, as Brandon commonly called him--had made those simple +preparations which are common among his class--the apparatus which the +pearl-divers have used ever since pearl-diving first commenced. Twelve +or fifteen stones were in the boat, a flask of oil, and a sponge which +was fastened around his neck. These were all that he required. Each +stone weighed about thirty pounds. One of these he tied around one foot; +he saturated the sponge with oil, so as to use it to inhale air beneath +the water; and then, standing on the edge of the boat and flinging his +arms straight up over his head, he leaped into the water and went down +feet foremost. + +Over the smooth water the ripples flowed from the spot where Asgeelo had +disappeared, extending in successive concentric circles, and radiating +in long undulations far and wide. Louis and Frank waited in deep +suspense. Asgeelo remained long beneath the water, but to them the time +seemed frightful in its duration. Profound anxiety began to mingle with +the suspense, for fear lest the faithful servant in his devotion +had over-rated his powers--lest the disuse of his early practice had +weakened his skill--lest the weight bound to his foot had dragged him +down and kept him there forever. + +At last, when the suspense had become intolerable and the two had +already begun to exchange glances almost of despair, a plash was heard, +and Asgeelo emerged far to the right. He struck out strongly toward the +boat, which was at once rowed toward him. In a few minutes he was taken +in. He did not appear to be much exhausted. + +He had seen nothing. + +[Illustration: "A dark, sinewy arm emerged from beneath, armed with a +long, keen knife."] + +They then rowed about a hundred yards further, and Asgeelo prepared to +descend once more. He squeezed the oil out of the sponge and renewed it +again. But this time he took a knife in his hand. + +"What is that for?" asked Frank and Louis. + +"Sharks!" answered Cato, in a terrible tone. + +At this Louis and Frank exchanged glances. Could they let this devoted +servant thus tempt so terrible a death? + +"Did you see any sharks?" asked Louis. + +"No, Sahib." + +"Why do you fear them, then?" + +"I don't fear them, Sahib." + +"Why do you take this knife?" + +"One may come, Sahib." + +After some hesitation Asgeelo was allowed to go. As before he plunged +into the water, and remained underneath quite as long; but now they +had become familiarized with his powers and the suspense was not so +dreadful. At the expiration of the usual time he reappeared, and on +being taken into the boat he again announced that he had seen nothing. + +They now rowed a hundred yards farther on in the same direction, toward +the east, and Asgeelo made another descent. He came back with the same +result. + +It began to grow discouraging, but Asgeelo was not yet fatigued, and +they therefore determined to let him work as long as he was able. He +went down seven times more. They still kept the boat on toward the east +till the line of "needles" on the sand island had become thrown +farther apart and stood at long distances. Asgeelo came up each time +unsuccessful. + +He at last went down for the eleventh time. They were talking as usual, +not expecting that he would reappear for some minutes, when suddenly a +shout was heard, and Asgeelo's head emerged from the water not more than +twenty yards from the boat. He was swimming with one hand, and in the +other he held an uplifted knife, which he occasionally brandished in the +air and splashed in the water. + +Immediately the cause of this became manifest. Just behind him a sharp +black fin appeared cutting the surface of the water. + +It was a shark! But the monster, a coward like all his tribe, deterred +by the plashing of the water made by Asgeelo, circled round him and +hesitated to seize his prey. The moment was frightful. Yet Asgeelo +appeared not in the least alarmed. He swam slowly, occasionally turning +his head and watching the monster, seeming by his easy dexterity to be +almost as much in his native element as his pursuer, keeping his eyes +fixed on him and holding his knife in a firm clasp. The knife was a +long, keen blade, which Asgeelo had carried with him for years. + +Louis and Frank could do nothing. A pistol ball could not reach this +monster, who kept himself under the water, where a ball would be spent +before striking him, if indeed any aim could direct a bullet toward that +swift darting figure. They had nothing to do but to look on in an agony +of horror. + +Asgeelo, compelled to watch, to guard, to splash the water, and to +turn frequently, made but a slow passage over those twenty yards which +separated him from the boat. At last it seemed as if he chose to stay +there. It seemed to those who watched him with such awful horror that +he might have escaped had he chosen, but that he had some idea of +voluntarily encountering the monster. This became evident at last, as +the shark passed before him when they saw Asgeelo's face turned toward +it; a face full of fierce hate and vengeance; a face such as one turns +toward some mortal enemy. + +He made a quick, fierce stroke with his long knife. The shark gave a +leap upward. The water was tinged with blood. The next moment Asgeelo +went down. + +"What now?" was the thought of the brothers. Had he been dragged down? +Impossible! And yet it seemed equally impossible that he could have gone +down of his own accord. + +In a moment their suspense was ended. A white flash appeared near the +surface. The next instant a dark, sinewy arm emerged from beneath, armed +with a long, keen knife, which seemed to tear down with one tremendous +stroke that white, shining surface. + +It was Asgeelo's head that emerged in a sea of blood and foam. Triumph +was in his dark face, as with one hand he waved his knife exultantly. + +A few moments afterward the form of a gigantic shark floated upward to +the surface, dyeing the sea with the blood which had issued from the +stroke dealt by Asgeelo. Not yet, however, was the vindictive fury of +the Hindu satiated. He swam up to it. He dashed his knife over and over +the white belly till it became a hideous mass of gaping entrails. Then +he came into the boat. + +He sat down, a hideous figure. Blood covered his tawny face, and the +fury of his rage had not left the features. + +The strength which this man had shown was tremendous, yet his quickness +and agility even in the water had been commensurate with his strength. +Brandon had once seen proofs of his courage in the dead bodies of +the Malay pirates which lay around him in the cabin of that ill-fated +Chinese ship: but all that he had done then was not to be compared to +this. + +They could not help asking him why he had not at once made his escape to +the boar, instead of staying to fight the monster. + +Asgeelo's look was as gloomy as death as he replied, + +"They tore in pieces my son, Sahib--my only son--when he first went +down, and I have to avenge him. I killed a hundred on the Malabar coast +before I left it forever. That shark did not attack me; I attacked him." + +"If you saw one now would you attack him?" + +"Yes, Sahib." + +Brandon expressed some apprehension, and wished him not to risk his +life. + +But Asgeelo explained that a shark could be successfully encountered by +a skillful swimmer. The shark is long, and has to move about in a circle +which is comparatively large; he is also a coward, and a good swimmer +can strike him if he only chooses. He again repeated triumphantly that +he had killed more than a hundred to avenge his son. + +In his last venture Asgeelo had been no more successful than before. +Needle Island was now to the southwest, and Brandon thought that their +only chance was to try farther over toward the west, where they had not +yet explored. + +They rowed at once back to the point from which they had set out, and +then went on about a hundred and fifty yards to the west. From this +place, as they looked toward the islet, the three rocks seemed so close +together that they appeared blended, and the three sharp, needlelike +points appeared to issue from one common base. This circumstance had +an encouraging effect, for it seemed to the brothers as though their +ancestor might have looked upon those rocks from this point of view +rather than from any other which had as yet come upon the field of their +observation. + +This time Brandon himself resolved to go down; partly because he thought +that Asgeelo had worked long enough, and ought not to be exhausted on +that first day, and partly on account of an intolerable impatience, and +an eagerness to see for himself rather than intrust it to others. + +There was the horror of the shark, which might have deterred any other +man. It was a danger which he had never taken into account. But the +resolve of his soul was stronger than any fear, and he determined to +face even this danger. If he lost his life, he was indifferent. Let +it go! Life was not so precious to him as to some others. Fearless by +nature, he was ordinarily ready to run risks; but now the thing that +drew him onward was so vast in its importance that he was willing to +encounter peril of any kind. + +Frank was aware of the full extent of this new danger, but he said +nothing, nor did he attempt in any way to dissuade his brother. He +himself, had he been able, would have gone down in his place; but as he +was not able, he did not suppose that his brother would hesitate. + +The apparatus was in the boat. The pumping-machine was in the stern; +and this, with the various signal-ropes, was managed by Frank. Asgeelo +rowed. These arrangements had long since been made, and they had +practiced in this way on the Hudson River. + +Silently Brandon put on his diving armor. The ropes and tubes were all +carefully arranged. The usual weight was attached to his belt, and he +was slowly lowered down to the bottom of the sea. + +The bottom of the ocean was composed of a smooth, even surface of fine +sand and gravel, along which Brandon moved without difficulty. The +cumbrous armor of the diver, which on land is so heavy, beneath the +water loses its excessive weight, and by steadying the wearer assists +him to walk. The water was marvelously transparent, as is usually the +case in the southern seas, and through the glass plate in his helmet +Brandon could look forward to a greater distance than was possible in +the Hudson. + +Overhead he could see the bottom of the boat, as it floated and moved on +in the direction which he wished: signals, which were communicated by +a rope which he held in his hand, told them whether to go forward or +backward, to the right or to the left, or to stop altogether. Practice +had enabled him to command, and them to obey, with ease. + +Down in the depths to which he had descended the water was always still, +and the storms that affected the surface never penetrated there. Brandon +learned this from the delicate shells and the still more delicate forms +of marine plants which lay at his feet, so fragile in their structure, +and so delicately poised in their position, that they must have formed +themselves in deep, dead stillness and absolute motionlessness of +waters. The very movement which was caused by his passage displaced them +in all directions, and cast them down every where in ruins. Here, in +such depths as these, if the sounding lead is cast it brings up these +fragile shells, and shows to the observer what profound calm must exist +here, far away beneath the ordinary vision of man. + +Practice had enabled Brandon to move with much ease. His breathing +was without difficulty. The first troubles arising from breathing this +confined air had long since been surmounted. One tube ran down from the +boat, through which the fresh air was pushed, and another tube ran up +a little distance, through which the air passed and left it in myriad +bubbles that ascended to the surface. + +He walked on, and soon came to a place where things changed their +appearance. Hard sand was here, and on every side there arose +curiously-shaped coral structures, which resembled more than any thing +else a leafless forest. These coral tree-like forms twisted their +branches in strange involutions, and in some places formed a perfect +barrier of interlaced arms, so that he was forced to make a detour in +order to avoid them. The chief fear here was that his tube might get +entangled among some of the loftier straggling branches, and impede or +retard his progress. To avoid this caused much delay. + +Now, among the coral rocks, the vegetation of the lower sea began to +appear of more vivid colors and of far greater variety than any which he +had ever seen. Here were long plants which clung to the coral like ivy, +seeming to be a species of marine parasite, and as it grew it throve +more luxuriantly. Here were some which threw out long arms, terminating +in vast, broad, palm-like leaves, the arms intertwined among the coral +branches and the leaves hanging downward. Here were long streamers of +fine, silk-like strings, that were suspended from many a projecting +branch, and hillocks of spongy substance that looked like moss. +Here, too, were plants which threw forth long, ribbon-like leaves of +variegated color. + +It was a forest under the sea, and it grew denser at every step. + +At last his progress in this direction was terminated by a rock which +came from a southerly direction, like a spur from the islands. It arose +to a height of about thirty feet overhead, and descended gradually as it +ran north. Brandon turned aside, and walked by its base along its entire +extent. + +At its termination there arose a long vista, where the ground ascended +and an opening appeared through this marine "forest." On each side the +involuted corals flung their twisted arms in more curious and intricate +folds. The vegetation was denser, more luxuriant, and more varied. +Beneath him was a growth of tender substance, hairy in texture, and of +a delicate green color, which looked more like lawn grass of the upper +world than any thing else in nature. + +Brandon walked on, and even in the intense desire of his soul to find +what he sought he felt himself overcome by the sublime influence of +this submarine world. He seemed to have intruded into some other sphere, +planting his rash footsteps where no foot of man had trodden before, and +using the resources of science to violate the hallowed secrecy of awful +nature in her most hidden retreats. Here, above all things, his soul was +oppressed by the universal silence around. Through that thick helmet, +indeed, no sound under a clap of thunder could be heard, and the ringing +of his ears would of itself have prevented consciousness of any other +noise, yet none the less was he aware of the awful stillness; it was +silence that could be felt. In the sublimity of that lonely pathway +he felt what Hercules is imagined to have felt when passing to the +underworld after Cerberus, + + Stupent ubi undae segne torpescit fretum, + +and half expected to hear some voice from the dweller in this place: + + "Quo pergis audax? Siste proserentem gradum." + +There came to him only such dwellers as belonged to the place. He +saw them as he moved along. He saw them darting out from the hidden +penetralia around, moving swiftly across and sometimes darting in shoals +before him. They began to appear in such vast numbers that Brandon +thought of the monster which lay a mangled heap upon the surface above, +and fancied that perhaps his kindred were waiting to avenge his death. +As this fear came full and well defined before him he drew from his belt +the knife which Asgeelo had given him, and Frank had urged him to take, +feeling himself less helpless if he held this in his hand. + +The fishes moved about him, coming on in new and more startled crowds, +some dashing past, others darting upward, and others moving swiftly +ahead. One large one was there with a train of followers, which moved +up and floated for a moment directly in front of him, its large, staring +eyes seeming to view him in wonder, and solemnly working its gills. But +as Brandon came close it gave a sudden turn and darted off with all its +attendants. + +At last, amidst all these wonders, he saw far ahead something which +drove all other thoughts away, whether of fear, or of danger, or of +horror, and filled all his soul with an overmastering passion of desire +and hope. + +It was a dark object, too remote as yet to be distinctly visible, yet as +it rose there his fancy seemed to trace the outline of a ship, or what +might once have been a ship. The presentation of his hope before him +thus in what seemed like a reality was too much. He stood still, and his +heart beat with fierce throbs. + +The hope was so precious that for a time he hesitated to advance, for +fear lest the hope might be dispelled forever. And then to fail at this +place, after so long a search, when he seemed to have reached the end, +would be an intolerable grief. + +There, too, was that strange pathway which seemed made on purpose. How +came it there? He thought that perhaps the object lying before him might +have caused some current which set in there and prevented the growth of +plants in that place. These and many other thoughts came to him as he +stood, unwilling to move. + +But at last he conquered his feelings, and advanced. Hope grew strong +within him. He thought of the time on Coffin Island when, in like +manner, he had hesitated before a like object. + +Might not this, like that, turn out to be a ship? And now, by a strange +revulsion, all his feelings urged him on; hope was strong, suspense +unendurable. Whatever that object was, he must know. + +It might indeed be a rock. He had passed one shortly before, which +had gradually declined into the bottom of the sea; this might be a +continuation of the same, which after an interval had arisen again from +the bottom. It was long and high at one end, and rounded forward at the +other. Such a shape was perfectly natural for a rock. He tried to crush +down hope, so as to be prepared for disappointment. He tried to convince +himself that it must be a rock, and could by no possibility be any +thing else. Yet his efforts were totally fruitless. Still the conviction +remained that it was a ship, and if so, it could be no other than the +one he sought. + +As he went on all the marine vegetation ceased. The coral rocks +continued no further. Now all around the bottom of the sea was flat, and +covered with fine gravel, like that which he had touched when he first +came down. The fishes had departed. The sense of solemnity left him; +only one thing was perceptible, and that was the object toward which he +walked. And now he felt within him such an uncontrollable impulse that +even if he had wished he could neither have paused nor gone back. To +go forward was only possible. It seemed to him as though some external +influence had penetrated his body, and forced him to move. Again, +as once before, he recalled the last words of his father, so well +remembered: --"If in that other world to which I am going the +disembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, oh my son, I will +assist you, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only +to communicate to your spirit what you ought to do--" + +It was Ralph Brandon who had said this. Here in this object which +lay before him, if it were indeed the ship, he imagined the spirit of +another Ralph Brandon present, awaiting him. + +Suddenly a dark shadow passed over his head, which forced him +involuntarily to look up. In spite of his excitement a shudder passed +through him. Far overhead, at the surface of the sea the boat was +floating. But half-way up were three dark objects moving slowly and +lazily along. They were sharks. + +To him, in his loneliness and weakness, nothing ever seemed so menacing +as these three demons of the deep as he stared up at them. Had they seen +him? that was now his thought. He clutched his knife in a firmer hold, +feeling all the while how utterly helpless he was, and shrinking away +into himself from the terror above. The monsters moved leisurely +about, at one time grazing the tube, and sending down a vibration which +thrilled like an electric shock through him. For a moment he thought +that they were malignantly tormenting him, and had done this on purpose +in order to send down to him a message of his fate. + +He waited. + +The time seemed endless. Yet at last the end came. The sharks could +not have seen him, for they gradually moved away until they were out of +sight. + +Brandon did not dare to advance for some time. Yet now, since the spell +of this presence was removed, his horror left him, and his former hope +animated all his soul. + +There lay that object before him. Could he advance again after that +warning? Dared he? This new realm into which he had ventured had +indeed those who were ready and able to inflict a sudden and frightful +vengeance upon the rash intruder. He had passed safely among the horrors +of the coral forest; but here, on this plateau, could he hope to be so +safe? Might not the slightest movement on his part create a disturbance +of water sufficient to awaken the attention of those departed enemies +and bring them back? + +This was his fear. But hope, and a resolute will, and a determination +to risk all on this last hazard, alike impelled him on. Danger now lay +every where, above as well as below. An advance was not more perilous +than an ascent to the boat. Taking comfort from this last thought he +moved onward with a steady, determined step. + +Hope grew stronger as he drew nearer. The dark mass gradually formed +itself into a more distinct outline. The uncertain lines defined into +more certain shape, and the resemblance to a ship became greater and +greater. He could no longer resist the conviction that this must be a +ship. + +Still he tried feebly to prepare for disappointment, and made faint +fancies as to the reason why a rock should be formed here in this shape. +All the time he scouted those fancies and felt assured that it was not a +rock. + +Nearer and nearer. Doubt no longer remained. He stood close beside it. +It was indeed a ship! Its sides rose high over head. Its lofty stern +stood up like a tower, after the fashion of a ship of the days of Queen +Elizabeth. The masts had fallen and lay, encumbered with the rigging, +over the side. + +Brandon walked all around it, his heart beating fast, seeing at every +step some new proof that this must be no other, by any conceivable +possibility, than the one which he sought. On reaching the bows he saw +the outline of a bird carved for the figure-head, and knew that this +must be the _Phoenix_. + +He walked around. The bottom was sandy and the ship had settled down +to some depth. Her sides were covered with fine dark shells, like an +incrustation, to a depth of an inch, mingled with a short growth of a +green, slimy sea-weed. + +At last he could delay no longer. One of the masts lay over the side, +and this afforded an easy way by which he could clamber upward upon the +deck. + +In a few moments Brandon stood upon the deck of the _Phoenix_. + +The ship which had thus lain here through centuries, saturated with +water that had penetrated to its inmost fibre, still held together +sturdily. Beneath the sea the water itself had acted as a preservative, +and retarded or prevented decay. Brandon looked around as he stood +there, and the light that came from above, where the surface of the sea +was now much nearer than before, showed him all the extent of the ship. + +The beams which supported the deck had lost their stiffness and sunk +downward; the masts, as before stated, had toppled over for the same +reason, yielding to their own weight, which, as the vessel was slightly +on one side, had gradually borne them down; the bowsprit also had +fallen. The hatchways had yielded, and, giving way, had sunk down within +the hold. The doors which led into the cabin in the lofty poop were +lying prostrate on the deck. The large sky-light which once had stood +there had also followed the same fate. + +[Illustration: "THE MASTS HAD FALLEN AND LAY, ENCUMBERED WITH THE +RIGGING, OVER THE SIDE."] + +Before going down Brandon had arranged a signal to send to Frank in case +he found the ship. In his excitement he had not yet given it. Before +venturing further he thought of this. But he decided not to make the +signal. The idea came, and was rejected amidst a world of varying hopes +and fears. He thought that if he was successful he himself would be the +best messenger of success; and, if not, he would be the best messenger +of evil. + +He advanced toward the cabin. Turning away from the door he clambered +upon the poop, and, looking down, tried to see what depth there might +be beneath. He saw something which looked as though it had once been a +table. Slowly and cautiously he let himself down through the opening, +and his feet touched bottom. He moved downward, and let his feet slide +till they touched the floor. + +He was within the cabin. + +The light here was almost equal to that with-out, for the sky-light was +very wide. The floor was sunken in like the deck of the ship. He looked +around to see where he might first search for the treasure. Suddenly his +eye caught sight of something which drove away every other thought. + +At one end was a seat, and there, propped up against the wall, was +a skeleton in a sitting posture. Around it was a belt with a sword +attached. The figure had partly twisted itself round, but its bead and +shoulders were so propped up against the wall that it could not fall. + +Brandon advanced, filled with a thousand emotions. One hand was lying +down in front. He lifted it. There was a gold ring on the bony finger. +He took it off. In the dim light he saw, cut in bold relief on this +seal-ring, the crest of his family--a Phoenix. + +It was his ancestor himself who was before him. + +Here he had calmly taken his seat when the ship was settling slowly down +into the embrace of the waters. Here he had taken his seat, calmly and +sternly, awaiting his death--perhaps with a feeling of grim triumph that +he could thus elude his foes. This was the man, and this the hand, which +had written the message that had drawn the descendant here. + +Such were the thoughts that passed through Brandon's mind. He put the +ring on his own finger and turned away. His ancestor had summoned him +hither, and here he was. Where was the treasure that was promised? + +Brandon's impatience now rose to a fever. Only one thought filled his +mind. All around the cabin were little rooms, into each of which he +looked. The doors had all fallen away. Yet he saw nothing in any of +them. + +He stood for a moment in deep doubt. Where could he look? Could he +venture down into the dark hold and explore? How could he hope to find +any thing there, amidst the ruins of that interior where guns and chains +lay, perhaps all mingled together where they had fallen? It would need +a longer time to find it than he had at first supposed. Yet would he +falter? No! Rather than give up he would pass years here, till he had +dismembered the whole ship and strewn every particle of her piecemeal +over the bottom of the sea. Yet he had hoped to solve the whole mystery +at the first visit; and now, since he saw no sign of any thing like +treasure, he was for a while at a loss what to do. + +His ancestor had summoned him, and he had come. Where was the treasure? +Where? Why could not that figure arise and show him? + +Such were his thoughts. Yet these thoughts, the result of excitement +that was now a frenzy, soon gave rise to others that were calmer. + +He reflected that perhaps some other feeling than what he had at first +imagined might have inspired that grim old Englishman when he took his +seat there and chose to drown on that seat rather than move away. Some +other feeling, and what feeling? Some feeling which must have been the +strongest in his heart. What was that? The one which had inspired the +message, the desire to secure still more that treasure for which he had +toiled and fought. His last act was to send the message, why should he +not have still borne that thought in his mind and carried it till he +died? + +The skeleton was at one end, supported by the wall. Two posts projected +on each side. A heavy oaken chair stood there, which had once perhaps +been fastened to the floor. Brandon thought that he would first examine +that wall. Perhaps there might be some opening there. + +He took the skeleton in his arms reverently, and proceeded to lift it +from the chair: He could not. He looked more narrowly, and saw a chain +which had been fastened around it and bound it to the chair. + +What was the meaning of this? Had the crew mutinied, bound the captain, +and run? Had the Spaniards seized the ship after all? Had they recovered +the spoil, and punished in this way the plunderer of three galleons, by +binding him here to the chair, scuttling the ship, and sending him down +to the bottom of the sea? + +The idea of the possibility of this made Brandon sick with anxiety. +He pulled the chair away, put it on one side, and began to examine the +wooden wall by running his hand along it. There was nothing whatever +perceptible. The wall was on the side farthest from the stern, and +almost amidships. He pounded it, and, by the feeling, knew that it was +hollow behind. He walked to the door which was on one side, and passed +in behind this very wall. There was nothing there. It had once perhaps +been used as part of the cabin. He came back disconsolately, and stood +on the very place where the chair had been. + +"Let me be calm," he said to himself. "This enterprise is hopeless. Yes, +the Spaniards captured the ship, recovered the treasure, and drowned my +ancestor. Let me not be deceived. Let me cast away hope, and search here +without any idle expectation." + +Suddenly as he thought he felt the floor gradually giving way beneath +him. He started, but before he could move or even think in what +direction to go the floor sank in, and he at once sank with it downward. + +Had it not been that the tube was of ample extent, and had been +carefully managed so as to guard against any abrupt descent among rocks +at the bottom of the sea, this sudden fall might have ended Brandon's +career forever. As it was he only sank quickly, but without accident, +until his breast was on a level with the cabin floor. + +In a moment the truth flashed upon him. He had been standing on a +trap-door which opened from the cabin floor into the hold of the ship. +Over this trap-door old Ralph Brandon had seated and bound himself. Was +it to guard the treasure? Was it that he might await his descendant, and +thus silently indicate to him the place where he must look? + +And now the fever of Brandon's conflicting hope and fear grew more +intense than it had ever yet been through all this day of days. He +stooped down to feel what it was that lay under his feet. His hands +grasped something, the very touch of which sent a thrill sharp and +sudden through every fibre of his being. + +_They were metallic bars!_ + +He rose up again overcome. He hardly dared to take one up so as to see +what it might be. For the actual sight would realize hope or destroy it +forever. + +Once more he stooped down. In a sort of fury he grasped a bar in each +hand and raised it up to the light. + +Down under the sea the action of water had not destroyed the color +of those bars which he held up in the dim light that came through the +waters. The dull yellow of those rough ingots seemed to gleam with +dazzling brightness before his bewildered eyes, and filled his whole +soul with a torrent of rapture and of triumph. + +His emotions overcame him. The bars of gold fell down from his trembling +hands. He sank back and leaned against the wall. + +But what was it that lay under his feet? What were all these bars? Were +they all gold? Was this indeed all here--the plunder of the Spanish +treasure-ships--the wealth which might purchase a kingdom--the treasure +equal to an empire's revenue--the gold and jewels in countless store? + +A few moments of respite were needed in order to overcome the tremendous +conflict of feeling which raged within his breast. Then once more he +stooped down. His outstretched hand felt over all this space which thus +was piled up with treasure. + +It was about four feet square. The ingots lay in the centre. Around the +sides were boxes. One of these he took out. It was made of thick oaken +plank, and was about ten inches long and eight wide. The rusty nails +gave but little resistance, and the iron bands which once bound them +peeled off at a touch. He opened the box. + +Inside was a casket. + +He tore open the casket. + +_It was filled with jewels!_ + +His work was ended. No more search, no more fear. He bound the casket +tightly to the end of the signal-line, added to it a bar of gold, and +clambered to the deck. + +He cast off the weight that was at his waist, which he also fastened to +the line, and let it go. + +Freed from the weight he rose buoyantly to the top of the water. + +The boat pulled rapidly toward him and took him in. As he removed his +helmet he saw Frank's eyes fixed on his in mute inquiry. His face was +ashen, his lips bloodless. + +Louis smiled. + +"Heavens!" cried Frank, "can it be?" + +"Pull up the signal-line and see for yourself," was the answer. + +And, as Frank pulled, Louis uttered a cry which made him look up. + +Louis pointed to the sun. "Good God! what a time I must have been down!" + +"Time!" said Frank. "Don't say time--it was eternity!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +BEATRICE'S JOURNAL + +BRANDON HALL + +September 1, 1848.--Paolo Langhetti used to say that it was useful +to keep a diary; not one from day to day, for each day's events are +generally trivial, and therefore not worthy of record; but rather a +statement in full of more important events in one's life, which may be +turned to in later years. I wish I had begun this sixteen months ago, +when I first came here. How full would have been my melancholy record by +this time! + +Where shall I begin? + +Of course, with my arrival here, for that is the time when we separated. +There is no need for me to put down in writing the events that took +place when _he_ was with me. Not a word that he ever spoke, not a look +that he ever gave, has escaped my memory. This much I may set down here. + +Alas! the shadow of the African forest fell deeply and darkly upon me. +Am I stronger than other women, or weaker? I know not. Yet I can be calm +while my heart is breaking. Yes, I am at once stronger and weaker; so +weak that my heart breaks, so strong that I can hide it. + +I will begin from the time of my arrival here. + +I came knowing well who the man was and what he was whom I had for my +father. I came with every word of that despairing voyager ringing in my +ears--that cry from the drifting _Vishnu_, where Despard laid down to +die. How is it that his very name thrills through me? I am nothing +to him. I am one of the hateful brood of murderers. A Thug was my +father--and my mother who? And who am I, and what? + +At least my soul is not his, though I am his daughter. My soul is +myself, and life on earth can not last forever. Hereafter I may stand +where that man may never approach. + +How can I ever forget the first sight which I had of my father, who +before I saw him had become to me as abhorrent as a demon! I came up in +the coach to the door of the Hall and looked out. On the broad piazza +there were two men; one was sitting, the other standing. + +The one who was standing was somewhat elderly, with a broad, fat face, +which expressed nothing in particular but vulgar good-nature. He was +dressed in black; and looked like a serious butler, or perhaps still +more like some of the Dissenting ministers whom I have seen. He stood +with his hands in his pockets, looking at me with a vacant smile. + +The other man was younger, not over thirty. He was thin, and looked pale +from dissipation. His face was covered with spots, his eyes were gray, +his eyelashes white. He was smoking a very large pipe, and a tumbler of +some kind of drink stood on the stone pavement at his feet. He stared at +me between the puffs of his pipe, and neither moved nor spoke. + +If I had not already tasted the bitterness of despair I should have +tasted it as I saw these men. Something told me that they were my father +and brother. My very soul sickened at the sight--the memory of Despard's +words came back--and if it had been possible to have felt any tender +natural affection for them, this recollection would have destroyed it. + +"I wish to see Mr. Potts," said I, coldly. + +My father stared at me. + +"I'm Mr. Potts," he answered. + +"I am Beatrice," said I; "I have just arrived from China." + +By this time the driver had opened the door, and I got out and walked up +on the piazza. + +"Johnnie," exclaimed my father, "what the devil is the meaning of this?" + +"Gad, I don't know," returned John, with a puff of smoke. + +"Didn't you say she was drowned off the African coast?" + +"I saw so in the newspapers." + +"Didn't you tell me about the _Falcon_ rescuing her from the pirates, +and then getting wrecked with all on board?" + +"Yes, but then there was a girl that escaped." + +"Oh ho!" said my father, with a long whistle. "I didn't know that." + +He turned and looked at me hastily, but in deep perplexity. + +"So you're the girl, are you?" said he at last. + +"I am your daughter," I answered. + +I saw him look at John, who winked in return. + +He walked up and down for a few minutes, and at last stopped and looked +at me again. + +"That's all very well," said he at last, "but how do I know that you're +the party? Have you any proof of this?" + +"No." + +"You have nothing but your own statement?" + +"No." + +"And you may be an impostor. Mind you--I'm a magistrate--and you'd +better be careful." + +"You can do what you choose," said I, coldly. + +"No, I can't. In this country a man can't do what he chooses." + +I was silent. + +"Johnnie," said my father, "I'll have to leave her to you. You arrange +it." + +John looked at me lazily, still smoking, and for some time said nothing. + +"I suppose," said he at last, "you've got to put it through. You began +it, you know. You would send for her. I never saw the use of it." + +"But do you think this is the party?" + +"Oh, I dare say. It don't make any difference any way. Nobody would take +the trouble to come to you with a sham story." + +"That's a fact," said my father. + +"So I don't see but you've got to take her." + +"Well," said my father, "if you think so, why all right." + +"I don't think any thing of the kind," returned John, snappishly. "I +only think that she's the party you sent for." + +"Oh, well, it's all the same," said my father, who then turned to me +again. + +"If you're the girl," he said, "you can get in. Hunt up Mrs. Compton, +and she'll take charge of you." + +Compton! At the mention of that name a shudder passed through me. She +had been in the family of the murdered man, and had ever since lived +with his murderer. I went in without a word, prepared for the worst, +and expecting to see some evil-faced woman, fit companion for the pair +outside. + +A servant was passing along. "Where is Mrs. Compton?" I asked. + +"Somewhere or other, I suppose," growled the man, and went on. + +I stood quietly. Had I not been prepared for some such thing as this I +might perhaps have broken down under grief, but I had read the MS., and +nothing could surprise or wound me. + +I waited there for nearly half an hour, during which time no notice was +taken of me. I heard my father and John walk down the piazza steps and +go away. They had evidently forgotten all about me. At last a man came +toward the door who did not look like a servant. He was dressed in +black. He was a slender, pale, shambling man with thin, light hair, +and a furtive eye and a weary face. He did not look like one who would +insult me, so I asked him where I could find Mrs. Compton. + +He started as I spoke and looked at me in wonder, yet respectfully. + +"I have just come from China," said I, "and my father told me to find +Mrs. Compton." + +He looked at me for some time without speaking a word. I began to think +that he was imbecile. + +"So you are Mr. Potts's daughter," said he at last, in a thin, weak +voice. "I--I didn't know that you had come--I--I knew that he was +expecting you--but heard you were lost at sea--Mrs. Compton--yes--oh +yes--I'll show you where you can find Mrs. Compton." + +He was embarrassed, yet not unkind. There was wonder in his face, as +though he was surprised at my appearance. Perhaps it was because he +found me so unlike my father. He walked toward the great stairs, from +time to time turning his head to look at me, and ascended them. I +followed, and after going to the third story we came to a room. + +"That's the place," said he. + +He then turned, without replying to my thanks, and left me. I knocked +at the door. After some delay it was opened, and I went in. A thin, pale +woman was there. Her hair was perfectly white. Her face was marked by +the traces of great grief and suffering, yet overspread by an expression +of surpassing gentleness and sweetness. She looked like one of these +women who live lives of devotion for others, who suffer out of the +spirit of self-sacrifice, and count their own comfort and happiness as +nothing in comparison with that of those whom they love. My heart warmed +toward her at the first glance; I saw that this place could not be +altogether corrupt since she was here. + +"I am Mr. Potts's daughter," said I; "are you Mrs. Compton?" + +She stood mute. An expression of deadly fear overspread her countenance, +which seemed to turn her white face to a grayish hue, and the look that +she gave me was such a look as one may cast upon some object of mortal +fear. + +"You look alarmed," said I, in surprise; "and why? Am I then so +frightful?" + +She seized my hand and covered it with kisses. This new outburst +surprised me as much as her former fear. I did not know what to do. "Ah! +my sweet child, my dearest!" she murmured. "How did you come here, here +of all places on earth?" + +I was touched by the tenderness and sympathy of her tone. It was full of +the gentlest love. "How did you come here?" I asked. + +She started and turned on me her former look of fear. + +"Do not look at me so," said I, "dear Mrs. Compton. You are timid. Do +not be afraid of me. I am incapable of inspiring fear." I pressed her +hand. "Let us say nothing more now about the place. We each seem to +know what it is. Since I find one like you living here it will not seem +altogether a place of despair." + +"Oh, door child, what words are these? You speak as if you knew all." + +"I know much," said I, "and I have suffered much." + +"Ah, my dearest! you are too young and too beautiful to suffer." An +agony of sorrow came over her face. Then I saw upon it an expression +which I have often marked since, a strange straggling desire to say +something, which that excessive and ever-present terror of hers made her +incapable of uttering. Some secret thought was in her whole face, but +her faltering tongue was paralyzed and could not divulge it. + +She turned away with a deep sigh. I looked at her with much interest. +She was not the woman I expected to find. Her face and voice won my +heart. She was certainly one to be trusted. But still there was this +mystery about her. + +Nothing could exceed her kindness and tenderness. She arranged my room. +She did every thing that could be done to give it an air of comfort. It +was a very luxuriously furnished chamber. All the house was lordly in +its style and arrangements. That first night I slept the sleep of the +weary. + +The next day I spent in my room, occupied with my own sad thoughts. At +about three in the afternoon I saw _him_ come up the avenue My heart +throbbed violently. My eyes were riveted upon that well-known face, how +loved! how dear! In vain I tried to conjecture the reason why he should +come. Was it to strike the first blow in his just, his implacable +vengeance? I longed that I might receive that blow. Any thing that came +from _him_ would be sweet. + +He staid a long time and then left. What passed I can not conjecture. +But it had evidently been an agreeable visit to my father, for I heard +him laughing uproariously on the piazza about something not long after +he had gone. + +I have not seen him since. + +For several weeks I scarcely moved from my room. I ate with Mrs. +Compton. Her reserve was impenetrable. It was with painful fear and +trembling that she touched upon any thing connected with the affairs of +the house or the family. I saw it and spared her. Poor thing, she has +always been too timid for such a life as this. + +At the end of a month I began to think that I could live here in a state +of obscurity without being molested. Strange that a daughter's feelings +toward a father and brother should be those of horror, and that her +desire with reference to them should be merely to keep out of their +sight. I had no occupation, and needed none, for I had my thoughts and +my memories. These memories were bitter, yet sweet. I took the sweet, +and tried to solace myself with them. The days are gone forever; no +longer does the sea spread wide; no longer can I hear his voice; I can +hold him in my arms no more; yet I can remember-- + + "Das suesseste Glueck fuer die trauernde Brust, + Nach der schonen Liebe verschwundener Lust, + Sind der Liebe Schmerzen und Klagen." + +I think I had lived this sort of life for three months without seeing +either my father or brother. + +At the end of that time my father sent for me. He informed me that +he intended to give a grand entertainment to the county families, and +wanted me to do the honors. He had ordered dress-makers for me; he +wished me to wear some jewels which he had in the house, and informed +me that it would be the grandest thing of the kind that had ever taken +place. Fire-works were going to be let off; the grounds were to be +illuminated, and nothing that money could effect would be spared to +render it the most splendid festival that could be imagined. + +I did as he said. The dress-makers came, and I allowed them to array +me as they chose. My father informed me that he would not give me the +jewels till the time came, hinting a fear that I might steal them. + +At last the evening arrived. Invitations had been sent every where. It +was expected that the house would be crowded. My father even ventured to +make a personal request that I would adorn myself as well as possible. +I did the best I could, and went to the drawing-room to receive the +expected crowds. + +The hour came and passed, but no one appeared. My father looked a little +troubled, but he and John waited in the drawing-room. Servants were sent +down to see if any one was approaching. An hour passed. My father looked +deeply enraged. Two hours passed. Still no one came. Three hours passed. +I waited calmly, but my father and John, who had all the time been +drinking freely, became furious. It was now midnight, and all hope had +left them. They had been treated with scorn by the whole county. + +The servants were laughing at my father's disgrace. The proud array in +the different rooms was all a mockery. The elaborate fire-works could +not be used. + +My father turned his eyes, inflamed by anger and strong drink, toward +me. + +"She's a d----d bad investment," I heard him say. + +"I told you so," said John, who did not deign to look at me; "but you +were determined." + +They then sat drinking in silence for some time. + +"Sold!" said my father, suddenly, with an oath. + +John made no reply. + +"I thought the county would take to her. She's one of their own sort," +my father muttered. + +"If it weren't for you they might," said John; "but they ain't overfond +of her dear father." + +"But I sent out the _invites_ in her name." + +"No go anyhow." + +"I thought I'd get in with them all right away, hobnob with lords and +baronets, and maybe get knighted on the spot." + +John gave a long scream of laughter. + +"You old fool!" he cried; "so that's what you're up to, is it? Sir +John--ha, ha, ha! You'll never be made Sir John by parties, I'm afraid." + +"Oh, don't you be too sure. I'm not put down. I'll try again," he +continued, after a pause. "Next year I'll do it. Why, she'll marry a +lord, and then won't I be a lord's father-in-law? What do you say to +that?" + +"When did you get these notions in your blessed head?" asked John. + +"Oh, I've had them--It's not so much for myself, Johnnie--but for you. +For if I'm a lord you'll be a lord too." + +"Lord Potts. Ha, ha, ha!" + +"No," said my father, with some appearance of vexation, "not that; we'll +take our title the way all the lords do, from the estates. I'll be Lord +Brandon, and when I die you'll get the title." + +"And that's your little game. Well, you've played such good little games +in your life that I've nothing to say, except--'Go it!'" + +"She's the one that'll give me a lift." + +"Well, she ought to be able to do something." + +By this time I concluded that I had done my duty and prepared to retire. +I did not wish to overhear any of their conversation. As I walked out of +the room I still heard their remarks: + +"Blest if she don't look as if she thought herself the Queen," said +John. + +"It's the diamonds, Johnnie." + +"No it ain't, it's the girl herself. I don't like the way she has of +looking at me and through me." + +"Why, that's the way with that kind. It's what the lords like." + +"I don't like it, then, and I tell you _she's got to be took down!_" + +This was the last I heard. Yet one thing was evident to me from their +conversation. My father had some wild plan of effecting an entrance +into society through me. He thought that after he was once recognized +he might get sufficient influence to gain a title and found a family. I +also might marry a lord. He thus dreamed of being Lord Brandon, and one +of the great nobles of the land. + +Amidst my sadness I almost smiled at this vain dream; but yet John's +words affected me strongly--"You've played such good little games +in your life." Well I knew with whom they were played. One was with +Despard, the other with Brandon. + +This then was the reason why he had sent for me from China. The +knowledge of his purpose made my life neither brighter nor darker. I +still lived on as before. + +During these months Mrs. Compton's tender devotion to me never ceased. I +respected her, and forbore to excite that painful fear to which she was +subject. Once or twice I forgot myself and began speaking to her about +her strange position here. She stopped me with her look of alarm. + +"Are you not afraid to be kind to me?" I asked. + +She looked at me piteously. + +"You are the only one that is kind to me," I continued. "How have you +the courage?" + +"I can not help it," she murmured, "you are so dear to me." + +She sighed and was silent. The mystery about her remained unchanged; +her gentle nature, her tender love, and her ever-present fear. What was +there in her past that so influenced her life? Had she too been mixed up +with the crime on the _Vishnu_? She! impossible. Yet surely something as +dark as that must have been required to throw so black a cloud over +her life. Yet what--what could that have been? In spite of myself I +associate her secret with the tragedy of Despard. She was in his family +long. His wife died. She must have been with her at the time. + +The possibilities that have suggested themselves to my mind will one +day drive me mad. Alas, how my heart yearns over that lonely man in the +drifting ship! And yet, merciful God! who am I that I should sympathize +with him? My name is infamy, my blood is pollution. + +I spoke to her once in a general way about the past. Had she ever been +out of England? I asked. + +"Yes," she answered, dreamily. + +"Where?" + +She looked at me and said not a word. + +At another time I spoke of China, and hinted that perhaps she too knew +something about the East. The moment that I said this I repented. The +poor creature was shaken from head to foot with a sudden convulsion of +fear. This convulsion was so terrible that it seemed to me as though +another would be death. I tried to soothe her, but she looked fearfully +at me for a long time after. + +At another time I asked her directly whether her husband was alive. She +looked at me with deep sadness and shook her head. I do not know what +position she holds here. She is not housekeeper; none of the servants +pay any attention to her whatever. There is an impudent head servant who +manages the rest. I noticed that the man who showed me to her room when +I first came treats her differently from the rest. Once or twice I saw +them talking in one of the halls. There was deep respect in his manner. +What he does I have not yet found out. He has always shown great respect +to me, though why I can not imagine. He has the same timidity of manner +which marks Mrs. Compton. His name is Philips. + +I once asked Mrs. Compton who Philips was, and what he did. She answered +quickly that he was a kind of clerk to Mr. Potts, and helped him to keep +his accounts. + +"Has he been with him long?" I continued. + +"Yes, a considerable time," she said--but I saw that the subject +distressed her, so I changed it. + +For more than three months I remained in my room, but at last, through +utter despair, I longed to go out. The noble grounds were there, high +hills from which the wide sea was visible--that sea which shall be +associated with his memory till I die. A great longing came over me to +look upon its wide expanse, and feed my soul with old and dear memories. +There it would lie, the same sea from which he so often saved me, over +which we sailed till he laid down his noble life at my feet, and I gave +back that life to him again. + +I used to ascend a hill which was half a mile behind the Hall within the +grounds, and pass whole days there unmolested. No one took the trouble +to notice what I did, at least I thought so till afterward. There for +months I used to go. I would sit and look fixedly upon the blue water, +and my imagination would carry me far away to the South, to that island +on the African shore, where he once reclined in my arms, before the day +when I learned that my touch was pollution to him--to that island where +I afterward knelt by him as he lay senseless, slowly coming back to +life, when if I might but touch the hem of his garment it was bliss +enough for one day. Ah me, how often I have wet his feet with my +tears--poor, emaciated feet--and longed to be able to wipe them with my +hair, but dared not. He lay unconscious. He never knew the anguish of my +love. + +Then I was less despairing. The air around was filled with the echo of +his voice; I could shut my eyes, and bring him before me. His face was +always visible to my soul. + +One day the idea came into my head to extend my ramble into the country +outside, in order to get a wider view. I went to the gate. + +The porter came out and asked what I wanted. I told him. + +"You can't go out," said he, rudely. + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, them's Potts's orders--that's enough, I think." + +"He never said so to me," I replied, mildly. + +"That's no odds; he said so to me, and he told me if you made any row to +tell you that you were watched, and might just as well give up at once." + +"Watched!" said I, wonderingly. + +"Yes--for fear you'd get skittish, and try and do something foolish. Old +Potts is bound to keep you under his thumb." + +I turned away. I did not care much. I felt more surprise than any thing +else to think that he would take the trouble to watch me. Whether he did +or not was of little consequence. If I could only be where I had the sea +before me it was enough. + +That day, on going back to the Hall, I saw John sitting on the piazza. +A huge bull-dog which he used to take with him every where was lying at +his feet. Just before I reached the steps a Malay servant came out of +the house. + +He was about the same age as John. I knew him to be a Malay when I first +saw him, and concluded that my father had picked him up in the East. He +was slight but very lithe and muscular, with dark glittering eyes and +glistening white teeth. He never looked at me when I met him, but always +at the ground, without seeming to be aware of my existence. + +The Malay was passing out when John called out to him, + +"Hi, there, Vijal!" + +Vijal looked carelessly at him. + +"Here!" cried John, in the tone with which he would have addressed his +dog. + +Vijal stopped carelessly. + +"Pick up my hat, and hand it to me." + +His hat had fallen down behind him. Vijal stood without moving, and +regarded him with an evil smile. + +"D--n you, do you hear?" cried John. "Pick up my hat." + +But Vijal did not move. + +"If you don't, I'll set the dog on you," cried John, starting to his +feet in a rage. + +Still Vijal remained motionless. + +"Nero!" cried John, furiously, pointing to Vijal, "seize him, Sir." + +The dog sprang up and at once leaped upon Vijal. Vijal warded off the +assault with his arm. The dog seized it, and held on, as was his nature. +Vijal did not utter a cry, but seizing the dog, he threw him on his +back, and flinging himself upon him, fixed his own teeth in the dog's +throat. + +John burst into a torrent of the most frightful curses. He ordered Vijal +to let go of the dog. Vijal did not move; but while the dog's teeth were +fixed in his arm, his own were still fixed as tenaciously in the throat +of the dog. + +John sprang forward and kicked him with frightful violence. He leaped on +him and stamped on him. At last, Vijal drew a knife from his girdle and +made a dash at John. This frightened John, who fell back cursing. Vijal +then raised his head. + +The dog lay motionless. He was dead. Vijal sat down, his arm running +blood, with the knife in his hand, still glaring at John. + +During this frightful scene I stood rooted to the spot in horror. At +last the sight of Vijal's suffering roused me. I rushed forward, and +tearing the scarf from my neck, knelt down and reached out my hand to +stanch the blood. + +Vijal drew back. "Poor Vijal," said I, "let me stop this blood. I can +dress wounds. How you suffer!" + +He looked at me in bewilderment. Surprise at hearing a kind word in this +house of horror seemed to deprive him of speech. Passively he let me +take his arm, and I bound it up as well as I could. + +All this time John stood cursing, first me, and then Vijal. I said not a +word, and Vijal did not seem to hear him, but sat regarding me with his +fiery black eyes. When at last I had finished, he rose and still stood +staring at me. I walked into the house. + +John hurled a torrent of imprecations after me. The last words that I +heard were the same as he had said once before. "You've got to be took +down; and I'll be d--d if you don't get took down precious soon!" + +I told Mrs. Compton of what had happened. As usual, she was seized with +terror. She looked at me with a glance of fearful apprehension. At last +she gasped out: + +"They'll kill you." + +"Let them," said I, carelessly; "it would be better than living." + +"Oh dear!" groaned the poor old thing, and sank sobbing in a chair. I +did what I could to soothe her, but to little purpose. She afterward +told me that Vijal had escaped further punishment in spite of John's +threats, and hinted that they were half afraid of him. + +The next day, on attempting to go out, Philips told me that I was not +to be permitted to leave the house. I considered it the result of John's +threat, and yielded without a word. + +After this I had to seek distraction from my thoughts within the house. +Now there came over me a great longing for music. Once, when in the +drawing-room on that famous evening of the abortive fete, which was the +only time I ever was there, I had noticed a magnificent grand piano of +most costly workmanship. The thought of this came to my mind, and an +unconquerable desire to try it arose. So I went down and began to play. + +It was a little out of tune, but the tone was marvelously full and +sweet. I threw myself with indescribable delight into the charm of +the hour. All the old joy which music once used to bring came back. +Imagination, stimulated by the swelling harmonies, transported me far +away from this prison-house and its hateful associations to that happier +time of youth when not a thought of sorrow came over me. I lost myself +therein. Then that passed, that life vanished, and the sea-voyage began. +The thoughts of my mind and the emotions of my heart passed down to the +quivering chords and trembled into life and sound. + +I do not know how long I had been playing when suddenly I heard a sob +behind me. I started and turned. It was Philips. + +He was standing with tears in his eyes and a rapt expression on his +emaciated face, his hands hanging listless, and his whole air that of +one who had lost all senses save that of hearing. But as I turned and +stopped, the spell that bound him was broken. He sighed and looked at me +earnestly. + +[Illustration: "I STOOD LOOKING AT HIM WITH A GAZE SO FIXED AND INTENSE +THAT IT SEEMED AS IF ALL MY BEING WERE CENTERED IN MY EYES."] + +"Can you sing?" + +"Would you like me to do so?" + +"Yes," he said, in a faint imploring voice. + +I began a low song--a strain associated with that same childhood of +which I had just been thinking--a low, sad strain, sweet to my ears and +to my soul; it spoke of peace and innocence, quiet home joys, and calm +delights. My own mind brought before me the image of the house where I +had lived, with the shadow of great trees around, and gorgeous flowers +every where, where the sultry air breathed soft, and beneath the hot +noon all men sank to rest and slumber. + +When I stopped I turned again. Philips had not changed his attitude. But +as I turned he uttered an exclamation and tore out his watch. + +"Oh, Heavens!--two hours!" he exclaimed. "He'll kill me for this." + +With these words he rushed out of the room. + +I kept up my music for about ten days, when one day it was stopped +forever. I was in the middle of a piece when I heard heavy footsteps +behind me. I turned and saw my father. I rose and looked at him with an +effort to be respectful. It was lost on him, however. He did not glance +at me. + +"I came up to say to you," said he, after a little hesitation, "that I +can't stand this infernal squall and clatter any longer. So in future +you just shut up." + +He turned and left me. I closed the piano forever, and went to my room. + +The year ended, and a new year began. January passed away. My melancholy +began to affect my health. I scarcely ever slept at night, and to eat +was difficult. I hoped that I was going to die. Alas! death will not +come when one calls. One day I was in my room lying on the couch when +Mrs. Compton came. On entering she looked terrified about something. She +spoke in a very agitated voice: "They want you down stairs." + +"Who?" + +"Mr. Potts and John." + +"Well," said I, and I prepared to get ready. + +"When do they want me?" + +"Now," said Mrs. Compton, who by this time was crying. + +"Why are you so agitated?" I asked. + +"I am afraid for you." + +"Why so? Can any thing be worse?" + +"Ah, my dearest! you don't know--you don't know." + +I said nothing more, but went down. On entering the room I saw my father +and John seated at a table with brandy before them. A third man was +there. He was a thick-set man of about the same height of my father, +but more muscular, with a strong, square jaw, thick neck, low brow, +and stern face. My father did not show any actual ferocity in his face +whatever he felt; but this man's face expressed relentless cruelty. + +On entering the room I walked up a little distance and stood looking at +them. + +"There, Clark; what do you think of that?" said my father. + +The name, Clark, at once made known to me who this man was--that old +associate of my father--his assistant on board the _Vishnu_. Yet the +name did not add one whit to the abhorrence which I felt--my father was +worse even than he. + +The man Clark looked at me scrutinizingly for some time. + +"So that's the gal," said he, at last. + +"That's the gal," said my father. + +Clark waved his hand at me. "Turn round sideways," said he. + +I looked at him quietly without moving. He repeated the order, but I +took no notice of it. + +"D--n her!" said he. "Is she deaf?" + +"Not a bit of it," said John; "but she's plucky. She'd just as soon +you'd kill her as not. There isn't any way of moving her." + +"Turn round!" cried my father, angrily. + +I turned as he said. "You see," said he, with a laugh, "she's been +piously brought up; she honors her father." + +At this Clark burst into a loud laugh. + +Some conversation followed about me as I stood there. Clark then ordered +me to turn round and face him. I took no notice; but on my father's +ordering it, I obeyed as before. This appeared to amuse them all very +greatly, just as the tricks of an intelligent poodle might have done. +Clark gave me many commands on purpose to see my refusal, and have my +father's order which followed obeyed. + +"Well," said he, at last, leaning back in his chair, "she is a showy +piece of furniture. Your idea isn't a bad one either." + +He rose from his chair and came toward me. I stood looking at him with a +gaze so fixed and intense that it seemed as if all my being were centred +in my eyes. + +He came up and reached out to take hold of my arm. I stepped back. He +looked up angrily. But, for some reason, the moment that he caught sight +of my face, an expression of fear passed over his. + +"Heavens!" he groaned; "look at that face!" I saw my father look at me. +The same horror passed over his countenance. An awful thought came +to me. As these men turned their faces away from me in fear I felt my +strength going. I turned and rushed from the room. I do not remember any +thing more. + +It was early in February when this occurred. Until the beginning of +August I lay senseless. For the first four months I hovered faintly +between life and death. + +Why did they not let me die? Why did I not die? Alas! had I died I might +now have been beyond this sorrow: I have waked to meet it all again. + +Mrs. Compton says she found me on the floor of my own room, and that I +was in a kind of stupor. I had no fever or delirium. A doctor came, who +said it was a congestion of the brain. Thoughts like mine might well +destroy the brain forever. + +For a month I have been slowly recovering. I can now walk about the +room. I know nothing of what is going on in the house, and wish to know +nothing. Mrs. Compton is as devoted as ever. + +I have got thus far, and will stop here. I have been several days +writing this. I must stop till I am stronger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS. + +More than a year had passed since that visit to Thornton Grange which +has already been mentioned. Despard had not forgotten or neglected the +melancholy case of the Brandon family. He had written in all directions, +and had gone on frequent visits. + +On his return from one of these he went to the Grange. Mrs. Thornton was +sitting in the drawing-room, looking pensively out of the window, when +she saw his well-known figure advancing up the avenue. His face was sad, +and pervaded by a melancholy expression, which was noticeable now as he +walked along. + +But when he came into the room that melancholy face suddenly lighted up +with the most radiant joy. Mrs. Thornton advanced to meet him, and he +took her hand in both of his. + +"I ought to say, welcome back again," said she, with forced liveliness, +"but you may have been in Holby a week for all I know. When did you come +back? Confess now that you have been secluding yourself in your study +instead of paying your respects in the proper quarter." + +Despard smiled. "I arrived home at eleven this morning. It is now three +P.M. by my watch. Shall I say how impatiently I have waited till three +o'clock should come? + +"Oh no! don't say any thing of the sort. I can imagine all that you +would say. But tell me where you have been on this last visit?" + +"Wandering like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none." + +"Have you been to London again?" + +"Where have I not been?" + +By this time they had seated themselves. + +"My last journey," said Despard, "like my former ones, was, of course, +about the Brandon affair. You know that I have had long conversations +with Mr. Thornton about it, and he insists that nothing whatever can +be done. But you know, also, that I could not sit down idly and +calmly under this conviction. I have felt most keenly the presence +of intolerable wrong. Every day I have felt as if I had shared in the +infamy of those who neglected that dying man. That was the reason why I +wrote to Australia to see if the Brandon who was drowned was really the +one I supposed. I heard, you know, that he was the same man, and there +is no doubt about that. Then you know, as I told you, that I went around +among different lawyers to see if any thing could be done. Nearly all +asserted that no redress was possible. That is what Mr. Thornton said. +There was one who said that if I were rich enough I might begin a +prosecution, but as I am not rich that did me no good. That man would +have been glad, no doubt, to have undertaken such a task." + +"What is there in law that so hardens the heart?" said Mrs. Thornton, +after a pause. "Why should it kill all sentiment, and destroy so utterly +all the more spiritual qualities?" + +"I don't think that the law does this necessarily. It depends after all +on the man himself. If I were a lawyer, I should still love music above +all things." + +"But did you ever know a lawyer who loved music?" + +"I have not known enough of them to answer that. But in England music is +not loved so devotedly as in other countries. Is it inconceivable that +an Italian lawyer should love music?" + +"I don't know. Law is abhorrent to me. It seems to be a profession that +kills the finer sentiments." + +"Why so, more than medicine? The fact is where ordinary men are +concerned any scientific profession renders Art distasteful. At least +this is so in England. After all, most depends on the man himself, and, +one who is born with a keen sensibility to the charms of art will carry +it through life, whatever his profession may be. + +"But suppose the man himself has neither taste, nor sensibility, nor any +appreciation of the beautiful, nor any sympathy whatever with those who +love such things, what then?" + +Mrs. Thornton spoke earnestly as she asked this. + +"Well," said Despard, "that question answers itself. As a man is born, +so he is; and if nature denies him taste or sensibility it makes no +difference what is his profession." + +Mrs. Thornton made no reply. + +"My last journey," said Despard, "was about the Brandon case. I went +to London first to see if something could not be done. I had been +there before on the same errand, but without success. I was equally +unsuccessful this time. + +"I tried to find out about Potts, the man who had purchased the estate, +but learned that it was necessary to go to the village of Brandon. I +went there, and made inquiries. Without exception the people sympathized +with the unfortunate family, and looked with detestation upon the man +who had supplanted them. + +"I heard that a young lady went there last year who was reputed to be +his daughter. Every one said that she was extraordinarily beautiful, and +looked like a lady. She stopped at the inn under the care of a gentleman +who accompanied her, and went to the Hall. She has never come out of it +since. + +"The landlord told me that the gentleman was a pale, sad-looking man, +with dark hair and beard. He seemed very devoted to the young lady, and +parted with her in melancholy silence. His account of this young lady +moved me very strangely. He was not at all a sentimental man, but a +burly John Bull, which made his story all the more touching. It is +strange, I must say, that one like her should go into that place and +never be seen again. I do not know what to think of it, nor did any of +those with whom I spoke in the village." + +"Do you suppose that she really went there and never came back?" + +"That is what they say." + +"Then they must believe that she is kept there." + +"Yes, so they do." + +"Why do they not take some steps in the matter?" + +"What can they do? She is his daughter. Some of the villagers who have +been to the Hall at different times say that they heard her playing and +singing." + +"That does not sound like imprisonment." + +"The caged bird sings." + +"Then you think she is a prisoner?" + +"I think it odd that she has never come out, not even to go to church." + +"It is odd." + +"This man Potts excited sufficient interest in my mind to lead me to +make many inquiries. I found, throughout the county, that every body +utterly despised him. They all thought that poor Ralph Brandon had +been almost mad, and, by his madness had ruined his family. Every body +believed that Potts had somehow deceived him, but no one could tell how. +They could not bring any direct proof against him. + +"But I found out in Brandon the sad particulars of the final fate of +the poor wife and her unfortunate children. They had been sent away or +assisted away by this Potts to America, and had all died either on the +way out or shortly after they had arrived, according to the villagers. I +did not tell them what I knew, but left them to believe what they chose. +It seemed to me that they must have received this information from Potts +himself; who alone in that poor community would have been able to trace +the fortunes of the unhappy emigrants." + +There was a long silence. + +"I have done all that I could," said Despard, in a disconsolate tone, +"and I suppose nothing now remains to be done. When we hear again from +Paolo there may be some new information upon which we can act." + +"And you can go back to your Byzantine poets." + +"Yes, if you will assist me." + +"You know I shall only be too happy." + +"And I shall be eternally grateful. You see, as I told you before, there +is a field of labor here for the lover of music which is like a new +world. I will give you the grandest musical compositions that you have +ever seen. I will let you have the old hymns of the saints who lived +when Constantinople was the only civilized spot in Europe, and the +Christians there were hurling back the Mohammedans. You shall sing the +noblest songs that you have ever seen." + +"How--in Greek? You must teach me the alphabet then." + +"No; I will translate them for you. The Greek hymns are all in +rhythmical prose, like the _Te Deum_ and the _Gloria_. A literal +translation can be sung as well as the originals. You will then enter +into the mind and spirit of the ancient Eastern Church before the days +of the schism. + +"Yes," continued Despard, with an enthusiasm which he did not care to +conceal, "we will go together at this sweet task, and we will sing the +[Greek: cath castaen aemeran], which holds the same place in the Greek +Church that the _Te Deum_ does in ours. We will chant together the +Golden Canon of St. John Damascene--the Queen of Canons, the grandest +song of 'Christ is risen' that mortals ever composed. Your heart and +mine will beat together with one feeling at the sublime choral strain. +We will sing the 'Hymn of Victory.' We will go together over the songs +of St. Cosmas, St. Theophanes, and St. Theodore; St. Gregory, St. +Anatobus, and St. Andrew of Crete shall inspire us; and the thoughts +that have kindled the hearts of martyrs at the stake shall exalt our +souls to heaven. But I have more than this. I have some compositions of +my own; poor ones, indeed, yet an effort in the right way. They are a +collection of those hymns of the Primitive Church which are contained in +the New Testament. I have tried to set them to music. They are: 'Worthy +is the Lamb,' 'Unto Him that loved us,' 'Great and marvelous are thy +works,' and the 'Trisagion.' Yes, we will go together at this lofty and +heavenly work, and I shall be able to gain a new interpretation from +your sympathy." + +Despard spoke with a vehement enthusiasm that kindled his eyes with +unusual lustre and spread a glow over his pale face. He looked like +some devotee under a sudden inspiration. Mrs. Thornton caught all +his enthusiasm; her eyes brightened, and her face also flushed with +excitement. + +"Whenever you are ready to lead me into that new world of music," said +she, "I am ready to follow." + +"Are you willing to begin next Monday?" + +"Yes. All my time is my own." + +"Then I will come for you." + +"Then I will be waiting for you. By-the-way, are you engaged for +to-night?" + +"No; why?" + +"There is going to be a fete champetre. It is a ridiculous thing for the +Holby people to do; but I have to go to play the patroness. Mr. Thornton +does not want to go. Would you sacrifice yourself to my necessities, and +allow me your escort?" + +"Would a thirsty man be willing to accept a cooling draught?" said +Despard, eagerly. "You open heaven before me, and ask me if I will +enter." + +His voice trembled, and he paused. + +"You never forget yourself," said Mrs. Thornton, with slight agitation, +looking away as she spoke. + +"I will be back at any hour you say." + +"You will do no such thing. Since you are here you must remain and dine, +and then go with me. Do you suppose I would trust you? Why, if I let you +go, you might keep me waiting a whole hour." + +"Well, if your will is not law to me what is? Speak, and your servant +obeys. To stay will only add to my happiness." + +"Then let me make you happy by forcing you to stay." + +Despard's face showed his feelings, and to judge by its expression his +language had not been extravagant. + +The afternoon passed quietly. Dinner was served up. Thornton came in, +and greeted Despard with his usual abstraction, leaving his wife to +do the agreeable. After dinner, as usual, he prepared for a nap, and +Despard and Mrs. Thornton started for the fete. + +It was to be in some gardens at the other end of Holby, along the shore. +The townspeople had recently formed a park there, and this was one of +the preliminaries to its formal inauguration. The trees were hung with +innumerable lamps of varied colors. There were bands of music, and +triumphal arches, and gay festoons, and wreaths of flowers, and every +thing that is usual at such a time. + +On arriving, Despard assisted Mrs. Thornton from the carriage and +offered his arm. She took it, but her hand rested so lightly on it +that its touch was scarce perceptible. They walked around through the +illuminated paths. Great crowds of people were there. All looked with +respectful pleasure at Mrs. Thornton and the Rector. + +"You ought to be glad that you have come," said she. "See how these poor +people feel it: we are not persons of very great consequence, yet our +presence is marked and enjoyed." + +"All places are alike to me," answered Despard, "when I am with you. +Still, there are circumstances about this which will make it forever +memorable to me." + +"Look at those lights," exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, suddenly; "what varied +colors!" + +"Let us walk into that grotto," said Despard, turning toward a cool, +dark place which lay before them. + +Here, at the end of the grotto, was a tree, at the foot of which was +a seat. They sat down and staid for hours. In the distance the lights +twinkled and music arose. They said little, but listened to the confused +murmur which in the pauses of the music came up from afar. + +Then they rose and walked back. Entering the principal path a great +crowd streamed on which they had to face. + +Despard sighed. "You and I," said he, stooping low and speaking in a sad +voice, "are compelled to go against the tide." + +"Shall we turn back and go with it?" + +"We can not." + +"Do you wish to turn aside?" + +"We can not. We must walk against the tide, and against the rush of men. +If we turn aside there is nothing but darkness." + +They walked on in silence till they reached the gate. + +"The carriage has not come," said Mrs. Thornton. + +"Do you prefer riding?" + +"No." + +"It is not far. Will you walk?" + +"With pleasure." + +They walked on slowly. About half-way they met the carriage. Mrs. +Thornton ordered it back, saying that she would walk the rest of the +way. + +They walked on slowly, saying so little that at last Mrs. Thornton began +to speak about the music which they had proposed to undertake. Despard's +enthusiasm seemed to have left him. His replies were vague and general. +On reaching the gate he stood still for a moment under the trees and +half turned toward her. "You don't say any thing about the music?" said +she. + +"That's because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not capable of +a single coherent idea." + +"You are thinking of something else all the time." + +"My brain is in a whirl. Yes, I am thinking of something else." + +"Of what?" + +"I'm afraid to say." + +Mrs. Thornton was silent. They entered the gate and walked up the +avenue, slowly and in silence. Despard made one or two efforts to stop, +and then continued. At last they reached the door. The lights were +streaming brightly from window. Despard stood, silently. + +"Will you not come in?" + +"No, thank you," said he, dreamily. "It is rather too late, and I must +go. Good-night." + +He held out his hand. She offered hers, and he took it. He held it long, +and half stooped as though he wished to say something. She felt the +throbbing of his heart in his hand as it clasped hers. She said nothing. +Nor did Despard seem able to say any thing. At last he let go her hand +slowly and reluctantly. + +"You will not forget the music?" said he. + +"No." + +"Good-night." + +He took her hand again in both of his. As the light shone through the +windows she saw his face--a face full of longing beyond words, and +sadness unutterable. + +"Good-night," she faltered. + +He let go her hand, and turning away, was lost amidst the gloom. She +waited till the sound of his footsteps had died away, and then went into +the house. + +On the following morning Despard was walking along when he met her +suddenly at a corner of the street. He stopped with a radiant face, and +shaking hands with her, for a moment was unable to speak. + +"This is too much happiness," he said at last. "It is like a ray of +light to a poor captive when you burst upon me so suddenly. Where are +you going?" + +"Oh, I'm only going to do a little shopping." + +"I'm sure I wish that I could accompany you to protect you." + +"Well, why not?" + +"On the whole, I think that shopping is not my forte, and that my +presence would not be essential." + +He turned, however, and walked with her some distance, as far as the +farthest shop in the town. They talked gayly and pleasantly about the +fete. "You will not forget the music," said he, on parting. "Will +you come next Monday? If you don't, I won't be responsible for the +consequences." + +"Do you mean to say, Sir, that you expect me to come alone?" + +"I did not hope for any thing else." + +"Why, of course, you must call for me. If you do not I won't go." + +Despard's eyes brightened. + +"Oh, then, since you allow me so sweet a privilege, I will go and +accompany you." + +"If you fail me I will stay at home," said she, laughingly. + +He did not fail her, but at the appointed time went up to the Grange. +Some strangers were there, and Mrs. Thornton gave him a look of deep +disappointment. The strangers were evidently going to spend the day, +so Despard, after a short call, withdrew. Before he left, Mrs. Thornton +absented herself on some pretext for a few moments, and as he quitted +the room she went to the door with him and gave him a note. + +He walked straight home, holding the note in his hands till he reached +his study; then he locked himself in, opened the note, and read as +follows: + +"DEAR MR. DESPARD,--How does it happen that things turn out just as they +ought not? I was so anxious to go with you to the church to-day about +our music. I know my own powers; they are not contemptible; they are +not uncultivated; they are simply, and wholly, and irretrievably +_commonplace_. That much I deem it my duty to inform you. + +"These wretched people, who have spoiled a day's pleasure, dropped upon +me as suddenly as though they had come from the skies. They leave on +Thursday morning. Come on Thursday afternoon. If you do not I will never +forgive you. On that day give up your manuscripts and books for music +and the organ, and allot some portion of your time to, Yours, + +"T.T." + +On Thursday Despard called, and Mrs. Thornton was able to accompany +him. The church was an old one, and had one of the best organs in Wales. +Despard was to play and she to sing. He had his music ready, and the +sheets were carefully and legibly written out from the precious old +Greek scores which he loved so dearly and prized so highly. + +They began with the canon for Easter-day of St. John Damascene, who, +according to Despard, was the best of the Eastern hymnists. Mrs. +Thornton's voice was rich and full. As she came to the [Greek: +anastaseos haemera]--Resurrection Day--it took up a tone of +indescribable exaltation, blending with the triumph peal of the organ. +Despard added his own voice--a deep, strong, full-toned basso--and +their blended strains bore aloft the sublimest of utterances, "Christ is +arisen!" + +[Illustration: AND THEIR BLENDED STRAINS BORE ALOFT THE SUBLIMEST OF +UTTERANCES, 'CHRIST IS ARISEN'] + +Then followed a more mournful chant, full of sadness and profound +melancholy, the [Greek: teleutaion aspasmon]--the Last Kiss--the hymn of +the dead, by the same poet. + +Then followed a sublimer strain, the hymn of St. Theodore on the +Judgment--[Greek: taen haemeran taen phriktaen]--where all the horrors +of the day of doom are set forth. The chant was commensurate with the +dread splendors of the theme. The voices of the two singers blended in +perfect concord. The sounds which were thus wrought out bore themselves +through the vaulted aisles, returning again to their own ears, imparting +to their own hearts something of the awe with which imagination has +enshrouded the Day of days, and giving to their voices that saddened +cadence which the sad spirit can convey to its material utterance. + +Despard then produced some composition of his own, made after the manner +of the Eastern chants, which he insisted were the primitive songs of the +early Church. The words were those fragments of hymns which are imbedded +in the text of the New Testament. He chose first the song of the angels, +which was first sung by "a great voice out of heaven"--[Greek: idou, hae +skaenae tou Deou]--Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men! + +The chant was a marvelous one. It spoke of sorrow past, of grief stayed, +of misery at an end forever, of tears dried, and a time when "there +shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying." There was a gentle +murmur in the flow of that solemn, soothing strain which was like the +sighing of the evening wind among the hoary forest trees; it soothed and +comforted; it brought hope, and holy calm, and sweet peace. + +As Despard rose from the organ Mrs. Thornton looked at him with +moistened eyes. + +"I do not know whether your song brings calm or unrest," said she, +sadly, "but after singing it I would wish to die." + +"It is not the music, it is the words," answered Despard, "which bring +before us a time when there shall be no sorrow or sighing." + +"May such a time ever be?" murmured she. + +"That," he replied, "it is ours to aim after. There is such a world. +In that world all wrongs will be righted, friends will be reunited, +and those severed here through all this earthly life will be joined for +evermore." + +Their eyes met. Their spirit lived and glowed in that gaze. It was sad +beyond expression, but each one held commune with the other in a mute +intercourse, more eloquent than words. + +Despard's whole frame trembled. "Will you sing the _Ave Maria_?" he +asked, in a low, scarce audible voice. Her head dropped. She gave a +convulsive sigh. He continued: "We used to sing it in the old days, the +sweet, never-forgotten days now past forever. We sang it here. We stood +hand in hand." + +His voice faltered. + +"Sing," he said, after a time. + +"I can not" + +Despard sighed. "Perhaps it is better not; for I feel as though, if you +were to sing it, my heart would break." + +"Do you believe that hearts can break?" she asked gently, but with +indescribable pathos. + +Despard looked at her mournfully, and said not a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +CLASPED HANDS. + +Their singing went on. + +They used to meet once a week and sing in the church at the organ. +Despard always went up to the Grange and accompanied her to the church. +Yet he scarcely ever went at any other time. A stronger connection and +a deeper familiarity arose between them, which yet was accompanied by a +profound reverence on Despard's part, that never diminished, but as the +familiarity increased only grew more tender and more devoted. + +There were many things about their music which he had to say to her. It +constituted a common bond between them on which they could talk, and to +which they could always revert. It formed a medium for the communion of +soul--a lofty, spiritual intercourse, where they seemed to blend, even +as their voices blended, in a purer realm, free from the trouble of +earth. + +Amidst it all Despard had so much to tell her about the nature of the +Eastern music that he wrote out a long letter, which he gave her they +parted after an unusually lengthy practice. Part of it was on the +subject of music, and the rest of a different character. + +The next time that they met she gave him a note in response. + +"DEAR MR. DESPARD--Why am I not a seraph endowed with musical powers +beyond mortal reach? You tell me many things, and never seem to +imagine that they are all beyond me. You never seem to think that I am +hopelessly commonplace. You are kind in doing what you do, but where is +the good where one is so stupid as I am? + +"I suppose you have given up visiting the Grange forever. I don't call +your coming to take me to the church _visits_. I suppose I may as well +give you up. It is as difficult to get you here as if you were the Grand +Lama of Thibet. + +"Amidst all my stupidities I have two or three ideas which may be useful +in our music, if I can only put them in practice. Bear with me, and deal +gently with + +"Yours, despondingly, + +"T. T." + +To this Despard replied in a note which he gave her at their next +meeting, calling her "Dear Seraph," and signing himself "Grand Lama." +After this they always called each other by these names. Grand Lama was +an odd name, but it became the sweetest of sounds to Despard since +it was uttered by her lips--the sweetest, the most musical, and the +tenderest. As to himself he knew not what to call this dear companion of +his youth, but the name Seraph came into use, and grew to be associated +with her, until at last he never called her any thing else. + +Yet after this he used to go to the Grange more frequently. He could +not stay away. His steps wandered there irresistibly. An uncontrollable +impulse forced him there. She was always alone awaiting him, generally +with a sweet confusion of face and a tenderness of greeting which made +him feel ready to fall on his knees before her. How else could he feel? +Was she not always in his thoughts? Were not all his sleeping hours one +long dream of her? Were not all his waiting thoughts filled with her +radiant presence? + + "How is it under our control + To love or not to love?" + +Did he know what it was that he felt for her? He never thought. Enough +that he felt. And that feeling was one long agony of intense longing and +yearning after her. Had not all his life been filled by that one bright +image? + +Youth gave it to him. After-years could not efface it. The impress of +her face was upon his heart. Her voice was always in his ears. Every +word that she had ever spoken to him was treasured up in his memory and +heart with an avarice of love which prevented any one word from even +being forgotten. + +At church and at home, during service and out of it, in the street or +in the study, he saw only one face, and heard only one voice. Amidst the +bustle of committee meetings he was conscious of her image--a sweet face +smiling on him, a tender voice saying "Lama." Was there ever so musical +and so dear a word as "Lama?" For him, never. + +The hunger of his longing grew stronger every day. That strong, proud, +self-secluded nature of his was most intense in all its feelings, and +dwelt with concentrated passion upon this one object of its idolatry. He +had never had any other object but this one. + +A happy boyhood passed in the society of this sweet playmate, then a +young girl of his own age; a happy boyhood here in Holby, where they had +always been inseparable, wandering hand in hand along the shore or over +the hills; a happy boyhood where she was the one and only companion +whom he knew or cared for--this was the sole legacy of his early life. +Leaving Holby he had left her, but had never forgotten her. He had +carried with him the tender memory of this bright being, and cherished +his undying fondness, not knowing what that fondness meant. He had +returned to find her married, and severed from him forever, at least in +this life. When he found that he had lost her he began to understand +how dear she was. All life stood before him aimless, pointless, and +meaningless without her. He came back, but the old intercourse could not +be renewed; she could not be his, and he could only live, and love, and +endure. Perhaps it would have been wiser if he had at once left Holby +and sought out some other abode. But the discovery of his love was +gradual; it came through suffering and anguish; and when he knew that +his love was so intense it was then impossible to leave. To be near her, +to breathe the same air, to see her face occasionally, to nurse his old +memories, to hoard up new remembrances of her words and looks--these +now became the chief occupation of his hours of solitude, and the only +happiness left him in his life. + +One day he went up with a stronger sense of desolation in his heart than +usual, going up to see her in order to get consolation from the sight of +her face and the sound of her voice. Their former levity had given place +to a seriousness of manner which was very different. A deep, intense joy +shone in the eyes of each at meeting, but that quick repartee and light +badinage which they had used of old had been dropped. + +Music was the one thing of which they could speak without fear. Despard +could talk of his Byzantine poets, and the chants of the Eastern Church, +without being in danger of reawakening painful memories. The piano stood +close by, and always afforded a convenient mode of distracting attention +when it became too absorbed in one another. + +For Mrs. Thornton did not repel him; she did not resent his longing; she +did not seem forgetful of what he so well remembered. How was it with +her who had given her hand to another? + + "What she felt the while + Dare he think?" + +Yet there were times when he thought it possible that she might feel as +he did. The thought brought joy, but it also brought fear. For, if the +struggle against this feeling needed all the strength of his nature, +what must it cost her? If she had such a struggle as he, how could she +endure it? Then, as he considered this, he thought to himself that he +would rather she would not love him than love him at such a cost. He was +willing to sacrifice his own heart. He wished only to adore her, and was +content that she should receive, and permit, and accept his adoration, +herself unmoved--a passionless divinity. + +In their intercourse it was strange how frequently there were long +pauses of perfect silence, during which neither spoke a word. Sometimes +each sat looking at the floor; sometimes they looked at one another, as +though they could read each other's thoughts, and by the mere gaze of +their earnest eyes could hold ample spiritual communion. + +On one such occasion they stood by the window looking out upon the lawn, +but seeing nothing in that abstracted gaze. Despard stood facing her, +close to her. Her hand was hanging by her side. He stooped and took that +little slender hand in his. As he did so he trembled from head to foot. +As he did so a faint flush passed over her face. Her head fell forward. +Despard held her hand and she did not withdraw it. Despard drew her +slightly toward him. She looked up into his face with large, eloquent +eyes, sad beyond all description, yet speaking things which thrilled his +soul. He looked down upon her with eyes that told her all that was in +his heart. She turned her head away. + +Despard clung to her hand as though that hand were his life, his hope, +his joy--as though that alone could save him from some abyss of despair +into which he was falling. His lips moved. In vain. No audible sound +broke that intense stillness in which the beating and throbbing of those +two forlorn hearts could be heard. His lips moved, but all sound died +away upon them. + +At last a stronger effort broke the silence. + +"Teresa!" + +It was a strange tone, a tone of longing unutterable, a tone like that +which a dying man might use in calling before him one most dear. And all +the pent-up feeling of years rushed forth in concentrated energy, and +was borne to her ears in the sound of that one word. She looked up with +the same glance as before. + +"Little playmate," said he, in a tone of infinite sweetness, "have you +ever forgotten the old days? Do you remember when you and I last stood +hand in hand?" + +His voice sounded like the utterance of tears, as though, if he could +have wept, he would then have wept as no man wept before, but his eyes +were dry through his manhood, and all that tears can express were shown +forth in his tone. + +As he began to speak her head fell again. As he ended she looked up as +before. Her lips moved. She whispered but one word: + +"Courtenay!" + +She burst into a flood of tears and sank into a chair. And Despard +stood, not daring even to soothe her, for fear lest in that vehement +convulsion of his soul all his self-command should give way utterly. + +At length Mrs. Thornton rose. "Lama," said she, at last, in a low, sad +voice, "let us go to the piano." + +"Will you sing the _Ave Maria_" he asked, mournfully. + +"I dare not," said she, hastily. "No, anything but that. I will sing +Rossini's _Cujus Animam_." + +Then followed those words which tell in lofty strains of a broken heart: + + Cujus animam gementem + Contristatam et flebentem + Pertransivit gladius! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. + +When Mrs. Thornton saw Despard next she showed him a short note which +she had just received from her brother, accompanying his journal. Nearly +two years had elapsed since she had last heard from him. + +His journal was written as before at long intervals, and was as follows: + +Halifax, April 10, 1847.--I exist here, but nothing more. Nothing is +offered by this small colonial town that can afford interest. Life goes +on monotonously. The officers and their families are what they are every +where. They are amiable and pleasant, and try to get the best out of +life. The townspeople are hospitable, and there is much refinement among +them. + +But I live for the most part in a cottage outside of the town, where +I can be secluded and free from observation. Near my house is the +Northwest Arm. I cross it in a boat, and am at once in a savage +wilderness. From the summit of a hill, appropriately named Mount Misery, +I can look down upon this city which is bordered by such a wilderness. + +The winter has passed since my last entry, and nothing has occurred. I +have learned to skate. I went out on a moose-hunt with Colonel Despard. +The gigantic horns of a moose which I killed are now over the door of my +studio. I have joined in some festivities, and have done the honors of +my house. It is an old-fashioned wooden structure which they call the +Priory. + +So the winter has passed, and April is now here. In this country there +is no spring. Snow is yet on the ground. Winter is transformed gradually +till summer. I must keep up my fires till June, they say. + +During the winter I have guarded my treasure well. I took a house on +purpose to have a home for her. But her melancholy continued, and the +state of mind in which I found her still endures. Will it ever change? +I gave out here that she was a relative who was in ill health. But the +winter has passed, and she remains precisely the same. Can she live on +long in this mood? + +At length I have decided to try a change for her. The Holy Sisterhood +of Mercy have a convent here, where she may find a higher and purer +atmosphere than any where else. There I have placed her. I have told +nothing of her story. They think she is in grief for the death of +friends. They have received her with that warm sympathy and holy love +which it is the aim of their life to cherish. + + O mater alma Christ! carissima, + Te nunc flagitant devota corda et ora, + Ora pro nobis! + +August 5, 1847.--The summer goes on pleasantly. A bracing climate, a +cool sea-breeze, fishing and hunting in the forests, sailing in the +harbor--these are the amusements which one can find if he has the +leisure. + +She has been among the Sisterhood of Mercy for some months. The deep +calm of that holy retreat has soothed her, but only this much, that her +melancholy has not lessened but grown more placid. She is in the midst +of those whose thoughts are habitually directed to that work which she +longs after. The home from which she has been exiled is the desire of +their hearts. They aim after that place for which she longs with so deep +a longing. There is sympathy in all those hearts with one another. She +hears in their chants and prayers those hopes and desires, and these are +but the utterances of what she feels. + +Here they sing the matchless Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix, and in these +words she finds the highest expression that human words can give of the +thoughts and desires of her soul. They tell me that the first time they +sang it, as they came to this passage she burst into tears and sank down +almost senseless: + + O bona patria! lumina sobria te speculantur, + Ad tua nomina sobria lumina collacrimantur: + Et tua mentio pectoris unctis, cura doloris, + Concipientibus aethers mentibus ignis amoris. + +November 17.--The winter must soon be here again. + +My treasure is well guarded by the Holy Sisterhood. They revere her and +look upon her as a saint. They tell me wonderful things about her which +have sunk into my soul. They think that she is another Saint Cecilia, or +rather Saint Teresa, the Saint of Love and Longing. + +She told them once that she was not a Catholic, but that any form of +worship was sweet and precious to her--most of all, the lofty utterances +of the prayers and hymns of the Church. She will not listen to dogmas, +but says that God wishes only love and praise. Yet she joins in all +their rites, and in this House, where Love is chiefly adored, she +surpasses all in the deep love of her heart. + +January 2, 1848.--I have seen her for the first time in many months. She +smiled. I never saw her smile before, except once in the ship, when I +told my name and made her mother take my place in the cabin. + +She smiled. It was as if an angel from heaven had smiled on me. Do I not +believe that she is one? + +They all say that she is unchanged. Her sadness has had no abatement. On +that meeting she made an effort for my sake to stoop to me. Perhaps +she saw how my very soul entreated her to speak. So she spoke of the +Sisterhood, and said she loved them all. I asked her if she was happier +here than at my house. She said "No." I did not know whether to feel +rejoiced or sorrowful. Then she told me something which has filled me +with wonder ever since. + +She asked me if I had been making inquiries about her family, for I had +said that I would. I told her that I had. She asked what I had heard. I +hesitated for a moment, and at last, seeing that she was superior to any +sorrow of bereavement; I told her all about the sad fate of her brother +Louis, which your old friend Courtenay Despard had communicated to his +uncle here. She listened without emotion, and at last, looking earnestly +at me, said, + +"_He is not dead!_" + +I stood amazed. I had seen the very newspapers which contained an +account of his death, I had read the letters of Courtenay Despard, which +showed how painstaking his search had been. Had he not traveled to every +place where he could hear any thing of the Brandons? Had he not written +at the very outset wherever he could hope to hear any thing? I did not +know what to say. + +For Louis Brandon is known to have fallen overboard from the ship Java, +during a tremendous monsoon, several hundred miles away from any land. +How could he possibly have escaped death? The Captain, whom Courtenay +Despard found out and questioned, said he threw over a hen-coop and a +pail. These could not save him. Despard also inquired for months from +every ship that arrived from those parts, but could learn nothing. The +next ship that came from New South Wales foundered off the coast of +Africa. Three passengers escaped to Sierra Leone, and thence to England. +Despard learned their names, but they were not Brandon. The information +which one of them, named Wheeler, gave to the ship-owners afforded +no hope of his having been found by this ship, even if it had been +possible. It was simply impossible, however, for the _Falcon_ did not +pass the spot where poor Brandon fell overboard till months had elapsed. + +All these things I knew, and they came to my mind. She did not notice +my emotion, but after a pause she looked at me again with the same +earnestness, and said, + +"_My brother Frank is not dead._" + +This surprised me as much as the other. + +"Are you sure?" said I, reverently. + +"I am." + +"How did you learn this? All who have inquired say that both of your +brothers are dead." + +"They told me," said she, "many times. _They_ said that my brothers had +not come among them to their own place, as they would have had to come +if they had left the earth." + +She spoke solemnly and with mysterious emphasis. I said nothing, for I +knew not what to say. + +On going home and thinking over this, I saw that she believed herself +to have the power of communicating with the departed. I did not know +whether this intelligence, which she believed she had received, had +been gained in her trance, or whether she thought that she had recent +interviews with those on high. I went to see her again, and asked this. +She told me that once since her recovery she had fallen into that state, +and had been, as she called it, "in her home." + +I ventured to ask her more about what she considered a communion with +the departed. She tried to speak, but looked like one who could not find +words. It was still the same as before. She has in her mind thoughts +which can not be expressed by any human language. She will not be able +to express them till such a language is obtained. Yet she gave me one +idea, which has been in my mind ever since. + +She said that the language of those among whom she has been has nothing +on earth which is like it except music. If our music could be developed +to an indefinite extent it might at last begin to resemble it. Yet +she said that she sometimes heard strains here in the Holy Mass which +reminded her of that language, and might be intelligible to an immortal. + +This is the idea which she imparted to me, and I have thought of it ever +since. + +August 23--Great things have happened. + +When I last wrote I had gained the idea of transforming music into a +language. The thought came to me that I, who thirst for music, and love +it and cherish it above all things--to whom it is an hourly comfort and +solace--that I might rise to utter forth to her sounds which she might +hear. I had already seen enough of her spiritual tone to know what +sympathies and emotions might best be acted upon. I saw her several +times, so as to stimulate myself to a higher and purer exercise of +whatever genius I may have. + +I was encouraged by the thought that from my earliest childhood, as I +began to learn to speak so I began to learn to sing. As I learned to +read printed type so I read printed music. The thoughts of composers in +music thus became as legible to me as those of composers in words. So +all my life my knowledge has widened, and with that knowledge my love +has increased. This has been my one aim in life--my joy and my delight. +Thus it came to pass that at last, when alone with my Cremona, I could +utter all my own thoughts, and pour forth every feeling that was in my +heart. This was a language with me. I spoke it, yet there was no one who +could understand it fully. Only one had I ever met with to whom I told +this besides yourself--she could accompany me--she could understand and +follow me wherever I led. I could speak this language to her, and she +could hear and comprehend. This one was my Bice. + +Now that she had told me this I grasped at the thought. Never before had +the idea entered my mind of trying upon her the effect of my music. I +had given it up for her sake while she was with me, not liking to cause +any sound to disturb her rapt and melancholy mood. + +But now I began to understand how it was with her. She had learned the +language of the highest places and had heard the New Song. She stood far +above me, and if she could not understand my music it would be from the +same reason that a grown man can not comprehend the words of a lisping, +stammering child. She had that language in its fullness. I had it only +in its crudest rudiments. + +Now Bice learned my words and followed me. She knew my utterance. I +was the master--she the disciple. But here was one who could lead me. I +would be the follower and disciple. From her I could learn more than in +all my life I could ever discover by my own unassisted efforts. + +It was mine, therefore, to struggle to overcome the lisping, stammering +utterance of my purely earthly music; to gain from her some knowledge of +the mood of that holier, heavenly expression, so that at last I might +be able in some degree to speak to this exile the language of the home +which she loved; that we, by holding commune in this language, might +rise together to a higher spiritual realm, and that she in her solitude +might receive at least some associate. + +So I proposed to her to come back and stay with me again. She consented +at once. + +Before that memorable evening I purified my heart by fasting and prayer. +I was like one who was seeking to ascend into heaven to take part in +that celestial communion, to join in the New Song, the music of the +angels. + +By fasting and prayer I sought so to ascend, and to find thoughts and +fit utterance for those thoughts. I looked upon my office as similar to +that of the holy prophets of old. I felt that I had a power of utterance +if the Divine One would only inspire. + +I fasted and prayed that so I might reduce this grosser material frame, +and sharpen and quicken every nerve, and stimulate every fibre of the +brain. So alone could I most nearly approach to the commune of spirits. +Thus had those saints and prophets of old done when they had entered +upon the search after this communion, and they had received their +reward, even the visitation of angels and the vision of the blessed. + +A prophet--yes--now, in these days, it is left for the prophet to utter +forth his inspiration by no other way than that of music. + +So I fasted and prayed. I took up the words from the holy priesthood, +and I said, as they say: + +Munda cor meum, ac labia mea, Omnipotens Deus, qui labia Isaiae +prophetae, calculo mundasti ignito! + +For so Isaiah had been exalted till he heard the language of heaven, the +music of the seraphim. + +She, my divinity, my adored, enshrined again in my house, bore herself +as before--kind to me and gentle beyond all expression, but with +thoughts of her own that placed between us a gulf as wide as that which +separates the mortal from the immortal. + +On that evening she was with me in the parlor which looks out upon the +Northwest Arm. The moon shone down there, the dark, rocky hills on the +opposite side rose in heavy masses. The servants were away in the city. +We were alone. + +Ah, my Cremona! if a material instrument were ever able to utter forth +sounds to which immortals might listen, thou, best gift of my father, +thou canst utter them! + +"You are pale," said she, for she was always kindly and affectionate as +a mother with a child, as a guardian angel with his ward. "You are pale. +You always forget yourself for others, and now you suffer anxiety for +me. Do not suffer. I have my consolations." + +I did not make any reply, but took my Cremona, and sought to lift up all +my soul to a level with hers, to that lofty realm where her spirit ever +wandered, that so I might not be comfortless. She started at the first +tone that I struck forth, and looked at me with her large, earnest eyes. +I found my own gaze fixed on hers, rapt and entranced. Now there came +at last the inspiration so longed for, so sought for. It came from where +her very soul looked forth into mine, out of the glory of her lustrous, +spiritual eyes. They grew brighter with an almost immortal radiance, and +all my heart rose up till it seemed ready to burst in the frenzy of that +inspired moment. + +Now I felt the spirit of prophecy, I felt the afflatus of the inspired +sibyl or seer, and the voice of music which for a lifetime I had sought +to utter forth now at last sounded as I longed that it should sound. + +I exulted in that sound. I knew that at last I had caught the tone, and +from her. I knew its meaning and exulted, as the poet or the musician +must always exult when some idea sublimer than any which he has ever +known is wafted over his upturned spiritual gaze. + +She shared my exaltation. There came over her face swiftly, like the +lightning flash, an expression of surprise and joy. So the face of the +exile lightens up at the throbbing of his heart, when, in some foreign +land, he suddenly and unexpectedly hears the sound of his own language. +So his eyes light up, and his heart beats faster, and even amidst the +very longing of his soul after home, the desire after that home is +appeased by these its most hallowed associations. + +And the full meaning of that eloquent gaze of hers as her soul looked +into mine became all apparent to me. "Speak on," it said; "sound on, oh +strains of the language of my home! Unheard so long, now heard at last." + +I knew that I was comprehended. Now all the feelings of the melancholy +months came rushing over my heart, and all the holiest ideas which had +animated my life came thronging into my mind, bursting forth into tones, +as though of their own accord, involuntarily, as words come forth in a +dream. + +"Oh thou," I said, in that language which my own lips could not +utter--"oh thou whom I saved from the tomb, the life to which I restored +thee is irksome; but there remains a life to which at last thou shalt +attain. + +"Oh thou," I said, "whose spirit moves among the immortals, I am mortal +yet immortal! My soul seeks commune with them. I yearn after that +communion. Life here on earth is not more dear to me than to thee. Help +me to rise above it. Thou hast been on high, show me too the way. + +"Oh thou," I said, "who hast seen things ineffable, impart to me thy +confidence. Let me know thy secret. Receive me as the companion of thy +soul. Shut not thyself up in solitude. Listen, I can speak thy language. + +"Attend," I cried, "for it is not for nothing that the Divine One +has sent thee back. Live not these mortal days in loneliness and in +uselessness. Regard thy fellow-mortals and seek to bless them. Thou hast +learned the mystery of the highest. Let me be thine interpreter. All +that thou hast learned I will communicate to man. + +"Rise up," I cried, "to happiness and to labor. Behold! I give thee a +purpose in life. Blend thy soul with mine, and let me utter thy thoughts +so that men shall hear and understand. For I know that the highest truth +of highest Heaven means nothing more than love. Gather up all thy love, +let it flow forth to thy fellow-men. This shall be at once the labor and +the consolation of thy life." + +Now all this, and much more--far more--was expressed in the tones that +flowed from my Cremona. It was all in my heart. It came forth. It was +apprehended by her. I saw it, I knew it, and I exulted. Her eyes dilated +more widely--my words were not unworthy of her hearing. I then was able +to tell something which could rouse her from her stupor. Oh, Music! +Divine Music! What power thou hast over the soul! + +There came over her face an expression which I never saw before; one of +peace ineffable--the peace that passeth understanding. Ah me! I seemed +to draw her to myself. For she rose and walked toward me. And a great +calm came over my own soul. My Cremona spoke of peace--soft, sweet, and +deep; the profound peace that dwelleth in the soul which has its hope +in fruition. The tone widened into sweet modulation--sweet beyond all +expression. + +She was so close that she almost touched me. Her eyes were still fixed +on mine. Tears were there, but not tears of sorrow. Her face was so +close to mine that my strength left me. My arms dropped downward. The +music was over. + +[Illustration: "I DID NOT MAKE ANY REPLY, BUT TOOK MY CREMONA, AND +SOUGHT TO LIFT UP ALL MY SOUL TO A LEVEL WITH HERS."] + +She held out her hand to me. I caught it in both of mine, and wet it +with my tears. + +"Paolo," said she, in a voice of musical tone; "Paolo, you are already +one of us. You speak our language. + +"You have taught me something which flows from love--duty. Yes, we +will labor together; and they who live on high will learn even in their +radiant home to envy us poor mortals." + +I said not a word, but knelt; and holding her hand still, I looked up at +her in grateful adoration. + +November 28.--For the last three months I have lived in heaven. She +is changed. Music has reconciled her to exile. She has found one who +speaks, though weakly, the language of that home. + +We hold together through this divine medium a lofty spirited +intercourse. I learn from her of that starry world in which for a brief +time she was permitted to dwell. Her seraphic thoughts have become +communicated to me. I have made them my own, and all my spirit has risen +to a higher altitude. + +So I have at last received that revelation for which I longed, and the +divine thoughts with which she has inspired me I will make known to the +world. How? Description is inadequate, but it is enough to say that I +have decided upon an Opera as the best mode of making known these ideas. + +I have reported to one of those classical themes which, though as old as +civilization, are yet ever new, because they are truth. + +My Opera is on the theme of Prometheus. It refers to Prometheus +Delivered. My idea is derived from her. Prometheus represents Divine +Love--since he is the god who suffers unendurable agonies through his +love for man. Zeus represents the old austere god of the sects and +creeds--the gloomy God of Vengeance--the stern--the inexorable--the +cruel. + +Love endures through the ages, but at last triumphs. The chief agent +in his triumph is Athene. She represents Wisdom, which, by its life and +increase, at last dethrones the God of Vengeance and enthrones the God +of Love. + +For so the world goes on; and thus it shall be that Human Understanding, +which I have personified under Athene, will at last exalt Divine Love +over all, and cast aside its olden adoration of Divine Vengeance. + +I am trying to give to my Opera the severe simplicity of the classical +form, yet at the same time to pervade it all with the warm atmosphere of +love in its widest sense. It opens with a chorus of seraphim. Prometheus +laments; but the chief part is that of Athene. On that I have exhausted +myself. + +But where can I get a voice that can adequately render my +thoughts--_our_ thoughts? Where is Bice? She alone has this voice; she +alone has the power of catching and absorbing into her own mind the +ideas which I form; and with it all, she alone could express them. +I would wander over the earth to find her. But perhaps she is in +a luxurious home, where her associates would not listen to such a +proposal. + +Patience! perhaps Bice may at last bring her marvelous voice to my aid. + +December 15.--Every day our communion has grown more exalted. She +breathes upon me the atmosphere of that radiant world, and fills my soul +with rapture. I live in a sublime enthusiasm. We hold intercourse by +means of music. We stand upon a higher plane than that of common +men. She has raised me there, and has made me to be a partaker in her +thoughts. + +Now I begin to understand something of the radiant world to which she +was once for a brief time borne. I know her lost joys; I share in her +longings. In me, as in her, there is a deep, unquenchable thirst after +those glories that are present there. All here seems poor and mean. No +material pleasure can for a moment allure. + +I live in a frenzy. My soul is on fire. Music is my sole thought and +utterance. Colonel Despard thinks that I am mad. My friends here pity +me. I smile within myself when I think of pity being given by them to +me. Kindly souls! could they but have one faint idea of the unspeakable +joys to which I have attained! + +My Cremona is my voice. It expresses all things for me. Ah, sweet +companion of my soul's flight! my Guide, my Guardian Angel, my Inspirer! +had ever before two mortals while on earth a lot like ours? Who +else besides us in this life ever learned the joys of pure spiritual +communion? We rise on high together. Our souls are borne up in company. +When we hold commune we cease to be mortals. + +My Opera is finished. The radiancy of that Divine Love which has +inundated all the being of Edith has been imparted to me in some measure +sufficient to enable me to breathe forth to human ears tones which have +been caught from immortal voices. She has given me ideas. I have made +them audible and intelligible to men. + +I have had one performance of my work, or rather our work, for it is all +hers. Hers are the thoughts, mine is only the expression. + +I sought out a place of solitude in which I might perform undisturbed +and without interruption the theme which I have tried to unfold. + +Opposite my house is a wild, rocky shore covered with the primeval +woods. Here in one place there rises a barren rock, perfectly bare of +verdure, which is called Mount Misery. I chose his place as the spot +where I might give my rehearsal. + +She was the audience--I was the orchestra--we two were alone. + +Mount Misery is one barren rock without a blade of grass on all its dark +iron-like surface. Around it is a vast accumulation of granite boulders +and vast rocky ledges. The trees are stunted, the very ferns can +scarcely find a place to grow. + +It was night. There was not a cloud in the sky. The moon shone with +marvelous lustre. + +Down in front of us lay the long arm of the sea that ran up between us +and the city. On the opposite side were woods, and beyond them rose the +citadel, on the other side of which the city lay nestling at its base +like those Rhenish towns which lie at the foot of feudal castles. + +On the left hand all was a wilderness; on the right, close by, was a +small lake, which seemed like a sheet of silver in the moon's rays. +Farther on lay the ocean, stretching in its boundless extent away to +the horizon. There lay islands and sand-banks with light-houses. +There, under the moon, lay a broad path of golden light--molten +gold--unruffled--undisturbed in that dead calm. + +My Opera begins with an Alleluia Chorus. I have borrowed words from the +Angel Song at the opening of "Faust" for my score. But the music has an +expression of its own, and the words are feeble; and the only comfort +is, that these words will be lost in the triumph strain of the tones +that accompany them. + +She was with me, exulting where I was exultant, sad where I was +sorrowful; still with her air of Guide and Teacher. She is my Egeria. +She is my Inspiring Muse. I invoke her when I sing. + +But my song carried her away. Her own thoughts expressed by my utterance +were returned to her, and she yielded herself up altogether to their +power. + +Ah me! there is one language common to all on earth, and to all in +heaven, and that is music. + +I exulted then on that bare, blasted rock. I triumphed. She joined me in +it all. We exulted together. We triumphed. We mourned, we rejoiced, we +despaired, we hoped, we sung alleluias in our hearts. The very winds +were still. The very moon seemed to stay her course. All nature was +hushed. + +She stood before me, white, slender, aerial, like a spirit from on high, +as pure, as holy, as stainless. Her soul and mine were blended. We moved +to one common impulse. We obeyed one common motive. + +What is this? Is it love? Yes; but not as men call love. Ours is +heavenly love, ardent, but yet spiritual; intense, but without passion; +a burning love like that of the cherubim; all-consuming, all-engrossing, +and enduring for evermore. + +Have I ever told her my admiration? Yes; but not in words. I have told +her so in music, in every tone, in every strain. She knows that I am +hers. She is my divinity, my muse, my better genius--the nobler half of +my soul. + +I have laid all my spirit at her feet, as one prostrates himself before +a divinity. She has accepted that adoration and has been pleased. + +We are blended. We are one, but not after an earthly fashion, for never +yet have I even touched her hand in love. It is our spirits, our real +selves--not our merely visible selves--that love; yet that love is so +intense that I would die for evermore if my death could make her life +more sweet. + +She has heard all this from my Cremona. + +Here, as we stood under the moon, I thought her a spirit with a mortal +lover. I recognized the full meaning of the sublime legend of Numa and +Egeria. The mortal aspires in purity of heart, and the immortal comes +down and assists and responds to his aspirations. + +Our souls vibrated in unison to the expression of heavenly thoughts. We +threw ourselves into the rapture of the hour. We trembled, we thrilled, +till at last frail mortal nature could scarcely endure the intensity of +that perfect joy. + +So we came to the end. The end is a chorus of angels. They sing the +divinest of songs that is written in Holy Revelation. All the glory of +that song reaches its climax in the last strain: + +"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes!" + +We wept together. But we dried our tears and went home, musing on that +"tearless eternity" which lies before us. + +Morning is dawning as I write, and all the feeling of my soul can be +expressed in one word, the sublimest of all words, which is intelligible +to many of different languages and different races. I will end with +this: + +"Alleluia!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +THIS MUST END. + +The note which accompanied Langhetti's journal was as follows: + +"HALIFAX, December 18, 1848. + +"TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,--I send you my journal, _sorella carissima_. +I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been sad and in +affliction. But affliction has turned to joy, and I have learned things +unknown before. + +"_Teresina mia_, I am coming back to England immediately. You may expect +to see me at any time during the next three months. _She_ will be with +me; but so sensitive is she--so strange would she be to you--that I do +not know whether it will be well for you to see her or not. I dare not +let her be exposed to the gaze of any one unknown to her. Yet, sweetest +_sorellina_, perhaps I may be able to tell her that I have a dearest +sister, whose heart is love, whose nature is noble, and who could treat +her with tenderest care. + +"I intend to offer my Opera to the world at London. I will be my own +impresario. Yet I want one thing, and that is a Voice. Oh for a Voice +like that of Bice! But it is idle to wish for her. + +"Never have I heard any voice like hers, my Teresina. God grant that I +may find her! + +"Expect soon and suddenly to see your most loving brother, + +"PAOLO." + +Mrs. Thornton showed this note to Despard the next time they met. He had +read the journal in the mean time. + +"So he is coming back?" said he. + +"Yes." + +"And with this marvelous girl?" + +"Yes." + +"She seems to me like a spirit." + +"And to me." + +"Paolo's own nature is so lofty and so spiritual that one like her is +intelligible to him. Happy is it for her that he found her." + +"Paolo is more spiritual than human. He has no materialism. He is +spiritual. I am of the earth, earthy; but my brother is a spirit +imprisoned, who chafes at his bonds and longs to be free. And think what +Paolo has done for her in his sublime devotion!" + +"I know others who would do as much," said Despard, in a voice that +seemed full of tears; "I know others who, like him, would go to the +grave to rescue the one they loved, and make all life one long devotion. +I know others," he continued, "who would gladly die, if by dying they +could gain what he has won--the possession of the one they love. Ah me! +Paolo is happy and blessed beyond all men. Between him and her there is +no insuperable barrier, no gulf as deep as death." + +Despard spoke impetuously, but suddenly checked himself. + +"I received," said he, "by the last mail a letter from my uncle in +Halifax. He is ordered off to the Cape of Good Hope. I wrote him a very +long time ago, as I told you, asking him to tell me without reserve all +that he knew about my father's death. I told him plainly that there was +a mystery about it which I was determined to solve. I reproached him for +keeping it secret from me, and reminded him that I was now a mature man; +and that he had no right nor any reason to maintain any farther secrecy. +I insisted on knowing all, no matter what it might be. + +"I received his letter by the last mail. Here it is;" and he handed it +to her. "Read it when you get home. I have written a few words to you, +little playmate, also. He has told me all. Did you know this before?" + +"Yes, Lama," said Mrs. Thornton, with a look of sorrowful sympathy. + +"You knew all my father's fate?" + +"Yes, Lama." + +"And you kept it secret?" + +"Yes, Lama. How could I bear to tell you and give you pain?" + +Her voice trembled as she spoke. Despard looked at her with an +indescribable expression. + +"One thought," said he, slowly, "and one feeling engrosses all my +nature, and even this news that I have heard can not drive it away. +Even the thought of my father's fate, so dark and so mysterious, can +not weaken the thoughts that have all my life been supreme. Do you know, +little playmate, what those thoughts are?" + +She was silent. Despard's hand wandered over the keys. They always spoke +in low tones, which were almost whispers, tones which were inaudible +except to each other. And Mrs. Thornton had to bow her head close to his +to hear what he said. + +"I must go," said Despard, after a pause, "and visit Brandon again. I +do not know what I can do, but my father's death requires further +examination. This man Potts is intermingled with it. My uncle gives dark +hints. I must make an examination." + +"And you are going away again?" said Mrs. Thornton, sadly. + +Despard sighed. + +"Would it not be better," said he, as he took her hand in his--"would +it not be better for you, little playmate, if I went away from you +forever?" + +She gave him one long look of sad reproach. Then tears filled her eyes. + +"This can not go on forever," she murmured. "It must come to that at +last!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +BEATRICE'S JOURNAL. + +October 30, 1848.--My recovery has been slow, and I am still far from +well. I stay in my room almost altogether. Why should I do otherwise? +Day succeeds day, and each day is a blank. + +My window looks on the sea, and I can sit there and feed my heart on the +memories which that sea calls up. It is company for me in my solitude. +It is music, though I can not hear its voice. Oh, how I should rejoice +if I could get down by its margin and touch its waters! Oh how I should +rejoice if those waters would flow over me forever! + +November 15.--Why I should write any thing now I do not know. This +uneventful life offers nothing to record. Mrs. Compton is as timid, as +gentle, and as affectionate as ever. Philips, poor, timorous, kindly +soul, sends me flowers by her. Poor wretch, how did he ever get here? +How did Mrs. Compton? + +December 28.--In spite of my quiet habits and constant seclusion I +feel that I am under some surveillance, not from Mrs. Compton, but from +others. I have been out twice during the last fortnight and perceived +this plainly. Men in the walks who were at work quietly followed me +with their eyes. I see that I am watched. I did not know that I was of +sufficient importance. + +Yesterday a strange incident occurred. Mrs. Compton was with me, and by +some means or other my thoughts turned to one about whom I have often +tried to form conjectures--my mother. How could she ever have married a +man like my father? What could she have been like? Suddenly I turned to +Mrs. Compton, and said: + +"Did you ever see my mother?" + +What there could have been in my question I can not tell, but she +trembled and looked at me with greater fear in her face than I had ever +seen there before. This time she seemed to be afraid of me. I myself +felt a cold chill run through my frame. That awful thought which I had +once before known flashed across my mind. + +"Oh!" cried Mrs. Compton, suddenly, "oh, don't look at me so; don't look +at me so!" + +"I don't understand you," said I, slowly. + +She hid her face in her hands and began to weep. I tried to soothe her, +and with some success, for after a time she regained her composure. +Nothing more was said. But since then one thought, with a long series of +attendant thoughts, has weighed down my mind. _Who am I? What am I? What +am I doing here? What do these people want with me? Why do they guard +me?_ + +I can write no more. + +January 14, 1849.--The days drag on. Nothing new has happened. I am +tormented by strange thoughts. I see this plainly that there are times +when I inspire fear in this house. Why is this? + +Since that day, many, many months ago, when they all looked at me in +horror, I have seen none of them. Now Mrs. Compton has exhibited the +same fear. There is a restraint over her. Yes, she too fears me. Yet she +is kind; and poor Philips never forgets to send me flowers. + +I could smile at the idea of any one fearing me, if it were not for the +terrible thoughts that arise within my mind. + +February 12.--Of late all my thoughts have changed, and I have been +inspired with an uncontrollable desire to escape. I live here in luxury, +but the meanest house outside would be far preferable. Every hour here +is a sorrow, every day a misery. Oh, me! if I could but escape! + +Once in that outer world I care not what might happen. I would be +willing to do menial labor to earn my bread. Yet it need not come to +that. The lessons which Paolo taught me have been useful in more ways +than one. I know that I at least need not be dependent. + +He used to say to me that if I chose to go on the stage and sing, I +could do something better than gain a living or make a fortune. He said +I could interpret the ideas of the Great Masters, and make myself a +blessing to the world. + +Why need I stay here when I have a voice which he used to deign to +praise? He did not praise it because he loved me; but I think he loved +me because he loved my voice. He loves my voice better than me. And +that other one! Ah me--will he ever hear my voice again? Did he know how +sweet his voice was to me? Oh me! its tones ring in my ears and in my +heart night and day. + +March 5.--My resolution is formed. This may be my last entry. I pray to +God that it may be. I will trust in him and fly. At night they can not +be watching me. There is a door at the north end, the key of which is +always in it. I can steal out by that direction and gain my liberty. + +Oh Thou who hearest prayer, grant deliverance to the captive! + +Farewell now, my journal; I hope never to see you again! Yet I will +secrete you in this chamber, for if I am compelled to return I may be +glad to seek you again. + +March 6.--Not yet! Not yet! + +Alas! and since yesterday what things have happened! Last night I was to +make my attempt. They dined at eight, and I waited for them to retire. I +waited long. They were longer than usual. + +[Illustration: "OH!" CRIED MRS. COMPTON SUDDENLY, "OH, DON'T LOOK AT ME +SO; DON'T LOOK AT ME SO!"] + +At about ten o'clock Mrs. Compton came into my room, with as frightened +a face as usual. "They want you," said she. + +I knew whom she meant. "Must I go?" said I. + +"Alas, dear child, what can you do? Trust in God. He can save you." + +"He alone can save me," said I, "if He will. It has come to this that I +have none but Him in whom I can trust." + +She began to weep. I said no more, but obeyed the command and went down. + +Since I was last there months had passed--months of suffering and +anguish in body and mind. The remembrance of my last visit there came +over me as I entered. Yet I did not tremble or falter. I crossed the +threshold and entered the room, and stood before them in silence. + +I saw the three men who had been there before. _He_ and his son, and the +man Clark, They had all been drinking. Their voices were loud and their +laughter boisterous as I approached. When I entered they became quiet, +and all three stared at me. At last _he_ said to his son, + +"She don't look any fatter, does she, Johnnie?" + +"She gets enough to eat, any how," answered John. + +"She's one of them kind," said the man Clark, "that don't fatten up. But +then, Johnnie, you needn't talk--you haven't much fat yourself, lad." + +"Hard work," said John, whereupon the others, thinking it an excellent +joke, burst into hoarse laughter. This put them into great good-humor +with themselves, and they began to turn their attention to me again. Not +a word was said for some time. + +"Can you dance?" said he, at last, speaking to me abruptly. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Ah! I thought so. I paid enough for your education, any how. It would +be hard if you hadn't learned any thing else except squalling and +banging on the piano." + +I said nothing. + +"Why do you stare so, d--n you?" he cried, looking savagely at me. + +I looked at the floor. + +"Come now," said he. "I sent for you to see if you can dance. Dance!" + +I stood still. "Dance!" he repeated with an oath. "Do you hear?" + +"I can not," said I. + +"Perhaps you want a partner," continued he, with a sneer. "Here, +Johnnie, go and help her." + +"I'd rather not," said John. + +"Clark, you try it--you were always gay," and he gave a hoarse laugh. + +"Yes, Clark," cried John. "Now's your chance." + +Clark hesitated for a moment, and then came toward me. I stood with my +arms folded, and looked at him fixedly. I was not afraid. For I thought +in that hour of who these men were, and what they were. My life was in +their hands, but I held life cheap. I rose above the fear of the moment, +and felt myself their superior. + +Clark came up to me and stopped. I did not move. + +"Curse her!" said he. "I'd as soon dance with a ghost. She looks like +one, any how." + +_He_ laughed boisterously. + +"He's afraid. He's getting superstitious!" he cried. "What do you think +of that, Johnnie?" + +"Well," drawled John, "it's the first time I ever heard of Clark being +afraid of any thing." + +These words seemed to sting Clark to the quick. + +"Will you dance?" said he, in a hoarse voice. + +I made no answer. + +"Curse her! make her dance!" _he_ shouted, starting up from his chair. +"Don't let her bully you, you fool!" + +Clark stepped toward me and laid one heavy hand on mine, while he +attempted to pass the other round my waist. At the horror of his +polluting touch all my nature seemed transformed. I started back. There +came something like a frenzy over me. I neither knew nor cared what I +said. + +Yet I spoke slowly, and it was not like passion. All that I had read in +that manuscript was in my heart, the very spirit of the murdered Despard +seemed to inspire me. + +"Touch me not," I said. "Trouble me not. I am near enough to Death +already. And you," I cried, stretching out my hand to him, "THUG! never +again will I obey one command of yours. Kill me if you choose, and send +me after Colonel Despard." + +These words seemed to blast and wither them. Clark shrank back. _He_ +gave a groan, and clutched the arm of his chair. John looked in fear +from one to the other, and stammered with an oath: + +"She knows all! Mrs. Compton told her." + +"Mrs. Compton never knew it, about the Thug," said he, and then looked +up fearfully at me. They all looked once more. Again that fear which I +had seen in them before was shown upon their faces. + +I looked upon these wretches as though I had surveyed them from some +lofty height. That one of them was my father was forgotten. I seemed to +utter words which were inspired within me. + +"Colonel Despard has spoken to me from the dead, and told me all," said +I. "I am appointed to avenge him." + +I turned and went out of the room. As I left I heard John's voice: + +"If she's the devil himself, as I believe she is," he cried, "_she's got +to be took down!_" + +I reached my room. I lay awake all night long. A fever seemed raging +in all my veins. Now with a throbbing head and trembling hands I write +this. Will these be my last words? God grant it, and give me safe +deliverance. Amen! amen! + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +SMITHERS & CO. + +The Brandon Bank, John Potts, President, had one day risen suddenly +before the eyes of the astonished county and filled all men with curious +speculations. + +John Potts had been detestable, but now, as a Bank President, he began +to be respectable, to say the least. Wealth has a charm about it which +fascinates all men, even those of the oldest families, and now that this +parvenu showed that he could easily employ his superfluous cash in a +banking company, people began to look upon his name as still undoubtedly +vulgar, yet as undoubtedly possessing the ring of gold. + +His first effort to take the county by storm, by an ordinary invitation +to Brandon Hall, had been sneered at every where. But this bank was +a different thing. Many began to think that perhaps Potts had been an +ill-used and slandered man. He had been Brandon's agent, but who could +prove any thing against him after all? + +There were very many who soon felt the need of the peculiar help which +a bank can give if it only chooses. Those who went there found Potts +marvelously accommodating. He did not seem so grasping or so suspicious +as other bankers. They got what they wanted, laughed at his pleasant +jokes, and assured every body that he was a much-belied man. + +Surely it was by some special inspiration that Potts hit upon this idea +of a bank; if he wished to make people look kindly upon him, to "be to +his faults a little blind, and to his virtues very kind," he could not +have conceived any better or shorter way toward the accomplishment of so +desirable a result. + +So lenient were these people that they looked upon all those who took +part in the bank with equal indulgence. The younger Potts was considered +as a very clever man, with a dry, caustic humor, but thoroughly +good-hearted. Clark, one of the directors, was regarded as bluff, +and shrewd, and cautious, but full of the milk of human kindness; and +Philips, the cashier, was universally liked on account of his gentle, +obsequious manner. + +So wide-spread and so active were the operations of this bank that +people stood astonished and had nothing to say. The amount of their +accommodations was enormous. Those who at first considered it a +mushroom concern soon discovered their mistake; for the Brandon Bank +had connections in London which seemed to give the command of unlimited +means, and any sum whatever that might be needed was at once advanced +where the security was at all reliable. Nor was the bank particular +about security. John Potts professed to trust much to people's faces and +to their character, and there were times when he would take the security +without looking at it, or even decline it and be satisfied with the +name. + +In less than a year the bank had succeeded in gaining the fullest +confidence even of those who had at first been most skeptical, and +John Potts had grown to be considered without doubt one of the most +considerable men in the county. + +One day in March John Potts was sitting in the parlor of the bank when a +gentleman walked in who seemed to be about sixty years of age. He had a +slight stoop, and carried a gold-headed cane. He was dressed in black, +had gray hair, and a very heavy gray beard and mustache. + +"Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Potts?" said the stranger, in a +peculiarly high, shrill voice. + +"I'm Mr. Potts," said the other. + +The stranger thereupon drew a letter from his pocket-book and handed it +to Potts. The letter was a short one, and the moment Potts had read it +he sprang up and held out his hand eagerly. + +"Mr. Smithers, Sir!--you're welcome, Sir, I'm sure, Sir! Proud and +happy, Sir, to see you, I'm sure!" said Potts, with great volubility. + +Mr. Smithers, however, did not seem to see his hand, but seated himself +leisurely on a chair, and looked for a moment at the opposite wall like +one in thought. + +He was a singular-looking old man. His skin was fresh; there was a +grand, stern air upon his brow when it was in repose. The lower part of +his face was hidden by his beard, and its expression was therefore lost. +His eyes, however, were singularly large and luminous, although he wore +spectacles and generally looked at the floor. + +"I have but recently returned from a tour," said he, in the same voice; +"and my junior partner has managed all the business in my absence, which +has lasted more than a year. I had not the honor of being acquainted +with your banking-house when I left, and as I had business up this way I +thought I would call on you." + +"Proud, Sir, and most happy to welcome you to our modest parlor," said +Potts, obsequiously. "This is a pleasure--indeed I may say, Sir, a +privilege--which I have long wished to have. In fact, I have never seen +your junior partner, Sir, any more than yourself. I have only seen your +agents, Sir, and have gone on and done my large business with you by +writing." + +Mr. Smithers bowed. + +"Quite so," said he. "We have so many connections in all parts of +the world that it is impossible to have the pleasure of a personal +acquaintance with them all. There are some with whom we have much larger +transactions than yourself whom I have never seen." + +"Indeed, Sir!" exclaimed Potts, with great surprise. "Then you must do a +larger business than I thought." + +"We do a large business," said Mr. Smithers, thoughtfully. + +"And all over the world, you said. Then you must be worth millions." + +"Oh, of course, one can not do a business like ours, that commands +money, without a large capital." + +"Are there many who do a larger business than I do?" + +"Oh yes. In New York the house of Peyton Brothers do a business of ten +times the amount--yes, twenty times. In San Francisco a new house, just +started since the gold discoveries, has done a business with us +almost as large. In Bombay Messrs. Nickerson, Bolton, & Co. are our +correspondents; in Calcutta Messrs. Hostermann, Jennings, & Black; +in Hong Kong Messrs. Naylor & Tibbetts; in Sydney Messrs. Sandford & +Perley. Besides these, we have correspondents through Europe and in all +parts of England who do a much larger business than yours. But I thought +you were aware of this," said Mr. Smithers, looking with a swift glance +at Potts. + +"Of course, of course," said Potts, hastily: "I knew your business was +enormous, but I thought our dealings with you were considerable." + +"Oh, you are doing a snug business," said Smithers, in a patronizing +tone. "It is our custom whenever we have correspondents who are sound +men to encourage them to the utmost. This is the reason why you have +always found us liberal and prompt." + +"You have done great service, Sir," said Potts. "In fact, you have made +the Brandon Bank what it is to-day." + +"Well," said Smithers, "we have agents every where; we heard that this +bank was talked about, and knowing the concern to be in sure hands we +took it up. My Junior has made arrangements with you which he says have +been satisfactory." + +"Very much so to me," replied Potts. "You have always found the money." + +"And you, I suppose, have furnished the securities." + +"Yes, and a precious good lot of them you are now holding." + +"I dare say," said Smithers: "for my part I have nothing to do with the +books. I merely attend to the general affairs, and trust to my Junior +for particulars." + +"And you don't know the exact state of our business?" said Potts, in a +tone of disappointment. + +"No. How should I? The only ones with which I am familiar are our +American, European, and Eastern agencies. Our English correspondents are +managed by my Junior." + +"You must be one of the largest houses in London," said Potts, in a tone +of deep admiration. + +"Oh yes." + +"Strange I never heard of you till two years or so." + +"Very likely." + +"There was a friend of mine who was telling me something about some +Sydney merchants who were sending consignments of wool to you. Compton & +Brandon. Do you know them?" + +"I have heard my Junior speak of them." + +"You were in Sydney, were you not?" + +"Yes, on my last tour I touched there." + +"Do you know Compton & Brandon?" + +"I looked in to see them. I think Brandon is dead, isn't he? Drowned at +sea--or something of that sort?" said Smithers, indifferently. + +"Yes," said Potts. + +"Are you familiar with the banking business?" asked Smithers, suddenly. + +"Well, no, not very. I haven't had much experience; but I'm growing into +it." + +"Ah! I suppose your directors are good business men?" + +"Somewhat; but the fact is, I trust a good deal to my cashier." + +"Who is he?" + +"His name is Philips, a very clever man; a first-rate accountant." + +"That's right. Very much indeed depends on the cashier." + +"He is a most useful and reliable man." + +"Your business appears to be growing, from what I have heard." + +"Very fast indeed, Sir. Why, Sir, in another year I expect to control +this whole county financially. There is no reason why I shouldn't. Every +one of my moves is successful." + +"That is right. The true mode of success in a business like yours is +boldness. That is the secret of my success. Perhaps you are not aware," +continued Mr. Smithers, in a confidential tone, "that I began with very +little. A few thousands of pounds formed my capital. But my motto was +boldness, and now I am worth I will not say how many millions. If you +want to make money fast you must be bold." + +"Did you make your money by banking?" asked Potts, eagerly. + +"No. Much of it was made in that way, but I have embarked in all kinds +of enterprises; foreign loans, railway scrip, and ventures in stock of +all sorts. I have lost millions, but I have made ten times more than +ever I lost. If you want to make money, you must go on the same plan." + +"Well, I'm sure," said Potts, "I'm bold enough. I'm enlarging my +business every day in all directions." + +"That's right." + +"I control the county now, and hope in another year to do so in a +different way." + +"How so?" + +"I'm thinking of setting up for Parliament--" + +"An excellent idea, if it will not injure the business." + +"Oh, it will not hurt it at all. Philips can manage it all under my +directions. Besides, I don't mind telling a friend like you that this is +the dream of my life." + +"A very laudable aim, no doubt, to those who have a genius for +statesmanship. But that is a thing which is altogether out of my line. +I keep to business. And now, as my time is limited, I must not stay +longer. I will only add that my impressions are favorable about your +bank, and you may rely upon us to any extent to co-operate with you in +any sound enterprise. Go on and enlarge your business, and draw on +us for what you want as before. If I were you I would embark all my +available means in this bank." + +"Well, I'm gradually coming to that, I think," said Potts. + +"Then, when you get large deposits, as you must expect, that will give +you additional capital to work on. The best way when you have a bank is +to use your cash in speculating in stocks. Have you tried that yet?" + +"Yes, but not much." + +"If you wish any thing of that kind done we will do it for you." + +"But I don't know what are the best investments." + +"Oh, that is very easily found out. But if you can't learn, we will let +you know. The Mexican Loan just now is the most promising. Some of +the California companies are working quietly, and getting enormous +dividends." + +"California?" said Potts; "that ought to pay." + +"Oh, there's nothing like it. I cleared nearly half a million in a few +months." + +"A few months!" cried Potts, opening his eyes. + +"Yes, we have agents who keep us well up; and so, you know, we are able +to speculate to the best advantage." + +"California!" said Potts, thoughtfully. "I should like to try that above +all things. It has a good sound. It is like the chink of cash." + +"Yes, you get the pure gold out of that. There's nothing like it." + +"Do you know any chances for speculation there?" + +"Yes, one or two." + +"Would you have any objection to let me know?" + +"Not in the least--it will extend your business. I will ask my Junior to +send you any particulars you may desire." + +"This California business must be the best there is, if all I hear is +true." + +"You haven't heard the real truth." + +"Haven't I?" exclaimed Potts, in wonder. "I thought it was exaggerated." + +"I could tell you stories far more wonderful than any thing you have +heard." + +"Tell me!" cried Potts, breathlessly. + +"Well," said Smithers, confidentially, "I don't mind telling you +something which is known, I'm sorry to say, in certain circles in +London, and is already being acted on. One-half of our fortune has been +made in California operations." + +"You don't say so!" + +"You see I've always been bold," continued Smithers, with an air of +still greater confidence. "I read some time since in one of Humboldt's +books about gold being there. At the first news of the discovery I +chartered a ship and went out at once. I took every thing that could be +needed. On arriving at San Francisco, where there were already very many +people, I sold the cargo at an enormous profit, and hired the ship as a +warehouse at enormous prices. I then organized a mining company, and put +a first-rate man at the head of it. They found a place on the Sacramento +River where the gold really seems inexhaustible. I worked it for some +months, and forwarded two millions sterling to London. Then I left, and +my company is still working." + +"Why did you leave?" asked Potts, breathlessly. + +"Because I could make more money by being in London. My man there is +reliable. I have bound him to us by giving him a share in the business. +People soon found out that Smithers & Co. had made enormous sums of +money in California, but they don't know exactly how. The immense +expansion of our business during the last year has filled them with +wonder. For you know every piece of gold that I sent home has been +utilized by my Junior." + +Potts was silent, and sat looking in breathless admiration at this +millionaire. All his thoughts were seen in his face. His whole heart was +laid bare, and the one thing visible was an intense desire to share in +that golden enterprise. + +"I have organized two companies on the same principle as the last. The +shares are selling at a large premium in the London market. I take a +leading part in each, and my name gives stability to the enterprise. If +I find the thing likely to succeed I continue; if not, why, I can easily +sell out. I am on the point of organizing a third company." + +"Are the shares taken up?" cried Potts, eagerly. + +"No, not yet." + +"Well, could I obtain some?" + +"I really can't say," replied Smithers. "You might make an application +to my Junior. I do nothing whatever with the details. I don't know what +plans or agreements he may have been making." + +"I should like exceedingly to take stock. How do the shares sell?" + +"The price is high, as we wish to confine our shareholders to the richer +classes. We never put it at less than L1000 a share." + +"I would take any quantity." + +"I dare say some may be in the market yet," said Smithers, calmly. "They +probably sell at a high premium though." + +"I'd pay it," said Potts. + +"Well, you may write and see; I know nothing about it." + +"And if they're all taken up, what then?" + +"Oh--then--I really don't know. Why can't you organize a company +yourself?" + +"Well, you see, I don't know anything about the place." + +"True; that is a disadvantage. But you might find some people who do +know." + +"That would be very difficult. I do not see how we could begin. And if I +did find any one, how could I trust him?" + +"You'd have to do as I did--give him a share of the business." + +"It would be much better if I could get some stock in one of your +companies. Your experience and credit would make it a success." + +"Yes, there is no doubt that our companies would all be successful since +we have a man on the spot." + +"And that's another reason why I should prefer buying stock from you. +You see I might form a company, but what could I do?" + +"Could not your cashier help you?" + +"No, not in any thing of that sort." + +"Well, I can say nothing about it. My Junior will tell you what chances +there are." + +"But while I see you personally I should be glad if you would consent to +give me a chance. Have you any objection?" + +"Oh no. I will mention your case the next time I write, if you wish +it. Still I can not control the particular operations of the office. +My control is supreme in general matters, and you see it would not be +possible for me to interfere with the smaller details." + +"Still you might mention me." + +"I will do so," said Smithers, and taking out his pocket-book he +prepared to write. + +"Let me see," said he, "your Christian name is--what?" + +"John--John Potts." + +"John Potts," repeated the other, as he wrote it down. + +Smithers rose. "You may continue to draw on us as before, and any +purchases of stock which you wish will be made." + +Potts thanked him profusely. "I wish to see your cashier, to learn +his mode of managing the accounts. Much depends on that, and a short +conversation will satisfy me." + +"Certainly, Sir, certainly," said Potts, obsequiously. "Philips!" he +called. + +Philips came in as timid and as shrinking as usual. + +"This is Mr. Smithers, the great Smithers of Smithers & Co., Bankers; he +wishes to have a talk with you." + +Philips looked at the great man with deep respect and made an awkward +bow. + +"You may come with me to my hotel," said Smithers; and with a slight bow +to Potts he left the bank, followed by Philips. + +He went up stairs and into a large parlor on the second story, which +looked into the street. He motioned Philips to a chair near the window, +and seated himself in an arm-chair opposite. + +Smithers looked at the other with a searching glance, and said nothing +for some time. His large, full eyes, as they fixed themselves on the +face of the other, seemed to read his inmost thoughts and study every +part of his weak and irresolute character. + +At length he said, abruptly, in a slow, measured voice, "Edgar Lawton!" + +At the sound of this name Philips started from his chair, and stood on +his feet trembling. His face, always pale, now became ashen, his lips +turned white, his jaw fell, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets. +He stood for a few seconds, then sank back into a chair. + +Smithers eyed him steadfastly. "You see I know you," said he, after a +time. + +Philips cast on him an imploring look. + +"The fact that I know your name," continued Smithers, "shows also that I +must know something of your history. Do not forget that!" + +"My--my history?" faltered Philips. + +"Yes, your history. I know it all, wretched man! I knew your father whom +you ruined, and whose heart you broke." + +Philips said not a word, but again turned an imploring face to this man. + +"I have brought you here to let you know that there is one who holds you +in his power, and that one is myself. You think Potts or Clark have you +at their mercy. Not so. I alone hold your fate in my hands. They dare +not do any thing against you for fear of their own necks." + +[Illustration: "AT THE SOUND OF THIS NAME PHILIPS STARTED FROM HIS +CHAIR, AND STOOD ON HIS FEET TREMBLING."] + +Philips looked up now in wonder, which was greater than his fear. + +"Why," he faltered, "you are Potts's friend. You got him to start the +bank, and you have advanced him money." + +"You are the cashier," said Smithers, calmly. "Can you tell me how much +the Brandon Bank owes Smithers & Co?" + +Philips looked at the other and hesitated. + +"Speak!" + +"Two hundred and eighty-nine thousand pounds." + +"And if Smithers & Co. chose to demand payment to-morrow, do you think +the Brandon Bank would be prompt about it?" + +Philips shook his head. + +"Then you see that the man whom you fear is not so powerful as some +others." + +"I thought you were his friend?" + +"Do you know who I am?" + +"Smithers & Co.," said Philips, wearily. + +"Well, let me tell you the plans of Smithers & Co. are beyond your +comprehension. Whether they are friends to Potts or not, it seems that +they are his creditors to an amount which it would be difficult for him +to pay if they chose to demand it." + +Philips looked up. He caught sight of the eyes of Smithers, which blazed +like two dark, fiery orbs as they were fastened upon him. He shuddered. + +"I merely wished to show you the weakness of the man whom you fear. +Shall I tell you something else?" + +Philips looked up fearfully. + +"I have been in York, in Calcutta, and in Manilla: and I know what Potts +did in each place. You look frightened. You have every reason to be so. +I know what was done at York. I know that you were sent to Botany Bay. +I know that you ran away from your father to India. I know your life +there. I know how narrowly you escaped going on board the _Vishnu_, and +being implicated in the Manilla murder. Madman that you were, why did +you not take your poor mother and fly from these wretches forever?" + +Philips trembled from head to foot. He said not a word, but bowed his +head upon his knees and wept. + +"Where is she now?" said Smithers, sternly. Philips mechanically raised +his head, and pointed over toward Brandon Hall. + +"Is she confined against her will?" + +Philips shook his head. + +"She stays, then, through love of you?" + +Philips nodded. + +"Is any one else there?" said Smithers, after a pause, and in a strange, +sad voice, in which there was a faltering tone which Philips, in his +fright, did not notice. + +"Miss Potts," he said. + +"She is treated cruelly," said Smithers. "They say she is a prisoner?" + +Philips nodded. + +"Has she been sick?" + +"Yes." + +"How long?" + +"Eight months, last year." + +"Is she well now?" + +"Yes." + +Smithers bowed his head in silence, and put his hand on his heart. +Philips watched him in an agony of fright, as though every instant he +was apprehensive of some terrible calamity. + +"How is she?" continued Smithers, after a time. "Has she ever been happy +since she went there?" + +Philips shook his head slowly and mournfully. + +"Does her father ever show her any affection?" + +"Never." + +"Does her brother?" + +"Never." + +"Is there any one who does?" + +"Yes." + +"Who?" + +"Mrs. Compton." + +"Your mother?" + +"Yes." + +"I will not forget that. No, I will never forget that. Do you think that +she is exposed to any danger?" + +"Miss Potts?" + +Smithers bowed. + +"I don't know. I sometimes fear so." + +"Of what kind?" + +"I don't know. Almost any horrible thing may happen in that horrible +place." + +A pang of agony shot across the sombre brow of Smithers. He was silent +for a long time. + +"Have you ever slighted her?" he asked at last. + +"Never," cried Philips. "I could worship her--" + +Smithers smiled upon him with a smile so sweet that it chased all +Philips's fears away. He took courage and began to show more calm. "Fear +nothing," said Smithers, in a gentle voice. "I see that in spite of your +follies and crimes there is something good in you yet. You love your +mother, do you not?" + +Tears came into Philips's eyes. He sighed. "Yes," he said, humbly. + +"And you are kind to _her_--that other one?" + +"I love her as my mother," said Philips, earnestly. + +Smithers again relapsed into silence for a long time. At last he looked +up. Philips saw his eyes this time, no longer stern and wrathful, but +benignant and indulgent. + +"You have been all your life under the power of merciless men," said he. +"You have been led by them into folly and crime and suffering. Often you +have been forced to act against your will. Poor wretch! I can save you, +and I intend to do so in spite of yourself. You fear these masters of +yours. You must know now that I, not they, am to be feared. They know +your secret but dare not use it against you. I know it, and can use it +if I choose. You have been afraid of them all your life. Fear them no +longer, but fear me. These men whom you fear are in my power as well +as you are. I know all their secrets--there is not a crime of theirs of +which you know that I do not know also, and I know far more. + +"You must from this time forth be my agent. Smithers & Co. have agents +in all parts of the world. You shall be their agent in Brandon Hall. +You shall say nothing of this interview to any one, not even to your +mother--you shall not dare to communicate with me unless you are +requested, except about such things as I shall specify. If you dare to +shrink in any one point from your duty, at that instant I will come down +upon you with a heavy hand. You, too, are watched. I have other agents +here in Brandon besides yourself. Many of those who go to the bank as +customers are my agents. You can not be false without my knowing it; +and when you are false, that moment you shall be handed over to the +authorities. Do you hear?" + +The face of Smithers was mild, but his tone was stern. It was the +warning of a just yet merciful master. All the timid nature of Philips +bent in deep subjection before the powerful spirit of this man. He bowed +his head in silence. + +"Whenever an order comes to you from Smithers & Co. you must obey: if +you do not obey instantly whatever it is, it will be at the risk of your +life. Do you hear?" + +Philips bowed. + +"There is only one thing now in which I wish you to do anything. You +must send every month a notice directed to Mr. Smithers, Senior, about +the health of _his daughter_. Should any sudden danger impend you must +at once communicate it. You understand?" + +Philips bowed. + +"Once more I must warn you always to remember that I am your master. +Fail in one single thing, and you perish. Obey me, and you shall be +rewarded. Now go!" + +Philips rose, and, more dead than alive, tottered from the room. + +When he left Smithers locked the door. He then went to the window +and stood looking at Brandon Hall, with his stern face softened into +sadness. He hummed low words as he stood there--words which once had +been sung far away. + +Among them were these, with which the strain ended: + + "And the sad memory of our life below + Shall but unite us closer evermore; + No net of thine shall loose + Thee from the eternal bond, + Nor shall Revenge have power + To disunite us _there_!" + +With a sigh he sat down and buried his face in his hands. His gray hair +loosened and fell off as he sat there. At last he raised his head, and +revealed the face of a young man whose dark hair showed the gray beard +to be false. + +Yet when he once more put on his wig none but a most intimate friend +with the closest scrutiny could recognize there the features of Louis +Brandon. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +PAOLO LANGHETTI. + +Many weeks passed on, and music still formed the chief occupation in +life for Despard and Mrs. Thornton. His journey to Brandon village had +been without result. He knew not what to do. The inquiries which he made +every where turned out useless. Finally Thornton informed him that it +was utterly hopeless, at a period so long after the event, to attempt to +do any thing whatever. Enough had been done long ago. Now nothing more +could possibly be effected. + +Baffled, but not daunted, Despard fell back for the present from his +purpose, yet still cherished it and wrote to different quarters for +information. Meantime he had to return to his life at Holby, and Mrs. +Thornton was still ready to assist him. + +So the time went on, and the weeks passed, till one day in March Despard +went up as usual. + +On entering the parlor he heard voices, and saw a stranger. Mrs. +Thornton greeted him as usual and sat down smiling. The stranger rose, +and he and Despard looked at one another. + +He was of medium size and slight in figure. His brow was very broad and +high. His hair was black, and clustered in curls over his head. His eyes +were large, and seemed to possess an unfathomable depth, which gave them +a certain undefinable and mystic meaning--liquid eyes, yet lustrous, +where all the soul seemed to live and show itself--benignant in their +glance, yet lofty like the eyes of a being from some superior sphere. +His face was thin and shaven close, his lips also were thin, with a +perpetual smile of marvelous sweetness and gentleness hovering about +them. It was such a face as artists love to give to the Apostle +John--the sublime, the divine, the loving, the inspired. + +"You do not know him," said Mrs. Thornton. "It is Paolo!" + +Despard at once advanced and greeted him with the warmest cordiality. + +"I was only a little fellow when I saw you last, and you have changed +somewhat since then," said Despard. "But when did you arrive? I knew +that you were expected in England, but was not sure that you would come +here." + +"What! _Teresuola mia_," said Langhetti with a fond smile at his sister. +"Were you really not sure, _sorellina_, that I would come to see you +first of all? Infidel!" and he shook his head at her, playfully. + +A long conversation followed, chiefly about Langhetti's plans. He was +going to engage a place in London for his opera, but wished first +to secure a singer. Oh, if he only could find Bice--his Bicina, the +divinest voice that mortal ever heard. + +Despard and Mrs. Thornton exchanged glances, and at last Despard told +him that there was a person of the same name at Brandon Hall. She was +living in a seclusion so strict that it seemed confinement, and there +was a mystery about her situation which he had tried without success to +fathom. + +Langhetti listened with a painful surprise that seemed like positive +anguish. + +"Then I must go myself. Oh, my Bicina--to what misery have you come--But +do you say that you have been there?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go to the Hall?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I know the man to be a villain indescribable--" + +Langhetti thought for a moment, and then said, + +"True, he is all that, and perhaps more than you imagine." + +"I have done the utmost that can be done!" said Despard. + +"Perhaps so; still each one wishes to try for himself, and though I can +scarce hope to be more successful than you, yet I must try, if only +for my own peace of mind. Oh, _Bicina cara!_ to think of her sweet +and gentle nature being subject to such torments as those ruffians can +inflict! + +"You do not know how it is," said he at last, very solemnly; "but there +are reasons of transcendent importance why Bice should be rescued. I can +not tell them; but if I dared mention what I hope, if I only dared to +speak my thoughts, you--you," he cried, with piercing emphasis, and in a +tone that thrilled through Despard, to whom he spoke, "you would make it +the aim of all your life to save her." + +"I do not understand," said Despard, in astonishment. + +"No, no," murmured Langhetti. "You do not; nor dare I explain what I +mean. It has been in my thoughts for years. It was brought to my mind +first in Hong Kong, when she was there. Only one person besides Potts +can explain; only one." + +"Who?" cried Despard, eagerly. + +"A woman named Compton." + +"Compton!" + +"Yes. Perhaps she is dead. Alas, and alas, and alas, if she is! Yet +could I but see that woman, I would tear the truth from her if I +perished in the attempt!" + +And Langhetti stretched out his long, slender hand, as though he were +plucking out the very heart of some imaginary enemy. + +"Think, Teresuola," said he, after a while, "if you were in captivity, +what would become of my opera? Could I have the heart to think about +operas, even if I believed that they contributed to the welfare of +the world, if your welfare was at stake? Now you know that next to you +stands Bice. I must try and save her--I must give up all. My opera must +stand aside till it be God's will that I give it forth. No, the one +object of my life now must be to find Bice, to see her or to see Mrs. +Compton, if she is alive." + +"Is the secret of so much importance?" asked Despard. + +Langhetti looked at him with mournful meaning. + +Despard looked at him wonderingly. What could he mean? How could any one +affect him? His peace of mind! That had been lost long ago. And if this +secret was so terrible it would distract his mind from its grief, its +care, and its longing. Peace would be restored rather than destroyed. + +"I must find her. I must find her," said Langhetti, speaking half to +himself. "I am weak; but much can be done by a resolute will." + +"Perhaps Mr. Thornton can assist you," said Despard. + +Langhetti shook his head. + +"No; he is a man of law, and does not understand the man who acts +from feeling. I can be as logical as he, but I obey impulses which are +unintelligible to him. He would simply advise me to give up the matter, +adding, perhaps, that I would do myself no good. Whereas he can not +understand that it makes no difference to me whether I do myself good +or not; and again, that the highest good that I can do myself is to seek +after her." + +Mrs. Thornton looked at Despard, but he avoided her glance. + +"No," said Langhetti, "I will ask assistance from another--from you, +Despard. You are one who acts as I act. Come with me." + +"When?" + +"To-morrow morning." + +"I will." + +"Of course you will. You would not be a Despard if you did not. You +would not be the son of your father--your father!" he repeated, in +thrilling tones, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. "Despard!" he +cried, after a pause, "your father was a man whom you might pray to now. +I saw him once. Shall I ever forget the day when he calmly went to lay +down his life for my father? Despard, I worship your father's memory. +Come with me. Let us emulate those two noble men who once before rescued +a captive. We can not risk our lives as they did. Let us at least do +what we can." + +"I will do exactly what you say. You can think and I will act." + +"No, you must think too. Neither of us belong to the class of practical +men whom the world now delights to honor; but no practical man would go +on our errand. No practical man would have rescued my father. Generous +and lofty acts must always be done by those who are not practical men." + +"But I must go out. I must think," he continued. "I will go and walk +about the grounds." + +Saying this he left the room. + +"Where is Edith Brandon?" asked Despard, after he had gone. + +"She is here," said Mrs. Thornton. + +"Have you seen her?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she what you anticipated?" + +"More. She is incredible. She is almost unearthly. I feel awe of her, +but not fear. She is too sweet to inspire fear." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +FLIGHT. + +The last entry in Beatrice's journal was made by her in the hope that it +might be the last. + +In her life at Brandon Hall her soul had grown stronger and more +resolute. Besides, it had now come to this, that henceforth she must +either stay and accept the punishment which they might contrive or fly +instantly. + +For she had dared them to their faces; she had told them of their +crimes; she had threatened punishment. She had said that she was the +avenger of Despard. If she had desired instant death she could have said +no more than that. Would they pass it by? She knew their secret--the +secret of secrets; she had proclaimed it to their faces. She had called +Potts a Thug and disowned him as her father; what now remained? + +But one thing--flight. And this she was fully resolved to try. She +prepared nothing. To gain the outside world was all she wished. The need +of money was not thought of; nor if it had been would it have made any +difference. She could not have obtained it. + +The one idea in her mind was therefore flight. She had concealed her +journal under a looser piece of the flooring in one of the closets of +her room, being unwilling to encumber herself with it, and dreading the +result of a search in case she was captured. + +She made no other preparations whatever. A light hat and a thin jacket +were all that she took to resist the chill air of March. There was a +fever in her veins which was heightened by excitement and suspense. + +Mrs. Compton was in her room during the evening. Beatrice said but +little. Mrs. Compton talked drearily about the few topics on which she +generally spoke. She never dared talk about the affairs of the house. + +Beatrice was not impatient, for she had no idea of trying to escape +before midnight. She sat silently while Mrs. Compton talked or prosed, +absorbed in her own thoughts and plans. The hours seemed to her +interminable. Slowly and heavily they dragged on. Beatrice's suspense +and excitement grew stronger every moment, yet by a violent effort she +preserved so perfect an outward calm that a closer observer than Mrs. +Compton would have failed to detect any emotion. + +At last, about ten o'clock, Mrs. Compton retired, with many kind wishes +to Beatrice, and many anxious counsels as to her health. Beatrice +listened patiently, and made some general remarks, after which Mrs. +Compton withdrew. + +She was now left to herself, and two hours still remained before she +could dare to venture. She paced the room fretfully and anxiously, +wondering why it was that the time seemed so long, and looking from +time to time at her watch in the hope of finding that half an hour had +passed, but seeing to her disappointment that only two or three minutes +had gone. + +At last eleven o'clock came. She stole out quietly into the hall and +went to the top of the grand stairway. There she stood and listened. + +The sound of voices came up from the dining-room, which was near the +hall-door. She knew to whom those voices belonged. Evidently it was not +yet the time for her venture. + +She went back, controlling her excitement as best she might. At last, +after a long, long suspense, midnight sounded. + +Again she went to the head of the stairway. The voices were still heard. +They kept late hours down there. Could she try now, while they were +still up? Not yet. + +Not yet. The suspense became agonizing. How could she wait? But she went +back again to her room, and smothered her feelings until one o'clock +came. + +Again she went to the head of the stairway. She heard nothing. She could +see a light streaming from the door of the dining-hall below. Lights, +also, were burning in the hall itself; but she heard no voices. + +Softly and quietly she went down stairs. The lights flashed out through +the door of the dining-room into the hall; and as she arrived at the +foot of the stairs she heard subdued voices in conversation. Her heart +beat faster. They were all there! What if they now discovered her! What +mercy would they show her, even if they were capable of mercy? + +Fear lent wings to her feet. She was almost afraid to breathe for fear +that they might hear her. She stole on quietly and noiselessly up the +passage that led to the north end, and at last reached it. + +All was dark there. At this end there was a door. On each side was +a kind of recess formed by the pillars of the doorway. The door was +generally used by the servants, and also by the inmates of the house for +convenience. + +The key was in it. There was no light in the immediate vicinity. Around +it all was gloom. Near by was a stairway, which led to the servants' +hall. + +She took the key in her hands, which trembled violently with excitement, +and turned it in the lock. + +Scarcely had she done so when she heard footsteps and voices behind +her. She looked hastily back, and, to her horror, saw two servants +approaching with a lamp. It was impossible for her now to open the door +and go out. Concealment was her only plan. + +But how? There was no time for hesitation. Without stopping to think +she slipped into one of the niches formed by the projecting pillars, and +gathered her skirts close about her so as to be as little conspicuous as +possible. There she stood awaiting the result. She half wished that she +had turned back. For if she were now discovered in evident concealment +what excuse could she give? She could not hope to bribe them, for she +had no money. And, what was worst, these servants were the two who had +been the most insolent to her from the first. + +She could do nothing, therefore, but wait. They came nearer, and at last +reached the door. + +"Hallo!" said one, as he turned the key. "It's been unlocked!" + +"It hain't been locked yet," said the other. + +"Yes, it has. I locked it myself an hour ago. Who could have been here?" + +"Any one," said the other, quietly. "Our blessed young master has, no +doubt, been out this way." + +"No, he hasn't. He hasn't stirred from his whisky since eight o'clock." + +"Nonsense! You're making a fuss about nothing. Lock the door and come +along." + +"Any how, I'm responsible, and I'll get a precious overhauling if this +thing goes on. I'll take the key with me this time." + +And saying this, the man locked the door and took out the key. Both of +them then descended to the servants' hall. + +The noise of that key as it grated in the lock sent a thrill through the +heart of the trembling listener. It seemed to take all hope from her. +The servants departed. She had not been discovered. But what was to be +done? She had not been prepared for this. + +She stood for some time in despair. She thought of other ways of escape. +There was the hall-door, which she did not dare to try, for she would +have to pass directly in front of the dining-room. Then there was the +south door at the other end of the building, which was seldom used. She +knew of no others. She determined to try the south door. + +Quietly and swiftly she stole away, and glided, like a ghost, along the +entire length of the building. It was quite dark at the south end as it +had been at the north. She reached the door without accident. + +There was no key in it. It was locked. Escape by that way was +impossible. + +She stood despairing. Only one way was now left, and that lay through +the hall-door itself. + +Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard footsteps. A figure came down +the long hall straight toward her. There was not the slightest chance of +concealment here. There were no pillars behind which she might crouch. +She must stand, then, and take the consequences. Or, rather, would it +not be better to walk forward and meet this new-comer? Yes; that would +be best. She determined to do so. + +So, with a quiet, slow step she walked back through the long corridor. +About half-way she met the other. He stopped and started back. + +"Miss Potts!" he exclaimed, in surprise. + +It was the voice of Philips. + +"Ah, Philips," said she, quietly, "I am walking about for exercise and +amusement. I can not sleep. Don't be startled. It's only me." + +Philips stood like one paralyzed. + +"Don't be cast down," he said at last, in a trembling voice. "You have +friends, powerful friends. They will save you." + +"What do you mean?" asked Beatrice, in wonder. + +"Never mind," said Philips, mysteriously. "It will be all right. I dare +not tell. But cheer up." + +"What do you mean by friends?" + +"You have friends who are more powerful than your enemies, that's all," +said Philips, hurriedly. "Cheer up." + +Beatrice wondered. A vague thought of Brandon came over her mind, but +she dismissed it at once. Yet the thought gave her a delicious joy, and +at once dispelled the extreme agitation which had thus far disturbed +her. Could Philips be connected with _him_? Was he in reality +considerate about her while shaping the course of his gloomy vengeance? +These were the thoughts which flashed across her mind as she stood. + +"I don't understand," said she, at last; "but I hope it may be as you +say. God knows, I need friends!" + +She walked away, and Philips also went onward. She walked slowly, +until at last his steps died out in the distance. Then a door banged. +Evidently she had nothing to fear from him. At last she reached the main +hall, and stopped for a moment. The lights from the dining-room were +still flashing out through the door. The grand entrance lay before +her. There was the door of the hall, the only way of escape that now +remained. Dare she try it? + +She deliberated long. Two alternatives lay before her--to go back to her +own room, or to try to pass that door. To go back was as repulsive as +death, in fact more so. If the choice had been placed full before her +then, to die on the spot or to go back to her room, she would have +deliberately chosen death. The thought of returning, therefore, was the +last upon which she could dwell, and that of going forward was the only +one left. To this she gave her attention. + +At last she made up her mind, and advanced cautiously, close by the +wall, toward the hall-door. After a time she reached the door of the +dining-room. Could she venture to pass it, and how? She paused. She +listened. There were low voices in the room. Then they were still awake, +still able to detect her if she passed the door. + +She looked all around. The hall was wide. On the opposite side the wall +was but feebly lighted. The hall lights had been put out, and those +which shone from the room extended forward but a short distance. It was +just possible therefore to escape observation by crossing the doorway +along the wall that was most distant from it. + +Yet before she tried this she ventured to put forward her head so as to +peep into the room. She stooped low and looked cautiously and slowly. + +The three were there at the farthest end of the room. Bottles and +glasses stood before them, and they were conversing in low tones. Those +tones, however, were not so low but that they reached her ears. They +were speaking about _her_. + +"How could she have found it out?" said Clark. + +"Mrs. Compton only knows _one thing_," said Potts, "and that is _the +secret about her_. She knows nothing more. How could she?" + +"Then how could that cursed girl have found out about the Thug +business?" exclaimed John. + +There was no reply. + +"She's a deep one," said John, "d--d deep--deeper than I ever thought. +I always said she was plucky--cursed plucky--but now I see she's deep +too--and I begin to have my doubts about the way she ought to be took +down." + +"I never could make her out," said Potts. "And now I don't even begin +to understand how she could know that which only we have known. Do you +think, Clark, that the devil could have told her of it?" + +"Yes," said Clark. "Nobody but the devil could have told her that, and +my belief is that she's the devil himself. She's the only person I ever +felt afraid of. D--n it, I can't look her in the face." + +Beatrice retreated and passed across to the opposite wall. She did not +wish to see or hear more. She glided by. She was not noticed. She heard +John's voice--sharp and clear-- + +"We'll have to begin to-morrow and take her down--that's a fact." This +was followed by silence. + +Beatrice reached the door. She turned the knob. Oh, joy! it was not +locked. It opened. + +Noiselessly she passed through; noiselessly she shut it behind her. She +was outside. She was free. + +The moon shone brightly. It illumined the lawn in front and the tops +of the clumps of trees whose dark foliage rose before her. She saw all +this; yet, in her eagerness to escape, she saw nothing more, but sped +away swiftly down the steps, across the lawn, and under the shade of the +trees. + +Which way should she go? There was the main avenue which led in a +winding direction toward the gate and the porter's lodge. There was also +another path which the servants generally took. This led to the gate +also. Beatrice thought that by going down this path she might come near +the gate and then turn off to the wall and try and climb over. + +A few moments of thought were sufficient for her decision. She took the +path and went hurriedly along, keeping on the side where the shadow was +thickest. + +She walked swiftly, until at length she came to a place where the path +ended. It was close by the porter's lodge. Here she paused to consider. + +Late as it was there were lights in the lodge and voices at the door. +Some one was talking with the porter. Suddenly the voices ceased and a +man came walking toward the place where she stood. + +To dart into the thick trees where the shadow lay deepest was the work +of a moment. She stood and watched. But the underbrush was dense, and +the crackling which she made attracted the man's attention. He stopped +for a moment, and then rushed straight toward the place where she was. + +Beatrice gave herself up for lost. She rushed on wildly, not knowing +where she went. Behind her was the sound of her pursuer. He followed +resolutely and relentlessly. There was no refuge for her but continued +flight. + +Onward she sped, and still onward, through the dense underbrush, which +at every step gave notice of the direction which she had taken. Perhaps +if she had been wiser she would have plunged into some thick growth of +trees into the midst of absolute darkness and there remained still. As +it was she did not think of this. Escape was her only thought, and the +only way to this seemed to be by flight. + +So she fled; and after her came her remorseless, her unpitying pursuer, +fear lent wings to her feet. She fled on through the underbrush that +crackled as she passed and gave notice of her track through the dark, +dense groves; yet still amidst darkness and gloom her pursuer followed. + +[Illustration: "ONWARD SHE SPED, AND STILL ONWARD, THROUGH THE DENSE +UNDERBRUSH."] + +At last, through utter weakness and weariness, she sank down. Despair +came over her. She could do no more. + +The pursuer came up. So dense was the gloom in that thick grove that +for some time he could not find her. Beatrice heard the crackling of the +underbrush all around. He was searching for her. + +She crouched down low and scarcely dared to breathe. She took refuge in +the deep darkness, and determined to wait till her pursuer might give up +his search. At last all was still. + +Beatrice thought that he had gone. Yet in her fear she waited for what +seemed to her an interminable period. At last she ventured to make a +movement. Slowly and cautiously she rose to her feet and advanced. She +did not know what direction to take; but she walked on, not caring where +she went so long as she could escape pursuit. + +Scarcely had she taken twenty steps when she heard a noise. Some one +was moving. She stood still, breathless. Then she thought she had been +mistaken. After waiting a long time she went on as before. She walked +faster. The noise came again. It was close by. She stood still for many +minutes. + +Suddenly she bounded up, and ran as one runs for life. Her long rest +had refreshed her. Despair gave her strength. But the pursuer was on +her track. Swiftly, and still more swiftly, his footsteps came up behind +her. He was gaining on her. Still she rushed on. + +At last a strong hand seized her by the shoulder, and she sank down upon +the moss that lay under the forest trees. + +"Who are you?" cried a familiar voice. + +"Vijal!" cried Beatrice. + +The other let go his hold. + +"Will you betray me?" cried Beatrice, in a mournful and despairing +voice. + +Vijal was silent. + +"What do you want?" said he, at last. "Whatever you want to do I will +help you. I will be your slave." + +"I wish to escape." + +"Come then--you shall escape," said Vijal. + +Without uttering another word he walked on and Beatrice followed. Hope +rose once more within her. Hope gave strength. Despair and its weakness +had left her. After about half an hour's walk they reached the park +wall. + +"I thought it was a poacher," said Vijal, sadly; "yet I am glad it was +you, for I can help you. I will help you over the wall." + +He raised her up. She clambered to the top, where she rested for a +moment. + +"God bless you, Vijal, and good-by!" said she. + +Vijal said nothing. + +The next moment she was on the other side. The road lay there. It ran +north away from the village. Along this road Beatrice walked swiftly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +"PICKED UP ADRIFT." + +On the morning following two travelers left a small inn which lay on the +road-side, about ten miles north of Brandon. It was about eight o'clock +when they took their departure, driving in their own carriage at a +moderate pace along the road. + +"Look, Langhetti," said the one who was driving, pointing with his whip +to an object in the road directly in front of them. + +Langhetti raised his head, which had been bowed down in deep +abstraction, to look in the direction indicated. A figure was +approaching them. It looked like a woman. She walked very slowly, and +appeared rather to stagger than to walk. + +"She appears to be drunk, Despard," said Langhetti. "Poor wretch, and on +this bleak March morning too! Let us stop and see if we can do any thing +for her." + +They drove on, and as they met the woman Despard stopped. + +She was young and extraordinarily beautiful. Her face was thin and +white. Her clothing was of fine materials but scanty and torn to shreds. +As they stopped she turned her large eyes up despairingly and stood +still, with a face which seemed to express every conceivable emotion of +anguish and of hope. Yet as her eyes rested on Langhetti a change came +over her. The deep and unutterable sadness of her face passed away, and +was succeeded by a radiant flash of joy. She threw out her arms toward +him with a cry of wild entreaty. + +The moment that Langhetti saw her he started up and stood for an instant +as if paralyzed. Her cry came to his ears. He leaped from the carriage +toward her, and caught her in his arms. + +"Oh, Bice! Alas, my Bicina!" he cried, and a thousand fond words came to +his lips. + +Beatrice looked up with eyes filled with grateful tears; her lips +murmured some inaudible sentences; and then, in this full assurance +of safety, the resolution that had sustained her so long gave way +altogether. Her eyes closed, she gave a low moan, and sank senseless +upon his breast. + +Langhetti supported her for a moment, then gently laid her down to try +and restore her. He chafed her hands, and did all that is usually done +in such emergencies. But here the case was different--it was more than a +common faint, and the animation now suspended was not to be restored by +ordinary efforts. + +Langhetti bowed over her as he chafed her hands. "Ah, my Bicina," he +cried; "is it thus I find you! Ah, poor thin hand! Alas, white wan face! +What suffering has been yours, pure angel, among those fiends of hell!" + +He paused, and turned a face of agony toward Despard. But as he looked +at him he saw a grief in his countenance that was only second to his +own. Something in Beatrice's appearance had struck him with a deeper +feeling than that merely human interest which the generous heart feels +in the sufferings of others. + +"Langhetti," said he, "let us not leave this sweet angel exposed to this +bleak wind. We must take her back to the inn. We have gained our object. +Alas! the gain is worse than a failure." + +"What can we do?" + +"Let us put her in the carriage between us, and drive back instantly." + +Despard stooped as he spoke, raised her reverently in his arms, and +lifted her upon the seat. He sprang in and put his arms around her +senseless form, so as to support her against himself. Langhetti looked +on with eyes that were moist with a sad yet mysterious feeling. + +Then he resumed his place in the carriage. + +"Oh, Langhetti!" said Despard, "what is it that I saw in the face of +this poor child that so wrings my heart? What is this mystery of yours +that you will not tell?" + +"I can not solve it," said Langhetti, "and therefore I will not tell +it." + +"Tell it, whatever it is." + +"No, it is only conjecture as yet, and I will not utter it." + +"And it affects me?" + +"Deeply." + +"Therefore tell it." + +"Therefore I must not tell it; for if it prove baseless I shall only +excite your feeling in vain." + +"At any rate let me know. For I have the wildest fancies, and I wish to +know if it is possible that they are like your own." + +"No, Despard," said Langhetti. "Not now. The time may come, but it has +not yet." + +Beatrice's head leaned against Despard's shoulder as she reclined +against him, sustained by his arm. Her face was upturned; a face as +white as marble, her pure Grecian features showing now their faultless +lines like the sculptured face of some goddess. Her beauty was perfect +in its classic outline. But her eyes were closed, and her wan, white +lips parted; and there was a sorrow on her face which did not seem +appropriate to one so young. + +[Illustration: "HE LEAPED FROM THE CARRIAGE TOWARD HER, AND CAUGHT HER +IN HIS ARMS."] + +"Look," said Langhetti, in a mournful voice. "Saw you ever in all your +life any one so perfectly and so faultlessly beautiful? Oh, if you could +but have seen her, as I have done, in her moods of inspiration, when she +sang! Could I ever have imagined such a fate as this for her?" + +"Oh, Despard!" he continued, after, a pause in which the other had +turned his stern face to him without a word--"Oh, Despard! you ask me to +tell you this secret. I dare not. It is so wide-spread. If my fancy be +true, then all your life must at once be unsettled, and all your soul +turned to one dark purpose. Never will I turn you to that purpose till I +know the truth beyond the possibility of a doubt." + +"I saw that in her face," said Despard, "which I hardly dare acknowledge +to myself." + +"Do not acknowledge it, then, I implore you. Forget it. Do not open up +once more that old and now almost forgotten sorrow. Think not of it even +to yourself." + +Langhetti spoke with a wild and vehement urgency which was wonderful. + +"Do you not see," said Despard, "that you rouse my curiosity to an +intolerable degree?" + +"Be it so; at any rate it is better to suffer from curiosity than to +feel what you must feel if I told you what I suspect." + +Had it been any other man than Langhetti Despard would have been +offended. As it was he said nothing, but began to conjecture as to the +best course for them to follow. + +"It is evident," said he to Langhetti, "that she has escaped from +Brandon Hall during the past night. She will, no doubt, be pursued. What +shall we do? If we go back to this inn they will wonder at our bringing +her. There is another inn a mile further on." + +"I have been thinking of that," replied Langhetti. "It will be better to +go to the other inn. But what shall we say about her? Let us say she is +an invalid going home." + +"And am I her medical attendant?" asked Despard. + +"No; that is not necessary. You are her guardian--the Rector of Holby, +of course--your name is sufficient guarantee." + +"Oh," said Despard, after a pause, "I'll tell you something better yet. +I am her brother and she is my sister--Miss Despard." + +As he spoke he looked down upon her marble face. He did not see +Langhetti's countenance. Had he done so he would have wondered. For +Langhetti's eyes seemed to seek to pierce the very soul of Despard. +His face became transformed. Its usual serenity vanished, and there was +eager wonder, intense and anxious curiosity--an endeavor to see if there +was not some deep meaning underlying Despard's words. But Despard showed +no emotion. He was conscious of no deep meaning. He merely murmured to +himself as he looked down upon the unconscious face: + +"My sick sister--my sister Beatrice." + +Langhetti said not a word, but sat in silence, absorbed in one intense +and wondering gaze. Despard seemed to dwell upon this idea, fondly and +tenderly. + +"She is not one of that brood," said he, after a pause. "It is in name +only that she belongs to them." + +"They are fiends and she is an angel," said Langhetti. + +"Heaven has sent her to us; we most preserve her forever." + +"If she lives," said Langhetti, "she must never go back." + +"Go back!" cried Despard. "Better far for her to die." + +"I myself would die rather than give her up." + +"And I, too. But we will not. I will adopt her. Yes, she shall cast away +the link that binds her to these accursed ones--her vile name. I will +adopt her. She shall have my name--she shall be my sister. She shall be +Beatrice Despard. + +"And surely," continued Despard, looking tenderly down, "surely, of all +the Despard race there was never one so beautiful and so pure as she." + +Langhetti did not say a word, but looked at Despard and the one whom +he thus called his adopted sister with an emotion which he could +not control. Tears started to his eyes; yet over his brow there came +something which is not generally associated with tears--a lofty, +exultant expression, an air of joy and peace. + +"Your sister," said Despard, "shall nurse her back to health. She +will do so for your sake, Langhetti--or rather from her own noble and +generous instincts. In Thornton Grange she will, perhaps, find some +alleviation for the sorrows which she may have endured. Our care shall +be around her, and we can all labor together for her future welfare." + +They at length reached the inn of which they had spoken, and Beatrice +was tenderly lifted out and carried up stairs. She was mentioned as the +sister of the Rev. Mr. Despard, of Holby, who was bringing her back from +the sea-side, whither she had gone for her health. Unfortunately, she +had been too weak for the journey. + +The people of the inn showed the kindest attention and warmest sympathy. +A doctor was sent for, who lived at a village two miles farther on. + +Beatrice recovered from her faint, but remained unconscious. The doctor +considered that her brain was affected. He shook his head solemnly over +it; as doctors always do when they have nothing in particular to say. +Both Langhetti and Despard knew more about her case than he did. + +They saw that rest was the one thing needed. But rest could be better +attained in Holby than here; and besides, there was the danger of +pursuit. It was necessary to remove her; and that, too, without delay. +A closed carriage was procured without much difficulty, and the patient +was deposited therein. + +A slow journey brought them by easy stages to Holby. Beatrice remained +unconscious. A nurse was procured, who traveled with her. The condition +of Beatrice was the same which she described in her diary. Great grief +and extraordinary suffering and excitement had overtasked the brain, and +it had given way. So Despard and Langhetti conjectured. + +At last they reached Holby. They drove at once to Thornton Grange. + +"What is this?" cried Mrs. Thornton, who had heard nothing from them, +and ran out upon the piazza to meet them as she saw them coming. + +"I have found Bice," said Langhetti, "and have brought her here." + +"Where is she?" + +"There," said Langhetti. "I give her to your care--it is for you to give +her back to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +ON THE TRACK. + +Beatrice's disappearance was known at Brandon Hall on the following day. +The servants first made the discovery. They found her absent from her +room, and no one had seen her about the house. It was an unusual thing +for her to be out of the house early in the day, and of late for many +months she had scarcely ever left her room, so that now her absence at +once excited suspicion. The news was communicated from one to another +among the servants. Afraid of Potts, they did not dare to tell him, but +first sought to find her by themselves. They called Mrs. Compton, +and the fear which perpetually possessed the mind of this poor, timid +creature now rose to a positive frenzy of anxiety and dread. She told +all that she knew, and that was that she had seen her the evening before +as usual, and had left her at ten o'clock. + +No satisfaction therefore could be gained from her. The servants tried +to find traces of her, but were unable. At length toward evening, on +Potts's return from the bank, the news was communicated to him. + +The rage of Potts need not be described here. That one who had twice +defied should now escape him filled him with fury. He organized all his +servants into bands, and they scoured the grounds till darkness put an +end to these operations. + +That evening Potts and his two companions dined in moody silence, only +conversing by fits and starts. + +"I don't think she's killed herself," said Potts, in reply to an +observation of Clark. "She's got stuff enough in her to do it, but I +don't believe she has. She's playing a deeper game. I only wish we could +fish up her dead body out of some pond; it would quiet matters down very +considerable." + +"If she's got off she's taken with her some secrets that won't do us any +good," remarked John. + +"The devil of it is," said Potts, "we don't know how much she does know. +She must know a precious lot, or she never would have dared to say what +she did." + +"But how could she get out of the park?" said Clark. "That wall is too +high to climb over, and the gates are all locked." + +"It's my opinion," exclaimed John, "that she's in the grounds yet." + +Potts shook his head. + +"After what she told me it's my belief she can do any thing. Why, didn't +she tell us of crimes that were committed before she was born? I begin +to feel shaky, and it is the girl that has made me so." + +Potts rose to his feet, plunged his hands deep into his pockets, and +walked up and down. The others sat in gloomy silence. + +"Could that Hong Kong nurse of hers have told her any thing?" asked +John. + +"She didn't know any thing to tell." + +"Mrs. Compton must have blown, then." + +"Mrs. Compton didn't know. I tell you that there is not one human being +living that knows what she told us besides ourselves and her. How the +devil she picked it up I don't know." + +"I didn't like the cut of her from the first," said John. "She had a way +of looking that made me feel uneasy, as though there was something in +her that would some day be dangerous. I didn't want you to send for +her." + +"Well, the mischief's done now." + +"You're not going to give up the search, are you?" asked Clark. + +"Give it up! Not I." + +"We must get her back." + +"Yes; our only safety now is in catching her again at all hazards." + +There was a long silence. + +"Twenty years ago," said Potts, moodily, "the _Vishnu_ drifted away, and +since the time of the trial no one has mentioned it to me till that girl +did." + +"And she is only twenty years old," rejoined John. + +"I tell you, lads, you've got the devil to do with when you tackle her," +remarked Clark; "but if she is the devil we must fight it out and crush +her." + +"Twenty-three years," continued Potts, in the same gloomy +tone--"twenty-three years have passed since I was captured with my +followers. No one has mentioned that since. No one in all the world +knows that I am the only Englishman that ever joined the Thugs except +that girl." + +"She must know every thing that we have done," said Clark. + +"Of course she must." + +"Including our Brandon enterprise," said John. + +"And including your penmanship." said Clark; "enough, lad, to stretch a +neck." + +"Come," said Potts, "don't let us talk of this, any how." + +Again they relapsed into silence. + +"Well!" exclaimed John, at last, "what are you going to do to-morrow?" + +"Chase her till I find her," replied Potts, savagely. + +"But where?" + +"I've been thinking of a plan which seems to me to be about the thing." + +"What?" + +"A good old plan," said Potts. "Your pup, Johnnie, can help us." + +John pounded his fist on the table with savage exultation. + +"My blood-hound! Good, old Dad, what a trump you are to think of that!" + +"He'll do it!" + +"Yes," said John, "if he gets on her track and comes up with her I'm a +little afraid that we'll arrive at the spot just too late to save her. +It's the best way that I know of for getting rid of the difficulty +handsomely. Of course we are going after her through anxiety, and the +dog is an innocent pup who comes with us; and if any disaster happens we +will kill him on the spot." + +Potts shook his head moodily. He had no very hopeful feeling about this. +He was shaken to the soul at the thought of this stern, relentless girl +carrying out into the world his terrific secret. + +Early on the following morning they resumed their search after the lost +girl. This time the servants were not employed, but the three themselves +went forth to try what they could do. With them was the "pup" to which +allusion had been made on the previous evening. This animal was a huge +blood-hound, which John had purchased to take the place of his bull-dog, +and of which he was extravagantly proud. True to his instinct, the hound +understood from smelling an article of Beatrice's apparel what it was +that he was required to seek, and he went off on her trail out through +the front door, down the steps, and up to the grove. + +The others followed after. The dog led them down the path toward the +gate, and thence into the thick grove and through the underbrush. Scraps +of her dress still clung in places to the brushwood. The dog led them +round and round wherever Beatrice had wandered in her flight from Vijal. +They all believed that they would certainly find her here, and that she +had lost her way or at least tried to conceal herself. But at last, to +their disappointment, the dog turned away out of the wood and into the +path again. Then he led them along through the woods until he reached +the Park wall. Here the animal squatted on his haunches, and, lifting up +his head, gave a long deep howl. + +"What's this?" said Potts. + +"Why, don't you see? She's got over the wall somehow. All that we've got +to do is to put the dog over, and follow on." + +[Illustration: "WHY, DON'T YOU SEE? SHE'S GOT OVER THE WALL SOMEHOW."] + +The others at once understood that this must be the case. In a short +time they were on the other side of the wall, where the dog found the +trail again, and led on while they followed as before. + +They did not, however, wish to seem like pursuers. That would hardly +be the thing in a country of law and order. They chose to walk rather +slowly, and John held the dog by a strap which he had brought with him. +They soon found the walk much longer than they had anticipated, and +began to regret that they had not come in a carriage. They had gone too +far, however, to remedy this now, so they resolved to continue on their +way as they were. + +"Gad!" said John, who felt fatigued first, "what a walker she is!" + +"She's the devil!" growled Clark, savagely. + +At last, after about three hours' walk, the dog stopped at a place by +the road-side, and snuffed in all directions. The others watched him +anxiously for a long time. The dog ran all around sniffing at the +ground, but to no purpose. + +He had lost the trail. Again and again he tried to recover it. But his +blood-thirsty instinct was completely at fault. The trail had gone, and +at last the animal came up to his master and crouched down at his feet +with a low moan. + +"Sold!" cried John, with a curse. + +"What can have become of her?" said Potts. + +"I don't know," said John. "I dare say she's got took up in some wagon. +Yes, that's it. That's the reason why the trail has gone." + +"What shall we do now? We can't follow. It may have been the coach, and +she may have got a lift to the nearest railway station." + +"Well," said John, "I'll tell you what we can do. Let one of us go to +the inns that are nearest, and ask if there was a girl in the coach that +looked like her, or make any inquiries that may be needed. We could find +out that much at any rate." + +The others assented. John swore he was too tired. At length, after some +conversation, they all determined to go on, and to hire a carriage back. +Accordingly on they went, and soon reached an inn. + +Here they made inquiries, but could learn nothing whatever about any +girl that had stopped there. Potts then hired a carriage and drove off +to the next inn, leaving the others behind. He returned in about two +hours. His face bore an expression of deep perplexity. + +"Well, what luck, dad?" asked John. + +"There's the devil to pay," growled Potts. + +"Did you find her?" + +"There is a girl at the next inn, and it's her. Now what name do you +think they call her by?" + +"What?" + +"Miss Despard." + +Clark turned pale and looked at John, who gave a long, low whistle. + +"Is she alone?" asked John. + +"No--that's the worst of it. A reverend gent is with her, who has charge +of her, and says he is her brother." + +"Who?" + +"His name is Courtenay Despard, son of Colonel Lionel Despard," said +Potts. + +The others returned his look in utter bewilderment. + +"I've been thinking and thinking," said Potts, "but I haven't got to +the bottom of it yet. We can't do any thing just now, that's evident. +I found out that this reverend gent is on his way to Holby, where he is +rector. The only thing left for us to do is to go quietly home and look +about us." + +"It seems to me that this is like the beginning of one of those monsoon +storms," said Clark, gloomily. + +The others said nothing. In a short time they were on their way back, +moody and silent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +BEATRICE'S RECOVERY. + +It was not easy for the overtasked and overworn powers of Beatrice to +rally. Weeks passed before she opened her eyes to a recognition of the +world around her. It was March when she sank down by the road-side. +It was June when she began to recover from the shock of the terrible +excitement through which she had passed. + +Loving hearts sympathized with her, tender hands cared for her, vigilant +eyes watched her, and all that love and care could do were unremittingly +exerted for her benefit. + +As Beatrice opened her eyes after her long unconsciousness she looked +around in wonder, recognizing nothing. Then they rested in equal wonder +upon one who stood by her bedside. + +She was slender and fragile in form, with delicate features, whose fine +lines seemed rather like ideal beauty than real life. The eyes were +large, dark, lustrous, and filled with a wonderful but mournful beauty. +Yet all the features, so exquisite in their loveliness, were transcended +by the expression that dwelt upon them. It was pure, it was spiritual, +it was holy. It was the face of a saint, such a face as appears to +the rapt devotee when fasting has done its work, and the quickened +imagination grasps at ideal forms till the dwellers in heaven seem to +become visible. + +In her confused mind Beatrice at first had a faint fancy that she was +in another state of existence, and that the form before her was one of +those pure intelligences who had been appointed to welcome her there. +Perhaps there was some such thought visible upon her face, for the +stranger came up to her noiselessly, and stooping down, kissed her. + +"You are among friends," said she, in a low, sweet voice. "You have been +sick long." + +"Where am I?" + +"Among loving friends," said the other, "far away from the place where +you suffered." + +Beatrice sighed. + +"I hoped that I had passed away forever," she murmured. + +"Not yet, not yet," said the stranger, in a voice of tender yet mournful +sweetness, which had in it an unfathomable depth of meaning. "We must +wait on here, dear friend, till it be His will to call us." + +"And who are you?" asked Beatrice, after a long and anxious look at the +face of the speaker. + +"My name is Edith Brandon," said the other, gently. + +"Brandon!--Edith Brandon!" cried Beatrice, with a vehemence which +contrasted strangely with the scarce-audible words with which she had +just spoken. + +The stranger smiled with the same melancholy sweetness which she had +shown before. + +"Yes," said she; "but do not agitate yourself, dearest." + +"And have you nursed me?" + +"Partly. But you are in the house of one who is like an angel in her +loving care of you." + +"But you--you?" persisted Beatrice; "you did not perish, then, as they +said?" + +"No," replied the stranger; "it was not permitted me." + +"Thank God!" murmured Beatrice, fervently. "_He_ has one sorrow less. +Did _he_ save you?" + +"He," said Edith, "of whom you speak does not know that I am alive, nor +do I know where he is. Yet some day we will perhaps meet. And now you +must not speak. You will agitate yourself too much. Here you have those +who love you. For the one who brought you here is one who would lay down +his life for yours, dearest--he is Paolo Langhetti." + +"Langhetti!" said Beatrice. "Oh, God be thanked!" + +"And she who has taken you to her heart and home is his sister." + +"His sister Teresa, of whom he used to speak so lovingly? Ah! God is +kinder to me than I feared. Ah, me! it is as though I had died and have +awaked in heaven." + +"But now I will speak no more, and you must speak no more, for you will +only increase your agitation. Rest, and another time you can ask what +you please." + +Edith turned away and walked to one of the windows, where she looked out +pensively upon the sea. + +From this time Beatrice began to recover rapidly. Langhetti's sister +seemed to her almost like an old friend since she had been associated +with some of her most pleasant memories. An atmosphere of love was +around her: the poor sufferer inhaled the pure and life-giving air, and +strength came with every breath. + +At length she was able to sit up, and then Langhetti saw her. He greeted +her with all the ardent and impassioned warmth which was so striking a +characteristic of his impulsive and affectionate nature. Then she saw +Despard. + +There was something about this man which filled her with indefinable +emotions. The knowledge which she had of the mysterious fate of his +father did not repel her from him. A wonderful and subtle sympathy +seemed at once to arise between the two. The stern face of Despard +assumed a softer and more genial expression when he saw her. His tone +was gentle and affectionate, almost paternal. + +[Illustration: "AS BEATRICE OPENED HER EYES AFTER HER LONG +UNCONSCIOUSNESS SHE LOOKED AROUND IN WONDER."] + + +What was the feeling that arose within her heart toward this man? With +the one for her Father who had inflicted on his father so terrible a +fate, how did she dare to look him in the face or exchange words with +him? Should she not rather shrink away as once she shrank from Brandon? + +Yet she did not shrink. His presence brought a strange peace and calm +over her soul. His influence was more potent over her than that of +Langhetti. In this strange company he seemed to her to be the centre and +the chief. + +To Beatrice Edith was an impenetrable mystery. Her whole manner excited +her deepest reverence and at the same time her strongest curiosity. The +fact that she was _his_ sister would of itself have won her heart; but +there were other things about her which affected her strangely. + +Edith moved among the others with a strange, far-off air, an air at once +full of gentle affection, yet preoccupied. Her manner indicated love, +yet the love of one who was far above them. She was like some grown +person associating with young children whom he loved. "Her soul was like +a star and dwelt apart." + +Paolo seemed more like an equal; but Paolo himself approached equality +only because he could understand her best. He alone could enter +into communion with her. Beatrice noticed a profound and unalterable +reverence in his manner toward Edith, which was like that which a son +might pay a mother, yet more delicate and more chivalrous. All this, +however, was beyond her comprehension. + +She once questioned Mrs. Thornton, but received no satisfaction. Mrs. +Thornton looked mysterious, but shook her head. + +"Your brother treats her like a divinity." + +"I suppose he thinks she is something more than mortal." + +"Do you have that awe of her which I feel?" + +"Yes; and so does every one. I feel toward her as though she belonged to +another world. She takes no interest in this." + +"She nursed me." + +"Oh yes! Every act of love or kindness which she can perform she seeks +out and does, but now as you grow better she falls back upon herself." + +Surrounded by such friends as these Beatrice rapidly regained her +strength. Weeks went on, and at length she began to move about, to take +long rides and drives, and to stroll through the Park. + +During these weeks Paolo made known to her his plans. She embraced them +eagerly. + +"You have a mission," said he. "It was not for nothing that your +divine voice was given to you. I have written my opera under the most +extraordinary circumstances. You know what it is. Never have I been able +to decide how it should be represented. I have prayed for a Voice. At my +time of need you were thrown in my way. My Bice, God has sent you. Let +us labor together." + +Beatrice grasped eagerly at this idea. To be a singer, to interpret +the thoughts of Langhetti, seemed delightful to her. She would then be +dependent on no friend. She would be her own mistress. She would not be +forced to lead a life of idleness, with her heart preying upon itself. +Music would come to her aid. It would be at once the purpose, the +employment, and the delight of her life. If there was one thing to her +which could alleviate sorrow and grief it was the exultant joy which was +created within her by the Divine Art--that Art which alone is common to +earth and heaven. And for Beatrice there was this joy, that she had one +of those natures which was so sensitive to music that under its power +heaven itself appeared to open before her. + +All these were lovers of music, and therefore had delights to which +common mortals are strangers. To the soul which is endowed with the +capacity for understanding the delights of tone there are joys peculiar, +at once pure and enduring, which nothing else that this world gives can +equal. + +Langhetti was the high-priest of this charmed circle. Edith was +the presiding or inspiring divinity. Beatrice was the medium of +utterance--the Voice that brought down heaven to earth. + +Mrs. Thornton and Despard stood apart, the recipients of the sublime +effects and holy emotions which the others wrought out within them. + +Edith was like the soul. + +Langhetti like the mind. + +Beatrice resembled the material element by which the spiritual is +communicated to man. Hers was the Voice which spoke. + +Langhetti thought that they as a trio of powers formed a means of +communicating new revelations to man. It was natural indeed that he +in his high and generous enthusiasm should have some such thoughts as +these, and should look forward with delight to the time when his work +should first be performed. Edith, who lived and moved in an atmosphere +beyond human feeling, was above the level of his enthusiasm; but +Beatrice caught it all, and in her own generous and susceptible nature +this purpose of Langhetti produced the most powerful effects. + +In the church where Mrs. Thornton and Despard had so often met there +was now a new performance. Here Langhetti played, Beatrice sang, Edith +smiled as she heard the expression of heavenly ideas, and Despard and +Mrs. Thornton found themselves borne away from all common thoughts by +the power of that sublime rehearsal. + +As time passed and Beatrice grew stronger Langhetti became more +impatient about his opera. The voice of Beatrice, always marvelous, +had not suffered during her sickness. Nay, if any thing, it had grown +better; her soul had gained new susceptibilities since Langhetti +last saw her, and since she could understand more and feel more, her +expression itself had become more subtle and refined. So that Voice +which Langhetti had always called divine had put forth new powers, and +be, if he believed himself the High-Priest and Beatrice the Pythian, saw +that her inspiration had grown more delicate and more profound. + +"We will not set up a new Delphi," said he. "Our revelations are not +new. We but give fresh and extraordinary emphasis to old and eternal +truths." + +In preparing for the great work before them it was necessary to get a +name for Beatrice. Her own name was doubly abhorrent--first, from her +own life-long hate of it, which later circumstances had intensified; +and, secondly, from the damning effect which such a name would have on +the fortune of any _artiste_. Langhetti wished her to take his name, but +Despard showed an extraordinary pertinacity on this point. + +"No," said he, "I am personally concerned in this. I adopted her. She +is my sister. Her name is Despard. If she takes any other name I shall +consider it as an intolerable slight." + +He expressed himself so strongly that Beatrice could not refuse. +Formerly she would have considered that it was infamous for her to take +that noble name; but now this idea had become weak, and it was with a +strange exultation that she yielded to the solicitations of Despard. + +Langhetti himself yielded at once. His face bore an expression of +delight which seemed inexplicable to Beatrice. She asked him why he felt +such pleasure. Was not an Italian name better for a singer? Despard was +an English name, and, though aristocratic, was not one which a great +singer might have. + +"I am thinking of other things, my Bicina," said Langhetti, who had +never given up his old, fond, fraternal manner toward her. "It has no +connection with art. I do not consider the mere effect of the name for +one moment." + +"What is it, then, that you do consider?" + +"Other things." + +"What other things?" + +"Not connected with Art," continued Langhetti, evasively. "I will tell +you some day when the time comes." + +"Now you are exciting my curiosity," said Beatrice, in a low and earnest +tone. "You do not know what thoughts you excite within me. Either you +ought not to excite such ideas, or if you do, it is your duty to satisfy +them." + +"It is not time yet." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"That is a secret." + +"Of course; you make it one; but if it is one connected with me, then +surely I ought to know." + +"It is not time yet for you to know." + +"When will it be time?" + +"I can not tell." + +"And you will therefore keep it a secret forever?" + +"I hope, my Bicina, that the time will come before long." + +"Yet why do you wait, if you know or even suspect any thing in which I +am concerned?" + +"I wish to spare you." + +"That is not necessary. Am I so weak that I can not bear to hear any +thing which you may have to tell? You forget what a life I have had for +two years. Such a life might well prepare me for any thing." + +"If it were merely something which might create sorrow I would tell it. +I believe that you have a self-reliant nature, which has grown stronger +through affliction. But that which I have to tell is different. It is +of such a character that it would of necessity destroy any peace of mind +which you have, and fill you with hopes and feelings that could never be +satisfied." + +"Yet even that I could bear. Do you not see that by your very vagueness +you are exciting my thoughts and hopes? You do not know what I know." + +"What do you know?" asked Langhetti, eagerly. + +Beatrice hesitated. No; she could not tell. That would be to tell all +the holiest secrets of her heart. For she must then tell about Brandon, +and the African island, and the manuscript which he carried and which +had been taken from his bosom. Of this she dared not speak. + +She was silent. + +"You can not _know_ any thing," said Langhetti. "You may suspect much. +I only have suspicions. Yet it would not be wise to communicate these +to you, since they would prove idle and without result." So the +conversation ended, and Langhetti still maintained his secret, though +Beatrice hoped to find it out. + +At length she was sufficiently recovered to be able to begin the work +to which Langhetti wished to lead her. It was August, and Langhetti +was impatient to be gone. So when August began he made preparations to +depart, and in a few days they were in London. Edith was left with Mrs. +Thornton. Beatrice had an attendant who went with her, half chaperon +half lady's maid. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS & CO. + +For more than a year the vast operations of Smithers & Co. had +astonished business circles in London. Formerly they had been considered +as an eminently respectable house, and as doing a safe business; but of +late all this had been changed in so sudden and wonderful a manner that +no one could account for it. Leaving aside their old, cautious policy, +they undertook without hesitation the largest enterprises. Foreign +railroads, national loans, vast joint-stock companies, these were the +things that now occupied Smithers & Co. The Barings themselves were +outrivaled, and Smithers & Co. reached the acme of their sudden glory +on one occasion, when they took the new Spanish loan out of the grasp of +even the Rothschilds themselves. + +How to account for it became the problem. For, allowing the largest +possible success in their former business to Smithers & Co., that +business had never been of sufficient dimensions to allow of this. Some +said that a rich Indian had become a sleeping partner, others declared +that the real Smithers was no more to be seen, and that the business was +managed by strangers who had bought them out and retained their +name. Others again said that Smithers & Co. had made large amounts in +California mining speculations. At length the general belief was, that +some individuals who had made millions of money in California had bought +out Smithers & Co., and were now doing business under their name. As +to their soundness there was no question. Their operations were such as +demanded, first of all, ready money in unlimited quantities. This they +were always able to command. Between them and the Bank of England +there seemed to be the most perfect understanding and the most enviable +confidence. The Rothschilds spoke of them with infinite respect. People +began to look upon them as the leading house in Europe. The sudden +apparition of this tremendous power in the commercial world threw that +world into a state of consternation which finally ended in wondering +awe. + +But Smithers & Co. continued calmly, yet successfully, their great +enterprises. The Russian loan of fifteen millions was negotiated by +them. They took twenty millions of the French loan, five millions of the +Austrian, and two and a half of the Turkish. They took nearly all the +stock of the Lyons and Marseilles Railroad. They owned a large portion +of the stock of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company. +They had ten millions of East India stock. California alone, which +was now dazzling the world, could account to the common mind for such +enormous wealth. The strangest thing was that Smithers himself was never +seen. The business was done by his subordinates. There was a young man +who represented the house in public, and who called himself Henderson. +He was a person of distinguished aspect, yet of reserved and somewhat +melancholy manner. No one pretended to be in his confidence. No one +pretended to know whether he was clerk or partner. As he was the only +representative of Smithers & Co., he was treated with marked respect +wherever he appeared. + +The young man, whether partner or clerk, had evidently the supreme +control of affairs. He swayed in his own hands the thunder-bolts of this +Olympian power. Nothing daunted him. The grandeur of his enterprises +dazzled the public mind. His calm antagonism to the great houses of +London filled them with surprise. A new power had seized a high place +in the commercial world, and the old gods--the Rothschilds, the +Barings, and others--looked aghast. At first they tried to despise this +interloper; at length they found him at least as strong as themselves, +and began to fancy that he might be stronger. A few experiments soon +taught them that there was no weakness there. On one occasion the +Rothschilds, true to their ordinary selfish policy, made a desperate +attempt to crush the new house which dared to enter into rivalry with +them. Widespread plans were arranged in such a way that large demands +were made upon them on one day. The amount was nearly two millions. +Smithers & Co. showed not the smallest hesitation. Henderson, their +representative, did not even take the trouble to confer with the Bank of +England. He sent his orders to the Bank. The money was furnished. It was +the Directors of the Bank of England who looked aghast at this struggle +between Rothschild and Smithers & Co. The gold in the Bank vaults sank +low, and the next day the rates of discount were raised. All London felt +the result of that struggle. + +Smithers & Co. waited for a few months, and then suddenly retorted with +terrific force. The obligations of the Rothschilds were obtained from +all quarters--some which were due were held over and not presented +till the appointed day. Obligations in many forms--in all the forms +of indebtedness that may arise in a vast business--all these had been +collected from various quarters with untiring industry and extraordinary +outlay of care and money. At last in one day they were all poured upon +the Rothschilds. Nearly four millions of money were required to meet +that demand. + +The great house of Rothschild reeled under the blow. Smithers & Co. were +the ones who administered it. James Rothschild had a private interview +with the Directors of the Bank of England. There was a sudden and +enormous sale of securities that day on Change. In selling out +such large amounts the loss was enormous. It was difficult to find +purchasers, but Smithers & Co. stepped forward and bought nearly all +that was offered. The Rothschilds saved themselves, of course, but at a +terrible loss, which became the profits of Smithers & Co. + +The Rothschilds retreated from the conflict utterly routed, and glad to +escape disaster of a worse kind. Smithers & Co. came forth victorious. +They had beaten the Rothschilds at their own game, and had made at +least half a million. All London rang with the story. It was a bitter +humiliation for that proud Jewish house which for years had never met +with a rival. Yet there was no help, nor was there the slightest chance +of revenge. They were forced to swallow the result as best they could, +and to try to regain what they had lost. + +After this the pale and melancholy face of Henderson excited a deeper +interest. This was the man who had beaten the Rothschilds--the strongest +capitalist in the world. In his financial operations he continued as +calm, as grave, and as immovable as ever. He would risk millions +without moving a muscle of his countenance. Yet so sagacious was he, so +wide-spread were his agencies, so accurate was his secret information, +that his plans scarcely ever failed. His capital was so vast that it +often gave him control of the market. Coming into the field untrammeled +as the older houses were, he had a larger control of money than any of +them, and far greater freedom of action. + +After a time the Rothschilds, the Barings, and other great bankers, +began to learn that Smithers & Co. had vast funds every where, in all +the capitals of Europe, and in America. Even in the West Indies their +operations were extensive. Their old Australian agency was enlarged, and +a new banking-house founded by them in Calcutta began to act on the same +vast scale as the leading house at London. Smithers & Co. also continued +to carry on a policy which was hostile to those older bankers. The +Rothschilds in particular felt this, and were in perpetual dread of a +renewal of that tremendous assault under which they had once nearly gone +down. They became timid, and were compelled to arrange their business +so as to guard against this possibility. This, of course, checked their +operations, and widened and enlarged the field of action for their +rivals. + +No one knew any thing whatever about Henderson. None of the clerks could +tell any thing concerning him. They were all new hands. None of them +had ever seen Smithers. They all believed that Henderson was the junior +partner, and that the senior spent his time abroad. From this it began +to be believed that Smithers staid in California digging gold, which he +diligently remitted to the London house. + +At length the clerks began to speak mysteriously of a man who came from +time to time to the office, and whose whole manner showed him to possess +authority there. The treatment which he received from Henderson--at once +cordial and affectionate--showed them to be most intimate and friendly; +and from words which were dropped they all thought him to be the senior +partner. Yet he appeared to be very little older than Henderson, if +as old, and no one even knew his name. If any thing could add to the +interest with which the house of Smithers & Co. was regarded it was this +impenetrable mystery, which baffled not merely outriders but even the +clerks themselves. + +Shortly after the departure of Langhetti and Beatrice from Holby two men +were seated in the inner parlor of the office of Smithers & Co. One was +the man known as Henderson, the other the mysterious senior partner. + +They had just come in and letters were lying on the table. + +"You've got a large number this morning, Frank?" said the senior +partner. + +"Yes," said Frank, turning them over; "and here, Louis, is one for you." +He took out a letter from the pile and handed it to Louis. "It's from +your Brandon Hall correspondent," he added. + +Louis sat down and opened it. The letter was as follows: + +"August 15, 1840. + +"DEAR SIR,--I have had nothing in particular to write since the flight +of Miss Potts, except to tell you what they were doing. I have already +informed you that they kept three spies at Holby to watch her. One of +these returned, as I told you in my last letter, with the information +that she had gone to London with a party named Langhetti. Ever since +then _they_ have been talking it over, and have come to the conclusion +to get a detective and keep him busy watching her with the idea of +getting her back, I think. I hope to God they will not get her back. If +you take any interest in her, Sir, as you appear to do, I hope you will +use your powerful arm to save her. It will be terrible if she has to +come back here. She will die, I know. Hoping soon to have something more +to communicate, + +"I remain, yours respectfully, + +"E.L. + +"Mr. Smithers, Sen., London." + +[Illustration: "LANGHETTI IS ALIVE."] + +Louis read this letter over several times and fell into deep thought. + +Frank went on reading his letters, looking up from time to time. At last +he put down the last one. + +"Louis!" said he. + +Louis looked up. + +"You came so late last night that I haven't had a chance to speak about +any thing yet. I want to tell you something very important." + +"Well!" + +"Langhetti is alive." + +"I know it." + +"You knew it! When? Why did you not tell me?" + +"I didn't want to tell any thing that might distract you from your +purpose." + +"I am not a child, Louis! After my victory over Rothschild I ought to be +worthy of your confidence." + +"That's not the point, Frank," said Louis; "but I know your affection +for the man, and I thought you would give up all to find him." + +"Well!" + +"Well. I thought it would be better to let nothing interpose now between +us and our purpose. No," he continued, with a stern tone, "no, no +one however dear, however loved, and therefore I said nothing about +Langhetti. I thought that your generous heart would only be distressed. +You would feel like giving up every thing to find him out and see him, +and, therefore, I did not wish you even to know it. Yet I have kept an +account of his movements, and know where he is now." + +"He is here in London," said Frank, with deep emotion. + +"Yes, thank God!" said Louis. "You will see him, and we all will be able +to meet some day." + +"But," asked Frank, "do you not think Langhetti is a man to be trusted?" + +"That is not the point," replied Louis. "I believe Langhetti is one of +the noblest men that ever lived. It must be so from what I have heard. +All my life I will cherish his name and try to assist him in every +possible way. I believe also that if we requested it he might perhaps +keep our secret. But that is not the point, Frank. This is the way I +look at it: We are dead. Our deaths have been recorded. Louis Brandon +and Frank Brandon have perished. I am Wheeler, or Smithers, or Forsyth, +or any body else; you are Henderson. We keep our secret because we +have a purpose before us. Our father calls us from his tomb to its +accomplishment. Our mother summons us. Our sweet sister Edith, from her +grave of horror unutterable, calls us. All personal feeling must stand +aside, Frank--yours and mine--whatever they be, till we have done our +duty." + +"You are right, Louis," said Frank, sternly. + +"Langhetti is in London," continued Louis. "You will not see him, +but you can show your gratitude, and so can I. He is going to hire an +opera-house to bring out an opera; I saw that in the papers. It is a +thing full of risk, but he perhaps does not think of that. Let us enable +him to gain the desire of his heart. Let us fill the house for him. +You can send your agents to furnish tickets to people who may make the +audience; or you can send around those who can praise him sufficiently. +I don't know what his opera may be worth. I know, however, from what I +have learned, that he has musical genius; and I think if we give him +a good start he will succeed. That is the way to show your gratitude, +Frank." + +"I'll arrange all that!" said Frank. "The house shall be crowded. I'll +send an agent to him--I can easily find out where he is, I suppose--and +make him an offer of Covent Garden theatre on his own terms. Yes, +Langhetti shall have a fair chance. I'll arrange a plan to enforce +success." + +"Do so, and you will keep him permanently in London till the time comes +when we can arise from the dead." + +They were silent for a long time. Louis had thoughts of his own, excited +by the letter which he had received, and these thoughts he did not care +to utter. One thing was a secret even from Frank. + +And what could he do? That Beatrice had fallen among friends he well +knew. He had found this out when, after receiving a letter from Philips +about her flight, he had hurried there and learned the result. Then he +had himself gone to Holby, and found that she was at Mrs. Thornton's. He +had watched till she had recovered. He had seen her as she took a drive +in Thornton's carriage. He had left an agent there to write him about +her when he left. + +What was he to do now? He read the letter over again. He paused at +that sentence: "They have been talking it over, and have come to the +conclusion to get a detective, and keep him busy watching her with the +idea of getting her back." + +What was the nature of this danger? Beatrice was of age. She was with +Langhetti. She was her own mistress. Could there be any danger of her +being taken back against her will? The villains at Brandon Hall were +sufficiently unscrupulous, but would they dare to commit any violence? +and if they did, would not Langhetti's protection save her? + +Such were his thoughts. Yet, on the other hand, he considered the +fact that she was inexperienced, and might have peculiar ideas about +a father's authority. If Potts came himself, demanding her return, +perhaps, out of a mistaken sense of filial duty, she might go with him. +Or, even if she was unwilling to do so, she might yield to coercion, and +not feel justified in resisting. The possibility of this filled him +with horror. The idea of her being taken back to live under the power of +those miscreants from whom she had escaped was intolerable. Yet he knew +not what to do. + +Between him and her there was a gulf unfathomable, impassable. She was +one of that accursed brood which he was seeking to exterminate. He would +spare her if possible; he would gladly lay down his life to save her +from one moment's misery; but if she stood in the way of his vengeance, +could he--dared he stay that vengeance? For that he would sacrifice life +itself! Would he refuse to sacrifice even _her_ if she were more dear +than life itself? + +Yet here was a case in which she was no longer connected with, but +striving to sever herself from them. She was flying from that accursed +father of hers. Would he stand idly by, and see her in danger? That were +impossible. All along, ever since his return to England, he had watched +over her, unseen himself and unsuspected by her, and had followed her +footsteps when she fled. To desert her now was impossible. The only +question with him was--how to watch her or guard her. + +One thing gave him comfort, and that was the guardianship of Langhetti. +This he thought was sufficient to insure her safety. For surely +Langhetti would know the character of her enemies as well as Beatrice +herself, and so guard her as to insure her safety from any attempt +of theirs. He therefore placed his chief reliance on Langhetti, and +determined merely to secure some one who would watch over her, and let +him know from day to day how she fared. Had he thought it necessary he +would have sent a band of men to watch and guard her by day and night; +but this idea never entered his mind for the simple reason that he did +not think the danger was pressing. England was after all a country of +law, and even a father could not carry off his daughter against her will +when she was of age. So he comforted himself. + +"Well," said he, at last, rousing himself from his abstraction, "how is +Potts now?" + +"Deeper than ever," answered Frank, quietly. + +"The Brandon Bank--" + +"The Brandon Bank has been going at a rate that would have foundered any +other concern long ago. There's not a man that I sent there who has not +been welcomed and obtained all that he wanted. Most of the money that +they advanced has been to men that I sent. They drew on us for the money +and sent us various securities of their own, holding the securities +of these applicants. It is simply bewildering to think how easily that +scoundrel fell into the snare." + +"When a man has made a fortune easily he gets rid of it easily," said +Louis, laconically. "Potts thinks that all his applicants are leading +men of the county. I take good care that they go there as baronets at +least. Some are lords. He is overpowered in the presence of these lords, +and gives them what they ask on their own terms. In his letters he +has made some attempts at an expression of gratitude for our great +liberality. This I enjoyed somewhat. The villain is not a difficult one +to manage, at least in the financial way. I leave the denouement to you, +Louis." + +"The denouement must not be long delayed now." + +"Well, for that matter things are so arranged that we may have 'the +beginning of the end' as soon as you choose." + +"What are the debts of the Brandon Bank to us now?" + +"Five hundred and fifteen thousand one hundred and fifty pounds," said +Frank. + +"Five hundred thousand--very good," returned Louis, thoughtfully. "And +how is the sum secured?" + +"Chiefly by acknowledgments from the bank with the indorsement of John +Potts, President." + +"What are the other liabilities?" + +"He has implored me to purchase for him or sell him some California +stock. I have reluctantly consented to do so," continued Frank, with a +sardonic smile, "entirely through the request of my senior, and he has +taken a hundred shares at a thousand pounds each." + +"One hundred thousand pounds," said Louis. + +"I consented to take his notes," continued Frank, "purely out of regard +to the recommendations of my senior." + +"Any thing else?" asked Louis. + +"He urged me to recommend him to a good broker who might purchase stock +for him in reliable companies. I created a broker and recommended him. +He asked me also confidentially to tell him which stocks were best, so +I kindly advised him to purchase the Mexican and the Guatemala loan. I +also recommended the Venezuela bonds. I threw all these into the market, +and by dextrous manipulation raised the price to 3 per cent, premium. He +paid L103 for every L100. When he wants to sell out, as he may one day +wish to do, he will be lucky if he gets 35 per cent" + +"How much did he buy?" + +"Mexican loan, fifty thousand; Guatemala, fifty thousand; and Venezuela +bonds, fifty thousand." + +"He is quite lavish." + +"Oh, quite. That makes it so pleasant to do business with him." + +"Did you advance the money for this?" + +"He did not ask it. He raised the money somehow, perhaps from our old +advances, and bought them from the broker. The broker was of course +myself. The beauty of all this is, that I send applicants for money, who +give their notes; he gets money from me and gives his notes to me, and +then advances the money to these applicants, who bring it back to me. +It's odd, isn't it?" + +Louis smiled. + +"Has he no _bona fide_ debtors in his own county?" + +"Oh yes, plenty of them; but more than half of his advances have been +made to my men. + +"Did you hint any thing about issuing notes?" + +"Oh yes, and the bait took wonderfully. He made his bank a bank of issue +at once, and sent out a hundred and fifty thousand pounds in notes. I +think it was in this way that he got the money for all that American +stock. At any rate, it helped him. As he has only a small supply of gold +in his vaults, you may very readily conjecture his peculiar position." + +Louis was silent for a time. + +"You have managed admirably, Frank," said he at last. + +"Oh," rejoined Frank, "Potts is very small game, financially. There is +no skill needed in playing with him. He is such a clumsy bungler that he +does whatever one wishes. There is not even excitement. Whatever I tell +him to do he does. Now if I were anxious to crush the Rothschilds, it +would be very different. There would then be a chance for skill." + +"You have had the chance." + +"I did not wish to ruin them," said Frank. "Too many innocent people +would have suffered. I only wished to alarm them. I rather think, from +what I hear, that they were a little disturbed on that day when they had +to pay four millions. Yet I could have crushed them if I had chosen, and +I managed things so as to let them see this." + +"How?" + +"I controlled other engagements of theirs, and on the same day I +magnanimously wrote them a letter, saying that I would not press for +payment, as their notes were as good to me as money. Had I pressed they +would have gone down. Nothing could have saved them. But I did not wish +that. The fact is they have locked up their means very much, and have +been rather careless of late. They have learned a lesson now." + +Louis relapsed into his reflections, and Frank began to answer his +letters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +THE "PROMETHEUS." + +It took some time for Langhetti to make his preparations in London. +September came before he had completed them. To his surprise these +arrangements were much easier than he had supposed. People came to him +of their own accord before he thought it possible that they could +have heard of his project. What most surprised him was a call from the +manager of Covent Garden Theatre, who offered to put it into his hands +for a price so low as to surprise Langhetti more than any thing else +that had occurred. Of course he accepted the offer gratefully and +eagerly. The manager said that the building was on his hands, and he did +not wish to use it for the present, for which reason he would be glad to +turn it over to him. He remarked also that there was very much stock in +the theatre that could be made use of, for which he would charge +nothing whatever. Langhetti went to see it, and found a large number +of magnificently painted scenes, which could be used in his piece. On +asking the manager how scenes of this sort came to be there, he learned +that some one had been representing the "Midsummer Night's Dream," or +something of that sort. + +Langhetti's means were very limited, and as he had risked every thing +on this experiment he was rejoiced to find events so very greatly in his +favor. + +Another circumstance which was equally in his favor, if not more so, +was the kind consideration of the London papers. They announced his +forthcoming work over and over again. Some of their writers came to +see him so as to get the particulars, and what little he told them they +described in the most attractive and effective manner. + +A large number of people presented themselves to form his company, and +he also received applications by letter from many whose eminence and +fortunes placed them above the need of any such thing. It was simply +incomprehensible to Langhetti, who thoroughly understood the ways of the +musical world; yet since they offered he was only too happy to accept. +On having interviews with these persons he was amazed to find that they +were one and all totally indifferent about terms; they all assured him +that they were ready to take any part whatever, and merely wished to +assist in the representation of a piece so new and so original as his +was said to be. They all named a price which was excessively low, and +assured him that they did so only for form's sake; positively refusing +to accept any thing more, and leaving it to Langhetti either to take +them on their own terms or to reject them. He, of course, could not +reject aid so powerful and so unexpected. + +At length, he had his rehearsal. After various trials he invited +representatives of the London Press to be present at the last. They +all came, and all without exception wrote the most glowing accounts for +their respective journals. + +"I don't know how it is," said he to Beatrice. "Every thing has come +into my hands. I don't understand it. It seems to me exactly as if there +was some powerful, unseen hand assisting me; some one who secretly put +every thing in my way, who paid these artists first and then sent them +to me, and influenced all the journals in my favor. I should be sure +of this if it were not a more incredible thing than the actual result +itself. As it is I am simply perplexed and bewildered. It is a thing +that is without parallel. I have a company such as no one has ever +before gathered together on one stage. I have eminent prima donnas who +are quite willing to sing second and third parts without caring what I +pay them, or whether I pay them or not. I know the musical world. All I +can say is that the thing is unexampled, and I can not comprehend it. +I have tried to find out from some of them what it all means, but they +give me no satisfaction. At any rate, my Bicina, you will make your +_debut_ under the most favorable circumstances. You saw how they admired +your voice at the rehearsal. The world shall admire it still more at +your first performance." + +Langhetti was puzzled, and, as he said, bewildered, but he did not +slacken a single effort to make his opera successful. His exertions were +as unremitting as though he were still struggling against difficulties. +After all that had been done for him he knew very well that he was sure +of a good house, yet he worked as hard as though his audience was very +uncertain. + +At length the appointed evening came. Langhetti had certainly expected +a good house from those happy accidents which had given him the +co-operation of the entire musical world and of the press. Yet when he +looked out and saw the house that waited for the rising of the curtain +he was overwhelmed. + +When he thus looked out it was long before the time. A great murmur had +attracted his attention. He saw the house crammed in every part. All the +boxes were filled. In the pit was a vast congregation of gentlemen and +ladies, the very galleries were thronged. + +The wonder that had all along filled him was now greater than ever. +He well knew under what circumstances even an ordinarily good house is +collected together. There must either be undoubted fame in the prima +donna, or else the most wide-spread and comprehensive efforts on the +part of a skillful impresario. His efforts had been great, but not such +as to insure any thing like this. To account for the prodigious crowd +which filled every part of the large edifice was simply impossible. + +He did not attempt to account for it. He accepted the situation, and +prepared for the performance. + +What sort of an idea that audience may have had of the "Prometheus" of +Langhetti need hardly be conjectured. They had heard of it as a novelty. +They had heard that the company was the best ever collected at one time, +and that the prima donna was a prodigy of genius. That was enough for +them. They waited in a state of expectation which was so high-pitched +that it would have proved disastrous in the extreme to any piece, or any +singer who should have proved to be in the slightest degree inferior. +Consummate excellence alone in every part could now save the piece from +ruin. This Langhetti felt; but he was calm, for he had confidence in his +work and in his company. Most of all, he had confidence in Beatrice. + +At last the curtain rose. + +The scene was such a one as had never before been represented. A blaze +of dazzling light filled the stage, and before it stood seven forms, +representing the seven archangels. They began one of the sublimest +strains ever heard. Each of these singers had in some way won eminence. +They had thrown themselves into this work. The music which had been +given to them had produced an exalted effect upon their own hearts, and +now they rendered forth that grand "Chorus of Angels" which those who +heard the "Prometheus" have never forgotten. The words resembled, in +some measure, the opening song in Goethe's "Faust," but the music was +Langhetti's. + +The effect of this magnificent opening was wonderful. The audience sat +spell-bound--hushed into stillness by those transcendent harmonies which +seemed like the very song of the angels themselves; like that "new song" +which is spoken of in Revelation. The grandeur of Handel's stupendous +chords was renewed, and every one present felt its power. + +Then came the second scene. Prometheus lay suffering. The ocean nymphs +were around him, sympathizing with his woes. The sufferer lay chained to +a bleak rock in the summit of frosty Caucasus. Far and wide extended +an expanse of ice. In the distance arose a vast world of snow-coveted +peaks. In front was a _mer de glace_, which extended all along the +stage. + +Prometheus addressed all nature--"the divine ether, the swift-winged +winds, Earth the All-mother, and the infinite laughter of the ocean +waves." The thoughts were those of Aeschylus, expressed by the music of +Langhetti. + +The ocean nymphs bewailed him in a song of mournful sweetness, whose +indescribable pathos touched every heart. It was the intensity of +sympathy--sympathy so profound that it became anguish, for the heart +that felt it had identified itself with the heart of the sufferer. + +Then followed an extraordinary strain. It was the Voice of Universal +Nature, animate and inanimate, mourning over the agony of the God of +Love. In that strain was heard the voice of man, the sighing of the +winds, the moaning of the sea, the murmur of the trees, the wail of bird +and beast, all blending in extraordinary unison, and all speaking of +woe. + +And now a third scene opened. It was Athene. Athene represented Wisdom +or Human Understanding, by which the God of Vengeance is dethroned, and +gives place to the eternal rule of the God of Love. To but few of those +present could this idea of Langhetti's be intelligible. The most of them +merely regarded the fable and its music, without looking for any meaning +beneath the surface. + +To these, and to all, the appearance of Beatrice was like a new +revelation. She came forward and stood in the costume which the +Greek has given to Athene, but in her hand she held the olive--her +emblem--instead of the spear. From beneath her helmet her dark locks +flowed down and were wreathed in thick waves that clustered heavily +about her head. + +Here, as Athene, the pure classical contour of Beatrice's features +appeared in marvelous beauty--faultless in their perfect Grecian mould. +Her large, dark eyes looked with a certain solemn meaning out upon the +vast audience. Her whole face was refined and sublimed by the thought +that was within her. In her artistic nature she had appropriated this +character to herself so thoroughly, that, as she stood there, she felt +herself to be in reality all that she represented. The spectators +caught the same feeling from her. Yet so marvelous was her beauty, so +astonishing was the perfection of her form and feature, so accurate +was the living representation of the ideal goddess that the whole +vast audience after one glance burst forth into pealing thunders of +spontaneous and irresistible applause. + +Beatrice had opened her mouth to begin, but as that thunder of +admiration arose she fell back a pace. Was it the applause that had +overawed her? + +Her eyes were fixed on one spot at the extreme right of the pit. A face +was there which enchained her. A face, pale, sad, mournful, with dark +eyes fixed on hers in steadfast despair. + +Beatrice faltered and fell back, but it was not at the roar of applause. +It was that face--the one face among three thousand before her, the +one, the only one that she saw. Ah, how in that moment all the past came +rushing before her--the Indian Ocean, the Malay pirate, where that face +first appeared, the Atlantic, the shipwreck, the long sail over the seas +in the boat, the African isle! + +She stood so long in silence that the spectators wondered. + +Suddenly the face which had so transfixed her sank down. He was gone, or +he had hid himself. Was it because he knew that he was the cause of her +silence? + +The face disappeared, and the spell was broken. Langhetti stood at the +side-scenes, watching with deep agitation the silence of Beatrice. He +was on the point of taking the desperate step of going forward when he +saw that she had regained her composure. + +She regained it, and moved a step forward with such calm serenity that +no one could have suspected her of having lost it. She began to sing. In +an opera words are nothing--music is all in all. It is sufficient if the +words express, even in a feeble and general way, the ideas which breathe +and burn in the music. Thus it was with the words in the opening song of +Beatrice. + +But the music! What language can describe it? + +Upon this all the richest stores of Langhetti's genius had been +lavished. Into this all the soul of Beatrice was thrown with sublime +self-forgetfulness. She ceased to be herself. Before the audience she +was Athene. + +Her voice, always marvelously rich and full, was now grander and more +capacious than ever. It poured forth a full stream of matchless harmony +that carried all the audience captive. Strong, soaring, penetrating, it +rose easily to the highest notes, and flung them forth with a lavish, +and at the same time far-reaching power that penetrated every heart, and +thrilled all who heard it. Roused to the highest enthusiasm by the sight +of that vast assemblage, Beatrice gave herself up to the intoxication of +the hour. She threw herself into the spirit of the piece; she took deep +into her heart the thought of Langhetti, and uttered it forth to the +listeners with harmonies that were almost divine--such harmonies as they +had never before heard. + +There was the silence of death as she sang. Her voice stilled all other +sounds. Each listener seemed almost afraid to breathe. Some looked at +one another in amazement, but most of them sat motionless, with their +heads stretched forward, unconscious of any thing except that one voice. + +[Illustration: "THE APPEARANCE OF BEATRICE WAS LIKE A NEW REVELATION."] + +At last it ceased. For a moment there was a pause. Then there arose a +deep, low thunder of applause that deepened and intensified itself every +moment till at last it rose on high in one sublime outburst, a frenzy +of acclamation, such as is heard not seldom, but, once heard, is never +forgotten. + +Beatrice was called out. She came, and retired. Again and again she +was called. Flowers were showered down in heaps at her feet. The +acclamations went on, and only ceased through the consciousness that +more was yet to come. The piece went on. It was one long triumph. At +last it ended. Beatrice had been loaded with honors. Langhetti was +called out and welcomed with almost equal enthusiasm. His eyes filled +with tears of joy as he received this well-merited tribute to his +genius. He and Beatrice stood on the stage at the same time. Flowers +were flung at him. He took them and laid them at the feet of Beatrice. + +At this a louder roar of acclamation arose. It increased and deepened, +and the two who stood there felt overwhelmed by the tremendous applause. + +So ended the first representation of the "Prometheus!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +THE SECRET. + +The triumph of Beatrice continued. The daily papers were filled with +accounts of the new singer. She had come suddenly before them, and had +at one bound reached the highest eminence. She had eclipsed all the +popular favorites. Her sublime strains, her glorious enthusiasm, her +marvelous voice, her perfect beauty, all kindled the popular heart. The +people forgave her for not having an Italian name, since she had one +which was so aristocratic. Her whole appearance showed that she +was something very different from the common order of artistes, as +different, in fact, as the "Prometheus" was from the common order of +operas. For here in the "Prometheus" there were no endless iterations +of the one theme of love, no perpetual repetitions of the same rhyme of +_amore_ and _cuore_, or _amor'_ and _cuor'_; but rather the effort of +the soul after sublimer mysteries. The "Prometheus" sought to solve the +problem of life and of human suffering. Its divine sentiments brought +hope and consolation. The great singer rose to the altitude of a sibyl; +she uttered inspirations; she herself was inspired. + +As she stood with her grand Grecian beauty, her pure classic features, +she looked as beautiful as a statue, and as ideal and passionless. In +one sense she could never be a popular favorite. She had no archness +or coquetry like some, no voluptuousness like others, no arts to win +applause like others. Still she stood up and sang as one who believed +that this was the highest mission of humanity, to utter divine truth to +human ears. She sang loftily, thrillingly, as an angel might sing, and +those who saw her revered her while they listened. + +And thus it was that the fame of this new singer went quickly +through England, and foreign journals spoke of it half-wonderingly, +half-cynically, as usual; for Continentals never have any faith in +English art, or in the power which any Englishman may have to interpret +art. The leading French journals conjectured that the "Prometheus" was +of a religious character, and therefore Puritanical; and consequently +for that reason was popular. They amused themselves with the idea of +a Puritanical opera, declared that the English wished to Protestantize +music, and suggested "Calvin" or "The Sabbath" as good subjects for this +new and entirely English class of operas. + +But soon the correspondents of some of the Continental papers began to +write glowing accounts of the piece, and to put Langhetti in the same +class with Handel. He was an Italian, they said, but in this case +he united Italian grace and versatility with German solemnity and +melancholy. They declared that he was the greatest of living composers, +and promised for him a great reputation. + +Night after night the representation of the "Prometheus" went on with +undiminished success; and with a larger and profounder appreciation of +its meaning among the better class of minds. Langhetti began to show a +stronger and fuller confidence in the success of his piece than he had +yet dared to evince. Yet now its success seemed assured. What more could +he wish? + +September came on, and every succeeding night only made the success more +marked. One day Langhetti was with Beatrice at the theatre, and they +were talking of many things. There seemed to be something on his mind, +for he spoke in an abstracted manner. Beatrice noticed this at last, and +mentioned it. + +He was at first very mysterious. "It must be that secret of yours which +you will not tell me," said she. "You said once before that it was +connected with me, and that you would tell it to me when the time came. +Has not the time come yet?" + +"Not yet," answered Langhetti. + +"When will it come?" + +"I don't know." + +"And will you keep it secret always?" + +"Perhaps not." + +"You speak undecidedly." + +"I am undecided." + +"Why not decide now to tell it?" pleaded Beatrice. "Why should I not +know it? Surely I have gone through enough suffering to bear this, even +if it bring something additional." + +Langhetti looked at her long and doubtfully. + +"You hesitate," said she. + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"It is of too much importance." + +"That is all the more reason why I should know it. Would it crush me if +I knew it?" + +"I don't know. It might." + +"Then let me be crushed." + +Langhetti sighed. + +"Is it something that you know for certain, or is it only conjecture?" + +"Neither," said he, "but half-way between the two." + +Beatrice looked earnestly at him for some time. Then she put her head +nearer to his and spoke in a solemn whisper. + +"It is about my mother!" + +Langhetti looked at her with a startled expression. + +"Is it not?" + +He bowed his head. + +"It is--it is. And if so, I implore--I conjure you to tell me. Look--I +am calm. Think--I am strong. I am not one who can be cast down merely by +bad news." + +"I may tell you soon." + +"Say you will." + +"I will," said Langhetti, after a struggle. + +"When?" + +"Soon." + +"Why not to-morrow?" + +"That is too soon; you are impatient." + +"Of course I am," said Beatrice. "Ought I not to be so? Have you not +said that this concerns me? and is not all my imagination aroused in the +endeavor to form a conjecture as to what it may be?" + +She spoke so earnestly that Langhetti was moved, and looked still more +undecided. + +"When will you tell me?" + +"Soon, perhaps," he replied, with some hesitation. + +"Why not now?" + +"Oh no, I must assure myself first about some things." + +"To-morrow, then." + +He hesitated. + +"Yes," said she; "it must be to-morrow. If you do not, I shall +think that you have little or no confidence in me. I shall expect it +to-morrow." + +Langhetti was silent. + +"I shall expect it to-morrow," repeated Beatrice. + +Langhetti still continued silent. + +"Oh, very well; silence gives consent!" said she, in a lively tone. + +"I have not consented." + +"Yes you have, by your silence." + +"I was deliberating." + +"I asked you twice, and you did not refuse; surely that means consent." + +"I do not say so," said Langhetti, earnestly. + +"But you will do so." + +"Do not be so certain." + +"Yes, I will be certain; and if you do not tell me you will very deeply +disappoint me." + +"In telling you I could only give you sorrow." + +"Sorrow or joy, whatever it is, I can bear it so long as I know this. +You will not suppose that I am actuated by simple feminine curiosity. +You know me better. This secret is one which subjects me to the tortures +of suspense, and I am anxious to have them removed." + +"The removal will be worse than the suspense." + +"That is impossible." + +"You would not say so if you knew what it was." + +"Tell me, then." + +"That is what I fear to do." + +"Do you fear for me, or for some other person?" + +"Only for you." + +"Do not fear for me, then, I beseech you; for it is not only my desire, +but my prayer, that I may know this." + +Langhetti seemed to be in deep perplexity. Whatever this secret was with +which he was so troubled he seemed afraid to tell it to Beatrice, either +from fear that it might not be any thing in itself or result in any +thing, or, as seemed more probable, lest it might too greatly affect +her. This last was the motive which appeared to influence him most +strongly. In either case, the secret of which he spoke must have been +one of a highly important character, affecting most deeply the life and +fortunes of Beatrice herself. She had formed her own ideas and her own +expectations about it, and this made her all the more urgent, and even +peremptory, in her demand. In fact, things had come to such a point that +Langhetti found himself no longer able to refuse, and now only sought +how to postpone his divulgence of his secret. + +Yet even this Beatrice combated, and would listen to no later +postponement than the morrow. + +At length, after long resistance to her demand, Langhetti assented, and +promised on the morrow to tell her what it was that he had meant by his +secret. + +For, as she gathered from his conversation, it was something that he had +first discovered in Hong Kong, and had never since forgotten, but had +tried to make it certain. His efforts had thus far been useless, and +he did not wish to tell her till he could bring proof. That proof, +unfortunately, he was not able to find, and he could only tell his +conjectures. + +It was for these, then, that Beatrice waited in anxious expectation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +THE CAB. + +That evening Beatrice's performance had been greeted with louder +applause than usual, and, what was more gratifying to one like her, the +effective passages had been listened to with a stillness which spoke +more loudly than the loudest applause of the deep interest of the +audience. + +Langhetti had almost always driven home with her, but on this occasion +he had excused himself on account of some business in the theatre which +required his attention. + +On going out Beatrice could not find the cabman whom she had employed. +After looking around for him a long time she found that he had gone. +She was surprised and vexed. At the same time she could not account for +this, but thought that perhaps he had been drinking and had forgotten +all about her. On making this discovery she was on the point of going +back and telling Langhetti, but a cabman followed her persistently, +promising to take her wherever she wished, and she thought that it would +be foolish to trouble Langhetti about so small a matter; so that at +length she decided to employ the persevering cabman, thinking that he +could take her to her lodgings as well as any body else. + +The cabman started off at a rapid pace, and went on through street after +street, while Beatrice sat thinking of the evening's performance. + +At last it seemed to her that she had been a much longer time than +usual, and she began to fear that the cabman had lost his way. She +looked out. They were going along the upper part of Oxford Street, a +great distance from where she lived. She instantly tried to draw down +the window so as to attract the cabman's attention, but could not move +it. She tried the other, but all were fast and would not stir. She +rapped at the glass to make him hear, but he took no notice. Then she +tried to open the door, but could not do so from the inside. + +She sat down and thought. What could be the meaning of this? They were +now going at a much faster rate than is common in the streets of London, +but where she was going she could not conjecture. + +She was not afraid. Her chief feeling was one of indignation. Either the +cabman was drunk--or what? Could he have been hired to carry her off to +her enemies? Was she betrayed? + +This thought flashed like lightning through her mind. + +She was not one who would sink down into inaction at the sudden onset of +terror. Her chief feeling now was one of indignation at the audacity of +such an attempt. Obeying the first impulse that seized her, she took the +solid roll of music which she carried with her and dashed it against the +front window so violently that she broke it in pieces. Then she caught +the driver by the sleeve and ordered him to stop. + +"All right," said the driver, and, turning a corner, he whipped up his +horses, and they galloped on faster than ever. + +"If you don't stop I'll call for help!" cried Beatrice. + +The driver's only answer was a fresh application of the whip. + +The street up which they turned was narrow, and as it had only +dwelling-houses it was not so brightly lighted as Oxford Street. There +were but few foot-passengers on the sidewalk. As it was now about +midnight, most of the lights were out, and the gas-lamps were the chief +means of illumination. + +Yet there was a chance that the police might save her. With this hope +she dashed her music scroll against the windows on each side of the cab +and shivered them to atoms, calling at the top of her voice for help. +The swift rush of the cab and the sound of a woman's voice shouting +for aid aroused the police. They started forward. But the horses were +rushing so swiftly that no one dared to touch them. The driver seemed +to them to have lost control. They thought that the horses were running +away, and that those within the cab were frightened. + +Away they went through street after street, and Beatrice never ceased +to call. The excitement which was created by the runaway horses did not +abate, and at length when the driver stopped a policeman hurried up. + +The house before which the cab stopped was a plain two-story one, in a +quiet-looking street. A light shone from the front-parlor window. As the +cab drew up the door opened and a man came out. + +Beatrice saw the policeman. + +"Help!" she cried; "I implore help. This wretch is carrying me away." + +"What's this?" growled the policeman. + +At this the man that had come out of the house hurried forward. + +"Have you found her?" exclaimed a well-known voice. "Oh, my child! How +could you leave your father's roof!" + +It was John Potts. + +Beatrice was silent for a moment in utter amazement. Yet she made a +violent effort against her despair. + +"You have no control over me," said she, bitterly. "I am of age. And +you," said she to the policeman, "I demand your help. I put myself under +your protection, and order you either to take that man in charge or to +let me go to my home." + +"Oh, my daughter!" cried Potts. "Will you still be relentless?" + +"Help me!" cried Beatrice, and she opened the cab-door. + +"The policeman can do nothing," said Potts. "You are not of age. He will +not dare to take you from me." + +"I implore you," cried Beatrice, "save me from this man. Take me to the +police-station--any where rather than leave me here!" + +"You can not," said Potts to the bewildered policeman. "Listen. She +is my daughter and under age. She ran away with a strolling Italian +vagabond, with whom she is leading an improper life. I have got her +back." + +"It's false!" cried Beatrice, vehemently. "I fled from this man's house +because I feared his violence." + +"That is an idle story," said Potts. + +"Save me!" cried Beatrice. + +"I don't know what to do--I suppose I've got to take you to the station, +at any rate," said the policeman, hesitatingly. + +"Well," said Potts to Beatrice, "if you do go to the station-house +you'll have to be handed back to me. You are under age." + +"It's false!" cried Beatrice. "I am twenty." + +"No, you are not more than seventeen." + +"Langhetti can prove that I am twenty." + +"How? I have documents, and a father's word will be believed before a +paramour's." + +This taunt stung Beatrice to the soul. + +"As to your charge about my cruelty I can prove to the world that you +lived in splendor in Brandon Hall. Every one of the servants can testify +to this. Your morose disposition made you keep by yourself. You always +treated your father with indifference, and finally ran away with a man +who unfortunately had won your affections in Hong Kong." + +"You well know the reason why I left your roof," replied Beatrice, with +calm and severe dignity. "Your foul aspersions upon my character are +unworthy of notice." + +"And what shall I say about your aspersions on my character?" cried +Potts, in a loud, rude voice, hoping by a sort of vulgar self-assertion +to brow-beat Beatrice. "Do you remember the names you called me and your +threats against me? When all this is brought out in the police court, +they will see what kind of a daughter you have been." + +"You will be the last one who will dare to let it be brought into a +police court." + +"And why? Those absurd charges of yours are worthless. Have you any +proof?" he continued, with a sneer, "or has your paramour any?" + +"Take me away," said Beatrice to the policeman. + +"Wait!" exclaimed Potts; "you are going, and I will go to reclaim you. +The law will give you back to me; for I will prove that you are under +age, and I have never treated you with any thing except kindness. Now +the law can do nothing since you are mine. But as you are so young and +inexperienced I'll tell you what will happen. + +"The newspapers," he continued, after a pause, "will be full of your +story. They will print what I shall prove to be true--that you had an +intractable disposition--that you had formed a guilty attachment for a +drum-major at Hong Kong--that you ran away with him, lived for a while +at Holby, and then went with your paramour to London. If you had only +married him you would have been out of my power; but you don't pretend +to be married. You don't call yourself Langhetti, but have taken another +name, which the sharp newspaper reporters will hint was given you by +some other one of your numerous favorites. They will declare that you +love every man but your own father; and you--you who played the goddess +on the stage and sang about Truth and Religion will be known all over +England and all over Europe too as the vilest of the vile." + +[Illustration: "Oh, my daughter!" cried Potts, "will you still be +relentless?"] + +At this tremendous menace Beatrice's resolution was shattered to pieces. +That this would be so she well knew. To escape from Potts was to have +herself made infamous publicly under the sanction of the law, and then, +by that same law to be handed back to him. At least whether it was so or +not, she thought so. There was no help--no friend. + +"Go," said Potts; "leave me now and you become covered with infamy. Who +would believe your story?" + +Beatrice was silent, her slender frame was rent by emotion. + +"O God!" she groaned--but in her deep despair she could not find +thoughts even for prayers. + +"You may go, policeman," said Potts; "my daughter will come with me." + +"Faith and I'm glad! It's the best thing for her;" and the policeman, +much relieved, returned to his beat. + +"Some of you'll have to pay for them winders," said the cabman. + +"All right," answered Potts, quietly. + +"There is your home for to-night, at any rate," said Potts, pointing to +the house. "I don't think you have any chance left. You had better go +in." + +His tone was one full of bitter taunt. Scarce conscious, with her brain +reeling, and her limbs trembling, Beatrice entered the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +DISCOVERIES. + +The next morning after Beatrice's last performance Langhetti determined +to fulfill his promise and tell her that secret which she had been so +anxious to know. On entering into his parlor he saw a letter lying on +the table addressed to him. It bore no postage stamp, or post-office +mark. + +He opened it and read the following: + +"London, September 5,1849. + +"SIGNORE,--Cigole, the betrayer and intended assassin of your late +father, is now in London. You can find out about him by inquiring of +Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street. As a traitor to the Carbonari, you +will know that it is your duty to punish him, even if your filial piety +is not strong enough to avenge a father's wrongs. + +"CARBONARO." + +Langhetti read this several times. Then he called for his landlord. + +"Who left this letter?" he asked. + +"A young man." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"No." + +"What did he look like?" + +"He looked like a counting-house clerk more than any thing." + +"When was it left?" + +"About six o'clock this morning." + +Langhetti read it over and over. The news that it contained filled his +mind. It was not yet ten o'clock. He would not take any breakfast, but +went out at once, jumped into a cab, and drove off to Red Lion Street. + +Giovanni Cavallo's office was in a low, dingy building, with a dark, +narrow doorway. It was one of those numerous establishments conducted +and supported by foreigners whose particular business it is not easy +to conjecture. The building was full of offices, but this was on the +ground-floor. + +Langhetti entered, and found the interior as dingy as the exterior. +There was a table in the middle of the room. Beyond this was a door +which opened into a back-room. + +Only one person was here--a small, bright-eyed man, with thick Vandyke +beard and sinewy though small frame. Langhetti took off his hat and +bowed. + +"I wish to see Signore Cavallo," said he, in Italian. + +"I am Signore Cavallo," answered the other, blandly. + +Langhetti made a peculiar motion with his left arm. The keen eye of +the other noticed it in an instant. He returned a gesture of a similar +character. Langhetti and he then exchanged some more secret signs. At +last Langhetti made one which caused the other to start, and to bow with +deep respect. + +"I did not know," said he, in a low voice, "that any of the Interior +Council ever came to London.... But come in here," and he led the way +into the inner room, the door of which he locked very mysteriously. + +A long conference followed, the details of which would only be tedious. +At the close Cavallo said, "There is some life in us yet, and what life +we have left shall be spent in trapping that miscreant. Italy shall be +avenged on one of her traitors, at any rate." + +"You will write as I told you, and let me know?" + +"Most faithfully." + +Langhetti departed, satisfied with the result of this interview. What +surprised him most was the letter. The writer must have been one who +had been acquainted with his past life. He was amazed to find any one +denouncing Cigole to him, but finally concluded that it must be some old +Carbonaro, exiled through the afflictions which had befallen that famous +society, and cherishing in his exile the bitter resentment which only +exiles can feel. + +Cavallo himself had known Cigole for years, but had no idea whatever of +his early career. Cigole had no suspicion that Cavallo had any thing to +do with the Carbonari. His firm were general agents, who did business +of a miscellaneous character, now commission, now banking, and now +shipping; and in various ways they had had dealings with this man, and +kept up an irregular correspondence with him. + +This letter had excited afresh within his ardent and impetuous nature +all the remembrances of early wrongs. Gentle though he was, and pure in +heart, and elevated in all his aspirations, he yet was in all respects a +true child of the South, and his passionate nature was roused to a storm +by this prospect of just retaliation. All the lofty doctrines with which +he might console others were of no avail here in giving him calm. He had +never voluntarily pursued Cigole; but now, since this villain had been +presented to him, he could not turn aside from what he considered the +holy duty of avenging a father's wrongs. + +He saw that for the present every thing would have to give way to this. +He determined at once to suspend the representation of the "Prometheus," +even though it was at the height of its popularity and in the full tide +of its success. He determined to send Beatrice under his sister's care, +and to devote himself now altogether to the pursuit of Cigole, even if +he had to follow him to the world's end. The search after him might +not be long after all, for Cavallo felt sanguine of speedy success, and +assured him that the traitor was in his power, and that the Carbonari in +London were sufficiently numerous to seize him and send him to whatever +punishment might be deemed most fitting. + +With such plans and purposes Langhetti went to visit Beatrice, wondering +how she would receive the intelligence of his new purpose. + +It was two o'clock in the afternoon before he reached her lodgings. On +going up he rapped. A servant came, and on seeing him looked frightened. + +[Illustration: "WHAT LIFE WE HAVE LEFT SHALL BE SPENT IN TRAPPING THAT +MISCREANT."] + +"Is Miss Despard in?" + +The servant said nothing, but ran off. Langhetti stood waiting in +surprise; but in a short time the landlady came. She had a troubled +look, and did not even return his salutation. + +"Is Miss Despard in?" + +"She is not here, Sir." + +"Not here!" + +"No, Sir. I'm frightened. There was a man here early this morning, too." + +"A man here. What for?" + +"Why, to ask after her." + +"And did he see her?" + +"She wasn't here." + +"Wasn't here! What do you mean?" + +"She didn't come home at all last night. I waited up for her till four." + +"Didn't come home!" cried Langhetti, as an awful fear came over him. + +"No, Sir." + +"Do you mean to tell me that she didn't come home at her usual hour?" + +"No, Sir--not at all; and as I was saying, I sat up nearly all night." + +"Heavens!" cried Langhetti, in bewilderment. "What is the meaning of +this? But take me to her room. Let me see with my own eyes." + +The landlady led the way up, and Langhetti followed anxiously. The room +were empty. Every thing remained just as she had left it. Her music was +lying loosely around. The landlady said that she had touched nothing. + +Langhetti asked about the man who had called in the morning. The +landlady could tell nothing about him, except that he was a gentleman +with dark hair, and very stern eyes that terrified her. He seemed to be +very angry or very terrible in some way about Beatrice. + +Who could this be? thought Langhetti. The landlady did not know his +name. Some one was certainly interesting herself very singularly about +Cigole, and some one else, or else the same person, was very much +interested about Beatrice. For a moment he thought it might be Despard. +This, however, did not seem probable, as Despard would have written him +if he were coming to town. + +Deeply perplexed, and almost in despair, Langhetti left the house and +drove home, thinking on the way what ought to be done. He thought he +would wait till evening, and perhaps she would appear. He did thus +wait, and in a fever of excitement and suspense, but on going to the +lodging-house again there was nothing more known about her. + +Leaving this he drove to the police-office. It seemed to him now that +she must have been foully dealt with in some way. He could think of no +one but Potts; yet how Potts could manage it was a mystery. That mystery +he himself could not hope to unravel. The police might. With that +confidence in the police which is common to all Continentals he went +and made known his troubles. The officials at once promised to make +inquiries, and told him to call on the following evening. + +The next evening he went there. The policeman was present who had been +at the place when Potts met Beatrice. He told the whole story--the +horses running furiously, the screams from the cab, and the appeal of +Beatrice for help, together with her final acquiescence in the will of +her father. + +Langhetti was overwhelmed. The officials evidently believed that Potts +was an injured father, and showed some coldness to Langhetti. + +"He is her father; what better could she do?" asked one. + +"Any thing would be better," said Langhetti, mournfully. "He is a +villain so remorseless that she had to fly. Some friends received her. +She went to get her own living since she is of age. Can nothing be done +to rescue her?" + +"Well, she might begin a lawsuit; if she really is of age he can not +hold her. But she had much better stay with him." + +Such were the opinions of the officials. They courteously granted +permission to Langhetti to take the policeman to the house. + +On knocking an old woman came to the door. In answer to his inquiries +she stated that a gentleman had been living there three weeks, but that +on the arrival of his daughter he had gone home. + +"When did he leave?" + +"Yesterday morning." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THEY MEET AGAIN. + +At four o'clock on the morning of Beatrice's capture Brandon was roused +by a rap at his bedroom door. He rose at once, and slipping on his +dressing-gown, opened it. A man entered. + +"Well?" said Brandon. + +"Something has happened." + +"What?" + +"She didn't get home last night. The landlady is sitting up for her, and +is terribly frightened." + +"Did you make any inquiries?" + +"No, Sir; I came straight here in obedience to your directions." + +"Is that all you know?" + +"All." + +"Very well," said Brandon, calmly, "you may go." + +The man retired. Brandon sat down and buried his head in his hands. Such +news as this was sufficient to overwhelm any one. The man knew nothing +more than this, that she had not returned home and that the landlady was +frightened. In his opinion only one of two things could have happened: +either Langhetti had taken her somewhere, or she had been abducted. + +A thousand fancies followed one another in quick succession. It was too +early as yet to go forth to make inquiries; and he therefore was forced +to sit still and form conjectures as to what ought to be done in case +his conjecture might be true. Sitting there, he took a rapid survey of +all the possibilities of the occasion, and laid his plans accordingly. + +Brandon had feared some calamity, and with this fear had arranged +to have some one in the house who might give him information. The +information which he most dreaded had come; it had come, too, in the +midst of a time of triumph, when she had become one of the supreme +singers of the age, and had gained all that her warmest admirer might +desire for her. + +If she had not been foully dealt with she must have gone with Langhetti. +But if so--where--and why? What possible reason might Langhetti have for +taking her away? This conjecture was impossible. + +Yet if this was impossible, and if she had not gone with Langhetti, with +whom could she have gone? If not a friend, then it must have been with +an enemy. But with what enemy? There was only one. + +He thought of Potts. He knew that this wretch was capable of any +villainy, and would not hesitate at any thing to regain possession of +the one who had fled from him. Why he should wish to take the trouble +to regain possession of her, except out of pure villainy, he could not +imagine. + +With such thoughts as these the time passed heavily. Six o'clock at last +came, and he set out for the purpose of making inquiries. He went first +to the theatre. Here, after some trouble, he found those who had the +place in charge, and, by questioning them, he learned that Beatrice had +left by herself in a cab for her home, and that Langhetti had remained +some time later. He then went to Beatrice's lodgings to question the +landlady. From there he went to Langhetti's lodgings, and found that +Langhetti had come home about one o'clock and was not yet up. + +Beatrice, therefore, had left by herself; and had not gone any where +with Langhetti. She had not returned home. It seemed to him most +probable that either voluntarily or involuntarily she had come under +the control of Potts. What to do under the circumstances was now the +question. + +One course seemed to him the most direct and certain; namely, to go +up to Brandon at once and make inquiries there. From the letters which +Philips had sent he had an idea of the doings of Potts. Other sources +of information had also been secured. It was not his business to do any +thing more than to see that Beatrice should fall into no harm. + +By ten o'clock he had acted upon this idea, and was at the railway +station to take the express train. He reached Brandon village about +dusk. He went to the inn in his usual disguise as Mr. Smithers, and sent +up to the Hall for Mr. Potts. + +Potts was not there. He then sent for Philips. After some delay Philips +came. His usual timidity was now if possible still more marked, and he +was at first too embarrassed to speak. + +"Where is Potts?" asked Brandon, abruptly. + +"In London, Sir." + +"He has been there about three weeks, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"So you wrote me. You thought when he went that he was going to hunt up +his daughter." + +"So I conjectured." + +"And he hasn't got back yet?" + +"Not yet." + +"Has he written any word?" + +"None that I know of." + +"Did you hear any of them say why he went to get her?" + +"Not particularly; but I guessed from what they said that he was afraid +of having her at large." + +"Afraid? Why?" + +"Because she knew some secret of theirs." + +"Secret! What secret?" asked Brandon. + +"You know, Sir, I suppose," said Philips, meekly. + +Brandon had carried Asgeelo with him, as he was often in the habit of +doing on his journeys. After his interview with Philips he stood outside +on the veranda of the village inn for some time, and then went around +through the village, stopping at a number of houses. Whatever it was +that he was engaged in, it occupied him for several hours, and he did +not get back to the inn till midnight. + +On the following morning he sent up to the Hall, but Potts had not +yet returned. Philips came to tell him that he had just received a +telegraphic dispatch informing him that Potts would be back that day +about one o'clock. This intelligence at last seemed to promise something +definite. + +Brandon found enough to occupy him during the morning among the people +of the neighborhood. He seemed to know every body, and had something +to say to every one. Yet no one looked at him or spoke to him unless +he took the initiative. Last of all, he went to the tailor's, where he +spent an hour. + +Asgeelo had been left at the inn, and sat there upon a bench outside, +apparently idle and aimless. At one o'clock Brandon returned and walked +up and down the veranda. + +In about half an hour his attention was attracted by the sound of +wheels. It was Potts's barouche, which came rapidly up the road. In it +was Potts and a young lady. + +Brandon stood outside of the veranda, on the steps, in such a position +as to be most conspicuous, and waited there till the carriage should +reach the place. Did his heart beat faster as he recognized that form, +as he marked the settled despair which had gathered over that young +face--a face that had the fixed and unalterable wretchedness which marks +the ideal face of the Mater Dolorosa? + +Brandon stood in such a way that Potts could not help seeing him. He +waved his arm, and Potts stopped the carriage at once. + +Potts was seated on the front seat, and Beatrice on the back one. +Brandon walked up to the carriage and touched his hat. + +"Mr. Smithers!" cried Potts, with his usual volubility. "Dear me, Sir. +This is really a most unexpected pleasure, Sir." + +While Potts spoke Brandon looked steadily at Beatrice, who cast upon +him a look of wonder. She then sank back in her seat; but her eyes were +still fastened on his as though fascinated. Then, beneath the marble +whiteness of her face a faint tinge appeared, a warm flush, that was the +sign of hope rising from despair. In her eyes there gleamed the flash of +recognition; for in that glance each had made known all its soul to the +other. In her mind there was no perplexing question as to how or why he +came here, or wherefore he wore that disguise; the one thought that she +had was the consciousness that He was here--here before her. + +All this took place in an instant, and Potts, who was talking, did not +notice the hurried glance; or if he did, saw in it nothing but a casual +look cast by one stranger upon another. + +"I arrived here yesterday," said Brandon. "I wished to see you about a +matter of very little importance perhaps to you, but it is one which is +of interest to me. But I am detaining you. By-the-way, I am somewhat in +a hurry, and if this lady will excuse me I will drive up with you to the +Hall, so as to lose no time." + +"Delighted, Sir, delighted!" cried Potts. "Allow me, Mr. Smithers, to +introduce you to my daughter." + +Brandon held out his hand. Beatrice held out hers. It was cold as ice, +but the fierce thrill that shot through her frame at the touch of his +feverish hand brought with it such an ecstasy that Beatrice thought it +was worth while to have undergone the horror of the past twenty-four +hours for the joy of this one moment. + +Brandon stepped into the carriage and seated himself by her side. Potts +sat opposite. He touched her. He could hear her breathing. How many +months had passed since they sat so near together! What sorrows had they +not endured! Now they were side by side, and for a moment they forgot +that their bitterest enemy sat before them. + +There, before them, was the man who was not only a deadly enemy to each, +but who made it impossible for them to be more to one another than they +now were. Yet for a time they forgot this in the joy of the ecstatic +meeting. At the gate Potts got out and excused himself to Brandon, +saying that he would be up directly. + +"Entertain this gentleman till I come," said he to Beatrice, "for he is +a great friend of mine." + +Beatrice said nothing, for the simple reason that she could not speak. + +They drove on. Oh, joy! that baleful presence was for a moment removed. +The driver saw nothing as he drove under the overarching elms--the elms +under which Brandon had sported in his boyhood. He saw not the long, +fervid glance that they cast at one another, in which each seemed to +absorb all the being of the other; he saw not the close clasped hands +with which they clung to one another now as though they would thus cling +to each other forever and prevent separation. He saw not the swift, +wild movement of Brandon when for one instant he flung his arm around +Beatrice and pressed her to his heart. He heard not the beating of that +strong heart; he heard not the low sigh of rapture with which for but +one instant the head of Beatrice sank upon her lover's breast. It was +but for an instant. Then she sat upright again, and their hands sought +each other, thus clinging, thus speaking by a voice which was fully +intelligible to each, which told how each felt in the presence of the +other love unutterable, rapture beyond expression. + +The alighted from the carriage. Beatrice led the way into the +drawing-room. No one was there. Brandon went into a recess of one of the +windows which commanded a view of the Park. + +"What a beautiful view!" said he, in a conventional voice. + +She came up and stood beside him. + +"Oh, my darling! Oh, my darling!" he cried, over and over again; and +flinging his arms around her he covered her face with burning kisses. +Her whole being seemed in that supreme moment to be absorbed in his. All +consciousness of any other thing than this unspeakable joy was lost +to her. Before all others she was lofty, high-souled, serene, +self-possessed--with him she was nothing, she lost herself in him. + +"Do not fear, my soul's darling," said he; "no harm shall come. My power +is every where--even in this house. All in the village are mine. When my +blow falls you shall be saved." + +She shuddered. + +"You will leave me here?" + +"Heavens! I must," he groaned; "we are the sport of circumstances. Oh, +my darling!" he continued, "you know my story, and my vengeance." + +"I know it all," she whispered. "I would wish to die if I could die by +your hand." + +"I will save you. Oh, love--oh, soul of mine--my arms are around you! +You are watched--but watched by me." + +"You do not know," she sighed. "Alas! your father's voice must be +obeyed, and your vengeance must be taken." + +"Fear not," said he; "I will guard you." + +She answered nothing. Could she confide in his assurance? She could not. +She thought with horror of the life before her. What could Brandon do? +She could not imagine. + +They stood thus in silence for a long time. Each felt that this was +their last meeting, and each threw all life and all thought into the +rapture of this long and ecstatic embrace. After this the impassable +gulf must reopen. She was of the blood of the accursed. They must +separate forever. + +He kissed her. He pressed her a thousand times to his heart. His burning +kisses forced a new and feverish life into her, which roused all her +nature. Never before had he dared so to fling open all his soul to her; +never before had he so clasped her to his heart; but now this moment was +a break in the agony of a long separation--a short interval which must +soon end and give way to the misery which had preceded it--and so he +yielded to the rapture of the hour, and defied the future. + +The moments extended themselves. They were left thus for a longer time +than they hoped. Potts did not come. They were still clinging to +one another. She had flung her arms around him in the anguish of her +unspeakable love, he had clasped her to his wildly-throbbing heart, and +he was straining her there recklessly and despairingly, when suddenly a +harsh voice burst upon their ears. + +"The devil!" + +Beatrice did not hear it. Brandon did, and turned his face. Potts stood +before them. + +"Mr. Potts!" said he, as he still held Beatrice close to his heart, +"this poor young lady is in wretched health. She nearly fainted. I had +to almost carry her to the window. Will you be good enough to open it, +so as to give her some air? Is she subject to these faints? Poor +child!" he said; "the air of this place ought surely to do you good. I +sympathize with you most deeply, Mr. Potts." + +"She's sickly--that's a fact," said Potts. "I'm very sorry that you have +had so much trouble--I hope you'll excuse me. I only thought that she'd +entertain you, for she's very clever. Has all the accomplishments--" + +"Perhaps you'd better call some one to take care of her," interrupted +Brandon. + +"Oh, I'll fetch some one. I'm sorry it happened so. I hope you won't +blame me, Sir," said Potts, humbly, and he hurried out of the room. + +Beatrice had not moved. She heard Brandon speak to some one, and at +first gave herself up for lost, but in an instant she understood the +full meaning of his words. To his admirable presence of mind she added +her own. She did not move, but allowed her head to rest where it was, +feeling a delicious joy in the thought that Potts was looking on and was +utterly deceived. When he left to call a servant she raised her head and +gave Brandon a last look expressive of her deathless, her unutterable +love. Again and again he pressed her to his heart. Then the noise of +servants coming in roused him. He gently placed her on a sofa, and +supported her with a grave and solemn face. + +"Here, Mrs. Compton. Take charge of her," said Potts. "She's been trying +to faint." + +Mrs. Compton came up, and kneeling down kissed Beatrice's hands. She +said nothing. + +"Oughtn't she to have a doctor?" said Brandon. + +"Oh no--she'll get over it. Take her to her room, Mrs. Compton." + +"Can the poor child walk?" asked Brandon. + +Beatrice rose. Mrs. Compton asked her to take her arm. She did so, and +leaning heavily upon it, walked away. + +[Illustration: "THE DEVIL!" ... POTTS STOOD BEFORE THEM.] + +"She seems very delicate," said Brandon. "I did not know that you had a +daughter." + +Potts sighed. + +"I have," said he, "to my sorrow." + +"To your sorrow!" said Brandon, with exquisitely simulated sympathy. + +"Yes," replied the other. "I wouldn't tell it to every one--but you, Mr. +Smithers, are different from most people. You see I have led a roving +life. I had to leave her out in China for many years with a female +guardian. I suppose she was not very well taken care of. At any rate, +she got acquainted out there with a strolling Italian vagabond, a +drum-major in one of the regiments, named Langhetti, and this villain +gained her affections by his hellish arts. He knew that I was rich, +and, like an unprincipled adventurer, tried to get her, hoping to get +a fortune. I did not know any thing about this till after her arrival +home. I sent for her some time ago and she came. From the first she was +very sulky. She did not treat me like a daughter at all. On one occasion +she actually abused me and called me names to my face. She called me a +Thug! What do you think of that, Mr. Smithers?" + +The other said nothing, but there was in his face a horror which Potts +considered as directed toward his unnatural offspring. + +"She was discontented here, though I let her have every thing. I found +out in the end all about it. At last she actually ran away. She joined +this infamous Langhetti, whom she had discovered in some way or other. +They lived together for some time, and then went to London, where she +got a situation as an actress. You can imagine by that," said Potts, +with sanctimonious horror, "how low she had fallen. + +"Well, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to make a public demand +for her through the law, for then it would all get into the papers; it +would be an awful disgrace, and the whole county would know it. So I +waited, and a few weeks ago I went to London. A chance occurred at last +which threw her in my way. I pointed out to her the awful nature of the +life she was leading, and offered to forgive her all if she would only +come back. The poor girl consented, and here she is. But I'm very +much afraid," said Potts in conclusion, with a deep sigh, "that her +constitution is broken up. She's very feeble." + +Brandon said nothing. + +"Excuse me for troubling you with my domestic affairs; but I thought I +ought to explain, for you have had such trouble with her yourself." + +"Oh, don't mention it. I quite pitied the poor child, I assure you; and +I sincerely hope that the seclusion of this place, combined with the +pure sea-air, may restore her spirits and invigorate her in mind as well +as in body. And now, Mr. Potts, I will mention the little matter that +brought me here. I have had business in Cornwall, and was on my way home +when I received a letter summoning me to America. I may have to go to +California. I have a very honest servant, whom I have quite a strong +regard for, and I am anxious to put him in some good country house till +I get back. I'm afraid to trust him in London, and I can't take him with +me. He is a Hindu, but speaks English and can do almost any thing. I +at once remembered you, especially as you were close by me, and thought +that In your large establishment you might find a place for him. How is +it?" + +"My dear Sir, I shall be proud and happy. I should like, above all +things, to have a man here who is recommended by one like you. The fact +is, my servants are all miserable, and a good one can not often be had. +I shall consider it a favor if I can get him." + +"Well, that is all arranged--I have a regard for him, as I said before, +and want to have him in a pleasant situation. His name is Asgeelo, but +we are in the habit of calling him Cato--" + +"Cato! a very good name. Where is he now?" + +"At the hotel. I will send him to you at once," said Brandon, rising. + +"The sooner the better," returned Potts. + +"By-the-way, my junior speaks very encouragingly about the prospects of +the Brandon Bank--" + +"Does he?" cried Potts, gleefully. "Well, I do believe we're going ahead +of every thing." + +"That's right. Boldness is the true way to success." + +"Oh, never fear. We are bold enough." + +"Good. But I am hurried, and I must go. I will send Asgeelo up, and give +him a letter." + +With these words Brandon bowed an adieu and departed. Before evening +Asgeelo was installed as one of the servants. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +LANGHETTI'S ATTEMPT. + +Two days after Brandon's visit to Potts, Langhetti reached the village. + +A searching examination in London had led him to believe that Beatrice +might now be sought for at Brandon Hall. The police could do nothing +for him. He had no right to her. If she was of age, she was her +own mistress, and must make application herself for her safety and +deliverance; if she was under age, then she must show that she was +treated with cruelty. None of these things could be done, and Langhetti +despaired of accomplishing any thing. + +The idea of her being once more in the power of a man like Potts +was frightful to him. This idea filled his mind continually, to the +exclusion of all other thoughts. His opera was forgotten. One great +horror stood before him, and all else became of no account. The only +thing for him to do was to try to save her. He could find no way, and +therefore determined to go and see Potts himself. + +It was a desperate undertaking. From Beatrice's descriptions he had an +idea of the life from which she had fled, and other things had given him +a true idea of the character of Potts. He knew that there was scarcely +any hope before him. Yet he went, to satisfy himself by making a last +effort. + +He was hardly the man to deal with one like Potts. Sensitive, +high-toned, passionate, impetuous in his feelings, he could not command +that calmness which was the first essential in such an interview. +Besides, he was broken down by anxiety and want of sleep. His sorrow +for Beatrice had disturbed all his thoughts. Food and sleep were alike +abominable to him. His fine-strung nerves and delicate organization, in +which every feeling had been rendered more acute by his mode of life, +were of that kind which could feel intensely wherever the affections +were concerned. His material frame was too weak for the presence of such +an ardent soul. Whenever any emotion of unusual power appeared he sank +rapidly. + +So now, feverish, emaciated, excited to an intense degree, he appeared +in Brandon to confront a cool, unemotional villain, who scarcely ever +lost his presence of mind. Such a contest could scarcely be an equal +one. What could he bring forward which could in any way affect such a +man? He had some ideas in his own mind which he imagined might be of +service, and trusted more to impulse than any thing else. He went up +early in the morning to Brandon Hall. + +Potts was at home, and did not keep Langhetti long waiting. There was +a vast contrast between these two men--the one coarse, fat, vulgar, and +strong; the other refined, slender, spiritual, and delicate, with his +large eyes burning in their deep sockets, and a strange mystery in his +face. + +"I am Paolo Langhetti," said he, abruptly--"the manager of the Covent +Garden Theatre." + +"You are, are you?" answered Potts, rudely; "then the sooner you get out +of this the better. The devil himself couldn't be more impudent. I have +just saved my daughter from your clutches, and I'm going to pay you off, +too, my fine fellow, before long." + +"Your daughter!" said Langhetti. "What she is, and who she is, you very +well know. If the dead could speak they would tell a different story." + +"What the devil do you mean," cried Potts, "by the dead? At any rate you +are a fool; for very naturally the dead can't speak; but what concern +that has with my daughter I don't know. Mind, you are playing a +dangerous game in trying to bully me." + +Potts spoke fiercely and menacingly. Langhetti's impetuous goal kindled +to a new fervor at this insulting language. He stretched out his long, +thin hand toward Potts, and said: + +"I hold your life and fortune in my hand. Give up that girl whom you +call your daughter." + +Potts stood for a moment staring. + +"The devil you do!" he cried, at last. "Come, I call that good, +rich, racy! Will your sublime Excellency have the kindness to explain +yourself? If my life is in your hand it's in a devilish lean and weak +one. It strikes me you've got some kink in your brain--some notion or +other. Out with it, and let us see what you're driving at!" + +"Do you know a man named Cigole?" said Langhetti. + +"Cigole!" replied Potts, after a pause, in which he had stared hard at +Langhetti; "well, what if I do? Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't." + +"He is in my power," said Langhetti, vehemently. + +"Much good may he do you then, for I'm sure when he was in my power he +never did any good to me." + +"He will do good in this case, at any rate," said Langhetti, with an +effort at calmness. "He was connected with you in a deed which you must +remember, and can tell to the world what he knows." + +"Well, what if he does?" said Potts. + +"He will tell," cried Langhetti, excitedly, "the true story of the +Despard murder." + +"Ah!" said Potts, "now the murder's out. That's what I thought. +Don't you suppose I saw through you when you first began to speak so +mysteriously? I knew that you had learned some wonderful story, and that +you were going to trot it out at the right time. But if you think you're +going to bully me you'll find it hard work. + +"Cigole is in my power," said Langhetti, fiercely. + +"And so you think I am, too?" sneered Potts. + +"Partly so." + +"Why?" + +"Because he was an accomplice of yours in the Despard murder." + +"So he says, no doubt; but who'll believe him?" + +"He is going to turn Queen's evidence!" said Langhetti, solemnly. + +"Queen's evidence!" returned Potts, contemptuously, "and what's his +evidence worth--the evidence of a man like that against a gentleman of +unblemished character?" + +"He will be able to show what the character of that gentleman is," +rejoined Langhetti. + +"Who will believe him?" + +"No one can help it." + +"You believe him, no doubt. You and he are both Italians--both dear +friends--and both enemies of mine; but suppose I prove to the world +conclusively that Cigole is such a scoundrel that his testimony is +worthless?" + +"You can't," cried Langhetti, furiously. + +Potts cast a look of contempt at him-- + +"Can't I!" He resumed: "How very simple, how confiding you must be, +my dear Langhetti! Let me explain my meaning. You got up a wild charge +against a gentleman of character and position about a murder. In the +first place, you seem to forget that the real murderer has long since +been punished. That miserable devil of a Malay was very properly +convicted at Manilla, and hanged there. It was twenty years ago. What +English court would consider the case again after a calm and impartial +Spanish court has settled it finally, and punished the criminal? They +did so at the time when the case was fresh, and I came forth honored +and triumphant. You now bring forward a man who, you hint, will make +statements against me. Suppose he does? What then? Why, I will show what +this man is. And you, my dear Langhetti, will be the first one whom I +will bring up against him. I will bring you up under oath, and make you +tell how this Cigole--this man who testifies against me--once made a +certain testimony in Sicily against a certain Langhetti senior, by which +that certain Langhetti senior was betrayed to the Government, and was +saved only by the folly of two Englishmen, one of whom was this same +Despard. I will show that this Langhetti senior was your father, +and that the son, instead of avenging, or at any rate resenting, +his father's wrong, is now a bosom friend of his father's intended +murderer--that he has urged him on against me. I will show, my dear +Langhetti, how you have led a roving life, and, when a drum-major at +Hong Kong, won the affections of my daughter; how you followed her here, +and seduced her away from a kind father; how at infinite risk I regained +her; how you came to me with audacious threats; and how only the dread +of further scandal, and my own anxious love for my daughter, prevented +me from handing you over to the authorities. I will prove you to be a +scoundrel of the vilest description, and, after such proof as this, what +do you think would be the verdict of an English jury, or of any judge in +any land; and what do you think would be your own fate? Answer me that." + +Potts spoke with savage vehemence. The frightful truth flashed at once +across Langhetti's mind that Potts had it in his power here to show +all this to the world. He was overwhelmed. He had never conceived the +possibility of this. Potts watched him silently, with a sneer on his +face. + +"Don't you think that you had better go and comfort yourself with your +dear friend Cigole, your father's intended murderer?" said he at length. +"Cigole told me all about this long ago. He told me many things about +his life which would be slightly damaging to his character as a witness, +but I don't mind telling you that the worst thing against him in English +eyes is his betrayal of your father. But this seems to have been a very +slight matter to you. It's odd too; I've always supposed that Italians +understood what vengeance means." + +Langhetti's face bore an expression of agony which he could not conceal. +Every word of Potts stung him to the soul. He stood for some time in +silence. At last, without a word, he walked out of the room. + +His brain reeled. He staggered rather than walked. Potts looked after +him with a smile of triumph. He left the Hall and returned to the +village. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +THE STRANGER. + +A few weeks after Langhetti's visit Potts had a new visitor at the bank. +The stranger entered the bank parlor noiselessly, and stood quietly +waiting for Potts to be disengaged. That worthy was making some entries +in a small memorandum-book. Turning his head, he saw the newcomer. Potts +looked surprised, and the stranger said, in a peculiar voice, somewhat +gruff and hesitating, + +"Mr. Potts?" + +"Yes," said Potts, looking hard at his visitor. + +He was a man of singular aspect. His hair was long, parted in the +middle, and straight. He wore dark colored spectacles. A thick, black +beard ran under his chin. His linen was not over-clean, and he wore a +long surtout coat. + +"I belong to the firm of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., Solicitors, +London.--I am the Co." + +"Well!" + +"The business about which I have come is one of some importance. Are we +secure from interruption?" + +"Yes," said Potts, "as much as I care about being. I don't know any +thing in particular that I care about locking the doors for." + +"Well, you know best," said the stranger. "The business upon which I +have come concerns you somewhat, but your son principally." + +Potts started, and looked with eager inquiry at the stranger. + +"It is such a serious case," said the latter, "that my seniors thought, +before taking any steps in the matter, it would be best to consult you +privately." + +"Well," returned Potts, with a frown, "what is this wonderful case?" + +"Forgery," said the stranger. + +Potts started to his feet with a ghastly face, and stood speechless for +some time. + +"Do you know who you're talking to?" said he, at last. + +"John Potts, of Brandon Hall, I presume," said the stranger, coolly. "My +business concerns him somewhat, but his son still more." + +"What the devil do you mean?" growled Potts, in a savage tone. + +"Forgery," said the stranger. "It is an English word, I believe. +Forgery, in which your son was chief agent. Have I made myself +understood?" + +Potts looked at him again, and then slowly went to the door, locked it, +and put the key in his pocket. + +"That's right," said the stranger, quietly. + +"You appear to take things easy," rejoined Potts, angrily; "but let me +tell you, if you come to bully me you've got into the wrong shop." + +"You appear somewhat heated. You must be calm, or else we can not get to +business; and in that case I shall have to leave." + +"I don't see how that would be any affliction," said Potts, with a +sneer. + +"That's because you don't understand my position, or the state of the +present business. For if I leave it will be the signal for a number of +interested parties to make a combined attack on you." + +"An attack?" + +"Yes." + +"Who is there?" said Potts, defiantly. + +"Giovanni Cavallo, for one; my seniors, Messrs. Bigelow & Higginson, and +several others. + +"Never heard of any of them before." + +"Perhaps not. But if you write to Smithers & Co. they will tell you +that Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. are their solicitors, and do their +confidential business." + +"Smithers & Co.?" said Potts, aghast. + +"Yes. It would not be for your interest for Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. to +show Smithers & Co. the proofs which they have against you, would it?" + +Potts was silent. An expression of consternation came over his face. He +plunged his hands deep in his pockets and bowed his head frowningly. + +"It is all bosh," said he, at last, raising his head. "Let them show and +be d---d. What have they got to show?" + +"I will answer your question regularly," said the stranger, "in +accordance with my instructions"--and, drawing a pocket-book from his +pocket, he began to read from some memoranda written there. + +"1st. The notes to which the name of Ralph Brandon is attached, 150 in +number, amounting to L93,500." + +"Pooh!" said Potts. + +"These forgeries were known to several besides your son and yourself, +and one of these men will testify against you. Others who know Brandon's +signature swear that this lacks an important point of distinction common +to all the Brandon signatures handed down from father to son. You were +foolish to leave these notes afloat. They have all been bought up on a +speculation by those who wished to make the Brandon property a little +dearer." + +"I don't think they'll make a fortune out of the speculation," said +Potts, who was stifling with rage. "D--n them! who are they?" + +"Well, there are several witnesses who are men of such character that if +my seniors sent them to Smithers & Co. Smithers & Co. would believe that +you were guilty. In a court of law you would have no better chance. One +of these witnesses says he can prove that your true name is Briggs." + +At this Potts bounded from his chair and stepped forward with a terrific +oath. + +"You see, your son's neck is in very considerable danger." + +"Yours is in greater," said Potts, with menacing eyes. + +"Not at all. Even supposing that you were absurd enough to offer +violence to an humble subordinate like me, it would not interfere with +the policy of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., who are determined to +make money out of this transaction. So you see it's absurd to talk of +violence." + +The stranger took no further notice of Potts, but looked again at +his memoranda; while the latter, whose face was now terrific from the +furious passions which it exhibited, stood like a wild beast in a cage, +"willing to wound, but yet afraid to strike." + +"The next case," said the stranger, "is the Thornton forgery." + +"Thornton!" exclaimed Potts, with greater agitation. + +"Yes," said the stranger. "In connection with the Despard murder there +were two sets of forgeries; one being the Thornton correspondence, and +the other your correspondence with the Bank of Good Hope." + +"Heavens! what's all this?" cried Potts. "Where have you been unearthing +this rubbish?" + +"First," said the stranger, without noticing Potts's exclamation, "there +are the letters to Thornton, Senior, twenty years ago, in which an +attempt was made to obtain Colonel Despard's money for yourself. One +Clark, an accomplice of yours, presented the letter. The forgery was +at once detected. Clark might have escaped, but he made an effort at +burglary, was caught, and condemned to transportation. He had been +already out once before, and this time received a new brand in addition +to the old ones." + +Potts did not say a word, but sat stupefied. + +"Thornton, Junior, is connected with us, and his testimony is valuable, +as he was the one who detected the forgery. He also was the one who went +to the Cape of Good Hope, where he had the pleasure of meeting with you. +This brings me to the third case," continued the stranger. + +"Letters were sent to the Cape of Good Hope, ordering money to be paid +to John Potts. Thornton, Senior, fearing from the first attempt that +a similar one would be made at the Cape, where the deceased had funds, +sent his son there. Young Thornton reached the place just before you +did, and would have arrested you, but the proof was not sufficient." + +"Aha!" cried Potts, grasping at this--"not sufficient proof! I should +think not." His voice was husky and his manner nervous. + +"I said 'was not'--but Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have informed +me that there are parties now in communication with them who can prove +how, when, where, and by whom the forgeries were executed." + +"It's a d----d infernal lie!" roared Potts, in a fresh burst of anger. + +"I only repeat what they state. The man has already written out a +statement in full, and is only waiting for my return to sign it before +a magistrate. This will be a death-warrant for your son; for Messrs. +Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. will have him arrested at once. You are aware +that he has no chance of escape. The amount is too enormous, and the +proof is too strong." + +"Proof!" cried Potts, desperately; "who would believe any thing against +a man like me, John Potts--a man of the county?" + +"English law is no respecter of persons," said the stranger. "Rank goes +for nothing. But if it did make class distinctions, the witnesses about +these documents are of great influence. There is Thornton of Holby, +and Colonel Henry Despard at the Cape of Good Hope, with whom Messrs. +Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have had correspondence. There are also +others." + +"It's all a lie!" exclaimed Potts, in a voice which was a little +tremulous. "Who is this fool who has been making out papers?" + +"His name is Philips; true name Lawton. He tells a very extraordinary +story; very extraordinary indeed." + +The stranger's peculiar voice was now intensified in its odd, harsh +intonations. The effect on Potts was overwhelming. For a moment he was +unable to speak. + +"Philips!" he gasped, at length. + +"Yes. You sent him on business to Smithers & Co. He has not yet +returned. He does not intend to, for he was found out by Messrs. +Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., and you know how timid he is. They have +succeeded in extracting the truth from him. As I am in a hurry, and you, +too, must be busy," continued the stranger, with unchanged accents, "I +will now come to the point. These forged papers involve an amount to the +extent of--Brandon forgeries, L93,500; Thornton papers, L5000; Bank of +Good Hope, L4000; being in all L102,500. Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & +Co. have instructed me to say that they will sell these papers to you +at their face without charging interest. They will hand them over to you +and you can destroy them, in which case, of course, the charge must be +dropped." + +"Philips!" cried Potts. "I'll have that devil's blood!" + +"That would be murder," said the stranger, with a peculiar emphasis. + +His tone stung Potts to the quick. + +"You appear to take me for a born fool," he cried, striding up and down. + +"Not at all. I am only an agent carrying out the instructions of +others." + +Potts suddenly stopped in his walk. + +"Have you all those papers about you?" he hissed. + +"All." + +Potts looked all around. The door was locked. They were alone. The +stranger easily read his thought. + +"No use," said he, calmly. "Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. would +miss me if any thing happened. Besides, I may as well tell you that I am +armed." + +The stranger rose up and faced Potts, while, from behind his dark +spectacles, his eyes seemed to glow like fire. Potts retreated with a +curse. + +"Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. instructed me to say that if I am not +back with the money by to-morrow night, they will at once begin action, +and have your son arrested. They will also inform Smithers & Co., to +whom they say you are indebted for over L600,000. So that Smithers & Co. +will at once come down upon you for payment." + +"Do Smithers & Co. know any thing about this?" asked Potts, in a voice +of intense anxiety. + +"They do business with you the same as ever, do they not?" + +"Yes." + +"How do you suppose they can know it?" + +"They would never believe it" + +"They would believe any statement made by Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, +& Co. My seniors have been on your track for a long time, and have come +into connection with various parties. One man who is an Italian they +consider important. They authorize me to state to you that this man can +also prove the forgeries." + +"Who?" grasped Potts. + +"His name is Cigole." + +"Cigole!" + +"Yes." + +"D--- him!" + +"You may damn him, but that won't silence him," remarked the other, +mildly. + +"Well, what are you going to do?" growled Potts. + +"Present you the offer of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co.," said the +other, with calm pertinacity. "Upon it depend your fortune and your +son's life." + +"How long are you going to wait?" + +"Till evening. I leave to-night. Perhaps you would like to think this +over. I'll give you till three o'clock. If you decide to accept, all +well; if not, I go back." + +The stranger rose, and Potts unlocked the door for him. + +After he left Potts sat down, buried in his own reflections. In about an +hour Clark came in. + +"Well, Johnnie!" said he, "what's up? You look down--any trouble?" + +At this Potts told Clark the story of the recent interview. Clark looked +grave, and shook his head several times. + +"Bad! bad! bad!" said he, slowly, when Potts had ended. "You're in a +tight place, lad, and I don't see what you've got to do but to knock +under." + +A long silence followed. + +"When did that chap say he would leave?" + +"To-night." + +Another silence. + +"I suppose," said Clark, "we can find out how he goes?" + +"I suppose so," returned Potts, gloomily. + +"Somebody might go with him or follow him," said Clark, darkly. + +Potts looked at him. The two exchanged glances of intelligence. + +"You see, you pay your money, and get your papers back. It would be +foolish to let this man get away with so much money. One hundred and two +thousand five hundred isn't to be picked up every day. Let us pick it up +this time, or try to. I can drop down to the inn this evening, and +see the cut of the man. I don't like what he said about me. I call it +backbiting." + +"You take a proper view of the matter," said Potts. "He's dangerous. +He'll be down on you next. What I don't like about him is his +cold-bloodedness." + +"It does come hard." + +"Well, we'll arrange it that way, shall we?" + +"Yes, you pay over, and get your documents, and I'll try my hand at +getting the money back. I've done harder things than that in my time and +so have you--hey, lad!" + +"I remember a few." + +"I wonder if this man knows any of them." + +"No," said Potts, confidently. "He would have said something." + +"Don't be too sure. The fact is, I've been troubled ever since that girl +came out so strong on us. What are you going to do with her?" + +"Don't know," growled Potts. "Keep her still somehow." + +"Give her to me." + +"What'll you do with her?" asked Potts, in surprise. + +"Take her as my wife," said Clark, with a grin. "I think I'll follow +your example and set up housekeeping. The girl's plucky; and I'd like to +take her down." + +"We'll do it; and the sooner the better. You don't want a minister, do +you?" + +"Well, I think I'll have it done up ship-shape, marriage in high life; +papers all full of it; lovely appearance of the bride--ha, ha, ha! +I'll save you all further trouble about her--a husband is better than +a father in such a case. If that Italian comes round it'll be his last +round." + +Some further conversation followed, in which Clark kept making perpetual +references to his bride. The idea had taken hold of his mind completely. + +At one o'clock Potts went to the inn, where he found the agent. He +handed over the money in silence. The agent gave him the documents. +Potts looked at them all carefully. + +Then he departed. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +THE STRANGER'S STORY. + +That evening a number of people were in the principal parlor of the +Brandon Inn. It was a cool evening in October; and there was a fire near +which the partner of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. had seated himself. + +Clark had come in at the first of the evening and had been there ever +since, talking volubly and laughing boisterously. The others were more +or less talkative, but none of them rivaled Clark. They were nearly +all Brandon people; and in their treatment of Clark there was a certain +restraint which the latter either did not wish or care to notice. As +for the stranger he sat apart in silence without regarding any one in +particular, and giving no indication whether he was listening to what +was going on or was indifferent to it all. From time to time Clark threw +glances in his direction, and once or twice he tried to draw some of the +company out to make remarks about him; but the company seemed reluctant +to touch upon the subject, and merely listened with patience. + +Clark had evidently a desire in his mind to be very entertaining and +lively. With this intent he told a number of stories, most of which were +intermingled with allusions to the company present, together with the +stranger. At last he gazed at the latter in silence for some little +time, and then turned to the company. + +"There's one among us that hasn't opened his mouth this evening. I call +it unsociable. I move that the party proceed to open it forthwith. Who +seconds the motion? Don't all speak at once." + +The company looked at one another, but no one made any reply. + +"What! no one speaks! All right; silence gives consent;" and with these +words Clark advanced toward the stranger. The latter said nothing, but +sat in a careless attitude. + +"Friend!" said Clark, standing before the stranger, "we're all friends +here--we wish to be sociable--we think you are too silent--will you be +kind enough to open your mouth? If you won't tell a story, perhaps you +will be good enough to sing us a song?" + +The stranger sat upright. + +"Well," said he; in the same peculiar harsh voice and slow tone with +which he had spoken to Potts, "the request is a fair one, and I shall be +happy to open my mouth. I regret to state that having no voice I shall +be unable to give you a song, but I'll be glad to tell a story, if the +company will listen." + +"The company will feel honored," said Clark, in a mocking tone, as he +resumed his seat. + +The stranger arose, and, going to the fire-place, picked up a piece of +charcoal. + +Clark sat in the midst of the circle, looking at him with a sneering +smile. "It's rather an odd story," said the stranger, "and I only heard +it the other day; perhaps you won't believe it, but it's true." + +"Oh, never mind the truth of it!" exclaimed Clark--"push along." + +The stranger stepped up to the wall over the fire-place. + +"Before I begin I wish to make a few marks, which I will explain in +process of time. My story is connected with these." + +He took his charcoal and made upon the wall the following marks: + +[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow] + + + R [sans-serif R] + + + + [plus sign] ] + +He then turned, and stood for a moment in silence. + +The effect upon Clark was appalling. His face turned livid, his arms +clutched violently at the seat of his chair, his jaw fell, and his eyes +were fixed on the marks as though fascinated by them. + +The stranger appeared to take no notice of him. + +"These marks," said he, "were, or rather are, upon the back of a friend +of mine, about whom I am going to tell a little story. + +"The first (/|\) is the Queen's mark, put on certain prisoners out in +Botany Bay, who are totally insubordinate. + +"The second (R) signifies 'run away,' and is put on those who have +attempted to escape. + +"The third (+) indicates a murderous assault on the guards. When they +don't hang the culprit they put this on, and those who are branded in +this way have nothing but hard work, in chains for life. + +"These marks are on the back of a friend of mine, whose name I need not +mention, but for convenience sake I will call him Clark." + +Clark didn't even resent this, but sat mute, with a face of awful +expectation. + +"My friend Clark had led a life of strange vicissitudes," said +the stranger, "having slipped through the meshes of the law very +successfully a great number of times, but finally he was caught, and +sent to Botany Bay. He served his time out, and left; but, finally, +after a series of very extraordinary adventures in India, and some odd +events in the Indian Ocean, he came to England. Bad luck followed him, +however. He made an attempt at burglary, and was caught, convicted, and +sent back again to his old station at Botany Bay. + +"Of course he felt a strong reluctance to stay in such a place, and +therefore began to plan an escape; he made one attempt, which was +unsuccessful. He then laid a plot with two other notorious offenders. +Each of these three had been branded with those letters which I have +marked. One of these was named Stubbs, and another Wilson, the third was +this Clark. No one knew how they met to make their arrangements, for the +prison regulations are very strict; but; they did meet, and managed +to confer together. They contrived to get rid of the chains that were +fastened around their ankles, and one stormy night they started off and +made a run for it. + +"The next day the guards were out in pursuit with dogs. They went all +day long on their track over a very rough country, and finally came to a +river. Here they prepared to pass the night. + +"On rising early on the following morning they saw something moving +on the top of a hill on the opposite side of the river. On watching it +narrowly they saw three men. They hurried on at once in pursuit. The +fugitives kept well ahead, however, as was natural; and since they were +running for life and freedom they made a better pace. + +"But they were pretty well worn out. They had taken no provisions with +them, and had not calculated on so close a pursuit. They kept ahead +as best they could, and at last reached a narrow river that ran down +between cliffs through a gully to the sea. The cliffs on each side were +high and bold. But they had to cross it; so down on one side they went, +and up the other. + +"Clark and Stubbs got up first. Wilson was just reaching the top when +the report of a gun was heard, and a bullet struck him in the +arm. Groaning in his agony he rushed on trying to keep up with his +companions. + +"Fortunately for them night came on. They hurried on all night, scarcely +knowing where they were going, Wilson in an agony trying to keep up with +them. Toward morning they snatched a little rest under a rock near a +brook and then hurried forward. + +"For two days more they hastened on, keeping out of reach of their +pursuers, yet still knowing that they were followed, or at least fearing +it. They had gone over a wild country along the coast, and keeping a +northward direction. At length, after four days of wandering, they +came to a little creek by the sea-shore. There were three houses here +belonging to fishermen. They rushed into the first hut and implored food +and drink. The men were off to Sydney, but the kind-hearted women gave +them what they had. They were terrified at the aspect of these wretched +men, whose natural ferocity had been heightened by hardship, famine, and +suffering. Gaunt and grim as they were, they seemed more terrible than +three wild beasts. The women knew that they were escaped convicts. + +[Illustration: HE TOOK HIS CHARCOAL AND MADE UPON THE WALL THE FOLLOWING +MARKS.] + +"There was a boat lying on the beach. To this the first thoughts of +the fugitives were directed. They filled a cask of water and put it +on board. They demanded some provisions from the fisherman's wife. The +frightened woman gave them some fish and a few ship-biscuits. They were +about to forage for themselves when Wilson, who had been watching, gave +the alarm. + +"Their pursuers were upon them. They had to run for it at once. They had +barely time to rush to the boat and get out a little distance when the +guard reached the bench. The latter fired a few shots after them, but +the shots took no effect. + +"The fugitives put out to sea in the open boat. They headed north, +for they hoped to catch some Australian ship and be taken up. Their +provisions were soon exhausted. Fortunately it was the rainy season, so +that they had a plentiful supply of water, with which they managed to +keep their cask filled; but that did not prevent them from suffering the +agonies of famine. Clark and Stubbs soon began to look at Wilson with +looks that made him quiver with terror. Naturally enough, gentlemen; +you see they were starving. Wilson was the weakest of the three, and +therefore was at their mercy. They tried, however, to catch fish. It was +of no use. There seemed to be no fish in those seas, or else the bits of +bread crumb which they put down were not an attractive bait. + +"The two men began to look at Wilson with the eyes of fiends--eyes that +flamed with foul desire, beaming from deep, hollow orbits which famine +had made. The days passed. One morning Wilson lay dead." + +The stranger paused for a moment, amidst an awful silence. + +"The lives of these two were preserved a little longer," he added, in +slow, measured tones. + +"They sailed on. In a few days Clark and Stubbs began to look at one +another. You will understand, gentlemen, that it was an awful thing for +these men to cast at each other the same glances which they once cast +on Wilson. Each one feared the other; each watched his chance, and each +guarded against his companion. + +"They could no longer row. The one sat in the bow, the other in the +stern, glaring at one another. My friend Clark was a man of singular +endurance. But why go into particulars? Enough; the boat drifted on, and +at last only one was left. + +"A ship was sailing from Australia, and the crew saw a boat drifting. A +man was there. They stopped and picked him up. The boat was stained with +blood. Tokens of what that blood was lay around. There were other things +in the boat which chilled the blood of the sailors. They took Clark on +board. He was mad at first, and raved in his delirium. They heard him +tell of what he had done. During that voyage no one spoke to him. They +touched at Cape Town, and put him ashore. + +"My friend is yet alive and well. How do you like my story?" + +The stranger sat down. A deep stillness followed, which was suddenly +broken by something, half groan and half curse. It was Clark. + +He lifted himself heavily from his chair, his face livid and his eyes +bloodshot, and staggered out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +BEATRICE'S JOURNAL CONCLUDED. + +September 7, 1849.--[This part begins with a long account of her escape, +her fortunes at Holby and London, and her recapture, which is here +omitted, as it would be to a large extent a repetition of what has +already been stated.]--After Brandon left me my heart still throbbed +with the fierce impulse which he had imparted to it. For the remainder +of the day I was upheld by a sort of consciousness of his presence. I +felt as though he had only left me in person and had surrounded me in +some way with his mysterious protection. + +Night came, and with the night came gloom. What availed his promise? +Could he prevent what I feared? What power could he possibly have in +this house? I felt deserted, and my old despair returned. + +In the morning I happened to cross the hall to go to Mrs. Compton's +room, when, to my amazement, I saw standing outside the Hindu Asgeelo. +Had I seen Brandon himself I could scarcely have been more amazed or +overjoyed. He looked at me with a warning gesture. + +"How did you get here?" I whispered. + +"My master sent me." + +A thrill passed through my veins. + +"Do not fear," he said, and walked mysteriously away. + +I asked Mrs. Compton who he was, and she said he was a new servant whom +_He_ had just hired. She knew nothing more of him. + +September 12.--A week has passed. Thus far I have been left alone. +Perhaps they do not know what to do with me. Perhaps they are busy +arranging some dark plan. + +Can I trust? Oh, Help of the helpless, save me! + +Asgeelo is here--but what can one man do? At best he can only report to +his master my agony or my death. May that Death soon come. Kindly will I +welcome him. + +September 15.--Things are certainly different here from what they used +to be. The servants take pains to put themselves in my way, so as to +show me profound respect. What is the meaning of this? Once or twice I +have met them in the hall and have marked their humble bearing. Is it +mockery? Or is it intended to entrap me? I will not trust any of them. +Is it possible that this can be Brandon's mysterious power? + +Impossible. It is rather a trick to win my confidence: But if so, why? +They do not need to trick me. I am at their mercy. + +I am at their mercy, and am without defense. What will become of me? +What is to be my fate? + +Philips has been as devoted as ever. He leaves me flowers every day. He +tries to show sympathy. At least I have two friends here--Philips and +Asgeelo. But Philips is timid, and Asgeelo is only one against a crowd. +There is Vijal--but I have not seen him. + +September 25--To-day in my closet I found a number of bottles of +different kinds of medicine, used while I was sick. Two of these +attracted my attention. Once was labeled "_Laudanum_," another was +labeled "_Hydrocyanic Acid--Poison._" I suppose they used these drugs +for my benefit at that time. The sight of them gave me more joy than any +thing else that I could have found. + +When the time comes which I dread I shall not be without resource. +_These shall save me._ + +October 3.--They leave me unmolested. They are waiting for some +crushing blow, no doubt. Asgeelo sometimes meets me, and makes signs of +encouragement. + +To-day Philips met me and said: "Don't fear--the crisis is coming." I +asked what he meant. As usual he looked frightened and hurried away. + +What does he mean? What crisis? The only crisis that I can think of is +one which fills me with dread. When that comes I will meet it firmly. + +October 10.--Mrs. Compton told me to-day that Philips had gone to London +on business. The poor old thing looked very much troubled. I urged her +to tell me what was the matter, but she only looked the more terrified. +Why she should feel alarm about the departure of Philips for London +I can not imagine. Has it any thing to do with me? No. How can it? My +fate, whatever it is, must be wrought out here in this place. + +October 14.--The dreaded crisis has come at last. Will not this be my +last entry? How can I longer avoid the fate that impends? + +This afternoon He sent for me to come down. + +I went to the dining-room expecting some horror, and I was not +disappointed. The three were sitting there as they had sat before, and +I thought that there was trouble upon their faces. It was only two +o'clock, and they had just finished lunch. + +John was the first to speak. He addressed me in a mocking tone. + +"I have the honor to inform you," said he, "that the time has arrived +when you are to be took down." + +I paid no attention whatever to these words. I felt calm. The old sense +of superiority came over me, and I looked at Him without a tremor. + +My tyrant glanced at me with a dark scowl. "After your behavior, girl, +you ought to bless your lucky stars that you got off as you did. If I +had done right, I'd have made you pay up well for the trouble you've +given. But I've spared you. At the same time I wouldn't have done so +long. I was just arranging a nice little plan for your benefit when +this gentleman"--nodding his head to Clark--"this gentleman saved me the +trouble." + +I said nothing. + +"Come, Clark, speak up--it's your affair--" + +"Oh, you manage it," said Clark. "You've got the 'gift of gab.' I never +had it." + +"I never in all my born days saw so bold a man as timid with a girl as +you are." + +"He's doin' what I shouldn't like to try on," said John. + +"See here," said my tyrant, sternly, "this gentleman has very kindly +consented to take charge of you. He has even gone so far as to consent +to marry you. He will actually make you his wife. In my opinion he's +crazy, but he's got his own ideas. He has promised to give you a tip-top +wedding. If it had been left to me," he went on, sternly, "I'd have let +you have something very different, but he's a soft-hearted fellow, and +is going to do a foolish thing. It's lucky for you though. You'd have +had a precious hard time of it with me, I tell you. You've got to be +grateful to him; so come up here, and give him a kiss, and thank him." + +So prepared was I for any horror that this did not surprise me. + +"Do you hear?" he cried, as I stood motionless. I said nothing. + +"Do as I say, d--n you, or I'll make you." + +"Come," said Clark, "don't make a fuss about the wench now--it'll be all +right. She'll like kissing well enough, and be only too glad to give me +one before a week." + +"Yes, but she ought to be made to do it now." + +"Not necessary, Johnnie; all in good time." + +My master was silent for some moments. At last he spoke again: + +"Girl," said he. "You are to be married tomorrow. There won't be any +invited guests, but you needn't mind that. You'll have your husband, and +that's more than you deserve. You don't want any new dresses. Your ball +dress will do." + +"Come, I won't stand that," said Clark. "She's got to be dressed up in +tip-top style. I'll stand the damage." + +"Oh, d--n the damage. If you want that sort of thing, it shall be done. +But there won't be time." + +"Oh well, let her fix up the best way she can." + +At this I turned and left the room. None of them tried to prevent me. I +went up to my chamber, and sat down thinking. The hour had come. + +This is my last entry. My only refuge from horror unspeakable is the +Poison. + +Perhaps one day some one will find my journal where it is concealed. Let +them learn from it what anguish may be endured by the innocent. + +May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen. + +October 14, 11 o'clock.--Hope! + +Mrs. Compton came to me a few minutes since. She had received a letter +from Philips by Asgeelo. She said the Hindu wished to see me. He was at +my door. I went there. He told me that I was to fly from Brandon Hall at +two o'clock in the morning. He would take care of me. Mrs. Compton +said she was to go with me. A place had been found where we could get +shelter. + +Oh my God, I thank thee! Already when I heard this I was mixing the +draught. Two o'clock was the hour on which I had decided for a different +kind of flight. + +Oh God! deliver the captive. Save me, as I put my trust in thee! Amen. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +THE LAST ESCAPE. + +The hour which Beatrice had mentioned in her diary was awaited by +herewith feverish impatience. She had confidence in Asgeelo, and this +confidence was heightened by the fact that Mrs. Compton was going to +accompany her. The very timidity of this poor old creature would have +prevented her from thinking of escape on any ordinary occasion; but now +the latter showed no fear. She evinced a strange exultation. She showed +Philips's letter to Beatrice, and made her read it over and over again. +It contained only a few words. + +"The time has come at last. I will keep my word to you, dear old woman. +Be ready tonight to leave Brandon Hall and those devils forever. The +Hindu will help you. + +"EDGAR." + +Mrs. Compton seemed to think far more of the letter than of escaping. +The fact that she had a letter seemed to absorb all her faculties, and +no other idea entered her mind. Beatrice had but few preparations to +make; a small parcel contained all with which she dared to encumber +herself. Hastily making it up she waited in extreme impatience for the +time. + +At last two o'clock came. Mrs. Compton was in her room. There was a +faint tap at the door. Beatrice opened it. It was Asgeelo. The Hindu +stood with his finger on his lips, and then moved away slowly and +stealthily. They followed. + +The Hindu led the way, carrying a small lantern. He did not show any +very great caution, but moved with a quiet step, thinking it sufficient +if he made no noise. Beatrice followed, and Mrs. Compton came last, +carrying nothing but the note from Philips, which she clutched in +her hand as though she esteemed it the only thing of value which she +possessed. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "THE GIGANTIC FIGURE OF ASGEELO STOOD ERECT, ONE ARM +CLUTCHING THE THROAT OF HIS ASSAILANT, AND THE OTHER HOLDING THE KNIFE +ALOFT."] + +In spite of Beatrice's confidence in Asgeelo she felt her heart sink +with dread as she passed through the hall and down the great stairway. +But no sound disturbed them. The lights were all out and the house was +still. The door of the dining-room was open, but no light shone through. + +Asgeelo led the way to the north door. They went on quietly without any +interruption, and at last reached it. Asgeelo turned the key and held +the door half open for a moment. Then he turned and whispered to them to +go out. + +Beatrice took two or three steps forward, when suddenly a dark figure +emerged from the stairway that led to the servants' hall and with a +sudden spring, advanced to Asgeelo. + +The latter dropped the lamp, which fell with a rattle on the floor but +still continued burning. He drew a long, keen knife from his breast, and +seized the other by the throat. + +Beatrice started back. By the light that flickered on the floor she saw +it all. The gigantic figure of Asgeelo stood erect, one arm clutching +the throat of his assailant, and the other holding the knife aloft. + +Beatrice rushed forward and caught the uplifted arm. + +"Spare him!" she said, in a low whisper. "He is my friend. He helped me +to escape once before." + +She had recognized Vijal. + +The Hindu dropped his arm and released his hold. The Malay staggered +back and looked earnestly at Beatrice. Recognizing her, he fell on his +knees and kissed her hand. + +"I will keep your secret," he murmured. + +Beatrice hurried out, and the others followed. They heard the key turn +in the door after them. Vijal had locked it from the inside. + +Asgeelo led the way with a swift step. They went down the main avenue, +and at length reached the gate without any interruption. The gates were +shut. + +Beatrice looked around in some dread for fear of being discovered. +Asgeelo said nothing, but tapped at the door of the porter's lodge. The +door soon opened, and the porter came out. He said nothing, but opened +the gates in silence. + +They went out. The huge gates shut behind them. They heard the key turn +in the lock. In her excitement Beatrice wondered at this, and saw that +the porter must also be in the secret. Was this the work of Brandon? + +They passed down the road a little distance, and at length reached a +place where there were two coaches and some men. + +One of these came up and took Mrs. Compton. "Come, old woman," said he; +"you and I are to go in this coach." It was too dark to see who it was; +but the voice sounded like that of Philips. He led her into the coach +and jumped in after her. + +There was another figure there. He advanced in silence, and motioned to +the coach without a word. Beatrice followed; the coach door was opened, +and she entered. Asgeelo mounted the box. The stranger entered the coach +and shut the door. + +Beatrice had not seen the face of this man; but at the sight of the +outline of his figure a strange, wild thought came to her mind. As he +seated himself by her side a thrill passed through every nerve. Not a +word was spoken. + +He reached out one hand, and caught hers in a close and fervid clasp. He +threw his arm about her waist, and drew her toward him. Her head sank in +a delicious languor upon his breast; and she felt the fast throbbing +of his heart as she lay there. He held her pressed closely for a long +while, drawing quick and heavy breaths, and not speaking a word. Then he +smoothed her brow, stroked her hair, and caressed her cheek. Every touch +of his made her blood tingle. + +"Do you know who I am?" said at last a well-known voice. + +She made no answer, but pressed his hand and nestled more closely to his +heart. + +The carriages rushed on swiftly. They went through the village, passed +the inn, and soon entered the open country. Beatrice, in that moment of +ecstasy, knew not and cared not whither they were going. Enough that she +was with him. + +"You have saved me from a fate of horror," said she, tremulously; "or +rather, you have prevented me from saving myself." + +"How could you have saved yourself?" + +"I found poison." + +She felt the shudder that passed through his frame. He pressed her again +to his heart, and sat for a long time in silence. + +"How had you the heart to let me go back when you could get me away so +easily?" said she, after a time, in a reproachful tone. + +"I could not save you then," answered he, "without open violence. I +wished to defer that for the accomplishment of a purpose which you know. +But I secured your safety, for all the servants at Brandon Hall are in +my pay." + +"What! Vijal too?" + +"No, not Vijal; he was incorruptible; but all the others. They would +have obeyed your slightest wish in any respect. They would have shed +their blood for you, for the simple reason that I had promised to pay +each man an enormous sum if he saved you from any trouble. They were +all on the look out. You never were so watched in your life. If you had +chosen to run off every man of them would have helped you, and would +have rejoiced at the chance of making themselves rich at the expense of +Potts. Under these circumstances I thought you were safe." + +"And why did you not tell me?" + +"Ah! love, there are many things which I must not tell you." + +He sighed. His sombre tone brought back her senses which had been +wandering. She struggled to get away. He would not release her. + +"Let me go!" said she. "I am of the accursed brood--the impure ones! You +are polluted by my touch!" + +"I will not let you go," returned he, in a tone of infinite sweetness. +"Not now. This may be our last interview. How can I let you go?" + +"I am pollution." + +"You are angelic. Oh, let us not think of other things. Let us banish +from our minds the thought of that barrier which rises between us. While +we are here let us forget every thing except that we love one another. +To-morrow will come, and our joy will be at an end forever. But you, +darling, will be saved! I will guard you to my life's end, even though I +can not come near you." + +Tears fell from Beatrice's eyes. He felt them hot upon his hand. He +sighed deeply. + +"I am of the accursed brood!--the accursed!--the accursed! You dishonor +your name by touching me." + +Brandon clang to her. He would not let her go. She wept there upon his +breast, and still murmured the words, "Accursed! accursed!" + +Their carriage rolled on, behind them came the other; on for mile after +mile, round the bays and creeks of the sea, until at last they reached a +village. + +"This is our destination," said Brandon. + +"Where are we?" sighed Beatrice. + +"It is Denton," he replied. + +The coach stopped before a little cottage. Asgeelo opened the door. +Brandon pressed Beatrice to his heart. + +"For the last time, darling," he murmured. + +She said nothing. He helped her out, catching her in his arms as she +descended, and lifting her to the ground. Mrs. Compton was already +waiting, having descended first. Lights were burning in the cottage +window. + +"This is your home for the present," said Brandon. "Here you are safe. +You will find every thing that you want, and the servants are faithful. +You may trust them." + +He shook hands, with Mrs. Compton, pressed the hand of Beatrice, and +leaped into the coach. + +"Good-by," he called, as Asgeelo whipped the horses. + +"Good-by forever," murmured Beatrice through her tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +ROUSED AT LAST. + +About this time Despard received a call from Langhetti. "I am going +away," said the latter, after the preliminary greetings. "I am well +enough now to resume my search after Beatrice." + +"Beatrice?" + +"Yes." + +"What can you do?" + +"I haven't an idea; but I mean to try to do something." + +Langhetti certainly did not look like a man who was capable of doing +very much, especially against one like Potts. Thin, pale, fragile, and +emaciated, his slender form seemed ready to yield to the pressure of the +first fatigue which he might encounter. Yet his resolution was strong, +and he spoke confidently of being able in some mysterious way to effect +the escape of Beatrice. He had no idea how he could do it. He had +exerted his strongest influence, and had come away discomfited. Still he +had confidence in himself and trust in God, and with these he determined +to set out once more, and to succeed or perish in the attempt. + +After he had left Despard sat moodily in his study for some hours. At +last a visitor was announced. He was a man whom Despard had never seen +before, and who gave his name as Wheeler. + +The stranger on entering regarded Despard for some time with an earnest +glance in silence. At last he spoke: "You are the son of Lionel Despard, +are you not?" + +"Yes," said Despard, in some surprise. + +"Excuse me for alluding to so sad an event; but you are, of course, +aware of the common story of his death." + +"Yes," replied Despard, in still greater surprise. + +"That story is known to the world," said the stranger. "His case was +publicly tried at Manilla, and a Malay was executed for the crime." + +"I know that," returned Despard, "and I know, also, that there were +some, and that there still are some, who suspect that the Malay was +innocent." + +"Who suspected this?" + +"My uncle Henry Despard and myself." + +"Will you allow me to ask you if your suspicions pointed at any one?" + +"My uncle hinted at one person, but he had nothing more than +suspicions." + +"Who was the man?" + +"A man who was my father's valet, or agent, who accompanied him on that +voyage, and took an active part in the conviction of the Malay." + +"What was his name?" + +"John Potts." + +"Where does he live now?" + +"In Brandon." + +"Very well. Excuse my questions, but I was anxious to learn how much you +knew. You will see shortly that they were not idle. Has any thing ever +been done by any of the relatives to discover whether these suspicions +were correct?" + +"At first nothing was done. They accepted as an established fact the +decision of the Manilla court. They did not even suspect then that any +thing else was possible. It was only subsequent circumstances that led +my uncle to have some vague suspicions." + +"What were those, may I ask?" + +"I would rather not tell," said Despard, who shrank from relating to a +stranger the mysterious story of Edith Brandon. + +"It is as well, perhaps. At any rate, you say there were no suspicions +expressed till your uncle was led to form them?" + +"No." + +"About how long ago was this?" + +"About two years ago--a little more, perhaps. I at once devoted myself +to the task of discovering whether they could be maintained. I found it +impossible, however, to learn any thing. The event had happened so long +ago that it had faded out of men's minds. The person whom I suspected +had become very rich, influential, and respected. In fact, he was +unassailable, and I have been compelled to give up the effort." + +"Would you like to learn something of the truth?" asked the stranger, in +a thrilling voice. + +Despard's whole soul was roused by this question. + +"More than any thing else," replied he. + +"There is a sand-bank," began the stranger, "three hundred miles south +of the island of Java, which goes by the name of Coffin Island. It is so +called on account of a rock of peculiar shape at the eastern extremity. +I was coming from the East, on my way to England, when a violent storm +arose, and I was cast ashore alone upon that island. This may +seem extraordinary to you, but what I have to tell is still more +extraordinary. I found food and water there, and lived for some time. At +last another hurricane came and blew away all the sand from a mound at +the western end. This mound had been piled about a wrecked vessel--a +vessel wrecked twenty years ago, twenty years ago," he repeated, with +startling emphasis, "and the name of that vessel was the _Vishnu_." + +"The _Vishnu_!" cried Despard, starting to his feet, while his whole +frame was shaken by emotion at this strange narrative. "_Vishnu_!" + +"Yes, the _Vishnu_!" continued the stranger. + +"You know what that means. For many years that vessel had lain there, +entombed amidst the sands, until at last I--on that lonely isle--saw +the sands swept away and the buried ship revealed. I went on board. I +entered the cabin. I passed through it. At last I entered a room at one +corner. A skeleton lay there. Do you know whose it was?" + +"Whose?" cried Despard, in a frenzy of excitement. + +"_Your father's_!" said the stranger, in an awful voice. + +"God in heaven!" exclaimed Despard, and he sank back into his seat. + +"In his hand he held a manuscript, which was his last message to his +friends. It was inclosed in a bottle. The storm had prevented him from +throwing it overboard. He held it there as though waiting for some one +to take it. I was the one appointed to that task. I took it. I read it, +and now that I have arrived in England I have brought it to you." + +"Where is it?" cried Despard, in wild excitement. + +"Here," said the stranger, and he laid a package upon the table. + +Despard seized it, and tore open the coverings. At the first sight +he recognized the handwriting of his father, familiar to him from old +letters written to him when he was a child--letters which he had always +preserved, and every turn of which was impressed upon his memory. The +first glance was sufficient to impress upon his mind the conviction that +the stranger's tale was true. + +Without another word he began to read it. And as he read all his soul +became associated with that lonely man, drifting in his drifting ship. +There he read the villainy of the miscreant who had compassed his death, +and the despair of the castaway. + +That suffering man was his own father. It was this that gave intensity +to his thoughts as he read. The dying man bequeathed his vengeance to +Ralph Brandon, and his blessing to his son. + +Despard read over the manuscript many times. It was his father's words +to himself. + +"I am in haste," said the stranger. "The manuscript is yours. I have +made inquiries for Ralph Brandon, and find that he is dead. It is for +you to do as seems good. You are a clergyman, but you are also a man; +and a father's wrongs cry to Heaven for vengeance." + +"And they shall be avenged!" exclaimed Despard, striking his clenched +hand upon the table. + +"I have something more before I go," continued the stranger, +mournfully--"something which you will prize more than life. It was worn +next your father's heart till he died. I found it there." + +Saying this he handed to Despard a miniature, painted on enamel, +representing a beautiful woman, whose features were like his own. + +"My mother!" cried Despard, passionately, and he covered the miniature +with kisses. + +"I buried your father," said the stranger, after a long pause. "His +remains now lie on Coffin Island, in their last resting-place." + +"And who are you? What are you? How did you find me out? What is your +object?" cried Despard, eagerly. + +"I am Mr. Wheeler," said the stranger, calmly; "and I come to give you +these things in order to fulfill my duty to the dead. It remains for you +to fulfill yours." + +"That duty shall be fulfilled!" exclaimed Despard. "The law does not +help me: I will help myself. I know some of these men at least. I will +do the duty of a son." + +The stranger bowed and withdrew. + +Despard paced the room for hours. A fierce thirst for vengeance had +taken possession of him. Again and again he read the manuscript, and +after each reading his vengeful feeling became stronger. + +At last he had a purpose. He was no longer the imbecile--the +crushed--the hopeless. In the full knowledge of his father's misery his +own became endurable. + +In the morning he saw Langhetti and told him all. + +"But who is the stranger?" Despard asked in wonder. + +"It can only be one person," said Langhetti, solemnly. + +"Who?" + +"Louis Brandon. He and no other. Who else could thus have been chosen to +find the dead? He has his wrongs also to avenge." + +Despard was silent. Overwhelming thoughts crowded upon him. Was this man +Louis Brandon? + +"We must find him," said he. "We must gain his help in our work. We must +also tell him about Edith." + +"Yes," replied Langhetti. "But no doubt he has his own work before +him; and this is but part of his plan, to rouse you from inaction to +vengeance." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +WHO IS HE? + +On the morning after the last escape of Beatrice, Clark went up to +Brandon Hall. It was about nine o'clock. A sullen frown was on his +face, which was pervaded by an expression of savage malignity. A deeply +preoccupied look, as though he were altogether absorbed in his own +thoughts, prevented him from noticing the half-smiles which the servants +cast at one another. + +Asgeelo opened the door. That valuable servant was at his post as usual. +Clark brushed past him with a growl and entered the dining-room. + +Potts was standing in front of the fire with a flushed face and savage +eyes. John was stroking his dog, and appeared quite indifferent. Clark, +however, was too much taken up with his own thoughts to notice Potts. He +came in and sat down in silence. + +"Well," said Potts, "did you do that business?" + +"No," growled Clark. + +"No!" cried Potts. "Do you mean to say you didn't follow up the fellow?" + +"I mean to say it's no go," returned Clark. "I did what I could. But +when you are after a man, and he turns out to be the DEVIL HIMSELF, what +can you do?" + +At these words, which were spoken with unusual excitement, John gave a +low laugh, but said nothing. + +"You've been getting rather soft lately, it seems to me," said Potts. +"At any rate, what did you do?" + +"Well," said Clark, slowly--"I went to that inn--to watch the fellow. +He was sitting by the fire, taking it very easy. I tried to make out +whether I had ever seen him before, but could not. He sat by the fire, +and wouldn't say a word. I tried to trot him out, and at last I did so. +He trotted out in good earnest, and if any man was ever kicked at +and ridden rough-shod over, I'm that individual. He isn't a man--he's +Beelzebub. He knows every thing. He began in a playful way by taking a +piece of charcoal and writing on the wall some marks which belong to me, +and which I'm a little delicate about letting people see; in fact, the +Botany Bay marks." + +"Did he know that?" cried Potts, aghast. + +"Not only knew it, but, as I was saying, marked it on the wall. That's +a sign of knowledge. And for fear they wouldn't be understood, he kindly +explained to about a dozen people present the particular meaning of +each." + +"The devil!" said John. + +"That's what I said he was," rejoined Clark, dryly. "But that's nothing. +I remember when I was a little boy," he continued, pensively, "hearing +the parson read about some handwriting on the wall, that frightened +Beelzebub himself; but I tell you this handwriting on the wall used me +up a good deal more than that other. Still what followed was worse." + +Clark paused for a little while, and then, taking a long breath, went +on. + +"He proceeded to give to the assembled company an account of my life, +particularly that very interesting part of it which I passed on my last +visit to Botany Bay. You know my escape." + +He stopped for a while. + +"Did he know about that, too?" asked Potts, with some agitation. + +"Johnnie," said Clark, "he knew a precious sight more than you do, and +told some things which I had forgotten myself. Why, that devil stood up +there and slowly told the company not only what I did but what I felt. +He brought it all back. He told how I looked at Stubbs, and how Stubbs +looked at me in the boat. He told how we sat looking at each other, each +in our own end of the boat." + +Clark stopped again, and no one spoke for a long time. + +"I lost my breath and ran out," he resumed, "and was afraid to go back. +I did so at last. It was then almost midnight. I found him still sitting +there. He smiled at me in a way that fairly made my blood run cold. +'Crocker,' said he, 'sit down.'" + +At this Potts and John looked at each other in horror. + +"He knows that too?" said John. + +"Every thing," returned Clark, dejectedly. + +"Well, when he said that I looked a little surprised, as you may be +sure. + +"'I thought you'd be back,' said he, 'for you want to see me, you know. +You're going to follow me,' says he. 'You've got your pistols all ready, +so, as I always like to oblige a friend, I'll give you a chance. Come.' + +"At this I fairly staggered. + +"'Come,' says he, 'I've got all that money, and Potts wants it back. And +you're going to get it from me. Come.' + +"I swear to you I could not move. He smiled at me as before, and quietly +got up and left the house. I stood for some time fixed to the spot. At +last I grew reckless. 'If he's the devil himself,' says I, 'I'll have it +out with him.' I rushed out and followed in his pursuit. After some time +I overtook him. He was on horseback, but his horse was walking. He heard +me coming. 'Ah, Crocker,' said he, quite merrily, 'so you've come, have +you?' + +"I tore my pistol from my pocket and fired. The only reply was a loud +laugh. He went on without turning his head. I was now sure that it was +the devil, but I fired my other pistol. He gave a tremendous laugh, +turned his horse, and rode full at me. His horse seemed as large as the +village church. Every thing swam around, and I fell headforemost on the +ground. I believe I lay there all night. When I came to it was morning, +and I hurried straight here." + +As he ended Clark arose, and, going to the sideboard, poured out a large +glass of brandy, which he drank raw. + +"The fact is," said John, after long thought, "you've been tricked. This +fellow has doctored your pistols and frightened you." + +"But I loaded them myself," replied Clark. + +"When?" + +"Oh, I always keep them loaded in my room. I tried them, and found the +charge was in them." + +"Oh, somebody's fixed them." + +"I don't think half as much about the pistols as about what he told me. +What devil could have put all that into his head? Answer me that," said +Clark. + +"Somebody's at work around us," said John. "I feel it in my bones." + +"We're getting used up," said Potts. "The girl's gone again." + +"The girl! Gone!" + +"Yes, and Mrs. Compton too." + +"The devil!" + +"I'd rather lose the girl than Mrs. Compton; but when they both vanish +the same night what are you to think?" + +"I think the devil is loose." + +"I'm afraid he's turned against us," said Potts, in a regretful tone. +"He's got tired of helping us." + +"Do none of the servants know any thing about it?" + +"No--none of them." + +"Have you asked them all?" + +"Yes." + +"Doesn't that new servant, the Injin?" + +"No; they all went to bed at twelve. Vijal was up as late as two. They +all swear that every thing was quiet." + +"Did they go out through the doors?" + +"The doors were all locked as usual." + +"There's treachery somewhere!" cried John, with more excitement than +usual. + +The others were silent. + +"I believe that the girl's at the bottom of it all," said John. "We've +been trying to take her down ever since she came, but it's my belief +that we'll end by getting took down ourselves. I scented bad luck in her +at the other side of the world. We've been acting like fools. We ought +to have silenced her at first." + +"No," rejoined Potts, gloomily. "There's somebody at work deeper than +she is. Somebody--but who?--who?" + +"Nobody but the devil," said Clark, firmly. + +"I've been thinking about that Italian," continued Potts. "He's the only +man living that would bother his head about the girl. They know a good +deal between them. I think he's managed some of this last business. He +humbugged us. It isn't the devil; it's this Italian. We must look out; +he'll be around here again perhaps." + +Clark's eyes brightened. + +"The next time," said he, "I'll load my pistols fresh, and then see if +he'll escape me!" + +At this a noise was heard in the hall. Potts went out. The servants had +been scouring the grounds as before, but with no result. + +"No use," said John. "I tried it with my dog. He went straight down +through the gate, and a little distance outside the scent was lost. I +tried him with Mrs. Compton too. They both went together, and of course +had horses or carriages there." + +"What does the porter say?" asked Clark. + +"He swears that he was up till two, and then went to bed, and that +nobody was near the gate." + +"Well, we can't do any thing," said Potts; "but I'll send some of the +servants off to see what they can hear. The scent was lost so soon that +we can't tell what direction they took. + +"You'll never get her again," said John; "she's gone for good this +time." + +Potts swore a deep oath and relapsed into silence. After a time they all +went down to the bank. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +THE RUN ON THE BANK. + +Not long after the bank opened a number of people came in who asked +for gold in return for some bank-notes which they offered. This was an +unusual circumstance. The people also were strangers. Potts wondered +what it could mean. There was no help for it, however. The gold was paid +out, and Potts and his friends began to feel somewhat alarmed at the +thought which now presented itself for the first time that their very +large circulation of notes might be returned upon them. He communicated +this fear to Clark. + +"How much gold have you?" + +"Very little." + +"How much?" + +"Thirty thousand." + +"Phew!" said Clark, "and nearly two hundred thousand out in notes!" + +Potts was silent. + +"What'll you do if there is a run on the bank?" + +"Oh, there won't be." + +"Why not?" + +"My credit is too good." + +"Your credit won't be worth a rush if people know this." + +While they talked persons kept dropping in. Most of the villagers and +people of the neighborhood brought back the notes, demanding gold. By +about twelve o'clock the influx was constant. + +Potts began to feel alarmed. He went out, and tried to bully some of the +villagers. They did not seem to pay any attention to him, however. Potts +went back to his parlor discomfited, vowing vengeance against those who +had thus slighted him. The worst of these was the tailor, who brought in +notes to the extent of a thousand pounds, and when Potts ordered him out +and told him to wait, only laughed in his face. + +"Haven't you got gold enough?" said the tailor, with a sneer. "Are you +afraid of the bank? Well, old Potts, so am I." + +At this there was a general laugh among the people. + +The bank clerks did not at all sympathize with the bank. They were too +eager to pay out. Potts had to check them. He called them in his parlor, +and ordered them to pay out more slowly. They all declared that they +couldn't. + +The day dragged on till at last three o'clock came. Fifteen thousand +pounds had been paid out. Potts fell into deep despondency. Clark had +remained throughout the whole morning. + +"There's going to be a run on the bank!" said he. "It's only begun." + +Potts's sole answer was a curse. + +"What are you going to do?" he asked. + +"You'll have to help me," replied Potts. "You've got something." + +"I've got fifty thousand pounds in the Plymouth Bank." + +"You'll have to let me have it." + +Clark hesitated. + +"I don't know," said he. + +"D-n it, man, I'll give you any security you wish. I've got more +security than I know what to do with." + +"Well," said Clark, "I don't know. There's a risk." + +"I only want it for a few days. I'll send down stock to my London broker +and have it sold. It will give me hundreds of thousands--twice as much +as all the bank issue. Then I'll pay up these devils well, and that +d----d tailor worst of all. I swear I'll send it all down to-day, and +have every bit of it sold. If there's going to be a run, I'll be ready +for them." + +"How much have you?" + +"I'll send it all down--though I'm devilish sorry," continued Potts. +"How much? why, see here;" and he penciled down the following figures on +a piece of paper, which he showed to Clark: + + California Company.................L100,000 + Mexican bonds ..................... 50,000 + Guatemala do. ..................... 50,000 + Venezuela do. ..................... 50,000 + -------- + L250,000 + +"What do you think of that, my boy?" said Potts. + +"Well," returned Clark, cautiously, "I don't like them American names." + +"Why," said Potts, "the stock is at a premium. I've been getting from +twenty to twenty-five per cent. dividends. They'll sell for three +hundred thousand nearly. I'll sell them all. I'll sell them all," +he cried. "I'll have gold enough to put a stop to this sort of thing +forever." + +"I thought you had some French and Russian bonds," said Clark. + +"I gave those to that devil who had the--the papers, you know. He +consented to take them, and I was very glad, for they paid less than the +others." + +Clark was silent. + +"Why, man, what are you thinking about? Don't you know that I'm good for +two millions, what with my estate and my stock?" + +"But you owe an infernal lot." + +"And haven't I notes and other securities from every body?" + +"Yes, from every body; but how can you get hold of them?" + +"The first people of the county!" + +"And as poor as rats." + +"London merchants!" + +"Who are they? How can you get back your money?" + +"Smithers & Co. will let me have what I want." + +"If Smithers & Co. knew the present state of affairs I rather think that +they'd back down." + +"Pooh! What! Back down from a man with my means! Nonsense! They know how +rich I am, or they never would have begun. Come, don't be a fool. It'll +take three days to get gold for my stock, and if you don't help me the +bank may stop before I get it. If you'll help me for three days I'll pay +you well." + +[Illustration: THE RUN ON THE BANK] + +"How much will you give?" + +"I'll give ten thousand pounds--there! I don't mind." + +"Done. Give me your note for sixty thousand pounds, and I'll let you +have the fifty thousand for three days." + +"All right. You've got me where my hair is short; but I don't mind. When +can I have the money?" + +"The day after to-morrow. I'll go to Plymouth now, get the money +to-morrow, and you can use it the next day." + +"All right; I'll send down John to London with the stock, and he'll +bring up the gold at once." + +Clark started off immediately for Plymouth, and not long after John went +away to London. Potts remained to await the storm which he dreaded. + +The next day came. The bank opened late on purpose. Potts put up a +notice that it was to be closed that day at twelve, on account of the +absence of some of the directors. + +At about eleven the crowd of people began to make their appearance as +before. Their demands were somewhat larger than on the previous day. +Before twelve ten thousand pounds had been paid. At twelve the bank +was shut in the faces of the clamorous people, in accordance with the +notice. + +Strangers were there from all parts of the county. The village inn was +crowded, and a large number of carriages was outside. Potts began to +look forward to the next day with deep anxiety. Only five thousand +pounds remained in the bank. One man had come with notes to the extent +of five thousand, and had only been got rid of by the shutting of the +bank. He left, vowing vengeance. + +To Potts's immense relief Clark made his appearance early on the +following day. He had brought the money. Potts gave him his note for +sixty thousand pounds, and the third day began. + +By ten o'clock the doors were besieged by the largest crowd that had +ever assembled in this quiet village. Another host of lookers-on had +collected. When the doors were opened they poured in with a rush. + +The demands on this third day were very large. The man with the five +thousand had fought his way to the counter first, and clamored to be +paid. The noise and confusion were overpowering. Every body was cursing +the bank or laughing at it. Each one felt doubtful about getting his +pay. Potts tried to be dignified for a time. He ordered them to be +quiet, and assured them that they would all be paid. His voice was +drowned in the wild uproar. The clerks counted out the gold as rapidly +as possible, in spite of the remonstrances of Potts, who on three +occasions called them all into the parlor, and threatened to dismiss +them unless they counted more slowly. His threats were disregarded. +They went back, and paid out as rapidly as before. The amounts required +ranged from five or ten pounds to thousands of pounds. At last, after +paying out thousands, one man came up who had notes to the amount of ten +thousand pounds. This was the largest demand that had yet been made. It +was doubtful whether there was so large an amount left. Potts came out +to see him. There was no help for it; he had to parley with the enemy. + +He told him that it was within a few minutes of three, and that it would +take an hour at least to count out so much--would he not wait till the +next day? There would be ample time then. + +The man had no objection. It was all the same to him. He went out with +his bundle of notes through the crowd, telling them that the bank could +not pay him. This intelligence made the excitement still greater. There +was a fierce rush to the counter. The clerks worked hard, and paid out +what they could in spite of the hints and even the threats of Potts, +till at length the bank clock struck the hour of three. It had been put +forward twenty minutes, and there was a great riot among the people on +that account, but they could not do any thing. The bank was closed for +the day, and they had to depart. + +Both Potts and Clark now waited eagerly for the return of John. He +was expected before the next day. He ought to be in by midnight. After +waiting impatiently for hours they at length drove out to see if they +could find him. + +About twelve miles from Brandon they met him at midnight with a team of +horses and a number of men, all of whom were armed. + +"Have you got it?" + +"Yes," said John, "what there is of it." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I'm too tired to explain. Wait till we get home." + +It was four o'clock in the morning before they reached the bank. The +gold was taken out and deposited in the vaults, and the three went up to +the Hall. They brought out brandy and refreshed themselves, after which +John remarked, in his usual laconic style, + +"You've been and gone and done it." + +"What?" asked Potts, somewhat puzzled. + +"With your speculations in stocks." + +"What about them?" + +"Nothing," said John, "only they happen to be at a small discount." + +"A discount?" + +"Slightly." + +Potts was silent. + +"How much?" asked Clark. + +"I have a statement here," said John. "When I got to London, I saw the +broker. He said that American stocks, particularly those which I held, +had undergone a great depreciation. He assured me that it was only +temporary, that the dividends which these stocks paid were enough to +raise them in a short time, perhaps in a few weeks, and that it was +madness to sell out now. He declared that it would ruin the credit of +the Brandon Bank if it were known that we sold out at such a fearful +sacrifice, and advised me to raise the money at a less cost. + +"Well, I could only think of Smithers & Co. I went to their office. They +were all away. I saw one of the clerks who said they had gone to see +about some Russian loan or other, so there was nothing to do but to +go back to the broker. He assured me again that it was an unheard of +sacrifice; that these very stocks which I held had fallen terribly, he +knew not how, and advised me to do any thing rather than make such a +sacrifice. But I could do nothing. Gold was what I wanted, and since +Smithers & Co. were away this was the only way to get it." + +"Well!" cried Potts, eagerly. "Did you get it?" + +"You saw that I got it. I sold out at a cost that is next to ruin." + +"What is it?" + +"Well," said John, "I will give you the statement of the broker," and he +drew from his pocket a paper which he handed to the others. They looked +at it eagerly. + +It was as follows: + + 100 shares California @ L1000 each. 65 per + cent, discount........................L35,000 + 50 shares Mexican. 75 per cent, discount 12,500 + 50 shares Guatemala. 80 per cent, dis- + count ................................ 10,000 + 50 shares Venezuela. 80 per cent discount 10,000 + ------- + L67,000 + +The faces of Potts and Clark grew black as night as they read this. A +deep execration burst from Potts. Clark leaned back in his chair. + +"The bank's blown up!" said he. + +"No, it ain't," rejoined Potts. + +"Why not?" + +"There's gold enough to pay all that's likely to be offered." + +"How much more do you think will be offered?" + +"Not much; it stands to reason." + +"It stands to reason that every note which you've issued will be sent +back to you. So I'll trouble you to give me my sixty thousand; and I +advise you as a friend to hold on to the rest." + +"Clark!" said Potts, "you're getting timider and timider. You ain't got +any more pluck these times than a kitten." + +"It's a time when a man's got to be careful of his earnings," said +Clark. "How much have you out in notes? You told me once you had out +about L180,000, perhaps more. Well, you've already had to redeem about +L75,000. That leaves L105,000 yet, and you've only got L67,000 to pay it +with. What have you got to say to that?" + +"Well!" said Potts. "The Brandon Bank may go--but what then? You forget +that I have the Brandon estate. That's worth two millions." + +"You got it for two hundred thousand." + +"Because it was thrown away, and dropped into my hands." + +"It'll be thrown away again at this rate. You owe Smithers & Co." + +"Pooh! that's all offset by securities which I hold." + +"Queer securities!" + +"All good," said Potts. "All first-rate. It'll be all right. We'll have +to put it through." + +"But what if it isn't all right?" asked Clark, savagely. + +"You forget that I have Smithers & Co. to fall back on." + +"If your bank breaks, there is an end of Smithers & Co." + +"Oh no. I've got this estate to fall back on, and they know it. I can +easily explain to them. If they had only been in town I shouldn't have +had to make this sacrifice. You needn't feel troubled about your money. +I'll give you security on the estate to any amount. I'll give you +security for seventy thousand," said Potts. + +Clark thought for a while. + +"Well!" said he, "it's a risk, but I'll run it" + +"There isn't time to get a lawyer now to make out the papers; but +whenever you fetch one I'll do it." + +"I'll get one to-day, and you'll sign the papers this evening. In my +opinion by that time the bank'll be shut up for good, and you're a fool +for your pains. You're simply throwing away what gold you have." + +Potts went down not long after. It was the fourth day of the run. +Miscellaneous callers thronged the place, but the amounts were not +large. In two hours not more than five thousand were paid out. + +At length a man came in with a carpet-bag. He pulled out a vast quantity +of notes. + +"How much?" asked the clerk, blandly. + +"Thirty thousand pounds," said the man. + +Potts heard this and came out. + +"How much?" he asked. + +"Thirty thousand pounds." + +"Do you want it in gold?" + +"Of course." + +"Will you take a draft on Messrs. Smithers & Co.?" + +"No, I want gold." + +While Potts was talking to this man another was waiting patiently beside +him. Of course this imperative claimant had to be paid or else the bank +would have to stop, and this was a casualty which Potts could not yet +face with calmness. Before it came to that he was determined to pay out +his last sovereign. + +On paying the thirty thousand pounds it was found that there were only +two bags left of two thousand pounds each. + +The other man who had waited stood calmly, while the one who had been +paid was making arrangements about conveying his money away. + +It was now two o'clock. The stranger said quietly to the clerk opposite +that he wanted gold. + +"How much?" said the clerk, with the same blandness. + +"Forty thousand pounds," answered the stranger. + +"Sorry we can't accommodate you, Sir," returned the clerk. + +Potts had heard this and came forward. + +"Won't you take a draft on London?" said he. + +"Can't," replied the man; "I was ordered to get gold." + +"A draft on Smithers & Co.?" + +"Couldn't take even Bank of England notes," said the stranger; "I'm only +an agent. If you can't accommodate me I'm sorry, I'm sure." + +Potts was silent. His face was ghastly. As much agony as such a man +could endure was felt by him at that moment. + +Half an hour afterward the shutters were up; and outside the door stood +a wild and riotous crowd, the most noisy of whom was the tailor. + +The Brandon Bank had failed. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +THE BANK DIRECTORS. + +The bank doors were closed, and the bank directors were left to their +own refections. Clark had been in through the day, and at the critical +moment his feelings had overpowered him so much that he felt compelled +to go over to the inn to get something to drink, wherewith he might +refresh himself and keep up his spirits. + +Potts and John remained in the bank parlor. The clerks had gone. Potts +was in that state of dejection in which even liquor was not desirable. +John showed his usual nonchalance. + +"Well, Johnnie," said Potts, after a long silence, "we're used up!" + +"The bank's bursted, that's a fact. You were a fool for fighting it out +so long." + +"I might as well. I was responsible, at any rate." + +"You might have kept your gold." + +"Then my estate would have been good. Besides, I hoped to fight through +this difficulty. In fact, I hadn't any thing else to do." + +"Why not?" + +"Smithers & Co," + +"Ah! yes." + +"They'll be down on me now. That's what I was afraid of all along." + +"How much do you owe them?" + +"Seven hundred and two thousand pounds." + +"The devil! I thought it was only five hundred thousand." + +"It's been growing every day. Its a dreadful dangerous thing to have +unlimited credit." + +"Well, you've got something as an offset. The debts due the bank." + +"Johnnie," said Potts, taking a long breath, "since Clark isn't here I +don't mind telling you that my candid opinion is them debts isn't worth +a rush. A great crowd of people came here for money. I didn't hardly ask +a question. I shelled out royally. I wanted to be known, so as to get +into Parliament some day. I did what is called 'going it blind.'" + +"How much is owing you?" + +"The books say five hundred and thirteen thousand pounds--but it's +doubtful if I can get any of it. And now Smithers & Co. will be down on +me at once." + +"What do you intend to do?" + +"I don't know." + +"Haven't you thought?" + +"No, I couldn't." + +"Well, I have." + +"What?" + +"You'll have to try to compromise." + +"What if they won't?" + +John shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. + +"After all," resumed Potts, hopefully, "it can't be so bad. The estate +is worth two millions." + +"Pooh!" + +"Isn't it?" + +"Of course not. You know what you bought it for." + +"That's because it was thrown away." + +"Well, it'll have to be thrown away again." + +"Oh, Smithers & Co.'ll be easy. They don't care for money." + +"Perhaps so. The fact is, I don't understand Smithers & Co. at all. I've +tried to see through their little game, but can't begin to do it." + +"Oh, that's easy enough! They knew I was rich, and let me have what +money I wanted." + +John looked doubtful. + +At this moment a rap was heard at the back door. + +"There comes Clark!" said he. + +Potts opened the door. Clark entered. His face was flushed, and his eyes +bloodshot. + +"See here," said he, mysteriously, as he entered the room. + +"What?" asked the others, anxiously. + +"There's two chaps at the inn. One is the Italian--" + +"Langhetti!" + +"Ay," said Clark, gloomily; "and the other is his mate--that fellow that +helped him to carry off the gal. They've done it again this time, and my +opinion is that these fellows are at the bottom of all our troubles. You +know _whose son he is_." + +Potts and John exchanged glances. + +"I went after that devil once, and I'm going to try it again. This time +I'll take some one who isn't afraid of the devil. Johnnie, is the dog at +the Hall?" + +"Yes." + +"All right!" said Clark. "I'll be even with this fellow yet, if he is in +league with the devil." + +With these words Clark went out, and left the two together. A glance of +savage exultation passed over the face of Potts. + +"If he comes back successful," said he, "all right, and if he doesn't, +why then"--He paused. + +"If he doesn't come back," said John, finishing the sentence for him, +"why then--all righter." + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +A STRUGGLE. + +All the irresolution which for a time had characterized Despard had +vanished before the shock of that great discovery which his father's +manuscript had revealed to him. One purpose now lay clearly and vividly +before him, one which to so loyal and devoted a nature as his was the +holiest duty, and that was vengeance on his father's murderers. + +In this purpose he took refuge from his own grief; he cast aside his own +longings, his anguish, his despair. Langhetti wished to search after his +"Bice;" Despard wished to find those whom his dead father had denounced +to him. In the intensity of his purpose he was careless as to the means +by which that vengeance should be accomplished. He thought not whether +it would be better to trust to the slow action of the law, or to take +the task into his own hands. His only wish was to be confronted with +either of these men, or both of them. + +It was with this feeling in his heart that he set out with Langhetti, +and the two went once more in company to the village of Brandon, where +they arrived on the first day of the "run on the bank." + +He did not know exactly what it would be best to do first. His one idea +was to go to the Hall, and confront the murderers in their own place. +Langhetti, however, urged the need of help from the civil magistrate. It +was while they were deliberating about this that a letter was brought in +addressed to the _Rev. Courtenay Despard_. + +Despard did not recognize the handwriting. In some surprise how any one +should know that was here he opened the letter, and his surprise was +still greater as he read the following: + +"SIR,--There are two men here whom you seek--one Potts, the other Clark. +You can see them both at any time. + +"The young lady whom you and Signor Langhetti formerly rescued has +escaped, and is now in safety at Denton, a village not more than twenty +miles away. She lives in the last cottage on the left-hand side of the +road, close by the sea. There is an American elm in front." + +There was no signature. + +Despard handed it in silence to Langhetti, who read it eagerly. Joy +spread over his face. He started to his feet. + +"I must go at once," said he, excitedly. "Will you?" + +"No," replied Despard. "You had better go. I must stay; my purpose is a +different one." + +"But do not you also wish to secure the safety of Bice?" + +"Of course; but I shall not be needed. You will be enough." + +Langhetti tried to persuade him, but Despard was immovable. For himself +he was too impatient to wait. He determined to set out at once. He could +not get a carriage, but he managed to obtain a horse, and with this he +set out. It was about the time when the bank had closed. + +Just before his departure Despard saw a man come from the bank and enter +the inn. He knew the face, for he had seen it when here before. It was +Clark. At the sight of this face all his fiercest instinct awoke within +him--a deep thirst for vengeance arose. He could not lose sight of +this man. He determined to track him, and thus by active pursuit to do +something toward the accomplishment of his purpose. + +He watched him, therefore, as he entered the inn, and caught a hasty +glance which Clark directed at himself and Langhetti. He did not +understand the meaning of the scowl that passed over the ruffian's face, +nor did Clark understand the full meaning of that gloomy frown which +lowered over Despard's brow as his eyes blazed wrathfully and menacingly +upon him. + +[Illustration: "THE NEXT INSTANT DESPARD HAD SEIZED HIS THROAT AND HELD +HIM SO THAT HE COULD NOT MOVE."] + +Clark came out and went to the bank. On quitting the bank Despard saw +him looking back at Langhetti, who was just leaving. He then watched him +till he went up to the Hall. + +In about half an hour Clark came back on horseback followed by a dog. He +talked for a while with the landlord, and then went off at a slow trot. + +On questioning the landlord Despard found that Clark had asked him about +the direction which Langhetti had taken. The idea at once flashed upon +him that possibly Clark wished to pursue Langhetti, in order to find out +about Beatrice. He determine on pursuit, both for Langhetti's sake and +his own. + +He followed, therefore, not far behind Clark, riding at first rapidly +till he caught sight of him at the summit of a hill in front, and then +keeping at about the same distance behind him. He had not determined +in his mind what it was best to do, but held himself prepared for any +course of action. + +After riding about an hour he put spurs to his horse, and went on at +a more rapid pace. Yet he did not overtake Clark, and therefore +conjectured that Clark himself must have gone on more rapidly. He now +put his own horse at its fullest speed, with the intention of coming up +with his enemy as soon as possible. + +He rode on at a tremendous pace for another half hour. At last the road +took a sudden turn; and, whirling around here at the utmost speed, he +burst upon a scene which was as startling as it was unexpected, and +which roused to madness all the fervid passion of his nature. + +The road here descended, and in its descent wound round a hill and +led into a gentle hollow, on each side of which hills arose which were +covered with trees. + +Within this glen was disclosed a frightful spectacle. A man lay on the +ground, torn from his horse by a huge blood-hound, which even then +was rending him with its huge fangs! The dismounted rider's foot was +entangled in the stirrups, and the horse was plunging and dragging him +along, while the dog was pulling him back. The man himself uttered not a +cry, but tried to fight off the dog with his hands as best he could. + +In the horror of the moment Despard saw that it was Langhetti. For +an instant his brain reeled. The next moment he had reached the spot. +Another horseman was standing close by, without pretending even to +interfere. Despard did not see him; he saw nothing but Langhetti. He +flung himself from his horse, and drew a revolver from his pocket. A +loud report rang through the air, and in an instant the huge blood-hound +gave a leap upward, with a piercing yell, and fell dead in the road. + +Despard flung himself on his knees beside Langhetti. He saw his hands +torn and bleeding, and blood covering his face and breast. A low groan +was all that escaped from the sufferer. + +"Leave me," he gasped. "Save Bice." + +In his grief for Langhetti, thus lying before him in such agony, Despard +forgot all else. He seized his handkerchief and tried to stanch the +blood. + +"Leave me!" gasped Langhetti again. "Bice will be lost." His head, which +Despard had supported for a moment, sank back, and life seemed to leave +him. + +Despard started up. Now for the first time he recollected the stranger; +and in an instant understood who he was, and why this had been done. +Suddenly, as he started up, he felt his pistol snatched from his hand by +a strong grasp. He turned. + +It was the horseman--it was Clark--who had stealthily dismounted, and, +in his desperate purpose, had tried to make sure of Despard. + +But Despard, quick as thought, leaped upon him, and caught his hand. In +the struggle the pistol fell to the ground. Despard caught Clark in his +arms, and then the contest began. + +Clark was of medium size, thick-set, muscular, robust, and desperate. +Despard was tall, but his frame was well knit, his muscles and sinews +were like iron, and he was inspired by a higher Spirit and a deeper +passion. + +In the first shock of that fierce embrace not a word was spoken. For +some time the struggle was maintained without result. Clark had caught +Despard at a disadvantage, and this for a time prevented the latter from +putting forth his strength effectually. + +At last he wound one arm around Clark's neck in a strangling grasp, and +forced his other arm under that of Clark. Then with one tremendous, one +resistless impulse, he put forth all his strength. His antagonist gave +way before it. He reeled. + +Despard disengaged one arm and dealt him a tremendous blow on the +temple. At the same instant he twined his legs about those of the other. +At the stroke Clark, who had already staggered, gave way utterly and +fell heavily backward, with Despard upon him. + +The next instant Despard had seized his throat and held him down so that +he could not move. + +The wretch gasped and groaned. He struggled to escape from that iron +hold in vain. The hand which had seized him was not to be shaken off. +Despard had fixed his grasp there, and there in the throat of the +fainting, suffocating wretch he held it. + +The struggles grew fainter, the arms relaxed, the face blackened, the +limbs stiffened. At last all efforts ceased. + +Despard then arose, and, turning Clark over on his face, took the bridle +from one of the horses, bound his hands behind him, and fastened his +feet securely. In the fierce struggle Clark's coat and waistcoat had +been torn away, and slipped down to some extent. His shirt-collar had +burst and slipped with them. As Despard turned him over and proceeded to +tie him, something struck his eye. It was a bright, red scar. + +He pulled down the shirt. A mark appeared, the full meaning of which +he knew not, but could well conjecture. There were three brands--fiery +red--and these were the marks: + +[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow] + + + R [sans-serif R] + + + + [plus sign] ] + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +FACE TO FACE. + +On the same evening Potts left the bank at about five o'clock, and went +up to the Hall with John. He was morose, gloomy, and abstracted. The +great question now before him was how to deal with Smithers & Co. Should +he write to them, or go and see them, or what? How could he satisfy +their claims, which he knew would now be presented? Involved in thoughts +like these, he entered the Hall, and, followed by John, went to the +dining-room, where father and son sat down to refresh themselves over a +bottle of brandy. + +They had not been seated half an hour before the noise of +carriage-wheels was heard; and on looking out they saw a dog-cart drawn +by two magnificent horses, which drove swiftly up to the portico. A +gentleman dismounted, and, throwing the reins to his servant, came up +the steps. + +The stranger was of medium size, with an aristocratic air, remarkably +regular features, of pure Grecian outline, and deep, black, lustrous +eyes. His brow was dark and stern, and clouded over by a gloomy frown. + +"Who the devil is he?" cried Potts. "D--n that porter! I told him to let +no one in to-day." + +"I believe the porter's playing fast and loose with us. But, by Jove! do +you see that fellow's eyes? Do you know who else has such eyes?" + +"No." + +"Old Smithers." + +"Smithers!" + +"Yes." + +"Then this is young Smithers?" + +"Yes; or else the devil," said John, harshly. "I begin to have an idea," +he continued. "I've been thinking about this for some time." + +"What is it?" + +"Old Smithers had these eyes. That last chap that drew the forty +thousand out of you kept his eyes covered. Here comes this fellow with +the same eyes. I begin to trace a connection between them." + +"Pooh! Old Smithers is old enough to be this man's grandfather." + +"Did you ever happen to notice that old Smithers hadn't a wrinkle in his +face?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Oh, nothing--only his hair mightn't have been natural; that's all." + +Potts and John exchanged glances, and nothing was said for some time. + +"Perhaps this Smithers & Son have been at the bottom of all this," +continued John. "They are the only ones who could have been strong +enough." + +"But why should they?" + +John shook his head. + +"Despard or Langhetti may have got them to do it. Perhaps that +d----d girl did it. Smithers & Co. will make money enough out of the +speculation to pay them. As for me and you, I begin to have a general +but very accurate idea of ruin. You are getting squeezed pretty close up +to the wall, dad, and they won't give you time to breathe." + +Before this conversation had ended the stranger had entered, and had +gone up to the drawing-room. The servant came down to announce him. + +"What name?" asked Potts. + +"He didn't give any." + +Potts looked perplexed. + +"Come now," said John. "This fellow has overreached himself at last. +He's come here; perhaps it won't be so easy for him to get out. I'll +have all the servants ready. Do you keep up your spirits. Don't get +frightened, but be plucky. Bluff him, and when the time comes ring +the bell, and I'll march in with all the servants." Potts looked for a +moment at his son with a glance of deep admiration. + +"Johnnie,--you've got more sense in your little finger than I have in my +whole body. Yes: we've got this fellow, whoever he is; and if he turns +out to be what I suspect, then we'll spring the trap on him, and he'll +learn what it is to play with edge tools." + +With these words Potts departed, and, ascending the stairs, entered the +drawing-room. + +The stranger was standing looking out of one of the windows. His +attitude brought back to Potts's recollection the scene which had once +occurred there, when old Smithers was holding Beatrice in his arms. The +recollection of this threw a flood of light on Potts's mind. He recalled +it with a savage exaltation. Perhaps they were the same, as John +said--perhaps; no, most assuredly they must be the same. + +"I've got him now, any way," murmured Potts to himself, "whoever he is." + +The stranger turned and looked at Potts for a few moments. He neither +bowed nor uttered any salutation whatever. In his look there was a +certain terrific menace, an indefinable glance of conscious power, +combined with implacable hate. The frown which usually rested on his +brow darkened and deepened till the gloomy shadows that covered them +seemed like thunder-clouds. + +Before that awful look Potts felt himself cowering involuntarily; and he +began to feel less confidence in his own power, and less sure that +the stranger had flung himself into a trap. However, the silence was +embarrassing; so at last, with an effort, he said: + +"Well; is there any thing you want of me? I'm in a hurry." + +"Yes," said the stranger, "I reached the village to-day to call at the +bank, but found it closed." + +"Oh! I suppose you've got a draft on me, too." + +"Yes," said the stranger, mysteriously. "I suppose I may call it a +draft." + +"There's no use in troubling your head about it, then," returned Potts; +"I won't pay." + +"You won't?" + +"Not a penny." + +A sharp, sudden smile of contempt flashed over the stranger's face. + +"Perhaps if you knew what the draft is, you would feel differently." + +"I don't care what it is." + +"That depends upon the drawer." + +"I don't care who the drawer is. I won't pay it. I don't care even if +it's Smithers & Co. I'll settle all when I'm ready. I'm not going to be +bullied any longer. I've borne enough. You needn't look so very grand," +he continued, pettishly; "I see through you, and you can't keep up this +sort of thing much longer." + +"You appear to hint that you know who I am?" + +"Something of that sort," said Potts, rudely; "and let me tell you I +don't care who you are." + +"That depends," rejoined the other, calmly, "very much upon +circumstances." + +"So you see," continued Potts, "you won't get any thing out of me--not +this time," he added. + +"My draft," said the stranger, "is different from those which were +presented at the bank counter." + +He spoke in a tone of deep solemnity, with a tone which seemed like the +tread of some inevitable Fate advancing upon its victim. Potts felt an +indefinable fear stealing over him in spite of himself. He said not a +word. + +"My draft," continued the stranger, in a tone which was still more +aggressive in its dominant and self-assertive power--"my draft was drawn +twenty years ago." + +Potts looked wonderingly and half fearfully at him. + +"My draft," said the other, "was drawn by Colonel Lionel Despard." + +A chill went to the heart of Potts. With a violent effort he shook off +his fear. + +"Pooh!" said he, "you're at that old story, are you? That nonsense won't +do here." + +"It was dated at sea," continued the stranger, in tones which still +deepened in awful emphasis--"at sea, when the writer was all alone." + +"It's a lie!" cried Potts, while his face grew white. + +"At sea," continued the other, ringing the changes on this one word, "at +sea--on board that ship to which you had brought him--the _Vishnu_!" + +Potts was like a man fascinated by some horrid spectacle. He looked +fixedly at his interlocutor. His jaw fell. + +"There he died," said the stranger. "Who caused his death? Will you +answer?" + +With a tremendous effort Potts again recovered command of himself. + +"You--you've been reading up old papers," replied he, in a stammering +voice. "You've got a lot of stuff in your head which you think will +frighten me. You've come to the wrong shop." + +But in spite of these words the pale face and nervous manner of Potts +showed how deep was his agitation. + +"I myself was on board the _Vishnu_," said the other. + +"You!" + +"Yes, I." + +"You! Then you must have been precious small. The _Vishnu_ went down +twenty years ago." + +"I was on board of the _Vishnu_, and I saw Colonel Despard." + +The memory of some awful scene seemed to inspire the tones of the +speaker--they thrilled through the coarse, brutal nature of the +listener. + +"I saw Colonel Despard," continued the stranger. + +"You lie!" cried Potts, roused by terror and horror to a fierce pitch of +excitement. + +"I saw Colonel Despard," repeated the stranger, for the third time, "on +board the _Vishnu_ in the Indian Sea. I learned from him his story--" + +He paused. + +"Then," cried Potts quickly, to whom there suddenly came an idea which +brought courage with it; "then, if you saw him, what concern is it of +mine? He was alive, then, and the Despard murder never took place." + +"It did take place," said the other. + +"You're talking nonsense. How could it if you saw him? He must have been +alive." + +_"He was dead!"_ replied the stranger, whose eyes had never withdrawn +themselves from those of Potts, and now seemed like two fiery orbs +blazing wrathfully upon him. The tones penetrated to the very soul +of the listener. He shuddered in spite of himself. Like most vulgar +natures, his was accessible to superstitious horror. He heard and +trembled. + +"He was dead," repeated the stranger, "and yet all that I told you is +true. I learned from him his story." + +"Dead men tell no tales," muttered Potts, in a scarce articulate voice. + +"So you thought when you locked him in, and set fire to the ship, and +scuttled her; but you see you were mistaken, for here at least was a +dead man who did tell tales, and I was the listener." + +And the mystic solemnity of the man's face seemed to mark him as one who +might indeed have held commune with the dead. + +"He told me," continued the stranger, "where he found you, and how." + +Awful expectation was manifest on the face of Potts. + +"He told me of the mark on your arm. Draw up your sleeve, Briggs, Potts, +or whatever other name you choose, and show the indelible characters +which represent the name of _Bowhani_." + +Potts started back. His lips grew ashen. His teeth chattered. + +"He gave me this," cried the stranger, in a louder voice; "and this is +the draft which you will not reject." + +He strode forward three or four paces, and flung something toward Potts. + +It was a cord, at the end of which was a metallic ball. The ball struck +the table as it fell, and rolled to the floor, but the stranger held the +other end in his hand. + +"THUG!" cried he; "do you know what that is?" + +Had the stranger been Olympian Jove, and had he flung forth from his +right hand a thunder-bolt, it could not have produced a more appalling +effect than that which was wrought upon Potts by the sight of this cord. +He started back in horror, uttering a cry half-way between a scream and +a groan. Big drops of perspiration started from his brow. He trembled +and shuddered from head to foot. His jaw fell. He stood speechless. + +"That is my draft," said the stranger. + +"What do you want?" gasped Potts. + +"The title deeds of the Brandon estates!" + +"The Brandon estates!" said Potts, in a faltering voice. + +"Yes, the Brandon estates; nothing less." + +"And will you then keep silent?" + +"I will give you the cord." + +"Will you keep silent?" + +"I am your master," said the other, haughtily, as his burning eyes fixed +themselves with a consuming gaze upon the abject wretch before him; +"I am your master. I make no promises. I spare you or destroy you as I +choose." + +These words reduced Potts to despair. In the depths of that despair +he found hope. He started up, defiant. With an oath he sprang to the +bell-rope and pulled again and again, till the peals reverberated +through the house. + +The stranger stood with a scornful smile on his face. Potts turned to +him savagely: + +"I'll teach you," he cried, "that you've come to the wrong shop. I'm not +a child. Who you are I don't know and I don't care. You are the cause of +my ruin, and you'll repent of it." + +[Illustration: "THUG! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"] + +The stranger said nothing, but stood with the same fixed and scornful +smile. A noise was heard outside, the tramp of a crowd of men. They +ascended the stairs. At last John appeared at the door of the room, +followed by thirty servants. Prominent among these was Asgeelo. Near him +was Vijal. Potts gave a triumphant smile. The servants ranged themselves +around the room. + +"Now," cried Potts, "you're in for it. You're in a trap, I think. You'll +find that I'm not a born idiot. Give up that cord!" + +The stranger said nothing, but wound up the cord coolly, placed it in +his pocket, and still regarded Potts with his scornful smile. + +"Here!" cried Potts, addressing the servants. "Catch that man, and tie +his hands and feet." + +The servants had taken their station around the room at John's order. +As Potts spoke they stood there looking at the stranger, but not one of +them moved. Vijal only started forward. The stranger turned toward him +and looked in his face. + +Vijal glanced around in surprise, waiting for the other servants. + +"You devils!" cried Potts, "do you hear what I say? Seize that man!" + +None of the servants moved. + +"It's my belief," said John, "that they're all ratting." + +"Vijal!" cried Potts, savagely, "tackle him." + +Vijal rushed forward. At that instant Asgeelo bounded forward also with +one tremendous leap, and seizing Vijal by the throat hurled him to the +floor. + +The stranger waved his hand. + +"Let him go!" said he. + +Asgeelo obeyed. + +"What the devil's the meaning of this?" cried John, looking around in +dismay. Potts also looked around. There stood the servants--motionless, +impassive. + +"For the last time," roared Potts, with a perfect volley of oaths, +"seize that man, or you'll be sorry for it." + +The servants stood motionless. The stranger remained in the same +attitude with the same sneering smile. + +"You see," said he, at last, "that you don't know me, after all. You are +in my power, Briggs--you can't get away, nor can your son." + +Potts rushed, with an oath, to the door. Half a dozen servants were +standing there. As he came furiously toward them they held out their +clenched fists. He rushed upon them. They beat him back. He fell, +foaming at the lips. + +John stood, cool and unmoved, looking around the room, and learning from +the face of each servant that they were all beyond his authority. He +folded his arms, and said nothing. + +"You appear to have been mistaken in your man," said the stranger, +coolly. "These are not your servants; they're mine. Shall I tell them to +seize you?" + +Potts glared at him with bloodshot eyes, but said nothing. + +"Shall I tell them to pull up your sleeve and display the mark of +Bowhani, Sir? Shall I tell who and what you are? Shall I begin from your +birth and give them a full and complete history of your life?" + +Potts looked around like a wild beast in the arena, seeking for some +opening for escape, but finding nothing except hostile faces. + +"Do what you like!" he cried, desperately, with an oath, and sank down +into stolid despair. + +"No; you don't mean that," said the other. "For I have some London +policemen at the inn, and I might like best to hand you over to them +on charges which you can easily imagine. You don't wish me to do so, +I think. You'd prefer being at large to being chained up in a cell, or +sent to Botany Bay, I suppose? Still, if you prefer it, I will at once +arrange an interview between yourself and these gentlemen." + +"What do you want?" anxiously asked Potts, who now thought that he might +come to terms, and perhaps gain his escape from the clutches of his +enemy. + +"The title deeds of the Brandon estate," said the stranger. + +"Never!" + +"Then off you go. They must be mine, at any rate. Nothing can prevent +that. Either give them now and begone, or delay, and you go at once to +jail." + +"I won't give them," said Potts, desperately. + +"Cato!" said the stranger, "go and fetch the policemen." + +"Stop!" cried John. + +At a sign Asgeelo, who had already taken two steps toward the door, +paused. + +"Here, dad," said John, "you've got to do it. You might as well hand +over the papers. You don't want to get into quod, I think." + +Potts turned his pale face to his son. + +"Do it!" exclaimed John. + +"Well," he said, with a sigh, "since I've got to, I've got to, I +suppose. You know best, Johnnie. I always said you had a long head." + +"I must go and get them," he continued. + +"I'll go with you; or no--Cato shall go with you, and I'll wait here." + +The Hindu went with Potts, holding his collar in his powerful grasp, and +taking care to let Potts see the hilt of a knife which he carried up his +sleeve, in the other hand. + +After about a quarter of an hour they returned, and Potts handed over to +the stranger some papers. He looked at them carefully, and put them in +his pocket. He then gave Potts the cord. Potts took it in an abstracted +way, and said nothing. + +"You must leave this Hall to-night," said the stranger, sternly--"you +and your son. I remain here." + +"Leave the Hall?" gasped Potts. + +"Yes." + +For a moment he stood overwhelmed. He looked at John. John nodded his +head slowly. + +"You've got to do it, dad," said he. + +Potts turned savagely at the stranger. He shook his clenched fist at +him. + +"D--n you!" he cried. "Are you satisfied yet? I know you. I'll pay you +up. What complaint have you against me, I'd like to know? I never harmed +you." + +"You don't know me, or you wouldn't say that." + +"I do. You're Smithers & Co." + +"True; and I'm several other people. I've had the pleasure of an +extended intercourse with you. For I'm not only Smithers & Co., but +I'm also Beamish & Hendricks, American merchants. I'm also Bigelow, +Higginson, & Co., solicitors to Smithers & Co. Besides, I'm your London +broker, who attended to your speculations in stocks. Perhaps you think +that you don't know me after all." + +As he said this Potts and John exchanged glances of wonder. + +"Tricked!" cried Potts--"deceived! humbugged! and ruined! Who are you? +What have you against me? Who are you? Who?" + +And he gazed with intense curiosity upon the calm face of the stranger, +who, in his turn, looked upon him with the air of one who was surveying +from a superior height some feeble creature far beneath him. + +"Who am I?" he repeated. "Who? I am the one to whom all this belongs. I +am one whom you have injured so deeply, that what I have done to you is +nothing in comparison." + +"Who are you?" cried Potts, with feverish impatience. "It's a lie. I +never injured you. I never saw you before till you came yourself to +trouble me. Those whom I have injured are all dead, except that parson, +the son of--of the officer." + +"There are others." + +Potts said nothing, but looked with some fearful discovery dawning upon +him. + +"You know me now!" cried the stranger. "I see it in your face." + +"You're not _him_!" exclaimed Potts, in a piercing voice. + +"I am LOUIS BRANDON!" + +"I knew it! I knew it!" cried John, in a voice which was almost a +shriek. + +"Cigole played false. I'll make him pay for this," gasped Potts. + +"Cigole did not play false. He killed me as well as he could--But away, +both of you. I can not breathe while you are here. I will allow you an +hour to be gone." + +At the end of the hour Brandon of Brandon Hall was at last master in the +home of his ancestors. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + + +THE COTTAGE. + +When Despard had bound Clark he returned to look after Langhetti. He lay +feebly and motionless upon the ground. Despard carefully examined his +wounds. His injuries were very severe. His arms were lacerated, and his +shoulder torn; blood also was issuing from a wound on the side of his +neck. Despard bound these as best he could, and then sat wondering what +could be done next. + +He judged that he might be four or five miles from Denton, and saw that +this was the place to which he must go. Besides, Beatrice was there, +and she could nurse Langhetti. But how could he get there?--that was the +question. It was impossible for Langhetti to go on horseback. He tried +to form some plan by which this might be done. He began to make a sort +of litter to be hung between two horses, and had already cut down with +his knife two small trees or rather bushes for this purpose, when the +noise of wheels on the road before him attracted his attention. + +It was a farmer's wagon, and it was coming from the direction of Denton. +Despard stopped it, explained his situation, and offered to pay any +thing if the farmer would turn back and convey his friend and his +prisoner to Denton. It did not take long to strike a bargain; the farmer +turned his horses, some soft shrubs and ferns were strewn on the bottom +of the wagon, and on these Langhetti was deposited carefully. Clark, +who by this time had come to himself, was put at one end, where he +sat grimly and sulkily; the three horses were led behind, and Despard, +riding on the wagon, supported the head of Langhetti on his knees. + +Slowly and carefully they went to the village. Despard had no difficulty +in finding the cottage. It was where the letter had described it. The +village inn stood near on the opposite side of the road. + +It was about nine o'clock in the evening when they reached the cottage. +Lights were burning in the windows. Despard jumped out hastily and +knocked. A servant came. Despard asked for the mistress, and Beatrice +appeared. As she recognized him her face lighted up with joy. But +Despard's face was sad and gloomy. He pressed her hand in silence and +said: + +"My dear adopted sister, I bring you our beloved Langhetti." + +"Langhetti!" she exclaimed, fearfully. + +"He has met with an accident. Is there a doctor in the place? Send your +servant at once." + +Beatrice hurried in and returned with a servant. + +"We will first lift him out," said Despard. "Is there a bed ready?" + +"Oh yes! Bring him in!" cried Beatrice, who was now in an agony of +suspense. + +She hurried after them to the wagon. They lifted Langhetti out and took +him into a room which Beatrice showed them. They tenderly laid him on +the bed. Meanwhile the servant had hurried off for a doctor, who soon +appeared. + +Beatrice sat by his bedside; she kissed the brow of the almost +unconscious sufferer, and tried in every possible way to alleviate his +pain. The doctor soon arrived, dressed his wounds, and left directions +for his care, which consisted chiefly in constant watchfulness. + +Leaving Langhetti under the charge of Beatrice, Despard went in search +of a magistrate. He found one without any difficulty, and before an hour +Clark was safe in jail. The information which Despard lodged against him +was corroborated by the brands on his back, which showed him to be a man +of desperate character, who had formerly been transported for crime. + +Despard next wrote a letter to Mrs. Thornton. He told her about +Langhetti, and urged her to come on immediately and bring Edith +with her. Then he returned to the cottage and wished to sit up with +Langhetti. Beatrice, however, would not let him. She said that no +one should deprive her of the place by his bedside. Despard remained, +however, and the two devoted equal attention to the sufferer. Langhetti +spoke only once. He was so faint that his voice was scarce audible. +Beatrice put her ear close to his mouth. + +"What is it?" asked Despard. + +"He wants Edith," said Beatrice. + +"I have written for her," said Despard. + +Beatrice whispered this to Langhetti. An ecstatic smile passed over his +face. + +"It is well," he murmured. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + + +THE WORM TURNS. + +Potts departed from the Hall in deep dejection. The tremendous power of +his enemy had been shown all along; and now that this enemy turned out +to be Louis Brandon, he felt as though some supernatural being had taken +up arms against him. Against that being a struggle seemed as hopeless as +it would be against Fate. It was with some such feeling as this that he +left Brandon Hall forever. + +All of his grand projects had broken down, suddenly and utterly. He had +not a ray of hope left of ever regaining the position which he had but +recently occupied. He was thrust back to the obscurity from which he had +emerged. + +One thing troubled him. Would the power of his remorseless enemy be now +stayed--would his vengeance end here? He could scarce hope for this. He +judged that enemy by himself, and he knew that he would not stop in the +search after vengeance, that nothing short of the fullest and direst +ruin--nothing, in fact, short of death itself would satisfy him. + +John was with him, and Vijal, who alone out of all the servants had +followed his fortunes. These three walked down and passed through the +gates together, and emerged into the outer world in silence. But when +they had left the gates the silence ended. + +"Well, dad!" said John, "what are you going to do now?" + +"I don't know." + +"Have you any money?" + +"Four thousand pounds in the bank." + +"Not much, dad," said John, slowly, "for a man who last month was worth +millions. You're coming out at the little end of the horn." + +Potts made no reply. + +"At any rate there's one comfort," said John, "even about that." + +"What comfort?" + +"Why, you went in at the little end." + +They walked on in silence. + +"You must do something," said John at last. + +"What can I do?" + +"You won't let that fellow ride the high horse in this style, will you?" + +"How can I help it?" + +"You can't help it; but you can strike a blow yourself." + +"How?" + +"How? You've struck blows before to some purpose, I think." + +"But I never yet knew any one with such tremendous power as this man +has. And where did he get all his money? You said before that he was the +devil, and I believe it. Where's Clark? Do you think he has succeeded?" + +"No," said John. + +"No more do I. This man has every body in his pay. Look at the servants! +See how easily he did what he wished!" + +"You've got one servant left." + +"Ah, yes--that's a fact." + +"That servant will do something for you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Brandon is a man, after all--and can _die_," said John, with deep +emphasis. "Vijal," he continued, in a whisper, "hates me, but he would +lay down his life for you." + +"I understand," said Potts, after a pause. + +A long silence followed. + +"You go on to the inn," said Potts, at last. "I'll talk with Vijal." + +"Shall I risk the policemen?" + +"Yes, you run no risk. I'll sleep in the bank." + +"All right," said John, and he walked away. + +"Vijal," said Potts, dropping back so as to wait for the Malay. "You are +faithful to me." + +"Yes," answered Vijal. + +"All the others betrayed me, but you did not?" + +"Never." + +"Do you know when you first saw me?" + +"Yes." + +"I saved your life." + +"Yes." + +"Your father was seized at Manilla and killed for murder, but I +protected you, and promised to take care of you. Haven't I done so?" + +"Yes," said Vijal humbly, and in a reverent tone. + +"Haven't I been another father?" + +"You have." + +"Didn't I promise to tell you some day who the man was that killed your +father?" + +"Yes," exclaimed Vijal, fiercely. + +"Well, I'm going to tell you." + +"Who?" cried Vijal, in excitement so strong that he could scarce speak. + +"Did you see that man who drove me out of the Hall?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, that was the man. He killed your father. He has ruined me--your +other father. What do you say to that?" + +"He shall die," returned Vijal, solemnly. "He shall die." + +"I am an old man," resumed Potts. "If I were as strong as I used to be I +would not talk about this to you. I would do it all myself." + +"I'll do it!" cried Vijal. "I'll do it!" + +His eyes flashed, his nostrils dilated--all the savage within him was +aroused. Potts saw this, and rejoiced. + +"Do you know how to use this?" he asked, showing Vijal the cord which +Brandon had given him. + +Vijal's eyes dilated, and a wilder fire shone in them. He seized the +cord, turned it round his hand for a moment, and then hurled it at +Potts. It passed round and round his waist. + +"Ah!" said Potts, with deep gratification. "You have not forgotten, +then. You can throw it skillfully." + +Vijal nodded, and said nothing. + +"Keep the cord. Follow up that man. Avenge your father's death and my +ruin." + +"I will," said Vijal, sternly. + +"It may take long. Follow him up. Do not come back to me till you come +to tell me that he is dead." + +Vijal nodded. + +"Now I am going. I must fly and hide myself from this man. As long as he +lives I am in danger. But you will always find John at the inn when you +wish to see me." + +"I will lay down my life for you," said Vijal. + +"I don't want your life," returned Potts. "I want _his_." + +"You shall have it," exclaimed Vijal. + +Potts said no more. He handed Vijal his purse in silence. The latter +took it without a word. Potts then went toward the bank, and Vijal stood +alone in the road. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + + +ON THE ROAD. + +On the following morning Brandon started from the Hall at an early hour. +He was on horseback. He rode down through the gates. Passing through the +village he went by the inn and took the road to Denton. + +He had not gone far before another horseman followed him. The latter +rode at a rapid pace. Brandon did not pay any especial attention to +him, and at length the latter overtook him. It was when they were nearly +abreast that Brandon recognized the other. It was Vijal. + +"Good-morning," said Vijal. + +"Good-morning," replied Brandon. + +"Are you going to Denton?" + +"Yes." + +"So am I," said Vijal. + +Brandon was purposely courteous, although it was not exactly the thing +for a gentleman to be thus addressed by a servant. He saw that this +servant had overreached himself, and knew that he must have some motive +for joining him and addressing him in so familiar a manner. + +He suspected what might be Vijal's aim, and therefore kept a close watch +on him. He saw that Vijal, while holding the reins in his left hand, +kept his right hand concealed in his breast. A suspicion darted across +his mind. He stroked his mustache with his own right hand, which he kept +constantly upraised, and talked cheerfully and patronizingly with his +companion. After a while he fell back a little and drew forth a knife, +which he concealed in his hand, and then he rode forward as before +abreast of the other, assuming the appearance of perfect calm and +indifference. + +"Have you left Potts?" said Brandon, after a short time. + +"No," replied Vijal. + +"Ah! Then you are on some business of his now?" + +"Yes." + +Brandon was silent. + +"Would you like to know what it is?" asked Vijal. + +"Not particularly," said Brandon, coldly. + +"Shall I tell you?" + +"If you choose." + +Vijal raised his hand suddenly and gave a quick, short jerk. A cord flew +forth--there was a weight at the end. The cord was flung straight at +Brandon's neck. + +But Brandon had been on his guard. At the movement of Vijal's arm he had +raised his own; the cord passed around him, but his arm was within its +embrace. In his hand he held a knife concealed. In an instant he slashed +his knife through the windings of the cord, severing them all; then +dropping the knife he plunged his hand into the pocket of his coat, and +before Vijal could recover from his surprise he drew forth a revolver +and pointed it at him. + +[Illustration: VIJAL LOOKED EARNESTLY AT IT. HE SAW THESE WORDS: "JOHN +POTTS."] + +Vijal saw at once that he was lost. He nevertheless plunged his spurs +into his horse and made a desperate effort to escape. As his horse +bounded off Brandon fired. The animal gave a wild neigh, which sounded +almost like a shriek, and fell upon the road, throwing Vijal over his +head. + +In an instant Brandon was up with him. He leaped from his horse before +Vijal had disencumbered himself from his, and seizing the Malay by the +collar held the pistol at his head. + +"If you move," he cried, sternly, "I'll blow your brains out!" + +Vijal lay motionless. + +"Scoundrel!" exclaimed Brandon, as he held him with the revolver pressed +against his head, "who sent you to do this?" + +Vijal in sullen silence answered nothing. + +"Tell me or I'll kill you. Was it Potts?" + +Vijal made no reply. + +"Speak out," cried Brandon. "Fool that you are, I don't want _your_ +life." + +"You are the murderer of my father," said Vijal, fiercely, "and +therefore I sought to kill you." + +Brandon gave a low laugh. + +"The murderer of your father?" he repeated. + +"Yes," cried Vijal, wildly; "and I sought your death." + +Brandon laughed again. + +"Do you know how old I am?" + +Vijal looked up in amazement. He saw by that one look what he had not +thought of before in his excitement, that Brandon was a younger man than +himself by several years. He was silent. + +"How many years is it since your father died?" + +Vijal said nothing. + +"Fool!" exclaimed Brandon. "It is twenty years. You are false to your +father. You pretend to avenge his death, and you seek out a young man +who had no connection with it. I was in England when he was killed. I +was a child only seven years of age. Do you believe now that I am his +murderer?" + +Brandon, while speaking in this way, had relaxed his hold, though he +still held his pistol pointed at the head of his prostrate enemy. Vijal +gave a long, low sigh. + +"You were too young," said he, at last. "You are younger than I am. I +was only twelve." + +"I could not have been his murderer, then?" + +"No." + +"Yet I know who his murderer was, for I have found out." + +"Who?" + +"The same man who killed my own father." + +Vijal looked at Brandon with awful eyes. + +"Your father had a brother?" said Brandon. + +"Yes." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes. Zangorri." + +"Right. Well, do you know what Zangorri did to avenge his brother's +death?" + +"No; what?" + +"For many years he vowed death to all Englishmen, since it was an +Englishman who had caused the death of his brother. He had a ship; he +got a crew and sailed through the Eastern seas, capturing English ships +and killing the crews. This was his vengeance." Vijal gave a groan. + +"You see he has done more than you. He knew better than you who it was +that had killed your father." + +"Who was it?" cried Vijal, fiercely. + +"I saw him twice," continued Brandon, without noticing the question, of +the other. "I saw him twice, and twice he told me the name of the man +whose death he sought. For year after year he had sought after that man, +but had not found him. Hundreds of Englishmen had fallen. He told me the +name of the man whom he sought, and charged me to carry out his work of +vengeance. I promised to do so, for I had a work of vengeance of my own +to perform, and on the same man, too. + +"Who was he?" repeated Vijal, with increased excitement. + +"When I saw him last he gave me something which he said he had worn +around his neck for years. I took it, and promised to wear it till the +vengeance which he sought should be accomplished. I did so for I too had +a debt of vengeance stronger than his, and on the same man." + +"Who was he?" cried Vijal again, with restless impetuosity. + +Brandon unbuttoned his vest and drew forth a Malay creese, which was +hung around his neck and worn under his coat. + +"Do you know what this is?" he asked, solemnly. + +Vijal took it and looked at it earnestly. His eyes dilated, his nostrils +quivered. + +"My father's!" he cried, in a tremulous voice. + +"Can you read English letters?" + +"Yes." + +"Can you read the name that is cut upon it?" + +And Brandon pointed to a place where some letters were carved. + +Vijal looked earnestly at it. He saw these words: + + JOHN POTTS. + +"That," said Brandon, "is what your father's brother gave to me." + +"It's a lie!" growled Vijal, fiercely. + +"It's true," said Brandon, calmly, "and it was carved there by your +father's own hand." + +Vijal said nothing for a long time. Brandon arose, and put his pistol +in his pocket. Vijal, disencumbering himself from his horse, arose also. +The two stood together on the road. + +For hours they remained there talking. At last Brandon remounted and +rode on to Denton. But Vijal went back to the village of Brandon. He +carried with him the creese which Brandon had given him. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + + +FATHER AND SON. + +Vijal, on going back to Brandon village, went first to the inn where +he saw John. To the inquiries which were eagerly addressed to him he +answered nothing, but simply said that he wished to see Potts. John, +finding him impracticable, cursed him and led the way to the bank. + +As Vijal entered Potts locked the door carefully, and then anxiously +questioned him. Vijal gave a plain account of every thing exactly as it +had happened, but with some important alterations and omissions. In the +first place, he said nothing whatever of the long interview which had +taken place and the startling information which he had received. In the +second place, he assured Potts that he must have attacked the wrong man. +For when this man had spared his life he looked at him closely and found +out that he was not the one that he ought to have attacked. + +"You blasted fool," cried Potts. "Haven't you got eyes? D--n you; I wish +the fellow, whoever he is, had seized you, or blown your brains out." + +Vijal cast down his eyes humbly. + +"I can try again," said he. "I have made a mistake this time; the next +time I will make sure." + +There was something in the tone of his voice so remorseless and so +vengeful that Potts felt reassured. + +"You are a good lad," said he, "a good lad. And you'll try again?" + +"Yes," said Vijal, with flashing eyes. + +"You'll make sure this time?" + +"I'll make sure this time. But I must have some one with me," he +continued. "You need not trouble yourself. Send John with me. He won't +mistake. If he is with me I'll make sure." + +As the Malay said this a brighter and more vivid flash shone from +his eyes. He gave a malevolent smile, and his white teeth glistened +balefully. Instantly he checked the smile, and cast down his eyes. + +"Ah!" said Potts. "That is very good. John shall go. Johnnie, you don't +mind going, do you?" + +"I'll go," said John, languidly. + +"You'll know the fellow, won't you?" + +"I rather think I should." + +"But what will you do first?" + +"Go to Denton," said John. + +"To Denton?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"Because Brandon is there." + +"How can he be?" + +"Simply," said John, "because I know the man that Vijal attacked must +have been Brandon. No other person answers to the description. No +other person would be so quick to dodge the cord, and so quick with the +revolver. He has humbugged Vijal somehow, and this fool of a nigger +has believed him. He was Brandon, and no one else, and I'm going on his +track." + +"Well--you're right, perhaps," said Potts; "but take care of yourself, +Johnnie." + +John gave a dry smile. + +"I'll try to do so and I hope to take care of others also," said he. + +"God bless you, Johnnie!" said Potts, affectionately, not knowing the +blasphemy of invoking the blessing of God on one who was setting out to +commit murder. + +"You're spooney, dad," returned John, and he left the bank with Vijal. + +John went back to the inn first, and after a few preparations started +for Denton. On the way he amused himself with coarse jests at Vijal's +stupidity in allowing himself to be deceived by Brandon, taunted him +with cowardice in yielding so easily, and assured him that one who was +so great a coward could not possibly succeed in any undertaking. + +Toward evening they reached the inn at Denton. John was anxious not to +show himself, so he went at once to the inn, directing Vijal to keep a +look-out for Brandon and let him know if he saw any one who looked like +him. These directions were accompanied and intermingled with numerous +threats as to what he would do if Vijal dared to fail in any particular. +The Malay listened calmly, showing none of that impatience and haughty +resentment which he formerly used to manifest toward John, and quietly +promised to do what was ordered. + +About ten o'clock John happened to look on of the window. He saw a +figure standing where the light from the windows flashed out, which +at once attracted his attention. It was the man whom he sought--it was +Brandon. Was he stopping at the same inn? If so, why had not Vijal told +him? He at once summoned Vijal, who came as calm as ever. To John's +impatient questions as to why he had not told him about Brandon, he +answered that Brandon had only come there half an hour previously, and +that he had been watching him ever since to see what he was going to do. + +"You most keep on watching him, then; do you hear?" + +"Yes." + +"And if you let him slip this time, you infernal nigger, you'll pay dear +for it." + +"I'll not make a mistake this time," was Vijal's answer. And as he spoke +his eyes gleamed, and again that baleful smile passed over his face. + +"That's the man," said John. "You understand that? That's the man you've +got to fix, do you hear? Don't be a fool this time. You must manage it +to-night, for I don't want to wait here forever. I leave it to you. I +only came to make sure of the man. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed soon. +When I wake to-morrow I expect to hear from you that you have finished +this business. If you don't, d--n you, I'll wring your infernal nigger's +neck." + +"It will all be done by to-morrow," said Vijal, calmly. + +"Then clear out and leave me. I'm going to bed. What you've got to do is +to watch that man." + +Vijal retired. + +The night passed. When the following morning came John was not up at the +ordinary breakfast hour. Nine o'clock came. Ten o'clock. Still he did +not appear. + +"He's a lazy fellow," said the landlord, "though he don't look like it. +And where's his servant?" + +"The servant went back to Brandon at day-break," was the answer. + +Eleven o'clock came. Still there were no signs of John. There was +a balcony in the inn which ran in front of the windows of the room +occupied by John. After knocking at the door once or twice the landlord +tapped at the window and tried to peep in to see if the occupant was +awake or not. One part, of the blind was drawn a little aside, and +showed the bed and the form of a man still lying there. + +"He's an awful sleeper," said the landlord. "It's twelve o'clock, and he +isn't up yet. Well, it's his business, not mine." + +About half an hour after the noise of wheels was heard, and a wagon +drove swiftly into the yard of the inn. An old man jumped out, gave his +horse to the hostler, and entered the inn. + +He was somewhat flushed and flurried. His eyes twinkled brightly, +and there was a somewhat exuberant familiarity in his address to the +landlord. + +"There was a party who stopped here last night," said he, "that I wish +to see." + +"There was only one person here last night," answered the landlord; "a +young man--" + +"A young man, yes--that's right; I want to see him." + +"Well, as to that," said the landlord, "I don't know but you'll have to +wait. He ain't up yet." + +"Isn't he up yet?" + +"No; he's an awful sleeper. He went to bed last night early, for his +lights were out before eleven, and now it's nearly one, and he isn't +up." + +"At any rate, I must see him." + +"Shall I wake him?" + +[Illustration: HE TORE DOWN THE COVERLET, WHICH CONCEALED THE GREATER +PART OF HIS FACE.] + +"Yes, and be quick, for I'm in a hurry." + +The landlord went up to the door and knocked loudly. There was no +answer. He knocked still more loudly. Still no answer. He then kept up +an incessant rapping for about ten minutes. Still there was no answer. +He had tried the door before, but it was locked on the inside. He went +around to the windows that opened on the balcony; these were open. + +He then went down and told the old man that the door was fastened, but +that the windows were unfastened. If he chose to go in there he might do +so. + +"I will do so," said the other, "for I must see him. I have business of +importance." He went up. + +The landlord and some of the servants, whose curiosity was by this time +excited, followed after. + +The old man opened the window, which swung back on hinges, and entered. +There was a man in the bed. + +He lay motionless. The old man approached. He recognized the face. + +A cold chill went to his heart. He tore down the coverlet, which +concealed the greater part of his face. The next moment he fell forward +upon the bed. + +"Johnnie!" he screamed--"Johnnie!" + +There was no answer. The face was rigid and fixed. Around the neck was a +faint, bluish line, a mark like what might have been made by a cord. + +"Johnnie, Johnnie!" cried the old man again, in piercing tones. He +caught at the hands of the figure before him; he tried to pull it +forward. + +There was no response. The old man turned away and rushed to the window, +gasping, with white lips, and bloodshot eyes, and a face of horror. + +"He is dead!" he shrieked. "My boy--my son--my Johnnie! Murderer! You +have killed him." + +The landlord and the servants started back in horror from the presence +of this father in his misery. + +It was for but a moment that he stood there. He went back and flung +himself upon the bed. Then he came forth again and stood upon the +balcony, motionless, white-faced, speechless--his lips muttering +inaudible words. + +A crowd gathered round. The story soon spread. This was the father of a +young man who had stopped at the inn and died suddenly. The crowd that +gathered around the inn saw the father as he stood on the balcony. + +The dwellers in the cottage that was almost opposite saw him, and +Asgeelo brought them the news. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + + +MRS. COMPTON'S SECRET. + +On the night after the arrival of John, Brandon had left Denton. He +did not return till the following day. On arriving at the inn he saw an +unusual spectacle--the old man on the balcony, the crowd of villagers +around, the universal excitement. + +On entering the inn he found some one who for some time had been waiting +to see him. It was Philips. Philips had come early in the morning, and +had been over to the cottage. He had learned all about the affair at the +inn, and narrated it to Brandon, who listened with his usual calmness. +He then gave him a letter from Frank, which Brandon read, and put in his +pocket. + +Then Philips told him the news which he had learned at the cottage about +Langhetti. Langhetti and Despard were both there yet, the former very +dangerously ill, the latter waiting for some friends. He also told about +the affair on the road, the seizure of Clark, and his delivery into the +hands of the authorities. + +Brandon heard all this with the deepest interest. While the excitement +at the inn was still at its height, he hurried off to the magistrate +into whose hands Clark had been committed. After an interview with +him he returned. He found the excitement unabated. He then went to the +cottage close by the inn, where Beatrice had found a home, and Langhetti +a refuge. Philips was with him. + +On knocking at the door Asgeelo opened it. They entered the parlor, and +in a short time Mrs. Compton appeared. Brandon's first inquiry was after +Langhetti. + +"He is about the same," said Mrs. Compton. + +"Does the doctor hold out any hopes of his recovery?" asked Brandon, +anxiously. + +"Very little," said Mrs. Compton. + +"Who nurses him?" + +"Miss Potts and Mr. Despard." + +"Are they both here?" + +"Yes." + +Brandon was silent. + +"I will go and tell them that you are here," said Mrs. Compton. + +Brandon made no reply, and Mrs. Compton, taking silence for assent, went +to announce his arrival. + +In a short time they appeared. Beatrice entered first. She was grave, +and cold, and solemn; Despard was gloomy and stern. They both shook +hands with Brandon in silence. Beatrice gave her hand without a word, +lifelessly and coldly; Despard took his hand abstractedly. + +Brandon looked earnestly at Beatrice as she stood there before him, +calm, sad, passionless, almost repellent in her demeanor, and wondered +what the cause might be of such a change. + +Mrs. Compton stood apart at a little distance, near Philips, and looked +on with a strange expression, half wistful, half timid. + +There was a silence which at length became embarrassing. From the room +where they were sitting the inn could plainly be seen, with the crowd +outside. Beatrice's eyes were directed toward this. Despard said not +a word. At another time he might have been strongly interested in this +man, who on so many accounts was so closely connected with him; but now +the power of some dominant and all-engrossing idea possessed him, and he +seemed to take no notice of any things whatever either without the house +or within. + +After looking in silence at the inn for a long time Beatrice withdrew +her gaze. Brandon regarded her with a fixed and earnest glance, as +though he would read her inmost soul. She looked at him, and cast down +her eyes. + +"You abhor me!" said he, in a loud, thrilling voice. + +She said nothing, but pointed toward the inn. + +"You know all about that?" + +Beatrice bowed her head silently. + +"And you look upon me as guilty?" + +She gazed at him, but said nothing. It was a cold, austere gaze, without +one touch of softness. + +"After all," said she, "he was my father. You had your vengeance to +take, and you have taken it. You may now exult, but my heart bleeds." + +Brandon started to his feet. + +"As God lives," he cried, "I did not do that thing!" + +Beatrice looked up mournfully and inquiringly. + +"If it had been his base life which I sought," said Brandon, vehemently, +"I might long ago have taken it. He was surrounded on all sides by my +power. He could not escape. Officers of the law stood ready to do my +bidding. Yet I allowed him to leave the Hall in safety. I might have +taken his heart's-blood. I might have handed him over to the law. I did +not." + +"No," said Beatrice, in icy tones, "you did not; you sought a deeper +vengeance. You cared not to take his life. It was sweeter to you to +take his son's life and give him agony. Death would have been +insufficient--anguish was what you wished. + +"It is not for me to blame you," she continued, while Brandon looked +at her without a word. "Who am I--a polluted one, of the accursed +brood--who am I, to stand between you and him, or to blame you if you +seek for vengeance? I am nothing. You have done kindnesses to me which I +now wish were undone. Oh that I had died under the hand of the pirates! +Oh that the ocean had swept me down to death with all its waves! Then I +should not have lived to see this day!" + +Roused by her vehemence Despard started from his abstraction and looked +around. + +"It seems to me," said he, "as if you were blaming some one for +inflicting suffering on a man for whom no suffering can be too great. +What! can you think of your friend as he lies there in the next room in +his agony, dying, torn to pieces by this man's agency, and have pity for +him?" + +"Oh!" cried Beatrice, "is he not my father?" + +Mrs. Compton looked around with staring eyes, and trembled from head to +foot. Her lips moved--she began to speak, but the words died away on her +lips. + +"Your father!" said Despard; "his acts have cut him off from a +daughter's sympathy." + +"Yet he has a father's feelings, at least for his dead son. Never shall +I forget his look of anguish as he stood on the balcony. His face was +turned this way. He seemed to reproach me." + +"Let me tell you," cried Despard, harshly. "He has not yet made +atonement for his crimes. This is but the beginning. I have a debt of +vengeance to extort from him. One scoundrel has been handed over to the +law, another lies dead, another is in London in the hands of Langhetti's +friends, the Carbonari. The worst one yet remains, and my father's voice +cries to me day and night from that dreadful ship." + +"Your father's voice!" cried Beatrice. She looked at Despard. Their eyes +met. Something passed between them in that glance which brought back the +old, mysterious feeling which she had known before. Despard rose hastily +and left the room. + +"In God's name," cried Brandon, "I say that this man's life was not +sought by me, nor the life of any of his. I will tell you all. When he +compassed the death of Uracao, of whom you know, he obtained possession +of his son, then a mere boy, and carried him away. He kept this lad with +him and brought him up with the idea that he was his best friend, and +that he would one day show him his father's murderer. After I made +myself known to him, he told Vijal that I was this murderer. Vijal tried +to assassinate me. I foiled him, and could have killed him. But I spared +his life. I then told him the truth. That is all that I have done. Of +course, I knew that Vijal would seek for vengeance. That was not my +concern. Since Potts had sent him to seek my life under a lie, I sent +him away with knowledge of the truth. I do not repent that told him; nor +is there any guilt chargeable to me. The man that lies dead there is not +my victim. Yet if he were--oh, Beatrice! if he were--what then? Could +that atone for what I have suffered? My father ruined and broken-hearted +and dying in a poor-house calls to me always for vengeance. My mother +suffering in the emigrant ship, and dying of the plague amidst horrors +without a name calls to me. Above all my sweet sister, my pure Edith--" + +"Edith!" interrupted Beatrice--"Edith!" + +"Yes; do you not know that? She was buried alive." + +"What!" cried Beatrice; "is it possible that you do not know that she is +alive?" + +"Alive!" + +"Yes, alive; for when I was at Holly I saw her." + +Brandon stood speechless with surprise. + +"Langhetti saved her," said Beatrice. "His sister has charge of her +now." + +"Where, where is she?" asked Brandon, wildly. + +"In a convent at London." + +At this moment Despard entered. + +"Is this true?" asked Brandon, with a deeper agitation than had ever yet +been seen in him--"my sister, is it true that she is not dead?" + +"It is true. I should have told you," said Despard, "but other thoughts +drove it from my mind, and I forgot that you might be ignorant." + +"How is it possible? I was at Quebec myself. I have sought over the +world after my relatives--" + +"I will tell you," said Despard. + +He sat down and began to tell the story of Edith's voyage and all that +Langhetti had done, down to the time of his rescue of her from death. +The recital filled Brandon with such deep amazement that he had not a +word to say. He listened like one stupefied. + +"Thank God!" he cried at last when it was ended; "thank God, I am spared +this last anguish; I am freed from the thought which for years has been +most intolerable. The memories that remain are bitter enough, but they +are not so terrible as this. But I must see her. I must find her. Where +is she?" + +"Make yourself easy on that score," said Despard, calmly. "She will be +here to-morrow or the day after. I have written to Langhetti's sister; +she will come, and will bring your sister with her." + +"I should have told you so before," said Beatrice, "but my own troubles +drove every thing else from my mind." + +"Forgive me," said Brandon, "for intruding now. I came in to learn about +Langhetti. You look upon me with horror. I will withdraw." + +Beatrice bowed her head, and tears streamed from her eyes. Brandon took +her hand. + +"Farewell," he murmured; "farewell, Beatrice. You will not condemn me +when I say that I am innocent?" + +"I am accursed," she murmured. + +Despard looked at these two with deep anxiety. + +"Stay," said he to Brandon. "There is something which must be explained. +There is a secret which Langhetti has had for years, and which he has +several times been on the point of telling. I have just spoken to him +and told him that you are here. He says he will tell his secret now, +whatever it is. He wishes us all to come in--and you too, especially," +said Despard, looking at Mrs. Compton. + +The poor old creature began to tremble. + +"Don't be afraid, old woman," said Philips. "Take my arm and I'll +protect you." + +She rose, and, leaning on his arm, followed the others into Langhetti's +room. He was fearfully emaciated. His material frame, worn down by pain +and confinement, seemed about to dissolve and let free that soaring soul +of his, whose fiery impulses had for years chafed against the prison +bars of its mortal inclosure. His eyes shone darkly and luminously from +their deep, hollow sockets, and upon his thin, wan, white lips there was +a faint smile of welcome--faint like the smile of the sick, yet sweet as +the smile of an angel. + +It was with such a smile that he greeted Brandon, and with both of his +thin white hands pressed the strong and muscular hand of the other. + +"And you are Edith's brother," he said. "Edith's brother," he repeated, +resting lovingly upon that name, Edith. "She always said you were alive, +and once she told me she should live to see you. Welcome, brother of my +Edith! I am a dying man. Edith said her other brother was alive--Frank. +Where is Frank? Will he not come to stand by the bedside of his dying +friend? He did so once." + +"He will come," said Brandon, in a voice choked with emotion, as he +pressed the hand of the dying man. "He will come, and at once." + +"And you will be all here, then--sweet friends! It is well." + +He paused. + +"Bice!" said he at last. + +Beatrice, who was sitting by his head, bent down toward him. + +"Bice," said Langhetti. "My pocket-book is in my coat, and if you open +the inside pocket you will find something wrapped in paper. Bring it to +me." + +Beatrice found the pocket-book and opened it as directed. In the inside +pocket there was a thin, small parcel. She opened it and drew forth a +very small baby's stocking. + +"Look at the mark," said Langhetti. + +Beatrice did so, and saw two letters marked on it--B. D. + +"This was given me by your nurse at Hong Kong. She said your things were +all marked with those letters when you were first brought to her. She +did not know what it meant. 'B' meant Beatrice; but what did 'D' mean?" + +All around that bedside exchanged glances of wonder. Mrs. Compton was +most agitated. + +"Take me away," she murmured to Philips. + +But Philips would not. + +"Cheer up, old woman!" said he. "There's nothing to fear now. That devil +won't hurt you." + +"Now, in my deep interest in you, and in my affection, I tried to find +out what this meant. The nurse and I often talked about it. She told +me that your father never cared particularly about you, and that it was +strange for your clothing to be marked 'D' if your name was Potts. It +was a thing which greatly troubled her. I made many inquiries. I found +out about the Manilla murder case. From that moment I suspected that 'D' +meant Despard. + +"Oh, Heavens!" sighed Beatrice, in an agony of suspense. Brandon and +Despard stood motionless, waiting for something further. + +"This is what I tried to solve. I made inquiries every where. At last I +gave it up. So when circumstances threw Beatrice again in my way I tried +again. I have always been baffled There is only, one who can tell--only +one. She is here, in this room; and, in the name of God, I call upon her +to speak out and tell the truth." + +"Who?" cried Despard, while he and Brandon both looked earnestly at Mrs. +Compton. + +"Mrs. Compton!" said Langhetti; and his voice seemed to die away from +exhaustion. + +Mrs. Compton was seized with a panic more overpowering than usual. She +gasped for breath. "Oh, Lord!" she cried. "Oh, Lord! Spare me! spare me! +He'll kill me!" + +Brandon walked up to her and took her hand. "Mrs. Compton," said he, in +a calm, resolute voice, "your timidity has been your curse. There is no +need for fear now. I will protect you. The man whom you have feared so +many years is now ruined, helpless, and miserable. I could destroy him +at this moment if I chose. You are foolish if you fear him. Your son is +with you. His arm supports you, and I stand here ready to protect both +you and your son. Speak out, and tell what you know. Your husband is +still living. He longs for your return. You and your son are free from +your enemies. Trust in me, and you shall both go back to him and live in +peace." + +Tears fell from Mrs. Compton's eyes. She seized Brandon's hand and +pressed it to her thin lips. + +"You will protect me?" said she. + +"Yes." + +"You will save me from him?" she persisted, in a voice of agony. + +"Yes, and from all others like him. Do not fear. Speak out." + +Mrs. Compton clung to the arm of her son. She drew a long breath. She +looked up into his face as though to gain courage, and then began. + +It was a long story. She had been attendant and nurse to the wife of +Colonel Despard, who had died in giving birth to a child. Potts had +brought news of her death, but had said nothing whatever about the +child. Colonel Despard knew nothing of it. Being at a distance at the +time, on duty, he had heard but the one fact of his wife's death, and +all other things were forgotten. He had not even made inquiries as to +whether the child which he had expected was alive or dead, but had at +once given way to the grief of the bereavement, and had hurried off. + +In his designs on Colonel Despard, Potts feared that the knowledge of +the existence of a child might keep him in India, and distract his mind +from its sorrow. Therefore he was the more anxious not only to keep this +secret, but also to prevent it from ever being known to Colonel Despard. +With this idea he hurried the preparation of the _Vishnu_ to such an +extent that it was ready for sea almost immediately, and left with +Colonel Despard on that ill-fated voyage. + +Mrs. Compton had been left in India with the child. Her son joined her, +in company with John, who, though only a boy, had the vices of a grown +man. Months passed before Potts came back. He then took her along with +the child to China, and left the latter with a respectable woman at +Hong Kong, who was the widow of a British naval officer. The child was +Beatrice Despard. + +Potts always feared that Mrs. Compton might divulge his secret, and +therefore always kept her with him. Timid by nature to an unusual +degree, the wretched woman was in constant fear for her life, and as +years passed on this fear was not lessened. The sufferings which she +felt from this terror were atoned for, however, by the constant presence +of her son, who remained in connection with Potts, influenced chiefly by +the ascendency which this villain had over a man of his weak and +timid nature. Potts had brought them to England, and they had lived in +different places, until at last Brandon Hall had fallen into his hands. +Of the former occupants of Brandon Hall, Mrs. Compton knew almost +nothing. Very little had ever been said about them to her. She knew +scarcely any thing about them, except that their names were Brandon, and +that they had suffered misfortunes. + +Finally, this Beatrice was Beatrice Despard, the daughter of Colonel +Despard and the sister of the clergyman then present. She herself, +instead of being the daughter of Potts, had been one of his victims, and +had suffered not the least at his hands. + +This astounding revelation was checked by frequent interruptions. The +actual story of her true parentage overwhelmed Beatrice. This was the +awful thought which had occurred to herself frequently before. This was +what had moved her so deeply in reading the manuscript of her father +on that African Isle. This also was the thing which had always made her +hate with such intensity the miscreant who pretended to be her father. + +Now she was overwhelmed. She threw herself into the arms of her brother +and wept upon his breast. Courtenay Despard for a moment rose above +the gloom that oppressed him, and pressed to his heart this sister so +strangely discovered. Brandon stood apart, looking on, shaken to the +soul and unnerved by the deep joy of that unparalleled discovery. Amidst +all the speculations in which he had indulged the very possibility of +this had never suggested itself. He had believed most implicitly all +along that Beatrice was in reality the daughter of his mortal enemy. Now +the discovery of the truth came upon him with overwhelming force. + +She raised herself from her brother's embrace, and turned and looked +upon the man whom she adored--the one who, as she said, had over and +over again saved her life; the one whose life she, too, in her turn +had saved, with whom she had passed so many adventurous and momentous +days--days of alternating peace and storm, of varying hope and despair. +To him she owed every thing; to him she owed even the rapture of this +moment. + +As their eyes met they revealed all their inmost thoughts. There was now +no barrier between them. Vanished was the insuperable obstacle, vanished +the impassable gulf. They stood side by side. The enemy of this man--his +foe, his victim--was also hers. Whatever he might suffer, whatever +anguish might have been on the face of that old man who had looked +at her from the balcony, she had clearly no part nor lot now in that +suffering or that anguish. He was the murderer of her father. She was +not the daughter of this man. She was of no vulgar or sordid race. Her +blood was no longer polluted or accursed. She was of pure and noble +lineage. She was a Despard. + +"Beatrice," said Brandon, with a deep, fervid emotion in his voice; +"Beatrice, I am yours, and you are mine. Beatrice, it was a lie that +kept us apart. My life is yours, and yours is mine." + +He thought of nothing but her. He spoke with burning impetuosity. His +words sank into her soul. His eyes devoured hers in the passion of their +glance. + +"Beatrice--my Beatrice!" he said, "Beatrice Despard--" + +He spoke low, bending his head to hers. Her head sank toward his breast. + +"Beatrice, do you now reproach me?" he murmured. + +She held out her hand, while tears stood in her eyes. Brandon seized +it and covered it with kisses. Despard saw this. In the midst of the +anguish of his face a smile shone forth, like sunshine out of a clouded +sky. He looked at these two for a moment. + +Langhetti's eyes were closed. Mrs. Compton and her son were talking +apart. Despard looked upon the lovers. + +"Let them love," he murmured to himself; "let them love and be happy. +Heaven has its favorites. I do not envy them; I bless them, though I +love without hope. Heaven has its favorites, but I am an outcast from +that favor." + +A shudder passed through him. He drew himself up. + +"Since love is denied me," he thought, "I can at least have vengeance." + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + + +THE MALAY'S VENGEANCE. + +Some hours afterward Despard called Brandon outside the cottage, and +walked along the bank which overhung the beach. Arriving at a point +several hundred yards distant from the cottage he stopped. Brandon +noticed a deeper gloom upon his face and a sterner purpose on his +resolute mouth. + +"I have called you aside," said Despard, "to say that I am going on a +journey. I may be back immediately. If I do not return, will you say to +any one who may ask"--and here he paused for a moment--"say to any one +who may ask, that I have gone away on important business, and that the +time of my coming is uncertain." + +"I suppose you can be heard of at Holby, in case of need." + +"I am never going back again to Holby." + +Brandon looked surprised. + +"To one like you," said Despard, "I do not object to tell my purpose. +You know what it is to seek for vengeance. The only feeling that I have +is that. Love, tenderness, affection, all are idle words with me. + +"There are three who pre-eminently were concerned in my father's death," +continued Despard. "One was Cigole. The Carbonari have him. Langhetti +tells me that he must die, unless he himself interposes to save him. And +I think Langhetti will never so interpose. Langhetti is dying--another +stimulus to vengeance. + +"The one who has been the cause of this is Clark, another one of my +father's murderers. He is in the hands of the law. His punishment is +certain. + +"There yet remains the third, and the worst. Your vengeance is satisfied +on him. Mine is not. Not even the sight of that miscreant in the +attitude of a bereaved father could for one moment move me to pity. I +took note of the agony of his face. I watched his grief with joy. I am +going to complete that joy. He must die, and no mortal can save him from +my hands." + +The deep, stern tones of Despard were like the knell of doom, and +there was in them such determinate vindictiveness that Brandon saw all +remonstrance to be useless. + +He marked the pale sad face of this man. He saw in it the traces of +sorrow of longer standing than any which he might have felt about the +manuscript that he had read. It was the face of a man who had suffered +so much that life had become a burden. + +"You are a clergyman," said Brandon at length, with a faint hope that an +appeal to his profession might have some effect. + +Despard smiled cynically. + +"I am a man," said he. + +"Can not the discovery of a sister," asked Brandon, "atone in some +degree for your grief about your father?" + +Despard shook his head wearily. + +"No," said he, "I must do something, and only one purpose is before me +now. I see your motive. You wish to stop short of taking that devil's +life. It is useless to remonstrate. My mind is made up. Perhaps I may +come back unsuccessful. If so--I must be resigned, I suppose. At any +rate you know my purpose, and can let those who ask after me know, in a +general way, what I have said." + +With a slight bow Despard walked away, leaving Brandon standing there +filled with thoughts which were half mournful, half remorseful. + +On leaving Brandon Despard went at once to the inn. The crowd without +had dwindled away to half a dozen people, who were still talking about +the one event of the day. Making his way through these he entered the +inn. + +The landlord stood there with a puzzled face, discussing with several +friends the case of the day. More particularly he was troubled by +the sudden departure of the old man, who about an hour previously had +started off in a great hurry, leaving no directions whatever as to what +was to be done with the body up stairs. It was this which now perplexed +the landlord. + +Despard listened attentively to the conversation. The landlord mentioned +that Potts had taken the road to Brandon. The servant who had been with +the young man had not been seen. If the old man should not return what +was to be done? + +This was enough for Despard, who had his horse saddled without delay +and started also on the Brandon road. He rode on swiftly for some time, +hoping to overtake the man whom he pursued. He rode, however, several +miles without coming in sight of him or of any one like him. At last +he reached that hollow which had been the scene of his encounter with +Clark. As he descended into it he saw a group of men by the road-side +surrounding some object. In the middle of the road was a farmer's wagon, +and a horse was standing in the distance. + +[Illustration: "IT WAS POTTS."] + +Despard rode up and saw the prostrate figure of a man. He dismounted. +The farmers stood aside and disclosed the face. + +It was Potts. + +Despard stooped down. It was already dusk but even in that dim light +he saw the coils of a thin cord wound tightly about the neck of this +victim, from one end of which a leaden bullet hung down. + +By that light also he saw the hilt of a weapon which had been plunged +into his heart, from which the blood had flowed in torrents. + +It was a Malay creese. Upon the handle was carven a name: + +JOHN POTTS. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + + +[Greek: Deute teleutaion aspasmon domen.] + +The excitement which had prevailed through the village of Denton was +intensified by the arrival there of the body of the old man. For his +mysterious death no one could account except one person. + +That one was Brandon, whom Despard surprised by his speedy return, and +to whom he narrated the circumstances of the discovery. Brandon knew who +it was that could wield that cord, what arm it was that had held that +weapon, and what heart it was that was animated by sufficient vengeance +to strike these blows. + +Despard, finding his purpose thus unexpectedly taken away, remained in +the village and waited. There was one whom he wished to see again. On +the following day Frank Brandon arrived from London. He met Langhetti +with deep emotion, and learned from his brother the astonishing story of +Edith. + +On the following day that long-lost sister herself appeared in company +with Mrs. Thornton. Her form, always fragile, now appeared frailer than +ever, her face had a deeper pallor, her eyes an intenser lustre, her +expression was more unearthly. The joy which the brothers felt at +finding their sister was subdued by an involuntary awe which was +inspired by her presence. She seemed to them as she had seemed to others +like one who had arisen from the dead. + +At the sight of her Langhetti's face grew radiant--all pain seemed to +leave him. She bent over him, and their wan lips met in the only kiss +which they had ever exchanged, with all that deep love which they had +felt for one another. She sat by his bedside. She seemed to appropriate +him to herself. The others acknowledged this quiet claim and gave way to +it. + +As she kissed Langhetti's lips he murmured faintly: + +"I knew you would come." + +"Yes," said Edith. "We will go together. + +"Yes, sweetest and dearest," said Langhetti. "And therefore we meet now +never to part again." + +She looked at him fondly. + +"The time of our deliverance is near, oh my friend." + +"Near," repeated Langhetti, with a smile of ecstasy--"near. Yes, you +have already by your presence brought me nearer to my immortality." + +Mrs. Thornton was pale and wan; and the shock which she felt at the +sight of her brother at first overcame her. + +Despard said nothing to her through the day, but as evening came on he +went up to her and in a low voice said, "Let us take a walk." + +Mrs. Thornton looked at him earnestly, and then put on her bonnet. It +was quite dark as they left the house. They walked along the road. The +sea was on their left. + +"This is the last that we shall see of one another, Little Playmate," +said Despard, after a long silence. "I have left Holby forever." + +"Left Holby! Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Thornton, anxiously. + +"To join the army." + +"The army!" + +"Little Playmate," said Despard, "even my discovery of my father's death +has not changed me. Even my thirst for vengeance could not take the +place of my love. Listen--I flung myself with all the ardor that I could +command into the pursuit of my father's murderers. I forced myself to an +unnatural pitch of pitilessness and vindictiveness. I set out to pursue +one of the worst of these men with the full determination to kill him. +God saved me from blood-guiltiness. I found the man dead in the road. +After this all my passion for vengeance died out, and I was brought face +to face with the old love and the old despair. But each of us would die +rather than do wrong, or go on in a wrong course. The only thing left +for us is to separate forever." + +"Yes, forever," murmured Mrs. Thornton. + +"Ah, Little Playmate," he continued, taking her hand, "you are the one +who was not only my sweet companion but the bright ideal of my youth. +You always stood transfigured in my eyes. You, Teresa, were in my mind +something perfect--a bright, brilliant being unlike any other. Whether +you were really what I believed you mattered not so far as the effect +upon me was concerned. You were at once a real and an ideal being. I +believed in you, and believe in you yet. + +"I was not a lover; I was a devotee. My feelings toward you are such as +Dante describes his feelings toward his Beatrice. My love is tender and +reverential. I exalt you to a plane above my own. What I say may sound +extravagant to you, but it is actual fact with me. Why it should be so I +can not tell. I can only say--I am so made. + +"We part, and I leave you; but I shall be like Dante, I suppose, and as +the years pass, instead of weakening my love they will only refine it +and purify it. You will be to me a guardian angel, a patron saint--your +name shall always mingle with my prayers. Is it impious to name your +name in prayer? I turn away from you because I would rather suffer than +do wrong. May I not pray for my darling?" + +"I don't know what to do," said Mrs. Thornton, wearily. "Your power over +me is fearful. Lama, I would do any thing for your sake. You talk +about your memories; it is not for me to speak about mine. Whether you +idealize me or not, after all, you must know what I really am." + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS WEEPING. DESPARD FOLDED HER IN HIS ARMS."] + +"Would you be glad never to see me again?" + +The hand which Despard held trembled. + +"If you would be happier," said she. + +"Would you be glad if I could conquer this love of mine, and meet you +again as coolly as a common friend?" + +"I want you to be happy, Lama," she replied. "I would suffer myself to +make you happy." + +She was weeping. Despard folded her in his arms. + +"This once," said he, "the only time, Little Playmate, in this life." + +She wept upon his breast. + +"[Greek: Teleutaion aspasmon domen]" said Despard, murmuring in a low +voice the opening of the song of the dead, so well known, so often song, +so fondly remembered--the song which bids fare-well to the dead when the +friends bestow the "last kiss." + +He bent down his head. Her head fell. His lips touched her forehead. + +She felt the beating of his heart; she felt his frame tremble from head +to foot; she heard his deep-drawn breathing, every breath a sigh. + +"It is our last farewell," said he, in a voice of agony. + +Then he tore himself away, and, a few minutes later, was riding from the +village. + + + + +CHAPTER LX. + + +CONCLUSION. + +A month passed. Despard gave no sign. A short note which he wrote to +Brandon announced his arrival at London, and informed him that important +affairs required his departure abroad. + +The cottage was but a small place, and Brandon determined to have +Langhetti conveyed to the Hall. An ambulance was obtained from Exeter, +and on this Langhetti and Edith were taken away. + +On arriving at Brandon Hall Beatrice found her diary in its place of +concealment, the memory of old sorrows which could never be forgotten. +But those old sorrows were passing away now, in the presence of her new +joy. + +And yet that joy was darkened by the cloud of a new sorrow. Langhetti +was dying. His frail form became more and more attenuated every day, his +eyes more lustrous, his face more spiritual. Down every step of that way +which led to the grave Edith went with him, seeming in her own face and +form to promise a speedier advent in that spirit-world where she longed +to arrive. Beside these Beatrice watched, and Mrs. Thornton added her +tender care. + +Day by day Langhetti grew worse. At last one day he called for his +violin. He had caused it to be sent for on a previous occasion, but +had never used it. His love for music was satisfied by the songs of +Beatrice. Now he wished to exert his own skill with the last remnants of +his strength. + +Langhetti was propped up by pillows, so that he might hold the +instrument. Near him Edith reclined on a sofa. Her large, lustrous eyes +were fixed on him. Her breathing, which came and went rapidly, showed +her utter weakness and prostration. + +Langhetti drew his bow across the strings. + +It was a strange, sweet sound, weak, but sweet beyond all words--a long, +faint, lingering tone, which rose and died and rose again, bearing away +the souls of those who heard it into a realm of enchantment and delight. + +That tone gave strength to Langhetti. It was as though some unseen power +had been invoked and had come to his aid. The tones came forth more +strongly, on firmer pinions, flying from the strings and towering +through the air. + +The strength of these tones seemed to emanate from some unseen power; +so also did their meaning. It was a meaning beyond what might be +intelligible to those who listened--a meaning beyond mortal thought. + +Yet Langhetti understood it, and so did Edith. Her eyes grew brighter, a +flush started to her wan cheeks, her breathing grew more rapid. + +The music went on. More subtle, more penetrating, more thrilling in its +mysterious meaning, it rose and swelled through the air, like the song +of some unseen ones, who were waiting for newcomers to the Invisible +land. + +Suddenly Beatrice gave a piercing cry. She rushed to Edith's sofa. Edith +lay back, her marble face motionless, her white lips apart, her eyes +looking upward. But the lips breathed no more, and in the eyes there no +longer beamed the light of life. + +At the cry of Beatrice the violin fell from Langhetti's hand, and he +sank back. His face was turned toward Edith. He saw her and knew it all. + +[Illustration: LANGHETTI DREW HIS BOW ACROSS THE STRINGS.] + +He said not a word, but lay with his face turned toward her. They wished +to carry her away, but he gently reproved them. + +"Wait!" he murmured. "In a short time you will carry away another also. +Wait." + +They waited. + +An hour before midnight all was over. They had passed--those pure +spirits, from a world which was uncongenial to a fairer world and a +purer clime. + +They were buried side by side in the Brandon vaults. Frank then +returned to London. Mrs. Thornton went back to Holby. The new rector was +surprised at the request of the lady of Thornton Grange to be allowed +to become organist in Trinity Church. She offered to pension off the old +man who now presided there. Her request was gladly acceded to. Her zeal +was remarkable. Every day she visited the church to practice at the +organ. This became the purpose of her life. Yet of all the pieces two +were performed most frequently in her daily practice, the one being +the Agnus Dei; the other, the [Greek: teleutaion aspasmon] of St. John +Damascene. Peace! Peace! Peace! + +Was that cry of hers unavailing? Of Despard nothing was known for some +time. Mr. Thornton once mentioned to his wife that the Rev. Courtenay +Despard had joined the Eleventh Regiment, and had gone to South Africa. +He mentioned this because he had seen a paragraph stating that a Captain +Despard had been killed in the Kaffir war, and wondered whether it could +by any possibility be their old friend or not. + +At Brandon Hall, the one who had been so long a prisoner and a slave +soon became mistress. + +The gloom which had rested over the house was dispelled, and Brandon +and his wife were soon able to look back, even to the darkest period of +their lives, without fear of marring their perfect happiness. + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cord and Creese, by James de Mille + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORD AND CREESE *** + +***** This file should be named 8572.txt or 8572.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/7/8572/ + +Produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |