diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:32:06 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:32:06 -0700 |
| commit | 94335f353ec643b4d7e2a1c377bc90d9df7dddb2 (patch) | |
| tree | 0edbb9b97a138e15d76e243af9d21dfb01aa624a /old | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8711-h.htm.2021-01-26 | 19716 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/lvlnk10.txt | 16304 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/lvlnk10.zip | bin | 0 -> 287631 bytes |
3 files changed, 36020 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/8711-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/8711-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9baa5e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8711-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,19716 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Living Link., by James de Mille + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Living Link, 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: The Living Link + +Author: James De Mille + + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8711] +This file was first posted on August 3, 2003 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVING LINK *** + + + + +Text File produced by Rich Magahiz, David Moynihan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE LIVING LINK. + </h1> + <h3> + A Novel + </h3> + <h2> + By James De Mille + </h2> + <h5> + Author of “The Dodge Club,” “Cord and Creese,” “The Cryptogram,” “The + American Baron,” &c, &c. + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — A TERRIBLE SECRET. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — THE CONTENTS OF THE + MANUSCRIPT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — THE MOMENTOUS RESOLVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE WELCOME HOME. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — THE STRANGE INMATES OF DALTON + HALL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — WALLED IN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — A PARLEY WITH THE JAILERS. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — MISS PLYMPTON BAFFLED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — SIR LIONEL DUDLEIGH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — LEON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — LUCY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — A SOLEMN APPEAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — A WONDERFUL ACTOR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — TWO CALLERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — A PANIC AMONG THE JAILERS. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — ANOTHER VISIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — A STROKE FOR LIBERTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — A STRANGE CONFESSION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — A NEW-COMER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — A WARNING. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — LITTLE DUDLEIGH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — THE MAN OF LAW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — NEW OBLIGATIONS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — THE SOURCES OF THE NILE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — A THREATENING LETTER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — THE PROPOSAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — A MARRIAGE IN THE DARK. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — THE WIFE OF LEON DUDLEIGH. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — JAILER AND CAPTIVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — THE IRREPRESSIBLE STRUGGLE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. — A FIGHT IN THE ENEMY'S + CAMP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. — THE HUSBAND'S LAST + APPEAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. — THE FUGITIVE AND THE + PURSUER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. — THE EMPTY ROOMS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE VICAR OF DALTON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE HOUSE OF REFUGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE OLD WELL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CORONER'S INQUEST. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. — A STRANGE CONFESSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. — A REVELATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. — THE TRIAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. — SIR LIONEL AND HIS + “KEEPER” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. — LADY DUDLEIGH'S DECISION. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. — LADY DUDLEIGH IS SHOWN TO + HER ROOM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. — THE BEDSIDE OF DALTON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. — A BETTER UNDERSTANDING. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. — CAPTAIN CRUIKSHANK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. — EDITH'S NEW FRIEND. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. — A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. — IMPORTANT NEWS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. — THE STORY OF FREDERICK + DALTON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. — THE BROTHERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV. — THE SONS AND THEIR FATHER. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV. — CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — A TERRIBLE SECRET. + </h2> + <p> + On a pleasant evening in the month of May, 1840, a group of young ladies + might have been seen on the portico of Plympton Terrace, a fashionable + boarding-school near Derwentwater. They all moved about with those + effusive demonstrations so characteristic of young girls; but on this + occasion there was a general hush among them, which evidently arose from + some unusual cause. As they walked up and down arm in arm, or with arms + entwined, or with clasped hands, as young girls will, they talked in low + earnest tones over some one engrossing subject, or occasionally gathered + in little knots to debate some point, in which, while each offered a + differing opinion, all were oppressed by one common sadness. + </p> + <p> + While they were thus engaged there arose in the distance the sound of a + rapidly galloping horse. At once all the murmur of conversation died out, + and the company stood in silence awaiting the new-comer. They did not have + to wait long. Out from a place where the avenue wound amidst groves and + thickets a young girl mounted on a spirited bay came at full speed toward + the portico. Arriving there, she stopped abruptly; then leaping lightly + down, she flung the reins over the horse's neck, who forthwith galloped + away to his stall. + </p> + <p> + The rider who thus dismounted was young girl of about eighteen, and of + very striking appearance. Her complexion was dark, her hair black, with + its rich voluminous folds gathered in great glossy plaits behind. Her eyes + were of a deep hazel color, radiant, and full of energetic life. In those + eyes there was a certain earnestness of expression, however, deepening + down into something that seemed like melancholy, which showed that even in + her young life she had experienced sorrow. Her figure was slender and + graceful, being well displayed by her close-fitting riding-habit, while a + plumed hat completed her equipment, and served to heighten the effect of + her beauty. + </p> + <p> + At her approach a sudden silence had fallen over the company, and they all + stood motionless, looking at her as she dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what makes you all look at me so strangely?” she asked, in a tone of + surprise, throwing a hasty glance over them. “Has any thing happened?” + </p> + <p> + To this question no answer was given, but each seemed waiting for the + other to speak. At length a little thing of about twelve came up, and + encircling the new-comer's waist with her arm, looked up with a sorrowful + expression, and whispered, + </p> + <p> + “Edith dearest, Miss Plympton wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + The silence and ominous looks of the others, and the whispered words of + the little girl, together with her mournful face, increased the surprise + and anxiety of Edith. She looked with a strange air of apprehension over + the company. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked, hurriedly. “Something has happened. Do any of you + know? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke breathlessly, and her eyes once more wandered with anxious + inquiry over all of them. But no one spoke, for, whatever it was, they + felt the news to be serious—something, in fact, which could not well + be communicated by themselves. Once more Edith repeated her question, and + finding that no answer was forth-coming, her impatience allowed her to + wait no longer; and so, gathering up her long skirts in one hand and + holding her whip in the other, she hurried into the house to see Miss + Plympton. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton's room was on the second floor, and that lady herself was + seated by the window as Edith entered. In the young girl's face there was + now a deeper anxiety, and seating herself near the centre-table, she + looked inquiringly at Miss Plympton. + </p> + <p> + The latter regarded her for some moments in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Did you wish to see me, auntie dear?” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, slowly; “but, my poor darling Edie, I hardly know how to + say to you what I have to say. I—I—do you think you can bear + to hear it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + At this Edith looked more disturbed than ever; and placing her elbow on + the centre-table, she leaned her cheek upon her hand, and fixed her + melancholy eyes upon Miss Plympton. Her heart throbbed painfully, and the + hand against which her head leaned trembled visibly. But these signs of + agitation did not serve to lessen the emotion of the other; on the + contrary, she seemed more distressed, and quite at a loss how to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Edith,” said she at last, “my child, you know how tenderly I love you. I + have always tried to be a mother to you, and to save you from all sorrow; + but now my love and care are all useless, for the sorrow has come, and I + do not know any way by which I can break bad news to—to—a—a + bereaved heart.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke in a tremulous voice and with frequent pauses. + </p> + <p> + “Bereaved!” exclaimed Edith, with white lips. “Oh, auntie! Bereaved! Is it + that? Oh, tell me all. Don't keep me in suspense. Let me know the worst.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton looked still more troubled. “I—I—don't know what + to say,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “You mean <i>death</i>!” cried Edith, in an excited voice; “and oh! I + needn't ask who. There's only one—only one. I had only one—only + one—and now—he is—gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” repeated Miss Plympton, mechanically, and she said no more; for in + the presence of Edith's grief, and of other facts which had yet to be + disclosed—facts which would reveal to this innocent girl something + worse than even bereavement—words were useless, and she could find + nothing to say. Her hand wandered through the folds of her dress, and at + length she drew forth a black-edged letter, at which she gazed in an + abstracted way. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it,” cried Edith, hurriedly and eagerly; and before Miss + Plympton could prevent her, or even imagine what she was about, she darted + forward and snatched the letter from her hand. Then she tore it open and + read it breathlessly. The letter was very short, and was written in a + stiff, constrained hand. It was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “DALTON HALL, <i>May</i> 6, 1840. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,—It is my painful duty to communicate to you the death of + Frederick Dalton, Esq., of Dalton Hall, who died at Hobart Town, Van + Diemen's Land, on the 2d of December, 1839. I beg that you will impart + this intelligence to Miss Dalton, for as she is now of age, she may wish + to return to Dalton Hall. + </p> + <p> + “I remain, madame, + </p> + <p> + “Your most obedient servant, + </p> + <h4> + “JOHN WIGGINS. + </h4> + <p> + “MISS PLYMPTON, <i>Plympton Terrace</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Of this letter Edith took in the meaning of the first three lines only. + Then it dropped from her trembling hands, and sinking into a chair, she + burst into a torrent of tears. Miss Plympton regarded her with a face full + of anxiety, and for some moments Edith wept without restraint; but at + length, when the first outburst of grief was past, she picked up the + letter once more and read it over and over. + </p> + <p> + Deep as Edith's grief evidently was, this bereavement was not, after all, + so sore a blow as it might have been under other circumstances. For this + father whom she had lost was virtually a stranger. Losing her mother at + the age of eight, she had lived ever since with Miss Plympton, and during + this time her father had never seen her, nor even written to her. Once or + twice she had written to him a pretty childish letter, but he had never + deigned any reply. If in that unknown nature there had been any thing of a + father's love, no possible hint had ever been given of it. Of her strange + isolation she was never forgetful, and she felt it most keenly during the + summer holidays, when all her companions had gone to their homes. At such + times she brooded much over her loneliness, and out of this feeling there + arose a hope, which she never ceased to cherish, that the time would come + when she might join her father, and live with him wherever he might be, + and set herself to the task of winning his affections. + </p> + <p> + She had always understood that her father had been living in the East + since her mother's death. The only communication which she had with him + was indirect, and consisted of business letters which his English agent + wrote to Miss Plympton. These were never any thing more than short, formal + notes. Such neglect was keenly felt, and Edith, unwilling to blame her + father altogether, tried to make some one else responsible for it. As she + knew of no other human being who had any connection with her father except + this agent, she brought herself gradually to look upon him as the cause of + her father's coldness, and so at length came to regard him with a hatred + that was unreasoning and intense. She considered him her father's evil + genius, and believed him to be somehow at the bottom of the troubles of + her life. Thus every year this man, John Wiggins, grew more hateful, and + she accustomed herself to think of him as an evil fiend, a Mephistopheles, + by whose crafty wiles her father's heart had been estranged from her. + Such, then, was the nature of Edith's bereavement; and as she mourned over + it she did not mourn so much over the reality as over her vanished hope. + He was gone, and with him was gone the expectation of meeting him and + winning his affection. She would never see him—never be able to tell + how she loved him, and hear him say with a father's voice that he loved + his child! + </p> + <p> + These thoughts and feelings overwhelmed Edith even as she held the letter + in her hand for a new perusal, and she read it over and over without + attaching any meaning to the words. At length her attention was arrested + by one statement in that short letter which had hitherto escaped her + notice. This was the name of the place where her father's death had + occurred—Van Diemen's Land. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand this,” said she. “What is the meaning of this—Van + Diemen's Land? I did not know that poor papa had ever left India.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton made no reply to this for some time, but looked more + troubled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean,” asked Edith again—“this Hobart Town, Van + Diemen's Land? What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear,” said Miss Plympton, in strangely gentle and mournful voice, + “you have never known much about your poor father, and you have never + known exactly where he has been living. He did not live in India, dear; he + never lived in India. He lived in—in—Van Diemen's Land.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton's tone and look affected Edith very unpleasantly. The + mystery about her father seemed to grow darker, and to assume something of + an ill-omened character. The name also—Van Diemen's Land—served + to heighten her dark apprehensions; and this discovery that she had known + even less than she supposed about her father made it seem as though the + knowledge that had thus been hidden could not but be painful. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she asked again; and her voice died down to a whisper + through the vague fears that had been awakened. “I thought that poor papa + lived in India—that he held some office under government.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you believed so,” said Miss Plympton, regarding Edith with a + look that was full of pity and mournful sympathy. “That was what I gave + out. None of the girls have ever suspected the truth. No one knows whose + daughter you really are. They do not suspect that your father was Dalton + of Dalton Hall. They think that he was an Indian resident in the Company's + service. Yes, I have kept the secret well, dear—the secret that I + promised your dear mother on her death-bed to keep from all the world, and + from you, darling, till the time should come for you to know. And often + and often, dear, have I thought of this moment, and tried to prepare for + it; but now, since it has come, I am worse than unprepared. But + preparations are of no use, for oh, my darling, my own Edith, I must + speak, if I speak at all, from my heart.” + </p> + <p> + These words were spoken by Miss Plympton in a broken, disconnected, and + almost incoherent manner. She stopped abruptly, and seemed overcome by + strong agitation. Edith, on her part, looked at her in equal agitation, + wondering at her display of emotion, and terrified at the dark + significance of her words. For from those words she learned this much + already—that her father had been living in Van Diemen's Land, a + penal colony; that around him had been a dark secret which had been kept + from her most carefully; that her parentage had been concealed most + scrupulously from the knowledge of her school-mates; and that this secret + which had been so guarded was even now overwhelming Miss Plympton so that + she shrunk from communicating it. All this served to fill the mind of + Edith with terrible presentiments, and the mystery which had hitherto + surrounded her father seemed now about to result in a revelation more + terrible than the mystery itself. + </p> + <p> + After some time Miss Plympton rose, and drawing her chair nearer, sat down + in front of Edith, and took both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My poor darling Edith,” said she, in pitying tones, “I am anxious for + you. You are not strong enough for this. Your hands are damp and cold. You + are trembling. I would not have brought up this subject now, but I have + been thinking that the time has come for telling you all. But I'm afraid + it will be too much for you. You have already enough to bear without + having this in addition. You are too weak.” + </p> + <p> + Edith shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Can you bear it?” asked Miss Plympton, anxiously, “this that I wish to + tell you? Perhaps I had better defer it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith, in a forced voice. “No—now—now—tell me + now. I can bear whatever it is better than any horrible suspense.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton sighed, and leaning forward, she kissed the pale forehead of + the young girl. Then, after a little further delay, during which she + seemed to be collecting her thoughts, she began: + </p> + <p> + “I was governess once, Edith dearest, in your dear mamma's family. She was + quite a little thing then. All the rest were harsh, and treated me like a + slave; but she was like an angel, and made me feel the only real happiness + I knew in all those dreary days. I loved her dearly for her gentle and + noble nature. I loved her always, and I still love her memory; and I love + you as I loved her, and for her sake. And when she gave you to me, on her + death-bed, I promised her that I would be a mother to you, dear. You have + never known how much I love you—for I am not demonstrative—but + I do love you, my own Edith, most dearly, and I would spare you this if I + could. But, after all, it is a thing which you must know some time, and + before very long—the sooner the better.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to know it now,” said Edith, as Miss Plympton hesitated, speaking + in a constrained voice, the result of the strong pressure which she was + putting on her feelings—“now,” she repeated. “I can not wait. I must + know all to-day. What was it? Was it—crime?” + </p> + <p> + “The charge that was against him,” said Miss Plympton, “involved crime. + But, my darling, you must remember always that an accusation is not the + same as a fact, even though men believe it; yes, even though the law may + condemn the accused, and the innocent may suffer. Edith Dalton,” she + continued, with solemn earnestness, “I believe that your father was as + innocent as you are. Remember that! Cling to that! Never give up that + belief, no matter what you may hear. There was too much haste and blind + passion and prejudice in that court where he was tried, and appearances + were dark, and there was foul treachery somewhere; and so it was that + Frederick Dalton was done to ruin and his wife done to death. And now, my + darling, you have to make yourself acquainted not with a father's crimes, + but with a father's sufferings. You are old enough now to hear that story, + and you have sufficient independence of character to judge for yourself, + dear. There is no reason why you should be overwhelmed when you hear it—unless, + indeed, you are overcome by pity for the innocent and indignation against + his judges. Even if society considers your father's name a stained and + dishonored one, there is no reason why his daughter should feel shame, for + you may take your stand on his own declaration of innocence, and hold up + your head proudly before the world.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton spoke this with vehement emotion, and her words brought some + consolation to Edith. The horrible thought that had at first come was that + her father had been a convict in some penal settlement, but this solemn + assurance of his innocence mitigated the horror of the thought, and + changed it into pity. She said not a word, however, for her feelings were + still too strong, nor could she find voice for any words. She sat, + therefore, in silence, and waited for Miss Plympton to tell the whole + story. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton surveyed Edith anxiously for a few moments, and then rising, + went over to an escritoire. This she unlocked, and taking from it a + parcel, she returned to her seat. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to tell you the story,” said she. “I can not bear to + recall it. It is all here, and you may read it for yourself. It was all + public ten years ago, and in this package are the reports of the trial. I + have read them over so often that I almost know them by heart; and I know, + too, the haste of that trial, and the looseness of that evidence. I have + marked it in places—for your eyes only, dearest—for I prepared + it for you, to be handed to you in case of my death. My life, however, has + been preserved, and I now give this into your own hands. You must take it + to your own room, and read it all over by yourself. You will learn there + all that the world believes about your father, and will see in his own + words what he says about himself. And for my part, even if the testimony + were far stronger, I would still take the word of Frederick Dalton!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton held out the parcel, and Edith took it, though she was + scarce conscious of the act. An awful foreboding of calamity, the + mysterious shadow of her father's fate, descended over her soul. She was + unconscious of the kiss which Miss Plympton gave her; nor was she + conscious of any thing till she found herself seated at a table in her own + room, with the door locked, and the package lying on the table before her. + She let it lie there for a few moments, for her agitation was excessive, + and she dreaded to open it; but at length she mastered her feelings, and + began to undo the strings. + </p> + <p> + The contents of the parcel consisted of sheets of paper, upon which were + pasted columns of printed matter cut from some newspaper. It was the + report of the trial of Frederick Dalton, upon charges which ten years + before had filled the public mind with horror and curiosity. In these days + the most cursory reader who took up the report came to the work with a + mind full of vivid interest and breathless suspense; but that report now + lay before the eyes of a far different reader—one who was animated + by feelings far more intense, since it was the daughter of the accused + herself. That daughter also was one who hitherto had lived in an + atmosphere of innocence, purity, and love, one who shrank in abhorrence + from all that was base or vile; and this was the one before whose eyes was + now placed the horrible record that had been made up before the world + against her father's name. + </p> + <p> + The printed columns were pasted in such a way that a wide margin was left, + which was covered with notes in Miss Plympton's writing. To give any thing + like a detailed account of this report, with the annotations, is out of + the question, nor will any thing be necessary beyond a general summary of + the facts therein stated. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — THE CONTENTS OF THE MANUSCRIPT. + </h2> + <p> + On the date indicated in the report, then, the city of Liverpool and the + whole country were agitated by the news of a terrible murder. On the + road-side near Everton the dead body of a Mr. Henderson, an eminent + banker, had been found, not far from his own residence. The discovery had + been made at about eleven o'clock in the evening by some passers-by. Upon + examination a wound was found in the back of the head which had been + caused by a bullet. His watch and purse were still in their places, but + his pocket-book was gone. Clasped in one of the hands was a newspaper, on + the blank margin of which were some red letters, rudely traced, and + looking as though they had been written with blood. The letters were + these: + </p> + <h4> + “DALTON SHOT ME BEC—” + </h4> + <p> + It was evident that the writer intended to write the word “because,” and + give the reason why he had been shot, but that his strength had failed in + the middle of the word. + </p> + <p> + A closer search revealed some other things. One was a small stick, the + point of which was reddened with a substance which microscopic examination + afterward showed to be blood. The other was a scarf-pin made of gold, the + head of which consisted of a Maltese cross, of very rich and elegant + design. In the middle was black enamel inclosed by a richly chased gold + border, and at the intersection of the bars was a small diamond of great + splendor. If this cross belonged to the murderer it had doubtless become + loosened, and fallen out while he was stooping over his victim, and the + loss had not been noticed in the excitement of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + At the coroner's inquest various important circumstances were brought to + light. The fact that his watch and purse remained made it plain that it + was not a case of common highway robbery, and the loss of the pocket-book + showed that the deed was prompted by a desire for something more than + ordinary plunder. Proceeding from this, various circumstances arose which, + in addition to the terrible accusation traced in blood, tended to throw + suspicion upon Frederick Dalton. + </p> + <p> + It came out that on the morning of that very day Mr. Henderson had + discovered a check for two thousand pounds that had been forged in his + name. Being a very choleric man, he felt more than the anger which is + natural under such circumstances, and vowed vengeance to the uttermost + upon the forger. That same morning Mr. Frederick Dalton came to see him, + and was shown into his private office. He had just arrived in the city, + and had come on purpose to pay this visit. The interview was a protracted + one, and the clerks outside heard the voice of Mr. Henderson in a very + high key, and in a strain of what sounded like angry menace and + denunciations of vengeance, though they could not make out any words. At + last the office door opened, and Dalton came out. He was very pale, and + much agitated. One of the clerks heard him say, in a low voice, + </p> + <p> + “<i>Only one day—till this time to-morrow</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Mr. Henderson roared out in a loud voice, which all the clerks + heard, + </p> + <p> + “<i>No, Sir! Not one day, not one hour, if I die for it!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Upon this Dalton walked away, looking paler and more agitated than ever. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the day Mr. Henderson told his confidential clerk that + the check had just been used by Dalton, who, however, denied that he was + the forger; that the visit of Dalton professed to be on behalf of the + guilty party, whom he wished to screen. Dalton had refused to give the + culprit's name, and offered to pay the amount of the check, or any + additional sum whatever, if no proceedings were taken. This, however, Mr. + Henderson refused, and in his indignation charged Dalton himself with the + crime. Under these circumstances the interview had terminated. + </p> + <p> + Thus the evidence against Dalton was the forged check, the clerks' reports + concerning the exciting interview with Mr. Henderson, the awful accusation + of the deceased himself, written in his own blood, together with the + Maltese cross, which was believed to belong to Dalton. The arrest of + Dalton had been made at the earliest possible moment; and at the trial + these were the things which were made use of against him by the + prosecution. By energetic efforts discovery was made of a jeweler who + recognized the Maltese cross as his own work, and swore that he had made + it for Frederick Dalton, in accordance with a special design furnished him + by that gentleman. The design had been kept in his order-book ever since, + and was produced by him in court. Thus the testimony of the jeweler and + the order-book served to fix the ownership of the Maltese cross upon + Dalton in such a way that it corroborated and confirmed all the other + testimony. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, the defense of Dalton took up all these points. In the + first place, it was shown that in his case there was no conceivable + temptation that could have led to the commission of such a crime. He was a + man of great wealth, possessed of a fine estate, and free from all + pecuniary embarrassments. He was not what was called a sporting man, and + therefore could not have secretly accumulated debts while appearing rich. + It was shown, also, that his character was stainless; that he was + essentially a domestic man, living quietly at Dalton Hall with his wife + and child, and therefore, from his worldly means as well as from his + personal character and surroundings, it was morally impossible for him to + have forged the check. + </p> + <p> + With reference to the interview with Mr. Henderson, it was maintained that + it arose, as he himself said, from a desire to shield the real culprit, + whom he knew, and for whom he felt a strong and unusual regard. Who this + culprit was the defense did not assert, nor could they imagine, though + they tried every possible way of finding him out. Whoever he was, he + appeared to be the only one who could have had a motive strong enough for + the murder of Mr. Henderson. The unknown assassin had evidently done the + deed so as to obtain possession of the forged check, and prevent its being + used against him. In this he was unsuccessful, since the check had already + been intrusted to the hands of others; but the aim of the assassin was + sufficiently evident. + </p> + <p> + Again, as to the writing in blood, a vigorous effort was made to show that + this was a conspiracy against an innocent man. It was argued that Mr. + Henderson did not write it at all; and efforts were made to prove that the + wound in his head must have caused instantaneous death. He himself, + therefore, could not have written it, but it must have been the work of + some one who was plotting against Dalton, or who was eager to divert + suspicion from himself. + </p> + <p> + The testimony of the Maltese cross was met by counter-testimony to the + effect that Dalton had never worn such an ornament. His servants all swore + that they had never seen it before. Mr. Henderson's clerks also swore that + Mr. Dalton wore no pin at all on that morning of the interview. + </p> + <p> + And, finally, an effort was made to prove an <i>alibi</i>. It was shown + that Dalton's occupation of his time during that evening could be + accounted for with the exception of one hour. Witnesses were produced from + the hotel where he put up who swore that he had been there until eight + o'clock in the evening, when he left, returning at nine. An hour, + therefore, remained to be accounted for. As to this hour—on the one + hand, it seemed hardly sufficient for the deed, but yet it was certainly + possible for him to have done it within that time; and thus it remained + for the defense to account for that hour. For this purpose a note was + produced, which was scribbled in pencil and addressed to John Wiggins, + Esq. + </p> + <p> + It was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Wiggins,—I have been here ever since eight, and am tired of + waiting. Come to my room as soon as you get back. I'll be there. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, F. DALTON.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John Wiggins testified that he had made an appointment to meet Dalton + at the hour mentioned in the note, but had been detained on business until + late. He had found this on his return thrust under the office door. On + going to see him the following morning he had learned of his arrest. + </p> + <p> + This note and the testimony of Wiggins were felt to bear strongly in + Dalton's favor. If the accused had really been waiting at the office, as + the note stated, then clearly he could not have followed on Mr. + Henderson's track to Everton. The force of this weighed more than any + thing else with the court; the summing up of the judge also bore strongly + toward an acquittal; and, consequently, Dalton was declared not guilty. + </p> + <p> + But the acquittal on this first charge did not at all secure the escape of + Dalton from danger. Another charge, which had been interwoven with the + first, still impended over him, and no sooner was he declared free of + murder than he was arrested on the charge of forgery, and remanded to + prison to await his trial on that accusation. + </p> + <p> + Now during the whole course of the trial the public mind had been + intensely excited; all men were eager than vengeance should fall on some + one, and at the outset had made up their minds that Dalton was guilty. The + verdict of acquittal created deep and widespread dissatisfaction, for it + seemed as though justice had been cheated of a victim. When, therefore, + the trial for forgery came on, there weighed against Dalton all the infamy + that had been accumulating against him during the trial for murder. Had + this trial stood alone, the prisoner's counsel might have successfully + pleaded his high character, as well as his wealth, against this charge, + and shown that it was false because it was morally impossible. But this + was no longer of avail, and in the public mind Frederick Dalton was deemed + only a desperate murderer, whose good reputation was merely the result of + life-long hypocrisy, and whose character was but an empty name. + </p> + <p> + And so in this trial it was shown that Dalton had first put forth the + forged check, and afterward learning that it was discovered prematurely, + had hurried to Liverpool so as to get it back from Mr. Henderson. His + asserted wealth was not believed in. Efforts were made to show that he had + been connected with men of desperate fortunes, and had himself been + perhaps betting heavily; and all this arts which ate usually employed by + unscrupulous or excited advocates to crush an accused man were freely put + forth. Experts were brought from London to examine Dalton's handwriting, + and compare it with that of the forged check; and these men yielding to + the common prejudice, gave it as their opinion that he was, or <i>might + have been</i>(!), the author of the forgery. + </p> + <p> + But all this was as nothing when compared with the injury which Dalton + himself did to his own cause by the course which he chose to adopt. + Contenting himself with the simple assertion of his innocence, he refused + to give the name of the guilty man, or to say any thing that might lead to + his discovery. Actuated by a lofty sense of honor, a chivalrous sentiment + of loyalty and friendship, he kept the secret with obstinate fidelity; and + the almost frantic appeals of his counsel, who saw in the discovery of the + real offender the only chance for the escape of the accused, and who used + every possible argument to shake his resolve, availed not in the slightest + degree to shake his firmness. They employed detectives, and instituted + inquiries in all directions in the endeavor to find out who might be this + friend for whom Dalton was willing to risk honor and life; but their + search was completely baffled. Dalton's silence was therefore taken as an + evidence of guilt, and his refusal to confess on a friend was regarded as + a silly attempt to excite public sympathy. When the counsel ventured to + bring this forward to the jury, and tried to portray Dalton as a man who + chose rather to suffer than to say that which might bring a friend to + destruction, it was regarded as a wild, Quixotic, and maudlin piece of + sentimentalism on the part of said counsel, and was treated by the + prosecution with unspeakable scorn and ridicule. Under such circumstances + the result was inevitable: Frederick Dalton was declared guilty, and + sentenced to transportation for life. + </p> + <p> + Among the notes which had been written by Miss Plympton, Edith was very + forcibly struck by some which referred to John Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this J.W.?” was written in one place. “How did F.D. become + acquainted with him?” + </p> + <p> + In another place, where Wiggins gave his testimony about the note, was + written: “Where was J.W. during that hour? Had he gone to Everton + himself?” + </p> + <p> + And again: “J.W. was the friend of F.D., and wished to save him. Might he + not have done more?” + </p> + <p> + Again: “Mark well! J.W. is a Liverpool man. H. was a Liverpool man. Had + F.D. ever heard of even the name of H. before the forgery? What was the + nature of the dealings between F.D. and J.W.?” + </p> + <p> + Again, when Dalton's silence was so sharply commented on and urged as + proof of his guilt, there occurred the following: “If F.D. was silent, why + did not J.W. open his mouth? Must he not have known at least something? + Could he not have set the authorities upon the track of the real criminal, + and thus have saved F.D.?” + </p> + <p> + Again: “The Maltese cross did not belong to Dalton. He had ordered it to + be made. For whom? Was it not for this same friend for whom he was now + suffering? Was not this friend the murderer? Has he not thrown suspicion + upon F.D. by that writing in blood? The same one who committed the murder + wrote the false charge, and left the Maltese cross.” + </p> + <p> + Other notes of similar character occurred in various places, but those + which impressed Edith most were the following: + </p> + <p> + “F.D. was evidently betrayed by his false friend. Was not that false + friend the real murderer? Did he not contrive to throw on F.D. the + suspicion of the murder? Might not the forgery itself from the very + beginning have been part of a plan to ruin F.D.? But why ruin him? + Evidently to gain some benefit. Now who has been more benefited by the + ruin of F.D.? Whoever he is, must he not he be the murderer and the false + friend?” + </p> + <p> + Again, a little further on: “Has any one gained any thing from the ruin of + F.D. but J.W.? Has not J.W. ever since had control of Dalton property? Is + he not rich now? Has not the ruin of F.D. made the fortune of J.W.?” + </p> + <p> + Such was the substance of the papers which Edith perused. They were + voluminous, and she continued at her task all through that night, her + heart all the time filled with a thousand contending emotions. + </p> + <p> + Before her mind all the time there was the image of her father in the + judgment-hall. There he stood, the innocent man, betrayed by his friend, + and yet standing there in his simple faith and truth to save that friend, + obstinate in his self-sacrificing fidelity, true to faith when the other + had proved himself worthless, suffering what can only be suffered by a + generous nature as the hours and the days passed and the end approached, + and still the traitor allowed him to suffer. And there was the hate and + scorn of man, the clamor for vengeance from society, the condemnation of + the jury who had prejudged his case, the sneer of the paid advocate, the + scoff of the gaping crowd, to whom the plea of <i>noblesse oblige</i> and + stainless honor and perfect truth seemed only maudlin sentimentality and + Quixotic extravagance. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts were in Edith's mind as she read, and these feelings + swelled within her indignant heart as all the facts in that dread tragedy + were slowly revealed one by one. Coming to this task with a mind convinced + at the outset of her father's innocence, she met with not one circumstance + that could shake that conviction for a moment. In her own strong feeling + she was incapable of understanding how any one could honestly think + otherwise. The testimony of adverse witnesses seemed to her perjury, the + arguments of the lawyers fiendish malignity, the last summing up of the + judge bitter prejudice, and the verdict of the jury a mockery of justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — THE MOMENTOUS RESOLVE. + </h2> + <p> + Early on the following morning Miss Plympton called on Edith, and was + shocked to see the changes that had been made in her by that one night. + She did not regard so much the pallor of her face, the languor of her + manner, and her unelastic step, but rather the new expression that + appeared upon her countenance, the thoughtfulness of her brow, the deep + and earnest abstraction of her gaze. In that one night she seemed to have + stepped from girlhood to maturity. It was as though she had lived through + the intervening experience. Years had been crowded into hours. She was no + longer a school-girl—she was a woman. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton soon retired, with the promise to come again when Edith + should feel stronger. Breakfast was sent up, and taken away untasted, and + at noon Miss Plympton once more made her appearance. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking about many things,” said Edith, after some + preliminary remarks, “and have been trying to recall what I can of my own + remembrance of papa. I was only eight years old, but I have a pretty + distinct recollection of him, and it has been strengthened by his + portrait, which I always have had. Of my mother I have a most vivid + remembrance, and I have never forgotten one single circumstance connected + with her last illness. I remember your arrival, and my departure from home + after all was over. But there is one thing which I should like very much + to ask you about. Did none of my mother's relatives come to see her during + this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother's relatives acted very badly indeed, dear. From the first + they were carried away by the common belief in your dear father's guilt. + Some of them came flying to your mother. She was very ill at the time, and + these relatives brought her the first news which she received. It was a + severe blow. They were hard-hearted or thoughtless enough to denounce your + father to her, and she in her weak state tried to defend him. All this + produced so deplorable an effect that she sank rapidly. Her relatives left + her in this condition. She tried to be carried to your dear father in his + prison, but could not bear the journey. They took her as far as the gates, + but she fainted there, and had to be taken back to the house. So then she + gave up. She knew that she was going to die, and wrote to me imploring me + to come to her. She wished to intrust you to me. I took you from her arms—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton paused, and Edith was silent for some time. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said she, in a scarce audible voice, “darling mamma died of a broken + heart?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton, said nothing. A long silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “Had my father no friends,” asked Edith, “or no relatives?” + </p> + <p> + “He had no relatives,” said Miss Plympton, “but an only sister. She + married a Captain Dudleigh, now Sir Lionel Dudleigh. But it was a very + unhappy marriage, for they separated. I never knew the cause; and Captain + Dudleigh took it so much to heart that he went abroad. He could not have + heard of your father's misfortunes till all was over and it was too late. + But in any case I do not see what he could have done, unless he had + contrived to shake your father's resolve. As to his wife, I have never + heard of her movements, and I think she must have died long ago. Neither + she nor her husband is mentioned at the trial. If they had been in + England, it seems to me that they would have come forward as witnesses in + some way; so I think they were both out of the country. Sir Lionel is + alive yet, I think, but he has always lived out of the world. I believe + his family troubles destroyed his happiness, and made him somewhat + misanthropical. I have sometimes thought in former years that he might + make inquiries about you, but he has never done so to my knowledge, though + perhaps he has tried without being able to hear where you were. After all, + he would scarcely know where to look. On the whole, I consider Sir Lionel + the only friend you have, Edith darling, besides myself, and if any + trouble should ever arise, he would be the one to whom I should apply for + assistance, or at least advice.” + </p> + <p> + Edith listened to this, and made no comment, but after another thoughtful + pause she said, + </p> + <p> + “About this Wiggins—have you ever heard any thing of him since the—the + trial?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said she, “except from those formal business notes. You have seen + them all, and know what they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever formed any opinion of him more favorable than what you + wrote in those notes?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think that I wrote any thing more than suspicions or surmises,” + said Miss Plympton; “and as far as suspicions are concerned, I certainly + have not changed my mind. The position which he occupied during the trial, + and ever since, excites my suspicions against him. All others suffered; he + alone was benefited. And now, too, when all is over, he seems still in his + old position—perhaps a better one than ever—the agent of the + estates, and assuming to some extent a guardianship over you. At least he + gives directions about you, for he says you are to go back to Dalton Hall. + But in that he shall find himself mistaken, for I will never allow you to + put yourself in his power.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen him?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + She bent down her head, and leaned her forehead on her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, in a low voice, half to herself, “it don't matter; I + shall see him soon myself.” + </p> + <p> + “See him yourself!” said Miss Plympton, anxiously. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall see him soon—when I get to Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Dalton Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, simply, raising her head and looking calmly at Miss + Plympton. + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going to Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no other place for me,” said Edith, sadly. “I am going—I + am going as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no—oh no, darling; you are going to do nothing of the kind,” + said Miss Plympton. “I can not let you go. We all love you too dearly. + This is your home, and I now stand in the place of those whom you have + lost. You are never to leave me, Edith dearest.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sighed heavily, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, speaking in a low, melancholy voice—“no, I can not + stay. I can not meet my friends here again. I am not what I was yesterday. + I am changed. It seems as though some heavy weight has come upon me. I + must go away, and I have only one place to go to, and that is my father's + home.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” said Miss Plympton, drawing her chair close to Edith, and + twining her arms about her, “you must not talk so; you can not imagine how + you distress me. I can not let you go. Do not think of these things. We + all love you. Do not imagine that your secret will be discovered. No one + shall ever know it. In a few days you yourself will feel different. The + consciousness of your father's innocence will make you feel more patient, + and the love of all your friends will make your life as happy as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith, “I can not—I can not. You can not imagine how I + dread to see the face of any one of them. I shall imagine that they know + all; and I can not tell them. They will tease me to tell them my troubles, + and it will only worry me. No, for me to stay here is impossible. I would + go any where first.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke so firmly and decisively that Miss Plympton forbore to press her + further just then. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, my darling,” said she, “you need not think of Dalton Hall. I + can find you other places which will be far more suitable to you in every + way. If it distresses you to stay here, I can find a happy home for you, + where you can stay till you feel able to return to us again.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no place,” said Edith, “where I can stay. I do not want to go + among strangers, or to strange places. I have a home, and that is the only + place that I can go to now. That home is familiar to me. I remember it + well. It is where I was born. Dear mamma's room is there, where I used to + sit with her and hear her voice. My dear papa and mamma were happy there; + and she died there. It has its own associations; and now since this great + sorrow has come, I long to go there. It seems the fittest place for me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my child,” said Miss Plympton, anxiously, “there is one thing that + you do not consider. Far be it from me to stand in the way of any of your + wishes, especially at a time like this, but is seems to me that a return + to Dalton Hall just now is hardly safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” + </p> + <p> + Edith spoke in a tone of surprise, and looked inquiringly at Miss + Plympton. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like this John Wiggins,” said Miss Plympton, uneasily; “I am + afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “But what possible cause can there be of fear?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Miss Plympton, with a sigh; “no one can tell. If + my suspicions are at all correct, he is a man who might be very dangerous. + He has control of all the estates, and—” + </p> + <p> + “But for that very reason I would go home,” said Edith, “if there were no + stronger inducement, to do what I can to put an end to his management.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you do any thing with him?” asked Miss Plympton; “you so young + and inexperienced.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Edith, simply; “but the estates are mine, and not + his; and Dalton Hall is mine; and if I am the owner, surely I ought to + have some power. There are other agents in the world, and other lawyers. + They can help me, if I wish help. We are not living in the Middle Ages + when some one could seize one's property by the strong hand and keep it. + There is law in the country, and Wiggins is subject to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my child,” said Miss Plympton, anxiously, “I am terrified at the very + thought of your being in that man's power. You can not tell what things + are possible; and though there is law, as you say, yet it does not always + happen that one can get justice.” + </p> + <p> + “That I know, or ought to know,” said Edith, in a mournful voice; “I have + learned that this past night only too well.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” said Miss Plympton, with the same anxiety in her voice, + “that to return to Dalton Hall will be to put yourself in some way into + his power. If he is really the unscrupulous, crafty, and scheming man that + I have suspected him to be, he will not find it difficult to weave some + plot around you which may endanger your whole life. There is no safety in + being bear that man. Be mistress of Dalton Hall, but do not go there till + you have driven him away. It seems by his last letters as though he is + living there now, and if you go there you will find yourself in some sense + under his control.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Edith, “I do not doubt his willingness to injure me if he + can, or to weave a plot which shall ruin me; but, after all, such a thing + takes time. He can not ruin me in one day, or in one week, and so I think + I can return to Dalton Hall in safety, and be secure for a few days at + least.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton made some further objections, but the vague fears to which + she gave expression met with no response from Edith, who looked upon her + journey home in a very sober and commonplace light, and refused to let her + imagination terrify her. Her argument that Wiggins would require some time + to injure her was not easy to answer, and gradually Miss Plympton found + herself forced to yield to Edith's determination. In fact, there was much + in that resolve which was highly natural. Edith, in the first place, could + not bear to resume her intimacy with her school-mates, for reasons which + she had stated already; and, in addition to this, she had a strong and + irresistible longing to go to the only place that was now her home. There + she hoped to find peace, and gain consolation in the midst of the scenes + of her childhood and the memories of her parents. These were her chief + motives for action now; but in addition to these she had others. The chief + was a strong desire to dismiss Wiggins from his post of agent. + </p> + <p> + The detestation which she had already conceived for this man has been + noticed in a previous chapter. It had grown during past years out of a + habit of her mind to associate with him the apparent alienation of her + father. But now, since her father's past life was explained, this John + Wiggins appeared in a new light. The dark suggestions of Miss Plympton, + her suspicions as to his character and motives, had sunk deep into the + soul of Edith, and taken root there. She had not yet been able to bring + herself to think that this John Wiggins was himself the treacherous + friend, but she was on the high-road to that belief, and already had + advanced far enough to feel convinced that Wiggins could have at least + saved her father if he had chosen. One thing, however, was evident to all + the world, and that was what Miss Plympton laid so much stress on, the + fact that he had profited by her father's ruin, and had won gold and + influence and position out of her father's tears and agonies and death. + And so, while she longed to go home for her own consolation, there also + arose within her another motive to draw her there—the desire to see + this Wiggins, to confront him, to talk to him face to face, to drive him + out from the Dalton estates, and if she could not vindicate her father's + memory, at least put an end to the triumph of one of his false friends. + </p> + <p> + The result of this interview was, then, that Edith should return to Dalton + Hall; and as she was unwilling to wait, she decided to leave in two days. + Miss Plympton was to go with her. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Miss Plympton, “we must write at once and give notice of + your coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Write?” said Edith, coldly, “to whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to—to Wiggins, I suppose,” said Miss Plympton, with some + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to recognize Wiggins,” said Edith. “I will not communicate with + him in any way. My first act shall be to dismiss him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must send some notice to some one; you must have some + preparations made.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall not need any elaborate preparations; a room will be + sufficient. I should not wish to encounter the greetings of this man, or + see him complacently take credit to himself for his attentions to me—and + his preparations. No; I shall go and take things as I find them, and I + should prefer to go without notice.” + </p> + <p> + At this Miss Plympton seemed a little more uneasy than before, and made + further efforts to change Edith's decision, but in vain. She was, in fact, + more perplexed at Edith herself than at any other thing; for this one who + but a day before had been a gentle, tractable, docile, gay, light-hearted + girl had suddenly started up into a stern, self-willed woman, with a + dauntless spirit and inflexible resolve. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one more thing that I have to mention,” said Edith, as Miss + Plympton rose to go. “It is a favor that I have to ask of you. It is + this;” and she laid her hand on the papers of the report, which were lying + rolled up in a parcel on the table. “Have you any further use for this? + Will you let me keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “The need that I had for it,” said Miss Plympton, “was over when I gave it + to you. I prepared it for you, and preserved it for you, and now that you + have it, its work is accomplished. It is yours, dearest, for you to do as + you choose with it.” + </p> + <p> + To this Edith murmured some words of thanks, and taking up the parcel, + proceeded to tie it up more carefully. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE WELCOME HOME. + </h2> + <p> + Dalton Hall was one of the most magnificent country-seats in + Somersetshire. The village of Dalton, which bears the same name as the old + family seat, is situated on the banks of a little river which winds + through a pleasant plain on its course to the Bristol Channel, and at this + place is crossed by a fine old rustic bridge with two arches. The village + church, a heavy edifice, with an enormous ivy-grown tower, stands on the + further side; and beyond that the gables and chimneys of Dalton Hall may + be seen rising, about a mile away, out of the midst of a sea of foliage. + The porter's lodge is about half a mile distant from the church, and the + massive wall which incloses Dalton Park runs along the road for some + miles. + </p> + <p> + There was a railway station about four miles away from the village, and it + was at this station that Edith arrived on her way home. Miss Plympton had + come with her, with the intention of remaining long enough to see Edith + comfortably installed in her new abode, and with the hope of persuading + her to go back if circumstances did not seem favorable. A footman and a + maid also accompanied them. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the station they found themselves at first at a loss how to + proceed, for there were no carriages in waiting. Of course, as no notice + had been sent of her journey, Edith could not expect to find any carriage + from Dalton Hall; nor did she think much about this circumstance. Dressed + in deep mourning, with her pale face and dark, thoughtful eyes, she seemed + to be given up to her own mournful reflections; and on finding that they + would have to wait, she seated herself on a bench, and looked with an + abstracted gaze upon the surrounding scene. Miss Plympton gave some + directions to the footman, who at once went off to seek a carriage; after + which she seated herself near Edith, while the maid sat on a trunk at a + little distance. They had traveled all day long, and felt very much + fatigued; so that nothing was said by any of them as they sat there + waiting for the footman's return. At length, after about half an hour, a + hackney-coach drove up, which the footman had procured from an inn not far + away, and in this undignified manner they prepared to complete their + journey. A long drive of four or five miles now remained; and when at + length they reached the park gate none of them had much strength left. + Here the coach stopped, and the footman rang the bell loudly and + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + There was no immediate answer to this summons, and the footman rang again + and again; and finally, as the delay still continued, he gave the bell a + dozen tremendous pulls in quick succession. This brought an answer, at any + rate; for a man appeared, emerging from a neighboring grove, who walked + toward the gate with a rapid pace. He was a short, bull-necked, thickset, + broad-shouldered man, with coarse black hair and heavy, matted beard. His + nose was flat on his face, his chin was square, and he looked exactly like + a prize-fighter. He had a red shirt, with a yellow spotted handkerchief + flung about his neck, and his corduroy trowsers were tucked into a pair of + muddy boots. + </p> + <p> + The moment he reached the gate he roared out a volley of the most fearful + oaths: Who were they? What did they mean, <i>dash</i> them? What the <i>dash + dash</i> did they mean by making such a <i>dash dash</i> noise? + </p> + <p> + “You'll get your ugly head broken, you scoundrel!” roared the footman, who + was beside himself with rage at this insult to his mistress, coming as it + did at the close of so long and irritating a delay. “Hold your infernal + tongue, and open the gate at once. Is this the way you dare to talk before + your mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Mistress! You <i>dashed</i> fool,” was the response, “what the <i>dash</i> + do I know about mistresses? I'll make a beginning with you, you sleek, fat + powder-monkey, with your shiny beaver and stuffed calves!” + </p> + <p> + Edith heard all this, and her amazement was so great that it drove away + all fatigue. Her heart beat high and her spirit rose at this insult. + Opening the carriage door, she sprang out, and, walking up to the gate, + she confronted the porter as a goddess might confront a satyr. The calm, + cold gaze which she gave his was one which the brute could not encounter. + He could face any one of his own order; but the eye that now rested on him + gave him pain, and his glance fell sulkily before that of his mistress. + </p> + <p> + “I am your mistress—Miss Dalton,” said Edith. “Open that gate + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know any thing about mistresses,” said the fellow. “My orders are + not to open them gates to nobody.” + </p> + <p> + At this rebuff Edith was for a moment perplexed, but soon rallied. She + reflected that this man was a servant under orders, and that it would be + useless to talk to him. She must see the principal. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave those orders?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins,” said the man, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that man here now?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + The man looked up suspiciously and in evident surprise, but his eyes fell + again. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins? He is here; he lives here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do you go at once,” said Edith, loftily, “and say to that man that + Miss Dalton is here.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow glanced furtively at the carriage, where he saw the pale face + of Miss Plympton and the paler face of the maid, and then with a grunt he + turned and walked up the avenue. Edith went back to the carriage and + resumed her seat. + </p> + <p> + This scene had produced a profound effect upon her two companions. Miss + Plympton's worst apprehensions seemed justified by this rude repulse at + the gates, and the moment that Edith came back she began to entreat her to + return. + </p> + <p> + “Come back,” she said, “to the inn. Do, darling, at least for the night, + till we can send word to Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith, firmly; “I will not recognize Wiggins at all. I am going + to dismiss him the moment that I enter the Hall. I can wait patiently just + now.” + </p> + <p> + “But at least come back for this night. You may be sure that they will not + be ready for you. You will have to come back after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Edith, “I shall at least take formal possession of Dalton + Hall first, and let Wiggins see that I am mistress there.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton sighed. Every hour only showed in a stronger manner how + hopeless was any attempt of hers to move Edith from any resolve that she + might make. Already she recognized in that slender young girl the stubborn + spirit of her father—a spirit which would meet death and destruction + rather than swerve from its set purpose. + </p> + <p> + Nothing more was said, but they all waited patiently for the porter's + return. It seemed a very long time. The footman fussed and fumed, and at + length beguiled the time by smoking and chatting with the coachman, whom + he questioned about Mr. Wiggins. The coachman, however, could give him no + information on the subject. “I only know,” said he, “as how that this yer + Wiggins is a Liverpool gent, an' latterly he seems inclined to live here. + But he don't never see no company, an' keeps hisself shut up close.” + </p> + <p> + At length, after waiting for more than half an hour, the noise of carriage + wheels was heard, and a brougham appeared driven by the porter. He turned + the brougham inside the gate, and then getting down, he unlocked the small + gate and advanced to the carriage. The fellow seemed now to try to be more + respectful, for he had a hat on his head which he took off, and made a + clumsy attempt at a bow. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss,” said he, “for keepin' you waitin'; but I had to put + the hosses in. Mr. Wiggins says as how you're to come up in the brougham, + an' your trunks an' things 'll be took up afterward. + </p> + <p> + “But I want to drive up in this coach. I can't remove the luggage,” said + Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that, miss,” said the porter. “I've got to do as I'm + told.” + </p> + <p> + At this Edith was silent; but her flashing eyes and a flush that swept + over her pale face showed her indignation. + </p> + <p> + “So this is the way he dares to treat me,” said she, after some silence. + “Well,” she continued, “for the present I must yield and submit to this + insolence. But it only shows more clearly the character of the man. I + suppose we must go,” she continued, looking at Miss Plympton, and once + more opening the coach door herself. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton had been more agitated than ever at this last message, and + as Edith opened the door she asked her, breathlessly, + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? What are you going to do, dear? + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Dalton Hall,” said Edith, quietly. “We must go in the + brougham, and we must quit this.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton hesitated, and the maid, who was still more terrified, + clasped her hands in silent despair. But the porter, who had heard all, + now spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss,” said he, “but that lady needn't trouble about it. It's + Mr. Wiggins's orders, miss, that on'y <i>you</i> are to go to the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “What insufferable insolence!” exclaimed Miss Plympton. “What shocking and + abominable arrogance!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not regard it in the slightest,” said Edith, serenely. “It is only + assumption on his part. You are to come with me. If I pass through that + gate you are to come also. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dearest, my own dearest Edith, do not!—wait!—come back + and let us talk over what we ought to do. Let us see a lawyer. Let us wait + till to-morrow, and see if a stranger like Wiggins can refuse admission to + the mistress of Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, mum,” said the porter, “but Mr. Wiggins ain't refusin' + admission to Miss Dalton—it's others that he don't want, that's all. + The lawyers can't do any thin' agin that.” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said Miss Plympton, “do you hear that? You shall not go. This + man knows well what he can do. He understands all the worst injustice that + can be done in the name of law. His whole life has been lived in the + practice of all those iniquities that the law winks at. You see now at the + outset what his purpose is. He will admit you, but not your friends. He + wishes to get you alone in his power. And why does he not come himself? + Why does he use such an agent as this?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton spoke rapidly, and in excited tones, but her excitement did + not affect Edith in the slightest degree. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are altogether too imaginative,” said she. “His orders are + absurd. If I go through that gate, you shall go too. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith! Edith! I implore you, my darling,” cried Miss Plympton, “do not + go. Come back. It will not be long to wait. Come to the village till + to-morrow. Let us at least get the advice of a lawyer. The law can surely + give an entrance to the rightful owner.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE DREW FROM HIS BREAST A LARGE CLASP-KNIFE."} + </p> + <p> + “But he doesn't deny an entrance to me,” said Edith, “and if I go, you + shall come also. Come.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton hesitated. She saw that Edith was fully determined to go to + Dalton Hall, and she could not bear to part with her. But at the same time + she was so terrified at the thought of forcing a way in spite of the + opposition of so formidable a villain as Wiggins that she shrank from it. + Love at length triumphed over fear, and she followed Edith out of the + coach, together with the maid. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the porter had stood in deep perplexity watching this scene, but + at length when Miss Plympton had reached the ground and prepared to follow + Edith he put himself in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss,” said he, “but its agin orders for them others to go. + It's on'y you that Mr. Wiggins 'll let in.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins has nothing to say about the matter,” said Edith, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But I've got to obey orders,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please stand aside and let me pass?” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I can't let them others in,” said the porter, doggedly. “You may go.” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said Edith, quietly, “I'm sorry to trouble you, but you must watch + this man; and, driver, do you stand at the gate and keep it open.” + </p> + <p> + At this John flung down his hat upon the road, tore off his coat and + tossed it after the hat, and, with a chuckle of something like exultation, + prepared to obey his mistress by putting himself in a “scientific” + attitude. He saw well enough that the porter was a formidable foe, and his + face was a diploma in itself that fully testified to the skill and science + of that foe; but John was plucky, and in his prime, and very confident in + his own powers. So John stood off and prepared for the fray. On the other + hand, the porter was by no means at a loss. As John prepared he backed + slowly toward the gate, glaring like a wild beast at his assailant. But + John was suddenly interrupted in his movements by the driver. + </p> + <p> + “See here, young man,” said the latter, who had sprung from the box at + Edith's order, “do you stand by the gate, an' I'll tickle that feller with + this whip, an' see how he likes it.” + </p> + <p> + The driver was a stout, solid, muscular fellow, with broad shoulders and + bull-dog aspect. In his hand he flourished a heavy whip, and as he spoke + his eyes sought out some part of the porter's person at which he might + take aim. As he spoke the porter became aware of this second assailant, + and a dark and malignant frown lowered over his evil face. He slowly drew + from his breast a large clasp-knife which was as formidable as a dagger, + and opening this, he held it significantly before him. + </p> + <p> + But now a new turn was given to the progress of affairs. Had the porter + said nothing, Miss Plympton might have overcome her fears far enough to + accompany Edith; but his menacing looks and words, and these preparations + for a struggle, were too much. + </p> + <p> + “Edith, my child, my dearest, do not! do not! I can not go; I will not. + See these men; they will kill one another. John, come away. Driver, go + back to the box. Come away at once. Do you hear, John?” + </p> + <p> + John did hear, and after some hesitation concluded to obey. He stepped + back from the gate, and stood awaiting the progress of events. The driver + also stood, waiting further orders. + </p> + <p> + “Edith dearest,” said Miss Plympton, “nothing would induce me to go + through those gates. You must not go.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure,” said Edith, “I shall be very sorry if you will not come; but, + for my own part, I am quite resolved to go. Don't be afraid. Come.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton shuddered and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Edith, “perhaps it will be as well for you to wait, since you + are so agitated; and if you really will not come, you can drive back to + the village. At any rate, I can see you to-morrow, and I will drive down + for you the first thing.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton looked mournfully at Edith. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Richards,” said Edith, looking at her maid, “I suppose it is no + use for me to ask you. I see how it is. Well, never mind. I dare say she + needs you more than I do; and to-morrow will make all right. I see it only + distresses you for me to press you so I will say no more. Good-by for the + present.” + </p> + <p> + Edith held out her hand. Miss Plympton took it, let it go, and folding + Edith in her arms, she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid—I'm afraid,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “What of?” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “About you,” moaned Miss Plympton. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Edith. “I shall call on you to-morrow as soon as you are + up.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton sighed. + </p> + <p> + Edith held out her hand to her maid, Richards, and kindly bade her + good-by. The girl wept bitterly, and could not speak. It was an unusual + thing for Edith to do, and was rather too solemn a proceeding in view of a + short separation for one night, and this struck Edith herself. But who + knows what one night may bring forth? + </p> + <p> + Edith now left them, and, passing through the gate, she stood and waved + her hand at them. The porter followed and shut the gate. Miss Plympton, + the maid, the driver, and John all stood looking after Edith with uneasy + faces. Seeing that, she forced a smile, and finding that they would not go + till she had gone, she waved a last adieu and entered the brougham. As she + did so she heard the bolt turn in the lock as the porter fastened the + gate, and an ominous dread arose within her. Was this a presentiment? Did + she have a dim foreshadowing of the future? Did she conjecture how long it + would be before she passed through that gate again, and how and wherefore? + It matters not. Other thoughts soon came, and the porter jumping into the + seat, drove rapidly off. + </p> + <p> + Edith found herself carried along through lordly avenues, with giant + trees, the growth of centuries; rising grandly on either side and + overarching above, and between which long vistas opened, where the eye + could take in wide glades and sloping meadows. Sometimes she caught sight + of eminences rising in the distance covered with groves, and along the + slopes herds of deer sometimes came bounding. Finally there came to view a + broad lawn, with a pond in the centre, beyond which arose a stately + edifice which Edith recognized as the home of her childhood. + </p> + <p> + It needed only one glance, however, to show Edith that a great change had + taken place since those well-remembered days of childhood. Every where the + old order and neatness had disappeared, and now in all directions there + were the signs of carelessness and neglect. The once smooth lawn was now + overgrown with tall grass; the margin of the pond was filled with rushes, + and its surface with slime; some of the windows of the Hall were out, and + some of the chimney-pots were broken; while over the road grass had been + allowed to grow in many places. Edith recognized all this, and an + involuntary sigh escaped her. The carriage at length stopped, and she got + out and ascended the steps to the door of the house. + </p> + <p> + The door was open, and an ungainly-looking negro servant was standing in + the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Who has charge of this house?” asked Edith. “Is there a housekeeper?” + </p> + <p> + The servant grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Housekeepa, miss? Yes, miss, dar's Missa Dunbar.” + </p> + <p> + “Call the housekeeper, then,” said Edith, “and tell her that I am waiting + for her in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + The servant went off, and Edith then entered the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — THE STRANGE INMATES OF DALTON HALL. + </h2> + <p> + In that well-remembered drawing-room there was much that renewed the long + past grief of childhood, and nothing whatever to soothe the sorrow of the + present. Looking around, Edith found many things the same as she once + remembered them; but still there were great changes—changes, too, + which were of the same nature as those which she had noticed outside. + Every thing showed traces of carelessness and long neglect. The seats of + many of the handsome, richly carved chairs were ruined. Costly vases had + disappeared. Dust covered every thing. Books and ornaments which lay + around were soiled and spoiled. In that apparently deserted house there + seemed to have been no one for years who cared to preserve the original + grace and elegance of its decorations. But Edith did not have a very long + time to give to her survey of this room, for in a few minutes she heard + the rustle of a dress, and, turning, she saw a woman approaching who was + evidently the housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + Edith was prepared to see some woman who might be in keeping with these + desolate surroundings and with the ruffian porter at the gate—some + coarse, insolent female; and she had also prepared herself to encounter + any rudeness with fortitude. But the first sight of Mrs. Dunbar was enough + to show her that her anticipations were completely unfounded. + </p> + <p> + She was a woman might have been about fifty, and even older. The outline + of her features showed marks of former beauty and the general air of her + face was altogether above the rank of a household domestic. The expression + was one of calm, strong self-control, of dignity, and of resolution; at + the same time there was in her dark, earnest eyes a certain vigilant + outlook, as of one who is on guard at all times; and her gaze as she fixed + it upon Edith was one of searching, eager, yet most cautious and wary + examination. On the whole, this woman excited some surprise in Edith; and + while she was gratified at finding in her one who was not out of the reach + of respect, she yet was perplexed at the calm and searching scrutiny of + which she was the object. But she did not now take any time to think about + this. A vague idea occurred to her that Mrs. Dunbar, like many other + housekeepers, was one of that numerous class who “have seen better days;” + so, after the first look, she felt sufficiently satisfied, and advancing a + step or two to meet her, she frankly held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper took it, and said, simply, “Welcome to Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Edith. “If I had met you before, I might have been + spared some humiliation. But I need not talk of that. I am very tired and + very faint. I have traveled all day and have met with gross insult at my + own gate. I want food and rest. Will you have the kindness, then, to take + me to my own room at once, and then, get me a cup of tea?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar had not removed her earnest eyes from Edith; and even after + she had ceased speaking she still looked at her for a few moments in the + same way without answering. + </p> + <p> + “We did not know that you were coming so soon,” said she at length; “and I + can not tell you how I regret what has happened. It was too hard for you. + But we were taken by surprise. I entreat you not to suppose that any thing + but kindness was intended.” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked now at Mrs. Dunbar with an earnest scrutiny that was fully + equal to the searching gaze of the former. Mrs. Dunbar's tone was cordial + and lady-like, but Edith felt repugnance at her use of the word “we.” By + that little word she at once identified herself with Wiggins, and made + herself in part responsible for the scene at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Kindness,” said she, “is a strange word to use in connection with that + scene, when I found myself forced to part with the only mother that I have + known since my own mamma died.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar looked at her in silence, and there came over her face a + strange, patient expression that at any other time would have excited + Edith's sympathy and pity. Some reply seemed to rise to her lips, but if + it was so, it was instantly checked; and after a moment's hesitation she + said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is cheerless in this room. If you will come with me I will take you + where you can be more comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, she led the way out, and Edith followed, feeling a little + perplexed at Mrs. Dunbar's manner, and trying to understand how it was + that she was so identified with Wiggins. She thought she could see an + evident kindliness toward herself, but how that could coexist with the + treatment which she had received at the gates was rather a puzzle. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar led the way up to the second story, and along a corridor + toward the right wing. Here she came to a room in the front of the house + which looked out upon the park, and commanded an extensive view. There was + a well-furnished bedroom off this room, to which Mrs. Dunbar at once led + her. + </p> + <p> + “If we had only received notice that you were coming,” said she, “you + would have met with a better reception.” + </p> + <p> + Edith said nothing, for once more the word “we” jarred unpleasantly upon + her. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you have any objection to occupy this room for to-night?” asked + Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Edith, “none whatever; but I should like very much to + have my luggage. It was taken back to Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Miss Plympton was not admitted, and my luggage was on the coach.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar made no reply for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “I should feel much obliged if you would send one of the servants to fetch + it,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why not,” said Mrs. Dunbar, in a hesitating voice. + </p> + <p> + “And have you any writing materials?” asked Edith. “I should like to send + a few lines to Miss Plympton.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar looked at her with one of those strange, searching glances + peculiar to her, and after some hesitation said, “I will look.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Edith, and turned away. Mrs. Dunbar then left her, and + did not return for some time. At length she made her appearance, followed + by the black servant, who carried a tray. A table was laid in the outer + room, and a bountiful repast spread there. Edith did not eat much, + however. She sat sipping a cup of tea, and thinking profoundly, while Mrs. + Dunbar took a seat a little on one side, so as to be unobserved, from + which position she watched Edith most closely. It was as though she was + studying the character of this young girl so as to see what its promise + might be. And if Mrs. Dunbar had any knowledge of the world, one thing + must have been plainly manifest to her in that examination, and that was + that this young girl was not to be managed or controlled after the fashion + of most of her kind, but would require very difficult and very peculiar + treatment if she were to be bent to the will of others. Mrs. Dunbar seemed + to recognize this, and the discovery seemed to create distress, for a + heavy sigh escaped her. + </p> + <p> + The sigh roused Edith. She at once rose from her seat and turned round. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mrs. Dunbar,” said she, “if you will let me have the writing + materials I will send a few lines to poor Miss Plympton.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar at once arose, and going out of the room, returned in a few + minutes with a desk, which she laid upon another table. Edith at once + seated herself to write, and while the black servant was removing the + things she hurriedly wrote the following: + </p> + <h4> + “DALTON HALL. + </h4> + <p> + “My darling Auntie,—I write at once because I know you will be + devoured with anxiety, and will not sleep to-night unless you hear from + me. You will be delighted to learn, then, that I am safe and unharmed. The + man Wiggins has not yet made his appearance, but I hope to see him this + evening. The Hall looks familiar, but desolate, except in the room where I + now am writing, where I find sufficient comfort to satisfy me. I am too + much fatigued to write any more, nor is it necessary, as I intend to call + on you as early as possible to-morrow morning. Until then good-by, and + don't be foolishly anxious about your own. + </p> + <h4> + “EDITH.” + </h4> + <p> + This note Edith folded and directed to “Miss Plympton, Dalton.” After + which she handed it to Mrs. Dunbar, who took it in silence and left the + room. + </p> + <p> + For some time Edith sat involved in thought. She had written cheerfully + enough to Miss Plympton, but that was from a kindly desire to reassure + her. In reality, she was overwhelmed with loneliness and melancholy. The + aspect of the grounds below and of the drawing-room had struck a chill to + her heart. This great drear house oppressed her, and the melancholy with + which she had left Plympton Terrace now became intensified. The gloom that + had overwhelmed her father seemed to rest upon her father's house, and + descended thence upon her own spirit, strong and brave though it was. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of her melancholy thoughts she was startled at the sound of a + low sigh immediately behind her. She turned hastily, and saw a man + standing there, who had entered the room so silently that, in her + abstraction, she had not heard him. He was now standing about half-way + between her and the door, and his eyes were fixed upon her with something + of that same earnest scrutiny which she had already observed in the gaze + of Mrs. Dunbar. One glance at this man was sufficient to show her that it + was no servant, and that it could be no other than Wiggins himself. He was + not a man, however, who could be dismissed with a glance. There was + something in him which compelled a further survey, and Edith found herself + filled with a certain indefinable wonder as she looked at him. His eyes + were fixed on her; her eyes were fixed on him; and they both looked upon + each other in silence. + </p> + <p> + He was a man who might once have been tall, but now was stooping so that + his original height was concealed. He was plainly dressed, and his coat of + some thin black stuff hung loosely about him. He wore slippers, which + served to account for his noiseless entrance. Yet it was not things like + these that Edith noticed at that time, but rather the face that now + appeared before her. + </p> + <p> + It was a face which is only met with once in a lifetime?—a face + which had such an expression that the beholder could only feel baffled. It + was the face of one who might be the oldest of men, so snow-white was the + hair, so deep were the lines that were graven upon it. His cheek-bones + were prominent, his mouth was concealed by a huge gray mustache, and his + cheeks were sunken, while his forehead projected, and was fringed with + heavy eyebrows, from behind which his dark eyes glowed with a sort of + gloomy lustre from cavernous depths. Over his whole face there was one + pervading expression that was more than despondency, and near akin to + despair. It was the expression of a man whose life had been a series of + disheartening failures, or of one who had sinned deeply, or of one who had + suffered unusual and protracted anguish of soul, or of one who has been + long a prey to that form of madness which takes the form of melancholy. So + this might mean a ruined life, or it might mean madness, or it might be + the stamp of sorrow, or it might be the handwriting of remorse. Whatever + it was could certainly not be gathered from one survey, or from many, nor, + indeed, could it be known for certain at all without this man's + confession. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “AND THIS WAS WIGGINS!”} + </p> + <p> + For in addition to this mysterious expression there was another, which was + combined with it so closely that it seemed to throw conjecture still + further off the track and bewilder the gazer. This was a certain air of + patient and incessant vigilance, a look-out upon the world as from behind + an outpost of danger, the hunted look of the criminal who fears detection, + or the never-ending watchfulness of the uneasy conscience. + </p> + <p> + All this Edith could not help seeing, and she gathered this general result + from her survey of that face, though at that time she could not put her + conclusion in words. It seemed to her to be remorse which she saw there, + and the manifestations of a stricken conscience. It was the criminal who + feared detection, the wrong-doer on the constant look-out for discovery—a + criminal most venerable, a wrong-doer who must have suffered; but if a + criminal, one of dark and bitter memories, and one whose thoughts, + reaching over the years, must have been as gloomy as death. + </p> + <p> + And this was Wiggins! + </p> + <p> + Not the Mephistopheles which she had imagined; not the evil mocking fiend; + but one rather who originally had not been without good instincts, and who + might have become a virtuous man had fate not prevented. It was not the + leering, sneering tempter that she saw, but rather some representation of + that archangel ruined, for it was as though “his brow deep scars of + thunder had intrenched, and care sat on his faded cheek.” + </p> + <p> + At first the woman's heart of Edith made itself felt, and she pitied him; + but quickly the daughter's heart spoke, and it denounced him. If this man + felt remorse, it could only be for one great crime, and what crime was so + great as that of the betrayal of Frederick Dalton? Was it this that had + crushed the traitor? Thoughts like these flashed through her mind, and her + glance, which at first had softened from commiseration, now grew stern and + cold and hard; and the fixed, eager look which came to her from those + gloomy and mournful eyes was returned by one which was hard and pitiless + and repellent. Back to her heart came that feeling which for a moment had + faltered: the old hate, nourished through her lifetime, and magnified + during the last few days to all-absorbing proportions: the strongest + feeling of her nature, the hate of the enemy of herself and the destroyer + of her father. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins, on his part, with his quick, vigilant eyes, did not fail to mark + at once the change that had come over Edith. He saw the first glance of + pity, and then the transition to coldness deepening into hate. Until then + there had seemed a spell upon him which fixed his gaze on Edith, but now + the spell was suddenly broken. He removed his gaze, and then, taking a + chair, he sat upon it, and for a few moments remained with his eyes fixed + on the floor. + </p> + <p> + At last he raised his head, and, looking fixedly at Edith, began to speak, + and spoke in a strange, low, measured tone, with frequent hesitations; in + a way also that gave the idea of one who, for some cause or other, was + putting a strong constraint upon himself, and only speaking by an effort. + </p> + <p> + “I regret, very deeply,” said he, “that you were treated with rudeness. + Had I known that you would come so soon, I should have notified the—the + porter. But he—he meant no harm. He is very faithful—to + orders.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to say,” said Edith, “that it was not the rudeness of the + porter that was offensive, but rather the rudeness of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins started. + </p> + <p> + “Of myself?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Edith; “in refusing to admit one who is my dearest + friend on earth.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins drew a long breath, and looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “It was distressing to me,” said he at length; “but it could not be.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Edith felt inexpressibly galled, but for the time restrained + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would have been pleased,” said she, “if I had gone away with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” said Wiggins, dreamily—“oh no.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought for a time of doing so,” said Edith; “and in that case I should + have come to-morrow, or as soon as possible, with the officers of the law, + to reply to your orders.” + </p> + <p> + At this Wiggins looked at her with a strange and solemn glance, which + puzzled Edith. + </p> + <p> + “You would have regretted it,” said he, “eventually.” + </p> + <p> + “Few would have done as I did,” said Edith, “in coming here alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You did right,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “At the same time,” said Edith, firmly, “if I have forborne once, I assure + you I shall not do so again. You are in a wrong course altogether. I shall + put an end to this at once. And I tell you now that this place must be + made ready for Miss Plympton tomorrow. I will have that brutal porter + dismissed at once. As to yourself and the housekeeper, I need say nothing + just now.” + </p> + <p> + If it had been possible for that gray face to have turned grayer or paler, + it would have done so as Edith uttered these words. Wiggins fixed his + solemn eyes on her, and their glance had something in it which was almost + awful. After a moment he slowly passed his thin hand over his brow, + frowned, and looked away. Then he murmured, in a low voice, as if to + himself, + </p> + <p> + “The girl's mad!” + </p> + <p> + Edith heard these words, and for a moment thought Wiggins himself must be + mad; but his calmness and cold constraint looked too much like sober + sense. She herself had her own dark and gloomy feelings, and these glowed + in her heart with a fervid fire—too fervid, indeed, to admit of + utterance. She too had to put upon herself a constraint to keep back the + words, glowing with hot wrath and fervid indignation, which she could have + flung upon her father's betrayer. But because words were weak, and because + such deeds as his had to be repaid by act and in kind, she forbore. + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary,” said Wiggins at length, “to live here in seclusion for + a time. You will gradually become accustomed to it, and it will be all for + the best. It may not be for so very long, after all—perhaps not more + than one year. Perhaps you may eventually be admitted to—to our + purposes.” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Edith, “is childish. What you mean I do not know, nor do I + care to. You seem to hint at seclusion. I do not feel inclined for + society, but a seclusion of your making is not to my taste. You must + yourself go elsewhere to seek this seclusion. This is mine, and here I + intend to bring the friends whom I wish to have with me. I can only regard + your present course as the act of a thoroughly infatuated man. You have + had things all your own way thus far, and seem to have come to regard this + place as yours, and never to have counted upon any thing but acquiescence + on my part in your plans.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins fastened his solemn eyes upon her, and murmured, + </p> + <p> + “True.” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, therefore,” said Edith, loftily, “for you to make any + opposition. It will only be foolish, and you will ultimately be ruined by + it.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “It is only a waste of time,” said he. “I confess you are different from + what I anticipated. You do not know. You can not understand. You are too + rash and self-confident. I can not tell you what my plans are; I can only + tell you my wishes.” + </p> + <p> + Edith rose to her feet, and stood opposite, with her large eyes flaming + from her white face. + </p> + <p> + “This insolence,” said she, “has lasted too long. It is you who must obey + me—not I you. You speak as though there were no such thing as law.” + </p> + <p> + “I said nothing about obedience,” said Wiggins, in a mournful voice, + which, in spite of herself, affected Edith very strangely. “I spoke of + plans which could not be communicated to you yet, and of my wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “But I,” said Edith, mildly, “wish you to understand that I have my own wishes. + You make use of a tone which I can not tolerate for a moment. I have only + one thing more to say, and that is to repeat my former direction. I <i>must</i> + have Miss Plympton here tomorrow, and preparations for her <i>must</i> be + made. Once for all, you must understand that between you and me there is + absolutely nothing in common; and I tell you now that it is my intention + to dispense with your services at the earliest possible date. I will not + detain you any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, she waved her hand toward the door, and then resumed her + seat. + </p> + <p> + As for Wiggins, he looked at her with his usual solemn gaze during these + remarks. His bowed form seemed to be bent more as he listened to her + words. When she ceased and sat down he stood listening still, as though he + heard some echo to her words. Edith did not look up, but turned her eyes + in another direction, and so did not see the face that was still turned + toward her. But if she had looked there she would have seen a face which + bore a deeper impress than ever of utter woe. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments he turned and left the room, as silently as he came. + </p> + <p> + Before retiring that night Edith called Mrs. Dunbar, and gave her some + directions about preparing another bedroom and the drawing-room. To her + orders, which were somewhat positive, Mrs. Dunbar listened in silence, and + merely bowed in reply. + </p> + <p> + After which Edith retired, weary and worn out, and troubled in many ways. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — WALLED IN. + </h2> + <p> + Very early on the following day Edith arose, and found Mrs. Dunbar already + moving about. She remarked that she had heard Edith dressing herself, and + had prepared a breakfast for her. This little mark of attention was very + grateful to Edith, who thanked Mrs. Dunbar quite earnestly, and found the + repast a refreshing one. After this, as it was yet too early to think of + calling on Miss Plympton, she wandered about the house. The old nooks and + corners dear to memory were visited once more. Familiar scenes came back + before her. Here was the nursery, there her mother's room, in another + place the library. There, too, was the great hall up stairs, with pictures + on each side of ancestors who went back to the days of the Plantagenets. + There were effigies in armor of knights who had fought in the Crusades and + in the Wars of the Roses; of cavaliers who had fought for King Charles; of + gallant gentlemen who had followed their country's flag under the burning + sun of India, over the sierras of Spain, and in the wilderness of America. + And of all these she was the last, and all that ancestral glory was bound + up in her, a weak and fragile girl. Deeply she regretted at that moment + that she was not a man, so that she might confer new lustre upon so + exalted a lineage. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE SAW THE BLACK SERVANT, HUGO."} + </p> + <p> + As she wandered through the rooms and galleries all her childhood came + back before her. She recalled her mother, her fond love, and her early + death. That mother's picture hung in the great hall, and she gazed at it + long and pensively, recalling that noble face, which in her remembrance + was always softened by the sweet expression of tenderest love. But it was + here that something met her eyes which in a moment chased away every + regretful thought and softer feeling, and brought back in fresh vehemence + the strong glow of her grief and indignation. Turning away from her + mother's portrait by a natural impulse to look for that of her father, she + was at first unable to find it. At length, at the end of the line of + Dalton portraits, she noticed what at first she had supposed to be part of + the wall out of repair. Another glance, however, showed that it was the + back of a picture. In a moment she understood it. It was her father's + portrait, and the face had been turned to the wall. + </p> + <p> + Stung by a sense of intolerable insult, her face flushed crimson, and she + remained for a few moments rooted to the spot glaring at the picture. Who + had dared to do this—to heap insult upon that innocent and suffering + head, to wrong so foully the memory of the dead? Her first impulse was to + tear it down with her own hands, and replace it in its proper position; + her next to seek out Wiggins at once and denounce him to his face for all + his perfidy, of which this was the fitting climax. But a more sober + thought followed—the thought of her own weakness. What could her + words avail against a man like that? Better far would it be for her to + wait until she could expel the usurper, and take her own place as + acknowledged mistress in Dalton Hall. This thought made her calmer, and + she reflected that she need not wait very long. This day would decide it + all, and this very night her father's portrait should be placed in its + right position. + </p> + <p> + This incident destroyed all relish for further wandering about the house, + and though it was yet early, she determined to set out at once for the + village and find Miss Plympton. With this design she descended to the + lower hall, and saw there the same black servant whom she had seen the day + before. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Hugo,” said the black, with his usual grin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hugo,” said she, “I want the brougham. Go to the stables, have the + horses put in, and come back as soon as you can. And here is something for + your trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, she proffered him a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + But the black did not appear to see it. He simply said, “Yes, miss,” and + turned away. Edith was surprised; but thinking that it was merely his + stupidity, she went up stairs and waited patiently for a long time. But, + in spite of her waiting, there were no signs of any carriage; and at + length, growing impatient, she determined to go to the stables herself. + She knew the way there perfectly well, and soon reached the place. To her + surprise and vexation the doors were locked, and there were no signs + whatever of Hugo. + </p> + <p> + “The stupid black must have misunderstood me,” thought she. + </p> + <p> + She now returned to the house, and wandered all about in search of some + servants. But she saw none. She began to think that Hugo was the only + servant in the place; and if so, as he had disappeared, her chance of + getting the brougham was small indeed. As for Wiggins, she did not think + of asking him, and Mrs. Dunbar was too much under the influence of Wiggins + for her to apply there. She was therefore left to herself. + </p> + <p> + Time passed thus, and Edith's impatience grew intolerable. At length, as + she could not obtain a carriage, she determined to set out on foot and + walk to Dalton. She began now to think that Wiggins had seen Hugo, found + out what she wanted, and had forbidden the servant to obey. This seemed + the only way in which she could account for it all. If this were so, it + showed that there was some unpleasant meaning in the language which + Wiggins had used to her on the previous evening about a secluded life, and + in that case any delay made her situation more unpleasant. She had already + lost too much time, and therefore could wait no longer. On the instant, + therefore, she set out, and walked down the great avenue toward the gates. + It was a longer distance than she had supposed: so long, indeed, did it + seem that once or twice she feared that she had taken the wrong road; but + at last her fears were driven away by the sight of the porter's lodge. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the gates she found them locked. For this she had not been + prepared; but a moment's reflection showed her that this need not excite + surprise. She looked up at them with a faint idea of climbing over. One + glance, however, showed that to be impossible; they were high, and spiked + at the top, and over them was a stone arch which left no room for any one + to climb over. She looked at the wall, but that also was beyond her + powers. Only one thing now remained, and that was to apply to the porter. + After this fellow's rudeness on the previous day, she felt an excessive + repugnance toward making any application to him now; but her necessity was + urgent, and time pressed. So she quieted her scruples, and going to the + door of the porter's house, knocked impatiently. + </p> + <p> + The porter came at once to the door, and bowed as respectfully as + possible. His demeanor, in fact, was totally different from what it had + been on the previous day, and evinced every desire to show respect, though + perhaps he might manifest it rather awkwardly. Edith noticed this, and was + encouraged by it. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to let me out,” said Edith. “I'm going to Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at her, and then at the ground, and then fumbled his + fingers together; after which he plunged his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear what I say?” said Edith, sharply. “I want you to unlock the + gate.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss, as to that—I humbly beg your pardon, miss, but I've got + my orders not to.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Edith. “No one here gives orders but me. I am mistress + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss, but I don't know any master but Master Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins!” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss, an' hopin' it's no offense. I have to obey orders.” + </p> + <p> + “But he couldn't have given you orders about me,” said Edith, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “He said all persons, miss, comin' or goin', all the same. No offense + bein' intended, miss, an' beggin' your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is absurd,” said Edith. “He knows that I am going to Dalton. You + have misunderstood him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, miss. I'd do any thin' to oblige, miss; but I've got to do as + I'm bid.” + </p> + <p> + “Who employs you?” + </p> + <p> + “Master, miss—Master Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to keep this situation?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep this situation?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You don't want to be turned out, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, obey me now, and you shall remain. I am the mistress of Dalton + Hall, and the owner of these estates. Wiggins is the agent, and seems + disinclined to do what I wish. He will have to leave. If you don't want to + leave also, obey me now.” + </p> + <p> + All this seemed to puzzle the porter, but certainly made no impression + upon his resolve. He looked at Edith, then at the ground, then at the + trees, and finally, as Edith concluded, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss, but orders is orders, an' I've got to obey mine.” + </p> + <p> + Edith now began to feel discouraged. Yet there was one resource left, and + this she now tried. Drawing forth her purse, she took out some pieces of + gold. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said she, “you do very well to obey orders in ordinary cases; but + in my case you are violating the law, and exposing yourself to punishment. + Now I will pay you well if you do me this little service, and will give + you this now, and much more afterward. Here, take this, and let me out + quick.” + </p> + <p> + The porter kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and did not even look at the + gold. “See!” said Edith, excitedly and hurriedly—“see!” + </p> + <p> + The porter would not look. But at last he spoke, and then came the old + monotonous sentence, + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' your pardon, miss, an' hopin' there's no offense, I can't do it. + I've got to obey orders, miss.” + </p> + <p> + At this Edith gave up the effort, and turning away, walked slowly and + sadly from the gates. + </p> + <p> + This was certainly more than she had anticipated. By this she saw plainly + that Wiggins was determined to play a bold game. The possibility of such + restraint as this had never entered into her mind. Now she recalled Miss + Plympton's fears, and regretted when too late that she had trusted herself + within these gates. And now what the porter had told her showed her in one + instant the full depth of his design. He evidently intended to keep her + away from all communication with the outside world. And she—what + could she do? How could she let Miss Plympton know? How could she get out? + No doubt Wiggins would contrive to keep all avenues of escape closed to + her as this one was. Even the walls would be watched, so that she should + not clamber over. + </p> + <p> + Among the most disheartening of her discoveries was the incorruptible + fidelity of the servants of Wiggins. Twice already had she tried to bribe + them, but on each occasion she had failed utterly. The black servant and + the porter were each alike beyond the reach of her gold. + </p> + <p> + Her mind was now agitated and distressed. In her excitement she could not + yet return to the Hall, but still hoped that she might escape, though the + hope was growing faint indeed. She felt humiliated by the defeat of her + attempts upon the honesty of the servants. She was troubled by the thought + of her isolation, and did not know what might be best to do. + </p> + <p> + One thing now seemed evident, and this was that she had a better chance of + escaping at this time than she would have afterward. If she was to be + watched, the outlook could not yet be as perfect or as well organized as + it would afterward be. And among the ways of escape she could think of + nothing else than the wall. That wall, she thought, must certainly afford + some places which she might scale. She might find some gate in a remote + place which could afford egress. To this she now determined to devote + herself. + </p> + <p> + With this purpose on her mind, she sought to find her way through the + trees to the wall. This she was able to do without much difficulty, for + though the trees grew thick, there was no underbrush, but she was able to + walk along without any very great trouble. Penetrating in this way through + the trees, she at length came to the wall. But, to her great + disappointment, she found its height here quite as great as it had been + near the gate, and though in one or two places trees grew up which threw + their branches out over it, yet those trees were altogether inaccessible + to her. + </p> + <p> + Still she would not give up too quickly, but followed the wall for a long + distance. The further she went, however, the more hopeless did her search + seem to grow. The ground was unequal, sometimes rising into hills, and at + other times sinking into valleys; but in all places, whether hill or + valley, the wall arose high, formidable, not to be scaled by one like her. + As she looked at it the thought came to her that it had been arranged for + that very purpose, so that it should not be easily climbed, and so it was + not surprising that a barrier which might baffle the active poacher or + trespasser should prove insuperable to a slender girl like her. + </p> + <p> + She wandered on, however, in spite of discouragement, in the hope of + finding a gate. But this search was as vain as the other. After walking + for hours, till her feeble limbs could scarcely support her any longer, + she sank down exhausted, and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she wept, overwhelmed by accumulated sorrow and + despondency and disappointment. At length she roused herself, and drying + her eyes, looked up and began to think of returning to the Hall. + </p> + <p> + To her amazement she saw the black servant, Hugo, standing not far away. + As she raised her eyes he took off his cap, and grinned as usual. The + sight of him gave Edith a great shock, and excited new suspicions and + fears within her. + </p> + <p> + Had she been followed? + </p> + <p> + She must have been. She had been watched and tracked. All her desperate + efforts had been noted down to be reported to Wiggins—all her long + and fruitless search, her baffled endeavors, her frustrated hopes! + </p> + <p> + It was too much. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — A PARLEY WITH THE JAILERS. + </h2> + <p> + Coming as it did close upon her baffled efforts to escape, this discovery + of Hugo proclaimed to Edith at once most unmistakably the fact that she + was a prisoner. She was walled in. She was under guard and under + surveillance. She could not escape without the consent of Wiggins, nor + could she move about without being tracked by the spy of Wiggins. It was + evident also that both the porter and the black servant Hugo were devoted + to their master, and were beyond the reach both of persuasion and of + bribery. + </p> + <p> + The discovery for a moment almost overwhelmed her once more; but the + presence of another forced her to put a restraint upon her feelings. She + tried to look unconcerned, and turning away her eyes, she sat in the same + position for some time longer. But beneath the calm which her pride forced + her to assume her heart throbbed painfully, and her thoughts dwelt with + something almost like despair upon her present situation. + </p> + <p> + But Edith had a strong and resolute soul in spite of her slender and + fragile frame; she had also an elastic disposition, which rose up swiftly + from any prostration, and refused to be cast down utterly. So now this + strength of her nature asserted itself; and triumphing over her momentary + weakness, she resolved to go at once and see Wiggins himself. With these + subordinates she had nothing to do. Her business was with Wiggins, and + with Wiggins alone. + </p> + <p> + Yet the thought of an interview had something in it which was strangely + repugnant to Edith. The aspect of her two jailers seemed to her to be + repellent in the extreme. That white old man, with the solemn mystery of + his eyes, that weird old woman, with her keen, vigilant outlook—these + were the ones who now held her in restraint, and with these she had to + come in conflict. In both of them there seemed something uncanny, and + Edith could not help feeling that in the lives of both of these there was + some mystery that passed her comprehension. + </p> + <p> + Still, uncanny or not, whatever might be the mystery of her jailers, they + remained her jailers and nothing less. It was against this thought that + the proud soul of Edith chafed and fretted. It was a thought which was + intolerable. It roused her to the intensest indignation. She was the lady + of Dalton Hall; these who thus dared to restrain her were her + subordinates. This Wiggins was not only her inferior, but he had been the + enemy of her life. Could she submit to fresh indignities or wrongs at the + hands of one who had already done so much evil to her and hers? She could + not. + </p> + <p> + That white old man with his mystery, his awful eyes, his venerable face, + his unfathomable expression, and the weird old woman, his associate, with + her indescribable look and her air of watchfulness, were both partners in + this crime of unlawful imprisonment. They dared to put restrictions upon + the movements of their mistress, the lady of Dalton Hall. Such an attempt + could only be the sign of a desperate mind, and the villainy of their plan + was of itself enough to sink them deep in Edith's thoughts down to an + abyss of contempt and indignation. This indignation roused her, and her + eagerness to see Miss Plympton impelled her to action. Animated by such + feelings and motives, she delayed no longer, but at once returned to the + Hall to see Wiggins himself. + </p> + <p> + On her way back she was conscious of the fact that Hugo was following; but + she took no notice of it, as it was but the sequel to the preceding events + of the day. She entered the Hall, and finding Mrs. Dunbar, told her to + tell Wiggins that she wished to see him. After this she went down to the + dreary drawing-room, where she awaited the coming of her jailer. + </p> + <p> + The room was unchanged from what it had been on the preceding day. By this + time also Edith had noticed that there were no servants about except Hugo. + The drear desolation of the vast Hall seemed drearier from the few inmates + who dwelt there, and the solitude of the place made it still more + intolerable. + </p> + <p> + After some time Wiggins made his appearance. He came in slowly, with his + eyes fixed upon Edith, and the same expression upon his face which she had + noticed before. A most singular man he was, whoever or whatever he might + be. That hoary head and that venerable face might have awed her under + other circumstances, and the unfathomable mystery of its expression might + have awakened intense interest and sympathy; but as it was, Edith had no + place for any other feelings than suspicion, indignation, and scorn. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by this treatment?” said Edith, abruptly. “It seems as + though you are trying to imprison me. I have told you that I wish to call + on Miss Plympton. I can not get a carriage, and I am not allowed to leave + this place on foot. You are responsible for this, and I tell you now that + I must go, and at once.” + </p> + <p> + At this peremptory address Wiggins stood looking at her with his usual + expression, and for some moments made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know,” said he at length, in a slow and hesitating voice, “that + you wished to leave so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But I told you so. You drove away Miss Plympton yesterday from my gates. + I promised to call on her this morning. She is anxiously expecting me. I + must go to her.” Wiggins again waited for a few moments before replying, + and at length said, in an abstracted tone: + </p> + <p> + “No, no; it can not be—it can not be!” + </p> + <p> + “Can not be!” repeated Edith. “It seems to me that you are trying to carry + out a most extraordinary course of action toward me. This looks like + restraint or imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her with an expression of earnest entreaty on his face, + with which there was also mingled an air of indescribable sadness. + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary,” said he, in a mournful voice. “Can you not bring + yourself to bear with it? You do not know what is at stake. Some day all + will be explained.” + </p> + <p> + “This is silly,” exclaimed Edith. “No explanation is possible. I insist on + leaving this place at once. If you refuse to let me go, it will be worse + for you than for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what you ask,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you,” said Edith, sternly and proudly, “to open those gates to your + mistress.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you to open those gates,” continued Edith. “If you let me go now, I + promise not to prosecute you—at least for this. I will forget to-day + and yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, she looked at him inquiringly. But Wiggins shook his head as + before. “It can not be,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You decide, then, to refuse my demand?” said Edith, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I must,” said Wiggins, with a heavy sigh. “It is necessary. All is at + stake. You do not know what you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is evident to me,” said Edith, mastering herself by a strong effort, + “that you are playing a desperate game, but at the same time you are + trusting much to chance. Why did you wish me to come here? It was by the + merest chance that I decided to come. It was also by another chance that I + entered those gates which you now shut against my departure. Few would + have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your presence seemed necessary to my plans,” said Wiggins, slowly. “What + those plans are I can not yet confide to you. You are concerned in them as + much as I am. Opposition will be of no avail, and will only injure you. + But I hope you will not try to oppose me. I entreat you to bear with me. I + entreat you to try to put a little confidence in me. I was your father's + friend; and I now implore you, that daughter whom he loved so dearly, for + your father's sake—yes, and for the sake of your sainted mother—not + to—” + </p> + <p> + “This is mere hypocrisy,” interrupted Edith. “My father was one with whom + one like you can have nothing in common. You add to your crimes by this + treatment of his daughter. What you have already been guilty of toward him + you alone know. If you hope for mercy hereafter, do not add to your + guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Guilt!” cried Wiggins, in an awful voice. He started back, and regarded + her with eyes of utter horror. “Guilt!” he repeated, in a voice so low + that it was scarcely above a whisper—“and she says that word!” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked at him with unchanged severity. + </p> + <p> + “You made a great mistake,” said she, coldly and sternly, “when you drove + Miss Plympton away. If you hope to keep me imprisoned here, you will only + destroy yourself. I have a friend who knows you, and who will know before + evening that I am here under restraint. She will never rest until she + effects my deliverance. Have you counted on that?” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins listened attentively, as usual, to every word. The effort seemed + to give him pain, and the suggestion of her friend was undoubtedly most + unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not,” said he. He spoke as though to himself. The candor of + this confession stimulated Edith to dwell to a greater extent upon this + subject. + </p> + <p> + “She was not willing for me to come in,” said she. “She wished me not to + enter without a lawyer or the sheriff. If she finds that I am detained, + she will enter here in that way herself. She will deliver me in spite of + you. If she does not see me to-day, she will at once use every effort to + come to me. Your porters and your spies will be of no use against the + officers of the law.” + </p> + <p> + At this Wiggins looked at the floor, and was evidently in a state of + perplexity. He stood in silence for some time, and Edith waited + impatiently for his answer, so as to learn what effect these last hints + had produced. At length Wiggins looked up. He spoke slowly and mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” said he. “I hope it will not come to that. I'm afraid + that I shall have to take you elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + These words fell upon Edith's ears ominously and threateningly. They + conveyed to her mind a menace dark and gloomy, and showed the full + determination of Wiggins to maintain at all hazards the control that he + had gained over her. Edith therefore was silent, and apprehensive of evil. + She was afraid that she had said too much. It might have been better not + to threaten, or to show her hand prematurely. It might be the best plan to + wait in silence and in patience for Miss Plympton. Wiggins was desperate. + He might take her away, as he darkly hinted, from this place to some other + where Miss Plympton could never find her. + </p> + <p> + She stood for some time in silence, with her mind full of such thoughts as + these. Wiggins waited for a few moments, and then turned and slowly left + the room. Edith said nothing, and made no effort to recall him, for she + now felt that her situation was growing serious, and that it would be + better for her to think it all over seriously, and not speak to Wiggins + again until she had decided upon some definite plan of action. She + therefore allowed him to take his departure, and soon afterward she went + to her own room, where she remained for hours in deep thought. + </p> + <p> + At length Mrs. Dunbar brought in dinner. After laying the table she stood + for a few moments in silence looking at Edith; but at length, yielding to + some sudden impulse she came forward, and as Edith looked up in surprise, + she exclaimed, with startling abruptness, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how unfortunate! and oh, what a wretched mistake you are under! If + you had not come home so suddenly, all might have been well. We hoped that + you would be content and patient. Mr. Wiggins has plans of immense + importance; they require great quiet and seclusion. Oh, if you could only + have some faith in us!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped as abruptly as she had begun. This style of address from a + housekeeper seemed to Edith to be altogether too familiar, and she + resented it deeply. Besides, the identification of herself with Wiggins + put Mrs. Dunbar in an odious position in Edith's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins's plans are of no consequence to me whatever,” said she, + coldly. + </p> + <p> + “They are; they are of immense importance,” cried Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + Edith looked at her for a few moments with a cold stare of wonder, for + this volunteered advice seemed something like insolence, coming thus from + a subordinate. But she contented herself with answering in a quiet tone: + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. Nothing is of importance to me but my liberty. It will + be very dangerous to deprive me of that. My friends will never allow it. + In Wiggins this attempt to put me under restraint is nothing less than + desperation. Think yourself how frantic he must be to hope to be able to + confine me here, when I have friends outside who will move heaven and + earth to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + At this a look of uneasiness came over Mrs. Dunbar's face. It seemed to + Edith that this hint at friends without was the only thing that in any way + affected either of her jailers. + </p> + <p> + “The punishment for such a crime as unlawful imprisonment,” continued + Edith, “is a severe one. If Wiggins has ever committed any crimes before, + this will only aggravate his guilt, and make his punishment the worse.” + </p> + <p> + At this Mrs. Dunbar stared at Edith with the same horror in her eyes which + Wiggins had lately shown. + </p> + <p> + “Crime?” she repeated. “Guilt? Punishment? Oh, Heavens! Has it come to + this? This is terrible. Girl,” she continued, with a frown, “you don't + know the dreadful nature of those words. You are a marplot. You have come + home to ruin every thing. But I thought so,” she murmured to herself. “I + told him so. I said it would be ruin, but he would have his way. And now—” + The remainder of her remarks was inaudible. Suddenly her manner changed. + Her anger gave way once more to entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “can nothing persuade you that we are your friends? Trust + us—oh, trust us! You will soon learn how we love you. He only thinks + of you. You are the final aim of all his plans.” + </p> + <p> + Edith gave a light laugh. That she was the final aim of Wiggins's plans + she did not doubt. She saw now that plan clearly, as she thought. It was + to gain control of her for purposes of his own in connection with the + estate. Under such circumstances Mrs. Dunbar's entreaties seemed silly, + and to make any answer was absurd. She turned away and sat down at the + table. As for Mrs. Dunbar, she left the room. + </p> + <p> + Night came. Edith did not sleep; she could not. The day had been the most + eventful one of her life. The thought that she was a prisoner was + terrible. She could only sustain herself by the hope that Miss Plympton + would save her. But this hope was confronted by a dark fear which greatly + distressed her. It might take time for Miss Plympton to do any thing + toward releasing her. She knew that the law worked slowly: she did not + feel at all certain that it worked surely. Her father's fate rose before + her as a warning of the law's uncertainty and injustice. Could she hope to + be more fortunate than he had been? Wiggins had passed his life in the + study of the law, and knew how to work it for his own private ends. He had + once succeeded in his dark plot against her father. Might not his present + “plan,” about which he and his associate talked, be equally successful? + Mrs. Dunbar had called her a “marplot.” To mar the plot of this man, and + avenge upon him the wrongs of her father, would be sweet indeed; but could + it be possible for her to do it? That was the question. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “CRIME! GUILT!”} + </p> + <p> + The next morning came, and Edith rose full of a new purpose. She thought + of her efforts on the preceding day, and concluded that she had made one + great mistake. She saw now that Miss Plympton had most probably called, + and had not been admitted. If she had only remained by the gate, she could + have seen her friend, and told her all. That she had not thought of this + before was now a matter of the deepest regret, and she could only hope + that it might not yet be too late. She determined to go to the gates at + once and watch. + </p> + <p> + She therefore hurried down to the gates as soon as she could. No efforts + were made to prevent her. She had feared that she might be locked up in + the Hall; but, to her surprise and relief, she was not. Such forbearance + made her situation still more perplexing. It was evident that Wiggins + hesitated about proceeding to extremities with her, and did not venture as + yet to exercise more than a general restraint. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the gate, Edith sat down close by it on a seat in front of the + porter's lodge, and waited and watched. The gates were of iron bars, so + that it was easy to see through them, and the road ran in front. The road + was not much frequented, however. An occasional farmer's wagon or solitary + pedestrian formed the only life that was visible outside. The porter + watched her for some time in surprise, but said nothing. Hugo came up + after about half an hour and talked with the porter, after which he + loitered about within sight of Edith. Of all this, however, Edith took no + notice whatever; it was what she expected. + </p> + <p> + The hours of the day passed by, but there were no signs of Miss Plympton. + As hour after hour passed, Edith's hopes grew fainter and fainter. She + longed to ask the porter whether she had called or not, but could not + bring herself to do so—first, because she did not like to destroy + all hope; and secondly, because she did not wish to hold any further + communication with him. + </p> + <p> + She sat there all day long. Miss Plympton did not come. The hours passed + by. Evening came. She bad eaten nothing all day. She was faint and weary, + and almost in despair. But to wait longer was useless now; so she rose + from her seat, and with feeble footsteps returned to the house. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning she returned to the gates to take up her station as + before and watch. She did not hope to see Miss Plympton now; for she + concluded that she had called already, had been turned back, and was now + perhaps engaged in arranging for her rescue. But Edith could not wait for + that. She determined to do something herself. She resolved to accost all + passers-by and tell them her situation. In this way she thought she might + excite the world outside, and lead to some interposition in her behalf. + </p> + <p> + Full of this purpose, she went down to the gates. As she drew near, the + first sight of them sent a feeling of dismay to her heart. A change had + taken place. Something had been done during the night. + </p> + <p> + She drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments she saw it all. + </p> + <p> + The gates had been boarded up during the night so that it was impossible + to see the road. + </p> + <p> + One look was enough. This last hope was destroyed. There was nothing to be + done here; and so, sick at heart, Edith turned back toward the Hall. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — MISS PLYMPTON BAFFLED. + </h2> + <p> + Meanwhile Miss Plympton had been undergoing various phases of feeling, + alternating between anxiety and hope, and terminating in a resolution + which brought forth important results. On the departure of Edith she had + watched her till her carriage was out of sight, and then sadly and + reluctantly had given orders to drive back to Dalton. On arriving there + she put up at the inn, and though full of anxiety, she tried to wait as + patiently as possible for the following day. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to move among the great, and to regard them with a certain + reverence that pervades the middle classes in England, she tried first of + all to prevent any village gossip about Edith, and so she endeavored, by + warning and by bribery, to induce the maid, the footman, and the driver to + say nothing about the scene at the gates. Another day, she hoped, would + make it all right, and idle gossip should, never be allowed to meddle with + the name of Edith in any way. + </p> + <p> + That evening Edith's note was brought to her. On receiving it she read it + hurriedly, and then went down to see who had brought it. She saw the + porter, who told her that he had come for Miss Dalton's baggage. The + porter treated her with an effort to be respectful, which appeared to Miss + Plympton to be a good omen. She offered him a piece of gold to propitiate + him still further, but, to her amazement, it was declined. + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye kindly, mum,” said he, touching his hat, “an' hope it's no + offense; but we beant allowed to take nothin' savin' an' except what he + gives us hisself.” + </p> + <p> + A moment's surprise was succeeded by the thought that even this was of + good omen, since it seemed to indicate a sort of rough, bluff, sterling + honesty, which could not co-exist with a nature that was altogether bad. + </p> + <p> + Returning to her room, she once more read Edith's note. Its tone + encouraged her greatly. It seemed to show that all her fears had been + vain, and that, whatever the character of Wiggins might be, there could be + no immediate danger to Edith. So great, indeed, was the encouragement + which she received from this note that she began to think her fears + foolish, and to believe that in England no possible harm could befall one + in Edith's position. It was with such thoughts, and the hope of seeing + Edith on the following day, that she retired for the night. + </p> + <p> + Her sleep was refreshing, and she did not awake till it was quite late. On + awaking and finding what time it was, she rose and dressed hastily. + Breakfast was served, and she began to look out for Edith. + </p> + <p> + Time passed, however, and Edith did not make her appearance. Miss Plympton + tried to account for the delay in every possible way, and consoled herself + as long as she could by the thought that she had been very much fatigued; + and had not risen until very late. But the hours passed, and at length + noon came without bringing any signs of her, and Miss Plympton was unable + any longer to repress her uneasiness. This inaction grew intolerable, and + she determined to set forth and see for herself. Accordingly she had the + carriage made ready, and in a short time reached the park gate. + </p> + <p> + She had to ring for a long time before any one appeared; but at length, + after fully an hour's delay, the porter came. He touched his hat on seeing + her, but stood on the other side of the iron gateway without opening it. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Dalton at the Hall?” asked Miss Plympton. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg yer pardon, mum, but there be no callers allowed in.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's different with me. Miss Dalton wrote that she would come to see + me this morning, and I'm afraid she's ill, so I have come to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “She beant ill, then,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton reflected that it was of no use to talk to this man, and + thought of Wiggins himself. + </p> + <p> + “Is your master in?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I wish to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' yer pardon, mum, he never sees nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to see him on business of a very important kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't help it, mum—beggin' yer pardon; but I've got to obey orders, + mum.” + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow, can't you take my message, or let me in to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, mum, but I can't; I've got my orders.” + </p> + <p> + “But he can't know. This business is so important that it will be very bad + for him if he does not see me now. Tell him that. Go, now; you can't know + what his business is. Tell him that—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mum, if you insist, I don't mind goin',” said the porter. “I'll + tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “Say that I wish to see him at once, and that the business I have is of + the utmost importance.” + </p> + <p> + The porter touched his hat, and walked off. + </p> + <p> + Now followed another period of waiting. It was fully half an hour before + he returned. Miss Plympton saw that he was alone, and her heart sank + within her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum,” said he, “and says he's sorry he + can't see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him that my business was of the most important kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “And he refuses to come?” + </p> + <p> + “He says he's sorry he can't see you, mum.” + </p> + <p> + At this Miss Plympton was silent for a little while. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said she at last, “my good fellow, if I could only see him, and + mention one or two things, he would be very glad. It will be very much to + his injury if he does not see me. You appear to be a faithful servant, and + to care for your master's interests, so do you let me pass through, and + I'll engage to keep you from all harm or punishment of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, mum, to refuse; but orders is orders, mum,” said the man, + stolidly. + </p> + <p> + “If I am not allowed to go in,” said Miss Plympton, “surely Miss Dalton + will come here to see me—here at the gates.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you go and tell her that I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to refuse, mum; but it's agin orders. No callers allowed, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “But Miss Dalton can come as far as the gates.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked puzzled, and then muttered, + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins's orders, mum, is to have no communication.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Miss Plympton; “so she is shut up here.” + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' your pardon, mum, she beant shut up at all nowheres: she goes + about.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why can't I see her here?” + </p> + <p> + “Agin orders, mum.” + </p> + <p> + By this Miss Plympton understood the worst, and fully believed that Edith + was under strict restraint. + </p> + <p> + “My good man,” said she, solemnly, “you and your master are committing a + great crime in daring to keep any one here in imprisonment, especially the + one who owns these estates. I warn him now to beware, for Miss Dalton has + powerful friends. As to you, you may not know that you are breaking the + law now, and are liable to transportation for life. Come, don't break the + laws and incur such danger. If I choose I can bring here to-morrow the + officers of the law, release Miss Dalton, and have you and your master + arrested.” + </p> + <p> + At this the man looked troubled. He scratched his head, drew a long + breath, and looked at the ground with a frown. + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton, seeing that this shot had told, followed it up. + </p> + <p> + “Refuse me admittance,” said she, “and I will bring back those who will + come here in the name of the law; but if you let me in, I promise to say + nothing about this matter.” + </p> + <p> + The porter now seemed to have recovered himself. He raised his head, and + the old monotonous reply came: + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton made one further attempt. She drew forth her purse, and + displayed its contents. + </p> + <p> + “See,” said she, “you will be doing a kindness to your master, and you + shall have all this.” + </p> + <p> + But the man did not look at the purse at all. His eyes were fixed on Miss + Plympton, and he merely replied as before: + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Miss Plympton. “There is only one thing left for me to + do. I wish you to take one final message from me to your master. Tell him + this: It is my intention to procure help for Miss Dalton at once. Tell him + that her uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh, is now in England, and that this very + day I shall set out for Dudleigh Manor, I shall tell Sir Lionel how his + niece is situated, and bring him here. He will come with his own claims + and the officers of the law. Wiggins shall be arrested, together with all + who have aided and abetted him. If he refuses to admit me now, I shall + quit this place and go at once without delay. Go, now, and make haste, for + this matter is of too great importance to be decided by you.” + </p> + <p> + The porter seemed to think so too, for, touching his hat, he at once + withdrew. This time he was gone longer than before, and Miss Plympton + waited for his return with great impatience. At length he came back. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum,” said the man, “and says he is + not breakin' any law at all, and that if you choose to go for Sir Lionel, + he is willin' to have you do so. He says if you fetch Sir Lionel here he + will let both of you in. He says he'll be very happy indeed to see Sir + Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + This singular way of taking what was meant to be a most formidable threat + took away Miss Plympton's last hope, and reduced her to a state of + dejection and bewilderment; for when, she sent that threatening message, + it was not because she had really any fixed design of carrying it into + execution, but rather because the name of Sir Lionel Dudleigh seemed to + her to be one which might overawe the mind of Wiggins. She thought that by + reminding Wiggins of the existence of this powerful relative, and by + threatening an instant appeal to him, she would be able to terrify him + into releasing Edith. But his cool answer destroyed this hope. She felt + puzzled at his assertion that he was not breaking any law, when he himself + must know well that such a thing as the imprisonment of a free subject is + a crime of the most serious character; but she felt even more puzzled at + his reference to Sir Lionel. Her own connection and association with the + aristocracy had never destroyed that deep unswerving reverence for them + with which she had set out in life; and to find Wiggins treating the + mention of Sir Lionel with such cool indifference was to her an + incomprehensible thing. But there was nothing more for her to do at this + place, and feeling the necessity of immediate action, she at once drove + back to the inn. + </p> + <p> + Arriving here, she hoped that her prompt departure might frighten Wiggins, + and lead to a change in his decision, and she concluded to remain that + evening and that night, so as to give him time for repentance. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was left now but to devise some plan of action. First of all, she + made inquiries of the landlord about Wiggins. That personage could tell + her very little about him. According to him, Mr. Wiggins was a lawyer from + Liverpool, who had been intrusted with the management of the Dalton estate + for the past ten years. He was a very quiet man, devoted to his business, + and until latterly had never been at Dalton oftener or longer than was + absolutely necessary. Of late, however, he had been living here for some + months, and it was believed that he intended to stay here the greater part + of his time. + </p> + <p> + This was all that Miss Plympton was able to learn about Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — SIR LIONEL DUDLEIGH. + </h2> + <p> + Although Miss Plympton had indulged the hope that Wiggins might relent, + the time passed without bringing any message from him, and every hour as + it passed made a more pressing necessity for her to decide on some plan. + The more she thought over the matter, the more she thought that her best + plan of action lay in that very threat which she had made to Wiggins. + True, it had been made as a mere threat, but on thinking it over it seemed + the best policy. + </p> + <p> + The only other course lay in action of her own. She might find some lawyer + and get him to interpose. But this involved a responsibility on her part + from which she shrank so long as there was any other who had a better + right to incur such responsibility. Now Sir Lionel was Edith's uncle by + marriage; and though there had been trouble between husband and wife, she + yet felt sure that one in Edith's position would excite the sympathy of + every generous heart, and rouse Sir Lionel to action. One thing might, + indeed, prevent, and that was the disgrace that had fallen upon the Dalton + name. This might prevent Sir Lionel from taking any part; but Miss + Plympton was sanguine, and hoped that Sir Lionel's opinion of the + condemned man might be like her own, in which case he would be willing, + nay, eager, to save the daughter. + </p> + <p> + The first thing for her to do was to find out where Sir Lionel Dudleigh + lived. About this there was no difficulty. Burke's <i>Peerage and + Baronetage</i> is a book which in most English homes lies beside the Bible + in the most honored place, and this inn, humble though it might be, was + not without a copy of this great Bible of society. This Miss Plympton + procured, and at once set herself to the study of its pages. It was not + without a feeling of self-abasement that she did this, for she prided + herself upon her extensive knowledge of the aristocracy, but here she was + deplorably ignorant. She comforted herself, however, by the thought that + her ignorance was the fault of Sir Lionel, who had lived a somewhat quiet + life, and had never thrust very much of his personality before the world, + and no one but Sir Bernard Burke could be expected to find out his abode. + That great authority, of course, gave her all the information that she + wanted, and she found that Dudleigh Manor was situated not very far + distant from Cheltenham. This would require a detour which would involve + time and trouble; but, under the circumstances, she would have been + willing to do far more, even though Plympton Terrace should be without its + tutelary genius in the mean time. + </p> + <p> + On the next morning Miss Plympton left Dalton on her way to Dudleigh + Manor. She was still full of anxiety about Edith, but the thought that she + was doing something, and the sanguine anticipations in which she indulged + with reference to Sir Lionel, did much to lessen her cares. In due time + she reached her destination, and after a drive from the station at which + she got out, of a mile or two, she found herself within Sir Lionel's + grounds. These were extensive and well kept, while the manor-house itself + was one of the noblest of its class. + </p> + <p> + After she had waited for some time in an elegant drawing-room a servant + came with Sir Lionel's apologies for not coming to see her, on account of + a severe attack of gout, and asking her to come up stairs to the library. + Miss Plympton followed the servant to that quarter, and soon found herself + in Sir Lionel's presence. + </p> + <p> + He was seated in an arm-chair, with his right foot wrapped in flannels and + resting upon a stool in front of him, in orthodox gout style. He was a man + apparently of about fifty years of age, in a state of excellent + preservation. His head was partially bald, his brow smooth, his cheeks + rounded and a little florid, with whiskers on each side of his face, and + smooth-shaven chin. There was a pleasant smile on his face, which seemed + natural to that smooth and rosy countenance; and this, together with a + general tendency to corpulency, which was rather becoming to the man, and + the gouty foot, all served to suggest high living and self-indulgence. + </p> + <p> + “I really feel ashamed of myself, Miss—ah—Plympton,” said Sir + Lionel, “for giving you so much trouble; but gout, you know, my dear + madam, is not to be trifled with; and I assure you if it had been any one + else I should have declined seeing them. But of course I could not refuse + to see you, and the only way I could have that pleasure was by begging you + to come here. The mountain could not come to Mohammed, and so Mohammed, + you know—eh? Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + The baronet had a cheery voice, rich and mellow, and his laugh was ringing + and musical. His courtesy, his pleasant smile, his genial air, and his + hearty voice and laugh, all filled Miss Plympton with sincere delight, and + she felt that this man could do nothing else than take up Edith's cause + with the utmost ardor. + </p> + <p> + After a few apologies for troubling him, which Sir Lionel turned aside by + protesting that apologies were only due from himself to her, Miss Plympton + began to state the object of her visit. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, Sir Lionel,” said she, “I take it for granted that + you have heard of the death of Frederick Dalton, Esquire, in Van Diemen's + Land.” + </p> + <p> + The smile on the baronet's face died out at this, and his eyes fixed + themselves upon Miss Plympton's face with quick and eager curiosity. Then + he turned his face aside. A table stood on his right, with some wine and + glasses within reach. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said he; “I beg ten thousand pardons; but <i>won't</i> you + take a glass of wine? No!” he continued, as Miss Plympton politely + declined; “really I think you had better.” And then, pouring out a glass, + he sipped it, and looked at her once more. “Poor Dalton!” said he, with a + sigh. “Yes, of course, I saw it in the papers. A most melancholy affair. + Poor Dalton! Let me inform you, madam, that he was more sinned against + than sinning.” Sir Lionel sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Lionel,” exclaimed Miss Plympton, earnestly, “how it rejoices my + heart to hear you say that! For my part, I never, never had one single + doubt of his perfect innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor had I,” said Sir Lionel, firmly, pouring out another glass of wine. + “It was excessively unfortunate. Had I not myself been in—in—ah—affliction + at the time, I might have done something to help him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Lionel, I'm sure you would!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” said Sir Lionel; “but domestic circumstances to which I am + not at liberty to allude, of a painful character, put it out of my power + to—to—ah—to interpose. I was away when the arrest took + place, and when I returned it was too late.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have understood,” said Miss Plympton; “and it is because I have felt + so sure of your goodness of heart that I have come now on this visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that you will give me the chance of showing you that your + confidence in me is well founded,” said Sir Lionel, cordially. + </p> + <p> + “You may have heard, Sir Lionel,” began Miss Plympton, “that about the + time of the trial Mrs. Dalton died. She died of a broken heart. It was + very, very sudden.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + “She thought enough of me to consider me her friend; and as she did not + think her own relatives had shown her sufficient sympathy, she intrusted + her child to me when dying. I have had that child ever since. She is now + eighteen, and of age.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl! God bless my soul!” said Sir Lionel, thoughtfully. “And does she + know about this—this—melancholy business?” + </p> + <p> + “I deemed it my duty to tell her, Sir Lionel,” said Miss Plympton, + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that. I don't—know—about—that,” said + Sir Lionel, pursing up his lips and frowning. “Best wait a while; but too + late now, and the mischief's done. Well, and how did she take it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobly, Sir Lionel. At first she was quite crushed, but afterward rallied + under it. But she could not remain with me any longer, and insisted on + going home—as she called it—to Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Dalton Hall! Yes—well? Poor girl! poor little girl!—an + orphan. Dalton Hall! Well?” + </p> + <p> + “And now I come to the real purpose of my visit,” said Miss Plympton; and + thereupon she went on to give him a minute and detailed account of their + arrival at Dalton and the reception there, together with the subsequent + events. + </p> + <p> + To all this Sir Lionel listened without one word of any kind, and at + length Miss Plympton ended. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam,” said he, “it may surprise you that I have not made any + comments on your astonishing story. If it had been less serious I might + have done so. I might even have indulged in profane language—a + habit, madam, which, I am sorry to say, I have acquired from not + frequenting more the society of ladies. But this business, madam, is + beyond comment, and I can only say that I rejoice and feel grateful that + you decided as you did, and have come at once to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad, and such a load is taken off my mind!” exclaimed Miss + Plympton, fervently. + </p> + <p> + “Why, madam, I am utterly astounded at this man's audacity,” cried Sir + Lionel—“utterly astounded! To think that any man should ever venture + upon such a course! It's positively almost inconceivable. And so you tell + me that she is there now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Under the lock and key, so to speak, of this fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And she isn't allowed even to go to the gate?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “The man's mad,” cried Sir Lionel—“mad, raving mad. Did you see + him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He wouldn't consent to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I tell you, he's a madman,” said Sir Lionel. “He must be. No sane + man could think of such a thing. Why, this is England, and the nineteenth + century. The days of private imprisonment are over. He's mad! The man's + mad!” + </p> + <p> + “But what is to be done, Sir Lionel?” asked Miss Plympton, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Done!” cried Sir Lionel—“every thing! First, we must get Miss + Dalton out of that rascal's clutches; then we, must hand that fellow and + his confederates over to the law. And if it don't end in Botany Bay and + hard labor for life, then there's no law in the land. Why, who is he? A + pettifogger—a miserable low-born, low-bred, Liverpool pettifogger!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Know him, madam! I know all about him—that is, as much as I want to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything about the relations that formerly existed between + him and Mr. Frederick Dalton?” + </p> + <p> + “Relations!” said Sir Lionel, pouring out another glass of wine—“relations, + madam—that is—ah—to say—ah—business + relations, madam? Well, they were those of patron and client, I believe—nothing + more. I believe that this Wiggins was one to whom poor Dalton behaved very + kindly—made him what he is, in fact—and this is his reward! A + pettifogger, by Heaven!—a pettifogger! Seizing the Dalton estates, + the scoundrel, and then putting Miss Dalton under lock and key! Why, the + man's mad—mad! yes, a raving maniac! He is, by Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “And now, Sir Lionel, when shall we be able to effect her release!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it all to me. Leave it all to me, madam. This infernal gout of mine + ties me up, but I'll take measures this very day; I'll send off to Dalton + an agent that will free Miss Dalton and bring her here. Leave it to me. If + I don't go, I'll send—yes, by Heaven, I'll send my son. But give + yourself no trouble, madam. Miss Dalton is as good as free at this moment, + and Wiggins is as good as in jail.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Plympton now asked Sir Lionel if he knew what Wiggins meant by his + answer to her threat, and she repeated the message. Sir Lionel listened + with compressed lips and a frowning brow. After Miss Plympton had told it + he sat for some minutes in silent thought. + </p> + <p> + “So that is what he said, is it!” exclaimed Sir Lionel at last. “Well, + madam, we shall see about that. But don't give yourself a moment's + uneasiness. I take the matter in hand from this moment. The insolence of + this fellow, Wiggins, is unparalleled, madam; but be assured all this + shall surely recoil on his own head with terrible effect.” + </p> + <p> + Some further conversation followed to the same effect, and at length Miss + Plympton took her leave, full of hope and without a care. Sir Lionel had + hinted that she was not needed any more in the matter; and as she felt a + natural delicacy about obtruding her services, she decided to go back to + Plympton Terrace and wait. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, Miss Plympton, on leaving Dudleigh Manor, went back to + Plympton Terrace. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — LEON + </h2> + <p> + For some time after Miss Plympton's departure Sir Lionel remained buried + in thought. At length he rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + A servant appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Is Captain Dudleigh here yet?” asked Sir Lionel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that I want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + The servant departed, and in a short time the door opened and a young man + entered. He was tall, muscular, well-formed, and with sufficient + resemblance to Sir Lionel to indicate that he was his son. For some time + Sir Lionel took no notice of him, and Captain Dudleigh, throwing himself + in a lounging attitude upon a chair, leaned his head back, and stared at + the ceiling. At length he grew tired of this, and sitting erect, he looked + at Sir Lionel, who was leaning forward, with his elbow on the arm of his + chair, supporting his head in his hand, and evidently quite oblivious of + the presence of any one. + </p> + <p> + “Did you wish to see me, Sir?” said Captain Dudleigh at length. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel started and raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Is that you, Leon? I believe I must have been + asleep. Have you been waiting long? Why didn't you wake me? I sent for + you, didn't I? Oh yes. Let me see. It is a business of the greatest + importance, and I'm deuced glad that you are here, for any delay would be + bad for all concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel paused for a few moments, and then began: + </p> + <p> + “You know about that—that melancholy story of—of poor Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + Leon nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear that he is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, some paragraphs have been going the rounds of the papers to that + effect, though why they should drag the poor devil from his seclusion, + even to announce his death, is somewhat strange to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is dead, poor Dalton!” said Sir Lionel, “and—and so + there's an end of him and that melancholy business. By-the-way, I suppose + you haven't heard any particulars as to his death?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Leon, “nothing beyond the bare fact. Besides, what does it + matter? When a man's dead, under such circumstances, too, no one cares + whether he died of fever or gunshot.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Sir Lionel, with a sigh. “It isn't likely that any one would + trouble himself to find out how poor Dalton died. Well, that is the first + thing that I had to mention. And now there is another thing. You know, of + course, that he left a daughter, who has been growing up all these years, + and is now of age. She has been living under the care of a Miss Plympton, + from whom I had the pleasure of a call this morning, and who appears to be + a remarkably sensible and right-minded person.” + </p> + <p> + “A daughter?” said Leon. “Oh yes! Of course I remember. And of age! Well, + I never thought of that. Why, she must be heiress to the immense Dalton + property. Of age, and still at school! What's her name? I really forget + it, and it's odd too, for, after all, she's my own cousin, in spite of the + short-comings of her father and—and other people.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Leon,” said, Sir Lionel, “you're right. She is your own cousin. As + to her father, you must remember how I have always said that he was + innocent, and sinned against rather than sinning. Heaven forbid that we + should visit on this poor child the disgrace of her father, when he was + not guilty at all. I feel confident, Leon, that you will espouse her cause + as eagerly as I do; and since I am prevented from doing any thing by this + infernal gout, I look to you to represent me in this business, and bring + that infernal scoundrel to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Infernal scoundrel! What infernal scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The madman that is trying to shut up Edith, and keep her under lock + and key.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith! Who's Edith? What, Dalton's daughter? Oh, is that her name? But + what do you mean? What madman? what lock and key?” + </p> + <p> + “You know Wiggins, don't you?” asked Sir Lionel. + </p> + <p> + “Which Wiggins? There are several that I know—Wiggins the sausage + man, Wiggins the rat-catcher, Wig—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean John Wiggins, of John Wiggins and Company, solicitors, Liverpool. + You know them perfectly well. I sent you there once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Leon, slowly, “I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a man was this John Wiggins himself when you saw him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, an ordinary-looking person—grave, quiet, sensible, cool as a + clock, and very reticent. I told you all about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I didn't know but that you might remember something that would + throw light on his present actions. You went there to ask some questions + in my name with reference to poor Dalton, and the disposal of his + property.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and got about as little satisfaction as one could get.” + </p> + <p> + “He was not communicative.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Every answer was an evasion. What little I did get out of him + had to be dragged out. The most important questions he positively refused + to answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I remember all that, for I was the one who wished to know, and + consequently his refusal to answer affected me most of all. I wondered at + the time, and thought that it might be some quiet plan of his, but I + really had no idea of the audacity of his plans.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment. Did you see anything in this man that could excite the + suspicion that he was at all flighty or insane?” + </p> + <p> + “Insane! Certainly not. He was, on the contrary, the sanest person I ever + met with.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he must have become insane since. I've no doubt that he has + for years been planning to get control of the Dalton property; and now, + when he has become insane, he is still animated by this ruling passion, + and has gone to work to gratify it in this mad way.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad way? What mad way? I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you all about it. I merely wished to get your unbiased + opinion of the man first;” and upon this Sir Lionel told him the whole + story which Miss Plympton had narrated to him. To all this Leon listened + with the deepest interest and the most profound astonishment, interrupting + his father by frequent questions and exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “What can be his design?” said Leon. “He must have some plan in his head.” + </p> + <p> + “Plan? a mad plan enough!” exclaimed Sir Lionel. “It is clearly nothing + else than an attempt to get control of the property by a <i>coup de main</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the opinion that I formed of Wiggins is that he is altogether too + shrewd and deep a man to undertake any thing without seeing his way clear + to success!” + </p> + <p> + “The man's mad!” cried Sir Lionel. “How can any sane man hope to succeed + in this? Why, no one can set up a private prison-house in that style. If + the law allowed that, I know of one person who could set up a private + jail, and keep it pretty well filled, too.” + </p> + <p> + “An idea strikes me,” said Leon, “which may explain this on other grounds + than madness, and which is quite in accordance with Wiggins's character. + He has been the agent of the estates for these ten years, and though he + was very close and uncommunicative about the extent of his powers and the + nature of his connection with Dalton, yet it is evident that he has had + Dalton's confidence to the highest degree; and I think that before + Dalton's unfortunate business, he must have had some influence over him. + Perhaps he has persuaded Dalton to make him the guardian of his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what good would that do?” asked Sir Lionel. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any thing about the law of guardianship?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it seems to me, from what I have heard, that a guardian has a great + many very peculiar rights. He stands in a father's place. He can choose + such society for his ward as he likes, and can shut her up, just as a + father might. In this instance Wiggins may be standing on his rights, and + the knowledge of this may be the reason why he defied you so insolently.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel looked annoyed, and was silent for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it,” said he; “I don't believe any thing of the kind. I + don't believe any law will allow a man to exercise such control over + another just because he or she is a minor. Besides, even if it were so, + Edith is of age, and this restraint can not be kept up. What good would it + do, then, for him to imprison her for three or four months? At the end of + that time she must escape from his control. Besides, even on the ground + that he is <i>in loco parentis</i>, you must remember that there are + limits even to a father's authority. I doubt whether even a father would + be allowed to imprison, a daughter without cause.” + </p> + <p> + “But this imprisonment may only be a restriction within the grounds. The + law can not prevent that. Oh, the fact is, this guardianship law is a very + queer thing, and we shall find that Wiggins has as much right over her as + if he were her father. So we must go to work carefully; and my idea is + that it would be best to see him first of all, before we do any thing, so + as to see how it is.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” said Sir Lionel, “we can force him to show by what right he + controls her liberty. The law of guardianship can not override the <i>habeas + corpus</i> act, and the liberty of the subject is provided for, after all. + If we once get Edith out of his control, it will be difficult for him to + get her back again, even if the law did decide in his favor. Still I think + there is a good deal in what you say, and it certainly is best not to be + too hasty about it. An interview with him, first of all, will be decidedly + the best thing. I think, before going there, you had better see my + solicitors in London. You see I intrust the management of this affair to + you, Leon, for this infernal gout ties me up here closer than poor Edith + at Dalton Hall. You had better set about it at once. Go first to London, + see my solicitors, find out about the law of guardianship, and also see + what we had better do. Then, if they approve of it, go to Dalton Hall and + see Wiggins. I don't think that you are the sort of man who can be turned + back at the gates by that ruffian porter. You must also write me what the + solicitors say, for I think I had better keep Miss Plympton informed about + the progress of affairs, partly to satisfy her anxiety, and partly to + present her from taking any independent action which may embarrass our + course of conduct.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — LUCY. + </h2> + <p> + About a week after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, the + train stopped at the little station near Dalton village, and Leon Dudleigh + stepped out. At the same time a woman got out of another carriage in the + train. She was dressed in black, and a crape veil concealed her face. Leon + Dudleigh stood and looked about for a few moments in search of some + vehicle in which to complete his journey, and as the train went on he + walked into the little station-house to make inquiries. The woman followed + slowly. After exchanging a few words with the ticket clerk, Leon found out + that no vehicle was to be had in the neighborhood, and with an exclamation + of impatience he told the clerk that he supposed he would have to walk, + and at the same time asked him some questions about getting his luggage + forwarded to the inn at Dalton. Having received a satisfactory answer, he + turned to the door and walked toward the village. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “AT THAT MOMENT THE WOMAN RAISED HER VEIL."} + </p> + <p> + The woman who had followed him into the station-house had already left it, + and was walking along the road ahead of him. She was walking at a slow + pace, and before long Leon came up with her. He had not noticed her + particularly, and was now about passing her, when at that very moment the + woman raised her veil, and turned about so as to face him. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of her face Leon uttered an exclamation of amazement and + started back. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy!” he exclaimed, in a tone of deep and bitter vexation. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, Leon!” said the woman, with a smile. “You thought you would give me + the slip. You didn't know what a watch I was keeping over you.” + </p> + <p> + At this Leon regarded her in gloomy silence, while the expression of deep + vexation remained unchanged on his face. + </p> + <p> + The woman who had thus followed him was certainly not one who ought to + inspire any thing like vexation. Her face was beautiful in outline and + expression. Her eyes were dark and animated, her tone and manner indicated + good-breeding and refinement, though these were somewhat more vivacious + than is common with English ladies. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what brought <i>you</i> here,” said Leon at last. + </p> + <p> + “I might say the same of you, <i>mon cher</i>,” replied the lady, “but I + have a faint idea, and I have no desire to give you too much liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “It's some more of your confounded jealousy,” said Leon, angrily. “My + business here is a very delicate one indeed. I may have to do it + incognito, and it may ruin all if I have any one here who knows me.” + </p> + <p> + “Incognito?” said the lady. “That will be charming; and if so, who can + help you better than I? I can be your mother, or your grandmother, or your + business partner, or any thing. You ought to have insisted on my + accompanying you.” + </p> + <p> + The light tone of raillery in which this was spoken did not in any way + mollify the chagrin of the other, who still looked at her with a frown, + and as she ended, growled out, + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you got on my track, confound it!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing easier,” said the lady. “You didn't take any pains to hide your + tracks.” + </p> + <p> + “But I told you I was going back to Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did, <i>mon cher</i>; but do you think I believed you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you followed me,” said Leon again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't intend to let you know all my resources,” said the lady, + with a smile, “for fear you will baffle me some other time. But now come, + don't let yourself get into a passion. Look at me, and see how + good-natured and sweet-tempered I am. Your reception of me is really quite + heart-rending, and I have a great mind to go back again at once and leave + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would,” said Leon, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “But I won't,” said the lady. “So come, be yourself again, for you can be + sweet-tempered if you only try hard, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Now see here, Lucy,” said Leon, sternly, “you don't know what you're + doing. It's all very well to pass it off as a frolic, but it won't do. + This business of mine is too serious to admit of trifling. If it were my + own affair, I wouldn't care; and even if I didn't want you, I should + submit with a good grace. But this is a matter of extreme delicacy, and my + father has sent me here because he was unable to come himself. It is a—a + law matter. I went to London merely to see the solicitors. I didn't tell a + soul about my business, and I thought that no one knew I was coming here + except my father and the solicitors.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I'm always an exception, you know,” said the lady, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, see here, now,” said the other, “it's all very well for you to meddle + with my own affairs; but you are now forcing yourself into the midst of + the concerns of others—the business affairs of two great estates. I + must attend to this alone.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mon cher</i>,” said the lady, with unalterable placidity, “business is + not one of your strong points. You really are not fit to manage any + important matter alone. At Dudleigh you have your papa to advise with, at + London your papa's solicitors, and here at Dalton you need a sound adviser + too. Now is there any one in whom you could put greater confidence, or who + could give you better advice on innumerable matters, than the unworthy + being who now addresses you? Come, don't keep up the sulks any longer. + They are not becoming to your style of beauty. For my part, I never sulk. + If you will reflect for a moment, you will see that it is really a great + advantage for you to have with you one so sagacious and shrewd as I am; + and now that the first moment of irritation has passed, I trust you will + look upon my humble offer of service with more propitious eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Something in these words seemed to strike Leon favorably, for the vexation + passed away from his face, and he stood looking thoughtfully at the + ground, which he was mechanically smoothing over with his foot. The lady + said no more, but watched him attentively, in silence, waiting to see the + result of his present meditations. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he at last, “I don't know but that something may arise in + this business, Lucy, in which you may be able to do something—though + what it may be I can not tell just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the lady, “if you really are thinking of an incognito, + my services may be of the utmost importance.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in that,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “But whether the incognito is advisable or not should first be seen. Now + if you would honor me with your confidence to ever so small an extent, I + could offer an opinion on that point which might be worth having. And I + will set you a good example by giving you my confidence. Frankly, then, + the only reason why I followed you was because I found out that there was + a lady in the case.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's it, is it!” said Leon, looking at her curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the lady. “And I heard that your father sent you, and that you + had been talking with his solicitors. Now as you are not in the habit of + doing business with your father, or talking with his solicitors, the thing + struck me very forcibly; and as there was a lady—in fact, a rich + heiress—in the case, and as you are frightfully in debt, I concluded + that it would be well for me to see how the business proceeded; for I + sometimes do not have that confidence in you, Leon, which I should like to + have.” + </p> + <p> + This was spoken in a serious and mournful voice which was totally + different from the tone of raillery in which she had at first indulged. As + she concluded she fixed her eyes sadly on Leon, and he saw that they were + suffused with tears. + </p> + <p> + “You preposterous little goose!” said Leon. “There never was a wilder, a + sillier, and at the same time a more utterly groundless fancy than this. + Why, to begin with, the lady is my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the lady, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me you found out every thing, though how the deuce you + contrived it is more than I can tell,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Our faculties are very much sharpened where our interests are concerned,” + said the lady, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here,” said Leon. “It is true that this lady is my cousin, and + that she is an heiress, and that I am infernally hard up, and that my + father sent me here, and that I have been talking with the solicitors; but + I swear to you the subject of marriage has not once been mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “But only thought of,” suggested the other. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know any thing about people's thoughts,” said Leon. “If you + go into that style of thing, I give up. By-the-way, you know so much, that + I suppose you know the lady's name.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes: Miss Dalton—Edith Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” exclaimed Leon. “Well, I confess I'm mystified. How you could + have found out all this is utterly beyond me.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have no idea of matrimony, <i>mon cher</i>?” said the lady, + attempting to use a sprightly tone, but looking at him with a glance so + earnest that it showed what importance she attached to his reply. + </p> + <p> + Leon was silent for a moment, and looked at the ground. At last he burst + forth impatiently: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, confound it all! what's the use of harping forever on one string, and + putting a fellow in a corner all the time? You insist on holding an + inquisition about thoughts and intentions. How do I know any thing about + that? You may examine me about facts if you choose, but you haven't any + business to ask any thing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose it <i>is</i> rather unfair,” said the lady in a sweet + voice, “to force one to explain all one's thoughts and intentions; so, <i>mon + cher</i>, let's cry quits. At any rate, you receive me for your ally, your + adviser, your guide, philosopher, and friend. If you want incognitos or + disguises, come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose I must,” said Leon, “since you are here, and won't go; + and perhaps you may yet be really useful, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But at first I ought to know what the present condition is of this + 'business' of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've no objection to tell you now, since you know so much; in fact, I + believe you know all, as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not quite all.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” said Leon, “if we're going to talk over this matter any + further, we might find some better place than the middle of a public road. + Let me see,” he continued, looking all around—“where shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + As he looked around his eyes caught sight of the little river that flowed + near, on its course through Dalton to the Bristol Channel. Some trees grew + on the margin, and beneath them was some grass. It was not more than + twenty yards away. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we sit there by the river,” said Leon, “and we can talk it over.” + </p> + <p> + The lady nodded, and the two walked to the river margin. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE WAS SEATED NEAR THE WINDOW."} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — A SOLEMN APPEAL. + </h2> + <p> + A few days passed away in Dalton Hall, and Edith began to understand + perfectly the nature of the restraint to which she was subjected. That + restraint involved nothing of the nature of violence. No rude or uncivil + word was spoken to her. Wiggins and Mrs. Dunbar had professed even + affection for her, and the two servants never failed to be as respectful + as they could. Her restraint was a certain environment, so as to prevent + her from leaving the park grounds. She felt walled in by a barrier which + she could not pass, but within this barrier liberty of movement was + allowed. At the same time, she knew that she was watched; and since her + first discovery of Hugo on her track, she felt sure that if she ever went + any where he would stealthily follow, and not allow her to go out of + sight. Whether he would lift his hand to prevent actual escape, if the + chance should present itself, was a thing which she could not answer, nor + did she feel inclined to try it as yet. + </p> + <p> + During the few days that followed her first memorable experience she made + no further attempt to escape, or even to search out a way of escape. What + had become of Miss Plympton she did not know, and could only imagine. She + still indulged the hope, however, that Miss Plympton was at Dalton, and + looked forward with confidence to see her coming to Dalton Hall, + accompanied by the officers of the law, to effect her deliverance. It was + this hope that now sustained her, and prevented her from sinking into + despair. + </p> + <p> + Of Wiggins during these few days she saw nothing more than a distant + glimpse. She remained in the room which she first occupied during the + greater part of the time. Nor did she see much of Mrs. Dunbar. From an + occasional remark she gathered that she was cleaning the drawing-room or + dusting it; but in this Edith now took no interest whatever. The Hall was + now a prison-house, and the few plans which she had been making at first + were now thrown aside and forgotten. Mrs. Dunbar brought her her meals at + regular intervals, but Edith never took the slightest notice of her. She + could not help observing at times in Mrs. Dunbar's manner, and especially + in her look, a whole world of sorrowful sympathy, but after her + unmistakable championship of Wiggins, she could not feel the slightest + confidence in her. + </p> + <p> + At length one morning Wiggins once more called upon her. She was seated + near the window when she heard a knock. The door was already open, and + turning, she saw Wiggins. She bowed slightly, but said nothing, and + Wiggins bowed in return, after which he entered and seated himself, fixing + his solemn eyes upon her in his usual way. + </p> + <p> + “It is a matter of great regret,” said he, “that I am forced to give pain + to one for whom I entertain so much kindness, and even, let me add, + affection. Had you made your return to this place a little less abruptly, + you would have found, I am sure, a different reception, and your position + would have been less unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have allowed me my liberty,” asked Edith, “and the society of + my friends, if I had delayed longer before my return? If so, let me go + back now, and I will give you notice before coming here again.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins shook his head mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am one,” said he, “who has had deeper sorrows than usually fall to the + lot of man; yet none, I assure you—no, not one—has ever caused + me more pain than my present false position toward you. Can you not place + some confidence in me, and think that this is all for—for your + good?” + </p> + <p> + “You speak so plaintively,” said Edith, “that I should be touched, if your + words were not belied by your acts. What do you think can compensate for + the loss of liberty? Were you ever imprisoned? Did you ever have a jailer + over you? Did you ever know what it was to be shut in with walls over + which you could not pass, and to know that the jailer's eyes were always + upon you? Wait till you have felt all this, and then you will understand + how empty and idle all your present words must be.” + </p> + <p> + While she said these words Wiggins sat as if he had been turned to stone. + His eyes were fixed on her with a look of utter horror. His hands + trembled. As she stopped he shuddered, and hastily looked behind him. Then + another shudder passed through him. At last with a violent effort, he + recovered something of his former calm. + </p> + <p> + “God grant,” said he, “that you may never know what I have known of all + that which you now mention!” + </p> + <p> + His voice trembled as he spoke these words, and when he had said them he + relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + “Since you have invoked the name of the Deity,” said Edith, solemnly, “if + you have any reverence for your Maker, I ask you now, in His name, by what + right you keep me here.” + </p> + <p> + “I am your—guardian,” said Wiggins, slowly; “your—guardian; + yes,” he added, thoughtfully, “that is the word.” + </p> + <p> + “My guardian! Who made you my guardian? Who had the right to put you over + me?” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins paused, and raised his head, which had been bent forward for a few + moments past, looked at Edith with a softer light in his solemn eyes, and + said, in a low voice, which had a wonderful sweetness in its intonation, + </p> + <p> + “Your father.” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked at him earnestly for a moment, affected in spite of herself + by his look and by his voice; but suddenly the remembrance of her wrongs + drove off completely her momentary emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think my father would have made you my guardian,” said she, “if he + had suspected what you were going to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I solemnly assure you that he did know, and that he did approve.” + </p> + <p> + At this Edith smiled. Wiggins now seemed too methodical for a madman, and + she began to understand that he was assuming these solemn airs, so as to + make an impression upon her. Having made up her mind to this, she + determined to question him further, so as to see what more he proposed to + do. + </p> + <p> + “Your father,” said Wiggins, “was my friend; and I will do for you + whatever I would have done for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt of that,” said Edith. “Indeed, you are doing for me now + precisely what I have reason to understand you did for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not comprehend you,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no consequence,” said Edith. “We will let it pass. Let us return + to the subject. You assert that you are my guardian. Does that give you + the right to be my jailer—to confine me here, to cut me off from all + my friends?” + </p> + <p> + “You use harsh words,” said Wiggins; “but nevertheless it is a fact that + the law does allow the guardian this power. It regards him in the place of + a parent. All that a father can do, a guardian can do. As a father can + restrain a child, so can a guardian, if he deems such restraint necessary. + Moreover, if the ward should escape, the law will hand him back to his + guardian, just as it would hand, back a child to its father.” + </p> + <p> + Not one word of this did Edith believe, and so it made no impression. + Having already got the idea in her mind that Wiggins was melodramatic, and + playing a part, she had no doubt that his words would be regulated by the + same desire that governed his acts, and would be spoken exclusively with + the view of producing an impression upon herself. She therefore looked at + him with unchanged feelings, and instantly replied: + </p> + <p> + “It would be very fortunate for you if it were so, but for my part I think + better of the law. At the same time, since you claim all this authority + over me, I should like to know how long you think this power will last. + You do not seem to think that I am of age.” + </p> + <p> + “That matters not,” said Wiggins. “My control over the estates and, my + guardianship over you are of such a nature that they can not cease till + your marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then,” said Edith, “according to that, I ought to try to get married + as soon as possible. And this, I suppose, is your sole reason for shutting + me up?” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins said nothing, but sat looking gloomily at her. + </p> + <p> + By his last words Edith now found what appeared to her a clew to his whole + plan. He was, or pretended to be, her guardian; he had been appointed, or + pretended to have been appointed, by her father. It might have been so. + Edith could well imagine how in previous years he had made this false + friend his executor and the guardian of his child; and then, in the + anguish of the trial and of the punishment, forgotten to annul the deed; + or Wiggins may have forged the document himself. If he really was the + false friend who had betrayed her father, and who had committed that + forgery for which her father innocently suffered, then he might easily + forge such a document as this in her father's name. + </p> + <p> + Such was her conclusion from his words though she did not think fit to say + as much to him. What she did say, however, seemed to have affected him, + for he did not speak for some time. + </p> + <p> + “You have no conception,” said he at length, “of the torment that some of + your careless words cause. You do not know what you do, or what you say. + There is something that I can not tell, whatever be the price of silence—something + that concerns you and me, and your father, and two great houses—and + it is this that makes me dumb, and forces me to stand in this false + position. You look upon me as the crafty, scheming steward—one who + is your pitiless jailer—and I have to bear it. But there is + something which I can say—and I warn you, or rather I implore you, + not to disbelieve me; I entreat you to let my words have some weight. I + declare to you, then, by all that is most sacred among men, that this + restraint which I ask you to undergo is out of no selfish desire, no + avarice, no lack of honor for you, and—affection, but because of a + plan which I have, the success of which concerns all of us, and you not + the least.” + </p> + <p> + Edith listened to this without emotion, though at another time the + solemnity of such an appeal could not have failed to enforce belief. But + now Wiggins seemed only melodramatic, and every word seemed false. + </p> + <p> + “What plan?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is this,” said, Wiggins, looking all around with his usual cautions + vigilance, and drawing nearer to her. “Your father's name is a dishonored + one—the name you bear is covered with the stain of infamy. What + would you not give if his memory could be redeemed from wrong; if even at + this late hour his character could be vindicated? You have, I am sure, a + noble and a devoted heart. You would be willing to do much for this. But + what I ask of you is very little. I ask only silence and seclusion. If you + should consent to this, my work may be done before very long; and then, + whatever may be your feelings toward me, I shall feel that I have done my + work, and nothing further that this world may do, whether of good or evil, + shall be able to affect me. I ask this—more, I entreat it of you, I + implore you, in the sacred name of an injured father, by all his unmerited + wrongs and sufferings, to unite with me in this holy purpose, and help me + to accomplish it. Do not be deceived by appearances. Believe me, I entreat + you, for your father's sake.” + </p> + <p> + Never were words spoken with greater apparent earnestness than these; and + never was any voice or manner more solemn and impressive. Yet upon Edith + no more effect was produced than before. When she had asked him what his + plan was, she had been prepared for this, or something like it. She saw + now that the mode by which he tried to work upon her was by adopting the + solemn and the pathetic style. The consequence was that every gesture, + every intonation, every look, seemed artificial, hollow, and insincere. + For never could she forget the one fatal fact that this was her jailer, + and that she was a helpless prisoner. More than this, he had as good as + asserted his intention of keeping her a prisoner till her marriage, which, + under such circumstances, meant simply till her death. Not for one instant + could he be brought to consent to relax the strictness of his control over + her. For such a man to make such an appeal as this was idle; and she found + herself wondering, before he had got half through, why he should take the + trouble to try to deceive her. When he had finished she did not care to + answer him, or to tell him what was on her, mind. She was averse to + quarrels, scenes, or anything approaching to scolding or empty threats. + What she did say, therefore, was; perfectly commonplace, but for that + reason perhaps all the more disappointing to the man who had made such an + appeal to her. + </p> + <p> + “What you say,” said she, “does not require any answer. It is as though I + should ask you to submit to imprisonment for an indefinite period, or for + life, for instance, for the sake of a friend. And you would not think such + a request very reasonable. What I require of you is, not idle words, but + liberty. When you ask me to believe you, you must first gain my confidence + by treating me with common justice. Or if you will not release me, let me + at least see my friends. That is not much. I have only one friend—Miss + Plympton.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to think more of this Miss Plympton than you do of your own + father,” said Wiggins, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “What I think of my father is of no consequence to you,” said Edith; “but + as to Miss Plympton, she took me as a dying gift from my dear mamma, and + has loved me with a mother's love ever since, and is the only mother I + have known since childhood. When you turned her away from my gates you did + an injury to both of us which makes all your protestations of honesty + useless. But she is not under your control, and you may be sure that she + will exert herself on my behalf. It seems to me that you have not + considered what the result will be if she comes back in the name of the + law.” + </p> + <p> + “I have considered every thing,” said Wiggins. Then, after a pause, he + added, “So you love Miss Plympton very dearly?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, very dearly!” + </p> + <p> + “And her words would have great weight with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very great weight.' + </p> + <p> + “If, now, she should tell you that you might put confidence in me, you + would feel more inclined to do so?” + </p> + <p> + Edith hesitated at this; but the thought occurred to her of Miss + Plympton's detestation of Wiggins, and the utter impossibility of a change + of opinion on her part. + </p> + <p> + “If Miss Plympton should put confidence in you,” said she, “I should + indeed feel my own opinions changed.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this Wiggins sat meditating profoundly for a short time. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose, now,” said he at length, “that you should receive a note from + Miss Plympton in which she should give you a more favorable opinion of me, + would you accept it from her?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly should be happy to get any thing of that kind from her,” said + Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wiggins, “I had not intended to take any one into my + confidence, certainly not any stranger, and that stranger woman; but I am + so unable to tell you all, and at the same time I long so to have your + confidence, that I may possibly decide to see Miss Plympton myself. If I + do, rest assured her opinion of me will change. This will endanger the + success of my plan; but I must run the risk—yes, whatever it is; for + if this goes on, I must even give up the plan itself, and with it all my + hopes for myself—and for you.” + </p> + <p> + These last words Wiggins spoke in a low voice, half to himself, and with + his eyes turned to the ground. Edith heard the words, but thought nothing + of the meaning of them. To her, every thing was done for effect, nothing + was sincere. If she did not understand the meaning of some of his words, + she did not trouble herself to try to, but dismissed them from her + thoughts as merely affectations. As to his allusion to Miss Plympton, and + his idea of visiting her, Edith did not for a moment imagine that he meant + it. She thought that this was of a piece with the rest. + </p> + <p> + With these last words Wiggins arose from his chair, and with a slight bow + to Edith, took his departure. The interview had been a singular one, and + the manner of entreaty which Wiggins had adopted toward her served to + perplex her still more. It was part of the system which he had originated, + by which she was never treated in any other way than with the utmost + apparent respect and consideration, but in reality guarded as a prisoner + with the most sleepless vigilance. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — A WONDERFUL ACTOR. + </h2> + <p> + A few more days passed, and Edith remained in the same state as before. + Occasionally she would walk up and down the terrace in front of the house, + but her dislike to being tracked and watched and followed prevented her + from going any distance. She saw that she could not hope to escape by her + unassisted efforts, and that her only hope lay in assistance from the + outside world. Miss Plympton, she felt sure, could never forget her, and + would do all that possibly could be done to effect her release as soon as + possible. But day after day passed, and still no deliverer appeared. + </p> + <p> + She saw nothing of Wiggins during those days, but Mrs. Dunbar attended on + her as usual. To her, however, Edith now paid no attention whatever. In + her opinion she was the associate of her jailer, and a willing partner in + the wrong that was being done to her. Under these circumstances she could + not show to her any of that gentle courtesy and kindly consideration which + her nature impelled her to exhibit to all with whom she was brought in + contact. On the contrary, she never even looked at her; but often, when + she was conscious that Mrs. Dunbar was gazing upon her with that strange, + wistful look that characterized her, she refused to respond in any way. + And so the time passed on, Edith in a state of drear solitude, and + waiting, and waiting. + </p> + <p> + At length she received another visit from Wiggins. He came to her room as + before, and knocked in his usual style. He looked at her with his usual + solemn earnestness, and advanced toward her at once. + </p> + <p> + “You will remember,” said he, “that when I was last here, a few days ago, + I said that I might possibly decide to see Miss Plympton myself. It was + solely for your sake; and to do so I have made a great sacrifice of + feeling and of judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Plympton?” interrupted Edith, eagerly. “Have you seen Miss + Plympton?” + </p> + <p> + “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Where? At Dalton? Is she at Dalton still?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not.” + </p> + <p> + Edith's countenance, which had flushed with hope, now fell at this. It + looked as though Miss Plympton had gone away too hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you see her?” she asked, in a low voice, trying to conceal her + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “At Plympton Terrace,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “Plympton Terrace,” repeated Edith, in a dull monotone, while her breast + heaved with irrepressible emotion. Her heart within her. This indeed + looked like a desertion of her on the part of her only friend. But after a + moment's despondency she rallied once more, as the thought came to her + that this was all a fiction, and that Wiggins had not seen her at all. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wiggins, “I have seen her, and had a long interview, in which + I explained many things, to her. It was all for your sake, for had you not + been concerned, I should never have thought of telling her what I did. But + I was anxious to get you to confide in me, and you said that if Miss + Plympton should put confidence in me, you yourself would feel inclined to + do so. It is because I want your confidence, your trust—because I + can't tell you all yet, and because without your trust I am weak—that + I have done this. Your misery breaks up all my plans, and I wish to put an + end to it. Now I have seen Miss Plympton at Plympton Terrace, and she has + written you a letter, which I have brought.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he drew from, his pocket a letter, and handed it to + Edith. With a flushed face and a rapidly throbbing heart Edith took the + letter. It seemed like that for which she had been so long waiting, but at + the same time there was a certain ill-defined apprehension on her mind of + disappointment. Had that letter come through any other channel, it would + have excited nothing but unmingled joy; but the channel was suspicions, + and Edith did not yet believe that he had really been to Plympton Terrace. + She suspected some new piece of acting, some new kind of deceit or attempt + to deceive, and the fact that she was still a prisoner was enough to + fortify all her obstinate disbelief in the protestations of this man. + </p> + <p> + But on the letter she saw her own name in the well-known and unmistakable + handwriting of Miss Plympton. She was quite familiar with that writing, so + much so that she could not be deceived. This letter, then, was from her + own hand, and as she read it she began to think that after all Wiggins was + true in his statement that he had seen her. Then, seeing this, with deep + agitation, and with a thousand conflicting emotions, she tore it open. She + read the following: + </p> + <p> + “Plympton Terrace. + </p> + <p> + “My darling Edith,—I can not tell you, my own sweet love, how I have + suffered from anxiety since I parted from you at the gates of Dalton Hall. + I went back, and received your dear note that night, which consoled me. On + the following day I looked for you, but you did not come. Full of + impatience, I went to the gate, but was not admitted, though I tried every + inducement to make the porter open to me. Turning away, I determined to go + at once in search of some such means by which I could gain access to you, + or free you from your position. After much thought I went to visit Sir + Lionel Dudleigh, who heard my story, and promised to act at once on your + behalf. He advised me to return to Plympton Terrace, and wait here till he + should take the necessary steps, which I accordingly did. I have been here + ever since, and I can truly say, my darling, that you have not once been + out of my thoughts, nor have I till this day been free from anxiety about + you. My worst fear has been about your own endurance of this restraint; + for, knowing your impatient disposition, I have feared that you might fret + yourself into illness if you were not soon released from your unpleasant + situation. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dearest, this day has brought me a most wonderful and unexpected + deliverance from all my fear. This morning a caller came who refused to + send up his name. On going to the parlor I found a venerable man, who + introduced himself as Mr. Wiggins. I confess when I saw him I was + surprised, as I had imagined a very different kind of man. But you know + what a bitter prejudice I have always had against this man, and so you may + imagine how I received him. In a few words he explained his errand, and + stated that it was exclusively with reference to you. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my own darling Edith, I come to that about which I scarce know + how to speak. Let me hasten to say that both you and I have totally + misunderstood Mr. Wiggins. Oh, Edith, how can I speak of him, or what can + I say? He has told me such a wonderful and such a piteous story! It can + not be told to you, for reasons which I respect, though I do not approve + altogether of them. I think it would be better to tell you all, for then + your situation would be far different, and he would not stand in so + fearfully false a position. But his reasons are all-powerful with himself, + and so I shall say nothing. But oh, my dearest, let me implore you, let me + entreat you, to give to this man your reverence and your trust! Be + patient, and wait. Perhaps he may overcome his high and delicate scruples, + and let you know what his purposes are. For my part, my only grief now is + that I have done something toward giving you that fear and hate and + distrust of him which now animate you. I entreat you to dismiss all these + feelings, and bear with your present lot till brighter days come. The + purpose of Mr. Wiggins is a high and holy one, and this he will work out + successfully, I hope and believe. Do not, dearest, by your impatience give + any additional pang to that noble heart. Beware of what you say or do now, + for fear lest hereafter it may cause the deepest remorse. Spare him, for + he has suffered much. The name of your family, the memory of your injured + father, are all at stake now; and I pray you, dearest, to restrain + yourself, and try to bear with the present state of things. If you can + only believe me or be influenced by me, you will give him all your trust, + and even your affection. But if you can not do this at once, at least + spare him any further pain. Alas, how that noble heart has suffered! When + I think of his mournful story, I almost lose all faith in humanity, and + would lose it altogether were it not for the spectacle which is afforded + by himself—a spectacle of purest and loftiest virtue, and stainless + honor, and endless self-devotion. But I must say no more, for fear that I + may say too much, so I will stop. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma unites with me in kindest love, and believe me, my dearest Edith, + </p> + <p> + “Ever affectionately yours, + </p> + <h4> + “PAMELA PLYMPTON. + </h4> + <p> + “P.S.—I have not referred to that noblest of women, Mrs. Dunbar. Oh, + dearest Edith, I hope that ere this she has won your whole heart, and that + you have already divined something of that exalted spirit and that meek + self-sacrifice which make her life so sublime. I can say no more. P. P.” + </p> + <p> + Now it will be evident to the reader that if Miss Plympton had really + written the above, and had meant to incite Edith to give her affectionate + reverence to her two jailers, she could not have gone about it in a worse + way. Edith read it through, and at the beginning thought that it might be + authentic, but when she came to the latter half, that idea began to + depart. As she read on further and further, it appeared more and more + unlike Miss Plympton. The sudden transition from hate to admiration, the + extravagant terms that were made use of, the exhortations to herself to + change her feelings toward one like Wiggins, the stilted phraseology, the + incoherences, all seemed so unlike the manner of Miss Plympton as to be + only fit for derision. But the postscript seemed worst of all. Here the + writer had overdone herself, or himself, and by dragging in the + housekeeper, Mrs. Dunbar, and holding her up for the same extravagant + admiration, a climax of utter absurdity had been attained. + </p> + <p> + On reading this singular letter Edith's thoughts came quick and vehement + through her mind. If this letter were indeed the work of Miss Plympton, + then all hope for her interference was utterly gone. If Miss Plympton + wrote that, then she was evidently either mad, or else she had undergone a + change of mind so incomprehensible that it was equivalent to madness. But + Miss Plympton could never have written it. Of that she felt as sure as she + was of her own existence. + </p> + <p> + If she did not, who did write it? The handwriting was exactly like that of + her revered friend. There was not the slightest difference between this + and that with which she was so familiar. It was her handwriting indeed, + but it was not Miss Plympton who spoke there. The hand was the hand of + Miss Plympton, but the voice was the voice of Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + He had written all this, she felt sure. These allusions to his sufferings, + these hints about a plan, these references to her father, these entreaties + to her to give him her affection and trust—all these were familiar. + Wiggins had already made use of them all. It was, then, the work of + Wiggins beyond a doubt. + </p> + <p> + And how? Could she doubt for a moment how? By imitating the writing of + Miss Plympton. Perhaps he had sent a messenger there, and obtained a + letter, part of which he had copied. The first half might have been copied + verbatim, while the last must certainly be his own work. As to his power + to imitate her writing, need she hesitate about that? Was not her father + condemned for a forgery which another had done! Had she not already + suspected that this false friend was no other than John Wiggins himself? + Forgery! that was only too easy for a man like him. And she now saw in + that letter an effort to accomplish her ruin by the same weapon with which + her father's had been wrought. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts rushed through her mind as she read and as she stood + looking over the pages and thinking about what had been done. All the hate + that she had ever felt for her father's betrayer, which had increased when + he had become her own oppressor, now glowed hot within her heart and could + not be repressed. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “STEADYING HIMSELF, HE STOOD THERE TREMBLING."} + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Wiggins had stood before her on the same spot where he had + stopped when he handed her the letter. He had stood there with his eyes + fixed upon her, and on his face an expression of solemn suspense—a + suspense so anxious that one might have supposed his whole life depended + upon Edith's decision. So he stood, rigid, mute, with all his soul + centring itself in that gaze which he fixed on her, in an attitude which + seemed almost that of a suppliant, for his reverend head was bowed, and + his aged form bent, and his thin hands folded over one another before him. + </p> + <p> + Such were the face and figure and look and attitude that Edith saw as she + raised her head. Had her anger been less fervid and her indignation less + intense, she would surely have been affected by that venerable suppliant + form; but as it was, there was no place for any softer emotion. + </p> + <p> + She rose from her chair, and as her white face showed itself opposite to + his, her eyes looked upon him, as once before, hard, stem, pitiless; but + this time their glance was even more cruel and implacable. She held out + the letter to him, and said, quietly, + </p> + <p> + “Take it.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her, and spoke in a voice that was scarcely audible. + </p> + <p> + “What—do—you—mean?” + </p> + <p> + Carried beyond herself now by this attempt to prolong what seemed so + stupid and transparent a deceit, Edith spoke her whole mind plainly: + </p> + <p> + “This is a close imitation of Miss Plympton's handwriting, but she could + never write such words—never! You have not visited her; you have not + seen her. This is a forgery. Once you were successful in forging, but now + you can not be. By that crime you once destroyed the father, but if you + destroy the daughter, you must—” + </p> + <p> + But what Edith was going to say remained unsaid, for at this point she was + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins had listened to her with a stunned expression, as though not able + to comprehend her. But as the fullness of the meaning of her words reached + his ears he shuddered from head to foot. A low moan escaped him. He + started back, and regarded Edith with eyes that stared in utter horror. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stop!” he cried, in a low, harsh voice. “No more, no more! This is + madness. Girl, you will some day weep tears of blood for this! You will + one day repent of this, and every word that you have spoken will pierce + your own heart as they now pierce mine. You are mad: you do not know what + you are saying. O Heavens! how mad you are in your ignorance! And I need + only utter one word to reduce you to despair. If I were dying now I could + say that which would give you life-long remorse, and make you carry a + broken heart to your grave!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly, and staggered back, but caught at a chair, and, + steadying himself, stood there trembling, with his head bowed, and heavy + sighs escaping him. Soon hasty footsteps were heard, and Mrs. Dunbar + hurried into the room, with a frightened face, looking first at Edith and + then at Wiggins. She said not a word, however, but approaching Wiggins, + drew his arm in hers, and led him out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Edith stood for some time looking after them. + </p> + <p> + “What a wonderful actor he is!” she thought; “and Mrs. Dunbar was waiting + behind the scenes to appear when her turn should come. They went out just + like people on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — TWO CALLERS. + </h2> + <p> + Time passed slowly with the prisoner, but the freedom for which she longed + seemed as distant as ever. Miss Plympton's apparent desertion of her was + the worst blow that she had yet received, and even if the letter that + Wiggins had shown her was a forgery, it still remained evident that but + little was to be hoped for now in that quarter. It seemed to her now as if + she was cut off from all the world. Her relatives were indifferent; Sir + Lionel Dudleigh was inaccessible; Miss Plympton appeared to have given her + up; the county families who, under ordinary circumstances, might have + tried to call on her, would probably view with indifference if not + prejudice, the daughter of a convict. All these circumstances, therefore, + reduced her to deep dejection, and made her feel as though she was indeed + at the mercy of her jailer. + </p> + <p> + While thus conscious of her helplessness however, she did not fear any + thing worse than imprisonment. The idea had occurred to her of further + injury, but had been at once dismissed. She did not think it possible that + her life could be in danger. It seemed to her that Wiggins owed all his + power to the very fact of her life. He was her guardian, as he had said, + and if she were to die, he would be no more than any one else. The nearest + heirs would then come forward, and he would have to retire. Those nearest + heirs would undoubtedly be those relatives of whom Miss Plympton had told + her, or perhaps Sir Lionel Dudleigh, of whom she now thought frequently, + and who began to be her last hope. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Wiggins was her guardian till her marriage showed her + plainly that he would endeavor to postpone any such a thing as marriage + for an indefinite period. In order to do this he would, no doubt, keep her + secluded as long as he could. He would feel it to be for his interest that + her health should be taken care of, for any sickness of hers would + necessarily alarm him. The thought of this made her wish for illness, so + that she might have a doctor, and thus find some one who was not in his + employ. But then, on the other hand, she feared that the doctor whom he + might send would be some one in his pay, or in his confidence, like all + the rest, and so her desire for illness faded out. + </p> + <p> + At last a day came when the monotony of her life was interrupted. She was + looking out of her window when she was startled by the sound of a carriage + coming up the main avenue. The sound filled her with excitement. It could + not be Wiggins. It must be some one for her, some friend—Miss + Plympton herself. Her heart beat fast at the thought. Yes, it must be Miss + Plympton. She had not given her up. She had been laboring for her + deliverance, and now she was coming, armed with the authority of the law, + to effect her release. Edith's first impulse was to hurry down and meet + the carriage, but long and frequent disappointment had taught her the need + of restraint, and so she remained at the window till the carriage came + into view. + </p> + <p> + Well was it for her that she had tried to repress her hopes, and had + forborne to rush down at her first impulse. One glance showed her that the + new-comers were strangers. It was a handsome barouche that she saw, and in + it were a lady and a gentleman, neither of whom she had seen before. But + even in the midst of her disappointment hope still found a place, and the + thought occurred to her that though these might not be familiar to her, + they yet might be friends, and might even have been sent by Miss Plympton. + But, if so, how came they here? Did they have any trouble at the gate? How + was it that Wiggins relaxed his regulations in their favor? Could they be + friends of his own, after all? Yes, it must be so. + </p> + <p> + Filled with thoughts like these, which thus alternated between hope and + fear, Edith watched the new-comers, as the carriage rolled up to the Hall, + with something of the same emotions that fill the shipwrecked sailor as he + watches the progress of a lifeboat that comes to save him. Even now it was + with difficulty that she prevented herself from rushing down and meeting + them, and imploring their help at once. But she restrained her impatience + with a great effort, and summing up all her self-control, she waited. + </p> + <p> + She heard the great bell resounding through the long halls; she heard the + footsteps of Mrs. Dunbar as she went down. Then there was a long delay, + after which Mrs. Dunbar returned and entered the room. She appeared + troubled, and there was on her face a larger share than usual of that + anxious, fearful watchfulness which made its wonted expression. There was + also something more—something that seemed like utter consternation + and bewilderment; she was as white as ashes; her hands clutched one + another convulsively; her eyes were fixed in an abstracted gaze on + vacancy; and when she spoke it was in a low voice like a whisper, and in + scarcely articulate words. + </p> + <p> + “Some one—to see you.” + </p> + <p> + That was all that Mrs. Dunbar said. + </p> + <p> + “To see me!” repeated Edith, starting from her chair, and too excited to + notice Mrs. Dunbar's manner. Hope arose once more, eager and unrestrained, + and without stopping a moment to ask any thing about them, or to make any + preparations to see them, she hurried down, fearing lest the smallest + delay might be dangerous. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room the visitors introduced themselves as Captain and + Mrs. Mowbray; but as the captain was young, and Mrs. Mowbray apparently + about fifty, they appeared to Edith to be mother and son. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray's features showed that in her youth she might have been + beautiful; yet there was an expression on them which was not attractive to + Edith, being a compound of primness and inanity, which made her look like + a superannuated fashion plate. She was elaborately dressed: a rich robe of + very thick silk, a frisette with showy curls, a bonnet with many ornaments + of ribbons and flowers, and a heavy Cashmere shawl—such was her + costume. Her eyes were undeniably fine, and a white veil covered her face, + which to Edith looked as though it was painted or powdered. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman at first sight seemed like a remarkably handsome man. He was + tall and well formed; chestnut hair curled short over his wide brow; + square chin, whiskers of the intensely fashionable sort, and heavy + mustache. His eyes were gray, and his features were regular and finely + chiseled. + </p> + <p> + In spite of Edith's longing for friends, there was something in the + appearance of these two which excited a feeling akin to aversion in her + mind; and this was more particularly the case with regard to Captain + Mowbray. As he looked at her there was a cold, hard light in his eyes + which gave her the idea of a cruel and pitiless nature; and there was a + kind of cynicism in his tone when he spoke which repelled her at once. He + had all the air of a roué, yet even roués have often a savor of jolly + recklessness about them, which conciliates. About this man, however, there + was nothing of this; there was nothing but cold, cynical self-regard, and + Edith saw in him one who might be as hateful as even Wiggins, and far more + to be dreaded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” said Mrs. Mowbray, “that we are intruders on your seclusion; + but we waited some time, and at last concluded to break in upon you in + spite of your rigid restrictions. But others have anticipated us, I + presume, and so perhaps you will pardon us.” + </p> + <p> + “My seclusion is not my own choice,” said Edith, mournfully. “You are the + first whom I have seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my dear Miss Dalton, since we are not unwelcome, I feel very glad + that we have ventured. May I hope that we will see a great deal of one + another?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray's manner of speaking was essentially in keeping with her + appearance. It may be called a fashion-plate style. It was both fluent and + insincere. She spoke in what is sometimes called a “made voice”—that + is to say, a voice not her own, made up for company—a florid + falsetto: a tone that Edith detested. + </p> + <p> + Could she throw herself upon the sympathies of these? Who were they? Might + they not be in league with Wiggins for some purpose unknown to her? It was + curious that these strangers were able to pass the gates which were shut + to all the rest of the world. These were her thoughts, and she determined + to find out from these Mowbrays, if possible, how it was that they got in. + </p> + <p> + “Had you any difficulty at the gates with the porter?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” said Captain Mowbray, “not the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he offer no resistance?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Why should he?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has been in the habit of turning back all visitors.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Mowbray, listlessly, “that is a thing you ought not to allow.” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid,” said Edith, “that he had tried to keep you back.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” said Mowbray, with strong emphasis. “He knows better than that, I + fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet he is capable of any amount of insolence.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” said Mowbray, languidly. “Then why don't you turn him off, and + get a civil man?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—because,” said Edith, in a tremulous voice, “there is one + here who—who countermands all my orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mowbray, in a listless tone, which seemed to say that he took + no interest whatever in these matters. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said Mrs. Mowbray, in a querulous voice. “Servants are such + dreadful plagues. Worry! why, it's nothing else but worry! And they're so + shockingly impertinent. They really have no sense of respect. I don't know + for my part what the world's coming to. I suppose it's all these dreadful + radicals and newspapers and working-men's clubs and things. When I was + young it was not so.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not been in Dalton Hall since you were a young girl, Miss + Dalton?” said Mowbray, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “No; not for ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you find it much changed?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much—and for the worse. I have had great difficulties to + contend with.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” said Mowbray, indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate, you have a noble old place, with every thing around + you to make you enjoy life.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—all but one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a prisoner here, Captain Mowbray,” said Edith, with an appealing + glance and a mournful tone. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, really?” said Mowbray; and taking up a book he began to turn over the + leaves in a careless way. + </p> + <p> + “A prisoner?” put in Mrs. Mowbray. “Yes, and so you are. It's like + imprisonment, this dreadful mourning. But one has to act in accordance + with public sentiment. And I suppose you grieve very much, my dear, for + your poor dear papa. Poor man! I remember seeing him once in London. It + was my first season. There were Lord Rutland and the Marquis of Abercorn + and the young Duke of Severn—all the rage. Do you know, my dear, I + was quite a belle then.” + </p> + <p> + From this beginning Mrs. Mowbray went on to chatter about the gayeties of + her youth—and Lord A, how handsome he was; and Sir John B, how rich + he was; and Colonel C, how extravagant he was. Then she wandered off to + the subject of state balls, described the dress she wore at her first + presentation at court, and the appearance of his Gracious Majesty King + George, and how he was dressed, and who were with him, and what he said—while + all the time poor Edith, who was longing for an opportunity to tell them + about herself, sat quivering with impatience and agitation. + </p> + <p> + During all this time Captain Mowbray looked bored, and sat examining the + furniture and Edith alternately. He made no effort to take part in the + conversation, but seemed anxious to bring the visit to a close. This Edith + saw with a sinking heart. These, then, were the ones from whom she had + hoped assistance. But unpromising as these were, they formed just now her + only hope, and so, as they at length rose to go, Edith grew desperate, and + burst forth in a low but quick and excited tone. + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment,” said she, “and excuse me if I give you trouble; but the + position I am in forces me to appeal to you for help, though you are only + strangers. I am actually imprisoned in this place. A man here—Wiggins, + the late steward—confines me within these grounds, and will not let + me go out, nor will he allow any of my friends to come and see me. He + keeps me a prisoner under strict watch. Wherever I go about the grounds I + am followed. He will not even allow my friends to write to me. I am the + owner, but he is the master. Captain Mowbray, I appeal to you. You are an + officer and a gentleman. Save me from this cruel imprisonment! I want + nothing but liberty. I want to join my friends, and gain my rights. I + entreat you to help me, or if you can not help me yourself, let others + know, or send me a lawyer, or take a letter for me to some friends.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words poor Edith sank back into the chair from which she + had risen, and sobbed aloud. She had spoken in feverish, eager tones, and + her whole frame quivered with agitation. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray listened to her with a complacent smile, and when Edith sank + back in her chair she sat down too, and taking out her handkerchief and a + bottle of salts, began to apply the one to her eyes and the other to her + nose alternately. As for Captain Mowbray, he coolly resumed his seat, + yawned, and then sat quietly looking first at Edith and then at Mrs. + Mowbray. At length Edith by a violent effort regained her self-control, + and looking at the captain, she said, indignantly, + </p> + <p> + “You say nothing, Sir. Am I to think that you refuse this request?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” said Captain Mowbray, dryly. “Silence is said usually to + signify consent.” + </p> + <p> + “You will help me, then, after all?” cried Edith, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” said Captain Mowbray, a little abruptly. “Who is this + man, Miss Dalton, of whom you complain?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins?” said Mowbray. “Ah! was he not the steward of your late father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard somewhere that he was appointed your guardian. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Edith. “He claims to be my guardian; but I am of age, + and I don't see how he can be.” + </p> + <p> + “The law of guardianship is very peculiar,” said Mowbray. “Perhaps he has + right on his side.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried Edith, warmly. “How can he have the right to restrict my + liberty, and make me a prisoner on my own estate. I am of age. The estate + is absolutely mine. He is only a servant. Have I no rights whatever?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say you had,” said Mowbray, languidly stroking his mustache. “I + should say you had, of course. But this guardian business is a troublesome + thing, and Wiggins, as your guardian, may have a certain amount of power.” + </p> + <p> + Edith turned away impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I hoped,” said she, “that the mere mention of my situation would be + enough to excite your sympathy. I see that I was mistaken, and am sorry + that I have troubled you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too hasty,” said Mowbray. “You see, I look at your position + merely from a legal point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “A legal point!” exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray, who had now dried her eyes and + restored the handkerchief and the salts bottle to their proper places. “A + legal point! Ah, Miss Dalton, my son is great on legal points. He is quite + a lawyer. If he had embraced the law as a profession, which I once thought + of getting him to do, though that was when he was quite a child, and + something or other put it quite out of my head—if he had embraced + the law as a profession, my dear, he might have aspired to the bench.” + </p> + <p> + Edith rested her brow on her hand and bit her lips, reproaching herself + for having confided her troubles to these people. Wiggins himself was more + endurable. + </p> + <p> + “Your case,” said Captain Mowbray, tapping his boot with his cane in a + careless manner, “is one which requires a very great amount of careful + consideration.” + </p> + <p> + Edith said nothing. She had become hopeless. + </p> + <p> + “If there is a will, and Wiggins has powers given him in the instrument, + he can give you a great deal of trouble without your being able to prevent + it.” + </p> + <p> + This scene was becoming intolerable, and Edith could bear it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I want to make one final request,” said she, with difficulty controlling + the scorn and indignation which she felt. “It is this—will you give + me a seat in your carriage as far as the village inn?” + </p> + <p> + “The village inn?” repeated Mowbray, and the he was silent for some time. + His mother looked at him inquiringly and curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have friends,” said Edith, “and I will go to them. All that I ask of + you is the drive of a few rods to the village inn. You can leave me there, + and I will never trouble you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really, Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, after another pause, in which + Edith suffered frightful suspense—“really, your request is a + singular one. I would do any thing for you—but this is different. + You see, you are a sort of ward, and to carry you away from the control of + your guardian might be a very dangerous offense.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact, you are afraid, I see,” said Edith, bitterly. “Well, you need + say no more. I will trouble you no further.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, she rose and stood in all her stately beauty before them—cold, + haughty, and without a trace of emotion left. They were struck by the + change. Thus far she had appeared a timid, agitated, frightened girl; they + now saw in her something of that indomitable spirit which had already + baffled and perplexed her jailers. + </p> + <p> + “We hope to see more of you,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “We shall call again + soon.” + </p> + <p> + To this Edith made no reply, but saw them to the drawing-room door. Then + they descended the stairs and entered the carriage, and she heard them + drive off. Then she went up to her room, and sat looking out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + “He is worse than Wiggins,” she muttered. “He is a gentleman, but a + villain—and a ruined one too—perhaps in the pay of Wiggins. + Wiggins sent him here.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — A PANIC AMONG THE JAILERS. + </h2> + <p> + The arrival of these visitors had produced an extraordinary effect upon + Mrs. Dunbar. So great was her agitation that she could scarcely announce + them to Edith. So great was it that, though she was Edith's jailer, she + did not dream of denying them the privilege of seeing her, but summoned + Edith at once, as though she was free mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + After Edith had gone down the agitation of Mrs. Dunbar continued, and grew + even greater. She sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. In + that position she remained motionless for a long time, and was at length + aroused by the return of Edith from her interview with her visitors. Upon + her entrance Mrs. Dunbar started up suddenly, and with downcast face left + the room, without exciting any attention from Edith, who was too much + taken up with her own thoughts about her visitors to notice any thing + unusual about the appearance of her housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Edith's room, Mrs. Dunbar walked along the hall with slow and + uncertain step, and at length reached a room at the west end. The door was + closed. She knocked. A voice cried, “Come in,” and she entered. It was a + large room, and it looked out upon the grounds in front of the house. A + desk was in the middle, which was covered with papers. All around were + shelves filled with books. It seemed to be a mixture of library and + office. At the desk sat Wiggins, who looked up, as Mrs. Dunbar entered, + with his usual solemn face. + </p> + <p> + Into this room Mrs. Dunbar entered without further ceremony, and after + walking a few paces found a chair, into which she sank with something like + a groan. Wiggins looked at her in silence, and regarding her with that + earnest glance which was usual with him. Mrs. Dunbar sat for a few moments + without saying a word, with her face buried in her hands, as it had been + in Edith's room; but at length she raised her head, and looked at Wiggins. + Her face was still deathly pale, her hands twitched the folds of her dress + convulsively, and her eyes had a glassy stare that was almost terrible. It + could be no common thing that had caused such deep emotion in one who was + usually so self-contained. + </p> + <p> + At last she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him!” said she, in a low tone, which was hardly raised above + a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time, and at length said, in a + low voice, + </p> + <p> + “He is here, then?” + </p> + <p> + “He is here,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “But have you seen him? Why did you not + tell me that he was here? The shock was terrible. You ought to have told + me.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I intended to do so,” said he; “but I did not know that he would come so + soon.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see him?” asked Mrs. Dunbar, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday—only yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew him at once, of course, from his extraordinary likeness to—to + the other one. I wish you had told me. Oh, how I wish you had told me! The + shock was terrible.” + </p> + <p> + And saying this, Mrs. Dunbar gave a deep sigh that was like a groan. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” said Wiggins, “I have been trying to conjecture how he came + here, and as I did not think he would come to the Hall—at least, not + just yet—I thought I would spare you. Forgive me if I have made a + mistake. I had no idea that he was coming to the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “How could he have come here?” said Mrs. Dunbar. “What possible thing + could have sent him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wiggins, “I can understand that easily enough. This Miss + Plympton you know, as I told you, threatened that she would go to see + Lionel. I forgot to ask her about that when I saw her, but it seems now + that she must have carried out her threat. She has undoubtedly gone to see + Lionel, and Lionel has sent his boy instead of coming himself. Had he only + come himself, all would have been well. That is the chief thing that I + hoped for. But he has not chosen to come, and so here is the son instead + of the father. It is unfortunate; it delays matters most painfully; but we + must bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think Lionel can suspect?” asked Mrs. Dunbar, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Suspect? Not he. I think that he objected to come himself for a very good + reason. He has good grounds for declining to revisit Dalton Hall. He has + sent his son to investigate, and how this enterprise will end remains to + be seen.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how he managed to get into the place at all,” said Mrs. + Dunbar. “Wilkins is usually very particular.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wiggins, “I can understand that only too well. Unfortunately + he recognized Wilkins. My porter is unknown here, but any one from + Lionel's place whose memory reaches back ten years will easily know him—the + desperate poacher and almost murderer, whose affair with the gamekeeper of + Dudleigh Manor cost him a sentence of transportation for twenty years. His + face is one that does not change much, and so he was recognized at once. + He came to me in a terrible way, frightened to death for fear of a fresh + arrest; but I calmed him. I went to the lodge myself, and yesterday I saw + <i>him</i>. I knew him at once, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “But did he recognize you?” cried Mrs. Dunbar, in a voice full of fresh + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I fear so,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + At this Mrs. Dunbar started to her feet, and stared at Wiggins with a face + full of terror. Then gradually her strength failed, and she sank back + again, but her face still retained the same look. + </p> + <p> + “He did not recognize me at first,” said Wiggins. “He seemed puzzled; but + as I talked with him, and heard his threats about Wilkins, and about what + he called Edith's imprisonment, he seemed gradually to find out all, or to + surmise it. It could not have been my face; it must have been my voice, + for that unfortunately has not changed, and he once knew that well, in the + old days when he was visiting here. At any rate, he made it out, and from + that moment tried to impress upon me that I was in his power.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you tell him—all?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I told him nothing. I let him think what he chose. I was not + going, to break through my plans for his sake, nor for the sake of his + foolish threats. But in thus forbearing I had to tolerate him, and hence + this visit. He thinks that I am in his power. He does, not understand. But + I shall have to let him come here, or else make every thing known, and for + that I am not at all prepared as yet. But oh, if it had only been Lionel!—if + it had only been Lionel!” + </p> + <p> + “And so,” said Mrs. Dunbar, after a long silence, “he knows all.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows nothing,” said Wiggins. “It is his ignorance and my own patient + waiting that make him bold. But tell me this—did he recognize you?” + </p> + <p> + At this question Mrs. Dunbar looked with a fixed, rigid stare at Wiggins. + Her lips quivered. For a moment she could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “He—he looked at me,” said she, in a faltering voice—“he + looked at me, but I was so overcome at the sight of him that my brain + whirled. I was scarcely conscious of any thing. I heard him ask for Edith, + and I hurried away. But oh, how hard—how hard it is! Oh, was ever + any one in such a situation? To see him here—to see that face and + hear that voice! Oh, what can I do—what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + And with these words Mrs. Dunbar broke down. Once more her head sank, and + burying her face in her hands, she wept and sobbed convulsively. Wiggins + looked at her, and as he looked there came over his face an expression of + unutterable pity and sympathy, but he said not a word. As he looked at her + he leaned his head on his hand, and a low, deep, prolonged sigh escaped + him, that seemed to come from the depths of his being. + </p> + <p> + They sat in silence for a long time. Mrs. Dunbar was the first to break + that silence. She roused herself by a great effort, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea what his object may be in coming here, or what Lionel's + object may be in sending him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wiggins, “I don't know. I thought at first when I saw him + that Lionel had some idea of looking after the estate, to see if he could + get control of it in any way; but this call seems to show that Edith + enters into their design in some way. Perhaps he thinks of paying + attentions to her,” he added, in a tone of bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “And would that be a thing to be dreaded?” asked Mrs. Dunbar, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “Would you blame the son for the misdeeds of the father?” she asked, in + the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Wiggins; “but when the son is so evidently a counterpart of the + father, I should say that Edith ought to be preserved from him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “I'm afraid you judge too hastily. It + may be for the best. Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “It can only be for the worst,” said Wiggins, with solemn emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “There is a woman with him,” said Mrs. Dunbar, suddenly changing the + conversation. “Who can she be?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman? What kind of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Elderly. I never saw her before. He calls himself Mowbray, and she is + Mrs. Mowbray. What can be the meaning of that? The woman seems old enough + to be his mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Old?” said Wiggins. “Ah—Mowbray—h'm! It must be some design + of his on Edith. He brings this woman, so as to make a formal call. He + will not tell her who he is. I don't like the look of this, and, what is + worse, I don't know what to do. I could prohibit his visits, but that + would be to give up my plans, and I can not do that yet. I must run the + risk. As for Edith, she is mad. She is beyond my control. She drives me to + despair.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see what danger there is for Edith in his visits,” said Mrs. + Dunbar, in a mournful voice. + </p> + <p> + “Danger!” said Wiggins. “A man like that!” + </p> + <p> + “You are judging him too hastily,” said Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her in silence for a moment, and then said, + </p> + <p> + “I hope I am, I'm sure, for your sake; but I'm afraid that I am right and + that you are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation Mrs. Dunbar retired, carrying with her in + her face and in her heart that deep concern and that strong agitation + which had been excited by the visit of Mowbray. Edith, when she next saw + her, noticed this, and for a long time afterward wondered to herself why + it was that such a change had come over the housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — ANOTHER VISIT + </h2> + <p> + About two weeks afterward the Mowbrays called again. Edith was a little + surprised at this, for she had not expected another visit; but on the + whole she felt glad, and could not help indulging in some vague hope that + this call would be for her good. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said she to Mrs. Mowbray, “that I have not been able to + return your call. But I have already explained how I am imprisoned here.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “IT WAS A CHILD."} + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear,” said Mrs. Mowbray, “pray don't speak of that. We feel for + you, I assure you. Nothing is more unpleasant than a bereavement. It makes + such a change in all one's life, you know. And then black does not become + some people; they persist in visiting, too; but then, do you know, they + really look to me like perfect frights. Not that you look otherwise than + well, dear Miss Dalton. In fact, I should think that in any dress you + would look perfectly charming; but that is because you are a brunette. + Some complexions are positively out of all keeping with black. Have you + ever noticed that? Oh yes, dear Miss Dalton,” continued Mrs. Mowbray, + after a short pause. “Brunettes are best in black—mark my words, + now; and blondes are never effective in that color. They do better in + bright colors. It is singular, isn't it? You, now, my dear, may wear black + with impunity; and since you are called on in the mysterious dispensation + of Providence to mourn, you ought at least to be grateful that you are a + brunette. If you were a blonde, I really do not know what would ever + become of you. Now, I am a blonde—but in spite of that I have been + called on to mourn. It—it was a child.” + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Mowbray said this she applied the handkerchief and smelling-bottle + for a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + “A child!” said Edith, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear—a sweet son, aged twelve, leaving me to mourn over him. + And as I was saying, my mourning did not become my complexion at all. That + was what troubled me so. Really, a blonde ought never to lose friends—it + is so unbecoming. Positively, Providence ought to arrange things + differently.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be indeed well if blondes or any other people could be saved + from sorrow,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “It would be charming, would it not?” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Now, when my + child died, I mourned for him most deeply—indeed, as deep as that,” + she said, stretching out her hands so as to measure a space of about + eighteen inches—“most deeply: a border around the skirt of solid + crape half a yard wide; bonnet smothered in crape; and really and + positively I myself was literally all crape, I do believe; and with my + light complexion, what people could have thought, I'm sure I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not much to choose between mother and son,” thought Edith. “They + are capable of any baseness, they are so heartless. There is no hope + here.” Yet in spite of such thoughts she did not shun them. Why not? How + could an honorable nature like hers associate with such people? Between + them and herself was a deep gulf, and no sympathy between them was + possible. The reason why she did not shun them lay solely in her own + loneliness. Any thing in the shape of a human being was welcome rather + than otherwise, and even people whom she despised served to mitigate the + gloom of her situation. They made the time pass by, and that of itself was + something. + </p> + <p> + “I went into half-mourning as soon as I could,” continued Mrs. Mowbray; + “but even half-mourning was very disagreeable. You may depend upon it, no + shade of black ought ever to be brought near a blonde. Half-mourning is + quite as bad as deep mourning.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have had very much to bear,” said Edith, absently. + </p> + <p> + “I should think I had. I really could not go into society, except, of + course, to make calls, for that one <i>must</i> do, and even then I felt + like a guy—for how absurd I must have looked with such an + inharmonious adjustment of colors! But you, my dear Miss Dalton, seem made + by nature to go in mourning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, with a sigh which she could not suppress; “nature has + been lavish to me in that way—of late.” + </p> + <p> + “You really ought always to mourn,” said Mrs. Mowbray, in a sprightly + tone. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I shall always have to, whether I wish it or not,” said Edith, + with another sigh. + </p> + <p> + “You are such a remarkable brunette—quite an Italian; your + complexion is almost olive, and your hair is the blackest I ever saw. It + is all dark with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is indeed all dark with me,” said Edith, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “The child that I lost,” said Mrs. Mowbray, after a pause, “was a very + nice child, but he was not at all like my son here. You often find great + differences in families. I suppose he resembled one side of the family, + and the captain the other.” + </p> + <p> + “You have lived here for a good many years?” said Edith, abruptly changing + the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Mrs. Mowbray, “It's a very nice county—don't you + think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I really have not had an opportunity of judging.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Of course not; you are mourning. But when you are done mourning, and + go into society, you will find many very nice people. There are the + Congreves, the Wiltons, the Symbolts, and Lord Connomore, and the Earl of + Frontington, and a thousand delightful people whom one likes to know.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not belong to the county, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “N—no; my family belongs to Berks,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “You don't + know any thing about Berks, I suppose? I'm a Fydill.” + </p> + <p> + “A fiddle?” said Edith, somewhat bewildered, for Mrs. Mowbray pronounced + her family name in that way, and appeared to take great pride in it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, “a Fydill—one of the oldest families there. Every + one has heard of the Fydills of Berks. I suppose you have never been + there, and so have not had the opportunity of hearing about them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith; “I have passed most of my life at school.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. You are so deliciously young. And oh, Miss Dalton, what a + delightful thing it is to be young! One is so admired, and has so many + advantages! It is a sad, sad thing that one grows old so soon. I'm so + gray, I'm sure I look like eighty. But, after all, I'm not so very old. + There's Lady Poyntz, twice my age, who goes into society most + energetically; and old Miss De Frissure, who, by-the-way, is enormously + rich, actually rides on horseback, and she is old enough to be my mother; + and Mrs. Rannig, the rich widow—you must have heard about her—positively + does nothing but dance; and old Mrs. Scott, the brewer's, wife, who has + recently come here, whenever she gives balls for her daughters, always + dances more than any one. All these people are very much older than I am; + and so I say to myself, 'Helen, my dear, you are quite a girl; why + shouldn't you enjoy yourself?' And so I do enjoy myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then, that you like dancing?” said Edith, who, in spite of her + sadness, found a mournful amusement in the idea of this woman dancing. + </p> + <p> + “I'm par-tic-u-lar-ly fond of dancing,” said Mrs. Mowbray, with strong + emphasis. “Only the young men are so rude! They fly about after young + chits of girls, and don't notice me. And so I don't often have an + opportunity, you know. But there is a German gentleman here—a baron, + my dear—and he is very polite. He sometimes asks me to dance, and I + enjoy it very much, only he is so short and fat and bald that I fear he + looks very ridiculous. But the young men, Miss Dalton, are very, very + neglectful.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they are so, I do assure you. Now that is the very thing that I have + tried to impress upon the captain. 'My dearest boy,' I have always said, + 'mind the ladies. That is the first and highest duty of a true gentleman. + Particularly those ladies who are mature. Don't confine your attentions to + giddy and thoughtless girls. There are many ladies at every ball of + estimable character, and sometimes even of considerable wealth, who + deserve your attentions far more than those poor young creatures who have + nothing more to recommend them than their childish good looks.' And I + trust my son has not failed to profit by my advice. At balls he does not + often seek out the young, but rather the old. Indeed, so marked is his + preference for married ladies that all the younger ones notice it and + resent it, so that they have formed really quite an aversion to him; and + now, whether he will or not, he has to dance exclusively with the elder + ones. Once he danced with me, and it was a proud moment for me, I assure + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” said Edith, with a look at Mowbray. “But still, is it + not strange that young ladies should refuse to dance with one who is an + officer and a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + During the whole of this conversation the captain had said nothing, but + had been sitting turning over the leaves of a book, and furtively watching + Edith's face and manner. When the conversation turned upon him, however, + his face flushed, and he looked angrily at Mrs. Mowbray. At last, as Edith + spoke, he started, and said: + </p> + <p> + “See here, now! I don't think it's altogether the correct thing to make + remarks about a gentleman in his presence. I'm aware that ladies are given + to gossip, but they generally do it behind a fellow's back. I've done + nothing to deserve this just now.” + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing offensive in my remark,” said Edith, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mrs. Mowbray, “my son is very quick and very sensitive, and + very nice on a point of honor. He is the most punc-til-i-ous man you ever + saw;” and Mrs. Mowbray held up her hands, lost in amazement at the + conception which was in her mind of the punctiliousness of her son. “But, + my dear Miss Dalton,” she continued, “he is quick to forgive. He don't + bear malice.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I said,” growled Mowbray, “that I don't like this! Talk of me + behind my back, if you choose. You can't imagine that it's particularly + pleasant for a fellow to sit here and listen to all that rot.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my son,” said Mrs. Mowbray, fondly, “it's all love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother your love!” muttered this affectionate son. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you naughty, sensitive boy,” said Mrs. Mowbray, “I will come + here by myself, and tell dear Miss Dalton all about you behind your back. + I will tell her about some of your adventures in London, and she will see + what a naughty, wicked, rakish fellow you have been. He is sadly like me, + dear Miss Dalton—so sensitive, and so fond of society.” + </p> + <p> + Edith gave a polite smile, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Then the conversation lagged for a little while. At length Edith, full of + the idea that Wiggins had sent them for some purpose, and desirous of + finding out whether her suspicions were correct or not, said, in a + careless tone, + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know this Wiggins very well?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wiggins?” said Mrs. Mowbray, quickly. “Oh yes; my son and he often + meet, though for my part I know little or nothing about the man.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” cried Mowbray, interrupting her. “Miss Dalton, Mrs. Mowbray is so + talkative that she often says things that she does not mean, or, at least, + things that are liable to mislead others. I have met Wiggins, it is true, + but do not imagine that he is a friend of mine. On the contrary, he has + reason to hate me quite as much as he hates you. Your idea of any + connection between him and me, which I plainly see you hint at, is + altogether wrong, and you would not have even suspected this if you knew + me better.” + </p> + <p> + “You came here so easily,” said Edith, “that I very naturally supposed + that you were on friendly terms.” + </p> + <p> + “I come here easily,” said Mowbray, “not because he is my friend, but + because he is so afraid of me that he does not dare to keep me back.” + </p> + <p> + “You understand, then,” said Edith, “that he keeps others back. If you + have such power over him, how is it that you can calmly stand by and see + him imprison a free-born and a high-born English lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” muttered Mowbray, “I don't know any thing about that. He is your + guardian, and you are his ward, and the law is a curious thing that I do + not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet Mrs. Mowbray says that you are distinguished for your knowledge of + legal points,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray made no reply, and in a few moments Mrs. Mowbray rose to go. + </p> + <p> + “Positively,” said she, “my dear Miss Dalton, we must see more of one + another; and since your mourning confines you here, I must come often, and + I know very well that we shall all be great friends.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “BECAUSE I BEAT HIM."} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — A STROKE FOR LIBERTY. + </h2> + <p> + The Mowbrays came occasionally, but no others ever managed to get through + the gates. Edith could not help feeling a sort of resentment against these + people, who thus were able to do what no others could do, and came to her + so easily whenever they wished. Still she did not think it worth while to + refuse to see them. They beguiled the monotony of her life, and she still + had a half hope that something might result from their visits. Even if + they were in the pay of Wiggins, as she believed, they yet might feel + inclined to assist her, from the hope of larger pay, and she hoped that + the occasion might arise in which she might be able to hint at such a + thing. As yet they met her on an equal footing, and in spite of her + contempt for them, she did not quite like the idea of regularly offering + them a bribe to assist her. Yet she thought that the time might come when + she could do so, and this thought sustained her. + </p> + <p> + In her visits Mrs. Mowbray still prattled and chattered in her usual + manner about her usual themes. Dress, society, and the incivility of young + men seemed to be her favorite topics. The captain usually came with her, + and seemed desirous to do the agreeable to Edith, but either from a + natural lack of gallantry, or from the discouraging treatment which he + received from her, he was somewhat unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + About two months after his first call the captain came alone. He was on + horseback, and was accompanied by a magnificent Newfoundland dog, which + Edith had noticed once or twice before. On seeing Edith he showed more + animation than was usual with him, and evidently was endeavoring, to the + best of his power, to make himself agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “I have come, Miss Dalton,” said he, after the usual greetings, “to see if + you would do me the honor of going out riding with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Riding?” said Edith; “you are very kind, I am sure; but will you pardon + me if I first ask you where you propose to take me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about the park,” said Mowbray, somewhat meekly. + </p> + <p> + “The park?” said Edith, in a tone of disappointment. “Is that all? Why, + Captain Mowbray, this park is only my jail yard, and to go about it can + not be very pleasant, to a prisoner, either on horseback or on foot. But + surely I do not understand you. I must be too hasty. Of course you mean to + do as every gentleman would do, and let the lady select the place where + she wishes to go?” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, “I should be most happy to do so + if I were able; but you are not allowed to go out of the park, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Who prohibits me, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins! And why should you care for any of his regulations? Do you not + know who he is, and what he is, and in what position he stands toward me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said Mowbray, in a hesitating voice, “he is your guardian, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am of age,” said Edith. “Guardians can not imprison their wards as + he imprisons me. I am of age. I own this place. It is mine. He may have + some right to attend to its business for the present, but he has no right + over me. The law protects me. You know that as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, true; but—ah—you know—ah—you are really so + very <i>peculiarly</i> situated, Miss Dalton, that I should not like to do + any thing which might compromise your—ah—position.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Captain Mowbray, you must now be speaking without thinking. In + what way, pray, can it compromise my position to ride with you through the + village streets, rather than over the roads of the park?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—ah—you are in mourning, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Really I do not see what that has to do with it. If I have the sorrow of + bereavement, that is no reason why I should have the additional sorrow of + imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know, Wiggins would make a fuss about it, and put you to no end + of trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray's unwillingness to help her, and hesitation, had once before + roused Edith's indignation; but now she believed him to be in Wiggins's + employ, and therefore felt calm, and talked with him chiefly for the sake + of seeing what she could get out of him, either in the way of explanation + or concession. + </p> + <p> + “When you speak of trouble,” said she, “I think it is I who will give + trouble to him rather than undergo it from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well—either way,” said Mowbray, “there would be trouble, and + that is what I wish to avoid.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen are not usually so timid about encountering trouble on behalf + of a lady,” said Edith, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you know, if it were ordinary trouble I wouldn't mind it, but + this is legal trouble. Why, before I knew where I was I might be + imprisoned, and how would I like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very well, as I can testify,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, with a desperate effort to appear + earnest and devoted, “there is nothing that I would not do for you, and I + feel exceedingly pained that you are not content with your present + position; but you see I do not want to put myself in the clutches of the + law if I can help it. Wiggins is an enemy of mine, as I told you, and only + tolerates me here because he dare not prevent me—neither he nor his + man; but—ah—you know—that is—I mean—he—ah—he + watches me very closely, you know, and if I were to do any thing that he + could lay hold of, he would be very glad to do so, and put me to trouble + and expense—no end.” + </p> + <p> + Here Edith understood once more a profession of enmity against Wiggins, + but whether it was real or not she could not tell. She believed, rather, + that it was pretended. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg of you to make no more excuses,” said she. “Your explanations + are quite satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had trouble enough from lawyers,” continued Mowbray, “and don't + want to have any more.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite prudent in you, and careful.” + </p> + <p> + “The first thing that a man of the world learns, Miss Dalton,” said the + captain, in a confidential tone, “is to take care of himself. That is a + lesson that I have learned by bitter experience, and I have resolved, + among other things, and above all, never, under any circumstances, to put + myself within the grasp of the lawyers; and if you only knew what bother + I've had, you wouldn't blame me.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear that I must have given you great pain, then,” said Edith, “by even + hinting at such a thing as taking my part and helping me. You feel so + strongly about your personal safety that you must have been deeply + agitated at such a proposal from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said the captain, not choosing to notice the sarcasm of + Edith's tone, “one grows wiser from experience, you know, and mine has + been a bitter one. I would gladly open your gates for you, I assure you, + if I could do it without danger, and if Wiggins had no authority; but as + it is, I really do not see how I can possibly interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for that matter,” said Edith, “if it were not for Wiggins, I + suppose I could open the gates for myself, and so I could save you even + that trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray made no reply to this, but merely stroked his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said he at last, “I don't see why you should be so + discontented here. There are many who would be glad to live as you do, in + so magnificent a house, with such noble grounds. You have every thing that + you want. Why you should be so discontented I can not imagine. If you did + get out, and live in the village, you would not like it. It's not a + pleasant place. For my part I would much rather live where you do than + where I do. If you would confine your attention to this place, and give up + all ideas of getting away, you might be as happy as the day is long.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, the captain looked at Edith to see the effect of his words. + Edith was looking at him with a very strange expression, something like + what may appear in the face of the naturalist at discovering an animal of + some new species—an expression of interest and surprise and + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “So those are your sentiments?” she said; and that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Edith, “it may be my misfortune, but I think differently.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” said the captain, in a more animated tone, “since we can + not agree in this discussion, why not drop it? Will you not ride with me + about the park? I'm sure I like the park very well. I have not become so + tired of it as you have. I have a very nice lady's horse, which is quite + at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + At this request Edith was silent for a few moments. The man himself grew + more abhorrent to her, if possible, every moment; but her desire to find + out what his purposes were, and her hope of making use of him still, in + spite of present appearances, made her think that it might be best to + accept his offer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said she, “I have no objection, since you choose to subject me + to such limitations, and I suppose I must add that I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak of thanks, Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray. “Let me say rather + that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Two days after this Mowbray again called on Edith. This time, in addition + to his own horse, he brought another with a lady's saddle, and was + followed by the Newfoundland dog. Edith was soon dressed for the ride, and + joined Mowbray in the drawing-room. As they went out the dog was sitting + on the portico, and leaped forward joyfully at the sight of his master, + but suddenly retreated in fear. + </p> + <p> + “It's all very well, Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, “for them to talk about + cruelty to animals, but the only way you can make them fond of you is by + fear. See how that dog loves me. And why? Because I beat him.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in these words, and in the tone in which they were + spoken, that afforded Edith a new view of Mowbray's character. There were + a ferocity and a cruelty there which were quite in keeping with the + paltriness and meanness which he had already evinced. But Edith kept + silence. In a few moments they were mounted, and rode away side by side. + </p> + <p> + As they turned the corner of the Hall Edith saw a face among the trees—white, + solemn, watchful, stern—and the sight gave her a strange shock, for + it was the face of Wiggins. It seemed to her at that moment that this man + must hate Mowbray, for the glance which he gave was by no means that of a + friend or confederate. Mowbray might, therefore, have spoken the truth + when he said that Wiggins hated him, and if so, he might now be dreading + the presence of this unwelcome guest. This thought was not unpleasant, for + though Mowbray could not be a friend, she thought it not a bad substitute + that he was at least an enemy of Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + The consequence was that she really enjoyed the ride; and Mowbray, seeing + her in good spirits, thought that it arose from more favorable + inclinations toward himself, and exerted himself to please. They rode at a + rapid pace through the long avenues, under magnificent overarching trees, + and over fields and meadows. Mowbray was a fine horseman, and Edith had + been accustomed to riding from childhood, and liked nothing better than to + rush along at headlong speed. She felt exhilaration and enthusiasm such as + she had not known for a long time. As she looked at Mowbray's splendid + figure she could not help regretting that a man with such rare physical + advantages should have, after all, but a craven spirit. Was it, then, she + thought, altogether fear that prevented him from assisting her to escape? + The idea seemed absurd. There must be some reason of a different kind. She + felt certain that he was an unprincipled villain, and that he had some + designs of his own upon her. What they were she could not imagine. If he + wished to gain her hand, he had certainly taken a singular way to make + himself agreeable. He was cruel, cynical, mean, and sordid, and took no + pains to conceal this. He had advised her to submit to imprisonment, and + had refused to help her in any way. What his designs could possibly be she + could not conjecture. + </p> + <p> + During the ride but little was said. Mowbray was not talkative at any + time, and on the present occasion he confined himself to remarks which he + intended to be amiable and agreeable. To these Edith made civil replies. + At last they rode back to the Hall, and Mowbray prepared to dismount. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going?” said Edith. “For my part I should rather not dismount + just yet. It is too dull in the house. I would rather ride a little + distance with you, and walk back.” + </p> + <p> + At this Mowbray looked at her in silence, and with a perplexed expression + on his countenance. + </p> + <p> + Edith calmly waited for him to start. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he at length, “I really do not know—” And then + he paused. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Mowbray, “I don't know about your riding any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, surely,” said Edith, “you are not going to refuse your horse for a + few minutes longer?” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray looked gloomily at her, and then started off. Edith rode by his + side, and they both kept silence until they reached the park gate. + </p> + <p> + The porter came out, but on seeing Edith he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” said Edith. “You see I am with Captain Mowbray.” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray looked deeply perplexed, and as he said nothing, the porter began + to open the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” said Mowbray. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Edith. “Captain Mowbray, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not go out,” said Mowbray. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were only going as far as the gate, and would walk back. + You must not try to follow me.” + </p> + <p> + “Must not?” cried Edith, whom the hope of escape had roused to intense + excitement. “Do you say that to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mowbray. + </p> + <p> + “What right have you?” said Edith, haughtily. And then turning to the + porter, she said, imperatively, “Open that gate at once.” + </p> + <p> + But the obdurate porter did not obey her now any more than before. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Mowbray,” said she, “order that man to open the gate.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not,” said Mowbray, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall ride by your side till you go out.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way that a gentleman speaks to a lady?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get me into trouble, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't intend to,” said Edith, scornfully. “It is my own act. You will + not take me out, but I go out of my own accord.” + </p> + <p> + The porter meanwhile stood bewildered, with the gate only partly open, + holding it in this way, and waiting for the end of this singular scene. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” cried Mowbray, fiercely, “you will make me resort to + extreme measures.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare not!” cried Edith, who by this time was fearfully excited. She + had a horse beneath her now. That horse seemed part of herself. In that + horse's strength and speed she lost her own weakness, and so she was now + resolved to stake every thing on one effort for liberty. + </p> + <p> + “Don't force me to it,” said Mowbray, “or you will make me do something + that I shall be sorry for.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare not!” cried Edith again. “Do you dare to threaten me—me, + the mistress of Dalton Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Catch hold of her reins, captain,” cried the porter, “and make her go + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your bloody tongue!” roared Mowbray.—“Miss Dalton, you must go + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Edith. “I will go out when you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will not go out at all. I will go back to the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not enter it,” said Edith, as firmly as though she possessed + the keys of Dalton Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton, you force me to use violence.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: IN HER FRENZY EDITH STRUCK THAT HAND AGAIN AND AGAIN.} + </p> + <p> + “You dare not use violence,” said Edith, with a look that overawed the + craven soul of Mowbray. For Edith now was resolved to do any thing, + however desperate, and even the threat of violence, though she felt that + he was capable of it, did not deter her. The two faced one another in + silence for a few moments, the one strong, muscular, masculine, the other + slight, fragile, delicate; yet in that girlish form there was an intrepid + spirit which Mowbray recognized, defiant, haughty, tameless, the spirit of + all her fathers, strengthened and intensified by a vehement desire for + that liberty that lay outside the gates. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the porter, “I'd better be a-shuttin' the gates till you two + settle yer business. She'll dash through if I don't. I see it in her eye.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she won't,” said Mowbray. “Don't shut the gates; wait a moment.” Then + turning to Edith, he said, + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton, for the last time, I say go back, or you'll be sorry.” Edith + looked steadfastly and sternly at the captain, but said not one word. The + captain looked away. + </p> + <p> + “Porter,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold her horse.” + </p> + <p> + “But she'll rush through the gates. Shall I fasten them?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I'll hold the reins till you get them. And, porter, I leave this + horse with Miss Dalton, since she won't dismount. You see that he's well + taken care of.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + The captain, while speaking, had reached out his arm to take Edith's + reins, but she turned her horse's head, and he missed them. The porter saw + this movement, and sprang forward. Edith pulled the reins. Her horse + reared. Wild with excitement, and seeing the gates open before her, and + the road beyond, Edith struck at the porter with her whip over his face, + and then drove her horse at the open gates. The horse sprang through like + the wind. The porter shrieked after her. She was on the road. She was + free! + </p> + <p> + No—not free! + </p> + <p> + Not free, for after her there came the thundering tramp of another horse. + It was Mowbray in pursuit. + </p> + <p> + His horse was far better than hers. He gained on her step by step. Nearer + and nearer he came. He was behind her; he was abreast of her before she + had ridden a quartet of a mile. The tower of the village church was + already in sight, when suddenly a strong hand was laid on her reins. + </p> + <p> + In her frenzy Edith struck that hand again and again with the heavy butt + of her riding-whip, but it did not loosen its grasp. Her horse stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you!” roared Mowbray to Edith, while his face was livid with + passion and pain, “I'll kill you!” and seizing her whip hand, he wrenched + the whip out of it. + </p> + <p> + Edith was silent. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray said no more. He turned her horse and led it back. Edith looked + around wildly. Suddenly, as they came near the gates, the intolerable + thought of her renewed imprisonment maddened her, and the liberty which + she had so nearly gained roused her to one more effort; and so, with a + start, she disengaged herself and leaped to the ground. Mowbray saw it, + and, with a terrible oath, in an instant leaped down and gave chase. The + horses ran forward and entered the gates. + </p> + <p> + Edith held up her long skirts and ran toward the village. But again + Mowbray was too much for her. He overtook her, and seizing her by the + wrist, dragged her back. + </p> + <p> + Edith shrieked for help at the top of her voice. Mowbray looked fiercely + around, and seeing no one, he took his handkerchief and bound it tightly + around her month. Then, overcome by despair, Edith's strength gave way. + She sank down. She made no more resistance. She fainted. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray raised her in his arms, and carried her into the porter's lodge. + The gates were then locked. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — A STRANGE CONFESSION. + </h2> + <p> + Edith came to herself in the porter's lodge. Her re-awakened eyes, in + looking up confusedly, saw the hateful face of Mowbray bending over her. + At once she realized the horror of her position, and all the incidents of + her late adventure came vividly before her mind. Starting up as quickly as + her feeble limbs would allow, she indignantly motioned him away. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray, without a word, stepped back and looked down. + </p> + <p> + Edith staggered to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, in a low voice, “your carriage has been sent + for. It is here, and will take you to the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Edith made no reply, but looked absently toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, coming a little nearer, “I implore you to + hear me. I would kneel at your feet if you would let me. But you are so + imbittered against me now that it would be useless. Miss Dalton, it was + not hate that made me raise my hand against you. Miss Dalton, I swear that + you are more dear to me than life itself. A few moments ago I was mad, and + did not know what I was doing. I did not want you to go away from this + place, for I saw that you would be lost to me forever. I saw that you + hated me, and that if you went away just then I should lose you. And I was + almost out of my senses. I had no time to think of any thing but the + bitter loss that was before me, and as you fled I seized you, not in + anger, but in excitement and fear, just as I would have seized you if you + had been drowning.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Mowbray,” said Edith, sternly, “the violence you have offered me + is enough to satisfy even you, without such insult as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not even listen to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” exclaimed Edith, in an indescribable tone. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must be heard. I love you. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Love!” interrupted Edith, in a tone of unutterable contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, love,” repeated Mowbray, vehemently, “from the first time that I saw + you, when you implored my help.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not give me your help?” asked Edith, looking at him in + cold and haughty indignation. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” said Mowbray. “Before I saw you I knew how you were + situated. Wiggins would have kept me away, but dared not. I know that + about him which makes me his master. When I saw you, I loved you with all + my soul. When you appealed to me, I would have responded at once, but + could not. The fact is, Mrs. Mowbray was present. Mrs. Mowbray is not what + she appears to be. Before her I had to pretend an indifference that I did + not feel. In short, I had to make myself appear a base coward. In fact, I + had to be on my guard, so as not to excite her suspicions of my feelings. + Afterward, when I might have redeemed my character in your eyes, I did not + know how to begin. Then, too, I was afraid to help you to escape, for I + saw that you hated me, and my only hope was to keep you here till you + might know me better.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Mowbray,” said Edith, “if you are a captain, which I doubt, such + explanations as these are paltry. After what you have done, the only thing + left is silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Dalton, will nothing lead you to listen to me? I would lay down + my life, to serve you.” + </p> + <p> + “You still wish to serve me; then?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Most fervently,” cried Mowbray. + </p> + <p> + “Then open that gate,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Open that gate,” said Edith, “and prove your sincerity. Open it, and + efface these marks,” she cried, as she indignantly held up her right hand, + and showed her wrist, all black from the fierce grasp in which Mowbray had + seized it. “Open it, and I promise you I will listen patiently to all that + you may have to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, “if I opened that gate I should never see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never see me again if you do not.” + </p> + <p> + “At least I shall be near you.” + </p> + <p> + “Near me? Yes, and hated and despised. I will call on Wiggins himself to + help me. He was right; he said the time would come when I would be willing + to trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust him? What, that man? You don't know what he is.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you, Captain Mowbray?” + </p> + <p> + “I? I am a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” said Edith, quietly, “not that—any thing rather than that.” + </p> + <p> + At this Mowbray's face flushed crimson, but with a violent effort he + repressed his passion. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he, “it is a thing that you might understand. The fear + of losing you made me desperate. I saw in your flight the loss of all my + hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are those hopes now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate, I have not altogether lost you. Let me hope that I may + have an opportunity to explain hereafter, and to retrieve my character. + Miss Dalton, a woman will sometimes forgive offenses even against herself, + when she knows that they are prompted by love.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to me,” said Edith, “to seek the affections of women as you do + those of dogs—by beating them soundly.” + </p> + <p> + The sight of Mowbray's dog, who was in the room, reminded Edith of the + master's maxim which he had uttered before this memorable ride. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton, you do me such wrong that you crush me. Can you not have + some mercy?” + </p> + <p> + “Open the gate,” said Edith. “Do that one thing, and then you may make all + the explanations you wish. I will listen to anything and everything. Open + the gate, and I will promise to forgive, and even to forget, the + unparalleled outrage that I have suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will leave me forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Open that gate, Captain Mowbray. Prove yourself to be what you say—do + something to atone for your base conduct—and then you will have + claims on my gratitude which I shall always acknowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Can I let you go?” he said. “Do you ask it of me?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith, impatiently, “I don't ask it. I neither hope nor ask for + any thing from you. Wiggins himself is more promising. At any rate, he has + not as yet used absolute violence, and, what is better, he does not + intrude his society where it is not wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have no hope,” said Mowbray, in what was intended to be a + plaintive tone. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know,” said Edith, “but I know this—that the time + will surely come, after all, when I shall get my freedom, and then, + Captain Mowbray, you will rue the day when you dared to lay hands on me. + Yes, I could get my freedom now, I suppose, if I were to parley with + Wiggins, to bribe him heavily enough; and I assure you I am tempted now to + give up the half of my estate, so as to get free and have you punished.” + </p> + <p> + Mowbray turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “There were no witnesses,” said he, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “You forget that the porter saw it all. But this is useless,” she added; + and passing by Mowbray, she went to the door. Outside was a carriage, + which the porter had brought down from the Hall, into which she got, and + then drove away, while Mowbray stood looking at her till she drove out of + sight. + </p> + <p> + The effects of this adventure were felt for some time. Excitement, + fatigue, pain, and grief, all affected Edith, so that she could not leave + her room for weeks. Mrs. Dunbar was assiduous in her attentions, and Edith + supposed that both she and Wiggins knew all about it, as the porter would + undoubtedly have informed them; but her communications with her were + limited only to a few words, and she regarded her with nothing but + distrust. In Mrs. Dunbar's manner, also, she saw something which indicated + a fresh trouble, something which had been manifested by her ever since + Mowbray's first appearance, and which Edith now suspected to be the result + of Mowbray's violence. This led to vain speculations on her part which he + had uttered before this memorable as to the mysterious connection that + existed between her jailers. Mowbray professed to be the enemy and the + master of Wiggins. Her remembrance of Wiggins's look of hate made her + think that this was true. But Mrs. Dunbar she did not believe to be an + enemy of Mowbray's; and the porter, who was the incorruptible servant of + Wiggins, seemed equally devoted to Mowbray. + </p> + <p> + She recalled also Mowbray's words to herself in explanation of his own + course. He had asserted that he had the power over Wiggins from some + knowledge which he possessed, and also that Mrs. Mowbray was not what she + appeared to be. He had spoken as though he was afraid of Mrs. Mowbray's + finding out what he called his love for Edith. Was she his mother, then, + at all? What did it all mean? For Edith, at any rate, it was not possible + to understand it, and the character, motives, and mutual relationship of + all those with whom she had come in contact remained an impenetrable + mystery. + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of Edith, the Mowbrays called several times to make + inquiries about her, and after her recovery they still visited her. At + first she refused to see them, but one day Mrs. Mowbray came alone, and + Edith determined to see her, and get rid of her effectually. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray rose as she entered, and advancing to greet her, held out her + hand with a cordial smile. Edith did not take it, yet Mrs. Mowbray took no + offense, but, on the contrary, met her in the most effusive manner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Miss Dalton,” said she, “what an age it has been since we + met! It seems like years! And when I wanted to see you so par—tic—u—lar-ly! + And are you quite well? Have you quite recovered? Are you sure? How glad I + am!” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray,” said Edith, as soon as she could make herself heard, “I + have sent word to you several times that I do not wish to see you again. + You know the reason why as well as I do. I can only say that I am + surprised at this persistence, and shall in future be under the necessity + of shutting my doors against you.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Edith, in spite of her severe afflictions, could still speak of the + place as hers, and under her orders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Miss Dalton,” burst forth Mrs. Mowbray, “that is the very + reason why I have so in—sist—ed on seeing you. To explain, you + know—for there is nothing like an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “You may spare yourself the trouble,” said Edith. “I do not want any more + explanations.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you positively must, you know,” said Mrs. Mowbray, in her most + airy manner. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me. I wish to hear nothing whatever about it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's that sad, sad boy,” said Mrs. Mowbray, coolly ignoring Edith's + words, “and deeply has he repented. But do you know, dear, it was only his + fondness for you. Pos—i—tive—ly nothing else, dear, but + his fondness for you. Oh, how he has talked about it! He says he is + willing to give up his right eye, or hand—I really forget which—to + recall the past. My poor dear boy is very impetuous.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray, I do not wish to be unkind or rude, but you really force me + to it.” + </p> + <p> + “He's impetuous,” said Mrs. Mowbray, without noticing Edith, “but he's + warm-hearted. He's a most affectionate son, and he is so affectionate + toward you. It's all his fondness for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray, this is intolerable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Dalton, you don't know—you really don't know. He has loved + you ever since he first saw you—and so true! Why, he dotes on you. + He was afraid that he would lose you. You know, that was the reason, why + he interfered. But he says now most distinctly that he thinks his + interference was quite un—war—rant—a—ble—quite, + I assure you; my dear Miss Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sat looking at this insolent woman with a clouded brow, not knowing + whether to order her out of the house or not. But Mrs. Mowbray seemed + beautifully unconscious of any offense. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing that he has been talking about ever since it happened,” + she continued, “is his sorrow. Oh, his sorrow! And it is deep, Miss + Dalton. I never saw such deep sorrow. He really swears about it in a + shocking manner; and that with him is a sign that his feelings are + concerned very strongly. He always swears whenever he is deeply moved.” + </p> + <p> + Edith at this started to her feet with a look in her eyes which showed + Mrs. Mowbray that she would not be trifled with any longer. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray,” said she, “I came down for the sole purpose of telling you + that in future I shall dispense with the pleasure of your calls.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray rose from her chair. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed, with a gesture of consternation; “and live in + complete seclusion? Not receive calls? No, no; you really must not think + of such a thing. We are your friends, you know, and you must not deny us + an occasional sight of you. My poor boy will positively die if he doesn't + see you. He's pining now. And it's all for you. All.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray,” said Edith, in a severe tone, “I do not know whether you + give offense intentionally or not. You seem unable to take a hint, however + strongly expressed, and you force me to speak plainly, although I dislike + to do so. You must not, and you shall not, come here any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Miss Dalton, you really are quite excited,” said Mrs. + Mowbray, with a pleasant smile. + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say,” said Edith, coldly. “You are not—to come here + again.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mowbray laughed lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you really can't keep us away. We positively must come. My son + insists. These lovers, you know, dear, are so pertinacious. Well,” she + added, looking hastily at Edith, “I suppose I must say good—morning; + but, Miss Dalton, think of my boy. Good—morning, my dear Miss + Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + And so Mrs. Mowbray retired. + </p> + <p> + She called again four times, twice alone, and twice in company with the + captain, but Edith refused to see her. Yet, after all, in spite of her + scorn for these people, and her conviction that they were in league with + Wiggins—in spite of the captain's brutality—it was not without + sorrow that Edith dismissed Mrs. Mowbray; for she looked upon her as a + kind of tie that bound her to the outer world, and until the last she had + hoped that some means might arise through these, if not of escape, at + least of communication with friends. + </p> + <p> + But she was cut off from these now more than ever; and what remained? + </p> + <p> + What? A prison-house! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — A NEW-COMER. + </h2> + <p> + It seemed now to Edith that her isolation was complete. She found herself + in a position which she had thought impossible in free England—a + prisoner in the hands of an adventurer, who usurped an authority over her + to which he had no right. His claim to exercise this authority in his + office of guardian she did not admit for a moment. She, the mistress of + Dalton Hall, was nothing more than a captive on her own estates. + </p> + <p> + She did not know how this could end or when it could end. Her hopes had + one by one given way. The greatest blow of all was that which had been + administered through the so-called letter of Miss Plympton. That letter + she believed to be a forgery, yet the undeniable fact remained that Miss + Plympton had done nothing. That Miss Plympton should write that letter, + however, and that she should leave her helpless at the mercy of Wiggins, + seemed equally improbable, and Edith, in her vain effort to comprehend it, + could only conclude that some accident had happened to her dear friend; + that she was ill, or worse. And if this was so, it would be to her the + worst blow of all. + </p> + <p> + Other hopes which she had formed had also been doomed to destruction. She + had expected something from the spontaneous sympathy of the outside world; + who, whatever their opinion about her father, would stir themselves to + prevent such an outrage upon justice as that which Wiggins was + perpetrating. But these hopes gradually died out. That world, she thought, + was perhaps ignorant not only of her situation, but even of her very + existence. The last hopes that she had formed had been in the Mowbrays, + and these had gone the way of all the others. + </p> + <p> + Nothing appeared before her in the way of hope, and her despondency was + often hard to endure. Still her strong spirit and high-toned nature + rendered it impossible for her to be miserable always. Added to this was + her perfect health, which, with one interruption, had sustained her amidst + the distresses of her situation. By her very disposition she was forced to + hope for the best. It must not be supposed that she was at all like + “Mariana in the moated grange.” She did not pine away. On the contrary, + she often felt a kind of triumph in the thought that she had thus far + shown the spirit of a Dalton. + </p> + <p> + There was an old legend in the Dalton family upon which great stress had + been laid for many generations, and this one stood out prominently among + all the stories of ancestral exploits which she had heard in her + childhood. One of the first Daltons, whose grim figure looked down upon + her now in the armor of a Crusader, had taken part in the great expedition + under Richard Coeur de Lion. It happened that he had the ill luck to fall + into the hands of the infidel, but as there were a number of other + prisoners, there was some confusion, and early one morning he managed to + seize a horse and escape. Soon he was pursued. He dashed over a wide plain + toward some hills that arose in the distance, where he managed to elude + his pursuers for a time, until he found refuge upon a cliff, where there + was a small place which afforded room for one or two. After some search + his pursuers discovered him, and ordered him to come down. He refused. + They then began an attack, shooting arrows from a distance, and trying to + scale the cliff. But Dalton's defense was so vigorous that by the end of + that day's fight he had killed eight of his assailants. Then the contest + continued. For two days, under a burning sun, without food or drink, the + stern old Crusader defended himself. When summoned to surrender he had + only one word, and that was, “Never!” It happened that a band of Crusaders + who were scouring the country caught sight of the Saracens, and made an + attack upon them, putting them to flight. They then sought for the object + of this extraordinary siege, and, climbing up, they saw a sight which + thrilled them as they gazed. For there lay stout old Michael Dalton, with + many wounds, holding a broken sword, and looking at them with delirious + eyes. He recognized no one, but tried to defend himself against his own + friends. It was with difficulty that they restrained him. They could not + remove him, nor was it necessary, for death was near; but till the last + his hand clutched the broken sword, and the only word he said was, + “Never!” The Crusaders waited till he was dead, and then took his remains + to the camp. The story of his defense, which was gathered from their + prisoners, rang through the whole camp, and always afterward the crest of + the Daltons was a bloody hand holding a broken sword, with the motto, + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + And so Edith took to her heart this story and this motto, and whenever she + looked at the grim old Crusader, she clinched her own little hand and + said, “Never!” + </p> + <p> + She determined to use what liberty she had; and since Wiggins watched all + her movements, to show him how unconcerned she was, she began to go about + the grounds, to take long walks in all directions, and whenever she + returned to the house, to play for hours upon the piano. Her determination + to keep up her courage had the effect of keeping down her despondency, and + her vigorous exercise was an unmixed benefit, so that there was a radiant + beauty in her face, and a haughty dignity that made her look like the + absolute mistress of the place. + </p> + <p> + What Wiggins felt or thought she did not know. He never came across her + path by any chance. Occasional glimpses of the ever-watchful Hugo showed + her that she was tracked with as jealous a vigilance as ever. She hoped, + however, that by her incessant activity something might result to her + advantage. + </p> + <p> + One day while she was strolling down the grand avenue she saw a stranger + walking up, and saw, to her surprise, that he was a gentleman. The face + was altogether unknown to her, and, full of hope, she waited for him to + come up. + </p> + <p> + “Have I the honor of addressing Miss Dalton?” said the stranger, as he + reached her. He spoke in a very pleasant but somewhat effeminate voice, + lifting his hat, and bowing with profound courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “I am Miss Dalton,” said Edith, wondering who the stranger might be. + </p> + <p> + He was quite a small, slight man, evidently young; his cheeks were + beardless; he had a thick dark mustache; and his small hands and feet gave + to Edith the idea of a delicate, fastidious sort of a man, which was + heightened by his very neat and careful dress. On the whole, however, he + seemed to be a gentleman, and his deep courtesy was grateful in the + extreme to one who had known so much rudeness from others. + </p> + <p> + His complexion was quite dark, his eyes were very brilliant and + expressive, and his appearance was decidedly effeminate. Edith felt a half + contempt for him, but in a moment she reflected how appearances may + mislead, for was not the magnificent Mowbray a villain and a coward? + </p> + <p> + “Allow me, Miss Dalton,” said he, “to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant + Dudleigh, of —— ——.” + </p> + <p> + “Dudleigh!” cried Edith, in great excitement. “Are you any relation to Sir + Lionel?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not very close. I belong to the same family, it is true; but Sir + Lionel is more to me than a relation. He is my best friend and + benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you know any thing about him?” cried Edith, in irrepressible + eagerness. “Can you tell me any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Dudleigh, with a smile. “I certainly ought to be able to do + that. I suppose I know as much about him as any one. But what is the + meaning of all this that I find here,” he continued, suddenly changing the + conversation—“that ruffian of a porter—the gates boarded up + and barred so jealously? It seems to me as if your friends should bring + pistols whenever they come to make a call.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh had a gay, open, careless tone. His voice was round and full, yet + still it was effeminate. In spite of this, however, Edith was, on the + whole, pleased with him. The remote relationship which he professed to + bear to Sir Lionel, his claim that Sir Lionel was his friend, and the name + that he gave himself, all made him seem to Edith like a true friend. Of + Sir Lionel and his family she knew nothing whatever; she knew not whether + he had ever had any children or not; nor did she ever know his + disposition; but she had always accustomed herself to think of him as her + only relative, and her last resort, so that this man's acquaintance with + him made him doubly welcome. + </p> + <p> + “What you mention,” said she, in answer to his last remark, “is a thing + over which I have not the smallest control. There is a man here who has + contrived to place me in so painful a position that I am a prisoner in my + own grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “A prisoner!” said Dudleigh, in a tone of the deepest surprise. “I do not + understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “He keeps the gates locked,” said Edith, “refuses to let me out, and + watches every thing that I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? I really can not understand you. No one has any right + to do that. How does he dare to do it? He couldn't treat you worse if he + were your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he pretends that he is my guardian, and declares that he has the + same right over me as if he were my father.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Dalton, what nonsense this is! You can not be in earnest—and + yet you must be.” + </p> + <p> + “In earnest!” repeated Edith, with vehemence. “Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh, + this is the sorrow of my life—so much so that I throw myself upon + the sympathy of a perfect stranger. I am desperate, and ready to do any + thing to escape—” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh, solemnly, “your wrongs must be great indeed + if this is so. Your guardian! But what then? Does that give him the right + to be your jailer?” + </p> + <p> + “He takes the right.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this man?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins? Wiggins? Why, it must be the steward. Wiggins? Why, I saw him + yesterday. Wiggins? What! That scoundrel? that blackleg? that villain who + was horsewhipped at Epsom? Why, the man is almost an outlaw. It seemed to + me incredible when I heard he was steward here; but when you tell me that + he is your guardian it really is too much. It must be some scoundrelly + trick of his—some forgery of documents.” + </p> + <p> + “So I believe,” said Edith, “and so I told him to his own face. But how + did you get in here? Wiggins never allows any one to come here but his own + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dudleigh, “I did have a little difficulty, but not much—it + was rather of a preliminary character. The fact is, I came here more than + a week ago on a kind of tour. I heard of Dalton Hall, and understood + enough of Sir Lionel's affairs to know that you were his niece; and as + there had been an old difficulty, I thought I couldn't do better than call + and see what sort of a person you were, so as to judge whether a + reconciliation might not be brought about. I came here three days ago, and + that beggar of a porter wouldn't let me in. The next day I came back, and + found Wiggins, and had some talk with him. He said something or other + about your grief and seclusion and so forth; but I knew the scoundrel was + lying, so I just said to him, 'See here now, Wiggins, I know you of old, + and there is one little affair of yours that I know all about—you + understand what I mean. You think you are all safe here; but there are + some people who could put you to no end of trouble if they chose. I'm + going in through those gates, and you must open them.' That's what I told + him, and when I came to-day the gates were opened for me. But do you + really mean to say that this villain prevents your going out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Surely you have not tried. You should assert your rights. But I suppose + your timidity would naturally prevent you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not timidity that prevents me. I have been desperate enough to do + any thing. I have tried. Indeed, I don't know what more I could possibly + do than what I have done.” She paused. She was not going to tell every + thing to a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh, fervently, “I can not express my joy at the + happy accident that has brought me here. For it was only by chance that I + came to Dalton, though after I came I naturally thought of you, as I said, + and came here.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” said Edith, “that it may seem strange to you for me to take you + into my confidence, after we have only interchanged a few words. But I + must do so. I have no alternative. I am desperate. I am the Dalton of + Dalton Hall, and I find myself in the power of a base adventurer. He + imprisons me. He sets spies to watch over me. He directs that ruffian at + the gates to turn away my friends, and tell them some story about my grief + and seclusion. I have not seen any visitors since I came.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was one family—the Mowbrays, of whom I need say + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “The Mowbrays?” said Dudleigh, with a strange glance. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any thing about them?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Miss Dalton; I prefer to say nothing about them.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means, I prefer to say nothing about them myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Dalton, I feel confounded and bewildered. I can not understand + you even yet. Do you really mean to say that you, the mistress of these + estates, the heiress, the lady of Dalton Hall—that <i>you</i> are + restricted in this way and by <i>him</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “It is all most painfully true,” said Edith. “It almost breaks my heart to + think of such a humiliation, but it is true. I have been here for months, + literally a prisoner. I have absolutely no communication with my friends, + or with the outside world. This man Wiggins declares that he is my + guardian, and can do as he chooses. He says that a guardian has as much + authority over his ward as a father over his child.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I think I understand. He may be partly right, after all. You are + young yet, you know. You are not of age.” + </p> + <p> + “I am of age,” said Edith, mournfully, “and that is what makes it so + intolerable. If I were under age I might bear it for a time. There might + then appear to be, at least, the show of right on his side. But as it is, + there is nothing but might. He has imprisoned me. He has put me under + surveillance. I am watched at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? where?” exclaimed Dudleigh, looking hastily around. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in the woods—a black named Hugo. He tracks me like a + blood-hound, and never loses sight of me when I am out. He may not hear + what we are saying, but he will tell his master that I have spoken with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there spies in the Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; his housekeeper watches me always.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no place where we can talk without being seen or heard? Believe + me, Miss Dalton, your situation fills me with grief and pity. All this is + so unexpected, so strange, so incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “We may, perhaps, be more free from observation in the Hall—at least + I think so. The drawing-room is better than this. Will you allow me to do + the honors of Dalton Hall?” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh bowed, and the two walked toward the Hall, and entering, + proceeded to the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “We are undoubtedly watched, even here,” said Edith, with a melancholy + smile, “but the watcher can not observe us very well, and has to stand too + far off to hear us easily, so that this room is perhaps better than + out-of-doors; at any rate, it is more convenient.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh, “I am glad beyond all that words can say + that I managed to get through your gates. My vague threats terrified + Wiggins, though in reality I have no knowledge about him sufficiently + definite to give me any actual power over him. I have only heard general + scandal, in which he was mixed up. But he has given me credit for knowing + something important. At any rate, now that I am here, let me do something + for you at once. Command me, and I will obey.” + </p> + <p> + “I want but one thing,” said Edith, “and that is to get out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you lead the way and let me follow? That is all I ask of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, and if you could only go out over my dead body, that price + should be paid, and you should go.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh spoke quickly, but with no particular earnestness. Indeed, in all + his tones there was a lack of earnestness. The words were excellent, but + they lacked depth and warmth. Edith, however, was too much excited by the + prospect of help to notice this. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need of that,” said she; “there is no real danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather think from the look of that ruffian at the gate that there will + be some such price,” said Dudleigh, carelessly. “If I had only brought my + pistols, all would be easy. Can it be managed? How shall we do it? Do you + think that you have nerve enough, Miss Dalton, to witness a fight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “If I had my pistols,” said Dudleigh, thoughtfully, “I might—But as + it is, if they, see you accompanying me, they will assemble in force.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, sadly, for she began to see difficulties. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you think that if you are with me the porter will open the gates?” + </p> + <p> + “He will not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must get out in some other way. Can you climb the wall? I might + climb and help you over.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but they would follow and prevent us.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh looked at the floor. Then he put his small gloved hand on his + forehead, and appeared for a few moments to be lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he at last, “I am at your service. Can you tell me + what I can do?—for to save my life I can think of nothing just now. + Give me my orders.” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked perplexed. She knew that this man could not force his way + unarmed through the gates. She did not feel inclined just yet to tell him + to arm himself and shoot any one dead who opposed him. She could not bear + to think of that. But here was Dudleigh, ready. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any fire-arms in the house?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Edith, “and, besides, I can not bear just yet to cause any + thing like bloodshed.” + </p> + <p> + “If not, then you can not get free at once. Can you wait one day, or two + days?” + </p> + <p> + “One or two days!” said Edith. “Oh yes; one or two weeks, or even months. + Only let me hope, and I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “You have this to comfort you, at any rate,” said Dudleigh, “that outside + the gates you have a friend. And now I will not intrude any longer. I must + go. But if you will allow me I will come back to-morrow. Meanwhile I will + try to think over what is best to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “You will promise,” said Edith, imploringly, “not to desert me?” + </p> + <p> + “Desert you? Never! On the honor of a gentleman!” cried Dudleigh; and as + he bowed his head there came over his face a very singular smile, which + Edith, however, did not see. + </p> + <p> + He then took his leave. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH + </h2> + <p> + Edith slept but little that night. The prospect of escape agitated her + whole being, and the new friend who had so unexpectedly appeared took up + all her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + He was a little man most certainly, and Edith already caught herself + thinking of him as “<i>Little Dudleigh</i>.” He had nothing whatever of + the hero about him. Mowbray, as far as appearances went, far surpassed her + new acquaintance in that respect. Still Edith felt bound to overlook or to + excuse his slight frame, and in the effort to do this she recalled all the + little men of history. She thought of a saying which she had once heard, + that “all great men are small men.” This sentiment included under the head + of little men Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, with others of + the same class, for the list had evidently been made up by one who was + himself a little man, and was anxious to enter a forcible protest against + the scorn of his bigger brethren. On the present occasion the list of + little heroes was so formidable that Edith was prepared to find in “Little + Dudleigh” all she wished. Still, in spite of his generous offers, and his + chivalrous proposal to put down his dead body for her to march over, she + did not feel for him that admiration which such heroism deserved; and she + even reproached herself for her lack of common gratitude, for in her high + spirits at the prospect of escape, she caught herself more than once + smiling at the recollection of “Little Dudleigh's” little ways, his + primness, and effeminacy. + </p> + <p> + At about ten o'clock on the following day “Little Dudleigh” came back. + </p> + <p> + “That beggar at the gate,” said he, after the usual greetings, “looks very + hard at me, but he doesn't pretend to hinder me from coming or going just + yet, though what he may do in time remains to be seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Edith, “you must manage to get me out before Wiggins has a + chance to prevent you from coming in.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “I MUST USE THESE, THEN."} + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Dudleigh. “Of course, Miss Dalton, as you may suppose, I + have been thinking of you ever since I left you, and planning a thousand + schemes. But I have made up my mind to this, and you must make up yours to + the same. I am sorry, but it can not be avoided. I mean <i>bloodshed</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Bloodshed!” said Edith, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is terrible to a lady to be the cause of bloodshed,” said + Dudleigh, quietly, “and if there were any other way I would find it out, + or you would know about it. But from what I have seen and heard, and from + what I know of Wiggins, I see that there is nothing left but to force our + way out, for the place is thoroughly guarded day and night.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Edith, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “If I take you out, I must—Are we overheard?” he asked, looking + cautiously around. + </p> + <p> + “I think not; at least not if you speak low.” + </p> + <p> + “I must use these, then,” said he, drawing a brace of pistols in a + careless way from his coat pocket, and showing them to Edith. + </p> + <p> + Edith recoiled involuntarily. Bloodshed, and perhaps death, the scandal + that would arise, arrest perhaps, or examination before magistrates—all + these thoughts came before her. She was brave, but things like these could + not be lightly faced. She was brave, but she could not decide just yet + that any man's life should be taken for the sake of her liberty. + </p> + <p> + “I can not bear that,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “You will get used to them,” said Dudleigh, cheerfully. “They are easy to + handle.” + </p> + <p> + “Put them back.” + </p> + <p> + “But what else is there to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know,” said Edith, in a dejected tone. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dudleigh, after a pause, “I thought of this. It is natural. I + anticipated some such objection as this on your part. I know very well + what it is that you fear, and I don't know but that you are right. Still, + I have other plans, which may not appear so objectionable. But in the + first place, let me know finally, do you positively and absolutely reject + this?” and he tapped the pistols significantly. + </p> + <p> + “I can not yet consent to risk any life,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; this may remain over until every thing else fails.” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't you use these pistols to terrify them? The sight might make + them open the gates.” + </p> + <p> + “But it might not, and what then? Are you prepared to answer that?” And + “Little Dudleigh,” who had been speaking about these things as lightly and + as carelessly as a lady would speak about a dress or the trimmings of a + bonnet, paused, and looked at her inquiringly. “The fact is,” he + continued, as Edith did not answer, “you must be willing to run the risk + of <i>killing a man</i>. Your liberty is worth this price. If you say to + me, 'Open those gates,' that is what you must encounter. Will you face it? + Say the word, and now, <i>now</i>, at this very moment, I will lead you + there.” + </p> + <p> + The offer of immediate escape was thus presented, and for a moment Edith + hesitated, but the cost was too great. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she cried, “this is terrible! But I will not consent. No, I will + suffer longer rather than pay so frightful a price as human life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dudleigh, “after all, since you have decided this way, I + think you are about right. After all, there is really no necessity for so + desperate a course. But I have a high idea of what a lady has a right to + demand of a gentleman, and I am ready to do what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have other plans, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but slow ones—safe but slow. The question is, can you wait? + Can you endure your present life? and how long?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather than cause the loss of life,” said Edith, “I would endure this + very much longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you will not have to endure it so very long. If you are not too + impatient, the time may pass quickly too. But before I make any further + proposals, will you allow me to ask you one question? It is this: Suppose + you were to escape to-day, where would you go?” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought about that,” said Edith. “My dearest friend is Miss + Plympton. She is the head of the school where I have spent the greater + part of my life. She is the one to whom I should naturally go, but she + keeps a boarding-school, and I do not wish to go there and meet my old + school-mates and see so many. I wish to be secluded. I have sometimes + thought of going to that neighborhood, and finding a home where I could + occasionally see Miss Plympton, and at other times I have thought of going + to my uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + At this last remark Dudleigh opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” he asked. “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “He is my uncle, you know,” said Edith—“that is, by marriage—and + therefore he is naturally the one to whom I should look for defense + against Wiggins. In that case Sir Lionel will be far better than poor dear + Auntie Plympton. I'm afraid that Wiggins has already frightened her away + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “But how would you get to Sir Lionel?” asked Dudleigh, with a puzzled + expression. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is what I want to find out. I have no idea where he lives. But + you can tell me all about him. I should have asked before, but other + things interfered. I will go to him. I feel confident that he will not + cast me off.” + </p> + <p> + “Cast you off! I should think not,” said Dudleigh; “but the difficulty is + how to find him. You can get to Dudleigh Manor easily enough—every + body knows where that is. But what then? Nobody is there.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Is not Sir Lionel there?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel there! I only wish he was. Why, is it possible that you do not + know that Sir Lionel is positively not in England? He travels all the + time, and only comes home occasionally. Perhaps you know the cause—his + family troubles ten years ago. He had a row with his wife then, and it has + blighted his life. Sir Lionel? Why, at this moment I dare say he is + somewhere among the Ural Mountains, or Patagonia, or some other equally + remote country. But who told you that he was in England?” + </p> + <p> + Edith was silent. She had taken it for granted that Sir Lionel lived in + his own home. + </p> + <p> + “Can I not write to him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if you can only secure his address; and that I will do my + utmost to find out for you. But to do this will be a work of time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” sighed Edith. + </p> + <p> + “And what can you do in the mean time? Where can you go?” + </p> + <p> + “There is Miss Plympton.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your teacher. And you don't wish to go to the school, but to some + private place near it. Now what sort of a woman is Miss Plympton? Bold and + courageous?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid not,” said Edith, after a thoughtful pause. “I know that she + loves me like a mother, and when I first came here I should have relied on + her to the utmost. But now I don't know. At any rate, I think she can be + easily terrified.” And Edith went on to tell about Miss Plympton's letter + to her, and subsequent silence. + </p> + <p> + “I think with you,” said Dudleigh, after Edith had ended, “that the letter + is a forgery. But what is difficult to understand is this apparent + desertion of you. This may be accounted for, however, in one of two ways. + First, Wiggins may actually have seen her, and frightened her in some way. + You say she is timid. The other explanation of her silence is that she may + be ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Ill!” exclaimed Edith, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “It may be so.” + </p> + <p> + “May she not all this time have been trying to rescue me, and been + baffled?” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no. If she had tried at all you would have heard something about it + before this; something would certainly have been done. The claim of + Wiggins would have been contested in a court of law. Oh no; she has + evidently done nothing. In fact, I think that, sad as it may seem to you, + there can be no doubt about her illness. You say she left you here. No + doubt she felt terrible anxiety. The next day she could not see you. Her + love for you, and her anxiety, would, perhaps, be too much for her. She + may have been taken home ill.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sighed. The picture of Miss Plympton's grief was too much for her. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” said she, “if I can't find any friends—if Sir Lionel + is gone, and poor dear auntie is ill, I can be free. I can help nurse her. + Any life is better than this; and I can put my case in the hands of the + lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, of course, well supplied with money,” said Dudleigh, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; so as to travel, you know, and live, and pay your lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no money,” said Edith, helplessly; “that is, not more than a few + sovereigns. I did not think of that.” + </p> + <p> + “No money?” + </p> + <p> + “No—only a little.” + </p> + <p> + “No money! Why, how is that? No money? Why, what can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins manages every thing, and has all the money.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never obtained any from him as yet, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never needed any.” + </p> + <p> + “He spends your own money in paying these spies and jailers. But if you + have no money, how can you manage to live, even if you do escape?” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked down in despair. The idea of money had never entered her + mind. Yet now, since it was mentioned, she felt its importance. Yes, money + was the chief thing; without that flight was useless, and liberty + impossible. But how could she get it? Wiggins would not give her any. And + where could she go? Could she go to Miss Plympton's, to be a dependent + upon her at the school? That thought was intolerable. Much as she loved + Miss Plympton, she could not descend to that. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly not very practical,” said Dudleigh, “or your first + thought would have been about this. But you have none, you say, and so it + can not be remedied. Is there any thing else? You see you can escape; but + what then?” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh was silent, and Edith looked at him in deep suspense. + </p> + <p> + “You say you never see Wiggins now?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not subject to insults?” + </p> + <p> + “No—to none.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you the Hall to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; I am not interfered with. As long as I stay inside the Hall I am + left to myself—only I am watched, of course, as I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but, at any rate, it seems a sort of honorable captivity. You + are not like a captive in a dungeon, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather be here, as you are, or at Miss Plympton's school as a + sort of dependent?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, of course. I could not go back there, and face them all.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather live here or in some mean lodging, without money to pay + your board?” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Edith, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “There are worse situations in the world than this, then?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so,” said Edith, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “By leaving this just now you would be doing worse, then?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, may it not be better for you to remain here, for the present + at least, until you hear something from Sir Lionel Dudleigh?” + </p> + <p> + “But how long will that be?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly the first thing for you to do is to see a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can I?” + </p> + <p> + “I can find one.” + </p> + <p> + “But will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I shall be most happy. Only answer me this: If a lawyer takes + up your case, shall you be willing to live here, or shall you insist on + leaving?” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer leaving,” said Edith; “but at the same time, if a lawyer + has my case, and I can feel that something is being done, I can be content + here, at least for a time, until I hear from Sir Lionel—or Miss + Plympton.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, for the present at least, you give up the idea of fighting + your way out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all that I have to do is to get a lawyer for you, and write to Sir + Lionel, wherever he is.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not let Wiggins keep my lawyer away?” said Edith, in an + imploring voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I fancy he has such a wholesome dread of lawyers that he won't try to + keep one out. At any rate, these lawyers have all kinds of ways, you know, + of getting places.” + </p> + <p> + “And of getting people out of places, too, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be sorry not to hope that.” + </p> + <p> + So Edith found herself compelled to face the difficulties of her present + situation a little longer, and endure as best she could the restraint of + her imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — A WARNING. + </h2> + <p> + The barriers which Wiggins had raised between Edith and the outer world + had thus been surmounted by two persons—first, Mowbray, and second, + Little Dudleigh. Mowbray had come and gone without any sign of objection + or remonstrance from her jailer; and now Edith could not help wondering at + the facility with which the new-comer, Dudleigh, passed and repassed those + jealously guarded limits. Dudleigh's power arose from some knowledge of + the past history of Wiggins, but the knowledge did not seem very definite, + and she could not help wondering how long his visits would be tolerated. + </p> + <p> + She was not left to wonder long. On the evening of the day on which + Dudleigh had made his last visit Wiggins came to see her. She had not seen + him since that time when he had brought her the so-called letter of Miss + Plympton, except once when she had caught a glimpse of him when riding + with Mowbray. He now entered in his usual manner, with his solemn face, + his formal bow, his abstracted gaze. He sat down, and for a few moments + said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I do not often inflict my presence on you, Miss Dalton,” said he at + length. “I have too much regard for you to intrude upon you. Some day you + will understand me, and will appreciate my present course. It is only for + your own sake that I now come, because I see that you are thoughtless and + reckless, and are living under a delusion. You are almost beyond my + control, yet I still hope that I may have some faint influence over you—or + at least I can try.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was gentle and affectionate. It was, in fact, paternal in its + character; but this tone, instead of softening Edith, only seemed to her a + fresh instance of his arrogant assumption, and, as such, excited her + contempt and indignation. These feelings, however, she repressed for the + moment, and looked at him with a cold and austere face. + </p> + <p> + “You have been receiving visitors,” he continued, “visitors whom I could + have kept away if I had—chosen. But to do so would have interfered + with my plans, and so I have tolerated them. You, however, have been all + along under such a—mistake—about me—and my intentions—that + you have thrown yourself upon these strangers, and have, I grieve to say, + endangered your own future, and mine, more than you can possibly imagine. + Your first visitor was objectionable, but I tolerated him for reasons that + I need not explain; but this last visitor is one who ought not to be + tolerated either by you or by me. And now I come to you to give you—a—an + affectionate warning—to ask of you not to be so reckless, so + careless of your best interests, so blind to the great issues that are at + stake in—a—my—present plans.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to me,” said Edith, coldly “to have some reference to + Lieutenant Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what he calls himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Calls himself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. This name Dudleigh is an assumed one. He took that so as to gain + your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to know him very well.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, then, that this name is assumed?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I happen to know the Dudleigh family, and this man does not + belong to it. I never saw him before.” + </p> + <p> + “There are more Dudleighs in the world than the family you speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “He is an adventurer,” said Wiggins. “You know nothing about him. I + believe his name is false, as he himself is false. Does he not pretend to + be the son of Sir Lionel?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he says that he is only a distant relation to Sir Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + “He is no relation whatever,” said Wiggins. “You are allowing yourself to + be led astray by a man of whom you know nothing—a designing villain, + an adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange that you should apply such terms to a man of whom you + yourself acknowledge that you know nothing. But, at any rate,” continued + Edith, with strong emphasis, “<i>he knows you</i>. It is this knowledge + that gives him the power of passing through those gates which you shut + against me; what that knowledge may be you yourself know best.” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know me,” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “He must,” said Edith, “for the simple reason that you dare not keep him + out.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time. + </p> + <p> + “It is a terrible ordeal for me,” said he at last, in a slow, measured + tone, “to talk with you. You seem to me like one who is mad; but it is the + madness of utter ignorance. You do not know. Oh, how you tempt me to tell + you all! But I can not, I can not. My lips are sealed as yet. But I will + say no more on that. I will ask you one question only. It is this: Can you + not see with your own eyes that this man is nothing more than a mere + adventurer?” + </p> + <p> + “An adventurer!” repeated Edith, indignantly. “It ill becomes one like you + to use such a word as that. For what are you yourself? Lieutenant Dudleigh + is a gentleman; and though I have only known him for a short time, I am + happy in calling him my friend. I will tolerate no abuse of him. Why do + you not say this to his face? If he is what you say, why do you allow him + to come here? An adventurer? Why, that is the very name I apply in all my + thoughts to you!” + </p> + <p> + A look of anguish came over the face of Wiggins. He trembled violently, + but with an effort mastered his feelings. Evidently what he said was true, + and to him it was a severe ordeal to carry on a conversation with Edith. + Her scorn, her anger, and her hate all flamed forth so vehemently that it + was hard to endure. + </p> + <p> + “If you could only refrain from these bitter insults!” said he, in a + mournful voice. “If you could only put a check upon yourself when you talk + with me! I wish to speak calmly, but you hurl taunts at me that inflict + exquisite pain. The remembrance of them will one day give no less anguish + to you, believe me—oh, believe me! Spare me these taunts and + insults, I entreat you, for the sake of both of us!” + </p> + <p> + “Both of us?” repeated Edith, without being in the slightest degree + affected by the words of Wiggins. “Both of us? You seem to me to be + including yourself and me in the same class, as though there could be any + thing in common between me and one like you. That is impossible. Our + interests are forever separate.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know,” said Wiggins, with a great effort to be calm. “This man—this + Lieutenant Dudleigh, as he calls himself—is an enemy to both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You use that expression with strange pertinacity. I must tell you again + that there can not possibly be any thing in common between you and me. For + my part, I consider you as my natural enemy. You are my jailer. I am your + prisoner. That is all. I am at war with you. I would give half of my + possessions to escape from your hands, and the other half to punish you + for what you have done. I live in the hope of some day meting out to you + the punishment which your crimes deserve. If any one is an enemy of yours, + that one thing is a sufficient recommendation to make him a friend of + mine.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Wiggins seemed to endure a keener anguish, and his face + bore upon it the same pallid horror which she had seen there before upon a + similar provocation. He stared at her for a few moments, and then bowing + down, he leaned his head upon his hand and looked at the floor in silence. + At last, he raised his head and looked at her with a calm face. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no possible way,” said he, “in which I can speak to you without + receiving wounds that sting like the fangs of a serpent? Be patient with + me. If I offend, try to be a little forbearing just now, for the sake of + yourself, if for nothing else. See, I am humbling myself. I ask your + forbearance. I wish to speak for your own good. For, as it is, you are + doing you know not what. You are ruining yourself; you are blighting and + blasting your own future; you are risking your reputation; you are + exposing the family name to the sneers of the world, once again. Think of + your frantic adventure at the gates with that—that Mowbray!” + </p> + <p> + Now if Wiggins had wished to mollify Edith, or to persuade her to fall in + with his own wishes, he was certainly most unfortunate in his way of going + about it; and especially in such an allusion as this. For no sooner did he + mention the name of Mowbray than Edith was roused to a fresh excitement. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed. “Do <i>you</i> throw that up to <i>me</i>—you + of all men? Who, I ask you, was the cause of all the shame and misery and + violence that I suffered there? Who was the one that made it necessary? + Who was the one that brought me to such a pitch of desperation that I was + ready to do any thing, however wild or frantic? Who? Why, you yourself—you, + who come to me now, and with a solemn voice ask me to calm myself. Is it + not possible for you to see what a horrible mockery all this must be to + me? But I will do what you ask. I will be calm in spite of all. Come, now, + I will meet you on your own ground. I will ask you one thing. How much + money will you take to let me go free?” + </p> + <p> + At this request Wiggins stared at her with the expression of one who, + while already reeling under a stroke, has received some new blow. He + started from his chair to his feet, and stood for a moment regarding her + with an indescribable look. But again he mastered his emotions, and + finally resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to say to you!” he exclaimed. “I came to advise you, + and to warn you. I have done every thing. There is one thing which would + put an end to all this misery which you inflict on me, but that one thing + I wish on no account to say just now. I can not just yet give up the hope + that has cheered me for so long a time; still, I must warn you. Rash girl, + you have already suffered from this Mowbray, as he calls himself. Do you + not see that this new visitor, this so-called Dudleigh, is nothing else + than the ally, the associate, the partner, the emissary of Mowbray?” + </p> + <p> + “The associate of Mowbray,” said Edith, quietly, “is yourself. You sent + him to me, I have no doubt. You have your own schemes. What they are I do + not know, nor do I care to know. As for Lieutenant Dudleigh, he is, I feel + sure, an honorable gentleman, and his associates are far, very far + different from such as you and Mowbray. He is the friend of one whom I + also regard now as my only friend—one whom I never cease to pray to + reach—one whom I hope yet to find, and by his help escape from your + infamous control, and punish you for all your villainy toward me and + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What is this? What do you mean? A friend?” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins uttered these words in a bewildered way. + </p> + <p> + “The friend whom I hope to reach,” said Edith, “the one to whom I look for + vengeance on you, is Sir Lionel Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel Dudleigh!” repeated Wiggins, with a groan. + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Lionel Dudleigh!” said Edith. “I see that you are agitated at + the mention of that name—the name of an honorable man—a man of + stainless name, who has nothing in common with such as you. Let me tell + you that the time will yet come when you shall have to meet Sir Lionel + Dudleigh face to face, and then you will have reason to tremble!” + </p> + <p> + At this Wiggins rose. He did not look at Edith. He did not say a word. He + seemed overwhelmed. His head was bowed down on his breast; his eyes were + fixed on the floor; and he walked with a slow and weary pace out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “It was the threat of Sir Lionel Dudleigh,” thought Edith, “that terrified + him. He knows that the time is coming when he will have to give an + account; and he fears Sir Lionel Dudleigh more than any other living man.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: DEAR LITTLE DUDLEIGH} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — LITTLE DUDLEIGH. + </h2> + <p> + Little Dudleigh now came to the Hall nearly every day, and devoted himself + to Edith. In spite of his devotion, however, her admiration for him never + rose to a very high pitch. There was something about the little man which + was too prim and precise—an indescribable something which made her + feel a half contempt, against which it was difficult to struggle even by + keeping her mind fixed on his valuable services. His little particular + ways were more appropriate to a woman than to a man, and excited her + impatience. Still she felt that he must have plenty of courage, for had he + not offered to risk his life, and had he not come armed and prepared to + force a way for her out of the park? + </p> + <p> + Edith, like all generous natures, was frank and confiding. She was + warm-hearted, impulsive, and quick to show gratitude. After the society of + the Mowbrays, she found that of Little Dudleigh an inexpressible relief. + What struck her most about him was his unvarying calmness. He must have + some personal regard for her, she was sure, for on what other grounds + would he come to see her so incessantly, and spend so much time with her? + Yet he never showed much of this in his manner. He frequently paid + compliments, and alluded to his willingness to do any thing to serve her; + but he seldom indulged in sentiment. He never showed any approach to the + tenderness of love. On the whole Edith was immensely relieved at this, for + the little man was one whom she could cordially appreciate as a + disinterested friend, but whose approach toward gallantry or sentiment + would have been repugnant in the extreme. + </p> + <p> + Little Dudleigh certainly exerted all his powers to make himself + agreeable, and not without success. For Edith, who was naturally of a + radiant temper, was now in high spirits at her brightening prospects, and + it was easy to amuse her. Dudleigh had innumerable stories to tell of + London life, and these stories referred almost exclusively to the theatre. + He appeared to be intimately acquainted with all the “professional” world, + and more particularly with the actresses. His stories about them were + generally of a light, gossiping character, referring to their petty + failings, jealousies, and weaknesses, and seemed like the malicious tales + which actresses tell about one another. Still none of them were at all + unfit for a lady's ear, and in all of them there was some absurdity which + compensated for their maliciousness. Little Dudleigh seemed to understand + most thoroughly the female nature, its excellences and its defects, its + strength and its weaknesses. In his anecdotes about men he was never so + successful. His familiarity with women's ways was quite remarkable, and + extended even to the smallest details of dress and ornament. His whole + manner put Edith singularly at her ease, and she sometimes caught herself + speaking to him almost as she used to speak to her fellow school-girls. + </p> + <p> + Little Dudleigh's society thus became quite agreeable, and Edith looked + forward each day to his appearance with something like impatience. There + was, after all, every reason why she should enjoy it. She had no other + associate, and this one upon whom she was thrown exerted all his powers + for the sole purpose of pleasing her. + </p> + <p> + There was very little of any thing like enthusiasm about Little Dudleigh, + and in this respect he differed very widely from Edith. She would go into + raptures over every beautiful scene. A brilliant sky, a rich landscape, a + quiet woodland view, all served to excite her admiring comments. Little + Dudleigh, however, showed no such feeling. He confessed himself + indifferent to natural scenery, and partial only to city life; and while + he acknowledged the beauty of the place, he yet declared that he found + more to admire in a drawing-room or a theatre. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the little man had not been idle. On his first visit after the + conversation last detailed he informed Edith that he had written to + London, making inquiries about Sir Lionel. A few days afterward he showed + Edith a letter which he said he had received from Sir Lionel's London + solicitors. The writer stated that he did not know where Sir Lionel was, + but that he would write to a firm in Marseilles, who were his bankers and + agents. The opinion of the writer was that the baronet was somewhere about + the Mediterranean. This intelligence was rather distressing to Edith, but + she had been prepared for something of the kind; and as Little Dudleigh + encouraged her, and pointed out many reasons for hope, she took heart and + hoped for the best. + </p> + <p> + According to Little Dudleigh, Sir Lionel was always traveling. During ten + or twelve years he said that he had not been in England more than three or + four times. It was on one of these occasions that he had met with him, and + had received from him certain acts of kindness which made him grateful to + his benefactor. Sir Lionel, he said, had been a great traveler, having + been through every part of Europe and America, and most of Asia. He was + constantly roving about to different places, sometimes by land, at other + times in his own yacht. This, he thought, must be the reason why Edith had + never heard from him. Personally he was most kind-hearted and generous, + and if he only knew the situation in which she was, he would fly to her + assistance. + </p> + <p> + Little Dudleigh also alluded in a general way to Sir Lionel's family + troubles. The quarrel with his wife, he said, had broken up the baronet's + life, and made him a wanderer. He knew nothing about the cause, but had + heard that Lady Dudleigh had been very much to blame, and had deserted her + husband under very painful circumstances. It was this that had made the + unhappy husband a wanderer. Lady Dudleigh, he thought, had died years ago. + </p> + <p> + Such was the state of things, according to Little Dudleigh, and Edith had + only to make up her mind to wait until something more definite was known. + In the mean time, however, Little Dudleigh had not been unmindful of Miss + Plympton, but wrote a letter to her, which he showed to Edith. Edith also + wrote one, which was inclosed in his. Several weeks passed away, but no + reply was received, and this silence distressed Edith greatly. At length, + when she had lost all hope of hearing from her dear friend, a reply came. + It was written from Italy, and Edith read it with feelings of mingled + amazement and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + It was written in a strange hand, and informed Lieutenant Dudleigh that + his letter and inclosure had been forwarded from Plympton Terrace, where + it had been first sent, to Miss Plympton's present abode at Nice; and went + on to say that Miss Plympton had come back from Dalton care-worn by + anxiety and fatigue, that a severe illness had been the result, and that + she had been sent to the south of France. The writer stated that she was + still too feeble to undergo any excitement, and therefore that Lieutenant + Dudleigh's letter and inclosure had not been shown her. As soon as Miss + Plympton's health would admit of it the letters would be given to her. It + was uncertain how long she would remain at Nice. They were thinking now of + taking her to Germany or Switzerland. The school had been broken up for + the present. This letter was signed by “Adèle Swinburne,” who said that + she was Miss Plympton's “attendant.” It was a name that Edith had never + heard of before. + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to Edith to question for one moment the authenticity of + this letter. She accepted it all as truth, and was filled with grief. Miss + Plympton, then, had not been forgetful. She had done what she could, and + this illness was the result. It seemed now to Edith that the climax of her + sorrows had been reached in the sufferings and exile of her only friend. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Miss Dalton,” said Little Dudleigh, after a long silence, in + which he had watched her with respectful sympathy, “what do you wish to + do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that I shall have to rely upon you altogether,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “You want something to be done as soon as possible, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course—most earnestly.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, then, that both Sir Lionel and Miss Plympton are quite out of + our reach. If you wish for deliverance you must try something else.” + </p> + <p> + “What else can I try?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the law.” + </p> + <p> + “The law? Of course, that is just what I wish.” + </p> + <p> + “It is tedious, remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I can only make a beginning, I can wait. It isn't my life here, or + even my imprisonment, that is intolerable so much as my helplessness, and + the thought that I am doing nothing, and the impunity with which this + wretched Wiggins carries out his purposes. If I could only know that the + affair was in the hands of a lawyer, I should feel content.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, women have a great faith in lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, there most be something in the law, although it is often + baffled.” + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be, certainly; but of course you must be prepared to have + your suit resisted. Wiggins will also have lawyers, and the ablest ones + that he can find.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must get better ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “And immediately, too, without waiting any longer,” said Edith, + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will get you one as soon as possible, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh,” said Edith, with deep emotion, “you have claims on + my gratitude which I can never repay.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the happiest moment of my life,” said Little Dudleigh, with greater + animation than usual, “since I have heard you say that. But don't speak of + gratitude. Say, at the most, friendship. If you will only accept my humble + services, they are all yours, and my life too, if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Edith, with a smile, “there will be no danger to your life now, + you know, if I put my case in the hands of lawyers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, talking of lawyers,” said Little Dudleigh, “since you have + made up your mind to this, it will be necessary to be very cautious in + choosing one.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have the best counsel in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, for Wiggins will be on the alert. With him every thing is at + stake. If he loses, it will be absolute ruin. In the course of the trial + his whole past life must come up.” + </p> + <p> + “And it ought to come up,” said Edith, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “We must, as you say, have the best counsel in England. An ordinary man + might ruin all. You must get the best lawyer in London. And now I would + not advise you to choose the most eminent one there, for fear lest the + multitude of his engagements might prevent him from giving to your case + the attention which it requires. You want some one who will give his whole + soul to the case—some shrewd, deep, wily, crafty man, who + understands thoroughly all the ins and outs of law, and can circumvent + Wiggins in every way.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't like these wily lawyers,” said Edith, doubtfully. “I prefer + honorable men.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, as friends, no doubt you do; but you are not now seeking + for a friend. You are on the look-out for a servant, or, rather, for one + who can fight your battle best, and deal the best and surest blows upon + Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sure I don't know,” said Edith, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Now I'll tell you what I'll do, if you'll consent,” said Little Dudleigh. + “I'll go to London and seek out the right man myself. There is no use in + writing letters. I must go and explain the thing personally.” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh,” said Edith, in deep emotion, “I do not know what to + say. You really overwhelm me with kindnesses. I can only say that you have + earned my life-long gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Little Dudleigh shook his head deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he, in a tone of respectful devotion, “the favor is + all yours, and the pleasure is all mine. Believe me, I feel happy beyond + expression at being able to do any thing for you.” + </p> + <p> + And after some further conversation, Little Dudleigh took his leave. + </p> + <p> + “How noble and generous he is!” thought Edith, as she watched him walk + down the avenue. “Dear Little Dudleigh, what a pity it is that he is not a + few inches taller!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — THE MAN OF LAW. + </h2> + <p> + The departure of Dudleigh left Edith to the monotony of her solitary life. + If Dudleigh had desired to win her affections, he could certainly have + chosen no better way of doing so, for by this course he made himself + greatly missed, and caused Edith to count the days in her impatience for + his return. In her loneliness she could not help recalling the hours she + had passed with her agreeable visitor, and thus was forced to give him a + large portion of her thoughts. His connection with Sir Lionel seemed of + itself a recommendation of the strongest kind, and all that he had done + for her, and was still doing, filled her generous soul with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + Thinking thus about him, she recalled his whole manner and appearance. The + worst that could be said against him was that he was effeminate. But at + any rate that was better than being brutal. Otherwise he was frank and + engaging and clever and gentlemanly. He had evidently a high sense of + honor. He was devoted to her. From the first time when he had heard her + story down to the present moment he had not ceased to think for her and to + work for her. Even now he had gone to London to obtain for her what she + most wanted—the assistance of the law. + </p> + <p> + All these things made him appear in a more favorable light than ever. She + recalled his heroism and devotion. She considered that he had done as much + as if he had laid down his life for her, since he had offered to do so, + and had only been prevented by her prohibition. Little Dudleigh, then, she + thought, with his slight frame and small hands, had more real manhood than + a hundred such big brutes as Mowbray. If he is not a true man, who is? + Could she ever hope again to find so devoted a friend? Impossible. He had + come to her in her very darkest hour; he eagerly espoused her cause, and + had devoted himself with all his soul to her interests. What more could + she wish than this? + </p> + <p> + For several weeks Dudleigh remained away, and Edith grew excessively + impatient. She began to fear for his safety. In her anxiety she sometimes + imagined that Wiggins might have caused some harm to fall on him in + London. She recalled all the dangers of the London streets, of which she + had read in various works of fiction, and imagined Wiggins hiring some + cut-throat to follow him, assassinate him at the first opportunity, and + throw his body into the river. She imagined that some ruffian, hired of + course by Wiggins, might tempt him to take a friendly glass, drug his + liquor, and then dispose of his victim in the same convenient river. Then + her mood changed, and she laughed at the absurdity of such fears, for she + well knew that he must be perfectly familiar with London life and the + London streets, so that any thing of this kind was nonsensical. Then she + thought that perhaps no lawyer would undertake her case without money + being paid at once. In fact, all the fears that could be suggested by an + uneasy mind and a very vivid imagination came crowding before here as the + time passed by and Dudleigh did not return. + </p> + <p> + But at last all her fears came to an end. One morning, at the usual hour, + she saw his well-known figure approaching the house. In her eager joy she + hurried at once down stairs, and could scarcely prevent herself from + running down the avenue to meet him. It was with difficulty that she + controlled herself, and waited for him in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Little Dudleigh entered with his usual calmness and self-possession. Edith + greeted him with the warmest welcome. + </p> + <p> + “But you come alone,” she said, in a tone of disappointment. “You have not + been successful.” + </p> + <p> + “In one sense,” said he, “I have been most successful, for I have found + the very man I wanted. I had to wait for him, though. He was in Lyons when + I reached London, and I went over for him and brought him here.” + </p> + <p> + “Lyons!” exclaimed Edith. “Why, that's in France. Did you really go over + to France?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Dudleigh, calmly. “I set forth on a certain purpose, and I + am not in the habit of giving up what I undertake to do. Besides, you + forget for whom that business was undertaken and the impulse that drove me + forward.” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked at the floor and said nothing. She felt under such + obligations to him that she hardly knew what to say. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to have brought the lawyer here at once,” he continued, + “but did not. He is now in this neighborhood, however. The reason why I + did not bring him now was because I wished first to see Wiggins myself. He + must be prepared, or he may make trouble. I wish to frighten him into + allowing him to pass. I shall have to make up some plausible story, + however, to account for his visiting you. I have not yet decided on what + it shall be. I think, however, that the lawyer had better come here alone. + You will, of course, know that he is to be trusted. You may say to him, in + fact, whatever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “But wouldn't it be better for you to be present also?” said Edith. “I may + require your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Miss Dalton. I assure you I value most highly every expression + of your confidence. But I think it will be better for you to see him + alone. He will give you his card. His name is Barber. If I were to come + with him, Wiggins might suspect. At the same time, I don't know, after + all, but that I may change my mind and come with him. But in any case you + may talk to him freely. He has not been idle, for he has already mastered + your whole situation. You may trust him just as much as you trust me. You + may, in fact, regard him the same as me.” + </p> + <p> + “And he will be here to-morrow?” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you hate expressions of gratitude,” said Edith, after a pause; + “but I can only say that my own gratitude is beyond expression. You have + given me hope—” + </p> + <p> + “Say nothing about it,” said Dudleigh, interrupting her. “That will be the + best thanks, though really I have done nothing to merit thanks. Duty and + honor both impelled me to serve you, without mentioning—any—a—deeper + and stronger feeling.” + </p> + <p> + Edith again looked at the floor. She suspected the existence of this + stronger feeling and did not altogether like to think of it. Her own + feelings toward him were singularly cool, and she did not wish him to be + otherwise. His general calmness of demeanor was very pleasant to her, and + his occasional allusions to any deeper sentiment than common, few though + they were, troubled her greatly. What if he should seek as his reward that + which he surely had a right to hope for—her hand? Could she give it? + On the other hand, could she have the heart to refuse it? The alternative + was not pleasant. + </p> + <p> + On the following day, while Edith was waiting in great impatience, a + stranger came to the Hall to call upon her. + </p> + <p> + The stranger was a small-sized man, with round shoulders, gray hair, bushy + eyebrows, and sallow skin. He wore spectacles, his clothes were of good + material, but rather loose fit, betokening one who was indifferent to + dress. His boots were loose, his gloves also, and an umbrella which he + carried, being without a band, had a baggy appearance, which was quite in + keeping with the general style of this man's costume. He looked to Edith + so much like a lawyer that she could not help wondering at the + completeness with which one's profession stamps itself upon the exterior. + </p> + <p> + “I am sent,” said the stranger, after a brief, stiff salutation, “by + Lieutenant Dudleigh, to communicate with you about your present position. + I take it for granted that we shall not be overheard, and propose to carry + on this conversation in as low a tone as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, the stranger took a quick, sharp glance through his + spectacles around the room. + </p> + <p> + His voice was dry and thin, his manner abrupt and stiff and business-like. + Evidently he was a dried-up lawyer, whose whole life had been passed among + parchments. + </p> + <p> + Edith assured him that from where they were sitting they could not be + overheard if they spoke in a moderately low voice. This appeared to + satisfy the stranger, and after another survey of the room, he drew forth + from his breast pocket a wallet filled with papers—a well-worn, fat, + business-like wallet—and taking from this a card, he rose stiffly + and held this toward Edith. She took it, and glancing over it read the + address: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HENRY BARBER, + SOLICITOR, + Inner Temple, London. +</pre> + <p> + Edith bowed. “Lieutenant Dudleigh told me your name,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said he, “let us proceed to business, for my time is limited. + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh,” he began, “has already explained to me, in a + general way, the state of your affairs. He found me at Lyons, where I was + engaged in some important business, and made me come to England at once. + He directed me verbally, though not formally or in proper order, to + investigate as much as I could about your affairs before coming here, and + requested me to consider myself as your solicitor. That, I suppose, is + quite correct, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Under these circumstances,” continued Barber, “I at once went to the + proper quarter, and investigated the will of your late father; for your + whole position, as you must be aware, depends upon that. Of course no will + can deprive you of your lawful inheritance in real estate, which the law + of the country secures to you and yours forever; but yet it may surround + you with certain restrictions more or less binding. Now it was my object + to see about the nature of these restrictions, and so understand your + peculiar position.” + </p> + <p> + Here Barber paused, and taking out his wallet, drew from it a slip of + paper on which he had penciled some memoranda. + </p> + <p> + “In the multiplicity of my legal cares, Miss Dalton,” he continued, “I + find it necessary to jot down notes with reference to each individual + case. It prevents confusion and saves time, both of which are, to a + lawyer, considerations of the utmost moment. + </p> + <p> + “And now, with reference to your case, first of all, the will and the + business of the guardianship—let us see about that. According to + this will, you, the heir, are left under the care of two guardians for a + certain time. One of these guardians is on the spot. The other is not. + Each of these men has equal powers. Each one of these is trustee for you, + and guardian of you. But one has no power superior to the other. This is + what the will distinctly lays down. Of course, Miss Dalton, you will + perceive that the first necessary thing is to know this, What are the + powers of a guardian? Is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Edith bowed. The mention of two guardians had filled her with eager + curiosity, but she repressed this feeling for the present, so as not to + interrupt the lawyer in his speech. + </p> + <p> + “What, then, are the powers of a guardian? To express this in the simplest + way, so that you can understand those powers perfectly, a guardian stands, + as the law has it, <i>in loco parentis</i>—which means that he is + the same as a father. The father dies; he perpetuates his authority by + handing it over to another. He is not dead, then. The <i>man</i> dies, but + the <i>father</i> lives in the person of the guardian whom he may have + appointed. Such,” said Mr. Barber, with indescribable emphasis—“such, + Miss Dalton, is the LAW. You must know,” he continued, “that the law is + very explicit on the subject of guardianship. Once make a man a guardian + and, as I have remarked, he forthwith stands <i>in loco parentis</i>, and + the ward is his child in the eye of the LAW. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, in a despondent tone. She felt disappointment and + discouragement at hearing all this, and could only hope that there would + be something yet which would open better prospects. + </p> + <p> + “Such, then, are the powers of a guardian,” continued Barber. “They are + very strong, and that will, by giving you guardians, has tied you up.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am of age,” said Edith, meekly. + </p> + <p> + Barber waved his hand slightly. “That,” said he, “is a point which I shall + consider presently. Just now I will say this—that the framer of that + will considered all these points, and arranged that the guardianship + should continue until such time as you might obtain another guardian of + another kind, before whom all others are powerless.” + </p> + <p> + “But who are my guardians?” asked Edith, in great excitement, unable any + longer to repress her curiosity. “One is Wiggins, I know. Who is the + other?” + </p> + <p> + “One,” said Barber, “is, as you say, John Wiggins; the other is Sir Lionel + Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel Dudleigh!” exclaimed Edith, while a feeling of profound + satisfaction came to her. “Oh, how glad I am!” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed a good thing that it is so,” said Barber; “but, + unfortunately, he can not at present be of service. For where is he? He is + in parts unknown. He is out of the country. He is, for the present, the + same as though he were dead. It is not probable that he has heard of your + father's death, or of the existence of this will, unless, indeed, Mr. + Wiggins has taken the trouble to find out where he is, and send him the + information. That, however, is not likely. How, then, is it with you? You + have, in point of fact, at the present time virtually but <i>one guardian</i>. + He is here on the spot. He is exerting his authority, and you assert, I + think, that he subjects you to a sort of imprisonment. Miss Dalton, he has + a right to do this.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Barber was silent for a moment, and looked at Edith, and then + at the floor. On the other hand she looked steadfastly at him; but her + hand trembled, and an expression of utter hopelessness came over her face. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all that you have to tell me?” she said at last, in a despairing + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, Miss Dalton,” said Barber—“certainly not. I have + much more to say. But first it was necessary to explain your position, and + lay down the LAW. There is only one reason why you sent for me, and why I + came. You wish, by some means or other, to get free from the control of + this guardian, John Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Barber. “I know all about that. I have been informed by + Lieutenant Dudleigh. You wish in some way or other to gain your freedom. + Now in order to do this there are two different ways, Miss Dalton, and + only two. The first is to find your other guardian, and obtain his + assistance. Who is he? Sir Lionel Dudleigh. Where is he? No one knows. + What then? He must be found. You must send out emissaries, messengers, + detectives, in short; you must send off some one who will find him + wherever he is, and make him acquainted with your position. But suppose + that you can not find him, or that he is indifferent to your interests—a + thing which is certainly possible—what then? What are you to do? You + are then under the control of John Wiggins, your remaining guardian; and + it remains to be seen whether, by the provisions of the will, there is any + other way in which you may escape from that control. Now the will has made + provisions, and here is the other of those two ways of escape of which I + spoke. This is marriage. If you were to marry, that moment you would be + free from the control of John Wiggins; and not only so, but he would at + once be compelled to quit the premises, and hand in his accounts. Of + course his object is to prevent any thing of that kind, which would be so + ruinous to him, and therefore he will keep you shut up, if possible, as + long as he lives; but if you should adopt this way of escape, Miss Dalton, + you would turn the tables at once; and if, as I have understood is the + case, he has made any misappropriations of money, or defalcations of any + kind, he will be bound to make them good, to the uttermost farthing. Such, + Miss Dalton, is the LAW.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have no better prospect than this?” exclaimed Edith, in deep + dejection. + </p> + <p> + “Those, Miss Dalton, are the only two courses possible.” + </p> + <p> + “And if Sir Lionel can not be found?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will have to fall back on the other alternative.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Such, unfortunately are the only provisions of the will.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no hope,” sighed Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Hope? Oh yes! There is plenty of hope. In the first place I would urge + you to lose no time in searching after your uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do so. Will you see to it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do all that I can. You wish me, of course, to act in connection + with Lieutenant Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I will begin at once. And now I must go.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer put his memoranda back in the wallet, restoring the latter to + his pocket, and took his hat. + </p> + <p> + “But must I remain a prisoner here?” cried Edith. “Is there no law to free + me—none whatever? After all, I am a British subject, and I have + always understood that in England no one can be imprisoned without a + trial.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a ward, Miss Dalton, and guardians can control their wards, as + parents control children.” + </p> + <p> + “But parents can not control children who are of age.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SUCH MISS DALTON, IS THE LAW!”} + </p> + <p> + “A ward is under age till the time specified in the legal instrument that + appoints the guardian. You, until marriage, are what the law calls an + 'infant.' But do not be discouraged, Miss Dalton. We will hunt up Sir + Lionel, and if he can be found we will bring him back to England.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, in the same dry, business-like tone that he had used all + along, Barber bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — NEW OBLIGATIONS. + </h2> + <p> + That interview with the lawyer left Edith in a state of the deepest + dejection. She had certainly not anticipated any thing like this. She + expected that measures would at once be taken to carry on a contest with + Wiggins, and give her her lawful rights, and above all her freedom. It + never for a moment entered her mind to question the truth of a single + statement that Barber had made. His whole communication with her was of + the most business-like character, as it seemed to her, and she thought he + must be eminent in his profession, or else Dudleigh would not have + employed him. And this was the end of all that hope in which she had been + indulging! Her freedom now seemed farther removed than ever. How could Sir + Lionel ever be found? According to Dudleigh, he lived the life of a + wanderer, and left no trace behind him. It was hard for her to think that + her only hope depended upon finding him. + </p> + <p> + On the following day Dudleigh came, looking as calm and as unruffled as + usual. + </p> + <p> + “Barber has gone back,” said he. “I knew before what he was going to tell + you. I had not the heart to tell you myself, or even to be here when he + was telling you.” + </p> + <p> + “It might have saved me some disappointment if <i>you</i> had told me.” + </p> + <p> + “But the disappointment would have been as great, and I had not the heart + to inflict sorrow myself upon <i>you</i>! I know, after Barber had + explained it to me, how I felt; and I can form some idea of the nature of + your feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “So there is nothing to be done,” said Edith, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, there is very much indeed to be done, though whether it will + result in any thing remains to be seen.” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? Why, as Barber said, hunt up Sir Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By searching, of course. And that is what I have come about now.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought of any thing new?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing. I merely came to make a proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Edith, languidly; for now there seemed no chance for + any thing. + </p> + <p> + “It is this,” said Dudleigh. “I propose, if you will allow me, to go + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” exclaimed Edith, in great surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you obtain leave to go? You have to go abroad, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you leave your regiment?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes. I can get leave of absence for as long a time as will be needed + for that, I think, without difficulty. In fact, before leaving London, as + soon as I heard Barber's opinion, I put in my request at once for two + months' leave, and I have every reason to believe that they will allow it. + I have one or two influential friends, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you really go? asked Edith, in tones of deep feeling, with all + her gratitude evident in her tone and expression. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you will allow me.” + </p> + <p> + “I?—allow you? I am only too glad to have a friend who is willing to + undertake such a thing for me in my distress.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing, Miss Dalton, which I would not undertake for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are overwhelming me with obligations,” said Edith. “What you have + already done is more than I can ever repay.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak of obligations,” said Dudleigh, earnestly. “My best reward + is the thought that I may have given you even a temporary relief.” + </p> + <p> + “You have given me much happiness,” said Edith, earnestly; “and if it + proves to be only temporary it will not be your fault. You overwhelm me + with a sense of obligation.” + </p> + <p> + “Now really, Miss Dalton, if you talk in that way, you will make me feel + ashamed. After all, what have I done? Nothing more than any gentleman + would do. But do not say a word about it again. Let it be taken for + granted that I do this from a selfish motive—simply to please + myself, you know; simply because I love—to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh spoke in his usual quiet way, without any particular ardor, + although once or twice his voice grew more earnest than usual. Edith said + nothing. She felt a little embarrassed, but the self-possession of Dudley + was perfect; he hinted strongly at love, but seemed not at all like an + ardent lover. He looked and acted simply like a friend; and as Edith + needed a friend above all things, she was glad to accept his services. + </p> + <p> + “My present plan,” said he, “can be easily explained. Sir Lionel seems to + be somewhere about the Mediterranean. Any letters that are sent to him + have to be directed to Messrs. Chatellon, Comeaux, and Co., Marseilles, + who forward them to him. I have already written to these gentlemen, asking + where he is; but when they sent their reply they did not know. They + stated, however, that on hearing from him they would let me know. But to + wait for an answer from these gentlemen would be too great a trial for + your patience. You cannot be satisfied, nor could I unless something is + being done. It would simply kill you to wait here, day after day, week + after week, month after month, for letters that would never come. Nothing + is so terrible. You must send some one. Now I think that the best one you + can send is myself, and I hope I speak without vanity. No mere hireling + can go on this service. The one who goes should have different motives, + and for my part I should feel the search to have a personal interest, and + should work for you as I would for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh,” said Edith, “there is no need for me to say how + I should feel about a search made by you. I refrain from expressions of + gratitude, since you forbid them; and so I do not know what to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Say nothing, then, and—I do not like to say it, but I must—hope + for nothing. If you hope, you may be disappointed. If you do not hope, you + can not be. But in any case, whether you are disappointed or not, remember + this—that in spite of these musty lawyers, if the worst comes to the + worst you have one steadfast friend, and that if you say the word I will + force a way for you through those gates. If you ever feel discouraged, + remember that. It is a great preventive against despair to know that you + have an alternative of some kind. And now I will take my departure, for + the train will leave soon, and I must go at once.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — THE SOURCES OF THE NILE. + </h2> + <p> + At length, after an absence of four or five weeks, Dudleigh returned. + Edith had tried hard not to hope, so as to be prepared for a + disappointment; but after all, in spite of her efforts, she could not help + hoping. She put great confidence in Dudleigh's energy and perseverance, + and thought that he would be able not only to find out where Sir Lionel + might be, but even to see him, and make him acquainted with her situation. + He had already done so much for her that it seemed quite possible for him + to do this. As the days passed by she found herself looking forward to his + return as the time of her certain deliverance, until at length hope grew + into confidence, and the idea of disappointment was completely driven + away. + </p> + <p> + At last he came, and his first appearance put to flight all her hopes, and + filled her with a nameless terror. He looked dejected and weary. He asked + after her health, and whether she had been in any way molested; after + which Edith entreated him to tell her the worst. + </p> + <p> + “For you bring bad news,” said she—“I see it in your face. Tell me + the worst.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh mournfully shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You have not found him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must have heard something about him. He is at least alive, is he + not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know even that.” + </p> + <p> + “What! has any thing happened to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of. But he has started on a long and perilous excursion; + and whether he will ever return or not is more than I can say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no hope,” said Edith, in a voice of despair. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh was silent for a time. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all,” he replied at length. “When I left you I went at + once to Marseilles. I called on Sir Lionel's agents there, but found that + they had heard nothing from him whatever. They said that when he last left + that city he had gone to Turkey. I then set off for Constantinople, and + spent a week there, trying to find some traces of him. At the British + Embassy they said that he had only remained one day in the city, and had + then gone in his yacht, which he had brought with him, on a cruise in the + Black Sea. But whether he had returned or not no one knew. At last I met + with a merchant who knew him, and he told me that he had returned and gone + to Athens. I went to Athens, and found that he had been there at one of + the hotels, the landlord of which informed me that he had spent three days + there and had left for parts unknown. I left letters at each of these + places, and sent others to Smyrna, Beyrout, Jaffa, and Alexandria. Then I + returned to Marseilles. There, to my surprise, I learned that, a few days + after I left, they had heard from Sir Lionel, who was in Alexandria, and + about to start on the maddest expedition that was ever heard of—a + journey up the Nile, into the inaccessible regions of Central Africa—to + try to discover the sources of that river. He simply announced to his + agents that all his preparations were completed, and that he would leave + immediately. What could I do then? I did the only thing there was to be + done, and hurried to Alexandria. Of course he had left the place before my + letter reached it; and I learned that from the rapid way in which he set + out he must already be far out of reach. Even then I would have gone after + him, and tracked him to the sources of the Nile themselves, if I had been + able. But I had no experience in travel of that kind. I couldn't manage a + band of Arabs, for I didn't know a word of their language, and of course I + could not stop to study it. That idea would have been absurd. Besides, + other reasons had weight with me, and so I came reluctantly back.” + </p> + <p> + “Africa! the sources of the Nile!” exclaimed Edith, dolefully. “I can't + understand why he should have chosen those places.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is no new idea. It is a thing that he has had in his mind for + years. I have heard him talk of it long ago. I remember hearing him, once + say that the only chance now remaining by which a man could gain brilliant + distinction was the discovery of the sources of the Nile. Every other part + of the world, he said, is known.” + </p> + <p> + “How long should you think he might be absent on such a journey?” asked + Edith, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “How long? Ah! Miss Dalton, so long that it should not be thought of. + Years must elapse before he returns.” + </p> + <p> + “Years!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—if he ever does return,” said Dudleigh, in a mournful voice. + “With him now the question is not, When will he return? but rather, Will + he ever return? It is, as you must know, a most desperate and hopeless + undertaking. For thousands of years men have tried that journey, and + failed.” + </p> + <p> + “But may he not be baffled and turn back? There is some hope in that. He + will find out that it is impossible.” And Edith for a moment grasped at + that thought. + </p> + <p> + “You will think me one of Job's comforters,” said Dudleigh, with a + melancholy smile. “But I think it is a poor mark of friendship to hide the + truth. It is better for you to know all now. The fact is, there would be + some hope of his return if he were any other than Sir Lionel Dudleigh. But + being what he is, he will follow his purpose to the end. He is a man of + unflinching courage and inflexible determination. More than this, he + announced to his friends before he left that he would either bring back + the truth about the sources of the Nile, or else he would not come back at + all. So now he has not only his resolution to impel him, but his pride + also.” + </p> + <p> + “This hope, then, fails me utterly,” said Edith, after a long pause. + </p> + <p> + “I fear so.” + </p> + <p> + “He is, in fact, the same as dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as far as you are concerned, and your present needs.” + </p> + <p> + “This is terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton, I do not know what to say. I can only say that my heart + aches for you. I delayed on the road, because I could not bear to bring + this news to you. Then I wrote a letter, and thought of sending that, but + I feared you might not get it. I could not bear to see you in sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You, at least, Lieutenant Dudleigh,” said Edith, earnestly, “have acted + toward me like a true friend and a true gentleman. No one could have done + more. It is some consolation to know that every thing which was possible + has been done.” + </p> + <p> + There was now a long pause. Each one was lost in thought. Edith's sad face + was turned toward Dudleigh, but she did not notice him. She was wrapped in + her own thoughts, and wondering how long she could endure the life that + now lay before her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh at length, in a mournful voice, “I have to + leave at once to join my regiment, for my leave is up, and it may be some + time before I see you again.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + Edith looked at him earnestly, fearful of what she thought might be + coming. Would it be a confession of love? How strong that love must be + which had prompted him to such devotion! And yet she could not return it? + Yet if he said any thing about it, what could she say? Could she refuse + one who had done so much, one who loved her so deeply, one who was the + only friend now left her? + </p> + <p> + “It is heart-breaking to leave you here, Miss Dalton,” he continued, + “among unscrupulous enemies. When I am away I shall be distracted by a + thousand fears about you. How can you endure this life? And yet I might do + something to save you from it. My own life is at your disposal. Do you + wish to be free now? Will you have that gate opened, and fly?” + </p> + <p> + Edith said not a word. She was filled with extreme agitation. Fly! Did + that mean to fly with him? to escape with a lover? and then—what? + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to escape now, at this moment, Miss Dalton, all that you have + to do is to go out with me. I am armed. If there is any resistance, I can + force a way through. The first man that dares to bar the way dies. As for + me, if I fall, I shall ask nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + And saying this, Dudleigh looked at Edith inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + But Edith faltered. Her horror of bloodshed was great. Was her situation + so desperate that she could sacrifice a human life to gain her freedom? + Perhaps that life might be Dudleigh's. Could she risk the life of the man + who had done so much for her? She could not. No, after all, she shrank + from gaining her freedom at such a risk. + </p> + <p> + Then, again, if she were free, where could she go? She knew now how + utterly forlorn she was. Miss Plympton was gone, and Sir Lionel was gone. + There were none left. She could not live without money, and all her vast + property was under the control of another. Dudleigh had said nothing about + love either: and she was grateful for his delicacy. Did he intend in his + deep devotion to support her himself, or what did he intend? + </p> + <p> + “You hesitate, Miss Dalton,” said he at last. “Have you your old fear + about bloodshed?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not bear to risk such a sacrifice,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “But one has a right to fly from slavery, and to destroy any one who tries + to prevent his escape.” + </p> + <p> + “I can not,” said Edith. “The blood that might be shed would stain all my + life. Better to endure my misery as best I can. It must become far worse + before I can consent to any thing so terrible as the death of a + fellow-being.” + </p> + <p> + “You may yet consent even to that, may you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you do, you have one on whom you can rely. At any rate, I do not + think there is any reason for you to fear downright cruelty here. The law + protects you from that, just as it protects a child. You are not a captive + in the hands of one of those old feudal barons whom we read about. You are + simply a ward under the control of a guardian—a thing most odious to + one like you, yet one which does not make you liable to any physical evil. + But this is poor comfort. I know that your position will become more + intolerable as time goes on; and, Miss Dalton, whenever you can bear it no + longer, remember that I am ready. Your only danger would be if I should + happen to be ordered out of England. But even then I would order Barber to + watch over you.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sighed. Her future seemed dark indeed. The chance that Dudleigh + might be ordered to America or India filled her with new alarm. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh rose to go. + </p> + <p> + “In six or eight weeks,” said he, “I hope to come again. I shall never + forget you, but day and night I shall be planning for your happiness.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand as he said this. Edith noticed that the hand which held + hers was as cold as ice. He raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + Soon after he left. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — A THREATENING LETTER. + </h2> + <p> + On the day after the departure of Dudleigh, Edith found a letter lying on + her table. It was addressed to her in that stiff, constrained hand which + she knew so well as belonging to that enemy of her life and of her race—John + Wiggins. With some curiosity as to the motive which he might have in thus + writing to her, she opened the letter, and read the following: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS DALTON,—I feel myself incapable of sustaining another + interview with you, and I am therefore reduced to the necessity of + writing. + </p> + <p> + “I have been deeply pained for a long time at the recklessness with which + you receive total strangers as visitors, and admit them to your + confidence. I have already warned you, but my warnings were received by + you in such a manner as to prevent my encountering another interview. + </p> + <p> + “I write now to inform you that for your own sake, your own future, and + your own good name, it is my fixed intention to put a stop to these + interviews. This must be done, whatever may be the cost. You must + understand from this that there is nothing left for you but to obey. + </p> + <p> + “If after this you allow these adventurers one single interview more, I + shall be under the unpleasant necessity of limiting your freedom to an + extent that may be painful to you, and even still more so to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, JOHN WIGGINS.” + </p> + <p> + Edith read this letter over and over again, with many mingled feelings. + Wiggins had left her so much to herself of late that she had begun to + count upon his continued inaction, and supposed that he was too much + afraid of Dudleigh to interfere, or to make any opposition whatever to his + visits. Now, however, she saw that he had made up his mind to action, and + she fully believed that he was not the man who would make any idle menace. + </p> + <p> + The thing that offended Edith most in this letter was what she considered + its insolence. Its tone was that of a superior addressing an inferior—a + patron speaking to a dependent. At this all the stubborn pride of Edith's + nature was outraged, and rose in rebellion; but above all was that pride + stimulated by the word “obey.” + </p> + <p> + She also saw in that letter the indications of an unpleasant development + of the policy of Wiggins, which would make her future darker than her + present was. Hitherto he had simply surrounded her with a barrier over + which she could not pass, admitting to her only those whom he wished, or + whom he could not keep away. But now she saw some approach made to a more + positive tyranny. There was a threat of limiting her freedom. What that + meant she could easily conjecture. Wiggins was evidently dissatisfied with + the liberty which she still had of walking over the grounds. He now + intended to confine her within the Hall—perhaps in her own room. + </p> + <p> + This showed her what she had to expect in the future. The steps of her + tyrant's progress would be gradual, but terrible. First, perhaps she would + be confined to the Hall, then to her own rooms, and finally perhaps to + some small chamber—some cell—where she would live a living + death as long as her jailer might allow her. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this open show of tyranny, she also saw what seemed to her + the secret craft by which Wiggins had contrived an excuse for further + restraint. She considered Mowbray and Mrs. Mowbray as direct agents of + his. As for Dudleigh, she now though that Wiggins had not been so much + afraid of him as he had appeared to be, but had allowed him to come so as + to gain an excuse for further coercion. It was evident to Edith that + Dudleigh's transparent integrity of character and his ardent espousal of + her cause must be well known to Wiggins, and that he only tolerated this + visitor so as to gain a plausible pretext for putting her under restraint. + </p> + <p> + That letter threw an additional gloom over Edith's life, and lent a fresh + misery to her situation. The prospect before her now was dark indeed. She + was in a prison-house, where her imprisonment seemed destined to grow + closer and closer. There was no reason why Wiggins should spare her at + all. Having so successfully shut her within the grounds for so long a + time, he would now be able to carry out any mode of confinement which + might be desirable to him. She had heard of people being confined in + private mad-houses, through the conspiracy of relatives who coveted their + property. Thus far she had believed these stories to be wholly imaginary, + but now she began to believe them true. Her own case had shown her the + possibility of unjust and illegal imprisonment, and she had not yet been + able to find out any mode of escape. This place seemed now to be her + future prison-house, where her imprisonment would grow from bad to worse, + and where she herself, under the terrible struggle of feeling to which she + would be subject, might finally sink into a state of madness. + </p> + <p> + Such a prospect was terrible beyond words. It filled her with horror, and + she regarded her future with the most gloomy forebodings. In the face of + all this she had a sense of the most utter helplessness, and the + disappointments which she had thus far encountered only served to deepen + her dejection. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of all this there was one hope for her, and one only. + </p> + <p> + That solitary hope rested altogether on her friend Dudleigh. When he last + left her he had promised to come to her again in six or eight weeks. This, + then, was the only thing left, and to his return she looked forward + incessantly, with the most eager and impatient hope. + </p> + <p> + To her it now seemed a matter of secondary importance what might be her + own feelings toward Dudleigh. She felt confident of his love toward her, + and in the abhorrence with which she recoiled from the terrible future + which Wiggins was planning for her she was able to contemplate Dudleigh's + passion with complacency. She did not love the little man, but if he could + save her from the horror that rose before her, she resolved to shrink from + no sacrifice of feeling, but grant him whatever reward he might claim. + </p> + <p> + Time passed. Six weeks were over, but there were no signs of Dudleigh. The + suspense of Edith now became terrible. She began to fear that Wiggins had + shut him out, and had refused to allow him to enter again. If this were + so, and if Dudleigh had submitted to such exclusion, then all was indeed + lost. But Edith would not yet believe it. She clung to hope, and since he + had said “six or eight weeks,” she thought that she might wait the extreme + limit mentioned by him before yielding to despair. + </p> + <p> + Eight weeks passed. + </p> + <p> + On the day when those weeks had expired Edith found herself in a fever of + suspense, devoured by the most intolerable impatience, with all her + thoughts and feelings now centred upon Dudleigh, and her last hope fixed + upon him only. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — THE PROPOSAL. + </h2> + <h4> + Eight weeks passed. + </h4> + <p> + Edith's impatience was uncontrollable. Thus far she had passed most of the + time in her own room; but now the confinement was more than she could + endure. She went out into the grounds, where she wandered day after day, + watching and listening, restlessly and feverishly, for the approach of her + friend. At length one day, as she was walking down the avenue, a + well-known figure came up advancing toward her, at sight of which a thrill + of joy passed through her. It was he. At last Little Dudleigh! + </p> + <p> + In her great joy she did not seek to conceal her feelings, or to maintain + that reserve which thus far she had manifested in her interviews with him. + All this was thrown aside. Here stood at last her one true friend, the one + whose loss she had lamented, whose return she had looked for so eagerly; + the one friend coming to her through the enemies who intervened. With a + rapid step she advanced toward him. She held out her hands, and pressed + his warmly. Her lips quivered, tears started to her eyes, but she did not + speak. + </p> + <p> + “I am back again, Miss Dalton,” said Little Dudleigh, joyously. “But how + changed you are! You have suffered. I see it in your face. What is the + matter? Has any thing new happened? Has that villain dared to offer + insult? Ah, why was I not here before? But I could not come. I came as + soon as I could.” + </p> + <p> + Edith murmured a few words in reply, and then they walked together at a + slow pace along the avenue. Edith did not care to go back to the Hall, + where all was so gloomy, but preferred the fresh pure air, and the + cheering face of nature. + </p> + <p> + As they walked on together Edith recounted the events of her life since + she had last seen him. Now all her long pent-up feelings burst forth + without restraint. At last she had some one to whom she could confide her + sorrows, and she found it sweet to talk to one whom she knew to be so full + of sympathy. To all this Dudleigh listened with the profoundest attention, + and with visible agitation. + </p> + <p> + In all that she said and in all her manner Edith freely expressed the joy + that she felt at once more meeting with a friend so tried, so true, so + valued, in whom she could trust so implicitly, and from whom she could + find sympathy. She had struggled so long in silence and in loneliness that + Dudleigh's sympathy seemed doubly sweet. + </p> + <p> + When she ceased a long silence followed. Dudleigh's agitation still + continued. Several times he looked at her wistfully, inquiringly, + doubtfully, as if about to speak, and each time he hesitated. But at last, + with a strong effort, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I must say it, Miss Dalton,” said he. “I am compelled to. I came here + this day—for the sole purpose of saying—something which—you—may + be unwilling to hear. I have hesitated long, and staid away longer on this + account, yet I must say it now. You are in a fearful position, Miss + Dalton. You are in the power of an unprincipled and a desperate man. I + feel for you most deeply. You are always in my thoughts. In order to + assist you I have done all that I could. I do not wish to make any + allusions to what I have done, but rather to what I have felt, and shall + feel. You have become very dear to me. I know I am not worthy of you. You + are above me. I am only a humble lieutenant; you are the lady of Dalton + Hall; but I can not bear to—to go away and leave one whom I love in + the power of a villain. Dare I offer you my protection? Will it be too + much to ask you to be mine? I do not hope that you can look upon me just + yet with any such feelings as love, but I see that you treat me as a + friend, and you have honored me with your confidence. I have never said + any thing about my love to you, but perhaps you have not been altogether + without suspicion about it. Had I found Sir Lionel, or had I thought that + he was at all accessible, I would never have made my humble confession + until you were in a different position. I am ashamed to make it now, for + though I know that you would not suspect me of any thing base, yet it + looks as if I were taking advantage of your necessities. But I know that + to a mind like yours such a suspicion would never come; and I am comforted + by the thought that if you do listen to my request it will lead, to your + safety. I think, too, that if it were possible for you to consent, even if + you felt no very tender sentiment toward me, you would have from me a + devotion such as few others are capable of feeling. Under such + circumstances you might not be altogether unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + All this Dudleigh had spoken with feverish rapidity, and with every sign + of the strongest agitation, occasionally stopping, and then resuming his + remarks in a headlong way. But if he had felt agitation, Edith had felt at + least quite as much. At the first mention of his proposal her head sank + forward, and she looked fixedly upon the ground with downcast eyes, while + her tears fell abundantly. She said nothing. Dudleigh in his frequent + pauses seemed to expect that she would say something, but she did not. + </p> + <p> + Edith's feelings were of the most distressing kind. She had, of course, + anticipated something like this, but had never yet been able to decide + what she should do in the event of such a confession. She did not love + him. Her feelings toward him were of a totally different kind. It seemed + to her that such a feeling as love could never by any possibility be felt + by her for him. And yet she had a very strong regard for him. His society + was very pleasant to her. She would have done much and sacrificed much for + his sake. But to be his wife, that was a thing which seemed odious. + </p> + <p> + Yet what could she do! Her position was intolerable and full of peril. If + she were his wife, in one moment she would be safe, free, and under the + protection of one who loved her with utter devotion. True, she had no such + sentiment toward him as a wife should have for a husband, but he himself + was aware of that, and in spite of that was willing, nay, eager, to take + her. She was touched to the heart by his self-depreciation and profound + respect. + </p> + <p> + Then, again, she thought, ought not he himself to be considered? Had he no + claims? He had given himself up to her; he had done much for her. He had + offered again and again to give up his life for her. Ought not such rare + devotion to meet with some reward? And what reward could she ever give? + There was only one which he wanted—herself. Could she refuse him + that? + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh said not another word, and in that long and most embarrassing + silence he looked away so as not to add to her confusion. Edith did not + know what to do or say. Could she refuse him? Then how ungrateful she + would be to her best friend! But if he should leave her? What then? A life + of despair! The complete triumph of Wiggins. A living death. + </p> + <p> + Was it at all singular that she recoiled from such an alternative? She + could not endure this captivity any longer. And was it, then, so dreadful + to give herself to the man who adored her? No. If she did not love him, + she at least had a strong friendship, and this in time might change to + love. She had a greater regard for him than for any other man. + Distasteful? It was. Yes. But it was far better than this imprisonment. + She must take him as her husband, or lose him forever. He could do no more + for her unless she became his wife. He could only save her by marrying + her. + </p> + <p> + She was touched by his present attitude. He was waiting so patiently, so + humbly. She saw his deep agitation. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, by a quick movement, she turned toward him and held out her + hand. Dudleigh took it, and for a moment each gazed into the other's eyes, + regardless of observation. Dudleigh's face was deathly pale, and his hand + as cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend,” said Edith, in a low, hesitating voice, “what can I say + to you? I can not give you love. I have no such feeling, but I feel deep + gratitude. I know your worth. You have done so much, and I wish I could + feel different. If you take me as I am, I—I—I am—yours. + But I am not worthy. No, I am not—not worthy of such devotion. You + love me, but I do not love you. What can I do? Yet in spite of this, if + you ask me, I am—yours.” + </p> + <p> + Edith spoke with downcast eyes and deep embarrassment and frequent + hesitation. Her last words died away almost into a whisper. But the + agitation of Dudleigh was now even greater than her own. A change came + over him that was terrible to witness. As he took her hand he trembled, + almost convulsively, from head to foot. His face became ghastly white, he + pressed his hand against his heart, his breathing was thick and oppressed, + big drops of perspiration started forth upon his brow, and at last, to + Edith's amazement, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. Then he dropped + her hand, and turned away, murmuring some inarticulate words. + </p> + <p> + At this Edith's confusion passed away, and changed to wonder. What was the + meaning of this? Tears and sobs—and from a man! But the thought at + once occurred that this was his sensitiveness, and that it arose from her + telling him so plainly that she did not love him. “I can not love him, and + he knows it,” she thought, “and it breaks his heart, poor fellow! How I + wish I could console him!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Dudleigh dashed his hand across his eyes, and walked swiftly + onward. Edith followed as fast as she could, keeping him in sight, but + falling farther and farther behind. At length he turned and came back to + meet her. His eyes were downcast, and there was misery unspeakable on his + white face. As he came up to her he held out his hand, and looked at her + with a strange, woful gaze. + </p> + <p> + Edith took the hand which he held out. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he, “you said you would be mine.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THEN HE DROPPED HER HAND, AND TURNED AWAY."} + </p> + <p> + Edith's lips moved, but no sound escaped them. + </p> + <p> + “All that you have said, Miss Dalton,” he continued, “I feel most deeply, + most keenly; but how else could it have been? Yet if you will indeed be + mine, I will give you my love and gratitude. I will save you from—from + danger; I will—will—bless you.” He stopped, and looked at her + with quivering lips, while an expression of agony came across his face. + </p> + <p> + But Edith's eyes were downcast now, and she did not see this new anguish + of his; her own distress was too great. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh dropped her hand again. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall it be?” said he, hurriedly and nervously. “It can not be in + the Hall. Will you venture to pass the gates with me?—I will force + my way through—or are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not consent to bloodshed,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I thought of that,” said Dudleigh, “and I have one more plan—if you + will only consent. It is not much to you who have suffered so much. It + will make your way to freedom easy. Can we not meet in the park somewhere—in + some secluded place?” + </p> + <p> + “In the park?” repeated Edith, abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + “I can bring a clergyman inside,” said Dudleigh, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + Edith shuddered. The idea was not yet less repugnant than it had been. But + she had consented, and here was this man—her only friend, her adorer—with + all his love and devotion. If she did not love him, she must pity him. She + had also given her word. As to the way in which this promise might be + carried out, it was a matter of indifference. At any rate, she would + escape from her hateful prison. And what mattered it how, or where, or + when the ceremony might be performed? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Dalton,” said Dudleigh, “forgive me! forgive me! I must go away + in two days. Could you consent to let this be—tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + Edith made no reply. She trembled. Her head sank down lower. + </p> + <p> + “There is one place,” said Dudleigh, and then hesitated. Edith said + nothing. There was anguish in her face and in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “The chapel—” + </p> + <p> + “The chapel,” she repeated, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “It is hidden among the trees. Do you know it? It is away from all + observation.” + </p> + <p> + Edith bowed her head. She knew it well. It was off the main avenue—not + far away from the Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Can you get out of the house after dark?” said Dudleigh, in a feverish + whisper. “It must be after dark, and we must be unobserved. For if Wiggins + were to see us he would come as your guardian, and take you back, and shut + you up—perhaps for life.” + </p> + <p> + This suggestion about Wiggins chimed in with Edith's own fears. It made + her desperate. The marriage seemed less abhorrent; it was eclipsed by the + horrors of imprisonment for life. Discovery now—after that last + threat of his—would bring a closer restraint, stricter imprisonment, + the loss of all hope. + </p> + <p> + “I can get out,” she said, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I find you?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a private door at the east end—” + </p> + <p> + “I know the door.” + </p> + <p> + “I can get out through that. No one will think of my leaving the Hall + after dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I will meet you there.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow evening,” said Dudleigh, “at ten o'clock. It will be dark then. + Will you meet me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Edith, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall only hope, then,” said he, “that no new restraint may be imposed + upon you to prevent your coming. And now I will go—to meet you + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He seized her hand in his icy grasp, wrung it convulsively, and bowing + with his pallid face, walked quickly away. + </p> + <p> + There was a weight on Edith's heart; but in spite of this, Dudleigh's last + look, his agitated manner, and his deep love filled her with pity, and + made her anxious to carry out her act of self-sacrifice for so dear and so + true a friend. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — A MARRIAGE IN THE DARK. + </h2> + <p> + The chapel referred to was a sombre edifice over the graves of the + Daltons. Beneath it were the vaults where reposed the remains of Edith's + ancestors. The chapel was used for the celebration of burial rites. It was + in this place that the marriage was to take place. Edith, in her gloom, + thought the place an appropriate one. Let the marriage be there, she + thought—in that place where never anything but burials has been + known before. Could she have changed the one service into the other, she + would have done so. + </p> + <p> + And yet she would not go back, for it was the least of two evils. The + other alternative was captivity under the iron hand of Wiggins—Wiggins + the adventurer, the forger, the betrayer of her father, whose power over + herself was a perpetual insult to that father's memory—a thing + intolerable, a thing of horror. Why should she not give herself to the man + who loved her, even if her own love was wanting, when such an act would + free her from so accursed a tyranny? + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE SAW THROUGH THE GLOOM A FIGURE"} + </p> + <p> + Agitated and excited, she lingered through the hours of the day after + parting with Dudleigh. Night came, but brought no rest; and the following + day dawned, and the irrevocable hour drew nigh. That day was one filled + with strange fears, chief among which was the thought that Wiggins might + discover all, or suspect it, and arrest her flight. But time passed, and + evening came, and Wiggins had done nothing. + </p> + <p> + All was still. The house was always still, and surrounded her—a vast + solitude. Mrs. Dunbar was in her own room: it was always her habit to + retire early. Wiggins was far away, at the west end of the Hall. Hugo was + in his remote quarters in the attic. The vigilance which her keepers + maintained by day was relaxed at night, for they never suspected her of + any design of leaving the house after dark. Her interview with Dudleigh + must have been seen and reported, but no action that she was aware of had + been taken. Perhaps Wiggins was waiting for him to make another call, when + he would step forth and formally lock her up in her room. + </p> + <p> + And now, as Edith prepared to carry her plan into execution, there was + nothing all around but the most profound stillness. Underneath the story + on which her room was there extended a hall, at the east end of which + there was a private stairway leading down to a small door which opened out + into the park. Leaving her room noiselessly, she descended to the lower + hall, traversed it, and descended the stairway to the door. It was secured + by a bolt only. This she drew back as noiselessly as possible—not, + however, without an unpleasantly loud grating sound. The door opened + without much difficulty. She passed through it. She shut it after her. + Then she turned to step down upon the grass. She saw through the gloom a + figure. She recognized it. It was Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand and took hers. As before, his hand was icy cold, and + he trembled violently, but Edith also was trembling with excitement and + agitation, and was therefore too much taken up with her own feelings to + notice those of others. Dudleigh did not say a word, but started off at + once, leading her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + Now that she had gone thus far, the act seemed too terrible to be endured, + and she would have give any thing to go back. There came over her a + frightful feeling of apprehension—a deep, dark horror, unutterable, + intolerable. But it was now too late—she had to go on. And on she + went, clinging to Dudleigh, who himself showed an agitation equal to hers. + Thus they walked on in silence. Each might have heard the strong throbbing + of the other's heart, had not the excitement of each been so overwhelming. + In this way they went on, trembling, horror-stricken, till at length they + reached the chapel. + </p> + <p> + It was a dark and sombre edifice, in the Egyptian style, now darker and + more sombre in the gloom of evening and the shadows of surrounding trees. + The door was open. As they entered, two figures advanced from the shadows + of the trees. One of these wore a white surplice; the other was + undistinguishable in the gloom, save that his stature was that of a tall, + large man. + </p> + <p> + “The clergyman and the—witness,” said Dudleigh, in a tremulous + whisper. + </p> + <p> + As these two entered, one of them closed the door. The dull creaking of + the hinges grated harshly on Edith's ears, and struck fresh horror to her + heart. She faltered and trembled. She sank back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can not, I can not!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, dear one; it will soon be over,” whispered Dudleigh, in an + agitated voice. + </p> + <p> + Edith made a violent effort to regain her composure. But she felt + helpless. Her senses seemed leaving her; her heart throbbed still more + painfully; her brain whirled. She clung to Dudleigh. But as she clung to + him she felt that he trembled as violently as she herself did. This made + her feel calmer. She pitied him. Poor fellow, she thought, he sees my + agitation. He thinks I hate him. He is broken-hearted. I must be calmer + for his sake. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the lights?” asked the clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “Lights?” repeated Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it won't do to have lights,” said he, in the same agitated voice. + “I—I explained all that. The light will show through the window. We + must go down into the vaults.” + </p> + <p> + Outside, it was very obscure; inside, it was quite dark. Edit could see + the outline of a large window and the white sheen of the clergyman's + surplice; nothing more was visible. + </p> + <p> + The clergyman stood waiting. Dudleigh went to the witness and conversed + with him in a low whisper. + </p> + <p> + “The witness,” said Dudleigh, as he came back, “forgot to bring lights. I + have none. Have you any?” + </p> + <p> + “Lights?—no,” said the clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't go down into the vaults.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say,” remarked the clergyman, “that since we have no lights, it + is far better for us to remain where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “But we may be overheard.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall speak low.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it a little too dark here?” asked Dudleigh, tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is rather dark,” said the clergyman, “but I suppose it can't + be helped, and it need not make any difference. There is a witness who has + seen the parties, and as you say secrecy is needed, why, this darkness may + be all the more favorable. But it is no concern of mine. Only I should + think it equally safe, and a great deal pleasanter, to have the ceremony + here than down in the vaults.” + </p> + <p> + All this had been spoken in a quick low tone, so as to guard against being + overheard. During this scene Edith had stood trembling, half fainting, + with a kind of blank despair in her soul, and scarcely any consciousness + of what was going on. + </p> + <p> + The witness, who had entered last, moved slowly and carefully about, and + walked up to where he could see the figure of Edith faintly defined + against the white sheen of the clergyman's surplice. He stood at her right + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Begin,” said Dudleigh; and then he said, “Miss Dalton, where are you?” + </p> + <p> + She said nothing. She could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he again. + </p> + <p> + She tried to speak, but it ended in a moan. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh seemed to distinguish her now, for he went toward her, and the + next moment she felt the bridegroom at her side. + </p> + <p> + A shudder passed through Edith. She could think of nothing but the horror + of her situation. And yet she did not think of retreating. No. Her + plighted word had been given, and the dark terror of Wiggins made it still + more impossible. Yet so deep was her agitation that there was scarce any + thought on her mind at all. + </p> + <p> + And now the clergyman began the marriage service. He could not use his + book, of course, but he knew the service by heart, and went on fluently + enough, omitting here and there an unimportant part, and speaking in a low + voice, but very rapidly. Edith scarcely understood a word. + </p> + <p> + Then the clergyman said: + </p> + <p> + “Leon, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together + after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, + comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking + all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?” + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom answered, in a whisper, + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together + after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him + and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and + forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall + live?” + </p> + <p> + Edith tried to say “I will,” but only an unintelligible sound escaped her. + </p> + <p> + Then the clergyman went on, while the bridegroom repeated in a whisper + these words: + </p> + <p> + “I, Leon, take thee, Edith, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from + this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness + and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to + God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” + </p> + <p> + The clergyman then said the words for Edith, but she could not repeat the + formula after him. Here and there she uttered a word or two in a + disjointed way, but that was all. + </p> + <p> + Then Edith felt her hand taken and a ring put on her finger. + </p> + <p> + Then the clergyman said the next formula, which the bridegroom repeated + after him in a whisper as before: + </p> + <p> + “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my + worldly goods I thee endow,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a prayer, after which the clergy man, joining their right + hands together, said, + </p> + <p> + “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” + </p> + <p> + Then followed the remainder of the service, and at its conclusion the + clergyman solemnly wished them every happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I may go now,” said he; and as there was no answer, he groped + his way to the door, flung it open, and took his departure. + </p> + <p> + During all this service Edith had been in a condition verging upon half + unconsciousness. The low murmur of voices, the hurried words of the + clergyman, the whispers of the bridegroom, were all confused together in + an unintelligible whole, and even her own answers had scarce made any + impression upon her. Her head seemed to spin, her brain to whirl, and all + her frame to sink away. At length the grating of the opening door, the + clergyman's departing footsteps, and the slight increase of light roused + her. + </p> + <p> + She was married! + </p> + <p> + Where was her husband? + </p> + <p> + This thought came to her with a new horror. Deep silence had followed the + clergyman's departure. She in her weakness was not noticed. Dudleigh, the + loving, the devoted, had no love or devotion for her now. Where was he? + The silence was terrible. + </p> + <p> + But at last that silence was broken—fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said a voice which thrilled the inmost soul of Edith with horror + unspeakable: “I'm tired of humbugging. I'm going home. Come along, Mrs. + Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + The horror that passed through Edith at the sound of this voice for a + moment seemed to paralyze her. She turned to where the voice sounded. It + was the man beside her who spoke—the bridegroom! He was not Dudleigh—not + Little Dudleigh! He was tall and large. It was the witness. What frightful + mockery was this? But the confusion of thought that arose was rudely + interrupted. A strong hand was laid upon hers, and again that voice spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Mrs. Dudleigh!” + </p> + <p> + “What is—this?” gasped Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're married, that's all. You ought to know that by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Away!” cried Edith, with a sharp cry. “Who are you? Dudleigh! Dudleigh! + where are you? Will you not help me?” + </p> + <p> + “That's not very likely,” said the same voice, in a mocking tone. “His + business is to help <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God! what is the meaning of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's simple enough. It means that you're my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your</i> wife! Oh, Dudleigh: oh, my friend! what does all this mean? + Why do you not speak?” + </p> + <p> + But Dudleigh said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I have no objections to explaining,” said the voice. “You're actually + married to me. My name is not Mowbray. It's Leon Dudleigh, the individual + that you just plighted your troth to. My small friend here is not <i>Leon</i> + Dudleigh, whatever other Dudleigh he may call himself. He is the witness.” + </p> + <p> + “It's false!” cried Edith. “Lieutenant Dudleigh would never betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate,” said Leon, “I happen to be the happy man who alone + can claim you as his bride.” + </p> + <p> + “Villain!” shrieked Edith, in utter horror. “Cursed villain! Let go my + hand. This is all mockery. Your wife!—I would die first.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you won't,” said Leon—“not while you have me to love and to + cherish you, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and + forsaking all others, keep only unto you, in the beautiful words of that + interesting service.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie! it's a lie!” cried Edith. “Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh, I have + trusted you implicitly, and I trust you yet. Come to me—save me!” + </p> + <p> + And in her anguish Edith sank down upon her knees, and held out her arms + imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “Dudleigh!” she moaned. “Oh, my friend! Oh, only come—only save me + from this villain, and I will love—I will love and bless you—I + will be your menial—I will—” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Leon, “I'm the only Dudleigh about. If you knew half as much + about my <i>dear friend</i> the lieutenant as I do, you would know what + infernal nonsense you are talking;” and seizing her hand, he tried to + raise her. “Come,” said he, “up with you.” + </p> + <p> + Edith tried to loosen her hand, whereupon Leon dashed it away. + </p> + <p> + “Who wants your hand?” he cried: “I'm your husband, not your lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh!” moaned Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Well, lieutenant,” said Leon, “speak up. Come along. Tell her, if you + like.” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh, save me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, great Heaven!” said a voice like that of the one whom Edith knew as + Lieutenant Dudleigh—“oh, great Heaven! it's too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh ho!” cried Leon: “so you're going to blubber too, are you? Mind, now, + it's all right if you are only true.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Leon, how you wring my heart!” cried the other, in a low, tremulous + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh!” cried Edith again. “Oh, my friend, answer me! Tell + me that it is all a lie. Tell me—” + </p> + <p> + But Lieutenant Dudleigh flung himself on the stone pavement, and groaned + and sobbed convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Leon, stooping and lifting him up; “you understand all this. + Don't you go on blubbering in this fashion. I don't mind her and <i>you</i> + mustn't. Come, you tell her, for she'll keep yelling after you all night + till you do.” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Dudleigh rose at this, and leaned heavily upon Leon's arm. + </p> + <p> + “You were not—married—to—to—me,” said he at last. + </p> + <p> + “What! Then you too were false all along!” said Edith, in a voice that + seemed to come from a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + The false friend made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Dudleigh,” said Leon, coolly, “for your information I will + simply state that the—ahem—lieutenant here is my very + particular friend—in fact, my most intimate and most valued friend—and + in his tender affection for me he undertook this little affair at my + instigation. It's all my act, all through, every bit of it, but the + carrying out of the details was—ahem—his. The marriage, + however, is perfectly valid. The banns were published all right. So you + may feel quite at ease.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Edith, “how basely, how terribly, I have been deceived! And it + is all lies! It was all lies, lies, lies from the beginning!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a fierce thrill of indignation flashed through her. She started + to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “It is all a lie from beginning to end!” she exclaimed, in a voice which + was totally changed from that wail of despair which had been heard once + before. It was a firm, proud, stern voice. She had fallen back upon her + own lofty soul, and had sought refuge in that resolute nature of hers + which had sustained her before this in other dire emergencies. “Yes,” she + said, sternly, “a lie; and this mock-marriage is a lie. Villains, stand + off. I am going home.” + </p> + <p> + “Not without me,” said Leon, who for a moment stood silent, amazed at the + change in Edith's voice and manner. “You must not leave your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not come to Dalton Hall,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not? Who can keep me out?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins,” said Edith. “I will ask his protection against you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins!” sneered Leon. “Let him try it if he dares.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not interfere with me,” said Edith, “nor touch me.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not go without me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go, and alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not.” + </p> + <p> + Edith at once walked to the door. Just as she reached it Leon seized her + arm. She struggled for a moment to get free, but in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said she, bitterly, “what a coward you are. This is not the + first time that you have laid hands on me. Let me go now, or you shall + repent.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the first time, and it won't be the last time!” cried Leon, with an + oath. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” cried Edith, in a fierce voice, “or I will stab you to the + heart!” + </p> + <p> + As she said this she raised her right hand swiftly and menacingly, and by + the dim light of the doorway Leon plainly saw a long keen dagger. In an + instant he recoiled from the sight, and dropping her arm, he started back. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you!” he cried, in an excited voice; “who wants to touch you! It + isn't you I've married, but the Hall!” + </p> + <p> + “Leon,” cried Lieutenant Dudleigh, “I will allow no violence. If there is + any more, I will betray you.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” cried Leon, with a bitter sneer. “Pooh, you dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare.” + </p> + <p> + “You will betray yourself, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. After what I've suffered for you these two days past, and + especially this night, I have but little care left about myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But won't you get your reward, curse it all!” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no reward for me now, after this,” said the other, in a + mournful voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way you talk to <i>me</i>!” said Leon, in a tone of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton has been wronged enough,” said the other. “If you dare to + annoy her further, or to harm a hair of her head, I solemnly declare that + I will turn against you.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” exclaimed Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're as bad as I am—in fact, worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate, it shall go no further. That I am resolved on.” + </p> + <p> + “Look out,” cried Leon; “don't tempt me too far. I'll remember this, by + Heaven! I'll not forget that you have threatened to betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. You are a coward, Leon, and you know it. You are afraid of + that brave girl. Miss Dalton can take care of herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton! Pooh!—Mrs. Dudleigh, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Leon, you drive me to frenzy,” cried Lieutenant Dudleigh, in a wild, + impatient voice. + </p> + <p> + “And you—what are you!” cried Leon, morosely. “Are you not always + tormenting me? Do you think that I'm going to stand you and your whims + forever? Look out! This is more of a marriage than you think.” + </p> + <p> + “Marriage!” cried the other, in a voice of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I'll go with my wife,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + Edith had waited a few moments as this altercation arose, half hoping that + in the quarrel between these two something might escape them which could + give her some ray of hope, but she heard nothing of that kind. Yet as she + listened to the voices of the two, contrasting so strangely in their + tones, and to their language, which was so very peculiar, a strange + suspicion came to her mind. + </p> + <p> + Then she hurried away back to the Hall. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go with my wife,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Coward and villain!” cried his companion. “Miss Dalton has a dagger. + You're afraid of her. I'll go too, so that you may not annoy her.” + </p> + <p> + Edith hurried away, and the others followed for a short distance, but she + soon left them behind. She reached the little door at the east end. She + passed through, and bolted it on the inner side. She hurried up to her + rooms, and on reaching them fell fainting to the floor. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — THE WIFE OF LEON DUDLEIGH. + </h2> + <p> + Sickness and delirium came mercifully to Edith; for if health had + continued, the sanity of the body would have been purchased at the expense + of that of the mind. Mrs. Dunbar nursed her most tenderly and assiduously. + A doctor attended her. For long weeks she lay in a brain-fever, between + life and death. In the delirium that disturbed her brain, her mind + wandered back to the happy days at Plympton Terrace. Once more she played + about the beautiful shores of Derwentwater; once more she rambled with her + school-mates under the lofty trees, or rode along through winding avenues. + At time, however, her thoughts reverted to the later events of her life; + and once or twice to that time of horror in the chapel. + </p> + <p> + The doctor came and went, and satisfied himself with seeing after the + things that conduced to the recovery of his patient. He was from London, + and had been sent for by Wiggins, who had no confidence in the local + physicians. At length the disease was quelled, and after nearly two months + Edith began to be conscious of her situation. She came back to sensibility + with feelings of despair, and her deep agitation of soul retarded her + recovery very greatly; for her thoughts were fierce and indignant, and she + occupied herself, as soon as she could think, with incessant plans for + escape. At last she resolved to tell the doctor all. One day when he came + she began, but, unfortunately for her, before she had spoken a dozen words + she became so excited she almost fainted. Thereupon the doctor very + properly forbade her talking about any of her affairs whatever until she + was better. “Your friends,” said he, “have cautioned me against this, and + I have two things to regard—their wishes and your recovery.” Once or + twice after this Edith tried to speak about her situation, but the doctor + promptly checked her. Soon after he ceased his visits. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all drawbacks, however, she gradually recovered, and at last + became able to move about the room. She might even have gone out if she + had wished, but she did not feel inclined. + </p> + <p> + One day, while looking over some of her books which were lying on her + table, she found a newspaper folded inside one of them. She took it and + opened it carelessly, wondering what might be going on in that outside + world of which she had known so little for so long a time. A mark along + the margin attracted her attention. It was near the marriage notices. She + looked there, and saw the following: + </p> + <p> + “On the 12th instant, at the Dalton family chapel, by the Rev. John Mann, + of Dalton, Captain Leon Dudleigh, to Edith, only daughter of the late + Frederick Dalton, Enquire, of Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + This paper was dated November 20, 1840. This was, as she knew, February + 26, 1841. + </p> + <p> + The horror that passed through her at the sight of this was only inferior + to that which she had felt on the eventful evening itself. Hitherto in all + her gloom and grief she had regarded it as a mere mockery—a brutal + kind of practical joke, devised out of pure malignity, and perhaps + instigated or connived at by Wiggins. She had never cared to think much + about it. But now, on being thus confronted with a formal notice in a + public newspaper, the whole affair suddenly assumed a new character—a + character which was at once terrible in itself, and menacing to her whole + future. This formal notice seemed to her like the seal of the law on that + most miserable affair; and she asked herself in dismay if such a ceremony + could be held as binding. + </p> + <p> + She had thought much already over one thing which had been revealed on + that eventful evening. The name Mowbray was an assumed one. The villain + who had taken it now called himself Leon Dudleigh. Under that name he + married her, and under that name his marriage was published. His friend + and her betrayer—that most miserable scoundrel who had called + himself Lieutenant Dudleigh—had gained her consent to this marriage + for the express purpose of betraying her into the hands of her worst + enemy. His name might or might not be Dudleigh, but she now saw that the + true name of the other must be Dudleigh, and that Mowbray had been assumed + for some other purpose. But how he came by such a name she could not tell. + She had no knowledge whatever of Sir Lionel; and whether Leon was any + relation to him or not she was totally ignorant. + </p> + <p> + This gave a new and most painful turn to all her thoughts, and she began + to feel anxious to know what had occurred since that evening. Accordingly, + on Mrs. Dunbar's return to her room, she began to question her. Thus far + she had said but little to this woman, whom for so long a time she had + regarded with suspicion and aversion. Mrs. Dunbar's long and anxious care + of her, her constant watchfulness, her eager inquiries after her health—all + availed nothing, since all seemed to be nothing more than the selfish + anxiety of a jailer about the health of a prisoner whose life it may be + his interest to guard. + </p> + <p> + “Who sent this?” asked Edith, sternly, pointing to the paper. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar hesitated, and after one hasty glance at Edith her eyes sought + the floor. + </p> + <p> + “The captain,” said she at length. + </p> + <p> + “The captain?—what captain?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Captain—Dudleigh,” said Mrs. Dunbar, with the same hesitation. + </p> + <p> + Edith paused. This confirmed her suspicions as to his true name. “Where is + he now?” she asked at length. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” said Mrs. Dunbar, “where he is—just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he ever been here?” asked Edith, after another pause. + </p> + <p> + “Ever been here!” repeated Mrs. Dunbar, looking again at Edith with + something like surprise. “Why, he lives here—now. I thought you knew + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Lives here!” exclaimed Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Edith was silent. This was very unpleasant intelligence. Evidently this + Leon Dudleigh and Wiggins were partners in this horrible matter. + </p> + <p> + “How does he happen to live here?” she asked at length, anxious to + discover, if possible, his purpose. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar again hesitated. Edith had to repeat her question, and even + then her answer was given with evident reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “He says that you—I mean that he—is your—that is, that + he is—is master,” said Mrs. Dunbar, in a hesitating and confused + way. + </p> + <p> + “Master!” repeated Edith. + </p> + <p> + “He says that he is your—your—” Mrs. Dunbar hesitated and + looked anxiously at Edith. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does he say?” asked Edith, impatiently. “He says that he is my—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Your—your husband,” said Mrs. Dunbar, with a great effort. + </p> + <p> + At this Edith stared at her for a moment, and then covered her face with + her hands, while a shudder passed through her. This plain statement of the + case from one of her jailers made her situation seem worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + “He came here,” continued Mrs. Dunbar, in a low tone, “the day after your + illness. He brought his horse and dog, and some—things.” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked up with a face of agony. + </p> + <p> + “He said,” continued Mrs. Dunbar, “that you were—married—to—him; + that you were now his—his wife, and that he intended to live at the + Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that other one here too?” asked Edith, after a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “What other one?” + </p> + <p> + “The smaller villain—the one that used to call himself Lieutenant + Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the real name of that person?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Edith now said nothing for a long time; and as she sat there, buried in + her own miserable thoughts, Mrs. Dunbar looked at her with a face full of + sad and earnest sympathy—a face which had a certain longing, wistful + expression, as though she yearned over this stricken heart, and longed to + offer some consolation. But Edith, even if she had been willing to receive + any expressions of sympathy from one like Mrs. Dunbar, whom she regarded + as a miserable tool of her oppressor, or a base ally, was too far down in + the depths of her own profound affliction to be capable of consolation. + Bad enough it was already, when she had to look back over so long a course + of deceit and betrayal at the hands of one whom she had regarded as her + best friend; but now to find that all this treachery had culminated in a + horror like this, that she was claimed and proclaimed by an outrageous + villain as his wife—this was beyond all endurance. The blackness of + that perfidy, and the terror of her memories, which till now had wrung her + heart, fled away, and gave place to the most passionate indignation. + </p> + <p> + And now, at the impulse of these more fervid feelings, her whole outraged + nature underwent a change. Till now she had felt most strongly the + emotions of grief and melancholy; now, however, these passed away, and + were succeeded by an intensity of hate, a vehemence of wrath, and a hot + glow of indignant passion that swept away all other feelings. All the + pride of her haughty spirit was roused; her soul became instinct with a + desperate resolve; and mingling with these feelings there was a scorn for + her enemies as beings of a baser nature, and a stubborn determination to + fight them all till the bitter end. + </p> + <p> + All this change was manifest in her look and tone as she again addressed + Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + “You have all mistaken me,” said she, with bitter hostility; “you have + imagined that you had to deal with some silly child. But this shall do + none of you any good. You may kill me among you, but I am not afraid to + die. Death itself will be welcome rather than submission to that foul + miscreant, that vulgar coward, who takes advantage of a contemptible + trick, and pretends that there was a marriage. I say this to you—that + I defy him and all of you, and will defy you all—yes, to the bitter + end; and you may go and tell this to your wretched confederates.” + </p> + <p> + As Edith said this, Mrs. Dunbar looked at her; and if there could have + appeared upon that face the signs of a wounded heart—a heart cut and + stung to its inmost fibre—the face that confronted Edith showed all + this at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Confederates!” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you and Wiggins and this villain who, you say, is now living here.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Leon!” + </p> + <p> + “Leon! Is that his name! Leon Dudleigh! Well, whatever name he chooses to + bear, it is all the same; though it seems strange that he should adopt a + stainless name like that of Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is his name,” said Mrs. Dunbar, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Till he assumes some other,” said Edith. “But they are all assumed + names,” she continued, bitterly—“Mowbray and Dudleigh and Dunbar + also, no doubt. Why you should call yourself Dunbar I can't imagine. You + seem to me to be Mrs. Wiggins. Wiggins at least can not be an assumed + name.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, which were spoken on the spur of the moment, out of mere + hostility toward Mrs. Dunbar, and the desire to wound her, the latter + recoiled as though from some sudden blow, and looked at Edith with awful + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are terrible,” she said, in a low voice—“you are terrible. You + can not imagine what horrors you give expression to.” + </p> + <p> + To this Edith paid no attention. It sounded old. It was like what Wiggins + had frequently said to her. + </p> + <p> + “I can not imagine,” she continued, “any human being so utterly + bad-hearted, so altogether vile and corrupt, as this man who now calls + himself Leon Dudleigh. In pure fiendish malignity, and in all those + qualities which are abhorrent and shameful, he surpasses even, that + arch-villain Wiggins himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, stop!” cried Mrs. Dunbar. “I can not bear this. You must not talk + so. How do you know! You know nothing about Leon. Oh, how you wrong him! + Leon has had bad associates, but he himself is not bad. After all, Leon + has naturally a noble heart. He was a brave, high-minded boy. Oh, if you + could but know what he once was. You wrong Leon. You wrong him most + deeply. Oh, how deeply you wrong him!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar had said all this in a kind of feverish agitation, speaking + quickly and vehemently. Never before had Edith seen any thing approaching + to excitement in this strong-hearted, vigilant-eyed, self-contained woman, + and the sight of such emotion amazed her. But for this woman and her + feelings she cared nothing whatever; and so in the midst of her words she + waved her hand and interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tired,” she said; “I can not stand any more excitement just now. I + wish to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + At this. Mrs. Dunbar arose and walked wearily out of the room. + </p> + <p> + One thing at least Edith considered as quite evident front Mrs. Dunbar's + agitation and eager championship of “Leon,” and that was that this Leon + had all along been a confederate of Wiggins and this woman, and that the + so-called “Lieutenant Dudleigh” had been one of the same band of + conspirators. It seemed evident now to her that the whole plot had been + contrived among them. Perhaps Wiggins was to get one half of the estate, + and this Leon Dudleigh the other half. + </p> + <p> + Still she did not feel altogether sure, and in order to ascertain as near + as possible the truth as to her present position and prospects, she + determined to see Wiggins himself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — JAILER AND CAPTIVE. + </h2> + <p> + On the following day Edith felt stronger, and calling Mrs. Dunbar, she + sent her to Wiggins with a request that the latter should meet her in the + drawing-room. She then walked through the long hall on her way down + stairs. Every thing looked as it did before her illness, except that one + change had taken place which arrested her attention the moment she entered + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Over the chimney-piece a portrait had been hung—a portrait in a + large gilt frame, which looked as though it had been painted but recently. + It was a portrait of Leon Dudleigh. On catching sight of this she felt as + if she had been rooted to the spot. She looked at it for a short time with + compressed lips, frowning brow, and clinched hands after which she walked + away and flung herself into a chair. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins was evidently in no hurry, for it was more than half an hour + before he made his appearance. Edith sat in her chair, waiting for his + approach. The traces of her recent illness were very visible in the pallor + of her face, and in her thin, transparent hands. Her large eyes seemed + larger than ever, as they glowed luminously from their cavernous depths, + with a darker hue around each, as is often seen in cases of sickness or + debility, while upon her face there was an expression of profound sadness + that seemed fixed and unalterable. + </p> + <p> + But in the tone with which she addressed Wiggins there was nothing like + sadness. It was proud, cold, stern, and full of bitterest hostility. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent for you,” she began, “because you, Wiggins, are concerned as + much as I myself am in the issue of this business about which I am going + to speak. I have suffered a very gross outrage, but I still have + confidence both in a just Heaven and in the laws of the land. This + ruffian, who now it seems calls himself Leon Dudleigh—your + confederate—has, with your assistance, cheated me into taking part + in a ceremony which he calls a marriage. What you propose to gain for + yourself by this I can not imagine; for it seems to me that it would have + been rather for your advantage to remain the sole master of your ward than + to help some one else to share your authority. But for your purposes I + care nothing—the evil is done. Yet if this Leon Dudleigh or you + think that I will sit tamely down under such an intolerable wrong, you are + miserably mistaken. Sooner or later I shall be avenged. Sooner or later I + shall gain my freedom, and then my turn shall come. I wish you to see that + there is danger before you; and I wish you also to understand that it is + for your interest to be my sole master, as you were before. I have sent + for you, then, to ask you, Wiggins, to expel this man Leon Dudleigh from + the house. Be my guardian again, and I will be your ward. More: I agree to + remain here in a state of passive endurance for a reasonable time—one + or two years, for instance; and I promise during that time to make no + complaint. Do this—drive this man away—and you shall have no + reason to regret it. On the other hand; remember there is an alternative. + Villain though this man is, I may come to terms with him, and buy my + liberty from him by giving him half of the estate, or even the whole of + it. In that case it seems to me that you would lose every thing, for Leon + Dudleigh is as great a villain as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + As Edith spoke, Wiggins listened most attentively. He had seated himself + not far from her, and after one look at her had fixed his eyes on the + floor. He waited patiently until she had said all she wished to say. Edith + herself had not hoped to gain much by this interview, but she hoped at + least to be able to discover something concerning the nature of the + partnership which she supposed to exist among her enemies, and something + perhaps about their plans. The averted face of Wiggins seemed to her the + attitude of conscious guilt; but she felt a little puzzled at signs of + emotion which he exhibited, and which seemed hardly the result of + conscious guilt. Once or twice a perceptible shudder passed through his + frame; his bent head bowed lower; he covered his face with his hands; and + at her last words there came from him a low moan that seemed to indicate + suffering. + </p> + <p> + “It's his acting,” she thought. “I wonder what his next pretense will be?” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins sat for some minutes without saying a word. When at length he + raised his head he did not look at Edith, but fastened his eyes on + vacancy, and went on to speak in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Your remarks,” said he, “are all based on a misconception. This man is no + confederate of mine. I have no confederate. I—I work out my purpose—by + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I wish that I could believe this,” said Edith; “but + unfortunately Mrs. Dunbar espouses his cause with so much warmth and + enthusiasm that I am forced to conclude that this Leon Dudleigh must be a + very highly valued or very valuable friend to both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “In this case,” said Wiggins, “Mrs. Dunbar and I have different feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of feeling gratified at this disclaimer of any connection with + Leon Dudleigh, Edith felt dissatisfied, and somewhat disconcerted. It + seemed to her that Wiggins was trying to baffle her and throw her off the + right track. She had hoped that by speaking out frankly her whole mind she + might induce him to come to some agreement with her; but by his answers + she saw that he was not in the least degree affected by her warnings, or + her threats, or her offers. + </p> + <p> + “This Leon Dudleigh,” said she, “has all along acted sufficiently like a + confederate of yours to make me think that he is one.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By coming into these grounds at all times; by having privileges equal in + all respects to your own; by handing over those privileges to his spy and + emissary—the one who took the name of Lieutenant Dudleigh. Surely + all this is enough to make me think that he must be your confederate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are altogether mistaken,” said Wiggins, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “He told some idle story once,” said Edith, anxious to draw more out of + Wiggins than these short answers, “about some power which he had over you. + He asserted that you were afraid of him. He said that you dared not keep + him out of the park. He said that his power over you arose from his + knowledge of certain past crimes of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “When he said that,” remarked Wiggins, “he said what was false.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, did you allow him to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I did so for reasons that I do not feel at liberty to explain—just + now. I will only say that the reasons were altogether different from those + which he stated.” + </p> + <p> + Of this Edith did not believe a word; yet she felt completely baffled, and + did not know what to say to this man, who thus met all her assertions with + denials, and spoke in the calm, lofty tone of conscious truth. But this, + she thought, was only his “acting.” + </p> + <p> + “I only hope that this is so,” said she; “but supposing that it is so, I + should like very much to know what you feel disposed to do. The claim that + this man asserts over me is utterly false. It is a mockery. If he is + really not your confederate, you will see, I am sure, that it is not for + your own interest to sustain him in his attempt to maintain his claim. I + wish, therefore, to know exactly what it is that you feel willing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Your situation,” said Wiggins, “is a most unhappy one. I will do all that + I can to prevent it from becoming more so. If this man annoys you, I will + defend you against him, whatever it may cost.” + </p> + <p> + This sounded well; yet still Edith was not satisfied. It seemed to her too + much like an empty promise which he had no idea of fulfilling. + </p> + <p> + “How will you defend me?” she asked. “This man lives here now. He asserts + that he has the right to do so. He has published what he calls my marriage + to him in the newspapers. He calls himself my husband. All this is a wrong + and an insult to me. His presence here is a perpetual menace. When he is + absent he leaves a reminder of himself,” she continued, in a more bitter + tone, glancing toward the portrait. “Now I wish to know what you will do. + Will you prevent him from coming here? Will you send him away, either in + your name or in mine? You are easily able to keep out my friends; will you + keep out my enemies?” + </p> + <p> + “This man,” said Wiggins, “shall soon give you no more trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon—what do you mean by soon?” asked Edith, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as my plans will allow me to proceed to extremities with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your plans!” repeated Edith. “You are always bringing up your plans. + Whatever is concerned, you plead your plans. They form a sufficient excuse + for you to refuse the commonest justice. And yet what I ask is certainly + for your own interests.” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew me better,” said Wiggins, “you would not appeal to my + interests. I have not generally fashioned my life with regard to my own + advantage. Some day you will see this. You, at least, should be the last + one to complain of my plans, since they refer exclusively to the + vindication of your injured father.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have said before,” said Edith, coldly. “Those plans must be very + convenient, since you use them to excuse every possible act of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not have to wait long now,” said Wiggins, in a weary voice, as + though this interview was too much for his endurance—“not very long. + I have heard to-day of something which is very favorable. Since the trial + certain documents and other articles have been kept by the authorities, + and an application has been made for these, with a view to the + establishment of your father's innocence. I have recently heard that the + application is about to be granted.” + </p> + <p> + “You always answer my appeals for common justice,” said Edith, with + unchanged coldness, “by some reference to my father. It seems to me that + if you had wished to vindicate his innocence, it would have been better to + do so while he was alive. If you had done so, it might have been better + for yourself in the end. But now these allusions are idle and worse than + useless. They have no effect on me whatever. I value them at what they are + worth.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Edith rose and left the room. She returned to her own + apartments with a feeling of profound dejection and disappointment. Of + Wiggins she could make nothing. He promised, but his promises were too + vague to afford satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Leon Dudleigh was away now, but would probably be back before long. As she + had failed with Wiggins, only one thing remained, and that was to see + Leon. She was resolved to meet him at once on his arrival, and fight out + once for all that battle which was inevitable between herself and him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — THE IRREPRESSIBLE STRUGGLE. + </h2> + <p> + About a month passed away, during which time Edith, in spite of her + troubles, grew stronger every day. Youth and a good, constitution were on + her side, and enabled her to rally rapidly from the prostration to which + she had been subjected. + </p> + <p> + At length one morning she learned that Leon had arrived at the Hall. This + news gave her great satisfaction, for she had been waiting long, and felt + anxious to see him face to face, to tell him her own mind, and gather from + him, if possible, what his intentions were. An interview with him under + such peculiar circumstances might have been painful had she been less + courageous or less self-possessed; but to one with such lofty pride as + hers, and filled as she was with such scorn of Leon, and convinced as she + was that he was at heart an arrant coward, such an interview had nothing + in it to deter her. Suspense was worse. She wished to meet that man. + </p> + <p> + She sent word to him that she wished to see him, after which she went down + to the drawing-room and waited. Leon certainly showed no haste, for it was + as much as an hour before he made his appearance. On entering he assumed + that languid air which he had adopted on some of his former visits. He + looked carelessly at her, and then threw himself into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. Dudleigh,” said he, “this is an unexpected pleasure. 'Pon my + life, I had no idea that you would volunteer to do me so much honor!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not Mrs. Dudleigh,” said Edith, “as you very well know. I am Miss + Dalton, and if you expect me to have any thing to say to you, you must + call me by my proper name. You will suffer dearly enough yet for your + crimes, and have no need to add to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear,” said Leon, “that is kind and wife-like, and all that. It + reminds me of the way in which wives sometimes speak in the plays.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me as Miss Dalton, or you shall not speak to me at all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite evident,” said Leon, with a sneer, “that you don't know into + whose hands you've fallen.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” said Edith, contemptuously, “it has been my fortune, or + my misfortune, to understand from the first both you and Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + Leon gave a light laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Your temper,” said he, “has not improved much, at any rate. That's quite + evident. You have always shown a very peculiar idea of the way in which a + lady should speak to a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “One would suppose by that,” said Edith, “that you actually meant to hint + that you considered yourself a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am,” said Leon, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “As you have no particular birth or family,” said Edith, in her most + insolent tone, “I suppose you must rest your claims to be a gentleman + altogether on your good manners and high-toned character.” + </p> + <p> + “Birth and family!” exclaimed Leon, excitedly, “what do you know about + them! You don't know what you're talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about you, certainly,” said Edith. “I suppose you are some + mere adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + Leon looked at her for a moment with a glance of intense rage; and as she + calmly returned his gaze, she noticed that peculiarity of his frowning + brow a red spot in the middle, with deep lines. + </p> + <p> + “You surely in your wildest dreams,” said she, “never supposed that I took + you for a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you,” cried Leon, stammering in his passion “let me tell you + that I associate with the proudest in the land.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” replied Edith, quietly. “Am <i>I</i> not here! But you are + only tolerated.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” cried Leon, “you shall suffer for this.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Edith: “for once in your life you have spoken to me + without insulting me. You have called me by my right name. I could smile + at your threat under any circumstances, but now I can forgive it.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” growled Leon, “that you are riding the high horse + somewhat, and that this is a rather queer tone for you to assume toward + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I always assume a high tone toward low people.” + </p> + <p> + “Low people! What do you mean!” cried Leon, his face purple with rage. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know any name better than that for you and your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “The name of Dudleigh,” said Leon, “is one of the proudest in the land.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: SHE CONFRONTED HIM WITH A COLD, STONY GLARE.} + </p> + <p> + “I swear by all that's holy that you are really my wife. The marriage was + a valid one. No law can break it. The banns were published in the village + church. All the villagers heard them. Wiggins kept himself shut up so that + he knew nothing about it. The clergyman is the vicar of Dalton—the + Rev. Mr. Munn. It has been, published in the papers. In the eye of the law + you are no longer Miss Dalton, you are Mrs. Leon Dudleigh. You are my + wife!” + </p> + <p> + At these words, in spite of Edith's pride and courage, there came over her + a dark fear that all this might indeed be as he said. The mention of the + published banns disturbed her, and shook that proud and obstinate + conviction which she had thus far entertained that the scene in the chapel + was only a brutal practical joke. It might be far more. It might not be a + mockery after all. It might be good in the eye of the law—that law + whose injustice had been shown to her in the terrible experience of her + father; and if this were so, what then? + </p> + <p> + A pang of anguish shot through her heart as this terrific thought + occurred. But the pang passed away, and with it the terror passed also. + Once more she called to her aid that stubborn Dalton fortitude and Dalton + pride which had thus far so well sustained her. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your</i> wife!” she exclaimed, with a loathing and a scorn in her face + and in her voice that words could not express, at the sight of which even + Leon, with all his insolence, was cowed—“<i>your</i> wife! Do you + think you can affect me by lies like these?” + </p> + <p> + “Lies!” repeated Leon—“it's the truth. You are my wife, and you must + sign these papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” said Edith, resuming her former coolness. + </p> + <p> + “Do you dare to refuse me this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see any daring about it. Of course I refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign them!” roared Leon, with an oath. + </p> + <p> + Edith smiled lightly and turned away. + </p> + <p> + Leon rushed toward her with a menacing gesture. But Edith was aware of + this. In an instant she turned, snatched a dagger from her breast which + had been concealed there, and confronted him with a cold, stony glare. + </p> + <p> + “I well know,” said she, “what an utter coward you are. While I have this + you will not dare to touch me. It is better for you, on the whole, just + now, that you are a coward, for this dagger—which, by-the-way, I + always carry—is poisoned. It is an old family affair—and that + shows you one of the advantages of having a family—and so deadly is + the poison that a scratch would kill you. Yes, there is some advantage in + being a coward, for if you dared to touch me, I should strike you with + this as I would strike a mad dog!” + </p> + <p> + Leon stood before her, a coward, as she knew and as she said, not daring + to come within reach of her terrible weapon, which she upheld with a + deadly purpose plainly visible in her eye. Yet it seemed as though, with + his great muscular power, he might easily have grasped that slender arm + and wrenched the dagger away. But this was a thing which he did not dare + to attempt; the risk was too great. He might have received a scratch in + the struggle with that young girl who confronted him so steadily, and who, + with all her fragile beauty, was so calm, so proud, and so resolute. + </p> + <p> + Edith waited for a few moments, and then walked quietly away, trusting + implicitly to Leon's cowardice, and without another word, or even another + look, she left the room and returned to her own apartments. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — A FIGHT IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP + </h2> + <p> + It will have been seen already that Leon had taken up his abode at Dalton + Hall immediately after that marriage ceremony as the husband of Edith. Her + illness had hitherto prevented him from having any understanding with her, + and his own affairs called him away before her recovery. With Wiggins he + remained on the same footing as before; nor did he find himself able to + alter that footing in the slightest degree. Whatever Wiggins may have + thought or felt on the subject of the marriage, he revealed it to no one; + and Leon found himself compelled to wait for Edith's recovery before he + could accomplish any thing definite with regard to his own position. On + his return, to Dalton Hall he learned that she was convalescent, and he + was much surprised at her immediate request for an interview. + </p> + <p> + With the result of that interview he had but little reason to be + satisfied. He felt disappointed, enraged, and humiliated. Edith had been + perfectly free from all fear of him. The young girl had shown herself a + virago. His insults she had returned with mocking sarcasms, his threats + she had treated with utter contempt, and finally she had proved him to his + own face to be a coward. Over the recollection of that scene he could only + gnash his teeth in fruitless rage. The more he thought of that interview, + the more bitter grew his mortification; and at length he resolved to force + matters to a climax at once by coming to a distinct and final + understanding with Wiggins himself. + </p> + <p> + Leon had enjoyed the freedom of the house long enough to know where + Wiggins's room was, and into that room he intruded himself abruptly on the + following day. It was in this room that Wiggins spent the greater part of + his time, carrying on a vigorous though not very extensive correspondence, + and moving the wires of those plans at which he had hinted to Edith. He + was here now, and as Leon entered he looked up with a silent stare. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not stand this any longer,” burst forth Leon, abruptly and + vehemently. “I'm in terrible difficulties. I've been waiting long enough. + You must side with me actively, for your assistance is absolutely + necessary to bring that mad girl to terms. I'm married to her. She's my + wife. I must have control of this place at once; and I'll tolerate no + farther opposition from her, or humbug from you. I've come now to tell you + this finally and peremptorily.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not your wife,” said Wiggins, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “She is.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a trick. The ceremony was a miserable sham.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no sham. It was done legally, and can not be undone.” + </p> + <p> + “Legally! Pooh! The whole thing was a farce. It's no marriage. Legally! + Why, what has that miserable affair to do with the law?” + </p> + <p> + “What has it to do? It has every thing to do. The whole thing was done in + a perfectly legal manner. The banns were regularly published by the vicar + of Dalton in Dalton Church, and in that chapel Edith Dalton was regularly + and legally married to Leon Dudleigh by the Rev. Mr. Munn. What more is + wanting to make it legal? Go and ask Mr. Munn himself.” + </p> + <p> + “The banns!” exclaimed Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the banns,” said Leon. “You never heard of that, perhaps. If you + doubt me, go and ask Munn.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not you that she married!” cried Wiggins, after a pause, in which + he seemed struck rather painfully by Leon's last information. “It was not + you—it was that other one. He called himself Dudleigh—a + miserable assumed name!” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing about it,” said Leon, “whether it was assumed or not. + And as to the marriage, it was to me. I held her hand; I put the ring on + her finger; she married me, and no other. But I'm not going to talk about + that. I've simply come here to insist on your active help. I won't stand + any more of this humbug. I've already told you that I know you.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins remained silent for some time. + </p> + <p> + “So you did,” said he at last, in a low voice; “but what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, only this: you had to let me do what I chose. And I intend to keep a + good hold of you yet, my fine fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins placed both his elbows on the table in front of him, and looked + fixedly at Leon for some time. + </p> + <p> + “You did say once,” said he, slowly, “that you knew me, and the + possibility that it might be true induced me to tolerate you here for some + time. I trusted to Miss Dalton's innate good sense to save her from any + danger from one like you; but it appears that I was mistaken. At the + present moment, however, I may as well inform you that you have not the + slightest idea who I am, and more than this, that I have not the slightest + objection to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Leon, with ill-disguised uneasiness, “it's all very well for + you to take that tone, but it won't do with me. I know who you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Who am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? who? Say it! If you did know, you would not imagine that you had any + power over me. Your power is a dream, and your knowledge of me is a sham. + Who am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Leon, with still greater uneasiness and uncertainty in his + face and voice, “you are not John Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think I am?” asked Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “Who? who? Why, you came from Australia.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are some convict who got acquainted with Dalton out there, and + have come back here to try to get control of these estates.” + </p> + <p> + “But how could I do that? If this were so, do you suppose that Wiggins of + Liverpool would allow it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has a share in the business. He goes halves with you, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “If he wanted any shares at all in such a transaction, he might have all, + and therefore he would be a fool to take half. Your theory, I infer, is + somewhat lame. And what of Mrs. Dunbar? Is she an Australian convict too?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dunbar?—who is she? What! that crazy housekeeper? She looks as + though she may have just been released from some lunatic asylum.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins made no immediate reply, and sat for a few moments in thought. + Then he looked at Leon and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have got hold of a part of the truth—just enough to + mislead you. It is true that I have been in Australia, though why you + should suppose that I was a convict I do not know. More: I went out there + on account of Dalton, and for no other reason. While there I saw much of + him, and gained his whole confidence. He told me his whole story + unreservedly. He believed me to be his friend. He confided every thing to + me. You must have heard of his trial, and his strange persistence in + refusing to say who the guilty party was.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Leon, with a laugh. “A good idea that, when the guilty + party was himself.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not himself,” said Wiggins, “and before long the world shall know + who it was, for that is the one business of my life since my return, to + which I have sacrificed all other concerns. In my attention to this I have + even neglected Miss Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “She does not appear to think that you have neglected her,” said Leon, + with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + To this Wiggins paid no attention. + </p> + <p> + “Dalton,” said he, “told me all before he died. He thought of his + daughter, and though he had suffered himself, yet he thought on his + death-bed that it would be a sin to leave to her such a legacy of shame. + It was this that broke his obstinate silence, and made him tell his secret + to me. And here, Leon Dudleigh, is a thing in which you are concerned. + </p> + <p> + “I!” exclaimed Leon, in astonishment, not unmingled with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you presently. I will simply remark now that I am following + out his wishes, and am working for Miss Dalton, as he himself would have + worked, to redeem her name.” + </p> + <p> + “The name is hers no longer,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “She seems to give you a precious hard time of it too, I should say, and + does not altogether appreciate your self-denying and wonderfully + disinterested efforts.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not treated her with sufficient consideration,” said Wiggins. “I + misunderstood her character. I began altogether wrong. I see now that I + ought to have given her more of my confidence, or, better yet, that I + ought not to have brought her here till the work was done. Well,” he + added, with a sigh, “my chief consolation is that it will be all right in + the end.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all rubbish,” said Leon. “You are not what you pretend to be. You + are not her guardian. You are an interloper and a swindler. You shall + remain here no longer. I am her husband, and I order you off the premises + at once.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not her husband, and I am her guardian,” said Wiggins, calmly. “I + was appointed by her father on his death-bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it. Besides, your name is not Wiggins at all.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? You know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: DOTARD! DO YOU TALK OF VENGEANCE?} + </p> + <p> + “I know Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiggins of Liverpool, perhaps, but there are more Wigginses in the world + than that.” + </p> + <p> + “A court of law will show that—” + </p> + <p> + “You will not go to a court of law. That is my task. And mark me,” + continued Wiggins, with thrilling emphasis, “when a court of law takes up + the subject of the Dalton estates or the Dalton name, then it will be the + turn for you and yours to tremble.” + </p> + <p> + “Tremble!” exclaimed Leon, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” repeated Wiggins. “Your father—” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “When Dalton died,” continued Wiggins, “he left his papers. Among them was + a letter of which he himself told me. If he had produced that letter on + his trial, he would have escaped, and the guilty man would have been + punished. The letter was written by the real forger. It inclosed the + forged check to Dalton, asking him to draw the money and pay certain + pressing debts. The writer of that letter was your own father—Lionel + Dudleigh!” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” cried Leon, starting up, with terrible excitement in his + face—an excitement, too, which was mingled with unspeakable dread. + </p> + <p> + “It's true,” said Wiggins, calmly, “and the letter can be proved.” + </p> + <p> + “It can not.” + </p> + <p> + “It can, and by the best of testimony.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; but there is something more. With the murder trial you are + no doubt familiar. In fact, I take it for granted that you are familiar + with Dalton's case <i>in all its bearings</i>,” added Wiggins, in a tone + of deep meaning. “In that murder trial, then, you are aware that a Maltese + cross was found on the scene of murder, and created much excitement. You + know what part it had in the trial. I now inform you that I have proof + which can show beyond a doubt that this Maltese cross was the property of + your father—Lionel Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie—an infernal lie!” said Leon, in a hoarse voice. His + excitement had now become terrible. + </p> + <p> + “It's true—all true,” continued Wiggins. “It can all be proved by a + witness that can not be impeached. Yes, Leon Dudleigh, you yourself would + be forced to accept the testimony of that witness.” + </p> + <p> + “What witness?” said Leon, in a voice that was scarcely audible from + conflicting emotions. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at him earnestly, and then said, in a low, deep, solemn + voice, + </p> + <p> + “Leon Dudleigh, that witness is <i>your mother!</i>” + </p> + <p> + The other started as though he had been shot. + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” he almost screamed—“my mother! why, she—she is + dead—dead long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you find that out?” said Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “She's dead! she's dead!” repeated Leon, as though by assertion he could + make it true. + </p> + <p> + “She is not dead,” said Wiggins, in an awful voice, “though all these + years she has lived a living death. She is not dead. She is alive, and she + now stands ready, when the hour comes, though with an agonized heart, to + give that testimony which, years ago, she dared not and could not give. + She has allowed the innocent to suffer, and the guilty to go free, but now + she will do so no longer. The work upon which I have been engaged is + almost complete. The preparations are made, and this very day I am going + to Liverpool to perform the last acts that are necessary toward + vindicating the memory of Dalton, establishing his innocence, and + punishing the guilty. As for you, you can do nothing here, and I have + resolved to punish you for what you have done. I shall show you no mercy. + If you want to save yourself, leave the country, for otherwise I swear you + will never be safe from my vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance!” said Leon, in low, menacing tones. “Dotard! do <i>you</i> + talk of vengeance? You do not understand the meaning of that word. Wait + till you see what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words he left the room. + </p> + <p> + That evening Wiggins left for Liverpool. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. — THE HUSBAND'S LAST APPEAL. + </h2> + <p> + Early on the following day Edith received a request from Leon for another + interview. This request was acceptable in every way, for the last + interview had been no more satisfactory to her than to him, and she could + not help hoping that something more definite might result from a new one. + She therefore went down, and found him already in the room. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion Leon showed nothing of that languor which he had + previously affected. He appeared, on the contrary, uneasy, nervous, and + impatient. So abstracted was he by his own thoughts that he did not notice + her entrance. She sat down and waited for a little while, after which she + said, quietly, + </p> + <p> + “Did you wish to see me, Captain—a—Dudleigh?” Leon started, + then frowned; then, after a little silence, he began abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “You may deny it as much as you choose, but it's no use. You are actually + married to me. You are really and truly my wife, both in the eyes of man + and in the eyes of the law. From that marriage nothing can ever deliver + you but a divorce.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” said Edith, quietly. “Even if that miserable + performance should turn out to be a marriage—which is absurd—still + there is one other thing that can free me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?—and what may that be?” + </p> + <p> + “Death!” said Edith, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + Leon turned pale. “Is that a threat?” he asked at length, in a trembling + voice. “Whose death do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Edith made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Leon, after a pause, going on with his former train of + thought, “at any rate you are my wife, and you can not help it. You may + deny it as much as you please, but that will not avail. In spite of this, + however, I do not molest you, although I might so easily do it. I never + trouble you with my presence. I am very forbearing. Few would do as I do. + Yet I have rights, and some of them, at least, I am determined to assert. + Now, on the whole, it is well for you—and you ought to see it—that + you have one here who occupies the peculiar position toward you which I + do. If it were not for me you would be altogether in the power of Wiggins. + He is your guardian or your jailer, whichever you choose to call him. He + could shut you up in the vaults of Dalton Hall if he chose—and he + probably will do that very thing before long—for who is there to + prevent him? I am the only one who can stand between you and him. I am + your only hope. You do not know who and what this man is. You think you + know him, but you don't. You think of him as a villain and a tyrant. Let + me tell you that in your bitterest hate of that man you have never begun + to conceive the fraction of his villainy. Let me tell you that he is one + who passes your comprehension. Let me tell you that, however much you may + hate me, if I were to tell you what Wiggins is, the feelings that you have + toward me would be almost affection, compared to those which you would + have toward him.” + </p> + <p> + Leon paused. He had spoken most earnestly and vehemently; but upon Edith + these words produced no effect. She believed that this was a last effort + to work upon her feelings by exciting her fears of Wiggins. She did not + believe him capable of speaking the truth to her, and thus his words + produced no result. + </p> + <p> + “If you had not been married to me when you were,” continued Leon, “I + solemnly assure you that by this time you would have been where hope could + never reach you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really,” said Edith, “Captain—a—Dudleigh, all this is + excessively childish. By such an absurd preamble as this you, of course, + must mean something. All this, however, can have no possible effect on me, + for the simple reason that I consider it spoken for effect. I hope, + therefore, that you will be kind enough to come at once to business, and + say precisely what it is that you want of me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no absurd preamble,” said Leon, gloomily. “It is not nonsense, as I + could soon show you. There is no human being who has done so much wrong to + you and yours as this Wiggins, yet you quietly allow him to be your + guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said Edith. “I allow him? Let me be free, and then you will see how + long I allow him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I mean here—in Dalton Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not allow him any thing. I am simply a prisoner. He is my jailer, + and keeps me here.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray how can I escape?” + </p> + <p> + “By siding with me.” + </p> + <p> + “With you?” asked Edith—“and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you side with me I will drive him out.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem incapable of understanding,” said Edith, “that of the two, you + yourself, both by nature and by position, are by far the more abhorrent to + me. Side with you! And is this the proposal you have to make?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that you are in no danger from me, and that you are from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, as far as danger is concerned, my prospects with Wiggins are far + preferable to my prospects with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know him. He has done terrible things—deeds of + horror.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—what have you done? But perhaps I have mistaken you. When + you ask me to side with you, you may perhaps mean that I shall be at + liberty, and that when you expel Wiggins you will allow me to go also.” + </p> + <p> + At this Leon looked down in evident embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Well—not—yet,” he said, slowly. “In time, of course; but it + can not all be done just at once, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What can not be done at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Your—your freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are—a—certain difficulties in the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what can I gain by siding with you? Why should I cast off Wiggins, + and take a new jailer who has done to me a wrong far more foul and far + more intolerable than any that Wiggins ever attempted?” + </p> + <p> + “But you mistake me. I intend to let you go free, of course—that is, + in time.” + </p> + <p> + “In time!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; every thing can not be done in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “This is mere childishness. You are trifling. I am astonished that you + should speak in this way, after what you know of me.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you I will set you free—only I can not do that until I + get what I want.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is it that you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what I married you for.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Money,” said Leon, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Money,” repeated Edith, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, money,” said Leon, harshly. + </p> + <p> + “You must really apply to Wiggins, then,” said she, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “No; you yourself are the only one to whom I must apply.” + </p> + <p> + “To me? I have no money whatever. It is of no use for me to inform you + that Wiggins is all-powerful here. I thought by your professed knowledge + of his wonderful secrets that you had some great power over him, and could + get from him whatever you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you thought,” growled Leon. “I come to you, and you only, + and I ask you for money.” + </p> + <p> + “How can <i>I</i> give it?” + </p> + <p> + “By signing your name to a paper, a simple paper, which I can use. Your + signature is necessary to effect what I wish.” + </p> + <p> + “My signature? Ah! And what possible inducement can you offer me for my + signature?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what you most desire.” + </p> + <p> + “What? My freedom?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Will you drive me to the village at once?” + </p> + <p> + Leon hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not just at once, you know. You must remain here a short time, and + go through certain formalities and routine work, and attest certain things + before a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Edith smiled. + </p> + <p> + “What a simpleton you must still think me! How easy you must think it is + to impose upon me! Perhaps you think me so credulous, or so much in the + habit of confiding in you, that no such thing as doubt ever enters my + mind.” + </p> + <p> + Leon glared angrily at her. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I must have it,” he cried, in excited tones. “I must have it—by + fair means or foul.” + </p> + <p> + “But of the two ways I <i>presume</i> you have a preference for the + latter,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I must and will have it,” reiterated Leon. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you can get my signature very well—unless you forge + it; but then I suppose that will not stand in your way.” + </p> + <p> + “Now by all that is most holy,” cried Leon, vehemently, “you make me hate + you even worse than I hate Wiggins.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, these feelings of yours are a subject in which I do not take the + smallest interest.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you,” cried Leon, struggling to repress his rage, “if you sign + this paper you shall be free.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me be free first, and then I will think about it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you get free you'll refuse to sign,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “But if I were to sign first I should never be free.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be free. I promise you on the honor of a gentleman,” cried + Leon, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” said Edith, in a tone of quiet contempt, “that the security + is of too little value.” + </p> + <p> + Leon looked at her with fury in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are driving me to the most desperate measures,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that your measures have all along been as desperate as + they well can be.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear by all that's holy,” thundered Leon, “that I'll tame you yet. + I'll bring you into subjection.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then in that case,” said Edith, “my comfort will be that the + subjection can not last long.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it not?” asked Leon. + </p> + <p> + “No, it will not, as you very well know,” said Edith, in cold, measured + tones, looking steadfastly at him with what seemed like a certain solemn + warning. She rose as she said this, still looking at Leon, while he also + rose in a state of vehement excitement. + </p> + <p> + “What do you meant” he cried. “You look as blood-thirsty as an assassin.” + </p> + <p> + “I may yet become one,” said Edith, gloomily, “if this lasts much longer. + You have eyes, but you will not see. You treat me like some silly, timid + child, while I have all the time the spirit of a man. This can only end in + one way. Some one must die!” + </p> + <p> + Leon looked at her in astonishment. Her voice and her look showed that she + was in earnest, but the fragile beauty of her slender form seemed to belie + the dark meaning of her words. + </p> + <p> + “I came with a fair offer,” said he, in a voice hoarse with passion. + </p> + <p> + “You!” said Edith, in cold scorn; “you with a fair offer! Fairness and + honor and justice and truth, and all such things, are altogether unknown + to such as you.” + </p> + <p> + At this Leon frowned that peculiar frown of his, and gnawed his mustache + in his rage. + </p> + <p> + “I have spared you thus far,” said he—“I have spared you; but now, + by Heaven, you shall feel what it is to have a master!” + </p> + <p> + “You!” she cried—“you spared me? If I have escaped any injury from + you, it has been through my own courage and the cowardice of your own + heart. You my master! You will learn a terrible lesson before you become + that!” + </p> + <p> + “I have spared you,” cried Leon, now beside himself with rage—“I + have spared you, but I will spare you no longer. After this you shall know + that what I have thus far done is as nothing to that which is yet before + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What you have done!” said Edith, fixing her great wrathful eyes more + sternly upon Leon, with a look of deadly menace, and with burning + intensity of gaze, and speaking in a low tone that was tremulous with + repressed indignation—“what you have done! Let me tell you, Captain + Dudleigh, your heart's blood could never atone for the wrongs you have + done me! Beware, Sir, how you drive me to desperation. You little know + what I have in my mind to do. You have made me too familiar with the + thought of death!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Leon stared at her in silence. He seemed at last to + understand the full possibility of Edith's nature, and to comprehend that + this one whom he threatened was capable, in her despair, of making all his + threats recoil on his own head: He said nothing, and in a few moments + afterward she left the room. + </p> + <p> + As she went out of the door she encountered Hugo. He started as she came + noiselessly upon him. He had evidently been listening to all that had been + said. At this specimen of the way in which she was watched, though it + really showed her no more than what she had all along known, there arose + in Edith's mind a fresh sense of helplessness and of peril. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: EDITH SET TO WORK. } + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. — THE FUGITIVE AND THE PURSUER. + </h2> + <p> + On returning to her own room from that interview with Leon, Edith sat for + a long time involved in thought. It was evident to her now that her + situation was one full of frightful peril. The departure of Wiggins, of + which she was aware, seemed to afford additional danger. Between him and + Leon there had been what seemed to her at least the affectation of dislike + or disagreement, but now that he was gone there remained no one who would + even pretend to interpose between herself and her enemy. Even if Mrs. + Dunbar had been capable of assisting her against Leon, Edith knew that no + reliance could be placed upon her, for she had openly manifested a strong + regard for him. + </p> + <p> + This departure of Wiggins, which thus seemed to make her present position + more perilous, seemed also to Edith to afford her a better opportunity + than any she had known since her arrival of putting into execution her + long-meditated project of flight. True, there was still the same + difficulty which had been suggested once before—the want of money—but + Edith was now indifferent to this. The one thing necessary was to escape + from her new perils. If she could but get out of the Dalton grounds, she + hoped to find some lawyer who might take up her cause, and allow her + enough to supply her modest wants until that cause should be decided. But + liberty was the one thought that eclipsed all others in her estimation; + and if she could but once effect her escape from this horrible place, it + seemed to her that all other things would be easy. + </p> + <p> + The present appeared to be beyond all others the fitting time, for Wiggins + was away, and it seemed to her that in his absence the watch over her + would probably be relaxed. Her long illness would of itself have thrown + them to some extent off their guard, and render her purpose unsuspected. + By this time it would doubtless be forgotten that she had once left the + Hall by night, and it was not likely that any precaution would be taken + against a second flight on the part of one so weak as she was supposed to + be. A few days before she had made a stealthy visit to that door, and had + found, to her great relief, that no additional fastenings had been put + there. Her illness had evidently rendered any such precaution unnecessary + for the time; and since her recovery Wiggins had no doubt been too much + occupied with other things to think of this. + </p> + <p> + Now was the time, then, for flight. The danger was greater than ever + before, and the opportunity for escape better. Leon was master in the + house. The other inmates were simply his creatures. Leon Dudleigh, as he + called himself, claimed to be her husband. He asserted that claim + insolently and vehemently. She had defied him, but how long would she be + able to maintain that defiant attitude? How long could her frail strength + sustain her in a life of incessant warfare like this, even if her spirit + should continue to be as indomitable as ever? The scene of this day, and + her last parting with him, made the danger seem so imminent that it nerved + her resolution, and made her determine at all hazards to attempt her + escape that night. + </p> + <p> + But how should she escape? + </p> + <p> + Not for the first time did this question occur. For a long time she had + been brooding over it, and as she had thought it over she had devised a + plan which seemed to hold out to her some prospect of success. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, it was evident that she would have to climb over the + wall. To obtain any key by which she could open the gates was impossible. + She could find none that were at all likely to do so; besides, she was + afraid that even if she had a key, the attempt to unlock the gates might + expose her to detection and arrest by the watchful porter. The wall, + therefore, was her only hope. + </p> + <p> + Now that wall could not be climbed by her unassisted strength, but she + knew that if she had any sort of a ladder it might easily be done. The + question that arose, then, was how to procure this ladder. A wooden one + could not be of any service, for she could not carry it so far, and she + saw plainly that her attempt must be made by means of some sort of a + rope-ladder. + </p> + <p> + Having reached this conclusion, she began a diligent search among all the + articles at her disposal, and finally concluded that the bed-cord would be + exactly what she needed. In addition to this, however, something more was + required—something of the nature of a grapple or hook to secure her + rope-ladder to the top of the wall. This required a further search, but in + this also she was successful. An iron rod on the curtain pole along which + the curtains ran appeared to her to be well suited to her needs. It was + about six feet long and a quarter of an inch thick. The rod rested loosely + on the pole, and Edith was able to remove it without difficulty. + </p> + <p> + All these preliminaries had been arranged or decided upon before this + evening, and Edith had now only to take possession of the rod and the + rope, and adapt them to her wants. For this purpose she waited till dark, + and then began her work. + </p> + <p> + It was moonlight, and she was able to work without lighting a lamp, thus + securing additional secrecy. This moonlight was both an advantage and a + disadvantage, and she did not know whether to be glad or sorry about it. + It certainly facilitated her escape by showing the way, but then, on the + other hand, it rendered discovery easier. + </p> + <p> + Edith set to work, and, first of all, she removed the bed-cord. It was as + strong as was desirable, and far longer than was necessary. She doubled + part of this, and tied knots at intervals of about a foot, and in this + simple way formed what was a very good step-ladder about three yards long, + which was sufficient for her purpose. Then she removed the iron curtain + rod, and bent this in such a way that it formed a hook or grapple strong + enough for her wants. She thus had a rope-ladder, with a grappling-iron + attached, of rude construction, it is true, yet perfectly well suited to + the task before her, and so light as to be quite portable. + </p> + <p> + These preparations did not take up much time. After taking what she wanted + of the bed-cord, there was enough left to replace in the bedstead so as to + hold up the bed. She did not know what might happen, and wished to + preserve appearances in the event of Mrs. Dunbar's entrance, or in case of + her being compelled to postpone her project. From the same motive she also + replaced the curtain so as to look as it did before, securing it in its + place by means of pins. + </p> + <p> + At length all these preparations were completed, and it only remained for + Edith to wait for the proper time to start. + </p> + <p> + The hours passed on. + </p> + <p> + Midnight came, but even at that hour Edith thought that it was too early. + Leon probably kept late hours, and might be wandering about. She + determined to wait longer. + </p> + <p> + The moon was still shining. There were only a few scattered clouds in that + clear sky. + </p> + <p> + Could she find her way to the wall? She felt confident of that. She + intended to go down the avenue, keeping close to the trees, so as to fly + to their shelter in case of pursuit. When she reached the neighborhood of + the porter's lodge, she would go through the trees to the wall, trusting + to fortune to find her way for that short distance. + </p> + <p> + Such were the hopes and plans, made long before, which now occupied her + thoughts as she waited. + </p> + <p> + At last two o'clock came. It seemed now that it would be unwise to wait + any longer, since the time that was left between this and daylight was + barely sufficient to allow for contingencies. Without any farther delay, + therefore, she prepared to depart. + </p> + <p> + It was with a painful feeling of suspense and agitation that she set forth + upon this attempt at flight, which she knew must be a final one. Over her + left arm she threw the rope-ladder, while in her left hand she held that + ancestral dagger which had already done her such good service in her + dealings with Leon. Her right hand was thus free to grope in the dark for + her way, to open bolts, or to seize the dagger from her other hand + whenever the need for it might arise. For this last dread necessity she + had thoroughly prepared herself. By the desperation of her position, and + by the dark menaces of Leon, she had been nerved to a courage beyond even + that elevated standard which her high spirit ordinarily reached, and she + had resolved that if any one interposed between herself and that liberty + for which she longed, to use that dagger, and to strike without scruple. + </p> + <p> + On leaving her room she stood for a moment in the outer hall and listened. + All was still. She glided noiselessly along, and reached the stairway. + Once more she stood and listened before descending. There was silence yet. + She now descended the stairs as noiselessly as before, and reached the + lower hall, where she walked quickly toward the east end, and came to the + narrow stairway that led down to the door. Here once more she paused. A + fearful thought came to her as she looked down. What if some one should be + waiting there in the dark! What if Leon should be there! In spite of + herself a shudder passed through her at that thought. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard a sound—a sound which roused + her once more to action, and inspired new fears. It was the sound of a + footfall—far away, indeed, inside the house, but still a footfall—a + heavy tread, as of some one in pursuit, and its sound was loud and + menacing to her excited senses. There was only one to whom she could + attribute it—Leon! + </p> + <p> + He had heard her, then! + </p> + <p> + She was pursued! + </p> + <p> + Like lightning this thought came to her, and brought terror with it. She + could delay no longer. Down the narrow stairway she hurried through the + darkness, and reached the door. In her panic she forgot her usual caution. + With a jerk she drew the bolt back, and a harsh grating sound arose. She + flung open the door, which also creaked on its unused hinges. Then leaping + out, she hastily banged the door after her, and ran straight on. + </p> + <p> + In front of Dalton Hall there was a wide lawn and a pond. Beyond this + arose the trees of the park. Toward the shelter of these shadowy trees + Edith hurried, with the dread sense in her soul that she was being pursued + by a remorseless enemy. This thought lent additional speed to her + footsteps as she flew over the intervening space. The moon was shining + brightly, and she knew that she could easily be seen by any watcher; but + she sought only the more to reach the trees, and thus escape observation. + The time seemed long indeed to her in those moments of dread suspense; but + the space was at last traversed, the trees were reached, and plunging into + the midst of them, she ran along, occasionally stumbling, until at length, + partly from exhaustion and partly from a desire to see where her enemy + might be, so as to elude him better, she stopped. + </p> + <p> + Her course had been a circuitous one, but she had kept along the edge of + the wood, so that now, as she stopped, she found herself under the shadow + of the trees, and immediately opposite the portico of Dalton Hall, between + which and herself lay the pond. Here she stood, and looked over the + intervening space. + </p> + <p> + As she looked, she at first saw no appearance of any human being, and she + began to think that her fears all along had been unfounded; but in a + little while, as her eyes wandered over the front of the Hall, she saw + something which at once renewed all her excitement, and showed her that + her fears were true. + </p> + <p> + Upon the portico stood a figure, the general outlines of which were now + visible to her, as she looked carefully, and seemed to be the figure of + Leon. She could recognize the gray dress which he usually wore, and also + understood why she had not noticed him before, for the color of his + clothes had made him but faintly visible against the gray stone mass of + the background. He was now standing there with his face turned in her + direction. + </p> + <p> + “He has heard me,” she thought. “He has seen me. Instead of chasing me at + once, he has stopped to listen, so as to judge of my course. He knows that + I am here now in this spot, and is still listening to find out if I go any + further.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments her attention was attracted by a dark object lying on the + portico near Leon. + </p> + <p> + It was the dog! + </p> + <p> + She knew it well. Her heart sank within her. + </p> + <p> + “He is going to track me with the dog!” she thought. + </p> + <p> + What could she do? + </p> + <p> + Nothing. Flight was now worse than useless. All seemed lost, and there was + nothing now left to her in that moment of despair but the resolve to + resist to the end. + </p> + <p> + After a short time, which to Edith seemed prolonged to a terrible degree, + the figure came down the steps, followed by the dog. + </p> + <p> + Edith watched. + </p> + <p> + He walked on; he rounded the end of the pond; he came nearer! + </p> + <p> + She could now recognize his face as the moon shone down. + </p> + <p> + It was Leon. There was no longer the slightest doubt of that. He was + coming toward her, and the huge dog followed. + </p> + <p> + Edith involuntarily shrank back among the trees, and grasping her dagger + with desperate resolve, awaited the approach of her enemy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. — THE EMPTY ROOMS. + </h2> + <p> + On the following morning Mrs. Dunbar waited a long time for Edith's + appearance. But she did not make her appearance, and the time passed, + until it at length grew so late that she determined to see what was the + matter. Full of fear lest some new illness had been the result of the new + excitement to which she had been subjected, Mrs. Dunbar passed cautiously + through Edith's sitting-room, and knocked at her bedroom door. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + She knocked again and again, and still receiving no answer, she opened the + door and looked in. + </p> + <p> + To her amazement the room was empty. What was more surprising was the fact + that the bed did not appear to have been slept in. There was no disorder + visible in the room. Every thing was in its usual place, but Edith was not + there, and in that one glance which Mrs. Dunbar gave she took in the whole + truth. + </p> + <p> + Edith had fled! + </p> + <p> + She knew also that she must have fled during the night; that the event + against which such precautions had been taken had occurred at last, and + that she was responsible. Over that sorrowful anxious face there came now + a deeper sorrow and a graver anxiety at that discovery, and sitting down + upon a chair, she tried to conjecture Edith's possible course, and + wondered how she could get over the wall and out of the grounds. + </p> + <p> + At length she left this room, and going down stairs, called Hugo. + </p> + <p> + “Hugo,” said she, “has the captain come down?” + </p> + <p> + “I habn't seen him, ma'am,” said Hugo, respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “He always rises early,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “I wonder what's the matter. He + certainly must be up.” + </p> + <p> + Turning away, she ascended the stairs, and went to the room which was + occupied by Leon. The door was open. She entered. The room looked as + though it had just been left by its occupant. The bed bore signs of having + been occupied. The valise was lying there open. Upon the toilet-table was + a pocket-book, and hanging from the screw of the looking-glass was his + watch. His riding whip and gloves and top-boots were lying in different + places. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Dunbar saw all this, she concluded at first that he had gone out + for a walk, and would soon be back; but the lateness of the hour made that + idea seem absurd, and showed her that there must be some other cause. The + flight of Edith thereupon occurred to her, and was very naturally + associated in her mind with the departure of Leon. Had he been watching? + Had he detected her flight, and gone in pursuit? It seemed so. If so, he + was doubtless yet in pursuit of the fugitive, who must have fled fast and + far to delay him so long. + </p> + <p> + Then another thought came—the idea of violence. Perhaps he had + caught the fugitive, and in his rage and vindictive fury had harmed her. + That he was fierce enough for any atrocity she well knew; and the thought + that he had killed her, and had fled, came swift as lightning to her mind. + </p> + <p> + The idea was terrible. She could not endure it. She left the room and + hurried down stairs again. + </p> + <p> + “Hugo,” said she, “go down and ask the porter if he has seen the captain + or Miss Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton!” exclaimed Hugo. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” repeated Hugo, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + He said no more, but hurried down to the gates, while Mrs. Dunbar, who + felt restless and ill at ease, walked up the stairs, and feeling fatigued, + stopped on the landing, and leaned against the window there, looking out + upon the ground in the rear of the Hall. + </p> + <p> + Standing here, her eyes were attracted by a sight which made her start. It + was the Newfoundland dog. He was standing at some distance from the house, + looking straight ahead at vacancy, in a rigid attitude. The sight of this + animal, who was always the inseparable companion of his master, standing + there in so peculiar a fashion by himself, excited Mrs. Dunbar; and + forgetful of her weariness, she descended the stairs again, and quitting + the Hall, approached the spot where the dog was standing. + </p> + <p> + As she approached, the dog looked at her and wagged his tail. She called + him. He went on wagging his tail, but did not move from the spot. She went + up to him and stroked him, and looked all around, hoping to see some signs + of his master. She looked in the direction in which the dog had been + staring when she first noticed him. The stables seemed to be the place. + Toward these she walked, and tried to induce the dog to follow, but he + would not. She then walked over to the stables, and looked through them, + without seeing any trace of the object of her search. Upon this she + returned to the house. + </p> + <p> + On coming back she found Hugo. He had been to the gates, he said; but the + porter had seen nothing whatever either of the captain or Miss Dalton. + </p> + <p> + This intelligence deepened the anxious expression on Mrs. Dunbar's face. + </p> + <p> + “His dog is here,” said she, in a tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “His dog!” said Hugo. “Oh yes; he's ben out dar all de mornin'. Dunno what + de matta wid dat ar animal at all. Stands dar like a gravy statoo.” + </p> + <p> + For the rest of that day Mrs. Dunbar was restless and distressed. She + wandered aimlessly about the house. She sent Hugo off to scour the grounds + to see if he could find any trace of either of the fugitives. Every moment + she would look out from any window or door that happened to be nearest, to + see if either of them was returning. But the day passed by, and Hugo came + back from his long search, but of neither of the fugitives was a single + trace found. + </p> + <p> + What affected Mrs. Dunbar as much as any thing was the behavior of the + dog. Through all that day he remained in the same place, sometimes + standing, sometimes lying down, but never going away more than a few feet. + That the dog had some meaning in this singular behavior, and that this + meaning had reference to the flight of one or the other of the late + inmates of the house, was very evident to her. No persuasion, or coaxing, + or even threatening could draw the dog away; and even when Hugo fired a + gun off close to his lead, he quivered in every nerve, but only moved back + a foot or two. Food and drink were brought to him, of which he partook + with a most eager appetite, but no temptation could draw him any distance + from his post. That night was a sleepless one for Mrs. Dunbar; and it was + with a feeling of great relief that she heard the noise of a carriage + early on the following day, and knew that Wiggins had returned. + </p> + <p> + She hurried down at once, and met him in the great hall. In a few words + she told him all. + </p> + <p> + For such intelligence as this Wiggins was evidently unprepared. He + staggered back and leaned against the wall, staring at Mrs. Dunbar with a + terrible look. + </p> + <p> + “What! Gone!” he said, slowly. “Edith!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and Leon.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith gone!” gasped Wiggins once more. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear nothing in the village?” + </p> + <p> + “I drove through without stopping. Did you send to the village?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think that they could have got out of the grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “They! There's no trouble about Leon?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid—for him,” said Mrs. Dunbar, in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + “For him!” exclaimed Wiggins. “What can happen to him? For her, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “They must have gone off together.” + </p> + <p> + “Together! Do you think Edith would go with <i>him</i>? No; she has fled + in her madness and ignorance, turning her back on happiness and love, and + he has pursued her. O Heavens!” he continued, with a groan, “to think that + it should end in this! And cursed be that scoundrel—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Mrs. Dunbar. “He is not a scoundrel. He would not harm her. + You don't know Leon. He has not left the place; his dog is here.” + </p> + <p> + “His dog!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar explained. + </p> + <p> + Upon this Wiggins went through the hall to the rear, and there, in the + same place as where Mrs. Dunbar last saw him, was the dog. He was lying + down now. He wagged his tail in friendly recognition as they came up. + Wiggins patted him and stroked him and tried to coax him away. The result + was precisely the same as it had been before. The dog received all + advances in the most friendly manner possible. He wagged his tail, rolled + over on his back, licked their hands, sat up on his hind-quarters, and did + every thing which dogs usually do when petted or played with, but nothing + would induce him to leave the place. He did not appear to be in any + trouble. He seemed simply to have made up his mind to stay there, and this + resolution he maintained most obstinately. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins could make nothing of it; but the sight of the dog renewed the + terrors of Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” said she—“I'm afraid that something's happened to + Leon.” + </p> + <p> + “To Leon!” exclaimed Wiggins, impatiently; “what could happen to him! I + told him to quit this place, and he has probably concluded to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think of his flight at the same time with Edith?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to think of it. I only know this, that if he has harmed + one hair of her head, I—I'll—kill him! My own injuries I will + forgive, but wrongs done to her I will avenge!” + </p> + <p> + At this Mrs. Dunbar shrank away, and looked at Wiggins in fear. + </p> + <p> + “But it may be all the other way,” said she, in a tremulous voice. “Edith + was terrible in her fury. She was no timid, faltering girl; she was + resolute and vindictive. If he has followed her, or laid hands on her, she + may have—” She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “May have what?” asked Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + “She may have done him some harm.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>She</i> may have done <i>him</i> some harm!” repeated Wiggins, with a + sneer. “What! and when he had his big dog to protect him? Pooh!” + </p> + <p> + And with a scornful laugh he turned away. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar followed him. + </p> + <p> + “She was so terrible in her despair,” said she, as she followed him; “she + looked like a fury—beautiful, yet implacable.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” cried Wiggins. “Stop all that nonsense, or you'll drive me mad. + Are you crazy? When I am almost broken-hearted in my anxiety about her, + what do you mean by turning against that wronged and injured girl, who I + now see has been driven to despair by my own cursed mistakes, and + pretending that she is the aggressor, and your scoundrel Leon the victim?” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this Wiggins was interrupted by the approach of Hugo. + </p> + <p> + “A genl'man, Sah, wants to see you, Sah,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” repeated Wiggins. “Who is he? How did he come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno, Sah, nuffin 'bout dat, Sah.” + </p> + <p> + “It's about Edith!” exclaimed Wiggins; and he hurried into the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE VICAR OF DALTON. + </h2> + <p> + Wiggins entered the drawing-room, and found his visitor there. He was a + slight man, with light hair, watery gray eyes, and very mild demeanor. The + timidity of the man seemed very marked; there was an apologetic air about + him; and his very footfall as he advanced to greet Wiggins seemed to + deprecate some anticipated rough treatment. He spoke a few words, and at + Wiggins's request to be seated he sat down, while his agitation increased; + and he had that hesitating, half-abstracted manner which marks the man who + is on the point of giving unpleasant information, about the effect of + which he is doubtful. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins, on his part, did not seem to notice this. He sat down, and looked + with earnest inquiry at his visitor. He seemed to know what was the object + of this visit, and yet to dread to ask it. + </p> + <p> + The visitor had given his name as the Rev. Mr. Munn, and Wiggins + recognized that name as belonging to the parish vicar. That name excited + strange emotions within him, for it was the same name that had appeared in + the papers in connection with Edith's marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Wiggins at last, in some impatience. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Munn cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “I have come here,” he began, “to tell you very distressing news.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I refer to—a—a—Mrs. Dudleigh,” said Mr. Munn. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Wiggins, in a scarcely audible voice. + </p> + <p> + “She is at the village inn.” + </p> + <p> + “At the village inn!” repeated Wiggins, in evident agitation, drawing a + long breath. + </p> + <p> + “She is alive, then?” he added, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Mr. Munn; “she came there early yesterday morning.” And + then he went on to tell his story, the substance of which was as follows: + </p> + <p> + On the previous morning about dawn the people at the Dalton Inn were + aroused by a hurried knock. On going to the door they found Mrs. Dudleigh. + The moment that the door was opened she sprang in and fell exhausted to + the floor. So great was her weakness that she could not rise again, and + had to be carried up to one of the bedrooms. She was so faint that she + could scarcely speak; and in a feeble voice she implored them to put her + to bed, as it was a long time since she had had any rest, and was almost + dead with fatigue. + </p> + <p> + Her condition was most pitiable. Her clothes were all torn to shreds, and + covered with mud and dust; her hands were torn and bleeding; her shoes had + been worn into rags; and she looked as though she had been wandering for + hours through woods and swamps, and over rocks and sand. To all their + inquiries she answered nothing, but only implored them to put her to bed + and let her rest; above all, she prayed most piteously that they would + tell no one that she was there. This they promised to do; and, indeed, it + would have been difficult for them to have informed about her, since none + at the inn had ever seen her before, or had the remotest idea who she + could be. + </p> + <p> + Full of pity and sympathy, they put her to bed, and the landlady watched + over her most assiduously. All the morning she slept profoundly; but at + about noon she waked with a scream, like one who has been roused from some + fearful dream. + </p> + <p> + After that she grew steadily worse. Fever set in, and became more and more + violent every moment. In their anxiety to do what she had requested, and + keep her secret, they did not send immediately for a doctor. But her + condition soon became such that further delay was out of the question, so + they sent for the village physician. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived she was much worse. She was in a high fever, and already + delirious. He pronounced her situation to be dangerous in the extreme, + urged upon them the greatest care, and advised them to lose no time in + letting her friends know about her condition. Here was a dilemma for these + worthy people. They did not know who her friends were, and therefore could + not send for them, while it became impossible to keep her presence at the + inn a secret Not knowing what else to do, they concluded to send for the + vicar. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Munn came he found them in great distress. He soon learned the + facts of the case, and at once decided that it should be made known to + Captain Dudleigh or to Wiggins. For though he did not know Edith's face, + still, from the disconnected words that had dropped from her during her + delirium, reported to him by the inn people, he thought it probable that + she was the very lady whom he had married under such mysterious + circumstances. So he soothed the fears of the landlady as well as he + could, and then left. It was late at night when he went from the inn, and + he had waited till the morning before going to Dalton Hall. He had some + difficulty in getting in at the gate, but when the porter learned the + object of his visit he at once opened to him. From the porter he learned + of the disappearance of Captain Dudleigh also. Nothing was then left but + to see Wiggins. Accordingly he had come to the Hall at once, so as to tell + his message with the shortest possible delay. + </p> + <p> + To this recital Wiggins listened with gravity. He made no gesture, and he + spoke no word, but sat with folded arms, looking upon the floor. When Mr. + Munn had ended, he, after a long silence, turned toward him and said, in a + severe tone, + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir, now I hope you see something of the evil of that course which + you chose to pursue.” + </p> + <p> + “Evil? course?” stammered Mr. Munn. “I don't understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think you understand me,” said Wiggins, gloomily. “Has not your + conscience already suggested to you the probable cause of this strange + course of her whom you call Mrs. Dudleigh?” + </p> + <p> + “My conscience!” gasped Mr. Munn; “what has my conscience to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “How long is it since that wretched mockery at which you officiated?” + asked Wiggins, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I really—I think—a few months only.” + </p> + <p> + “A few months,” repeated Wiggins. “Well, it has come to this. That is the + immediate cause of her flight, and of her present suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—married them,” stammered Mr. Munn; “but what of that? Is + her unhappiness my fault? How can I help it? Am I responsible for the + future condition of those couples whom I marry? Surely this is a strange + thing to say.” + </p> + <p> + “You well know,” said Wiggins, “what sort of a marriage this was. It was + no common one. It was done in secret. Why did you steal into these grounds + like a thief, and do this infamous thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why,” faltered the unhappy vicar, growing more terrified and + conscience-stricken every minute—“Captain Dudleigh asked me. I + cannot refuse to marry people.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir, you can not when they come to you fairly; you can not, I well + know, when the conditions of the law are satisfied. But was that so here? + Did you not steal into these grounds? Did you not come by night, in + secret, conscious that you were doing wrong, and did you not have to steal + out in the same way? And your only excuse is that Captain Dudleigh asked + you!” + </p> + <p> + “He—he—showed very strong reasons why I should do so,” said + Mr. Munn, who by this time was fearfully agitated—“very strong + reasons, I do assure you, Sir, and all my humanity was—a—aroused.” + </p> + <p> + “Your humanity?” sneered Wiggins. “Where was your humanity for her?” + </p> + <p> + “For her!” exclaimed the vicar. “Why, she wanted it. She loved him.” + </p> + <p> + “Loved him! Pooh! She hated him worse than the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what did she marry him for?” cried Mr. Munn, at his wits' end. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Wiggins; “you went out of your way to do a deed the + consequences of which can not yet be seen. I can understand, Sir, how + Captain Dudleigh could have planned this thing; but how you, a calm, quiet + clergyman, in the full possession of your faculties, could have ever been + led to take part in it, is more than I can comprehend. I, Sir, was her + guardian, appointed as such by her father, my own intimate friend. Captain + Dudleigh was a villain. He sought out this thoughtless child merely for + her money. It was not her that he wanted, but her estate. I could easily + have saved her from this danger. He had no chance with me. But you come + forward—you, Sir—suddenly, without cause, without a word of + warning—you sneak here in the dark, you entice her to that lonely + place, and there you bind her body and soul to a scoundrel. Now, Sir, what + have you got to say for yourself!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Munn's teeth chattered, and his hands clutched one another + convulsively. “Captain Dudleigh told me that she was under restraint here + by—by you—and that she loved him, and that her only refuge was + to be married to him. I'm sure I didn't mean to do any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” said Wiggins, contemptuously. “The law gives a guardian a + certain right to parental restraint for the good of the ward. The slight + restraint to which she was subjected was accompanied by the deepest love + of those who cared for her here. I had hoped, Sir, that you might have + something different to tell me. I did not know that you had actually acted + so madly. I thought the story which I heard of that marriage was + incredible, and I have always spoken of it as a mockery. But from what I + now gather from you, it seems to have been a <i>bona fide</i> marriage, + true and valid.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm afraid it—it was,” said Mr. Munn. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins gave something that was almost like a groan. + </p> + <p> + “Friends,” he cried, passionately, rising from his chair—“friends + from the bottomless pit could not have more foully and fatally deceived + that poor, thoughtless, trustful child. But all their trickery and + treachery could never have succeeded had they not found a paltry tool in a + senseless creature like you—you, Sir—who could stand there and + go mumbling your marriage service, and never see the infernal jugglery + that was going on under your very eyes. Yes, you, Sir, who now come to + wring and break my heart by the awful tidings that you now tell me. Away! + Begone! I have already borne more than my share of anguish; but this, if + it goes on, will kill me or drive me mad!” + </p> + <p> + He turned away, with his head bent, with an unsteady step, and walked + toward the window, where he stood leaning against it heavily, and staring + out at vacancy. + </p> + <p> + As for Mr. Munn, he gave one glance of horror at Wiggins, and then, with a + swift, frightened step, he hurried from the Hall. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE HOUSE OF REFUGE + </h2> + <p> + The illness of Edith was of no light or common kind. Her old glow of + health had not yet returned. The state of affairs at Dalton Hall had + retarded any thing like a complete recovery, and when she started off on + her desperate flight, she was unfit for such a venture. Through that + terrible night she had undergone what might have laid low a strong man, + and the strength which had barely carried her to the door of the inn had + there left her utterly; and so fierce was the attack that was now made + upon her by this new illness that recovery seemed scarce possible. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was as non-committal as doctors usually are in a really + dangerous case. It was evident, however, from the first, that her + situation awakened in his mind the very deepest anxiety. He urged the + landlady to keep the house in the quietest possible condition, and to see + that she was never left without attendants. This the landlady promised to + do, and was unremitting in her attentions. + </p> + <p> + But all the care of the attendants seemed useless. Deeper and deeper Edith + descended into the abyss of suffering. Day succeeded to day, and found her + worse. Fortunately she was not conscious of what she had to endure; but in + that unconsciousness her mind wandered in delirium, and all the sorrows of + the past were lived over again. + </p> + <p> + They knew not, those good kind souls who waited and watched at her + bedside, what it was that thus rose before her, and distressed her in the + visions of her distempered brain, but they could see that these were the + result of deep grief and long sorrow, and therefore they pitied her more + than ever. As her mind thus wandered, she talked incessantly, often in + broken words, but often also in long connected sentences, and all these + were intermingled with moans and sighs. + </p> + <p> + “This is a heart-rending,” said the doctor once. “It is her mind, poor + lady, that has brought on this illness. In this case medicine is of no + use. You can do more than I can. You must watch over her, and keep her as + quiet as she can be kept.” + </p> + <p> + All of which the landlady promised more fervently than ever, and kept her + promise too. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all this care, the fever and the delirium grew worse. The + events of her Dalton life rose before her to the exclusion of all other + memories, and filled all her thoughts. In her fancies she again lived that + life of mingled anxiety and fear, and chafed and raged and trembled by + turns at the restraint which she felt around her. Then she tried to + escape, but escape was impossible. Then she seemed to speak with some one + who promised deliverance. Eagerly and earnestly she implored this one to + assist her, and mentioned plans of escape. + </p> + <p> + Most of all, however, her thoughts turned to that scene in the Dalton + vaults. The dead seemed all around. Amidst the darkness she saw the ghost + of her ancestors. They frowned menacingly upon her, as on one who was + bringing dishonor upon a noble name. They pointed at her scornfully with + their wan fingers. Deep moans showed the horror of her soul, but amidst + these moans she protested that she was innocent. + </p> + <p> + Then her flight from the Hall came up before her. She seemed to be + wandering through woods and thickets and swamps, over rocks and fallen + trees. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I never get out?” she murmured. “Shall I never get to the wall? I + shall perish in this forest. I am sinking in this mire.” + </p> + <p> + Then she saw some enemy. “It is he!” she murmured, in low thrilling tones. + “He is coming! I will never go back—no, never! I will die first! I + have my dagger—I will kill him! He shall never take me there—never, + never, never! I will kill him—I will kill him!” + </p> + <p> + After which came a low groan, followed by a long silence. + </p> + <p> + So she went on in her agony, but her delirious words carried no connected + meaning to her attendants. They could only look at one another + inquiringly, and shake their heads. “She has been unhappy in her married + life, poor dear,” said the landlady once, with a sigh; and this seemed to + be the general impression, and the only one which they gathered from her + words. + </p> + <p> + Thus a fortnight passed away. + </p> + <p> + At length the lowest stage of the disease was reached. It was the + turning-point, and beyond that lay either death or recovery. All night + long the landlady watched beside the bed of the poor sufferer, who now lay + in a deep sleep, scarce breathing, while the doctor, who came in at + midnight, remained till morning. + </p> + <p> + Morning came at length, and Edith awaked. The delirium had passed. She + looked around inquiringly, but could recall nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie dear,” she said, feebly, “where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't no auntie, dear,” said the landlady, gently. “You are at + Dalton Inn But don't speak, dearie—you are too weak.” + </p> + <p> + “Dalton Inn,” repeated Edith, in a faint voice. She looked puzzled, for + she was as yet too confused to remember. Gradually however, memory awaked, + and though the recollection of her illness was a blank, yet the awful life + that she had lived, and her flight from that life, with all its + accompaniments, came gradually back. + </p> + <p> + She looked at the landlady with a face of agony. + </p> + <p> + “Promise,” said she, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Promise what, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “Promise—that—you will not—send me away.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you! send you away? Not me.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise,” said Edith, in feverish impatience, “that you will not let them + take me—till I want to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Never; no one shall touch a hair of your head, dearie—till you wish + it.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of the landlady gave Edith even more confidence than her words. + “God bless you!” she sighed, and turned her head away. + </p> + <p> + A week passed, and Edith continued to get better every day. Although her + remembrances were bitter and her thoughts most distressing, yet there was + something in her present situation which was, on the whole, conducive to + health. For the first time in many months she felt herself free from that + irksome and galling control which had been so maddening to her proud + nature. Her life in Dalton Hall had been one long struggle, in which her + spirit had chafed incessantly at the barriers around it, and had well-nigh + worn itself out in maintaining its unconquerable attitude. Now all this + was over. She trusted this honest and tender-hearted landlady. It was the + first frank and open face which she had seen since she left school. She + knew that here at last she would have rest, at least until her recovery. + What she might do then was another question, but the answer to this she + chose to put off. + </p> + <p> + But all this time, while Edith had been lying prostrate and senseless at + the inn, a great and mighty excitement had arisen and spread throughout + the country, and all men were discussing one common subject—the + mysterious disappearance of Captain Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + He had become well known in the village, where he had resided for some + time. His rank, his reputed wealth, and his personal appearance had all + made him a man of mark. His marriage with Miss Dalton, who was known to be + his cousin, had been publicly announced, and had excited very general + surprise, chiefly because it was not known that Miss Dalton had returned. + The gentry had not called on the bride, however, partly on account of the + cloud that hung over the Dalton name, but more especially on account of + the air of mystery that hung about the marriage, and the impression that + was prevalent that calls were not expected. + </p> + <p> + The marriage had been largely commented upon, but had been generally + approved. It had taken place within the family, and the stain on the + Dalton name could thus be obliterated by merging it with that of Dudleigh. + It seemed, therefore, wise and appropriate and politic, and the reserve of + the married couple was generally considered as a mark of delicacy, good + taste, and graceful respect for public opinion. + </p> + <p> + Captain Dudleigh had at first been associated with a friend and relative + of his, Lieutenant Dudleigh, who had made himself quite popular in the + outside world. Neither of them, however, had gone into society. It was + understood that Lieutenant Dudleigh had come simply for the purpose of + being the captain's groomsman, and when, after the marriage, he + disappeared, nothing more was thought about him. + </p> + <p> + Occupying as he did this place in the attention of the county people, + Captain Dudleigh's disappearance created an excitement which can easily he + imagined. Who first started the report could not be found out, but no + sooner had it been started than it spread like wild-fire. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, in spite of the landlady's care, they had heard of Edith's + flight and illness, and naturally associated these two startling facts + together. The Dalton name was already covered with deep disgrace, and that + another tragedy should take place in connection with it was felt to be + very natural. Week after week passed on, and still there were no tidings + of the missing man. With the lapse of each week the excitement only + increased. Throughout the whole county this was the common topic of + conversation. It was matter for far more than the ordinary nine days' + wonder, for about this there was the fascination and the horror of an + impenetrable mystery. + </p> + <p> + For it was universally felt that in some way or other this mystery was + connected with Edith, and that its solution lay with her. It was + universally known that she had fled from Dalton Hall in a most suspicious + and unaccountable manner, and that Captain Dudleigh had disappeared on + that very night. It was natural, therefore, that every body should think + of her as being, to some extent at least, aware of the fate of Dudleigh, + and that she alone could account for it. + </p> + <p> + And so the excitement grew stronger and stronger every day. Gradually the + whole public came to know something about the circumstances of the + ill-fated marriage. There seemed to be some power at work which sent forth + fresh intelligence at various intervals to excite the public mind. It was + not Wiggins, for he kept himself in strict seclusion; and people who went + to stare at the gates of Dalton Park found nothing for their pains. It + could not have been the vicar, for his terror had reduced him to a state + of simple imbecility. There was some other cause, and that cause seemed + always at work. + </p> + <p> + From this mysterious cause, then, the public gained a version of the story + of that marriage, which was circulated every where. Miss Dalton, it was + said, had fallen in love with Captain Dudleigh, but her guardian, Wiggins, + had resisted her inclinations. She determined to get married in spite of + him, and Captain Dudleigh had a clergyman brought into the park, who + performed the ceremony secretly. After the marriage, however, it was said, + Captain Dudleigh treated his wife badly, and clamored for money to pay his + debts. His wife suspected that he had married her for this sole purpose. + They quarreled incessantly. Her health broke down through grief and + disappointment, and she was ill for a long time. After her recovery they + had several stormy interviews, in which she had threatened his life. It + was said that she always carried a dagger, with which she had sworn to + kill him. She had told him to his face that she would have “<i>his heart's + blood</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the story that circulated far and wide among all classes. None + had seen Edith personally except the doctor and those at the inn; and the + general impression about her was that she was a fierce, bold, impetuous + woman, with iron resolution and masculine temper. So, on the whole, public + opinion ran high against her, and profound sympathy was felt for the + injured husband. + </p> + <p> + All this was not confined to the county. The metropolitan papers had + mentioned it and discussed it, and the “<i>Continued Disappearance of + Captain Dudleigh</i>” was for a long time the standing heading of many + paragraphs. + </p> + <p> + But during all this time Edith remained at the inn in complete seclusion, + recovering slowly hut surely. In that seclusion she was utterly ignorant + of the excitement which she had caused, and, indeed, was not aware that + she was talked of at all. The papers were all kindly kept out of her + sight, and as she had never been accustomed to read them, she never + thought of asking for them. + </p> + <p> + But the public feeling had at last reached that point at which it + demanded, with resistless voice, an inquiry after the missing man. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE OLD WELL. + </h2> + <p> + Public feeling had grown so strong that it could no longer be disregarded, + and the authorities had to take up the case. It was enforced upon their + attention in many ways. The whole county urged it upon them, and journals + of note in different parts of the kingdom denounced their lethargy. Under + these circumstances they were compelled to take some action. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins had foreseen this, and to guard against this necessity he had + himself done all in his power to search after the missing man. He had put + the case in the hands of detectives, who had carried on an investigation + in all quarters, and in every possible way; but to no purpose, and with no + result. When at length the authorities came, he informed them of his + search and its failure, but assured them that he still believed that + Captain Dudleigh was alive. His theory was that, being heavily in debt, he + had taken this mode of eluding his creditors, and after causing it to be + believed that he was dead, he had quietly disappeared, and was now + enjoying himself somewhere on the Continent. No one else, however, shared + this opinion, and those who came to the search had no doubt that the + missing man had been murdered. So they instituted a regular search over + the whole estate. They began with the Hall, and went through every part of + it. Then they turned their attention to the grounds These were extensive, + and it seemed probable that somewhere among the groves or swamps the + remains might be found. They searched the chapel and the vaults. They + dragged the pond in front of the house. In all this Wiggins lent his + active assistance toward furthering the ends of justice, but at the same + time retained the firmest conviction that it was a trick of Dudleigh's, + and that he was now in foreign parts. + </p> + <p> + At length some of those who had been going the rounds of the wall returned + to the house, carrying something, the sight of which produced a profound + excitement. It was the hook and rope by which Edith, had sought to escape. + They found it hanging upon the wall, and every one recognized at a glance + the intention of this rope-ladder. But the thing that produced the + strongest excitement was something else. They had found it lying among the + grass at the foot of the ladder, having evidently been dropped by some + fugitive as an impediment, or thrown away as useless. It was a dagger, + which, from being so long exposed to the weather, was covered with rust, + but was still sharp and deadly. + </p> + <p> + This dagger seemed at once to confirm the general impression. It showed + that one of the fugitives of that night—the one who had escaped—had + been armed with a deadly weapon. Every one knew who the one was who had + escaped. Every one had already suspected her. Her wild flight, her + terrible agitation, her long illness—all had been known. What else + could cause such a state of things but the dread remembrance of some dark + crime? And now this dagger lay before them, the silent proof of the guilt + of her who had left it there. + </p> + <p> + Upon Wiggins the effect was crushing. His tongue was paralyzed. He kept + aloof after that, with despair on his face, and surveyed the proceedings + at a distance. Not so Mrs. Dunbar. All this time she had been feverish and + agitated, sometimes following the officers, at other times retiring. Upon + her the sight of that dagger acted like something that confirmed the worst + of her fears, and she burst forth into wild wails and lamentations. She + then urged the officers to renewed search, and finally told them all about + her own discovery of the empty rooms on that eventful morning, and the + singular behavior of the dog. + </p> + <p> + The mention of this created new excitement, and they at once asked where + the dog now was. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar did not know. The dog had disappeared most mysteriously, and + they had seen nothing of him for a long time. + </p> + <p> + They then asked to be taken to the place where the dog had stationed + himself. Mrs. Dunbar, still wild with excitement, led the way there. + Arriving at the spot, they examined it narrowly, but found nothing. It was + grass, which had not been touched for years. No body lay buried beneath + that old turf, as was plainly evident. They then went to the out-houses, + toward which Mrs. Dunbar told them the dog had kept his face, turned for + some time when she had first seen him; but here they found nothing + whatever. + </p> + <p> + It was now late, and they began to think of retiring, when suddenly one of + the party, who had been walking in the rear of the stables, gave a call + which drew them all in that direction. Upon reaching him they found him + standing at the edge of a pit, which looked like an old well. Over this + there was still the frame of what had been the well-house, and the well + itself was very deep. Kneeling, they all peered into the black depths + beneath them, but discovered nothing. One of them dropped a stone, and the + sound far below showed that the bottom lay at least sixty or eighty feet + from the surface. + </p> + <p> + “How long since this well has been used?” asked the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “Many years,” said Mrs. Dunbar. + </p> + <p> + “Did you examine it?” + </p> + <p> + “We never thought of doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we may as well try it. Can we have a rope?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Mrs. Dunbar, who at once went to the house, and soon + returned with Hugo, who carried a long stout rope. + </p> + <p> + Now it remained to explore the well, and to do this it would be necessary + for some one to descend. But no difficulty was found in this. By this time + all had been stimulated to the highest degree by the excitement of the + search, and there was something in the look of the well which made it seem + like the very place for the hurried disposal of a body. Here, then, they + were all convinced, if any where, they would be sure to come upon that + which they sought. Accordingly several volunteered to go down; but the + sheriff chose from among them the one who seemed fittest for that purpose, + and to the others was allotted the task of lowering him. Some further time + was taken up in making the necessary preparations for this; but at length + these were all completed, and the man who was to go down, after binding + one end of the rope about his chest and giving the other end to his + companions, prepared to descend. + </p> + <p> + The well was not very wide, and was lined around its sides with rough + stones. In the interstices between these he inserted his feet and hands, + and thus he let himself down, descending gradually. + </p> + <p> + The others knelt around the mouth of the well, holding the rope, and + letting it pass through their hands as their companion descended, peering + silently into the dark with eager eyes, and listening breathlessly to the + dull sounds made by the man below as he descended further and further. + </p> + <p> + At last all was still. From below there came no sound. He had reached the + bottom. More anxiously than ever they tried to pierce through the gloom, + but that gloom was impenetrable. Their companion delayed long. They began + to feel uneasy. + </p> + <p> + At length they heard sounds, and knew that he was ascending. With what + intelligence? What had he found in that awful abyss? This was the question + which was suggested to every heart, but a question which no one could + answer They lent their assistance, and pulled at the rope to help their + companion. Nearer and nearer he came, and still nearer, until at last he + was within reach. A few moments more and he emerged from the mouth of the + well, and falling forward, he lay for a moment motionless. + </p> + <p> + They all rushed to his assistance, but he shook them off and rose to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “Did you find any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the man, in a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried all, in breathless suspense. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see. Bring lights here, somebody. It's getting too dark for + this business.” + </p> + <p> + Hugo was at once dispatched to the Hall by Mrs. Dunbar for lights. There + was by this time every necessity for them. Much time had been taken up + with their preparations, and the shadows of evening had already gathered + about them. While Hugo was gone they all questioned their companion, but + he refused to say any thing. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me,” he replied. “Wait and see for yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + At this answer there was but one conviction in the minds of all, which was + that the object of their search had been found. But there was now no + further delay. Hugo soon returned with a lantern, and the man prepared to + descend once more. The lantern he hung about his neck, and taking another + piece of rope with him, the end of which was left with those above, he + again went down. This time he was gone longer than before. Those above + peering through the gloom could see a faint light far below, and the + shadowy outline of their companion. + </p> + <p> + At length he began to ascent, and in due time reached the top. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he; “you may pull on that line. I have fastened it so that + it'll hold.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, he flung himself exhausted on the grass, and unslung the + lantern and unbound the rope. + </p> + <p> + The others pulled. There was a heavy weight at the end of the rope. They + could all conjecture well what that dead-weight might be. But the fierce + curiosity that now animated them stimulated them to put forth all their + strength in a series of vigorous pulls. Nearer and nearer came that weight + to the top. At last it hung just beneath them. Half a dozen hands were + stretched out, and in an instant it was jerked out and lay upon the grass. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff seized the lantern and held it up. The scene was one of + horror. All around was the gloom of night, the shadowy outline of trees + and of the out-houses. A flickering light revealed a group of men + surrounding some object on the grass, upon which they gazed in silent awe. + </p> + <p> + It was a shapeless, sodden mass, but the human outline was preserved, and + the clothes were there, recognizable. It was a grisly, a hideous sight, + and it held them all spellbound. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly the silence was broken. A wild shriek burst forth from Mrs. + Dunbar, who the next instant fell forward upon the hideous object. Hugo + seized her and raised her up. She was senseless. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” cried the stern voice of Wiggins, who at that moment had + come to the place. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dunbar has fainted,” said the sheriff; and then he pointed silently + to the Thing that lay in the midst of the circle of spectators. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at it, and seemed turned to stone. Then a shudder passed + through him. Then he turned away. + </p> + <p> + As he walked he staggered like one who has received some terrible blow, + and staggering on in his way, he passed out of sight into the gloom. After + this Mrs. Dunbar was carried into the house by Hugo. + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a long time. + </p> + <p> + “The head is gone!” said the sheriff at length, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said another; “it's been long in the water.” + </p> + <p> + “Water couldn't do it,” said the sheriff; “it was gone before it went into + the water.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that for?” + </p> + <p> + “To prevent identification,” said the sheriff, in a significant tone. + </p> + <p> + The remains were in due time conveyed to an appropriate place, together + with the rope and the dagger. On the following day a search was made for + the missing head. The well was pumped dry, a task in which there was + little difficulty, as there was little more than two feet of water in it, + but nothing of the kind was found. Then they dragged the pond, but without + result. The search was also continued elsewhere, but it was equally + unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + It was then concluded that the murderer had removed the head of his victim + to prevent identification, and had buried it somewhere, but that the + traces of burial had been obliterated by the lapse of time. The only + wonder was that the clothes should have been allowed to remain by one who + had been so much on his guard as to decapitate his victim. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CORONER'S INQUEST. + </h2> + <p> + The remains were deposited in a proper place, and a coroner's inquest was + held at once, at which the usual examination of witnesses was conducted. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins was examined first. He showed great constraint. He had not much to + say, however, about the disappearance of Captain Dudleigh, for he had been + absent at that time, and he could only state what took place after his + return. But in the course of these inquiries much was extorted from him + relative to Edith's position at Dalton Hall, her marriage, and the terms + on which she had been living with her husband. His answers were given with + extreme hesitation and marked reluctance, and it was only by the utmost + persistence that they were wrung from him. + </p> + <p> + The porter was examined, and in the course of the inquiry that scene at + the gates when Edith tried to escape was revealed. + </p> + <p> + Hugo was examined. It was found out that he had overheard the conversation + between Edith and Captain Dudleigh at their last interview. Hugo's answers + were given with as much reluctance as those of Wiggins, but he was not + able to evade the questions, and all that he knew was drawn from him. But + Hugo's remembrance of words was not very accurate, and he could not give + any detailed report of the conversation which he had overheard. Several + things, however, had been impressed upon his memory. One was the occasion + when Edith drew a dagger upon Captain Dudleigh, and left the room with it + in her hand; another was when, in her last interview with him, she menaced + his life, and threatened to have his “<i>heart's blood</i>.” So it was + that Hugo had understood Edith's words. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar was examined, and gave her testimony with less hesitation. She + was deathly pale, and weak and miserable. She spoke with difficulty, but + was eager to bear witness to the noble character of Captain Dudleigh. She + certainly showed nothing like hate toward Edith, but at the same time + showed no hesitation to tell all about her. She told about Captain + Dudleigh's first visits, and about the visits of his friend, who had + assumed his name, or had the same name. She told how Edith had been + warned, and how she scorned the warning. From her was elicited the story + of Edith's return after her marriage, her illness, recovery, and desperate + moods, in which she seemed transformed, as Mrs. Dunbar expressed it, to a + “fury.” The account of her discovery of the flight of Edith and the + captain was given with much emotion, but with simple truth. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Munn was also examined about the marriage. He had not yet recovered + from the agitation into which he had been thrown during his interview with + Wiggins, but seemed in a state of chronic fright. + </p> + <p> + After these witnesses one other yet remained. It was one whose connection + with these events was the closest of all—one upon whom that jury + already looked as guilty of a terrible crime—as the one who had + inflicted with her own hand that death whose cause they were + investigating. + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt now in any mind. The remains had been identified by all + the witnesses. The head had been removed, and had not been found, but the + clothes were known to all. By these they judged the remains to be the body + of Captain Dudleigh. Wiggins alone hesitated—but it was only + hesitation; it was not denial. + </p> + <p> + When Edith was summoned before the coroner's jury, it was the very first + intelligence that she had received of an event in which she was so deeply + concerned. The landlady had heard all about the search and its results; + but true to her determination to spare Edith all trouble, she had not + allowed any news of these proceedings to be communicated to her. When the + official appeared with his abrupt summons to attend, the shock was + terrible, but there was nothing left except submission. A few brief + answers to her hurried and agitated questions put her in possession of the + chief facts of the case. On her way to the place she said not a word. The + landlady went with her to take care of her, but Edith did not take any + notice of her. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the room where the examination was going on, the scene that + presented itself was one which might well have appalled a stouter heart + than that of Edith, and which, coming as it did after the shock of this + sudden surprise, and in the train of all that she had already suffered, + gave to her a sharp pang of intolerable anguish, and filled her soul with + horror unspeakable. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “WITH A LOUD CRY, SHE HALF TURNED."} + </p> + <p> + The rope-ladder lay there with its hook, with which she had effected her + escape, and beside these was the dagger which more than once she had + interposed between herself and her fierce aggressor; but it was not these + that she saw; something else was there which fixed and enchained her gaze, + which held her with a terrible fascination. A sheet was thrown over it, + but the outlines of that which lay beneath indicated a human form, and the + information which Edith had already received made her well aware whose + that form was supposed to be. But she said nothing; she stood rigid, + horror-stricken, overwhelmed, and looked at it with staring eyes and white + lips. + </p> + <p> + The coroner made some remarks, consisting of the usual formulas, something + like an apology for the examination, a hint that it might possibly affect + herself, and a warning that she should be very careful not to say any + thing that might inculpate herself. + </p> + <p> + To all this Edith paid no attention. She did not appear to have heard it. + She stood, as the coroner spoke, in the same attitude as before, with her + eyes set in the same rigid stare. As the coroner ceased, he stepped + forward and drew away the sheet. + </p> + <p> + There it lay at last—unveiled, revealed to her eyes—the + abhorrent Thing, whose faint outline had chilled her very soul, its aspect + hideous, frightful, unendurable! As the sheet fell away, and all was + revealed before her, she could restrain herself no longer; the strain was + too great; with a loud cry, she half turned and tried to run. The next + instant the landlady caught her as she was falling senseless to the floor. + </p> + <p> + The examination of Mrs. Dudleigh was postponed. On the whole, however, it + was afterward considered unnecessary. Enough had been gathered from the + other witnesses to enable the jury to come to a conclusion. It was felt, + also, that Mrs. Dudleigh ought to have a chance; though they believed her + guilty, they felt sorry for her, and did not wish her to criminate herself + by any rash words. The result was that they brought in a verdict of murder + against Mrs. Leon Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. — A STRANGE CONFESSION + </h2> + <p> + The news of Edith's arrest spread like wild-fire, and the event became + soon the subject of universal conversation. Rumors of all sorts arose, as + is natural under such circumstances, most of which were adverse to the + accused. People remembered against the daughter the crimes of the father. + It was <i>bad blood</i>, they said, which she had inherited; it was an + evil race to which she belonged, and the murderous tendency was + hereditary. + </p> + <p> + The examination at the inquest had made known the general facts of her + story, out of which public gossip constructed another story to suit + itself. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dudleigh had been found troublesome and dangerous all along, so much + so that it became necessary to keep her within the grounds. When Captain + Dudleigh was paying attentions to her, she treated him with perfect + brutality. On one occasion she struck him with her whip, and tried to run + away. Captain Dudleigh had sent his friend, or relative, Lieutenant + Dudleigh, to bring about a reconciliation. This was so well managed that + the two resumed their former relations, and she even consented to make a + runaway match with him. This, however, was not out of love so much as to + spite her guardian. + </p> + <p> + After this marriage she took a violent dislike to her husband, and + pretended to be ill, or perhaps suffered real illness, the natural result + of her fierce, unbridled temper. Her husband found it impossible to live + with her. The few interviews which they had were very stormy. Over and + over again she threatened his life. At length she beguiled him into the + park on some unknown pretext, and there, with that dagger which she had so + often flourished in his face, she shed that very <i>“heart's blood”</i> + which she had threatened to take. The murder was evidently a preconcerted + act. She must have done it deliberately, for she had prepared the means of + secret escape. She deliberately tried to conceal her act, and after + removing his head, and burying it, she had thrown the body into the old + well. But <i>“murder will out,”</i> etc., etc.; and with this and other + similar maxims Edith's condemnation was settled by the public mind. + </p> + <p> + Thus Edith was in prison, held there under a terrible charge, for which + there was proof that was appalling in its character. The body found and + identified seemed to plead against her; circumstances inculpated her; + motives were assigned to her sufficiently strong to cause the act; her own + words and acts all tended to confirm her guilt. + </p> + <p> + After all, however, this last blow was not so crushing a one as some + others which she had received in the course of her life. The most terrible + moment perhaps had been that one when she was taken and confronted with + the horrible remains. After that shock had subsided she rallied somewhat; + and when her arrest took place she was not unprepared. + </p> + <p> + If the shock of the arrest had thus been less severe than might be + supposed, so also was she less affected by her imprisonment than another + person would have been in such a situation. The reason of this is evident. + She had endured so much that this seemed an inferior affliction. The + anguish which she had known could not be increased by this. At Dalton Hall + she had become habituated to imprisonment, and of a far more galling kind + to her than this. She had been in the power of a tyrant, at his mercy, and + shut out from all means of communicating with the world at large. Her soul + had perpetually fretted and chafed against the barriers by which she was + confined, and the struggle within herself was incessant. Afterward there + had been the worse infliction of that mock marriage, and the unspeakable + dread of a new tyrant who called himself her husband. No prison could + equal the horrors which she had known at Dalton Hall. Here in the jail her + situation was at least known. From Wiggins she was saved; from her false + husband rescued forever. She was now not in the power of a private tyrant, + exercising his usurped authority over her from his own desire, and with + his will as his only law; but she was in the hands of the nation, and + under the power of the national law. So, after all, she knew less grief in + that prison cell than in the more luxurious abode of Dalton Hall, less + sorrow, less despair. Her mood was a calm and almost apathetic one, for + the great griefs which she had already endured had made her almost + indifferent to anything that life might yet have to offer. + </p> + <p> + Two days after her arrest word was brought to Edith that a lady wished to + see her. Full of wonder who it could be, and in doubt whether it could be + Miss Plympton, or only Mrs. Dunbar, Edith eagerly directed that the + visitor should be admitted. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon a lady dressed in black entered the chamber. A heavy black veil + was over her face, which she raised as she entered, and stood before Edith + with downcast eyes. + </p> + <p> + There was something in that face which seemed strangely familiar to Edith, + and yet she found herself quite unable to think who the lady could be. She + thought over all the faces that she had known in her school days. She + thought over the faces at Dalton Hall. Suddenly, as the lady raised her + eyes, there was an additional revelation in them which at once told Edith + all. + </p> + <p> + She started back in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Dudleigh!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The lady bowed her head, and said, in a low voice, + </p> + <p> + “Fortescue is my real name.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “BUT EVEN NOW I WOULD BE WILLING TO DIE FOR HIM."} + </p> + <p> + A suspicion of this sort had once flashed across Edith's mind. It was + during the altercation at the Dalton chapel. Still, as this suspicion was + thus confirmed, her surprise was extreme, and she said not a word, but + looked steadily at her. And in the midst of other thoughts and feelings + she could not help seeing that great changes had come over Miss Fortescue, + as she called herself, in addition to those which were consequent upon her + resumption of feminine attire. She was pale and thin, and looked ten years + older than she used to look. Evidently she had undergone great suffering. + There were marks of deep grief on her face. Much Edith marveled to see + that one who had acted so basely was capable of suffering such grief. She + could not help being reminded of that expression which she had seen on + this same face when they were arranging that false marriage; but now that + deep remorse which then had appeared seemed stamped permanently there, + together with a profound dejection that was like despair. All this was not + without its effect on Edith. It disarmed her natural indignation, and even + excited pity. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said the visitor, in a voice that was quite different from + the one which she remembered—a voice that was evidently her natural + one, while that other must have been assumed—“Miss Dalton, I have + come to try to do something, if possible, toward making amends for—for + a frightful injury. I know well that amends can never be made; but at + least I can do a little. Will you listen to me for a few moments, not with + regard to me, but solely for your own sake?” + </p> + <p> + Edith said nothing, but bowed her head slightly. She did not yet know how + far this betrayer might be sincere, and wished to hear and judge for + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me, first of all, make a confession to you of my great sin?” + she continued, slowly and painfully. “You will understand better your own + present situation. I assure you it will be a help to you toward freeing + yourself. I don't ask you to believe—I only ask you to listen.” + </p> + <p> + Edith again bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all, then. I was an actress in London; my name was + Fortescue. I was a celebrity at Covent Garden. It was there that I first + met Captain Dudleigh. I need say no more about him than this: I loved him + passionately, with a frenzy and a devotion that you can not understand, + and my fate is this—that I love him yet. I know that he is a coward + and a villain and a traitor, but even now I would be willing to die for + him.” + </p> + <p> + The voice was different—how different!—and the tone and manner + still more so. The careless “Little Dudleigh” had changed into a being of + passion and ardor and fire. Edith tried to preserve an incredulous state + of mind, but in vain. She could not help feeling that there was no acting + here. This at least was real. This devoted love could not be feigned. + </p> + <p> + “He swore he loved me,” continued Miss Fortescue. “He asked me to be his + wife. We were married.” + </p> + <p> + “Married!” cried Edith, in a tone of profoundest agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Miss Fortescue, solemnly, “we were married. But listen. I + believed that the marriage was real. He told some story about his friends + being unwilling—about his father, who, he said, would disown him if + he found it out. He urged a private marriage, without any public + announcement. He knew a young clergyman, he said, who would do him that + favor. For my part I had not the slightest objection. I loved him too well + to care about a formal wedding. So we were married in his rooms, with a + friend of his for witness. + </p> + <p> + “He set up a modest little house, where we lived for about a year. At + first my life was one of perfect happiness, but gradually I saw a change + coming over him. He was terribly in debt, and was afraid of utter ruin. + From hints that dropped from him, I began to suspect that he meditated + some sort of treachery toward me. Then, for the first time, I was alarmed + at the privacy of our marriage. Still, I was afraid to say any thing to + him, for fear that it might hasten any treachery toward me which he might + meditate. I loved him as dearly as ever, but I found out that he was base + and unprincipled, and felt that he was capable of any thing. I had to + content myself with watching him, and at the same time tried to be as + cheerful as possible. + </p> + <p> + “At length he heard about you, and came to Dalton. His father sent him, he + said. I followed him here. At first he was angry, but I persuaded him to + take me as an assistant. He did not want to be known at the Hall, for he + wished to see first what could be done with Wiggins. He made me disguise + myself as a man, and so I called myself Lieutenant Dudleigh. He went to + Dalton Hall, and discovered that the porter was some old criminal who had + done his crime on the Dudleigh estates—poaching, I think, or murder, + or both. On seeing Wiggins, he was able to obtain some control over him—I + don't know what. He never would tell me. + </p> + <p> + “By this time I found out what I had all along suspected—that he + came here for your sake. He was terribly in debt. A dark abyss lay before + him. He began to feel me to be an incumbrance. He began to wish that he + was a free man, so that he might marry you. I saw all this with a grief + that I can not tell. + </p> + <p> + “We made several calls on you. I went as his mother, Mrs. Mowbray.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mowbray! You!” exclaimed Edith, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Did I act my part well?” said Miss Fortescue, mournfully. “It was an easy + enough part. I believe I succeeded in making myself utterly detestable. + Captain Dudleigh was bitterly vexed at my manner. He wanted me to gain + your confidence. That, however, I could not yet bring myself to do. His + own intercourse with you was even worse. Your attempt to escape was a + terrible blow to his hopes. Yet he dared not let you escape. That would + have destroyed his plans utterly. You would have gone to your friends—to + Miss Plympton—and you would have found out things about him which + would have made his projects with reference to you out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Plympton!” cried Edith. “How could I have gone to her? She is away.” + </p> + <p> + “That was one of my lies,” said Miss Fortescue. “Unfortunately, she is + really ill, but she is still in the country, at her school. I myself went + there to tell her about you only two days ago, but found that she had been + ill for some time, and could not see any one.” + </p> + <p> + Edith sighed heavily. For an instant hope had come, and then it had died + out. + </p> + <p> + “He made me go again to see you, but with what result you know. I was + fairly driven away at last. This made him terribly enraged against you and + against me, but I quieted him by reminding him that it was only his own + fault. It brought about a change in his plans, however, and forced him to + put me more prominently forward. Then it was that he devised that plan by + which I was to go and win your confidence. I can not speak of it; you know + it all. I wish merely to show you what the pressure was that he put on me. + </p> + <p> + “'Dear wife,' said he to me one day, in his most affectionate tone—'my + own Lucy, you know all about my affairs, and you know that I am utterly + ruined. If I can not do something to save myself, I see no other resource + but to blow my brains out. I will do it, I swear I will, if I can not get + out of these scrapes. My father will not help me. He has paid all my debts + twice, and won't do it again. Now I have a proposal to make. It's my only + hope. You can help me. If you love me, you will do so. Help me in this, + and then you will bind your husband to you by a tie that will be stronger + than life. If you will not do this simple thing, you will doom me to + death, for I swear I will kill myself, or at least, if not that, I will + leave you forever, and go to some place where I can escape my creditors.' + </p> + <p> + “This was the way that he forced his plan upon me. You know what it was. I + was to see you, and do—what was done. + </p> + <p> + “'You are my wife,' said he, earnestly. 'I can not marry her—I don't + want to—but I do want to get money. Let me have the control of the + Dalton estates long enough to get out of my scrapes. You can't be jealous + of her. She hates me. I hate her, and love you—yes, better than + life. When she finds out that I am married to her she will hate me still + more. The marriage is only a form, only a means of getting money, so that + I may live with my own true wife, my darling Lucy, in peace, and free from + this intolerable despair.' + </p> + <p> + “By such assurances as these—by dwelling incessantly upon the fact + that I was his wife, and that this proposed marriage to you was an empty + form—upon your hate for him, and the certainty of your still greater + hate, he gradually worked upon me. He appealed to my love for him, my pity + for his situation, and to every feeling that could move me in his favor. + Then it was that he told me frankly the name of the clergyman who had + married us, and the witness. The clergyman's name was Porter, and the + witness was a Captain Reeves. So, in spite of my abhorrence of the act, I + was led at last, out of my very love to him, and regard for his future, to + acquiesce in his plan. Above all, I was moved by one thing upon which he + laid great stress. + </p> + <p> + “'It will really be for her benefit,' he would say. 'She will not be + married at all. I shall take some of her money, certainly; but she is so + enormously rich that she will never feel it; besides, if I didn't get it, + Wiggins would. Better for her cousin to have it. It will be all in the + family. Above all, this will be the means, and the only means, of freeing + her from that imprisonment in which Wiggins keeps her. That is her chief + desire. She will gain it. After I pay my debts I will explain all to her; + and what is more, when I succeed to my own inheritance, as I must do in + time, I shall pay her every penny.' + </p> + <p> + “By such plausible reasoning as this he drove away my last objection, and + so, with out any further hesitation, I went about that task. + </p> + <p> + “But oh, how hard it was! Over and over again I felt like giving up. But + always he was ready to urge me on, until at last it was accomplished, and + ended as you remember.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fortescue paused here, and made no reply. Edith said not a word. Why + should she? What availed this woman's repentance now? + </p> + <p> + “I came here,” continued Miss Fortescue at length, “first of all to + explain this, but to tell you other things also. I must now tell you + something which makes your position more painful than I thought it would + be. I soon found out the full depth of Captain Dudleigh's villainy. While + I thought that you only were deceived, I found that I the one who was most + deceived. + </p> + <p> + “After that marriage in the chapel we went back to Dalton, and there he + abused me in the most frightful manner. He pretended to be enraged because + I rebuked him in the chapel. His rage was only a pretense. Then it all + came out. He told me plainly that my marriage with him was a mockery; that + the man Porter who had married was not a clergyman at all, but a creature + of his whom he had bribed to officiate; that Reeves was not a captain, and + that his testimony in any case would be useless. All this was crushing. It + was something that was so entirely in accordance with my own fears that I + had not a word to say. He railed at me like a madman, and informed me that + he had only tolerated me here at Dalton so as to use me as his tool. And + this was our last interview. He left me there, and I have never seen him + since. He said he was your husband, and was going to live at Dalton. I + could do nothing. I went, however, to the gates, got sight of Wiggins, and + for your sake I told him all. I thought it was better for you to remain + under the authority of Wiggins than to be in the power of such a villain + as Captain Dudleigh. I told Wiggins also that I still had a hope that my + marriage was valid. I went back at once to London, and tried to find out + clergymen named Porter. I have seen several, and written to many others + whose names I have seen on the church list, but none of them know any + thing about such a marriage as mine. I began, therefore, to fear that he + was right, and if so—I was not his wife.” + </p> + <p> + Silence followed now for some time. Miss Fortescue was waiting to see the + effect of her story, and Edith was meditating upon the facts with which + this strange revelation dealt. Although she had been so great a sufferer, + still she did not feel resentment now against this betrayer. For this one + was no longer the miserable, perfidious go-between, but rather an injured + wife led to do wrong by the pressure put upon her, and by her own love. + </p> + <p> + “Then that was not a mock marriage?” said she at last. + </p> + <p> + “By justice and right it was no marriage,” said Miss Fortescue; “but how + the law may regard it I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Sir Lionel been heard of yet?” asked Edith, after another pause. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel!” said Miss Fortescue, in surprise. “Oh, I had forgotten. Miss + Dalton, that, I grieve to say, was all a fiction. He was never out of the + country.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever speak a word of truth to me?” asked Edith, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fortescue was silent. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, it is of no consequence now,” said Edith. “Sir Lionel is + nothing to me; for he must look with horror on one whom he believes to be + the slayer of his son.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Dalton!” burst forth Miss Fortescue, “do not despair; he will be + found yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Found! He has been found. Did you not hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mean that. I do not believe that it was him. I believe that + he is alive. This is all a mistake. I will search for him. I do not + believe that this is him. I believe he is alive. Oh, Miss Dalton, if I + could only do this for you, I should be willing to die. But I will try; I + know how to get on his track; I know where to go; I must hear of him, if + he is alive. Try to have hope; do not despair.” + </p> + <p> + Edith shook her head mournfully. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fortescue tried still further to lessen Edith's despair, and assured + her that she had hopes herself of finding him before it was too late, but + her words produced no effect. + </p> + <p> + “I do not ask you to forgive me,” said Miss Fortescue; “that would be + almost insolence; but I entreat you to believe that I will devote myself + to you, and that you have one whose only purpose in life now is to save + you from this fearful fate. Thus far you have known me only as a speaker + of lies; but remember, I pray you, what my position was. I was playing a + part—as Mrs. Mowbray—as Lieutenant Dudleigh—as Barber + the lawyer—” + </p> + <p> + “Barber!” exclaimed Edith. “What! Barber too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Miss Fortescue, sadly; “all those parts were mine. It was easy + to play them before one so honest and so unsuspecting; but oh, Miss + Dalton, believe me, it is in playing a part only that I have deceived you. + Now, when I no longer play a part, but come to you in my own person, I + will be true. I will devote myself to the work of saving you from this + terrible position in which I have done so much to place you.” + </p> + <p> + Edith made no reply, and soon after Miss Fortescue departed, leaving her + to her own reflections. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. — A REVELATION. + </h2> + <p> + If any thing could have added to the misery of Edith and her general + despondency, it would have been the revelations of Miss Fortescue. It had + certainly been bad enough to recall the treachery of a false friend; but + the facts as just revealed went far beyond what she had imagined. They + revealed such a long course of persistent deceit, and showed that she had + been subject to such manifold, long-sustained, and comprehensive lying, + that she began to lose faith in human nature. Whom now could she believe? + Could she venture to put confidence in this confession of Miss Fortescue? + Was that her real name, and was this her real story, or was it all some + new piece of acting, contrived by this all-accomplished actor for the sake + of dragging her down to deeper abysses of woe? She felt herself to be + surrounded by remorseless enemies, all of whom were plotting against her, + and in whose hearts there was no possibility of pity or remorse. Wiggins, + the archenemy, was acting a part which was mysterious just now, but which + nevertheless, she felt sure, was aimed at her very life. Mrs. Dunbar, she + knew, was more open in the manifestation of her feelings, for she had + taken up the cause of the murdered man with a warmth and vindictive zeal + that showed Edith plainly what she might expect from her. Her only friend, + Miss Plympton, was still lost to her; and her illness seemed probable, + since, if it were not so, she would not keep aloof from her at such a + moment as this. Hopeless as she had been of late, she now found that there + were depths of despair below those in which she had thus far been—“in + the lowest deep, a lower deep.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE SAW HER HEAD FALL"} + </p> + <p> + Such were her thoughts and feelings through the remainder of that day and + through the following night. But little sleep came to her. The future + stood before her without one ray of light to shine through its appalling + gloom. On the next day her despair seemed even greater; her faculties + seemed benumbed, and a dull apathy began to settle down over her soul. + </p> + <p> + From this state of mind she was roused by the opening of the door and the + entrance of a visitor. Turning round, she saw Wiggins. + </p> + <p> + This was the first time that she had seen him since she left Dalton Hall, + and in spite of that stolid and apathetic indifference which had come to + her, she could not help being struck by the change which had come over + him. His face seemed whiter, his hair grayer, his form more bent; his + footsteps were feeble and uncertain; he leaned heavily upon his + walking-stick; and in the glance that he turned toward her there was + untold sympathy and compassion, together with a timid supplication that + was unlike any thing which she had seen in him before. + </p> + <p> + Edith neither said any thing nor did any thing. She looked at him with + dull indifference. She did not move. The thought came to her that this was + merely another move in that great game of treachery and fraud to which she + had been a victim; that here was the archtraitor, the instigator of all + the lesser movements, who was coming to her in order to carry out some + necessary part. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins sat down wearily upon one of the rude chairs of the scantily + furnished room, and after a brief silence, looking at her sadly, began. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said he, “how you misunderstand me, and how unwelcome I must be; + but I had to come, so as to assure you that I hope to find this man who is + missing. I—I hope to do so before the—the trial. I have been + searching all along, but without success—thus far. I wish to assure + you that I have found out a way by which you—will be saved. And if + you believe me, I trust that you will—try—to—cherish + more hope than you appear to be doing.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + Edith said nothing at all. She was silent partly out of apathy, and partly + from a determination to give him no satisfaction, for she felt that any + words of hers, no matter how simple, might be distorted and used against + her. + </p> + <p> + Wiggins looked at her with imploring earnestness, and seemed to wait for + her to say something. But finding her silent, he went on: + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me ask you one question? and forgive me for asking it; but + it is of some importance to—to me—and to you. It is this: Did—did + you see him at all—that night?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been warned,” replied Edith, in a dull, cold tone, “to say + nothing, and I intend to say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins sighed. + </p> + <p> + “To say nothing,” said he, “is not always wise. I once knew a man who was + charged with terrible crimes—crimes of which he was incapable. He + was innocent, utterly. Not only innocent, indeed, but he had fallen under + this suspicion, and had become the object of this charge, simply on + account of his active efforts to save a guilty friend from ruin. His + friend was the guilty one, and his friend was also his sister's husband; + and this man had gone to try and save his friend, when he himself was + arrested for that friend's crimes.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins did not look at Edith; his eyes were downcast. He spoke in a tone + that seemed more like a soliloquy than any thing else. It was a tone, + however, which, though low, was yet tremulous with ill-suppressed + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “He was accused,” continued Wiggins, “and if he had spoken and told what + he knew, he might have saved his life. But if he had done this he would + have had to become a witness, and stood up in court and say that which + would ruin his friend. And so he could not speak. His lips were sealed. To + speak would have been to inform against his friend. How could he do that? + It was impossible. Yet some may think—you may think—that this + man did wrong in allowing himself to be put in this false position. You + may say that he had more than himself to consider—he had his family, + his name, his—his wife, his child! + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Wiggins, after a long pause, “this is all true, and he did + consider them, all—all—all! He did not trifle with his family + name and honor, but it was rather on account of the pride which he took in + these that he kept his silence. He was conscious of his perfect innocence. + He could not think it possible that such charges could be carried out + against one like himself. He believed implicitly in the justice of the + courts of his country. He thought that in a fair trial the innocent could + not possibly be proclaimed guilty. More than all, he thought that his + proud name, his stainless character, and even his wealth and position, + would have shown the world that the charges were simply impossible. He + thought that all men would have seen that for him to have done such things + would involve insanity.” + </p> + <p> + As Wiggins said this his voice grew more earnest and animated. He looked + at Edith with his solemn eyes, and seemed as though he was pleading with + her the cause of his friend—as though he was trying to show her how + it had happened that the father had dishonored the name which the child + must bear—as though he was justifying to the daughter, Edith Dalton, + the acts of the father, Frederick Dalton. + </p> + <p> + “So he bore it all with perfect calmness,” continued Wiggins, “and had no + doubt that he would be acquitted, and thought that thus he would at least + be able, without much suffering, to save his friend from ruin most + terrific—from the condemnation of the courts and the fate of a + felon.” + </p> + <p> + Wiggins paused once more for some time. He was looking at Edith. He had + expected some remark, but she had made none. In fact, she had regarded all + this as a new trick of Wiggins—a transparent one too—the aim + of which was to win her confidence by thus pretending to vindicate her + father. He had already tried to work on her in that way, and had failed; + and on this occasion he met with the same failure. + </p> + <p> + “There is no occasion for you to be silent, I think,” said Wiggins, + turning from the subject to the situation of Edith. “You have no friend at + stake; you will endanger no one, and save yourself, by telling whether you + are innocent or not.” + </p> + <p> + These last words roused Edith. It was an allusion to her possible guilt. + She determined to bring the interview to a close. She was tired of this + man and his attempts to deceive her. It was painful to see through all + this hypocrisy and perfidy at the very moment when they were being used + against herself. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a stony gaze, and spoke in low, cold tones as she + addressed him. “This is all useless. I am on my guard. Why you come here I + do not know. Of course you wish to entrap me into saying something, so + that you may use my words against me at the trial. You ask me if I saw + this man on that night. You ask me if I am innocent. You well know that I + am innocent. You, and you only, know who saw him last on that night; for + as I believe in my own existence, so I believe, and affirm to your face, + that this Leon Dudleigh was murdered by you, and you only!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her fixedly as she said this, returning her stony gaze with a + mournful look—a pitying look, full of infinite sadness and + tenderness. He raised his hand deprecatingly, but said nothing until she + had uttered those last words. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” he said, in a low voice—“stay! I can not bear it.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from his seat and came close to her. He leaned upon his stick + heavily, and looked at her with eyes full of that same strange, + inexplicable tenderness and compassion. Her eyes seemed fascinated by his, + and in her mind there arose a strange bewilderment, an expectation of + something she knew not what. + </p> + <p> + “Edith,” said he, in a sweet and gentle voice, full of tender melancholy—“Edith, + it would be sin in me to let you any longer heap up matter for future + remorse; and even though I go against the bright hope of my life in saying + this now, yet I must. Edith—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looking at her, while she regarded him with awful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Edith!” he said again—“my—my—child!” + </p> + <p> + There were tears in his eyes now, and there was on his face a look of + unutterable love and unspeakable pity and forgiveness. He reached out his + hand and placed it tenderly upon her head. + </p> + <p> + “Edith,” he said again, “my child, you will never say these things again. + I—I do not deserve them. I—am your—your father, Edith!” + </p> + <p> + At these words a convulsive shudder passed through Edith. He felt her + frail form tremble, he saw her head fall, and heard a low sob that seemed + torn from her. + </p> + <p> + She needed no more words than these. In an instant she saw it all; and + though bewildered, she did not for a moment doubt his words. But her whole + being was overwhelmed by a sudden and a sharp agony of remorse; for she + had accustomed herself to hate this man, and the irrepressible tokens of a + father's love she had regarded as hypocrisy. She had never failed to heap + upon that reverend head the deepest scorn, contumely, and insult. But a + moment before she had hurled at him a terrible accusation. At him! At + whom? At the man whose mournful destiny it had been all along to suffer + for the sins of others; and she it was who had flung upon him an + additional burden of grief. + </p> + <p> + But with all her remorse there were other feelings—a shrinking sense + of terror, a recoil from this sudden discovery as from something + abhorrent. This her father! That father's face and form had been stamped + in her memory. For years, as she had lived in the hope of seeing him, she + had quickened her love for him and fed her hopes from his portrait. But + how different was this one! What a frightful change from the father that + lived in her memory! The one was a young man in the flush and pride of + life and strength—the other a woe-worn, grief-stricken sufferer, + with reverend head, bowed form, and trembling limbs. Besides, she had long + regarded him as dead; and to see this man was like looking on one who had + risen from the dead. + </p> + <p> + In an instant, however, all was plain, and together with the discovery + there came the pangs of remorse and terror and anguish. She could + understand all. He, the escaped convict, had come to England, and was + supposed to be dead. He had lived, under a false name, a life of constant + and vigilant terror. He kept his secret from all the world. Oh, if he had + only told her! Now the letter of Miss Plympton was all plain, and she + wondered how she had been so blind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she moaned, in a scarce audible voice, “why did you not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Edith darling! my child! my only love!” murmured Frederick Dalton, + bending low over her, and infolding her trembling frame in his own + trembling arms; “my sweet daughter, if you could only have known how I + yearned over you! But I delayed to tell you. It was the one sweet hope of + my life to redeem my name from its foul stain, and then declare myself. I + wanted you to get your father back as he had left you, without this + abhorrent crime laid to his charge. I did wrong not to trust you. It was a + bitter, bitter error. But I had so set my heart on it. It was all for your + sake, Edith—all, darling, for your sake!” + </p> + <p> + Edith could bear no more. Every one of these words was a fresh stab to her + remorseful heart—every tone showed to her the depth of love that lay + in that father's heart, and revealed to her the suffering that she must + have caused. It was too much; and with a deep groan she sank away from his + arms upon the floor. She clasped his knees—she did not dare to look + up. She wished only to be a suppliant. He himself had prophesied this. His + terrible warnings sounded even now in her ears. She had only one thought—to + humble herself in the dust before that injured father. + </p> + <p> + Dalton tried to raise her up. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” he cried, “my child! you must not—you will break my + heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” moaned Edith, “if it is not already broken, how can you ever forgive + me?—how can you call me your child?” + </p> + <p> + “My child! my child!” said Dalton. “It was for you that I lived. If it had + not been for the thought of you, I should have died long since. It was for + your sake that I came home. It is for you only that I live now. There is + nothing for me to forgive. Look up at me. Let me see your darling face. + Let me hear you say one word—only one word—the word that I + have hungered and thirsted to hear. Call me father.” + </p> + <p> + “Father! oh, father! dear father!” burst forth Edith, clinging to him with + convulsive energy, and weeping bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my darling!” said Dalton, “I was to blame. How could you have borne + what I expected you to bear, when I would not give you my confidence? Do + not let us speak of forgiveness. You loved your father all the time, and + you thought that I was his enemy and yours.” + </p> + <p> + Gradually Edith became calmer, and her calmness was increased by the + discovery that her father was painfully weak and exhausted. He had been + overwhelmed by the emotions which this interview had called forth. He now + sat gazing at her with speechless love, holding her hands in his, but his + breath came and went rapidly, and there was a feverish tremulousness in + his voice and a flush on his pale cheeks which alarmed her. She tried to + lessen his agitation by talking about her own prospects, but Dalton did + not wish to. + </p> + <p> + “Not now, daughter,” he said. “I will hear it all some other time. I am + too weary, Let me only look at your dear face, and hear you call me by + that sweet name, and feel my child's hands in mine. That will be bliss + enough for this day. Another time we will speak about the—the + situation that you are in.” + </p> + <p> + As he was thus agitated, Edith was forced to refrain from asking him a + thousand things which she was longing to know. She wished to learn how he + had escaped, how he had made it to be believed that he was dead, and + whether he was in any present danger. But all this she had to postpone. + She had also to postpone her knowledge of that great secret—the + secret that had baffled her, and which he had preserved inviolable through + all these years. She now saw that her suspicions of the man “John Wiggins” + must have been unfounded, and indeed the personality of “Wiggins” became a + complete puzzle to her. + </p> + <p> + He bade her a tender adieu, promising to come early on the following day. + </p> + <p> + But on the following day there were no signs of him. Edith waited in + terrible impatience, which finally deepened into alarm as his coming was + still delayed. She had known so much of sorrow that she had learned to + look for it, and began to expect some new calamity. Here, where she had + found her father, where she had received his forgiveness for that which + would never cease to cause remorse to herself, here, in this moment of + respite from despair, she saw the black prospect of renewed misery. It was + as though she had found him for a moment, only to lose him forever. + </p> + <p> + Toward evening a note was sent to her. She tore it open. It was from Mrs. + Dunbar, and informed her that her father was quite ill, and was unable to + visit her, but hoped that he might recover. + </p> + <p> + After that several days passed, and she heard nothing. At length another + note came informing her that her father had been dangerously ill, but was + now convalescent. + </p> + <p> + Other days passed, and Edith heard regularly. Her father was growing + steadily better. On one of these notes he had written his name with a + trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + And so amidst these fresh sorrows, and with her feelings ever alternating + between hope and despair, Edith lingered on through the time that + intervened until the day of the trial. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. — THE TRIAL. + </h2> + <p> + At length the day for the trial arrived, and the place was crowded. At the + appearance of Edith there arose a murmur of universal sympathy and pity. + All the impressions which had been formed of her were falsified. Some had + expected to see a coarse masculine woman; others a crafty, sinister face; + others an awkward, ill-bred rustic, neglected since her father's trial by + designing guardians. Instead of this there appeared before them a slender, + graceful, youthful form, with high refinement and perfect breeding in + every outline and movement. The heavy masses of her dark hair were folded + across her brow, and wreathed in voluminous folds behind. Her pallid face + bore traces of many griefs through which she had passed, and her large + spiritual eyes had a piteous look as they wandered for a moment over the + crowd. + </p> + <p> + No one was prepared to see any thing like this, and all hearts were at + once touched. It seemed preposterous to suppose that one like her could be + otherwise than innocent. + </p> + <p> + The usual formulas took place, and the trial began. The witnesses were + those who had already been examined. It was rumored that Sir Lionel + Dudleigh was to be brought forward, and “Wiggins,” and Mrs. Dunbar, but + not till the following day. + </p> + <p> + At the end of that day the opinion of the public was strongly in favor of + Edith; but still there was great uncertainty as to her guilt or innocence. + It was generally believed that she had been subject to too much restraint, + and in a foolish desire to escape had been induced to marry Dudleigh. But + she had found him a worse master than the other, and had hated him from + the first, so that they had many quarrels, in which she had freely + threatened his life. Finally both had disappeared on the same night. He + was dead; she survived. + </p> + <p> + The deceased could not have committed suicide, for the head was missing. + Had it not been for that missing head, the theory of suicide would have + been plausible. + </p> + <p> + The second day of the trial came. Edith had seen her father on the + previous evening, and had learned something from him which had produced a + beneficial effect, for there was less terror and dejection in her face. + This was the first time that she had seen him since his illness. + </p> + <p> + There was one in the hall that day who looked at her with an earnest + glance of scrutiny as he took his place among the witnesses. + </p> + <p> + It was Sir Lionel Dudleigh, who had come here to give what testimony he + could about his son. His face was as serene as usual; there was no sadness + upon it, such as might have been expected in the aspect of a father so + terribly bereaved; but the broad content and placid bonhomie appeared to + be invincible. + </p> + <p> + The proceedings of this day were begun by an announcement on the part of + the counsel for the defense, which fell like a thunder-clap upon the + court. Sir Lionel started, and all in the court involuntarily stretched + forward their heads as though to see better the approach of the + astonishing occurrence which had been announced. + </p> + <p> + The announcement was simply this, that any further proceedings were + useless, since the missing man himself had been found, and was to be + produced forthwith. There had been no murder, and the body that had been + found must be that of some person unknown. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after a group entered the hall. First came Frederick Dalton, known + to the court as “John Wiggins.” He still bore traces of his recent + illness, and, indeed, was not fit to be out of his bed, but he had dragged + himself here to be present at this momentous scene. He was terribly + emaciated, and moved with difficulty, supported by Mrs. Dunbar, who + herself showed marks of suffering and exhaustion almost equal to his. + </p> + <p> + But after these came another, upon whom all eyes were fastened, and even + Edith's gaze was drawn away from her father, to whom she had longed to fly + so as to sustain his dear form, and fixed upon this new-comer. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh! The one whom she had known as Mowbray. Dudleigh! + </p> + <p> + Yes, there he stood. + </p> + <p> + Edith's eyes were fixed upon him in speechless amazement. It was Dudleigh, + and yet it seemed as though it could not be Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + There was that form and there was that face which had haunted her for so + long a time, and had been associated with so many dark and terrible + memories—the form and the face which were so hateful, which never + were absent from her thoughts, and intruded even upon her dreams. + </p> + <p> + Yet upon that face there was now something which was not repulsive even to + her. It was a noble, spiritual face. Dudleigh's features were remarkable + for their faultless outline and symmetry, and now the expression was in + perfect keeping with the beauty of physical form, for the old hardness had + departed, and the deep stamp of sensuality and selfishness was gone, and + the sinister look which had once marred those features could be traced + there no more. + </p> + <p> + It was thinner than the face which Edith remembered, and it seemed to her + as if it had been worn down by some illness. If so, it must have been the + same cause which had imparted to those features the refinement and high + bearing which were now visible there. There was the same broad brow + covered with its clustering locks, the same penetrating eyes, the same + square, strong chin, the same firm, resolute month, but here it was as + though a finer touch had added a subtle grace to all these; for about that + mouth there lingered the traces of gentleness and kindliness, like the + remnant of sweet smiles; the glance of the eye was warmer and more human; + there was also an air of melancholy, and over all a grandeur of bearing + which spoke of high breeding and conscious dignity. + </p> + <p> + This man, with his earnest and even melancholy face and lofty bearing, did + not seem like one who could have plotted so treacherously against a + helpless girl. His aspect filled Edith with something akin to awe, and + produced a profound impression upon the spectators. They forgot the hatred + which they had begun to feel against Dudleigh in the living presence of + the object of their hate, and looked in silence first at Edith, then at + the new-comer, wondering why it was that between such as these there could + be any thing less than mutual affection. They thought they could + understand now why she should choose him as a husband. They could not + understand how such a husband could become hateful. + </p> + <p> + In all the court but one object seemed to attract Dudleigh, and that was + Edith. His eyes had wandered about at first, and finally had rested on + her. With a glance of profoundest and most gentle sympathy he looked at + her, conveying in that one look enough to disarm even her resentment. She + understood that look, and felt it, and as she looked at him in return she + was filled with wonder. + </p> + <p> + Could such things be? she thought. Was this the man who had caused her so + much suffering, who bad blasted and blighted the hopes of her life? or, + rather, had the man who had so wronged her been transformed to this? + Impossible! As well might a fiend become changed to an archangel. And yet + here he was. Evidently this was Dudleigh. She looked at him in speechless + bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + The proceedings of the court went on, and Dudleigh soon explained his + disappearance. As he spoke his voice confirmed the fact that he was + Dudleigh; but Edith listened to it with the same feelings which had been + excited by his face. It was the same voice, yet not the same; it was the + voice of Dudleigh, but the coldness and the mockery of its intonations + were not there. Could he have been playing a devil's part all along, and + was he now coming out in his true character, or was this a false part? No; + whatever else was false, this was not—that expression of face, that + glance of the eye, those intonations, could never be feigned. So Edith + thought as she listened. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh's explanation was a simple one. He had not been very happy at + Dalton Hall and had concluded to go away that night for a tour on the + Continent. He had left so as to get the early morning train, and had + traveled on without stopping until he reached Palermo, from which he had + gone to different places in the interior of Sicily, which he mentioned. He + had climbed over the gate, because he was in too much of a hurry to wake + the porter. He had left his valise, as he intended to walk. He had, of + course, left his dog at Dalton, because he couldn't take him to the + Continent. He had forgotten his watch, for the reason that he had slept + longer than he intended, and dressed and went off in a great hurry. The + pocket-book which he left was of no importance—contained principally + memoranda, of no use to any but himself. He had no idea there would have + been such a row, or he would not have gone in such a hurry. He had heard + of this for the first time in Sicily, and would have come at once, but, + unfortunately, he had a attack of fever, and could not return before. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have been more natural and frank than Dudleigh's statement. + A few questions were asked, merely to satisfy public curiosity. Every one + thought that a trip to Sicily was a natural enough thing for one who was + on such bad terms with his wife, and the suddenness of his resolution to + go there was sufficient to account for the disorder in which he had left + his room. + </p> + <p> + But all this time there was one in that court who looked upon the + new-comer with far different feelings that those which any other had. + </p> + <p> + This was Sir Lionel Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + He had heard the remark of the counsel that Dudleigh had returned, and + looked toward the door as he entered with a smile on his face. As he saw + Dudleigh enter he started. Then his face turned ghastly white, and his jaw + fell. He clutched the railing in front of him with both hands, and seemed + fascinated by the sight. + </p> + <p> + Near him stood Mrs. Dunbar, and Dalton leaned on her. Both of these looked + fixedly at Sir Lionel, and noticed his emotion. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Dudleigh's voice Sir Lionel's emotion increased. He + breathed heavily. His face turned purple. His knuckles turned white as he + grasped the railing. Suddenly, in the midst of Dudleigh's remarks, he + started to his feet, and seemed about to say something. Immediately in + front of him were Dalton and Mrs. Dunbar. At that instant, as he rose, + Mrs. Dunbar laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with astonishment. He had not seen her before. She fixed + her solemn eyes on him—those eyes to which had come a gloom more + profound, and a sadness deeper than before. But Sir Lionel stared at her + without recognition, and impatiently tried to shake off her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he said, suddenly, in a trembling voice—for there was + something in this woman's face that suggested startling thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dunbar drew nearer to him, and in a whisper that thrilled through + every fibre of Sir Lionel's frame, hissed in his ear, + </p> + <p> + “<i>I am your wife—and here is my brother Frederick!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Over Sir Lionel's face there came a flash of horror, sudden, sharp, and + overwhelming. He staggered and shrank back. + </p> + <p> + “Claudine!” he murmured, in a stifled voice. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” whispered Lady Dudleigh—now no longer Mrs. Dunbar—“sit + down, or you shall have to change places with Frederick's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel swayed backward and forward, and appeared not to hear her. And + now his eyes wandered to Dalton, who stood gazing solemnly at him, and + then to Dudleigh, who was still speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Your son!” said Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE LOOKED AT HER WITH ASTONISHMENT."} + </p> + <p> + At this instant Dudleigh finished. Sir Lionel gave a terrible groan, and + flung up his arms wildly. The next instant he fell heavily forward, and + was caught in the arms of his wife. A crowd flew to his assistance, and he + was carried out of court, followed by Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of universal sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Sir Lionel! He has been heartbroken, and the joy of his son's safety + is too much.” + </p> + <p> + After this the proceedings soon came to an end. + </p> + <p> + Edith was free! + </p> + <p> + Dalton tried to get to her, but in his weakness sank upon a seat, and + looked imploringly at his daughter. Seeing this, Dudleigh sprang to his + assistance, and gave his arm. Leaning heavily upon this, Dalton walked + toward Edith, who was already striving to reach him, and, with a low cry, + caught her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel had been taken to the inn, where Lady Dudleigh waited on him. + After some time he recovered his senses, and began to rally rapidly. It + had been feared that it was apoplexy, but, fortunately for the sufferer, + it turned out to be nothing so serious as that. After this Lady Dudleigh + was left alone with her husband. + </p> + <p> + Ten years of separation lay between these two—a separation + undertaken from causes that still existed to alienate them beyond the hope + of reconciliation. Yet there was much to be said; and Lady Dudleigh had + before her a dark and solemn purpose. + </p> + <p> + On the next day Sir Lionel was able to drive out. Lady Dudleigh seemed to + have constituted herself his guardian. Sir Lionel's face and expression + had changed. The easy, careless bonhomie, the placid content, the serene + joyousness, that had once characterized him, were gone. In the place of + these there came an anxious, watchful, troubled look—the look of a + mind ill at ease—the furtive glance, the clouded brow. It was as + though in this meeting Lady Dudleigh had communicated to her husband a + part of that expression which prevailed in her own face. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel seemed like a prisoner who is attended by an ever-vigilant + guard—one who watches all his movements, and from whom he can not + escape. As he rolled along in his carriage, the Black Care of the poet + seemed seated beside him in the person of Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + While Sir Lionel thus recovered from the sudden shock which he had felt, + there was another who had endured a longer and severer course of + suffering, and who had rallied for a moment when his presence was + required, but only to sink back into a relapse worse than the illness from + which he had begun to recover. This was Frederick Dalton, who had crawled + from his bed twice—once to his daughter's prison, and once to the + scene of her trial. But the exertion was too much, and the agitation of + feeling to which he had been subject had overwhelmed him. Leaning heavily + on Dudleigh, and also on Edith, he was taken by these two to his carriage, + and thence to the inn; but here he could walk no further. It was Dudleigh + who had to carry him to his room and lay him on his bed—and + Dudleigh, too, who would intrust to no other person the task of putting + his prostrate form in that bed. Dudleigh's own father was lying in the + same house, but at that moment, whatever were his motives, Dalton seemed + to have stronger claims on his filial duty, and Edith had to wait till + this unlooked-for nurse had tenderly placed her father in his bed. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who had found Sir Lionel's case so trifling, shook his head + seriously over Frederick Dalton. Dudleigh took up his station in that + room, and cared for the patient like a son. The day passed, and the night, + and the next morning, but Dalton grew no better. It was a strange stupor + which affected him, not like paralysis, but arising rather from + exhaustion, or some affection of the brain. The doctor called it + congestion. He lay in a kind of doze, without sense and without suffering, + swallowing any food or medicine that might be offered, but never noticing + any thing, and never answering any questions. His eyes were closed at all + times, and in that stupor he seemed to be in a state of living death. + </p> + <p> + Edith's grief was profound; but in the midst of it she could not help + feeling wonder at the unexpected part which Dudleigh was performing. Who + was he that he should take so large a part in the care of her father? Yet + so it was; and Dudleigh seemed to think of nothing and see nothing but + that old man's wasted and prostrate form. + </p> + <p> + For the present, at least, departure from the inn was of course out of the + question. Edith's position was a very distressing one. Every feeling of + her heart impelled her to be present at her father's bedside, but Dudleigh + was present at that same bedside; and how could she associate herself with + him even there? At first she would enter the room, and sit quietly by her + father's bedside, and on such occasions Dudleigh would respectfully + withdraw; but this was unpleasant, and she hardly knew what to do. + </p> + <p> + Two or three days thus passed, and on the third Dudleigh requested an + interview, to ask her, as he said, something about “Mr. Wiggins”—for + this was the name by which Mr. Dalton still was called. This request Edith + could not refuse. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh entered with an air of profound respect. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dalton,” said he, laying emphasis on that name, “nothing would + induce me to intrude upon you but my anxiety about your father. Deep as + your affection for him may be, it can hardly be greater than mine. I would + gladly lay down my life for him. At the same time, I understand your + feelings, and this is what I wish to speak about. I would give up my place + at his bedside altogether if you wished it, and you should not be troubled + by my presence; but I see that you are not strong enough to be sole nurse, + or to undertake the work that would be required of you, and that your own + affection for him would impose upon you. You yourself are not strong, and + you must take care of yourself for his sake. I will not, therefore, give + up to you all the care of your father, but I will absent myself during the + afternoon, and you will then have exclusive care of him.” + </p> + <p> + Edith bowed without a word, and Dudleigh withdrew. + </p> + <p> + This arrangement was kept up, and Edith scarcely saw Dudleigh at all. She + knew, however, that his care for her father was incessant and + uninterrupted. Every thing that could possibly be needed was supplied; + every luxury or delicacy that could be thought of was obtained; and not + only were London physicians constantly coming up, but from the notes which + lay around, she judged that Dudleigh kept up a constant correspondence + with them about this case. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. — SIR LIONEL AND HIS “KEEPER” + </h2> + <p> + Sir Lionel, who had come to this place with the face that indicated a mind + at peace, thus found himself suddenly confronted by a grim phantom, the + aspect of which struck terror to his heart. That phantom was drawn up from + a past which he usually did not care to remember. Now, however, he could + not forget it. There was one by his side to remind him of it always—one + who had become his guard, his jailer—in fact, his keeper—a + word which signifies better than any other the attitude which was assumed + by Lady Dudleigh. For the feeling which Sir Lionel had toward her was + precisely like that which the lunatic has toward his keeper, the feeling + that this one is watching night and day, and never relaxes the terrible + stare of those vigilant eyes. There are those who on being thus watched + would grow mad; and Sir Lionel had this in addition to his other terrors—this + climax of them all, that upon him there was always the maddening glare of + his “keeper's” eyes. Terrible eyes were they to him, most terrible—eyes + which he dared not encounter. They were the eyes of his wife—a woman + most injured; and her gaze reminded him always of a past full of horror. + That gaze he could not encounter. He knew without looking at it what it + meant. He felt it on him. There were times when it made his flesh crawl, + nor could he venture to face it. + </p> + <p> + A few days of this reduced him to a state of abject misery. He began to + fear that he was really growing mad. In that case he would be a fit + subject for a “keeper.” He longed with unutterable longing to throw off + this terrible restraint; but he could not and dared not. That woman, that + “keeper,” wielded over him a power which he knew and felt, and dared not + defy. It was the power that arises from the knowledge of secrets of life + and death, and her knowledge placed his life in her hands. + </p> + <p> + This woman was inflexible and inexorable. She had suffered so much that + she had no pity for his present sufferings. These seemed trivial to her. + She showed a grand, strong, self-sufficient nature, which made her his + superior, and put her above the reach of any influences that he might + bring. He could remember the time when she was a fair and gentle young + girl, with her will all subject to his; then a loving bride with no + thought apart from him; but now years of suffering and self-discipline had + transformed her to this, and she came back to him an inexorable Fate, an + avenging Nemesis. + </p> + <p> + Yet Sir Lionel did not give up all hope. He could not drive her away. He + could not fly away from her, for her watch was too vigilant; but he hoped + for some chance of secret flight in which, if he once escaped, he might + find his way to the Continent. With something of that cunning which + characterizes the insane, and which, perhaps, is born of the presence of a + “keeper,” Sir Lionel watched his opportunity, and one day nearly succeeded + in effecting his desire. + </p> + <p> + That day Lady Dudleigh was in her brother's room. Sir Lionel had waited + for this, and had made his preparations. When she had been gone for a few + minutes, he stole softly out of his room, passed stealthily down the back + stairs of the inn, and going out of the back-door, reached the rear of the + house. Here there was a yard, and a gate that led out to a road at the end + of the house. A carriage had been in waiting here for about an hour. Sir + Lionel hurried across the yard, passed through the gate, and looked for + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + He took one glance, and then a deep oath escaped him. + </p> + <p> + In the carriage was Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + How she could have detected his flight he could not imagine, nor did he + now care. She had detected it, and had followed at once to circumvent him. + She must have gone down the front stairs, out of the front-door, and + reached the carriage before him. And there she was! Those hateful eyes + were fixed on him—he felt the horrid stare—he cowered beneath + it. He walked toward her. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I would go out too,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel said not a word. He felt too much ashamed to turn back now, and + was too politic to allow her to see any open signs that he was in full + flight; so he quietly got into the carriage, and took his seat by her + side. + </p> + <p> + Whipping up the horses, he drove them at a headlong rate of speed out + through the streets into the country. His whole soul was full of mad fury. + Rage and disappointment together excited his brain to madness; and the + fierce rush of the impetuous steeds was in accordance with the excitement + of his mind. At length the horses themselves grew fatigued, and slackened + their pace. Sir Lionel still tried to urge them forward, but in vain, and + at last he flung down the whip with a curse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not stand this any longer!” he cried, vehemently, addressing his + “keeper,” but not looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “This style of being dogged and tracked and watched.” + </p> + <p> + “You allude to me, I suppose,” said Lady Dudleigh. “At any rate, you must + allow that it is better to be tracked, as you call it, by me, than by the + officers of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” growled Sir Lionel, gathering courage. “I'll not stand + this style of thing any longer. I'll not let them have it all their own + way.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what you can do,” said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Do!” cried Sir Lionel, in a still more violent tone—“do! I'll tell + you what I'll do: I'll fight it out.” + </p> + <p> + “Fight!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Sir Lionel, with an oath. “Every one of you—every one. + Every one without a single exception. Oh, you needn't think that I'm + afraid. I've thought it all over. You're all under my power. Yes—ha, + ha, ha! that's it. I've said it, and I say what I mean. You thought that I + was under your power. Your power! Ha, ha, ha! That's good. Why, you're all + under mine—every one of you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel spoke wildly and vehemently, in that tone of feverish + excitement which marks a madman. It may have been the influence of his + “keeper,” or it may have been the dawnings of actual insanity. + </p> + <p> + As for Lady Dudleigh, she did not lose one particle of her + cold-bloodedness. She simply said, in the same tone, + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “How? Ha, ha! Do you think I'm going to tell <i>you</i>? That's <i>my</i> + secret. But stop. Yes; I don't care. I'd just as soon tell as not. You + can't escape, not one of you, unless you all fly at once to the Continent, + or to America, or, better yet, back to Botany Bay. There you'll be safe. + Fly! fly! fly! or else,” he suddenly added, in a gloomy tone, “you'll all + die on the gallows! every one of you, on the gallows! Ha, ha, ha! swinging + on the gallows! the beautiful gallows!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh disregarded the wildness of his tone, or perhaps she chose + to take advantage of it, thinking that in his excitement he might disclose + his thoughts the more unguardedly. + </p> + <p> + “You can do nothing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Can't I, though?” retorted Sir Lionel. + </p> + <p> + “You wait. First, there's Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Arrest him,” said Sir Lionel. “What is he? An outlaw! An escaped convict! + He lives under an assumed name. He must go back to Botany Bay—that + is, if he isn't hanged. And then there's that pale-faced devil of a + daughter with her terrible eyes.” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “What can you do to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Her! Arrest her too,” cried Sir Lionel. “She murdered my boy—my son—my + Leon. She must be hanged. You shall not save her by this trick. No! she + must be hanged, like her cursed father.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder passed through Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel did not notice it. He was too much taken up with his own + vengeful thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, “and there's that scoundrel Reginald.” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald!” cried Lady Dudleigh, in a stern voice. “Why do you mention + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's one of the same gang,” cried Sir Lionel. “He's playing their + game. He is siding against his father, as he always did, and with his + brother's murderers. He shall not escape. I will avenge Leon's death on + all of you; and as for him, he shall suffer!” + </p> + <p> + It was with a strong effort that Lady Dudleigh restrained herself. But she + succeeded in doing so, and said, simply, as before, + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Arrest him!” cried Sir Lionel. “Arrest him too. He is guilty of perjury; + and if he doesn't hang for it, he'll go back again to Botany Bay with that + scoundrel with whom he sides against me—his own father—and + against his brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any more?” asked Lady Dudleigh, as Sir Lionel ended. + </p> + <p> + “More! Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” shouted Sir Lionel, with a voice of indescribable hate and + ferocity. He turned as he spoke, and stared at her. His wild eyes, + however, met the calm, cold, steady glance of those of his “keeper,” and + they fell before it. He seized the whip and began to lash the horses, + crying as he did so, “You! yes, you! you! most of all!” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do to me?” asked Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “You? Arrest you.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “You? You have done every thing. You have aided and abetted the escape of + an outlaw. You have assisted him in his nefarious occupation of Dalton + Hall. You have aided and abetted him in the imprisonment of Dalton's brat. + You have aided and abetted him in the murder of my boy Leon. You have—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Lady Dudleigh, in a stern, commanding voice. “You have been + a villain always, but you have never been so outspoken. Who are you? Do + you know what happened ten years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Sir Lionel. “Do you mean Dalton's forgery, and his + assassination of that—that banker fellow?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you said that,” said she. “You remove my last scruple. My + brother's wrongs have well-nigh maddened me; but I have hesitated to bear + witness against my husband, and the father of my children. I shall + remember this, and it will sustain me when I bear my witness against you + in a court of law.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” said Sir Lionel. “Me? Witness against me? You can not. No one will + believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not be only your wife,” said she, “though that will be something, + but your own self, with your own hand.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what you know very well—your letter which you wrote to + Frederick, inclosing your forged check.” + </p> + <p> + “I never forged a check, and I never wrote a letter inclosing one!” cried + Sir Lionel. “Dalton forged that letter himself, if there is such a letter. + He was an accomplished forger, and has suffered for it.” + </p> + <p> + “The letter is your own,” said Lady Dudleigh, “and I can swear to it.” + </p> + <p> + “No one will believe you,” cried Sir Lionel. “You shall be arrested for + perjury.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh gave another grim smile, and then she added, “There is that + <i>Maltese cross</i>. You forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “What Maltese cross?” said Sir Lionel. “I never had one. That wasn't mine; + it was Dalton's.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can swear in a court of law,” said Lady Dudleigh, “that this + Maltese cross was <i>yours</i>, and that it was given to you by me as a + birthday gift.” + </p> + <p> + “No one will believe you!” cried Sir Lionel; “no one will believe you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Will they refuse the oath of Lady Dudleigh?” + </p> + <p> + “I can show them that you are insane,” said Sir Lionel, with a chuckle at + the idea, which seemed to him like a sudden inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “You will not be able to show that Reginald is insane,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Reginald?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Reginald,” repeated Lady Dudleigh. “Reginald knows that Maltese + cross, and knows when I gave it to you. He too will be ready to swear to + that in a court of law whenever I tell him that he may do so. + </p> + <p> + “Reginald?” said Sir Lionel, in a gloomy voice. “Why, he was—a child + then.” + </p> + <p> + “He was sixteen years old,” said Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + This mention of Reginald seemed to crush Sir Lionel. He was silent for a + long time. Evidently he had not been prepared for this in his plans for + what he called a “fight.” He sat in moody silence therefore. Once or twice + he stole a furtive glance at her, and threw upon her a look which she did + not see. It was a look full of hate and malignancy, while at the same time + there was an expression of satisfaction in his face, as though he had + conceived some new plan, which he intended to keep a secret all to + himself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. — LADY DUDLEIGH'S DECISION. + </h2> + <p> + During the remainder of that drive nothing was said by either. Sir Lionel + had his own thoughts, which, whatever they were, appeared to give him a + certain satisfaction, and his brow was more unclouded when they reached + the inn than it had been ever since the day of the trial. Evidently the + new design which he had conceived, and which remained unuttered in his + mind, was very satisfactory to him. + </p> + <p> + That evening he himself began the conversation with Lady Dudleigh, a thing + which he had not before done. + </p> + <p> + “It's all very well,” said he, “for you to carry on your own plans. You + may carry them on and welcome. I won't prevent you; in fact, I can't. It's + no use to deny it; I'm in your power. You're determined to crush me, and I + must be crushed, I suppose. You are going to show to the world the strange + spectacle of a wife and a son rising up against a husband and father, and + swearing his life away. You will lead on, and Reginald will follow. This + is the education that you have given him—it is to end in parricide. + Very well; I must submit. Wife, slay your husband! mother, lead your son + to parricide! Of course you comfort your conscience with the plea that you + are doing justice. In the French Revolution there were wives who denounced + their husbands, and sons who denounced their fathers, in the name of + 'humanity,' and for the good of the republic. So go on. See that justice + be done. Come on yourself to assassinate your husband, and bring on your + parricide! Take sides with those who have murdered your son—the son + whom you bore to me, and once loved! Unsex yourself, and become a Fury! It + is useless for me to make resistance, I suppose; and yet, woman! wife! + mother! let me tell you that on the day when you attempt to do these + things, and when your son stands by your side to help you, there will go + up a cry of horror against you from outraged humanity!” + </p> + <p> + At this Lady Dudleigh looked at him, who, as usual, averted his eyes; but + she made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him on!” said Sir Lionel—“your son—my son—the + parricide! Do your worst. But at the same time allow me to inform you, in + the mildest manner in the world, that if I am doomed, there is no reason + why I should go mad in this infernal hole. What is more, I do not intend + to stay here one single day longer. I'm not going to run away. That is + impossible; you keep too sharp a look-out altogether. I'm simply going + away from this place of horrors, and I rather think I'll go home. I'll go + home—yes, home. Home is the place for me—Dudleigh Manor, where + I first took you, my true wife—that is the place for me to be in + when you come to me, you and your son, to hand me over, Judas-like, to + death. Yes, I'm going home, and if you choose to accompany me, why, all + that I can say is, I'll have to bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” said Lady Dudleigh, laconically. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” said Sir Lionel, “quite a true wife; like Ruth and Naomi. + Whither thou goest, I will go. You see, I'm up in my Bible. Well, as I + said, I can not prevent you, and I suppose there is no need for me to tell + you to get ready.” + </p> + <p> + Whether under these bitter taunts Lady Dudleigh writhed or not did not at + all appear. She seemed as cool and calm as ever. Perhaps she had so + schooled her nature that she was able to repress all outward signs of + emotion, or perhaps she had undergone so much that a taunt could have no + sting for her, or perhaps she had already contemplated and familiarized + herself with all these possible views of her conduct to such an extent + that the mention of them created no emotion. At any rate, whatever she + felt, Sir Lionel saw nothing. + </p> + <p> + Having discharged this shot, Sir Lionel went to his desk, and taking out + writing materials, began to write a letter. He wrote rapidly, and once or + twice glanced furtively at Lady Dudleigh, as though he was fearful that + she might overlook his writing. But there was no danger of that. Lady + Dudleigh did not move from her place. She did not seem to be aware that he + was writing at all. + </p> + <p> + At length Sir Lionel finished, and then he folded, sealed, and addressed + the letter. He finished this task with a face of supreme satisfaction, and + stole a look toward Lady Dudleigh, in which there was a certain cunning + triumph very visible, though it was not seen by the one at whom it was + directed. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said he, waving the letter somewhat ostentatiously, and + speaking in a formal tone, in which there was an evident sneer—“and + now, Lady Dudleigh, I have the honor to inform you that I intend to go out + and post this letter. May I have the honor of your company as far as the + post-office, and back?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh rose in silence, and hastily throwing on her things, + prepared to follow him. Sir Lionel waited with mocking politeness, opened + the door, for her to pass out first, and then in company with her went to + the post-office, where he mailed the letter, and returned with the smile + of satisfaction still upon his face. + </p> + <p> + Early on the next morning Lady Dudleigh saw her son. He had watched all + that night by Dalton's bedside, and seemed pale and exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “Reginald,” said Lady Dudleigh, “Sir Lionel is going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Going away?” repeated Reginald, absently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; back to Dudleigh Manor.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald looked inquiringly at his mother, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I intend,” said Lady Dudleigh, “to go with him.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald looked at her mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done any thing with him yet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect to do any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you will be disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. I have at least gained a hold upon him, and I have certainly + worked upon his fears. If I remain with him now I hope in time to extort + from him that confession which will save us all from an additional sorrow; + one perhaps as terrible as any we have ever known, if not even more so.” + </p> + <p> + “Confession!” repeated Reginald. “How is that possible? He will never + confess—never. If he has remained silent so long, and has not been + moved by the thought of all that he has done, what possible thing can move + him? Nothing but the actual presence of the law. Nothing but force.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lady Dudleigh, “it is worth trying—the other + alternative is too terrible just yet. I hope to work upon his fears. I + hope to persuade him to confess, and fly from the country to some place of + safety. Frederick must be righted at all hazards, and I hope to show this + so plainly to Sir Lionel that he will acquiesce in <i>my</i> proposal, + confess all, save Frederick, and then fly to some place where he may be + safe. If not, why, then we can try the last resort. But oh, Reginald, do + you not see how terrible that last resort is?—I against my husband, + you against your father—both of us bringing him to the gallows! It + is only the intolerable sense of Frederick's long-sufferings that can make + me think of doing so terrible a thing. But Frederick is even now in + danger. He must be saved; and the question is between the innocent and the + guilty. I am strong enough to decide differently from what I did ten years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know—I feel it all, mother dear,” said Reginald; “but at the + same time I don't like the idea of your going away with him—alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like the idea of your putting yourself in his power.” + </p> + <p> + “His power?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in Dudleigh Manor, or any other place. He is desperate. He will not + shrink from any thing that he thinks may save him from this danger. You + will be his chief danger; he may think of getting rid of it. He is + unscrupulous, and would stop at nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that, he may be desperate, but what can he possibly do? + Dudleigh Manor is in the world. It is not in some remote place where the + master is superior to law. He can do no more harm there than he can here.” + </p> + <p> + “The man,” said Reginald, “who for all these years has outraged honor and + justice and truth, and has stifled his own conscience for the sake of his + comfort, must by this time be familiar with desperate deeds, and be + capable of any crime. I am afraid, mother dear, for you to trust yourself + with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald,” said Lady Dudleigh, “you speak as though I were a child or a + schoolgirl. Does he seem now as though he could harm me, or do I seem to + be one who can easily be put down? Would you be afraid to go with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I—afraid? That is the very thing that I wish to propose.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could not possibly have that influence over him which I have. You + might threaten, easily enough, and come to an open rupture, but that is + what I wish to avoid. I wish to bring him to a confession, not so much by + direct threats as by various constraining moral influences.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that,” said Reginald, “I have no doubt that you will do far + better than I can; but at the same time I can not get rid of a fear about + your safety.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you really think, Reginald, that I would be less safe than you? + or, from what you know of me, should you suppose that I have much of that + woman's weakness about me which might make me an easy prey to one who + wished to do me harm?” + </p> + <p> + “I know well what you are, mother dear,” said Reginald, taking her hand + tenderly in both of his. “You have the tenderness of a woman and the + courage of a man; but still I feel uneasy. At any rate, promise me one + thing. You will let me know what you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not promise to write regularly,” said Lady Dudleigh, “but I do + promise to write the moment that any thing happens worth writing about.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are ill, or in danger?” said Reginald, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, of course I shall write at once. But now I must go. I shall not + see you again for some time. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh kissed her son tenderly as she said this, and left him, and + Reginald returned to his place by Fredrick Dalton's bedside. + </p> + <p> + That same day, shortly after this interview, Sir Lionel and Lady Dudleigh + drove away from the inn, <i>en route</i> for Dudleigh Manor. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. — LADY DUDLEIGH IS SHOWN TO HER ROOM. + </h2> + <p> + After driving for about a mile Sir Lionel and Lady Dudleigh took the + train, securing a compartment to themselves. + </p> + <p> + During this part of the journey Sir Lionel's face lost much of that gloom + which of late had pervaded it, and assumed an expression which was less + dismal, though not quite like the old one. The old look was one of serene + and placid content, an air of animal comfort, and of easy-going + self-indulgence; but now the expression was more restless and excited. + There was a certain knowing look—a leer of triumphant cunning—combined + with a tendency to chuckle over some secret purpose which no one else + knew. Together with this there was incessant restlessness; he appeared + perpetually on the look-out, as though dreading discovery; and he + alternated between exultant nods of his head, with knowing winks at + vacancy, and sudden sharp furtive glances at his companion. Changed as Sir + Lionel's mood was, it can hardly be said that the change was for the + better. It would have been obvious even to a more superficial observer + than that vigilant “keeper” who accompanied him that Sir Lionel had lost + his self-poise, and was in rather a dangerous way. Lady Dudleigh must have + noticed this; but it made no difference to her, save that there was + perhaps a stonier lustre in her eyes as she turned them upon him, and a + sharper vigilance in her attitude. + </p> + <p> + In this way they rode on for several hours; and whatever Sir Lionel's + plans might have been, they certainly did not involve any action during + the journey. Had he been sufficiently violent he might have made an + assault upon his companion in the seclusion of that compartment, and + effectually prevented any trouble ever arising to him from her. He might + have done this, and made good his escape in the confusion of some station. + But no such attempt was made; and so in due time they reached the place + where they were to get out. + </p> + <p> + “This is the nearest station to Dudleigh Manor,” said Sir Lionel, gayly. + “This road has been made since your time.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh said nothing, but looked around. She saw nothing that was + familiar. A neat wayside station, with the usual platform, was nearest; + and beyond this arose trees which concealed the view on one side, while on + the other there were fields and hedges, and one or two houses in the + distance. It was a commonplace scene, in a level sort of country, and Lady + Dudleigh, after one short survey, thought no more about it. It was just + like any other wayside station. + </p> + <p> + A common-looking hack, with a rather ill-dressed driver, was waiting, and + toward this Sir Lionel walked. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said he, “is the Dudleigh coach. It isn't so grand an affair as it + used to be; but my means have dwindled a good deal since your day, you + know, and I have to economize—yes—ha, ha, ha!—economize—queer + thing too, isn't it? Economizing—ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel's somewhat flighty manner was not at all congenial to Lady + Dudleigh, and she treated him as the vigilant “keeper” always treats his + flighty prisoner—that is, with silent patience and persistent + watchfulness. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes they were both seated inside the coach, and were driving + away. The coach was a gloomy one, with windows only in the doors. The rest + was solid woodwork. These windows in the doors were small, and when let + down were scarcely large enough for one to put his head through. When + sitting down it was impossible for Lady Dudleigh to see the road. She + could see nothing but the tops of the trees, between which the sky + appeared occasionally. She saw that she was driving along a road which was + shaded with trees on both sides; but more than this she could not see. + </p> + <p> + They drove for about an hour at a moderate pace, and during this time Sir + Lionel preserved that same peculiar demeanor which has already been + described, while Lady Dudleigh maintained her usual silent watchfulness. + </p> + <p> + At length they stopped for a moment. Voices sounded outside, and then Lady + Dudleigh saw that she was passing through a gateway. Thinking that this + was Dudleigh Manor, she made no remark, but calmly awaited the time when + she should reach the house. She did not have to wait long. Sooner than she + expected the coach stopped. The driver got down and opened the door. Sir + Lionel sprang out with surprising agility, and held out his hand politely + to assist his companion. She did not accept his offer, but stepped out + without assistance, and looked around. + </p> + <p> + To her surprise, the place was not Dudleigh Manor at all, but one which + was entirely different, and quite unfamiliar. It was a brick house of no + very great size, though larger than most private houses, of plain + exterior, and with the air of a public building of some sort. The grounds + about were stiff and formal and forbidding. The door was open, and one or + two men were standing there. It did not look like an inn, and yet it + certainly was not a private residence. + </p> + <p> + “I have to stop here for a little while,” said Sir Lionel, “to see a + friend on business. We are not half-way to Dudleigh Manor yet; it's + further than you think.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and went up the steps. Lady Dudleigh looked around once more, + and then followed him. The men at the head of the steps looked at her + curiously as she went in. She took no notice of them, however, but walked + past them, looking calmly beyond them. + </p> + <p> + On entering the house she saw a bare hall covered with slate-colored + oil-cloth, and with a table against the wall. A gray-headed man came out + of one of the rooms, and advanced to meet Sir Lionel, who shook hands with + him very cordially, and whispered to him a few words. The gray-headed man + wore spectacles, was clean shaven, with a double chin, and a somewhat + sleek and oily exterior. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Dudleigh,” said Sir Lionel, leading the gray-headed man forward by + the arm, “allow me to make you acquainted with my particular friend, Dr. + Leonard Morton.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh bowed slightly, and Dr. Morton made a profound obeisance + that seemed like a caricature of politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness to walk up stairs?” said he, and led the way, + while the others followed him. Ascending the stairs, they reached a large + room at the back of the house, which was furnished in the same stiff and + formal way as the hall below. Over the mantel-piece hung an engraving, + somewhat faded out, and on the table were a Bible and a pitcher of water. + </p> + <p> + The doctor politely handed Lady Dudleigh a chair, and made one or two + remarks about the weather. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel,” said he, “if Lady Dudleigh will excuse us for a few moments, + I should like to speak with you in private.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness, Lady Dudleigh,” asked Sir Lionel, “to excuse + us for a few moments? We shall not leave you long alone. And here is a + book—an invaluable book—with which you may occupy your time.” + </p> + <p> + He said this with such exaggerated politeness, and with such a cunning + leer in his eyes, that his tone and manner were most grotesque; and as he + concluded he took up the large Bible with ridiculous solemnity. + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh merely bowed in silence. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks,” said Sir Lionel, turning away; and thereupon he left + the room, followed by the doctor. Lady Dudleigh heard their footsteps + descending the stairs, and then they seemed to go into some room. + </p> + <p> + For some time she forgot all about him. The place had at first surprised + her, but she gave it little thought. She had too much to think of. She had + before her a task which seemed almost impossible; and if she failed in + this, there was before her that dread alternative which Sir Lionel had + presented to her so plainly. Other things too there were besides her + husband—connected with all who were dearest to her—her + brother, perhaps, dying before he had accomplished his work; her son so + mysteriously murdered; her other son awaiting her command to assist in + bringing his father to death. Besides, there was the danger that even now + might be impending over these—the danger of discovery. Sir Lionel's + desperate threats might have some meaning, and who could tell how it might + result if he sought to carry out those threats? + </p> + <p> + Brooding over such thoughts as these, she forgot about the lapse of time, + and at last was roused to herself by the entrance of a woman. She was + large and coarse and fat. + </p> + <p> + At the door stood another woman. + </p> + <p> + “Your room's ready, missus,” said the woman, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh rose. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want a room,” said she. “I intend to go in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, ye'd better come to your room now, and not keep us waitin',” said + the woman. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't wait,” said Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” said the woman, impatiently. “It's no use stayin' here all + day.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh felt annoyed at this insolence, and began to think that Sir + Lionel had run away while she had forgotten about him. She said nothing to + the women, but walked toward the door. The two stood there in the way. + </p> + <p> + “I will go down,” said she, haughtily, “and wait below. Go and tell Sir + Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + The women stared at one another. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE WAS DRAGGED ALONG HELPLESSLY."} + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel Dudleigh,” said Lady Dudleigh, “is with Dr. Morton on + business. Tell him that I am tired of waiting, or take me to the room + where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, 'm,” said one of the women; and saying this, she went down + stairs. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments Dr. Morton came up, followed by the women. The two men + who had been standing at the door came into the hall, and stood there at + the foot of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Sir Lionel?” was Lady Dudleigh's first words. + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has just gone, you know; but he'll soon be back—oh yes, + quite soon. You wait here, and you may go to your room.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in an odd, coaxing tone, as though he were addressing some + fretful child whom it was desirable to humor. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” exclaimed Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he'll soon be back. You needn't wait long. And these women will + take you to your own room. You'll find it very pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no room here,” said Lady Dudleigh, haughtily. “If Sir Lionel has + gone, I shall go too;” and with these words she tried to move past the + woman who was in front of her. But the woman would not move, and the other + woman and the doctor stood there looking at her. All at once the truth + dawned upon her, or a part of the truth. She had been brought here, and + they would keep her here. Who they were she could not imagine, but their + faces were not at all prepossessing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right,” said the doctor, in a smooth voice. “You shall go + to-morrow. We'll send for Sir Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Morton,” said Lady Dudleigh, solemnly, “beware how you detain me. Let + me go, or you shall repent it. I don't know what your motive is, but it + will be a dangerous thing for you. I am Lady Dudleigh, and if you dare to + interfere with my movements you shall suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, oh yes,” said the doctor. “You are Lady Dudleigh. Oh, of course. + And now come, Lady Dudleigh; you shall be treated just like a lady, and + have a nice room, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” cried Lady Dudleigh, indignantly. “This insolence is + insufferable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said the doctor; “it'll be all right, you know. Come, now; go + like a good lady to your room.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad?” exclaimed Lady Dudleigh, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What do you intend to do?” asked Lady Dudleigh, restraining herself with + a strong effort. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing; we shall put you in a nice room, you know—all so + pleasant—for you are not very well; and so. Susan, you just take the + lady's hand, and, Martha, you take the other, and we'll show her the way + to her room.” + </p> + <p> + At this each of the women seized one of Lady Dudleigh's hands quickly and + dextrously, the result of long practice, and then they drew her out of the + room. Lady Dudleigh resisted, but her strength was useless. She was + dragged along helplessly, while all the time the doctor walked after her, + prattling in his usual way about “the nice room,” and how “comfortable” + she would find it. At length they reached a room, and she was taken in. + One of the women entered with her. Lady Dudleigh looked around, and saw + that the walls were bare and whitewashed; the floor was uncarpeted; an + iron bedstead and some simple furniture were around her, and a small + grated window gave light. + </p> + <p> + It looked dreary enough, and sufficiently prison-like to appall any one + who might be thus suddenly thrust in there. Lady Dudleigh sank into a + chair exhausted, and the woman began to make her bed. + </p> + <p> + “My good woman,” said Lady Dudleigh, anxious to get some clue to her + position, “can you tell me what all this means?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure it's all for the good of your health,” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not ill.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to say ill; but the body's often all right when the mind's all + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “The mind? There's nothing the matter with my mind. Dr. Morton has been + deceived. He would not dare to do this if he knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, now, it's nothing at all, and you'll be well soon.” + </p> + <p> + At these simple words of the woman Lady Dudleigh began to understand the + situation. This must be a lunatic asylum, a private one. Sir Lionel had + brought her here, and told the doctor that she was insane. The doctor had + accepted his statement, and had received her as such. This at once + accounted for his peculiar mode of addressing her. + </p> + <p> + “There's a mistake,” said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. “Dr. Morton has been + deceived. Let me see him at once, please, and I will explain. He does not + know what a wrong he is doing. My good woman, I am no more mad than you + are.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear!” said the woman, going on placidly with her work; “that's the + way they all talk. There's not one of them that believes they're mad.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not mad at all,” said Lady Dudleigh, indignant at the woman's + obtuseness. + </p> + <p> + “There, there; don't you go for to excite yourself,” said the woman, + soothingly. “But I s'pose you can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + “So this is a mad-house, is it?” said Lady Dudleigh, gloomily, after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Well, 'm, we don't call it that; we call it a 'sylum. It's Dr. Morton's + 'sylum.” + </p> + <p> + “Now see here,” said Lady Dudleigh, making a fresh effort, and trying to + be as cool as possible, “I am Lady Dudleigh. I have been brought here by a + trick. Dr. Morton is deceived. He is committing a crime in detaining me. I + am not mad. Look at me. Judge for yourself. Look at me, and say, do I look + like a madwoman?” + </p> + <p> + The woman, thus appealed to, good-naturedly acquiesced, and looked at Lady + Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “'Deed,” she remarked, “ye look as though ye've had a deal of sufferin' + afore ye came here, an' I don't wonder yer mind give way.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like a madwoman?” repeated Lady Dudleigh, with a sense of + intolerable irritation at this woman's stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “'Deed, then, an' I'm no judge. It's the doctor that decides.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you say? Come, now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, ye don't look very bad, exceptin' the glare an' glitter of + the eyes of ye, an' yer fancies.” + </p> + <p> + “Fanciest? What fancies?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yer fancies that ye're Lady Dudleigh, an' all that about Sir + Lionel.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh started to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed. “Why, I am Lady Dudleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “There, there!” said the woman, soothingly; “sure I forgot myself. Sure ye + are Lady Dudleigh, or any body else ye like. It's a dreadful inveiglin' + way ye have to trap a body the way ye do.” + </p> + <p> + At this Lady Dudleigh was in despair. No further words were of any avail. + The woman was determined to humor her, and assented to every thing she + said. This treatment was so intolerable that Lady Dudleigh was afraid to + say any thing for fear that she would show the excitement of her feelings, + and such an exhibition would of course have been considered as a fresh + proof of her madness. + </p> + <p> + The woman at length completed her task, and retired. + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudleigh was left alone. She knew it all now. She remembered the + letter which Sir Lionel had written. In that he had no doubt arranged this + plan with Dr. Morton, and the coach had been ready at the station. But in + what part of the country this place was she had no idea, nor could she + know whether Dr. Morton was deceived by Sir Lionel, or was his paid + employé in this work of villainy. His face did not give her any + encouragement to hope for either honesty or mercy from him. + </p> + <p> + It was an appalling situation, and she knew it. All the horrors that she + had ever heard of in connection with private asylums occurred to her mind, + and deepened the terror that surrounded her. All the other cares of her + life—the sorrow of bereavement, the anxiety for the sick, the plans + for Frederick Dalton—all these and many others now oppressed her + till her brain sank under the crushing weight. A groan of anguish burst + from her. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lionel's mockery will become a reality,” she thought. “I shall go + mad!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Sir Lionel had gone away. Leaving Lady Dudleigh in the room, he + had gone down stairs, and after a few hurried words with the doctor, he + left the house and entered the coach, which drove back to the station. + </p> + <p> + All the way he was in the utmost glee, rubbing his hands, slapping his + thighs, chuckling to himself, laughing and cheering. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!” he laughed. “Outwitted! The keeper—the + keeper caught! Ha, ha, ha! Why, she'll never get out—never! In for + life, Lionel, my boy! Mad! Why, by this time she's a raving maniac! Ha, + ha, ha! She swear against me! Who'd believe a madwoman, an idiot, a + lunatic, a bedlamite, a maniac—a howling, frenzied, gibbering, + ranting, raving, driveling, maundering, mooning maniac! And now for the + boy next—the parricide! Ha, ha, ha! Arrest him! No. Shut him up here—both—with + my friend Morton—both of them, mother and son, the two—ha, ha, + ha!—witnesses! One maniac! two maniacs! and then I shall go mad with + joy, and come here to live, and there shall be <i>three maniacs</i>! Ha, + ha, ha! ha, ha, ha-a-a-a-a-a-a!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel himself seemed mad now. + </p> + <p> + On leaving the coach, however, he became calmer, and taking the first + train that came up, resumed his journey. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. — THE BEDSIDE OF DALTON. + </h2> + <p> + Frederick Dalton remained in his prostrate condition, with no apparent + change either for the better or for the worse, and thus a month passed. + </p> + <p> + One morning Dudleigh requested an interview with Edith. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room he greeted her with his usual deep respect. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THEIR HANDS TOUCHED."} + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will excuse me for troubling you, Miss Dalton,” he said, “but + I wish very much to ask your opinion about your father. He remains, as you + know, unchanged, and this inn is not the place for him. The air is close, + the place is noisy, and it is impossible for him to have that perfect + quiet which he so greatly needs. Dudleigh Manor is too far away, but there + is another place close by. I am aware, Miss Dalton, that Dalton Hall must + be odious to you, and therefore I hesitate to ask you to take your father + to that place. Yet he ought to go there, and at once. As for yourself, I + hope that the new circumstances under which you will live there will make + it less unpleasant; and, let me add, for my own part, it shall be my + effort to see that you, who have been so deeply wronged, shall be righted—with + all and before all. As to myself,” he continued, “I would retire, and + relieve you of my presence, which can not be otherwise than painful, but + there are two reasons why I ought to remain. The first is your father. You + yourself are not able to take all the care of him, and there is no other + who can share it except myself. Next to yourself, no one can be to him + what I am, nor is there any one with whom I would be willing to leave him. + He must not be left to a servant. He must be nursed by those who love him. + And so I must stay with him wherever he is. In addition to this, however, + my presence at Dalton Hall will effectually quell the vulgar clamor, and + all the rumors that have been prevailing for the last few months will be + silenced.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh spoke all this calmly and seriously, but beneath his words there + was something in his tone which conveyed a deeper meaning. That tone was + more than respectful—it was almost reverential—as though the + one to whom he spoke required from him more than mere courtesy. In spite + of his outward calm, there was also an emotion in his voice which showed + that the calm was assumed, and that beneath it lay something which could + not be all concealed. In his eyes, as he fixed them on Edith, there was + that same reverential regard, which seemed to speak of devotion and + loyalty; something stronger than admiration, something deeper than + sympathy, was expressed from them. And yet it was this that he himself + tried to conceal. It was as though this feeling of his burst forth + irrepressibly through all concealment, as though the intensity of this + feeling made even his calmest words and commonest formulas fall of a new + and deeper meaning. + </p> + <p> + In that reverence and profound devotion thus manifest there was nothing + which could be otherwise than grateful to Edith. Certainly she could not + take offense, for his words and his looks afforded nothing which could by + any possibility give rise to that. + </p> + <p> + For a whole month this man had been before her, a constant attendant on + her father, sleeping his few hours in an adjoining chamber, with scarce a + thought beyond that prostrate friend. All the country had been searched + for the best advice or the best remedies, and nothing had been omitted + which untiring affection could suggest. During all this time she had + scarce seen him. In the delicacy of his regard for her he had studiously + kept out of her way, as though unwilling to allow his presence to give her + pain. A moment might occasionally be taken up with a few necessary + arrangements as she would enter, but that was all. He patiently waited + till she retired before he ventured to come in himself. + </p> + <p> + No; in that noble face, pale from illness or from sadness, with the traces + of sorrow upon it, and the marks of long vigils by the bedside of her + father—in that refined face, whose expression spoke only of + elevation of soul, and exhibited the perfect type of manly beauty, there + was certainly nothing that could excite repugnance, but every thing that + might inspire confidence. + </p> + <p> + Edith saw all this, and remarked it while listening to him; and she + thought she had never seen any thing so pure in its loyalty, so profound + in its sympathy, and so sweet in its sad grace as that face which was now + turned toward her with its eloquent eyes. + </p> + <p> + She did not say much. A few words signified her assent to the proposal. + Dudleigh said that he would make all the necessary arrangements, and that + she should have no trouble whatever. With this he took his departure. + </p> + <p> + That same evening another visitor came. It was a pale, slender girl, who + gave her name as Lucy Ford. She said that she had been sent by Captain + Dudleigh. She heard that Edith had no maid, and wished to get that + situation. Edith hesitated for a moment. Could she accept so direct a + favor from Dudleigh, or give him that mark of confidence? Her hesitation + was over at once. She could give him that, and she accepted the maid. The + next day came a housekeeper and two or three others, all sent by Dudleigh, + all of whom were accepted by her. For Dudleigh had found out somehow the + need of servants at Dalton Hall, and had taken this way of supplying that + prime requisite. + </p> + <p> + It then remained to move Dalton. He still continued in the same condition, + not much changed physically, but in a state of mental torpor, the duration + of which no one was able to foretell. Two short stages were required to + take him to Dalton Hall. For this a litter was procured, and he was + carried all the way. Edith went, with her maid and housekeeper, in a + carriage, Dudleigh on horseback, and the other servants, with the luggage, + in various conveyances. + </p> + <p> + Dalton received no benefit from his journey, but his friends were happy + enough that he had received no injury. The medical attendance at Dalton + Hall was, as before, the best that could be obtained, and all the care + that affection could suggest was lavished upon him. + </p> + <p> + From what has already been said, it will be seen that in making this + migration to Dalton Hall, Dudleigh was regardful of many things besides + the patient. He had made every arrangement for the comfort of the + occupants. He had sought out all the domestics that were necessary to + diffuse an air of home over such a large establishment, and had been + careful to submit them to Edith for her approval. He had also procured + horses and grooms and carriages, and every thing that might conduce to the + comfort of life. The old solitude and loneliness were thus terminated. The + new housekeeper prevented Edith from feeling any anxiety about domestic + concerns, and the servants all showed themselves well trained and + perfectly subordinate. + </p> + <p> + Dalton's room was at the west end of the building. Edith occupied her old + apartments. Dudleigh took that which had belonged to his “double.” The + housekeeper took the room that had been occupied by Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh was as devoted as ever to the sick man. He remained at his + bedside through the greater part of the nights and through the mornings. + In the afternoons he retired as before, and gave place to Edith. When he + was there he sometimes had a servant upon whom he could rely, and then, if + he felt unusual fatigue, and circumstances were favorable, he was able to + snatch a little sleep. He usually went to bed at two in the afternoon, + rose at seven, and in that brief sleep, with occasional naps during the + morning, obtained enough to last him for the day. With this rest he was + satisfied, and needed, or at least sought for, no recreation. During the + hours of the morning he was able to attend to those outside duties that + required overseeing or direction. + </p> + <p> + But while he watched in this way over the invalid, he was not a mere + watcher. That invalid required, after all, but little at the hands of his + nurses, and Dudleigh had much to do. + </p> + <p> + On his arrival at Dalton Hall he had possessed himself of all the papers + that his “double” had left behind him, and these he diligently studied, so + as to be able to carry out with the utmost efficiency the purpose that he + had in his mind. It was during the long watches of the night that he + studied these papers, trying to make out from them the manner of life and + the associates of the one who had left them, trying also to arrive at some + clew to his mysterious disappearance. This study he could keep up without + detriment to his office of attendant, and while watching over the invalid + he could carry out his investigations. Sometimes, in the afternoons, after + indulging in more frequent naps than usual during the mornings, he was + able to go out for a ride about the grounds. He was a first-rate horseman, + and Edith noticed his admirable seat as she looked from the windows of her + father's room. + </p> + <p> + Thus time went on. + </p> + <p> + Gradually Dudleigh and Edith began to occupy a different position toward + one another. At the inn their relations were as has been shown. But after + their arrival at Dalton Hall there occurred a gradual change. + </p> + <p> + As Edith came to the room on the first day, Dudleigh waited. On entering + she saw his eyes fixed on her with an expression of painful suspense, of + earnest, eager inquiry. In that eloquent appealing glance all his soul + seemed to beam from his eyes. It was reverent, it was almost humble, yet + it looked for some small concession. May I hope? it said. Will you give a + thought to me? See, I stand here, and I hang upon your look. Will you turn + away from me? + </p> + <p> + Edith did not repel that mute appeal. There was that in her face which + broke down Dudleigh's reserve. He advanced toward her and held out his + hand. She did not reject it. + </p> + <p> + It was but a commonplace thing to do—it was what might have been + done before—yet between these two it was far from common-place. + Their hands touched, their eyes met, but neither spoke a word. It was but + a light grasp that Dudleigh gave. Reverentially, yet tenderly, he took + that hand, not venturing to go beyond what might be accorded to the merest + stranger, but contenting himself with that one concession. With that he + retired, carrying with him the remembrance of that nearer approach, and + the hope of what yet might be. + </p> + <p> + After that the extreme reserve was broken down. Each day, on meeting, a + shake of the hands was accompanied by something more. Between any others + these greetings would have been the most natural thing in the world; but + here it was different. There was one subject in which each took the + deepest interest, and about which each had something to say. Frederick + Dalton's health was precious to each, and each felt anxiety about his + condition. This formed a theme about which they might speak. + </p> + <p> + As Dudleigh waited for Edith, so Edith waited for Dudleigh; and still + there were the same questions to be asked and answered. Standing thus + together in that sick-room, with one life forming a common bond between + them, conversing in low whispers upon one so dear to both, it would have + been strange indeed if any thing like want of confidence had remained on + either side. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. — A BETTER UNDERSTANDING. + </h2> + <p> + Dudleigh lived on as before, assiduous in his attendance, dividing his + time chiefly between nursing and study of the papers already mentioned. He + never went out of the grounds on those occasional rides, and if any one in + the neighborhood noticed this, the recent sad events might have been + considered an excuse. Thus these two were thrown upon one another + exclusively. For each there was no other society. As for Edith, Dudleigh + had done so much that she felt a natural gratitude; and more than this, + there was in her mind a sense of security and of dependence. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Dudleigh's pale face grew paler. His sleep had all along been + utterly inadequate, and the incessant confinement had begun to show its + effects. He had been accustomed to an open-air life and vigorous exercise. + This quiet watching at the bedside of Dalton was more trying to his + strength than severe labor could have been. + </p> + <p> + The change in him was not lost on Edith, and even if gratitude toward him + had been wanting, common humanity would have impelled her to speak about + it. + </p> + <p> + One day, as she came in, she was struck by his appearance. His face was + ghastly white, and he had been sitting with his head in his hands as she + softly entered. In an instant, as he heard her step, he started up, and + advanced with a radiant smile, a smile caused by her approach. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that you are overtasking yourself,” said Edith, gently, after + the usual greeting. “You are here too much. The confinement is too trying. + You must take more rest and exercise.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh's face was suffused with a sudden glow of delight. + </p> + <p> + “It is kind of you to notice it,” said he, earnestly, “but I'm sure you + are mistaken. I could do far more if necessary. This is my place, and this + is my truest occupation.” + </p> + <p> + “For that very reason,” said Edith, in tones that showed more concern than + she would have cared to acknowledge—“for that very reason you ought + to preserve yourself—for his sake. You confine yourself here too + much, and take too little rest. I see that you feel it already.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said Dudleigh, with a light laugh, whose musical cadence sounded very + sweet to Edith, and revealed to her another side of his character very + different from that sad and melancholy one which he had thus far shown—“I? + Why, you have no idea of my capacity for this sort of thing. Excuse me, + Miss Dalton, but it seems absurd to talk of my breaking down under such + work as this.” + </p> + <p> + Edith shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “You show traces of it,” said she, in a gentle voice, looking away from + him, “which common humanity would compel me to notice. You must not do all + the work; I must have part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You?</i>” exclaimed Dudleigh, with infinite tenderness in his tone. + “Do you think that I would allow <i>you</i> to spend any more time here + than you now do, or that I would spare myself at the expense of <i>your</i> + health? Never! Aside from the fact that your father is so dear to me, + there are considerations for you which would lead me to die at my post + rather than allow you to have any more trouble.” + </p> + <p> + There was a fervor in Dudleigh's tones which penetrated to Edith's heart. + There was a deep glow in his eyes as he looked at her which Edith did not + care to encounter. + </p> + <p> + “You are of far more importance to Sir Lionel than I am,” said she, after + a pause which began to be embarrassing. “But what will become of him if—if + you are prostrated?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be prostrated,” said Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + “I think you will if this state of things continues.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't think there is any prospect of my giving up just yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I know your affection for him, and that it would keep you here until—until + you could not stay any longer; and it is this which I wish to avoid.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty,” said Dudleigh. “He is one whom I revere more than any + other man, and love as a father. Besides, there are other things that bind + me to him—his immeasurable wrongs, his matchless patience—wrongs + inflicted by one who is my father; and I, as the son, feel it a holy duty, + the holiest of all duties, to stand by that bedside and devote myself to + him. He is your father, Miss Dalton, but you have never known him as I + have known him—the soul of honor, the stainless gentleman, the ideal + of chivalry and loyalty and truth. This he is, and for this he lies there, + and my wretched father it is who has done this deed. But that father is a + father only in name, and I have long ago transferred a son's love and a + son's duty to that gentle and noble and injured friend.” + </p> + <p> + This outburst of feeling came forth from Dudleigh's inmost heart, and was + spoken with a passionate fervor which showed how deeply he felt what he + said. Every word thrilled through Edith. Bitter self-reproach at that + moment came to her, as she thought of her own relations to her father. + What Dudleigh's had been she did not know, but she saw that in him her + father had found a son. And what had his daughter been to him? Of that she + dared not think. Her heart was wrung with sharp anguish at the memories of + the past, while at the same time she felt drawn more closely to Dudleigh, + who had thus been to him all that she had failed to be. Had she spoken + what she thought, she would have thanked and blessed him for those words. + But she did not dare to trust herself to speak of that; rather she tried + to restrain herself; and when she spoke, it was with a strong effort at + this self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, in a voice which was tremulous in spite of all her + efforts, “this shows how dear you must be to him, since he has found such + love in you, and so for his sake you must spare yourself. You must not + stay here so constantly.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is there to take my place?” asked Dudleigh, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I,” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” said he, “that I would allow that? Even if I needed more + rest, which I do not, do you think that I would take it at your expense—that + I would go away, enjoy myself, and leave you to bear the fatigue? No, Miss + Dalton; I am not quite so selfish as that.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will let me stay here more than I do,” said Edith, earnestly. “I + may as well be here as in my own room. Will you not let me have half the + care, and occasionally allow you to take rest?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke timidly and anxiously, as though she was asking some favor. And + this was the feeling that she had, for it seemed to her that this man, who + had been a son to her father, had more claims on his love, and a truer + right here, than she, the unworthy daughter. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh smiled upon her with infinite tenderness as he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Half the care! How could you endure it? You are too delicate for so much. + You do too much already, and I am only anxious to relieve you of that. I + was going to urge you to give up half of the afternoon, and take it + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Give up half the afternoon!” cried Edith. “Why, I want to do more.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is impossible. You are not strong enough,” said Dudleigh. “I + fear all the time that you are now overworking yourself. I would never + forgive myself if you received any harm from this.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am very much stronger than you suppose. Besides, nursing is woman's + work, and would fatigue me far less than you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can not bear to have you fatigue yourself in any way. You must not—and + I would do far more rather than allow you to have any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “But even if my health should suffer, it would not be of much consequence. + So at least let me relieve you of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Your health?” said Dudleigh, looking at her with an earnest glance; “your + health? Why, that is every thing. Mine is nothing. Can you suggest such a + thing to me as that I should allow any trouble to come to you? Besides, + your delicate health already alarms me. You have not yet recovered from + your illness. You are not capable of enduring fatigue, and I am always + reproaching myself for allowing you to stay here as much as you do. The + Dudleighs have done enough. They have brought the father to this;” and he + pointed mournfully to the bed. “But,” he added, in a tremulous voice, “the + daughter should at least be saved, and to have harm come to her would be + worse than death itself—to me.” + </p> + <p> + Edith was silent for a few moments. Her heart was beating fast. When she + spoke, it was with an effort, and in as calm a voice as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, “I am quite recovered. Indeed, I am as well as ever, and I + wish to spend more time here. Will you not let me stay here longer?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I? The confinement would wear you out.” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be more fatiguing than staying in my own room,” persisted + Edith. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there would be very much difference,” said Dudleigh. “In your + own room you have no particular anxiety, but here you would have the + incessant responsibility of a nurse. You would have to watch your father, + and every movement would give you concern.” + </p> + <p> + “And this harassing care is what I wish to save you from, and share with + you,” said Edith, earnestly. “Will you not consent to this?” + </p> + <p> + “To share it with you?” said Dudleigh looking at her with unutterable + tenderness. “To share it with you?” he repeated. “It would be only too + much happiness for me to do so, but not if you are going to overwork + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will not,” said Edith. “If I do, I can stop. I only ask to be + allowed to come in during the morning, so as to relieve you of some of + your work. You will consent, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + Edith asked him this as though Dudleigh had exclusive right here, and she + had none. She could not help feeling as if this was so, and this feeling + arose from those memories which she had of that terrible past, when she + ignorantly hurled at that father's heart words that stung like the stings + of scorpions. Never could she forgive herself for that, and for this she + now humbled herself in this way. Her tone was so pleading that Dudleigh + could refuse no longer. With many deprecatory expressions, and many + warnings and charges, he at last consented to let her divide the morning + attendance with him. She was to come in at eleven o'clock. + </p> + <p> + This arrangement was at once acted upon. On the following day Edith came + to her father's room at eleven. Dudleigh had much to ask her, and much to + say to her, about her father's condition. He was afraid that she was not + strong enough. He seemed to half repent his agreement. On the other hand, + Edith assured him most earnestly that she was strong enough, that she + would come here for the future regularly at eleven o'clock, and urged him + to take care of his own health, and seek some recreation by riding about + the grounds. This Dudleigh promised to do in the afternoon, but just then + he seemed in no hurry to go. He lingered on. They talked in low whispers, + with their heads close together. They had much to talk about; her health, + his health, her father's condition—all these had to be discussed. + Thus it was that the last vestiges of mutual reserve began to be broken + down. + </p> + <p> + Day succeeded to day, and Edith always came to her father's room in the + morning. At first she always urged Dudleigh to go off and take exercise, + but at length she ceased to urge him. For two or three hours every day + they saw much of one another, and thus associated under circumstances + which enforced the closest intimacy and the strongest mutual sympathy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. — CAPTAIN CRUIKSHANK. + </h2> + <p> + While these things were going on, the world outside was not altogether + indifferent to affairs in Dalton Hall. In the village and in the immediate + neighborhood rumor had been busy, and at length the vague statements of + the public voice began to take shape. + </p> + <p> + This is what rumor said: Dudleigh is an impostor! + </p> + <p> + An impostor, it said. For the true Dudleigh, it asserted, was still + missing. This was not the real man. The remains found in the well had + never been accounted for. Justice had foregone its claims too readily. The + act remained, and the blood of the slain called aloud for vengeance. + </p> + <p> + How such a strange report was first started no one knew; but there it was, + and the Dalton mystery remained as obscure as ever. + </p> + <p> + Various circumstances contributed to increase the public suspicion. All + men saw that Dudleigh was different from this man, or else he had greatly + changed. For the former was always outside, in the world, while this man + remained secluded and shut up in the Hall. Why did he never show himself? + Why did he surround himself with all this secrecy? This was the question. + </p> + <p> + The servants were eagerly questioned whenever any of them made their + appearance in the village, but as they were all new in the place, their + testimony was of little value. They could only say that he was devoted to + the invalid, and that he called Miss Dalton by that name, and had called + her by that name when he engaged them for her service. + </p> + <p> + Soon public opinion took two different forms, and two parties arose. One + of these believed the present Dudleigh to be an impostor; the other, + however, maintained that he was the real man, and that the change in his + character was to be accounted for on the grounds of the terrible + calamities that had resulted from his thoughtlessness, together with his + own repentance for the suffering which he had inflicted. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the subject of all this excitement and gossip was living in his + own seclusion, quite apart from the outside world. One change, however, + had taken place in his life which required immediate action on his part. + </p> + <p> + A great number of letters had come for “Captain Dudleigh.” The receipt of + these gave him trouble. They were reminders of various pecuniary + obligations which had been contracted some time previously. They were, in + short—duns. He had been at Dalton Hall some six weeks before these + interesting letters began to arrive. After that time they came in + clusters, fast and frequent. The examination of these formed no small part + of his occupation when he was alone. + </p> + <p> + Some of these letters were jocular in their tone, reminding him of his + chronic impecuniosity, and his well-known impracticability in every thing + relating to money. These jocular letters, however, never failed to remind + him that, as he had made a rich match, there was no reason why he should + not pay his debts, especially as the writers were hard up, and had waited + so long without troubling him. These jocular letters, in fact, informed + him that if a settlement was not made at once, it would be very much the + worse for Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + Others were from old sporting companions, reminding him of bets which had + not been paid, expressing astonishment which was child-like in its + simplicity, and requesting an immediate settlement. These were generally + short, curt, and altogether unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + Others were business letters, containing the announcement of notes falling + due. Others were from lawyers, stating the fact that certain specified + claims had been put in their hands for collection, and requesting early + attention. + </p> + <p> + All these seemed to come together. Misfortunes, says the proverb, never + come singly, and duns may fairly be reckoned among misfortunes. These + duns, however, troublesome though they were, were one by one got rid of by + the simple and effectual process of payment; for Dudleigh considered it on + the whole safer and better, under these peculiar circumstances, to pay the + money which was demanded than to expose himself to arrest or lawsuits. + </p> + <p> + In connection with these affairs an event occurred which at the time + caused uneasiness, and gave the prospect of future trouble. One day a + gentleman called and sent up his card. It was Captain Cruikshank. The name + Dudleigh recognized as one which had been appended to several dunning + letters of the most importunate kind, and the individual himself was + apparently some sporting friend. + </p> + <p> + On going down Dudleigh saw a portly, bald-headed man, with large whiskers, + standing in front of one of the drawing-room windows, looking out. He + seemed midway between a gentleman and a blackleg, being neither altogether + one nor the other. At the noise of Dudleigh's entrance he turned quickly + around, and with a hearty, bluff manner walked up to him and held out his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh fixed his eyes steadily upon those of the other man, and bowed, + without accepting the proffered hand, appearing not to see it. His whole + mien was full of aristocratic reserve, and cold, repellent distance of + manner, which checked the other in the midst of a full tide of voluble + congratulations into which he had flung himself. Thus interrupted, he + looked confused, stammered, and finally said, + </p> + <p> + “'Pon my honor, Dudleigh, you don't appear to be overcordial with an old + friend, that's seen you through so many scrapes as I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances,” said Dudleigh, “of a very painful character have forced + me to sever myself completely from all my former associates—all, + without exception.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course—as to that, it's all right, I dare say,” remarked + the other, from whom Dudleigh never removed his eyes; “but then, you know, + it seems to me that some friends ought to be—a—retained, you + know, and you and I, you know, were always of that sort that we were + useful to one another.” + </p> + <p> + This was thrown out as a very strong hint on the part of Captain + Cruikshank, and he watched Dudleigh earnestly to see its effect. + </p> + <p> + “I make no exceptions whatever,” said Dudleigh. “What has occurred to me + is the same as death. I am dead virtually to the world in which I once + lived. My former friends and acquaintances are the same as though I had + never known them.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “WELL, REALLY—YES, THIS IS IT."} + </p> + <p> + “Gad! something has come over you, that's a fact,” said Captain + Cruikshank. “You're a changed man, whatever the reason is. Well, you have + a right to choose for yourself, and I can't be offended. At the same time, + if you ever want to join the old set again, let me know, and I promise you + there'll be no difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh bowed. + </p> + <p> + “But then I suppose you're settled down in such infernally comfortable + quarters,” continued the other, “that it's not likely you'll ever trouble + us again. Married and done for—that's the word. Plenty of money, and + nothing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have anything particular to say,” said Dudleigh, coldly, “I should + like to hear it; if not, I must excuse myself, as I am particularly + engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no offense, no offense; I merely came to offer an old friend's + congratulations, you know, and—By-the-way,” continued Cruikshank, + lowering his voice, “there's that little I O U of yours. I thought perhaps + you might find it convenient to settle, and if so, it would be a great + favor to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the amount?” asked Dudleigh, who remembered this particular debt + perfectly well, since it had been the subject of more than one letter of a + most unpleasant character. + </p> + <p> + “The amount?” said Cruikshank. “Well, really—let me see—I + don't quite remember, but I'll find out in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he drew forth his pocket-book and fumbled among the + papers. At length he produced one, and tried hard to look as if he had not + known all along perfectly well what that amount was. + </p> + <p> + “Well, really—yes, this is it,” he remarked, as he looked at a piece + of paper. “The amount, did you say? The amount is just two hundred pounds. + It's not much for you, as you are now situated, I should suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the note?” asked Dudleigh, who was anxious to get rid of this + visitor, and suspected all along that he might have a deeper purpose than + the mere collection of a debt. + </p> + <p> + “That is the note,” said Cruikshank. + </p> + <p> + “I will pay it now,” said Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + He left the room for a short time, and during his absence Cruikshank + amused himself with staring at the portrait of “Captain Dudleigh,” which + hung in a conspicuous position before his eyes. He was not kept long + waiting, for Dudleigh soon returned, and handed him the money. Cruikshank + took it with immense satisfaction, and handed the note over in return, + which Dudleigh carefully transferred to his own pocket-book, where he kept + many other such papers. + </p> + <p> + Cruikshank now bade him a very effusive adieu. Dudleigh stood at the + window watching the retreating figure of his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how long this sort of thing can go on?” he murmured. “I don't + like this acting on the defensive. I'll have to make the attack myself + soon.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. — EDITH'S NEW FRIEND. + </h2> + <p> + Every day Edith and Dudleigh saw more and more of one another. Now that + the crust of reserve was broken through, and something like intimacy had + been reached, the sick man's apartment was the most natural place for each + to seek. It came at last that the mornings and afternoons were no longer + allotted to each exclusively, but while one watched, the other would often + be present. In the evenings especially the two were together there. + </p> + <p> + The condition in which Dalton was demanded quiet, yet needed but little + direct attention. It was only necessary that some one should be in the + room with him. He lay, as has been said, in a state of stupor, and knew + nothing of what was going on. It was only necessary for those who might be + with him to give him, from time to time, the medicines that had been + prescribed by the physicians, or the nourishment which nature demanded. + Apart from this there was little now to be done. + </p> + <p> + While Edith and Dudleigh were thus together, they were naturally dependent + exclusively upon one another. This association seemed not unpleasant to + either of them; every day it gained a new charm; and at length both came + to look forward to this as the chief pleasure of their lives. For Edith + there was no other companion than Dudleigh in Dalton Hall with whom she + could associate on equal terms; he had strong claims now on her + confidence, and even on her gratitude; and while he was thus the only one + to whom she could look for companionship, she also bore the same relation + to him. + </p> + <p> + There was something in the look and in the manner of Dudleigh in these + interviews which might have moved a colder nature than that of Edith. + Whenever he entered and greeted her, his face was overspread by a radiant + expression that spoke of joy and delight. Whenever they met, his face told + all the feelings of his heart. Yet never in any way, either by word or + act, did he venture upon any thing which might not have been witnessed by + all the world. There was something touching in that deep joy of his which + was inspired simply by her presence, and in the peace and calm that came + over him while she was near. Elsewhere it was different with him. Whenever + she had seen his face outside—and that had been often, for she had + often seen him riding or walking in front of the windows—she had + marked how care-worn and sad its expression was; she had marked a cloud of + melancholy upon his brow, that bore witness to some settled grief unknown + to her, and had read in all the lineaments of his features the record + which some mysterious sorrow had traced there. Yet in her presence all + this departed, and the eyes that looked on her grew bright with happiness, + and the face that was turned toward her was overspread with joy. Could it + be any other than herself who made this change? + </p> + <p> + There was something in the manner of this man toward her which was nothing + less than adoration. The delicate grace of his address, the deep reverence + of his look, the intonations of his voice, tremulous with an emotion that + arose from the profoundest depths of his nature, all bore witness to this. + For when he spoke to her, even about the most trifling things, there was + that in his tone which showed that the subject upon which he was speaking + was nothing, but the one to whom he was speaking was all in all. He stood + before her like one with a fervid nature, intense in its passion, and + profound in all its emotion, who under a calm exterior concealed a glow of + feeling which burned in his heart like a consuming fire—a feeling + that was kept under restraint by the force of will, but which, if freed + from restraint but for one moment, would burst forth and bear down all + before it. + </p> + <p> + Weeks passed away, but amidst all the intimacy of their association there + never appeared the slightest attempt on his part to pass beyond the limits + which he had set for himself. Another man under such circumstances might + have ventured upon something like a greater familiarity, but with this man + there was no such attempt. After all their interviews he still stood in + spirit at a distance, with the same deep reverence in his look, and the + same profound adoration in his manner, regarding her as one might regard a + divinity. For Dudleigh stood afar off, yet like a worshiper—far off, + as though he deemed that divinity of his inaccessible—yet none the + less did his devotion make itself manifest. All this was not to be seen in + his words, but rather in his manner, in the expression of his face, and in + the attitude of his soul, as it became manifest to her whom he adored. + </p> + <p> + For she could not but see it; in matters of this sort woman's eyes are + keen; but here any one might have perceived the deep devotion of Dudleigh. + The servants saw it, and talked about it. What was plain to them could not + but be visible to her. She saw it—she knew it—and what then? + Certainly it was not displeasing. The homage thus paid was too delicate to + give offense; it was of that kind which is most flattering to the heart, + which never grows familiar, but is insinuated or suggested rather than + expressed. + </p> + <p> + It was consoling to her lonely heart to see one like this, who, whenever + she appeared, would pass from a state of sadness to one of happiness; to + see his eloquent eyes fixed upon her with a devotion beyond words; to hear + his voice, which, while it spoke the commonplaces of welcome, was yet in + its tremulous tones expressive of a meaning very different from that which + lay in the words. Naturally enough, she was touched by this silent + reverence which she thus inspired; and as she had already found cause to + trust him, so she soon came to trust him still more. She looked up to him + as one with whom she might confer, not only with reference to her father, + but also with regard to the conduct of the estate. Thus many varied + subjects grew up for their consideration, and gradually the things about + which they conversed grew more and more personal. Beginning with Mr. + Dalton, they at last ended with themselves, and Dudleigh on many occasions + found opportunity of advising Edith on matters where her own personal + interest or welfare was concerned. + </p> + <p> + Thus their intimacy deepened constantly from the very necessities of their + position. + </p> + <p> + Then there was the constant anxiety which each felt and expressed about + the health of the other. Each had urged the other to give up the allotted + portion of attendance. This had ended in both of them keeping up that + attendance together for a great part of the time. Nevertheless, the + subject of one another's health still remained. Dudleigh insisted that + Edith had not yet recovered, that she was nothing better than a + convalescent, and that she ought not to risk such close confinement. + Edith, on the contrary, insisted that she was able to do far more, and + that the confinement was injuring him far more than herself. On one + occasion she asked him what he thought would become of her if he too + became ill, and the care of the two should thus devolve upon her. + </p> + <p> + At this remark, which escaped Edith in the excitement of an argument about + the interesting subject of one another's health, Dudleigh's face lighted + up. He looked at her with an expression that spoke more than words could + tell. Yet he said nothing. He said nothing in words, but his eyes spoke an + intelligible language, and she could well understand what was thus + expressed. + </p> + <p> + What was it that they said? + </p> + <p> + O loved! and O adored beyond weak words! O divinity of mine! they said. If + death should be the end of this, then such death would be sweet, if I + could but die in your presence! O loved and longed for! they said. Between + us there is an impassable barrier. I stand without; I seek not to break + through; but even at a distance I love, and I adore! + </p> + <p> + And that was what Edith understood. Her eyes sank before his gaze. They + sat in silence for a long time, and neither of them ventured to break that + silence by words. + </p> + <p> + At length Dudleigh proposed that they should both go out for a short time + each day together. This he had hesitated to do on account of Mr. Dalton. + Yet, after all, there was no necessity for them to be there always. Mr. + Dalton, in his stupor, was unconscious of their presence, and their + absence could therefore make no difference to him, either with regard to + his feelings or the attention which he received. When Dudleigh made his + proposal, he mentioned this also, and Edith saw at once its truth. She + therefore consented quite readily, and with a gratification that she made + no attempt to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Why should she not? She had known enough of sorrow. Dalton Hall had thus + far been to her nothing else than a prison-house. Why should it not afford + her some pleasure as an offset to former pain? Here was an opportunity of + obtaining at last some compensation. She could go forth into the bright + free open air under the protection of one whose loyalty and devotion had + been sufficiently proved. Could she hope for any pleasanter companion? + </p> + <p> + Thus a new turn took place in the lives of these two. The mornings they + passed in Mr. Dalton's room, and in the afternoons, except when there was + unpleasant weather, they went out together. Sometimes they strolled + through the grounds, down the lordly avenues, and over the soft sweet + meadows; at other times they went on horseback. The grounds were extensive + and beautiful, but confinement within the park inclosure was attended with + unpleasant memories, and so, in the ordinary course of things, they + naturally sought the wider, freer world outside. + </p> + <p> + The country around Dalton Hall was exceedingly beautiful, and rich in all + those peculiar English charms whose quiet grace is so attractive to the + refined taste. Edith had never enjoyed any opportunity of seeing all this, + and now it opened before her like a new world. Formerly, during her long + imprisonment, she had learned to think of that outside world as one which + was full of every thing that was most delightful; there freedom dwelt; and + that thought was enough to make it fair and sweet to her. So the prisoner + always thinks of that which lies beyond his prison walls, and imagines + that if he were once in that outer world he would be in the possession of + perfect happiness. + </p> + <p> + Horseback riding has advantages which make it superior to every other kind + of exercise. On foot one is limited and restrained, for progress is slow; + and although one can go any where, yet the pedestrian who wishes for + enjoyment must only stroll. Any thing else is too fatiguing. But a small + space can be traversed, and that only with considerable fatigue. In a + carriage there is ease and comfort; but the high-road forms the limit of + one's survey; to that he must keep, and not venture out of the smooth + beaten track. But on horseback all is different. There one has something + of the comfort of the carriage and something of the freedom of the + pedestrian. Added to this, there is an exhilaration in the motion itself + which neither of the others presents. The most rapid pace can alternate + with the slowest; the highway no longer forms bounds to the journey; + distance is no obstacle where enjoyment is concerned; and few places are + inaccessible which it is desirable to see. The generous animal which + carries his rider is himself an additional element of pleasure; for he + himself seems to sympathize with all his rider's feelings, and to such an + extent that even the solitary horseman is not altogether alone. + </p> + <p> + This was the pleasure which Edith was now able to enjoy with Dudleigh as + her companion, and the country was one which afforded the best opportunity + for such exercise. Dudleigh was, as has been said, a first-rate horseman, + and managed his steed like one who had been brought up from childhood to + that accomplishment. Edith also had always been fond of riding; at school + she had been distinguished above all the others for her skill and dash in + this respect; and there were few places where, if Dudleigh led, she would + not follow. + </p> + <p> + All the pleasure of this noble exercise was thus enjoyed by both of them + to the fullest extent. There was an exhilaration in it which each felt + equally. The excitement of the rapid gallop or the full run, the quiet + sociability of the slow walk, the perfect freedom of movement in almost + any direction, were all appreciated by one as much as by the other. Then, + too, the country itself was of that character which was best adapted to + give pleasure. There were broad public roads, hard, smooth, and shadowed + by overarching trees—roads such as are the glory of England, and + with which no other country has any that can compare. Then there were + by-roads leading from one public road to another, as smooth and as shadowy + as the others, but far more inviting, since they presented greater + seclusion and scenes of more quiet picturesque beauty. Here they + encountered pleasant lanes leading through peaceful sequestered valleys, + beside gently flowing streams and babbling brooks, where the trees + overarched most grandly and the shade was most refreshing. Here they loved + best to turn, and move slowly onward at a pace best suited to quiet + observation and agreeable conversation. + </p> + <p> + Such a change from the confinement of Dalton Hall and Dalton Park was + unspeakably delightful to Edith. She had no anxiety about leaving her + father, nor had Dudleigh; for in his condition the quiet housekeeper could + do all that he would require in their absence. To Edith this change was + more delightful than to Dudleigh, since she had Felt those horrors of + imprisonment which he had not. These rides through the wide country, so + free, so unrestrained, brought to her a delicious sense of liberty. For + the first time in many weary months she felt that she was her own + mistress. She was free, and she could enjoy with the most intense delight + all the new pleasures of this free and unrestrained existence. So in these + rides she was always joyous, always gay, and even enthusiastic. It was to + her like the dawn of a new life, and into that life she threw herself with + an abandonment of feeling that evinced itself in unrestrained enjoyment of + every thing that presented itself to her view. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh, however, was very different. In him there had always appeared a + certain restraint. His manner toward Edith had that devotion and respect + which have already been described; he was as profound and sincere in his + homage and as tender in his loyalty as ever; but even now, under these far + more favorable circumstances, he did not venture beyond the limits of + courtesy—those limits which society has established and always + recognizes. From the glance of his eyes, however, from the tone of his + voice, and from his whole mien, there could be seen the deep fervor of his + feelings toward Edith; but though the tones were often tremulous with deep + feeling, the words that he spoke seldom expressed more than the formulas + of politeness. His true meaning lay behind or beneath his words. His quiet + manner was therefore not the sign of an unemotional nature, but rather of + strong passion reined in and kept in check by a powerful will, the sign + and token of a nature which had complete mastery over itself, so that + never on any occasion could a lawless impulse burst forth. + </p> + <p> + These two were therefore not uncongenial—the one with her + enthusiasm, her perfect abandon of feeling, the other with his + self-command, his profound devotion. Their tastes were alike. By a common + impulse they sought the same woodland paths, or directed their course to + the same picturesque scenes; they admired the same beauties, or turned + away with equal indifference from the commonplace, the tame, or the + prosaic. The books which they liked were generally the same. No wonder + that the change was a pleasant one to Edith. These rides began to bring + back to her the fresh feeling of her buoyant school-girl days, and restore + to her that joyous spirit and that radiant fancy which had distinguished + her at Plympton Terrace. + </p> + <p> + Riding about thus every where, these two became conspicuous. The public + mind was more puzzled than ever. Those who maintained that Dudleigh was an + impostor felt their confidence greatly shaken, and could only murmur + something about its being done “for effect,” and “to throw dust into the + eyes of people;” while those who believed in him asserted their belief + more strongly than ever, and declared that the unhappy differences which + had existed between husband and wife had passed away, and terminated in a + perfect reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. — A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE. + </h2> + <p> + Thus Dudleigh and Edith found a new life opening before them; and though + this life was felt by both to be a temporary one, which must soon come to + an end, yet each seemed resolved upon enjoying it to the utmost while it + lasted. + </p> + <p> + On one of these rides a remarkable event occurred. + </p> + <p> + It chanced that Edith's horse dropped a shoe, and they went slowly to the + nearest village to have him reshod. They came to one before long, and + riding slowly through it, they reached the farthest end of it, and here + they found a smithy. + </p> + <p> + A small river ran at this end of the village across the road, and over + this there was a narrow bridge. The smithy was built close beside the + bridge on piles half over the edge of the stream. It faced the road, and, + standing in the open doorway, one could see up the entire length of the + village. + </p> + <p> + Here they dismounted, and found the farrier. Unfortunately the shoe had + been lost and the farrier had none, so that he had to make one for the + occasion. This took much time, and Edith and Dudleigh strolled up and down + the village, stood on the bridge and wandered about, frequently returning + to the smithy to see how the work was progressing. + </p> + <p> + The last time they came they found that the smith was nearly through his + work. They stood watching him as he was driving in one of the last nails, + feeling a kind of indolent curiosity in the work, when suddenly there + arose in the road behind them a frightful outburst of shrieks and cries. + The smith dropped the horse's foot and the hammer, and started up. + Dudleigh and Edith also turned by a quick movement to see what it might + be. + </p> + <p> + A terrible sight burst upon them. + </p> + <p> + As they looked up the village street, they saw coming straight toward them + a huge dog, which was being pursued by a large crowd of men. The animal's + head was bent low, his jaw dropped, and almost before they fairly + understood the meaning of what they saw, he had come close enough for them + to distinguish the foam that dropped from his jaws, and his wild, staring, + blood-shot eyes. In that moment they understood it. In that animal, which + thus rushed straight toward them, and was already so near, they saw one of + the most terrible sights that can appear to the eye of man—a mad + dog! + </p> + <p> + The smith gave a yell of horror, and sprang to a window that looked out of + the rear of the smithy into the stream. Through this he flung himself, and + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + On came the dog, his eyes glaring, his mouth foaming, distancing all his + pursuers, none of whom were near enough to deal a blow. They did not seem + particularly anxious to get nearer to him, to tell the truth, but + contented themselves with hurling stones at him, and shrieking and yelling + from a safe distance in his rear. + </p> + <p> + On came the dog. There was no time for escape. Quick as thought Dudleigh + flung himself before Edith. There was no time to seize any weapon. He had + to face the dog unarmed, in his own unassisted strength. As for Edith, she + stood paralyzed with utter horror. + </p> + <p> + On came the mad dog, and with a horrible snapping howl, sprang straight at + Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + But Dudleigh was prepared. As the dog sprang he hit straight out at him + “from the shoulder,” and dealt him a tremendous blow on the throat with + his clinched fist. The blow hurled the animal over and over till he fell + upon his back, and before he could regain his feet, Dudleigh sprang upon + him and seized him by the throat. + </p> + <p> + He was a large and powerful animal. He struggled fiercely in the grasp of + Dudleigh, and the struggle was a terrific one. The villagers, who had now + come up, stood off, staring in unspeakable horror, not one of them daring + to interfere. + </p> + <p> + But the terror which had at first frozen Edith into stone now gave way to + another feeling, a terror quite as strong, but which, instead of + congealing her into inaction, roused her to frenzied exertion. Dudleigh's + life was at stake! Terror for herself was paralysis to her limbs; terror + for him was the madness of desperate exertion and daring. + </p> + <p> + She sprang toward one of the by-standers, who had a knife in his hand. + This knife she snatched from him, and rushed toward Dudleigh. The dog was + still writhing in his furious straggles. Dudleigh was still holding him + down, and clutching at his throat with, death-like tenacity. For a moment + she paused, and then flinging herself upon her knees at the dog's head, + she plunged the knife with all her strength into the side of his neck. + </p> + <p> + It was a mortal wound! + </p> + <p> + With a last howl, the huge animal relaxed his efforts, and in a few + moments lay dead in the road. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh rose to his feet. There was in his face an expression of pain and + apprehension. The villagers stood aloof, staring at him with awful eyes. + No word of congratulation was spoken. The silence was ominous; it was + terrible. Edith was struck most of all by the expression of Dudleigh's + face, and read there what she dared not think of. For a moment the old + horror which had first seized upon her came upon her once more, paralyzing + her limbs. She looked at him with staring eyes as she knelt, and the + bloody knife dropped from her nerveless hands. But the horror passed, and + once more, as before, was succeeded by vehement action. She sprang to her + feet, and caught at his coat as he walked away. + </p> + <p> + He turned, with downcast eyes. + </p> + <p> + “O my God!” she exclaimed, in anguish, “you are wounded—you are + bitten—and by that—” She could not finish her sentence. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh gave her an awful look. + </p> + <p> + “You will die! you will die!” she almost screamed. “Oh, cannot something + be done? Let me look at your arm. Oh, let me examine it—let me see + where it is! Show me—tell me what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh had turned to enter the smithy as Edith had arrested him, and + now, standing there in the doorway, he gently disengaged himself from her + grasp. Then he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + Edith had already noticed that his coat sleeve was torn, and now, as he + took off his coat, she saw, with unutterable horror, his white shirt + sleeves red with spots of blood. As he rolled up that sleeve she saw the + marks of bruises on his arm; but it was on one place in particular that + her eyes were fastened—a place where a red wound, freshly made, + showed the source of the blood stains, and told at what a terrible price + he had rescued her from the fierce beast. He had conquered, but not + easily, for he had carried off this wound, and the wound was, as he knew, + and as she knew, the bite of a mad dog! + </p> + <p> + Edith gave a low moan of anguish and despair. She took his arm in her + hands. Dudleigh did not withdraw it. Even at that moment of horror it + seemed sweet to him to see these signs of feeling on her part; and though + he did not know what it was that she had in her mind, he waited, to feel + for a moment longer the clasp of those hands. + </p> + <p> + Edith held his arm in her hands, and the terrible wound fascinated her + eyes with horror. It seemed to her at that moment that this was the doom + of Dudleigh, the stamp of his sure and certain death. It seemed to her + that this mark was the announcement to her that henceforth Dudleigh was + lost to her; that he must die—die by a death so horrible that its + horrors surpassed language and even imagination, and that this unutterable + doom had been drawn down upon him for her. + </p> + <p> + It had been terrible. Out of pleasant thoughts and genial conversation and + genie smiles and happy interchange of sentiment, out of the joy of a glad + day, out of the delight of golden hours and sunlight and beauty and peace—to + be plunged suddenly into a woe like this! + </p> + <p> + There came to her a wild and desperate thought. Only one idea was in her + mind—to save Dudleigh, to snatch this dear friend from the death to + which he had flung himself for her sake. Inspired by this sole idea, there + had come a sudden thought. It was the thought of that royal wife's + devotion who, when her young husband lay dying from the poisoned dagger of + an assassin, drew the poison from the wound, and thus snatched him from + the very grasp of death. This it was, then, that was in the mind of Edith, + and it was in her agonized heart at that moment to save Dudleigh even as + Eleanor had saved Edward. + </p> + <p> + She bent down her head, till her face was close to his arm. + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh looked on as in a dream. He did not know, he could not even + conceive, what she had in her heart to do for his sake. It would have + seemed incredible, had he not seen it; nor could he have imagined it, had + he not been convinced. + </p> + <p> + The discovery flashed suddenly, vividly across his mind. He recognized in + that one instant the love, the devotion, stronger than death, which was + thus manifesting itself in that slight movement of that adored one by his + side. It was a thought of sweetness unutterable, which amidst his agony + sent a thrill of rapture through every nerve. + </p> + <p> + It was but for a moment. + </p> + <p> + He gently withdrew his arm. She looked at him reproachfully and + imploringly. He turned away his face firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Will you leave me for a moment, Miss Dalton?” said he, in a choking + voice. + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the doorway. + </p> + <p> + She did not appear to understand him. She stood, with her face white as + ashes, and looked at him with the same expression. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me—oh, leave me,” he said, “for one moment! It is not fit for + you.” + </p> + <p> + She did not move. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THERE WAS THE HISS OF SOMETHING SCORCHING."} + </p> + <p> + Dudleigh could wait no longer. His soul was roused up to a desperate + purpose, but the execution of that purpose could not be delayed. He sprang + to the fire. One of the irons had been imbedded there in the glowing + coals. He had seen this in his despair, and had started toward it, when + Edith detained him. This iron he snatched out. It was at a white heat, + dazzling in its glow. + </p> + <p> + In an instant he plunged this at the wound. A low cry like a muffled groan + was wrung from the spectators, who watched the act with eyes of utter + horror. + </p> + <p> + There was the hiss of something scorching; a sickening smoke arose and + curled up about his head, and ascended to the roof. But in the midst of + this Dudleigh stood as rigid as Mucius Scaevola under another fiery trial, + with the hand that held the glowing iron and the arm that felt the awful + torment as steady as though he had been a statue fashioned in that + attitude. Thus he finished his work. + </p> + <p> + It was all over in a few seconds. Then Dudleigh turned, with his face + ghastly white, and big drops of perspiration, wrung out by that agony, + standing over his brow. He flung down the iron. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Edith, yielding altogether to the horror that had + hitherto overwhelmed her, fell senseless to the floor. + </p> + <p> + By this time some among the crowd had regained the use of their faculties, + and these advanced to offer their services. Dudleigh was able to direct + them to take Edith to some shelter, and while they did so he followed. + Edith after some time revived. A doctor was sent for, who examined + Dudleigh's arm, and praised him for his prompt action, while wondering at + his daring. He bound it up, and gave some general directions. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile a messenger had been sent to Dalton Hall for the carriage. + Edith, though she had revived, hardly felt strong enough for horseback, + and Dudleigh's arm was sufficiently painful to make him prefer as great a + degree of quiet as possible. When the carriage came, therefore, it was + with feelings of great relief that they took their seats and prepared to + go back. Nor was their journey any the less pleasant from the fact that + they had to sit close together, side by side—a closer union than any + they had thus far known. It was an eventful day; nor was its conclusion + the least so. But little was said during the drive home. Each felt what + bad been done by the other. Edith remembered how Dudleigh had risked the + most terrible, the most agonizing of deaths to save her. Dudleigh, on his + part, remembered that movement of hers, by which she was about to take the + poison from his wound unto herself. The appalling event which had occurred + had broken down all reserve. All was known. Each knew that the other was + dearer than all the world. Each knew that the other loved and was loved; + but yet in the midst of this knowledge there was a feeling of utter + helplessness arising from the unparalleled position of Edith. It was a + peculiar and at the same time a perilous one. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of the world these two were nothing less than man and wife. In + the eyes of the law, as Edith feared, she was the wife of Leon Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + Now this man was not Leon Dudleigh. He was an impostor. Edith did not even + know that his name was Dudleigh at all. She had never asked him the secret + of his life; he had never volunteered to tell it. She did not know what + his name really was. + </p> + <p> + As an impostor, she knew that he was liable to discovery, arrest, and + punishment at any time. She knew that the discovery of this man would + endanger herself. His arrest would involve hers, and she would once more + be tried for her life, as the murderer of the missing man, with the + additional disadvantage of having already eluded justice by a trick. She + was liable at any moment to this, for the missing man was still missing, + and it would go doubly hard for her, since she had aided and abetted for + so long a time the conspiracy of an impostor. + </p> + <p> + Yet this impostor was beyond all doubt a man of the loftiest character, + most perfect breeding, and profoundest self-devotion. From the very first + his face had revealed to her that he had entered upon this conspiracy for + her sake. And since then, for her sake, what had he not done? + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, they were both in a position of peril. They loved one another + passionately. But they could not possess one another. The world supposed + them man and wife, but the law made her the wife of another, of whom it + also charged her with being the murderer. Around these two there were + clouds of darkness, deep and dense, and their future was utterly obscure. + </p> + <p> + These things were in the minds of both of them through that drive, and + that evening as they walked about the grounds. For since their mutual love + had all been revealed, Dudleigh had spoken in words what he had repressed + so long, and Edith had confessed what had already been extorted from her. + Yet this mutual confession of love with all its attendant endearments, had + not blinded them to the dangers of their position and the difficulties + that lay in their way. + </p> + <p> + “I can not endure this state of things,” said Dudleigh. “For your sake, as + well as my own, Edith darling, it must be brought to an end. I have not + been idle, but I have waited to hear from those who have put themselves on + the track of the man from whom we have most to dread. One has tried to + find some trace of Leon; the other is my mother. Now I have not heard from + either of them, and I am beginning to feel not only impatient, but + uneasy.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. — IMPORTANT NEWS. + </h2> + <p> + The position of Edith and Dudleigh was of such a character that farther + inaction was felt to be intolerable, and it was only the hope of hearing + from those who were already engaged in the work that made him capable of + delaying longer. But several events now occurred which put an end to the + present state of things. + </p> + <p> + The first of these was a marked improvement in the condition of Mr. + Dalton. A successful operation performed upon him had the result of + restoring him to consciousness, and after this a general increase of + strength took place. His intense joy at the sight of Edith, and the + delight which he felt at her presence and the reception of her loving and + tender care, all acted favorably upon him; and as the sorrow which he had + experienced had been the chief cause of his prostration, so the happiness + which he now felt became a powerful agent toward restoring him to + strength. + </p> + <p> + The joy of Edith was so great that the terror and perplexity of her + position ceased to alarm her. Her greatest grief seemed now removed, for + she had feared that her father might die without ever knowing how deeply + she repented for the past and how truly she loved him. Now, however, he + would live to receive from her those tender cares which, while they could + never in her mind atone for the wrongs that she had inflicted upon him, + would yet be the means of giving some happiness to him who had suffered go + much. + </p> + <p> + A few days after her father's restoration to consciousness Dudleigh + received a letter of a most important character, and as soon as he was + able to see Edith during the walks that they still took in the afternoon + or evening, he informed her with unusual emotion of the fact. + </p> + <p> + “She writes,” he concluded, “that she has got at last on the track of + Leon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have not heard from my mother. I mean Miss Fortescue.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fortescue?” repeated Edith, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dudleigh. “I did not mention her before, because I did not + know what you might think about it. But the fact is, I saw her after the + trial was over. She had come to give important testimony. She came to see + me, and told me all about it. The information was of the most + extraordinary kind. It appears that in the course of her own inquiries she + had heard some gossip about a long box which had been put off at Finsbury + from the train. This was called for by a teamster, who was accompanied by + a Newfoundland dog, who took the box, and drove away from Finsbury to + Dalton. Now, as no such teamster, or box, or dog, had been seen in Dalton, + she began to suspect that it had something to do with the remains found in + the well, and that this whole matter was a malignant scheme of Leon's to + involve you or your father, or both, in some calamity. At any rate, she + herself went cautiously about, and tried to investigate for herself. She + had all along felt convinced that Leon was alive, and she felt equally + convinced that he was capable of any malignant act for the purpose of + wreaking his vengeance on you or your father. He had been baffled here, + and had sworn vengeance. That much your father told me before the trial. + </p> + <p> + “So Miss Fortescue searched very carefully, and at length made a very + important discovery. A few miles this side of Finsbury there is a grove, + through which the Dalton Park wall runs. Here she happened to see the + trace of heavy wheels, and the hedge which adjoins the wall, and is rather + thin there, seemed to have been broken through, so as to form an opening + wide enough to admit a cart. Struck by this, she followed the marks of the + wheels into the grove for some distance, until they stopped. Here, to her + surprised, she saw close by the Dalton Park wall an oblong box, just like + the one which had been described to her. It was empty, and had been left + here. + </p> + <p> + “Now why had it been left here? Miss Fortescue felt certain that Leon had + brought a dead body in that box, that he had taken it stealthily into the + park, and thrown it down into the well, and then, not wishing to be seen + with such a very conspicuous thing as this box, he had left it behind him. + She also thought that he had managed in a secret way to start the rumors + that had prevailed, and to drop some hints, either by anonymous letters to + the sheriff or otherwise, which turned their attention to the well. She + saw at once how important this testimony would be in your favor, and + therefore saw the Finsbury people who had told her of the teamster, and + with these she came to the trial. But when she came she heard that the + missing man had returned—and saw me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + At this extraordinary information Edith was silent for some time. + </p> + <p> + “I have often tried to account for it,” said she, “but I could hardly + bring myself to believe that this was his work. But now when I recalled + his last words to me, I can understand it, and I am forced to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “His last words to you?” said Dudleigh, in an inquiring tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith, with a sigh. “The remembrance of that night is so + distressing that I have never felt able to speak of it. Even the thought + of what I suffered then almost drives me wild; but now—and to <i>you</i>, + Reginald—it is different, and I have strength to speak of it.” + </p> + <p> + As she said this she looked at him tenderly, and Reginald folded her in + his arms. She then began to give an account of that eventful night, of her + long preparations, her suspense, her departure, until that moment when she + saw that she was pursued. The remainder only need be given here. + </p> + <p> + She had been right in her conjectures. Leon had suspected, or at least had + watched, and discovered all. The moonlight had revealed her plainly as she + stole across the open area, and when she fled into the woods the rustling + and crackling had betrayed the direction which she had taken. Thus it was + that Leon had been able to pursue her, and his first sneering words as he + came up to her made her acquainted with her awkwardness. The trees were + not so close but that her figure could be seen; the moonlight streamed + down, and disclosed her standing at bay, desperate, defiant, with her + dagger uplifted, and her arm nerved to strike. This Leon saw, and being + afraid to venture close to her, he held aloof, and tried to conceal his + cowardice in taunts and sneers. + </p> + <p> + Edith said nothing for some time, but at last, seeing that Leon hesitated, + she determined to continue her flight in spite of him, and informed him + so. + </p> + <p> + Upon this he threatened to set the dog on her. + </p> + <p> + “He will tear you to pieces,” cried Leon. “No one will suspect that I had + any thing to do with it. Every body will believe that in trying to run + away you were caught by the dog.” + </p> + <p> + This threat, however, did not in the least alarm Edith. She was not afraid + of the dog. She had already gained the animal's affections by various + little acts of kindness. So now, in response to Leon's threats, she held + out her hand toward the dog and called him. The dog wagged his tail and + made a few steps forward. At this Leon grew infuriated, and tried to set + him at Edith. But the dog would not obey. Leon then held him, pointed his + head toward Edith, and doing all in his power to urge him on. The effort, + however, was completely useless. Edith, seeing this, hurried away. Leon + rushed after her, followed by the dog, and once more she stood at bay, + while the same efforts were repeated to set the dog at her. This was done + several times over. At last Leon gave the dog a terrible beating. Wild + with indignant rage at his cowardice, brutality, and persistent pursuit, + full also of pity for the poor animal who was suffering for love of her, + Edith sprang forward at Leon as though she would stab him. Whether she + would have done so or not, need not be said; at any rate her purpose was + gained, for Leon, with a cry of fear, started back. + </p> + <p> + Then standing at a safe distance, he hurled at her the most terrible + threats of vengeance. Among all these she remembered well one expression, + which he repeated over and over. + </p> + <p> + “You've threatened my life!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “My life shall lie at your door, if I have to kill myself.” + </p> + <p> + This he said over and over. But Edith did not wait much longer. Once more + she started off, and this time Leon did not follow her. That was the last + she saw or heard of him. After this she wandered about through woods and + swamps for a long time, and at length, about the dawn of day, when she had + almost lost all hope, she came to the wall. This she clambered over by + means of her rope and hook, and reached the Dalton Inn in the condition + already described. + </p> + <p> + Afterward, when she heard that Leon was missing, and when she was + confronted with the remains, the whole horror of her situation burst upon + her mind. Her first thought was that he had in his desperate rage actually + killed himself; but the absence of the head showed that this was + impossible. There remained after this a deep mystery, the solution of + which she could not discover, but in the midst of which she could not fail + to see how terribly circumstances bore against her. She was afraid to say + any thing. She knew that if she told all she would be believed but in + part. If she confessed that she had seen him, and had quarreled with him + on that night, then all men would conclude that she had also murdered him + so as to escape. She saw also how hopeless it was to look for any + testimony in her favor. Every thing was against her. Being in ignorance of + her father and Lady Dudleigh, she had supposed that they would be most + relentless of all in doing her to death; and the excitement of the latter + over the loss of Leon was never suspected by her to be the frenzied grief + of a mother's heart over a sudden and most agonizing bereavement. + </p> + <p> + But now all these things were plain. Another shared her secret—one, + too, who would lay down his life for her—and the efforts of Miss + Fortescue had resulted in suggesting to her mind a new solution of the + mystery. + </p> + <p> + After the natural comments which were elicited by Edith's strange story, + Reginald showed her the letter which he had received from Miss Fortescue. + It was not very long, nor was it very definite. It merely informed him + that she had reason to believe that she had at last got upon the track of + Leon; and requested him to come to her at once, as there was danger of + losing this opportunity if there was any delay. She appointed a place at + which she would meet him three days from the date of the letter, where she + would wait several days to allow for all delay in his reception of the + letter. The place which she mentioned was known to Reginald as the nearest + station on the railway to Dudleigh Manor. + </p> + <p> + “This must decide all,” said Reginald. “They are playing a desperate game, + and the part which must be done by my mother and myself is a terrible one. + If we fail in this, we may have to fly at once. But if I can only see Leon + once, so as to drag him before the world, and show that he is alive—if + I can only save you, darling, from your terrible position, then I can bear + other evils in patience for a time longer.” + </p> + <p> + “You have heard nothing from your mother, then?” said Edith. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, with a sigh. “And I feel anxious—terribly anxious. I + was very unwilling for her to go, and warned her against it; but she was + determined, and her reasons for doing so were unanswerable; still I feel + terribly alarmed, for Sir Lionel is a man who would stop at nothing to get + rid of one whom he thinks is the only witness against him.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THEY WERE STARTLED BY THE APPROACH OF SEVERAL MEN."} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. — THE STORY OF FREDERICK DALTON. + </h2> + <p> + After Dudleigh's departure Edith was left more exclusively with her + father, and had the satisfaction of seeing that under her tender care he + grew stronger and more happy every day. In the long confidences between + these two, who had once been so separated, all was gradually explained, + and Edith learned not only the whole truth about that calamity which had + befallen him in early life, but also the reason of that once inexplicable + policy which he had chosen with regard to herself. + </p> + <p> + Lionel Dudleigh and he had been friends from boyhood, though the weak and + lavish character of the former had gradually put them upon divergent lines + of life, which even Lionel's marriage with his sister, Claudine Dalton, + could not bring together again. For Lionel had fallen into evil courses, + and had taken to the common road of ruin—the turf; and though it had + been hoped that his marriage would work a reformation, yet those hopes had + all proved unfounded. Years passed. Two children were born to Lionel + Dudleigh—Reginald and Leon; yet not even the considerations of their + future welfare, which usually have weight with the most corrupt, were + sufficiency powerful to draw back the transgressor from his bad career. + </p> + <p> + He became terribly involved in debt. Twice already his debts had been + paid, but this third time his father would assist him no longer. His elder + brother, then heir to the estate, was equally inexorable; and Frederick + Dalton was the one who came forward to save his sister's husband and his + old friend from destruction. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, however, Lionel was not frank with Dalton. Perhaps he + was afraid to tell him the whole amount of his debts, for fear that Dalton + would refuse to do any thing. At any rate, whatever the cause was, after + Dalton had, as he supposed, settled every thing, Lionel was pressed as + hard as ever by a crowd of creditors, whom this partial settlement had + only rendered the more ravenous. + </p> + <p> + Pressed hard by one of these, the wretched man had forged a check on the + Liverpool banker, Mr. Henderson, and this check he had inclosed in a + letter to Frederick Dalton, requesting him to get the money and pay one or + two debts which he specified. This Dalton did at once, without hesitation + or suspicion of any sort. + </p> + <p> + Then came the discovery, swift and sudden, that it was a forgery. But one + feeling arose in Dalton's mind, and that was a desire to save Lionel. He + hurried off at once to see him. The wretched man confessed all. Dalton at + once went to Liverpool, where he saw Mr. Henderson, and tried to save his + friend. He came away from the interview, however only to make known to + Lionel the banker's obstinacy and resolution to have vengeance. + </p> + <p> + Dalton's solicitor in Liverpool was Mr. John Wiggins. Lionel's presence in + Liverpool was not known to any one but Dalton. He had seen Wiggins once, + and persuaded Lionel to see him also, to which the latter consented only + with extreme difficulty. The interview never took place, however, nor was + Wiggins aware of Lionel's presence in Liverpool, or of his guilt. Then the + murder took place, and the paper was found which criminated Dalton, who + was at once arrested. + </p> + <p> + Dalton was thunder-struck, not so much at his own arrest as at the + desperation of his friend and his utter baseness. He knew perfectly well + who the murderer was. The Maltese cross which had been found was not + necessary to show him this. No other man could have had any motive, and no + other man could have thought of mentioning his name in connection with the + terrible deed. It was thus that Dalton found himself betrayed in the + foulest manner, through no other cause than his own generosity. + </p> + <p> + The horror of Mrs. Dudleigh on hearing of her brother's arrest was + excessive. She went off at once to see him. Even to her Dalton said + nothing about Lionel's guilt, for he wished to spare her the cruel blow + which such intelligence would give. + </p> + <p> + The feeling that now animated Dalton can easily be explained. In the first + place, knowing that he was innocent, he had not the faintest doubt that he + would be acquitted. He believed that where there was no guilt, no such + thing as guilt could be proved. He relied also on his well-known + reputation. + </p> + <p> + Feeling thus confident of his own innocence, and certain of acquittal, he + had only to ask himself what he ought to do with reference to Lionel. + Strict justice demanded that he should tell all that he knew; but there + were other considerations besides strict justice. There was the future of + Lionel himself, whom he wished to spare in spite of his baseness. More + than this, there was his sister and his sister's children. He could not + bring himself to inform against the guilty husband and father, and thus + crush their innocent heads under an overwhelming load of shame. He never + imagined that he himself, and his innocent wife and his innocent child, + would have to bear all that which he shrank from imposing upon the wife + and children of Lionel. + </p> + <p> + The trial went on, and then came forth revelations which showed all to + Mrs. Dudleigh. That Maltese cross was enough. It was the key to the whole + truth. She saw her brother, and asked him. He was silent. Frantic with + grief, she hurried back to her husband. To her fierce reproaches he + answered not a word. She now proceeded to Liverpool. Her brother entreated + her to be calm and silent. He assured her that there was no possible + danger to himself, and implored her, for the sake of her children, to say + nothing. She allowed herself to be convinced by him, and to yield to + entreaties uttered by the very accused himself, and in the name of her + children. She believed in his innocence, and could not help sharing his + confidence in an acquittal. + </p> + <p> + That acquittal did come—by a narrow chance, yet it did come; but at + once, to the consternation of both brother and sister, the new trial + followed. Here Dalton tried to keep up his confidence as before. His + counsel implored him to help them in making his defense by telling them + what he knew, but Dalton remained fatally obstinate. Proudly confiding in + his innocence, and trusting to his blameless life, he still hesitated to + do what he considered an act of merciless cruelty to his sister, and he + still persuaded her also to silence, and still prophesied his own + acquittal, and the rescue of her husband and children from ruin. Part of + his prophecy was fulfilled. The husband and children of the sister were + indeed saved, but it was at the expense of the innocent and devoted + brother. + </p> + <p> + The effect was terrible. Dalton heard of his wife's illness. He had + written to her before, full of confidence, and trying to cheer her; but + from the first Mrs. Dalton had looked for the worst; not that she supposed + her husband could possibly be otherwise than innocent, but simply because + she was timid and afraid of the law. She had good reason to fear. Word was + brought to Dalton that she was dying, and then the news came that she was + dead. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mrs. Dudleigh, more frenzied than ever, flew to see her husband. + She found that he had gone to the Continent. She pursued him, and reached + him in Italy. Here she called upon him to confess his guilt, and save his + innocent friend. He refused. He dared not. She threatened to denounce him. + He fell at her feet and implored her mercy in the name of their children. + He entreated her to wait, to try other means first, to get a new trial—any + thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dudleigh's threats to inform against him were easy to make, yet not + so easy to carry out. Turning from her husband in horror, she returned to + England with the fixed intention of telling every thing. His letter to + Dalton could have been shown, and the Maltese cross could have proved who + the murderer was. But Mrs. Dudleigh's courage faltered when she reached + her home and saw her children. Already she had heard of Mrs. Dalton's + death; already she knew well that Edith Dalton was doomed to inherit a + name of shame, a legacy of dishonor, and that she alone could now avert + this. But to avert this she must doom her own children. Had it been + herself only and her guilty husband, it would have been easy to be just; + but here were her children standing in the way and keeping her back. + </p> + <p> + Her struggles were agonizing. Time passed on; the delay was fatal. Time + passed, and the distracted mother could not make up her mind to deal out + ruin and shame to her children. Time passed, and Dalton was taken away to + that far-distant country to which he had been sentenced—transported + for life. + </p> + <p> + Other changes also took place. Lionel's father and elder brother both died + within a short time of one another, leaving him heir to the estate and the + baronetcy. He was now Sir Lionel Dudleigh, and she was Lady Dudleigh; and + her brother—the pure in heart, the noble, the devoted—what and + where was he? + </p> + <p> + The struggle was terrible, and she could not decide it. It seemed + abhorrent for her to rise up and denounce her husband, even to save her + brother. She could not do it, but she did what she could. She wrote her + husband a letter, bidding him farewell, and imploring him to confess; took + her son Reginald, the eldest, leaving behind the younger, Leon, and + prepared to go to her brother, hoping that if she could not save him, she + might at least alleviate his sorrows. She took with her Hugo, a faithful + old servant of the Dalton family, and with him and Reginald went to + Australia. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Dalton had been in the country for a year. Before leaving he had + not been unmindful of others even in that dire extremity. He had only one + thought, and that was his child. He had learned that Miss Plympton had + taken her, and he wrote to her, urging her never to tell Edith her + father's story, and never to let the world know that she was his daughter. + He appointed Wiggins agent for his estates and guardian of Edith before he + left; and having thus secured her interests for the present, he went to + meet his fate. + </p> + <p> + In Sydney he was treated very differently from the common convicts. + Criminals of all classes were sent out there, and to the better sort large + privileges were allowed. Dalton was felt by all to be a man of the latter + kind. His dignified bearing, his polish and refinement, together with the + well-known fact that he had so resolutely maintained his innocence, all + excited sympathy and respect. + </p> + <p> + When Lady Dudleigh arrived there with Hugo and her son, she soon found out + this, and this fact enabled her to carry into execution a plan which she + had cherished all along during the voyage. She obtained a sheep farm about + a hundred miles away, applied to the authorities, and was able to hire + Dalton as a servant. Taking him in this capacity, she went with him to the + sheep farm, where Hugo and Reginald also accompanied them. One more was + afterward added. This was the man “Wilkins,” who had been sentenced to + transportation for poaching, and had come out in the same ship with + Dalton. Lady Dudleigh obtained this man also, under Dalton's advice, and + he ultimately proved of great assistance to them. + </p> + <p> + Here in this place years passed away. Dalton's only thought was of his + daughter. The short formal notes which were signed “John Wiggins,” all + came from him. He could not trust himself to do any more. The sweet + childish letters which she wrote once or twice he kept next his heart, and + cherished as more precious than any earthly possession, but dared not + answer for fear lest he might break that profound secret which he wished + to be maintained between her and himself—her, the pure young girl, + himself, the dishonored outcast. So the years passed, and he watched her + from afar in his thoughts, and every year he thought of her age, and tried + to imagine what she looked like. + </p> + <p> + During these years there was rising among them another spirit—a + character—whose force was destined to change the fortune of all. + </p> + <p> + This was Reginald. + </p> + <p> + From the first he had known the whole story—more than Leon had + known. Leon had known his father's guilt and Dalton's innocence, but + Reginald had been the confidant of his mother, the witness of her grief + and her despair. He had lived with Dalton, and year after year had been + the witness of a spectacle which never ceased to excite the deepest + emotion, that of an innocent man, a just man, suffering wrongfully on + behalf of another. His own father he had learned to regard with horror, + while all the enthusiastic love of his warm young heart had fixed itself + upon the man who had done all this for another. He knew for whom Dalton + had suffered. It was for his mother, and for himself, and he knew that he + was every day living on the sufferings and the woe of this broken-hearted + friend. Gradually other motives arose. He was a witness of Dalton's + profound and all-absorbing love for his daughter, and his passionate + desire to save her from all knowledge of his own shame. To Reginald all + this grew more and more intolerable. He now saw the worst result of all, + and he felt that while his own father had thrown upon his friend his load + of infamy, so he himself, the son, was throwing upon Edith Dalton all that + inherited infamy. + </p> + <p> + At last his resolution was taken. He informed his mother. She had been + aware of his struggles of soul for years, and did not oppose him. Indeed, + she felt some relief. It was for the son's sake that she had faltered when + justice demanded her action. Now that son had grown to be a calm, strong, + resolute man, and he had decided. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the decision was a final one. Not one objection was disregarded. + Every thing was considered, and the resolution was, at all hazards, and at + every cost, to do right. That resolution involved the accusation, the + trial, the condemnation, the infamy—yes, the death—of a + husband and a father; but even at that cost it was the resolve of Reginald + that this thing should be. + </p> + <p> + The plan of escape occupied far less time. Dalton objected at first to the + whole thing, but Reginald had only to mention to him his daughter's name + to induce him to concur. + </p> + <p> + After this it was given out that Frederick Dalton had died. This statement + was received by the authorities without suspicion or examination, though + the conspirators were prepared for both. + </p> + <p> + Then Frederick Dalton, under an assumed name, accompanied by Hugo, went to + Sydney, where he embarked for England. No one recognized him. He had + changed utterly. Grief, despair, and time had wrought this. Reginald and + his mother went by another ship, a little later, and had no difficulty in + taking Wilkins with them. They all reached England in safety, and met at a + place agreed upon beforehand, where their future action was arranged. + </p> + <p> + On the voyage home Dalton had decided upon that policy which he afterward + sought to carry out. It was, first of all, to live in the utmost + seclusion, and conceal himself as far as possible from every eye. A + personal encounter with some old acquaintance, who failed to recognize + him, convinced him that the danger of his secret being discovered was very + small. His faithful solicitor, John Wiggins, of Liverpool, would not + believe that the gray-haired and venerable man who came to him was the man + whom he professed to be, until Dalton and Reginald had proved it by + showing the letters, and by other things. By John Wiggins's suggestion + Dalton assumed the name of Wiggins, and gave himself out to be a brother + of the Liverpool solicitor. No one suspected, and no questions were asked, + and so Dalton went to Dalton Hall under the name of Wiggins, while Lady + Dudleigh went as Mrs. Dunbar, to be housekeeper; and their domestics were + only Hugo and Wilkins, whose fidelity was known to be incorruptible, and + who were, of course, intimately acquainted with the secret of their + master. + </p> + <p> + Here Dalton took up his abode, while John Wiggins, of Liverpool, began to + set in motion the train of events which should end in the accomplishment + of justice. First, it was necessary to procure from the authorities all + the documentary and other evidence which had been acquired ten years + before. Several things were essential, and above all the Maltese cross. + But English law is slow, and these things required time. + </p> + <p> + It was the intention of Dalton to have every thing in readiness first, and + then send Reginald and Lady Dudleigh to Sir Lionel to try the force of a + personal appeal. If by threats or any other means they could persuade him + to confess, he was to be allowed time to fly to some safe place, or take + any other course which he deemed most consistent with his safety. Dalton + himself was not to appear, but to preserve his secret inviolable. If Sir + Lionel should prove impracticable, then the charge and arrest should take + place at once; whether for forgery or murder was not decided. That should + be left to Reginald's own choice. They leaned to mercy, however, and + preferred the charge of forgery. Sir Lionel was mistaken in supposing Lady + Dudleigh to be the only witness against him, for Reginald had been present + at more than one interview between the frenzied wife and the guilty + husband, and had heard his father confess the whole. + </p> + <p> + But the regular progress of affairs had been altogether interrupted by the + sudden appearance of Edith. On reaching Dalton Hall Mr. Dalton had felt an + uncontrollable eagerness to see her, and had written to Miss Plympton the + letter already reported. He did not expect that she would come so soon. He + thought that she would wait for a time; that he would get an answer, and + arrange every thing for her reception. As it was, she came at once, + without any announcement, accompanied by Miss Plympton and her maid. + </p> + <p> + For years Dalton had been kept alive by the force of one feeling alone—his + love for his daughter. Out of the very intensity of his love for her arose + also another feeling, equally intense, and that was the desire to clear + his name from all stain before meeting with her. At first he had intended + to refrain from seeing her, but, being in England, and so near, his desire + for her was uncontrollable. Reginald had gone for a tour on the Continent. + The Hall was lonely; every room brought back the memory of his lost wife, + and of that little Edith who, years before, used to wander about these + halls and amidst these scenes with him. He could not endure this enforced + separation, and so he wrote as he did. He expected he scarcely new what. + He had a vague idea that though he refused to make himself known, that she + nevertheless might divine it, or else, out of some mysterious filial + instinct, might love him under his assumed name as fervently as though + there was no concealment. + </p> + <p> + When she came so suddenly, he was taken by surprise. He longed to see her, + but was afraid to admit her companions; and so it was that his daughter, + in whom his life was now bound up, was almost turned away from her + father's gates. + </p> + <p> + Then followed her life at Dalton Hall. Dalton, afraid of the outside + world, afraid to be discovered, after having done so much for safety, at + the very time when deliverance seemed near, looked with terror upon + Edith's impatience. He risked an interview. He came full of a father's + holiest love, yet full of the purpose of his life to redeem the Dalton + name for her sake. He met with scorn and hate. From those interviews he + retired with his heart wrung by an anguish greater than any that he had + ever known before. + </p> + <p> + And so it went on. It was for her own sake that he restrained her; yet he + could not tell her, for he had set his heart on not revealing himself till + he could do so with an unstained name. But he had made a mistake at the + very outset from his impatient desire to see her, and he was doomed to see + the results of that mistake. Miss Plympton was turned away, and forthwith + appealed to Sir Lionel. The result of this was that Leon came. Leon + recognized Wilkins, and could not be kept out. He did not know Dalton, but + knew that he was not the man whom he professed to be, and his suspicions + were aroused. On seeing Dalton he assumed a high tone toward him, which he + maintained till the last. Lady Dudleigh's emotion at the sight of Leon was + a sore embarrassment, and all Dalton's plans seemed about to fall into + confusion. The visits of the disguised Miss Fortescue were a puzzle; and + as both Dalton and Lady Dudleigh looked upon this new visitor as an + emissary of Leon's, they viewed these visits as they did those of Leon. + For the first time Lady Dudleigh and Dalton were of opposite views. Dalton + dreaded these visits, but his sister favored them. Her mother's heart + yearned over Leon; and even if he did seek Edith's affections, it did not + seem an undesirable thing. That, however, was a thing from which Dalton + recoiled in horror. + </p> + <p> + At that time Reginald's strong will and clear intellect were sorely + needed, but he was away on his Continental tour, and knew nothing of all + these occurrences till it was too late. + </p> + <p> + Thus nothing was left to Dalton but idle warnings, which Edith treated as + we have seen. True, there was one other resource, and that was to tell her + all; but this he hesitated to do. For years he had hoped to redeem + himself. He had looked forward to the day when his name should be freed + from stain, and he still looked forward to that day when he might be able + to say, “Here, my beloved daughter, my name is free from stain; you can + acknowledge me without shame.” + </p> + <p> + But Edith's opposition, and the plans of Leon, and the absorption of Lady + Dudleigh's sympathies in the interests of her son, all destroyed Dalton's + chances. He could only watch, and hear from his faithful Hugo accounts of + what was going on. Thus he was led into worse and worse acts, and by + misunderstanding Edith at the outset, opened the way for both himself and + her to many sorrows. + </p> + <p> + After the terrible events connected with the mysterious departure of Leon + and the arrest of Edith, Dalton had at once written to Reginald. He had + been ill in the interior of Sicily—for his testimony at the trial + had been in part correct. Dalton's letter was delayed in reaching him, but + he hurried back as soon as possible. Relying on his extraordinary + resemblance to Leon, Dalton had urged him to personify the missing man, + and this he had consented to do, with the success which has been + described. His chief motive in doing this was his profound sympathy for + Dalton, and for Edith also, whom he believed to have been subjected to + unfair treatment. That sympathy which he had already felt for Edith was + increased when he saw her face to face. + </p> + <p> + All this was not told to Edith at once, but rather in the course of + several conversations. Already in that interview in the prison her father + had explained to her his motives in acting as he had, and this fuller + confession only made those motives more apparent. In Edith this story + served only to excite fresh grief and remorse. But Dalton showed so much + grief himself that Edith was forced to restrain such feelings as these in + his presence. He took all the blame to himself. He would not allow her to + reproach herself. He it was, he insisted, who had been alone to blame in + subjecting a generous, high-spirited girl to such terrible treatment—to + imprisonment and spying and coercion. So great was his own grief that + Edith found herself forced from the position of penitent into that of + comforter, and often had to lose sight of her own offenses in the endeavor + to explain away her own sufferings. + </p> + <p> + And thus, where there was so much need of mutual forgiveness and mutual + consolation, each one became less a prey to remorse. + </p> + <p> + In the joy which he felt at thus gaining at last all his daughter's love, + especially after the terrible misunderstanding that had divided her from + him, Dalton had no thought for those grave dangers which surrounded both + her and him. But to Edith these dangers still appeared, and they were most + formidable. She could not forget that she was still liable to arrest on + the most appalling of accusations, and that her father also was liable to + discovery and re-arrest. Reginald had tried to banish her fears and + inspire her with hope; but now that he was no longer near, her position + was revealed, and the full possibility of her danger could no longer be + concealed. + </p> + <p> + Danger there indeed was, danger most formidable, not to her only, but to + all of them. Coward Sir Lionel might be, but a coward when at bay is + dangerous, since he is desperate. Sir Lionel also was powerful, since he + was armed with all the force that may be given by wealth and position, and + in his despair his utmost resources would undoubtedly be put forth. Those + despairing efforts would be aimed at all of them—all were alike + threatened: herself on the old charge, her father as an escaped convict, + and Reginald as a perjurer and a conspirator against the ends of justice. + As to Lady Dudleigh, she knew not what to think, but she was aware of + Reginald's fears about her and she shared them to the fullest extent. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of all this Edith received letter from Miss Plympton. She was + just recovering, she said, from a severe illness, consequent on anxiety + about her. She had heard the terrible tidings of her arrest, but of late + had been cheered by the news of her release. The letter was most loving, + and revealed all the affection of her “second mother.” Yet so true was + Miss Plympton to the promise which she had made to Mr. Dalton, that she + did not allude to the great secret which had once been disclosed to her. + </p> + <p> + Edith read the letter with varied feelings, and thought with an aching + heart of her reception of that other letter. This letter, however, met + with a different fate. She answered it at once, and told all about her + father, concluding with the promise to go and visit her as soon as she + could. + </p> + <p> + And now all her thoughts and hopes were centred upon Reginald. Where was + he? Where was Lady Dudleigh? Had he found Leon? What would Sir Lionel do? + Such were the thoughts that never ceased to agitate her mind. + </p> + <p> + He had been gone a whole week. She had heard nothing from him. Accustomed + as she had been to see him every day for so long a time, this week seemed + prolonged to the extent of a month; and as he had promised to write her + under any circumstances, she could not account for his failure to keep + that promise. His silence alarmed her. As day succeeded to day, and still + no letter came, she became a prey to all those fearful fancies which may + be raised by a vivid imagination, when one is in suspense about the fate + of some dearly loved friend. + </p> + <p> + Her father, whose watchful love made him observant of every one of her + varying moods, could not avoid noticing the sadness and agitation of her + face and manner, and was eager to know the cause. This, however, Edith's + modesty would not allow her to explain, but she frankly confessed that she + was anxious. Her anxiety she attributed to her fears about their + situation, and her dread lest something might be found out about the + imposture of Reginald, or about her father's real character and + personality. The fear was not an idle one, and Dalton, though he tried to + soothe her, was himself too well aware of the danger that surrounded both + of them to be very successful in his efforts. + </p> + <p> + All this time a steady improvement had been taking place in Dalton's + health, and his recovery from his illness was rapid and continuous. It was + Edith's love and care and sympathy which thus gave strength to him, and + the joy which he felt in her presence was the best medicine for his + afflictions. + </p> + <p> + Thus one day he was at last able to venture outside. It was something more + than a week since Reginald had left. Edith was more anxious than ever, but + strove to conceal her anxiety and to drown her own selfish cares under + more assiduous attentions to that father whose whole being now seemed so + to centre upon her. For this purpose she had persuaded him to leave the + Hall, and come forth into the grounds; and the two were now walking in + front of the Hall, around the pond, Edith supporting her father's feeble + footsteps, and trying to cheer him by pointing out some improvements which + ought to be made, while the old man, with his mind full of sweet peace, + thought it happiness enough for him to lean on her loving arm and hear her + sweet voice as she spoke those words of love which for so many years he + had longed to hear. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this they were startled by the approach of several men. + </p> + <p> + Visitors were rare at Dalton Hall. Before the recent troubles they had + been prohibited, and though during Dalton's illness the prohibition had + been taken off, yet there were few who cared to pass those gates. Upon + this occasion the approach of visitors gave a sudden shock to Edith and + her father, and when they saw that the chief one among those visitors was + the sheriff, that shock was intensified. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the moment had come which they both had dreaded. All was known. The + danger which they had feared was at hand, and each one trembled for the + other. Edith thought that it was her father who was sought after. Dalton + shuddered as he thought that his innocent daughter was once more in the + grasp of the law. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff approached, followed by three others, who were evidently + officers of the law. Dalton and Edith stood awaiting them, and Edith felt + her father's hands clasp her arm in a closer and more tremulous embrace. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff greeted them with a mournful face and evident embarrassment. + His errand was a painful one, and it was rendered doubly so by the piteous + sight before him—the feeble old man thus clinging to that sad-faced + young girl, the woe-worn father thus supported by the daughter whose own + experience of life had been so bitter. + </p> + <p> + “My business,” said the sheriff, “is a most painful one. Forgive me, Mrs. + Dudleigh. Forgive me, Mr. Dalton. I did not know till now how painful it + would be.” + </p> + <p> + He had greeted them in silence, removing his hat respectfully, and bowing + before this venerable old age and this sad-faced beauty, and then had said + these words with some abruptness. And as soon as he named that name + “Dalton,” they both understood that he knew all. + </p> + <p> + “You have come for me?” said Dalton. “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder passed through Edith. She flung her arms about her father, and + placed herself before him, as if to interpose between him and that + terrible fate which still pursued its innocent victim. She turned her + large mournful eyes upon the sheriff with a look of silent horror, but + said not a word. + </p> + <p> + “I can not help it,” said the sheriff, in still deeper embarrassment. “I + feel for you, for both of you, but you must come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, spare him!” cried Edith. “He is ill. He has just risen from his bed. + Leave him here. He is not fit to go. Let me nurse him.” + </p> + <p> + The sheriff looked at her in increasing embarrassment, with a face full of + pity. + </p> + <p> + “I am deeply grieved,” he said, in a low voice, “but I can not do + otherwise. I must do my duty. You, Mrs. Dudleigh, must come also. I have a + warrant for you too.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” groaned Dalton; “for her?” + </p> + <p> + The sheriff said nothing. The old man's face had such an expression of + anguish that words were useless. + </p> + <p> + “Again!” murmured Dalton. “Again! and on that false charge! She will die! + she will die!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa!” exclaimed Edith. “Do not think of me. I can bear it. There is + no danger for me. It is for you only that I am anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “My child! my darling Edith!” groaned the unhappy father, “this is my work—this + is what I have wrought for you.” + </p> + <p> + Edith pressed her father to her heart. She raised her pale face, and, + looking upward, sighed out in her agony of soul, + </p> + <p> + “O God! Is there any justice in heaven, when this is the justice of + earth!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing more was said. No one had any thing to say. This double arrest was + something too terrible for words, and the darkest forebodings came to the + mind of each one of these unhappy victims of the law. And thus, in silence + and in fear, they were led away—to prison and to judgment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. — THE BROTHERS. + </h2> + <p> + On leaving Dalton Hall Reginald went to the place mentioned by Miss + Fortescue. It was on the railway, and was about four miles from Dudleigh + Manor. Here he found Miss Fortescue. + </p> + <p> + She told him that she had tried to find Leon by making inquiries every + where among his old haunts, but without any success whatever. At last she + concluded that, since he was in such strict hiding, Dudleigh Manor itself + would not be an unlikely place in which to find him. She had come here, + and, after disguising herself with her usual skill, had made inquiries of + the porter with as much adroitness as possible. All her efforts, however, + were quite in vain. The porter could not be caught committing himself in + any way, but professed to have seen nothing of the missing man for months. + She would have come away from this experiment in despair had it not been + for one circumstance, which, though small in itself, seemed to her to have + very deep meaning. It was this. While she was talking with the porter a + dog came up, which at once began to fawn on her. This amazed the porter, + who did not like the appearance of things, and tried to drive the dog + away. But Miss Fortescue had in an instant recognized the dog of Leon, + well known to herself, and once a great pet. + </p> + <p> + This casual appearance of the dog seemed to her the strongest possible + proof that Leon was now in that very place. He must have been left + purposely in Dalton Park for a few days, probably having been stationed at + that very spot which he kept so persistently. If so, the same one who left + him there must have brought him here. It was inconceivable that the dog + could have found his way here alone from Dalton Park. In addition to this, + the porter's uneasiness at the dog's recognition of her was of itself full + of meaning. + </p> + <p> + This was all that she had been able to find out, but this was enough. + Fearful that Leon might suspect who she was, she had written to Reginald + at once; and now that he had come, she urged him to go to Dudleigh Manor + himself and find out the truth. + </p> + <p> + There was no need to urge Reginald. His anxiety about his mother was + enough to make him anxious to lose no time, but the prospect of finding + Leon made him now doubly anxious. It was already evening however, and he + would have to defer his visit until the following day. + </p> + <p> + At about nine o'clock the next morning Reginald Dudleigh stood at his + father's gate—the gate of that home from which he had been so long + an exile. The porter came out to open it, and stared at him in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you was out, Sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Evidently the porter had mistaken him for Leon. This address assured him + of the fact of Leon's presence. The porter was a new hand, and Reginald + did not think it worth while to explain. He entered silently while the + porter held the gate open, and then walked up the long avenue toward the + manor-house. + </p> + <p> + The door was open. He walked in. Some servants were moving about, who + seemed think his presence a matter of course. These also evidently mistook + him for Leon; and these things, slight as they were, assured him that his + brother must be here. Yet in spite of the great purpose for which he had + come—a purpose, as he felt, of life and death, and even more—in + spite of this, he could not help pausing for a moment as he found himself + within these familiar precincts, in the home of his childhood, within + sight of objects so well remembered, so long lost to view. + </p> + <p> + But it was only for a few moments. The first rush of feeling passed, and + then there came back the recollection of all that lay before him, of all + that depended upon this visit. He walked on. He reached the great + stairway. He ascended it. He came to the great hall up stairs. On one side + was the drawing-room, on the other the library. The former was empty, but + in the latter there was a solitary occupant. He was seated at a table, + writing. So intent was this man in his occupation that he did not hear the + sound of approaching footsteps, or at least did not regard them; for even + as Reginald stood looking at him, he went on with his writing. His back + was turned toward the door, so that Reginald could not see his face, but + the outline of the figure was sufficient. Reginald stood for a moment + looking at him. Then he advanced toward the writer, and laid his hand upon + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The writer gave a sudden start, leaped from his chair, and turned round. + There was fear on his face—the fear of one who is on the look-out + for sudden danger—a fear without a particle of recognition. But + gradually the blankness of his terrified face departed, and there came a + new expression—an expression in which there was equal terror, yet at + the same time a full recognition of the danger before him. + </p> + <p> + It was Leon Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + Reginald said not one word, but looked at him with a stern, relentless + face. + </p> + <p> + As these two thus stood looking at one another, each saw in the other's + face the marvelous resemblance to himself, which had been already so + striking to others, and so bewildering. But the expression was totally + different. Aside from the general air characteristic of each, there was + the look that had been called up by the present meeting. Reginald + confronted his brother with a stern, menacing gaze, and a look of + authority that was more than the ordinary look which might belong to an + elder brother. Leon's face still kept its look of fear, and there seemed + to be struggling with this fear an impulse to fly, which he was unable to + obey. Reginald looked like the master, Leon like the culprit and the + slave. + </p> + <p> + Leon was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You—here!” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Where else should I be?” said Reginald, in a stern voice. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” asked Leon, rallying from his fear, and apparently + encouraged by the sound of his own voice. + </p> + <p> + “What do I want?” repeated Reginald. “Many things. First, I want you; + secondly, my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get any thing out of me,” said Leon, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, the sight of you is one of the chief things,” said + Reginald, with a sneer. “After having heard your sad fate, it is something + to see you here in the flesh.” + </p> + <p> + “It's that infernal porter!” cried Leon, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Do you blame him for letting me in—<i>me</i>—Reginald + Dudleigh-your elder brother?” + </p> + <p> + “You're disinherited,” growled Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Reginald. “How can the eldest son be disinherited? But I'm + not going to waste time. I have come to call you to account for what you + have done, and I have that to say to you which you must hear, and, what is + more, you must obey.” + </p> + <p> + If Leon's face could have grown whiter than it already was, it would have + become so at these words. His fear seemed swallowed up in a wild + overmastering rush of fury and indignation. He started back and seized the + bell-rope. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know you!” he almost yelled. “Who are you!” Saying this he pulled + the bell-rope again and again. “Who are you?” he repeated over and over + again, pulling the bell-rope as he spoke. “I'll have you turned out. + You're an infernal impostor! Who are you? I can prove that Reginald + Dudleigh is dead. I'll have you turned out. I'll have you turned out.” + </p> + <p> + While he was speaking, his frantic and repeated tugs at the bell had + roused the house. Outside the rush of footsteps was heard, and soon a + crowd of servants poured into the room. + </p> + <p> + “You scoundrels!” roared Leon. “What do you mean by letting strangers in + here in this way? Put this fellow out! Put him out! Curse you! why don't + you collar him and put him out?” + </p> + <p> + As the servants entered, Reginald turned half round and faced them. Leon + shouted out these words, and shook his fist toward his brother, while the + servants stared in amazement at the astonishing spectacle. The two + brothers stood there before them, the one calm and self-possessed, the + other infuriated with excitement; but the wonderful resemblance between + them held the servants spell-bound. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he could make himself heard Reginald spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the kind. Most of you are new faces, but some of + you remember me. Holder,” said he, as his eyes wandering over the faces + before him, rested upon one, “don't you know your young master? Have you + forgotten Reginald Dudleigh?” + </p> + <p> + As he said this an old man came forth from the rear and looked at him, + with his hands clasped together and his eyes full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Lord be merciful to us all,” he cried with a trembling voice, “if it + beant Master Reginald hisself come back to life again and me mournin' over + him as dead! Oh Master Reginald, but it's glad I am this day. And where + have ye been?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, old man,” said Reginald, kindly; “you'll know soon enough.” + Saying this, he shook the old man's hand, and then turned with lowering + brow once more upon Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Leon,” said he, “none of this foolery, You found out what I am when you + were a boy. None of this hysterical excitement. <i>I</i> am master here.” + </p> + <p> + But Leon made no reply. With his face now on fire with rage, he retreated + a few steps and looked under the table. He called quickly to something + that was there, and as he called, a huge dog came forth and stood by his + side. This dog he led forward, and pointed at Reginald. + </p> + <p> + The servants looked on with pale faces at this scene, overcome with horror + as they saw Leon's purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Leon, fiercely, to Reginald, “or you'll be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald said nothing, but put his hand into his breast pocket and drew + forth a revolver. It was not a very common weapon in England in those + days, but Reginald had picked one up in his wanderings, and had brought it + with him on the present occasion. Leon, however, did not seem to notice + it. He was intent on one purpose, and that was to drive Reginald away. + </p> + <p> + He therefore put his hand on the dog's head, and, pointing toward his + brother, shouted, “At him, Sir!” The dog hesitated for a moment. His + master called again. The huge brute gathered himself up. One more cry from + the now frenzied Leon, and the dog gave a tremendous leap forward full at + Reginald's throat. + </p> + <p> + A cry of horror burst from the servants. They were by no means + oversensitive, but this scene was too terrible. + </p> + <p> + The dog sprang. + </p> + <p> + But at that instant the loud report of Reginald's revolver rang through + the house, and the fierce beast, with a sharp howl, fell back, and lay on + the floor writhing in his death agony. The wound was a mortal one. + </p> + <p> + Reginald replaced his pistol in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry for the poor beast,” said he, as he looked at the dog for a + moment, “but I could not help it. And you,” he continued, turning to the + servants, “go down stairs. When I want you I will call for you. Holder + will tell you who I am.” + </p> + <p> + At this the servants all retreated, overawed by the look and manner of + this new master. + </p> + <p> + The shot of the pistol seemed to have overwhelmed Leon. He shrank back, + and stared by turns at Reginald and the dog, with a white face and a + scowling-brow. + </p> + <p> + After the servants had gone, Reginald walked up to him. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: THE FIERCE BEAST, WITH A SHARP HOWL, FELL BACK.} + </p> + <p> + “I will have no more words,” said he, fiercely. “I'm your master now, + Leon, as I always have been. You are in my power now. You must either do + as I bid you, or else go to jail. I have taken up all your notes; I have + paid more than forty thousand pounds, and I now hold those notes of yours. + I do not intend to let you go till you do what I wish. If you don't, I + will take you from this place and put you in jail. I have warrants all + ready, and in the proper hands. The officers are waiting in the + neighborhood. Besides these claims, I shall have charges against you of a + graver kind; you know what, so that you can not escape. Now listen. I am + your only creditor now, and your only accuser. You need not hide any + longer, or fly from the country. Confess; come to terms with me, and you + shall be a free man; refuse, and you shall suffer the very worst that the + law inflicts. If you do not come to terms with me, you are lost. I give + you only this chance. You can do nothing. You can not harm Miss Dalton + now, for I have found you out, and your miserable trick is of no use any + longer. Come, now; decide at once. I will give you just ten minutes. If + you come to terms, you are safe; if not, you go to jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Who'll take me!” said Leon, in a surly voice. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>,” said Reginald—“<i>I</i>, with my own hands. I will take + you out of this place, and hand you over to the officers who are waiting + not very far away.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Reginald looked at his watch, and then replacing it, turned + once more to Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Your tricks have failed. I will produce you as you are, and Miss Dalton + will be safe. You'll have to explain it all in court, so you may as well + explain it to me. I don't want to be hard with you. I know you of old, and + have forgiven other villainies of yours. You can't take vengeance on any + one. Even your silence will be of no use. You must choose between a + confession to me now, or a general confession in court. Besides, even if + you could have vengeance, it wouldn't be worth so much to a man like you + as what I offer you. I offer you freedom. I will give you back all your + notes and bonds. You will be no longer in any danger. More, I will help + you. I don't want to use harsh measures if I can help it. Don't be a fool. + Do as I say, and accept my offer. If you don't, I swear, after what you've + done I'll show you no more mercy than I showed your dog.” + </p> + <p> + Leon was silent. His face grew more tranquil. He was evidently affected by + his brother's words. He stood, in thought, with his eyes fixed on the + floor. Debt was a great evil. Danger was around him. Freedom was a great + blessing. Thus far he had been safe only because he had been in hiding. + Besides, he was powerless now, and his knowledge of Reginald, as he had + been in early life, and as he saw him now, showed him that his brother + always meant what he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you have those notes and bonds.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I know unless I paid them? I will tell you the names concerned + in most of them, and the amounts.” + </p> + <p> + And Reginald thereupon enumerated several creditors, with the amounts due + to each. By this Leon was evidently convinced. + </p> + <p> + “And you've paid them?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you'll give them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will. I am your only creditor now. I have found out and paid every debt + of yours. I did this to force you to come to term. That is all I want. You + see that this is for your interest. More, I will give you enough to begin + life on. Do you ask more than this?” + </p> + <p> + Leon hesitated for a short time longer. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he at last, “what is it that you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all I want you to tell me about that infernal trick of yours + with—the body. Whose is it? Mind you, it's of no consequence now, so + long as you are alive, and can be produced; but I wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + With some hesitation Leon informed his brother. The information which he + gave confirmed the suspicions of Miss Fortescue. He had determined to be + avenged on Edith and her father, and after that night on which Edith had + escaped he had managed to procure a body in London from some of the + body-snatchers who supplied the medical schools there. He had removed the + head, and dressed it in the clothes which he had last worn. He had taken + it to Dalton Park and put it in the well about a week after Edith's + flight. He had never gone back to his room, but had purposely left it as + it was, so as to make his disappearance the more suspicious. He himself + had contrived to raise those frequent rumors which had arisen and grown to + such an extent that they had terminated in the search at Dalton Park. + Anonymous letters to various persons had suggested to them the supposed + guilt of Edith, and the probability of the remains being found in the + well. + </p> + <p> + The horror which Reginald felt at this disclosure was largely mitigated by + the fact that he had already imagined some such proceeding as this, for he + had felt sure that it was a trick, and therefore it had only been left to + account for the trick. + </p> + <p> + The next thing which Reginald had to investigate was the mock marriage. + But here he did not choose to question Leon directly about Edith. He + rather chose to investigate that earlier marriage with Miss Fortescue. + </p> + <p> + By this time Leon's objections to confess had vanished. The inducements + which Reginald held out were of themselves attractive enough to one in his + desperate position, and, what was more, he felt that there was no + alternative. Having once begun, he seemed to grow accustomed to it, and + spoke with greater freedom. + </p> + <p> + To Reginald's immense surprise and relief, Leon informed him that the + marriage with Miss Fortescue was not a mock marriage at all. For once in + his life he had been honest. The marriage had been a real one. It was only + after the affair in the Dalton vaults that he had pretended that it was + false. He did so in order to free himself from his real wife, and gain + some control over the Dalton estate. The Rev. Mr. Porter was a bona fide + clergyman, and the marriage had been conducted in a legal manner. He had + found out that the Rev. Mr. Porter had gone to Scotland, and saw that he + could easily deceive his wife. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Reginald, “what is the reason that your wife could never find + him out? She looked over all the lists of clergymen, and wrote to all of + the name of Porter. She could not find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally enough,” said Leon, indifferently. “She supposed that he + belonged to the Church, because he used the Church service; but he was a + Presbyterian.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “When last I heard about him he was at Falkirk.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Miss Fortescue was regularly married, and is now your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “She is my wife,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + At this Reginald was silent for some time. The joy that filled his heart + at this discovery was so great that for a time it drove away those other + thoughts, deep and dread, that had taken possession of him. But these + thoughts soon returned. + </p> + <p> + “One thing more,” said he, in an anxious voice. “Leon, where is my + mother?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV. — THE SONS AND THEIR FATHER. + </h2> + <h4> + “Where is my mother?” + </h4> + <p> + Such was Reginald's last question. He asked it as though Lady Dudleigh was + only <i>his</i> mother, and not the mother of Leon also. But the + circumstances of his past life had made his father and his brother seem + like strangers, and his mother seemed all his own. + </p> + <p> + At this question Leon stared at him with a look of surprise that was + evidently unfeigned. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I do not say <i>our</i> mother,” said Reginald. “I say <i>my</i> mother. + Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear I know nothing about her,” said Leon, earnestly. “I have never + seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never seen her?” repeated Reginald, in a tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Leon; “that is, not since she left this place ten years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw her at Dalton Hall!” cried Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “At Dalton Hall? I did not,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dunbar, she called herself. You saw her often.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dunbar! Good Heavens!” cried Leon, in unaffected surprise. “How was + I to know that?” + </p> + <p> + Reginald looked at him gloomily and menacingly. + </p> + <p> + “Leon,” said he, in a stern voice, “if you dare to deceive me about this, + I will show no mercy. You must tell <i>all</i>—yes, <i>all</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you I don't know any thing about her,” said Leon; “I swear I + don't. I'll tell every thing that I know. No such person has ever been + here.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald looked at his brother with a gloomy frown; but Leon's tone seemed + sincere, and the thought came to him that his brother could have no reason + for concealment. If Leon did not know, he would have to seek what he + wished from another—his father. His father and his mother had gone + off together; that father alone could tell. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Sir Lionel?” asked Reginald, as these thoughts came to him. He + called him “Sir Lionel.” He could not call him “father.” + </p> + <p> + Leon looked at him with a strange expression. + </p> + <p> + “He is here,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I find him? I want to see him at once. Is he in his room?” + </p> + <p> + Leon hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” said Reginald, impatiently. “Why don't you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get much satisfaction out of him,” said Leon, in a peculiar + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I'll find out what he knows. I'll tear the secret out of him,” cried + Reginald, fiercely. “Where is he? Come with me. Take me to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll find it rather hard to get any thing out of him,” said Leon, with + a short laugh. “He's beyond even your reach, and your courts of law too.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” cried Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may see for yourself,” said Leon. “You won't be satisfied, I + suppose, unless you do. Come along. You needn't be alarmed. I won't run. + I'll stick to my part of our agreement, if you stick to yours.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Leon led the way out of the library, and Reginald + followed. They went up a flight of stairs and along a hall to the extreme + end. Here Leon stopped at a door, and proceeded to take a key from his + pocket. This action surprised Reginald. He remembered the room well. In + his day it had not been used at all, except on rare occasions, and had + been thus neglected on account of its gloom and dampness. + </p> + <p> + “What's the meaning of this?” he asked, gloomily, looking suspiciously at + the key. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you'll see soon enough,” said Leon. + </p> + <p> + With these words he inserted the key in the lock as noiselessly as + possible, and then gently turned the bolt. Having done this, he opened the + door a little, and looked in with a cautions movement. These proceedings + puzzled Reginald still more, and he tried in vain to conjecture what their + object might be. + </p> + <p> + One cautious look satisfied Leon. He opened the door wider, and said, in a + low voice, to his brother, + </p> + <p> + “Come along; he's quiet just now.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he entered, and held the door for Reginald to pass + through. Without a moment's hesitation Reginald went into the room. He + took but one step, and then stopped, rooted to the floor by the sight that + met his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The room was low, and had no furniture but an iron bed. There were two + small, deep windows, over which the ivy had grown so closely that it + dimmed the light, and threw an air of gloom over the scene. + </p> + <p> + Upon the iron bed was seated a strange figure, the sight of which sent a + thrill of horror through Reginald's frame. It was a thin, emaciated + figure, worn and bent. His hair was as white as snow; his beard and + mustache were short and stubbly, as though they were the growth of but a + few weeks; while his whiskers were bushy and matted together. + </p> + <p> + Over this figure a quilt was thrown in a fantastic manner, under which + appeared a long night-gown, from which thin bare legs protruded, with + bare, gaunt, skeleton-like feet. + </p> + <p> + As he sat there his eyes wandered about on vacancy; a silly smile was on + his white, worn face; he kept muttering to himself continually some + incoherent and almost inaudible sentences; and at the same time his long + bony fingers kept clawing and picking at the quilt which covered him. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “UPON THE IRON BED WAS SEATED A STRANGE FIGURE."} + </p> + <p> + At first Reginald could scarce believe what he saw; but there was the fact + before his eyes, and the terrible truth could not be denied that in this + wretched creature before him was the wreck of that one who but a short + time before had seemed to him to be a powerful and unscrupulous villain, + full of the most formidable plans for inflicting fresh wrongs upon those + whom he had already so foully injured. Reginald had seen him for a few + moments at the trial, and had noticed that the ten eventful years for + which they had been parted had made but little difference in his + appearance. The casual glimpses of him which he afterward had caught + showed some change, but nothing very striking; but now the change was + terrible, the transformation was hideous; the strong man had become a + shattered wreck; the once vigorous mind had sunk into a state of helpless + imbecility and driveling idiocy. + </p> + <p> + Leon shut the door, and turning the key, stood looking on. The slight + noise which he made attracted the wandering gaze of the madman. He started + slightly, and stood up, wrapping the quilt carefully around him. Then, + with a silly smile, he advanced a few paces. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dr. Morton,” he said, in a weak, quavering voice, “you have + received my letter, I hope. Here is this person that I wrote about. Her + name is Mrs. Dunbar. She is an old dependent. She is mad—ha, ha!—mad. + Yes, mad, doctor. She thinks she is my wife. She calls herself Lady + Dudleigh. But, doctor, her real name is Mrs. Dunbar. She is mad, doctor—mad—mad—mad. + Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + At these words a terrible suspicion came to Reginald's mind. The madman + had still prominent in his thoughts the idea which he had lately been + carrying out. Could there be any truth in these words, or were they mere + fancies? He said not a word, but looked and listened in anxious silence. + He had felt a moment's pity for this man, who, wretch though he had been, + was still his father; but now his mother's image rose before him—his + mother, pale, suffering, and perhaps despairing—and in his eager + desire to learn her fate, all softer feelings for his father died out. + </p> + <p> + “You must keep her, Dr. Morton,” said Sir Lionel, in the same tone. “You + know what she wants. I will pay you well. Money is no object. You must + keep her close—close—yes, close as the grave. She is + incurable, doctor. She must never come out of this place with her mad + fancies. For she is mad—mad—mad—mad—mad. Oh yes. + Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel then smiled as before, and chuckled to himself, while a leer of + cunning triumph flashed for a moment from his wandering eyes. “Trapped!” + he ejaculated, softly. “Trapped! The keeper! The keeper trapped! She + thought she was my keeper! And so she was. But she was trapped—yes, + trapped. The keeper trapped! Ha, ha, ha! She thought it was an inn,” he + continued, after a brief silence, in which he chuckled to himself over the + remembrance of his scheme; “and so she was trapped. The keeper was caught + herself, and found herself in a mad-house! And she'll never get out—never! + She's mad. They'll all believe it. Mad! Yes, mad—and in a mad-house! + Ha, ha, ha! There's Lady Dudleigh for you! But she's Mrs. Dunbar now. Ha, + ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + Reginald's eagerness to learn more was uncontrollable. In his impatience + to find out he could no longer wait for his father's stray confessions. + </p> + <p> + “What mad-house? Where?” he asked, eagerly and abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lionel did not look at him. But the question came to him none the + less. It came to him as if it had been prompted by his own thoughts, and + he went on upon the new idea which this question started. + </p> + <p> + “She saw me write it, too—the letter—and she saw me write the + address. There it was as plain as day—the address. Dr. Morton, I + wrote, Lichfield Asylum, Lichfield, Berks. But she didn't look at it. She + helped me put it in the post-office. Trapped! Trapped! Oh yes—the + keeper trapped!” he continued. “She thought we were going to Dudleigh + Manor, but we were going to Lichfield Asylum. And we stopped there. And + she stopped there. And she is there now. Trapped! Ha, ha, ha! And, my good + doctor, keep her close, for she's mad. Oh yes—mad—mad—mad—and + very dangerous!” + </p> + <p> + The wretched man now began to totter from weakness, and finally sat down + upon the floor. Here he gathered his quilt about him, and began to smile + and chuckle and wag his head and pick at his fantastic dress as before. + The words which he muttered were inaudible, and those which could be heard + were utterly incoherent. The subject that had been presented to his mind + by the entrance of Reginald was now forgotten, and his thoughts wandered + at random, like the thoughts of a feverish dream, without connection and + without meaning. + </p> + <p> + Reginald turned away. He could no longer endure so painful a spectacle. He + had been long estranged from his father, and he had come home for the sake + of obtaining justice from that father, for the sake of the innocent man + who had suffered so unjustly and so terribly, and whom he loved as a + second father. Yet here there was a spectacle which, if he had been a + vengeful enemy, would have filled him with horror. One only feeling was + present in his mind now to alleviate that horror, and this was a sense of + profound relief that this terrible affliction had not been wrought by any + action of his. He had no hand in it. It had come upon his father either as + the gradual result of years of anxiety, or as the immediate effect of the + sudden appearance of Dalton and his wife. + </p> + <p> + But for these thoughts there was no leisure. His whole mind was filled + with but one idea—his mother. In a few moments they were outside the + room. The madman was left to himself, and Reginald questioned Leon about + him. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all this before,” said Leon. “He came home very queer, and + before a week was this way. I put him in there to keep him out of + mischief. I feed him myself. No one else goes near him. I've had a doctor + up, but he could do nothing. He has often talked in this way about + trapping someone, but he never mentioned any name till today. He never did—I + swear he never did. I swear I had no idea that he had reference to my—to + Lady Dudleigh. I thought it was some crazy fancy about Mr. Dalton—some + scheme of his for 'trapping' him. I did—I swear.” + </p> + <p> + Such was Leon's statement, extorted from him by the fiercest of + cross-questionings on the part of Reginald, accompanied by most savage + threats. + </p> + <p> + Leon, however, swore that he thought it referred to a scheme of his + father's to “trap” Dalton, and shut him up in a mad-house. If it was true + that no names had been mentioned, Reginald saw that it was quite possible + that Leon might have supposed what he said, though his knowledge of his + brother did not lead him to place any particular confidence in his + statement, even when accompanied by an oath. + </p> + <p> + It now remained to find out, without delay, the place which the madman had + revealed. Reginald remembered it well: <i>Dr. Morton, Lichfield Asylum, + Lichfield, Berks.</i> Leon also said that the same name had been always + mentioned. There could not, therefore, be any mistake about this, and it + only remained to find out where it was. + </p> + <p> + Leon knew both the man and the place, and told all that he knew, not + because he had a particle of affection for his mother, but because he + wished to satisfy Reginald, so as to gain that freedom which his brother + only could give him. He had been the intimate confidant of his father, and + this Dr. Morton had been connected with them previously in another affair. + He was therefore able to give explicit information about the place, and + the quickest manner of reaching it. + </p> + <p> + Reginald set off that very day. + </p> + <p> + “It will be better for you to stay here,” said he to Leon, as he was + leaving, in a significant tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll stay,” said Leon. “If you act square, that's all I want. Give me + those notes and bonds, and I'll never trouble you or yours again.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving he obtained from Leon further information about his first + marriage with Miss Fortescue. This he communicated to Leon's wife, whom he + found waiting for him in great suspense. As soon as she heard it she set + out for London to find the witness mentioned by Leon; after which she + intended to go to Falkirk in search of the clergyman. + </p> + <p> + After parting with Leon's wife, Reginald left by the first train, <i>en + route</i> for Dr. Morton's asylum at Lichfield, in accordance with Leon's + directions. On the middle of the following day he reached the place. + </p> + <p> + He came there accompanied by two officers of the law, who had a warrant + for the arrest of Dr. Morton on a charge of conspiracy and illegal + imprisonment. That distinguished physician came down to see his visitors, + under the impression that one of them was a patient, and was very much + surprised when he found himself under arrest. Still more surprised was he + when Reginald asked him, fiercely, after Lady Dudleigh. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments the door of Lady Dudleigh's room was flung open, and the + almost despairing inmate found herself in the arms of her son. She looked + feeble and emaciated, though not so much so as Reginald had feared. She + had known too much of the sorrows of life to yield altogether to this new + calamity. Her chief grief had been about others, the fear that they might + have become the prey of the villain who had shut her in here; but in spite + of her terrible suspense, she struggled against the gloom of her + situation, and tried to hope for release. It had come at last, and with it + came also the news that there was no longer any need for her or for + Reginald to take any proceedings against the guilty husband and father, + since he had been struck down by a more powerful arm. + </p> + <p> + When they went away, Dr. Morton was taken away also. In due time he was + tried on the charge above mentioned. He showed, however, that Lady + Dudleigh had been put under his care by Sir Lionel himself, and in the + usual way; that Sir Lionel had specified the nature of her insanity to + consist in the belief that she was his wife, and that so long as she + maintained that belief he thought her actually insane. He showed that, + apart from that confinement which he had deemed requisite, she had been + treated with no unnecessary cruelty. Many other things he also showed, by + means of which he contrived to obtain an acquittal. Still, so much came + out in the course of the trial, and so very narrow was his escape, and so + strong was his fear of being re-arrested on other charges, that he + concluded to emigrate to another country, and this he did without delay. + </p> + <p> + But Reginald returned at once with his mother to Dudleigh Manor. Here Lady + Dudleigh for a few days sank under the effects of the accumulated troubles + through which she had passed, and when at length she was able to move + about, Sir Lionel was the first one of whom she thought, and she at once + devoted herself to him. But the wretched man was already beyond the reach + of her care. His strength was failing rapidly; he refused all nourishment; + his mind was a hopeless wreck; he recognized no one; and all that was now + left to the wife to do was to watch over him and nurse him as patiently as + possible until the end, which she knew must be near. + </p> + <p> + In the excitement consequent upon his first return, his interviews with + Leon and Sir Lionel, his rescue of Lady Dudleigh, and his deep anxiety + about her after her release. Reginald had sent no word to Edith of any + kind. This arose neither from neglect nor forgetfulness, but because his + surroundings were too sad, and he had not the heart to write to her until + some brighter prospect should appear. His mother's short illness at first + alarmed him; but this passed away, and on her recovery he felt + sufficiently cheerful to send to Edith an account of all that had + occurred. + </p> + <p> + Ten days had passed since he parted with her. On the day after he wrote to + her he received a letter from her. It was the first communication that he + had received. + </p> + <p> + That letter conveyed to him awful intelligence. It informed him of the + arrest of Edith and Frederick Dalton. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV. — CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <p> + This intelligence was so terrible and so unexpected that for some time he + felt overwhelmed with utter horror. Then a dark suspicion came to him that + this was the work of Leon, who, enraged at his baffled schemes, had dealt + this last blow upon those whom he had already so deeply wronged. This + suspicion roused the utmost fury of Reginald's nature, and he hurried + forth at once to seek his brother. + </p> + <p> + He found him sauntering up and down in front of the house. Leon had + remained here ever since his interview with Reginald, in accordance with + his promise. As he now saw his brother approach, he started, and looked at + him with an expression of astonishment not unmingled with terror. + </p> + <p> + Without any preliminaries, Reginald at once assailed him with the most + vehement denunciations, and in a few burning words, fall of abhorrence and + wrath, he accused him of this new piece of villainy. + </p> + <p> + “You're wrong—you're wrong—you're altogether wrong!” cried + Leon, eagerly. “I have done nothing—I swear I've done nothing! I've + never left the place. + </p> + <p> + “You've sent word!” cried Reginald, furiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have not—I swear I haven't!” said Leon. “I haven't written a line + to any one. I've had no communication whatever with a single soul.” + </p> + <p> + “It's your work, and yours only!” cried Reginald; “and, by Heaven, you + shall suffer for it! You've broken the agreement between us, and now I'll + show you no mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't broken it! I swear by all that's most holy!” cried Leon, + earnestly. “I see how it is. This is merely the result of the old rumors—the + old work going on. I swear it is! Besides, what danger can happen to Miss + Dalton? I need only show myself. I'll go there with you at once. Can I do + more than that? When I am seen alive, there is no more danger for her. Do + you think I'd be such an infernal fool as to work out such a piece of + spite, which I would know to be utterly useless? No. I only want to wind + up the whole affair, and get my freedom. I'll go there with you or without + you, and make it all right so far as she is concerned. There. Can I do any + thing more?” + </p> + <p> + These words mollified Reginald in some degree, since they showed that, + after all, this new trouble might, as Leon said, have arisen from old + machinations, as their natural result, and did not necessarily involve any + new action on Leon's part. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” said Reginald, “and you shall go with me; but if I find that + you have played me false this time, by Heaven, I'll crush you!” + </p> + <p> + Reginald, accompanied by Leon, hurried off at once to the succor of Edith, + and arrived there on the following day. It was the fifth day of their + imprisonment, but, to Reginald's immense relief, this new misfortune did + not seem to have affected either of them so painfully as he had feared. + For to Edith imprisonment was familiar now, and this time she had the + discovery of Miss Fortescue to console her. Besides, she had her father to + think of and to care for. The kindness of the authorities had allowed the + two to be together as much as possible; and Edith, in the endeavor to + console her father, had forced herself to look on the brighter side of + things, and to hope for the best. + </p> + <p> + Dalton, too, had borne this arrest with equanimity. After the first shock + was past he thought over all that was most favorable to escape rather than + the gloomier surroundings of a situation like his. For himself he cared + nothing. To be brought once more before a court of law was desirable + rather than otherwise. His arrangements for his own vindication were all + complete, and he knew that the court could only acquit him with honor. But + about Edith he felt an anxiety which was deeper than he cared to show, for + he did not know how the evidence against her would be received. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of Reginald, however, drove away every fear. He brought the + missing man himself. All was now explained. The news ran through the + community like wildfire, and public opinion, which had so severely + prejudged Edith, now turned around with a flood of universal sympathy in + her favor. Some formalities had to be undergone, and then she was free. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances that had brought to light Edith's innocence served also + to make known the innocence, the wrongs, and the sufferings of the father. + The whole story of Dalton was made public through the exertions of + Reginald, and society, which had once condemned him, now sought to + vindicate him. But the work of vindication had to be done elsewhere, and + in a more formal manner. Until then Dalton had to wait; yet this much of + benefit he received from public sympathy, that he was allowed to go free + and live at Dalton Hall until the law should finally decide his fate. + </p> + <p> + Long before that decision Sir Lionel passed away from the judgment of man + to answer or his crimes at a higher tribunal. He passed away in his + madness, unconscious of the presence of that wife whom he had doomed to + exile, and who now, his only attendant, sought to soothe the madman's last + moments. But the measures that were taken to vindicate Dalton were + successful. Lady Dudleigh and Reginald could give their evidence in his + favor without the fear of dealing out death to one so near as Sir Lionel. + Death had already come to him, sent by a mightier power, and Dalton's + vindication involved no new anguish. So it was that Frederick Dalton was + at length cleared of that guilt that had so long clung to him; and if any + thing could atone for his past sufferings, it was the restoration of his + name to its ancient honor, the public expression of sympathy from the + court and from the world, and the deep joy of Edith over such a + termination to his sorrows. + </p> + <p> + But this was a work of time. Before this Reginald and Edith were married. + They lived at Dudleigh Manor, for the associations of Dalton Hall were too + painful, and Edith did not care to make a home in her old prison-house. To + her father, too, the Hall was distasteful as a residence, and he made his + abode with his daughter, who was now the only one on earth in whom he took + any interest. But Dalton Hall was not untenanted. Lady Dudleigh lived + there in the old home of her childhood, and passed her time in works of + charity. She made an effort to reclaim Leon, and succeeded in keeping him + with her for a few weeks; but the quiet life soon proved intolerable, and + he wandered away at length to other scenes. + </p> + <p> + Reginald had dealt faithfully and even generously by him. After all his + crimes and villainies, he could not forget that he was his brother, and he + had done all in his power to renew his life for him. He had given him all + the claims which he had collected, and thus had freed him from debt. He + had also given him money enough to enable him to start afresh in life. But + the money was soon gone, and the habits which, Leon had formed made any + change for the better impossible. He wandered away into his former + associations and became a miserable vagabond, constantly sinking down deep + into misery, to be saved for a time by his mother's assistance, but only + to sink once more. + </p> + <p> + Mention must be made of two others before this story closes. + </p> + <p> + One of these is Leon's wife. She went away from Dudleigh Manor to Scotland + in search of the clergyman who had married her. She succeeded in finding + him, and in obtaining from him a formal certificate of her marriage. This, + however, was not for the purpose of acquiring any hold whatever upon Leon, + but rather for the sake of her own honor, and also out of regard for + Edith, whom she wished to free from the last shadow of that evil which her + own deceit had thrown upon the innocent girl. After this she was + satisfied. She did not seek Leon again, nor did she ever again see him. + She retired from the world altogether, and joining a sisterhood of mercy, + devoted the remainder of her life to acts of charity and humanity. + </p> + <p> + Last of all remains Miss Plympton, with whom this story began, and with + whom it may end. That good lady recovered from the illness into which she + had fallen on account of her anxiety about Edith, and was able to visit + her not long after her release from her last imprisonment. She had given + up her school; and as she had no home, she yielded to Edith's affectionate + entreaties, and found a new home with her, where she passed the remainder + of her days. + </p> + <h4> + THE END. + </h4> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Living Link, by James De Mille + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVING LINK *** + +***** This file should be named 8711-h.htm or 8711-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/1/8711/ + + +Text File produced by Rich Magahiz, David Moynihan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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. + + + +</pre> + + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/lvlnk10.txt b/old/lvlnk10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7080d47 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lvlnk10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16304 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Living Link, by James De Mille +#3 in our series by James De Mille + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Living Link + +Author: James De Mille + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8711] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 3, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVING LINK *** + + + + +Produced by Rich Magahiz, David Moynihan +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE LIVING LINK. + +A Novel. + +BY JAMES DE MILLE, + +Author of "The Dodge Club," "Cord and Creese," "The Cryptogram," "The +American Baron," &c, &c. + + + +THE LIVING LINK. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A TERRIBLE SECRET. + +On a pleasant evening in the month of May, 1840, a group of young ladies +might have been seen on the portico of Plympton Terrace, a fashionable +boarding-school near Derwentwater. They all moved about with those +effusive demonstrations so characteristic of young girls; but on this +occasion there was a general hush among them, which evidently arose from +some unusual cause. As they walked up and down arm in arm, or with arms +entwined, or with clasped hands, as young girls will, they talked in low +earnest tones over some one engrossing subject, or occasionally gathered +in little knots to debate some point, in which, while each offered a +differing opinion, all were oppressed by one common sadness. + +While they were thus engaged there arose in the distance the sound of a +rapidly galloping horse. At once all the murmur of conversation died +out, and the company stood in silence awaiting the new-comer. They did +not have to wait long. Out from a place where the avenue wound amidst +groves and thickets a young girl mounted on a spirited bay came at full +speed toward the portico. Arriving there, she stopped abruptly; then +leaping lightly down, she flung the reins over the horse's neck, who +forthwith galloped away to his stall. + +The rider who thus dismounted was young girl of about eighteen, and of +very striking appearance. Her complexion was dark, her hair black, with +its rich voluminous folds gathered in great glossy plaits behind. Her +eyes were of a deep hazel color, radiant, and full of energetic life. In +those eyes there was a certain earnestness of expression, however, +deepening down into something that seemed like melancholy, which showed +that even in her young life she had experienced sorrow. Her figure was +slender and graceful, being well displayed by her close-fitting +riding-habit, while a plumed hat completed her equipment, and served to +heighten the effect of her beauty. + +At her approach a sudden silence had fallen over the company, and they +all stood motionless, looking at her as she dismounted. + +"Why, what makes you all look at me so strangely?" she asked, in a tone +of surprise, throwing a hasty glance over them. "Has any thing +happened?" + +To this question no answer was given, but each seemed waiting for the +other to speak. At length a little thing of about twelve came up, and +encircling the new-comer's waist with her arm, looked up with a +sorrowful expression, and whispered, + +"Edith dearest, Miss Plympton wants to see you." + +The silence and ominous looks of the others, and the whispered words of +the little girl, together with her mournful face, increased the surprise +and anxiety of Edith. She looked with a strange air of apprehension +over the company. + +"What is it?" she asked, hurriedly. "Something has happened. Do any of +you know? What is it?" + +She spoke breathlessly, and her eyes once more wandered with anxious +inquiry over all of them. But no one spoke, for, whatever it was, they +felt the news to be serious--something, in fact, which could not well be +communicated by themselves. Once more Edith repeated her question, and +finding that no answer was forth-coming, her impatience allowed her to +wait no longer; and so, gathering up her long skirts in one hand and +holding her whip in the other, she hurried into the house to see Miss +Plympton. + +Miss Plympton's room was on the second floor, and that lady herself was +seated by the window as Edith entered. In the young girl's face there +was now a deeper anxiety, and seating herself near the centre-table, she +looked inquiringly at Miss Plympton. + +The latter regarded her for some moments in silence. + +"Did you wish to see me, auntie dear?" said Edith. + +Miss Plympton sighed. + +"Yes," she said, slowly; "but, my poor darling Edie, I hardly know how +to say to you what I have to say. I--I--do you think you can bear to +hear it, dear?" + +At this Edith looked more disturbed than ever; and placing her elbow on +the centre-table, she leaned her cheek upon her hand, and fixed her +melancholy eyes upon Miss Plympton. Her heart throbbed painfully, and +the hand against which her head leaned trembled visibly. But these signs +of agitation did not serve to lessen the emotion of the other; on the +contrary, she seemed more distressed, and quite at a loss how to +proceed. + +"Edith," said she at last, "my child, you know how tenderly I love you. +I have always tried to be a mother to you, and to save you from all +sorrow; but now my love and care are all useless, for the sorrow has +come, and I do not know any way by which I can break bad news +to--to--a--a bereaved heart." + +She spoke in a tremulous voice and with frequent pauses. + +"Bereaved!" exclaimed Edith, with white lips. "Oh, auntie! Bereaved! Is +it that? Oh, tell me all. Don't keep me in suspense. Let me know the +worst." + +Miss Plympton looked still more troubled. "I--I--don't know what to +say," she faltered. + +"You mean _death_!" cried Edith, in an excited voice; "and oh! I +needn't ask who. There's only one--only one. I had only one--only +one--and now--he is--gone!" + +"Gone," repeated Miss Plympton, mechanically, and she said no more; for +in the presence of Edith's grief, and of other facts which had yet to be +disclosed--facts which would reveal to this innocent girl something +worse than even bereavement--words were useless, and she could find +nothing to say. Her hand wandered through the folds of her dress, and +at length she drew forth a black-edged letter, at which she gazed in an +abstracted way. + +"Let me see it," cried Edith, hurriedly and eagerly; and before Miss +Plympton could prevent her, or even imagine what she was about, she +darted forward and snatched the letter from her hand. Then she tore it +open and read it breathlessly. The letter was very short, and was +written in a stiff, constrained hand. It was as follows: + +"DALTON HALL, _May_ 6, 1840. + +"Madame,--It is my painful duty to communicate to you the death of +Frederick Dalton, Esq., of Dalton Hall, who died at Hobart Town, Van +Diemen's Land, on the 2d of December, 1839. I beg that you will impart +this intelligence to Miss Dalton, for as she is now of age, she may wish +to return to Dalton Hall. + +"I remain, madame, +"Your most obedient servant, +"JOHN WIGGINS. +"MISS PLYMPTON, _Plympton Terrace_." + +Of this letter Edith took in the meaning of the first three lines only. +Then it dropped from her trembling hands, and sinking into a chair, she +burst into a torrent of tears. Miss Plympton regarded her with a face +full of anxiety, and for some moments Edith wept without restraint; but +at length, when the first outburst of grief was past, she picked up the +letter once more and read it over and over. + +Deep as Edith's grief evidently was, this bereavement was not, after +all, so sore a blow as it might have been under other circumstances. +For this father whom she had lost was virtually a stranger. Losing her +mother at the age of eight, she had lived ever since with Miss Plympton, +and during this time her father had never seen her, nor even written to +her. Once or twice she had written to him a pretty childish letter, but +he had never deigned any reply. If in that unknown nature there had been +any thing of a father's love, no possible hint had ever been given of +it. Of her strange isolation she was never forgetful, and she felt it +most keenly during the summer holidays, when all her companions had gone +to their homes. At such times she brooded much over her loneliness, and +out of this feeling there arose a hope, which she never ceased to +cherish, that the time would come when she might join her father, and +live with him wherever he might be, and set herself to the task of +winning his affections. + +She had always understood that her father had been living in the East +since her mother's death. The only communication which she had with him +was indirect, and consisted of business letters which his English agent +wrote to Miss Plympton. These were never any thing more than short, +formal notes. Such neglect was keenly felt, and Edith, unwilling to +blame her father altogether, tried to make some one else responsible for +it. As she knew of no other human being who had any connection with her +father except this agent, she brought herself gradually to look upon him +as the cause of her father's coldness, and so at length came to regard +him with a hatred that was unreasoning and intense. She considered him +her father's evil genius, and believed him to be somehow at the bottom +of the troubles of her life. Thus every year this man, John Wiggins, +grew more hateful, and she accustomed herself to think of him as an evil +fiend, a Mephistopheles, by whose crafty wiles her father's heart had +been estranged from her. Such, then, was the nature of Edith's +bereavement; and as she mourned over it she did not mourn so much over +the reality as over her vanished hope. He was gone, and with him was +gone the expectation of meeting him and winning his affection. She +would never see him--never be able to tell how she loved him, and hear +him say with a father's voice that he loved his child! + +These thoughts and feelings overwhelmed Edith even as she held the +letter in her hand for a new perusal, and she read it over and over +without attaching any meaning to the words. At length her attention was +arrested by one statement in that short letter which had hitherto +escaped her notice. This was the name of the place where her father's +death had occurred--Van Diemen's Land. + +"I don't understand this," said she. "What is the meaning of this--Van +Diemen's Land? I did not know that poor papa had ever left India." + +Miss Plympton made no reply to this for some time, but looked more +troubled than ever. + +"What does it mean," asked Edith again--"this Hobart Town, Van Diemen's +Land? What does it mean?" + +"Well, dear," said Miss Plympton, in strangely gentle and mournful +voice, "you have never known much about your poor father, and you have +never known exactly where he has been living. He did not live in India, +dear; he never lived in India. He lived in--in--Van Diemen's Land." + +Miss Plympton's tone and look affected Edith very unpleasantly. The +mystery about her father seemed to grow darker, and to assume something +of an ill-omened character. The name also--Van Diemen's Land--served to +heighten her dark apprehensions; and this discovery that she had known +even less than she supposed about her father made it seem as though the +knowledge that had thus been hidden could not but be painful. + +"What do you mean?" she asked again; and her voice died down to a +whisper through the vague fears that had been awakened. "I thought that +poor papa lived in India--that he held some office under government." + +"I know that you believed so," said Miss Plympton, regarding Edith with +a look that was full of pity and mournful sympathy. "That was what I +gave out. None of the girls have ever suspected the truth. No one knows +whose daughter you really are. They do not suspect that your father was +Dalton of Dalton Hall. They think that he was an Indian resident in the +Company's service. Yes, I have kept the secret well, dear--the secret +that I promised your dear mother on her death-bed to keep from all the +world, and from you, darling, till the time should come for you to know. +And often and often, dear, have I thought of this moment, and tried to +prepare for it; but now, since it has come, I am worse than unprepared. +But preparations are of no use, for oh, my darling, my own Edith, I must +speak, if I speak at all, from my heart." + +These words were spoken by Miss Plympton in a broken, disconnected, and +almost incoherent manner. She stopped abruptly, and seemed overcome by +strong agitation. Edith, on her part, looked at her in equal agitation, +wondering at her display of emotion, and terrified at the dark +significance of her words. For from those words she learned this much +already--that her father had been living in Van Diemen's Land, a penal +colony; that around him had been a dark secret which had been kept from +her most carefully; that her parentage had been concealed most +scrupulously from the knowledge of her school-mates; and that this +secret which had been so guarded was even now overwhelming Miss Plympton +so that she shrunk from communicating it. All this served to fill the +mind of Edith with terrible presentiments, and the mystery which had +hitherto surrounded her father seemed now about to result in a +revelation more terrible than the mystery itself. + +After some time Miss Plympton rose, and drawing her chair nearer, sat +down in front of Edith, and took both her hands. + +"My poor darling Edith," said she, in pitying tones, "I am anxious for +you. You are not strong enough for this. Your hands are damp and cold. +You are trembling. I would not have brought up this subject now, but I +have been thinking that the time has come for telling you all. But I'm +afraid it will be too much for you. You have already enough to bear +without having this in addition. You are too weak." + +Edith shook her head. + +"Can you bear it?" asked Miss Plympton, anxiously, "this that I wish to +tell you? Perhaps I had better defer it." + +"No," said Edith, in a forced voice. "No--now--now--tell me now. I can +bear whatever it is better than any horrible suspense." + +Miss Plympton sighed, and leaning forward, she kissed the pale forehead +of the young girl. Then, after a little further delay, during which she +seemed to be collecting her thoughts, she began: + +"I was governess once, Edith dearest, in your dear mamma's family. She +was quite a little thing then. All the rest were harsh, and treated me +like a slave; but she was like an angel, and made me feel the only real +happiness I knew in all those dreary days. I loved her dearly for her +gentle and noble nature. I loved her always, and I still love her +memory; and I love you as I loved her, and for her sake. And when she +gave you to me, on her death-bed, I promised her that I would be a +mother to you, dear. You have never known how much I love you--for I am +not demonstrative--but I do love you, my own Edith, most dearly, and I +would spare you this if I could. But, after all, it is a thing which you +must know some time, and before very long--the sooner the better." + +"I wish to know it now," said Edith, as Miss Plympton hesitated, +speaking in a constrained voice, the result of the strong pressure which +she was putting on her feelings--"now," she repeated. "I can not wait. +I must know all to-day. What was it? Was it--crime?" + +"The charge that was against him," said Miss Plympton, "involved crime. +But, my darling, you must remember always that an accusation is not the +same as a fact, even though men believe it; yes, even though the law may +condemn the accused, and the innocent may suffer. Edith Dalton," she +continued, with solemn earnestness, "I believe that your father was as +innocent as you are. Remember that! Cling to that! Never give up that +belief, no matter what you may hear. There was too much haste and blind +passion and prejudice in that court where he was tried, and appearances +were dark, and there was foul treachery somewhere; and so it was that +Frederick Dalton was done to ruin and his wife done to death. And now, +my darling, you have to make yourself acquainted not with a father's +crimes, but with a father's sufferings. You are old enough now to hear +that story, and you have sufficient independence of character to judge +for yourself, dear. There is no reason why you should be overwhelmed +when you hear it--unless, indeed, you are overcome by pity for the +innocent and indignation against his judges. Even if society considers +your father's name a stained and dishonored one, there is no reason why +his daughter should feel shame, for you may take your stand on his own +declaration of innocence, and hold up your head proudly before the +world." + +Miss Plympton spoke this with vehement emotion, and her words brought +some consolation to Edith. The horrible thought that had at first come +was that her father had been a convict in some penal settlement, but +this solemn assurance of his innocence mitigated the horror of the +thought, and changed it into pity. She said not a word, however, for her +feelings were still too strong, nor could she find voice for any words. +She sat, therefore, in silence, and waited for Miss Plympton to tell the +whole story. + +Miss Plympton surveyed Edith anxiously for a few moments, and then +rising, went over to an escritoire. This she unlocked, and taking from +it a parcel, she returned to her seat. + +"I am not going to tell you the story," said she. "I can not bear to +recall it. It is all here, and you may read it for yourself. It was all +public ten years ago, and in this package are the reports of the trial. +I have read them over so often that I almost know them by heart; and I +know, too, the haste of that trial, and the looseness of that evidence. +I have marked it in places--for your eyes only, dearest--for I prepared +it for you, to be handed to you in case of my death. My life, however, +has been preserved, and I now give this into your own hands. You must +take it to your own room, and read it all over by yourself. You will +learn there all that the world believes about your father, and will see +in his own words what he says about himself. And for my part, even if +the testimony were far stronger, I would still take the word of +Frederick Dalton!" + +Miss Plympton held out the parcel, and Edith took it, though she was +scarce conscious of the act. An awful foreboding of calamity, the +mysterious shadow of her father's fate, descended over her soul. She was +unconscious of the kiss which Miss Plympton gave her; nor was she +conscious of any thing till she found herself seated at a table in her +own room, with the door locked, and the package lying on the table +before her. She let it lie there for a few moments, for her agitation +was excessive, and she dreaded to open it; but at length she mastered +her feelings, and began to undo the strings. + +The contents of the parcel consisted of sheets of paper, upon which were +pasted columns of printed matter cut from some newspaper. It was the +report of the trial of Frederick Dalton, upon charges which ten years +before had filled the public mind with horror and curiosity. In these +days the most cursory reader who took up the report came to the work +with a mind full of vivid interest and breathless suspense; but that +report now lay before the eyes of a far different reader--one who was +animated by feelings far more intense, since it was the daughter of the +accused herself. That daughter also was one who hitherto had lived in an +atmosphere of innocence, purity, and love, one who shrank in abhorrence +from all that was base or vile; and this was the one before whose eyes +was now placed the horrible record that had been made up before the +world against her father's name. + +The printed columns were pasted in such a way that a wide margin was +left, which was covered with notes in Miss Plympton's writing. To give +any thing like a detailed account of this report, with the annotations, +is out of the question, nor will any thing be necessary beyond a general +summary of the facts therein stated. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +THE CONTENTS OF THE MANUSCRIPT. + +On the date indicated in the report, then, the city of Liverpool and the +whole country were agitated by the news of a terrible murder. On the +road-side near Everton the dead body of a Mr. Henderson, an eminent +banker, had been found, not far from his own residence. The discovery +had been made at about eleven o'clock in the evening by some passers-by. +Upon examination a wound was found in the back of the head which had +been caused by a bullet. His watch and purse were still in their places, +but his pocket-book was gone. Clasped in one of the hands was a +newspaper, on the blank margin of which were some red letters, rudely +traced, and looking as though they had been written with blood. The +letters were these: + +"DALTON SHOT ME BEC--" + +It was evident that the writer intended to write the word "because," and +give the reason why he had been shot, but that his strength had failed +in the middle of the word. + +A closer search revealed some other things. One was a small stick, the +point of which was reddened with a substance which microscopic +examination afterward showed to be blood. The other was a scarf-pin made +of gold, the head of which consisted of a Maltese cross, of very rich +and elegant design. In the middle was black enamel inclosed by a richly +chased gold border, and at the intersection of the bars was a small +diamond of great splendor. If this cross belonged to the murderer it had +doubtless become loosened, and fallen out while he was stooping over his +victim, and the loss had not been noticed in the excitement of the +occasion. + +At the coroner's inquest various important circumstances were brought to +light. The fact that his watch and purse remained made it plain that it +was not a case of common highway robbery, and the loss of the +pocket-book showed that the deed was prompted by a desire for something +more than ordinary plunder. Proceeding from this, various circumstances +arose which, in addition to the terrible accusation traced in blood, +tended to throw suspicion upon Frederick Dalton. + +It came out that on the morning of that very day Mr. Henderson had +discovered a check for two thousand pounds that had been forged in his +name. Being a very choleric man, he felt more than the anger which is +natural under such circumstances, and vowed vengeance to the uttermost +upon the forger. That same morning Mr. Frederick Dalton came to see him, +and was shown into his private office. He had just arrived in the city, +and had come on purpose to pay this visit. The interview was a +protracted one, and the clerks outside heard the voice of Mr. Henderson +in a very high key, and in a strain of what sounded like angry menace +and denunciations of vengeance, though they could not make out any +words. At last the office door opened, and Dalton came out. He was very +pale, and much agitated. One of the clerks heard him say, in a low +voice, + +"_Only one day--till this time to-morrow_." + +Whereupon Mr. Henderson roared out in a loud voice, which all the clerks +heard, + +"_No, Sir! Not one day, not one hour, if I die for it!_" + +Upon this Dalton walked away, looking paler and more agitated than ever. + +In the course of the day Mr. Henderson told his confidential clerk that +the check had just been used by Dalton, who, however, denied that he was +the forger; that the visit of Dalton professed to be on behalf of the +guilty party, whom he wished to screen. Dalton had refused to give the +culprit's name, and offered to pay the amount of the check, or any +additional sum whatever, if no proceedings were taken. This, however, +Mr. Henderson refused, and in his indignation charged Dalton himself +with the crime. Under these circumstances the interview had terminated. + +Thus the evidence against Dalton was the forged check, the clerks' +reports concerning the exciting interview with Mr. Henderson, the awful +accusation of the deceased himself, written in his own blood, together +with the Maltese cross, which was believed to belong to Dalton. The +arrest of Dalton had been made at the earliest possible moment; and at +the trial these were the things which were made use of against him by +the prosecution. By energetic efforts discovery was made of a jeweler +who recognized the Maltese cross as his own work, and swore that he had +made it for Frederick Dalton, in accordance with a special design +furnished him by that gentleman. The design had been kept in his +order-book ever since, and was produced by him in court. Thus the +testimony of the jeweler and the order-book served to fix the ownership +of the Maltese cross upon Dalton in such a way that it corroborated and +confirmed all the other testimony. + +On the other hand, the defense of Dalton took up all these points. In +the first place, it was shown that in his case there was no conceivable +temptation that could have led to the commission of such a crime. He was +a man of great wealth, possessed of a fine estate, and free from all +pecuniary embarrassments. He was not what was called a sporting man, +and therefore could not have secretly accumulated debts while appearing +rich. It was shown, also, that his character was stainless; that he was +essentially a domestic man, living quietly at Dalton Hall with his wife +and child, and therefore, from his worldly means as well as from his +personal character and surroundings, it was morally impossible for him +to have forged the check. + +With reference to the interview with Mr. Henderson, it was maintained +that it arose, as he himself said, from a desire to shield the real +culprit, whom he knew, and for whom he felt a strong and unusual regard. +Who this culprit was the defense did not assert, nor could they imagine, +though they tried every possible way of finding him out. Whoever he was, +he appeared to be the only one who could have had a motive strong enough +for the murder of Mr. Henderson. The unknown assassin had evidently done +the deed so as to obtain possession of the forged check, and prevent its +being used against him. In this he was unsuccessful, since the check had +already been intrusted to the hands of others; but the aim of the +assassin was sufficiently evident. + +Again, as to the writing in blood, a vigorous effort was made to show +that this was a conspiracy against an innocent man. It was argued that +Mr. Henderson did not write it at all; and efforts were made to prove +that the wound in his head must have caused instantaneous death. He +himself, therefore, could not have written it, but it must have been the +work of some one who was plotting against Dalton, or who was eager to +divert suspicion from himself. + +The testimony of the Maltese cross was met by counter-testimony to the +effect that Dalton had never worn such an ornament. His servants all +swore that they had never seen it before. Mr. Henderson's clerks also +swore that Mr. Dalton wore no pin at all on that morning of the +interview. + +And, finally, an effort was made to prove an _alibi_. It was shown +that Dalton's occupation of his time during that evening could be +accounted for with the exception of one hour. Witnesses were produced +from the hotel where he put up who swore that he had been there until +eight o'clock in the evening, when he left, returning at nine. An hour, +therefore, remained to be accounted for. As to this hour--on the one +hand, it seemed hardly sufficient for the deed, but yet it was certainly +possible for him to have done it within that time; and thus it remained +for the defense to account for that hour. For this purpose a note was +produced, which was scribbled in pencil and addressed to John Wiggins, +Esq. + +It was as follows: + +"Dear Wiggins,--I have been here ever since eight, and am tired of +waiting. Come to my room as soon as you get back. I'll be there. + +Yours, F. DALTON." + +Mr. John Wiggins testified that he had made an appointment to meet +Dalton at the hour mentioned in the note, but had been detained on +business until late. He had found this on his return thrust under the +office door. On going to see him the following morning he had learned of +his arrest. + +This note and the testimony of Wiggins were felt to bear strongly in +Dalton's favor. If the accused had really been waiting at the office, +as the note stated, then clearly he could not have followed on Mr. +Henderson's track to Everton. The force of this weighed more than any +thing else with the court; the summing up of the judge also bore +strongly toward an acquittal; and, consequently, Dalton was declared not +guilty. + +But the acquittal on this first charge did not at all secure the escape +of Dalton from danger. Another charge, which had been interwoven with +the first, still impended over him, and no sooner was he declared free +of murder than he was arrested on the charge of forgery, and remanded to +prison to await his trial on that accusation. + +Now during the whole course of the trial the public mind had been +intensely excited; all men were eager than vengeance should fall on some +one, and at the outset had made up their minds that Dalton was guilty. +The verdict of acquittal created deep and widespread dissatisfaction, +for it seemed as though justice had been cheated of a victim. When, +therefore, the trial for forgery came on, there weighed against Dalton +all the infamy that had been accumulating against him during the trial +for murder. Had this trial stood alone, the prisoner's counsel might +have successfully pleaded his high character, as well as his wealth, +against this charge, and shown that it was false because it was morally +impossible. But this was no longer of avail, and in the public mind +Frederick Dalton was deemed only a desperate murderer, whose good +reputation was merely the result of life-long hypocrisy, and whose +character was but an empty name. + +And so in this trial it was shown that Dalton had first put forth the +forged check, and afterward learning that it was discovered prematurely, +had hurried to Liverpool so as to get it back from Mr. Henderson. His +asserted wealth was not believed in. Efforts were made to show that he +had been connected with men of desperate fortunes, and had himself been +perhaps betting heavily; and all this arts which ate usually employed by +unscrupulous or excited advocates to crush an accused man were freely +put forth. Experts were brought from London to examine Dalton's +handwriting, and compare it with that of the forged check; and these men +yielding to the common prejudice, gave it as their opinion that he was, +or _might have been_(!), the author of the forgery. + +But all this was as nothing when compared with the injury which Dalton +himself did to his own cause by the course which he chose to adopt. +Contenting himself with the simple assertion of his innocence, he +refused to give the name of the guilty man, or to say any thing that +might lead to his discovery. Actuated by a lofty sense of honor, a +chivalrous sentiment of loyalty and friendship, he kept the secret with +obstinate fidelity; and the almost frantic appeals of his counsel, who +saw in the discovery of the real offender the only chance for the escape +of the accused, and who used every possible argument to shake his +resolve, availed not in the slightest degree to shake his firmness. +They employed detectives, and instituted inquiries in all directions in +the endeavor to find out who might be this friend for whom Dalton was +willing to risk honor and life; but their search was completely baffled. +Dalton's silence was therefore taken as an evidence of guilt, and his +refusal to confess on a friend was regarded as a silly attempt to excite +public sympathy. When the counsel ventured to bring this forward to the +jury, and tried to portray Dalton as a man who chose rather to suffer +than to say that which might bring a friend to destruction, it was +regarded as a wild, Quixotic, and maudlin piece of sentimentalism on the +part of said counsel, and was treated by the prosecution with +unspeakable scorn and ridicule. Under such circumstances the result was +inevitable: Frederick Dalton was declared guilty, and sentenced to +transportation for life. + +Among the notes which had been written by Miss Plympton, Edith was very +forcibly struck by some which referred to John Wiggins. + +"Who is this J.W.?" was written in one place. "How did F.D. become +acquainted with him?" + +In another place, where Wiggins gave his testimony about the note, was +written: "Where was J.W. during that hour? Had he gone to Everton +himself?" + +And again: "J.W. was the friend of F.D., and wished to save him. Might +he not have done more?" + +Again: "Mark well! J.W. is a Liverpool man. H. was a Liverpool man. Had +F.D. ever heard of even the name of H. before the forgery? What was the +nature of the dealings between F.D. and J.W.?" + +Again, when Dalton's silence was so sharply commented on and urged as +proof of his guilt, there occurred the following: "If F.D. was silent, +why did not J.W. open his mouth? Must he not have known at least +something? Could he not have set the authorities upon the track of the +real criminal, and thus have saved F.D.?" + +Again: "The Maltese cross did not belong to Dalton. He had ordered it to +be made. For whom? Was it not for this same friend for whom he was now +suffering? Was not this friend the murderer? Has he not thrown suspicion +upon F.D. by that writing in blood? The same one who committed the +murder wrote the false charge, and left the Maltese cross." + +Other notes of similar character occurred in various places, but those +which impressed Edith most were the following: + +"F.D. was evidently betrayed by his false friend. Was not that false +friend the real murderer? Did he not contrive to throw on F.D. the +suspicion of the murder? Might not the forgery itself from the very +beginning have been part of a plan to ruin F.D.? But why ruin him? +Evidently to gain some benefit. Now who has been more benefited by the +ruin of F.D.? Whoever he is, must he not he be the murderer and the +false friend?" + +Again, a little further on: "Has any one gained any thing from the ruin +of F.D. but J.W.? Has not J.W. ever since had control of Dalton +property? Is he not rich now? Has not the ruin of F.D. made the fortune +of J.W.?" + +Such was the substance of the papers which Edith perused. They were +voluminous, and she continued at her task all through that night, her +heart all the time filled with a thousand contending emotions. + +Before her mind all the time there was the image of her father in the +judgment-hall. There he stood, the innocent man, betrayed by his +friend, and yet standing there in his simple faith and truth to save +that friend, obstinate in his self-sacrificing fidelity, true to faith +when the other had proved himself worthless, suffering what can only be +suffered by a generous nature as the hours and the days passed and the +end approached, and still the traitor allowed him to suffer. And there +was the hate and scorn of man, the clamor for vengeance from society, +the condemnation of the jury who had prejudged his case, the sneer of +the paid advocate, the scoff of the gaping crowd, to whom the plea of +_noblesse oblige_ and stainless honor and perfect truth seemed only +maudlin sentimentality and Quixotic extravagance. + +All these thoughts were in Edith's mind as she read, and these feelings +swelled within her indignant heart as all the facts in that dread +tragedy were slowly revealed one by one. Coming to this task with a mind +convinced at the outset of her father's innocence, she met with not one +circumstance that could shake that conviction for a moment. In her own +strong feeling she was incapable of understanding how any one could +honestly think otherwise. The testimony of adverse witnesses seemed to +her perjury, the arguments of the lawyers fiendish malignity, the last +summing up of the judge bitter prejudice, and the verdict of the jury a +mockery of justice. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +THE MOMENTOUS RESOLVE. + +Early on the following morning Miss Plympton called on Edith, and was +shocked to see the changes that had been made in her by that one night. +She did not regard so much the pallor of her face, the languor of her +manner, and her unelastic step, but rather the new expression that +appeared upon her countenance, the thoughtfulness of her brow, the deep +and earnest abstraction of her gaze. In that one night she seemed to +have stepped from girlhood to maturity. It was as though she had lived +through the intervening experience. Years had been crowded into hours. +She was no longer a school-girl--she was a woman. + +Miss Plympton soon retired, with the promise to come again when Edith +should feel stronger. Breakfast was sent up, and taken away untasted, +and at noon Miss Plympton once more made her appearance. + +"I have been thinking about many things," said Edith, after some +preliminary remarks, "and have been trying to recall what I can of my +own remembrance of papa. I was only eight years old, but I have a pretty +distinct recollection of him, and it has been strengthened by his +portrait, which I always have had. Of my mother I have a most vivid +remembrance, and I have never forgotten one single circumstance +connected with her last illness. I remember your arrival, and my +departure from home after all was over. But there is one thing which I +should like very much to ask you about. Did none of my mother's +relatives come to see her during this time?" + +"Your mother's relatives acted very badly indeed, dear. From the first +they were carried away by the common belief in your dear father's guilt. +Some of them came flying to your mother. She was very ill at the time, +and these relatives brought her the first news which she received. It +was a severe blow. They were hard-hearted or thoughtless enough to +denounce your father to her, and she in her weak state tried to defend +him. All this produced so deplorable an effect that she sank rapidly. +Her relatives left her in this condition. She tried to be carried to +your dear father in his prison, but could not bear the journey. They +took her as far as the gates, but she fainted there, and had to be taken +back to the house. So then she gave up. She knew that she was going to +die, and wrote to me imploring me to come to her. She wished to intrust +you to me. I took you from her arms--" + +Miss Plympton paused, and Edith was silent for some time. + +"So," said she, in a scarce audible voice, "darling mamma died of a +broken heart?" + +Miss Plympton, said nothing. A long silence followed. + +"Had my father no friends," asked Edith, "or no relatives?" + +"He had no relatives," said Miss Plympton, "but an only sister. She +married a Captain Dudleigh, now Sir Lionel Dudleigh. But it was a very +unhappy marriage, for they separated. I never knew the cause; and +Captain Dudleigh took it so much to heart that he went abroad. He could +not have heard of your father's misfortunes till all was over and it was +too late. But in any case I do not see what he could have done, unless +he had contrived to shake your father's resolve. As to his wife, I have +never heard of her movements, and I think she must have died long ago. +Neither she nor her husband is mentioned at the trial. If they had been +in England, it seems to me that they would have come forward as +witnesses in some way; so I think they were both out of the country. Sir +Lionel is alive yet, I think, but he has always lived out of the world. +I believe his family troubles destroyed his happiness, and made him +somewhat misanthropical. I have sometimes thought in former years that +he might make inquiries about you, but he has never done so to my +knowledge, though perhaps he has tried without being able to hear where +you were. After all, he would scarcely know where to look. On the whole, +I consider Sir Lionel the only friend you have, Edith darling, besides +myself, and if any trouble should ever arise, he would be the one to +whom I should apply for assistance, or at least advice." + +Edith listened to this, and made no comment, but after another +thoughtful pause she said, + +"About this Wiggins--have you ever heard any thing of him since the--the +trial?" + +Miss Plympton shook her head. + +"No," said she, "except from those formal business notes. You have seen +them all, and know what they are." + +"Have you ever formed any opinion of him more favorable than what you +wrote in those notes?" + +"I do not think that I wrote any thing more than suspicions or +surmises," said Miss Plympton; "and as far as suspicions are concerned, +I certainly have not changed my mind. The position which he occupied +during the trial, and ever since, excites my suspicions against him. All +others suffered; he alone was benefited. And now, too, when all is over, +he seems still in his old position--perhaps a better one than ever--the +agent of the estates, and assuming to some extent a guardianship over +you. At least he gives directions about you, for he says you are to go +back to Dalton Hall. But in that he shall find himself mistaken, for I +will never allow you to put yourself in his power." + +"Have you ever seen him?" asked Edith. + +"No." + +She bent down her head, and leaned her forehead on her hand. + +"Well," said she, in a low voice, half to herself, "it don't matter; I +shall see him soon myself." + +"See him yourself!" said Miss Plympton, anxiously. "What do you mean?" + +"Oh, I shall see him soon--when I get to Dalton Hall." + +"Dalton Hall?" + +"Yes," said Edith, simply, raising her head and looking calmly at Miss +Plympton. + +"But you are not going to Dalton Hall." + +"There is no other place for me," said Edith, sadly. "I am going--I am +going as soon as possible." + +"Oh no--oh no, darling; you are going to do nothing of the kind," said +Miss Plympton. "I can not let you go. We all love you too dearly. This +is your home, and I now stand in the place of those whom you have lost. +You are never to leave me, Edith dearest." + +Edith sighed heavily, and shook her head. + +"No," she said, speaking in a low, melancholy voice--"no, I can not +stay. I can not meet my friends here again. I am not what I was +yesterday. I am changed. It seems as though some heavy weight has come +upon me. I must go away, and I have only one place to go to, and that is +my father's home." + +"My darling," said Miss Plympton, drawing her chair close to Edith, and +twining her arms about her, "you must not talk so; you can not imagine +how you distress me. I can not let you go. Do not think of these +things. We all love you. Do not imagine that your secret will be +discovered. No one shall ever know it. In a few days you yourself will +feel different. The consciousness of your father's innocence will make +you feel more patient, and the love of all your friends will make your +life as happy as ever." + +"No," said Edith, "I can not--I can not. You can not imagine how I +dread to see the face of any one of them. I shall imagine that they know +all; and I can not tell them. They will tease me to tell them my +troubles, and it will only worry me. No, for me to stay here is +impossible. I would go any where first." + +She spoke so firmly and decisively that Miss Plympton forbore to press +her further just then. + +"At any rate, my darling," said she, "you need not think of Dalton Hall. +I can find you other places which will be far more suitable to you in +every way. If it distresses you to stay here, I can find a happy home +for you, where you can stay till you feel able to return to us again." + +"There is no place," said Edith, "where I can stay. I do not want to go +among strangers, or to strange places. I have a home, and that is the +only place that I can go to now. That home is familiar to me. I remember +it well. It is where I was born. Dear mamma's room is there, where I +used to sit with her and hear her voice. My dear papa and mamma were +happy there; and she died there. It has its own associations; and now +since this great sorrow has come, I long to go there. It seems the +fittest place for me." + +"But, my child," said Miss Plympton, anxiously, "there is one thing that +you do not consider. Far be it from me to stand in the way of any of +your wishes, especially at a time like this, but is seems to me that a +return to Dalton Hall just now is hardly safe." + +"Safe!" + +Edith spoke in a tone of surprise, and looked inquiringly at Miss +Plympton. + +"I don't like this John Wiggins," said Miss Plympton, uneasily; I am +afraid of him." + +"But what possible cause can there be of fear?" asked Edith. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Plympton, with a sigh; "no one can tell. +If my suspicions are at all correct, he is a man who might be very +dangerous. He has control of all the estates, and--" + +"But for that very reason I would go home," said Edith, "if there were +no stronger inducement, to do what I can to put an end to his +management." + +"How could you do any thing with him?" asked Miss Plympton; "you so +young and inexperienced." + +"I don't know," said Edith, simply; "but the estates are mine, and not +his; and Dalton Hall is mine; and if I am the owner, surely I ought to +have some power. There are other agents in the world, and other lawyers. +They can help me, if I wish help. We are not living in the Middle Ages +when some one could seize one's property by the strong hand and keep it. +There is law in the country, and Wiggins is subject to it." + +"Oh, my child," said Miss Plympton, anxiously, "I am terrified at the +very thought of your being in that man's power. You can not tell what +things are possible; and though there is law, as you say, yet it does +not always happen that one can get justice." + +"That I know, or ought to know," said Edith, in a mournful voice; "I +have learned that this past night only too well." + +"It seems to me," said Miss Plympton, with the same anxiety in her +voice, "that to return to Dalton Hall will be to put yourself in some +way into his power. If he is really the unscrupulous, crafty, and +scheming man that I have suspected him to be, he will not find it +difficult to weave some plot around you which may endanger your whole +life. There is no safety in being bear that man. Be mistress of Dalton +Hall, but do not go there till you have driven him away. It seems by his +last letters as though he is living there now, and if you go there you +will find yourself in some sense under his control." + +"Well," said Edith, "I do not doubt his willingness to injure me if he +can, or to weave a plot which shall ruin me; but, after all, such a +thing takes time. He can not ruin me in one day, or in one week, and so +I think I can return to Dalton Hall in safety, and be secure for a few +days at least." + +Miss Plympton made some further objections, but the vague fears to which +she gave expression met with no response from Edith, who looked upon her +journey home in a very sober and commonplace light, and refused to let +her imagination terrify her. Her argument that Wiggins would require +some time to injure her was not easy to answer, and gradually Miss +Plympton found herself forced to yield to Edith's determination. In fact, +there was much in that resolve which was highly natural. Edith, in the +first place, could not bear to resume her intimacy with her +school-mates, for reasons which she had stated already; and, in addition +to this, she had a strong and irresistible longing to go to the only +place that was now her home. There she hoped to find peace, and gain +consolation in the midst of the scenes of her childhood and the memories +of her parents. These were her chief motives for action now; but in +addition to these she had others. The chief was a strong desire to +dismiss Wiggins from his post of agent. + +The detestation which she had already conceived for this man has been +noticed in a previous chapter. It had grown during past years out of a +habit of her mind to associate with him the apparent alienation of her +father. But now, since her father's past life was explained, this John +Wiggins appeared in a new light. The dark suggestions of Miss Plympton, +her suspicions as to his character and motives, had sunk deep into the +soul of Edith, and taken root there. She had not yet been able to bring +herself to think that this John Wiggins was himself the treacherous +friend, but she was on the high-road to that belief, and already had +advanced far enough to feel convinced that Wiggins could have at least +saved her father if he had chosen. One thing, however, was evident to +all the world, and that was what Miss Plympton laid so much stress on, +the fact that he had profited by her father's ruin, and had won gold and +influence and position out of her father's tears and agonies and death. +And so, while she longed to go home for her own consolation, there also +arose within her another motive to draw her there--the desire to see +this Wiggins, to confront him, to talk to him face to face, to drive him +out from the Dalton estates, and if she could not vindicate her father's +memory, at least put an end to the triumph of one of his false friends. + +The result of this interview was, then, that Edith should return to +Dalton Hall; and as she was unwilling to wait, she decided to leave in +two days. Miss Plympton was to go with her. + +"And now," said Miss Plympton, "we must write at once and give notice of +your coming." + +"Write?" said Edith, coldly, "to whom?" + +"Why, to--to Wiggins, I suppose," said Miss Plympton, with some +hesitation. + +"I refuse to recognize Wiggins," said Edith. "I will not communicate +with him in any way. My first act shall be to dismiss him." + +"But you must send some notice to some one; you must have some +preparations made." + +"Oh, I shall not need any elaborate preparations; a room will be +sufficient. I should not wish to encounter the greetings of this man, or +see him complacently take credit to himself for his attentions to +me--and his preparations. No; I shall go and take things as I find them, +and I should prefer to go without notice." + +At this Miss Plympton seemed a little more uneasy than before, and made +further efforts to change Edith's decision, but in vain. She was, in +fact, more perplexed at Edith herself than at any other thing; for this +one who but a day before had been a gentle, tractable, docile, gay, +light-hearted girl had suddenly started up into a stern, self-willed +woman, with a dauntless spirit and inflexible resolve. + +"There is only one more thing that I have to mention," said Edith, as +Miss Plympton rose to go. "It is a favor that I have to ask of you. It +is this;" and she laid her hand on the papers of the report, which were +lying rolled up in a parcel on the table. "Have you any further use for +this? Will you let me keep it?" + +"The need that I had for it," said Miss Plympton, "was over when I gave +it to you. I prepared it for you, and preserved it for you, and now +that you have it, its work is accomplished. It is yours, dearest, for +you to do as you choose with it." + +To this Edith murmured some words of thanks, and taking up the parcel, +proceeded to tie it up more carefully. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +THE WELCOME HOME. + +Dalton Hall was one of the most magnificent country-seats in +Somersetshire. The village of Dalton, which bears the same name as the +old family seat, is situated on the banks of a little river which winds +through a pleasant plain on its course to the Bristol Channel, and at +this place is crossed by a fine old rustic bridge with two arches. The +village church, a heavy edifice, with an enormous ivy-grown tower, +stands on the further side; and beyond that the gables and chimneys of +Dalton Hall may be seen rising, about a mile away, out of the midst of a +sea of foliage. The porter's lodge is about half a mile distant from the +church, and the massive wall which incloses Dalton Park runs along the +road for some miles. + +There was a railway station about four miles away from the village, and +it was at this station that Edith arrived on her way home. Miss Plympton +had come with her, with the intention of remaining long enough to see +Edith comfortably installed in her new abode, and with the hope of +persuading her to go back if circumstances did not seem favorable. A +footman and a maid also accompanied them. + +On reaching the station they found themselves at first at a loss how to +proceed, for there were no carriages in waiting. Of course, as no notice +had been sent of her journey, Edith could not expect to find any +carriage from Dalton Hall; nor did she think much about this +circumstance. Dressed in deep mourning, with her pale face and dark, +thoughtful eyes, she seemed to be given up to her own mournful +reflections; and on finding that they would have to wait, she seated +herself on a bench, and looked with an abstracted gaze upon the +surrounding scene. Miss Plympton gave some directions to the footman, +who at once went off to seek a carriage; after which she seated herself +near Edith, while the maid sat on a trunk at a little distance. They had +traveled all day long, and felt very much fatigued; so that nothing was +said by any of them as they sat there waiting for the footman's return. +At length, after about half an hour, a hackney-coach drove up, which the +footman had procured from an inn not far away, and in this undignified +manner they prepared to complete their journey. A long drive of four or +five miles now remained; and when at length they reached the park gate +none of them had much strength left. Here the coach stopped, and the +footman rang the bell loudly and impatiently. + +There was no immediate answer to this summons, and the footman rang +again and again; and finally, as the delay still continued, he gave the +bell a dozen tremendous pulls in quick succession. This brought an +answer, at any rate; for a man appeared, emerging from a neighboring +grove, who walked toward the gate with a rapid pace. He was a short, +bull-necked, thickset, broad-shouldered man, with coarse black hair and +heavy, matted beard. His nose was flat on his face, his chin was square, +and he looked exactly like a prize-fighter. He had a red shirt, with a +yellow spotted handkerchief flung about his neck, and his corduroy +trowsers were tucked into a pair of muddy boots. + +The moment he reached the gate he roared out a volley of the most +fearful oaths: Who were they? What did they mean, _dash_ them? What +the _dash dash_ did they mean by making such a _dash dash_ +noise? + +"You'll get your ugly head broken, you scoundrel!" roared the footman, +who was beside himself with rage at this insult to his mistress, coming +as it did at the close of so long and irritating a delay. "Hold your +infernal tongue, and open the gate at once. Is this the way you dare to +talk before your mistress?" + +"Mistress! You _dashed_ fool," was the response, "what the +_dash_ do I know about mistresses? I'll make a beginning with you, +you sleek, fat powder-monkey, with your shiny beaver and stuffed +calves!" + +Edith heard all this, and her amazement was so great that it drove away +all fatigue. Her heart beat high and her spirit rose at this insult. +Opening the carriage door, she sprang out, and, walking up to the gate, +she confronted the porter as a goddess might confront a satyr. The calm, +cold gaze which she gave his was one which the brute could not +encounter. He could face any one of his own order; but the eye that now +rested on him gave him pain, and his glance fell sulkily before that of +his mistress. + +"I am your mistress--Miss Dalton," said Edith. "Open that gate +immediately." + +"I don't know any thing about mistresses," said the fellow. "My orders +are not to open them gates to nobody." + +At this rebuff Edith was for a moment perplexed, but soon rallied. She +reflected that this man was a servant under orders, and that it would be +useless to talk to him. She must see the principal. + +"Who gave those orders?" she asked. + +"Mr. Wiggins," said the man, gruffly. + +"Is that man here now?" asked Edith. + +The man looked up suspiciously and in evident surprise, but his eyes +fell again. + +"Mr. Wiggins? He is here; he lives here." + +"Then do you go at once," said Edith, loftily, "and say to that man that +Miss Dalton is here." + +The fellow glanced furtively at the carriage, where he saw the pale face +of Miss Plympton and the paler face of the maid, and then with a grunt +he turned and walked up the avenue. Edith went back to the carriage and +resumed her seat. + +This scene had produced a profound effect upon her two companions. Miss +Plympton's worst apprehensions seemed justified by this rude repulse at +the gates, and the moment that Edith came back she began to entreat her +to return. + +"Come back," she said, "to the inn. Do, darling, at least for the night, +till we can send word to Wiggins." + +"No," said Edith, firmly; "I will not recognize Wiggins at all. I am +going to dismiss him the moment that I enter the Hall. I can wait +patiently just now." + +"But at least come back for this night. You may be sure that they will +not be ready for you. You will have to come back after all." + +"Well," said Edith, "I shall at least take formal possession of Dalton +Hall first, and let Wiggins see that I am mistress there." + +Miss Plympton sighed. Every hour only showed in a stronger manner how +hopeless was any attempt of hers to move Edith from any resolve that she +might make. Already she recognized in that slender young girl the +stubborn spirit of her father--a spirit which would meet death and +destruction rather than swerve from its set purpose. + +Nothing more was said, but they all waited patiently for the porter's +return. It seemed a very long time. The footman fussed and fumed, and at +length beguiled the time by smoking and chatting with the coachman, whom +he questioned about Mr. Wiggins. The coachman, however, could give him +no information on the subject. "I only know," said he, "as how that this +yer Wiggins is a Liverpool gent, an' latterly he seems inclined to live +here. But he don't never see no company, an' keeps hisself shut up +close." + +At length, after waiting for more than half an hour, the noise of +carriage wheels was heard, and a brougham appeared driven by the porter. +He turned the brougham inside the gate, and then getting down, he +unlocked the small gate and advanced to the carriage. The fellow seemed +now to try to be more respectful, for he had a hat on his head which he +took off, and made a clumsy attempt at a bow. + +"Beg pardon, miss," said he, "for keepin' you waitin'; but I had to put +the hosses in. Mr. Wiggins says as how you're to come up in the +brougham, an' your trunks an' things 'll be took up afterward. + +"But I want to drive up in this coach. I can't remove the luggage," said +Edith. + +"I don't know about that, miss," said the porter. "I've got to do as I'm +told." + +At this Edith was silent; but her flashing eyes and a flush that swept +over her pale face showed her indignation. + +"So this is the way he dares to treat me," said she, after some silence. +"Well," she continued, "for the present I must yield and submit to this +insolence. But it only shows more clearly the character of the man. I +suppose we must go," she continued, looking at Miss Plympton, and once +more opening the coach door herself. + +Miss Plympton had been more agitated than ever at this last message, and +as Edith opened the door she asked her, breathlessly, + +"What do you mean? What are you going to do, dear? + +"I am going to Dalton Hall," said Edith, quietly. "We must go in the +brougham, and we must quit this." + +Miss Plympton hesitated, and the maid, who was still more terrified, +clasped her hands in silent despair. But the porter, who had heard all, +now spoke. + +"Beg pardon, miss," said he, "but that lady needn't trouble about it. +It's Mr. Wiggins's orders, miss, that on'y _you_ are to go to the +Hall." + +"What insufferable insolence!" exclaimed Miss Plympton. "What shocking +and abominable arrogance!" + +"I do not regard it in the slightest," said Edith, serenely. "It is only +assumption on his part. You are to come with me. If I pass through that +gate you are to come also. Come." + +"Oh, my dearest, my own dearest Edith, do not!--wait!--come back and let +us talk over what we ought to do. Let us see a lawyer. Let us wait till +to-morrow, and see if a stranger like Wiggins can refuse admission to +the mistress of Dalton Hall." + +"Beg pardon, mum," said the porter, "but Mr. Wiggins ain't refusin' +admission to Miss Dalton--it's others that he don't want, that's all. +The lawyers can't do any thin' agin that." + +"My child," said Miss Plympton, "do you hear that? You shall not go. +This man knows well what he can do. He understands all the worst +injustice that can be done in the name of law. His whole life has been +lived in the practice of all those iniquities that the law winks at. You +see now at the outset what his purpose is. He will admit you, but not +your friends. He wishes to get you alone in his power. And why does he +not come himself? Why does he use such an agent as this?" + +Miss Plympton spoke rapidly, and in excited tones, but her excitement +did not affect Edith in the slightest degree. + +"I think you are altogether too imaginative," said she. "His orders are +absurd. If I go through that gate, you shall go too. Come." + +"Edith! Edith! I implore you, my darling," cried Miss Plympton, "do not +go. Come back. It will not be long to wait. Come to the village till +to-morrow. Let us at least get the advice of a lawyer. The law can +surely give an entrance to the rightful owner." + +[Illustration: "HE DREW FROM HIS BREAST A LARGE CLASP-KNIFE."] + +"But he doesn't deny an entrance to me," said Edith, "and if I go, you +shall come also. Come." + +Miss Plympton hesitated. She saw that Edith was fully determined to go +to Dalton Hall, and she could not bear to part with her. But at the same +time she was so terrified at the thought of forcing a way in spite of +the opposition of so formidable a villain as Wiggins that she shrank +from it. Love at length triumphed over fear, and she followed Edith out +of the coach, together with the maid. + +Meanwhile the porter had stood in deep perplexity watching this scene, +but at length when Miss Plympton had reached the ground and prepared to +follow Edith he put himself in front of them. + +"Beg pardon, miss," said he, "but its agin orders for them others to go. +It's on'y you that Mr. Wiggins 'll let in." + +"Mr. Wiggins has nothing to say about the matter," said Edith, coldly. + +"But I've got to obey orders," said the man. + +"Will you please stand aside and let me pass?" said Edith. + +"I can't let them others in," said the porter, doggedly. "You may go." + +"John," said Edith, quietly, "I'm sorry to trouble you, but you must +watch this man; and, driver, do you stand at the gate and keep it open." + +At this John flung down his hat upon the road, tore off his coat and +tossed it after the hat, and, with a chuckle of something like +exultation, prepared to obey his mistress by putting himself in a +"scientific" attitude. He saw well enough that the porter was a +formidable foe, and his face was a diploma in itself that fully +testified to the skill and science of that foe; but John was plucky, and +in his prime, and very confident in his own powers. So John stood off +and prepared for the fray. On the other hand, the porter was by no means +at a loss. As John prepared he backed slowly toward the gate, glaring +like a wild beast at his assailant. But John was suddenly interrupted in +his movements by the driver. + +"See here, young man," said the latter, who had sprung from the box at +Edith's order, "do you stand by the gate, an' I'll tickle that feller +with this whip, an' see how he likes it." + +The driver was a stout, solid, muscular fellow, with broad shoulders and +bull-dog aspect. In his hand he flourished a heavy whip, and as he spoke +his eyes sought out some part of the porter's person at which he might +take aim. As he spoke the porter became aware of this second assailant, +and a dark and malignant frown lowered over his evil face. He slowly +drew from his breast a large clasp-knife which was as formidable as a +dagger, and opening this, he held it significantly before him. + +But now a new turn was given to the progress of affairs. Had the porter +said nothing, Miss Plympton might have overcome her fears far enough to +accompany Edith; but his menacing looks and words, and these +preparations for a struggle, were too much. + +"Edith, my child, my dearest, do not! do not! I can not go; I will not. +See these men; they will kill one another. John, come away. Driver, go +back to the box. Come away at once. Do you hear, John?" + +John did hear, and after some hesitation concluded to obey. He stepped +back from the gate, and stood awaiting the progress of events. The +driver also stood, waiting further orders. + +"Edith dearest," said Miss Plympton, "nothing would induce me to go +through those gates. You must not go." + +"I'm sure," said Edith, "I shall be very sorry if you will not come; +but, for my own part, I am quite resolved to go. Don't be afraid. Come." + +Miss Plympton shuddered and shook her head. + +"Well," said Edith, "perhaps it will be as well for you to wait, since +you are so agitated; and if you really will not come, you can drive back +to the village. At any rate, I can see you to-morrow, and I will drive +down for you the first thing." + +Miss Plympton looked mournfully at Edith. + +"And you, Richards," said Edith, looking at her maid, "I suppose it is +no use for me to ask you. I see how it is. Well, never mind. I dare say +she needs you more than I do; and to-morrow will make all right. I see +it only distresses you for me to press you so I will say no more. +Good-by for the present." + +Edith held out her hand. Miss Plympton took it, let it go, and folding +Edith in her arms, she burst into tears. + +"I'm afraid--I'm afraid," said she. + +"What of?" said Edith. + +"About you," moaned Miss Plympton. + +"Nonsense," said Edith. "I shall call on you to-morrow as soon as you +are up." + +Miss Plympton sighed. + +Edith held out her hand to her maid, Richards, and kindly bade her +good-by. The girl wept bitterly, and could not speak. It was an unusual +thing for Edith to do, and was rather too solemn a proceeding in view of +a short separation for one night, and this struck Edith herself. But who +knows what one night may bring forth? + +Edith now left them, and, passing through the gate, she stood and waved +her hand at them. The porter followed and shut the gate. Miss Plympton, +the maid, the driver, and John all stood looking after Edith with uneasy +faces. Seeing that, she forced a smile, and finding that they would not +go till she had gone, she waved a last adieu and entered the brougham. +As she did so she heard the bolt turn in the lock as the porter fastened +the gate, and an ominous dread arose within her. Was this a +presentiment? Did she have a dim foreshadowing of the future? Did she +conjecture how long it would be before she passed through that gate +again, and how and wherefore? It matters not. Other thoughts soon came, +and the porter jumping into the seat, drove rapidly off. + +Edith found herself carried along through lordly avenues, with giant +trees, the growth of centuries; rising grandly on either side and +overarching above, and between which long vistas opened, where the eye +could take in wide glades and sloping meadows. Sometimes she caught +sight of eminences rising in the distance covered with groves, and along +the slopes herds of deer sometimes came bounding. Finally there came to +view a broad lawn, with a pond in the centre, beyond which arose a +stately edifice which Edith recognized as the home of her childhood. + +It needed only one glance, however, to show Edith that a great change +had taken place since those well-remembered days of childhood. Every +where the old order and neatness had disappeared, and now in all +directions there were the signs of carelessness and neglect. The once +smooth lawn was now overgrown with tall grass; the margin of the pond +was filled with rushes, and its surface with slime; some of the windows +of the Hall were out, and some of the chimney-pots were broken; while +over the road grass had been allowed to grow in many places. Edith +recognized all this, and an involuntary sigh escaped her. The carriage +at length stopped, and she got out and ascended the steps to the door of +the house. + +The door was open, and an ungainly-looking negro servant was standing in +the hall. + +"Who has charge of this house?" asked Edith. "Is there a housekeeper?" + +The servant grinned. + +"Housekeepa, miss? Yes, miss, dar's Missa Dunbar." + +"Call the housekeeper, then," said Edith, "and tell her that I am +waiting for her in the drawing-room." + +The servant went off, and Edith then entered the drawing-room. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +THE STRANGE INMATES OF DALTON HALL. + +In that well-remembered drawing-room there was much that renewed the +long past grief of childhood, and nothing whatever to soothe the sorrow +of the present. Looking around, Edith found many things the same as she +once remembered them; but still there were great changes--changes, too, +which were of the same nature as those which she had noticed outside. +Every thing showed traces of carelessness and long neglect. The seats of +many of the handsome, richly carved chairs were ruined. Costly vases +had disappeared. Dust covered every thing. Books and ornaments which lay +around were soiled and spoiled. In that apparently deserted house there +seemed to have been no one for years who cared to preserve the original +grace and elegance of its decorations. But Edith did not have a very +long time to give to her survey of this room, for in a few minutes she +heard the rustle of a dress, and, turning, she saw a woman approaching +who was evidently the housekeeper. + +Edith was prepared to see some woman who might be in keeping with these +desolate surroundings and with the ruffian porter at the gate--some +coarse, insolent female; and she had also prepared herself to encounter +any rudeness with fortitude. But the first sight of Mrs. Dunbar was +enough to show her that her anticipations were completely unfounded. + +She was a woman might have been about fifty, and even older. The outline +of her features showed marks of former beauty and the general air of her +face was altogether above the rank of a household domestic. The +expression was one of calm, strong self-control, of dignity, and of +resolution; at the same time there was in her dark, earnest eyes a +certain vigilant outlook, as of one who is on guard at all times; and +her gaze as she fixed it upon Edith was one of searching, eager, yet +most cautious and wary examination. On the whole, this woman excited +some surprise in Edith; and while she was gratified at finding in her +one who was not out of the reach of respect, she yet was perplexed at +the calm and searching scrutiny of which she was the object. But she did +not now take any time to think about this. A vague idea occurred to her +that Mrs. Dunbar, like many other housekeepers, was one of that numerous +class who "have seen better days;" so, after the first look, she felt +sufficiently satisfied, and advancing a step or two to meet her, she +frankly held out her hand. + +The housekeeper took it, and said, simply, "Welcome to Dalton Hall." + +"Thank you," said Edith. "If I had met you before, I might have been +spared some humiliation. But I need not talk of that. I am very tired +and very faint. I have traveled all day and have met with gross insult +at my own gate. I want food and rest. Will you have the kindness, then, +to take me to my own room at once, and then, get me a cup of tea?" + +Mrs. Dunbar had not removed her earnest eyes from Edith; and even after +she had ceased speaking she still looked at her for a few moments in the +same way without answering. + +"We did not know that you were coming so soon," said she at length; "and +I can not tell you how I regret what has happened. It was too hard for +you. But we were taken by surprise. I entreat you not to suppose that +any thing but kindness was intended." + +Edith looked now at Mrs. Dunbar with an earnest scrutiny that was fully +equal to the searching gaze of the former. Mrs. Dunbar's tone was +cordial and lady-like, but Edith felt repugnance at her use of the word +"we." By that little word she at once identified herself with Wiggins, +and made herself in part responsible for the scene at the gate. + +"Kindness," said she, "is a strange word to use in connection with that +scene, when I found myself forced to part with the only mother that I +have known since my own mamma died." + +Mrs. Dunbar looked at her in silence, and there came over her face a +strange, patient expression that at any other time would have excited +Edith's sympathy and pity. Some reply seemed to rise to her lips, but +if it was so, it was instantly checked; and after a moment's hesitation +she said, in a low voice. + +"It is cheerless in this room. If you will come with me I will take you +where you can he more comfortable." + +Saying this, she led the way out, and Edith followed, feeling a little +perplexed at Mrs. Dunbar's manner, and trying to understand how it was +that she was so identified with Wiggins. She thought she could see an +evident kindliness toward herself, but how that could coexist with the +treatment which she had received at the gates was rather a puzzle. + +Mrs. Dunbar led the way up to the second story, and along a corridor +toward the right wing. Here she came to a room in the front of the house +which looked out upon the park, and commanded an extensive view. There +was a well-furnished bedroom off this room, to which Mrs. Dunbar at once +led her. + +"If we had only received notice that you were coming," said she, "you +would have met with a better reception." + +Edith said nothing, for once more the word "we" jarred unpleasantly upon +her. + +"Shall you have any objection to occupy this room for to-night?" asked +Mrs. Dunbar. + +"Thank you," said Edith, "none whatever; but I should like very much to +have my luggage. It was taken back to Dalton." + +"Taken back?" + +"Yes. Miss Plympton was not admitted, and my luggage was on the coach." + +Mrs. Dunbar made no reply for some moments. + +"I should feel much obliged if you would send one of the servants to +fetch it," said Edith. + +"I don't see why not," said Mrs. Dunbar, in a hesitating voice. + +"And have you any writing materials?" asked Edith. "I should like to +send a few lines to Miss Plympton." + +Mrs. Dunbar looked at her with one of those strange, searching glances +peculiar to her, and after some hesitation said, "I will look." + +"Thank you," said Edith, and turned away. Mrs. Dunbar then left her, and +did not return for some time. At length she made her appearance, +followed by the black servant, who carried a tray. A table was laid in +the outer room, and a bountiful repast spread there. Edith did not eat +much, however. She sat sipping a cup of tea, and thinking profoundly, +while Mrs. Dunbar took a seat a little on one side, so as to be +unobserved, from which position she watched Edith most closely. It was +as though she was studying the character of this young girl so as to see +what its promise might be. And if Mrs. Dunbar had any knowledge of the +world, one thing must have been plainly manifest to her in that +examination, and that was that this young girl was not to be managed or +controlled after the fashion of most of her kind, but would require very +difficult and very peculiar treatment if she were to be bent to the will +of others. Mrs. Dunbar seemed to recognize this, and the discovery +seemed to create distress, for a heavy sigh escaped her. + +The sigh roused Edith. She at once rose from her seat and turned round. + +"And now, Mrs. Dunbar," said she, "if you will let me have the writing +materials I will send a few lines to poor Miss Plympton." + +Mrs. Dunbar at once arose, and going out of the room, returned in a few +minutes with a desk, which she laid upon another table. Edith at once +seated herself to write, and while the black servant was removing the +things she hurriedly wrote the following: + +"DALTON HALL. + +"My darling Auntie,--I write at once because I know you will be devoured +with anxiety, and will not sleep to-night unless you hear from me. You +will be delighted to learn, then, that I am safe and unharmed. The man +Wiggins has not yet made his appearance, but I hope to see him this +evening. The Hall looks familiar, but desolate, except in the room where +I now am writing, where I find sufficient comfort to satisfy me. I am +too much fatigued to write any more, nor is it necessary, as I intend to +call on you as early as possible to-morrow morning. Until then good-by, +and don't be foolishly anxious about your own. + +EDITH." + +This note Edith folded and directed to "Miss Plympton, Dalton." After +which she handed it to Mrs. Dunbar, who took it in silence and left the +room. + +For some time Edith sat involved in thought. She had written cheerfully +enough to Miss Plympton, but that was from a kindly desire to reassure +her. In reality, she was overwhelmed with loneliness and melancholy. +The aspect of the grounds below and of the drawing-room had struck a +chill to her heart. This great drear house oppressed her, and the +melancholy with which she had left Plympton Terrace now became +intensified. The gloom that had overwhelmed her father seemed to rest +upon her father's house, and descended thence upon her own spirit, +strong and brave though it was. + +In the midst of her melancholy thoughts she was startled at the sound of +a low sigh immediately behind her. She turned hastily, and saw a man +standing there, who had entered the room so silently that, in her +abstraction, she had not heard him. He was now standing about half-way +between her and the door, and his eyes were fixed upon her with +something of that same earnest scrutiny which she had already observed +in the gaze of Mrs. Dunbar. One glance at this man was sufficient to +show her that it was no servant, and that it could be no other than +Wiggins himself. He was not a man, however, who could be dismissed with +a glance. There was something in him which compelled a further survey, +and Edith found herself filled with a certain indefinable wonder as she +looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her; her eyes were fixed on him; +and they both looked upon each other in silence. + +He was a man who might once have been tall, but now was stooping so that +his original height was concealed. He was plainly dressed, and his coat +of some thin black stuff hung loosely about him. He wore slippers, which +served to account for his noiseless entrance. Yet it was not things +like these that Edith noticed at that time, but rather the face that now +appeared before her. + +It was a face which is only met with once in a lifetime?--a face which +had such an expression that the beholder could only feel baffled. It was +the face of one who might be the oldest of men, so snow-white was the +hair, so deep were the lines that were graven upon it. His cheek-bones +were prominent, his mouth was concealed by a huge gray mustache, and his +cheeks were sunken, while his forehead projected, and was fringed with +heavy eyebrows, from behind which his dark eyes glowed with a sort of +gloomy lustre from cavernous depths. Over his whole face there was one +pervading expression that was more than despondency, and near akin to +despair. It was the expression of a man whose life had been a series of +disheartening failures, or of one who had sinned deeply, or of one who +had suffered unusual and protracted anguish of soul, or of one who has +been long a prey to that form of madness which takes the form of +melancholy. So this might mean a ruined life, or it might mean madness, +or it might be the stamp of sorrow, or it might be the handwriting of +remorse. Whatever it was could certainly not be gathered from one +survey, or from many, nor, indeed, could it be known for certain at all +without this man's confession. + +[Illustration: "AND THIS WAS WIGGINS!"] + +For in addition to this mysterious expression there was another, which +was combined with it so closely that it seemed to throw conjecture still +further off the track and bewilder the gazer. This was a certain air of +patient and incessant vigilance, a look-out upon the world as from +behind an outpost of danger, the hunted look of the criminal who fears +detection, or the never-ending watchfulness of the uneasy conscience. + +All this Edith could not help seeing, and she gathered this general +result from her survey of that face, though at that time she could not +put her conclusion in words. It seemed to her to be remorse which she +saw there, and the manifestations of a stricken conscience. It was the +criminal who feared detection, the wrong-doer on the constant look-out +for discovery--a criminal most venerable, a wrong-doer who must have +suffered; but if a criminal, one of dark and bitter memories, and one +whose thoughts, reaching over the years, must have been as gloomy as +death. + +And this was Wiggins! + +Not the Mephistopheles which she had imagined; not the evil mocking +fiend; but one rather who originally had not been without good +instincts, and who might have become a virtuous man had fate not +prevented. It was not the leering, sneering tempter that she saw, but +rather some representation of that archangel ruined, for it was as +though "his brow deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care sat on +his faded cheek." + +At first the woman's heart of Edith made itself felt, and she pitied +him; but quickly the daughter's heart spoke, and it denounced him. If +this man felt remorse, it could only be for one great crime, and what +crime was so great as that of the betrayal of Frederick Dalton? Was it +this that had crushed the traitor? Thoughts like these flashed through +her mind, and her glance, which at first had softened from +commiseration, now grew stern and cold and hard; and the fixed, eager +look which came to her from those gloomy and mournful eyes was returned +by one which was hard and pitiless and repellent. Back to her heart came +that feeling which for a moment had faltered: the old hate, nourished +through her lifetime, and magnified during the last few days to +all-absorbing proportions: the strongest feeling of her nature, the hate +of the enemy of herself and the destroyer of her father. + +Wiggins, on his part, with his quick, vigilant eyes, did not fail to +mark at once the change that had come over Edith. He saw the first +glance of pity, and then the transition to coldness deepening into hate. +Until then there had seemed a spell upon him which fixed his gaze on +Edith, but now the spell was suddenly broken. He removed his gaze, and +then, taking a chair, he sat upon it, and for a few moments remained +with his eyes fixed on the floor. + +At last he raised his head, and, looking fixedly at Edith, began to +speak, and spoke in a strange, low, measured tone, with frequent +hesitations; in a way also that gave the idea of one who, for some cause +or other, was putting a strong constraint upon himself, and only +speaking by an effort. + +"I regret, very deeply," said he, "that you were treated with rudeness. +Had I known that you would come so soon, I should have notified the--the +porter. But he--he meant no harm. He is very faithful--to orders." + +"I am sorry to say," said Edith, "that it was not the rudeness of the +porter that was offensive, but rather the rudeness of yourself." + +Wiggins started. + +"Of myself?" he repeated. + +"Certainly," said Edith; "in refusing to admit one who is my dearest +friend on earth." + +Wiggins drew a long breath, and looked troubled. + +"It was distressing to me," said he at length; "but it could not be." + +At this, Edith felt inexpressibly galled, but for the time restrained +herself. + +"Perhaps you would have been pleased," said she, "if I had gone away +with her." + +"Oh no," said Wiggins, dreamily--"oh no." + +"I thought for a time of doing so," said Edith; "and in that case I +should have come to-morrow, or as soon as possible, with the officers of +the law, to reply to your orders." + +At this Wiggins looked at her with a strange and solemn glance, which +puzzled Edith. + +"You would have regretted it," said he, "eventually." + +"Few would have done as I did," said Edith, "in coming here alone." + +"You did right," said Wiggins. + +"At the same time," said Edith, firmly, "if I have forborne once, I +assure you I shall not do so again. You are in a wrong course +altogether. I shall put an end to this at once. And I tell you now that +this place must be made ready for Miss Plympton tomorrow. I will have +that brutal porter dismissed at once. As to yourself and the +housekeeper, I need say nothing just now." + +If it had been possible for that gray face to have turned grayer or +paler, it would have done so as Edith uttered these words. Wiggins +fixed his solemn eyes on her, and their glance had something in it which +was almost awful. After a moment he slowly passed his thin hand over his +brow, frowned, and looked away. Then he murmured, in a low voice, as if +to himself, + +"The girl's mad!" + +Edith heard these words, and for a moment thought Wiggins himself must +be mad; but his calmness and cold constraint looked too much like sober +sense. She herself had her own dark and gloomy feelings, and these +glowed in her heart with a fervid fire--too fervid, indeed, to admit of +utterance. She too had to put upon herself a constraint to keep back +the words, glowing with hot wrath and fervid indignation, which she +could have flung upon her father's betrayer. But because words were +weak, and because such deeds as his had to be repaid by act and in kind, +she forbore. + +"It is necessary," said Wiggins at length, "to live here in seclusion +for a time. You will gradually become accustomed to it, and it will be +all for the best. It may not be for so very long, after all--perhaps not +more than one year. Perhaps you may eventually be admitted to--to our +purposes." + +"This," said Edith, "is childish. What you mean I do not know, nor do I +care to. You seem to hint at seclusion. I do not feel inclined for +society, but a seclusion of your making is not to my taste. You must +yourself go elsewhere to seek this seclusion. This is mine, and here I +intend to bring the friends whom I wish to have with me. I can only +regard your present course as the act of a thoroughly infatuated man. +You have had things all your own way thus far, and seem to have come to +regard this place as yours, and never to have counted upon any thing but +acquiescence on my part in your plans." + +Wiggins fastened his solemn eyes upon her, and murmured, + +"True." + +"It is useless, therefore," said Edith, loftily, "for you to make any +opposition. It will only be foolish, and you will ultimately be ruined +by it." + +Wiggins rose to his feet. + +"It is only a waste of time," said he. "I confess you are different from +what I anticipated. You do not know. You can not understand. You are +too rash and self-confident. I can not tell you what my plans are; I +can only tell you my wishes." + +Edith rose to her feet, and stood opposite, with her large eyes flaming +from her white face. + +"This insolence," said she, "has lasted too long. It is you who must +obey me--not I you. You speak as though there were no such thing as +law." + +"I said nothing about obedience," said Wiggins, in a mournful voice, +which, in spite of herself, affected Edith very strangely. "I spoke of +plans which could not be communicated to you yet, and of my wishes." + +"But I," said Edith, mildly, "wish you to understand that I have my own +wishes. You make use of a tone which I can not tolerate for a moment. I +have only one thing more to say, and that is to repeat my former +direction. I _must_ have Miss Plympton here tomorrow, and +preparations for her _must_ be made. Once for all, you must +understand that between you and me there is absolutely nothing in +common; and I tell you now that it is my intention to dispense with your +services at the earliest possible date. I will not detain you any +longer." + +Saying this, she waved her hand toward the door, and then resumed her +seat. + +As for Wiggins, he looked at her with his usual solemn gaze during these +remarks. His bowed form seemed to be bent more as he listened to her +words. When she ceased and sat down he stood listening still, as though +he heard some echo to her words. Edith did not look up, but turned her +eyes in another direction, and so did not see the face that was still +turned toward her. But if she had looked there she would have seen a +face which bore a deeper impress than ever of utter woe. + +In a few moments he turned and left the room, as silently as he came. + +Before retiring that night Edith called Mrs. Dunbar, and gave her some +directions about preparing another bedroom and the drawing-room. To her +orders, which were somewhat positive, Mrs. Dunbar listened in silence, +and merely bowed in reply. + +After which Edith retired, weary and worn out, and troubled in many +ways. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +WALLED IN. + +Very early on the following day Edith arose, and found Mrs. Dunbar +already moving about. She remarked that she had heard Edith dressing +herself, and had prepared a breakfast for her. This little mark of +attention was very grateful to Edith, who thanked Mrs. Dunbar quite +earnestly, and found the repast a refreshing one. After this, as it was +yet too early to think of calling on Miss Plympton, she wandered about +the house. The old nooks and corners dear to memory were visited once +more. Familiar scenes came back before her. Here was the nursery, there +her mother's room, in another place the library. There, too, was the +great hall up stairs, with pictures on each side of ancestors who went +back to the days of the Plantagenets. There were effigies in armor of +knights who had fought in the Crusades and in the Wars of the Roses; of +cavaliers who had fought for King Charles; of gallant gentlemen who had +followed their country's flag under the burning sun of India, over the +sierras of Spain, and in the wilderness of America. And of all these she +was the last, and all that ancestral glory was bound up in her, a weak +and fragile girl. Deeply she regretted at that moment that she was not a +man, so that she might confer new lustre upon so exalted a lineage. + +[Illustration: "SHE SAW THE BLACK SERVANT, HUGO."] + +As she wandered through the rooms and galleries all her childhood came +back before her. She recalled her mother, her fond love, and her early +death. That mother's picture hung in the great hall, and she gazed at it +long and pensively, recalling that noble face, which in her remembrance +was always softened by the sweet expression of tenderest love. But it +was here that something met her eyes which in a moment chased away every +regretful thought and softer feeling, and brought back in fresh +vehemence the strong glow of her grief and indignation. Turning away +from her mother's portrait by a natural impulse to look for that of her +father, she was at first unable to find it. At length, at the end of the +line of Dalton portraits, she noticed what at first she had supposed to +be part of the wall out of repair. Another glance, however, showed that +it was the back of a picture. In a moment she understood it. It was her +father's portrait, and the face had been turned to the wall. + +Stung by a sense of intolerable insult, her face flushed crimson, and +she remained for a few moments rooted to the spot glaring at the +picture. Who had dared to do this--to heap insult upon that innocent and +suffering head, to wrong so foully the memory of the dead? Her first +impulse was to tear it down with her own hands, and replace it in its +proper position; her next to seek out Wiggins at once and denounce him +to his face for all his perfidy, of which this was the fitting climax. +But a more sober thought followed--the thought of her own weakness. +What could her words avail against a man like that? Better far would it +be for her to wait until she could expel the usurper, and take her own +place as acknowledged mistress in Dalton Hall. This thought made her +calmer, and she reflected that she need not wait very long. This day +would decide it all, and this very night her father's portrait should be +placed in its right position. + +This incident destroyed all relish for further wandering about the +house, and though it was yet early, she determined to set out at once +for the village and find Miss Plympton. With this design she descended +to the lower hall, and saw there the same black servant whom she had +seen the day before. + +"What is your name?" she asked. + +"Hugo," said the black, with his usual grin. + +"Well, Hugo," said she, "I want the brougham. Go to the stables, have +the horses put in, and come back as soon as you can. And here is +something for your trouble." + +Saying this, she proffered him a sovereign. + +But the black did not appear to see it. He simply said, "Yes, miss," +and turned away. Edith was surprised; but thinking that it was merely +his stupidity, she went up stairs and waited patiently for a long time. +But, in spite of her waiting, there were no signs of any carriage; and +at length, growing impatient, she determined to go to the stables +herself. She knew the way there perfectly well, and soon reached the +place. To her surprise and vexation the doors were locked, and there +were no signs whatever of Hugo. + +"The stupid black must have misunderstood me," thought she. + +She now returned to the house, and wandered all about in search of some +servants. But she saw none. She began to think that Hugo was the only +servant in the place; and if so, as he had disappeared, her chance of +getting the brougham was small indeed. As for Wiggins, she did not think +of asking him, and Mrs. Dunbar was too much under the influence of +Wiggins for her to apply there. She was therefore left to herself. + +Time passed thus, and Edith's impatience grew intolerable. At length, as +she could not obtain a carriage, she determined to set out on foot and +walk to Dalton. She began now to think that Wiggins had seen Hugo, found +out what she wanted, and had forbidden the servant to obey. This seemed +the only way in which she could account for it all. If this were so, it +showed that there was some unpleasant meaning in the language which +Wiggins had used to her on the previous evening about a secluded life, +and in that case any delay made her situation more unpleasant. She had +already lost too much time, and therefore could wait no longer. On the +instant, therefore, she set out, and walked down the great avenue toward +the gates. It was a longer distance than she had supposed: so long, +indeed, did it seem that once or twice she feared that she had taken the +wrong road; but at last her fears were driven away by the sight of the +porter's lodge. + +On reaching the gates she found them locked. For this she had not been +prepared; but a moment's reflection showed her that this need not excite +surprise. She looked up at them with a faint idea of climbing over. One +glance, however, showed that to be impossible; they were high, and +spiked at the top, and over them was a stone arch which left no room for +any one to climb over. She looked at the wall, but that also was beyond +her powers. Only one thing now remained, and that was to apply to the +porter. After this fellow's rudeness on the previous day, she felt an +excessive repugnance toward making any application to him now; but her +necessity was urgent, and time pressed. So she quieted her scruples, and +going to the door of the porter's house, knocked impatiently. + +The porter came at once to the door, and bowed as respectfully as +possible. His demeanor, in fact, was totally different from what it had +been on the previous day, and evinced every desire to show respect, +though perhaps he might manifest it rather awkwardly. Edith noticed +this, and was encouraged by it. + +"I want you to let me out," said Edith. "I'm going to Dalton." + +The man looked at her, and then at the ground, and then fumbled his +fingers together; after which he plunged his hands in his pockets. + +"Do you hear what I say?" said Edith, sharply. "I want you to unlock the +gate." + +"Well, miss, as to that--I humbly beg your pardon, miss, but I've got my +orders not to." + +"Nonsense," said Edith. "No one here gives orders but me. I am mistress +here." + +"Beg pardon, miss, but I don't know any master but Master Wiggins." + +"Wiggins!" said Edith. + +"Yes, miss, an' hopin' it's no offense. I have to obey orders." + +"But he couldn't have given you orders about me," said Edith, haughtily. + +"He said all persons, miss, comin' or goin', all the same. No offense +bein' intended, miss, an' beggin' your pardon." + +"But this is absurd," said Edith. "He knows that I am going to Dalton. +You have misunderstood him." + +"I'm sorry, miss. I'd do any thin' to oblige, miss; but I've got to do +as I'm bid." + +"Who employs you?" + +"Master, miss--Master Wiggins." + +"Do you want to keep this situation?" + +"Keep this situation?" + +"Yes. You don't want to be turned out, do you?" + +"Oh, no miss." + +"Well, obey me now, and you shall remain. I am the mistress of Dalton +Hall, and the owner of these estates. Wiggins is the agent, and seems +disinclined to do what I wish. He will have to leave. If you don't want +to leave also, obey me now." + +All this seemed to puzzle the porter, but certainly made no impression +upon his resolve. He looked at Edith, then at the ground, then at the +trees, and finally, as Edith concluded, he said: + +"Beg pardon, miss, but orders is orders, an' I've got to obey mine." + +Edith now began to feel discouraged. Yet there was one resource left, +and this she now tried. Drawing forth her purse, she took out some +pieces of gold. + +"Come," said she, "you do very well to obey orders in ordinary cases; +but in my case you are violating the law, and exposing yourself to +punishment. Now I will pay you well if you do me this little service, +and will give you this now, and much more afterward. Here, take this, +and let me out quick." + +The porter kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and did not even look at +the gold. "See!" said Edith, excitedly and hurriedly--"see!" + +The porter would not look. But at last he spoke, and then came the old +monotonous sentence, + +"Beggin' your pardon, miss, an' hopin' there's no offense, I can't do +it. I've got to obey orders, miss." + +At this Edith gave up the effort, and turning away, walked slowly and +sadly from the gates. + +This was certainly more than she had anticipated. By this she saw +plainly that Wiggins was determined to play a bold game. The possibility +of such restraint as this had never entered into her mind. Now she +recalled Miss Plympton's fears, and regretted when too late that she had +trusted herself within these gates. And now what the porter had told her +showed her in one instant the full depth of his design. He evidently +intended to keep her away from all communication with the outside world. +And she--what could she do? How could she let Miss Plympton know? How +could she get out? No doubt Wiggins would contrive to keep all avenues +of escape closed to her as this one was. Even the walls would be +watched, so that she should not clamber over. + +Among the most disheartening of her discoveries was the incorruptible +fidelity of the servants of Wiggins. Twice already had she tried to +bribe them, but on each occasion she had failed utterly. The black +servant and the porter were each alike beyond the reach of her gold. + +Her mind was now agitated and distressed. In her excitement she could +not yet return to the Hall, but still hoped that she might escape, +though the hope was growing faint indeed. She felt humiliated by the +defeat of her attempts upon the honesty of the servants. She was +troubled by the thought of her isolation, and did not know what might be +best to do. + +One thing now seemed evident, and this was that she had a better chance +of escaping at this time than she would have afterward. If she was to +be watched, the outlook could not yet be as perfect or as well organized +as it would afterward be. And among the ways of escape she could think +of nothing else than the wall. That wall, she thought, must certainly +afford some places which she might scale. She might find some gate in a +remote place which could afford egress. To this she now determined to +devote herself. + +With this purpose on her mind, she sought to find her way through the +trees to the wall. This she was able to do without much difficulty, for +though the trees grew thick, there was no underbrush, but she was able +to walk along without any very great trouble. Penetrating in this way +through the trees, she at length came to the wall. But, to her great +disappointment, she found its height here quite as great as it had been +near the gate, and though in one or two places trees grew up which threw +their branches out over it, yet those trees were altogether inaccessible +to her. + +Still she would not give up too quickly, but followed the wall for a +long distance. The further she went, however, the more hopeless did her +search seem to grow. The ground was unequal, sometimes rising into +hills, and at other times sinking into valleys; but in all places, +whether hill or valley, the wall arose high, formidable, not to be +scaled by one like her. As she looked at it the thought came to her that +it had been arranged for that very purpose, so that it should not be +easily climbed, and so it was not surprising that a barrier which might +baffle the active poacher or trespasser should prove insuperable to a +slender girl like her. + +She wandered on, however, in spite of discouragement, in the hope of +finding a gate. But this search was as vain as the other. After +walking for hours, till her feeble limbs could scarcely support her any +longer, she sank down exhausted, and burst into tears. + +For a long time she wept, overwhelmed by accumulated sorrow and +despondency and disappointment. At length she roused herself, and drying +her eyes, looked up and began to think of returning to the Hall. + +To her amazement she saw the black servant, Hugo, standing not far away. +As she raised her eyes he took off his cap, and grinned as usual. The +sight of him gave Edith a great shock, and excited new suspicions and +fears within her. + +Had she been followed? + +She must have been. She had been watched and tracked. All her desperate +efforts had been noted down to be reported to Wiggins--all her long and +fruitless search, her baffled endeavors, her frustrated hopes! + +It was too much. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +A PARLEY WITH THE JAILERS. + +Coming as it did close upon her baffled efforts to escape, this +discovery of Hugo proclaimed to Edith at once most unmistakably the fact +that she was a prisoner. She was walled in. She was under guard and +under surveillance. She could not escape without the consent of Wiggins, +nor could she move about without being tracked by the spy of Wiggins. It +was evident also that both the porter and the black servant Hugo were +devoted to their master, and were beyond the reach both of persuasion +and of bribery. + +The discovery for a moment almost overwhelmed her once more; but the +presence of another forced her to put a restraint upon her feelings. She +tried to look unconcerned, and turning away her eyes, she sat in the +same position for some time longer. But beneath the calm which her +pride forced her to assume her heart throbbed painfully, and her +thoughts dwelt with something almost like despair upon her present +situation. + +But Edith had a strong and resolute soul in spite of her slender and +fragile frame; she had also an elastic disposition, which rose up +swiftly from any prostration, and refused to be cast down utterly. So +now this strength of her nature asserted itself; and triumphing over her +momentary weakness, she resolved to go at once and see Wiggins himself. +With these subordinates she had nothing to do. Her business was with +Wiggins, and with Wiggins alone. + +Yet the thought of an interview had something in it which was strangely +repugnant to Edith. The aspect of her two jailers seemed to her to be +repellent in the extreme. That white old man, with the solemn mystery +of his eyes, that weird old woman, with her keen, vigilant +outlook--these were the ones who now held her in restraint, and with +these she had to come in conflict. In both of them there seemed +something uncanny, and Edith could not help feeling that in the lives of +both of these there was some mystery that passed her comprehension. + +Still, uncanny or not, whatever might be the mystery of her jailers, +they remained her jailers and nothing less. It was against this thought +that the proud soul of Edith chafed and fretted. It was a thought which +was intolerable. It roused her to the intensest indignation. She was the +lady of Dalton Hall; these who thus dared to restrain her were her +subordinates. This Wiggins was not only her inferior, but he had been +the enemy of her life. Could she submit to fresh indignities or wrongs +at the hands of one who had already done so much evil to her and hers? +She could not. + +That white old man with his mystery, his awful eyes, his venerable face, +his unfathomable expression, and the weird old woman, his associate, +with her indescribable look and her air of watchfulness, were both +partners in this crime of unlawful imprisonment. They dared to put +restrictions upon the movements of their mistress, the lady of Dalton +Hall. Such an attempt could only be the sign of a desperate mind, and +the villainy of their plan was of itself enough to sink them deep in +Edith's thoughts down to an abyss of contempt and indignation. This +indignation roused her, and her eagerness to see Miss Plympton impelled +her to action. Animated by such feelings and motives, she delayed no +longer, but at once returned to the Hall to see Wiggins himself. + +On her way back she was conscious of the fact that Hugo was following; +but she took no notice of it, as it was but the sequel to the preceding +events of the day. She entered the Hall, and finding Mrs. Dunbar, told +her to tell Wiggins that she wished to see him. After this she went down +to the dreary drawing-room, where she awaited the coming of her jailer. + +The room was unchanged from what it had been on the preceding day. By +this time also Edith had noticed that there were no servants about +except Hugo. The drear desolation of the vast Hall seemed drearier from +the few inmates who dwelt there, and the solitude of the place made +it still more intolerable. + +After some time Wiggins made his appearance. He came in slowly, with +his eyes fixed upon Edith, and the same expression upon his face which +she had noticed before. A most singular man he was, whoever or whatever +he might be. That hoary head and that venerable face might have awed her +under other circumstances, and the unfathomable mystery of its +expression might have awakened intense interest and sympathy; but as it +was, Edith had no place for any other feelings than suspicion, +indignation, and scorn. + +"What do you mean by this treatment?" said Edith, abruptly. "It seems as +though you are trying to imprison me. I have told you that I wish to +call on Miss Plympton. I can not get a carriage, and I am not allowed +to leave this place on foot. You are responsible for this, and I tell +you now that I must go, and at once." + +At this peremptory address Wiggins stood looking at her with his usual +expression, and for some moments made no reply. + +"I did not know," said he at length, in a slow and hesitating voice, +"that you wished to leave so soon." + +"But I told you so. You drove away Miss Plympton yesterday from my +gates. I promised to call on her this morning. She is anxiously +expecting me. I must go to her." Wiggins again waited for a few moments +before replying, and at length said, in an abstracted tone: + +"No, no; it can not be--it can not be!" + +"Can not be!" repeated Edith. "It seems to me that you are trying to +carry out a most extraordinary course of action toward me. This looks +like restraint or imprisonment." + +Wiggins looked at her with an expression of earnest entreaty on his +face, with which there was also mingled an air of indescribable sadness. + +"It is necessary," said he, in a mournful voice. "Can you not bring +yourself to bear with it? You do not know what is at stake. Some day +all will be explained." + +"This is silly," exclaimed Edith. "No explanation is possible. I insist +on leaving this place at once. If you refuse to let me go, it will he +worse for you than for me." + +"You do not know what you ask," said Wiggins. + +"I ask you," said Edith, sternly and proudly, "to open those gates to +your mistress." + +Wiggins shook his head. + +"I ask you to open those gates," continued Edith. "If you let me go now, +I promise not to prosecute you--at least for this. I will forget to-day +and yesterday." + +Saying this, she looked at him inquiringly. But Wiggins shook his head +as before. "It can not be," said he. + +"You decide, then, to refuse my demand?" said Edith, impatiently. + +"I must," said Wiggins, with a heavy sigh. "It is necessary. All is at +stake. You do not know what you are doing." + +"It is evident to me," said Edith, mastering herself by a strong effort, +"that you are playing a desperate game, but at the same time you are +trusting much to chance. Why did you wish me to come here? It was by the +merest chance that I decided to come. It was also by another chance +that I entered those gates which you now shut against my departure. Few +would have done it." + +"Your presence seemed necessary to my plans," said Wiggins, slowly. +"What those plans are I can not yet confide to you. You are concerned in +them as much as I am. Opposition will be of no avail, and will only +injure you. But I hope you will not try to oppose me. I entreat you to +bear with me. I entreat you to try to put a little confidence in me. I +was your father's friend; and I now implore you, that daughter whom he +loved so dearly, for your father's sake--yes, and for the sake of your +sainted mother--not to--" + +"This is mere hypocrisy," interrupted Edith. "My father was one with +whom one like you can have nothing in common. You add to your crimes by +this treatment of his daughter. What you have already been guilty of +toward him you alone know. If you hope for mercy hereafter, do not add +to your guilt." + +"Guilt!" cried Wiggins, in an awful voice. He started back, and +regarded her with eyes of utter horror. "Guilt!" he repeated, in a voice +so low that it was scarcely above a whisper--"and she says that word!" + +Edith looked at him with unchanged severity. + +"You made a great mistake," said she, coldly and sternly, "when you +drove Miss Plympton away. If you hope to keep me imprisoned here, you +will only destroy yourself. I have a friend who knows you, and who will +know before evening that I am here under restraint. She will never rest +until she effects my deliverance. Have you counted on that?" + +Wiggins listened attentively, as usual, to every word. The effort seemed +to give him pain, and the suggestion of her friend was undoubtedly most +unpleasant. + +"No, I have not," said he. He spoke as though to himself. The candor of +this confession stimulated Edith to dwell to a greater extent upon this +subject. + +"She was not willing for me to come in," said she. "She wished me not to +enter without a lawyer or the sheriff. If she finds that I am detained, +she will enter here in that way herself. She will deliver me in spite of +you. If she does not see me to-day, she will at once use every effort to +come to me. Your porters and your spies will be of no use against the +officers of the law." + +At this Wiggins looked at the floor, and was evidently in a state of +perplexity. He stood in silence for some time, and Edith waited +impatiently for his answer, so as to learn what effect these last hints +had produced. At length Wiggins looked up. He spoke slowly and +mournfully. + +"I am very sorry," said he. "I hope it will not come to that. I'm afraid +that I shall have to take you elsewhere." + +These words fell upon Edith's ears ominously and threateningly. They +conveyed to her mind a menace dark and gloomy, and showed the full +determination of Wiggins to maintain at all hazards the control that he +had gained over her. Edith therefore was silent, and apprehensive of +evil. She was afraid that she had said too much. It might have been +better not to threaten, or to show her hand prematurely. It might be the +best plan to wait in silence and in patience for Miss Plympton. Wiggins +was desperate. He might take her away, as he darkly hinted, from this +place to some other where Miss Plympton could never find her. + +She stood for some time in silence, with her mind full of such thoughts +as these. Wiggins waited for a few moments, and then turned and slowly +left the room. Edith said nothing, and made no effort to recall him, for +she now felt that her situation was growing serious, and that it would +be better for her to think it all over seriously, and not speak to +Wiggins again until she had decided upon some definite plan of action. +She therefore allowed him to take his departure, and soon afterward she +went to her own room, where she remained for hours in deep thought. + +At length Mrs. Dunbar brought in dinner. After laying the table she +stood for a few moments in silence looking at Edith; but at length, +yielding to some sudden impulse she came forward, and as Edith looked up +in surprise, she exclaimed, with startling abruptness, + +"Oh, how unfortunate! and oh, what a wretched mistake you are under! If +you had not come home so suddenly, all might have been well. We hoped +that you would be content and patient. Mr. Wiggins has plans of immense +importance; they require great quiet and seclusion. Oh, if you could +only have some faith in us!" + +She stopped as abruptly as she had begun. This style of address from a +housekeeper seemed to Edith to be altogether too familiar, and she +resented it deeply. Besides, the identification of herself with Wiggins +put Mrs. Dunbar in an odious position in Edith's eyes. + +"Mr. Wiggins's plans are of no consequence to me whatever," said she, +coldly. + +"They are; they are of immense importance," cried Mrs. Dunbar. + +Edith looked at her for a few moments with a cold stare of wonder, for +this volunteered advice seemed something like insolence, coming thus +from a subordinate. But she contented herself with answering in a quiet +tone: + +"You are mistaken. Nothing is of importance to me but my liberty. It +will be very dangerous to deprive me of that. My friends will never +allow it. In Wiggins this attempt to put me under restraint is nothing +less than desperation. Think yourself how frantic he must be to hope to +be able to confine me here, when I have friends outside who will move +heaven and earth to come to me." + +At this a look of uneasiness came over Mrs. Dunbar's face. It seemed to +Edith that this hint at friends without was the only thing that in any +way affected either of her jailers. + +"The punishment for such a crime as unlawful imprisonment," continued +Edith, "is a severe one. If Wiggins has ever committed any crimes +before, this will only aggravate his guilt, and make his punishment the +worse." + +At this Mrs. Dunbar stared at Edith with the same horror in her eyes +which Wiggins had lately shown. + +"Crime?" she repeated. "Guilt? Punishment? Oh, Heavens! Has it come to +this? This is terrible. Girl," she continued, with a frown, "you don't +know the dreadful nature of those words. You are a marplot. You have +come home to ruin every thing. But I thought so," she murmured to +herself. "I told him so. I said it would be ruin, but he would have his +way. And now--" The remainder of her remarks was inaudible. Suddenly +her manner changed. Her anger gave way once more to entreaty. + +"Oh!" she said, "can nothing persuade you that we are your friends? +Trust us--oh, trust us! You will soon learn how we love you. He only +thinks of you. You are the final aim of all his plans." + +Edith gave a light laugh. That she was the final aim of Wiggins's plans +she did not doubt. She saw now that plan clearly, as she thought. It was +to gain control of her for purposes of his own in connection with the +estate. Under such circumstances Mrs. Dunbar's entreaties seemed silly, +and to make any answer was absurd. She turned away and sat down at the +table. As for Mrs. Dunbar, she left the room. + +Night came. Edith did not sleep; she could not. The day had been the +most eventful one of her life. The thought that she was a prisoner was +terrible. She could only sustain herself by the hope that Miss Plympton +would save her. But this hope was confronted by a dark fear which +greatly distressed her. It might take time for Miss Plympton to do any +thing toward releasing her. She knew that the law worked slowly: she did +not feel at all certain that it worked surely. Her father's fate rose +before her as a warning of the law's uncertainty and injustice. Could +she hope to be more fortunate than he had been? Wiggins had passed his +life in the study of the law, and knew how to work it for his own +private ends. He had once succeeded in his dark plot against her father. +Might not his present "plan," about which he and his associate talked, +be equally successful? Mrs. Dunbar had called her a "marplot." To mar +the plot of this man, and avenge upon him the wrongs of her father, +would be sweet indeed; but could it be possible for her to do it? That +was the question. + +[Illustration: "CRIME! GUILT!"] + +The next morning came, and Edith rose full of a new purpose. She thought +of her efforts on the preceding day, and concluded that she had made one +great mistake. She saw now that Miss Plympton had most probably called, +and had not been admitted. If she had only remained by the gate, she +could have seen her friend, and told her all. That she had not thought +of this before was now a matter of the deepest regret, and she could +only hope that it might not yet be too late. She determined to go to +the gates at once and watch. + +She therefore hurried down to the gates as soon as she could. No efforts +were made to prevent her. She had feared that she might be locked up in +the Hall; but, to her surprise and relief, she was not. Such forbearance +made her situation still more perplexing. It was evident that Wiggins +hesitated about proceeding to extremities with her, and did not venture +as yet to exercise more than a general restraint. + +Arriving at the gate, Edith sat down close by it on a seat in front of +the porter's lodge, and waited and watched. The gates were of iron bars, +so that it was easy to see through them, and the road ran in front. The +road was not much frequented, however. An occasional farmer's wagon or +solitary pedestrian formed the only life that was visible outside. The +porter watched her for some time in surprise, but said nothing. Hugo +came up after about half an hour and talked with the porter, after which +he loitered about within sight of Edith. Of all this, however, Edith +took no notice whatever; it was what she expected. + +The hours of the day passed by, but there were no signs of Miss +Plympton. As hour after hour passed, Edith's hopes grew fainter and +fainter. She longed to ask the porter whether she had called or not, but +could not bring herself to do so--first, because she did not like to +destroy all hope; and secondly, because she did not wish to hold any +further communication with him. + +She sat there all day long. Miss Plympton did not come. The hours passed +by. Evening came. She bad eaten nothing all day. She was faint and +weary, and almost in despair. But to wait longer was useless now; so she +rose from her seat, and with feeble footsteps returned to the house. + +Early the next morning she returned to the gates to take up her station +as before and watch. She did not hope to see Miss Plympton now; for she +concluded that she had called already, had been turned back, and was now +perhaps engaged in arranging for her rescue. But Edith could not wait +for that. She determined to do something herself. She resolved to accost +all passers-by and tell them her situation. In this way she thought she +might excite the world outside, and lead to some interposition in her +behalf. + +Full of this purpose, she went down to the gates. As she drew near, the +first sight of them sent a feeling of dismay to her heart. A change had +taken place. Something had been done during the night. + +She drew nearer. + +In a few moments she saw it all. + +The gates had been boarded up during the night so that it was impossible +to see the road. + +One look was enough. This last hope was destroyed. There was nothing to +be done here; and so, sick at heart, Edith turned back toward the Hall. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +MISS PLYMPTON BAFFLED. + +Meanwhile Miss Plympton had been undergoing various phases of feeling, +alternating between anxiety and hope, and terminating in a resolution +which brought forth important results. On the departure of Edith she had +watched her till her carriage was out of sight, and then sadly and +reluctantly had given orders to drive back to Dalton. On arriving there +she put up at the inn, and though full of anxiety, she tried to wait as +patiently as possible for the following day. + +Accustomed to move among the great, and to regard them with a certain +reverence that pervades the middle classes in England, she tried first +of all to prevent any village gossip about Edith, and so she endeavored, +by warning and by bribery, to induce the maid, the footman, and the +driver to say nothing about the scene at the gates. Another day, she +hoped, would make it all right, and idle gossip should, never be allowed +to meddle with the name of Edith in any way. + +That evening Edith's note was brought to her. On receiving it she read +it hurriedly, and then went down to see who had brought it. She saw the +porter, who told her that he had come for Miss Dalton's baggage. The +porter treated her with an effort to be respectful, which appeared to +Miss Plympton to be a good omen. She offered him a piece of gold to +propitiate him still further, but, to her amazement, it was declined. + +"Thank ye kindly, mum," said he, touching his hat, "an' hope it's no +offense; but we beant allowed to take nothin' savin' an' except what he +gives us hisself." + +A moment's surprise was succeeded by the thought that even this was of +good omen, since it seemed to indicate a sort of rough, bluff, sterling +honesty, which could not co-exist with a nature that was altogether bad. + +Returning to her room, she once more read Edith's note. Its tone +encouraged her greatly. It seemed to show that all her fears had been +vain, and that, whatever the character of Wiggins might be, there could +be no immediate danger to Edith. So great, indeed, was the encouragement +which she received from this note that she began to think her fears +foolish, and to believe that in England no possible harm could befall +one in Edith's position. It was with such thoughts, and the hope of +seeing Edith on the following day, that she retired for the night. + +Her sleep was refreshing, and she did not awake till it was quite late. +On awaking and finding what time it was, she rose and dressed hastily. +Breakfast was served, and she began to look out for Edith. + +Time passed, however, and Edith did not make her appearance. Miss +Plympton tried to account for the delay in every possible way, and +consoled herself as long as she could by the thought that she had been +very much fatigued; and had not risen until very late. But the hours +passed, and at length noon came without bringing any signs of her, and +Miss Plympton was unable any longer to repress her uneasiness. This +inaction grew intolerable, and she determined to set forth and see for +herself. Accordingly she had the carriage made ready, and in a short +time reached the park gate. + +She had to ring for a long time before any one appeared; but at length, +after fully an hour's delay, the porter came. He touched his hat on +seeing her, but stood on the other side of the iron gateway without +opening it. + +"Is Miss Dalton at the Hall?" asked Miss Plympton. + +"Yes, mum." + +"I wish to see her." + +"Beg yer pardon, mum, but there be no callers allowed in." + +"Oh, it's different with me. Miss Dalton wrote that she would come to +see me this morning, and I'm afraid she's ill, so I have come to see +her." + +"She beant ill, then," said the other. + +Miss Plympton reflected that it was of no use to talk to this man, and +thought of Wiggins himself. + +"Is your master in?" she asked. + +"He is, mum." + +"Tell him I wish to see him." + +"Beggin' yer pardon, mum, he never sees nobody." + +"But I wish to see him on business of a very important kind." + +"Can't help it, mum--beggin' yer pardon; but I've got to obey orders, +mum." + +"My good fellow, can't you take my message, or let me in to see him?" + +"Sorry, mum, but I can't; I've got my orders." + +"But he can't know. This business is so important that it will be very +bad for him if he does not see me now. Tell him that. Go, now; you +can't know what his business is. Tell him that--" + +"Well, mum, if you insist, I don't mind goin'," said the porter. "I'll +tell him." + +"Say that I wish to see him at once, and that the business I have is of +the utmost importance." + +The porter touched his hat, and walked off. + +Now followed another period of waiting. It was fully half an hour +before he returned. Miss Plympton saw that he was alone, and her heart +sank within her. + +"Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum," said he, "and says he's sorry +he can't see you." + +"Did you tell him that my business was of the most important kind?" + +"Yes, mum." + +"And he refuses to come?" + +"He says he's sorry he can't see you, mum." + +At this Miss Plympton was silent for a little while. + +"Come," said she at last, "my good fellow, if I could only see him, and +mention one or two things, he would be very glad. It will be very much +to his injury if he does not see me. You appear to be a faithful +servant, and to care for your master's interests, so do you let me pass +through, and I'll engage to keep you from all harm or punishment of any +kind." + +"Sorry, mum, to refuse; but orders is orders, mum," said the man, +stolidly. + +"If I am not allowed to go in," said Miss Plympton, "surely Miss Dalton +will come here to see me--here at the gates." + +"I don't know, mum." + +"Well, you go and tell her that I am here." + +"Sorry to refuse, mum; but it's agin orders. No callers allowed, mum." + +"But Miss Dalton can come as far as the gates." + +The man looked puzzled, and then muttered, + +"Mr. Wiggins's orders, mum, is to have no communication." + +"Ah!" said Miss Plympton; "so she is shut up here." + +"Beggin' your pardon, mum, she beant shut up at all nowheres: she goes +about." + +"Then why can't I see her here?" + +"Agin orders, mum." + +By this Miss Plympton understood the worst, and fully believed that +Edith was under strict restraint. + +"My good man," said she, solemnly, "you and your master are committing a +great crime in daring to keep any one here in imprisonment, especially +the one who owns these estates. I warn him now to beware, for Miss +Dalton has powerful friends. As to you, you may not know that you are +breaking the law now, and are liable to transportation for life. Come, +don't break the laws and incur such danger. If I choose I can bring here +to-morrow the officers of the law, release Miss Dalton, and have you and +your master arrested." + +At this the man looked troubled. He scratched his head, drew a long +breath, and looked at the ground with a frown. + +Miss Plympton, seeing that this shot had told, followed it up. + +"Refuse me admittance," said she, "and I will bring back those who will +come here in the name of the law; but if you let me in, I promise to say +nothing about this matter." + +The porter now seemed to have recovered himself. He raised his head, and +the old monotonous reply came: + +"Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders." + +Miss Plympton made one further attempt. She drew forth her purse, and +displayed its contents. + +"See," said she, "you will be doing a kindness to your master, and you +shall have all this." + +But the man did not look at the purse at all. His eyes were fixed on +Miss Plympton, and he merely replied as before: + +"Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders." + +"Very well," said Miss Plympton. "There is only one thing left for me to +do. I wish you to take one final message from me to your master. Tell +him this: It is my intention to procure help for Miss Dalton at once. +Tell him that her uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh, is now in England, and +that this very day I shall set out for Dudleigh Manor, I shall tell Sir +Lionel how his niece is situated, and bring him here. He will come with +his own claims and the officers of the law. Wiggins shall be arrested, +together with all who have aided and abetted him. If he refuses to admit +me now, I shall quit this place and go at once without delay. Go, now, +and make haste, for this matter is of too great importance to be decided +by you." + +The porter seemed to think so too, for, touching his hat, he at once +withdrew. This time he was gone longer than before, and Miss Plympton +waited for his return with great impatience. At length he came back. + +"Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum," said the man, "and says he is +not breakin' any law at all, and that if you choose to go for Sir +Lionel, he is willin' to have you do so. He says if you fetch Sir +Lionel here he will let both of you in. He says he'll be very happy +indeed to see Sir Lionel." + +This singular way of taking what was meant to be a most formidable +threat took away Miss Plympton's last hope, and reduced her to a state +of dejection and bewilderment; for when, she sent that threatening +message, it was not because she had really any fixed design of carrying +it into execution, but rather because the name of Sir Lionel Dudleigh +seemed to her to be one which might overawe the mind of Wiggins. She +thought that by reminding Wiggins of the existence of this powerful +relative, and by threatening an instant appeal to him, she would be able +to terrify him into releasing Edith. But his cool answer destroyed this +hope. She felt puzzled at his assertion that he was not breaking any +law, when he himself must know well that such a thing as the +imprisonment of a free subject is a crime of the most serious character; +but she felt even more puzzled at his reference to Sir Lionel. Her own +connection and association with the aristocracy had never destroyed that +deep unswerving reverence for them with which she had set out in life; +and to find Wiggins treating the mention of Sir Lionel with such cool +indifference was to her an incomprehensible thing. But there was nothing +more for her to do at this place, and feeling the necessity of immediate +action, she at once drove back to the inn. + +Arriving here, she hoped that her prompt departure might frighten +Wiggins, and lead to a change in his decision, and she concluded to +remain that evening and that night, so as to give him time for +repentance. + +Nothing was left now but to devise some plan of action. First of all, +she made inquiries of the landlord about Wiggins. That personage could +tell her very little about him. According to him, Mr. Wiggins was a +lawyer from Liverpool, who had been intrusted with the management of the +Dalton estate for the past ten years. He was a very quiet man, devoted +to his business, and until latterly had never been at Dalton oftener or +longer than was absolutely necessary. Of late, however, he had been +living here for some months, and it was believed that he intended to +stay here the greater part of his time. + +This was all that Miss Plympton was able to learn about Wiggins. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +SIR LIONEL DUDLEIGH. + +Although Miss Plympton had indulged the hope that Wiggins might relent, +the time passed without bringing any message from him, and every hour as +it passed made a more pressing necessity for her to decide on some plan. +The more she thought over the matter, the more she thought that her best +plan of action lay in that very threat which she had made to Wiggins. +True, it had been made as a mere threat, but on thinking it over it +seemed the best policy. + +The only other course lay in action of her own. She might find some +lawyer and get him to interpose. But this involved a responsibility on +her part from which she shrank so long as there was any other who had a +better right to incur such responsibility. Now Sir Lionel was Edith's +uncle by marriage; and though there had been trouble between husband and +wife, she yet felt sure that one in Edith's position would excite the, +sympathy of every generous heart, and rouse Sir Lionel to action. One +thing might, indeed, prevent, and that was the disgrace that had fallen +upon the Dalton name. This might prevent Sir Lionel from taking any +part; but Miss Plympton was sanguine, and hoped that Sir Lionel's +opinion of the condemned man might be like her own, in which case he +would be willing, nay, eager, to save the daughter. + +The first thing for her to do was to find out where Sir Lionel Dudleigh +lived. About this there was no difficulty. Burke's _Peerage and +Baronetage_ is a book which in most English homes lies beside the +Bible in the most honored place, and this inn, humble though it might +be, was not without a copy of this great Bible of society. This Miss +Plympton procured, and at once set herself to the study of its pages. It +was not without a feeling of self-abasement that she did this, for she +prided herself upon her extensive knowledge of the aristocracy, but here +she was deplorably ignorant. She comforted herself, however, by the +thought that her ignorance was the fault of Sir Lionel, who had lived a +somewhat quiet life, and had never thrust very much of his personality +before the world, and no one but Sir Bernard Burke could be expected to +find out his abode. That great authority, of course, gave her all the +information that she wanted, and she found that Dudleigh Manor was +situated not very far distant from Cheltenham. This would require a +detour which would involve time and trouble; but, under the +circumstances, she would have been willing to do far more, even though +Plympton Terrace should be without its tutelary genius in the mean time. + +On the next morning Miss Plympton left Dalton on her way to Dudleigh +Manor. She was still full of anxiety about Edith, but the thought that +she was doing something, and the sanguine anticipations in which she +indulged with reference to Sir Lionel, did much to lessen her cares. In +due time she reached her destination, and after a drive from the station +at which she got out, of a mile or two, she found herself within Sir +Lionel's grounds. These were extensive and well kept, while the +manor-house itself was one of the noblest of its class. + +After she had waited for some time in an elegant drawing-room a servant +came with Sir Lionel's apologies for not coming to see her, on account +of a severe attack of gout, and asking her to come up stairs to the +library. Miss Plympton followed the servant to that quarter, and soon +found herself in Sir Lionel's presence. + +He was seated in an arm-chair, with his right foot wrapped in flannels +and resting upon a stool in front of him, in orthodox gout style. He was +a man apparently of about fifty years of age, in a state of excellent +preservation. His head was partially bald, his brow smooth, his cheeks +rounded and a little florid, with whiskers on each side of his face, and +smooth-shaven chin. There was a pleasant smile on his face, which +seemed natural to that smooth and rosy countenance; and this, together +with a general tendency to corpulency, which was rather becoming to the +man, and the gouty foot, all served to suggest high living and +self-indulgence. + +"I really feel ashamed of myself, Miss--ah--Plympton," said Sir Lionel, +"for giving you so much trouble; but gout, you know, my dear madam, is +not to be trifled with; and I assure you if it had been any one else I +should have declined seeing them. But of course I could not refuse to +see you, and the only way I could have that pleasure was by begging you +to come here. The mountain could not come to Mohammed, and so Mohammed, +you know--eh? Ha, ha, ha!" + +The baronet had a cheery voice, rich and mellow, and his laugh was +ringing and musical. His courtesy, his pleasant smile, his genial air, +and his hearty voice and laugh, all filled Miss Plympton with sincere +delight, and she felt that this man could do nothing else than take up +Edith's cause with the utmost ardor. + +After a few apologies for troubling him, which Sir Lionel turned aside +by protesting that apologies were only due from himself to her, Miss +Plympton began to state the object of her visit. + +"In the first place, Sir Lionel," said she, "I take it for granted that +you have heard of the death of Frederick Dalton, Esquire, in Van +Diemen's Land." + +The smile on the baronet's face died out at this, and his eyes fixed +themselves upon Miss Plympton's face with quick and eager curiosity. +Then he turned his face aside. A table stood on his right, with some +wine and glasses within reach. + +"Excuse me," said he; "I beg ten thousand pardons; but _won't_ you +take a glass of wine? No!" he continued, as Miss Plympton politely +declined; "really I think you had better." And then, pouring out a +glass, he sipped it, and looked at her once more. "Poor Dalton!" said +he, with a sigh. "Yes, of course, I saw it in the papers. A most +melancholy affair. Poor Dalton! Let me inform you, madam, that he was +more sinned against than sinning." Sir Lionel sighed. + +"Oh, Sir Lionel," exclaimed Miss Plympton, earnestly, "how it rejoices +my heart to hear you say that! For my part, I never, never had one +single doubt of his perfect innocence." + +"Nor had I," said Sir Lionel, firmly, pouring out another glass of wine. +"It was excessively unfortunate. Had I not myself been +in--in--ah--affliction at the time, I might have done something to help +him." + +"Oh, Sir Lionel, I'm sure you would!" + +"Yes, madam," said Sir Lionel; "but domestic circumstances to which I am +not at liberty to allude, of a painful character, put it out of my power +to--to--ah--to interpose. I was away when the arrest took place, and +when I returned it was too late." + +"So I have understood," said Miss Plympton; "and it is because I have +felt so sure of your goodness of heart that I have come now on this +visit." + +"I hope that you will give me the chance of showing you that your +confidence in me is well founded," said Sir Lionel, cordially. + +"You may have heard, Sir Lionel," began Miss Plympton, "that about the +time of the trial Mrs. Dalton died. She died of a broken heart. It was +very, very sudden." + +Sir Lionel sighed heavily. + +"She thought enough of me to consider me her friend; and as she did not +think her own relatives had shown her sufficient sympathy, she intrusted +her child to me when dying. I have had that child ever since. She is +now eighteen, and of age." + +"A girl! God bless my soul!" said Sir Lionel, thoughtfully. "And does +she know about this--this--melancholy business?" + +"I deemed it my duty to tell her, Sir Lionel," said Miss Plympton, +gravely. + +"I don't know about that. I don't--know--about--that," said Sir Lionel, +pursing up his lips and frowning. "Best wait a while; but too late now, +and the mischief's done. Well, and how did she take it?" + +"Nobly, Sir Lionel. At first she was quite crushed, but afterward +rallied under it. But she could not remain with me any longer, and +insisted on going home--as she called it--to Dalton Hall." + +"Dalton Hall! Yes--well? Poor girl! poor little girl!--an orphan. +Dalton Hall! Well?" + +"And now I come to the real purpose of my visit," said Miss Plympton; +and thereupon she went on to give him a minute and detailed account of +their arrival at Dalton and the reception there, together with the +subsequent events. + +To all this Sir Lionel listened without one word of any kind, and at +length Miss Plympton ended. + +"Well, madam," said he, "it may surprise you that I have not made any +comments on your astonishing story. If it had been less serious I might +have done so. I might even have indulged in profane language--a habit, +madam, which, I am sorry to say, I have acquired from not frequenting +more the society of ladies. But this business, madam, is beyond comment, +and I can only say that I rejoice and feel grateful that you decided as +you did, and have come at once to me." + +"Oh, I am so glad, and such a load is taken off my mind!" exclaimed Miss +Plympton, fervently. + +"Why, madam, I am utterly astounded at this man's audacity," cried Sir +Lionel--"utterly astounded! To think that any man should ever venture +upon such a course! It's positively almost inconceivable. And so you +tell me that she is there now?" + +"Yes." + +"Under the lock and key, so to speak, of this fellow?" + +"Yes." + +"And she isn't allowed even to go to the gate?" + +"No." + +"The man's mad," cried Sir Lionel--"mad, raving mad. Did you see him?" + +"No. He wouldn't consent to see me." + +"Why, I tell you, he's a madman," said Sir Lionel. "He must be. No sane +man could think of such a thing. Why, this is England, and the +nineteenth century. The days of private imprisonment are over. He's mad! +The man's mad!" + +"But what is to be done, Sir Lionel?" asked Miss Plympton, impatiently. + +"Done!" cried Sir Lionel--"every thing! First, we must get Miss Dalton +out of that rascal's clutches; then we, must hand that fellow and his +confederates over to the law. And if it don't end in Botany Bay and +hard labor for life, then there's no law in the land. Why, who is he? A +pettifogger--a miserable low-born, low-bred, Liverpool pettifogger!" + +"Do you know him?" + +"Know him, madam! I know all about him--that is, as much as I want to +know." + +"Do you know anything about the relations that formerly existed between +him and Mr. Frederick Dalton?" + +"Relations!" said Sir Lionel, pouring out another glass of +wine--"relations, madam--that is--ah--to say--ah--business relations, +madam? Well, they were those of patron and client, I believe--nothing +more. I believe that this Wiggins was one to whom poor Dalton behaved +very kindly--made him what he is, in fact--and this is his reward! A +pettifogger, by Heaven!--a pettifogger! Seizing the Dalton estates, the +scoundrel, and then putting Miss Dalton under lock and key! Why, the +man's mad--mad! yes, a raving maniac! He is, by Heaven!" + +"And now, Sir Lionel, when shall we be able to effect her release!" + +"Leave it all to me. Leave it all to me, madam. This infernal gout of +mine ties me up, but I'll take measures this very day; I'll send off to +Dalton an agent that will free Miss Dalton and bring her here. Leave it +to me. If I don't go, I'll send--yes, by Heaven, I'll send my son. But +give yourself no trouble, madam. Miss Dalton is as good as free at this +moment, and Wiggins is as good as in jail." + +Miss Plympton now asked Sir Lionel if he knew what Wiggins meant by his +answer to her threat, and she repeated the message. Sir Lionel listened +with compressed lips and a frowning brow. After Miss Plympton had told +it he sat for some minutes in silent thought. + +"So that is what he said, is it!" exclaimed Sir Lionel at last. "Well, +madam, we shall see about that. But don't give yourself a moment's +uneasiness. I take the matter in hand from this moment. The insolence of +this fellow, Wiggins, is unparalleled, madam; but be assured all this +shall surely recoil on his own head with terrible effect." + +Some further conversation followed to the same effect, and at length +Miss Plympton took her leave, full of hope and without a care. Sir +Lionel had hinted that she was not needed any more in the matter; and as +she felt a natural delicacy about obtruding her services, she decided to +go back to Plympton Terrace and wait. + +Accordingly, Miss Plympton, on leaving Dudleigh Manor, went back to +Plympton Terrace. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +LEON + +For some time after Miss Plympton's departure Sir Lionel remained buried +in thought. At length he rang the bell. + +A servant appeared. + +"Is Captain Dudleigh here yet?" asked Sir Lionel. + +"Yes, Sir Lionel." + +"Tell him that I want to see him." + +The servant departed, and in a short time the door opened and a young +man entered. He was tall, muscular, well-formed, and with sufficient +resemblance to Sir Lionel to indicate that he was his son. For some time +Sir Lionel took no notice of him, and Captain Dudleigh, throwing himself +in a lounging attitude upon a chair, leaned his head back, and stared at +the ceiling. At length he grew tired of this, and sitting erect, he +looked at Sir Lionel, who was leaning forward, with his elbow on the arm +of his chair, supporting his head in his hand, and evidently quite +oblivious of the presence of any one. + +"Did you wish to see me, Sir?" said Captain Dudleigh at length. + +Sir Lionel started and raised his head. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Is that you, Leon? I believe I must have been +asleep. Have you been waiting long? Why didn't you wake me? I sent for +you, didn't I? Oh yes. Let me see. It is a business of the greatest +importance, and I'm deuced glad that you are here, for any delay would +be bad for all concerned." + +Sir Lionel paused for a few moments, and then began: + +"You know about that--that melancholy story of--of poor Dalton." + +Leon nodded. + +"Did you hear that he is dead?" + +"Well, some paragraphs have been going the rounds of the papers to that +effect, though why they should drag the poor devil from his seclusion, +even to announce his death, is somewhat strange to me." + +"Well, he is dead, poor Dalton!" said Sir Lionel, "and--and so there's +an end of him and that melancholy business. By-the-way, I suppose you +haven't heard any particulars as to his death?" + +"No," said Leon, "nothing beyond the bare fact. Besides, what does it +matter? When a man's dead, under such circumstances, too, no one cares +whether he died of fever or gunshot." + +"True," said Sir Lionel, with a sigh. "It isn't likely that any one +would trouble himself to find out how poor Dalton died. Well, that is +the first thing that I had to mention. And now there is another thing. +You know, of course, that he left a daughter, who has been growing up +all these years, and is now of age. She has been living under the care +of a Miss Plympton, from whom I had the pleasure of a call this morning, +and who appears to be a remarkably sensible and right-minded person." + +"A daughter?" said Leon. "Oh yes! Of course I remember. And of age! +Well, I never thought of that. Why, she must be heiress to the immense +Dalton property. Of age, and still at school! What's her name? I really +forget it, and it's odd too, for, after all, she's my own cousin, in +spite of the short-comings of her father and--and other people." + +"Yes, Leon," said, Sir Lionel, "you're right. She is your own cousin. As +to her father, you must remember how I have always said that he was +innocent, and sinned against rather than sinning. Heaven forbid that we +should visit on this poor child the disgrace of her father, when he was +not guilty at all. I feel confident, Leon, that you will espouse her +cause as eagerly as I do; and since I am prevented from doing any thing +by this infernal gout, I look to you to represent me in this business, +and bring that infernal scoundrel to justice." + +"Infernal scoundrel! What infernal scoundrel?" + +"Why, this Wiggins." + +"Wiggins?" + +"Yes. The madman that is trying to shut up Edith, and keep her under +lock and key." + +"Edith! Who's Edith? What, Dalton's daughter? Oh, is that her name? But +what do you mean? What madman? what lock and key?" + +"You know Wiggins, don't you?" asked Sir Lionel. + +"Which Wiggins? There are several that I know--Wiggins the sausage man, +Wiggins the rat-catcher, Wig--" + +"I mean John Wiggins, of John Wiggins and Company, solicitors, +Liverpool. You know them perfectly well. I sent you there once." + +"Yes," said Leon, slowly, "I remember." + +"What sort of a man was this John Wiggins himself when you saw him?" + +"Oh, an ordinary-looking person--grave, quiet, sensible, cool as a +clock, and very reticent. I told you all about him." + +"Yes, but I didn't know but that you might remember something that would +throw light on his present actions. You went there to ask some questions +in my name with reference to poor Dalton, and the disposal of his +property." + +"Yes, and got about as little satisfaction as one could get." + +"He was not communicative." + +"Not at all. Every answer was an evasion. What little I did get out of +him had to be dragged out. The most important questions he positively +refused to answer." + +"Of course. I remember all that, for I was the one who wished to know, +and consequently his refusal to answer affected me most of all. I +wondered at the time, and thought that it might be some quiet plan of +his, but I really had no idea of the audacity of his plans." + +"How is that?" + +"Wait a moment. Did you see anything in this man that could excite the +suspicion that he was at all flighty or insane?" + +"Insane! Certainly not. He was, on the contrary, the sanest person I +ever met with." + +"Well, then, he must have become insane since. I've no doubt that he has +for years been planning to get control of the Dalton property; and now, +when he has become insane, he is still animated by this ruling passion, +and has gone to work to gratify it in this mad way." + +"Mad way? What mad way? I don't understand." + +"Well, I'll tell you all about it. I merely wished to get your unbiased +opinion of the man first;" and upon this Sir Lionel told him the whole +story which Miss Plympton had narrated to him. To all this Leon listened +with the deepest interest and the most profound astonishment, +interrupting his father by frequent questions and exclamations. + +"What can be his design?" said Leon. "He must have some plan in his +head." + +"Plan? a mad plan enough!" exclaimed Sir Lionel. "It is clearly nothing +else than an attempt to get control of the property by a _coup de +main_." + +"Well, the opinion that I formed of Wiggins is that he is altogether too +shrewd and deep a man to undertake any thing without seeing his way +clear to success!" + +"The man's mad!" cried Sir Lionel. "How can any sane man hope to succeed +in this? Why, no one can set up a private prison-house in that style. +If the law allowed that, I know of one person who could set up a +private jail, and keep it pretty well filled, too." + +"An idea strikes me," said Leon, "which may explain this on other +grounds than madness, and which is quite in accordance with Wiggins's +character. He has been the agent of the estates for these ten years, and +though he was very close and uncommunicative about the extent of his +powers and the nature of his connection with Dalton, yet it is evident +that he has had Dalton's confidence to the highest degree; and I think +that before Dalton's unfortunate business, he must have had some +influence over him. Perhaps he has persuaded Dalton to make him the +guardian of his daughter." + +"Well, what good would that do?" asked Sir Lionel. + +"Do you know any thing about the law of guardianship?" + +"Not much." + +"Well, it seems to me, from what I have heard, that a guardian has a +great many very peculiar rights. He stands in a father's place. He can +choose such society for his ward as he likes, and can shut her up, just +as a father might. In this instance Wiggins may be standing on his +rights, and the knowledge of this may be the reason why he defied you so +insolently." + +Sir Lionel looked annoyed, and was silent for a few moments. + +"I don't believe it," said he; "I don't believe any thing of the kind. I +don't believe any law will allow a man to exercise such control over +another just because he or she is a minor. Besides, even if it were so, +Edith is of age, and this restraint can not be kept up. What good would +it do, then, for him to imprison her for three or four months? At the +end of that time she must escape from his control. Besides, even on the +ground that he is _in loco parentis_, you must remember that there +are limits even to a father's authority. I doubt whether even a father +would be allowed to imprison, a daughter without cause." + +"But this imprisonment may only be a restriction within the grounds. The +law can not prevent that. Oh, the fact is, this guardianship law is a +very queer thing, and we shall find that Wiggins has as much right over +her as if he were her father. So we must go to work carefully; and my +idea is that it would be best to see him first of all, before we do any +thing, so as to see how it is." + +"At any rate," said Sir Lionel, "we can force him to show by what right +he controls her liberty. The law of guardianship can not override the +_habeas corpus_ act, and the liberty of the subject is provided +for, after all. If we once get Edith out of his control, it will be +difficult for him to get her back again, even if the law did decide in +his favor. Still I think there is a good deal in what you say, and it +certainly is best not to be too hasty about it. An interview with him, +first of all, will be decidedly the best thing. I think, before going +there, you had better see my solicitors in London. You see I intrust the +management of this affair to you, Leon, for this infernal gout ties me +up here closer than poor Edith at Dalton Hall. You had better set about +it at once. Go first to London, see my solicitors, find out about the +law of guardianship, and also see what we had better do. Then, if they +approve of it, go to Dalton Hall and see Wiggins. I don't think that you +are the sort of man who can be turned back at the gates by that ruffian +porter. You must also write me what the solicitors say, for I think I +had better keep Miss Plympton informed about the progress of affairs, +partly to satisfy her anxiety, and partly to present her from taking any +independent action which may embarrass our course of conduct." + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +LUCY. + +About a week after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, the +train stopped at the little station near Dalton village, and Leon +Dudleigh stepped out. At the same time a woman got out of another +carriage in the train. She was dressed in black, and a crape veil +concealed her face. Leon Dudleigh stood and looked about for a few +moments in search of some vehicle in which to complete his journey, and +as the train went on he walked into the little station-house to make +inquiries. The woman followed slowly. After exchanging a few words with +the ticket clerk, Leon found out that no vehicle was to be had in the +neighborhood, and with an exclamation of impatience he told the clerk +that he supposed he would have to walk, and at the same time asked him +some questions about getting his luggage forwarded to the inn at Dalton. +Having received a satisfactory answer, he turned to the door and walked +toward the village. + +[Illustration: "AT THAT MOMENT THE WOMAN RAISED HER VEIL."] + +The woman who had followed him into the station-house had already left +it, and was walking along the road ahead of him. She was walking at a +slow pace, and before long Leon came up with her. He had not noticed her +particularly, and was now about passing her, when at that very moment +the woman raised her veil, and turned about so as to face him. + +At the sight of her face Leon uttered an exclamation of amazement and +started back. + +"Lucy!" he exclaimed, in a tone of deep and bitter vexation. + +"Aha, Leon!" said the woman, with a smile. "You thought you would give +me the slip. You didn't know what a watch I was keeping over you." + +At this Leon regarded her in gloomy silence, while the expression of +deep vexation remained unchanged on his face. + +The woman who had thus followed him was certainly not one who ought to +inspire any thing like vexation. Her face was beautiful in outline and +expression. Her eyes were dark and animated, her tone and manner +indicated good-breeding and refinement, though these were somewhat more +vivacious than is common with English ladies. + +"I don't see what brought _you_ here," said Leon at last. + +"I might say the same of you, _mon cher_," replied the lady, "but I +have a faint idea, and I have no desire to give you too much liberty." + +"It's some more of your confounded jealousy," said Leon, angrily. "My +business here is a very delicate one indeed. I may have to do it +incognito, and it may ruin all if I have any one here who knows me." + +"Incognito?" said the lady. "That will be charming; and if so, who can +help you better than I? I can be your mother, or your grandmother, or +your business partner, or any thing. You ought to have insisted on my +accompanying you." + +The light tone of raillery in which this was spoken did not in any way +mollify the chagrin of the other, who still looked at her with a frown, +and as she ended, growled out, + +"I don't see how you got on my track, confound it!" + +"Nothing easier," said the lady. "You didn't take any pains to hide your +tracks." + +"But I told you I was going back to Dudleigh." + +"I know you did, _mon cher_; but do you think I believed you?" + +"I don't see how you followed me," said Leon again. + +"Well, I don't intend to let you know all my resources," said the lady, +with a smile, "for fear you will baffle me some other time. But now +come, don't let yourself get into a passion. Look at me, and see how +good-natured and sweet-tempered I am. Your reception of me is really +quite heart-rending, and I have a great mind to go back again at once +and leave you." + +"I wish you would," said Leon, rudely. + +"But I won't," said the lady. "So come, be yourself again, for you can +be sweet-tempered if you only try hard, you know." + +"Now see here, Lucy," said Leon, sternly, "you don't know what you're +doing. It's all very well to pass it off as a frolic, but it won't do. +This business of mine is too serious to admit of trifling. If it were my +own affair, I wouldn't care; and even if I didn't want you, I should +submit with a good grace. But this is a matter of extreme delicacy, and +my father has sent me here because he was unable to come himself. It is +a--a law matter. I went to London merely to see the solicitors. I didn't +tell a soul about my business, and I thought that no one knew I was +coming here except my father and the solicitors." + +"Well, but I'm always an exception, you know," said the lady, +pleasantly. + +"Oh, see here, now," said the other, "it's all very well for you to +meddle with my own affairs; but you are now forcing yourself into the +midst of the concerns of others--the business affairs of two great +estates. I must attend to this alone." + +"_Mon cher_," said the lady, with unalterable placidity, "business +is not one of your strong points. You really are not fit to manage any +important matter alone. At Dudleigh you have your papa to advise with, +at London your papa's solicitors, and here at Dalton you need a sound +adviser too. Now is there any one in whom you could put greater +confidence, or who could give you better advice on innumerable matters, +than the unworthy being who now addresses you? Come, don't keep up the +sulks any longer. They are not becoming to your style of beauty. For my +part, I never sulk. If you will reflect for a moment, you will see that +it is really a great advantage for you to have with you one so sagacious +and shrewd as I am; and now that the first moment of irritation has +passed, I trust you will look upon my humble offer of service with more +propitious eyes." + +Something in these words seemed to strike Leon favorably, for the +vexation passed away from his face, and he stood looking thoughtfully at +the ground, which he was mechanically smoothing over with his foot. The +lady said no more, but watched him attentively, in silence, waiting to +see the result of his present meditations. + +"Well," said he at last, "I don't know but that something may arise in +this business, Lucy, in which you may be able to do something--though +what it may be I can not tell just now." + +"Certainly," said the lady, "if you really are thinking of an incognito, +my services may be of the utmost importance." + +"There's something in that," said Leon. + +"But whether the incognito is advisable or not should first be seen. Now +if you would honor me with your confidence to ever so small an extent, I +could offer an opinion on that point which might be worth having. And I +will set you a good example by giving you my confidence. Frankly, then, +the only reason why I followed you was because I found out that there +was a lady in the case." + +"So that's it, is it!" said Leon, looking at her curiously. + +"Yes," said the lady. "And I heard that your father sent you, and that +you had been talking with his solicitors. Now as you are not in the +habit of doing business with your father, or talking with his +solicitors, the thing struck me very forcibly; and as there was a +lady--in fact, a rich heiress--in the case, and as you are frightfully +in debt, I concluded that it would be well for me to see how the +business proceeded; for I sometimes do not have that confidence in you, +Leon, which I should like to have." + +This was spoken in a serious and mournful voice which was totally +different from the tone of raillery in which she had at first indulged. +As she concluded she fixed her eyes sadly on Leon, and he saw that they +were suffused with tears. + +"You preposterous little goose!" said Leon. "There never was a wilder, +a sillier, and at the same time a more utterly groundless fancy than +this. Why, to begin with, the lady is my cousin." + +"I know," said the lady, sadly. + +"It seems to me you found out every thing, though how the deuce you +contrived it is more than I can tell," said Leon. + +"Our faculties are very much sharpened where our interests are +concerned," said the lady, sententiously. + +"Now, see here," said Leon. "It is true that this lady is my cousin, and +that she is an heiress, and that I am infernally hard up, and that my +father sent me here, and that I have been talking with the solicitors; +but I swear to you the subject of marriage has not once been mentioned." + +"But only thought of," suggested the other. + +"Well, I don't know any thing about people's thoughts," said Leon. "If +you go into that style of thing, I give up. By-the-way, you know so +much, that I suppose you know the lady's name." + +"Oh yes: Miss Dalton--Edith Dalton." + +"The devil!" exclaimed Leon. "Well, I confess I'm mystified. How you +could have found out all this is utterly beyond me." + +"So you have no idea of matrimony, _mon cher_?" said the lady, +attempting to use a sprightly tone, but looking at him with a glance so +earnest that it showed what importance she attached to his reply. + +Leon was silent for a moment, and looked at the ground. At last he burst +forth impatiently: + +"Oh, confound it all! what's the use of harping forever on one string, +and putting a fellow in a corner all the time? You insist on holding an +inquisition about thoughts and intentions. How do I know any thing about +that? You may examine me about facts if you choose, but you haven't any +business to ask any thing more." + +"Well, I suppose it _is_ rather unfair," said the lady in a sweet +voice, "to force one to explain all one's thoughts and intentions; so, +_mon cher_, let's cry quits. At any rate, you receive me for your +ally, your adviser, your guide, philosopher, and friend. If you want +incognitos or disguises, come to me." + +"Well, I suppose I must," said Leon, "since you are here, and won't go; +and perhaps you may yet be really useful, but--" + +"But at first I ought to know what the present condition is of this +'business' of yours." + +"Oh, I've no objection to tell you now, since you know so much; in fact, +I believe you know all, as it is." + +"Well, not quite all." + +"It seems to me," said Leon, "if we're going to talk over this matter +any further, we might find some better place than the middle of a public +road. Let me see," he continued, looking all around--"where shall we +go?" + +As he looked around his eyes caught sight of the little river that +flowed near, on its course through Dalton to the Bristol Channel. Some +trees grew on the margin, and beneath them was some grass. It was not +more than twenty yards away. + +"Suppose we sit there by the river," said Leon, "and we can talk it +over." + +The lady nodded, and the two walked to the river margin. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS SEATED NEAR THE WINDOW."] + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +A SOLEMN APPEAL. + +A few days passed away in Dalton Hall, and Edith began to understand +perfectly the nature of the restraint to which she was subjected. That +restraint involved nothing of the nature of violence. No rude or uncivil +word was spoken to her. Wiggins and Mrs. Dunbar had professed even +affection for her, and the two servants never failed to be as respectful +as they could. Her restraint was a certain environment, so as to prevent +her from leaving the park grounds. She felt walled in by a barrier +which she could not pass, but within this barrier liberty of movement +was allowed. At the same time, she knew that she was watched; and since +her first discovery of Hugo on her track, she felt sure that if she ever +went any where he would stealthily follow, and not allow her to go out +of sight. Whether he would lift his hand to prevent actual escape, if +the chance should present itself, was a thing which she could not +answer, nor did she feel inclined to try it as yet. + +During the few days that followed her first memorable experience she +made no further attempt to escape, or even to search out a way of +escape. What had become of Miss Plympton she did not know, and could +only imagine. She still indulged the hope, however, that Miss Plympton +was at Dalton, and looked forward with confidence to see her coming to +Dalton Hall, accompanied by the officers of the law, to effect her +deliverance. It was this hope that now sustained her, and prevented her +from sinking into despair. + +Of Wiggins during these few days she saw nothing more than a distant +glimpse. She remained in the room which she first occupied during the +greater part of the time. Nor did she see much of Mrs. Dunbar. From an +occasional remark she gathered that she was cleaning the drawing-room or +dusting it; but in this Edith now took no interest whatever. The Hall +was now a prison-house, and the few plans which she had been making at +first were now thrown aside and forgotten. Mrs. Dunbar brought her her +meals at regular intervals, but Edith never took the slightest notice of +her. She could not help observing at times in Mrs. Dunbar's manner, and +especially in her look, a whole world of sorrowful sympathy, but after +her unmistakable championship of Wiggins, she could not feel the +slightest confidence in her. + +At length one morning Wiggins once more called upon her. She was seated +near the window when she heard a knock. The door was already open, and +turning, she saw Wiggins. She bowed slightly, but said nothing, and +Wiggins bowed in return, after which he entered and seated himself, +fixing his solemn eyes upon her in his usual way. + +"It is a matter of great regret," said he, "that I am forced to give +pain to one for whom I entertain so much kindness, and even, let me add, +affection. Had you made your return to this place a little less +abruptly, you would have found, I am sure, a different reception, and +your position would have been less unpleasant." + +"Would you have allowed me my liberty," asked Edith, "and the society of +my friends, if I had delayed longer before my return? If so, let me go +back now, and I will give you notice before coming here again." + +Wiggins shook his head mournfully. + +"I am one," said he, "who has had deeper sorrows than usually fall to +the lot of man; yet none, I assure you--no, not one--has ever caused me +more pain than my present false position toward you. Can you not place +some confidence in me, and think that this is all for--for your good?" + +"You speak so plaintively," said Edith, "that I should be touched, if +your words were not belied by your acts. What do you think can +compensate for the loss of liberty? Were you ever imprisoned? Did you +ever have a jailer over you? Did you ever know what it was to be shut in +with walls over which you could not pass, and to know that the jailer's +eyes were always upon you? Wait till you have felt all this, and then +you will understand how empty and idle all your present words must be." + +While she said these words Wiggins sat as if he had been turned to +stone. His eyes were fixed on her with a look of utter horror. His +hands trembled. As she stopped he shuddered, and hastily looked behind +him. Then another shudder passed through him. At last with a violent +effort, be recovered something of his former calm. + +"God grant," said he, "that you may never know what I have known of all +that which you now mention!" + +His voice trembled as he spoke these words, and when he had said them he +relapsed into silence. + +"Since you have invoked the name of the Deity," said Edith, solemnly, +"if you have any reverence for your Maker, I ask you now, in His name, +by what right you keep me here." + +"I am your--guardian," said Wiggins, slowly; "your--guardian; yes," he +added, thoughtfully, "that is the word." + +"My guardian! Who made you my guardian? Who had the right to put you +over me?" + +Wiggins paused, and raised his head, which had been bent forward for a +few moments past, looked at Edith with a softer light in his solemn +eyes, and said, in a low voice, which had a wonderful sweetness in its +intonation, + +"Your father." + +Edith looked at him earnestly for a moment, affected in spite of herself +by his look and by his voice; but suddenly the remembrance of her wrongs +drove off completely her momentary emotion. + +"Do you think my father would have made you my guardian," said she, "if +he had suspected what you were going to do with me?" + +"I solemnly assure you that he did know, and that he did approve." + +At this Edith smiled. Wiggins now seemed too methodical for a madman, +and she began to understand that he was assuming these solemn airs, so +as to make an impression upon her. Having made up her mind to this, she +determined to question him further, so as to see what more he proposed +to do. + +"Your father," said Wiggins, "was my friend; and I will do for you +whatever I would have done for him." + +"I have no doubt of that," said Edith. "Indeed, you are doing for me +now precisely what I have reason to understand you did for him." + +"I do not comprehend you," said Wiggins. + +"It is of no consequence," said Edith. "We will let it pass. Let us +return to the subject. You assert that you are my guardian. Does that +give you the right to be my jailer--to confine me here, to cut me off +from all my friends?" + +"You use harsh words," said Wiggins; "but nevertheless it is a fact that +the law does allow the guardian this power. It regards him in the place +of a parent. All that a father can do, a guardian can do. As a father +can restrain a child, so can a guardian, if he deems such restraint +necessary. Moreover, if the ward should escape, the law will hand him +back to his guardian, just as it would hand, back a child to its +father." + +Not one word of this did Edith believe, and so it made no impression. +Having already got the idea in her mind that Wiggins was melodramatic, +and playing a part, she had no doubt that his words would be regulated +by the same desire that governed his acts, and would be spoken +exclusively with the view of producing an impression upon herself. She +therefore looked at him with unchanged feelings, and instantly replied: + +"It would be very fortunate for you if it were so, but for my part I +think better of the law. At the same time, since you claim all this +authority over me, I should like to know how long you think this power +will last. You do not seem to think that I am of age." + +"That matters not," said Wiggins. "My control over the estates and, my +guardianship over you are of such a nature that they can not cease till +your marriage." + +"Oh, then," said Edith, "according to that, I ought to try to get +married as soon as possible. And this, I suppose, is your sole reason +for shutting me up?" + +Wiggins said nothing, but sat looking gloomily at her. + +By his last words Edith now found what appeared to her a clew to his +whole plan. He was, or pretended to be, her guardian; he had been +appointed, or pretended to have been appointed, by her father. It might +have been so. Edith could well imagine how in previous years he had made +this false friend his executor and the guardian of his child; and then, +in the anguish of the trial and of the punishment, forgotten to annul +the deed; or Wiggins may have forged the document himself. If he really +was the false friend who had betrayed her father, and who had committed +that forgery for which her father innocently suffered, then he might +easily forge such a document as this in her father's name. + +Such was her conclusion from his words though she did not think fit to +say as much to him. What she did say, however, seemed to have affected +him, for he did not speak for some time. + +"You have no conception," said he at length, "of the torment that some +of your careless words cause. You do not know what you do, or what you +say. There is something that I can not tell, whatever be the price of +silence--something that concerns you and me, and your father, and two +great houses--and it is this that makes me dumb, and forces me to stand +in this false position. You look upon me as the crafty, scheming +steward--one who is your pitiless jailer--and I have to bear it. But +there is something which I can say--and I warn you, or rather I implore +you, not to disbelieve me; I entreat you to let my words have some +weight. I declare to you, then, by all that is most sacred among men, +that this restraint which I ask you to undergo is out of no selfish +desire, no avarice, no lack of honor for you, and--affection, but +because of a plan which I have, the success of which concerns all of us, +and you not the least." + +Edith listened to this without emotion, though at another time the +solemnity of such an appeal could not have failed to enforce belief. But +now Wiggins seemed only melodramatic, and every word seemed false. + +"What plan?" she asked. + +"It is this," said, Wiggins, looking all around with his usual cautions +vigilance, and drawing nearer to her. "Your father's name is a +dishonored one--the name you bear is covered with the stain of infamy. +What would you not give if his memory could be redeemed from wrong; if +even at this late hour his character could be vindicated? You have, I +am sure, a noble and a devoted heart. You would be willing to do much +for this. But what I ask of you is very little. I ask only silence and +seclusion. If you should consent to this, my work may be done before +very long; and then, whatever may be your feelings toward me, I shall +feel that I have done my work, and nothing further that this world may +do, whether of good or evil, shall be able to affect me. I ask +this--more, I entreat it of you, I implore you, in the sacred name of an +injured father, by all his unmerited wrongs and sufferings, to unite +with me in this holy purpose, and help me to accomplish it. Do not be +deceived by appearances. Believe me, I entreat you, for your father's +sake." + +Never were words spoken with greater apparent earnestness than these; +and never was any voice or manner more solemn and impressive. Yet upon +Edith no more effect was produced than before. When she had asked him +what his plan was, she had been prepared for this, or something like it. +She saw now that the mode by which he tried to work upon her was by +adopting the solemn and the pathetic style. The consequence was that +every gesture, every intonation, every look, seemed artificial, hollow, +and insincere. For never could she forget the one fatal fact that this +was her jailer, and that she was a helpless prisoner. More than this, he +had as good as asserted his intention of keeping her a prisoner till her +marriage, which, under such circumstances, meant simply till her death. +Not for one instant could he be brought to consent to relax the +strictness of his control over her. For such a man to make such an +appeal as this was idle; and she found herself wondering, before he had +got half through, why he should take the trouble to try to deceive her. +When he had finished she did not care to answer him, or to tell him what +was on her, mind. She was averse to quarrels, scenes, or anything +approaching to scolding or empty threats. What she did say, therefore, +was; perfectly commonplace, but for that reason perhaps all the more +disappointing to the man who had made such an appeal to her. + +"What you say," said she, "does not require any answer. It is as though +I should ask you to submit to imprisonment for an indefinite period, or +for life, for instance, for the sake of a friend. And you would not +think such a request very reasonable. What I require of you is, not idle +words, but liberty. When you ask me to believe you, you must first gain +my confidence by treating me with common justice. Or if you will not +release me, let me at least see my friends. That is not much. I have +only one friend--Miss Plympton." + +"You appear to think more of this Miss Plympton than you do of your own +father," said Wiggins, gloomily. + +"What I think of my father is of no consequence to you," said Edith; +"but as to Miss Plympton, she took me as a dying gift from my dear +mamma, and has loved me with a mother's love ever since, and is the only +mother I have known since childhood. When you turned her away from my +gates you did an injury to both of us which makes all your protestations +of honesty useless. But she is not under your control, and you may be +sure that she will exert herself on my behalf. It seems to me that you +have not considered what the result will be if she comes back in the +name of the law." + +"I have considered every thing," said Wiggins. Then, after a pause, he +added, "So you love Miss Plympton very dearly?" + +"Very, very dearly!" + +"And her words would have great weight with you?" + +"Very great weight.' + +"If, now, she should tell you that you might put confidence in me, you +would feel more inclined to do so?" + +Edith hesitated at this; but the thought occurred to her of Miss +Plympton's detestation of Wiggins, and the utter impossibility of a +change of opinion on her part. + +"If Miss Plympton should put confidence in you," said she, "I should +indeed feel my own opinions changed." + +Upon this Wiggins sat meditating profoundly for a short time. + +"Suppose, now," said he at length, "that you should receive a note from +Miss Plympton in which she should give you a more favorable opinion of +me, would you accept it from her?" + +"I certainly should be happy to get any thing of that kind from her," +said Edith. + +"Well," said Wiggins, "I had not intended to take any one into my +confidence, certainly not any stranger, and that stranger woman; but I +am so unable to tell you all, and at the same time I long so to have +your confidence, that I may possibly decide to see Miss Plympton myself. +If I do, rest assured her opinion of me will change. This will endanger +the success of my plan; but I must run the risk--yes, whatever it is; +for if this goes on, I must even give up the plan itself, and with it +all my hopes for myself--and for you." + +These last words Wiggins spoke in a low voice, half to himself, and with +his eyes turned to the ground. Edith heard the words, but thought +nothing of the meaning of them. To her, every thing was done for effect, +nothing was sincere. If she did not understand the meaning of some of +his words, she did not trouble herself to try to, but dismissed them +from her thoughts as merely affectations. As to his allusion to Miss +Plympton, and his idea of visiting her, Edith did not for a moment +imagine that he meant it. She thought that this was of a piece with the +rest. + +With these last words Wiggins arose from his chair, and with a slight +bow to Edith, took his departure. The interview had been a singular one, +and the manner of entreaty which Wiggins had adopted toward her served +to perplex her still more. It was part of the system which he had +originated, by which she was never treated in any other way than with +the utmost apparent respect and consideration, but in reality guarded as +a prisoner with the most sleepless vigilance. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +A WONDERFUL ACTOR. + +A few more days passed, and Edith remained in the same state as before. +Occasionally she would walk up and down the terrace in front of the +house, but her dislike to being tracked and watched and followed +prevented her from going any distance. She saw that she could not hope +to escape by her unassisted efforts, and that her only hope lay in +assistance from the outside world. Miss Plympton, she felt sure, could +never forget her, and would do all that possibly could be done to effect +her release as soon as possible. But day after day passed, and still no +deliverer appeared. + +She saw nothing of Wiggins during those days, but Mrs. Dunbar attended +on her as usual. To her, however, Edith now paid no attention whatever. +In her opinion she was the associate of her jailer, and a willing +partner in the wrong that was being done to her. Under these +circumstances she could not show to her any of that gentle courtesy and +kindly consideration which her nature impelled her to exhibit to all +with whom she was brought in contact. On the contrary, she never even +looked at her; but often, when she was conscious that Mrs. Dunbar was +gazing upon her with that strange, wistful look that characterized her, +she refused to respond in any way. And so the time passed on, Edith in +a state of drear solitude, and waiting, and waiting. + +At length she received another visit from Wiggins. He came to her room +as before, and knocked in his usual style. He looked at her with his +usual solemn earnestness, and advanced toward her at once. + +"You will remember," said he, "that when I was last here, a few days ago, +I said that I might possibly decide to see Miss Plympton myself. It was +solely for your sake; and to do so I have made a great sacrifice of +feeling and of judgment." + +"Miss Plympton?" interrupted Edith, eagerly. "Have you seen Miss +Plympton?" + +"I have." + +"Where? At Dalton? Is she at Dalton still?" + +"She is not." + +Edith's countenance, which had flushed with hope, now fell at this. It +looked as though Miss Plympton had gone away too hastily. + +"Where did you see her?" she asked, in a low voice, trying to conceal +her agitation. + +"At Plympton Terrace," said Wiggins. + +"Plympton Terrace," repeated Edith, in a dull monotone, while her breast +heaved with irrepressible emotion. Her heart within her. This indeed +looked like a desertion of her on the part of her only friend. But +after a moment's despondency she rallied once more, as the thought came +to her that this was all a fiction, and that Wiggins had not seen her at +all. + +"Yes," said Wiggins, "I have seen her, and had a long interview, in +which I explained many things, to her. It was all for your sake, for +had you not been concerned, I should never have thought of telling her +what I did. But I was anxious to get you to confide in me, and you said +that if Miss Plympton should put confidence in me, you yourself would +feel inclined to do so. It is because I want your confidence, your +trust--because I can't tell you all yet, and because without your trust +I am weak--that I have done this. Your misery breaks up all my plans, +and I wish to put an end to it. Now I have seen Miss Plympton at +Plympton Terrace, and she has written you a letter, which I have +brought." + +With these words he drew from, his pocket a letter, and handed it to +Edith. With a flushed face and a rapidly throbbing heart Edith took the +letter. It seemed like that for which she had been so long waiting, but +at the same time there was a certain ill-defined apprehension on her +mind of disappointment. Had that letter come through any other channel, +it would have excited nothing but unmingled joy; but the channel was +suspicions, and Edith did not yet believe that he had really been to +Plympton Terrace. She suspected some new piece of acting, some new kind +of deceit or attempt to deceive, and the fact that she was still a +prisoner was enough to fortify all her obstinate disbelief in the +protestations of this man. + +But on the letter she saw her own name in the well-known and +unmistakable handwriting of Miss Plympton. She was quite familiar with +that writing, so much so that she could not be deceived. This letter, +then, was from her own hand, and as she read it she began to think that +after all Wiggins was true in his statement that he had seen her. Then, +seeing this, with deep agitation, and with a thousand conflicting +emotions, she tore it open. She read the following: + +"Plympton Terrace. + +"My darling Edith,--I can not tell you, my own sweet love, how I have +suffered from anxiety since I parted from you at the gates of Dalton +Hall. I went back, and received your dear note that night, which +consoled me. On the following day I looked for you, but you did not +come. Full of impatience, I went to the gate, but was not admitted, +though I tried every inducement to make the porter open to me. Turning +away, I determined to go at once in search of some such means by which I +could gain access to you, or free you from your position. After much +thought I went to visit Sir Lionel Dudleigh, who heard my story, and +promised to act at once on your behalf. He advised me to return to +Plympton Terrace, and wait here till he should take the necessary steps, +which I accordingly did. I have been here ever since, and I can truly +say, my darling, that you have not once been out of my thoughts, nor +have I till this day been free from anxiety about you. My worst fear +has been about your own endurance of this restraint; for, knowing your +impatient disposition, I have feared that you might fret yourself into +illness if you were not soon released from your unpleasant situation. + +"But, my dearest, this day has brought me a most wonderful and +unexpected deliverance from all my fear. This morning a caller came who +refused to send up his name. On going to the parlor I found a venerable +man, who introduced himself as Mr. Wiggins. I confess when I saw him I +was surprised, as I had imagined a very different kind of man. But you +know what a bitter prejudice I have always had against this man, and so +you may imagine how I received him. In a few words he explained his +errand, and stated that it was exclusively with reference to you. + +"And now, my own darling Edith, I come to that about which I scarce know +how to speak. Let me hasten to say that both you and I have totally +misunderstood Mr. Wiggins. Oh, Edith, how can I speak of him, or what +can I say? He has told me such a wonderful and such a piteous story! +It can not be told to you, for reasons which I respect, though I do not +approve altogether of them. I think it would be better to tell you all, +for then your situation would be far different, and he would not stand +in so fearfully false a position. But his reasons are all-powerful with +himself, and so I shall say nothing. But oh, my dearest, let me implore +you, let me entreat you, to give to this man your reverence and your +trust! Be patient, and wait. Perhaps he may overcome his high and +delicate scruples, and let you know what his purposes are. For my part, +my only grief now is that I have done something toward giving you that +fear and hate and distrust of him which now animate you. I entreat you +to dismiss all these feelings, and bear with your present lot till +brighter days come. The purpose of Mr. Wiggins is a high and holy one, +and this he will work out successfully, I hope and believe. Do not, +dearest, by your impatience give any additional pang to that noble +heart. Beware of what you say or do now, for fear lest hereafter it may +cause the deepest remorse. Spare him, for he has suffered much. The +name of your family, the memory of your injured father, are all at stake +now; and I pray you, dearest, to restrain yourself, and try to bear with +the present state of things. If you can only believe me or be influenced +by me, you will give him all your trust, and even your affection. But +if you can not do this at once, at least spare him any further pain. +Alas, how that noble heart has suffered! When I think of his mournful +story, I almost lose all faith in humanity, and would lose it altogether +were it not for the spectacle which is afforded by himself--a spectacle +of purest and loftiest virtue, and stainless honor, and endless +self-devotion. But I must say no more, for fear that I may say too +much, so I will stop. + +"Mamma unites with me in kindest love, and believe me, my dearest Edith, + +"Ever affectionately yours, + +"PAMELA PLYMPTON. + +"P.S.--I have not referred to that noblest of women, Mrs. Dunbar. Oh, +dearest Edith, I hope that ere this she has won your whole heart, and +that you have already divined something of that exalted spirit and that +meek self-sacrifice which make her life so sublime. I can say no more. +P. P." + +Now it will be evident to the reader that if Miss Plympton had really +written the above, and had meant to incite Edith to give her +affectionate reverence to her two jailers, she could not have gone about +it in a worse way. Edith read it through, and at the beginning thought +that it might be authentic, but when she came to the latter half, that +idea began to depart. As she read on further and further, it appeared +more and more unlike Miss Plympton. The sudden transition from hate to +admiration, the extravagant terms that were made use of, the +exhortations to herself to change her feelings toward one like Wiggins, +the stilted phraseology, the incoherences, all seemed so unlike the +manner of Miss Plympton as to be only fit for derision. But the +postscript seemed worst of all. Here the writer had overdone herself, +or himself, and by dragging in the housekeeper, Mrs. Dunbar, and holding +her up for the same extravagant admiration, a climax of utter absurdity +had been attained. + +On reading this singular letter Edith's thoughts came quick and vehement +through her mind. If this letter were indeed the work of Miss Plympton, +then all hope for her interference was utterly gone. If Miss Plympton +wrote that, then she was evidently either mad, or else she had undergone +a change of mind so incomprehensible that it was equivalent to madness. +But Miss Plympton could never have written it. Of that she felt as sure +as she was of her own existence. + +If she did not, who did write it? The handwriting was exactly like that +of her revered friend. There was not the slightest difference between +this and that with which she was so familiar. It was her handwriting +indeed, but it was not Miss Plympton who spoke there. The hand was the +hand of Miss Plympton, but the voice was the voice of Wiggins. + +He had written all this, she felt sure. These allusions to his +sufferings, these hints about a plan, these references to her father, +these entreaties to her to give him her affection and trust--all these +were familiar. Wiggins had already made use of them all. It was, then, +the work of Wiggins beyond a doubt. + +And how? Could she doubt for a moment how? By imitating the writing of +Miss Plympton. Perhaps he had sent a messenger there, and obtained a +letter, part of which he had copied. The first half might have been +copied verbatim, while the last must certainly be his own work. As to +his power to imitate her writing, need she hesitate about that? Was not +her father condemned for a forgery which another had done! Had she not +already suspected that this false friend was no other than John Wiggins +himself? Forgery! that was only too easy for a man like him. And she +now saw in that letter an effort to accomplish her ruin by the same +weapon with which her father's had been wrought. + +All these thoughts rushed through her mind as she read and as she stood +looking over the pages and thinking about what had been done. All the +hate that she had ever felt for her father's betrayer, which had +increased when he had become her own oppressor, now glowed hot within +her heart and could not be repressed. + +[Illustration: "STEADYING HIMSELF, HE STOOD THERE TREMBLING."] + +Meanwhile Wiggins had stood before her on the same spot where he had +stopped when he handed her the letter. He had stood there with his eyes +fixed upon her, and on his face an expression of solemn suspense--a +suspense so anxious that one might have supposed his whole life depended +upon Edith's decision. So he stood, rigid, mute, with all his soul +centring itself in that gaze which he fixed on her, in an attitude which +seemed almost that of a suppliant, for his reverend head was bowed, and +his aged form bent, and his thin hands folded over one another before +him. + +Such were the face and figure and look and attitude that Edith saw as +she raised her head. Had her anger been less fervid and her indignation +less intense, she would surely have been affected by that venerable +suppliant form; but as it was, there was no place for any softer +emotion. + +She rose from her chair, and as her white face showed itself opposite to +his, her eyes looked upon him, as once before, hard, stem, pitiless; but +this time their glance was even more cruel and implacable. She held out +the letter to him, and said, quietly, + +"Take it." + +Wiggins looked at her, and spoke in a voice that was scarcely audible. + +"What--do--you--mean?" + +Carried beyond herself now by this attempt to prolong what seemed so +stupid and transparent a deceit, Edith spoke her whole mind plainly: + +"This is a close imitation of Miss Plympton's handwriting, but she could +never write such words--never! You have not visited her; you have not +seen her. This is a forgery. Once you were successful in forging, but +now you can not be. By that crime you once destroyed the father, but if +you destroy the daughter, you must--" + +But what Edith was going to say remained unsaid, for at this point she +was interrupted. + +Wiggins had listened to her with a stunned expression, as though not +able to comprehend her. But as the fullness of the meaning of her words +reached his ears he shuddered from head to foot. A low moan escaped him. +He started back, and regarded Edith with eyes that stared in utter +horror. + +"Stop! stop!" he cried, in a low, harsh voice. "No more, no more! This +is madness. Girl, you will some day weep tears of blood for this! You +will one day repent of this, and every word that you have spoken will +pierce your own heart as they now pierce mine. You are mad: you do not +know what you are saying. O Heavens! how mad you are in your ignorance! +And I need only utter one word to reduce you to despair. If I were dying +now I could say that which would give you life-long remorse, and make +you carry a broken heart to your grave!" + +He stopped abruptly, and staggered back, but caught at a chair, and, +steadying himself, stood there trembling, with his head bowed, and heavy +sighs escaping him. Soon hasty footsteps were heard, and Mrs. Dunbar +hurried into the room, with a frightened face, looking first at Edith +and then at Wiggins. She said not a word, however, but approaching +Wiggins, drew his arm in hers, and led him out of the room. + +Edith stood for some time looking after them. + +"What a wonderful actor he is!" she thought; "and Mrs. Dunbar was +waiting behind the scenes to appear when her turn should come. They went +out just like people on the stage." + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +TWO CALLERS. + + +Time passed slowly with the prisoner, but the freedom for which she +longed seemed as distant as ever. Miss Plympton's apparent desertion of +her was the worst blow that she had yet received, and even if the letter +that Wiggins had shown her was a forgery, it still remained evident that +but little was to be hoped for now in that quarter. It seemed to her now +as if she was cut off from all the world. Her relatives were +indifferent; Sir Lionel Dudleigh was inaccessible; Miss Plympton +appeared to have given her up; the county families who, under ordinary +circumstances, might have tried to call on her, would probably view with +indifference if not prejudice, the daughter of a convict. All these +circumstances, therefore, reduced her to deep dejection, and made her +feel as though she was indeed at the mercy of her jailer. + +While thus conscious of her helplessness however, she did not fear any +thing worse than imprisonment. The idea had occurred to her of further +injury, but had been at once dismissed. She did not think it possible +that her life could be in danger. It seemed to her that Wiggins owed all +his power to the very fact of her life. He was her guardian, as he had +said, and if she were to die, he would be no more than any one else. The +nearest heirs would then come forward, and he would have to retire. +Those nearest heirs would undoubtedly be those relatives of whom Miss +Plympton had told her, or perhaps Sir Lionel Dudleigh, of whom she now +thought frequently, and who began to be her last hope. + +The fact that Wiggins was her guardian till her marriage showed her +plainly that he would endeavor to postpone any such a thing as marriage +for an indefinite period. In order to do this he would, no doubt, keep +her secluded as long as he could. He would feel it to be for his +interest that her health should be taken care of, for any sickness of +hers would necessarily alarm him. The thought of this made her wish for +illness, so that she might have a doctor, and thus find some one who was +not in his employ. But then, on the other hand, she feared that the +doctor whom he might send would be some one in his pay, or in his +confidence, like all the rest, and so her desire for illness faded out. + +At last a day came when the monotony of her life was interrupted. She +was looking out of her window when she was startled by the sound of a +carriage coming up the main avenue. The sound filled her with +excitement. It could not be Wiggins. It must be some one for her, some +friend--Miss Plympton herself. Her heart beat fast at the thought. Yes, +it must be Miss Plympton. She had not given her up. She had been +laboring for her deliverance, and now she was coming, armed with the +authority of the law, to effect her release. Edith's first impulse was +to hurry down and meet the carriage, but long and frequent +disappointment had taught her the need of restraint, and so she remained +at the window till the carriage came into view. + +Well was it for her that she had tried to repress her hopes, and had +forborne to rush down at her first impulse. One glance showed her that +the new-comers were strangers. It was a handsome barouche that she saw, +and in it were a lady and a gentleman, neither of whom she had seen +before. But even in the midst of her disappointment hope still found a +place, and the thought occurred to her that though these might not be +familiar to her, they yet might be friends, and might even have been +sent by Miss Plympton. But, if so, how came they here? Did they have +any trouble at the gate? How was it that Wiggins relaxed his +regulations in their favor? Could they be friends of his own, after all? +Yes, it must be so. + +Filled with thoughts like these, which thus alternated between hope and +fear, Edith watched the new-comers, as the carriage rolled up to the +Hall, with something of the same emotions that fill the shipwrecked +sailor as he watches the progress of a lifeboat that comes to save him. +Even now it was with difficulty that she prevented herself from rushing +down and meeting them, and imploring their help at once. But she +restrained her impatience with a great effort, and summing up all her +self-control, she waited. + +She heard the great bell resounding through the long halls; she heard +the footsteps of Mrs. Dunbar as she went down. Then there was a long +delay, after which Mrs. Dunbar returned and entered the room. She +appeared troubled, and there was on her face a larger share than usual +of that anxious, fearful watchfulness which made its wonted expression. +There was also something more--something that seemed like utter +consternation and bewilderment; she was as white as ashes; her hands +clutched one another convulsively; her eyes were fixed in an abstracted +gaze on vacancy; and when she spoke it was in a low voice like a +whisper, and in scarcely articulate words. + +"Some one--to see you." + +That was all that Mrs. Dunbar said. + +"To see me!" repeated Edith, starting from her chair, and too excited to +notice Mrs. Dunbar's manner. Hope arose once more, eager and +unrestrained, and without stopping a moment to ask any thing about them, +or to make any preparations to see them, she hurried down, fearing lest +the smallest delay might be dangerous. + +On entering the room the visitors introduced themselves as Captain and +Mrs. Mowbray; but as the captain was young, and Mrs. Mowbray apparently +about fifty, they appeared to Edith to be mother and son. + +Mrs. Mowbray's features showed that in her youth she might have been +beautiful; yet there was an expression on them which was not attractive +to Edith, being a compound of primness and inanity, which made her look +like a superannuated fashion plate. She was elaborately dressed: a rich +robe of very thick silk, a frisette with showy curls, a bonnet with many +ornaments of ribbons and flowers, and a heavy Cashmere shawl--such was +her costume. Her eyes were undeniably fine, and a white veil covered her +face, which to Edith looked as though it was painted or powdered. + +The gentleman at first sight seemed like a remarkably handsome man. He +was tall and well formed; chestnut hair curled short over his wide brow; +square chin, whiskers of the intensely fashionable sort, and heavy +mustache. His eyes were gray, and his features were regular and finely +chiseled. + +In spite of Edith's longing for friends, there was something in the +appearance of these two which excited a feeling akin to aversion in her +mind; and this was more particularly the case with regard to Captain +Mowbray. As he looked at her there was a cold, hard light in his eyes +which gave her the idea of a cruel and pitiless nature; and there was a +kind of cynicism in his tone when he spoke which repelled her at once. +He had all the air of a roué, yet even roués have often a savor of jolly +recklessness about them, which conciliates. About this man, however, +there was nothing of this; there was nothing but cold, cynical +self-regard, and Edith saw in him one who might be as hateful as even +Wiggins, and far more to be dreaded. + +"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Mowbray, "that we are intruders on your +seclusion; but we waited some time, and at last concluded to break in +upon you in spite of your rigid restrictions. But others have +anticipated us, I presume, and so perhaps you will pardon us." + +"My seclusion is not my own choice," said Edith, mournfully. "You are +the first whom I have seen." + +"Then, my dear Miss Dalton, since we are not unwelcome, I feel very glad +that we have ventured. May I hope that we will see a great deal of one +another?" + +Mrs. Mowbray's manner of speaking was essentially in keeping with her +appearance. It may be called a fashion-plate style. It was both fluent +and insincere. She spoke in what is sometimes called a "made +voice"--that is to say, a voice not her own, made up for company--a +florid falsetto: a tone that Edith detested. + +Could she throw herself upon the sympathies of these? Who were they? +Might they not be in league with Wiggins for some purpose unknown to +her? It was curious that these strangers were able to pass the gates +which were shut to all the rest of the world. These were her thoughts, +and she determined to find out from these Mowbrays, if possible, how it +was that they got in. + +"Had you any difficulty at the gates with the porter?" asked Edith. + +"Oh no," said Captain Mowbray, "not the least." + +"Did he offer no resistance?" + +"Certainly not. Why should he?" + +"Because he has been in the habit of turning back all visitors." + +"Ah," said Mowbray, listlessly, "that is a thing you ought not to +allow." + +"I was afraid," said Edith, "that he had tried to keep you back." + +"Me?" said Mowbray, with strong emphasis. "He knows better than that, I +fancy." + +"And yet he is capable of any amount of insolence." + +"Indeed?" said Mowbray, languidly. "Then why don't you turn him off, +and get a civil man?" + +"Because--because," said Edith, in a tremulous voice, "there is one here +who--who countermands all my orders." + +"Ah!" said Mowbray, in a listless tone, which seemed to say that he took +no interest whatever in these matters. + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Mowbray, in a querulous voice. "Servants are such +dreadful plagues. Worry! why, it's nothing else but worry! And they're +so shockingly impertinent. They really have no sense of respect. I +don't know for my part what the world's coming to. I suppose it's all +these dreadful radicals and newspapers and working-men's clubs and +things. When I was young it was not so." + +"You have not been in Dalton Hall since you were a young girl, Miss +Dalton?" said Mowbray, inquiringly. + +"No; not for ten years." + +"Do you find it much changed?" + +"Very much--and for the worse. I have had great difficulties to contend +with." + +"Indeed?" said Mowbray, indifferently. + +"Well, at any rate, you have a noble old place, with every thing around +you to make you enjoy life." + +"Yes--all but one thing." + +"Ah?" + +"I am a prisoner here, Captain Mowbray," said Edith, with an appealing +glance and a mournful tone. + +"Ah, really?" said Mowbray; and taking up a book he began to turn over +the leaves in a careless way. + +"A prisoner?" put in Mrs. Mowbray. "Yes, and so you are. It's like +imprisonment, this dreadful mourning. But one has to act in accordance +with public sentiment. And I suppose you grieve very much, my dear, for +your poor dear papa. Poor man! I remember seeing him once in London. It +was my first season. There were Lord Rutland and the Marquis of Abercorn +and the young Duke of Severn--all the rage. Do you know, my dear, I was +quite a belle then." + +From this beginning Mrs. Mowbray went on to chatter about the gayeties +of her youth--and Lord A, how handsome he was; and Sir John B, how rich +he was; and Colonel C, how extravagant he was. Then she wandered off to +the subject of state balls, described the dress she wore at her first +presentation at court, and the appearance of his Gracious Majesty King +George, and how he was dressed, and who were with him, and what he +said--while all the time poor Edith, who was longing for an opportunity +to tell them about herself, sat quivering with impatience and agitation. + +During all this time Captain Mowbray looked bored, and sat examining the +furniture and Edith alternately. He made no effort to take part in the +conversation, but seemed anxious to bring the visit to a close. This +Edith saw with a sinking heart. These, then, were the ones from whom she +had hoped assistance. But unpromising as these were, they formed just +now her only hope, and so, as they at length rose to go, Edith grew +desperate, and burst forth in a low but quick and excited tone. + +"Wait one moment," said she, "and excuse me if I give you trouble; but +the position I am in forces me to appeal to you for help, though you are +only strangers. I am actually imprisoned in this place. A man +here--Wiggins, the late steward--confines me within these grounds, and +will not let me go out, nor will he allow any of my friends to come and +see me. He keeps me a prisoner under strict watch. Wherever I go about +the grounds I am followed. He will not even allow my friends to write to +me. I am the owner, but he is the master. Captain Mowbray, I appeal to +you. You are an officer and a gentleman. Save me from this cruel +imprisonment! I want nothing but liberty. I want to join my friends, +and gain my rights. I entreat you to help me, or if you can not help me +yourself, let others know, or send me a lawyer, or take a letter for me +to some friends." + +And with these words poor Edith sank back into the chair from which she +had risen, and sobbed aloud. She had spoken in feverish, eager tones, +and her whole frame quivered with agitation. + +Mrs. Mowbray listened to her with a complacent smile, and when Edith +sank back in her chair she sat down too, and taking out her handkerchief +and a bottle of salts, began to apply the one to her eyes and the other +to her nose alternately. As for Captain Mowbray, he coolly resumed his +seat, yawned, and then sat quietly looking first at Edith and then at +Mrs. Mowbray. At length Edith by a violent effort regained her +self-control, and looking at the captain, she said, indignantly, + +"You say nothing, Sir. Am I to think that you refuse this request?" + +"By no means," said Captain Mowbray, dryly. "Silence is said usually to +signify consent." + +"You will help me, then, after all?" cried Edith, earnestly. + +"Wait a moment," said Captain Mowbray, a little abruptly. "Who is this +man, Miss Dalton, of whom you complain?" + +"Wiggins." + +"Wiggins?" said Mowbray. "Ah! was he not the steward of your late +father?" + +"Yes." + +"I have heard somewhere that he was appointed your guardian. Is that +so?" + +"I don't know," said Edith. "He claims to be my guardian; but I am of +age, and I don't see how he can be." + +"The law of guardianship is very peculiar," said Mowbray. "Perhaps he +has right on his side." + +"Right!" cried Edith, warmly. "How can he have the right to restrict my +liberty, and make me a prisoner on my own estate. I am of age. The +estate is absolutely mine. He is only a servant. Have I no rights +whatever?" + +"I should say you had," said Mowbray, languidly stroking his mustache. +"I should say you had, of course. But this guardian business is a +troublesome thing, and Wiggins, as your guardian, may have a certain +amount of power." + +Edith turned away impatiently. + +"I hoped," said she, "that the mere mention of my situation would be +enough to excite your sympathy. I see that I was mistaken, and am sorry +that I have troubled you." + +"You are too hasty," said Mowbray. "You see, I look at your position +merely from a legal point of view." + +"A legal point!" exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray, who had now dried her eyes and +restored the handkerchief and the salts bottle to their proper places. +"A legal point! Ah, Miss Dalton, my son is great on legal points. He +is quite a lawyer. If he had embraced the law as a profession, which I +once thought of getting him to do, though that was when he was quite a +child, and something or other put it quite out of my head--if he had +embraced the law as a profession, my dear, he might have aspired to the +bench." + +Edith rested her brow on her hand and bit her lips, reproaching herself +for having confided her troubles to these people. Wiggins himself was +more endurable. + +"Your case," said Captain Mowbray, tapping his boot with his cane in a +careless manner, "is one which requires a very great amount of careful +consideration." + +Edith said nothing. She had become hopeless. + +"If there is a will, and Wiggins has powers given him in the instrument, +he can give you a great deal of trouble without your being able to +prevent it." + +This scene was becoming intolerable, and Edith could bear it no longer. + +"I want to make one final request," said she, with difficulty +controlling the scorn and indignation which she felt. "It is this--will +you give me a seat in your carriage as far as the village inn?" + +"The village inn?" repeated Mowbray, and the he was silent for some +time. His mother looked at him inquiringly and curiously. + +"I have friends," said Edith, "and I will go to them. All that I ask of +you is the drive of a few rods to the village inn. You can leave me +there, and I will never trouble you again." + +"Well, really, Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, after another pause, in which +Edith suffered frightful suspense--"really, your request is a singular +one. I would do any thing for you--but this is different. You see, you +are a sort of ward, and to carry you away from the control of your +guardian might be a very dangerous offense." + +"In fact, you are afraid, I see," said Edith, bitterly. "Well, you need +say no more. I will trouble you no further." + +Saying this, she rose and stood in all her stately beauty before +them--cold, haughty, and without a trace of emotion left. They were +struck by the change. Thus far she had appeared a timid, agitated, +frightened girl; they now saw in her something of that indomitable +spirit which had already baffled and perplexed her jailers. + +"We hope to see more of you," said Mrs. Mowbray. "We shall call again +soon." + +To this Edith made no reply, but saw them to the drawing-room door. Then +they descended the stairs and entered the carriage, and she heard them +drive off. Then she went up to her room, and sat looking out of the +window. + +"He is worse than Wiggins," she muttered. "He is a gentleman, but a +villain--and a ruined one too--perhaps in the pay of Wiggins. Wiggins +sent him here." + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +A PANIC AMONG THE JAILERS. + +The arrival of these visitors had produced an extraordinary effect upon +Mrs. Dunbar. So great was her agitation that she could scarcely +announce them to Edith. So great was it that, though she was Edith's +jailer, she did not dream of denying them the privilege of seeing her, +but summoned Edith at once, as though she was free mistress of the +house. + +After Edith had gone down the agitation of Mrs. Dunbar continued, and +grew even greater. She sank into a chair, and buried her face in her +hands. In that position she remained motionless for a long time, and was +at length aroused by the return of Edith from her interview with her +visitors. Upon her entrance Mrs. Dunbar started up suddenly, and with +downcast face left the room, without exciting any attention from Edith, +who was too much taken up with her own thoughts about her visitors to +notice any thing unusual about the appearance of her housekeeper. + +Leaving Edith's room, Mrs. Dunbar walked along the hall with slow and +uncertain step, and at length reached a room at the west end. The door +was closed. She knocked. A voice cried, "Come in," and she entered. It +was a large room, and it looked out upon the grounds in front of the +house. A desk was in the middle, which was covered with papers. All +around were shelves filled with books. It seemed to be a mixture of +library and office. At the desk sat Wiggins, who looked up, as Mrs. +Dunbar entered, with his usual solemn face. + +Into this room Mrs. Dunbar entered without further ceremony, and after +walking a few paces found a chair, into which she sank with something +like a groan. Wiggins looked at her in silence, and regarding her with +that earnest glance which was usual with him. Mrs. Dunbar sat for a few +moments without saying a word, with her face buried in her hands, as it +had been in Edith's room; but at length she raised her head, and looked +at Wiggins. Her face was still deathly pale, her hands twitched the +folds of her dress convulsively, and her eyes had a glassy stare that +was almost terrible. It could be no common thing that had caused such +deep emotion in one who was usually so self-contained. + +At last she spoke. + +"I have seen him!" said she, in a low tone, which was hardly raised +above a whisper. + +Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time, and at length said, in a +low voice, + +"He is here, then?" + +"He is here," said Mrs. Dunbar. "But have you seen him? Why did you not +tell me that he was here? The shock was terrible. You ought to have +told me." + +Wiggins sighed. + +"I intended to do so," said he; "but I did not know that he would come +so soon." + +"When did you see him?" asked Mrs. Dunbar, abruptly. + +"Yesterday--only yesterday." + +"You knew him at once, of course, from his extraordinary likeness to--to +the other one. I wish you had told me. Oh, how I wish you had told me! +The shock was terrible." + +And saying this, Mrs. Dunbar gave a deep sigh that was like a groan. + +"The fact is," said Wiggins, "I have been trying to conjecture how he +came here, and as I did not think he would come to the Hall--at least, +not just yet--I thought I would spare you. Forgive me if I have made a +mistake. I had no idea that he was coming to the Hall." + +"How could he have come here?" said Mrs. Dunbar. "What possible thing +could have sent him?" + +"Well," said Wiggins, "I can understand that easily enough. This Miss +Plympton you know, as I told you, threatened that she would go to see +Lionel. I forgot to ask her about that when I saw her, but it seems now +that she must have carried out her threat. She has undoubtedly gone to +see Lionel, and Lionel has sent his boy instead of coming himself. Had +he only come himself, all would have been well. That is the chief thing +that I hoped for. But he has not chosen to come, and so here is the son +instead of the father. It is unfortunate; it delays matters most +painfully; but we must bear it." + +"Do you think Lionel can suspect?" asked Mrs. Dunbar, anxiously. + +"Suspect? Not he. I think that he objected to come himself for a very +good reason. He has good grounds for declining to revisit Dalton Hall. +He has sent his son to investigate, and how this enterprise will end +remains to be seen." + +"I don't see how he managed to get into the place at all," said Mrs. +Dunbar. "Wilkins is usually very particular." + +"Well," said Wiggins, "I can understand that only too well. +Unfortunately he recognized Wilkins. My porter is unknown here, but any +one from Lionel's place whose memory reaches back ten years will easily +know him--the desperate poacher and almost murderer, whose affair with +the gamekeeper of Dudleigh Manor cost him a sentence of transportation +for twenty years. His face is one that does not change much, and so he +was recognized at once. He came to me in a terrible way, frightened to +death for fear of a fresh arrest; but I calmed him. I went to the lodge +myself, and yesterday I saw _him_. I knew him at once, of course." + +"But did he recognize you?" cried Mrs. Dunbar, in a voice full of fresh +agitation. + +"I fear so," said Wiggins. + +At this Mrs. Dunbar started to her feet, and stared at Wiggins with a +face full of terror. Then gradually her strength failed, and she sank +back again, but her face still retained the same look. + +"He did not recognize me at first," said Wiggins. "He seemed puzzled; +but as I talked with him, and heard his threats about Wilkins, and about +what he called Edith's imprisonment, he seemed gradually to find out +all, or to surmise it. It could not have been my face; it must have been +my voice, for that unfortunately has not changed, and he once knew that +well, in the old days when he was visiting here. At any rate, he made it +out, and from that moment tried to impress upon me that I was in his +power." + +"And did you tell him--all?" + +"I--I told him nothing. I let him think what he chose. I was not going, +to break through my plans for his sake, nor for the sake of his foolish +threats. But in thus forbearing I had to tolerate him, and hence this +visit. He thinks that I am in his power. He does, not understand. But I +shall have to let him come here, or else make every thing known, and for +that I am not at all prepared as yet. But oh, if it had only been +Lionel!--if it had only been Lionel!" + +"And so," said Mrs. Dunbar, after a long silence, "he knows all." + +"He knows nothing," said Wiggins. "It is his ignorance and my own +patient waiting that make him bold. But tell me this--did he recognize +you?" + +At this question Mrs. Dunbar looked with a fixed, rigid stare at +Wiggins. Her lips quivered. For a moment she could not speak. + +"He--he looked at me," said she, in a faltering voice--"he looked at me, +but I was so overcome at the sight of him that my brain whirled. I was +scarcely conscious of any thing. I heard him ask for Edith, and I +hurried away. But oh, how hard--how hard it is! Oh, was ever any one in +such a situation? To see him here--to see that face and hear that voice! +Oh, what can I do--what can I do?" + +And with these words Mrs. Dunbar broke down. Once more her head sank, +and burying her face in her hands, she wept and sobbed convulsively. +Wiggins looked at her, and as he looked there came over his face an +expression of unutterable pity and sympathy, but he said not a word. As +he looked at her he leaned his head on his hand, and a low, deep, +prolonged sigh escaped him, that seemed to come from the depths of his +being. + +They sat in silence for a long time. Mrs. Dunbar was the first to break +that silence. She roused herself by a great effort, and said, + +"Have you any idea what his object may be in coming here, or what +Lionel's object may be in sending him?" + +"Well," said Wiggins, "I don't know. I thought at first when I saw him +that Lionel had some idea of looking after the estate, to see if he +could get control of it in any way; but this call seems to show that +Edith enters into their design in some way. Perhaps he thinks of paying +attentions to her," he added, in a tone of bitterness. + +"And would that be a thing to be dreaded?" asked Mrs. Dunbar, anxiously. + +"Most certainly," said Wiggins. + +"Would you blame the son for the misdeeds of the father?" she asked, in +the same tone. + +"No," said Wiggins; "but when the son is so evidently a counterpart of +the father, I should say that Edith ought to be preserved from him." + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Dunbar. "I'm afraid you judge too hastily. It +may be for the best. Who knows?" + +"It can only be for the worst," said Wiggins, with solemn emphasis. + +"There is a woman with him," said Mrs. Dunbar, suddenly changing the +conversation. "Who can she be?" + +"A woman? What kind of a woman?" + +"Elderly. I never saw her before. He calls himself Mowbray, and she is +Mrs. Mowbray. What can be the meaning of that? The woman seems old +enough to be his mother." + +"Old?" said Wiggins. "Ah--Mowbray--h'm! It must be some design of his on +Edith. He brings this woman, so as to make a formal call. He will not +tell her who he is. I don't like the look of this, and, what is worse, I +don't know what to do. I could prohibit his visits, but that would be to +give up my plans, and I can not do that yet. I must run the risk. As for +Edith, she is mad. She is beyond my control. She drives me to despair." + +"I do not see what danger there is for Edith in his visits," said Mrs. +Dunbar, in a mournful voice. + +"Danger!" said Wiggins. "A man like that!" + +"You are judging him too hastily," said Mrs. Dunbar. + +Wiggins looked at her in silence for a moment, and then said, + +"I hope I am, I'm sure, for your sake; but I'm afraid that I am right +and that you are wrong." + +After some further conversation Mrs. Dunbar retired, carrying with her +in her face and in her heart that deep concern and that strong agitation +which had been excited by the visit of Mowbray. Edith, when she next saw +her, noticed this, and for a long time afterward wondered to herself why +it was that such a change had come over the housekeeper. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +ANOTHER VISIT + +About two weeks afterward the Mowbrays called again. Edith was a little +surprised at this, for she had not expected another visit; but on the +whole she felt glad, and could not help indulging in some vague hope +that this call would be for her good. + +"I am sorry," said she to Mrs. Mowbray, "that I have not been able to +return your call. But I have already explained how I am imprisoned +here." + +[Illustration: "IT WAS A CHILD."] + +"Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Mowbray, "pray don't speak of that. We feel for +you, I assure you. Nothing is more unpleasant than a bereavement. It +makes such a change in all one's life, you know. And then black does not +become some people; they persist in visiting, too; but then, do you +know, they really look to me like perfect frights. Not that you look +otherwise than well, dear Miss Dalton. In fact, I should think that in +any dress you would look perfectly charming; but that is because you are +a brunette. Some complexions are positively out of all keeping with +black. Have you ever noticed that? Oh yes, dear Miss Dalton," continued +Mrs. Mowbray, after a short pause. "Brunettes are best in black--mark my +words, now; and blondes are never effective in that color. They do +better in bright colors. It is singular, isn't it? You, now, my dear, +may wear black with impunity; and since you are called on in the +mysterious dispensation of Providence to mourn, you ought at least to be +grateful that you are a brunette. If you were a blonde, I really do not +know what would ever become of you. Now, I am a blonde--but in spite of +that I have been called on to mourn. It--it was a child." + +As Mrs. Mowbray said this she applied the handkerchief and +smelling-bottle for a few minutes. + +"A child!" said Edith, in wonder. + +"Yes, dear--a sweet son, aged twelve, leaving me to mourn over him. And +as I was saying, my mourning did not become my complexion at all. That +was what troubled me so. Really, a blonde ought never to lose +friends--it is so unbecoming. Positively, Providence ought to arrange +things differently." + +"It would be indeed well if blondes or any other people could be saved +from sorrow," said Edith. + +"It would be charming, would it not?" said Mrs. Mowbray. "Now, when my +child died, I mourned for him most deeply--indeed, as deep as that," she +said, stretching out her hands so as to measure a space of about +eighteen inches--"most deeply: a border around the skirt of solid crape +half a yard wide; bonnet smothered in crape; and really and positively I +myself was literally all crape, I do believe; and with my light +complexion, what people could have thought, I'm sure I do not know." + +"There is not much to choose between mother and son," thought Edith. +"They are capable of any baseness, they are so heartless. There is no +hope here." Yet in spite of such thoughts she did not shun them. Why +not? How could an honorable nature like hers associate with such +people? Between them and herself was a deep gulf, and no sympathy +between them was possible. The reason why she did not shun them lay +solely in her own loneliness. Any thing in the shape of a human being +was welcome rather than otherwise, and even people whom she despised +served to mitigate the gloom of her situation. They made the time pass +by, and that of itself was something. + +"I went into half-mourning as soon as I could," continued Mrs. Mowbray; +"but even half-mourning was very disagreeable. You may depend upon it, +no shade of black ought ever to be brought near a blonde. Half-mourning +is quite as bad as deep mourning." + +"You must have had very much to bear," said Edith, absently. + +"I should think I had. I really could not go into society, except, of +course, to make calls, for that one _must_ do, and even then I felt +like a guy--for how absurd I must have looked with such an inharmonious +adjustment of colors! But you, my dear Miss Dalton, seem made by nature +to go in mourning." + +"Yes," said Edith, with a sigh which she could not suppress; "nature has +been lavish to me in that way--of late." + +"You really ought always to mourn," said Mrs. Mowbray, in a sprightly +tone. + +"I'm afraid I shall always have to, whether I wish it or not," said +Edith, with another sigh. + +"You are such a remarkable brunette--quite an Italian; your complexion +is almost olive, and your hair is the blackest I ever saw. It is all +dark with you." + +"Yes, it is indeed all dark with me," said Edith, sadly. + +"The child that I lost," said Mrs. Mowbray, after a pause, "was a very +nice child, but he was not at all like my son here. You often find great +differences in families. I suppose he resembled one side of the family, +and the captain the other." + +"You have lived here for a good many years?" said Edith, abruptly +changing the conversation. + +"Oh yes," said Mrs. Mowbray, "It's a very nice county--don't you think +so?" + +"I really have not had an opportunity of judging." + +"No? Of course not; you are mourning. But when you are done mourning, +and go into society, you will find many very nice people. There are the +Congreves, the Wiltons, the Symbolts, and Lord Connomore, and the Earl +of Frontington, and a thousand delightful people whom one likes to +know." + +"You do not belong to the county, do you?" + +"N--no; my family belongs to Berks," said Mrs. Mowbray. "You don't know +any thing about Berks, I suppose? I'm a Fydill." + +"A fiddle?" said Edith, somewhat bewildered, for Mrs. Mowbray pronounced +her family name in that way, and appeared to take great pride in it. + +"Yes," said she, "a Fydill--one of the oldest families there. Every one +has heard of the Fydills of Berks. I suppose you have never been there, +and so have not had the opportunity of hearing about them." + +"No," said Edith; "I have passed most of my life at school." + +"Of course. You are so deliciously young. And oh, Miss Dalton, what a +delightful thing it is to be young! One is so admired, and has so many +advantages! It is a sad, sad thing that one grows old so soon. I'm so +gray, I'm sure I look like eighty. But, after all, I'm not so very old. +There's Lady Poyntz, twice my age, who goes into society most +energetically; and old Miss De Frissure, who, by-the-way, is enormously +rich, actually rides on horseback, and she is old enough to be my +mother; and Mrs. Rannig, the rich widow--you must have heard about +her--positively does nothing but dance; and old Mrs. Scott, the +brewer's, wife, who has recently come here, whenever she gives balls for +her daughters, always dances more than any one. All these people are +very much older than I am; and so I say to myself, 'Helen, my dear, you +are quite a girl; why shouldn't you enjoy yourself?' And so I do enjoy +myself." + +"I suppose, then, that you like dancing?" said Edith, who, in spite of +her sadness, found a mournful amusement in the idea of this woman +dancing. + +"I'm par-tic-u-lar-ly fond of dancing," said Mrs. Mowbray, with strong +emphasis. "Only the young men are so rude! They fly about after young +chits of girls, and don't notice me. And so I don't often have an +opportunity, you know. But there is a German gentleman here--a baron, my +dear--and he is very polite. He sometimes asks me to dance, and I enjoy +it very much, only he is so short and fat and bald that I fear he looks +very ridiculous. But the young men, Miss Dalton, are very, very +neglectful." + +"That is a pity," said Edith. + +"Oh, they are so, I do assure you. Now that is the very thing that I +have tried to impress upon the captain. 'My dearest boy,' I have always +said, 'mind the ladies. That is the first and highest duty of a true +gentleman. Particularly those ladies who are mature. Don't confine your +attentions to giddy and thoughtless girls. There are many ladies at +every ball of estimable character, and sometimes even of considerable +wealth, who deserve your attentions far more than those poor young +creatures who have nothing more to recommend them than their childish +good looks.' And I trust my son has not failed to profit by my advice. +At balls he does not often seek out the young, but rather the old. +Indeed, so marked is his preference for married ladies that all the +younger ones notice it and resent it, so that they have formed really +quite an aversion to him; and now, whether he will or not, he has to +dance exclusively with the elder ones. Once he danced with me, and it +was a proud moment for me, I assure you." + +"I should think so," said Edith, with a look at Mowbray. "But still, is +it not strange that young ladies should refuse to dance with one who is +an officer and a gentleman?" + +During the whole of this conversation the captain had said nothing, but +had been sitting turning over the leaves of a book, and furtively +watching Edith's face and manner. When the conversation turned upon +him, however, his face flushed, and he looked angrily at Mrs. Mowbray. +At last, as Edith spoke, he started, and said: + +"See here, now! I don't think it's altogether the correct thing to make +remarks about a gentleman in his presence. I'm aware that ladies are +given to gossip, but they generally do it behind a fellow's back. I've +done nothing to deserve this just now." + +"There was nothing offensive in my remark," said Edith, quietly. + +"Oh," said Mrs. Mowbray, "my son is very quick and very sensitive, and +very nice on a point of honor. He is the most punc-til-i-ous man you +ever saw;" and Mrs. Mowbray held up her hands, lost in amazement at the +conception which was in her mind of the punctiliousness of her son. +"But, my dear Miss Dalton," she continued, "he is quick to forgive. He +don't bear malice." + +"Haven't I said," growled Mowbray, "that I don't like this! Talk of me +behind my back, if you choose. You can't imagine that it's particularly +pleasant for a fellow to sit here and listen to all that rot." + +"But, my son," said Mrs. Mowbray, fondly, "it's all love." + +"Oh, bother your love!" muttered this affectionate son. + +"Well, then, you naughty, sensitive boy," said Mrs. Mowbray, "I will +come here by myself, and tell dear Miss Dalton all about you behind your +back. I will tell her about some of your adventures in London, and she +will see what a naughty, wicked, rakish fellow you have been. He is +sadly like me, dear Miss Dalton--so sensitive, and so fond of society." + +Edith gave a polite smile, but said nothing. + +Then the conversation lagged for a little while. At length Edith, full +of the idea that Wiggins had sent them for some purpose, and desirous of +finding out whether her suspicions were correct or not, said, in a +careless tone, + +"I suppose you know this Wiggins very well?" + +"Mr. Wiggins?" said Mrs. Mowbray, quickly. "Oh yes; my son and he often +meet, though for my part I know little or nothing about the man." + +"Pooh!" cried Mowbray, interrupting her. "Miss Dalton, Mrs. Mowbray is +so talkative that she often says things that she does not mean, or, at +least, things that are liable to mislead others. I have met Wiggins, it +is true, but do not imagine that he is a friend of mine. On the +contrary, he has reason to hate me quite as much as he hates you. Your +idea of any connection between him and me, which I plainly see you hint +at, is altogether wrong, and you would not have even suspected this if +you knew me better." + +"You came here so easily," said Edith, "that I very naturally supposed +that you were on friendly terms." + +"I come here easily," said Mowbray, "not because he is my friend, but +because he is so afraid of me that he does not dare to keep me back." + +"You understand, then," said Edith, "that he keeps others back. If you +have such power over him, how is it that you can calmly stand by and see +him imprison a free-born and a high-born English lady?" + +"Oh," muttered Mowbray, "I don't know any thing about that. He is your +guardian, and you are his ward, and the law is a curious thing that I do +not understand." + +"Yet Mrs. Mowbray says that you are distinguished for your knowledge of +legal points," said Edith. + +Mowbray made no reply, and in a few moments Mrs. Mowbray rose to go. + +"Positively," said she, "my dear Miss Dalton, we must see more of one +another; and since your mourning confines you here, I must come often, +and I know very well that we shall all be great friends." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "BECAUSE I BEAT HIM."] + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +A STROKE FOR LIBERTY. + +The Mowbrays came occasionally, but no others ever managed to get +through the gates. Edith could not help feeling a sort of resentment +against these people, who thus were able to do what no others could do, +and came to her so easily whenever they wished. Still she did not think +it worth while to refuse to see them. They beguiled the monotony of her +life, and she still had a half hope that something might result from +their visits. Even if they were in the pay of Wiggins, as she believed, +they yet might feel inclined to assist her, from the hope of larger pay, +and she hoped that the occasion might arise in which she might be able +to hint at such a thing. As yet they met her on an equal footing, and in +spite of her contempt for them, she did not quite like the idea of +regularly offering them a bribe to assist her. Yet she thought that the +time might come when she could do so, and this thought sustained her. + +In her visits Mrs. Mowbray still prattled and chattered in her usual +manner about her usual themes. Dress, society, and the incivility of +young men seemed to be her favorite topics. The captain usually came +with her, and seemed desirous to do the agreeable to Edith, but either +from a natural lack of gallantry, or from the discouraging treatment +which he received from her, he was somewhat unsuccessful. + +About two months after his first call the captain came alone. He was on +horseback, and was accompanied by a magnificent Newfoundland dog, which +Edith had noticed once or twice before. On seeing Edith he showed more +animation than was usual with him, and evidently was endeavoring, to the +best of his power, to make himself agreeable. + +"I have come, Miss Dalton," said he, after the usual greetings, "to see +if you would do me the honor of going out riding with me." + +"Riding?" said Edith; "you are very kind, I am sure; but will you pardon +me if I first ask you where you propose to take me?" + +"Oh, about the park," said Mowbray, somewhat meekly. + +"The park?" said Edith, in a tone of disappointment. "Is that all? Why, +Captain Mowbray, this park is only my jail yard, and to go about it can +not be very pleasant, to a prisoner, either on horseback or on foot. But +surely I do not understand you. I must be too hasty. Of course you mean +to do as every gentleman would do, and let the lady select the place +where she wishes to go?" + +"I assure you Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, "I should be most happy to do +so if I were able; but you are not allowed to go out of the park, you +know." + +"Who prohibits me, pray?" + +"Wiggins." + +"Wiggins! And why should you care for any of his regulations? Do you +not know who he is, and what he is, and in what position he stands +toward me?" + +"Oh, well," said Mowbray, in a hesitating voice, "he is your guardian, +you know." + +"But I am of age," said Edith. "Guardians can not imprison their wards +as he imprisons me. I am of age. I own this place. It is mine. He may +have some right to attend to its business for the present, but he has no +right over me. The law protects me. You know that as well as I do." + +"Yes, true; but--ah--you know--ah--you are really so very +_peculiarly_ situated, Miss Dalton, that I should not like to do +any thing which might compromise your--ah--position." + +"Surely, Captain Mowbray, you must now be speaking without thinking. In +what way, pray, can it compromise my position to ride with you through +the village streets, rather than over the roads of the park?" + +"Well--ah--you are in mourning, you know." + +"Really I do not see what that has to do with it. If I have the sorrow +of bereavement, that is no reason why I should have the additional +sorrow of imprisonment." + +"Oh, you know, Wiggins would make a fuss about it, and put you to no end +of trouble." + +Mowbray's unwillingness to help her, and hesitation, had once before +roused Edith's indignation; but now she believed him to be in Wiggins's +employ, and therefore felt calm, and talked with him chiefly for the +sake of seeing what she could get out of him, either in the way of +explanation or concession. + +"When you speak of trouble," said she, "I think it is I who will give +trouble to him rather than undergo it from him." + +"Oh, well--either way," said Mowbray, "there would be trouble, and that +is what I wish to avoid." + +"Gentlemen are not usually so timid about encountering trouble on behalf +of a lady," said Edith, coldly. + +"Oh, well, you know, if it were ordinary trouble I wouldn't mind it, but +this is legal trouble. Why, before I knew where I was I might be +imprisoned, and how would I like that?" + +"Not very well, as I can testify," said Edith. + +"Believe me, Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, with a desperate effort to +appear earnest and devoted, "there is nothing that I would not do for +you, and I feel exceedingly pained that you are not content with your +present position; but you see I do not want to put myself in the +clutches of the law if I can help it. Wiggins is an enemy of mine, as I +told you, and only tolerates me here because he dare not prevent +me--neither he nor his man; but--ah--you know--that is--I +mean--he--ah--he watches me very closely, you know, and if I were to do +any thing that he could lay hold of, he would be very glad to do so, and +put me to trouble and expense--no end." + +Here Edith understood once more a profession of enmity against Wiggins, +but whether it was real or not she could not tell. She believed, +rather, that it was pretended. + +"Oh, I beg of you to make no more excuses," said she. "Your +explanations are quite satisfactory." + +"I have had trouble enough from lawyers," continued Mowbray, "and don't +want to have any more." + +"That is quite prudent in you, and careful." + +"The first thing that a man of the world learns, Miss Dalton," said the +captain, in a confidential tone, "is to take care of himself. That is a +lesson that I have learned by bitter experience, and I have resolved, +among other things, and above all, never, under any circumstances, to +put myself within the grasp of the lawyers; and if you only knew what +bother I've had, you wouldn't blame me." + +"I fear that I must have given you great pain, then," said Edith, "by +even hinting at such a thing as taking my part and helping me. You feel +so strongly about your personal safety that you must have been deeply +agitated at such a proposal from me." + +"Oh, well," said the captain, not choosing to notice the sarcasm of +Edith's tone, "one grows wiser from experience, you know, and mine has +been a bitter one. I would gladly open your gates for you, I assure you, +if I could do it without danger, and if Wiggins had no authority; but as +it is, I really do not see how I can possibly interfere." + +"Well, for that matter," said Edith, "if it were not for Wiggins, I +suppose I could open the gates for myself, and so I could save you even +that trouble." + +Mowbray made no reply to this, but merely stroked his mustache. + +"After all," said he at last, "I don't see why you should be so +discontented here. There are many who would be glad to live as you do, +in so magnificent a house, with such noble grounds. You have every thing +that you want. Why you should be so discontented I can not imagine. If +you did get out, and live in the village, you would not like it. It's +not a pleasant place. For my part I would much rather live where you do +than where I do. If you would confine your attention to this place, and +give up all ideas of getting away, you might be as happy as the day is +long." + +Saying this, the captain looked at Edith to see the effect of his words. +Edith was looking at him with a very strange expression, something like +what may appear in the face of the naturalist at discovering an animal +of some new species--an expression of interest and surprise and +curiosity. + +"So those are your sentiments?" she said; and that was all. + +"Yes," said the captain. + +"Well," said Edith, "it may be my misfortune, but I think differently." + +"At any rate," said the captain, in a more animated tone, "since we can +not agree in this discussion, why not drop it? Will you not ride with me +about the park? I'm sure I like the park very well. I have not become so +tired of it as you have. I have a very nice lady's horse, which is quite +at your disposal." + +At this request Edith was silent for a few moments. The man himself grew +more abhorrent to her, if possible, every moment; but her desire to find +out what his purposes were, and her hope of making use of him still, in +spite of present appearances, made her think that it might be best to +accept his offer. + +"Oh, well," said she, "I have no objection, since you choose to subject +me to such limitations, and I suppose I must add that I thank you." + +"Don't speak of thanks, Miss Dalton," said Mowbray. "Let me say rather +that I thank you from the bottom of my heart." + +Two days after this Mowbray again called on Edith. This time, in +addition to his own horse, he brought another with a lady's saddle, and +was followed by the Newfoundland dog. Edith was soon dressed for the +ride, and joined Mowbray in the drawing-room. As they went out the dog +was sitting on the portico, and leaped forward joyfully at the sight of +his master, but suddenly retreated in fear. + +"It's all very well, Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, "for them to talk about +cruelty to animals, but the only way you can make them fond of you is by +fear. See how that dog loves me. And why? Because I beat him." + +There was something in these words, and in the tone in which they were +spoken, that afforded Edith a new view of Mowbray's character. There +were a ferocity and a cruelty there which were quite in keeping with the +paltriness and meanness which he had already evinced. But Edith kept +silence. In a few moments they were mounted, and rode away side by +side. + +As they turned the corner of the Hall Edith saw a face among the +trees--white, solemn, watchful, stern--and the sight gave her a strange +shock, for it was the face of Wiggins. It seemed to her at that moment +that this man must hate Mowbray, for the glance which he gave was by no +means that of a friend or confederate. Mowbray might, therefore, have +spoken the truth when he said that Wiggins hated him, and if so, he +might now be dreading the presence of this unwelcome guest. This thought +was not unpleasant, for though Mowbray could not be a friend, she +thought it not a bad substitute that he was at least an enemy of +Wiggins. + +The consequence was that she really enjoyed the ride; and Mowbray, +seeing her in good spirits, thought that it arose from more favorable +inclinations toward himself, and exerted himself to please. They rode at +a rapid pace through the long avenues, under magnificent overarching +trees, and over fields and meadows. Mowbray was a fine horseman, and +Edith had been accustomed to riding from childhood, and liked nothing +better than to rush along at headlong speed. She felt exhilaration and +enthusiasm such as she had not known for a long time. As she looked at +Mowbray's splendid figure she could not help regretting that a man with +such rare physical advantages should have, after all, but a craven +spirit. Was it, then, she thought, altogether fear that prevented him +from assisting her to escape? The idea seemed absurd. There must be some +reason of a different kind. She felt certain that he was an unprincipled +villain, and that he had some designs of his own upon her. What they +were she could not imagine. If he wished to gain her hand, he had +certainly taken a singular way to make himself agreeable. He was cruel, +cynical, mean, and sordid, and took no pains to conceal this. He had +advised her to submit to imprisonment, and had refused to help her in +any way. What his designs could possibly be she could not conjecture. + +During the ride but little was said. Mowbray was not talkative at any +time, and on the present occasion he confined himself to remarks which +he intended to be amiable and agreeable. To these Edith made civil +replies. At last they rode back to the Hall, and Mowbray prepared to +dismount. + +"Are you going?" said Edith. "For my part I should rather not dismount +just yet. It is too dull in the house. I would rather ride a little +distance with you, and walk back." + +At this Mowbray looked at her in silence, and with a perplexed +expression on his countenance. + +Edith calmly waited for him to start. + +"Miss Dalton," said he at length, "I really do not know--" And then he +paused. + +"I beg your pardon," said Edith. + +"You see," said Mowbray, "I don't know about your riding any more." + +"Why, surely," said Edith, "you are not going to refuse your horse for a +few minutes longer?" + +Mowbray looked gloomily at her, and then started off. Edith rode by his +side, and they both kept silence until they reached the park gate. + +The porter came out, but on seeing Edith he stopped. + +"It's all right," said Edith. "You see I am with Captain Mowbray." + +Mowbray looked deeply perplexed, and as he said nothing, the porter +began to open the gate. + +"Stop," said Mowbray. + +"What!" cried Edith. "Captain Mowbray, what do you mean?" + +"You must not go out," said Mowbray. + +"I thought you were only going as far as the gate, and would walk back. +You must not try to follow me." + +"Must not?" cried Edith, whom the hope of escape had roused to intense +excitement. "Do you say that to me?" + +"Yes," said Mowbray. + +"What right have you?" said Edith, haughtily. And then turning to the +porter, she said, imperatively, "Open that gate at once." + +But the obdurate porter did not obey her now any more than before. + +"Captain Mowbray," said she, "order that man to open the gate." + +"I will not," said Mowbray, rudely. + +"Then I shall ride by your side till you go out." + +"You shall not." + +"Is that the way that a gentleman speaks to a lady?" + +"You won't get me into trouble, anyway." + +"I don't intend to," said Edith, scornfully. "It is my own act. You +will not take me out, but I go out of my own accord." + +The porter meanwhile stood bewildered, with the gate only partly open, +holding it in this way, and waiting for the end of this singular scene. + +"Miss Dalton," cried Mowbray, fiercely, "you will make me resort to +extreme measures." + +"You dare not!" cried Edith, who by this time was fearfully excited. She +had a horse beneath her now. That horse seemed part of herself. In +that horse's strength and speed she lost her own weakness, and so she +was now resolved to stake every thing on one effort for liberty. + +"Don't force me to it," said Mowbray, "or you will make me do something +that I shall be sorry for." + +"You dare not!" cried Edith again. "Do you dare to threaten me--me, the +mistress of Dalton Hall?" + +"Catch hold of her reins, captain," cried the porter, "and make her go +back." + +"Hold your bloody tongue!" roared Mowbray.--"Miss Dalton, you must go +back." + +"Never!" said Edith. "I will go out when you do." + +"Then I will not go out at all. I will go back to the Hall." + +"You shall not enter it," said Edith, as firmly as though she possessed +the keys of Dalton Hall. + +"Miss Dalton, you force me to use violence." + +[Illustration: IN HER FRENZY EDITH STRUCK THAT HAND AGAIN AND AGAIN.] + +"You dare not use violence," said Edith, with a look that overawed the +craven soul of Mowbray. For Edith now was resolved to do any thing, +however desperate, and even the threat of violence, though she felt that +he was capable of it, did not deter her. The two faced one another in +silence for a few moments, the one strong, muscular, masculine, the +other slight, fragile, delicate; yet in that girlish form there was an +intrepid spirit which Mowbray recognized, defiant, haughty, tameless, +the spirit of all her fathers, strengthened and intensified by a +vehement desire for that liberty that lay outside the gates. + +"Well," said the porter, "I'd better be a-shuttin' the gates till you +two settle yer business. She'll dash through if I don't. I see it in +her eye." + +"No, she won't," said Mowbray. "Don't shut the gates; wait a moment." +Then turning to Edith, he said, + +"Miss Dalton, for the last time, I say go back, or you'll be sorry." +Edith looked steadfastly and sternly at the captain, but said not one +word. The captain looked away. + +"Porter," said he. + +"Sir." + +"Hold her horse." + +"But she'll rush through the gates. Shall I fasten them?" + +"No; I'll hold the reins till you get them. And, porter, I leave this +horse with Miss Dalton, since she won't dismount. You see that he's +well taken care of." + +"Yes, Sir." + +The captain, while speaking, had reached out his arm to take Edith's +reins, but she turned her horse's head, and he missed them. The porter +saw this movement, and sprang forward. Edith pulled the reins. Her +horse reared. Wild with excitement, and seeing the gates open before +her, and the road beyond, Edith struck at the porter with her whip over +his face, and then drove her horse at the open gates. The horse sprang +through like the wind. The porter shrieked after her. She was on the +road. She was free! + +No--not free! + +Not free, for after her there came the thundering tramp of another +horse. It was Mowbray in pursuit. + +His horse was far better than hers. He gained on her step by step. +Nearer and nearer he came. He was behind her; he was abreast of her +before she had ridden a quartet of a mile. The tower of the village +church was already in sight, when suddenly a strong hand was laid on her +reins. + +In her frenzy Edith struck that hand again and again with the heavy butt +of her riding-whip, but it did not loosen its grasp. Her horse stopped. + +"Curse you!" roared Mowbray to Edith, while his face was livid with +passion and pain, "I'll kill you!" and seizing her whip hand, he +wrenched the whip out of it. + +Edith was silent. + +Mowbray said no more. He turned her horse and led it back. Edith +looked around wildly. Suddenly, as they came near the gates, the +intolerable thought of her renewed imprisonment maddened her, and the +liberty which she had so nearly gained roused her to one more effort; +and so, with a start, she disengaged herself and leaped to the ground. +Mowbray saw it, and, with a terrible oath, in an instant leaped down and +gave chase. The horses ran forward and entered the gates. + +Edith held up her long skirts and ran toward the village. But again +Mowbray was too much for her. He overtook her, and seizing her by the +wrist, dragged her back. + +Edith shrieked for help at the top of her voice. Mowbray looked +fiercely around, and seeing no one, he took his handkerchief and bound +it tightly around her month. Then, overcome by despair, Edith's +strength gave way. She sank down. She made no more resistance. She +fainted. + +Mowbray raised her in his arms, and carried her into the porter's lodge. +The gates were then locked. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +A STRANGE CONFESSION. + +Edith came to herself in the porter's lodge. Her re-awakened eyes, in +looking up confusedly, saw the hateful face of Mowbray bending over her. +At once she realized the horror of her position, and all the incidents +of her late adventure came vividly before her mind. Starting up as +quickly as her feeble limbs would allow, she indignantly motioned him +away. + +Mowbray, without a word, stepped back and looked down. + +Edith staggered to her feet. + +"Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, in a low voice, "your carriage has been +sent for. It is here, and will take you to the Hall." + +Edith made no reply, but looked absently toward the door. + +"Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, coming a little nearer, "I implore you to +hear me. I would kneel at your feet if you would let me. But you are +so imbittered against me now that it would be useless. Miss Dalton, it +was not hate that made me raise my hand against you. Miss Dalton, I +swear that you are more dear to me than life itself. A few moments ago +I was mad, and did not know what I was doing. I did not want you to go +away from this place, for I saw that you would be lost to me forever. I +saw that you hated me, and that if you went away just then I should lose +you. And I was almost out of my senses. I had no time to think of any +thing but the bitter loss that was before me, and as you fled I seized +you, not in anger, but in excitement and fear, just as I would have +seized you if you had been drowning." + +"Captain Mowbray," said Edith, sternly, "the violence you have offered +me is enough to satisfy even you, without such insult as this." + +"Will you not even listen to me?" + +"Listen!" exclaimed Edith, in an indescribable tone. + +"Then I must be heard. I love you. I--" + +"Love!" interrupted Edith, in a tone of unutterable contempt. + +"Yes, love," repeated Mowbray, vehemently, "from the first time that I +saw you, when you implored my help." + +"And why did you not give me your help?" asked Edith, looking at him in +cold and haughty indignation. + +"I will tell you," said Mowbray. "Before I saw you I knew how you were +situated. Wiggins would have kept me away, but dared not. I know that +about him which makes me his master. When I saw you, I loved you with +all my soul. When you appealed to me, I would have responded at once, +but could not. The fact is, Mrs. Mowbray was present. Mrs. Mowbray is +not what she appears to be. Before her I had to pretend an indifference +that I did not feel. In short, I had to make myself appear a base +coward. In fact, I had to be on my guard, so as not to excite her +suspicions of my feelings. Afterward, when I might have redeemed my +character in your eyes, I did not know how to begin. Then, too, I was +afraid to help you to escape, for I saw that you hated me, and my only +hope was to keep you here till you might know me better." + +"Captain Mowbray," said Edith, "if you are a captain, which I doubt, +such explanations as these are paltry. After what you have done, the +only thing left is silence." + +"Oh, Miss Dalton, will nothing lead you to listen to me? I would lay +down my life, to serve you." + +"You still wish to serve me; then?" asked Edith. + +"Most fervently," cried Mowbray. + +"Then open that gate," said Edith. + +Mowbray hesitated. + +"Open that gate," said Edith, "and prove your sincerity. Open it, and +efface these marks," she cried, as she indignantly held up her right +hand, and showed her wrist, all black from the fierce grasp in which +Mowbray had seized it. "Open it, and I promise you I will listen +patiently to all that you may have to say." + +"Miss Dalton," said Mowbray, "if I opened that gate I should never see +you again." + +"You will never see me again if you do +not." + +"At least I shall be near you." + +"Near me? Yes, and hated and despised. I will call on Wiggins himself to +help me. He was right; he said the time would come when I would be +willing to trust him." + +"Trust him? What, that man? You don't know what he is." + +"And what are you, Captain Mowbray?" + +"I? I am a gentleman." + +"Oh no," said Edith, quietly, "not that--any thing rather than that." + +At this Mowbray's face flushed crimson, but with a violent effort he +repressed his passion. + +"Miss Dalton," said he, "it is a thing that you might understand. The +fear of losing you made me desperate. I saw in your flight the loss of +all my hopes." + +"And where are those hopes now?" + +"Well, at any rate, I have not altogether lost you. Let me hope that I +may have an opportunity to explain hereafter, and to retrieve my +character. Miss Dalton, a woman will sometimes forgive offenses even +against herself, when she knows that they are prompted by love." + +"You seem to me," said Edith, "to seek the affections of women as you do +those of dogs--by beating them soundly." + +The sight of Mowbray's dog, who was in the room, reminded Edith of the +master's maxim which he had uttered before this memorable ride. + +"Miss Dalton, you do me such wrong that you crush me. Can you not have +some mercy?" + +"Open the gate," said Edith. "Do that one thing, and then you may make +all the explanations you wish. I will listen to anything and everything. +Open the gate, and I will promise to forgive, and even to forget, the +unparalleled outrage that I have suffered." + +"But you will leave me forever." + +"Open that gate, Captain Mowbray. Prove yourself to be what you say--do +something to atone for your base conduct--and then you will have claims +on my gratitude which I shall always acknowledge." + +Mowbray shook his head. + +"Can I let you go?" he said. "Do you ask it of me?" + +"No," said Edith, impatiently, "I don't ask it. I neither hope nor ask +for any thing from you. Wiggins himself is more promising. At any rate, +he has not as yet used absolute violence, and, what is better, he does +not intrude his society where it is not wanted." + +"Then I have no hope," said Mowbray, in what was intended to be a +plaintive tone. + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Edith, "but I know this--that the time +will surely come, after all, when I shall get my freedom, and then, +Captain Mowbray, you will rue the day when you dared to lay hands on me. +Yes, I could get my freedom now, I suppose, if I were to parley with +Wiggins, to bribe him heavily enough; and I assure you I am tempted now +to give up the half of my estate, so as to get free and have you +punished." + +Mowbray turned pale. + +"There were no witnesses," said he, hastily. + +"You forget that the porter saw it all. But this is useless," she added; +and passing by Mowbray, she went to the door. Outside was a carriage, +which the porter had brought down from the Hall, into which she got, and +then drove away, while Mowbray stood looking at her till she drove out +of sight. + +The effects of this adventure were felt for some time. Excitement, +fatigue, pain, and grief, all affected Edith, so that she could not +leave her room for weeks. Mrs. Dunbar was assiduous in her attentions, +and Edith supposed that both she and Wiggins knew all about it, as the +porter would undoubtedly have informed them; but her communications with +her were limited only to a few words, and she regarded her with nothing +but distrust. In Mrs. Dunbar's manner, also, she saw something which +indicated a fresh trouble, something which had been manifested by her +ever since Mowbray's first appearance, and which Edith now suspected to +be the result of Mowbray's violence. This led to vain speculations on +her part which he had uttered before this memorable as to the mysterious +connection that existed between her jailers. Mowbray professed to be +the enemy and the master of Wiggins. Her remembrance of Wiggins's look +of hate made her think that this was true. But Mrs. Dunbar she did not +believe to be an enemy of Mowbray's; and the porter, who was the +incorruptible servant of Wiggins, seemed equally devoted to Mowbray. + +She recalled also Mowbray's words to herself in explanation of his own +course. He had asserted that he had the power over Wiggins from some +knowledge which he possessed, and also that Mrs. Mowbray was not what +she appeared to be. He had spoken as though he was afraid of Mrs. +Mowbray's finding out what he called his love for Edith. Was she his +mother, then, at all? What did it all mean? For Edith, at any rate, it +was not possible to understand it, and the character, motives, and +mutual relationship of all those with whom she had come in contact +remained an impenetrable mystery. + +To the surprise of Edith, the Mowbrays called several times to make +inquiries about her, and after her recovery they still visited her. At +first she refused to see them, but one day Mrs. Mowbray came alone, and +Edith determined to see her, and get rid of her effectually. + +Mrs. Mowbray rose as she entered, and advancing to greet her, held out +her hand with a cordial smile. Edith did not take it, yet Mrs. Mowbray +took no offense, but, on the contrary, met her in the most effusive +manner. + +"Oh, my dear Miss Dalton," said she, "what an age it has been since we +met! It seems like years! And when I wanted to see you so +par--tic--u--lar-ly! And are you quite well? Have you quite recovered? +Are you sure? How glad I am!" + +"Mrs. Mowbray," said Edith, as soon as she could make herself heard, "I +have sent word to you several times that I do not wish to see you again. +You know the reason why as well as I do. I can only say that I am +surprised at this persistence, and shall in future be under the +necessity of shutting my doors against you." + +Thus Edith, in spite of her severe afflictions, could still speak of the +place as hers, and under her orders. + +"Oh, my dear Miss Dalton," burst forth Mrs. Mowbray, "that is the very +reason why I have so in--sist--ed on seeing you. To explain, you +know--for there is nothing like an explanation." + +"You may spare yourself the trouble," said Edith. "I do not want any +more explanations." + +"Oh, but you positively must, you know," said Mrs. Mowbray, in her most +airy manner. + +"Pardon me. I wish to hear nothing whatever about it." + +"It's that sad, sad boy," said Mrs. Mowbray, coolly ignoring Edith's +words, "and deeply has he repented. But do you know, dear, it was only +his fondness for you. Pos--i--tive--ly nothing else, dear, but his +fondness for you. Oh, how he has talked about it! He says he is willing +to give up his right eye, or hand--I really forget which--to recall the +past. My poor dear boy is very impetuous." + +"Mrs. Mowbray, I do not wish to be unkind or rude, but you really force +me to it." + +"He's impetuous," said Mrs. Mowbray, without noticing Edith, "but he's +warm-hearted. He's a most affectionate son, and he is so affectionate +toward you. It's all his fondness for you." + +"Mrs. Mowbray, this is intolerable." + +"Oh, Miss Dalton, you don't know--you really don't know. He has loved +you ever since he first saw you--and so true! Why, he dotes on you. He +was afraid that he would lose you. You know, that was the reason, why he +interfered. But he says now most distinctly that he thinks his +interference was quite un--war--rant--a--ble--quite, I assure you; my +dear Miss Dalton." + +Edith sat looking at this insolent woman with a clouded brow, not +knowing whether to order her out of the house or not. But Mrs. Mowbray +seemed beautifully unconscious of any offense. + +"The only thing that he has been talking about ever since it happened," +she continued, "is his sorrow. Oh, his sorrow! And it is deep, Miss +Dalton. I never saw such deep sorrow. He really swears about it in a +shocking manner; and that with him is a sign that his feelings are +concerned very strongly. He always swears whenever he is deeply moved." + +Edith at this started to her feet with a look in her eyes which showed +Mrs. Mowbray that she would not be trifled with any longer. + +"Mrs. Mowbray," said she, "I came down for the sole purpose of telling +you that in future I shall dispense with the pleasure of your calls." + +Mrs. Mowbray rose from her chair. + +"What!" she exclaimed, with a gesture of consternation; "and live in +complete seclusion? Not receive calls? No, no; you really must not think +of such a thing. We are your friends, you know, and you must not deny us +an occasional sight of you. My poor boy will positively die if he +doesn't see you. He's pining now. And it's all for you. All." + +"Mrs. Mowbray," said Edith, in a severe tone, "I do not know whether you +give offense intentionally or not. You seem unable to take a hint, +however strongly expressed, and you force me to speak plainly, although +I dislike to do so. You must not, and you shall not, come here any +more." + +"Oh, my dear Miss Dalton, you really are quite excited," said Mrs. +Mowbray, with a pleasant smile. + +"I mean what I say," said Edith, coldly. "You are not--to come here +again." + +Mrs. Mowbray laughed lightly. + +"Oh, you really can't keep us away. We positively must come. My son +insists. These lovers, you know, dear, are so pertinacious. Well," she +added, looking hastily at Edith, "I suppose I must say good--morning; +but, Miss Dalton, think of my boy. Good--morning, my dear Miss Dalton." + +And so Mrs. Mowbray retired. + +She called again four times, twice alone, and twice in company with the +captain, but Edith refused to see her. Yet, after all, in spite of her +scorn for these people, and her conviction that they were in league with +Wiggins--in spite of the captain's brutality--it was not without sorrow +that Edith dismissed Mrs. Mowbray; for she looked upon her as a kind of +tie that bound her to the outer world, and until the last she had hoped +that some means might arise through these, if not of escape, at least of +communication with friends. + +But she was cut off from these now more than ever; and what remained? + +What? A prison-house! + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +A NEW-COMER. + +It seemed now to Edith that her isolation was complete. She found +herself in a position which she had thought impossible in free +England--a prisoner in the hands of an adventurer, who usurped an +authority over her to which he had no right. His claim to exercise this +authority in his office of guardian she did not admit for a moment. +She, the mistress of Dalton Hall, was nothing more than a captive on her +own estates. + +She did not know how this could end or when it could end. Her hopes had +one by one given way. The greatest blow of all was that which had been +administered through the so-called letter of Miss Plympton. That letter +she believed to be a forgery, yet the undeniable fact remained that Miss +Plympton had done nothing. That Miss Plympton should write that letter, +however, and that she should leave her helpless at the mercy of Wiggins, +seemed equally improbable, and Edith, in her vain effort to comprehend +it, could only conclude that some accident had happened to her dear +friend; that she was ill, or worse. And if this was so, it would be to +her the worst blow of all. + +Other hopes which she had formed had also been doomed to destruction. +She had expected something from the spontaneous sympathy of the outside +world; who, whatever their opinion about her father, would stir +themselves to prevent such an outrage upon justice as that which Wiggins +was perpetrating. But these hopes gradually died out. That world, she +thought, was perhaps ignorant not only of her situation, but even of her +very existence. The last hopes that she had formed had been in the +Mowbrays, and these had gone the way of all the others. + +Nothing appeared before her in the way of hope, and her despondency was +often hard to endure. Still her strong spirit and high-toned nature +rendered it impossible for her to be miserable always. Added to this was +her perfect health, which, with one interruption, had sustained her +amidst the distresses of her situation. By her very disposition she was +forced to hope for the best. It must not be supposed that she was at +all like "Mariana in the moated grange." She did not pine away. On the +contrary, she often felt a kind of triumph in the thought that she had +thus far shown the spirit of a Dalton. + +There was an old legend in the Dalton family upon which great stress had +been laid for many generations, and this one stood out prominently among +all the stories of ancestral exploits which she had heard in her +childhood. One of the first Daltons, whose grim figure looked down upon +her now in the armor of a Crusader, had taken part in the great +expedition under Richard Coeur de Lion. It happened that he had the ill +luck to fall into the hands of the infidel, but as there were a number +of other prisoners, there was some confusion, and early one morning he +managed to seize a horse and escape. Soon he was pursued. He dashed over +a wide plain toward some hills that arose in the distance, where he +managed to elude his pursuers for a time, until he found refuge upon a +cliff, where there was a small place which afforded room for one or two. +After some search his pursuers discovered him, and ordered him to come +down. He refused. They then began an attack, shooting arrows from a +distance, and trying to scale the cliff. But Dalton's defense was so +vigorous that by the end of that day's fight he had killed eight of his +assailants. Then the contest continued. For two days, under a burning +sun, without food or drink, the stern old Crusader defended himself. +When summoned to surrender he had only one word, and that was, "Never!" +It happened that a band of Crusaders who were scouring the country +caught sight of the Saracens, and made an attack upon them, putting them +to flight. They then sought for the object of this extraordinary siege, +and, climbing up, they saw a sight which thrilled them as they gazed. +For there lay stout old Michael Dalton, with many wounds, holding a +broken sword, and looking at them with delirious eyes. He recognized no +one, but tried to defend himself against his own friends. It was with +difficulty that they restrained him. They could not remove him, nor was +it necessary, for death was near; but till the last his hand clutched +the broken sword, and the only word he said was, "Never!" The Crusaders +waited till he was dead, and then took his remains to the camp. The +story of his defense, which was gathered from their prisoners, rang +through the whole camp, and always afterward the crest of the Daltons +was a bloody hand holding a broken sword, with the motto, "Never!" + +And so Edith took to her heart this story and this motto, and whenever +she looked at the grim old Crusader, she clinched her own little hand +and said, "Never!" + +She determined to use what liberty she had; and since Wiggins watched +all her movements, to show him how unconcerned she was, she began to go +about the grounds, to take long walks in all directions, and whenever +she returned to the house, to play for hours upon the piano. Her +determination to keep up her courage had the effect of keeping down her +despondency, and her vigorous exercise was an unmixed benefit, so that +there was a radiant beauty in her face, and a haughty dignity that made +her look like the absolute mistress of the place. + +What Wiggins felt or thought she did not know. He never came across her +path by any chance. Occasional glimpses of the ever-watchful Hugo showed +her that she was tracked with as jealous a vigilance as ever. She hoped, +however, that by her incessant activity something might result to her +advantage. + +One day while she was strolling down the grand avenue she saw a stranger +walking up, and saw, to her surprise, that he was a gentleman. The face +was altogether unknown to her, and, full of hope, she waited for him to +come up. + +"Have I the honor of addressing Miss Dalton?" said the stranger, as he +reached her. He spoke in a very pleasant but somewhat effeminate voice, +lifting his hat, and bowing with profound courtesy. + +"I am Miss Dalton," said Edith, wondering who the stranger might be. + +He was quite a small, slight man, evidently young; his cheeks were +beardless; he had a thick dark mustache; and his small hands and feet +gave to Edith the idea of a delicate, fastidious sort of a man, which +was heightened by his very neat and careful dress. On the whole, +however, he seemed to be a gentleman, and his deep courtesy was grateful +in the extreme to one who had known so much rudeness from others. + +His complexion was quite dark, his eyes were very brilliant and +expressive, and his appearance was decidedly effeminate. Edith felt a +half contempt for him, but in a moment she reflected how appearances may +mislead, for was not the magnificent Mowbray a villain and a coward? + +"Allow me, Miss Dalton," said he, "to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant +Dudleigh, of ---- ----." + +"Dudleigh!" cried Edith, in great excitement. "Are you any relation to +Sir Lionel?" + +"Well, not very close. I belong to the same family, it is true; but Sir +Lionel is more to me than a relation. He is my best friend and +benefactor." + +"And do you know any thing about him?" cried Edith, in irrepressible +eagerness. "Can you tell me any thing?" + +"Oh yes," said Dudleigh, with a smile. "I certainly ought to be able to +do that. I suppose I know as much about him as any one. But what is the +meaning of all this that I find here," he continued, suddenly changing +the conversation--"that ruffian of a porter--the gates boarded up and +barred so jealously? It seems to me as if your friends should bring +pistols whenever they come to make a call." + +Dudleigh had a gay, open, careless tone. His voice was round and full, +yet still it was effeminate. In spite of this, however, Edith was, on +the whole, pleased with him. The remote relationship which he professed +to bear to Sir Lionel, his claim that Sir Lionel was his friend, and the +name that he gave himself, all made him seem to Edith like a true +friend. Of Sir Lionel and his family she knew nothing whatever; she knew +not whether he had ever had any children or not; nor did she ever know +his disposition; but she had always accustomed herself to think of him +as her only relative, and her last resort, so that this man's +acquaintance with him made him doubly welcome. + +"What you mention," said she, in answer to his last remark, "is a thing +over which I have not the smallest control. There is a man here who has +contrived to place me in so painful a position that I am a prisoner in +my own grounds." + +"A prisoner!" said Dudleigh, in a tone of the deepest surprise. "I do +not understand you." + +"He keeps the gates locked," said Edith, "refuses to let me out, and +watches every thing that I do." + +"What do you mean? I really can not understand you. No one has any right +to do that. How does he dare to do it? He couldn't treat you worse if he +were your husband." + +"Well, he pretends that he is my guardian, and declares that he has the +same right over me as if he were my father." + +"But, Miss Dalton, what nonsense this is! You can not be in +earnest--and yet you must be." + +"In earnest!" repeated Edith, with vehemence. "Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh, +this is the sorrow of my life--so much so that I throw myself upon the +sympathy of a perfect stranger. I am desperate, and ready to do any +thing to escape--" + +"Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh, solemnly, "your wrongs must be great +indeed if this is so. Your guardian! But what then? Does that give him +the right to be your jailer?" + +"He takes the right." + +"Who is this man?" + +"His name is Wiggins." + +"Wiggins? Wiggins? Why, it must be the steward. Wiggins? Why, I saw him +yesterday. Wiggins? What! That scoundrel? that blackleg? that villain +who was horsewhipped at Epsom? Why, the man is almost an outlaw. It +seemed to me incredible when I heard he was steward here; but when you +tell me that he is your guardian it really is too much. It must be some +scoundrelly trick of his--some forgery of documents." + +"So I believe," said Edith, "and so I told him to his own face. But how +did you get in here? Wiggins never allows any one to come here but his +own friends." + +"Well," said Dudleigh, "I did have a little difficulty, but not much--it +was rather of a preliminary character. The fact is, I came here more +than a week ago on a kind of tour. I heard of Dalton Hall, and +understood enough of Sir Lionel's affairs to know that you were his +niece; and as there had been an old difficulty, I thought I couldn't do +better than call and see what sort of a person you were, so as to judge +whether a reconciliation might not be brought about. I came here three +days ago, and that beggar of a porter wouldn't let me in. The next day I +came back, and found Wiggins, and had some talk with him. He said +something or other about your grief and seclusion and so forth; but I +knew the scoundrel was lying, so I just said to him, 'See here now, +Wiggins, I know you of old, and there is one little affair of yours that +I know all about--you understand what I mean. You think you are all safe +here; but there are some people who could put you to no end of trouble +if they chose. I'm going in through those gates, and you must open +them.' That's what I told him, and when I came to-day the gates were +opened for me. But do you really mean to say that this villain prevents +your going out?" + +"Yes," said Edith, mournfully. + +"Surely you have not tried. You should assert your rights. But I suppose +your timidity would naturally prevent you." + +"It is not timidity that prevents me. I have been desperate enough to do +any thing. I have tried. Indeed, I don't know what more I could +possibly do than what I have done." She paused. She was not going to +tell every thing to a stranger. + +"Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh, fervently, "I can not express my joy at +the happy accident that has brought me here. For it was only by chance +that I came to Dalton, though after I came I naturally thought of you, +as I said, and came here." + +"I fear," said Edith, "that it may seem strange to you for me to take +you into my confidence, after we have only interchanged a few words. But +I must do so. I have no alternative. I am desperate. I am the Dalton of +Dalton Hall, and I find myself in the power of a base adventurer. He +imprisons me. He sets spies to watch over me. He directs that ruffian at +the gates to turn away my friends, and tell them some story about my +grief and seclusion. I have not seen any visitors since I came." + +"Is it possible!" + +"Well, there was one family--the Mowbrays, of whom I need say nothing." + +"The Mowbrays?" said Dudleigh, with a strange glance. + +"Do you know any thing about them?" asked Edith. + +"Pardon me, Miss Dalton; I prefer to say nothing about them." + +"By all means, I prefer to say nothing about them myself." + +"But, Miss Dalton, I feel confounded and bewildered. I can not +understand you even yet. Do you really mean to say that you, the +mistress of these estates, the heiress, the lady of Dalton Hall--that +_you_ are restricted in this way and by _him_?" + +"It is all most painfully true," said Edith. "It almost breaks my heart +to think of such a humiliation, but it is true. I have been here for +months, literally a prisoner. I have absolutely no communication with my +friends, or with the outside world. This man Wiggins declares that he is +my guardian, and can do as he chooses. He says that a guardian has as +much authority over his ward as a father over his child." + +"Oh! I think I understand. He may be partly right, after all. You are +young yet, you know. You are not of age." + +"I am of age," said Edith, mournfully, "and that is what makes it so +intolerable. If I were under age I might bear it for a time. There +might then appear to be, at least, the show of right on his side. But as +it is, there is nothing but might. He has imprisoned me. He has put me +under surveillance. I am watched at this moment." + +"Who? where?" exclaimed Dudleigh, looking hastily around. + +"Oh, in the woods--a black named Hugo. He tracks me like a blood-hound, +and never loses sight of me when I am out. He may not hear what we are +saying, but he will tell his master that I have spoken with you." + +"Are there spies in the Hall?" + +"Oh yes; his housekeeper watches me always." + +"Is there no place where we can talk without being seen or heard? +Believe me, Miss Dalton, your situation fills me with grief and pity. +All this is so unexpected, so strange, so incredible!" + +"We may, perhaps, be more free from observation in the Hall--at least I +think so. The drawing-room is better than this. Will you allow me to do +the honors of Dalton Hall?" + +Dudleigh bowed, and the two walked toward the Hall, and entering, +proceeded to the drawing-room. + +"We are undoubtedly watched, even here," said Edith, with a melancholy +smile, "but the watcher can not observe us very well, and has to stand +too far off to hear us easily, so that this room is perhaps better than +out-of-doors; at any rate, it is more convenient." + +"Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh, "I am glad beyond all that words can say +that I managed to get through your gates. My vague threats terrified +Wiggins, though in reality I have no knowledge about him sufficiently +definite to give me any actual power over him. I have only heard general +scandal, in which he was mixed up. But he has given me credit for +knowing something important. At any rate, now that I am here, let me do +something for you at once. Command me, and I will obey." "I want but +one thing," said Edith, "and that is to get out." + +"Well?" + +"Will you lead the way and let me follow? That is all I ask of you." + +"Certainly, and if you could only go out over my dead body, that price +should be paid, and you should go." + +Dudleigh spoke quickly, but with no particular earnestness. Indeed, in +all his tones there was a lack of earnestness. The words were excellent, +but they lacked depth and warmth. Edith, however, was too much excited +by the prospect of help to notice this. + +"There is no need of that," said she; "there is no real danger." + +"I rather think from the look of that ruffian at the gate that there +will be some such price," said Dudleigh, carelessly. "If I had only +brought my pistols, all would be easy. Can it be managed? How shall we +do it? Do you think that you have nerve enough, Miss Dalton, to witness +a fight?" + +"Yes," said Edith, calmly. + +"If I had my pistols," said Dudleigh, thoughtfully, "I might--But as it +is, if they, see you accompanying me, they will assemble in force." + +"Yes," said Edith, sadly, for she began to see difficulties. + +"Now do you think that if you are with me the porter will open the +gates?" + +"He will not." + +"Well, we must get out in some other way. Can you climb the wall? I +might climb and help you over." + +"Yes, but they would follow and prevent us." + +Dudleigh looked at the floor. Then he put his small gloved hand on his +forehead, and appeared for a few moments to be lost in thought. + +"Miss Dalton," said he at last, "I am at your service. Can you tell me +what I can do?--for to save my life I can think of nothing just now. +Give me my orders." + +Edith looked perplexed. She knew that this man could not force his way +unarmed through the gates. She did not feel inclined just yet to tell +him to arm himself and shoot any one dead who opposed him. She could not +bear to think of that. But here was Dudleigh, ready. + +"Have you any fire-arms in the house?" he asked. + +"No," said Edith, "and, besides, I can not bear just yet to cause any +thing like bloodshed." + +"If not, then you can not get free at once. Can you wait one day, or two +days?" + +"One or two days!" said Edith. "Oh yes; one or two weeks, or even +months. Only let me hope, and I can wait." + +"You have this to comfort you, at any rate," said Dudleigh, "that +outside the gates you have a friend. And now I will not intrude any +longer. I must go. But if you will allow me I will come back to-morrow. +Meanwhile I will try to think over what is best to be done." + +"You will promise," said Edith, imploringly, "not to desert me?" + +"Desert you? Never! On the honor of a gentleman!" cried Dudleigh; and as +he bowed his head there came over his face a very singular smile, which +Edith, however, did not see. + +He then took his leave. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH + +Edith slept but little that night. The prospect of escape agitated her +whole being, and the new friend who had so unexpectedly appeared took up +all her thoughts. + +He was a little man most certainly, and Edith already caught herself +thinking of him as "_Little Dudleigh_." He had nothing whatever of +the hero about him. Mowbray, as far as appearances went, far surpassed +her new acquaintance in that respect. Still Edith felt bound to overlook +or to excuse his slight frame, and in the effort to do this she recalled +all the little men of history. She thought of a saying which she had +once heard, that "all great men are small men." This sentiment included +under the head of little men Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, +Napoleon, with others of the same class, for the list had evidently been +made up by one who was himself a little man, and was anxious to enter a +forcible protest against the scorn of his bigger brethren. On the +present occasion the list of little heroes was so formidable that Edith +was prepared to find in "Little Dudleigh" all she wished. Still, in +spite of his generous offers, and his chivalrous proposal to put down +his dead body for her to march over, she did not feel for him that +admiration which such heroism deserved; and she even reproached herself +for her lack of common gratitude, for in her high spirits at the +prospect of escape, she caught herself more than once smiling at the +recollection of "Little Dudleigh's" little ways, his primness, and +effeminacy. + +At about ten o'clock on the following day "Little Dudleigh" came back. + +"That beggar at the gate," said he, after the usual greetings, "looks +very hard at me, but he doesn't pretend to hinder me from coming or +going just yet, though what he may do in time remains to be seen." + +"Oh," said Edith, "you must manage to get me out before Wiggins has a +chance to prevent you from coming in." + +[Illustration: "I MUST USE THESE, THEN."] + +"I hope so," said Dudleigh. "Of course, Miss Dalton, as you may suppose, +I have been thinking of you ever since I left you, and planning a +thousand schemes. But I have made up my mind to this, and you must make +up yours to the same. I am sorry, but it can not be avoided. I mean +_bloodshed_." + +"Bloodshed!" said Edith, sadly. + +"Of course it is terrible to a lady to be the cause of bloodshed," said +Dudleigh, quietly, "and if there were any other way I would find it out, +or you would know about it. But from what I have seen and heard, and +from what I know of Wiggins, I see that there is nothing left but to +force our way out, for the place is thoroughly guarded day and night." + +"So it is," said Edith, mournfully. + +"If I take you out, I must--Are we overheard?" he asked, looking +cautiously around. + +"I think not; at least not if you speak low." + +"I must use these, then," said he, drawing a brace of pistols in a +careless way from his coat pocket, and showing them to Edith. + +Edith recoiled involuntarily. Bloodshed, and perhaps death, the scandal +that would arise, arrest perhaps, or examination before magistrates--all +these thoughts came before her. She was brave, but things like these +could not be lightly faced. She was brave, but she could not decide just +yet that any man's life should be taken for the sake of her liberty. + +"I can not bear that," said she. + +"You will get used to them," said Dudleigh, cheerfully. "They are easy +to handle." + +"Put them back." + +"But what else is there to do?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Edith, in a dejected tone. + +"Well," said Dudleigh, after a pause, "I thought of this. It is natural. +I anticipated some such objection as this on your part. I know very +well what it is that you fear, and I don't know but that you are right. +Still, I have other plans, which may not appear so objectionable. But in +the first place, let me know finally, do you positively and absolutely +reject this?" and he tapped the pistols significantly. + +"I can not yet consent to risk any life," said Edith. + +"Very well; this may remain over until every thing else fails." + +"But couldn't you use these pistols to terrify them? The sight might +make them open the gates." + +"But it might not, and what then? Are you prepared to answer that?" And +"Little Dudleigh," who had been speaking about these things as lightly +and as carelessly as a lady would speak about a dress or the trimmings +of a bonnet, paused, and looked at her inquiringly. "The fact is," he +continued, as Edith did not answer, "you must be willing to run the risk +of _killing a man_. Your liberty is worth this price. If you say +to me, 'Open those gates,' that is what you must encounter. Will you +face it? Say the word, and now, _now_, at this very moment, I will +lead you there." + +The offer of immediate escape was thus presented, and for a moment Edith +hesitated, but the cost was too great. + +"Oh," she cried, "this is terrible! But I will not consent. No, I will +suffer longer rather than pay so frightful a price as human life." + +"Well," said Dudleigh, "after all, since you have decided this way, I +think you are about right. After all, there is really no necessity for +so desperate a course. But I have a high idea of what a lady has a right +to demand of a gentleman, and I am ready to do what you say." + +"But you have other plans, have you not?" + +"Yes, but slow ones--safe but slow. The question is, can you wait? Can +you endure your present life? and how long?" + +"Rather than cause the loss of life," said Edith, "I would endure this +very much longer." + +"Oh, you will not have to endure it so very long. If you are not too +impatient, the time may pass quickly too. But before I make any further +proposals, will you allow me to ask you one question? It is this: +Suppose you were to escape to-day, where would you go?" + +"I have thought about that," said Edith. "My dearest friend is Miss +Plympton. She is the head of the school where I have spent the greater +part of my life. She is the one to whom I should naturally go, but she +keeps a boarding-school, and I do not wish to go there and meet my old +school-mates and see so many. I wish to be secluded. I have sometimes +thought of going to that neighborhood, and finding a home where I could +occasionally see Miss Plympton, and at other times I have thought of +going to my uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh." + +At this last remark Dudleigh opened his eyes. + +"Who?" he asked. "I don't understand." + +"He is my uncle, you know," said Edith--"that is, by marriage--and +therefore he is naturally the one to whom I should look for defense +against Wiggins. In that case Sir Lionel will be far better than poor +dear Auntie Plympton. I'm afraid that Wiggins has already frightened her +away from me." + +"But how would you get to Sir Lionel?" asked Dudleigh, with a puzzled +expression. + +"Well, that is what I want to find out. I have no idea where he lives. +But you can tell me all about him. I should have asked before, but other +things interfered. I will go to him. I feel confident that he will not +cast me off." + +"Cast you off! I should think not," said Dudleigh; "but the difficulty +is how to find him. You can get to Dudleigh Manor easily enough--every +body knows where that is. But what then? Nobody is there." + +"What! Is not Sir Lionel there?" + +"Sir Lionel there! I only wish he was. Why, is it possible that you do +not know that Sir Lionel is positively not in England? He travels all +the time, and only comes home occasionally. Perhaps you know the +cause--his family troubles ten years ago. He had a row with his wife +then, and it has blighted his life. Sir Lionel? Why, at this moment I +dare say he is somewhere among the Ural Mountains, or Patagonia, or some +other equally remote country. But who told you that he was in England?" + +Edith was silent. She had taken it for granted that Sir Lionel lived in +his own home. + +"Can I not write to him?" she asked. + +"Of course, if you can only secure his address; and that I will do my +utmost to find out for you. But to do this will be a work of time." + +"Yes," sighed Edith. + +"And what can you do in the mean time? Where can you go?" + +"There is Miss Plympton." + +"Yes, your teacher. And you don't wish to go to the school, but to some +private place near it. Now what sort of a woman is Miss Plympton? Bold +and courageous?" + +"I'm afraid not," said Edith, after a thoughtful pause. "I know that she +loves me like a mother, and when I first came here I should have relied +on her to the utmost. But now I don't know. At any rate, I think she +can be easily terrified." And Edith went on to tell about Miss +Plympton's letter to her, and subsequent silence. + +"I think with you," said Dudleigh, after Edith had ended, "that the +letter is a forgery. But what is difficult to understand is this +apparent desertion of you. This may be accounted for, however, in one of +two ways. First, Wiggins may actually have seen her, and frightened her +in some way. You say she is timid. The other explanation of her silence +is that she may be ill." + +"Ill!" exclaimed Edith, mournfully. + +"It may be so." + +"May she not all this time have been trying to rescue me, and been +baffled?" + +Dudleigh smiled. + +"Oh no. If she had tried at all you would have heard something about it +before this; something would certainly have been done. The claim of +Wiggins would have been contested in a court of law. Oh no; she has +evidently done nothing. In fact, I think that, sad as it may seem to +you, there can be no doubt about her illness. You say she left you here. +No doubt she felt terrible anxiety. The next day she could not see you. +Her love for you, and her anxiety, would, perhaps, be too much for her. +She may have been taken home ill." + +Edith sighed. The picture of Miss Plympton's grief was too much for her. + +"At any rate," said she, "if I can't find any friends--if Sir Lionel is +gone, and poor dear auntie is ill, I can be free. I can help nurse her. +Any life is better than this; and I can put my case in the hands of the +lawyers." + +"You are, of course, well supplied with money," said Dudleigh, +carelessly. + +"Money?" + +"Yes; so as to travel, you know, and live, and pay your lawyers." + +"I have no money," said Edith, helplessly; "that is, not more than a few +sovereigns. I did not think of that." + +"No money?" + +"No--only a little." + +"No money! Why, how is that? No money? Why, what can you do?" + +"Wiggins manages every thing, and has all the money." + +"You have never obtained any from him as yet, then?" + +"I have never needed any." + +"He spends your own money in paying these spies and jailers. But if you +have no money, how can you manage to live, even if you do escape?" + +Edith looked down in despair. The idea of money had never entered her +mind. Yet now, since it was mentioned, she felt its importance. Yes, +money was the chief thing; without that flight was useless, and liberty +impossible. But how could she get it? Wiggins would not give her any. +And where could she go? Could she go to Miss Plympton's, to be a +dependent upon her at the school? That thought was intolerable. Much as +she loved Miss Plympton, she could not descend to that. + +"You are certainly not very practical," said Dudleigh, "or your first +thought would have been about this. But you have none, you say, and so +it can not be remedied. Is there any thing else? You see you can escape; +but what then?" + +Dudleigh was silent, and Edith looked at him in deep suspense. + +"You say you never see Wiggins now?" + +"No." + +"You are not subject to insults?" + +"No--to none." + +"Have you the Hall to yourself?" + +"Oh yes; I am not interfered with. As long as I stay inside the Hall I +am left to myself--only I am watched, of course, as I told you." + +"Of course; but, at any rate, it seems a sort of honorable captivity. +You are not like a captive in a dungeon, for instance." + +"Oh no." + +"Would you rather be here, as you are, or at Miss Plympton's school as a +sort of dependent?" + +"Here, of course. I could not go back there, and face them all." + +"Would you rather live here or in some mean lodging, without money to +pay your board?" + +"Here," said Edith, after a pause. + +"There are worse situations in the world than this, then?" + +"It seems so," said Edith, slowly. + +"By leaving this just now you would be doing worse, then?" + +"It looks like it." + +"Well, then, may it not be better for you to remain here, for the +present at least, until you hear something from Sir Lionel Dudleigh?" + +"But how long will that be?" + +"I can not tell." + +"Is there nothing else?" + +"Certainly the first thing for you to do is to see a lawyer." + +"But how can I?" + +"I can find one." + +"But will you?" + +"Of course. I shall be most happy. Only answer me this: If a lawyer +takes up your case, shall you be willing to live here, or shall you +insist on leaving?" + +"I should prefer leaving," said Edith; "but at the same time, if a +lawyer has my case, and I can feel that something is being done, I can +be content here, at least for a time, until I hear from Sir Lionel--or +Miss Plympton." + +"Well, then, for the present at least, you give up the idea of fighting +your way out?" + +"Yes--I suppose so." + +"Then all that I have to do is to get a lawyer for you, and write to Sir +Lionel, wherever he is." + +"You will not let Wiggins keep my lawyer away?" said Edith, in an +imploring voice. + +"Oh, I fancy he has such a wholesome dread of lawyers that he won't try +to keep one out. At any rate, these lawyers have all kinds of ways, you +know, of getting places." + +"And of getting people out of places, too, I hope." + +"I should be sorry not to hope that." + +So Edith found herself compelled to face the difficulties of her present +situation a little longer, and endure as best she could the restraint of +her imprisonment. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +A WARNING. + +The barriers which Wiggins had raised between Edith and the outer world +had thus been surmounted by two persons--first, Mowbray, and second, +Little Dudleigh. Mowbray had come and gone without any sign of +objection or remonstrance from her jailer; and now Edith could not help +wondering at the facility with which the new-comer, Dudleigh, passed and +repassed those jealously guarded limits. Dudleigh's power arose from +some knowledge of the past history of Wiggins, but the knowledge did not +seem very definite, and she could not help wondering how long his visits +would be tolerated. + +She was not left to wonder long. On the evening of the day on which +Dudleigh had made his last visit Wiggins came to see her. She had not +seen him since that time when he had brought her the so-called letter of +Miss Plympton, except once when she had caught a glimpse of him when +riding with Mowbray. He now entered in his usual manner, with his solemn +face, his formal bow, his abstracted gaze. He sat down, and for a few +moments said nothing. + +"I do not often inflict my presence on you, Miss Dalton," said he at +length. "I have too much regard for you to intrude upon you. Some day +you will understand me, and will appreciate my present course. It is +only for your own sake that I now come, because I see that you are +thoughtless and reckless, and are living under a delusion. You are +almost beyond my control, yet I still hope that I may have some faint +influence over you--or at least I can try." + +His tone was gentle and affectionate. It was, in fact, paternal in its +character; but this tone, instead of softening Edith, only seemed to her +a fresh instance of his arrogant assumption, and, as such, excited her +contempt and indignation. These feelings, however, she repressed for the +moment, and looked at him with a cold and austere face. + +"You have been receiving visitors," he continued, "visitors whom I could +have kept away if I had--chosen. But to do so would have interfered with +my plans, and so I have tolerated them. You, however, have been all +along under such a--mistake--about me--and my intentions--that you have +thrown yourself upon these strangers, and have, I grieve to say, +endangered your own future, and mine, more than you can possibly +imagine. Your first visitor was objectionable, but I tolerated him for +reasons that I need not explain; but this last visitor is one who ought +not to be tolerated either by you or by me. And now I come to you to +give you--a--an affectionate warning--to ask of you not to be so +reckless, so careless of your best interests, so blind to the great +issues that are at stake in--a--my--present plans." + +"You appear to me," said Edith, coldly "to have some reference to +Lieutenant Dudleigh." + +"That is what he calls himself." + +"Calls himself?" + +"Yes. This name Dudleigh is an assumed one. He took that so as to gain +your confidence." + +"You appear to know him very well." + +"I do not." + +"How do you know, then, that this name is assumed?" + +"Because I happen to know the Dudleigh family, and this man does not +belong to it. I never saw him before." + +"There are more Dudleighs in the world than the family you speak of." + +"He is an adventurer," said Wiggins. "You know nothing about him. I +believe his name is false, as he himself is false. Does he not pretend +to be the son of Sir Lionel?" + +"No; he says that he is only a distant relation to Sir Lionel." + +"He is no relation whatever," said Wiggins. "You are allowing yourself +to be led astray by a man of whom you know nothing--a designing villain, +an adventurer." + +"It is strange that you should apply such terms to a man of whom you +yourself acknowledge that you know nothing. But, at any rate," continued +Edith, with strong emphasis, "_he knows you_. It is this knowledge +that gives him the power of passing through those gates which you shut +against me; what that knowledge may be you yourself know best." + +"He does not know me," said Wiggins. + +"He must," said Edith, "for the simple reason that you dare not keep him +out." + +Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time. + +"It is a terrible ordeal for me," said he at last, in a slow, measured +tone, "to talk with you. You seem to me like one who is mad; but it is +the madness of utter ignorance. You do not know. Oh, how you tempt me +to tell you all! But I can not, I can not. My lips are sealed as yet. +But I will say no more on that. I will ask you one question only. It is +this: Can you not see with your own eyes that this man is nothing more +than a mere adventurer?" + +"An adventurer!" repeated Edith, indignantly. "It ill becomes one like +you to use such a word as that. For what are you yourself? Lieutenant +Dudleigh is a gentleman; and though I have only known him for a short +time, I am happy in calling him my friend. I will tolerate no abuse of +him. Why do you not say this to his face? If he is what you say, why do +you allow him to come here? An adventurer? Why, that is the very name I +apply in all my thoughts to you!" + +A look of anguish came over the face of Wiggins. He trembled violently, +but with an effort mastered his feelings. Evidently what he said was +true, and to him it was a severe ordeal to carry on a conversation with +Edith. Her scorn, her anger, and her hate all flamed forth so vehemently +that it was hard to endure. + +"If you could only refrain from these bitter insults!" said he, in a +mournful voice. "If you could only put a check upon yourself when you +talk with me! I wish to speak calmly, but you hurl taunts at me that +inflict exquisite pain. The remembrance of them will one day give no +less anguish to you, believe me--oh, believe me! Spare me these taunts +and insults, I entreat you, for the sake of both of us!" + +"Both of us?" repeated Edith, without being in the slightest degree +affected by the words of Wiggins. "Both of us? You seem to me to be +including yourself and me in the same class, as though there could be +any thing in common between me and one like you. That is impossible. Our +interests are forever separate." + +"You do not know," said Wiggins, with a great effort to be calm. "This +man--this Lieutenant Dudleigh, as he calls himself--is an enemy to both +of us." + +"You use that expression with strange pertinacity. I must tell you again +that there can not possibly be any thing in common between you and me. +For my part, I consider you as my natural enemy. You are my jailer. I am +your prisoner. That is all. I am at war with you. I would give half of +my possessions to escape from your hands, and the other half to punish +you for what you have done. I live in the hope of some day meting out to +you the punishment which your crimes deserve. If any one is an enemy of +yours, that one thing is a sufficient recommendation to make him a +friend of mine." + +At these words Wiggins seemed to endure a keener anguish, and his face +bore upon it the same pallid horror which she had seen there before upon +a similar provocation. He stared at her for a few moments, and then +bowing down, he leaned his head upon his hand and looked at the floor in +silence. At last, he raised his head and looked at her with a calm face. + +"Is there no possible way," said he, "in which I can speak to you +without receiving wounds that sting like the fangs of a serpent? Be +patient with me. If I offend, try to be a little forbearing just now, +for the sake of yourself, if for nothing else. See, I am humbling +myself. I ask your forbearance. I wish to speak for your own good. +For, as it is, you are doing you know not what. You are ruining +yourself; you are blighting and blasting your own future; you are +risking your reputation; you are exposing the family name to the sneers +of the world, once again. Think of your frantic adventure at the gates +with that--that Mowbray!" + +Now if Wiggins had wished to mollify Edith, or to persuade her to fall +in with his own wishes, he was certainly most unfortunate in his way of +going about it; and especially in such an allusion as this. For no +sooner did he mention the name of Mowbray than Edith was roused to a +fresh excitement. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Do _you_ throw that up to _me_--you of +all men? Who, I ask you, was the cause of all the shame and misery and +violence that I suffered there? Who was the one that made it necessary? +Who was the one that brought me to such a pitch of desperation that I +was ready to do any thing, however wild or frantic? Who? Why, you +yourself--you, who come to me now, and with a solemn voice ask me to +calm myself. Is it not possible for you to see what a horrible mockery +all this must be to me? But I will do what you ask. I will be calm in +spite of all. Come, now, I will meet you on your own ground. I will ask +you one thing. How much money will you take to let me go free?" + +At this request Wiggins stared at her with the expression of one who, +while already reeling under a stroke, has received some new blow. He +started from his chair to his feet, and stood for a moment regarding her +with an indescribable look. But again he mastered his emotions, and +finally resumed his seat. + +"I don't know what to say to you!" he exclaimed. "I came to advise you, +and to warn you. I have done every thing. There is one thing which would +put an end to all this misery which you inflict on me, but that one +thing I wish on no account to say just now. I can not just yet give up +the hope that has cheered me for so long a time; still, I must warn you. +Rash girl, you have already suffered from this Mowbray, as he calls +himself. Do you not see that this new visitor, this so-called Dudleigh, +is nothing else than the ally, the associate, the partner, the emissary +of Mowbray?" + +"The associate of Mowbray," said Edith, quietly, "is yourself. You sent +him to me, I have no doubt. You have your own schemes. What they are I +do not know, nor do I care to know. As for Lieutenant Dudleigh, he is, I +feel sure, an honorable gentleman, and his associates are far, very far +different from such as you and Mowbray. He is the friend of one whom I +also regard now as my only friend--one whom I never cease to pray to +reach--one whom I hope yet to find, and by his help escape from your +infamous control, and punish you for all your villainy toward me and +mine." + +"What is this? What do you mean? A friend?" + +Wiggins uttered these words in a bewildered way. + +"The friend whom I hope to reach," said Edith, "the one to whom I look +for vengeance on you, is Sir Lionel Dudleigh." "Sir Lionel Dudleigh!" +repeated Wiggins, with a groan. "You!" + +"Yes, Sir Lionel Dudleigh!" said Edith. "I see that you are agitated at +the mention of that name--the name of an honorable man--a man of +stainless name, who has nothing in common with such as you. Let me tell +you that the time will yet come when you shall have to meet Sir Lionel +Dudleigh face to face, and then you will have reason to tremble!" + +At this Wiggins rose. He did not look at Edith. He did not say a word. +He seemed overwhelmed. His head was bowed down on his breast; his eyes +were fixed on the floor; and he walked with a slow and weary pace out of +the room. + +"It was the threat of Sir Lionel Dudleigh," thought Edith, "that +terrified him. He knows that the time is coming when he will have to +give an account; and he fears Sir Lionel Dudleigh more than any other +living man." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: DEAR LITTLE DUDLEIGH] + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +LITTLE DUDLEIGH. + +Little Dudleigh now came to the Hall nearly every day, and devoted +himself to Edith. In spite of his devotion, however, her admiration for +him never rose to a very high pitch. There was something about the +little man which was too prim and precise--an indescribable something +which made her feel a half contempt, against which it was difficult to +struggle even by keeping her mind fixed on his valuable services. His +little particular ways were more appropriate to a woman than to a man, +and excited her impatience. Still she felt that he must have plenty of +courage, for had he not offered to risk his life, and had he not come +armed and prepared to force a way for her out of the park? + +Edith, like all generous natures, was frank and confiding. She was +warm-hearted, impulsive, and quick to show gratitude. After the society +of the Mowbrays, she found that of Little Dudleigh an inexpressible +relief. What struck her most about him was his unvarying calmness. He +must have some personal regard for her, she was sure, for on what other +grounds would he come to see her so incessantly, and spend so much time +with her? Yet he never showed much of this in his manner. He frequently +paid compliments, and alluded to his willingness to do any thing to +serve her; but he seldom indulged in sentiment. He never showed any +approach to the tenderness of love. On the whole Edith was immensely +relieved at this, for the little man was one whom she could cordially +appreciate as a disinterested friend, but whose approach toward +gallantry or sentiment would have been repugnant in the extreme. + +Little Dudleigh certainly exerted all his powers to make himself +agreeable, and not without success. For Edith, who was naturally of a +radiant temper, was now in high spirits at her brightening prospects, +and it was easy to amuse her. Dudleigh had innumerable stories to tell +of London life, and these stories referred almost exclusively to the +theatre. He appeared to be intimately acquainted with all the +"professional" world, and more particularly with the actresses. His +stories about them were generally of a light, gossiping character, +referring to their petty failings, jealousies, and weaknesses, and +seemed like the malicious tales which actresses tell about one another. +Still none of them were at all unfit for a lady's ear, and in all of +them there was some absurdity which compensated for their maliciousness. +Little Dudleigh seemed to understand most thoroughly the female nature, +its excellences and its defects, its strength and its weaknesses. In his +anecdotes about men he was never so successful. His familiarity with +women's ways was quite remarkable, and extended even to the smallest +details of dress and ornament. His whole manner put Edith singularly at +her ease, and she sometimes caught herself speaking to him almost as she +used to speak to her fellow school-girls. + +Little Dudleigh's society thus became quite agreeable, and Edith looked +forward each day to his appearance with something like impatience. There +was, after all, every reason why she should enjoy it. She had no other +associate, and this one upon whom she was thrown exerted all his powers +for the sole purpose of pleasing her. + +There was very little of any thing like enthusiasm about Little +Dudleigh, and in this respect he differed very widely from Edith. She +would go into raptures over every beautiful scene. A brilliant sky, a +rich landscape, a quiet woodland view, all served to excite her admiring +comments. Little Dudleigh, however, showed no such feeling. He confessed +himself indifferent to natural scenery, and partial only to city life; +and while he acknowledged the beauty of the place, he yet declared that +he found more to admire in a drawing-room or a theatre. + +Meanwhile the little man had not been idle. On his first visit after the +conversation last detailed he informed Edith that he had written to +London, making inquiries about Sir Lionel. A few days afterward he +showed Edith a letter which he said he had received from Sir Lionel's +London solicitors. The writer stated that he did not know where Sir +Lionel was, but that he would write to a firm in Marseilles, who were +his bankers and agents. The opinion of the writer was that the baronet +was somewhere about the Mediterranean. This intelligence was rather +distressing to Edith, but she had been prepared for something of the +kind; and as Little Dudleigh encouraged her, and pointed out many +reasons for hope, she took heart and hoped for the best. + +According to Little Dudleigh, Sir Lionel was always traveling. During +ten or twelve years he said that he had not been in England more than +three or four times. It was on one of these occasions that he had met +with him, and had received from him certain acts of kindness which made +him grateful to his benefactor. Sir Lionel, he said, had been a great +traveler, having been through every part of Europe and America, and most +of Asia. He was constantly roving about to different places, sometimes +by land, at other times in his own yacht. This, he thought, must be the +reason why Edith had never heard from him. Personally he was most +kind-hearted and generous, and if he only knew the situation in which +she was, he would fly to her assistance. + +Little Dudleigh also alluded in a general way to Sir Lionel's family +troubles. The quarrel with his wife, he said, had broken up the +baronet's life, and made him a wanderer. He knew nothing about the +cause, but had heard that Lady Dudleigh had been very much to blame, and +had deserted her husband under very painful circumstances. It was this +that had made the unhappy husband a wanderer. Lady Dudleigh, he thought, +had died years ago. + +Such was the state of things, according to Little Dudleigh, and Edith +had only to make up her mind to wait until something more definite was +known. In the mean time, however, Little Dudleigh had not been unmindful +of Miss Plympton, but wrote a letter to her, which he showed to Edith. +Edith also wrote one, which was inclosed in his. Several weeks passed +away, but no reply was received, and this silence distressed Edith +greatly. At length, when she had lost all hope of hearing from her dear +friend, a reply came. It was written from Italy, and Edith read it with +feelings of mingled amazement and anxiety. + +It was written in a strange hand, and informed Lieutenant Dudleigh that +his letter and inclosure had been forwarded from Plympton Terrace, where +it had been first sent, to Miss Plympton's present abode at Nice; and +went on to say that Miss Plympton had come back from Dalton care-worn by +anxiety and fatigue, that a severe illness had been the result, and that +she had been sent to the south of France. The writer stated that she was +still too feeble to undergo any excitement, and therefore that +Lieutenant Dudleigh's letter and inclosure had not been shown her. As +soon as Miss Plympton's health would admit of it the letters would be +given to her. It was uncertain how long she would remain at Nice. They +were thinking now of taking her to Germany or Switzerland. The school +had been broken up for the present. This letter was signed by "Adèle +Swinburne," who said that she was Miss Plympton's "attendant." It was a +name that Edith had never heard of before. + +It never occurred to Edith to question for one moment the authenticity +of this letter. She accepted it all as truth, and was filled with +grief. Miss Plympton, then, had not been forgetful. She had done what +she could, and this illness was the result. It seemed now to Edith that +the climax of her sorrows had been reached in the sufferings and exile +of her only friend. + +"And now, Miss Dalton," said Little Dudleigh, after a long silence, in +which he had watched her with respectful sympathy, "what do you wish to +do?" + +"I'm afraid that I shall have to rely upon you altogether," said Edith. + +"You want something to be done as soon as possible, of course." + +"Of course--most earnestly." + +"You see, then, that both Sir Lionel and Miss Plympton are quite out of +our reach. If you wish for deliverance you must try something else." + +"What else can I try?" + +"Well, the law." + +"The law? Of course, that is just what I wish." + +"It is tedious, remember." + +"Oh, if I can only make a beginning, I can wait. It isn't my life here, +or even my imprisonment, that is intolerable so much as my helplessness, +and the thought that I am doing nothing, and the impunity with which +this wretched Wiggins carries out his purposes. If I could only know +that the affair was in the hands of a lawyer, I should feel content." + +"Yes, women have a great faith in lawyers." + +"At any rate, there most be something in the law, although it is often +baffled." + +"There ought to be, certainly; but of course you must be prepared to +have your suit resisted. Wiggins will also have lawyers, and the ablest +ones that he can find." + +"Then I must get better ones." + +"Of course." + +"And immediately, too, without waiting any longer," said Edith, +impatiently. + +"Well, I will get you one as soon as possible, if you say so." + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh," said Edith, with deep emotion, "you have claims +on my gratitude which I can never repay." + +"It is the happiest moment of my life," said Little Dudleigh, with +greater animation than usual, "since I have heard you say that. But +don't speak of gratitude. Say, at the most, friendship. If you will +only accept my humble services, they are all yours, and my life too, if +necessary." + +"Oh," said Edith, with a smile, "there will be no danger to your life +now, you know, if I put my case in the hands of lawyers." + +"Well, now, talking of lawyers," said Little Dudleigh, "since you have +made up your mind to this, it will be necessary to be very cautious in +choosing one." + +"I must have the best counsel in England." + +"Certainly, for Wiggins will be on the alert. With him every thing is at +stake. If he loses, it will be absolute ruin. In the course of the +trial his whole past life must come up." + +"And it ought to come up," said Edith, indignantly. + +"We must, as you say, have the best counsel in England. An ordinary man +might ruin all. You must get the best lawyer in London. And now I would +not advise you to choose the most eminent one there, for fear lest the +multitude of his engagements might prevent him from giving to your case +the attention which it requires. You want some one who will give his +whole soul to the case--some shrewd, deep, wily, crafty man, who +understands thoroughly all the ins and outs of law, and can circumvent +Wiggins in every way." + +"But I don't like these wily lawyers," said Edith, doubtfully. "I prefer +honorable men." + +"Yes, certainly, as friends, no doubt you do; but you are not now +seeking for a friend. You are on the look-out for a servant, or, +rather, for one who can fight your battle best, and deal the best and +surest blows upon Wiggins." + +"Well, I'm sure I don't know," said Edith, doubtfully. + +"Now I'll tell you what I'll do, if you'll consent," said Little +Dudleigh. "I'll go to London and seek out the right man myself. There +is no use in writing letters. I must go and explain the thing +personally." + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh," said Edith, in deep emotion, "I do not know what +to say. You really overwhelm me with kindnesses. I can only say that +you have earned my life-long gratitude." + +Little Dudleigh shook his head deprecatingly. + +"Miss Dalton," said he, in a tone of respectful devotion, "the favor is +all yours, and the pleasure is all mine. Believe me, I feel happy beyond +expression at being able to do any thing for you." + +And after some further conversation, Little Dudleigh took his leave. + +"How noble and generous he is!" thought Edith, as she watched him walk +down the avenue. "Dear Little Dudleigh, what a pity it is that he is not +a few inches taller!" + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +THE MAN OF LAW. + +The departure of Dudleigh left Edith to the monotony of her solitary +life. If Dudleigh had desired to win her affections, he could certainly +have chosen no better way of doing so, for by this course he made +himself greatly missed, and caused Edith to count the days in her +impatience for his return. In her loneliness she could not help +recalling the hours she had passed with her agreeable visitor, and thus +was forced to give him a large portion of her thoughts. His connection +with Sir Lionel seemed of itself a recommendation of the strongest kind, +and all that he had done for her, and was still doing, filled her +generous soul with gratitude. + +Thinking thus about him, she recalled his whole manner and appearance. +The worst that could be said against him was that he was effeminate. But +at any rate that was better than being brutal. Otherwise he was frank +and engaging and clever and gentlemanly. He had evidently a high sense +of honor. He was devoted to her. From the first time when he had heard +her story down to the present moment he had not ceased to think for her +and to work for her. Even now he had gone to London to obtain for her +what she most wanted--the assistance of the law. + +All these things made him appear in a more favorable light than ever. +She recalled his heroism and devotion. She considered that he had done +as much as if he had laid down his life for her, since he had offered to +do so, and had only been prevented by her prohibition. Little Dudleigh, +then, she thought, with his slight frame and small hands, had more real +manhood than a hundred such big brutes as Mowbray. If he is not a true +man, who is? Could she ever hope again to find so devoted a friend? +Impossible. He had come to her in her very darkest hour; he eagerly +espoused her cause, and had devoted himself with all his soul to her +interests. What more could she wish than this? + +For several weeks Dudleigh remained away, and Edith grew excessively +impatient. She began to fear for his safety. In her anxiety she +sometimes imagined that Wiggins might have caused some harm to fall on +him in London. She recalled all the dangers of the London streets, of +which she had read in various works of fiction, and imagined Wiggins +hiring some cut-throat to follow him, assassinate him at the first +opportunity, and throw his body into the river. She imagined that some +ruffian, hired of course by Wiggins, might tempt him to take a friendly +glass, drug his liquor, and then dispose of his victim in the same +convenient river. Then her mood changed, and she laughed at the +absurdity of such fears, for she well knew that he must be perfectly +familiar with London life and the London streets, so that any thing of +this kind was nonsensical. Then she thought that perhaps no lawyer would +undertake her case without money being paid at once. In fact, all the +fears that could be suggested by an uneasy mind and a very vivid +imagination came crowding before here as the time passed by and Dudleigh +did not return. + +But at last all her fears came to an end. One morning, at the usual +hour, she saw his well-known figure approaching the house. In her eager +joy she hurried at once down stairs, and could scarcely prevent herself +from running down the avenue to meet him. It was with difficulty that +she controlled herself, and waited for him in the drawing-room. + +Little Dudleigh entered with his usual calmness and self-possession. +Edith greeted him with the warmest welcome. + +"But you come alone," she said, in a tone of disappointment. "You have +not been successful." + +"In one sense," said he, "I have been most successful, for I have found +the very man I wanted. I had to wait for him, though. He was in Lyons +when I reached London, and I went over for him and brought him here." + +"Lyons!" exclaimed Edith. "Why, that's in France. Did you really go over +to France?" + +"Why not?" said Dudleigh, calmly. "I set forth on a certain purpose, and +I am not in the habit of giving up what I undertake to do. Besides, you +forget for whom that business was undertaken and the impulse that drove +me forward." + +Edith looked at the floor and said nothing. She felt under such +obligations to him that she hardly knew what to say. + +"I should like to have brought the lawyer here at once," he continued, +"but did not. He is now in this neighborhood, however. The reason why +I did not bring him now was because I wished first to see Wiggins +myself. He must be prepared, or he may make trouble. I wish to frighten +him into allowing him to pass. I shall have to make up some plausible +story, however, to account for his visiting you. I have not yet decided +on what it shall be. I think, however, that the lawyer had better come +here alone. You will, of course, know that he is to be trusted. You may +say to him, in fact, whatever you like." + +"But wouldn't it be better for you to be present also?" said Edith. "I +may require your advice." + +"Thank you, Miss Dalton. I assure you I value most highly every +expression of your confidence. But I think it will be better for you to +see him alone. He will give you his card. His name is Barber. If I were +to come with him, Wiggins might suspect. At the same time, I don't know, +after all, but that I may change my mind and come with him. But in any +case you may talk to him freely. He has not been idle, for he has +already mastered your whole situation. You may trust him just as much as +you trust me. You may, in fact, regard him the same as me." + +"And he will be here to-morrow?" said Edith. + +"Yes." + +"I know you hate expressions of gratitude," said Edith, after a pause; +"but I can only say that my own gratitude is beyond expression. You have +given me hope--" + +"Say nothing about it," said Dudleigh, interrupting her. "That will be +the best thanks, though really I have done nothing to merit thanks. Duty +and honor both impelled me to serve you, without +mentioning--any--a--deeper and stronger feeling." + +Edith again looked at the floor. She suspected the existence of this +stronger feeling and did not altogether like to think of it. Her own +feelings toward him were singularly cool, and she did not wish him to be +otherwise. His general calmness of demeanor was very pleasant to her, +and his occasional allusions to any deeper sentiment than common, few +though they were, troubled her greatly. What if he should seek as his +reward that which he surely had a right to hope for--her hand? Could she +give it? On the other hand, could she have the heart to refuse it? The +alternative was not pleasant. + +On the following day, while Edith was waiting in great impatience, a +stranger came to the Hall to call upon her. + +The stranger was a small-sized man, with round shoulders, gray hair, +bushy eyebrows, and sallow skin. He wore spectacles, his clothes were of +good material, but rather loose fit, betokening one who was indifferent +to dress. His boots were loose, his gloves also, and an umbrella which +he carried, being without a band, had a baggy appearance, which was +quite in keeping with the general style of this man's costume. He looked +to Edith so much like a lawyer that she could not help wondering at the +completeness with which one's profession stamps itself upon the +exterior. + +"I am sent," said the stranger, after a brief, stiff salutation, "by +Lieutenant Dudleigh, to communicate with you about your present +position. I take it for granted that we shall not be overheard, and +propose to carry on this conversation in as low a tone as possible." + +Saying this, the stranger took a quick, sharp glance through his +spectacles around the room. + +His voice was dry and thin, his manner abrupt and stiff and +business-like. Evidently he was a dried-up lawyer, whose whole life had +been passed among parchments. + +Edith assured him that from where they were sitting they could not be +overheard if they spoke in a moderately low voice. This appeared to +satisfy the stranger, and after another survey of the room, he drew +forth from his breast pocket a wallet filled with papers--a well-worn, +fat, business-like wallet--and taking from this a card, he rose stiffly +and held this toward Edith. She took it, and glancing over it read the +address: + + HENRY BARBER, + SOLICITOR, + Inner Temple, London. + +Edith bowed. "Lieutenant Dudleigh told me your name," said she. + +"And now," said he, "let us proceed to business, for my time is limited. + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh," he began, "has already explained to me, in a +general way, the state of your affairs. He found me at Lyons, where I +was engaged in some important business, and made me come to England at +once. He directed me verbally, though not formally or in proper order, +to investigate as much as I could about your affairs before coming here, +and requested me to consider myself as your solicitor. That, I suppose, +is quite correct, is it not?" + +"It is," said Edith. + +"Under these circumstances," continued Barber, "I at once went to the +proper quarter, and investigated the will of your late father; for your +whole position, as you must be aware, depends upon that. Of course no +will can deprive you of your lawful inheritance in real estate, which +the law of the country secures to you and yours forever; but yet it may +surround you with certain restrictions more or less binding. Now it was +my object to see about the nature of these restrictions, and so +understand your peculiar position." + +Here Barber paused, and taking out his wallet, drew from it a slip of +paper on which he had penciled some memoranda. + +"In the multiplicity of my legal cares, Miss Dalton," he continued, "I +find it necessary to jot down notes with reference to each individual +case. It prevents confusion and saves time, both of which are, to a +lawyer, considerations of the utmost moment. + +"And now, with reference to your case, first of all, the will and the +business of the guardianship--let us see about that. According to this +will, you, the heir, are left under the care of two guardians for a +certain time. One of these guardians is on the spot. The other is not. +Each of these men has equal powers. Each one of these is trustee for +you, and guardian of you. But one has no power superior to the other. +This is what the will distinctly lays down. Of course, Miss Dalton, you +will perceive that the first necessary thing is to know this, What are +the powers of a guardian? Is it not?" + +Edith bowed. The mention of two guardians had filled her with eager +curiosity, but she repressed this feeling for the present, so as not to +interrupt the lawyer in his speech. + +"What, then, are the powers of a guardian? To express this in the +simplest way, so that you can understand those powers perfectly, a +guardian stands, as the law has it, _in loco parentis_--which means +that he is the same as a father. The father dies; he perpetuates his +authority by handing it over to another. He is not dead, then. The +_man_ dies, but the _father_ lives in the person of the +guardian whom he may have appointed. Such," said Mr. Barber, with +indescribable emphasis--"such, Miss Dalton, is the LAW. You must know," +he continued, "that the law is very explicit on the subject of +guardianship. Once make a man a guardian and, as I have remarked, he +forthwith stands _in loco parentis_, and the ward is his child in +the eye of the LAW. Do you understand?" + +"Yes," said Edith, in a despondent tone. She felt disappointment and +discouragement at hearing all this, and could only hope that there would +be something yet which would open better prospects. + +"Such, then, are the powers of a guardian," continued Barber. "They are +very strong, and that will, by giving you guardians, has tied you up." + +"But I am of age," said Edith, meekly. + +Barber waved his hand slightly. "That," said he, "is a point which I +shall consider presently. Just now I will say this--that the framer of +that will considered all these points, and arranged that the +guardianship should continue until such time as you might obtain another +guardian of another kind, before whom all others are powerless." + +"But who are my guardians?" asked Edith, in great excitement, unable any +longer to repress her curiosity. "One is Wiggins, I know. Who is the +other?" + +"One," said Barber, "is, as you say, John Wiggins; the other is Sir +Lionel Dudleigh." + +"Sir Lionel Dudleigh!" exclaimed Edith, while a feeling of profound +satisfaction came to her. "Oh, how glad I am!" + +"It is indeed a good thing that it is so," said Barber; "but, +unfortunately, he can not at present be of service. For where is he? He +is in parts unknown. He is out of the country. He is, for the present, +the same as though he were dead. It is not probable that he has heard of +your father's death, or of the existence of this will, unless, indeed, +Mr. Wiggins has taken the trouble to find out where he is, and send him +the information. That, however, is not likely. How, then, is it with +you? You have, in point of fact, at the present time virtually but +_one guardian_. He is here on the spot. He is exerting his +authority, and you assert, I think, that he subjects you to a sort of +imprisonment. Miss Dalton, he has a right to do this." + +Saying this, Barber was silent for a moment, and looked at Edith, and +then at the floor. On the other hand she looked steadfastly at him; but +her hand trembled, and an expression of utter hopelessness came over her +face. + +"Is that all that you have to tell me?" she said at last, in a +despairing voice. + +"Certainly not, Miss Dalton," said Barber--"certainly not. I have much +more to say. But first it was necessary to explain your position, and +lay down the LAW. There is only one reason why you sent for me, and why +I came. You wish, by some means or other, to get free from the control +of this guardian, John Wiggins." + +"Yes," said Edith, earnestly. + +"Very well," said Barber. "I know all about that. I have been informed +by Lieutenant Dudleigh. You wish in some way or other to gain your +freedom. Now in order to do this there are two different ways, Miss +Dalton, and only two. The first is to find your other guardian, and +obtain his assistance. Who is he? Sir Lionel Dudleigh. Where is he? No +one knows. What then? He must be found. You must send out emissaries, +messengers, detectives, in short; you must send off some one who will +find him wherever he is, and make him acquainted with your position. But +suppose that you can not find him, or that he is indifferent to your +interests--a thing which is certainly possible--what then? What are you +to do? You are then under the control of John Wiggins, your remaining +guardian; and it remains to be seen whether, by the provisions of the +will, there is any other way in which you may escape from that control. +Now the will has made provisions, and here is the other of those two +ways of escape of which I spoke. This is marriage. If you were to marry, +that moment you would be free from the control of John Wiggins; and not +only so, but he would at once be compelled to quit the premises, and +hand in his accounts. Of course his object is to prevent any thing of +that kind, which would be so ruinous to him, and therefore he will keep +you shut up, if possible, as long as he lives; but if you should adopt +this way of escape, Miss Dalton, you would turn the tables at once; and +if, as I have understood is the case, he has made any misappropriations +of money, or defalcations of any kind, he will be bound to make them +good, to the uttermost farthing. Such, Miss Dalton, is the LAW." + +"And I have no better prospect than this?" exclaimed Edith, in deep +dejection. + +"Those, Miss Dalton, are the only two courses possible." + +"And if Sir Lionel can not be found?" + +"Then you will have to fall back on the other alternative." + +"But that is out of the question." + +"Such, unfortunately are the only provisions of the will." + +"Then there is no hope," sighed Edith. + +"Hope? Oh yes! There is plenty of hope. In the first place I would urge +you to lose no time in searching after your uncle." + +"I shall do so. Will you see to it?" + +"I will do all that I can. You wish me, of course, to act in connection +with Lieutenant Dudleigh." + +"Of course." + +"I will begin at once. And now I must go." + +The lawyer put his memoranda back in the wallet, restoring the latter to +his pocket, and took his hat. + +"But must I remain a prisoner here?" cried Edith. "Is there no law to +free me--none whatever? After all, I am a British subject, and I have +always understood that in England no one can be imprisoned without a +trial." + +"You are a ward, Miss Dalton, and guardians can control their wards, as +parents control children." + +"But parents can not control children who are of age." + +[Illustration: "SUCH MISS DALTON, IS THE LAW!"] + +"A ward is under age till the time specified in the legal instrument +that appoints the guardian. You, until marriage, are what the law calls +an 'infant.' But do not be discouraged, Miss Dalton. We will hunt up Sir +Lionel, and if he can be found we will bring him back to England." + +Saying this, in the same dry, business-like tone that he had used all +along, Barber bowed himself out. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +NEW OBLIGATIONS. + +That interview with the lawyer left Edith in a state of the deepest +dejection. She had certainly not anticipated any thing like this. She +expected that measures would at once be taken to carry on a contest with +Wiggins, and give her her lawful rights, and above all her freedom. It +never for a moment entered her mind to question the truth of a single +statement that Barber had made. His whole communication with her was of +the most business-like character, as it seemed to her, and she thought +he must be eminent in his profession, or else Dudleigh would not have +employed him. And this was the end of all that hope in which she had +been indulging! Her freedom now seemed farther removed than ever. How +could Sir Lionel ever be found? According to Dudleigh, he lived the life +of a wanderer, and left no trace behind him. It was hard for her to +think that her only hope depended upon finding him. + +On the following day Dudleigh came, looking as calm and as unruffled as +usual. + +"Barber has gone back," said he. "I knew before what he was going to +tell you. I had not the heart to tell you myself, or even to be here +when he was telling you." + +"It might have saved me some disappointment if _you_ had told me." + +"But the disappointment would have been as great, and I had not the +heart to inflict sorrow myself upon _you_! I know, after Barber had +explained it to me, how I felt; and I can form some idea of the nature +of your feelings." + +"So there is nothing to be done," said Edith, with a sigh. + +"Pardon me, there is very much indeed to be done, though whether it will +result in any thing remains to be seen." + +"What can I do?" + +"Do? Why, as Barber said, hunt up Sir Lionel." + +"I'll never find him." + +"Yes, you can." + +"How?" + +"By searching, of course. And that is what I have come about now." + +"Have you thought of any thing new?" + +"No, nothing. I merely came to make a proposal." + +"What is it?" asked Edith, languidly; for now there seemed no chance for +any thing. + +"It is this," said Dudleigh. "I propose, if you will allow me, to go +myself." + +"You!" exclaimed Edith, in great surprise. + +"Yes." + +"But can you obtain leave to go? You have to go abroad, won't you?" + +"Yes, of course." + +"But can you leave your regiment?" + +"Oh yes. I can get leave of absence for as long a time as will be needed +for that, I think, without difficulty. In fact, before leaving London, +as soon as I heard Barber's opinion, I put in my request at once for two +months' leave, and I have every reason to believe that they will allow +it. I have one or two influential friends, you know." + +"And will you really go? asked Edith, in tones of deep feeling, with all +her gratitude evident in her tone and expression. + +"Yes, if you will allow me." + +"I?--allow you? I am only too glad to have a friend who is willing to +undertake such a thing for me in my distress." + +"There is nothing, Miss Dalton, which I would not undertake for you." + +"You are overwhelming me with obligations," said Edith. "What you have +already done is more than I can ever repay." + +"Do not speak of obligations," said Dudleigh, earnestly. "My best reward +is the thought that I may have given you even a temporary relief." + +"You have given me much happiness," said Edith, earnestly; "and if it +proves to be only temporary it will not be your fault. You overwhelm me +with a sense of obligation." + +"Now really, Miss Dalton, if you talk in that way, you will make me feel +ashamed. After all, what have I done? Nothing more than any gentleman +would do. But do not say a word about it again. Let it be taken for +granted that I do this from a selfish motive--simply to please myself, +you know; simply because I love--to do it." + +Dudleigh spoke in his usual quiet way, without any particular ardor, +although once or twice his voice grew more earnest than usual. Edith +said nothing. She felt a little embarrassed, but the self-possession of +Dudley was perfect; he hinted strongly at love, but seemed not at all +like an ardent lover. He looked and acted simply like a friend; and as +Edith needed a friend above all things, she was glad to accept his +services. + +"My present plan," said he, "can be easily explained. Sir Lionel seems +to be somewhere about the Mediterranean. Any letters that are sent to +him have to be directed to Messrs. Chatellon, Comeaux, and Co., +Marseilles, who forward them to him. I have already written to these +gentlemen, asking where he is; but when they sent their reply they did +not know. They stated, however, that on hearing from him they would let +me know. But to wait for an answer from these gentlemen would be too +great a trial for your patience. You cannot be satisfied, nor could I +unless something is being done. It would simply kill you to wait here, +day after day, week after week, month after month, for letters that +would never come. Nothing is so terrible. You must send some one. Now I +think that the best one you can send is myself, and I hope I speak +without vanity. No mere hireling can go on this service. The one who +goes should have different motives, and for my part I should feel the +search to have a personal interest, and should work for you as I would +for myself." + +"Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh," said Edith, "there is no need for me to say +how I should feel about a search made by you. I refrain from expressions +of gratitude, since you forbid them; and so I do not know what to say." + +"Say nothing, then, and--I do not like to say it, but I must--hope for +nothing. If you hope, you may be disappointed. If you do not hope, you +can not be. But in any case, whether you are disappointed or not, +remember this--that in spite of these musty lawyers, if the worst comes +to the worst you have one steadfast friend, and that if you say the word +I will force a way for you through those gates. If you ever feel +discouraged, remember that. It is a great preventive against despair to +know that you have an alternative of some kind. And now I will take my +departure, for the train will leave soon, and I must go at once." + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +THE SOURCES OF THE NILE. + +At length, after an absence of four or five weeks, Dudleigh returned. +Edith had tried hard not to hope, so as to be prepared for a +disappointment; but after all, in spite of her efforts, she could not +help hoping. She put great confidence in Dudleigh's energy and +perseverance, and thought that he would be able not only to find out +where Sir Lionel might be, but even to see him, and make him acquainted +with her situation. He had already done so much for her that it seemed +quite possible for him to do this. As the days passed by she found +herself looking forward to his return as the time of her certain +deliverance, until at length hope grew into confidence, and the idea of +disappointment was completely driven away. + +At last he came, and his first appearance put to flight all her hopes, +and filled her with a nameless terror. He looked dejected and weary. He +asked after her health, and whether she had been in any way molested; +after which Edith entreated him to tell her the worst. + +"For you bring bad news," said she--"I see it in your face. Tell me the +worst." + +Dudleigh mournfully shook his head. + +"You have not found him, then?" + +"No." + +"But you must have heard something about him. He is at least alive, is +he not?" + +"I don't know even that." + +"What! has any thing happened to him?" + +"Not that I know of. But he has started on a long and perilous +excursion; and whether he will ever return or not is more than I can +say." + +"Then there is no hope," said Edith, in a voice of despair. + +Dudleigh was silent for a time. + +"I will tell you all," he replied at length. "When I left you I went at +once to Marseilles. I called on Sir Lionel's agents there, but found +that they had heard nothing from him whatever. They said that when he +last left that city he had gone to Turkey. I then set off for +Constantinople, and spent a week there, trying to find some traces of +him. At the British Embassy they said that he had only remained one day +in the city, and had then gone in his yacht, which he had brought with +him, on a cruise in the Black Sea. But whether he had returned or not no +one knew. At last I met with a merchant who knew him, and he told me +that he had returned and gone to Athens. I went to Athens, and found +that he had been there at one of the hotels, the landlord of which +informed me that he had spent three days there and had left for parts +unknown. I left letters at each of these places, and sent others to +Smyrna, Beyrout, Jaffa, and Alexandria. Then I returned to Marseilles. +There, to my surprise, I learned that, a few days after I left, they had +heard from Sir Lionel, who was in Alexandria, and about to start on the +maddest expedition that was ever heard of--a journey up the Nile, into +the inaccessible regions of Central Africa--to try to discover the +sources of that river. He simply announced to his agents that all his +preparations were completed, and that he would leave immediately. What +could I do then? I did the only thing there was to be done, and hurried +to Alexandria. Of course he had left the place before my letter reached +it; and I learned that from the rapid way in which he set out he must +already be far out of reach. Even then I would have gone after him, and +tracked him to the sources of the Nile themselves, if I had been able. +But I had no experience in travel of that kind. I couldn't manage a band +of Arabs, for I didn't know a word of their language, and of course I +could not stop to study it. That idea would have been absurd. Besides, +other reasons had weight with me, and so I came reluctantly back." + +"Africa! the sources of the Nile!" exclaimed Edith, dolefully. "I can't +understand why he should have chosen those places." + +"Well, it is no new idea. It is a thing that he has had in his mind for +years. I have heard him talk of it long ago. I remember hearing him, +once say that the only chance now remaining by which a man could gain +brilliant distinction was the discovery of the sources of the Nile. +Every other part of the world, he said, is known." + +"How long should you think he might be absent on such a journey?" asked +Edith, anxiously. + +"How long? Ah! Miss Dalton, so long that it should not be thought of. +Years must elapse before he returns." + +"Years!" + +"Yes--if he ever does return," said Dudleigh, in a mournful voice. "With +him now the question is not, When will he return? but rather, Will he +ever return? It is, as you must know, a most desperate and hopeless +undertaking. For thousands of years men have tried that journey, and +failed." + +"But may he not be baffled and turn back? There is some hope in that. +He will find out that it is impossible." And Edith for a moment grasped +at that thought. + +"You will think me one of Job's comforters," said Dudleigh, with a +melancholy smile. "But I think it is a poor mark of friendship to hide +the truth. It is better for you to know all now. The fact is, there +would be some hope of his return if he were any other than Sir Lionel +Dudleigh. But being what he is, he will follow his purpose to the end. +He is a man of unflinching courage and inflexible determination. More +than this, he announced to his friends before he left that he would +either bring back the truth about the sources of the Nile, or else he +would not come back at all. So now he has not only his resolution to +impel him, but his pride also." + +"This hope, then, fails me utterly," said Edith, after a long pause. + +"I fear so." + +"He is, in fact, the same as dead." + +"Yes, as far as you are concerned, and your present needs." + +"This is terrible!" + +"Miss Dalton, I do not know what to say. I can only say that my heart +aches for you. I delayed on the road, because I could not bear to bring +this news to you. Then I wrote a letter, and thought of sending that, +but I feared you might not get it. I could not bear to see you in +sorrow." + +"You, at least, Lieutenant Dudleigh," said Edith, earnestly, "have acted +toward me like a true friend and a true gentleman. No one could have +done more. It is some consolation to know that every thing which was +possible has been done." + +There was now a long pause. Each one was lost in thought. Edith's sad +face was turned toward Dudleigh, but she did not notice him. She was +wrapped in her own thoughts, and wondering how long she could endure the +life that now lay before her. + +"Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh at length, in a mournful voice, "I have to +leave at once to join my regiment, for my leave is up, and it may be +some time before I see you again." + +He paused. + +Edith looked at him earnestly, fearful of what she thought might be +coming. Would it be a confession of love? How strong that love must be +which had prompted him to such devotion! And yet she could not return +it? Yet if he said any thing about it, what could she say? Could she +refuse one who had done so much, one who loved her so deeply, one who +was the only friend now left her? + +"It is heart-breaking to leave you here, Miss Dalton," he continued, +"among unscrupulous enemies. When I am away I shall be distracted by a +thousand fears about you. How can you endure this life? And yet I might +do something to save you from it. My own life is at your disposal. Do +you wish to be free now? Will you have that gate opened, and fly?" + +Edith said not a word. She was filled with extreme agitation. Fly! Did +that mean to fly with him? to escape with a lover? and then--what? + +"If you wish to escape now, at this moment, Miss Dalton, all that you +have to do is to go out with me. I am armed. If there is any resistance, +I can force a way through. The first man that dares to bar the way +dies. As for me, if I fall, I shall ask nothing more." + +And saying this, Dudleigh looked at Edith inquiringly. + +But Edith faltered. Her horror of bloodshed was great. Was her +situation so desperate that she could sacrifice a human life to gain her +freedom? Perhaps that life might be Dudleigh's. Could she risk the life +of the man who had done so much for her? She could not. No, after all, +she shrank from gaining her freedom at such a risk. + +Then, again, if she were free, where could she go? She knew now how +utterly forlorn she was. Miss Plympton was gone, and Sir Lionel was +gone. There were none left. She could not live without money, and all +her vast property was under the control of another. Dudleigh had said +nothing about love either: and she was grateful for his delicacy. Did +he intend in his deep devotion to support her himself, or what did he +intend? + +"You hesitate, Miss Dalton," said he at last. "Have you your old fear +about bloodshed?" + +"I can not bear to risk such a sacrifice," said Edith. + +"But one has a right to fly from slavery, and to destroy any one who +tries to prevent his escape." + +"I can not," said Edith. "The blood that might be shed would stain all +my life. Better to endure my misery as best I can. It must become far +worse before I can consent to any thing so terrible as the death of a +fellow-being." + +"You may yet consent even to that, may you not?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, if you do, you have one on whom you can rely. At any rate, I do +not think there is any reason for you to fear downright cruelty here. +The law protects you from that, just as it protects a child. You are not +a captive in the hands of one of those old feudal barons whom we read +about. You are simply a ward under the control of a guardian--a thing +most odious to one like you, yet one which does not make you liable to +any physical evil. But this is poor comfort. I know that your position +will become more intolerable as time goes on; and, Miss Dalton, whenever +you can bear it no longer, remember that I am ready. Your only danger +would be if I should happen to be ordered out of England. But even then +I would order Barber to watch over you." + +Edith sighed. Her future seemed dark indeed. The chance that Dudleigh +might be ordered to America or India filled her with new alarm. + +Dudleigh rose to go. + +"In six or eight weeks," said he, "I hope to come again. I shall never +forget you, but day and night I shall be planning for your happiness." + +He took her hand as he said this. Edith noticed that the hand which held +hers was as cold as ice. He raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. + +Soon after he left. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +A THREATENING LETTER. + +On the day after the departure of Dudleigh, Edith found a letter lying +on her table. It was addressed to her in that stiff, constrained hand +which she knew so well as belonging to that enemy of her life and of her +race--John Wiggins. With some curiosity as to the motive which he might +have in thus writing to her, she opened the letter, and read the +following: + +"DEAR MISS DALTON,--I feel myself incapable of sustaining another +interview with you, and I am therefore reduced to the necessity of +writing. + +"I have been deeply pained for a long time at the recklessness with +which you receive total strangers as visitors, and admit them to your +confidence. I have already warned you, but my warnings were received by +you in such a manner as to prevent my encountering another interview. + +"I write now to inform you that for your own sake, your own future, and +your own good name, it is my fixed intention to put a stop to these +interviews. This must be done, whatever may be the cost. You must +understand from this that there is nothing left for you but to obey. + +"If after this you allow these adventurers one single interview more, I +shall be under the unpleasant necessity of limiting your freedom to an +extent that may be painful to you, and even still more so to myself. + +"Yours, JOHN WIGGINS." + +Edith read this letter over and over again, with many mingled feelings. +Wiggins had left her so much to herself of late that she had begun to +count upon his continued inaction, and supposed that he was too much +afraid of Dudleigh to interfere, or to make any opposition whatever to +his visits. Now, however, she saw that he had made up his mind to +action, and she fully believed that he was not the man who would make +any idle menace. + +The thing that offended Edith most in this letter was what she +considered its insolence. Its tone was that of a superior addressing an +inferior--a patron speaking to a dependent. At this all the stubborn +pride of Edith's nature was outraged, and rose in rebellion; but above +all was that pride stimulated by the word "obey." + +She also saw in that letter the indications of an unpleasant development +of the policy of Wiggins, which would make her future darker than her +present was. Hitherto he had simply surrounded her with a barrier over +which she could not pass, admitting to her only those whom he wished, or +whom he could not keep away. But now she saw some approach made to a +more positive tyranny. There was a threat of limiting her freedom. +What that meant she could easily conjecture. Wiggins was evidently +dissatisfied with the liberty which she still had of walking over the +grounds. He now intended to confine her within the Hall--perhaps in her +own room. + +This showed her what she had to expect in the future. The steps of her +tyrant's progress would be gradual, but terrible. First, perhaps she +would be confined to the Hall, then to her own rooms, and finally +perhaps to some small chamber--some cell--where she would live a living +death as long as her jailer might allow her. + +In addition to this open show of tyranny, she also saw what seemed to +her the secret craft by which Wiggins had contrived an excuse for +further restraint. She considered Mowbray and Mrs. Mowbray as direct +agents of his. As for Dudleigh, she now though that Wiggins had not been +so much afraid of him as he had appeared to be, but had allowed him to +come so as to gain an excuse for further coercion. It was evident to +Edith that Dudleigh's transparent integrity of character and his ardent +espousal of her cause must be well known to Wiggins, and that he only +tolerated this visitor so as to gain a plausible pretext for putting her +under restraint. + +That letter threw an additional gloom over Edith's life, and lent a +fresh misery to her situation. The prospect before her now was dark +indeed. She was in a prison-house, where her imprisonment seemed +destined to grow closer and closer. There was no reason why Wiggins +should spare her at all. Having so successfully shut her within the +grounds for so long a time, he would now be able to carry out any mode +of confinement which might be desirable to him. She had heard of people +being confined in private mad-houses, through the conspiracy of +relatives who coveted their property. Thus far she had believed these +stories to be wholly imaginary, but now she began to believe them true. +Her own case had shown her the possibility of unjust and illegal +imprisonment, and she had not yet been able to find out any mode of +escape. This place seemed now to be her future prison-house, where her +imprisonment would grow from bad to worse, and where she herself, under +the terrible struggle of feeling to which she would be subject, might +finally sink into a state of madness. + +Such a prospect was terrible beyond words. It filled her with horror, +and she regarded her future with the most gloomy forebodings. In the +face of all this she had a sense of the most utter helplessness, and the +disappointments which she had thus far encountered only served to deepen +her dejection. + +In the midst of all this there was one hope for her, and one only. + +That solitary hope rested altogether on her friend Dudleigh. When he +last left her he had promised to come to her again in six or eight +weeks. This, then, was the only thing left, and to his return she looked +forward incessantly, with the most eager and impatient hope. + +To her it now seemed a matter of secondary importance what might be her +own feelings toward Dudleigh. She felt confident of his love toward her, +and in the abhorrence with which she recoiled from the terrible future +which Wiggins was planning for her she was able to contemplate +Dudleigh's passion with complacency. She did not love the little man, +but if he could save her from the horror that rose before her, she +resolved to shrink from no sacrifice of feeling, but grant him whatever +reward he might claim. + +Time passed. Six weeks were over, but there were no signs of Dudleigh. +The suspense of Edith now became terrible. She began to fear that +Wiggins had shut him out, and had refused to allow him to enter again. +If this were so, and if Dudleigh had submitted to such exclusion, then +all was indeed lost. But Edith would not yet believe it. She clung to +hope, and since he had said "six or eight weeks," she thought that she +might wait the extreme limit mentioned by him before yielding to +despair. + +Eight weeks passed. + +On the day when those weeks had expired Edith found herself in a fever +of suspense, devoured by the most intolerable impatience, with all her +thoughts and feelings now centred upon Dudleigh, and her last hope fixed +upon him only. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +THE PROPOSAL. + +Eight weeks passed. + +Edith's impatience was uncontrollable. Thus far she had passed most of +the time in her own room; but now the confinement was more than she +could endure. She went out into the grounds, where she wandered day +after day, watching and listening, restlessly and feverishly, for the +approach of her friend. At length one day, as she was walking down the +avenue, a well-known figure came up advancing toward her, at sight of +which a thrill of joy passed through her. It was he. At last Little +Dudleigh! + +In her great joy she did not seek to conceal her feelings, or to +maintain that reserve which thus far she had manifested in her +interviews with him. All this was thrown aside. Here stood at last her +one true friend, the one whose loss she had lamented, whose return she +had looked for so eagerly; the one friend coming to her through the +enemies who intervened. With a rapid step she advanced toward him. She +held out her hands, and pressed his warmly. Her lips quivered, tears +started to her eyes, but she did not speak. + +"I am back again, Miss Dalton," said Little Dudleigh, joyously. "But how +changed you are! You have suffered. I see it in your face. What is the +matter? Has any thing new happened? Has that villain dared to offer +insult? Ah, why was I not here before? But I could not come. I came as +soon as I could." + +Edith murmured a few words in reply, and then they walked together at a +slow pace along the avenue. Edith did not care to go back to the Hall, +where all was so gloomy, but preferred the fresh pure air, and the +cheering face of nature. + +As they walked on together Edith recounted the events of her life since +she had last seen him. Now all her long pent-up feelings burst forth +without restraint. At last she had some one to whom she could confide +her sorrows, and she found it sweet to talk to one whom she knew to be +so full of sympathy. To all this Dudleigh listened with the profoundest +attention, and with visible agitation. + +In all that she said and in all her manner Edith freely expressed the +joy that she felt at once more meeting with a friend so tried, so true, +so valued, in whom she could trust so implicitly, and from whom she +could find sympathy. She had struggled so long in silence and in +loneliness that Dudleigh's sympathy seemed doubly sweet. + +When she ceased a long silence followed. Dudleigh's agitation still +continued. Several times he looked at her wistfully, inquiringly, +doubtfully, as if about to speak, and each time he hesitated. But at +last, with a strong effort, he spoke. + +"I must say it, Miss Dalton," said he. "I am compelled to. I came here +this day--for the sole purpose of saying--something which--you--may be +unwilling to hear. I have hesitated long, and staid away longer on this +account, yet I must say it now. You are in a fearful position, Miss +Dalton. You are in the power of an unprincipled and a desperate man. I +feel for you most deeply. You are always in my thoughts. In order to +assist you I have done all that I could. I do not wish to make any +allusions to what I have done, but rather to what I have felt, and shall +feel. You have become very dear to me. I know I am not worthy of you. +You are above me. I am only a humble lieutenant; you are the lady of +Dalton Hall; but I can not bear to--to go away and leave one whom I love +in the power of a villain. Dare I offer you my protection? Will it be +too much to ask you to be mine? I do not hope that you can look upon me +just yet with any such feelings as love, but I see that you treat me as +a friend, and you have honored me with your confidence. I have never +said any thing about my love to you, but perhaps you have not been +altogether without suspicion about it. Had I found Sir Lionel, or had I +thought that he was at all accessible, I would never have made my humble +confession until you were in a different position. I am ashamed to make +it now, for though I know that you would not suspect me of any thing +base, yet it looks as if I were taking advantage of your necessities. +But I know that to a mind like yours such a suspicion would never come; +and I am comforted by the thought that if you do listen to my request it +will lead, to your safety. I think, too, that if it were possible for +you to consent, even if you felt no very tender sentiment toward me, you +would have from me a devotion such as few others are capable of feeling. +Under such circumstances you might not be altogether unhappy." + +All this Dudleigh had spoken with feverish rapidity, and with every sign +of the strongest agitation, occasionally stopping, and then resuming his +remarks in a headlong way. But if he had felt agitation, Edith had felt +at least quite as much. At the first mention of his proposal her head +sank forward, and she looked fixedly upon the ground with downcast eyes, +while her tears fell abundantly. She said nothing. Dudleigh in his +frequent pauses seemed to expect that she would say something, but she +did not. + +Edith's feelings were of the most distressing kind. She had, of course, +anticipated something like this, but had never yet been able to decide +what she should do in the event of such a confession. She did not love +him. Her feelings toward him were of a totally different kind. It seemed +to her that such a feeling as love could never by any possibility be +felt by her for him. And yet she had a very strong regard for him. His +society was very pleasant to her. She would have done much and +sacrificed much for his sake. But to be his wife, that was a thing which +seemed odious. + +Yet what could she do! Her position was intolerable and full of peril. +If she were his wife, in one moment she would be safe, free, and under +the protection of one who loved her with utter devotion. True, she had +no such sentiment toward him as a wife should have for a husband, but he +himself was aware of that, and in spite of that was willing, nay, eager, +to take her. She was touched to the heart by his self-depreciation and +profound respect. + +Then, again, she thought, ought not he himself to be considered? Had he +no claims? He had given himself up to her; he had done much for her. He +had offered again and again to give up his life for her. Ought not such +rare devotion to meet with some reward? And what reward could she ever +give? There was only one which he wanted--herself. Could she refuse him +that? + +Dudleigh said not another word, and in that long and most embarrassing +silence he looked away so as not to add to her confusion. Edith did not +know what to do or say. Could she refuse him? Then how ungrateful she +would be to her best friend! But if he should leave her? What then? A +life of despair! The complete triumph of Wiggins. A living death. + +Was it at all singular that she recoiled from such an alternative? She +could not endure this captivity any longer. And was it, then, so +dreadful to give herself to the man who adored her? No. If she did not +love him, she at least had a strong friendship, and this in time might +change to love. She had a greater regard for him than for any other +man. Distasteful? It was. Yes. But it was far better than this +imprisonment. She must take him as her husband, or lose him forever. He +could do no more for her unless she became his wife. He could only save +her by marrying her. + +She was touched by his present attitude. He was waiting so patiently, +so humbly. She saw his deep agitation. + +Suddenly, by a quick movement, she turned toward him and held out her +hand. Dudleigh took it, and for a moment each gazed into the other's +eyes, regardless of observation. Dudleigh's face was deathly pale, and +his hand as cold as ice. + +"Oh, my friend," said Edith, in a low, hesitating voice, "what can I say +to you? I can not give you love. I have no such feeling, but I feel +deep gratitude. I know your worth. You have done so much, and I wish I +could feel different. If you take me as I am, I--I--I am--yours. But I +am not worthy. No, I am not--not worthy of such devotion. You love me, +but I do not love you. What can I do? Yet in spite of this, if you ask +me, I am--yours." + +Edith spoke with downcast eyes and deep embarrassment and frequent +hesitation. Her last words died away almost into a whisper. But the +agitation of Dudleigh was now even greater than her own. A change came +over him that was terrible to witness. As he took her hand he trembled, +almost convulsively, from head to foot. His face became ghastly white, +he pressed his hand against his heart, his breathing was thick and +oppressed, big drops of perspiration started forth upon his brow, and at +last, to Edith's amazement, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. Then +he dropped her hand, and turned away, murmuring some inarticulate words. + +At this Edith's confusion passed away, and changed to wonder. What was +the meaning of this? Tears and sobs--and from a man! But the thought at +once occurred that this was his sensitiveness, and that it arose from +her telling him so plainly that she did not love him. "I can not love +him, and he knows it," she thought, "and it breaks his heart, poor +fellow! How I wish I could console him!" + +Suddenly Dudleigh dashed his hand across his eyes, and walked swiftly +onward. Edith followed as fast as she could, keeping him in sight, but +falling farther and farther behind. At length he turned and came back +to meet her. His eyes were downcast, and there was misery unspeakable on +his white face. As he came up to her he held out his hand, and looked at +her with a strange, woful gaze. + +Edith took the hand which he held out. + +"Miss Dalton," said he, "you said you would be mine." + +[Illustration: "THEN HE DROPPED HER HAND, AND TURNED AWAY."] + +Edith's lips moved, but no sound escaped them. + +"All that you have said, Miss Dalton," he continued, "I feel most +deeply, most keenly; but how else could it have been? Yet if you will +indeed be mine, I will give you my love and gratitude. I will save you +from--from danger; I will--will--bless you." He stopped, and looked at +her with quivering lips, while an expression of agony came across his +face. + +But Edith's eyes were downcast now, and she did not see this new anguish +of his; her own distress was too great. + +Dudleigh dropped her hand again. + +"Where shall it be?" said he, hurriedly and nervously. "It can not be in +the Hall. Will you venture to pass the gates with me?--I will force my +way through--or are you afraid?" + +"I can not consent to bloodshed," said Edith. + +"I thought of that," said Dudleigh, "and I have one more plan--if you +will only consent. It is not much to you who have suffered so much. It +will make your way to freedom easy. Can we not meet in the park +somewhere--in some secluded place?" + +"In the park?" repeated Edith, abstractedly. + +"I can bring a clergyman inside," said Dudleigh, in a low voice. + +Edith shuddered. The idea was not yet less repugnant than it had been. +But she had consented, and here was this man--her only friend, her +adorer--with all his love and devotion. If she did not love him, she +must pity him. She had also given her word. As to the way in which this +promise might be carried out, it was a matter of indifference. At any +rate, she would escape from her hateful prison. And what mattered it +how, or where, or when the ceremony might be performed? + +"Oh, Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh, "forgive me! forgive me! I must go +away in two days. Could you consent to let this be--tomorrow?" + +Edith made no reply. She trembled. Her head sank down lower. + +"There is one place," said Dudleigh, and then hesitated. Edith said +nothing. There was anguish in her face and in her heart. + +"The chapel--" + +"The chapel," she repeated, dreamily. + +"It is hidden among the trees. Do you know it? It is away from all +observation." + +Edith bowed her head. She knew it well. It was off the main avenue--not +far away from the Hall. + +"Can you get out of the house after dark?" said Dudleigh, in a feverish +whisper. "It must be after dark, and we must be unobserved. For if +Wiggins were to see us he would come as your guardian, and take you +back, and shut you up--perhaps for life." + +This suggestion about Wiggins chimed in with Edith's own fears. It made +her desperate. The marriage seemed less abhorrent; it was eclipsed by +the horrors of imprisonment for life. Discovery now--after that last +threat of his--would bring a closer restraint, stricter imprisonment, +the loss of all hope. + +"I can get out," she said, hurriedly. + +"Where shall I find you?" + +"There is a private door at the east end--" + +"I know the door." + +"I can get out through that. No one will think of my leaving the Hall +after dark." + +"I will meet you there." + +Edith sighed heavily. + +"To-morrow evening," said Dudleigh, "at ten o'clock. It will be dark +then. Will you meet me?" + +"I will," said Edith, calmly. + +"I shall only hope, then," said he, "that no new restraint may be +imposed upon you to prevent your coming. And now I will go--to meet you +to-morrow." + +He seized her hand in his icy grasp, wrung it convulsively, and bowing +with his pallid face, walked quickly away. + +There was a weight on Edith's heart; but in spite of this, Dudleigh's +last look, his agitated manner, and his deep love filled her with pity, +and made her anxious to carry out her act of self-sacrifice for so dear +and so true a friend. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +A MARRIAGE IN THE DARK. + +The chapel referred to was a sombre edifice over the graves of the +Daltons. Beneath it were the vaults where reposed the remains of Edith's +ancestors. The chapel was used for the celebration of burial rites. It +was in this place that the marriage was to take place. Edith, in her +gloom, thought the place an appropriate one. Let the marriage be there, +she thought--in that place where never anything but burials has been +known before. Could she have changed the one service into the other, she +would have done so. + +And yet she would not go back, for it was the least of two evils. The +other alternative was captivity under the iron hand of Wiggins--Wiggins +the adventurer, the forger, the betrayer of her father, whose power over +herself was a perpetual insult to that father's memory--a thing +intolerable, a thing of horror. Why should she not give herself to the +man who loved her, even if her own love was wanting, when such an act +would free her from so accursed a tyranny? + +[Illustration: "SHE SAW THROUGH THE GLOOM A FIGURE"] + +Agitated and excited, she lingered through the hours of the day after +parting with Dudleigh. Night came, but brought no rest; and the +following day dawned, and the irrevocable hour drew nigh. That day was +one filled with strange fears, chief among which was the thought that +Wiggins might discover all, or suspect it, and arrest her flight. But +time passed, and evening came, and Wiggins had done nothing. + +All was still. The house was always still, and surrounded her--a vast +solitude. Mrs. Dunbar was in her own room: it was always her habit to +retire early. Wiggins was far away, at the west end of the Hall. Hugo +was in his remote quarters in the attic. The vigilance which her keepers +maintained by day was relaxed at night, for they never suspected her of +any design of leaving the house after dark. Her interview with Dudleigh +must have been seen and reported, but no action that she was aware of +had been taken. Perhaps Wiggins was waiting for him to make another +call, when he would step forth and formally lock her up in her room. + +And now, as Edith prepared to carry her plan into execution, there was +nothing all around but the most profound stillness. Underneath the +story on which her room was there extended a hall, at the east end of +which there was a private stairway leading down to a small door which +opened out into the park. Leaving her room noiselessly, she descended to +the lower hall, traversed it, and descended the stairway to the door. It +was secured by a bolt only. This she drew back as noiselessly as +possible--not, however, without an unpleasantly loud grating sound. The +door opened without much difficulty. She passed through it. She shut it +after her. Then she turned to step down upon the grass. She saw through +the gloom a figure. She recognized it. It was Dudleigh. + +He held out his hand and took hers. As before, his hand was icy cold, +and he trembled violently, but Edith also was trembling with excitement +and agitation, and was therefore too much taken up with her own feelings +to notice those of others. Dudleigh did not say a word, but started off +at once, leading her by the hand. + +Now that she had gone thus far, the act seemed too terrible to be +endured, and she would have give any thing to go back. There came over +her a frightful feeling of apprehension--a deep, dark horror, +unutterable, intolerable. But it was now too late--she had to go on. And +on she went, clinging to Dudleigh, who himself showed an agitation equal +to hers. Thus they walked on in silence. Each might have heard the +strong throbbing of the other's heart, had not the excitement of each +been so overwhelming. In this way they went on, trembling, +horror-stricken, till at length they reached the chapel. + +It was a dark and sombre edifice, in the Egyptian style, now darker and +more sombre in the gloom of evening and the shadows of surrounding +trees. The door was open. As they entered, two figures advanced from the +shadows of the trees. One of these wore a white surplice; the other was +undistinguishable in the gloom, save that his stature was that of a +tall, large man. + +"The clergyman and the--witness," said Dudleigh, in a tremulous whisper. + +As these two entered, one of them closed the door. The dull creaking of +the hinges grated harshly on Edith's ears, and struck fresh horror to +her heart. She faltered and trembled. She sank back. + +"Oh, I can not, I can not!" she moaned. + +"Courage, dear one; it will soon be over," whispered Dudleigh, in an +agitated voice. + +Edith made a violent effort to regain her composure. But she felt +helpless. Her senses seemed leaving her; her heart throbbed still more +painfully; her brain whirled. She clung to Dudleigh. But as she clung to +him she felt that he trembled as violently as she herself did. This made +her feel calmer. She pitied him. Poor fellow, she thought, he sees my +agitation. He thinks I hate him. He is broken-hearted. I must be calmer +for his sake. + +"Where are the lights?" asked the clergyman. + +"Lights?" repeated Dudleigh. + +"Yes." + +"Well, it won't do to have lights," said he, in the same agitated voice. +"I--I explained all that. The light will show through the window. We +must go down into the vaults." + +Outside, it was very obscure; inside, it was quite dark. Edit could see +the outline of a large window and the white sheen of the clergyman's +surplice; nothing more was visible. + +The clergyman stood waiting. Dudleigh went to the witness and conversed +with him in a low whisper. + +"The witness," said Dudleigh, as he came back, "forgot to bring lights. +I have none. Have you any?" + +"Lights?--no," said the clergyman. + +"What shall we do?" + +"I don't know." + +"We can't go down into the vaults." + +"I should say," remarked the clergyman, "that since we have no lights, +it is far better for us to remain where we are." + +"But we may be overheard." + +"I shall speak low." + +"Isn't it a little too dark here?" asked Dudleigh, tremulously. + +"It certainly is rather dark," said the clergyman, "but I suppose it +can't be helped, and it need not make any difference. There is a witness +who has seen the parties, and as you say secrecy is needed, why, this +darkness may be all the more favorable. But it is no concern of mine. +Only I should think it equally safe, and a great deal pleasanter, to +have the ceremony here than down in the vaults." + +All this had been spoken in a quick low tone, so as to guard against +being overheard. During this scene Edith had stood trembling, half +fainting, with a kind of blank despair in her soul, and scarcely any +consciousness of what was going on. + +The witness, who had entered last, moved slowly and carefully about, and +walked up to where he could see the figure of Edith faintly defined +against the white sheen of the clergyman's surplice. He stood at her +right hand. + +"Begin," said Dudleigh; and then he said, "Miss Dalton, where are you?" + +She said nothing. She could not speak. + +"Miss Dalton," said he again. + +She tried to speak, but it ended in a moan. + +Dudleigh seemed to distinguish her now, for he went toward her, and the +next moment she felt the bridegroom at her side. + +A shudder passed through Edith. She could think of nothing but the +horror of her situation. And yet she did not think of retreating. No. +Her plighted word had been given, and the dark terror of Wiggins made it +still more impossible. Yet so deep was her agitation that there was +scarce any thought on her mind at all. + +And now the clergyman began the marriage service. He could not use his +book, of course, but he knew the service by heart, and went on fluently +enough, omitting here and there an unimportant part, and speaking in a +low voice, but very rapidly. Edith scarcely understood a word. + +Then the clergyman said: + +"Leon, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together +after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love +her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and +forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall +live?" + +The bridegroom answered, in a whisper, + +"I will." + +"Edith, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together +after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey +him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; +and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both +shall live?" + +Edith tried to say "I will," but only an unintelligible sound escaped +her. + +Then the clergyman went on, while the bridegroom repeated in a whisper +these words: + +"I, Leon, take thee, Edith, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from +this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in +sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, +according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth." + +The clergyman then said the words for Edith, but she could not repeat +the formula after him. Here and there she uttered a word or two in a +disjointed way, but that was all. + +Then Edith felt her hand taken and a ring put on her finger. + +Then the clergyman said the next formula, which the bridegroom repeated +after him in a whisper as before: + +"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my +worldly goods I thee endow," etc., etc. + +Then followed a prayer, after which the clergy man, joining their right +hands together, said, + +"Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." + +Then followed the remainder of the service, and at its conclusion the +clergyman solemnly wished them every happiness. + +"I suppose I may go now," said he; and as there was no answer, he groped +his way to the door, flung it open, and took his departure. + +During all this service Edith had been in a condition verging upon half +unconsciousness. The low murmur of voices, the hurried words of the +clergyman, the whispers of the bridegroom, were all confused together in +an unintelligible whole, and even her own answers had scarce made any +impression upon her. Her head seemed to spin, her brain to whirl, and +all her frame to sink away. At length the grating of the opening door, +the clergyman's departing footsteps, and the slight increase of light +roused her. + +She was married! + +Where was her husband? + +This thought came to her with a new horror. Deep silence had followed +the clergyman's departure. She in her weakness was not noticed. +Dudleigh, the loving, the devoted, had no love or devotion for her now. +Where was he? The silence was terrible. + +But at last that silence was broken--fearfully. + +"Come," said a voice which thrilled the inmost soul of Edith with horror +unspeakable: "I'm tired of humbugging. I'm going home. Come along, Mrs. +Dudleigh." + +The horror that passed through Edith at the sound of this voice for a +moment seemed to paralyze her. She turned to where the voice sounded. It +was the man beside her who spoke--the bridegroom! He was not +Dudleigh--not Little Dudleigh! He was tall and large. It was the +witness. What frightful mockery was this? But the confusion of thought +that arose was rudely interrupted. A strong hand was laid upon hers, +and again that voice spoke: + +"Come along, Mrs. Dudleigh!" + +"What is--this?" gasped Edith. + +"Why, you're married, that's all. You ought to know that by this time." + +"Away!" cried Edith, with a sharp cry. "Who are you? Dudleigh! +Dudleigh! where are you? Will you not help me?" + +"That's not very likely," said the same voice, in a mocking tone. "His +business is to help _me_." + +"Oh, my God! what is the meaning of this?" + +"Oh, it's simple enough. It means that you're my wife." + +"_Your_ wife! Oh, Dudleigh: oh, my friend! what does all this +mean? Why do you not speak?" + +But Dudleigh said nothing. + +"I have no objections to explaining," said the voice. "You're actually +married to me. My name is not Mowbray. It's Leon Dudleigh, the +individual that you just plighted your troth to. My small friend here is +not _Leon_ Dudleigh, whatever other Dudleigh he may call himself. +He is the witness." + +"It's false!" cried Edith. "Lieutenant Dudleigh would never betray me." + +"Well, at any rate," said Leon, "I happen to be the happy man who alone +can claim you as his bride." + +"Villain!" shrieked Edith, in utter horror. "Cursed villain! Let go my +hand. This is all mockery. Your wife!--I would die first." + +"Indeed you won't," said Leon--"not while you have me to love and to +cherish you, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and +forsaking all others, keep only unto you, in the beautiful words of that +interesting service." + +"It's a lie! it's a lie!" cried Edith. "Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh, I have +trusted you implicitly, and I trust you yet. Come to me--save me!" + +And in her anguish Edith sank down upon her knees, and held out her arms +imploringly. + +"Dudleigh!" she moaned. "Oh, my friend! Oh, only come--only save me from +this villain, and I will love--I will love and bless you--I will be your +menial--I will--" + +"Pooh!" said Leon, "I'm the only Dudleigh about. If you knew half as +much about my _dear friend_ the lieutenant as I do, you would know +what infernal nonsense you are talking;" and seizing her hand, he tried +to raise her. "Come," said he, "up with you." + +Edith tried to loosen her hand, whereupon Leon dashed it away. + +"Who wants your hand?" he cried: "I'm your husband, not your lover." + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh!" moaned Edith. + +"Well, lieutenant," said Leon, "speak up. Come along. Tell her, if you +like." + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh, save me." + +"Oh, great Heaven!" said a voice like that of the one whom Edith knew as +Lieutenant Dudleigh--"oh, great Heaven! it's too much." + +"Oh ho!" cried Leon: "so you're going to blubber too, are you? Mind, +now, it's all right if you are only true." + +"Oh, Leon, how you wring my heart!" cried the other, in a low, tremulous +voice. + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh!" cried Edith again. "Oh, my friend, answer me! +Tell me that it is all a lie. Tell me--" + +But Lieutenant Dudleigh flung himself on the stone pavement, and groaned +and sobbed convulsively. + +"Come," said Leon, stooping and lifting him up; "you understand all +this. Don't you go on blubbering in this fashion. I don't mind her and +_you_ mustn't. Come, you tell her, for she'll keep yelling after +you all night till you do." + +Lieutenant Dudleigh rose at this, and leaned heavily upon Leon's arm. + +"You were not--married--to--to--me," said he at last. + +"What! Then you too were false all along!" said Edith, in a voice that +seemed to come from a broken heart. + +The false friend made no reply. + +"Well, Mrs. Dudleigh," said Leon, coolly, "for your information I will +simply state that the--ahem--lieutenant here is my very particular +friend--in fact, my most intimate and most valued friend--and in his +tender affection for me he undertook this little affair at my +instigation. It's all my act, all through, every bit of it, but the +carrying out of the details was--ahem--his. The marriage, however, is +perfectly valid. The banns were published all right. So you may feel +quite at ease." + +"Oh," cried Edith, "how basely, how terribly, I have been deceived! And +it is all lies! It was all lies, lies, lies from the beginning!" + +Suddenly a fierce thrill of indignation flashed through her. She started +to her feet. + +"It is all a lie from beginning to end!" she exclaimed, in a voice which +was totally changed from that wail of despair which had been heard once +before. It was a firm, proud, stern voice. She had fallen back upon her +own lofty soul, and had sought refuge in that resolute nature of hers +which had sustained her before this in other dire emergencies. "Yes," +she said, sternly, "a lie; and this mock-marriage is a lie. Villains, +stand off. I am going home." + +"Not without me," said Leon, who for a moment stood silent, amazed at +the change in Edith's voice and manner. "You must not leave your +husband." + +"You shall not come to Dalton Hall," said Edith. + +"I shall not? Who can keep me out?" + +"Wiggins," said Edith. "I will ask his protection against you." + +"Wiggins!" sneered Leon. "Let him try it if he dares." + +"Do not interfere with me," said Edith, "nor touch me." + +"You shall not go without me." + +"I shall go, and alone." + +"You shall not." + +Edith at once walked to the door. Just as she reached it Leon seized her +arm. She struggled for a moment to get free, but in vain. + +"I know," said she, bitterly, "what a coward you are. This is not the +first time that you have laid hands on me. Let me go now, or you shall +repent." + +"Not the first time, and it won't be the last time!" cried Leon, with an +oath. + +"Let me go," cried Edith, in a fierce voice, "or I will stab you to the +heart!" + +As she said this she raised her right hand swiftly and menacingly, and +by the dim light of the doorway Leon plainly saw a long keen dagger. In +an instant he recoiled from the sight, and dropping her arm, he started +back. + +"Curse you!" he cried, in an excited voice; "who wants to touch you! It +isn't you I've married, but the Hall!" + +"Leon," cried Lieutenant Dudleigh, "I will allow no violence. If there +is any more, I will betray you." + +"You!" cried Leon, with a bitter sneer. "Pooh, you dare not." + +"I dare." + +"You will betray yourself, then." + +"I don't care. After what I've suffered for you these two days past, and +especially this night, I have but little care left about myself." + +"But won't you get your reward, curse it +all!" + +"There can be no reward for me now, after this," said the other, in a +mournful voice. + +"Is that the way you talk to _me_!" said Leon, in a tone of +surprise. + +"Miss Dalton has been wronged enough," said the other. "If you dare to +annoy her further, or to harm a hair of her head, I solemnly declare +that I will turn against you." + +"You!" exclaimed Leon. + +"Yes, I." + +"Why, you're as bad as I am--in fact, worse." + +"Well, at any rate, it shall go no further. That I am resolved on." + +"Look out," cried Leon; "don't tempt me too far. I'll remember this, by +Heaven! I'll not forget that you have threatened to betray me." + +"I don't care. You are a coward, Leon, and you know it. You are afraid +of that brave girl. Miss Dalton can take care of herself." + +"Miss Dalton! Pooh!--Mrs. Dudleigh, you mean." + +"Leon, you drive me to frenzy," cried Lieutenant Dudleigh, in a wild, +impatient voice. + +"And you--what are you!" cried Leon, morosely. "Are you not always +tormenting me? Do you think that I'm going to stand you and your whims +forever? Look out! This is more of a marriage than you think." + +"Marriage!" cried the other, in a voice of scorn. + +"Never mind. I'll go with my wife," said Leon. + +Edith had waited a few moments as this altercation arose, half hoping +that in the quarrel between these two something might escape them which +could give her some ray of hope, but she heard nothing of that kind. +Yet as she listened to the voices of the two, contrasting so strangely +in their tones, and to their language, which was so very peculiar, a +strange suspicion came to her mind. + +Then she hurried away back to the Hall. + +"I'll go with my wife," said Leon. + +"Coward and villain!" cried his companion. "Miss Dalton has a dagger. +You're afraid of her. I'll go too, so that you may not annoy her." + +Edith hurried away, and the others followed for a short distance, but +she soon left them behind. She reached the little door at the east end. +She passed through, and bolted it on the inner side. She hurried up to +her rooms, and on reaching them fell fainting to the floor. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +THE WIFE OF LEON DUDLEIGH. + +Sickness and delirium came mercifully to Edith; for if health had +continued, the sanity of the body would have been purchased at the +expense of that of the mind. Mrs. Dunbar nursed her most tenderly and +assiduously. A doctor attended her. For long weeks she lay in a +brain-fever, between life and death. In the delirium that disturbed her +brain, her mind wandered back to the happy days at Plympton Terrace. +Once more she played about the beautiful shores of Derwentwater; once +more she rambled with her school-mates under the lofty trees, or rode +along through winding avenues. At time, however, her thoughts reverted +to the later events of her life; and once or twice to that time of +horror in the chapel. + +The doctor came and went, and satisfied himself with seeing after the +things that conduced to the recovery of his patient. He was from London, +and had been sent for by Wiggins, who had no confidence in the local +physicians. At length the disease was quelled, and after nearly two +months Edith began to be conscious of her situation. She came back to +sensibility with feelings of despair, and her deep agitation of soul +retarded her recovery very greatly; for her thoughts were fierce and +indignant, and she occupied herself, as soon as she could think, with +incessant plans for escape. At last she resolved to tell the doctor all. +One day when he came she began, but, unfortunately for her, before she +had spoken a dozen words she became so excited she almost fainted. +Thereupon the doctor very properly forbade her talking about any of her +affairs whatever until she was better. "Your friends," said he, "have +cautioned me against this, and I have two things to regard--their wishes +and your recovery." Once or twice after this Edith tried to speak about +her situation, but the doctor promptly checked her. Soon after he ceased +his visits. + +In spite of all drawbacks, however, she gradually recovered, and at last +became able to move about the room. She might even have gone out if she +had wished, but she did not feel inclined. + +One day, while looking over some of her books which were lying on her +table, she found a newspaper folded inside one of them. She took it and +opened it carelessly, wondering what might be going on in that outside +world of which she had known so little for so long a time. A mark along +the margin attracted her attention. It was near the marriage notices. +She looked there, and saw the following: + +"On the 12th instant, at the Dalton family chapel, by the Rev. John +Mann, of Dalton, Captain Leon Dudleigh, to Edith, only daughter of the +late Frederick Dalton, Enquire, of Dalton Hall." + +This paper was dated November 20, 1840. This was, as she knew, February +26, 1841. + +The horror that passed through her at the sight of this was only +inferior to that which she had felt on the eventful evening itself. +Hitherto in all her gloom and grief she had regarded it as a mere +mockery--a brutal kind of practical joke, devised out of pure malignity, +and perhaps instigated or connived at by Wiggins. She had never cared to +think much about it. But now, on being thus confronted with a formal +notice in a public newspaper, the whole affair suddenly assumed a new +character--a character which was at once terrible in itself, and +menacing to her whole future. This formal notice seemed to her like the +seal of the law on that most miserable affair; and she asked herself in +dismay if such a ceremony could be held as binding. + +She had thought much already over one thing which had been revealed on +that eventful evening. The name Mowbray was an assumed one. The villain +who had taken it now called himself Leon Dudleigh. Under that name he +married her, and under that name his marriage was published. His friend +and her betrayer--that most miserable scoundrel who had called himself +Lieutenant Dudleigh--had gained her consent to this marriage for the +express purpose of betraying her into the hands of her worst enemy. His +name might or might not be Dudleigh, but she now saw that the true name +of the other must be Dudleigh, and that Mowbray had been assumed for +some other purpose. But how he came by such a name she could not tell. +She had no knowledge whatever of Sir Lionel; and whether Leon was any +relation to him or not she was totally ignorant. + +This gave a new and most painful turn to all her thoughts, and she began +to feel anxious to know what had occurred since that evening. +Accordingly, on Mrs. Dunbar's return to her room, she began to question +her. Thus far she had said but little to this woman, whom for so long a +time she had regarded with suspicion and aversion. Mrs. Dunbar's long +and anxious care of her, her constant watchfulness, her eager inquiries +after her health--all availed nothing, since all seemed to be nothing +more than the selfish anxiety of a jailer about the health of a prisoner +whose life it may be his interest to guard. + +"Who sent this?" asked Edith, sternly, pointing to the paper. + +Mrs. Dunbar hesitated, and after one hasty glance at Edith her eyes +sought the floor. + +"The captain," said she at length. + +"The captain?--what captain?" asked Edith. + +"Captain--Dudleigh," said Mrs. Dunbar, with the same hesitation. + +Edith paused. This confirmed her suspicions as to his true name. "Where +is he now?" she asked at length. + +"I do not know," said Mrs. Dunbar, "where he is--just now." + +"Has he ever been here?" asked Edith, after another pause. + +"Ever been here!" repeated Mrs. Dunbar, looking again at Edith with +something like surprise. "Why, he lives here--now. I thought you knew +that." + +"Lives here!" exclaimed Edith. + +"Yes." + +Edith was silent. This was very unpleasant intelligence. Evidently this +Leon Dudleigh and Wiggins were partners in this horrible matter. + +"How does he happen to live here?" she asked at length, anxious to +discover, if possible, his purpose. + +Mrs. Dunbar again hesitated. Edith had to repeat her question, and even +then her answer was given with evident reluctance. + +"He says that you--I mean that he--is your--that is, that he is--is +master," said Mrs. Dunbar, in a hesitating and confused way. + +"Master!" repeated Edith. + +"He says that he is your--your--" Mrs. Dunbar hesitated and looked +anxiously at Edith. + +"Well, what does he say?" asked Edith, impatiently. "He says that he is +my--what?" + +"Your--your husband," said Mrs. Dunbar, with a great effort. + +At this Edith stared at her for a moment, and then covered her face with +her hands, while a shudder passed through her. This plain statement of +the case from one of her jailers made her situation seem worse than +ever. + +"He came here," continued Mrs. Dunbar, in a low tone, "the day after +your illness. He brought his horse and dog, and some--things." + +Edith looked up with a face of agony. + +"He said," continued Mrs. Dunbar, "that you were--married--to--him; that +you were now his--his wife, and that he intended to live at the Hall." + +"Is that other one here too?" asked Edith, after a long silence. + +"What other one?" + +"The smaller villain--the one that used to call himself Lieutenant +Dudleigh." + +Mrs. Dunbar shook her head. + +"Do you know the real name of that person?" + +"No." + +Edith now said nothing for a long time; and as she sat there, buried in +her own miserable thoughts, Mrs. Dunbar looked at her with a face full +of sad and earnest sympathy--a face which had a certain longing, wistful +expression, as though she yearned over this stricken heart, and longed +to offer some consolation. But Edith, even if she had been willing to +receive any expressions of sympathy from one like Mrs. Dunbar, whom she +regarded as a miserable tool of her oppressor, or a base ally, was too +far down in the depths of her own profound affliction to be capable of +consolation. Bad enough it was already, when she had to look back over +so long a course of deceit and betrayal at the hands of one whom she had +regarded as her best friend; but now to find that all this treachery had +culminated in a horror like this, that she was claimed and proclaimed by +an outrageous villain as his wife--this was beyond all endurance. The +blackness of that perfidy, and the terror of her memories, which till +now had wrung her heart, fled away, and gave place to the most +passionate indignation. + +And now, at the impulse of these more fervid feelings, her whole +outraged nature underwent a change. Till now she had felt most strongly +the emotions of grief and melancholy; now, however, these passed away, +and were succeeded by an intensity of hate, a vehemence of wrath, and a +hot glow of indignant passion that swept away all other feelings. All +the pride of her haughty spirit was roused; her soul became instinct +with a desperate resolve; and mingling with these feelings there was a +scorn for her enemies as beings of a baser nature, and a stubborn +determination to fight them all till the bitter end. + +All this change was manifest in her look and tone as she again addressed +Mrs. Dunbar. + +"You have all mistaken me," said she, with bitter hostility; "you have +imagined that you had to deal with some silly child. But this shall do +none of you any good. You may kill me among you, but I am not afraid to +die. Death itself will be welcome rather than submission to that foul +miscreant, that vulgar coward, who takes advantage of a contemptible +trick, and pretends that there was a marriage. I say this to you--that I +defy him and all of you, and will defy you all--yes, to the bitter end; +and you may go and tell this to your wretched confederates." + +As Edith said this, Mrs. Dunbar looked at her; and if there could have +appeared upon that face the signs of a wounded heart--a heart cut and +stung to its inmost fibre--the face that confronted Edith showed all +this at that moment. + +"Confederates!" she repeated. + +"Yes, you and Wiggins and this villain who, you say, is now living +here." + +"What, Leon!" + +"Leon! Is that his name! Leon Dudleigh! Well, whatever name he chooses +to bear, it is all the same; though it seems strange that he should +adopt a stainless name like that of Dudleigh." + +"Yes, that is his name," said Mrs. Dunbar, wearily. + +"Till he assumes some other," said Edith. "But they are all assumed +names," she continued, bitterly--"Mowbray and Dudleigh and Dunbar also, +no doubt. Why you should call yourself Dunbar I can't imagine. You seem +to me to be Mrs. Wiggins. Wiggins at least can not be an assumed name." + +At these words, which were spoken on the spur of the moment, out of mere +hostility toward Mrs. Dunbar, and the desire to wound her, the latter +recoiled as though from some sudden blow, and looked at Edith with awful +eyes. + +"You are terrible," she said, in a low voice--"you are terrible. You can +not imagine what horrors you give expression to." + +To this Edith paid no attention. It sounded old. It was like what +Wiggins had frequently said to her. + +"I can not imagine," she continued, "any human being so utterly +bad-hearted, so altogether vile and corrupt, as this man who now calls +himself Leon Dudleigh. In pure fiendish malignity, and in all those +qualities which are abhorrent and shameful, he surpasses even, that +arch-villain Wiggins himself." + +"Stop, stop!" cried Mrs. Dunbar. "I can not bear this. You must not talk +so. How do you know! You know nothing about Leon. Oh, how you wrong him! +Leon has had bad associates, but he himself is not bad. After all, Leon +has naturally a noble heart. He was a brave, high-minded boy. Oh, if +you could but know what he once was. You wrong Leon. You wrong him most +deeply. Oh, how deeply you wrong him!" + +Mrs. Dunbar had said all this in a kind of feverish agitation, speaking +quickly and vehemently. Never before had Edith seen any thing +approaching to excitement in this strong-hearted, vigilant-eyed, +self-contained woman, and the sight of such emotion amazed her. But for +this woman and her feelings she cared nothing whatever; and so in the +midst of her words she waved her hand and interrupted her. + +"I'm tired," she said; "I can not stand any more excitement just now. I +wish to be alone." + +At this. Mrs. Dunbar arose and walked wearily out of the room. + +One thing at least Edith considered as quite evident front Mrs. Dunbar's +agitation and eager championship of "Leon," and that was that this Leon +had all along been a confederate of Wiggins and this woman, and that the +so-called "Lieutenant Dudleigh" had been one of the same band of +conspirators. It seemed evident now to her that the whole plot had been +contrived among them. Perhaps Wiggins was to get one half of the estate, +and this Leon Dudleigh the other half. + +Still she did not feel altogether sure, and in order to ascertain as +near as possible the truth as to her present position and prospects, she +determined to see Wiggins himself. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +JAILER AND CAPTIVE. + +On the following day Edith felt stronger, and calling Mrs. Dunbar, she +sent her to Wiggins with a request that the latter should meet her in +the drawing-room. She then walked through the long hall on her way down +stairs. Every thing looked as it did before her illness, except that one +change had taken place which arrested her attention the moment she +entered the drawing-room. + +Over the chimney-piece a portrait had been hung--a portrait in a large +gilt frame, which looked as though it had been painted but recently. It +was a portrait of Leon Dudleigh. On catching sight of this she felt as +if she had been rooted to the spot. She looked at it for a short time +with compressed lips, frowning brow, and clinched hands after which she +walked away and flung herself into a chair. + +Wiggins was evidently in no hurry, for it was more than half an hour +before he made his appearance. Edith sat in her chair, waiting for his +approach. The traces of her recent illness were very visible in the +pallor of her face, and in her thin, transparent hands. Her large eyes +seemed larger than ever, as they glowed luminously from their cavernous +depths, with a darker hue around each, as is often seen in cases of +sickness or debility, while upon her face there was an expression of +profound sadness that seemed fixed and unalterable. + +But in the tone with which she addressed Wiggins there was nothing like +sadness. It was proud, cold, stern, and full of bitterest hostility. + +"I have sent for you," she began, "because you, Wiggins, are concerned +as much as I myself am in the issue of this business about which I am +going to speak. I have suffered a very gross outrage, but I still have +confidence both in a just Heaven and in the laws of the land. This +ruffian, who now it seems calls himself Leon Dudleigh--your +confederate--has, with your assistance, cheated me into taking part in a +ceremony which he calls a marriage. What you propose to gain for +yourself by this I can not imagine; for it seems to me that it would +have been rather for your advantage to remain the sole master of your +ward than to help some one else to share your authority. But for your +purposes I care nothing--the evil is done. Yet if this Leon Dudleigh or +you think that I will sit tamely down under such an intolerable wrong, +you are miserably mistaken. Sooner or later I shall be avenged. Sooner +or later I shall gain my freedom, and then my turn shall come. I wish +you to see that there is danger before you; and I wish you also to +understand that it is for your interest to be my sole master, as you +were before. I have sent for you, then, to ask you, Wiggins, to expel +this man Leon Dudleigh from the house. Be my guardian again, and I will +be your ward. More: I agree to remain here in a state of passive +endurance for a reasonable time--one or two years, for instance; and I +promise during that time to make no complaint. Do this--drive this man +away--and you shall have no reason to regret it. On the other hand; +remember there is an alternative. Villain though this man is, I may come +to terms with him, and buy my liberty from him by giving him half of the +estate, or even the whole of it. In that case it seems to me that you +would lose every thing, for Leon Dudleigh is as great a villain as +yourself." + +As Edith spoke, Wiggins listened most attentively. He had seated +himself not far from her, and after one look at her had fixed his eyes +on the floor. He waited patiently until she had said all she wished to +say. Edith herself had not hoped to gain much by this interview, but +she hoped at least to be able to discover something concerning the +nature of the partnership which she supposed to exist among her enemies, +and something perhaps about their plans. The averted face of Wiggins +seemed to her the attitude of conscious guilt; but she felt a little +puzzled at signs of emotion which he exhibited, and which seemed hardly +the result of conscious guilt. Once or twice a perceptible shudder +passed through his frame; his bent head bowed lower; he covered his face +with his hands; and at her last words there came from him a low moan +that seemed to indicate suffering. + +"It's his acting," she thought. "I wonder what his next pretense will +be?" + +Wiggins sat for some minutes without saying a word. When at length he +raised his head he did not look at Edith, but fastened his eyes on +vacancy, and went on to speak in a low voice. + +"Your remarks," said he, "are all based on a misconception. This man is +no confederate of mine. I have no confederate. I--I work out my +purpose--by myself." + +"I'm sure I wish that I could believe this," said Edith; "but +unfortunately Mrs. Dunbar espouses his cause with so much warmth and +enthusiasm that I am forced to conclude that this Leon Dudleigh must be +a very highly valued or very valuable friend to both of you." + +"In this case," said Wiggins, "Mrs. Dunbar and I have different +feelings." + +Instead of feeling gratified at this disclaimer of any connection with +Leon Dudleigh, Edith felt dissatisfied, and somewhat disconcerted. It +seemed to her that Wiggins was trying to baffle her and throw her off +the right track. She had hoped that by speaking out frankly her whole +mind she might induce him to come to some agreement with her; but by his +answers she saw that he was not in the least degree affected by her +warnings, or her threats, or her offers. + +"This Leon Dudleigh," said she, "has all along acted sufficiently like a +confederate of yours to make me think that he is one." + +"How?" + +"By coming into these grounds at all times; by having privileges equal +in all respects to your own; by handing over those privileges to his spy +and emissary--the one who took the name of Lieutenant Dudleigh. Surely +all this is enough to make me think that he must be your confederate." + +"You are altogether mistaken," said Wiggins, quietly. + +"He told some idle story once," said Edith, anxious to draw more out of +Wiggins than these short answers, "about some power which he had over +you. He asserted that you were afraid of him. He said that you dared not +keep him out of the park. He said that his power over you arose from his +knowledge of certain past crimes of yours." + +"When he said that," remarked Wiggins, "he said what was false." + +"Why, then, did you allow him to come here?" + +"I did so for reasons that I do not feel at liberty to explain--just +now. I will only say that the reasons were altogether different from +those which he stated." + +Of this Edith did not believe a word; yet she felt completely baffled, +and did not know what to say to this man, who thus met all her +assertions with denials, and spoke in the calm, lofty tone of conscious +truth. But this, she thought, was only his "acting." + +"I only hope that this is so," said she; "but supposing that it is so, I +should like very much to know what you feel disposed to do. The claim +that this man asserts over me is utterly false. It is a mockery. If he +is really not your confederate, you will see, I am sure, that it is not +for your own interest to sustain him in his attempt to maintain his +claim. I wish, therefore, to know exactly what it is that you feel +willing to do." + +"Your situation," said Wiggins, "is a most unhappy one. I will do all +that I can to prevent it from becoming more so. If this man annoys you, +I will defend you against him, whatever it may cost." + +This sounded well; yet still Edith was not satisfied. It seemed to her +too much like an empty promise which he had no idea of fulfilling. + +"How will you defend me?" she asked. "This man lives here now. He +asserts that he has the right to do so. He has published what he calls +my marriage to him in the newspapers. He calls himself my husband. All +this is a wrong and an insult to me. His presence here is a perpetual +menace. When he is absent he leaves a reminder of himself," she +continued, in a more bitter tone, glancing toward the portrait. "Now I +wish to know what you will do. Will you prevent him from coming here? +Will you send him away, either in your name or in mine? You are easily +able to keep out my friends; will you keep out my enemies?" + +"This man," said Wiggins, "shall soon give you no more trouble." + +"Soon--what do you mean by soon?" asked Edith, impatiently. + +"As soon as my plans will allow me to proceed to extremities with him." + +"Your plans!" repeated Edith. "You are always bringing up your plans. +Whatever is concerned, you plead your plans. They form a sufficient +excuse for you to refuse the commonest justice. And yet what I ask is +certainly for your own interests." + +"If you knew me better," said Wiggins, "you would not appeal to my +interests. I have not generally fashioned my life with regard to my own +advantage. Some day you will see this. You, at least, should be the last +one to complain of my plans, since they refer exclusively to the +vindication of your injured father." + +"So you have said before," said Edith, coldly. "Those plans must be very +convenient, since you use them to excuse every possible act of yours." + +"You will not have to wait long now," said Wiggins, in a weary voice, as +though this interview was too much for his endurance--"not very long. I +have heard to-day of something which is very favorable. Since the trial +certain documents and other articles have been kept by the authorities, +and an application has been made for these, with a view to the +establishment of your father's innocence. I have recently heard that the +application is about to be granted." + +"You always answer my appeals for common justice," said Edith, with +unchanged coldness, "by some reference to my father. It seems to me +that if you had wished to vindicate his innocence, it would have been +better to do so while he was alive. If you had done so, it might have +been better for yourself in the end. But now these allusions are idle +and worse than useless. They have no effect on me whatever. I value them +at what they are worth." + +With these words Edith rose and left the room. She returned to her own +apartments with a feeling of profound dejection and disappointment. Of +Wiggins she could make nothing. He promised, but his promises were too +vague to afford satisfaction. + +Leon Dudleigh was away now, but would probably be back before long. As +she had failed with Wiggins, only one thing remained, and that was to +see Leon. She was resolved to meet him at once on his arrival, and +fight out once for all that battle which was inevitable between herself +and him. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +THE IRREPRESSIBLE STRUGGLE. + +About a month passed away, during which time Edith, in spite of her +troubles, grew stronger every day. Youth and a good, constitution were +on her side, and enabled her to rally rapidly from the prostration to +which she had been subjected. + +At length one morning she learned that Leon had arrived at the Hall. +This news gave her great satisfaction, for she had been waiting long, +and felt anxious to see him face to face, to tell him her own mind, and +gather from him, if possible, what his intentions were. An interview +with him under such peculiar circumstances might have been painful had +she been less courageous or less self-possessed; but to one with such +lofty pride as hers, and filled as she was with such scorn of Leon, and +convinced as she was that he was at heart an arrant coward, such an +interview had nothing in it to deter her. Suspense was worse. She +wished to meet that man. + +She sent word to him that she wished to see him, after which she went +down to the drawing-room and waited. Leon certainly showed no haste, for +it was as much as an hour before he made his appearance. On entering he +assumed that languid air which he had adopted on some of his former +visits. He looked carelessly at her, and then threw himself into a +chair. + +"Really, Mrs. Dudleigh," said he, "this is an unexpected pleasure. 'Pon +my life, I had no idea that you would volunteer to do me so much honor!" + +"I am not Mrs. Dudleigh," said Edith, "as you very well know. I am Miss +Dalton, and if you expect me to have any thing to say to you, you must +call me by my proper name. You will suffer dearly enough yet for your +crimes, and have no need to add to them." + +"Now, my dear," said Leon, "that is kind and wife-like, and all that. It +reminds me of the way in which wives sometimes speak in the plays." + +"Speak to me as Miss Dalton, or you shall not speak to me at all." + +"It's quite evident," said Leon, with a sneer, "that you don't know into +whose hands you've fallen." + +"On the contrary," said Edith, contemptuously, "it has been my fortune, +or my misfortune, to understand from the first both you and Wiggins." + +Leon gave a light laugh. + +"Your temper," said he, "has not improved much, at any rate. That's +quite evident. You have always shown a very peculiar idea of the way in +which a lady should speak to a gentleman." + +"One would suppose by that," said Edith, "that you actually meant to +hint that you considered yourself a gentleman." + +"So I am," said Leon, haughtily. + +"As you have no particular birth or family," said Edith, in her most +insolent tone, "I suppose you must rest your claims to be a gentleman +altogether on your good manners and high-toned character." + +"Birth and family!" exclaimed Leon, excitedly, "what do you know about +them! You don't know what you're talking about." + +"I know nothing about you, certainly," said Edith. "I suppose you are +some mere adventurer." + +Leon looked at her for a moment with a glance of intense rage; and as +she calmly returned his gaze, she noticed that peculiarity of his +frowning brow a red spot in the middle, with deep lines. + +"You surely in your wildest dreams," said she, "never supposed that I +took you for a gentleman." + +"Let me tell you," cried Leon, stammering in his passion "let me tell +you that I associate with the proudest in the land." + +"I know that," replied Edith, quietly. "Am _I_ not here! But you +are only tolerated." + +"Miss Dalton," cried Leon, "you shall suffer for this." + +"Thank you," said Edith: "for once in your life you have spoken to me +without insulting me. You have called me by my right name. I could +smile at your threat under any circumstances, but now I can forgive it." + +"It seems to me," growled Leon, "that you are riding the high horse +somewhat, and that this is a rather queer tone for you to assume toward +me." + +"I always assume a high tone toward low people." + +"Low people! What do you mean!" cried Leon, his face purple with rage. + +"I really don't know any name better than that for you and your +friends." + +"The name of Dudleigh," said Leon, "is one of the proudest in the land." + +[Illustration: SHE CONFRONTED HIM WITH A COLD, STONY GLARE.] + +"I swear by all that's holy that you are really my wife. The marriage +was a valid one. No law can break it. The banns were published in the +village church. All the villagers heard them. Wiggins kept himself shut +up so that he knew nothing about it. The clergyman is the vicar of +Dalton--the Rev. Mr. Munn. It has been, published in the papers. In the +eye of the law you are no longer Miss Dalton. you are Mrs. Leon +Dudleigh. You are my wife!" + +At these words, in spite of Edith's pride and courage, there came over +her a dark fear that all this might indeed be as he said. The mention +of the published banns disturbed her, and shook that proud and obstinate +conviction which she had thus far entertained that the scene in the +chapel was only a brutal practical joke. It might be far more. It might +not be a mockery after all. It might be good in the eye of the +law--that law whose injustice had been shown to her in the terrible +experience of her father; and if this were so, what then? + +A pang of anguish shot through her heart as this terrific thought +occurred. But the pang passed away, and with it the terror passed also. +Once more she called to her aid that stubborn Dalton fortitude and +Dalton pride which had thus far so well sustained her. + +"_Your_ wife!" she exclaimed, with a loathing and a scorn in her +face and in her voice that words could not express, at the sight of +which even Leon, with all his insolence, was cowed--"_your_ wife! +Do you think you can affect me by lies like these?" + +"Lies!" repeated Leon--"it's the truth. You are my wife, and you must +sign these papers." + +"I don't think so," said Edith, resuming her former coolness. + +"Do you dare to refuse me this?" + +"I don't see any daring about it. Of course I refuse." + +"Sign them!" roared Leon, with an oath. + +Edith smiled lightly and turned away. + +Leon rushed toward her with a menacing gesture. But Edith was aware of +this. In an instant she turned, snatched a dagger from her breast which +had been concealed there, and confronted him with a cold, stony glare. + +"I well know," said she, "what an utter coward you are. While I have +this you will not dare to touch me. It is better for you, on the whole, +just now, that you are a coward, for this dagger--which, by-the-way, I +always carry--is poisoned. It is an old family affair--and that shows +you one of the advantages of having a family--and so deadly is the +poison that a scratch would kill you. Yes, there is some advantage in +being a coward, for if you dared to touch me, I should strike you with +this as I would strike a mad dog!" + +Leon stood before her, a coward, as she knew and as she said, not daring +to come within reach of her terrible weapon, which she upheld with a +deadly purpose plainly visible in her eye. Yet it seemed as though, +with his great muscular power, he might easily have grasped that slender +arm and wrenched the dagger away. But this was a thing which he did not +dare to attempt; the risk was too great. He might have received a +scratch in the struggle with that young girl who confronted him so +steadily, and who, with all her fragile beauty, was so calm, so proud, +and so resolute. + +Edith waited for a few moments, and then walked quietly away, trusting +implicitly to Leon's cowardice, and without another word, or even +another look, she left the room and returned to her own apartments. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +A FIGHT IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP + +It will have been seen already that Leon had taken up his abode at +Dalton Hall immediately after that marriage ceremony as the husband of +Edith. Her illness had hitherto prevented him from having any +understanding with her, and his own affairs called him away before her +recovery. With Wiggins he remained on the same footing as before; nor +did he find himself able to alter that footing in the slightest degree. +Whatever Wiggins may have thought or felt on the subject of the +marriage, he revealed it to no one; and Leon found himself compelled to +wait for Edith's recovery before he could accomplish any thing definite +with regard to his own position. On his return, to Dalton Hall he +learned that she was convalescent, and he was much surprised at her +immediate request for an interview. + +With the result of that interview he had but little reason to be +satisfied. He felt disappointed, enraged, and humiliated. Edith had +been perfectly free from all fear of him. The young girl had shown +herself a virago. His insults she had returned with mocking sarcasms, +his threats she had treated with utter contempt, and finally she had +proved him to his own face to be a coward. Over the recollection of +that scene he could only gnash his teeth in fruitless rage. The more he +thought of that interview, the more bitter grew his mortification; and +at length he resolved to force matters to a climax at once by coming to +a distinct and final understanding with Wiggins himself. + +Leon had enjoyed the freedom of the house long enough to know where +Wiggins's room was, and into that room he intruded himself abruptly on +the following day. It was in this room that Wiggins spent the greater +part of his time, carrying on a vigorous though not very extensive +correspondence, and moving the wires of those plans at which he had +hinted to Edith. He was here now, and as Leon entered he looked up with +a silent stare. + +"I'll not stand this any longer," burst forth Leon, abruptly and +vehemently. "I'm in terrible difficulties. I've been waiting long +enough. You must side with me actively, for your assistance is +absolutely necessary to bring that mad girl to terms. I'm married to +her. She's my wife. I must have control of this place at once; and I'll +tolerate no farther opposition from her, or humbug from you. I've come +now to tell you this finally and peremptorily." + +"She is not your wife," said Wiggins, coldly. + +"She is." + +"It was a trick. The ceremony was a miserable sham." + +"It was no sham. It was done legally, and can not be undone." + +"Legally! Pooh! The whole thing was a farce. It's no marriage. +Legally! Why, what has that miserable affair to do with the law?" + +"What has it to do? It has every thing to do. The whole thing was done +in a perfectly legal manner. The banns were regularly published by the +vicar of Dalton in Dalton Church, and in that chapel Edith Dalton was +regularly and legally married to Leon Dudleigh by the Rev. Mr. Munn. +What more is wanting to make it legal? Go and ask Mr. Munn himself." + +"The banns!" exclaimed Wiggins. + +"Yes, the banns," said Leon. "You never heard of that, perhaps. If you +doubt me, go and ask Munn." + +"It was not you that she married!" cried Wiggins, after a pause, in +which he seemed struck rather painfully by Leon's last information. "It +was not you--it was that other one. He called himself Dudleigh--a +miserable assumed name!" + +"You know nothing about it," said Leon, "whether it was assumed or not. +And as to the marriage, it was to me. I held her hand; I put the ring +on her finger; she married me, and no other. But I'm not going to talk +about that. I've simply come here to insist on your active help. I +won't stand any more of this humbug. I've already told you that I know +you." + +Wiggins remained silent for some time. + +"So you did," said he at last, in a low voice; "but what of that?" + +"Why, only this: you had to let me do what I chose. And I intend to +keep a good hold of you yet, my fine fellow." + +Wiggins placed both his elbows on the table in front of him, and looked +fixedly at Leon for some time. + +"You did say once," said he, slowly, "that you knew me, and the +possibility that it might be true induced me to tolerate you here for +some time. I trusted to Miss Dalton's innate good sense to save her from +any danger from one like you; but it appears that I was mistaken. At the +present moment, however, I may as well inform you that you have not the +slightest idea who I am, and more than this, that I have not the +slightest objection to tell you." + +"Pooh!" said Leon, with ill-disguised uneasiness, "it's all very well +for you to take that tone, but it won't do with me. I know who you are." + +"Who am I?" + +"Oh, I know." + +"Who? who? Say it! If you did know, you would not imagine that you had +any power over me. Your power is a dream, and your knowledge of me is a +sham. Who am I?" + +"Why," said Leon, with still greater uneasiness and uncertainty in his +face and voice, "you are not John Wiggins." + +"Who do you think I am?" asked Wiggins. + +"Who? who? Why, you came from Australia." + +"Well, what of that?" + +"Well, you are some convict who got acquainted with Dalton out there, +and have come back here to try to get control of these estates." + +"But how could I do that? If this were so, do you suppose that Wiggins +of Liverpool would allow it?" + +"Oh, he has a share in the business. He goes halves with you, perhaps." + +"If he wanted any shares at all in such a transaction, he might have +all, and therefore he would be a fool to take half. Your theory, I +infer, is somewhat lame. And what of Mrs. Dunbar? Is she an Australian +convict too?" + +"Mrs. Dunbar?--who is she? What! that crazy housekeeper? She looks as +though she may have just been released from some lunatic asylum." + +Wiggins made no immediate reply, and sat for a few moments in thought. +Then he looked at Leon and said: + +"Well, you have got hold of a part of the truth--just enough to mislead +you. It is true that I have been in Australia, though why you should +suppose that I was a convict I do not know. More: I went out there on +account of Dalton, and for no other reason. While there I saw much of +him, and gained his whole confidence. He told me his whole story +unreservedly. He believed me to be his friend. He confided every thing +to me. You must have heard of his trial, and his strange persistence in +refusing to say who the guilty party was." + +"Oh yes," said Leon, with a laugh. "A good idea that, when the guilty +party was himself." + +"It was not himself," said Wiggins, "and before long the world shall +know who it was, for that is the one business of my life since my +return, to which I have sacrificed all other concerns. In my attention +to this I have even neglected Miss Dalton." + +"She does not appear to think that you have neglected her," said Leon, +with a sneer. + +To this Wiggins paid no attention. + +"Dalton," said he, "told me all before he died. He thought of his +daughter, and though he had suffered himself, yet he thought on his +death-bed that it would be a sin to leave to her such a legacy of shame. +It was this that broke his obstinate silence, and made him tell his +secret to me. And here, Leon Dudleigh, is a thing in which you are +concerned. + +"I!" exclaimed Leon, in astonishment, not unmingled with alarm. + +"I will tell you presently. I will simply remark now that I am +following out his wishes, and am working for Miss Dalton, as he himself +would have worked, to redeem her name." + +"The name is hers no longer," said Leon. + +"She seems to give you a precious hard time of it too, I should say, and +does not altogether appreciate your self-denying and wonderfully +disinterested efforts." + +"I have not treated her with sufficient consideration," said Wiggins. "I +misunderstood her character. I began altogether wrong. I see now that +I ought to have given her more of my confidence, or, better yet, that I +ought not to have brought her here till the work was done. Well," he +added, with a sigh, "my chief consolation is that it will be all right +in the end." + +"This is all rubbish," said Leon. "You are not what you pretend to be. +You are not her guardian. You are an interloper and a swindler. You +shall remain here no longer. I am her husband, and I order you off the +premises at once." + +"You are not her husband, and I am her guardian," said Wiggins, calmly. +"I was appointed by her father on his death-bed." + +"I don't believe it. Besides, your name is not Wiggins at all." + +"How do you know? You know nothing." + +[Illustration: DOTARD! DO YOU TALK OF VENGEANCE?] + +"I know Wiggins." + +"Wiggins of Liverpool, perhaps, but there are more Wigginses in the +world than that." + +"A court of law will show that--" + +"You will not go to a court of law. That is my task. And mark me," +continued Wiggins, with thrilling emphasis, "when a court of law takes +up the subject of the Dalton estates or the Dalton name, then it will be +the turn for you and yours to tremble." + +"Tremble!" exclaimed Leon, scornfully. + +"Yes," repeated Wiggins. "Your father--" + +"Pooh!" said Leon. + +"When Dalton died," continued Wiggins, "he left his papers. Among them +was a letter of which he himself told me. If he had produced that +letter on his trial, he would have escaped, and the guilty man would +have been punished. The letter was written by the real forger. It +inclosed the forged check to Dalton, asking him to draw the money and +pay certain pressing debts. The writer of that letter was your own +father--Lionel Dudleigh!" + +"It's a lie!" cried Leon, starting up, with terrible excitement in his +face--an excitement, too, which was mingled with unspeakable dread. + +"It's true," said Wiggins, calmly, "and the letter can be proved." + +"It can not." + +"It can, and by the best of testimony." + +"I don't believe it." + +"Perhaps not; but there is something more. With the murder trial you +are no doubt familiar. In fact, I take it for granted that you are +familiar with Dalton's case _in all its bearings_," added Wiggins, +in a tone of deep meaning. "In that murder trial, then, you are aware +that a Maltese cross was found on the scene of murder, and created much +excitement. You know what part it had in the trial. I now inform you +that I have proof which can show beyond a doubt that this Maltese cross +was the property of your father--Lionel Dudleigh." + +"It's a lie--an infernal lie!" said Leon, in a hoarse voice. His +excitement had now become terrible. + +"It's true--all true," continued Wiggins. "It can all be proved by a +witness that can not be impeached. Yes, Leon Dudleigh, you yourself +would be forced to accept the testimony of that witness." + +"What witness?" said Leon, in a voice that was scarcely audible from +conflicting emotions. + +Wiggins looked at him earnestly, and then said, in a low, deep, solemn +voice, + +"Leon Dudleigh, that witness is _your mother!_" + +The other started as though he had been shot. + +"My mother!" he almost screamed--"my mother! why, she--she is +dead--dead long ago." + +"When did you find that out?" said Wiggins. + +"She's dead! she's dead!" repeated Leon, as though by assertion he could +make it true. + +"She is not dead," said Wiggins, in an awful voice, "though all these +years she has lived a living death. She is not dead. She is alive, and +she now stands ready, when the hour comes, though with an agonized +heart, to give that testimony which, years ago, she dared not and could +not give. She has allowed the innocent to suffer, and the guilty to go +free, but now she will do so no longer. The work upon which I have been +engaged is almost complete. The preparations are made, and this very day +I am going to Liverpool to perform the last acts that are necessary +toward vindicating the memory of Dalton, establishing his innocence, and +punishing the guilty. As for you, you can do nothing here, and I have +resolved to punish you for what you have done. I shall show you no +mercy. If you want to save yourself, leave the country, for otherwise I +swear you will never be safe from my vengeance." + +"Vengeance!" said Leon, in low, menacing tones. "Dotard! do _you_ +talk of vengeance? You do not understand the meaning of that word. Wait +till you see what I can do." + +And with these words he left the room. + +That evening Wiggins left for Liverpool. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +THE HUSBAND'S LAST APPEAL. + +Early on the following day Edith received a request from Leon for +another interview. This request was acceptable in every way, for the +last interview had been no more satisfactory to her than to him, and she +could not help hoping that something more definite might result from a +new one. She therefore went down, and found him already in the room. + +On this occasion Leon showed nothing of that languor which he had +previously affected. He appeared, on the contrary, uneasy, nervous, and +impatient. So abstracted was he by his own thoughts that he did not +notice her entrance. She sat down and waited for a little while, after +which she said, quietly, + +"Did you wish to see me, Captain--a--Dudleigh?" Leon started, then +frowned; then, after a little silence, he began abruptly: + +"You may deny it as much as you choose, but it's no use. You are +actually married to me. You are really and truly my wife, both in the +eyes of man and in the eyes of the law. From that marriage nothing can +ever deliver you but a divorce." + +"You are mistaken," said Edith, quietly. "Even if that miserable +performance should turn out to be a marriage--which is absurd--still +there is one other thing that can free me." + +"Ah?--and what may that be?" + +"Death!" said Edith, solemnly. + +Leon turned pale. "Is that a threat?" he asked at length, in a trembling +voice. "Whose death do you mean?" + +Edith made no reply. + +"Yes," said Leon, after a pause, going on with his former train of +thought, "at any rate you are my wife, and you can not help it. You may +deny it as much as you please, but that will not avail. In spite of +this, however, I do not molest you, although I might so easily do it. I +never trouble you with my presence. I am very forbearing. Few would do +as I do. Yet I have rights, and some of them, at least, I am determined +to assert. Now, on the whole, it is well for you--and you ought to see +it--that you have one here who occupies the peculiar position toward you +which I do. If it were not for me you would be altogether in the power +of Wiggins. He is your guardian or your jailer, whichever you choose to +call him. He could shut you up in the vaults of Dalton Hall if he +chose--and he probably will do that very thing before long--for who is +there to prevent him? I am the only one who can stand between you and +him. I am your only hope. You do not know who and what this man is. You +think you know him, but you don't. You think of him as a villain and a +tyrant. Let me tell you that in your bitterest hate of that man you have +never begun to conceive the fraction of his villainy. Let me tell you +that he is one who passes your comprehension. Let me tell you that, +however much you may hate me, if I were to tell you what Wiggins is, the +feelings that you have toward me would be almost affection, compared to +those which you would have toward him." + +Leon paused. He had spoken most earnestly and vehemently; but upon Edith +these words produced no effect. She believed that this was a last effort +to work upon her feelings by exciting her fears of Wiggins. She did not +believe him capable of speaking the truth to her, and thus his words +produced no result. + +"If you had not been married to me when you were," continued Leon, "I +solemnly assure you that by this time you would have been where hope +could never reach you." + +"Well, really," said Edith, "Captain--a--Dudleigh, all this is +excessively childish. By such an absurd preamble as this you, of +course, must mean something. All this, however, can have no possible +effect on me, for the simple reason that I consider it spoken for +effect. I hope, therefore, that you will be kind enough to come at once +to business, and say precisely what it is that you want of me." + +"It is no absurd preamble," said Leon, gloomily. "It is not nonsense, as +I could soon show you. There is no human being who has done so much +wrong to you and yours as this Wiggins, yet you quietly allow him to be +your guardian." + +"I?" said Edith. "I allow him? Let me be free, and then you will see +how long I allow him." + +"But I mean here--in Dalton Hall." + +"I do not allow him any thing. I am simply a prisoner. He is my jailer, +and keeps me here." + +"You need not be so." + +"Pray how can I escape?" + +"By siding with me." + +"With you?" asked Edith--"and what then?" + +"Well, if you side with me I will drive him out." + +"You seem incapable of understanding," said Edith, "that of the two, you +yourself, both by nature and by position, are by far the more abhorrent +to me. Side with you! And is this the proposal you have to make?" + +"I tell you that you are in no danger from me, and that you are from +him." + +"Really, as far as danger is concerned, my prospects with Wiggins are +far preferable to my prospects with you." + +"But you don't know him. He has done terrible things--deeds of horror." + +"And you--what have you done? But perhaps I have mistaken you. When you +ask me to side with you, you may perhaps mean that I shall be at +liberty, and that when you expel Wiggins you will allow me to go also." + +At this Leon looked down in evident embarrassment. + +"Well--not--yet," he said, slowly. "In time, of course; but it can not +all be done just at once, you know." + +"What can not be done at once?" + +"Your--your freedom." + +"Why not?" + +"Well, there are--a--certain difficulties in the way." + +"Then what can I gain by siding with you? Why should I cast off Wiggins, +and take a new jailer who has done to me a wrong far more foul and far +more intolerable than any that Wiggins ever attempted?" + +"But you mistake me. I intend to let you go free, of course--that is, in +time." + +"In time!" + +"Yes; every thing can not be done in a moment." + +"This is mere childishness. You are trifling. I am astonished that you +should speak in this way, after what you know of me." + +"But I tell you I will set you free--only I can not do that until I get +what I want." + +"And what is it that you want?" + +"Why, what I married you for." + +"What is that?" + +"Money," said Leon, abruptly. + +"Money," repeated Edith, in surprise. + +"Yes, money," said Leon, harshly. + +"You must really apply to Wiggins, then," said she, carelessly. + +"No; you yourself are the only one to whom I must apply." + +"To me? I have no money whatever. It is of no use for me to inform you +that Wiggins is all-powerful here. I thought by your professed knowledge +of his wonderful secrets that you had some great power over him, and +could get from him whatever you want." + +"Never mind what you thought," growled Leon. "I come to you, and you +only, and I ask you for money." + +"How can _I_ give it?" + +"By signing your name to a paper, a simple paper, which I can use. Your +signature is necessary to effect what I wish." + +"My signature? Ah! And what possible inducement can you offer me for my +signature?" + +"Why, what you most desire." + +"What? My freedom?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. Will you drive me to the village at once?" + +Leon hesitated. + +"Well, not just at once, you know. You must remain here a short time, +and go through certain formalities and routine work, and attest certain +things before a lawyer." + +Edith smiled. + +"What a simpleton you must still think me! How easy you must think it is +to impose upon me! Perhaps you think me so credulous, or so much in the +habit of confiding in you, that no such thing as doubt ever enters my +mind." + +Leon glared angrily at her. + +"I tell you I must have it," he cried, in excited tones. "I must have +it--by fair means or foul." + +"But of the two ways I _presume_ you have a preference for the +latter," said Edith. + +"I tell you I must and will have it," reiterated Leon. + +"I don't see how you can get my signature very well--unless you forge +it; but then I suppose that will not stand in your way." + +"Now by all that is most holy," cried Leon, vehemently, "you make me +hate you even worse than I hate Wiggins." + +"Really, these feelings of yours are a subject in which I do not take +the smallest interest." + +"I tell you," cried Leon, struggling to repress his rage, "if you sign +this paper you shall be free." + +"Let me be free first, and then I will think about it." + +"If you get free you'll refuse to sign," said Leon. + +"But if I were to sign first I should never be free." + +"You shall be free. I promise you on the honor of a gentleman," cried +Leon, earnestly. + +"I'm afraid," said Edith, in a tone of quiet contempt, "that the +security is of too little value." + +Leon looked at her with fury in his eyes. + +"You are driving me to the most desperate measures," he cried. + +"It seems to me that your measures have all along been as desperate as +they well can be." + +"I swear by all that's holy," thundered Leon, "that I'll tame you yet. +I'll bring you into subjection." + +"Ah! then in that case," said Edith, "my comfort will be that the +subjection can not last long." + +"Will it not ?" asked Leon. + +"No, it will not, as you very well know," said Edith, in cold, measured +tones, looking steadfastly at him with what seemed like a certain solemn +warning. She rose as she said this, still looking at Leon, while he +also rose in a state of vehement excitement. + +"What do you meant" he cried. "You look as blood-thirsty as an +assassin." + +"I may yet become one," said Edith, gloomily, "if this lasts much +longer. You have eyes, but you will not see. You treat me like some +silly, timid child, while I have all the time the spirit of a man. This +can only end in one way. Some one must die!" + +Leon looked at her in astonishment. Her voice and her look showed that +she was in earnest, but the fragile beauty of her slender form seemed to +belie the dark meaning of her words. + +"I came with a fair offer," said he, in a voice hoarse with passion. + +"You!" said Edith, in cold scorn; "you with a fair offer! Fairness and +honor and justice and truth, and all such things, are altogether unknown +to such as you." + +At this Leon frowned that peculiar frown of his, and gnawed his mustache +in his rage. + +"I have spared you thus far," said he--"I have spared you; but now, by +Heaven, you shall feel what it is to have a master!" + +"You!" she cried--"you spared me? If I have escaped any injury from you, +it has been through my own courage and the cowardice of your own heart. +You my master! You will learn a terrible lesson before you become +that!" + +"I have spared you," cried Leon, now beside himself with rage--"I have +spared you, but I will spare you no longer. After this you shall know +that what I have thus far done is as nothing to that which is yet before +you." + +"What you have done!" said Edith, fixing her great wrathful eyes more +sternly upon Leon, with a look of deadly menace, and with burning +intensity of gaze, and speaking in a low tone that was tremulous with +repressed indignation--"what you have done! Let me tell you, Captain +Dudleigh, your heart's blood could never atone for the wrongs you have +done me! Beware, Sir, how you drive me to desperation. You little know +what I have in my mind to do. You have made me too familiar with the +thought of death!" + +At these words Leon stared at her in silence. He seemed at last to +understand the full possibility of Edith's nature, and to comprehend +that this one whom he threatened was capable, in her despair, of making +all his threats recoil on his own head: He said nothing, and in a few +moments afterward she left the room. + +As she went out of the door she encountered Hugo. He started as she +came noiselessly upon him. He had evidently been listening to all that +had been said. At this specimen of the way in which she was watched, +though it really showed her no more than what she had all along known, +there arose in Edith's mind a fresh sense of helplessness and of peril. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: EDITH SET TO WORK. ] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +THE FUGITIVE AND THE PURSUER. + +On returning to her own room from that interview with Leon, Edith sat +for a long time involved in thought. It was evident to her now that her +situation was one full of frightful peril. The departure of Wiggins, of +which she was aware, seemed to afford additional danger. Between him +and Leon there had been what seemed to her at least the affectation of +dislike or disagreement, but now that he was gone there remained no one +who would even pretend to interpose between herself and her enemy. Even +if Mrs. Dunbar had been capable of assisting her against Leon, Edith +knew that no reliance could be placed upon her, for she had openly +manifested a strong regard for him. + +This departure of Wiggins, which thus seemed to make her present +position more perilous, seemed also to Edith to afford her a better +opportunity than any she had known since her arrival of putting into +execution her long-meditated project of flight. True, there was still +the same difficulty which had been suggested once before--the want of +money--but Edith was now indifferent to this. The one thing necessary +was to escape from her new perils. If she could but get out of the +Dalton grounds, she hoped to find some lawyer who might take up her +cause, and allow her enough to supply her modest wants until that cause +should be decided. But liberty was the one thought that eclipsed all +others in her estimation; and if she could but once effect her escape +from this horrible place, it seemed to her that all other things would +be easy. + +The present appeared to be beyond all others the fitting time, for +Wiggins was away, and it seemed to her that in his absence the watch +over her would probably be relaxed. Her long illness would of itself +have thrown them to some extent off their guard, and render her purpose +unsuspected. By this time it would doubtless be forgotten that she had +once left the Hall by night, and it was not likely that any precaution +would be taken against a second flight on the part of one so weak as she +was supposed to be. A few days before she had made a stealthy visit to +that door, and had found, to her great relief, that no additional +fastenings had been put there. Her illness had evidently rendered any +such precaution unnecessary for the time; and since her recovery Wiggins +had no doubt been too much occupied with other things to think of this. + +Now was the time, then, for flight. The danger was greater than ever +before, and the opportunity for escape better. Leon was master in the +house. The other inmates were simply his creatures. Leon Dudleigh, as he +called himself, claimed to be her husband. He asserted that claim +insolently and vehemently. She had defied him, but how long would she be +able to maintain that defiant attitude? How long could her frail +strength sustain her in a life of incessant warfare like this, even if +her spirit should continue to be as indomitable as ever? The scene of +this day, and her last parting with him, made the danger seem so +imminent that it nerved her resolution, and made her determine at all +hazards to attempt her escape that night. + +But how should she escape? + +Not for the first time did this question occur. For a long time she had +been brooding over it, and as she had thought it over she had devised a +plan which seemed to hold out to her some prospect of success. + +In the first place, it was evident that she would have to climb over the +wall. To obtain any key by which she could open the gates was +impossible. She could find none that were at all likely to do so; +besides, she was afraid that even if she had a key, the attempt to +unlock the gates might expose her to detection and arrest by the +watchful porter. The wall, therefore, was her only hope. + +Now that wall could not be climbed by her unassisted strength, but she +knew that if she had any sort of a ladder it might easily be done. The +question that arose, then, was how to procure this ladder. A wooden one +could not be of any service, for she could not carry it so far, and she +saw plainly that her attempt must be made by means of some sort of a +rope-ladder. + +Having reached this conclusion, she began a diligent search among all +the articles at her disposal, and finally concluded that the bed-cord +would be exactly what she needed. In addition to this, however, +something more was required--something of the nature of a grapple or +hook to secure her rope-ladder to the top of the wall. This required a +further search, but in this also she was successful. An iron rod on the +curtain pole along which the curtains ran appeared to her to be well +suited to her needs. It was about six feet long and a quarter of an inch +thick. The rod rested loosely on the pole, and Edith was able to remove +it without difficulty. + +All these preliminaries had been arranged or decided upon before this +evening, and Edith had now only to take possession of the rod and the +rope, and adapt them to her wants. For this purpose she waited till +dark, and then began her work. + +It was moonlight, and she was able to work without lighting a lamp, thus +securing additional secrecy. This moonlight was both an advantage and a +disadvantage, and she did not know whether to be glad or sorry about it. +It certainly facilitated her escape by showing the way, but then, on the +other hand, it rendered discovery easier. + +Edith set to work, and, first of all, she removed the bed-cord. It was +as strong as was desirable, and far longer than was necessary. She +doubled part of this, and tied knots at intervals of about a foot, and +in this simple way formed what was a very good step-ladder about three +yards long, which was sufficient for her purpose. Then she removed the +iron curtain rod, and bent this in such a way that it formed a hook or +grapple strong enough for her wants. She thus had a rope-ladder, with a +grappling-iron attached, of rude construction, it is true, yet perfectly +well suited to the task before her, and so light as to be quite +portable. + +These preparations did not take up much time. After taking what she +wanted of the bed-cord, there was enough left to replace in the bedstead +so as to hold up the bed. She did not know what might happen, and wished +to preserve appearances in the event of Mrs. Dunbar's entrance, or in +case of her being compelled to postpone her project. From the same +motive she also replaced the curtain so as to look as it did before, +securing it in its place by means of pins. + +At length all these preparations were completed, and it only remained +for Edith to wait for the proper time to start. + +The hours passed on. + +Midnight came, but even at that hour Edith thought that it was too +early. Leon probably kept late hours, and might be wandering about. She +determined to wait longer. + +The moon was still shining. There were only a few scattered clouds in +that clear sky. + +Could she find her way to the wall? She felt confident of that. She +intended to go down the avenue, keeping close to the trees, so as to fly +to their shelter in case of pursuit. When she reached the neighborhood +of the porter's lodge, she would go through the trees to the wall, +trusting to fortune to find her way for that short distance. + +Such were the hopes and plans, made long before, which now occupied her +thoughts as she waited. + +At last two o'clock came. It seemed now that it would be unwise to wait +any longer, since the time that was left between this and daylight was +barely sufficient to allow for contingencies. Without any farther delay, +therefore, she prepared to depart. + +It was with a painful feeling of suspense and agitation that she set +forth upon this attempt at flight, which she knew must be a final one. +Over her left arm she threw the rope-ladder, while in her left hand she +held that ancestral dagger which had already done her such good service +in her dealings with Leon. Her right hand was thus free to grope in the +dark for her way, to open bolts, or to seize the dagger from her other +hand whenever the need for it might arise. For this last dread necessity +she had thoroughly prepared herself. By the desperation of her position, +and by the dark menaces of Leon, she had been nerved to a courage beyond +even that elevated standard which her high spirit ordinarily reached, +and she had resolved that if any one interposed between herself and that +liberty for which she longed, to use that dagger, and to strike without +scruple. + +On leaving her room she stood for a moment in the outer hall and +listened. All was still. She glided noiselessly along, and reached the +stairway. Once more she stood and listened before descending. There was +silence yet. She now descended the stairs as noiselessly as before, and +reached the lower hall, where she walked quickly toward the east end, +and came to the narrow stairway that led down to the door. Here once +more she paused. A fearful thought came to her as she looked down. What +if some one should be waiting there in the dark! What if Leon should be +there! In spite of herself a shudder passed through her at that thought. + +Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard a sound--a sound which roused +her once more to action, and inspired new fears. It was the sound of a +footfall--far away, indeed, inside the house, but still a footfall--a +heavy tread, as of some one in pursuit, and its sound was loud and +menacing to her excited senses. There was only one to whom she could +attribute it--Leon! + +He had heard her, then! + +She was pursued! + +Like lightning this thought came to her, and brought terror with it. She +could delay no longer. Down the narrow stairway she hurried through the +darkness, and reached the door. In her panic she forgot her usual +caution. With a jerk she drew the bolt back, and a harsh grating sound +arose. She flung open the door, which also creaked on its unused +hinges. Then leaping out, she hastily banged the door after her, and ran +straight on. + +In front of Dalton Hall there was a wide lawn and a pond. Beyond this +arose the trees of the park. Toward the shelter of these shadowy trees +Edith hurried, with the dread sense in her soul that she was being +pursued by a remorseless enemy. This thought lent additional speed to +her footsteps as she flew over the intervening space. The moon was +shining brightly, and she knew that she could easily be seen by any +watcher; but she sought only the more to reach the trees, and thus +escape observation. The time seemed long indeed to her in those moments +of dread suspense; but the space was at last traversed, the trees were +reached, and plunging into the midst of them, she ran along, +occasionally stumbling, until at length, partly from exhaustion and +partly from a desire to see where her enemy might be, so as to elude him +better, she stopped. + +Her course had been a circuitous one, but she had kept along the edge of +the wood, so that now, as she stopped, she found herself under the +shadow of the trees, and immediately opposite the portico of Dalton +Hall, between which and herself lay the pond. Here she stood, and +looked over the intervening space. + +As she looked, she at first saw no appearance of any human being, and +she began to think that her fears all along had been unfounded; but in a +little while, as her eyes wandered over the front of the Hall, she saw +something which at once renewed all her excitement, and showed her that +her fears were true. + +Upon the portico stood a figure, the general outlines of which were now +visible to her, as she looked carefully, and seemed to be the figure of +Leon. She could recognize the gray dress which he usually wore, and also +understood why she had not noticed him before, for the color of his +clothes had made him but faintly visible against the gray stone mass of +the background. He was now standing there with his face turned in her +direction. + +"He has heard me," she thought. "He has seen me. Instead of chasing me +at once, he has stopped to listen, so as to judge of my course. He knows +that I am here now in this spot, and is still listening to find out if I +go any further." + +In a few moments her attention was attracted by a dark object lying on +the portico near Leon. + +It was the dog! + +She knew it well. Her heart sank within her. + +"He is going to track me with the dog!" she thought. + +What could she do? + +Nothing. Flight was now worse than useless. All seemed lost, and there +was nothing now left to her in that moment of despair but the resolve to +resist to the end. + +After a short time, which to Edith seemed prolonged to a terrible +degree, the figure came down the steps, followed by the dog. + +Edith watched. + +He walked on; he rounded the end of the pond; he came nearer! + +She could now recognize his face as the moon shone down. + +It was Leon. There was no longer the slightest doubt of that. He was +coming toward her, and the huge dog followed. + +Edith involuntarily shrank back among the trees, and grasping her dagger +with desperate resolve, awaited the approach of her enemy. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +THE EMPTY ROOMS. + +On the following morning Mrs. Dunbar waited a long time for Edith's +appearance. But she did not make her appearance, and the time passed, +until it at length grew so late that she determined to see what was the +matter. Full of fear lest some new illness had been the result of the +new excitement to which she had been subjected, Mrs. Dunbar passed +cautiously through Edith's sitting-room, and knocked at her bedroom +door. + +There was no answer. + +She knocked again and again, and still receiving no answer, she opened +the door and looked in. + +To her amazement the room was empty. What was more surprising was the +fact that the bed did not appear to have been slept in. There was no +disorder visible in the room. Every thing was in its usual place, but +Edith was not there, and in that one glance which Mrs. Dunbar gave she +took in the whole truth. + +Edith had fled! + +She knew also that she must have fled during the night; that the event +against which such precautions had been taken had occurred at last, and +that she was responsible. Over that sorrowful anxious face there came +now a deeper sorrow and a graver anxiety at that discovery, and sitting +down upon a chair, she tried to conjecture Edith's possible course, and +wondered how she could get over the wall and out of the grounds. + +At length she left this room, and going down stairs, called Hugo. + +"Hugo," said she, "has the captain come down?" + +"I habn't seen him, ma'am," said Hugo, respectfully. + +"He always rises early," said Mrs. Dunbar. "I wonder what's the matter. +He certainly must be up." + +Turning away, she ascended the stairs, and went to the room which was +occupied by Leon. The door was open. She entered. The room looked as +though it had just been left by its occupant. The bed bore signs of +having been occupied. The valise was lying there open. Upon the +toilet-table was a pocket-book, and hanging from the screw of the +looking-glass was his watch. His riding whip and gloves and top-boots +were lying in different places. + +As Mrs. Dunbar saw all this, she concluded at first that he had gone out +for a walk, and would soon be back; but the lateness of the hour made +that idea seem absurd, and showed her that there must be some other +cause. The flight of Edith thereupon occurred to her, and was very +naturally associated in her mind with the departure of Leon. Had he been +watching? Had he detected her flight, and gone in pursuit? It seemed +so. If so, he was doubtless yet in pursuit of the fugitive, who must +have fled fast and far to delay him so long. + +Then another thought came--the idea of violence. Perhaps he had caught +the fugitive, and in his rage and vindictive fury had harmed her. That +he was fierce enough for any atrocity she well knew; and the thought +that he had killed her, and had fled, came swift as lightning to her +mind. + +The idea was terrible. She could not endure it. She left the room and +hurried down stairs again. + +"Hugo," said she, "go down and ask the porter if he has seen the captain +or Miss Dalton." + +"Miss Dalton!" exclaimed Hugo. + +"Yes; she's gone." + +"Gone!" repeated Hugo, in amazement. + +He said no more, but hurried down to the gates, while Mrs. Dunbar, who +felt restless and ill at ease, walked up the stairs, and feeling +fatigued, stopped on the landing, and leaned against the window there, +looking out upon the ground in the rear of the Hall. + +Standing here, her eyes were attracted by a sight which made her start. +It was the Newfoundland dog. He was standing at some distance from the +house, looking straight ahead at vacancy, in a rigid attitude. The sight +of this animal, who was always the inseparable companion of his master, +standing there in so peculiar a fashion by himself, excited Mrs. Dunbar; +and forgetful of her weariness, she descended the stairs again, and +quitting the Hall, approached the spot where the dog was standing. + +As she approached, the dog looked at her and wagged his tail. She called +him. He went on wagging his tail, but did not move from the spot. She +went up to him and stroked him, and looked all around, hoping to see +some signs of his master. She looked in the direction in which the dog +had been staring when she first noticed him. The stables seemed to be +the place. Toward these she walked, and tried to induce the dog to +follow, but he would not. She then walked over to the stables, and +looked through them, without seeing any trace of the object of her +search. Upon this she returned to the house. + +On coming back she found Hugo. He had been to the gates, he said; but +the porter had seen nothing whatever either of the captain or Miss +Dalton. + +This intelligence deepened the anxious expression on Mrs. Dunbar's face. + +"His dog is here," said she, in a tremulous voice. + +"His dog!" said Hugo. "Oh yes; he's ben out dar all de mornin'. Dunno +what de matta wid dat ar animal at all. Stands dar like a gravy statoo." + +For the rest of that day Mrs. Dunbar was restless and distressed. She +wandered aimlessly about the house. She sent Hugo off to scour the +grounds to see if he could find any trace of either of the fugitives. +Every moment she would look out from any window or door that happened to +be nearest, to see if either of them was returning. But the day passed +by, and Hugo came back from his long search, but of neither of the +fugitives was a single trace found. + +What affected Mrs. Dunbar as much as any thing was the behavior of the +dog. Through all that day he remained in the same place, sometimes +standing, sometimes lying down, but never going away more than a few +feet. That the dog had some meaning in this singular behavior, and that +this meaning had reference to the flight of one or the other of the late +inmates of the house, was very evident to her. No persuasion, or +coaxing, or even threatening could draw the dog away; and even when Hugo +fired a gun off close to his lead, he quivered in every nerve, but only +moved back a foot or two. Food and drink were brought to him, of which +he partook with a most eager appetite, but no temptation could draw him +any distance from his post. That night was a sleepless one for Mrs. +Dunbar; and it was with a feeling of great relief that she heard the +noise of a carriage early on the following day, and knew that Wiggins +had returned. + +She hurried down at once, and met him in the great hall. In a few words +she told him all. + +For such intelligence as this Wiggins was evidently unprepared. He +staggered back and leaned against the wall, staring at Mrs. Dunbar with +a terrible look. + +"What! Gone!" he said, slowly. "Edith!" + +"Yes; and Leon." + +"Edith gone!" gasped Wiggins once more. + +"Did you hear nothing in the village?" + +"I drove through without stopping. Did you send to the village?" + +"I did not think that they could have got out of the grounds." + +"They! There's no trouble about Leon?" + +"I'm afraid--for him," said Mrs. Dunbar, in a faint voice. + +"For him!" exclaimed Wiggins. "What can happen to him? For her, you +mean." + +"They must have gone off together." + +"Together! Do you think Edith would go with _him_? No; she has fled +in her madness and ignorance, turning her back on happiness and love, +and he has pursued her. O Heavens!" he continued, with a groan, "to +think that it should end in this! And cursed be that scoundrel--" + +"Stop!" cried Mrs. Dunbar. "He is not a scoundrel. He would not harm +her. You don't know Leon. He has not left the place; his dog is here." + +"His dog!" + +Mrs. Dunbar explained. + +Upon this Wiggins went through the hall to the rear, and there, in the +same place as where Mrs. Dunbar last saw him, was the dog. He was lying +down now. He wagged his tail in friendly recognition as they came up. +Wiggins patted him and stroked him and tried to coax him away. The +result was precisely the same as it had been before. The dog received +all advances in the most friendly manner possible. He wagged his tail, +rolled over on his back, licked their hands, sat up on his +hind-quarters, and did every thing which dogs usually do when petted or +played with, but nothing would induce him to leave the place. He did not +appear to be in any trouble. He seemed simply to have made up his mind +to stay there, and this resolution he maintained most obstinately. + +Wiggins could make nothing of it; but the sight of the dog renewed the +terrors of Mrs. Dunbar. + +"I'm afraid," said she--"I'm afraid that something's happened to Leon." + +"To Leon!" exclaimed Wiggins, impatiently; "what could happen to him! I +told him to quit this place, and he has probably concluded to do so." + +"But what do you think of his flight at the same time with Edith?" + +"I don't know what to think of it. I only know this, that if he has +harmed one hair of her head, I--I'll--kill him! My own injuries I will +forgive, but wrongs done to her I will avenge!" + +At this Mrs. Dunbar shrank away, and looked at Wiggins in fear. + +"But it may be all the other way," said she, in a tremulous voice. +"Edith was terrible in her fury. She was no timid, faltering girl; she +was resolute and vindictive. If he has followed her, or laid hands on +her, she may have--" She hesitated. + +"May have what?" asked Wiggins. + +"She may have done him some harm." + +"_She_ may have done _him_ some harm!" repeated Wiggins, with +a sneer. "What! and when he had his big dog to protect him? Pooh!" + +And with a scornful laugh he turned away. + +Mrs. Dunbar followed him. + +"She was so terrible in her despair," said she, as she followed him; +"she looked like a fury--beautiful, yet implacable." + +"Silence!" cried Wiggins. "Stop all that nonsense, or you'll drive me +mad. Are you crazy? When I am almost broken-hearted in my anxiety about +her, what do you mean by turning against that wronged and injured girl, +who I now see has been driven to despair by my own cursed mistakes, and +pretending that she is the aggressor, and your scoundrel Leon the +victim?" + +In the midst of this Wiggins was interrupted by the approach of Hugo. + +"A genl'man, Sah, wants to see you, Sah," said he. + +"A gentleman," repeated Wiggins. "Who is he? How did he come here?" + +"Dunno, Sah, nuffin 'bout dat, Sah." + +"It's about Edith!" exclaimed Wiggins; and he hurried into the house. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +THE VICAR OF DALTON. + +Wiggins entered the drawing-room, and found his visitor there. He was a +slight man, with light hair, watery gray eyes, and very mild demeanor. +The timidity of the man seemed very marked; there was an apologetic air +about him; and his very footfall as he advanced to greet Wiggins seemed +to deprecate some anticipated rough treatment. He spoke a few words, +and at Wiggins's request to be seated he sat down, while his agitation +increased; and he had that hesitating, half-abstracted manner which +marks the man who is on the point of giving unpleasant information, +about the effect of which he is doubtful. + +Wiggins, on his part, did not seem to notice this. He sat down, and +looked with earnest inquiry at his visitor. He seemed to know what was +the object of this visit, and yet to dread to ask it. + +The visitor had given his name as the Rev. Mr. Munn, and Wiggins +recognized that name as belonging to the parish vicar. That name +excited strange emotions within him, for it was the same name that had +appeared in the papers in connection with Edith's marriage. + +"Well?" said Wiggins at last, in some impatience. + +Mr. Munn cleared his throat. + +"I have come here," he began, "to tell you very distressing news." + +Wiggins was silent. + +"I refer to--a--a--Mrs. Dudleigh," said Mr. Munn. + +"Well?" said Wiggins, in a scarcely audible voice. + +"She is at the village inn." + +"At the village inn!" repeated Wiggins, in evident agitation, drawing a +long breath. + +"She is alive, then?" he added, eagerly. + +"Oh yes," said Mr. Munn; "she came there early yesterday morning." And +then he went on to tell his story, the substance of which was as +follows: + +On the previous morning about dawn the people at the Dalton Inn were +aroused by a hurried knock. On going to the door they found Mrs. +Dudleigh. The moment that the door was opened she sprang in and fell +exhausted to the floor. So great was her weakness that she could not +rise again, and had to be carried up to one of the bedrooms. She was so +faint that she could scarcely speak; and in a feeble voice she implored +them to put her to bed, as it was a long time since she had had any +rest, and was almost dead with fatigue. + +Her condition was most pitiable. Her clothes were all torn to shreds, +and covered with mud and dust; her hands were torn and bleeding; her +shoes had been worn into rags; and she looked as though she had been +wandering for hours through woods and swamps, and over rocks and sand. +To all their inquiries she answered nothing, but only implored them to +put her to bed and let her rest; above all, she prayed most piteously +that they would tell no one that she was there. This they promised to +do; and, indeed, it would have been difficult for them to have informed +about her, since none at the inn had ever seen her before, or had the +remotest idea who she could be. + +Full of pity and sympathy, they put her to bed, and the landlady watched +over her most assiduously. All the morning she slept profoundly; but at +about noon she waked with a scream, like one who has been roused from +some fearful dream. + +After that she grew steadily worse. Fever set in, and became more and +more violent every moment. In their anxiety to do what she had +requested, and keep her secret, they did not send immediately for a +doctor. But her condition soon became such that further delay was out of +the question, so they sent for the village physician. + +When he arrived she was much worse. She was in a high fever, and +already delirious. He pronounced her situation to be dangerous in the +extreme, urged upon them the greatest care, and advised them to lose no +time in letting her friends know about her condition. Here was a dilemma +for these worthy people. They did not know who her friends were, and +therefore could not send for them, while it became impossible to keep +her presence at the inn a secret Not knowing what else to do, they +concluded to send for the vicar. + +When Mr. Munn came he found them in great distress. He soon learned the +facts of the case, and at once decided that it should be made known to +Captain Dudleigh or to Wiggins. For though he did not know Edith's face, +still, from the disconnected words that had dropped from her during her +delirium, reported to him by the inn people, he thought it probable that +she was the very lady whom he had married under such mysterious +circumstances. So he soothed the fears of the landlady as well as he +could, and then left. It was late at night when he went from the inn, +and he had waited till the morning before going to Dalton Hall. He had +some difficulty in getting in at the gate, but when the porter learned +the object of his visit he at once opened to him. From the porter he +learned of the disappearance of Captain Dudleigh also. Nothing was then +left but to see Wiggins. Accordingly he had come to the Hall at once, +so as to tell his message with the shortest possible delay. + +To this recital Wiggins listened with gravity. He made no gesture, and +he spoke no word, but sat with folded arms, looking upon the floor. When +Mr. Munn had ended, he, after a long silence, turned toward him and +said, in a severe tone, + +"Well, Sir, now I hope you see something of the evil of that course +which you chose to pursue." + +"Evil? course?" stammered Mr. Munn. "I don't understand you." + +"Oh, I think you understand me," said Wiggins, gloomily. "Has not your +conscience already suggested to you the probable cause of this strange +course of her whom you call Mrs. Dudleigh?" + +"My conscience!" gasped Mr. Munn; "what has my conscience to do with +it?" + +"How long is it since that wretched mockery at which you officiated?" +asked Wiggins, sternly. + +"I really--I think--a few months only." + +"A few months," repeated Wiggins. "Well, it has come to this. That is +the immediate cause of her flight, and of her present suffering." + +"I--I--married them," stammered Mr. Munn; "but what of that? Is her +unhappiness my fault? How can I help it? Am I responsible for the future +condition of those couples whom I marry? Surely this is a strange thing +to say." + +"You well know," said Wiggins, "what sort of a marriage this was. It was +no common one. It was done in secret. Why did you steal into these +grounds like a thief, and do this infamous thing?" + +"Why--why," faltered the unhappy vicar, growing more terrified and +conscience-stricken every minute--"Captain Dudleigh asked me. I cannot +refuse to marry people." + +"No, Sir, you can not when they come to you fairly; you can not, I well +know, when the conditions of the law are satisfied. But was that so +here? Did you not steal into these grounds? Did you not come by night, +in secret, conscious that you were doing wrong, and did you not have to +steal out in the same way? And your only excuse is that Captain Dudleigh +asked you!" + +"He--he--showed very strong reasons why I should do so," said Mr. Munn, +who by this time was fearfully agitated--"very strong reasons, I do +assure you, Sir, and all my humanity was--a--aroused." + +"Your humanity?" sneered Wiggins. "Where was your humanity for her?" + +"For her!" exclaimed the vicar. "Why, she wanted it. She loved him." + +"Loved him! Pooh! She hated him worse than the devil." + +"Then what did she marry him for?" cried Mr. Munn, at his wits' end. + +"Never mind," said Wiggins; "you went out of your way to do a deed the +consequences of which can not yet be seen. I can understand, Sir, how +Captain Dudleigh could have planned this thing; but how you, a calm, +quiet clergyman, in the full possession of your faculties, could have +ever been led to take part in it, is more than I can comprehend. I, Sir, +was her guardian, appointed as such by her father, my own intimate +friend. Captain Dudleigh was a villain. He sought out this thoughtless +child merely for her money. It was not her that he wanted, but her +estate. I could easily have saved her from this danger. He had no chance +with me. But you come forward--you, Sir--suddenly, without cause, +without a word of warning--you sneak here in the dark, you entice her to +that lonely place, and there you bind her body and soul to a scoundrel. +Now, Sir, what have you got to say for yourself!" + +Mr. Munn's teeth chattered, and his hands clutched one another +convulsively. "Captain Dudleigh told me that she was under restraint +here by--by you--and that she loved him, and that her only refuge was to +be married to him. I'm sure I didn't mean to do any harm." + +"Rubbish!" said Wiggins, contemptuously. "The law gives a guardian a +certain right to parental restraint for the good of the ward. The slight +restraint to which she was subjected was accompanied by the deepest love +of those who cared for her here. I had hoped, Sir, that you might have +something different to tell me. I did not know that you had actually +acted so madly. I thought the story which I heard of that marriage was +incredible, and I have always spoken of it as a mockery. But from what I +now gather from you, it seems to have been a _bona fide_ marriage, +true and valid." + +"I--I'm afraid it--it was," said Mr. Munn. + +Wiggins gave something that was almost like a groan. + +"Friends," he cried, passionately, rising from his chair--"friends from +the bottomless pit could not have more foully and fatally deceived that +poor, thoughtless, trustful child. But all their trickery and treachery +could never have succeeded had they not found a paltry tool in a +senseless creature like you--you, Sir--who could stand there and go +mumbling your marriage service, and never see the infernal jugglery that +was going on under your very eyes. Yes, you, Sir, who now come to wring +and break my heart by the awful tidings that you now tell me. Away! +Begone! I have already borne more than my share of anguish; but this, if +it goes on, will kill me or drive me mad!" + +He turned away, with his head bent, with an unsteady step, and walked +toward the window, where he stood leaning against it heavily, and +staring out at vacancy. + +As for Mr. Munn, he gave one glance of horror at Wiggins, and then, with +a swift, frightened step, he hurried from the Hall. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +THE HOUSE OF REFUGE + +The illness of Edith was of no light or common kind. Her old glow of +health had not yet returned. The state of affairs at Dalton Hall had +retarded any thing like a complete recovery, and when she started off on +her desperate flight, she was unfit for such a venture. Through that +terrible night she had undergone what might have laid low a strong man, +and the strength which had barely carried her to the door of the inn had +there left her utterly; and so fierce was the attack that was now made +upon her by this new illness that recovery seemed scarce possible. + +The doctor was as non-committal as doctors usually are in a really +dangerous case. It was evident, however, from the first, that her +situation awakened in his mind the very deepest anxiety. He urged the +landlady to keep the house in the quietest possible condition, and to +see that she was never left without attendants. This the landlady +promised to do, and was unremitting in her attentions. + +But all the care of the attendants seemed useless. Deeper and deeper +Edith descended into the abyss of suffering. Day succeeded to day, and +found her worse. Fortunately she was not conscious of what she had to +endure; but in that unconsciousness her mind wandered in delirium, and +all the sorrows of the past were lived over again. + +They knew not, those good kind souls who waited and watched at her +bedside, what it was that thus rose before her, and distressed her in +the visions of her distempered brain, but they could see that these were +the result of deep grief and long sorrow, and therefore they pitied her +more than ever. As her mind thus wandered, she talked incessantly, often +in broken words, but often also in long connected sentences, and all +these were intermingled with moans and sighs. + +"This is a heart-rending," said the doctor once. "It is her mind, poor +lady, that has brought on this illness. In this case medicine is of no +use. You can do more than I can. You must watch over her, and keep her +as quiet as she can be kept." + +All of which the landlady promised more fervently than ever, and kept +her promise too. + +But in spite of all this care, the fever and the delirium grew worse. +The events of her Dalton life rose before her to the exclusion of all +other memories, and filled all her thoughts. In her fancies she again +lived that life of mingled anxiety and fear, and chafed and raged and +trembled by turns at the restraint which she felt around her. Then she +tried to escape, but escape was impossible. Then she seemed to speak +with some one who promised deliverance. Eagerly and earnestly she +implored this one to assist her, and mentioned plans of escape. + +Most of all, however, her thoughts turned to that scene in the Dalton +vaults. The dead seemed all around. Amidst the darkness she saw the +ghost of her ancestors. They frowned menacingly upon her, as on one who +was bringing dishonor upon a noble name. They pointed at her scornfully +with their wan fingers. Deep moans showed the horror of her soul, but +amidst these moans she protested that she was innocent. + +Then her flight from the Hall came up before her. She seemed to be +wandering through woods and thickets and swamps, over rocks and fallen +trees. + +"Shall I never get out?" she murmured. "Shall I never get to the wall? +I shall perish in this forest. I am sinking in this mire." + +Then she saw some enemy. "It is he!" she murmured, in low thrilling +tones. "He is coming! I will never go back--no, never! I will die +first! I have my dagger--I will kill him! He shall never take me +there--never, never, never! I will kill him--I will kill him!" + +After which came a low groan, followed by a long silence. + +So she went on in her agony, but her delirious words carried no +connected meaning to her attendants. They could only look at one another +inquiringly, and shake their heads. "She has been unhappy in her married +life, poor dear," said the landlady once, with a sigh; and this seemed +to be the general impression, and the only one which they gathered from +her words. + +Thus a fortnight passed away. + +At length the lowest stage of the disease was reached. It was the +turning-point, and beyond that lay either death or recovery. All night +long the landlady watched beside the bed of the poor sufferer, who now +lay in a deep sleep, scarce breathing, while the doctor, who came in at +midnight, remained till morning. + +Morning came at length, and Edith awaked. The delirium had passed. She +looked around inquiringly, but could recall nothing. + +"Auntie dear," she said, feebly, "where are you?" + +"There isn't no auntie, dear," said the landlady, gently. "You are at +Dalton Inn But don't speak, dearie--you are too weak." + +"Dalton Inn," repeated Edith, in a faint voice. She looked puzzled, for +she was as yet too confused to remember. Gradually however, memory +awaked, and though the recollection of her illness was a blank, yet the +awful life that she had lived, and her flight from that life, with all +its accompaniments, came gradually back. + +She looked at the landlady with a face of agony. + +"Promise," said she, faintly. + +"Promise what, dearie?" + +"Promise--that--you will not--send me away." + +"Lord love you! send you away? Not me." + +"Promise," said Edith, in feverish impatience, "that you will not let +them take me--till I want to go." + +"Never; no one shall touch a hair of your head, dearie--till you wish +it." + +The tone of the landlady gave Edith even more confidence than her words. +"God bless you!" she sighed, and turned her head away. + +A week passed, and Edith continued to get better every day. Although her +remembrances were bitter and her thoughts most distressing, yet there +was something in her present situation which was, on the whole, +conducive to health. For the first time in many months she felt herself +free from that irksome and galling control which had been so maddening +to her proud nature. Her life in Dalton Hall had been one long +struggle, in which her spirit had chafed incessantly at the barriers +around it, and had well-nigh worn itself out in maintaining its +unconquerable attitude. Now all this was over. She trusted this honest +and tender-hearted landlady. It was the first frank and open face which +she had seen since she left school. She knew that here at last she would +have rest, at least until her recovery. What she might do then was +another question, but the answer to this she chose to put off. + +But all this time, while Edith had been lying prostrate and senseless at +the inn, a great and mighty excitement had arisen and spread throughout +the country, and all men were discussing one common subject--the +mysterious disappearance of Captain Dudleigh. + +He had become well known in the village, where he had resided for some +time. His rank, his reputed wealth, and his personal appearance had all +made him a man of mark. His marriage with Miss Dalton, who was known to +be his cousin, had been publicly announced, and had excited very general +surprise, chiefly because it was not known that Miss Dalton had +returned. The gentry had not called on the bride, however, partly on +account of the cloud that hung over the Dalton name, but more especially +on account of the air of mystery that hung about the marriage, and the +impression that was prevalent that calls were not expected. + +The marriage had been largely commented upon, but had been generally +approved. It had taken place within the family, and the stain on the +Dalton name could thus be obliterated by merging it with that of +Dudleigh. It seemed, therefore, wise and appropriate and politic, and +the reserve of the married couple was generally considered as a mark of +delicacy, good taste, and graceful respect for public opinion. + +Captain Dudleigh had at first been associated with a friend and relative +of his, Lieutenant Dudleigh, who had made himself quite popular in the +outside world. Neither of them, however, had gone into society. It was +understood that Lieutenant Dudleigh had come simply for the purpose of +being the captain's groomsman, and when, after the marriage, he +disappeared, nothing more was thought about him. + +Occupying as he did this place in the attention of the county people, +Captain Dudleigh's disappearance created an excitement which can easily +he imagined. Who first started the report could not be found out, but no +sooner had it been started than it spread like wild-fire. + +Moreover, in spite of the landlady's care, they had heard of Edith's +flight and illness, and naturally associated these two startling facts +together. The Dalton name was already covered with deep disgrace, and +that another tragedy should take place in connection with it was felt to +be very natural. Week after week passed on, and still there were no +tidings of the missing man. With the lapse of each week the excitement +only increased. Throughout the whole county this was the common topic +of conversation. It was matter for far more than the ordinary nine +days' wonder, for about this there was the fascination and the horror of +an impenetrable mystery. + +For it was universally felt that in some way or other this mystery was +connected with Edith, and that its solution lay with her. It was +universally known that she had fled from Dalton Hall in a most +suspicious and unaccountable manner, and that Captain Dudleigh had +disappeared on that very night. It was natural, therefore, that every +body should think of her as being, to some extent at least, aware of the +fate of Dudleigh, and that she alone could account for it. + +And so the excitement grew stronger and stronger every day. Gradually +the whole public came to know something about the circumstances of the +ill-fated marriage. There seemed to be some power at work which sent +forth fresh intelligence at various intervals to excite the public mind. +It was not Wiggins, for he kept himself in strict seclusion; and people +who went to stare at the gates of Dalton Park found nothing for their +pains. It could not have been the vicar, for his terror had reduced him +to a state of simple imbecility. There was some other cause, and that +cause seemed always at work. + +From this mysterious cause, then, the public gained a version of the +story of that marriage, which was circulated every where. Miss Dalton, +it was said, had fallen in love with Captain Dudleigh, but her guardian, +Wiggins, had resisted her inclinations. She determined to get married in +spite of him, and Captain Dudleigh had a clergyman brought into the +park, who performed the ceremony secretly. After the marriage, however, +it was said, Captain Dudleigh treated his wife badly, and clamored for +money to pay his debts. His wife suspected that he bad married her for +this sole purpose. They quarreled incessantly. Her health broke down +through grief and disappointment, and she was ill for a long time. After +her recovery they had several stormy interviews, in which she had +threatened his life. It was said that she always carried a dagger, with +which she had sworn to kill him. She had told him to his face that she +would have "_his heart's blood_." + +Such was the story that circulated far and wide among all classes. None +had seen Edith personally except the doctor and those at the inn; and +the general impression about her was that she was a fierce, bold, +impetuous woman, with iron resolution and masculine temper. So, on the +whole, public opinion ran high against her, and profound sympathy was +felt for the injured husband. + +All this was not confined to the county. The metropolitan papers had +mentioned it and discussed it, and the "_Continued Disappearance of +Captain Dudleigh_" was for a long time the standing heading of many +paragraphs. + +But during all this time Edith remained at the inn in complete +seclusion, recovering slowly hut surely. In that seclusion she was +utterly ignorant of the excitement which she had caused, and, indeed, +was not aware that she was talked of at all. The papers were all kindly +kept out of her sight, and as she had never been accustomed to read +them, she never thought of asking for them. + +But the public feeling had at last reached that point at which it +demanded, with resistless voice, an inquiry after the missing man. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +THE OLD WELL. + +Public feeling had grown so strong that it could no longer be +disregarded, and the authorities had to take up the case. It was +enforced upon their attention in many ways. The whole county urged it +upon them, and journals of note in different parts of the kingdom +denounced their lethargy. Under these circumstances they were compelled +to take some action. + +Wiggins had foreseen this, and to guard against this necessity he had +himself done all in his power to search after the missing man. He had +put the case in the hands of detectives, who had carried on an +investigation in all quarters, and in every possible way; but to no +purpose, and with no result. When at length the authorities came, he +informed them of his search and its failure, but assured them that he +still believed that Captain Dudleigh was alive. His theory was that, +being heavily in debt, he had taken this mode of eluding his creditors, +and after causing it to be believed that he was dead, he had quietly +disappeared, and was now enjoying himself somewhere on the Continent. +No one else, however, shared this opinion, and those who came to the +search had no doubt that the missing man had been murdered. So they +instituted a regular search over the whole estate. They began with the +Hall, and went through every part of it. Then they turned their +attention to the grounds These were extensive, and it seemed probable +that somewhere among the groves or swamps the remains might be found. +They searched the chapel and the vaults. They dragged the pond in front +of the house. In all this Wiggins lent his active assistance toward +furthering the ends of justice, but at the same time retained the +firmest conviction that it was a trick of Dudleigh's, and that he was +now in foreign parts. + +At length some of those who had been going the rounds of the wall +returned to the house, carrying something, the sight of which produced a +profound excitement. It was the hook and rope by which Edith, had sought +to escape. They found it hanging upon the wall, and every one recognized +at a glance the intention of this rope-ladder. But the thing that +produced the strongest excitement was something else. They had found it +lying among the grass at the foot of the ladder, having evidently been +dropped by some fugitive as an impediment, or thrown away as useless. It +was a dagger, which, from being so long exposed to the weather, was +covered with rust, but was still sharp and deadly. + +This dagger seemed at once to confirm the general impression. It showed +that one of the fugitives of that night--the one who had escaped--had +been armed with a deadly weapon. Every one knew who the one was who had +escaped. Every one had already suspected her. Her wild flight, her +terrible agitation, her long illness--all had been known. What else +could cause such a state of things but the dread remembrance of some +dark crime? And now this dagger lay before them, the silent proof of the +guilt of her who had left it there. + +Upon Wiggins the effect was crushing. His tongue was paralyzed. He kept +aloof after that, with despair on his face, and surveyed the proceedings +at a distance. Not so Mrs. Dunbar. All this time she had been feverish +and agitated, sometimes following the officers, at other times retiring. +Upon her the sight of that dagger acted like something that confirmed +the worst of her fears, and she burst forth into wild wails and +lamentations. She then urged the officers to renewed search, and +finally told them all about her own discovery of the empty rooms on that +eventful morning, and the singular behavior of the dog. + +The mention of this created new excitement, and they at once asked where +the dog now was. + +Mrs. Dunbar did not know. The dog had disappeared most mysteriously, and +they had seen nothing of him for a long time. + +They then asked to be taken to the place where the dog had stationed +himself. Mrs. Dunbar, still wild with excitement, led the way there. +Arriving at the spot, they examined it narrowly, but found nothing. It +was grass, which had not been touched for years. No body lay buried +beneath that old turf, as was plainly evident. They then went to the +out-houses, toward which Mrs. Dunbar told them the dog had kept his +face, turned for some time when she had first seen him; but here they +found nothing whatever. + +It was now late, and they began to think of retiring, when suddenly one +of the party, who had been walking in the rear of the stables, gave a +call which drew them all in that direction. Upon reaching him they found +him standing at the edge of a pit, which looked like an old well. Over +this there was still the frame of what had been the well-house, and the +well itself was very deep. Kneeling, they all peered into the black +depths beneath them, but discovered nothing. One of them dropped a +stone, and the sound far below showed that the bottom lay at least sixty +or eighty feet from the surface. + +"How long since this well has been used?" asked the sheriff. + +"Many years," said Mrs. Dunbar. + +"Did you examine it?" + +"We never thought of doing so." + +"Well, we may as well try it. Can we have a rope?" + +"Certainly," said Mrs. Dunbar, who at once went to the house, and soon +returned with Hugo, who carried a long stout rope. + +Now it remained to explore the well, and to do this it would be +necessary for some one to descend. But no difficulty was found in this. +By this time all had been stimulated to the highest degree by the +excitement of the search, and there was something in the look of the +well which made it seem like the very place for the hurried disposal of +a body. Here, then, they were all convinced, if any where, they would be +sure to come upon that which they sought. Accordingly several +volunteered to go down; but the sheriff chose from among them the one +who seemed fittest for that purpose, and to the others was allotted the +task of lowering him. Some further time was taken up in making the +necessary preparations for this; but at length these were all completed, +and the man who was to go down, after binding one end of the rope about +his chest and giving the other end to his companions, prepared to +descend. + +The well was not very wide, and was lined around its sides with rough +stones. In the interstices between these he inserted his feet and hands, +and thus he let himself down, descending gradually. + +The others knelt around the mouth of the well, holding the rope, and +letting it pass through their hands as their companion descended, +peering silently into the dark with eager eyes, and listening +breathlessly to the dull sounds made by the man below as he descended +further and further. + +At last all was still. From below there came no sound. He had reached +the bottom. More anxiously than ever they tried to pierce through the +gloom, but that gloom was impenetrable. Their companion delayed long. +They began to feel uneasy. + +At length they heard sounds, and knew that he was ascending. With what +intelligence? What had he found in that awful abyss? This was the +question which was suggested to every heart, but a question which no one +could answer They lent their assistance, and pulled at the rope to help +their companion. Nearer and nearer he came, and still nearer, until at +last he was within reach. A few moments more and he emerged from the +mouth of the well, and falling forward, he lay for a moment motionless. + +They all rushed to his assistance, but he shook them off and rose to his +feet. + +"Did you find any thing?" + +"Yes," said the man, in a hollow voice. + +"What?" cried all, in breathless suspense. + +"You shall see. Bring lights here, somebody. It's getting too dark for +this business." + +Hugo was at once dispatched to the Hall by Mrs. Dunbar for lights. There +was by this time every necessity for them. Much time had been taken up +with their preparations, and the shadows of evening had already gathered +about them. While Hugo was gone they all questioned their companion, +but he refused to say any thing. + +"Don't ask me," he replied. "Wait and see for yourselves." + +At this answer there was but one conviction in the minds of all, which +was that the object of their search had been found. But there was now +no further delay. Hugo soon returned with a lantern, and the man +prepared to descend once more. The lantern he hung about his neck, and +taking another piece of rope with him, the end of which was left with +those above, he again went down. This time he was gone longer than +before. Those above peering through the gloom could see a faint light +far below, and the shadowy outline of their companion. + +At length he began to ascent, and in due time reached the top. + +"There," said he; "you may pull on that line. I have fastened it so +that it'll hold." + +Saying this, he flung himself exhausted on the grass, and unslung the +lantern and unbound the rope. + +The others pulled. There was a heavy weight at the end of the rope. +They could all conjecture well what that dead-weight might be. But the +fierce curiosity that now animated them stimulated them to put forth all +their strength in a series of vigorous pulls. Nearer and nearer came +that weight to the top. At last it hung just beneath them. Half a +dozen hands were stretched out, and in an instant it was jerked out and +lay upon the grass. + +The sheriff seized the lantern and held it up. The scene was one of +horror. All around was the gloom of night, the shadowy outline of trees +and of the out-houses. A flickering light revealed a group of men +surrounding some object on the grass, upon which they gazed in silent +awe. + +It was a shapeless, sodden mass, but the human outline was preserved, +and the clothes were there, recognizable. It was a grisly, a hideous +sight, and it held them all spellbound. + +But suddenly the silence was broken. A wild shriek burst forth from +Mrs. Dunbar, who the next instant fell forward upon the hideous object. +Hugo seized her and raised her up. She was senseless. + +"What is this?" cried the stern voice of Wiggins, who at that moment had +come to the place. + +"Mrs. Dunbar has fainted," said the sheriff; and then he pointed +silently to the Thing that lay in the midst of the circle of spectators. + +Wiggins looked at it, and seemed turned to stone. Then a shudder passed +through him. Then he turned away. + +As he walked he staggered like one who has received some terrible blow, +and staggering on in his way, he passed out of sight into the gloom. +After this Mrs. Dunbar was carried into the house by Hugo. + +There was silence for a long time. + +"The head is gone!" said the sheriff at +length, in a low voice. + +"Yes," said another; "it's been long in the water." + +"Water couldn't do it," said the sheriff; "it was gone before it went +into the water." + +"What was that for?" + +"To prevent identification," said the sheriff, in a significant tone. + +The remains were in due time conveyed to an appropriate place, together +with the rope and the dagger. On the following day a search was made +for the missing head. The well was pumped dry, a task in which there +was little difficulty, as there was little more than two feet of water +in it, but nothing of the kind was found. Then they dragged the pond, +but without result. The search was also continued elsewhere, but it was +equally unsuccessful. + +It was then concluded that the murderer had removed the head of his +victim to prevent identification, and had buried it somewhere, but that +the traces of burial had been obliterated by the lapse of time. The only +wonder was that the clothes should have been allowed to remain by one +who had been so much on his guard as to decapitate his victim. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +THE CORONER'S INQUEST. + +The remains were deposited in a proper place, and a coroner's inquest +was held at once, at which the usual examination of witnesses was +conducted. + +Wiggins was examined first. He showed great constraint. He had not much +to say, however, about the disappearance of Captain Dudleigh, for he had +been absent at that time, and he could only state what took place after +his return. But in the course of these inquiries much was extorted from +him relative to Edith's position at Dalton Hall, her marriage, and the +terms on which she had been living with her husband. His answers were +given with extreme hesitation and marked reluctance, and it was only by +the utmost persistence that they were wrung from him. + +The porter was examined, and in the course of the inquiry that scene at +the gates when Edith tried to escape was revealed. + +Hugo was examined. It was found out that he had overheard the +conversation between Edith and Captain Dudleigh at their last interview. +Hugo's answers were given with as much reluctance as those of Wiggins, +but he was not able to evade the questions, and all that he knew was +drawn from him. But Hugo's remembrance of words was not very accurate, +and he could not give any detailed report of the conversation which he +had overheard. Several things, however, had been impressed upon his +memory. One was the occasion when Edith drew a dagger upon Captain +Dudleigh, and left the room with it in her hand; another was when, in +her last interview with him, she menaced his life, and threatened to +have his "_heart's blood_." So it was that Hugo had understood +Edith's words. + +Mrs. Dunbar was examined, and gave her testimony with less hesitation. +She was deathly pale, and weak and miserable. She spoke with difficulty, +but was eager to bear witness to the noble character of Captain +Dudleigh. She certainly showed nothing like hate toward Edith, but at +the same time showed no hesitation to tell all about her. She told +about Captain Dudleigh's first visits, and about the visits of his +friend, who had assumed his name, or had the same name. She told how +Edith had been warned, and how she scorned the warning. From her was +elicited the story of Edith's return after her marriage, her illness, +recovery, and desperate moods, in which she seemed transformed, as Mrs. +Dunbar expressed it, to a "fury." The account of her discovery of the +flight of Edith and the captain was given with much emotion, but with +simple truth. + +Mr. Munn was also examined about the marriage. He had not yet recovered +from the agitation into which he had been thrown during his interview +with Wiggins, but seemed in a state of chronic fright. + +After these witnesses one other yet remained. It was one whose +connection with these events was the closest of all--one upon whom that +jury already looked as guilty of a terrible crime--as the one who had +inflicted with her own hand that death whose cause they were +investigating. + +There was no doubt now in any mind. The remains had been identified by +all the witnesses. The head had been removed, and had not been found, +but the clothes were known to all. By these they judged the remains to +be the body of Captain Dudleigh. Wiggins alone hesitated--but it was +only hesitation; it was not denial. + +When Edith was summoned before the coroner's jury, it was the very first +intelligence that she had received of an event in which she was so +deeply concerned. The landlady had heard all about the search and its +results; but true to her determination to spare Edith all trouble, she +had not allowed any news of these proceedings to be communicated to her. +When the official appeared with his abrupt summons to attend, the shock +was terrible, but there was nothing left except submission. A few brief +answers to her hurried and agitated questions put her in possession of +the chief facts of the case. On her way to the place she said not a +word. The landlady went with her to take care of her, but Edith did not +take any notice of her. + +As she entered the room where the examination was going on, the scene +that presented itself was one which might well have appalled a stouter +heart than that of Edith, and which, coming as it did after the shock of +this sudden surprise, and in the train of all that she had already +suffered, gave to her a sharp pang of intolerable anguish, and filled +her soul with horror unspeakable. + +[Illustration: "WITH A LOUD CRY, SHE HALF TURNED."] + +The rope-ladder lay there with its hook, with which she had effected her +escape, and beside these was the dagger which more than once she had +interposed between herself and her fierce aggressor; but it was not +these that she saw; something else was there which fixed and enchained +her gaze, which held her with a terrible fascination. A sheet was +thrown over it, but the outlines of that which lay beneath indicated a +human form, and the information which Edith had already received made +her well aware whose that form was supposed to be. But she said nothing; +she stood rigid, horror-stricken, overwhelmed, and looked at it with +staring eyes and white lips. + +The coroner made some remarks, consisting of the usual formulas, +something like an apology for the examination, a hint that it might +possibly affect herself, and a warning that she should be very careful +not to say any thing that might inculpate herself. + +To all this Edith paid no attention. She did not appear to have heard +it. She stood, as the coroner spoke, in the same attitude as before, +with her eyes set in the same rigid stare. As the coroner ceased, he +stepped forward and drew away the sheet. + +There it lay at last--unveiled, revealed to her eyes--the abhorrent +Thing, whose faint outline had chilled her very soul, its aspect +hideous, frightful, unendurable! As the sheet fell away, and all was +revealed before her, she could restrain herself no longer; the strain +was too great; with a loud cry, she half turned and tried to run. The +next instant the landlady caught her as she was falling senseless to the +floor. + +The examination of Mrs. Dudleigh was postponed. On the whole, however, +it was afterward considered unnecessary. Enough had been gathered from +the other witnesses to enable the jury to come to a conclusion. It was +felt, also, that Mrs. Dudleigh ought to have a chance; though they +believed her guilty, they felt sorry for her, and did not wish her to +criminate herself by any rash words. The result was that they brought in +a verdict of murder against Mrs. Leon Dudleigh. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +A STRANGE CONFESSION + +The news of Edith's arrest spread like wild-fire, and the event became +soon the subject of universal conversation. Rumors of all sorts arose, +as is natural under such circumstances, most of which were adverse to +the accused. People remembered against the daughter the crimes of the +father. It was _bad blood_, they said, which she had inherited; it +was an evil race to which she belonged, and the murderous tendency was +hereditary. + +The examination at the inquest had made known the general facts of her +story, out of which public gossip constructed another story to suit +itself. + +Mrs. Dudleigh had been found troublesome and dangerous all along, so +much so that it became necessary to keep her within the grounds. When +Captain Dudleigh was paying attentions to her, she treated him with +perfect brutality. On one occasion she struck him with her whip, and +tried to run away. Captain Dudleigh had sent his friend, or relative, +Lieutenant Dudleigh, to bring about a reconciliation. This was so well +managed that the two resumed their former relations, and she even +consented to make a runaway match with him. This, however, was not out +of love so much as to spite her guardian. + +After this marriage she took a violent dislike to her husband, and +pretended to be ill, or perhaps suffered real illness, the natural +result of her fierce, unbridled temper. Her husband found it impossible +to live with her. The few interviews which they had were very stormy. +Over and over again she threatened his life. At length she beguiled him +into the park on some unknown pretext, and there, with that dagger which +she had so often flourished in his face, she shed that very _"heart's +blood"_ which she had threatened to take. The murder was evidently a +preconcerted act. She must have done it deliberately, for she had +prepared the means of secret escape. She deliberately tried to conceal +her act, and after removing his head, and burying it, she had thrown the +body into the old well. But _"murder will out,"_ etc., etc.; and +with this and other similar maxims Edith's condemnation was settled by +the public mind. + +Thus Edith was in prison, held there under a terrible charge, for which +there was proof that was appalling in its character. The body found and +identified seemed to plead against her; circumstances inculpated her; +motives were assigned to her sufficiently strong to cause the act; her +own words and acts all tended to confirm her guilt. + +After all, however, this last blow was not so crushing a one as some +others which she had received in the course of her life. The most +terrible moment perhaps had been that one when she was taken and +confronted with the horrible remains. After that shock had subsided she +rallied somewhat; and when her arrest took place she was not unprepared. + +If the shock of the arrest had thus been less severe than might be +supposed, so also was she less affected by her imprisonment than another +person would have been in such a situation. The reason of this is +evident. She had endured so much that this seemed an inferior +affliction. The anguish which she had known could not be increased by +this. At Dalton Hall she had become habituated to imprisonment, and of a +far more galling kind to her than this. She had been in the power of a +tyrant, at his mercy, and shut out from all means of communicating with +the world at large. Her soul had perpetually fretted and chafed against +the barriers by which she was confined, and the struggle within herself +was incessant. Afterward there had been the worse infliction of that +mock marriage, and the unspeakable dread of a new tyrant who called +himself her husband. No prison could equal the horrors which she had +known at Dalton Hall. Here in the jail her situation was at least known. +From Wiggins she was saved; from her false husband rescued forever. She +was now not in the power of a private tyrant, exercising his usurped +authority over her from his own desire, and with his will as his only +law; but she was in the hands of the nation, and under the power of the +national law. So, after all, she knew less grief in that prison cell +than in the more luxurious abode of Dalton Hall, less sorrow, less +despair. Her mood was a calm and almost apathetic one, for the great +griefs which she had already endured had made her almost indifferent to +anything that life might yet have to offer. + +Two days after her arrest word was brought to Edith that a lady wished +to see her. Full of wonder who it could be, and in doubt whether it +could be Miss Plympton, or only Mrs. Dunbar, Edith eagerly directed that +the visitor should be admitted. + +Thereupon a lady dressed in black entered the chamber. A heavy black +veil was over her face, which she raised as she entered, and stood +before Edith with downcast eyes. + +There was something in that face which seemed strangely familiar to +Edith, and yet she found herself quite unable to think who the lady +could be. She thought over all the faces that she had known in her +school days. She thought over the faces at Dalton Hall. Suddenly, as +the lady raised her eyes, there was an additional revelation in them +which at once told Edith all. + +She started back in amazement. + +"Lieutenant Dudleigh!" she cried. + +The lady bowed her head, and said, in a low voice, + +"Fortescue is my real name." + +[Illustration: "BUT EVEN NOW I WOULD BE WILLING TO DIE FOR HIM."] + +A suspicion of this sort had once flashed across Edith's mind. It was +during the altercation at the Dalton chapel. Still, as this suspicion +was thus confirmed, her surprise was extreme, and she said not a word, +but looked steadily at her. And in the midst of other thoughts and +feelings she could not help seeing that great changes had come over Miss +Fortescue, as she called herself, in addition to those which were +consequent upon her resumption of feminine attire. She was pale and +thin, and looked ten years older than she used to look. Evidently she +had undergone great suffering. There were marks of deep grief on her +face. Much Edith marveled to see that one who had acted so basely was +capable of suffering such grief. She could not help being reminded of +that expression which she had seen on this same face when they were +arranging that false marriage; but now that deep remorse which then had +appeared seemed stamped permanently there, together with a profound +dejection that was like despair. All this was not without its effect on +Edith. It disarmed her natural indignation, and even excited pity. + +"Miss Dalton," said the visitor, in a voice that was quite different +from the one which she remembered--a voice that was evidently her +natural one, while that other must have been assumed--"Miss Dalton, I +have come to try to do something, if possible, toward making amends +for--for a frightful injury. I know well that amends can never be made; +but at least I can do a little. Will you listen to me for a few moments, +not with regard to me, but solely for your own sake?" + +Edith said nothing, but bowed her head slightly. She did not yet know +how far this betrayer might be sincere, and wished to hear and judge for +herself. + +"Will you let me, first of all, make a confession to you of my great +sin?" she continued, slowly and painfully. "You will understand better +your own present situation. I assure you it will be a help to you +toward freeing yourself. I don't ask you to believe--I only ask you to +listen." + +Edith again bowed. + +"I will tell you all, then. I was an actress in London; my name was +Fortescue. I was a celebrity at Covent Garden. It was there that I +first met Captain Dudleigh. I need say no more about him than this: I +loved him passionately, with a frenzy and a devotion that you can not +understand, and my fate is this--that I love him yet. I know that he is +a coward and a villain and a traitor, but even now I would be willing to +die for him." + +The voice was different--how different!--and the tone and manner still +more so. The careless "Little Dudleigh" had changed into a being of +passion and ardor and fire. Edith tried to preserve an incredulous state +of mind, but in vain. She could not help feeling that there was no +acting here. This at least was real. This devoted love could not be +feigned. + +"He swore he loved me," continued Miss Fortescue. "He asked me to be his +wife. We were married." + +"Married!" cried Edith, in a tone of profoundest agitation. + +"Yes," said Miss Fortescue, solemnly, "we were married. But listen. I +believed that the marriage was real. He told some story about his +friends being unwilling--about his father, who, he said, would disown +him if he found it out. He urged a private marriage, without any public +announcement. He knew a young clergyman, he said, who would do him that +favor. For my part I had not the slightest objection. I loved him too +well to care about a formal wedding. So we were married in his rooms, +with a friend of his for witness. + +"He set up a modest little house, where we lived for about a year. At +first my life was one of perfect happiness, but gradually I saw a change +coming over him. He was terribly in debt, and was afraid of utter ruin. +From hints that dropped from him, I began to suspect that he meditated +some sort of treachery toward me. Then, for the first time, I was +alarmed at the privacy of our marriage. Still, I was afraid to say any +thing to him, for fear that it might hasten any treachery toward me +which he might meditate. I loved him as dearly as ever, but I found out +that he was base and unprincipled, and felt that he was capable of any +thing. I had to content myself with watching him, and at the same time +tried to be as cheerful as possible. + +"At length he heard about you, and came to Dalton. His father sent him, +he said. I followed him here. At first he was angry, but I persuaded him +to take me as an assistant. He did not want to be known at the Hall, +for he wished to see first what could be done with Wiggins. He made me +disguise myself as a man, and so I called myself Lieutenant Dudleigh. He +went to Dalton Hall, and discovered that the porter was some old +criminal who had done his crime on the Dudleigh estates--poaching, I +think, or murder, or both. On seeing Wiggins, he was able to obtain some +control over him--I don't know what. He never would tell me. + +"By this time I found out what I had all along suspected--that he came +here for your sake. He was terribly in debt. A dark abyss lay before +him. He began to feel me to be an incumbrance. He began to wish that he +was a free man, so that he might marry you. I saw all this with a grief +that I can not tell. + +"We made several calls on you. I went as his mother, Mrs. Mowbray." + +"Mrs. Mowbray! You!" exclaimed Edith, in wonder. + +"Did I act my part well?" said Miss Fortescue, mournfully. "It was an +easy enough part. I believe I succeeded in making myself utterly +detestable. Captain Dudleigh was bitterly vexed at my manner. He wanted +me to gain your confidence. That, however, I could not yet bring myself +to do. His own intercourse with you was even worse. Your attempt to +escape was a terrible blow to his hopes. Yet he dared not let you +escape. That would have destroyed his plans utterly. You would have +gone to your friends--to Miss Plympton--and you would have found out +things about him which would have made his projects with reference to +you out of the question." + +"Miss Plympton!" cried Edith. "How could I have gone to her? She is +away." + +"That was one of my lies," said Miss Fortescue. "Unfortunately, she is +really ill, but she is still in the country, at her school. I myself +went there to tell her about you only two days ago, but found that she +had been ill for some time, and could not see any one." + +Edith sighed heavily. For an instant hope had come, and then it had died +out. + +"He made me go again to see you, but with what result you know. I was +fairly driven away at last. This made him terribly enraged against you +and against me, but I quieted him by reminding him that it was only his +own fault. It brought about a change in his plans, however, and forced +him to put me more prominently forward. Then it was that he devised +that plan by which I was to go and win your confidence. I can not speak +of it; you know it all. I wish merely to show you what the pressure was +that he put on me. + +"'Dear wife,' said he to me one day, in his most affectionate tone--'my +own Lucy, you know all about my affairs, and you know that I am utterly +ruined. If I can not do something to save myself, I see no other +resource but to blow my brains out. I will do it, I swear I will, if I +can not get out of these scrapes. My father will not help me. He has +paid all my debts twice, and won't do it again. Now I have a proposal to +make. It's my only hope. You can help me. If you love me, you will do +so. Help me in this, and then you will bind your husband to you by a tie +that will be stronger than life. If you will not do this simple thing, +you will doom me to death, for I swear I will kill myself, or at least, +if not that, I will leave you forever, and go to some place where I can +escape my creditors.' + +"This was the way that he forced his plan upon me. You know what it was. +I was to see you, and do--what was done. + +"'You are my wife,' said he, earnestly. 'I can not marry her--I don't +want to--but I do want to get money. Let me have the control of the +Dalton estates long enough to get out of my scrapes. You can't be +jealous of her. She hates me. I hate her, and love you--yes, better than +life. When she finds out that I am married to her she will hate me still +more. The marriage is only a form, only a means of getting money, so +that I may live with my own true wife, my darling Lucy, in peace, and +free from this intolerable despair.' + +"By such assurances as these--by dwelling incessantly upon the fact that +I was his wife, and that this proposed marriage to you was an empty +form--upon your hate for him, and the certainty of your still greater +hate, he gradually worked upon me. He appealed to my love for him, my +pity for his situation, and to every feeling that could move me in his +favor. Then it was that he told me frankly the name of the clergyman +who had married us, and the witness. The clergyman's name was Porter, +and the witness was a Captain Reeves. So, in spite of my abhorrence of +the act, I was led at last, out of my very love to him, and regard for +his future, to acquiesce in his plan. Above all, I was moved by one +thing upon which he laid great stress. + +"'It will really be for her benefit,' he would say. 'She will not be +married at all. I shall take some of her money, certainly; but she is so +enormously rich that she will never feel it; besides, if I didn't get +it, Wiggins would. Better for her cousin to have it. It will be all in +the family. Above all, this will be the means, and the only means, of +freeing her from that imprisonment in which Wiggins keeps her. That is +her chief desire. She will gain it. After I pay my debts I will explain +all to her; and what is more, when I succeed to my own inheritance, as I +must do in time, I shall pay her every penny.' + +"By such plausible reasoning as this he drove away my last objection, +and so, with out any further hesitation, I went about that task. + +"But oh, how hard it was! Over and over again I felt like giving up. But +always he was ready to urge me on, until at last it was accomplished, +and ended as you remember." + +Miss Fortescue paused here, and made no reply. Edith said not a word. +Why should she? What availed this woman's repentance now? + +"I came here," continued Miss Fortescue at length, "first of all to +explain this, but to tell you other things also. I must now tell you +something which makes your position more painful than I thought it would +be. I soon found out the full depth of Captain Dudleigh's villainy. +While I thought that you only were deceived, I found that I the one who +was most deceived. + +"After that marriage in the chapel we went back to Dalton, and there he +abused me in the most frightful manner. He pretended to be enraged +because I rebuked him in the chapel. His rage was only a pretense. Then +it all came out. He told me plainly that my marriage with him was a +mockery; that the man Porter who had married was not a clergyman at all, +but a creature of his whom he had bribed to officiate; that Reeves was +not a captain, and that his testimony in any case would be useless. All +this was crushing. It was something that was so entirely in accordance +with my own fears that I had not a word to say. He railed at me like a +madman, and informed me that he had only tolerated me here at Dalton so +as to use me as his tool. And this was our last interview. He left me +there, and I have never seen him since. He said he was your husband, and +was going to live at Dalton. I could do nothing. I went, however, to the +gates, got sight of Wiggins, and for your sake I told him all. I thought +it was better for you to remain under the authority of Wiggins than to +be in the power of such a villain as Captain Dudleigh. I told Wiggins +also that I still had a hope that my marriage was valid. I went back at +once to London, and tried to find out clergymen named Porter. I have +seen several, and written to many others whose names I have seen on the +church list, but none of them know any thing about such a marriage as +mine. I began, therefore, to fear that he was right, and if so--I was +not his wife." + +Silence followed now for some time. Miss Fortescue was waiting to see +the effect of her story, and Edith was meditating upon the facts with +which this strange revelation dealt. Although she had been so great a +sufferer, still she did not feel resentment now against this betrayer. +For this one was no longer the miserable, perfidious go-between, but +rather an injured wife led to do wrong by the pressure put upon her, and +by her own love. + +"Then that was not a mock marriage?" said she at last. + +"By justice and right it was no marriage," said Miss Fortescue; "but how +the law may regard it I do not know." + +"Has Sir Lionel been heard of yet?" asked Edith, after another pause. + +"Sir Lionel!" said Miss Fortescue, in surprise. "Oh, I had forgotten. +Miss Dalton, that, I grieve to say, was all a fiction. He was never out +of the country." + +"Did you ever speak a word of truth to me?" asked Edith, indignantly. + +Miss Fortescue was silent. + +"At any rate, it is of no consequence now," said Edith. "Sir Lionel is +nothing to me; for he must look with horror on one whom he believes to +be the slayer of his son." + +"Oh, Miss Dalton!" burst forth Miss Fortescue, "do not despair; he will +be found yet." + +"Found! He has been found. Did you +not hear?" + +"Oh, I don't mean that. I do not believe that it was him. I believe that +he is alive. This is all a mistake. I will search for him. I do not +believe that this is him. I believe he is alive. Oh, Miss Dalton, if I +could only do this for you, I should be willing to die. But I will try; +I know how to get on his track; I know where to go; I must hear of him, +if he is alive. Try to have hope; do not despair." + +Edith shook her head mournfully. + +Miss Fortescue tried still further to lessen Edith's despair, and +assured her that she had hopes herself of finding him before it was too +late, but her words produced no effect. + +"I do not ask you to forgive me," said Miss Fortescue; "that would be +almost insolence; but I entreat you to believe that I will devote myself +to you, and that you have one whose only purpose in life now is to save +you from this fearful fate. Thus far you have known me only as a speaker +of lies; but remember, I pray you, what my position was. I was playing a +part--as Mrs. Mowbray--as Lieutenant Dudleigh--as Barber the lawyer--" + +"Barber!" exclaimed Edith. "What! Barber too?" + +"Yes," said Miss Fortescue, sadly; "all those parts were mine. It was +easy to play them before one so honest and so unsuspecting; but oh, Miss +Dalton, believe me, it is in playing a part only that I have deceived +you. Now, when I no longer play a part, but come to you in my own +person, I will be true. I will devote myself to the work of saving you +from this terrible position in which I have done so much to place you." + +Edith made no reply, and soon after Miss Fortescue departed, leaving her +to her own reflections. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +A REVELATION. + +If any thing could have added to the misery of Edith and her general +despondency, it would have been the revelations of Miss Fortescue. It +had certainly been bad enough to recall the treachery of a false friend; +but the facts as just revealed went far beyond what she had imagined. +They revealed such a long course of persistent deceit, and showed that +she had been subject to such manifold, long-sustained, and comprehensive +lying, that she began to lose faith in human nature. Whom now could she +believe? Could she venture to put confidence in this confession of Miss +Fortescue? Was that her real name, and was this her real story, or was +it all some new piece of acting, contrived by this all-accomplished +actor for the sake of dragging her down to deeper abysses of woe? She +felt herself to be surrounded by remorseless enemies, all of whom were +plotting against her, and in whose hearts there was no possibility of +pity or remorse. Wiggins, the archenemy, was acting a part which was +mysterious just now, but which nevertheless, she felt sure, was aimed at +her very life. Mrs. Dunbar, she knew, was more open in the manifestation +of her feelings, for she had taken up the cause of the murdered man with +a warmth and vindictive zeal that showed Edith plainly what she might +expect from her. Her only friend, Miss Plympton, was still lost to her; +and her illness seemed probable, since, if it were not so, she would not +keep aloof from her at such a moment as this. Hopeless as she had been +of late, she now found that there were depths of despair below those in +which she had thus far been--"in the lowest deep, a lower deep." + +[Illustration: "HE SAW HER HEAD FALL"] + +Such were her thoughts and feelings through the remainder of that day +and through the following night. But little sleep came to her. The +future stood before her without one ray of light to shine through its +appalling gloom. On the next day her despair seemed even greater; her +faculties seemed benumbed, and a dull apathy began to settle down over +her soul. + +From this state of mind she was roused by the opening of the door and +the entrance of a visitor. Turning round, she saw Wiggins. + +This was the first time that she had seen him since she left Dalton +Hall, and in spite of that stolid and apathetic indifference which had +come to her, she could not help being struck by the change which had +come over him. His face seemed whiter, his hair grayer, his form more +bent; his footsteps were feeble and uncertain; he leaned heavily upon +his walking-stick; and in the glance that he turned toward her there was +untold sympathy and compassion, together with a timid supplication that +was unlike any thing which she had seen in him before. + +Edith neither said any thing nor did any thing. She looked at him with +dull indifference. She did not move. The thought came to her that this +was merely another move in that great game of treachery and fraud to +which she had been a victim; that here was the archtraitor, the +instigator of all the lesser movements, who was coming to her in order +to carry out some necessary part. + +Wiggins sat down wearily upon one of the rude chairs of the scantily +furnished room, and after a brief silence, looking at her sadly, began. + +"I know," said he, "how yon misunderstand me, and how unwelcome I must +be; but I had to come, so as to assure you that I hope to find this man +who is missing. I--I hope to do so before the--the trial. I have been +searching all along, but without success--thus far. I wish to assure you +that I have found out a way by which you--will be saved. And if you +believe me, I trust that you will--try--to--cherish more hope than you +appear to be doing." + +He paused. + +Edith said nothing at all. She was silent partly out of apathy, and +partly from a determination to give him no satisfaction, for she felt +that any words of hers, no matter how simple, might be distorted and +used against her. + +Wiggins looked at her with imploring earnestness, and seemed to wait for +her to say something. But finding her silent, he went on: + +"Will yon let me ask you one question? and forgive me for asking it; +but it is of some importance to--to me--and to you. It is this: +Did--did you see him at all--that night?" + +"I have been warned," replied Edith, in a dull, cold tone, "to say +nothing, and I intend to say nothing." + +Wiggins sighed. + +"To say nothing," said he, "is not always wise. I once knew a man who +was charged with terrible crimes--crimes of which he was incapable. He +was innocent, utterly. Not only innocent, indeed, but he had fallen +under this suspicion, and had become the object of this charge, simply +on account of his active efforts to save a guilty friend from ruin. His +friend was the guilty one, and his friend was also his sister's husband; +and this man had gone to try and save his friend, when he himself was +arrested for that friend's crimes." + +Wiggins did not look at Edith; his eyes were downcast. He spoke in a +tone that seemed more like a soliloquy than any thing else. It was a +tone, however, which, though low, was yet tremulous with ill-suppressed +agitation. + +"He was accused," continued Wiggins, "and if he had spoken and told what +he knew, he might have saved his life. But if he had done this he would +have had to become a witness, and stood up in court and say that which +would ruin his friend. And so he could not speak. His lips were sealed. +To speak would have been to inform against his friend. How could he do +that? It was impossible. Yet some may think--you may think--that this +man did wrong in allowing himself to be put in this false position. You +may say that he had more than himself to consider--he had his family, +his name, his--his wife, his child! + +"Yes," resumed Wiggins, after a long pause, "this is all true, and he +did consider them, all--all--all! He did not trifle with his family name +and honor, but it was rather on account of the pride which he took in +these that he kept his silence. He was conscious of his perfect +innocence. He could not think it possible that such charges could be +carried out against one like himself. He believed implicitly in the +justice of the courts of his country. He thought that in a fair trial +the innocent could not possibly be proclaimed guilty. More than all, he +thought that his proud name, his stainless character, and even his +wealth and position, would have shown the world that the charges were +simply impossible. He thought that all men would have seen that for him +to have done such things would involve insanity." + +As Wiggins said this his voice grew more earnest and animated. He looked +at Edith with his solemn eyes, and seemed as though he was pleading with +her the cause of his friend--as though he was trying to show her how it +had happened that the father had dishonored the name which the child +must bear--as though he was justifying to the daughter, Edith Dalton, +the acts of the father, Frederick Dalton. + +"So he bore it all with perfect calmness," continued Wiggins, "and had +no doubt that he would be acquitted, and thought that thus he would at +least be able, without much suffering, to save his friend from ruin most +terrific--from the condemnation of the courts and the fate of a felon." + +Wiggins paused once more for some time. He was looking at Edith. He had +expected some remark, but she had made none. In fact, she had regarded +all this as a new trick of Wiggins--a transparent one too--the aim of +which was to win her confidence by thus pretending to vindicate her +father. He had already tried to work on her in that way, and had failed; +and on this occasion he met with the same failure. + +"There is no occasion for you to be silent, I think," said Wiggins, +turning from the subject to the situation of Edith. "You have no friend +at stake; you will endanger no one, and save yourself, by telling +whether you are innocent or not." + +These last words roused Edith. It was an allusion to her possible guilt. +She determined to bring the interview to a close. She was tired of this +man and his attempts to deceive her. It was painful to see through all +this hypocrisy and perfidy at the very moment when they were being used +against herself. + +She looked at him with a stony gaze, and spoke in low, cold tones as she +addressed him. "This is all useless. I am on my guard. Why you come here +I do not know. Of course you wish to entrap me into saying something, +so that you may use my words against me at the trial. You ask me if I +saw this man on that night. You ask me if I am innocent. You well know +that I am innocent. You, and you only, know who saw him last on that +night; for as I believe in my own existence, so I believe, and affirm to +your face, that this Leon Dudleigh was murdered by you, and you only!" + +He looked at her fixedly as she said this, returning her stony gaze with +a mournful look--a pitying look, full of infinite sadness and +tenderness. He raised his hand deprecatingly, but said nothing until she +had uttered those last words. + +"Stop!" he said, in a low voice--"stay! I can not bear it." + +He rose from his seat and came close to her. He leaned upon his stick +heavily, and looked at her with eyes full of that same strange, +inexplicable tenderness and compassion. Her eyes seemed fascinated by +his, and in her mind there arose a strange bewilderment, an expectation +of something she knew not what. + +"Edith," said he, in a sweet and gentle voice, full of tender +melancholy--"Edith, it would be sin in me to let you any longer heap up +matter for future remorse; and even though I go against the bright hope +of my life in saying this now, yet I must. Edith--" + +He paused, looking at her, while she regarded him with awful eyes. + +"Edith!" he said again--"my--my--child!" + +There were tears in his eyes now, and there was on his face a look of +unutterable love and unspeakable pity and forgiveness. He reached out +his hand and placed it tenderly upon her head. + +"Edith," he said again, "my child, you will never say these things +again. I--I do not deserve them. I--am your--your father, Edith!" + +At these words a convulsive shudder passed through Edith. He felt her +frail form tremble, he saw her head fall, and heard a low sob that +seemed torn from her. + +She needed no more words than these. In an instant she saw it all; and +though bewildered, she did not for a moment doubt his words. But her +whole being was overwhelmed by a sudden and a sharp agony of remorse; +for she had accustomed herself to hate this man, and the irrepressible +tokens of a father's love she had regarded as hypocrisy. She had never +failed to heap upon that reverend head the deepest scorn, contumely, and +insult. But a moment before she had hurled at him a terrible accusation. +At him! At whom? At the man whose mournful destiny it had been all along +to suffer for the sins of others; and she it was who had flung upon him +an additional burden of grief. + +But with all her remorse there were other feelings--a shrinking sense of +terror, a recoil from this sudden discovery as from something abhorrent. +This her father! That father's face and form had been stamped in her +memory. For years, as she had lived in the hope of seeing him, she had +quickened her love for him and fed her hopes from his portrait. But how +different was this one! What a frightful change from the father that +lived in her memory! The one was a young man in the flush and pride of +life and strength--the other a woe-worn, grief-stricken sufferer, with +reverend head, bowed form, and trembling limbs. Besides, she had long +regarded him as dead; and to see this man was like looking on one who +had risen from the dead. + +In an instant, however, all was plain, and together with the discovery +there came the pangs of remorse and terror and anguish. She could +understand all. He, the escaped convict, had come to England, and was +supposed to be dead. He had lived, under a false name, a life of +constant and vigilant terror. He kept his secret from all the world. Oh, +if he had only told her! Now the letter of Miss Plympton was all plain, +and she wondered how she had been so blind. + +"Oh!" she moaned, in a scarce audible voice, "why did you not tell me?" + +"Oh, Edith darling! my child! my only love!" murmured Frederick Dalton, +bending low over her, and infolding her trembling frame in his own +trembling arms; "my sweet daughter, if you could only have known how I +yearned over you! But I delayed to tell you. It was the one sweet hope +of my life to redeem my name from its foul stain, and then declare +myself. I wanted you to get your father back as he had left you, without +this abhorrent crime laid to his charge. I did wrong not to trust you. +It was a bitter, bitter error. But I had so set my heart on it. It was +all for your sake, Edith--all, darling, for your sake!" + +Edith could bear no more. Every one of these words was a fresh stab to +her remorseful heart--every tone showed to her the depth of love that +lay in that father's heart, and revealed to her the suffering that she +must have caused. It was too much; and with a deep groan she sank away +from his arms upon the floor. She clasped his knees--she did not dare to +look up. She wished only to be a suppliant. He himself had prophesied +this. His terrible warnings sounded even now in her ears. She had only +one thought--to humble herself in the dust before that injured father. + +Dalton tried to raise her up. + +"My darling!" he cried, "my child! you must not--you will break my +heart!" "Oh," moaned Edith, "if it is not already broken, how can you +ever forgive me?--how can you call me your child?" + +"My child! my child!" said Dalton. "It was for you that I lived. If it +had not been for the thought of you, I should have died long since. It +was for your sake that I came home. It is for you only that I live now. +There is nothing for me to forgive. Look up at me. Let me see your +darling face. Let me hear you say one word--only one word--the word that +I have hungered and thirsted to hear. Call me father." + +"Father! oh, father! dear father!" burst forth Edith, clinging to him +with convulsive energy, and weeping bitterly. + +"Oh, my darling!" said Dalton, "I was to blame. How could you have borne +what I expected you to bear, when I would not give you my confidence? Do +not let us speak of forgiveness. You loved your father all the time, and +you thought that I was his enemy and yours." + +Gradually Edith became calmer, and her calmness was increased by the +discovery that her father was painfully weak and exhausted. He had been +overwhelmed by the emotions which this interview had called forth. He +now sat gazing at her with speechless love, holding her hands in his, +but his breath came and went rapidly, and there was a feverish +tremulousness in his voice and a flush on his pale cheeks which alarmed +her. She tried to lessen his agitation by talking about her own +prospects, but Dalton did not wish to. + +"Not now, daughter," he said. "I will hear it all some other time. I am +too weary, Let me only look at your dear face, and hear you call me by +that sweet name, and feel my child's hands in mine. That will be bliss +enough for this day. Another time we will speak about the--the situation +that you are in." + +As he was thus agitated, Edith was forced to refrain from asking him a +thousand things which she was longing to know. She wished to learn how +he had escaped, how he had made it to be believed that he was dead, and +whether he was in any present danger. But all this she had to postpone. +She had also to postpone her knowledge of that great secret--the secret +that had baffled her, and which he had preserved inviolable through all +these years. She now saw that her suspicions of the man "John Wiggins" +must have been unfounded, and indeed the personality of "Wiggins" became +a complete puzzle to her. + +He bade her a tender adieu, promising to come early on the following +day. + +But on the following day there were no signs of him. Edith waited in +terrible impatience, which finally deepened into alarm as his coming was +still delayed. She had known so much of sorrow that she had learned to +look for it, and began to expect some new calamity. Here, where she had +found her father, where she had received his forgiveness for that which +would never cease to cause remorse to herself, here, in this moment of +respite from despair, she saw the black prospect of renewed misery. It +was as though she had found him for a moment, only to lose him forever. + +Toward evening a note was sent to her. She tore it open. It was from +Mrs. Dunbar, and informed her that her father was quite ill, and was +unable to visit her, but hoped that he might recover. + +After that several days passed, and she heard nothing. At length another +note came informing her that her father had been dangerously ill, but +was now convalescent. + +Other days passed, and Edith heard regularly. Her father was growing +steadily better. On one of these notes he had written his name with a +trembling hand. + +And so amidst these fresh sorrows, and with her feelings ever +alternating between hope and despair, Edith lingered on through the time +that intervened until the day of the trial. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +THE TRIAL. + +At length the day for the trial arrived, and the place was crowded. At +the appearance of Edith there arose a murmur of universal sympathy and +pity. All the impressions which had been formed of her were falsified. +Some had expected to see a coarse masculine woman; others a crafty, +sinister face; others an awkward, ill-bred rustic, neglected since her +father's trial by designing guardians. Instead of this there appeared +before them a slender, graceful, youthful form, with high refinement and +perfect breeding in every outline and movement. The heavy masses of her +dark hair were folded across her brow, and wreathed in voluminous folds +behind. Her pallid face bore traces of many griefs through which she had +passed, and her large spiritual eyes had a piteous look as they wandered +for a moment over the crowd. + +No one was prepared to see any thing like this, and all hearts were at +once touched. It seemed preposterous to suppose that one like her could +be otherwise than innocent. + +The usual formulas took place, and the trial began. The witnesses were +those who had already been examined. It was rumored that Sir Lionel +Dudleigh was to be brought forward, and "Wiggins," and Mrs. Dunbar, but +not till the following day. + +At the end of that day the opinion of the public was strongly in favor +of Edith; but still there was great uncertainty as to her guilt or +innocence. It was generally believed that she had been subject to too +much restraint, and in a foolish desire to escape had been induced to +marry Dudleigh. But she had found him a worse master than the other, and +had hated him from the first, so that they had many quarrels, in which +she had freely threatened his life. Finally both had disappeared on the +same night. He was dead; she survived. + +The deceased could not have committed suicide, for the head was missing. +Had it not been for that missing head, the theory of suicide would have +been plausible. + +The second day of the trial came. Edith had seen her father on the +previous evening, and had learned something from him which had produced +a beneficial effect, for there was less terror and dejection in her +face. This was the first time that she had seen him since his illness. + +There was one in the hall that day who looked at her with an earnest +glance of scrutiny as he took his place among the witnesses. + +It was Sir Lionel Dudleigh, who had come here to give what testimony he +could about his son. His face was as serene as usual; there was no +sadness upon it, such as might have been expected in the aspect of a +father so terribly bereaved; but the broad content and placid bonhomie +appeared to be invincible. + +The proceedings of this day were begun by an announcement on the part of +the counsel for the defense, which fell like a thunder-clap upon the +court. Sir Lionel started, and all in the court involuntarily stretched +forward their heads as though to see better the approach of the +astonishing occurrence which had been announced. + +The announcement was simply this, that any further proceedings were +useless, since the missing man himself had been found, and was to be +produced forthwith. There had been no murder, and the body that had been +found must be that of some person unknown. + +Shortly after a group entered the hall. First came Frederick Dalton, +known to the court as "John Wiggins." He still bore traces of his recent +illness, and, indeed, was not fit to be out of his bed, but he had +dragged himself here to be present at this momentous scene. He was +terribly emaciated, and moved with difficulty, supported by Mrs. +Dunbar, who herself showed marks of suffering and exhaustion almost +equal to his. + +But after these came another, upon whom all eyes were fastened, and even +Edith's gaze was drawn away from her father, to whom she had longed to +fly so as to sustain his dear form, and fixed upon this new-comer. + +Dudleigh! The one whom she had known as Mowbray. Dudleigh! + +Yes, there he stood. + +Edith's eyes were fixed upon him in speechless amazement. It was +Dudleigh, and yet it seemed as though it could not be Dudleigh. + +There was that form and there was that face which had haunted her for so +long a time, and had been associated with so many dark and terrible +memories--the form and the face which were so hateful, which never were +absent from her thoughts, and intruded even upon her dreams. + +Yet upon that face there was now something which was not repulsive even +to her. It was a noble, spiritual face. Dudleigh's features were +remarkable for their faultless outline and symmetry, and now the +expression was in perfect keeping with the beauty of physical form, for +the old hardness had departed, and the deep stamp of sensuality and +selfishness was gone, and the sinister look which had once marred those +features could be traced there no more. + +It was thinner than the face which Edith remembered, and it seemed to +her as if it had been worn down by some illness. If so, it must have +been the same cause which had imparted to those features the refinement +and high bearing which were now visible there. There was the same broad +brow covered with its clustering locks, the same penetrating eyes, the +same square, strong chin, the same firm, resolute month, but here it was +as though a finer touch had added a subtle grace to all these; for about +that mouth there lingered the traces of gentleness and kindliness, like +the remnant of sweet smiles; the glance of the eye was warmer and more +human; there was also an air of melancholy, and over all a grandeur of +bearing which spoke of high breeding and conscious dignity. + +This man, with his earnest and even melancholy face and lofty bearing, +did not seem like one who could have plotted so treacherously against a +helpless girl. His aspect filled Edith with something akin to awe, and +produced a profound impression upon the spectators. They forgot the +hatred which they had begun to feel against Dudleigh in the living +presence of the object of their hate, and looked in silence first at +Edith, then at the new-comer, wondering why it was that between such as +these there could be any thing less than mutual affection. They thought +they could understand now why she should choose him as a husband. They +could not understand how such a husband could become hateful. + +In all the court but one object seemed to attract Dudleigh, and that was +Edith. His eyes had wandered about at first, and finally had rested on +her. With a glance of profoundest and most gentle sympathy he looked at +her, conveying in that one look enough to disarm even her resentment. +She understood that look, and felt it, and as she looked at him in +return she was filled with wonder. + +Could such things be? she thought. Was this the man who had caused her +so much suffering, who bad blasted and blighted the hopes of her life? +or, rather, had the man who had so wronged her been transformed to this? +Impossible! As well might a fiend become changed to an archangel. And +yet here he was. Evidently this was Dudleigh. She looked at him in +speechless bewilderment. + +The proceedings of the court went on, and Dudleigh soon explained his +disappearance. As he spoke his voice confirmed the fact that he was +Dudleigh; but Edith listened to it with the same feelings which had been +excited by his face. It was the same voice, yet not the same; it was the +voice of Dudleigh, but the coldness and the mockery of its intonations +were not there. Could he have been playing a devil's part all along, and +was he now coming out in his true character, or was this a false part? +No; whatever else was false, this was not--that expression of face, that +glance of the eye, those intonations, could never be feigned. So Edith +thought as she listened. + +Dudleigh's explanation was a simple one. He had not been very happy at +Dalton Hall and had concluded to go away that night for a tour on the +Continent. He had left so as to get the early morning train, and had +traveled on without stopping until he reached Palermo, from which he had +gone to different places in the interior of Sicily, which he mentioned. +He had climbed over the gate, because he was in too much of a hurry to +wake the porter. He had left his valise, as he intended to walk. He had, +of course, left his dog at Dalton, because he couldn't take him to the +Continent. He had forgotten his watch, for the reason that he had slept +longer than he intended, and dressed and went off in a great hurry. The +pocket-book which he left was of no importance--contained principally +memoranda, of no use to any but himself. He had no idea there would have +been such a row, or he would not have gone in such a hurry. He had heard +of this for the first time in Sicily, and would have come at once, but, +unfortunately, he had a attack of fever, and could not return before. + +Nothing could have been more natural and frank than Dudleigh's +statement. A few questions were asked, merely to satisfy public +curiosity. Every one thought that a trip to Sicily was a natural enough +thing for one who was on such bad terms with his wife, and the +suddenness of his resolution to go there was sufficient to account for +the disorder in which he had left his room. + +But all this time there was one in that court who looked upon the +new-comer with far different feelings that those which any other had. + +This was Sir Lionel Dudleigh. + +He had heard the remark of the counsel that Dudleigh had returned, and +looked toward the door as he entered with a smile on his face. As he saw +Dudleigh enter he started. Then his face turned ghastly white, and his +jaw fell. He clutched the railing in front of him with both hands, and +seemed fascinated by the sight. + +Near him stood Mrs. Dunbar, and Dalton leaned on her. Both of these +looked fixedly at Sir Lionel, and noticed his emotion. + +At the sound of Dudleigh's voice Sir Lionel's emotion increased. He +breathed heavily. His face turned purple. His knuckles turned white as +he grasped the railing. Suddenly, in the midst of Dudleigh's remarks, he +started to his feet, and seemed about to say something. Immediately in +front of him were Dalton and Mrs. Dunbar. At that instant, as he rose, +Mrs. Dunbar laid her hand on his arm. + +He looked at her with astonishment. He had not seen her before. She +fixed her solemn eyes on him--those eyes to which had come a gloom more +profound, and a sadness deeper than before. But Sir Lionel stared at her +without recognition, and impatiently tried to shake off her hand. + +"Who are you?" he said, suddenly, in a trembling voice--for there was +something in this woman's face that suggested startling thoughts. + +Mrs. Dunbar drew nearer to him, and in a whisper that thrilled through +every fibre of Sir Lionel's frame, hissed in his ear, + +"_I am your wife--and here is my brother Frederick!_" + +Over Sir Lionel's face there came a flash of horror, sudden, sharp, and +overwhelming. He staggered and shrank back. + +"Claudine!" he murmured, in a stifled voice. + +"Sit down," whispered Lady Dudleigh--now no longer Mrs. Dunbar--"sit +down, or you shall have to change places with Frederick's daughter." + +Sir Lionel swayed backward and forward, and appeared not to hear her. +And now his eyes wandered to Dalton, who stood gazing solemnly at him, +and then to Dudleigh, who was still speaking. + +"Who is that?" he gasped. + +"Your son!" said Lady Dudleigh. + +[Illustration: "HE LOOKED AT HER WITH ASTONISHMENT."] + +At this instant Dudleigh finished. Sir Lionel gave a terrible groan, and +flung up his arms wildly. The next instant he fell heavily forward, and +was caught in the arms of his wife. A crowd flew to his assistance, and +he was carried out of court, followed by Lady Dudleigh. + +There was a murmur of universal sympathy. + +"Poor Sir Lionel! He has been heartbroken, and the joy of his son's +safety is too much." + +After this the proceedings soon came to an end. + +Edith was free! + +Dalton tried to get to her, but in his weakness sank upon a seat, and +looked imploringly at his daughter. Seeing this, Dudleigh sprang to his +assistance, and gave his arm. Leaning heavily upon this, Dalton walked +toward Edith, who was already striving to reach him, and, with a low +cry, caught her in his arms. + +Sir Lionel had been taken to the inn, where Lady Dudleigh waited on him. +After some time he recovered his senses, and began to rally rapidly. It +had been feared that it was apoplexy, but, fortunately for the sufferer, +it turned out to be nothing so serious as that. After this Lady Dudleigh +was left alone with her husband. + +Ten years of separation lay between these two--a separation undertaken +from causes that still existed to alienate them beyond the hope of +reconciliation. Yet there was much to be said; and Lady Dudleigh had +before her a dark and solemn purpose. + +On the next day Sir Lionel was able to drive out. Lady Dudleigh seemed +to have constituted herself his guardian. Sir Lionel's face and +expression had changed. The easy, careless bonhomie, the placid content, +the serene joyousness, that had once characterized him, were gone. In +the place of these there came an anxious, watchful, troubled look--the +look of a mind ill at ease--the furtive glance, the clouded brow. It was +as though in this meeting Lady Dudleigh had communicated to her husband +a part of that expression which prevailed in her own face. + +Sir Lionel seemed like a prisoner who is attended by an ever-vigilant +guard--one who watches all his movements, and from whom he can not +escape. As he rolled along in his carriage, the Black Care of the poet +seemed seated beside him in the person of Lady Dudleigh. + +While Sir Lionel thus recovered from the sudden shock which he had felt, +there was another who had endured a longer and severer course of +suffering, and who had rallied for a moment when his presence was +required, but only to sink back into a relapse worse than the illness +from which he had begun to recover. This was Frederick Dalton, who had +crawled from his bed twice--once to his daughter's prison, and once to +the scene of her trial. But the exertion was too much, and the agitation +of feeling to which he had been subject had overwhelmed him. Leaning +heavily on Dudleigh, and also on Edith, he was taken by these two to his +carriage, and thence to the inn; but here he could walk no further. It +was Dudleigh who had to carry him to his room and lay him on his +bed--and Dudleigh, too, who would intrust to no other person the task of +putting his prostrate form in that bed. Dudleigh's own father was lying +in the same house, but at that moment, whatever were his motives, Dalton +seemed to have stronger claims on his filial duty, and Edith had to wait +till this unlooked-for nurse had tenderly placed her father in his bed. + +The doctor, who had found Sir Lionel's case so trifling, shook his head +seriously over Frederick Dalton. Dudleigh took up his station in that +room, and cared for the patient like a son. The day passed, and the +night, and the next morning, but Dalton grew no better. It was a strange +stupor which affected him, not like paralysis, but arising rather from +exhaustion, or some affection of the brain. The doctor called it +congestion. He lay in a kind of doze, without sense and without +suffering, swallowing any food or medicine that might be offered, but +never noticing any thing, and never answering any questions. His eyes +were closed at all times, and in that stupor he seemed to be in a state +of living death. + +Edith's grief was profound; but in the midst of it she could not help +feeling wonder at the unexpected part which Dudleigh was performing. Who +was he that he should take so large a part in the care of her father? +Yet so it was; and Dudleigh seemed to think of nothing and see nothing +but that old man's wasted and prostrate form. + +For the present, at least, departure from the inn was of course out of +the question. Edith's position was a very distressing one. Every +feeling of her heart impelled her to be present at her father's bedside, +but Dudleigh was present at that same bedside; and how could she +associate herself with him even there? At first she would enter the +room, and sit quietly by her father's bedside, and on such occasions +Dudleigh would respectfully withdraw; but this was unpleasant, and she +hardly knew what to do. + +Two or three days thus passed, and on the third Dudleigh requested an +interview, to ask her, as he said, something about "Mr. Wiggins"--for +this was the name by which Mr. Dalton still was called. This request +Edith could not refuse. + +Dudleigh entered with an air of profound respect. + +"Miss Dalton," said he, laying emphasis on that name, "nothing would +induce me to intrude upon you but my anxiety about your father. Deep as +your affection for him may be, it can hardly be greater than mine. I +would gladly lay down my life for him. At the same time, I understand +your feelings, and this is what I wish to speak about. I would give up +my place at his bedside altogether if you wished it, and you should not +be troubled by my presence; but I see that you are not strong enough to +be sole nurse, or to undertake the work that would be required of you, +and that your own affection for him would impose upon you. You yourself +are not strong, and you must take care of yourself for his sake. I will +not, therefore, give up to you all the care of your father, but I will +absent myself during the afternoon, and you will then have exclusive +care of him." + +Edith bowed without a word, and Dudleigh withdrew. + +This arrangement was kept up, and Edith scarcely saw Dudleigh at all. +She knew, however, that his care for her father was incessant and +uninterrupted. Every thing that could possibly be needed was supplied; +every luxury or delicacy that could be thought of was obtained; and not +only were London physicians constantly coming up, but from the notes +which lay around, she judged that Dudleigh kept up a constant +correspondence with them about this case. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +SIR LIONEL AND HIS "KEEPER" + +Sir Lionel, who had come to this place with the face that indicated a +mind at peace, thus found himself suddenly confronted by a grim phantom, +the aspect of which struck terror to his heart. That phantom was drawn +up from a past which he usually did not care to remember. Now, however, +he could not forget it. There was one by his side to remind him of it +always--one who had become his guard, his jailer--in fact, his keeper--a +word which signifies better than any other the attitude which was +assumed by Lady Dudleigh. For the feeling which Sir Lionel had toward +her was precisely like that which the lunatic has toward his keeper, the +feeling that this one is watching night and day, and never relaxes the +terrible stare of those vigilant eyes. There are those who on being thus +watched would grow mad; and Sir Lionel had this in addition to his other +terrors--this climax of them all, that upon him there was always the +maddening glare of his "keeper's" eyes. Terrible eyes were they to him, +most terrible--eyes which he dared not encounter. They were the eyes of +his wife--a woman most injured; and her gaze reminded him always of a +past full of horror. That gaze he could not encounter. He knew without +looking at it what it meant. He felt it on him. There were times when +it made his flesh crawl, nor could he venture to face it. + +A few days of this reduced him to a state of abject misery. He began to +fear that he was really growing mad. In that case he would be a fit +subject for a "keeper." He longed with unutterable longing to throw off +this terrible restraint; but he could not and dared not. That woman, +that "keeper," wielded over him a power which he knew and felt, and +dared not defy. It was the power that arises from the knowledge of +secrets of life and death, and her knowledge placed his life in her +hands. + +This woman was inflexible and inexorable. She had suffered so much that +she had no pity for his present sufferings. These seemed trivial to her. +She showed a grand, strong, self-sufficient nature, which made her his +superior, and put her above the reach of any influences that he might +bring. He could remember the time when she was a fair and gentle young +girl, with her will all subject to his; then a loving bride with no +thought apart from him; but now years of suffering and self-discipline +had transformed her to this, and she came back to him an inexorable +Fate, an avenging Nemesis. + +Yet Sir Lionel did not give up all hope. He could not drive her away. +He could not fly away from her, for her watch was too vigilant; but he +hoped for some chance of secret flight in which, if he once escaped, he +might find his way to the Continent. With something of that cunning +which characterizes the insane, and which, perhaps, is born of the +presence of a "keeper," Sir Lionel watched his opportunity, and one day +nearly succeeded in effecting his desire. + +That day Lady Dudleigh was in her brother's room. Sir Lionel had waited +for this, and had made his preparations. When she had been gone for a +few minutes, he stole softly out of his room, passed stealthily down the +back stairs of the inn, and going out of the back-door, reached the rear +of the house. Here there was a yard, and a gate that led out to a road +at the end of the house. A carriage had been in waiting here for about +an hour. Sir Lionel hurried across the yard, passed through the gate, +and looked for the carriage. + +He took one glance, and then a deep oath escaped him. + +In the carriage was Lady Dudleigh. + +How she could have detected his flight he could not imagine, nor did he +now care. She had detected it, and had followed at once to circumvent +him. She must have gone down the front stairs, out of the front-door, +and reached the carriage before him. And there she was! Those hateful +eyes were fixed on him--he felt the horrid stare--he cowered beneath it. +He walked toward her. + +"I thought I would go out too," said she. + +Sir Lionel said not a word. He felt too much ashamed to turn back now, +and was too politic to allow her to see any open signs that he was in +full flight; so he quietly got into the carriage, and took his seat by +her side. + +Whipping up the horses, he drove them at a headlong rate of speed out +through the streets into the country. His whole soul was full of mad +fury. Rage and disappointment together excited his brain to madness; and +the fierce rush of the impetuous steeds was in accordance with the +excitement of his mind. At length the horses themselves grew fatigued, +and slackened their pace. Sir Lionel still tried to urge them forward, +but in vain, and at last he flung down the whip with a curse. + +"I'll not stand this any longer!" he cried, vehemently, addressing his +"keeper," but not looking at her. + +"What?" said she. + +"This style of being dogged and tracked and watched." + +"You allude to me, I suppose," said Lady Dudleigh. "At any rate, you +must allow that it is better to be tracked, as you call it, by me, than +by the officers of the law." + +"I don't care," growled Sir Lionel, gathering courage. "I'll not stand +this style of thing any longer. I'll not let them have it all their own +way." + +"I don't see what you can do," said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. + +"Do!" cried Sir Lionel, in a still more violent tone--"do! I'll tell you +what I'll do: I'll fight it out." + +"Fight!" + +"Yes," cried Sir Lionel, with an oath. "Every one of you--every one. +Every one without a single exception. Oh, you needn't think that I'm +afraid. I've thought it all over. You're all under my power. Yes--ha, +ha, ha! that's it. I've said it, and I say what I mean. You thought that +I was under your power. Your power! Ha, ha, ha! That's good. Why, you're +all under mine--every one of you." + +Sir Lionel spoke wildly and vehemently, in that tone of feverish +excitement which marks a madman. It may have been the influence of his +"keeper," or it may have been the dawnings of actual insanity. + +As for Lady Dudleigh, she did not lose one particle of her +cold-bloodedness. She simply said, in the same tone, + +"How?" + +"How? Ha, ha! Do you think I'm going to tell _you_? That's +_my_ secret. But stop. Yes; I don't care. I'd just as soon tell as +not. You can't escape, not one of you, unless you all fly at once to the +Continent, or to America, or, better yet, back to Botany Bay. There +you'll be safe. Fly! fly! fly! or else," he suddenly added, in a gloomy +tone, "you'll all die on the gallows! every one of you, on the gallows! +Ha, ha, ha! swinging on the gallows! the beautiful gallows!" + +Lady Dudleigh disregarded the wildness of his tone, or perhaps she chose +to take advantage of it, thinking that in his excitement he might +disclose his thoughts the more unguardedly. + +"You can do nothing," she said. + +"Can't I, though?" retorted Sir Lionel. + +"You wait. First, there's Dalton." + +"What can you do with him?" + +"Arrest him," said Sir Lionel. "What is he? An outlaw! An escaped +convict! He lives under an assumed name. He must go back to Botany +Bay--that is, if he isn't hanged. And then there's that pale-faced devil +of a daughter with her terrible eyes." He paused. + +"What can you do to her?" + +"Her! Arrest her too," cried Sir Lionel. "She murdered my boy--my +son--my Leon. She must be hanged. You shall not save her by this trick. +No! she must be hanged, like her cursed father." + +A shudder passed through Lady Dudleigh. + +Sir Lionel did not notice it. He was too much taken up with his own +vengeful thoughts. + +"Yes," said he, "and there's that scoundrel Reginald." + +"Reginald!" cried Lady Dudleigh, in a stern voice. "Why do you mention +him?" + +"Oh, he's one of the same gang," cried Sir Lionel. "He's playing their +game. He is siding against his father, as he always did, and with his +brother's murderers. He shall not escape. I will avenge Leon's death on +all of you; and as for him, he shall suffer!" + +It was with a strong effort that Lady Dudleigh restrained herself. But +she succeeded in doing so, and said, simply, as before, + +"How?" + +"Arrest him!" cried Sir Lionel. "Arrest him too. He is guilty of +perjury; and if he doesn't hang for it, he'll go back again to Botany +Bay with that scoundrel with whom he sides against me--his own +father--and against his brother." + +"Are there any more?" asked Lady Dudleigh, as Sir Lionel ended. + +"More! Yes," he said. + +"Who?" + +"You!" shouted Sir Lionel, with a voice of indescribable hate and +ferocity. He turned as he spoke, and stared at her. His wild eyes, +however, met the calm, cold, steady glance of those of his "keeper," and +they fell before it. He seized the whip and began to lash the horses, +crying as he did so, "You! yes, you! you! most of all!" + +"What can you do to me?" asked Lady Dudleigh. + +"You? Arrest you." + +"What have I done?" + +"You? You have done every thing. You have aided and abetted the escape +of an outlaw. You have assisted him in his nefarious occupation of +Dalton Hall. You have aided and abetted him in the imprisonment of +Dalton's brat. You have aided and abetted him in the murder of my boy +Leon. You have--" + +"Stop!" cried Lady Dudleigh, in a stern, commanding voice. "You have +been a villain always, but you have never been so outspoken. Who are +you? Do you know what happened ten years ago?" + +"What?" asked Sir Lionel. "Do you mean Dalton's forgery, and his +assassination of that--that banker fellow?" + +Lady Dudleigh smiled grimly. + +"I am glad that you said that," said she. "You remove my last scruple. +My brother's wrongs have well-nigh maddened me; but I have hesitated to +bear witness against my husband, and the father of my children. I shall +remember this, and it will sustain me when I bear my witness against you +in a court of law." + +"Me?" said Sir Lionel. "Me? Witness against me? You can not. No one will +believe you." + +"It will not be only your wife," said she, "though that will be +something, but your own self, with your own hand." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean what you know very well--your letter which you wrote to +Frederick, inclosing your forged check." + +"I never forged a check, and I never wrote a letter inclosing one!" +cried Sir Lionel. "Dalton forged that letter himself, if there is such a +letter. He was an accomplished forger, and has suffered for it." + +"The letter is your own," said Lady Dudleigh, "and I can swear to it." + +"No one will believe you," cried Sir Lionel. "You shall be arrested for +perjury." + +Lady Dudleigh gave another grim smile, and then she added, "There is +that _Maltese cross_. You forget that." + +"What Maltese cross?" said Sir Lionel. "I never had one. That wasn't +mine; it was Dalton's." + +"But I can swear in a court of law," said Lady Dudleigh, "that this +Maltese cross was _yours_, and that it was given to you by me as a +birthday gift." + +"No one will believe you!" cried Sir Lionel; "no one will believe you!" + +"Why not? Will they refuse the oath of Lady Dudleigh?" + +"I can show them that you are insane," said Sir Lionel, with a chuckle +at the idea, which seemed to him like a sudden inspiration. + +"You will not be able to show that Reginald is insane," said she. + +"Reginald?" + +"Yes, Reginald," repeated Lady Dudleigh. "Reginald knows that Maltese +cross, and knows when I gave it to you. He too will be ready to swear to +that in a court of law whenever I tell him that he may do so. + +"Reginald?" said Sir Lionel, in a gloomy voice. "Why, he was--a child +then." + +"He was sixteen years old," said Lady Dudleigh. + +This mention of Reginald seemed to crush Sir Lionel. He was silent for a +long time. Evidently he had not been prepared for this in his plans for +what he called a "fight." He sat in moody silence therefore. Once or +twice he stole a furtive glance at her, and threw upon her a look which +she did not see. It was a look full of hate and malignancy, while at the +same time there was an expression of satisfaction in his face, as though +he had conceived some new plan, which he intended to keep a secret all +to himself. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +LADY DUDLEIGH'S DECISION. + +During the remainder of that drive nothing was said by either. Sir +Lionel had his own thoughts, which, whatever they were, appeared to give +him a certain satisfaction, and his brow was more unclouded when they +reached the inn than it had been ever since the day of the trial. +Evidently the new design which he had conceived, and which remained +unuttered in his mind, was very satisfactory to him. + +That evening he himself began the conversation with Lady Dudleigh, a +thing which he had not before done. + +"It's all very well," said he, "for you to carry on your own plans. You +may carry them on and welcome. I won't prevent you; in fact, I can't. +It's no use to deny it; I'm in your power. You're determined to crush +me, and I must be crushed, I suppose. You are going to show to the +world the strange spectacle of a wife and a son rising up against a +husband and father, and swearing his life away. You will lead on, and +Reginald will follow. This is the education that you have given him--it +is to end in parricide. Very well; I must submit. Wife, slay your +husband! mother, lead your son to parricide! Of course you comfort your +conscience with the plea that you are doing justice. In the French +Revolution there were wives who denounced their husbands, and sons who +denounced their fathers, in the name of 'humanity,' and for the good of +the republic. So go on. See that justice be done. Come on yourself to +assassinate your husband, and bring on your parricide! Take sides with +those who have murdered your son--the son whom you bore to me, and once +loved! Unsex yourself, and become a Fury! It is useless for me to make +resistance, I suppose; and yet, woman! wife! mother! let me tell you +that on the day when you attempt to do these things, and when your son +stands by your side to help you, there will go up a cry of horror +against you from outraged humanity!" + +At this Lady Dudleigh looked at him, who, as usual, averted his eyes; +but she made no reply. + +"Bring him on!" said Sir Lionel--"your son--my son--the parricide! Do +your worst. But at the same time allow me to inform you, in the mildest +manner in the world, that if I am doomed, there is no reason why I +should go mad in this infernal hole. What is more, I do not intend to +stay here one single day longer. I'm not going to run away. That is +impossible; you keep too sharp a look-out altogether. I'm simply going +away from this place of horrors, and I rather think I'll go home. I'll +go home--yes, home. Home is the place for me--Dudleigh Manor, where I +first took you, my true wife--that is the place for me to be in when you +come to me, you and your son, to hand me over, Judas-like, to death. +Yes, I'm going home, and if you choose to accompany me, why, all that I +can say is, I'll have to bear it." + +"I'll go," said Lady Dudleigh, laconically. + +"Oh, of course," said Sir Lionel, "quite a true wife; like Ruth and +Naomi. Whither thou goest, I will go. You see, I'm up in my Bible. Well, +as I said, I can not prevent you, and I suppose there is no need for me +to tell you to get ready." + +Whether under these bitter taunts Lady Dudleigh writhed or not did not +at all appear. She seemed as cool and calm as ever. Perhaps she had so +schooled her nature that she was able to repress all outward signs of +emotion, or perhaps she had undergone so much that a taunt could have no +sting for her, or perhaps she had already contemplated and familiarized +herself with all these possible views of her conduct to such an extent +that the mention of them created no emotion. At any rate, whatever she +felt, Sir Lionel saw nothing. + +Having discharged this shot, Sir Lionel went to his desk, and taking out +writing materials, began to write a letter. He wrote rapidly, and once +or twice glanced furtively at Lady Dudleigh, as though he was fearful +that she might overlook his writing. But there was no danger of that. +Lady Dudleigh did not move from her place. She did not seem to be aware +that he was writing at all. + +At length Sir Lionel finished, and then he folded, sealed, and addressed +the letter. He finished this task with a face of supreme satisfaction, +and stole a look toward Lady Dudleigh, in which there was a certain +cunning triumph very visible, though it was not seen by the one at whom +it was directed. + +"And now," said he, waving the letter somewhat ostentatiously, and +speaking in a formal tone, in which there was an evident sneer--"and +now, Lady Dudleigh, I have the honor to inform you that I intend to go +out and post this letter. May I have the honor of your company as far as +the post-office, and back?" + +Lady Dudleigh rose in silence, and hastily throwing on her things, +prepared to follow him. Sir Lionel waited with mocking politeness, +opened the door, for her to pass out first, and then in company with her +went to the post-office, where he mailed the letter, and returned with +the smile of satisfaction still upon his face. + +Early on the next morning Lady Dudleigh saw her son. He had watched all +that night by Dalton's bedside, and seemed pale and exhausted. + +"Reginald," said Lady Dudleigh, "Sir Lionel is going away." + +"Going away?" repeated Reginald, absently. + +"Yes; back to Dudleigh Manor." + +Reginald looked inquiringly at his mother, but said nothing. + +"I intend," said Lady Dudleigh, "to go with him." + +"You?" + +"Yes." + +Reginald looked at her mournfully. + +"Have you done any thing with him yet?" he asked. + +Lady Dudleigh shook her head. + +"Do you expect to do any thing?" + +"I do." + +"I'm afraid you will be disappointed." + +"I hope not. I have at least gained a hold upon him, and I have +certainly worked upon his fears. If I remain with him now I hope in time +to extort from him that confession which will save us all from an +additional sorrow; one perhaps as terrible as any we have ever known, if +not even more so." + +"Confession!" repeated Reginald. "How is that possible? He will never +confess--never. If he has remained silent so long, and has not been +moved by the thought of all that he has done, what possible thing can +move him? Nothing but the actual presence of the law. Nothing but +force." + +"Well," said Lady Dudleigh, "it is worth trying--the other alternative +is too terrible just yet. I hope to work upon his fears. I hope to +persuade him to confess, and fly from the country to some place of +safety. Frederick must be righted at all hazards, and I hope to show +this so plainly to Sir Lionel that he will acquiesce in _my_ +proposal, confess all, save Frederick, and then fly to some place where +he may be safe. If not, why, then we can try the last resort. But oh, +Reginald, do you not see how terrible that last resort is?--I against my +husband, you against your father--both of us bringing him to the +gallows! It is only the intolerable sense of Frederick's long-sufferings +that can make me think of doing so terrible a thing. But Frederick is +even now in danger. He must be saved; and the question is between the +innocent and the guilty. I am strong enough to decide differently from +what I did ten years ago." + +"Oh, I know--I feel it all, mother dear," said Reginald; "but at the +same time I don't like the idea of your going away with him--alone." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't like the idea of your putting yourself in his power." + +"His power?" + +"Yes, in Dudleigh Manor, or any other place. He is desperate. He will +not shrink from any thing that he thinks may save him from this danger. +You will be his chief danger; he may think of getting rid of it. He is +unscrupulous, and would stop at nothing." + +"Oh, as for that, he may be desperate, but what can he possibly do? +Dudleigh Manor is in the world. It is not in some remote place where the +master is superior to law. He can do no more harm there than he can +here." + +"The man," said Reginald, "who for all these years has outraged honor +and justice and truth, and has stifled his own conscience for the sake +of his comfort, must by this time be familiar with desperate deeds, and +be capable of any crime. I am afraid, mother dear, for you to trust +yourself with him." + +"Reginald," said Lady Dudleigh, "you speak as though I were a child or a +schoolgirl. Does he seem now as though he could harm me, or do I seem to +be one who can easily be put down? Would you be afraid to go with him?" + +"I--afraid? That is the very thing that I wish to propose." + +"But you could not possibly have that influence over him which I have. +You might threaten, easily enough, and come to an open rupture, but that +is what I wish to avoid. I wish to bring him to a confession, not so +much by direct threats as by various constraining moral influences." + +"Oh, as to that," said Reginald, "I have no doubt that you will do far +better than I can; but at the same time I can not get rid of a fear +about your safety." + +"And do you really think, Reginald, that I would be less safe than you? +or, from what you know of me, should you suppose that I have much of +that woman's weakness about me which might make me an easy prey to one +who wished to do me harm?" + +"I know well what you are, mother dear," said Reginald, taking her hand +tenderly in both of his. "You have the tenderness of a woman and the +courage of a man; but still I feel uneasy. At any rate, promise me one +thing. You will let me know what you are doing." + +"I do not promise to write regularly," said Lady Dudleigh, "but I do +promise to write the moment that any thing happens worth writing about." + +"And if you are ill, or in danger?" said Reginald, anxiously. + +"Oh, then, of course I shall write at once. But now I must go. I shall +not see you again for some time. Good-by." + +Lady Dudleigh kissed her son tenderly as she said this, and left him, +and Reginald returned to his place by Fredrick Dalton's bedside. + +That same day, shortly after this interview, Sir Lionel and Lady +Dudleigh drove away from the inn, _en route_ for Dudleigh Manor. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +LADY DUDLEIGH IS SHOWN TO HER ROOM. + +After driving for about a mile Sir Lionel and Lady Dudleigh took the +train, securing a compartment to themselves. + +During this part of the journey Sir Lionel's face lost much of that +gloom which of late had pervaded it, and assumed an expression which was +less dismal, though not quite like the old one. The old look was one of +serene and placid content, an air of animal comfort, and of easy-going +self-indulgence; but now the expression was more restless and excited. +There was a certain knowing look--a leer of triumphant cunning--combined +with a tendency to chuckle over some secret purpose which no one else +knew. Together with this there was incessant restlessness; he appeared +perpetually on the look-out, as though dreading discovery; and he +alternated between exultant nods of his head, with knowing winks at +vacancy, and sudden sharp furtive glances at his companion. Changed as +Sir Lionel's mood was, it can hardly be said that the change was for the +better. It would have been obvious even to a more superficial observer +than that vigilant "keeper" who accompanied him that Sir Lionel had lost +his self-poise, and was in rather a dangerous way. Lady Dudleigh must +have noticed this; but it made no difference to her, save that there was +perhaps a stonier lustre in her eyes as she turned them upon him, and a +sharper vigilance in her attitude. + +In this way they rode on for several hours; and whatever Sir Lionel's +plans might have been, they certainly did not involve any action during +the journey. Had he been sufficiently violent he might have made an +assault upon his companion in the seclusion of that compartment, and +effectually prevented any trouble ever arising to him from her. He might +have done this, and made good his escape in the confusion of some +station. But no such attempt was made; and so in due time they reached +the place where they were to get out. + +"This is the nearest station to Dudleigh Manor," said Sir Lionel, gayly. +"This road has been made since your time." + +Lady Dudleigh said nothing, but looked around. She saw nothing that was +familiar. A neat wayside station, with the usual platform, was nearest; +and beyond this arose trees which concealed the view on one side, while +on the other there were fields and hedges, and one or two houses in the +distance. It was a commonplace scene, in a level sort of country, and +Lady Dudleigh, after one short survey, thought no more about it. It was +just like any other wayside station. + +A common-looking hack, with a rather ill-dressed driver, was waiting, +and toward this Sir Lionel walked. + +"This," said he, "is the Dudleigh coach. It isn't so grand an affair as +it used to be; but my means have dwindled a good deal since your day, +you know, and I have to economize--yes--ha, ha, ha!--economize--queer +thing too, isn't it? Economizing--ha, ha, ha!" + +Sir Lionel's somewhat flighty manner was not at all congenial to Lady +Dudleigh, and she treated him as the vigilant "keeper" always treats his +flighty prisoner--that is, with silent patience and persistent +watchfulness. + +In a few minutes they were both seated inside the coach, and were +driving away. The coach was a gloomy one, with windows only in the +doors. The rest was solid woodwork. These windows in the doors were +small, and when let down were scarcely large enough for one to put his +head through. When sitting down it was impossible for Lady Dudleigh to +see the road. She could see nothing but the tops of the trees, between +which the sky appeared occasionally. She saw that she was driving along +a road which was shaded with trees on both sides; but more than this she +could not see. + +They drove for about an hour at a moderate pace, and during this time +Sir Lionel preserved that same peculiar demeanor which has already been +described, while Lady Dudleigh maintained her usual silent watchfulness. + +At length they stopped for a moment. Voices sounded outside, and then +Lady Dudleigh saw that she was passing through a gateway. Thinking that +this was Dudleigh Manor, she made no remark, but calmly awaited the time +when she should reach the house. She did not have to wait long. Sooner +than she expected the coach stopped. The driver got down and opened the +door. Sir Lionel sprang out with surprising agility, and held out his +hand politely to assist his companion. She did not accept his offer, but +stepped out without assistance, and looked around. + +To her surprise, the place was not Dudleigh Manor at all, but one which +was entirely different, and quite unfamiliar. It was a brick house of no +very great size, though larger than most private houses, of plain +exterior, and with the air of a public building of some sort. The +grounds about were stiff and formal and forbidding. The door was open, +and one or two men were standing there. It did not look like an inn, and +yet it certainly was not a private residence. + +"I have to stop here for a little while," said Sir Lionel, "to see a +friend on business. We are not half-way to Dudleigh Manor yet; it's +further than you think." + +He turned and went up the steps. Lady Dudleigh looked around once more, +and then followed him. The men at the head of the steps looked at her +curiously as she went in. She took no notice of them, however, but +walked past them, looking calmly beyond them. + +On entering the house she saw a bare hall covered with slate-colored +oil-cloth, and with a table against the wall. A gray-headed man came out +of one of the rooms, and advanced to meet Sir Lionel, who shook hands +with him very cordially, and whispered to him a few words. The +gray-headed man wore spectacles, was clean shaven, with a double chin, +and a somewhat sleek and oily exterior. + +"Lady Dudleigh," said Sir Lionel, leading the gray-headed man forward by +the arm, "allow me to make you acquainted with my particular friend, Dr. +Leonard Morton." + +Lady Dudleigh bowed slightly, and Dr. Morton made a profound obeisance +that seemed like a caricature of politeness. + +"Will you have the kindness to walk up stairs?" said he, and led the +way, while the others followed him. Ascending the stairs, they reached a +large room at the back of the house, which was furnished in the same +stiff and formal way as the hall below. Over the mantel-piece hung an +engraving, somewhat faded out, and on the table were a Bible and a +pitcher of water. + +The doctor politely handed Lady Dudleigh a chair, and made one or two +remarks about the weather. + +"Sir Lionel," said he, "if Lady Dudleigh will excuse us for a few +moments, I should like to speak with you in private." + +"Will you have the kindness, Lady Dudleigh," asked Sir Lionel, "to +excuse us for a few moments? We shall not leave you long alone. And here +is a book--an invaluable book--with which you may occupy your time." + +He said this with such exaggerated politeness, and with such a cunning +leer in his eyes, that his tone and manner were most grotesque; and as +he concluded he took up the large Bible with ridiculous solemnity. + +Lady Dudleigh merely bowed in silence. + +"A thousand thanks," said Sir Lionel, turning away; and thereupon he +left the room, followed by the doctor. Lady Dudleigh heard their +footsteps descending the stairs, and then they seemed to go into some +room. + +For some time she forgot all about him. The place had at first +surprised her, but she gave it little thought. She had too much to think +of. She had before her a task which seemed almost impossible; and if she +failed in this, there was before her that dread alternative which Sir +Lionel had presented to her so plainly. Other things too there were +besides her husband--connected with all who were dearest to her--her +brother, perhaps, dying before he had accomplished his work; her son so +mysteriously murdered; her other son awaiting her command to assist in +bringing his father to death. Besides, there was the danger that even +now might be impending over these--the danger of discovery. Sir +Lionel's desperate threats might have some meaning, and who could tell +how it might result if he sought to carry out those threats? + +Brooding over such thoughts as these, she forgot about the lapse of +time, and at last was roused to herself by the entrance of a woman. She +was large and coarse and fat. + +At the door stood another woman. + +"Your room's ready, missus," said the woman, bluntly. + +Lady Dudleigh rose. + +"I don't want a room," said she. "I intend to go in a few minutes." + +"Anyway, ye'd better come to your room now, and not keep us waitin'," +said the woman. + +"You needn't wait," said Lady Dudleigh. + +"Come along," said the woman, impatiently. "It's no use stayin' here +all day." + +Lady Dudleigh felt annoyed at this insolence, and began to think that +Sir Lionel had run away while she had forgotten about him. She said +nothing to the women, but walked toward the door. The two stood there in +the way. + +"I will go down," said she, haughtily, "and wait below. Go and tell Sir +Lionel." + +The women stared at one another. + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS DRAGGED ALONG HELPLESSLY."] + +"Sir Lionel Dudleigh," said Lady Dudleigh, "is with Dr. Morton on +business. Tell him that I am tired of waiting, or take me to the room +where he is." + +"Oh yes, 'm," said one of the women; and saying this, she went down +stairs. + +In a few moments Dr. Morton came up, followed by the women. The two men +who had been standing at the door came into the hall, and stood there at +the foot of the stairs. + +"Where is Sir Lionel?" was Lady Dudleigh's first words. + +The doctor smiled blandly. + +"Well, he has just gone, you know; but he'll soon be back--oh yes, quite +soon. You wait here, and you may go to your room." + +He spoke in an odd, coaxing tone, as though he were addressing some +fretful child whom it was desirable to humor. + +"Gone!" exclaimed Lady Dudleigh. + +"Yes, but he'll soon be back. You needn't wait long. And these women +will take you to your own room. You'll find it very pleasant." + +"I have no room here," said Lady Dudleigh, haughtily. "If Sir Lionel has +gone, I shall go too;" and with these words she tried to move past the +woman who was in front of her. But the woman would not move, and the +other woman and the doctor stood there looking at her. All at once the +truth dawned upon her, or a part of the truth. She had been brought +here, and they would keep her here. Who they were she could not imagine, +but their faces were not at all prepossessing. + +"Oh, it's all right," said the doctor, in a smooth voice. "You shall go +to-morrow. We'll send for Sir Lionel." + +"Dr. Morton," said Lady Dudleigh, solemnly, "beware how you detain me. +Let me go, or you shall repent it. I don't know what your motive is, but +it will be a dangerous thing for you. I am Lady Dudleigh, and if you +dare to interfere with my movements you shall suffer." + +"Oh yes, oh yes," said the doctor. "You are Lady Dudleigh. Oh, of +course. And now come, Lady Dudleigh; you shall be treated just like a +lady, and have a nice room, and--" + +"What do you mean?" cried Lady Dudleigh, indignantly. "This insolence is +insufferable." + +"Oh yes," said the doctor; "it'll be all right, you know. Come, now; go +like a good lady to your room." + +"Are you mad?" exclaimed Lady Dudleigh, in amazement. + +The doctor smiled and nodded. + +"What do you intend to do?" asked Lady Dudleigh, restraining herself +with a strong effort. + +"Oh, nothing; we shall put you in a nice room, you know--all so +pleasant--for you are not very well; and so. Susan, you just take the +lady's hand, and, Martha, you take the other, and we'll show her the way +to her room." + +At this each of the women seized one of Lady Dudleigh's hands quickly +and dextrously, the result of long practice, and then they drew her out +of the room. Lady Dudleigh resisted, but her strength was useless. She +was dragged along helplessly, while all the time the doctor walked after +her, prattling in his usual way about "the nice room," and how +"comfortable" she would find it. At length they reached a room, and she +was taken in. One of the women entered with her. Lady Dudleigh looked +around, and saw that the walls were bare and whitewashed; the floor was +uncarpeted; an iron bedstead and some simple furniture were around her, +and a small grated window gave light. + +It looked dreary enough, and sufficiently prison-like to appall any one +who might be thus suddenly thrust in there. Lady Dudleigh sank into a +chair exhausted, and the woman began to make her bed. + +"My good woman," said Lady Dudleigh, anxious to get some clue to her +position, "can you tell me what all this means?" + +"Sure it's all for the good of your health," said the woman. + +"But I'm not ill." + +"No, not to say ill; but the body's often all right when the mind's all +wrong." + +"The mind? There's nothing the matter with my mind. Dr. Morton has been +deceived. He would not dare to do this if he knew it." + +"Sure, now, it's nothing at all, and you'll be well soon." + +At these simple words of the woman Lady Dudleigh began to understand the +situation. This must be a lunatic asylum, a private one. Sir Lionel had +brought her here, and told the doctor that she was insane. The doctor +had accepted his statement, and had received her as such. This at once +accounted for his peculiar mode of addressing her. + +"There's a mistake," said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. "Dr. Morton has been +deceived. Let me see him at once, please, and I will explain. He does +not know what a wrong he is doing. My good woman, I am no more mad than +you are." + +"Dear, dear!" said the woman, going on placidly with her work; "that's +the way they all talk. There's not one of them that believes they're +mad." + +"But I'm not mad at all," said Lady Dudleigh, indignant at the woman's +obtuseness. + +"There, there; don't you go for to excite yourself," said the woman, +soothingly. "But I s'pose you can't help it." + +"So this is a mad-house, is it?" said Lady Dudleigh, gloomily, after a +pause. + +"Well, 'm, we don't call it that; we call it a 'sylum. It's Dr. Morton's +'sylum." + +"Now see here," said Lady Dudleigh, making a fresh effort, and trying to +be as cool as possible, "I am Lady Dudleigh. I have been brought here by +a trick. Dr. Morton is deceived. He is committing a crime in detaining +me. I am not mad. Look at me. Judge for yourself. Look at me, and say, +do I look like a madwoman?" + +The woman, thus appealed to, good-naturedly acquiesced, and looked at +Lady Dudleigh. + +"'Deed," she remarked, "ye look as though ye've had a deal of sufferin' +afore ye came here, an' I don't wonder yer mind give way." + +"Do I look like a madwoman?" repeated Lady Dudleigh, with a sense of +intolerable irritation at this woman's stupidity. + +"'Deed, then, an' I'm no judge. It's the doctor that decides." + +"But what do you say? Come, now." + +"Well, then, ye don't look very bad, exceptin' the glare an' glitter of +the eyes of ye, an' yer fancies." + +"Fanciest? What fancies?" + +"Why, yer fancies that ye're Lady Dudleigh, an' all that about Sir +Lionel." + +Lady Dudleigh started to her feet. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Why, I am Lady Dudleigh." + +"There, there!" said the woman, soothingly; "sure I forgot myself. Sure +ye are Lady Dudleigh, or any body else ye like. It's a dreadful +inveiglin' way ye have to trap a body the way ye do." + +At this Lady Dudleigh was in despair. No further words were of any +avail. The woman was determined to humor her, and assented to every +thing she said. This treatment was so intolerable that Lady Dudleigh was +afraid to say any thing for fear that she would show the excitement of +her feelings, and such an exhibition would of course have been +considered as a fresh proof of her madness. + +The woman at length completed her task, and retired. + +Lady Dudleigh was left alone. She knew it all now. She remembered the +letter which Sir Lionel had written. In that he had no doubt arranged +this plan with Dr. Morton, and the coach had been ready at the station. +But in what part of the country this place was she had no idea, nor +could she know whether Dr. Morton was deceived by Sir Lionel, or was his +paid employé in this work of villainy. His face did not give her any +encouragement to hope for either honesty or mercy from him. + +It was an appalling situation, and she knew it. All the horrors that she +had ever heard of in connection with private asylums occurred to her +mind, and deepened the terror that surrounded her. All the other cares +of her life--the sorrow of bereavement, the anxiety for the sick, the +plans for Frederick Dalton--all these and many others now oppressed her +till her brain sank under the crushing weight. A groan of anguish burst +from her. + +"Sir Lionel's mockery will become a reality," she thought. "I shall go +mad!" + +Meanwhile Sir Lionel had gone away. Leaving Lady Dudleigh in the room, +he had gone down stairs, and after a few hurried words with the doctor, +he left the house and entered the coach, which drove back to the +station. + +All the way he was in the utmost glee, rubbing his hands, slapping his +thighs, chuckling to himself, laughing and cheering. + +"Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!" he laughed. "Outwitted! The keeper--the +keeper caught! Ha, ha, ha! Why, she'll never get out--never! In for +life, Lionel, my boy! Mad! Why, by this time she's a raving maniac! Ha, +ha, ha! She swear against me! Who'd believe a madwoman, an idiot, a +lunatic, a bedlamite, a maniac--a howling, frenzied, gibbering, ranting, +raving, driveling, maundering, mooning maniac! And now for the boy +next--the parricide! Ha, ha, ha! Arrest him! No. Shut him up +here--both--with my friend Morton--both of them, mother and son, the +two--ha, ha, ha!--witnesses! One maniac! two maniacs! and then I shall +go mad with joy, and come here to live, and there shall be _three +maniacs_! Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha-a-a-a-a-a-a!" + +Sir Lionel himself seemed mad now. + +On leaving the coach, however, he became calmer, and taking the first +train that came up, resumed his journey. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +THE BEDSIDE OF DALTON. + +Frederick Dalton remained in his prostrate condition, with no apparent +change either for the better or for the worse, and thus a month passed. + +One morning Dudleigh requested an interview with Edith. + +On entering the room he greeted her with his usual deep respect. + +[Illustration: "THEIR HANDS TOUCHED."] + +"I hope you will excuse me for troubling you, Miss Dalton," he said, +"but I wish very much to ask your opinion about your father. He +remains, as you know, unchanged, and this inn is not the place for him. +The air is close, the place is noisy, and it is impossible for him to +have that perfect quiet which he so greatly needs. Dudleigh Manor is too +far away, but there is another place close by. I am aware, Miss Dalton, +that Dalton Hall must be odious to you, and therefore I hesitate to ask +you to take your father to that place. Yet he ought to go there, and at +once. As for yourself, I hope that the new circumstances under which you +will live there will make it less unpleasant; and, let me add, for my +own part, it shall be my effort to see that you, who have been so deeply +wronged, shall be righted--with all and before all. As to myself," he +continued, "I would retire, and relieve you of my presence, which can +not be otherwise than painful, but there are two reasons why I ought to +remain. The first is your father. You yourself are not able to take all +the care of him, and there is no other who can share it except myself. +Next to yourself, no one can be to him what I am, nor is there any one +with whom I would be willing to leave him. He must not be left to a +servant. He must be nursed by those who love him. And so I must stay +with him wherever he is. In addition to this, however, my presence at +Dalton Hall will effectually quell the vulgar clamor, and all the rumors +that have been prevailing for the last few months will be silenced." + +Dudleigh spoke all this calmly and seriously, but beneath his words +there was something in his tone which conveyed a deeper meaning. That +tone was more than respectful--it was almost reverential--as though the +one to whom he spoke required from him more than mere courtesy. In spite +of his outward calm, there was also an emotion in his voice which showed +that the calm was assumed, and that beneath it lay something which could +not be all concealed. In his eyes, as he fixed them on Edith, there was +that same reverential regard, which seemed to speak of devotion and +loyalty; something stronger than admiration, something deeper than +sympathy, was expressed from them. And yet it was this that he himself +tried to conceal. It was as though this feeling of his burst forth +irrepressibly through all concealment, as though the intensity of this +feeling made even his calmest words and commonest formulas fall of a new +and deeper meaning. + +In that reverence and profound devotion thus manifest there was nothing +which could be otherwise than grateful to Edith. Certainly she could not +take offense, for his words and his looks afforded nothing which could +by any possibility give rise to that. + +For a whole month this man had been before her, a constant attendant on +her father, sleeping his few hours in an adjoining chamber, with scarce +a thought beyond that prostrate friend. All the country had been +searched for the best advice or the best remedies, and nothing had been +omitted which untiring affection could suggest. During all this time +she had scarce seen him. In the delicacy of his regard for her he had +studiously kept out of her way, as though unwilling to allow his +presence to give her pain. A moment might occasionally be taken up with +a few necessary arrangements as she would enter, but that was all. He +patiently waited till she retired before he ventured to come in himself. + +No; in that noble face, pale from illness or from sadness, with the +traces of sorrow upon it, and the marks of long vigils by the bedside of +her father--in that refined face, whose expression spoke only of +elevation of soul, and exhibited the perfect type of manly beauty, there +was certainly nothing that could excite repugnance, but every thing that +might inspire confidence. + +Edith saw all this, and remarked it while listening to him; and she +thought she had never seen any thing so pure in its loyalty, so profound +in its sympathy, and so sweet in its sad grace as that face which was +now turned toward her with its eloquent eyes. + +She did not say much. A few words signified her assent to the proposal. +Dudleigh said that he would make all the necessary arrangements, and +that she should have no trouble whatever. With this he took his +departure. + +That same evening another visitor came. It was a pale, slender girl, +who gave her name as Lucy Ford. She said that she had been sent by +Captain Dudleigh. She heard that Edith had no maid, and wished to get +that situation. Edith hesitated for a moment. Could she accept so +direct a favor from Dudleigh, or give him that mark of confidence? Her +hesitation was over at once. She could give him that, and she accepted +the maid. The next day came a housekeeper and two or three others, all +sent by Dudleigh, all of whom were accepted by her. For Dudleigh had +found out somehow the need of servants at Dalton Hall, and had taken +this way of supplying that prime requisite. + +It then remained to move Dalton. He still continued in the same +condition, not much changed physically, but in a state of mental torpor, +the duration of which no one was able to foretell. Two short stages were +required to take him to Dalton Hall. For this a litter was procured, and +he was carried all the way. Edith went, with her maid and housekeeper, +in a carriage, Dudleigh on horseback, and the other servants, with the +luggage, in various conveyances. + +Dalton received no benefit from his journey, but his friends were happy +enough that he had received no injury. The medical attendance at Dalton +Hall was, as before, the best that could be obtained, and all the care +that affection could suggest was lavished upon him. + +From what has already been said, it will be seen that in making this +migration to Dalton Hall, Dudleigh was regardful of many things besides +the patient. He had made every arrangement for the comfort of the +occupants. He had sought out all the domestics that were necessary to +diffuse an air of home over such a large establishment, and had been +careful to submit them to Edith for her approval. He had also procured +horses and grooms and carriages, and every thing that might conduce to +the comfort of life. The old solitude and loneliness were thus +terminated. The new housekeeper prevented Edith from feeling any anxiety +about domestic concerns, and the servants all showed themselves well +trained and perfectly subordinate. + +Dalton's room was at the west end of the building. Edith occupied her +old apartments. Dudleigh took that which had belonged to his "double." +The housekeeper took the room that had been occupied by Lady Dudleigh. + +Dudleigh was as devoted as ever to the sick man. He remained at his +bedside through the greater part of the nights and through the mornings. +In the afternoons he retired as before, and gave place to Edith. When +he was there he sometimes had a servant upon whom he could rely, and +then, if he felt unusual fatigue, and circumstances were favorable, he +was able to snatch a little sleep. He usually went to bed at two in the +afternoon, rose at seven, and in that brief sleep, with occasional naps +during the morning, obtained enough to last him for the day. With this +rest he was satisfied, and needed, or at least sought for, no +recreation. During the hours of the morning he was able to attend to +those outside duties that required overseeing or direction. + +But while he watched in this way over the invalid, he was not a mere +watcher. That invalid required, after all, but little at the hands of +his nurses, and Dudleigh had much to do. + +On his arrival at Dalton Hall he had possessed himself of all the papers +that his "double" had left behind him, and these he diligently studied, +so as to be able to carry out with the utmost efficiency the purpose +that he had in his mind. It was during the long watches of the night +that he studied these papers, trying to make out from them the manner of +life and the associates of the one who had left them, trying also to +arrive at some clew to his mysterious disappearance. This study he +could keep up without detriment to his office of attendant, and while +watching over the invalid he could carry out his investigations. +Sometimes, in the afternoons, after indulging in more frequent naps than +usual during the mornings, he was able to go out for a ride about the +grounds. He was a first-rate horseman, and Edith noticed his admirable +seat as she looked from the windows of her father's room. + +Thus time went on. + +Gradually Dudleigh and Edith began to occupy a different position toward +one another. At the inn their relations were as has been shown. But +after their arrival at Dalton Hall there occurred a gradual change. + +As Edith came to the room on the first day, Dudleigh waited. On entering +she saw his eyes fixed on her with an expression of painful suspense, of +earnest, eager inquiry. In that eloquent appealing glance all his soul +seemed to beam from his eyes. It was reverent, it was almost humble, yet +it looked for some small concession. May I hope? it said. Will you give +a thought to me? See, I stand here, and I hang upon your look. Will you +turn away from me? + +Edith did not repel that mute appeal. There was that in her face which +broke down Dudleigh's reserve. He advanced toward her and held out his +hand. She did not reject it. + +It was but a commonplace thing to do--it was what might have been done +before--yet between these two it was far from common-place. Their hands +touched, their eyes met, but neither spoke a word. It was but a light +grasp that Dudleigh gave. Reverentially, yet tenderly, he took that +hand, not venturing to go beyond what might be accorded to the merest +stranger, but contenting himself with that one concession. With that he +retired, carrying with him the remembrance of that nearer approach, and +the hope of what yet might be. + +After that the extreme reserve was broken down. Each day, on meeting, a +shake of the hands was accompanied by something more. Between any +others these greetings would have been the most natural thing in the +world; but here it was different. There was one subject in which each +took the deepest interest, and about which each had something to say. +Frederick Dalton's health was precious to each, and each felt anxiety +about his condition. This formed a theme about which they might speak. + +As Dudleigh waited for Edith, so Edith waited for Dudleigh; and still +there were the same questions to be asked and answered. Standing thus +together in that sick-room, with one life forming a common bond between +them, conversing in low whispers upon one so dear to both, it would have +been strange indeed if any thing like want of confidence had remained on +either side. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +A BETTER UNDERSTANDING. + +Dudleigh lived on as before, assiduous in his attendance, dividing his +time chiefly between nursing and study of the papers already mentioned. +He never went out of the grounds on those occasional rides, and if any +one in the neighborhood noticed this, the recent sad events might have +been considered an excuse. Thus these two were thrown upon one another +exclusively. For each there was no other society. As for Edith, Dudleigh +had done so much that she felt a natural gratitude; and more than this, +there was in her mind a sense of security and of dependence. + +Meanwhile Dudleigh's pale face grew paler. His sleep had all along been +utterly inadequate, and the incessant confinement had begun to show its +effects. He had been accustomed to an open-air life and vigorous +exercise. This quiet watching at the bedside of Dalton was more trying +to his strength than severe labor could have been. + +The change in him was not lost on Edith, and even if gratitude toward +him had been wanting, common humanity would have impelled her to speak +about it. + +One day, as she came in, she was struck by his appearance. His face was +ghastly white, and he had been sitting with his head in his hands as she +softly entered. In an instant, as he heard her step, he started up, and +advanced with a radiant smile, a smile caused by her approach. + +"I'm afraid that you are overtasking yourself," said Edith, gently, +after the usual greeting. "You are here too much. The confinement is +too trying. You must take more rest and exercise." + +Dudleigh's face was suffused with a sudden glow of delight. + +"It is kind of you to notice it," said he, earnestly, "but I'm sure you +are mistaken. I could do far more if necessary. This is my place, and +this is my truest occupation." + +"For that very reason," said Edith, in tones that showed more concern +than she would have cared to acknowledge--"for that very reason you +ought to preserve yourself--for his sake. You confine yourself here too +much, and take too little rest. I see that you feel it already." + +"I?" said Dudleigh, with a light laugh, whose musical cadence sounded +very sweet to Edith, and revealed to her another side of his character +very different from that sad and melancholy one which he had thus far +shown--"I? Why, you have no idea of my capacity for this sort of thing. +Excuse me, Miss Dalton, but it seems absurd to talk of my breaking down +under such work as this." + +Edith shook her head. + +"You show traces of it," said she, in a gentle voice, looking away from +him, "which common humanity would compel me to notice. You must not do +all the work; I must have part of it." + +"_You?_" exclaimed Dudleigh, with infinite tenderness in his tone. +"Do you think that I would allow _you_ to spend any more time here +than you now do, or that I would spare myself at the expense of +_your_ health? Never! Aside from the fact that your father is so +dear to me, there are considerations for you which would lead me to die +at my post rather than allow you to have any more trouble." + +There was a fervor in Dudleigh's tones which penetrated to Edith's +heart. There was a deep glow in his eyes as he looked at her which Edith +did not care to encounter. + +"You are of far more importance to Sir Lionel than I am," said she, +after a pause which began to be embarrassing. "But what will become of +him if--if you are prostrated?" + +"I shall not be prostrated," said Dudleigh. + +"I think you will if this state of things continues." + +"Oh, I don't think there is any prospect of my giving up just yet." + +"No. I know your affection for him, and that it would keep you here +until--until you could not stay any longer; and it is this which I wish +to avoid." + +"It is my duty," said Dudleigh. "He is one whom I revere more than any +other man, and love as a father. Besides, there are other things that +bind me to him--his immeasurable wrongs, his matchless patience--wrongs +inflicted by one who is my father; and I, as the son, feel it a holy +duty, the holiest of all duties, to stand by that bedside and devote +myself to him. He is your father, Miss Dalton, but you have never known +him as I have known him--the soul of honor, the stainless gentleman, the +ideal of chivalry and loyalty and truth. This he is, and for this he +lies there, and my wretched father it is who has done this deed. But +that father is a father only in name, and I have long ago transferred a +son's love and a son's duty to that gentle and noble and injured +friend." + +This outburst of feeling came forth from Dudleigh's inmost heart, and +was spoken with a passionate fervor which showed how deeply he felt what +he said. Every word thrilled through Edith. Bitter self-reproach at that +moment came to her, as she thought of her own relations to her father. +What Dudleigh's had been she did not know, but she saw that in him her +father had found a son. And what had his daughter been to him? Of that +she dared not think. Her heart was wrung with sharp anguish at the +memories of the past, while at the same time she felt drawn more closely +to Dudleigh, who had thus been to him all that she had failed to be. Had +she spoken what she thought, she would have thanked and blessed him for +those words. But she did not dare to trust herself to speak of that; +rather she tried to restrain herself; and when she spoke, it was with a +strong effort at this self-control. + +"Well," she said, in a voice which was tremulous in spite of all her +efforts, "this shows how dear you must be to him, since he has found +such love in you, and so for his sake you must spare yourself. You must +not stay here so constantly." + +"Who is there to take my place?" asked Dudleigh, quietly. + +"I," said Edith. + +Dudleigh smiled. + +"Do you think," said he, "that I would allow that? Even if I needed more +rest, which I do not, do you think that I would take it at your +expense--that I would go away, enjoy myself, and leave you to bear the +fatigue? No, Miss Dalton; I am not quite so selfish as that." + +"But you will let me stay here more than I do," said Edith, earnestly. +"I may as well be here as in my own room. Will you not let me have half +the care, and occasionally allow you to take rest?" + +She spoke timidly and anxiously, as though she was asking some favor. +And this was the feeling that she had, for it seemed to her that this +man, who had been a son to her father, had more claims on his love, and +a truer right here, than she, the unworthy daughter. + +Dudleigh smiled upon her with infinite tenderness as he replied: + +"Half the care! How could you endure it? You are too delicate for so +much. You do too much already, and I am only anxious to relieve you of +that. I was going to urge you to give up half of the afternoon, and take +it myself." + +"Give up half the afternoon!" cried Edith. "Why, I want to do more." + +"But that is impossible. You are not strong enough," said Dudleigh. "I +fear all the time that you are now overworking yourself. I would never +forgive myself if you received any harm from this." + +"Oh, I am very much stronger than you suppose. Besides, nursing is +woman's work, and would fatigue me far less than you." + +"I can not bear to have you fatigue yourself in any way. You must +not--and I would do far more rather than allow you to have any trouble." + +"But even if my health should suffer, it would not be of much +consequence. So at least let me relieve you of something." + +"Your health?" said Dudleigh, looking at her with an earnest glance; +"your health? Why, that is every thing. Mine is nothing. Can you +suggest such a thing to me as that I should allow any trouble to come to +you? Besides, your delicate health already alarms me. You have not yet +recovered from your illness. You are not capable of enduring fatigue, +and I am always reproaching myself for allowing you to stay here as much +as you do. The Dudleighs have done enough. They have brought the father +to this;" and he pointed mournfully to the bed. "But," he added, in a +tremulous voice, "the daughter should at least be saved, and to have +harm come to her would be worse than death itself--to me." + +Edith was silent for a few moments. Her heart was beating fast. When she +spoke, it was with an effort, and in as calm a voice as possible. + +"Oh," she said, "I am quite recovered. Indeed, I am as well as ever, +and I wish to spend more time here. Will you not let me stay here +longer?" + +"How can I? The confinement would wear you out." + +"It would not be more fatiguing than staying in my own room," persisted +Edith. + +"I'm afraid there would be very much difference," said Dudleigh. "In +your own room you have no particular anxiety, but here you would have +the incessant responsibility of a nurse. You would have to watch your +father, and every movement would give you concern." + +"And this harassing care is what I wish to save you from, and share with +you," said Edith, earnestly. "Will you not consent to this?" + +"To share it with you?" said Dudleigh looking at her with unutterable +tenderness. "To share it with you?" he repeated. "It would be only too +much happiness for me to do so, but not if you are going to overwork +yourself." + +"But I will not," said Edith. "If I do, I can stop. I only ask to be +allowed to come in during the morning, so as to relieve you of some of +your work. You will consent, will you not?" + +Edith asked him this as though Dudleigh had exclusive right here, and +she had none. She could not help feeling as if this was so, and this +feeling arose from those memories which she had of that terrible past, +when she ignorantly hurled at that father's heart words that stung like +the stings of scorpions. Never could she forgive herself for that, and +for this she now humbled herself in this way. Her tone was so pleading +that Dudleigh could refuse no longer. With many deprecatory expressions, +and many warnings and charges, he at last consented to let her divide +the morning attendance with him. She was to come in at eleven o'clock. + +This arrangement was at once acted upon. On the following day Edith +came to her father's room at eleven. Dudleigh had much to ask her, and +much to say to her, about her father's condition. He was afraid that she +was not strong enough. He seemed to half repent his agreement. On the +other hand, Edith assured him most earnestly that she was strong enough, +that she would come here for the future regularly at eleven o'clock, and +urged him to take care of his own health, and seek some recreation by +riding about the grounds. This Dudleigh promised to do in the afternoon, +but just then he seemed in no hurry to go. He lingered on. They talked +in low whispers, with their heads close together. They had much to talk +about; her health, his health, her father's condition--all these had to +be discussed. Thus it was that the last vestiges of mutual reserve +began to be broken down. + +Day succeeded to day, and Edith always came to her father's room in the +morning. At first she always urged Dudleigh to go off and take +exercise, but at length she ceased to urge him. For two or three hours +every day they saw much of one another, and thus associated under +circumstances which enforced the closest intimacy and the strongest +mutual sympathy. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +CAPTAIN CRUIKSHANK. + +While these things were going on, the world outside was not altogether +indifferent to affairs in Dalton Hall. In the village and in the +immediate neighborhood rumor had been busy, and at length the vague +statements of the public voice began to take shape. + +This is what rumor said: Dudleigh is an impostor! + +An impostor, it said. For the true Dudleigh, it asserted, was still +missing. This was not the real man. The remains found in the well had +never been accounted for. Justice had foregone its claims too readily. +The act remained, and the blood of the slain called aloud for vengeance. + +How such a strange report was first started no one knew; but there it +was, and the Dalton mystery remained as obscure as ever. + +Various circumstances contributed to increase the public suspicion. All +men saw that Dudleigh was different from this man, or else he had +greatly changed. For the former was always outside, in the world, while +this man remained secluded and shut up in the Hall. Why did he never +show himself? Why did he surround himself with all this secrecy? This +was the question. + +The servants were eagerly questioned whenever any of them made their +appearance in the village, but as they were all new in the place, their +testimony was of little value. They could only say that he was devoted +to the invalid, and that he called Miss Dalton by that name, and had +called her by that name when he engaged them for her service. + +Soon public opinion took two different forms, and two parties arose. One +of these believed the present Dudleigh to be an impostor; the other, +however, maintained that he was the real man, and that the change in his +character was to be accounted for on the grounds of the terrible +calamities that had resulted from his thoughtlessness, together with his +own repentance for the suffering which he had inflicted. + +Meanwhile the subject of all this excitement and gossip was living in +his own seclusion, quite apart from the outside world. One change, +however, had taken place in his life which required immediate action on +his part. + +A great number of letters had come for "Captain Dudleigh." The receipt +of these gave him trouble. They were reminders of various pecuniary +obligations which had been contracted some time previously. They were, +in short--duns. He had been at Dalton Hall some six weeks before these +interesting letters began to arrive. After that time they came in +clusters, fast and frequent. The examination of these formed no small +part of his occupation when he was alone. + +Some of these letters were jocular in their tone, reminding him of his +chronic impecuniosity, and his well-known impracticability in every +thing relating to money. These jocular letters, however, never failed to +remind him that, as he had made a rich match, there was no reason why he +should not pay his debts, especially as the writers were hard up, and +had waited so long without troubling him. These jocular letters, in +fact, informed him that if a settlement was not made at once, it would +be very much the worse for Dudleigh. + +Others were from old sporting companions, reminding him of bets which +had not been paid, expressing astonishment which was child-like in its +simplicity, and requesting an immediate settlement. These were generally +short, curt, and altogether unpleasant. + +Others were business letters, containing the announcement of notes +falling due. Others were from lawyers, stating the fact that certain +specified claims had been put in their hands for collection, and +requesting early attention. + +All these seemed to come together. Misfortunes, says the proverb, never +come singly, and duns may fairly be reckoned among misfortunes. These +duns, however, troublesome though they were, were one by one got rid of +by the simple and effectual process of payment; for Dudleigh considered +it on the whole safer and better, under these peculiar circumstances, to +pay the money which was demanded than to expose himself to arrest or +lawsuits. + +In connection with these affairs an event occurred which at the time +caused uneasiness, and gave the prospect of future trouble. One day a +gentleman called and sent up his card. It was Captain Cruikshank. The +name Dudleigh recognized as one which had been appended to several +dunning letters of the most importunate kind, and the individual himself +was apparently some sporting friend. + +On going down Dudleigh saw a portly, bald-headed man, with large +whiskers, standing in front of one of the drawing-room windows, looking +out. He seemed midway between a gentleman and a blackleg, being neither +altogether one nor the other. At the noise of Dudleigh's entrance he +turned quickly around, and with a hearty, bluff manner walked up to him +and held out his hand. + +Dudleigh fixed his eyes steadily upon those of the other man, and bowed, +without accepting the proffered hand, appearing not to see it. His whole +mien was full of aristocratic reserve, and cold, repellent distance of +manner, which checked the other in the midst of a full tide of voluble +congratulations into which he had flung himself. Thus interrupted, he +looked confused, stammered, and finally said, + +"'Pon my honor, Dudleigh, you don't appear to be overcordial with an old +friend, that's seen you through so many scrapes as I have." + +"Circumstances," said Dudleigh, "of a very painful character have forced +me to sever myself completely from all my former associates--all, +without exception." + +"Well, of course--as to that, it's all right, I dare say," remarked the +other, from whom Dudleigh never removed his eyes; "but then, you know, +it seems to me that some friends ought to be--a--retained, you know, and +you and I, you know, were always of that sort that we were useful to one +another." + +This was thrown out as a very strong hint on the part of Captain +Cruikshank, and he watched Dudleigh earnestly to see its effect. + +"I make no exceptions whatever," said Dudleigh. "What has occurred to me +is the same as death. I am dead virtually to the world in which I once +lived. My former friends and acquaintances are the same as though I had +never known them." + +[Illustration: "WELL, REALLY--YES, THIS IS IT."] + +"Gad! something has come over you, that's a fact," said Captain +Cruikshank. "You're a changed man, whatever the reason is. Well, you +have a right to choose for yourself, and I can't be offended. At the +same time, if you ever want to join the old set again, let me know, and +I promise you there'll be no difficulty." + +Dudleigh bowed. + +"But then I suppose you're settled down in such infernally comfortable +quarters," continued the other, "that it's not likely you'll ever +trouble us again. Married and done for--that's the word. Plenty of +money, and nothing to do." + +"If you have anything particular to say," said Dudleigh, coldly, "I +should like to hear it; if not, I must excuse myself, as I am +particularly engaged." + +"Oh, no offense, no offense; I merely came to offer an old friend's +congratulations, you know, and--By-the-way," continued Cruikshank, +lowering his voice, "there's that little I O U of yours. I thought +perhaps you might find it convenient to settle, and if so, it would be a +great favor to me." + +"What is the amount?" asked Dudleigh, who remembered this particular +debt perfectly well, since it had been the subject of more than one +letter of a most unpleasant character. + +"The amount?" said Cruikshank. "Well, really--let me see--I don't quite +remember, but I'll find out in a moment." + +With these words he drew forth his pocket-book and fumbled among the +papers. At length he produced one, and tried hard to look as if he had +not known all along perfectly well what that amount was. + +"Well, really--yes, this is it," he remarked, as he looked at a piece of +paper. "The amount, did you say? The amount is just two hundred pounds. +It's not much for you, as you are now situated, I should suppose." + +"Is that the note?" asked Dudleigh, who was anxious to get rid of this +visitor, and suspected all along that he might have a deeper purpose +than the mere collection of a debt. + +"That is the note," said Cruikshank. + +"I will pay it now," said Dudleigh. + +He left the room for a short time, and during his absence Cruikshank +amused himself with staring at the portrait of "Captain Dudleigh," which +hung in a conspicuous position before his eyes. He was not kept long +waiting, for Dudleigh soon returned, and handed him the money. +Cruikshank took it with immense satisfaction, and handed the note over +in return, which Dudleigh carefully transferred to his own pocket-book, +where he kept many other such papers. + +Cruikshank now bade him a very effusive adieu. Dudleigh stood at the +window watching the retreating figure of his visitor. + +"I wonder how long this sort of thing can go on?" he murmured. "I don't +like this acting on the defensive. I'll have to make the attack myself +soon." + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +EDITH'S NEW FRIEND. + +Every day Edith and Dudleigh saw more and more of one another. Now that +the crust of reserve was broken through, and something like intimacy had +been reached, the sick man's apartment was the most natural place for +each to seek. It came at last that the mornings and afternoons were no +longer allotted to each exclusively, but while one watched, the other +would often be present. In the evenings especially the two were together +there. + +The condition in which Dalton was demanded quiet, yet needed but little +direct attention. It was only necessary that some one should be in the +room with him. He lay, as has been said, in a state of stupor, and knew +nothing of what was going on. It was only necessary for those who might +be with him to give him, from time to time, the medicines that had been +prescribed by the physicians, or the nourishment which nature demanded. +Apart from this there was little now to be done. + +While Edith and Dudleigh were thus together, they were naturally +dependent exclusively upon one another. This association seemed not +unpleasant to either of them; every day it gained a new charm; and at +length both came to look forward to this as the chief pleasure of their +lives. For Edith there was no other companion than Dudleigh in Dalton +Hall with whom she could associate on equal terms; he had strong claims +now on her confidence, and even on her gratitude; and while he was thus +the only one to whom she could look for companionship, she also bore the +same relation to him. + +There was something in the look and in the manner of Dudleigh in these +interviews which might have moved a colder nature than that of Edith. +Whenever he entered and greeted her, his face was overspread by a +radiant expression that spoke of joy and delight. Whenever they met, his +face told all the feelings of his heart. Yet never in any way, either by +word or act, did he venture upon any thing which might not have been +witnessed by all the world. There was something touching in that deep +joy of his which was inspired simply by her presence, and in the peace +and calm that came over him while she was near. Elsewhere it was +different with him. Whenever she had seen his face outside--and that had +been often, for she had often seen him riding or walking in front of the +windows--she had marked how care-worn and sad its expression was; she +had marked a cloud of melancholy upon his brow, that bore witness to +some settled grief unknown to her, and had read in all the lineaments of +his features the record which some mysterious sorrow had traced there. +Yet in her presence all this departed, and the eyes that looked on her +grew bright with happiness, and the face that was turned toward her was +overspread with joy. Could it be any other than herself who made this +change? + +There was something in the manner of this man toward her which was +nothing less than adoration. The delicate grace of his address, the deep +reverence of his look, the intonations of his voice, tremulous with an +emotion that arose from the profoundest depths of his nature, all bore +witness to this. For when he spoke to her, even about the most trifling +things, there was that in his tone which showed that the subject upon +which he was speaking was nothing, but the one to whom he was speaking +was all in all. He stood before her like one with a fervid nature, +intense in its passion, and profound in all its emotion, who under a +calm exterior concealed a glow of feeling which burned in his heart like +a consuming fire--a feeling that was kept under restraint by the force +of will, but which, if freed from restraint but for one moment, would +burst forth and bear down all before it. + +Weeks passed away, but amidst all the intimacy of their association +there never appeared the slightest attempt on his part to pass beyond +the limits which he had set for himself. Another man under such +circumstances might have ventured upon something like a greater +familiarity, but with this man there was no such attempt. After all +their interviews he still stood in spirit at a distance, with the same +deep reverence in his look, and the same profound adoration in his +manner, regarding her as one might regard a divinity. For Dudleigh stood +afar off, yet like a worshiper--far off, as though he deemed that +divinity of his inaccessible--yet none the less did his devotion make +itself manifest. All this was not to be seen in his words, but rather in +his manner, in the expression of his face, and in the attitude of his +soul, as it became manifest to her whom he adored. + +For she could not but see it; in matters of this sort woman's eyes are +keen; but here any one might have perceived the deep devotion of +Dudleigh. The servants saw it, and talked about it. What was plain to +them could not but be visible to her. She saw it--she knew it--and what +then? Certainly it was not displeasing. The homage thus paid was too +delicate to give offense; it was of that kind which is most flattering +to the heart, which never grows familiar, but is insinuated or suggested +rather than expressed. + +It was consoling to her lonely heart to see one like this, who, whenever +she appeared, would pass from a state of sadness to one of happiness; to +see his eloquent eyes fixed upon her with a devotion beyond words; to +hear his voice, which, while it spoke the commonplaces of welcome, was +yet in its tremulous tones expressive of a meaning very different from +that which lay in the words. Naturally enough, she was touched by this +silent reverence which she thus inspired; and as she had already found +cause to trust him, so she soon came to trust him still more. She +looked up to him as one with whom she might confer, not only with +reference to her father, but also with regard to the conduct of the +estate. Thus many varied subjects grew up for their consideration, and +gradually the things about which they conversed grew more and more +personal. Beginning with Mr. Dalton, they at last ended with themselves, +and Dudleigh on many occasions found opportunity of advising Edith on +matters where her own personal interest or welfare was concerned. + +Thus their intimacy deepened constantly from the very necessities of +their position. + +Then there was the constant anxiety which each felt and expressed about +the health of the other. Each had urged the other to give up the +allotted portion of attendance. This had ended in both of them keeping +up that attendance together for a great part of the time. Nevertheless, +the subject of one another's health still remained. Dudleigh insisted +that Edith had not yet recovered, that she was nothing better than a +convalescent, and that she ought not to risk such close confinement. +Edith, on the contrary, insisted that she was able to do far more, and +that the confinement was injuring him far more than herself. On one +occasion she asked him what he thought would become of her if he too +became ill, and the care of the two should thus devolve upon her. + +At this remark, which escaped Edith in the excitement of an argument +about the interesting subject of one another's health, Dudleigh's face +lighted up. He looked at her with an expression that spoke more than +words could tell. Yet he said nothing. He said nothing in words, but +his eyes spoke an intelligible language, and she could well understand +what was thus expressed. + +What was it that they said? + +O loved! and O adored beyond weak words! O divinity of mine! they said. +If death should be the end of this, then such death would be sweet, if I +could but die in your presence! O loved and longed for! they said. +Between us there is an impassable barrier. I stand without; I seek not +to break through; but even at a distance I love, and I adore! + +And that was what Edith understood. Her eyes sank before his gaze. They +sat in silence for a long time, and neither of them ventured to break +that silence by words. + +At length Dudleigh proposed that they should both go out for a short +time each day together. This he had hesitated to do on account of Mr. +Dalton. Yet, after all, there was no necessity for them to be there +always. Mr. Dalton, in his stupor, was unconscious of their presence, +and their absence could therefore make no difference to him, either with +regard to his feelings or the attention which he received. When Dudleigh +made his proposal, he mentioned this also, and Edith saw at once its +truth. She therefore consented quite readily, and with a gratification +that she made no attempt to conceal. + +Why should she not? She had known enough of sorrow. Dalton Hall had thus +far been to her nothing else than a prison-house. Why should it not +afford her some pleasure as an offset to former pain? Here was an +opportunity of obtaining at last some compensation. She could go forth +into the bright free open air under the protection of one whose loyalty +and devotion had been sufficiently proved. Could she hope for any +pleasanter companion? + +Thus a new turn took place in the lives of these two. The mornings they +passed in Mr. Dalton's room, and in the afternoons, except when there +was unpleasant weather, they went out together. Sometimes they strolled +through the grounds, down the lordly avenues, and over the soft sweet +meadows; at other times they went on horseback. The grounds were +extensive and beautiful, but confinement within the park inclosure was +attended with unpleasant memories, and so, in the ordinary course of +things, they naturally sought the wider, freer world outside. + +The country around Dalton Hall was exceedingly beautiful, and rich in +all those peculiar English charms whose quiet grace is so attractive to +the refined taste. Edith had never enjoyed any opportunity of seeing all +this, and now it opened before her like a new world. Formerly, during +her long imprisonment, she had learned to think of that outside world as +one which was full of every thing that was most delightful; there +freedom dwelt; and that thought was enough to make it fair and sweet to +her. So the prisoner always thinks of that which lies beyond his prison +walls, and imagines that if he were once in that outer world he would be +in the possession of perfect happiness. + +Horseback riding has advantages which make it superior to every other +kind of exercise. On foot one is limited and restrained, for progress +is slow; and although one can go any where, yet the pedestrian who +wishes for enjoyment must only stroll. Any thing else is too fatiguing. +But a small space can be traversed, and that only with considerable +fatigue. In a carriage there is ease and comfort; but the high-road +forms the limit of one's survey; to that he must keep, and not venture +out of the smooth beaten track. But on horseback all is different. +There one has something of the comfort of the carriage and something of +the freedom of the pedestrian. Added to this, there is an exhilaration +in the motion itself which neither of the others presents. The most +rapid pace can alternate with the slowest; the highway no longer forms +bounds to the journey; distance is no obstacle where enjoyment is +concerned; and few places are inaccessible which it is desirable to see. +The generous animal which carries his rider is himself an additional +element of pleasure; for he himself seems to sympathize with all his +rider's feelings, and to such an extent that even the solitary horseman +is not altogether alone. + +This was the pleasure which Edith was now able to enjoy with Dudleigh as +her companion, and the country was one which afforded the best +opportunity for such exercise. Dudleigh was, as has been said, a +first-rate horseman, and managed his steed like one who had been brought +up from childhood to that accomplishment. Edith also had always been +fond of riding; at school she had been distinguished above all the +others for her skill and dash in this respect; and there were few places +where, if Dudleigh led, she would not follow. + +All the pleasure of this noble exercise was thus enjoyed by both of them +to the fullest extent. There was an exhilaration in it which each felt +equally. The excitement of the rapid gallop or the full run, the quiet +sociability of the slow walk, the perfect freedom of movement in almost +any direction, were all appreciated by one as much as by the other. +Then, too, the country itself was of that character which was best +adapted to give pleasure. There were broad public roads, hard, smooth, +and shadowed by overarching trees--roads such as are the glory of +England, and with which no other country has any that can compare. Then +there were by-roads leading from one public road to another, as smooth +and as shadowy as the others, but far more inviting, since they +presented greater seclusion and scenes of more quiet picturesque beauty. +Here they encountered pleasant lanes leading through peaceful +sequestered valleys, beside gently flowing streams and babbling brooks, +where the trees overarched most grandly and the shade was most +refreshing. Here they loved best to turn, and move slowly onward at a +pace best suited to quiet observation and agreeable conversation. + +Such a change from the confinement of Dalton Hall and Dalton Park was +unspeakably delightful to Edith. She had no anxiety about leaving her +father, nor had Dudleigh; for in his condition the quiet housekeeper +could do all that he would require in their absence. To Edith this +change was more delightful than to Dudleigh, since she had Felt those +horrors of imprisonment which he had not. These rides through the wide +country, so free, so unrestrained, brought to her a delicious sense of +liberty. For the first time in many weary months she felt that she was +her own mistress. She was free, and she could enjoy with the most +intense delight all the new pleasures of this free and unrestrained +existence. So in these rides she was always joyous, always gay, and even +enthusiastic. It was to her like the dawn of a new life, and into that +life she threw herself with an abandonment of feeling that evinced +itself in unrestrained enjoyment of every thing that presented itself to +her view. + +Dudleigh, however, was very different. In him there had always appeared +a certain restraint. His manner toward Edith had that devotion and +respect which have already been described; he was as profound and +sincere in his homage and as tender in his loyalty as ever; but even +now, under these far more favorable circumstances, he did not venture +beyond the limits of courtesy--those limits which society has +established and always recognizes. From the glance of his eyes, however, +from the tone of his voice, and from his whole mien, there could be seen +the deep fervor of his feelings toward Edith; but though the tones were +often tremulous with deep feeling, the words that he spoke seldom +expressed more than the formulas of politeness. His true meaning lay +behind or beneath his words. His quiet manner was therefore not the sign +of an unemotional nature, but rather of strong passion reined in and +kept in check by a powerful will, the sign and token of a nature which +had complete mastery over itself, so that never on any occasion could a +lawless impulse burst forth. + +These two were therefore not uncongenial--the one with her enthusiasm, +her perfect abandon of feeling, the other with his self-command, his +profound devotion. Their tastes were alike. By a common impulse they +sought the same woodland paths, or directed their course to the same +picturesque scenes; they admired the same beauties, or turned away with +equal indifference from the commonplace, the tame, or the prosaic. The +books which they liked were generally the same. No wonder that the +change was a pleasant one to Edith. These rides began to bring back to +her the fresh feeling of her buoyant school-girl days, and restore to +her that joyous spirit and that radiant fancy which had distinguished +her at Plympton Terrace. + +Riding about thus every where, these two became conspicuous. The public +mind was more puzzled than ever. Those who maintained that Dudleigh was +an impostor felt their confidence greatly shaken, and could only murmur +something about its being done "for effect," and "to throw dust into the +eyes of people;" while those who believed in him asserted their belief +more strongly than ever, and declared that the unhappy differences which +had existed between husband and wife had passed away, and terminated in +a perfect reconciliation. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE. + +Thus Dudleigh and Edith found a new life opening before them; and though +this life was felt by both to be a temporary one, which must soon come +to an end, yet each seemed resolved upon enjoying it to the utmost while +it lasted. + +On one of these rides a remarkable event +occurred. + +It chanced that Edith's horse dropped a shoe, and they went slowly to +the nearest village to have him reshod. They came to one before long, +and riding slowly through it, they reached the farthest end of it, and +here they found a smithy. + +A small river ran at this end of the village across the road, and over +this there was a narrow bridge. The smithy was built close beside the +bridge on piles half over the edge of the stream. It faced the road, +and, standing in the open doorway, one could see up the entire length of +the village. + +Here they dismounted, and found the farrier. Unfortunately the shoe had +been lost and the farrier had none, so that he had to make one for the +occasion. This took much time, and Edith and Dudleigh strolled up and +down the village, stood on the bridge and wandered about, frequently +returning to the smithy to see how the work was progressing. + +The last time they came they found that the smith was nearly through his +work. They stood watching him as he was driving in one of the last +nails, feeling a kind of indolent curiosity in the work, when suddenly +there arose in the road behind them a frightful outburst of shrieks and +cries. The smith dropped the horse's foot and the hammer, and started +up. Dudleigh and Edith also turned by a quick movement to see what it +might be. + +A terrible sight burst upon them. + +As they looked up the village street, they saw coming straight toward +them a huge dog, which was being pursued by a large crowd of men. The +animal's head was bent low, his jaw dropped, and almost before they +fairly understood the meaning of what they saw, he had come close enough +for them to distinguish the foam that dropped from his jaws, and his +wild, staring, blood-shot eyes. In that moment they understood it. In +that animal, which thus rushed straight toward them, and was already so +near, they saw one of the most terrible sights that can appear to the +eye of man--a mad dog! + +The smith gave a yell of horror, and sprang to a window that looked out +of the rear of the smithy into the stream. Through this he flung +himself, and disappeared. + +On came the dog, his eyes glaring, his mouth foaming, distancing all his +pursuers, none of whom were near enough to deal a blow. They did not +seem particularly anxious to get nearer to him, to tell the truth, but +contented themselves with hurling stones at him, and shrieking and +yelling from a safe distance in his rear. + +On came the dog. There was no time for escape. Quick as thought Dudleigh +flung himself before Edith. There was no time to seize any weapon. He +had to face the dog unarmed, in his own unassisted strength. As for +Edith, she stood paralyzed with utter horror. + +On came the mad dog, and with a horrible snapping howl, sprang straight +at Dudleigh. + +But Dudleigh was prepared. As the dog sprang he hit straight out at him +"from the shoulder," and dealt him a tremendous blow on the throat with +his clinched fist. The blow hurled the animal over and over till he fell +upon his back, and before he could regain his feet, Dudleigh sprang upon +him and seized him by the throat. + +He was a large and powerful animal. He struggled fiercely in the grasp +of Dudleigh, and the struggle was a terrific one. The villagers, who had +now come up, stood off, staring in unspeakable horror, not one of them +daring to interfere. + +But the terror which had at first frozen Edith into stone now gave way +to another feeling, a terror quite as strong, but which, instead of +congealing her into inaction, roused her to frenzied exertion. +Dudleigh's life was at stake! Terror for herself was paralysis to her +limbs; terror for him was the madness of desperate exertion and daring. + +She sprang toward one of the by-standers, who had a knife in his hand. +This knife she snatched from him, and rushed toward Dudleigh. The dog +was still writhing in his furious straggles. Dudleigh was still holding +him down, and clutching at his throat with, death-like tenacity. For a +moment she paused, and then flinging herself upon her knees at the dog's +head, she plunged the knife with all her strength into the side of his +neck. + +It was a mortal wound! + +With a last howl, the huge animal relaxed his efforts, and in a few +moments lay dead in the road. + +Dudleigh rose to his feet. There was in his face an expression of pain +and apprehension. The villagers stood aloof, staring at him with awful +eyes. No word of congratulation was spoken. The silence was ominous; +it was terrible. Edith was struck most of all by the expression of +Dudleigh's face, and read there what she dared not think of. For a +moment the old horror which had first seized upon her came upon her once +more, paralyzing her limbs. She looked at him with staring eyes as she +knelt, and the bloody knife dropped from her nerveless hands. But the +horror passed, and once more, as before, was succeeded by vehement +action. She sprang to her feet, and caught at his coat as he walked +away. + +He turned, with downcast eyes. + +"O my God!" she exclaimed, in anguish, "you are wounded--you are +bitten--and by that--" She could not finish her sentence. + +Dudleigh gave her an awful look. + +"You will die! you will die!" she almost screamed. "Oh, cannot +something be done? Let me look at your arm. Oh, let me examine it--let +me see where it is! Show me--tell me what I can do." + +Dudleigh had turned to enter the smithy as Edith had arrested him, and +now, standing there in the doorway, he gently disengaged himself from +her grasp. Then he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. + +Edith had already noticed that his coat sleeve was torn, and now, as he +took off his coat, she saw, with unutterable horror, his white shirt +sleeves red with spots of blood. As he rolled up that sleeve she saw +the marks of bruises on his arm; but it was on one place in particular +that her eyes were fastened--a place where a red wound, freshly made, +showed the source of the blood stains, and told at what a terrible price +he had rescued her from the fierce beast. He had conquered, but not +easily, for he had carried off this wound, and the wound was, as he +knew, and as she knew, the bite of a mad dog! + +Edith gave a low moan of anguish and despair. She took his arm in her +hands. Dudleigh did not withdraw it. Even at that moment of horror it +seemed sweet to him to see these signs of feeling on her part; and +though he did not know what it was that she had in her mind, he waited, +to feel for a moment longer the clasp of those hands. + +Edith held his arm in her hands, and the terrible wound fascinated her +eyes with horror. It seemed to her at that moment that this was the doom +of Dudleigh, the stamp of his sure and certain death. It seemed to her +that this mark was the announcement to her that henceforth Dudleigh was +lost to her; that he must die--die by a death so horrible that its +horrors surpassed language and even imagination, and that this +unutterable doom had been drawn down upon him for her. + +It had been terrible. Out of pleasant thoughts and genial conversation +and genie smiles and happy interchange of sentiment, out of the joy of a +glad day, out of the delight of golden hours and sunlight and beauty and +peace--to be plunged suddenly into a woe like this! + +There came to her a wild and desperate thought. Only one idea was in her +mind--to save Dudleigh, to snatch this dear friend from the death to +which he had flung himself for her sake. Inspired by this sole idea, +there had come a sudden thought. It was the thought of that royal wife's +devotion who, when her young husband lay dying from the poisoned dagger +of an assassin, drew the poison from the wound, and thus snatched him +from the very grasp of death. This it was, then, that was in the mind +of Edith, and it was in her agonized heart at that moment to save +Dudleigh even as Eleanor had saved Edward. + +She bent down her head, till her face was close to his arm. + +Dudleigh looked on as in a dream. He did not know, he could not even +conceive, what she had in her heart to do for his sake. It would have +seemed incredible, had he not seen it; nor could he have imagined it, +had he not been convinced. + +The discovery flashed suddenly, vividly across his mind. He recognized +in that one instant the love, the devotion, stronger than death, which +was thus manifesting itself in that slight movement of that adored one +by his side. It was a thought of sweetness unutterable, which amidst his +agony sent a thrill of rapture through every nerve. + +It was but for a moment. + +He gently withdrew his arm. She looked at him reproachfully and +imploringly. He turned away his face firmly. + +"Will you leave me for a moment, Miss Dalton?" said he, in a choking +voice. + +He pointed to the doorway. + +She did not appear to understand him. She stood, with her face white as +ashes, and looked at him with the same expression. + +"Leave me--oh, leave me," he said, "for one moment! It is not fit for +you." + +She did not move. + +[Illustration: "THERE WAS THE HISS OF SOMETHING SCORCHING."] + +Dudleigh could wait no longer. His soul was roused up to a desperate +purpose, but the execution of that purpose could not he delayed. He +sprang to the fire. One of the irons had been imbedded there in the +glowing coals. He had seen this in his despair, and had started toward +it, when Edith detained him. This iron he snatched out. It was at a +white heat, dazzling in its glow. + +In an instant he plunged this at the wound. A low cry like a muffled +groan was wrung from the spectators, who watched the act with eyes of +utter horror. + +There was the hiss of something scorching; a sickening smoke arose and +curled up about his head, and ascended to the roof. But in the midst of +this Dudleigh stood as rigid as Mucius Scaevola under another fiery +trial, with the hand that held the glowing iron and the arm that felt +the awful torment as steady as though he had been a statue fashioned in +that attitude. Thus he finished his work. + +It was all over in a few seconds. Then Dudleigh turned, with his face +ghastly white, and big drops of perspiration, wrung out by that agony, +standing over his brow. He flung down the iron. + +At the same moment Edith, yielding altogether to the horror that had +hitherto overwhelmed her, fell senseless to the floor. + +By this time some among the crowd had regained the use of their +faculties, and these advanced to offer their services. Dudleigh was able +to direct them to take Edith to some shelter, and while they did so he +followed. Edith after some time revived. A doctor was sent for, who +examined Dudleigh's arm, and praised him for his prompt action, while +wondering at his daring. He bound it up, and gave some general +directions. + +Meanwhile a messenger had been sent to Dalton Hall for the carriage. +Edith, though she had revived, hardly felt strong enough for horseback, +and Dudleigh's arm was sufficiently painful to make him prefer as great +a degree of quiet as possible. When the carriage came, therefore, it was +with feelings of great relief that they took their seats and prepared to +go back. Nor was their journey any the less pleasant from the fact that +they had to sit close together, side by side--a closer union than any +they had thus far known. It was an eventful day; nor was its conclusion +the least so. But little was said during the drive home. Each felt what +bad been done by the other. Edith remembered how Dudleigh had risked the +most terrible, the most agonizing of deaths to save her. Dudleigh, on +his part, remembered that movement of hers, by which she was about to +take the poison from his wound unto herself. The appalling event which +had occurred had broken down all reserve. All was known. Each knew that +the other was dearer than all the world. Each knew that the other loved +and was loved; but yet in the midst of this knowledge there was a +feeling of utter helplessness arising from the unparalleled position of +Edith. It was a peculiar and at the same time a perilous one. + +In the eyes of the world these two were nothing less than man and wife. +In the eyes of the law, as Edith feared, she was the wife of Leon +Dudleigh. + +Now this man was not Leon Dudleigh. He was an impostor. Edith did not +even know that his name was Dudleigh at all. She had never asked him +the secret of his life; he had never volunteered to tell it. She did +not know what his name really was. + +As an impostor, she knew that he was liable to discovery, arrest, and +punishment at any time. She knew that the discovery of this man would +endanger herself. His arrest would involve hers, and she would once more +be tried for her life, as the murderer of the missing man, with the +additional disadvantage of having already eluded justice by a trick. She +was liable at any moment to this, for the missing man was still missing, +and it would go doubly hard for her, since she had aided and abetted for +so long a time the conspiracy of an impostor. + +Yet this impostor was beyond all doubt a man of the loftiest character, +most perfect breeding, and profoundest self-devotion. From the very +first his face had revealed to her that he had entered upon this +conspiracy for her sake. And since then, for her sake, what had he not +done? + +Thus, then, they were both in a position of peril. They loved one +another passionately. But they could not possess one another. The +world supposed them man and wife, but the law made her the wife of +another, of whom it also charged her with being the murderer. Around +these two there were clouds of darkness, deep and dense, and their +future was utterly obscure. + +These things were in the minds of both of them through that drive, and +that evening as they walked about the grounds. For since their mutual +love had all been revealed, Dudleigh had spoken in words what he had +repressed so long, and Edith had confessed what had already been +extorted from her. Yet this mutual confession of love with all its +attendant endearments, had not blinded them to the dangers of their +position and the difficulties that lay in their way. + +"I can not endure this state of things," said Dudleigh. "For your sake, +as well as my own, Edith darling, it must be brought to an end. I have +not been idle, but I have waited to hear from those who have put +themselves on the track of the man from whom we have most to dread. One +has tried to find some trace of Leon; the other is my mother. Now I have +not heard from either of them, and I am beginning to feel not only +impatient, but uneasy." + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +IMPORTANT NEWS. + +The position of Edith and Dudleigh was of such a character that farther +inaction was felt to be intolerable, and it was only the hope of hearing +from those who were already engaged in the work that made him capable of +delaying longer. But several events now occurred which put an end to the +present state of things. + +The first of these was a marked improvement in the condition of Mr. +Dalton. A successful operation performed upon him had the result of +restoring him to consciousness, and after this a general increase of +strength took place. His intense joy at the sight of Edith, and the +delight which he felt at her presence and the reception of her loving +and tender care, all acted favorably upon him; and as the sorrow which +he had experienced had been the chief cause of his prostration, so the +happiness which he now felt became a powerful agent toward restoring him +to strength. + +The joy of Edith was so great that the terror and perplexity of her +position ceased to alarm her. Her greatest grief seemed now removed, for +she had feared that her father might die without ever knowing how deeply +she repented for the past and how truly she loved him. Now, however, he +would live to receive from her those tender cares which, while they +could never in her mind atone for the wrongs that she had inflicted upon +him, would yet be the means of giving some happiness to him who had +suffered go much. + +A few days after her father's restoration to consciousness Dudleigh +received a letter of a most important character, and as soon as he was +able to see Edith during the walks that they still took in the afternoon +or evening, he informed her with unusual emotion of the fact. + +"She writes," he concluded, "that she has got at last on the track of +Leon." + +"Who? Your mother?" + +"No. I have not heard from my mother. I mean Miss Fortescue." + +"Miss Fortescue?" repeated Edith, in some surprise. + +"Yes," said Dudleigh. "I did not mention her before, because I did not +know what you might think about it. But the fact is, I saw her after the +trial was over. She had come to give important testimony. She came to +see me, and told me all about it. The information was of the most +extraordinary kind. It appears that in the course of her own inquiries +she had heard some gossip about a long box which had been put off at +Finsbury from the train. This was called for by a teamster, who was +accompanied by a Newfoundland dog, who took the box, and drove away from +Finsbury to Dalton. Now, as no such teamster, or box, or dog, had been +seen in Dalton, she began to suspect that it had something to do with +the remains found in the well, and that this whole matter was a +malignant scheme of Leon's to involve you or your father, or both, in +some calamity. At any rate, she herself went cautiously about, and +tried to investigate for herself. She had all along felt convinced that +Leon was alive, and she felt equally convinced that he was capable of +any malignant act for the purpose of wreaking his vengeance on you or +your father. He had been baffled here, and had sworn vengeance. That +much your father told me before the trial. + +"So Miss Fortescue searched very carefully, and at length made a very +important discovery. A few miles this side of Finsbury there is a +grove, through which the Dalton Park wall runs. Here she happened to see +the trace of heavy wheels, and the hedge which adjoins the wall, and is +rather thin there, seemed to have been broken through, so as to form an +opening wide enough to admit a cart. Struck by this, she followed the +marks of the wheels into the grove for some distance, until they +stopped. Here, to her surprised, she saw close by the Dalton Park wall +an oblong box, just like the one which had been described to her. It was +empty, and had been left here. + +"Now why had it been left here? Miss Fortescue felt certain that Leon +had brought a dead body in that box, that he had taken it stealthily +into the park, and thrown it down into the well, and then, not wishing +to be seen with such a very conspicuous thing as this box, he had left +it behind him. She also thought that he had managed in a secret way to +start the rumors that had prevailed, and to drop some hints, either by +anonymous letters to the sheriff or otherwise, which turned their +attention to the well. She saw at once how important this testimony +would be in your favor, and therefore saw the Finsbury people who had +told her of the teamster, and with these she came to the trial. But when +she came she heard that the missing man had returned--and saw me, you +know." + +At this extraordinary information Edith was silent for some time. + +"I have often tried to account for it," said she, "but I could hardly +bring myself to believe that this was his work. But now when I recalled +his last words to me, I can understand it, and I am forced to believe +it." + +"His last words to you?" said Dudleigh, in an inquiring tone. + +"Yes," said Edith, with a sigh. "The remembrance of that night is so +distressing that I have never felt able to speak of it. Even the +thought of what I suffered then almost drives me wild; but now--and to +_you_, Reginald--it is different, and I have strength to speak of +it." + +As she said this she looked at him tenderly, and Reginald folded her in +his arms. She then began to give an account of that eventful night, of +her long preparations, her suspense, her departure, until that moment +when she saw that she was pursued. The remainder only need be given +here. + +She had been right in her conjectures. Leon had suspected, or at least +had watched, and discovered all. The moonlight had revealed her plainly +as she stole across the open area, and when she fled into the woods the +rustling and crackling had betrayed the direction which she had taken. +Thus it was that Leon had been able to pursue her, and his first +sneering words as he came up to her made her acquainted with her +awkwardness. The trees were not so close but that her figure could be +seen; the moonlight streamed down, and disclosed her standing at bay, +desperate, defiant, with her dagger uplifted, and her arm nerved to +strike. This Leon saw, and being afraid to venture close to her, he held +aloof, and tried to conceal his cowardice in taunts and sneers. + +Edith said nothing for some time, but at last, seeing that Leon +hesitated, she determined to continue her flight in spite of him, and +informed him so. + +Upon this he threatened to set the dog on her. + +"He will tear you to pieces," cried Leon. "No one will suspect that I +had any thing to do with it. Every body will believe that in trying to +run away you were caught by the dog." + +This threat, however, did not in the least alarm Edith. She was not +afraid of the dog. She had already gained the animal's affections by +various little acts of kindness. So now, in response to Leon's threats, +she held out her hand toward the dog and called him. The dog wagged his +tail and made a few steps forward. At this Leon grew infuriated, and +tried to set him at Edith. But the dog would not obey. Leon then held +him, pointed his head toward Edith, and doing all in his power to urge +him on. The effort, however, was completely useless. Edith, seeing +this, hurried away. Leon rushed after her, followed by the dog, and once +more she stood at bay, while the same efforts were repeated to set the +dog at her. This was done several times over. At last Leon gave the dog +a terrible beating. Wild with indignant rage at his cowardice, +brutality, and persistent pursuit, full also of pity for the poor animal +who was suffering for love of her, Edith sprang forward at Leon as +though she would stab him. Whether she would have done so or not, need +not be said; at any rate her purpose was gained, for Leon, with a cry of +fear, started back. + +Then standing at a safe distance, he hurled at her the most terrible +threats of vengeance. Among all these she remembered well one +expression, which he repeated over and over. + +"You've threatened my life!" he cried. + +"My life shall lie at your door, if I have to kill myself." + +This he said over and over. But Edith did not wait much longer. Once +more she started off, and this time Leon did not follow her. That was +the last she saw or heard of him. After this she wandered about through +woods and swamps for a long time, and at length, about the dawn of day, +when she had almost lost all hope, she came to the wall. This she +clambered over by means of her rope and hook, and reached the Dalton Inn +in the condition already described. + +Afterward, when she heard that Leon was missing, and when she was +confronted with the remains, the whole horror of her situation burst +upon her mind. Her first thought was that he had in his desperate rage +actually killed himself; but the absence of the head showed that this +was impossible. There remained after this a deep mystery, the solution +of which she could not discover, but in the midst of which she could not +fail to see how terribly circumstances bore against her. She was afraid +to say any thing. She knew that if she told all she would be believed +but in part. If she confessed that she had seen him, and had quarreled +with him on that night, then all men would conclude that she had also +murdered him so as to escape. She saw also how hopeless it was to look +for any testimony in her favor. Every thing was against her. Being in +ignorance of her father and Lady Dudleigh, she had supposed that they +would be most relentless of all in doing her to death; and the +excitement of the latter over the loss of Leon was never suspected by +her to be the frenzied grief of a mother's heart over a sudden and most +agonizing bereavement. + +But now all these things were plain. Another shared her secret--one, +too, who would lay down his life for her--and the efforts of Miss +Fortescue had resulted in suggesting to her mind a new solution of the +mystery. + +After the natural comments which were elicited by Edith's strange story, +Reginald showed her the letter which he had received from Miss +Fortescue. It was not very long, nor was it very definite. It merely +informed him that she had reason to believe that she had at last got +upon the track of Leon; and requested him to come to her at once, as +there was danger of losing this opportunity if there was any delay. She +appointed a place at which she would meet him three days from the date +of the letter, where she would wait several days to allow for all delay +in his reception of the letter. The place which she mentioned was known +to Reginald as the nearest station on the railway to Dudleigh Manor. + +"This must decide all," said Reginald. "They are playing a desperate +game, and the part which must be done by my mother and myself is a +terrible one. If we fail in this, we may have to fly at once. But if I +can only see Leon once, so as to drag him before the world, and show +that he is alive--if I can only save you, darling, from your terrible +position, then I can bear other evils in patience for a time longer." + +"You have heard nothing from your mother, then?" said Edith. + +"No," said he, with a sigh. "And I feel anxious--terribly anxious. I was +very unwilling for her to go, and warned her against it; but she was +determined, and her reasons for doing so were unanswerable; still I feel +terribly alarmed, for Sir Lionel is a man who would stop at nothing to +get rid of one whom he thinks is the only witness against him." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "THEY WERE STARTLED BY THE APPROACH OF SEVERAL MEN."] + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +THE STORY OF FREDERICK DALTON. + +After Dudleigh's departure Edith was left more exclusively with her +father, and had the satisfaction of seeing that under her tender care he +grew stronger and more happy every day. In the long confidences between +these two, who had once been so separated, all was gradually explained, +and Edith learned not only the whole truth about that calamity which had +befallen him in early life, but also the reason of that once +inexplicable policy which he had chosen with regard to herself. + +Lionel Dudleigh and he had been friends from boyhood, though the weak +and lavish character of the former had gradually put them upon divergent +lines of life, which even Lionel's marriage with his sister, Claudine +Dalton, could not bring together again. For Lionel had fallen into evil +courses, and had taken to the common road of ruin--the turf; and though +it had been hoped that his marriage would work a reformation, yet those +hopes had all proved unfounded. Years passed. Two children were born to +Lionel Dudleigh--Reginald and Leon; yet not even the considerations of +their future welfare, which usually have weight with the most corrupt, +were sufficiency powerful to draw back the transgressor from his bad +career. + +He became terribly involved in debt. Twice already his debts had been +paid, but this third time his father would assist him no longer. His +elder brother, then heir to the estate, was equally inexorable; and +Frederick Dalton was the one who came forward to save his sister's +husband and his old friend from destruction. + +On this occasion, however, Lionel was not frank with Dalton. Perhaps he +was afraid to tell him the whole amount of his debts, for fear that +Dalton would refuse to do any thing. At any rate, whatever the cause +was, after Dalton had, as he supposed, settled every thing, Lionel was +pressed as hard as ever by a crowd of creditors, whom this partial +settlement had only rendered the more ravenous. + +Pressed hard by one of these, the wretched man had forged a check on the +Liverpool banker, Mr. Henderson, and this check he had inclosed in a +letter to Frederick Dalton, requesting him to get the money and pay one +or two debts which he specified. This Dalton did at once, without +hesitation or suspicion of any sort. + +Then came the discovery, swift and sudden, that it was a forgery. But +one feeling arose in Dalton's mind, and that was a desire to save +Lionel. He hurried off at once to see him. The wretched man confessed +all. Dalton at once went to Liverpool, where he saw Mr. Henderson, and +tried to save his friend. He came away from the interview, however only +to make known to Lionel the banker's obstinacy and resolution to have +vengeance. + +Dalton's solicitor in Liverpool was Mr. John Wiggins. Lionel's presence +in Liverpool was not known to any one but Dalton. He had seen Wiggins +once, and persuaded Lionel to see him also, to which the latter +consented only with extreme difficulty. The interview never took place, +however, nor was Wiggins aware of Lionel's presence in Liverpool, or of +his guilt. Then the murder took place, and the paper was found which +criminated Dalton, who was at once arrested. + +Dalton was thunder-struck, not so much at his own arrest as at the +desperation of his friend and his utter baseness. He knew perfectly well +who the murderer was. The Maltese cross which had been found was not +necessary to show him this. No other man could have had any motive, and +no other man could have thought of mentioning his name in connection +with the terrible deed. It was thus that Dalton found himself betrayed +in the foulest manner, through no other cause than his own generosity. + +The horror of Mrs. Dudleigh on hearing of her brother's arrest was +excessive. She went off at once to see him. Even to her Dalton said +nothing about Lionel's guilt, for he wished to spare her the cruel blow +which such intelligence would give. + +The feeling that now animated Dalton can easily be explained. In the +first place, knowing that he was innocent, he had not the faintest doubt +that he would be acquitted. He believed that where there was no guilt, +no such thing as guilt could be proved. He relied also on his +well-known reputation. + +Feeling thus confident of his own innocence, and certain of acquittal, +he had only to ask himself what he ought to do with reference to Lionel. +Strict justice demanded that he should tell all that he knew; but there +were other considerations besides strict justice. There was the future +of Lionel himself, whom he wished to spare in spite of his baseness. +More than this, there was his sister and his sister's children. He could +not bring himself to inform against the guilty husband and father, and +thus crush their innocent heads under an overwhelming load of shame. He +never imagined that he himself, and his innocent wife and his innocent +child, would have to bear all that which he shrank from imposing upon +the wife and children of Lionel. + +The trial went on, and then came forth revelations which showed all to +Mrs. Dudleigh. That Maltese cross was enough. It was the key to the +whole truth. She saw her brother, and asked him. He was silent. Frantic +with grief, she hurried back to her husband. To her fierce reproaches he +answered not a word. She now proceeded to Liverpool. Her brother +entreated her to be calm and silent. He assured her that there was no +possible danger to himself, and implored her, for the sake of her +children, to say nothing. She allowed herself to be convinced by him, +and to yield to entreaties uttered by the very accused himself, and in +the name of her children. She believed in his innocence, and could not +help sharing his confidence in an acquittal. + +That acquittal did come--by a narrow chance, yet it did come; but at +once, to the consternation of both brother and sister, the new trial +followed. Here Dalton tried to keep up his confidence as before. His +counsel implored him to help them in making his defense by telling them +what he knew, but Dalton remained fatally obstinate. Proudly confiding +in his innocence, and trusting to his blameless life, he still hesitated +to do what he considered an act of merciless cruelty to his sister, and +he still persuaded her also to silence, and still prophesied his own +acquittal, and the rescue of her husband and children from ruin. Part +of his prophecy was fulfilled. The husband and children of the sister +were indeed saved, but it was at the expense of the innocent and devoted +brother. + +The effect was terrible. Dalton heard of his wife's illness. He had +written to her before, full of confidence, and trying to cheer her; but +from the first Mrs. Dalton had looked for the worst; not that she +supposed her husband could possibly be otherwise than innocent, but +simply because she was timid and afraid of the law. She had good reason +to fear. Word was brought to Dalton that she was dying, and then the +news came that she was dead. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Dudleigh, more frenzied than ever, flew to see her +husband. She found that he had gone to the Continent. She pursued him, +and reached him in Italy. Here she called upon him to confess his +guilt, and save his innocent friend. He refused. He dared not. She +threatened to denounce him. He fell at her feet and implored her mercy +in the name of their children. He entreated her to wait, to try other +means first, to get a new trial--any thing. + +Mrs. Dudleigh's threats to inform against him were easy to make, yet not +so easy to carry out. Turning from her husband in horror, she returned +to England with the fixed intention of telling every thing. His letter +to Dalton could have been shown, and the Maltese cross could have proved +who the murderer was. But Mrs. Dudleigh's courage faltered when she +reached her home and saw her children. Already she had heard of Mrs. +Dalton's death; already she knew well that Edith Dalton was doomed to +inherit a name of shame, a legacy of dishonor, and that she alone could +now avert this. But to avert this she must doom her own children. Had +it been herself only and her guilty husband, it would have been easy to +he just; but here were her children standing in the way and keeping her +back. + +Her struggles were agonizing. Time passed on; the delay was fatal. +Time passed, and the distracted mother could not make up her mind to +deal out ruin and shame to her children. Time passed, and Dalton was +taken away to that far-distant country to which he had been +sentenced--transported for life. + +Other changes also took place. Lionel's father and elder brother both +died within a short time of one another, leaving him heir to the estate +and the baronetcy. He was now Sir Lionel Dudleigh, and she was Lady +Dudleigh; and her brother--the pure in heart, the noble, the +devoted--what and where was he? + +The struggle was terrible, and she could not decide it. It seemed +abhorrent for her to rise up and denounce her husband, even to save her +brother. She could not do it, but she did what she could. She wrote +her husband a letter, bidding him farewell, and imploring him to +confess; took her son Reginald, the eldest, leaving behind the younger, +Leon, and prepared to go to her brother, hoping that if she could not +save him, she might at least alleviate his sorrows. She took with her +Hugo, a faithful old servant of the Dalton family, and with him and +Reginald went to Australia. + +Meanwhile Dalton had been in the country for a year. Before leaving he +had not been unmindful of others even in that dire extremity. He had +only one thought, and that was his child. He had learned that Miss +Plympton had taken her, and he wrote to her, urging her never to tell +Edith her father's story, and never to let the world know that she was +his daughter. He appointed Wiggins agent for his estates and guardian +of Edith before he left; and having thus secured her interests for the +present, he went to meet his fate. + +In Sydney he was treated very differently from the common convicts. +Criminals of all classes were sent out there, and to the better sort +large privileges were allowed. Dalton was felt by all to be a man of +the latter kind. His dignified bearing, his polish and refinement, +together with the well-known fact that he had so resolutely maintained +his innocence, all excited sympathy and respect. + +When Lady Dudleigh arrived there with Hugo and her son, she soon found +out this, and this fact enabled her to carry into execution a plan which +she had cherished all along during the voyage. She obtained a sheep +farm about a hundred miles away, applied to the authorities, and was +able to hire Dalton as a servant. Taking him in this capacity, she went +with him to the sheep farm, where Hugo and Reginald also accompanied +them. One more was afterward added. This was the man "Wilkins," who +had been sentenced to transportation for poaching, and had come out in +the same ship with Dalton. Lady Dudleigh obtained this man also, under +Dalton's advice, and he ultimately proved of great assistance to them. + +Here in this place years passed away. Dalton's only thought was of his +daughter. The short formal notes which were signed "John Wiggins," all +came from him. He could not trust himself to do any more. The sweet +childish letters which she wrote once or twice he kept next his heart, +and cherished as more precious than any earthly possession, but dared +not answer for fear lest he might break that profound secret which he +wished to be maintained between her and himself--her, the pure young +girl, himself, the dishonored outcast. So the years passed, and he +watched her from afar in his thoughts, and every year he thought of her +age, and tried to imagine what she looked like. + +During these years there was rising among them another spirit--a +character--whose force was destined to change the fortune of all. + +This was Reginald. + +From the first he had known the whole story--more than Leon had known. +Leon had known his father's guilt and Dalton's innocence, but Reginald +had been the confidant of his mother, the witness of her grief and her +despair. He had lived with Dalton, and year after year had been the +witness of a spectacle which never ceased to excite the deepest emotion, +that of an innocent man, a just man, suffering wrongfully on behalf of +another. His own father he had learned to regard with horror, while all +the enthusiastic love of his warm young heart had fixed itself upon the +man who had done all this for another. He knew for whom Dalton had +suffered. It was for his mother, and for himself, and he knew that he +was every day living on the sufferings and the woe of this +broken-hearted friend. Gradually other motives arose. He was a witness +of Dalton's profound and all-absorbing love for his daughter, and his +passionate desire to save her from all knowledge of his own shame. To +Reginald all this grew more and more intolerable. He now saw the worst +result of all, and he felt that while his own father had thrown upon his +friend his load of infamy, so he himself, the son, was throwing upon +Edith Dalton all that inherited infamy. + +At last his resolution was taken. He informed his mother. She had been +aware of his struggles of soul for years, and did not oppose him. +Indeed, she felt some relief. It was for the son's sake that she had +faltered when justice demanded her action. Now that son had grown to be +a calm, strong, resolute man, and he had decided. + +Yes, the decision was a final one. Not one objection was disregarded. +Every thing was considered, and the resolution was, at all hazards, and +at every cost, to do right. That resolution involved the accusation, the +trial, the condemnation, the infamy--yes, the death--of a husband and a +father; but even at that cost it was the resolve of Reginald that this +thing should be. + +The plan of escape occupied far less time. Dalton objected at first to +the whole thing, but Reginald had only to mention to him his daughter's +name to induce him to concur. + +After this it was given out that Frederick Dalton had died. This +statement was received by the authorities without suspicion or +examination, though the conspirators were prepared for both. + +Then Frederick Dalton, under an assumed name, accompanied by Hugo, went +to Sydney, where he embarked for England. No one recognized him. He +had changed utterly. Grief, despair, and time had wrought this. +Reginald and his mother went by another ship, a little later, and had no +difficulty in taking Wilkins with them. They all reached England in +safety, and met at a place agreed upon beforehand, where their future +action was arranged. + +On the voyage home Dalton had decided upon that policy which he +afterward sought to carry out. It was, first of all, to live in the +utmost seclusion, and conceal himself as far as possible from every eye. +A personal encounter with some old acquaintance, who failed to recognize +him, convinced him that the danger of his secret being discovered was +very small. His faithful solicitor, John Wiggins, of Liverpool, would +not believe that the gray-haired and venerable man who came to him was +the man whom he professed to be, until Dalton and Reginald had proved it +by showing the letters, and by other things. By John Wiggins's +suggestion Dalton assumed the name of Wiggins, and gave himself out to +be a brother of the Liverpool solicitor. No one suspected, and no +questions were asked, and so Dalton went to Dalton Hall under the name +of Wiggins, while Lady Dudleigh went as Mrs. Dunbar, to be housekeeper; +and their domestics were only Hugo and Wilkins, whose fidelity was known +to be incorruptible, and who were, of course, intimately acquainted with +the secret of their master. + +Here Dalton took up his abode, while John Wiggins, of Liverpool, began +to set in motion the train of events which should end in the +accomplishment of justice. First, it was necessary to procure from the +authorities all the documentary and other evidence which had been +acquired ten years before. Several things were essential, and above all +the Maltese cross. But English law is slow, and these things required +time. + +It was the intention of Dalton to have every thing in readiness first, +and then send Reginald and Lady Dudleigh to Sir Lionel to try the force +of a personal appeal. If by threats or any other means they could +persuade him to confess, he was to be allowed time to fly to some safe +place, or take any other course which he deemed most consistent with his +safety. Dalton himself was not to appear, but to preserve his secret +inviolable. If Sir Lionel should prove impracticable, then the charge +and arrest should take place at once; whether for forgery or murder was +not decided. That should be left to Reginald's own choice. They leaned +to mercy, however, and preferred the charge of forgery. Sir Lionel was +mistaken in supposing Lady Dudleigh to be the only witness against him, +for Reginald had been present at more than one interview between the +frenzied wife and the guilty husband, and had heard his father confess +the whole. + +But the regular progress of affairs had been altogether interrupted by +the sudden appearance of Edith. On reaching Dalton Hall Mr. Dalton had +felt an uncontrollable eagerness to see her, and had written to Miss +Plympton the letter already reported. He did not expect that she would +come so soon. He thought that she would wait for a time; that he would +get an answer, and arrange every thing for her reception. As it was, +she came at once, without any announcement, accompanied by Miss Plympton +and her maid. + +For years Dalton had been kept alive by the force of one feeling +alone--his love for his daughter. Out of the very intensity of his love +for her arose also another feeling, equally intense, and that was the +desire to clear his name from all stain before meeting with her. At +first he had intended to refrain from seeing her, but, being in England, +and so near, his desire for her was uncontrollable. Reginald had gone +for a tour on the Continent. The Hall was lonely; every room brought +back the memory of his lost wife, and of that little Edith who, years +before, used to wander about these halls and amidst these scenes with +him. He could not endure this enforced separation, and so he wrote as +he did. He expected he scarcely new what. He had a vague idea that +though he refused to make himself known, that she nevertheless might +divine it, or else, out of some mysterious filial instinct, might love +him under his assumed name as fervently as though there was no +concealment. + +When she came so suddenly, he was taken by surprise. He longed to see +her, but was afraid to admit her companions; and so it was that his +daughter, in whom his life was now bound up, was almost turned away from +her father's gates. + +Then followed her life at Dalton Hall. Dalton, afraid of the outside +world, afraid to be discovered, after having done so much for safety, at +the very time when deliverance seemed near, looked with terror upon +Edith's impatience. He risked an interview. He came full of a father's +holiest love, yet full of the purpose of his life to redeem the Dalton +name for her sake. He met with scorn and hate. From those interviews +he retired with his heart wrung by an anguish greater than any that he +had ever known before. + +And so it went on. It was for her own sake that he restrained her; yet +he could not tell her, for he had set his heart on not revealing himself +till he could do so with an unstained name. But he had made a mistake +at the very outset from his impatient desire to see her, and he was +doomed to see the results of that mistake. Miss Plympton was turned +away, and forthwith appealed to Sir Lionel. The result of this was that +Leon came. Leon recognized Wilkins, and could not be kept out. He did +not know Dalton, but knew that he was not the man whom he professed to +be, and his suspicions were aroused. On seeing Dalton he assumed a high +tone toward him, which he maintained till the last. Lady Dudleigh's +emotion at the sight of Leon was a sore embarrassment, and all Dalton's +plans seemed about to fall into confusion. The visits of the disguised +Miss Fortescue were a puzzle; and as both Dalton and Lady Dudleigh +looked upon this new visitor as an emissary of Leon's, they viewed these +visits as they did those of Leon. For the first time Lady Dudleigh and +Dalton were of opposite views. Dalton dreaded these visits, but his +sister favored them. Her mother's heart yearned over Leon; and even if +he did seek Edith's affections, it did not seem an undesirable thing. +That, however, was a thing from which Dalton recoiled in horror. + +At that time Reginald's strong will and clear intellect were sorely +needed, but he was away on his Continental tour, and knew nothing of all +these occurrences till it was too late. + +Thus nothing was left to Dalton but idle warnings, which Edith treated +as we have seen. True, there was one other resource, and that was to +tell her all; but this he hesitated to do. For years be had hoped to +redeem himself. He had looked forward to the day when his name should +be freed from stain, and he still looked forward to that day when he +might be able to say, "Here, my beloved daughter, my name is free from +stain; you can acknowledge me without shame." + +But Edith's opposition, and the plans of Leon, and the absorption of +Lady Dudleigh's sympathies in the interests of her son, all destroyed +Dalton's chances. He could only watch, and hear from his faithful Hugo +accounts of what was going on. Thus he was led into worse and worse +acts, and by misunderstanding Edith at the outset, opened the way for +both himself and her to many sorrows. + +After the terrible events connected with the mysterious departure of +Leon and the arrest of Edith, Dalton had at once written to Reginald. +He had been ill in the interior of Sicily--for his testimony at the +trial had been in part correct. Dalton's letter was delayed in reaching +him, but he hurried back as soon as possible. Relying on his +extraordinary resemblance to Leon, Dalton had urged him to personify the +missing man, and this he had consented to do, with the success which has +been described. His chief motive in doing this was his profound +sympathy for Dalton, and for Edith also, whom he believed to have been +subjected to unfair treatment. That sympathy which he had already felt +for Edith was increased when he saw her face to face. + +All this was not told to Edith at once, but rather in the course of +several conversations. Already in that interview in the prison her +father had explained to her his motives in acting as he had, and this +fuller confession only made those motives more apparent. In Edith this +story served only to excite fresh grief and remorse. But Dalton showed +so much grief himself that Edith was forced to restrain such feelings as +these in his presence. He took all the blame to himself. He would not +allow her to reproach herself. He it was, he insisted, who had been +alone to blame in subjecting a generous, high-spirited girl to such +terrible treatment--to imprisonment and spying and coercion. So great +was his own grief that Edith found herself forced from the position of +penitent into that of comforter, and often had to lose sight of her own +offenses in the endeavor to explain away her own sufferings. + +And thus, where there was so much need of mutual forgiveness and mutual +consolation, each one became less a prey to remorse. + +In the joy which he felt at thus gaining at last all his daughter's +love, especially after the terrible misunderstanding that had divided +her from him, Dalton had no thought for those grave dangers which +surrounded both her and him. But to Edith these dangers still appeared, +and they were most formidable. She could not forget that she was still +liable to arrest on the most appalling of accusations, and that her +father also was liable to discovery and re-arrest. Reginald had tried +to banish her fears and inspire her with hope; but now that he was no +longer near, her position was revealed, and the full possibility of her +danger could no longer be concealed. + +Danger there indeed was, danger most formidable, not to her only, but to +all of them. Coward Sir Lionel might be, but a coward when at bay is +dangerous, since he is desperate. Sir Lionel also was powerful, since +he was armed with all the force that may be given by wealth and +position, and in his despair his utmost resources would undoubtedly be +put forth. Those despairing efforts would be aimed at all of them--all +were alike threatened: herself on the old charge, her father as an +escaped convict, and Reginald as a perjurer and a conspirator against +the ends of justice. As to Lady Dudleigh, she knew not what to think, +but she was aware of Reginald's fears about her and she shared them to +the fullest extent. + +In the midst of all this Edith received letter from Miss Plympton. She +was just recovering, she said, from a severe illness, consequent on +anxiety about her. She had heard the terrible tidings of her arrest, +but of late had been cheered by the news of her release. The letter was +most loving, and revealed all the affection of her "second mother." Yet +so true was Miss Plympton to the promise which she had made to Mr. +Dalton, that she did not allude to the great secret which had once been +disclosed to her. + +Edith read the letter with varied feelings, and thought with an aching +heart of her reception of that other letter. This letter, however, met +with a different fate. She answered it at once, and told all about her +father, concluding with the promise to go and visit her as soon as she +could. + +And now all her thoughts and hopes were centred upon Reginald. Where +was he? Where was Lady Dudleigh? Had he found Leon? What would Sir +Lionel do? Such were the thoughts that never ceased to agitate her +mind. + +He had been gone a whole week. She had heard nothing from him. +Accustomed as she had been to see him every day for so long a time, this +week seemed prolonged to the extent of a month; and as he had promised +to write her under any circumstances, she could not account for his +failure to keep that promise. His silence alarmed her. As day +succeeded to day, and still no letter came, she became a prey to all +those fearful fancies which may be raised by a vivid imagination, when +one is in suspense about the fate of some dearly loved friend. + +Her father, whose watchful love made him observant of every one of her +varying moods, could not avoid noticing the sadness and agitation of her +face and manner, and was eager to know the cause. This, however, +Edith's modesty would not allow her to explain, but she frankly +confessed that she was anxious. Her anxiety she attributed to her fears +about their situation, and her dread lest something might be found out +about the imposture of Reginald, or about her father's real character +and personality. The fear was not an idle one, and Dalton, though he +tried to soothe her, was himself too well aware of the danger that +surrounded both of them to be very successful in his efforts. + +All this time a steady improvement had been taking place in Dalton's +health, and his recovery from his illness was rapid and continuous. It +was Edith's love and care and sympathy which thus gave strength to him, +and the joy which he felt in her presence was the best medicine for his +afflictions. + +Thus one day he was at last able to venture outside. It was something +more than a week since Reginald had left. Edith was more anxious than +ever, but strove to conceal her anxiety and to drown her own selfish +cares under more assiduous attentions to that father whose whole being +now seemed so to centre upon her. For this purpose she had persuaded +him to leave the Hall, and come forth into the grounds; and the two were +now walking in front of the Hall, around the pond, Edith supporting her +father's feeble footsteps, and trying to cheer him by pointing out some +improvements which ought to be made, while the old man, with his mind +full of sweet peace, thought it happiness enough for him to lean on her +loving arm and hear her sweet voice as she spoke those words of love +which for so many years he had longed to hear. + +In the midst of this they were startled by the approach of several men. + +Visitors were rare at Dalton Hall. Before the recent troubles they had +been prohibited, and though during Dalton's illness the prohibition had +been taken off, yet there were few who cared to pass those gates. Upon +this occasion the approach of visitors gave a sudden shock to Edith and +her father, and when they saw that the chief one among those visitors +was the sheriff, that shock was intensified. + +Yes, the moment had come which they both had dreaded. All was known. +The danger which they had feared was at hand, and each one trembled for +the other. Edith thought that it was her father who was sought after. +Dalton shuddered as he thought that his innocent daughter was once more +in the grasp of the law. + +The sheriff approached, followed by three others, who were evidently +officers of the law. Dalton and Edith stood awaiting them, and Edith +felt her father's hands clasp her arm in a closer and more tremulous +embrace. + +The sheriff greeted them with a mournful face and evident embarrassment. +His errand was a painful one, and it was rendered doubly so by the +piteous sight before him--the feeble old man thus clinging to that +sad-faced young girl, the woe-worn father thus supported by the daughter +whose own experience of life had been so bitter. + +"My business," said the sheriff, "is a most painful one. Forgive me, +Mrs. Dudleigh. Forgive me, Mr. Dalton. I did not know till now how +painful it would be." + +He had greeted them in silence, removing his hat respectfully, and +bowing before this venerable old age and this sad-faced beauty, and then +had said these words with some abruptness. And as soon as he named that +name "Dalton," they both understood that he knew all. + +"You have come for me?" said Dalton. "Very well." + +A shudder passed through Edith. She flung her arms about her father, +and placed herself before him, as if to interpose between him and that +terrible fate which still pursued its innocent victim. She turned her +large mournful eyes upon the sheriff with a look of silent horror, but +said not a word. + +"I can not help it," said the sheriff, in still deeper embarrassment. +"I feel for you, for both of yon, but you must come with me." + +"Oh, spare him!" cried Edith. "He is ill. He has just risen from his +bed. Leave him here. He is not fit to go. Let me nurse him." + +The sheriff looked at her in increasing embarrassment, with a face full +of pity. + +"I am deeply grieved," he said, in a low voice, "but I can not do +otherwise. I must do my duty. You, Mrs. Dudleigh, must come also. I +have a warrant for you too." + +"What!" groaned Dalton; "for her?" + +The sheriff said nothing. The old man's face had such an expression of +anguish that words were useless. + +"Again!" murmured Dalton. "Again! and on that false charge! She will +die! she will die!" + +"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Edith. "Do not think of me. I can bear it. +There is no danger for me. It is for you only that I am anxious." + +"My child! my darling Edith!" groaned the unhappy father, "this is my +work--this is what I have wrought for you." + +Edith pressed her father to her heart. She raised her pale face, and, +looking upward, sighed out in her agony of soul, + +"O God! Is there any justice in heaven, when this is the justice of +earth!" + +Nothing more was said. No one had any thing to say. This double arrest +was something too terrible for words, and the darkest forebodings came +to the mind of each one of these unhappy victims of the law. And thus, +in silence and in fear, they were led away--to prison and to judgment. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + + +THE BROTHERS. + +On leaving Dalton Hall Reginald went to the place mentioned by Miss +Fortescue. It was on the railway, and was about four miles from +Dudleigh Manor. Here he found Miss Fortescue. + +She told him that she had tried to find Leon by making inquiries every +where among his old haunts, but without any success whatever. At last +she concluded that, since he was in such strict hiding, Dudleigh Manor +itself would not be an unlikely place in which to find him. She had +come here, and, after disguising herself with her usual skill, had made +inquiries of the porter with as much adroitness as possible. All her +efforts, however, were quite in vain. The porter could not be caught +committing himself in any way, but professed to have seen nothing of the +missing man for months. She would have come away from this experiment in +despair had it not been for one circumstance, which, though small in +itself, seemed to her to have very deep meaning. It was this. While she +was talking with the porter a dog came up, which at once began to fawn +on her. This amazed the porter, who did not like the appearance of +things, and tried to drive the dog away. But Miss Fortescue had in an +instant recognized the dog of Leon, well known to herself, and once a +great pet. + +This casual appearance of the dog seemed to her the strongest possible +proof that Leon was now in that very place. He must have been left +purposely in Dalton Park for a few days, probably having been stationed +at that very spot which he kept so persistently. If so, the same one who +left him there must have brought him here. It was inconceivable that the +dog could have found his way here alone from Dalton Park. In addition to +this, the porter's uneasiness at the dog's recognition of her was of +itself full of meaning. + +This was all that she had been able to find out, but this was enough. +Fearful that Leon might suspect who she was, she had written to Reginald +at once; and now that he had come, she urged him to go to Dudleigh Manor +himself and find out the truth. + +There was no need to urge Reginald. His anxiety about his mother was +enough to make him anxious to lose no time, but the prospect of finding +Leon made him now doubly anxious. It was already evening however, and he +would have to defer his visit until the following day. + +At about nine o'clock the next morning Reginald Dudleigh stood at his +father's gate--the gate of that home from which he had been so long an +exile. The porter came out to open it, and stared at him in surprise. + +"I didn't know you was out, Sir," he said. + +Evidently the porter had mistaken him for Leon. This address assured him +of the fact of Leon's presence. The porter was a new hand, and Reginald +did not think it worth while to explain. He entered silently while the +porter held the gate open, and then walked up the long avenue toward the +manor-house. + +The door was open. He walked in. Some servants were moving about, who +seemed think his presence a matter of course. These also evidently +mistook him for Leon; and these things, slight as they were, assured him +that his brother must be here. Yet in spite of the great purpose for +which he had come--a purpose, as he felt, of life and death, and even +more--in spite of this, he could not help pausing for a moment as he +found himself within these familiar precincts, in the home of his +childhood, within sight of objects so well remembered, so long lost to +view. + +But it was only for a few moments. The first rush of feeling passed, and +then there came back the recollection of all that lay before him, of all +that depended upon this visit. He walked on. He reached the great +stairway. He ascended it. He came to the great hall up stairs. On one +side was the drawing-room, on the other the library. The former was +empty, but in the latter there was a solitary occupant. He was seated at +a table, writing. So intent was this man in his occupation that he did +not hear the sound of approaching footsteps, or at least did not regard +them; for even as Reginald stood looking at him, he went on with his +writing. His back was turned toward the door, so that Reginald could not +see his face, but the outline of the figure was sufficient. Reginald +stood for a moment looking at him. Then he advanced toward the writer, +and laid his hand upon his shoulder. + +The writer gave a sudden start, leaped from his chair, and turned round. +There was fear on his face--the fear of one who is on the look-out for +sudden danger--a fear without a particle of recognition. But gradually +the blankness of his terrified face departed, and there came a new +expression--an expression in which there was equal terror, yet at the +same time a full recognition of the danger before him. + +It was Leon Dudleigh. + +Reginald said not one word, but looked at him with a stern, relentless +face. + +As these two thus stood looking at one another, each saw in the other's +face the marvelous resemblance to himself, which had been already so +striking to others, and so bewildering. But the expression was totally +different. Aside from the general air characteristic of each, there was +the look that had been called up by the present meeting. Reginald +confronted his brother with a stern, menacing gaze, and a look of +authority that was more than the ordinary look which might belong to an +elder brother. Leon's face still kept its look of fear, and there +seemed to be struggling with this fear an impulse to fly, which he was +unable to obey. Reginald looked like the master, Leon like the culprit +and the slave. + +Leon was the first to speak. + +"You--here!" he faltered. + +"Where else should I be?" said Reginald, in a stern voice. + +"What do you want?" asked Leon, rallying from his fear, and apparently +encouraged by the sound of his own voice. + +"What do I want?" repeated Reginald. "Many things. First, I want you; +secondly, my mother." + +"You won't get any thing out of me," said Leon, fiercely. + +"In the first place, the sight of you is one of the chief things," said +Reginald, with a sneer. "After having heard your sad fate, it is +something to see you here in the flesh." + +"It's that infernal porter!" cried Leon, +half to himself. + +"What do you mean? Do you blame him for letting me +in--_me_--Reginald Dudleigh-your elder brother?" + +"You're disinherited," growled Leon. + +"Pooh!" said Reginald. "How can the eldest son be disinherited? But I'm +not going to waste time. I have come to call you to account for what +you have done, and I have that to say to you which you must hear, and, +what is more, you must obey." + +If Leon's face could have grown whiter than it already was, it would +have become so at these words. His fear seemed swallowed up in a wild +overmastering rush of fury and indignation. He started back and seized +the bell-rope. + +"I don't know you!" he almost yelled. "Who are you!" Saying this he +pulled the bell-rope again and again. "Who are you?" he repeated over +and over again, pulling the bell-rope as he spoke. "I'll have you +turned out. You're an infernal impostor! Who are you? I can prove that +Reginald Dudleigh is dead. I'll have you turned out. I'll have you +turned out." + +While he was speaking, his frantic and repeated tugs at the bell had +roused the house. Outside the rush of footsteps was heard, and soon a +crowd of servants poured into the room. + +"You scoundrels!" roared Leon. "What do you mean by letting strangers in +here in this way? Put this fellow out! Put him out! Curse you! why don't +you collar him and put him out?" + +As the servants entered, Reginald turned half round and faced them. Leon +shouted out these words, and shook his fist toward his brother, while +the servants stared in amazement at the astonishing spectacle. The two +brothers stood there before them, the one calm and self-possessed, the +other infuriated with excitement; but the wonderful resemblance between +them held the servants spell-bound. + +As soon as he could make himself heard Reginald spoke. + +"You will do nothing of the kind. Most of you are new faces, but some +of you remember me. Holder," said he, as his eyes wandering over the +faces before him, rested upon one, "don't you know your young master? +Have you forgotten Reginald Dudleigh?" + +As he said this an old man came forth from the rear and looked at him, +with his hands clasped together and his eyes full of tears. + +"Lord be merciful to us all," he cried with a trembling voice, "if it +beant Master Reginald hisself come back to life again and me mournin' +over him as dead! Oh Master Reginald, but it's glad I am this day. And +where have ye been?" + +"Never mind, old man," said Reginald, kindly; "you'll know soon enough." +Saying this, he shook the old man's hand, and then turned with lowering +brow once more upon Leon. + +"Leon," said he, "none of this foolery, You found out what I am when you +were a boy. None of this hysterical excitement. _I_ am master +here." + +But Leon made no reply. With his face now on fire with rage, he +retreated a few steps and looked under the table. He called quickly to +something that was there, and as he called, a huge dog came forth and +stood by his side. This dog he led forward, and pointed at Reginald. + +The servants looked on with pale faces at this scene, overcome with +horror as they saw Leon's purpose. + +"Go," said Leon, fiercely, to Reginald, "or you'll be sorry." + +Reginald said nothing, but put his hand into his breast pocket and drew +forth a revolver. It was not a very common weapon in England in those +days, but Reginald had picked one up in his wanderings, and had brought +it with him on the present occasion. Leon, however, did not seem to +notice it. He was intent on one purpose, and that was to drive Reginald +away. + +He therefore put his hand on the dog's head, and, pointing toward his +brother, shouted, "At him, Sir!" The dog hesitated for a moment. His +master called again. The huge brute gathered himself up. One more cry +from the now frenzied Leon, and the dog gave a tremendous leap forward +full at Reginald's throat. + +A cry of horror burst from the servants. They were by no means +oversensitive, but this scene was too terrible. + +The dog sprang. + +But at that instant the loud report of Reginald's revolver rang through +the house, and the fierce beast, with a sharp howl, fell back, and lay +on the floor writhing in his death agony. The wound was a mortal one. + +Reginald replaced his pistol in his pocket. + +"I'm sorry for the poor beast," said he, as he looked at the dog for a +moment, "but I could not help it. And you," he continued, turning to the +servants, "go down stairs. When I want you I will call for you. Holder +will tell you who I am." + +At this the servants all retreated, overawed by the look and manner of +this new master. + +The shot of the pistol seemed to have overwhelmed Leon. He shrank back, +and stared by turns at Reginald and the dog, with a white face and a +scowling-brow. + +After the servants had gone, Reginald walked up to him. + +[Illustration: THE FIERCE BEAST, WITH A SHARP HOWL, FELL BACK.] + +"I will have no more words," said he, fiercely. "I'm your master now, +Leon, as I always have been. You are in my power now. You must either +do as I bid you, or else go to jail. I have taken up all your notes; I +have paid more than forty thousand pounds, and I now hold those notes of +yours. I do not intend to let you go till you do what I wish. If you +don't, I will take you from this place and put you in jail. I have +warrants all ready, and in the proper hands. The officers are waiting +in the neighborhood. Besides these claims, I shall have charges against +you of a graver kind; you know what, so that you can not escape. Now +listen. I am your only creditor now, and your only accuser. You need +not hide any longer, or fly from the country. Confess; come to terms +with me, and you shall be a free man; refuse, and you shall suffer the +very worst that the law inflicts. If you do not come to terms with me, +you are lost. I give you only this chance. You can do nothing. You +can not harm Miss Dalton now, for I have found you out, and your +miserable trick is of no use any longer. Come, now; decide at once. I +will give you just ten minutes. If you come to terms, you are safe; if +not, you go to jail." + +"Who'll take me!" said Leon, in a surly voice. + +"_I_," said Reginald--"_I_, with my own hands. I will take +you out of this place, and hand you over to the officers who are waiting +not very far away." + +Saying this, Reginald looked at his watch, and then replacing it, turned +once more to Leon. + +"Your tricks have failed. I will produce you as you are, and Miss +Dalton will be safe. You'll have to explain it all in court, so you may +as well explain it to me. I don't want to be hard with you. I know you +of old, and have forgiven other villainies of yours. You can't take +vengeance on any one. Even your silence will be of no use. You must +choose between a confession to me now, or a general confession in court. +Besides, even if you could have vengeance, it wouldn't be worth so much +to a man like you as what I offer you. I offer you freedom. I will +give you back all your notes and bonds. You will be no longer in any +danger. More, I will help you. I don't want to use harsh measures if I +can help it. Don't be a fool. Do as I say, and accept my offer. If +you don't, I swear, after what you've done I'll show you no more mercy +than I showed your dog." + +Leon was silent. His face grew more tranquil. He was evidently +affected by his brother's words. He stood, in thought, with his eyes +fixed on the floor. Debt was a great evil. Danger was around him. +Freedom was a great blessing. Thus far he had been safe only because he +had been in hiding. Besides, he was powerless now, and his knowledge of +Reginald, as he had been in early life, and as he saw him now, showed +him that his brother always meant what he said. + +"I don't believe you have those notes and bonds." + +"How could I know unless I paid them? I will tell you the names +concerned in most of them, and the amounts." + +And Reginald thereupon enumerated several creditors, with the amounts +due to each. By this Leon was evidently convinced. + +"And you've paid them?" said he. + +"Yes." + +"And you'll give them to me?" + +"I will. I am your only creditor now. I have found out and paid every +debt of yours. I did this to force you to come to term. That is all I +want. You see that this is for your interest. More, I will give you +enough to begin life on. Do you ask more than this?" + +Leon hesitated for a short time longer. + +"Well," said he at last, "what is it that you want me to do?" + +"First of all I want you to tell me about that infernal trick of yours +with--the body. Whose is it? Mind you, it's of no consequence now, so +long as you are alive, and can be produced; but I wish to know." + +With some hesitation Leon informed his brother. The information which +he gave confirmed the suspicions of Miss Fortescue. He had determined +to be avenged on Edith and her father, and after that night on which +Edith had escaped he had managed to procure a body in London from some +of the body-snatchers who supplied the medical schools there. He had +removed the head, and dressed it in the clothes which he had last worn. +He had taken it to Dalton Park and put it in the well about a week after +Edith's flight. He had never gone back to his room, but had purposely +left it as it was, so as to make his disappearance the more suspicious. +He himself had contrived to raise those frequent rumors which had arisen +and grown to such an extent that they had terminated in the search at +Dalton Park. Anonymous letters to various persons had suggested to them +the supposed guilt of Edith, and the probability of the remains being +found in the well. + +The horror which Reginald felt at this disclosure was largely mitigated +by the fact that he had already imagined some such proceeding as this, +for he had felt sure that it was a trick, and therefore it had only been +left to account for the trick. + +The next thing which Reginald had to investigate was the mock marriage. +But here he did not choose to question Leon directly about Edith. He +rather chose to investigate that earlier marriage with Miss Fortescue. + +By this time Leon's objections to confess had vanished. The inducements +which Reginald held out were of themselves attractive enough to one in +his desperate position, and, what was more, he felt that there was no +alternative. Having once begun, he seemed to grow accustomed to it, and +spoke with greater freedom. + +To Reginald's immense surprise and relief, Leon informed him that the +marriage with Miss Fortescue was not a mock marriage at all. For once +in his life he had been honest. The marriage had been a real one. It +was only after the affair in the Dalton vaults that he had pretended +that it was false. He did so in order to free himself from his real +wife, and gain some control over the Dalton estate. The Rev. Mr. Porter +was a bona fide clergyman, and the marriage had been conducted in a +legal manner. He had found out that the Rev. Mr. Porter had gone to +Scotland, and saw that he could easily deceive his wife. + +"But," said Reginald, "what is the reason that your wife could never +find him out? She looked over all the lists of clergymen, and wrote to +all of the name of Porter. She could not find him." + +"Naturally enough," said Leon, indifferently. "She supposed that he +belonged to the Church, because he used the Church service; but he was a +Presbyterian." + +"Where is he now?" + +"When last I heard about him he was at Falkirk." + +"Then Miss Fortescue was regularly married, and is now your wife?" + +"She is my wife," said Leon. + +At this Reginald was silent for some time. The joy that filled his +heart at this discovery was so great that for a time it drove away those +other thoughts, deep and dread, that had taken possession of him. But +these thoughts soon returned. + +"One thing more," said he, in an anxious voice. "Leon, where is my +mother?" + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + + +THE SONS AND THEIR FATHER. + +"Where is my mother?" + +Such was Reginald's last question. He asked it as though Lady Dudleigh +was only _his_ mother, and not the mother of Leon also. But the +circumstances of his past life had made his father and his brother seem +like strangers, and his mother seemed all his own. + +At this question Leon stared at him with a look of surprise that was +evidently unfeigned. + +"Your mother?" he repeated. + +"I do not say _our_ mother," said Reginald. "I say _my_ +mother. Where is she?" + +"I swear I know nothing about her," said Leon, earnestly. "I have never +seen her." + +"You have never seen her?" repeated Reginald, in a tremulous voice. + +"Never," said Leon; "that is, not since she left this place ten years +ago." + +"You saw her at Dalton Hall!" cried Reginald. + +"At Dalton Hall? I did not," said Leon. + +"Mrs. Dunbar, she called herself. You saw her often." + +"Mrs. Dunbar! Good Heavens!" cried Leon, in unaffected surprise. "How +was I to know that?" + +Reginald looked at him gloomily and menacingly. + +"Leon," said he, in a stern voice, "if you dare to deceive me about +this, I will show no mercy. You must tell _all_--yes, _all_." + +"But I tell you I don't know any thing about her," said Leon; "I swear I +don't. I'll tell every thing that I know. No such person has ever been +here." + +Reginald looked at his brother with a gloomy frown; but Leon's tone +seemed sincere, and the thought came to him that his brother could have +no reason for concealment. If Leon did not know, he would have to seek +what he wished from another--his father. His father and his mother had +gone off together; that father alone could tell. + +"Where is Sir Lionel?" asked Reginald, as these thoughts came to him. He +called him "Sir Lionel." He could not call him "father." + +Leon looked at him with a strange expression. + +"He is here," said he. + +"Where shall I find him? I want to see him at once. Is he in his room?" + +Leon hesitated. + +"Quick!" said Reginald, impatiently. "Why don't you answer?" + +"You won't get much satisfaction out of him," said Leon, in a peculiar +voice. + +"I'll find out what he knows. I'll tear the secret out of him," cried +Reginald, fiercely. "Where is he? Come with me. Take me to him." + +"You'll find it rather hard to get any thing out of him," said Leon, +with a short laugh. "He's beyond even your reach, and your courts of +law too." + +"What do you mean?" cried Reginald. + +"Well, you may see for yourself," said Leon. "You won't be satisfied, I +suppose, unless you do. Come along. You needn't be alarmed. I won't run. +I'll stick to my part of our agreement, if you stick to yours." + +With these words Leon led the way out of the library, and Reginald +followed. They went up a flight of stairs and along a hall to the +extreme end. Here Leon stopped at a door, and proceeded to take a key +from his pocket. This action surprised Reginald. He remembered the room +well. In his day it had not been used at all, except on rare occasions, +and had been thus neglected on account of its gloom and dampness. + +"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, gloomily, looking suspiciously +at the key. + +"Oh, you'll see soon enough," said Leon. + +With these words he inserted the key in the lock as noiselessly as +possible, and then gently turned the bolt. Having done this, he opened +the door a little, and looked in with a cautions movement. These +proceedings puzzled Reginald still more, and he tried in vain to +conjecture what their object might be. + +One cautious look satisfied Leon. He opened the door wider, and said, in +a low voice, to his brother, + +"Come along; he's quiet just now." + +With these words he entered, and held the door for Reginald to pass +through. Without a moment's hesitation Reginald went into the room. He +took but one step, and then stopped, rooted to the floor by the sight +that met his eyes. + +The room was low, and had no furniture but an iron bed. There were two +small, deep windows, over which the ivy had grown so closely that it +dimmed the light, and threw an air of gloom over the scene. + +Upon the iron bed was seated a strange figure, the sight of which sent a +thrill of horror through Reginald's frame. It was a thin, emaciated +figure, worn and bent. His hair was as white as snow; his beard and +mustache were short and stubbly, as though they were the growth of but a +few weeks; while his whiskers were bushy and matted together. + +Over this figure a quilt was thrown in a fantastic manner, under which +appeared a long night-gown, from which thin bare legs protruded, with +bare, gaunt, skeleton-like feet. + +As he sat there his eyes wandered about on vacancy; a silly smile was on +his white, worn face; he kept muttering to himself continually some +incoherent and almost inaudible sentences; and at the same time his long +bony fingers kept clawing and picking at the quilt which covered him. + +[Illustration: "UPON THE IRON BED WAS SEATED A STRANGE FIGURE."] + +At first Reginald could scarce believe what he saw; but there was the +fact before his eyes, and the terrible truth could not be denied that in +this wretched creature before him was the wreck of that one who but a +short time before had seemed to him to be a powerful and unscrupulous +villain, full of the most formidable plans for inflicting fresh wrongs +upon those whom he had already so foully injured. Reginald had seen him +for a few moments at the trial, and had noticed that the ten eventful +years for which they had been parted had made but little difference in +his appearance. The casual glimpses of him which he afterward had +caught showed some change, but nothing very striking; but now the change +was terrible, the transformation was hideous; the strong man had become +a shattered wreck; the once vigorous mind had sunk into a state of +helpless imbecility and driveling idiocy. + +Leon shut the door, and turning the key, stood looking on. The slight +noise which he made attracted the wandering gaze of the madman. He +started slightly, and stood up, wrapping the quilt carefully around him. +Then, with a silly smile, he advanced a few paces. + +"Well, Dr. Morton," he said, in a weak, quavering voice, "you have +received my letter, I hope. Here is this person that I wrote about. Her +name is Mrs. Dunbar. She is an old dependent. She is mad--ha, ha!--mad. +Yes, mad, doctor. She thinks she is my wife. She calls herself Lady +Dudleigh. But, doctor, her real name is Mrs. Dunbar. She is mad, +doctor--mad--mad--mad. Ha, ha, ha!" + +At these words a terrible suspicion came to Reginald's mind. The madman +had still prominent in his thoughts the idea which he had lately been +carrying out. Could there be any truth in these words, or were they mere +fancies? He said not a word, but looked and listened in anxious silence. +He had felt a moment's pity for this man, who, wretch though he had +been, was still his father; but now his mother's image rose before +him--his mother, pale, suffering, and perhaps despairing--and in his +eager desire to learn her fate, all softer feelings for his father died +out. + +"You must keep her, Dr. Morton," said Sir Lionel, in the same tone. "You +know what she wants. I will pay you well. Money is no object. You must +keep her close--close--yes, close as the grave. She is incurable, +doctor. She must never come out of this place with her mad fancies. For +she is mad--mad--mad--mad--mad. Oh yes. Ha, ha, ha!" + +Sir Lionel then smiled as before, and chuckled to himself, while a leer +of cunning triumph flashed for a moment from his wandering eyes. +"Trapped!" he ejaculated, softly. "Trapped! The keeper! The keeper +trapped! She thought she was my keeper! And so she was. But she was +trapped--yes, trapped. The keeper trapped! Ha, ha, ha! She thought it +was an inn," he continued, after a brief silence, in which he chuckled +to himself over the remembrance of his scheme; "and so she was trapped. +The keeper was caught herself, and found herself in a mad-house! And +she'll never get out--never! She's mad. They'll all believe it. Mad! +Yes, mad--and in a mad-house! Ha, ha, ha! There's Lady Dudleigh for +you! But she's Mrs. Dunbar now. Ha, ha, ha!" + +Reginald's eagerness to learn more was uncontrollable. In his impatience +to find out he could no longer wait for his father's stray confessions. + +"What mad-house? Where?" he asked, eagerly and abruptly. + +Sir Lionel did not look at him. But the question came to him none the +less. It came to him as if it had been prompted by his own thoughts, and +he went on upon the new idea which this question started. + +"She saw me write it, too--the letter--and she saw me write the address. +There it was as plain as day--the address. Dr. Morton, I wrote, +Lichfield Asylum, Lichfield, Berks. But she didn't look at it. She +helped me put it in the post-office. Trapped! Trapped! Oh yes--the +keeper trapped!" he continued. "She thought we were going to Dudleigh +Manor, but we were going to Lichfield Asylum. And we stopped there. And +she stopped there. And she is there now. Trapped! Ha, ha, ha! And, my +good doctor, keep her close, for she's mad. Oh yes--mad--mad--mad--and +very dangerous!" + +The wretched man now began to totter from weakness, and finally sat down +upon the floor. Here he gathered his quilt about him, and began to smile +and chuckle and wag his head and pick at his fantastic dress as before. +The words which he muttered were inaudible, and those which could be +heard were utterly incoherent. The subject that had been presented to +his mind by the entrance of Reginald was now forgotten, and his thoughts +wandered at random, like the thoughts of a feverish dream, without +connection and without meaning. + +Reginald turned away. He could no longer endure so painful a spectacle. +He had been long estranged from his father, and he had come home for the +sake of obtaining justice from that father, for the sake of the innocent +man who had suffered so unjustly and so terribly, and whom he loved as a +second father. Yet here there was a spectacle which, if he had been a +vengeful enemy, would have filled him with horror. One only feeling was +present in his mind now to alleviate that horror, and this was a sense +of profound relief that this terrible affliction had not been wrought by +any action of his. He had no hand in it. It had come upon his father +either as the gradual result of years of anxiety, or as the immediate +effect of the sudden appearance of Dalton and his wife. + +But for these thoughts there was no leisure. His whole mind was filled +with but one idea--his mother. In a few moments they were outside the +room. The madman was left to himself, and Reginald questioned Leon about +him. + +"I have heard all this before," said Leon. "He came home very queer, +and before a week was this way. I put him in there to keep him out of +mischief. I feed him myself. No one else goes near him. I've had a +doctor up, but he could do nothing. He has often talked in this way +about trapping someone, but he never mentioned any name till today. He +never did--I swear he never did. I swear I had no idea that he had +reference to my--to Lady Dudleigh. I thought it was some crazy fancy +about Mr. Dalton--some scheme of his for 'trapping' him. I did--I +swear." + +Such was Leon's statement, extorted from him by the fiercest of +cross-questionings on the part of Reginald, accompanied by most savage +threats. + +Leon, however, swore that he thought it referred to a scheme of his +father's to "trap" Dalton, and shut him up in a mad-house. If it was +true that no names had been mentioned, Reginald saw that it was quite +possible that Leon might have supposed what he said, though his +knowledge of his brother did not lead him to place any particular +confidence in his statement, even when accompanied by an oath. + +It now remained to find out, without delay, the place which the madman +had revealed. Reginald remembered it well: _Dr. Morton, Lichfield +Asylum, Lichfield, Berks._ Leon also said that the same name had been +always mentioned. There could not, therefore, be any mistake about this, +and it only remained to find out where it was. + +Leon knew both the man and the place, and told all that he knew, not +because he had a particle of affection for his mother, but because he +wished to satisfy Reginald, so as to gain that freedom which his brother +only could give him. He had been the intimate confidant of his father, +and this Dr. Morton had been connected with them previously in another +affair. He was therefore able to give explicit information about the +place, and the quickest manner of reaching it. + +Reginald set off that very day. + +"It will be better for you to stay here," said he to Leon, as he was +leaving, in a significant tone. + +"Oh, I'll stay," said Leon. "If you act square, that's all I want. Give +me those notes and bonds, and I'll never trouble you or yours again." + +Before leaving he obtained from Leon further information about his first +marriage with Miss Fortescue. This he communicated to Leon's wife, whom +he found waiting for him in great suspense. As soon as she heard it she +set out for London to find the witness mentioned by Leon; after which +she intended to go to Falkirk in search of the clergyman. + +After parting with Leon's wife, Reginald left by the first train, _en +route_ for Dr. Morton's asylum at Lichfield, in accordance with +Leon's directions. On the middle of the following day he reached the +place. + +He came there accompanied by two officers of the law, who had a warrant +for the arrest of Dr. Morton on a charge of conspiracy and illegal +imprisonment. That distinguished physician came down to see his +visitors, under the impression that one of them was a patient, and was +very much surprised when he found himself under arrest. Still more +surprised was he when Reginald asked him, fiercely, after Lady Dudleigh. + +In a few moments the door of Lady Dudleigh's room was flung open, and +the almost despairing inmate found herself in the arms of her son. She +looked feeble and emaciated, though not so much so as Reginald had +feared. She had known too much of the sorrows of life to yield +altogether to this new calamity. Her chief grief had been about others, +the fear that they might have become the prey of the villain who had +shut her in here; but in spite of her terrible suspense, she struggled +against the gloom of her situation, and tried to hope for release. It +had come at last, and with it came also the news that there was no +longer any need for her or for Reginald to take any proceedings against +the guilty husband and father, since he had been struck down by a more +powerful arm. + +When they went away, Dr. Morton was taken away also. In due time he was +tried on the charge above mentioned. He showed, however, that Lady +Dudleigh had been put under his care by Sir Lionel himself, and in the +usual way; that Sir Lionel had specified the nature of her insanity to +consist in the belief that she was his wife, and that so long as she +maintained that belief he thought her actually insane. He showed that, +apart from that confinement which he had deemed requisite, she had been +treated with no unnecessary cruelty. Many other things he also showed, +by means of which he contrived to obtain an acquittal. Still, so much +came out in the course of the trial, and so very narrow was his escape, +and so strong was his fear of being re-arrested on other charges, that +he concluded to emigrate to another country, and this he did without +delay. + +But Reginald returned at once with his mother to Dudleigh Manor. Here +Lady Dudleigh for a few days sank under the effects of the accumulated +troubles through which she had passed, and when at length she was able +to move about, Sir Lionel was the first one of whom she thought, and she +at once devoted herself to him. But the wretched man was already beyond +the reach of her care. His strength was failing rapidly; he refused all +nourishment; his mind was a hopeless wreck; he recognized no one; and +all that was now left to the wife to do was to watch over him and nurse +him as patiently as possible until the end, which she knew must be near. + +In the excitement consequent upon his first return, his interviews with +Leon and Sir Lionel, his rescue of Lady Dudleigh, and his deep anxiety +about her after her release. Reginald had sent no word to Edith of any +kind. This arose neither from neglect nor forgetfulness, but because +his surroundings were too sad, and he had not the heart to write to her +until some brighter prospect should appear. His mother's short illness +at first alarmed him; but this passed away, and on her recovery he felt +sufficiently cheerful to send to Edith an account of all that had +occurred. + +Ten days had passed since he parted with +her. On the day after he wrote to her he +received a letter from her. It was the first +communication that he had received. + +That letter conveyed to him awful intelligence. It informed him of the +arrest of Edith and Frederick Dalton. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + + +CONCLUSION. + +This intelligence was so terrible and so unexpected that for some time +he felt overwhelmed with utter horror. Then a dark suspicion came to +him that this was the work of Leon, who, enraged at his baffled schemes, +had dealt this last blow upon those whom he had already so deeply +wronged. This suspicion roused the utmost fury of Reginald's nature, +and he hurried forth at once to seek his brother. + +He found him sauntering up and down in front of the house. Leon had +remained here ever since his interview with Reginald, in accordance with +his promise. As he now saw his brother approach, he started, and looked +at him with an expression of astonishment not unmingled with terror. + +Without any preliminaries, Reginald at once assailed him with the most +vehement denunciations, and in a few burning words, fall of abhorrence +and wrath, he accused him of this new piece of villainy. + +"You're wrong--you're wrong--you're altogether wrong!" cried Leon, +eagerly. "I have done nothing--I swear I've done nothing! I've never +left the place. + +"You've sent word!" cried Reginald, furiously. + +"I have not--I swear I haven't!" said Leon. "I haven't written a line +to any one. I've had no communication whatever with a single soul." + +"It's your work, and yours only!" cried Reginald; "and, by Heaven, you +shall suffer for it! You've broken the agreement between us, and now +I'll show you no mercy!" + +"I haven't broken it! I swear by all that's most holy!" cried Leon, +earnestly. "I see how it is. This is merely the result of the old +rumors--the old work going on. I swear it is! Besides, what danger can +happen to Miss Dalton? I need only show myself. I'll go there with you +at once. Can I do more than that? When I am seen alive, there is no +more danger for her. Do you think I'd be such an infernal fool as to +work out such a piece of spite, which I would know to be utterly +useless? No. I only want to wind up the whole affair, and get my +freedom. I'll go there with you or without you, and make it all right +so far as she is concerned. There. Can I do any thing more?" + +These words mollified Reginald in some degree, since they showed that, +after all, this new trouble might, as Leon said, have arisen from old +machinations, as their natural result, and did not necessarily involve +any new action on Leon's part. + +"I'll go," said Reginald, "and you shall go with me; but if I find that +you have played me false this time, by Heaven, I'll crush you!" + +Reginald, accompanied by Leon, hurried off at once to the succor of +Edith, and arrived there on the following day. It was the fifth day of +their imprisonment, but, to Reginald's immense relief, this new +misfortune did not seem to have affected either of them so painfully as +he had feared. For to Edith imprisonment was familiar now, and this +time she had the discovery of Miss Fortescue to console her. Besides, +she had her father to think of and to care for. The kindness of the +authorities had allowed the two to be together as much as possible; and +Edith, in the endeavor to console her father, had forced herself to look +on the brighter side of things, and to hope for the best. + +Dalton, too, had borne this arrest with equanimity. After the first +shock was past he thought over all that was most favorable to escape +rather than the gloomier surroundings of a situation like his. For +himself he cared nothing. To be brought once more before a court of law +was desirable rather than otherwise. His arrangements for his own +vindication were all complete, and he knew that the court could only +acquit him with honor. But about Edith he felt an anxiety which was +deeper than he cared to show, for he did not know how the evidence +against her would be received. + +The arrival of Reginald, however, drove away every fear. He brought the +missing man himself. All was now explained. The news ran through the +community like wildfire, and public opinion, which had so severely +prejudged Edith, now turned around with a flood of universal sympathy in +her favor. Some formalities had to be undergone, and then she was free. + +The circumstances that had brought to light Edith's innocence served +also to make known the innocence, the wrongs, and the sufferings of the +father. The whole story of Dalton was made public through the exertions +of Reginald, and society, which had once condemned him, now sought to +vindicate him. But the work of vindication had to be done elsewhere, +and in a more formal manner. Until then Dalton had to wait; yet this +much of benefit he received from public sympathy, that he was allowed to +go free and live at Dalton Hall until the law should finally decide his +fate. + +Long before that decision Sir Lionel passed away from the judgment of +man to answer or his crimes at a higher tribunal. He passed away in his +madness, unconscious of the presence of that wife whom he had doomed to +exile, and who now, his only attendant, sought to soothe the madman's +last moments. But the measures that were taken to vindicate Dalton were +successful. Lady Dudleigh and Reginald could give their evidence in his +favor without the fear of dealing out death to one so near as Sir +Lionel. Death had already come to him, sent by a mightier power, and +Dalton's vindication involved no new anguish. So it was that Frederick +Dalton was at length cleared of that guilt that had so long clung to +him; and if any thing could atone for his past sufferings, it was the +restoration of his name to its ancient honor, the public expression of +sympathy from the court and from the world, and the deep joy of Edith +over such a termination to his sorrows. + +But this was a work of time. Before this Reginald and Edith were +married. They lived at Dudleigh Manor, for the associations of Dalton +Hall were too painful, and Edith did not care to make a home in her old +prison-house. To her father, too, the Hall was distasteful as a +residence, and he made his abode with his daughter, who was now the only +one on earth in whom he took any interest. But Dalton Hall was not +untenanted. Lady Dudleigh lived there in the old home of her childhood, +and passed her time in works of charity. She made an effort to reclaim +Leon, and succeeded in keeping him with her for a few weeks; but the +quiet life soon proved intolerable, and he wandered away at length to +other scenes. + +Reginald had dealt faithfully and even generously by him. After all his +crimes and villainies, he could not forget that he was his brother, and +he had done all in his power to renew his life for him. He had given +him all the claims which he had collected, and thus had freed him from +debt. He had also given him money enough to enable him to start afresh +in life. But the money was soon gone, and the habits which, Leon had +formed made any change for the better impossible. He wandered away into +his former associations and became a miserable vagabond, constantly +sinking down deep into misery, to be saved for a time by his mother's +assistance, but only to sink once more. + +Mention must be made of two others before this story closes. + +One of these is Leon's wife. She went away from Dudleigh Manor to +Scotland in search of the clergyman who had married her. She succeeded +in finding him, and in obtaining from him a formal certificate of her +marriage. This, however, was not for the purpose of acquiring any hold +whatever upon Leon, but rather for the sake of her own honor, and also +out of regard for Edith, whom she wished to free from the last shadow of +that evil which her own deceit had thrown upon the innocent girl. After +this she was satisfied. She did not seek Leon again, nor did she ever +again see him. She retired from the world altogether, and joining a +sisterhood of mercy, devoted the remainder of her life to acts of +charity and humanity. + +Last of all remains Miss Plympton, with whom this story began, and with +whom it may end. That good lady recovered from the illness into which +she had fallen on account of her anxiety about Edith, and was able to +visit her not long after her release from her last imprisonment. She +had given up her school; and as she had no home, she yielded to Edith's +affectionate entreaties, and found a new home with her, where she passed +the remainder of her days. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Living Link, by James De Mille + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVING LINK *** + +This file should be named lvlnk10.txt or lvlnk10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, lvlnk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, lvlnk10a.txt + +Produced by Rich Magahiz, David Moynihan +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/lvlnk10.zip b/old/lvlnk10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2dc7d0c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lvlnk10.zip |