CHAPTER II.
HEARD you that?
What prodigy of horror is disclosing?--LILLO: _Fatal Curiosity_.
THE unhappy companion of Cesarini's flight was soon discovered and
recaptured; but all search for Cesarini himself proved ineffectual, not
only in the neighbourhood of St. Cloud, but in the surrounding country
and in Paris. The only comfort was in thinking that his watch would at
least preserve him for some time from the horrors of want; and that by
the sale of the trinket, he might be traced. The police, too, were set
at work,--the vigilant police of Paris! Still day rolled on day, and no
tidings. The secret of the escape was carefully concealed from Teresa;
and public cares were a sufficient excuse for the gloom on De Montaigne's
brow.
Evelyn heard from Maltravers with mingled emotions of compassion, grief,
and awe the gloomy tale connected with the history of the maniac. She
wept for the fate of Florence; she shuddered at the curse that had fallen
on Cesarini; and perhaps Maltravers grew dearer to her from the thought
that there was so much in the memories of the past that needed a
comforter and a soother.
They returned to Paris, affianced and plighted lovers; and then it was
that Evelyn sought carefully and resolutely to banish from her mind all
recollection, all regret, of the absent Legard: she felt the solemnity of
the trust confided in her, and she resolved that no thought of hers
should ever be of a nature to gall the generous and tender spirit that
had confided its life of life to her care. The influence of Maltravers
over her increased in their new and more familiar position, and yet still
it partook too much of veneration, too little of passion; but that might
be her innocence and youth. He, at least, was sensible of no want,--she
had chosen him from the world; and fastidious as he deemed himself, he
reposed, without a doubt, on the security of her faith. None of those
presentiments which had haunted him when first betrothed to Florence
disturbed him now. The affection of one so young and so guileless seemed
to bring back to him all his own youth--we are ever young while the young
can love us! Suddenly, too, the world took to his eyes a brighter and
fairer aspect. Hope, born again, reconciled him to his career and to his
race! The more he listened to Evelyn, the more he watched every evidence
of her docile but generous nature, the more he felt assured that he had
found at last a heart suited to his own. Her beautiful serenity of
temper, cheerful, yet never fitful or unquiet, gladdened him with its
insensible contagion. To be with Evelyn was like basking in the sunshine
of some happy sky! It was an inexpressible charm to one wearied with
"the hack sights and sounds" of this jaded world,--to watch the
ever-fresh and sparkling the thoughts and fancies which came from a soul
so new to life! It enchanted one, painfully fastidious in what relates
to the true nobility of character, that, however various the themes
discussed, no low or mean thought ever sullied those beautiful lips. It
was not the mere innocence of inexperience, but the moral incapability of
guile, that charmed him in the companion he had chosen on his path to
Eternity! He was also delighted to notice Evelyn's readiness of
resources: she had that faculty, without which woman has no independence
from the world, no pledge that domestic retirement will not soon languish
into wearisome monotony,--the faculty of making trifles contribute to
occupation or amusement; she was easily pleased, and yet she so soon
reconciled herself to disappointment. He felt, and chid his own dulness
for not feeling it before, that, young and surpassingly lovely as she
was, she required no stimulant from the heated pursuits and the hollow
admiration of the crowd.
"Such," thought he, "are the natures that alone can preserve through
years the poetry of the first passionate illusion, that can alone render
wedlock the seal that confirms affection, and not the mocking ceremonial
that vainly consecrates its grave!"
Maltravers, as we have seen, formally wrote to Lumley some days after
their return to Paris. He would have written also to Lady Vargrave, but
Evelyn thought it best to prepare her mother by a letter from herself.
Miss Cameron now wanted but a few weeks to the age of eighteen, at which
she was to be the sole mistress of her own destiny. On arriving at that
age the marriage was to take place. Valerie heard with sincere delight
of the new engagement her friend had formed. She eagerly sought every
opportunity to increase her intimacy with Evelyn, who was completely won
by her graceful kindness; the result of Valerie's examination was, that
she did not wonder at the passionate love of Maltravers, but that her
deep knowledge of the human heart (that knowledge so remarkable in the
women of her country!) made her doubt how far it was adequately returned,
how far Evelyn deceived herself. Her first satisfaction became mingled
with anxiety, and she relied more for the future felicity of her friend
on Evelyn's purity of thought and general tenderness of heart than on the
exclusiveness and ardour of her love. Alas! few at eighteen are not too
young for the irrevocable step,--and Evelyn was younger than her years!
One evening at Madame de Ventadour's Maltravers asked Evelyn if she had
yet heard from Lady Vargrave. Evelyn expressed her surprise that she had
not, and the conversation fell, as was natural, upon Lady Vargrave
herself. "Is she as fond of music as you are?" asked Maltravers.
"Yes, indeed, I think so--and of the songs of a certain person in
particular; they always had for her an indescribable charm. Often have I
heard her say that to read your writings was like talking to an early
friend. Your name and genius seemed to make her solitary connection with
the great world. Nay--but you will not be angry--I half think it was her
enthusiasm, so strange and rare, that first taught me interest in
yourself."
"I have a double reason, then, for loving your mother," said Maltravers,
much pleased and flattered. "And does she not like Italian music?"
"Not much; she prefers some rather old-fashioned German airs, very
simple, but very touching."
"My own early passion," said Maltravers, more and more interested.
"But there are also one or two English songs which I have occasionally,
but very seldom, heard her sing. One in especial affects her so deeply,
even when she plays the air, that I have always attached to it a certain
mysterious sanctity. I should not like to sing it before a crowd, but
to-morrow, when you call on me, and we are alone--"
"Ah, to-morrow I will not fail to remind you."
Their conversation ceased; yet, somehow or other, that night when he
retired to rest the recollection of it haunted Maltravers. He felt a
vague, unaccountable curiosity respecting this secluded and solitary
mother; all concerning her early fate seemed so wrapped in mystery.
Cleveland, in reply to his letter, had informed him that all inquiries
respecting the birth and first marriage of Lady Vargrave had failed.
Evelyn evidently knew but little of either, and he felt a certain
delicacy in pressing questions which might be ascribed to the
inquisitiveness of a vulgar family pride. Moreover, lovers have so much
to say to each other, that he had not time to talk at length to Evelyn
about third persons. He slept ill that night,--dark and boding dreams
disturbed his slumber. He rose late and dejected by presentiments he
could not master: his morning meal was scarcely over, and he had already
taken his hat to go to Evelyn's for comfort and sunshine, when the door
opened, and he was surprised by the entrance of Lord Vargrave.
Lumley seated himself with a formal gravity very unusual to him, and as
if anxious to waive unnecessary explanations, began as follows, with a
serious and impressive voice and aspect:--
"Maltravers, of late years we have been estranged from each other. I do
not presume to dictate to you your friendships or your dislikes. Why
this estrangement has happened you alone can determine. For my part I am
conscious of no offence; that which I was I am still. It is you who have
changed. Whether it be the difference of our political opinions, or any
other and more secret cause, I know not. I lament, but it is now too
late to attempt to remove it. If you suspect me of ever seeking, or even
wishing, to sow dissension between yourself and my ill-fated cousin, now
no more, you are mistaken. I ever sought the happiness and union of you
both. And yet, Maltravers, you then came between me and an early and
cherished dream. But I suffered in silence; my course was at least
disinterested, perhaps generous: let it pass. A second time you cross my
path,--you win from me a heart I had long learned to consider mine. You
have no scruple of early friendship, you have no forbearance towards
acknowledged and affianced ties. You are my rival with Evelyn Cameron,
and your suit has prospered."
"Vargrave," said Maltravers, "you have spoken frankly; and I will reply
with an equal candour. A difference of tastes, tempers, and opinions led
us long since into opposite paths. I am one who cannot disunite public
morality from private virtue. From motives best known to you, but which
I say openly I hold to have been those of interest or ambition, you did
not change your opinions (there is no sin in that), but retaining them in
private, professed others in public, and played with the destinies of
mankind as if they were but counters to mark a mercenary game. This led
me to examine your character with more searching eyes; and I found it one
I could no longer trust. With respect to the Dead, let the pall drop
over that early grave,--I acquit you of all blame. He who sinned has
suffered more than would atone the crime! You charge me with my love to
Evelyn. Pardon me, but I seduced no affection, I have broken no tie.
Not till she was free in heart and in hand to choose between us, did I
hint at love. Let me think that a way may be found to soften one portion
at least of the disappointment you cannot but feel acutely."
"Stay!" said Lord Vargrave (who, plunged in a gloomy revery, had scarcely
seemed to hear the last few sentences of his rival): "stay, Maltravers.
Speak not of love to Evelyn! A horrible foreboding tells me that, a few
hours hence, you would rather pluck out your tongue by the roots than
couple the words of love with the thought of that unfortunate girl! Oh,
if I were vindictive, what awful triumph would await me now! What
retaliation on your harsh judgment, your cold contempt, your momentary
and wretched victory over me! Heaven is my witness, that my only
sentiment is that of terror and woe! Maltravers, in your earliest youth,
did you form connection with one whom they called Alice Darvil?"
"Alice! merciful Heaven! what of her?"
"Did you never know that the Christian name of Evelyn's mother is Alice?"
"I never asked, I never knew; but it is a common name," faltered
Maltravers.
"Listen to me," resumed Vargrave: "with Alice Darvil you lived in the
neighbourhood of -----, did you not?"
"Go on, go on!"
"You took the name of Butler; by that name Alice Darvil was afterwards
known in the town in which my uncle resided--there are gaps in the
history that I cannot of my own knowledge fill up,--she taught music; my
uncle became enamoured of her, but he was vain and worldly. She removed
into Devonshire, and he married her there, under the name of Cameron, by
which name he hoped to conceal from the world the lowness of her origin,
and the humble calling she had followed. Hold! do not interrupt me.
Alice had one daughter, as was supposed, by a former marriage; that
daughter was the offspring of him whose name she bore--yes, of the false
Butler!--that daughter is Evelyn Cameron!"
"Liar! devil!" cried Maltravers, springing to his feet, as if a shot had
pierced his heart. "Proofs! proofs!"
"Will these suffice?" said Vargrave, as he drew forth the letters of
Winsley and Lady Vargrave. Maltravers took them, but it was some moments
before he could dare to read. He supported himself with difficulty from
falling to the ground; there was a gurgle in his throat like the sound of
the death-rattle; at last he read, and dropped the letters from his hand.
"Wait me here," he said very faintly, and moved mechanically to the door.
"Hold!" said Lord Vargrave, laying his hand upon Ernest's arm. "Listen
to me for Evelyn's sake, for her mother's. You are about to seek
Evelyn,--be it so! I know that you possess the god-like gift of
self-control. You will not suffer her to learn that her mother has done
that which dishonours alike mother and child? You will not consummate
your wrong to Alice Darvil by robbing her of the fruit of a life of
penitence and remorse? You will not unveil her shame to her own
daughter? Convince yourself, and master yourself while you do so!"
"Fear me not," said Maltravers, with a terrible smile; "I will not
afflict my conscience with a double curse. As I have sowed, so must I
reap. Wait me here!"
