CHAPTER II.
AH, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Ev'n now forsake me.--_HENRY VI_. Part iii.
LORD VARGRAVE, bold as he was by nature, in vain endeavoured to banish
from his mind the gloomy impression which the startling interview with
Cesarini had bequeathed. The face, the voice of the maniac, haunted him,
as the shape of the warning wraith haunts the mountaineer. He returned
at once to his hotel, unable for some hours to collect himself
sufficiently to pay his customary visit to Miss Cameron. Inly resolving
not to hazard a second meeting with the Italian during the rest of his
sojourn at Paris by venturing in the streets on foot, he ordered his
carriage towards evening; dined at the Cafe de Paris; and then re-entered
his carriage to proceed to Lady Doltimore's house.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," said his servant, as he closed the
carriage-door, "but I forgot to say that, a short time after you returned
this morning, a strange gentleman asked at the porter's lodge if Mr.
Ferrers was not staying at the hotel. The porter said there was no Mr.
Ferrers, but the gentleman insisted upon it that he had seen Mr. Ferrers
enter. I was in the lodge at the moment, my lord, and I explained--"
"That Mr. Ferrers and Lord Vargrave are one and the same? What sort of
looking person?"
"Thin and dark, my lord,--evidently a foreigner. When I said that you
were now Lord Vargrave, he stared a moment, and said very abruptly that
he recollected it perfectly, and then he laughed and walked away."
"Did he not ask to see me?"
"No, my lord; he said he should take another opportunity. He was a
strange-looking gentleman, and his clothes were threadbare."
"Ah, some troublesome petitioner. Perhaps a Pole in distress! Remember
I am never at home when he calls. Shut the door. To Lady Doltimore's."
Lumley's heart beat as he threw himself back,--he again felt the grip of
the madman at his throat. He saw, at once, that Cesarini had dogged him;
he resolved the next morning to change his hotel, and to apply to the
police. It was strange how sudden and keen a fear had entered the breast
of this callous and resolute man!
On arriving at Lady Doltimore's, he found Caroline alone in the
drawing-room. It was a _tete-a-tete_ that he by no means desired.
"Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, coldly, "I wished a short conversation
with you; and finding you did not come in the morning, I sent you a note
an hour ago. Did you receive it?"
"No; I have been from home since six o'clock,--it is now nine."
"Well, then, Vargrave," said Caroline, with a compressed and writhing
lip, and turning very pale, "I tremble to tell you that I fear Doltimore
suspects. He looked at me sternly this morning, and said, 'You seem
unhappy, madam; this marriage of Lord Vargrave's distresses you!'"
"I warned you how it would be,--your own selfishness will betray and ruin
you."
"Do not reproach me, man!" said Lady Doltimore, with great vehemence.
"From you at least I have a right to pity, to forbearance, to succour. I
will not bear reproach from _you_."
"I reproach you for your own sake, for the faults you commit against
yourself; and I must say, Caroline, that after I had generously conquered
all selfish feeling, and assisted you to so desirable and even brilliant
a position, it is neither just nor high-minded in you to evince so
ungracious a reluctance to my taking the only step which can save me from
actual ruin. But what does Doltimore suspect? What ground has he for
suspicion, beyond that want of command of countenance which it is easy to
explain,--and which it is yet easier for a woman and a great lady [here
Lumley sneered] to acquire?"
"I know not; it has been put into his head. Paris is so full of slander.
But, Vargrave--Lumley--I tremble, I shudder with terror, if ever
Doltimore should discover--"
"Pooh! pooh! Our conduct at Paris has been most guarded, most discreet.
Doltimore is Self-conceit personified,--and Self-conceit is horn-eyed. I
am about to leave Paris,--about to marry, from under your own roof; a
little prudence, a little self-control, a smiling face, when you wish us
happiness, and so forth, and all is safe. Tush! think of it no more!
Fate has cut and shuffled the cards for you; the game is yours, unless
you revoke. Pardon my metaphor; it is a favourite one,--I have worn it
threadbare; but human life _is_ so like a rubber at whist. Where is
Evelyn?"
"In her own room. Have you no pity for her?"
"She will be very happy when she is Lady Vargrave; and for the rest, I
shall neither be a stern nor a jealous husband. She might not have given
the same character to the magnificent Maltravers."
Here Evelyn entered; and Vargrave hastened to press her hand, to whisper
tender salutations and compliments, to draw the easy-chair to the fire,
to place the footstool,--to lavish the _petits soins_ that are so
agreeable, when they are the small moralities of love.
Evelyn was more than usually pale,--more than usually abstracted. There
was no lustre in her eye, no life in her step; she seemed unconscious of
the crisis to which she approached. As the myrrh and hyssop which
drugged the malefactors of old into forgetfulness of their doom, so there
are griefs which stupefy before their last and crowning consummation!
Vargrave conversed lightly on the weather, the news, the last book.
Evelyn answered but in monosyllables; and Caroline, with a hand-screen
before her face, preserved an unbroken silence. Thus gloomy and joyless
were two of the party, thus gay and animated the third, when the clock on
the mantelpiece struck ten; and as the last stroke died, and Evelyn
sighed heavily,--for it was an hour nearer to the fatal day,--the door
was suddenly thrown open, and pushing aside the servant, two gentlemen
entered the room.
Caroline, the first to perceive them, started from her seat with a faint
exclamation of surprise. Vargrave turned abruptly, and saw before him
the stern countenance of Maltravers.
"My child! my Evelyn!" exclaimed a familiar voice; and Evelyn had already
flown into the arms of Aubrey.
The sight of the curate in company with Maltravers explained all at once
to Vargrave. He saw that the mask was torn from his face, the prize
snatched from his grasp, his falsehood known, his plot counterworked, his
villany baffled! He struggled in vain for self-composure; all his
resources of courage and craft seemed drained and exhausted. Livid,
speechless, almost trembling, he cowered beneath the eyes of Maltravers.
Evelyn, not as yet aware of the presence of her former lover, was the
first to break the silence. She lifted her face in alarm from the bosom
of the good curate. "My mother--she is well--she lives--what brings you
hither?"
"Your mother is well, my child. I have come hither at her earnest
request to save you from a marriage with that unworthy man!"
Lord Vargrave smiled a ghastly smile, but made no answer.
"Lord Vargrave," said Maltravers, "you will feel at once that you have no
further business under this roof. Let us withdraw,--I have much to thank
you for."
"I will not stir!" exclaimed Vargrave, passionately, and stamping on the
floor. "Miss Cameron, the guest of Lady Doltimore, whose house and
presence you thus rudely profane, is my affianced bride,--affianced with
her own consent. Evelyn, beloved Evelyn! mine you are yet; you alone can
cancel the bond. Sir, I know not what you have to say, what mystery in
your immaculate life to disclose; but unless Lady Doltimore, whom your
violence appalls and terrifies, orders me to quit her roof, it is not
I,--it is yourself, who are the intruder! Lady Doltimore, with your
permission, I will direct your servants to conduct this gentleman to his
carriage!"
"Lady Doltimore, pardon me," said Maltravers, coldly; "I will not be
urged to any failure of respect to you. My lord, if the most abject
cowardice be not added to your other vices, you will not make this room
the theatre for our altercation. I invite you, in those terms which no
gentleman ever yet refused, to withdraw with me."
The tone and manner of Maltravers exercised a strange control over
Vargrave; he endeavoured in vain to keep alive the passion into which he
had sought to work himself; his voice faltered, his head sank upon his
breast. Between these two personages, none interfered; around them, all
present grouped in breathless silence,--Caroline, turning her eyes from
one to the other in wonder and dismay; Evelyn, believing all a dream, yet
alive only to the thought that, by some merciful interposition of
Providence, she should escape the consequences of her own rashness,
clinging to Aubrey, with her gaze riveted on Maltravers; and Aubrey,
whose gentle character was borne down and silenced by the powerful and
tempestuous passions that now met in collision and conflict, withheld by
his abhorrence of Vargrave's treachery from his natural desire to
propitiate, and yet appalled by the apprehension of bloodshed, that for
the first time crossed him.
There was a moment of dead silence, in which Vargrave seemed to be
nerving and collecting himself for such course as might be best to
pursue, when again the door opened, and the name of Mr. Howard was
announced.
Hurried and agitated, the young secretary, scarcely noticing the rest of
the party, rushed to Lord Vargrave.
"My lord! a thousand pardons for interrupting you,--business of such
importance! I am so fortunate to find you!"
"What is the matter, sir?"
"These letters, my lord; I have so much to say!"
Any interruption, even an earthquake, at that moment must have been
welcome to Vargrave. He bent his head, with a polite smile, linked his
arm into his secretary's, and withdrew to the recess of the farthest
window. Not a minute elapsed before he turned away with a look of
scornful exultation. "Mr. Howard," said he, "go and refresh yourself,
and come to me at twelve o'clock to-night; I shall be at home then." The
secretary bowed, and withdrew.
"Now, sir," said Vargrave, to Maltravers, "I am willing to leave you in
possession of the field. Miss Cameron, it will be, I fear, impossible
for me to entertain any longer the bright hopes I had once formed; my
cruel fate compels me to seek wealth in any matrimonial engagement. I
regret to inform you that you are no longer the great heiress; the whole
of your capital was placed in the hands of Mr. Douce for the completion
of the purchase of Lisle Court. Mr. Douce is a bankrupt; he has fled to
America. This letter is an express from my lawyer; the house has closed
its payments! Perhaps we may hope to obtain sixpence in the pound. I am
a loser also; the forfeit money bequeathed to me is gone. I know not
whether, as your trustee, I am not accountable for the loss of your
fortune (drawn out on my responsibility); probably so. But as I have not
now a shilling in the world, I doubt whether Mr. Maltravers will advise
you to institute proceedings against me. Mr. Maltravers, to-morrow, at
nine o'clock, I will listen to what you have to say. I wish you all
good-night." He bowed, seized his hat, and vanished.
"Evelyn," said Aubrey, "can you require to learn more; do you not already
feel you are released from union with a man without heart and honour?"
"Yes, yes! I am so happy!" cried Evelyn, bursting into tears. "This
hated wealth,--I feel not its loss; I am released from all duty to my
benefactor. I am free!"
The last tie that had yet united the guilty Caroline to Vargrave was
broken,--a woman forgives sin in her lover, but never meanness. The
degrading, the abject position in which she had seen one whom she had
served as a slave (though, as yet, all his worst villanies were unknown
to her), filled her with shame, horror, and disgust. She rose abruptly,
and quitted the room. They did not miss her.
Maltravers approached Evelyn; he took her hand, and pressed it to his
lips and heart.
"Evelyn," said he, mournfully, "you require an explanation,--to-morrow I
will give and seek it. To-night we are both too unnerved for such
communications. I can only now feel joy at your escape, and hope that I
may still minister to your future happiness."
"But," said Aubrey, "can we believe this new and astounding statement?
Can this loss be so irremediable; may we not yet take precaution, and
save, at least, some wrecks of this noble fortune?"
"I thank you for recalling me to the world," said Maltravers, eagerly.
"I will see to it this instant; and tomorrow, Evelyn, after my interview
with you, I will hasten to London, and act in that capacity still left to
me,--your guardian, your friend."
He turned away his face, and hurried to the door.
Evelyn clung more closely to Aubrey. "But you will not leave me
to-night? You can stay? We can find you accommodation; do not leave
me."
"Leave you, my child! no; we have a thousand things to say to each other.
I will not," he added in a whisper, turning to Maltravers, "forestall
your communications."
