Frank Fairlegh Part 60

"Well, well, don't put yourself into a pa.s.sion; the only chance as I knows of is to ketch Miss Clara out walking; and then ten to one Mr.

Fleming will be with her."

"Let him!" exclaimed I; "why should I avoid him? I have not injured him, though he may have done me foul and bitter wrong; it is for him to shrink from the encounter."

-395-- "I know what the end of this will be," returned Peter Barnett; "you'll quarrel; and then, instead of off coats and having it out like Britons, there'll be a purlite hinvitation given, as kind and civil as if you was a-hasking him to dinner, to meet as soon as it's light to-morrow morning, and do you the favour of putting a brace of bullets into you."

"No, Peter, you do not understand my feeling on this subject; should you be right in your suspicions (and, although my faith in your young mistress is such that nothing but the evidence of my own senses can avail to shake it, I am fain to own circ.u.mstances appear fully to warrant them)--should these suspicions not prove unfounded, it is _her_ falsehood alone that will darken the suns.h.i.+ne of my future life.

Fleming, or any other c.o.xcomb who had taken advantage of her fickleness, would be equally beneath my notice. But enough of this; where shall I be most likely to meet her?"

"You knows the seat in the shrubbery walk under the old beeches, where you saw Miss Clara the first time as ever you c.u.m here?"

"Only too well," answered I, as the recollection of that morning contrasted painfully with my present feelings.

"Well, you be near there about eleven o'clock; and if Miss Clara don't walk that way, I'll send down a boy with hinformation as to the henemy's movements. Keep out of sight as much as you can."

"It shall be done," replied I.

Old Peter paused for a moment; then, raising his hand to his forehead with a military salute, turned away and left me.

Eight o'clock struck; a girl brought me in breakfast; nine and ten sounded from an old clock in the bar, but the viands remained untasted.

At a quarter past ten I rang the bell, and asked for a gla.s.s of water, drained it, and, pressing my hat over my brow, sallied forth. The morning had been misty when I first started, but during my sojourn at the inn the vapours had cleared away, and as, by the a.s.sistance of an old tree, I climbed over the paling of Barstone Park, the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly, wrapping dale and down in a mantle of golden light.

Rabbits sprung up under my feet as I made my way through the fern and heather; and pheasants, their varied plumage glittering in the sunlight, ran along my path, seeking to hide their long necks under some sheltering furze brake, or rose heavily on the wing, scared at the unwonted intrusion. At any other time the fair scene -396-- around me would have sufficed to make me light-hearted and happy, but in the state of suspense and mental torture in which I then was, the brightness of nature seemed only to contrast the more vividly with the darkness of soul within. And yet I could not believe her false. Oh, no! I should see her, and all would be explained; and as this thought came across me, I bounded eagerly forward, and, anxious to accelerate the meeting, chafed at each trifling obstacle that opposed itself to my progress. Alas! one short hour from that time, I should have been glad had there been a lion in my path, so that I had failed to reach the fatal spot.

With my mind fixed on the one object of meeting Clara, I forgot the old man's recommendation to keep out of sight; and flinging myself at full length on the bench, I rested my head upon my hand, and fell into a reverie, distorting facts and devising impossible contingencies to establish Clara's innocence. From this train of thought I was aroused by a m.u.f.fled sound as of footsteps upon turf, and in another moment, the following words, breathed in silvery accents, which caused my every pulse to throb with suppressed emotion, reached my ear:--

"It is indeed an engagement of which I now heartily repent, and from which I would willingly free myself; but--"

"But," replied a man's voice, in the cold sneering tone of which, though now softened by an expression of courtesy, I had almost said of tenderness, I instantly recognised that of Stephen Wilford,--"but, having at one time encouraged the poor young man, your woman's heart will not allow you to say 'No' with sufficient firmness to show that he has nothing further to hope."

"Indeed it is not so," replied the former speaker, who, as the reader has doubtless concluded, was none other than Clara Saville; "you mistake me, Mr. Fleming; if a word could prove to him that his suit was hopeless, that word should soon be spoken."

"It is not needed!" exclaimed I, springing to my feet, and suddenly confronting them; "that of which the tongue of living man would have failed to convince me, my ears have heard, and my eyes have seen! It is enough. Clara, from this moment you will be to me as if the grave had closed over you; yet not so, for then I could have loved your memory, and deemed that an angel had left this false and cruel world to seek one better fitted to her bright and sinless nature!--Farewell, Clara! may you be as happy as the recollection (which will haunt you at -397-- times, strive as you may to banish it), that by your falsehood you have embittered the life of one who loved you with a deep and true affection, will permit!" and overcome by the agony of my feelings, I leaned against the bench for support, my knees trembling so that I could scarcely stand.

When I appeared before her so unexpectedly, Clara started back and uttered a slight scream; after which, apparently overwhelmed by my vehemence, she had remained perfectly silent; whilst her companion, who had at first favoured me with one of his withering glances, perceiving that I was so completely engrossed as to be scarcely conscious of his presence, resumed his usual manner of contemptuous indifference. He was, however, the first to speak.

"This gentleman, whom I believe I have the pleasure of recognising,"

and here he slightly raised his hat, "appears, I can scarcely suppose, a friend, but, at all events, an intimate of yours, Miss Saville; if you wish me--that is, if I am at all _de trop_----" and he stepped back a pace or two, as if only awaiting a hint from her to withdraw, while with his snake-like glance riveted upon her features, he watched the effect of his words.

"No, pray do not leave me, Mr. Fleming," exclaimed Clara hurriedly; "Mr.

Fairlegh must see the impossibility of remaining here. I am momentarily expecting Mr. c.u.mberland and my guardian to join us."

"I leave you," replied I, making an effort to recover myself; "I seek not to pain you by my presence, I would not add to your feelings of self-reproach by look or word of mine;" then, catching Wilford's glance fixed upon me with an expression of gratified malice, I continued, "For you, sir, I seek not to learn by what vile arts you have succeeded thus far in your iniquitous designs; it is enough for me that it should have been possible for you to succeed; my happiness you have destroyed; but I have yet duties to perform, and my life is in the hands of Him who gave it, nor will I risk it by a fruitless quarrel with a practised homicide."

The look of concentrated hatred with which he regarded me during this speech, changed again to scornful indifference, as he replied, with a contemptuous laugh, "Really, sir, you are labouring under some singular delusion; I have no intention of quarrelling; you appear to raise phantoms for the pleasure of combating them. However, as far as I can comprehend the affair, you are imputing to me an honour belonging rather to my friend -398-- c.u.mberland; and here, in good time, he comes to answer for himself. c.u.mberland, here's a gentleman mistaking me for you, I fancy, who seems labouring under some strange delusions about love and murder; you had better speak to him." As he concluded, c.u.mberland, attended by a gamekeeper leading a shooting pony, came up, looking flushed and angry.

"I should have been here sooner," he said, addressing Wilford, "but Browne told me he had traced poachers in the park; the footsteps can be otherwise accounted for now, I perceive." He then made a sign for the keeper to approach, and, turning towards me, added, "You are trespa.s.sing, sir".

His tone and manner were so insolent and overbearing, that my blood boiled in my veins. Unwilling, however, to bring on a quarrel in such a presence, I restrained my indignation, and replied, "I know not what devil sent you here at this moment, Richard c.u.mberland; I have been sorely tried, and I warn you not to provoke me further".

"I tell you, you are trespa.s.sing, fellow; this is the second time I have caught you lurking about; take yourself off instantly, or--" as he spoke he stepped towards me, raising his cane with a threatening gesture.

"Or what?" inquired I, at length thoroughly roused; and, drawing myself up to my full height, I folded my arms across my chest, and stood before him in an att.i.tude of defiance.

As I did so, he turned deadly pale, and for a moment his resolution seemed to fail him; but catching the sound of Wilford's sneering laugh, and relying on the a.s.sistance of the gamekeeper, who, having tied the pony to a tree, was fast approaching the scene of action, he replied, "Or receive the chastis.e.m.e.nt due to such skulking vagabonds!" and springing upon me, he seized my collar with one hand, while with the other he drew the cane sharply across my shoulders.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page398 A Striking Position]

To free myself from his grasp by a powerful effort was the work of a moment, while almost at the same time I struck him with my full force, and, catching him on the upper part of the nose, dashed him to the ground, where he lay motionless, and apparently stunned, with the blood gus.h.i.+ng from his mouth and nostrils.-399--

CHAPTER XLIX -- MR. FRAMPTON MAKES A DISCOVERY

"In a tandem I see nothing to induce the leader to keep his course straightforward, but an address on the part of the charioteer as nearly as can be supernatural.... And, for my own part, I think leaders of tandems are particularly apt to turn short round. And the impudence with which they do it, in some instances, is past all description, staring all the while full in the faces of those in the carriage, as much as to say, 'I must have a peep at the fools behind that are pretending to manage me'."

--_Thinks I to Myself_.

"But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so Keen the desire to see his home again, He thought himself in duty bound to do so.

Lonely he felt at times as Robin Crusoe."

--_Beppo_.

ALL that pa.s.sed immediately after the events I have described left but a succession of vague and confused images on my memory. I have some dim recollection of seeing them raise c.u.mberland from the ground, and of his showing symptoms of returning animation; but I remember nothing distinctly till I again found myself a tenant of the little sanded parlour in the village inn. My first act was to ring for a basin of cold water and a towel, with which I well bathed my face and head; in some degree refreshed by this process, I sat down and endeavoured to collect my scattered senses.

I had succeeded in my immediate object, and suspense was at an end. I had obtained certain proof of Clara's falsehood; with her own lips I had heard her declare that she repented her engagement, and wished to be freed from it; and the person to whom she had confided this was a man whose attentions to her were so marked that even the very servants considered him an acknowledged suitor. What encouragement could be more direct than this? Well, then, she was faithless, and the dream of my life had departed. But this was not all; my faith in human nature was shaken--nay, destroyed at a blow. If _she_ could prove false, whom could I ever trust again? Alas! the grief--the bitter, crus.h.i.+ng grief--when the consciousness is forced upon us that one with whom we have held sweet interchange of thought and feeling--with whom we have been linked by all the sacred ties of mutual confidence--with whose sorrows we have sympathised, and -400-- whose smiles we have hailed as the freed captive hails the suns.h.i.+ne and the dews of heaven--that one whom for these things we have loved with all the deepest instincts of an earnest and impa.s.sioned nature, and for whose truth we would have answered as for our own, is false and unworthy such true affection--oh! this is bitter grief indeed! Deep sorrow, absorbing all the faculties of the soul, leaves no room for any other emotion; and in the one idea, that Clara Saville--Miss Clara Saville, whom my imagination had depicted the simple, the loving, the true-hearted--was lost to me for ever, I forgot for somc time the existence of Wilford or the fact that in my anger I had stricken down and possibly seriously injured c.u.mberland. But as the first agony of my grief began to wear off, I became anxious to learn the extent of the punishment I had inflicted on him, and accordingly despatched a boy to Peter Barnett, requesting him to send me word how matters stood.

During his absence it occurred to me that, as Wilford had been introduced to her under a feigned name, Clara must be utterly ignorant of the evil reputation attaching to him, and that--although this did, not in any way affect her heartless conduct towards me--it was only right that she should be made aware of the true character of the man with whom she had to deal; therefore, painful as it was to hold any communication with her after what had pa.s.sed, 1 felt that the time might come when my neglect of this duty might afford me cause for the most bitter self-reproach. Accordingly, asking for pen, ink, and paper, I sat down and wrote the following note:--

"After the occurrences of this morning, I had thought never, either by word or letter, to hold further communication with you; by your own act you have separated us for ever; and I--yes, I can say it with truth--am glad that it should be so--it prevents all conflict between reason and feeling. But I have what I deem a duty to perform towards you--a duty rendered all the more difficult, because my motives are liable to cruel misconstruction; but it is a duty, and therefore must be done. You are, probably, as little aware of the true character of the man calling himself Fleming as of his real name; of him may be said, as of the Italian of old, that 'his hate is fatal to man, and his love to woman'; he is alike notorious as a duellist and a libertine. My knowledge of him arises from his having in a duel wounded, almost unto death, the dearest friend I have on earth, who had saved an innocent girl from adding to his list of victims. If you -401-- require proof of this beyond my word, ask Mr. Stephen Wilford--for such is really his name--in your guardian's presence, whether he remembers Lizzie Maurice and the smart of Harry Oaklands' horsewhip. And now, having warned you, your fate is under your own control. For what is past I do not reproach you; you have been an instrument in the hands of Providence to wean my affections from this world, and if it is His good pleasure that, instead of a field for high enterprise and honest exertion, I should henceforth learn to regard it as a scene of broken faith and crushed hopes, it is not for me to rebel against His will. And so farewell for ever!--F. F."

I had not long finished writing the above when the boy returned, bringing the following missive from old Peter:--

"Honoured Sir,

"The topper as you've give Muster Richard ain't done him no more harm, only lettin' hout a little of his mad blood, and teachin' 'im when he speaks to a gemman to haddress 'im as sich; 'is face is swelled as big as too, and he'll 'ave a sweet pair of black hyes to-morrer, please goodness, which is a comfort to reflect on. Touchin' uther matturs, I've got scent of summut as may make things seeme not so black as we thort, but it's honly in the hegg at present, and may never come to a chickin, so don't go settin' too much on it; but if you've nothin' better to do, ride over agen the day arter to-morrer, by which time I may have more to communicate, "Your humbel servent to command,

"Peter Barnett."

I pondered for some minutes on what this enigmatical doc.u.ment might portend; but a little reflection served to convince me that neither Peter nor any one else could discover aught affecting the only feature of the whole affair which deeply interested me; on that point I had obtained the information of my own senses, and there was nothing more to hope or fear. I had learned the worst; the blow had fallen, and it only remained for me to bear it with what fort.i.tude I might. Accordingly I enclosed my note to Clara in one to Peter Barnett, telling him I could see no reason for coming there again, and that in all probability I should not take the trouble of doing so, adding that if he had anything new to communicate he had better do so in writing; and then, ordering my horse, I rode slowly home, feeling more -402-- thoroughly miserable than I had ever done before in the whole course of my life.

The next morning was so fine that all kinds of pleasurable schemes were proposed and acceded to. Oaklands and f.a.n.n.y rode out together in all the unrestrained freedom of an engaged tete-a-tete. The new dog-cart had arrived, and the chestnuts were to make their _debut_; consequently, Lawless spent the morning in the stable-yard, united by the closest bonds of sympathy with the head-groom and an attendant harness-maker, the latter being a young man whose distinguis.h.i.+ng characteristics were a strong personal savour of new leather, hands gloved in cobbler's wax and harness-dye, and a general tendency to come off black upon everything he approached. Sir John and the rest of the party were to fill a britchska, and the place of rendezvous was the ruins of an old abbey about eight miles distant.

Feeling quite unfit for society, I had excused myself on the plea (not altogether a false one) of a bad headache, and having witnessed their departure from the library window, I drew an easy-chair to the fire, and prepared to enjoy the luxury (in my then state of feeling an unspeakable one) of solitude. But I was not fated to avail myself of even this small consolation, for scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when the library door was opened, and Mr. Frampton made his appearance.

"Umph! eh! umph!" he began; "I've been seeing that young fool Lawless start in his new tandem, as he calls it. A pretty start it was too; why, the thing's as high as a stage-coach--ought to have a ladder to get up--almost as bad as mounting an elephant! And then the horses, fiery devils! two men at each of their noses, and enough to do to hold 'em even so! Well, out comes Master Lawless, in a greatcoat made like a coal-sack, with b.u.t.tons as big as five-s.h.i.+lling pieces, a whip as long as a fis.h.i.+ng-rod in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth. 'There's a picture!' says he. 'A picture of folly,' says I; 'you're never going to be mad enough to trust yourself up there Behind those vicious brutes?'

'Come, governor, jump in, and let's be off,' was all the answer I got.

'Thank ye,' says I; 'when you see me jumping in that direction, pop me into a strait-waistcoat, and toddle me off to Bedlam.' 'Eh! won't you go? Tumble in then, Shrimp!' 'Please, sir, it's so high I can't reach it.' 'We'll soon see about that!' cries Lawless, flanking him with the long whip. Well, the little wretch scrambled up somehow, like a monkey; and as soon as he was -403-- safely landed, what does he do but lean back, fold his arms, and winking at one of the helpers, squeak out, 'Oh, crickey! ain't this spicy, just!' 'You're never going to take that poor child?' says I; 'only think of his anxious mother! 'Well, sir, if you'll believe it, they every one of 'em burst out laughing--helpers, brat and all--as if I'd said something very ridiculous. 'Never mind, governor,'