The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly Part 82

I call the mischief irreparable, since, looking to the line of argument adopted by our leading counsel on the last trial, the case chiefly turned on the discredit that attached to this act of marriage. I cannot therefore exaggerate the mischief this discovery has brought us. You must come over at once. The delay incurred by letter-writing, and the impossibility of profiting by any new turn events may take, renders your presence here essential, and without it I declare I cannot accept any further responsibility in this case.

"'A very flippant note from Mr. Cutbill has just reached me. He narrates the fact of the discovered books, and says, "It is not too late for B.

to make terms. Send for him at once, and say that Count P. has no desire to push him to the wall." It is very hard to stomach this man's impertinence, but I hesitate now as to what course to take regarding him. Let me hear by telegraph that you are coming over: for I repeat that I will not engage myself to a.s.sume the full responsibility of the case, or take any decisive step without your sanction.'

"What could Cutbill mean by such conduct?" cried Nelly. "Do you understand it at all, Gusty?" Bramleigh merely shook his head in token of negative.

"It all came of the man's meddlesome disposition," said Julia." The mischievous people of the world are not the malevolent--_they_ only do harm with an object: but the meddling creatures are at it day and night, scattering seeds of trouble out of very idleness."

"Ju 's right," said George; but in such a tone of habitual approval that set all the rest laughing.

"I need not discuss the question of permitting the search," said Bramleigh; "these gentlemen have saved me _that_. The only point now open is, shall I go over to England or not?"

"Go by all means," said Julia, eagerly. "Mr. Sedley's advice cannot be gainsaid."

"But it seems to me our case is lost," said he, as his eyes turned to Nelly, whose face expressed deep sorrow.

"I fear so," said she, in a faint whisper.

"Then why ask me to leave this, and throw myself into a hopeless contest? Why am I, to quit this spot, where I have found peace and contentment, to encounter the struggle that, even with all my conviction of failure, will still move me to hope and expectancy?"

"Just because a brave soldier fights even after defeat seems certain,"

said Julia. "More than one battle has been won from those who had already despatched news of their victory."

"You may laugh at me, if you like," said L'Estrange, "but Julia is right there." And they did laugh, and the laughter was so far good that it relieved the terrible tension of their nerves, and rallied them back to ease and quietude.

"I see," said Bramleigh, "that you all think I ought to go over to England; and though none of you can know what it will cost me in feeling, I will go."

"There's a messenger from the Podesta of Cattaro waiting all this time, Gusty, to know about this English sailor they have arrested. The authorities desire to learn if you will take him off their hands."

"George is my vice-consul. He shall deal with him," said Bramleigh, laughing, "for as the steamer touches at two o'clock, I shall be run sharp to catch her. If any one will help me to pack, I 'll be more than grateful."

"We'll do it in a committee of the whole house," said Julia, "for when a man's trunk is once corded he never goes back of his journey."

CHAPTER LV. THE PRISONER AT CATTARO

So much occupied and interested were the little household of the villa in Bramleigh's departure--there were so many things to be done, so many things to be remembered--that L'Estrange never once thought of the messenger from the Podesta, who still waited patiently for his answer.

"I declare," said Julia, "that poor man is still standing in the hall.

For pity's sake, George, give him some answer, and send him away."

"But what is the answer to be, Ju? I have not the faintest notion of how these cases are dealt with."

"Let us look over what that great book of instructions says. I used to read a little of it every day when we came first, and I worried Mr.

Bramleigh so completely with my superior knowledge that he carried it off and hid it."

"Oh, I remember now. He told me he had left it at the consulate, for that you were positively driving him distracted with official details."

"How ungrateful men are! They never know what good 'nagging' does them.

It is the stimulant that converts half the sluggish people in the world into reasonably active individuals."

"Perhaps we are occasionally over-stimulated," said George, dryly.

"If so, it is by your own vanity. Men are spoiled by their fellow-men, and not by women. There, now, you look very much puzzled at that paradox--as you 'd like to call it--but go away and think over it, and say this evening if I'm not right."

"Very likely you are," said he, in his indolent way; "but whether or not, you always beat me in a discussion."

"And this letter from the Podesta; who is to reply, or what is the reply to be?"

"Well," said he, after a pause, "I think of the two I 'd rather speak bad Italian than write it. I 'll go down and see the Podesta."

"There 's zeal and activity," said Julia, laughing. "Never disparage the system of nagging after that. Poor George," said she as she looked after him while he set out for Cattaro, "he 'd have a stouter heart to ride a six-foot wall than for the interview that is now before him."

"And yet," said Nelly, "it was only a moment ago you were talking to him about his vanity."

"And I might as well have talked about his wealth. But you 'd spoil him, Nelly, if I was n't here to prevent it. These indolent men get into the way of believing that languor and laziness are good temper; and as George is really a fine-hearted fellow, I 'm angry when he falls back upon his lethargy for his character, instead of trusting, as he could and as he ought, to his good qualities."

Nelly blushed, but it was with pleasure. This praise of one she liked--liked even better than she herself knew--was intense enjoyment to her.

Let us now turn to L'Estrange, who strolled along towards Cattaro--now stopping to gather the wild anemones which, in every splendid variety of color, decked the sward--now loitering to gaze at the blue sea, which lay still and motionless at his feet. There was that voluptuous sense of languor in the silence--the loaded perfume of the air--the drowsy hum of insect life--the faint plash with which the sea, unstirred by wind, washed the sh.o.r.e--that harmonized to perfection with his own nature; and could he but have had Nelly at his side to taste the happiness with him, he would have deemed it exquisite, for, poor fellow, he was in love after his fas.h.i.+on. It was not an ardent impulsive pa.s.sion, but it consumed him slowly and certainly, all the same. He knew well that his present life of indolence and inactivity could not, ought not, to continue--that without some prompt effort on his part, his means of subsistence would be soon exhausted; but as the sleeper begs that he may be left to slumber on, and catch up, if he may, the dream that has just been broken, he seemed to entreat of fate a little longer of the delicious trance in which he now was living. His failures in life had deepened in him that sense of humility which in coa.r.s.e natures turns to misanthropy, but in men of finer mould makes them gentle, and submissive, and impressionable. His own humble opinion of himself deprived him of all hope of winning Nelly's affection, but he saw--or he thought he saw--in her that love of simple pleasures and of a life removed from all ambitions, that led him to believe she would not regard his pretensions with disdain. And then he felt that, thrown together into that closer intimacy their poverty had brought about, he had maintained towards her a studious deference and respect which had amounted almost to coldness, for he dreaded that she should think he would have adventured, in their fallen fortunes, on what he would never have dared in their high and palmy days.

"Well," said he, aloud, as he looked at the small fragment of an almost finished cigar, "I suppose it is nigh over now! I shall have to go and seek my fortune in Queensland, or New Zealand, or some far-away country, and all I shall carry with me will be the memory of this dream--for it is a dream--of our life here. I wonder shall I ever, as I have seen other men, throw myself into my work, and efface the thought of myself, and of my own poor weak nature, in the higher interests that will press on me for action."

What should he do if men came to him for guidance, or counsel, or consolation. Could he play the hypocrite, and pretend to give what he had not got? or tell them to trust to what he bitterly knew was not the sustaining principle of his own life? "This shall be so no longer,"

cried he; "if I cannot go heart and soul into my work, I 'll turn farmer or fisherman. I 'll be what I can be without shame and self-reproach.

One week more of this happiness--one week--and I vow to tear myself from it forever."

As he thus muttered, he found himself in the narrow street that led into the centre of the little town, which, blocked up by fruit-stalls and fish-baskets, required all his address to navigate. The whole population, too, were screaming out their wares in the shrill cries of the South, and invitations to buy were blended with droll sarcasms on rival productions and jeering comments on the neighbors. Though full of deference for the unmistakable signs of gentleman in his appearance, they did not the less direct their appeals to him as he pa.s.sed, and the flatteries on his handsome face and graceful figure mingled with the praises of whatever they had to sell.

Half amused, but not a little flurried by all the noise and tumult around him, L'Estrange made his way through the crowd till he reached the dingy entrance which led to the still dingier stair of the Podesta's residence.

L'Estrange had scarcely prepared the speech in which he should announce himself as charged with consular functions, when he found himself in presence of a very dirty little man, with spectacles and a skull-cap, whose profuse civilities and ceremonious courtesies actually overwhelmed him. He a.s.sured L'Estrange that there were no words in Italian--nor even in German, for he spoke in both--which could express a fractional part of the affliction he experienced in enforcing measures that savored of severity on a subject of that great nation which had so long been the faithful friend and ally of the imperial house. On this happy political union it was clear he had prepared himself historically, for he gave a rapid sketch of the first empire, and briefly threw off a spirited description of the disastrous consequences of the connection with France, and the pa.s.sing estrangement from Great Britain. By this time, what between the difficulties of a foreign tongue, and a period with which the poor parson was not, historically, over conversant, he was completely mystified and bewildered. At last the great functionary condescended to become practical. He proceeded to narrate that an English sailor, who had been landed at Ragusa by some Greek coasting-vessel, had come over on foot to Cat-taro to find his consul as a means of obtaining a.s.sistance to reach England. There were, however, suspicious circ.u.mstances about the man that warranted the police in arresting him and carrying him off to prison. First of all, he was very poor, almost in rags, and emaciated to a degree little short of starvation. These were signs that vouched little for a man's character; indeed, the Podesta thought them damaging in the last degree; but there were others still worse. There were marks on his wrists and ankles which showed he had lately worn manacles and fetters--unmistakable marks: marks which the practised eye of gendarmes had declared must have been produced by the heavy chains worn by galley-slaves, so that the man was, without doubt, an escaped convict, and might be, in consequence, a very dangerous individual.

As the prisoner spoke neither Italian nor German, there was no means of interrogating him. They had therefore limited themselves to taking him into custody, and now held him at the disposal of the consular authority, to deal with him as it might please.

"May I see him?" asked L'Estrange.

"By all means; he is here. We have had him brought from the prison awaiting your Excellency's arrival. Perhaps you would like to have him handcuffed before he is introduced. The brigadier recommends it."

"No, no. If the poor creature be in the condition you tell me, he cannot be dangerous." And the stalwart curate threw a downward look at his own brawny proportions with a satisfied smile that did not show much fear.

The brigadier whispered something in the Podesta's ear in a low tone, and the great man then said aloud--"He tells me that he could slip the handcuffs on him now quite easily, for the prisoner is sound asleep, and so overcome by fatigue that he hears nothing."

"No, no," reiterated L'Estrange. "Let us have no hand-cuffs; and with your good permission, too, I would ask another favor: let the poor fellow take his sleep out. It will be quite time enough for me to see him when he awakes."

The Podesta turned a look of mingled wonder and pity on the man who could show such palpable weakness in official life; but he evidently felt he could not risk his dignity by concurrence in such a line of conduct.