Miles Tremenhere Volume Ii Part 7

"Oh, Dora!" cried the agitated Minnie, "how could you, for one moment, believe so wicked a thing against me!--To think I could love any one but Miles! And I must be doubly base, to even listen to common flattery or gallantry from Lord Randolph, to whom you are engaged!"

"Pardon me, Minnie," answered her cousin decidedly. "I am _not_ engaged to that gentleman, and never shall be; for, if you are innocent, as I will believe even without knowing all, _he_ a.s.suredly must have been connected in some manner with the affair."

Minnie then related all from the first, and though her cousin acquitted her of all blame, except linking herself, as she termed it, "with an improper woman--that Mary Burns," still she could not divest her mind of the idea that Lord Randolph was quite innocent. She begged Tremenhere's pardon for the wrong she had done him in her mind, and, whatever her feelings might be to Minnie, her heart rejoiced in not knowing him base, who had once been more than a pa.s.sing thought. Tremenhere received her apologies with cold reserve, and, stifling feelings which were distracting him, he inquired from whom all this information had emanated. Lady Dora, however, could give no exact account. She had heard it openly spoken of by those who were not aware that she was in any way allied to either party. With some difficulty--for he was obliged to veil his intentions from observation--Miles ascertained that the affair had been spoken of at his club by more than one person. This satisfied him; he knew then how to act; so he changed the subject, and affected a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, which continued even after Lady Dora had quitted the house. He did not allude to the reports; but there was something so n.o.ble in the heart of that man, that he banished all his own suffering from the surface, that evening, to soothe and cheer Minnie, who was low and depressed, beyond her own power to control the feeling.

The following day Miles rose more cheerfully than he had done of late; and, as soon as breakfast was over, he started for town. He really felt lighter at heart, for he had something tangible--not a mere shadow--to deal with. He had, without appearing anxious on the subject, elicited from Lady Dora the names of one or two persons who had spoken of this affair--and now it was to their houses he went. After a long research, he found one of them was still in Brighton; so sitting down at a friend's, for he avoided his club, he wrote a kind note to Minnie, telling her not to alarm herself, but possibly he might not return that evening. His manner had so completely thrown her off her guard, that she did not dream of the possible business occupying him.

He arrived in Brighton, and in perfect composure proceeded to the hotel of the gentleman who had mentioned the affair. The meeting was at first one of extreme frigidity on the part of both, especially the gentleman's. Miles was determined and calm, having right on his side; the other hem'd and haw'd, evading a direct answer, when the former demanded from whom he had heard the reports in question.

"It will only then, sir, remain for me to treat you as the author," said Miles coldly, turning to quit the room.

"What do you mean?" cried the other, advancing.

"Simply what I say. If a gentleman propagates a vile, calumnious report of a virtuous woman, and then refuses to state the author, that he may be made publicly retract his slander, and re-establish the lady's fame, there is but one path possible, and that is, through the only known medium. I hold you, sir, responsible."

His cool determination alarmed the other. It is not a very pleasant thing to have a hole made through one's body, by either sword or bullet, because one possesses a talkative friend. A parley ensued; and then at last Miles went forth with another name--this was a lady's, rather more difficult to deal with. The only way, then, is to find out the lady's nearest household tie; and, in case of refusal on her part, appeal to him. They say men have an easy time of it; but a.s.suredly such would not be the case, were some less pacific than they are in demanding reason and authority from ladies for all they utter; and were their fathers, husbands, brothers, etc., looked upon as responsible agents to act for them. In such a case, were I a man, I would marry a woman who always wore a respirator. She would talk but little, if compelled to whistle her phrases through layers of wires. a.s.suredly, these things were invented by some clever man with a Xantippe for wife.

But to return to Tremenhere. The lady he waited upon was one of those beings whose milk of human kindness had, at her birth, been turned to vinegar and gall. She never said a kind thing, except from some motive, and to those even she professed, or was bound to like; she delighted in uttering the most galling innuendoes; and she looked her character.

When Tremenhere was announced, she received him, though almost a stranger, with an air of pity, perfectly dreadful--that kind of air which inclines one to exclaim at once, "Don't pity me, for there's nothing in my case to excite that feeling--I won't be pitied!"

Here he had little difficulty at first, for no sooner did he name the motive of his visit, than the old lady commenced a string of well-arranged untruths, which amazed Tremenhere, and clearly showing how wisely he had acted in sifting the affair thoroughly. When she concluded--for the _historiette_ was delivered as crudely to his ears, as if he were a perfectly indifferent personage in it--he could not but bite his lip; but seeing at a glance the nature of his informant, he deprived her by his coolness of half her satisfaction. Verily, dame Nature has three tubs at hand, in which she dips her children when she creates them, according to the caprice of the moment--one containing honey and milk, one vinegar and gall, and the other an amalgamation of spices.

When this abluted thing in the second tub had told her tale, she paused--this was not what Tremenhere intended, so he simply inquired her informant's name. Oh! this she never could give! It had been related to her under a promise never to divulge the name; she never could!

"And so, madam," he said contemptuously, "though you feel bound in honour to conceal the name, no such feeling prevents your blasting the fame of a pure, innocent woman, by promulgating infamous falsehoods, which I am resolved to silence; since, then, you decline giving me the vile author's name, it is to your son I must apply!"

This was a lesson the lady had never learned, and it would be well if it were more frequently taught to those who only exist with satisfaction to themselves, by ruining the fame of the innocent, whom they detest, and cannot comprehend. A loud shriek burst from the terrified woman; for, if she did love any thing but herself on earth, it was her tall rawbone son, in the Grenadiers--but not all her entreaties could avail, Tremenhere was resolute, he was on the track, one footprint lost, his game might elude his grasp. With many sighs, and beatings of her chest, for heart she had none, the name burst forth of Mr. Marmaduke Burton, and with its utterance a deep groan struggled from Miles's bosom, but it was one of satisfaction; for not only did he hold his bitter enemy, but the union of events for the moment convinced him of Minnie's innocence, and the other's authors.h.i.+p of the plot to destroy his peace. With a lightened heart, he quitted the bewailing woman, who allowed it to escape her, that it had been confided to her, on a solemn promise given _not to name him_; and Burton, in doing so, imagined she would not, for a fellows.h.i.+p of feeling and mind made him an especial favourite of hers, and he well knew, in telling her, the facts would lose nothing, and Miles be irretrievably lost in all respectable society; he did not calculate upon its arriving so quickly at his ears, neither of his determined conduct should it do so. He did not yet know his cousin.

CHAPTER VII.

Tremenhere lost no time now in following up his intentions; he inquired every where, and at last discovered that Burton was in town. Late that same evening, he returned home, and great was his satisfaction to find Skaife domiciled there. He, we have said, was the only man in the world, perhaps, of whom he could not feel jealous; where lay the germ of extraordinary confidence, 'tis impossible to say, but with open-hearted confidence he wrung Skaife's hand, which cheered poor Minnie's heart, for she was terrified at the fancies her mind had been conjuring up about Miles's return; and when he said to the other, "I am delighted to see you," there was no mistaking the truth of the feeling: Miles could not feign a cordiality he did not feel. The union of these three gave rise to one of the few happy evenings, or even tranquil ones, Minnie had pa.s.sed of late. Skaife came laden with letters and love from Dorcas, and even poor Mrs. Gillett. Of the many painful things they had heard at Gatestone, he said nothing before Minnie; he spoke cheeringly, and did not even utter what he thought, of her being unhappy, when he gazed with a stifled sigh on her altered face. It was in good truth Minnie spiritualized; for she seemed scarcely mortal, so thin, pale, and heavenly patient she looked.

When she had retired, then Tremenhere, no longer under any restraint, spoke of all his care, his wretchedness, which he strove to conceal from her; but though he mentioned the reports which had reached him through Lady Dora, he pa.s.sed them over lightly. There was no man to whom he would sooner have applied, as a friend in such a case, than to Skaife, but his calling forbade it; he could not act with Tremenhere, and this was what he now required in a friend; neither durst he confide in the other all his plans; they might be betrayed in kindness to Minnie, or, even more seriously, to authorities which would frustrate them. He spoke painedly of them, but yet, rather to Skaife's surprise, also added, that time alone must clear them up.

"I am a wretched man!" he said. "There is a weight on my heart nothing, I fear, can remove."

"Surely," cried the other, "you cannot, for an instant, suspect your wife? You must see, and know, that the deep villainy of one man alone, has produced all these sad events? Let me conjure you, do not give him the triumph of seeing that he has succeeded in estranging your heart from one so good and pure."

"Skaife, I never shall love any one as I love her; 'tis that love which makes my existence one of torture, for my base nature is fighting against my better judgment, and at times it gains the mastery. There are moments," and his voice trembled as he uttered these last words, "that I wish she were dead; for then I could alone, bear my crus.h.i.+ng sorrow; but the fear that she may ever love another, or even survive myself, is worse than the bitterest death could be!"

"Do not utter such things!" exclaimed Skaife, with a cold shudder.

"Place all your faith and reliance on her: _she_ will never deceive you, but your own heart may, and prove your basest traitor."

"Well, let us not speak more of it now. A day of retribution must come for that villain, Burton; leave him to fate--she has long arms and clutching hands." His apparent coolness disappointed the other; for he felt, without thinking of a hostile meeting, that Tremenhere might, and ought to seek means of silencing these slanders, and he resolved on a future occasion to suggest as much to him.

Before returning to Chiswick from Brighton, Tremenhere had sought a friend on whom he could rely; and, placing the affair in his hands, requested that no time might be lost in seeking Burton, to solicit the name of a friend who would act for him, in a meeting with Tremenhere. No apology would suffice, unless he consented to publish to the world, in terms not to be misunderstood, the whole part he had taken in the affair, from first to last; and this it was scarcely likely he would do.

Having arranged this, he returned, in the more tranquil mood in which we have seen him, to his home.

Early the following morning his friend came to the villa. He had called upon Burton, who essayed with white lips to deny any partic.i.p.ation in the affair, from first to last. The evidence of the persons whom Tremenhere had seen in Brighton, he treated with perfect contempt, as inventions to screen some other person; and finally refused most positively to meet his cousin. He had a prejudice against duelling, he said, especially with one whom he had known from boyhood; he sincerely pitied him for his turbulent, ungovernable temper, and great hatred towards himself. In short, he summed up all by hypocritically drawling forth, that could he serve him in any way, he too gladly would do so; and a.s.suredly, to injure him, was farthest from his thoughts; and concluded with much deceitful, mawkish sentiment.

When his friend related this, Tremenhere paced the room, at first in indignant, contemptuous rage; then an unwonted calm came over him, and he smiled as he said, stepping before his visiter--"This man has taught me a talent I never might have possessed without him: that of watching, unseen, the movements of others. I will return to town with you; I have paved the way for doing so without exciting suspicion. I must act decidedly and secretly, for that coward else, will seek the protection of the law, and defeat my object. Let us be off."

And, quitting the studio where they were, he entered the drawing-room where sat Minnie and Skaife, she looking so much happier than of late had been the case. Tremenhere, too, seemed light at heart. He was a man so generous by nature, that the greater the sacrifice he made for a person, the better he loved them. He was ready to offer up his life for Minnie, for in his moments of energetic feeling he _knew_ her innocent.

'Twas only when the muscular power relaxed with thought and care, that he doubted her; it had removed a load of suspicion from his heart, the knowing who really, beyond mistake, was his enemy, he knew so well all he was capable of. As he took his hat to quit the room, his full, deep glance fell on his wife, who was looking timidly at him. Skaife saw the look. It spoke so much wretchedness, that his heart ached bitterly for her. Coming towards her, Miles stooped, and, unheeding the presence of the other two, warmly embraced her. "Be a good girl, Minnie," he said cheerfully, "and amuse our good friend, Skaife, and I'll bring you--a fairing," he added laughing, "from town." His glance crossed his friend's as he spoke.

"Bring yourself soon," she said, smiling in his face; "'twill be my best present."

He pressed her hand warmly in reply. There was so much renewal of love, that she felt her heart full of hope--long foreign to it.

Tremenhere and his friend drove quickly to town; the former's object was, to watch Burton to his club, whither he went about twelve every day--and his, was Miles's. It is probable, that had this latter been in the habit of going himself every day, Burton would have quitted the field; as it was, Tremenhere had, by his absence, left him master of it; and here, as Tremenhere had ascertained, was the spot where he circulated his scandals freely to his own set. The two friends drove to the top of the street where Burton's hotel was, and stopping the cab where it would not attract notice, they resolved to watch for awhile, before inquiring for him of the hall porter. Fortune favoured them this time, for in less than half an hour, Burton came forth on foot; and glancing carelessly up the street, walked on, and the cab followed. As they hoped, he proceeded to his club, within a few doors of which the others alighted, and walked quickly towards it. Burton entered the reading-room, where sat some dozen or more men, poring over their papers; thence he stepped into another, nor noticed his cousin, who followed at a distance, keeping him in view.

Tremenhere's aim was attained: in the reading-room he met several friends,--acquaintances were better said; hastily addressing each, without appearing to notice the chilling looks of some, he said, calling each by name, "Leave your papers awhile, and follow me; I will give you something better worth seeing than aught you may meet with there."

And most did so, for curiosity is a spirit fluttering over the heads of the many, few indeed are those eschewing her wors.h.i.+p. On walked Tremenhere, accompanied by his friend, and in his wake came the others.

At last he stood silently, surveying all in the room, where dozens were collected, some in knots talking, others at breakfast, others reading.

In a glance Tremenhere took in all this, and the faces of friend and foe. He advanced a step. Burton stood with his back towards him, conversing with two or three persons. Was it instinct which made him suddenly turn, and grow white as the snowiest cloth on those tables, when he saw Tremenhere _erect_, smiling, and towering in height and manly beauty, as lie gave him a glance of scorn? He stopped suddenly in what he was uttering, and made a movement to quit the room by a side-door. There is a power, an irresistible spell, in dignity and right combined, (indeed the former cannot exist without the latter,) which make the meaner mind bow down before them.

"Stop, Marmaduke Burton!" cried Tremenhere with his full, rich voice of command. Burton made an involuntary pause, and then, with a quick shuffling gait, attempted to seem dignified as he moved towards the door. "Stop him!" cried Tremenhere again, calmly waving his hand, "that he may at least have the satisfaction of hearing me, face to face, proclaim him slanderer, liar, and coward!"

Burton was forced to turn. At these words a movement pa.s.sed over the whole room--no one, however, spoke.

"Look at him!" said Tremenhere, contemptuously. "He dare not face what he has done; were it not from inability to move--for no shame withholds him--he would fly!"

"These are harsh words," said an officer, advancing; "are you prepared to prove them?"

"That I am," answered the other; and in words as brief as possible he told the tale, and his visit to Brighton--the evidence there--summing up all with the refusal on Burton's part to meet him.

"It pains me deeply," continued Tremenhere, with much emotion, "to drag the name of my wife before this a.s.sembly; but her accusations have been openly spoken, or whispered in every select circle where my humble name is known. 'Tis true I might have sought my remedy by law; but I leave such to colder hearts and heads than mine. I forgot," he added, looking round upon all, "to present myself to many who may not know me. I am Miles Tremenhere, now an humble artist, once heir of the manor-house, ----, Yorks.h.i.+re; that, my worthy cousin, who from childhood had been my companion, has for a while--_only for a while_--deprived me of----but let that rest. I came to-day to proclaim him what you have all heard, and he _dare_ not deny it. Once I have horsewhipped him for his base seduction of an innocent girl,--flogging is thrown away on callous skins like his; so I brand him--liar and coward!"

"Sir," said Burton, endeavouring to seem calm, "you shall answer for this, and bitterly rue it."

"Answer it!" laughed the other, "when and where you will; this is all I ask at your hands."

"Ah, T_w_emenhere!" exclaimed a voice, as the speaker just entered the room, amazed at the _fracas_, but ignorant of the cause, "is that you?--what a st_w_anger you are," and he held out a hand. Tremenhere's trembled as he warmly shook it: he was all woman in gentler emotions, and never was there a more grateful heart than his; he felt Vellumy's act deeply. This act seemed the signal which many had been awaiting, not from wavering indifference, but for want of the electric spark, which moves Englishmen more slowly than others, but surer, when its propelling force comes, than all the very warm and sudden impulses in the world.

In an instant Tremenhere was surrounded. Those who a day before had condemned him, perhaps too hastily, on the whispered calumnies of Burton, now pressed forward to press his hand. Some few, whose dislocated nerves can never be strengthened to any thing warmer than zero, grumbled at the disturbance, and talked of secretaries, rules, etc., etc.; but the majority rejoiced as over a lost brother restored, for Miles had been a favourite with all.

In the midst of this, Burton had slunk away; he could not bully, nor defy; Tremenhere had proof in the evidence of his (Burton's) kindred spirit, and betraying confidant, at Brighton. And certainly there was no table so merry as the one at which Tremenhere sat, surrounded by his friends, to repair a scarcely touched breakfast at home. He would have preferred leaving at once, to return to Minnie and Skaife, especially to remove from the latter's brow that not-to-be-mistaken cloud of disappointment, which he had seen gathered there, at his own supposed coolness and indifference about his wife's fame. But policy dictated another course; there was much he had not explained, and he took this opportunity of doing so. It is indeed to be regretted, that the finest natures admit of pa.s.sions dark and overwhelming, and the strongest minds are, in some things, the weakest. To see Tremenhere amidst his friends, glowing with joy at having restored Minnie to fame, who could imagine that he ever again would be led down the bitter path of doubt and suspicion, or that these two poisons were only awhile dormant in his breast?

When he entered his home, for some moments he could scarcely speak, then, grasping Skaife's hand, he said--

"Give me a grasp from your heart, my friend--to-day you could not, I saw that--now you may, for I have done what a man should."

"You do not mean!" exclaimed the man of peace, with a feeling akin to alarm, "that you----"