My Novel
Chapter 159 : "I did, my Lord.""And he?""Denied your guilt; but still, a ma

"I did, my Lord."

"And he?"

"Denied your guilt; but still, a man of honour so nice, of heart so feeling, could not feign readily. His denial did not deceive me."

"Honest man!" said Harley; and his hand griped at the breast over which still rustled, as if with a ghostly sigh, the records of the dead. "He knew she had left a son, too?"

"He did, my Lord; of course, I told him that."

"The son whom I found starving in the streets of London! Mr. Dale, as you see, your words move me very much. I cannot deny that he who wronged, it may be with no common treachery, that young mother--for Nora Avenel was not one to be lightly seduced into error--"

"Indeed, no!"

"And who then thought no more of the offspring of her anguish and his own crime--I cannot deny that that man deserves some chastis.e.m.e.nt,--should render some atonement. Am I not right here? Answer with the plain speech which becomes your sacred calling."

"I cannot say otherwise, my Lord," replied the parson, pitying what appeared to him such remorse. "But if he repent--"

"Enough," interrupted Harley. "I now invite you to visit me at Lansmere; give me your address, and I will apprise you of the day on which I will request your presence. Leonard Fairfield shall find a father--I was about to say, worthy of himself. For the rest--stay; reseat yourself.

For the rest"--and again the sinister smile broke from Harley's eye and lip--"I will not yet say whether I can, or ought to, resign to a younger and fairer suitor the lady who has accepted my own hand. I have no reason yet to believe that she prefers him. But what think you, meanwhile, of this proposal? Mr. Avenel wishes his nephew to contest the borough of Lansmere, has urged me to obtain the young man's consent.

True, that he may thus endanger the seat of Mr. Audley Egerton. What then? Mr. Audley Egerton is a great man, and may find another seat; that should not stand in the way. Let Leonard obey his uncle. If he win the election, why, he 'll be a more equal match, in the world's eye, for Miss Digby, that is, should she prefer him to myself; and if she do not, still, in public life, there is a cure for all private sorrow. That is a maxim of Mr. Audley Egerton's; and he, you know, is a man not only of the nicest honour, but the deepest worldly wisdom. Do you like my proposition?"

"It seems to me most considerate, most generous."

"Then you shall take to Leonard the lines I am about to write."

LORD L'ESTRANGE TO LEONARD FAIRFIELD.

I have read the memoir you intrusted to me. I will follow up all the clews that it gives me. Meanwhile I request you to suspend all questions; forbear all reference to a subject which, as you may well conjecture, is fraught with painful recollections to myself. At this moment, too, I am compelled to concentre my thoughts upon affairs of a public nature, and yet which may sensibly affect yourself. There are reasons why I urge you to comply with your uncle's wish, and stand for the borough of Lansmere at the approaching election. If the exquisite grat.i.tude of your nature so overrates what I may have done for you that you think you owe me some obligations, you will richly repay them on the day in which I bear you hailed as member for Lansmere. Relying on that generous principle of self-sacrifice, which actuates all your conduct, I shall count upon your surrendering your preference to private life, and entering the arena of that n.o.ble ambition which has conferred such dignity on the name of my friend Audley Egerton. He, it is true, will be your opponent; but he is too generous not to pardon my zeal for the interests of a youth whose career I am vain enough to think that I have aided. And as Mr. Randal Leslie stands in coalition with Egerton, and Mr. Avenel believes that two candidates of the same party cannot both succeed, the result may be to the satisfaction of all the feelings which I entertain for Audley Egerton, and for you, who, I have reason to think, will emulate his t.i.tles to my esteem.

Yours, L'ESTRANGE.

"There, Mr. Dale," said Harley, sealing his letter, and giving it into the parson's hands,--"there, you shall deliver this note to your friend.

But no; upon second thoughts, since he does not yet know of your visit to me, it is best that he should be still in ignorance of it. For should Miss Digby resolve to abide by her present engagements, it were surely kind to save Leonard the pain of learning that you had communicated to me that rivalry he himself had concealed. Let all that has pa.s.sed between us be kept in strict confidence."

"I will obey you, my Lord," answered the parson, meekly, startled to find that he who had come to arrogate authority was now submitting to commands; and all at fault what judgment he could venture to pa.s.s upon the man whom he had regarded as a criminal, who had not even denied the crime imputed to him, yet who now impressed the accusing priest with something of that respect which Mr. Dale had never before conceded but to Virtue. Could he have then but looked into the dark and stormy heart, which he twice misread!

"It is well,--very well," muttered Harley, when the door had closed upon the parson. "The viper and the viper's brood! So it was this man's son that I led from the dire Slough of Despond; and the son unconsciously imitates the father's grat.i.tude and honour--Ha, ha!" Suddenly the bitter laugh was arrested; a flash of almost celestial joy darted through the warring elements of storm and darkness. If Helen returned Leonard's affection, Harley L'Estrange was free! And through that flash the face of Violante shone upon him as an angel's. But the heavenly light and the angel face vanished abruptly, swallowed up in the black abyss of the rent and tortured soul.

"Fool!" said the unhappy man, aloud, in his anguish--"fool! what then?

Were I free, would it be to trust my fate again to falsehood? If, in all the bloom and glory of my youth, I failed to win the heart of a village girl; if, once more deluding myself, it is in vain that I have tended, reared, cherished, some germ of woman's human affection in the orphan I saved from penury,--how look for love in the brilliant princess, whom all the sleek Lotharios of our gaudy world will surround with their homage when once she alights on their sphere! If perfidy be my fate--what h.e.l.l of h.e.l.ls, in the thought!--that a wife might lay her head in my bosom, and--oh, horror! horror! No! I would not accept her hand were it offered, nor believe in her love were it pledged to me.

Stern soul of mine, wise at last, love never more,--never more believe in truth!"

CHAPTER XVI.

As Harley quitted the room, Helen's pale sweet face looked forth from a door in the same corridor. She advanced towards him timidly.

"May I speak with you?" she said, in almost inaudible accents; "I have been listening for your footstep."

Harley looked at her steadfastly. Then, without a word, he followed her into the room she had left, and closed the door.

"I, too," said he, "meant to seek an interview with yourself--but later.

You would speak to me, Helen,--say on. Ah, child, what mean you? Why this?"--for Helen was kneeling at his feet.

"Let me kneel," she said, resisting the hand that sought to raise her.

"Let me kneel till I have explained all, and perhaps won your pardon.

You said something the other evening. It has weighed on my heart and my conscience ever since. You said 'that I should have no secret from you; for that, in our relation to each other, would be deceit.' I have had a secret; but oh, believe me! it was long ere it was clearly visible to myself. You honoured me with a suit so far beyond my birth, my merits.

You said that I might console and comfort you. At those words, what answer could I give,--I, who owe you so much more than a daughter's duty? And I thought that my affections were free,--that they would obey that duty. But--but--but--" continued Helen, bowing her head still lowlier, and in a voice far fainter--"I deceived myself. I again saw him who had been all in the world to me, when the world was so terrible, and then--and then--I trembled. I was terrified at my own memories, my own thoughts. Still I struggled to banish the past, resolutely, firmly. Oh, you believe me, do you not? And I hoped to conquer. Yet ever since those words of yours, I felt that I ought to tell you even of the struggle.

This is the first time we have met since you spoke them. And now--now--I have seen him again, and--and--though not by a word could she you had deigned to woo as your bride encourage hope in another; though there--there where you now stand--he bade me farewell, and we parted as if forever,--yet--yet O Lord L'Estrange! in return for your rank, wealth, your still n.o.bler gifts of nature, what should I bring?--Something more than grat.i.tude, esteem; reverence,--at least an undivided heart, filled with your image, and yours alone. And this I cannot give. Pardon me,--not for what I say now, but for not saying it before. Pardon me, O my benefactor, pardon me!"

"Rise, Helen," said Harley, with relaxing brow, though still unwilling to yield to one softer and holier emotion. "Rise!" And he lifted her up, and drew her towards the light. "Let me look at your face. There seems no guile here. These tears are surely honest. If I cannot be loved, it is my fate, and not your crime. Now, listen to me. If you grant me nothing else, will you give me the obedience which the ward owes to the guardian, the child to the parent?"

"Yes, oh, yes!" murmured Helen.

"Then while I release you from all troth to me, I claim the right to refuse, if I so please it, my a.s.sent to the suit of--of the person you prefer. I acquit you of deceit, but I reserve to myself the judgment I shall pa.s.s on him. Until I myself sanction that suit, will you promise not to recall in any way the rejection which, if I understand you rightly, you have given to it?"

"I promise."

"And if I say to you, 'Helen, this man is not worthy of you '"

"No, no! do not say that,--I could not believe you." Harley frowned, but resumed calmly, "If, then, I say, 'Ask me not wherefore, but I forbid you to be the wife of Leonard Fairfield, I what would be your answer?'"

"Ah, my Lord, if you can but comfort him, do with me as you will! but do not command me to break his heart."

"Oh, silly child," cried Harley, laughing scornfully, "hearts are not found in the race from which that man sprang. But I take your promise, with its credulous condition. Helen, I pity you. I have been as weak as you, bearded man though I be. Some day or other, you and I may live to laugh at the follies at which you weep now. I can give you no other comfort, for I know of none."

He moved to the door, and paused at the threshold: "I shall not see you again for some days, Helen. Perhaps I may request my mother to join me at Lansmere; if so, I shall pray you to accompany her. For the present, let all believe that our position is unchanged. The time will soon come when I may--"

Helen looked up wistfully through her tears.

"I may release you from all duties to me," continued Harley, with grave and severe coldness; "or I may claim your promise in spite of the condition; for your lover's heart will not be broken. Adieu!"

CHAPTER XVII.

As Harley entered London, he came suddenly upon Randal Leslie, who was hurrying from Eaton Square, having not only accompanied Mr. Avenel in his walk, but gone home with him, and spent half the day in that gentleman's society. He was now on his way to the House of Commons, at which some disclosure as to the day for the dissolution of parliament was expected.

"Lord L'Estrange," said Randal, "I must stop you. I have been to Norwood, and seen our n.o.ble friend. He has confided to me, of course, all that pa.s.sed. How can I express my grat.i.tude to you! By what rare talent, with what signal courage, you have saved the happiness--perhaps even the honour--of my plighted bride!"

"Your bride! The duke, then, still holds to the promise you were fortunate enough to obtain from Dr. Riccabocca?"

"He confirms that promise more solemnly than ever. You may well be surprised at his magnanimity."

"No; he is a philosopher,--nothing in him can surprise me. But he seemed to think, when I saw him, that there were circ.u.mstances you might find it hard to explain."