Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Who
shall we trust now," said Henry, "when those whom we take to our
inmost hearts deceive us thus? This is the greatest shock I have yet received.
If there be a pang greater than another, surely it is to be found in the
faithlessness and heartlessness of one we loved and trusted."
"He
is a scoundrel!" roared the admiral. "D—n him, he'll die on a
dunghill, and that's too good a place for him. I cast him off—I'll find him
out, and old as I am, I'll fight him—I'll wring his neck, the rascal; and, as
for poor dear Miss Flora, God bless her! I'll—I'll marry her myself, and make
her an admiral.—I'll marry her myself. Oh, that I should be uncle to such a
rascal!"
"Calm
yourself," said Henry, "no one can blame you."
"Yes,
you can; I had no right to be his uncle, and I was an old fool to love
him."
The
old man sat down, and his voice became broken with emotion as he said,—
"Sir,
I tell you I would have died willingly rather than this should have happened.
This will kill me now,—I shall die now of shame and grief."
Tears
gushed from the admiral's eyes and the sight of the noble old man's emotion did
much to calm the anger of Henry which, although he said but little, was boiling
at his heart like a volcano.
"Admiral
Bell," he said, "you have nothing to do with this business; we can
not blame you for the heartlessness of another. I have but one favour to ask of
you."
"What—what
can I do?"
"Say
no more about him at all."
"I
can't help saying something about him. You ought to turn me out of the
house."
"Heaven
forbid! What for?"
"Because
I'm his uncle—his d——d old fool of an uncle, that always thought so much of
him."
"Nay,
my good sir, that was a fault on the right side, and cannot discredit you. I
thought him the most perfect of human beings."
"Oh,
if I could but have guessed this."
"It
was impossible. Such duplicity never was equalled in this world—it was
impossible to foresee it."
"Hold—hold!
did he give you fifty pounds?"
"What?"
"Did
he give you fifty pounds?"
"Give
me fifty pounds! Most decidedly not; what made you think of such a thing?"
"Because
to-day he borrowed fifty pounds of me, he said, to lend to you."
"I
never heard of the transaction until this moment."
"The
villain!"
"No,
doubt, sir, he wanted that amount to expedite his progress abroad."
"Well,
now, damme, if an angel had come to me and said 'Hilloa! Admiral Bell, your
nephew, Charles Holland, is a thundering rogue,' I should have said 'You're a
liar!'"
"This
is fighting against facts, my dear sir. He is gone—mention him no more; forget
him, as I shall endeavour myself to do, and persuade my poor sister to
do."
"Poor
girl! what can we say to her?"
"Nothing,
but give her all the letters, and let her be at once satisfied of the
worthlessness of him she loved."
"The
best way. Her woman's pride will then come to her help."
"I
hope it will. She is of an honourable race, and I am sure she will not
condescend to shed a tear for such a man as Charles Holland has proved himself
to be."
"D—n
him, I'll find him out, and make him fight you. He shall give you
satisfaction."
"No,
no."
"No?
But he shall."
"I
cannot fight with him."
"You
cannot?"
"Certainly
not. He is too far beneath me now. I cannot fight on honourable terms with one
whom I despise as too dishonourable to contend with. I have nothing now but
silence and contempt."
"I
have though, for I'll break his neck when I see him, or he shall break mine.
The villain! I'm ashamed to stay here, my young friend."
"How
mistaken a view you take of this matter, my dear sir. As Admiral Bell, a
gentleman, a brave officer, and a man of the purest and most unblemished
honour, you confer a distinction upon us by your presence here."
The
admiral wrung Henry by the hand, as he said,—
"To-morrow—wait
till to-morrow; we will talk over this matter to morrow—I cannot to-night, I
have not patience; but to-morrow, my dear boy, we will have it all out. God
bless you. Good night."
THE NOBLE CONFIDENCE OF FLORA BANNERWORTH IN HER LOVER.—HER
OPINION OF THE THREE LETTERS.—THE ADMIRAL'S ADMIRATION.
To
describe the feelings of Henry Bannerworth on the occasion of this apparent
defalcation from the path of rectitude and honour by his friend, as he had
fondly imagined Charles Holland to be, would be next to impossible.
If,
as we have taken occasion to say, it be a positive fact, that a noble and a
generous mind feels more acutely any heartlessness of this description from one
on whom it has placed implicit confidence, than the most deliberate and wicked
of injuries from absolute strangers, we can easily conceive that Henry
Bannerworth was precisely the person to feel most acutely the conduct which all
circumstances appeared to fix upon Charles Holland, upon whose faith, truth,
and honour, he would have staked his very existence but a few short hours
before.
With
such a bewildered sensation that he scarcely knew where he walked or whither to
betake himself, did he repair to his own chamber, and there he strove, with
what energy he was able to bring to the task, to find out some excuses, if he
could, for Charles's conduct. But he could find none. View it in what light he
would, it presented but a picture of the most heartless selfishness it had ever
been his lot to encounter.
The
tone of the letters, too, which Charles had written, materially aggravated the
moral delinquency of which he had been guilty; belief, far better, had he not
attempted an excuse at all than have attempted such excuses as were there put
down in those epistles.
A
more cold blooded, dishonourable proceeding could not possibly be conceived.
It
would appear, that while he entertained a doubt with regard to the reality of
the visitation of the vampyre to Flora Bannerworth, he had been willing to take
to himself abundance of credit for the most honourable feelings, and to induce
a belief in the minds of all that an exalted feeling of honour, as well as a
true affection that would know no change, kept him at the feet of her whom he
loved.
Like
some braggart, who, when there is no danger, is a very hero, but who, the
moment he feels convinced he will be actually and truly called upon for an
exhibition of his much-vaunted prowess, had Charles Holland deserted the
beautiful girl who, if anything, had now certainly, in her misfortunes, a far
higher claim upon his kindly feeling than before.
Henry
could not sleep, although, at the request of George, who offered to keep watch
for him the remainder of the night he attempted to do so.
He in
vain said to himself, "I will banish from my mind this most unworthy
subject. I have told Admiral Bell that contempt is the only feeling I can now
have for his nephew, and yet I now find myself dwelling upon him, and upon his
conduct, with a perseverance which is a foe to my repose."
At
length came the welcome and beautiful light of day, and Henry rose fevered and
unrefreshed.
His
first impulse now was to hold a consultation with his brother George, as to
what was to be done, and George advised that Mr. Marchdale, who as yet knew
nothing of the matter, should be immediately informed of it, and consulted, as
being probably better qualified than either of them to come to a just, a cool,
and a reasonable opinion upon the painful circumstance, which it could not be
expected that either of them would be able to view calmly.
"Let
it be so, then," said Henry; "Mr. Marchdale shall decide for
us."
They
at once sought this friend of the family, who was in his own bed-room, and when
Henry knocked at the door, Marchdale opened it hurriedly, eagerly inquiring
what was the matter.
"There
is no alarm," said Henry. "We have only come to tell you of a
circumstance which has occurred during the night, and which will somewhat
surprise you."
"Nothing
calamitous, I hope?"
"Vexatious;
and yet, I think it is a matter upon which we ought almost to congratulate
ourselves. Read those two letters, and give us your candid opinion upon
them."
Henry
placed in Mr. Marchdale's hands the letter addressed to himself, as well as
that to the admiral.
Marchdale
read them both with marked attention, but he did not exhibit in his countenance
so much surprise as regret.
When
he had finished, Henry said to him,—
"Well,
Marchdale, what think you of this new and extraordinary episode in our
affairs?"
"My
dear young friends," said Marchdale, in a voice of great emotion, "I
know not what to say to you. I have no doubt but that you are both of you much astonished
at the receipt of these letters, and equally so at the sudden absence of
Charles Holland."
"And
are not you?"
"Not
so much as you, doubtless, are. The fact is, I never did entertain a favourable
opinion of the young man, and he knew it. I have been accustomed to the study
of human nature under a variety of aspects; I have made it a matter of deep,
and I may add, sorrowful, contemplation, to study and remark those minor shades
of character which commonly escape observation wholly. And, I repeat, I always
had a bad opinion of Charles Holland, which he guessed, and hence he conceived
a hatred to me, which more than once, as you cannot but remember, showed itself
in little acts of opposition and hostility."
"You
much surprise me."
"I
expected to do so. But you cannot help remembering that at one time I was on
the point of leaving here solely on his account."
"You
were so."
"Indeed
I should have done so, but that I reasoned with myself upon the subject, and
subdued the impulse of the anger which some years ago, when I had not seen so
much of the world, would have guided me."
"But
why did you not impart to us your suspicions? We should at least, then, have
been prepared for such a contingency as has occurred."
"Place
yourself in my position, and then yourself what you would have done. Suspicion
is one of those hideous things which all men should be most specially careful
not only how they entertain at all, but how they give expression to. Besides,
whatever may be the amount of one's own internal conviction with regard to the
character of any one, there is just a possibility that one may be wrong."
"True,
true."
"That
possibility ought to keep any one silent who has nothing but suspicion to go
upon, however cautious it may make him, as regards his dealings with the
individual. I only suspected from little minute shades of character, that would
peep out in spite of him, that Charles Holland was not the honourable man he
would fain have had everybody believe him to be."
"And
had you from the first such a feeling?"
"I
had."
"It
is very strange."
"Yes;
and what is more strange still, is that he from the first seemed to know it;
and despite a caution which I could see he always kept uppermost in his
thoughts, he could not help speaking tartly to me at times."
"I
have noticed that," said George.
"You
may depend it is a fact," added Marchdale, "that nothing so much
excites the deadly and desperate hatred of a man who is acting a hypocritical
part, as the suspicion, well grounded or not, that another sees and understands
the secret impulses of his dishonourable heart."
"I
cannot blame you, or any one else, Mr. Marchdale," said Henry, "that
you did not give utterance to your secret thoughts, but I do wish that you had
done so."
"Nay,
dear Henry," replied Mr. Marchdale, "believe me, I have made this
matter a subject of deep thought, and have abundance of reasons why I ought not
to have spoken to you upon the subject."
"Indeed!"
"Indeed
I have, and not among the least important is the one, that if I had acquainted
you with my suspicions, you would have found yourself in the painful position
of acting a hypocritical part yourself towards this Charles Holland, for you
must either have kept the secret that he was suspected, or you must have shewn
it to him by your behaviour."
"Well,
well. I dare say, Marchdale, you acted for the best. What shall we do
now?"
"Can
you doubt?"
"I
was thinking of letting Flora at once know the absolute and complete
worthlessness of her lover, so that she could have no difficulty in at once
tearing herself from him by the assistance of the natural pride which would
surely come to her aid, upon finding herself so much deceived."
"The
test may be possible."
"You
think so?"
"I
do, indeed."
"Here
is a letter, which of course remains unopened, addressed to Flora by Charles
Holland. The admiral rather thought it would hurt her feelings to deliver her
such an epistle, but I must confess I am of a contrary opinion upon that point,
and think now the more evidence she has of the utter worthlessness of him who professed
to love her with so much disinterested affection, the better it will be for
her."
"You
could not, possibly, Henry, have taken a more sensible view of the
subject."
"I
am glad you agree with me."
"No
reasonable man could do otherwise, and from what I have seen of Admiral Bell, I
am sure, upon reflection, he will be of the same opinion."
"Then
it shall be so. The first shock to poor Flora may be severe, but we shall then
have the consolation of knowing that it is the only one, and that in knowing
the very worst, she has no more on that score to apprehend. Alas, alas! the
hand of misfortune now appears to have pressed heavily upon us indeed. What in
the name of all that is unlucky and disastrous, will happen next, I
wonder?"
"What
can happen?" said Marchdale; "I think you have now got rid of the
greatest evil of all—a false friend."
"We
have, indeed."
"Go,
then, to Flora; assure her that in the affection of others who know no
falsehood, she will find a solace from every ill. Assure her that there are hearts
that will place themselves between her and every misfortune."
Mr.
Marchdale was much affected as he spoke. Probably he felt deeper than he chose
to express the misfortunes of that family for whom he entertained so much
friendship. He turned aside his head to hide the traces of emotion which,
despite even his great powers of self-command, would shew themselves upon his
handsome and intelligent countenance. Then it appeared as if his noble
indignation had got, for a few brief moments, the better of all prudence, and
he exclaimed,—
"The
villain! the worse than villain! who would, with a thousand artifices, make
himself beloved by a young, unsuspecting, and beautiful girl, but then to leave
her to the bitterness of regret, that she had ever given such a man a place in
her esteem. The heartless ruffian!"
"Be
calm, Mr. Marchdale, I pray you be calm," said George; "I never saw
you so much moved."
"Excuse
me," he said, "excuse me; I am much moved, and I am human. I cannot
always, let me strive my utmost, place a curb upon my feelings."
"They
are feelings which do you honour."
"Nay,
nay, I am foolish to have suffered myself to be led away into such a hasty
expression of them. I am accustomed to feel acutely and to feel deeply, but it
is seldom I am so much overcome as this."
"Will
you accompany us to the breakfast room at once, Mr. Marchdale, where we will
make this communication to Flora; you will then be able to judge by her manner
of receiving it, what it will be best to say to her."
"Come,
then, and pray be calm. The least that is said upon this painful and harassing
subject, after this morning, will be the best."
"You
are right—you are right."
Mr.
Marchdale hastily put on his coat. He was dressed, with the exception of that
one article of apparel, when the brothers came to his chamber, and then he came
to the breakfast-parlour where the painful communication was to be made to
Flora of her lover's faithlessness.
Flora
was already seated in that apartment. Indeed, she had been accustomed to meet
Charles Holland there before others of the family made their appearance, but,
alas! this morning the kind and tender lover was not there.
The
expression that sat upon the countenances of her brothers, and of Mr.
Marchdale, was quite sufficient to convince her that something more serious
than usual had occurred, and she at the moment turned very pale. Marchdale
observed this change of change of countenance in her, and he advanced towards
her, saying,—
"Calm
yourself, Flora, we have something to communicate to you, but it is a something
which should excite indignation, and no other feeling, in your breast."
"Brother,
what is the meaning of this?" said Flora, turning aside from Marchdale,
and withdrawing the hand which he would have taken.
"I
would rather have Admiral Bell here before I say anything," said Henry,
"regarding a matter in which he cannot but feel much interested
personally."