CHAPTER XL.
From the house of Sir Philip Hastings Mr. Short rode quickly on to thecottage of Mistress Best, which he had visited once before in themorning. The case of John Ayliffe, however, was becoming more and moreurgent every moment, and at each visit the surgeon saw a change in thecountenance of the young man which indicated that a greater changestill was coming. He had had a choice of evils to deal with; forduring the first day after the accident there had been so much feverthat he had feared to give any thing to sustain the young man'sstrength. But long indulgence in stimulating liquors had had its usualeffect in weakening the powers of the constitution, and rendering itliable to give way suddenly even where the corporeal powers seemed attheir height. Wine had become to John Ayliffe what water is to mostmen, and he could not bear up without it. Exhaustion had succeededrapidly to the temporary excitement of fever, and mortification hadbegun to show itself on the injured limb. Wine had become necessary,and it was administered in frequent and large doses; but as astimulant it had lost its effect upon the unhappy young man, and whenthe surgeon returned to the cottage on this occasion, he saw not onlythat all hope was at an end, but that the end could not be very fardistant.
Good Mr. Dixwell was seated by John Ayliffe's side, and looked up tothe surgeon with an anxious eye. Mr. Short felt his patient's pulsewith a very grave face. It was rapid, but exceedingly feeble--went onfor twenty or thirty beats as fast as it could go--then stoppedaltogether for an instant or two, and then began to beat again asquickly as before.
Mr. Short poured out a tumbler full of port wine, raised John Ayliffea little, and made him drink it down. After a few minutes he felt hispulse again, and found it somewhat stronger. The sick man lookedearnestly in his face as if he wished to ask some question; but heremained silent for several minutes.
At length he said, "Tell me the truth, Short. Am not I dying?"
The surgeon hesitated, but Mr. Dixwell raised his eyes, saying, "Tellhim the truth, tell him the truth, my good friend. He is betterprepared to bear it than he was yesterday."
"I fear you are sinking, Sir John," said the surgeon.
"I do not feel so much pain in my leg," said the young man.
"That is because mortification has set in," replied Mr. Short.
"Then there is no hope," said John Ayliffe.
The surgeon was silent; and after a moment John Ayliffe said, "God'swill be done."
Mr. Dixwell pressed his hand kindly with tears in his eyes; for theywere the Christian words he had longed to hear, but hardly hoped for.
There was a long and somewhat sad pause, and then the dying man oncemore turned his look upon the surgeon, asking, "How long do you thinkit will be?"
"Three or four hours," replied Mr. Short. "By stimulants, as long asyou can take them, it may be protracted a little longer, but notmuch."
"Every moment is of consequence," said the clergyman. "There is muchpreparation still needful--much to be acknowledged and repentedof--much to be atoned for. What can be done, my good friend toprotract the time?"
"Give small quantities of wine very frequently," answered the surgeon,"and perhaps some aqua vit?--but very little--very little, or you mayhurry the catastrophe."
"Well, well," said John Ayliffe, "you can come again, but perhaps bythat time I shall be gone. You will find money enough in my pockets,Short, to pay your bill--there is plenty there, and mind you send therest to my mother."
The surgeon stared, and said to himself, "he is wandering;" but JohnAyliffe immediately added, "Don't let that rascal Shanks have it, butsend it to my mother;" and saying "Very well, Sir John," he took hisleave and departed.
"And now my dear young friend," said Mr. Dixwell, the moment thesurgeon was gone, "there is no time to be lost. You have the power ofmaking full atonement for the great offence you have committed to oneof your fellow creatures. If you sincerely repent, as I trust you do,Christ has made atonement for your offences towards God. But you mustshow your penitence by letting your last acts in this life be just andright. Let me go to Sir Philip Hastings."
"I would rather see his daughter, or his wife," said John Ayliffe: "heis so stern, and hard, and gloomy. He will never speak comfort orforgiveness."
"You are mistaken--I can assure you, you are mistaken," answered theclergyman. "I will take upon me to promise that he shall not say onehard word, and grant you full forgiveness."
"Well, well," said the young man, "if it must be he, so be it--butmind to have pen and ink to write it all down--that pen won't write.You know you tried it this morning."
"I will bring one with me," said Mr. Dixwell, rising eager to be goneon his good errand; but John Ayliffe stopped him, saying, "Stay,stay--remember you are not to tell him any thing about it till he isquite away from his own house. I don't choose to have all the peopletalking of it, and perhaps coming down to stare at me."
Mr. Dixwell was willing to make any terms in order to have what hewished accomplished, and giving Mrs. Best directions to let thepatient have some port wine every half hour, he hurried away to theCourt.
On inquiring for Sir Philip, the servant said that his master hadridden out.
"Do you know where he is gone, and how long he will be absent?" askedMr. Dixwell.
"He is gone, I believe, to call at Doctor Juke's, to consult about mylady," replied the man; "and as that is hard upon twenty miles, hecan't be back for two or three hours."
"That is most unfortunate," exclaimed the clergyman. "Is your ladyup?"
The servant replied in the negative, adding the information that shewas very ill.
"Then I must see Mistress Emily," said Mr. Dixwell, walking into thehouse. "Call her to me as quickly as you can."
The man obeyed, and Emily was with the clergyman in a few moments,while the servant remained in the hall looking out through the opendoor.
After remaining in conversation with Mr. Dixwell for a few minutes,Emily hurried back to her room, and came down again dressed forwalking. She and Mr. Dixwell went out together, and the servant sawthem take their way down the road in the direction of Jenny Best'scottage: but when they had gone a couple of hundred yards, theclergyman turned off towards his own house, walking at a very quickpace, while Emily proceeded slowly on her way.
When at a short distance from the cottage, the beautiful girl stopped,and waited till she was rejoined by Mr. Dixwell, who came up verysoon, out of breath at the quickness of his pace. "I have ordered thewine down directly," he said, "and I trust we shall be able to keephim up till he has told his story his own way. Now, my dear younglady, follow me;" and walking on he entered the cottage.
Emily was a good deal agitated. Every memory connected with JohnAyliffe was painful to her. It seemed as if nothing but misfortune,sorrow, and anxiety, had attended her ever since she first saw him,and all connected themselves more or less with him. The strange sortof mysterious feeling of sympathy which she had experienced when firstshe beheld him, and which had seemed explained to her when she learnedtheir near relationship, had given place day by day to stronger andstronger personal dislike, and she could not now even come to visithim on his death-bed with the clergyman without feeling a mixture ofrepugnance and dread which she struggled with not very successfully.
They passed, however, through the outer into the inner room whereMistress Best was sitting with the dying man, reading to him the NewTestament. But as soon as Mr. Dixwell, who had led the way, entered,the good woman stopped, and John Ayliffe turned his head faintlytowards the door.
"Ah, this is very kind of you," he said when he saw Emily, "I can tellyou all better than any one else."
"Sir Philip is absent," said Mr. Dixwell, "and will not be home forseveral hours."
"Hours!" repeated John Ayliffe. "My time is reduced to minutes!"
Emily approached quietly, and Mrs. Best quitted the room and shut thedoor. Mr. Dixwell drew the table nearer to the bed, spread somewriting paper which he had brought with him upon it, and dipped a penin the ink, as a hint that no time was to
be lost in proceeding.
"Well, well," said John Ayliffe with a sigh, "I won't delay, though itis very hard to have to tell such a story. Mistress Emily, I have doneyou and your family great wrong and great harm, and I am very, verysorry for it, especially for what I have done against you."
"Then I forgive you from all my heart," cried Emily, who had beeninexpressibly shocked at the terrible change which the young man'sappearance presented. She had never seen death, nor was aware of theterrible shadow which the dark banner of the great Conqueror oftencasts before it.
"Thank you, thank you," replied John Ayliffe; "but you must notsuppose, Mistress Emily, that all the evil I have done was out of myown head. Others prompted me to a great deal; although I was readyenough to follow their guidance, I must confess. The two principalpersons were Shanks the lawyer, and Mrs. Hazleton--Oh, that woman is,I believe, the devil incarnate."
"Hush, hush," said Mr. Dixwell, "I cannot put such words as thosedown, nor should you speak them. You had better begin in order too,and tell all from the commencement, but calmly and in a Christianspirit, remembering that this is your own confession, and not anaccusation of others."
"Well, I will try," said the young man faintly, lifting his hand fromthe bed-clothes, as if to put it to his head in the act of thought.But he was too weak, and he fell back again, and fixing his eyes on aspot in the wall opposite the foot of the bed, he continued in a sortof dreamy commemorative way as follows: "I loved you--yes, I loved youvery much--I feel it now more than ever--I loved you more than youever knew--more than I myself knew then. (Emily bent her head and hidher eyes with her hands.) It was not," he proceeded to say, "that youwere more beautiful than any of the rest--although that was truetoo--but there was somehow a look about you, an air when you moved, amanner when you spoke, that made it seem as if you were of a differentrace from the rest--something higher, brighter, better, and as if yournobler nature shone out like a gleam on all you did--I cannot helpthinking that if you could have loved me in return, mine would havebeen a different fate, a different end, a different and brighter hopeeven now--"
"You are wandering from the subject, my friend," said Mr. Dixwell."Time is short."
"I am not altogether wandering," said John Ayliffe, "but feel faint.Give me some more wine." When he had got it, he continued thus: "Ifound you could not love me--I said in my heart that you would notlove me; and my love turned into hate--at least I thought so--and Idetermined you should rue the day that you had refused me. Long beforethat, however, Shanks the lawyer had put it into my head that I couldtake your father's property and title from him, and I resolved someday to try, little knowing all that it would lead me into step bystep. I had heard my mother say a hundred times that she had been asgood as married to your uncle who was drowned, and that if right hadbeen done I ought to have had the property. So I set to work withShanks to see what could be done. Sometimes he led, sometimes I led;for he was a coward, and wanted to do all by cunning, and I was boldenough, and thought every thing was to be done by daring. We had bothof us got dipped so deep in there was no going back. I tore one leafout of the parish register myself, to make it seem that yourgrandfather had caused the record of my mother's marriage to bedestroyed--but that was no marriage at all--they never were,married--and that's the truth. I did a great number of other very evilthings, and then suddenly Mrs. Hazleton came in to help us; andwhenever there was any thing particularly shrewd and keen to bedevised, especially if there was a spice of malice in it towards SirPhilip or yourself, Mrs. Hazleton planned it for us--not telling usexactly to do this thing of that, but asking if it could not be done,or if it would be very wrong to do it. But I'll tell you them all inorder--all that we did."
He went on to relate a great many particulars with which the reader isalready acquainted. He told the whole villanous schemes which had beenconcocted between himself, the attorney, and Mrs. Hazleton, and whichhad been in part, or as a whole, executed to the ruin of Sir PhilipHastings' fortune and peace. The good clergyman took down his wordswith a rapid hand, as he spoke, though it was somewhat difficult; forthe voice became more and more faint and low.
"There is no use in trying now," said John Ayliffe in conclusion,"when I am going before God who has seen and known it all. There is nouse in trying to conceal any thing. I was as ready to do evil as theywere to prompt me, and I did it with a willing heart, though sometimesI was a little frightened at what I was doing, especially in the nightwhen I could not sleep. I am sorry enough for it now--I repent from mywhole heart; and now tell me--tell me, can you forgive me?"
"As far as I am concerned, I forgive you entirely," said Emily, withthe tears in her eyes, "and I trust that your repentance will be fullyaccepted. As to my father, I am sure that he will forgive you also,and I think I may take upon myself to say, that he will either come orsend to you this night to express his forgiveness."
"No, no, no," said the young man with a great effort. "He must notcome--he must not send. I have made the atonement that he (pointing toMr. Dixwell) required, and I have but one favor to ask. Pray, praygrant it to me. It is but this. That you will not tell any one of thisconfession so long as I am still living. He has got it all down. Itcan't be needed for a few hours, and in a few, a very few, I shall begone. Mr. Dixwell will tell you when it is all over. Then tell whatyou like; but I would rather not die with more shame upon my head if Ican help it."
The good clergyman was about to reason with him upon the differencesbetween healthful shame, and real shame, and false shame, but Emilygently interposed, saying, "It does not matter, my dear sir; a fewhours can make no difference."
Then rising, she once more repeated the words of forgiveness, andadded, "I will now go and pray for you, my poor cousin--I will praythat your repentance may be sincere and true--that it may be acceptedfor Christ's sake, and that God may comfort you and support you evenat the very last."
Mr. Dixwell rose too, and telling John Ayliffe that he would return ina few minutes, accompanied Emily back towards her house. They parted,however, at the gates of the garden; and while Emily threaded her waythrough innumerable gravelled walks, the clergyman went back to thecottage, and once more resumed his place by the side of the dying man.
The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne Page 40