Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER V.

  The day of trial at length arrived, and the court, from the roof tothe floor, seemed one sea of faces, crowded together like the "studiesof heads" on a painter's canvass. During the legal investigation,which was conducted with deep solemnity and anxious perseverance, themystery became still deeper, and more inscrutable. No appearance of arobbery could be observed, except that the finger of the lady's hand,on which a wedding ring had probably been worn, was much bruised anddiscolored, as if, immediately after her decease, it had beenviolently torn off; and a vain attempt had evidently been made tosnatch away a gold chain hung round her neck, to which was appended asmall broken miniature frame, set with brilliants, and adorned withwhat seemed to represent a very antique coronet. The portrait which itonce enclosed, had been, with obvious difficulty removed, as the markswere visible all round, of some sharp-pointed instrument having beeninserted in the frame, to which there still adhered several brokenfragments of glass.

  Sarah Davenport, who had been fully committed for trial, on suspicionof being an accomplice, refused to give any references as tocharacter, and was strongly suspected of habitually concealing herreal name, and of more than once assuming those that were fictitious,as her clothes and linen appeared to be marked with various initials,but in not one case did they bear those that she pretended were herown. It was evident that she labored under a powerful, butforcibly-subdued excitement; yet, with a tone and manner externallycold and hard as Siberian ice, she persisted in professing her ownperfect innocence, and her utter consciousness of anything that mightby possibility lead to a discovery of the perpetrators. She coldly,and almost calmly, threw back glance for glance, on the spectatorsnearest her, who were keenly watching every turn of her countenance,while dark surmises, and fearful conjectures, were whispered inmurmurs of horror on every side; but at length her eye wandered to adistant part of the court, when suddenly a livid paleness flashed uponher face--an indescribable but startling lustre glittered in hereyes--her whole frame shook, as in the coldest blast of winter, andwith a suppressed groan of agony and fear, she bowed her head upon herhands, and sunk fainting upon the floor. At the same time, a man wasobserved hastily to leave the court, and, gliding with rapid stepsthrough the narrow passages, disappeared, before any of those whostood near had presence of mind to stop him, or could even identifyhis appearance.

  Nothing apparently touched the feelings of Sarah Davenport, exceptwhen a suspicion seemed to be implied that she meant to injure theboy; and when a question to this effect was put to her by the court,she wrung her hands and burst into tears, saying, in accents ofpiercing anguish, though with a shudder as if death were upon her,"No! oh, no! Who suspects that I would injure a hair of his head! Heonce loved me! Few--few but he, ever did!--none that have notafterwards given me reason to hate them! I am a solitary, lost, anddesolate being; but let him not forget in after years, that I savedhis life!--that I saved it at a risk you never can conceive!"

  An impulse of mournful interest and astonishment ran through theassembled multitude, when they beheld the rare and singular beauty ofthe child, after he was led into court; and it seemed as if thespectators had ceased to breathe as soon as he began to answer some ofthe questions which were skilfully put, to draw out his recollectionsof past times, and especially the dark history of the last few weeks.He was at first shy and intimidated, but gradually regained anunexpected degree of self-possession, and spoke with a surprisingdegree of intelligence and distinctness of all he remembered.

  The boy retained a faint recollection of having been awakened, on thenight of the murder, by some violent scene of strife and horror; buthis faculties had evidently been so benumbed by opiates, that nodistinct impression remained; and to his own young mind, the wholeseemed like a fearful dream, too dreadful to look back upon even yet,except with bewildering terror. He gave a clear account, however, ofthe last evening he had passed with his mother, of whom he spoke inaccents of infantine affection, evidently unable yet to conceive thathe should see her face no more.

  An old gentleman, he said, had come into the room and spoken angrilyto her; while, with astonishing precision, the boy acted over thewhole scene, recapitulated some of the language they had used, anddescribed how his mother had hung to him with frantic eagerness,saying she would promise anything, if she might only retain her child;how the stranger, who was very tall, and wore a black coat, had spokenagain with angry vehemence before he left the room; and how hismother, when left alone, had prayed and wept over him with looks ofagonized and desolate grief, until he had been carried away to bed bythe maid, who administered some medicine to him, which she said thedoctor had ordered.

  He spoke much also of a large room, hung with pictures, in which hisearliest days had been passed, and of a small dark apartment closebeside it, into which he had often been precipitately hurried,apparently for concealment, and where toys and sweetmeats had beenalways provided to keep him quiet, while he was punished with theutmost severity, for making the slightest noise; and he stillremembered with looks of apprehension, the gentleman dressed in black,who most frequently visited him there, and often caused his mother toweep bitterly.

  Sarah Davenport was then recalled, and rigidly cross-examined,respecting the gentleman who had visited at the house; but shedoggedly asserted her entire ignorance respecting his rank in life, orconnections, and pertinaciously maintained that the lady's death hadbeen her own voluntary act, and that the sleeping potion had beengiven to the boy by his mother's own imperative orders, as she did notherself know even what it contained.

  During a long and anxious consultation of the jury, there was a hushedand intense silence in the court, so still and unbroken, that thebreathing of an infant would have been audible, while every eyeperused the countenance of the prisoner, with an intensity thatbrought a hectic flush, burning like fire, upon her cheek, and shegazed around with a glance of anger that caused her beauty for themoment to look like that of a fiend or a fury.

  At length, after arduously scrutinizing every atom of evidence thatcould be gathered, the jury, though morally certain of the prisoner'sbeing an accomplice in the crime, felt unwillingly obliged to bring ina verdict of "not proven," and she was immediately liberated, afterwhich, amidst the yells, jeers, and execrations of the populace whowere convinced of her criminality, she hurried from the court, and wasseen no more.

  Nothing is half so attractive as a mystery, and many crowded at first,with a temporary enthusiasm, to see the beautiful boy, so strangelybereaved, and so cruelly abandoned; but the interest and excitement ofhearing and relating his story were soon superseded by greater wondersand fresher news. In a world where all are rushing on headlong inpursuit of novelty, and where events, great or small, are speedilyhurried into one common oblivion, people were tired at last ofthinking or talking about young Henry and his concerns.

  Every one of the Admiral's friends hinted that he could have managedthe whole affair ten times better than Sir Arthur; all blamed him formany things, and praised him for very few; the Admiral was wonderedat, criticised, discussed, admired, pitied, and censured, more than heremembered to have been for many years before; and the givers ofadvice were lavish of propositions and objections, all which wereborne by their venerable friend with good-humored indifference,whether adopted or not. At length some perfectly new murders fromLondon came on the tapis in society; those who liked reading in theJack Sheppard style were satiated with studies from the life; theMording Post assumed a terrifying interest; and the lady of fashionwho consulted Sir Henry Halford about her appetite, because she couldno longer enjoy her murders and robberies at breakfast, would havethought, when they were coming out hot and hot every week, that it wasa wearisome repetition to speculate another hour upon a murder nearlya month old.

  In short, "the Portobello story" ceased to be told or listened to.Henry had had his day. There is no such thing now as a nine days'wonder, because nothing lasts so long. Young De Lancey had been talkedof as much as any reasonable being could expect to b
e talked of; andnow it was universally voted a bore whenever the subject occurred inconversation; for, as Lady Towercliffe remarked, with a verylong-drawn yawn, when, for the last time, it was alluded to in herpresence, "It was a shocking, barbarous, and really startling affair;but all stories should be allowed to die out like an echo, which growsfainter and fainter at every repetition. One cannot be for evertalking of the same thing."

  When Henry De Lancey lost one parent, he certainly gained another inSir Arthur, who often afterwards remarked, that in no instance couldvirtue be more obviously its own parent, than in the case of anykindness he had shown to this fascinating boy, whose gay, joyousspirits became a source of perpetual amusement to him, while theAdmiral seemed to derive new life from watching the frolicsome gambolsof his young companion, occasionally enlivened by the gleeful vivacityof his niece Marion, when she escaped a single day from the trammelsof school, bringing generally in her train two of her favoritejuvenile companions, Clara Granville and Caroline Smythe, both severalyears older than herself.

  On many occasions the sensibility of Henry De Lancey seemed already tohave attained almost the depth and intensity of manhood, so strongwere the bursts of natural feeling with which he occasionally spoke oracted, while it was deeply affecting to trace throughout theextraordinary progress thus early made in his education, the carefulculture given to his remarkable abilities--the pains bestowed by hissolitary parent to strengthen his mind for future difficulties andsorrows, the earliest and worst of which she could so little haveforeseen or apprehended.

  With considerable thoughtfulness of character, however, and naturalintegrity of mind, which Sir Arthur was delighted from the first toremark, yet, when the merry group of young friends assembled togetheron the shore of Portobello, building houses of sand, or runningeagerly in search of shells, it would have been difficult to say whichwas the most carelessly happy, while the Admiral seemed to borrowtheir young spirits for the time, and gazed with ceaseless delight onthose joyous countenances, radiant with laughter and smiles, whichwere archly turned towards their aged playmate, sometimes with achallenge to run after them, or lighted up with smiles of affectionwhen they brought him a bouquet of his favorite flowers, torn roughlyfrom the stems, and crumpled in their little hands.

  Sir Arthur often seemed almost ashamed to betray the engrossinginterest and delight he felt in his young companion, who gained everyday a stronger hold upon his affections, and it appeared as if he wereanxious to forget that a time had ever existed when the playful andinteresting boy was unknown to his heart; but a circumstance occurred,not long after Henry's adoption, which brought painfully to mind, withgreatly increased solicitude, the fearful mystery that hung over hisorigin, proving also that danger still threatened him from someunforeseen quarter.

  While the whole party of his young guests were noisily engaged on theshore in a game at hide-and-seek, one day in the month of July, SirArthur had seated himself on a bench within sight of them, sometimeswatching their gambols with pleasure, and frequently conning over anewspaper, which proved by undeniable and satisfactory demonstration,that the country was entirely ruined--that the Government was comingto an end--that the Houses of Lords and Commons would be completelydemolished--that the ministry had not another day to exist--and, as agrand climax, that anarchy, confusion, bankruptcy, and revolution,were about finally to drop their extinguisher over Great Britain. SirArthur had read the same thing in different words every day duringfifty years, and under twenty varied administrations; yet still thewonder grew, how a constitution so mismanaged could so long survive,and that when all was wrong at the head of the country, it still had aleg to stand on. The Admiral's patriotic meditations had been severaltimes interrupted by repeated complaints from the little girls, thatHenry had hid himself so well, that they could not possibly find him;but he was too much pre-occupied to give the subject much attention,till at length Martin announced that the children's dinner had waitedsome time, and that still the boy was not to be found, though hiscompanions had been searching for him at least half an hour.

  Upon hearing this, Sir Arthur hastily started up, making aconsiderable expenditure of energetic and wondrous explanations, whilehe gazed around with increasing surprise at the wide waste of sand,like an Arabian desert, with which he was on every side encompassed,and where it seemed to him as if a mouse could not be long concealed.

  A hasty and most anxious search was instantly commenced in the garden,while Sir Arthur and Martin shouted the name of Henry at the fullpitch of their voices, but in vain; not a sound was heard in reply,nor was there a spot unexamined in which he could by possibility belurking.

  The Admiral now became seriously alarmed at so unaccountable adisappearance, especially when the child's gardening tools, with whichhe had been last observed, were found mutilated and broken, at a greatdistance, on the beach--one of his shoes had fallen off close to thewater, and his hat lay nearly buried in the tide. Sir Arthur instantlysummoned the police to his aid, but the search continued fruitless,till at length the dreadful conjecture became more and more probable,that Henry must have rashly ventured into the water, and been washedaway by the waves--in pursuance of which apprehension Sir Arthursummoned more assistance, that the water might instantly be dragged.

  Martin, meantime, no less active than his master, had accidentally meta stranger on the beach, who mentioned, on hearing of his alarm, thaton the road to Leith, half an hour before, he had observed a boystruggling and screaming in the arms of a female, dressed like anursery-maid, who complained loudly that the child would not go home,when a young man, rather strangely dressed, and of very singularappearance, had instantly offered his assistance, and carried himforcibly onwards. This gentleman said he had stopped the woman toremonstrate with her on using the boy so roughly, as a cap was drawnover his eyes, and he seemed to suffer agonies of terror, sobbingconvulsively, and trembling in every limb; but the man had answered inreply, with a strong Irish accent, that he would see the child safe tohis friends, and let no one do the poor boy "a taste of harm." Thestranger added indifferently, that it was no affair of his, thereforehe ceased to interfere; but he thought both the man and the woman hada very bad expression, and he would not trust either of them with hisdog for an hour, to use it kindly.

  Without wasting time in returning to communicate what he had heard,Martin hurried forward to Leith, where, with reckless speed anduntiring diligence, he threaded all the narrow streets, and elbowedhis way among carts, carriages, parcels, and passengers, till atlength he reached the pier, to which he had been so eagerly aiming hissteps. At its farthest point stood a smoking steam-boat in full boil,while men and women, boxes, packages, bags, and trunks were pouringin; and at length, as he breathlessly approached within some hundredyards, an arbitrary little bell was rung, to summon stragglers onboard, and to hurry stragglers away.

  A single plank, connecting the steam-boat with the pier, was on thepoint of being withdrawn, when Martin approached; and while he paused,in momentary hesitation whether to pursue his almost hopeless search,the steward peremptorily desired him to hasten on board instantly, ifhe were coming at all, as not a moment more could be lost.

  At this moment a cry, almost amounting to a scream of childish joy,became audible on the deck--a young boy was seen vehemently strugglingin the arms of a female; and in an instant, pursued by a man whovainly endeavored to overtake him, he rushed past the steward, ranacross the temporary bridge, and clasped Martin round the knees,exclaiming, with eager incoherent exclamations of almost hystericaldelight, "Take me, Martin! take me! O let me go home to Sir Arthur! Idid not come away without leave! I did not, indeed! That naughty,horrid woman forced me! She tied a cap over my face, and would not letme go back! I have been so frightened and so sorry," added the child,bursting into tears, and sobbing as if his heart would break; "Ithought Sir Arthur would be angry, and I thought, perhaps, I wouldnever see him again! O take me home, Martin! take me home! and let menever see these people again!"

  The boy put his hand, w
ith an air of happy confidence and securityinto that of Martin, who snatched him up in his arms, with a thousandexpressions of joyful surprise; but a moment afterwards, when herecollected himself, his first impulse was to secure the culprits whohad decoyed Henry away, and to deliver them up to a magistrate forexamination. With this intention, he looked hastily around, intendingto cause their immediate apprehension; but the steam-boat had sailedoff; and all the gesticulations he could make to bring them back onlycaused the steward laughingly to shake his head, thinking that Martinhad merely missed his passage, as he deserved, for not showing morealacrity in obeying his injunctions to embark.

  At Portobello, meantime, Sir Arthur had suffered agonies of grief, andeven of self-reproach, thinking he had too securely relied on thesafety of his young protege; and with a heavy heart he was stilldirecting his steps, and conducting his assistants to the mostprobable places for finding the child's body, having already orderedhis maid to have everything in readiness, in case a chance remained ofhis being restored to life, when he felt a gentle pull at the skirt ofhis coat, and, on looking down, he uttered a volley of joyfulexclamations, on beholding the radiant countenance of Henry, whom heclasped in his arms with unutterable joy. While Martin and the boyhimself gave each his own history of the strange adventure, Sir Arthurwalked up and down in a state of irrepressible irritation, clenchinghis teeth, and grasping his walking-stick firmly in his hand, as ifabout to wreak instant vengeance on the miscreants. At length, afterexhausting his indignation, he took Henry again in his arms, declaringhe would never for a moment lose sight of him again.

  Nothing in Henry's narrative threw the slightest gleam of light on theplans or intentions of the strange man and woman, which seemeddestined to remain buried in impenetrable obscurity. They hadevidently been accomplices in decoying him from home; and the boy hadbrought away from the steam-boat a small book which they had givenhim, full of ribald songs and profane jests, but covered withmagnificent boards, and clasped with silver hinges, which seemed tohave once belonged to some ancient missal, and still retained in theinside a collection of texts beautifully written in a very remarkablehand, which seemed to be that of a highly-educated female.

  For some time afterwards, several suspicious-looking people were seenlurking about Sir Arthur's premises, late at night; and one evening ashot was fired suddenly in at the drawing-room window, which passed sonear to Henry's head, that his hair was actually disturbed; but thoughan active police had been placed on the watch, not a trace could beobtained of the authors of this outrage.

  As time wore on, and the mind of Henry rapidly expanded on allsubjects of classical learning and general science, the fearful andmelancholy events of his early years faded considerably from his mind,while he made astonishing progress at the excellent school where SirArthur placed him, exhibiting that happy, but rare combination of deepthought, and refinement of mind, with extreme liveliness of fancy, andenthusiasm of character. This threw a perfect witchery over hisconversation, which sparkled with vivacity, or flowed with uncommondepth and power, as best suited the occasion, while at the same time,during his intercourse with Sir Arthur, he became imbued with thehighest principles of honor and good-feeling; and from his master heimbibed the most enlightened knowledge of the doctrines and duties ofChristianity, with the profoundest reverence for its precepts andpractice.

  Sir Arthur felt a dreary blank during Henry's absence at school, whichbecame more and more intolerable as his eyesight was at length nearlyextinct; and he had serious thoughts of engaging a person to walk outwith him during the day, and to read to him during the evening, beingof opinion that it is the highest wisdom, as well as the bestChristianity, cheerfully to meet every appointed privation, and derivefrom the blessings that remain, as much enjoyment as they can afford.

  Sir Arthur often remarked to his friend, Lady Towercliffe, that it is amisfortune to wear out a taste of any inoffensive occupation; and hebegan to fear it might be possible for him to survive his enjoyment ofreading. "In my long life," he observed, "I have myself travelled allthe travels described by others, thought all the thoughts, and feltall the feelings. If I read such a book as Robertson's America, forinstance, the question forces itself upon me, 'what the better would Ibe of knowing this whole volume by heart!' The time was once, when aromance carried me off into another existence altogether, and I seemedto awaken as from a dream, when called back to the ordinary businessof life; but now I can anticipate from the first page, the whole_denouement_ of every novel, and never for an instant forget my ownidentity in reading the story."

  "It is a shocking symptom of advancing years," said Lady Towercliffe."But you must wait till I publish."

  "Yet," continued Sir Arthur, "there is one volume always new, in whichI never can tire of reading my own heart and character; and in theBible, the descriptions of eastern countries are so like what I haveobserved myself of the scenery, customs, and manners, that they fillme with recollections and associations that are of endless interest."

  No sooner had Sir Arthur mentioned incidentally, to Lady Towercliffe,and several friends, that he would willingly give a handsome salary toa person of good reading and writing abilities, than it seemed as ifall the meritorious young men in Scotland happened at that very timeto be looking out for precisely such a situation; and it made SirArthur almost melancholy in examining testimonials, which ought tohave procured any one of them a bishopric, to think that so manyadmirable youths, of learning and talents, were ready to sacrificethemselves for a mere home, and a pittance of L50 per annum!

  No situation ever became vacant in the memory of man, for which LadyTowercliffe had not some protege exactly suited; and no sooner did shehear that Sir Arthur required a secretary and reader, than she wrotehim a note of seven pages, closely penned, in which she made itevident that there was but one individual in the world who could suit,or ought to suit, and that one individual was the bearer of herdespatch, who waited below for an answer.

  It appeared that, with all her zeal in the cause, Lady Towercliffeknew very little of the young man she so vehemently recommended; buthaving accidentally met him in a bookseller's shop, he had beenemployed by her to copy some verses in an album, and she thought him,without exception, one of the most civil and grateful creatures in theworld, who really deserved encouragement.

  When Sir Arthur sent for Mr. Howard up stairs, his kind heart wasalmost shocked at the tone of wild energy, and the look of feverishanxiety with which he entreated that his capabilities might be tried.His figure, though youthful, was tall, gaunt, and meagre, while hiscare-worn countenance, which bore a stern and melancholy aspect, waslighted up by large, dark, flashing eyes, in which there gleamed anexpression of singular excitement. He appeared young and handsome, butnot prepossessing--so gloomy and determined was the expression of hisfirmly-compressed mouth, that it seemed almost indicative of ferocity;and his eye had that peculiarity invariably expressing evil--animpossibility of looking any one steadily in the face.

  "You see me under great disadvantage, Sir Arthur; friendless,homeless, and poverty-struck," said Mr. Howard, with a look of eager,deprecating solicitude, which spoke at once to the generous heart ofthe Admiral, and filled him with commiseration. "Fate and fortune havehitherto frustrated my efforts, and weighed me down with life-crushingsorrows; but only give me employment, and I would not thank the Queento be my cousin!"

  It was a favorite saying with Sir Arthur, that he would be moreashamed to suspect mankind, than to be deceived by them; and if he hada weakness in the world it was a total incapacity to give pain.Touched by the nervous excitement in Mr. Howard's eye and manner,which he attributed entirely to his necessitous circumstances, healmost immediately engaged him, to the entire satisfaction of LadyTowercliffe, who never asked or cared any more about her protege,gratified that he had achieved "a job," and that by her interest, andhers only, a place in the world had been filled up, which would havebeen occupied by some one else, perhaps equally deserving, if she hadnot interfered, and she was satisfied fo
r the present to have been ofconsequence to somebody, no matter whom.

  Mr. Howard generally spoke in a subdued, mysterious voice, as ifafraid to let himself know what he was saying; yet sometimes his wordscame forth with a rushing impetuosity, full of energy and fire, likelightning itself. His hollow, blood-shot eyes, betrayed a wild,watchful, suspicious expression, by no means prepossessing; and therewas something inscrutable in the bland, perpetual smile he always woreupon his countenance, and in the frozen tranquillity of his manner,which occasionally, though seldom, gave way to bursts of tempestuousemotion. The very pupils of his eyes seemed to have become darker,with a fearfully wild and ferocious expression when irritated, whilethe fierce fire flashed out from beneath his lowering brows, with ablaze of inexpressible fury; yet in a moment he could command himselfagain into a cold, calm, and almost haughty exterior, while thespectral paleness of his handsome countenance made him look likemarble itself.

  Years passed on, during which Sir Arthur endured, rather than enjoyed,Mr. Howard's attendance, whose pre-occupied air and vague mannercontinually annoyed him; but his benevolent heart shrunk fromconsigning the poor man to that hopeless and solitary want which heseemed to apprehend must inevitably follow the loss of his presentsituation, and from day to day he postponed the decision, till habitgrew into second nature, and he became so accustomed to hear "TheTimes," column after column, spouted forth in a rather theatrical toneby his reader, and to dictate notes and letters to his very silent anddiligent secretary, that he almost forgot at last to think of partingwith him.

  When Henry returned for the first time from school, six or sevenmonths after Mr. Howard had become domesticated at Portobello, thesecretary professed a vehement fancy for the boy, would fetch andcarry for him like a tame dog, and loaded him with attentions; yet,though in general most affectionately grateful to all who showed himeven a trifling kindness, these assiduities and flatteries werelavished upon him in vain. The boy shrunk instinctively from Mr.Howard's notice, but could assign no other reason to himself or othersfor this apparently unreasonable antipathy, except merely that thestranger resembled somebody he had seen before, but how, when, orwhere, not a trace remained in his memory. This little caprice did notappear to be noticed or resented by the secretary, till one day, whenHenry refused some bon-bons which Mr. Howard offered him, saying, thelast he accepted had made him sick, and when the boy soon after flewgaily out of the room, Marion was for a moment startled and surprisedto observe the malignant scowl with which the eye of Mr. Howardfollowed Henry. It was a glance, fell and malignant, that feared to beseen, while his cheek became pale as death, but whether in anger or insorrow, Marion thought it impossible to divine.

  As Henry grew older, his instinctive dread of Mr. Howard seemed onlyto increase, but he was too considerate to disturb the tranquillity ofSir Arthur by mentioning it, or to injure the poor man himself, bygiving way to a feeling of dislike so unaccountable, and yet soperfectly unconquerable; but at length, after many years of suchprudent self-restraint, when nearly grown up to manhood he could nothelp saying one day, in a careless tone, to the Admiral, afterwitnessing a sudden outbreak of temper in Mr. Howard that morning,

  "Your secretary always reminds me, Sir Arthur, of Sinbad's Old Man ofthe Sea. It seems impossible to get handsomely rid of him, and he willnever certainly make a voluntary departure!"

  "I fear not!" replied the Admiral, with something between a smile anda sigh. "He does all I desire him, but without interest or pleasure,and he has the most undisguised contempt for every living being,almost amounting to hatred, yet he expresses unbounded gratitude forbeing harbored in my house. What can I do? It would be cruel to kickthe man out of doors, merely because he is unhappy; but I have oftenobserved, Henry, that he is no favorite of yours, though that is theonly subject on which you have never been entirely open with me."

  "Because I am heartily ashamed of my feelings, Sir Arthur, and you arethe last person on earth to whom I wish to tell anything againstmyself. You have told me there are people with a loathing antipathy tocats, and somewhat similar is the shuddering sensation with which Isee your worthy secretary enter the room. A sort of shiver comes overme, and a wish to keep him off--to avoid his very glance and touch. Hehas a strange under-look certainly! His smile makes me shudder! andyet the feeling is quite undefinable! They say dogs and children havean instinctive liking or antipathy to those who secretly like or hatethem, and perhaps my sensation is on somewhat similar grounds.

  "There is something fearful in the eye of Mr. Howard, occasionally,when I catch it fixed upon myself," added Henry rapidly, but in a sortof musing, absent under-tone, while his voice acquired a deeper tingeof thought, "I seem to have beheld him once in a dream! When he looksat me in that strange and extraordinary manner, his eyes like theflickering glare of light in a gloomy cavern, I feel and know that atsome period in my life I have seen such a countenance before! The timeand place have escaped me, but the remembrance is painful, and in hispresence I cannot but be convinced that I am in the presence of anenemy. It is a feeling I can neither drive away, nor distinctlyrealize!"

  "Why did you never tell me this before, Henry?" asked the Admiral,rising with agitation. "He has been hardly dealt with by fortune, butsurely you do not think----"

  "Think!!--; I think nothing, Sir Arthur, for I know nothing, and Iought not to have spoken as I have done,--it was wrong and rash. Ishall try to conquer this,--to conquer myself,--and, as they say,acquired tastes are always the strongest, I may yet learn to like Mr.Howard better than any one living; but, in the mean time, Sir Arthur,he does occasionally look to me, very like some stray member of theLunatic Asylum!"

  "I sometimes think," said Sir Arthur, "that Howard has a bee in hisbonnet."

  "He has a whole hive of bees in his bonnet!" replied Henry in hisusual off-hand tone; but when he looked round, as is usual, whenpeople are spoken of, the individual himself, Mr. Howard, stood beforehim. A mortal paleness had overspread his countenance, contendingemotions seemed flitting across his lowering brow, like shiftingclouds in a threatening sky, and his eye gleamed upon young De Lanceywith a look of maniacal fury; but the same artificial smile was on hislips which he habitually assumed, while, in the blandest tone ofcourtesy, he turned from the steady penetrating gaze of Henry to SirArthur, saying, in a tone of servile cunning, but with a smile themost ghastly that was ever seen on a human face,

  "Every fool can find fault, but my livelihood fortunately depends noton any boyish caprice. It is derived from the generosity of a noblemind, unbiassed by cruel and unfounded prejudices, which may, however,yet be my ruin. A small leak sinks a great ship, and even you, mybenefactor, may hereafter be influenced by the opinion of one whoavowedly hates me, though without cause,--I should have little todread if he were like you, but then who is? Come what may, however,you deserve and shall ever retain my undying gratitude and attachment.I have met with little kindness in life, and am never likely to forgetthat little, from whatever benevolent heart it comes. In this bleak,desolate, most harsh and cruel world, you are now my only friend."

  "Those who have deserved friends, Mr. Howard, are seldom so entirelydestitute of them!" said Sir Arthur, with a certain tone ofinterrogation in his voice, for he abhorred the slightest approach toflattery, and always had an instinctive apprehension that it wasaccompanied by deceit. "We are too ready often to throw the blame uponhuman nature, when our own individual nature is to blame. For my ownpart, I have met with little unkindness or ingratitude hitherto, andwould willingly look upon the sunny side of life, hoping all things,and believing all things, of mankind in general, and of yourself amongthe number."

  The darkened sight of Sir Arthur prevented him from perceiving that inthe countenance of Mr. Howard there flitted a quick succession ofemotions, fiery and vivid as summer lightning, but Henry observed withastonishment the powerful though ineffectual efforts he made tocontrol his agitation. His hands were clenched, till the very bloodseemed ready to spring; he gnawed his nether lip with frightfulvehemence, an
d his eyes shot fire from beneath his dark and frowningbrow. With a glance of unspeakable malevolence at Henry, and a hurriedbow to Sir Arthur, he hastened with rapid steps out of the room, andsubsequently out of the house.

  "If there be a madman out of bedlam, Sir Arthur, that is he!"exclaimed Henry, following with his eyes the rushing steps of Howard,as he crossed the garden. "Before I go to college, let me hope youwill dismiss him. Give the man a trifling pension, or do anything forhim, rather than trust yourself in his hands, for I am mistaken,indeed, if he is not a bad and dangerous man."

  "Before you return here, I may perhaps be able to find some othersituation for him; but he has done nothing yet, Henry, to forfeit myprotection, and I scarcely think he would live, if I dismissed him. Hehas drank a bitter cup of wretchedness, and without principle or hope,he has more than hinted to me, that death itself will be his resourceif I turn him adrift. It was a well-meant officiousness of LadyTowercliffe to force him upon my good offices, and I cannot yet seeany easy way to relieve myself of the charge, without causing moredistress than I can reconcile myself to occasioning."

  "He is certainly a strange, mysterious being," replied Henry, wishingto turn off a subject which he saw was agitating Sir Arthur withperplexity; "but Mr. Howard is not probably the only man on earth whomin the course of my existence I shall not be able to comprehend."