Putting, then, her willing arm within his, he eagerly conducted her down stairs; made her pass by the astonished Ambroise, at whom she nodded and smiled in the fulness of her contentment, and led her towards the beach; her heart exulting, and her eyes glistening with tender joy; even while every nerve was affected, and all her feelings were tortured, by a dread of quick approaching separation and misery.
‘I am come,’ cried he, when they were at a little distance from the houses, ‘to take the most prompt advantage of my brotherly character. I have travelled all night, not to lose a moment in laying my scheme before you.’
‘What kindness! — Oh my lord! — and where did you hear, — where did Sir Jaspar’s letter reach you?’
‘Sir Jaspar? — I have received no letter from Sir Jaspar. I have seen no Sir Jaspar!’
‘How, then, is it possible you can know—’
‘Oh ho! you think you have no friend, then, but Sir Jaspar? And you suppose, perhaps, that you have no admirer but Sir Jaspar?’
‘I am sure, at least, there is no other person to whom I have revealed my name.’
‘Then he must have betrayed it to some other himself, my sweet sister! for ’tis not from him I have had my intelligence. Be less sure, therefore, for the future, of an old man, and trust a younger one more willingly! However, there is no time now for raillery; a messenger is waiting the result of our conference. I am fully informed, my precious sister, of your terrible situation; I will not stop now to execrate your infernal pursuer, though he will not lose my execrations by the delay! I know, too, your sublime resolution to save our dear guardian, — for yours is ours! — that good and reverend Bishop; and to look upon yourself to be tied up, as a bond-woman, till you are formally released form those foul shackles. Do I state the case right?’
‘Oh far, far too acurately! And even now, at a moment so blest! I must tear myself away, — by my own will, with whatever horrour! — from the sweetest of sisters, — from you, my kindest brother! — and from the most benevolent of uncles, by a separation a thousand times more dreadful than any death!’
‘Take comfort, sweet sister! take comfort, loveliest Miss Ellis! — for I can’t help calling you Miss Ellis, now and then, a little while longer: — I have a plan to make you free! to set you completely at liberty, and yet save that excellent Bishop!—’
‘Oh my lord! how heavenly an idea! — but how impossible!’
‘Not at all! ’tis the easiest thing in the world! only hear me. That wretch who claims you, shall have the portion he demands; the six thousand pounds; immediately upon signing your release, sending over the promissory-note of Lord Denmeath, and delivering your noble Bishop into the hands of the person who shall carry over the money; which, however, shall only be paid at some frontier town, whence the Bishop may come instantly hither.’
Struck with rapturous surprize, Juliet scarcely restrained herself form falling at his feet. She pressed his arm, she kissed the edge of his coat, and, while striving, inarticulately, to call for blessings upon his head, burst into a passion of tears, — though tears of ecstatic joy, — that nearly deprived her of respiration.
‘My sister! my dear sister!’ tenderly cried Lord Melbury, ‘how ashamed you make me! Could you, then, expect less? What a poor opinion you have entertained of your poor brother! I give you nothing! I merely agree that you shall possess what is your due. Know you not that you are entitled to thirty thousand pounds from our estate? To the same fortune that has been settled upon Aurora? ’Tis from your own portion, only, my poor sister, that this six thousand will be sunk.’
‘Can you, then, generous, generous Lord Melbury! — can you see thus, without regret, without murmur, so capital a sum suddenly and unexpectedly torn from you?’
‘I have not yet enjoyed it, my dear sister; I shall not, therefore, miss it. But if I had possessed it always, should I not be paid, ten million of times paid, by finding such a new sister? I shall be proud to shew the whole world I know how to prize such a relation. And I will not have them think me such a mere boy, because I am still rather young, as to be at a loss how to act by myself. I shall not, therefore, consult my uncle, for I am determined not to be ruled by him. I will solemnly bind myself to pay your whole fortune the moment I am of age. It is my duty, and my pride, and, at the same time, my delight, to spare your delicacy, as well as my own character, and our dear father’s memory, any process, or any dispute.’
Then, opening his arms, with design to embrace her, but checking himself upon recollecting that he might be observed, he animatedly added, ‘Yes, my dear father! I will shew how I cherish your memory, by my care of your eldest born! by my care of her interests, her safety, and her happiness! — As to her honour,’ he added, with a conscious smile, ‘she has shewn me that she knows how to be its guardian herself!’
The grateful Juliet frankly acknowledged, that both the thought and the wish had frequently occurred to her, of rescuing the Bishop, through her portion, without herself: but she had been utterly powerless to raise it. She was under age, and uncertain whether her rights might ever be proved: and the six thousand pounds proffered by Lord Denmeath, she was well aware, would never be accorded but to establish her as an alien. Her generous brother, by anticipating, as well as confirming her claims, alone could realize such a project. With sensations, then, of unmixed felicity, that seemed lifting her, while yet on earth, into heaven, she was flying to call for the participation of Lady Aurora, and of her uncle, in her joy; when Lord Melbury, stopping her, said, that all was not yet prepared for communication.
‘You clearly,’ he continued, ‘agree to the scheme?’
‘With transport!’ she cried; ‘and with eternal thankfulness!’
Without delay, then, he said, they must appoint a person of trust, who knew the French language well, and to whom the whole history might be confided; to carry over the offer, and the money, and to bring back the Bishop.
‘And I have a friend,’ he continued, ‘now ready for the enterprize. One equally able and willing to claim the Bishop, and to give undoubted security for the six thousand pounds. Can you form any notion who such a man may be?’
He looked at her gaily, yet with a scrutiny that made her blush. One person only could occur to her; but occurred with an alarming sense of impropriety in allowing him such an employment, that instantly damped her high delight. She dropt her eyes; an unrepressed sigh broke from her heart; but secret consciousness hushed all enquiry into the truth of her conjecture.
In silence, too, for a moment, Lord Melbury contemplated her; struck with her sudden sadness, and uncertain to what it might be attributed. Affectionately, then, taking her hand, ‘I must come,’ he cried, ‘to the point, or my messenger will lose his patience. Proposals of marriage the most honourable have been made to me; such, my dear sister, as merit my best interest with you. The person is unexceptionable, high in mind, manners, and family, and has long been attached to you—’
Juliet here, with dignity, interrupted him, ‘My lord, I will not ask who this may be; I even beg not to be told. I can listen to no one! Till the Bishop is released and safe, I hold myself merely to be his hostage; and, till my freedom, atrociously as it has been violated, shall be legally restored to me, I cannot but feel hurt, — for I will not say offended where the intention is so kind, and so pure, — that any proposals of any sort, and from any person, should be addressed to me!’
Lord Melbury, prepared for expostulation, was beginning to reply; but she solemnly besought him not to involve her in any new conflicts.
She then asked his permission to introduce him to her uncle, Admiral Powel; whom she desired to join upon the beach.
No, no; he answered; other business, still more urgent, must have precedence. And, holding both her hands, he insisted upon acquainting, her, that it was Mr Harleigh who had been his informant of her history and situation; and that she was the undoubted and legitimate daughter of Lord Granville; all which he had learnt from Sir Jaspar Herrington. ‘And M
r Harleigh has begged my leave,’ continued his lordship, smiling, ‘though I am not, you may think, perhaps, very old for judging of such matters; to make his addresses to you. — Now don’t put yourself into that flutter till you hear how he arranged it; for he knows all your scruples, and reveres them, — or, rather, and reveres you, my sweet sister! for your scruples we both think a little chimerical: don’t be angry at that; we honour you all the same for having them: and Mr Harleigh seems to adore you only the more. So, I make no doubt does Aurora. And I, too, my dear sister! only I can’t see you sacrificed to them. But Mr Harleigh has found a way to reconcile all perplexities. He will save you, he says, in honour as well as in person; for the wretch shall still have the wife whom he married, if he will restore the Bishop!’
‘What can you mean?’ —
‘His six thousand pounds, my dear sister! That sum, in full, he shall have; for that, as Harleigh says, is the wife that he married!’
Smiles now again, irresistibly, forced their way back to the face of Juliet, as she bowed her full concurrence to this observation.
‘Harleigh, therefore,’ continued Lord Melbury, ‘for this very reason, will go himself to make the arrangement; to the end that, if the wretch refuses to take the six thousand without you, he may offer a thousand, or two, over: for, enraged as he is to enrich such a scoundrel, he would rather endow him with your whole thirty thousand, and, for aught I know, with as much more of his own, than let you fall into his clutches.’
The eyes of Juliet again swam in tears. ‘Noble, incomparable Harleigh!’ she irresistibly ejaculated; but, checking herself, ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘my thanks are still all that I can return to Mr Harleigh, — yet I will not deny how much I am touched by his generosity. But I have insurmountable objections to this proposition; now, indeed, ought I to cast upon any other, the risks of an engagement which honour and conscience make sacred to myself.’
‘Poor Harleigh!’ said Lord Melbury, ‘I have been but a bad advocate, he will think! You will at least see him?’
‘See him?’
‘Yes; he came with me hither. ’Twas he descried you first, as you got out of the post-chaise. He was accompanying me up the stairs: but he retreated. You will surely see him?’
‘No, my Lord, no! — certainly not!’
‘What! not for a moment? Oh, that would be too barbarous!’
With these words, he ran back to the town.
Juliet called after him; but in vain.
Her heart now beat high; it seemed throbbing through her bosom; but she bent her way towards the beach, to secure her safety by joining her uncle.
She perceived him at some distance, in the midst of a small group; conspicuous from his height, his naval air and equipment, and his long spying glass; which he occasionally brandished, as he seemed questioning, or haranguing the people around him.
In a minute, she was accosted by the old sailor, who was sent by his master to the chaise, in which he supposed his niece to be still waiting; to beg that she would not be impatient, because a boat being just come in, with a small handful of the enemy, his honour was giving a look at the vessel, to see to its being wind and weather proof, to the end that her ladyship might take a sail in it.
Juliet, though she answered, ‘Certainly; tell my uncle certainly;’ knew not what she heard, nor what she said; confused by fast approaching footsteps, which told her that she could not, now, either by going on or by turning back, escape meeting Harleigh.
Lord Melbury advanced first; and, willing to give Harleigh a moment to press his suit, good humouredly addressed the sailor, with enquiries of what was going forward upon the beach. Harleigh, having made a bow, which her averted eyes had not seen, drew back, distressed and irresolute, waiting to catch a look that might be his guide. But when, from the discourse of the sailor with Lord Melbury, he learnt the arrival of a small vessel form the Continent, which was destined immediately to return thither; he precipitately took his lordship by the arm, spoke to him a few words apart, and then flew forward to the strand.
Juliet, disturbed by new fears, permitted her countenance to make enquiries which her tongue durst not pronounce; and Lord Melbury, who understood her, frankly said, ‘He is a man, sister, of ten thousand! He will sail a race with you, and strive which shall get in first to save the Bishop!’
Juliet felt thunderstruck; Harleigh seeking a passage in the very vessel which seemed pitched upon by her uncle for her own voyage! That they should go together was not to be thought of; but to suffer him to risk becoming the victim to her promise and her duties, was grief and shame and terrour united! Her eyes affrightedly pursued him, till he entered into the group upon the strand; and her perturbation then was so extreme, that she felt inclined to forfeit, by one dauntless stroke, the delicacy which, as yet, had through life, been the prominent feature of her character, by darting on, openly to conjure him to return. But habits which have been formed upon principle, and embellished by self-approbation, withstand, upon the smallest reflection, every wish, and every feeling that would excite their violation. The idea, therefore, died in its birth; and she sought to compose her disordered spirits, by silent prayers for courage and resignation.
With the most fraternal participation in her palpable distress, Lord Melbury endeavoured to offer her consolation; till the sailor, who had returned to the Admiral, came from him, a second time, to desire that she would hasten upon the beach, ‘to help his honour, please your ladyship,’ said the merry tar, with a significant nod, ‘to a little French lingo; these mounseers and their wives, — if, behaps, they be’n’t only their sweethearts; not over and above understanding his honour.’
Juliet moved slowly on: the Admiral, used to more prompt obedience, came forward to hasten her, calling out, as soon as she was within hearing, ‘Please to wag a little nimbler, niece; for here are some outlandish gentry come over, that speak so fast, one after t’other; or else all at a time; each telling his own story; or, for aught I can make out, each telling the same thing one as t’other; that, though I try my best to understand them, not being willing to dash them, I can’t make out above one word in a dozen, if you take it upon an average, of what they say. However, though it is our duty to hold them all as our native enemies; and I shall never, God willing, see them in any other light; yet it would be but unchristian not to lend them an hand, when they are chopfallen and sorrowful; and, moreover, consumedly out of cash. So if I can help them, I see no reason to the contrary; for my enemy in distress is my friend: because why? I was only his enemy to get the upper hand of him.’
Then, turning to Lord Melbury and Harleigh, ‘I hope,’ he added, ‘you won’t think me wanting to my country, if, for the honour of old England, I give these poor half-starved souls a hearty meal of good roast beef, with a bumper of Dorchester ale, and Devonshire cyder? things which I conclude they have never yet tasted from their births to this hour; their own washy diet of soup meagre and sallad, with which I would not fatten a sparrow, being what they are more naturally born to. And I sha’n’t be sorry, I confess, to shew the French we have a little politeness of our own; which, by what I have often taken note, I rather surmize they hold to be a merchandize of their own monopoly. And so, if you all think well of it, we’ll tack about, and give them an handsome invitation out of hand; for when a person stops to ponder before he does a good office, ’tis a sign he had full as lieve let it alone.’
Juliet readily complied, though she could not readily speak; but what was her perturbation, the next moment, to see Harleigh vehemently break from the group by which he had been surrounded, rush precipitately forward to meet them, and, singling out Lord Melbury encircle his lordship in his arms, exclaiming, ‘My lord! my dear lord! your sister is free! — I claim, now, your suffrage! — Her brutal persecutor, convicted of heading a treasonable conspiracy in his own country, has paid the forfeit of his crimes! These passengers bring the tidings! My lord! my dear lord! your sister is free!’ —
Juliet, who heard, as it was
meant that she should hear, this passionate address, felt suspended in all her faculties. Joy, in the first instant, sought precedence; but it was supplanted, in another moment, by tearful incredulity; and she stood motionless, speechless, scarcely conscious whether she were alive.
An exclamation of ‘What’s all this?’ from the astonished Admiral; and a juvenile jump of unrestrained rapture from the transported Lord Melbury, brought Harleigh to himself. He felt confounded at the publicity and the abruptness of an address into which his ecstacy had surprized him; yet his satisfaction was too high for repentance, though he forced it to submit to some controul.
Suspension of sensibility could not, while there was life, be long allowed to Juliet; and the violence of her emotions, at its return, almost burst her bosom. What a change! her feet tottered; she sustained her shaking frame against the Admiral; she believed herself in some new existence! yet it was not unmixed joy that she experienced; there was something in the nature of her deliverance repulsive to joy; and the perturbed and tumultuous sensations which rushed into her breast, seemed overpowering her strength, and almost shattering even her comprehension; till she was brought back painfully to herself, by an abrupt recollection of the uncertainty of the fate of the Bishop; and, shudderingly, she exclaimed, ‘Oh if my revered guardian be not safe!’ —
The wondering Admiral now, addressing Harleigh, gravely begged to be made acquainted, in plainer words, with the news that he reported.
Not sorry to repeat what he wished should be fully comprehended, Harleigh, more composedly, recounted his intelligence; dwelling upon details which brought conviction of the seizure, the trial, and the execution of the execrable commissary.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 355