CHAPTER VI.
"Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love."--_Moore._
"But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark wave I flew With the marauders; Wild was the life we led, Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled By our stern orders."--_Longfellow._
Captain L'Estrange had proceeded with his troop by slow stages to thePreston barracks, situated a short distance out of Brighton, on theLewes road. His faith in Ellen was still secure, though it had beensomewhat rudely shaken by her singular conduct since the arrival of LordWentworth. He could not but have noticed that a kind of _gene_ hadsprung up between them; but he paid little attention to his mind'ssuggestions, and thought that in a short time all would run smoothagain. With this idea, one of the first things he did after his arrivalwas to write a long and affectionate letter to his betrothed. It waslong, very long ere he received an answer; and when at last it came itwas calculated in no way to alleviate his apprehensions, but consistedchiefly of a very brilliant description of the election ball, LordWentworth's attentions, and also their day at the Towers. L'Estrange wasdeeply annoyed, and in the heat of his excitement wrote an ill-judgedand hasty reply, blaming her for coldness, rallying her about settingher cap at the young peer, and concluding with a remonstrance, tellingher that she was unjustified in allowing any one to share so much of heraffections. Had his evil genius instigated him, he could hardly havebeen urged to a worse course. At once it touched Ellen's pride andhonour, and stirred up all her slumbering dislike to L'Estrange intoactual hatred; and flushed with rage she sat down and wrote an angryletter, in which she told him that she was not the girl to brook suchconduct; that a passion, never very strong in her, had long beenlessening; that his letter had smothered the last spark!--she nowconsidered herself free as air, and he might do the same; if that was aprelude to their future married life, she thanked heaven it had not cometoo late: and in conclusion begged all communication might for evercease between them. In an agony of rage and despair, L'Estrange threwthe fatal epistle behind the fire: he saw he had gone too far, andresolved, if possible, to turn the tide. But it was to no purpose he nowpenned an apology; it was too late to urge his expiring suit--too lateto beseech her to forgive and forget all; the bird was free! andrejoicing in her newly-acquired freedom, was in no hurry to become againa captive. He only received a cold and polite note, saying her refusalwas final, and the more he burned the colder would her bosom grow.
It was not only L'Estrange's love, which was really great, but his pridethat now suffered. He had boasted to his fellow-officers of hisbeautiful fiancee--he had even shown them her miniature; he had heardthem praise it and call him a lucky fellow; he had pictured to himselfthe pride with which he would introduce his elegant partner; he hadspoken of their union as a thing fixed and certain;--and now to bespurned, jilted by her thus, because a young lord was showing herattention!--the thought was maddening; and in his wrath he swore eternalhatred to the false fair one, and eternal, dreadful vengeance on him whohad stolen her heart! He hoped that she might yet have mistaken herobject--that the Earl's attentions were mere flirtations; but on makinginquiry he daily learned that the worst results were to be feared, andhe now began to devise means to frustrate them. His whole characterseemed changed. Instead of the gay, lighthearted man he used to be, hebecame silent, morose, vindictive; and his fellow-officers, havinglearned the reason, looked forward in anticipation to some dreadfulcatastrophe.
Before proceeding further, however, as Edward L'Estrange is to play amost conspicuous part in this story, a few details of his early life maynot be wholly uninteresting.
Shrouded in the deepest mystery was Edward L'Estrange's infancy. Hisfirst recollections were of a dark and romantic kind, and went to a timewhen, with a young man of fiendish character, he sailed the Spanish mainin a fast schooner with raking masts, and terribly black teeth! Thecaptain of this ship--the young man we have already alluded to--was halfa pirate, half a smuggler, and one of the fiercest and most sanguinarymonsters that ever disgraced the annals of the sea. In this life ofwildness and iniquity the first eight years of L'Estrange's life passedaway. Brought up from infancy to be acquainted with revolting scenes ofmurder and debauchery, and taught to lisp oaths ere he could speakplainly, he was however snatched from an existence of crime before hisheart was utterly hardened. One evening--or rather late in theafternoon--as the Black Mail was running under a press of canvas for theisland of Cuba a British frigate hove in sight which, as soon as sheascertained the character of the schooner, immediately gave chase. Abrisk wind swelled out the sails of both ships, and they seemed ratherto fly than sail over the waves. In an hour it became however manifestlyevident that the man-of-war was slowly but surely bearing down on herfoe, and had already shortened the distance between them from five milesto barely three. The pirate crowded on all sail, hoping, if she couldprolong the chase till darkness came, she might yet give her pursuer awide berth. With anxious face did her skipper watch the globe of lightsinking gradually into the ocean's embrace, and with loud oathsanathematized the faithless wind lessening every minute; and what wasmore provoking was the fact that the frigate from her superior height ofmasts caught the expiring breeze long after he lost it, and he had themortification of seeing his enemy keep on till within a quarter of amile of him, whilst his ship "lay idle as a painted ship upon a paintedocean." Still an hour of light remained. He now ordered his hands toarm, and prepare to die like men, neither giving nor taking quarter. Upran the black flag, and simultaneously each vessel poured a broadside ofgrape upon her antagonist. For half an hour the deadly shower was hailed"fast and well" until the schooner had lost both masts, and wasgradually settling down in the deep. The English man-of-war then sentout three boats to board the pirate, which they succeeded in doing,despite the deadly resistance of the desperadoes, who, knowing that noquarter would be given, were determined to sell their lives dearly. Handto hand was the combat continued with cutlasses till the whole of thepirates were either killed or overpowered. At that moment the schoonerbegan to sink into the waters, bow foremost, scarcely giving the victorstime to regain their boats with one prisoner, a boy of nine, who hadfought like a born fiend, and so ferocious was his resistance that evenafter he had been made captive, they had to put him in irons. In time,however, kindness overcame ferocity, and the young pirate grew the petof the whole crew of the Arethusa, especially the captain's, who adoptedhim for his own son, and gave him the name we now know him by--EdwardL'Estrange--his own name. After cruising for some time he was broughthome to England, where his guardian gave him a liberal education, andwhen he died,--which was not before he had seen the foundling an officerin the king's army,--he left all the property to which he had succeededentirely to Edward L'Estrange. The young savage changed to the dauntlesssoldier, though we are not prepared to say how much his evil bringing upinfluenced his future career, but will leave the reader to judge forhimself.
Young L'Estrange, whilst serving with his regiment in America, becameintimate with an officer quartered in the same garrison, named GeorgeRavensworth; intimacy strengthened into the closest friendship, and thetwo young men were like brothers till death severed the bond, andL'Estrange had the grief of attending the deathbed of his friend,following his cold remains to the grave, and hearing the volley firedover his tomb! A few sad relics--the young soldier's sword, his watch,and his Bible--were entrusted to him by his friend to carry home to hisbereaved family.
An early opportunity of doing this was offered to L'Estrange by hisexchange into a regiment ordered home, and he hastened to Edinburgh tofulfil his errand. When he presented himself at Seaview only EllenRavensworth was at home, and to her the young officer confided the sadrelics of her brother, and his dear and lamented friend. It was the mostnatural thing in the world that L'Estrange's affections should betransferred to the sister of one so dear. She was young and attractive,and long after his first interview did the vision of the fair g
irl inthe garb of woe which so well becomes that style of beauty, cling to hismemory. An acquaintance so romantically begun soon ripened intoaffection, and deep love not only to Ellen, but the whole family. Theywere all much interested in his strange early history, and as it suitedEllen's turn of mind she allowed her lover to engross her affections.Edward L'Estrange was possessed of an ample fortune, and Mr. Ravensworthsaw nothing to hinder their union when Ellen was a year or two older,and time had robbed their grief at George's death of its firstpoignancy.
During the next year or more from the circumstance of his regiment beingquartered at Piershill he had full opportunity of seeing his sweetheart,in fact had grown like one of the family; and strange to say wasregarded rather in this light by Ellen than as a lover--for to do thegirl justice she loved him really as a brother only. Being considerablyolder than Ellen she looked up to him rather than mingled her mind withhis; there was something too about him which, while it forcedadmiration, ay, and even love, repelled it too. That love was mingledwith fear, with restraint, and became a duty rather than a pleasure, andwhile she told him with her lips she loved, her heart within denied it.Long engagements are known to be the worst things in the world,--hopedeferred sickens the heart, the flame of love burns lower and lower, andthen let some rival appear, and the last spark is extinguished! It wouldbe vain, and useless as vain, to strive to trace back to its source thefirst declination--the earliest seeds of that fatal upas tree whichstrengthened and grew, till its baneful shadow destroyed the veryvitality of love! "A word unkind or wrongly taken" the poet has averredto be often the first symptom of decline, and he then adds--
"Ruder words will yet rush in To spread the breach that words begin!"
Perhaps such were the germs of the hatred--shall we say the word, but itis true?--that had now sprung up between the lovers. L'Estrange sworeeternal hatred to whom? Ellen! He swore vengeance on whom? LordWentworth!
His first thought was to proceed at once to the Towers and challengeLord Wentworth to mortal combat. His second to strive and prevent theirunion by subtle and well-laid schemes. Second thoughts are best. If hefought the Earl, one of them would certainly fall. Supposing he did! Hislife was now hateful. He did not care--it might be relief! But then thatwould not prevent Ellen's being united to his foe. She would forgethim--be happy--be loved--be rich--the thought was hell!
Again, supposing he killed his antagonist--she would perhaps die ofgrief--die cursing him! that would be sweet revenge, but she would notbe his any the more; he loved her still, despite his vow: he mustpossess her, or die! For his second thoughts, if he could prevent theirunion,--if he could so manage that the Earl married another,--if hecould get Ellen to forget, to cease to admire him,--the vanishing sparkof love might yet be fanned bright and glowing as it was of yore; shemight yet love him again,--she might yet be his bride--his own, hisbeautiful Ellen! Yes, this was his plan, and she was once morebeloved--his vow of endless hatred forgotten! But how was he to effecthis purpose? His plot was good, how was it to be carried out? He knewthe noble family, but could not presume on his acquaintance. He was afriend of the Captain's, and a bright thought struck him. He wouldenlist the Captain on his side! He knew him to be a bad man--a deist,or the next thing to it--a hard drinker--a bold blasphemer--'game,' ashe said, for anything, however wild.
The last thing in the world the Captain would like was his brother'smarriage, as he had contracted vast debts on the presumption of hissucceeding to the coronet; but the difficulty was how he could make theplot palatable to this bad man, for unless he was to benefit he knewvery well the Captain would first "see him and his plans at the devil!"And one like this, where neither woman nor gold fell to his share, hewould never enter into. Could he get some hold over theCaptain--something that compromised his liberty, or life--he might havea chance, was his next thought. He knew there was many a crime thatcould be laid at his door, but woe to the rash fool who dared to do so.There was not such a duellist in the kingdom, and the Captain would callhis accuser out and kill him. No, this would never do, and L'Estrangedetermined to seek sager advice than his own; he therefore resolved togo at once to a strange character who lived near Brighton, WilliamStacy, or as he was more commonly known--"Dare Devil Bill."
Bill Stacy lived in a lonely house situated between Brighton andShoreham, and there practised all sorts of illicit trades. Rumourreported Bill to have been a pirate in his younger days, but if any onewished his legacy of six feet of earth, he had only to inquire from Billthe antecedents of his mysterious life. Old Stacy had a reputed daughternamed Antonia, quite a belle in the Spanish way. She had an arch, gipsylook in her large black eye; and her jetty hair, white teeth, and thedamask colour which tinged her olive cheek made her quite irresistible.Many an eye had paid the homage of speechless admiration to thedark-eyed beauty, many a heartache had she caused to the dashing youngofficers of the 7th, but few had the hardiness to do more than glance ather face for fear of her father, the old dragon who guarded her bower,and since the day Bill had nigh murdered a young Viscount who had daredkiss her hand, her admirers stood afar off, nor tempted another volleyof his ire.
Perhaps my readers may wonder how L'Estrange had become acquainted withsuch a wild, bad character as Bill. It is enough to say for the presentthat he had become acquainted, and that a peculiar tie seemed to existbetween them. In fact, old Stacy had told L'Estrange as much as to leadhim to suppose he, and he only, could unravel some of the mystery thatclung to his early life. But he knew Bill's desperate character too wellto pry into any of his secrets, and, since he had been threatened withstrangulation for once trying to sift matters, thought it best to allowthe old sinner to take his own time. Stacy supplied him, in common withothers, with tobacco and spirits never christened in a custom-house,duty-free,--indeed he made no secret of his trade, and it was thoughtthe excise officers winked at these illegal practices, and the old manmade it worth their while to hold their information secret. Late as itwas--now past midnight--L'Estrange prepared to look up this villain,generally easiest found at his own hour of darkness. He thereforeordered his servant to saddle a horse, and accompany him to within ashort distance of the smuggler's nest. Pat Malony, his orderly,proceeded to do so, wondering what his master was up to at such a latehour. In those days the discipline of the cavalry was less rigorous thannow, and L'Estrange passed unchallenged through the gates, and proceededat a slow trot along the frozen road westward towards Hove, which hepassed, and then quickened his pace till he came within a mile of theNest, as Stacy's house was called. Here he dismounted, ordered Pat totake care of his horse, and wait till he came back again. Pat lit hispipe, inwardly cursing the freak that left him a sentinel on such anight, and wondering "what the divil dacent folk wanted at this hour ofnight in a place, if report said true, anything but honest!" MeanwhileL'Estrange ran downwards to the shore over a wild bleak common, till hecame to a low-roofed, evil-looking house. A light burning in one windowshowed the inmates were awake, and with a full heart he approached thelonely dwelling. As he neared the door, he thought he heard laughter andloud talking once or twice; however, undeterred by this not unusualnoise, he stood in another moment before the door, and with his ridingwhip's handle made three or four masonic taps. A loud, hoarse oath wasthe answer, and he heard footsteps approaching the door from the inside.While he is waiting for admission, we must again take the licence allnovel writers are allowed, and shift the scene once more to the Towers.The reason for this interruption will, we hope, be sufficientlyexplained by the next chapter.
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1 Page 6