CHAPTER XIX.
"Infirm of purpose."--_Macbeth._
"The Earl has deserted us to-night," said Captain de Vere, as he lookedround the smoking-room but missed his brother.
"He has greater attractions in the blue eyes of Miss Ravensworth,--itmust be a strong magnet, nevertheless, that draws away the Earl from hisboon companions," said Sir Richard.
"It is the same story: all lovers are madmen, and our gallant host noexception," said young Scroop. "And by my faith she is a fine girl; nomarvel she attracts the Earl."
"True, Scroop, but he should not desert his old love," said Sir Richard;"because Venus now clasps him in her arms, he should not desertBacchus!"
"In my days Venus and Bacchus ever went hand in hand, but old times arechanged," said the Duke of Richmond.
"D--n love, it makes fools of all good fellows," said the Captain.
"Blaspheme not love," answered Captain Wilson; "we fellows at sea aregreat Philanders when we get ashore."
"And not very particular in your choice," remarked the Captain.
"How did you like the picnic, Captain?"
"I like not these follies much, Arranmore; a wolf or boar hunt, or evena run with the hounds I like, for there is danger, and without danger islittle pleasure. But a picnic is a d--d blind to get a score ofpalefaced lovers and love-sick damsels together. Lord knows how manybrace I sprung in the woods to-day; they were as thick as snipes in themarsh; there was Musgrave and his sweetheart, and Scroop and his; chiefamong offenders the Earl and Ellen Ravensworth; you, I, and L'Estrange,were the only wise men, and one is married, and one would have been afool too, had his lady love wanted him!" answered the Captain, who neverminded how much he hurt people's feelings.
"How did you like the news to-night, L'Estrange?" asked the Marquis.
"The foul fiend blister your tongue for throwing it in my teeth."
"Halloo, my fine game cock, where did you learn to crow so loudly?"asked the Marquis, starting to his feet and upraising his immense form;"were it not I considered you a lover, and therefore, as Scroop said, amadman, I would make you eat your words, and show you you are no matchfor an Irish peer!"
The giant form of the Marquis seemed to dilate with ire as he spoke, andhe looked well capable of putting his threat into execution.
"Well, you are more deeply bitten, L'Estrange, than I thought," said SirRichard.
"The devil take you all for a set of heartless, cold-blooded vipers,"cried L'Estrange, his voice half passionate, and half trembling withagony; "I am mad--God help me," and with these words he sprang from hisseat and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind him. For someseconds every one sat mute.
"_Ecce probatio_," said the Captain, "behold the truth of my saying!There is L'Estrange, once the best of boon fellows, now soured andmaddened, all because a girl he loves won't love him!"
"By Jove, I have baited him a bit," said the Marquis, "but he had betternot quarrel with me."
The Earl's absence, combined now with L'Estrange's, seemed a death blowto the cheer that evening, and one by one the revellers left, till onlythe Marquis, the Captain, and Sir Richard remained behind.
"Our party is neither large, nor merry to-night," said the Marquis.
"Thanks to love! confound it and d--n it. I wonder what makes men suchfools!"
"I shall shorten your number by one," said Lord Arranmore, rising; "Ihear music and dancing above, and this is very dull--if you are wise,you will follow," and so saying he left the room.
Neither of the remaining pair stirred, nor did they speak for more thanan hour--each sipped his toddy in silence; then the Captain rising,said, "Wait here for me, Musgrave; I will go and see what I can make ofL'Estrange, and we can talk over our schemes together."
"All right, I'll wait."
The Captain walked to the door and quitted the room, (leaving the doorwide open for Sir Richard to shut, with an oath at the trouble,) andascending the staircase, walked along the corridor till he came toL'Estrange's room, at which door he stopped, and knocked loudly.
"Who is there?" answered a voice from within in a surly tone.
"It is I."
"Then you can't come in."
"What tomfoolery is this, Ned? Open your door, or by G--d! I will beatyour churlish gate to atoms!" Suiting the action to the word he begankicking at the door in a way that endangered the panels, thick as theywere. Unwilling to allow this, L'Estrange opened the door.
"You are mad, Ned, I think; because you are angry at some foolish gibes,you treat friend and foe alike, and bar your doors on both!"
"Come in, I do not know what I am doing."
Without replying the Captain entered, and shut and locked the doorbehind him.
"You are certainly a d--d fool to care so much about a girl who doesn'tcare that for you," he at length said, snapping his fingers.
"If you are only come to insult my misery you may begone!"
"You are an unreasonable brute to-night," answered the Captain. "I cometo right all, and you treat me like a peevish child who pushes away themedicine that is to do him good! Come, let us talk you to reason over abottle of wine, and light your fire, it is cold and dull;" so saying hestruck his flint and steel, and kindling some tinder set a light to theshavings, and then walked across the room to a cupboard and took out astand of silver with cut glass bottles, containing whisky, brandy, andgin; drawing a table before the fire, he placed the bottles upon it, andseated himself on an arm-chair, lighted his pipe and smoked in silentthought. L'Estrange moodily placed a chair opposite, and seating himselfon it watched the fire. When the fire was burning pretty bright,throwing some dry logs on the blazing flames, the Captain openedconversation with:--
"I hope you see your plans are gone to the devil. I have tried tobolster up the sinking fabric, but it is no use; it must all be pulleddown and a new erection built out of the ruins."
"I think," answered L'Estrange, "there is an unseen power workingagainst us,--it is useless to do more."
"What will you then do?"
"Leave an ungrateful country and a faithless love, and bury myself inthe backwoods of America."
"That were a fool's plan indeed,--by Jove, you are easily castdown,--never say die! if a girl won't love you, make her!"
"That is easier said than done; one man can bring the horse to thewater, ten cannot make it drink."
"A girl is not a horse, nor a mule either, but you are an ass to quotethe proverb. _Your_ plans have gone to mischief; hear _mine_."
For more than a quarter of an hour the Captain then detailed his scheme.During the recital, as on a former occasion in Stacy's cabin, the quickchanges on L'Estrange's face showed the passions within his breast. Whenit was finished, for a moment he sat mute; then rising, said in a hollowvoice:--
"Captain de Vere, I did not know you; you must be leagued with the EvilOne to think of a scheme so heartless,--so diabolical."
"Keep your abuse for those who'll stand it,--I for one won't. I see youare a chicken-hearted fool! If you begin to grow soft, better throw upthe whole,--faint heart never won fair woman yet,--let her marry,--seeher in another's arms! A rare sight for a faithful lover!"
"Speak not of love, you who propose a plan so devilish,--you can neverhave felt it; your love is base, not true passion! I love the girl toowell to harm a ringlet of her hair; I will not agree."
"Base ingrate, hear me. I care not what you do--it is nothing to me whogains your sweetheart. I have striven, worked, plotted for your weal;this is my reward--unqualified abuse. You and your paramour may go tothe devil. I will have no more to do with you--good night."
"Stay," said L'Estrange, as he rose to depart, "oh, stay--forgive me, Imeant not what I said; only give me time to think,--if you knew how Iloved her!"
The Captain resumed his seat. "Listen, L'Estrange," he said, "there isnothing after all to call forth such a storm of abuse; you may make yourown terms."
"Ah! I see it now in a different light,--but her agony--her fright--he
rterror--it would kill her,--no, no! I will not."
"Weak, vacillating, inconsistent as a woman, you must be fixed. Hearken,L'Estrange, you have gone too far now to retract; you did not enlist mefor nothing; this concerns not only you, but me also; it is of paramountimportance to me that Wentworth marries not Ellen; there is but one wayto prevent their union,--it must be done; you are a fool to hesitate."
"You know not what you ask; I cannot acquiesce."
"Then by G-- Almighty, I will bring you to your bearings! Either agreeand be a man, or else refuse, and I at once go to Wentworth and disclosethe treachery."
"It were better,--there needs but this to fill my cup of infamy."
"You are undecided still?"
"Give me time; even the murderer is granted time to make his peace withheaven."
"I am not unreasonable--I will give you five minutes;--there lies mywatch," said the Captain, laying it on the table; "it is now fiveminutes to twelve,--when the clock strikes, your doom is sealed one wayor another."
The most dreadful silence followed this action; you might have heard apin fall. It was worth while to note the different aspect of the two.The Captain's eye, unrelenting and stern, betrayed a high resolve,worthy a better cause; a scornful smile curled his handsome mouth, asthough he despised his weaker victim. L'Estrange's varying passions werechasing one another across his face as the shadows of clouds fleet o'era sunlit field; his countenance was the mirror of his heart,--pity,anguish, despair, unresolve, were all there. One was like the victim,the other the destroyer, and never serpent, tiger, or demon, glaredfiercer on its luckless prey than did Captain de Vere on his captive.Slowly the minutes glided away; till four were past neither spoke. Whenone minute only remained, the Captain said, "One more only now,--is yourmind resolved?"
Speechless agony was in the unhappy man's eye.
"Time is up! What is your answer?" said the Captain, as the clock tolledmidnight.
"I consent."
"That is right! Then you are ready for all. You have been an accursedtime in coming to this! You will, then, begin your part to-morrow."
"To-morrow? So soon? Besides, you have not considered Ellen is no fool;she will require proofs,--you have none."
"Have I not? I had been a fool like thee then," said his tormentor in avoice that banished his last hope, "look here! What do you think ofthat?" taking from his cigar case a warrant with the proper signature.It was the same he had appropriated at Brighton, but was no longerblank.
L'Estrange saw and shuddered. "But to-morrow?"
"What! hesitating again? It is too late now,--to-morrow!"
And without waiting for another word, the speaker rose and left theroom. When he was gone, L'Estrange clasped his hands across hisforehead, as if to hold his brow from breaking; his eyes seemed startingfrom their sockets; his whole frame shook with agitation, his thoughts,oh, Heavens! his thoughts! they were fire. "He spoke too true," mutteredhe from between his clenched teeth, "I have gone too far, it is toolate; I cannot retrace my steps, and, whatever is the result, I must goon and reap my reward. Would God I had never met that heartless, badman!--would God I had had the courage to refuse!--would God I had nevercalled him back! Surely an evil star is ascendant over me. I have gonetoo far; I am like the vessel that once enters the fatal current of theMaelstrom: I shall be slowly but surely drawn in till sunk in thebottomless pit of iniquity, infamy, and despair. And you, gentle Ellen,what will you think? What will be your feelings? What will be yourgrief, your horror? How shall I ever look again in your face? You littleknow what hangs over you. You dream now, haply, of him you love, or,haply, you lie awake and think how happy you will be. It is false. Asnake shall enter your border of flowers. Who is that snake? It is I;false villain! But it shall not be; I will at once go and reveal theblack treachery. I will throw myself at the Earl's feet and confess all!Let him kill me, do what he will--I will have a clean heart." He rose;he walked to the door; his hand was on the bolt,--what deterred him?Pride, false pride! The devil whispered, what will the Captain think?what will Musgrave think? what will they all think? Will they not regardyou as more fickle than a woman--a traitor too--a base ingrate; havethey not worked for you; for you risked everything? The pause wasfatal,--he lifted his hand off the latch, and returned. Oh, how many asoul has been lost by a pause,--the pilgrim has looked back, turnedback, and lost all. That moment L'Estrange felt his good angel take herflight. He did not dream it--he felt it perceptibly, actually _felt_ it.His guardian angel had spoken her last warning, given her last note ofdanger; he had refused to hear; the still small voice of conscience wasdrowned for the last time--it _never_ spoke again. A darkness not ofthis world settled on his soul; a new power took possession of hisheart; the last waning spark of goodness went out. No power, human ordivine, could relight it. While the good spirit dwells in the heart, beit never so faint, never so tremblingly alive, there is hope! When thatspark is quenched, hope is for ever gone,--the unhappy bearer falls fromheaven, "like Lucifer, never to rise again!"
When Captain L'Estrange returned from the door, he was an altered man;his purpose was knit, resolved; nothing could now shake him from it.Still, though everything divine had taken its flight, something humanstill lingered behind; the best of human passions--Love! so nearlyallied to heavenly grace as to be all but divine; rising, like snowymountains, so near, and yet unable to pierce the lofty skies; standingwithout the pale, so near, yet unable to enter the holy of holies. Allheavenly aspirations had died; not so all human. He was still a man,though his soul was consigned to man's great enemy; and as he thought onEllen, his thoughts were unenviable, bitter. There seemed now a greatgulf fixed between them,--she was on the right, he on the left side ofthe throne, and he looked up to her as a fallen angel does to the skywhere once were his destinies, knowing he shall enter its crystal gatesno more. Opening his window, he paced the balcony backwards and forwardsfor an hour or two. The night air was cool, the stars bright--toobright; he could look at them no longer. So he entered his darkened roomagain, and by the fitful glare of the expiring embers disrobed himself,and pressed his pillow. How his head ached! how he tossed on thatunquiet couch! At last sleep, undeserved, sealed his eyes; heslept,--not the unquiet sleep, scared by wild dreams, the soldier sleepsere he enters the battle field, where glory and honour point the way toglorious death; but the deep calm sleep, the mental lethargy, of theconvict on the night before his execution, when contempt and shame pointthe way to an unhallowed grave!
When Captain de Vere left his friend, he strode along the passage, hisclanking footsteps ringing through the arched corridor, disturbing thecalmness of night, and, descending the stairs, opened the door of thesmoking room.
"You have kept me a confounded time," said Sir Richard; "I have almostfinished the bottle."
"It is settled," said the Captain; "he was a difficult leech to fix, avacillating fool; but I brought him to anchor at last, and he will doso. By G--! he gave his word, and retracted, shifted and reshifted; butspite of all his tackings I piloted him to haven at last."
"When does the plot begin to work?"
"To-morrow he plays his part; in a week or ten days you will yours. Andnow good night; it is late, and it would not do to have it suspected wewere intriguing."
So saying the two young men arose and, shaking hands, retired to theirrooms,--the Captain calm and self-possessed, as his unhappy victim wasstormy in mind, and unstable as the hurricane's gusts!
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1 Page 19