But for one sentence in it, I should most assuredly have answered thiscruel letter by instantly resigning my situation as Lucilla's companion.
The sentence to which I refer, contained the words which cast in my teeththe excuses that I had made for Oscar's absence. The sarcastic referenceto my recent connection with a case of emergency, and to my experience ofthe necessity of dispensing with formal farewells, removed my lastlingering doubts of Nugent's treachery. I now felt, not suspicion only,but positive conviction that he had communicated with her in hisbrother's name, and that he had contrived (by some means at which it wasimpossible for me to guess) so to work on Lucilla's mind--so to excitethat indwelling distrust which her blindness had rooted in hercharacter--as to destroy her confidence in me for the time being.
Arriving at this conclusion, I could still feel compassionately andgenerously towards Lucilla. Far from blaming my poor deludedsister-friend for her cruel departure and her yet crueler letter, I laidthe whole fault on the shoulders of Nugent. Full as my mind was of my owntroubles, I could still think of the danger that threatened Lucilla, andof the wrong that Oscar had suffered. I could still feel the old glow ofmy resolution to bring them together again, and still remember (anddetermine to pay) the debt I owed to Nugent Dubourg.
In the turn things had taken, and with the short time still at mydisposal, what was I to do next? Assuming that Miss Batchford wouldaccompany her niece to Ramsgate, how could I put the necessary obstaclein Nugent's way, if he attempted to communicate with Lucilla at thesea-side, in my absence?
It was impossible for me to decide this, unless I first knew whether MissBatchford, as a member of the family, was to be confidentially informedof the sad position in which Oscar and Lucilla now stood towards eachother.
The person to consult in this difficulty was the rector. As head of thehousehold, and in my absence, the responsibility evidently rested withReverend Finch.
I went round at once to the other side of the house. If Mr. Finch hadreturned to the rectory, after the catechizing was over, well and good.If not, I should be obliged to inquire in the village and seek him at thecottages of his parishioners. His magnificent voice relieved me from allanxiety on this head. The _boom-boom_ which I had last heard in thechurch, I now heard again in the study.
When I entered the room, Mr. Finch was on his legs, highly excited;haranguing Mrs. Finch and the baby, ensconced as usual in a corner. Myappearance on the scene diverted his flow of language, for the moment, sothat it all poured itself out on my unlucky self. (If you recollect thatthe rector and Lucilla's aunt had been, from time immemorial, on theworst of terms--you will be prepared for what is coming. If you haveforgotten this, look back at my sixth chapter and refresh your memory.)
"The very person I was going to send for!" said the Pope of Dimchurch."Don't excite Mrs. Finch! Don't speak to Mrs. Finch! You shall hear whydirectly. Address yourself exclusively to Me. Be calm, Madame Pratolungo!you don't know what has happened. I am here to tell you."
I ventured to stop him: mentioning that Lucilla's letter had informed meof his daughter's sudden departure for her aunt's house. Mr. Finch wavedaway my answer with his hand, as something too infinitely unimportant tobe worthy of a moment's notice.
"Yes! yes! yes!" he said. "You have a superficial acquaintance with thefacts. But you are far from being aware of what my daughter's suddenremoval of herself from my roof really means. Now don't be frightened,Madame Pratolungo! and don't excite Mrs. Finch! (How are you, my dear?how is the child? Both well? Thanks to an overruling Providence, bothwell.) Now, Madame Pratolungo, attend to this. My daughter's flight--Isay flight advisedly: it is nothing less--my daughter's flight from myhouse means (I entreat you to be calm!)--means ANOTHER BLOW dealt at meby the family of my first wife. Dealt at me," repeated Mr. Finch; heatinghimself with the recollection of his old feud with the Batchfords--"Dealtat me by Miss Batchford (by Lucilla's aunt, Madame Pratolungo) through myunoffending second wife, and my innocent child.--Are you sure you arewell, my dear? are you sure the infant is well? ThankProvidence!--Concentrate your attention, Madame Pratolungo! Yourattention is wandering. Prompted by Miss Batchford, my daughter has leftmy roof. Ramsgate is a mere excuse. And how has she left it? Not onlywithout first seeing Me--I am Nobody! but without showing the slightestsympathy for Mrs. Finch's maternal situation. Attired in her travelingcostume, my daughter precipitately entered (or to use my wife's graphicexpression 'bounced into') the nursery, while Mrs. Finch wasadministering maternal sustenance to the infant. Under circumstanceswhich might have touched the heart of a bandit or a savage, my unnaturaldaughter (remind me, Mrs. Finch; we will have a little Shakespeareto-night; I will read _King Lear_), my unnatural daughter announcedwithout one word of preparation that a domestic affliction would preventyou from accompanying her to Ramsgate.--Grieved, dear Madame Pratolungo,to hear of it. Cast your burden on Providence. Bear up, Mrs. Finch; bearup--Having startled my wife with this harrowing news, my daughter nextshocked her by declaring that she was going to leave her father's roof,without waiting to bid her father good-bye. The catching of a train, youwill observe, was (no doubt at Miss Batchford's instigation) of moreimportance than the parental embrace or the pastoral blessing. Leaving amessage of apology for Me, my heartless child (I use Mrs. Finch's graphiclanguage again--you have fair, very fair powers of expression, Mrs.Finch)--my heartless child 'bounced out' of the nursery to catch hertrain; having, for all she knew, or cared, administered a shock to mywife which might have soured the fountain of maternal sustenance at itssource. There is where the Blow falls, Madame Pratolungo! How do I knowthat acid disturbance is not being communicated at this moment, insteadof wholesome nourishment, between mother and child? I shall prepare youan alkaline draught, Mrs. Finch, to be taken after meals. Don't speak;don't move! Give me your pulse. I hold Miss Batchford accountable, MadamePratolungo, for whatever happens--my daughter is a mere instrument in thehands of my first wife's family. Give me your pulse, Mrs. Finch. I don'tlike your pulse. Come up-stairs directly. A recumbent position, andanother warm bath--under Providence, Madame Pratolungo!--may parry theBlow. Would you kindly open the door, and pick up Mrs. Finch'shandkerchief? Never mind the novel--the handkerchief."
I seized my first opportunity of speaking again, while Mr. Finch wasconducting his wife (with his arm round her waist) to the door--puttingthe question which I had been waiting to ask, in this cautious form:
"Do you propose to communicate, sir, either with your daughter or withMiss Batchford, while Lucilla is away from the rectory? My object inventuring to ask----"
Before I could state my object, Mr. Finch turned round (turning Mrs.Finch with him) and surveyed me from head to foot with a look ofindignant astonishment.
"Is it possible you can see this double Wreck," said Mr. Finch,indicating his wife and child, "and suppose that I would communicate orsanction communication of any sort, with the persons who are responsiblefor it?--My dear! Can you account for Madame Pratolungo's extraordinaryquestion? Am I to understand (do _you_ understand) that Madame Pratolungois insulting me?"
It was useless to try to explain myself. It was useless for Mrs. Finch(who had made several abortive efforts to put in a word or two, on herown part) to attempt to pacify her husband. All the poor damp lady coulddo was to beg me to write to her from foreign parts. "I'm sorry you're introuble; and I should really be glad to hear from you." Mrs. Finch hadbarely time to say those kind words--before the rector, in a voice ofthunder, desired me to look at "that double Wreck, and respect it if Idid not respect _him_"--and with that walked himself, his wife, and hisbaby out of the room.
Having gained the object which had brought me into the study, I made noattempt to detain him. The little sense the man possessed at the best oftimes, was completely upset by the shock which Lucilla's abrupt departurehad inflicted on his high opinion of his own importance. That he wouldend in being reconciled to his daughter--before her next subscription tothe household expenses fell due--was a matter of downright certainty.But, u
ntil that time came, I felt equally sure that he would vindicatehis outraged dignity by declining to hold any communication, in person orin writing, with Ramsgate. During the short term of my absence fromEngland, Miss Batchford would be left as ignorant of her niece's perilousposition between the twin-brothers, as Lucilla herself. To know this wasto have gained the information that I wanted. Nothing was left but to setmy brains to work at once, and act on it.
How was I to act on it?
On the spur of the moment, I could see but one way. If Grosse pronouncedLucilla's recovery to be complete, before I returned from abroad, thebest thing I could do would be to put Miss Batchford in a position toreveal the truth in my place--without running any risk of a prematurediscovery. In other words, without letting the old lady into the secret,before the time arrived at which it could be safely divulged.
This apparently intricate difficulty was easily overcome, by writing twoletters (before I went away) instead of one.
The first letter I addressed to Lucilla. Without any reference to herbehavior to me, I stated, in the fullest detail and with all needfuldelicacy, her position between Oscar and Nugent: and referred her forproof of the truth of my assertions to her relatives at the rectory. "Ileave it entirely to your discretion" (I added) "to write me an answer ornot. Put the warning which I now give you to the proof; and if you wonderwhy it has been so long delayed, apply to Herr Grosse on whom the wholeresponsibility rests." There I ended; being resolved, after the wrongthat Lucilla had inflicted on me, to leave my justification to facts. Iconfess I was too deeply wounded by her conduct--though I _did_ lay allthe blame of it on Nugent--to care to say a word in my own defence.
This letter sealed, I wrote next to Lucilla's aunt.
It was not an easy matter to address Miss Batchford. The contempt withwhich she regarded Mr. Finch's opinions in politics and religion, wasmore than matched by the strong aversion which she felt for my republicanopinions. I have already mentioned, far back in these pages, that adispute on politics between the Tory old lady and myself ended in aquarrel between us, which closed the doors of her house on me from thattime forth. Knowing this, I ventured on writing to her nevertheless,because I also knew Miss Batchford to be (apart from her furiousprejudices) a gentlewoman in the best sense of the word; devotedlyattached to her niece, and quite as capable, when that devotion wasappealed to, of doing justice to me (apart from _my_ furious prejudices)as I was of doing justice to her. Writing in a tone of unaffectedrespect, and appealing to her forbearance to encourage mine, I requestedher to hand my letter to Lucilla on the day when the surgeon reportedthat all further necessity for his attendance had ceased. In the intervalbefore this happened, I entreated Miss Batchford, in her niece'sinterests, to consider my letter as a strictly private communication;adding, that my sufficient reason for venturing to make this conditionwould be found in my letter to Lucilla--which I authorized her aunt toread as soon as the time had arrived for opening it.
By this means I had, as I firmly believed, taken the only possible way ofpreventing Nugent Dubourg from doing any serious mischief in my absence.
Whatever his uncontrolled infatuation for Lucilla might lead him to donext, he could proceed to no serious extremities until Grosse pronouncedher recovery to be complete. On the day when Grosse did that, she wouldreceive my letter, and would discover for herself the abominabledeception which had been practiced on her. As to attempting to findNugent, no idea of doing this entered my mind. Wherever he might be, athome or abroad, it would be equally useless to appeal to his honor again.It would be degrading myself to speak to him or to trust him. To exposehim to Lucilla the moment it became possible was the one thing to bedone. I was ready with my letters, one enclosed in the other, when goodMr. Gootheridge (with whom I had arranged previously) called to drive meto Brighton in his light cart. The chaise which he had for hire had beenalready used to make the same journey by Lucilla and the nurse, and hadnot yet been returned to the inn. I reached my train before the hour ofstarting, and arrived in London with a sufficient margin of time tospare.
Resolved to make sure that no possible mischance could occur, I drove toMiss Batchford's house, and saw the cabman give my letter into theservant's hands.
It was a bitter moment when I found myself pulling down my veil, in thefear that Lucilla might be at the window and see me! Nobody was visiblebut the man who answered the door. If pen, ink, and paper had been withinmy reach at the moment, I think I should have written to her on my ownaccount, after all! As it was, I could only forgive her the injury shehad done me. From the bottom of my heart, I forgave her, and longed forthe blessed time which should unite us again. In the meanwhile, havingdone everything that I could to guard and help her, I was now free togive to Oscar all the thoughts that I could spare from my poor misguidedfather.
Being bound for the Continent, I determined (though the chances were ahundred to one against me) to do all that I could, in my painfulposition, to discover the place of Oscar's retreat. The weary hours ofsuspense at my father's bedside would be lightened to me, if I could feelthat the search for the lost man was being carried on at my instigation,and that from day to day there was a bare possibility of my hearing ofhim, if there was no more.
The office of the lawyer whom I had consulted during my previous visit toLondon, lay in my way to the terminus. I drove there next, and wasfortunate enough to find him still at business.
No tidings had yet been heard of Oscar. The lawyer, however, proved to beuseful by giving me a letter of introduction to a person at Marseilles,accustomed to conduct difficult confidential inquiries, and having agentswhom he could employ in all the great cities of Europe. A man of Oscar'sstartling personal appearance would be surely more or less easy to trace,if the right machinery to do it could only be set at work. My savingswould suffice for this purpose to a certain extent--and to that extent Iresolved that they should be used when I reached my journey's end.
It was a troubled sea on the channel passage that night. I remained ondeck; accepting any inconvenience rather than descend into the atmosphereof the cabin. As I looked out to sea on one side and on the other, thedark waste of tossing waters seemed to be the fit and dreary type of thedark prospect that was before me. On the trackless path that we wereploughing, a faint misty moonlight shed its doubtful ray. Like thedoubtful light of hope, faintly flickering on my mind when I thought ofthe coming time!
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