“Be it as you will in this instance,” returned Ellen. “Mrs. Wentworth shall accompany me—I can rely upon her.”
She then rang the bell.
“What do you require, Ellen?” asked Greenwood, alarmed by this movement on her part.
“Merely to ensure the presence of one of your servants, as I pass from this spot to the door of the room,” replied Ellen. “You can give him some order to avert suspicion.”
Filippo made his appearance; and Ellen then took leave of Mr. Greenwood, as if nothing peculiar had occurred between them.
Oh! with what joy—with what fervid, intoxicating joy—did she return to Markham Place! She had subdued him whose cold, calculating, selfish heart was hitherto unacquainted with honourable concessions;—she had conquered him—reduced him to submit to her terms—imposed her own conditions!
Never—never before had she embraced her child with such pride—such undiluted happiness as on that evening. And never had she herself appeared more beautiful—more enchantingly lovely! Her lips were wreathed in smiles—her eyes beamed with the transports of hope, triumph, and maternal affection—a glow of ineffable bliss animated her countenance—her swelling bosom heaved with rapture.
“You are very late, my dear child,” said Mr. Monroe, when she took her seat at the tea-table: “I began to grow uneasy.”
“I was detained a long time at the office of your debtor,” answered Ellen. “To-morrow morning I intend to pay a visit to Mrs. Wentworth, and shall invite myself to breakfast with her. So you need not be surprised, dear father,” she added, with a sweet smile, “if I do not make my appearance at your table.”
“You please me in pleasing yourself, dear Ellen. Moreover, I am delighted that you should cultivate Mrs. Wentworth’s acquaintance. Most sincerely do I hope,” continued Mr. Monroe, “that we shall have letters from Richard to-morrow. The communications which we have already received are not satisfactory to my mind. God grant that he may be by this time safe in Naples—if not on his way to England.”
“Alas! the enterprise has been a most unfortunate one for him!” returned Ellen, a cloud passing over her countenance. “I understand his noble disposition so well, that I am convinced he deeply feels the defeat of Ossore.”
We must observe that the news of our hero’s success at Estella had not yet reached England.
“It will be a happy day for us all,” said Mr. Monroe, after a pause, “when Richard once more sets foot in his own home—for I love him as if he were my son.”
“And I as if he were my brother,” added Ellen; “yes—my brother,” she repeated, with strange emphasis upon these words.
* * * * *
On the following morning, a few minutes before ten o’clock a post-chaise stopped at the gate of the parish church of Hackney; and Mr. Greenwood alighted.
He was pale; and the quivering of his lip denoted the agitation of his mind.
The clock was striking ten, when a hackney-coach reached the same point.
Greenwood hastened to the door, and assisted Mrs. Wentworth and Ellen Monroe to descend the steps.
As he handed out the latter, he said, in a hurried whisper, “You have the pocket-book with you?”
“I have,” answered Ellen.
The party then proceeded to the church, the drivers of the vehicles being directed to await their return at a little distance, so as not to attract the notice of the inhabitants.
The clergyman and the clerk awaited the arrival of the nuptial party.
The ceremony commenced—proceeded—and terminated.
Ellen was now a wife!
Her husband imprinted a kiss upon her pale forehead; and at the same moment she handed him the pocket-book.
In a few minutes the marriage-certificate was in her possession.
Drawing her husband aside, she said, “Let me now implore you—for your own sake—for the sake of your child—if not for mine—to abstain from those courses——”
“Ellen,” interrupted Greenwood, “do not alarm yourself on that head. My friend the Marquis of Holmesford lent me ten thousand pounds last evening; and with that sum I will retrieve my falling fortunes. Yes—you shall yet bear a great name. Ellen,” he added, his countenance lighting up with animation; “a name that shall go down to posterity! But, tell me—has your father received any tidings from Richard?”
“None since those of which I wrote to you. We are not yet aware whether he be in safety, or not.”
“You will write to me the moment you receive any fresh communication?”
“Rest assured that I shall not forget that duty.”
“And now, Ellen, we must pass the day together. We will spend our honeymoon of twenty-four hours at Richmond. Mrs. Wentworth can return home, and send word to your father that she means to keep you with her until to-morrow morning,”
“If you command me, it is my duty to obey,” replied Ellen.
“I do—I do,” answered Greenwood, earnestly. “You are now mine—the circumstances which led to our union shall be forgotten—and I shall think of you only as my beautiful wife.”
“Oh! if this be really true!” murmured Ellen, pressing his hand fervently, and regarding him with affection—for he was the father of her child!
“It is true,” answered Greenwood;—but his bride perceived not how much of sensual passion prompted him on the present occasion. “I know that you have been faithful to me—that the hope of one day becoming my wife has swayed your conduct. Of that I have had proofs.”
“Proofs!” repeated Ellen, with mingled surprise and joy.
“Yes—proofs. Do you not remember the Greek Brigand at the masquerade, where you met and so justly upbraided that canting hypocrite, Reginald Tracy?”
“I do. But that Greek Brigand——”
“Was myself!” replied Greenwood.
“You!” exclaimed Ellen, with a smile of satisfaction.
“Yes: and I overheard every sentence you uttered. But we may not tarry here longer: speak to Mrs. Wentworth, that she send a proper excuse to your father; and let us depart.”
Ellen hastened to the vestry where the surgeon’s wife was seated near a cheerful fire; and the arrangement desired by Greenwood was soon made.
The party then proceeded to the vehicles.
Mrs. Wentworth bade the newly-married couple adieu, having faithfully promised to retain their secret inviolate; and Greenwood handed her into the hackney-coach.
He and Ellen entered the post-chaise; and while the surgeon’s wife retraced her way to her own abode, the bride and bridegroom hastened to Richmond.
CHAPTER CLXXXVIII.
THE BATTLES OF PIACERE AND ABRANTANI.
We must now request our readers to accompany us once more to Castelcicala.
In an incredibly short time, and by dint of a forced march which put the mettle of his troops to a severe test,—at which, however, they did not repine, for they were animated by the dauntless courage and perseverance of their commander—Richard Markham arrived beneath the walls of Villabella.
During his progress towards the town, he had been joined by upwards of four hundred volunteers, all belonging to the national militia, and armed and equipped ready for active service.
The daring exploit which had made him master of Estella, had created an enthusiasm in his favour which he himself and all his followers considered to be an augury of the final success of the Constitutional Cause; and in every village—in every hamlet through which his army had passed, was he welcomed with the most lively demonstration of joy.
When, early on the morning of the 1st of January, his advanced guard emerged from the woods which skirted the southern suburb of Villabella, the arrival of the Constitutional Army was saluted by the roar of artillery from the ramparts; and almost at the same mo
ment the tri-coloured flag was hoisted on every pinnacle and every tower of the great manufacturing town.
“We have none but friends there!” exclaimed Richard, as he pointed towards Villabella. “God grant that we may have no blood to shed elsewhere.”
The army halted beneath the walls of Villabella, for Richard did not deem it proper to enter those precincts until formally invited to do so by the corporation.
He, however, immediately despatched a messenger to the mayor, with certain credentials which had been supplied him by the Committee of Administration at Estella; and in the course of an hour the municipal authorities of Villabella came forth in procession to welcome him.
The mayor was a venerable man of eighty years of age, but with unimpaired intellects, and a mind still young and vigorous.
Alighting from his horse, Richard hastened forward to meet him.
“Let me embrace you, noble young man!” exclaimed the mayor. “Your fame has preceded you—and within those walls,” he added, turning and pointing towards Villabella, “there breathes not a soul opposed to the sacred cause which heaven has sent you to direct.”
Then the mayor embraced Richard in presence of the corporation—in presence of the Constitutional Army; and the welkin rang with shouts of enthusiastic joy.
The formal invitation to enter Villabella was now given; and Markham issued the necessary orders.
The corporation led the way: next came the General, attended by his staff; and after him proceeded the long lines of troops, their martial weapons gleaming in the morning sun.
The moment our hero passed the inner drawbridge, the roar of cannon was renewed upon the ramparts; and the bells in all the towers commenced a merry peal.
As at Estella, the windows were thronged with faces—the streets were crowded with spectators—and every testimonial of an enthusiastic welcome awaited the champion of Constitutional Liberty.
Then resounded, too, myriads of voices, exclaiming. “Long live Alberto!”—“Long live the General!”—“Down with the Tyrant!”—“Death to the Austrians!”
In this manner the corporation, Markham, and his staff, proceeded to the Town-Hall, while the troops defiled off to the barracks, where the garrison—a thousand in number—welcomed them as brethren-in-arms.
All the officers of the troops in Villabella, moreover—with the exception of the colonel-commandant,—declared in favour of the Constitutionalists; and even that superior functionary manifested no particular hostility to the movement, but simply declared that “although he could never again bear arms in favour of the Grand Duke, he would not fight against him.”
When he had transacted business at the Town-Hall, and countersigned a proclamation which the municipality drew up, recognising the Committee of Administration of Estella, and constituting itself a permanent body invested with similar functions,—Markham repaired to the barracks.
Thence he immediately despatched couriers to the excellent banker at Pinalla, to the mayor of Estella, and to the Committee of Government at Montoni.
He then issued an address to his army, complimenting it upon the spirit and resolution with which the forced march to Villabella had been accomplished; reminding it that every thing depended upon the celerity of its movements, so as to prevent a concentration of any great number of adverse troops, before the Constitutional force could be augmented sufficiently to cope with them; and finally ordering it to prepare to resume the march that afternoon at three o’clock.
By means of new volunteers and a portion of the garrison of Villabella, Richard found his army increased to nearly four thousand men.
At the head of this imposing force he set out once more, at the time indicated, and commenced another rapid march in the direction of Piacere.
On the ensuing evening—the 2d of January—the towers of that important city broke upon the view of the vanguard of the Constitutionalists.
The commandant of the garrison of Piacere was an old and famous officer—General Giustiniani,—devoted to the cause of the Grand Duke, and holding in abhorrence every thing savouring of liberal opinions.
Markham was aware of this fact; and he felt convinced that Piacere would not fall into his hands without bloodshed. At the same time, he determined not to pass it by, because it would serve as a point of centralisation for the troops of Veronezzi and Terano (both being seats of the military administration of Captains-General), and moreover afford the enemy a means of cutting off all communication between himself on the one hand, and Villabella and Estella on the other.
Certain of being attacked, Markham lost no time in making the necessary arrangements. He ordered the vanguard to halt, until the troops in the rear could come up, and take their proper places; and he planted his artillery upon a hill which commanded almost the entire interval between his army and the city.
Nor were his precautions vainly taken; for in a short time a large force was seen moving towards him from Piacere, the rays of the setting sun irradiating their glittering bayonets and the steel helmets of a corps of cuirassiers.
In another quarter of an hour the enemy was so near as to induce Richard to order his artillery to open a fire upon them: but General Giustiniani, who commanded in person, led his forces on with such rapidity, that the engagement speedily commenced.
Giustiniani had about three thousand five hundred men under his orders; but although this force was numerically inferior to the Constitutionalists, it was superior in other respects—for it comprised a large body of cuirassiers, a regiment of grenadiers, a corps of rifles, and twenty field-pieces: it was, moreover fresh and unwearied, whereas the Constitutionalists were fatigued with a long march.
For a few minutes a murderous fire was kept up on both sides; but Richard led his troops to close quarters, and charged the cuirassiers at the head of his cavalry.
At the same time the Cingani, in obedience to an order which he had sent their chiefs, turned the right flank of the rifles by a rapid and skilful manœuvre, and so isolated them from their main body as to expose them to the artillery upon the hill.
Excited, as it were to desperation, by the conduct of our hero, the Constitutional cavalry performed prodigies of valour; and after an hour’s hard fighting in the grey twilight, succeeded in breaking the hitherto compact body of cuirassiers.
Leaving his cavalry to accomplish the rout of the enemy’s horse-guards, Richard flew to the aid of his right wing, which was sorely pressed by the grenadiers, and was breaking into disorder.
“Constitutionalists!” he cried: “your brethren are victorious elsewhere: abandon not the field! Follow me—to conquest or to death!”
These words operated with electrical effect; and the Constitutional infantry immediately rallied under the guidance of their youthful leader.
Then the battle was renewed: darkness fell upon the scene; but still the murderous conflict was prolonged. At length Richard engaged hand to hand with the colonel of the grenadiers, who was well mounted on a steed of enormous size. But this combat was short; the officer’s sword was dashed from his hand; and he became our hero’s prisoner.
These tidings spread like wild-fire; and the enemy fell into confusion. Their retreat became general: Richard followed up his advantage; and Giustiniani’s army was completely routed.
The Constitutionalists pressed close upon them; and Richard, once more putting himself at the head of his cavalry, pursued the fugitives up to the very walls of Piacere—not with the murderous intention of exterminating them, but with a view to secure as many prisoners as possible, and prevent the enemy from taking refuge in the city.
At the very gates of Piacere he overtook General Giustiniani, and, after a short conflict, made him captive.
He then retraced his steps to the scene of his victory, and took the necessary steps for concentrating his forces once more.
That ni
ght, the Constitutionalists bivouacked in the plains about a mile from Piacere.
Early in the morning of the 3d of January, the results of the brilliant triumph of the preceding evening were known. Eight hundred of the enemy lay dead upon the field; and fifteen hundred had been taken prisoners. The Constitutionalists had lost three hundred men, and had nearly as many wounded.
Scarcely had the sun risen on the scene of carnage, when messengers arrived from Piacere, stating that the corporation had declared in favour of the Constitutionalists, and bearing letters from the municipal authorities to Markham. Those documents assured our hero that the sympathies of the great majority of the inhabitants were in favour of his cause; and that deep regret was experienced at the waste of life which had been occasioned by the obstinacy and self-will of General Giustiniani. Those letters also contained an invitation for him to enter the city, where the tri-coloured flag was already hoisted.
These welcome tidings were soon made known to the whole army, and were received with shouts of joy and triumph.
Richard returned a suitable answer to the delegates, and then sought General Giustiniani. To this commander he offered immediate liberty, on condition that he would not again bear arms against the Constitutionalists. The offer was spurned with contempt. Markham accordingly despatched him, under a strong escort, to Villabella.
At nine o’clock Markham entered Piacere, amidst the ringing of bells, the thunder of cannon, and the welcome of the inhabitants. The corporation presented him with the keys, which he immediately returned to the mayor, saying, “I am the servant, sir, and not the master of the Castelcicalans.”
This reply was speedily circulated through Piacere, and increased the enthusiasm of the inhabitants in his favour.
The Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics) Page 54