“The duel has taken place!” he cried, as he entered the room.
“And what has happened?” she exclaimed, starting to her feet “Darcy is killed,” replied her father. “Killed in precisely the same manner as Sir Thomas Starkey.”
“Is it possible?” she rejoined. “He, the invincible — killed? But Heaven had doomed him for his wickedness.”
“Well, he will never more trouble any of us!” exclaimed the Squire. “A great weight will now be taken from your breast.”
“I feel it already,” she replied. “While he lived I should never have been easy. I could not even have died in peace.”
“Now he is gone,” said her father, “I hope you will live. He had poisoned your existence, but his baneful influence is now over. Live! — live!”
“You give me hope,” she rejoined. “And now pray leave me by myself, dearest father. I must thank Heaven for liberating me from this dreadful thraldom.”
The worthy gentleman gazed at her for a moment or two with the utmost affection, and then left the room.
Kneeling down, Mildred prayed fervently.
Her prayers concluded, she arose with a more cheerful expression of countenance than she had worn for some time.
On going down stairs, the Squire repaired to the drawing-room, where he found Lady Starkey and Lady Talmash, and told them he had just received a telegram to say that Darcy had been killed in a duel, by Stanley, at Dieppe.
Both were surprised by the unexpected news, but they hailed it with the greatest satisfaction.
“Perhaps it is the best thing that could have happened,” said Lady Starkey. “Darcy would have been sure to get into some fresh scrape.”
“It is the best thing that could possibly have happened to Mildred,” replied the Squire. “She is now effectually liberated from him, and I am right glad of it.” Not long afterwards Mrs. Brereton and Rose made their appearance. Both of them exulted rather more in Darcy’s death than Mr. Warburton thought proper, and he called them to order.
“Be charitable,” he said.
“I cannot be charitable to such a man,” rejoined Mrs. Brereton. “Nor does he appear to have been so wonderful a shot as supposed. When brought to the trial he did not prove a match for Stanley. His crimes, no doubt, weighed down his hand. At any rate, I am very glad he is gone.”
“No doubt he richly deserved his fate,” said Lady Talmash. “I certainly don’t regret him.”
“Nor I,” said Lady Starkey. “He chose to interfere with my affairs without consulting me, and I certainly felt no gratitude for the service he thought he had rendered me. He had his good points.”
“I failed to discover them,” said Lady Talmash. “To gratify his passion, he unhesitatingly destroyed the happiness of this family, and has been rightly punished.”
“That cannot be denied,” said the Squire, “and I rejoice that he can do no more mischief.”
Next morning Mildred received a letter from Sister Aline, giving her some details of Darcy’s death, which she read with much emotion, but they did not produce any serious effect upon her.
On the contrary, she seemed greatly relieved. All her father’s affection had returned. He spent part of the evening alone with her and listened to her prayers, which afforded him much consolation; sat with her again in the morning and noticed, with much satisfaction, that some improvement had taken place in her looks.
No telegram respecting the duel had been sent her, but next morning’s post brought her a letter from Stanley that gave her inexpressible comfort.
It was written before he left Dieppe, and far kinder in tone than anything she had received from him since their separation. Thus it ran —
“I scarcely expected to write to you again, for I did not believe I should survive the duel in which I have just been engaged. But I think I may rightly assume that my cause was just, since my adversary, who was accounted a dead shot, has succumbed while I have escaped unhurt.
“After this result, I am bound to manifest my gratitude to Heaven for my preservation, and I do so by sending you my entire forgiveness.
“May Heaven bless you!”
Mildred showed this letter to her father, and it touched him deeply.
“A reconciliation seems possible, after all,” he said.
“Never,” replied Mildred. “To that I would never consent, whatever Stanley might do. No, I was anxious to obtain his forgiveness, because it would afford me the greatest consolation, but I never for a moment supposed he would take me back again — nor do I desire it. For what I have done I must suffer. I shall continue the penitent life I have adopted — in which I shall follow the good example set me by Sister Aline. I must not seek a religious retreat — I may not become a member of a sisterhood — but I shall practise my devotions, and perform penance, as I have done of late, and shall never return to the world.”
The last words were uttered with a solemnity that left her father little doubt as to her determination being fixed. Nevertheless, he said —
“I sincerely hope you may change your resolution.”
“No,” she replied, “it is unalterable. I am vowed to Heaven. But for you, dearest father, I would retire to a convent and never emerge from it.”
“No, do not leave me, I entreat you!” he said, in an imploring voice. “Remain with me to the last. Everything shall be done to meet your wishes here, and if this part of the house is not sufficiently private for you it shall be made more so.”
“I have everything I require,” she replied. “The remainder of my life (which will not, probably, be very long) will be passed in repentance. I look at myself with astonishment and horror and marvel that I can have given so much time to folly.”
“Well, don’t disquiet yourself, my dear,” said the Squire. “Till this detestable Darcy appeared, your conduct was in every way satisfactory to me. In fact, you were more admired than any other girl in the country.”
“As an equestrian, perhaps, papa?”
“More admired altogether,” replied Mr. Warburton. “At that time I was very proud of you — and with good reason.”
Just then, to their great surprise, Stanley came into the room.
CHAPTER XIII.
STANLEY BIDS MILDRED NOT DESPAIR.
STANLEY had only just returned, and learning that Mr. Warburton was in his daughter’s room hastened thither.
On beholding him, Mildred uttered a slight cry, and springing forward, threw her arms round his neck, though next moment, she drew back, and blamed herself for yielding to the impulse. But Stanley raised no objection, nor did her father.
“Heaven be praised! we see you back again — and victorious!” she exclaimed.
“Ay, victorious,” added the Squire.
“Yes, I never expected to come back,” said Stanley, “but my success proves that when a man has a good cause he need never despair. I was resolved to punish this evildoer — if I could — and I have succeeded.”
“You have indeed!” said Mildred; “succeeded most wonderfully.”
“I heartily rejoice at your triumphant success,” said the Squire. “Though I must confess I had great misgivings as to the result of the meeting, I did not attempt to hold you back, because I thought you ought to punish him, or, at all events, try to do so. But as things have turned out, I am truly glad that you went. Nothing but Darcy’s death could have satisfied me.”
“My feelings must not be mistaken,” said Mildred, “I have no pity whatever for Darcy. I can have none. My life has been destroyed by him. He had no real love for me, but had vowed to take me from my husband and succeeded in his infamous design. I fled with him, but scarcely was the fatal step taken, than I bitterly repented. Then began the punishment, which I have never ceased to feel. Regarding my destroyer with loathing, I felt it would be intolerable torture to remain with him. So I broke my bonds, and took refuge in my dear father’s house.”
“There is nothing to disturb the quietude of your life now,” said Mr. Warburton.
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“I am perfectly convinced of the sincerity of your penitence,” said Stanley.
“Alas, alas! no penitence can wipe out my disgrace, and I must endure it to the end.”
“Make yourself easy in one respect,” said Stanley, with deep feeling, “you shall suffer no annoyance of any kind from me. I have too much respect and regard for your excellent father to do anything that might give him the slightest pain, and I promise you that no steps shall be taken of which he does not entirely approve.”
“It is far more than I deserve,” she replied with a grateful look.
“You have always behaved with true filial affection to me,” said Mr. Warburton, taking his hand, and pressing it warmly, “and I thank you for my daughter and myself. In her present feeble state of health, I am anxious she should be disturbed as little as possible, and the very great consideration you show her in this respect commands my deepest gratitude. You will have the opportunity of observing the sincerity of her repentance, and will judge how far she merits your kindness.”
“I cannot for a moment doubt her sincerity,” said Stanley, with great earnestness.
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the opinion you express of me,” rejoined Mildred. “It affords me the greatest consolation. I shall now die happy.”
“But I trust you may now speedily recover,” said Stanley. “You must live for your father’s sake.”
“Yes, follow that excellent advice,” said the Squire, brushing his eyes. “I should be miserable without you, so you must get well again, as soon as you can — and there really is nothing now to prevent you.”
“I never could have got well while Darcy lived — that is certain,” she replied. “Perhaps I may now.”
“I hope you may,” said Stanley.
“Do you really?” she cried, looking at him. “Undoubtedly,” he replied.
“Then I will — if I can,” she rejoined.
Mr. Warburton listened anxiously to what passed between them, and seemed much pleased.
“The prospect altogether seems brighter to-day,” he remarked. “The dark clouds that have hung about us so long seem passing off.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said Stanley. “Nothing would rejoice me more than that Beaucliffe should become again the pleasant house it used to be.”
“Since the main difficulty has been removed, there seems nothing to prevent it,” said the Squire, cheerfully. “Many things occur to me now which I should not have thought of while Darcy lived. But it is too soon to mention them. Nothing can now be decided,”
“Your trials, I trust, are nearly at an end,” said Stanley to Mildred; “and the remainder of your life may be happy.”
Mildred made rather a sad response to this cheerful wish.
“I doubt whether much more life is before me,” she said.
“Don’t despair,” replied Stanley.
“No, don’t despair!” added her father. “See how much better things have turned out than we could possibly have expected.”
“Despondency will sometimes get the better of me,” said Mildred; “but only for a moment or two, and it is now gone. I am truly thankful for what has occurred, and long to express my gratitude to Heaven.”
“Then we will afford you an opportunity of doing so,” said Stanley, preparing to depart.
“Is it too much to ask you to come and see me to-morrow?” she said.
“I should have come whether you had asked me or not,” he replied.
She thanked him by a look, and he followed Mr. Warburton, who had just gone out of the room.
On proceeding to the drawing-room with the Squire, Stanley met with an extraordinary reception from the ladies.
No sooner did he make his appearance than they all clapped their hands, and gathering round him gave him an almost embarrassing welcome.
“Why, you have become quite a hero,” cried Lady Starkey.
“Everybody, but myself, thought you would be killed,” cried his mother, embracing him.
“I didn’t suppose everybody knew I was about to fight a duel,” he remarked.
“Oh, yes, somehow or other, we all found it out,” said Rose. “I own I felt dreadfully frightened, and am uncommonly glad to see you back.”
“I hope you won’t engage in another duel,” said Lady Talmash. “You may not always be equally lucky.”
“Depend upon it I won’t if I can help it,” said Stanley.
The Squire now thought it time to interpose.
“You are all treating this matter as a joke,” he said, “whereas it’s a very serious business.”
“We know that quite well,” replied Lady Talmash. “But we feel so pleased that we can’t look serious.”
“Well, I only hope it’s the last time I shall be engaged in a mortal quarrel,” said Stanley, “especially with a man accounted a dead shot. I thought all was over with me.”
“No wonder,” said the Squire. “It must require some nerve to stand firm when the pistol of an infallible marksman is pointed against you.”
“Having just had such experience, I must declare that it does,” replied Stanley; “but at the same time I don’t think my own nerve forsook me at the critical moment.”
“It is clear it did not,” observed Lady Starkey. “I sincerely hope this is the last duel you may ever fight. Good fortune may not always attend you, as it did not always attend Darcy. Next time you may be unlucky, like him.”
“I am quite content with what I have done,” said Stanley. “I won’t make another experiment, if I can help it. Before dismissing the subject, let me mention that my adversary’s seconds behaved remarkably well, at least I thought so; while Sister Aline, who was present at the time, proved a great comfort to Darcy in his last moments.”
“Did he live very long after he was hit?” inquired Lady Starkey.
“No,” replied Stanley. “But it is to be hoped that he lived long enough to make his peace with Heaven. Though mortally hurt, he did not fall immediately, and Sister Aline was speedily with him.”
“She seems to have behaved very well to him,” remarked Mrs. Brereton.
“She behaved admirably,” replied Stanley. “That I can testify.”
CHAPTER XIV.
SISTER ALINE DELIVERS DARCY’S DYING MESSAGE TO MILDRED.
MILDRED had been much gratified by her interview with Stanley — and no wonder! for it almost seemed as if a reconciliation had taken place between them.
The interest he had displayed in her had been far greater than she had reason to expect, and she recalled his every word, and dwelt upon them with delight.
No reproaches had been uttered, but on the contrary he had sought to soothe and comfort her, and she felt most grateful for the kindness he had displayed.
In the fervent prayers she subsequently addressed to Heaven, his name was foremost, and she invoked blessings on his head.
Later on in the day Sister Aline returned, and was warmly welcomed. Georgette accompanied her, but was left in the adjoining chamber.
“I have heard all that has happened,” said Mildred to her friend; “and am well pleased you were able to attend Darcy at the last. Do you believe his repentance was sincere?”
“I hope so — but can hardly tell,” replied the Sister. “He sent a dying message to you, which I promised to deliver.”
“Indeed! what is it?” asked Mildred.
“He confessed he had done you great wrong,” replied the Sister. ‘I never loved her so passionately as I feigned,’ he said, ‘and took her away from her husband to mortify him.’”
“Was that his motive?” asked Mildred.
“That was the motive he avowed,” replied the Sister. ‘I did not love her’ he said, ‘and though I sought to induce her to come back to me after her flight, I should soon have tired of her had she complied.’”
“I would have died rather than return to him,” said Mildred.
“The attempt was solely made to provoke your husband, for whom he had c
onceived a strange aversion,” replied Sister Aline. “He confessed that he intended to kill him in the duel, and fully expected to do so. His failure proves that the Evil One, who had thus far lent him aid, had now abandoned him, and left him to his fate. However, he may be pardoned, since he deeply regretted what he had done.”
“Stanley must learn this,” said Mildred. “He will then understand the person with whom he has had to deal.”
“He shall,” replied Sister Aline. “It will likewise prove that you have been the victim of a diabolical design.”
“The chief feeling by which Darcy was governed seems to have been malice,” said Mildred. “I will endeavour to forgive him, but it will be hard to do so. Had I been weak enough to yield to his solicitations, when he came here to lure me back again, what would have been my fate?”
“Heaven guarded you. Your good resolutions were strengthened.”
“I saw through his perfidious arts,” said Mildred. “But I have been comforted by an interview with Stanley, whom I have just seen. From his manner he does not seem to have lost all affection for me. He was very kind, and said not one harsh word.”
“Darcy’s death, no doubt, has produced a great effect upon him. I felt sure it would.”
“My father was present during the whole of the interview,” said Mildred, “and seemed much moved by it. It is impossible that anyone could have been more considerate than Stanley.”
“I am rejoiced to hear it. Whatever may come of it, it cannot fail to have a beneficial effect upon you.”
“It may prolong my life,” replied Mildred. “Already I feel better. Had Stanley treated me as he might, with coldness and contempt, I should have sunk. But he has raised me in my own esteem, and I may possibly recover.”
“Heaven grant you may,” said Sister Aline. “But I do not feel certain your recovery would be agreeable to all the ladies now in this house.”
“I cannot die to please them,” said Mildred.
“I do not like to indulge worldly thoughts,” said Sister Aline; “but some of them will assuredly oppose your return to your former position.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 813