Part 27 (1/2)

said Glas...o...b..ry, with streaming eyes.

'So innocent, so truly virtuous!' continued Ferdinand. 'It seemed to me I never knew what virtue was till I knew her. So frank, so generous! I think I see her now, with that dear smile of hers that never more may welcome me!'

'My child, I know not what to say; I know not what advice to give; I know not what even to wish. Your situation is so complicated, so mysterious, that it pa.s.ses my comprehension. There are others whose claims, whose feelings should be considered. You are not, of course, married?'

Ferdinand shook his head.

'Does Miss Grandison know all?'

'Nothing.'

'Your family?'

Ferdinand shook his head again.

'What do you yourself wish? What object are you aiming at? What game have you yourself been playing? I speak not in harshness; but I really do not understand what you have been about. If you have your grandfather's pa.s.sions, you have his brain too. I did not ever suppose that you were ”infirm of purpose.”'

'I have only one wish, only one object. Since I first saw Henrietta, my heart and resolution have never for an instant faltered; and if I do not now succeed in them I am determined not to live.'

'The G.o.d of all goodness have mercy on this distracted house!' exclaimed Glas...o...b..ry, as he piously lifted his hands to heaven.

'You went to Bath to communicate this great change to your father,' he continued. 'Why did you not? Painful as the explanation must be to Miss Grandison, the injustice of your conduct towards her is aggravated by delay.'

'There were reasons,' said Ferdinand, 'reasons which I never intended anyone to know; but now I have no secrets. Dear Glas...o...b..ry, even amid all this overwhelming misery, my cheek burns when I confess to you that I have, and have had for years, private cares of my own of no slight nature.'

'Debts?' enquired Glas...o...b..ry.

'Debts,' replied Ferdinand, 'and considerable ones.'

'Poor child!' exclaimed Glas...o...b..ry. 'And this drove you to the marriage?'

'To that every worldly consideration impelled me: my heart was free then; in fact, I did not know I had a heart; and I thought the marriage would make all happy. But now, so far as I am myself concerned, oh! I would sooner be the commonest peasant in this county, with Henrietta Temple for the partner of my life, than live at Armine with all the splendour of my ancestors.'

'Honour be to them; they were great men,' exclaimed Glas...o...b..ry.

'I am their victim,' replied Ferdinand. 'I owe my ancestors nothing, nay, worse than nothing; I owe them------'

'Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+' said Glas...o...b..ry. 'If only for my sake, Ferdinand, be silent.'

'For yours, then, not for theirs.'

'But why did you remain at Bath?' enquired Glas...o...b..ry.

'I had not been there more than a day or two, when my princ.i.p.al creditor came down from town and menaced me. He had a power of attorney from an usurer at Malta, and talked of applying to the Horse Guards. The report that I was going to marry an heiress had kept these fellows quiet, but the delay and my absence from Bath had excited his suspicion. Instead, therefore, of coming to an immediate explanation with Katherine, brought about as I had intended by my coldness and neglect, I was obliged to be constantly seen with her in public, to prevent myself from being arrested. Yet I wrote to Ducie daily. I had confidence in my energy and skill. I thought that Henrietta might be for a moment annoyed or suspicious; I thought, however, she would be supported by the fervour of my love. I antic.i.p.ated no other evil. Who could have supposed that these infernal visitors would have come at such a moment to this retired spot?'

'And now, is all known now?' enquired Glas...o...b..ry.

'Nothing,' replied Ferdinand; 'the difficulty of my position was so great that I was about to cut the knot, by quitting Bath and leaving a letter addressed to Katherine, confessing all. But the sudden silence of Henrietta drove me mad. Day after day elapsed; two, three, four, five, six days, and I heard nothing. The moon was bright; the mail was just going off. I yielded to an irresistible impulse. I bid adieu to no one.

I jumped in. I was in London only ten minutes. I dashed to Ducie. It was deserted. An old woman told me the family had gone, had utterly departed; she knew not where, but she thought for foreign parts. I sank down; I tottered to a seat in that hall where I had been so happy. Then it flashed across my mind that I might discover their course and pursue them. I hurried to the nearest posting town. I found out their route.

I lost it for ever at the next stage. The clue was gone; it was market-day, and in a great city, where horses are changed every minute, there is so much confusion that my enquiries were utterly baffled. And here I am, Mr. Glas...o...b..ry,' added Ferdinand, with a kind of mad smile.