Part 54 (1/2)
”And I tell him the whole story, by gar! I spare not myself at all, though he scorns me with his hand, and calls me 'blackleg,' and thanks me nothing for my story, but after that he is kinder to me, and rouses himself to scoop with me through our prison floor, with the broken plate--I with the rusty key, and when we stand face to face under the stars beyond the prison bars, his hand so thin, so bleeding, is pointed Northward, his sunken eyes gather fire, and he says:
”'My fortune is on the Federal battle-field; such life as G.o.d sends me I shall seek there; I am done forever with England.'
”_Mon Dieu!_ I love my brave St. Udo like a brother. Would I let my brother drop Seven-Oak Waaste through his fingers?
”I say him neither yea nor nay, but traverse with him the dreary swamps, and we go to Was.h.i.+ngton.
”His wounds and weakness threw him sick into an hospital. I, in my efforts to have a knight of industry properly compensated, am driven with howlings from the savage place, and in the pursuit of a virtuous livelihood in New York, lose sight for a time of my St. Udo.
”Mademoiselle Walsingham, if Dame Fortune had really frowned upon my little secret scheme, which was to punish the dastard Mortlake, and to advance my brave _camarade_, she would not have thrown St. Udo in my way so persistently, when with the tears and sorrow I had been forced to part with him, as I feared for the last time, at Was.h.i.+ngton.
”But look you! In my pursuit of purchasers for my famous war-horses, I find myself in a hospital, where a general--great man--has promised to meet me, and I meet once more my colonel. He has been sent to New York for better attendance than can be got in the overcrowded hospitals of Was.h.i.+ngton, and I find him weak as a child from wound-fever, and, by gar! I am so overjoyed that I fall upon his neck and forgot to drive my bargain with the general.
”I say to him: '_Mon ami_, I devote myself to you. I pledge myself to cancel the past by making up to you a little fortune. Forswear the sword _mon frere_, and turn it into a pruning-hook as I have done; be _camarade_ with me once more, and we shall reap a harvest of greenbacks from these patriots, who must every one be officer, and to ride away to battle must every one have a brave war-horse. Let _us_ mount them _mon frere_--already I have a modest little something made up wholly from the help I have given these patriots. What say you, my Brand?
”_Mon Dieu!_ mademoiselle, he waxes very angry with me, and complains that I am tarnis.h.i.+ng his honor with my villainous schemes for self-advancement. I, who am willing to share my purse with him.
”I say: 'But, monsieur, you have not heard me out yet. You have flown at me like your own obstinate bull-dogs, that bark! bark! bark! and will not hear reason. I have yet to finish my plan for your welfare, I would have said had you not interrupted me. And then, when our purses burst with greenbacks, let us go to England and see how Seven-Oak Waaste is getting on with Mortlake for a master, and the companion of the _grand mere_ for a mistress. You like English fair play, my friend; and it is not English fair play to let Mortlake have Castle Brand.'
”'Mortlake!' shouts my invalid, in a pa.s.sion. 'What have I to do with him, or with Castle Brand, or with Miss Walsingham? Let them make what they like of it: I am not going to soil my fingers dipping into the pot with them. I will never set my foot in England again, I tell you, and be good enough to understand me when I say so!'
”I throw out the hand in disinterested despair at his obstinacy and ask how he is to live.
”'A soldier may always live by his sword,' he says; 'and I don't mind trying if the adage is true. And if ever I meet that sneaking valet of ours, Calembours, I'll horsewhip him for the mark of attention he gave me, and if you have any love-token to entrust me with, I'll faithfully deliver it too.'
”A strange suspicion has been in my mind since ever my colonel told me of the dastardly murder which Thoms attempted upon him, which is that Thoms had been hired by my princ.i.p.al to do the deed after having spied on us to see that I fulfilled my contract. This is so humbling to my pride as a sharp-witted man whose motto is: 'The world loves to be gulled, and I am the one to gull them.' that I breathe nothing of it, but, _morbleu_! I promise to myself that my Monsieur Mortlake shall hear of this.
”So, generous vengeance firing me, I bid adieu to the valiant colonel, and return to the island of bull-dogs, full of indignation against the cur who will have the loud snarl at me when I pull the bone out of his teeth.
”And _ma foi!_ what do I find? The papers vaunting Mademoiselle Walsingham's courage in unmasking the impostor--her wonderful integrity which refuses to accept Madame Brand's bequest--her cleverness in frustrating the attempt upon her life. Everywhere I read paragraphs pertaining to the 'Castle Brand Plot.' I begin to feel the curiosity grow to see this wonderful Mademoiselle Marguerite.
”I have told you of my meeting at Canterbury of the abject Mortlake.
Having seen Him as securely entrapped as his bitterest enemy could wish, I come to you, full of my dreams for the n.o.ble Brand, burning to thank you in his name for your bravery.
”I throw my money about like the grand seigneur. I make all haste--I penetrate to your presence and find, not as St. Udo had believed, a cunning adventuress, but empress of love, generosity, soul.
”I wave the hat again, and shriek _brava! bravissamo!_ for I know that my great news will bring the joy to your great heart, and I see that _lettle_ compensation already slipping into my pocket. Eh, mademoiselle?”
Margaret rose and turned her face from the chevalier. As yet she could grasp nothing but the knowledge that St. Udo Brand was alive; and oh, the whirl of joy which danced its wild measure in her heart!
He had risen from his shallow grave to a second life of purity and mayhap of happiness.
”So good and so patient--waiting--waiting to accept the life that G.o.d shall give.”
Ah! might _she_ not hallow to him his resurrection by bands of love?
He was alive! Sweet Heaven! to think that he was alive!
The mighty rush of feeling broke its bands at last--she sank upon a chair, shaken by her sobs, and her heart, quaking at its own great hunger, opened to take in its joy, and all was forgotten save her tumultuous vision of bliss.