Part 60 (1/2)
”Well, well, don't put yourself into a pa.s.sion; the only chance as I knows of is to ketch Miss Clara out walking; and then ten to one Mr.
Fleming will be with her.”
”Let him!” exclaimed I; ”why should I avoid him? I have not injured him, though he may have done me foul and bitter wrong; it is for him to shrink from the encounter.”
-395-- ”I know what the end of this will be,” returned Peter Barnett; ”you'll quarrel; and then, instead of off coats and having it out like Britons, there'll be a purlite hinvitation given, as kind and civil as if you was a-hasking him to dinner, to meet as soon as it's light to-morrow morning, and do you the favour of putting a brace of bullets into you.”
”No, Peter, you do not understand my feeling on this subject; should you be right in your suspicions (and, although my faith in your young mistress is such that nothing but the evidence of my own senses can avail to shake it, I am fain to own circ.u.mstances appear fully to warrant them)--should these suspicions not prove unfounded, it is _her_ falsehood alone that will darken the suns.h.i.+ne of my future life.
Fleming, or any other c.o.xcomb who had taken advantage of her fickleness, would be equally beneath my notice. But enough of this; where shall I be most likely to meet her?”
”You knows the seat in the shrubbery walk under the old beeches, where you saw Miss Clara the first time as ever you c.u.m here?”
”Only too well,” answered I, as the recollection of that morning contrasted painfully with my present feelings.
”Well, you be near there about eleven o'clock; and if Miss Clara don't walk that way, I'll send down a boy with hinformation as to the henemy's movements. Keep out of sight as much as you can.”
”It shall be done,” replied I.
Old Peter paused for a moment; then, raising his hand to his forehead with a military salute, turned away and left me.
Eight o'clock struck; a girl brought me in breakfast; nine and ten sounded from an old clock in the bar, but the viands remained untasted.
At a quarter past ten I rang the bell, and asked for a gla.s.s of water, drained it, and, pressing my hat over my brow, sallied forth. The morning had been misty when I first started, but during my sojourn at the inn the vapours had cleared away, and as, by the a.s.sistance of an old tree, I climbed over the paling of Barstone Park, the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly, wrapping dale and down in a mantle of golden light.
Rabbits sprung up under my feet as I made my way through the fern and heather; and pheasants, their varied plumage glittering in the sunlight, ran along my path, seeking to hide their long necks under some sheltering furze brake, or rose heavily on the wing, scared at the unwonted intrusion. At any other time the fair scene -396-- around me would have sufficed to make me light-hearted and happy, but in the state of suspense and mental torture in which I then was, the brightness of nature seemed only to contrast the more vividly with the darkness of soul within. And yet I could not believe her false. Oh, no! I should see her, and all would be explained; and as this thought came across me, I bounded eagerly forward, and, anxious to accelerate the meeting, chafed at each trifling obstacle that opposed itself to my progress. Alas! one short hour from that time, I should have been glad had there been a lion in my path, so that I had failed to reach the fatal spot.
With my mind fixed on the one object of meeting Clara, I forgot the old man's recommendation to keep out of sight; and flinging myself at full length on the bench, I rested my head upon my hand, and fell into a reverie, distorting facts and devising impossible contingencies to establish Clara's innocence. From this train of thought I was aroused by a m.u.f.fled sound as of footsteps upon turf, and in another moment, the following words, breathed in silvery accents, which caused my every pulse to throb with suppressed emotion, reached my ear:--
”It is indeed an engagement of which I now heartily repent, and from which I would willingly free myself; but--”
”But,” replied a man's voice, in the cold sneering tone of which, though now softened by an expression of courtesy, I had almost said of tenderness, I instantly recognised that of Stephen Wilford,--”but, having at one time encouraged the poor young man, your woman's heart will not allow you to say 'No' with sufficient firmness to show that he has nothing further to hope.”
”Indeed it is not so,” replied the former speaker, who, as the reader has doubtless concluded, was none other than Clara Saville; ”you mistake me, Mr. Fleming; if a word could prove to him that his suit was hopeless, that word should soon be spoken.”
”It is not needed!” exclaimed I, springing to my feet, and suddenly confronting them; ”that of which the tongue of living man would have failed to convince me, my ears have heard, and my eyes have seen! It is enough. Clara, from this moment you will be to me as if the grave had closed over you; yet not so, for then I could have loved your memory, and deemed that an angel had left this false and cruel world to seek one better fitted to her bright and sinless nature!--Farewell, Clara! may you be as happy as the recollection (which will haunt you at -397-- times, strive as you may to banish it), that by your falsehood you have embittered the life of one who loved you with a deep and true affection, will permit!” and overcome by the agony of my feelings, I leaned against the bench for support, my knees trembling so that I could scarcely stand.
When I appeared before her so unexpectedly, Clara started back and uttered a slight scream; after which, apparently overwhelmed by my vehemence, she had remained perfectly silent; whilst her companion, who had at first favoured me with one of his withering glances, perceiving that I was so completely engrossed as to be scarcely conscious of his presence, resumed his usual manner of contemptuous indifference. He was, however, the first to speak.
”This gentleman, whom I believe I have the pleasure of recognising,”
and here he slightly raised his hat, ”appears, I can scarcely suppose, a friend, but, at all events, an intimate of yours, Miss Saville; if you wish me--that is, if I am at all _de trop_----” and he stepped back a pace or two, as if only awaiting a hint from her to withdraw, while with his snake-like glance riveted upon her features, he watched the effect of his words.
”No, pray do not leave me, Mr. Fleming,” exclaimed Clara hurriedly; ”Mr.
Fairlegh must see the impossibility of remaining here. I am momentarily expecting Mr. c.u.mberland and my guardian to join us.”
”I leave you,” replied I, making an effort to recover myself; ”I seek not to pain you by my presence, I would not add to your feelings of self-reproach by look or word of mine;” then, catching Wilford's glance fixed upon me with an expression of gratified malice, I continued, ”For you, sir, I seek not to learn by what vile arts you have succeeded thus far in your iniquitous designs; it is enough for me that it should have been possible for you to succeed; my happiness you have destroyed; but I have yet duties to perform, and my life is in the hands of Him who gave it, nor will I risk it by a fruitless quarrel with a practised homicide.”
The look of concentrated hatred with which he regarded me during this speech, changed again to scornful indifference, as he replied, with a contemptuous laugh, ”Really, sir, you are labouring under some singular delusion; I have no intention of quarrelling; you appear to raise phantoms for the pleasure of combating them. However, as far as I can comprehend the affair, you are imputing to me an honour belonging rather to my friend -398-- c.u.mberland; and here, in good time, he comes to answer for himself. c.u.mberland, here's a gentleman mistaking me for you, I fancy, who seems labouring under some strange delusions about love and murder; you had better speak to him.” As he concluded, c.u.mberland, attended by a gamekeeper leading a shooting pony, came up, looking flushed and angry.
”I should have been here sooner,” he said, addressing Wilford, ”but Browne told me he had traced poachers in the park; the footsteps can be otherwise accounted for now, I perceive.” He then made a sign for the keeper to approach, and, turning towards me, added, ”You are trespa.s.sing, sir”.