CHAPTER XX.
FRANK'S STORY.
"After you left," said Frank, "all went to confusion. Potts lordedit with a higher hand than ever, and my father was more than everinfatuated, and seemed to feel that it was necessary to justify hisharshness toward you by publicly exhibiting a greater confidence inPotts. Like a thoroughly vulgar and base nature, this man could not becontent with having the power, but loved to exhibit that power to us.Life to me for years became one long death; a hundred times I would haveturned upon the scoundrel and taken vengeance for our wrongs, but thetears of my mother forced me to use self-control. You had been drivenoff; I alone was left, and she implored me by my love for her to standby her. I wished her to take her own little property and go with me andEdith where we might all live in seclusion together; but this she wouldnot do for fear of staining the proud Brandon name.
"Potts grew worse and worse every year. There was a loathsome son of hiswhom he used to bring with him, and my father was infatuated enough totreat the younger devil with the same civility which he showed to theelder one. Poor father! he really believed, as he afterward told me,that these men were putting millions of money into his hands, and thathe would be the Beckford of his generation.
"After a while another scoundrel, called Clark, appeared, who was simplythe counterpart of Potts. Of this man something very singular was soonmade known to me.
"One day I was strolling through the grounds when suddenly, as I passedthrough a grove which stood by a fish-pond, I heard voices and saw thetwo men I hated most of all on earth standing near me. They were bothnaked. They had the audacity to go bathing in the fishpond. Clark hadhis back turned toward me, and I saw on it, below the neck, three marks,fiery red, as though they had been made by a brand. They were these:"and taking a pencil, Frank made the following marks:
^ /| [three lines, forming short arrow]
R [sans-serif R]
+ [plus sign] ]
Louis looked at this with intense excitement.
"You have been in New South Wales," said Frank, "and perhaps knowwhether it is true or not that these are brands on convicts?"
"It is true, and on convicts of the very worst kind."
"Do you know what they mean?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Only the worst are branded with a single mark, so you may imagine whata triple mark indicates. But I will tell you the meaning of each.The first (/|) is the king's mark put on those who are totallyirreclaimable and insubordinate. The second (R) means runaway, and isput on those who have attempted to escape. The third (+) indicated amurderous attack on the guards. When they are not hung, they are brandedwith this mark; and those who are branded in this way are condemned tohard work, in chains, for life."
"That's about what I supposed," said Frank, quietly, "only of course youare more particular. After seeing this I told my father. He refusedto believe me. I determined to bring matters to a crisis, and chargedPotts, in my father's presence, with associating with a branded felon.Potts at once turned upon me and appealed to my father's sense ofjustice. He accused me of being so far carried away by prejudice as notto hesitate to invent a foul slander against an honest man. He said thatClark would be willing to be put to any test; he could not, however,ask him to expose himself--it was too outrageous but would simply assertthat my charge was false.
"My father as usual believed every word and gave me a stern reprimand.Louis, in the presence of my mother and sister I cursed my father onthat day. Poor man! the blow soon fell. It was in 1845 that the crashcame. I have not the heart to go into details now. I will tell you fromtime to time hereafter. It is enough to say that every penny was lost.We had to leave the Hall and took a little cottage in the village.
"All our friends and acquaintances stood aloof. My father's oldestfriends never came near him. Old Langhetti was dead. His son knewnothing about this. I will tell you more of him presently.
"Colonel Lionel Despard was dead. His son, Courtenay, was ignorant ofall this, and was away in the North of England. There was Thornton, andI can't account for his inaction. He married Langhetti's daughter too.That is a mystery."
"They are all false, Frank."
Frank looked up with something like it smile.
"No, not all; wait till you hear me through."
Frank drew a long breath. "We got sick there, and Potts had us takento the alms-house. There we all prayed for death, but only my father'sprayer was heard. He died of a broken heart. The rest of us lived on.
"Scarcely had my father been buried when Potts came to take us away. Heinsisted that we should leave the country, and offered to pay our wayto America. We were all indifferent: we were paralyzed by grief. Thealms-house was not a place that we could cling to, so we let ourselvesdrift, and allowed Potts to send us wherever he wished. We did not evenhope for any thing better. We only hoped that somewhere or other wemight all die. What else could we do? What else could I do? There was nofriend to whom I could look: and if I ever thought of any thing, itwas that America might possibly afford us a chance to get a living tilldeath came.
"So we allowed ourselves to be sent wherever Potts chose, since it couldnot possibly make things worse than they were. He availed himself of ourstolid indifference, put us as passengers in the steerage on board ofa crowded emigrant ship, the _Tecumseh_, and gave us for our provisionssome mouldy bread.
"We simply lived and suffered, and were all waiting for death, till oneday an angel appeared who gave us a short respite, and saved us for awhile from misery. This angel, Louis, was Paolo, the son of Langhetti.
"You look amazed. It was certainly an amazing thing that he should be onboard the same ship with us. He was in the cabin. He noticed our miserywithout knowing who we were. He came to give us pity and help us. Whenat last he found out our names he fell on our necks, kissed us, and weptaloud.
"He gave up his room in the cabin to my mother and sister, and slept andlived with me. Most of all he cheered us by the lofty, spiritual wordswith which he bade us look with contempt upon the troubles of life andaspire after immortal happiness. Yes, Louis; Langhetti gave us peace.
"There were six hundred passengers. The plague broke out among us. Thedeaths every day increased, and all were filled with despair. At lastthe sailors themselves began to die.
"I believe there was only one in all that ship who preserved calm reasonand stood without fear during those awful weeks. That one was Langhetti.He found the officers of the ship panic-stricken, so he took charge ofthe steerage, organized nurses, watched over every thing, encouragedevery body, and labored night and day. In the midst of all I fell sick,and he nursed me back to life. Most of all, that man inspired fortitudeby the hope that beamed in his eyes, and by the radiancy of his smile.'Never mind, Brandon,' said he as I lay, I thought doomed. 'Death isnothing. Life goes on. You will leave this pest-ship for a realm oflight. Keep up your heart, my brother immortal, and praise God with yourlatest breath.'
"I recovered, and then stood by his side as best I might. I found thathe had never told my mother of my sickness. At last my mother andsister in the cabin fell sick. I heard of it some days after, and wasprostrated again. I grew better after a time; but just as we reachedquarantine, Langhetti, who had kept himself up thus far, gave outcompletely, and fell before the plague."
"Did he die?" asked Louis, in a faltering voice.
"Not on ship-board. He was carried ashore senseless. My mother andsister were very low, and were also carried on shore. I, though weak,was able to nurse them all. My mother died first."
There was a long pause. At last Frank resumed:
"My sister gradually recovered: and then, through grief and fatigue, Ifell sick for the third time. I felt it coming on. My sister nursed me;for a time I thought I was going to die. 'Oh, Edith,' I said, 'when Idie, devote your life while it lasts to Langhetti, whom God sent to usin our despair. Save his life even if you give up your own.'
"After that I became delirious, and remained so for a long time. Weeksp
assed; and when at last I revived the plague was stayed, and but fewsick were on the island. My case was a lingering one, for this was thethird attack of the fever. Why I didn't die I can't understand. Therewas no attendance. All was confusion, horror, and death.
"When I revived the first question was after Langhetti and Edith. No oneknew any thing about them. In the confusion we had been separated, andEdith had died alone."
"Who told you that she died?" asked Louis, with a troubled look.
Frank looked at him with a face of horror.
"Can you bear what I am going to say?"
"Yes."
"When I was able to move about I went to see if any one could tellme about Edith and Langhetti. I heard an awful story; that thesuperintendent had gone mad and had been found trying to dig open agrave, saying that some one was _buried alive_. Who do you think? oh, mybrother!"
"Speak!"
"Edith Brandon was the name he named."
"Be calm, Frank: I made inquiries myself at the island registry-office.The clerk told me this story, but said that the woman who had charge ofthe dead asserted that the grave was opened, and it was ascertained thatabsolute death had taken place.
"Alas!" said Frank, in a voice of despair, "I saw that woman--the keeperof the dead-house--the grave-digger's wife. She told me this story, butit was with a troubled eye. I swore vengeance on her unless she told methe truth. She was alarmed, and said she would reveal all she knew if Iswore to keep it to myself. I swore it. Can you bear to hear it, Louis?"
"Speak!"
"She said only this: 'When the grave was opened it was found that EdithBrandon had not been dead when she was buried.'"
Louis groaned, and, falling forward, buried his head in both his hands.
It was a long time before either of them spoke. At last Louis, withoutlifting his head, said:
"Go on."
"When I left the island I went to Quebec, but could not stay there. Itwas too near the place of horror. I went up the river, working my way asa laborer, to Montreal. I then sought for work, and obtained employmentas porter in a warehouse. What mattered it? What was rank or station tome? I only wanted to keep myself from starvation and get a bed to sleepon at night.
"I had no hope or thought of any thing. The horrors through which I hadpassed were enough to fill my mind. Yet above them all one horror waspredominant, and never through the days and nights that have sinceelapsed has my soul ceased to quiver at the echo of two terrible wordswhich have never ceased to ring through my brain--'Buried alive!'
"I lived on in Montreal, under an assumed name, as a common porter, andmight have been living there yet; but one day as I came in I heard thename of 'Brandon.' Two of the clerks who were discussing the news in themorning paper happened to speak of an advertisement which had long beenin the papers in all parts of Canada. It was for information about theBrandon family.
"I read the notice. It seemed to me at first that Potts was stilltrying to get control of us, but a moment's reflection showed that tobe improbable. Then the mention of 'the friends of the family' made methink of Langhetti. I concluded that he had escaped death and was tryingto find me out.
"I went to Toronto, and found that you had gone to New York. I had savedmuch of my wages, and was able to come here. I expected Langhetti, butfound you."
"Why did you not think that it might be me?"
"Because I heard a threat of Potts about you, and took it for grantedthat he would succeed in carrying it out."
"What was the threat?"
"He found out somehow that my father had written a letter to you. Isuppose they told him so at the village post-office. One day when he wasin the room he said, with a laugh, alluding to the letter, 'I'll uncorkthat young Brandy-flask before long.'"
"Well--the notice of my death appeared in the English papers."
Frank looked earnestly at him.
"And I accept it, and go under an assumed name."
"So do I. It is better."
"You thought Langhetti alive. Do you think he is?"
"I do not think so now."
"Why not?"
"The efforts which he made were enough to kill any man without theplague. He must have died."
After hearing Frank's story Louis gave a full account of his ownadventures, omitting, however, all mention of Beatrice. That wassomething for his own heart, and not for another's ear.
"Have you the letter and MS.?"
"Yes."
"Let me read them."
Louis took the treasures and handed them to Frank. He read them insilence.
"Is Cato with you yet?"
"Yes."
"It is well."
"And now, Frank," said Louis, "you have something at last to live for."
"What is that?"
"Vengeance!" cried Louis, with burning eyes.
"Vengeance!" repeated Frank, without emotion--"Vengeance! What isthat to me? Do you hope to give peace to your own heart by inflictingsuffering on our enemies? What can they possibly suffer that can atonefor what they have inflicted? All that they can feel is as nothingcompared with what we have felt. Vengeance!" he repeated, musingly; "andwhat sort of vengeance? Would you kill them? What would that effect?Would he be more miserable than he is? Or would you feel any greaterhappiness? Or do you mean something more far-reaching than death?"
"Death," said Louis, "is nothing for such crimes as his."
"You want to inflict suffering, then, and you ask me. Well, after all,do I want him to suffer? Do I care for this man's sufferings? What arethey or what can they be to me? He stands on his own plane, far beneathme; he is a coarse animal, who can, perhaps, suffer from nothing butphysical pain. Should I inflict that on him, what good would it be tome? And yet there is none other that I can inflict."
"Langhetti must have transformed you," said Louis, "with his spiritualideas."
"Langhetti; or perhaps the fact that I three times gazed upon the faceof death and stood upon the threshold of that place where dwells theInfinite Mystery. So when you speak of mere vengeance my heart does notrespond. But there is still something which may make a purpose as strongas vengeance."
"Name it."
"The sense of intolerable wrong!" cried Frank, in vehement tones; "thepresence of that foul pair in the home of our ancestors, our own exile,and all the sufferings of the past! Do you think that I can endurethis?"
"No--you must have vengeance."
"No; not vengeance."
"What then?"
"Justice!" cried Frank, starting to his feet. "Justice--strict, stern,merciless; and that justice means to me all that you mean by vengeance.Let us make war against him from this time forth while life lasts; letus cast him out and get back our own; let us put him into the power ofthe law, and let that take satisfaction on him for his crimes; let uscast him out and fling him from us to that power which can fittinglycondemn. I despise him, and despise his sufferings. His agony will giveme no gratification. The anguish that a base nature can suffer is onlydisgusting to me--he suffers only out of his baseness. To me, and with athing like that, vengeance is impossible, and justice is enough."
"At any rate you will have a purpose, and your purpose points to thesame result as mine."
"But how is this possible?" said Frank. "He is strong, and we are weak.What can we do?"
"We can try," said Louis. "You are ready to undertake any thing. Youdo not value your life. There is one thing which is before us. It isdesperate--it is almost hopeless; but we are both ready to try it."
"What is that?"
"The message from the dead," said Louis, spreading before Frank thatletter from the treasure-ship which he himself had so often read.
"And are you going to try this?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know. I must first find out the resources of science."
"Have you Cato yet?"
"Yes."
"Can he dive?"
"He was brought up on the Malabar coast, among the pearl-fish
ers, andcan remain under water for an incredible space of time. But I hopeto find means which will enable me myself to go down under the oceandepths. This will be our object now. If it succeeds, then we can gainour purpose; if not, we must think of something else."