CHAPTER VII.
THE PLOT APPROACHES ITS DENOUEMENT.
ALTHOUGH the details of my last chapter have somewhat retarded theprogress of that _denouement_ with which this volume is destined toclose, yet I do not think the destined reader will regret lingeringover a scene in which, after years of restless enterprise and exile, hebeholds the asylum which fortune had prepared for the most extraordinarycharacter with which I have adorned these pages.
It was before daybreak that I commenced my journey. The shutters of thehouse were as yet closed; the gray mists rising slowly from the earth,and the cattle couched beneath the trees, the cold but breezelessfreshness of the morning, the silence of the unawakened birds, all gavean inexpressible stillness and quiet to the scene. The horses slowlyascended a little eminence, and I looked from the window of the carriageon the peaceful retreat I had left. I sighed as I did so, and a sicksensation, coupled with the thought of Isora, came chill upon my heart.No man happily placed in this social world can guess the feelings ofenvy with which a wanderer like me, without tie or home, and for whomthe roving eagerness of youth is over, surveys those sheltered spotsin which the breast garners up all domestic bonds, its household andholiest delights; the companioned hearth, the smile of infancy, and,dearer than all, the eye that glasses our purest, our tenderest, ourmost secret thoughts; these--oh, none who enjoy them know how they forwhom they are not have pined and mourned for them!
I had not travelled many hours, when, upon the loneliest part of theroad, my carriage, which had borne me without an accident from Rome toLondon, broke down. The postilions said there was a small inn about amile from the spot; thither I repaired: a blacksmith was sent for, andI found the accident to the carriage would require several hours torepair. No solitary chaise did the inn afford; but the landlord, who wasa freeholder and a huntsman, boasted one valuable and swift horse, whichhe declared was fit for an emperor or a highwayman. I was too impatientof delay not to grasp at this intelligence. I gave mine host whatever hedemanded for the loan of his steed, transferred my pistols to an immensepair of holsters, which adorned a high demi-pique saddle, wherewithhe obliged me, and, within an hour from the date of the accident,recommenced my journey.
The evening closed, as I became aware of the presence of afellow-traveller. He was, like myself, on horseback. He wore a short,dark gray cloak, a long wig of a raven hue, and a large hat, which,flapping over his face, conspired, with the increasing darkness, toallow me a very imperfect survey of his features. Twice or thrice he hadpassed me, and always with some salutation, indicative of a desire forfurther acquaintance; but my mood is not naturally too much inclined tomiscellaneous society, and I was at that time peculiarly covetous ofmy own companionship. I had, therefore, given but a brief answer tothe horseman's courtesy, and had ridden away from him with a veryunceremonious abruptness. At length, when he had come up to me for thefourth time, and for the fourth time had accosted me, my ear caughtsomething in the tones of his voice which did not seem to me whollyunfamiliar. I regarded him with more attention than I had as yet done,and replied to him more civilly and at length. Apparently encouraged bythis relaxation from my reserve, the man speedily resumed.
"Your horse, Sir," said he, "is a fine animal, but he seems jaded: youhave ridden far to-day, I'll venture to guess."
"I have, Sir; but the town where I shall pass the night is not abovefour miles distant, I believe."
"Hum--ha!--you sleep at D-----, then?" said the horseman, inquisitively.
A suspicion came across me; we were then entering a very lonely road,and one notoriously infested with highwaymen. My fellow equestrian'scompany might have some sinister meaning in it. I looked to my holsters,and leisurely taking out one of my pistols, saw to its priming, andreturned it to its depository. The horseman noted the motion, and hemoved his horse rather uneasily, and I thought timidly, to the otherside of the road.
"You travel well armed, Sir," said he, after a pause.
"It is a necessary precaution, Sir," answered I, composedly, "in a roadone is not familiar with, and with companions one has never had thehappiness to meet before."
"Ahem!--ahem!--_Parbleu_, Monsieur le Comte, you allude to me; but Iwarrant this is not the first time we have met."
"Ha!" said I, riding closer to my fellow traveller, "you know me, then,and we _have_ met before. I thought I recognized your voice, but Icannot remember when or where I last heard it."
"Oh, Count, I believe it was only by accident that we commencedacquaintanceship, and only by accident, you see, do we now resume it.But I perceive that I intrude on your solitude. Farewell, Count, and apleasant night at your inn."
"Not so fast, Sir," said I, laying firm hand on my companion's shoulder,"I know you now, and I thank Providence that I have found you. MarieOswald, it is not lightly that I will part with you!"
"With all my heart, Sir, with all my heart. But, _morbleu_! Monsieur leComte, do take your hand from my shoulder: I am a nervous man, and yourpistols are loaded, and perhaps you are choleric and hasty. I assure youI am far from wishing to part with you abruptly, for I have watched youfor the last two days in order to enjoy the honour of this interview."
"Indeed! your wish will save both of us a world of trouble. I believeyou may serve me effectually; if so, you will find me more desirous andmore able than ever to show my gratitude."
"Sir, you are too good," quoth Mr. Oswald, with an air far morerespectful than he had yet shown me. "Let us make to your inn, and thereI shall be most happy to receive your commands." So saying, Marie pushedon his horse, and I urged my own to the same expedition.
"But tell me," said I, as we rode on, "why you have wished to meetme?--me whom you so cruelly deserted and forsook?"
"Oh, _parbleu_, spare me there! it was not I who deserted you: I wascompelled to fly; death, murder, on one side; safety, money, and a snugplace in Italy, as a lay-brother of the Institute on the other! Whatcould I do?--you were ill in bed, not likely to recover, not able toprotect me in my present peril, in a state that in all probability neverwould require my services for the future. Oh, Monsieur le Comte, itwas not desertion,--that is a cruel word,--it was self-preservation andcommon prudence."
"Well," said I, complaisantly, "you apply words better than I appliedthem. And how long have you been returned to England?"
"Some few weeks, Count, not more. I was in London when you arrived; Iheard of that event; I immediately repaired to your hotel; you were goneto my Lord Bolingbroke's; I followed you thither; you had left Dawleywhen I arrived there; I learned your route and followed you. _Parbleu_and _morbleu_! I find you, and you take me for a highwayman!"
"Pardon my mistake: the clearest-sighted men are subject to commitsuch errors, and the most innocent to suffer by them. So Montreuil_persuaded_ you to leave England; did he also persuade you to return?"
"No: I was charged by the Institute with messages to him and others. Butwe are near the town, Count, let us defer our conversation till then."
We entered D-----, put up our horses, called for an apartment,--to whichsummons Oswald added another for wine,--and then the virtuous Mariecommenced his explanations. I was deeply anxious to ascertain whetherGerald had ever been made acquainted with the fraud by which he hadobtained possession of the estates of Devereux; and I found that, fromDesmarais, Oswald had learned all that had occurred to Geraldsince Marie had left England. From Oswald's prolix communication, Iascertained that Gerald was, during the whole of the interval between myuncle's death and my departure from England, utterly unacquainted withthe fraud of the will. He readily believed that my uncle had foundgood reason for altering his intentions with respect to me; and mylaw proceedings, and violent conduct towards himself, only excitedhis indignation, not aroused his suspicions. During this time he livedentirely in the country, indulging the rural hospitality and the rusticsports which he especially affected, and secretly but deeply involvedwith Montreuil in political intrigues. All this time the Abbe made nofurther use of him than to borrow whatever sums
he required for hispurposes. Isora's death, and the confused story of the document givenme by Oswald, Montreuil had interpreted to Gerald according to theinterpretation of the world; namely, he had thrown the suspicion uponOswald, as a common villain, who had taken advantage of my credulityabout the will, introduced himself into the house on that pretence,attempted the robbery of the most valuable articles therein,--which,indeed, he had succeeded in abstracting, and who, on my awaking andcontesting with him and his accomplice, had, in self-defence, inflictedthe wounds which had ended in my delirium and Isora's death. This partof my tale Montreuil never contradicted, and Gerald believed it tothe present day. The affair of 1715 occurred; the government, aware ofGerald's practices, had anticipated his design of joining the rebels;he was imprisoned; no act of overt guilt on his part was proved, or atleast brought forward; and the government not being willing, perhaps, toproceed to violent measures against a very young man, and the head ofa very powerful house, connected with more than thirty branches of theEnglish hereditary nobility, he received his acquittal just before SirWilliam Wyndham and some other suspected Tories received their own.
Prior to the breaking out of that rebellion, and on the eve ofMontreuil's departure for Scotland, the priest summoned Desmarais, whom,it will be remembered, I had previously dismissed, and whom Montreuilhad since employed in various errands, and informed him that he hadobtained for his services the same post under Gerald which the Fatalisthad filled under me. Soon after the failure of the rebellion, DevereuxCourt was destroyed by accidental fire; and Montreuil, who had comeover in disguise, in order to renew his attacks on my brother's coffers(attacks to which Gerald yielded very sullenly, and with many assurancesthat he would no more incur the danger of political and seditiousprojects), now advised Gerald to go up to London, and, in order to avoidthe suspicion of the government, to mix freely in the gayeties of thecourt. Gerald readily consented; for, though internally convinced thatthe charms of the metropolis were not equal to those of the country,yet he liked change, and Devereux Court being destroyed, he shuddered alittle at the idea of rebuilding so enormous a pile. Before Gerald leftthe old tower (_my tower_) which was alone spared by the flames, and atwhich he had resided, though without his household, rather than quita place where there was such "excellent shooting," Montreuil said toDesmarais, "This ungrateful _seigneur de village_ already shows himselfthe niggard; he must know what _we_ know,--that is our only sure hold ofhim,--but he must not know it yet;" and he proceeded to observe thatit was for the hotbeds of courtly luxury to mellow and hasten anopportunity for the disclosure. He instructed Desmarais to see thatGerald (whom even a valet, at least one so artful as Desmarais, mighteasily influence) partook to excess of every pleasure,--at least ofevery pleasure which a gentleman might without derogation to his dignityenjoy. Gerald went to town, and very soon became all that Montreuildesired.
Montreuil came again to England; his great project, Alberoni's project,had failed. Banished France and Spain, and excluded Italy, he wasdesirous of obtaining an asylum in England, until he could negotiate areturn to Paris. For the first of these purposes (the asylum) interestwas requisite; for the latter (the negotiation) money was desirable.He came to seek both these necessaries in Gerald Devereux. Gerald hadalready arrived at that prosperous state when money is not lightly givenaway. A dispute arose; and Montreuil raised the veil, and showed theheir on what terms his estates were held.
Rightly Montreuil had read the human heart! So long as Gerald lived inthe country, and tasted not the full enjoyments of his great wealth,it would have been highly perilous to have made this disclosure; for,though Gerald had no great love for me, and was bold enough to run anydanger, yet he was neither a Desmarais nor a Montreuil. He was that mostcapricious thing, a man of honour; and at that day he would instantlyhave given up the estate to me, and Montreuil and the philosopher to thehangman. But, after two or three years of every luxury that wealthcould purchase; after living in those circles, too, where wealth is thehighest possible merit, and public opinion, therefore, only honours therich, fortune became far more valuable and the conscience far less nice.Living at Devereux Court, Gerald had only L30,000 a year; living inLondon, he had all that L30,000 a year can purchase: a very greatdifference this indeed! Honour is a fine bulwark against a small force;but, unbacked by other principle, it is seldom well manned enough toresist a large one. When, therefore, Montreuil showed Gerald that hecould lose his estate in an instant; that the world would never givehim credit for innocence, when guilt would have conferred on him suchadvantages; that he would therefore part with all those _et eoetera_which, now in the very prime of life, made his whole idea of humanenjoyments; that he would no longer be the rich, the powerful, thehonoured, the magnificent, the envied, the idolized lord of thousands,but would sink at once into a younger brother, dependent on the manhe most hated for his very subsistence,--since his debts would greatlyexceed his portion,--and an object through life of contemptuous pityor of covert suspicion; that all this change could happen at a word ofMontreuil's, what wonder that he should be staggered,--should hesitateand yield? Montreuil obtained, then, whatever sums he required; andthrough Gerald's influence, pecuniary and political, procured fromthe minister a tacit permission for him to remain in England, underan assumed name and in close retirement. Since then, Montreuil (thoughsecretly involved in treasonable practices) had appeared to busy himselfsolely in negotiating a pardon at Paris. Gerald had lived the life of aman who, if he has parted with peace of conscience, will make the bestof the bargain by procuring every kind of pleasure in exchange; and _lepetit_ Jean Desmarais, useful to both priest and spendthrift, hadpassed his time very agreeably,--laughing at his employers, studyingphilosophy, and filling his pockets; for I need scarcely add that Geraldforgave him without much difficulty for his share in the forgery. A man,as Oswald shrewdly observed, is seldom inexorable to those crimes bywhich he has profited. "And where lurks Montreuil now?" I asked; "in theneighbourhood of Devereux Court?"
Oswald looked at me with some surprise. "How learned you that, Sir?It is true. He lives quietly and privately in that vicinity. The woodsaround the house, the caves in the beach, and the little isle oppositethe castle, afford him in turn an asylum; and the convenience with whichcorrespondence with France can be there carried on makes the scene ofhis retirement peculiarly adapted to his purpose."
I now began to question Oswald respecting himself; for I was not warmlyinclined to place implicit trust in the services of a man who had beforeshown himself at once mercenary and timid. There was little cant ordisguise about that gentleman; he made few pretences to virtues whichhe did not possess; and he seemed now, both by wine and familiarity,peculiarly disposed to be frank. It was he who in Italy (among variousother and less private commissions) had been appointed by Montreuil towatch over Aubrey; on my brother's death he had hastened to England, notonly to apprise Montreuil of that event, but charged with some especialorders to him from certain members of the Institute. He had foundMontreuil busy, restless, intriguing, even in seclusion, and cheered bya recent promise, from Fleuri himself, that he should speedily obtainpardon and recall. It was, at this part of Oswald's story, easy toperceive the causes of his renewed confidence in me. Montreuil, engagedin new plans and schemes, at once complicated and vast, paid but aslight attention to the wrecks of his past projects. Aubrey dead, myselfabroad, Gerald at his command,--he perceived, in our house, no causefor caution or alarm. This, apparently, rendered him less careful ofretaining the venal services of Oswald than his knowledge of charactershould have made him; and when that gentleman, then in London,accidentally heard of my sudden arrival in this country, he at onceperceived how much more to his interest it would be to serve me than tomaintain an ill-remunerated fidelity to Montreuil. In fact, as I havesince learned, the priest's discretion was less to blame than I thenimagined; for Oswald was of a remarkably impudent, profligate, andspendthrift turn; and his demands for money were considerably greaterthan the value of his services; or perhaps, as Montreuil t
hought, whenAubrey no longer lived, than the consequence of his silence. When,therefore, I spoke seriously to my new ally of my desire of wreakingultimate justice on the crimes of Montreuil, I found that his zeal wasfar from being chilled by my determination,--nay, the very cowardiceof the man made him ferocious; and the moment he resolved to betrayMontreuil, his fears for the priest's vengeance made him eagerto destroy where he betrayed. I am not addicted to unnecessaryprocrastination. Of the unexpected evidence I had found I was most eagerto avail myself. I saw at once how considerably Oswald's testimony wouldlessen any difficulty I might have in an explanation with Gerald, aswell as in bringing Montreuil to justice: and the former measure seemedto me necessary to insure, or at least to expedite, the latter. Iproposed, therefore, to Oswald, that he should immediately accompanyme to the house in which Gerald was then a visitor; the honest Marie,conditioning only for another bottle, which he termed a travellingcomforter, readily acceded to my wish. I immediately procured a chaiseand horses; and in less than two hours from the time we entered the innwe were on the road to Gerald. What an impulse to the wheel of destinyhad the event of that one day given!
At another time, I might have gleaned amusement from the shrewd rogueryof my companion, but he found me then but a dull listener. I served him,in truth, as men of his stamp are ordinarily served: so soon as I hadextracted from him whatever was meet for present use, I favoured himwith little further attention. He had exhausted all the communicationsit was necessary for me to know; so, in the midst of a long story aboutItaly, Jesuits, and the wisdom of Marie Oswald, I affected to fallasleep; my companion soon followed my example in earnest, and left me tomeditate, undisturbed, over all that I had heard, and over the schemesnow the most promising of success. I soon taught myself to look with alenient eye on Gerald's after-connivance in Montreuil's forgery; and Ifelt that I owed to my surviving brother so large an arrear of affectionfor the long injustice I had rendered him that I was almost pleasedto find something set upon the opposite score. All men, perhaps, wouldrather forgive than be forgiven. I resolved, therefore, to affectignorance of Gerald's knowledge of the forgery; and, even should heconfess it, to exert all my art to steal from the confession its shame.From this train of reflection my mind soon directed itself to one farfiercer and more intense; and I felt my heart pause, as if congealinginto marble, when I thought of Montreuil and anticipated justice.
It was nearly noon on the following day when we arrived at Lord------'shouse. We found that Gerald had left it the day before, for theenjoyment of the field-sports at Devereux Court, and thither weinstantly proceeded.
It has often seemed to me that if there be, as certain ancientphilosophers fabled, one certain figure pervading all nature, human anduniversal, it is _the circle_. Round, in one vast monotony, one eternalgyration, roll the orbs of space. Thus moves the spirit of creativelife, kindling, progressing, maturing, decaying, perishing, reviving androlling again, and so onward forever through the same course; and thuseven would seem to revolve the mysterious mechanism of human eventsand actions. Age, ere it returns to "the second childishness, themere oblivion" from which it passes to the grave, returns also to thememories and the thoughts of youth: its buried loves arise; its pastfriendships rekindle. The wheels of the tired machine are pastthe meridian, and the arch through which they now decline has acorrespondent likeness to the opposing segment through which they hadborne upward in eagerness and triumph. Thus it is, too, that we bearwithin us an irresistible attraction to our earliest home. Thus it isthat we say, "It matters not where our midcourse is run, but we will_die_ in the place where we were born,--in the point of space whence_began_ the circle, there also shall _it end_!" This is the grandorbit through which Mortality passes only once; but the same figure maypervade all through which it moves on its journey to the grave. Thus,one peculiar day of the round year has been to some an era, alwayscolouring life with an event. Thus, to others, some peculiar place hasbeen the theatre of strange action, influencing all existence, whenever,in the recurrence of destiny, that place has been revisited. Thus wasit said by an arch-sorcerer of old, whose labours yet exist,--thoughperhaps, at the moment I write, there are not three living beings whoknow of their existence,--that there breathes not that man who wouldnot find, did he minutely investigate the events of life, that, in somefixed and distinct spot or hour or person, there lived, though shroudedand obscure, the pervading demon of his fate; and whenever, in theirseveral paths, the two circles of being touched, that moment made theunnoticed epoch of coming prosperity or evil. I remember well that thisbewildering yet not unsolemn reflection, or rather fancy, was in mymind, as, after the absence of many years, I saw myself hastening to thehome of my boyhood, and cherishing the fiery hope of there avenging thedoom of that love which I had there conceived. Deeply, and in silence,did I brood over the dark shapes which my thoughts engendered; and Iwoke not from my revery, till, as the gray of the evening closed aroundus, we entered the domains of Devereux Court. The road was rough andstony, and the horses moved slowly on. How familiar was everythingbefore me! The old pollards which lay scattered in dense groups oneither side, and which had lived on from heir to heir, secure in thelittle temptation they afforded to cupidity, seemed to greet me witha silent but intelligible welcome. Their leaves fell around us in theautumn air, and the branches as they waved towards me seemed to say,"Thou art returned, and thy change is like our own: the green leaves of_thy_ heart have fallen from thee one by one; like us thou survivest,but thou art desolate!" The hoarse cry of the rooks, gathering to theirrest, came fraught with the music of young associations on my ear. Manya time in the laughing spring had I lain in these groves, watching, inthe young brood of those citizens of air, a mark for my childish skilland careless disregard of life. We acquire mercy as we acquire thought:I would not _now_ have harmed one of those sable creatures for a king'sransom!
As we cleared the more wooded belt of the park, and entered the smoothspace, on which the trees stood alone and at rarer intervals, while thered clouds, still tinged with the hues of the departed sun, hoveredon the far and upland landscape,--like Hope flushing over Futurity,--amellowed yet rapid murmur, distinct from the more distant dashing of thesea, broke abruptly upon my ear. It was the voice of that brook whosebanks had been the dearest haunt of my childhood; and now, as it burstthus suddenly upon me, I longed to be alone, that I might have boweddown my head and wept as if it had been the welcome of a living thing!At once, and as by a word, the hardened lava, the congealed stream ofthe soul's Etna, was uplifted from my memory, and the bowers andpalaces of old, the world of a gone day, lay before me! With how wild anenthusiasm had I apostrophized that stream on the day in which I firstresolved to leave its tranquil regions and fragrant margin for thetempest and tumult of the world. On that same eve, too, had Aubrey and Itaken sweet counsel together; on that same eve had we sworn to protect,to love, and to cherish one another!--AND NOW!--I saw the very moundon which we had sat,--a solitary deer made it his couch, and, as thecarriage approached, the deer rose, and then I saw that he had beenwounded, perhaps in some contest with his tribe, and that he couldscarcely stir from the spot. I turned my face away, and the remainsof my ancestral house rose gradually in view. That house was indeedchanged; a wide and black heap of ruins spread around; the vast hall,with its oaken rafters and huge hearth, was no more,--I missed _that_,and I cared not for the rest. The long galleries, the superb chambers,the scenes of revelry or of pomp, were like the court companionswho amuse, yet attach us not; but the hall, the old hall,--the old,hospitable hall,--had been as a friend in all seasons, and to allcomers, and its mirth had been as open to all as the heart of its lastowner! My eyes wandered from the place where it had been, and the tall,lone, gray tower, consecrated to my ill-fated namesake, and in which myown apartments had been situated, rose like the last of a warrior band,stern, gaunt, and solitary, over the ruins around.
The carriage now passed more rapidly over the neglected road, and woundwhere the ruins, cleared on either side, permitted acc
ess to the tower.In two minutes more I was in the same chamber with my only survivingbrother. Oh, why--why can I not dwell upon that scene, that embrace,that reconciliation?--alas! the wound is not yet scarred over.
I found Gerald, at first, haughty and sullen; he expected my reproachesand defiance,--against them he was hardened; he was not prepared for myprayers for our future friendship, and my grief for our past enmity, andhe melted at once!
But let me hasten over this. I had well-nigh forgot that, at the closeof my history, I should find one remembrance so endearing, and onepang so keen. Rapidly I sketched to Gerald the ill fate of Aubrey; butlingeringly did I dwell upon Montreuil's organized and most banefulinfluence over him, and over us all; and I endeavoured to arouse inGerald some sympathy with my own deep indignation against that villain.I succeeded so far as to make him declare that he was scarcely lessdesirous of justice than myself; but there was an embarrassment inhis tone of which I was at no loss to perceive the cause. To accuseMontreuil publicly of his forgery might ultimately bring to lightGerald's latter knowledge of the fraud. I hastened to say that therewas now no necessity to submit to a court of justice a scrutiny into ourprivate, gloomy, and eventful records. No, from Oswald's communicationsI had learned enough to prove that Bolingbroke had been truly informed,and that Montreuil had still, and within the few last weeks, been deeplyinvolved in schemes of treason, full proof of which could be adduced,far more than sufficient to insure his death by the public executioner.Upon this charge I proposed at the nearest town (the memorable seaportof------) to accuse him, and to obtain a warrant for his immediateapprehension; upon this charge I proposed alone to proceed against him,and by it alone to take justice upon his more domestic crimes.
My brother yielded at last his consent to my suggestions. "Iunderstand," said I, "that Montreuil lurks in the neighbourhood of theseruins, or in the opposite islet. Know you if he has made his asylum ineither at this present time?"
"No, my brother," answered Gerald, "but I have reason to believe thathe is in our immediate vicinity, for I received a letter from him threedays ago, when at Lord------'s, urging a request that I would give him ameeting here, at my earliest leisure, previous to his leaving England."
"Has he really then obtained permission to return to France?"
"Yes," replied Gerald, "he informed me in this letter that he had justreceived intelligence of his pardon."
"May it fit him the better," said I, with a stern smile, "for a morelasting condemnation. But if this be true we have not a moment to lose:a man so habitually vigilant and astute will speedily learn my visithither, and forfeit even his appointment with you, should he, which islikely enough, entertain any suspicion of our reconciliation with eachother; moreover, he may hear that the government have discoveredhis designs, and may instantly secure the means of flight. Let me,therefore, immediately repair to------, and obtain a warrant againsthim, as well as officers to assist our search. In the meanwhile youshall remain here, and detain him, should he visit you; but where isthe accomplice?--let us seize _him_ instantly, for I conclude he is withyou."
"What, Desmarais?" rejoined Gerald. "Yes, he is the only servant,besides the old portress, which these poor ruins will allow me toentertain in the same dwelling with myself; the rest of my suite areleft behind at Lord------'s. But Desmarais is not now within; he wentout about two hours ago."
"Ha!" said I, "in all likelihood to meet the priest; shall we wait hisreturn, and extort some information of Montreuil's lurking-hole?"
Before Gerald could answer, we heard a noise without, and presentlyI distinguished the bland tones of the hypocritical Fatalist, in softexpostulation with the triumphant voice of Mr. Marie Oswald. I hastenedout, and discovered that the lay-brother, whom I left in the chaise,having caught a glimpse of the valet gliding among the ruins, hadrecognized, seized, and by the help of the postilions, dragged himto the door of the tower. The moment Desmarais saw me he ceased tostruggle: he met my eye with a steady but not disrespectful firmness;he changed not even the habitual hue of his countenance,--he remainedperfectly still in the hands of his arresters; and if there was anyvestige of his mind discoverable in his sallow features and glitteringeye, it was not the sign of fear, or confusion, or even surprise; but aready promptness to meet danger, coupled, perhaps, with a little doubtwhether to defy or to seek first to diminish it.
Long did I gaze upon him,--struggling with internal rage and loathing,the mingled contempt and desire of destruction with which we gazeupon the erect aspect of some small but venomous and courageousreptile,--long did I gaze upon him before I calmed and collected myvoice to speak:
"So I have _thee_ at last! First comes the base tool, and that will Ifirst break, before I lop off the guiding hand."
"So please Monsieur my Lord the Count," answered Desmarais, bowing tothe ground, "the tool is a file, and it would be useless to bite againstit."
"We will see that," said I, drawing my sword; "prepare to die!" and Ipointed the blade to his throat with so sudden and menacing a gesturethat his eyes closed involuntarily, and the blood left his thin cheek aswhite as ashes: but he shrank not.
"If Monsieur," said he, with a sort of smile, "will kill his poor,old, faithful servant, let him strike. Fate is not to be resisted; andprayers are useless!"
"Oswald," said I, "release your prisoner; wait here, and keep strictwatch. Jean Desmarais, follow me!"
I ascended the stairs, and Desmarais followed. "Now," I said, when hewas alone with Gerald and myself, "your days are numbered: you willfall; not by my hand, but by that of the executioner. Not only yourforgery, but your robbery, your abetment of murder, are known to me;your present lord, with an indignation equal to my own, surrenders youto justice. Have you aught to urge, not in defence--for to that I willnot listen--but in atonement? _Can_ you now commit any act whichwill cause me to forego justice on those which you _have_ committed?"Desmarais hesitated. "Speak," said I. He raised his eyes to mine with aninquisitive and wistful look.
"Monsieur," said the wretch, with his obsequious smile, "Monsieur hastravelled, has shone, has succeeded; Monsieur must have made enemies:let him name them, and his poor, old, _faithful_ servant will do hisbest to become the humble instrument of their _fate_!"
Gerald drew himself aside, and shuddered. Perhaps till then he had notbeen fully aware how slyly murder, as well as fraud, can lurk beneathurbane tones and laced ruffles.
"I have no enemy," said I, "but one; and the hangman will do my officeupon him; but point out to me the exact spot where at this moment he isconcealed, and you shall have full leave to quit this country forever.That enemy is Julian Montreuil!"
"Ah, ah!" said Desmarais, musingly, and in a tone very different fromthat in which he usually spoke; "must it be so, indeed? For twenty yearsof youth and manhood I have clung to that man, and woven my destinywith his, because I believed him born under the star which shines onstatesmen and pontiffs. Does dread Necessity now impel me to betrayhim?--him, the only man I ever loved. So--so--so! Count Devereux, strikeme to the core: I will _not_ betray Bertrand Collinot!"
"Mysterious heart of man!" I exclaimed inly, as I gazed upon the lowbrow, the malignant eye, the crafty lip of this wretch, who stillretained one generous and noble sentiment at the bottom of so base abreast. But if it sprang there, it only sprang to wither!
"As thou wilt," said I; "remember, death is the alternative. By thybirth-star, Jean Desmarais, I should question whether perfidy be not_better luck_ than hanging: but time speeds; farewell; I shall meet theeon thy day of trial."
I turned to the door to summon Oswald to his prisoner. Desmarais rousedhimself from the revery in which he appeared to have sunk.
"Why do I doubt?" said he, slowly. "Were the alternative his, would henot hang me as he would hang his dog if it went mad and menaced danger?My very noble and merciful master," continued the Fatalist, turning tome, and relapsing into his customary manner, "it is enough! I can refusenothing to a gentleman who has such insinuating manners. Montreuil _maybe_ in you
r power this night; but that rests solely with me. If I speaknot, a few hours will place him irrevocably beyond your reach. If Ibetray him to you, will Monsieur swear that I shall have my pardon forpast _errors_?"
"On condition of leaving England," I answered, for slight was mycomparative desire of justice against Desmarais; and since I had agreedwith Gerald not to bring our domestic records to the glare of day,justice against Desmarais was not easy of attainment; while, on theother hand, so precarious seemed the chance of discovering Montreuilbefore he left England, without certain intelligence of his movements,that I was willing to forego any less ardent feeling, for the speedygratification of that which made the sole surviving passion of myexistence.
"Be it so," rejoined Desmarais; "there is better wine in France! AndMonsieur my present master, Monsieur Gerald, will you too pardon yourpoor Desmarais for his proof of the great attachment he always bore toyou?"
"Away, wretch!" cried Gerald, shrinking back; "your villany taints thevery air!"
Desmarais lifted his eyes to heaven, with a look of appealing innocence;but I was wearied with this odious farce.
"The condition is made," said I: "remember, it only holds good ifMontreuil's person is placed in our power. Now explain."
"This night, then," answered Desmarais, "Montreuil proposes to leaveEngland by means of a French privateer, or pirate, if that word pleaseyou better. Exactly at the hour of twelve, he will meet some of thesailors upon the seashore, by the Castle Cave; thence they proceed inboats to the islet, off which the pirate's vessel awaits them. If youwould seize Montreuil, you must provide a force adequate to conquer thecompanions he will meet. The rest is with you; my part is fulfilled."
"Remember! I repeat if this be one of thy inventions, thou wilt hang."
"I have said what is true," said Desmarais, bitterly; "and were not lifeso very pleasant to me, I would sooner have met the rack."
I made no reply; but, summoning Oswald, surrendered Desmarais to hischarge. I then held a hasty consultation with Gerald, whose mind,however, obscured by feelings of gloomy humiliation, and stunned perhapsby the sudden and close following order of events, gave me but littleassistance in my projects. I observed his feelings with great pain;but that was no moment for wrestling with them. I saw that I could notdepend upon his vigorous co-operation; and that even if Montreuil soughthim, he might want the presence of mind and the energy to detain myenemy. I changed therefore the arrangement we had first proposed.
"I will remain here," said I, "and I will instruct the old portress toadmit to me any one who seeks audience with you. Meanwhile, Oswald andyourself, if you will forgive, and grant my request to that purport,will repair to------, and informing the magistrate of our intelligence,procure such armed assistance as may give battle to the pirates, shouldthat be necessary, and succeed in securing Montreuil; the assistancemay be indispensable; at all events, it will be prudent to secure it:perhaps for Oswald alone, the magistrates would not use that zeal andexpedition which a word _of yours_ can command."
"Of mine?" said Gerald, "say rather of yours; you are the lord of thesebroad lands!"
"Never, my dearest brother, shall they pass to me from their presentowner: but let us hasten now to execute justice; we will talk afterwardsof friendship."
I then sought Oswald, who, if a physical coward, was morally a ready,bustling, and prompt man; and I felt that I could rely more upon himthan I could at that moment upon Gerald. I released him therefore of hischarge, and made Desmarais a close prisoner in the inner apartment ofthe tower. I then gave Oswald the most earnest injunctions to procurethe assistance we might require, and to return with it as expeditiouslyas possible; and cheered by the warmth and decision of his answer, Isaw him depart with Gerald, and felt my heart beat high with theanticipation of midnight and retribution.