CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
You will proceed in pleasure and in pride. Beloved, and loving: all is o'er For me on earth, except some years to hide My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core. "DON JUAN."
I paid little attention to the performance, for the moment I came to thehouse, my eyes were riveted on an object from which I found itimpossible to remove them. "It is," said I, "and yet it cannot be; andyet why should it not?" A young lady sat in one of the boxes; she waselegantly attired, and seemed to occupy the united attentions of manyFrenchmen, who eagerly caught her smiles.
"Either that is Eugenia," thought I, "or I have fallen asleep in theruins of St. Jago, and am dreaming of her. That is Eugenia, or I am notFrank. It is she, or it is her ghost!" Still I had not that moralcertainty of the identity, as to enable me to go at once to her andaddress her. Indeed, had I been certain, all things considered, thesituation we were in would have rendered such a step highly improper.
"If that be Eugenia," thought I again, "she has improved both in mannerand person. She has a becoming _embonpoint_, and an air _de bonnesociete_, which when we parted she had not."
The more intensely I gazed, the more convinced was I that I was right;the immovable devotion of my eyes attracted the attention of a Frenchofficer, who sat near me.
"_C'est une jolie femme, n'est-ce pas; monsieur_?"
"_Vraiment_," said I. "Do you know her name?"
"_Elle s'appelle Madame de Rosenberg_."
"Then I am wrong after all," said I to myself. "Has she a husband,sir?"
"_Pardonnez-moi, elle est veuve, mais elle a un petit garcon de cinqans, beau comme un ange_."
"That is she," said I, again reviving. "Is she a French woman?"
"_Du tout, monsieur, elle est une de vos compatriotes; et en est un fortjoli exemplaire_."
She had only been three months at Bordeaux, and had refused many verygood offers in marriage. Such was the information I obtained from myobliging neighbour; and I was now convinced that Madame de Rosenbergcould be no other than Eugenia. Every endeavour to catch her eye provedabortive. My only hope was to follow the carriage.
When the play was over, I waited with an impatience like that of aspirited hunter who hears the hounds. At last, the infernal squallingof the vocalists ceased, but not before I had devoutly wished that allthe wax candles in the house were down their throats and burning there.I saw one of the gentlemen in the box placing the shawl over hershoulders with the most careful attention, while the bystanders seemedready to tear him in pieces from envy. I hurried to the door, and sawher handed into her carriage, which drove off at a great pace. I ranafter it, jumped up behind, and took my station by the side of thefootman.
"_Descendez donc, monsieur_!" said the man.
"I'll be damned if I do," said I.
"_Comment donc_?" said the man.
"_Tais-toi, bete_," said I, "_ou je te brulerai la cervelle_."
"_Vous foutez_," said the man, who behaved very well, and instantlybegan to remove me _vi et armis_; but I planted a stomacher in his fifthbutton, which I knew would put him _hors de combat_ for a few minutes,and by that time, at the rate the carriage was driving, my purpose wouldhave been answered. The fellow lost his breath--could not hold on orspeak--so tumbled off and lay in the middle of the road.
As he fell upon dry ground and was not an English sailor, I did not jumpafter him, but left him to his own ease, and we saw no more of him, forwe were going ten knots, while he lay becalmed without a breath of wind.This was one of the most successful acts of usurpation recorded inmodern history. It has its parallels, I know; but I cannot now stop tocomment on them, or on my own folly and precipitation. I was as firmlyfixed behind the carriage, as Buonaparte was on the throne of Franceafter the battle of Eylau.
We stopped at a large _porte cochere_, being the entrance to a verygrand house, with lamps at the door, within a spacious courtyard; wedrove in and drew up. I was down in a moment, opened the carriage door,and let down the steps. The lady descended, laid her hand on my armwithout perceiving that she had changed her footman, and tripped lightlyup the stairs. I followed her into a handsome saloon, where anotherservant in livery had placed lights on the table. She turned round, sawme, and fainted in my arms.
It was, indeed, Eugenia herself; and with all due respect to my dearEmily, I borrowed a thousand kisses while she lay in a state of torpor,on a fauteuil to which I carried her. It was some few minutes beforeshe opened her eyes; the man-servant who had brought the lights, veryproperly never quitted the room, but was perfectly respectful in hismanner, rightly conceiving that I had some authority for my proceedings.
"My dearest Frank," said Eugenia, "what an unexpected meeting. What, inthe name of fortune, could have brought you here?"
"That," said I, "is a story too long, Eugenia, for a moment sointeresting as this. I also might ask you the same question; but it isnow one o'clock in the morning, and, therefore, too late to begin withinquiry. This one question, however, I must ask--are you a mother?"
"I am," said Eugenia, "of the most lovely boy that ever blessed the eyesof a parent; he is now in perfect health, and fast asleep--cometo-morrow, at ten o'clock, and you shall see him."
"To-morrow," said I, with surprise; "to-morrow, Eugenia? why am I toquit your house?"
"That also you shall know to-morrow," said she; "but now you must do asyou are desired. To-morrow, I will be at home to no one but you."
Knowing Eugenia as I did, it was sufficient that she had decided. Therewas no appeal; so, kissing her again, I wished her a good night, quittedher, and retired to my hotel. What a night of tumult did I pass! I wastossed from Emily to Eugenia, like a shuttlecock between twobattledores. The latter never looked so lovely; and to the naturalloveliness of her person was added a grace and a polish which gave alustre to her charms, which almost served Emily as I had served thefootman I never once closed my eyes during the night--dressed early thenext morning, walked about, looked at Chateau Trompette and the Romanruins--thought the hour of ten would never strike, and when it did, Istruck the same moment at her door.
The man who opened it to me was the same whom I had treated so ill thenight before; the moment he saw me, he put himself into an attitude atonce of attack, defence, remonstrance, and revenge, all connected withthe affair of the preceding evening.
"_Ah, ah, vous voila donc! ce n'etait pas bien fait, monsieur_."
"_Oui_," said I, "_tres nettement fait, et voila encore_," slipping aNapoleon into his hand.
"_Ca s'arrange tres joliment, monsieur_," said the man, grinning fromear to ear, and bowing to the ground. "_C'est madame que vous voulezdonc_?"
"_Oui_," said I.
He led, I followed; he opened the door of a breakfast parlour--"_Tenez,madame, voici le monsieur qui m'a renverse hier au soir_."
Eugenia was seated on a sofa, with her boy by her side, the loveliestlittle fellow I had ever beheld. His face was one often described, butrarely seen; it was shaded with dark curling ringlets, his mouth, eyes,and complexion had much of his mother, and vanity whispered me, muchmore of myself. I took a seat on the sofa, and with the boy on my knee,and Eugenia by my side, held her hand, while she narrated the events ofher life since the time of our separation.
"A few days," said she, "after your departure for the Flushingexpedition, I read in the public prints, that `if the nearest relationsof my mother would call at, in London, they would hear of something totheir advantage.' I wrote to the agent, from whom I learned, afterproving my identity, that the two sisters of my mother, who, you mayremember, had like sums left them by the will of their relative, hadcontinued to live in a state of single blessedness; that, about fouryears previously, one of them had died, leaving everything to the other,and that the other had died only two months before, bequeathing all herproperty to my mother or her next heir; or, in default of that, to somedistant relation. I therefore immediately came into a fortune of tenthousand pounds, with interest; and I was further inf
ormed that a greatuncle of mine was still living, without heirs, and was most anxious thatmy mother or her heirs should be discovered. An invitation wastherefore sent to me to go down to him, and to make his house my futureresidence.
"At that time the effects of my indiscretion were but too apparent, andrendered, as I thought, deception justifiable. I put on widow's weeds,and gave out that my husband was a young officer, who had fallen avictim to the fatal Walcheren fever; that our marriage had beenclandestine, and unknown to any of his friends: such was my story andappearance before the agent, who believed me. The same fabrication wasput upon my grand-uncle, with equal success. I was received into hishouse with parental affection; and in that house I gave birth to thedear child you now hold in your arms--to your child, my Frank--to theonly child I shall ever have. Yes, dear Eugenia," continued she,pressing her rosy lips on the broad white neck of the child, "you shallbe my only care, my solace, my comfort, and my joy. Heaven, in itsmercy, sent the cherub to console its wretched mother in the doublepangs of guilt and separation from all she loved; and Heaven shall berepaid, by my return to its slighted, its insulted laws. I feel that mysin is forgiven; for I have besought forgiveness night and day, withbitter tears, and Heaven has heard my prayer. `Go and sin no more,' wassaid to me: and upon these terms I have received forgiveness.
"You will no doubt ask why did I not let you know all this, and why I socarefully secreted myself from you. My reasons were founded on theknown impetuosity of your character. You, my beloved, who could bravedeath, and all the military consequences of desertion from a ship lyingat Spithead, were not likely to listen to the suggestions of prudencewhen Eugenia was to be found; and, having once given out that I was awidow, I resolved to preserve the consistency of my character for my ownsake--for your sake, and for the sake of this blessed child, the onlydrop that has sweetened my cup of affliction. Had you by any meansdiscovered my place of abode, the peace of my uncle's house, and theprospects of my child, had been for ever blasted.
"Now then, say, Frank, have I, or have I not, acted the part of a Romanmother? My grand-uncle having declared his intention of making me heirto his property, for his sake, and yours, and for my child, I havepreserved the strict line of duty, from which God, in his infinitemercy, grant that I may never depart!
"I first resolved upon not seeing you until I could be more my ownmistress; and when, at the death of my respected relative, I was notonly released from any restraint on account of his feelings, but alsobecame still more independent in my circumstances, you might besurprised that I did not immediately impart to you the change of fortunewhich would have enabled us to have enjoyed the comfort of unrestrictedcommunication. But time, reflection, the conversation and society of myuncle and his select friends, the care of my infant, and the reading ofmany excellent books had wrought a great change in my sentiments.Having once tasted the pleasures of society among virtuous women, Ivowed to Heaven that no future act of mine should ever drive me from it.The past could not be recalled; but the future was my own.
"I took the sacrament after a long and serious course of reading; and,having made my vows at the altar, with the help of God, they areunchangeable. Dramatic works, the pernicious study and poison of myyouthful ardent mind, I have long since discarded; and I had resolvednever to see you again, until after your marriage with Miss Somervillehad been solemnised. Start not! By the simplest and easiest means Ihave known all your movements--your dangers, your escapes, yourundaunted acts of bravery and self-devotion for the sake of others.
"`Shall I then,' said I to myself, `blast the prospects of the man Ilove--the father of my boy? Shall I, to gratify the poor, pitifulambition of becoming the wife of him to whom I once was the mistress,sacrifice thus the hopes and fortune of himself and family, the rewardof a virtuous maiden?' In all this I hope you will perceive a propershare of self-denial. Many, many floods of bitter tears of repentanceand regret have I shed over my past conduct; and I trust, that what Ihave suffered and what I shall suffer, will be received as my atonementat the Throne of Grace. True, I once looked forward to the happy periodof our union, when I might have offered myself to you, not as aportionless bride; but I was checked by one maddening, burning,inextinguishable thought. I could not be received into that society towhich you were entitled. I felt that I loved you, Frank,--loved you toowell to betray you. The woman that had so little respect for herselfwas unfit to be the wife of Francis Mildmay.
"Besides, how could I do my sweet boy the injustice to allow him to havebrothers and sisters possessing legitimate advantages over him? I feltthat our union never could be one of happiness, even if you consented totake me as your wife, of which I had my doubts; and when I discovered,through my emissaries, that you were on the point of marriage with MissSomerville, I felt that it was all for the best; that I had no right tocomplain; the more so as it was I who (I blush to say it) had seducedyou.
"But Frank, if I cannot be your wife--and, alas! I know too well thatthat is impossible--will you allow me to be your friend, your dearfriend, as the mother of your child, or, if you please, as your sister?But there the sacred line is drawn; it is a compact between my God andmyself. You know my firmness and decision; once maturely deliberated,my resolution formed, it is not, I think, in man to turn me. Do not,therefore, make the attempt; it will only end in your certain defeat andshame, and in my withdrawing from your sight for ever. You will not, Iam sure, pay me so bad a compliment as to wish me to renew the folliesof my youth. If you love me, respect me, promise by the love you bearto Miss Somerville, and your affection for this poor boy, that you willdo as I wish you. Your honour and peace of mind, as well as mine,demand it."
This severe rebuke from a quarter whence I least expected it, threw meback with shame and confusion. As if a mirror had been held up to me, Isaw my own deformity. I saw that Eugenia was not only the guardian ofher own honour, but of mine, and of the happiness of Miss Somerville,against whom I now stood convicted of foul deceit and shameful wrong. Iacknowledged my fault; I assured Eugenia that I was bound to her byevery tie of honour, esteem, and love; and that her boy and mine shouldbe our mutual care.
"Thank you, dearest," said she; "you have taken a heavy load from mymind: henceforth remember we are brother and sister. I shall now beable to enjoy the pleasure of your society; and now as that point issettled, let me know what has occurred to you since we parted--theparticulars, I mean, for the outline I have heard before."
I related to her everything which had happened to me, from the hour ofour separation to the moment I saw her so unexpectedly in the theatre.She was alternately affected with terror, surprise, and laughter. Shetook a hearty crying spell over the motionless bodies of Clara andEmily, as they lay on the floor; but recovered from that, and went intohysterics of laughter, when I described the footman's mistake, and theslap on the face bestowed on him by the housemaid.
My mind was not naturally corrupt; it was only so at times, and frompeculiar circumstances; but I was always generous, and easily recalledto a sense of my duty when reminded of my fault. Not for an empirewould I have persuaded Eugenia to break her vow. I loved and respectedthe mother of my child; the more when I reflected that she had been themeans of preserving my fidelity to Emily. I rejoiced to think that myfriendship for the one, and love for the other, were not incompatible.I wrote immediately to Emily, announcing my speedy return to England.
"Having the most perfect reliance on your honour, I shall now," saidEugenia, "accept your escort to London, where my presence is required.Pierre shall accompany us--he is a faithful creature, though you haveused him so ill."
"That," said I, "is all made up, and Pierre will be heartily glad ofanother tumble for the same price."
All our arrangements were speedily made. The house was given up--aroomy travelling-barouche received all our trunks and, seated by theside of Eugenia, with the child between us we crossed the Gironde, andtook our way through Poictiers, Tours, and Orleans, to Paris; here weremained but a
short time. Neither of us was pleased with the mannersand habits of the French; but as they have been so fully described bythe swarms of English travellers who have infested that country withtheir presence, and this with the fruits of their labours, I shall passas quietly through France, as I hope to do through the Thames Tunnel,when it is completed, but not before.
Eugenia consulted me as to her future residence; and here I own Icommitted a great error, but, I declare to Heaven, without any criminalintention. I ventured to suggest that she should live in a very prettyvillage a few miles from --- Hall, the residence of Mr Somerville, andwhere, after my marriage, it was intended I should continue to residewith Emily. To this village, then, I directed her to go assuring herthat I should often ride over and visit her.
"Much as I should enjoy your company, Frank," said Eugenia, "this is ameasure fraught with evil to all parties; nor is it fair dealing towardsyour future wife."
Unhappily for me, that turn for duplicity which I had imbibed in earlylife had not forsaken me, notwithstanding the warnings I had receivedand the promises of amendment which I had made. Flattering myself thatI intended no harm, I overruled all the scruples of the excellentEugenia. She despatched a confidential person to the village; on theoutskirts of which he procured for her a commodious, and even elegantcottage _orne_, ready furnished. She went down with her child andPierre to take possession; and I to my father's house, where myappearance was hailed as a signal for a grand jubilee.
Clara, I found, had entirely changed her unfavourable opinion ofsea-officers induced thereto by the engaging manners of my friendTalbot, on whom I was delighted to learn she was about to bestow hervery pretty little white hand at the altar. This was a great triumph tothe navy, for I always told Clara, laughingly, that I never wouldforgive her if she quitted the service; and as I entertained the highestrespect for Talbot, I considered the prospects of my sister were verybright and flattering, and that she had made a choice very likely tosecure her happiness.
"Rule Britannia," said I to Clara; "Blue for ever!"
The next morning I started for Mr Somerville's, where I was, of course,received with open arms; and the party, a few days after, having beenincreased by the arrival of my father, with Clara and Talbot, I was ashappy as a human being could be. Six weeks was the period assigned bymy fair one as the very shortest in which she could get rigged, bend newsails, and prepare for the long and sometimes tedious voyage ofmatrimony. I remonstrated at the unconscionable delay.
"Long as it may appear," said she, "it is much less time than you tookto fit out your fine frigate for North America."
"That frigate was not got ready even then by any hurry of mine," said I;"and if ever I come to be First Lord of the Admiralty, I shall have abright eye on the young lieutenants and their sweethearts at Blackheath,particularly when a ship is fitting in a hurry at Woolwich."
Much of this kind of sparring went on, to the great amusement of allparties; meanwhile the ladies employed themselves in running upmilliners' bills, and their papas employed themselves in dischargingthem. My father was particularly liberal to Emily in the articles ofplate and jewellery, and Mr Somerville equally kind to Clara. Emilyreceived a trinket-box, so beautifully fitted and so well filled, thatit required a cheque of no trifling magnitude to cry quits with thejeweller; indeed, my father's kindness was so great that I was forced tobeg he would set some bounds to his liberality.
I was so busy and so happy that I had let three weeks pass over my headwithout seeing Eugenia. I dreamed of her at last, and thought sheupbraided me; and the next day, full of my dream, as soon as breakfastwas over, I recommended the young ladies to the care of Talbot, and,mounting my horse, rode over to see Eugenia. She received me kindly,but she had suffered in her health, and was much out of spirits. Iinquired the reason, and she burst into tears. "I shall be better,Frank," said she, "when all is over, but I must suffer now; and I sufferthe more acutely from a conviction that I am only paying the penalty ofmy own crime. Perhaps," continued she, "had I never departed fromvirtue, I might at this moment have held in your heart the envied placeof Miss Somerville; but as the righteous decrees of Providence haveprovided punishment to tread fast in the footsteps of guilt, I am nowexpiating my faults, and I have a presentiment that although thestruggle is bitter, it will soon be over. God's will be done; and mayyou, my dear Frank, have many, many happy years in the society of oneyou are bound to love before the unhappy Eugenia."
Here she sank on a sofa, and again wept bitterly.
"I feel," said she, "now, but it is too late--I feel that I have actedwrongly in quitting Bordeaux. There I was loved and respected; and ifnot happy, at least I was composed. Too much dependence on myresolution, and the vanity of supposing myself superior in magnanimityto the rest of my sex, induced me to trust myself in your society.Dearly, alas! have I paid for it. My only chance of victory over myselfwas flight from you, after I had given the irrevocable sentence; by notdoing so, the poison has found its way to my heart. I feel that I loveyou; that I cannot have you; and that death very shortly must terminatemy intolerable sufferings."
This affecting address pierced me to the soul; and now the consequencesof my guilt and duplicity rushed upon me like a torrent through abursting flood gate. I would have resigned Emily--I would have fledwith Eugenia to some distant country, and buried our sorrows in eachother's bosoms; and, in a state of irrepressible emotion, I proposedthis step to her.
"What do I hear, my beloved?" said she, starting up with horror from thecouch on which she was sitting with her face between her knees; "what!is it you that would resign home, friends, character, the possession ofa virtuous woman, all for the polluted smiles of an--"
"Hold! hold! my Eugenia," said I; "do not, I beseech you, shock my earswith an epithet which you do not deserve! Mine, mine, is all the guilt;forget me, and you will still be happy."
She looked at me, then at her sweet boy, who was playing on the carpet--but she made no answer; and then a flood of tears succeeded.
It was, indeed, a case of singular calamity for a beautiful youngcreature to be placed in. She was only in her three-and-twentiethyear--and lovely as she was, nature had scarcely had time to finish thepicture. The regrets which subdued my mind on that fatal morning mayonly be conceived by those who, like me, have led a licentious life--have, for a time, buried all moral and religious feeling, and have beensuddenly called to a full sense of their guilt, and the misery they haveentailed on the innocent. I sat down and groaned. I cannot say I wept,for I could not weep; but my forehead burned, and my heart was full ofbitterness.
While I thus meditated, Eugenia sat with her hand on her forehead in amusing attitude. Had she been reverting to her former studies andthrown herself into the finest conceivable posture of the tragic muse,her appearance would not have been half so beautiful and affecting. Ithought she was praying, and I think so still. The tears ran in silencedown her face; I kissed them off, and almost forgot Emily.
"I am better, now, Frank," said the poor, sorrowful woman; "do not comeagain until after the wedding. When will it take place?" she inquired,with a trembling and faltering voice.
My heart almost burst within me as I told her, for I felt as if I wassigning a warrant for her execution. I took her in my arms, andtenderly embracing her, endeavoured to divert her thoughts from themournful fate that too evidently hung over her; she became tranquil, andI proposed taking a stroll in the adjoining park. I thought the freshair would revive her.
She agreed to this; and going to her room, returned in a few minutes.To her natural beauty was added on that fatal day a morning dress, whichmore than any other became her; it was white, richly trimmed, andfashionably made up by a celebrated French _artiste_. Her bonnet waswhite muslin, trimmed with light blue ribbons, and a sash of the samecolour confined her slender waist. The little Eugenio ran before us,now at my side, and now at his mother's. We rambled about for sometime, the burthen of our conversation being the future plans and mode ofeducat
ion to be adopted for the child: this was a subject on which shealways dwelt with peculiar pleasure.
Tired with our walk, we sat down under a clump of beech-trees near agrassy ascent, winding among the thick foliage, contrived by the opulentowner to extend and diversify the rides in his noble domain. Eugeniowas playing around us, picking the wild flowers, and running up to me toinquire their names.
The boy was close by my side, when, startled at a noise, he turned roundand exclaimed--"Oh! look, mamma; look, papa; there are a lady and agentleman a-riding."
I turned round, and saw Mr Somerville and Emily on horseback, withinsix paces of me; so still they stood, so mute, I could have fanciedEmily a wax-work figure. They neither breathed nor moved; even theirvery horses seemed to be of bronze, or perhaps, the unfortunatesituation in which I found myself made me think them so. They had comeas unexpectedly on us as we had discovered them. The soft turf hadreceived the impression of their horses' feet, and returned no sound;and if they snorted, we had either not attended to them, in the warmthof our conversation, or we had never heard them.
I rose up hastily--coloured deeply--stammered, and was about to speak.Perhaps it was better that I did not; but I had no opportunity. Likeapparitions they came, and like apparitions they vanished. The avenuefrom whence they had so silently issued, received them again, and theywere gone before Eugenia was sensible of their presence.