CHAPTER XIV. NEWS FROM GRABMAN.
That day, opening thus auspiciously to Beck, was memorable also to otherand more prominent persons in this history.
Early in the forenoon a parcel was brought to Madame Dalibard whichcontained Ardworth's already famous book, a goodly assortment ofextracts from the newspapers thereon, and the following letter from theyoung author:--
You will see, by the accompanying packet, that your counsels have hadweight with me. I have turned aside in my slow, legitimate career. Ihave, as you desired, made "men talk of me." What solid benefit Imay reap from this I know not. I shall not openly avow the book. Suchnotoriety cannot help meat the Bar. But liberavi animam meam,--excusemy pedantry,--I have let my soul free for a moment; I am now catchingit back to put bit and saddle on again. I will not tell you how you havedisturbed me, how you have stung me into this premature rush amidst thecrowd, how, after robbing me of name and father, you have driven meto this experiment with my own mind, to see if I was deceived when Igroaned to myself, "The Public shall give you a name, and Fame shall beyour mother." I am satisfied with the experiment. I know better now whatis in me, and I have regained my peace of mind. If in the success ofthis hasty work there be that which will gratify the interest you sokindly take in me, deem that success your own; I owe it to you,--to yourrevelations, to your admonitions. I wait patiently your own time forfurther disclosures; till then, the wheel must work on, and the gristbe ground. Kind and generous friend, till now I would not wound you byreturning the sum you sent me,--nay, more, I knew I should please you bydevoting part of it to the risk of giving this essay to the world, andso making its good fortune doubly your own work. Now, when the publishersmiles, and the shopmen bow, and I am acknowledged to have a bank in mybrains,--now, you cannot be offended to receive it back. Adieu. When mymind is in train again, and I feel my step firm on the old dull road,I will come to see you. Till then, yours--by what name? Open theBiographical Dictionary at hazard, and send me one. GRAY'S INN.
Not at the noble thoughts and the deep sympathy with mankind that glowedthrough that work, over which Lucretia now tremulously hurried, did shefeel delight. All that she recognized, or desired to recognize, werethose evidences of that kind of intellect which wins its way through theworld, and which, strong and unmistakable, rose up in every page of thatvigorous logic and commanding style. The book was soon dropped, thusread; the newspaper extracts pleased even more.
"This," she said audibly, in the freedom of her solitude, "this is theson I asked for,--a son in whom I can rise; in whom I can exchange thesense of crushing infamy for the old delicious ecstasy of pride! Forthis son can I do too much? No; in what I may do for him methinks therewill be no remorse. And he calls his success mine,--mine!" Her nostrilsdilated, and her front rose erect.
In the midst of this exultation Varney found her; and before he couldcommunicate the business which had brought him, he had to listen, whichhe did with the secret, gnawing envy that every other man's successoccasioned him, to her haughty self-felicitations.
He could not resist saying, with a sneer, when she paused, as if to askhis sympathy,--
"All this is very fine, belle-mere; and yet I should hardly have thoughtthat coarse-featured, uncouth limb of the law, who seldom moves withoutupsetting a chair, never laughs but the panes rattle in the window,--Ishould hardly have thought him the precise person to gratify your pride,or answer the family ideal of a gentleman and a St. John."
"Gabriel," said Lucretia, sternly, "you have a biting tongue, and itis folly in me to resent those privileges which our fearful connectiongives you. But this raillery--"
"Come, come, I was wrong; forgive it!" interrupted Varney, who, dreadingnothing else, dreaded much the rebuke of his grim stepmother.
"It is forgiven," said Lucretia, coldly, and with a slight wave of herhand; then she added, with composure,--
"Long since--even while heiress of Laughton--I parted with mere pride inthe hollow seemings of distinction. Had I not, should I have stooped toWilliam Mainwaring? What I then respected, amidst all the degradations Ihave known, I respect still,--talent, ambition, intellect, and will. Doyou think I would exchange these in a son of mine for the mere graceswhich a dancing-master can sell him? Fear not. Let us give but wealthto that intellect, and the world will see no clumsiness in the movementsthat march to its high places, and hear no discord in the laugh thattriumphs over fools. But you have some news to communicate, or someproposal to suggest."
"I have both," said Varney. "In the first place, I have a letter fromGrabman!"
Lucretia's eyes sparkled, and she snatched eagerly at the letter herson-in-law drew forth.
LIVERPOOL, October, 1831.
JASON,--I think I am on the road to success. Having first possessedmyself of the fact, commemorated in the parish register, of the birthand baptism of Alfred Braddell's son,--for we must proceed regularly inthese matters,--I next set my wits to work to trace that son's exodusfrom the paternal mansion. I have hunted up an old woman-servant, JanePrior, who lived with the Braddells. She now thrives as a laundress;she is a rank Puritan, and starches for the godly. She was at firstvery wary and reserved in her communications; but by siding with herprejudices and humours, and by the intercession of the Rev. Mr. Graves(of her own persuasion), I have got her to open her lips. It seems thatthese Braddells lived very unhappily; the husband, a pious dissenter,had married a lady who turned out of a very different practice andbelief. Jane Prior pitied her master, and detested her mistress. Somecircumstances in the conduct of Mrs. Braddell made the husband, who wasthen in his last illness, resolve, from a point of conscience, to savehis child from what he deemed the contamination of her precepts andexample. Mrs. Braddell was absent from Liverpool on a visit, whichwas thought very unfeeling by the husband's friends; during this timeBraddell was visited constantly by a gentleman (Mr. Ardworth), whodiffered from him greatly in some things, and seemed one of thecarnal, but with whom agreement in politics (for they were both greatpoliticians and republicans) seems to have established a link. Oneevening, when Mr. Ardworth was in the house, Jane Prior, who wasthe only maidservant (for they kept but two, and one had been justdischarged), had been sent out to the apothecary's. On her return, JanePrior, going into the nursery, missed the infant: she thought it waswith her master; but coming into his room, Mr. Braddell told her to shutthe door, informed her that he had intrusted the boy to Mr. Ardworth,to be brought up in a righteous and pious manner, and implored andcommanded her to keep this a secret from his wife, whom he was resolved,indeed, if he lived, not to receive back into his house. Braddell,however, did not survive more than two days this event. On his death,Mrs. Braddell returned; but circumstances connected with the symptomsof his malady, and a strong impression which haunted himself, and withwhich he had infected Jane Prior, that he had been poisoned, led to aposthumous examination of his remains. No trace of poison was, however,discovered, and suspicions that had been directed against his wife couldnot be substantiated by law; still, she was regarded in so unfavourablea light by all who had known them both, she met with such littlekindness or sympathy in her widowhood, and had been so openly denouncedby Jane Prior, that it is not to be wondered at that she left theplace as soon as possible. The house, indeed, was taken from her; forBraddell's affairs were found in such confusion, and his embarrassmentsso great, that everything was seized and sold off,--nothing left for thewidow nor for the child (if the last were ever discovered.)
As may be supposed, Mrs. Braddell was at first very clamorous for thelost child; but Jane Prior kept her promise and withheld all clew to it,and Mrs. Braddell was forced to quit the place, in ignorance of what hadbecome of it. Since then no one had heard of her; but Jane Prior saysthat she is sure she has come to no good. Now, though much of this maybe, no doubt, familiar to you, dear Jason, it is right, when I put theevidence before you, that you should know and guard against whatto expect; and in any trial at law to prove the identity of VincentBraddell, Jane Prior must be a principal witness, and
will certainlynot spare poor Mrs. Braddell. For the main point, however,--namely, thesuspicion of poisoning her husband,--the inquest and verdict may setaside all alarm.
My next researches have been directed on the track of Walter Ardworth,after leaving Liverpool, which (I find by the books at the inn where helodged and was known) he did in debt to the innkeeper, the very nighthe received the charge of the child. Here, as yet, I am in fault; but Ihave ascertained that a woman, one of the sect, of the name of Joplin,living in a village fifteen miles from the town, had the care of someinfant, to replace her own, which she had lost. I am going to thisvillage to-morrow. But I cannot expect much in that quarter, sinceit would seem at variance with your more probable belief that WalterArdworth took the child at once to Mr. Fielden's. However, you see Ihave already gone very far in the evidence,--the birth of the child,the delivery of the child to Ardworth. I see a very pretty case alreadybefore us, and I do not now doubt for a moment of ultimate success.Yours, N. GRABMAN.
Lucretia read steadily, and with no change of countenance, to the lastline of the letter. Then, as she put it down on the table before her,she repeated, with a tone of deep exultation: "No doubt of ultimatesuccess!"
"You do not fear to brave all which the spite of this woman, Jane Prior,may prompt her to say against you?" asked Varney.
Lucretia's brow fell. "It is another torture," she said, "even to own mymarriage with a low-born hypocrite. But I can endure it for the cause,"she added, more haughtily. "Nothing can really hurt me in these obsoleteaspersions and this vague scandal. The inquest acquitted me, and theworld will be charitable to the mother of him who has wealth and rankand that vigorous genius which, if proved in obscurity, shall commandopinion in renown."
"You are now, then, disposed at once to proceed to action. For Helenall is prepared,--the insurances are settled, the trust for which I holdthem on your behalf is signed and completed. But for Percival St. JohnI await your directions. Will it be best first to prove your son'sidentity, or when morally satisfied that that proof is forthcoming, toremove betimes both the barriers to his inheritance? If we tarry for thelast, the removal of St. John becomes more suspicious than it does ata time when you have no visible interest in his death. Besides, now wehave the occasion, or can make it, can we tell how long it will last?Again, it will seem more natural that the lover should break his heartin the first shock of--"
"Ay," interrupted Lucretia, "I would have all thought and contemplationof crime at an end when, clasping my boy to my heart, I can say, 'Yourmother's inheritance is yours.' I would not have a murder before my eyeswhen they should look only on the fair prospects beyond. I would castback all the hideous images of horror into the rear of memory, so thathope may for once visit me again undisturbed. No, Gabriel, were I tospeak forever, you would comprehend not what I grasp at in a son. Itis at a future! Rolling a stone over the sepulchre of the past, it isa resurrection into a fresh world; it is to know again one emotion notimpure, one scheme not criminal,--it is, in a word, to cease to be asmyself, to think in another soul, to hear my heart beat in another form.All this I covet in a son. And when all this should smile before mein his image, shall I be plucked back again into my hell by theconsciousness that a new crime is to be done? No; wade quickly throughthe passage of blood, that we may dry our garments and breathe the airupon the bank where sun shines and flowers bloom!"
"So be it, then," said Varney. "Before the week is out, I must be underthe same roof as St. John. Before the week is out, why not all meet inthe old halls of Laughton?"
"Ay, in the halls of Laughton. On the hearth of our ancestors the deedsdone for our descendants look less dark."
"And first, to prepare the way, Helen should sicken in these fogs ofLondon, and want change of air."
"Place before me that desk. I will read William Mainwaring's lettersagain and again, till from every shadow in the past a voice comes forth,'The child of your rival, your betrayer, your undoer, stands between thedaylight and your son!'"