CHAPTER XXVII.
THE NOBLE CONFIDENCE OF FLORA BANNERWORTH IN HER LOVER.--HER OPINION OFTHE THREE LETTERS.--THE ADMIRAL'S ADMIRATION.
To describe the feelings of Henry Bannerworth on the occasion of thisapparent defalcation from the path of rectitude and honour by hisfriend, as he had fondly imagined Charles Holland to be, would be nextto impossible.
If, as we have taken occasion to say, it be a positive fact, that anoble and a generous mind feels more acutely any heartlessness of thisdescription from one on whom it has placed implicit confidence, than themost deliberate and wicked of injuries from absolute strangers, we caneasily conceive that Henry Bannerworth was precisely the person to feelmost acutely the conduct which all circumstances appeared to fix uponCharles Holland, upon whose faith, truth, and honour, he would havestaked his very existence but a few short hours before.
With such a bewildered sensation that he scarcely knew where he walkedor whither to betake himself, did he repair to his own chamber, andthere he strove, with what energy he was able to bring to the task, tofind out some excuses, if he could, for Charles's conduct. But he couldfind none. View it in what light he would, it presented but a picture ofthe most heartless selfishness it had ever been his lot to encounter.
The tone of the letters, too, which Charles had written, materiallyaggravated the moral delinquency of which he had been guilty; belief,far better, had he not attempted an excuse at all than have attemptedsuch excuses as were there put down in those epistles.
A more cold blooded, dishonourable proceeding could not possibly beconceived.
It would appear, that while he entertained a doubt with regard to thereality of the visitation of the vampyre to Flora Bannerworth, he hadbeen willing to take to himself abundance of credit for the mosthonourable feelings, and to induce a belief in the minds of all that anexalted feeling of honour, as well as a true affection that would knowno change, kept him at the feet of her whom he loved.
Like some braggart, who, when there is no danger, is a very hero, butwho, the moment he feels convinced he will be actually and truly calledupon for an exhibition of his much-vaunted prowess, had Charles Hollanddeserted the beautiful girl who, if anything, had now certainly, in hermisfortunes, a far higher claim upon his kindly feeling than before.
Henry could not sleep, although, at the request of George, who offeredto keep watch for him the remainder of the night he attempted to do so.
He in vain said to himself, "I will banish from my mind this mostunworthy subject. I have told Admiral Bell that contempt is the onlyfeeling I can now have for his nephew, and yet I now find myselfdwelling upon him, and upon his conduct, with a perseverance which is afoe to my repose."
At length came the welcome and beautiful light of day, and Henry rosefevered and unrefreshed.
His first impulse now was to hold a consultation with his brotherGeorge, as to what was to be done, and George advised that Mr.Marchdale, who as yet knew nothing of the matter, should be immediatelyinformed of it, and consulted, as being probably better qualified thaneither of them to come to a just, a cool, and a reasonable opinion uponthe painful circumstance, which it could not be expected that either ofthem would be able to view calmly.
"Let it be so, then," said Henry; "Mr. Marchdale shall decide for us."
They at once sought this friend of the family, who was in his ownbed-room, and when Henry knocked at the door, Marchdale opened ithurriedly, eagerly inquiring what was the matter.
"There is no alarm," said Henry. "We have only come to tell you of acircumstance which has occurred during the night, and which willsomewhat surprise you."
"Nothing calamitous, I hope?"
"Vexatious; and yet, I think it is a matter upon which we ought almostto congratulate ourselves. Read those two letters, and give us yourcandid opinion upon them."
Henry placed in Mr. Marchdale's hands the letter addressed to himself,as well as that to the admiral.
Marchdale read them both with marked attention, but he did not exhibitin his countenance so much surprise as regret.
When he had finished, Henry said to him,--
"Well, Marchdale, what think you of this new and extraordinary episodein our affairs?"
"My dear young friends," said Marchdale, in a voice of great emotion, "Iknow not what to say to you. I have no doubt but that you are both ofyou much astonished at the receipt of these letters, and equally so atthe sudden absence of Charles Holland."
"And are not you?"
"Not so much as you, doubtless, are. The fact is, I never did entertaina favourable opinion of the young man, and he knew it. I have beenaccustomed to the study of human nature under a variety of aspects; Ihave made it a matter of deep, and I may add, sorrowful, contemplation,to study and remark those minor shades of character which commonlyescape observation wholly. And, I repeat, I always had a bad opinion ofCharles Holland, which he guessed, and hence he conceived a hatred tome, which more than once, as you cannot but remember, showed itself inlittle acts of opposition and hostility."
"You much surprise me."
"I expected to do so. But you cannot help remembering that at one time Iwas on the point of leaving here solely on his account."
"You were so."
"Indeed I should have done so, but that I reasoned with myself upon thesubject, and subdued the impulse of the anger which some years ago, whenI had not seen so much of the world, would have guided me."
"But why did you not impart to us your suspicions? We should at least,then, have been prepared for such a contingency as has occurred."
"Place yourself in my position, and then yourself what you would havedone. Suspicion is one of those hideous things which all men should bemost specially careful not only how they entertain at all, but how theygive expression to. Besides, whatever may be the amount of one's owninternal conviction with regard to the character of any one, there isjust a possibility that one may be wrong."
"True, true."
"That possibility ought to keep any one silent who has nothing butsuspicion to go upon, however cautious it may make him, as regards hisdealings with the individual. I only suspected from little minute shadesof character, that would peep out in spite of him, that Charles Hollandwas not the honourable man he would fain have had everybody believe himto be."
"And had you from the first such a feeling?"
"I had."
"It is very strange."
"Yes; and what is more strange still, is that he from the first seemedto know it; and despite a caution which I could see he always keptuppermost in his thoughts, he could not help speaking tartly to me attimes."
"I have noticed that," said George.
"You may depend it is a fact," added Marchdale, "that nothing so muchexcites the deadly and desperate hatred of a man who is acting ahypocritical part, as the suspicion, well grounded or not, that anothersees and understands the secret impulses of his dishonourable heart."
"I cannot blame you, or any one else, Mr. Marchdale," said Henry, "thatyou did not give utterance to your secret thoughts, but I do wish thatyou had done so."
"Nay, dear Henry," replied Mr. Marchdale, "believe me, I have made thismatter a subject of deep thought, and have abundance of reasons why Iought not to have spoken to you upon the subject."
"Indeed!"
"Indeed I have, and not among the least important is the one, that if Ihad acquainted you with my suspicions, you would have found yourself inthe painful position of acting a hypocritical part yourself towards thisCharles Holland, for you must either have kept the secret that he wassuspected, or you must have shewn it to him by your behaviour."
"Well, well. I dare say, Marchdale, you acted for the best. What shallwe do now?"
"Can you doubt?"
"I was thinking of letting Flora at once know the absolute and completeworthlessness of her lover, so that she could have no difficulty in atonce tearing herself from him by the assistance of the natural pridewhich would surely come to her aid, upon finding herself so
muchdeceived."
"The test may be possible."
"You think so?"
"I do, indeed."
"Here is a letter, which of course remains unopened, addressed to Floraby Charles Holland. The admiral rather thought it would hurt herfeelings to deliver her such an epistle, but I must confess I am of acontrary opinion upon that point, and think now the more evidence shehas of the utter worthlessness of him who professed to love her with somuch disinterested affection, the better it will be for her."
"You could not, possibly, Henry, have taken a more sensible view of thesubject."
"I am glad you agree with me."
"No reasonable man could do otherwise, and from what I have seen ofAdmiral Bell, I am sure, upon reflection, he will be of the sameopinion."
"Then it shall be so. The first shock to poor Flora may be severe, butwe shall then have the consolation of knowing that it is the only one,and that in knowing the very worst, she has no more on that score toapprehend. Alas, alas! the hand of misfortune now appears to havepressed heavily upon us indeed. What in the name of all that is unluckyand disastrous, will happen next, I wonder?"
"What can happen?" said Marchdale; "I think you have now got rid of thegreatest evil of all--a false friend."
"We have, indeed."
"Go, then, to Flora; assure her that in the affection of others who knowno falsehood, she will find a solace from every ill. Assure her thatthere are hearts that will place themselves between her and everymisfortune."
Mr. Marchdale was much affected as he spoke. Probably he felt deeperthan he chose to express the misfortunes of that family for whom heentertained so much friendship. He turned aside his head to hide thetraces of emotion which, despite even his great powers of self-command,would shew themselves upon his handsome and intelligent countenance.Then it appeared as if his noble indignation had got, for a few briefmoments, the better of all prudence, and he exclaimed,--
"The villain! the worse than villain! who would, with a thousandartifices, make himself beloved by a young, unsuspecting, and beautifulgirl, but then to leave her to the bitterness of regret, that she hadever given such a man a place in her esteem. The heartless ruffian!"
"Be calm, Mr. Marchdale, I pray you be calm," said George; "I never sawyou so much moved."
"Excuse me," he said, "excuse me; I am much moved, and I am human. Icannot always, let me strive my utmost, place a curb upon my feelings."
"They are feelings which do you honour."
"Nay, nay, I am foolish to have suffered myself to be led away into sucha hasty expression of them. I am accustomed to feel acutely and to feeldeeply, but it is seldom I am so much overcome as this."
"Will you accompany us to the breakfast room at once, Mr. Marchdale,where we will make this communication to Flora; you will then be able tojudge by her manner of receiving it, what it will be best to say toher."
"Come, then, and pray be calm. The least that is said upon this painfuland harassing subject, after this morning, will be the best."
"You are right--you are right."
Mr. Marchdale hastily put on his coat. He was dressed, with theexception of that one article of apparel, when the brothers came to hischamber, and then he came to the breakfast-parlour where the painfulcommunication was to be made to Flora of her lover's faithlessness.
Flora was already seated in that apartment. Indeed, she had beenaccustomed to meet Charles Holland there before others of the familymade their appearance, but, alas! this morning the kind and tender loverwas not there.
The expression that sat upon the countenances of her brothers, and ofMr. Marchdale, was quite sufficient to convince her that something moreserious than usual had occurred, and she at the moment turned very pale.Marchdale observed this change of change of countenance in her, and headvanced towards her, saying,--
"Calm yourself, Flora, we have something to communicate to you, but itis a something which should excite indignation, and no other feeling, inyour breast."
"Brother, what is the meaning of this?" said Flora, turning aside fromMarchdale, and withdrawing the hand which he would have taken.
"I would rather have Admiral Bell here before I say anything," saidHenry, "regarding a matter in which he cannot but feel much interestedpersonally."
"Here he is," said the admiral, who at that moment had opened the doorof the breakfast room. "Here he is, so now fire away, and don't sparethe enemy."
"And Charles?" said Flora, "where is Charles?"
"D--n Charles!" cried the admiral, who had not been much accustomed tocontrol his feelings.
"Hush! hush!" said Henry; "my dear sir, hush! do not indulge now in anyinvectives. Flora, here are three letters; you will see that the onewhich is unopened is addressed to yourself. However, we wish you to readthe whole three of them, and then to form your own free and unbiasedopinion."
Flora looked as pale as a marble statue, when she took the letters intoher hands. She let the two that were open fall on the table before her,while she eagerly broke the seal of that which was addressed to herself.
Henry, with an instinctive delicacy, beckoned every one present to thewindow, so that Flora had not the pain of feeling that any eyes werefixed upon her but those of her mother, who had just come into the room,while she was perusing those documents which told such a tale ofheartless dissimulation.
"My dear child," said Mrs. Bannerworth, "you are ill."
"Hush! mother--hush!" said Flora, "let me know all."
She read the whole of the letters through, and then, as the last onedropped from her grasp, she exclaimed,--
"Oh, God! oh, God! what is all that has occurred compared to this?Charles--Charles--Charles!"
"Flora!" exclaimed Henry, suddenly turning from the window. "Flora, isthis worthy of you?"
"Heaven now support me!"
"Is this worthy of the name you bear Flora? I should have thought, and Idid hope, that woman's pride would have supported you."
"Let me implore you," added Marchdale, "to summon indignation to youraid, Miss Bannerworth."
"Charles--Charles--Charles!" she again exclaimed, as she wrung her handsdespairingly.
"Flora, if anything could add a sting to my already irritated feelings,"said Henry, "this conduct of yours would."
"Henry--brother, what mean you? Are you mad?"
"Are you, Flora?"
"God, I wish now that I was."
"You have read those letters, and yet you call upon the name of him whowrote them with frantic tenderness."
"Yes, yes," she cried; "frantic tenderness is the word. It is withfrantic tenderness I call upon his name, and ever will.--Charles!Charles!--dear Charles!"
"This surpasses all belief," said Marchdale.
"It is the frenzy of grief," added George; "but I did not expect it ofher. Flora--Flora, think again."
"Think--think--the rush of thought distracts. Whence came theseletters?--where did you find these most disgraceful forgeries?"
"Forgeries!" exclaimed Henry; and he staggered back, as if someone hadstruck him a blow.
"Yes, forgeries!" screamed Flora. "What has become of Charles Holland?Has he been murdered by some secret enemy, and then these most vilefabrications made up in his name? Oh, Charles, Charles, are you lost tome for ever?"
"Good God!" said Henry; "I did not think of that"
"Madness!--madness!" cried Marchdale.
"Hold!" shouted the admiral. "Let me speak to her."
He pushed every one aside, and advanced to Flora. He seized both herhands in his own, and in a tone of voice that was struggling withfeeling, he cried,--
"Look at me, my dear; I'm an old man old enough to be your grandfather,so you needn't mind looking me steadily in the face. Look at me, I wantto ask you a question."
Flora raised her beautiful eyes, and looked the old weather-beatenadmiral full in the face.
Oh! what a striking contrast did those two persons present to eachother. That young and beautiful girl, with her small, delicate,childlike
hands clasped, and completely hidden in the huge ones of theold sailor, the white, smooth skin contrasting wonderfully with hiswrinkled, hardened features.
"My dear," he cried, "you have read those--those d----d letters, mydear?"
"I have, sir."
"And what do you think of them?"
"They were not written by Charles Holland, your nephew."
A choking sensation seemed to come over the old man, and he tried tospeak, but in vain. He shook the hands of the young girl violently,until he saw that he was hurting her, and then, before she could beaware of what he was about, he gave her a kiss on the cheek, as hecried,--
"God bless you--God bless you! You are the sweetest, dearest littlecreature that ever was, or that ever will be, and I'm a d----d old fool,that's what I am. These letters were not written by my nephew, Charles.He is incapable of writing them, and, d--n me, I shall take shame tomyself as long as I live for ever thinking so."
"Dear sir," said Flora, who somehow or another did not seem at alloffended at the kiss which the old man had given her; "dear sir, howcould you believe, for one moment, that they came from him? There hasbeen some desperate villany on foot. Where is he?--oh, find him, if hebe yet alive. If they who have thus striven to steal from him thathonour, which is the jewel of his heart, have murdered him, seek themout, sir, in the sacred name of justice, I implore you."
"I will--I will. I don't renounce him; he is my nephew still--CharlesHolland--my own dear sister's son; and you are the best girl, God blessyou, that ever breathed. He loved you--he loves you still; and if he'sabove ground, poor fellow, he shall yet tell you himself he never sawthose infamous letters."
"You--you will seek for him?" sobbed Flora, and the tears gushed fromher eyes. "Upon you, sir, who, as I do, feel assured of his innocence, Ialone rely. If all the world say he is guilty, we will not think so."
"I'm d----d if we do."
Henry had sat down by the table, and, with his hands clasped together,seemed in an agony of thought.
He was now roused by a thump on the back by the admiral, who cried,--
"What do you think, now, old fellow? D--n it, things look a littledifferent now."
"As God is my judge," said Henry, holding up his hands, "I know not whatto think, but my heart and feelings all go with you and with Flora, inyour opinion of the innocence of Charles Holland."
"I knew you would say that, because you could not possibly help it, mydear boy. Now we are all right again, and all we have got to do is tofind out which way the enemy has gone, and then give chase to him."
"Mr. Marchdale, what do you think of this new suggestion," said Georgeto that gentleman.
"Pray, excuse me," was his reply; "I would much rather not be calledupon to give an opinion."
"Why, what do you mean by that?" said the admiral.
"Precisely what I say, sir."
"D--n me, we had a fellow once in the combined fleets, who never had anopinion till after something had happened, and then he always said thatwas just what he thought."
"I was never in the combined, or any other fleet, sir," said Marchdale,coldly.
"Who the devil said you were?" roared the admiral.
Marchdale merely hawed.
"However," added the admiral, "I don't care, and never did, foranybody's opinion, when I know I am right. I'd back this dear girl herefor opinions, and good feelings, and courage to express them, againstall the world, I would, any day. If I was not the old hulk I am, I wouldtake a cruise in any latitude under the sun, if it was only for thechance of meeting with just such another."
"Oh, lose no time!" said Flora. "If Charles is not to be found in thehouse, lose no time in searching for him, I pray you; seek him, whereverthere is the remotest probability he may chance to be. Do not let himthink he is deserted."
"Not a bit of it," cried the admiral. "You make your mind easy, my dear.If he's above ground, we shall find him out, you may depend upon it.Come along master Henry, you and I will consider what had best be donein this uncommonly ugly matter."
Henry and George followed the admiral from the breakfast-room, leavingMarchdale there, who looked serious and full of melancholy thought.
It was quite clear that he considered Flora had spoken from the generouswarmth of her affection as regarded Charles Holland, and not from theconvictions which reason would have enforced her to feel.
When he was now alone with her and Mrs. Bannerworth, he spoke in afeeling and affectionate tone regarding the painful and inexplicableevents which had transpired.