hence it seemed almost gigantic in its stature. It gazed upon the pair with eyes that burned with a preternatural blaze, and a voice which Maltravers too well remembered shrieked out "Love! love! What! _thou_ love again? Where is the Dead! Ha, ha! Where is the Dead?"
Evelyn, startled by the words, looked up, and clung in speechless terror to Maltravers. He remained rooted to the spot.
"Unhappy man," said he, at length, and soothingly, "how came you hither? Fly not, you are with friends."
"Friends!" said the maniac, with a scornful laugh. "I know thee, Ernest Maltravers,--I know thee: but it is not thou who hast locked me up in darkness and in hell, side by side with the mocking fiend! Friends! ah, but no Friends shall catch me now! I am free! I am free! Air and wave are not more free!" And the madman laughed with horrible glee. "She is fair--fair," he said, abruptly checking himself, and with a changed voice, "but not so fair as the Dead. Faithless that thou art--and yet she loved _thee_! Woe to thee! woe! Maltravers, the perfidious! Woe to thee--and remorse--and shame!"
"Fear not, Evelyn,--fear not," whispered Maltravers, gently, and placing her behind him; "support your courage,--nothing shall harm you."
Evelyn, though very pale, and trembling from head to foot, retained her senses. Maltravers advanced towards the mad man. But no sooner did the quick eye of the last perceive the movement, than, with the fear which belongs to that dread disease,--the fear of losing liberty,--he turned, and with a loud cry fled into the wood. Maltravers leaped over the fence, and pursued him some way in vain. The thick copses of the wood snatched every trace of the fugitive from his eye.
Breathless and exhausted, Maltravers returned to the spot where he had left Evelyn. As he reached it, he saw Teresa and her husband approaching towards him, and Teresa's merry laugh sounded clear and musical in the racy air. The sound appalled him; he hastened his steps to Evelyn.
"Say nothing of what we have seen to Madame de Montaigne, I beseech you," said he; "I will explain why hereafter."
Evelyn, too overcome to speak, nodded her acquiescence. They joined the De Montaignes, and Maltravers took the Frenchman aside.
But before he could address him, De Montaigne said,--
"Hush! do not alarm my wife--she knows nothing; but I have just heard at Paris, that--that he has escaped--you know whom I mean?"
"I do; he is at hand; send in search of him! I have seen him. Once more I have seen Castruccio Cesarini!"
BOOK IX.
"Woe, woe: all things are clear."--SOPHOCLES: Oed. Tyr. 754.
CHAPTER I.
THE privilege that statesmen ever claim, Who private interest never yet pursued, But still pretended 'twas for others' good. ...... From hence on every humorous wind that veered With shifted sails a several course you steered. _Absalom and Achitophel_, Part ii.
LORD VARGRAVE had for more than a fortnight remained at the inn at M-----, too ill to be removed with safety in a season so severe. Even when at last, by easy stages, he reached London, he was subjected to a relapse; and his recovery was slow and gradual. Hitherto unused to sickness, he bore his confinement with extreme impatience; and against the commands of his physician insisted on continuing to transact his official business, and consult with his political friends in his sick-room; for Lumley knew well, that it is most pernicious to public men to be considered failing in health,--turkeys are not more unfeeling to a sick brother than politicians to an ailing statesman; they give out that his head is touched, and see paralysis and epilepsy in every speech and every despatch. The time, too, nearly ripe for his great schemes, made it doubly necessary that he should exert himself, and prevent being shelved with a plausible excuse of tender compassion for his infirmities. As soon therefore as he learned that Legard had left Paris, he thought himself safe for a while in that quarter, and surrendered his thoughts wholly to his ambitious projects. Perhaps, too, with the susceptible vanity of a middle-aged man, who has had his _bonnes fortunes_, Lumley deemed, with Rousseau, that a lover, pale and haggard--just raised from the bed of suffering--is more interesting to friendship than attractive to love. He and Rousseau were, I believe, both mistaken; but that is a matter of opinion: they both thought very coarsely of women,--one from having no sentiment, and the other from having a sentiment that was but a disease. At length, just as Lumley was sufficiently recovered to quit his house, to appear at his office, and declare that his illness had wonderfully improved his constitution, intelligence from Paris, the more startling from being wholly unexpected, reached him. From Caroline he learned that Maltravers had proposed to Evelyn, and been accepted. From Maltravers himself he heard the confirmation of the news. The last letter was short, but kind and manly. He addressed Lord Vargrave as Evelyn's guardian; slightly alluded to the scruples he had entertained till Lord Vargrave's suit was broken off; and feeling the subject too delicate for a letter, expressed a desire to confer with Lumley respecting Evelyn's wishes as to certain arrangements in her property.
And for this was it that Lumley had toiled! for this had he visited Lisle Court! and for this had he been stricken down to the bed of pain! Was it only to make his old rival the purchaser, if he so pleased it, of the possessions of his own family? Lumley thought at that moment less of Evelyn than of Lisle Court. As he woke from the stupor and the first fit of rage into which these epistles cast him, the recollection of the story he had heard from Mr. Onslow flashed across him. Were his suspicions true, what a secret he would possess! How fate might yet befriend him! Not a moment was to be lost. Weak, suffering as he still was, he ordered his carriage, and hastened down to Mrs. Leslie.
In the interview that took place, he was careful not to alarm her into discretion. He managed the conference with his usual consummate dexterity. He did not appear to believe that there had been any actual connection between Alice and the supposed Butler. He began by simply asking whether Alice had ever, in early life, been acquainted with a person of that name, and when residing in the neighbourhood of -----. The change of countenance, the surprised start of Mrs. Leslie, convinced him that his suspicions were true.
"And why do you ask, my lord?" said the old lady. "Is it to ascertain this point that you have done me the honour to visit me?"
"Not exactly, my dear madam," said Lumley, smiling. "But I am going to C----- on business; and besides that I wished to give an account of your health to Evelyn, whom I shall shortly see at Paris, I certainly did desire to know whether it would be any gratification to Lady Vargrave, for whom I have the deepest regard, to renew her acquaintance with the said Mr. Butler."
"What does your lordship know of him? What is he; who is he?"
"Ah, my dear lady, you turn the tables on me, I see,--for my one question you would give me fifty. But, seriously, before I answer you, you must tell me whether Lady Vargrave does know a gentleman of that name; yet, indeed, to save trouble, I may as well inform you, that I know it was under that name that she resided at C-----, when my poor uncle first made her acquaintance. What I ought to ask is this,--supposing Mr. Butler be still alive, and a gentleman of character and fortune, would it please Lady Vargrave to meet with him once more?"
"I cannot tell you," said Mrs. Leslie, sinking back in her chair, much embarrassed.
"Enough, I shall not stir further in the matter. Glad to see you looking so well. Fine place, beautiful trees. Any commands at C-----, or any message for Evelyn?"
Lumley rose to depart.
"Stay," said Mrs. Leslie, recalling all the pining, restless, untiring love that Lady Vargrave had manifested towards the lost, and feeling that she ought not to sacrifice to slight scruples the chance of happiness for her friend's future years,--"stay; I think this question you should address to Lady Vargrave,--or shall I?"
"As you will,--perhaps I had better write. Good-day," and Vargrave hurried away.
He had satisfied himself, but he had another yet to satisfy,--and that, from certain reasons known but to himself, without bringing the third person in contact with Lady Vargrave.