It still wanted half an hour of eight o'clock on the following morning, when Dudley walked along the road from Beach Rock to Brandon. He was not alone, however, for by his side was Martin Oldkirk, whose stern but not unpleasant features were lighted up with an expression of high satisfaction. At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from the old Priory the two paused, and Dudley turned to take the path across the fields which led to the ruin, while Martin Oldkirk went on; but after a moment the young gentleman paused, and called to his companion, saying, "I think you would do it more quickly if you would go back and get the gig we left at Seafield. I should like to have them all at Brandon by half-past nine."
"I shall go quicker on foot, sir," replied Oldkirk. "Seafield is a mile and a half, and that would be all lost time."
Without more words he walked on; and leaping the stile with a light heart, Dudley soon reached the bank of the little stream near which ran the path he was following. Slackening his pace a little, as he proceeded, to gaze at the dancing waters sparkling in the morning light, he advanced with the copse straight before him, and an angle of the ruin rising gray above the green foliage. The hour and the scene and the season all harmonised well with the feelings in his bosom. He was going to meet her he loved in the bright morning of the year's most hopeful time, and his heart was full of the thrilling emotions of life's happiest dream.
He reached the little lawn which spread from the old portal to the brink of the stream, and knowing he was before the hour, was advancing to take the seat which he had chosen the night before, and wait with hope and fancy for his companions, when a man came forth from one of the recesses of the building, with a slow and sauntering air.
"This is disagreeable!" thought Dudley; "but it matters not. As I have resolved on my course, I will walk on. I shall be sure to meet them in the park;" and he began to cross the green towards the copse, when the man whom he had seen called to him, saying, "Sir, sir! I want to ask you a question."
Dudley instantly paused and turned round, when at the same moment another man appeared, and the first approaching said, "Is not your name Dudley, sir?"
"Yes," replied the young gentleman; "what may be your pleasure with me?"
"I apprehend you in the Queen's name," said the stranger, grasping his arm and producing a constable's staff. "Come along with me!"
"Where is your warrant?" demanded Dudley, with perfect calmness, while the second man approached.
"I don't need any warrants," answered the constable. "I know you for a returned convict; and I shall take you at once before Mr. Conway."
"No, that you shall not do," replied Dudley, keeping them at a little distance. "It is your duty to take me before the nearest magistrate; that is Sir Arthur Adelon, and you have no pretence for making me go four miles when there is a justice within one."
"Well, there can be no objection to that," said the constable; but the other man interposed, observing in a low tone, "He said before Mr. Conway."
"I don't care for that," replied the other; "I don't take my orders from he. Did he say why?"
"I have told you what is your duty," said Dudley; "and you know it to be so. Disregard it at your peril; for you will find in a very short time that you are altogether wrong in this business; and if you subject me to more inconvenience than necessary, I will punish you."
"Well, I shall put the handcuffs on you, at all events, my young blade," replied the constable; "that I have a right to do."
"No, you have not," answered Dudley, who had a stout stick in his hand; "and you shall not do it. I tell you I am not an escaped convict, and that I am ready to go before Sir Arthur Adelon, without the slightest resistance; but any attempt to treat me with indignity I will resist to the utmost of my power, knowing that I am in the right. The consequences, then, be upon your own heads; for whether I be injured or you be injured, in any struggle which may take place, the responsibility will rest with you."
It is unfortunate that the inferior officers of the law have seldom any accurate knowledge of the law they have to execute, which generally makes their proceedings either rashly violent or weakly hesitating. "Well, sir," said the constable in return, after a moment's thought, "if you will go quietly I don't mind."
"I will go quietly," replied Dudley, "and for your own satisfaction, one can come on one side and the other on the other; but remember, if either of you attempt to touch me, I will knock him down."
This being arranged, the whole party proceeded with some caution through the little wood, across the road, and into the park. They had hardly gone a hundred yards, however, when Dudley perceived those whom he had come to meet, advancing towards him. He took not the least notice, but proceeded with a calm and deliberate step; and he could see that Edgar suddenly hurried his pace.
When they came a little nearer, Sir Arthur Adelon's son left his cousin beneath one of the chestnut trees, and hastening forward, shook Dudley warmly by the hand. The two constables looked at each other in some surprise, for this was a sort of recognition which they had not the least expectation of witnessing; and they made no effort to interrupt a low conversation which went on for a minute or two between their prisoner and his friend.
"I will tell him; I will not fail to tell him," said Edgar. "I will get back with Eda as fast as possible, that she may be there before you arrive. Good-bye, good-bye, for the present!"
Thus ended their short conference; and Dudley, turning to the constables, told them he was ready to proceed. It was evident the two men began to doubt that they were exactly in the right; but Dudley gave them no opportunity of satisfying themselves any farther, walking on with a slow step, and suffering Eda and her cousin to enter the house before him. Few of the servants were seen about the place; and the man who appeared at the hall-door, in answer to the summons of the bell, was a stranger to Dudley.
A small room in Brandon House had been set apart as a justice-room; but when the servant led the constables and their prisoner thither, he found the door locked, and consequently conducted them to the library.
"Sir Arthur is not down yet," said the footman; "but I will tell him as soon as he is up."
"Tell Mr. Filmer," said the constable; "he's up, I'll warrant."
Dudley listened with a slight smile, but made no remark aloud, thinking, though mistakenly, "Some of the servants saw me on the night of the wreck, and have told the priest."
After waiting for a few minutes, the same servant returned, and beckoned one of the constables out of the room. He was absent for nearly a quarter of an hour; but on his return he advanced towards Dudley, saying, "I am to take you to Mr. Conway, sir; for Sir Arthur will not like to deal with the case, because he knows you."
"I am afraid he must," replied Dudley, firmly. "I am here in a magistrate's house, and I certainly shall not quit it till he has decided whether there is, or is not, cause for keeping me in custody. You need not speak another word on the subject, my good friend, for here I am determined to remain."
The man seemed puzzled, and gave a significant look towards his companion. He then quitted the room once more; but returning after an absence of a few minutes, sat down at a little distance from the prisoner, and beat the top of his hat with his fingers. Many persons were now heard moving about the house, and a round-headed, fat-faced young man, in a Melton coat, top-boots, and white-cord breeches, entered, looked round, and walked out again. Some one also passed along under the windows, whistling one of those interminable airs which ornament modern operas, and which are so happily adapted to vulgar tastes, that everybody can whistle them, and everybody does. A moment after, Sir Arthur's voice was heard in the hall, saying, apparently to a servant, "Well, ring the breakfast bell; I dare say we shall not be long. Do you know what it is about? Who is he?"
"He looks quite like a gentleman, sir," said the servant; "but I did not ask any questions. Mr. Filmer has spoken with the constables."
"Well, send Mr. Filmer to me," said Sir Arthur Adelon. "Good morning, my lord; good morning, Captain M----. The constables have brought in a prisoner; I must go and see what it is all about; but I will join you at breakfast in a few minutes."
"Yours is an open court, I suppose, Sir Arthur," said the voice of Captain M----; "and if you will permit me, I will see how people conduct such business here."
"Certainly, certainly," said Sir Arthur Adelon; and opening the door of the library, he walked in, followed by Lord Kingsland and Captain M----.
The moment the baronet's eyes fell upon Dudley, however, a change came over his face. He turned very pale, and his lip quivered; but he recovered speedily, and noticing the prisoner with a haughty bow, he said, "I did not expect to see you here, sir." At the same time, he moved towards a great arm-chair, by the side of the library table. Captain M----'s eye glanced towards Dudley with a very slight smile, but he took no farther notice of him, and seated himself near the peer and the baronet.
"I dare say you did not, Sir Arthur," said Dudley, in reply to the magistrate's words. "My coming hither, at this moment, was unexpected to myself, though I certainly should have troubled you with a visit in a short time. It is to these two worthy gentlemen I owe the pleasure of seeing you sooner than I intended."
"Humph!" said Sir Arthur, with a cold look. "I am to suppose, sir, then, that they brought you hither: in which they probably only did their duty? Upon what charge have you brought this--this--this gentleman, before me," he continued, addressing the constable.
"Why, your worship, Sir Arthur," replied the man, "I had information, that this gentleman, this Mr. Dudley, is an escaped convict; the same as he who was condemned at the assizes two or three years ago. If he's not, he's very like him."
"What do you say to this charge, sir," demanded Sir Arthur Adelon, looking at Dudley with the same cold demeanour.
"By your permission, Sir Arthur," replied Dudley, "I will put one question to this good man."
"Oh! as many as you please," answered the baronet, throwing himself back in his chair, evidently not very much at ease.
"Well, then, tell me, my good friend the constable," continued Dudley, "who was it that gave you orders to apprehend me?"
"Why, nobody gave me orders like," replied the constable; "but I had information like."
"From whom?" demanded Dudley. "That is exactly what I want to know."
The man looked a little bewildered, but at length replied, "Why, I was told not to say anything about it."
"Yes; but you must say something here," said Dudley. "I insist upon your informing Sir Arthur Adelon, who it was that gave you that information."
"Why, it was Mr. Filmer; Father Peter, as they call him, if I must say," replied the constable. "I don't see why he should mind my telling."
"I doubt its being very pleasing to him," replied Dudley; "but with that we have nothing to do."
"I do not see what we have to do with the matter at all," said Sir Arthur Adelon. "To me it seems of no importance."
"To you it is of the greatest importance in the world," replied Dudley. "I put the question for the express purpose of leading to the complete display of a villain's character. I must request you to send for Mr. Filmer, sir."
"I have sent for him already," said Sir Arthur, sharply; "but the question is, whether you, sir, are an escaped convict or not, and with that Mr. Filmer has nothing to do."
"That is not the whole question," replied Dudley. "When that is all made clear, it will remain to be seen whether these men have acted properly in taking me into custody without a warrant, and without information on oath. I might also add, that they sought, in the first instance, doubtless by the advice of the same worthy informer, to take me four miles hence, to Mr. Conway, when they apprehended me on the very grounds of Brandon."
"That was wrong," said Sir Arthur. "Pray, who told you to do that, constable?"
"Why, Mr. Filmer, sir," answered the man.
"Ah! here he comes to answer for himself," observed the baronet as the door opened; but instead of Mr. Filmer, it was the baronet's son who appeared, and walking straight up to Dudley, he shook hands with him warmly.
Sir Arthur eyed him for a moment with a look of displeasure, and perhaps would have fain closed the doors of the library against any farther audience; but he felt that there were many circumstances which might render such a step injudicious; and turning to one of the constables, he said, in a hurried manner, "Send for Mr. Filmer again; say I desire to speak with him. Pray be seated, Mr. Dudley," he continued, in a more courteous tone than he had hitherto used. "I could certainly have wished that this case had been brought before Mr. Conway, or any other magistrate, rather than myself; for the feelings of friendship which I have always entertained towards you, may throw a suspicion of partiality over my proceedings. But I shall try to avoid the reality as far as possible, and deal with the matter in hand according to the principles of justice and common sense."
Dudley felt a little indignant at this speech, well understanding the quality of the friendship which Sir Arthur expressed towards him; but a portion of contempt mingled with his indignation, for he was aware that hypocrisy has its origin in weakness more frequently than in art. Cunning is the refuge of the feeble. He sat down, therefore, in silence, merely bowing his head; and the moment after Mr. Filmer entered the room.
Whether he had obtained any hint of what was occurring, or whether shrewd perception supplied the place of information, I know not; but his course was evidently chosen from the moment he entered the room. His step was, as usual, calm and easy, silent, but firm; and turning a cold, stern glance upon Dudley, he advanced to the table where Sir Arthur Adelon sat, and said at once, without giving any one time to explain, "I am very happy, Sir Arthur, to see that the constables have done their duty upon the information which I afforded them last night, although I perceive they have not attended to my warning, nor carried before Mr. Conway a case upon which I knew it would be very painful for you to decide."
As he spoke, his eyes again turned towards Dudley for a moment, and he saw an expression upon that gentleman's face which did not satisfy him. It was an expression of tranquil, almost contemptuous calmness. Dudley seemed rather amused than not; but if the priest was not well pleased with the look of the prisoner, he was still less so with a word that sounded close in his ear. "Hypocrite!" said a low voice, and turning round, he saw Edgar Adelon close beside him.
"Did you apply that term to me, my son?" said Mr. Filmer, almost in a whisper.
With a stern, contracted brow, the young man slowly bent his head in sign of affirmation, and then withdrew a step, leaving him alone.
"Pray, Mr. Filmer," said Dudley, rising, "though the question may appear a little irregular, and not bearing on the points at issue, may I ask how you obtained certain information of my return to this country, so as, without making oath or taking out a warrant against me, to send constables to apprehend me?"
"The questionisirregular," said the priest, sternly; but the moment after, a gleam of bitter satisfaction came into his eyes, and he added, "I can tell you if you desire it, nevertheless; but if you will take my advice you will not inquire;" and he looked round to Edgar Adelon with one of his serpent sneers, which seemed but the more intense from the assumed mildness and tranquillity of every feature but the lip. Edgar at once quitted the room, but Dudley replied--
"Sir, having nothing whatsoever to fear, I will beg you to give the information I desired."
Mr. Filmer seemed to hesitate for a moment, and turned a look towards Sir Arthur Adelon, who answered it by saying, "Pray do; this matter must be investigated to the bottom."
"Be it so, then," said Mr. Filmer. "Yesterday evening I chanced, as is frequently my custom, to wander forth to the old Priory, wishing, as who might not wish, to spend a short time in meditation, perhaps in prayer, upon the spot and amidst the scenes where holy men, ay, and martyrs, too, have trod the earth with their feet and watered it with their blood, and addressed their petitions to heaven. I was sitting, lost in thought, when I heard voices near, and looking forth I saw a party, consisting of two gentlemen and a lady. Shall I give their names?" he continued; and he fixed his eyes firmly upon Dudley.
"Decidedly," replied the prisoner; although perhaps, to say the truth, he was not quite well pleased at the idea of his conversation with Eda having been overheard.
"Certainly, certainly," replied Lord Kingsland, who seemed for the moment to have the parliamentary spirit strong upon him. "Name, name!"
"Pray give them," said Sir Arthur Adelon, although his feelings were not very comfortable.
"One gentleman was Mr. Dudley," replied the priest, slowly; "the other was your son, Sir Arthur; the lady's name perhaps I had better not mention."
"She will name it herself," said Eda Brandon, entering the room, leaning upon Edgar's arm. "I was the person, my dear uncle, who was with Edgar and Mr. Dudley at the Priory; and I was exceedingly glad," she continued, crossing over to Dudley and giving him her hand, "to congratulate him on his safe return to England."
Dudley retained the fair, small hand she offered, in his own for a moment or two; and there they stood together, she with her colour a good deal heightened, and he with his eyes full of bright and proud satisfaction. It had required a great effort; but all that she had said was calm and lady-like and nothing more. She had made no avowal of attachment; she had tried to banish the tone, the look, the manner of affection; but those who were around and marked the blush upon her cheek, the light in Dudley's eyes, doubted not for one instant the spring of love, from the depths of which those bright bubbles rose to the surface.
Sir Arthur Adelon looked utterly confounded; and Eda, seeing, with some embarrassment, that all eyes were fixed upon her, said, in a somewhat faltering tone, but which grew stronger and firmer as she went on, "I am afraid, my dear uncle, that I have intruded where I have little business; but Edgar having told me; in his enthusiastic way, that Mr. Filmer was likely to make a mystery of that in which there is really none, I came to sweep all such things away; for there is nothing that I should more dislike than any of my actions being made a secret of. When all this is over, Mr. Dudley," she continued, turning towards him, "I shall be most happy to welcome you to Brandon; indeed, breakfast is already waiting;" and she was retiring from the room, when her uncle exclaimed, "Stay, Eda, stay! All this is most extraordinary! Pray, then, did you know that this gentleman had returned?"
"Perfectly," answered Eda. "I was aware that he had come back in the same ship with Edgar, and that he had suffered shipwreck with him, after having endured two years of undeserved hardship, brought upon him by the basest machinations of a designing man."
She would not look at Filmer while she spoke, for the strong, earnest love of her heart, had raised the spirit of indignation in her, which she feared might appear too clearly; and turning away she quitted the library.
"What is the meaning of all this?" asked Sir Arthur Adelon, looking at his son. "There seems to be a serious accusation against some one, but what it is I cannot divine."
"It is, I believe, a very common case, Sir Arthur," answered Mr. Filmer; "ingratitude to those who have served and benefited us; suspicion of those who have dealt honestly for our own good against our inclination; and slander of the innocent in order to shield the guilty; but the simple question before you, I believe, is, without considering any idle attack upon me, or defence equally idle, whether that person standing there is or is not an offender, under the sentence of the law, escaped from the country and the punishment to which the law assigned him."
"I can answer that question at once," said Captain M----; "and you must forgive me for speaking, notwithstanding your message, my dear Dudley. I first knew that gentleman, Sir Arthur, in the quality of the Nameless Fisherman by the Nameless Lake. I afterwards had the pleasure of seeing him at the Government House, at Hobart Town, with his character cleared from all stain, and his name and honour as bright and proud as that of any gentleman in the land. I can testify that he received a pardon under the great seal, in consequence of being clearly proved innocent of an offence for which he had been wrongly condemned."
"Then I have no farther business here," said Mr. Filmer, with perfect tranquillity of tone and look. "I could not be aware of the circumstances under which Mr. Dudley had returned; and I suppose that no one will deny I acted properly, in pointing out to the officers of justice a person whom I believed to have escaped from the due punishment of a great offence."
"Stay one moment," said Dudley, "I have not yet done with you, sir. I have a charge to make against you, and a very heavy one."
Mr. Filmer's face might turn a shade or two paler; for it is a difficult thing, when, through a long life, one has been acting a deep and criminal part, to see even the chance of exposure, and yet so rule the heart, that the blood will not fly back to it in alarm. Habitual success may do something; the confidence of tried skill and known power may do something likewise; and the custom of concealing emotion may still rule words, and tones, and actions, and even looks; but that subtle thing, whatever it is, which sometimes sends the warm stream of life rushing in an instant through every vein to the face, and at others, calls it suddenly back to the deep well of the heart, cannot be so commanded. The vagueness of a charge, too, does greatly add to its terrifying influence upon one who has been a hypocrite from the beginning. All his powers of mind, be they what they may, are but as a small garrison in a ruined fortress, attacked by a large army. Every evil act that he has committed, every false word that he has spoken, has made a breach in his own walls of defence. He knows not at what feeble and unguarded point he may be attacked, for he has himself raised up an innumerable host to assail him; his own crimes are his own enemies, and in proportion to their multitude must be his fears.
Mr. Filmer did turn somewhat paler than he was before; but so calm was his whole aspect, that no one marked the change but Dudley and Edgar Adelon, whose keen eyes were fixed upon his face the whole time.
"Well, sir," he said, turning towards his accuser, "I shall be very ready to hear and answer the charge, as I know it must be groundless; but will you allow me to suggest that it should be made at a later hour of the day. You are aware that I am an early riser, and I have not yet broken my fast. My appetite, too, is good, considering my years."
"It seems, sir, that you wished to increase mine by a walk of four miles," replied Dudley; "but this matter is serious, and cannot be turned off lightly. I will make the charge whenever Sir Arthur Adelon thinks fit to receive it; but I do not lose sight of you till it is made."
"Then am I to consider it as of a criminal nature, and cognizable by a magistrate?" demanded the baronet, very much discomposed.
"Such as must lead you, if it be even in part established," replied Dudley, "to commit this person to prison, or at all events, to require bail for his appearance."
"Then I would much prefer that the charge should be made before another magistrate," said Sir Arthur; but Dudley, Edgar, and the priest himself, interfered, the two former somewhat eagerly, and the latter with the slightly sarcastic tone which marked his replies when he was not well pleased.
"As my accuser has no objection, Sir Arthur," he said, "I must add my voice to his. I at least do not suspect you of partiality; but the great question with me at present is breakfast. I know you have not yet taken any yourself, my kind friend; and although I do not bear any ill will to Mr. Dudley on account of whatever accusations he may bring against me either for pastime or revenge, I certainly shall be very angry with him if he interrupts our pleasant morning meal, which was always, I must say, a very tranquil one till he first set his foot in this house."
"That is true, at least," said Sir Arthur, in a low tone. But Edgar interfered again, observing, "You had better, perhaps, join Eda in the breakfast-room, my dear father. Dudley, she will be happy, as you heard, to see you there; and after the meal we can proceed with this unfortunate business."
"An exceedingly good motion, and one for which I shall certainly vote!" exclaimed Lord Kingsland, rising.
And then, turning to Captain M----, he added, in a low voice, "I think, M----, if we ever intended, in the private theatricals of Brandon, to perform the Rivals, we may spare ourselves the trouble!"
"I had no part in the cast," replied Captain M----, "though I am very sure, my good lord, there are more private theatricals going on in every house in the land than we generally imagine."
"Ever moralizing I ever moralizing!" said the peer, with an air of easy persiflage. And he took his way to the breakfast-room, followed by the rest of the party.
There was a certain degree of agitation upon Eda's beautiful face, when the party from the library entered the room where she sat; but that agitation did not take one particle from the grace of her demeanour; and in a few minutes all were seated round the table. As usual, where there is a great deal of vanity, there was a certain portion of spite in Lord Kingsland's nature; and on the present occasion it did not sleep. Ho was mortified at losing the hand of the heiress of Brandon, and he took care to make the person who was likely to cause that loss feel all that was painful in his position to the utmost. Not, indeed, that he ever dreamed that Eda would give, or that Sir Arthur would suffer her to give, her hand to one who had been a convict; that was a thing quite out of the question, in his opinion. It might be supposed, therefore, that he would not easily be led to give up the pursuit in which he had engaged, as a marriage with the heiress had always been looked upon by him merely as a matter of convenience; but in every man's mind there is some peculiar prejudice of that sort commonly called crotchet, generally proceeding from vanity, and in his case decidedly so. He thought Eda Brandon exceedingly beautiful; but still he had not husbanded the fine feelings of the heart so carefully as to be capable of love. Nevertheless, Lord Kingsland would on no account have married a woman who had loved another. He did not like that any man on earth should be able to say of his wife, "She was once engaged to me;" and how much less would he have liked it to be said that Lady Kingsland had been in love with aconvict!
As that could not be, the only consolation he could find under his little disappointment was to make Eda and Dudley feel that the latter had been a convict, and would ever by his fellow-men be regarded as a convict. He became exceedingly curious, on a sudden, about Van Dieman's Land, asked innumerable questions in regard to Hobart Town, and even ventured upon Norfolk Island. Convict discipline became a matter of great interest to him; and to hear him speak upon the subject, of which he knew nothing, one would have thought that he was a great philanthropical legislator.
Dudley answered his questions with calm gravity; but yet he could not help feeling, with painful acuteness, that the world, the bitter, slanderous world, had got its fangs in his flesh, with a hold that nothing could shake off; that a stain had been placed upon his name most unjustly, which, though it might be erased, would still leave a trace behind.
With the sharp and clear perception of woman, Eda understood the motives in which the peer's conduct originated, and felt both contempt and anger. The only effect which it produced upon her own conduct, however, was to make her demeanour to Dudley more marked and tender. Eda Brandon never flirted in her life, and there was something very distinct from anything of that sort in her behaviour on the present occasion; but she felt that it was due to Dudley, when she saw him so unfairly annoyed, to take her stand, as it were, by his side, and to let her affection for him be perfectly undisguised.
The other gentlemen who were in the room, and who had not been present at the scene which had taken place in the library, seemed amazingly puzzled at all they now witnessed. In addition to everything else, Sir Arthur Adelon was evidently ill at ease, and Edgar was stern, silent, and almost sharp in his replies when forced to speak.
Mr. Filmer was the only one who maintained his usual placid demeanour, and he did that perfectly; for, alas! it is a very fatal error to believe that the external appearance of calm tranquillity is always an indication of a heart at peace with itself. The priest made a fuller breakfast than usual, conversed agreeably with those around him, and gave no indication of having any cause for anxiety or even deep thought within. Before the meal was fully over, however, a servant came in and announced that Mr. Clive and his daughter were there; and Dudley could perceive that Filmer's face turned deadly pale.
"Show them in," said Sir Arthur. "I am very glad they have returned."
"Who is Mr. Clive?" asked the young baronet, whom I have mentioned once before, and while Sir Arthur was answering, "Oh! he is a gentleman of very old family, but of somewhat reduced circumstances," the priest arose quietly, and saying, in a low tone, "I am glad they have come too; I want much to speak with Clive for a few minutes," moved, with his usual noiseless step, towards the door.
But Edgar Adelon suddenly sprang up from the table, and placed himself in the way. "That cannot be suffered," he exclaimed. "You must remain here, sir."
"You! This from you, Edgar!" exclaimed Mr. Filmer, drawing back with an air of astonishment, if not really felt, certainly well assumed.
"Yes!" answered Edgar, "and more too; for where I once esteemed----"
What he was about to add was stopped by the entrance of Mr. Clive and Helen, who sprang forward to Eda Brandon as to a sister. Sir Arthur greeted Mr. Clive himself, with his usual kind, but somewhat stately air; and Mr. Filmer approached with a degree of eagerness which in him betokened no slight agitation, as if to welcome Mr. Clive, holding out his hand to him at the same time. But Clive drew back, and looking sternly at the priest, said, "Excuse me, sir; there are matters which require explanation before I can either look upon you as my friend, or listen to you as my pastor."
"What can be the meaning of all this?" exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon. "Explain, Clive: I am in the dark."
"Ay, let him explain," answered Mr. Filmer, setting his teeth tight; "I can give a sufficient account of my own conduct and my own motives, and do not fear any explanations." But his clouded brow and unwonted manner showed that there was something which he had wished concealed, but which could be no longer hidden.
"If you wish it, sir, my conduct can all be easily explained," said Clive; and then, turning towards Sir Arthur, he was going on, when his eyes suddenly fell upon Dudley, and advancing towards him, he took his hand in his own, and pressed it, with a grave look, saying, "Mr. Dudley, I am delighted to see you back in your own country again, and free from all stain or reproach. Believe me, had I known that a false charge had been brought against you, had it not been studiously concealed from me by the most artful and the most infamous means, you should not have laboured for one hour under an imputation from which I can free you, This I am sure you know, and you now know also who it was that did the deed for which you have suffered so severely; but what you do not know, perhaps, is, the man whom you see there standing before you, urged me to fly, knowing that the act was mine, and the very same night contrived means to turn the charge against you."
Mr. Filmer took a step towards them where they stood, and exclaimed, with a solemn and impressive air, "Clive, Clive, my friend! You are suffering a generous nature to betray you into most ungenerous acts. I wish those words had been spoken by heretical lips, rather than yours. Have you no respect for the religion you profess, or for its ministers, that when one of them did you an act of great kindness, you should use it as a charge against him? Tell me, did I not, the moment I knew what you had done, did I not, I say, come down, at a late hour of the night, to comfort and counsel you? I did advise you to fly; I acknowledge it; but it was in consideration of your own safety that I did so; for let me tell you, my son, that even in this land, which boasts so much of its equity and its justice, it is no slight thing to kill a peer of the realm. As soon as I was told who it was that had done it, I went down for the sole purpose of advising you to fly, as the only means of saving you from detection and punishment."
"May I ask you, sir," said Dudley, "as this seems to be an explanation rather than an examination, who was the man from whom you derived your information?"
"You are very ignorant, sir, it would appear," replied Filmer, with an air of reproof, "of the rules and principles of a church of which you are accustomed to express contempt and abhorrence, otherwise you would know that a priest does not break the seal of confession. To give you, or any one else, the name, would be a violation of that important law."
"And did you really know who it was that killed Lord Hadley?" demanded Sir Arthur Adelon, in a tone of surprise.
"I did, sir. What then?" replied Mr. Filmer, with a stern look, laying a somewhat menacing emphasis upon the words.
"Nay, nothing," replied Sir Arthur Adelon; but Dudley went on, sternly saying, "It is unnecessary, Mr. Filmer, to violate the seal of confession, for we know the name of your informant already, and in this deposition you will find all the facts. I am inclined to imagine that Daniel Connor is even now in this house, but if you will examine that paper, you will see that he has already deposed to his having told you the whole truth, and to your having come down to him afterwards, to induce him to put his evidence in such a shape as to bring the charge upon me rather than upon Mr. Clive. Now, Sir Arthur Adelon, this is something like a subornation of witnesses, and it can be proved by the man's own statement."
"You are labouring under a mistake, young gentleman," said Filmer, now driven to bay. "For his own sake and his safety I certainly did recommend to Daniel Connor to go up and give his evidence spontaneously, in order that no suspicion should attach to himself. He said, if I recollect rightly, that the man who had done the deed was very much of the same height as yourself, but when he swore that, he swore truly."
"Doubtless," replied Dudley; "but he states that he could have told exactly who did it, and would have told, if it had not been for your persuasions to the contrary."
"This seems a very bad case," said Lord Kingsland, speaking to Edgar Adelon. "If the animus can be proved, it will assume a serious complexion."
Without replying directly to the peer, Edgar stepped forward, and addressing Mr. Filmer, demanded, "Did you, or did you not, sir--when you knew that I was seeking for evidence, and had nearly obtained it, to show before a jury the impossibility of Mr. Dudley having committed the offence with which he was charged--did you not cause me to be watched, followed, and apprehended, after a struggle, in which my life was nearly endangered; and did you not afterwards deceive me grossly, as to the time when the trial was to be brought on, and take every means of preventing me from accomplishing the end I had in view? Now, sir, you cannot deny it, and if you can, I will convict you by the testimony of your own spy. Your conduct towards members of your own flock might be explained away, perhaps, but this proves your object, if it does not prove your motives."
"Are you not of my own flock?" asked Mr. Filmer, in a tone of reproach. "My son, I am sorry to hear of such a defalcation."
Edgar paused, gazing silently in his face for a moment; and then, with a sudden start, he replied, "I will not have the question turned from the straightforward course. Your object was, I say, to load an innocent man with a false charge, to deprive him of all means of establishing his innocence, and to see him condemned and suffer for that of which you knew him to be guiltless."
He spoke impetuously; but there was a truth, a sincerity, an earnestness in his whole tone and manner, which carried conviction to the hearts of those who heard it; and at a mere glance round, Mr. Filmer gathered enough, from the faces of the somewhat numerous auditory, to show him that he was condemned by the judgment of all present. But he quailed not; his brow grew stern, his look lofty, and he replied, in a loud, almost imperious tone, "My object was, sir, to save you, and to save that lady from the wiles of the artful and ambitious: that is the great object that I have had in view in every act of mine which concerned that person."
But his reply only still farther roused Edgar's indignation. "Of me, sir," he said, "you shall say what you like; but do not attempt again to mix my dear cousin's name with this business. With her, at least, you have nothing to do, except that, knowing you all along to be what you are, she has tolerated you in her house out of respect for my father; but I think if she had known, and my father had known, how deeply and shamelessly you have injured him, and injured one who is now a saint in heaven, she would never have suffered you to enter her gates, and he would have spurned you from his door."
"What do you mean? whom do you mean?" exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon, starting forward, with a face as pale as ashes, and eyes haggard with intense emotion. "Whom do you mean, my son? Whom do you mean, my Edgar?"
"My mother," answered Edgar Adelon, in a slow and solemn tone; and almost as he spoke the words, Sir Arthur reeled and fell at his feet.
The scene of confusion that ensued after the event related in the last chapter is not to be described. Every one crowded round Sir Arthur Adelon, and he was speedily raised and placed upon the sofa. Servants were called, water was sprinkled in his face, and all the usual restoratives were had recourse to for some time in vain. He opened his eyes faintly, indeed, for a moment, but he seemed instantly to relapse, and a servant was sent off in haste to Barhampton for the surgeon who usually attended him; for the only person who seemed to be sure that it was an ordinary fainting fit, though one of a very severe kind, was Captain M----, who, with kind and judicious words, encouraged Eda and Edgar to pursue their efforts, assuring them that they would be finally successful.
At the end of half an hour Sir Arthur began to revive; and one or two of the guests, who had made their comfort yield to their politeness, then vacated the room, leaving only Captain M----, with Edgar, Dudley, Eda, and Helen. For some time the baronet seemed incapable of speaking, for though he looked round from time to time with an anxious glance, he remained perfectly silent, notwithstanding more than one inquiry as to how he felt. His first words, however, when he did speak, instantly recalled the subject which had interested them all so deeply the moment before he had fainted.
"Where is the priest?" he said. "Where is Father Peter?" And every one instantly looked round, and then, for the first time, perceived that he was gone. Eda would fain have diverted her uncle's attention from matters which she knew must be most painful to him; but Sir Arthur slowly raised himself upon the sofa, and would have got up entirely had his strength permitted, still repeating, "Where is he? where is he? Seek him, seek him! Do not let him escape!" Then pressing his hand upon his brow, he added, "Can it be true? It has been a frightful dream to me for many a long year. Seek him, seek him, somebody! Oh! if it be true, I will tear his heart out!"
Dudley and Captain M---- hurried away from the room to inquire for the priest, while Eda assured her uncle that she doubted not he would soon be found; but Edgar, looking from the back of the sofa behind which he was standing, shook his head with a stern and mournful expression of face, as if to express a strong doubt that such would be the case.
But little information of Father Filmer's movements could be obtained by Dudley and his companion from the servants. Some of them had seen him pass out of the breakfast-room, but not aware that any charge whatever had been brought against him, had taken no notice of so ordinary an occurrence. Others had seen him mount the staircase towards his own room, but when he was sought for there he was not found. No one had seen him quit the house, however; and though one or two of those who had lately come up the alley, or through the park, were questioned particularly on the subject, none could give any information, and every room to which it was supposed he might have betaken himself was examined in vain. Finding all their search fruitless, the two gentlemen at length returned to the breakfast-room, and found Sir Arthur half-seated, half-reclining on the sofa, but much more calm than he had been when they left him. He looked hard at Dudley for a moment without speaking, as if endeavouring to gain command over himself, and then said, in a cold and formal tone, "Pray be seated, sir. You have brought some serious charges against a gentleman who has long lived with me as a friend, ay, for more than five-and-twenty years. Had you concluded all you wished to say?"
"There were other charges, Sir Arthur," replied Dudley, "which in your eyes would be doubtless much more important. Those which I have brought affect myself alone; and though, perhaps, more immediately cognizant by the law, as coming nearly, if not quite, under the statute in regard to the subornation of evidence, is in my mind less criminal than his conduct towards you, whom, for the five-and-twenty years you speak of, he has deceived, betrayed, and injured. But on that subject, Sir Arthur, as I see it affects you much, it will be better to speak at a future period. Those charges which I have actually brought I am prepared to sustain immediately. Indeed, they can be proved at once by Mr. Clive, who is in the next room; or even this young lady," he continued, pointing to Helen, "can give you full information. But all this had better also be referred to another occasion, when you will be more able to give attention to the subject."
"His presence would be necessary," said Sir Arthur, leaning his head upon his hand. "But there is one question more, sir; one question more, and I have done for the present. Was it from you, sir, that my son derived the information which led him to utter the words he lately did?"
"No, assuredly," answered Dudley; "but I can see clearly that his words pointed to the same painful subject, in regard to which I also have charges to make of a most serious character. Where he obtained his information I cannot tell."
"From the same source whence yours was derived, Dudley," replied Edgar. "Only a few words were spoken; but connected with some old letters from my poor mother, they were enough to enlighten me as to much of the dark past."
Sir Arthur waved his hand as his son spoke, saying, "I cannot hear it now; I will go to my own room. Come with me, Edgar. I shall have the honour of seeing you again this evening, sir," he continued, turning to Dudley, who replied, with a slight degree of embarrassment of manner, "Assuredly, Sir Arthur, if you wish it; but if our farther conference is to be this evening, I must, I fear, be an intruder here till that time, for my present abode is near the place where we met shipwreck, twelve miles distant."
Sir Arthur Adelon was faint, agitated, and shaken; but yet a touch of his own self-important pride could not be repressed; and with an air by no means very well satisfied or altogether courteous, he replied, pointing to Eda, while he walked towards the door leaning on his son's arm, "That lady is mistress of herself and of this house, and doubtless she will be happy in having your society."
"Oh, my dear uncle!" said Eda, starting forward with a look of pain, "how can you speak such unkind words?"
"Well, well!" replied her uncle, kissing her brow, "I do believe you love me, Eda; but no more just now." And he slowly quitted the room.
As soon as he was gone, Eda turned towards Dudley, with many mingled emotions in her bosom, which, had it not been for the presence of others, would probably have found relief in tears and in his arms. As it was, she gave him her hand, saying, "You stay, of course, Dudley, and I trust will remain some days."
"I must stay till this task is accomplished," he replied, and he would fain have added the dear, familiar name which he ever called her in his heart; but the presence of Captain M---- restrained him, and he would not call her Miss Brandon. "I was not aware," he proceeded, "that the information I have to convey would pain your uncle so deeply as the effect of the few words spoken by Edgar make me fear it will, or I would not have undertaken the task. We make sad mistakes in life, I am afraid, in judging of the character of others. We are too apt to suppose that one great predominant passion or weakness swallows up all others; and yet I am convinced, that if we looked into the heart of any man, be he the most ambitious, the most avaricious, the most vain, the most proud, we should find some well of tenderness hidden under the rubbish of life, which, if opened out again, might pour forth fresh and pure waters to revivify and beautify all around."
"Oh! that we had many searchers for such wells," said Eda; "but it seems to me that men, in dealing with their fellow-men, rather labour to cover and hide them. But what can have become of Mr. Filmer? Do you think he has fled?"
"It would seem so," answered Dudley; "and yet I can hardly imagine that one who has gone on for so many years in successful hypocrisy, would yield the field after so brief a struggle."
"I do not know," said Captain M----; "it may be that he finds himself fully detected, and then what a mass of fraud and sin must present itself to memory, and terrify him with the prospect of exposure and punishment! I remarked that he stood firm before all the charges brought against him in regard to his infamous and criminal conduct towards you, Dudley. It seemed as if he thought that, upon some principle he could justify himself, at least, to himself, for acts the most base; but when Mr. Adelon uttered those few words about his mother, my eye was upon him, and he gave way at once. I saw him shake in every limb, and should certainly have watched him narrowly, to prevent his escape, had not Sir Arthur occupied all my attention. But now, I think, I will mount my horse, and riding round for a few miles, endeavour to obtain some information regarding this man's place of retreat. It surely will not be so difficult here to overtake a bushranger as it is in the fifth quarter of the globe, Dudley?"
As he spoke, Edgar re-entered the room with a quick step; but it was to Helen he now turned. He had only hitherto, throughout all the scenes which had taken place, spoken a few words to her, and given her one look; but the words and the look were both of love. He now led her at once into the deep window, and conversed eagerly with her, mingling inquiries about matters quite different with expressions of tenderness and affection.
"This bad man must be found, Helen, dearest," he said; "you look pale, love, and anxious. I am the more eager to find him, my beloved, because he has disgraced the religion which we hold, perverting its pure precepts to suit the dark, foul purposes of his own heart. Even were it not for that, my Helen, I would pursue him throughout life; for he poisoned the sources of my dear mother's happiness, and has turned the noble nature of my father to a curse. Nay, look not up so imploringly in my face, sweet love, with those dear reproachful eyes, as if you thought your Edgar fierce and stern. It is only that I am eager, Helen, very eager; I have ever been so: eager in love; eager, I trust, in pursuit of justice and right; eager in defence of innocence; and surely I may be eager in the punishment of iniquity and wrong? Helen will not think me very wrong for being so?"
"Wrong, Edgar!" she answered; "do you not know I think everything you do right? I never saw you do anything that was wrong from our infancy till now."
"Oh! yes, many a thing," answered Edgar; and then dropping his voice, he added: "When first I kissed those dear pouting lips, did you not tell me I was very wrong indeed? But, Helen, we must find this man, wherever he may be. I shall not rest in peace till I have made him, with his own lips, undo the wrong he did my mother. You know his haunts well. Tell me, love, where you think it most likely he would betake himself."
"Not to our house, certainly," answered Helen, "now that he knows we are aware of all his baseness to poor Mr. Dudley; and not to the cottage of Connor, unless it be to reproach him for exposing him. I really know not where he will go; surely not to the Priory!"
"No, I should think not," answered Edgar, musing. "But here comes your father. This night shall set his heart at ease."
"That will never be," replied Helen, with a very sorrowful look. "The death of that unhappy young man still rests like a heavy weight upon him. You have but to look into his face to see that it is bearing him down to the earth."
"I trust your happiness, dear Helen, may cheer him," answered her lover; "and to secure that shall be Edgar's task."
Advancing towards Clive as he spoke, he put nearly the same questions to him which he had put to Helen, regarding the probable course which Mr. Filmer had pursued.
"I should have thought he was more likely to turn and stand at bay than to fly," replied Mr. Clive; "but if he has fled, it will be far, depend upon it."
"Then the more reason for seeking for him immediately," exclaimed Edgar. "Come, Captain M----, let you and I set out. If I find him, I will venture to apprehend him without warrant, and risk whatever may be the result."
"There may be some risk, it is true," replied Captain M----, "for it does not seem to me that he has committed any offence clearly cognizable by a magistrate. Indeed, I am afraid some of the greatest crimes that men can perpetrate have never yet been placed within the grasp of the law. But let us go; I will take my share of the responsibility." And leaving the little party in the breakfast-room, they went out to pursue their search.