CHAPTER XVI.
Five years have passed since Mabel Arden was placed under the care of Mrs. Sampson; and she was now seventeen years of age. For the last six months she had quitted school, and remained under the care and protection of Madame Volney, who, with her daughter Agatha, resided in a pretty villa in the immediate vicinity of Southampton. Madame Volney’s income was five hundred a-year, having placed the large sum of money she had had bequeathed to her in the hands of Mr. Stanmore, who had invested it for her very advantageously.
The thousand pounds so generously left by Lieutenant O’Loughlin and our hero for Mabel’s benefit Mr. Stanmore also placed out at interest; and what the interest lacked in amount to discharge the expense of her schooling, the solicitor paid himself, so that the little capital remained untouched, Mr. Stanmore feeling satisfied that Mabel would in the end be able to establish her rights, and recover interest and principal out of the Etherton estates; but as to forcing Sir Godfrey to acknowledge his niece without certain proofs of her birth, &c., was out of the question.
About two years after the placing of Mabel at school, Sir Godfrey Etherton became somewhat embarrassed, through the imprudence of his son-in-law, Lord Coldburgh and Philip Etherton, who were fast friends, the former having induced his brother-in-law to join him in a security for fourteen thousand pounds—racing debts—which his lordship declared were to be paid for out of the proceeds of an estate in Dorsetshire, to be sold immediately. Unfortunately his lordship’s creditors, thinking he lived much too fast, brought matters to a close, and laid hands on all the property, politely requesting Mr. Philip Etherton to take up the bond for fourteen thousand pounds.
This Mr. Etherton could not do. Lord and Lady Coldburgh, in the end, were compelled to retire to a mansion his lordship possessed in Yorkshire and live (starve they styled it), on four hundred a year, the creditors having allowed them that sum from the property till the whole of the debts were paid off, which would not be for a term of fourteen years. Sir Godfrey Etherton had to pay a sum of nine thousand pounds, it being proved that part of the fourteen thousand pounds included gambling debts of his son. The baronet felt this severely, being both a penurious and heartless man, for he was quite satisfied in his mind that Mabel was his niece; but he was in great hopes that having lost the contents of the casket, and her mother being, as he believed, guillotined, he should never hear more of her claims.
The baronet insisted on his son giving up his racing associatesand extravagant mode of life, fixing upon some wealthy heiress, and winding up his future by marriage. But Mr. Philip Etherton’s career was destined to be a very short one; the year after, whilst shooting with a friend, in loading his double-barrelled gun, the loaded barrel, by some unaccountable accident, went off, and the contents lodged in the brain of the unfortunate young man, killing him on the spot. This terrible catastrophe plunged the Etherton family into deep despondency. Sir Godfrey appeared to feel it as a judgment upon him for his cruelty and injustice to his orphan niece, and yet he strove in his own mind to convince himself that he acted from principle; “for why,” he argued, “should I receive a young girl as my niece simply upon a woman’s word, who may be, and no doubt is, an impostor?”
The baronet, immediately after the death of his eldest son, removed Howard Etherton from the navy, and he returned home. Sir Godfrey’s troubles and anxiety of mind respecting his brother’s wife and child brought on a heart disease, and in less than five years from Mabel’s residence in England he was gathered to his fathers, and Howard Etherton succeeded to the title and estates.
During those five years so eventful to the Etherton family, Mabel Arden was growing up into an exquisitely lovely and accomplished girl. The first two years she constantly looked forward to either hearing from or seeing her never-forgotten mother; but as time passed on, and no tidings could be gained from France, convulsed as it was to its centre, and a fierce war raging between the two countries, she began to despair. As she advanced towards womanhood her feelings for her young protector she felt, though she scarcely knew how, were undergoing a great change; the childish love was maturing itself in her young and most affectionate heart. The mere mention of his name caused the rich blood to rush to her cheek, and a deep anxiety stole over her when news arrived of the English fleet, or engagements between any of the French and English ships. Four years had elapsed since she had seen William Thornton, as she still called him, though convinced his real name was Oscar de Bracy, and that they were cousins.
To Mr. Stanmore’s excessive vexation, news reached England of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s death taking place at the Cape of Good Hope. The solicitor, fearing that such a catastrophe might occur, had taken the precaution to send out letters by a Government vessel, detailing all the circumstances of our hero’s story as related to him by Lieutenant O’Loughlin, by William Thornton, and Lord Hood’s coxswain; as well as Madame Volney’s account of the finding of the picture of himself round the neck of the child. In fact, he omitted no circumstancelikely to convince the most sceptical of the identity of William Thornton’s being Sir Oscar de Bracy’s son. Whether the baronet received these letters and documents before his death Mr. Stanmore remained ignorant, and would remain so, till the frigate that was under Sir Oscar’s orders should return to England. The lawyer was also aware that the baronet, as governor of ——, must have accumulated a considerable sum, his large salary and emoluments, together with a vast amount of prize money, would constitute a fortune in themselves. The Duchess de Coulancourt, therefore, in default of heirs direct, would no doubt be entitled to his property if he died without a will.
Mabel Arden felt acutely, particularly on our hero’s account, this untoward event of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s death. She knew he would deeply deplore it, for his most ardent desire was to be acknowledged by his father. The last letters Mabel and Agatha Volney had received from the two friends were just previous to the Diamond frigate’s visit to Brest harbour. William Thornton wrote with all the sincerity and truth of an affectionate brother; the fondest sister could find no fault with the tone and tenor of his long and affectionate letter. But there was nothing of love in it: how could there be? She was scarcely more than thirteen when they parted, and yet Mabel was in her heart disappointed; and her cheeks glowed as she detected her feelings.
Agatha Volney, a light-hearted, affectionate, generous girl, loved her intended husband, Lieutenant O’Loughlin, with true affection, and looked forward with cheerfulness and hope to his being made a commander—the time fixed upon for their union.
William Thornton, in his letter, observing that delays were dangerous, playfully hinted that O’Loughlin’s whiskers were turning into a greyish tint, and that if Agatha waited ten years longer, they would be of a uniform colour, and the commandership still in the clouds.
Not long after the receipt of these letters, the inmates of the villa were startled, and most agreeably surprised, by the entrance of O’Loughlin himself. Agatha and Mabel were alone in the drawing-room when he entered; before a word could be said he threw his arm round the blushing, but delighted Agatha, and kissed her with fond affection, saying—
“I am entitled to this; I am, by Jove! I have been made commander.”
Then looking around, he perceived the tall and graceful form of Mabel Arden; he gazed at her for a moment bewildered; her extreme loveliness, and sweet expressive features, amazed him.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed; “and yet the eyes are those of Miss Arden.”
“Yes,” said Mabel, with her sweet, captivating smile, and extending her hand to the delighted sailor; “I am Mabel. You cannot have forgotten the little deserted girl you so generously and nobly protected.”
“Forgot!” exclaimed the sailor, kissing the hand held out to him; “that would be impossible. St. Patrick, if William were here, he would no longer say you were—hem—hem——”
Commander O’Loughlin coughed; he was on the point of saying his friend Thornton thought the beautiful girl before him was plain.
Mabel laughed; and shaking her head, she said playfully—
“Oh, I know that dear William thinks his little sister is plain. What then? Beauty is not the lot of all.”
“Beauty!” exclaimed O’Loughlin; “by the immortal gods——”
“Take care,” exclaimed Agatha Volney, shaking her finger at her lover, “how you call upon the immortal gods in speaking of the beauty of any other fair one, except your liege lady’s; so sit down, quietly and contentedly, and tell us about yourself and friend, and relate all your wonderful adventures.”
The delighted O’Loughlin sat down beside his fair betrothed, with Mabel on the other side, and commenced a recital of the several events that had occurred since their separation.
Before he had concluded Madame Volney and Mr. Stanmore were announced.
Mr. Stanmore informed his friends of the arrival of the frigate from the Cape, saying—
“I am happy to tell you she brings all the necessary documents, papers, &c., that I was so very anxious about. Most fortunately, or rather, providentially, my letters reached Sir Oscar before his death, and their contents imparted to his last hours soothing gratification and consolation, and his life was spared to complete and sign every necessary paper before proper witnesses. I will show you by-and-by his letter to me. It seems he was not aware that his sister was alive and had married a Mr. Granby Arden, and afterwards became Duchess of Coulancourt, by a second marriage with a French duke, and that she had a daughter living. He made his will, drawn up by an eminent solicitor at the Cape, and finally disposed of his immense property, acknowledging with grateful thanks the goodness of Providence in permitting him to recognise and acknowledge William Thornton as his son and heir.”
“I see no difficulty,” continued Mr. Stanmore, “in proving Mr. Thornton’s right to the name and title of Sir Oscar DeBracy. The will shall be opened and read in a few days, and I wish you, Commander O’Loughlin, to be present.”
We will here merely state the principal points in the will of the late Sir Oscar De Bracy: excepting a legacy of ten thousand pounds to his niece, Mabel Arden, five thousand to Mr. Patrick O’Loughlin, and a thousand each to his two solicitors, and ample donations to four attached domestics, the whole of his estates and remaining property were bequeathed to his son, known as William Thornton.
To his will was added a solemn declaration, before four witnesses, that he felt perfectly satisfied and convinced that the proofs of his son’s preservation and his identity with William Thornton were most satisfactorily explained, and most clear as to dates, and that the picture found round the child’s neck was one he left with Lady De Bracy a short period before his departure for India.
Captain O’Loughlin was greatly moved by this last mark of Sir Oscar’s esteem and remembrance, whilst Mabel deeply deplored that one so kind-hearted and noble should have undergone such trials; and that, just as his heart became relieved by the joyous intelligence received of his son’s being still in existence, when life would have been a boon, the destroyer should have laid his hand on his victim.
“But we are not to murmur,” she said; “it is not upon earth we are to seek or expect our reward for trials; we must look higher.”
Captain O’Loughlin’s marriage was postponed for twelve months. Neither he nor Agatha could think of their union taking place till the usual time for mourning for his generous benefactor had expired.
Three weeks passed calmly and pleasantly with Agatha Volney and her lover, who by this time had become an excellent French scholar; though Agatha excelled him in her knowledge of the English language. Mabel was anxious to hear some news of our hero; for generally the frigates cruising off the French ports returned at intervals to Plymouth and Falmouth, or vessels arrived with intelligence of their movements.
One morning Captain O’Loughlin, who was remaining at Southampton, and generally walked to the villa to breakfast, took aTimesnewspaper from his pocket.
“I have not had time to look at the naval intelligence this morning,” said the Captain, “and I am really anxious——”
“And so am I,” said Mabel, with a slight increase of colour; “there has been no news of any kind for many days.”
“Ha! be the immortal powers, this is startling!”
“What is it?” exclaimed Mabel, looking pale and frightenedat seeing the evident agitation of Captain O’Loughlin. “Pray do not hide anything from me, Mr. O’Loughlin. You are reading of some mishap to the Diamond?”
Captain O’Loughlin did look not only anxious, but exceedingly excited; but having once incautiously spoken out, he thought the best plan would be to state the facts. So, taking the paper, he read out a rather startling account of the capture of Sir Sidney Smith, Lieutenant Thornton, and Midshipman Westly Wright, in an attempt to cut out the celebrated privateer, Vengeance, from Havre, besides naming several men, either killed, wounded, or prisoners.
“The Diamond cruised for several days off the coast,” continued the paper; “and the night after the unfortunate capture of Sir Sidney, those on board the frigate saw a vessel on fire in-shore; but before the Diamond could stand in sufficiently to make her out, the vessel must have been run ashore or consumed.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Captain O’Loughlin, after a brief pause, “here is later intelligence, headed, ‘Mysterious intelligence respecting the gallant attempt to cut out the Vengeance from the inner port of Havre.’”
“Two days,” continued the paper, “after the capture of the gallant Sir Sidney, and his equally high spirited officer, Lieutenant Thornton, whose name has already been several times before the public for gallant enterprises and fortunate results, the Diamond frigate seized a small fishing lugger out of Havre, for the purpose of gaining some intelligence of Sir Sidney, his officers, and crew.
“The captain of the lugger was very willing to communicate all he knew; but he said he was mystified himself with respect to the cutting out of the Vengeance, though he was on the spot the whole time; he knew that one officer and a young midshipman were landed at Havre, and marched on with their men to Rouen; he did not know whether there was any other officer left on board the Vengeance, but certainly only the captain and midshipman were landed, for he saw them himself.
“‘Late in the evening,’ continued the Frenchman, ‘Captain Gaudet, the skipper of the Vengeance, his mate, and the crew, came ashore, excepting four or five of the men left to take care of the privateer till their return with powder and shot, there being very little on board. About two hours after their arrival, a gun was fired, which gave the alarm to Captain Gaudet and his mate, and they at once started in their boats for their craft, but the vessel was under weigh, and nearly out of port.
“‘They pursued, and fired into her with muskets, and thefort was alarmed; but the lugger got clear away, and Captain Gaudet returned, cursing and swearing at his ill-luck, but giving no explanation that he heard.
“‘The very next day news arrived in Havre that the Vengeance had run ashore on Lyon Head Point in a sheet of flame, and was nearly consumed to the water’s edge, but not a human being was to be seen by the fishermen, who, as soon as it was daylight, clambered down the cliffs, where her entire hull was visible when the tide receded.
“‘I sailed two hours after this intelligence arrived,’ continued the captain of the fishing lugger; ‘therefore am quite unable to explain the mystery of the transaction.’ He also stated that Sir Sidney and his men had captured the Vengeance, but that wind and tide were against their taking her out; that they defended her in the most gallant manner, against overwhelming odds, for boats full of soldiers were sent out against them, besides an armed lugger.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mabel, her face very pale, and her voice trembling with emotion. “Can you understand, Captain O’Loughlin, what could have become of Lieutenant Thornton?”
“It is certainly very singular, and not very easily explained,” said Captain O’Loughlin. “Still, it appears to me that someway or another William Thornton must have taken the Vengeance to sea; who else could, for he was not taken ashore with Sir Sidney and the others, and there was no officer even wounded, except Midshipman Beecroft? How the Vengeance caught fire it is impossible for me to say, but if William was in her he has got ashore, and I should not be surprised but that with his knowledge of the French language he may manage to get safe out of the country. I wish to God I had been in the Diamond; I should have been tempted to run in to their rescue, even if I had lost the frigate in the attempt. But do not, I beg you, Mabel, take this so much to heart; I have every confidence in the gallantry and ingenuity of my friend; he will, if he is in France, work his way out of it. I wish I was with him. I am more vexed than I can tell you. I hoped when appointed to a ship to have had him for my first lieutenant; his interest with Lord Hood, and his own gallantry, would have made him a commander in six months.”
“But with his fortune and rank,” said Mabel, seriously, “why should he continue in the navy?”
“My dear Mabel,” said Agatha Volney, “neither rank nor wealth would have the least effect on Sir Oscar de Bracy, for I think we ought to give him the name he is entitled to; rank or fortune would weigh nothing in the balance with honour and glory. The navy is his pride and delight.”
“Be St. Patrick, you are right, Agatha!” said Captain O’Loughlin. “If you were to ask him which he would give up, wealth or profession, be the powers of war, he would say without hesitation, wealth, my beauty!”
“And pray, Mr., or rather Captain O’Loughlin,” said Agatha, “if you were asked which you would give up, your profession or Miss Agatha Volney, I suppose it would be—‘Be the powers of war, you, my beauty!’”
“Ah, you little deceiver!” said the Captain. “You know deuced well which way the vane would turn. Now, if my gallant young friend were once fairly caught in Cupid’s meshes, to the deuce with the profession, when that wicked deceiver hoists his flag.”
“And do you pretend to tell me, most redoubtable Commander,” said Agatha, demurely, “that you were never in love before, and you in your twenty-seventh year?”
“Faith, I can’t say that, fair Agatha,” said the Captain, with a smile. “You know I was six years a middy, and a mid is perpetually in love—that is, when he gets ashore, and sees a petticoat fluttering in the wind. But I must be off to London to-night; try and console Mabel, she looks very unhappy (our heroine had retired, leaving the lovers together); upon my conscience I’m afraid her little heart is beating with something more than cousinly love for my handsome friend.”
“And why should you say afraid?” asked Agatha. “Is there a lovelier girl in Great Britain than Mabel? When we spent a month at my sister’s, she was the admiration of all the visitors, and at the Great Election Ball at Exeter she created universal admiration. She could if she pleased have had the choice of two coronets.”
“I know that,” said Captain O’Loughlin; “and I say with you that a more beautiful or more amiable maiden there is not to be found; but you see, William—that is, Sir Oscar—I shall hail him under his right name; but as I was saying, Sir Oscar is one of the handsomest men you probably ever saw; the women are all in love with him. Whenever we get ashore, and mix in society, he cuts us all out, and you see he’s rather, I must confess, a leetle volatile—black, brown, and fair—and when I talk to him of Mabel he says, ‘I dare say she is a very nice amiable girl; but it’s preposterous to fancy myself in love with a little thing of thirteen. I love her with all my heart as a sister.’”
“I think, Master O’Loughlin,” said Agatha, with a smile, and shaking her finger at the captain, who immediately got possession of it, “I think you have been a rather giddy pair in the Cupid line; but I tell you what, I should like Sir Oscar to see our dear Mabel without knowing who she was; Iwould venture my hand, which, by-the-by, you are squeezing very hard—recollect my fingers are not ropes!”
“No, faith, nor those ruby lips marling spikes!”
“Come,” interrupted Agatha, jumping up with cheeks like a peony; “it is time you should go to London. I am afraid you will make but a very bad commander.”
“When I strike my colours to you, my sweet girl,” said the gallant Captain, gaily, “my commandership ceases; from that time I obey, not command.”