CHAPTER XVLEONIDAS
“What do you think of this case of young Bayard?” inquired the earl, as the two gentlemen drove back to the hotel.
“I cannot think! I have never in my life felt so amazed, so confused, and so uncertain! The sudden meeting of Anglesea——”
“Stukely, my dear friend! Stukely!” interrupted the earl.
“Stukely, then! the man we have known as Anglesea—and now known as the blockade runner, slaver and pirate—has—demoralized my mental faculties!” exclaimed Abel Force.
“Do you believe Bayard to be a voluntary confederate of the pirate?”
“No! no! If you put the question in that way, I say no! I do not believe it!”
“The young man was a protégé of yours, I have heard.”
“Yes.”
“Yet you do not know his parentage, or what traits of character he may have inherited, which may have been kept down by circumstances, and only wanted opportunity to spring into life and activity.”
“I have known Roland from boyhood; I have watched over him as over a dear son; and I have never seen a low, base, or false trait in his character. His words, his deeds, and his thoughts—so far as I could read them—have always been pure, and true, and high. I cannot think of him in any other light than that of my long knowledge of him—I said from his boyhood. I meant from his babyhood.”
“I hope the young fellow’s character may be vindicated. But his case looks very bad just at present.”
“I hope much from his old captain’s interview with him. Roland may be able to explain his position to our satisfaction. I shall wait anxiously for news from the captain. Or Le may be able to throw some light upon this subject. He may be able to tell us why Roland was brought home as a prisoner, instead of as a rescued man. We must wait for more light, Enderby.”
“Yes. In the meantime, shall you tell the poor little girl the truth of Bayard’s position? Is it necessary that she should be told, just at this point, when we know so little, and that little is so—perhaps—needlessly alarming?”
“No. I think not. I will not tell Rosemary that he is a prisoner. I must tell her only that he is alive and well, and that he will come to see us as soon as he can. Here we are at the hotel. And, thank Heaven! we have good news for Odalite! Our darling is free—absolutely free—and may marry her faithful betrothed to-morrow, if she pleases!” said Abel Force, as he alighted from the carriage, followed by the earl.
They went upstairs together, and entered the parlor, where they found Mrs. Force and the four young girls anxiously awaiting them.
“Did you find Le?” eagerly inquired Mrs. Force.
“Oh! did you find Roland?” breathed Rosemary, clasping her hands.
Odalite, Wynnette and Elva looked all the interest they did not put into words.
“No, my dears, we did not find Le, but we heard of him. He and Roland are both in the city, and both alive and well; and both will come to see us as soon after they shall have found out that we are in Washington as they possibly can,” said Mr. Force, throwing himself into a chair.
“Where are they now, papa, besides being in the city, which is a place of ‘magnificent distances,’ you know?” inquired Wynnette.
“My dear, Le is—everywhere—except here! Le is—ubiquitous! He is a will-o’-the-wisp! We have spent the day in following him about. He was on his ship—but when we got there he was gone to the navy department, and when we reached there he was off to the office of the commissioner of prisoners. When we arrived at the last-mentioned place he was gone back to the navy department. So we came here to report and get a little rest and refreshments, and then we are going down to the navy yard to board theArgenteand wait there until we see him. He is sure to turn up on theArgente—well—sooner or later, as he is in command.”
“And—Roland?” softly murmured Rosemary.
“Roland, my dear, is alive and well, but he does not know where you are any more than Le does. We must find Le and let him know that we are here,” said Mr. Force.
Then, with a total change of manner, he began:
“Come here, Odalite, my dear, and sit beside me. I have such good news for you as shall give you patience to wait for Le, if he does not come here for a week. But such news that, if he knew it, would bring him within an hour!”
Full of vague expectancy, Odalite came and threw herself down on the sofa beside her father, and looked up into his eyes.
“My dear Odalite, what would be the very best news that you could hear to-day?” he inquired.
Odalite gazed into his eyes, too much excited to speak. Fearing, indeed, to speak, lest his next words should disappoint her raised hopes, while Mrs. Force and every occupant of the room, except the earl, waited breathlessly.
“Oh, tell me, papa! tell me what you have to tell!” pleaded Odalite.
“Tell me, first, what would be the best news you could possibly hear to-day?” persisted Abel Force.
His daughter gazed into his face, while her color went and came—came and went; but she did not speak.
“Well, Odalite?” he inquired.
“Father,” she then answered, gravely, “the best news that I could hear, that any of us could hear to-day, would be that the war was ended, the country at peace, and the North and South friends again.”
“A conscientious reply, my dear. That would certainly be the best news that any of us could hear. But it is not the news that I have to tell, my love. Try again. My news is of a private nature, and concerns yourself. What would be the best news that you could hear concerning yourself?” persisted the squire.
“That I were free!”
The words came in a tone of impassioned aspiration that spoke volumes of the suffering the girl had endured under the incubus that darkened and oppressed her life.
“Then, my dear, hear it!” said the squire, earnestly.
“Odalite, you are free!”
“Father!”
The cry came from her soul, and it was echoed by her sisters and her friend.
“Abel!”
This was from his wife.
“Yes, my dears, it is true!” replied the squire. “Odalite is free!”
“Anglesea is dead, then? Our terrible enemy is dead!” exclaimed Elfrida Force, with a sigh of infinite relief.
“No, my dears, Anglesea is not dead, I thank Heaven! Long may that gallant soldier and true gentleman live to enrich humanity! But your enemy is dead to you,Odalite! You are free, my child! As free as either of your sisters! And you have always been free, my dearest dear, although I did not know it until to-day.”
“What is the meaning of all this?” demanded Elfrida Force, in a voice of doubt and pain.
“Tell your sister, Enderby. Tell them all—and all about it! I cannot. I am not equal to the task! I should talk like a fool!” said the squire, drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiping his brows.
Thus adjured, the earl looked around on the group of eager listeners, and said, addressing Mrs. Force:
“You may remember, Elfrida, how amazed and incredulous I was when you told me of the disgraceful career of one whom you called by the name of my nearest and dearest friend—Angus Anglesea.”
“Yes! yes!” eagerly exclaimed the lady.
“And with good reason was I thus amazed and incredulous! To think a gentleman of purest honor in one hemisphere should become an unmitigated scoundrel in another, was simply impossible! I did not, and could not, comprehend the enigma, and I did not try!”
“But sometimes you nearly lost your temper with us!” put in Mrs. Force.
“I did; because I thought you ought to have known my brother officer better than to have believed him guilty of all the crimes of which he was accused! Elfrida! I had forgotten one matter that might have cleared up the mystery at once! And that matter was the existence of Byrne Stukely.”
“‘Byrne Stukely!’ Who was he?” inquired Mrs. Force.
“He was the man who, under the name of Angus Anglesea, tried to marry your daughter, but failed so signally that he has not even the shadow of a shade of claim upon Odalite! She will not need the slightest action of the law to free her from that incomplete ceremonybegun in All Faith Church! No, my dear; Odalite Force, as my brother-in-law has just said, is as free as either of her sisters! Byrne Stukely has a wife and half a dozen children, more or less, living in the town of Angleton, and supported by the charity of Angus Anglesea!”
“But who then, in the name of Old Scratch, is this Byrne Stukely?” demanded the irrepressible Wynnette.
“My dear, wait until I tell your mamma! Byrne Stukely is a distant—very distant—relation of Angus Anglesea, and yet the two distant cousins were, up to the age of twenty or thereabout, as much alike as twin brothers. They must each have inherited the form, features and complexion of some common ancestor; but there all the resemblance between the men ended; for one inherited all the virtues of his progenitors and the other all the vices! They were as opposite in character as they were alike in form. This resemblance lasted, as I said—lasted in its completeness—until the young men grew to be about twenty years of age, when the character of each began to impress itself upon his face, manner and expression. Anglesea developed into a man of the highest and purest moral and intellectual excellence, and became a Christian gentleman and soldier. Stukely sank down to the level of the beasts, and below them—and became a bloated, brutalized criminal and sensualist. No one, who has known both for the last twenty years, could possibly mistake one for the other. Each has grown ‘into the likeness of his spirit,’ and therefore they have grown far apart.”
“I ought to have known he was an impostor!” put in Wynnette. “I don’t mind other people being deceived in the fellow! but for me—me—not to know, the minute I saw the portrait of the real Col. Anglesea, that the other fellow was a fraud!”
“There were many other people deceived in times pastby the exact resemblance between the two men! It was a source of continual embarrassment to the Angleseas of Anglewood. The father of Angus Anglesea procured for young Stukely a midshipman’s warrant, and got him sent off to one of our most remote naval stations, to get him out of the way and get rid of him. He went on pretty well for a while. And he received much indulgence, too, for the sake of the benefactor behind him But rectitude was not the forte of Byrne Stukely, and in the end he disgraced his patron and was dismissed the service.”
“But how came he in the army?” inquired Wynnette.
“He was never in the army. He was no more a colonel than he was an Anglesea. Nor more a soldier than he was a gentleman. He was in the navy, as I said, and was kicked out of it. Lastly, he has turned up in the slave trade and the general piracy line of business as Capt. Silver.”
“Capt. Silver!” echoed every voice, except that of Abel Force.
“Yes, my darlings—Capt. Silver, of theArgente. Ostensibly blockade runner only. Subject only to the laws of war—to be held only as a prisoner of war. But really a slaver and a pirate, likely to be tried for his life and hanged for his crimes by this government; or if he should chance to escape conviction and execution here, where the punishment of crime is so very uncertain, still sure to be claimed by the British Government, under the extradition act, and hanged by us, who, you know, will stand no nonsense from slavers and pirates. But now, my darlings, let us leave the subject of the villain and turn to something pleasanter. Odalite, my dear, I congratulate you on your escape. And I hope, when we go down to theArgentethis afternoon, we shall be able to bring Lieut. Force back with us.”
“Heaven grant it!” breathed Odalite, in a low and fervent voice.
“Where is Capt. Grandiere?” inquired Mrs. Force.
“He has gone to look up his mate, young Bayard,” replied Mr. Force.
“Oh, I hope he will bring Roland back with him!” sighed Rosemary, who was the frankest little creature in the world.
“I hope he may,” said Mr. Force.
“Come! Let us go down to dinner,” suggested the earl.