Beauchamp; or, The Error.

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XLII.

  With bitter disappointment at his heart, with the dark shadow whichhad hung so long over his existence, turning all the rosy hopes oflife to the leaden gray of the grave, now returned after a briefperiod of brighter expectations; with the cup of joy snatched from hishand at the very moment he was raising it to his lips, Beauchampleaned back in his carriage, and gave himself up for a few minutes todeep and sorrowful meditation. He remembered well when first thefeeling of love was springing up in his heart towards IsabellaSlingsby; that upon mature consideration of his fate he had determinedto crush it in the bud, to batter down the fountain of sweet waters,which he feared some malific power would turn to poison, and neverattempt to link the fate of that dear girl to his sorrowful one, evenby the gentle tie of mutual affection; and now he almost regrettedthat he had not kept his resolution. It is true, circumstances hadchanged; it is true, there were good hopes that the evil star of hisdestiny seemed likely to sink, and a brighter one rise; but yet a mindlong accustomed to disappointment and sorrow, can with difficulty bebrought to listen to the voice of hope without having the warningtongue of fear at the same time. All seemed to promise well; for theremoval of that heavy weight which had oppressed his heart, kept downhis energies, crushed love and joy, and left him nought in life butsolitude and disappointment, and despair. But still his experience ofthe past taught him to expect so little from the future, that he darednot indulge in one vision of relief, and although he had used thewords of hope to Isabella, he could not apply the balm to his ownwound.

  Ned Hayward sat beside him quietly, and let him think for about tenminutes; and he did so for two reasons. In the first place, he knewthat it was very vain to offer consolation so soon after a bittermortification had been received; and, in the next place, he did notwish to rouse his companion from the reverie till they had passedTarningham Park; for he judged that the sight of scenes, associated inmemory with happy hopes now removed afar, would only add poignancy todisappointment. However, when the park was passed (and the four horseswent at a very rapid rate), he commenced the conversation in a way themost likely to lead Beauchamp's mind from the more painful points ofhis situation, to fix them upon those more favourable.

  "Of course, Lenham," he said, with an abruptness that made hiscompanion start, "before you act even in the slightest particular, youwill consult some counsel learned in the law. This seems a case inwhich, with management, you have the complete command over your ownfate; but proper where a few false steps might be very detrimental, sofar, at least, as delay in the determination of the affair for somemonths."

  "I know not, my dear Hayward," answered Lord Lenham, "how this mayturn out; but circumstances have rendered me, once the most hopefuland light-hearted of human beings, the most desponding. I have a sortof impression upon me, that the result will not be so favourable asyou anticipate. I have to oppose long practised cunning and the mostunscrupulous use of every means, however base and wrong. I mustremember, too, that this business has been long plotting, and, dependupon it, that nothing which a perverted human mind could do toobliterate every trace of this former marriage, has been left undone.Depend upon it the conspiracy has been going on for some time, andthat the concealment of this woman's existence has been intentionaland systematic. In fact nothing could be more artful, nothing morebase, but nothing more evidently pre-arranged than all the steps whichthey have taken within the last two or three months. Even on the verysale of her goods, which took place in Paris about a month ago, it wasannounced by public advertisement that they had been the property ofthe late Charlotte Hay, Lady Lenham. I am afraid neither I nor anylawyer, however shrewd, will be found equal to encounter this woman,whose cunning and determination I never knew matched."

  "She seems a precious virago indeed," said Ned Hayward; "but never youfear, my dear lord. I don't setup to be a Solomon, but there's a maximwhich I established when I was very young, and which I have seen breakdown very much less frequently than most of his proverbs that will goin your favour, if we but manage properly. It is this: 'Rogues alwaysforget something.' Depend upon it it will hold good in this instance.Indeed we see that it has; for these good folks forget completely themarriage certificate in the hands of Goody Lamb. Doubtless thatcertificate will be easily verified, so as to put its authenticitybeyond all doubt; then nothing will remain but to prove the existenceof your predecessor in the fair lady's affections at a periodsubsequent to her pretended marriage with yourself."

  "That may be difficult to do," said Beauchamp.

  "Not in the least," cried Ned Hayward. "He has written to the good oldwidow within two years, it seems. Of course they will try to shake hertestimony, and, though I don't think that can be done, we must beprepared with other witnesses. Now you and I don't in the least doubtthe old woman's story, and if that story is true, her husband'scousin, this fair lady's husband, was living, and the clergyman of aplace called Blackford, not two years ago. Every body in his parishwill know whether this is true or not, and a Scotch minister's life isnot usually so full of vicissitudes as to admit the possibility of adifficulty in identifying that Archibald Graham, of Blackford, was thehusband of Charlotte Hay."

  "You should have been a lawyer, Hayward," said Beauchamp, with a faintsmile, "at all events, you prove a very excellent counsellor for myhopes against my fears."

  "A lawyer! Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Ned Hayward, laughing; "asoldier is a much better thing, Lenham; aye, and I believe when heknows his profession, more fit to cope with a lawyer than almost anyone else. It is always his business to mark well every point of hisposition, to guard well every weak part; and then, having taken allhis precautions, he advances straightforward at the enemy's works,looking sharp about him that he be not taken in flank, and he isalmost sure to carry the field if his cause be good, his heart strong,and his army true."

  Such conversation was not without its effect upon Beauchamp's mind.Hope is the next thing to happiness, and hope returned, becoming everymoment more and more vigorous from the cheerful and sanguine characterof his companion. At length Ned Hayward looked out at the window,exclaiming,

  "Here we are coming to Winterton, I suppose, where we change horses.Devil take those post-boys, if they go at that rate through the crowdthey will be over some fellow or another."

  "Crowd," said Beauchamp, and he too put his head to the window.

  The little solitary inn at Winterton-cum-Snowblast was on the side ofthe road next to Ned Hayward, but when Lord Lenham, leaning forward,looked out, he saw some forty or fifty people, principally countryfolks, ostlers, and post-boys collected round the door of the house.There was a sprinkling of women amongst the various groups, into whichthey had fallen, and in the midst appeared a common post-chaise withthe horses out, while a man on horseback was seen riding away at ajolting canter.

  "There's something the matter here," said Beauchamp, "I will tell oneof the servants to ask."

  As he spoke the chaise dashed on towards the inn-door, and NedHayward's prediction of the consequences likely to ensue had nearlybeen verified, for so eagerly were many persons in the crowd engagedin conversation, that they did not change their position until thelast moment, and then a general scattering took place, which in itshaste and confusion had well-nigh brought more than one man or womanunder the feet of the leaders.

  "Horses on," cried the wheel post-boy, as he drove up, speaking to theostler of the inn, whose natural predilection for post-horses calledhis attention to the carriage sooner than that of any other person inthe crowd.

  "We ha'n't got two pair in," he said, in reply, "without that pairwhich is just off the shay; we been obliged to send off one thisminute to the magistrates about all this here business."

  "What is the matter, my man?" said Ned Hayward, out of thecarriage-window, "what business is it you are talking of?"

  "I had better call master, Sir," said the ostler, pulling the brim ofhis old hat with a somewhat renitent look, as if he did not like toanswer the question; "he'll be here in a minute.
"

  "This seems something strange," said Beauchamp, "we had better get outand see. Open the door, Harrison."

  The servant, who was standing with his hand upon the silver knob ofthe carriage-door, instantly did as he was ordered, and threw down thesteps with a degree of vehemence customary to lackeys and serviceableto coach makers. Ned Hayward being next to the door got out first, andas he put his right foot to the ground, the landlord of the inn cameup, bowing low to the first occupant of a carriage which had twoservants behind and a coronet on the panel. The bow would have beenmuch more moderate to a simple yellow post-chaise.

  "What is the matter here, landlord? Has any accident happened?"

  "Why, yes, my lord," replied the landlord, supposing our friend to bethe proprietor of the vehicle, "a terrible accident, too--that is tosay not exactly, either--for it is clear enough the thing was done onpurpose by some one, who, it is not for me to say till the magistratescome."

  "But what is it? what is it?" said Beauchamp, who followed; "you seemto be very mysterious."

  "Why, you see, my lord," replied the landlord, who thought he couldnot be far wrong in honouring both gentlemen with the same title,"it's an awkward business, and one does not like to say much, but thegentleman's got his throat cut that's certain, and whether he did ithimself or whether the lady did it for him seems a question. All I cansay is, I saw him sound asleep on the sofa five minutes before shecame back. He had a glass of brandy-and-water and two fried eggs justafter she went away with attorney Wharton, and seemed quite in hisright mind then, only a little tired with sitting up so late lastnight and getting up so early this morning--but you don't seem well,Sir," he continued, seeing Beauchamp turn a look to the countenance ofNed Hayward, with a cheek that had become as pale as death--"had notyou better come in and take something?"

  "Presently, presently," said Beauchamp, "go on--what were you saying?"

  "Nothing, Sir, but that the lady seems dreadfully wild, and I can'thelp thinking she's out of her mind--I always did for that matter."

  "Is the gentleman dead?" asked Beauchamp, in a low tone.

  "No, Sir, not quite dead," said the landlord, "and the surgeon is asewing up of his throat, but it is no good I'm sure, for the room isall in a slop of blood."

  "Do you know his name?" said Beauchamp.

  "Why, Captain Moreton, I believe, Sir," said the landlord; "I've heardso, I don't know it for certain."

  "I will go in and see him," said the young nobleman, and he added,seeing a look of hesitation on the landlord's countenance, "I am hisfirst cousin, Sir, my name is Lord Lenham."

  The announcement removed all doubt upon the good man's mind, andBeauchamp and Ned Hayward walked forward into the inn guided by thelandlord. He conducted them at once upstairs to the rooms which hadbeen occupied by Captain Moreton and Charlotte Hay. At one of thedoors on the landing-place they saw a man standing with his armsfolded on his chest, but the landlord led them past to the room infront of the house, first entering quietly himself. It was a ghastlyand horrible scene which presented itself when Beauchamp and NedHayward could see into the room. The floor, the carpet, the sofa, wereliterally drenched with gore, and even the white window-curtains werespotted with dark-red drops. On the sofa, with an old white-headed manand a younger one leaning over him, was the tall, powerful frame ofCaptain Moreton. His face was as pale as death, his eyes sunk in hishead, with a livid-blue colour spreading all round them. His templesseemed as if they had been driven in; the features were pinched andsharp; the eyelids closed; and the only sign of life apparent was aslight spasmodic movement of the muscles of the face, when the hand ofthe surgeon gave him pain in the operation he was busily performing.Two or three other persons were in the room, amongst whom was thelandlord's wife, but they all kept at a distance, and the man himselfadvanced to the surgeon's side, and whispered a word in his ear.

  "Presently, presently," said the old gentleman, "it will be done in aminute," but Captain Moreton opened his eyes and turned them round inthe direction of the door. It is probable that he did not see hiscousin for they closed again immediately, but nevertheless his lipsmoved as if he fain would have said something. Beauchamp did notadvance till the old surgeon raised his head, and the young man whowas assisting him took his hands from the patient's arms. Then,however, Lord Lenham moved forward, and in a low tone asked themedical man the extent of the injury. At the same moment Ned Hayward,judging that his presence there was useless if not inconvenient,advanced to a door at the further side of the room, saying to a personwhom he instantly judged to be the mistress of the house,

  "I think we had all better go in here for a minute or two."

  "The lady is in there, Sir," said the landlady, "we have put somebodyin to watch her, for Heaven knows what she may do next."

  Nevertheless, Ned Hayward, who thought that perhaps some informationvaluable to his friend might be obtained, opened the door to go in;but the sight he beheld made him suddenly pause, though it had none ofthose very striking and horrible objects which were presented by thechamber he was just quitting. Yet there was something still, quiet,and awful about its dark features, which perhaps affected the mindstill more. The room was a bedroom with one window and a door, whichCaptain Hayward easily distinguished as that at which he had seen aman standing on the outside. On the end of the bed sat Charlotte Hay,dressed exactly as he had seen her in the church, and nearer to himappeared a strong dull-looking young man seated in a chair with aconstable's staff in his hand. The unhappy woman's position was calmand easy, and she sat perfectly motionless, with her high colourunchanged, her hands resting clasped together on her knee, her headslightly bent forward, and her eye with the peculiar dull glassy filmover it, which we have already mentioned more than once, fixedearnestly upon the floor. She seemed in deep thought but yet not thethought of intelligence, but rather the dreamy, idle, vacant ponderingof mental imbecility. There was an indefinable something that to theeye at once distinguished her state from that of deep reflection, anda curl of the lip, not quite a smile, yet resembling one, seemed tomark out the idiot. The shutters of one of the two windows wereclosed, so that the room was in a sort of half-light, yet on the spotto which the gaze of Charlotte Hay seemed attached the sunshine wasstreaming gaily, and the contrast between her fate, her prospects, herhistory, and the warm, pure light of Heaven, was more painful than theharmonising gloom of the dungeon could have been.

  When the door was opened by Ned Hayward, though it creaked asinn-doors will do, upon its hinges, she took not the slightest notice;indeed, she seemed unconscious of every thing, but the constable whohad been placed to watch her rose and advanced towards the door to saythat nobody could have admission there.

  "When the justices come, Sir," he said, addressing the young officerin a low tone, "they can do as they like, but nobody shall speak withher till then."

  As he uttered these words he heard a slight sound and turned his head,but he turned it too late. Charlotte Hay had instantly taken advantageof his eyes being withdrawn. She was already near the window, whichwas partly open, and as he darted across to lay hold of her she threwit up and with one leap sprang out. Ned Hayward instantly closed thedoor that no sound might reach the other room, and ran forward to theyoung man's side, who stood with his head leaning out and his eyesgazing down below. The house was built on a slight slope, so that theback was a story higher than the front, yet the height from the windowto the stable-yard could not be more than twenty feet. But the courtwas paved with large irregular stones, and there lay the form ofCharlotte Hay still, motionless, and silent. No groan reached the earsof those who looked down from above--not even a quiver of the limbswas to be seen. Some of the men in the yard were running up in haste,and the young officer and the constable hurried down. It matteredlittle, however, whether they went fast or slow, for when they reachedthe yard they found three men lifting a corpse. Ned Hayward gazed uponthat countenance where fierce and untameable passions had nearlyobliterated mere beauty of feature, but no trace of passion
was therenow. All was mournfully calm, and though the eyelids moved once up anddown, there was nought in the eyes when they were for an instantdisplayed but the glassy stare of death. The bonnet, which was stillupon her head, was dented in at the top, and a small red stain in thewhite silk showed where the blood was issuing slowly forth from somehidden wound received in the fall.

  They carried her slowly into the house, and placed her on a sofa inwhat was called the parlour, while Ned Hayward ran up stairs to calldown the surgeon. When he opened the door, the elderly man whom wehave mentioned was washing his hands at the table, and Beauchamp wasseated by the sofa on which his cousin lay, bending down his ear tocatch the faint words of the wounded man, who seemed speaking to himeagerly.

  The surgeon raised his eyes as the door opened, and perceiving thesign which Ned Hayward made him to come out, dried his hands in hasteand went to the door.

  "You must come down directly," said the young officer, "the unhappywoman has thrown herself out of the window, and though I believe allhuman aid is vain, yet it is necessary that some surgeon should seeher at once."

  The old man nodded his head with a grave look, returned for hisinstruments which were on the table, and then followed down to theparlour. He paused a moment by the side of the sofa, and gazed uponthe face of Charlotte Hay with a thoughtful air, then placed his handupon the wrist for a few seconds, withdrew it, and said aloud,

  "I can be of no use here--life is extinct. I will examine the head,however," and taking off the bonnet and cap he pointed with his fingerto a spot on the back of the skull, where the dark brown hair wasmatted and dabbled, saying, "Look there! I cannot make a new brain!"

  Ned Hayward turned away with a slight shudder, for though he had faceddeath many a time himself, and had seen men fall dead or wounded byhis side, he had never beheld a woman subject to the fate which man isaccustomed to brave.

  "This is a terrible business altogether, Sir," said the surgeon,following the young officer to the window, "do you know any thing ofit?"

  "Nothing," replied Captain Hayward, "except that I believe the unhappywoman was mad, for her conduct through life was that of a personhardly sane. Do you think Captain Moreton likely to live?"

  "Three or four hours, perhaps," replied the surgeon, "certainly notmore. She did her work very resolutely and with a strong hand. Thehemorrhage cannot be entirely stopped; he has already lost an awfulquantity of blood, and he will sink gradually."

  "Then yon think that there is no doubt of her hand having done thedeed?" asked Ned Hayward.

  But the surgeon would not exactly commit himself as far as that.

  "He did not do it himself," was the reply, "that is quite impossible.The wound is from left to right, and drawn so far round that he couldnot have inflicted it with his own hand. He must have been lying onthe sofa, too, when it was done--probably asleep, for the stroke ofthe razor was carried beyond the neck of the victim, and cut thehorse-hair cover through and through. The gentleman upstairs with himis his cousin, I believe?"

  "I believe so," answered Ned Hayward, "but I am not acquainted withyour patient, and therefore cannot say exactly."

  The next moment steps were heard coming down, and Beauchamp and thelandlord entered the parlour.

  "Will you have the goodness to go up to Captain Moreton, Sir," saidthe young nobleman, addressing the surgeon, before he saw what theroom contained, "the bleeding from the throat has recommenced andnearly suffocates him. Hayward, I must stay till this is over," hecontinued, as the old gentleman hurried away, but then his eyes fellupon the sofa, and he caught Ned Hayward's arm and grasped it tightwithout uttering a word. For a moment or two he stood motionless as ifturned into stone by the sight before him, and then walking slowly upto the side of the corpse, he gazed long and earnestly upon the face.His feelings must have been strange during that long, silent pause.There before him lay the being who had been the bane of his peaceduring all the early brighter years of life; the woman who, withoutever having obtained the slightest hold of those affections by whichthe heart when they are misplaced is usually most terribly tortured,had by one infamous and daring act acquired the power of embitteringevery moment of his existence. The long, dreadful consequences of oneyouthful error were at end, the dark cloud was wafted away, the heavychain broken. He was free! but by what horrible events was hisliberation accomplished! What a price of blood and guilt had they whohad enthralled him paid for their temporary triumph ending in completedefeat! He could not but feel that by the death of that woman sunshinewas restored to his path, and yet pain and horror at the means of hisrestoration to light and happiness quelled every sensation ofrejoicing. Mingled as almost all human feelings are, perhaps never didman's heart experience such mixed emotions.

  After what seemed a long time to give to any contemplation, he turnedtowards Captain Hayward, inquiring in a low tone,

  "How did this happen, Hayward, and when?"

  "A few minutes ago," replied his friend; "the constable who waswatching her came to the door to speak with me, and taking advantageof his back being turned she threw herself out of the window. Perhaps,Lenham," he continued, with that good feeling which always in mattersof deep interest sprang up through the lighter things of Ned Hayward'scharacter--"perhaps it is better that this is as it is. The act wasundoubtedly committed in a state of mind which rendered herirresponsible for her own conduct. Had she survived, her fate mighthave been more terrible, considering another deed in regard to whichit might have been difficult to prove her insanity."

  "God's will be done," said Beauchamp, "that unhappy man is in no fitstate to die, and yet I fear death is rapidly approaching. All hishatred of myself seems to have given place to the implacable desire ofvengeance against this poor tool of his own schemes. He says thatthere is no doubt that she committed the act; that he was sleeping onthe sofa, having sat up late last night and risen early this morning,and suddenly found a hand pressed upon his eyes and a sharp instrumentdrawn furiously across his throat. He started up crying for help, andbeheld the wretched woman with the razor in her hand, laughing, andasking if he would ever betray her secret again. It is, in truth, aterrible affair; but I fear his deposition must be taken, and if he isto be believed she must have been perfectly sane."

  "I wonder if she was ever perfectly sane?" said Ned Hayward, "from allI have heard I should doubt it--but here comes one of the magistrates,I suppose, or the coroner."

  It proved to be the former, and the worthy justice first entered theparlour and examined the corpse of Charlotte Hay as it still remainedstretched upon the sofa. Country justices will have their jests uponalmost all subjects, and though he did it quietly, the gentleman inquestion could not refrain from saying, after looking at the body fora moment,

  "Well, we are not likely to obtain any information from this lady, sowe had better see the other person, who is capable of being morecommunicative. Which is the way, landlord? Have this room cleared andthe door locked till the coroner can come, he will take the evidencein this case. I must get, if possible, the deposition of the gentlemanwhom you say is dying."

  Thus saying, with the landlord leading the way and Beauchamp, NedHayward, and one or two others following, he walked slowly upstairsand entered the room where Captain Moreton lay. The surgeon wasbending over him and holding his head up on his left-arm. But themoment the old man heard the bustle of many feet, he waved hisright-hand as if to forbid any one to approach. Every body paused foran instant, and in the midst of the silence that ensued an awful andvery peculiar sound was heard, something like that made by a horsetaking a draught of water, but not so long and regular. It ceased,began again, ceased; and the surgeon laid Captain Moreton's hand downupon the sofa-cushion and looked round.

  The magistrate instantly advanced, saying,

  "I must take the gentleman's deposition, Mr. Abbot."

  "You come a little too late, Sir," said the surgeon, "he will make nomore depositions now."

  It was, indeed, as he said. Captain Moreton had just expired,
and allthat remained for the magistrate, who was soon joined by one of hisworshipful brethren, was to gain all the information that could beobtained from the persons in the house regarding the deaths ofCharlotte Hay and her paramour. Beauchamp and Ned Hayward answered thequestions which were addressed to them, but entered into nounnecessary details. The rest of those who were called upon to giveevidence or volunteered it, were much more garrulous, and as the twogentlemen remained to hear the whole depositions they were detainedfor some hours at Winterton.

  When all was at length over, and Lord Lenham and Ned Hayward stoodbefore the inn-door, they gazed at each other for a moment or twowithout speaking. At length Beauchamp's servant came up from the sideof the carriage, which was ordered some time before, was alreadybefore the house, and inquired, in a commonplace tone,

  "Where shall I tell them to drive, my lord?"

  There was a momentary look of hesitation in the young nobleman's face,but the next instant he answered in a decided tone,

  "To Tarningham Park," and turning to his friend as soon as they wereonce more in the vehicle, he said with a sigh,

  "I will at least carry her the tidings, Hayward, and then--"

  He paused, and Ned Hayward asked, in his usual cheerful tone,

  "And what then, Lenham?"

  "Once more on the way to London," said Beauchamp, adding gravely butfirmly, "there must not be a doubt in her mind as to the validity ofher marriage. I know how one drop of such bitterness can poison thewhole cup of joy; but tell me, Hayward," he continued, in a morecheerful tone, "when is your own marriage to take place? You have toldme nothing of it yet, but you must not suppose that my eyes have beenshut either yesterday or this morning."

  "I did not mention it because I imagined that you had enough to thinkof, Lenham," answered Ned Hayward, "not from either want of franknessor want of regard, believe me. But to answer your question--the day isnot yet fixed. Mrs. Clifford has consented much more readily than Iexpected, Sir John when he heard of it was over-joyous, and Mary's twoguardians, knowing that their power is soon coming to an end, havedetermined to use it leniently. Heaven only knows when we first becameacquainted, about three months ago by the side of Mrs. Clifford'scarriage, I little thought therein was my future bride. Had I knownthat I stood in peril of love, and that with an heiress, too, Ibelieve I should have turned my horse's head and galloped allthe way back to London. Nay more, there has not been a dayduring the last month, till about a fortnight ago, that findingmyself in imminent danger, I have not been ready to depart, butcircumstances--circumstances, my dear Lenham, those chains of adamantkept me here, till one day, without at all intending it. I told thedear girl I loved her, and she bade me stay, so I had nothing to dobut to obey, und now I think in three weeks more, thoughtless NedHayward will be the husband of the sweetest and loveliest girl in theworld."

  "With one exception," said Beauchamp, smiling; "and one of the besthusbands in the world will he make her. But one thing more let me say,Hayward; as little as you thought of finding marriage on your onwardpath when first we met, so little did I think of finding friendship,as little did I hope for or even wish it; and yet there is nought onearth I value more than yours except the love of her I love best.Should the sage lawyers have a doubt as to the validity of my marriagewith Isabella, should they even think it better that the ceremony berepeated, with the fair lady's leave we will choose the same day, andstand at the altar like brothers as we have been to one another forsome time past."

  CHAPTER XLIII.Sweeping out the Ball-room.

  Beauchamp and Isabella were left alone together for a few minutesbefore dinner, for Sir John Slingsby and the rest of the party wereconsiderate. She lay upon the sofa still weak from the effects of thefainting fit, into which she had fallen, and Beauchamp sat beside her,holding her hand in his. He had told her all that had happened, gentlyand kindly, not dwelling upon dark and horrible particulars, butshowing her simply that the aspect of their fate was altered. He thenwent on to tell her his plans, informing her that it was his intentionthat night to set off once more for London, in order to ascertain bythe best legal opinions he could obtain, whether their marriage wasreally valid, and, in case of finding, that there was even a doubt onthe subject, to have the ceremony performed again; but Isabellachanged all his purposes.

  "Beauchamp," she said, for thus she still always called him, "I thinkI know you love me, and will not refuse me a request. It is this: Donot go to London at all; do not make any inquiries about the validityof our marriage. Look upon it as invalid, and let it be renewed. In afew weeks, a very few weeks, Mary is going to give her hand to yourfriend Captain Hayward. Let us wait till then, and go with them to thealtar. There may be some painful circumstances to me, some painfulmemories. I do not love to be made the subject of conversation andgossip, and in the church the scene of this morning will come terriblyback to my mind; but in the meantime you will be with me everyday, andthat will compensate for a great deal."

  So it was arranged, and in six weeks from that time the two cousinswere united to the men whom they loved. Difficulties and dangers havetheir interest in telling; calm and tranquil happiness has too fewincidents for record. Ned Hayward and Mary took up their abode withMrs. Clifford, and the fair bride had never any cause to repent thatshe had discovered in her husband something deeper, finer, nobler thanthose who had given him the name of thoughtless Ned Hayward. Certainlythere were some changes came over him. He was as cheerful, assunshiny, as frank and ready as ever; but he was not quite so fond offishing, shooting, and hunting. He liked a quiet walk or ride withMary better. He found out for himself a new employment also, anddevoted a great part of his time to the regulation of Sir JohnSlingsby's affairs, easily gaining his old friend's consent, upon theplea that he wanted occupation. His rapid perception of the bearingsof all things submitted to him, his strong good sense and quickresolute decision, soon brought those affairs into a very differentcondition from that in which he found them; and Sir John Slingsbyfound, that by proper regulation, with an income diminished by thecareless extravagance of many years, he had really more to spend thanwhen his revenue was nominally much larger.

  Isabella and Beauchamp were as happy as the reader has already judgedthey would be. He was looked upon by his acquaintances as a grave andsomewhat stern man; but Isabella had reason to know, that in domesticlife he was cheerful, gentle, and kind; for it was only in theheartless bustle and senseless chatter of ordinary society that therecame over him a shadow from the long consequences of one only error.

  We have but few other characters to dispose of. Mr. Wharton's historyhas already been told. Mr. Bacon did much better in life than mighthave been expected. Although he was an honest man, he met with atolerable degree of success, strange to say. Aiding Ned Hayward in theregulation of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, he became in the end a sortof agent or law-steward to the baronet. Beauchamp, who bought theMoreton property in the end, employed him in the same capacity; andtwo other gentlemen in the country finding that matters throve in hishands, made him their agent also. He never gave them any cause tocomplain, and derived a very comfortable income from the exercise ofthis branch of his profession; but, what is far more extraordinary, inno instance did the property of his employers pass from them to him.

  Stephen Gimlet in course of time became the head keeper to Sir JohnSlingsby, was well to do in the world, and gave his boy a very goodeducation. Widow Lamb lived for nearly ten years after the eventswhich have been lately detailed, and she had the happiness of seeingher poor boy William, by kind assistance given when most needed, andjudiciously directed when given, rise from the station in which wefirst found him to be, at six-and-twenty years of age, the landlord ofthe White Hart at Tarningham; and often on a summer's evening, whenthere was not much to do in the place, he would stand at his inn-door,and thinking over all the strange events he had seen in his youth witha melancholy feeling of the difference between himself and other men,he would whistle the plaintive melodies of which he was so fond inboyhood, a
s if imagination carried him altogether away into the realmsof memory.

  There is but one other character, perhaps, that deserves any mention;and, though his career was brief, we may speak of it more at large.Harry Wittingham took possession of his father's large property withtitle undisputed. A pompous funeral excited half-an-hour's wonderingadmiration in the people of Tarningham when the old gentleman wascommitted to the grave; and for some short time hopes were entertainedeven by wise and experienced persons, that young Wittingham wouldchange his mode of life, become more regular and careful in hisconduct, and cast away the vices and follies that had disgraced him.For a fortnight he remained almost entirely at home examining papers,looking into affairs, and showing no small talents for business. Anumber of small sums, lent out by Mr. Wittingham on interest, werecalled in rather sharply, and some considerable purchases of land weremade, showing a disposition on the part of the young gentleman tobecome a county proprietor. His reputed wealth, as is always the casein England, whatever a man's character may be, procured him a gooddeal of attention. People of high respectability and good fortune,especially where there were two or three unmarried daughters, calledand left their cards; but Harry Wittingham's chief visitor andcompanion was his friend Mr. Granty, and two or three county gentlemenof the same stamp, who wore leather breeches and top-boots, rodehandsome horses, and sported a red coat in the hunting season. Theestablishment kept up by old Mr. Wittingham was greatly increased,even within a month after his death. There were two more grooms in thestables, two more footmen in the hall, but this was no sign ofextravagance, for the property could well afford it, or even more; butyet there was a sort of apparent uneasiness of manner, an occasionalgloom, an irritability upon very slight occasions, upon which neitherprosperity nor the indulgence of long thwarted tastes had any effect;and Mr. Granty himself, in conversation with a friend, thought fit towonder what the devil Harry Wittingham would have, for he seemed nevercontented, although he possessed as good a fortune as any man in thecounty.

  At length Harry Wittingham gave a dinner party, and fixed it, withoutany knowledge of the coincidence, upon the very same day when MaryClifford bestowed her hand upon Ned Hayward. When he discovered thatsuch was the case some short time before the party met, he became verymuch irritated and excited, but pride would not permit him to put thedinner off, and his friends assembled at the hour named. Seven personsappeared punctually as the clock struck the hour, and shortly afterdescended to the dining-room, where delicacies and even rarities wereprovided in abundance, with the choicest wines that could be procuredfrom any quarter. The soup was turtle, brought expressly from London;but Harry Wittingham himself did not taste it. He ate a good deal offish, however, and asked several persons to drink wine, but itappeared as if he determined to keep his head cool, for he merelybowed over his glass and put it down. Mr. Granty, who well knew hisold habits, was surprised at his abstemiousness, and thought it hardlyfair, for he had himself determined to have a glorious night of it atthe expense of Harry Wittingham's cellar, and such conduct in the hostseemed likely to chill the drinking propensities of his guests.

  "Come, Wittingham," he cried at length, "let us have a glass ofchampagne together."

  "With all my heart," answered his entertainer, and the champagne waspoured out.

  "Now, Wittingham, drink fair," said Mr. Granty, laughing; "for hangme, if you have tasted a drop to-day--this way, at one draught."

  "With all my heart," answered Harry Wittingham, and raised his glass.He held it to his lips for a moment, and then with a sudden and veryapparent effort, drank the wine, but a sort, of convulsive spasminstantly spread over his whole face; it was gone in a moment however,and as if to conceal it, he said something sharply to his butler aboutthe wine not being good. "It was corked," he said; and Mr. Grantylaughing, cried,

  "Try another bottle."

  Another bottle was brought, and the glasses filled all round. HarryWittingham raised his with the rest, but instantly set it down again,and pushed it away from him, murmuring with a haggard look, "I can't!"

  As may be easily expected, this very peculiar conduct had its effectupon his guests. The party was a dull one, and broke up early, everyone remarking, that Mr. Wittingham tasted not one drop of all the manywines that circulated round his table.

  When every one was gone, he rang the bell sharply, and told theservant to go for Mr. Slattery.

  "Tell him to come directly, I do not feel well."

  In ten minutes more the surgeon was in the house, felt his pulse,looked at his tongue, asked a few questions, and then said with asmile,

  "A little fever!--a little fever! I will send you a cooling draught,and all will be quite right to-morrow, I dare say."

  "Don't send me a draught," said Harry Wittingham, "I can't drink it."

  "Oh, it shall be as good as wine," said Mr. Slattery.

  "Good or bad, it does not matter," answered the young gentleman,staring somewhat wildly in his face; "I tell you I can't drink it--Idrink not at all--I hate the very thought of drinking."

  Another quick, short spasm crossed his countenance as he spoke; andMr. Slattery, sitting down beside him with a somewhat dubiousexpression of countenance, hemmed for a moment or two, and then said,

  "Why, what can one give you then? But tell me a little more of thesymptoms you feel," and he put his hand upon the pulse again. "Haveyou any headache?"

  "No," answered Harry Wittingham, "I have a sort of burning in mythroat."

  "Great irritation of stomach?" said Mr. Slattery, in a solemn tone."Have you met with any accident lately? Run a nail into your hand orfoot, or any thing of that kind?"

  "No," answered Harry Wittingham, "but a damned dog bit me just abovethe heel six weeks ago, and it is not quite well yet."

  "Let me look at the wound," said Mr. Slattery, "it may be producingirritation."

  The shoe and stocking were soon removed, and Mr. Slattery perceivedfour distinct marks of a dog's fangs in the tendon and muscles ofHarry Wittingham's leg. At each there was a round lump raised abovethe skin, and from two of them a small, sharply-defined red line wasrunning up the leg towards the body.

  Mr. Slattery bled him largely immediately, and telling him he daredsay he would be quite well in two or three days, returned home, andsent off a man on horseback to the county town for a bottle of theOrmskirk medicine. The Ormskirk medicine arrived; but instead of beingwell in two or three days, in not much more than a week after HarryWittingham was in his grave.

  THE END.

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