The Long Vacation

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  Lancelot said, That were against me, what I can I will; And there that day remained.--TENNYSON.

  It was on the night before the final bustle and fury, so to speak, ofpreparation were to set in, when arrivals were expected, and the sellerswere in commotion, and he had been all day putting the singers one byone through their parts, that as he went to his room at night, there wasa knock at Lancelot's door, and Gerald came in, looking deadly white.He had been silent and effaced all the evening, and his aunt had thoughthim tired, but he had rather petulantly eluded inquiry, and now he camein with--

  "Lance, I must have it out with some one."

  "An Oxford scrape?" said Lance.

  "Oh no, I wish it was only that." Then a silence, while Lance lookedat him, thinking, "What trouble could it be?" He had been very kind andgentle with the little Miranda, but the manner had not struck Lance aslover-like.

  There was a gasp again--

  "That person, that woman at the gate, do you remember?"

  Therewith a flash came over Lance.

  "My poor boy! You don't mean to say--"

  Neither could bring himself to say the word so sacred to Lancelot, andwhich might have been so sacred to his nephew.

  "How did you guess?" said Gerald, lifting up the face that he had hiddenon the table.

  "I saw the likeness between you and the girl. She reminded me of someone I had once seen."

  "Had you seen her?"

  "Once, at a concert, twenty odd years ago. Your aunt, too, was strangelycarried back to that scene, by the girl's voice, I suppose."

  "Poor child!" said Gerald, still laying down his head and seemingterribly oppressed, as Lance felt he well might be.

  "It is a sad business for you," said the uncle, with a kind hand on hisshoulder. "How was it she did not claim you before?--not that she hasany real claim."

  "She did not know my real name. My father called himself Wood. I neverknew the rest of it till after I came home. That fellow bribed thegardener, got in over the wall, or somehow, and when she saw you, andheard you and me and all three of us, it gave her the clue."

  "Well, Gerald, I do not think she can dare to--"

  "Oh!" interrupted Gerald, "there's worse to come."

  "What?" said Lance, aghast.

  "She says," and a sort of dry sob cut him short, "she says she had ahusband when she married my father," and down went his head again.

  "Impossible," was Lance's first cry; "your father's first care was totell Travis all was right with you. Travis has the certificates."

  "Oh yes, it was no fault of my father--my father, my dear father--no,but she deceived him, and I am an impostor--nobody."

  "Gently, gently, Gerald. We have no certainty that this is true. Yourfather had known her for years. Tell me, how did it come out--whatevidence did she adduce?"

  Gerald nerved himself to sit up and speak collectedly.

  "I believe it is half that circus fellow's doing. I think she is goingto marry him, if she hasn't already. She followed me, and just at theturn down this road, as I was bidding the Mona girl goodnight, she cameup with me, and said I little thought that the child was my sister, andhow delightful it was to see us acting together. Well then, I can't saybut a horror came over me. I couldn't for the life of me do anything butdraw back, there was something so intolerable in the look of her eyes,and her caressing manner," and he shuddered, glad of his uncle's kindhand on his shoulder. "Somehow, I let her get me out upon the highground, and there she said, 'So you are too great a swell to have wordor look for your mother. No wonder, you always were un vilain petitmiserable; but I won't trouble you--I wouldn't be bound to live yourdull ennuyant ladies' life for millions. I'll bargain to keep out ofyour way; but O'Leary and I want a couple of hundred pounds, and you'llnot grudge it to us.' I had no notion of being blackmailed, besides Ihaven't got it, and I told her she might know that I am not of age,and had no such sum ready to hand. She was urgent, and I began to thinkwhether I could do anything to save that poor little sister, when sheevidently got some fresh impulse from the man, and began to ask me howI should like to have it all disclosed to my nobs of friends. Well, Iwasn't going to be bullied, and I answered that my friends knew already,and she might do her worst. 'Oh, may I?' she said; 'you wouldn't like,my fine young squire, to have it come out that I never was your father'swife at all, and that you are no more than that gutter-child.' I couldnot understand her at first, and said I would not be threatened, butthat made her worse, and that rascal O'Leary came to her help. Theyraised their demands somehow to five hundred, and declared if they hadnot it paid down, they should tell the whole story and turn me out. Ofcourse I said they were welcome. Either I am my father's lawful son, orI am not, and if not, the sooner it is all up with me the better, forwhatever I am, I am no thief and robber. So I set off and came downthe hill; but the brute kept pace with me to this very door, tryingto wheedle me, I believe. And now what's to be done? I would go off atonce, and let Uncle Clem come into his rights, only I don't want to bethe death of him and Cherie."

  "No," said Lance, "my dear fellow! You have stood it wisely and bravelyso far, go on to do so. I don't feel the least certain that this is notmere bullying. She did not tell you any particulars?"

  "No, certainly not."

  "Not the name of this supposed predecessor of Edgar's? Where she mayhave been married, or how? How she parted from him, or how she knows hewas alive? It sounds to me a bogus notion, got up to put the screw onyou, by surprise. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go down to the shoptomorrow morning, see the woman, and extract the truth if possible, andI fully expect that the story will shrink up to nothing."

  "'Tis not the estate I care for," said Gerald, looking somewhat cheered."It is my father's honour and name. If that can be cleared--"

  "Do not I care?" said Lance. "My dear brother Edgar, my model of allthat was noble and brilliant--whom Felix loved above all! Nay, and you,Gerald, our hope! I would give anything and everything to free you fromthis stain, though I trust it will prove only mud that will not stick.Anyway you have shown your true, faithful Underwood blood. Now go to bedand sleep if you can. Don't say a word, nor look more like a ghost thanyou can help--or we shall have to rouge ourselves for our parts. My boy,my boy! You are Edgar's boy, anyway."

  And Lancelot kissed the young pale cheek as he had done when the littlewounded orphan clung to him fourteen years ago, or as he kissed his ownFelix.

  Whatever the night was to Gerald, long was the night, and long the lighthours of the morning to the ever sleepless Lance before he could riseand make his way to the shop with any hope of gaining admission, andmany were the sighs and prayers that this tale might be confuted, andthat the matter might be to the blessing of the youth to whom he feltmore warmly now than since those winning baby days had given place tomore ordinary boyhood. He had a long time to pace up and down watchingthe sparkling water, and feeling the fresh wind on the brow, which wasas capable as ever of aching over trouble and perplexity, and dreadingabove all the effect on the sister, whose consolation and darling Geraldhad always been. How little he had thought, when he had stood staunchagainst his brother Edgar's persuasions, that Zoraya was to be the baneof that life which had begun so gaily!

  When at last the door was unfastened, and, as before, by Ludmilla, hegreeted her kindly, and as she evidently expected some fresh idea aboutthe masque, he gave her his card, and asked her to beg her mother tocome and speak to him. She started at the name and said--

  "Oh, sir, you will do nothing to hurt him--Mr. Underwood?"

  "It is the last thing I wish," he said earnestly, and Ludmilla showedhim into a little parlour, full of the fumes of tobacco, and sped away,but he had a long time to wait, for probably Mother Butterfly's entiretoilette had to be taken in hand.

  Before she appeared Lancelot heard a man's voice, somewhere in theentry, saying--

  "Oh! the young ass has been fool enough to let it out, has he? I supposethis is the chap that will profit?
You'll have your wits about you."

  Lance was still his old self enough to receive the lady with--

  "I beg to observe that I am not the 'chap who will profit' if thismiserable allegation holds water. I am come to understand the truth."

  The woman looked frightened, and the man came to her rescue, havingevidently heard, and this Lance preferred, for he always liked to dealwith mankind rather than womankind. Having gone so far there was notroom for reticence, and the man took up the word.

  "Madame cannot be expected to disclose anything to the prejudice of herson and herself, unless it was made worth her while."

  "Perhaps not," said Lance, as he looked her over in irony, and drewthe conclusion that the marriage was a fact accomplished; "but she hasdemanded two hundred pounds from her son, on peril of exposure, and ifthe facts are not substantiated, there is such a thing as an action forconspiracy, and obtaining money on false pretences."

  "Nothing has been obtained!" said the woman, beginning to cry. "He wasvery hard on his poor mother."

  "Who forsook him as an infant, cast off his father, and only claims himin order to keep a disgraceful, ruinous secret hanging over his life forever, in order to extort money."

  "Come now, this is tall talk, sir," said O'Leary; "the long and shortof it is, what will the cove, yourself, or whoever it is that you speakfor, come down for one way or another?"

  "Nothing," responded Lance.

  Neither of the estimable couple spoke or moved under an announcement soincredible to them, and he went on--

  "Gerald Underwood would rather lose everything than give hush-money toenable him to be a robber, and my elder brother would certainly give noreward for what would be the greatest grief in his life."

  O'Leary grinned as if he wanted to say, "Have you asked him?"

  "The priest," she muttered.

  "Ay, the meddling parson who has done for you! He would have to comedown pretty handsomely."

  Lancelot went on as if he had not heard these asides.

  "I am a magistrate; I can give you in charge at once to the police, andhave you brought before the Mayor for conspiracy, when you will have toprove your words, or confess them to be a lie."

  He was not in the least certain that where there was no threateningletter, this could succeed, but he knew that the preliminaries would bealarming enough to elicit something, and accordingly Mrs. O'Leary beganto sob out--

  "It was when I was a mere child, a bambina, and he used me so cruelly."

  There was the first thread, and on the whole, the couple were angryenough with Gerald, his refined appearance and air of carelessprosperity, to be willing that he should have a fall, and Lance thusextracted that the "he" who had been cruel was a Neapolitan impresarioin a small way, who had detected that Zoraya, when a very little child,had a charming voice, of which indeed she still spoke with pride, sayingLida would never equal it. Her parents were semi-gipsies, Hungarian, andhad wandered all over the Austrian empire, acting, singing, and bringingup their children to the like. They had actually sold her to theimpresario, who had sealed the compact, and hoped to secure the valuablecommodity by making her his wife. In his security he had trained herin the severest mode, and visited the smallest want of success withviolence and harshness, so that her life was utterly miserable, and onmeeting her brother, who had become a member of a German band, she hadcontrived to make her escape with him, and having really considerableproficiency, the brother and sister had prospered, and through sundryvicissitudes had arrived at being "stars" in Allen's troupe, where EdgarUnderwood, or, as he was there known, Tom Wood, had unfortunately joinedthem; and the sequel was known to Lancelot, but he could not but listenand gather up the details, disgusted as he was--how the prima donna hadaccepted his attention as her right, till her jealousy was excited byhis evident attraction to "the little English doll, for whom he killedhis man"; how she resolved to win him, and how scandalous reports atlast had brought him to offer marriage, unknowing, it was plain, of herpast. It was not possible to guess how much she was still keeping back,speaking under terror and compulsion as she did. But she declaredthat he had never loved her, and was always wanting her to be like cesAnglaises fades, and as to her child, he so tormented her about it,and the ways of his absurd mother and sisters, and so expected her tosacrifice her art and her prospects to the little wretch, that she wasready to strangle it! "Maternal love, bah! she was not going to be likea bird or a beast," she said, with a strange wild glance in her eyesthat made Lance shudder, and think how much more he respected the birdor beast. Then at Chicago, when Wood's own folly and imprudence hadbrought on an illness that destroyed his voice, and she knew there wouldbe only starvation, or she should have to toil for the whole of them,Schnetterling, manager of a circus, fell in love with her, and madeher good offers to sing in Canada, and Chicago was a place where fewquestions were asked, so she freed herself.

  She had made her rounds with Schnetterling, a prudent German, and inprocess of time had come to England, where, at Avoncester, both had beenattacked by influenza; he died, and she only recovered with a total lossof voice; but he had been prudent and frugal enough to save a sufficientsum to set her up at Rockquay with the tobacco-shop. She had chosen thatplace on account of American trading-vessels putting in there, aswell as those of various foreign nations, with whom her knowledge oflanguages was available, and no doubt there were some opportunities ofdealing in smuggled goods. Just, however, as the smuggling was beginningto be suspected, the circus of O'Leary came in her way, and the oldinstincts were renewed. Then came the detection and prosecution, and theneed of raising the fine. She had recourse to O'Leary, who had beforebeen Schnetterling's underling, and now was a partner in Jellicoe'scircus, who knew her capabilities as a manager and actress, andperceived the probabilities of poor little Lida's powers. The discoverythat the deserted baby that she had left at Chicago was a young handsomesquire, well connected, and, in her eyes, of unlimited means, had ofcourse incited both to make the utmost profit of him. That he should notwish to hush the suspicion up, but should go straight to his uncles, wasto them a quite unexpected contingency.

  All this was not exactly told to Lancelot, but he extracted it, orgathered it before he was able to arrive at what was really important,the name of Zoraya's first husband, where she was married, and bywhom, and where she had parted from him. She was so unwilling to giveparticulars that he began almost to hope to make her confess that thewhole was a myth, but at last she owned that the man's name was GiovanniBenista, and that the marriage had taken place at Messina; she knew notin what church, nor in what year, only it was before the end of the oldregime, for she recollected the uniforms of the Bomba soldiers, thoughshe could not remember the name of the priest. Benista was old, veryold--the tyrant and assassin that he was, no doubt he was dead.She often thought he would have killed her--and the history of hisill-treatment had to be gone through before it appeared that she hadfled from him at Trieste with her brother, in an English trading-vessel,where their dexterity and brilliancy gained them concealment and apassage. This was certainly in the summer of 1865. Of Benista she knewnothing since, but she believed him to have come from Piedmont.

  Lance found Gerald walking up and down anxiously watching for him, andreceiving him with a "Well!" that had in it volumes of suspense.

  "Well, Gerald, I do not think there can be any blame attached to yourfather, whatever comes of it. He was deceived as much as any one else,and his attachment to you seems to have been his great offence."

  "Thank Heaven! Then he was deceived?"

  "I am afraid there was some previous ceremony. But stay, Gerald! Thereis no certainty that it was valid in the first place, and in the next,nothing is known of Benista since 1865, when he was an old man, so thatthere is a full chance that he was dead before--"

  "Before April 1868. I say, Uncle Lance, they want to make no end of abear-fight for my coming of age. I must be out of the way first."

  "Don't cry out too soon. Even if the worst came to the wo
rst, as theproperty was left to you by will individually, I doubt whether thisdiscovery, if real, would make any difference in law. I do not know."

  "But would I take it on those terms? It would be simply defraudingClement, and all of you--"

  "Perhaps, long before, we may be satisfied," said Lance. "For thepresent, I think nothing can be done but endeavour to ascertain thefacts."

  "One comfort is," said Gerald, "I have gained a sister. I have walkedwith her to the corner of her place--the marble works, you know--andshe really is a jolly little thing, quite innocent of all her mother'stricks, thinking Mrs. Henderson the first of human beings, exceptperhaps Flight, the aesthetic parson. I should not have selected him,you know, but between them they have kept her quite a white sheet--aMiranda any Ferdinand might be glad to find, and dreading nothing somuch as falling into the hands of that awful brute. Caliban himselfcouldn't have been worse! I have promised her to do what I can to saveher--buy her off--anything."

  "Poor child," said Lance. "But, Gerald, nothing of this must be saidthese next few days. We can't put ourselves out of condition for thissame raree-show."

  "I'm sure it's a mere abomination to me," said Gerald disconsolately. "Ican't think why we should be dragged into all this nuisance for what isnot even our own concern."

  "I'm sure I thought you the rope that dragged me! At any rate muchhigher up on it."

  "Well, I never thought you would respond--you, who have enough on yourhands at Bexley."

  "One stroke even on the outskirts is a stroke for all the cause."

  "The cause! I don't believe in the cause, whatever it is. What aconcatenation now, that you and I should make fools of ourselves inorder to stave off the establishment of national education, as if wecould, or as if it was worth doing."

  "Then why did you undertake it?"

  "Oh, ah! Why, one wants something to do down here, and the Merrifieldlot are gone upon it; and I did want to go through the thing again, butnow it seems all rot."

  "Nevertheless, having pledged ourselves to the performance, we cannotcry off, and the present duty is to pack dull care away, put allthis out of our heads, and regard it as a mere mare's nest as long aspossible, and above all not upset Cherry. Remember, let this turn outas it will, you are yourself still, and her own boy, beloved for yourfather's sake, the joy of our dear brother, and her great comforter. Awretched mistake can never change that."

  Lance's voice was quivering, and Gerald's face worked. Lance gave hishand a squeeze, and found voice to say--

  "'Hold thee still in the Lord, and abide patiently upon Him.' Andmeantime be a man over it. It can be done. I have often had to forget."

  CHAPTER XIX. -- SHOP-DRESSING