CHAPTER XLI.
Sir Philip Hastings returned to his own house earlier than had beenexpected, bringing with him the physician he had gone to seek, andwhom--contrary to the ordinary course of events--he had found at once.They both went up to Lady Hastings's room, where the physician,according to the usual practice of medical men in consultation,approved of all that his predecessor had done, yet ordered someinsignificant changes in the medicines in order to prove that he hadnot come there for nothing. He took the same view of the case that Mr.Short had taken, declaring that there was no immediate danger; but atthe same time he inquired particularly how that lady rested in thenight, whether she started in her sleep, was long watchful, andwhether she breathed freely during slumber.
The maid's account was not very distinct in regard to several of thesepoints; but she acknowledged that it was her young lady who usuallysat up with Lady Hastings till three or four o'clock in the morning.
Sir Philip immediately directed Emily to be summoned, but the maidinformed him she had gone out about an hour and a half before, and hadnot then returned.
When the physician took his leave and departed, Sir Philip summonedthe butler to his presence, and inquired, with an eager yet gloomytone, if he knew where Mistress Emily had gone.
"I really do not, Sir Philip," replied the man. "She went out with Mr.Dixwell, but they parted a little way down the road, and my young ladywent on as if she were going to farmer Wallop's or Jenny Best's."
At the latter name Sir Philip started as if a serpent had stung him,and he waved to the man to quit the room. As soon as he was alone hecommenced pacing up and down in more agitation than he usuallydisplayed, and once or twice words broke from him which gave someindications of what was passing in his mind.
"Too clear, too clear," lie said, and then after a pause exclaimed,holding up his hands; "so young, and so deceitful! Marlow must be toldof this, and then must act as he thinks fit--it were better she weredead--far better! What is the cold, dull corruption of the grave, themere rotting of the flesh, and the mouldering of the bones, to thiscorruption of the spirit, this foul dissolution of the whole moralnature?"
He then began to pace up and down more vehemently than before, fixinghis eyes upon the ground, and seeming to think profoundly, with aquivering lip and knitted brow. "Hard, hard task for a father," hesaid--"God of heaven that I should ever dream of such a thing!--yet itmight be a duty. What can Marlow be doing during this long unexplainedabsence? France--can he have discovered all this and quitted her,seeking, in charity, to make the breach as little painful as possible?Perhaps, after all," he continued, after a few moments' thought, "theman may have been mistaken when he told me that he believed that thisyoung scoundrel was lying ill of a fall at this woman's cottage; yetat the best it was bad enough to quit a sick mother's bedside for longhours, when I too was absent. Can she have done it to show her spleenat this foolish opposition to her marriage?"
There is no character so difficult to deal with--there is none whichis such a constant hell to its possessor--as that of a moody man. SirPhilip had been moody, as I have endeavored to show, from his veryearliest years; but all the evils of that sort of disposition hadincreased upon him rapidly during the latter part of his life.Unaware, like all the rest of mankind, of the faults of his owncharacter, he had rather encouraged than struggled against its manygreat defects. Because he was stern and harsh, he fancied himselfjust, and forgot that it is not enough for justice to judge rightly ofthat which is placed clearly and truly before it, and did notremember, or at all events apply the principle, that an accuratesearch for truth, and an unprejudiced suspension of opinion till truthhas been obtained, are necessary steps to justice. Suspicion--always apart and parcel of the character of the moody man--had of late yearsobtained a strong hold upon him, and unfortunately it had so happenedthat event after event had occurred to turn his suspicion against hisown guiltless child. The very lights and shades of her character,which he could in no degree comprehend, from his own nature beingdestitute of all such impulsiveness, had not only puzzled him, butlaid the foundation of doubts. Then the little incident which I haverelated in a preceding part of this work, regarding the Italiansinging-master--Emily's resolute but unexplained determination to takeno more lessons from that man, had set his moody mind to ponder and todoubt still more. The too successful schemes and suggestions of Mrs.Hazleton had given point and vigor to his suspicions, and the betrayalof his private conversation to the government had seemed a climax tothe whole, so that he almost believed his fair sweet child a fiendconcealed beneath the form of an angel.
It was in vain that he asked himself, What could be her motives? Hehad an answer ready, that her motives had always been a mystery tohim, even in her lightest acts. "There are some people," he thought,"who act without motives--in whom the devil himself seems to haveimplanted an impulse to do evil without any cause or object, for themere pleasure of doing wrong."
On the present occasion he had accidentally heard from the farmer, whowas the next neighbor of Jenny Best, that he was quite certain SirJohn Hastings, as he called him, was lying ill from a fall at thatgood woman's cottage. His horse had been found at a great distance ona wild common, with the bridle broken, and every appearance of havingfallen over in rearing. Blood and other marks of an accident had beendiscovered on the road. Mr. Short, the surgeon, was seen to payseveral visits every day to the old woman's house, and yet maintainedthe most profound secrecy in regard to his patient. The farmer arguedthat the surgeon would not be so attentive unless that patient was aperson of some importance, and it was clear he was not one of JennyBest's own family, for every member of it had been well and activeafter the surgeon's visits had been commenced.
All these considerations, together with the absence of John Ayliffefrom his residence, had led the good farmer to a right conclusion, andhe had stated the fact broadly to Sir Philip Hastings.
Sir Philip, on his part, had made no particular inquiries, for thevery name of John Ayliffe was hateful to him; but when he heard thathis daughter had gone forth alone to that very cottage, and hadremained there for a considerable time in the same place with the manwhom he abhorred, and remembered that the tale which had been boldlyput forth of her having visited him in secret, the very blood, as itflowed through his heart, seemed turned into fire, and his brainreeled with anguish and indignation.
Presently the hall door was heard to open, and there was a light stepin the passage. Sir Philip darted forth from his room, and met hisdaughter coming in with a sad and anxious face, and as he thought withtraces of tears upon her eyelids.
"Where have you been?" asked her father in a stern low tone.
"I have been to Jenny Best's down the lane, my father," replied Emily,startled by his look and manner, but still speaking the plain truth,as she always did. "Is my mother worse?"
Without a word of reply Sir Philip turned away into his room again andclosed the door.
Alarmed by her father's demeanor, Emily hurried up at once to LadyHastings's room, but found her certainly more cheerful and apparentlybetter.
The assurance given by the physician that there was no immediatedanger, nor any very unfavorable symptom, had been in a certain degreea relief to Lady Hastings herself; for, although she had undoubtedlybeen acting a part when in the morning she had declared herself dying,yet, as very often happens with those who deceive, she had so farpartially deceived herself as to believe that she was in reality veryill. She was surprised at Emily's sudden appearance and alarmed look,but her daughter did not think it right to tell her the strangedemeanor of Sir Philip, but sitting down as calmly ass he could by hermother's side, talked to her for several minutes on indifferentsubjects. It was evident to Emily that, although her father's tone wasso harsh, her mother viewed her more kindly than in the morning, andthe information which had been given her by the surgeon accounted forthe change. The conduct of Sir Philip, however, seemed not to beexplained, and Emily could hardly prevent herself from falling intoone of those rev
eries which have often been mentioned before. Shestruggled against the tendency, however, for some time, till at lengthshe was relieved by the announcement that Mistress Hazleton was below,but when Lady Hastings gave her maid directions to bring her friendup, Emily could refrain no longer from uttering at least one word ofwarning.
"Give me two minutes more, dear mamma," she said, in a low voice. "Ihave something very particular to say to you--let Mrs. Hazleton waitbut for two minutes."
"Well," said Lady Hastings, languidly; and then turning to the maidshe added, "Tell dear Mrs. Hazleton that I will receive her in fiveminutes, and when I ring my bell, bring her up."
As soon as the maid had retired Emily sank upon her knees by hermother's bedside, and kissed her hand, saying, "I have one great favorto ask, dear mother, and I beseech you to grant it."
"Well, my child," answered Lady Hastings, thinking she was going topetition for a recall of her injunction against the marriage withMarlow, "I have but one object in life, my dear Emily, and that isyour happiness. I am willing to make any sacrifice of personalfeelings for that object. What is it you desire?"
"It is merely this," replied Emily, "that you would not put any trustor confidence whatever in Mrs. Hazleton. That you would doubt herrepresentations, and confide nothing to her, for a short time atleast."
Lady Hastings looked perfectly aghast "What do you mean, Emily?" shesaid. "What can you mean? Put no trust in Mrs. Hazleton my oldest anddearest friend?"
"She is not your friend," replied Emily, earnestly, "nor my friend,nor my father's friend, but the enemy of every one in this house. Ihave long had doubts--Marlow changed those doubts into suspicions, andthis day I have accidentally received proof positive of her cruelmachinations against my father, yourself, and me. This justifies me inspeaking as I now do, otherwise I should have remained silent still."
"But explain, explain, my child," said Lady Hastings. "What has shedone? What are these proofs you talk of? I cannot comprehend at allunless you explain."
"There would be no time, even if I were not bound by a promise,"replied Emily; "but all I ask is that you suspend all trust andconfidence in Mrs. Hazleton for one short day--perhaps it may besooner; but I promise you that at the end of that time, if not before,good Mr. Dixwell shall explain every thing to you, and place in yourhands a paper which will render all Mrs. Hazleton's conduct for thelast two years perfectly clear and distinct."
"But do tell me something, at least, Emily," urged her mother. "I hateto wait in suspense. You used to be very fond of Mrs. Hazleton and sheof you. When did these suspicions of her first begin, and how?"
"Do you not remember a visit I made to her some time ago," repliedEmily, "when I remained with her for several days? Then I firstlearned to doubt her. She then plotted and contrived to induce me todo what would have been the most repugnant to your feelings and myfather's, as well as to my own. But moreover she came into my room onenight walking in her sleep, and all her bitter hatred showed itselfthen."
"Good gracious! What did she say? What did she do?" exclaimed LadyHastings, now thoroughly forgetting herself in the curiosity Emily'swords excited.
Her daughter related all that had occurred on the occasion of Mrs.Hazleton's sleeping visit to her room, and repeated her words asnearly as she could recollect them.
"But why, my dearest child, did you not tell us all this before?"asked Lady Hastings.
"Because the words were spoken in sleep," answered Emily, "and excitedat the time but a vague doubt. Sleep is full of delusions; and thoughI thought the dream must be a strange one which could prompt suchfeelings, yet still it might all be a troublous dream. It was not tillafterwards, when I saw cause to believe that Mrs. Hazleton wished toinfluence me in a way which I thought wrong, that I began to suspectthe words that had come unconsciously from the depths of her secretheart. Since then suspicion has increased every day, and now hasripened into certainty. I tell you, dear mother, that good Mr.Dixwell, whom you know and can trust, has the information as well asmyself. But we are both bound to be silent as to the particulars forsome hours more. I could not let Mrs. Hazleton be with you again,however--remembering, as I do, that seldom has she crossed thisthreshold or we crossed hers, without some evil befalling us--and notsay as much as I have said, to give you the only hint in my power offacts which, if you knew them fully, you could judge of muchbetter than myself. Believe me, dear mother, that as soon as I ampermitted--and a very few hours will set me free--I will fly at onceto tell you all, and leave you and my father to decide and act as yourown good judgment shall direct."
"You had better tell me first, Emily," replied Lady Hastings; "a womancan always best understand the secrets of a woman's heart. I wish youhad not made any promise of secrecy; but as you have, so it must be.Has Marlow had any share in this discovery?" she added, with someslight jealousy of his influence over her daughter's mind.
"Not in the least with that which I have made to-day," replied Emily;"but I need not at all conceal from you that he has long suspectedMrs. Hazleton of evil feelings and evil acts towards our whole family;and that he believes that he has discovered almost to a certainty thatMrs. Hazleton aided greatly in all the wrong and injury that has beendone my father. The object of his going to France was solely to traceout the whole threads of the intrigue, and he went, not doubting inthe least that he should succeed in restoring to my parents all thathas been unjustly taken from them. That such a restoration must takeplace, I now know; but what he has learned or what he has done Icannot tell you, for I am not aware. I am sure, however, that if hebrings all he hopes about, it will be his greatest joy to have aidedto right you even in a small degree."
"I do believe he is a very excellent and amiable young man," said LadyHastings thoughtfully.
She seemed as if she were on the point of saying something farther onthe subject of Marlow's merits; but then checked herself, and added,"But now indeed, Emily, I think I ought to send for Mrs. Hazleton."
"But you promise me, dear mother," urged Emily eagerly, "that you willput no faith in any thing she tells you, and will not confide in herin any way till you have heard the whole?"
"That I certainly will take care to avoid, my dear," replied LadyHastings. "After what you have told me, it would be madness to put anyconfidence in her--especially when a few short hours will reveal all.You are sure, Emily, that it will not be longer!"
"Perfectly certain, my dear mother," answered her daughter. "I wouldnot have promised to refrain from speaking, had I not been certainthat the time for such painful concealment must be very short."
"Well, then, my dear child, ring the bell," said Lady Hastings. "Iwill be very guarded merely on your assurances, for I any sure thatyou are always candid and sincere whatever your poor father maythink."
Emily rung the bell, and retired to her own room, repeating mournfullyto herself, "whatever my poor father may think?--Well, well," sheadded, "the time will soon come when he will be undeceived, and do hischild justice. Alas, that it should ever have been otherwise!"
She found relief in tears; and while she wept in solitude LadyHastings prepared to receive Mrs. Hazleton with cold dignity. She hadfully resolved, when Emily left her, to be as silent as possible inregard to every thing that had occurred that day; not to allude,directly or indirectly, to the warning which had been given her, andto leave Mrs. Hazleton to attribute her unwonted reserve to caprice,or any thing else she pleased. But the resolutions of Lady Hastingswere very fragile commodities when she fell into the hands of artfulpeople who knew her character, and one was then approaching not easilyfrustrated in her designs.
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