General Davenant, with his hand covering his brow, listened in silence.
"I have not inquired the origin of this depression," I added--"thatwould have been indiscreet--though I know Will would tell me. I guessedit, however, and I have visited the young lady at her house to-night. Iwill certainly use my utmost exertions to remove all obstacles."
General Davenant suddenly rose erect. His eye was flashing.
"I beg you will not, colonel!" he exclaimed. "The barrier betweenhimself and--Miss Conway--can never be removed."
I looked at the speaker's flushed face with positive wonder, andreplied:--
"You astonish me, general! Are there any such obstacles in life?"
"There are!"
I made no reply.
"There are, colonel," repeated the now fiery old soldier. "Judge Conwayhas been guilty of a gross wrong to me. No son of mine shall ever forman alliance with his family!"
I looked up with deep astonishment.
"This is a very great surprise to me, my dear general," I said; "Ithought, from many things, that it was Judge Conway who opposed thisalliance; and from the belief that _you_ had done _him_ some greatwrong."
General Davenant had taken his seat again, after his outburst. Once morehis forehead was covered with his hand. For some moments he preserveda silence so profound, that nothing disturbed the night but the longbreathing of the sleeping boy, and the measured tramp of the sentinel.
Then, all at once, the general raised his head. His expression was nolonger fiery--it was unutterably sad.
"I have been reflecting, colonel," he said gravely, "and, in these fewminutes, have come to a somewhat singular determination."
"What is that, general?"
"To tell you why _my_ son can never marry the daughter of Judge Conway!"
XVIII.
TWO MEN AND A WOMAN.
General Davenant leaned his elbow on the desk, rested his forehead inhis hand, and said in a deep, measured voice:--
"My story need not be a long one, colonel. Those who relate gayadventures and joyous experiences, indulge in endless details--memory ischarming to them at such moments--they go back to the past, with a smileon the lips, recalling every little detail, every color of the brightpicture.
"My own narrative will be brief, because it is a gloomy one. It is farfrom pleasant to return to the scenes I propose to describe. I only doso to erase a stigma which seems to attach to my family and myself; toshow you that, in spite of Judge Conway, I deserve your good opinion.Assuredly I do not propose any pleasure to myself in relating theseevents. Alas! one of the bitterest things to a proud man--and I amproud--is to even seem to defend his good name from imputed dishonor!"
Knitting his brows as he spoke, the old soldier looked gloomily into theblaze before us. In a moment, he went on:--
"I was born in the county of Dinwiddie, colonel, where my family hadlived from the time of the first settlement of Virginia. My father wasa large landholder, and his most intimate friend was Mr. Conway, thefather of the present judge. The family friendship was inherited by theyoung people of the two families--and my two most intimate friendswere George and William Conway. One is dead, the other is Judge WilliamConway, member of Congress. We had played together as children, beencompanions at school. When our fathers died, and we in turn became therepresentatives of the two families, our friendship became even moreclose. I was half my time at 'Five Forks'--they paid long visits to meat 'The Pines'--we hunted together, went to entertainments together,drank wine together, and were inseparable.
"George was especially my favorite. He was the soul of amiability;everybody loved him; and I entertained for him the most tenderfriendship. His brother William was equally estimable, but did notattract you as strongly. Although a person of the highest sense ofhonor, and universally respected for talents of the first order, he wasirascible, bitter, and, when once aroused, allowed nothing to restrainhim. At such moments his best friends avoided him, for he was dangerous.He brooked no opposition. His anger was like a consuming fire; and afriendship which he had formed with that gentleman of splendid powers,but venomous antipathies, John Randolph of Roanoke, served still moreto encourage him in the indulgence of the natural acerbity of hisdisposition. More than once, I have seen him almost foam at the mouthas he denounced some political adversary from the stump, and when oneof these fits of passion seized him, he became as ungovernable as a wildanimal. You can scarcely realize that, now. Sorrow has chastened him;trouble has softened him; I have nothing to say against the JudgeWilliam Conway of to-day. He is a self-sacrificing patriot, a gentlemanof irreproachable courtesy, and sweetness of character; but, as ayoung man, he was a firebrand, and I think the fire is still unquenchedbeneath the gray hairs of the man of seventy.
"Such were George and William Conway, when I knew them as young men--theone mild, amiable, the soul of kindness and good-nature; the otherproud, honorable, but subject to fits of stormy passion, which made allavoid him when the paroxysm was upon him.
"From this hasty description, you will understand why George was agreater favorite with me than his brother. Our friendship was, indeed,as close and tender as possible, and we passed our majority andapproached the age of twenty-five, without ever having had a moment'sinterruption of our intimacy.
"Then, all at once, there appeared upon the stage, that cause of so muchhappiness, woe, joy, grief, to mankind--a woman. To make a long storyshort, George Conway and myself were so unfortunate as to becomeattached to the same young lady, and very soon this sentiment amounted,both on his part and on my own, to a wild and consuming passion. Theyoung lady--it is unnecessary to mention her name--was a person of rarebeauty, and mistress of all the wiles which bring young men to the feetof women. She used these unsparingly, too, for nothing delighted her somuch as to attract admiration and inspire love. Perceiving the effectwhich her grace and loveliness had produced upon myself and George, shemade every exertion to increase our infatuation--encouraged first one,then the other; and, in the end, succeeded in breaking those closeties of friendship which had bound us from the time when we had playedtogether as children.
"That is a sad confession, colonel, but it is the truth. The bright eyesand smiles of a girl had terminated a life-long friendship. The merelove of admiration in the heart of a young girl had interrupted theaffection of years--making George and myself cold and _distrait_ towardeach other. Soon things became still worse. From friends we had becomemere acquaintances--from acquaintances we became strangers, and finallyfoes. Busy-bodies whispered, tale-bearers blew the flames. If the younglady smiled on me at a party where George was present, the good peoplearound us looked at _him_ with satirical meaning. If she smiledon George, their eyes were turned toward me, and they giggled andwhispered.
"That is all tedious--is it not? An old story, which every countryneighborhood knows. You laugh, perhaps, at hearing it told of A andB,--but you do not laugh when you are one of the actors. Well, not tolengthen my history unduly, an open rivalry and enmity at last arosebetween myself and poor George. We had been spurred on to hate eachother, and narrowly escaped having an 'affair' together--appealing tothe pistol as the arbiter.
"It never came to that, however. I saw, ere long, that the young ladyhad made up her mind. George was in every way a more attractive andlovable person than myself; and after drawing me on, encouraging me, andinducing me to offer her my hand, she turned her back on me, and marriedGeorge!
"Such was the result of the campaign. George had won,--and I am obligedto say that I hated him cordially. I should never have done so, fromthe simple fact of his success. I am not so ignoble as that, my dearcolonel. Bitter as was my disappointment, I could have bowed to thefiat--pardoned the young lady--and offered my hand to dear George; butthere were our 'friends,' the busy-bodies and talebearers. They wereunresting in their exertions--took the whole affair under their personalsupervision, and invented a hundred fables to sting and arouse me. Youwould have said that they were bloody minded--the busy-bodies--andbent
on trouble; that their aim was to profoundly enrage me, and causebloodshed. George had laughed at me, they said; never had had a moment'sdoubt of the young lady's sentiments; had often jested about me, andexpressed his pity for my 'silly presumption;' had even amused himselfand the young lady, by mimicking my peculiarities, and raising a laughat my expense.
"These reports were persistently and regularly repeated for myinformation: I was baited, and worried, and driven nearly mad bythem--finally a duel nearly resulted; but that last step was not taken.I simply made my bow to the happy pair, left them without a word, andreturned home, determined to drop the whole matter--but none the lessenraged and embittered.
"From that moment George and myself rarely met, and never as friends.I had been brought to hate him--he knew the fact--and although he wasinnocent of all wrong to me, as I know to-day, made no effort to win myregard again. He was as proud as myself--he said nothing--and our pathshere separated forever.
"Such is the necessary introduction, colonel," said General Davenant,"to the events which I propose to relate."
XIX.
THE MURDER.
"More than twenty years had passed," continued General Davenant, "whenthat old hatred which had been aroused in me, toward George Conway,produced bitter fruits.
"I was to be taught by a terrible experience that hatred is a deadlysin; that God punishes it more severely than all other sins, for it isthe poison which turns the whole heart to bitterness. I had indulgedit--made no effort to banish it--nourished it like a snake in therecesses of my breast, and now God decreed, as a punishment, that thesnake should turn and sting me.
"To go back for a moment, however. George had married--a year afterwardI had imitated him. My wife was an angel upon earth--she is an angel inheaven now--and in comparison with the deep affection which I felt forher, the ephemeral fancy for the young lady whom my rival had married,appeared the veriest trifle. William Conway had also married, and he andGeorge, with their wives, were living at Five Forks. William was judgeof the circuit--George managed the estate--and their affection for eachother, at this period of their mature manhood, was said to exceed thatof their youth.
"'Was said to,' I say, colonel; for I never saw either of them. Allintercourse between "The Pines" and "Five Forks" had ceased twenty yearsbefore; and George and William Conway were as much strangers to me,as if we lived in opposite quarters of the globe; for time had notchanged--or rather restored--the _entente cordial_ of the past. On thecontrary, the feud had become chronic--the gulf separating us hadgrown deeper. When I met either of the brothers, we exchanged nogreetings--passed without looking at each other--and the 'family feud'between the Davenants and the Conways was not even alluded to; it hadbecome an old story, and lost its interest.
"Such was the condition of things--such the attitude which I occupiedtoward the two brothers--when the event, which I am about to relate,took place. The event in question was tragic and terrible. It camewithout warning, to shock the entire surrounding country. One night, onhis return from the county seat, whither he was said to have goneupon some matter of business, George Conway was murdered, and his bodyconcealed in some bushes by the roadside.
"The body was not discovered until the morning succeeding the murder.His riderless horse was then seen standing at the door of the stable atFive Forks, and in great terror. Judge Conway set out rapidly to lookfor his brother, who was supposed to have met with some accident. Two orthree neighbors, whom he chanced to meet, joined in the search; the bodywas discovered; and, on examination, revealed a deep gash in the regionof the heart, apparently inflicted by a dagger or a knife.
"The blow had evidently been mortal--no other hurt was visible. GeorgeConway seemed to have been waylaid by some unknown person, and murderedon his return from the court-house.
"It was impossible to divine the perpetrator of the crime, or form anyidea of his motive. Upon the person of the murdered man a large sum ofmoney, which he had received that day, was discovered. He had not beenwaylaid, thus, by one designing to rob him; and his peaceful and amiablecharacter excluded the hypothesis that he had aroused such enmity ascould have led to the bloody deed. The whole affair was a profoundmystery--no clue could be discovered to the perpetrator, or the motiveof the crime--and the body was borne to "Five Forks," where it was laidin state to await burial on the next day.
"Judge Conway, it was said, had nearly lost his reason at thissudden and terrible blow. He had loved his brother with extraordinaryaffection; and the event struck him like a thunderbolt. His stupor ofgrief was succeeded by rage. He fell into one of his paroxysms. Withflushed face, bloodshot eyes, and mouth foaming with a species offury, he mounted his horse, went at full speed to the court-house, madeinquiries of everybody who had seen his brother, asked with whom he hadlast been seen, and left no stone unturned to ferret out the author ofthe crime.
"Meanwhile, the whole county was discussing, with awe-struck eyes, theextraordinary event. Who could have perpetrated the act? Who could havewaylaid and murdered a man so universally popular? Who was safe, ifsuch a state of things could exist in a peaceful community,--if a goodcitizen could not ride to see a neighbor, or to the county seat, withoutdanger of being murdered?
"Grief, indignation, horror, were the universal sentiments. Some onemust be discovered upon whom to lay the crime. And that some one was theindividual before you, colonel!"
XX.
THE KNIFE.
"Let me continue, I beg," continued General Davenant, gloomily. "Yourlook of astonishment is quite natural; you feel the indignation of agentleman at my words; but allow me to go on with my narrative.
"Poor George Conway was buried on the day after the discovery of hisbody, and an immense concourse accompanied him to his grave. The funeralprocession was a mile long, for the notoriety attached to the eventhad drawn people from far and near; and when the body reached thegrave-yard, the crowd nearly filled the small enclosure.
"I was present in my carriage with my wife, and my son Charles yonder,then a child in arms. You will understand, colonel, that I had not theheart to be absent. I had long ceased to feel a sentiment of any greatregard for the Conways; but at the intelligence of George's suddendeath, all my old friendship had revived--the old kindly feeling cameback; pity banished all enmity. I thought of his former love for me,and I determined to do all that remained in my power to show mysympathy--attend his funeral among those who mourned him.
"Well, the body was borne to the grave, the service read, andthe remains of the unfortunate gentleman deposited in their lastresting-place. Then the clods rattled on the coffin, the service ended,and George Conway had passed away from all eyes.
"I looked at his poor wife and brother with tears in my eyes. All myenmity was gone--my memory went back to the old scenes; at that instantI could have reached out my arms, and drawn the bereaved brother to myheart, mingling my tears with his own.
"All at once, however, I looked at Judge Conway with astonishment. Ihad expected to see him overwhelmed with grief--but as he now raised hishead, and turned in the direction of the spot where I was standing,I saw that his features were convulsed with wrath. His cheeks werecrimson, his teeth clenched, his eyes injected with blood. Suddenlythese bloodshot eyes met my own--the cheeks a moment before so red,grew pale--and exclaiming, 'It is you who murdered my brother!' he threwhimself upon me with the fury of a wild animal, and his fingers werenearly buried in my throat.
"The assault was so sudden and terrible that I staggered back, andnearly fell over the grave.
"Then regaining my self-possession, I caught Judge Conway by the throatin turn, hurled him from me, and stood confronting him, pale, panting,my throat bleeding--and resolved if he attacked me again to put him todeath with the first weapon upon which I could lay my hand.
"He was, meanwhile, struggling in the hands of his friends, who, by mainforce, held him back.
"'Let me go!' he shouted, foaming at the mouth with rage--'that manmurdered my brother! I will take the law into my own hands!
he shall notleave this spot alive! He dares to come here in the presence of the deadbody of George Conway--and he is his murderer!'
"These words were rather howled than uttered. The speaker seemed tohave lost his reason, from pure excess of rage. If his friends had notrestrained him by main force, he would have thrown himself upon me asecond time, when one of us would have lost his life, colonel, for I wasnow as violently enraged as himself.
"That _I_ should be thus publicly branded with the basest crime! thatthe representative of the old and honorable house of the Davenants,should be thus grossly insulted, his person assailed, his good name tornfrom him--that he should be denounced thus in the presence of all as afelon and murderer!
"'You are insane, sir!' I at length said, struggling to regain mycoolness. 'Your grief has affected your brain! I can pardon much in youtoday, sir, but beware how you again attempt to degrade me!'
"'Hear him!' was the hoarse and furious reply of Judge Conway;and reaching out his thin fingers, a habit he had caught from Mr.Randolph--he pointed at me where I stood.
"'Hear him! He affects innocence! He is outraged! He is indignant!And yet he waylaid my brother, whom he has hated for twenty years--hewaylaid him like an assassin, and murdered him! There is the proof!'
"And drawing from his pocket a knife, covered with clotted blood, hethrew it upon the grave before all eyes.
"Good God! It was my own!"
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 28
