The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 2

by Johannes Scotus

  CHAPTER IX.

  "Yet more! thy billows and thy depths have more: High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast; They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave, Give back the true and brave!"--_Hemans._

  Lady Florence was, as may be easily imagined, totally unable to appearon the morning of Ravensworth's departure. She had watched him, as weknow, from her windows, waved her parting sign, and if her youngadorer's eyes had been strained to catch the last glimpse of herkerchief, not the less had hers been to see the last vestige of hiscarriage. In this she had the advantage, as her eye could trace itreceding long after he had lost her signal. She watched it till it grewa mere speck on the white road, and at last disappeared altogether. Whenall was gone the hapless girl gave way to her grief, and mourned herfolly in a paroxysm of weeping. Oh! if she could recall that hated day!she had done all, she had banished him, her vanity had its due reward.The absence of Lady Florence was a matter of no comment; she often tookher breakfast in her room, and neither the Earl nor Countess dreamed thetruth. The latter was unusually dispirited by the departure of herbrother, and altogether it was but a sombre house. After breakfast theEarl took his gun, and strolled out after some partridges.

  "We miss Mr. John, my Lord," said the keeper, "he was ay first andforemost wi' his gun; he's a braw young man, and a pity it is he shouldgae to throw awa his life in the Indies, folk are sure best at hame!"

  "You forget, Halket, he likes it. Do you think every young man likes tostay at home like yourself? I am sure if I were unmarried I would havebeen off with Ravensworth too. What think you of shooting tigers andelephants? better than this," said the Earl bringing down a brace ofpartridges right and left.

  "Na, na, my Lord, scarce better,--besides the het sun; I have cause toknow about it, having lost two sons in the Indies of Yellow Jack, asthey call the fever; fine lads they were, and most like Mr. John that'sgone."

  "Tuts, that was in the West Indies, not where Mr. Ravensworth is gone;it's a fine climate, perhaps a little hot, but to a steady young fellowlike him there is no fear."

  "West or East Indies, it's all one; I say to the devil with foreignlands, begging your Lordship's pardon for the word, and hoora for auldScotland, na place like hame."

  "You had better mind your business, and let Mr. Ravensworth mind hisown, and talk less--see, your chattering has put up a whole covey out ofshot! do hold your tongue."

  Halket saw he had better be still, and sought to remedy his error bymore sportsmanlike behaviour, whistled the dogs nearer in, and tried aturnip field where he had marked the birds to.

  Meantime the Countess getting uneasy at the continued absence of LadyFlorence, went up to her room and, after knocking twice without gainingany reply, opened the door, and was much surprised to find her sisterlying dressed on the sofa, crying like a child.

  "My darling, what is wrong? why did you not tell me you were unwell?what is the matter?"

  "Oh, it's all my doing! poor Johnny, poor Johnny! I shall never see himagain. Oh, that I was dead!" cried the poor girl, scarcely knowing whatshe was saying.

  "Hush, dear, do not say so! why, Florence, I never dreamed you lovedhim--I am sure you let none of us guess it."

  "Oh, I know it! it was my cruel, wicked heart.--I did love him, and Itold him falsehood, and then it was too late. Oh, I shall never see himagain!"

  "Gently, love, I hardly understand you; tell me all, hide nothing. Youneed not fear me, I will not betray my trust."

  In broken sentences, Lady Florence then told the whole to the Countess,and when she had finished broke into a fresh flood of tears.

  "I am glad, love, you told me all, and while it was foolish at the firstto trifle with such fragile things as hearts, it is all for the best. Iam glad Johnny showed himself such a true man as he did; I could hardlyhave thought such a young creature could have decided so properly. Andyou, darling, did right too not to press him against his conscience.Never mind, it is these partings that make such pleasant meetings! hewill come back again, and you shall prove how faithful you are. Come,Florence, cheer up, and you shall find I will not let you forget Johnny.I am sure you are both worthy of each other, you both did right."

  With these and many other kind words the Countess cheered her youngfriend; and, as she had known herself what the pangs of love were, shecould the better sympathize as only those who have felt like feelings_can_ do.

  "You are better than I was, Floss, for I thought my lover was untrue,and you know yours is faithful! come we must see you smile, you wouldn'tlike Johnny to come back and find all your roses gone."

  Lady Florence was a sensible girl, and convinced that the Countess wasright strove to bear up against her feelings. By-and-by she was wellenough to come down and go on as usual. She took a walk with Ellen inthe afternoon, selecting the Holly Walk, as she knew that was the placewhere he had last walked. She and the Countess by chance sat down on thevery seat where fifteen hours ago he had sat in so dejected a frame ofmind. As they were talking, and of course speaking only of the absentone, Florence's quick eye detected the place where the little gift shehad rejected was crushed into the velvet soil.

  "Why, Ellen, what is this shining so bright?"

  "I am sure I can't think; this is where Jeanie saw him sitting so long;you know she said he stamped something into the ground, and tore aletter to pieces--look Florence, love, there are some of the piecesblowing about."

  "I wonder, oh, I wonder if it is the little packet I refused last night!yes, Ellen, it must be; see, here is the paper it was wrapt in, with hisseal on the wax, the lion rampant, and eastern crown!--quiteprophetic--and your motto, '_Unus et idem_,' what does that mean, Ellen?we will ask Wentworth."

  The little brooch was soon rescued from its prison, and though somewhatthe worse for its rough usage, Florence determined to have it put rightagain; which was done, and she ever afterwards wore it.

  "Wentworth, what does '_unus et idem_' mean?"

  "_Unus et idem_, what put that into your head, Floss?"

  "Never mind, and don't give Scotch answers. I asked you what it meant,and you, by way of answer, ask me what put it into my head? I believeyou have forgotten your Latin."

  "No, no, not yet; it means 'one and the same,' Floss; and now give me adirect answer, and tell me why you want the motto of the Ravensworthstranslated--ah, your blush tells the tale! never mind, Floss, I couldn'twish you a better lover."

  Days passed away--slowly at first, then more rapidly--and in a week orten days the Countess received a long letter from Johnny just before hisembarkation; enclosed was a note to Florence, in which he again declaredhis undying love, and faith; it was written in high spirits, and morethan anything tended to raise those of Florence; after all it was but ayear or two, and then they would meet again. She began to look and feelbright once more; yet all her flippancy and flirtation were for evergone, as the young peer John Ravensworth had been so jealous of found tohis cost when he next met her. The day after the arrival of the letter,the newspapers announced that H. M. S. "Recluse" had sailed fromSouthampton for Calcutta, with a company of soldiers and several youngofficers. As all regrets were vain now, Lady Florence ceased to grieveover the unhappy circumstance that had driven them apart for so long,and amused herself by following in her mind the voyage of the gallantship that bore him she loved so far away. She knew too he was thinkingof her, and when at evening she watched the western star she oftenfancied how he was perhaps gazing on the selfsame planet, and it seemedas if an electric chain bound them together whilst severed so far. Oftenwhen at night the wind whistled shrill through the lofty towers,--when,too, the equinoctial gales roared amid the surrounding woods, strewingthe ground with summer's leafy honours, or whirling the broken boughsacross the park,--she would quail in heart, as she thought how one sheloved was tost on the angry billow, whilst the fine vessel was like acockleshell on the hissing surge, then she would lift her hear
tfeltprayer, as she lay on her wakeful couch--to Him in whose hand is thebroad ocean, who in the wildest turmoil can say, Peace, be still! andcommend her lover to his sleepless care. The Countess was agreeablysurprised to see how well her friend kept her plighted faith, and shehad no reason to fan the flame, which seemed to grow brighter andbrighter every moment. She often used to walk with her, and lead hermind gently and unostensibly to better things than the light, and, ifharmless, certainly useless frivolities in which she had so long shonethe admired of all; indeed her own inclinations were little bent towardssuch amusements now. Before her parting with John she had been like achild, happy in some fair garden, chasing the butterfly from flower toflower, careless of all save the present moment, forgetful of the past,heedless of the future, without aim or object save pleasure. Now it wasas if some one had pointed out the shining light, as did Evangelist tothe Pilgrim--now she cared not how soon she left idle follies; she hadsomething to live for, something to aim at, something to think on as aspur to future progress. The past was as a reminder a noble prize was inview, and she pressed forward to obtain it. The change of mind produceda corresponding change even in her appearance. The coquettish smile, thecareless toss of the head, the very walk, were either gone or melloweddown; without being crushed the exhilarant spirits were chastened, andno one could have told her to be the same being she had been only a fewweeks ago. It was all a change for the better; the Earl loved her moreas Il Penseroso, than he did as L'Allegro. The Countess loved her more,and she won the most favourable opinions from all her friends andrelatives, who saw the change without being privy to the cause. To use ahackneyed similitude, she had been like the plant, which uncrushed isbeautiful, yet void of perfume, but which gives out its most preciousodours when bruised and crushed.

  About a month after young Ravensworth had sailed the papers reported thesafe arrival of the vessel off Funchal in the Madeiras. The ship whichhad spoken the "Recluse," also brought home letters,--a long andaffectionate one to Lady Florence from himself, in which he gave aninteresting account of his voyage, and all the wonders of the deep hehad seen. Several very nice young fellows were on board, as well as manyladies going out to their husbands or friends; one exceedingly pretty,with whom he was a great favourite, he added by way of raillery, and hewas quite afraid she would make him forget Florence. He said he wasdrest in sailor's costume, and helped the tars in their tasks aloft;they had dancing by moonlight every night--the air was clear anddelightful, and they were nearing the Trades. Funchal was a littleParadise on the waters, such flowers and fruits, he wished he could sendsome of its wines to the Marquis. The stars were magnificent, and thesouthern constellations daily growing more splendid, and more brilliantthan dwellers in the northern zone could imagine. He ended by tenderestlove to his Florence and the Countess, and best remembrances to theEarl, saying he hoped to bring home the sword he had given him hackedlike a saw in many a stiff encounter. Months passed by, and then asecond letter from St. Helena arrived; so far all had gone well, theirsails were filled with the fresh trade winds again, after three weeks'becalming in the tropics, under a fierce red sun, vertical, and castingsuch rays as melted the very tar on the ropes, and beneath which thewaters seethed like pitch. They had only anchored off the island, notbeing allowed to land owing to its then being the prison of theillustrious Buonaparte. He spoke with great delight about the cross ofthe south, a constellation surpassing all his powers of description;"and yet," he added, "when on the line I beheld the great bear's sevenstars, magnified into fearful splendour, as if most glorious ere it leftits old friends, I turned from the flaming southern cross to those starssinking beneath the waters, and they alone were dear! the only, lonelylights that still bound us together, and I sorrowed when I could see nomore the well-known, cherished cluster that shines on the north, and_my_ northern star."

  This was the last letter Florence ever received from him; long ere sheread its welcome news the hand that penned it was cold, the heart thatdictated it forgotten to throb far beneath the blue waters, lowly laidamong the coral reefs. The "Recluse" was to touch at the Cape, but itnever cast anchor in sight of Table Mountain. In vain Florence scannedthe papers, in vain she read the ship news; time passed on, and noletter came. News arrived that some terrific gales had swept the oceanat the time the "Recluse" was expected to reach Cape Town, and it wassurmised she had run past, and would perhaps steer for Madagascar. Twomore anxious months passed away, in which the Earl and family left theTowers for their town residence--still no news of the vessel; by-and-bythe Earl himself, who had been the most sanguine, began to despond, andgrow anxious. The papers were full of the missing vessel, in which someof the flower of the land had sailed. Lady Florence grew pale and palerstill, as vessel after vessel arrived, and no news of the missing ship.By this time it ought to have long since arrived in India, and doubtsbecame almost certain conjectures that she was lost. Still it waspossible that she might have put in at some out of the way harbour in adisabled condition, and hope still lingered in many a mourner's breast.A war ship was sent out by the Admiralty and scoured the seas in searchof her; every port was called at, but without avail. After a long age ofsuspense, and hope deferred which sickens the heart, the frigatereturned without tidings, and the "Recluse" was struck from the NavyList. Lady Florence still hoped, so long is it before we bid hopedepart! Ships had been lost ere this for years; he was such a fineswimmer he might have been picked up by a vessel, which had sailed tothe other end of the world, or cast on a barren rock, and like AlexanderSelkirk might come back after long years. About a year after the searcha little vessel arrived at Liverpool with news, the only news evergained of the "Recluse," and it was only cruel tidings that rekindlesdying expectation to quench it again. This vessel had seen the "Recluse"drifting--a mastless hulk, on its beam ends, in a fearful hurricane offthe Cape, lat. 40 deg. 7', long. 35 deg. 13'; not a soul was on deck, and shehad neither bowsprit nor rudder. The little vessel herself could renderno assistance, though she scudded under bare poles so near as to readher name on the stern. Shortly after she heard a gun of distress, andthe last thing she saw was the ill-fated vessel lying in the trough of amonstrous billow which she could never surmount. They fancied this seahad swamped her, as they neither saw nor heard more of her afterwards.They declared her case was quite hopeless, and a worse hurricane theyhad never weathered.

  Such was the news which banished the last ray of hope from everybreast;--no, not from every breast, one still madly hoped on. But it wasa hope that belied itself, for the despairing Florence showed herbelief, though she owned it not, by wearing the garb of mourning. It wasa hope which killed its victim. As the power of swimming holds up theshipwrecked mariner only a little longer on the wide waters, and makesthe pang of sinking at last only more intense, as he strikes for thelight far in front which he knows he has not the strength to reach, soFlorence's only fed her despair. This despairing, unbelieving grief waslike a blight at the core; the heart's woe slowly, but surely, workedits desolations on the fair, frail bearer. It was slowly received, butlasting; as the frost at night imperceptibly, but surely, freezes thewaters that sleep beneath its chilling breath; or better still, theunseen, unnoticed, petrifying water hardens, chills, deadens, the livinggrass that grows green on its banks--so with Lady Florence, the grief atfirst discredited, then doubted, and little by little gradually imbibedinto her heart, and believed--whilst she denied the pang that killedher, showed its outward ravages on the pale cheek, tinted with a hecticflush that told its tale, and in the eye unnaturally bright. Her friendssaw the dire premonitions of her fate, and her brother took the bestmedical advice. But the heart's wounds are not to be cured, and when theseat of life is touched, when the root is blighted, woe to the branches!

  When the doctor saw his patient he pronounced it at once a lost case;that fast decline no mortal hand could arrest, its stay could only begained by an immediate removal to a warmer climate. Madeira was firstchosen, but as the Villa Reale at Naples had every comfort of an Englishhouse the docto
r decided on her departure thither, stating that everyhour spent in this damp, foggy country was a day lost. The Earl andCountess, deeply grieved not only at the untimely death of the young andpromising soldier, who had perished,

  "As on that night of stormy water When love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter--"

  but also at the near prospect of another loss to add to their woe,delayed not in obeying their medical adviser, and at once started forNaples in their yacht, "The Star of the Sea." The voyage was speciallyrecommended, so they sailed with the invalid about to end her short lifeamid the flowers and myrtle-groves of Ausonia's sunny clime and favouredshores!