Cord and Creese

by James De Mille

  CHAPTER XVI.

  HUSBAND AND WIFE.

  "It is now the middle of February," said Despard, after a long pause, inwhich he had given himself up to the strange reflections which the diarywas calculated to excite. "If Louis Brandon left Australia when he wascalled he must be in England now."

  "You are calm," said Mrs. Thornton. "Have you nothing more to say thanthat?"

  Despard looked at her earnestly. "Do you ask me such a question? It isa story so full of anguish that the heart might break out of puresympathy, but what words could be found? I have nothing to say. I amspeechless. My God! what horror thou dost permit!"

  "But something must be done," said Mrs. Thornton, impetuously.

  "Yes," said Despard, slowly, "but what? If we could reach our hands overthe grave and bring back those who have passed away, then the soul ofEdith might find peace; but now--now--we can give her no peace. She onlywishes to die. Yet something must be done, and the first thing is tofind Louis Brandon. I will start for London to-night. I will go and seekhim, not for Edith's sake but for his own, that I may save one at leastof this family. For her there is no comfort. Our efforts are uselessthere. If we could give her the greatest earthly happiness it would bepoor and mean, and still she would sigh after that starry companionshipfrom which her soul has been withdrawn."

  "Then you believe it."

  "Don't you?"

  "Of course; but I did not know that you would."

  "Why not? and if I did not believe it this at least would be plain,that she herself believes it. And even if it be a hallucination, it isa sublime one, and so vivid that it is the same to her as a reality. Letit be only a dream that has taken place--still that dream has made allother things dim, indistinct, and indifferent to her."

  "No one but you would read Paolo's diary without thinking him insane."

  Despard smiled. "Even that would be nothing to me. Some people thinkthat a great genius must be insane.

  'Great wits are sure to madness near allied,'

  you know. For my part, I consider Paolo the sublimest of men. When I sawhim last I was only a boy, and he came with his seraphic face and hisdivine music to give me an inspiration which has biased my life eversince. I have only known one spirit like his among those whom I havemet."

  An indescribable sadness passed over his face. "But now," he continued,suddenly, "I suppose Thornton must see my uncle's letter. His legalmind may discern some things which the law may do in this case. Edith isbeyond all consolation from human beings, and still farther beyond allhelp from English law. But if Louis Brandon can be found the law mayexert itself in his favor. In this respect be may be useful, and I haveno doubt he would take up the case earnestly, out of his strong sense ofjustice."

  When Thornton came in to dinner Despard handed him his uncle's letter.The lawyer read it with deep attention, and without a word.

  Mrs. Thornton looked agitated--sometimes resting her head on her hand,at others looking fixedly at her husband. As soon as he had finished shesaid, in a calm, measured tone:

  "I did not know before that Brandon of Brandon Hall and all his familyhad perished so miserably."

  Thornton started, and looked at her earnestly. She returned his gazewith unutterable sadness in her eyes.

  "He saved my father's life," said she. "He benefited him greatly. Yourfather also was under slight obligations to him. I thought that thingslike these constituted a faint claim on one's gratitude, so that ifone were exposed to misfortune he might not be altogether destitute offriends."

  Thornton looked uneasy as his wife spoke.

  "My dear," said he, "you do not understand."

  "True," she answered; "for this thing is almost incredible. If myfather's friend has died in misery, unpitied and unwept, forsaken byall, do I not share the guilt of ingratitude? How can I absolve myselffrom blame?"

  "Set your mind at rest. You never knew any thing about it. I told younothing on the subject."

  "Then you knew it!"

  "Stop! You can not understand this unless I explain it. You are statingbald facts; but these facts, painful as they are, are very much modifiedby circumstances."

  "Well, then, I hope you will tell me all, without reserve, for I wish toknow how it is that this horror has happened, and I have stood idly andcoldly aloof. My God!" she cried, in Italian; "did _he_ not--did _they_not in their last moments think of me, and wonder how they could havebeen betrayed by Langhetti's daughter!"

  "My dear, be calm, I pray. You are blaming yourself unjustly, I assureyou."

  Despard was ghastly pale as this conversation went on. He turned hisface away.

  "Ralph Brandon," began Thornton, "was a man of many high qualities,but of unbounded pride, and utterly impracticable. He was no judgeof character, and therefore was easily deceived. He was utterlyinexperienced in business, and he was always liable to be led astrayby any sudden impulse. Somehow or other a man named Potts excitedhis interest about twelve or fifteen years ago. He was a mere vulgaradventurer; but Brandon became infatuated with him, and actuallybelieved that this man was worthy to be intrusted with the managementof large business transactions. The thing went on for years. His friendsall remonstrated with him. I, in particular, went there to explain tohim that the speculation in which he was engaged could not result in anything except loss. But he resented all interference, and I had to leavehim to himself.

  "His son Louis was a boy full of energy and fire. The family were allindignant at the confidence which Ralph Brandon put in this Potts--Louismost of all. One day he met Potts. Words passed between them, and Louisstruck the scoundrel. Potts complained. Brandon had his son up on thespot; and after listening to his explanations gave him the alternativeeither to apologise to Potts or to leave the house forever. Louisindignantly denounced Potts to his father as a swindler. Brandon orderedhim to his room, and gave him a week to decide.

  "The servants whispered till the matter was noised abroad. The countygentry had a meeting about it, and felt so strongly that they did anunparalleled thing. They actually waited on him to assure him that Pottswas unworthy of trust, and to urge him not to treat his son so harshly.All Brandon's pride was roused at this. He said words to the deputationwhich cut him off forever from their sympathy, and they left in a rage.Mrs. Brandon wrote to me, and I went there. I found Brandon inflexible.I urged him to give his son a longer time, to send him to the army fora while, to do any thing rather than eject him. He refused to change hissentence. Then I pointed out the character of Potts, and told him manythings that I had heard. At this he hinted that I wished to have themanagement of his business, and was actuated by mercenary motive. Ofcourse, after this insult, nothing more was to be said. I went home andtried to forget all about the Brandons. At the end of the week Louisrefused to apologize, and left his father forever."

  "Did you see Louis?"

  "I saw him before that insult to ask if he would apologize."

  "Did you try to make him apologize?" asked Mrs. Thornton, coldly.

  "Yes. But he looked at me with such an air that I had to apologizemyself for hinting at such a thing. He was as inflexible as his father."

  "How else could he have been?"

  "Well, each might have yielded a little. It does not do to be soinflexible if one would succeed in life."

  "No," said Mrs. Thornton. "Success must be gained by flexibility. Themartyrs were all inflexible, and they were all unsuccessful."

  Thornton looked at his wife hastily. Despard's hand trembled, and hisface grew paler still with a more livid pallor.

  "Did you try to do any thing for the ruined son?"

  "How could I, after that insult?"

  "Could you not have got him a government office, or purchased acommission for him in the army?"

  "He would not have taken it from me."

  "You could have co-operated with his mother, and done it in her name."

  "I could not enter the house after being insulted."

  "You could have written. From what I have heard of
Brandon, he was justthe man who would have blessed any one who would interpose to save hisson."

  "His son did not wish to be saved. He has all his father'sinflexibility, but an intellect as clear as that of the most practicalman. He has a will of iron, dauntless resolution, and an implacabletemper. At the same time he has the open generosity and the tender heartof his father."

  "Had his father a tender heart?"

  "So tender and affectionate that this sacrifice of his son must haveoverwhelmed him with the deepest sorrow."

  "Did you ever after make any advances to any of them?"

  "No, never. I never went near the house."

  "Did you ever visit any of the county gentry to see if something couldbe done?"

  "No. It would have been useless. Besides, the very mention of his namewould have been resented. I should have had to fling myself headlongagainst the feelings of the whole public. And no man has any right to dothat."

  "No," said Mrs. Thornton. "No man has. That was another mistake that themartyrs made. They would fling themselves against public opinion."

  "All men can not be martyrs. Besides, the cases are not analogous."

  Thornton spoke calmly and dispassionately.

  "True. It is absurd in me; but I admire one who has for a momentforgotten his own interests or safety in thinking of others."

  "That does very well for poetry, but not in real life."

  "In _real life_, such as that on board the _Tecumseh_?" murmured Mrs.Thornton, with drooping eyelids.

  "You are getting excited, my dear," said Thornton, patiently, with theair of a wise father who overlooks the petulance of his child. "Iwill go on. I had business on the Continent when poor Brandon's ruinoccurred. You were with me, my dear, at Berlin when I heard about it. Ifelt shocked, but not surprised. I feared that it would come to that."

  "You showed no emotion in particular."

  "No; I was careful not to trouble you."

  "You were in Berlin three months. Was it at the beginning or end of yourstay?"

  "At the beginning."

  "And you staid?"

  "I had business which I could not leave."

  "Would you have been ruined if you had left?"

  "Well, no--not exactly ruined, but it would have entailed seriousconsequences."

  "Would those consequences have been as serious as the _Tecumseh_tragedy?"

  "My dear, in business there are rules which a man is not permitted toneglect. There are duties and obligations which are imperative. The codeof honor there is as delicate, yet as rigid, as elsewhere."

  "And yet there are times when all obligations of this sort are weakened.When friends die, this is recognized. Why should it not be so when theyare in danger of a fate worse than death?"

  Thornton elevated his eyebrows, and made no reply.

  "You must have heard about it in March, then?"

  "Yes, at the end of January. His ruin took place in December, 1845. Itwas the middle of May before I got home. I then, toward the end of themonth, sent my clerk to Brandon village to make inquiries. He broughtword of the death of Brandon, and the departure of his family to partsunknown."

  "THEN, COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BURST INTOAN AGONY OF TEARS."]

  "Did he make no particular inquiries?"

  "No."

  "And you said not a word to me!"

  "I was afraid of agitating you, my dear."

  "And therefore you have secured for me unending self-reproach."

  "Why so? Surely you are blaming yourself without a shadow of a cause."

  "I will tell you why. I dare say I feel unnecessarily on the subject,but I can not help it. It is a fact that Brandon was always impulsiveand culpably careless about himself. It is to this quality, strangelyenough, that I owe my father's life, and my own comfort for many years.Paolo also owes as much as I. Mr. Brandon, with a friend of his, wassailing through the Mediterranean in his own yacht, making occasionaltours into the country at every place where they happened to land, andat last they came to Girgenti, with the intention of examining the ruinsof Agrigentum. This was in 1818, four years before I was born. My fatherwas stopping at Girgenti, with his wife and Paolo, who was then sixyears old. My father had been very active under the reign of Murat, andhad held a high post in his government. This made him suspected afterMurat's overthrow.

  "On the day that these Englishmen visited Girgenti, a woman in deepdistress came to see them, along with a little boy. It was my mother andPaolo. She flung herself on the floor at their feet, and prayed them totry and help her husband, who had been arrested on a charge of treasonand was now in prison. He was suspected of belonging to the Carbonari,who were just beginning to resume their secret plots, and were showinggreat activity. My father belonged to the innermost degree, and hadbeen betrayed by a villain named Cigole. My mother did not tell them allthis, but merely informed them of his danger.

  "At first they did not know what to do, but the prayers of my mothermoved their hearts. They went to see the captain of the guard, and triedto bribe him, but without effect. They found out, however, where myfather was confined, and resolved upon a desperate plan. They put mymother and Paolo on board of the yacht, and by paying a heavy bribeobtained permission to visit my father in prison. Brandon's friend wasabout the same height as my father. When they reached his cell theyurged my father to exchange clothes with him and escape. At first hepositively refused, but when assured that Brandon's friend, being anEnglishman, would be set free in a few days, he consented. Brandon thentook him away unnoticed, put him on board of the yacht, and sailed toMarseilles, where he gave him money enough to get to England, and toldhim to stop at Brandon Hall till he himself arrived. He then sailed backto see about his friend.

  "He found out nothing about him for some time. At last he induced theBritish embassador to take the matter in hand, and he did so with sucheffect that the prisoner was liberated. He had been treated with someseverity at first, but he was young, and the government was persuaded tolook upon it as a youthful freak. Brandon's powerful influence with theBritish embassador obtained his unconditional release.

  "My father afterward obtained a situation here at Holby, where he wasorganist till he died. Through all his life he never ceased to receivekindness and delicate acts of attention from Brandon. When in his lastsickness Brandon came and staid with him till the end. He then wished todo something for Paolo, but Paolo preferred seeking his own fortune inhis own way."

  Mrs. Thornton ended her little narrative, to which Despard had listenedwith the deepest attention.

  "Who was Brandon's friend?" asked Despard.

  "He was a British officer," said Mrs. Thornton. "For fear of dragging inhis government, and perhaps incurring dismissal from the army, he gavean assumed name--Mountjoy. This was the reason why Brandon was so longin finding him."

  "Did your father not know it?"

  "On the passage Brandon kept it secret, and after his friend'sdeliverance he came to see my father under his assumed name. My fatheralways spoke of him as Mountjoy. After a time he heard that he wasdead."

  "I can tell you his true name," said Mr. Thornton. "There is no reasonwhy you should not know it."

  "What?"

  "Lionel Despard--your father, and Ralph Brandon's bosom friend."

  Despard looked transfixed. Mrs. Thornton gazed at her husband, and gavean unutterable look at Despard, then, covering her face with her hands,she burst into an agony of tears.

  "My God," cried Despard, passing his hand over his forehead, "my fatherdied when I was a child, and nobody was ever able to tell me any thingabout him. And Brandon was his friend. He died thus, and his family haveperished thus, while I have known nothing and done nothing."

  "You at least are not to blame," said Thornton, calmly, "for you hadscarcely heard of Brandon's name. You were in the north of England whenthis happened, and knew nothing whatever about it."

  That evening Despard went home with a deeper trouble in his heart.He was not seen at the Grange for a
month. At the end of that time hereturned. He had been away to London during the whole interval.

  As Mrs. Thornton entered to greet him her whole face was overspread withan expression of radiant joy. He took both her hands in his and pressedthem without a word. "Welcome back," she murmured--"you have been gone along time."

  "Nothing but an overpowering sense of duty could have kept me away solong," said he, in a deep, low voice.

  A few similar commonplaces followed; but with these two the tone of thevoice invested the feeblest commonplaces with some hidden meaning.

  At last she asked: "Tell me what success you had?" He made no reply;but taking a paper from his pocket opened it, and pointed to a markedparagraph. This was the month of March. The paper was dated January 14,1847. The paragraph was as follows:

  "DISTRESSING CASUALTY.--The ship _Java_, which left Sydney on the 5thof August last, reports a stormy passage. On the 12th of September adistressing casualty occurred. They were in S. lat. 11 deg. 1' 22", E. long.105 deg. 6' 36", when a squall suddenly struck the ship. A passenger, LouisBrandon, Esq., of the firm of Compton & Brandon, Sydney, was standingby the lee-quarter as the squall struck, and, distressing to narrate, hewas hurled violently overboard. It was impossible to do any thing, asa monsoon was beginning, which raged for twenty-four hours. Mr. Brandonwas coming to England on business.

  "The captain reports a sand-bank in the latitude and longitude indicatedabove, which he names 'Coffin Island,' from a rock of peculiar shape atthe eastern extremity. Ships will do well in future to give this place awide berth."

  Deep despondency came over Mrs. Thornton's face as she read this. "Wecan do nothing," said she, mournfully. "He is gone. It is better forhim. We must now wait till we hear more from Paolo. I will write to himat once."

  "And I will write to my uncle."

  There was a long silence. "Do you know," said Despard, finally, "that Ihave been thinking much about my father of late. It seems very strangeto me that my uncle never told me about that Sicilian affair before.Perhaps he did not wish me to know it, for fear that through all my lifeI should brood over thoughts of that noble heart lost to me forever.But I intend to write to him, and obtain afresh the particulars of hisdeath. I wish to know more about my mother. No one was ever in suchignorance of his parents as I have been. They merely told me that myfather and mother died suddenly in India, and left me an orphan at theage of seven under the care of Mr. Henry Thornton. They never told methat Brandon was a very dear friend of his. I have thought also of thecircumstances of his death, and they all seem confused. Some say he diedin Calcutta, others say in China, and Mr. Thornton once said in Manilla.There is some mystery about it."

  "When Brandon was visiting my father," said Mrs. Thornton, "you wereat school, and he never saw you. I think he thought you were HenryDespard's son."

  "There's some mystery about it," said Despard, thoughtfully.

  When Mr. Thornton came in that night he read a few extracts from theLondon paper which he had just received. One was as follows:

  "FOUNDERED AT SEA.--The ship _H. B. Smith_, from Calcutta, which arrivedyesterday, reports that on the 28th January they picked up a ship'slong-boat near the Cape Verd Islands. It was floating bottom upward. Onthe stern was painted the word _Falcon_. The ship _Falcon_ has now beenexpected for two months, and it is feared from this that she may havefoundered at sea. The _Falcon_ was on her way from Sydney to London, andbelonged to Messrs. Kingwood, Flaxman, & Co."