“With Darcy!” exclaimed the old gentleman, with a mingled expression of rage and disgust, “I would rather you had told me of her death.”
“I felt certain such would be your feeling, sir,” said Stanley, with a deeply sympathising look.
“It will be useless to follow them,” cried the Squire, whose anger was quite unabated. “I shall not take her back, and I conclude you won’t. Since she has fixed herself with this deceitful fellow, she must remain with him.”
After walking rapidly, to and fro, within the room, for a few minutes, he suddenly stopped, and asked, “Where do you think they are gone?”
“I have no clue whatever, sir,” said Stanley. “Perhaps, to London — perhaps, abroad.”
“I care not where they go, since the step has been taken,” said the Squire. “But have you any proof that she has fled, — or, is it only conjecture?”
“Only conjecture, at present, sir,” replied Stanley. “But she is not to be found. I have been to Beaucliffe, but she has not been there, since she left this morning. Where can she be?”
“I know not,” replied Mr. Warburton. “Stay! she may have left a letter. I saw her writing at that small table near the window at the further end of the room.”
At this suggestion Stanley started off, and soon called out, “There is a letter.”
In another instant he had seized it and torn it open.
Seeing the Squire was watching him, he said, “The letter is for me, you shall hear it presently.” He then ran his eye hastily over it, and almost let it fall.
“Our worst fears are realised,” he cried in a voice of anguish. “There is no longer any doubt. She is gone.”
“Pray read her letter to me!” cried Mr. Warburton coming towards him.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MILDRED’S LETTER.
“I HAVE ceased to love you, Stanley, and cannot, therefore, remain with you longer.
“Once I loved you deeply, devotedly — far better than anyone else — but that is long since past, and I will not profess affection I do not feel.
“I am about to leave you for ever. The resolution has been long taken, but I have only now found the courage to execute it.
“Forget me. You will be happier without me — happier with some one better suited to you.
“It will be useless to follow me. You will not find me, and if you did I would not return with you. Again I say, forget me, as I hope to forget you.”
“But the real pang remains. How shall I quit my dearest father, whose love for me, throughout my life, has been unceasing. In what way shall I requite his affection? By the basest ingratitude, it would seem so. Yet I would prove my love for him if I could.
“I implore his forgiveness: I do not deserve it, I do not expect it, but I trust it may not be refused.
“MILDRED.”
When the letter was concluded, the agonized father, overcome by emotion, sank into a chair, and covered his brow with his hands.
Things had been in this state for a few minutes, when the door was opened, and Lady Starkey and Lady Talmash entered the room.
On perceiving the letter in Stanley’s hand, both immediately comprehended what had occurred, and were deeply touched by the scene presented to them. It was impossible, indeed, not to sympathise with the Squire’s distress.
Laying her hand upon his shoulder, in the gentlest manner, Lady Talmash endeavoured to rouse him, and at length succeeded.
Brushing the tears from his eyes, he said in broken accents, “Well, you see I have lost her! The comfort of my old age is gone. What shall I do without her?”
“It is sad, indeed!” exclaimed her ladyship in tones of deepest sympathy. “But, perhaps, it is better now than later.”
“Am I to blame in any way?” asked the Squire. “Have I done aught to cause this dire calamity?”
“One thing only,” replied Lady Talmash. “You brought this Darcy to the house.”
“True,” he replied with a groan, “I now see the error I committed. But I had the most perfect confidence in my daughter.”
“Read this,” said Stanley, giving the letter to the two ladies, “you will then be able to form an exact opinion upon the case.”
Two or three minutes were occupied in the perusal of the letter, during which the looks of both ladies expressed amazement and indignation.
“Act on her advice, and forget her,” said Lady Starkey to Stanley, as she gave him back the letter. “She does not deserve to be remembered.”
“Is that all the counsel you have to give me?” he asked. “Shall I follow her?”
“No,” replied Lady Starkey. “Even if you found her, which is doubtful, she evidently would not return with you.”
“I am quite of the same opinion,” added Lady Talmash. “You will only inflict further suffering on yourself, and on her excellent father, by any steps you may take for her recovery. Dearly as I loved Mildred — and I did love her dearly — I shall henceforward banish her from my heart. I recommend you to do likewise.”
“Lady Talmash is right,” observed the Squire, who heard what was said. “No weakness must be shown. So little can I trust myself that were my unfortunate daughter to present herself before me and implore my pardon I should infallibly forgive her. This must not be. We must be firm.”
“Am I to understand, sir,” said Stanley, “that it is your express wish that no further steps be taken for the present?”
“Not unless we receive some positive intelligence,” said the old gentleman. “And I do not think that at all likely. But I shall not return until late to Beaucliffe.” Then, addressing himself to the two ladies, he begged them to send Mrs. Brereton to him. “I want to talk to her in private on this most painful affair,” he said, “and make no doubt that I shall derive great comfort from her discourse.”
“We will send her immediately,” replied the two ladies, as they quitted the room with Stanley.
But nearly half an hour elapsed before Mrs. Brereton went to the Squire, and she then found him fast asleep in an easy chair, and did not disturb him.
CHAPTER XL.
SISTER ALINE COMMANDS MILDRED TO RETURN.
Two persons have just entered a large well-furnished private room in the principal hotel of the ancient city of Chester.
One of them, a lovely young creature, wears a riding habit, that sets off her light and graceful figure to the utmost advantage.
Apparently she has come from a distance, for she seems somewhat fatigued, and flinging herself upon a sofa, takes off her hat and lets loose a profusion of the loveliest golden tresses.
An officer is with her, who is evidently desperately enamoured, and watches her every movement with admiration. He is tall, well-built, with very striking features, and a dark complexion.
Following her to the sofa, he takes her hand, already divested of the glove, and raises it to his lips.
Passionately devoted is the look he fixes upon her, as he exclaimed, “Now you are mine.”
It is evident that the room has been prepared for them. A cloth has been laid on the dining table, and all other necessary preparations made, and a waiter now comes in to inquire whether he shall serve the repast, and is answered in the affirmative.
The pair who will be easily recognised seem in good spirits, and not even the lady manifests any compunction at the perilous step she has taken, for she laughs as gaily as usual.
Presently a couple of waiters enter, and placing several small dishes on the table, together with iced champagne and a flask of Malmsey Madeira, serve the guests, and then discreetly retire.
The fugitives who do not seem to have lost their appetite by the ride, are still in full enjoyment of the dinner, which comprises many delicacies, and Mildred has just raised a second glass of champagne to her lips, when a strange and startling interruption occurs.
The door suddenly opens, not to admit a waiter, with a further supply of good things, but a lady, clad in a dark, religious garb, and looking like a nun.
Closing the door after her, this strange intruder walks quickly up to Mildred, and caring nothing for the alarm she causes, lays her hand upon the runaway wife’s arm, and says in a stern, authoritative tone, “I have come to bid you return forthwith to the husband you have quitted.”
Already Darcy has sprung up in his seat, and calls out, fiercely, “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
But Sister Aline utterly disregards him, and again addresses Mildred, who shrinks from her with terror.
“Return with me, I say, to your husband and your father, and all will yet be well. Come at once, and I promise you forgiveness. It will be useless to resist I have followed you from Brereton Hall, and will not return without you.”
“Send this mad woman away,” almost shrieked Mildred. “She frightens me dreadfully!”
But Darcy felt that a scene must not be made, and resolved to proceed cautiously.
“Who are you?” he said to Sister Aline. “Methinks, I have seen you before.”
“You ought to remember me, Captain Darcy,” she rejoined, with a look that froze his blood. “I was with Sir Thomas Starkey when he was shot by you at Dieppe.”
“I thought so,” he replied with a shudder.
“After that terrible event,” continued Sister Aline, “I entered a religious retreat, and only came forth to rescue this thoughtless creature from your toils. Nor will I desist from my task till I have accomplished it. I will save her. She shall go back with me. Come, madam!”
And she held out her hand to Mildred.
But the latter resolutely refused obedience to her behest.
“I will only be taken by force,” she said. “And I call on Captain Darcy to protect me.”
Sister Aline regarded her in anger and astonishment.
“Are you determined to sacrifice yourself thus!” she cried. “Now is your time of safety. Be warned! be warned!”
“Nothing can turn me!” said Mildred, in a firm tone. “My resolution is taken. You waste time here. Begone!”
Sister Aline looked imploringly at her, but the appeal proved vain; and checking the terrible malediction that rose to her lips, she rushed out of the room.
As nothing further occurred, they concluded she was gone.
But the danger was not over.
“We must not remain here,” said Darcy.
“Where shall we go?” asked Mildred.
“To France,” he replied. “We will cross to Boulogne to-night. They won’t follow us there.”
CHAPTER XLI.
HOW THE SQUIRE RETURNED TO BEAUCLIFFE.
As might naturally be expected, all was thrown into confusion by Mildred’s sudden flight The Squire, as we are aware, had intended to give a little dinner on that day to Lady Starkey and Rose, but the design was abandoned, and he remained to dine quietly with Mrs. Brereton, who did the best she could for him and the others.
After dinner, Lady Starkey had retired to her own room, and was thinking over what had happened, when the door communicating with the dressing-room was opened, and Sister Aline came in.
“I thought I should see you,” said her ladyship. “Do you bring any tidings of the fugitive?”
“Yes,” she replied, sadly, “I found her at Chester, with Darcy, but could not induce her to return.”
“I feared it would prove so,” said Lady Starkey. “Who would have thought that one so well married, and blessed with such a happy home, would fling all away as she has done? It looks like madness.”
“It is little better than madness,” rejoined Sister Aline. “I pity both husband and father, but chiefly Mr. Warburton, as I am sure his love for her is deepest.”
“Undoubtedly it will be a very severe blow to him. Can you offer him any consolation?”
“None whatever,” replied Sister Aline. “Were I to describe the exact impression she produced on me, he would think I exaggerated. Conduct more heartless cannot be conceived. I wish he could forget her: but that I fear is impossible. However, I will do the best I can. Bid Stanley bring him to my chamber, and I will try to reason with him.”
So saying she retired, and Lady Starkey immediately afterwards went downstairs, and told Stanley what she had just heard.
An explanation had then to be given to the Squire, who expressed a most anxious desire to see Sister Aline. Accordingly, he and Stanley went to her room.
She at once admitted them, and Mr. Warburton said to her, eagerly, “I am told you have seen my daughter since her flight.”
“I have,” she replied, “and she seemed as gay as if she had been on a wedding excursion. My best efforts were used to induce her to return — but without avail. She is gone, and you must endeavour to reconcile yourself to her loss. I can give you no consolation.”
“I hardly like to say it, sir,” interposed Stanley; “but I think you are best without her.”
The unhappy father could not repress a groan.
“The extraordinary kindness you have shown her merits a very different return,” said Sister Aline. “But you must try to bear your heavy disappointment I repeat I can give you no consolation, or I would gladly do so. As far as I can judge, she had forgotten both husband and father, and their wisest course will be to forget her.”
“That will be impossible,” said the Squire; “so I shall not make the attempt.”
“For my own part,” said Stanley, “I am resolved to have a speedy satisfaction for the deep wrong inflicted upon me, and with that purpose I shall follow the fugitives to-morrow.”
“Weigh well your determination,” said the Squire. “If any man deserves punishment, it is Darcy, for he has betrayed the confidence placed in him in the basest manner, but I do not think it will mend the matter to kill him.”
“Remember that he shot Sir Thomas Starkey,” said Sister Aline. “That constitutes an additional motive for vengeance.”
“I have not forgotten it,” said Stanley, sternly.
“Wait till to-morrow,” said the Squire. “And we can then decide what shall be done. I did not mean to return to Beaucliffe to-night, but have again changed my mind.”
“I will go with you, sir,” said Stanley.
They then took leave of Sister Aline, and quitted the room.
Since the Squire, at the last moment, had determined to return, Lady Talmash announced her intention of accompanying him, and begged Rose to go with her.
Accordingly, the carriage was ordered, and Mr. Warburton and Stanley with the two ladies drove to Beaucliffe.
On arriving at the house, the Squire experienced a great shock, and would have fallen as he entered, had not Stanley supported him.
The sight of the many attached servants, who were collected in the hall to express their sympathy, affected him deeply.
He waved his hand in recognition, seized a candle, and, hurrying upstairs with Stanley, who attended him to the last, sought his chamber. Many a tearful eye followed him.
CHAPTER XLII.
THE PORTRAIT.
THE Squire scarcely slept at all that night, and was in such a highly feverish state next morning that it was found necessary to have advice.
Accordingly an old medical practitioner, who had long attended him, was sent for, and by this gentleman he was ordered to remain in bed, and keep as quiet as possible. The poor Squire was very unwilling to comply with these injunctions, but there was no help for it, for when he attempted to arise, he felt quite light-headed and unable to stand.
Very little was said to him about his daughter, though he was most anxious to obtain further particulars of her flight, but he contrived to extort a promise from Stanley not to set off in pursuit of Darcy without his consent, which it was quite evident he did not mean to grant The Squire’s bedroom was large and handsome, and over the chimney piece hung a portrait of his daughter taken about two years previously.
This portrait — a very beautiful work of art — was a great comfort to him at this sad juncture. The curtains of the bed were drawn back, so that he could
contemplate the lovely features while reclining on his pillow; and it may be safely said that they had never pleased him so much before.
“I may never behold her again,” he thought, “but I shall always have that portrait with me; and I must take good care of it.”
Mr. Warburton did not improve so rapidly as those around him anticipated. Up to this date he had never really known a day’s illness — his constitution being so robust that he could shake off an ordinary ailment at once. But now the blow proved too much for him. His moral system gave way. During a few days the fever increased, and for a short time seemed to affect his brain, and he rambled a good deal about Mildred.
At this critical period Lady Starkey came over to Beaucliffe, and she and Lady Talmash watched by turns at the Squire’s couch. We will not venture to assert that his life was saved by this gentle nursing — though the old surgeon was of that opinion, — and certainly no man could have been more fortunate in regard to nurses than Mr. Warburton, for even Rose came and sat by his side.
But there was another person, whom the Squire wished to see, and he spoke to Stanley about her. This was Sister Aline. The recluse had produced a great impression upon him, and he wished to converse with her. Would she come, now and then, and sit by him at night? Stanley had no doubt she would, and promised to ask her. Next day, he brought word that she would come, and in the evening the carriage was sent for her.
On her arrival, she was met by Stanley, and at once taken to the Squire’s room. Lady Starkey was still there, but she immediately arose, and after bidding the Squire good-night, departed. Stanley left at the same time.
Sister Aline then knelt down, and prayed long and fervently; after which she arose and took Lady Starkey’s seat.
“I wished to see you,” said the Squire, “as I have something to say to you. For several days I have not mentioned my daughter’s name to anyone. Can you give me any information respecting her?”
“One of the sisters has written to tell me that she has gone with Darcy to Boulogne; and I believe it to be true. Probably they will go on to Paris, and perhaps to Italy.”
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