CHAPTER LII.
ROBERT PENFOLD drew himself up to his full height and uttered thesestrange words with a sad majesty that was very imposing. But GeneralRolleston, steeled by experience of convicts, their plausibility andtheir histrionic powers, was staggered only for a moment. He deigned noreply; but told Helen that Captain Moreland was waiting for her, and shehad better go on board at once.
She stood like a statue.
"No, papa, I'll not turn my back on him till I know whether he is a felonor a martyr."
"My poor child, has he caught you at once with a clever phrase? A judgeand a jury have settled that."
"They settled it as you would settle it, by refusing to hear me."
"Have I refused to hear you?" said Helen. "What do I care for steamboatsand captains? If I stay here to all eternity, I'll know from your ownlips and your own face whether you are a felon or a martyr. It is nophrase, papa. He is a felon or a martyr; and I am a most unfortunategirl, or else a base, disloyal one."
"Fiddle-dee," said General Rolleston, angrily. Then, looking at hiswatch: "I give you five minutes to humbug us in--if you can."
Robert Penfold sighed patiently. But from that moment he ignored GeneralRolleston and looked to Helen only. And she fixed her eyes upon his facewith a tenacity and an intensity of observation that surpassed anythinghe had ever seen in his life. It dazzled him; but it did not dismay him.
"Miss Rolleston," said he, "my history can be told in the time myprejudiced judge allows me. I am a clergyman, and a private tutor atOxford. One of my pupils was--Arthur Wardlaw. I took an interest in himbecause my father, Michael Penfold, was in Wardlaw's employ. This ArthurWardlaw had a talent for mimicry; he mimicked one of the college officerspublicly and offensively, and was about to be expelled, and that wouldhave ruined his immediate prospects; for his father is just, but stern. Ifought hard for him, and, being myself popular with the authorities, Igot him off. He was grateful, or seemed to be, and we became greaterfriends than ever. We confided in each other. He told me he was in debtin Oxford, and much alarmed lest it should reach his father's ears, andlose him the promised partnership. I told him I was desirous to buy asmall living near Oxford which was then vacant; but I had only saved 400pounds, and the price was 1,000 pounds; I had no means of raising thebalance. Then he said, 'Borrow 2,000 pounds of my father; give mefourteen hundred of it, and take your own time to repay the 600 pounds. Ishall be my father's partner in a month or two,' said he; 'you can pay usback by instalments.' I thought this very kind of him. I did not want theliving for myself, but to give my dear father certain comforts andcountry air every week; he needed it; he was born in the country. Well, Icame to London about this business; and a stranger called on me, and saidhe came from Mr. Arthur Wardlaw, who was not well enough to come himself.He produced a note of hand for 2,000 pounds, signed John Wardlaw, andmade me indorse it, and told me where to get it cashed; he would comenext day for Arthur Wardlaw's share of the money. Well, I suspected noill; would you? I went and got the note discounted, and locked the moneyup. It was not my money; the greater part was Arthur Wardlaw's. That sameevening a policeman called, and asked several questions, which of courseI answered. He then got me out of the house on some pretense, andarrested me as a forger."
"Oh!" cried Helen.
"I forgot the clergyman; I was a gentleman, and a man, insulted, and Iknocked the officer down directly. But his myrmidons overpowered me. Iwas tried at the Central Criminal Court on two charges. First, the Crown(as they call the attorney that draws the indictment) charged me withforging the note of hand; and then with not forging it, but passing it,well knowing that somebody else had forged it. Well, Undercliff, theexpert, swore positively that the forged note was not written by me; andthe Crown, as they call it, was defeated on that charge; but being proveda liar in a court of justice did not abash my accuser; the second chargewas pressed with equal confidence. The note, you are to understand, wasforged--that admits of no doubt; and I passed it; the question waswhether I passed it _knowing it to be forged._ How was that to bedetermined? And here it was that my own familiar friend, in whom Itrusted, destroyed me. Of course, as soon as I was put in prison, I wroteand sent to Arthur Wardlaw. Would you believe it? he would not come tome. He would not even write. Then, as the time drew near, I feared he wasa traitor. I treated him like one. I told my solicitor to drag him intocourt as my witness, and make him tell the truth. The clerk went downaccordingly, and found he kept his door always locked; but the clerkoutwitted him, and served him with the subpoena in his bedroom, before hecould crawl under the bed. But he baffled us at last; he never appearedin the witness-box; and when my counsel asked the court to imprison him,his father swore he could not come; he was dying, and all out of sympathywith me. Fine sympathy! that closed the lips, and concealed the truth;one syllable of which would have saved his friend and benefactor from acalamity worse than death. Is the truth poison, that to tell it makes asick man die? Is the truth hell, that a dying man refuses to speak it?How can a man die better than speaking the truth? How can he die worsethan withholding it? I believe his sickness and his death were lies likehimself. For want of one word from Arthur Wardlaw to explain that I hadevery reason to expect a note of hand from him, the jury condemned me.They were twelve honest but shallow men--invited to go inside anotherman's bosom, and guess what was there. They guessed that I knew andunderstood a thing which to this hour I neither know nor understand, byGod!"
He paused a moment, then resumed:
"I believe they founded their conjecture on my knocking down the officer.There was a reason for you! Why, forgers and their confederates arereptiles, and have no fight in them. Experience proves this. But thesetwelve men did not go by experience; they guessed, like babies, and,after much hesitation, condemned me; but recommended me to mercy. Mercy!What mercy did I deserve? Either I was innocent, or hanging was too goodfor me. No; in their hearts they doubted my guilt; and their doubt tookthat timid form instead of acquitting me. I was amazed at the verdict,and asked leave to tell the judge why Arthur Wardlaw had defied thecourt, and absented himself as my witness. Had the judge listened for oneminute, he would have seen I was innocent. But no. I was in England wherethe mouth of the accused is stopped, if he is fool enough to employcounsel. The judge stopped my mouth, as your father just now tried tostop it; and they branded me as a felon.
"Up to that moment my life was honorable and worthy. Since that moment Ihave never wronged a human creature. Men pass from virtue to vice, fromvice to crime; this is the ladder a soul goes down. But you are invitedto believe that I jumped from innocence into a filthy felony, and thenjumped back again none the worse, and was a gardener that fought for hisemployer, and a lover that controlled his passion. It is a lie--a liethat ought not to take in a child. But prejudice degrades a man below thelevel of a child. I'll say no more; my patience is exhausted by wrongsand insults. I am as honest a man as ever breathed; and the place wherewe stand is mine, for I made it. Leave it and me this moment. Go toEngland, and leave me where the animals, more reasonable than you, havethe sense to see my real character. I'll not sail in the same ship withany man, nor any woman either, who can look me in the face and take mefor a felon."
He swelled and towered with the just wrath of an honest man driven tobay; and his eye shot black lightning. He was sublime.
Helen cowered; but her spirited old father turned red, and said,haughtily: "We take you at your word, and leave you, you insolentvagabond! Follow me this instant, Helen!"
And he marched out of the cavern in a fury.
But, instead of following him, Helen stood stock-still, and cowered, andcowered till she seemed sinking forward to the ground, and she got holdof Robert Penfold's hand, and kissed it, and moaned over it.
"Martyr! Martyr!" she whispered, and still kissed his hand, like a slaveoffering her master pity, and asking pardon.
"Martyr! Martyr! Every word is true--true as my love."
In this attitude, and with these words on her lips, they were s
urprisedby General Rolleston, who came back, astonished at his daughter notfollowing him. Judge of his amazement now.
"What does this mean?" he cried, turning pale with anger.
"It means that he has spoken the truth, and that I shall imitate him. Heis my martyr, and my love. When others cast shame on you, then it is timefor me to show my heart. James Seaton, I love you for your madness andyour devotion to her whom you had only seen at a distance. Ah! that waslove! John Hazel, I love you for all that has passed between us. What canany other man be to me?--or woman to you? But, most of all, I love you,Robert Penfold--my hero and my martyr. When I am told to your face thatyou are a felon, then to your face I say you are my idol, my hero, and mymartyr. Love! the word is too tame, too common. I worship you, I adoreyou! How beautiful you are when you are angry! How noble you are now youforgive me! for you do forgive me, Robert; you must, you shall. No; youwill not send your Helen away from you for her one fault so soonrepented! Show me you forgive me; show me you love me still, almost asmuch as I love you. He is crying. Oh, my darling, my darling, mydarling!" And she was round his neck in a moment, with tears and tenderkisses, the first she had ever given him.
Ask yourself whether they were returned.
A groan, or rather, we might say, a snort of fury, interrupted the mostblissful moment either of these young creatures had ever known. It camefrom General Rolleston, now white with wrath and horror.
"You villain!" he cried.
Helen threw herself upon him, and put her hand before his mouth.
"Not a word more, or I shall forget I am your daughter. No one is toblame but I. I love him. I made him love me. He has been trying hard notto love me so much. But I am a woman; and could not deny myself the gloryand the joy of being loved better than woman was ever loved before. Andso I am; I am. Kill me, if you like; insult me, if you will. But not aword against him, or I give him my hand, and we live and die together onthis island. Oh, papa! he has often saved that life you value so; and Ihave saved his. He is all the world to me. Have pity on your child. Havepity on him who carries my heart in his bosom!"
She flung herself on her knees, and strained him tight, and implored him,with head thrown back, and little clutching hands, and eloquent eyes.
Ah! it is hard to resist the voice and look and clinging of a man's ownflesh and blood. Children are so strong--upon their knees. Their dearfaces, bright copies of our own, are just the height of our hearts then.
The old man was staggered, was almost melted. "Give me a moment tothink," said he, in a broken voice. "This blow takes my breath away."
Helen rose, and laid her head upon her father's shoulder, and stillpleaded for her love by her soft touch and her tears that now flowedfreely.
He turned to Penfold with all the dignity of age and station. "Mr.Penfold," said he, with grave politeness, "after what my daughter hassaid, I must treat you as a man of honor, or I must insult her. Well,then, I expect you to show me you are what she thinks you, and are notwhat a court of justice has proclaimed you. Sir, this young lady isengaged with her own free will to a gentleman who is universallyesteemed, and has never been accused _to his face_ of any unworthy act.Relying on her plighted word, the Wardlaws have fitted out a steamer andsearched the Pacific, and found her. Can you, as a man of honor, adviseher to stay here and compromise her own honor in every way? Ought she tobreak faith with her betrothed on account of vague accusations madebehind his back?"
"It was only in self-defense I accused Mr. Arthur Wardlaw," said RobertPenfold.
General Rolleston resumed:
"You said just now there are accusations which soil a man. If you were inmy place, would you let your daughter marry a man of honor, who hadunfortunately been found guilty of a felony?"
Robert groaned and hesitated, but he said, "No."
"Then what is to be done? She must either keep her plighted word, or elsebreak it. For whom? For a gentleman she esteems and loves, but cannotmarry. A leper may be a saint; but I would rather bury my child thanmarry her to a leper. A convict may be a saint; but I'll kill her with myown hand sooner than she shall marry a convict. And in your heart andconscience you cannot blame me. Were you a father, you would do the same.What then remains for her and me but to keep faith? and what can you dobetter than leave her, and carry away her everlasting esteem and herfather's gratitude? It is no use being good by halves, or bad by halves.You must either be a selfish villain, and urge her to abandon all shame,and live here on this island with you forever, or you must be a brave andhonest man, and bow to a parting that is inevitable. Consider, sir; youreloquence and her pity have betrayed this young lady into a confessionthat separates you. Her enforced residence here with you has beeninnocent. It would be innocent no longer, now she has been so mad as toown she loves you. And I tell you frankly, if, after that confession, youinsist on going on board the steamer with her, I must take you; humanityrequires it; but, if I do, I shall hand you over to the law as a convictescaped before his time. Perhaps I ought to do so as it is; but that isnot certain; I don't know to what country this island belongs. I may haveno right to capture you in strange dominions; but an English ship isEngland--and if you set foot on the _Springbok_ you are lost. Now, then,you are a man of honor; you love my child truly, and not selfishly--youhave behaved nobly until to-day; go one step farther on the right road;call worldly honor and the God whose vows you have taken, sir, to youraid, and do your duty."
"Oh, man, man!" cried Robert Penfold, "you ask more of me than flesh andblood can bear. What shall I say? What shall I do?"
Helen replied, calmly: "Take my hand, and let us die together, since wecannot live together with honor."
General Rolleston groaned. "For this, then, I have traversed one ocean,and searched another, and found my child. I am nothing to her--nothing.Oh, who would be a father!"
He sat down oppressed with shame and grief, and bowed his stately head inmanly but pathetic silence.
"Oh, papa, papa!" cried Helen, "forgive your ungrateful child!" And shekneeled and sobbed, with her forehead on his knees.
Then Robert Penfold, in the midst of his own agony, found room in thatgreat suffering heart of his for pity. He knelt down himself, and prayedfor help in this bitter trial. He rose haggard with the struggle, butlanguid and resigned, like one whose death-warrant has been read.
"Sir," said he, "there is but one way. You must take her home; and Ishall stay here."
"Leave you all alone on this island!" said Helen. "Never! If you stayhere, I shall stay to comfort you."
"I decline that offer. I am beyond the reach of comfort."
"Think what you do, Robert," said Helen, with unnatural calmness. "If youhave no pity on yourself, have pity on us. Would you rob me of the verylife you have taken such pains to save? My poor father will carry nothingto England but my dead body. Long before we reach that country I loved sowell, and now hate it for its stupidity and cruelty to you, my soul willhave flown back to this island to watch over you, Robert. You bid me toabandon you to solitude and despair. Neither of you two love me half asmuch as I love you both."
General Rolleston sighed deeply. "If I thought that--" said he. Then, ina faint voice, "My own courage fails me now. I look into my heart, and Isee that my child's life is dearer to me than all the world. She wasdying, they say. Suppose I send Moreland to the Continent for aclergyman, and marry you. Then you can live on this island forever. Onlyyou must let me live here, too; for I could never show my face again inEngland after acting so dishonorably. It will be a miserable end of alife passed in honor; but I suppose it will not be for long. Shame cankill as quickly as disappointed love."
"Robert, Robert!" cried Helen, in agony.
The martyr saw that he was master of the situation, and must be eitherbase or very noble--there was no middle way. He leaned his head on hishands, and thought with all his might.
"Hush!" said Helen. "He is wiser than we are. Let him speak."
"If I thought you would pine and die upon the voyage, no power sh
ouldpart us. But you are not such a coward. If my life depended on yours,would you not live?"
"You know I would."
"When I was wrecked on White Water Island, you played the man. Not onewoman in a thousand could have launched a boat, and sailed it with aboat-hook for a mast, and--"
Helen interrupted him. "It was nothing; I loved you. I love you betternow."
"I believe it, and therefore I ask you to rise above your sex once more,and play the man for me. This time it is not my life you are to rescue,but that which is more precious still--my good name."
"Ah! that would be worth living for!" cried Helen.
"You will find it very hard to do; but not harder for a woman than tolaunch a boat, and sail her without a mast. See my father, MichaelPenfold. See Undercliff, the expert. See the solicitor, the counsel. Siftthe whole story; and, above all, find out why Arthur Wardlaw dared notenter the witness-box. Be obstinate as a man; be supple as a woman; anddon't talk of dying when there is a friend to be rescued from dishonor byliving and working."
"Die! while I can rescue you from death or dishonor! I will not be sobase. Ah, Robert, Robert, how well you know me!"
"Yes, I do know you, Helen. I believe that great soul of yours will keepyour body strong to do this brave work for him you love, and who lovesyou. And as for me, I am man enough to live for years upon this island,if you will only promise me two things."
"I promise, then."
"Never to die, and never to marry Arthur Wardlaw, until you have reversedthat lying sentence which has blasted me. Lay your hand on your father'shead, and promise me that."
Helen laid her hand upon her father's head, and said: "I pledge my honornot to die, if life is possible, and never to marry any man, until I havereversed that lying sentence which has blasted the angel I love."
"And I pledge myself to help her," said General Rolleston, warmly, "fornow I _know_ you are a man of honor. I have too often been deceived byeloquence to listen much to that. But now you have proved by your actionswhat you are. You pass a forged check, knowing it to be forged! I'd stakemy salvation it's a lie. There's my hand. God comfort you! God rewardyou, my noble fellow!"
"I hope He will, sir," sobbed Robert Penfold. "You are her father; andyou take my hand; perhaps that will be sweet to think of by and by; butno joy can enter my heart now; it is broken. Take her away at once, sir.Flesh is weak. My powers of endurance are exhausted."
General Rolleston acted promptly on this advice. He rolled up her rugs,and the things she had made, and Robert had the courage to take them downto the boat. Then he came back, and the general took her bag to the boat.
All this time the girl herself sat wringing her hands in anguish, and nota tear. It was beyond that now.
As he passed Robert, the general said: "Take leave of her alone. I willcome for her in five minutes. You see how sure I feel you are a man ofhonor."
When Robert went in, she rose and tottered to him, and fell on his neck.She saw it was the death-bed of their love, and she kissed his eyes, andclung to him. They moaned over each other, and clung to each other inmute despair.
The general came back, and he and Robert took Helen, shivering andfainting, to the boat. As the boat put off, she awoke from her stupor,and put out her hands to Robert with one piercing cry.
They were parted.
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