Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  MILDRED PUT TO A SEVERE TRIAL:--HER FIRMNESS.

  "My mind troubles me," said Lindsay: "Mildred, hear me--and mark what Isay. Our fortunes are coming to a period of deep interest: it istherefore no time to deal in evasive speeches, or to dally with coy andgirlish feelings. I wish, my daughter, to be understood."

  "Father, have I offended you?" inquired Mildred, struck with the painfuland almost repulsive earnestness of Lindsay's manner.

  "Arthur Butler has been at the Dove Cote," he said, sternly, "and youhave concealed it from me. That was not like my child."

  "Father!" exclaimed Mildred, bursting into tears.

  "Nay--these tears shall not move me from my resolution. As a parent Ihad a right, Mildred, to expect obedience from you; but you saw him inthe very despite of my commands: here, on the confines of the Dove Cote,you saw him."

  "I did--I did."

  "And you were silent, and kept your secret from your father's bosom."

  "You forbade me to speak of him," replied Mildred, in a low and sobbingvoice, "and banished me from your presence when I but brought his nameupon my lips."

  "He is a villain, daughter; a base wretch that would murder my peace,and steal my treasure from my heart."

  Mildred covered her eyes with her hands, and trembled in silent agony.

  "I have received letters," continued Lindsay, "that disclose to me avile plot against my life. This same Butler--this furious and fanaticrebel--has been lurking in the neighborhood of my house, to watch myfamily motions, to pry into the character of my guests, to possesshimself of my sacred confidences, to note the incoming and the out-goingof my most attached friends, and thereupon to build an accusation oftreason before this unholy and most accursed power that has usurpeddominion in the land. I am to be denounced to these malignant masters,and to suffer such penalties as their passions may adjudge. And all thisthrough the agency of a man who is cherished and applauded by my owndaughter!"

  "My dear father, who has thus abused your mind, and led your thoughtsinto a current so foreign from that calm judgment with which you havebeen accustomed to look upon the things of life?"

  "Can you deny, Mildred, that this Butler followed Tyrrel to the DoveCote; lay concealed here, close at hand; sought by discourse throughsome of his coadjutors with Tyrrel's servant, to learn the object ofTyrrel's visit; and offered gross outrage to the man when he failed topersuade him to betray his master? Can you deny this? Can you deny thathe fled precipitately from his hiding-place when he could no longerconceal his purpose?--and, knowing these things, can you doubt he is avillain?"

  "He is no villain, father," said Mildred, indignantly. "These are thewretched forgeries of that unworthy man who has won your confidence--aman who is no less an enemy to your happiness than he is a selfishcontriver against mine. The story is not true: it is one of Tyrrel'sbasest falsehoods."

  "And Butler was not here; you would persuade me so, Mildred?"

  "He was in the neighborhood for a single night; he journeyed southwardsin the course of his duty," answered Mildred, mildly.

  "And had no confederates with him?"

  "He was attended by a guide--only one--and hurried onwards withoutdelay."

  "And you met him on that single night--by accident, I suppose?"

  "Do you doubt my truth, father?"

  "Mildred, Mildred! you will break my heart. Why was he here at all--whydid you meet him?"

  "He came, father--" said Mildred, struggling to speak through a suddenburst of tears.

  "Silence! I will hear no apology!" exclaimed Lindsay. Then relenting inan instant, he took his daughter's hand, as he said: "My child, thou artinnocent in thy nature, and knowest not the evil imaginings of thisworld. He wickedly lied, if he told you that he came casually hither, orthat his stay was circumscribed to one short night. I have proofs, fulland satisfactory, that, for several days, he lay concealed in thisvicinity; and, moreover, that his scheme was frustrated only by anunexpected discovery, made through the indiscretion of a drunken bully,who came linked with him in his foul embassy. It was a shameless lie,invented to impose upon your credulity, if he gave you room to believeotherwise."

  "Arthur Butler scorns a falsehood, father, with the deepest scorn thatbelongs to a noble mind, and would resent the charge with the spirit ofa valiant and virtuous man. If Mr. Tyrrel has such accusations to make,it would be fitter they should be made face to face with the man hewould slander, than in my father's ear. But it is the nature of theserpent to sting in the grass, not openly to encounter his victim."

  "The first duty of a trusty friend is to give warning of the approach ofan enemy--and that has Tyrrel done. For this act of service does hedeserve your rebuke? Could you expect aught else of an honorablegentleman? Shame on you, daughter!"

  "Father, I know the tale to be wickedly, atrociously false. ArthurButler is not your enemy. Sooner would he lay down his life than evenindulge a thought of harm to you. His coming hither was not unknown tome--his delay, but one brief night; business of great moment called himhastily towards the army of the south."

  "You speak like a girl, Mildred. I have, against this tale, the avowalof a loyal and brave soldier. Aye, and let me tell you--favorably as youmay deem of this false and traitorous rebel--his wily arts have beenfoiled, and quick vengeance is now upon his path--his doom is fixed."

  "For heaven's sake, father, dear father, tell me what this means. Haveyou heard of Arthur?" cried Mildred, in the most impassioned accents ofdistress, at the same time throwing her head upon Lindsay's breast. "Oh,God! have you heard aught of harm to him?"

  "Girl! foolish, mad, self-willed girl!" exclaimed Lindsay, disengaginghimself from his daughter, and rising from his seat and angrily stridinga few paces upon the terrace. "Dare you show this contumacy to me! No, Idid not mean that--have you the heart, Mildred, to indulge thesepassionate fervors for the man I hate more than I can hate any otherliving thing! He, a wretch, upon whose head I invoke nightly curses! Aloathsome, abhorred image to my mind! Hear me, Mildred, and hear me,though your heart break while I utter it--May the felon's death whelmhim and his name in eternal disgrace!--may his present captivity bebeset with all the horrors of friendlessness, unpitied--"

  "His captivity, father! And has he then fallen into the hands of theenemy? Quick! tell me all!--I shall die--my life is wrapped up in his!"ejaculated Mildred, in agony, as she sprang towards her father andseized his arm, and then sank at his feet.

  "For God's sake, my child!" said Lindsay, becoming alarmed at theviolence of the paroxysm he had excited, and now lifting his daughterfrom the ground. "Mildred!--speak, girl! This emotion will drive me mad.Oh, fate, fate!--how unerringly dost thou fulfil the sad predictions ofmy spirit! How darkly does the curse hang upon my household! Mildred,dear daughter, pardon my rash speech. I would not harm thee, child--no,not for worlds!"

  "Father, you have cruelly tortured my soul," said Mildred, reviving fromthe half lifeless state into which she had fallen, and which for somemoments had denied her speech. "Tell me all; on my knees, father, Iimplore you."

  "It was a hasty word, daughter," replied Lindsay, ill concealing theperturbation of his feelings; "I meant not what I said."

  "Nay, dear father," said Mildred, "I am prepared to hear the worst; youspoke of Arthur's captivity."

  "It was only a rumor," replied Lindsay, struck with apprehension at hisdaughter's earnestness, and now seeking to allay the feeling his hinthad aroused in her mind; "it may be exaggerated by Tyrrel, whose letter,hastily written, mentions the fact, that Butler had been made a prisonerby some bands of Tories, amongst whom he had rashly ventured. Theclemency of his king may yet win him back to his allegiance. A salutaryconfinement, at least, will deprive him of the power of mischief. Hislands will be confiscated--and the close of the war, now fastapproaching, will find him a houseless adventurer, baffled in histreason, and unpitied by all good men. This should persuade you,Mildred, to renounce your unnatural attachment, and to think no more ofone whose cau
se heaven has never sanctioned, and whose condition in lifeshould forbid all pretension to your regard--one, above all, repulsiveeven to loathing to the thoughts of your father."

  "I loved him, father, in his happiest and brightest day," said Mildred,firmly; "I cannot desert him in his adversity. Oh, speak to me no more!Let me go to my chamber; I am ill and cannot bear this torrent of yourdispleasure."

  "I will not detain you, Mildred. In sorrow and suffering, but still witha father's affection as warmly shining on you as when, in earliestinfancy, I fondled thee upon my knee, I part with thee now. One kiss,girl. There, let that make peace between us. For your sake and my own, Ipledge my word never to distress you with this subject again. Destinymust have its way, and I must bide the inevitable doom."

  With a heavy heart and an exhausted frame, Mildred slowly and tearfullywithdrew.

  Lindsay remained some time fixed upon the spot where his daughter hadleft him. He was like a man stupefied and astounded by a blow. Hisconference had ended in a manner that he had not prepared himself toexpect. The imputed treachery of Butler, derived from Tyrrel's letters,had not struck alarm into the heart of Mildred, as he had supposed itcould not fail to do. The wicked fabrication had only recoiled upon theinventor; and Mildred, with the resolute, confident, and unfalteringattachment of her nature, clung with a nobler devotion to her lover. ToLindsay, in whose mind no distrust of the honesty of Tyrrel could findshelter; whose prejudices and peculiar temperament came in aid of thegross and disgraceful imputation which the letters inferred, theconstancy and generous fervor of his daughter towards the cause ofButler seemed to be a mad and fatal infatuation.

  Ever since his first interview with Mildred on the subject of herattachment, his mind had been morbidly engrossed with the reflections towhich it had given rise. There was such a steadiness of purpose apparentin her behavior, such an unchangeable resolve avowed, as seemed to him,in the circumstances of her condition, to defy and stand apart from theordinary and natural impulses by which human conduct is regulated. Hegrew daily more abstracted and moody in his contemplations; and as studyand thought gave a still graver complexion to his feelings, his mindfled back upon his presentiments; and that intense, scholar-likesuperstition, which I have heretofore described as one of the tendenciesof his nature, began more actively to conjure up its phantasmagoriabefore his mental vision. A predominating trait of this superstition wasan increasing conviction that, in Mildred's connexion with ArthurButler, there was associated some signal doom to himself, that was toaffect the fortunes of his race. It was a vague, misty, obscureconsciousness of impending fate, the loss of reason or the loss of lifethat was to ensue upon that alliance if it should ever take place.

  It was such a presentiment that now, in the solitary path of Lindsay'slife, began to be magnified into a ripening certainty of ill. The needleof his mind trembled upon its pivot, and began to decline towards afearful point; that point was--frenzy. His studies favored thisapprehension--they led him into the world of visions. The circumstancesof his position favored it. He was perplexed by the intrigues ofpoliticians, against whom he had no defence in temper nor worldly skill:he was deluded by false views of events: he was embarrassed anddissatisfied with himself: above all, he was wrought upon, bewildered,and glamoured (to use a most expressive Scotch phrase) by theremembrance of a sickly dream.

  Thus hunted and badgered by circumstances, he fled with avidity to thedisclosures made in Tyrrel's letters, to try, as a last effort, theireffect upon Mildred, hoping that the tale there told might divert herfrom a purpose which now fed all his melancholy.

  The reader has just seen how the experiment had failed.

  Lindsay retired to his study, and, through the remainder of the day,sought refuge from his meditations in the converse of his books. Thesemute companions, for once, failed to bring him their customary balm. Hisfeelings had been turned, by the events of the morning, into a currentthat bore them impetuously along towards a dark and troubled ocean ofthought; and when the shades of evening had fallen around him, he wasseen pacing the terrace with a slow and measured step.

  "It is plain, she passionately loves Butler," he said, "in despite ofall the visible influences around her. Her education, habits,affections, duty--all set in an opposing tide against this passion, andyet does it master them all. That I should be bound to mine enemy by achain, whose strongest link is forged by my own daughter.She--Mildred!--No, no--that link was not forged by her: it hath not itsshape from human workmanship. Oh, that like those inspired enthusiastswho, in times of old,--yea, and in a later day--have been able to openthe Book of Destiny, and to read the passages of man's future life, Imight get one glimpse of that forbidden page!--To what a charitable usemight I apply the knowledge. Wise men have studied the journeyings ofthe stars, and have--as they deemed--discovered the secret spell bywhich yon shining orbs sway and compel the animal existences of thisearth; even as the moon governs the flow of the ocean, or the fever ofthe human brain. Who shall say what is the invisible tissue--what theinnumerable cords--that tie this planet and all its material natures tothe millions of worlds with which it is affined? What is that mysteriousthing which men call attraction, that steadies these spheres in theirtangled pathways through the great void?--that urges their swift andfearful career into the track of their voyage, without the deviation ofthe breadth of a single hair--rolling on the same from eternity toeternity? How awfully does the thought annihilate our feeble andpresumptuous philosophy! Is it, then, to excite the scorn of the wise,if we assert that some kindred power may shape out and direct thewanderings of man?--that an unseen hand may lay the threads by whichthis tottering creature is to travel through the labyrinth of thisworld; aye, and after it is done, to point out to him his course alongthe dark and chill valley, which the dead walk through companionless andsilent? Have not men heard strange whispers in the breeze--the voice ofwarning? Have they not felt the fanning of the wing that bore the secretmessenger through the air? Have they not seen some floating fold of therobe as it passed by? O God!--have they not seen the dead arise? Whatare these but the communings, the points of contact, between the earthyand spiritual worlds--the essences or intelligences that sometimes flitacross the confine of our gross sphere, and speak to the children ofclay? And wherefore do they speak, but that the initiated may regard thesign, and walk in safety? Or, perchance, some mischief-hatchingfiend,--for such, too, are permitted to be busy to mar the good that Godhas made--may speak in malice to allure us from our better purpose. Aye,as aptly this, as the other. Miserable child of doubt, how art thoubeset! Let the vain pedant prate of his philosophy, let the soldierboast his valor, the learned scholar his scepticism, and the worldlinglaugh his scorn, yet do they each and all yield homage to this belief.There comes a time of honest self-confession, of secret meditation toall, and then the boding spirit rises to his proper mastery: then doesinstinct smother argument: then do the darkness of the midnight hour,the howling wind, the rush of the torrent, the lonesomeness of theforest and the field, shake the strong nerves; and the feeble, pigmyman, trembles at his own imaginings."

  In such a strain did Lindsay nurse his doubting superstition; and bythese degrees was it that his mind soothed itself down into a calmertone of resignation. In proportion as this fanciful and distemperedphilosophy inclined his reflection towards the belief of preternaturalinfluences, it suggested excuses for Mildred's seeming contumacy, andinculcated a more indulgent sentiment of forbearance in his futureintercourse with her.

  Towards the confirmation of this temper an ordinary incident, which, atany other time, would have passed without comment, now contributed. Astorm had arisen: the day, towards its close, had grown sultry, and hadengendered one of those sudden gusts which belong to the summer in thisregion. It came, without premonition, in a violent tornado, that rushedthrough the air with the roar of a great cataract. Lindsay had scarcelytime to retreat to the cover of the porch, before the heavy-chargedcloud poured forth its fury in floods of rain. The incessant lightningsglittered on the d
escending drops, and illuminated the distant landscapewith more than the brilliancy of day. The most remote peaks of themountain were sheeted with the glare; and the torrents that leaped downthe nearer hill-sides sparkled with a dazzling radiance. Peal afterpeal of abrupt and crashing thunder roared through the heavens, andechoed with terrific reverberations along the valleys. Lindsay gazedupon this scene, from his secure cover, with mute interest, inwardlyaroused and delighted with the grand and sublime conflict of theelements, in a spot of such wild and compatible magnificence: the solemnand awful emotions excited by these phenomena were exaggerated by thepeculiar mood of his mind, and now absorbed all his attention. After abrief interval, the rain ceased to fall as suddenly as it had begun; thethunder was silent, and only a few distant flashes of wide-spread lightbroke fitfully above the horizon. The stars soon again shone forththrough a transparent and placid heaven, and the moon sailed in beautyalong a cloudless sea. The frog chirped again from the trees, and thefar-off owl hooted in the wood, resuming his melancholy song, that hadbeen so briefly intermitted. The foaming river below, swollen by therecent rain, flung upwards a more lively gush from its rocky bed: thecock was heard to crow, as if a new day had burst upon his harem; andthe house-dogs barked in sport as they gambolled over the wet grass.

  Lindsay looked forth and spoke.

  "How beautiful is the change! But a moment since, and the angry elementswere convulsed with the shock of war; and now, how calm! My ancient oakshave weathered the gale, and not a branch has been torn from their hoarylimbs: not the most delicate of Mildred's flowers; not the tenderestshrub has been scathed by the threatening fires of heaven! The Dove Coteand its inmates have seen the storm sweep by without a vestige of harm.Kind heaven, grant that this may be a portent of our fortune; and that,when this tempest of human passion has been spent, the Dove Cote and itsinhabitants may come forth as tranquil, as safe, as happy, asnow--more--yes, more happy than now! Our ways are in thy hands; and Iwould teach myself to submit to thy providence with patient hope. So,let it be! I am resigned."

  As Lindsay still occupied his position in the porch, Stephen Fosterappeared before him dripping with the rain of the late storm.

  "A letter, sir," said Stephen. "I have just rode from the post-office,and was almost oversot in the gust: it catched me upon the road; and itwas as much as I could do to cross the river. It is a mighty fretfulpiece of water after one of these here dashes."

  Lindsay took the packet.

  "Get your supper, good Stephen," he said. "Order lights for me in thelibrary! Thank you--thank you!"

  When Lindsay opened the letter, he found it to contain tidings of thevictory at Camden, written by Tyrrel. After he had perused the contents,it was with a triumphant smile that he exclaimed, "And it is come sosoon! Thank God, the omen has proved true! a calmer and a brighter hourat last opens upon us."

  He left the study to communicate the news to his children, and spent thenext hour with Mildred and Henry in the parlor. His feelings had risento a happier key; and it was with some approach to cheerfulness, butlittle answered in the looks or feelings of his children, that heretired to his chamber at a late hour, where sleep soon came, with itssweet oblivion, to repair his exhausted spirits, and to restore him tothe quiet of an easy mind.