Frank Fairlegh Part 30

Lizzie Maurice withdrew to prepare for her return home, the woman accompanied her; Oaklands strode to the window, and remained watching the operation of harnessing the horse to the tax-cart. Wilford still retained the same att.i.tude, and neither spoke nor moved. Wentworth having glanced towards him once or twice, as if to divine his wishes, receiving no sign, lit a cigar, and leaning His back against the chimney-piece began to smoke furiously, whilst I devoted myself to the pages of an old sporting magazine. Thus pa.s.sed five minutes, which seemed as if they would never come to an end, at the expiration of which time the tax-cart, driven by a stout country lad, drew up to the door, and the two women making their appearance at the same moment, Oaklands turned to leave the room. As he did so Wilford, for the first time, raised his head, thereby disclosing a countenance which, pale as death, was characterised by an expression of such intense malignity as one might conceive would be discernible in that of a corpse reanimated by some evil spirit. After regarding Oaklands fixedly for a moment, he said, in a low, grating tone of voice, "You have foiled me once and again--when next we meet, it wilt, be my turn!" Oaklands merely smiled contemptuously, and quitted the house.

Having mounted our horses, we ordered the lad who drove the spring-cart to proceed at his fastest pace, while we followed at a sufficient distance to keep it in sight, so as to guard against any attempt which might be made by Wilford to repossess himself of his victim, without positively identifying ourselves with the party it contained. We rode in silence for the first two or three miles; at length I could refrain no longer, and, half uttering my thoughts aloud, half addressing my companion, I exclaimed, "Oh, Harry, Harry, what is all this that you have done?"

"Done!" replied Oaklands, with a heightened colour and flas.h.i.+ng eyes, "rescued an innocent girl from a villain who would have betrayed her, and punished the scoundrel -193--about half so severely as he deserved; but that was my misfortune, not my fault. Had not the whip broken----"

"You know that is not what I mean," returned I; "but this man will challenge you, will--you are aware of his accursed skill--will murder you. Oh! that fiendish look of his as you left the room--it will haunt me to my dying day."

"And would you have had me leave the poor girl to her fate from a coward fear of personal danger? You are strangely altered since you defied a room full of men last night rather than allow Clara Saville's name to be uttered by their profane lips; or, which is nearer the truth," he continued with a kind smile, "your affection for me blinds you."

"Not so, Harry," replied I; "but it is the recollection of my own feelings, when, while waiting for Lawless's report last night, I believed I should be forced to meet this Wilford--it is the misery, the self-reproach, the bitter penitence of that moment, when, for the first time, I was able to reflect on the fearful situation in which by my own rashness I had placed myself, a situation in which crime seemed forced upon me, and it appeared impossible to act rightly--it is the remembrance of all these things which causes me to lament that you, my more than brother, should have involved yourself in similar difficulties."

"But, Frank," he began--then, interrupting himself, he seized my hand, and pressing it warmly between his own, exclaimed, "My dear old fellow, forgive me if I have spoken unkindly to you; but this man has maddened me, I believe". He paused, and then continued in a calmer voice, "Let me tell you how it occurred, and you will see I could scarcely have acted otherwise than I have done. You know I went into the public-house to brush off the mud after my tumble. The instant my step sounded in the pa.s.sage, a girl tripped lightly down the stairs and ran towards me, exclaiming joyfully, 'You have come at last, then!' On finding that it was not the person she expected she stopped in alarm, and I perceived to my astonishment that it was Lizzie Maurice. She recognised me at the same moment, and apparently a new idea struck her, for she again approached me, saying, 'Mr. Oaklands, tell me, sir, for heaven's sake, has anything happened to Wilford?' Then, with woman's tact, perceiving her mistake, she blushed deeply, adding in a timid voice, 'I fancied you might have been riding with that gentleman; and seeing you alone, I was afraid some accident might -194--have befallen your companion'. All this convinced me that my suspicions had not been misplaced; and the thought occurred to me that possibly it might not yet be too late to endeavour to restore her to her father, while the recollection of Archer's account of the old man's distress determined me to make the attempt.

"Taking her, therefore, by the hand, I led her into the parlour, and, begging her to listen to me for five minutes, told her I was aware of her elopement, and entreated her to return home again, adding that her father was brokenhearted at her loss. She shed tears when I mentioned the old man's grief, but positively refused to return home.

"Finding persuasion to be of no avail, I thought I would appeal to her fears: so I informed her that I was aware of the name of the villain who had enticed her away; that I would seek him out and expose him, and that I should instantly acquaint her father with her place of refuge, and advise him to come provided with proper powers to reclaim her. This produced more effect, and, after some hesitation, she told me proudly that I had done her foul wrong by my doubts; that Mr. Wilford meant to make her his lawful wife; but that, in order to prevent his great relations hearing of it till he could break it to them cautiously, it was advisable to keep the affair quiet--(the old story, in short, private marriage and all the rest of it)--a friend of Wilford's, therefore, to avoid exciting suspicion, had kindly driven her over there the night before, and she was now expecting her lover to come, and bring a clergyman with him, who would marry them by licence on the spot; when she heard my step she thought they had arrived. The air of truth with which she told her tale carried conviction with it.

"I was about to represent to her the improbability of Wilford's intentions being as honourable as she fondly imagined them, when a gig drove up to the door, containing Wentworth and a fellow whom I recognised as one of the billiard-markers in ---- Street, dressed in a seedy suit of black for the occasion; immediately afterwards Wilford arrived on horseback. The whole thing was now perfectly clear. Wilford, having made the girl believe he intended to marry her, persuaded Wentworth, who is completely his tool, to carry her off for him; after which he went to Lawless's wine-party, in order to show himself and thereby avert suspicion. He then bribed the billiard-marker to play parson, got Wentworth to bring him, and going out as if merely for a ride had joined them here. I was considering what would be the best -195--course to pursue, and was just coming out to consult you, when the door was flung open, and Wilford and Wentworth entered hastily. The moment Wilford's eyes fell upon me he started as if a serpent had stung him, and his brow became black as night.

"Advancing a step or two towards me, he inquired, in a voice hoa.r.s.e with rage, what I was doing there. I replied, 'Endeavouring to prevent some of his evil designs from succeeding'. He tried to answer me, but his utterance was literally choked by pa.s.sion; and turning away, he strode up and down the room gnas.h.i.+ng and grinding his teeth like a maniac.

Having in some degree recovered his self-control, he again approached me, drew himself up to his full height, and, pointing to the door, desired me to leave the room.

"I replied I should not do so until I had given the young lady a piece of information respecting the character of one of the party--and I pointed to the billiard-marker, who had not yet alighted--I should then, I added, learn from her own lips whether she still wished to remain there, or would take my advice and return to her father.

"Again Wilford ground his teeth with rage, and desired me, in a voice of thunder, to 'leave the room instantly '; to which I replied flatly that I would not.

"He then made a sign to Wentworth, and they both approached me, with the intention of forcing me out. Fearing that their combined efforts might overpower me (for Wentworth, though short, is a broad-shouldered, strong man, and Wilford's muscles are like iron), I avoided their grasp by stepping backwards, and, hitting out with my right hand as I did so, caught Wentworth full on the nose, tapping his claret for him, as the pugilists call it, and sending him down like a shot. At the same moment Wilford sprang upon me with a bound like a tiger, and seizing me by the throat a short but severe struggle took place between us. I was too strong for him, however; and finding this, he would gladly have ceased hostilities and quitted me, kindly postponing my annihilation till some future day, when it could be more conveniently accomplished by means of a pistol-bullet. But, as you may imagine, my blood was pretty well up by this time, and I determined he should not get off quite so easily.

Seizing, therefore, my whip in one hand, I detained him without much trouble with the other--his strength being thoroughly exhausted by his previous exertions--and administered such a thras.h.i.+ng as will keep him out of mischief for a week to come, at -196--all events. It was while this was going on that you made your appearance, I think; so now you are _au fait_ to the whole affair--and pray, what else could I possibly have done under the circ.u.mstances?"

"It is not easy to say," replied I. "I think the horse-whipping might have been omitted, though I suppose the result would have been the same at all events, and it certainly was a great temptation. The brightest side of the business is your having saved the poor girl, who I really believe is more to be pitied than blamed, having only followed the dictates of her woman's nature, by allowing her feelings to overrule her judgment."

"You have used exactly the right expression there," said Oaklands; "in such cases as the present, it is not that the woman is weak enough to be gulled by every plausible tale which may be told her, but that she has such entire confidence, such pure and child-like faith in the man she loves, that she will believe anything rather than admit the possibility of his deceiving her."

"The deeper villain he, who can betray such simple trust," replied I.

"Villain, indeed!" returned Oaklands. "I would not have been in Wilford's place, to have witnessed that girl's look when the conviction of his baseness was forced upon her, for worlds; it was not a look of anger nor of sorrow, but it seemed as if the blow had literally crushed her heart within her---as if the brightness of her young spirit had fled for ever, and that to live would only be to prolong the duration of her misery. No; I would rather have faced death in its most horrible form, than have met that look, knowing that my own treachery had called it forth."

We rode for some little distance in silence. At length I inquired how he meant to arrange for Lizzie Maurice's return to her home, as it would not do for us, unless he wished the part we had taken in the affair to be known all over Cambridge, to escort her to her father's door in the order of procession in which we were then advancing.

"No, I was just thinking of that," replied Oaklands. "It appears to me that the quietest way of managing the affair will be to pay the boy for the horse and cart at once, telling him to set Lizzie Maurice down within a short distance of her father's shop, and then to drive back with the woman. Lizzie can proceed on foot, and will probably at this time of the evening (it was nearly seven o'clock) be able to enter the house without attracting attention: we will, however, keep her in sight, so as to be at hand to render her a.s.sistance should she require -197--it. I do not myself feel the slightest doubt that her father will believe her tale, and treat her kindly. I shall, however, leave her my direction, and should she require my testimony in support of her veracity, or should the old man be unwilling to receive her, she must inform me of it, and I will call upon him, and try to bring him to reason."

"That will not be necessary, depend upon it," returned I; "he will only be too glad to recover her."

"So I think," replied Oaklands.

"What course shall you take with regard to Wilford?" inquired I.

"I shall never mention the affair to any one, if he does not," answered Oaklands; "neither shall I take any step whatever in the matter. I am perfectly satisfied, with the position in which I stand at present, and if he should not enjoy an equal share of contentment, it is for him to declare it--the next move must be his, and it will be time enough for me to decide how to act when we see what it may be. I shall now tell Lizzie Maurice of my plan for her, and inform her that as long as I hear she is living quietly at home, and leading a respectable life, my lips will be sealed with regard to the occurrences of to-day." So saying, he put his horse into a canter, and riding up to the side of the cart, conversed with the girl in a low tone of voice for several minutes; then, drawing out his purse, handed some money to the driver, and rejoined me. "She is extremely grateful to me for my promise of silence," he commenced; "seems very penitent for her fault, and declares that this is a lesson she shall never forget. She agrees to my plan of walking, and tells me there is a side-door to the house, by which she can enter un.o.bserved.

She promises to confess everything to her father, and hopes to obtain his forgiveness; and appears altogether in 'a very proper frame of mind,' as the good books say."

"Long may she remain so," returned I; "and now I am happy to say there are some of the towers of Cambridge visible, for, like you, I am becoming fearfully hungry."

"And for the first time during the last twenty-four hours I am actually beginning to feel as tired as a dog," rejoined Harry, shrugging his shoulders with an air of intense satisfaction.-198--

CHAPTER XXV -- THE CHALLENGE

"Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall."

"More matter for a May morning."

"Here's the challenge, read it."

"If this letter move him not, his legs cannot."

"Ominous! he comes to kill my heart."

--_Shakspeare_.

OLD MAURICE, the pastry-cook, had welcomed his daughter gladly, as one returned from the grave, and had learned from her own lips, with mingled tears of joy and grat.i.tude, how, thanks to n.o.ble Harry Oaklands, she had escaped unscathed from the perils and temptations to which she had been exposed; many days had elapsed, the Long Vacation had commenced, and the ancient town of Cambridge, no longer animated by the countless throngs of gownsmen, frowned in its unaccustomed solitude, like some City of the Dead, and still no hostile message came from Wilford. Various reports were circulated concerning the reappearance of Lizzie Maurice; but none of them bore the faintest resemblance to the truth, and to no one had the possibility of Oaklands' interference in the matter occurred, save, as it afterwards appeared, to Charles Archer.

For above a week Wilford was confined to his room, seeing only Wentworth; and it was given out that he had met with a severe fall from his horse, and was ordered to keep perfectly quiet. At the expiration of that period he quitted Cambridge suddenly, leaving no clue to his whereabouts. This strange conduct scarcely excited any surprise amongst the set he moved in, as it was usually his habit to shroud all his proceedings under a veil of secrecy, a.s.sumed, as some imagined, for the purpose of enhancing the mysterious and unaccountable influence he delighted to exercise over the minds of men.

Oaklands remained a few days at Cambridge after Wilford's departure, as he said, to pack up, but, as I felt certain, to prevent the possibility of Wilford's imagining that he was anxious in any way to avoid him.

Finding at length that his rooms were dismantled, and that he would not in all probability return till the end of the Long Vacation, Harry ceased to trouble his head any further about the matter, and we set off for Heathfield, accompanied by Archer, whom Harry had invited to pay him a visit.

We found all well at our respective homes; my mother appeared much stronger, and was actually growing quite stout, for her; and f.a.n.n.y looked so pretty, that I was not surprised at the very particular attentions paid her from the first moment of his introduction by the volatile Archer (who, by the way, was a regular male flirt), attentions which I was pleased to perceive she appreciated exactly at their proper value. We soon fell into our old habits again, Oaklands and Archer setting out after breakfast for a stroll, or on a fis.h.i.+ng expedition, which usually ended in Harry's coming to an anchor under some spreading oak or beech, where he remained, "doing a bit of the _dolce_," as Archer called it, till luncheon time; whilst I, who could not afford to be idle, read hard till about three o'clock, and then joined in whatever amus.e.m.e.nt was the order of the day.

"Frank, may I come in?" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y's silvery voice outside my study door, one morning during my working hours when I had been at home about a fortnight.

"To be sure you may, you little torment," replied I; "are you coming to learn mathematics, or to teach me crochet? for I see you are armed with that vicious little hook with which you delight to torture the wool of innocent lambs into strange shapes, for the purpose of providing your friends with innumerable small anomalous absurdities, which they had much rather be without."

"No such thing, Mr. Impudence, I never make any article which is not particularly useful as well as ornamental. But, Frank, dear," she continued, "I should not have interrupted you, only I wanted to tell you something--it may be nothing to signify, and yet I cannot help feeling alarmed about it."

"What is it, darling?" said I, putting my arm round her taper little waist, and drawing her towards me.

"Why, Mr. Oaklands has been here this morning; he came to bring mamma a message from Sir John, inviting us all to dine with him to-morrow."

"Nothing very alarming so far," observed I; "go on."

"Mamma said we should be extremely happy to do so, and quitted the room to find a recipe she had promised to the housekeeper at the Hall."

-200--"And you were left alone with Harry--that was alarming certainly,"

said I.

"Nonsense," returned f.a.n.n.y, while a very becoming blush glowed on her cheek; "how you do interrupt me! Mr. Oaklands had kindly offered to explain a difficult pa.s.sage in Dante for me, and I was standing on a chair to get down the book--"