The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume Ii Part 24

"And so will I think of you, Leonora! often and often when----but hark!

what was that?"

"The signal, I must away. _Addio!_ my dear father."

"Stay one moment, see," said the Earl, drawing forth a ring which he placed on her finger; "if ever you want any favour show that ring to me, or if I am gone, to any of my family, and it will secure it for you, if it is in their power to give it!"

"_Grazzia, grazzia tanta!_" said Leonora; "and here is what will protect you and yours from every bandit in Italy; show this, and you are safe."

At the same time she gave him the small paper with the hieroglyphic marks that excited the Marquis' surprise some chapters back.

"Farewell then, Leonora! you will always know where to find me, and keep the ring for my sake."

Pressing his lips to her cheek, he commended her to G.o.d's keeping and blessing, whilst she returned the kiss with Italian warmth, but her heart was too full to speak. Then breaking away she fled from him, and was soon lost in the myrtle thicket, leaving the Earl in mute wonder and grief.

In a few moments Lord Wentworth was able to collect his thoughts; he began to think it was high time to hurry home, and give an account of himself. The grove was not far from the villa, and with hasty steps he approached his dwelling, not without those feelings all must know when, bearers of strange tidings, they draw near to relate them to unsuspecting friends.

As he approached he was somewhat surprised to see so many lights about, and still more at the groups of wondering, whispering servants in the hall, the door of which was wide open.

"G.o.d be thanked, my Lord; you are here at last!"

"Here, why, what--what on earth is all this--what is the matter?"

"My lady is very ill," replied one.

"Ah, my lady is dying," said another.

"Ill--dying--Oh! it will drive me mad! here, out of the way--make way there. Oh, Ellen--my wife--my wife! I am coming!"

With such disjointed words did the Earl hurry to his partner's side, where, as our readers will remember, he had the joy of seeing her comparatively well again, and asleep; and, after having enlightened the Marquis on the main topics of the extraordinary affair, he retired to rest, first depositing the papers on which so much hung in his bureau, in the study where we first saw him writing. Following the Earl's example we shall also claim a short repose before again proceeding with the story, and thus close another chapter.

CHAPTER XX.

"His heart was formed for softness--warped to wrong; Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long; Each feeling pure--as falls the dropping dew Within the grot--like that had hardened too; Less clear, perchance, its earthly trials pa.s.sed, But sunk, and chilled, and petrified at last."--_Corsair._

On the morning following these events the Earl and Countess, with the Marquis of Arranmore, deliberated over the strange tale at their breakfast table. Lord Wentworth had told everything to his wife during the early watches of the morning; and if she was even more surprised than he had been, she yet bore the trial with still greater calmness and patience. Lord Arranmore, perhaps of the three, seemed most affected; but their different ideas will best be exemplified by part of the conversation across the table.

"If you do wisely, Wentworth," said the Marquis, "you will keep this story precious quiet; if it gets about it will kick up a desperate row!--excuse the word, Countess, but least said soonest mended; and to try the case can do no possible good to unfortunate L'Estrange, and will certainly do you plenty of harm."

"But still, Arranmore, right is right; and if I am aware I am an usurper, I have no longer any right to remain so."

"Nonsense, my dear fellow; look quietly at it. Here is a fellow, a cut-throat, an a.s.sa.s.sin, a murderer,--and you, without any flattery, an ornament to our peerage; and because another old villain tells you he is your brother,--_ergo_, my Italian cut-throat becomes an English Earl, and my Lord of Wentworth sinks into a plain gentleman!"

"You forget, he is rightful heir, and only by an adverse fate was kept from his own. Surely, Arranmore, if you were proved to be spending another's fortune by misapprehension, your duty is to restore it, as well as all you have spent."

"It might be my duty, but I should certainly never stoop to it; besides, the case is different. Suppose the cleverest lawyer in the kingdom proved to a demonstration a convict murderer was the rightful Marquis of Arranmore, d'you think I would give up name, t.i.tle, and possessions to him?"

"I did not say so; but if this convict had a son how would it be?"

"You have no proof L'Estrange ever had a son. Take my advice,--burn the papers, and never trouble your brains about it again. I grant it maybe very romantic, and there may be a degree of likelihood in the story; but for romance I would never let solid reality slip away. Think of your wife and Augusta;--as a father you are not bound, on mere report, to bring them to ruin!"

"I hope," said the Countess, "as I have shared my husband's prosperity, I shall be enabled to share his adversity, if it is G.o.d's pleasure; and I do hope Wentworth will be ruled by right; and whatever may happen, at least I will not add to his trials by impatience or complainings."

"I am quite sure you will always be faithful for better for worse," said the Earl, with earnestness. "No, Arranmore, depend on it, whatever course justice points to, I will go; and though it would be a trial--a heavy trial--to lose rank, wealth, and authority, still the hand that gave them takes away, and we have no right to murmur. At least it will not be for long; but, however protracted the trial may be, I trust I shall have grace to bear it."

"That's right, dearest; I am so glad to hear you speak thus," said the Countess.

The Marquis did not appear at all of the same opinion; but with a slight toss of his head,--as much as to say, "You're a precious fool to lose all for justice,"--asked, "What do you mean to do first, if you are resolved to run such an absurd course?"

"First," answered the Earl, "I shall leave for Naples, and by all possible means try and find out this brother of mine, and then frankly tell him the truth, and leave him to decide what is to be done. The case will go before the House of Lords, and he will, I am sure, see the impossibility of his establis.h.i.+ng any claim for possession; but if he has a family, the t.i.tle must descend to them I fancy. However, the first lawyers will decide."

"And we shall lose our t.i.tle either way, I suppose," said the Countess.

"Poor little Augusta! I feel most for her. It will be a dark hour; but we must try by the suns.h.i.+ne within us to lighten its gloom."

"On my faith it is too hard! Certainly heaven doesn't seem to favour her children; for if anybody living should have been free from trouble, it was you, Countess! It's hard lines, I swear; and to think it's all in your own power. I call it a kind of tempting of Providence."

"You forget, Marquis, we are nowhere exempted from the common trials mankind is heir to; at the best we are all unprofitable servants; and as we have so long enjoyed the beams of fortune, we are least excusable if we faint before the first cloud. It is not I, but my husband, that is to be most pitied,--for I merely return to my former position in life, whilst he sinks to unaccustomed trials! But one thing I will promise him, and that is, he shall never know any difference in me,--except that by fonder love I will try my best to ameliorate his troubles."

"G.o.d bless you, Ellen!" said the Earl; "you have ever been my better angel."

"Oh, do not say so, Wentworth; after all I only do what it is my duty to do. Think you, when I took the solemn vows at my marriage they were empty words? I have loved you in health, and wealth, and happiness; and if a few dark days have occasionally interrupted the long career of pleasures, they have been few and far between. Really, I am almost impatient to show you how well I can fulfil that part of my vows which speaks of sickness and sorrow! We have tried the better together,--perhaps," said the Countess, with a winning smile, "we are to try the worse."

The Earl looked lovingly at his beautiful partner, thinking he had indeed found a good thing when he gained such a wife. The Marquis shrugged his shoulders, as if not much liking the turn of the conversation. The Countess arose, and left the room. When she was gone he again addressed the Earl:

"I say, Wentworth, it's uncommon rum to think, if that yarn is true, that L'Estrange was so much at his own house without knowing it! that you and he should have been after the same girl; and what made you the happiest of men, made him the most miserable."

"It is more than strange; now that all is laid open I sometimes wonder the idea never struck me. His age, likeness to poor John, extraordinary early career,--so many points of resemblance! It is hard still to fancy him, not only my brother, but eldest brother; his a.s.sociations too with Ellen are so curious! I see it is a painful subject to her; so I may give you the hint now to say little about it."

"Yes, by Jove! for though she was free to love whom she liked best, and was very wise to make choice of you, there is no possible doubt but that her refusal drove him distracted. After all, she got hold of the wrong man!"

The Marquis laughed; but Lord Wentworth was apparently little inclined for humour, and did not join in the joke.

"Let's have a squint at these papers," said the former. "I only just glanced at them last night; we shall see at once if they are forgeries or not. I wish, i' faith, they would turn out so, as you are determined to act like a fool."

Without replying, the Earl led the way to his study. The window was open,--the desk, unfinished letter, everything exactly as he had left it. There was, however, something present which excited his surprise, and this was a large case of mahogany left on his table, and a letter on the lid.

"By Saint Patrick, the Countess's jewel-box!" exclaimed the Marquis.

"This grows stranger and stranger," said the Earl, as he found his bureau burst open, and the papers gone.

"Are you sure you put them there?" asked the Marquis.

"Sure as death! There is some vile conspiracy yet! If they break faith with me our contract is ended; but let us read this letter."

"A d--d cramped piece of penmans.h.i.+p,' as the poet says," remarked Lord Arranmore; "can you read it, Wentworth? I am not very clever at decyphering these hieroglyphics."

"I will try; let us see,--it runs something like this:--'My Lord: The jewels are turfed again, but the papers was gave in a hurry, and are taken away. Think no more on last night, but forget you ever ran foul of Bill Stacy!"