Books: Love and Life
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life
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"Like enough," said Loveday, "but you remember me, captain, and I
swear that this poor young lady is what his Honour Sir Amyas say.
He is a generous young gentleman, and will make it up to you if you
are at any loss in the matter."
"A hundred times over!" exclaimed Amyas hotly.
"Hardly that," said Karen. "Van Draagen might have been good for a
round hundred if he'd been pleased with the commission."
"I'll give you and order--" began Sir Amyas.
"What have you got about you, sir?" interrupted Karen. "I fancy hard
cash better than your orders."
The youth pulled out his purse. There was only a guinea or two and
some silver. "One does not go out to parade with much money about
one," he said, with a trembling endeavour for a smile, "but if you
would send up to my quarters in Whitehall Barracks---"
"Never mind, sir," said Karen, graciously. "I see you are in earnest,
and I'll put up with the loss rather than stand in the light of a couple
of true lovers. Here, Jack, lend a hand, and we'll hoist the young
woman over. She's quiet enough, thanks to Mother Darkness."
The sudden change in tone might perhaps be owing to the skipper's
attention having been called by a sign from one of his men to a boat
coming up from Woolwich, rowed by men of the Royal navy, who were
certain to take part with an officer; but Sir Amyas and Betty were
only intent on receiving the inanimate form wrapped up in its mantle.
What a meeting it was for Betty, and yet what joy to have her at all!
They laid her with her head in her sister's lap, and Sir Amyas hung
over her, clasping one of the limp gloved hands, while Eugene called
"Aura, Aura," and would have impetuously kissed her awake, but Loveday
caught hold of him. "Do not, do not, for pity's sake, little master,"
she said; "the potion will do her no harm if you let her sleep it off,
but she may not know you if you waken her before the time."
"Wretch, what have you given her?" cried Sir Amyas.
"It was not me, sir, it was Mrs. Darke, in a cup of coffee. She vowed
it would do no hurt if only she was let to sleep six or eight hours.
And see what a misery it has saved her from!"
"That is true," said Betty. "Indeed I believe this is a healthy sleep.
See how gently she breathes, how soft and natural her colour is, how
cool and fresh her cheek is. I cannot believe there is serious harm
done."
"How soon can we reach a physician?" asked Sir Amyas, still anxiously,
of the coxswain.
"I can't rightly say, sir," replied he; "but never you fear. They
wouldn't do aught to damage such as she."
Patience must perforce be exercised as, now against the tide and the
stream, the wherry worked its way back. Once there was a little stir;
Sir Amyas instantly hovered over Aurelia, and clasped her hand with a
cry of "My dearest life!" The long dark eyelashes slowly rose, the
eyes looked up for one moment from his face to her sister's, and then
to her brother's, but the lids sank as if weighed down, and with a
murmur, "Oh, don't wake me," she turned her face around on Betty's
lap and slept again.
"Poor darling, she thinks it a dream," said Betty. "Eugene, do not.
Sir, I entreat! Brother, yes I _will_ call you so if you will only
let her alone! See how happy and peaceful her dear face is! Do not
rouse her into terror and bewilderment."
"If I only were sure she was safe," he sighed, hanging over, with an
intensity of affection and anxiety that brought a dew even to the old
steersman's eyes; and he kindly engrossed Eugene by telling about the
places they passed, and setting him to watch the smart crew of the
boat from the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich, which was gaining on them.
Meanwhile the others interrogated Loveday, who told them of the
pretext on which Lady Belamour had sent her captive down to Mrs.
Darke's. No one save herself had, in my Lady's household, she said,
an idea of where the young lady was, Lady Belamour having employed
only hired porters except on that night when Lady Aresfield's carriage
brought her. This had led to the captivity being know to Lady Belle
and her brother, and Loveday had no doubt that it was the discovery
of their being aware of it, as well as Jumbo's appearance in the
court, that had made her mistress finally decide on this frightful
mode of ridding herself of the poor girl. The maid was as adroit a
dissembler as her mistress, and she held her peace as to her own part
in forwarding Colonel Mar's suit, whether her lady guessed it or not,
but she owned with floods of tears how the sight of the young lady's
meek and dutiful submission, her quiet trust, and her sweet, simple
teaching of the children, had wakened into life again a conscience
long dead to all good, and made it impossible to her to carry out
this last wicked commission without an attempt to save the creature
whom she had learnt to reverence as a saint. Most likely her scruples
had been suspected by her mistress, for there had been an endeavour
to put it out of her power to give any warning to the victim. Yet
after all, the waiting-maid had been too adroit for the lady, or,
as she fully owned, Aurelia's firm trust had not been baulked, and
deliverance from the lions had come.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE RETURN.
And now the glorious artist, ere he yet
Had reached the Lemnian Isle, limping, returned;
With aching heart he sought his home.
_Odyssey_--COWPER.
How were they to get the slumbering maiden home? That was the next
question. Loveday advised carrying her direct to her old prison,
where she would wake without alarm; but Sir Amyas shuddered at the
notion, and Betty said she _could_ not take her again into a house
of Lady Belamour's.
The watermen, who were enthusiastic in the cause, which they understood
as that of one young sweetheart rescued by the other, declared that they
would carry the sweet lady between them on the cushions of their boat,
laid on stretchers; and as they knew of a land-place near the _Royal
York_, with no need of crossing any great thoroughfare, Betty thought
this the best chance of taking her sister home without a shock.
The boat from Woolwich had shot London Bridge immediately after them,
and stopped at the stairs nearest that where they landed; and just as
Sir Amyas, with an exclamation of annoyance at his unserviceable arm,
had resigned Aurelia to be lifted on to her temporary litter, a hand
was laid on his shoulder, a voice said "Amyas, what means this?" and
he found himself face to face with a small, keen-visaged, pale man,
with thick grizzled brows overhanging searching dark grey eyes, shaded
by a great Spanish hat.
"Sir! oh sir, is it you?" he cried, breathlessly; "now all will be well!"
"I am very glad you think so, Amyas," was the grave answer; "for all
this has a strange appearance."
"It is my dearest wife, sir, my wife, whom I have just recovered after
--Oh, say, sir, if you think all is well with her, and it is only a
harmless sleeping potion. Sister--Betty--this is my good father, Mr.
Wayland. He is as good as a physician. Let him see my sweetest life."
Mr. Wayland bent over the slumbering figure still in the bottom of
the boat, heard what could be told of the draught by Loveday, whom
he recognized as his wife's attendant, and feeling Aurelia's pulse,
said, "I should not think there was need for fear. To the outward
eye she is a model of sleeping innocence." "Well you may say so,"
and "She is indeed," broke from the baronet and the waiting-maid at
the same instant; but Mr. Wayland heeded them little as he impatiently
asked, "Where and how is your mother, Amyas?"
"In health sir, at home, I suppose," said Sir Amyas; "but oh, sir,
hear me, before you see her."
"I must, if you walk with me," said Mr. Wayland, turning for a moment
to bid his servant reward and dismiss the boat's crew, and see to the
transport of his luggage; and in the meantime Aurelia was lifted by
her bearers.
Sir Amyas again uttered a rejoicing, "We feared you were in the hands
of the pirates, sir."
"So I was; but the governor of Gibraltar obtained my release, and was
good enough to send me home direct in a vessel on the king's service,"
said Mr. Wayland, taking the arm his stepson offered to assist his
lameness. "Now for your explanation, Amyas; only let me hear first
that my babes are well."
"Yes, sir, all well. You had my letter?"
"Telling of that strange disguised wedding? I had, the very day I
was captured."
By the time they had come to the place where their ways parted, Mr.
Wayland had heard enough to be so perplexed and distressed that he
knew not that he had been drawn out of the way to Hanover Square,
till at the entrance of the _Royal York_, they found Betty asseverating
to the landlady that she was bringing no case of small pox into the
house; and showing, as a passport of admittance, two little dents on
the white wrist and temple.
At that instant the sound brought Major Delavie hurrying from his
sitting-room at his best speed. There was a look of horror on his
face as he saw his daughter's senseless condition, but Betty sprang
to his side to prevent his wakening her, and Aurelia was safely
carried up stairs and laid upon her sister's bed, still sleeping,
while Betty and Loveday unloosed her clothes. Her bearers were
sent for refreshment to the bar, and the gentlemen stood looking
on one another in the sitting-room, Mr. Wayland utterly shocked,
incredulous of the little he did understand, and yet unable to go
home until he should hear more; and the Major hardly less horrified,
in the midst of his relief. "But where's Belamour!" he cried, "Your
uncle, I mean."
"Where?" said Sir Amyas. "They said he was gone out."
"So they told me! And see here!"
Major Delavie produced Lady Belamour's note.
"A blind!" cried Sir Amyas, turning away under a strange stroke of
pain and sham. "Oh! mother, mother!" and he dashed out of the room.
Poor Mr. Wayland sat down as one who could stand no longer. "Of
what do they suspect her?" he said hoarsely.
"Sir," said the good Major, "I grieve sincerely for and with you.
Opposition to this match with my poor child seems to have transported
my poor cousin to strange and frantic lengths, but you may trust me
to shield and guard her from exposure as far as may be."
Her husband only answered by a groan, and wrung Major Delavie's hand,
but their words were interrupted by Sir Amyas's return. He had been
to his uncle's chamber, and had found on the table a note addressed
to the Major. Within was a inclosure directed to A. Belamour, Esq.
"If you have found the way to the poor captive, for pity's sake
come to her rescue. Be in the court with your faithful black
by ten o'clock, and you may yet save on who loves and looks to
you."
On the outer sheet was written--
"I distrust this handwriting, and suspect a ruse. In case I do
not return, send for Hargrave, Sandys, Godfrey, as witnesses to
my sanity, and storm the fair one's fortress in person. A. B."
"It is not my Aurelia's writing," said the Major. "Bravest of friends,
what has he not dared on her account!"
"This is too much!" cried Mr. Wayland, striving in horror against his
convictions. "I cannot hear my beloved wife loaded with monstrous
suspicions in her absence!"
"I am sorry to say this is no new threat ever since poor Belamour has
crossed her path," said the Major.
"What have you done, sir!" asked Sir Amyas.
"I fear I have but wasted time," said the Major. "I have been to
Hanover Square, and getting no admittance there, I came back in the
hope you might be on the track with Betty--as, thank God, you were!
The first thing to be done now is to find what she has done with
Belamour," he added, rising up.
"That must fall to my share," said Mr. Wayland, pale and resolute.
"Come with me, Amyas, your young limbs will easily return before the
effect of the narcotic has passed, and I need fuller explanation."
Stillness than came on the Delavie party. The Major went up stairs,
and sat by Aurelia's bed gazing with eyes dazzled with tears at the
child he had so longed to see, and whom he found again in this strange
trance. A doctor came, and quite confirmed Mr. Wayland's opinion,
that the drug would not prove deleterious, provided the sleep was
not disturbed, and Betty continued her watch, after hearing what her
father knew of Mr. Belamour. She was greatly struck with the self-
devotion that had gone with open eyes into so dreadful a snare as a
madhouse of those days rather than miss the least chance of saving
Aurelia.
"If we go by perils dared, the uncle is the true knight-errant," said
she to her father. "I wonder which our child truly loves the best!"
"Betty!" said her father, scandalised.
"Ay, I know, Sir Amyas is a charming boy, but what a boy he is! And
she has barely spoken with him or seen him, whereas Mr. Belamour has
been kind to her for a whole twelvemonth. I know what I should do if
I were in her place. I would declare that I intended to be married
to the uncle, and would keep it!"
"He would think it base to put the question."
"He would; but indeed, dear sir, I think it would be but right and
due to the dear child herself that she should have here free choice,
and not be bound for ever by a deception! Yes, I know the poor boy's
despair would be dreadful, but it would be better for them both than
such a mistake."
"Hush! I hear him knocking at the door, you cruel woman."
The bedroom opened into the parlour the party had hired, so that both
could come out and meet Sir Amyas with the door ajar, without relaxing
their watch upon the sleeper. The poor young man looked pale, shocked,
and sorrowful. "Well," said he, after having read in their looks that
there was no change, "he knows the worst." Then on a further token
of interrogation, "It may have been my fault; I took him, unannounced,
through the whole suite of rooms, and in the closet at the end, with
all the doors open, she was having an altercation with Mar. He was
insisting on knowing what she had done with"--(he signed towards the
other room) "she, upbraiding him with faithlessness. They were deaf
to an approach, till Mr. Wayland, in a loud voice, ordered me back,
saying 'it was no scene for a son.'"
"I trust it will not end in a challenge?" asked the Major, gravely.
"No, my father's infirmity renders him no fighting man, and I--I may
not challenge my superior officer."
"But your uncle?" said Betty, much fearing that such a scene might
have led to his being forgotten.
"I should have told you. We had not made many steps from hence before
we met poor Jumbo wandering like a dog that had lost his master. Mr.
Belamour had taken the precaution of giving Jumbo the pass-key, and
not taking him into that house (some day I will pull every brick of
it down), so he watched till by and by he saw a coach come out with
all the windows closed, and as his master had bidden him in such a
case, he kept along on the pavement near, and never lost sight of it
till he had tracked it right across the City to a house with iron-
barred windows inside a high wall. There it went in, and he could
not follow, but he asked the people what place it was, and though
they jeered at him, he made out that it was as we feared. Nay, do
not be alarmed, sister, he will soon be with us. My poor father
shut me out, and I know not what passed with my mother, but just as
I could wait no longer to return to my dearest, he came out and told
me that he had found out that my uncle was in a house at Moorfields,
and he is gone himself to liberate him. He is himself a justice of
the peace, and he will call for Dr. Sandys by the way, that there
may be no difficulty. He is gone in the coach-and-four, with Jumbo
on the box, so that matters will soon be righted."
"And a heroic champion set free," said Betty moving to return to her
sister, when the others would not be denied having another look at
the sweet slumberer, on whose face there was now a smile as if her
dreams were marvellously lovely; or, as Betty thought, as if she
knew their voices even in her sleep.
Sir Amyas had not seen his mother again. He only knew that Mr.
Wayland had come out with a face as of one stricken to the heart,
a sad contrast to that which had greeted him an hour before, and
while the carriage was coming round, had simply said, "I did wrong
to leave her."
It would not bear being talked over, and both son and kinsman took
refuge in silence. Two hours more of this long day had passed, and
then a coach stopped at the door. Sir Amyas hurried down in his
eager anxiety, and came back with his uncle, holding him by the hand
like a child, in his gladness, and Betty came out to meet them in the
outer room with a face of grateful welcome and outstretched hands.
"Sir! sir! you have done more than all of us."
"Yet you and your young champion here were the victors," said Mr.
Belamour.
"Ah, we dared and suffered nothing like you."
"I hope you did not suffer much," said the major, looking at the calm
face and neatly-tied white hair, which seemed to have suffered no
disarrangement.
"No," said Mr. Belamour, smiling, "my little friend Eugene, ay, and
my nephew himself, are hoping to hear I was released from fetters
and a heap of straw, but I took care to give them no opportunity. I
merely told them they were under a mistake, and had better take care.
I gave them a reference or two, but I saw plainly that was of no use,
though they promised to send, and then I did exactly as they bade me,
so as to deprive them of all excuse for meddling with me, letting
them know that I could pay for decent treatment so long as I was in
their hands."
"Did you receive it?"
"I was told in a mild manner, adapted to my intelligence, that if I
behaved well, I might eat at the master's table, and have a room with
only one inmate. Of the former I have not an engaging experience,
either as to the fare, the hostess, or the company. Of the latter,
happily I know little, as I only know that my comrade was to be a
harmless gibbering idiot; of good birth, poor fellow. However, the
sounds I heard, and the court I looked into, convinced me that my
privileges were worth paying for."
He spoke very quietly, but he shuddered involuntarily, and Betty,
unable to restrain her tears, retreated to her sister's side.
CHAPTER XXXVI. WAKING.
So Love was still the Lord of all.--SCOTT.
The summer sun was sinking and a red glow was on the wall above Aurelia's
head when she moved again, upon the shutting of the door, while supper
was being taken by the gentlemen in the outer room.
Presently her lips moved, and she said, "Sister," not in surprise,
but as if she thought herself at home, and as Betty gently answered,
"Yes, my darling child," the same voice added, "I have had such a
dream; I thought I was a chrysalis, and that I could not break my
shell nor spread my wings."
"You can now, my sweet," said Betty, venturing to kiss her.
Recollection came. "Sister Betty, is it you indeed?" and she threw
her arms round Betty's neck, clinging tight to her in delicious
silence, till she raised her head and said: "No, this is not home.
Oh, is it all true?"
"True that I have you again, my dear, dearest, sweetest child," said
Betty. "Oh, thank God for it."
"Thank God," repeated Aurelia. "Now I have you nothing will be
dreadful. But where am I? I thought once I was in a boat with you
and Eugene, and some one else. Was it a dream? I can't remember
anything since that terrible old woman made me drink the coffee.
You have not come there, have you?"
"No, dear child, it was no dream that you were in a boat. We had
been searching everywhere for you, and we were bringing you back
sound, sound asleep," said Betty, in her tenderness speaking as it
to a little child.
"I knew you would," said Aurelia; "I knew God would save me. Love is
strong as death, you know," she added dreamily: "I think I felt it all
round me in that sleep."
"That was what you murmured once or twice in your sleep," said Betty.
"And now, oh! it is so sweet to lie here and know it is you. And
wasn't _he_ there too?"
"Sir Amyas? Yes, my dear. He came for you. He and my father and
the others are in the other room waiting for you to wake."
"I hear their voices," cried Aurelia, with a start, sitting up. "Oh!
that's my papa's voice! Oh! how good it is to hear it!"
"I will call him as soon as I have set you a little in order. Are
you sure you are well, my dearest? No headache?"
"Quite, quite well! Why, sister, I have not been ill; and if I had,
I should skip to see you and hear their voices, only I wish they would
speak louder! That's Eugene! Oh! they are hushing him. Let me make
haste," and she moved with an alacrity that was most reassuring. "But
I can't understand. Is it morning or evening?"
"Evening, my dear. They are at supper. Are not you hungry?"
"Oh, yes, I believe I am;" but as she was about to wash her hands:
"My rings, my wedding-ring? Look in my glove!"
"No, they are not there my dear, they must have robbed you! And oh!
Aurelia, what have you done to your hair?"
"My hair? It was all there this morning. Sister, it was that woman,
I remember now, I was not quite sound asleep, but I had no power to
move or cry out, and the woman was snipping and Loveday crying."
"Vile creature!" burst out Betty.
"My hair will grow!" said Aurelia; "but I had so guarded my wedding-
ring--and what will he, Sir Amyas, think?"
Their voices were at this moment heard, and in another second Aurelia
was held against her father's breast, as in broken words he sobbed out
thanks for her restoration, and implored her pardon for having trusted
her out of his care.
"Oh! sir, do not speak so! Dear papa, I have tried hard to do you no
harm, and to behave well. Please, sir, give me your blessing."
"God bless you indeed, my child. He has blessed you in guarding you as
your innocence deserved, though I did not. Ah! others are impatient.
The poor old father comes second now."
After a few minutes spent in repairing the disorder of her dress, and
her hands in those of her father and little brother, she was led to
the outer room where in the twilight there was a rapturous rush, an
embrace, a fondling of the hand in the manner more familiar to her
than the figure from before whom it proceeded. She only said in her
gentle plaintive tone, "Oh, sir, it was not my fault. They took
away your rings."
"Nay," said a voice, new to her, "here are your rings, Lady Belamour.
I must trust to your Christian charity to pardon her who caused you
to be stripped of them."
The name of Lady Belamour made her start as that of her enemy, but a
truly familiar tone said, "You need not fear, my kind friend. This
is Mr. Wayland, who, to our great joy, has returned, and has come to
restore your jewels."
"Indeed I am very glad yours is not lost," said Aurelia, not a little
bewildered.
Mr. Wayland said a few words of explanation that his wife's agent at
Greenwich had brought them back to her.
"Pray let me have them," entreated Sir Amyas; "I must put them on
again!"
"Stay," said Major Delavie; "I can have such things done only under
true colours and in the full light of day. The child is scarcely
awake yet, and does not know one from the other! Why neither of you
so much as know the colour of the eyes of the other! Can you tell
me sir?"
"Heavenly," exclaimed the youth, in an ecstatic tone of self-defence,
which set the Major laughing and saying, "My silly maid knows as
little which gentleman put on the ring."
"I do, sir," said Aurelia indignantly; "I know his voice and hand
quite well," and in the impulse she quitted her father's arm and
put both hands into those of her young adorer, saying, "Pray sir,
pardon me, I never thought to hurt you so cruelly."
There was a cry of, "My own, my dearest life," and she was clasped as
she had been immediately after her strange wedding.
However, the sound of a servant's step made them separate instantly,
and Betty begged that the supper might not be removed, since it was
many hours since her sister had tasted food.
Sir Amyas and Betty hovered about her, giving her whatever she could
need, in the partial light, while the others stood apart, exchanging
such explanations as they could. Mr. Wayland said he must report
himself to Government on the morrow; but intended afterwards to take
his wife to Bowstead, whither she had sent all her children with Mrs.
Dove. There was a great tenderness in his tone as he spoke of her,
and when he took leave Mr. Belamour shrugged his shoulders saying,
"She will come round him again!"
"It is true enough that he ought not to have left her to herself,"
said the Major.
"You making excuses for her after the diabolical plot of to-day?"
said Mr. Belamour; "I could forgive her all but that letter to you."
"My Lady loves her will," quoted the Major; "it amounts to insanity
in some women, I believe."
"So I might say does men's infatuation towards women like her,"
muttered Mr. Belamour.
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