Book: My Novel, Volume 8.

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> My Novel, Volume 8.




"Why naturally?" asked Egerton.

"Because you know that Mr. Hazeldean is a relation of mine,--that my
grandmother was a Hazeldean."

"Ah!" said Egerton, who, as it has been before said, knew little and
cared less about the Hazeldean pedigree, "I was either not aware of that
circumstance, or had forgotten it. And your father thinks that the
squire may leave you a legacy?"

"Oh, sir, my father is not so mercenary,--such an idea never entered his
head. But the squire himself has indeed said, 'Why, if anything happened
to Frank, you would be next heir to my lands, and therefore we ought to
know each other.' But--"

"Enough," interrupted Egerton. "I am the last man to pretend to the
right of standing between you and a single chance of fortune, or of aid
to it. And whom did you meet at Hazeldean?"

"There was no one there, sir; not even Frank."

"Hum. Is the squire not on good terms with his parson? Any quarrel
about tithes?"

"Oh, no quarrel. I forgot Mr. Dale; I saw him pretty often. He admires
and praises you very much, sir."

"Me--and why? What did he say of me?"

"That your heart was as sound as your head; that he had once seen you
about some old parishioners of his, and that he had been much impressed
with the depth of feeling he could not have anticipated in a man of the
world, and a statesman."

"Oh, that was all; some affair when I was member for Lansmere?"

"I suppose so."

Here the conversation had broken off; but the next time Randal was led to
visit the squire he had formally asked Egerton's consent, who, after a
moment's hesitation, had as formally replied, "I have no objection."

On returning from this visit, Randal mentioned that he had seen
Riccabocca: and Egerton, a little startled at first, said composedly,
"Doubtless one of the political refugees; take care not to set Madame di
Negra on his track. Remember, she is suspected of being a spy of the
Austrian government."

"Rely on me, sir," said Randal; "but I should think this poor doctor can
scarcely be the person she seeks to discover."

"That is no affair of ours," answered Egerton: "we are English gentlemen,
and make not a step towards the secrets of another."

Now, when Randal revolved this rather ambiguous answer, and recalled the
uneasiness with which Egerton had first heard of his visit to Hazeldean,
he thought that he was indeed near the secret which Egerton desired to
conceal from him and from all,--namely, the incognito of the Italian whom
Lord L'Estrange had taken under his protection.

"My cards," said Randal to himself, as with a deep-drawn sigh he resumed
his soliloquy, "are become difficult to play. On the one hand, to
entangle Frank into marriage with this foreigner, the squire could never
forgive him. On the other hand, if she will not marry him without the
dowry--and that depends on her brother's wedding this countrywoman--and
that countrywoman be, as I surmise, Violante, and Violante be this
heiress, and to be won by me! Tush, tush. Such delicate scruples in a
woman so placed and so constituted as Beatrice di Negra must be easily
talked away. Nay, the loss itself of this alliance to her brother, the
loss of her own dowry, the very pressure of poverty and debt, would
compel her into the sole escape left to her option. I will then follow
up the old plan; I will go down to Hazeldean, and see if there be any
substance in the new one; and then to reconcile both. Aha--the House of
Leslie shall rise yet from its ruin--and--"

Here he was startled from his revery by a friendly slap on the shoulder,
and an exclamation, "Why, Randal, you are more absent than when you used
to steal away from the cricket-ground, muttering Greek verses, at Eton."

"My dear Frank," said Randal, "you--you are so brusque, and I was just
thinking of you."

"Were you? And kindly, then, I am sure," said Frank Hazeldean, his
honest handsome face lighted up with the unsuspecting genial trust of
friendship; "and Heaven knows," he added, with a sadder voice, and a
graver expression on his eye and lip,--"Heaven knows I want all the
kindness you can give me!"

"I thought," said Randal, "that your father's last supply, of which I was
fortunate enough to be the bearer, would clear off your more pressing
debts. I don't pretend to preach, but really, I must say once more, you
should not be so extravagant."

FRANK (seriously).--"I have done my best to reform. I have sold off my
horses, and I have not touched dice nor card these six months; I would
not even put into the raffle for the last Derby." This last was said
with the air of a man who doubted the possibility of obtaining belief to
some assertion of preternatural abstinence and virtue.

RANDAL.--"Is it possible? But with such self-conquest, how is it that
you cannot contrive to live within the bounds of a very liberal
allowance?"

FRANK (despondingly).--"Why, when a man once gets his head under water,
it is so hard to float back again on the surface. You see, I attribute
all my embarrassments to that first concealment of my debts from my
father, when they could have been so easily met, and when be came up to
town so kindly."

"I am sorry, then, that I gave you that advice."

"Oh, you meant it so kindly, I don't reproach you; it was all my own
fault."

"Why, indeed, I did urge you to pay off that moiety of your debts left
unpaid, with your allowance. Had you done so, all had been well."

"Yes; but poor Borrowell got into such a scrape at Goodwood, I could not
resist him; a debt of honour,--that must be paid; so when I signed
another bill for him, he could not pay it, poor fellow! Really he would
have shot himself, if I had not renewed it. And now it is swelled to
such an amount with that cursed interest, that he never can pay it; and
one bill, of course, begets another,--and to be renewed every three
months; 't is the devil and all! So little as I ever got for all I have
borrowed," added Frank, with a kind of rueful amaze. "Not L1,500 ready
money; and the interest would cost me almost as much yearly,--if I had
it." "Only L1,500!"

"Well; besides seven large chests of the worst cigars you ever smoked,
three pipes of wine that no one would drink, and a great bear that had
been imported from Greenland for the sake of its grease."

"That should, at least, have saved you a bill with your hairdresser."

"I paid his bill with it," said Frank, "and very good-natured he was to
take the monster off my hands,--it had already hugged two soldiers and
one groom into the shape of a flounder. I tell you what," resumed Frank,
after a short pause, "I have a great mind even now to tell my father
honestly all my embarrassments."

RANDAL (solemnly).--"Hum!"

FRANK.--" What? don't you think it would be the best way? I never can
save enough,--never can pay off what I owe; and it rolls like a
snowball."

RANDAL.--"Judging by the squire's talk, I think that with the first sight
of your affairs you would forfeit his favour forever; and your mother
would be so shocked, especially after supposing that the sum I brought
you so lately sufficed to pay off every claim on you. If you had not
assured her of that it might be different; but she, who so hates an
untruth, and who said to the squire, 'Frank says this will clear him; and
with all his faults, Frank never yet told a lie!'"

"Oh, my dear mother!--I fancy I hear her!" cried Frank, with deep
emotion. "But I did not tell a lie, Randal; I did not say that that sum
would clear me."

"You empowered and begged me to say so," replied Randal, with grave
coldness; "and don't blame me if I believed you."

"No, no! I only said it would clear me for the moment."

"I misunderstood you, then, sadly; and such mistakes involve my own
honour. Pardon me, Frank; don't ask my aid in future. You see, with the
best intentions, I only compromise myself."

"If you forsake me, I may as well go and throw myself into the river,"
said Frank, in a tone of despair; "and sooner or later, my father must
know my necessities. The Jews threaten to go to him already; and the
longer the delay, the more terrible the explanation."

"I don't see why your father should ever learn the state of your affairs;
and it seems to me that you could pay off these usurers, and get rid of
these bills, by raising money on comparatively easy terms--"

"How?" cried Frank, eagerly.

"Why, the Casino property is entailed on you, and you might obtain a sum
upon that, not to be paid till the property becomes yours."

"At my poor father's death? Oh, no, no! I cannot bear the idea of this
cold-blooded calculation on a father's death. I know it is not uncommon;
I know other fellows who have done it, but they never had parents so kind
as mine; and even in them it shocked and revolted me. The contemplating
a father's death, and profiting by the contemplation it seems a kind of
parricide: it is not natural, Randal. Besides, don't you remember what
the Governor said,--he actually wept while he said it,--'Never calculate
on my death; I could not bear that.' Oh, Randal, don't speak of it!"

"I respect your sentiments; but still, all the post-orbits you could
raise could not shorten Mr. Hazeldean's life by a day. However, dismiss
that idea; we must think of some other device. Ha, Frank! you are a
handsome fellow, and your expectations are great--why don't you marry
some woman with money?"

"Pooh!" exclaimed Frank, colouring. "You know, Randal, that there is but
one woman in the world I can ever think of; and I love her so devotedly,
that, though I was as gay as most men before, I really feel as if the
rest of her sex had lost every charm. I was passing through the street
now--merely to look up at her windows."

"You speak of Madame di Negra? I have just left her. Certainly, she is
two or three years older than you; but if you can get over that
misfortune, why not marry her?"

"Marry her!" cried Frank, in amaze, and all his colour fled from his
cheeks. "Marry her! Are you serious?"

"Why not?"

"But even if she, who is so accomplished, so admired, even if she would
accept me, she is, you know, poorer than myself. She has told me so
frankly. That woman has such a noble heart,--and--and--my father would
never consent, nor my mother either. I know they would not."

"Because she is a foreigner?"

"Yes--partly."

"Yet the squire suffered his cousin to marry a foreigner."

"That was different. He had no control over Jemima; and a daughter-in-
law is so different; and my father is so English in his notions; and
Madame di Negra, you see, is altogether so foreign. Her very graces
would be against her in his eyes."

"I think you do both your parents injustice. A foreigner of low birth--
an actress or singer, for instance--of course would be highly
objectionable; but a woman like Madame di Negra, of such high birth and
connections--"

Frank shook his head. "I don't think the Governor would care a straw
about her connections, if she were a king's daughter. He considers all
foreigners pretty much alike. And then, you know" (Frank's voice sank
into a whisper),--"you know that one of the very reasons why she is so
dear to me would be an insuperable objection to the old-fashioned folks
at home."

"I don't understand you, Frank."

"I love her the more," said young Hazeldean, raising his front with a
noble pride, that seemed to speak of his descent from a race of cavaliers
and gentlemen,--"I love her the more because the world has slandered her
name,--because I believe her to be pure and wronged. But would they at
the Hall,--they who do not see with a lover's eyes, they who have all the
stubborn English notions about the indecorum and license of Continental
manners, and will so readily credit the worst? Oh, no! I love, I cannot
help it--but I have no hope."

"It is very possible that you may be right," exclaimed Randal, as if
struck and half convinced by his companion's argument,--"very possible;
and certainly I think that the homely folks at the Hall would fret and
fume at first, if they heard you were married to Madame di Negra. Yet
still, when your father learned that you had done so, not from passion
alone, but to save him from all pecuniary sacrifice,--to clear yourself
of debt, to--"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Frank, impatiently.

"I have reason to know that Madame di Negra will have as large a portion
as your father could reasonably expect you to receive with any English
wife. And when this is properly stated to the squire, and the high
position and rank of your wife fully established and brought home to
him,--for I must think that these would tell, despite your exaggerated
notions of his prejudices,--and then, when he really sees Madame di
Negra, and can judge of her beauty and rare gifts, upon my word, I think,
Frank, that there would be no cause for fear. After all, too, you are
his only son. He will have no option but to forgive you; and I know how
auxiously both your parents wish to see you settled in life."

Frank's whole countenance became illuminated. "There is no one who
understands the squire like you, certainly," said he, with lively joy.
"He has the highest opinion of your judgment. And you really believe you
could smooth matters?"

"I believe so; but I should be sorry to induce you to run any risk; and
if, on cool consideration, you think that risk is incurred, I strongly
advise you to avoid all occasion of seeing the poor marchesa. Ah, you
wince; but I say it for her sake as well as your own. First, you must be
aware, that, unless you have serious thoughts of marriage, your
attentions can but add to the very rumours that, equally groundless, you
so feelingly resent; and, secondly, because I don't think any man has a
right to win the affections of a woman--especially a woman who seems to
me likely to love with her whole heart and soul--merely to gratify his
own vanity."

"Vanity! Good heavens! can you think so poorly of me? But as to the
marchesa's affections," continued Frank, with a faltering voice, "do you
really and honestly believe that they are to be won by me?"

"I fear lest they may be half won already," said Randal, with a smile and
a shake of the head; "but she is too proud to let you see any effect you
may produce on her, especially when, as I take it for granted, you have
never hinted at the hope of obtaining her hand."

"I never till now conceived such a hope. My dear Randal, all my cares
have vanished! I tread upon air! I have a great mind to call on her at
once."

"Stay, stay," said Randal. "Let me give you a caution. I have just
informed you that Madame di Negra will have, what you suspected not
before, a fortune suitable to her birth. Any abrupt change in your
manner at present might induce her to believe that you were influenced by
that intelligence."

"Ah!" exclaimed Frank, stopping short, as if wounded to the quick. "And
I feel guilty,--feel as if I was influenced by that intelligence. So I
am, too, when I reflect," he continued, with a naivete that was half
pathetic; "but I hope she will not be very rich; if so, I'll not call."

"Make your mind easy, it is but a portion of some twenty or thirty
thousand pounds, that would just suffice to discharge all your debts,
clear away all obstacle to your union, and in return for which you could
secure a more than adequate jointure and settlement on the Casino
property. Now I am on that head, I will be yet more communicative.
Madame di Negra has a noble heart, as you say, and told me herself, that,
until her brother on his arrival had assured her of this dowry, she would
never have consented to marry you, never crippled with her own
embarrassments the man she loves. Ah! with what delight she will hail
the thought of assisting you to win back your father's heart! But be
guarded meanwhile. And now, Frank, what say you--would it not be well if
I ran down to Hazeldean to sound your parents? It is rather inconvenient
to me, to be sure, to leave town just at present; but I would do more
than that to render you a smaller service. Yes, I'll go to Rood Hall
to-morrow, and thence to Hazeldean. I am sure your father will press me
to stay, and I shall have ample opportunities to judge of the manner in
which he would be likely to regard your marriage with Madame di Negra,--
supposing always it were properly put to him. We can then act
accordingly."

"My dear, dear Randal, how can I thank you? If ever a poor fellow like
me can serve you in return--but that's impossible."

"Why, certainly, I will never ask you to be security to a bill of mine,"
said Randal, laughing. "I practise the economy I preach."

"Ah!" said Frank, with a groan, "that is because your mind is
cultivated,--you have so many resources; and all my faults have come from
idleness. If I had had anything to do on a rainy day, I should never
have got into these scrapes."

"Oh, you will have enough to do some day managing your property. We who
have no property must find one in knowledge. Adieu, my dear Frank, I
must go home now. By the way, you have never, by chance, spoken of the
Riccaboccas to Madame di Negra."

"The Riccaboccas? No. That's well thought of. It may interest her to
know that a relation of mine has married her countryman. Very odd that I
never did mention it; but, to say truth, I really do talk so little to
her: she is so superior, and I feel positively shy with her."

"Do me the favour, Frank," said Randal, waiting patiently till this reply
ended,--for he was devising all the time what reason to give for his
request,--"never to allude to the Riccaboccas either to her or to her
brother, to whom you are sure to be presented."

"Why not allude to them?"

Randal hesitated a moment. His invention was still at fault, and, for a
wonder, he thought it the best policy to go pretty near the truth.

"Why, I will tell you. The marchesa conceals nothing from her brother,
and he is one of the few Italians who are in high favour with the
Austrian court."

"Well!"

"And I suspect that poor Dr. Riccabocca fled his country from some mad
experiment at revolution, and is still hiding from the Austrian police."

"But they can't hurt him here," said Frank, with an Englishman's dogged
inborn conviction of the sanctity of his native island. "I should like
to see an Austrian pretend to dictate to us whom to receive and whom to
reject."

"Hum--that's true and constitutional, no doubt; but Riccabocca may have
excellent reasons--and, to speak plainly, I know he has (perhaps as
affecting the safety of friends in Italy)--for preserving his incognito,
and we are bound to respect those reasons without inquiring further."

"Still I cannot think so meanly of Madame di Negra," persisted Frank
(shrewd here, though credulous elsewhere, and both from his sense of
honour), "as to suppose that she would descend to be a spy, and injure
a poor countryman of her own, who trusts to the same hospitality she
receives herself at our English hands. Oh, if I thought that, I could
not love her!" added Frank, with energy.

"Certainly you are right. But see in what a false position you would
place both her brother and herself. If they knew Riccabocca's secret,
and proclaimed it to the Austrian Government, as you say, it would be
cruel and mean; but if they knew it and concealed it, it might involve
them both in the most serious consequences. You know the Austrian policy
is proverbially so jealous and tyrannical?"

"Well, the newspapers say so, certainly."

"And, in short, your discretion can do no harm, and your indiscretion
may. Therefore, give me your word, Frank. I can't stay to argue now."

"I'll not allude to the Riccaboccas, upon my honour," answered Frank;
"still, I am sure that they would be as safe with the marchesa as with--"

"I rely on your honour," interrupted Randal, hastily, and hurried off.




CHAPTER V.

Towards the evening of the following day, Randal Leslie walked slowly
from a village in the main road (about two miles from Rood Hall), at
which he had got out of the coach. He passed through meads and
cornfields, and by the skirts of woods which had formerly belonged to his
ancestors, but had been long since alienated. He was alone amidst the
haunts of his boyhood, the scenes in which he had first invoked the grand
Spirit of Knowledge, to bid the Celestial Still One minister to the
commands of an earthly and turbulent ambi tion. He paused often in his
path, especially when the undulations of the ground gave a glimpse of the
gray church tower, or the gloomy firs that rose above the desolate wastes
of Rood.

"Here," thought Randal, with a softening eye,--"here, how often,
comparing the fertility of the lands passed away from the inheritance of
my fathers, with the forlorn wilds that are left to their mouldering
Hall,--here how often have I said to myself, 'I will rebuild the fortunes
of my House.' And straightway Toil lost its aspect of drudge, and grew
kingly, and books became as living armies to serve my thought. Again--
again O thou haughty Past, brace and strengthen me in the battle with the
Future." His pale lips writhed as he soliloquized, for his conscience
spoke to him while he thus addressed his will, and its voice was heard
more audibly in the quiet of the rural landscape, than amidst the turmoil
and din of that armed and sleepless camp which we call a city.

Doubtless, though Ambition have objects more vast and beneficent than the
restoration of a name, that in itself is high and chivalrous, and appeals
to a strong interest in the human heart. But all emotions and all ends
of a nobler character had seemed to filter themselves free from every
golden grain in passing through the mechanism of Randal's intellect, and
came forth at last into egotism clear and unalloyed. Nevertheless, it is
a strange truth that, to a man of cultivated mind, however perverted and
vicious, there are vouchsafed gleams of brighter sentiments, irregular
perceptions of moral beauty, denied to the brutal unreasoning wickedness
of uneducated villany,--which perhaps ultimately serve as his punishment,
according to the old thought of the satirist, that there is no greater
curse than to perceive virtue yet adopt vice. And as the solitary
schemer walked slowly on, and his childhood--innocent at least indeed--
came distinct before him through the halo of bygone dreams,--dreams far
purer than those from which he now rose each morning to the active world
of Man,--a profound melancholy crept over him, and suddenly he exclaimed
aloud, "Then I aspired to be renowned and great; now, how is it that, so
advanced in my career, all that seemed lofty in the end has vanished from
me, and the only means that I contemplate are those which my childhood
would have called poor and vile? Ah, is it that I then read but books,
and now my knowledge has passed onward, and men contaminate more than
books? But," he continued, in a lower voice, as if arguing with himself,
"if power is only so to be won,--and of what use is knowledge if it be
not power--does not success in life justify all things? And who prizes
the wise man if he fails?" He continued his way, but still the soft
tranquillity around rebuked him, and still his reason was dissatisfied,
as well as his conscience. There are times when Nature, like a bath of
youth, seems to restore to the jaded soul its freshness,--times from
which some men have emerged, as if reborn. The crises of life are very
silent. Suddenly the scene opened on Randal Leslie's eyes,--the bare
desert common, the dilapidated church, the old house, partially seen in
the dank dreary hollow, into which it seemed to Randal to have sunken
deeper and lowlier than when he saw it last. And on the common were some
young men playing at hockey. That old-fashioned game, now very uncommon
in England, except at schools, was still preserved in the primitive
vicinity of Rood by the young yeomen and farmers. Randal stood by the
stile and looked on, for among the players he recognized his brother
Oliver. Presently the ball was struck towards Oliver, and the group
instantly gathered round that young gentleman, and snatched him from
Randal's eye; but the elder brother heard a displeasing din, a derisive
laughter. Oliver had shrunk from the danger of the thick clubbed sticks
that plied around him, and received some stroke across the legs, for his
voice rose whining, and was drowned by shouts of, "Go to your mammy.
That's Noll Leslie all over. Butter shins!"

Randal's sallow face became scarlet. "The jest of boors--a Leslie!" he
muttered, and ground his teeth. He sprang over the stile, and walked
erect and haughtily across the ground. The players cried out
indignantly. Randal raised his hat, and they recognized him, and stopped
the game. For him at least a certain respect was felt. Oliver turned
round quickly, and ran up to him. Randal caught his arm firmly, and
without saying a word to the rest, drew him away towards the house.
Oliver cast a regretful, lingering look behind him, rubbed his shins, and
then stole a timid glance towards Randal's severe and moody countenance.

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