Book: Night and Morning, Volume 4

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Night and Morning, Volume 4




"Charles," said Mr. Spencer, as the boat, which the young man rowed,
bounded over the water towards their quiet home; "Charles, I dislike
these Beauforts!"

"Not the daughter?"

"No, she is beautiful, and seems good; not so handsome as your poor
mother, but who ever was?"--here Mr. Spencer sighed, and repeated some
lines from Shenstone.

"Do you think Mr. Beaufort suspects in the least who I am?"

"Why, that puzzles me; I rather think he does."

"And that is the cause of the delay? I knew it."

"No, on the contrary, I incline to think he has some kindly feeling to
you, though not to your brother, and that it is such a feeling that made
him consent to your marriage. He sifted me very closely as to what I
knew of the young Mortons--observed that you were very handsome, and that
he had fancied at first that he had seen you before."

"Indeed !"

"Yes: and looked hard at me while he spoke; and said more than once,
significantly, 'So his name is Charles?' He talked about some attempt at
imposture and litigation, but that was, evidently, merely invented to
sound me about your brother--whom, of course, he spoke ill of--impressing
on me three or four times that he would never have anything to say to any
of the family while Philip lived."

"And you told him," said the young man, hesitatingly, and with a deep
blush of shame over his face, "that you were persuaded--that is, that you
believed Philip was--was--"

"Was dead! Yes--and without confusion. For the more I reflect, the more
I think he must be dead. At all events, you may be sure that he is dead
to us, that we shall never hear more of him."

"Poor Philip!"

"Your feelings are natural; they are worthy of your excellent heart; but
remember, what would have become of you if you had stayed with him!"

"True!" said the brother, with a slight shudder--"a career of
suffering--crime--perhaps the gibbet! Ah! what do I owe you?"

The dinner-party at Mr. Beaufort's that day was constrained and formal,
though the host, in unusual good humour, sought to make himself
agreeable. Mrs. Beaufort, languid and afflicted with headache, said
little. The two Spencers were yet more silent. But the younger sat next
to her he loved; and both hearts were full: and in the evening they
contrived to creep apart into a corner by the window, through which the
starry heavens looked kindly on them. They conversed in whispers, with
long pauses between each: and at times Camilla's tears flowed silently
down her cheeks, and were followed by the false smiles intended to cheer
her lover.

Time did not fly, but crept on breathlessly and heavily. And then came
the last parting--formal, cold--before witnesses. But the lover could
not restrain his emotion, and the hard father heard his suppressed sob as
he closed the door.

It will now be well to explain the cause of Mr. Beaufort's heightened
spirits, and the motives of his conduct with respect to his daughter's
suitor.

This, perhaps, can be best done by laying before the reader the following
letters that passed between Mr. Beaufort and Lord Lilburne.


From LORD LILBURNE to ROBERT BEAUFORT, ESQ., M.P.

"DEAR BEAUFORT,--I think I have settled, pretty satisfactorily, your
affair with your unwelcome visitor. The first thing it seemed to me
necessary to do, was to learn exactly what and who he was, and with what
parties that could annoy you he held intercourse. I sent for Sharp, the
Bow Street officer, and placed him in the hall to mark, and afterwards to
dog and keep watch on your new friend. The moment the latter entered I
saw at once, from his dress and his address, that he was a 'scamp;' and
thought it highly inexpedient to place you in his power by any money
transactions. While talking with him, Sharp sent in a billet containing
his recognition of our gentleman as a transported convict.

"I acted accordingly; soon saw, from the fellow's manner, that he had
returned before his time; and sent him away with a promise, which you may
be sure he believes will be kept, that if he molest you farther, he shall
return to the colonies, and that if his lawsuit proceed, his witness or
witnesses shall be indicted for conspiracy and perjury. Make your mind
easy so far. For the rest, I own to you that I think what he says
probable enough: but my object in setting Sharp to watch him is to learn
what other parties he sees. And if there be really anything formidable
in his proofs or witnesses, it is with those other parties I advise you
to deal. Never transact business with the go between, if you can with
the principal. Remember, the two young men are the persons to arrange
with after all. They must be poor, and therefore easily dealt with.
For, if poor, they will think a bird in the hand worth two in the bush of
a lawsuit.

"If, through Mr. Spencer, you can learn anything of either of the young
men, do so; and try and open some channel, through which you can always
establish a communication with them, if necessary. Perhaps, by learning
their early history, you may learn something to put them into your power.

"I have had a twinge of the gout this morning, and am likely, I fear, to
be laid up for some weeks.

"Yours truly,

"LILBURNE.

"P.S.--Sharp has just been here. He followed the man who calls himself
'Captain Smith' to a house in Lambeth, where he lodges, and from which he
did not stir till midnight, when Sharp ceased his watch. On renewing it
this morning, he found that the captain had gone off, to what place Sharp
has not yet discovered.

"Burn this immediately."


From ROBERT BEAUFORT, ESQ., M.P., to the LORD LILBURNE.

"DEAR, LILBURNE,--Accept my warmest thanks for your kindness; you have
done admirably, and I do not see that I have anything further to
apprehend. I suspect that it was an entire fabrication on that man's
part, and your firmness has foiled his wicked designs. Only think, I
have discovered--I am sure of it--one of the Mortons; and he, too, though
the younger, yet, in all probability, the sole pretender the fellow could
set up. You remember that the child Sidney had disappeared
mysteriously,--you remember also, how much that Mr. Spencer had
interested himself in finding out the same Sidney. Well,--this gentleman
at the Lakes is, as we suspected, the identical Mr. Spencer, and his soi-
disant nephew, Camilla's suitor, is assuredly no other than the lost
Sidney. The moment I saw the young man I recognised him, for he is very
little altered, and has a great look of his mother into the bargain.
Concealing my more than suspicions, I, however, took care to sound Mr.
Spencer (a very poor soul), and his manner was so embarrassed as to leave
no doubt of the matter; but in asking him what he had heard of the
brothers, I had the satisfaction of learning that, in all human
probability, the elder is dead: of this Mr. Spencer seems convinced.
I also assured myself that neither Spencer nor the young man had the
remotest connection with our Captain Smith, nor any idea of litigation.
This is very satisfactory, you will allow. And now, I hope you will
approve of what I have done. I find that young Morton, or Spencer, as he
is called, is desperately enamoured of Camilla; he seems a meek, well-
conditioned, amiable young man; writes poetry;--in short, rather weak
than otherwise. I have demanded a year's delay, to allow mutual trial
and reflection. This gives us the channel for constant information which
you advise me to establish, and I shall have the opportunity to learn if
the impostor makes any communication to them, or if there be any news of
the brother. If by any trick or chicanery (for I will never believe that
there was a marriage) a lawsuit that might be critical or hazardous can
be cooked up, I can, I am sure, make such terms with Sidney, through his
love for my daughter, as would effectively and permanently secure me from
all further trouble and machinations in regard to my property. And if,
during the year, we convince ourselves that, after all, there is not a
leg of law for any claimant to stand on, I may be guided by other
circumstances how far I shall finally accept or reject the suit. That
must depend on any other views we may then form for Camilla; and I shall
not allow a hint of such an engagement to get abroad. At the worst, as
Mr. Spencer's heir, it is not so very bad a match, seeing that they
dispense with all marriage portion, &c.--a proof how easily they can be
managed. I have not let Mr. Spencer see that I have discovered his
secret--I can do that or not, according to circumstances hereafter;
neither have I said anything of my discovery to Mrs. B., or Camilla. At
present, 'Least said soonest mended.' I heard from Arthur to-day. He is
on his road home, and we hasten to town, sooner than we expected, to meet
him. He complains still of his health. We shall all go down to Beaufort
Court. I write this at night, the pretended uncle and sham nephew having
just gone. But though we start to-morrow, you will get this a day or two
before we arrive, as Mrs. Beaufort's health renders short stages
necessary. I really do hope that Arthur, also, will not be an invalid,
poor fellow! one in a family is quite enough; and I find Mrs. Beaufort's
delicacy very inconvenient, especially in moving about and in keeping up
one's county connexions. A young man's health, however, is soon
restored. I am very sorry to hear of your gout, except that it carries
off all other complaints. I am very well, thank Heaven; indeed, my
health has been much better of late years: Beaufort Court agrees with me
so well! The more I reflect, the more I am astonished at the monstrous
and wicked impudence of that fellow--to defraud a man out of his own
property! You are quite right,--certainly a conspiracy.

"Yours truly,

"R. B."

"P. S.--I shall keep a constant eye on the Spencers.

"Burn this immediately."


After he had written and sealed this letter, Mr. Beaufort went to bed and
slept soundly.

And the next day that place was desolate, and the board on the lawn
announced that it was again to be let. But thither daily, in rain or
sunshine, came the solitary lover, as a bird that seeks its young in the
deserted nest:--Again and again he haunted the spot where he had strayed
with the lost one,--and again and again murmured his passionate vows
beneath the fast-fading limes. Are those vows destined to be ratified or
annulled? Will the absent forget, or the lingerer be consoled? Had the
characters of that young romance been lightly stamped on the fancy where
once obliterated they are erased for ever,--or were they graven deep in
those tablets where the writing, even when invisible, exists still, and
revives, sweet letter by letter, when the light and the warmth borrowed
from the One Bright Presence are applied to the faithful record? There
is but one Wizard to disclose that secret, as all others,--the old Grave-
digger, whose Churchyard is the Earth,--whose trade is to find burial-
places for Passions that seemed immortal,--disinterring the ashes of some
long-crumbling Memory--to hollow out the dark bed of some new-perished
Hope:--He who determines all things, and prophesies none,--for his
oracles are uncomprehended till the doom is sealed--He who in the bloom
of the fairest affection detects the hectic that consumes it, and while
the hymn rings at the altar, marks with his joyless eye the grave for the
bridal vow.--Wherever is the sepulchre, there is thy temple, O melancholy
Time!

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