Miles Tremenhere Volume I Part 7

"Of 'impostor,' and 'base-born hound!'"

"Do you call it a n.o.ble act, to enter, as you have done this evening here, with the connivance of that traitress, and play eavesdropper?"

cried Marmaduke, endeavouring to evade the demand of _retraction_ of his tongue's hasty aspersion.

"Tis false, that too!" answered Miles. "I followed this girl, 'tis true; I feared she might be again led to attempt suicide,--I saw her enter by the shrubbery gate,--strangely enough, I, too, had purposed visiting you this night by that entrance, to which I also have a key," (he held one up as he spoke,) "mine, since when we often entered thereby together, cousin Marmaduke. But I had intended my visit to have been made some hours later, deeming that possibly the hospitable lord of the manor-house might keep open house for his numerous friends, whose pleasures I would not have interrupted for worlds. My business is of a private nature; but, as she entered, I followed, and, knowing all the intricacies of the old place, why, I came by the private stair to the adjoining rooms; these rooms were mine!"

The man's voice slightly trembled as he uttered these words; for, in looking round, his eye rested on the old mandolin; it awakened a chord in his heart, not like its own--broken. Marmaduke perceived this emotion, and deemed it an advantage gained, not having seen whence arose that softened tone; but Mary had seen, and her eye following his, the tears gathered in a heavy cloud over her vision, as she looked up to the thing to which she had often danced, a light-hearted child; for her heart was now as powerless of joy as the mandolin of tone; error and death had worked their will in stilling both.

"I should like much to know why you are here? why you purposed coming?"

inquired Marmaduke, gaining courage.

"Before I reply to that," answered Miles, himself once more, "I must have retraction. I tell you so; so let it be quickly done, for she heard it,--to her you shall unsay it, and then our interview must be alone."

"I will not leave you, Miles," uttered the girl, clasping his hand, which hung down, as she crept beside him; but he neither heard nor saw her.

"When I came to this neighbourhood again," said Miles, "it was not to seek you; it was for one reason only--to visit in peace some old haunts, old friends. I yet have a few left--on all, I found _your_ hand. He who knew me from childhood, my father's respected tenant, you have striven to drive forth--and, look there," he pointed to Mary; "this is your work too, cowardly villain, to war with a woman, and urge her to destruction by goading her to madness with falsehood and calumny; but this must pa.s.s awhile. First you shall clear from your lip by retraction the words you have said of my sainted mother; your act has, _for awhile_--mind I say only _for awhile_--cast a slur upon her fame; but the lion only slumbers, cousin Marmaduke--he will awake soon. But this night was the first time you ever, in my hearing, uttered the words to blast her; indeed, until to-night you have kept hidden from my vengeance. When you commenced your worthy suit against me, after the first day you left others to complete it, and fled, hidden like a reptile in sunlight,--you came forth at night to spread your venom around; but for all that, a day of retribution will come, only for to-night, I demand retraction."

Marmaduke felt chilled: there was something fearful in Miles's resolute calmness.

"If," he said, yet not daring to look up, "you will go and take that woman in peace (for I would not have it known, for many reasons, that _she_ had been here,) I will say this, that I ought perhaps not to have spoken before her of family affairs."

"Man!" cried Miles, in a voice of thunder, "say all was a lie, an invention; it will not take your devil-bought position here from you, but retract every word _you shall_!"

"Hus.h.!.+" whispered Marmaduke, as the other strode towards him, putting up his hands to ward off his coming; "hus.h.!.+ some one may hear us, and report this visit."

"Whom does he fear?" asked Miles, turning to Mary.

"He fears lest Miss Dalzell should be informed, probably," uttered the shrinking woman.

"Miss Dalzell!" cried Miles, awakening as from a dream; "she will _never_ become the wife of this man; it would be profaning a creature stainless as the created day, before man made it blush for his sin; or looks and words only rank as liars."

Marmaduke glared on him, but durst not speak; he was awed by his cousin's sternness.

"Speak!" commanded Miles again impatiently; "I have yet a task to perform before we part, so hasten this; she must not see the rest. Come, man!" he uttered contemptuously, as the other visibly trembled, "speak the words: I promise you, reckless as _I_ am of life, I have no purpose of taking yours, _if you speak_." There was that about him which terrified the other; it was the first time they had met out of court since the suit.

"I spoke hastily, angrily," stammered Marmaduke at last, his eyes bent on the ground, one of his hands nervously turning a letter on the table, the other in his bosom; "but this woman goaded me to it."

"'Tis well," uttered Miles scornfully, "well done, to accuse another to s.h.i.+eld our own fault. You know my mother to have been pure as ever woman was, only the _law_ wanted proof."

"I believe she was a good woman," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the other, fearing some snare before witnesses.

"Fellow," cried Miles, seeing his hesitation, "I am not here to catch you in your words: you have calumniated, you shall restore; you have lied, you shall unlie. Do you not know in your heart that, though proof be wanting, my mother was a wife?" He made a movement towards where his cousin stood.

"I believe it," fell from the lips of the awed coward; "but you know the law will have----"

"Enough!" exclaimed Miles, waving his hand contemptuously. "I have devoted my life, with all its energies, to prove her to have been such, not for the sake of the land and tenements around us, but to rebuild in splendour an angel's darkened fame. Now, Mary, you have heard his retraction, leave us awhile, I will rejoin you before you have quitted the grounds."

"Let me stay, I beseech you, Miles," she whispered, her frame trembling with fear as he approached to put her forth.

"There can be no secrets she may not hear," hazarded Marmaduke, in terror himself at the idea of being alone with Miles. All the fear he had experienced as a boy of the other, when as children they quarrelled, stood before him, for Miles was of strong build, and great stature; he seemed to tower above his cousin, though actually less in height. A strange expression pa.s.sed over Miles's face, as he looked from the one to the other.

"Well," he said, and a grim smile stole across his lip, and then disappeared--a mere phantom--"perhaps it is just it should be so. The man who honourably offends us, we meet in honourable fight; the cur which, coward like, yelps at and tears our heels, what does it deserve?

A cur's chastis.e.m.e.nt," he added, not waiting for a reply. Before Marmaduke had time to think, or the woman had time to rush between them, Miles seized him by the collar, and at the same moment, drawing a thickly knotted whip from his pocket, with all the force of his vigorous arm, he applied the lash over the other's shoulders. Mary shrieked in terror, and sunk fainting on her chair.

"Howl like a hound in your craven fear!" shouted Miles, as his cousin groaned and writhed beneath the lash, helpless in that strong hand.

"Come Mary, girl, look up; this is for your wrong, a coward's act--a cur's punishment. There," he continued, flinging him almost lifeless from him at last, and panting himself with the effort. "You'll remember the first meeting with Miles Tremenhere;--one thing more," he took down his mother's mandolin from its place. "Poor, senseless thing," he said, "yet speaking words of love to me, you have been made to look on desecrating words, deeds, and thoughts, in this man's presence. You have lost your purity, like all of us, since _she_ left you!" In his bitterness he forgot the suffering woman, who was weeping bitterly beside him. "Desecrated no more, speechless henceforth, and mute to all of the ruin around you!" he put the thing, which seemed as a breathing creature to him, beneath his foot, and with one stamp of his heel it flew into pieces. Crash after crash succeeded, until only a ma.s.s lay without shape on the floor. Marmaduke was speechless with terror and pain.

"Come Mary, my girl, look up now!" said Miles, kindly taking her hand.

"I have avenged you as well as I can; he will not forget us--come!"

And, almost carrying the terror-stricken girl, he pa.s.sed out by the corridor, carefully locking the door on the other side, to avoid interruption, and so he quitted his own halls.

CHAPTER VIII.

Minnie had been so severely lectured by all, about her too frequent visits to the cottage of Mary Burns, and other rambles in thoughtful loneliness, that she felt embarra.s.sed how to act. We have seen Dora was not yet wholly in her confidence; there was as yet a barrier of three years' width between them, which she hesitated at overleaping at once--it was one separating girlhood from womanhood. She had no one to consult but herself, and in her great anxiety to know what had been decided upon for this poor girl, in whom she felt so much interest, as Mr. Skaife had informed her, that a.s.suredly Tremenhere would decide immediately something about her, she resolved to rise with the early bird of morn, which rose to song and heaven beneath her windows, and seek Mary's cottage. Only the gardener was at work, as she brushed the dew off the smoothly turfed lawn, at six the morning, after Tremenhere's meeting with his cousin, and bidding the man a kind good-morning, she hastened through the shrubbery, then light as a fawn skimmed over the path-fields, and reached Mary's cottage. The shutters were closed, and all in stillness; but the hour was so early, that she hesitated about awakening the inmates. For some moments she stood irresolute, and walked round the spot. There is something in internal desolation, which always leaves an outward trace on the features, as on an abode.

Something of this she felt; and at last gently rapped at the door--all was silent; then she repeated it--and each time with the like result.

There was a latch, so she raised it, looked in, and then the cold truth became apparent; the place was tenantless!--all gone, and not a vestige left. Minnie stood in mute astonishment. How should she be enabled to discover the girl's fate?--from Mr. Skaife, perhaps; and then a chill came over her warm heart. Had this girl, whom she had so befriended, quitted without one word to express grat.i.tude, or resolution of well-doing? and then, a something crossed her mind of regret. She should have liked to see Miles Tremenhere once more; he was so manly under his persecution by Marmaduke Burton. It is painful in our path through life to have that path crossed by a vision which flits away, only leaving a trace, and never again seen--such things often leave a memory for years.

Minnie walked sadly home. It is something very undeceiving to the young heart--it's first lesson in worldly selfishness and ingrat.i.tude. She felt Mary must be an ungrateful girl so to depart; and, thinking all this, she walked up to her own room. No one had discovered her departure; and an hour afterwards she descended to the breakfast parlour, which looked over the beautiful lawn and flower-garden, and there she found all the family waiting, except Lady Ripley, who always breakfasted in her own room. The day pa.s.sed in busy occupations to all, yet amidst all she felt a chill at heart--the chill of disappointed confidence. Many neighbouring families called to pay homage to Lady Ripley; and the report was brought by more than one, that Mr. Burton was seriously indisposed, and hints were thrown out of a hostile meeting having taken place between the cousins, as it was known that desperate character, (alas! for those no longer Fortune's favourites,) Miles Tremenhere, had been seen in the neighbourhood.

"It must have been late yesterday, then, if they met," said Juvenal, "for Burton was here in the afternoon."

"It is not known when it took place, but he has been confined to his bed all day, and his lawyer, Dalby, sent for. Though Mr. Burton denies it himself, there is every reason to suppose 'tis true," rejoined the visiter.

"Some means of ascertaining the fact should be resorted to, and such a character banished the neighbourhood," said Sylvia, acrimoniously; "it is a natural consequence of an ill-conducted mother, that the child should be infamous."

"Oh, aunt!" cried Minnie, "don't say such a wicked thing; for all say Mrs. Tremenhere was good, and mild!"

"Besides," said the peacemaker, Dorcas, "you should give her the benefit of the doubt; many believe her to have been married, though proof was wanting."

"Always my good, charitable aunt," whispered Minnie, taking her hand affectionately.

"Ah! Lady Dora," exclaimed the visiter, rising as the other entered, "I am charmed to see you here once more, and looking so lovely; and her ladys.h.i.+p, too," continued the old dame, as Lady Ripley sailed into the room after her daughter, "you are really as a sister, in appearance, to your beautiful child!"

This is one of the most pleasing compliments in the world to a mamma with a grown-up daughter,--it deadens the sound of Time's wheels, as he hurries his chariot onwards,--it is like laying down tan over that rugged road of matronism, which has an ugly stage beyond, beginning with "grand,"--Lady Ripley graciously received the compliment, and, smiling blandly, slid into a corner of the sofa whereon the visiter sat. "There always has been considered a great likeness existing between us," said the Countess; "we were painted in full length in one picture at Florence, and the likeness has been considered remarkable, by all visiting Loughton Castle, whither I sent it. By the way, Dora, what was the name of the artist, a very promising young man, whom I patronised at the request of Lord Randolph Gray, who had taken him by the hand? I always forget names."

"Mamma, you should remember that," answered Lady Dora, and a slight colour pa.s.sed over her cheek; yet soon fled abashed before the stern, proud eye, it was only momentary; "for we had a neighbour here, near my aunt's, of the same name--Tremenhere."

"Tremenhere!" cried several simultaneously; but Minnie's struck most forcibly on Lady Dora's ear; she turned towards her, and, looking fixedly upon her, said, "Do _you_ know Mr. Tremenhere, Minnie?"

"Only since yesterday," answered she; "but before then I had learned to pity him, but we cannot mean the same person: I do not think Mr.

Tremenhere is an artist."

"How can you tell what he may, or may not be?" said Juvenal, crossly; "I'm sure, after his unnatural conduct towards his cousin, you should wonder at nothing."