Cord and Creese Part 33

"I have awakened to infamy; for what is infamy if it be not this, to bear the name I bear? Something more than pride or vanity has been the foundation of that feeling of shame and hate with which I have always regarded it. And I have now died to my former life, and awakened to a new one.

"Louis Brandon, the agonies which may be suffered by those whom you seek to avenge I can conjecture but I wish never to hear. I pray G.o.d that I may never know what it might break my heart to learn. You must save them, you must also avenge them. You are strong, and you are implacable.

When you strike your blow will be crushing.

"But I must go and bear my lot among those you strike; I will wait on among them, sharing their infamy and their fate. When your blow falls I will not turn away. I will think of those dear ones of yours who have suffered, and for their sakes will accept the blow of revenge."

Brandon had held her hand in silence, and with a convulsive pressure during these words. As she stopped she made a faint effort to withdraw it. He would not let her. He raised it to his lips and pressed it there.

Three times he made an effort to speak, and each time failed. At last, with a strong exertion, he uttered, in a hoa.r.s.e voice and broken tones,

"Oh, Beatrice! Beatrice! how I love you!"

"I know it," said she, in the same monotone which she had used before--a tone of infinite mournfulness--"I have known it long, and I would say also, 'Louis Brandon, I love you,' if it were not that this would be the last infamy; that you, Brandon, of Brandon Hall, should be loved by one who bears my name."

The hours of the night pa.s.sed away. They stood watching the English sh.o.r.es, speaking little. Brandon clung to her hand. They were sailing up the Thames. It was about four in the morning.

"We shall soon be there," said he; "sing to me for the last time. Sing, and forget for a moment that we must part."

Then, in a low voice, of soft but penetrating tones, which thrilled through every fibre of Brandon's being. Beatrice began to sing:

"Love made us one: our unity Is indissoluble by act of thine, For were this mortal being ended, And our freed spirits in the world above, Love, pa.s.sing o'er the grave, would join us there, As once he joined us here: And the sad memory of the life below Would but unite as closer evermore.

No act of thine may loose Thee from the eternal bond, Nor shall Revenge have power To disunite us _there_!"

On that same day they landed in London. The Governor's lady at Sierra Leone had insisted on replenishing Beatrice's wardrobe, so that she showed no appearance of having gone through the troubles which had afflicted her on sea and sh.o.r.e.

Brandon took her to a hotel and then went to his agent's. He also examined the papers for the last four months. He read in the morning journals a notice which had already appeared of the arrival of the ship off the Nore, and the statement that three of the pa.s.sengers of the _Falcon_ had reached Sierra Leone. He communicated to the owners of the _Falcon_ the particulars of the loss of the ship, and earned their thanks, for they were able to get their insurance without waiting a year, as is necessary where nothing is heard of a missing vessel.

He traveled with Beatrice by rail and coach as far as the village of Brandon. At the inn he engaged a carriage to take her up to her father's house. It was Brandon Hall, as he very well knew.

But little was said during all this time. Words were useless. Silence formed the best communion for them. He took her hand at parting. She spoke not a word; his lips moved, but no audible sound escaped. Yet in their eyes as they fastened themselves on one another in an intense gaze there was read all that unutterable pa.s.sion of love, of longing, and of sorrow that each felt.

The carriage drove off. Brandon watched it. "Now farewell. Love, forever," he murmured, "and welcome Vengeance!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

INQUIRIES.

So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the village which bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. He had been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had pa.s.sed from a transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard and mustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of the face like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundness of outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight, thin Grecian type. His eyes alone remained the same, yet the expression had grown different, even as the soul that looked forth through them had been changed by experience and by suffering.

He gave himself out at the inn as an American merchant, and went out to begin his inquiries. Tearing two b.u.t.tons off his coat, he entered the shop of the village tailor.

"Good-morning," said he, civilly.

"Good-morning, Sir; fine morning, Sir," answered the tailor, volubly. He was a little man, with a cast in his eye, and on looking at Brandon he had to put his head on one side, which he did with a quick, odd gesture.

"There are two b.u.t.tons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repair it for me?"

"Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down."

"The b.u.t.tons," said Brandon, "are a little odd; but if you have not got any exactly like them, any thing similar will do."

"Oh, I think we'll fit you out, Sir. I think we'll fit you out,"

rejoined the tailor, briskly.

He bustled about among his boxes and drawers, pulled out a large number of articles, and finally began to select the b.u.t.tons which were nearest like those on the coat.

"This is a fine little village," said Brandon, carelessly.

"Yes, Sir; that's a fact, Sir; that's just what every body says, Sir."

"What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?"

"Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It is Brandon Hall, Sir."

"Brandon Hall?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall--or is it the Hall that is named after the village?"

"Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family."

"Is it an old family? It must be, of course."

"The oldest in the county, Sir."

"I wonder if Mr. Brandon would let a stranger go through his grounds?

There is a hill back of the house that I should like to see."

"Mr. Brandon!" exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; "Mr. Brandon!

There ain't no Mr. Brandon now!"

"How is that?"

"Gone, Sir--ruined--died out."

"Then the man that lives there now is not Mr. Brandon?"

"Nothing of the kind, Sir! He, Sir! Why he isn't fit to clean the shoes of any of the old Brandons!"

"Who is he?"

"His name, Sir, is Potts."