The Gipsy Part 26

For an instant the thoughts of Lord Dewry were all in confusion and uncertainty,--doubtful of the end to which Manners's interrogatory tended, and fearful that a man to whom he had given such just cause for anger had become acquainted with some of the dreadful secrets which oppressed his own bosom. His first impulse was to lift his hand to his head, and to gaze with some degree of wildness upon the countenance of his questioner; but almost instantly recalling his firmness, and recollecting the measures he had taken, and the schemes he had laid out, he recovered also his composure, and replied, with a forced smile, "You have alarmed me about my son, Colonel Manners; but you ask me if I know a gipsy of the name of Pharold. I do: my family have, I am afraid, too good reason to know him."

"Then have you any cause to suppose that he bears an ill-will towards your family?" demanded Manners again.

"I have, sir, I have!" replied Lord Dewry; "I have the strongest reasons to believe that he bears us ill-will,--that he has already injured us, and seeks but the opportunity to do more and more for our destruction."

"Does his ill-will particularly point against your son, my lord?"

asked Manners, deeply interested by an answer which to him was both mysterious and painful.

"No, no!" exclaimed the peer, starting up from the chair into which he had cast himself when he had invited Manners to be seated--"no, no!

certainly not! What is the meaning of this? You have some darker meaning, sir! What of Edward? Tell me, I beseech you, tell me, where is my son?"

"My lord, I am grieved to repeat, that I cannot tell you where he is,"

replied Manners; "and it is for the purpose of concerting means for discovering him that I now wait upon your lordship. He went out, it appears, to see this gipsy Pharold, and has never returned."

Manners acted for the best; and having not the slightest idea of all that was pa.s.sing in the bosom of De Vaux's father, he thought that by concealing for a few moments the proof he had obtained of his friend having been murdered, he would allow the mind of the unhappy parent to come by degrees, and less painfully, to a knowledge of the truth: but the result was by no means such as he antic.i.p.ated; for to Lord Dewry the bare idea of his son having any communication whatever with the eyewitness of that dreadful deed which he had committed in other years, was agonizing in itself; and, without remembering that any one was present to remark the agitation to which he yielded, he clasped his hands together, and strode up and down the saloon, muttering, "Villain! scoundrel! it is all over!" Then, again, recollecting that he was observed, he found it necessary to curb his emotions, and to make anxiety for his son the apparent cause for that agitation which he had already displayed. "Colonel Manners," he said, "you alarm me much. For Heaven's sake, tell me the particulars! Something more than a temporary and ordinary absence must have occurred to excite apprehensions in an officer so much accustomed to danger as yourself.

Nor is my sister a woman to yield to idle fears. Tell me, then, what has happened to my son, and why you are led to suppose that there has been any communication between him and a person in regard to whom I have more than suspicions of very terrible deeds--who is, I believe, a villain of the blackest character, and who would scruple at nothing to injure a race who were his first benefactors."

"The facts are these, my lord," replied Manners: "but I trust we shall find that your son's absence is owing, notwithstanding its strangeness, to some accidental circ.u.mstance of no importance. As I was about to say, however, the facts are these:--It appears that last night De Vaux did not go to bed; that he left Morley House during the night, and that he has never returned during the day. He also, I find, mentioned yesterday to his cousin, Miss De Vaux, his intention of visiting a gipsy named Pharold, who had sent him a letter that morning; but his purpose, as he then stated it, was to go to Morley Down, where the gipsies were, to-day, and not during the night; and his prolonged absence has, of course, greatly alarmed Mrs. Falkland and her family."

"But has no search been inst.i.tuted? Have no traces been found?" cried Lord Dewry, his fears taking a new direction. "No time should be lost."

"No time has been lost as yet, my lord," replied Manners: "I myself have been to the place where the gipsies were last seen; but they are there no more, and, to all appearance, must have either decamped in the night or early this morning. But it appears certain, from the evidence of Mr. De Vaux's servant, who was with me, that some footprints which we traced on the ground, in different parts of the common, were from my poor friend's boot; and in the same track are those of another person, who was apparently with him during the night."

"But whither did they lead?" exclaimed the peer, whose agitation was becoming dreadful. "Speak out, sir, for G.o.d's sake! You call him your poor friend: you have discovered more. Whither did the footsteps lead?

I can bear all."

"They led, my lord," replied Manners, "to a high bank, overhanging a part of the road, about a mile or more to the west of Morley House, near a point of wooded land which causes the river to take a singular bend in its course."

Lord Dewry shook in every limb; but, by a strong effort, he uttered, "Go on, sir; go on: let me hear the worst."

"Thank G.o.d, my lord, I have little more to inflict upon your lordship," replied Manners. "At that bank the steps ended; but--"

He paused, and the peer eagerly demanded, "But what--what found you more?"

"It must be told," thought Manners. "We found, my lord," he added, aloud, "a good deal of blood spilled upon the sand."

The peer groaned bitterly. "My poor boy! my poor boy!" he cried; but for some minutes he said no more.

While Manners had been in the act of telling his tale, the conflict which had taken place in the bosom of Lord Dewry can better be conceived than described. Every moment produced a change of sensation; every word a new and different apprehension. Now he fancied his son made acquainted with his guilt; now feared that the very means he had taken to conceal it might have made the gipsy to wreak his vengeance on his unoffending child. That Pharold was capable of committing any or every crime was a conviction which had been brought about in the mind of the peer by one of those curious processes in the human heart whereby great guilt seeks to conceal its blackness from even its own eyes, by representing others in colours as dark as it feels that it itself deserves; and while at one moment he suspected that Pharold might have obtained information of the trap laid for him by the gamekeeper, and to avenge himself might have revealed his whole history to Edward de Vaux, at another he believed that the destruction of his son might have been the means which the gipsies had determined upon, in order to punish himself for his designs against them.

As Colonel Manners concluded his account, however, the latter opinion predominated over all others; the peer's own heart acknowledged that the means they had taken was that which was the most fearfully effectual; and he beheld no other image than the heir of his name, the child of his love, murdered in cold blood, within sight of the very spot where his own hand had slain his brother. All his first emotions were consecrated to deep grief. He had loved his son; he had admired him; and affection and pride had united to give him the only green place in a heart that angry pa.s.sions had left arid and desolate; and now he was alone in all the world. He had been hitherto like a mariner ploughing the waves in the midst of storms and darkness, with one small point of bright light in the wide dark vacancy before him; but now the clouds had rolled over that light for ever, and the past and the future were alike one lurid night. There was nothing left in life to live for; and during one moment all was despair: but the minute after, the most overpowering pa.s.sion of human nature rose up, and rekindled with its own red and baleful light the extinguished torch of hope. Revenge became his thirst; and the remembrance that it was nearly within his grasp, and that another day would give it to him, was the only consolation that his mind could receive. It seized upon him at once; it compelled every other feeling and pa.s.sion to its aid: grief gave it bitterness; pride gave it intensity; wrath lent it eagerness. "He has smitten me to the heart," he thought; "he has smitten me to the heart. But I will smite him still deeper, and he shall learn what it is to have raised his hand against a son of mine."

It was but for one instant that he had given way to despair, and the next revenge took possession of his whole soul, and became almost more than a consolation--a joy. All its dark and cruel pictures, too, rose up before his mental vision, and he pleased himself with gazing forth into the future, and seeing him he most hated within the gripe of his vengeance. He painted to himself the agony which long and solitary imprisonment would inflict on a heart which he knew to be wild and free; he thought over all the tyrannical details of a trial in a court of justice; and he gazed even into the gipsy's bosom, and saw the burning indignation and despair that would wring his heart, exposed a public spectacle to the eyes of a race he detested, tried by laws he condemned and had abjured, and exciting the curiosity and the loud remark of the idle and the vulgar. He followed him in imagination to the scaffold, and saw him die the death of a dog; and only grieved that there revenge must stop, and that the cup contained not another drop of ignominy and suffering to pour upon the head of him who had destroyed his son.

Occupied with these thoughts, he remained silent for several minutes; but his features worked, and his limbs even writhed, wrought unconsciously by the intensity of the emotions within. Colonel Manners saw the strong and painful degree of his agitation; but he had no key to the secret sources of feeling which, opened wide by the news of his son's loss, were gushing forth in streams of bitterness upon his heart. He attributed, then, all that he saw to deep grief; and although his application to the peer, in his magisterial capacity, had been but to bring about the disclosures he had to make as gently as possible, yet he still thought it best to continue the same course with which he had begun, in order to engage the unhappy n.o.bleman in those personal and active exertions which might in some degree divert his mind from the sole and painful contemplation of his recent loss.

"My lord," he said, feelingly, "believe me, no one feels more deeply and sympathizes more sincerely with your lordship than myself; but allow me to recall to your mind that great and instant exertions are necessary to ensure the arrest of the murderer; the pursuit of whom I have determined never to quit till I have seen him brought to justice."

Lord Dewry, with his own burning hand, clasped warmly that of Colonel Manners, the object of his former hatred. The fact is, however, that circ.u.mstances had established between them two strong ties since the death of Edward de Vaux. The one was wholly composed of good feelings, and sprang from their mutual affection for the deceased,--affection which had, of course, risen in value in each other's eyes since death had hallowed it; and the other,--composed of feelings which, though n.o.ble and virtuous on the one part, were terribly mixed with evil on the other,--was the desire of bringing the murderer to justice. Lord Dewry then grasped Colonel Manners's hand, and said, "I have much to thank you for, sir, and I am afraid that I have somewhat to apologize for in the past; but--"

"Do not mention it, I beg, my lord," replied Manners. "It is forgotten entirely; only let us bend our energies with a common effort to pursue this sad affair to an end, to discover, as far as Heaven shall enable us, what has really occurred, and above all, to ensure the immediate apprehension of this gipsy Pharold, whom every circ.u.mstance, hitherto apparent, points at as the murderer."

A gleam of triumph broke over the thin sallow countenance of the peer.

"If I am not very much mistaken, Colonel Manners," he said, "this very Pharold will be in our hands to-night. He and his gang are not famous alone for one sort of crime. My park-keepers at Dimden informed me a few days ago that they had discovered a plan which these gipsies had laid for robbing my park of the deer; and I immediately took measures to ensure the arrest of the whole of them in the very fact. Nor was my purpose alone to save my game, Colonel Manners, nor to punish deer-stealers," continued Lord Dewry, raising his head and speaking with determined firmness; "no, I had a weightier object in view; I had a more serious offence to avenge."

The peer paused; for although he was anxious to make the charge which he had determined to bring against the gipsy, boldly and distinctly to as many private individuals as possible, before he urged it in a public court of justice, yet he felt a difficulty, a hesitation, perhaps we might say a fear, in p.r.o.nouncing for the first time so false an accusation against a fellow-creature, which was to be supported, too, by so many dark, and tortuous, and deceitful contrivances. There was in his bosom a consciousness of the fallacy, of the futility, we might say, of all human calculations, which produced an undefined dread of rendering his schemes irretrievable by once making the charge to any one. It was to him the pa.s.sing of the Rubicon; and that step once taken, he felt that he should be involved in a labyrinth of obscure and unknown paths, from which there would be no retreat, and which would conduct him whither he knew not. And yet he saw that it must be taken; that the gipsy's first act after his arrest would undoubtedly be, to charge him with the crime which he had committed; and that it was absolutely necessary, in order to give all his future proceedings a firm basis and a commanding position, to be the person to accuse rather than the person accused. He knew how inferior defence is to attack; how much more faith men are naturally inclined to give to a charge than they give to a recrimination; and from the first commencement of his reply to Colonel Manners he had determined to make it boldly; but when he came to the immediate point where it was to be spoken, he hesitated and paused irresolute.

The next moment, however, he went on. "Colonel Manners," he said, resuming his firmness, "as I believe that the culprit may be considered in our power, and that therefore no indiscreet communication of my suspicions can give him warning to escape, I do not scruple to say that I have many, many reasons to suppose that this gipsy, this Pharold, is not only the murderer of my son, poor Edward, but that my brother's death also may be laid to his charge; and with a view of bringing him to justice for that offence it was that I, this very morning, took the surest measures for his apprehension, and not for any pitiful affair of deer-stealing, which might have gone long unpunished ere I exerted myself as I have done."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Manners, gazing upon the peer in much surprise.

"How strangely do events sometimes come round!"

"Perhaps you are not acquainted with the circ.u.mstances of my brother's death," replied the peer, marking some surprise in Manners's countenance, and in his anxiety to show the probability of the charge he had made, overcoming his repugnance to speak upon a subject of all others the most dreadful to him. "However, Colonel Manners," he continued, "he was killed by some one unknown many years ago; and the suspicions against this man Pharold were then so strong, that good Mr.

Arden, the magistrate, would fain have had him committed, had not I foolishly interfered, from a weak conviction of his honesty. That conviction, however, has been since removed, and I may say that I have in my hands the most decided proofs of his guilt."

Such was the explanation to which the apparent surprise of Colonel Manners led on the peer; but that surprise proceeded both from the new charge which the peer made against the gipsy being totally unexpected by his hearer, and from another cause which must be explained, as it touches upon some of those little weaknesses of our nature, which Colonel Manners possessed in common with other human beings.

Through the whole affair, since he had discovered the traces of De Vaux's footsteps on the common, and the marks of bloodshed at the quarry, hope had offered to the mind of Charles Manners but one suggestion to diminish his apprehensions for the fate of his friend; and that suggestion, strange enough to say, was that the countenance, the demeanour, and the language of the gipsy Pharold were not those of a man familiar with guilt or designing evil. Colonel Manners was too much a man of the world, and too much a man of sense, to suffer such impressions to affect his conduct in the slightest degree. He knew that this earth contains every grade and every sort of hypocrisy; and that Satan himself will occasionally a.s.sume the form of an angel of light: but at the same time, although his behaviour was on all occasions guarded by what he had learned from experience, yet through life he had preserved his natural enthusiasm unblunted by the hard world in which we live; and there was thus in his character a rare mingling of ardent and energetic feelings with calm and well calculated actions, which formed the specific difference between him and the general herd with which he moved. During his conversation with Pharold he had remarked a dignity, not alone of manner, but of thought, in the gipsy, opposed to all the habits of his tribe, and which must have been difficult to retain among them at all, but still more difficult to a.s.sume, if it was not natural and habitual,--if it sprang not from a heart at ease in itself, and a consciousness of virtue and intellect superior to the things through which it pa.s.sed.

His countenance, too, had appeared to him open and frank, though wild and keen; and Manners wished much to believe that vice or crime, in general, more or less affect the expression of the human face. All this had struck him; and though, as we have said before, he suffered not these impressions to affect his conduct in the least, opposed as they were to known facts, and circ.u.mstances of great probability, yet hope still whispered, surely that gipsy was not a man either to plan or to commit so dreadful a deed as the indications he had met with would have naturally led him to suspect. It may well be supposed, then, that the numerous and dark charges brought forward so boldly by the peer startled Manners not a little; and as he had no cause to believe that Lord Dewry was instigated by any motive to prefer a false accusation against the gipsy, he could only conclude that he himself had been deceived in his estimation of Pharold's character by the most skilful and consummate hypocrisy.

"I have heard some of the events to which your lordship alludes," he replied, as soon as the peer paused; "and was only surprised to hear such an unexpected aggravation of the suspicious circ.u.mstances which have already appeared against this man Pharold. I trust, too, that the measures which your lordship has taken may be successful for his arrest; but allow me to suggest, that the unhappy news which I have had the melancholy duty of communicating ought to point out more extensive operations for the apprehension of the offender, as it is not at all impossible that this new offence may have entirely changed the circ.u.mstances, and may have put a stop to the attack upon your lordship's park, of which you received intimation."

Lord Dewry struck his hand upon the table, perceiving suddenly the probability of Colonel Manners's suggestion, and antic.i.p.ating with rage and disappointment the possible escape of the gipsy, or at least his evasion till such time as the arrival of Sir William Ryder in England might render the schemes he had planned, if not entirely impracticable, at all events highly difficult of execution, and dangerous to himself in the attempt.

"He shall be taken, if it cost me life and fortune," he exclaimed; "but how, how?--that is the question, Colonel Manners. What you say is true; the murder of my poor unhappy boy may have scared them away from the scene of their crimes, and most probably has done so ere this.

What is to be done? how can we trace them? Pray, advise me, Colonel Manners, if you had any regard for your unhappy comrade."

His agitation was dreadful; and Manners saw that the only way to tranquilize him was to give him fresh hopes of the apprehension of those who had been instrumental in the death of his son. "Most willingly will I give you any advice and a.s.sistance in my power," he replied; "but your lordship will be better able to judge what is most fitting to be done when you hear what I have already endeavoured to accomplish. My proceedings have been those of a soldier, but perhaps they may not be the less likely to be successful on that account."

"The more, the more," cried Lord Dewry; "but let me beg you to give me the details."

"In the first place, my lord," he replied, "I have sent my poor friend's own servant, who is a keen and active fellow, to trace out the gipsies, and to follow the tracks we discovered on the common as far as possible. I have furnished him also with money to hire a.s.sistance and to buy information; and I directed him, as soon as his object was accomplished, to join me at Barholm with all speed. He had not, however, arrived when I pa.s.sed the inn, and I ordered him to be sent on here as soon as ever he appeared."

"Thank you, thank you, sir," reiterated Lord Dewry; "but do you think there is any hope of his discovering the road the villains have taken?"

"Every chance, my lord," replied Colonel Manners: "in the first place, the tracks of the wheels, and the feet going in one particular direction, was too evident to leave a doubt in regard to which path they had taken at first. That path, I find, leads down to a hamlet where they must have been seen, and where the servant will most probably obtain the means of tracing them farther. But my next step, my lord, is, I think, likely to produce the still more desirable result of placing in the hands of justice the particular individual whom we have the greatest reason to suspect. While we were examining the sandpit, where these gipsies had been a.s.sembled, we discovered some one apparently watching the common from the wood; and whether at first he mistook us for some of his own tribe or not, I cannot tell; but he advanced some way towards us. As soon as I saw he was again retreating to the wood, I galloped after him; and though I unfortunately had not time to overtake him, yet I had an opportunity of satisfying myself very nearly to a certainty that this was that very Pharold whom I had once before seen on another occasion. I took measures as soon as possible for having the wood surrounded by a mounted patrol of as many men as it was possible to obtain, and I directed that any one who was apprehended in coming out of it should be instantly carried before Mr. Arden, to whom I had written a concise account of all the circ.u.mstances."

The peer mused; for, as in every dark and complicated scheme of villany, the slightest alteration in the events which he had antic.i.p.ated was likely to produce the most disastrous results to the schemer. "If Pharold be carried at once before Mr. Arden," thought the peer, "the accusation which he has it in his power to bring against me may be made before I am aware of it, and that, too, to the very man who has the best means of comparing minutely, in the first stages of the proceeding, the present charge with the past circ.u.mstances. That the gipsy will ultimately tell his own tale, there can be no doubt; yet to make the first impression is the great object--to be the accuser rather than the accused--to attack rather than defend." With such views, the probability of the gipsy being carried before Mr.

Arden ere he had been prepared was anything but agreeable to the peer; and for a moment the anguish occasioned by his son's death was forgotten, in apprehensions for the failure of his own deep-laid schemes.

"I will write myself to Mr. Arden," he said, at length, after long thought--"I will write myself, and send off the letter this very night. Colonel Manners, excuse me for one moment. I have but a few lines to write, and will be back with you in a few minutes." Thus saying, he proceeded to his library, and with a hasty hand wrote down that bold and decided charge against the gipsy which was to bring the long apprehended struggle between them to an end at once. Nor did he, in this instance, feel any hesitation. The words had now been spoken to Colonel Manners--the charge had once been made; and it is wonderful the difference that exists between the first and the second time of doing anything that is wrong. He wrote, too, though without any effort at policy, yet with the most exquisite art--with that sort of intuitive cunning which much intercourse with the world, and its worst part, gives to the keen and unscrupulous. He referred, directly, to Mr. Arden's former opinion concerning the culpability of the gipsy; he took shame and reproach to himself for his own incredulity at the time; he declared that subsequent events had shown the wisdom and clear-sightedness of the worthy magistrate's judgment, and he finished his letter by directly accusing the gipsy of the crime which Mr. Arden had suspected, doubting not that vanity would establish in the mind of the magistrate such a prepossession against the object of his wiles as to give everything in the important first steps that were to ensue a strong tendency against Pharold.

This done, he read the note over with satisfaction, sealed it, and sent it off, raised his head, and, gazing upon vacancy, thought, for a moment, over all the stern and painful circ.u.mstances that surrounded him, and then turned his steps back to the room where he had left Colonel Manners. He had now, however, made the course he was to pursue irretrievable; his son's death had been the only thing wanting to give all his determinations the energy of despair; he had chosen his path, he had pa.s.sed the Rubicon, and never hereafter, through the course of this history, will be found in his character any of those fluctuating changes of feeling and resolution which we have endeavoured to depict while his fate was unfixed and his purpose undetermined. Deeply, sternly, from that moment, he pursued his way, driven at length to feel that one crime must be succeeded by many more to render it secure.

"I have now, Colonel Manners," he said, as he entered the saloon, "to apologize for leaving you so unceremoniously; but you will, I am sure, make excuse for feelings agitated like mine. To guard against the most remote chance of Mr. Arden suffering this Pharold to escape, I have formally made a charge, which I shall be able to substantiate, I am sure, concerning the death of my poor brother; and next, let me beg you to give me your good advice in regard to what more should be done, in case the measures which you and I have separately taken should prove alike insufficient."

"I would not wait, my lord," replied Manners, "to ascertain whether they were sufficient or not; but I would instantly take measures to guard against their insufficiency. You have, I think, only three contiguous counties here; had you not better send off messengers at once to the sheriffs and magistrates of those three, informing them of the circ.u.mstances, and begging them to stop any party of gipsies, or any person similar in appearance to this man Pharold? Your messengers, well mounted, will soon be far in advance of the murderer, or his accessories, whose mode of travelling cannot be very rapid."

The suggestion was no sooner given than it was a.s.sented to; and with all speed the necessary letters were written by the peer, who took as active and energetic a part in the whole proceedings as if he had been in his prime of youth. But it was a part of his character to do so. He could feel deep grief, it is true--and did feel it for the loss of his son--but grief with him led not to languor and despondency, but, on the contrary, to hate and to revenge; and as hunger, instead of weakening, only renders the tiger and the wolf more ferocious and more tremendous, so sorrow, instead of softening, only rendered him more fierce and more vehement. The activity, the energy, and the fire he displayed in his whole proceedings not a little surprised Colonel Manners; and had he had time or inclination for anything like gayety, he might have smiled to think that he had refused, on account of age, to cross his sword with one who, in pa.s.sions, at least, seemed anything but an old man. Ere the letters were sealed, however, it was announced that Mr. De Vaux's servant had arrived from Barholm, and inquired for Colonel Manners. With the peer's permission he was brought in; and bowing low to his master's father, by whom he was well known, he gave a full account of his search in answer to Manners's questions.