The Monctons Volume Ii Part 24

"I think not. Duty compels us to combat with such feelings. The indulgence of them tends to shake our reliance on the mercy of G.o.d, and to render us unhappy and discontented."

"This is one of the mysteries of mind which we cannot comprehend. The links which unite the visible with the invisible world. But whether they have their origin from above or beneath is, to me, very doubtful; unless such presentiments operate as a warning to shun impending danger.

"I hear no admonitory voice within. All is dark, still and heavy, like the black calm that slumbers in the dense folds of yon thundercloud; as if the mind was suddenly deprived of all vital energy, and crouched beneath an overwhelming consciousness of horror."

George gave me a sudden sidelong scrutinizing glance, as if he suspected my recent accident had impaired my reason.

A vivid flash of lightning, followed by a sudden crash of thunder, made us start some paces back from the window, and a horseman dashed at full speed into the inn yard.

Another blinding flash--another roar of thunder, which seemed to fill the whole earth and heavens, made me involuntarily close my eyes, when an exclamation from George--"Good heavens, what an escape!"--made me as quickly hurry to the window.

The lightning had struck down the horse and rider whom we had before observed. The n.o.bler animal alone was slain.

The avenging bolt of heaven had pa.s.sed over and left the head of the rider, Theophilus Moncton, unscathed!

Livid with recent terror, and vexed with the loss of the fine animal at his feet, he cast a menacing glance at the lowering sky above, and bidding the ostler with an oath (which sounded like double blasphemy in our ears) to take care of the saddle and bridle, he entered the inn, shaking the mud and rain from his garments, and muttering indistinct curses on his ill-luck.

"The blasphemous wretch!" cried I, drawing a long breath. "Bad as the father is, he is an angel when compared with the son."

"Geoffrey, he is what the father has made him. I would give much to witness the meeting."

"You would see a frightful picture of human guilt and depravity. Half his fortune would scarcely bribe me to witness such a revolting scene."

The rain was now pouring in torrents, and one inky hue had overspread the whole heavens. Finding that we were likely to be detained some hours, George ordered dinner, and we determined to make ourselves as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would admit.

All our efforts to provoke mirth, however, proved abortive. The silence of our meal was alone broken by the dull clattering of knives and forks, and the tinkling of the bell to summon the brisk waiter to bring wine and draw the cloth. But if we were silent, an active spirit was abroad in the house, and voices in loud and vehement altercation in the room adjoining, arrested our attention.

The muttered curse, the restless, impatient walking to and fro, convinced us that the parties were no other than Robert Moncton and his son, and that their meeting was not likely to have a very amicable termination. At length, the voice of my uncle in a terrible state of excitement, burst forth with this awful sentence:

"I discard you, sir! From this day you cease to be my son. Go, and take my curse along with you! Go to ----! and may we never meet in time or eternity again."

With a bitter, sneering laugh the disinherited replied: "In heaven we shall never meet; on earth, perhaps, we may meet too soon. In the place to which you have so unceremoniously sent me, I can perceive some lingering remains of paternal affection--that where you are, I may be also."

"Hold your tongue, sir. Dare you to bandy words with me?"

"It would be wisdom in you, my most righteous progenitor, to bribe me to do so, when you know how much that tongue can reveal."

Another sneering derisive laugh from the son, of fiendish exultation, and a deep, hollow groan from the father, and the unhallowed conference was over.

Some one pa.s.sed the door with rapid steps. I talked to the window as Theophilus emerged into the court-yard below. He raised his eyes to the window: I met their dull, leaden stare; he started and stopped; I turned contemptuously away.

Presently after we heard him bargaining for a horse to carry him as far as York on his way to London.

"I don't envy Robert Moncton's feelings," said George. "What can have been the cause of this violent quarrel?"

"It may spring from several causes. His son's marriage alone would be sufficient to exasperate a man of his malignant disposition. But look, Harrison, the clouds are parting in the west. The moon rises early; and we shall have a lovely night after the rain for our journey to York."

"Our--I was going by the coach which pa.s.ses through the village in an hour to Elm Grove. But now I think of it, I will postpone my visit until the morrow, and accompany you a few miles on your way."

"I should be delighted with your company, George, but----"

"You would rather be alone, nursing these gloomy thoughts?"

"Not exactly. But it will postpone your visit to Miss Lee."

"Only a few hours; and as I wrote yesterday and never mentioned my visit, which was a sudden whim (one of your _odd_ presentiments, Geoffrey, which seemed to compel me almost against my will to come here) she cannot be disappointed. To tell you the truth, I did not like the look with which your cousin recognized you. When rogues are abroad it behoves honest men to keep close together. I am determined to see you safe to York."

I was too much pleased with the proposal to raise any obstacles in the way. We fell into cheerful conversation, and whilst watching the clearing up of the weather, we saw Robert Moncton mount his horse and ride out of the inn-yard.

"The sun is breaking through the clouds, George. It is time we were upon the road."

"With all my heart," said he; and a few minutes after we were upon our journey.

The freshness of the air after the heavy rains, the delicious perfume of the hedge-rows, and the loud clear notes of the blackbird resounding from the bosky dells in the lordly plantations skirting the road, succeeded in restoring my animal spirits.

Nothing could exceed the tranquillity of the lovely evening. George often checked his horse and broke out into enthusiastic exclamations of delight whilst pointing out to me the leading features in the beautiful country through which we were travelling.

"Where are your gloomy forebodings now, Geoffrey?" said he.

"This glorious scene has well-nigh banished them," I replied. "Nature has always such an exhilarating effect upon my mind that I can hardly feel miserable while the sun shines."

George turned towards me his kindling eyes and animated countenance.

"Geoffrey, I have not felt so happy as I do this evening, since I was a little, gay, light-hearted boy. I could sing aloud in the joyousness of hope and pleasing antic.i.p.ation. In this respect my feelings during the day have been quite the opposite of yours. I reproach myself for not being able to sympathize in your nervously depressed state of mind."

"Your being sad, George, would not increase my cheerfulness. The quiet serenity of the hour has operated upon me like a healing balm. I can smile at my superst.i.tious fears, now that the dark cloud is clearing from my mind."

Thus we rode on, chatting with the familiarity of long-tried friendship, discussing our past trials, present feelings, and future prospects, until the moon rose brightly on our path; and we pushed our horses to a quicker pace, in order to reach the city before midnight.

The road we were travelling had been cut through a steep hill. The banks on either side were very high, and crowned with plantations of pine and fir, which cast into deep shadow the s.p.a.ce between. The hill was terminated by a large deep gravel pit, through the centre of which our path lay; and the opposite rise of the hill, which was dest.i.tute of trees, lay gleaming brightly in the moonshine.

As we gained the wood-crowned height, we perceived a horseman slowly riding down the steep before us. His figure was so blended with the dark shadows of the descending road, that the clicking of his horse's hoofs, and the moving ma.s.s of deeper shade alone proclaimed his proximity.

"This is a gloomy spot, George. I wish we were fairly out of it."

"Afraid, Geoffrey--and two to one?"

"No, not exactly afraid; but this spot would be lonely at noonday.

Look--look! George, what makes that man so suddenly check his horse as he gains the centre of the pit and emerges into the moonlight?"

"Silence!" cried George. "That was the report of a pistol. Follow me!"

We spurred our horses to full speed and galloped down the hill.

The robbers, if indeed any were near, had disappeared, and we found the man whom we had previously observed, rolling on the ground in great agony, and weltering in blood.

Dismounting from our horses, we ran immediately to his a.s.sistance. He raised his head as we approached, and said in a low hollow voice, "I am shot--I know the rascal--he cannot escape. Raise my head, I feel choking--a little higher. The wound may not be mortal, I may live to be revenged upon him yet."

The sound of that voice--the sight of those well-known features, rendered me powerless. I stood mute and motionless, staring upon the writhing and crushed wretch before me, unable to render him the least a.s.sistance.