The Mysterious Wanderer Volume Iii Part 8

"Name not injuries, my mother;" sobbed Louise; "all is rewarded by this moment of affection! My love, my duty shall prove me worthy of it."

"I shall not experience them," said Lady Corbet, wildly. "The icy finger of death has marked the hour of my existence!"

"Not so--my mother," replied Louise, attempting to speak with cheerfulness. "My hand shall minister to thy wants; my arm support thee; affection will teach me the means of relieving thy anguish; and in the bosom of her Louise, my mother shall yet find peace and happiness!"

"Peace and happiness!" repeated Lady Corbet, franticly. "Oh, torture me not, by placing to my view blessings I must never enjoy! In thy bosom, peace and happiness may dwell, but not for me! Even now the grave is open to receive me, and all beyond is horror! Thee, I have injured--Corbet and his son--Ellenor too,--Blond and Eliza--shall point the finger of condemnation at me, and say--'Not one good action marked her life!'--Oh, let me live--Off with this fractured limb--Tear me to atoms: let me but live to atone for my crimes!--The account is too dark to answer before the Judge I have offended!"

Louise shrunk aghast from her frantic mother, who, with convulsive eagerness, attempted to tear the bandages from her arm.

Sir Henry endeavoured to restrain her.--"This must not be, my mother, you hasten the dissolution you so much dread."

"Hence, audacious boy!" she angrily exclaimed. "Darest thou lay the hand of violence on thy parent! Now, indeed, thou meritest the hatred I have shown thee! Yet stay--stay: let me not add another sin to the number of my account! I believe thou lovest me, thou hast oft evinced it. Yet, not to thee can I fly for consolation; the injuries I have done thee, are too numerous, and alone sufficient to overwhelm me with perdition!"

Mr. Talton drew her fevered hand from Sir Henry's, and gently pressing it, said, "Raise your heart in prayer, Lady Corbet, and seek for consolation in the mercy of Heaven!"

"Can I form a prayer--or ask a blessing," said Lady Corbet, "when every action of my life is marked with vice? No, no--there is no mercy for me--I never afforded it!"

"Lay your crimes at the feet of your Saviour," replied Mr. Talton, solemnly: "remember, he died for the sinner: and the first tear shed, of true repentance, restores you to the bosom of your G.o.d!"

The frenzied eye of Lady Corbet rested with piercing keenness on that of Talton. "Repentance!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Oh, if that will avail me, deeply indeed will I repent. Yet save me--save me: let me not die! I will be patient--calm. But send for the surgeon; I no longer dread a mutilated frame: and it may not yet be too late to preserve existence!"

Sir Henry hastily rose--"I will seek the surgeon this instant----"

"Not you, Harry!" cried Lady Corbet, extending her hand to detain him.

"Quit not my sight.--Little as I have loved you through life, I wish not at this moment to be deserted. Yet, send for the surgeon--and be quick; let me but live, and I will atone for all!"

Harland perceiving Sir Henry's distress sent a servant, who soon returned with the surgeon. On being informed of Lady Corbet's determination, he shook his head, saying--"It is now, I am afraid, too late. Had she submitted to the operation at first--all had been well."

Anxiously Sir Henry watched the intelligence of his eye, as he examined her arm, and with a sigh received the account. It was, indeed, not only too late to amputate the limb; but her state was such, that the succeeding day would be the utmost limit of her existence!

A groan burst from the bosom of the wretched patient, who, in agonized frenzy, alternately entreated the surgeon to save her, and implored the mercy of Heaven. Medicine was administered to compose her, which, in some degree, had the effect; and the remainder of the day and following night pa.s.sed in broken slumber and prayer.

The ensuing morning, on awaking, she perceived Sir Henry and Louise kneeling by her bed; and, regarding them some moments, with a tremulous voice said--"And dost thou, Harry, kneel to Heaven, to intercede for thy guilty parent?--Oh G.o.d! accept his prayers, though mine be rejected! and for each ill I have--and would have done him, shower a blessing on his head! But I must be quick. Reason totters, and life beats uncertain at my heart. Talton--Harland--come hither. Pursue not Mallet. The wealth he has taken--let him retain! Let Louise's fortune be restored, and the rest of my property equally divided between her and her brother--except my picture; which, Talton, I would wish you to have; and, when you view the resemblance, let pity draw a veil over my vices, and waft a prayer to Heaven--they may there be forgiven!--Pray for me, my gentle Louise!--Harry, forgive thy mother. Leave me not whilst a symptom of life remains; bear with my wanderings, and whilst I have sense to give it--receive a last blessing!"

--Life, however, was not so near its close, though it fluctuated in its channels. Repeated faintings prepared them for the last awful moment.

Sir Henry and Louise, as Lady Corbet had requested, never left her; and evening was fast closing as she faintly grasped the hand of Sir Henry--drew him nearer to her, and, sighing a broken prayer--expired on the bosom of Louise!--

CHAPTER VI.

A piercing scream from Louise as she sunk insensible by the side of her mother, roused Mr. Talton and Harland from a serious reflexion on the object before them. The Lieutenant gently raised and conveyed her to an adjoining room, where, by the a.s.sistance of Mrs. Brown, life soon returned. He attempted not to restrain the first effusions of filial sorrow; the heart of Louise, he knew, was the seat of sensibility; but fort.i.tude and religion were likewise its inmates. In the latter she found a resource; and he had soon the satisfaction of seeing her features impressed with a mild though sad serenity.

Sir Henry and Mr. Talton, in the mean time, silently retired to pay that tribute to the memory of Lady Corbet, she had not altogether merited; but, to Sir Henry, the last moments of her life had atoned for her preceding conduct: nor could Mr. Talton retain a spark of resentment for her ungenerous behaviour to himself: over her actions he drew the veil of oblivion, and gave a sigh and tear of pity to the untimely close of her existence.

The next morning he conferred with Sir Henry, and, at his desire, undertook the care of the funeral. As Lady Corbet had requested, her remains were conveyed to Holly seat, and deposited in the vault, by her father. Mr. Talton, Sir Henry, and Harland attended; nor would Louise be debarred from paying this final mark of respect to her mother; and a last tear fell on her coffin, as she silently preferred a prayer, that, with her ashes, the remembrance of her vices might be for ever buried from the world!

With minds depressed from the scenes they had so lately witnessed, they were reconveyed to Corbet Hall, where, to the surprise of Sir Henry, he was informed the Captain and Frederick were at Sir Arthur Howard's.

Two days, indeed, after he set out for Cornwall, Frederick received a letter from Lady Howard, to acquaint him with the death of his brother, who, in hunting, had been thrown from his horse, and killed on the spot: and, as the violence of Sir Arthur's grief, at this untimely loss of his favourite son, had brought on a severe illness, she had written to request his immediate presence, with that of the Captain.

They accordingly took a hasty leave of their friends, and returned with the messenger to Howard Hall, where they were received by Lady Howard, and an affecting interview took place between her and her son: nor was the Captain unwelcomed; she had ever felt for him the affection of a sister; but, as duty was her first consideration, yielded to the imperious commands of her husband, that he should from that time be regarded as an alien to the family.

Sir Arthur, she informed them, was still confined to his bed; the violence of his grief, which they at first apprehended would have destroyed his reason, had exhausted itself; and he was then sunk into a gloomy sorrow, which threatened to retain a longer influence on his mind; the arrival of the Captain and Frederick (now the heir to his t.i.tle and estates), she, however, hoped, would not only rouse him from an unavailing grief, but be the means of effecting a perfect reconciliation between them.

Lady Howard was right. The attentions of his brother and son proved highly gratifying to Sir Arthur, who, in a few days, consented to rejoin his family.

The long-neglected Frederick now appeared to gain an interest in his heart; though a sigh oft swelled his bosom at the recollection of the deceased Arthur: but, the rising gloom was ever carefully dispelled by the lively Theodosia, to whom, since the death of his son, he had behaved with an unwonted show of affection.

Six weeks pa.s.sed, when the Captain proposed returning to Corbet Hall; and, knowing the anxiety which preyed on Frederick's mind, respecting Ellen, he took an opportunity to mention his engagement with her, to Sir Arthur: who, contrary to his expectation, readily gave his consent to their union. When a boy, he said, he had been intimate with her father, who once saved his life; and as her family was good, indeed n.o.ble, he would wave the consideration of the fortune Frederick, as his heir, had a right to expect with a wife. He could not, however, he added, consent to his leaving him entirely; he should pa.s.s at least half his time, till his marriage, with him. To this, Frederick cheerfully agreed, and, a few days after, returned with the Captain, to Sir Henry's.

During their absence, Mr. Talton had so far improved his suit, that Mrs.

Blond consented again to enter the marriage state. The late Sir Henry, she frankly told him, was the only man she had ever loved. The virtues and amiable disposition of Blond had merited her esteem and sincerest friendship; those she had still to give, but nothing farther: her affections were buried in the tomb of Corbet. The gift, he felt, was still too valuable to be rejected; and he doubted not he yet might realize the scenes of domestic happiness he had formerly planned.

As the marriages of Sir Henry and Frederick had been deferred, on account of the decease of Lady Corbet and young Arthur, it was agreed that, at the time again appointed for that ceremony, Mrs. Blond should likewise yield her hand to Mr. Talton. Edward sighed as he heard these arrangements; and the Captain, with concern, perceived his increasing dejection at his unsuccessful inquiry after the fair Unknown, for whom he had in vain searched the greatest part of Caermarthen. He then declared his intention of going to Oxford; to inquire if perchance any of his acquaintance had seen her since he quitted the University? The Captain could not oppose his determination, and as Louise and Harland were going to London, to St. Ledger's, they accompanied him to Oxfordshire, having promised Sir Henry to return to Wales, before the time appointed for the marriages.

In the mean while, preparations were forwarded for that occasion.

Frederick, as his father had desired, pa.s.sed a considerable part of his time at Howard Hall. Sir Arthur's regard for him appeared daily to increase, and on Frederick expressing a wish that he would honour the nuptials with his presence, he instantly complied; and, with Lady Howard and Theodosia, accompanied him to Sir Henry's. The arrival of Harland and Louise, with the St. Ledger family, added to the pleasure of their society. Edward only was absent, who continued a fruitless search, till the day preceding that fixed for the union of his friends, when he arrived, so apparently ill, that the Captain began to be seriously alarmed.

Edward endeavoured to rally his spirits; and on Sir Henry and Frederick's joining him, to chide his long desertion, with forced cheerfulness, answered their good-humoured reproaches, and prepared to attend them to the drawing-room. The Captain introduced him to their several friends; but on presenting Theodosia, Edward, with exulting transports, exclaimed--"O G.o.d, my father! it is my unknown----it is----"

"Theodosia, the daughter of Sir Arthur Howard," interrupted the Captain, with vivacity. Sir Arthur, hearing his name, advanced, and instantly recognised Edward, to whom he proffered his hand, and, reminding him of the accident at Oxford, renewed his thanks for the service he had rendered his daughter.

"Your thanks, I am afraid, Sir Arthur," said the Captain, with a smile, "will not sufficiently recompense my son for that evening's adventure.

He loves your daughter, and has for some months been seeking her. You know my fortune; if, on a farther acquaintance, you approve him for a son-in-law, he shall have half at his marriage, the remainder at the decease of myself and his mother."

Sir Arthur paused a moment--but the offer was too advantageous to be rejected, and he readily acceded to it.

"But what says Theodosia?" asked the Captain. "Without her consent, ours are of no effect."

"Her consent!" repeated Sir Arthur. "She shall consent! Let her refuse if she dare: I will not again be fooled!"

Theodosia attempted not to reply; the deepest confusion oppressed her; yet she withdrew not her hand from Edward, but with a timid interceding glance, raised her eyes to her father. The flush of anger was fast crimsoning the cheek of Sir Arthur, at the idea of her not according with the proposal of her uncle, when Lady Howard joined them, and tenderly taking the hand of her daughter, said--"Have some consideration, Sir Arthur, to the delicacy of my girl. Disobedience to a father she truly loves, is, I am certain, far from her heart or wishes; but on this subject, unprepared as she was, no answer could be so proper as her silence. Your nephew has sincere friends in his cause, and, aided by time, need not despair of success."

To her mother, Theodosia had mentioned the attention of Edward, when at Oxford, and their subsequent interview in Wales; pourtraying him in such favourable colours, and dwelling on each word and incident with such pleasure and minuteness, as showed he had made no inconsiderable impression on her heart.

She now directed a look of grateful acknowledgment to Lady Howard, for the relief she had afforded her, whilst Sir Arthur, in a milder tone, replied: "Well--well, Madam, you may be right; but you know I do not like to be trifled with."

This discovery, as unexpected as pleasing, added to the happiness of every individual; nor was Edward long in obtaining a confession; her affections were too nearly interested in his favour, to let duty have the merit of her compliance with the wishes of her father.

At last the morn so ardently expected, arrived! The tenants of Sir Henry, who the same day attained his one-and-twentieth year, a.s.sembled on the lawn, and proceeded with them to church, where Sir Henry, Mr.

Talton, and Frederick, received the hands of their destined brides. Nor would old Thomas be denied the gratification of attending his master on this occasion, at which no one more sincerely rejoiced: he appeared to have shaken off the infirmities of age; and after the ceremony, joining the tenants, conducted them back to the lawn, where a n.o.ble banquet, by order of their generous landlord, added to the pleasure of the peasantry; and a rural ball concluded the day, in which Sir Henry and his friends did not disdain to join.

For three weeks the Hall and Mr. Talton's house were proclaimed open as the hearts of their owners; and at the expiration of that time, the whole party proceeded to the seat of Sir Arthur, where he yielded to the solicitations of Edward, and resigned the hand of Theodosia. The liberality of the Captain on this occasion awakened the generosity of his brother, and Howard Hall for some weeks vied with the hospitable mansions of Corbet and Talton. Sir Arthur did more--he insisted on resigning the family seat to Frederick and Ellen; himself retiring, with his Lady, to a smaller one he possessed within less than a mile, where, as he said, he could daily visit or be visited by them.

Another month, however, elapsed before they thought of separating; and then with an unanimous promise of frequently visiting each other.