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Self Raised

E >> Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth >> Self Raised



Noemi Millman, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.



SELF-RAISED
OR
FROM THE DEPTHS


BY MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH




CONTENTS



I. RECOVERY
II. HERMAN AND ISHMAEL
III. FATHER AND SON
IV. BEE
V. SECOND LOVE
VI. AT WOODSIDE
VII. AT TANGLEWOOD
VIII. WHY CLAUDIA WAS ALONE
IX. HOLIDAY
X. ISHMAEL AT BRUDENELL
XI. THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS
XII. THE JOURNEY
XIII. LADY VINCENT'S RECEPTION
XIV. ROMANCE AND REALITY
XV. CASTLE CRAGG
XVI. FAUSTINA
XVII. THE PLOT AGAINST CLAUDIA
XVIII. IN THE TRAITOR'S TOILS
XIX. CLAUDIA'S TROUBLES AND PERILS
XX. A LINK IN CLAUDIA'S FATE
XXI. NEWS FOR ISHMAEL
XXII. ISHMAEL'S VISIT TO BEE
XXIII. HANNAH'S HAPPY PROGNOSTICS
XXIV. THE JOURNEY
XXV. THE VOYAGE
XXVI. THE STORM
XXVII. THE WRECK
XXVIII. A DISCOVERY
XXIX. A DEEP ONE
XXX. A NIGHT OF HORROR
XXXI. THE CASTLE VAULT
XXXII. THE END OF CLAUDIA'S PRIDE
XXXIII. THE COUNTESS OF HURSTMONCEUX, 259
XXXIV. THE RESCUE, 273
XXXV. A FATHER'S VENGEANCE, 283
XXXVI. ON THE VISCOUNT'S TRACK, 296
XXXVII. STILL ON THE TRACK, 306
XXXVIII. CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT, 317
XXXIX. SUSPENSE, 327
XL. FATHER AND DAUGHTER, 333
XLI. ARREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA, 345
XLII. A BITTER NIGHT, 357
XLIII. FRUITS OF CRIME, 367
XLIV. NEMESIS, 378
XLV. THE VISCOUNT'S FALL, 392
XLVI. THE FATE OF THE VISCOUNT, 399
XLVII. THE EXECUTION, 410
XLVIII. NEWS FOR CLAUDIA, 419
XLIX. THE FATE OF FAUSTINA, 433
L. LADY HURSTMONCEUX'S REVELATION, 439
LI. ISHMAEL'S ERRAND, 449
LII. THE MEETING OF THE SEVERILD PAIR, 466
LIII. HOME AGAIN, 475
LIV. WHICH IS THE BRIDE? 486
LV. CONCLUSION, 494




CHAPTER I.

RECOVERY.

Something I know. Oft, shall it come about
When every heart is full of hope for man,
The horizon straight is darkened, and a doubt
Clouds all. The work the youth so well began
Wastes down, and by some deed of shame is finished.
Ah, yet we will not be dismayed:
What seemed the triumph of the Fiend at length
Might be the effort of some dying devil,
Permitted to put forth his fullest strength
To loose it all forever!
--_Owen Meredith._



Awful as the anguish of his parting with Claudia had been, it was
not likely that Ishmael, with his strength of intellect and will,
would long succumb to despair. It was not in Claudia's power to make
his life quite desolate; how could it be so while Bee cared for him?

Bee had loved Ishmael as long as Ishmael had loved Claudia. She had
loved him when he was a boy at school; when he was a young country
teacher; when he was a law-student; and she loved him now that he
was a successful barrister. This love, founded in esteem and honor,
had constantly deepened and strengthened. In loving Ishmael, she
found mental and spiritual development; and in being near him and
doing him good she found comfort and happiness. And being perfectly
satisfied with the present, Bee never gave a thought to the future.
That she tacitly left, where it belongs, to God.

Or if at times, on perceiving Ishmael's utter obliviousness of her
own kindly presence and his perfect devotion to the thankless
Claudia, Bee felt a pang, she went and buried herself with domestic
duties, or played with the children in the nursery, or what was
better still, if it happened to be little Lu's "sleepy time" she
would take her baby-sister up to her own room, sit down and fold her
to her breast and rock and sing her to sleep. And certainly the
clasp of those baby-arms about her neck, and the nestling of that
baby-form to her bosom, drew out all the heart-ache and soothed all
the agitation.

Except these little occasional pangs Bee had always been blessed in
loving. Her love, all unrequited, as it seemed, was still the
sweetest thing in the world to her; and it seemed thus, because in
fact it was so well approved by her mind and so entirely unselfish.
It seemed to be her life, or her soul, or one with both; Bee was not
metaphysical enough to decide which. She would not struggle with
this love, or try to conquer it, any more than she would have
striven against and tried to destroy her mental and spiritual life.
On the contrary she cherished it as she did her religion, of which
it was a part; she cherished it as she did her love of God, with
which it was united.

And loving Ishmael in this way, if she should fail to marry him, Bee
resolved never to marry another; but to live and die a maiden; still
cherishing, still hiding this most precious love in her heart as a
miser hides his gold. Whether benign nature would have permitted the
motherly little maiden to have carried out this resolution, I do not
know; or what Bee would have done in the event of Ishmael's marrying
another, she did not know. When Claudia went away, Bee, in the midst
of her regret at parting with her cousin, felt a certain sense of
relief: but when she saw the effect of that departure upon Ishmael
she became alarmed for him; and after the terrible experiences of
that day and night Bee's one single thought in life was--Ishmael's
good.

On the morning succeeding that dreadful day and night, Ishmael awoke
early, in full possession of his faculties. He remembered all the
incidents of that trying day and night; reflected upon their
effects; and prayed to God to deliver him from the burden and guilt
of inordinate and sinful affections.

Then he arose, made his toilet, read a portion of the Scriptures,
offered up his morning prayers, and went below stairs.

In the breakfast parlor he found Bee, the busy little house-keeper,
fluttering softly around the breakfast table, and adding a few
finishing touches to its simple elegance.

Very fair, fresh, and blooming looked Bee in her pale golden
ringlets and her pretty morning dress of white muslin with blue
ribbons. There was no one else in the room; but Bee advanced and
held out her hand to him.

He took her hand, and retaining it in his own for a moment, said:

"Oh, Bee! yesterday, last night!"

"'Upbraid not the past; it comes not back again.' Ishmael! bury it;
forget it; and press onward!" replied Bee sweetly and solemnly.

He raised her hand with the impulse to carry it to his lips; but
refraining, bowed his forehead over it instead, and then gently
released it. For Ishmael's affection for Bee was reverential. To him
she appeared saintly, Madonna-like, almost angelic.

"Let me make breakfast for you at once, Ishmael. It is not of the
least use to wait for the others. Mamma, I know, is not awake yet,
and none of the gentlemen have rung for their hot water."

"And you, Bee; you will also breakfast now?"

"Certainly."

And she rang and gave her orders. And the coffee, muffins, fried
fresh perch, and broiled spring chickens speedily made their
appearance.

"Jim," she said to the waiter who set the breakfast on the table,
"tell cook to keep some of the perch and pullets dressed to put over
the fire the moment she hears the judge's bell ring, so that his
breakfast may be ready for him when he comes down."

"Very well, miss," answered Jim, who immediately left the room to
give the order; but soon returned to attend upon the table.

So it was a tete-a-tete meal, but Bee made it very pleasant. After
breakfast Ishmael left Bee to her domestic duties and went up into
the office to look after the letters and papers that had been left
for him by the penny postman that morning.

He glanced over the newspapers; read the letters; selected those he
would need during the day; put the others carefully away; tied up
his documents; took up his hat and gloves, and set out for his daily
business at the City Hall.

In the ante-chamber of the Orphans' Court Room he met old Wiseman,
who clapped him on the shoulder, exclaiming:

"How are you this morning, old fellow? All right, eh?"

"Thank you, I am quite well again," replied Ishmael.

"Ah ha! nothing like good brandy to get one up out of a fit of
exhaustion."

"Ah!" exclaimed Ishmael, with a shudder.

"Well, and have you thought over what we were talking of yesterday?"

"It was--" Ishmael began, and then hesitated.

"It was about your going into partnership with me."

"Oh, yes! so it was! but I have not had time to think of it yet."

"Well, think over it today, will you, and then after the court has
adjourned come to my chambers and talk the matter over with me. Will
you?"

"Thank you, yes, certainly."

"Ah, well! I will not keep you any longer, for I see that you are in
a hurry."

"It is because I have an appointment at ten," said Ishmael
courteously.

"Certainly; and appointments must be kept. Good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Wiseman."

"Mind, you are to come to my chambers after the court has
adjourned."

"I will remember and come," said Ishmael.

And each went his way.

Ishmael had not yet seriously thought of Lawyer Wiseman's proposal.
This forenoon, however, in the intervals of his professional
business, he reflected on it.

The proposed partnership was unquestionably a highly advantageous
one, in a worldly point of view. Lawyer Wiseman was undoubtedly the
best lawyer and commanded the largest practice at the Washington
bar, with one single exception--that of the brilliant young
barrister whom he proposed to associate with himself. Together, they
would be invincible, carrying everything before them; and Ishmael's
fortune would be rapidly made.

So far the offer was a very tempting one; yet the more Ishmael
reflected on it the more determined he became to refuse it; because,
in fact, his conscience would not permit him to enter into
partnership with Lawyer Wiseman, for the following reasons: Lawyer
Wiseman, a man of unimpeachable integrity in his private life,
declined to carry moral responsibility into his professional
business. He was indiscriminate in his acceptation of briefs. It
mattered not whether the case presented to him was a case of
injustice, cruelty, or oppression, so that it was a case for law,
with a wealthy client to back it. The only question with Lawyer
Wiseman being the amount of the retaining fee. If his client
liberally anointed Lawyer Wiseman's eyes with golden ointment,
Lawyer Wiseman would undertake to see and make the judge and jury
see anything and everything that his client wished! With such a man
as this, therefore, whatever the professional advantages of the
association might be, Ishmael could not enter into partnership.

And so when the court had adjourned Ishmael walked over to the
chambers of Mr. Wiseman on Louisiana Avenue, and in an interview
with the old lawyer courteously declined his offer.

This considerably astonished Mr. Wiseman, who pressed Ishmael for
the reasons of his strange refusal.

And Ishmael, being urged, at length candidly confessed them.

Instead of being angry, as might have been expected, the old lawyer
was simply amused. He laughed at his young friend's scruples, and
assured him that experience would cure them. And the interview
having been brought to a close, they shook hands and parted
amicably.

Ishmael hurried home to dine and spend the evening with the family.

On the Monday following, at the order of Judge Merlin, preparations
were commenced for shutting up the town house and leaving Washington
for Tanglewood; for the judge swore that, let anyone whatever get
married, or christened, stay in the city another week he could not,
without decomposing, for that his soul had already left his body and
preceded him to Tanglewood, whither he must immediately follow it.

Oh, but Bee had plenty of work to look after that week--the packing
up of all the children's clothes, and of all the household effects--
such as silver plate, cut-glass, fine china, cutlery, etc., that
were to be sent forward to Tanglewood.

She would have had to overlook the packing of the books also, but
that Ishmael insisted on relieving her of that task, by doing it all
with his own hands, as indeed he preferred to do it, for his love of
books was almost--tender. It was curious to see him carefully
straighten the leaves and brush the cover and edges of an old book,
as conscientiously as he would have doctored a hurt child. They were
friends and he was fond of them.

Ishmael continued steadily in the performance of all his duties, yet
that he was still suffering very much might be observed in the
abiding paleness and wasting thinness of his face, and in a certain
languor and weariness in all his movements.

Bee in the midst of her multifarious cares did not forget his
interests; she took pains to have his favorite dishes appear on the
table in order to tempt him to take food. But, observing that he
still ate little or nothing, while he daily lost flesh, she took an
opportunity of saying to him in the library:

"Ishmael, you know I am a right good little doctress; I have had so
much experience in nursing father and mother and the children; so I
know what I am talking about, when I tell you that you need a
tonic."

"Oh, Bee! if you did but really know, little sister!"

"I do know, Ishmael, I know it all!" she said gently.

"'Out of the heart are the issues of life!' Bee, mine has received a
paralyzing blow."

"I know it, dear Ishmael; I know it; but let your great mind sustain
that stricken heart until it recovers the blow. And in the meantime
try to get up your strength. You must have more food and more rest,
and in order to secure them you must take a tonic in the morning to
give you an appetite, and a sedative at night to give you sleep.
That was the way we saved mamma after little Mary died, or, indeed,
I think she would have followed her."

Ishmael smiled a very wan smile as he answered:

"Indeed, I am ashamed of this utter weakness, Bee."

"Why should you be? Has Providence given you any immunity from the
common lot? We must take our human nature as it is given to us and
do the best we can with it, I think."

"What a wise little woman you are, Bee."

"That's because I have got a good memory. The wisdom was second-
handed, Ishmael, being just what I heard you yourself say when you
were defending Featherstonehaugh:

"'There's nothing original in me
Excepting original sin.'"

Ishmael smiled.

"And, now, will you follow my advice?"

"To the letter, dear Bee, whenever you are so good as to advise me.
Ah, Bee, you seem to comprise in yourself all that that I have
missed of family affection, and to compensate me for the unknown
love of her mother, sister, friend."

"Do I, Ishmael? Oh, I wish that I really did!" said Bee,
impulsively; and then she blushed deeply at suddenly apprehending
the construction that might he put upon her words.

But Ishmael answered those words in the spirit in which they were
uttered:

"Believe me, dearest Bee, you do. If I never feel the want of home
affections it is because I have them all in you. My heart finds rest
in you, Bee. But oh, little sister, what can I ever render to you
for all the good you have done me from my childhood up?"

"Render yourself good and wise and great, Ishmael, and I shall be
sufficiently happy in watching your upward progress," said Bee.

And quietly putting down on the table a bunch of grapes that she had
brought, she withdrew from the office.




CHAPTER II.

HERMAN AND ISHMAEL.

With a deep groan he cried--"Oh, gifted one,
I am thy father! Hate me not, my son!"
--_Anon_.

Nor are my mother's wrongs forgot;
Her slighted love and ruined name,
Her offspring's heritage of shame,
Shall witness for thee from the dead
How trusty and how tender were
Thy youthful love--paternal care!
--_Byron_.



Her exit was almost immediately followed by the entrance of Mr.
Brudenell. He also had noticed Ishmael's condition, and attributed
it to overwork, and to the want of rest, with change of air. He was
preparing to leave Washington for Brudenell Hall. He was going a few
days in advance of Judge Merlin and the Middletons, and he intended
to invite Ishmael to accompany him, or to come after him, and make a
visit to Brudenell. He earnestly desired to have Ishmael there to
himself for a week or two. It was with this desire that he now
entered the library.

Ishmael arose from his packing, and, smiling a welcome, set a chair
for his visitor.

"You are not looking well, Mr. Worth," said Herman Brudenell, as he
took the offered seat.

"I am not well just at present, but I shall be so in a day or two,"
returned Ishmael.

"Not if you continue the course you are pursuing now, my young
friend. You require rest and change of air. I shall leave Washington
for Brudenell Hall on Thursday morning. It would give me great
pleasure if you would accompany me thither, and remain my guest for
a few weeks, to recruit your health. The place is noted for its
salubrity; and though the house has been dismantled, and has
remained vacant for some time, yet I hope we will find it fitted up
comfortably again; for I have written down to an upholsterer of
Baymouth to send in some furniture, and I have also written to a
certain genius of all trades, called the 'professor,' to go over and
see it all arranged, and do what else is needed to be done for our
reception."

Ishmael smiled when he heard the name of the professor; but before
he could make any comment, Mr. Brudenell inquired:

"What do you say, Mr. Worth? Will you accompany me thither, or will
you come after me?"

"I thank you very much, Mr. Brudenell. I should like to visit
Brudenell Hall; but--"

"Then you will come? I am very glad! I shall be alone there with my
servants, you know, and your society will be a god-send to me. Had
you not better go down at once when I do? I go by land, in a hired
carriage. The carriage is very comfortable; and we can make the
journey in two days, and lay by during the heat of both days. I
think the trip will be pleasant. We can reach Brudenell Hall on
Friday night, and have a good rest before Sunday, when we can go to
the old country church, where you will be likely to meet the faces
of some of your old friends. I think we shall be very comfortable,
keeping bachelor-hall together at Brudenell Hall this summer, Mr.
Worth," said Herman Brudenell, who longed more than tongue could
tell to have Nora's son at home with him, though it might be only
for a short time.

"I feel your kindness very much indeed, Mr. Brudenell; and I should
be very, very happy to accept your hospitable invitation; but--I was
about to say, it really is quite impossible in the existing state of
my business for me to go anywhere at present," said Ishmael
courteously.

"Indeed? I am very sorry for that. But the reasons you give are
unanswerable, I know. I am seriously disappointed. Yet I trust,
though you may not be able to come just at present, you will follow
me down there after a little while--say in the course of a few days
or weeks--for I shall remain at the hall all summer and shall be
always delighted to receive you. Will you promise to come?"

"Indeed, I fear I cannot promise that either, for I have a very
great pressure of business; but if I can possibly manage to go,
without infringing upon my duties, I shall be grateful for the
privilege and very happy to avail myself of it; for--do you know,
sir?--I was born in that neighborhood and passed my childhood and
youth there. I love the old place, and almost long to see the old
hut where I lived, and the hall where I went to school, and the
wooded valley that lies between them, where I gathered wild-flowers
and fruits in summer and nuts in winter, and--my mother's grave,"
said the unconscious son, speaking confidentially, and looking
straight into his father's eyes.

"Ishmael," said Herman Brudenell, in a faltering voice, and
forgetting to be formal, "you must come to me: that grave should
draw you, if nothing else; it is a pious pilgrimage when a son goes
to visit his mother's grave."

There was something in this new friend's words, look, and manner
that always drew out the young man's confidence, and he said, in a
voice trembling with emotion:

"She died young, sir; and oh! so sorrowfully! She was only nineteen,
two years younger than I am now; and her son was motherless the hour
he was born."

Violent emotion shook the frame of Herman Brudenell. He had not
entered the room with any intention of making a disclosure to
Ishmael; but he felt now that--come life, come death, come whatever
might of it--he must claim Nora's son.

"Ishmael," he began, in a voice shaken with agitation, "I knew your
mother."

"You, sir!" exclaimed the young man in surprise.

"Yes, I knew her and her sister, naturally, for they were tenants of
mine."

"I knew that they lived on the outskirts of the Brudenell estate;
but I did not know you were personally acquainted with them, sir;
for I thought that you had resided generally in Europe."

"Not all the time; I was at Brudenell Hall when--you were born and
your mother went to heaven, Ishmael."

Some of the elder man's agitation communicated itself to the
younger, who half arose from his seat and looked intently at the
speaker.

"I knew your mother in those days, Ishmael. She was not only one of
the most beautiful women of her day, but one of the purest, noblest,
and best."

Herman Brudenell hesitated. And Ishmael, who had dropped again into
his seat, bent eagerly forward, holding his breath while he
listened.

Herman continued.

"You resemble her in person and character, Ishmael. All that is best
and noblest and most attractive in you, Ishmael, is derived under
Divine Providence from your mother."

"I know it! Oh, I know it!"

"And, Ishmael, I loved your mother!"

"Oh, Heaven!" breathed the young man, in sickening, deadly
apprehension; for well he remembered that this Mr. Herman Brudenell
was the husband of the Countess of Hurstmonceux at the very time of
which he now spoke.

"Ishmael, do not look so cruelly distressed. I loved her, she loved
me in return, she crowned my days with joy, and--"

A gasping sound of suddenly suspended breath from Ishmael.

"I made her my wife," continued Herman Brudenell, in a grave and
earnest voice.

"It was you then!" cried Ishmael, shaking with agitation.

"It was I!"

Silence like a pall fell between them.

"Oh, Ishmael! my son! my son! speak to me! give me your hand!"
groaned Herman Brudenell.

"She was your wife! Yet she died of want, exposure, and grief!" said
Nora's son, standing pale and stony before him.

"And I--live with a breaking heart! a harder fate, Ishmael. Since
her death, I have been a wifeless, childless, homeless wanderer over
the wide world! Oh, Ishmael! my son! my son! give me your hand!"

"I am your mother's son! She was your wife, you say; yet she never
bore your name! She was your wife; yet her son and yours bears her
maiden name! She was your wife; yet she perished miserably in her
early youth; and undeserved reproach is suffered to rest upon her
memory! Oh, sir! if indeed you were her husband and my father, as
you claim to be, explain these things before I give you my hand! for
when I give my hand, honor and respect must go with it," said
Ishmael in a grave, sweet, earnest tone.

"Is it possible that Hannah has never told you? I thought she would
have told you everything, except the name of your father."

"She told me everything that she could tell without violating the
oath of secrecy by which she was hound; but what she told me was not
satisfactory."

"Sit down then, Ishmael, sit down; and though to recall this woeful
history will be to tear open old wounds afresh, I will do so; and
when you have heard it, you will know how blameless we both--your
mother and myself--really were, and how deep has been the tragedy of
my life as well as hers--the difference between us being that hers
is a dead trouble, from which she rests eternally, while mine is a
living and life-long sorrow!"

Ishmael again dropped into his chair and gave undivided attention to
the speaker.

And Mr. Brudenell, after a short pause, commenced and gave a
narrative of his own eventful life, beginning with his college days,
and detailing all the incidents of his youthful career until it
culminated in the dreadful household wreck that had killed Nora,
exiled his family and blasted his own happiness forever.

Ishmael listened with the deepest sympathy.

It was indeed the tearing open of old wounds in Herman Brudenell's
breast; and it was the inflicting of new ones in Ishmael's heart. It
was an hour of unspeakable distress to both. Herman did not spare
himself in the relation; yet in the end Ishmael exculpated his
father from all blame. We know indeed that in his relations with
Nora he was blameless, unless his fatal haste could be called a
fault. And so for his long neglect of Ishmael, which really was a
great sin, and the greatest he had ever committed, Ishmael never
gave a thought to that, it was only a sin against himself, and
Ishmael was not selfish enough to feel or resent it.

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