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Self Raised

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




Ishmael's beautiful eyes had been bent upon her all the time; now
his whole face lighted up with a smile as of a newly inspired,
benevolent hope.

"You were right-entirely right, Lady Hurstmonceux, in thus
vindicating the dignity of womanhood. And I do not believe that any
lasting blame, growing out of a misunderstanding of the
circumstances, could have attached to you," said Ishmael earnestly.

"No, indeed, there was not. And soon after that event I left
Edinboro' for the south coast of England, and at Brighton"--here the
voice of the countess sank almost to an inaudible whisper--"at
Brighton I met and married another. And now let us talk of something
else, Ishmael," she concluded, turning an affectionate glance upon
the sympathetic face of the young man. For there was a wonderful
depth of sympathy between this queenly woman of forty-five and this
princely young man of twenty-two. On her side there was the royal,
benignant, tender friendship with which such sovereign ladies regard
such young men; while, on his side, there was the loyal devotion
with which such young men worship such divinities. Such a friendship
is a blessing when it is understood; a curse when it is
misapprehended.

Ishmael turned the conversation to the subject of the act of
restitution proposed by the Earl of Hurstmonceux.

Ishmael now possessed the only clear, cool, and undisturbed
intelligence of the whole party, who were all more or less shaken by
the terrible events of the last few days. He had to think for them
all. He announced his intention of departing for London on the
ensuing Friday morning, and warned the judge that he should require
his final instructions for acting in concert with the solicitors of
the Earl of Hurstmonceux.

The judge promised that these should be ready, in writing, to place
in his hands at the moment of his departure.

"And while I am in London, had I not better see the agents of the
ocean steamers, and ascertain how soon we can obtain a passage home
for our whole party? The termination of these trials, and the
restitution of Lady Vincent's estate, really leave us nothing to do
here; and we know that Lady Vincent is pining for the repose of her
native home," said Ishmael.

"Certainly, certainly, Ishmael! The execution of Frisbie, the death
of the viscount, the conviction of Mrs. Dugald, and the act of the
Earl of Hurstmonceux, really, as you say, leave us free to go home.
I myself, as well as Claudia, pine for my home. And you, Ishmael,
though you have not said so, have sacrificed already too much of
your professional interests to our necessities. You should be at
your office. What on earth is becoming of your clients all this
time?"

"I dare say they are taken good care of, sir. Do not think of me.
Believe me, I have no interests dearer to my heart than the welfare
and happiness of my friends. Then I shall engage a passage for us
all, in the first available steamer?"

"I--I think so, Ishmael. There is nothing to keep us here longer
that I know of; we have nothing to do," said the judge hesitatingly.

"I have something yet to do, before I return home," smiled Ishmael,
with a quick and quickly withdrawn glance in the direction of the
countess; "but I shall do it before we go, or if not I can remain
behind for another steamer."

"No, no, Ishmael! You have stayed long with us; we will wait for
you. What do you say, Claudia?"

Claudia said nothing.

Ishmael replied:

"I shall endeavor to accomplish all that I propose in time to
accompany you, Judge Merlin. But if I should not be able to do so,
still I think that you had better all go by the first steamer in
which you can get a passage. You should, if possible, cross the
ocean before March sets in, if you would have anything like a
comfortable voyage."

"Heavens, yes! you are right, Ishmael. Our late voyage should teach
me a lesson. I must not expose Claudia to the chances of such
shipwreck as we suffered," said the judge gravely.

Ishmael turned and looked at Claudia. She had not once spoken since
her name had been introduced into the conversation. She had sat
there with her elbow on the table and her head bowed upon her hand,
in mournful silence. She was looking perfectly beautiful in her
widow's dress and cap--perfectly beautiful with that last divine,
perfecting touch that sorrow gives to beauty. Surely Ishmael thought
so as he looked at her. She lifted her drooping lids. Their eyes
met; hers were suffused with tears; his were full of earnest
sympathy.

"You shall not be exposed to shipwreck, Lady Vincent," he said, in a
voice rich with tenderness.

Slowly and mournfully she shook her head.

"There are other wrecks," she said:

"'And I beneath a rougher sea,
O'erwhelmed in deeper gulfs may be.'"

The last words were breathed in a scarcely audible voice, and her
head sank low upon her hand.

With a profound sigh, that seemed to come from the very depths of
his soul, Ishmael turned away. Passing near the Countess of
Hurstmonceux, he bent his head and murmured:

"Lady Vincent seems very weary."

The countess took the hint and rang for the bedroom candles, and
when they were brought, the party bade each other goodnight,
separated, and retired.

Early the next morning they set out for Edinboro', where they
arrived about midday.

The Countess of Hurstmonceux's servants, who had received
telegraphic orders from her ladyship, were waiting at the station
with carriages. The whole party entered these and drove to Cameron
Court, where they arrived in time for an early dinner.

After this, Ishmael and Judge Merlin were closeted in the library,
and engaged upon the preliminary measures for a final arrangement
with the Earl of Hurstmonceux's solicitors.

The judge, in his good opinion of the earl, would have trusted to a
simple, informal rendition of his daughter's fortune; but Ishmael,
the ever-watchful guardian of her interests, warned her father that
every legal form must be scrupulously observed in the restoration of
the property, lest in the event of the death of the Earl of
Hurstmonceux his brother and successor, the disreputable Captain
Dugald, should attempt to disturb her in its possession.

The judge acquiesced, and this business occupied the friends the
whole of that afternoon. In the evening they joined the ladies at
their tea-table, in the little drawing room. After tea, when the
service was removed, they gathered around the table in social
converse.

A servant brought in a small parcel that looked like a case of
jewelry done up in paper, and laid it before the countess.

She smiled, with a deprecating look, as she took it up and opened it
and passed it around to her friends for inspection. It was a
miniature of the countess herself, painted on ivory. It was a
faithful likeness, apparently very recently taken; for, on looking
at it, you seemed to see the beautiful countess herself on a
diminished scale, or through an inverted telescope.

"It has been making a visit," smiled the countess. "A poor young
artist in Edinboro' is getting up a 'Book of Beauty' on his own
account. He came here in person to beg the loan of one of my
portraits to engrave from. I gave him this, because it was the last
I had taken. I gave it to him because a refusal from me would have
wounded his feelings and discouraged his enterprise. Otherwise, I
assure you, I should not have let him have it for any such purpose
as he designed. For the idea of putting my portrait in a 'Book of
Beauty' is a rich absurdity."

"Pardon me; I do not see the absurdity at all," said Ishmael
earnestly, as in his turn he received the miniature and gazed with
admiration on its beautiful features.

"Young gentleman, I am forty-five," said the countess.

Ishmael gave a genuine start of surprise. He knew of course that she
must have been of that age, but he had forgotten the flight of time,
and the announcement startled him. He soon recovered himself,
however, and answered with his honest smile:

"Well, my lady, if you are still beautiful at forty-five, you cannot
help it, and you cannot prevent artistic eyes from seeing it. I, as
one of your friends, am glad and grateful for it. And I hope you
will remain as beautiful in form as in spirit even to the age of
seventy-five, or as long after that as you may live in this world."

"Thank you, Mr. Worth. I really do value praise from you, because I
know that it is sincere on your part, if not merited on mine," said
Lady Hurstmonceux.

Ishmael bowed low and in silence. Then he resumed his contemplation
of the picture. And presently he looked up and said:

"Lady Hurstmonceux, I am going to ask you a favor. Will you lend me
this picture for a week?"

The countess was a little surprised at the request. She looked up at
Ishmael before answering it.

Their eyes met. Some mutual intelligence passed in those meeting
glances. And she then answered:

"Yes, Mr. Worth. I will intrust it to you as long as you would like
to keep it; without reserve, and without even asking you what you
wish to do with it."

Again Ishmael bowed, and then he closed the case of the miniature
and deposited it in his breast-pocket.

"I hope that youth is not falling in love with his grandmother. I
have heard of such things in my life," thought the judge crossly
within himself, for the judge was growing jealous for Claudia. He
had apparently forgotten the existence of Bee.

As Ishmael was to leave Cameron Court at a very early hour of the
morning, before any of the family would be likely to be up to see
him off, he took leave of his friends upon this evening, and retired
early to his room to complete his preparations for the journey.




CHAPTER LI

ISHMAEL'S ERRAND.

I tell thee, friend, I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love;
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show that costly summer was at hand.
--_Shakespeare._



Ishmael left Edinboro' by the earliest express train for London,
where he arrived at nightfall.

He took a cab and drove immediately to Morley's Hotel in the Strand,
where Herman Brudenell was stopping.

Carpet-bag in hand, Ishmael was shown into that gentleman's sitting
room.

Mr. Brudenell sat writing at a table, but on hearing Mr. Worth
announced and seeing him enter, he started up, threw down his pen,
and rushed to welcome the traveler.

"My dear, dear boy, a thousand welcomes!" he exclaimed, heartily
shaking Ishmael's hands.

"I am very glad to come and see you again, sir. I hope that you are
quite well?" said Ishmael, cordially responding to this warm
welcome.

"As well as a solitary man can be, my dear boy. How did you leave
our friends? In good health, I trust,"

"Yes; in tolerably good health, considering the circumstances. They
are of course somewhat shaken by the terrible events of the last few
days."

"I should think so. Heaven! what an ordeal to have passed through.
Poor Claudia. How has she borne it all?"

"With the most admirable firmness. Claudia-Lady Vincent, I should
say--has come out of her fiery trial like refined gold," said
Ishmael warmly.

"A fiery trial, indeed. Ishmael, I have read the full account of the
Banff tragedy, as they call it, in all the morning papers; no two of
them agreeing in all particulars. The account in the 'Times' I hold
to be the most reliable; it is at least the fullest--it occupies
nearly two pages of that great paper."

"You are right; the account in the 'Times' is the true one."

"But, bless my life, I am keeping you standing here, carpet-bag in
hand, all this time! Have you engaged your room?"

"No; they say the house is full."

"Not quite! Mine is a double-bedded chamber. You shall share it with
me, if you like. What do you say?"

"Thank you, I should like it very much."

"Come in, then, and have a wash and a change of clothes; after which
we will have supper. What would you like?"

"Anything at all. I know they cannot send up a bad one here."

Mr. Brudenell touched the bell. The waiter speedily answered it.

"Supper directly, James. Four dozen oysters; a roast fowl; baked
potatoes; muffins; a bottle of sherry; and, and, black tea!--that is
your milksop beverage, I believe, Ishmael," added Mr. Brudenell, in
a low voice, turning to his guest.

"That is my milksop beverage," replied Ishmael good-humoredly.

The waiter went away on his errand. And Mr. Brudenell conducted
Ishmael into the adjoining chamber, where the young man found an
opportunity of renovating his toilet. When they returned to the
sitting room they found the supper served and the waiter in
attendance, but it was not until the traveler had done full justice
to this meal, and the service was removed, and the waiter was gone,
and the father and son were alone together, that they entered upon
the confidential topics.

Mr. Brudenell questioned Ishmael minutely upon all the details of
the Banff tragedy. And Ishmael satisfied him in every particular.
One circumstance in these communications was noticeable--Mr.
Brudenell, in all his questionings, never once mentioned the name of
the Countess of Hurstmonceux. And even Ishmael avoided bringing it
into his answers.

When Mr. Brudenell had learned all that he wanted to know, Ishmael
in his turn said:

"I hope, sir, that the business which brought you to England has
been satisfactorily settled?"

Mr. Brudenell sighed heavily.

"It has been settled, not very satisfactorily, but after a fashion,
Ishmael. I never told you exactly what that business was. I intended
to do so; and I will do it now."

Mr. Brudenell paused as if he were embarrassed, and doubtful in what
terms to tell so unpleasant a story. Ishmael settled himself to
attend.

"It was connected with my mother and sisters, Ishmael. They have
been living abroad here for many years, as you have perhaps heard."

"Yes."

"And they have been living far above their means and far above mine.
And consequently debts and difficulties and embarrassments have
come. Again and again I have made large sacrifices and settled all
claims against them. I am sorry to say it of my mother and sisters,
Ishmael; but if the truth must be told, their pride and extravagance
have ruined them and me, so far as financial ruin goes. If that had
been all, it might have been borne. But there was worse to come.
About a year ago my sister Eleanor--who had reached an age when
single women begin to despair of marriage--formed the acquaintance
of a disreputable scoundrel, one Captain Dugald, a younger brother,
I hear, of the present Earl of Hurstmonceux--"

"Captain Dugald! I have heard of him!" exclaimed Ishmael.

"No doubt, most people have. He is rather a notorious character.
Well, my infatuated sister took a fancy to the fellow; misled him
into the belief that she was the mistress of a large fortune; and
played her cards so skillfully that--well, in a word, the handsome
scamp ran off with her, or rather she ran off with him; for she
seems all through to have taken the initiative in her own ruin."

"But I do not understand why she should have run off? She was of
ripe age and her own mistress. Who was there to run from?"

"Her mother, her mother; who could not endure the sight of Captain
Dugald, and who had forbidden him her house."

"Ah!"

"Well, they were married at Liverpool. He took her to the United
States. At my mother's request I followed them there to reclaim my
sister, for report said that the captain had already another wife
when he married Eleanor. This report, however, I have ascertained to
be without foundation. I could not find them in the United States,
and soon gave up the search. Captain Dugald had no love for my
sister. He appears to have treated her brutally from the first hour
that he got her into his power. And when he learned that she had
deceived him,--deceived him in every way, in regard to her fortune,
in regard to her age, in regard to her very beauty, which was but
the effect of skillful dress,--he conceived a disgust for her,
abused her shamefully, and finally abandoned her in poverty, in
sickness, and in debt."

"Poor, unhappy lady; what else could she have expected? She must
have been mad," said Ishmael.

"Mad--madness don't begin to explain it. She must have been
possessed of a devil. When thus left, she sold a few miserable
trinkets of jewelry his cupidity had spared her, and took a steerage
passage in one of our steamers and followed him back to England; but
here lost sight of him, for it seems that he is somewhere on the
Continent. She came to my mother's house in London in the condition
of a beggar, knowing that she was a pauper, and fearing that she was
not a wife. In this state of affairs my mother wrote, summoning me
to her assistance. I came over as you know. I have ascertained that
my sister's marriage is a perfectly legal one; but I have not
succeeded in finding her scoundrel of a husband and bringing him to
book. He is still on the Continent somewhere; hiding from his
creditors, it is said."

"And his unhappy wife?"

"Is on her voyage to America. I have sent them all home, Ishmael.
They must live quietly at Brudenell Hall."

"But now that the Viscount Vincent is dead, and Captain Dugald
becomes the heir presumptive to the earldom of Hurstmonceux, his
prospects are so much improved that I should think he would return
to England without fear of annoyance from his creditors; such gentry
being usually very complaisant to the heirs of rich earldoms."

"I doubt if he will live to inherit the title and estate, Ishmael.
He is nearly eaten up by alcohol. Eleanor, I know, will not live
long. She is in the last stage of consumption. Her repose at
Brudenell Hall may alleviate her sufferings, but cannot save her
life," said Mr. Brudenell sadly. "I have only waited until your
business here should be concluded, Ishmael, in order to return
thither myself. You have nothing more to do. however, but to act for
Judge Merlin in this matter of restitution, and then you will be
ready to go, I presume."

"Yes; I have something else to do, sir. I have to expose a villain,
to vindicate a lady, and to reconcile a long-estranged pair,"
replied Ishmael, in a nervous tone, yet with smiling eyes.

"Why, what have you been doing but just those things? What was Lord
Vincent? What was Claudia? What was your part in that affair? Never,
since the renowned Knight of Mancha, the great Don Quixote, lived
and died, has there been so devoted a squire of dames, so brave a
champion of the wronged, as yourself, Ishmael," said Mr. Brudenell.

"You may laugh, but you shall not laugh me out of my next
enterprise, or 'adventure,' as the illustrious personage you have
quoted would call it. And, by the way, do you know anything of a
fellow-passenger of ours in the late voyage, the German Jew, Ezra
Isaacs?"

"No; why?"

"I need him in the prosecution of this adventure."

"I have not seen him since we parted at Liverpool. I know nothing
whatever about him."

"Well, then, after I have been at the chambers of Messrs. Hudson, I
must go to Scotland Yard, and put the affair in the hands of the
detectives, for have Isaacs hunted up I must."

"Is he the villain you are about to expose?"

"No; but he has been the tool of that villain, and I want him for a
sort of state's evidence against his principal."

"Ah! I wish you joy of your adventure, Ishmael. It reminds one
forcibly of the windmills," said Mr. Brudenell.

Ishmael laughed good-humoredly.

"I think it will do so, sir, when you find that the objects that you
have been mistaking for giants are only windmills after all," he
said.

"I do not understand you, my dear fellow."

Ishmael took from his breast-pocket the miniature of the Countess of
Hurstmonceux, and opening it and gazing upon it, he said:

"This is the likeness of the injured lady whose honor I have sworn
to vindicate."

"Is it Claudia's?" inquired Mr. Brudenell, stretching his hand for
it.

"No. it is not Lady Vincent's. Pardon me, upon second thoughts, sir.
I wish to tell you this lady's story before I show you her
portrait," answered Ishmael, shutting the case and returning it to
his pocket.

Mr. Brudenell sat back, looking puzzled and attentive.

"This lady was the young and beautiful widow of an aged peer. She
was as pure and noble as she was fair and lovely. She was sought in
marriage by many attractive suitors; but in vain, for she would not
bestow her hand where she could not bestow her heart. Among the most
persevering of these suitors was a profligate fortune-hunter, who,
as the near relative of her late husband, had the entre into her
house--"

"Ah! I think I have heard this story before," said Mr. Brudenell,
with the slightest possible sneer on his handsome lip.

"One side of it, sir, the false side. Hear the other, and the true
one. The beautiful widow repulsed this suitor in disgust, and
peremptorily forbade him the house. Determined not to be baffled, he
resorted to a stratagem that should have sent him to the hulks--that
did, in fact, banish him from all decent society. Are you listening,
sir?"

"With all my soul," said Mr. Brudenell, whose mocking sneer had
disappeared before an earnest interest.

"By tempting the cupidity of a poor kinsman, who was a member of the
young widow's family, he managed to get himself secretly admitted to
her house and concealed in her dressing room, whose front windows
overlooked the street. In the morning this man opened one of these
windows, and stood before it half-dressed, in full view of the
street, brushing his hair for the entertainment of the passers-by.
The glare of light from the open window, shining through the open
door into the adjoining bedchamber of the sleeping beauty, awakened
her. At sight of the sacrilegious intruder, she was so struck with
consternation that she could not speak. He took advantage of his
position and her panic, to press his repugnant suit. He plead that
his ardent passion and her icy coldness had driven him to
desperation and to extremity. He argued that all stratagems were
fair in love. He begged her to forgive him and to marry him, and
warned her that her reputation was irretrievably compromised if she
did not do so."

Ishmael paused, and looked to see what effect this story was having
upon Mr. Brudenell. Herman Brudenell was listening with breathless
interest.

Ishmael continued, speaking earnestly, for his heart was in his
theme:

"But the beautiful and spirited young widow was not one to be
terrified into a measure that her soul abhorred. Her first act, on
recovering the possession of her senses, was to ring the bell and
order the ejectment of the intruder; and despite his attempts at
explanation and remonstrance, this order was promptly obeyed, and
the lady never saw him afterward. Soon after this she left Edinboro'
for the south of England. At Brighton she met with a gentleman who
afterward became her husband. But ah! this gentleman, some time
subsequent to their marriage, received a one-sided account of that
affair in Edinboro'. He was then young, sensitive, and jealous. He
believed all that was told him; he asked no explanation of his young
wife; he silently abandoned her. And she--faithful to the one love
of her life--has lived through all her budding youth and blooming
womanhood in loneliness and seclusion, passing her days in acts of
charity and devotion. Circumstances have lately placed in my power
the means of vindicating this lady's honor, even to the satisfaction
of her unbelieving husband."

Ishmael paused, and looked earnestly into the troubled face of
Herman Brudenell.

"Ishmael," he exclaimed, "of course I have known all along that you
have been speaking of my wife, Lady Hurstmonceux. If you have not
been deceived; if the truth is just what it has been represented to
you to be; if she was indeed innocent of all complicity in that
nocturnal visit; then, Ishmael, I have done her a great, an
unpardonable, an irreparable wrong."

"You have done that lovely lady great wrong indeed, sir; but not an
unpardonable, not an irreparable one. She will be as ready to pardon
as you to offer reparation. And in her lovely humility she will
never know that there has been anything to pardon. Angels are not
implacable, sir. If you doubt my judgment in this matter, look on
her portrait now," said Ishmael, taking her miniature once more from
his coat-pocket, opening it, and laying it before Herman Brudenell.

Mr. Brudenell slowly raised it, and wistfully gazed upon it.

"Is it a faithful portrait, Ishmael?" he asked.

"So faithful that it is like herself seen through a diminishing
glass."

"She is very, very beautiful--more beautiful even than she was in
her early youth," said Mr. Brudenell, thoughtfully gazing upon the
miniature.

"Yes, I can imagine that she is more beautiful now than she was in
her early youth; more beautiful with the heavenly beauty of the
spirit added to the earthly beauty of the flesh. Look at that
picture, dear sir; fancy those charming features, living, smiling,
speaking, and you will be better able to judge how beautiful is your
wife. Oh, sir! I think that in the times past you never loved that
sweet lady as she deserved to be loved; but if you were to meet her
now, you would love her as you never loved her before."

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