St. Ronan's Well Page 29

  CHAPTER V.

  PRIVATE INFORMATION.

  ----Ope this letter; I can produce a champion that will prove What is avouched there.----

  _King Lear._

  The billet which Mowbray received, and read in his sister's presence,contained these words:--

  "Sir,--Clara Mowbray has few friends--none, perhaps, excepting yourself, in right of blood, and the writer of this letter, by right of the fondest, truest, and most disinterested attachment, that ever man bore to woman. I am thus explicit with you, because, though it is unlikely that I should ever again see or speak to your sister, I am desirous that you should be clearly acquainted with the cause of that interest, which I must always, even to my dying breath, take in her affairs.

  "The person, calling himself Lord Etherington, is, I am aware, in the neighbourhood of Shaws-Castle, with the intention of paying his addresses to Miss Mowbray; and it is easy for me to foresee, arguing according to the ordinary views of mankind, that he may place his proposals in such a light as may make them seem highly desirable. But ere you give this person the encouragement which his offers may seem to deserve, please to enquire whether his fortune is certain, or his rank indisputable; and be not satisfied with light evidence on either point. A man may be in possession of an estate and title, to which he has no better right than his own rapacity and forwardness of assumption; and supposing Mr. Mowbray jealous, as he must be, of the honour of his family, the alliance of such a one cannot but bring disgrace. This comes from one who will make good what he has written."

  On the first perusal of a billet so extraordinary, Mowbray was inclinedto set it down to the malice of some of the people at the Well,anonymous letters being no uncommon resource of the small wits whofrequent such places of general resort, as a species of deception safelyand easily executed, and well calculated to produce much mischief andconfusion. But upon closer consideration, he was shaken in this opinion,and, starting suddenly from the reverie into which he had fallen, askedfor the messenger who had brought the letter. "He was in the hall," theservant thought, and Mowbray ran to the hall. No--the messenger was notthere, but Mowbray might see his back as he walked up the avenue.--Hehollo'd--no answer was returned--he ran after the fellow, whoseappearance was that of a countryman. The man quickened his pace as hesaw himself pursued, and when he got out of the avenue, threw himselfinto one of the numerous bypaths which wanderers, who strayed in questof nuts, or for the sake of exercise, had made in various directionsthrough the extensive copse which surrounded the Castle, and weredoubtless the reason of its acquiring the name of Shaws, whichsignifies, in the Scottish dialect, a wood of this description.

  Irritated by the man's obvious desire to avoid him, and naturallyobstinate in all his resolutions, Mowbray pursued for a considerableway, until he fairly lost breath; and the flier having been long out ofsight, he recollected at length that his engagement with the Earl ofEtherington required his attendance at the Castle.

  The young lord, indeed, had arrived at Shaws-Castle, so few minutesafter Mowbray's departure, that it was wonderful they had not met in theavenue. The servant to whom he applied, conceiving that his master mustreturn instantly, as he had gone out without his hat, ushered the Earl,without farther ceremony, into the breakfast-room, where Clara wasseated upon one of the window-seats, so busily employed with a book, orperhaps with her own thoughts while she held a book in her hands, thatshe scarce raised her head, until Lord Etherington, advancing,pronounced the words, "Miss Mowbray." A start, and a loud scream,announced her deadly alarm, and these were repeated as he made one pacenearer, and in a firmer accent said, "Clara."

  "No nearer--no nearer," she exclaimed, "if you would have me look uponyou and live!" Lord Etherington remained standing, as if uncertainwhether to advance or retreat, while with incredible rapidity she pouredout her hurried entreaties that he would begone, sometimes addressinghim as a real personage, sometimes, and more frequently, as a delusivephantom, the offspring of her own excited imagination. "I knew it," shemuttered, "I knew what would happen, if my thoughts were forced intothat fearful channel.--Speak to me, brother! speak to me while I havereason left, and tell me that what stands before me is but an emptyshadow! But it is no shadow--it remains before me in all the lineamentsof mortal substance!"

  "Clara," said the Earl, with a firm, yet softened voice, "collect andcompose yourself. I am, indeed, no shadow--I am a much-injured man, cometo demand rights which have been unjustly withheld from me. I am nowarmed with power as well as justice, and my claims shall be heard."

  "Never--never!" replied Clara Mowbray; "since extremity is my portion,let extremity give me courage.--You have no rights--none--I know younot, and I defy you."

  "Defy me not, Clara Mowbray," answered the Earl, in a tone, and with amanner how different from those which delighted society! for now he wassolemn, tragic, and almost stern, like the judge when he passes sentenceupon a criminal. "Defy me not," he repeated. "I am your Fate, and itrests with you to make me a kind or severe one."

  "Dare you speak thus?" said Clara, her eyes flashing with anger, whileher lips grew white, and quivered for fear--"Dare you speak thus, andremember that the same heaven is above our heads, to which you sosolemnly vowed you would never see me more without my own consent?"

  "That vow was conditional--Francis Tyrrel, as he calls himself, sworethe same--hath _he_ not seen you?" He fixed a piercing look on her; "Hehas--you dare not disown it!--And shall an oath, which to him is but acobweb, be to me a shackle of iron?"

  "Alas! it was but for a moment," said Miss Mowbray, sinking in courage,and drooping her head as she spoke.

  "Were it but the twentieth part of an instant--the least conceivablespace of subdivided time--still, you _did_ meet--he saw you--you spoketo him. And me also you must see--me also you must hear! Or I will firstclaim you for my own in the face of the world; and, having vindicated myrights, I will seek out and extinguish the wretched rival who has daredto interfere with them."

  "Can you speak thus?" said Clara--"can you so burst through the ties ofnature?--Have you a heart!"

  "I have; and it shall be moulded like wax to your slightest wishes, ifyou agree to do me justice; but not granite, nor aught else that naturehas of hardest, will be more inflexible if you continue an uselessopposition!--Clara Mowbray, I am your Fate."

  "Not so, proud man," said Clara, rising, "God gave not one potsherd thepower to break another, save by his divine permission--my fate is in thewill of Him, without whose will even a sparrow falls not to theground.--Begone--I am strong in faith of heavenly protection."

  "Do you speak thus in sincerity?" said the Earl of Etherington;"consider first what is the prospect before you. I stand here in nodoubtful or ambiguous character--I offer not the mere name of ahusband--propose to you not a humble lot of obscurity and hardship, withfears for the past and doubts for the future; yet there _was_ a timewhen to a suit like this you could listen favourably.--I stand highamong the nobles of the country, and offer you, as my bride, your sharein my honours, and in the wealth which becomes them.--Your brother is myfriend, and favours my suit. I will raise from the ground, and once morerender illustrious, your ancient house--your motions shall be regulatedby your wishes, even by your caprices--I will even carry my self-denialso far, that you shall, should you insist on so severe a measure, haveyour own residence, your own establishment, and without intrusion on mypart, until the most devoted love, the most unceasing attentions, shallmake way on your inflexible disposition.--All this I will consent to forthe future--all that is past shall be concealed from the public.--Butmine, Clara Mowbray, you must be."

  "Never--never!" she said with increasing vehemence. "I can but repeat anegative, but it shall have all the force of an oath.--Your rank isnothing to me--your fortune I scorn--my brother has no right, by the lawof Scotland, or of nature, to compel my inclinations.--I detest yourtreachery, and I scorn the advantage you propose to attain byit.--Should the
law give you my hand, it would but award you that of acorpse."

  "Alas! Clara," said the Earl, "you do but flutter in the net; but I willurge you no farther, now--there is another encounter before me."

  He was turning away, when Clara, springing forward, caught him by thearm, and repeated, in a low and impressive voice, the commandment,--"Thoushalt do no murder!"

  "Fear not any violence," he said, softening his voice, and attempting totake her hand, "but what may flow from your own severity.--Francis issafe from me, unless you are altogether unreasonable.--Allow me but whatyou cannot deny to any friend of your brother, the power of seeing youat times--suspend at least the impetuosity of your dislike to me, and Iwill, on my part, modify the current of my just and otherwiseuncontrollable resentment."

  Clara, extricating herself, and retreating from him, only replied,"There is a Heaven above us, and THERE shall be judged our actionstowards each other! You abuse a power most treacherously obtained--youbreak a heart that never did you wrong--you seek an alliance with awretch who only wishes to be wedded to her grave.--If my brother bringsyou hither, I cannot help it--and if your coming prevents bloody andunnatural violence, it is so far well.--But by my consent you come_not_; and, were the choice mine, I would rather be struck withlife-long blindness, than that my eyes should again open on yourperson--rather that my ears were stuffed with the earth of the grave,than that they should again hear your voice!"

  The Earl of Etherington smiled proudly, and replied, "Even this, madam,I can hear without resentment. Anxious and careful as you are to depriveyour compliance of every grace and of every kindness, I receive thepermission to wait on you, as I interpret your words."

  "Do not so interpret them," she replied; "I do but submit to yourpresence as an unavoidable evil. Heaven be my witness, that, were it notto prevent greater and more desperate evil, I would not even so faracquiesce."

  "Let acquiescence, then, be the word," he said; "and so thankful will Ibe, even for your acquiescence, Miss Mowbray, that all shall remainprivate, which I conceive you do not wish to be disclosed; and, unlessabsolutely compelled to it in self-defence, you may rely, no violencewill be resorted to by me in any quarter.--I relieve you from mypresence."

  So saying, he withdrew from the apartment.