Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  CHARLES'S EXPLANATION WITH LORD WELTER.

  There is a particular kind of Ghost, or Devil, which is represented byan isosceles triangle (more or less correctly drawn) for the body;straight lines turned up at the ends for legs; straight lines dividedinto five at the ends for arms; a round O, with arbitrary dots for thefeatures, for a head; with a hat, an umbrella, and a pipe. Drawn likethis, it is a sufficiently terrible object. But, if you take an ace ofclubs, make the club represent the head, add horns, and fill in the bodyand limbs as above, in deep black, with the feather end of the pen, itbecomes simply appalling, and will strike terror into the stoutestheart.

  Is this the place, say you, for talking such nonsense as this; If youmust give us balderdash of this sort, could not you do so in a chapterwith a less terrible heading than this one has? And I answer, Why notlet me tell my story my own way? Something depends even on this nonsenseof making devils out of the ace of clubs.

  It was rather a favourite amusement of Charles's and Lord Welter's, inold times at Ranford. They used, on rainy afternoon's, to collect allthe old aces of clubs (and there were always plenty of them to be had inthat house, God help it), and make devils out of them, each one worsethan the first. And now, when Charles had locked the door, and advancedsoftly up to Welter, he saw, over his shoulder, that he had got an aceof clubs, and the pen and ink, and was making a devil.

  It was a trifling circumstance enough, perhaps; but there was enough ofold times in it to alter the tone in which Charles said, "Welter," as helaid his hand on his shoulder.

  Lord Welter was a bully; but he was as brave as a lion, with nerves ofsteel. He neither left off his drawing, nor looked up; he onlysaid--"Charley, boy, come and sit down till I have finished this fellow.Get an ace of clubs and try your own hand. I am out of practice."

  Perhaps even Lord Welter might have started when he heard Charles'svoice, and felt his hand on his shoulder; but he had had oneinstant--only one instant--of preparation. When he heard the key turn inthe door, he had looked in a pier-glass opposite to him, and seen whoand what was coming, and then gone on with his employment. Even allowingfor this moment's preparation, we must give him credit for the nerve ofone man in ten thousand; for the apparition of Charles Ravenshoe was asunlooked-for as that of any one of Charles Ravenshoe's remote ancestors.

  You see, I call him Charles Ravenshoe still. It is a trick. You mustexcuse it.

  Charles did not sit down and draw devils; he said, in a quiet, mournfultone,

  "Welter, Welter, why have you been such a villain?"

  Lord Welter found that a difficult question to answer. He let it alone,and said nothing.

  "I say nothing about Adelaide. You did not use me well there; for, whenyou persuaded her to go off with you, you had not heard of my ruin."

  "On my soul, Charles, there was not much persuasion wanted there."

  "Very likely. I do not want to speak about that, but about Ellen, mysister. Was anything ever done more shamefully than that?"

  Charles expected some furious outbreak when he said that. None came.What was good in Lord Welter came to the surface, when he saw his oldfriend and playmate there before him, sunk so far below him in all thatthis world considers worth having, but rising so far above him in hisfearless honour and manliness. He was humbled, sorry, and ashamed.Bitter as Charles's words were, he felt they were true, and had manhoodenough left not to resent them. To the sensation of fear, as I have saidbefore, Lord Welter was a total stranger, or he might have been nervousat being locked up in a room alone, with a desperate man, physically hisequal, whom he had so shamefully wronged. He rose and leant against thechimney-piece, looking at Charles.

  "I did not know she was your sister, Charles. You must do me thatjustice."

  "Of course you did not. If----"

  "I know what you are going to say--that I should not have dared. On mysoul, Charles, I don't know; I believe I dare do anything. But I tellyou one thing--of all the men who walk this earth, you are the last Iwould willingly wrong. When I went off with Adelaide, I knew she did notcare sixpence for you. I knew she would have made you wretched. I knewbetter than you, because I never was in love with her, and you were,what a heartless ambitious jade it was! She sold herself to me for thetitle I gave her, as she had tried to sell herself to that solemn prigHainault, before. And I bought her, because a handsome, witty, cleverwife is a valuable chattel to a man like me, who has to live by hiswits."

  "Ellen was as handsome and as clever as she. Why did not you marry her?"said Charles, bitterly.

  "If you will have the real truth, Ellen would have been Lady Welter now,but----"

  Lord Welter hesitated. He was a great rascal, and he had a brazen front,but he found a difficulty in going on. It must be, I should fancy, veryhard work to tell all the little ins and outs of a piece of villainy onehas been engaged in, and to tell, as Lord Welter did on this occasion,the exact truth.

  "I am waiting," said Charles, "to hear you tell me why she was not madeLady Welter."

  "What, you will have it, then? Well, she was too scrupulous. She was toohonourable a woman for this line of business. She wouldn't play, orlearn to play--d--n it, sir, you have got the whole truth now, if thatwill content you."

  "I believe what you say, my lord. Do you know that Lieutenant Hornbymade her an offer of marriage to-night?"

  "I supposed he would," said Lord Welter.

  "And that she has refused him?"

  "I guessed that she would. She is your own sister. Shall you try topersuade her?"

  "I would see her in her coffin first."

  "So I suppose."

  "She must come away from here, Lord Welter. I must keep her and do whatI can for her. We must pull through it together, somehow."

  "She had better go from here. She is too good for this hole. I must makeprovision for her to live with you."

  "Not one halfpenny, my lord. She has lived too long in dependence anddisgrace already. We will pull through together alone."

  Lord Welter said nothing, but he determined that Charles should not havehis way in this respect.

  Charles continued, "When I came into this room to-night I came toquarrel with you. You have not allowed me to do so, and I thank you forit." Here he paused, and then went on in a lower voice, "I think you aresorry, Welter; are you not? I am sure you are sorry. I am sure youwouldn't have done it if you had foreseen the consequences, eh?"

  Lord Welter's coarse under-lip shook for half a second, and his bigchest heaved once; but he said nothing.

  "Only think another time; that is all. Now do me a favour; make me apromise."

  "I have made it."

  "Don't tell any human soul you have seen me. If you do, you will onlyentail a new disguise and a new hiding on me. You have promised."

  "On my honour."

  "If you keep your promise I can stay where I am. How is--Lady Ascot?"

  "Well. Nursing my father."

  "Is he ill?"

  "Had a fit the day before yesterday. I heard this morning from them. Heis much better, and will get over it."

  "Have you heard anything from Ravenshoe?"

  "Not a word. Lord Saltire and General Mainwaring are both with myfather, in London. Grandma won't see either me or Adelaide. Do you knowthat she has been moving heaven and earth to find you?"

  "Good soul! I won't be found, though. Now, good-night!"

  And he went. If any one had told him three months before that he wouldhave been locked in the same room with a man who had done him suchirreparable injury, and have left it at the end of half an hour with aquiet "good-night," he would most likely have beaten that man there andthen. But he was getting tamed very fast. Ay, he was already gettingmore than tamed; he was in a fair way to get broken-hearted.

  "I will not see her to-night, sir," he said to Hornby, whom he foundwith his head resting on the table; "I will come to-morrow, and prepareher for leaving this house. You are to see her the day after to-morrow;but without hope, reme
mber."

  He roused a groom from above the stable to help him to saddle thehorses. "Will it soon be morning?" he asked.

  "Morning," said the lad; "it's not twelve o'clock yet. It's a darknight, mate, and no moon. But the nights are short now. The dawn will beon us before we have time to turn in our beds."

  He rode slowly home after Hornby. "The night is dark, but the dawn willbe upon us before we can turn in our beds!" Only the idle words of asleepy groom, yet they echoed in his ears all the way home. The night isdark indeed; but it will be darker yet before the dawn, CharlesRavenshoe.