Devereux — Complete

  CHAPTER IX.

  A DISCOVERY AND A DEPARTURE.

  I HASTENED home after my eventful interview with Isora, and gave myselfup to tumultuous and wild conjecture. Aubrey sought me the next morning:I narrated to him all that had occurred: he said little, but that littleenraged me, for it was contrary to the dictates of my own wishes. Thecharacter of Morose in the "Silent Woman" is by no means an uncommonone. Many men--certainly many lovers--would say with equal truth, alwaysprovided they had equal candour, "All discourses but my own afflictme; they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome." Certainly I felt thatamiable sentiment most sincerely with regard to Aubrey. I left himabruptly: a resolution possessed me. "I will see," said I, "thisBarnard; I will lie in wait for him; I will demand and obtain, thoughit be by force, the secret which evidently subsists between him and thisexiled family."

  Full of this idea, I drew my cloak round me, and repaired on foot to theneighbourhood of the Spaniard's cottage. There was no place near it verycommodious for accommodation both of vigil and concealment. However, Imade a little hill, in a field opposite the house, my warder's station,and, lying at full length on the ground, wrapt in my cloak, I trusted toescape notice. The day passed: no visitor appeared. The next morning Iwent from my own rooms, through the subterranean passage into the castlecave, as the excavation I have before described was generally termed.On the shore I saw Gerald by one of the small fishing-boats usually keptthere. I passed him with a sneer at his amusements, which were alwaysthose of conflicts against fish or fowl. He answered me in the samestrain, as he threw his nets into the boat, and pushed out to sea. "Howis it that you go alone?" said I; "is there so much glory in the captureof mackerel and dogfish that you will allow no one to share it?"

  "There are other sports besides those for men," answered Gerald,colouring indignantly: "my taste is confined to amusements in which heis but a fool who seeks companionship; and if you could read characterbetter, my wise brother, you would know that the bold rover is ever lessidle and more fortunate than the speculative dreamer."

  As Gerald said this, which he did with a significant emphasis, he rowedvigorously across the water, and the little boat was soon half way tothe opposite islet. My eyes followed it musingly as it glided over thewaves, and my thoughts painfully revolved the words which Gerald haduttered. "What can he mean?" said I, half aloud; "yet what matters it?Perhaps some low amour, some village conquest, inspires him with thatbecoming fulness of pride and vain-glory; joy be with so bold a rover!"and I strode away along the beach towards my place of watch; once only Iturned to look at Gerald; he had then just touched the islet, whichwas celebrated as much for the fishing it afforded as the smuggling itprotected.

  I arrived at last at the hillock, and resumed my station. Time passedon, till, at the dusk of evening, the Spaniard came out. He walkedslowly towards the town; I followed him at a distance. Just before hereached the town, he turned off by a path which led to the beach. As theevening was unusually fresh and chill, I felt convinced that some cause,not wholly trivial, drew the Spaniard forth to brave it. My pride alittle revolted at the idea of following him; but I persuaded myselfthat Isora's happiness, and perhaps her father's safety, depended on myobtaining some knowledge of the character and designs of this Barnard,who appeared to possess so dangerous an influence over both daughter andsire; nor did I doubt but that the old man was now gone forth to meethim. The times were those of mystery and of intrigue: the emissaries ofthe House of Stuart were restlessly at work among all classes; many ofthem, obscure and mean individuals, made their way the more dangerouslyfrom their apparent insignificance. My uncle, a moderate Tory, wasopposed, though quietly and without vehemence, to the claims of thebanished House. Like Sedley, who became so stanch a revolutionist,he had seen the Court of Charles II. and the character of that King'sbrother too closely to feel much respect for either; but he thought itindecorous to express opposition loudly against a party among whom weremany of his early friends; and the good old knight was too much attachedto private ties to be very much alive to public feeling. However, athis well-filled board, conversation, generally, though displeasingly tohimself, turned upon politics, and I had there often listened, oflate, to dark hints of the danger to which we were exposed, and of therestless machinations of the Jacobites. I did not, therefore, scruple tosuspect this Barnard of some plot against the existing state, and I didit the more from observing that the Spaniard often spoke bitterly of theEnglish Court, which had rejected some claims he had imagined himselfentitled to make upon it; and that he was naturally of a tempervehemently opposed to quiet and alive to enterprise. With thisimpression, I deemed it fair to seize any opportunity of seeing, atleast, even if I could not question, the man whom the Spaniard himselfconfessed to have state reasons for concealment; and my anxiety tobehold one whose very name could agitate Isora, and whose presence couldoccasion the state in which I had found her, sharpened this desire intothe keenness of a passion.

  While Alvarez descended to the beach, I kept the upper path, which woundalong the cliff. There was a spot where the rocks were rude and brokeninto crags, and afforded me a place where, unseen, I could behold whatpassed below. The first thing I beheld was a boat approaching rapidlytowards the shore; one man was seated in it; he reached the shore, and Irecognized Gerald. That was a dreadful moment. Alvarez now slowly joinedhim; they remained together for nearly an hour. I saw Gerald give theSpaniard a letter, which appeared to make the chief subject of theirconversation. At length they parted, with the signs rather of respectthan familiarity. Don Diego returned homeward, and Gerald re-entered theboat. I watched its progress over the waves with feelings of a dark andalmost unutterable nature. "My enemy! my rival! ruiner of my hopes!--_mybrother_!--_my twin brother_!" I muttered bitterly between my groundteeth.

  The boat did not make to the open sea: it skulked along the shore, tilldistance and shadow scarcely allowed me to trace the outline of Gerald'sfigure. It then touched the beach, and I could just descry the dim shapeof another man enter; and Gerald, instead of returning homewards, pushedout towards the islet. I spent the greater part of the night in the openair. Wearied and exhausted by the furious indulgence of my passions,I gained my room at length. There, however, as elsewhere, thoughtsucceeded to thought, and scheme to scheme. Should I speak to Gerald?Should I confide in Alvarez? Should I renew my suit to Isora? If thefirst, what could I hope to learn from my enemy? If the second, whatcould I gain from the father, while the daughter remained averse to me?If the third,--there my heart pointed, and the third scheme I resolvedto adopt.

  But was I sure that Gerald was this Barnard? Might there not be somehope that he was not? No, I could perceive none. Alvarez had neverspoken to me of acquaintance with any other Englishman than Barnard;I had no reason to believe that he ever held converse with any other.Would it not have been natural too, unless some powerful cause, suchas love to Isora, induced silence,--would it not have been natural thatGerald should have mentioned his acquaintance with the Spaniard? Unlesssome dark scheme, such as that which Barnard appeared to have in commonwith Don Diego, commanded obscurity, would it have been likely thatGerald should have met Alvarez alone,--at night,--on an unfrequentedspot? What that scheme _was_, I guessed not,--I cared not. All myinterest in the identity of Barnard with Gerald Devereux was thatderived from the power he seemed to possess over Isora. Here, too, atonce, was explained the pretended Barnard's desire of concealment, andthe vigilance with which it had been effected. It was so certain thatGerald, if my rival, would seek to avoid me; it was so easy for him,who could watch all my motions, to secure the power of doing so. ThenI remembered Gerald's character through the country as a gallant and ageneral lover; and I closed my eyes as if to shut out the vision whenI recalled the beauty of his form contrasted with the comparativeplainness of my own.

  "There is no hope," I repeated; and an insensibility, rather than sleep,crept over me. Dreadful and fierce dreams peopled my slumbers; and, whenI started from them at a late hour the next day, I was unable to
risefrom my bed: my agitation and my wanderings had terminated in a burningfever. In four days, however, I recovered sufficiently to mount myhorse: I rode to the Spaniard's house; I found there only the woman whohad been Don Diego's solitary domestic. The morning before, Alvarez andhis daughter had departed, none knew for certain whither; but it wassupposed their destination was London. The woman gave me a note: it wasfrom Isora; it contained only these lines:

  Forget me: we are now parted forever. As you value my peace of mind--ofhappiness I do not speak--seek not to discover our next retreat. Iimplore you to think no more of what has been; you are young, veryyoung. Life has a thousand paths for you; any one of them will lead youfrom remembrance of me. Farewell, again and again!

  ISORA D'ALVAREZ.

  With this note was another, in French, from Don Diego: it was colder andmore formal than I could have expected; it thanked me for my attentionstowards him; it regretted that he could not take leave of me in person,and it enclosed the sum by the loan of which our acquaintance hadcommenced.

  "It is well!" said I, calmly, to myself, "it is well; I will forgether:" and I rode instantly home. "But," I resumed in my soliloquy, "Iwill yet strive to obtain confirmation to what perhaps needs it not.I will yet strive to see if Gerald can deny the depth of his injuriestowards me; there will be at least some comfort in witnessing either hisdefiance or his confusion."

  Agreeably to this thought, I hastened to seek Gerald. I found him inhis apartment; I shut the door, and seating myself, with a smile thusaddressed him,--

  "Dear Gerald, I have a favour to ask of you."

  "What is it?"

  "How long have you known a certain Mr. Barnard?" Gerald changed colour;his voice faltered as he repeated the name "Barnard!"

  "Yes," said I, with affected composure, "Barnard! a great friend of DonDiego D'Alvarez."

  "I perceive," said Gerald, collecting himself, "that you are in somemeasure acquainted with my secret: how far it is known to you I cannotguess; but I tell you, very fairly, that from me you will not increasethe sum of your knowledge."

  When one is in a good sound rage, it is astonishing how calm one can be!I was certainly somewhat amazed by Gerald's hardihood and assurance, butI continued, with a smile,

  "And Donna Isora, how long, if not very intrusive on your confidence,have you known her?"

  "I tell you," answered Gerald, doggedly, "that I will answer noquestions."

  "You remember the old story," returned I, "of the two brothers, Eteoclesand Polynices, whose very ashes refused to mingle; faith, Gerald, ourlove seems much of the same sort. I know not if our ashes will exhibitso laudible an antipathy: but I think our hearts and hands will do sowhile a spark of life animates them; yes, though our blood" (I added,in a voice quivering with furious emotion) "prevents our contest by thesword, it prevents not the hatred and the curses of the heart."

  Gerald turned pale. "I do not understand you," he faltered out,--"I knowyou abhor me; but why, why this excess of malice?"

  I cast on him a look of bitter scorn, and turned from the room.

  It is not pleasing to place before the reader these dark passages offraternal hatred: but in the record of all passions there is a moral;and it is wise to see to how vast a sum the units of childish animosityswell, when they are once brought into a heap, by some violent event,and told over by the nice accuracy of Revenge.

  But I long to pass from these scenes, and my history is about to glidealong others of more glittering and smiling aspect. Thank Heaven, Iwrite a tale, not only of love, but of a life; and that which I cannotavoid I can at least condense.