Foul Play

  CHAPTER LI.

  AT this fearful insult Helen drew back from her father with a cry ofdismay, and then moved toward Hazel with her hands extended, as if toguard him from another blow, and at the same time deprecate hisresentment. But then she saw his dejected attitude; and she stoodconfounded, looking from one to the other.

  "I knew him in a moment by his beard," said the general coolly.

  "Ah!" cried Helen, and stood transfixed. She glared at Hazel and hisbeard with dilating eyes, and began to tremble.

  Then she crept back to her father and held him tight; but still lookedover her shoulder at Hazel with dilating eyes and paling cheek.

  As for Hazel, his deportment all this time went far toward convictinghim; he leaned against the side of the cave and hung his head in silence,and his face was ashy pale. When General Rolleston saw his deep distress,and the sudden terror and repugnance the revelation seemed to create inhis daughter's mind, he felt sorry he had gone so far, and said: "Well,well; it is not for me to judge you harshly; for you have laid me under adeep obligation. And, after all, I can see good reasons why you shouldconceal your name from other people. But you ought to have told mydaughter the truth."

  Helen interrupted him; or, rather, she seemed unconscious he wasspeaking. She had never for an instant taken her eye off the culprit. Andnow she spoke to him.

  "Who, and what are you, sir?"

  "My name is Robert Penfold."

  "Penfold! Seaton!" cried Helen. "Alias upon alias!" And she turned to herfather in despair. Then to Hazel again. "Are you what papa says?"

  "I am."

  "Oh, papa! papa!" cried Helen, "then there is no truth nor honesty in allthe world!" And she turned her back on Robert Penfold, and cried andsobbed upon her father's breast.

  Oh, the amazement and anguish of that hour! The pure affection andreverence that would have blessed a worthy man, wasted on a convict! Herheart's best treasures flung on a dunghill! This is a woman's greatestloss on earth. And Helen sank, and sobbed under it.

  General Rolleston, whose own heart was fortified, took a shallow view ofthe situation; and, moreover, Helen's face was hidden on his bosom; andwhat he saw was Hazel's manly and intelligent countenance pale anddragged with agony and shame.

  "Come, come," he said, gently, "don't cry about it; it is not your fault.And don't be too hard on the man. You told me he had saved your life."

  "Would he had not!" said the sobbing girl.

  "There, Seaton," said the general, "Now you see the consequences ofdeceit; it wipes out the deepest obligations." He resumed, in a differenttone, "But not with me. This is a woman; but I am a man, and know how abad man could have abused the situation in which I found you two."

  "Not worse than he has done," cried Helen.

  "What do you tell me, girl!" said General Rolleston, beginning to tremblein his turn.

  "What could he do worse than steal my esteem and veneration, and drag myheart's feelings in the dirt? Oh, where--where--can I ever look for aguide, instructor, and faithful friend, after this? He seemed all truth;and he is all a lie. The world is all a lie. Would I could leave it thismoment!"

  "This is all romantic nonsense," said General Rolleston, beginning to beangry. "You are a little fool, and in your ignorance and innocence haveno idea how well this young fellow has behaved on the whole. I tell youthat, in spite of this one fault, I should like to shake him by the hand.I will, too; and then admonish him afterward."

  "You shall not. You shall not," cried Helen, seizing him almost violentlyby the arm. "You take him by the hand! A monster! How dare you steal intomy esteem? How dare you be a miracle of goodness, self-denial, learning,and every virtue that a lady might worship and thank God for, when allthe time you are a vile, convicted--"

  "I'll thank you not to say that word," said Hazel, firmly.

  "I'll call you what you are, if I choose," said Helen, defiantly. But forall that she did not do it. She said piteously, "What offense had I evergiven you? What crime had I ever committed, that you must make me thevictim of this diabolical deceit? Oh, sir, what powers of mind you havewasted to achieve this victory over a poor unoffending girl! What wasyour motive? What good could come of it to you? He won't speak to me. Heis not even penitent. Sullen and obstinate! He shall be taken to England,and well punished for it. Papa, it is your duty."

  "Helen," said the general, "you ladies are rather too fond of hitting aman when he is down. And you speak daggers, as the saying is; and thenwish you had bitten your tongue off sooner. You are my child, but you arealso a British subject; and, if you charge me on my duty to take this manto England and have him imprisoned, I must. But, before you go thatlength, you had better hear the whole story."

  "Sir," said Robert Penfold, quietly, "I will go back to prison thisminute, if she wishes it."

  "How dare you interrupt papa," said Helen, haughtily, but with a greatsob.

  "Come, come," said the general, "be quiet, both of you, and let me say mysay." (To Robert.) "You had better turn your head away, for I am astraightforward man, and I'm going to show her you are not a villain, buta madman. This Robert Penfold wrote me a letter, imploring me to find himsome honest employment, however menial. That looked well, and I made himmy gardener. He was a capital gardener; but one fine day he caught sightof you. _You_ are a very lovely girl, though you don't seem to know it;and _he_ is a madman; and he fell in love with you." Helen uttered anejaculation of great surprise. The general resumed: "He can only haveseen you at a distance, or you would recognize him; but (really it islaughable) he saw you somehow, though you did not see him, and-- Well,his insanity hurt himself, and did not hurt you. You remember how hesuspected burglars, and watched night after night under your window. Thatwas out of love for you. His insanity took the form of fidelity andhumble devotion. He got a wound for his pains, poor fellow! and you madeArthur Wardlaw get him a clerk's place."

  "Arthur Wardlaw!" cried Seaton. "Was it to him I owed it?" and he groanedaloud.

  Said Helen: "He hates poor Arthur, his benefactor." Then to Penfold: "Ifyou are that James Seaton, you received a letter from me."

  "I did," said Penfold; and, putting his hand in his bosom, he drew out aletter and showed it her.

  "Let me see it," said Helen.

  "Oh, no! don't take this from me, too," said he, piteously.

  General Rolleston continued. "The day you sailed he disappeared; and I amafraid not without some wild idea of being in the same ship with you.This was very reprehensible. Do you hear, young man? But what is theconsequence? You get shipwrecked together, and the young madman takessuch care of you that I find you well and hearty, and calling him yourguardian angel. And--another thing to his credit--he has set his wits towork to restore you to the world. These ducks, one of which brings mehere? Of course it was he who contrived that, not you. Young man, youmust learn to look things in the face; this young lady is not of yoursphere, to begin; and, in the next place, she is engaged to Mr. ArthurWardlaw; and I am come out in his steamboat to take her to him. And asfor you, Helen, take my advice; think what most convicts are, compared tothis one. Shut your eyes entirely to his folly as I shall; and let youand I think only of his good deeds, and so make him all the return wecan. You and I will go on board the steamboat directly; and, when we arethere, we can tell Moreland there is somebody else on the island." Hethen turned to Penfold, and said: "My daughter and I will keep in theafter-part of the vessel, and anybody that likes can leave the ship atValparaiso. Helen, I know it is wrong; but what can I do?--I am so happy.You are alive and well; how can I punish or afflict a human creatureto-day? and, above all, how can I crush this unhappy young man, withoutwhom I should never have seen you again in this world? My daughter! mydear lost child!"

  And he held her at arm's length and gazed at her, and then drew her tohis bosom; and for him Robert Penfold ceased to exist, except as a manthat had saved his daughter.

  "Papa," said Helen, after a long pause, "just make him tell why he couldnot trust to me. Why, he passed hi
mself off to me for a clergyman."

  "I am a clergyman," said Robert Penfold.

  "Oh!" said Helen, shocked to find him so hardened, as she thought. Shelifted her hands to heaven, and the tears streamed from her eyes. "Well,sir," said she, faintly, "I see I cannot reach your conscience. Onequestion more and then I have done with you forever. Why in all thesemonths that we have been alone, and that you have shown me the nature, Idon't say of an honest man, but of an angel--yes, papa, of an angel--whycould you not show me one humble virtue, sincerity? It belongs to a man.Why could you not say, 'I have committed one crime in my life, butrepented forever; judge by this confession, and by what you have seen ofme, whether I shall ever commit another. Take me as I am, and esteem meas a penitent and more worthy man; but I will not deceive you and passfor a paragon.' Why could you not say as much as this to me? If you lovedme, why deceive me so cruelly?"

  These words, uttered no longer harshly, but in a mournful, faint,despairing voice, produced an effect the speaker little expected. RobertPenfold made two attempts to speak, but though he opened his mouth, andhis lips quivered, he could get no word out. He began to choke withemotion; and, though he shed no tears, the convulsion that goes withweeping in weaker natures overpowered him in a way that was almostterrible.

  "Confound it!" said General Rolleston, "this is monstrous of you, Helen;it is barbarous. You are not like your poor mother."

  She was pale and trembling, and the tears flowing; but she showed hernative obstinacy. She said hoarsely: "Papa, you are blind. He _must_answer me. He knows he must!"

  "I must," said Robert Penfold, gasping still. Then he manned himself by amighty effort, and repeated with dignity, "I will."

  There was a pause while the young man still struggled for composure andself-command.

  "Was I not often on the point of telling you my sad story? Then is itfair to say that I should never have told it you? But, oh, MissRolleston, you don't know what agony it may be to an unfortunate man totell the truth. There are accusations so terrible, so _defiling,_ that,when a man has proved them false, they still stick to him and soil him.Such an accusation I labor under, and a judge and a jury have branded me.If they had called me a murderer, I would have told you; but _that_ issuch a dirty crime. I feared the prejudices of the world. I dreaded tosee your face alter to me. Yes, I trembled, and hesitated, and askedmyself whether a man is bound to repeat a foul slander against himself,even when thirteen shallow men have said it, and made the lie law."

  "There," said General Rolleston, "I thought how it would be, Helen; youhave tormented him into defending himself, tooth and nail; so now weshall have the old story; he is innocent; I never knew a convict thatwasn't, if he found a fool to listen to him. I decline to hear anotherword. You needn't excuse yourself for changing your name; I excuse it,and that is enough. But the boat is waiting, and we can't stay to hearyou justify a felony."

  "I AM NOT A FELON. I AM A MARTYR."