CHAPTER LIV.
WHILE the boat was going to the _Springbok,_ General Rolleston whisperedto Captain Moreland; and what he said may be almost guessed from whatoccurred on board the steamer soon afterward. Helen was carried tremblinginto the cabin, and the order was given to heave the anchor and get underway. A groan of disappointment ran through the ship; Captain Morelandexpressed the general's regret to the men, and divided two hundred poundsupon the capstan; and the groan ended in a cheer.
As for Helen's condition, that was at first mistaken for ill health. Sheburied herself for two whole days in her cabin; and from that place faintmoans were heard now and then. The sailors called her the sick lady.
Heaven knows what she went through in that forty-eight hours.
She came upon deck at last in a strange state of mind and body; restless,strung up, absorbed. The rare vigor she had acquired on the island cameout now with a vengeance. She walked the deck with briskness, and apertinacity that awakened admiration in the crew at first, but by and bysuperstitious awe. For, while the untiring feet went briskly to and froover leagues and leagues of plank every day, the great hazel eyes wereturned inward, and the mind, absorbed with one idea, skimmed the men andthings about her listlessly.
She had a mission to fulfill, and her whole nature was stringing itselfup to do the work.
She walked so many miles a day, partly from excitement, partly with adeliberate resolve to cherish her health and strength; "I may want themboth," said she, "to clear Robert Penfold." Thought and high purposeshone through her so, that after a while nobody dared trouble her muchwith commonplaces. To her father, she was always sweet and filial, butsadly cold compared with what she had always been hitherto. He was takingher body to England, but her heart stayed behind upon that island. He sawthis, and said it.
"Forgive me," said she, coldly; and that was all her reply.
Sometimes she had violent passions of weeping; and then he would endeavorto console her; but in vain. They ran their course, and were succeeded bythe bodily activity and concentration of purpose they had interrupted fora little while.
At last, after a rapid voyage, they drew near the English coast; and thenGeneral Rolleston, who had hitherto spared her feelings, and been mostindulgent and considerate, felt it was high time to come to anunderstanding with her as to the course they should both pursue.
"Now, Helen," said he, "about the Wardlaws!"
Helen gave a slight shudder. But she said, after a slight hesitation,"Let me know your wishes."
"Oh, mine are not to be too ungrateful to the father, and not to deceivethe son."
"I will not be ungrateful to the father, nor deceive the son," saidHelen, firmly.
The general kissed her on the brow, and called her his brave girl. "But,"said he, "on the other hand, it must not be published that you have beenfor eight months on an island alone with a convict. Anything sooner thanthat. You know the malice of your own sex; if one woman gets hold ofthat, you will be an outcast from society."
Helen blushed and trembled. "Nobody need be told that but Arthur; and Iam sure he loves me well enough not to injure me with the world."
"But he would be justified in declining your hand, after such arevelation."
"Quite. And I hope he will decline it when he knows I love another,however hopelessly."
"You are going to tell Arthur Wardlaw all that?"
"I am."
"Then all I can say is, you are not like other women."
"I have been brought up by a man."
"If I was Arthur Wardlaw, it would be the last word you should ever speakto me."
"If you were Arthur Wardlaw, I should be on that dear island now."
"Well, suppose his love should be greater than his spirit, and--"
"If he does not go back when he hears of my hopeless love, I don't seehow I can. I shall marry him; and try with all my soul to love him. I'llopen every door in London to Robert Penfold; except one; my husband's.And that door, while I live, he shall never enter. Oh, my heart; myheart!" She burst out sobbing desperately. And her father laid her headupon his bosom, and sighed deeply, and asked himself how all this wouldend.
Before they landed, her fortitude seemed to return; and of her own accordshe begged her father to telegraph to the Wardlaws.
"Would you not like a day to compose yourself, and prepare for thistrying interview?" said he.
"I should. But it is mere weakness. And I must cure myself of myweakness, or I shall never clear Robert Penfold. And then, papa, I thinkof you. If old Mr. Wardlaw heard you had been a day in town, you mightsuffer in his good opinion. We shall be in London at seven. Ask them ateight. That will be one hour's respite. God help me, and strengthen poorArthur to bear the blow I bring him!"
Long before eight o'clock that day, Arthur Wardlaw had passed from astate of somber misery and remorse to one of joy, exultation and unmixedhappiness. He no longer regretted his crime, nor the loss of the_Proserpine._ Helen was alive and well, and attributed not her danger,but only her preservation, to the Wardlaws.
Wardlaw senior kept his carriage in town, and precisely at eight o'clockthey drove up to the door of the hotel.
They followed the servant with bounding hearts, and rushed into the roomwhere the general and Helen stood ready to receive them. Old Wardlaw wentto the general with both hands out, and so the general met him, andbetween these two it was almost an embrace. Arthur ran to Helen withcries of joy and admiration, and kissed her hands again and again, andshed such genuine tears of joy over them that she trembled all over andwas obliged to sit down. He kneeled at her feet, and still imprisoned onehand, and mumbled it, while she turned her head away and held her otherhand before her face to hide its real expression, which was a mixture ofpity and repugnance. But, as her face was hidden, and her eloquent bodyquivered, and her hand was not withdrawn, it seemed a sweet picture offeminine affection to those who had not the key.
At last she was relieved from a most embarrassing situation by oldWardlaw; he cried out on this monopoly, and Helen instantly darted out ofher chair, and went to him, and put up her cheek to him, which he kissed;and then she thanked him warmly for his courage in not despairing of herlife, and his goodness in sending out a ship for her.
Now, the fact is, she could not feel grateful; but she knew she ought tobe grateful, and she was ashamed to show no feeling at all in return forso much; so she was eloquent, and the old gentleman was naturally verymuch pleased at first; but he caught an expression of pain on Arthur'sface, and then he stopped her. "My dear," said he, "you ought to thankArthur, not me; it is his love for you which was the cause of my zeal. Ifyou owe me anything, pay it to him, for he deserves it best. He nearlydied for you, my sweet girl. No, no, you mustn't hang your head for that,neither. What a fool I am to revive old sorrows! Here we are, thehappiest four in England." Then he whispered to her, "Be kind to poorArthur, that is all I ask. His very life depends on you."
Helen obeyed this order, and went slowly back to Arthur; she sat, cold asice, on the sofa beside him, and he made love to her. She scarcely heardwhat he said; she was asking herself how she could end this intolerableinterview, and escape her father's looks, who knew the real state of herheart.
At last she rose, and went and whispered to him: "My courage has failedme. Have pity on me, and get me away. It is the old man; he kills me."
General Rolleston took the hint, and acted with more tact than one wouldhave given him credit for. He got up and rang the bell for tea. Then hesaid to Helen, "You don't drink tea now, and I see you are excited morethan is good for you. You had better go to bed."
"Yes, papa," said Helen.
She took her candle, and, as she passed young Wardlaw, she told him, in alow voice, she would be glad to speak to him alone to-morrow.
"At what hour?" said he eagerly.
"When you like. At one."
And so she retired, leaving him in ecstasies. This was the firstdownright assignation she had ever made with him.
The
y met at one o'clock; he radiant as the sun, and a rose in hisbutton-hole; she sad and somber, and with her very skin twitching at thethought of the explanation she had to go through.
He began with amorous commonplaces; she stopped him, gravely.
"Arthur," said she, "you and I are alone now, and I have a confession tomake. Unfortunately, I must cause you pain--terrible pain. Oh, my heartflinches at the wound I am going to give you; but it is my fate either towound you or to deceive you."
During this preamble, Arthur sat amazed rather than alarmed. He did notinterrupt her, though she paused, and would gladly have been interrupted,since an interruption is an assistance in perplexities.
"Arthur, we suffered great hardships on the boat, and you would have lostme but for one person. He saved my life again and again; I saved his uponthe island. My constancy was subject to trials--oh such trials! So greatan example of every manly virtue forever before my eyes! My gratitude andmy pity eternally pleading! England and you seemed gone forever. Makeexcuses for me if you can. Arthur--I--I have formed an attachment."
In making this strange avowal she hung her head and blushed, and thetears ran down her cheeks. But we suspect they ran for _him,_ and not forArthur.
Arthur turned deadly sick at this tremendous blow, dealt with so soft ahand. At last he gasped out, "If you marry him, you will bury me."
"No, Arthur," said Helen, gently; "I could not marry him, even if youwere to permit me. When you know more, you will see that, of us threeunhappy ones, you are the least unhappy. But, since this is so, am Iwrong to tell you the truth, and leave you to decide whether ourengagement ought to continue? Of course, what I have owned to youreleases you."
"Releases me! but it does not unbind my heart from yours," cried Arthur,in despair.
Then his hysterical nature came out, and he was so near fainting awaythat Helen sprinkled water on his temples, and applied eau-de-cologne tohis nostrils, and murmured, "Poor, poor Arthur! Oh, was I born only toafflict those I esteem?"
He saw her with the tears of pity in her eyes, and he caught her hand,and said, "You were always the soul of honor; keep faith with me, and Iwill cure you of that unhappy attachment."
"What! Do you hold me to my engagement after what I have told you?"
"Cruel Helen! you know I have not the power to hold you."
"I am not cruel; and you have the power. But oh, think! For your ownsake, not mine."
"I have thought; and this attachment to a man you cannot marry is a meremisfortune--yours as well as mine. Give me your esteem until your lovecomes back, and let our engagement continue."
"It was for you to decide," said Helen, coldly, "and you have decided.There is one condition I must ask you to submit to."
"I submit to it."
"What, before you hear it?"
"Helen, you don't know what a year of misery I have endured, ever sincethe report came of your death. My happiness is cruelly dashed now, butstill it is great happiness by comparison. Make your conditions. You aremy queen, as well as my love and my life."
Helen hesitated. It shocked her delicacy to lower the man she hadconsented to marry.
"Oh, Helen," said Arthur, "anything but secrets between you and me. Go onas you have begun, and let me know the worst at once."
"Can you be very generous, Arthur?--generous to him who has caused you somuch pain?"
"I'll try," said Arthur, with a groan.
"I would not marry him, unless you gave me up. For I am your betrothed,and you are true to me. I _could_ not marry him, even if I were notpledged to you; but it so happens, I can do him one great service withoutinjustice to you; and this service I have vowed to do before I marry. Ishall keep that vow, as I keep faith with you. He has been driven fromsociety by a foul slander; that slander I am to sift and confute. It willbe long and difficult; but I shall do it; and you could help me if youchose. But that I will not be so cruel as to ask."
Arthur bit his lip with jealous rage; but he was naturally cunning, andhis cunning showed him there was at present but one road to Helen'sheart. He quelled his torture as well as he could, and resolved to takethat road. He reflected a moment, and then he said:
"If you succeed in that, will you marry me next day?"
"I will, upon my honor."
"Then I will help you."
"Arthur, think what you say. Women have loved as unselfishly as this; butno man, that ever I heard of."
"No man ever did love a woman as I love you. Yes, I would rather helpyou, though with a sore heart, than hold aloof from you. What have we todo together?"
"Did I not tell you?--to clear his character of a foul stigma, andrestore him to England, and to the world which he is so fitted to adorn."
"Yes, yes," said Arthur; "but who is it? Why do I ask, though? He must bea stranger to me."
"No stranger at all," said Helen; "but one who is almost as unjust to youas the world has been to him;" then, fixing her eyes full on him, shesaid, "Arthur, it is your old friend and tutor, Robert Penfold."