menu_book Chapter 22

CHAPTER IX. NEWS FROM PLEMETH The price was no subject of debate. The Princess was in ecstasies when she heard that her favourite was alive and might so cheaply be ransomed.

RASALAS CHAPTER XXXVII. Juliana's eyes fell immediately upon Mr. Drain, and the momentary bewilderment in them was succeeded by a look of comprehension. You have come, I suppose, to— She began eagerly, and then perceived that Mr. Drain was not alone.

I did not know that you were in here, papa," she said with obvious discomposure. No, my dear, it is evident that you did not return her parent with meaning. But I think it is just as well that I am. It was plain that Juliana did not share this opinion, nor Mr. Drain either. I understand, resumed his lordship, that this Mr. Drain has come about some matter of engaging

a maidservant from the country. If I may say so, without offence to him, I think you or Mrs. Webber choose strange intermediaries for such a business. I imagine—not that I know anything about it—that such negotiations were usually conducted through the medium of a female.

Neither party gave assent or dissent to this. Mr. Drain was looking agonized. Lord Fulgrave turned to his daughter. Who is this man, Juliana? he demanded, with a manor which, joined to the Arthurian nose, caused Mr. Drain's legs suddenly to tremble beneath him.

I imagine that he came to bring me a message, replied Juliana with fair composure. I had better tell you. I think, papa, because it is a matter in which you are interested too. I hope that this gentleman brings me news from Plymouth. Papa.

Yes, your Ladyship, put in Mr. Drain, encouraged. News for Mr. Creedy. Oh, Juliana's face lit up. She took a step forward. Was it good news at last?

Yes, your Ladyship. And then tell us about it. My father will be delighted to hear it, too. Listen, papa, she said, and clung to his arm. Mr. Drain's demeanour, though still deprecatory, became touched with a consciousness of merit.

Creedy sent word to me, my lady, being his brother-in-law, because he did not like to trust the Post this time. I was to tell your Honourable Ladyship that the— The person in question was got away and brought to his house, as arranged. It was the afternoon of the tenth.

Creedy rigged him out, as you suggested. He looked fine, he said, and no one would have told him from a girl. He left early next morning, and must have got clear away, or Creedy would have heard else. Oh, Creedy gave him a map, Miss—oh, my lady, and every penny of the money provided for

the purpose, and ventures to think it may be counted a good clean job, and not dear at the price. No, no, cried Juliana, her eyes shining, and not dear at any price. And papa, and papa, do you understand? He's got away, he's free, he's out of that horrible ship.

Still hanging on his arm, she raised a glowing face to his unresponsive one. Oh, it is almost too good to be true. And those are all the details you know, Miss De Draene. Oh, that's all the message Creedy sent me, Miss. How but why, if Monsieur de Sablier escaped on the tenth, a week ago, today, has there

been this delay in letting me know it? How the message had to be passed on like, Miss, from one to another, replied Miss De Draene mysteriously. How slower than the post, that is. I understand.

And how soon, after leaving Plymouth, would he get away altogether? Oh, that would depend, my lady, on whether he had to— Am I to understand, broken Viscount Fulgrave, in his House of Lords manner, and that your Frenchman has escaped from the Hawks, and just when it seems clear that, owing to Major Brackenbury's intervention, the Transport Office is on the point of releasing him on

their own initiative, that seems to me singularly unfortunate. Oh, but, pa, do not be so prudent, cried his radiant daughter. I dare say the Transport Office would not have moved for weeks, and every—oh, it seems to me singularly unfortunate—repeated his lordship. And I should like to know how the young man has contrived to let you know about it.

Who is this creed, or Creedy, who rigged him out and provided him with money? A British subject? Why, suppose so, said Julianna lightly. And then I hope he does not realize, said Lord Fulgrave, with majesty. What an unpatriotic, what a shocking thing he has done!

I hope he did it in ignorance. But ignorance will not save him from the penalty of his misconduct, if it is found out. Glad as I should be to know that the young man was released, I do not like to think that any Englishman is so lost to shame as to connive at his escape for money, since that is evidently what it comes to, this job cheap at the price.

You, sir—he addressed the diminishing drain. Beware what you are about. This Creedy has committed felony. It is clearly so laid down by last year's act, and he stands in imminent danger of transportation. You would only if someone informs against him, protested Julianna, recalled to a somewhat

nervous attention. And you would hardly do that, would you, papa, you who realized the horrible injustice of Monsieur de Sabléac's imprisonment. How that has nothing to do with the behavior of this creed, or Creedy, retorted his lordship with truth.

Once more he addressed Mr. Creedy's representative. So situated as I am, feeling a compassionate interest in this young Frenchman, it would be unbecoming of me to take any active steps against this man in Plymouth. But I warn you, I warn you, Mr. Drain, that you are both playing with fire. Tell him that I say so.

You may go. For Mr. Drain's appearance during these last two speeches one would have imagined that he would now bolt gladly for the door. But he did not. He shuffled his feet, looked down, round, and finally at Julianna.

Would your ladyship give me a word alone, he murmured. How certainly not, replied her father. Have you not delivered the message with which you were charged by this miscreant? Yes, my lord, said Mr. Drain meekly. But there still remains.

He gazed agonisely at Julianna. The little matter of the money and the small balance. The balance, exclaimed his lordship. Money, whose money, and what has that to do with us? How it was I who found the money on Monsieur de Sabliac's behalf for Mr. Creedy, announced

Julianna hastily and very pink. It is true that there does remain a small balance due to him, which I had forgotten for the moment. I will fetch it, Mr. Drain. And she went quickly out of the room before her father had recovered from his stupefaction,

sufficiently to stop her, and so light-hearted that the coming reckoning with him did not trouble her much. But she likewise hastened back, because she did not know what, in her absence, papa might not say or do to the poor little man. Indeed, on her return, Mr. Drain's feathers were still more drooping.

He looked like a small bird disheveled by tempest, and yet holding on to his twig. But he was the only occupant of the room, at which Julianna was rather surprised. And yet not surprised. How his lordship's not gone to set the runners on me, has he, my lady? he quavered.

How he spoke to me something cruel, and I can't think why I was put in here with him. How neither can I, confessed Julianna. No, I do not think he will take any steps against you. But you must remember that all this has been a great shock to him, for he knew nothing at all about the matter.

Oh, you're not to imagine that he did, she added rather heartily. Oh no, my lady, I could see that. How very unfortunate it come out before him, but I couldn't help that. Oh, thank you, my lady. I'm sure I wish your ladyship very good health.

And you'll be able to keep his lordship from saying anything about creedy, won't you, my lady? Lord Fulgrave was walking agitatedly up and down his study, when, thinking it best to seek him at once, his daughter entered. Julianna, I cannot credit it.

My own daughter involved in a felony. And I who was threatening this person in Plymouth with the rigours of the law. This drain may go and lay information against you, Julianna. Oh, I don't think he will, papa. You frightened him too much on his own account.

Oh, it would be a good thing if I could frighten you, miss. Do you know that you could be put in the pillory for what you have done? To which Miss Julianna very unsatisfactorily replied that she should have deserved this punishment, not for having provided the money to get Monsieur de Sablière out of the Hulks, but for having sent him there in the first instance.

Oh, Julianna, said her father, drawing up his commanding form, I find your extreme preoccupation over this young man almost unbecoming. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, papa. I assure you that I was never in the least preoccupied with him until I injured him. And then I am afraid that I must look to see this undue interest of yours continue, for

I repeat my conviction that his escape, for which you appear to be responsible, is very unfortunate at this juncture, and may be found to have injured him still more. And how, pray, did you find the money? Was it a large sum? I sold my sapphires, replied his daughter succinctly.

But as her father uttered an exclamation of incredulity and horror she went on quickly, her face clouding as it had not at his reproaches. Oh, papa, do you really think it is so unfortunate, his escape? If Major Brackenbury's testimony really had any effect I was going to write to Creedy and tell him to cease his efforts.

Oh, I did not know that he had already succeeded. Oh, but how did you get into communication with Creedy in the first place? Does he know who you are? How did his letters come here? Or Juliana, is it possible that you have stooped to a clandestine correspondence?

Oh, but papa, said Miss Forrest, a dimple appearing, that surely can only be a matter of reproach if it be conducted with a lover. And Mr. Creedy, as he was described to me. Who described him to you? You've had a go between in this, cried Lord Fulgrave.

Who was it, that creature drain? No, somebody more presentable, said Juliana. Mr. Methuen kindly went down to Plymouth for me. Lord Fulgrave stared wildly as he discovered more ramifications of crime. Oh, good God, Methuen drawn into it too.

Juliana, I scarcely know you for my own daughter. And we are all in the hands of this Creedy and his accomplices if he chooses to blackmail us. Oh, I can never hold up my head again. And he sat down and took the fine head in question between his hands. Oh, papa, said Juliana penitently.

Why, I am sorry if you feel so deeply over what you are in no way responsible for. But I am sure Creedy is too cautious to risk exposure. We shall never hear of him again. Oh, darling papa, I was obliged to do it. I could not sleep at night knowing what Monsieur de Sablier was undergoing through my fault.

I hoped you would have learned a lesson without a fear, lamented her parent. But no, you are as willful as ever. You told me that you were obliged to show Mulholland that you were not in subjection to his whims. And look at the results. What the results of this may be, I don't like to think.

I've been very weak with you. Oh, you want a husband, Juliana, to keep you in check. But if you indulge in many more of these extraordinary proceedings, you are not likely to get one. Having regard to the number of her suitors, both parties knew this to be a mere rhetorical threat, and it passed without comment.

Juliana sat down on the arm of the chair. Well, I am not anxious to leave you, papa, she observed in a resigned voice. Oh, that I can quite understand, replied his lordship. In no other man's house would you be allowed a tithe of the freedom which has allowed you in this. Then I'd certainly better stay in it, retorted Miss Forrest with composure.

And now I will tell you everything, dearest papa. She slipped an arm round his neck. I had no intention of keeping you in the dark forever, you know. No, only until there was no chance of my putting a stop to your actions, groaned her sire. Well, proceed.

Juliana's confession ended in the customary way, in absolution. She was genuinely sorry that her father should feel himself involved, and through no fault whatever of his own, and what he considered a most reprehensible transaction, and that no assurance of hers, of her entire readiness to take all the blame, if necessary, consoled him at all.

How could she take the blame in the eyes of the world, he asked. He spoke much, and justifiably, too, of the situation in which she had placed him with regard to Major Brackenbury and his efforts, which would now be rendered useless. What, he inquired, was the good of all this to do about polls and gratitude, when his daughter had stultified it by her previous machinations?

There was not much that Juliana could say and reply, but she did begin to feel that it was perhaps a pity she had rendered the polls and gratitude move of no avail. Yet, after all, Monsieur de Sablier had now been free for eight days, and it was surely better actually to be free than merely to have the prospect of freedom, and then probably only of freedom in a modified form, restoration to parole.

And perhaps, before very long, she would receive a letter from France, for she would not allow herself to dwell on the possibility of his being recaptured. It would be her doing that he was given back to his mother and his sister, and was there really no other lady to welcome his return? But she realized, too, that she could at best only receive a letter, if ever she got that.

She would never see him again in person now. By saving him in this way, she had banished him, whereas, had he been saved through the agency of Major Brackenbury, he would have had to come to London for identification. But now, if he had got away, it was goodbye to him. Unless, perhaps, years hence, when the war was over, if it ever was, she should travel in France,

and passing perhaps through the Oglianet, where he had said that he lived, she saw herself travelling there, after her marriage. How but travelling with whom? Especially since her late unfortunate experience, she did not feel sufficient predilection for any man, mentally to fill that vacant place beside her in the chaise which rolled along the street,

unknown roads of France. A chance meeting, years hence. How would she even know him again? Long after she had dismissed her maid that night, Giuliana sat staring into the mirror. But it was not her own image that she saw.

Papa, said Giuliana, coming to his study next morning, if you think I ought to write to Major Brackenbury. But her father was not there. She wandered round, waiting for him to come back. It really was awkward about Major Brackenbury.

Where was Papa? After a moment or two, finding that he did not appear, she went to a bookcase, hunted about on the lower shelves, and pulled out a large, thin volume, which she carried to a table in the window, and opened. It was an atlas, in a view of Miss Forrest's preoccupation with a certain young man,

who was, or had, been, or was, or was not, with a certain young man, who was, or had, been, making his way eastward from Plymouth. It was very natural that she should consult it. Only, oddly enough, it was a map of France over which she was poring,

and her finger, after some fairly wild excursions, was resting firmly on the town of Orléans. She hastily removed it as the door opened. But it was not her father. It was a footman.

Oh, if you please, madam, Major Brackenbury is in the drawing-room, asking to see you at once. Oh, Major Brackenbury in person! What was she going to say to him? Her instinct was to make a clean breast of the whole business, yet, at the same time to suggest that, if the transport board were ignorant of the escape,

it was unwise to check any benevolent impulse in them. In any case, she must tell him the truth. Major Brackenbury, in uniform this time, was standing rather stiffly in the middle of the great drawing-room, where the statuary which flanked the tall windows showed white against the heavy crimson curtains.

As he advanced to meet her, Juliana saw that he looked very grave. He knew what had happened then, and was displeased. I'm afraid that I must prepare you for some bad news, Miss Forrest, he said, and is still was not one of displeasure, but regret. Juliana paled a little.

Oh, I think I can guess it. It is that Monsieur de Sabliac has escaped, been recaptured, and that the transport office are now going to refuse him, on account of his escape, the justice which is his due. What a crowning piece of ill-fortune! And she smote her hands together in a sudden gust of rebellion.

Major Brackenbury looked at her, and then he looked away. Yes, he has escaped, but he has not been recaptured. There is no fault to find in the attitude of the commissioners. They were on the point of dispatching instructions for his being sent to London for identification. But this unfortunate enterprise of his—

He stopped. Juliana closed her eyes. In that sunlit room the most deadly presentiments seemed to swarm round her, cold moth-like things. Oh, yes, this unfortunate enterprise! Please do not keep me in suspense.

What is so difficult to tell you, murmured the Major unhappily. And God knows I am sorry enough on my own account, as well as on yours. And the fact is that though de Sabliac has not been recaptured, the transport board can do nothing further for him. How can't you guess why, Miss Forrest?

Then the moths fluttered right into Juliana's brain. Yes, she could guess, and she did not need to embody her guess in words. She sat down in the nearest chair and put her hands over her face. Oh, Miss Forrest, came the soldier's voice solicitously. This has been a great shock to you.

May I ring for some wine? Or for your maid? Juliana removed her hands and mutely shook her head. Major Brackenbury stood in a shaft full of golden motes, like a heavenly messenger. But his scarlet coat hurt the eye.

You're trying to tell me that he preferred death to recapture, to recapture, she heard herself say in a dull voice. Oh, substantially that is true, I'm sorry to say. He was drowned on the afternoon of the 13th, while attempting to evade pursuit by swimming the Stowe River near its mouth.

The official report of the escapement, and its fatal termination, was only received yesterday at the transport office from Plymouth. But I'm afraid that there cannot be the slightest doubt of its truth. Juliana suddenly stood up. The roses of the carpet swam a little.

Oh, how I am punished, she said in a very low voice. It was I who contrived his escape. If only, if only I'd left him where he was. Oh, Major Brackenbury, it can't be true. I can't believe it.

It must be a false report. Oh, my dear Miss Forrest, said the Major of the Buffs. I only wish I could think so. But I'm afraid there's no chance of that. The tragedy was witnessed.

Oh, pray do not take it so to heart. If you had to do with his escape, you acted with the best intentions. Oh, I'm indeed grieved about it, deeply grieved. But Juliana had left him and gone to one of the lofty windows. And she felt so cold, as cold as the marble nymph beside her.

Tears did not come, though there was cause enough for them. It was her hand that had lured him to that river, just as on that day in March. She began ineffectually to plait the curtain fringe. Drowned, drowned on the verge of freedom. Major Brackenbury, in the middle of the room, embarrassed, compassionate,

hesitating whether to approach her, looked round with an air of relief when the door opened. It was Lord Falgrave. I've only just been informed, Major, that you— He began, and saw his daughter motionless at the window with her back to the visitor. What's this?

Major Brackenbury told him, adding, almost in a whisper. How un-the-saddest part is, there seems no doubt that, subject to my identification of him, the transport office was prepared to recommend the unfortunate young man for complete release at a cartel back to France. Oh dear, dear, said Lord Falgrave.

He glanced at the window. Oh, my poor girl! Oh, what are you going, sir? Oh, for the present, my lord. He, too, glanced at the window.

Make my adieu for me, if you please. God knows how much I regret that I can never now pay my debt. He was gone, and Lord Falgrave approached his daughter. Juliana, my dear. Juliana turned round.

Her father had never seen her so white and still. Oh, papa, I think I am a murderess. Oh, nonsense, my love, said he, shocked. I am as grieved as you, but we must not take extreme views. Like that.

I've been nothing but his evil genius all along, said Juliana, looking into some invisible distance, her eyes dilated. And now, at last, though I thought I was doing him a service, I've killed him. Lord Falgrave, just a trifle alarmed, drew her arm within his own and patted it. Oh, come into this study, and dearest child,

and if you want to talk about it to your old father, we shall be undisturbed. At that, suddenly, she kissed him, clinging closely to him, and putting his arm round her, he drew her away from the marble population of the drawing room. In his study, he put her into his own chair, smoothing her hair as if she were a child, and thinking apprehensively.

Oh, I believe she ought to cry. Oh, she ought to cry. But Juliana leant back with her eyes closed, and for some time said nothing, and then, without opening them, she observed. Oh, I'm fully punished now, Papa, am I not?

And he knew not what to reply. Some minutes later she got up, and began to walk about the room, clasping and un-clasping her hands. If only I could see him once, just once, and to tell him how bitterly I'm grieved. How bitterly I repent.

Well, perhaps, my dear, said her father, stirred to an unwanted flight of fancy. Perhaps he knows it, after all. He made a hurried mental calculation as to what unseen sphere would be inhabited at the moment by a departed papist. Oh, presumably, de Sablé was a papist, and feeling uncertain because of this queer,

unprovable purgatory of theirs, returned to safer ground. While he was alive, at any rate, poor fellow, he must have known that you did your very best for him. Juliana, who gave no signs of having heard these attempts at consolation, had stopped in her walk.

She had come to the table in the window which still supported the open atlas. This she made as if to close, and did not. I borrowed your atlas, papa, she said, in a choking voice. And before Lord Falgrave could recover from his rather alarmed surprise at this abrupt change of topic, she had flung herself sobbing beside it,

her arms outflung across the map of France, her head upon it, too, and her tears making in appropriately damp the departments of Creuse and Hôtevillens.