menu_book Chapter 26

CHAPTER II. JULIANNUS IMMUGTEL. The princess and her favourite embraced each other, with transport too violent to be expressed, but went out together to pour the tears of tenderness in secret, and exchange professions of kindness and gratitude.

RASALAS CHAPTER XXXVIII. The sun of the September afternoon poured cheerfully into Hervey Barrington's meticulously tidy dressing-room, where he was changing into riding-clothes. He was going to Totten on business, not by coach this time. Yesterday, Lavinia had returned to her cottage, having stayed four days at Fairhaven.

Hervey had observed to her that it was clear why she had prolonged her visit beyond the couple of nights, for which he was usually privileged to entertain her, and asked how Mrs. Jeremy had borne this preoccupation with her a special property. Her Mrs. Jeremy's property, queried his sister, flashing at him one of her quick glances. Isn't he rather yours, Hervey?

It is I, certainly, who am responsible for him, if that is what you mean, Captain Barrington had replied. But it was not what she meant, and he knew it, and even now a smile curved his resolute as, having settled his stock before the mirror, he went to the window and looked out. His dressing-room was one of the few rooms in Fairhaven which overlooked the little walled

fruit garden at the side of the house. However, it was not his espaliers that he was contemplating now. On the plot of grass in the middle was a couch, and by it a book lying face downwards. But the occupant of the couch was at this moment standing meditatively in front of a laden plum tree, which was displaying its treasures against the warm stone of the wall.

Hull called this little fruit-ringed garden his pack, or sheepfold, for he or he and his sofa had been installed for the last two afternoons, on condition that he never strayed out of the enclosure. He was under engagement not even to return to the house, without first ascertaining that the coast was clear.

But so successfully had his presence at Fairhaven been concealed that, beyond taking certain obvious precautions, one did not trouble much about the prospect of discovery. From his window Hervey watched the selection of two of the ripest plums, and the convalescent's slow return with them to his couch, on which he stretched himself out luxuriously. Only a month today since he had been smuggled into this house.

How Hervey was going to get him away when he was fit for it he had not yet thought out. He only knew that he had no desire to hasten that moment. How odd that seemed! He left the window, and had drawn on one riding-boot when there was a knock, and Mrs. Jeremy appeared, announcing that a lady and gentleman from London desired to see him on business, and

at this moment in the morning-room. She held out a tray, and Hervey, taking up the cards which lay thereon, read with puzzled eyes the names of Viscount Fulgrave and the honourable Juliana Forrest. It was not hope which had brought Juliana to Stowey. She had been driven here, after twenty-four haunted miserable days, by the longing to

hear on the spot what details were known of the tragedy witnessed, as she gathered by the coast-guards, and if Monsieur de Sabliac's body had by this time been recovered, had to be sure that it had fitting burial. For in his death, as in the last painful months of a short life, she felt that she was the only person in England to care for him.

Yet, on the other hand, the very shortness of that life was due to her, to her initial which had set in motion the whole fatal train of events, as the unthinking loosening of a pebble may end by causing a whole cliff-wall to slide downward in an avalanche of disaster. So acute and so persistent was her distress that her father finally snatched at any method of alleviating it, and though he thought the present method both morbid and inconvenient,

for he had threatenings of gout at the moment, he offered to take her down to Stowey on this melancholy errand. They had arrived this afternoon, and made their way to the coast-guard station, only to be told, in the soft, devin tongue, that it was not the coast-guards, but Captain Barrington up to Fairhaven who had seen the Frenchman drown, and that no, the body had not come

ashore yet, likely never would. So to Fairhaven they had come. And in the pleasant casemented room, where she was to hear the last act of the tragedy she had written, Juliana sat and wondered whether this old retired naval captain, such her father had said he must certainly be, would show annoyance at their coming, would

refuse details, or give to many. And as she heard the door handle turn, she felt a sudden doubt of her courage, a sudden wonder at her temerity. Compared to the veteran she had expected, the somewhat stern, good-looking man who came in was young.

But young or old, those eyes had seen Raoul de Sabliac die. And she could not take her own from him all the time that her father made themselves and their errand known, and asked Captain Barrington for details. The body, I gather, has not been recovered, he finished. For all her mental anguish, Juliana could not avoid noticing the colour which mounted

at that to Captain Barrington's face. No, he said, a little indistinctly. I doubt if there's now any chance of it. He turned away, for he had not sat down, and murmuring something about a draft, closed the casement window.

Then fixing a very clear and steady pair of eyes on Lord Fulgrave, he said, How you were sincerely interested in this young man, my lord. How sincerely, replied his lordship, with a glance at his daughter. Oh, I did my best to obtain his release from the hawks. Had he not escaped, and lost his life in so doing, I should have succeeded, for it appears

that he had rendered a signal service to a British officer at Albuera, and the Transport Board were prepared to recommend him for an unconditional cartel. But now, of course, her cartel exclaimed Captain Barrington in evident astonishment. He would have been released altogether. That was certainly intended.

He had saved the life of this officer, a major in the Third Foot. But before the commissioners could take the necessary steps came the melancholy news of the young man's death. Oh, why did Captain Barrington look so strange, so much more than merely surprised? But Juliana's eyes, in her pain, wandered at last away from his face, only to encounter

a sharper pang. From where she sat she could see the wide river that had drowned Mr. Rowell, all blue and sparkling under the September sky. Now she did not want to hear those details she had come to hear. It hurt too deeply.

She cared too much. More than she knew. Why had she come? You astonish me very much, she heard Captain Barrington saying, and then he seemed to come to a stop.

It is indeed very regrettable that the young man should no longer be alive to profit by this favor, observed her father. You're quite sure, my lord, that it really would have been extended to him had he lived. Forgive my pertinacity. From what I was told, sir, I feel convinced of it.

Then began Captain Barrington and stopped again. Suddenly he put a curious question. Are you disposed to admit that there may be occasions when a man's duty to his country conflicts with the claims of humanity? I suppose there may be such occasions, replied his lordship cautiously.

Then if, in the case of this young Frenchman, who is reported to have been drowned, a reported interjected Lord Falgrave. But was it not you yourself, Captain Barrington, who reported it? Was your report then based only on hearsay? Yes, I did report it, admitted Captain Barrington, but—

He hesitated, and a spasm of relief darted through Juliana. He meant that he had not, after all, witnessed the tragedy with his own eyes. And after all, she need not hear of it. But the speaker was going on again. If I were to tell you, Lord Falgrave, he said squarely, that this young Frenchman had been

rescued, hidden and cared for through a serious illness, by an Englishman who ought no doubt to have made him over to the authorities, but who could not bring himself to do this, what would be your opinion of that man? But Lord Falgrave had no opportunity of stating his opinion, for his daughter was on her feet stretching out a hand to Harvey Barrington.

How is it true, sir? she implored. Is it true, or only a possibility, that he's not? Harvey turned to her. It is quite true, madam, he replied soberly.

He is alive and— It was he who caught Miss Forrest as she swayed, transferring her quickly to her father's care and ringing the bell violently for Mrs. Jeremy. Then supervened a period of the attentions of that good lady and smelling salts. At one moment, and that was even born to Harvey's nostrils, he having discreetly turned his

back, the odious smell of burnt feathers. And during the time that he thus contemplated the Kestrel at her moorings, he lost any remaining doubts as to Miss Forrest's identity. She was, of course, the unnamed lady of Gaulle's story. And it seemed hardly necessary for it to be apologetically whispered into his ear by her

father, as it presently was that the news of the young man's being alive after all had proved too much for her, she having taken the sad affair so much to heart. Swoon and explanation, however, confirmed him in his resolve to remove the veil from his own conduct. Or misconduct.

He could not keep Gaulle from these good friends of his and from the prospect of release because of the possibility of risk to himself. At last Miss Forrest, apologizing for her foolishness and the trouble she had caused, and declining Mrs. Jeremy's suggestion that she should repose herself in Miss Barrington's bedroom, appeared fully recovered and Harvey caught her whisper.

Oh, ask him, papa, ask him how and where and who. And Lord Falgrave obediently approached him. Will you tell us the rest, sir? Who, for instance, is the man you spoke of, who showed so much charity? You need not be afraid of our ever-breathing abhorred about his humanity.

Harvey Barrington had turned round. Thank you, my lord, for the assurance. Since the man in question wears his majesty's uniform, he is doubly grateful for it. He has the honor of speaking to you at this moment. Never in his life had he made so dramatic an announcement.

Oh, you, sir, exclaimed Lord Falgrave. Then you did not see him drown. You saved him. Yes, said Harvey, rather curtly. He did not love the histrionic.

What else would you have a man do? Oh, quite so. But you appear to have done a good deal more than that. Captain Barrington, I should esteem it a privilege. He held out his hand.

Oh, this is a felon's hand, my lord, said Harvey, and for the first time he smiled. Oh, tut, tut, said the condemnor of creedy, and he wrung it. And are we to understand that you have the young men still here, under your roof? Oh, well, he's actually in the garden at this moment. I will have him summoned, or perhaps he hesitated.

Oh, I think you said, sir, put in Juliana, leaning forward, that he had been ill. Yes, very ill, and he's still weak, though quite well again. If therefore his lordship would give himself the trouble to come with me into the garden, the stairs being somewhat trying to a convalescent. But doubtless Miss Forrest, too, would wish.

He looked from one to the other. Yes, Miss Forrest did wish, and announced herself as perfectly able to accompany her father to the garden. Indeed, she had now the most lovely colour, so Harvey gave her his arm. And as they left the house she said to him in a low voice,

Oh, Captain Barrington, I hardly dare let myself believe it. Yet, since it must be true, how is one ever to thank you? For by not saying a word about my accent to anyone, Miss Forrest, replied Harvey Barrington, and lifted the latch of the little door in the wall. Raoul, said Harvey's deep voice, penetrating a very fleeting dream.

Here are two visitors to see you. Don't move, they will excuse your not rising. He stood back, and Raoul opened his eyes, half sleepy, half startled, and saw who one of them was. The colour rushed over his face.

He made an inarticulate sound, and tried to get off the couch. Oh, but her companion, oh, he must still be half asleep, it could not really be Lord Wellington, and prevented this disobedience by coming close and holding out his hand. Oh, how do you do, sir? I am exceedingly glad to learn that you are not drowned, as we thought.

And here is my daughter, who is in the same case. We came to lay a wreath on your grave, and find, most happily, that there is no necessity. Oh, sir, my lord, stammered Raoul, utterly confused and dizzy. Whether this tall gentleman with a nose were real, or a remnant of a dream, she was real, and was looking at him with a little rainbow of a smile.

How could he answer coherently, or speak to anyone else, or even to her? And she said nothing, but only looked at him without heavenly kindness. This. Herve had by now brought up a rustic tear. Oh, sit down, my dear, said the gentleman, and Juliana obeyed.

Oh, perhaps I ought to introduce myself, he went on, to the young man, for your good friend here probably does not know that I have not previously had the pleasure of meeting you, though indeed you have been much in my thoughts these last months. I am Lord Fulgrave. Again Raoul tried to get out thanks.

Again he failed to produce anything coherent. But Lord Fulgrave by no means waited for either. And I may give myself the satisfaction of telling you, sir, he pursued, since you are fortunately still alive, that I have been able, by following up a happy suggestion of my daughters, based on something you once told her, to procure.

However, I think she shall inform you of that herself. He seemed in high good humor, as indeed he was, on Juliana's account. I see, that you have some fine espaliers over there, Captain Barrington. Fruit growing greatly interests me. Herve said something, and their voices receded, died out of the garden altogether.

Between these four fruit-laden walls, under the blue roof, there was only Juliana Forest. Who had come all this way to see him. She had on a muslin gown, the colour of an apricot, with little silver lines. And she was not looking at him now, and a silence had fallen. Was she thinking of the clothes of their last meeting?

As if he should ever presume on that angelic gift of hers. He slipped off the couch, onto one knee, took her hand, and bending his head kissed it passionately. Without words. For more than three weeks, I've believed you drowned, said Juliana, in a little thread of a voice, and trembling.

How I only heard just now, and the joy, and the relief. She turned her head away, and put up her free hand to her eyes. How you thought that, said Raoul, in deep distress. I hoped. I was almost sure you would not hear it. I have longed to write to you, but there was Captain Barrington's safety to consider.

Juliana Forest turned her head back, careless that two tears were coursing down her face. And seeing him still kneeling there, so thin and altered. Oh, please, please, Monsieur de Sabliac, lie down again, who indeed you should. Oh, to please me. To please her, he would at least sit upon the couch.

And indeed he felt a strange swimming in the head. Notre Dame de Bonsecours come to visit him, or come to bury him. Perhaps he was dead, and in paradise already. Only that seemed unlikely. But here certainly was a denizen of heaven.

And he might, he must, address her. I am grieved indeed that you should have heard that, he said again, and stole another long look at her. How but are you really? asked a little voice within him. If she had not heard it, she would not, probably, be here. How did you learn it, mademoiselle? Surely it was not in the newspapers.

If Raoul was a prey to varied emotions, his visitor had to control even more varied. He whom less than an hour ago she was mourning as dead, was alive, and was here within reach of her hand, and she had great news for him. Also the last time they had met, she had... But in presence of matters so much more vital,

that memory had scarcely room to raise its head and make her blush. No, it was not in the newspapers, she answered. I heard, because... Oh, Monsieur de Sablière, I have good news for you, and the prospect of a cartel. What? exclaimed Raoul, gripping the edge of the couch.

Oh, it is true, said Juliana, seriously. But for your escape, my doing, you might be in France today. Even now, I suppose, it only needs your identification by this officer, and the transport office will recommend you for it. Identification, stammered the young man, his head whirling.

What officer? The officer whose life you saved at Albuera, Major Brackenbury of the Buffs. But I never heard his name. And you, mademoiselle, how did you know anything about him? His amazement was very sweet to Juliana.

At last she had accomplished on his behalf something that was not merely reprimanded. But a great inspiration. That day by the stream, she began, looking at him with a really radiant smile. And with that, told him the whole story of the quest of Major Brackenbury and his gratitude. Oh, my God, said Raoul, gazing at her, almost stupefied.

And you've done that for me, that too. But after all, Juliana had been too lately and too long, under the shadow of the misfortunes which she had brought upon him so easily to forget them. She looked away, and it was with rather an unsteady voice that she said, Whatever I do, I can never make up for the harm I've caused you.

Even if you shortly receive your freedom, as I hope you will, nothing can give you back these last months. Or make up to you for what you've suffered. Through my doing. All your life you will remember that the folly of an English girl sent you to that.

And that her unexampled courage and devotion saved me from it again, said Raoul, more than saved me. Oh, Miss Forrest, if you could only know how you appear to me, you would cease to torment yourself with this unnecessary remorse. You bring me this great gift, return to my own country,

and you think I can have room in my heart for the shadow of a reproach. Avredi, he added, and his voice sank. I think that in my heart at this moment there's room for only one feeling. Wonder at your incredible goodness in coming all this way to ask the last tidings of a poor prisoner who had crossed your path.

If I were the ghost I might be, mademoiselle, and saw you standing at my grave. And though I knew, as I do know, living, that you'd spent so much time, so much effort, so much gold to help me, still the immortelle in your hand would outweigh all else. You've come yourself when you did not even know that I had a tongue to thank you. With an emotion so contagious as this, Giuliana had never before been in contact,

as she turned a little pale. You exaggerate, I think, Monsieur de Sabliave, as she said, in a rather troubled voice. Let us discuss now how we are to proceed about the cartel. If you were to come back with my father and me to London. I'll come back with you, exclaimed Raoul, as if he had not heard her right.

You think it would not be safe, asked Giuliana, mistaking his tone. But you have only to prove your identity. You're practically a pardoned man. Would it be safe, in a different sense, to sit by her side for two days, to sleep under the same roof?

It might be intoxicating, but would it be safe? Yet had it meant hunting in jail, he would do it, if he were really to have the chance of it. I will discuss it with my father, Giuliana was going on. It seems to me that it would be the best plan. She rose.

I think I hear him returning. We might come again tomorrow to see you about it. We're staying at the Dolphin. And I've so much to hear. You've been ill and nursed here by Captain Barrington.

Not only ill, I see, but injured. Raoul had bent his head. Why must she go? But if she came again tomorrow, perhaps he could bear that this should end. Yes, I have a great deal to tell you about Captain Barrington and what I owe to him.

And a great deal to hear, too, if I may. It amazes me that you can have found that officer. And it was nothing what I did. Are you sure? It is not a mistake.

Giuliana shook her head. Major Brackenbury did not call it nothing, I assure you. Yes, papa, I'm ready. And Raoul walked in a dream beside her to the garden door, where Lord Falgrave and his host were standing.

Lord Falgrave shook his hand. Oh, I'm sorry to see that sling, sir, he remarked. But I hope it will be many a day before you have your foot in one. Which is where mine will be tomorrow, I'm afraid. And gout.

Oh, in that case, said Raoul, how can I express my sense of your lordship's goodness in taking this journey? I'm very glad I did, responded his lordship, looking at him kindly. Yes, tomorrow, Captain Barrington, we will discuss ways and means for getting this young gentleman his due.

I shall have pleasure in waiting upon you, my lord, as I suggested, replied Hervey. And was instantly aware of a hard, almost vicious grip on his arm from behind. Or, he added hastily, in welcoming you here. Yes, that would admit of a full council of war, responded Lord Falgrave. And provided that my enemy has not attacked me.

Until tomorrow, then, Monsieur de Sablière. Oh, but you mustn't show yourself yet, you know, my dear boy, said Hervey quietly. Putting a hand on Raoul's shoulder, for the latter was manifesting every intention of escorting Miss Forrest to the carriage. Oh, my faith, I was forgetting, said Raoul, a trifle taken aback.

No, I suppose not. Au revoir, then, mademoiselle. It was as he raised her hand to his lips that the full memory of their last parting came like a tide upon Juliana, dyeing her face for a moment. Oh, heaven grant, he were not thinking of it too.

But surely the news she had brought must have obliterated the recollection. She went to the carriage hugging that quite illusory consolation. End of section 26