CHAPTER XIV.
"Woman, the world's appointed light,
Has skirted ev'ry shade with white;
Has stood for imitation high,
To ev'ry heart and ev'ry eye;
From ancient deeds of fair renown,
Has brought her bright memorials down."
Moore's Fables.
The following day, after the release of the Marquis, glowing with humanity and the love of doing an act of kindness to a fellow-creature, the first use he made of his recovered freedom was to employ it in the service of his late comrade in bondage, the unhappy De Brooke. Though a foreigner in the country, and but little acquainted with its laws and customs, and still less disposed, from the natural amenity of his temper, to interfere in what might not regard him, yet, from his courteous and affable demeanour, he never failed to make a favourable impression, and to gain a ready hearing to his cause. This was exemplified in the present case.
Mr. Philimore had made his appeal to the Marshal at a time when his mind was under the influence of prejudice imbibed through the insinuations of Mr. Arden. But when the Marquis applied, being less compromised in the affair, he was inclined to listen with due attention to his request, set forth in a point of view so interesting and touching. For which reason, what had been, under possibly some feigned pretence, so recently denied to a native, was spontaneously granted to a foreigner. Pleased with his success, and having been favoured with the address of Mrs. De Brooke, he lost no time in communicating to her the welcome tidings, in order that she might be enabled to transmit them to her husband. He then left her, overwhelmed with her thanks; rewarded also with that inward joy which never fails to accompany a humane and beneficent action.
Informed of the circumstance, Mr. Philimore set off, in the first instance, with Robert for the Bench, there to engage an apartment as commodious as a prison would admit of; in which succeeding to his satisfaction, he left Robert to make the necessary arrangements for the reception of his master. Mr. Philimore next proceeded to De Brooke, who was enduring a tedious interval of despondence and fearful anticipation of perhaps other prisoners less congenial than those who had quitted him being admitted to occupy the vacant mattresses they had left, and on which unrestrained he sometimes flung himself, uttering his complaints aloud. The voice of Mr. Philimore, as the harbinger of better news, gave fresh energy and assurance to his feelings.
"A private chamber has been obtained for you."
"'Tis a boon, then," interrupted the other, "that, so long delayed, seems due to the same caprice or whim that before denied it me."
"No matter; let us profit by it, and depart hence," continued Mr. Philimore.
"But first I must tell you, 'tis to the interposition of your late friend, the Marquis, that you owe this better fortune; his influence, it seems, was more persuasive than mine. Indeed, I have always observed, be it said to the honour of Britain, that the petitions or claims of a stranger are seldom neglected by her, and even more attended to than those who own her for their mother soil."
Accompanied by his friend, De Brooke proceeded to take possession of his new apartment. Robert was already in waiting. Mr. Philimore then took his leave. Alone with Robert, he began to give utterance to his reflections: "And this, then," said he, "is to be my future dwelling!" with a sigh, called forth not on account of his own personal privations, but from the idea it involved of separation from his wife.
"Ah, massa," answered the faithful servant, sighing in his turn, "me be sorry it is no better; me wish dere had been at least a closet alongside, where me could have slept, dat dose two heavy articles of furniture might not have encumbered you here," pointing to the two chest beds the room contained.
"No matter," said De Brooke; "one of them, doubtless, has been designed to serve as a wardrobe."
"Begging your honour's pardon, you mistake, dey both are press beds", at the same time unfolding them to view, "and have been placed here by my missus' orders; for, wit your permission, she has tought it proper me should stay with you, seeing me am but little use to her at Kennington, having both de missus and de maid of de house to attend her. 'Go,' said she, 'Robert, go to your massa, watch ober him, be eber attentive to his wants; I shall be better satisfied by your so doing dan remaining here wit me.' Me told her she tought right."
"Think you so, Robert, truly," said De Brooke, interrupting him, "it will give your mistress pleasure as well as yourself my keeping you here?"
"Me know it," exclaimed he, brightening as he spoke.
"Well, then, you shall stay: your presence will cheer me; and you shall go once a day to Kennington, either to escort your mistress here, or to bring me back accounts of her."
Having thus settled the point, De Brooke allowed himself to look to the future with less dismay; hope, seldom long a stranger to his bosom, began to resume its seat. His eye glanced around his chamber; it was confined in space, but it was not destitute of comfort. The walls were clean, and free from damp: on each side of a small grate were two recesses, containing closets; the one might serve for his linen, the other for his simple fare. In the two further corners stood the two chest beds, which, when opened, transformed his little parlour into the accommodation of a bed-room: half a dozen wicker chairs and a table composed the rest of his furniture. His window overlooked the court destined for the use of the prisoners, and exactly faced that ponderous portal constantly opening and shutting to give entrance, as new victims were added to that gloomy mansion; the thick and lofty walls surrounding it spiked at their top, and bidding defiance to escape. Nevertheless, even this restraint, so ignominious and irksome to many there immured, they sought to mitigate by occasionally indulging in sports, such as the place afforded, either in the healthful exercise of ball or rackets, or in taking their daily walk, slowly measuring the space they trod, from one end of its length to the other.
In drawing a comparison between the busy scene before him and the dark back chamber he had quitted, De Brooke resigned himself with a better grace to his imprisonment than but a short period before he thought was possible. Blessed by the sight sometimes of his Angelina and children, he might steal a moment from languor; he might even quaff at the godly fountain of resignation; and thence, until some arrangement could be made in his affairs, enjoy a comparative happiness. With such reflections the night closed in; he betook himself to rest, and awaked in the morning refreshed by his slumbers.
The sun penetrating a narrow crevice of his shutter, darted its ardent beams across him; animated by the view, he hastened to arise. Robert had already done so an hour or two before: fearful of shortening the repose of his master, so essential he well knew to support him under his sorrows, he had performed with the greatest quietness, yet exactitude, all things necessary for his accommodation. De Brooke, therefore, had no sooner adjusted himself in his moming's attire, than he found his table comfortably spread for his breakfast; and so provident had been his worthy black, that he had even obtained for his perusal the last Gazette. Alas, poor Robert! how much did he lament having done so, upon perceiving his master turn suddenly pale! A paragraph had met his eye, that gave to his heart an impulsive throb; the case might not allude to him, yet from similarity of circumstances he could not forbear in some manner applying it to himself. The passage ran as follows: "A protest is shortly about to be entered upon, having for its object to annul a marriage, in fashionable life on the score of its illegality, the parties being minor, at the time of its solemnization."
Could it be possible his father was meditating such a blow, a persecution so horrid and barbarous! "Impossible!" ejaculated he: suspended between conflicting opinions, he let the paper drop from his hands. Robert feared to speak, but marked in silent concern his master's perturbation. Moving slowly round, he took the paper up; when De Brooke, searching for it, seized it from his hand, in order to read again the fatal paragraph, and attentively musing over the passage, he began to feel reassured.
Though but little acquainted with the law as regarding cases to be brought under the cognizance of the court of spiritual jurisdiction, yet he conceived, from having lived with his wife after both had become of age, such a process as the one then pending must be useless, and regard a more recent case than his. "My fears have deceived me," thought he; "my nerves, in a state of irritability, magnify and readily seize upon subjects of alarm, arising, doubtless, out of my lonely and melancholy cogitations of late. I will shake it from me, and think no more of it. At all events, I can beg my friend Philimore to be on the look-out, and gain every information on the subject; and should it—but which, I think, it cannot,—regard myself, every arrangement may be made conducive towards effecting without delay a repetition of the marriage solemnity."
Impressed with this more favourable view of the subject, he turned with a look of complacency towards Robert, who, having the satisfaction of seeing peace again irradiate the brow of his beloved master, now proposed calling upon his mistress, which words reverberating with magical influence in the ear of De Brooke, the proposition was eagerly responded to, and Robert was dispatched with orders to conduct her and his children immediately to him.
Left during the interval to his own reflections,—"My golden hours of happiness, alas!" thought he, "how swiftly have they fled!" But still, if possessed of an unrepining spirit, and if blessed with a competency, he hoped they might not be quite exhausted; intervals of happiness might still exist for him, drawing their source from the ties of husband and father,—ties of affection which rendered life so valuable to him; his misfortunes, far from giving counterpoise, contributing to augment them; if the torch that formerly illumined his path to the hymeneal altar burnt less vivid, it then emitted a beam more steady. Angelina was the light of his soul! and he awaited the sound of her footsteps with an impatience that caused every minute to seem an age. Transfixed to the window, his eye rested upon the huge gates opposite, every moment expecting his beloved wife.
She came, the little Aubrey running by her side; his younger children, as before, were borne in the arms of Robert, who strided foremost in order to point the way. Seizing his hat, De Brooke descended to meet them. Their mutual greetings were exchanged with those joyous emotions, of which conscious love is sensible when no longer mourning over the tediousness of absence. The little Aubrey, keenly susceptible of the cheering influence of kindly affections, playfully skipped before, whilst his sisters, smiling upon their father, extended to him their innocent arms; catching them alternately in his, he proceeded to lead his wife up the narrow stone staircase that lay before them. Breathless with the fatigue of mounting, Mrs. De Brooke was obliged to repose at each long landing-place terminating the respective stairs, leading to the various chambers occupied by the prisoners. After another painful and wearisome ascent, they reached at last the gallery leading to the apartment of De Brooke, who, to give it a less comfortless appearance, by the good management of Robert, had provided a table neatly spread with refreshments, of a sort gratifying to the view of his children, and of which they readily partook.
After an interval given to recover herself, and to contemplate the objects around her, though not without a sigh, Mrs. De Brooke expressed her satisfaction at the present improvement in the accommodation, the badness of which had in the first instance caused so great a shock to her feelings. Cheered by their repast, and pleased with the presence of their father, while happily ignorant of the cause that of late had rendered that presence so rare, the elder children indulged in their usual gambols, whilst the younger on her mother's lap lavished her infantine caresses. A long-lost happiness was recovered to De Brooke; it came however embittered by the frequent recurrence that it would be but short; that presently, forlorn and forsaken, those beloved objects would be shut from his sight. His watch, that telltale of time, counted the hours as they fled. Mrs. De Brooke essayed to chase the mists of disquietude gathering around his brow. Every sudden motion of his frame bespoke the nervous agitation of his system.
She longed to break silence, to administer a balm to his feelings, but the moment was not yet at hand. She had a plan, but she wished to suspend its divulgement until the return of Robert, to whose sagacity and circumspection she looked for its accomplishment. In anxious expectation, the minutes, too rapid for De Brooke, crept on but slowly with her. She assumed, however, composure; and to divert her husband's attention during the interval, related some circumstances and anecdotes that had come within her observation during the period of his removal from her, dwelling with energy on the kind friendship she had met with from Mrs. Philimore. Whilst thus engaged, the auspicious moment at length arrived: Robert, breathless, as if big with some unlooked-for agreeable intelligence, flung open the door, his sable features beaming with honest exultation: he pointed to an apartment opposite, divided but by a narrow corridor.
"What is it you mean, my good fellow?" said De Brooke rising and moving towards the door, followed by his wife: "explain yourself," continued he, entering the room, Where Robert stood to receive him: "this is a snug apartment."
"Me mean, massa, dat it be yours; in obeying de wishes of missus, me hab been lucky, very lucky, to get it: to be sure, not witout paying large price to get de late owner out of it. But he be better off, he be put below stairs; and dis will answer your purpose well, very well; we can all lib here very comfortable togeder."
Interrupting the volubility of Robert, De Brooke turned to his wife, who replied, by entreating him to give her a patient hearing with regard to the proposal she was about making him. With this, seating themselves to indulge in a tête-à-tête conversation, Robert, gay as a lark soaring to chant its matin, catching Rosilia, held out to him by her mother, danced and frolicked with the other children in the adjoining apartment.
Mrs. De Brooke then introduced her discourse by making a brief but forcible representation of the expensiveness attached to their pursuing a separate establishment; that having made herself, through Robert, acquainted with the particulars relative to the manner in which he was accommodated, she concluded thence, that, by the convenience of an additional chamber, many difficulties being obviated, they might live together; when, in no longer submitting to the pain of absence, they would also derive, what in their situation was of such essential importance, the œconomizing from his army allowance, which in its accumulations could be devoted to the payment and satisfaction of his creditors, and thus shorten the period that placed him under the restraint of the law. Prepared as she was to discuss a point so interesting to her feelings, her mien became animated, her expressions eloquent.
De Brooke as she spoke contemplated her with a mixt feeling of wonder and admiration. To part from that beloved object, voluntarily to renounce the charms of her constant society, was a privation great indeed; but, on the other hand, to see her become the companion of his prison's sorrows,—it was soul-harrowing to think of. If his person was in bondage, hers was free: with a mournful, yet passionate energy, therefore, he enforced the necessity of her returning to her lodgings; nothing could be more appropriate than they were to her health and comfort: why seek to leave them, and abandon the infinite resources, the congenial friendship offered her by Mr. and Mrs. Philimore,—why divest herself of such advantages to take up her abode with him, and limit herself to at best two small dismal chambers? "It cannot be, my Angelina; but may a thousand blessings shower upon you for the charitable suggestion!"
"I have come with the determination to stay with you", returned she, in tones of melting pathos; "and judge not of me so ill, as to think I can be so selfish as to admit of all you would say to induce me to leave you."
"It cannot be," rejoined De Brooke; "devoid of every feeling of humanity I should be to suffer it; the extreme youth of our children, demanding as they naturally do the care of a female attendant, to give them your undivided attention,—it is impossible! I could not see you perform the common offices of a nurse, and see withal you and them linger out your days, weeks, perhaps months, in this sorry habitation; more than essential to my wants is the use of these two rooms, but not for your more urgent ones, deserving of every comfort."
"And are not your sorrows mine?" interrupted she.
"Yes, in heart and sympathy; but that does not imply that you are to be a personal sharer in them: the scenes of a prison are not for you. Go, my dearest; accompanied by your offspring, their innocent caresses will console you in my absence."
He paused, in expectation of her reply; she spoke not; the suspense pained him: her countenance was sad, yet thoughtful; it appeared, in its heavenly illumination, as if some exalted sentiment had taken possession of her spirit, too great for utterance. Fain at that moment would De Brooke have acceded to all she wished; yet the more powerful idea of being the unhappy cause of involving her in those privations, occasioned by the ruin he had himself brought upon her, checked his speech; and after a distressing lapse of silence on either side, he added, in a sort of hurried agitation, denoting the inward conflict he sustained: "Go, my Angelina, for our dear children's sakes, for those dear pledges of our mutual affection; go quickly, linger not, and let us save each other the misery of renewing these scenes."
"It is enough," said Mrs. De Brooke, at last finding words; "I shall dispute the point no longer; but I shall carry away with me a heart overcharged; think you my children are dearer to me than yourself? That pure affection we acknowledged, springing from a source Divine, is the fundamental cause that our children are now in being; they present to us an external living evidence of our conjugal union, registered in heaven. Subordinate to it the maternal tie. Oh! who more than myself can feel the powerful influence, the claims of those precious innocents upon my affections! Reflect a moment, inwardly reflect, and you cannot but draw the inference, that however indispensable duties are attached to either, the conjugal must hold the precedence."
"Incomparable woman!" exclaimed De Brooke, "excellent wife! such elevated, such superior reasoning, can it fail to convince me? who could resist its force? What are my griefs? they fade to my view in the superlative happiness of possessing, thee! Blessed are my children, infinitely blessed in possessing such a mother! Oh! could my father hear the heavenly eloquence of her tongue!"
The door burst open; the little Aubrey springing forward, exclaimed, "Robert says we are to stay here; how glad I am, papa, that we are not to leave you any more!" The smile of satisfaction on the faces of his parents was soon reflected on his own, and obtaining from them the promise of not returning to Kennington, he bounded away to renew his sports with his sisters.