CHAPTER XXII
ISHMAEL'S VISIT TO BEE.
Thank Heaven my first love failed,
As every first love should.
—Palmore.
Ishmael mounted and rode off, calling only at the hotel to say good- by to the judge and renew his promise of a punctual return.
Then he galloped blithely away; crossed the beautiful Anacostia, by the Navy Yard bridge; and gayly took the road to the old St. Mary's.
Gayly? Yes, gayly, notwithstanding all.
To be sure he was sorry for Claudia; and he proved it by consenting, at a great sacrifice of his personal interests, to cross the ocean and go to her assistance. But he had faith in the doctrine that— "Ever the right comes uppermost"; and he believed that she would be delivered from her troubles. And his compassion for Claudia did not prevent him from rejoicing exceedingly in the speedy prospect of meeting Bee. Besides he no longer loved Claudia, except with that Christian kindliness which he cherished for every member of the human family.
You may be sure that the sickly, sentimental, sinful folly of loving another man's wife, even if she had been, before her marriage, his own early passion, was very far below Ishmael's healthy, rational, and honorable nature. No nerve in his bosom vibrated to the sound of Claudia's name. The passion of his heart was perfectly cured; its wounds were quite healed; even its scars were effaced. He could have smiled at the memory of that ill-starred passion now.
He was heart-whole, and his whole heart—his sound, large loving heart—was unreservedly given to Bee.
And therefore, notwithstanding his compassion for the misfortunes of Claudia, he rode gayly on to his anticipated meeting with his betrothed.
It was a fine, frosty, bracing, winter morning; the roads were good; and the horse was fresh; and he enjoyed his ride exceedingly, rejoicing in his youth, health, and happy, well-placed love.
He galloped all the way to Horsehead, where he arrived at noon, took an early dinner, procured a fresh horse and continued his journey.
He rode all the short, bright winter afternoon, and at dusk reached his second stopping-place, where he took an early tea, changed his horse, and started afresh.
Four more hours of riding through the leafless forest, and under the starlit sky, brought him in sight of the water; and a few minutes brought him to the door of the Beacon.
Here he sprung from his saddle; secured his horse to a post; and rushed up the front steps to the hall door and rang. An old servant opened it.
"Oh, Mr. Ishmael, sir! what a surprise! I am so glad to see you, sir."
"Thank you, Ben. How are the family?"
"All well, sir. Walk in, sir. Won't they be delighted to see you!" said the old man, opening a side door leading into the lighted drawing room, and announcing:
"Mr. Worth!"
There was a general jumping up of the party around the fireside, and a hasty rushing towards the visitor.
Mr. Middleton was foremost, holding out both his hands, and exclaiming:
"Why, how do you do? Is this you? This is a surprise! Where did you drop from?"
"Washington, sir," replied Ishmael, returning the handshaking, and then passing on to meet the ready welcome of Mrs. Middleton and the young folks.
"How do you do, Mrs. Middleton? Dearest Bee—it is such joy to meet you!" he said, as he returned the lady's greeting, and pressed the maiden's hand to his lips.
Bee was fairer, fresher, and lovelier than ever, as she stood there, blushing, but delighted to see him.
"How do you do, Worth?" spoke another deep voice.
Ishmael looked up suddenly, and saw his father standing before him.
The latter had approached from a distant part of the room.
"Mr. Brudenell—you here? This is indeed a pleasant surprise!" said the young man joyfully.
"Mutually so, I assure you, Ishmael."
"When did you arrive, sir?"
"Only this afternoon. I came up to take the Shelton boat, that goes to Washington on Monday. My dislike to Sunday traveling decided me to come up to-day, and quarter myself on our friend Middleton for the Sabbath, so as to be in readiness to catch the 'Errand Boy' on Monday."
"You were coming to see me, I hope, sir?"
"Not purposely, my dear fellow. I had other business, less pleasant but more pressing. I should have called on you, however, though I could not have stayed long; for I must go by the Monday evening train to Boston, in order to catch the 'Oceana,' that sails on Wednesday morning. I am off by her."
"Indeed, sir!" exclaimed Ishmael, in surprise and delight. "Why, I am going to Europe by the 'Oceana '!"
"You!" responded the elder man, in equal surprise and pleasure.
"Why, what on earth should take you to Europe?"
"I go on strictly confidential business with Judge Merlin."
"Merlin going to England, too? Oh, I see!"
The last three words were uttered in a low tone, and with a total change of manner, that struck Ishmael with the suspicion that Mr. Brudenell knew more of Lady Vincent's troubles than anyone on this side of the ocean, except her father and himself, was supposed to know.
"Going to Europe, Ishmael? you and the judge? Well, Merlin did start off at a tangent yesterday from Tanglewood. I suppose he is pining after his child, and has taken a sudden freak to rush over and see her. And as you are the staff of his age, of course, he would not think of undertaking so long a journey without the support of your company. Am I right?" inquired Mr. Middleton jollily.
"Judge Merlin is going to see Lady Vincent, and has invited me to accompany him, and I have accepted the invitation," answered the young man.
"Exactly, precisely, just so. But I wonder how the son of Powhatan, Merlin of Tanglewood, who could scarcely breathe out of the boundless wilderness, will like to sojourn in that cleared-up, trim, tidy, well-packed little island!" laughed Mr. Middleton; while Mr. Brudenell looked down, and slowly nodded his head.
Meanwhile Bee's careful, affectionate eyes noticed that Ishmael was very tired, and she said something in a low voice to her father.
"To be sure—to be sure, my dear. I ought to have thought of that myself. Ishmael, my boy, you have ridden hard to-day; you look fagged. Go right up into your own room now—you know where to find it; it is the same one you occupied when you were here last, kept sacred to you; and I will send up Ben to rub you down and curry you well; and by the time he has done that Bee will have the provender ready," said Mr. Middleton, whose delight at seeing his welcome visitor hurried him into all sorts of absurdities.
Ishmael smiled, bowed, and withdrew.
Half an hour afterwards, when he returned to the drawing room, looking, as Mr. Middleton said, "well-groomed and much refreshed," Mrs. Middleton touched the bell; the doors leading into the dining room were thrown open; and the guests were invited to sit down to a delicious supper of fresh fish, oysters, crabs, and waterfowl, which had been spread there in honor of Mr. Brudenell's arrival; but which was equally appropriate to Ishmael's welcome presence.
After supper, when they returned to the drawing room, Ishmael found an opportunity of saying aside to his host that he wished to have some private conversation with him that night.
Accordingly, when the evening circle had broken up and each had withdrawn to his or her own apartment, and Ishmael found himself alone in his chamber, he heard a rap at his door, and on bidding the rapper come in, saw Mr. Middleton enter.
"I have come at your request, Ishmael," he said, taking the chair that the young man immediately placed for him.
"Thank you, sir; I wished to confide to you the cause of Judge
Merlin's sudden journey to England," said Ishmael gravely.
"Why, to see his daughter!" exclaimed Mr. Middleton, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, it is to see Lady Vincent. But Mr. Middleton, her ladyship is in great sorrow and greater danger," said the young man, speaking more gravely than before.
"Sorrow and danger! What are you talking of, Ishmael?" inquired Mr.
Middleton, knitting his brows in perplexity.
"Lady Vincent is separated from her husband, who has filed a petition for divorce from her," said Ishmael solemnly.
The exclamation of amazement and indignation that burst from Mr.
Middleton's lips was rather too profane to be recorded here.
"Yes, sir; it is so," sighed Ishmael.
"Who says this?" demanded Mr. Middleton, in a voice of suppressed fury.
"She herself says it, sir, in a letter to her father, who has commissioned me to impart the facts in confidence to yourself. Here are the letters he received and desired me to hand to you for perusal. They are numbered one, two, three. Read them in that order, and they will put you in possession of the whole affair, as far as is known to any of us over here."
Mr. Middleton grasped the letters, and one after another devoured their contents.
"This first letter is nearly two months old! Why has it not been acted upon before?" he demanded, in an angry manner, that proved he would have liked to quarrel with somebody.
"It was not received until two days since. It was miscarried and it went half around the world before it reached its proper destination," said Ishmael equably.
"But what does it all mean, then? What plot is this alluded to? And who is in it?"
"Mr. Middleton, we know no more than you now do. We know no more than the letters that you have just read tell us."
"But why, in the name of Heaven, then, could these letters not have been more explicit? Claudia was alone at McGruder's Hotel! Where were her servants? A plot was formed against her! Who formed it? Why could she not have satisfied us upon these subjects?" exclaimed Mr. Middleton vehemently.
"Sir, each letter seems to have been written under the spur of imminent necessity. Perhaps there was no time to enter fully upon the subject; perhaps also it was one that could not be discussed through an epistolary correspondence."
"Perhaps they were all raving mad!" exclaimed Mr. Middleton excitedly. "Now what are you all to do?"
"Judge Merlin and myself are going to England, as I told you. He will support his daughter in opposing Lord Vincent's application for a divorce. I will give them all the assistance in my power to render. Of course, as I am not a member of any English bar, I cannot appear as her public advocate; but I will serve her to the utmost of my ability as a private counselor. I will make myself master of the case and use my best efforts to discover and expose the conspiracy against her. And if I succeed, I will do my best to have the conspirators punished. For in England, fortunately, conspiracy against the life, property, or character of any person or persons is a felony, punishable by penal servitude. Fortunately, also, in the criminal courts of England the peer finds no more favor than the peasant. And if the Lord Viscount Vincent is prosecuted to conviction he will stand as good a chance of transportation to the penal colonies as the meanest confederate he has employed," said Ishmael.
"I wish he may be! I'd make a voyage to Sydney myself for the sake of seeing him working in a chain-gang. I hate the fellow, and always did."
"I never liked him," candidly admitted Ishmael; "but still it is not in the spirit of vengeance, but of stern justice, that I shall devote every faculty of my mind and body to the duty of exposing and convicting him."
"I declare to you, Ishmael, 'vengeance' and 'stern justice' look so much alike to me, that, as the darkies say, I cannot tell 't'other from which.'"
"There is a distinction, however," said Ishmael.
"But, under either name, I hope the villainous Viscount Vincent (I didn't mean to make that alliteration, however) will get his full measure of retribution! You go by the 'Oceana' on Wednesday, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, success to you! Poor Claudia! I hope she will be vindicated. I will talk farther of this with you to-morrow, after church. Now I see that you are very weary and need repose. Good-night! God bless you, my dear boy."
Very early the next morning Ishmael arose, and after making his toilet and offering up his devotions, he went out to refresh himself by a stroll on the beach that fine winter morning.
Very exhilarating it was to him, coming from the crowded city, to saunter up and down the sands, letting his eyes wander over the broad, sun-lit waters and the winding, wooded shores.
He watched the latest, hardier fish, not yet driven to warmer climes, leap up through the sparkling ripples and disappear again.
He watched the waterfowl start up in flocks from some near brake, and, spreading their broad wings, sail far away over the bright emerald-green waves.
Along the shore he noted the sly, brown squirrel peep at him from her hole, and then hop quickly out of sight; and the hardy little snow-bird light at his feet and then dart swiftly away.
Very dear to Ishmael were all these little darlings of nature. They had been the playfellows of his boyhood; and something of the boy survived in Ishmael yet, as it does in every pure young man. It is only sin that destroys youthfulness.
Sometimes he watched a distant sail disappear below the horizon, and followed her in imagination over the seas, and thought with youthful delight how soon he too would be on the deep blue waves of mid- ocean.
A step and a voice roused him from his reverie.
"Good-morning, Ishmael! I saw you walking here from my window and came out to join you."
"Oh, good-morning, Mr. Brudenell!" exclaimed the young man, turning with a glad smile to meet the elder one.
Mr. Brudenell took the arm of Ishmael, and, leaning rather heavily on it, joined him in his walk.
"I know why Judge Merlin and yourself are going to England," he said.
"I thought you did. But I could not, and cannot now, conceive how you should have found out; since we ourselves knew nothing about the unfortunate affair until a day or two since; and it is one of a strictly private and domestic nature," replied Ishmael.
"Strictly private and domestic? Why, Ishmael, it may have been so in the beginning; but now it is public and patent. All England is ringing with the affair. It is the last sensation story that the reporters have got hold of. It was from the London papers received by the last mail that I learned the news," said Mr. Brudenell, taking from his pocket the "Times," "Post," and "Chronicle."
Ishmael hastily glanced over the accounts of the affair as contained in each of these. But though the articles were long and wordy they afforded him no new information.
They told him what he already knew; that the Viscount Vincent had filed a petition for divorce from his viscountess on the ground of infidelity; that the lady was the daughter of an American chief- justice; that she was a beauty and an heiress; that Lord Vincent had formed her acquaintance at the President's house during his official visit to Washington; that he had married her during the past summer; and after an extended bridal tour had brought her in October to Castle Cragg, when the suspicions that led to subsequent discovery and ultimate separation were first aroused, etc., etc., etc.
"All that is very unsatisfactory. I wish we knew the suspicious circumstances," said Mr. Brudenell.
"I believe there were no suspicious circumstances. I believe the whole affair to be a conspiracy against Lady Vincent," said Ishmael.
"But what motive could the viscount have for conspiracy against her?"
"The motive of getting rid of her, while he retains her fortune, which most unluckily was not settled upon herself."
While Mr. Brudenell stood gazing with consternation upon the speaker, there came flying from the house a negro boy, who said that he was sent to tell them that the breakfast was ready.
They returned to the house and joined the family at the cheerful breakfast table. It was a large party that met in the parlor afterwards to go to church.
And a gig in addition to the capacious family carriage was in attendance.
"Ishmael," said Mr. Middleton, in the kindly thoughtfulness of his nature, "you will drive Bee in the gig. The rest of us will go in the carriage."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Middleton," answered the young man, as he smilingly led his betrothed to the gig, placed her in it and seated himself beside her.
"Go on—go on ahead! We shall not ride over you in our lumbering old coach!" said Mr. Middleton.
Ishmael nodded, took the reins, and started. The road lay along the high banks of the river above the sands.
"How delightful it is to spend this day with you, dear Bee!" he said, as they bowled along.
"Oh, yes! and it is delightful to us all to have you here, Ishmael!" she said; and then, with a slight depression in her tone, she inquired:
"Will you be gone to Europe long?"
"No, dearest Bee. I shall dispatch the business that takes me there as quickly as I can and hasten back," he replied; but he forbore to hint the nature of this business; it was a subject with which he did not wish to wound the delicate ear of Bee Middleton.
"I hope you will enjoy your voyage," she said, smiling on him.
"I wish you were going with me, dearest Bee. I had looked forward to the pleasure of our seeing Europe together when we should go there for the first time. And the continent we will see together; for I shall go no farther than England. I shall reserve France, Italy, Germany, and Russia for our tour next autumn, dear Bee."
She smiled on him with sympathetic delight. But as the road here, quite on the edge of the banks, required the most careful driving, the lovers' conversation ceased for a while.
And presently they were at the Shelton church. The congregation were in luck that day. A celebrated preacher, who happened to be visiting the neighborhood, occupied the pulpit. He preached from the text, "Come up higher." And his discourse was a stirring call upon his hearers to strive after perfection. All were pleased, instructed, and inspired.
When the services were concluded, our party returned home in the same order in which they had come. And as there was no afternoon service, they spent the remainder of the day in the enjoyment of each other's company and conversation.
Bee and Ishmael were mercifully left to themselves, to make the most of the few hours before their separation. They were not morbid sentimentalists—those two young people; they were not fearful, or doubtful, or exacting of each other. If you had chanced to overhear their conversation, you would have heard none of those entreaties, warnings, and protestations that often make up the conversation of lovers about to part for a time, and a little uncertain of each other's fidelity. They had faith, hope, and love for, and in, each other and their Creator. Ishmael never imagined such a thing as that Bee could form another attachment, or go into a decline while he was gone. And Bee had no fears either that the sea would swallow her lover, or that a rival would carry him off.
So at the end of that evening they bade each other a cheerful good- night. And the next morning, when Ishmael had bid farewell to all the family, herself included, and was in the saddle, she sent him off with a brilliant smile and a joyous:
"Heaven bless you, Ishmael! I know you will enjoy the trip."
But when he had ridden away and disappeared down the path leading through the pine woods, Bee turned into the house, ran into her mother's chamber, threw herself into her mother's arms, and burst into a flood of tears.
It is the mother that always comes in for this sort of thing. Women spare men—sometimes; but never spare each other.
"My poor child! but it isn't far, you know!"
"Oh, mamma, such a long way! I never expected to be separated so far from Ishmael."
"My dear, steam annihilates distance. Only think, it is a voyage of but ten days."
"I know. Oh, it was very foolish in me to cry. Thank Heaven, Ishmael didn't see me," said Bee, wiping her eyes, and smiling through her wet eyelashes, like a sunbeam through the rain-sprinkled foliage.
Bee would scarcely have been flesh and blood if she had not indulged in this one hearty cry; but it was the last.
She left her mother's side and went about her household duties cheerfully, and very soon she was as happy as if Ishmael had not come and gone; happier, for she followed him in imagination over the ocean and sympathized in his delight.