“Plead for L’Estrange!” Nora had not been exactly aware of this,—in the sudden love preceding those sudden nuptials, so little touching Harley (beyond Audley’s first timid allusions to his suit, and her calm and cold reply) had been spoken by either.
Levy resumed. He dwelt fully on the trust and the breach of it, and then said: “In Egerton’s world, man holds it far more dishonour to betray a man than to dupe a woman; and if Egerton could do the one, why doubt that he would do the other? But do not look at me with those indignant eyes. Put himself to the test; write to him to say that the suspicions amidst which you live have become intolerable, that they infect even yourself, despite your reason, that the secrecy of your nuptials, his prolonged absence, his brief refusal, on unsatisfactory grounds, to proclaim your tie, all distract you with a terrible doubt. Ask him, at least (if he will not yet declare your marriage), to satisfy you that the rites were legal.”
“I will go to him,” cried Nora, impetuously.
“Go to him!—in his own house! What a scene, what a scandal! Could he ever forgive you?”
“At least, then, I will implore him to come here. I can not write such horrible words; I cannot! I cannot! Go, go!” Levy left her, and hastened to two or three of Audley’s most pressing creditors,—men, in fact, who went entirely by Levy’s own advice. He bade them instantly surround Audley’s country residence with bailiffs. Before Egerton could reach Nora, he would thus be lodged in a jail. These preparations made, Levy himself went down to Audley, and arrived, as usual, an hour or two before the delivery of the post.
And Nora’s letter came; and never was Audley’s grave brow more dark than when he read it. Still, with his usual decision, he resolved to obey her wish,—rang the bell, and ordered his servant to put up a change of dress, and send for post-horses.
Levy then took him aside, and led him to the window. “Look under yon trees. Do you see those men? They are bailiffs. This is the true reason why I come to you to-day. You cannot leave this house.”
Egerton recoiled. “And this frantic, foolish letter at such a time!” he muttered, striking the open page, full of love in the midst of terror, with his clenched hand. O Woman, Woman! if thy heart be deep, and its chords tender, beware how thou lovest the man with whom all that plucks him from the hard cares of the workday world is frenzy or a folly! He will break thy heart, he will shatter its chords, he will trample out from its delicate framework every sound that now makes musical the common air, and swells into unison with the harps of angels.
“She has before written to me,” continued Audley, pacing the room with angry, disordered strides, “asking me when our marriage can be proclaimed, and I thought my replies would have satisfied any reasonable woman. But now, now this is worse, immeasurably worse,—she actually doubts my honour! I, who have made such sacrifices,—actually doubts whether I, Audley Egerton, an English gentleman, could have been base enough to—”
“What?” interrupted Levy, “to deceive your friend L’Estrange? Did not she know that?”