CHAPTER XIII.
Reveals various curious particulars; of which the mysterious disappearance of Jane is not the least.
IN the desperate state of things implied by the proceedings last recorded, it will not be marvelled at that measures equally desperate should have been projected by Colin in conjunction with his friend Roger; though eminently calculated, provided they could but be carried out, to bring him that final satisfaction which it appeared impossible for him to attain through any other more moderate course.
Roger's general conduct towards Colin, throughout the affair, had inspired the latter with every confidence in him, and the certainty of being able to command his services in any enterprise which had the happiness of Jane and himself for its object. Nothing indeed but that confidence could possibly have induced Colin to take the earliest opportunity that offered, after the scenes described in the preceding chapter, to draw Mr. Roger Calvert into an unobserved part of the house, and propose to him that they should settle the matter at once and for ever in a manner already suggested,—that is, through the medium of an elopement during the night. Colin argued that it was now sufficiently evident he had no chance of succeeding unless by resorting to that gentle violence just alluded to. He contended that Mr. and Mrs. Calvert would never give way without it,—that if once done it would afford them a capital excuse for reconciling themselves to the match, when such reconciliation had become a matter of necessity, without involving them in any of that unpleasant compromise of principle, as they supposed it, which at present constituted the great obstacle to their union.
He even ventured to suggest, that very possibly if they could be made aware of his projected attempt, they would secretly feel inclined to connive at it,—seeing that at least Jane's happiness would be for ever destroyed, if even her very life were not sacrificed, were not something done to avert those consequences of parental opposition which now seemed to hang over them. As for himself—without her, happiness for him in any situation, or under any circumstances, was totally out of the question. He felt assured of the impossibility of his living other than a miserable life, and dying a death at last which disappointment and misfortune had rendered welcome. He concluded by beseeching his friend, as he knew his honourable intentions, as he recognised the justice of his suit, and felt at once for his sister's unhappiness and his own, to give him his support and assistance in carrying out such a project.
“I should decidedly say,” replied Roger, “you have good cause for eloping under the circumstances—that is, supposing Jane herself has no objection; and I assure you it is what I myself should do in the same situation.”
Thus supported, Colin entered on his design with increased alacrity and spirit; but as his final leave of Jane was now understood to have been taken, he had no ready means of communicating with her upon the subject, except through the agency of her brother Roger. He, however, very readily undertook the task of informing his sister of the design, as he considered it absolutely scandalous that the happiness of two young people's lives should be utterly blighted simply because her parents entertained notions which, however conscientious, by no means (in his opinion) could justify for a moment their perseverance in measures of so important and violent a character.
It was, therefore, agreed between them, that, in order the more successfully to carry on their plan, Colin should that night take a respectful leave of the family under the impression, on their parts, of never seeing him again; but that, instead of quitting London, he should only retire to some hotel, or to a friend's house, where he could remain until such time as matters were arranged for his and Jane's departure together. This accordingly he did, quitting Mr. Calvert's house not without considerable grief on the part of all who dwelt beneath the roof, except Roger himself, though, on Colin's own part, with such a poor, miserable exhibition of sorrow, considering the unfortunate situation in which he was placed, that the good Calverts were quite astonished thereat, and, after he was gone, began very strongly to suspect that, after all, there was not half the feeling and excellence in him they had previously been led to believe. He had not produced even a single tear on the occasion; while Mrs. Calvert spoke almost positively to a certain something like a smile lurking about his mouth, which she had observed at the very moment when her husband had so feelingly remarked to him that, while he wished him well on earth, perhaps the next time they met it would be in heaven. Yet the hard-hearted young man did not seem so much as to think of crying even at that, but actually took it as coolly as though he were going to meet them all again in the course of two or three days from that identical night. These things certainly had a strange look, though they might possibly be the result, not so much of indifference, as of an heroic determination, on his part, to disguise his sorrows until the painful trial was over. Roger was appealed to for judgment in the case, but he professed to have no power over other men's bosoms, nor ability in discovering the profundities of their springs of action. But the truth of the matter was, that while Roger enjoyed excellent reasons within himself for keeping the secret, he also felt materially disinclined for conversation. The departure of his friend had put a seal upon his tongue; while it had likewise rendered him uncommonly anxious to see how his sister Jane bore it, and to offer her such consolation under the circumstances as might chance to lie in his power.
When, at length, Roger went to see her, he found her sitting alone, as she had particularly begged to be left, looking more like a spirit in the twilight than an embodied creature.