“Lady Charles is most grateful, sir,” said Frobisher, with a cold sneer. “I am sure the show of feeling she evinces must repay all your generosity.” And, with, this base speech, he drew her arm within his, and moved hastily away. One look towards Cashel, as she turned to go, told more forcibly than words the agony of her broken heart.
And this was the once gay, light-hearted girl,—the wild and daring romp, whose buoyant spirit seemed above every reverse of fortune. Poor Jemima Meek! she had run away from her father's home to link her lot with a gambler! Some play transaction, in which his name was involved, compelled him to quit the service, and at last the country. Now depending for support upon his family, now hazarding his miserable means at play, he had lived a life of recklessness and privation,—nothing left to him of his former condition save the name that he had brought down to infamy!
CHAPTER XXXVII. ALL MYSTERY CEASES—MARRIAGE AND GENERAL JOY
“The end of all.”
What a contrast did Roland Cashel's life now present to the purposeless vacuity of his late existence! Every hour was occupied; even to a late period of each night was he engaged by cares which seemed to thicken around him as he advanced.
We should but weary our reader were we to follow him in the ceaseless round of duties which hard necessity imposed. Each morning his first visit was to the hospital of St. Louis, where Keane still lay, weakly struggling against a malady whose fatal termination was beyond a doubt; and although Roland could not wish for the prolongation of a life which the law would demand in expiation, he felt a craving desire that the testimony of the dying man should be full and explicit on every point, and that every dubious circumstance should be explained ere the grave closed over him.
To seek for Maritaña, to endeavor to recover this poor forlorn girl, was his next care, and to this end he spared nothing. Whatever money could purchase, or skill and unwearied enterprise suggest, were all employed in the search. Rica, whose nature seemed totally changed by the terrible shock of Linton's culpability, gave himself up implicitly to Cashel's guidance, and was unceasing in his efforts to discover his missing child. But with all the practised acuteness of the police at their command, and all the endeavors which their zeal could practise, the search was fruitless, and not a trace of her could be detected.
Through the Neapolitan Embassy, orders were transmitted to Naples to inquire into the case of Enrique, whose innocence the testimony of Keane went far to establish. The result was, as Cashel ardently hoped, his complete vindication, and a telegraphic despatch brought tidings that he was already liberated, and on his way to Paris. While both Roland and Rica waited impatiently for the arrival of one whose assistance in their search would be so valuable, the most perfect good understanding grew up between them, and Cashel began to perceive how, beneath the vices which a life of reckless debauchery had created, there lay—inactive and unused for many a day—kindly feelings and warm affections for which he had never given him credit. As this confidence grew stronger, Rica became more frank and open in all his intercourse, and at last revealed to Cashel the whole story of his life,—a strange, eventful history, whose vicissitudes were the changing fortunes of a gambler's existence. For such was he,—without a passion, a pursuit of any kind but play, he had passed his life in that one baneful vice. For it he had toiled and labored: to indulge that passion he had engaged in deadly duels, and perilled his life by acts of forgery.
His marriage with Corrigan's daughter was brought about solely to procure the means of play; nor was there an energy of his mind or an impulse of his nature had any other direction. Linton's skill as a gambler, the unceasing resources he seemed to possess, the stratagems and devices he could deploy, created for him, in Rica's mind, a species of admiration that soon degenerated into a blind submission to all his dictates. Such an ally as this, so deeply versed in all the weak points of his fellow-men,—so thoroughly master of every impulse that moves, of every hope and fear that sways the gambler's nature,—had been the cherished desire of his heart for many a year, and now fortune bad at last given him such an associate. Their sudden success seemed to warrant the justice of the hope. Everything prospered with them since their new league. If he did not gain an equal ascendancy over the daughter's mind as he had acquired over the father's, still the ambitious future he often pictured before her, dazzled and delighted her, and thus, erelong, he contrived to obtain a degree of power, although of different kinds, over both. From such an associate as Linton concealment was impossible; and Rica soon saw himself completely at the mercy of a man who had sifted every motive of his heart, and weighed every action of his life, and at last became his pitiless, tyrannical master.