"I will have revenge," cried the lady, fiercely; "I care for nought else, but I will have revenge; I will make him a public scoff and a scorn; I will torture him in a court of justice; I will break his proud heart under the world's contempt--try not to stop me, Moreton, for I will have revenge. You think of nothing but money; but vengeance will be sweeter to me, than all the gold of earth."
"There are different sorts of revenge," answered Moreton, quietly; "and, depend upon it, that which I propose is much more terrible. Once he is married, and quietly informed that you are still living, think what pleasant tortures he would undergo, year after year, as long as you pleased. You would stand behind him like an unseen, but not unfelt fate, shadowing his whole existence with a dark cloud. Every hour he would live in terror of discovery, and shame, and punishment. He would never see a stranger, or receive a letter, without the hasty fears rising up in his heart. He would picture to himself the breaking up of all his domestic joys; he would see 'bastard' written on the face of every child; and his heart would wither and shrivel up, I tell you, like a fallen leaf in the autumn. Sleep would be banished from his bed; appetite from his table; cheerfulness from his hearth; peace from his whole life. Even the sweet cup of love itself would turn to poison on his lips; and our vengeance would be permanent, perpetual, undecaying. This is the sort of revenge for me!"
"It does not suit me!" cried the lady; "It does not suit me; I will have it at once; I will see him crushed and withering; I will feast my eyes upon his misery. No, no; such slow, silent vengeance for the cold-blooded and the calm. I tell you, you shall not stop me," she continued, fiercely, seeing that he listened to her with a degree of chilling tranquillity, which she did not love. "You may take what course you will; but I will take mine."
"Excellent!" said Captain Moreton, sneeringly; "excellent, my gentle Charlotte; but let me just hint, that we must act together. You can do nothing without me; I can stop it all at a word. Pray, recollect a little hint I gave you the other night; and now, that the moment is come for drawing the greatest advantages from that, which we have been so long labouring to attain, do not drive me to spoil all your plans, by attempting to spoil mine."
"Ha!" said the lady; "ha!" but she proceeded no further; and, sinking into herself, walked up and down musingly for several minutes, at the end of which time she began to hum snatches of an Italian song. Captain Moreton, who knew well her variable humours, thought that the mood was changed; but he was mistaken. He had planted that, of which he was to reap the fruit ere long.
In the meantime, the boy Billy Lamb, having closed, as we have said, the garden-gate, lingered for a moment, and then took his way across the common in the direction of Stephen Gimlet's house, which was at the distance of about a mile and a half. He went at a quick pace, but two or three times he stopped, and thought deeply. He was an observing boy, and saw and heard more than people imagined. He was a boy of very strong feelings also, and he had conceived a strong affection for Beauchamp, which made any thing that affected that gentleman a matter of deep interest to him. Thus, the first time he stopped he repeated to himself the incautious words the lady had uttered, syllable for syllable. "He may have guests at his marriage he does not expect," said the boy, meditating. "She looked mighty fierce too. I wonder what she meant? No good, I'm sure, by the way her eyes went."
He then walked on again about half a mile further; and this time it was a narrow lane he halted in. "You see, our trout has bit at the fly!" repeated Billy Lamb, evidently showing that he had heard a part, at least, of what had passed after he left the garden; "that trout he talked of must be Mr. Beauchamp--that's to say, the lord. I can't make it out. I'll tell Stephen: he seems to know a good deal about them all; or that good, kind Captain Hayward. He's a great friend of this lord's, and will let him know; for they mean him harm, or I am mistaken."
When he reached Stephen Gimlet's cottage, however, and opened the door, he found the outer room only tenanted by the little boy, who was standing upon a stool, looking over the pages of a large, old Bible, illustrated with some grotesque engravings, in which Adam and Eve, very naked, indeed, the serpent, with a human head in large curls, very much like that of a Chancery barrister; the same personage, in the conventional form of a satyr, together with a number of angels; and Noah's ark with all its beasts figured conspicuously.
In turning his head sharply round to see who it was that came in, the child let fall the leaves that were in his hand upon those opposite; and instantly out flew an old time-stained scrip of paper, which made a gyration in the air before it reached the floor. The boy instantly darted after it, and picked it up before Billy Lamb could see what it was. The pot-boy would then have taken it out of his hand; but the other would not give it up, saying, with a screaming tone,
"No, no, no! it is granny's;" and the same moment the voice of Widow Lamb was heard from the inner room, demanding,