The Convict: A Tale

by G. P. R. James

"Perhaps so," replied the young officer, with a courteous inclination of the head; and the subject dropped, much to Eda's relief.

She was destined, however, in the course of that evening to meet with a new subject of anxiety and annoyance. Lord Hadley, without actually getting at all tipsy, took enough wine after dinner to render him overbearing and irritable; and when Dudley seated himself beside her for a moment in the drawing-room, and said a few words to her in a low tone, the young peer instantly cut across their conversation, and in a haughty and domineering manner, gave a flat contradiction to something which his tutor had asserted.

Although of an amiable, and usually of a placable disposition, Dudley instantly retorted in severe terms: his growing contempt for the young peer overcoming his ordinary command over himself. Lord Hadley's words grew high, and tones loud; Edgar Adelon and the young officer, who had been one at the dinner-table, drew near; and the former listened with evident satisfaction to the severe castigation which the peer received at the hands of Mr. Dudley. It was given without loss of temper, but yet with an unsparing and a powerful hand; and the young man, almost furious, exposed himself every moment more and more, while the contemptuous smile of Edgar Adelon rendered his punishment still more bitter. The presence of Miss Brandon acted as a certain restraint; and as the eyes of several ladies in the room turned upon them, Lord Hadley, with a burning heart and a flushed cheek, turned away and left the room, while Edgar, with a laugh, muttered, "It will do him good;" and Dudley calmly resumed his conversation with Eda.

Miss Brandon, however, was herself much agitated and alarmed; and in the course of the evening, as the company from time to time broke into different groups, she took the opportunity of saying, at a moment when they were unobserved, "For pity's sake, Edward, do not let the dispute go any farther with that foolish young man. Remember, he is but a boy, in mind at all events, and really unworthy of your notice."

"Oh! fear not, dear Eda," replied Dudley; "for your sake, if for nothing else, I would not suffer such an idle dispute to deviate into a direct quarrel. But the relations between him and me must be immediately altered. As long as he thought fit to demean himself as a gentleman and a man of honour, there seemed to be nothing degrading in the position that I held. Now, however, the case is different."

Other persons coming up prevented their farther conversation; and when the guests had taken their leave, Eda retired, not to rest, but to think over events which were the cause of no slight anxiety. Slowly undressing, she dismissed her maid, and sitting down before the table, wrapped in her dressing-gown, meditated painfully over the probable result. The moments often fly fast in thought as well as in activity; and Eda, in surprise, heard a clock which stood near her door strike one, while she was still sitting at the table. She rose to go to bed, but at that moment a curious sound caught her ear. It seemed to proceed from the park, and was that of a dull, heavy tramp, sometimes sounding louder, sometimes softer, sometimes distinctly measured, sometimes varied into a mere rustle. It struck her as very curious; and although she tried to persuade herself that it was a herd of deer passing over the gravel in the avenue, yet she was not satisfied, and proceeding to a window, drew back the curtains and gazed out.

The moon was not yet to be seen in the sky, but still her approaching light shed a certain degree of lustre before her. The night was certainly clearer than it had appeared shortly after sunset, and the stars were more faint and pale. From the left-hand side of the park, moving rapidly across the wide open space in front of the house, at a distance of not more than a hundred yards, a stream of dark human figures was seen, tending towards the opposite side, where the stile led down into the little valley with the stream and the old priory. There seemed to be between two and three hundred men, principally walking two and two; but every here and there in the line, they were gathered into a little knot, and apparently carrying some heavy mass upon their shoulders. At one spot within sight they halted, and one of the burdens which they carried was shifted to the shoulders of fresh bearers, displaying to the eyes of Eda, as the change was effected, an object which, to imagination, looked much like the form of a man. It seemed very heavy, however, and took at least eight or ten persons to carry it. It required some time, too, to move it from one set of shoulders to another; and when the party marched on again, Eda said to herself, "This must be a train of those misguided men, the Chartists. How bold of them to come across the park! I trust my uncle has nothing to do with them; but I almost fear it."

Even as the thought passed through her mind, a single figure came forth from the terrace just below her, and followed upon the track of the others. The form, however, was too slight and graceful for that of Sir Arthur Adelon. It was that of a young and lightly made man; and Eda at once recognised her cousin Edgar.

The moment she did so, she threw open the window, and leaning out, spoke to him in a low voice. "What is all this, Edgar?" she said. "Who are those men, and what are they about?"

"I do not know, pretty cousin," he answered; "but I am going to see."