“If you can support that statement by evidence, I’ll undertake,” said the lawyer, “to get you off with transportation.”
“Off with the Devil!” roared my father.
My brother smiled. “Well, uncle, you hold out a pleasant prospect, and after I have travelled at the public expense, I shall feel myself bound in gratitude to come back, improved in morals and manners, and tell you what I have seen; but after all, there will be no necessity to undertake the voyage. When the true history of this unfortunate affray is known, it will not be difficult to prove that I am blameless, and that I was neither engaged in unlawful enterprises, nor knew aught of the fatal consequences that followed. For a time, however, I will leave home, not from any fears upon my own account, but to avoid the painful duty of being called upon to criminate the guilty.”
To all, my brother’s determination seemed right. My kind-hearted parent approved the motives, and gave a ready consent. The lawyer observed, that it would afford ample time, should it be found advisable, to buy off the evidence; while George Gripp proved the value of a friend in need, by volunteering to swear an alibi himself,—an offer which elicited a warm eulogium from his virtuous patron.
In half-an-hour William came to my room to say farewell, he had made up some necessaries in a bundle, which he threw from the window to a friend, who was waiting for him in the garden.
“Julia,” he said, taking me in his arms, and kissing me with ardent affection; “Julia, I must confide to you what would pain our dear father, were it told to him—mine will not be a temporary absence. No tears, Julia; be firm, and listen to a brother who loves you tenderly as I do. The hand of destiny beckons me on; for months I have been wretched; while every post bears tidings of some glorious deed, I, in the pride of youth, am dreaming life away; my days passed idling on the beach, or listening at some cottage fire-side to the gossip of the humble villagers. This evening as I stood upon the cliffs, I saw a noble frigate close in shore, with her head turned to the coast of France. The wind fell, not a breath ruffled her canvas, and as she lay motionless on the sea, I could almost look down upon her decks. Presently a boat was lowered, and it pulled directly for the cove a league eastward from our landing-place, to obtain fresh water at the spring. Before that boat returns, I shall have time to board the frigate. Hold, Julia; nothing can shake that resolution, and, therefore, listen to me attentively. When I am gone, you must be to our father all—for then you will be his only stay, his only comfort. You must watch his declining years, cheer him when he droops, smile with him when he’s happy in illness, your task will be to smooth his pillow; in death, your hand must close his eyes. Come, Julia, no weeping. If it be fated that I fall, except you and the old man, few will weep for me. If I return, it will be ‘with war’s red honours on my crest,’ to gladden my father’s age, and find some one to whom I can safely entrust thy happiness, dear Julia—one, who can estimate the value of a woman, whose thoughts are pure and cloudless as the light of yonder blessed moon.”
My conscience smote me bitterly as William again pressed me to his breast; I felt the burning blush of shame steal over my pale cheeks, as my heart whispered how much I had deceived that brother, who believed me incapable of artifice or concealment; and though the confession of my offence must be humiliating, I determined that it should be made. From him I might not only ask for pardon, but advice; and the words were almost upon my lips, when suddenly a voice from below was heard in under tones.
“William!” said the stranger, “the signal’s given. See, that rocket bursting in the air! the boat’s returning to the frigate.”
“Then, there’s not a moment to be lost.”
“Stop! my brother,” I exclaimed; “stop, for pity’s sake. Oh! I have much, very much to tell you.”