I took no formal leave of my gentle mistress, for that unnecessary infliction of pain Mr. Hartley very properly inhibited. Our parting, as she left the drawing-room for the night, was probably warmer than was customary. She little imagined that I was to start at cock-crow for embarkation; and, in the expectation of meeting me at breakfast, she sought her apartment to court the soft influence of the drowsy god in vain.
“Hector,” said Mr. Hartley, as he addressed me, “I regret that you are at this moment obliged to leave me; for something tells me that a crisis in our mutual fortunes is approaching. Were it any thing but the call of honour that takes you from England, I would at once ask you to forego it.”
“Believe me, my dear sir, never did a more unwelcome order come than that which Ï am about to obey! Could I but honourably decline it,”—-
“Oh, no—that were impossible! Wellington has assumed the offensive, and every eye in Britain will watch the progress of his arms. A country’s call is sacred, and it must be obeyed. God knows, in periling your safety, and exposing you to the common chances of war, I make a sacrifice that few could estimate. There is one tie that binds me alone to life; and, save for that alone, the sooner a spirit, soured by misfortunes, and wearied of a world it despises and detests, were freed from this ‘mortal coil,’ the better. But were I in the grave, who would watch over the happiness of that being whom I idolize?—To one only would I entrust that holy charge. Need I name him?—Yourself!”
I gratefully thanked my uncle for the~proof of confidence he had given, and he thus proceeded:
“As my life and actions must appear to you involved in mystery and concealment, it will not surprise you much when I tell you, that for years I have been intimately informed of every occurrence that happened in your father’s house. A stern necessity of secrecy obliged me to remain unknown and unsuspected. Had I been where I was supposed to be for twenty years—in the grave—I could not have been more removed from the knowledge of the world than I have been; and the reason I selected that wild and retired abode where you first found us, was to insure the incognito, which your interests and Isidora’s demanded; for, strange as it may appear, from earliest infancy, you were destined for each other.”
“You really astonish me, sir!”
“When you hear my story that surprise will cease. With my past life none were even partially acquainted but a beloved child and faithful servant. You shall know more of that dark and painful history than they ever did; and when you have heard all that I have suffered and endured, then say whether, but for one endearing tie, a life, wretched and valueless as mine, would have been worth retaining for an hour. Fill, Hector—fill freely—many a day may pass before you and I shall meet again!”
I obeyed him. Rising from the table, he took a few turns across the apartment; it seemed an exertion to regain composure; it was successful. He resumed his seat, emptied his glass to the bottom, and thus commenced, what was to me a narrative of perilous adventure, but all-engrossing interest.