Dogberry. Marry, sir, they have committed false report;
moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are
slanders; sixth, and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly,
they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are
lying knaves.
Shakspeare.
The answers which the returning fugitives received to their letters during their journey back to London, were ill calculated to restore them to serenity. Helen acknowledged her brother's account of his marriage in a letter, which all her affection could not prevent from betraying her grief; and Polydore Riches, in another, did not attempt to conceal his disapproval and regret. And he communicated to Randolph the information he had received from Mr. Winter that proceedings were already begun to deprive him and his sister of the little personal property which they might fancy was still their own, and that so far the lawyer saw no hope of resisting the attempt with success. On the other hand, Gertrude, seriously alarmed at the state of depression into which Mrs. Pendarrel had fallen, could not help pointing out to her sister the consequences of her imprudence. "Why did you not come to me?" she wrote; "why did you not rely upon the support which I always promised? It might have been only a temporary succour, but time might have done everything. You little think, perhaps, how much distress you have occasioned by your haste."
These letters led to a painful scene between the travellers. It was true that in what they said self-reproach predominated, and they did not accuse each other. But that which wears the appearance of confession, must also show like repentance. And so when Randolph, with much bitterness, charged himself with having brought his wife to misery, his words seemed to imply a desire to undo what was irrevocable. And when Mildred blamed herself for her mother's anguish, her husband might think she regretted her devotion to him. Each tacitly acknowledged the futility of the arguments by which they had before justified their step; and each, while pretending to accept the fault, was jealous of the manner in which the other claimed it.
Yet they loved one another passionately and devotedly; but they found that passion was not happiness, and that devotedness was not esteem. Tell them they must part, and they would rush to one another, and vow it should only be in death. Remind them how they met, and they would shrink from one another, and hang their heads in sorrow. When they thought only of themselves, their hearts beat together with a tenderness that seemed inexhaustible. When they remembered those who ought to be their friends, they turned away from each other with a sadness that chilled their blood. Now there are twenty-four hours between two risings of the sun, and even newly-married lovers cannot be looking into one another's eyes the whole of the time. Let Randolph and his bride hasten to town before they are weary of the day.
There, friends are still assiduous in their behalf. Hopeless, at present, or imprudent, it may be to try to soothe the wounded heart of a mother; better, perhaps, to wait until the first irritation has subsided. But this new piece of chicane may stimulate our zeal in unravelling what we believe to have been a foul plot. Surely some clue must be discoverable to the intricacies of this curious law-story. It is what Rereworth thinks; consoling himself for the loss of those pleasant hours when he disentangled skeins of silk. For Helen is sad, and sees no company now. Nay, Mrs. Winston thinks her residence at her house is growing a questionable point, and her husband, the philosopher, owns that it may become awkward. Yet she shall sojourn a little longer, although an apartment is vacant for her at the peachery, and Polydore Riches is there alone, and would be glad of his old pupil's society.
At length there arises a gleam of hope. Fortune may have swung the orphans' lot past the lowermost point of her wheel. Rereworth found a note on his breakfast-table at chambers one morning, containing an invitation which almost banished his appetite, although it promised no support for the body.
The rendezvous was appointed at an obscure locality in Lambeth. Seymour took a boat at the Temple-stairs, told the waterman his destination, and desired to be landed as near it as possible.
"Ask your pardon, sir," said red jacket, tossing his sculls into the rowlocks, "that's a queer place for a gentleman to want."