Marchdale

“ There is a Peter Marchdale—I don't know whether he will be your Peter Marchdale or not, my dear; though the name seems hardly likely to be common—son of the late Mr. Archibald Marchdale, Q. C., and nephew of old General Marchdale, of Whitstoke. A highly respectable and stodgy Norfolk family. I've never happened to meet the man myself, but I'm told he's a bit of an eccentric, who amuses himself globe-trotting, and writing books (novels, I believe) which nobody, so far as I am aware, ever reads. He writes under a pseudonym, Felix—I 'm not sure whether it's Mildmay or Wildmay. ”

“ Up at the castle, in her rose-and-white boudoir, Beatrice was writing a letter to a friend in England.
“Villa Floriano,” she wrote, among other words, “has been let to an Englishman—a youngish, presentable-looking creature, in a dinner jacket, with a tongue in his head, and an indulgent eye for Nature—named Peter Marchdale. Do you happen by any chance to know who he is, or anything about him?” ”

“ Oh, you know not the world of terror, on the awful brink of which you stand, when you talk of making Flora Bannerworth a wife."
"Peace! oh, peace!" said Henry.
"Nay, I know my words are unwelcome," continued Mr. Marchdale. "It happens, unfortunately for human nature, that truth and some of our best and holiest feelings are too often at variance, and hold a sad contest—"
"I will hear no more of this," cried Charles Holland.—"I will hear no more."
"I have done," said Mr. Marchdale. ”

“ Marchdale wished to go out for about a couple of hours in the evening after dark, if she felt sufficiently well to feel a sense of security without them.
Flora changed colour, and slightly trembled, and then, as if ashamed of her fears, she said,—
"Go, go; I will not detain you. Surely no harm can come to me in presence of my mother."
"We shall not be gone longer than the time I mention to you," said Henry.
"Oh, I shall be quite content. Besides, am I to be kept thus in fear all my life? Surely, surely not. I ought, too, to learn to defend myself." ”

“ I, therefore, now prophecy to you that Charles Holland will yet be so stung with horror at the circumstance of a vampyre visiting Flora, that he will never make her his wife."
"Marchdale, I differ from you most completely," said Henry. "I know that Charles Holland is the very soul of honour."
"I cannot argue the matter with you. It has not become a thing of fact. I have only sincerely to hope that I am wrong."
"You are, you may depend, entirely wrong. I cannot be deceived in Charles. ”

“ Henry sprung to his feet. His whole frame quivered with emotion; the drops of perspiration stood upon his brow, as, in, a strange, hoarse voice, he repeated the words,—
"A vampyre!"
"Even so; one who has to renew a dreadful existence by human blood—one who lives on for ever, and must keep up such a fearful existence upon human gore—one who eats not and drinks not as other men—a vampyre."
Henry dropped into his seat, and uttered a deep groan of the most exquisite anguish.
"I could echo that groan," said Marchdale, "but that I am so thoroughly bewildered I know not what to think." ”

“ Accuracy of observation is not to be measured by refinement of phrase; and though this rough sketch was delivered in coarse language, it was a correct delineation. Mr. Hartland's strictness of economy had grown out of circumstances, the chief amongst which was a decline in the health of Lady Marchdale. Should she die, there was danger that Lord Marchdale would marry again, and thus the remotest chance might be cut off of Algernon's succession to the title and estates of his noble relative. ”

“ Chillingworth took him by the arm, saying,—
"Come home—come home; no more of this at present; you will but make yourself seriously unwell."
"No—no—no."
"Come home now, I pray you; you are by far too much excited about this matter to pursue it with the calmness which should be brought to bear upon it."
"Take advice, Henry," said Marchdale, "take advice, and come home at once."
"I will yield to you; I feel that I cannot control my own feelings—I will yield to you, who, as you say, are cooler on this subject than I can be. Oh, Flora, Flora, I have no comfort to bring to you now." ”

“ You can reason calmly, because you cannot know the extent of feeling you are vainly endeavouring to combat."
"Flora, you do me less than justice. All I wish to impress upon your mind is, that you are not in any way picked out by Providence to be specially unhappy—that there is no perversion of nature on your account."
"Call you that hideous vampyre form that haunts me no perversion of ordinary nature?"
"What is is natural," said Marchdale.
"Cold reasoning to one who suffers as I suffer. I cannot argue with you; I can only know that I am most unhappy—most miserable." ”

“ England, and apprise the unhappy parents of their son's condition; advising the utmost secrecy respecting the circumstances of this tragical event, and their immediate presence in Brussels, accompanied by whatever confidential legal adviser they considered most likely to give a favourable turn to the aspect of affairs.
The agonies of despair into which Lord and Lady Marchdale were thrown by the dreadful intelligence, almost deprived them of life, and some days elapsed before the unfortunate pair recovered sufficient bodily strength to undertake their mournful expedition. ”

“ Come now, you Charles, this appears to be an honest, gentlemanly fellow—give him your hand."
"If Mr. Charles Holland," said Marchdale, "knows aught to my prejudice in any way, however slight, I here beg of him to declare it at once, and openly."
"I cannot assert that I do," said Charles.
"Then what the deuce do you make yourself so disagreeable for, eh?" cried the admiral.
"One cannot help one's impression and feelings," said Charles; "but I am willing to take Mr. ”

“ Again and again memory brought back to him the day upon which he breakfasted in Oakley Street, and walked across Waterloo Bridge with the Drury Lane supernumerary. Every word that John Marchmont had spoken; every look of the meek and trusting eyes, the pale and thoughtful face; every pressure of the thin hand which had grasped his in grateful affection, in friendly confidence,—came back to Edward Arundel after an interval of nearly ten years, and brought with it a bitter sense of self-reproach. ”

“ He went by a path which quite avoided the grounds about Marchmont Towers,—a narrow footpath, which served as a towing-path sometimes, when some black barge crawled by on its way out to the open sea. To-night the river was hidden by a mist,—a white fog,—that obscured land and water; and it was only by the sound of the horses' hoofs that Edward Arundel had warning to step aside, as a string of them went by, dragging a chain that grated on the pebbles by the river-side.
"Why should they say my darling committed suicide?" thought Edward Arundel, as he groped his way along the narrow pathway. ”

“ After a few minutes she turned abruptly from the Rector, and seated herself in a recess of the window, from which she could see Edward and Mary.
But Mrs. Marchmont's duties as hostess soon demanded her attention. The county families began to arrive; the sound of carriage–wheels seemed perpetual upon the crisp gravel–drive before the western front; the names of half the great people in Lincolnshire were shouted by the old servants in the hall. The band in the music–gallery struck up a quadrille, and Edward Arundel led the youthful mistress of the mansion to her place in the dance. ”

“ Paul Marchmont turned to look for this horrible something the sight of which had power to change his sister's face; and found himself confronted by a young man,––a young man whose eyes flamed like coals of fire, whose cheeks were as white as a sheet of paper, and whose firm lips were locked as tightly as if they had been chiseled out of a block of granite.
This man was Edward Arundel,––the young widower, the handsome soldier,––whom everybody remembered as the husband of poor lost Mary Marchmont. ”

“ John Marchmont, the supernumerary, the banner–holder of Drury Lane, the patient, conscientious copying and outdoor clerk of Lincoln's Inn, was now sole owner of the Lincolnshire estate, sole master of a household of well–trained old servants, sole proprietor of a very decent country–gentleman's stud, and of chariots, barouches, chaises, phaetons, and other vehicles––a little shabby and out of date it may be, but very comfortable to a man for whom an omnibus ride had long been a treat and a rarity. Nothing had been touched or disturbed since Philip Marchmont's death. ”

“ The horse was from the stables at Marchmont Towers, and the rider was Mr. Arundel. He came smiling to the Rectory gate, with the low sunshine glittering in his chesnut hair, and the light of careless, indifferent happiness irradiating his handsome face.
"You must have thought I'd forgotten you and my uncle, my dear Livy," he said, as he sprang lightly from his horse. "We've been so busy with the tennis–court, and the boat–house, and the partridges, and goodness knows what besides at the Towers, that I couldn't get the time to ride over till this evening. ”

“ It is not easy to imagine a lion–hearted young cavalry officer, whose soldiership in the Punjaub had won the praises of a Napier and an Outram, fainting away like a heroine of romance at the coming of evil tidings; but Edward Arundel, who had risen from a sick–bed to take a long and fatiguing journey in utter defiance of the doctors, was not strong enough to bear the dreadful welcome that greeted him upon the gate–post at Marchmont Towers. ”

“ If Providence had intended John Marchmont's daughter to be a happy bride, a happy wife, the prosperous mistress of that stately habitation, why all that sad business of old Mr. Arundel's sudden illness, Edward's hurried journey, the railway accident, and all the complications that had thereupon arisen? Nothing would have been easier than for Providence to have prevented all this; and then he, Paul, would have been still in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, patiently waiting for a friendly lift upon the high–road of life. Nobody could say that he had ever been otherwise than patient. ”

“ But, in his eager impatience, he was almost unconscious of his own weakness.
"Will it never come?" he muttered. "Will it never come?"
At last, after an intolerable delay, as it seemed to the young man, the carriage-and-pair from the George Inn rattled up to the door of the station, with Mr. Morrison upon the box, and a postillion loosely balanced upon one of the long-legged, long-backed, bony grey horses. Edward Arundel got into the vehicle before his valet could alight to assist him.
"Marchmont Towers!" he cried to the postillion; "and a five-pound note if you get there in less than an hour." ”

“ Mr. Marchmont wishes me to stay. It suits me to stay. What does it matter what people say of me? What do I care for any one's opinion—now?"
"Olivia," cried the young man, "are you mad?"
"Perhaps I am," she answered, coldly.
"Why is it that you shut yourself from the sympathy of those who have a right to care for you? What is the mystery of your life?"
His cousin laughed bitterly.
"Would you like to know, Edward Arundel?" she said. "You shall know, perhaps, some day. You have despised me all my life; you will despise me more then."
They had reached Paul Marchmont's painting-room by this time. ”

“ The days were past in which, in his simplicity, he had looked to Edward Arundel as the future shelter of his child. The generous boy had grown into a stylish young man, a soldier, whose duty lay far away from Marchmont Towers. No; it was to a good woman's guardianship the father must leave his child.
Thus the very intensity of his love was the one motive which led John Marchmont to contemplate the step that Mary thought such a cruel and bitter wrong to her. ”

“ Then, again, Olivia Arundel, though unblest with many of the charms of womanhood, was not entirely without its weaknesses. To marry John Marchmont would be to avenge herself upon Edward Arundel. Alas! she forgot how impossible it is to inflict a dagger–thrust upon him who is guarded by the impenetrable armour of indifference. She saw herself the mistress of Marchmont Towers, waited upon by liveried servants, courted, not patronised by the country gentry; avenged upon the mercenary aunt who had slighted her, who had bade her go out and get her living as a nursery governess. ”

“ She thought all this, while she sat back in a corner of the carriage watching the two faces opposite to her, as Edward and Mary, seated with their backs to the horses, talked together in low confidential tones, which scarcely reached her ear. She thought all this during the short drive between Kemberling and Marchmont Towers; and when the carriage drew up before the low Tudor portico, the dark shadow had settled on her face. Her mind was made up. Let Edward Arundel come; let the worst come. She had struggled; she had tried to do her duty; she had striven to be good. ”

“ Olivia Marchmont sat for some moments in moody silence; then suddenly raising her head, she looked her cousin full in the face.
"I do," she exclaimed; "if any one except herself is guilty of an act which was her own, I am not that person."
"I understand," said Edward Arundel; "it was Paul Marchmont's hand that drove her out upon the dreary world. It was Paul Marchmont's brain that plotted against her. You were only a minor instrument; a willing tool, in the hands of a subtle villain. But he shall answer; he shall answer!"
The soldier spoke the last words between his clenched teeth. ”