Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 65, No. 400, February, 1849. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ hope so," said I, wringing his hand, "and that is likely, – since, in spite of yourself, I have guessed your secret – your birth and parentage."

      "How!" cried Vivian, turning pale, and gnawing his lip – "what do you mean? – speak."

      "Well, then, are you not the lost, runaway son of Colonel Vivian? Come, say the truth; let us be confidants."

      Vivian threw off a succession of his abrupt sighs; and then, seating himself, leant his face on the table, confused, no doubt, to find himself discovered.

      "You are near the mark," said he at last, "but do not ask me farther yet. Some day," he cried impetuously, and springing suddenly to his feet – "some day you shall know all: yes; some day, if I live, when that name shall be high in the world; yes, when the world is at my feet!" He stretched his right hand as if to grasp the space, and his whole face was lighted with a fierce enthusiasm. The glow died away, and with a slight return of his scornful smile, he said – "Dreams yet; dreams! And now, look at this paper." And he drew out a memorandum, scrawled over with figures.

      "This, I think, is my pecuniary debt to you; in a few days, I shall discharge it. Give me your address."

      "Oh!" said I, pained, "can you speak to me of money, Vivian?"

      "It is one of those instincts of honour you cite so often," answered he, colouring. "Pardon me."

      "That is my address," said I, stooping to write, to conceal my wounded feelings. "You will avail yourself of it, I hope, often, and tell me that you are well and happy."

      "When I am happy, you shall know."

      "You do not require any introduction to Trevanion?"

      Vivian hesitated: "No, I think not. If ever I do, I will write for it."

      I took up my hat, and was about to go – for I was still chilled and mortified – when, as if by an irresistible impulse, Vivian came to me hastily, flung his arms round my neck, and kissed me as a boy kisses his brother.

      "Bear with me!" he cried in a faltering voice: "I did not think to love any one as you have made me love you, though sadly against the grain. If you are not my good angel, it is that nature and habit are too strong for you. Certainly, some day we shall meet again. I shall have time, in the meanwhile, to see if the world can be indeed 'mine oyster, which I with sword can open.' I would be aut Cæsar aut nullus! Very little other Latin know I to quote from! If Cæsar, men will forgive me all the means to the end; if nullus, London has a river, and in every street one may buy a cord!"

      "Vivian! Vivian!"

      "Now go, my dear friend, while my heart is softened – go, before I shock you with some return of the native Adam. Go – go!"

      And taking me gently by the arm, Francis Vivian drew me from the room, and, re-entering, locked his door.

      Ah! if I could have left him Robert Hall, instead of those execrable Typhons! But would that medicine have suited his case, or must grim Experience write sterner recipes with her iron hand?

      CHAPTER XLVII

      When I got back, just in time for dinner, Roland had not returned, nor did he return till late in the evening. All our eyes were directed towards him, as we rose with one accord to give him welcome; but his face was like a mask – it was locked, and rigid, and unreadable.

      Shutting the door carefully after him, he came to the hearth, stood on it, upright and calm, for a few moments, and then asked —

      "Has Blanche gone to bed?"

      "Yes," said my mother, "but not to sleep, I am sure; she made me promise to tell her when you came back."

      Roland's brow relaxed.

      "To-morrow, sister," said he slowly, "will you see that she has the proper mourning made for her? My son is dead."

      "Dead!" we cried with one voice, and surrounding him with one impulse.

      "Dead! impossible – you could not say it so calmly. Dead! – how do you know? You may be deceived. Who told you? – why do you think so?"

      "I have seen his remains," said my uncle, with the same gloomy calm. "We will all mourn for him. Pisistratus, you are heir to my name now, as to your father's. Good-night; excuse me, all – all you dear and kind ones; I am worn out."

      Roland lighted his candle and went away, leaving us thunderstruck; but he came back again – looked round – took up his book, open in the favourite passage – nodded again, and again vanished. We looked at each other, as if we had seen a ghost. Then my father rose and went out of the room, and remained in Roland's till the night was wellnigh gone. We sat up – my mother and I – till he returned. His benign face looked profoundly sad.

      "How is it, sir Can you tell us more?"

      My father shook his head.

      "Roland prays that you may preserve the same forbearance you have shown hitherto, and never mention his son's name to him. Peace be to the living, as to the dead. Kitty, this changes our plans; we must all go to Cumberland – we cannot leave Roland thus!"

      "Poor, poor Roland!" said my mother, through her tears. "And to think that father and son were not reconciled. But Roland forgives him now – oh, yes! now!"

      "It is not Roland we can censure," said my father, almost fiercely; "it is – but enough. We must hurry out of town as soon as we can: Roland will recover in the native air of his old ruins."

      We went up to bed mournfully.

      "And so," thought I, "ends one grand object of my life! – I had hoped to have brought those two together. But, alas! what peacemaker like the grave!"

      CHAPTER XLVIII

      My uncle did not leave his room for three days, but he was much closeted with a lawyer; and my father dropped some words which seemed to imply that the deceased had incurred debts, and that the poor Captain was making some charge on his small property. As Roland had said that he had seen the remains of his son, I took it at first for granted that we should attend a funeral, but no word of this was said. On the fourth day, Roland, in deep mourning, entered a hackney coach with the lawyer, and was absent about two hours. I did not doubt that he had thus quietly fulfilled the last mournful offices. On his return, he shut himself up again for the rest of the day, and would not see even my father. But the next morning he made his appearance as usual, and I even thought that he seemed more cheerful than I had yet known him – whether he played a part, or whether the worst was now over, and the grave was less cruel than uncertainty. On the following day, we all set out for Cumberland.

      In the interval, Uncle Jack had been almost constantly at the house, and, to do him justice, he had seemed unaffectedly shocked at the calamity that had befallen Roland. There was, indeed, no want of heart in Uncle Jack, whenever you went straight at it; but it was hard to find if you took a circuitous route towards it through the pockets. The worthy speculator had indeed much business to transact with my father before we left town. The Anti-Publisher Society had been set up, and it was through the obstetric aid of that fraternity that the Great Book was to be ushered into the world. The new journal, the Literary Times, was also far advanced – not yet out, but my father was fairly in for it. There were preparations for its debut on a vast scale, and two or three gentlemen in black – one of whom looked like a lawyer, and another like a printer, and a third uncommonly СКАЧАТЬ