Randal Vaughan: or, Self in self-sacrifice. A novel

Chapter I

" Tout va bien. A nes vœux le rucces est conforme " II signe un bon contrat, £crit en bonne forme " Et sera condamne" tant6t sur son ecrit." Les Plaideurs. In an obscure and dingy street in the town of N , one of the most populous in the county of L , two men might be seen in earnest conversation one evening towards the close of the month of March. In the elder of the two VOL. II. B there was little difficulty in recognising Henry Eleson. His features were indeed but little changed, though three years of sordid trickery had not failed to leave their impress on them. There was the same hag gard cheek, the same furrowed brow, stamped with the premature lines of care and thought — the same subtle downcast eye, ever shun ning a straightforward glance, but scanning with eager and furtive curiosity, the counte nance of his companion whenever his eyes were turned away.

It was a face which to one skilled in discerning character would have spoken volumes of warning and distrust ; but his companion was not one to notice this. Ernest Herbert was the same trustful bein° that he had ever been. The years which had passed over him had not been without their effect in strengthening and refining his character — they had given him more of energy, more of steadfast purpose to act aright ; but they had not dimned the brightness of spirit which in youth had first attracted the too early lessoned heart of Randal Vaughan, and the open hearted boy had grown into the earnest, but too trustful man. The town of N was situated in the vici nity of a large estate, the property of Lord Moran, whose family had, time out of mind, returned one of its members to parliament. The manufacturing population had of late years increased with great rapidity, and two successive bad seasons had occasioned an amount of distress which was the cause of great anxiety to the good old earl.

Herbert joined heartily in all his schemes of benevolence, and it was with a view to them that the family was now established at Castle Herbert, whilst Ernest was endeavouring to make himself ac tpiainted with the true condition of those whom he sought to benefit. But this was no easy task, and he was just beginning to appreciate its full difficulty, when he met once more with Henry Eleson. From the time of that first meeting which had led to the law-suit, in which Randal had been the means of recovering for the widow the money which was unjustly with held from her, Herbert had never altogether lost sight of his new protege. His friend's feelings had not been without their influence upon his own mind. He felt, like him, in some degree responsible for the consequences which his own escape had been the means of bringing upon Eleson, and many a time had he interposed to save him from distress.

Gradually, as is ever the case with minds cast in the gentle mould in which his was formed, he began to conceive a liking for the man he had so often befriended. Eleson was not slow to im prove upon this feeling ; and so well did he act his part that Herbert soon learned to like and trust the man who had once tried to ruin him for life. It was therefore with real pleasure on Herbert's part that they again met at N . Eleson was intimately acquainted with the habits and condition of the classes which to Herbert, brought up in luxury and retirement, were almost as unknown as the dusky tribes of the Paeisic. He was gifted with a ready and plausible tongue — was well versed in all the topics of the party which he espoused — could discourse eloquently, yet with out offence to the patrician sensibility7 of his companion, of the wrongs of the poor and oppressions of the rich — and was indefatigable in his attentions to the young heir who might be useful to him in so many ways.

With the town of N , too, he was well acquainted, and had paid many a visit there since the day when we last saw him setting out on his errand of agitation. His true character and occupation he was at much pains to conceal, and Herbert was wholly unsuspicious of the real nature of the guide whom he had chosen in his search after truth. The strong March wind howled round them as they walked along, and the dark grey sky, from which a few scattered flakes of snow were slowly falling, rendered doubly dreary the wretched alleys through which they were taking their way. " What a miserable place." " Yes, and they are miserable people who live here ; see here !" and so saying Eleson drew Herbert aside into one of the open doorways, and groping their way upstairs, they en tered one of the upper rooms.

A child who had been playing about the apartment, hastily rose, frightened at the sight of strangers, and ran to the side of a miserable pallet bed, upon which, in a distant corner, a female figure was reclining. But the cry of " Mother " found no answer there — in vain the little one grasped her arm and tried to rouse her — that arm would never fold around him more. Young, slight, and fearfully emaciated, she seemed something scarce of earth, as she lay in the silence of death upon her wretched couch. Her features were still beautiful in the calm serenity of death, and the white hands were folded across her bosom in the attitude of prayer. Beside her, motionless, death-like, almost as herself, sat a man still in the prime of manhood, but whose hair was thickly strewn with grey, and upon whose features care and sorrow had stamped the marks of premature old age He remained apparently unconscious of the entrance of strangers, and did not even move when the child grasped its mother's arm in the vain effort to arouse her attention, but sat with dry hard eyes fixed upon the face of the dead, and livid lips whose convulsive compression told of the bitter thoughts that were struggling within.

Herbert gazed for a few moments on the scene in silent sorrow, then approaching the man's side, he laid his hand gently upon his shoulder, and tried to speak a few words of hope and comfort. But the touch aroused the father from his lethargy of grief. He looked up with a vacant stare ; then as his eye caught the gentlemanly dress and bearing, his face grew dark with passion, and with a wild curse he sprang to his feet, " Aye ! look at her, master," he cried, " My daughter, sir ! The only child of my pure good wife, who is an angel now in heaven ; and there is her child — the child of shame and miserv — and sin : and she — dead — blighted — - ruined body and soul ; see there !" And he seized the cold hand of the corpse and pointed to the wedding finger. It was too true, there was no ring there ; her youth and beauty had fallen, as it so often falls, a prey to the lusts of those who should have protected it, and the widowed father was watching by the side of his only child, dead in sin and degradation.

" Aye, she was fair !" he continued, in the wild, poetic strain so common with those of his class, in times of high excitement, " Too fair to be a poor man's wife — fair enough to be the toy and plaything of a gentleman — to be c aressed and petted, and flung aside for some B new bauble, and left to beg her way home with the child of her sin, and lie down at her father's feet and die, without even his forgiveness and his blessing. Tears !" he continued, bitterly, as Herbert's emotion became too great for longer concealment, " What right have you to weep ? It was such as you that killed her. What does it matter for a poor girl's soul ? See my eyes are dry I have given her no tear ; but oh ! from my heart have risen up prayers which shall be heard in the day of the Lord's vengeance upon earth.

Aye ! weep ! — Weep for yourselves and your children. I tell you there is a day coming when the reckoning shall be made, and you shall pay dear for the souls you have destroyed. A curse upon your gold," he cried, as the purse which Herbert endeavoured to place in his hand was dashed upon the ground with a violence which broke the fragile links and scattered the bright sovereigns upon the floor. The child ran eagerly to grasp the gittering pieces ; the man looked on with a bitter smile. " Aye ! fly to the gold, boy — there is gentleman's blood in your veins, and it comes out early. Take up your money," he con tinued, turning savagely upon Herbert, " Why do you bring it here ? Would you buy the boy's soul as you bought the mother's ?" " Come, come, Kelly," interposed Eleson, " the gentleman means the boy no harm, your grief makes you forget " " Forget ! ha ! ha !

You there too, honest Harry. Have you come to show the gentle man how the people die, that he may remember when our vengeance comes. Ha ! ha ! you turn pale. I know you, man, traitor ! coward ! but it will come. Down with the tyrants ! Death to" Herbert heard no more, for Eleson put his arm through his and led him almost forcibly away. As they went silently down the stairs, and the frantic cries of the desperate man still rang in their ears from the room of death, he peered eagerly into his companions face, anxious to see if the wild ravings of poor Kelly had revealed anything of that which he so much wished to keep secret, his own connexion with the revolutionary party. But Herbert was too full of his own sorrowful thoughts to have paid any attention to this, and Eleson soon saw that he was safe.

They reached the street. " Would you wish to see more ?" asked Eleson. " No ! no !" answered Herbert, sadly. " I have seen enough for to-day. Leave me now, Eleson ; in a few days I will come to you again." They parted, and Eleson stood for a few mo ments gazing after Herbert's retreating form. " So," he muttered to himself, " There goes my money chest. Ah, if these rich fellows had but brains in their heads, we poor ones would have a fine chance of starving. Soft fool ! I hate him. I hated him at school with his baby face and puling good-boy talk — I hate him now with his philanthropic folly. A curse on this poverty. I cannot spare him. Humph ! that mad fool, Kelly nearly spoiled everything. Yet, perhaps, I might almost venture now to let him into the secret of my political — ha ! ha ! my revolutionary — character !

If anything was to happen, and I was to be nabbed, he might be useful if he knew what to do. Can I trust him ?" A hand laid upon his arm interrupted his meditations, and turning sharply round he en countered his mother. " Was that Mr. Herbert who was with you ?" she asked, as they walked homewards together. " Of course it was. Our aristocratic acquaintance is not so large." " Where have you been taking him ?" " To Dan Kelly's." " Good Heaven ! Henry, why do you take him there?" " Because our future member likes to know all about his constituents, and pays well for the information." " But why expose him to the danger ?" — " Pooh ! mother, he is in no danger ; don't be afraid that your darling will get hurt through me, he is too useful for that. Did you get my note ?" " I did, and have kept your secret ; but my heart — oh !

Harry ! swear to me that no harm shall come to him." " Nonsense, mother, do you think I would kill our golden goose. Come, you will lose the train. That fellow has bewitched you, I believe. You think much more of him thanof me, and God knows if we shall ever meet again." The ruse was successful. The mother's love overpowered for the moment every other feeling, and flinging her arms round his neck, she burst into tears. " God bless you, my poor boy, and bring you safe to me again. I go to provide a refuge for you when these wild schemes fail. Oh ! you cannot injure him whose generosity has enabled me to do so." One last embrace, and she was gone, and Eleson stood gazing musingly after the fast disappearing train. " So," he muttered at length, " she is safe at last. She will be half-way to America before my plans are ripe.

Now I am free to work. Ha ! ha ! hatred and prudence, too, both satisfied. Stay, let me see my way quite clearly ; aye ! that is it ! and now for victory." So saying, he left the house, and casting a stealthy glance around him, plunged into the dark labyrinths of the town. From house to house he glided, like an evil spirit, and many a whispered conference he held with dark ruf fianly-looking men, who seemed fit agents for any deed of violence or outrage. At length he returned home, and flinging himself upon his bed, sank to sleep with a smile of gratified malice upon his lips.

Chapter II

" Now let it work. Mischief thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt." Julius Cæsar. Som e days passed away. It was a close and oppressive evening, the moon had not yet risen, and not a star shone through the dark veil which hung loweringly over the sky. The wind moaned at fitful in tervals over the dreary plain, and a heavy sense of coming ill seemed brooding over the earth. There was an unusual stillness in the dark streets. The mills had stopped work, and the shops, closed at an early hour, and now nought was to be seen but scattered anxious groups at the corners of the streets, and pale-faced women hurrying quickly by, and the quiet forms of the guardians of night as they paced on their accustomed rounds as silent, and ap parently as careless as if all were tranquil around them.

Occasionally a carriage would rattle past, and then the murmur would be hushed, and all eyes would be turned towards it. Swiftly it went on its way under that eager silent scrutiny, and ever and anon a sullen threatening murmur rose from the excited groups as they recognised in its occupant some wealthy enemy of their cause — but the mur murings were not loud, but deep, and scarcely broke the solemn oppressive silence which settled down again as the last echo of the wheels died away. It was the heavy calm be fore the storm ; and now from cottage and shed and secret lurking place, forms began to peer forth into the night, and gazed around as if they feared pursuit, and hurried away with rapid silent steps towards the outskirts of the city. As they approached the common which bor dered the south side of the town, they drew together in little knots which, gradually swelling as they advanced, joined themselves at length to the vast multitude which was collecting in the plain.

On the other side of the town, a horseman was making his way as rapidly as the darkness would allow towards the city. Many a cottage door opened at the sound of his horse's hoofs, and pale faces looked anxiously after his retreating form. As he drew near the barracks, he saw that there all was unusually on the alert. The officer of the night was making the round of the sentries as he passed and beckoning him with his sword to stop, in quired if he had seen anything of a troop of dragoons on the M Road. " No, I have not," answered Herbert. " Are there any expected ?" " Oh, yes ! the people of the town expect a row, and so here we are kept under arms all night, and dragoons sent for from M , and preparations enough made to resist an in vasion." " Then do you suppose there will be any fighting ?"

"Not I; these fellows are always getting frightened at nothing, and then we are marched off on a fool's errand ; however, if you are going into the town, you may as well keep your eyes about you. I believe they are in a queer state there." " Thank you," said Herbert. " I will take care ; but I hope there will be no disturbance." " Well," said the officer, laughing. " If we are to be kept up all night, we may as well have something for our trouble, and then there would be an end of it — good night, though, Mr. Her bert ! I wish you a better night's rest than we are likely to get." " Good night !" replied Ernest — and rode on once more through the darkness. This is what Eleson meant then, he said to himself, when he said he would show me another phase of the people's existence. Can he be mixed up in this.

I know he was connected with those unhappy Chartists, but — that was years ago. Well — well, here I am at last. He reined up his horse, and proceeded slowly until he heard his own name gently called from the roadside — "Is that you, Eleson?" " All right, sir ; now if you will give your horse to this man, I will take you round outside the town, and he will meet us when we want him. I suppose you know by this time the sort of thing you are to see to-night ?" "I begin to have some suspicion. As I passed the barracks just now, they were all pre pared, and a troop of dragoons has been sent for from M ." " Dragoons !" muttered Eleson, between his teeth. " No, no," he continued aloud. " I will run you into no danger." " I am not afraid for myself. But I do hope for the sake of these poor deluded men that there will be no riot.

There would be a fearful loss of life." " When are the dragoons expected ?" " Every moment I believe. One of the officers asked if I had seen them as I came along." " Then there is no time to be lost," muttered Eleson. " Their sabres will slice my web in pieces. There" — he continued, aloud — " there is the meeting-place. A strange sight is it not ?" It was indeed a strange and striking sight. The large expanse of the south common now distant from them about half a mile was covered with a dense mass of human beings. Number less torches shed a wild glare over the scene, and cast a lurid light upon the dark and threatening clouds above. At the moment that they came in sight of the plain the mighty crowd was hushed as death, listening to the speech of some favorite orator. They both stood still to gaze upon the scene, and at that moment came through the silence the roll of a distant drum.

Both started, and Herbert turned to his companion to ask its meaning. But his voice was drowned in the fierce yell which rose from the crowd as the orator con cluded. Again and again it pealed across the plain upon the wings of the fast rising wind. Eleson caught his companion by the arm and hurried him on with a muttered exclamation that they would be too late. They drew near to the crowd, and now they were in the midst of the wild ferocious faces which glared upon Herbert from every side. But no opposition was offered to then progress. They seemed to recognise Eleson, and every moment some sinister-looking ruffian would exchange with him a scarcely perceptible sign, and follow silently and with apparent carelessness in their train. Another speech concluded as they reached the temporary platform on which the orators mounted to address the crowd.

But this time the cries which followed assumed a still more threatening tone, as on the outskirts of the mob a small compact body of men were seen moving steadily towards them. A moment's pause, and the loud clear voice of one of the neigh bouring magistrates was heard calling upon the assembly to disperse. A shout of defiance was the only reply, which changed to a yell of exe cration as the flashing torches gleamed upon the scarlet uniforms and glittering bayonets of a party of infantry advancing with rapid steps along the narrow lane which led to the common. " Come my lads," continued the magistrate, VOL. II. C " you had best disperse — we are too strong for you, and the dragoons are coming." A yell of defiance was again the reply, and a shower of stones flew on every side. " Then I must read the riot act, and the consequences be on your own heads."

Herbert looked anxiously on as there was a moment's pause, and then a tall, athletic figure sprang upon the platform. His long grey hair floated on the breeze, the light of madness was in his eye, and as he waved his arms above his head, a yell which rent the veiy heavens, greeted the appearance of Daniel Kelly. Fierce and burning as the lava torrent the words poured from his lips. Passionate la ments over his own griefs — vivid pictures of the misery and degradation of his class — bitter denunciations of then: rich and titled oppres sors — and fierce threats of coming vengeance, rang in the ears of the listening thousands. The crowd swayed to and fro, and each moment the maddening excitement swelled under the burning fervour of those bitter words. The magistrate saw that the case was hopeless, and reading the riot act with a loud and hasty voice, retired from his advanced position and called upon his party to hold themselves in readiness.

Herbert could bear it no longer, his usually gentle spirit was wrought up by the excitement of the moment, and in the vain hope that he might yet stem the torrent of feeling and avert the impending bloodshed, he sprang upon the platform. This was Eleson's moment, and before Her bert had time to speak, a rapid motion of his hand gave the signal for which the mob was waiting, and in an instant, rose the cry — " Liberty and the People !" — " Sweep the redcoated butchers from the earth !" — " Forward ! — death to the tyrants — death." Four of the men who had followed Eleson into the crowd sprang upon the platform, seized Herbert in their powerful arms, and with a cry of " Death to the tyrants!" rushed with the infuriated mob upon the little band which awaited their onset without a movement. It was in vain for Herbert to struggle or call for help — the strong arms held him like an in fant, and the fierce yells of the crowd drowned his voice.

On they bore upon the soldiers, and then the sharp word of command was heard — " Ready — Present." A bright sheet of flame flashed from the levelled firelocks, and five of the crowd sank wounded or lifeless on the ground. Close to Herbert's side Dan Kelly was cheering on the mob — a shot struck him in the breast, and springing into the air with a wild yell, he fell dead at his feet. Still the mob rushed on. Another discharge, and again the deadly bullet did its work — a moment's pause of irresolution as the crowd saw their leaders fall — but again arose the shout of vengeance, and once more they pressed forward. And now the little party of military were in imminent danger ; there was no time to reload and the mighty crowds in the rear flung those in the van upon the very bayonets of the soldiery, and well nigh swept the little party from before them.

But at this critical moment the trampling of horses, and the jingling of cavalry accoutrements was heard upon the right flank of the crowd, and a troop of dragoons dashed into the thickest of the mob, and sa bring right and left forced their way towards the spot where Herbert was still borne conspicious upon the shoulders of his supporters. Eleson saw his danger. It was no part of his scheme that Herbert should be made a prisoner, so hastily collecting the stoutest and most courageous of his immediate followers he pointed out the danger to them, and in a moment a brief but determined rush carried him off from the soldiers, and he was hurried out of the throng by the same resistless force which had hitherto borne him at its head. As he emerged from the thickest of the crowd Eleson joined him.

" Good heaven, Mr. Herbert !" he cried, with well feigned agitation, "are you mad? I thought you would have been cut to pieces. There — there — not a word now — I have got you safe at last. There is your horse. Mount and make the best of your way home. This has been a fearful business." Herbert's suspicions vanished — he grasped his companion's hand, and springing upon his horse, was soon out of sight. It was but a few days after these occurrences that the fiasco ofthe famous 10th of April, achieved for the metropolis and the whole kingdom what the events of that disastrous night had effected in the town of N . Randal Vaughan, like the rest of the young men of London, had enrolled himself as a special constable. Perhaps his opinions had undergone a change since we first found him defending the principle of the " Charter ;" but be that as it may, he was at all events fully con vinced that it was not by insurrection and re volution that any desirable result could be ob tained, and he gladly lent all the assistance in his power to repress the ill-considered move ment.

He was indeed more than usually active in the business, and his zeal and energy joined with the natural capacity for command which he had always displayed, had rendered him of essential service, and had attracted the attention of those in power. On the day following the celebrated demon stration on Kennington Common, he left his chambers at an early hour and proceeded to the Home Office to keep an appointment with one of the Under Secretaries. The conference was short, but most gratifying to Randal, and ended in an offer by Mr. of a part of considerable trust and emolument which happened at that moment to be vacant. " And now my dear sir, I fear I must dismiss you for the present," continued Mr. , warmly shaking his hand. " I have a great deal to do, and must turn now to a much less agreeable occupation.

I am going to give an interview to one of the greatest rascals in London and upon business well worthy of him. However," he continued shrugging his shoulders, " there is no help for it, and for dirty work we must use dirty tools." " Well, Mr. , I wish you well out of your unpleasant task." said Randal, laughing, and took his leave. As he descended the stairs, a man passed him on his way to Mr. 's apartment. His face was hastily turned aside ; but not quickly enough to escape altogether Randal's piercing glance, and he started as he seemed to recog nise the well-known features of Henry Eleson, now unseen for more than three years. " How very strange," he murmured. " Can that be Eleson? If it be, I am afraid that Mr. 's description is not far wrong; but what can he be wanting here ? — he used to be a c Chartist Orator.

One would think this were hardly a safe place for him now, unless, indeed, he comes to betray some of his old com panions. Well ! perhaps there are more un likely things in the world than that would be." And with these words he reached the door, and the subject passed altogether from his mind until after events recalled it with a terrible sig nificance. He had, indeed, no lack of other and pleasanter subjects to occupy his mind. The offer of the minister had been so entirely unexpected, that it was some time before he could fully realise its truth. It was but that very morning that he had been reviewing the progress of the last three years with the object of ascertaining how far he had advanced towards the one reward, the hope of which had never ceased to animate his toil — nor had the result of his examination been altogether discouraging.