Driven Home. A tale of destiny

Introduction

i Chap. I. THE OLD HOUSE AT CHISWICK I _____ ON BOARD SHIP 15 III. THE GAME BEGINS 26 IV. THE CURSE HAS COME UPON ME 40 V. UNDER THE GOURDS 48 VI. THE ILEX AT LONGMAN'S DRIFT 56 VII. HOMEWARD BOUND 64 VIII. " I WILL HAUNT AND DRIVE YOU " 72 IX. THE KNAVE OF HEARTS 86 X. THE MEETING IN THE WOOD IO4 XI. MRS. TRELAWNEY Iig XII, LOST 128 XIII. HAMBLEDON HOUSE I47 XIV. "MY JOURNEY IS NEARLY OVER" l6l

INTRODUCTION.

. The truth of the more important facts contained in the following narrative would have been brought to the test of a court of law, but for certain acci dental circumstances. Failing such a proof, considerable doubt has been thrown on the reality of the strangely sensa tional incidents which I have been induced to narrate. Those portions of them which deal with what I saw with my own eyes, heard with my own ears, and felt with unmistakable acuteness in my own person, I give as they actually occurred, without concealment and without exaggeration. How far I am right in attributing to super natural agency the curious series of coincidences that resulted in the discovery I made, it is not for me to assert. It has been suggested that either my lonely childhood, or the morbid consciousness with which I dwelt on the painful circumstance connected

INTRODUCTION.

. with my parentage, or the brain -fever which attacked me in California, may have predisposed me to hallucinations. I am willing to leave the question to be settled by those who care to read my story. I may add that the reasons which at one time would have rendered the publication of my ex periences detrimental to living persons no longer exist.

Chapter I

Œbe ©lo ibouse at Cblswtcfc. HAT were my first impressions ? I see myself a child, playing in a quaint old-fashioned garden in a quaint old-fashioned suburb of London. I see its stately cedars and its high walls, half buried in luxuriant creepers, and splashed here and there with mosses and lichens in every shade of green, grey, and broWn. I see, as she leans on her ebony walking-stick, the sad and wrinkled face of the venerable lady whom I had been taught to call my aunt. Even then I often wondered at the pitying expres sion with which she would watch me ; and fre quently, when I heard children's voices echoing over the old walls, so near and yet so far from me, did I wonder why I should live so solitary a life, and why I alone should have no playmate, and no one younger than my aunt and the two weather beaten servants who formed her humble retinue, to whom I could confide my childish joys and sorrows.

I knew less at that time than I have learned later ; but even then — even in my quiet childhood — did I sometimes conjecture, from the unre strained emotions of hatred and anger which at times beset me, and from the utter disregard with which I contemplated death or punishment, that I must have had in my veins the blood of some wild and reckless being, perhaps of some cruel and pitiless criminal. Even in those early days, and at a period when to the limited circle of those who knew me I must have seemed only a quiet and dreamy child, a glance at the pages of some old history of wild adventure or of lawless deed would make my whole frame thrill with un utterable excitement. Nobody came to break in upon the monotonous life we led in the old red house except the clergy man of the parish, an aged and childless widower, who acted as almoner of my aunt's charities, and was our frequent visitor.

The only other exception was a cousin of my aunt's, whom she received once in two or three years for a few days, and who, I believe, was her sole living relation. He was a man rather past middle age, grave, and without sympathy for my boyish tastes and in terests. I stood greatly in awe of him, although he was never otherwise than kind to me ; and as he made no effort to draw me to him beyond making liberal gifts of money and books, our' intercourse during his brief visits was of the slightest description. I gathered from conversations I overheard be tween him and my aunt that he did not live in England, but that he was a successful colonist — in Australia, I think, — and it was his graphic accounts of the varied adventures of colonial life that made me determined to emigrate. Meanwhile my edu cation was not entirely neglected.

The earliest instruction I received was from a Frenchwoman, who was my nurse ; but when she had taught me to read French and English, to chatter in her own tongue, and to sing in a very childish treble a few French songs, her stock of knowledge was exhausted. So, when I had arrived at the age of seven, I was passed on to the care of a daily governess, Miss Bright, whose appearance seemed to be a perpetual protest against the cheerful sound of her name. There is a colour which is depressing even to mention — that colour is drab. Miss Bright was the very personification of drabness. Her hair, her complexion, her eyes, and her dress were all of the same sad hue. Yes ! even her boots were drab, with drab polished -leather tips. But her heart in nowise matched this drab exterior, for it was of pure gold.

She supported a paralysed mother by her teaching ; and being unable to leave this invalid, she was forced into giving daily lessons at her own home. Till I was twelve, I trudged to Miss Bright's house nearly every day of the year, working with her all the morning, and returning home for dinner, with my lessons to prepare for next day. It was a happy time for me when Miss Bright was with out afternoon pupils ; for then she would allow me to return to her, and she would take me long delightful walks by the Thames, giving me in this way a taste of the freedom and liberty for which I often pined in the charming but closely-walled garden belonging to my aunt. Good, kind Miss Bright ! how her tender heart seemed to warm to the poor desolate little boy in her charge ! Her dreary loneliness found an echo in my solitariness ; and to procure me some slight pleasure that she fancied might brighten my dull life she would gladly sacrifice, not only time and thought, but would even draw upon her small re sources, and give me many a little treat that she would certainly have denied herself as too great a luxury.

My aunt was already an aged woman, and as the time wore on she became less and less disposed to be much troubled with me ; so Miss Bright was always welcome whenever she came to our house, whether in or out of lesson time. Many and many an hour did she spend with me in the old garden, teaching me to care for the flowers and the birds, and all the wonderful life of Nature, — the only substitutes she could find me for the lack of human playmates. And, indeed, so far did pity for this want of my childhood impel her, that on one of my birthdays she brought me as a present a set of stumps and a bat and ball, and, with a touching devotion and self-sacrifice, set herself to try and give me elementary notions of the science of cricket. I fear the wear and tear to the drab garments was out of all proportion to any skill I acquired in the game.

I think Miss Bright imagined that my character was suffering from the brooding habit of mind that was growing on me as I became older and began to resent the unvarying dulness of my life, and she fancied that more vigorous exercise might have a good effect upon me. As time wore on, she did not fail to remark that all her efforts to close my eyes to my unusual position were unavailing. I had fits of dejection and low spirits, often followed by sudden accesses of passionate repining over my lot, which must have cost her more pain and alarm than her courageous nature would allow her to show. Then came a time when I was ill with a sort of nervous fever ; but, as I was naturally strong, it did not take great hold of me, and her careful nursing soon pulled me through. She determined, however, after this illness, that some change in the manner of my bringing up must be made, and — with much difficulty, I believe — she induced my aunt to send me as boarder to a school in the immediate neighbourhood, where I remained till my school days were over.

They were not happy days. When at last I obtained the wish of my heart, and found myself surrounded by companions of my own age, I expected nothing short of perfect happiness. From this dream I was quickly and thoroughly awakened. I had not been a week at school before I found out my mistake. At first I thought it was because I was a " new boy " that I was so little noticed, and thrust out of all the games and recreations of the other boys. But I was not the only new-comer, and I was quick to observe that this treatment was not extended to the others. It was only when I appeared in the playground that the boys knotted together, and cast unfriendly and halfterrified glances at me. I could perceive a difference even in the tone and manner of the masters when they addressed me, and bitterly my sensitive nature grieved over these strange and incomprehensible facts — incomprehensible, at that time, to me; but which, at a later period of my life, told me they were partially acquainted with my history.

I had already acquired a certain independence of character, which had come from the loneliness and want of sympathy which had been forced upon me from my earliest years. It stood me now in good stead, for through this habit I was enabled to take my own line and stick to it steadily, in a manner which would have been impossible for a boy with less self-reliance. I determined to make the masters my friends, and accordingly threw myself into my work with such zeal that the authorities were soon gained over to my side. For the most part the boys continued to keep aloof from me ; but seeing I was in favour with the masters, they made no attempt at perse cution, and after the first term, if I chose to join in the games, there was no opposition to my doing so : consequently I became proficient in all games in which strength and skill were essentials.

Very soon, therefore, the boys knew that in point of courage and vigour I was more than a match for any of them. Very rarely, but still often enough to make them respect me, they had seen my passionate nature blaze up, and the lesson had been learnt that I was not to be needlessly provoked. My greatest pleasure was spending all the half-holidays on the Thames. An old boatman used to take me out and teach me to row and angle, or else I used to leave him to fish whilst I wandered about on the shore till my companion was ready to go home. Later, I often hired his boat, and spent long after noons alone on the river, dreaming and planning a future which should be full of movement and adventure. Unlike most dreams, mine came true. As I grew up I formed a determination that, when I had arrived at the full possession of manly vigour and intellect, I would for ever bid adieu to the monotonous existence at my aunt's house, and seek in distant lands a more congenial mode of life.

Swiftly did the years roll by, and firmer grew my resolve. There was nothing to wait for, and at last I decided on the very hour of my departure. There was no need for the secrecy with which I began, and carried through, the preparations for my new life ; for I do not believe any member of the little household would have attempted to pre vent my departure, or have mourned my absence. Miss Bright, perhaps, might have done so ; but for a long while she had been a prisoner to her room, and I understood that it was only a question of months, or possibly weeks, before her body would be a prisoner in a still narrower and closer dwelling-place. However, partly from the love of mystery, and partly from an idea that at the last I might be detained, I made my arrangements for departure with scrupulous care that no inkling of them should reach my aunt.

With the not illiberal allowance which I was receiving I had no difficulty in purchasing the stores and articles of clothing which I considered necessary for the new sphere of my existence ; but it required some management to introduce them unperceived into my bedroom, and pack them in a handy form for conveyance. I dared not announce, even to my humble riverside companions, what my definite intentions were ; but I apprehend that my numerous questions with regard to the respective attractions of different foreign lands, and the best and easiest routes to them, would have excited some suspicion of what I contemplated, if it had been worth their while to trouble their heads about my intentions. Nothing, however, interrupted my preparations, and the hour arrived when I had determined to cut myself adrift from the only world which I had hitherto known.

It was a soft blowy night ; and as I leant from my window, listening for the preconcerted signal with the cab-driver, who had agreed to be ready a short distance off, though I never for a moment hesitated to take the step which I had so long contemplated, I must own to having experienced a feeling of the most profound apprehension and melancholy. The expected whistle, however, dis pelled this sensation, and I realised that the moment for action had come. I therefore quietly opened my door, and listened intently for any sound of waking life. I had no expectation of being interrupted, for an hour before I had heard the door of my aunt's bedroom close, — a sound which I knew meant that her faithful and punctual attendant had left her for the night. While I listened, however, the unusual circumstance, at such an hour, of the ringing of a bell made itself distinctly audible.

At the best of times, my aunt's bell had a sharp peremptory sound on the rare occasions in which she made use of it ; and now, in the dead stillness of the night, — at a time, too, when I was engaged on what seemed to me a guilty enterprise, — it affected me most painfully ; and, while I dared not answer in person what seemed an urgent summons, I awaited with the utmost anxiety the assistance of which I intuitively felt there must be instant need. Very few minutes had really elapsed — but they seemed to me hours — before I heard old Deborah's footstep on the lower stair, and saw her, with a shaded candle in her hand, gradually pass step by step up the staircase and enter my aunt's room. At the first sound I had blown out my light, and now awaited the next incident in darkness. Nor was I long in doubt.

There was a sharp knock at my door, and a voice I had never yet heard shake with agitation whispered : " Mr. George, Mr. George, come at once to your aunt's room. She is dying, and says she must see you." Without a moment's delay I obeyed the summons, and found my aunt — but how changed ! Even to my eyes, unaccustomed as they were to the sight of death, there were plainly visible the signs of the grim messenger's approach. "George," she uttered feebly, "if I have been wrong, you must forgive me ! It is too late to undo it. At first I meant to tell you all ; and then I thought it would be easier to me if you knew nothing till I was gone ; and now I doubt if it is right and well for you that you should ever know it. Oh, forgive me ! I have done it all for the best. It cannot be undone, unless " Here her voice failed, but she pointed in an excited manner to an old-fashioned escritoire which stood near her bedside.

For a few moments she seemed to be endeavouring to direct our attention to this spot, but suddenly her arm fell heavily at her side, and all was over. All idea of my leaving the house was at once abandoned. It was obvious that the common decencies of life required — and indeed I naturally felt — that I should be present at my aunt's funeral, and thus perform the last sad duties to one to whom I owed everything I ever had received, and whose dying words had shown that under her stern and unmoved exterior she had strong feelings of attachment towards me. In addition to this, hints were now dropped to me, not only that I was the probable successor to much of my aunt's wealth, but that at the time of the reading of her will some secret of importance would be divulged with reference to me and my relationship with her.

What this secret might be, my informants either could not, or would not, suggest. I con soled myself, therefore, for the delay in the accom plishment of my plans by the reflection that I should now start in the world's race with the possession at any rate of an appreciable fund of wealth, and probably with the additional advan tage of a name and position, if not distinguished, at any rate respectable. The day of the funeral soon arrived, and on our return from the cemetery my aunt's colonial friend, to whom I have referred, and who seemed to transact her legal business, produced her will, ■2 and also a sealed letter addressed to me, which had been discovered in the old writing-table to which I have alluded. The first document was very short. With the exception of a few bequests of jewellery to half-a-dozen individuals, it pro vided that the whole of the testatrix's property should be realised, that one-third should be paid to me in cash, and the remainder divided between the two old retainers and the reader of the will.

The latter, when he had concluded, informed me that the sum of money to which I should be entitled would be about five thousand pounds, and handed me the sealed letter. I was about to open it at once, when he laid his hand on my arm, and said sadly : "Young man, I would advise you to read that letter in private. I think, when you have done so, that you will acknowledge that my advice is right." Disappointed and alarmed, I at once withdrew to my own room, and then I read : " George, — You have no claim on me ; but for the sake of your father, whom I loved, and whom I alone assisted in his dire necessity, I have given you a home up to the present moment, and have provided for you in the future. His wretched wife, who stole him from me, deserted him in his utmost need. She is dead now, and beyond the reach of my curses.

If I had been his wife, I know that his terrible history would have never been written. In spite of my efforts, I find that the secret has oozed out, and therefore I have deemed it right that you should hear the worst direct from me. You are George Wardour, the only child of George Wardour, the poisoner." To realise the full horror of this information, it must be mentioned that the malefactor in question was notorious, even among the historical band of poisoners, for the infamy of his crime. His victims had been two orphans, whom he had induced to insure their lives, and then to bequeath to him the sums to be realised at their death. The evidence before the jury disclosed such a web of hyprocrisy, such a tissue of simulated piety and affection, as to sicken the most hardened habitues of the criminal •courts of justice.

I do not believe through the length and breadth of Great Britain one single petition was presented in favour of the commuta tion of his sentence, or that in the most gentle breast any feeling existed but satisfaction that justice had overtaken so abominable a criminal. Even in my small circle of acquaintance, I often had heard the name of Wardour quoted as a synonym for all that was vile and atrocious ; and this man I was now suddenly informed was my father ! My first impression was, that on the face of this disclosure it was impossible for me any longer voluntarily to exist. My mind wandered off to a quiet, cool nook in the Thames, overhung by osiers and alders, and radiant in the summer with forget-me-not and willow-herb. I knew that a few heavy stones sewn in the pockets, or a slight bandage round the ankles, would incapacitate the most experienced swimmer ; and I weighed the few minutes of physical agony which a drowning 2 * man might feel as less than nothing when com pared with the mental torture which life would after this discovery, be to me.

Then came the idea of poison, and I felt that there would be a grim satisfaction in ending an accursed race by the very instrument which had made it so accursed. I sat for hours balancing the merits of each alternative mode of extinction ; but the more I thought, the less would my vigorous being consent to relinquish its vitality. "Why," I began to think, "should I part al together with existence, when that removal to a foreign land which I had already planned would answer every purpose ? " The little world which conjectured and gossiped might be left many thousand miles behind me, — my identity would be undiscovered, — I might still take part in the adventures and enterprises on which my mind had always been fixed, — nay, more, by deeds of kindness and heroism I might atone for the sins of my father, and balance with good the evil which had been perpetrated.

My mind was made up. I would live, but only in some distant land ; and I felt, as I made this resolution, that nothing should ever induce me to revisit the land of my birth, which had never held out for me much attraction, and which I now regarded with positive abhorrence.

Chapter II

On 36oar5 Sbip. j H A T a change from my existence in the walled-in house and garden at Chiswick, to life on board the good : ship Atalanta, sailing away to San Francisco ! Shocked and bewildered with the information which the letter of my aunt — for so I must always call her — had given me, and craving with intuitive eagerness for a life of adventure in a new world, as far removed as possible from any being who had heard the name of the vile malefactor whom I must here after know as my own father, I naturally seized with the utmost eagnerness on all information which bore on the gold diggings, then in the .zenith of their attractiveness. I had no particular wish to increase my store of wealth ; indeed, I scarcely knew what the amount of it represented ; but I had a violent desire for a life of energy, for a companionship with men of enthusiasm and enterprise, and I soon found myself a steerage passenger — a position for obvious reasons my choice — bound for the land which at that time drew men of all nationalities to its shores, luring them to plunge into the golden DRIVEN HOME. stream which shone so vividly and which rewarded so lavishly, or disappointed so bitterly, its numer ous devotees.

If she had been capable of so indecorous a pro ceeding, I am certain poor Miss Bright would have turned in the trim little grave where, by this time, she must have been lying, in the neatest and quietest corner of the tidiest of churchyards, could she have realised the uses to which I put the " thorough grounding " in music and modern languages through which she so scrupulously in ducted me ! I could now exchange the most idiomatic Parisian French or the coarsest argot with any comer ; could almost rival in dance and song the most agile and tuneful Spaniard ; nay, I could improvise in a way which elicited at any rate applause equal to that which greeted the efforts in the same line of the solitary Italian on board. Poor Antonio ! A few years before, he had come to London with his wife and three thin large-eyed children, in hopes of getting better payment from the sale of his plaster images than he could in his own dear sunny impoverished Velletri ; but money seemed still scarcer and illness far more common in cold misty England.

He left his wife with an intense yearning to realise enough at the gold diggings to enable him to return to his native place. Of all men unfitted for such a struggle ; with no knowledge of any language but his own, except a few broken words of English; with a frame as delicate as that of his children, he hoped, with a sum in hand so small as, after payment of his passage - money to San Francisco, to represent something to the extent of thirty pounds, to take by storm a portion of the newly-discovered wealth. He supplemented his miserable capital by exer cising the natural gift of improvising stories. It was only in his own language, or in unintelligible English, that he did so ; but it appealed to the fancy of the sailors and the rough and ready passengers in the vessel, and often some trifling sum — trifling I mean in amount, but not so to him — would reward his efforts.

Thus it came to pass that I imitated him; and heaven forgive me if, in my new and insatiable love for notice and appreciation, I ever seemed to mock or rival him. I cannot believe, at any rate, that he thought so ; for I often gave him what would have represented the reward of a successful performance ; and when, three days before we landed, he quietly laid his head down in his dark and dirty bunk, it was to me he recommended the future of his wife and children, and to me he offered the few coins which for their sake he had so painfully amassed. I promised him that if I ever returned to England, my first care should be to discover the whereabouts of his family. Would that this had been the only promise of the sort I ever made ! But dancing and singing and story-telling were not my only accomplishments.

My early school DRIVEN HOME. education, my practice with the stalwart boatmen of the Thames, and a faultless constitution sub mitted to the healthiest surroundings, had made me a match in athletic exercises for anyone on board. Before many weeks had elapsed, I could lay out on a yard and help to reef a top sail, and was as active aloft as an old hand. On deck, I could take turn at heaving the lead, and could pick up soundings with accuracy; and in fine weather I had even been allowed to take a spell at the wheel, which was the greatest pleasure of all to me ; so glorious was the feeling of power when the huge vessel turned this way or that, according to the pressure I put on the rudder. More' than this, I was an adept in the pugilistic art, and could wrestle or spar with the most accomplished athlete on board.

Every moment of life now seemed worth living. I felt that I took an almost loving interest in everything and everybody with whom I came in contact, and in return all seemed to interest them selves affectionately in me. My nickname before the mast was " King George." There I was king, certainly ; and if in the whole vessel I had a rival in the admiration of the crew and passengers, our captain was the only one. - Let me speak of him. Of all the gallant, kind, true-hearted sailors that ever commanded a ship, none could have surpassed Captain Maitland. From the first he had appeared to regard me with deep interest, and I suppose that my boyish appreciation of all that was so new and pleasant to me must have attracted his observation ; and, naturally, the skill and prowess which I displayed must have excited some attention, even in his — nautically considered — exalted position, and made me a personage of some importance in his eyes.