The Robber's wife : A domestic romance

Preface

. The Author of the " Robber's Wipe" feels grateful to a kind public who have given him their support in so bountiful a manner, by causing the sale of this work to so far supersede all his other efforts. The success attending the publication of the " Hebrew Maiden" was very great, as well as that of " Kathleen ; or, the Secret Mabriage," both of which are now in rapid demand. He feels doubly grateful to find that his endeavours have been so well appreciated, for he has bestowed much time and attention in the production of his present work ; and he begs to assure his readers that all the important incidents related in it have had a locale in his experience, and have been but slightly altered to suit the novel form, and expression. The Public's Obidixn THE AUTHOR. London, 1852. "Why did slie love him Curious fool, be stiUl Is human love the growth of human will? Td her He might be gentleness 1 '— Lobd Byron

Chapter I. The Ruined Gamester

— SELF BANISHMENT. — A SEFAKAllun BETWEEN FATHER AND DAUGHTER. " Hear me, Rose, and do not speak till I have given ■ <o all I have to say. This night has completed the ruin winch you I must long have foreseen ! A broken gambler dares tell his child that he has brought her to ruin, and yet Heaven strikes me not with its lightnings. Yes, Rose, all but a mere wreck is gone— my once handsome fortune has been dissipated amongst gamblers, whom in my heart I despised, and who now laugh at me for the easy tool that they have used for the enrichment of themselves. Curses on my evil fortune ; or rawer enrses on my own blindness, that has thus led me on from step to step till I have no resource lelt Ut either to lay violent hands upon my own life, or go abroad, and by honest labour endeavour to No,l. hoard up for tbee another fortune equal, if not greater, than the one I have, been fool enough to lose.

You are about to interrupt me, Rose ; I Know wbat you would say, and, for your sake I will live, even though it be to drag through long years of incessant labour and remerse. But it must be abroad that I endeavour to re-construct my fortune, for never again can I look in the face of my cruelly wronged child, till I have replaced her in the situation from which my own madness has so cruelly hurled her !" It was three hours after midnight when these words were uttered by the remorseless father, ■jo the terrified and almost fainting Rose Briarly. She, however, listened to him with all the calmness she could assume, and pressed his c.ld hand within hers, as a token that she at least did not rebuke him for the errors which he himself so bitterly repented, and falling on his neck as be concluded, sbe, amidst tears and sobs, earnestly entreated him to abandon his design of leaving her to the care of strangers.

He was, however, immoveable, and parting the beautiful hair wbich had fallen over her neck and shoulders, impressed a burning kiss upon the white and acting head of his sorrowing daughter. " Do not urge me to remain in England," he said, " for nothing can ever alter my resolution , and within a few hours from this time, I shall be on board the vessel which is to bear me away from all that I bold dearest in the world." "Alas I" sbe exclaimed, "do you think, then, that I could ever reproach y.u for the past." " Not by words, dearest child,'' he replied, " but my heart must indeed be callous if I could see thee drooping day after day, and know that the beautiful flower has been blighted aud destroyed by the band which should have nurtured it. In the meantime, however, I have made what arrangements 1 can to secure some comfort for you during my absence, which must necessarily be of some duration, since 1 am determined never to return to England till I bave fully earned back as much as I have squandered away.

Our neighbour and friend, Mr. HoHseman, will be a kind and faithful guardian to you whilst I am away, and you will bave the consolation of knowing that I leave you not with him as a recipient of his charity. The furniture and plate that yet remains to me will produce between three and four hundred pounds, which will be placed in his hands for your use, and by the time that has been expended, I hope to send remittances from abroad out of the money I may be able to lay by." " But why, dear father.'' exclaimed Rose Briarly, " do you think only of me, when you it ill have so many sad privations of your own to suffer ?" " Do I not deserve them all?" he asked, bitterly, "and have I any right to repine at afflic tion., that have been brought on by the wickedness of my own conduct? No, my child, I will endure all with patience ; and should fortune smile ea my future endeavours, 1 shall be more tban rewarded in the knowledge tbat you will not hereafter have it to say that you were left a beggar through tlie recklessness and folly of your father." •'Think you I could ever utter or even imagine such a reproach ?" demanded Rose.

" Perhaps not," he replied, " but when poverty presses upon us we are apt to blame those who have been the cause of it. For my own part, as 1 deserve all, I will endure all, and there is one sad consolation left for me, in the fact that your poor mother lived net to witness the wreck of our once handsome fortune. Had she done so, Rose, she would have sunk under a misfortune that she never could have contemplated." " Yet, had she been alive," answered4Rose, with a deep drawn sigh, "you would not have left England, to pass, perhaps, long years of absence in a foreign country." " The separation would indeed have been a cruel infliction." exclaimed Mr. Briarly, " but I believe it must have been submitted to, for the same reason that already exists. Here I can no longer hold ny my head, and anything must be submitted to rather than see pointed against me the finger of scorn.

The curse of remorse will follow me wherever I go, but in a foreign country I shall at least be spared the torture of hearing the reproaches of those who know the mad infatuation tbat has produced this sad change in my fortunes. Do not therefore add to tbe bitterness of this moment by repining at my determination, but rather endeavour to find comfort in the hepe that our separation will not be eternal." " Is it absolutely necessarv ?" " It is." " You have lost all, then?" " Everything but about au hundred pounds, which will enable me to re-establish myself in some far distant place. All in this house becomes yours from this moment, and the money produced by the sale will serve for your support till I am able to transmit to your guardian such sums as I can spare out of my gains." " Surely," cried Rose, with alarm, as a new thought rose in her mind, "you do not intend te follow abroad the same course that has proved so disastrous here ?' ' ' Make yourself easy upon that point, Rose," he replied, "for I have sworn never again to touch dice or cards."

( r " How then do you propose repairing your broken fortune ?" " By honest commerce." "Are you fitted for it i" she asked. " I am," answered Mr. Briarly. " The earlier portion of my life was passed in the counting house of my father, whose success enabled him to retire with a large fortune whilst yet in the prime of life. That period, brief as it was, served to initiate me into the routine of business, and tbe knowledge then acquired is still as fresh in roy memory as ever it was. You see, therefore, I am pursuing no vain shadow, and time will preve that the lesson of adversity I have received has not been thrown away upon me." " If your success is so probable," asked Rose, " why may I nol follow to the place you go to ?" " Because the sight of you would-be a continual reproach to me," he replied with a sigh."

" May I hope to join you at no distant period?" *' I will make no promise, for all will depend en circumstances." " At least you will often write to me ?" " Perhaps never," he replied, " for it is my wish tbat no one shall know where I am, till the period arrives when I can return home with the fortune 1 am about to strive for. Nay, in order to defeat all enquiries that may be made, I shall assume another name, till 1 can again pass under my own with honour." " Alas, then," cried -Rose, " the separation maybe eternal !" " If it is so," answered her father, " you may rely upon it that my efforts have not met with the success I anticipate. Should I fail in realizing a fortune, I will end my days unknown in the place whither I am going." "Cruel, cruel destiny!" wept Rose; "to lose — perhaps for ever — the only one I truly love !•' " Ah, my child," exclaimed hei father, " your words remind me ofanother subject[upon which I am anxious to speak.

It is, I know, through my own culpable neglect of home, that the visits of Mark Redland here, have, of late, filled me with great uneasiness. He has, if 1 mistake not, endeavoured to g3in your affection ; and now that we are about to part, I must warn you against giving the slightest encouragement to one whose conduct has made him an outcast from all respectable society." " Do you suspect him to be my lover?" asked Rose. " I have done so for seme little time," answered her father, " and it is one thing I have to reproach myself for, since it was my duty long since to have cautioned you against the continu ance of a connexion that will bring shame and disgrace upon you." "Has he been guilty of crime ?" she asked. " I will not enter into an explanation of my reasons for this warning," replied Mr. Briarly, " for a promise ence given is not to be lightly violated.

You may, however, believe me, Rose, that this caution would not bave been uttered, had I not feared that he is endeavouring to gain your affections." "He has called frequently when you bave been absent," replied our heroine, "but I have always thought his visits were intended for you, and not for myself." " I, myself, was so convinced that the contrary was the fact," exclaimed Mr. Briarly, " that I wrote him a letter not long since to insist upon his calling no more at my house. He has, however, continued to do so, and it is therefore necessary that I lay my commands upon you not to permit his visits during our separation." "I will tell him what yon have said." " That," answered her father, " will be of very little use, unless you obey me in one thing." " Be assured, dear father, your slightest wish shall be obeyed."

" Then receive the attentions of Edward Luttrel, and the other will soon retire before a successful rival.'' " Edward Luttrel !" she exclaimed ; " my heart never can be bis." " Then you are unjustly prejudiced against one whose character has ever been unimpeachable," exclaimed her father. " He has a moderate fortune, is honest and industrious, and, I believe, is of so good a disposition that no woman can be unhappy who has him for a husband." " Except one who loves him not." " Perhaps there may be some prejudice which he may in time be able to overcome ?" " I believe, for his own sake, he bad better not try," answered Rose ; " for when there is no hope, it would be an act of cruelty to suScr him to deceive himself." '• Yet," exclaimed Mr. Briarly, " as my last request, I was in hopes you would not have let me depart without acceding to it." * " Well," she replied, taking his hand, ' I was wrong to give so decided a refusal withoutfirst of all trying whether my heart might not be brought to regard him with more favour than it has hitherto done.

If it is yonr wish I will permit him te visit me, though, I fear, with very little probability of success." " And will you promise me never to become the wife of Mark Redland ? ' " At present," she replied, " I have never regarded him in any other light than as a person who might have occasion to visit your house on affairs of business.'' "Has he never spoken to you on the subject of love . " "Never." " And you have not had reason to suppose you were the attraction that drew him here ?" " Such a thought never entered my head." "Nevertheless, I have sufficient reason to believe that my own opinion is correct," exclaimed her father ; " and knowing the character of the man, it is my duty to warn you against entering into an engagement tbat must bring bitterness and misery upon your after life.

Shun him, my child, as you would anything else that was bad; and, above all things, acquaint Mr. Houseman, your future guardian, if he makes a proposal for your band. Do this, or when I return home at the expiration Df years to come, I shall find thee that which my heart shudders to think of." " Alas I" sighed Rose, " is it net grievous io know that you are obliged to leaveme when in so much need of your protection?" " Your words sound as a reproach to me," exclaimed her father, "and should sorrow fall on me during my absence, I shall ever afterwards reproach myself as being the cause. You will, however, bear my words in your remembrance, and thus spare mo the agony of seeing you the wife of a villain." . " A villain !" cried our heroine ; " has Mark Redland ever been guilty of an act deserving such an epithet?"

" I have said before that I cannot explain myself further abont him," answered Mr. Briarly, " but you may gather from what Iihave said, that he is no fitting match for you. Shun him, I warn you, or the future will be sorrow and despair.' ' " Surely," exclaimed Rose, " when a man is charged with being a villain, it is only fair that you should say what act he has committed that has made bim deserve the name." " I have said there is a reason for it, which 1 am not able to explain," answered her father. " You may, however, fallen as I am into dishonour, believe that I am still incapable of uttering a falsehood, even against an enemy. Ask me no further questions, then, but, as you value your own peace of mind, beware of Mark Redland, and at once and for ever discard him from your presence !" " Why, dearest father," she asked, " can you not remain in England, and afford me that protection which it seems I se much need?"

" I have told you that I cannot endure the scorn of those who know what a wretch I have been." " But why need you care for the world, so long as you retain the love and affection of your daughter?" " It is in vain te urge me upon that subject," exclaimed Mr. Briarly, " for I am resolved, and even your well-meant persuasions will not prevail over me. I have brought misery and rum upon her whose sole dependence was in me, and if Heaven spares my life a few years, I will wipe out the foul stain that has dishonoured the name I bear. A few years, well applied, will serve to effect my purpose, and when that is done, I care not how soon I find forgetfulness of the past in the grave. But enough of this, 'tis time you were in bed, Rose, for these hours of mine have already robbed thee of too much of the rest thou requirest."

" Are you not going also I" she asked, seeing that he moved not from his chair. " No," he replied, " I have many things to arrange to-night, previously to my departure, and time is just now too precious to he wasted in sleep, that I can d» well enough without. So now to bed, my love, and above all things do not forget any of the injunctions I have laid upon you. Good night, and may Heaven in its mercy watch over and protect you." He kissed her with more than his usual warmth of affection, and having pressed her to his bosom, as he muttered words that were unintelligible to her ears, sunk back in his chair, and waved his hand for her to leave him. Reluctantly enough she obeyed him, and retired to her room, and throwing herself upon the bel, dressed as she was, gave way to the tears of sorrow and regret which her father's unexpected departure gave rise to.

At length exhausted naturo gave way to sleep, but only to dream of her grie's, and tho absence of him'who, in spite of his past infatuation she still fondly loved. The sun had risen high before Rose Briarly awoke from her uneasy slumbers, and instantly remembering the recent interview with her father, she sprang up, and without the loss of a moment proceeded to the room in which they usually break fasted together. He was not there, and believing h« was still in his chamber, she made her way thither to call him. The door stood open, and she could perceive by tho appearance ofthe bed that it had not been slept in. Alarmed at this she returned with all speed to the room which she had just left, when she was immediately joined by Martha, the housekeeper, whose countenance betrayed that she had some important matter to reveal.

" If you are looking for yonr father, miss,'' said the domestic, " he has been gone out these two hours, and from a certain strangeness in his manner, I have a foreboding that he is not likely to return again for some time to come." " Merciful Heaven ! what do you mean by those words ?" exclaimed Rose, with alarm. " I mean that master looked very wild and disturbed," answered the housekeeper ; " and as he gave me a letter to deliver into your hands as soon as you got up, I thought it seemed very much as if he was going te leave us for some time." Rose impatiently snatched the letter from the woman, and having torn it open with a trembling and, read as follows — " My Dearest Child, " Peeling myself utterly unable to endure the torture of a parting interview, I have resolved to flee from my home whilst you are still wrapped in the unconsciousness of sleep.

Prom our recent conversation you are aware that our separation is likely to be of some duration, but let not that grieve you, for if happiness can ever again be mine, it will be whilst I am honourably occupied in endeavouring to accumulate for you a fortune tbat shall at least be equal to the one I have so thoughtlessly lost at the gaming table. As you value my savour and your own happi ness, do not risk either of them by encouraging the attentions of the man against whom I have warned you. Let him see at once by your firmness that all his hopes are at an end, and if yeu can so far comply with' the wishes of a father who scarcely deserves yonr regard, look with a favourable eye upon the more modest pretensions of his rival, who I believe loves you with an affection as sincere as it is honourable.

If you obey my wishes in this respe.t I think there is every chance of happiness when I return, which may not be, as you a re aware, for some years. At any rate suffer not the addresses of Mark Redland, as you wo lid preserve the affection of, " Your Unhappy Father, ' Rose Brisrly stood as if transfixed for some few moments after she had perused these few lines, and then folding up the letter, she thrust it into her bosom, to be perused again and a gain when she felt cooler and more collected for the task. "Are you sure my father left the house after giving you this note ?" she eagerly in quired. " I am quite sure of it," she replied, "for the horse was standing ready saddled for him at the door, and throwing himself upon its back he galloped off before I had time to asl him a single question." . '* Did he say nothing about returning ?"

" Not a word, miss." " Nor where he was going to?" " No,'* replied Martha, "but I should have made bold to ask him, though, if he had not been off in such a hurry." •* Was there anything wild in his manner ?" " Not exactly wild," replied the housekeeper, " but he was a good deal agitated, and it seemed to me as if something very particular had happened to flurry him so." " Something particular has happened," sighed Rose, " he leaves home a ruined man, and henceforth I am to look for protection from the hands ef one who is almost a stranger." " Mercy on me ! you don't say so?" cried Mrs. Martha. "Alas! it is bnt too certain that onrruinis complete," answered Rose, "for he confessed all to me last night when he returned home. For a motive wbich I cannot explai», he leaves his native land for some years, and during his absence I am to find shelter under the roof of his friend, Mr. Houseman ; such is my destiny, Martha.

Most fervently do I wish Heaven had removed me, ere this unhappy day arrived." " Ah ! miss, this is sad news, indeed," cried Martha. " However, if you have no other friend, I will always be one, and nothing shall ever induce me to leave you." " You have ever been kind and affectionate to me, Martha," replied her young mistress, "but circumstances have now so greatly changed, that I can no longer keep you in my service." " Why not, miss ?" " Because I have suddenly fallen from wealth to poverty." "And do you think that can make any difference to a person that has any heart at all?" demanded the faitbfol ereature. " I have my own savings to live on, so that wages are no longer an object, and nothing shall ever part me from you, except your own positive orders, and that would break my heart outright."

" Well," answered Rose, " we will speak further upon that subject when there is not so much to harass and distract my mind. My first care must be to see Mr. Houseman, and ascertain whether he is willing to undertake the charge that has been so unexpectedly thrown upon him. When that is known, I have no alternative but to sell all that this heuse contains, for it is all that remains of my father's once large fortune." "Dear, dear!" cried Martha, " what a trying time you have got to come, and how calm and lamb-like you look upon your misfortunes. But Heaven never forsakes the good and virtuous, and you will yet be happy, in spite of the dark cloud that at present hangs over you." "How can I be happy, Martha," exclaimed our heroine, " when I am not allowed even to know tbe place wbere my father is going to ?'" " Wouldn't he tell you that ?"

" He told me that it was a secret I must never expect to learn," answered Rose ; " but, at the same time bade me console myself with the hope that he would one day return with a fertune as large as that which bas beeu lost. But what care I for all the gold that the world contains when deprived of him whom I have ever loved and reverenced?" " And yet he has given you cause enough te regard him with very different feelings from those." " Hush !" exclaimed Rose, " and do not commit a violence against my feelings, by saying a word to the prejudice of my father. If he had faults he is now about to expiate them, and I fear he has already suffered more anguish of mind than his offence deserves." " But what excuse can be made for his deserting you at such a time as this ?" " A father needs no excuse from his child," answered Rose, reprovingly, "nor will I ever permit a harsh thought to enter my mind, since I know that he has been led away by " A loud knocking at the hall door interrupted her, and whilst Mrs. Martha bustled away te see who it was, Rose Briarly seated herself to receive her visitor.

Chapter II. The Visitor Proves To Be

A DISINTERESTED FRIEND. — ROSE BRIARLY REMOVES TO OTHER QUARTERS.— THE TWO FRIENDS. — MARK REDLANB'S SUIT APPEARS TO BE NOT ALTOGETHER HOPELESS. In a minute or two afterwards the housekeeper returned and conducted into the room Mr. Houseman, who, without waiting any time in useless regrets for what had taken place, entered at once iato the object tbat had occasioned his visit. " My appearance here tbis morning, Miss Briarly," he said, shaking her kindly by the hand, " will, 1 am sure, require no apology, when I inform yoa that I have come in consequence of a letter received early this morning from your father." " You know all, then?" sbe sighed. " Quite sufficient, at any rate,'' answered the old gentleman, " to convince me that I had no time to lose. His note informs me that his present views are entirely ruined, and that for a time it will be necessary to reside abroad.

It is his wish too, that during his absence, you should take up your abode beneath my roof, which is an arrangement that I hardly need tell you is freely and cordially responded to." "Are you aware, sir," asked Rose, with a deep-drawn sigh, that you have offered an asylum to a beggar ?" "I know your circumstances are at present in a very unfortunate condition," replied the old gentleman, " but, instead of depressing your mind, I prefer encouraging you with a hope that affairs will before long wear a brighter aspect. Your father, too, has directed me to sell off all the property which he has left behind him, and to apply it to your use, expressing at the same time a hope that before it is exhausted, he will be able to remit a further sum of money from a new source, which he says is now open to him.

Be comforted, therefore, and nothing on my part shall be omitted that can in any way tend towards mitigating the grief with which you have been so suddenly oppressed." " Ah ! sir," cried Rose, " how can I ever sufficiently express my gratitude for this kind ness towards one who has no claim to it." " Those who are unfortunate have the strongest claims upon those who have it in their power to assist them," answered the old gentleman. " Towards your father, too, I bave always entertainod the strongest feelings of friendship, and how can I better prove the sincerity of my regard than by affording my protection lo his unfortunate daughter ? Yoh may, therefore, rest assured, my dear girl, that, as far as lies in my power, I will perform towards you the part of a faithful and sincere friend." " Words are too weak to express tbe feelings of my heart," cried Rose, fervently, " but my future actions shall at least prove that I am not unworthy the generous warmth with which you have responded to the last wish of my unhappy parent."

" That reminds me," answered Mr. Houseman, " that your father has most earnestly re quested me to exert all my influence to prevail upon you to prevent your marriage with a young man, who he is afraid is endeavouring to win your affections. I suppose, Rose, yon knew to whom he alludes ?" " I do," she replied. " It is Mark Redland ; but why he has formed so strong a dislike to him, I am at a loss to imagine." "Do you not know, then," asked the old gentleman, "that he bears but an indifferent character in the neighbourhood ?" " Perhaps people report falsely of him," sbe replied, "for to me he appears to be as well conducted as those who have endeavoured to ruin him in the world's estimation." " Then you confess a partiality towards him?" " I should be guilty of a great wrong," she replied, " if I did not fearlessly confess that his devotion has made a deep impression on my heart.