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Arthur Jessieson. A novel

Joseph Crawford Scott · 1878 · Scanned text

52,166 words · about 3 h 39 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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Licence: PDM · British Library Digitised Books dataset db14 (doi 10.21250/db14) marks the OCR texts CC Public Domain Mark 1.0 (c. 1510-c. 1900 publications); text+metadata JSONL release doi 10.23636/r7w6-zy15 is CC0 1.0. Public Domain Mark is a status label, not a new copyright licence. · Digitised by the British Library (with Microsoft). Text: British Library Digitised Books, CC Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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About this book

Author
Joseph Crawford Scott
Language
English
Published
1878
Length
52,166 words · about 3 h 39 min
Sections
16 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public Domain Mark 1.0

 

Contents (16)
  1. Chapter I about 11 min
  2. Chapter II about 10 min
  3. Chapter III about 6 min
  4. Chapter IV about 16 min
  5. Chapter V about 17 min
  6. Chapter VI about 31 min
  7. Chapter VII about 13 min
  8. Chapter VIII about 7 min
  9. Chapter IX about 5 min
  10. Chapter X about 13 min
  11. Chapter XI about 5 min
  12. Chapter XII about 34 min
  13. Chapter XIII about 4 min
  14. Chapter XIV about 18 min
  15. Chapter XV about 28 min
  16. Chapter XVI about 1 min

Continue:

Chapter I

I had not to wait for Ada more than a few minutes, and when she came I went with her towards the door of the house. I did not intend to take my luggage, nor even to leaA'e Harry behind for it, as I thought he might prove useful if I took him with me. AVhde waiting for Ada I had summoned my servant, and I now told him to go in search of a carriage or cab. As some of the servants appeared while I was waiting Avith Ada, I went outside with her. She took my arm, and we walked backwards and forwards in silence for several minutes. I soon saw a carriage approaching, AA'hich I knew was the one I had ordered, as I recognized VOL. II. IJ my valet sitting beside the driver. As soon as the carriage stopped, I assisted Ada to enter, and was about to seat myself beside her, when my servant uttered an exclamation of warning and rushed towards me ; at the same time Ada gave a loud scream.

Before I could comprehend the significance of these sounds, I felt a heavy blow descend upon my head, and staggering beneath it I sank to the ground. I was not at first rendered wholly insensible, for I Avas conscious that a scuffle was going on above me, and then I knew that Ada was stooping over me. I felt myself being raised and borne along, while ever}*thing swam around me, and after that I knew no more. AVhen I recovered my consciousness, I found that I was in an elegantly furnished bedroom. The first person I saw was my servant, who was watching over me ; then I noticed M. Boray and two gentlemen Avho were evidently doctors. In answer to my questions I was told that I had been attacked by some unknown person, and made insensible by a blow upon the head. M. Boray added that my life had probably been saved by the bravery of my servant, Avho had prevented my assailant from striking me after I had faden.

I looked at Harry gratefully, and he actually blushed as he met my thankful gaze. As the room AA'here I lay was for the most part kept darkened, I had not a very accurate concep tion of Iioav time Avas passing, but I seemed to have been in bed for about tAvo days when I Avas seized by a sudden curiosity to learn more about the cause of my hurt. The first time, therefore, that Ada came Avith her uncle to inquire for me, I put some questions to her on the subject, but as she was evidently un Avilling to give me any information, I did not press her, but resolved to obtain what I wanted from another source. Accordingly the first time I was alone Avith my servant I asked — " Hoav did I get this Avound ? Avho gave it me? Tell me AA'hat you know." " AVeU, sh, you see," he rephed, "as I was bringing up the carriage for you, I was sitting outside and Avas keeping a sharp look-out for you, so as to be able to tell the driver to pud up at the proper place.

I saAv you, sir, plain enough, and so I told the man to stop where you Avere. Then I noticed some one behind you, following and Avatching you, but I thought it was better to get you into the carriage and say nothing about it, as Ave could easily drive away. But just after you had handed in Miss Boray, I saAv the man raise his hand and point a pistol at you. He appeared to hesitate— I suppose he Avas afraid of shooting the lady — and then I called out some thing to you and sprang forward, but he rushed at you and knocked you down. He attempted to shoot you Avhen you were on the ground, but I struck up his arm ; and as Miss Boray cried for help, some people came up and he ran off." "AVhat description of man was he?" I in quired. " Did you see his face ? " " I did not see his face very well, as it Avas pretty dark; but I have often seen it before."

The tone of voice in which Harry replied was peculiar. "Then," I said, "you know who my assailant was." "Yes. No doubt of it." " AVho is he ? " I asked eagerly, starting up. Harry looked frightened as he said, " I have been cautioned by the doctors and Monsieur Boray not to speak much to you." " Answer my question at once," I demanded. " The man Avho tried to kid you," he replied, " Avas Lord AVyndford's nephew, Mr. RaAvnsley." I told Harry that I Avas satisfied hoav, and that he Avas to leave me. I lay and pondered on the intelligence to which I had just listened. I had no doubt of its truth. So far as I kneAv, I had only one enemy aaIio would attempt my life ; and I believed that, independently of Harry's information, I might have conjectured the truth, had I tried to discover it. I knew that Rawnsley Avas an arrant coward, and would probably make other attempts to take my life, but I Avas not afraid of him.

It Avas Avhen I thought of Ada that I became truly alarmed ; for I believed that RaAvnsley, if he had the opportunity, Avas capable of carrying her off against her will. I was, therefore, confirmed in my resolution never again to leave her, that I might be able to protect her and save her from the ruffian Avho threatened to harm her. The enmity I bore him for his attack upon me faded into insignificance Avhen I remembered that he was the only obstacle to my perfect happiness. Much against the wishes both of my medical attendant and of M. Boray, I left my bedroom four days after my mishap ; and M. Boray being kind enough to convert a small salon into an infirmary for me, I began to pass the days there. Ada sometimes sat beside me, silent over her embroidery ; sometimes she read aloud ; but oftenest Ave talked.

I rapidly recoA'ered ; but the state of being an invalid Avas so novel and pleasant, that I was in no great hurry to change my condition. One day I Avas reclining on a couch, drinking chocolate from a cup that I had filled from a jug which stood on a small, round, inlaid table beside me. Ada Avas sitting on a stool by the fire, reading the Queen, Avhich she had received that morning from London, and she Avas occasionally permitting me to share the information she perused, by reading aloud some paragraph AA'hich she considered of more than common importance. An embroidered screen, her haudiAvork, by cut ting off a part of the small room, reduced the tableau to a miniature. M. Boray 's chef made chocolate that Avas most delicious to sip ; the colours of the screen were artistically blended, and formed a beautiful background for Ada's tight, becoming blue dress ; and her SAveet voice was pleasant to hear, as eA'er and anon it broke the sdence of the chamber.

" Ada," I said, " please put chrwn that paper for a little, and speak to me." "Very well," she said ; "there, I have obeyed you. Invalids must be humoured in everything." " I am scarcely entitled to be called an invalid now, for I am almost well." " Do you know," she said, laughing, " I think you are better, and I am so glad of it." " At all events, I am well enough to talk to you on the subject which once before you thought me too ill to speak of." " AVhat Avas that ? " " Do you know Avho it was attacked me on that unlucky night ? " "Yes." As she made this reply, her face became a bright crimson ; then she assumed a look of anger, and clenched her hand, as if she had been confronted with some adversary. Neither of us spoke for a little, and then she said, " You caded that night unlucky ; it was so with regard to your hurt and danger, but it was fortunate for us in every other respect."

"AVhy?" " Do you not understand me ? " "Certainly not." " Then you do not try to comprehend my meaning." " Indeed I do, and fail utterly." " Do you think that had that accident not befallen you, we should have been as happy now as we are ? " " Yes, and a great deal happier, had our purpose not been thwarted by that vdlain." " He is a vdlain ; but, had he been an angel sent from heaven, he could scarcely haA'e done us a greater service." " I hope we shall have no more of such angel's visits ; and if he crosses my path " "Do not presuppose such a thing ! " exclaimed Ada, shuddering. " I do not AA'ish," I said, " to foretell evil, but would rather speak of something more pleasant." " Let us, then." " You know I am almost Avell ; when Avill you be ready to come Avith me ? AVe shall make more secure and elaborate preparations this time ; when do you think you will be ready to go ?

" " Never, Arthur." " Never ! " I exclaimed in astonishment. " No, Arthur ; you must not ask me, though I believe that noAv I am strong-minded enough to resist any entreaties. Ever since you were struck that night I have been thinking over the folly of the course Ave were taking, and I have determined never to repeat it, nor give my consent to a simdar plan." I did not believe her words, and, oAving to my success on the former occasion, I expected the same result on this, but was doomed to disappointment. It was in vain that I pleaded, using all my resources of argument and persuasion, for she remained steadfast in her resolution. She had evidently fortified herself beforehand by pondering over the matter in all its bearings, and she was prepared Avith answers to all my reasonings and entreaties.

At last I had perfectly recovered, and the time came Avhen I was to leave M. Boray 's house. I resolved to make a final attempt to obtain Ada's consent to accompany me, and for this purpose I sought an intervieAV Avith her the night before the day on which I was to leave. We conversed long and earnestly together, with much the same result as usual. " RaAvnsley," I said, " has proved that he would not hesitate to do anything ; how can I leave you at his mercy ? Even now he may be watching the house, and may know aU your movements, that he may take advantage of them. He is utterly unscrupulous, and would think himself justified iu taking any step that would enable him to assert the claim he imagines he has to you. I cannot leave you, Ada, -with such a danger continually threatening you." " I am able to protect myself," she replied, " and shall always be on my guard against him, so you need have no apprehension on my account."

"How is it possible, Ada, for me to be at rest, knowing you to be in danger ? " "I shall not be greatly uneasy, yet I have more cause to be alarmed than you." " But you do not realize your position." " I think I do." " I Avish to have a final answer before I leave Paris. Do you absolutely refuse to become my wife ? " " I do, but only because it is impossible." " AVe must part, then, and we ought never to meet again." " AVhy should not Ave ? " "Because your decision would make such meetings unpleasant ; and besides, I have no desire to see again one Avho has so greatly de ceived me AA'ith regard to the feelings I have always believed you entertained for me." " You are very hard upon me ! If you only knew ! " " AVhat ? " " The cost of the struggle I have had in trying to do right." " If you Avill not consent to be my Avife, I must find some one else who will."

Ada became deadly pale, and raised her hand for a moment, as if in a paroxysm of pain. " Do you intend to marry ? " she asked faintly. " Yes," I replied, " for it is worse than useless to be kept by you in a state of perpetual anxiety." She seemed much agitated, so I continued, " But will you not relent ere it be too late ? " " I cannot ; it is not possible." " Then good-bye. It is a miserable conclusion to our love that you should compel me to leave you thus." I could not meet her sorrowful eyes, as she answered in accents of acute pain — " Try to understand me, and to do me justice, and then if you have loved me truly, you wdl not, even should you never see me again, give your heart to another, and, and — kill me." Having said this she covered her face Avith her hands, and fled from the room.

I did not see her again, and next morning, in a very bitter state of mind, I left M. Boray 's house, for I kneAv not what destination. I went to an hotel, where I remained two days. On the morning of the third day, as I entered the reading-room, I was greeted by a familiar voice. " Demme, Jessieson ! Glad to see you." " I must reciprocate the sentiment, Fobham," I replied, " as I am feeling rather dull." " Dull iu Paris ! That is surely meant as a joke ; though, demme ! if I don't believe that any man, after enjoying himself in London, might well enough be dull here. Something of that sort you mean, eh ? " " Not exactly." " Do you intend remaining here long ? " " I am only Avaiting for the slightest reason to leave." " Then, demme ! why not come with me ? " " AVhere are you going ? " " I have a brother who is reading for the army, and he is noAv at Tours, living with an abbe there, for his French.

He finds the place rather stupid, and wrote to me, asking me to come and see him. As he is my only brother, I thought it my duty, demme ! to go and see hoAV he is getting on ; so here I am on my way to him. Now, if you haven't seen that part of France, and have nothing better to do, demme ! why shouldn't you come with me ? I shall be very glad to have your company." I readily agreed to go Avith him, and a little after eight o'clock that evening we Avere in the magnificent Avaiting-room of the Orleans Radway, ready for the express that was to convey us to the capital of Touraine. AVe arrived at Tours about half-past twelve, and went to the L'Uni vers.

Chapter II

I saw very little of Lord Fobham, who found congenial companions in some of the fast young Englishmen, AA'ho seemed to frequent the town in surprising numbers ; but though I Avas not privdeged much with his society, I was at no loss for occupation in the city of Balzac and Descartes. The beauty of the Loire and the ancient eccle siastical architecture were alone sufficient to engage my attention for several days. One evening Lord Fobham entered our private room with a most dejected countenance. He threAv himself on a sofa, and gave vent to a feAV profound sighs. " What is the matter ? " I asked, expecting to hear that something serious had occurred. " The fact is, demme ! " said Lord Fobham, " that I am in love." " AVhen did this occur ? " I inquired. " To-day," he rephed, with another deep sigh.

"Tell me about it." " It is a very short story ; more's the pity." " It Avill be the more easily told." " Demme ! you know, I don't think this is a matter for laughing." " I shad be sorry to hear that it is serious. " Demme ! then it is." " AVho is she ? " " Several times since I came here, when driving on the St. George side of the river and towards Vouvray, I have seen a lady of most splendid figure, walking by herself. She always wears a thick veil, so that it was impossible to see her face; but her symmetry was of that style that you might take your oath, demme ! it must be accompanied by vast beauty. I Avas smitten from the first, but to-day I saw her in toAA'n iu a phaeton. Her veil Avas up as I passed, and I fell most deplorably in love." " Supposing you are in earnest, it Avas rather a foolish thing to clo."

" I couldn't help it, demme ! I AA'ish, Jessieson, you could assist me ; I mean advise me a bit. AVhat would you recommend, now, sup posing it was your own case ? " " I should like to see the lady before giving an opinion." " You speak like a true friend," exclaimed Lord Fobham, grasping my hand. " I begin now for the first time to have some hope, but before I was dreadfully unhappy." Then turning to the waiter, for whom he had rung, he said, " Garsong voulez vous porter ici champagne ; pas de demmed Vouvray, mais Clicquot, si'l vous plait." Lord Fobham's French was not intelligible to the waiter, so it was necessary for me to interpret his order. The next morning I agreed to accompany him to the locality where he expected to see the object of his affections. As several hours must, he said, elapse before it was time for us to go, I meanwhile placed myself under his guidance.

We first strolled for some time up and down the Rue Royale. We then entered the Cafe de la Vdle, which VOL. II. c seemed to be well patronized by our compatriots. In one corner were tAvo billiard -tables, and by the grotesque gestures of the players, even before we heard their oaths, no one could have failed to know that they Avere English. In another part a crowd surrounded a baize-covered table, where a game of ecarte was going on, one of the players holding a strong bank against any who chose to stake tlieir money on his opponent's luck. Many Avere availing themselves of the opportunity, and at every pass several hundred francs changed hands. Among the group that surrounded the players, Lord Fobham found his brother, who asked the loan of several napoleons, as he said he had been unlucky, the bank having passed seven times.

Lord Fobham at once handed him the money, and Ave turned away. The majority of those present were French officers, who sat smoking at the various tables, some being en gaged at cards or dominoes, while others were content to look over the journals as they drank their absinthe. After remaining some time, Ave left this Gallic cross between club and public house. AVe next went and procured a trap, in which we drove across the Pont Pierre, and then along the bank of the Loire, in the direction of Vouvray. The day was fine, and on our right the river flowed rapidly, making a low and pleasant music among its green islands. After we passed the convent of Marmoutier Lord Fobham, who was holding the reins in his skilled hands, made the horses walk, AA'hile he evidently kept a sharp look-out along the road.

There was no doubt that he was very nervous. " This is the place," he said, " where she takes a walk every day about this time." As we were passing a large iron gate, from which an avenue led to a vdla on the side of the hill of St. George, I saw a lady crossing the path near the house. It was impossible at the distance to distinguish her face, but by the brief glance I had of her, I received the impression that her figure was familiar to me. I looked at Lord Fobham, and knew by his expression that we had seen the lady of Avhom he had spoken to me. No sooner had I seen her than I felt annoyed, if not ashamed, that I had accompanied Lord Fobham for such a purpose as that for which we had come, and I asked him to return, which he did not appear unwilling to do, perhaps because the lady had now entered the house.

He commenced several times to ask for advice concerning the matter, but I always changed the conversation, and refused to speak upon the subject. I became angry with myself when I found that it was impossible to banish from my thoughts the lady Avhom I had seen in the avenue. The impression that she was some one whom I knew grew stronger, and at last I resolved that, without telling Lord Fobham of my intentions, I would endeavour to discover Avho she was, and, if possible, obtain an interview. For several days, however, I remained inactive, and as I had censured Lord Fobham for o-nhio near her house, he kept away, and I heard nothing more of the fair unknown, though she still continued to occupy my thoughts in an unaccountable manner. I had not yet been inside the cathedral, and one day I went out alone for this purpose.

I took a careful and admiring survey of the structure, and was about to leave, when my attention was arrested by a lady who was sitting before a crucifix, apparently engaged in devotion. Though I Avas standing behind her, I at once recognized her as being the lady whom I had seen Avhen I Avas in Lord Fobham's company. The conviction that I had met her before returned with renewed force, and I resolved to wait tdl she should rise, iu order that I might address her. At last she prepared to go, and even before she turned her head I knew who she A\*as, and when her eyes met mine I looked into the fair face of her whom I had formerly known as Sister Grace. A crowd of old memories rushed upon me, and 1 felt again the spell she had exercised over me at BoAA'erdene. I do not believe uoav that I loved her ; but the influence she Avas destined to have over my life was greater than is commonly ex perienced by the most ardent lover.

Yet it was not a perception of the future that moved me so deeply as I gazed upon her Avonderful beauty. I took her hand iu mine and addressed her. She rose in confusion, and said in French, " I cannot talk here ; let us leave this place." AVe went out, and I asked her to take my arm, which she did, and then we walked in the direction of the Boulevard Beranger. " I think it is very fortunate," I said, " that I have met you, for I have often wished to see you, Sister Grace." " Do not call me by that name," she returned. " D'Este is my name, and I do not hke the other." " I beg pardon, Aliss D'Este. Have you been long here ? " " Several months only ; but I have been a con siderable time in France." " You are not displeased with me for speaking to you ? " "Why should I be?" " It makes me happy to hear you say that, for you used to be so shy of me that I despaired of ever hearing you address me in a friendly voice."

" You are unjust." " Have you remembered anything of our former intimacy ? " " I have not forgotten that I acceded to the last request you made of me." "The exception proved the rule, for you did not keep the promise which you made about granting mean interview." " I intended to do so, but was prevented." " In what manner ? " " An explanation now would take too long. " Will you give it me some time again ? " "Perhaps. I do not know." " I trust I shall see you sometimes, Miss D'Este ? " She did not reply for a little. At length she said, " I may sometimes see you ; I cannot tell." "AVill you permit me to call where you are staying ? " "I cannot." " Where, then, shall I see you ? for I do not wish to leave you without knowing where we shall again meet." " Why should we meet at all ? I think it would be better not to see each other again."

" Do not say that." " I do not think I can consent. You do not know — you cannot understand. Let us part." Her words bade me go, but the voice in which they were spoken told me I might stay. " I have nothing in the world," I said, " that is AA'orth hving for. I have no very dear friends, nor have I any one to love ; and noAv, when I have found you who, I belieA'e, alone can save me from a purposeless life, do not deprive me of my single surviving hope of happiness. " "You are rich, and, I should have thought, could be at no loss for pleasures, were such your desire ; but there are surely objects in life of more importance and better worthy your am bition." " I have no Avish for pleasures in theh* common signification, aud merely mentioned my lack of them to prove my loneliness. That I have money only shows my unhappiness to be the greater, for it leaves me so little hope of bettering my condition."

" If you are not happy the fault must be your OAA'll. " I think it is the fault of others." " Ah ! Have you been crossed in love ? " " No. But you have an example of my meaning in yourself. Your society improves the aspect of the world for me, and you seek to debar me from it." " I must leave you uoav." " But before you go you will tell me where I shall see you again ? " She hesitated for several seconds, and then said, " Nearly every day I shall leave the cathedral about the same hour at Avhich you saw me there to-day. If you come, I may perhaps see you for a short time outside the building ; but it would be better not to meet again. AVe " " Do not disappoint me, I beseech you, after raising my hopes." " Since you are so much in earnest, I will keep my promise. I have told you where avc can meet."

" You Avill not fail to come, as you did on the last appointment you made with me ? " "Believe me, I shad do my best to come. Adieu." " Au revoir." AVe were standing beside a small phaeton that Avas Avaiting on the Boulevard, and in which sat an elderly lady. Miss D'Este addressed this lady in French, asking if she had finished her shop ping, and received an answer in the affirmative. ARTHUR JESSIESON. She then entered the phaeton, and the servant, who was holding the reins, drove off. I returned to the hotel to reflect upon our meeting, for I could think of httle else. I found that the strange influence which this beautiful woman exercised over me had returned with its former strength. The feelings which I still enter tained for Ada Boray did not counteract this influence. On the contrary, as I was offended Avith Ada, and considered that she had deeply injured me, I Avas the more prone to seek for solace in another quarter.

I believe, also, that a feeling of pique and chagrin at Ada's rejection of my suit gaA'e rise to a sentiment of revenge, and that I found a balm for my Avounded affections in the thought of entrusting them to the keeping of another. I had no proof that Miss D'Este — or, as I preferred to think of her, Sister Grace — had any tender regard for me, but I had a strong impression that she did not look upon me with indifference. I interrupted Lord Fobham the first time he spoke to me of Aliss D'Este — Avhose name he had now discovered — by telling him that I knew who ARTHUR JESSIESON. she was, and was certain that she could never be his. This intelligence, which was conveyed to him in unmistakable language, had the effect of making him quit Tours abruptly, a result which, under the circumstances, I did not regret.

I was not disappointed in my expectation of seeing Sister Grace next day, and not only on that, but on many subsequent days, I saAv her for a short time. I cannot recount, for I have a very vague idea of, the pleadings I used to try and win her. Success at last croAvned my efforts, and I obtained her consent to become my wife.

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