Chapter 30

"Here is my hand for my true constancy."

"There is a fair behavior in thee, captain; I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character." SHAKSPEARE.

"Villain!" muttered Vernon, as Maxwell left the coffee-room, "your work of iniquity is nearly done. If from the depths of my seared heart can come up one single good impulse to guide me, I will bring the guilty and the innocent to their just desert."

He had told Maxwell that he should go to Baton Rouge, and prudence required him to go. He had certain intelligence that a boat would leave in an hour, and he hastily wrote the letter to Captain Carroll. This letter was not exactly of the tenor Maxwell had bargained for, inasmuch as the object of it was to request the immediate presence of his father and Henry at Bellevue, which promised soon to be the theatre of war. With this letter in his pocket, he made his way to the levee, and departed for Baton Rouge.

It was with some compunction that he took this seemingly inconsistent step. It was, for the time, turning his back upon the object to which he had devoted himself. It was necessary for him to gain time, even at the sacrifice of Emily's feelings, for a short season, so that his father and Henry Carroll might reach Bellevue as soon as Emily. He had written them all the details of the plan. His own purpose was to have Emily's strongest friends at hand on her arrival at Bellevue, so as effectually to foil the machinations of Jaspar and Maxwell. His own visit to Baton Rouge was only a feint to avoid a meeting with Maxwell in the interim, thus keeping the appearance in unison with the pretension.

The river had risen some three or four feet, and the large and rapid steamers had commenced running. The "Raven," to the clerk of which he had intrusted the letter for Cottage Island, was a remarkably fast boat, and he had every reason to hope that his plan would be successful.

Three days he remained at Baton Rouge, in a state of impatience and inactivity, rendered doubly uncomfortable by the fear that Maxwell might change his plan in his absence.

A downward steamer was approaching the city, and he hastened on board. His letter had been faithfully delivered, for almost the first person he discovered on board the boat was Henry Carroll, and Dr. Vaudelier was close at hand. This was excellent, and he congratulated himself on the bright prospect before him.

It was arranged that the doctor and his late patient should remain in the vicinity of Bellevue until the following day, when Vernon would convey Emily to her home. They were accordingly landed at the Red Church, and Vernon proceeded to New Orleans.

Maxwell greeted him with a cordiality which showed the interest he felt in the scheme, the consummation of which would realize his dreams of luxurious indulgence. They wended their way, without loss of time, up the street, deciding that Vernon should at once broach the proposition to Emily of going up to Bellevue. The attorney, when they had arrived within a short distance of the office, directed Vernon to proceed alone, agreeing to meet him at a coffee-room in the neighborhood.

On reaching the office, a new difficulty was presented. The inflexible guardian of Emily refused to allow Vernon to see her, stoutly persisting that De Guy would not permit it. Vernon was obliged to resort to Maxwell in this dilemma, who, affirming that he did not wish Emily to know of his presence in town, had kept the secret from the negress. So what could he do? But, bidding Vernon wait, he left the coffee-room, and soon returned with an order signed by De Guy, whom, Maxwell affirmed, he had been so fortunate as to meet at the Exchange.

"But of what use is this paper? The girl cannot read. Shall I take the keys from her?" asked Vernon.

"The note will be sufficient. Show it to her; she will pretend to read it, and would, if it were in Hebrew or Sanscrit," said Maxwell, who then repeated the caution he had before given, not to betray the fact of his presence in the city.

Vernon presented the note to the negress, who, with a business-like air, opened it; and, though he could perceive that she held it up-side down, she examined it long and attentively, sputtering with her thick lips, as though actually engaged in the to her impossible operation of reading it.

"Dis alters de case, Massa. Why you no show dis paper before?" said Dido, with an air of huge importance, which would have done credit to the captain of a country company of militia.

"Open the door, and don't stop to chatter!" replied Vernon.

"Yes, Massa, I have read de letter, and now I knows dat Massa Guy wants you to see de leddy. Dat alters de case. I has nussin furder to say," muttered Dido, as she unlocked the chamber door.

Emily was seated on a sofa, reading a book she had taken with her to while away the time on board of the steamer.

"Missus, a gemman, who hab brought a letter from Massa Guy," said Dido, as she opened the door.

"Bring the letter, then," replied Emily, scarcely raising her eyes from the book.

"No, Missus, de letter am for me, and I hab read it. It orders me to 'mit dis gemman."

"That is sufficient," said Vernon, pushing the attendant back, and closing the door.

Emily rose; and great was her surprise at perceiving the son of her late benefactor. An avalanche of doubt rushed through her mind, and she could not conjecture the occasion of this visit. She had left him at his father's house. Had he forsaken his new-born repentance? Was he again the minister of Maxwell's evil purposes? She had been a prey to the most distressing anticipations, and had now settled down into the calmness of resignation. Resolved to die rather than become the bride of Maxwell, she had spent the hours and days of her imprisonment in nerving herself to meet whatever bitter fate might await her, in maintaining her purity and her principle.

The appearance of Jerome Vaudelier caused her a thrill of apprehension, but it was quickly supplanted by a feeling of interest in the individual himself. Her own gloomy position seemed divested of its sombreness, as she felt that the penitence of the erring soul had not been a reality.

"Jerome Vaudelier, are you, too, the minister of a villain's wishes?"

"Nay, Miss Dumont--"

"Say that you are yet true to yourself; that you have not forgotten those solemn vows you made in the home of your father; say that you are not the tool of the vile Maxwell--say it before you speak your business with me!"

"Miss Dumont, I acknowledge that the present appearance is against me; but I assure you I have come only as the minister of good to you."

"Bless you for the words! I feared you had again been tempted."

"So I have, lady, and apparently have yielded; but it was only to save you. Listen to me, and I will disclose all the details of the plots which are even now ripening to ensnare you,"--and Vernon, in a low tone, briefly narrated everything, and the means which were in operation to secure her safety.

"You must go to Bellevue to-morrow, there to meet my father and Captain Carroll," said he.

The color came to her pale cheek, at the mention of her lover's name. She felt that Vernon meant to be true to her, and true to himself. And it required no persuasion to induce her to acquiesce in the arrangements.

"But, Hatchie--must I leave him in prison? It is not a meet reward for his fidelity."

"It cannot be avoided, Miss Dumont. I will see him to-day, and when his honest heart knows that you are in safety, he will be just as happy in a prison as in a palace. He shall be set at liberty in a few days."

"I hope he may. Does this De Guy accompany you?"

"No; but Maxwell says he will reach Bellevue as soon as we do."

"Why is this? Why does not Maxwell present himself, and urge his infamous proposals?"

"I know not, unless it be that De Guy is the more artful of the two."

* * * * *

Let us change the scene to the next day, at the abode of Mr. Faxon.

Dalhousie and his wife, by the kind attentions of their host, were restored to a comparatively healthy state. The lady had suffered much in her physical and mental constitution, and a shade of deep melancholy rested upon her handsome features. She could not forget the horrors of the dungeon in which she had been confined. It seemed a great epoch in her life; all before it was strange and undefined, while every trivial incident since was a great paragraph in her history.

Mr. Faxon was seated in his library, surrounded by his guests. The affairs of the Dumont family had again been discussed, for to them they were full of interest.

The good minister feelingly expatiated upon the bitterness of the heiress' lot, brought up as she had been amid all the refinements of polished society, whose sensibilities were rendered doubly acute by nature and the circumstances which environed her, to be thus degraded into the condition of a base-born, despised being,--to be so suddenly hurled from honor and opulence,--it was a dreadful blow! So feelingly did he narrate the particulars, so tenderly did he describe the loneliness of her position, that his hearers were deeply affected, and Delia shed a flood of tears.

"I too have been a wanderer, though a voluntary one, from the home of my father," said she.

"Nay, Delia," said Dalhousie, tenderly; "do not revert to your own experience. Remember you are not strong enough to bear much excitement."

"I did not intend to speak of my own experience; but the sufferings of poor Miss Dumont call to my mind the remembrance of similar feelings."

"I presume the company are not desirous of hearing the story of an elopement," said Dalhousie, with a smile.

"Nor I to relate one. The pure devotion of Miss Dumont to the memory of her father recalls the affection, the fond indulgence, of my own father. I have not, as she has, the consciousness of having never wilfully abused his confidence."

"If you have erred, madam," said Mr. Faxon, "your father still lives, does he not? Perhaps it is not yet too late to atone for the fault."

"Alas! I know not whether he is living or not. I wrote to him several times, but never received an answer."

"Who was your father, madam?" said Mr. Faxon, with much sympathy in the tones of his voice.

"I dread even to mention the name I bore in the innocent days of childhood."

"Fie, Delia!" said Dalhousie, with a pleasant laugh, "what have you done to sink yourself so far in your own estimation? You and your father differed as to the propriety of our marriage; to you, as a true woman, your course was plain. This is the height and depth of your monstrous sin."

The conversation was here interrupted by the announcement that a gentleman waited to see Mr. Faxon.

The good clergyman had a habit of promptness in answering all calls upon him. This custom had been acquired by the reflection that a poor dying mortal might wait his blessing, ere he departed on his endless journey; that, sometimes, a moment's delay could never be atoned for; therefore he rose on the instant, and hastened to the parlor, where the visitor waited.

"Ah! is it possible--Captain Carroll!" said he, as he grasped Henry's hand; "I am glad to see you. But how pale and thin you look!"

"Good reason for it, my dear sir. I was on board of the Chalmetta."

"Were you, indeed! Thank God, you escaped with life! Were you much injured?"

"I was, but, thanks to the care of a good physician, I am nearly restored again."

"But our poor lady--Miss Dumont--have you any tidings of her? Report said she was lost in the catastrophe."

"She is safe, though, unfortunately, at present in bad hands;" and Henry related to the astonished minister the events of Emily's history since her departure from Bellevue, not concealing even the details of his present relations with her.

"And now, my dear sir," said he, rising to depart, "the crisis has come. Dr. Vaudelier waits close by, and we are ready to witness the denouement of this climax of plots. It is already time for Jerome and Emily to arrive, and we desire your immediate presence at the mansion-house."

"I will attend you. But I have in the house several friends of Miss Dumont--"

"Bring them all with you," interrupted Henry, looking at his watch. "The more witnesses the better, especially if they be friends."

"But wait till I tell you who they are."

"Excuse me, Mr. Faxon, I must not tarry longer. I will meet them at the mansion."