CHAPTER CXIII.

ESTHER DE MEDINA AND OLD DEATH.

It was on the third day after the explanations given to Dr. Lascelles, and between five and six o’clock in the evening, that Esther de Medina was conducted by the Blackamoor into the subterranean passage, the latter holding a lamp in his hand.

“Shall I remain near you, Esther?” he enquired, in a whisper.

“No--it is not necessary,” she answered. “I am not afraid of being in this place, gloomy as it appears; and since I am merely to address the miserable man through the trap-door of his dungeon, no harm can reach me.”

Thus speaking, she turned and received the light from her companion,--her manner being calm and even resolute, though her countenance was very pale.

“God bless you, Esther!” said the Black, emphatically: “your willingness to aid me in this important matter is not the least admirable trait in your character!”

“It is a duty--though a painful one,” responded the beautiful Jewess. “And now leave me--I would rather proceed alone to the prisoner’s cell.”

“Remember,” said the Blackamoor, “it is the last on the right hand side of this long subterranean passage.”

He then retraced his way up the stone-staircase communicating with the house in Red Lion Street, while Esther advanced along the gloomy cavern, in which the lamp shone but with feeble lustre.

In less than a minute she reached the door of Old Death’s dungeon: and there she paused for nearly another minute, a sensation of loathing and horror preventing her from immediately announcing her presence to the terrible inmate of that cell. For the Black, in order to prepare her as fully and completely as possible for her philanthropic mission, had been compelled to reveal to her all the details of those dreadful designs which Benjamin Bones had cherished against herself and Lady Hatfield, and which had been made known through the medium of John Jeffreys. It was therefore natural that Esther de Medina should shrink from the bare idea of holding the slightest communication with a miscreant of so ferocious a character: but a short--a very short interval of reflection was soon sufficient to arm her with the courage necessary to support the ordeal.

Drawing back the sliding-panel which covered the small aperture in the upper part of the massive door, she said in her soft, musical voice, “Prisoner, will you grant me your attention for a few minutes?”

“Who are you?” demanded Old Death, starting as if from a lethargic state--a movement that was indicated by the sudden rustling of his garments and the creaking of the bed whereon he was placed.

“I am Esther de Medina,” was the answer; and the beautiful Jewess allowed the lamp to cast its light upon her countenance, which was so close to the aperture that Old Death caught a momentary but perfect view of her features.

She then placed the lamp upon the ground, thus again leaving the interior of the cell in complete darkness.

“Yes--it is Miss Esther de Medina!” exclaimed Benjamin Bones, in a voice which he endeavoured to render as mild and conciliatory as possible. “Dear young lady, open the door, and let me out of this horrible place. I am sure you possess a good heart----”

“A heart good enough to forgive you for the dreadful atrocity which you contemplated against me upwards of two months ago,” interrupted Esther, scarcely able to subdue a shuddering sensation which came over her. “Yes--I know every thing,” she continued: “you would have entrapped me into your power--you would have deprived me of the blessing of sight,--and yet I never, never injured you.”

“But you say that you forgive me!” cried Old Death, impatiently. “Open the door, then, my sweet young lady--and I will find means to reward you well. Listen,” he exclaimed, approaching the trap, and speaking in a confidential kind of hollow, murmuring whisper,--“don’t be offended at what I am going to say--but I know that you are fond of jewellery--and it is natural for such a beautiful creature as you are----”

“Silence, sir!” interrupted Esther, indignantly. “I am well aware to what you allude; and it is time to undeceive you on that head,” she added, in a proud tone: “indeed, there is no longer any necessity for concealment in that respect! In my turn I desire you to listen--and listen attentively. You entertain a belief so prejudicial to my character, that I cannot allow even such an one as _you_ to cherish it another minute. Know, then, that I have a sister so like myself in outward appearance----”

“By Satan! it must be so,” ejaculated Old Death, a light breaking in upon his mind as in a single moment he took a rapid survey of all the circumstances which had originally led him to suppose that Esther was the thief of Mr. Gordon’s diamonds and the mistress of Tom Rain. “Yes--yes--I understand it all now!” he added, in a tone that appeared to imply vexation at his former blindness in respect to these matters.

“With pain and sorrow am I thus compelled to allude to a sister who is so dear--so very dear to me,” resumed Esther: “but this explanation was necessary--not only for my own sake, but likewise to convince you of the folly and wickedness of endeavouring to induce _me_, by the promise of reward or bribe, to draw back the bolts of your prison-door. No--my visit to you is inspired by the earnest desire to move your soul to the contemplation of all the dreadful deeds which have marked your life----”

“Then you will not set me free?” exclaimed Old Death, in a tone of subdued rage and latent ferocity.

“Not now--not now,” repeated Esther. “But listen to me attentively!”

“Go on,” growled the inmate of the dungeon, as he retreated from the door, and threw himself upon his bed again.

“If you entertain the slightest hope that you will ever be allowed an opportunity to re-enter on a course of wickedness and crime, you are sadly mistaken,” continued Esther, speaking in a conciliatory and yet energetic tone. “Even were you liberated this moment, measures would be adopted to render you completely powerless for the future in respect to the perpetration of fresh enormities. Reflect, then, whether it will not be better for you to devote the remainder of your days--and in the ordinary course of nature they must necessarily be few--to the important duty of making your peace with heaven! Do not despair of pardon--oh! no--do not despair! You see that I, who am a mortal being, can forgive you for the wrongs you meditated against me,--and surely the mercy of heaven is greater than that of human creatures! Yes--repent ere it be too late; and God will not cast you off eternally. _His_ mercy is infinite: _His_ pardon is never asked in vain by the penitent sinner.”

“Continue to speak to me thus,” cried Old Death, in a tone strangely subdued and wondrously meek, considering the ferocious excitement which so lately animated him.

“Oh! I sincerely hope that you will recognise the error of your ways, ere it be indeed too late!” exclaimed Esther, in a tone of enthusiasm deeply felt by her generous soul. “Consider your advanced age--and think how soon the hand of Death may be laid upon you! Then how wretched--how awful would your feelings be,--and how would you shudder at the idea of being about to stand in the presence of that Almighty Power whose laws and mandates you have so often violated! For, after all, what have you gained by your long, long career of wickedness? All your treasures were annihilated in one hour----”

“Yes--yes,” interrupted Old Death, in a voice half suffocated with emotions which the Jewess fondly believed to be those of remorse.

“The hoardings of many years and the produce of innumerable misdeeds were thus swept away,” she continued, impressively; “and Providence at length decreed that you should become a prisoner in the very place where you had so long ruled as a master. Does not heaven, then, afford you solemn and significant warnings that your career of crime is no more to be pursued with success?--and do not those warnings move your heart to repentance and remorse? Neglect not such warnings as these, I conjure you!”

“Your words do me good, young lady!” exclaimed Old Death. “I am glad that you have come thus to speak to me.”

“And shall you ponder upon what I have said?” she demanded.

“Yes. But you will not leave me yet?--and you will come again?” he said, in a voice indicative of suspense and anxiety relative to the answer that was to be given.

“I will return to-morrow,” observed Esther.

“Thank you!” exclaimed Old Death, his tone now denoting a profound emotion.

But Esther did not immediately leave the vicinity of the cell on the present occasion. Believing that she had succeeded in making some salutary impression upon him, she was desirous of following up the promising commencement of her mission; and she accordingly continued to reason with him for nearly half-an-hour longer. In the course of the observations and arguments which she addressed to the ancient sinner, she displayed a sound judgment and a deep but enlightened religious feeling: there was nothing bigoted--nothing fanatical in her language. She indulged in no quotations from the Old Testament--the book that formed the basis of her own nation’s creed: but she expatiated on the goodness of the Creator--the hope that exists for penitent sinners--the terrors of a death-bed without previous repentance--and the folly, as well as the wickedness, of the course already pursued by the prisoner. Old Death interrupted her but seldom; and when he did interject an observation, it was in a tone and of a nature calculated to inspire the charming Jewess with the hope that her mission had not been undertaken in vain.

At length she quitted the vicinity of the cell, having reiterated her promise to return on the following day.

And this pledge was faithfully kept;--and again do we find the Hebrew maiden persevering in her humane--her noble task of awakening proper feelings in the breast of a terrible sinner. To her question whether he had meditated upon his spiritual condition, Old Death replied earnestly and eagerly in the affirmative; and throughout this second visit, he not only sought to retain the young lady near him--or rather at his door--as long as possible, but likewise seemed sincere in his endeavours to inspire her with the belief that her reasoning and her representations had not been thrown away upon him.

On the third day, Esther fancied that there was even a still more striking change in his language when he responded to her questions or her remarks; and not once, during the hour that she remained standing outside his dungeon, addressing him in a style of fervid eloquence which came from her very heart,--not once, we say, did he give the least sign of that ferocity and savage impatience which characterised his behaviour on the first occasion of her visit.

For a fortnight did the Hebrew maiden continue her visits regularly, without however venturing to enter the dungeon. On the fifteenth day she found the prisoner anxiously expecting her arrival as usual; and almost immediately after she had drawn aside the panel and announced her presence, he said, “Oh! dear young lady, I am so glad you are come! I have been thinking so much--so very much over all you have lately told me; and I have felt comforted by repeating to myself the arguments you advance urging me to repentance. Ah! Miss, I have been a dreadful sinner--a dreadful sinner; and I see that I am righteously punished. But though I am penitent, you have no confidence in me yet--and that gives me pain. Yon are afraid to trust yourself with me! Do you think that I would harm you?”

“I hope not,” replied Esther; “and you shall not much longer have to accuse me of want of confidence in you. I am pleased to observe that you at length _feel_ how shocking it is to become an object of mistrust and suspicion.”

“You are an angel, young lady!” exclaimed Benjamin Bones, approaching the door on the outer side of which stood the Hebrew maiden. “No one on earth save yourself could have made such an impression upon my mind, and in so short a time. But will you promise me one thing?”

“Name your request,” said Esther.

“That you will not send any man to converse with me,” answered Old Death. “You are of the gentle sex--and that is why your sweet voice has had such power and influence with me. Had that gentleman--whoever he is--continued to visit me, he would have done no good. I suspect my own sex:--I do not think that men can be so sincere--so conscientious----”

“The gentleman to whom you allude will not visit you again without your consent,” interrupted Esther. “I have undertaken this mission, and will fulfil it to the utmost of my ability. I have now something important to communicate,--important indeed, I should imagine, to one who has been so long in darkness. In a word, I intend to give you a lamp----”

“Oh! excellent young lady!” cried Benjamin Bones, in a voice expressive of the most unfeigned joy. “Make haste and open the door--give me the light----”

“Nay--I must not manifest too much confidence, in you all at once. See what it is to have been so long the votary of crime and wickedness--you inspire a mistrust which cannot be dissipated in a moment.”

“What can I do to convince you of my penitence--my gratitude?” demanded Old Death, in an earnest--anxious tone.

“Leave me to judge for myself relative to your state of mind,” said Esther. “You perceive that I already begin to entertain hopes concerning you: the proof is that I now give you a lamp--and a book also, if you have a sincere inclination to examine its pages.”

As she uttered these words, Esther unfastened the grating which covered the aperture, and passed the lamp through to Old Death--then the volume to which she had alluded.

The light flashed upon his countenance as he received the lamp; and it struck Esther that there was something hideous even in the expression of joy which now animated those repulsive features:--but she knew that looks which had grown sinister and become stamped with ferocious menace during the lapse of many, many years, could not be changed nor improved in a moment, however great were the moral reformation that had taken place within.

“Thanks, dear young lady--a thousand thanks!” exclaimed Old Death, as he placed the lamp upon the table: then, after a few minutes’ pause, during which he looked into the book, he said in a tone of surprise, “But you have brought me a Bible containing the New as well as the Old Testament--and yet yourself only believe in the latter?”

“I respect the religion of the Christian, although I have been taught to put no faith in it,” answered Esther de Medina, in a modest and subdued tone. “But I must now depart: and to-morrow I shall visit you again.”

Esther withdrew, in the firm belief that a most salutary impression had been made upon the mind of one of the greatest criminals of modern times. Her report was received with the most heart-felt joy by the Blackamoor; and he was enthusiastic in his expressions of gratitude towards the beautiful maiden for her exertions in what may unaffectedly be denominated “a good cause.”

“Do you return to Finchley Manor with me this evening?” she asked, cutting short his compliments with a good-humoured smile.

“No--I have particular business to attend to, Esther,” he replied. “But you may tell a certain young lady,” he added, now smiling in his turn, “that I shall be sure to see her to-morrow evening.”

“To-morrow!” repeated Esther. “You forget----”

“Ah! I did indeed forget,” interrupted the Black. “To-morrow is the day on which Arthur returns to town; and I must not risk a visit to the Manor. The fortnight of his absence has soon expired, methinks: but doubtless in that time he has made all the necessary preparation to render his country seat in Kent fitting and comfortable to receive his bride,” observed the Black, smiling again. “Nay--do not blush, Esther: he is a noble fellow, and well deserving of all your love! And, by the bye, this absence on his part has proved most serviceable in one sense,” he continued, again assuming a serious tone: “for had he remained in town, you never would have been able to devote the time you have given each day to the reformation of that wretched man below.”

“To speak candidly,” observed Esther, “I foresee a considerable difficulty relative to my future visits to the unhappy prisoner: but I feared to mention my embarrassment in this respect--I fancied that you might suppose me to be wearied of the task I had undertaken----”

“I know you too well to entertain such an injurious suspicion,” interrupted the Black, hastily and emphatically. “But it is natural, now that Arthur and yourself are so shortly to be united, that he should seek your society as often and for as long a period each day as circumstances will permit----”

“Yes,” observed Esther, with a modest blush: “and though his welfare is so deeply interested in our present enterprise--though, in a word, so many grave and important interests depend upon the success of our endeavours to humanize and reform that wretched prisoner, and disarm him for the future--still I could not stoop to any falsehood or subterfuge to account to the Earl of Ellingham for my daily absence from home for several hours. It is true that my father is in the secret of our proceedings--that he even approved of the course which you suggested, and which I have adopted----”

“Stay! an idea strikes me!” suddenly ejaculated the Black. “You told me ere now that Benjamin Bones implored you to continue your visits to him, and not allow me to take your place; and from this circumstance we have both drawn favourable auguries relative to his ultimate and complete repentance. He already looks upon you as his guardian angel--the means of his salvation; and it would be perhaps productive of evil results--it might even lead to a moral reaction on his part--were he to believe that you had deserted him. You have so well prepared the way in the grand work of reformation with regard to this man, that _another_ might now undertake _your_ duties--and Benjamin Bones would still continue to believe that it is the same Esther de Medina who visits him.”

“I understand you,” said the Hebrew maiden, evidently rejoiced at a suggestion which relieved her mind from the fear of a serious difficulty. “But would _you_ be satisfied with such an arrangement?”

“I see no alternative,” replied the Black. “Arthur will call daily at Finchley Manor--and your frequent absence would, to say the least of it, appear strange.”

“Oh! wherefore not allow Arthur at once to be made acquainted with the whole truth?” demanded Esther, in an earnest and appealing manner.

“No--no--that may not be!” exclaimed the Blackamoor. “My projects must first be carried out to the very end: for it would be my pride and my triumph, when all danger shall have passed away, to say to him, ‘_Arthur, you were surrounded by perils which you did not suspect: demons were plotting every kind of atrocity against your peace;--and I have annihilated all their schemes, and tamed the schemers themselves!_’ Urge me not therefore, my dear Esther, to deviate from the course which I have chalked out for myself, and which I consider to be to some extent an atonement for the misdeeds of my own life. Yes--for he who accomplishes a great good, assuredly expiates a great amount of evil.”

“For heaven’s sake, recur not to the past!” murmured the beautiful Jewess, turning pale and shuddering at the crowd of unpleasant--nay awful reminiscences which her companion’s language recalled to her mind.

“No--let us deliberate only for the present,” exclaimed the Black; “and the more I think of the plan which I have suggested, the more suitable does it appear. Yes,” he continued, “this is the only alternative. Let _your_ visits to Benjamin Bones cease, Esther--and yet let him still continue to believe that he is not neglected nor deserted by Miss de Medina. I need say no more: the rest lies with you.”

“I understand you,” returned the Hebrew maiden; “and it shall be as you desire.”

She then took her departure.