The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly

“And what was your sentence?”

“Death, – commuted to the galleys for life; worse than any death! It’s not the hardship or the labor, I mean. A sailor goes through more downright hard work on a blowy night than these fellows do in a year. It is the way a man brutalizes when vice and crime make up the whole atmosphere of his life. The devil has a man’s heart all his own, whenever hope deserts it, and you want to do wickedness just because it is wickedness. For three weeks before I made my escape, it was all I could do not to dash the turnkey’s brains out when he made his night round. I told my comrade – the man I was chained to – what I felt; and he said, ‘We all go through that at first; but when you ‘re some years here you ‘ll not care for that or anything.’ I believe it was the terror of coming to that condition made me try to escape. I don’t know that I ever felt the same ecstasy of delight that I felt as I found myself swimming in that fresh cold sea in the silence of a calm starry night. I ‘m sure it will be a memory that will last my lifetime. I thought of you all, – I thought of long ago, of our happy evenings; and I pictured to my mind the way we used to sit around the fire, and I wondered what had become of my place. Was I ever remembered? Was I spoken of? Could it be that at that very moment some one was asking, where was poor Jack? And how I wished you might all know that my last thoughts were upon you; that it was the dear old long ago was before me to the last. I was seventeen hours in the water. When they picked me up I was senseless from a sun-stroke; for the corks floated me long after I gave up swimming. I was so ill when I landed that I went to hospital; but there was little care given to the sick, and I left it when I was able to walk, and came on here. Talk of luck; but I ask you was there ever such a piece of fortune befell a man?”

L’Estrange could not speak as he gazed on the poor fellow, over whose worn and wasted features joy had lighted up a look of delight that imparted an almost angelic elevation to his face.

“But can I go back like this?” asked he, sorrowfully, as he looked down at his ragged clothes and broken shoes.

“I have thought of all that There is nothing to be had here ready but Montenegrin costume, so the landlord tells me, and you will have to figure in something very picturesque.”

“Cannot I get a sailor’s jacket and trousers?”

“Aye, of Dalmatian cut and color; but they ‘ll not become you as well as that green velvet attila and the loose hose of the mountaineer. Try if you can’t take a sleep now; and when you awake you ‘ll find your new rig in that room yonder, where there ‘s a bath ready for you. I ‘ll go down the town, meanwhile, and do a few commissions, and we will set out homewards when you ‘re rested.”

“I wish it was over,” said Jack, with a sigh.

“Wish what was over?”

“I mean I wish the shock was over, – the shock of seeing me such an object as I am. Sickness changes a man quite enough, but there’s worse than that, George. I know what this rough life of mine must have made of me. You won’t say it, old fellow, but I see it in your sad face all the same. I am – say it out, man – I am a most disreputable-looking blackguard!”

“I declare, on my honor, that, except the ravages of illness, I see no change in you, whatever.”

“Look here,” said Jack, as his voice trembled with a peculiar agitation, “I ‘ll see Nelly first. A man’s sister can never be ashamed of him, come what will. If Nelly shows – and she ‘s not one to hide it – that – no matter, I ‘ll not say more about it. I see you ‘re not pleased with me laying stress on such a matter.”

“No, no, you wrong me, Jack; you wrong me altogether. My poor fellow, we never were – we never had such good reason to be proud of you as now. You are a hero, Jack. You’ve done what all Europe will ring with.”

“Don’t talk balderdash; my head is weak enough already. If you ‘re not ashamed of the tatterdemalion that comes back to you, it’s more than I deserve. There, now, go off, and do your business, and don’t be long, for I ‘m growing very impatient to see them. Give me something to smoke till you come back, and I ‘ll try and be calm and reasonable by that time.”

If L’Estrange had really anything to do in the town he forgot all about it, and trotted about from street to street, so full of Jack and his adventures that he walked into apple-stalls and kicked over egg-baskets amid the laughter and amusement of the people.

If he had told no more than the truth in saying that Jack was still like what he had been, there were about him signs of suffering and hardship that gave a most painful significance to his look; and more painful than even these was the poor fellow’s consciousness of his fallen condition. The sudden pauses in speaking, the deep sigh that would escape him, the almost bitter raillery he used when speaking of himself, all showed how acutely he felt his altered state.

L’Estrange was in nowise prepared for the change half an hour had made in Jack’s humor. The handsome dress of Montenegro became him admirably, and the sailor-like freedom of his movements went well with the easy costume. “Isn’t this a most appropriate transformation, George?” he cried out “I came in here looking like a pickpocket, and I go out like a stage bandit.”

“I declare, it becomes you wonderfully. I ‘ll wager the girls will not let you wear any other dress.”

“Ay, but my toilet is not yet completed. See what a gorgeous scarf I have got here – green and gold, and with a gold fringe that will reach to my boots; and the landlord insists on lending me his own silver-mounted sabre. I say, old fellow, have you courage to go through the town with me?”

“You forget you are in the last fashion of the place; if they stare at you now, it will be approvingly.”

“What’s the distance? Are we to walk?”

“Walk or drive, as you like best. On foot we can do it in an hour.”

“On foot be it, then; for though I am very impatient to see them, I have much to ask you about.”

As they issued from the inn, it was, as L’Estrange surmised, to meet a most respectful reception from the townsfolk, who regarded Jack as a mountaineer chief of rank and station. They uncovered and made way for him as he passed; and from the women, especially, came words of flattering admiration at his handsome looks and gallant bearing.

“Are they commenting on the ass in the lion’s skin?” said Jack, in a sly whisper. “Is that what they are muttering to each other?”

“Quite the reverse. It is all in extravagant praise of you. The police are on the alert, too; they think there must be mischief brewing in the mountains, that has brought a great chief down to Cattaro.”

Thus, chatting and laughing, they gained the outskirts of the town, and soon found themselves on one of the rural paths which led up the mountain.

“Don’t think me very stupid, George, or very tiresome,” said Jack, “if I ask you to go over again what you told me this morning. Such strange things have befallen me of late that I can scarcely distinguish between fact and fancy. Now, first of all, have we lost Castello – and who owns it?”

“No. The question is yet to be decided; the trial will take place in about two months.”

“And if we are beaten, does it mean that we are ruined? Does it sweep away Marion and Nelly’s fortunes, too?”

“I fear so. I know little accurately, but I believe the whole estate is involved in the claim.”

“Gusty bears it well, you say?”

“Admirably. I never saw a man behave with such splendid courage.”

“I ‘ll not ask about Nelly, for I could swear for her pluck. She was always the best of us.”

If L’Estrange drank in this praise with ecstasy, he had to turn away his head, lest the sudden flush that covered his face should be observed.

“I have no wish to hear the story of this claim now; you shall tell it to me some other time. But just tell me, was it ever heard of in my father’s time?”

“I believe so. Your father knew of it, but did not deem it serious.”

“Marion, of course, despises it still; and what does Temple say?”

“One scarcely knows. I don’t think they have had a letter from him since they left Ireland.”

“See what a wise fellow I was!” cried he, laughing. “I sank so low in life that any change must be elevation. You are all great folks to me!”

There was a long and painful pause after this – each deep in his own thoughts. At last Jack asked suddenly, “How is Marion? Is she happy in her marriage?”

“We hear next to nothing of her; the newspapers tell us of her being at great houses and in fine company, but we know no more.”

“Of course she ‘s happy, then. When she was a child she would only play with us if we made her a queen; and though we often tried to rebel – we were great levellers in our way – she always kept us down, and whether we liked it or not, we had to admit the sovereignty.”

“Your younger sister” – he did not call her Nelly – “was not of this mould?”

“Not a bit of it; she was the peacemaker, always on the side of the weak; and though she was a delicate child, she ‘d fight against oppression with the passion of a tigress. Wasn’t it strange?” said he, after a pause. “There we were, five of us, treated and reared exactly alike; in early life, certainly, there were no distinctions made, nor any favoritism practised. We were of the same race and blood, and yet no two of us were alike. Temple had, perhaps, some sort of resemblance to Marion, but he had not her bold, daring spirit. Where she was courageous, he ‘d have been crafty. Whatever good there was amongst us, Nelly had it.”

Another and longer pause now succeeded. “I say, George,” cried Jack, at last, “how do you mean to break it to the girls that I ‘m here? I take it, poor Nelly’s nerves must have suffered sorely of late. Is she likely to stand a shock without injury?”

“It is exactly what I ‘m trying to resolve this moment. Flushed with the walk, and cheered by the fresh air, you don’t look sickly now.”

“Ah, my dear fellow, that’s not the worst of it. It is the sight of me as recalling my fallen fortune – that’s what I fear for her; her last good-bye to me was blended with joy at my promotion – I was going to take up my command! She has never seen me since my disgrace.”

“Don’t call it that, Jack; we all know there is no other blame attaches to you than rashness.”

“When rashness can make a man forget his condition, it’s bad enough; but I ‘ll not go back to these things. Tell me how I am to meet her.”

“Perhaps it would be best I should first see Julia, and tell her you are here. I always like to ask her advice.”

“I know that of old,” said Jack, with a faint smile.

“I ‘ll leave you in the summer-house at the end of the garden, there, till I speak with Julia.”

“Not very long, I hope.”

“Not an instant; she never requires a minute to decide on what to do. Follow me, now, along this path, and I ‘ll place you in your ambush. You ‘ll not leave it till I come.”

“What a lovely spot this seems; it beats Castello hollow!”

“So we say every day. We all declare we ‘d like to pass our lives here.”

“Let me be one of the party, and I ‘ll say nothing against the project,” said Jack, as he brushed through a hedge of sweet-brier, and descended a little slope, at the foot of which a shady summer-house stood guardian over a well. “Remember, now,” cried he, “not to tax my patience too far. I ‘ll give you ten minutes, but I won’t wait twenty.”

L’Estrange lost no time in hastening back to the house. Julia, he heard, was giving orders about the room for the stranger, and he found her actively engaged in the preparation. “For whom am I taking all this trouble, George?” said she, as he entered.

“Guess, Julia, guess! Whom would you say was best worth it?”

“Not Mr. Cutbill – whom Nelly fixed on – not Sir Marcus Cluff, whose name occurred to myself, nor even the Pretender, Count Pracontal; and now I believe I have exhausted the category of possible guests.”

“Not any of these,” said he, drawing her to his side. “Where is Nelly?”

“She went down to gather some roses.”

“Not in the lower garden, I hope,” cried he, eagerly.

“Wherever she could find the best – but why not there? and what do you mean by all this mystery?”

“Go and fetch her here at once,” cried he. “If she should see him suddenly, the shock might do her great harm.”

“See whom? see whom?” exclaimed she, wildly. “Don’t torture me this way!”

“Jack, her brother, – Jack Bramleigh,” and he proceeded to tell how he had found him, and in what condition; but she heard nothing of it all, for she had sunk down on a seat, and sat sobbing, with her hands over her face; then, suddenly wiping the tears away, she rose up, and, while her voice trembled with each word, she said, “Is he changed, George? is he greatly changed?”

“Changed! yes, for he has been ill, and gone through all manner of hardships, and now he is dressed like a Montenegro chief, for we could get no other clothes, so that you’ll scarcely know him.”

“Let us find Nelly at once,” said she, moving towards the door. “Come, George, – come,” and she was down the stairs, and across the hall, and out at the door, before he could follow her. In her agitated manner, and rapid expression, it was evident she was endeavoring to subdue the deep emotion of her heart, and, by seeming to be occupied, to suppress the signs of that blended joy and sorrow which rack the nature more fatally than downright misery.

“See, George, look there!” cried she, wildly, as she pointed down a straight alley, at the top of which they were standing. “There they are. Nelly has her arm round him. They have met, and it is all over;” and so saying, she hid her face on her brother’s shoulder, and sobbed heavily. Meanwhile, the two came slowly forward, too much engaged with each other to notice those in front of them.

CHAPTER LVIII. THE VILLA LIFE

It is not at this the eleventh hour of my story, I can stop to dwell on the life of the villa at Cattaro, though I am free to own it was about the sunniest bit of landscape our long journey has offered us.

Seated, or lying on the grass, under the shade of a broad-leaved fig-tree, they listened to Jack’s adventures, told with a quaint humor, of which they, who knew him well, could appreciate every shade and tint In his days of prosperous fortune it was rare to hear him speak of himself. The routine life he led seemed to develop little or nothing of his real nature; but now, dependent as he was altogether on intrinsic qualities, for whatever estimation he might obtain, owing nothing to station, it was remarkable how his character had widened and expanded, how his sympathies with his fellow-men had increased. Though nothing could be farther from his nature than any mawkish sentimentality, there was that show of trustfulness, that degree of hopeful belief in the world at large, which occasionally led Julia to banter him on his optimism; and this, be it said passingly, was the only show of freedom between them, – their manner to each other from the moment they met being marked by a studied reserve on each side.

“And surely, Prince,” said she, calling him by the title which in honor of his dress they had given him, “surely you must have met some charming creatures at the galleys. All the good qualities of human nature were not reserved for the cockpit or the steerage, or whatever it is.”

“Aye, even at the galleys they were n’t all bad, though it’s not exactly the sort of place men grow better in. I had a capital old fellow as comrade, and, I take shame to say, I ought to have thought of him before this. I say, George, have you any friends of influence at Naples? I wish I could get my old companion his liberty.”

“George has gone in to write to Augustus,” said Nelly; “but if Lord Culduff could answer your purpose, I ‘d ask Marion to interest him in the matter.”

“There’s a dear good girl, do write a line to Marion; tell her it’s the greatest favor she could bestow on me. The poor fellow is a political criminal; he only shot at the king, I believe; and where they do that every week or so, it’s hard to make it a capital offence. I ‘ll give you his name and his number when I go into the house.”

“The post leaves early,” said she, rising. “I must do this at once.”

“Wait till I have finished this corner of my netting, and I’ll go with you,” said Julia.

“I say No to that,” cried Jack. “I ‘m not going to be left alone here. If that’s the way you treat a distinguished guest, the sooner he takes his leave the better. Stay where you are, Miss Julia.”

“But I shall have no work, Master Jack. My net will be finished in a few minutes.”

“Make cigarettes for me, then. There ‘s the bag,” said he, lazily.

“I declare, our Bohemianism progresses famously,” said she, half tartly. “What do you think of this proposal, Nelly?” The question came late, however; for Nelly was already on her way to the house.

“Don’t go, that’s a good girl. Don’t leave me here to my own thoughts, – they ‘re not over jolly, I promise you, when I’m all alone.”

“Why, it’s your good spirits that amaze me,” replied she. “I don’t remember seeing you so cheerful or so merry long ago, as you are now.”

“You mean that I wasn’t so happy when I had more reason to be so? But what if I were to tell you out of what a sad heart this joy comes; how every day I say to myself, ‘This is to be the last of it!’ Not,” said he, in a bolder voice, “that I want to think about myself; this terrible disaster that has befallen my family is infinitely worse than anything that can attach to me. Even yet I cannot bring myself to believe this great smash.” She made no answer, and he went on: “I can’t make out if Nelly herself believes it. You all wear such cheerful faces, it ‘s not easy to understand in what spirit you take this reverse.”

“I think that your return has recompensed Nelly for everything.”

“She was always the best of us; it’s no great praise, that same; but I mean – but it’s no matter what I mean, for you are laughing at me, already.”

“No, indeed, I was not. If I smiled, it was in thinking how little all your casualties have changed you.”

“For that matter, I suspect we may compliment or condemn each other, whichever it be, on equal terms.”

“So at last I have got you to say a civil thing to me. You tell me I am the same delightful, fascinating creature you knew me long ago.”

“I said nothing about fascination,” said he, sternly.

“Not directly, of course. Your tact and delicacy were proof against such indiscretion; but you know you meant it.”

“I ‘ll tell you what I know: I know that I never saw a girl, except yourself, who liked to pain – aye, to torture – those who cared for her; who would infinitely rather indulge her mood of mockery than – than – ”

“Pray, finish. It’s not every day I have the fortune to hear such candor. Tell me what it is that I postpone to my love of sarcasm?”

“I ‘ve done. I ‘ve been very rude to you, and I ask your pardon. I was not very polished in my best of days, and I take it my late schooling has not done much to improve me. When I was coming here I swore an oath to myself that, no matter what you ‘d say to me, I ‘d not lose temper, nor make a resentful answer to anything; and now I see I ‘ve forgotten all my good intentions, and the best thing I can do is to ask you to forgive me, and go my ways.”

“I ‘m not offended,” said she, calmly, without raising her eyes. “I suppose if the balance were struck between us, I did more to provoke you than you did to wound me.”

“What is this I hear about being provoked and wounded?” cried Nelly, coming up to where they sat.

“Your brother and I have been quarrelling, that’s all. We thought it the pleasantest way to pass the time till you came back; and we have succeeded to perfection.”

“I declare, Julia, this is too bad,” cried Nelly.

“But why ‘Julia’? Why am I singled out as the culprit? Is he so above reproach that he could not be in the wrong?”

“I know I was in the wrong, and I ‘ve said so; but now let Nelly be judge between us. Here is the way it began – ”

“The way what began, pray?” asked Julia.

“There, now, that’s the way she pushes me to lose my temper; and when she sees I ‘m angry she grows all the calmer.”

“She’s downright disagreeable,” said Julia; “and I don’t know why a frank, outspoken sailor condescends to speak to her.”

“Well, he ‘s pretty sure to get the worst of it,” muttered he.

“Poor Jack,” said Nelly, caressingly. “And for all that he likes the ill-treatment better than all the flatteries he meets elsewhere.”

“That shrug of the shoulders does not say so,” said Julia, laughing. “Come,” cried she, with a merry voice, “let us do something more worthy of this delicious morning. Let us have a walk up the mountain; we can have shade all the way.”

“What’s that little dome, – there, above the trees?” asked Jack.

“That’s the campanile of our little chapel. I ‘ll fetch the key, and we ‘ll go and visit it. We ‘ve not been to see it yet.”

“But George would like to come with us;” and so saying, Julia hastened away to find him.

“Oh, Nelly, I love her better than ever, and she scorns me even more,” said he, as he hid his head on his sister’s shoulder.

“My poor dear Jack; how little you know her! You never sorrowed over your last parting as she did. We have had all of us great reverses. They, as well as ourselves; and that spirit of Julia’s – there is another name for it than mockery – has carried her through her troubles better than a more pretentious philosophy.”

“But she is not even friendly with me, Nelly. None of you make me feel what I have sunk to as she does.”

“There, again, you are unjust – ”

“Right or wrong, I’ll bear it no longer. I only wait now till Gusty comes back. I want to shake his hand once more, and then, girl, you have seen the last of me.”

Before Nelly could reply, Julia and her brother had joined them.

“Here ‘s news,” said George, showing a letter, – “Augustus will be with us to-morrow; he only writes a few lines to say, – ‘I have nothing particularly cheering to report, and it will all bear keeping. I mean to be at home on Wednesday next. I am all impatience to see Jack; the thought of meeting him more than repays me my reverses here. Give him my love. – A. Bramleigh.’”

“We shall have plenty to do to prepare for his arrival,” said Julia. “We must postpone our visit to the chapel. Would this illustrious prince condescend to help us to move tables and chests of drawers?”

Jack threw a very significant glance towards Nelly, as though to say, “She is at the old game.”

“Well, sir? I wait your answer,” said Julia.

“For twenty-four hours I am at your orders,” said Jack.

“And then under what commander do you serve?”

“Captain Fortune, I suspect,” said he, gravely. “A gentleman, or lady, perhaps, that has shown me no especial fondness up to this.”

“Jack says he is going to leave us,” said Nelly, as her eyes filled up.

“But why?” cried George.

“But why?” echoed Julia.

“Haven’t I given proof enough,” said Jack, with a faint laugh, “that I’m not what Miss Julia there calls a very logical animal; that when I get a wayward fancy in my head I follow it faithfully as if it was a strong conviction. Well, now, one of these moments has come to me; and thinking, besides, that this pleasant sort of life here is not exactly the best preparation for a rougher kind of existence, I have made up my mind to slip my cable after I ‘ve seen Gusty.”

“Well, then, let us profit by the short time left us,” said Julia, quietly. “Come and help me in the house. I shall want you, too, George.”

“You must do without me, Julia. I have only just discovered a letter in my pocket, with the seal unbroken, that I ought to have answered at least a fortnight ago. It is from Sir Marcus Cluff,” said he, in a whisper, “making me an offer of the vicarage at Hoxton.”

“What a kind fellow!”

“Who’s a kind fellow?” asked Jack.

“A certain gentleman, who made me the flattering proposal to become his wife and nurse, and who now offers to make George his chaplain.”

“It rains good luck here,” said Jack, with a half bitter smile. “Why won’t it drift a little in my direction? By the way, Nelly, what about the letter I asked you to write to Marion?”

“It is written. I only want to fill in the name of the person. You told me to keep a blank for it.”