"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 const.i.tution, 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 circ.u.mstances 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 G.o.d, 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."
CHAPTER x.x.x.
"What devil"s here, dragging the dead to life, To overthrow me?"
"Who art thou?
Speak! speak!"
"The features all are changed, But the voice grows familiar on my ears."
LOVELL
Jaspar Dumont was seated in the library. The ravages of care and vice were growing more plainly visible on his face. His countenance was haggard, and his complexion seemed to be a struggle between the wanness of care and the redness of intemperance.
Near him sat De Guy, who had but just arrived.
"The lady has come," said the attorney, adjusting his green spectacles; "and I am here to claim the fulfilment of our contract."
Jaspar looked up from the floor, upon which his eyes had been fastened, and gazed with a fixed stare upon his companion.
"You do not understand me," insinuated De Guy.
"I do," said Jaspar, sternly; "I do; you have come to plunder me."
"You do me injustice, my kind friend; I come to save you from the doom of a felon."
"To put your foot upon my neck, and leap out of the pit your villany has dug!"
"Very well, my dear sir, if you are of this mind, my course is plain.
Did you not agree to this arrangement?" said De Guy, with a smile, which was meant to soften the hard question.