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CHAPTER I. — THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE SEA.
CHAPTER I. — THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE SEA.
On the morning of July 21, 1840, the Daily News announced the arrival of the ship Rival at Sydney, New South Wales. As ocean steam navigation had not yet extended so far, the advent of this ship with the English mail created the usual excitement. An eager crowd beset the post-office, waiting for the delivery of the mail; and little knots at the street corners were busily discussing the latest hints at news which had been gathered from papers brought ashore by the officers or passengers. At the l
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CHAPTER II. — A LIFE TRAGEDY.
CHAPTER II. — A LIFE TRAGEDY.
Not a word or a gesture escaped Brandon during the perusal, but after he had finished he read the whole through twice, then laying it down, he paced up and down the room. His olive skin had become of a sickly tawny hue, his eyes glowed with intense lustre, and his brow was covered with those gloomy Napoleonic clouds, but not a nerve was shaken by the shock of this dread intelligence. Evening came and night; and the night passed, and morning came, but it found him still there pacing the room. Ear
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CHAPTER III. — “A MAN OVERBOARD!”
CHAPTER III. — “A MAN OVERBOARD!”
In so small a town as Sydney then was Brandon could hope to learn all that could be learned about Cigole. By casual inquiries he learned that the Italian had come out in the Rival , and had given out that he was agent for a London house in the wool business. He had bought up a considerable quantity which he was preparing to ship. Brandon could not help feeling that there was some ruse about this. Yet he thought, on the other hand, why should he flaunt his name so boldly before the world? If he i
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CHAPTER IV. — SINKING IN DEEP WATERS.
CHAPTER IV. — SINKING IN DEEP WATERS.
Brandon, overwhelmed by the rush of waters, half suffocated, and struggling in the rush of the waves, shrieked out a few despairing cries for help, and sought to keep his head above water as best he could. But his cries were borne off by the fierce winds, and the ship as it careered madly before the blast was soon out of hearing. He was a first-rate swimmer, but in a sea like this it needed all his strength and all his skill to save himself from impending death. Encumbered by his clothes it was
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CHAPTER V. — THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND.
CHAPTER V. — THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND.
When Brandon awaked on the following morning the sun was already high in the sky. He rose at once and walked slowly up, with stiffened limbs, to a higher spot. His clothes already were partly dry, but they were uncomfortable and impeded his motion. He took off nearly every thing, and laid them out on the sand. Then he examined his pistol and the box containing cartridges. This box held some oil also, with the help of which the pistol was soon in good order. As the cartridges were encased in copp
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CHAPTER VI. — THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN SHIP.
CHAPTER VI. — THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN SHIP.
After a moment of horror Brandon walked away for a short distance, and then turning he looked fixedly at the wreck for a long time. Could this be indeed the ship— the Vishnu ? By what marvelous coincidence had he thus fallen upon it? It was in 1828 that the Vishnu sailed from Calcutta for Manilla. Was it possible for this vessel to be preserved so long? And if so, how did it get here? Yet why not? As to its preservation that was no matter in itself for wonder. East Indian vessels are sometimes b
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CHAPTER VII. — MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE.
CHAPTER VII. — MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE.
“BRIG ‘VISHNU,’ ADRIFT IN THE CHINESE SEA. “July 10, 1828. “Whoever finds this let him know that I, Lionel Despard, Colonel of H. M. 37th Regiment, have been the victim of a foul conspiracy performed against me by the captain and crew of the brig Vishnu , and especially by my servant, John Potts. “Expecting at any time to perish, adrift helplessly, at the mercy of winds and waves, I sit down now before I die, to write all the circumstances of this affair. I will inclose the manuscript in a bottl
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CHAPTER VIII. — THE SIGNAL OF FIRE.
CHAPTER VIII. — THE SIGNAL OF FIRE.
The wreck broke in upon the monotony of Brandon’s island life and changed the current of his thoughts. The revelations contained in Despard’s manuscript came with perfect novelty to his mind. Potts, his enemy, now stood before him in darker colors, the foulest of miscreants, one who had descended to an association with Thuggee, one who bore on his arm the dread mark of Bowhani. Against such an enemy as this he would have to be wary. If this enemy suspected his existence could he not readily find
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CHAPTER IX. — THE MALAY PIRATE
CHAPTER IX. — THE MALAY PIRATE
Two days had passed since Brandon’s rescue. The light wind which had brought up the Falcon soon died out, and before the island had been left far behind a calm succeeded, and there was nothing left but to drift. A calm in other seas is stillness; here on the Indian Ocean it is stagnation. The calmness is like Egyptian darkness. It may be felt. The stagnation of the waters seems deep enough to destroy all life there. The air is thick, oppressive, feverish; there is not a breath or a murmur of win
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CHAPTER X. — BEATRICE.
CHAPTER X. — BEATRICE.
It was natural that a young girl who had gone through so fearful an ordeal should for some time feel its effects. Her situation excited the warmest sympathy of all on board the ship; and her appearance was such as might inspire a chivalrous respect in the hearts of those rough but kindly and sensitive sailors who had taken part in her rescue. Her whole appearance marked her as one of no common order. There was about her an air of aristocratic grace which inspired involuntary respect; an elegance
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CHAPTER XI. — THE IMPROVISATORE.
CHAPTER XI. — THE IMPROVISATORE.
The character of Beatrice unfolded more and more every day, and every new development excited the wonder of Brandon. She said once that music was to her like the breath of life, and indeed it seemed to be; for now, since Brandon had witnessed her powers, he noticed how all her thoughts took a coloring from this. What most surprised him was her profound acquirements in the more difficult branches of the art. It was not merely the case of a great natural gift of voice. Her whole soul seemed imbued
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CHAPTER XII. — THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
CHAPTER XII. — THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
At length the ship came within the latitude of the Guinea coast. For some days there had been alternate winds and calms, and the weather was so fitful and so fickle that no one could tell in one hour what would happen in the next. All this was at last terminated by a dead, dense, oppressive calm like those of the Indian Ocean, in which exertion was almost impossible and breathing difficult. The sky, however, instead of being clear and bright, as in former calms, was now overspread with menacing
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CHAPTER XIII. — THE BADINAGE OF OLD FRIENDS.
CHAPTER XIII. — THE BADINAGE OF OLD FRIENDS.
The town of Holby is on the coast of Pembroke. It has a small harbour, with a light-house, and the town itself contains a few thousand people, most of them belonging to the poorer class. The chief house in the town stands on a rising ground a little outside, looking toward the water. Its size and situation render it the most conspicuous object in the neighborhood. This house, from its appearance, must have been built more than a century before. It belonged to an old family which had become extin
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CHAPTER XIV. — TWO LETTERS.
CHAPTER XIV. — TWO LETTERS.
Despard did not go back to the Grange for some days. About a week had passed since the scenes narrated in the preceding chapter when one morning, having finished his breakfast, he went into his library and sat down at the table to write. A litter of papers lay all around. The walls were covered with shelves, filled with books. The table was piled high with ponderous tomes. Manuscripts were strewn around, and books were scattered on the floor. Yet, amidst all this disorder, some order was apparen
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CHAPTER XV. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
CHAPTER XV. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
Liverpool, June 2, 1840.—I promised you, my Teresina, to keep a diary of all my wanderings, and now I begin, not knowing whether it will be worth reading or not, but knowing this: that my corellina will read it all with equal interest, whether it be trivial or important. I have taken passage in the ship Tecumseh from Liverpool to Quebec. I have embarked in her for no better reason than this, that she is the first that will sail, and I am impatient. The first New York ship does not leave for a fo
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CHAPTER XVI. — HUSBAND AND WIFE.
CHAPTER XVI. — HUSBAND AND WIFE.
“It is now the middle of February,” said Despard, after a long pause, in which he had given himself up to the strange reflections which the diary was calculated to excite. “If Louis Brandon left Australia when he was called he must be in England now.” “You are calm,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Have you nothing more to say than that?” Despard looked at her earnestly. “Do you ask me such a question? It is a story so full of anguish that the heart might break out of pure sympathy, but what words could be
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CHAPTER XVII. — THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN FOREST.
CHAPTER XVII. — THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN FOREST.
Let us return to the castaways. It was morning on the coast of Africa—Africa the mysterious, the inhospitable Africa, leonum arida nutrix . There was a little harbor into which flowed a shallow, sluggish river, while on each side rose high hills. In front of the harbor was an island which concealed and protected it. Here the palm-trees grew. The sides rose steeply, the summit was lofty, and the towering palms afforded a deep, dense shade. The grass was fine and short, and being protected from th
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CHAPTER XVIII. — INQUIRIES.
CHAPTER XVIII. — INQUIRIES.
So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the village which bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. He had been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had passed from a transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard and mustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of the face like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundness of outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight, thin Grecian ty
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CHAPTER XIX. — THE DEAD ALIVE.
CHAPTER XIX. — THE DEAD ALIVE.
It was early in the month of August when Brandon visited the quarantine station at Gosse Island, Quebec. A low, wooden building stood near the landing, with a sign over the door containing only the word “OFFICE.” To this building Brandon directed his steps. On entering he saw only one clerk there. “Are you the superintendent?” he asked, bowing courteously. “No,” said the clerk. “He is in Quebec just now.” “Perhaps you can give me the information that I want.” “What is it?” “I have been sent to i
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CHAPTER XX. — FRANK’S STORY.
CHAPTER XX. — FRANK’S STORY.
“After you left,” said Frank, “all went to confusion. Potts lorded it with a higher hand than ever, and my father was more than ever infatuated, and seemed to feel that it was necessary to justify his harshness toward you by publicly exhibiting a greater confidence in Potts. Like a thoroughly vulgar and base nature, this man could not be content with having the power, but loved to exhibit that power to us. Life to me for years became one long death; a hundred times I would have turned upon the s
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CHAPTER XXI. — THE DIVING BUSINESS.
CHAPTER XXI. — THE DIVING BUSINESS.
In a little street that runs from Broadway, not far from Wall Street, there was a low doorway with dingy panes of glass, over which was a sign which bore the following letters, somewhat faded: BROCKET & CO., CONTRACTORS About a month after his arrival at New York Brandon entered this place and walked up to the desk, where a stout, thick-set man was sitting, with his chin on his hands and his elbows on the desk before him. “Mr. Brocket?” said Brandon, inquiringly. “Yes, Sir,” answered the
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CHAPTER XXII. — THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ.
CHAPTER XXII. — THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ.
It was July when Brandon left New York for San Salvador. He had purchased a beautiful little schooner, which he had fitted up like a gentleman’s yacht, and stored with all the articles which might be needed. In cruising about the Bahama Isles he intended to let it be supposed that he was traveling for pleasure. True, the month of July was not the time of the year which pleasure-seekers would choose for sailing in the West Indies, but of this he did not take much thought. The way to the Bahama Is
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CHAPTER XXIII. — THE OCEAN DEPTHS.
CHAPTER XXIII. — THE OCEAN DEPTHS.
The next morning dawned and Brandon hurried to the rock and looked around. During the night a slight wind had sprung up, and was still gently breathing. Far over the wide sea there was not a sail to be seen. The brig had passed away. They were finally left to themselves. Now at last the time of trial had come. They were eager to make the attempt, and soon the yacht was unmoored, and moved slowly out to sea in the direction of Needle Island. A light breeze still blew fitfully, but promised at any
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CHAPTER XXIV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL
CHAPTER XXIV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL
BRANDON HALL September 1, 1848.—Paolo Langhetti used to say that it was useful to keep a diary; not one from day to day, for each day’s events are generally trivial, and therefore not worthy of record; but rather a statement in full of more important events in one’s life, which may be turned to in later years. I wish I had begun this sixteen months ago, when I first came here. How full would have been my melancholy record by this time! Where shall I begin? Of course, with my arrival here, for th
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CHAPTER XXV. — THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS.
CHAPTER XXV. — THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS.
More than a year had passed since that visit to Thornton Grange which has already been mentioned. Despard had not forgotten or neglected the melancholy case of the Brandon family. He had written in all directions, and had gone on frequent visits. On his return from one of these he went to the Grange. Mrs. Thornton was sitting in the drawing-room, looking pensively out of the window, when she saw his well-known figure advancing up the avenue. His face was sad, and pervaded by a melancholy express
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CHAPTER XXVI. — CLASPED HANDS.
CHAPTER XXVI. — CLASPED HANDS.
Their singing went on. They used to meet once a week and sing in the church at the organ. Despard always went up to the Grange and accompanied her to the church. Yet he scarcely ever went at any other time. A stronger connection and a deeper familiarity arose between them, which yet was accompanied by a profound reverence on Despard’s part, that never diminished, but as the familiarity increased only grew more tender and more devoted. There were many things about their music which he had to say
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CHAPTER XXVII. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
CHAPTER XXVII. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
When Mrs. Thornton saw Despard next she showed him a short note which she had just received from her brother, accompanying his journal. Nearly two years had elapsed since she had last heard from him. His journal was written as before at long intervals, and was as follows: Halifax, April 10, 1847.—I exist here, but nothing more. Nothing is offered by this small colonial town that can afford interest. Life goes on monotonously. The officers and their families are what they are every where. They ar
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CHAPTER XXVIII. — THIS MUST END.
CHAPTER XXVIII. — THIS MUST END.
The note which accompanied Langhetti’s journal was as follows: “HALIFAX, December 18, 1848. “TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,—I send you my journal, sorella carissima . I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been sad and in affliction. But affliction has turned to joy, and I have learned things unknown before. “ Teresina mia , I am coming back to England immediately. You may expect to see me at any time during the next three months. She will be with me; but so sensitive is she—so strang
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CHAPTER XXIX. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL.
CHAPTER XXIX. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL.
October 30, 1848.—My recovery has been slow, and I am still far from well. I stay in my room almost altogether. Why should I do otherwise? Day succeeds day, and each day is a blank. My window looks on the sea, and I can sit there and feed my heart on the memories which that sea calls up. It is company for me in my solitude. It is music, though I can not hear its voice. Oh, how I should rejoice if I could get down by its margin and touch its waters! Oh how I should rejoice if those waters would f
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CHAPTER XXX. — SMITHERS & CO.
CHAPTER XXX. — SMITHERS & CO.
The Brandon Bank, John Potts, President, had one day risen suddenly before the eyes of the astonished county and filled all men with curious speculations. John Potts had been detestable, but now, as a Bank President, he began to be respectable, to say the least. Wealth has a charm about it which fascinates all men, even those of the oldest families, and now that this parvenu showed that he could easily employ his superfluous cash in a banking company, people began to look upon his name as still
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CHAPTER XXXI. — PAOLO LANGHETTI.
CHAPTER XXXI. — PAOLO LANGHETTI.
Many weeks passed on, and music still formed the chief occupation in life for Despard and Mrs. Thornton. His journey to Brandon village had been without result. He knew not what to do. The inquiries which he made every where turned out useless. Finally Thornton informed him that it was utterly hopeless, at a period so long after the event, to attempt to do any thing whatever. Enough had been done long ago. Now nothing more could possibly be effected. Baffled, but not daunted, Despard fell back f
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CHAPTER XXXII. — FLIGHT.
CHAPTER XXXII. — FLIGHT.
The last entry in Beatrice’s journal was made by her in the hope that it might be the last. In her life at Brandon Hall her soul had grown stronger and more resolute. Besides, it had now come to this, that henceforth she must either stay and accept the punishment which they might contrive or fly instantly. For she had dared them to their faces; she had told them of their crimes; she had threatened punishment. She had said that she was the avenger of Despard. If she had desired instant death she
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CHAPTER XXXIII. — “PICKED UP ADRIFT.”
CHAPTER XXXIII. — “PICKED UP ADRIFT.”
On the morning following two travelers left a small inn which lay on the road-side, about ten miles north of Brandon. It was about eight o’clock when they took their departure, driving in their own carriage at a moderate pace along the road. “Look, Langhetti,” said the one who was driving, pointing with his whip to an object in the road directly in front of them. Langhetti raised his head, which had been bowed down in deep abstraction, to look in the direction indicated. A figure was approaching
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CHAPTER XXXIV. — ON THE TRACK.
CHAPTER XXXIV. — ON THE TRACK.
Beatrice’s disappearance was known at Brandon Hall on the following day. The servants first made the discovery. They found her absent from her room, and no one had seen her about the house. It was an unusual thing for her to be out of the house early in the day, and of late for many months she had scarcely ever left her room, so that now her absence at once excited suspicion. The news was communicated from one to another among the servants. Afraid of Potts, they did not dare to tell him, but fir
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CHAPTER XXXV. — BEATRICE’S RECOVERY.
CHAPTER XXXV. — BEATRICE’S RECOVERY.
It was not easy for the overtasked and overworn powers of Beatrice to rally. Weeks passed before she opened her eyes to a recognition of the world around her. It was March when she sank down by the road-side. It was June when she began to recover from the shock of the terrible excitement through which she had passed. Loving hearts sympathized with her, tender hands cared for her, vigilant eyes watched her, and all that love and care could do were unremittingly exerted for her benefit. As Beatric
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CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS & CO.
CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS & CO.
For more than a year the vast operations of Smithers & Co. had astonished business circles in London. Formerly they had been considered as an eminently respectable house, and as doing a safe business; but of late all this had been changed in so sudden and wonderful a manner that no one could account for it. Leaving aside their old, cautious policy, they undertook without hesitation the largest enterprises. Foreign railroads, national loans, vast joint-stock companies, these were the thin
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CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE “PROMETHEUS.”
CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE “PROMETHEUS.”
It took some time for Langhetti to make his preparations in London. September came before he had completed them. To his surprise these arrangements were much easier than he had supposed. People came to him of their own accord before he thought it possible that they could have heard of his project. What most surprised him was a call from the manager of Covent Garden Theatre, who offered to put it into his hands for a price so low as to surprise Langhetti more than any thing else that had occurred
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CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE SECRET.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE SECRET.
The triumph of Beatrice continued. The daily papers were filled with accounts of the new singer. She had come suddenly before them, and had at one bound reached the highest eminence. She had eclipsed all the popular favorites. Her sublime strains, her glorious enthusiasm, her marvelous voice, her perfect beauty, all kindled the popular heart. The people forgave her for not having an Italian name, since she had one which was so aristocratic. Her whole appearance showed that she was something very
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CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CAB.
CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CAB.
That evening Beatrice’s performance had been greeted with louder applause than usual, and, what was more gratifying to one like her, the effective passages had been listened to with a stillness which spoke more loudly than the loudest applause of the deep interest of the audience. Langhetti had almost always driven home with her, but on this occasion he had excused himself on account of some business in the theatre which required his attention. On going out Beatrice could not find the cabman who
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CHAPTER XL. — DISCOVERIES.
CHAPTER XL. — DISCOVERIES.
The next morning after Beatrice’s last performance Langhetti determined to fulfill his promise and tell her that secret which she had been so anxious to know. On entering into his parlor he saw a letter lying on the table addressed to him. It bore no postage stamp, or post-office mark. He opened it and read the following: “London, September 5,1849. “SIGNORE,—Cigole, the betrayer and intended assassin of your late father, is now in London. You can find out about him by inquiring of Giovanni Caval
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CHAPTER XLI. — THEY MEET AGAIN.
CHAPTER XLI. — THEY MEET AGAIN.
At four o’clock on the morning of Beatrice’s capture Brandon was roused by a rap at his bedroom door. He rose at once, and slipping on his dressing-gown, opened it. A man entered. “Well?” said Brandon. “Something has happened.” “What?” “She didn’t get home last night. The landlady is sitting up for her, and is terribly frightened.” “Did you make any inquiries?” “No, Sir; I came straight here in obedience to your directions.” “Is that all you know?” “All.” “Very well,” said Brandon, calmly, “you
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CHAPTER XLII. — LANGHETTI’S ATTEMPT.
CHAPTER XLII. — LANGHETTI’S ATTEMPT.
Two days after Brandon’s visit to Potts, Langhetti reached the village. A searching examination in London had led him to believe that Beatrice might now be sought for at Brandon Hall. The police could do nothing for him. He had no right to her. If she was of age, she was her own mistress, and must make application herself for her safety and deliverance; if she was under age, then she must show that she was treated with cruelty. None of these things could be done, and Langhetti despaired of accom
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CHAPTER XLIII. — THE STRANGER.
CHAPTER XLIII. — THE STRANGER.
A few weeks after Langhetti’s visit Potts had a new visitor at the bank. The stranger entered the bank parlor noiselessly, and stood quietly waiting for Potts to be disengaged. That worthy was making some entries in a small memorandum-book. Turning his head, he saw the newcomer. Potts looked surprised, and the stranger said, in a peculiar voice, somewhat gruff and hesitating, “Mr. Potts?” “Yes,” said Potts, looking hard at his visitor. He was a man of singular aspect. His hair was long, parted i
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CHAPTER XLIV. — THE STRANGER’S STORY.
CHAPTER XLIV. — THE STRANGER’S STORY.
That evening a number of people were in the principal parlor of the Brandon Inn. It was a cool evening in October; and there was a fire near which the partner of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. had seated himself. Clark had come in at the first of the evening and had been there ever since, talking volubly and laughing boisterously. The others were more or less talkative, but none of them rivaled Clark. They were nearly all Brandon people; and in their treatment of Clark there was a certain res
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CHAPTER XLV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL CONCLUDED.
CHAPTER XLV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL CONCLUDED.
September 7, 1849.—{This part begins with a long account of her escape, her fortunes at Holby and London, and her recapture, which is here omitted, as it would be to a large extent a repetition of what has already been stated.}—After Brandon left me my heart still throbbed with the fierce impulse which he had imparted to it. For the remainder of the day I was upheld by a sort of consciousness of his presence. I felt as though he had only left me in person and had surrounded me in some way with h
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CHAPTER XLVI. — THE LAST ESCAPE.
CHAPTER XLVI. — THE LAST ESCAPE.
The hour which Beatrice had mentioned in her diary was awaited by herewith feverish impatience. She had confidence in Asgeelo, and this confidence was heightened by the fact that Mrs. Compton was going to accompany her. The very timidity of this poor old creature would have prevented her from thinking of escape on any ordinary occasion; but now the latter showed no fear. She evinced a strange exultation. She showed Philips’s letter to Beatrice, and made her read it over and over again. It contai
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CHAPTER XLVII. — ROUSED AT LAST.
CHAPTER XLVII. — ROUSED AT LAST.
About this time Despard received a call from Langhetti. “I am going away,” said the latter, after the preliminary greetings. “I am well enough now to resume my search after Beatrice.” “Beatrice?” “Yes.” “What can you do?” “I haven’t an idea; but I mean to try to do something.” Langhetti certainly did not look like a man who was capable of doing very much, especially against one like Potts. Thin, pale, fragile, and emaciated, his slender form seemed ready to yield to the pressure of the first fat
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CHAPTER XLVIII. — WHO IS HE?
CHAPTER XLVIII. — WHO IS HE?
On the morning after the last escape of Beatrice, Clark went up to Brandon Hall. It was about nine o’clock. A sullen frown was on his face, which was pervaded by an expression of savage malignity. A deeply preoccupied look, as though he were altogether absorbed in his own thoughts, prevented him from noticing the half-smiles which the servants cast at one another. Asgeelo opened the door. That valuable servant was at his post as usual. Clark brushed past him with a growl and entered the dining-r
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CHAPTER XLIX. — THE RUN ON THE BANK.
CHAPTER XLIX. — THE RUN ON THE BANK.
Not long after the bank opened a number of people came in who asked for gold in return for some bank-notes which they offered. This was an unusual circumstance. The people also were strangers. Potts wondered what it could mean. There was no help for it, however. The gold was paid out, and Potts and his friends began to feel somewhat alarmed at the thought which now presented itself for the first time that their very large circulation of notes might be returned upon them. He communicated this fea
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CHAPTER L. — THE BANK DIRECTORS.
CHAPTER L. — THE BANK DIRECTORS.
The bank doors were closed, and the bank directors were left to their own refections. Clark had been in through the day, and at the critical moment his feelings had overpowered him so much that he felt compelled to go over to the inn to get something to drink, wherewith he might refresh himself and keep up his spirits. Potts and John remained in the bank parlor. The clerks had gone. Potts was in that state of dejection in which even liquor was not desirable. John showed his usual nonchalance. “W
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CHAPTER LI. — A STRUGGLE.
CHAPTER LI. — A STRUGGLE.
All the irresolution which for a time had characterized Despard had vanished before the shock of that great discovery which his father’s manuscript had revealed to him. One purpose now lay clearly and vividly before him, one which to so loyal and devoted a nature as his was the holiest duty, and that was vengeance on his father’s murderers. In this purpose he took refuge from his own grief; he cast aside his own longings, his anguish, his despair. Langhetti wished to search after his “Bice;” Des
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CHAPTER LII. — FACE TO FACE.
CHAPTER LII. — FACE TO FACE.
On the same evening Potts left the bank at about five o’clock, and went up to the Hall with John. He was morose, gloomy, and abstracted. The great question now before him was how to deal with Smithers & Co. Should he write to them, or go and see them, or what? How could he satisfy their claims, which he knew would now be presented? Involved in thoughts like these, he entered the Hall, and, followed by John, went to the dining-room, where father and son sat down to refresh themselves over
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CHAPTER LIII. — THE COTTAGE.
CHAPTER LIII. — THE COTTAGE.
When Despard had bound Clark he returned to look after Langhetti. He lay feebly and motionless upon the ground. Despard carefully examined his wounds. His injuries were very severe. His arms were lacerated, and his shoulder torn; blood also was issuing from a wound on the side of his neck. Despard bound these as best he could, and then sat wondering what could be done next. He judged that he might be four or five miles from Denton, and saw that this was the place to which he must go. Besides, Be
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CHAPTER LIV. — THE WORM TURNS.
CHAPTER LIV. — THE WORM TURNS.
Potts departed from the Hall in deep dejection. The tremendous power of his enemy had been shown all along; and now that this enemy turned out to be Louis Brandon, he felt as though some supernatural being had taken up arms against him. Against that being a struggle seemed as hopeless as it would be against Fate. It was with some such feeling as this that he left Brandon Hall forever. All of his grand projects had broken down, suddenly and utterly. He had not a ray of hope left of ever regaining
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CHAPTER LV. — ON THE ROAD.
CHAPTER LV. — ON THE ROAD.
On the following morning Brandon started from the Hall at an early hour. He was on horseback. He rode down through the gates. Passing through the village he went by the inn and took the road to Denton. He had not gone far before another horseman followed him. The latter rode at a rapid pace. Brandon did not pay any especial attention to him, and at length the latter overtook him. It was when they were nearly abreast that Brandon recognized the other. It was Vijal. “Good-morning,” said Vijal. “Go
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CHAPTER LVI. — FATHER AND SON.
CHAPTER LVI. — FATHER AND SON.
Vijal, on going back to Brandon village, went first to the inn where he saw John. To the inquiries which were eagerly addressed to him he answered nothing, but simply said that he wished to see Potts. John, finding him impracticable, cursed him and led the way to the bank. As Vijal entered Potts locked the door carefully, and then anxiously questioned him. Vijal gave a plain account of every thing exactly as it had happened, but with some important alterations and omissions. In the first place,
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CHAPTER LVII. — MRS. COMPTON’S SECRET.
CHAPTER LVII. — MRS. COMPTON’S SECRET.
On the night after the arrival of John, Brandon had left Denton. He did not return till the following day. On arriving at the inn he saw an unusual spectacle—the old man on the balcony, the crowd of villagers around, the universal excitement. On entering the inn he found some one who for some time had been waiting to see him. It was Philips. Philips had come early in the morning, and had been over to the cottage. He had learned all about the affair at the inn, and narrated it to Brandon, who lis
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CHAPTER LVIII. — THE MALAY’S VENGEANCE.
CHAPTER LVIII. — THE MALAY’S VENGEANCE.
Some hours afterward Despard called Brandon outside the cottage, and walked along the bank which overhung the beach. Arriving at a point several hundred yards distant from the cottage he stopped. Brandon noticed a deeper gloom upon his face and a sterner purpose on his resolute mouth. “I have called you aside,” said Despard, “to say that I am going on a journey. I may be back immediately. If I do not return, will you say to any one who may ask”—and here he paused for a moment—“say to any one who
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CHAPTER LIX. — {Greek: Deute teleutaion aspasmon domen.}
CHAPTER LIX. — {Greek: Deute teleutaion aspasmon domen.}
The excitement which had prevailed through the village of Denton was intensified by the arrival there of the body of the old man. For his mysterious death no one could account except one person. That one was Brandon, whom Despard surprised by his speedy return, and to whom he narrated the circumstances of the discovery. Brandon knew who it was that could wield that cord, what arm it was that had held that weapon, and what heart it was that was animated by sufficient vengeance to strike these blo
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CHAPTER LX. — CONCLUSION.
CHAPTER LX. — CONCLUSION.
A month passed. Despard gave no sign. A short note which he wrote to Brandon announced his arrival at London, and informed him that important affairs required his departure abroad. The cottage was but a small place, and Brandon determined to have Langhetti conveyed to the Hall. An ambulance was obtained from Exeter, and on this Langhetti and Edith were taken away. On arriving at Brandon Hall Beatrice found her diary in its place of concealment, the memory of old sorrows which could never be forg
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