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Convict

<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4> It is the most difficult thing in the world to convey to the mind of a reader the idea of extended space by a rapid sketch. You may say days passed, and weeks; but the reader does not believe a word of it. He takes up the narrative where it left off; an abstract proposition is put before him, and he does not pursue it to any of its consequences. He does not consider for one moment, unless it be clearly explained to him, how those days and those weeks, with all the events which they brought to pass, had wrought upon the characters, the circumstances, and the relative positions of the personages before him. In a mere sketch with the pencil you can do better: by lighter lines and finer touches you make distant objects recede; by bolder strokes and stronger delineations you bring forward the near and the distinct. Nevertheless, I must endeavour to pass over several days rapidly, curtailing every unnecessary description, rejecting every needless detail, and yet dwelling so far upon the several events as to mark to the reader's mind that time was passing, and bearing on its rapid and buoyant flood a multitude of small objects, marking to each individual the progress of time towards eternity. Day after day was spent at Brandon House in the usual occupations of a country mansion. There were walks, and rides, and drives, and shooting parties; and the fact most important for Charles Dudley was, that he was frequently alone for more than an hour together with Eda Brandon. All was explained, all was promised, all was understood. In less than two months she would be of age, her hand and her property at her own disposal; and Dudley felt angry at himself, from a sensation of regret which he experienced, that he did not still possess the ancient estates of his house, that he might unite himself to her for ever, as pride termed it, upon equal terms. Those were very, very happy interviews; sometimes over the green lawns or shady groves of the park, sometimes alone in the library or the drawing-room, sometimes sitting side by side near the river, or in the deep wood, and talking with a melancholy pleasure over the past, or looking forward with a cheerful hope unto the future. They wondered sometimes that these communications were so little interrupted, and that nobody observed or attempted to interfere; but Sir Arthur Adelon was frequently absent on business as he said; Lord Hadley was seized with a passion for roaming about the country, which he had never displayed before; and a sort of irritable gloom had fallen upon Edgar Adelon, the cause of which he explained to no one, but which was easily seen by the eyes of his cousin. He often sought solitude, shut himself up in his own room, walked, when he went forth, in a different direction from the rest of the party, and seemed involved in thought, even when Eda and himself, and Dudley, were together without witnesses. Nevertheless, he was the person who most frequently cut short the interviews of the two lovers, or deprived them of opportunity when the golden fruit was at their lips. He seemed to have conceived a peculiar and extraordinary affection for Lord Hadley's tutor; and there was that confident reliance and unreserved frankness in the friendship he displayed with which Dudley could not help feeling gratified, and which he could not make up his mind to check, even for the sake of a few more happy moments with Eda Brandon. By fits and starts the young man would come and ask him to join him in his walks; would seek his society and his conversation; and would sometimes express his regard, nay, even his admiration, with a warmth and a candour which seemed to Dudley, ignorant of all cause for such sensations in his heart, as savouring too much of childish simplicity for one who was standing at the verge of manhood. His conversation, however, was very interesting, full of wild flights of fancy, rich and imaginative in terms, and overflowing with the deep stream of the heart. He insisted upon it that his companion should call him Edgar, and said that he would always use the name of Dudley; and many a counsel would he ask of him, and listen to his advice with that profound and deep attention which showed that, from some cause or other, reverence had been joined with affection. This extraordinary interest sometimes puzzled Dudley. He would ask himself could Edgar have perceived the mutual affection of Eda and himself, and could his regard for his fair cousin have taught him to love whomsoever she loved? But there was no appearance of such perception when they were together: not by a word, not by a smile, not by a quiet jest, did he ever show a knowledge of their affection; and Dudley at length concluded that it was one of those boyish friendships which, suddenly conceived, and nourished, by long after-intercourse, often form the basis of lasting regard which only terminates with life. Another person, who seemed to have been much struck with Dudley, and who also occupied a good deal of his time, was Mr. Filmer; but to say the truth, Dudley himself was less pleased with his society than with that of Edgar Adelon. It was always smooth, easy, agreeable. There was not the slightest appearance of effort in his conversation; nothing strained, nothing at all peculiar in his demeanour. He was learned, witty, imaginative; mingling quiet cheerfulness and unobtrusive gaiety with occasional strains of thought so deep and so intense, yet so pellucid and bright, that the hearer was carried away with wonder and delight. He was fond of talking of religious subjects, and with all the many associated with them by his church. He had a love for, and an intimate acquaintance with, ancient architecture in all its branches; and he combined therewith fancies, hypotheses, or theories, as the reader may have it, which gave a sort of mystical signification to every part and portion of an old building, and spread, as it were, a religious feeling through the conception and the execution of the whole. Every church, or abbey, or cathedral, which had been raised in pure catholic times, was in his eyes but a symbol of the spiritual church--a hierarchy, as it were, in stone. He loved sacred music, too. There was not a chant, a canon, an anthem, a mass, or a dirge, that he did not know, and could descant upon eloquently, or sit down and play it with exquisite taste, if no great execution, joining occasionally a powerful and melodious voice in snatches of rich song, without the slightest appearance of vanity or display, but merely as if to give the hearer an idea of the composition which he had mentioned. All this was very charming, but still there was something which made Charles Dudley prefer the frank, free, fearless conversation of Edgar Adelon. He knew not well what that something was; he could not term it a studiedness, but it was all too definite, too circumscribed by rules, too much tied down to purposes and views which allowed no expansion but in peculiar directions. Although there was no affectation, there seemed to be an object in everything he said. There was, in short, a predominant idea to which everything was referrible, and which deprived his conversation of that wide and natural range, that free and liberal course, which is one of the greatest charms of friendly intercourse. One felt that, in a very different sense from that in which the beautiful words were originally used--'he was in the world, but not of the world.' A time came rapidly when much was explained that was at first dark; but we must turn to another of our characters, whose fate was intimately interwoven with that of Charles Dudley. Lord Hadley, as I have said, was frequently absent from Brandon House; and when he was present, there was something in his manner which showed a change of thought or feeling. He attempted to flirt with Eda Brandon--a difficult matter at any time, but more difficult still in the circumstances which existed, and especially when it was done with an effort. His manner towards Dudley, too, was very different. He sought his society but little; was captious in his conversation with him, and somewhat petulant in his replies. He seemed not well pleased when that gentleman was with Eda; and marked his feelings so plainly, that Dudley was sometimes inclined to fear that his pupil had conceived an attachment to the object of his own affection. But then, again, twice when they were sauntering in the park before the house, Lord Hadley made an excuse to leave him and Miss Brandon together, and walked away in the direction of the Grange, remaining absent for two or three hours. In the mean time, rumours spread, and the newspapers announced that there were threatening signs in the manufacturing districts; that great meetings of artisans were taking place in public and in private; that the people determined to have what they called 'a holiday;' and that some great attempt at popular insurrection was contemplated by those immense masses, which, congregated within a very narrow space, have the means of rapid communication ever open, and whose amount of intelligence is sufficient to make them feel the ills they suffer, and the wrongs they are subject to, without showing them the best means of relieving the one or casting off the other. The prompt and decided measures of government, too, were detailed in the public prints; the march of different regiments was mentioned; and some portions were displayed of the general plan for suppressing any outbreak, which had been formed by the great master of strategy, sufficient to prove to any person not infatuated by false hopes, that the movements of the people would be effectually checked as soon as ever they transgressed the bounds of law. To most of the little party assembled at Brandon, these reports came like the roar of the stormy ocean to persons calmly seated by the domestic hearth. They were far removed from the scene of probable strife; they had full confidence in the power and the wisdom of government. There were no manufactories for many miles around; and the nearest point at which there was any great congregation of artisans lay at some twenty or thirty miles' distance, where there were both mines and potteries. Nevertheless, Eda observed that her uncle read with the deepest attention everything that referred to the discontent of the manufacturing population. She saw, too, that he was uneasy; that there was a restlessness and an impatience about him which she could not account for; and she pointed it out to Dudley, who remarked it also. "I have not seen him in this state for years," she said; "and I cannot help thinking that something of great importance must be weighing upon his mind." "I have heard," replied Dudley, "that at one time he took a very warm, I might almost say vehement, interest in political matters, and went through a contested election in the north, as the advocate of the most extreme pretensions of the people. I have cause to remember that period, dearest Eda, for with that election commenced the ruin of my poor father. He had represented the town for many years in parliament, when your uncle started against him upon principles almost republican. As they had been friends from boyhood, although the contest was carried on very fiercely by their several supporters, it was conducted with courtesy and kindness by themselves--as much courtesy and kindness, indeed, as could exist under such circumstances between men of the most opposite political principles. My father was returned, but some of the electors thought fit to petition against him, accusing his agents of the most extensive bribery and corruption. As the population was large and very equally divided in opinion, the expenses of the election itself had been enormous. Innumerable witnesses were brought before the committee on both sides; the investigation lasted for months; the most eminent barristers were retained by enormous fees; and though it ended in my father retaining his seat, an outlay of nearly thirty thousand pounds was incurred by the contest and the petition. To meet this expense, he proposed to mortgage the estates; when your worthy uncle, feeling, perhaps, that his supporters had not treated my father very well, offered to take the proposed mortgage at a low rate of interest. It was necessary, however, that the title deeds should be closely examined, and they were submitted to the inspection of his lawyer, a scoundrel of the name of Sherborne. This man, who was as keen and acute as he was unprincipled, discovered a flaw in the title; and instead of merely advising your uncle not to take the mortgage, he communicated the fact to another party, and a long law-suit was the consequence, which ended in our being stripped of the property which my grandfather had purchased and paid for. My father was now loaded with a very large debt besides, which he had no means of paying, and his spirits and his health sunk and gave way at once. In these circumstances, Sir Arthur Adelon acted with a degree of kindness which I can never forget. He purchased a very small property which had descended to me from my mother, at more than its real value, and did not even wait till I was of age to make the transfer before he paid the money. I had thus the means of comforting and soothing my father during an enforced absence from England, and the long period of sickness which preceded his death; and the moment I was of age I assigned the property to your uncle. Though I had never seen him myself, I wrote to thank him, at my father's death; but he did not answer my letter, and, what is somewhat strange, he has never adverted to the subject since I have been here, perhaps thinking rightly, that it must be a very painful one to me. I have been led into a long story," he continued, "when I only wished to explain to you that Sir Arthur is known to feel very intensely upon the subject of the people's rights and claims. That he sympathises deeply with these poor men in the manufacturing districts, there can be no doubt; and I rather think you will find that the anxiety and uneasiness he displays are to be attributed to the interest he feels in them." Eda mused, but did not reply. She was deeply attached to her uncle, who for many years had acted as a father towards her; but yet she might know his character better than Dudley, and might entertain reasonable doubts as to his being moved by the feelings which that gentleman ascribed to him. She did not express those doubts, however, and the conversation took another turn. The fifth day of Dudley's stay at Brandon was a Sunday, and it commenced with a tremendous storm of wind and rain. The nearest village church was, as I have shown, at some distance; and Sir Arthur Adelon, though he courteously proposed to order the carriage to carry any of the party, who might desire it, to the morning's service, added some remarks upon the state of the weather and the likelihood of the servants getting very wet, which prevented any one from accepting his offer. A room had been fitted up at Brandon, and decorated as a chapel; and at the usual hour, Mr. Filmer appeared, to officiate in the celebration of mass. Eda Brandon was not present; for, as she informed Dudley, she had promised her mother, before her death, never to be present at the services of the Roman Catholic church. Lord Hadley and his tutor, however, with less rigid notions, accompanied Sir Arthur and a number of his servants to the chapel; and somewhat to Dudley's surprise, Mr. Clive and his daughter also appeared soon after, notwithstanding the tempest that was raging without. Dudley felt a reverence for religion in all its forms; the worship of God was to him always the worship of God; and though he did not affect to adore in a wafer the real presence of his Saviour, he behaved with gravity and decorum through the whole ceremony. Lord Hadley, on the contrary, treated the whole matter somewhat lightly; paid little attention to the offices of the church; and kept his eyes fixed, during a great part of the service, upon Helen Clive, with a look which was not altogether pleasing to his tutor. Nor did it seem so to Edgar Adelon either; for when he glanced towards Lord Hadley for a moment, his colour became suddenly heightened, and his eyes flashed fire, giving to Dudley, for the first time, a key to what was passing in his bosom. After mass was concluded, Sir Arthur took Clive familiarly by the arm, and walking with him into the library, begged him not to think of returning to the Grange with Helen till the storm had passed. Mr. Clive declined to stay, however, saying that he did not feel the weather himself, and that, as he had come up in his own little sociable, Helen would be under cover as she went back. The day passed as other days had done; but during the afternoon Mr. Filmer paid particular attention to Dudley, and was altogether more cheerful and entertaining than he had been for some time, as if the services of his religion formed a real pleasure to him, the effect of which remained for several hours after they were over. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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