CHAPTER XLV.
THE RIVALS.
“The hand of Douglass is his own! And never shall in friendly grasp, The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”—_Scott._
A boat was pushed up on the sands, and a party consisting of Julius Luxmore and two gentlemen landed, and advanced up the avenue toward the spot where Etoile and Willful remained awaiting them. Mr. Luxmore started and frowned at beholding a strange youth standing by the side of his jealously-guarded ward; but in a moment he regained his composure and concealed his annoyance. Meeting the young pair, he bowed to both at once; then greeted his young charge by name and presented to her, in turn, the Reverend Doctor Goode and Mr. Attorney Bonde.
The maiden, who had remained standing pale and firm, awaiting this rencounter, responded to these introductions only by cold bows.
Then Mr. Luxmore said, in a low and courteous voice, free from any sign of the vexation he really felt, and speaking as though recalling his ward to a sense of propriety—
“Present your guest, my dear Etoile.”
But before the young lady could comply, Willful Brande stepped forward somewhat boldly, and said—
“It appears that you have forgotten your old captain’s son, Mr. Luxmore?”
Luxmore started and changed color; but instantaneously recovering his presence of mind, he exclaimed—
“Truly, my young friend, I had not at first recognized you; but, then, so many years have elapsed since we met. How are you, Mr. Brande?” and offered his hand.
But Willful drew his tall form up to its fullest height, folded his arms, and fixed a glance full of scorn steadily upon the face of the recreant.
“Why will you not take my offered hand, Willful?” inquired Luxmore, forcing a smile.
“NO, SIR! I take the hand of no traitor.”
“What do you mean by that, sir?” exclaimed Luxmore, growing white about the lips.
“Shall I explain, sir? I am quite ready to do so,” retorted Willful, scornfully.
“Oh, I do not doubt that you would force a quarrel upon me here, in the presence of a lady and a clergyman; but _I_ have more respect for such company; another time, sir! another time!” replied the detected villain, seizing the sole pretext that presented itself for the postponement of the exposure.
“As you will,” said Willful Brande, his lip curling.
“Gentlemen, move forward to the house, if you please. Etoile, my dear, take my arm. Good-afternoon, Mr. Brande,” said Luxmore, with the air of dismissing Willful.
But Etoile shrank from the traitor’s offered arm, and merging the bashfulness of the girl in the dignity of the lady hostess, she went around to her guest, and with a stately courtesy said—
“Mr. Brande, will it please you to return to the house?”
Willful started, bowed, and smiled acceptance of her invitation. He then, with an air of deep respect, offered his arm. But Etoile, with her nice sense of propriety, with a gracious smile and shake of the head, declined the proffered assistance, and walked on singly.
Mr. Luxmore came to her side, and in a low, stern voice, inaudible to other ears, inquired:
“Miss L’Orient, what is the meaning of this conduct?”
“It means, Mr. Luxmore, that before this affair proceeds further, you and myself must have a serious conversation,” replied the young girl, in no degree daunted by the frowns of the unmasked perjurer, but solicitous to preserve, before strangers, the proprieties of peace.
“Ah, I see how it is; but do not think to escape me. An hour hence decides our destiny!” muttered Luxmore, as he left her side and drew near to his guests, the clergyman and the lawyer.
They soon now reached the house. Mr. Luxmore and his friends passed into the drawing-room.
Willful Brande, feeling the awkwardness of his position, yet determined not to desert the cause of the friendless girl, threw himself on the wicker settee in the hall.
Etoile went into her own boudoir, and sat down to collect her thoughts, and nerve herself for the coming altercation with her guardian. She had not long remained alone before the door opened, and old Moll entered, bearing a large but light bandbox, which she set upon the table and opened, and from which she drew forth a splendid bridal dress and vail.
“Come, Miss Etwill, honey, better make haste an’ ’ray yourself ’cause Marse Julius whispered to me, how de passon and the lawyer were a waitin’, an’ how he hiss’f wanted to get off from here ’fore night wid de tide.”
“Go and tell Mr. Luxmore that I wish to see him here immediately, and do you also return and remain within the sound of my voice.”
The old woman obeyed, and almost immediately afterward, Mr. Luxmore entered—his fair face pallid, his hazel eyes glittering with excitement. He saw at a glance—by the compressed lips, steady eyes and stern brow of Etoile that his power over her was in a great measure gone—that he would never more influence her through her love, however he might through her _fears_. He did not understand that the only manner in which that young creature could be governed was through her affections or through her conscience.
Burying all these misgivings in the depths of his secretive and guileful heart, however, he resolved to take a daring course, ignoring any change, and addressing her, as though nothing had happened to peril their friendship. He advanced, holding out his hand, and saying with an affectation of joyous confidence—
“Well, my fair bride, what is your sweet capricious will with me?”
“Stand back, sir!” exclaimed Etoile, recoiling and holding up her hand in deprecation of his further advance.
“What the demon do you mean by this, Miss L’Orient?” he exclaimed, simulating astonishment and honest indignation.
“I wonder, sir, that the presence of Willful Brande on this Island does not of itself explain my meaning!” said Etoile, with dignity.
“True, by all the Cupids!” cried Luxmore, with a sardonic laugh; “during my absence to arrange the preliminaries of our marriage, a beardless boy gets himself shipwrecked on the Island, and that circumstance suffices to cause you to meet with scorn one who comes by agreement to claim your promised hand.”
“Yes, Mr. Luxmore, and why?—Because it falls out in conversation that ere you offered to my acceptance a perjured heart, you basely broke faith with one of the noblest creatures that ever trod the earth—one to whom not only the ties of affection but of plighted faith, and of gratitude, should have bound you through life and unto death—your patron’s daughter, Barbara Brande. You broke faith with her under circumstances that so deepen and darken the heinousness of your perjury, as to render it unparalleled in the annals of treachery. And, in one word, Mr. Luxmore, before I would give my hand in marriage to such a traitor, I would thrust it into the fire and hold it there until it should be consumed to ashes!” said the maiden, with the unflinching firmness of a Mucius Scævola.
The suddenness and the severity of this retort so astounded Julius Luxmore that for a moment he stood staring the image of consternation. When volition returned, it came borne on a tide of diabolical fury. He grew livid in the face, his eyes started, his lips foamed, his form was convulsed; he strode toward her with his arm outstretched, and his fist clenched, exclaiming in the low, deep muttering, murderous tone of indomitable will and remorseless wickedness—
“Young woman! do you know that soul, body, and estate, you are mine, mine only, mine utterly—my slave, my property, my chattel; do you know, that as your sole guardian, and the disposer of your person and property, I have the power to imprison, chastise, or otherwise coerce you to my will? Answer me, minion, do you know this?”
The young creature drew her slight form up with queenly dignity and regarded the man before her with a look of such ineffable scorn, that, infuriate as he was, he blenched beneath her gaze. Then—when he had quailed, she answered, slowly—
“Mr. Luxmore, I know not how far your powers as legal guardian may permit you to go, nor how remorselessly you may use them, nor how much beyond their rightful limit you may stretch them. BUT THIS I DO KNOW,” she said, and her slight form arose and dilated and her eyes blazed—“that neither man on earth, nor demon in Hades, has power to compel me to become your wife! And why? Because sooner would I give my body to be burned!”
“Ho! my girl! I can reduce your pride!” he exclaimed, striding toward her, with uplifted hands, as though to clutch her.
“Hold off! My attendants wait within call!” she said, recoiling and holding up her hand.
“Ho, ho! verily my little girl must think herself a princess!” exclaimed Julius Luxmore, with sarcastic malignity.
“Truly, I have so long lived under that illusion, that I cannot all at once dispel its influence! And thus much of queenship remains to me at least, sir, that in a strait my servants would support their legitimate mistress against her false and grasping guardian!” said Etoile, in calm dignity.
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the traitor in malicious derision. “I would have you to know, young Madame, that my position is a legal one, and that any resistance on the part of yourself or your servants would expose you to the punishment I should deem it proper to inflict, and them to the utmost penalties of the law—even to death!”
Etoile, at this threat of ruin to her people, changed color, but after a moment answered calmly—
“I will not then expose my devoted servants to your remorseless vengeance, Julius Luxmore; but as regards myself, your threats are unavailing; do your utmost will, you will find me immovable. No, sir! the prize that you have perjured your soul and broken a heart to gain, has escaped you!”
With a face that had not yet regained its natural color, a face of white death, but for the ferocity of those burning, brown eyes, he glared upon her a moment, and then turning, walked with rapid strides up and down the floor. He could have cursed the sudden passion that had deprived him of his presence of mind, and betrayed him to the exhibition of the very worst phase of his very bad nature. “Why the fiend! could I not have controlled my temper! I might have wrought upon her feelings, through habit, through affection, through gratitude, through pity. I might even have beaten down this young man’s testimony, and secured her to myself! and then! and then! But now——” he thought, grinding his teeth in rage——“And yet it may not be too late! I may yet impress her with the belief that all my rage arose from baffled _love of her_, and if she is woman, she will forgive it!” he reflected. All at once, with his great power of simulation, he changed his expression of countenance, from rage and hatred to passionate love and despair, and burying his face in his hands, walked up and down, groaning in heart-broken tones—“Etoile! oh, Etoile!”
But the young lady paid no attention to his change of mood. Mindful, amid all her distress, of her duties as hostess, she touched her bell, and when her aged attendant opened the door, she said—
“Aunt Moll, go and give orders in the kitchen, that supper be prepared for these strangers, and afterward do you see to the guest chambers in case they should remain all night.”
And when the old dame withdrew to obey, Etoile took her needle-work, and went and sat in her favorite shaded window seat, to pursue her work.
“Oh, Etoile! my Etoile!” moaned Luxmore, with his face buried in his hands, as he strode to and fro.
She bestowed not the slightest notice upon his raving, but quietly continued her sewing. Suddenly he broke off from his walk, and threw himself down beside her, and attempted to seize her hand. She shrank in abhorrence from him. He did not pursue the point, but, breaking forth in a simulation of vehement passion, exclaimed—
“Oh, Etoile, Etoile, you are angry, outraged, and it is natural that you should feel thus toward me! I was mad, phrenzied, to have used such language toward you, my love, my bride, my queen! But oh, child! child! you do not understand the impassioned heart of man! how his love betrayed, wounded and repulsed, turns to madness, instigating him to say and do things at other times abhorrent to his soul! He may become a brute, and rage as I have raged to you, or a fool, to fill some lunatic’s cell, or a homicide, and slay his false love! I would not hurt one golden ringlet of your beautiful head—and yet see how you have maddened me.”
Etoile threaded her needle afresh, and quietly pursued her work.
“Oh, Etoile! Etoile! how can you go on calmly with such trifles, when you behold my agony?”
“How could _you_ go on calmly with your lustrum of falsehood, and leave that bereaved and broken-hearted girl to struggle through her hard life alone?” retorted the maiden, with the color flushing for an instant to her cheek.
“Oh, Etoile, my child! be not so cruel! Look in my face!”
“I cannot see it for the face of Barbara Brande, that is ever before me in her long years of faithful maiden widowhood!”
“Etoile! Etoile! you will drive me mad! pursue me to desperation! arm my hand against—not you, beloved and beautiful one; forgive me, that in my extremity of phrenzy, I ever said a thing so atrocious—but against my own wretched life!”
Even this raving failed to produce the least effect upon the young lady, who went on composedly with her work.
“Behold how you treat me! I who have loved you above all earthly things, from your infancy up! I who watched over your culture——”
“My _intellectual_ culture only. The Lord pity me if you had the direction of my _moral_ training. For all this, Mr. Luxmore, I am just as grateful as I should be to a guardian who educated his ward, an heiress, for his own pride, pleasure, and benefit, and with the view of her eventually becoming his own wife!” said the maiden with cool contempt.
“But it was because I loved you! I loved you, my Etoile, above all created beings!”
“Aye! you loved me so well that you confined me closely to this Island, where I panted like a caged bird for freedom, and where you made my marriage with yourself the only condition of my liberation!”
“Well! yes! little as you understand it, child, that which you have spoken in irony was indeed true! I love you, my inestimable treasure, so exclusively, that I cannot endure that the covetous eyes of another should rest upon you. Yet, once mine irrevocably, I shall take you all over the world—I shall devote my life to the sweet task of making you happy! But, how do you repay my love? Oh, Etoile, how do you repay it? I go away to prepare for our marriage; I make all proper arrangements; I lay the whole city under contribution for your pleasure; I fill my vessel with its costliest treasures for my Etoile; I set sail for home; storms endanger my vessel, and calms delay her; yet, at last, I reach the house of my love; ‘all on fire with joy’ I rush to meet you; and how am I received? With coldness, frowns, and scorn! And all because a stranger youth is wrecked upon your shoals, and fills your ear with a tale of scandal, to which you give a ready credulity, and upon which, without proof on his side or defense on mine, you condemn me!”
“I must answer that! He filled my ear with no tale of scandal! Even could he have done so, I would not have believed it! The truth came out too naturally, too providentially, to have it mistaken for falsehood! We both happened to speak of you—he as his dear brother-in-law, wrecked in the Mercury. I, as my esteemed guardian, saved from the Mercury. But when we approached the subject—like two clouds charged with electricity—the truth, as lightning, flashed forth broad and bright! There was no mistaking it. Nor was that truth unsupported by proof—a score of circumstances, trifling singly, overwhelming in the mass—started up in my memory to corroborate the testimony! and my own purest and profoundest instincts—long felt and long repressed—arose to confirm it? For yourself, though your case appears to me to be indefensible, yet I am ready to hear what you have to say in its defense!”
Julius Luxmore was specious and plausible; he raised his eyes to her face and said with an unctuous earnestness:
“My Etoile, the subject of my defense is scarcely fit for your delicate hearing. My passion for the beautiful Barbara was a mere boyish flame that must soon have vainly burned out. But there existed certain imminent reasons why the family of Miss Brande should earnestly desire her early marriage; thence they took advantage of my childish predilection; they imposed upon my inexperience; in a word, they entrapped me into an engagement with this fallen goddess; and doubtlessly I should have suffered myself to be finally and fatally victimized, had I not been so _fortunate_ as to be wrecked from her father’s vessel, the Mercury, and to find myself rescued and invested with the sole guardianship of an orphan heiress whom it was my bounden duty to seek and cherish. Etoile, I sought and found you, the one angel of my life whom I have loved with a constantly increasing strength from the first moment of our meeting to the present day. Etoile, this is my defense!”
To all this Etoile replied—
“Were it possible, Mr. Luxmore, for me to think worse of you than I thought an hour ago, your defense must have produced the effect of making me do so. When I listen to you, I am led to believe that an evil heart must cloud a man’s brain, so that he has not intellectual power sufficient to deceive any save those whose perceptive faculties may be also obscured from the same cause. Besides, Mr. Luxmore, your mask fell quite off during the ‘short madness’ to which you so lately succumbed!”
The simplicity of her character, upon which Julius Luxmore had so long practiced, upon which he had so long relied for the accomplishment of his ends, was now turned against him; and the honest verdict of her upright mind was delivered with a freedom, plainness and directness, that none but a creature so unconventional might have had, under such circumstances, the courage to exercise.
Julius Luxmore, more self-controlled than at first, paused some time to reflect upon the manner in which he should proceed. Then he renewed the attack. Persuasion, arguments, threats were used in turn, and used in vain. Her affections, her reason, and her fears were successively and fruitlessly appealed to. Two hours were spent in a discussion that it would be tedious here to repeat, as, after all, it embodied what had been said before.
At last, finding all his efforts to move her to his purposes unavailing, Julius Luxmore once more lost his presence of mind, and approaching her, exclaimed, in the deep tone of concentrated rage—
“Very well, minion! You who despise my love shall feel my power!”
“Mr. Luxmore, I almost pity you, that you should be so weak as to suppose that you can intimidate me!” replied the brave girl, calmly.
“Do you deny my authority?” he demanded, in a voice of fury.
“I intend to appeal from you, who have abused your sacred trust, to the Orphans’ Court for protection!” she answered, quietly.
“You do! ha, ha, ha! Why, minion, you are a prisoner. You shall not stir beyond this room until you cross its threshold as my wife.”
“In that case I should remain here until my mortal frame returned to dust. But you are mistaken, Mr. Luxmore; I shall appeal for a hearing before the Orphans’ Court through a friend who has been made acquainted with all my wrongs!”
“Aye! that—that—_miscreant_, Willful Brande!” exclaimed Luxmore, in a voice interrupted and almost inarticulate with rage.
“No, sir; but through an aged gentleman to whom Mr. Brande shall go,” replied Etoile, clipping her thread, and quietly folding up her finished work.
“He shall! but in the meantime there will be delay, during which you will be in my power—and then! then in the meantime!——”
——“I will trust in God, desperate sinner! and no evil shall befall me!” said Etoile, rising to leave the room. But quick as lightning, Julius Luxmore intercepted and passed her, went out and turned the key upon his prisoner.