Paul Clifford — Complete
long and impassioned caress; and Lucy, as her breath mingled with his,
and her cheek drooped upon his bosom, did indeed feel as if the past
could contain no secret powerful enough even to weaken the affection
with which her heart clung to his. She was the first to extricate
herself from their embrace. She drew back her face from his, and smiling
on him through her tears, with a brightness that the smiles of her
earliest youth had never surpassed, she said,--
“Listen to me. Tell me your history or not, as you will. But believe
me, a woman's wit is often no despicable counsellor. They who accuse
themselves the most bitterly are not often those whom it is most
difficult to forgive; and you must pardon me if I doubt the extent of
the blame you would so lavishly impute to yourself. I am now alone in
the world” (here the smile withered from Lucy's lips). “My poor father
is dead. I can injure no one by my conduct; there is no one on earth
to whom I am bound by duty. I am independent, I am rich. You profess to
love me. I am foolish and vain, and I believe you. Perhaps, also, I have
the fond hope which so often makes dupes of women,--the hope that if
you have erred, I may reclaim you; if you have been unfortunate, I may
console you! I know, Mr. Clifford, that I am saying that for which many
would despise me, and for which, perhaps, I ought to despise myself;
but there are times when we speak only as if some power at our hearts
constrained us, despite ourselves,--and it is thus that I have now
spoken to you.”
It was with an air very unwonted to herself that Lucy had concluded her
address, for her usual characteristic was rather softness than dignity;
but, as if to correct the meaning of her words, which might otherwise
appear unmaidenly, there was a chaste, a proud, yet not the less a
tender and sweet propriety and dignified frankness in her look and
manner; so that it would have been utterly impossible for one who heard
her not to have done justice to the nobleness of her motives, or not
to have felt both touched and penetrated, as much by respect as by any
warmer or more familiar feeling.
Clifford, who had risen while she was speaking, listened with a
countenance that varied at every word she uttered,--now all hope, now
all despondency. As she ceased, the expression hardened into a settled
and compulsive resolution.
“It is well!” said he, mutteringly. “I am worthy of this,--very, very
worthy! Generous, noble girl! had I been an emperor, I would have bowed
down to you in worship; but to debase, to degrade you,--no! no!”
“Is there debasement in love?” murmured Lucy.
Clifford gazed upon her with a sort of enthusiastic and self-gratulatory
pride; perhaps he felt to be thus loved and by such a creature was
matter of pride, even in the lowest circumstances to which he could ever
be exposed. He drew his breath hard, set his teeth, and answered,--
“You could love, then, an outcast, without birth, fortune, or character?
No! you believe this now, but you could not.
“Could you desert your country, your friends, and your home,--all that
you are born and fitted for? Could you attend one over whom the sword
hangs, through a life subjected every hour to discovery and disgrace?
Could you be subjected yourself to the moodiness of an evil memory and
the gloomy silence of remorse? Could you be the victim of one who has no
merit but his love for you, and who, if that love destroy you, becomes
utterly redeemed? Yes, Lucy, I was wrong--I will do you justice; all
this, nay, more, you could bear, and your generous nature would disdain
the sacrifice. But am I to be all selfish, and you all devoted? Are you
to yield everything to me, and I to accept everything and yield none?
Alas! I have but one good, one blessing to yield, and that is yourself.
Lucy, I deserve you; I outdo you in generosity. All that you would
desert for me is nothing--O God!--nothing to the sacrifice I make
to you! And now, Lucy, I have seen you, and I must once more bid you
farewell; I am on the eve of quitting this country forever. I shall
enlist in a foreign service. Perhaps” (and Clifford's dark eyes flashed
with fire) “you will yet hear of me, and not blush when you hear! But”
(and his voice faltered, for Lucy, hiding her face with both hands,
gave way to her tears and agitation),--“but, in one respect, you have
conquered. I had believed that you could never be mine,--that my past
life had forever deprived me of that hope! I now begin, with a rapture
that can bear me through all ordeals, to form a more daring vision. A
soil maybe effaced,--an evil name maybe redeemed,--the past is not set
and sealed, without the power of revoking what has been written. If
I can win the right of meriting your mercy, I will throw myself on it
without reserve; till then, or till death, you will see me no more!”
He dropped on his knee, left his kiss and his tears upon Lucy's cold
hand; the next moment she heard his step on the stairs, the door closed
heavily and jarringly upon him, and Lucy felt one bitter pang, and, for
some time at least, she felt no more!
CHAPTER XXXI.
Many things fall between the cup and the lip!
Your man does please me
With his conceit.
...............
Comes Chanon Hugh accoutred as you see
Disguised!
And thus am I to gull the constable?
Now have among you for a man at arms.
...............
High-constable was more, though
He laid Dick Tator by the heels.
BEN JONSON--Tale of a Tub.
Meanwhile Clifford strode rapidly through the streets which surrounded
the judge's house, and turning to an obscurer quartier of the town,
entered a gloomy lane or alley. Here he was abruptly accosted by a man
wrapped in a shaggy great-coat, of somewhat a suspicious appearance.
“Aha, Captain!” said he, “you are beyond your time, but all 's well!”
Attempting, with indifferent success, the easy self-possession which
generally marked his address to his companions, Clifford, repeating the
stranger's words, replied,--
“All's well! What! are the prisoners released?”
“No, faith!” answered the man, with a rough laugh, “not yet; but all
in good time. It is a little too much to expect the justices to do our
work, though, by the Lord Harry, we often do theirs!”
“What then?” asked Clifford, impatiently.
“Why, the poor fellows had been carried to the town of -----, and
brought before the queer cuffin (Magistrate) ere I arrived, though I
set off the moment you told me, and did the journey in four hours.
The examination lasted all yesterday, and they were remanded till
to-day,--let's see, it is not yet noon; we may be there before it's
over.”
“And this is what you call well!” said Clifford, angrily. “No, Captain,
don't be glimflashy! You have not heard all yet! It seems that the only
thing buffed hard against them was by a stout grazier, who was cried
'Stand!' to, some fifty miles off the town; so the queer coffin thinks
of sending the poor fellows to the jail of the county where they did the
business!”
“Ah! that may leave some hopes for them! We must look sharp to their
journey; if they once get to prison, their only chances are the file
and the bribe. Unhappily, neither of them is so lucky as myself at that
trade!”
“No, indeed, there is not a stone-wall in England that the great
Captain Lovett could not creep through, I'll swear!” said the admiring
satellite.
“Saddle the horses and load the pistols! I will join you in ten minutes.
Have my farmer's dress ready, the false hair, etc. Choose your own trim.
Make haste; the Three Feathers is the house of meeting.”
“And in ten minutes only, Captain?”
“Punctually!”
The stranger turned a corner and was out of sight. Clifford, muttering,
“Yes, I was the cause of their apprehension; it was I who was sought;
it is but fair that I should strike a blow for their escape before I
attempt my own,” continued his course till he came to the door of a
public-house. The sign of a seaman swung aloft, portraying the jolly
tar with a fine pewter pot in his hand, considerably huger than his own
circumference. An immense pug sat at the door, lolling its tongue out,
as if, having stuffed itself to the tongue, it was forced to turn that
useful member out of its proper place. The shutters were half closed,
but the sounds of coarse merriment issued jovially forth.
Clifford disconcerted the pug; and crossing the threshold, cried in
a loud tone, “Janseen!”
“Here!” answered a gruff voice; and Clifford, passing on, came to a
small parlour adjoining the tap. There, seated by a round oak table,
he found mine host,--a red, fierce, weather-beaten, but bloated-looking
personage, like Dick Hatteraick in a dropsy.
“How now, Captain!” cried he, in a gutteral accent, and interlarding his
discourse with certain Dutch graces, which with our reader's leave we
will omit, as being unable to spell them; “how now!--not gone yet!”
“No! I start for the coast to-morrow; business keeps me to-day. I came
to ask if Mellon may be fully depended on?”
“Ay, honest to the back-bone.”
“And you are sure that in spite of my late delays he will not have left
the village?”
“Sure! What else can I be? Don't I know Jack Mellon these twenty years!
He would lie like a log in a calm for ten months together, without
moving a hair's-breadth, if he was under orders.”
“And his vessel is swift and well manned, in case of an officer's
chase?”
“The 'Black Molly' swift? Ask your grandmother. The 'Black Molly' would
outstrip a shark.”
“Then good-by, Janseen; there is something to keep your pipe alight. We
shall not meet within the three seas again, I think. England is as much
too hot for me as Holland for you!”
“You are a capital fellow!” cried mine host, shaking Clifford by the
hand; “and when the lads come to know their loss, they will know they
have lost the bravest and truest gill that ever took to the toby; so
good-by, and be d---d to you!”
With this valedictory benediction mine host released Clifford; and the
robber hastened to his appointment at the Three Feathers.
He found all prepared. He hastily put on his disguise; and his follower
led out his horse,--a noble animal of the grand Irish breed, of
remarkable strength and bone, and save only that it was somewhat sharp
in the quarters (a fault which they who look for speed as well as grace
will easily forgive), of most unequalled beauty in its symmetry and
proportions.
Well did the courser know, and proudly did it render obeisance to, its
master; snorting impatiently and rearing from the hand of the attendant
robber, the sagacious animal freed itself of the rein, and as it tossed
its long mane in the breeze of the fresh air, came trotting to the place
where Clifford stood.
“So ho, Robin! so ho! What, thou chafest that I have left thy fellow
behind at the Red Cave! Him we may never see more. But while I have
life, I will not leave thee, Robin!” With these words the robber fondly
stroked the shining neck of his favourite steed; and as the animal
returned the caress by rubbing its head against the hands and the
athletic breast of its master, Clifford felt at his heart somewhat of
that old racy stir of the blood which had been once to him the chief
charm of his criminal profession, and which in the late change of his
feelings he had almost forgotten.
“Well, Robin, well,” he renewed, as he kissed the face of his
steed,--“well, we will have some days like our old ones yet; thou shalt
say, Ha! ha! to the trumpet, and bear thy master along on more glorious
enterprises than he has yet thanked thee for sharing. Thou wilt now be