Tales and Sketches.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 31, 26 August 1871, Page 16

Tales and Sketches.

THE BRIDGE OE SIGHS. A Yachting Story. [From All the Year Round.] CHAPTER lII.—THE NEW MONUMENT. At last nearly a year went by, a time more than sufficient to save or to destroy. Still there came no tidings. Then the doctor heard that the family had gone abroad, and he told the news with a fitting contempt, that * they were broke horse and foot,’ but had contrived to save something out of the fire. This charge may have been owing to the doctor’s constitutional contempt for poverty in general, and reverses in particular, but was more specially connected with accurate news he had received of the flourishing health of the incumbent whose living had been promised to him, and who had returned from the Homburg waters with a fresh stock of vitality. As the space between that scene on the river gradually widened, and newer associations of regret and tenderness for the victim were quite softening away all ugly memories, Jessica felt every hour an increasing certainty that this was the solution. Conway must naturally turn his eyes away from that spot, where he had found such pain and trouble, and even a little bit of tragedy. He would be glad to have done with it, and his vague and generous promise need not stand in the way. Meanwhile, Knollys, R.A., had been diligently at work, and had completed a memorial, which was admired in town. The doctor had volunteered a Latin inscription, which he had forced with much importunity on the father with many a ‘ Leave it to me, Sir Charles, I’ll find something classical.’ In the club, and in many a house in the town, he was for ever pulling out his bit of paper with the ‘ rough draft’ of this inscription, and grew testy and even insolent, when anything like an emendation was suggested. It ran something after this fashon: HIC • DEPOSITUM ' EST OMNE ’ QUOD • SUPEREST. MORTALE. L A U R M. CAROLI • PANTONI ’ BARONETTJE * FILIA • DILECTISSIMA. And expatiated a good deal on her being ‘endowed with abundant wealth, and great tracts of land, and having left her weeping father and loving friends to sorrow inconsolable.’ In short, to do the doctor justice, it was a very fair reproduction of the correct mortuary inscriptions. In due lime great cases came down by train along with workmen, and the memorial was set up in the church. Knollys, R.A., had done his best —which did not travel beyond a limited area. The result was a G-othic marble canopy, with the snowy figure reposing beneath, as if asleep, her arms upon her breast and her hands crossed. They had been at work for three or four days, and on the Saturday were trying hard to get all finished by the Sunday. About seven o’clock it was ready ; the men had gathered up their tools and gone away ; a gas lamp or two was still flaring, and by and bye they would come and sweep away the dust and fragments. The light played in curious colored shadows on the low lying marble figure, which was destined to repose tranquilly there during many an untold Sunday service, while gentler or louder voices would come and succeed the doctor’s; while new and ever succeeding eyes would wander over and speculate as to the story to whom this gigantic LAIJRiE seemed to belong. There, too, was the clergyman’3 pew almost on a level—so near that a woman’s eyes in that- pew could peer into that cold marble face.

Such a reflection actually occurred to a veiled and muffled figure, standing in front of the monument, and gazing at the sleeping figure with a strange and sad interest. There was her old enemy lying prostrate before her in chill stone, with something like a reproach on her face. Knollys, R.A., had at least made a good likeness. She saw even in that dim light the same perverse look about the lips, closed with a certain obstinacy. But the idea of having to sit there, Sunday after Sunday, with that face gazing at her, and taking, by force of her own imagination, expressions of reproach, anger, or superiority, was, she felt, mere than she could endure. ‘Not that!’ she said, half aloud. ‘ls there nothing to save me from that ? Yet if she were to arise now from that cold bed I would not shrink nor fly; for lam innocent in all that took place about her. Even now, as she lies there, she ha 3 her victory, and I do not grudge it to her; but it falls hardly on me. She might raise her head from that cold pillow, and give her old smile of triumph to see me thus deserted. Yet I cannot bring myself to blame him. I should have known that this must have come to pass, that he has been forced again into the auction room to extricate his family. Yet it would be more like retribution if she had still power to keep him from me now as she had in her life. She turned hastily ; for she heard a sound of steps slowly approaching, and did not wish to be surprised. In a moment she heard a voice, the music of which she well knew. She gave a cry of surprise and joy. ‘ Jessica!’ said Conway. ‘lt seems no chance that has made us meet here in presence of her image. The same holy thought drew you here as well as me, and takes away my last foolish scruple. We can both approach to pay this poor homage to her memory ; and you know we dared not do it unless out hearts were pure. Ah, Jessica! now at last I can shut out that dismal day; how we can look to the future, and think of being happy.’ ‘ And you have returned to me,’ said Jessica. * I never dreamed of this. I had given up all hope of seeing you again.*

‘We have hope now for the future, and plenty,’ he said, eagerly. ‘ All will be well. The clouds have all passed away. I could haye returned here long since, but hesitated, thinking that you, like myself, had some weak scruple, and that that poor girl’s end might be supposed to have changed everything. Yet though I hardly dare say it, it seems I was saved from a terrible fate—from a shipwrecked life, from the degradation of having married for money, and from the misery which must have followed. But now all is clear at last, and I have come back to save you. You shall at last begin a happy life, with me. We shall never look back ! Hush ! who is this ?’

A figure came slowly advancing into the church, and the two hastily drew aside into the shadow. The figure still advanced until close up to the monument, clasped its hands, and, bending passionately over the marble figure, gazed w.th an unspeakable tenderness into the face. Then bent down slowly and kissed the marble cheek. Turning round suddenly at some sound of footsteps the light fell on his face, and his fierce eyes were directed into the dark shadow where they stood. ‘ What!’ cried Dudley. ‘ You have chosen this place and this night for your unholy meeting! Does she dare—of all creatures in the world !’

' Hush !’ said Conway, indignantly. ‘This is no place ’ * ‘ Come &way, then, out of it,’ he said, frantically. ‘ I will not have this sacred spot profaned by your meeting.’ They were now outside the church. ‘ See, Dudley,’ said Conway, gently, ‘I can make any allowance in your case; but this seems going too far.’ * I see the game,’ said Dudley, looking from one to the other, ‘ she is out of the way now, a decent time has elapsed, and you pick her out, the unrelenting enemy—almost her murderess !’ *

Conway felt Jessica’s arm trembling on his, and she herself was nearly falling. ‘ This is intolerable,’ he said. ‘ And you must be mad to speak so.’ ‘Take care, Conway,’ said the other solemnly.

‘ I give you this solemn caution. Take care what step you take; if you profane the dead in that way, I tell you you little dream of the curse that will attend you through life. And you,’ he said, turning to Jessica, 1 if you have sense or wisdom, and value your peace of mind for the rest of your life, you will pause before you engage in this sacrilege. lam no prophet, but a man that has kept my word in everything yet. What I have said should come to pass has come to pass. For his sake, if not for your own, take care.’ ‘ Come, no more of this,’ said Conway. ‘ You have forgotten that other lesson I once gave you, I can see.’ * style of speech will not affect me. I have a duty to-night, and it will not turn me from it.’

His eyes, even in that darkness, were so wild and fierce, that he seemed under the influence of some frensy. Jessica felt she could not endure this trial much longer, and whispering Conway, ‘Let me go, he frightens me,’ fled away out of the church. ‘This is generous and manly on your side, Dudley,’ said Conway, ‘ and only that I myself must hang my head in that presence, and cannot justify myself, I would be very angry. I am sorry to see you cannot control yourself.’ ‘Yet it was a hard fate, Conway. One so young, and with such fair prospects.’ The other said warmly, ‘lt seems cruel. And yet if it had been otherwise, she might never hate been happy.’ ‘ With you?’ said Dudley, looking at him fixedly. ‘ Why not ?’ ‘ But I have repented it bitterly. No one can know the remorse I have suffered. And after all,'from what the doctor said, this cruel end of hers might have come at any moment from any excitement. Nay, should properly have come before.’

‘ But how can you tell ?’ said the other: * how can you be sure, that this excitement that caused her death had not something to do with you or yours ? What if she had found out this wicked deception of yours ? You call it so yourself. Or if some one had charitably told her of it. There is no knowing.’ ‘lmpossible,’ said the other; ‘I had left her but a few minutes, and was signalling to her from the yacht. The doctor explained it simply. She had stumbled against the root of a tree, and the start and shock ’

‘Of course, we know that. I am only speculating. Doctors can explain everything. But were I her father, or were I her acknowledged lover, I mean a genuine lover, I should not be satisfied. I should not go mooning ridiculously about, questioning and speculating. When I had found out all, which might also mean that there was nothing to be found out, I should rest. Now you mean to marry that clergyman’s daughter. There is no use disguising it, Conway. Duty came first; then love. You are entitled to follow your inclinations. I don’t want to pry into your secrets.’ * You have guessed rightly,’ said the other. ‘ If you knew the whole story, you would say it is but a poor reparation for all she has borne for me, and from the world.’ ‘ Not a word of her,’ said Dudley, furiously. I No glorification of her. I know her true character. You can marry whom you please, &nd welcome. Though I would warn you as a friend, in this case take care; She is marked, and has a reckoning -to pay us yet —a heavy one.’

* I see there is no reasoning with you,’ said Conway. ‘I am going home : good night.’ ‘ I am not going home and shall wait here.’

Any one lingering in that clnu*ch would have seen Dudley’s face lit up with a sort of ghastly delight. Then approaching the marble monument he bent over it again, and said to it, ‘Now, lost angfel there will be a sacrifice at your tomb, as good as any ever offered at any shrine. And before long 1 shall bring to you an offering to their joint misery and wrecked happiness, that

will help to make you sleep calmly in your grave.’ CHAPTER IV. —THE MARRIAGE. In due course of time that marriage day came round. The doctor, in loud objectedjjfio the abatement of all the splendor of a marriage ceremony down at St. Arthur’s-on-the-Sea when he proclaimed that ‘my daughter was going to marry a very clever, high-bred young fellow, Conway, Lord Formanton’s son.’ They had to proceed to London, and there the ceremony was to take place in the wilderness of an old city church, The noble father and mother of the clever Conway ‘set their faces’ against this alliance. Human natures are never indisposed thus to magnify ft matter they slightly disapprove of into a serious outrage, and so Lady Formanton told her fine friends at those fine parties she was now beginning to resume that ‘ she knew literally nothing about the matter,’ and that she bad no scruple in saying publicly that she and Lord Formanton quite disapproved of the matter. This was yet another reason for making the matter quite private. As the day drew near the little shadows and phantoms which had disturbed the lovers began to clear off. Their approaching happiness, like some sharp stimulant, banished all these dreary recollections and doubts ; made them seem indeed foolish. They came even to that frame of mind which made them consider it a duty to put such idle disturbers far away, as the truly just man will turn away from very plausible scruples. As they walked about the great metropolis, and the doctor stalking in front attracted attention as he affected to be a regular resident, and defeated his aims by loud proclamations and descriptions of very familiar objects, Conway said to her, ‘ Now, indeed, I feel that a new life is to begin for us both. I shall have that rest which I have so long sought, and which is so necessary if there is any scheme to be carried out. There is time for such a future, dearest Jessica. Together we shall surprise the world.’ She looked at him fondly. Even for her the mere change was a new life after the prison discipline at her father’s—that all but convict life where the doctor had literally held little more communication with her than a jailor would with his prisoners. Only the day before the marriage, Conway and his future wife were walking about in this supreme stage of tranquil happiness—he laying out plans, and expatiating on that new and future life of theirs which she delighted to hear of. ‘ Ah, here,’ he said at last, ‘1 am so rejoiced that this last day of the old life has arrived, and that the curtain comes down here to shut out the past. To-day is the last day that I shall turn my face backwards and look at it. I shall think of that poor girl now for the last time, and for the last time of that act I was about to do—the only one in my life which I may indeed blush for. And yet even on that last day of her life I felt scruples, and I do think I might have gone to her, finding the struggle intolerable, and have withdrawn. I have searched my heart, and I solemnly declare I would have done this. And yet she loved me : and even when that stroke overtook her she was thinking of me !’

The color came to Jessica’s cheek. ‘ Loved you!’ she said, warmly. ‘I do not believe it. You must not think that. At least part of it came, I fear, from a dislike of me. And as for her last thoughts ’

*Ye3 !’ he said, interested. ‘ Tell me about that; tell me all about her and yourself, as I have told you-about myself. Just for this last day, and we have done with the subject for ever. You saw her then ?’

Would it not be better to tell him all now, and leave no secret on her soul ? And yet how could she explain that mysterious concealment ?

When she now recalled, almost with alarm, that she had told no one of having been with Miss Panton when she was seized with that illness, she felt she could not tell it without embarrassment then ; at least she must think it over. He saw her hesitation, and said smiling :

‘ I understand. lam not to know all secrets I see ’

The voice of the doctor, stentorian and blustering came in with an intrusive blast, and that opportunity passed away. Never, never, of all the many times when that obstreperous clergyman had interfered had he been so fatally mal apropos. Here was the morning. The old church was so lonely, so vast, so white, and sepulchral; there might have >been a dozen ceremonies going on without interfering with each other. It might have done duty as a vast ecclesiastical barn, for laying up holy grain, and would have been more uaoful in that capacity than in the one for which it had been constructed. It might have been the Hall of Lost Footsteps over and over again, and it seemed to be furnished with many fixtures—cupboards and groaning presses, shelves, with a huge packing case or two lying about, which resolved themselves into galleries, pew r s, pulpit, and reading desk.

Here, upon this bright marriage morning, came a small party, as it were, crawling over the pavement of that huge white store like a few mice in a granary. There was no show of bridesmaids no filling up of the regular stock parts. The doctor, ruffling in his cannonicals like some gigantic cock, came out, and began the rite. His voice echoed sonorously down that vast solitude, and made the decrepit old pewopener look back and wonder at the needless and unaccustomed noise. She looked round again as 'Bhe saw Dudley standing at the doorway, and looking in. No one else saw him, or round ; but as the ceremony came to a close he entered and advanced nearer and nearer, and as the party went into the vestry he followed them in.

The new Mrs Conway started as she saw that dark stern face, not at all colored with the conventional glow of congratulation.

Conway, always tranquil, never surprised, received him with a good natured nod. Already for him the heavy folds of a curtain had dropped over the past. He would never raise even the corner to peep behind. There were the usual formal duties to be done, and while he was away for a few moments Dudley drew near to her and said :

‘ Ah, poor, poor Laura Panton ! Who thinks of her now ?’

She turned away from him ; the malignancy of that reminder, so it seemed to her at such a moment needed no notice.

‘ She almost prophesied this to me,’ he went on, as it were, to himself, ‘ during those last few moments when I was carrying her to the bank,’

Jessica started. ‘ Carrying her to the bank! What, you were there ?’

‘ Yes. Oh that I had come up a few moments sooner ! That would have saved her. She said her enemy would not cross in the boat, but went round the long way, so that she might die before help came. Her enemy ! Whom could she mean ?’ ‘ A boat! And there was a boat there !’ she faltered. c Oh, good Heaven !’ Here was the happy bridegroom, the routine business done ; here the ‘ noble father’ out of his robes.

‘ I am offering my congratulations,’ said Dudley, looking at her intently, ‘ and congx-a-tulate you too, Conway. A new life is beginning for you.’ * Yes,’ said he, pleased ; ‘ such as I have never known yet. I have waited for it a long time. You look tired and fatigued. No wonder. Come, dearest. Remember,’ he whispered, ‘ the curtain is dowix—that is to be the background.’

Dnconscious of Dudley, they departed for the great hotel where they were staying. Dudley looked after them long. ‘ This gives life an intei-est,’ be said, to himself. * I may leave all now to work itself out for a year and more.’

(To he continued.)