CHAPTER CLXIX.

A SCENE.

Lord William entered his cab, and drove rapidly away towards Kentish

Town.

It was mid-day when he reached the abode of Mrs. Sefton--for his

interview with the attorney had been a very long one: but at length

his equipage stopped at the gate of a beautiful little villa standing

in the midst of a garden well laid out, and having iron railings along

the side adjoining the main-road.

[Illustration]

Leaping from the vehicle, Lord William opened the gate and hastened up

to the front door, which was immediately opened to his summons, by a

little page in a plain but neat livery.

To his inquiry whether Mrs. Sefton were at home, an answer in the

affirmative was given--the boy however adding that his mistress was

engaged at the moment.

Scarcely was the response thus conveyed, when the lady herself, having

caught the sound of the young patrician’s voice, came forth from a

parlour opening from the hall; and, tendering him her hand, she said,

“Oh! I am so glad you are come, my lord--for I am cruelly bewildered

how to act!”

“Has anything new transpired, madam?” asked Trevelyan, unable to gather

anything decisive from the expression of her countenance, which seemed

to denote mingled hope and uncertainty--a gleam of satisfaction shining

from amidst dark clouds of suspense.

“Come with me, my lord,” she said; “and you will advise me how to act.”

Thus speaking, she led the way into the parlour, followed by Trevelyan.

A man rose from a chair on his entrance; and the sinister countenance

of that individual appeared to be not altogether unfamiliar to the

young patrician, who could not however conjecture at the moment where

he had seen or met that person before.

The individual himself seemed to recognise the nobleman--or at least

to be troubled by his presence: but, almost immediately recovering his

self-possession, he bowed low and resumed his seat.

“This gentleman, my lord,” said Mrs. Sefton, “is a Mr. Green of

Liverpool,--and he has brought me strange--nay, the strangest tidings

relative to Sir Gilbert.”

“And what may those tidings be, madam?” asked Trevelyan, addressing his

words to the lady, but keeping his eyes fixed suspiciously on Mr. Green

all the time.

“Remember, madam, that all I have said has been in the strictest

confidence!” exclaimed the latter hastily, and with a manner which

only tended to increase the young nobleman’s suspicions.

“But Lord William Trevelyan is an intimate--a very intimate friend of

Sir Gilbert,” said Mrs. Sefton.

“It matters not, madam,” observed Mr. Green: “my instructions were

positive----”

“It matters greatly, however, sir,” interrupted the lady. “Your tale

appeared to me strange and inconsistent from the very first--though

Heaven knows what motive you can have in deceiving me so cruelly, if

deceit it be: but now my suspicions are painfully increased----”

“Madam, you know not what you are saying,” exclaimed Green: “you are

insulting me, after all the trouble I have taken in this matter. But

have your own way--my presence is no longer necessary here.”

And, rising from his seat, he was moving towards the door, when a

light suddenly broke in upon Trevelyan’s mind--and it flashed to his

recollection that he had encountered this individual that very forenoon

in the office of Mr. James Heathcote, the attorney.

“Stop, sir!” he cried, seizing the clerk by the collar of his coat, and

forcibly detaining him: “we have met before--I know you now! Scarcely

two hours have elapsed since you conducted me into the presence of Mr.

Heathcote, who is doubtless your master.”

“Mr. Heathcote!” ejaculated Mrs. Sefton, a deadly pallor covering her

countenance. “Ah! then my suspicions are to be confirmed--and he is

persecuting _me_ now!”

“Be seated, sir,” said Trevelyan, pushing the discomfited clerk back

into the chair which he had so recently left. “And now, madam,” he

continued, turning towards the lady, “will you have the kindness to

explain to me all that this man has told you--the object of his visit,

in fine?”

“Oh! my lord, what hideous treachery is at work!” exclaimed Mrs.

Sefton, sinking upon a sofa, almost overcome by the varied emotions

that agitated in her bosom. “This man introduced himself to me as Mr.

Green of Liverpool, and as having brought me tidings of Sir Gilbert.

He represented that Sir Gilbert, seized with a sudden terror through

pecuniary difficulties, had fled to America----”

“’Tis false! false as ever diabolical deceit could be!” cried

Trevelyan, emphatically. “I will stake my existence that so far from

being in any financial embarrassment, Sir Gilbert Heathcote owes not a

farthing in the world, and does not live even up to his income.”

“Your lordship takes too much upon yourself in making such random

statements,” said Green: “since I am well assured of the exact truth of

the story I have told the lady.”

“This is a singular way for a man to express himself, if he be an

actual emissary from Sir Gilbert,” observed Trevelyan. “You are well

assured of the exact truth of your story--are you? Then you would have

us infer that you had received it second-hand. But pray continue,

madam:--what else did this fellow tell you? We shall unmask him

altogether presently--and perhaps his next move will be from hence to

the presence of a magistrate.”

Mr. Green endeavoured to assume as much composure as he could possibly

call to his aid: but he did not at all admire the aspect that things

were taking--nor did he feel comfortable under the threat so plainly

held out.

“Oh! my lord, what a snare has been spread for me!” exclaimed Mrs.

Sefton, clasping her hands together in profound thankfulness that

she had escaped the danger. “This bad man who now trembles in your

presence, would have induced me to accompany him with the least

possible delay to Liverpool,--thence to embark by myself in order

to rejoin Sir Gilbert in New York. He has even about his person the

funds to bear the expenses of my voyage:--and he would at once have

hurried me away to Liverpool,--only, in the first place, a vague

suspicion was excited in my mind,--and, secondly, I had particular--oh!

very particular reasons for remaining in London at least a few hours

longer----”

Mrs. Sefton suddenly checked herself: she was being hurried away by her

excited feelings into allusions or positive revelations, on the verge

of which she thus stopped short. Trevelyan did not, however, comprehend

the motive of the abrupt pause which she made, but attributed it to the

influence of her over-wrought emotions.

“Mr. Green--or whatever your real name may be,” exclaimed the nobleman,

turning round upon the clerk, “what explanation can you give, sir, in

respect to all this?”

“I know not by what right you demand any explanation, my lord,” said

the man, determined to put as good a face upon the matter as possible.

“I will tell you by what right,” returned the patrician: “by the

right which every man has to protect and defend a lady against the

machinations of her enemies--by the right that every honest member of

society has to unmask a villain----”

“Do you allude to me, my lord?” demanded Green, rising from his seat.

“I do, sir,” replied Trevelyan. “You are a villain, because you have

lent yourself to an infamous trick. You cannot have been imposed

upon--inasmuch as you have told many deliberate and wilful falsehoods.

You pretend to have arrived straight from Liverpool, whereas you are

undoubtedly a clerk in the office of Mr. James Heathcote--for you

enacted the part of a clerk when I called there ere now. You would

have induced this lady to quit London and repair to a foreign country,

where nothing but disappointment--perhaps beggary--would have awaited

her; and this act is so vile--so atrocious--so horribly base, that I

can scarcely control my feelings--I can scarcely restrain my patience,

while I thus upbraid you with your infamy. Were you a younger man,

sir----”

But the nobleman stopped short, ashamed of wasting a menace upon one so

unworthy of the honest ire of a generous soul.

“Now that your lordship has lavished all your abuse upon me, perhaps I

may be permitted to depart,” said Green, with much apparent coolness,

though in reality he was terribly alarmed.

“Not until you have explained the meaning of this atrocious proceeding

in which you have borne so prominent a part,” replied Lord William.

“Make up your mind to answer my questions in a way that shall carry

truth upon the face of your words--or prepare to give an account of

your conduct to the proper authority.”

“What--what would you have me do, my lord?” asked the miserable wretch,

now unable to conceal his terror--unable also to subdue the trembling

of his limbs.

“Has foul play been adopted with regard to Sir Gilbert Heathcote?”

demanded Lord William, speaking in a measured tone, and fixing his eyes

keenly upon the clerk.

“Good God! Does your lordship suspect that he is murdered?” exclaimed

Green, horrified at the bare idea. “No--no: thank Heaven--it is not so

bad as that!”

“Thank Heaven also!” murmured Mrs. Sefton, her heart experiencing a

relief so great and sudden--for the man was evidently speaking the

truth--that she felt as if she were about to faint through excessive

joy.

“I scarcely apprehended such a frightful alternative as my words may

have seemed to imply,” said Trevelyan. “But delay not, man--speak--tell

me--tell this afflicted lady also--where is Sir Gilbert Heathcote?”

“My lord, I dare not----”

“Hesitate not another moment, sir,” cried the nobleman, grasping the

clerk violently by the collar of his coat: “hesitate not, I say--or I

will drag you into the presence of the magistrate. Tell me--where is my

friend?--where is Sir Gilbert?”

“My lord--my lord”--stammered the affrighted wretch, his countenance

rendered hideous by its workings.

“Speak--sir--I command you!” exclaimed Trevelyan, in a tone of terrible

excitement. “Trifle not with me--or I shall do you a mischief.

Where--where, I ask for the last time, is Sir Gilbert Heathcote?”

“In----But you will kill me, my lord----”

“Speak, villain! Where is he?” demanded the infuriate noble.

“In a mad-house!” was the reply, absolutely wrung by terror from the

clerk.

A piercing scream burst from the lips of Mrs. Sefton--and in another

moment she fell heavily upon the carpet, with a dead sound as if it

were a corpse that had rolled from the sofa.

Trevelyan--stupified by the astounding words that had fallen upon

his ear--let go his hold on the wretched clerk, on whom he stood

gazing for a few moments as if he had become petrified--turned into a

statue--paralysed--motionless. But suddenly he seemed to be struck with

the conviction that Mrs. Sefton needed his assistance; and, forgetting

in the agitation and excitement of his feelings to keep a watch upon

the clerk, he hastened to raise the prostrate lady from the floor.

He placed her upon the sofa, and sprinkled water (of which there

happened to be a decanter full on the table) upon her countenance. In a

few minutes she opened her eyes, and gazed wildly around her.

Trevelyan drew back a few paces so that the air might circulate freely

about her--when, suddenly remembering the clerk, he looked hurriedly

round.

But the villain had stolen away!

At this moment a bitter groan burst from the lips of Mrs. Sefton; for a

remembrance of all that had just occurred came rapidly to her mind--and

the horrible word “mad-house” seemed to echo in her ears and touch a

chord that vibrated with a feeling of anguish to her very brain.

She covered her face with her hands, while her bosom heaved

convulsively.

“Compose yourself, madam, I implore you,” said Trevelyan. “Even this

certainty which we have acquired, is preferable to the suspense

previously endured.”

“But is there hope, my lord--is there any hope left for _me_?” she

inquired, removing her hands from her countenance--now so pale--and

gazing up at the young patrician in a beseechful manner.

“Assuredly there _is_ hope, my dear madam,” returned Trevelyan,

emphatically. “I am confident that Sir Gilbert is in the possession of

his intellects as completely as ever, and that he is a _victim_--but

not a _maniac_. Indeed, I see through it all!”

“Oh! now you inspire me with hope!” exclaimed Mrs. Sefton, taking

his hand and pressing it with fervent gratitude: and as her face was

upturned towards his own, it suddenly struck him,--struck him like a

flash of lightning,--that there was in that countenance an expression

reminding him of Agnes Vernon,--although he had never beheld the

features of the Recluse of the Cottage otherwise than tranquil, calm,

and serene. Nevertheless, that idea seized upon him: but in the next

moment he said to himself, “It is mere fancy!”--and as Mrs. Sefton at

that instant settled herself in such a manner upon the sofa that her

back became turned to the window and the variation of light produced a

change in the expression of her countenance, that idea was immediately

absorbed in other and more important considerations in the mind of the

young patrician.

“Oh! now you inspire me with hope!” Mrs. Sefton had said; and her face

brightened up--so that it was at the moment when this sudden lustre of

joy was suffused upon her features, that the above mentioned idea had

struck the nobleman.

“Yes, madam--there is every reason to hope,” he responded. “The entire

plot, in all its terrible iniquity, is now before me as clear as the

noon-day sun. I can read it as plainly as if it were in a book. The

brother is at the bottom of it all.”

“Did I not tell your lordship that he was a villain?” asked Mrs. Sefton.

“Yes, my dear madam,” replied Trevelyan: “but I am slow to form

injurious opinions of any man. Now, however, I have the conviction of

his turpitude--and I hesitate no longer to proclaim him to be all that

you represented him.”

“But--merciful heavens! while we are wasting time in words,” exclaimed

Mrs. Sefton, seized with a sudden access of wild excitement, “Gilbert

is in a horrible predicament--and we should be acting--not talking.”

“Haste and precipitation will effect no good in this matter, my dear

madam,” said Trevelyan.

“But we must find out the place where he is confined--we must apply

to the officers of justice--we must release him!” cried the lady, her

excitement increasing.

“Pray, my dear madam, listen to me with some degree of composure,” said

the young nobleman; “and I will explain to you how we must proceed, and

why nothing can be done with that speed which would naturally be most

consonant with your feelings.”

“I am composed--I am tranquil now, my dear friend--for in such a light

you will permit me to consider you,” observed Mrs. Sefton, exercising

as strong a control over her emotions as she possibly could command.

“In the first place I must tell you that I saw Mr. James Heathcote

this morning,” resumed Trevelyan “and when I think of his cool

villainy--his unblushing effrontery--his matchless impudence, I

could tear my hair with rage at the idea of how I was duped. For

though I entered his office with a strong suspicion--in spite of the

remonstrance which I last night made to you--I quitted his presence

with a very different impression.”

“And that man who was ere now with us, is his clerk?” said Mrs. Sefton.

“But what could be the motive of their base attempt to induce me to

quit the country with such extraordinary precipitation?”

“The reason is apparent enough, my dear madam,” answered Trevelyan;

“and I will now explain to you the whole matter, as I understand

it. James Heathcote has suborned two unprincipled villains,

calling themselves medical practitioners, to grant a certificate

of the insanity of his brother. The law of England permits such a

proceeding----”

“Then the law of England is worthy only of barbarians!” exclaimed the

lady, emphatically.

“You are not the only person in the country who entertains the same

conviction,” observed Trevelyan, with a smile: then, instantly resuming

a serious expression of countenance, he said, “By virtue of that

certificate, Sir Gilbert is suddenly seized upon and carried off to a

madhouse.”

“Oh! it is horrible!” cried the lady, in a tone of extreme bitterness

mingled with anguish, while a convulsive shudder passed over her from

head to foot.

“The iniquity is tremendous--and yet it is legal,” said Lord William.

“Yes--I blush for my country when I declare such to be the fact,--I

blush also for my fellow-countrymen that they should tolerate a system

which savages themselves would regard with abhorrence! Well, madam, the

deed is done--the atrocity is consummated--and Sir Gilbert Heathcote,

though in the complete enjoyment of his intellects, is borne off to a

lunatic-asylum. James--his vile brother--will obtain the control over

his property; and that is the aim and object of his wickedness. But

knowing that you are interested--deeply interested in Sir Gilbert’s

welfare----”

“Oh! heaven can witness how deeply!” exclaimed the lady, clasping her

hands with fervour.

“Knowing, I repeat, how profoundly you are interested in all that

concerns my valued friend,” continued Trevelyan, “James Heathcote

sought to expatriate you at least for a season--so that he might

prevent you from adopting any measures to restore the victim to the

enjoyment of freedom.”

“But of what avail would a few weeks’ delay be, even supposing that

the plot devised against myself had succeeded?” asked Mrs. Sefton. “If

I had gone to America, I should have found that Sir Gilbert was not

in New York--and I should have forthwith returned to London. Unless,

indeed,” she added, with a shudder, “my heart had broken with the

immensity of its sorrow!”

“Ah! madam--and it was perhaps upon this catastrophe that the vile man

reckoned!” said Lord William, his blood growing cold at the extent of

the turpitude which he was contemplating. “And yet a more terrible

suspicion still has come into my mind--a suspicion so dreadful----”

“Name it! Keep me not in suspense!” cried the lady, observing that her

young friend was himself becoming painfully excited now.

“During your absence, madam,” returned he, his countenance

darkening,--“during your absence, I say--supposing that you had been

induced to depart--sufficient time would be gained to drive Sir Gilbert

mad in reality; and then, on your reappearance in London, the lawyer

would have defied all that you could possibly attempt or devise!”

“Merciful heaven!” ejaculated the horror-stricken woman; “can so much

black iniquity exist in the human breast?”

“Alas! such schemes as these are of frequent occurrence in this land

which vaunts a consummate civilisation!” said Trevelyan. “Could we

but penetrate into the mysteries of the mad-house, we should behold

scenes that would make our hair stand on end--our blood run cold in

our veins--our very souls sick! Yes, madam--too often, indeed, is the

lunatic asylum rendered the engine of the most hideous cruelty: too

often does it become a prison for the _sane_!”

“You will drive me mad, my lord!” cried Mrs. Sefton, dreadfully

excited: “I shall myself become an inmate--and deservedly so--of one of

those awful places!”

“Pardon me, dear madam--pardon me,” said Trevelyan, deeply afflicted at

having suffered his excited feelings to hurry him into those passionate

exclamations which had so terrified her. “I was wrong thus to dwell on

the subject.”

“No--no: it is better that I should learn the worst,” she cried, with a

strong spasmodic shuddering, while horror--ineffable horror--convulsed

her countenance. “But how shall we rescue him from that living tomb?”

“Abandon not yourself to despair,” replied Trevelyan. “In the first

instance I must discover the place where our friend is confined: and

then, trust to me to effect his deliverance!”

“Excellent man!--generous-hearted noble!” cried Mrs. Sefton, in a tone

indicative of the most fervent gratitude. “But will not the law aid us

in all this?”

“I have already explained to you, my dear madam, that every thing

has doubtless been done by James Heathcote under colour of the most

monstrous law that disgraces our statute-book,” responded Lord William.

“Were I to apply to a magistrate, I could obtain no redress: he would

be unable to assist me. The Commissioners in Lunacy would view the

matter in the ordinary light, and tell me that when the time for the

usual periodical visit to the various asylums arrived, due inquiries

should be instituted. No--the lawyer must be assailed by other weapons:

cunning must be met by cunning;--and much as I abhor duplicity, I will

not fail to use it, if necessary, in this case. Believe me when I

assure you that no time shall be lost, and that I will without delay

adopt measures to discover the place where our friend is imprisoned.”

“God send you success!” murmured Mrs. Sefton, faintly: then, in a

higher tone and with renewed excitement, she said, “But how can I calm

my feelings--how can I tranquillize myself even for a moment, while

this state of suspense shall last? And when I think of what _his_

feelings must be----Oh! it is enough to drive him mad in reality where

he is, and me likewise mad here!”

“But you _must_ endeavour to exercise some degree of command over your

emotions,” said Trevelyan. “Consider--reflect--I may require your aid

in this work of deliverance; and----”

“Oh! now indeed you hold out an inducement calculated to calm me--to

give me courage!” exclaimed Mrs. Sefton. “Yes--I _will_ be tranquil: I

_will_ exercise a greater control over my feelings. I will throw aside

the weakness of a woman, and become strong in the hope of Sir Gilbert’s

rescue, and in the endeavour to accomplish it.”

“This frame of mind becomes you, my dear madam,” said Trevelyan. “And

now permit me to take my departure--for there is no time to be lost.”

“Farewell for the present,” responded Mrs. Sefton, offering him her

hand; “and accept my most unfeigned gratitude for your noble conduct

towards me and your generous intentions in behalf of Sir Gilbert

Heathcote.”

“You shall thank me when I have succeeded in my endeavour to restore

him to you,” said Trevelyan pressing the lady’s hand with the

cordiality of that friendship which, short as their acquaintance had

been, circumstances had established and even cemented between them.

He then hastened away from her dwelling, and drove to his own house in

Park Square.