Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

The next day they were carried to a jeweller in Regent Street, with whom Cyril had had dealings in the days when he thought more of buying than of selling costly trifles. He had not deceived himself as to the worth of the necklace: the person to whom he offered it, a tradesman of undoubted rectitude, was willing to pay him on the spot £550.

No such person as Elizabeth Denham existed, or ever could exist now, therefore the jewels were his own, to do with as he would; and with a lightened heart, that could have broken out into songs of joy, even in bustling, noisy Holborn, he returned to his obscure. lodging in the grimy street in Clerkenwell.

Three days afterwards the claims of Mr. Solomon Jacobs were fully satisfied, to that gentleman's intense and unbounded wonder; and he immediately signified his readiness to accommodate "Mishter Denham" for the future, whenever he had a "little bill" to do, or. whenever he wanted "shemporary asshommodation!" But Cyril had had enough of "little bills" and "accommodations." Never again, he trusted, would he fall into the clutches of a Mr. Jacobs.

352

CHAPTER XXXV.

WANTED, A SITUATION.

AND now, this terrible weight lifted from his mind, Cyril felt himself strong enough for any effort. He did not know, or rather did not realize, how bitter had been to him the house of bondage, till by the mercy of God he had wholly escaped its thrall. He felt sometimes like one who having long wandered in subterranean vaults, hopeless of again returning to the upper world, finds suddenly an outlet, through which rejoicingly he rushes into the warmth and glory of the dazzling nocnday sunshine. His heart swells high with gratitude and praise; but the transition is almost more than he can bear!

When everything connected with the "little bill" was legally concluded, and Messrs. Solomon Jacobs and his emissaries mingled no longer with his visions of the future, Cyril felt as light as air, and he only wondered how, under so severe a pressure, he had been able to carry on any kind of literary occupation with even the feeble and fickle measure of success which had attended his labours. And his dingy rooms in Clerkenwell looked no longer so dreary and forlorn ; life was no more so utterly distasteful; fresh hope sprang up within his heart, fresh purposes, fresh energy; and he felt himself strong to go forth once more and battle with the world.

But with another strength than that which had animated him at the outset of his career: experience had shown him his own weakness, and defeat had taught him to be humble. He trusted in his own prowess no longer; he sought now a Guide, who

should control his vacillating will, and lead him in the righteous paths of wisdom. And looking back upon the events of the last two years, he wondered greatly at his own blindness and perversity, and yet more at the Divine patience which had borne with his wanderings and wilfulness so long. Now he could be thankful for the heavy discipline which had been his lot, and now he saw very clearly that nearly all the troubles and perplexities which had befallen him had been of his own seeking.

"Ah!" he said to himself, one evening, when his articles for that week's Flâneur were all completed, "had I been wise, I should years ago have taken what the world would call 'my fortunes' into my own hands. I should not have been content to lead the dreamy pleasant life I led at Monkswood and at Forest Range; I should never have ventured the little I possessed in that bubble of a mining company. I was willing, nay anxious, to be rich, to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the Denhams; but instead of setting strenuously to work, instead of seeking at the first some solid ground upon which I might patiently and honourably toil, I preferred rather to trust to a chimera, a mere gambling speculation, that could not promise aught but ruin to any one who chose to be involved. Then that failed, as any one with ordinary sagacity might have foreseen; then came my poor mother's death, the sale of Monkswood, and Elizabeth's unfaithfulness; a cloud of sorrows which came not at my bidding, and which I could not chase away. But I can now discern that even those pains and difficulties were sent me for my benefit, to rouse me from my visionary musings, to carry me, rather to urge me, out of the land of the lotus-eaters into the common-place but far healthier world of honest, lawful labour. Then I had a chance; but, as Rattenbury said, I quarrelled with my bread already buttered; I flung away a golden opportunity. In a moment of infatuation I entangled myself with those unfortunate Somersets, and then, to drown the misery of self-reproach that everywhere pursued me,

I plunged into a life of sin and folly; and then God's curse seemed to rest upon me, and I could not prosper. Thank God that I could not; thank God for all the privations and cares that have been my lot. Had I thriven, it would have been the worse for me; I should have grown more and more hardened, I suppose, and have sunk deeper and deeper into the mire of iniquity ---and it would have been for a time only, the success and prosperity I so ardently desired; for the way of transgressors is hard, even though for long years they go on their way unrebuked, and the face of the Lord is against them that do evil. In the end I should have eaten to the full of the fruit of my own way, and I should have been filled with my own devices. Blessed be God that I had not my own way!"

And now Cyril felt that he could forgive Elizabeth, and even his enemy, Vivian Gower, and he longed to write to Agnes, and tell her of the change which had passed over him: but we had left Mentone, and were spending the summer months in one of those quaint picturesque grey towns which nestle on the breezy slopes of the Appenines; rather was it a village than a town, for its power and splendour had long since passed away, and only a few cottages and several villas clustered under the shadow of ruined fern-grown walls, mossy towers, and heaped-up shattered battlements. It was a beautiful place though, and the peasantry were so kind, and we liked our isolated position so well that Sir John left us there while he went for his health on a yachting expedition with the Gowers; they were going to Greece, and from thence Sir John intended to visit Egypt and Nubia, and probably the Holy Land. Our confidential servant, Roberts, remained with us, and we were at any time, if we felt disposed, to return to Forset Range, or to join some relatives of Agnes's, who were somewhere in the neighbourhood of Heidelburg, comfortably domesticated in an ancient ghost-haunted Schloss, hired for an indefinite period.

Agnes had written to Cyril directly after the arrival

of the Gowers at Villa Santa Lucia; she would not have done so but for the miserable report which Mr. Gower brought us of Cyril's rapidly sinking fortunes, and we both thought that, as a simple act of Christian charity, it was only right that he should feel that from him all human sympathies had not yet slipped away, that for him all ancient bonds of friendship had not been dissolved. Agnes pressed me to write the letter, which we both agreed ought to be sent immediately, But I knew well that her influence over him was stronger than mine; I felt too that it was her right, for Cyril Denham was not, and could never be to me, what, alas! he was to her. Weak, vacillating, even, as he afterwards confessed, unworthy as he had proved himself to be, she would still regard him with that strong, still, deep affection which had grown to be a portion of her nature, of her very self. But the kind, sisterly epistle never reached its destination, that is to say, it was never received by him for whom it was intended; just as we had begun to watch and wait for the expected answer, which we fondly hoped would refute some of Vivian Gower's allegations, Agnes's letter came back with "Not known here" inscribed upon the cover.

She had addressed it to Arundel Street, and Cyril, with his usual want of forethought, had not given Mrs. Stalker any directions respecting the letters which might arrive for him after his departure, and he, on his part, as it afterwards appeared, wrote both to Agnes and to myself, letters which would have cheered our hearts, and comforted us greatly, had they ever reached us; but by some strange fatality, some mistake probably in the address, or some irregularities of the foreign post, they were lost, and we were left in entire ignorance of Cyril's proceedings so long as we remained abroad.

In the meantime the summer reached its meridian, and the heat even in England was most oppressive, and Cyril's health, which had hitherto been but very slightly impaired, began to decline apace. The close

[ocr errors]
« ElőzőTovább »