The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 5 of 5). Burney Fanny

abated rage, bid Juliet arise, and accompany him down stairs.

      'Ah, no! – ah, spare – ah, leave me yet! – ' in broken accents, and in French, cried the still prostrate Juliet.

      The man, who was large made, tall, and strong, seized, then, both her arms, with a motion that indicated his intention to drag her along.

      A piercing shriek forced its way from her at his touch: but she arose, and made no appeal, no remonstrance.

      'Si tu peus le conduire toute seule,' said the man, sneeringly, 'soit! Mais vas en avant! Je ne le perdrai plus de vu.'5

      Juliet again hid her face, but stood still.

      The man roughly gave her a push; seeming to enjoy, with a coarse laugh, the pleasure of driving her on before him.

      Harleigh, who saw that her face was convulsed with horrour, fiercely planted himself in the midst of the passage, vehemently exclaiming, 'Infernal monster! by what right do you act?'

      'De quel droit me le demandez vous?'6 cried the man; who appeared perfectly to understand English.

      'By the rights of humanity!' replied Harleigh; 'and you shall answer me by the rights of justice! One claim alone can annul my interference. Are you her father?'

       'Non!' he answered, with a laugh of scorn; 'mais il y a d'autres droits!'7

      'There are none!' cried Harleigh, 'to which you can pretend; none!'

      'Comment cela? n'est-ce pas ma femme? Ne suis-je pas son mari?'8

      'No!' cried Harleigh, 'no!' with the fury of a man seized with sudden delirium; 'I deny it! – 'tis false! and neither you nor all the fiends of hell shall make me believe it!'

      Juliet again fell prostrate; but, though her form turned towards her assailant, her eyes, and supplicating hands, that begged forbearance, were lifted up, in speechless agony, to Harleigh.

      Repressed by this look and action, though only to be overpowered by the blackest surmizes, Harleigh again stood suspended.

      Finding the people of the inn were now filling the staircase, to see what was the matter, the foreigner, in tolerable English, told them all to be gone, for he was only recovering an eloped wife. Then, addressing Juliet, 'If you dare assert,' he said, 'that you are not my wife, your perjury may cost you dear! If you have not that hardiness, hold your tongue and welcome. Who else will dare dispute my claims?'

      'I will!' cried Harleigh, furiously. 'Walk this way, Sir, and give me an account of yourself! I will defend that lady from your inhuman grasp, to the last drop of my blood!'

      'Ah, no! ah, no!' Juliet now faintly uttered; but the man, interrupting her, said, 'Dare you assert, I demand, that you are not my wife? Speak! Dare you?'

      Again she bowed down her face upon her hands, – her face that seemed bloodless with despair; but she was mute.

      'I put you to the test;' continued the man, striding to the end of the gallery, and opening the last door: 'Go into that chamber!'

      She shrieked aloud with agony uncontrollable; and Harleigh, with an emotion irrepressible, cast his arms around her, exclaiming, 'Place yourself under my protection! and no violence, no power upon earth shall tear you away!'

      At these words, all the force of her character came again to her aid; and she disengaged herself from him, with a reviving dignity in her air, that shewed a decided resolution to resist his services: but she was still utterly silent; and he saw that she was obliged to sustain her tottering frame against the wall, to save herself from again sinking upon the floor.

      The foreigner seemed with difficulty to restrain his rage from some act of brutality; but, after a moment's pause, fixing his hands fiercely in his sides, he ferociously confronted the shaking Juliet, and said, 'I have informed your family of my rights. Lord Denmeath has promised me his assistance and your portion.'

      'Lord Denmeath!' repeated the astonished Harleigh.

      'He has promised me, also,' the foreigner, without heeding him, continued, 'the support of your half-brother, Lord Melbury, – '

      'Lord Melbury!' again exclaimed Harleigh; with an expression that spoke a sudden delight, thrilling, in defiance of agony, through his burning veins.

      'Who, he assures me, is a young man of honour, who will never abet a wife in eloping from her husband. I shall take you, therefore, at first, and at once, to Lord Denmeath, who will only pay your portion to your own signature. Go, therefore, quietly into that room, till the chaise is ready, and I promise that I won't follow you: though, if you resist, I shall assert my rights by force.'

      He held the door open. She wrung her hands with agonizing horrour. He took hold of her shoulder; she shrunk from his touch; but, in shrinking, involuntarily entered the room. He would have pushed her on; but Harleigh, who now looked wild with the violence of contending emotions; with rage, astonishment, grief, and despair; furiously caught him by the arm, calling out, 'Hold, villain, hold! – Speak, Madam, speak! Utter but a syllable! – Deign only to turn towards me! – Pronounce but with your eyes that he has no legal claim, and I will instantly secure your liberty, – even from myself! – even from all mankind! – Speak! – turn! – look but a moment this way! – One word! one single word! – '

      She clapped her hands upon her forehead, in an action of despair; but the word was not spoken, – not a syllable was uttered! A look, however, escaped her, expressive of a soul in torture, yet supplicating his retreat. She then stepped further into the room, and the foreigner shut and double-locked the door.

      Triumphantly brandishing the key, as he eyed, sidelong, the now passive Harleigh, he went into the adjoining apartment; where, seating himself in the middle of the room, he left the door wide open, to watch all egress and regress in the passage.

      Harleigh now appeared to be lost! The violence of his agitation, while he concluded her to be wrongfully claimed, was transformed into the blackest and most indignant despondence, at her unresisting, however wretched acquiescence, to commands thus brutal; emanating from an authority of which, however evidently it was deplored, she attempted not to controvert the legality. The dreadful mystery, more direful than it had been depicted, even by the most cruel of his apprehensions, was now revealed: she is married! he internally cried; married to the vilest of wretches, whom she flies and abhors, – yet she is married! indisputably married! and can never, never, – even in my wishes, now, be mine!

      A sudden sensation, kindred even to hatred, took possession of his feelings. Altered she appeared to him, and delusive. She had always, indeed, discouraged his hopes, always forbidden his expectations; yet she must have seen that they subsisted, and were cherished; and could not but have been conscious, that a single word, bitter, but essentially just, might have demolished, have annihilated them in a moment.

      He dragged himself back to his apartment, and resolutely shut his door; gloomily bent to nourish every unfavourable impression, that might sicken regret by resentment. But no indignation could curb his grief at her loss; nor his horrour at her situation: and the look that had compelled his retreat; the look that so expressively had concentrated and conveyed her so often reiterated sentence, of 'leave, or you destroy me!' seemed rivetted to his very brain, so as to take despotic and exclusive hold of all his faculties.

      In a few minutes, the sound of a carriage almost mechanically drew him to the window. He saw there an empty chaise and four horses. It was surely to convey her away! – and with the man whom she loathed, – and from one who, so often! had awakened in her symptoms the most impressive of the most flattering sensibility! —

      The transitory calm of smothered, but not crushed emotions, was now succeeded by a storm of the most violent and tragic passions. To lose her for ever, yet irresistibly to believe himself beloved! – to see her nearly lifeless with misery, yet to feel that to demand a conference, or the smallest explanation, or even a parting word, might expose her to the jealousy of a brute, who seemed capable of enjoying,

5

'If you can walk alone, well and good; but go on first. I shall lose sight of you no more.'

6

'By what right do you enquire?'

7

'No; but there are other rights!'

8

'How so? Is she not my wife? Am I not her husband?'