CHAPTER IX. THE RIVALS.
Arden at length drew near the door, and called
to Eugenie, who seemed to have forgotten his
presence by the length of her absence. She came
with a book in her hand, as if she had been reading
by the pillow of her patient, while he, with all a
lover's ardour, believed her to be thinking only of
himself, and impatient to return to him. He was,
however, not easily moved by her apparent indifference;
but, in his own heart, commended that
sense of maidenly reserve her conduct had exhibited.
“Does your patient sleep?” he softly inquired,
his voice aimed unconsciously to her heart, his
words to her ear.
-- 131 --
[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]
“Sweetly. She passed from that fearful paroxysm
without a word into a deep sleep. She
breathes unequally; but 'tis sleep, and I hope the
most favourable result on awakening. But tell me,
sir, how you came to appear so opportunely, as if
you had fallen from the skies?”
“I followed you to this house, after the dragoons
were pleased to restore me to liberty, for the
purpose of reclaiming my stolen charge; was near
when this young lady shrieked, and entered the arbour
just after your left it.”
“How fortunate! Alone, I should not have
known what to do in such an emergency.”
“I feel happy that Miss de Lisle can, under any
circumstances, feel that my presence is agreeable,”
he said, tenderly.
“Major Arden, I have before forbidden such language,”
she said, firmly, and with dignity; “the
betrothed maiden should be as sacred as she who
claims the protection due to a bride.”
“Forgive me, Eugenie,” he said, quickly; and
then, in an altered and grave tone, he continued,
“Can you indeed be ignorant of the true cause of
this lady's illness?”
She started at the marked emphasis of his voice
and manner, and looked at him inquiringly for a
moment, while her face changed alternately from
the deepest crimson to the deadliest paleness, and
her whole frame became agitated by some sudden
and violent emotion. Then, with a wild eye and
a blanched cheek, she laid her hand upon his arm,
and would have spoken, but her voice failed her.
Words could not have been more expressive than
her looks. Her face betrayed a full consciousness
of the dreadful import of his question. Yet she
was far from knowing the extent of her lover's
faithlessness. Her heart only told her that
-- 132 --
[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]
Caroline and Burton were lovers. Indignation and grief
agitated her bosom. But the dregs of the bitter
cup prepared for her she had yet to drink.
“Tell me, Major Arden, for the sake of Heaven!
tell me if my dreadful suspicions are true!”
“Forgive my abruptness; but my duty to myself
as a gentleman, to you as a deceived and suffering
women, compels me to divulge the truth, Miss de
Lisle. Burton is a villain, and—”
“Speak on! I can bear all! Tell me the
worst!” she demanded, with a kindling eye and
compressed lip.
“Your own purity of heart and ignorance of evil
alone prevented you from knowing, half an hour
since, that the name you pronounced in the arbour,
and which I overheard, is the key to Caroline Germaine's
suffering.”
“Merciful God! how blind I am! I see, I
know it all,” she whispered hoarsely to herself;
then added impetuously, “there is more to tell!
I see it in your troubled eyes! Keep nothing
back.”
“It is necessary, my dear Miss de Lisle, that
you should know the worst. Caroline Germaine
is the victim of foul wrong.”
The indignant countenance with which the proud
and insulted maiden heard this disclosure changed,
as he spoke the last word, to an expression of agony
mingled with deep shame. Her brow and bosom
were suffused with a flush of crimson, which
suddenly disappeared again, leaving her face as
colourless as Parian marble, while her young bosom
heaved as if it would burst the bodice that
confined it. Arden repented his sudden disclosure,
and, fearing she was about to fall, extended his arm
to support her, when she waved him back.
“No, no,” she exclaimed, with a stern eye and
-- 133 --
[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]
in a tone of wounded feeling, “I need it not! My
indignation will bear me up in this hour.”
She pressed her hand upon her forehead as if
she would recall the past, while, in the energy of her
feelings, the blood sprung to her lip, which she had
pierced in the intensity of her agony.
“Colonel Arden,” she suddenly exclaimed, unclasping
her hands, “prove this false, and Heaven
will reward you.”
“Alas! it is too, too true,” he answered, with a
melancholy firmness. “It has long been known
to the world.”
After a moment's silent agony, she suddenly
changed her energetic manner, and laid her hand
entreatingly upon his shoulder, while her eyes were
full with the eloquence that pleads to the feelings:
“Oh, tell me that this is not so! Tell me you
have been over hasty in your words! Say you
doubt! Oh, give me one ray of hope!” and her
eyes dwelt on his as if they would read in them
something to assure her that her lover was not so
false; that she herself was not so deeply degraded.
But, alas! there was nothing to assure her;
nothing to arrest the judgment that had gone
forth against the idol of her soul. He tenderly
took her hand, and the moisture of manly sensibility
bedewed his eyes as they rested on the face of
the sweet sufferer. She continued for a moment
longer to watch his countenance, as if still some
faint gleam of hope might linger there; and then, in
the desolation and abandonment of her heart, the
insulted but high-spirited maiden burst into tears,
dropped her head upon the shoulder of the noble
youth, and wept like a very child. This act was
not the impulse of the heart, but the prompting of
nature; the tendril, torn by the rude blast from
its stalk, clinging around the nearest trunk for
-- 134 --
[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]
support. It was woman in the hour of adversity looking
for sympathy and support to the nobler being
man, the natural protector of her weakness.
This tribute to her insulted feelings was but momentary.
Her heart was relieved of its pressure
by a few passionate showers of tears; and raising
her head, and meeting the tender, gratified glance
of his eyes, she blushed and shrank from him, although
with manly delicacy he had refrained from
wounding her sensibilities at such a moment by offering
to support her drooping form in his arms.
She felt his delicacy, and acknowledged it by a
look of gratitude, that amply rewarded his selfdenial.
This forbearance, when she subsequently
reflected how she had abandoned herself in the
grief of the moment, and how he had respected the
sacredness of her injured feelings, went far to give
him a firmer hold upon her heart.
“Colonel Arden,” she said, frankly extending her
hand, “I know you speak the truth. I thank you
for your bitter words. You have saved me from a
fearful delusion; alas! scattered to the winds my
heart's treasures. Poor Caroline! I can now
read his dark purposes by the light you have given
me, and to which my silly heart would have blinded
my eyes, perhaps, till too late. Arden,” she said,
suddenly, “I must leave this house immediately.
Will you protect me to my friends?”
“Cheerfully. The doors of Mrs. Washington's
mansion are ever open to you.”
“Thank the Virgin! there is, indeed, a home
for me! Dear lady! Why did I not believe her?
But Caroline, poor, dear, injured Caroline! She
is dying of a broken heart. Alas, I have killed
her. Indeed, it were enough to kill her. If pride
and scorn did not come to my relief, I should soon
-- 135 --
[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]
be like her. Gentle, suffering creature! she is
not—I cannot believe her criminal.”
“Nor is she. She is the innocent victim of deliberate
guilt. But—”
“We must not desert her; no, never. She has
doubly need of my presence.”
“Excellent girl, who cannot forget the sufferings
of others in your own. Caroline shall also be removed.”
“Alas, I fear 'twill be only to her grave. Ha!
I hear the sound of horses' feet! If it should be
him! Colonel Arden, fly! your life is not safe.”
As she spoke the rapid fall of a horse's hoofs
was heard along the lane bordering the garden,
and the next moment ceased at the gate, which
opened so quickly afterward that the rider must
have thrown himself from his horse in his haste,
and left him loose. A quick, determined tread
traversed the avenue and approached the portico,
on the threshold of which, in the hall door, stood
Arden, calmly awaiting the appearance of the hurrying
intruder.
“It is he!” whispered Eugenie, with a strange,
determined calmness in the tones of her voice.
“I anticipated this,” said Arden, placing his hand
habitually on his sword.
“For God's sake be not rash! Let your own
coolness counteract his fire. But my presence
should at least check him.”
While she spake the form of Burton issued from
the walk, and the next moment he stood before them
on the topmost step of the portico, his dark eye
flashing fire and his lip trembling with emotion.
He checked the fierce words that rose to his lips
as he beheld Eugenie standing pale and unmoved in
the hall; and, as a placid scene succeeds, at the will
of the scene-shifter, the frowning tempest, so the
-- 136 --
[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]
storm of passion disappeared from his brow, and
was followed by a bland and courteous smile, the
more striking from its contrast with the dark expression
that had preceded it; and in his most
courteous manner, although his voice was marked
by a slight shade of irony, he said,
“Colonel Arden, I wish you a good-evening.
We have met before to-night, I believe.”
“We have, sir,” replied Arden, sternly, “and will
meet again. You are a villain, sir.”
“Ha! That to me?” cried Burton, striking his
sword-hilt and half unsheathing his weapon. “The
presence of woman, which you have sought, alone
protects you. But there will be a time—”
“None better than the present to prove your
baseness,” said Colonel Arden, in a determined
tone. “Dare you confess your dark purpose, sir,
in enticing this artless creature?” he continued,
glancing at Eugenie, who gazed fixedly upon the
features of Burton with a face in which love struggled
with indignation. “Dare you confess, sir?”
“Colonel Arden, you presume too much,” said
Burton, with the steady voice of settled hate, “nor
shall I permit you to catechise me.”
“I have one more question to put to you, sir. Is
Caroline Germaine, who, six months ago, was the
loveliest of maidens, and whose wrong rumour hath
blown abroad—I ask you, sir, is she your wedded
wife?”
“Colonel Arden,” cried Burton, who stood chafing
like a chained tiger on the portico, “the presence
of a legion of angels should not prevent me
from chastising you on the spot. So, sir, draw
and defend yourself! and, if it please you,” he added,
with a smile that caused Eugenie to shudder,
at the same time unsheathing his sword, “there
stands the reward of the victor. Strike for Eugenie
and beauty.”
-- 137 --
[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]
“Hold, insulter,” cried Eugenie, extending her
arm between their crossed blades; “degraded as
you have made its owner, pollute not that name!
The charm is broken. You are unmasked, and I
behold him whom I believed an angel of light a
dark, polluted demon!”
“Eugenie!”
“Address me not. I know all. From this moment
I am nothing to thee nor thou to me! I have
been long dreaming on a precipice, and Heaven
has awakened me just as I am ready to fall.”
“Eugenie! I could not have believed this,” he
said, in astonishment, but in a voice of tender reproach
that, had her proof of his guilt been less
palpable, would have touched her heart; “is this
the love you have borne for me?”
“Love? Yes, I did love you, Edward,” she said,
in a changed voice; “but,” she added, firmly, “I
love you no longer. I should hate,” she continued,
with scorn, “did I not pity you.”
She turned from him as she spoke with a withering
curl on her beautiful lip; but it was to hide
tears that stole into her eyes in this struggle between
her heart and head.
“I am, I find, somewhat indebted to you, Colonel
Arden,” said Burton, with concentrated anger,
but speaking slowly and calmly. “If you think
my discarded mistress worth fighting for, I will resume
my interrupted pastime with you, and so
wipe out the score.”
As he spoke he set upon Arden with great fury,
who, skilfully parrying his fierce attacks, acted
only on the defensive. Eugenie did not hear Burton's
offensive allusion, a noise in the adjoining
room drawing her at the moment to the door of
the parlour; but, before she could ascertain the
-- 138 --
[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]
cause of it, the clashing of weapons turned her
back again.
The rapid motion of their swords, as they glanced
in the light, for the moment bewildered her eyes,
unused to such fierce scenes; but, guided by the
impulse that instinctively impels us to attempt to
prevent the effusion of blood in a hasty broil, she
prepared to rush forward, that, by the interposition
of her own person, she might stay their weapons.
A large Indian shawl which Caroline had
thrown aside caught her eye at the instant, and,
seizing it, she threw it, ere the third pass, upon
their crossed blades. In the act she approached
so near Burton that, prompted by some sudden impulse,
he seized her firmly around the waist. Disengaging
his sword at the same time, he said exultingly
to Arden, whose weapon was still entangled
in the shawl,
“Now fight for her if thou wilt have her!”
Eugenie neither shrieked nor struggled, but with
that presence of mind which had hitherto so successfully
aided her, she no sooner felt his arm
around her, and saw his sword brandished to defend
her person, than she drew from her bosom the
stiletto he had formerly given her, and said, in a
low, fearfully distinct voice, that alone reached his
ear,
“Release me, or you die by my hand.”
He instinctively obeyed. The door of the parlour
at this instant opened, and Caroline advanced
steadily and directly towards him. Her face was
haggard and pale; whiter than the snowy robe she
wore. She seemed rather a dweller of the tombs
than an habitant of earth; a pale spectre, which
even death had not robbed of its youthful loveliness.
All were struck dumb at her sudden appearance
and the unearthly solemnity of her countenance.
-- 139 --
[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]
Without looking to either side she approached
Burton, who leaned over his sword and gazed at
her in silent horror, without the power to avert his
eyes from an object he shuddered to look upon.
Fixing on him a cold, steadfast look, she said, in
sepulchral tones,
“Edward Burton, my cup is filled. My heart
is broken.”
The solemn earnestness of her manner affected
them all. Arden looked on her with deep sympathy,
and then cast a glance of resentment at him
who had destroyed so fair a fabric of humanity.
Eugenie was deeply affected. Burton alone stood
unmoved, except by surprise and impatience. He
was about to speak, when she arrested his words.
“Edward, hush! I would no more hear that
voice either in kindness or in anger. May Heaven
forgive, even as I forgive you.”
She then came close to him, and looked in his
face for a moment like one about to take a long
leave of a dear object, her face softening as she
gazed. “Yes, yes,” she said, “they are there! the
same lineaments which are graven on the tablet
of my heart, never, never to be effaced. God in
Heaven bless you, Edward! I cannot curse you!”
Then clasping her hands together and raising her
eyes heavenward, she gently sunk down upon her
knees as if in silent prayer. Eugenie, who had
continued by her side, passed her arm around her
and received her head upon her bosom. The spirit
of the injured sufferer, released without a sigh, took
its flight to that region where there is neither sorrow
nor wrong, and where justice is meted by Him
who sees not as man sees; and who, with unerring
discrimination and wisdom, shall judge between the
tempter and the tempted.
For a few moments the group stood in the
-- 140 --
[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]
portico in which the close of this tragedy had arrested
its individual members: Eugenie supporting the
lifeless body, herself nearly as lifeless; Arden,
with his arms folded and his eye glancing from the
face of the dead victim to the face of the guilty seducer,
his chest heaving with hardly suppressed
emotion. He himself stood leaning on his sword,
gazing upon her with a cool, steady eye and unmoved
lip; his emotion, if he felt any, effectually
disguised from the closest scrutiny. He appeared
rather to be thoughtfully contemplating a specimen
of statuary that had unexpectedly fallen across his
path, than gazing upon the wreck of a beautiful temple
which he himself had despoiled and afterward
destroyed. For a moment, even at that solemn
time, his eye wandered over the form of Eugenie,
and for an instant lingered to mark the heaving
swell of her bosom as she kneeled on the floor over
her insensible burden. Eugenie seemed instinctively
to have felt his libertine glance, for, hastily arranging
her kerchief, which had fallen aside in her
agitation, she laid the head of the corpse upon the
ground; then all at once, with a heightened colour
and a flashing eye, and with the bearing of a young
Pythoness, she addressed him in terms of fierce eloquence,
inspired by mingled emotions of scorn,
contempt, and anger—words faintly expressing the
character and intensity of her feelings.
“Man with the face of an angel and the heart
of a demon! this is your act. Has God given you
power that you should use it to this end? Can
you gaze calmly on this wreck of loveliness?
Does not the silent appeal of death move you?
Has thy conscience no voice? Do you not tremble
at the awful charge the departed spirit of the
murdered Caroline—I repeat it, murdered!—is
at this moment laying at the feet of Divine
-- 141 --
[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]
Justice? Dare you contemplate the future, when she
will confront you in judgment, innocence arraigned
against guilt, the victim against the destroyer?
Cold, dark, guilty being! too low for revenge, too
high for pity, you only merit the contempt of all
honourable minds. Leave this spot, which death
has made sacred! Continue to abuse the exalted
gifts that Heaven has bestowed upon you, but
remember! fearful, both in this life and the future,
will be the retribution. Back, sir,” she cried, as he
advanced as if to entreat her; “approach me, and I
will avenge this dear murdered girl, and send your
guilty spirit to the bar where justice awaits her
victim. Human laws punish not thy crime! 'tis
too great! they cannot reach it. 'Tis alone reserved
for the bar of Heaven. Think not thou
wilt escape its judgment.”
If Caroline had expired in the presence of Burton
alone, he would, perhaps, unseen, have shown
human sympathy for her untimely fate, hastened, if
not wholly produced, by his own criminal passions.
But in the presence of a rival and a victim who
had escaped his toils, his pride came to his aid, and
he affected an indifference which, in reality, he did
not feel. Like all unreal emotions, the cold, unmoved
face that he called to his assistance was
exaggerated. His heart was wrung with remorse
and sorrow, while his features wore an expression
of easy indifference, slightly mingled with contempt,
as if he felt himself, in a manner, the victim
of a got-up scene. The language of the deceased
had affected him so far only as his sympathy was
called into action. Although he felt some degree
of resentment when she at first approached and
addressed him, he was deeply moved when, in her
calm, gentle accents, she lifted her eyes heavenward
and sought the Divine blessing upon him.
-- 142 --
[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]
His heart was pierced through by her few and
simple words; and the agonies of death seemed to
have wrung his own frame as Caroline's sweet
spirit passed away, and left her with a peaceful
smile on her mouth, like an infant just fallen to
sleep. The arrow rankled in his heart; but he set
his features to an expression far removed from that
which they naturally would have assumed, the more
effectually to prevent any outward sign of his inward
emotion from being exposed to his high-spirited
victim or haughty rival; preferring in his proud
heart to appear unfeeling and inhuman, rather than
excite the pity of those whose contempt he felt he
merited. Men will ever choose the hatred rather
than the pity of their fellow-beings.
But the depth of his emotion could not entirely
subdue the outbreakings of that passion which
formed a prominent and a fatal point in his character
when an object was present to excite it, and
it was with visible confusion that he saw Eugenie,
glowing with resentment, immediately rise up and
confront him. His embarassment was, however,
but momentary, and he listened with a cool smile
as she addressed him, though every word she uttered
sunk to his heart. When she ceased he said,
with cutting severity in his sarcastic tones,
“Verily, if I had been Lucifer himself, I could
not have been more highly honoured. 'Tis a pity,
lady, such sweet lips and such a rich-toned voice
should discourse of aught beside love—thy bright
eyes enforcing each argument.”
Eugenie looked on him for a moment in undisguised
wonder and scorn, and then tremblingly
kneeled by the dead body, upon whose face her hot
tears trickled fast. She was roused, however, by
Arden, who advanced upon Burton as he was speaking,
and said, while his voice trembled with emotion,
-- 143 --
[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]
“Man or demon, whichever thou art, avaunt!”
“And leave thee this pretty orator to beguile thy
leisure hours,” replied Burton, with the most provoking
calmness.
The indignant Arden, unable to restrain his feelings,
replied by striking him a violent blow in the
breast with his sword-hilt. Burton staggered back,
but, recovering himself, attacked his antagonist so
madly, that the cooler Arden, who was prepared to
receive him, had all the advantage, and, after two
or three passes, he disarmed him, sending his sword
flying to the extremity of the hall, at the same time
presenting the point of his own at his breast. Eugenie
sprung forward and arrested his arm. Burton
took up his weapon, and, gnashing his teeth with
rage, said, as he descended the steps of the portico,
“When next we meet we part not thus.” He
hastily traversed the avenue, and in a few moments
his horse's footsteps were heard swiftly moving
along the outer hedge of the garden.
Arden and Eugenie remained in the same attitude
in which he had left them until the sounds
had quite died away, when the latter, releasing her
grasp of his sword, pressed her hand to her temples,
and, with a melancholy cry of anguish, would
have fallen, had he not caught her, across the body
of the now happy Caroline, who in this world had
expiated, alas, how severely! the punishment that
followed her error. Poor Eugenie! the fate of Caroline
was, indeed, enviable when compared with
hers. The excitement of her mind subsided with
the absence of its cause. Carried forward with the
rapid transition of events, and shocked by the tragic
end of Caroline, she had not yet time to reflect on
her own state, and realize how deeply all these
things affected her individual happiness. With the
departure of Burton, the proud spirit which had
-- 144 --
[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]
come to her aid in the time of trial deserted her;
and, like the contemplation of his death-hour to the
condemned, her close connexion with the developments
she had been a witness to, and the horrible
reality of all that had passed and its relation
to herself, rushed upon her thoughts, and she sunk
under the weight of affliction that pressed upon
her young heart. She did not faint. But she was
struck with mute and dreadful grief, the more
fearful that it could find no relief in tears. She
leaned upon the sustaining arm of Arden in the full
and lively consciousness of all her suffering; her
eyes were hard, and the fountain of tears seemed to
have been dried up; her lips refused utterance, although
trembling to articulate; her bosom heaved
short and quick; her breathing was difficult and
audible, and her whole frame seemed alive and
expressive of intense mental agony. Arden was
alarmed.
“Miss de Lisle,” he said, looking into her face,
which was eloquent with anguish, “speak to me!
Do not feel it so deeply! Merciful Heaven! her
reason has fled! Speak, Eugenie! Oh God, what
suffering! Weep, let me see you shed one tear,
Eugenie! If you love—no, no, I meant not so; but
try and relieve your heart with tears. You will
die! oh God, you will die!” cried the distressed
Arden, as he supported her in his arms and gazed
into her eyes, which wore that suffering expression
that we often see in the eyes of children who are
afflicted with some severe physical pain which
equally terrifies and distresses them. The cup
was, indeed, full to the brim. Every moment he
expected the delicate vessel would break, when her
heart suddenly overflowed, and tears, happy, merciful
tears, came to her relief.
We will not linger over a scene so distressing.
-- 145 --
[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]
Arden embraced an interval of calmness; and Eugenie,
yielding herself to his protection, was, ere
half an hour elapsed, in the maternal arms of Mrs.
Washington, who poured the balm of sympathy
over her wounded spirit, and bound up her broken
heart.
Like legitimate storytellers, we should here account
for the timely appearance of Arden and the
very untimely reappearance of Burton at the cottage.
Arden, surprised at the audacity of the attack
upon his person, and prevented by his own arrest
from taking any measures for the safety of his
charge, had beheld Eugenie borne off in dismay.
When, however, after the leader of the party had
ridden out of sight with her, he was released by the
dragoons, he commanded two of the soldiers, who
now came up sufficiently crestfallen, to guard the
remaining lady safely to her villa, while he ordered
the others to search the stables for a horse.
“Ha! whom have we here?” he suddenly exclaimed,
as Jacques's head and shoulders hove in
sight on the verge of the hill. This valiant warrior
had remained trembling behind the rock during the
scene we have described; but, after the departure
of the dragoons, he rode from his concealment and
followed the dragoons up the steep ascent. The
soldiers, turning at the exclamation, and seeing a
horseman so near them, were about to fly, supposing
themselves again set upon by the enemy,
when Arden, who saw that he was alone, and manifested
no very belligerant attitude, restrained them,
and, advancing to the rider, demanded his business.
“By my beard! comrades, I have sought your
protection from the Philistines, for I see ye are
good men and true.”
“Give up your sword,” demanded Arden.
Jacques complied, and said,
-- 146 --
[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]
“Thou art an officer, worshipful! but not I.
Though I wear a sword by my thigh, I am naught
but a poor private.”
“Dismount,” said Arden, impatiently. “Soldiers,
hold him under arrest, but harm him not.”
Then taking a hasty leave of the lady, in whose
breast indignation rather than fear was predominant,
and ordering the soldiers to recover their
muskets from the water, and remain at the villa
until his return, he mounted the horse which
Jacques had surrendered, and galloped to the top of
the hill; he then spurred forward to the road, on
which, afar off, he could faintly discern, through
the gathering darkness, what appeared to be a
squadron of horse. To make sure that he pursued
the right road, he dismounted, and, carefully examining
the ground, discovered by the marks that
horses had passed that way towards the town. He
remounted and rode forward, and soon approached
near enough to distinguish the party who had attacked
him riding at full speed, with Eugenie in
their midst. At length the troop halted at the
head of a lane. Arden drew aside to elude observation,
and saw the whole party except three
proceed towards town; these, one of whom was
Eugenie, he beheld, shortly after, turn down the
lane and ride rapidly towards Broadway.
“I will outwit this arch-intriguer,” he exclaimed,
as he saw this manœuvre, “and protect Eugenie
from the snare laid for her with my life!”
He rode after them, lingering so far behind as to
keep them in sight, and at length turned into the
lane, which, overshadowed by trees, enabled him
to advance nearer to them unperceived. When
Burton sent Zacharie forward to the cottage, and
Eugenie, reining up, questioned him in relation to
her destination, Arden resolved to rescue her then.
Alighting, he secured his horse to the hedge, and,
-- 147 -- p157-422
[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]
advancing softly, came so near as to overhear enough
of their conversation to enable him to judge of the
intentions of Burton, and to be assured of the artless
confidence of Eugenie. His first impulse was
to rush upon Burton, and win her from his grasp at
the sword's point. After deliberating a moment,
however, he determined to adopt another course.
He therefore returned to his horse, and followed, as
they rode forward, until they alighted at the gate
of the cottage. He then approached closer, and
would have dismounted and pursued his investigations
further, but was defeated in his object by the
presence of Zacharie, and his purpose was to avoid
discovery. He hovered around the house and determined
to enter after the departure of Burton; but,
at length, for fear of being encountered, and thereby
defeating his object, he rode slowly towards the
head of the lane, when the sound of horses' feet led
him to quicken his pace. The result is already
known.
When Arden dismounted at the gate the voices
in the arbour arrested his ear. He listened to the
playful story told by Eugenie until the shriek of
the ill-starred Caroline called him to her aid. It
was Burton's suspicions of the true character of the
spy he had pursued that induced him to return a second
time to the cottage.
Ingraham, J. H. (Joseph Holt), 1809-1860 [1838], Burton, or, The sieges. Volume 2 (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf157v2].
