No. 12.

THE DOUBLE PROPHECY;

RESULT OF

THE ABDUCTION-MISS TRAVERS'S VANITY DOES MUCH MISCHIEF-MISS BENNET FOUND OUT.

An old, stupid-looking woman opened the door for them, and showed them into the dining-room, where there were refreshments laid out, precisely as if they had been expected. This startled Maria, and it seemed to her like a troubled dream, but she could not understand it.

"Now, my dear Miss Brindsley," said Clinton, "you have, I know, every reason to feel alarm and agitation; of course you will admit the necessity of some refreshment; allow me to help you to a glass of wine."

"No sir," said she, "nothing of the kind will pass my lips to-night. Only, I entreat you, that whatever you have to say to me you will say it quickly, and conduct me home again with as little delay as possible. What must they think at Miss Travers's of my absence, or how will I account for it? If you respected me, Mr. Clinton, you would not treat me as you have done."

"I did respect you, Maria-I will call you so-and I loved you besides, God only knows how well and how sincerely."

"And pray, what did I ever do to cause me the loss of your respect?"-she did not add love.

Clinton swallowed a glass of wine, and looked her sternly and severely in the face.

"Can you ask me such a question ?" said he, in return. "What has been your intimacy with Captain Doolittle?"

"Captain Doolittle!" said she, astonished; "why I know not the man-I never spoke to him."

"Did he never write to you?"

"He did. The servant told me that a letter she brought up came from Captain Doolittle; I wrote upon the back of it-' returned with indignation and scorn;' but I did not even open it. I laid it on the chimneypiece, when called by Miss Travers to furnish some accounts, which I am in the habit of doing, and when I returned to my room the letter was gone, and I never saw it since; neither could I return it to him un

VOL. II,

1861.

opened as I had intended; some person must certainly have stolen it."

"God bless me !" thought Clinton, "how beautifully she fences; there is no touching her. Well, but Miss Brindsley, did you never meet this man? upon the N- -y road, say?"

"Never in my life, Mr. Clinton."

"Nor he never called upon you?"

but now,

"He did, some time ago, but I refused to see him.". "Ah, he was imprudent to call upon you there Miss Brindsley, allow me to tell you-and I assure you it is very painful to me that I do not believe one word of what you have uttered. You have seen him, you have had assignations with him, and -and-I need not add what I had intended to say -I saw your own letter to him, appointing a meeting, and soliciting his protection-for it bore no other construction. Now the letter you sent him and that you sent me are both written by the same hand, What have you to say to that fact?"

"I have to say this"-and as she spoke, she started indignantly to her feet-" that if Captain Doolittle can produce a letter, as coming from me, either he is one of the most unprincipled villains that ever lived on earth, or that he has been misled, and the letter is a forgery."

Clinton paused for a minute or two; but the man was jealous, and, as Shakspeare has said:

"Trifles, light as air,

Are to the jealous confirmation strong
As proofs of holy writ."

There were the two letters, unquestionably written by the same hand. Doolittle was a knowing and practised rake, and had prepared her for such an encounter as this.

"Did you not admit," said he, "in your reply to my letter, that you had one protector in whom you could trust? How will you answer that, Miss Brindsley ?"

"Sir," she replied, and the tears burst from her eyes, "the protector I meant in my letter to you was -the Almighty God.”

Clinton for a moment felt as if he had got an electric shock; he was awed, he was subdued for a time; but of all passions which agitate and agonize the human heart, there is none so difficult to eradicate out of it as jealousy. This, he thought upon a little reflection, was all very fine-but there were the accursed letters. That allusion to Almighty God was a beauți

ful escape-one, indeed, which none but an exceedingly clever creature could make; and then he looked at her she was in tears; her face was flushed into the most tempting and inexpressible beauty-in fact, the sensual devil became strong in him, and he changed his tactics. He represented to her how happy they might be together; she had been his first love, he said; he loved her still, he would continue to love her, only let her make herself worthy of it; he would provide for her; he would take her out of the wretched condition of life in which she was placed. The provision he would make for her would be for life. Let her think of the change which the acceptance of this proposal would effect in her circumstances.

And

in order to satisfy her that there was neither fraud nor delusion in his intentions, he would have the settlement regularly and properly drawn up by a solicitor of respectability and eminence, and if she wished, she her. self might choose the man.

Maria rose up, and her face became flushed with a resentment so deep that for a short time she could not utter a syllable; her breast heaved with the indignation which was pent up within it, burning to escape in words. At length she spoke.

"So sir," she proceeded, "this then was the explanation you wanted! this was your unmanly and dishonourable object in dragging me by brutal power and violence to this lonely place, to offer me those vile and profligate proposals! You have made, however, a great and a grievous mistake; I am not such a person as you suspect me to be. I am an humble, but, thank God, a virtuous girl, and sooner than consent to the abominable offers which you are not ashamed to make me, I would beg my bread from house to house, or lie down behind a ditch and breathe out my last gasp with an unsullied conscience under the open sky of heaven." "Ah!" said he, "I see clearly that you never loved

me."

"Loved you! did I ever say that I did, sir?" "No, but I thought I read it in your eyes. You love another, however, that is a clear case."

"No sir, there you are again mistaken. I say, in the presence of God, that I do not love another. But ask yourself what the proof of my love is, which you are ungenerous enough to require from me. To throw myself into a life of shame and infamy, not to gratify your love, but your base and profligate passions, to enable you to boast to your fellow profligates, that you have me as your kept mistress. But Mr. Clinton, understand me once for all. You ask me to become your kept mistress; now, so far from that, I declare most solemnly, that knowing your principles as I do, I would not, even should you gain the consent of your whole family to it, become your wife, much less your mistress. Now sir, I have said all I intend to say, I have given you the only explanation I can give-and if there has been a mystery between us, I trust I have cleared it up. At present all I have to ask of you is, that you will conduct me safely and honourably home, and may God forgive you for your conduct to me this

night! It may be the means of destroying the reputation of an innocent and well-conducted girl."

There was a burning and indignant spirit of sincerity in her words, a tone of such high principle and pure morality, such an unquestionable consciousness of offended chastity, that Clinton was mute, and felt himself incapable of making any reply. He walked about the room, and said to himself, "What if I have been mistaken after all, or rather somehow misled ; but then, there are the hints thrown out by Miss Travers, and who appeared to allude to them with reluctance, and as if she did not wish to compromise or injure the character of this girl. We know it is true how those ladies can act their part when in a crisis like this. Perhaps, after all, this scene may be an excellent jest between her and Doolittle. I believe that once a woman throws off the principles of virtue, she sticks at nothing-not even at the most solemn oaths when they are necessary to protect her from suspicion—yes, and even when their hearts are as corrupt as hell itself, or the festering worm that crawls upon the carrion. Well, I will bring her home, safe too, and without offence, but I shall not give her up yet. I shall sift her character thoroughly, and satisfy myself as to whether I am right or wrong in my suspicions, if after the letters I have seen, I can call them such."

"Miss Brindsley," said he, "your wishes shall be complied with. I shall conduct you safely home; but you think too much of the world, and of the opinions of the world. What is the world to us but a blank unless we can enjoy ourselves, and take as much pleasure as we can out of it?

"Alas, sir," she replied, "I admit it is an unjust world. You and such as you, may seduce and destroy, and the world rather applauds than condemns you, but how does the opinion of that world act upon your victims ? It spares not them, whilst the authors of their ruin and the principals in their crime go through society boasting of their triumphs, instead of being ashamed of them; whilst the wretched being whom you have brought to vice and infamy, goes down, step after step, to the lowest depths of profligacy, and sin, and misery. Sir, I beg you to bring me home."

"Can this be hypocrisy," thought Clinton; "where did or could this girl have got such sentiment or such language-language so much above her education and condition of life? Well, I shall see into that too; yet how many of them are clever and fluent as a summer stream? Oh, if I find that she is unstained and pure, what shall I do? I know not, but I will think of it; but first for the scrutiny-the investigation into her private life; I shall leave no person acquainted with her unexamined; I shall either prove her to be as white and pure as the unsullied snow, or as black and hypocritical as perdition itself, and all that belongs to it."

"Now, Miss Brindsley," said he, "I am ready to conduct you home."

Thank you, sir," she replied, "those are the only agreeable words I've heard from your lips to-night."

In a few moments they were on their way to the house of Miss Travers.

Both, as they went along, were full of their own thoughts, and they spoke but little. Maria was silent and still, but Clinton, although he directed scarcely any conversation to her, was evidently in a state of the most indescribable anxiety. He sighed deeply, and even groaned with what might be well termed anguish.

"Why is it that I feel this interest in you?" said he ; "why is it that you deprive me of my sleep at night? By heavens, Maria, you are the whole world to me. Night and day, morning, noon, an evening, you are the sole subject of my thonghts. But I am in torture -oh, if I can find you what I would fain hope; but what I fear, I dread that I cannot-there would not exist on the surface of this earth so happy a man. I would give millions if my love for you were boundless and without suspicion.'

"I do not wish to encourage your love, sir," she replied, "if love it be, but I would go any length to relieve myself from your suspicions-your most unjust suspicions."

At

He made no reply to this, and they drove on in silence until they came pretty near Maria's home. this moment another hackney coach drove up to them, proceeding in the same direction. The persons inside appeared to be evidently in great good humour. laughed and chatted, and to the surprise of Clinton, he at once recognised the voice of Doolittle. He pulled

They

the string and whispered the driver to stop, which he did. It was obvious that their own carriage had not been perceived by Doolittle and his companion, otherwise they would not have talked so loudly.

"Remain here for a few minutes," said Clinton, springing out, "I must ascertain what Doolittle is about. It is no good I know, but I shall watch him and see where he goes to."

He accordingly followed the other carriage, and to his astonishmeut saw that it stopped at Miss Travers's house.

The night, we have observed, was very daik, and he had little difficulty in edging up close to the door, where he stood with his back against the wall in such a position that it was difficult if not impossible to see him. At length the carriage drove up and stopped at the door, and Doolittle handed his lady out.

"Now," said he, "my darling Maria, I must tear myself from you," and as he spoke he kissed her several times, adding "Good night now, my dear Miss Brindsley, good night, and do not forget to dream of me."

"Go now," she replied, " you are a naughty man; why did you make me so fond of you ?"

She then walked over, and deliberately applying a latch-key to the door, let herself in, and closed it very quietly. Doolittle's carriage drove away at a rapid rate, and Clinton, thunderstruck at what had happened, hastened to Maria, and immediately mentioned what he had heard.

"Have you," he asked, "a sister in that establishment ?"

"No sir," she replied, "I am an only child." "But do you know who the girl is that was in the hackney coach with him ?"

"Unfortunately I do," she replied; "she is a young woman from Dublin who conducts Miss Travers's business, and the only enemy I have in the house."

66

By heavens, then," he exclaimed, "all is now clear! My beloved girl, she has corresponded with him in your name, and passes herself on him for you."

The probability of this instantly struck Maria, especially when she thought of the purloined letter; but as her principal object now was to free herself from Clinton and get home, she requested him to leave her. Clinton felt a new light stream in upon his soul. He was in raptures, and so completely absorbed by the accidental discovery he had made, that he felt himself incapacitated from holding any conversation upon the subject. He then bade her good night, entered the carriage, and immediately drove home.

There is not a virtue in this world rarer or more beneficial to ourselves than candour, especially when exercised at our own expense. It is, indeed, only another name for truth, and we trust our readers are already aware that our heroine was truth itself. The next morning Maria told Miss Travers that she wished to have a few minutes' private conversation with her, as she had something, she said, very particular, if not painful, to mention. Accordingly, after breakfast, when the parlour was left to themselves, she gave her a full and complete detail of all that had occurred to her on the preceeding night, by no means suppressing the nature of the base and offensive proposals which Clinton had made to her; and whilst she dwelt upon this part of the narrative, her face flushed, and the tears of indignation streamed down her cheeks. Miss Travers seemed equally affected, but in somewhat of a different spirit, although Maria by no means understood the distinction. On the contrary, when her auditor coloured, and flapped her face with her handkerchief in a state of resentment which surpassed her own, she imputed it all to the simple and becoming sympathy of virtuous indignation. As she went on with the narrative she was in the beginning interrupted only by ejaculations, such as "Ah! -dear me,-bless my soul!" but when she came to Clinton's professions of love, and the dishonourable offers he had made her, the flame which had been smouldering broke cut, and raged with a fury which astonished even Maria herself.

"False, base, treacherous villain, to treat me thus!"

You, Miss Travers !" exclaimed Maria, struck very naturally with amazement at such words, "you! why it is of myself that I am speaking."

"Yes Maria, I know that, but it is of myself that I am thinking. That unprincipled villain,-for such I now find he is, has been in love with me for a considerable time past, and has avowed his affection for me in this very room upon his bended knees, ay, and with the tears in his eyes too."

"And what did you say to him?" asked Maria, astonished, and more than astonished, for she felt the very heart within her sink on hearing this fresh instance of her lover's profligacy.

"What did I say to him? why I told him that I would not give him an answer for some time; that I had heard unfavourable accounts of him with respect to women, but that out of consideration for his youth I would put him on his good behaviour, if I found that he reformed-had ceased to be a rake, and become a respectable moral character, I might give him an answer— upon which, Maria, he seized me in his arms, kissed me passionately, said I was his first love, (I thought of poor Thady then!) and that if he did not marry me, he would never marry another; and he did all this so rapidly and in such a state of excitement, that I had not time to prevent him."

Maria's face became the hue of ashes on hearing this exposition of Clinton's principles.

"He is indeed," she replied, "a thorough profligate." "Yes, Maria," said Miss Travers, "I now see that he is there is no doubt of that;-unfortunate and misguided youth, if he had only been constant to his first love-if he had only been

Here her feelings completely overpowered her; she sobbed and became every whit as hysterical as if every syllable of her own narrative had been truth itself. Indeed we dare say, and we do say, that her hysterics were strong precisely in proportion to its falsehood. May the sex forgive us for this bit of moral anatomy, which they wont. In fact, she completely turned the tables on Maria, who having expected sympathy from the old sempstress, found herself called upon to bestow it. She took her in her arms, held up her head, fanned her face, wiped her eyes, and kept comforting and supporting her until she gave that last peculiar and well-managed sob, which seems to bring the necessary relief, and winds up the fit. Lord help us! what a world it is,but they are all angels of some sort or other.

When the explanations on both sides were complete, Maria told her she was going out for a little, but would return in less than an hour. This in a moment excited her jealousy.

"Going out!" she exclaimed; "not to meet him I hope; you have never been in the habit of going out— at least by yourself. I insist, Maria, on knowing where you are going to."

"I am going," replied Maria, "to the Rev. Dr. Spillar, who, they say, is a learned and a pious man." "And pray, what brings you to him ?"

"To ask his advice," she replied; "to tell him what I have just told you, and to ask his protection besides, and that he might use his influence with Mr. Clinton, in order to prevent him from annoying me, or injuring my character by attempting to see or speak to me. is an easy thing to injure the character of a poor unprotected girl like me!"

It

"I hope you will say nothing about me, Maria," said Miss Travers. "But I know you are a girl of great good sense and prudence, and would mention nothing

I

to my disadvantage. Indeed, if Clinton were to renew his proposals to me to-morrow, as it is not improbable that he may, I do not think I would have him. shall never marry a false-hearted man. Ah, poor Thady! There was constancy, Maria. How soon he abandoned Ellen Comerford when he saw me-heigho!"

Maria, until this interview with Miss Travers, had believed and hoped that Clinton, notwithstanding his violence in taking her away the night before, was not altogether devoid of honour or principle. His conduct however, with respect to Miss Travers, satisfied her that he was nothing more or less than a most licentious debauchee; and although the discovery was a bitter one, yet she was glad it had been made, because it opened her eyes to his true character, and enabled her to understand his hypocrisy and falsehood, and to estimate his professions at their proper value.

On reaching Dr. Spillar's house, she was shown into the front parlour, where the learned and reverend gentleman soon joined her. We will not recapitulate the circumstances with which our readers are already acquainted, but simply say that she recited with candour, yet not without embarrassment and many blushes, the whole history of Clinton's conduct towards her. The Doctor heard her calmly, and whenever she seemed to shrink from the most painful portions of the task she had imposed on herself, he encouraged her with much kindness, and drew her gently on into a complete narrative of the truth.

"Well, my dear," said the amiable and simplehearted old gentleman, "I am very sorry to hear the tale which you have told me. I do not doubt your truth, because I read truth in every lineament of your face. I am sorry on this young man's account, but still more so upon yours. His family were honourable, generous, and high-minded; but now, may I ask why you have confided this distressing history to me ?"

Sir," she replied, " my reason for doing so is this: in the first place, if you should hear those circumstances mentioned to my disadvantage, or in any manner misrepresented to the injury of my character, that you should know the truth; and in the next, that you would be good enough to see Mr. Clinton, and to let him feel that any attempt on his part to see me or to speak to me will be of no earthly use to himself, but may be ruinous to my good name. This, sir, is the reason why I have called upon you; this, and a wish to ask you, as a pious and learned clergyman, to protect me as far as you can."

"And I shall, my poor child, as far as I can. I will see Mr. Clinton-I will reason with him, and it shall go hard or I will make him ashamed of his proceedings. Dear me, I did not expect such unjustifiable conduct as this from any of his family; but do not be alarmed, my child. I will take care that he shall not again either annoy or distress you. If my influence over him should fail, I shall see his colonel on the subject. But alas! now that I think of it, the colonel himself—an old bachelor by the way-has the reputation of being a greater profligate in that respect,