Chapter XXII

THE HON. MRS. BULLIVANT TO CAPTAIN FERRIS.

"My dear Wilton," wrote Mrs. Bullivant to her half-brother a couple of days subsequently to the events recorded in the last chapter, "I have some very singular news for you which I lose no time in communicating; but whether--bearing in mind the peculiar features of the case--you will be inclined to stigmatize it as bad news or to bless it as good, seems to me somewhat problematical, and I at once confess that I am myself at a loss to know in which light to regard it.

"Although my disappointment in the matter of Mr. Cortelyon's will was so extreme as almost for a time to drive me beyond myself, and to stir up within me feelings and passions to which I had been a stranger aforetime, and although I took a silent oath that, come what might, I would be revenged for what I then regarded, and still regard, as the vile trick of which I was made the victim; yet am I inclined to think that had it not been for your persistent fanning of the flame which just then burnt so fiercely within me, my passion would gradually have cooled down, my reason would have again found its equipoise, and I should never have given my sanction to a certain step, the rashness and futility of which I recognized almost from the moment of agreeing to it.

"Mind, in writing this I am not imputing any blame to you; or, if there is any, we share it on equal terms. Your own disappointment was bitter enough in all conscience to goad you on to do things from which, at another time and in your calmer moments, you would have turned away as being not merely useless, but impolitic.

"From the moment you placed young Cortelyon in my hands my almost insane longing to be revenged for the foul wrong his grandfather had done me slackened and grew faint, and I recognized with overwhelming clearness what a blunder we had made and with what a burden I had saddled myself. Now that I had got the child into my keeping what was I to do with him? There was the rub. As for carrying out the dark hint you one day let drop--only by way of trying me, I feel sure, and with no thought that I would agree to act on it--as you know, I shrank from it aghast. I have a child of my own, and I could not forget it; and, little cause as I had to love young C., whatever else might happen to him his life was absolutely safe so long as he remained under my roof. But the perplexing question of how to dispose of him was one which allowed me no rest.

"As you are aware, from the date of the lad's arrival at Homecroft I put him into the sole charge of Mrs. Balchin (whom, as I have good reason for knowing, I can thoroughly trust), and kept him wholly secluded from the rest of the household, for whose benefit I invented a little fable explanatory of my reasons for acting as I did, but to what extent they believed it I have no means of knowing.

"If I had been uncomfortable before, you may imagine what effect your letter had on me in which you informed me that a reward of five hundred pounds was offered for the recovery of the missing heir. For the next few days I was like a distracted woman, turning over in my mind a dozen schemes, each one more wild and impracticable than the last.

"Then, all at once, the black clouds opened and a way of escape lay clear before me.

"As I daresay you may remember, not only Mrs. Balchin, but her husband, is in my service, the latter having acted as my coachman ever since my marriage. Well, a few mornings ago Balchin received a letter from a firm of lawyers in New York informing him that a legacy equivalent to five hundred pounds of English money had been left him by an uncle lately deceased, but that it would be requisite for him to go over to the States, and be prepared to prove his identity, before the money could be paid him. When he came to me and showed me his letter, and told me all this, I could have found it in my heart to embrace him.

"Can you guess, _mon cher frère_, what were the first words I said to myself? They were these: 'Balchin's wife shall keep him company on the voyage, and with them they shall take young Cortelyon. _But they shall come back alone?_

"There is no need to trouble you with details. It will be enough to state that by the evening of the second day after Balchin's receipt of the letter all arrangements had been made, and the little party of three were ready to start. They were to have the use of my carriage as far as Tuxford, where they would join the night coach for the south on their way to Liverpool, from which port they would sail by the first available packet for New York, Balchin is a capable man, and I had no fear about his failing to carry out the instructions laid down for him. Of course the expenses of the journey, so far as his wife and the child were concerned, were to be defrayed by me.

"I ought to mention here that I had often heard Mrs. Balchin refer to her numerous clan of cousins in America, and when I put the case before her she readily engaged, for a hundred pounds paid down, to get the boy permanently adopted by one of them. As you know, I could ill spare any such sum, but I would have made a still greater sacrifice rather than let the opportunity go by of ridding myself of what had latterly become the incubus of my life.

"The clocks were striking nine when they started, which would leave them an hour and a-half for the journey to Tuxford. Balchin was on the box, with the stable-boy beside him, whom it was necessary to take in order that he might bring back the carriage. Inside were Mrs. Balchin and the child, the latter soundly asleep under the influence of a narcotic. You can but faintly imagine with what an intense feeling of relief I watched the carriage disappear in the soft darkness of the autumn night.

"You will be wondering by this time as to the nature of the singular news which I began this letter by telling you I had to communicate. You shall now be told it, what I have written so far being merely the needful introduction thereto.

"Imagine, then, if you can, my feelings of mingled amazement and alarm when, shortly after ten o'clock, my maid came to tell me that the carriage had just returned, and that Balchin was very anxious to speak to me. I ordered him to be at once admitted, and the moment I set eyes on his face I knew that something had gone amiss, although the mere fact of his presence there was enough to convince me on that point.

"Without giving him time to speak, I said quickly: 'Where is the child? Nothing has happened to him I hope?'

"'Only this, ma'am, that we've been robbed of him,' was his reply.

"And so it proved to be. As they were crossing Blaydon Heath they had been stopped by a masked horseman carrying a pistol in one hand and a small lantern in the other, who had bidden Balchin bring the carriage to a halt, on pain of instant death. Naturally the man was much frightened, seeing that in his wife's purse was not merely the passage-money for all three, but the hundred pounds given by me for the purpose just named. But in that respect his fears proved to be unfounded. Riding up to the carriage window, the horseman first turned his lantern full on Mrs. Balchin and then on the face of the sleeping child. 'As I thought, madam, as I thought,' he said. 'I find you here in possession of property which does not belong to you. With your good pleasure I will relieve you of it. Nay, no demur, or you will find it the worse for you. Child-stealing, allow me to remind you, is a crime punishable with a long term of transportation. Hand the boy over to me at once, and thank your lucky stars that you are allowed to escape so easily.'

"What could the woman do but comply? Indeed, as she has since told me, she was nearly frightened out of her wits. Without dismounting, the horseman opened the carriage door, and the child, still sleeping soundly, was transferred to him. Placing the boy in front of him, with one arm round him, he backed his horse from the carriage, and then addressing Balchin, said, 'You can drive back home, and when you get there give my compliments to your mistress--the compliments of Captain Nightshade--and tell her she ought to go down on her knees and thank me for having saved her from the consequences of a most shameful crime.' With that he waved his hand, set spur to his horse, and cantered off.

"Such was the story brought back by Balchin.

"Captain Nightshade, I must tell you, is a notorious highwayman who for two or three years past has been the terror of this part of England. For the last six or seven months, however, nothing has been heard of him, and everybody was hoping that he had seen fit to transfer his attentions elsewhere.

"Now, tell me this if you can. How did he, of all people in the world, succeed in discovering that young C. was hidden under my roof, and that he was about to be smuggled away at that particular time? It is a question which the oftener I ask it, the more bewildered I become. Somebody must have acted the part of spy and traitor, but who is that somebody? and through what mysterious channel did he or she succeed in communicating my intentions to the highwayman? I have my suspicions in the matter, but I refrain from inflicting them upon you.

"Captain Nightshade's motive in getting hold of the boy is as plain as a pikestaff. He will restore him to his friends, and claim the reward offered for his recovery.

"And after such an ignominious fashion has the scheme of revenge hatched by you, and in a weak moment acceded to by me, collapsed and crumbled to pieces. That I should ever have allowed myself to be mixed up with any such affair seems to me, writing now, wholly inconceivable; but it merely serves to prove to what lengths a woman will go when blinded by passion, spite, and the overthrow of her most cherished hopes.

"Somehow, I have not much fear that the friends of young C., even should the facts of the case be made known to them, will take any further steps in the affair. They will not, I am quite sure, if Miss Baynard has any say in the affair. I could love that girl, Wilton, were it in my nature to love anybody. And to think that not a shilling of her great-uncle's wealth will come to her! It is most shameful.

"But enough, I am tired, and must leave till another day my answers to certain questions which you ask in your last letter.

"Your affectionate sister,

"Onoria Bullivant."