Chapter XII

And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Haply to wive and thrive as I may best.
SHAKSPEARE.

It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable
sequestration.

Once on shore, while pausing to recover himself, he gazed with a proud feeling of satisfaction on the still insensible being whom he had thus providentially rescued; for Carter had been engaged in too many frays not to know that the wound was not in itself dangerous, though a severe one; but he also knew enough of the comrades he had just left to feel certain that upon the first confirmation of the report of a revenue cutter nearing them, which he had heard just as he was jumping overboard, a second blow, more sure, would inevitably have fallen on their already half-lifeless victim: and, tied in a sack with stones, he would too surely have sought the bottom, to prevent the possibility of his bearing witness against them.

As soon as Harry Carter was sufficiently recovered again to take up the motionless body, which as yet showed no symptom of returning life, he made at once for a lone hut in a cleft between two rocks, from which an almost impassable road led up into the open country.

Here, as he expected, he found a light cart in the charge of one of the loose characters who were in league with the smugglers, and whom he had directed to meet him there on that evening so provided, in case “_La Pie voleuse_” should have chanced to bring, as part of her cargo, any smaller articles of more value, which might as well have been removed, under the cover of the darkness, to one of those most complete of all possible devices for concealment which are found in the centre of a populous town.

His confidant was not a little surprised when he beheld him bearing, as he thought, a corpse, instead of, as he had expected, lace gloves or ladies’ shoes.

“I say, messmate, holloa!” he cried out, “this is no go, if you’ve been after a burking job here. You told me I was to carry light articles, and you fig me off with a stiff ’un. I was never in the mole-catching line myself, and shouldn’t like to be twigged grubbing.”

“Hold your peace, you lubber,” said Carter, “the man’s not dead, nor like to die; and if he doesn’t, this will turn out the best job you ever did yet of all your days. If you’ll only just carry him to yon place where we were to have taken t’other things, you’ll have earned as good a brace of RAGS, as sure as your name’s John Smutt; and perhaps ten times as many more, if you’re only just mum a bit, and don’t say a word about all this, if we find he wishes you not.”

“Oh! I’ll say nout aboot it. The objections are all about doing it; once done, there’ll be little to be gained, I take, to either of us, by having it blowed. But, let us feel:--why, his fin moved--sure enough, he’s alive. Well, that’s another guess sort of case, certainly; so I’ll just pop him in here, where he’ll lie as snug as possible; and I only hope he’ll live to think of that hush-money you talk about. What’s it?--ten times ten. Why, that’s a hundred pounds. A hundred pounds!!”

The journey thus arranged was performed expeditiously, and without observation, in the covered cart; and by break of day they reached the large inland town, to which they were bound. Here, in the first instance, Castleton was conveyed to an obscure lodging, as Carter thought that there he would be better concealed, till with returning consciousness he might himself be consulted, how far he wished his late adventure to be known. It will at once be seen, that if Castleton was not anxious that it should be made the subject of enquiry, the less that was said about it the better for Carter himself, who was now rather in an awkward position with both the parties in any investigation that might be undertaken.

The contusion on the temple, which was Castleton’s principal injury, though a severe one, quickly progressed towards recovery, under the anxious care of his present attendant; and he now suffered most from the weakness ensuing from loss of blood, by a cut which he had also received in his fall.

His faculties were, after a time, perfectly restored; and upon recognising Carter, and ascertaining the particulars of his escape, his gratitude to his deliverer knew no bounds. His first step was to have himself moved to a more decent lodging, still without assuming his own name, and to confirm Carter’s bargain with his confederate, of a hundred pounds, upon condition of his saying nothing about the sort of cargo his cart had contained. This sum was to be paid in six months, provided that at the end of the time nothing was known about the adventure; a remote date for payment being suggested by Carter, who thought that his acquaintance would be more easily constrained by future expectation than by past favours; and in this Castleton acquiesced, being very anxious, for a variety of mixed reasons, that his late adventure should not be made the subject of gossip.

When almost recovered from the effects of his late accident, Henry Carter one day brought him the circumstantial account of the arrest of George Darnell and the gang of smugglers, and of their committal, George as his murderer, and the others as accessaries after the fact. Castleton could not for a moment doubt what ought to be his conduct under such circumstances: at once to show himself to the authorities, who had entertained the charge, and to state the facts of the case; bearing, as he did, in his own living person the only utterly incontrovertible evidence against the truth of such an accusation. But it was not so easy for him to make up his mind to take this step, as to convince himself that it was what he ought to do; and he at length succeeded in persuading his reason, that, peculiarly situated as he was, there were very good excuses (he went no farther than that) for his adopting a different line of conduct.

He had ulterior, and, as he thought, truly beneficial views for the parties most interested, in his decision of this question; and he felt his pride would prevent him from maintaining his present intentions, if a public disclosure of all the facts was to take place. The sight of Lucy’s agony at his sufferings, and her energetic interference on his behalf on the beach, hallowed as that impression had been by his again relapsing into death-like insensibility, had removed any lingering doubts he had entertained as to making her his wife; and that was now the object nearest his heart. His principal notion in assuming the disguise, and seeking Bankside Farm, in execution of the project he had formed, was to be himself sure that the person who could, in such an assumed character, win her affections, must be loved for himself alone, and that he might then enjoy the happy consciousness that his bride had not been influenced in her preference of him, by any of the outward advantages of his worldly situation: advantages which he had found not without their influence upon women even in the highest rank. Yet this was a satisfaction which he wished as much as possible to keep to himself. Indeed he did not feel sure that the success of the very object he had in view would appear to the fashionable denizens of the world so self-evident, if they were merely made acquainted with the simple facts of the case. They would be apt, without enquiring into the way in which he might have won her affections, to imagine it just possible, if they knew from how low a rank in life he had raised the future Lady Castleton, that she might be influenced in her acceptance of him by those extraneous advantages of fortune, which must certainly have as much weight with her, as with those who, from want of contrast, could not be expected to value them even so highly as the low-born peasant. It was, therefore, no part of his scheme, that it should ever be precisely known in the world who Lady Castleton had been; and in directing his steps a second time towards Morden Bay, he was much decided by thinking, that if further observation there confirmed his early recollections, not only the peculiarly delicate and refined nature of Lucy’s beauty might, unquestioned, bear transplanting into any rank in life, but from the very secluded spot where she had been brought up, and the retired habits of her parents, her former home need never be traced, even by the prying and the curious. All these were conditional accompaniments of his scheme, without which he would never have formed it originally; and without which, even now, desperately in love with Lucy as he was, or thought he was, he would still hesitate as to its accomplishment. And yet all these encouraging considerations were threatened with complete overthrow, if, by discovering himself, in order to procure George’s release, he was obliged to disclose any circumstance of his late adventures. The very extraordinary nature of the facts he would have to relate, coupled, as they would be, with his own well-known name, would immediately circulate the wonderful tale in every shape of paragraph, pamphlet, and perhaps ballad. Then the numberless jokes which would be circulated, about the supposed rivalry between “The Noble Lord” and “The Smuggler Cousin,” to which the facts of the case, when disclosed, would give more than a plausible appearance of truth! Then that very lawless lad, with all the innuendoes about doubtful preference between them, was to be his cousin. His cousin! A convicted smuggler! For though his own appearance would free him from the charge of wilful murder, the revenue prosecutions would only be confirmed by the publicity thus given to the transactions in which they had originated; whereas, if by any other means the danger from the first prosecution for murder could be averted, without his being obliged to appear himself ostensibly in it, he did not despair subsequently, by the exertion of his interest indirectly, to procure the other to be dropped, at least as against George and the crew. As all these considerations passed in succession through his mind, they might have kept him undecided how to act; but the increased force of his attachment to Lucy, craving, urgent, and engrossing as it then was, if it still could not be dignified with the name of love, in its most exalted sense, impelled him to take the course most likely to get the better of these difficulties, which he foresaw might yet interfere to prevent his making her his wife.

He, therefore, sent for his confidential man of business, to whom he told all, and from whom he was happy to hear that the conceited carelessness with which Mr. Spencer had perverted all the facts which had been prepared for him in the examination before the magistrate, rendered it most probable that an acquittal might be easily procured without his being obliged to disclose himself; and his lawyer having, in consequence, been entrusted with the management of the defence, Lord Castleton entered the court with the intention of only coming forward himself as a last resource.