University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

The literati of London still continued occasionally
to discuss the question relating to the paternity
of the two popular tales which had set the reading
world agog; and many were the inquiries into the
cause which induced the pen of the unknown author
to remain idle, when fame and fortune were waiting
on his nod. After he left the party at Mr. Courtenay's
mansion, on the evening before mentioned, the
question seriously arose in his mind whether he
should not doff the mask, and in his proper person
wear the honours which the literary public had
awarded to the incognito; but the appearance of
Ellingbourne's double, and the depressing incident
in the trial which disclosed the infamy of his parent,
dispelled the incipient desire for notoriety.

That he would still attract attention notwithstanding
the stigma of his birth, he did not doubt, but the
applause of the good—the fellowship of the refined—
the sympathies of the gifted, would be withheld; and
what would he gain but the gaping wonder of the
vulgar throng? These considerations deterred
him also from attempting for the present any new
effort in the walks of literature; and when the unfortunate
issue of his visit to the imprisoned robber
severed the hope of learning the particulars of his
early history, the death-knell of his hopes, enterprize
and ambition, appeared to sound audibly in his ears.
What mystery could surround his birth and infancy
was more than he could conjecture, but it was evident
from the anxiety of the dying criminal, that it
was of the most vital importance to his happiness
that it should be disclosed. Night after night would
he lie on his pillow, imagining every possible contingency
that could have happened to prevent his
knowledge of his real birth and parentage, and at
the last he was obliged to confess the little probability
that any disclosure would remove the stigma that
rested on his name as the offspring of a suicide and
a murderer. From this theme he would revert to
his love for Julia, and although at times his confidence
in her firmness and affection remained unshaken,
yet he shuddered at the bare possibility of
his being deluded. For several days he had scarcely
left his room, so reluctant was he to mingle with
the crowd who could so little enter into or sympathize

with his feelings—but the morning was so inviting—
the clear sky and cheerful sun so calmly united in
wooing him from his solitude, that he arranged his
dress with some little care, and sauntered forth without
precisely determining in what direction to shape
his course. Dreamy and abstracted, his footsteps
traversed a considerable distance from his lodgings
before he reflected on the subject of his peregrinations
abroad, and how much longer he might have continued
unconsciously to wander it is impossible to
say, if the inspiring notes of a full band of music
had not by their martial melody aroused his listless
thoughts from their reveries. As the regimental
band wheeled into a broad avenue which communicated
with a spacious square, the helmets and glittering
uniforms of platoon after platoon of British
infantry, cavalry, and artillery sparkled in the sunbeam,
while their waving plumes, and the prancing
steeds and showy equipments of their officers, formed
an imposing scene to one who, like Clifton, had never
before beheld the admirable discipline, and gallant
bearing of the brave soldiery of the fast-anchored
isle. On inquiry he learned that the troops were to
be reviewed by the king in person, and as several
brigades were to assemble on the occasion, he determined
to join the immense crowd of spectators whom
the presence of royalty and the splendid military
spectacle had attracted to the scene. A neighbouring
gallery, which had been erected to accommodate
those who chose to pay for the privilege of obtaining
a full view of the array, was selected as a proper
station, and he accordingly obtained a seat on the
front bench, which was but little elevated above the
heads of the cavalry, and overlooked a broad avenue
along whose gravelled centre the private equipages
of the nobility and gentry were continually passing
and repassing. On either side of the avenue, pedestrians
were loitering—some peering most inquisitively
into the splendid coaches of the aristocracy—
others directing their attention to the evolutions of
the military; while the more eager and anxious
majority rapidly cast their eyes from side to side, as
if apprehensive that a portion of the brilliant display
might escape their notice. At length the cry of
“the king”—“his majesty,” came swelling on the
ear from voices in the distance, and soon the earth
shook with the welcoming shouts of the enthusiastic
populace on his near approach. Although Clifton's
republican sentiments prevented his viewing the
attributes of royalty with that profound respect which
actuated the subjects of the British king, he yet
could not avoid being favourably impressed with the
frank and manly countenance and venerable aspect
of the benevolent monarch. Happily the prejudices
of the people of America and Great Britain had become
dissipated by mutual intercourse and the interchange
of good offices, and Clifton looked therefore
on the institutions of England as subject to the
control of her own citizens, and as national peculiarities
with whose structure or defects he had no right
to intermeddle. At length the royal review was
ended, and the numerous regiments moved again
into marching order, and with stately steps and erect
carriage retired from the scene whose chief attraction
was dispelled by their absence. As Clifton was preparing
to descend from the gallery, an open landau
attracted his attention, and as it came near and
made a partial halt, to his astonishment and joy, he
beheld Mr. and Mrs. Borrowdale on the back seat
directly facing him, while the slender form of a female
and the more robust figure of a gentleman
occupied the front seat, and of course their backs
were towards him. For a moment the pulsations
of his heart were suspended, his brain reeled, and he
almost fell from his seat, and before he entirely recovered
his self-possession, the carriage was in motion,
and as it passed directly beneath him, he perceived
that he was recognized by Mr. Borrowdale,
who however gave no token that he was noticed;
as he watched the receding vehicle, he perceived
that the lady in front was his adored Julia, and that
the gentleman at her side seemed to pay her the
most assiduous and respectful attention!

That she had not observed him was evident, but
the cause was found in her eager solicitude to catch
every word that fell from the lips of the gallant by
her side. Who could he be? Was he her admirer?
Was he not already her husband? The rapid motion
of the carriage had prevented him from closely
scanning the features of either Julia or the stranger,

and therefore could but conjecture the probable
nature of their intercourse; but what lover ever yet
entered into the realms of conjecture, while under
the sway of jealousy, whose fancy did not run a tilt
with rivalry and despair?

While Julia was in another hemisphere, the impossibility
of any communication passing between
them trained his mind to a partial quiescence in the
decrees of an inevitable destiny; but the thought
that she was now in the same city with himself, perhaps
residing in an adjoining street, and almost
within the sound of his voice, without his being
enabled to communicate his unalterable love, his
deep devotion:—the idea was madness. His first
impulse was after descending from the gallery to call
a hackney coach, and endeavour to track the carriage
of Mr. Borrowdale to its destination; but independent
of the improbability of his tracing them
in the crowd of vehicles, his pride revolted at the
attempt to force himself on that gentleman's attention,
after he had refused to tender him any token
of recognition.

In this mood he retraced his steps to his lodgings,
occupying the hours that should have been sacred
to repose, in imagining every possible cause for Julia's
attention to the gentleman at her side, and at last
compelled by fatigue and anxiety to enter the land
of dreams, without arriving nearer a satisfactory
solution than when he first rested his head on his
pillow.