CHAPTER CXLVIII.
[Chapter 156]
THE WEDDING MORNING. —THE PROGRESS OF JUSTICE, AND THE DISCOVERY OF THE
MURDERER. —THE DISSIPATION OF A SCENE.
The days flew by, and the aspect of affairs insensibly changed. Sir
Francis Varney gradually drew over the scene such an appearance of candour and
disinterestedness, that the Frasers were delighted with the prospect of such
an alliance, and they left no means of propitiating and influencing Miss
Stevens in his favour; and they succeeded to a certain exent in stifling all
expressions of dissent, and brought her to a state of passive obedience.
She had nothing to allege against Sir Francis but her dislike to him, and
even that she felt was weaker, and the more she exerted her mind, the weaker
such impressions appeared to be; a convincing proof to her that it was a mere
blind, reasonless prejudices which it was her duty to throw off, and she
exerted herself to do so.
Thus it was she became passive in the hands of her friends; and Sir
Francis Vareny had the satisfaction of seeing that he was about to pick up a
bride at length. His pleasure knew no bounds, and his eyes glistened in a
manner, that once or twice Mary recoiled from him in terror, and she had
nearly revived her fist feelings against him.
However that might have been, he saw his error, and he conducted himself
differently afterwards; for he too well knew the effect it must have upon the
artless and beautiful young girl, whose affections he cared not to win, so
that he stifled her objections, and obtained her hand—her heart was not with
him an object.
"I think now," said Captain Fraser to Sir Francis, when they were alone—
"I think, now, Sir Francis, that we ought to come to some understanding."
"I shall be but too happy, Captain Fraser, to do so, in every sense of
the word, and upon every subject we can have in common."
"Then we shall have no difficulty in this affair."
"I hope not, I assure you."
"Well, then, Sir Francis, you desire to marry into our family?"
"Most unquestionably; my heart and fortune are at the disposal of Miss
Stevens. I care for nothing else but her—fortune, Captain Fraser, is no
object to me; I do not care for a single penny piece. I have enough for
myself."
"Money is not happiness itself," pursued the captain.
"I believe it—I feel it."
"And yet Mary is not penniless; she has her dower, though by no means a
large one; yet she has one."
"Then let the whole, whatever it may be, be safely, securely made over
for her own use, and that of her children."
"It is generous—very generous of you, Sir Francis; and your generosity
much embarrasses me, and I hardly know how to proceed with a little matter
which I deem a part of my duty to perform."
"Do not let me be an hindrance to you; I am sure I should regret it much;
besides, the more we know of each other, the greater confidence we have in
each other, provided our knowledge is of that character that will increase our
respect."
"You are quite right, Sir Francis."
"Well, captain, I hope what you are going to say, will not give me cause
to feel myself less happy than I am."
"I hope not; I believe not; but what I was about to say is a very
ordinary and common occurrence on an occasion like the present."
"Well, let me know all about it, and then the murder will be out."
"Good. We have but little more than personal communication with each
other, apart from our respective homes; and we do not know much of each other
in the ordinary acceptation of the word. I wish to know something relative to
your private affairs."
"I really cannot do so, unless you travel northward with me."
"Indeed—indeed-—"
"Stop. I can give you corroborative proof; I have none direct about me;
but I can do that much; but perhaps it will not do."
"Quite enough. I am satisfied—if you can give me corroborative proof
of what you say, and that without premeditation, it will be still stronger and
more valuable."
"If you think so, what do you say to those two letters, Captain Fraser?"
"Two letters."
"The one is from my gamekeeper, and the other is from my bailiff, who has
to overlook my property, and advise me of what was being done on the estate,
and the state of my financial affairs."
"They will do, sir, I believe."
As Captain Fraser took the two letters, he looked at the post-marks, and
saw that they were plain and readable, and the date: they had been correctly
described by Sir Francis Varney —they came from the north, and one was a
business-like letter from the bailiff, and one quite in keeping from the head
gamekeeper, both of whom mentioned many local and petty matters, that fully
bore out all that was to be expected from them.
"And do you keep up an establishment of this character, Sir Francis?"
"I do. I can afford it, and I do not like to turn the knaves adrift on
the world, who have, ever since they have been born, looked for abundance from
the soil that produced them; and I don't think I shall be justified in having
the hardness of heart to turn them off."
"You are a kind and good master."
"I wish to be so."
"And when, Sir Francis, do you intend to return there?"
"I am glad you ask the question. I should like to take my bride there to
spend the honeymoon. I wish now to leave other objects, and to get back as
soon as the ceremony is over. There I should like to take her; it would be a
rare and splendid life to lead in the old gothic mansion—as much like a
castle as anything I can describe; but an ornamented castle, of course, for I
don't mean high walls, and no windows."
"Certainly not."
"But will you assist me in obtaining her consent to a speedy union; and,
that effected, we will whirl off for the mansion, and you can follow us at
leisure. The union will, I hope and believe, be most happy."
"I hope so. I trust and believe it will."
"In the meantime, any more information or proof you can desire shall be
obtained for you. Do not be backward upon this head."
"I am quite satisfied, Sir Francis."
* * * * *
Thus Sir Francis Varney had succeeded in hoodwinking Captain Fraser and
his wife, and had now entirely subdued all shew of objection, and had so far
succeeded as to obtain a quiet and tacit consent to all he desired.
The interveiew described was reported to Mrs. Fraser and her sister, and
was considered liberal and satisfactory, and the marriage was spoken of as
likely to be immediate, which brought forth no remark from Mary, and the
matter was considered as nearly settled; the day only was to be appointed, and
that could not be very distant.
One morning as they were seated at breakfast, and that after the day had
been fixed at a greater distance of time than Sir Francis Varney liked, the
subject of the murder was again brought up, and Mrs. Fraser said, —
"There is nothing more about the murder now—is there?"
"No," replied Sir Francis; "not that I have heard of. I believe the
unfortunate man will be tried one of these days—he stands committed."
"Stop," said Captain Fraser, "here is something in the paper."
"What is in it?"
"Something more about the murder."
"What is it?" inquired Sir Francis. "I am anxious to learn if they have
done anything more, for I was sick of it, and wish to know when such a
horrible tragedy will end—the sooner it is past and forgotten, the better."
"That is true; for knowing a man is lying waiting for the hour to arrive
when he shall die a violent death, is truly terrible."
"So it is. They seem to say there is some clue to another person, of a
most remarkable appearance, who escaped through another house, and deceived
the inmates by describing a fire that was up stairs."
"Indeed! How strange," said Sir Francis.
"Yes; they say they will not publish more, lest it defeat the ends of
justice."
"Something else sprung up, I suppose?"
"No doubt. But here is something more: the prisoner will be tried in a
few days, and, if condemned, executed in a very short time."
"Then I wish that one happy marriage would come off before that time. I
am sure Mary will be wretched, and I cannot be so happy as I could wish to
be."
"Then postpone it for a few weeks."
"No, no, no; that would never do; hasten it. Besides, we should have to
pass through all the wretchedness consequent upon knowing a man—a murderer,
it is true, and perhaps two of them—that is waiting to die."
"I think myself," said Captain Fraser, "that we might, with advantage,
leave Bath before the trial takes place. It would certainly be more
comfortable."
"So it would," said Mrs. Fraser; "and, to tell the truth, I begin to get
tired of this place, beautiful as it is. In fact, I want to get to your
mansion in the north."
"Not more than I do, madam," said Sir Francis. "Will Miss Stevens permit
me to persuade her to shorten my period of probation, to escape some of the
disagreeables we have mentioned relative to this unhappy affair?"
* * * * *
The wedding morning was arrived. Sir Francis Varney had not been sparing
of his ill-gotten gains. He willingly made some handsome presents to Mrs.
Fraser and Mary Stevens; jewels were the form he gave them in; and Sir Francis
himself took care to display no small degree of ornament, and yet he appeared
to be a man, who, though wearing and having the best of all, still wore but
little ornament.
But the occasion made the change in his habit. And now the post horses
are ready at the door—ready to bear them northwards. They are at the church.
Sir Francis, and Mary Stevens leaning upon his arm, come before the altar, and
the friends of the bride were on either side of them. The clergyman was about
to read, but asked first, if any knew any causes or impediment, &., to the
marriage.
No answer was returned; when there was some bustle at the other end of
the church, and the clergy man paused to ascertain its character.
In a moment more there was a motley group of persons making towards the
altar; and foremost among these were two or three peace officers, and after
them a woman, dressed in many clothes, which added to her natural obesity.
"Ah, that's him—that's the wagabone that said my house was on fire when
it warn't; that's him as frightened me so, that I'm quite thin through it."
"Shiver my timbers, and they begin to creak a bit now—d—n the gout! —
but that's Varney, the vampyre! Who'd a thought he would always be turning up
in this way, like an old mop as nobody can use?"
Varney turned to the clergyman, and begged that these mad people might be
turned out, and, after the ceremony, he would meet any proper accusation at a
proper time and place; but he showed his anger so strongly, that Mary shrank
from him; while the two officers demanded him as a prisoner.
The clergyman yielded; and Sir Francis, striking the officer near him
down, made a rush at a side door, and escaped.
The fact was, there had been more than one doubt about the murder; and
Sir Francis had been followed to the hotel the night of the murder by one of
the waiters, who came up behind him. They took his shoes, and found they were
bloody; and all things beign traced home to him, it was agreed to capture him
at home; but he had left for the church, when the officers followed him. Old
Admiral Bell, who was gouty, happened to see him pass, and determined to
unmask him, which he did.
—