his eyes rested on me with a look of downright terror.
'No more of that!' he said. 'I won't talk of the girls' ages even with you.'
What did he mean? It was useless to ask. I went on with the matter in hand—still deliberately speaking to him, as I might have spoken to a man with an intellect as clear as my own. In my experience, this practice generally stimulates a weak intelligence to do its best. We all know how children receive talk that is lowered, or books that are lowered, to their presumed level. 'I shall take it for granted,' I continued, 'that Miss Helena is still under your lawful authority. She can only arrive at her ends by means of a runaway marriage. In that case, much depends on the man. You told me you couldn't help liking him. This was, of course, before you knew of the infamous manner in which he has behaved. You must have changed your opinion now.'
He seemed to be at a loss how to reply. 'I am afraid,' he said, 'the young man was drawn into it by Helena.'
Here was Miss Jillgall's apology for Philip Dunboyne repeated in other words. Despising and detesting the fellow as I did, I was forced to admit to myself that he must be recommended by personal attractions which it would be necessary to reckon with. I tried to get some more information from Mr. Gracedieu.
'The excuse you have just made for him,' I resumed, 'implies that he is a weak man; easily persuaded, easily led.'
The Minister answered by nodding his head.
'Such weakness as that,' I persisted, 'is a vice in itself. It has led already, sir, to the saddest results.'
He admitted this by another nod.
'I don't wish to shock you, Mr. Gracedieu; but I must recommend employing the means that present themselves. You must practice on this man's weakness, for the sake of the good that may come of it. I hear he is in London with his father. Try the strong influence, and write to his father. There is another reason besides for doing this. It is quite possible that the truth has been concealed from Mr. Dunboyne the elder. Take care that he is informed of what has really happened. Are you looking for pen, ink, and paper? Let me offer you the writing materials which I use in traveling.'
I placed them before him. He took up the pen; he arranged the paper; he was eager to begin.
After writing a few words, he stopped—reflected—tried again—stopped again—tore up the little that he had done—and began a new letter, ending in the same miserable result. It was impossible to witness his helplessness, to see how pitiably patient he was over his own incapacity, and to let the melancholy spectacle go on. I proposed to write the letter; authenticating it, of course, by his signature. When he allowed me to take the pen, he turned away his face, ashamed to let me see what he suffered. Was this the same man, whose great nature had so nobly asserted itself in the condemned cell? Poor mortality!
The letter was easily written.
I had only to inform Mr. Dunboyne of his son's conduct; repeating, in the plainest language that I could use, what Miss Jillgall had related to me. Arrived at the conclusion, I contrived to make Mr. Gracedieu express himself in these strong terms: 'I protest against the marriage in justice to you, sir, as well as to myself. We can neither of us content to be accomplices in an act of domestic treason of the basest kind.'
In silence, the Minister read the letter, and attached his signature to it. In silence, he rose and took my arm. I asked if he wished to go to his room. He only replied by a sign. I offered to sit with him, and try to cheer him. Gratefully, he pressed my hand: gently, he put me back from the door. Crushed by the miserable discovery of the decay of his own faculties! What could I do? what could I say? Nothing!
Miss Jillgall was in the drawing-room. With the necessary explanations, I showed her the letter. She read it with breathless interest. 'It terrifies one to think how much depends on old Mr. Dunboyne,' she said. 'You know him. What sort of man is he?'
I could only assure her (after what I remembered of his letter to me) that he was a man whom we could depend upon.
Miss Jillgall possessed treasures of information to which I could lay no claim. Mr. Dunboyne, she told me, was a scholar, and a writer, and a rich man. His views on marriage were liberal in the extreme. Let his son find good principles, good temper, and good looks, in a wife, and he would promise to find the money.
'I get these particulars,' said Miss Jillgall, 'from dear Euneece. They are surely encouraging? That Helena may carry out Mr. Dunboyne's views in her personal appearance is, I regret to say, what I can't deny. But as to the other qualifications, how hopeful is the prospect! Good principles, and good temper? Ha! ha! Helena has the principles of Jezebel, and the temper of Lady Macbeth.'
After dashing off this striking sketch of character, the fair artist asked to look at my letter again, and observed that the address was wanting. 'I can set this right for you,' she resumed, 'thanks, as before, to my sweet Euneece. And (don't be in a hurry) I can make myself useful in another way. Oh, how I do enjoy making myself useful! If you trust your letter to the basket in the hall, Helena's lovely eyes—capable of the meanest conceivable actions—are sure to take a peep at the address. In that case, do you think your letter would get to London? I am afraid you detect a faint infusion of spitefulness in that question. Oh, for shame! I'll post the letter myself.'
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SHAMELESS SISTER.
For some reason, which my unassisted penetration was unable to discover, Miss Helena Gracedieu kept out of my way.
At dinner, on the day of my arrival, and at breakfast on the next morning, she was present of course; ready to make herself agreeable in a modest way, and provided with the necessary supply of cheerful small-talk. But the meal having come to an end, she had her domestic excuse ready, and unostentatiously disappeared like a well-bred young lady. I never met her on the stairs, never found myself intruding on her in the drawing-room, never caught her getting out of my way in the garden. As much at a loss for an explanation of these mysteries as I was, Miss Jillgall's interest in my welfare led her to caution me in a vague and general way.
'Take my word for it, dear Mr. Governor, she has some design on you. Will you allow an insignificant old maid to offer a suggestion? Oh, thank you; I will venture to advise. Please look back at your experience of the very worst female prisoner you ever had to deal with—and be guided accordingly if Helena catches you at a private interview.'
