CHAPTER XV.
Shakspeare.
Lord Latimer had much difficulty in obtaining admittance to Oakley. The servants said that their master had returned home, but had retired to his library, and given directions that he should not be disturbed. However, upon Lord Latimer’s insisting that they should take in his name, this was at length done; and very shortly afterwards he was ushered into the library—a long, low, gloomy-looking apartment, at one end of which Oakley was seated, busily engaged in writing. He rose to receive Lord Latimer, and, motioning him to a chair, said: “I presume, my lord, that you come on the part of Mr. Fitzalbert—if so, and there is any thing else to arrange, you will oblige me by communicating with my friend, Mr. Sandford.”
“You mistake: it is on my own part I come, and it is with yourself that I wish to communicate.”
“I own you surprise me: perhaps then some other time will answer your purpose: at present I am engaged on very particular business.”
“It is on that very business that I wish to speak to you.”
“That can hardly be—uninvited by me, unauthorized by the other party——”
“My character,” said Lord Latimer, avoiding a direct answer, “does not often lead me to undertake the management of other people’s concerns; on the contrary, I oftener neglect even my own: but, at the risk of being reckoned officious, I cannot allow this affair to proceed further without doing my utmost to prevent it. It is a very foolish business, Mr. Oakley.”
“Allow me to ask you, my lord, from whom you have derived the account of this foolish business?”
“From Mr. Fitzalbert.”
“Then you can hardly expect me to agree with you in an opinion of it which you derive from such a source.”
“You have not lived much in the world, Mr. Oakley; I have; and nobody who knows me will suspect that if I thought your honour at all concerned in the prosecution of this affair, I would put any impediment in the way of it; rather would I do all in my power to bring it as speedily as possible to its inevitable conclusion: but I cannot think it necessary that you should bind yourself down to maintain a few hasty words spoken in a moment of irritation, and probably without very accurately weighing their import.”
“But this is not exactly the case. Circumstances led me irresistibly to give my real opinion of Mr. Fitzalbert. It is not often in the intercourse of society that one is called to do so of any man; but having chosen to avail myself of an opportunity in this instance, I certainly shall not retract it. And having said thus much, I think, my lord, it cannot be unexpected by you, if I ask what has so suddenly given your lordship an interest in my concerns?”
“I thought you might have guessed the source of that interest, which undoubtedly must otherwise appear extraordinary. Lady Latimer has a friend, Mr. Oakley, at present staying with us, on whose account I hoped to-morrow to have seen you on a different footing, having been deputed to announce to you the termination of her mourning. If you ask what it is that brings me here now, it is anxiety for her happiness, which I would not see wantonly hazarded.”
“That is a part of the subject on which I have endeavoured to avoid thinking,” said Oakley, after a deep sigh.
“And why so? Were the quarrel unavoidable, I should be the last person to bring forward this or any other topic which might unman you; but I cannot endure that rather than own yourself in the wrong, when you most undoubtedly are so, you should run the risk of rendering her miserable for life, who has already had sorrows enough.”
Lord Latimer stopped—and there was a long pause of anxious expectation on his part, and an evident agitation on that of Oakley, who, at length, in a softened tone inquired: “What then is the course which you recommend?”
“It is a state of things which appears to me to offer no alternative: the same line of conduct which, if I was already acting for Fitzalbert, as I perhaps shall be, I should then deem satisfactory to him, is the only one which, in sincere goodwill, I should recommend to you to adopt—to disclaim most distinctly any allusion to him in the discreditable insinuations you let fall, and to apologize for those hasty expressions which afterwards gave a colour to such an application of your words.”
“That is quite out of the question!” Oakley warmly exclaimed; “humble myself before him?—Never!”
“It is certainly not pleasant to own one’s self in the wrong, but it is better than to continue so—knowing and not acknowledging it. The fault originated with you.”
“But I do not consider myself to have been in the wrong. What I said of Fitzalbert is what I really think.”
“On what grounds do you rest that opinion? Have you any proofs?”
“Proofs?—not perhaps any positive facts—but besides the enormous sums lost by Germain within a year, of which Fitzalbert has won by much the largest portion——”
“That will not do,” interrupted Lord Latimer, provoked at Oakley’s attempting to draw an inference which he thought so monstrous: “you yourself must perceive at once there is no argument in that.”
“Well, perhaps not. I do not mean to insist upon it; but to come to the point at once—whether I was thoroughly justified in saying what I did without some proof which I could bring forward, it is now useless to discuss. Confirmed and credited or not, my opinion still remains the same; and to say that I did not mean Mr. Fitzalbert in what I said, is a falsehood to which I never will stoop, and therefore——”
“One moment—will it alter your opinion, and consequently your conduct, if I state to you, that having known Fitzalbert all my life as fond of play and generally successful, I give you my honour I believe him to be incapable of any thing ungentlemanlike?”
“That is a point which I had rather not discuss with you. It is a test by which you must excuse me if I decline to try my opinion. It is sufficient that if I were to attempt to say I did not mean any attack upon Fitzalbert, my look would belie my words, and I should degrade myself without being believed. This being the case, I have only to return you my most sincere thanks for your kind intentions, reminding you at the same time that there can be no use in pressing the matter further.”
At this hint Lord Latimer slowly and unwillingly rose to depart, saying: “I am very sorry, Mr. Oakley, that we part thus: when next we meet I shall probably be employed by Fitzalbert. I would enter into no engagement till I had endeavoured to accommodate matters on my own responsibility. Having failed in this, and feeling that Fitzalbert has been subjected by you to odious imputations upon his character, which I utterly disbelieve, I cannot, without gross injustice, refuse to accompany him. When there, it will be my endeavour to keep the door open for accommodation to the last moment, hoping that you may see reason to alter your unfortunate determination; and then I shall accept that as satisfactory to Fitzalbert, which I beg leave earnestly to repeat to you as the best advice I can give as a gentleman and a man of the world.” Oakley shook his head, but parted with Lord Latimer with more cordiality than an hour before he would have thought it possible he could have felt towards him.
When Lord Latimer returned to the Club, he communicated to Fitzalbert his vain attempt to bring Oakley to reason, without, however, dwelling fully upon the obstinacy he had shown. “Oh!” said Fitzalbert, “I don’t desire the man’s life; only let him make me an explicit apology before Sir Gregory Greenford, who was present, and write by the first Lisbon mail to my friend, the major, who is off for Portugal, to say that he has done so, and I am satisfied; but he must unsay every word of it, or by the powers that made him, I shall certainly shoot him!”
Lord Latimer shuddered as he recollected the consummate skill of the person who said this.
When Oakley was left to himself, it was in vain that he endeavoured to banish from his mind those considerations which had been pressed upon his attention by Lord Latimer. His attempts to do so were considerably impeded by his finding it impossible even to satisfy himself with his own conduct in the affair. He had been so long accustomed to view Fitzalbert personally with dislike, and to think of his character with distrust, that in his own opinion he had set him down as little better than a sharper. But in vain he now attempted to fix upon any ostensible grounds for such an imputation—and was he to risk his own life, and attempt that of his adversary, in the obstinate support of a mere suspicion? This was a state of things to which he could not look forward with satisfaction, and yet the alternative was one which he could never adopt—to be forced to assert that he meant no allusion to Fitzalbert in those insinuations which he felt that those who had heard him must still remain convinced could bear no other construction, and which, had they been in themselves doubtful, had been rendered more obvious by the angry altercation which followed. And was he then to submit to be branded in the eyes of the world as one who had maliciously hazarded groundless accusations, and afterwards wanted courage to support them?
This last consideration was conclusive; and though he could not contemplate the situation in which he had placed himself without some self-reproach, as well as uneasiness, he no longer had any doubts as to the inevitable course he must pursue.
Neither of the principals passed so restless a night as Lord Latimer. He could not at all combat his melancholy forebodings as to how different a day the morrow might prove to those he had left behind at Wimbledon, from that which they fondly anticipated. His mind always required some object of interest to occupy it, and during his present pecuniary difficulties, and his consequent retirement from those gay scenes whose excitement had always been at his command, his attention had been much engrossed by the unexpected prospects of Helen, for whom he felt a sincere regard.
When he received Fitzalbert’s note, guessing the sort of business on which he was summoned, he had made his own affairs, at that time naturally requiring much of his attention, an excuse for going to town, stating that he should not return till the morning.
“And then, mind,” said Lady Latimer, “I shall not forgive you unless you bring Mr. Oakley back with you.” Helen said nothing; but the expression of her countenance as Lady Latimer said this, still recurred to him every time he attempted to compose himself to sleep.
Wimbledon Common had been mentioned between Oakley and Fitzalbert, as the appointed place of meeting. Heavily the morning dawned which was to light them on their cheerless way. The air was cold and chill, and a fog, unusually thick for the time of year, gathered round their carriages, and almost impeded their progress. Little communication passed between Oakley and Mr. Sanford. The latter was always rather afraid of Oakley; and embarrassed at the task he had undertaken, which he had only accepted from not knowing how to refuse, and which Oakley would never have asked of him but from accidentally meeting him, and not knowing how, at such short notice, to procure another second.
Fitzalbert was much more amusing than Lord Latimer, yet the flow of his fun was not so natural as usual; for, even to the coolest, it is no exhilarating destination. “The last time I was up at this unconscionable hour it was just such another foggy morning. I was at your place then, by the bye—Peatburn. It rather interfered with my shooting then too.”
Lord Latimer not making any attempt to muster even a smile at this misplaced pleasantry, Fitzalbert relapsed into silence, and occupied himself in watching the progress of the fog, which slowly rolled away as they approached the higher ground to which they were bound. Arrived there, both parties left their carriages, and proceeded on foot to a more retired part of the heath. As Fitzalbert strode on before, Lord Latimer stopped a little for Oakley, who was following with Mr. Sandford, and once more addressed him. “I wish you would allow me to think, Mr. Oakley, that you have better considered what I suggested last night. It is not by any means too late.”
“Any thing that you may have now to communicate to me, my lord, had better be addressed through my friend, Mr. Sandford; but if he makes any appeal to me, I should certainly say that I did not come here to be bullied, and that any interruption, or hesitation, at this moment, unless on some fresh ground, must certainly have that appearance.”
Lord Latimer looked at Mr. Sandford, but he could see no attempt, on his part, at any opening for further negociation, and as they had now reached the ground, he could only hope that, after the first fire, the renewed attempts he then determined to make at explanation, might be more successful, as the idea of misconstruction, as to his motives, which seemed to influence Oakley’s conduct, would then no longer have the same weight.
Fitzalbert had been led to expect, from what Lord Latimer told him the evening before, that Oakley, in his cooler moments, would see the unjustifiable nature of the imputations he had ventured, and he was therefore more exasperated at the obstinacy with which he appeared now to defend them.
It was arranged by Lord Latimer, with the concurrence of his coadjutor, that to avoid premeditation, the parties should not face each other till a given signal—that they should then immediately level their pistols and fire.
At the given signal, Oakley turned round, and stretched forth his arm steadily, but with what accuracy of aim was never known. Fitzalbert, upon facing his adversary, raised his hand with apparent carelessness, but, as it proved, with too fatal precision, for almost within the same second of time in which the instrument of death reached the level of his unerring eye, Oakley staggered and fell.
All the parties, among whom was a surgeon, who had been brought down on purpose, hastened to his assistance. As soon as Oakley could speak, the first person he addressed was Fitzalbert.
“You had better go—I feel you had—but first, before these gentlemen—you could do no otherwise than you did. The blame was entirely my own—most heartily do I forgive you.”
It was some time before the medical gentleman thought it safe to move Oakley at all, as the ball appeared to be in the immediate neighbourhood of the lungs; but when a litter was procured, as it was highly important that he should be carried as short a distance as possible, they attempted to remove him to Lord Latimer’s villa at Wimbledon.