whom he was surrounded, glimmered faintly in his heart, and even in this awful moment, quivering between life and death, trembling between time and eternity, he thought more about preserving the fearless and reckless gayety of his character, and of dying like Mercutio, than of summoning his fortitude from a better source and for a better purpose. "Fred," said he, "I would ask your forgiveness; but→ but I am not-I have not- ;" here he struggled stoutly with his agony, nor suffered it to be perceptible through any other means than the perspiration which hung upon his forehead, in large globules;"I would say-Fred, that your wife-" Villars started from him at the word-" is innocent -pure-for me;" seeing Villars' doubting countenance, "it is true-true-true-I deceived her into her temporary ab sence. "Oh, Leslie! did I dare believe you; did I dare trust your words! Upon all other points I know your lips never uttered a falsehood; but upon these--" he stopped. "You think I never uttered--a truth--eh, Fred?" thus Leslie finished the sentence for him. "How can I convince you? Shall I swear? alas! have we not so often laughed at every thing sacred, that there is nothing left by which to swear, with any hope that you might think I respected it; but by the word of a Leslie, which was never forfeited to man," and his energy gave him a momentary strength, "I assure you I speak that which is the fact.” He read in Villars' eye his conviction of the truth of his statement; and again the lighter part of his character assumed his ascendancy, and pulling Villars towards him, he continued, "Yes, Villars, 'tis true-your wife has manymany--many good points :" he groaned" and recollect-that nothing-is-quite-perfect. You know the proverb I have quoted to you before- Al molino ed alla sposa And he smiled, as he saw Villars wince under the remark. "We had better take some steps to remove him,” said Villars to La Tour, who thought from his closed eyes that he had fainted. "No-no—not yet. It will produce fever. Let me lie-the air revives me ;" and he seemed to derive fresh vigour from it. Villars still urged the immediate removal, or that La Tour should go for a surgeon; but Leslie would not permit either. He remarked, if any thing should happen while left alone with Villars, it might have an awkward appearance.' On Villars still pressing, he said, "Come-come, Fred; it is n't fair--one can't argue so freely with a bullet in one's body. Besides, you must fly; you must go and protect your wife, and I have something more to say--all the rest I will write ; for I fear you have given me plenty of leisure. Fred-Fred -it was your own fault. You--you put it in my head firstyears ago--and my devil has been egging me on-ever since. Why did you trust me?" "Our long friendship!" exclaimed Villars. 66 Friendship! aye, Pylades and Orestes--Damon and Pythias. But, Fred, there was no Mistress Orestes: no Mistress Pythias--depend upon it." Here he groaned, in spite of his utmost efforts" there were no pretty wives in the case "La Tour wiped his forehead; "but yours is innocent." A sudden thought seemed to come over him, and produced a smile. "I say, Fred," he continued, "you must n't let Mrs. Villars think the worse of me for this circumstance; it must n't be known, lest I should lose my character." Again a groan forced its way into utterance. "And I say, Fred, pray apo-apologise for me to her-for -having given her so--much--trouble, and for having brought her so far-so far-for-nothing!" and he fainted from excess of agony. Villars and La Tour took advantage of his insensibility, and binding his wound as well as circumstances would permit, they bore him gently to the inn, from which Villars, convinced of the innocence of his wife, both by the confession of Leslie and her own explanation, instantly departed, arranging with La Tour how he should communicate the result of his master's wound, CHAPTER XXIII. THE CONCLUSION. Aye, but to die, and go we know not where ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod. "Tis too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, To what we fear of death. SHAKSPEARE. THE circumstances which had led to the rencontre detailed in the last chapter were simply these :--From the time that Leslie had ceased to persecute Agnes he had, in company with Villars, pursued his former career in different parts of the Continent, until the latter had fallen desperately in love with a young Venetian lady, and finding it impossible to compass his ends by any other means, had actually married her. Called by his affairs so suddenly to Paris, that he could not take his wife, he placed her under the care of a part of her family in Italy, and proceeded on his route, accompanied by Leslie. This made the separation easier, as he felt in spite of all their friendship, that he could not trust Leslie in his absence. Unfortunately Leslie guessed this, and the demon which was always tempting him, suggested to his mind the idea of feigning illness at Geneva, for the purpose of making Villars proceed without him. This Villars was compelled to do, Leslie promising to follow immediately, or to wait his return there. The moment, however, that the whip of Villars' postilion was out of hearing, La Tour was summoned --and away posted Leslie back to his friend's wife. The intimacy in which they had lived afforded him every opportunity-till what she had at first received as mere gallantries assumed a more serious meaning. Nothing, however, had entered her mind and heart contrary to the duty of a wife: and Leslie was obliged to have recourse to stratagem to get her into his power. He forged a letter from Villars, saying he was taken ill on his return homeward, and desiring his wife to come under the escort of Leslie to join him. The plan succeeded; nor had she discovered the deception till their arrival at the little inn. Villars in the mean time, finding Leslie had departed the moment he had quitted him, suspecting his intriguing disposition, pushed on with redoubled speed-arrived just after the flight of Leslie, immediately pursued him, and overtook him as before described. In spite of the agony which Leslie had experienced from his wound, and although he had talked of death with a view of showing his fearless recklessness of it, he had no idea in his own mind that he was in any great danger, and imagined that nothing more was necessary than the extraction of the ball and a little pain to put him once more in a fair train of recovery. He had seen such gun-shot wounds cured during his military service in the Peninsula, that he had acquired a habit of never thinking them mortal till the sufferer was actually dead; and he could not believe that a mere pistolbullet, which had not actually entered a vital part, could be fraught with death. Surgeons were immediately sent for from all the nearest towns, and the process of extracting the ball immediately commenced; but whether from the awkwardness of the professors, or from the direction the bullet had taken, it eluded all their skill, and the only result was the increased fever of the patient. This circumstance, together with the symptoms by which the wound was accompanied, induced his medical attendants to inform him of their dread of a fatal result. Leslie would not believe them, and attempted to ridicule them either as indulging groundless fears, or from their want of surgical skill. But the grave and pale face of La Tour soon convinced him that there was more in their fears than he dared acknowledge; and, for the first time, the idea of death came over him, accompanied by an impatience, and a dread which he was ashamed to show, and which he attempted to allay by his old habit of writing to Villars. Stretched on a couch therefore that commanded a beautiful view of the surrounding country from the window, for he would not go to bed; at every interval of pain, he wrote as follows: LESLIE TO VILLARS (written at intervals). Fred-Fred, I always told you, you were never a sure shot. I little thought though that I should have lived to prove it as I do now. Why--why, would you never take my advice and practice? If you had done so—and I am to die-why you might have done my business at once; and not thus unskilfully have left me to linger, and die, as it were, by inches. This body of mine, being literally the field in which life and death are struggling for the mastery, but life shall conquer. For to die-die-and be no more! No more to see that sun, which even now throws a bright gleam across my paper; no more to see those green fields which smile through the windows, pleasanter than I ever recollect them; no more to look at the buoyant wave sparkling in the sunbeams; no more to laugh, and enjoy, and aye, a thousand recollections press upon me--but to die. Surely the little hole thy cursed bullet has made, can never let out all this load of life. Surely all these warm pulses-this flowing blood-these internal and external evidences of health and strength which have borne me on so proudly, can never evaporate through an orifice that never was a quarter of an inch diameter; and of which there is scarcely a mark to be seen. It cannot-it shall not be. Oh! There-there was a groan; a groan, Fred, of agony. I wish our Peninsular friend F- was here with his forceps! : 11. That fellow, La Tour, has just been here, with his pale ace, and hollow sunken eye-the very reverse of his former VOL. II.-21 |