CHAPTER XXXVII. "Thou canst not paint a man Timon of Athens. In one of those long, straight, interminable-looking roads, such as we have before described as being so frequently found in France, might be perceived, seated beneath the shade of the trees that stretched along the sides of the way, one of those miserable wretches who, in certain parts of the continent, are employed in mending the roads, but to prevent whose escape have a large log chained to the leg. The degraded being we are about to describe was a very young man, and although bowed down by abject misery, still had something about him that bespoke how former times had looked upon an object very different to that which now presented itself to the gaze of the passers by. He sat upon the raised footpath by the road-side; his elbows were resting upon his knees, his chin supported by both hands. The sun was sinking, and threw long ghost-like shadows of the trees slantingly across the ground, forming alternate lines of light and shade. The eye, wandering from this man to the far extremity of the road, was arrested by the dark figures of two men, who, care-worn and travel-soiled, advanced with slow and lagging steps towards the spot where he was sitting. Fatigue had evidently laid his heavy hand upon them, and would, ere another hour should pass, if not prevented by welcome rest, become the conqueror of them both. They were neither of them much better dressed than the convict they approached, but they bore no badge of crime. The one was much the senior of the other, both deeply bronzed by the sun, and each carried a little bundle upon a stick across his shoulder. When they had come up with the dejected being who sat in such deep despair, the younger of the two, speaking in French, enquired how far it was from some place of rest. "I know no place of rest on this earth," said the man, in the same language, but with a foreign accent. "By your tone," said the first speaker, in English, "we should be countrymen were you not born in England?” "I was! and would that I had never been born at all." All this he said without raising his head an inch, and by his manner seemed to indicate a great distaste for holding any lengthened discourse with mortal. "Your residence here, in France," said the eldest of the three, "has not taught you French politeness, methinks." As these few words were being uttered, the man slowly, and as it were reluctantly, raised his head, and just as the first had finished his speech their eyes met. The convict started to his feet as if by an electric shock, exclaiming "Graph!" "Grindley!" "Villain! is it you?" said the youngest of the party, "and do we meet once more!" Julian, for it was he, was about to fly upon and annihilate the cause of all his misery, but was held back by Graph. "Idiot!" exclaimed Graph, "have you not seen trouble enough, that you would involve yourself in more, merely for revenge? This scoundrel is as much in my debt as in yours; but the French government, I see, has been kind enough to take all responsibility upon itself, and has given him a receipt in full in the shape of that log; my revenge is to laugh at the doer done-ha, ha, ha !—it's now our turn to laugh, miscreant!" "I would rather you knock my brains out than be the cause of your mirth," said Grindley, savagely. "Indeed, most noble Marquis," replied Graph, with insulting contempt, "how is it we find your lordship in this charming spot, with such a lovely tassel to your boot. We thought you were basking in all the pomp and pride of this young man's rights; and have journeyed half round the world in the hope of paying our respects to you in your grand chateau. You would have been delighted to have seen us there, mon seigneur?” An "My spirit is too much broken," said Grindley, "to banter with you now; but know your triumph will be but of short duration. heir has been discovered nearer in blood than the old Frenchman who left his claim to the estates to Julian De Clifford. Well, well, I enjoyed my nobility for a glorious year or more. No opposition being made, few enquiries were instituted, and so carefully had that greenhorn there prepared the way, that I merely had to walk the course, and thus come in undisputed winner of the race." "But how did you lose your prize at last?" enquired Graph, forgetting his resentment in his curiosity. "Why," replied the other, "on the very night that I believed myself the spoiled child of fortune-when I even saw a chance of becoming the possessor of the heiress of the Earl Delorme " U "Of Delorme?" ejaculated De Clifford. "Why not?" responded the other. "A marquis is a fair match for the daughter of an earl! Yes, just at that bright moment, up starts a new claimant. I was too well aware that if my title to the estates was once disputed, such enquiries would be made about me and mine that had better be left in dark oblivion; so at a moment's notice, packing up whatever I could conveniently escape with, I left my minions and the world to wonder at my mysterious disappearance. Fool like, I let my old propensity out for an airing, only for one night I was detected, condemned, and here I am, and here I suppose I shall remain for life, unless you, in pity for my wretchedness, should divulge all you know, and thus get me sent to my own dear native land to end my days-by being hanged." "Live, monster!" replied Graph, "and if Julian De Clifford can clear himself without bringing your name forward, why you may remain and enjoy your well-merited otium cum dignitate here in la belle France." Saying this, he took Julian's arm in an affected manner, and with an elegant swagger passed on; at the same time glancing over his shoulder with a sneer, saying—" Au revoir, au revoir, Monsieur le Marquis-and damn you!" Grindley looked after them with the malignity of a fiend, but he felt how powerless he was, and sinking into his former position by the roadside, actually burst into tears. "Well," said Graph, as he and Julian went slowly on, "wonders will never cease; who would have thought to have found that helldog in such a plight; I begin to fear there is more retribution on this earth than we men of the world ever allow ourselves to believe, at all events until it be too late to take warning. Should what he says about a nearer heir to the estates be true, and in this I doubt him not, we must then play our cards the best way we can with the Earl Delorme." "If I can serve you," replied Julian, "with honor, the debt of gratitude I already owe you for my escape, and which will be doubled if you put me in the way to prove my innocence, must make me your willing servant; but remember, no power on earth, no hope of happiness that you could promise me, shall make Julian De Clifford join in any scheme, that may by possibility bring a blush on honor's cheek. I am led to state this, because you have already more than once hinted that the Earl Delorme is by some strange means within your power —so much so, that he would not dare to refuse, at your command, even the hand of his daughter for the convict Julian." "Do not let your romantic notions of honor be shocked and frightened," said Graph; "all I require of you is to act as my attorney. I will place my power in your hands, for you know I am too wide awake to show my own nose again in England-the conditions, I have under his own hand, you will see fulfilled. Thus stands the case-I have that which he covets-he has undertaken to give me ten thousand pounds down, and a small income for my life, if I will but render the treasure up to him. It is to find this treasure we are now in France, and one more day will make or mar our fortunes. Oh, here is a cabaret, let us in and rest for the night." Julian became very low and wretched at the news he had heard from Grindley; for hitherto he had buoyed himself up with hope, for could he but have accomplished the proof of his innocence, and then have gained the title and estates, as Marquis de Savigne, he flattered himself that even the Earl Delorme might have lent a favorable ear to his prayer for the hand of Marian; but, alas! he felt that all those bright and glittering visions had faded into air. As they were sitting in the little tavern, Julian was fated to have one joyous surprise, for taking up a French journal, what should his eye light upon but the very account, copied from an English paper, which had caused poor Marian such anguish. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he read that part which deplored his death, as taking place just at the moment his innocence had been established. He read it again and again, and compelled Graph to do the same, so doubtful did he feel as to the correctness of his own vision. "Heaven be thanked," he exclaimed, "I can now hasten to my poor old uncles, openly and honorably. Oh, what a surprise it will be for them. Not a moment shall be lost : at day-break will I commence my blessed journey towards home-home, did I say-oh, what a joyous, what a thrilling, heavenly word is that-do you hear it, Graph ?-home, home, home!" "I do," replied Graph, with a sigh, "but I have nearly forgotten the meaning; it is many a day since I had a home-but I had one once-but, no, no, it wont do to think of those bygone times-were I to think much upon that subject, I should go mad! Oh, what a fool, a cursed fool, have I been all my life. Garçon, brandy here." It was settled that they should start off at earliest dawn; this they did, and arrived in Paris before mid-day; their little remaining stock of money was partly expended in the purchase of more decent apparel -and having made their toilet as respectable as they could, they hastened to the Advocate, Renard. Here Julian's worst fears were realized. The whole story was already known to the lawyer, and he made it far too clear that the rightful heir was the one now in possession, for Julian to waste even a second thought upon the subject of contesting the other's claim-so heaving a sigh, he turned upon his heel, and thus bade farewell to greatness for ever. Monsieur Renard restored all the papers really belonging to Julian, amongst which was the old Frenchman's diary: in looking over this as they walked along, Graph started at sight of an entry. "Well," he said, "this is wonderful, there was but one link wanting to connect the whole, and here it is.” He did not let Julian further into the secret at that moment, but hastened on, and having procured a conveyance, they soon found themselves in the Bois de Boulogne. Graph had brought with him something wrapped up in brown paper, of about three or four feet long-he placed this under his arm, and they penetrated to the very centre of the wood. To all Julian's enquiries about the mysterious parcel, Graph made but one reply"You'll see!" He searched about, until finding a landmark, in the shape of a small square stone, he exclaimed—“This is the spot— there stands the tree-and now, if old Time and the worms have but been kind to me, I am a rich man.” Graph looked cautiously through all the avenues to be assured that no strange eye was watching him, then hastily unwrapping the paper from the parcel, produced a small spade, and immediately began digging away the earth. "Ha, ha," he exclaimed, "'tis here, safe and sound, though many a year has passed since it was buried." Saying this, he stooped down and drew from the damp mould something wrapped round and round with what appeared to have been an old leathern apron; when this was removed, a packet well sealed was all Julian beheld. 66 Simple as this may look," said Graph, "it is my fortune— Delorme's fate-and has cost one man his life." Graph here related to De Clifford those passages of his early days, as connected with the packet-how its value had been discovered by one of his associates, and stolen from him-how they had kidnapped the thief, and had, at Grindley's instigation, who was then a mere boy, confined him in a loathsome vault, and starved him almost to death to make him divulge where he had hid it—and finished by making Julian shudder as he told him, how this same Grindley, to put it beyond the power of the wretch they had tortured to betray them, had given him, unknown to the others, a dose of poison. Graph now gave De Clifford all the instructions he thought necessary, and in a few hours more, the latter was hurrying towards his native land. If ever human heart beat with joy almost unutterable, that heart was Julian's, as he journeyed along. The only cause for sorrow, and one he blushed to call so, was the elevation of his beloved Marian; how happy he felt he should have been were she but now as humble in her station as when he called her sister-what bliss should he have felt at returning and claiming her for his wife; she had confessed her love for him, but dared he now remind her of that confession? How should he shape his course? Must he for |