Self-control: A Novel

He was, in effect, almost indifferent whether she accepted or rejected his proffered assistance. If she accepted it, he was determined that it should be clogged with a condition expressly stated, that he was for the future to be received with greater favour. If she refused, and he scarcely doubted that she would, he had only to make the signal, and she would be hurried, unresisting, to destruction. Yet, recollecting the despair, the distraction, with which she would too late discover her misfortune; the bitter upbraidings with which she would meet her betrayer; the frantic anguish with which she would mourn her disgrace, if, indeed, she survived it, he was inclined to wish that she would choose the more quiet way of forwarding his designs, and he again earnestly entreated her to permit his interference. Laura's strong dislike to being indebted for any favour to Hargrave, was somewhat balanced in her mind by the horror of a prison, and by the consideration that she could immediately repay him by the sale of part of her annuity. Though she still resisted his offer, therefore, it was less firmly than before. Hargrave continued to urge her. 'If,' said he, 'you dislike to allow me the pleasure of obliging you, this trifling sum may be restored whenever you please; and if you afterwards think that any little debt remains, it is in your power to repay it a thousand fold. One kind smile, one consenting look, were cheaply purchased with a world.' The hint which concluded this speech seemed to Laura manifestly intended to prevent her acceptance of the offer which he urged so warmly. 'Are you not ashamed, Sir,' said she, with a disdainful smile, 'thus to make a parade of generosity which you do not mean to practise? I know you do not – cannot expect, that I should poorly stoop to purchase your assistance.' 'Upon my soul, Laura,' cried Hargrave, seizing her hands, 'I am most earnest, most anxious, that you should yield to me in this affair; nor will I quit this spot till you have consented – nor till you have allowed me to look upon your consent as a pledge of your future favour.' Laura indignantly snatched her hands from his grasp. 'All that I comprehend of this,' said she, 'is insult, only insult. Leave me, Sir! It is unworthy even of you to insult the misfortunes of a defenceless woman.' Hargrave would not be repulsed. He again took her hand and persevered in his entreaties, not forgetting, however, to insinuate the conditions. Laura, in silent scorn, turned from him, wondering what could be the motive of his strange conduct, till it suddenly occurred to her that the arrest might be a mere plot contrived by Hargrave himself for the purpose of terrifying her into the acceptance of the conditions necessary to her escape. This suspicion once formed gained strength by every circumstance. The improbability of the debt; the time chosen when Lady Pelham was absent; the opportune arrival of Hargrave; the submission of the pretended bailiffs to his order; his frequent repetition of the conditions of his offer, at the same time that he appeared to wish for its acceptance; all conspired to convince Laura that she was intended to be made the dupe of a despicable artifice. Glowing with indignation, she again forced herself from Hargrave. 'Away with this contemptible mockery,' she cried, 'I will hear no more of it. While these people choose to guard me in this house, it shall be in an apartment secure from your intrusion.' Then, before Hargrave could prevent her, she left him, and shut herself into her own chamber.

Here, at greater liberty to think, a new question occurred to her. In case of her refusal to accept of Hargrave's terms – in case she actually preferred intrusting herself to the pretended bailiffs, whither could they intend to convey her? Laura's blood ran cold at the thought. If they were indeed the agents of Hargrave, what was there of dreadful that she had not to fear! Yet she could scarcely believe that persons could be found to attempt so daring a villany. Would they venture upon an outrage for which they must answer to the laws! an outrage which Lady Pelham would certainly feel herself concerned to bring to immediate detection and punishment. 'Unfortunate chance!' cried Laura, 'that my aunt should be absent just when she might have saved me. And I know not even where to seek her. – Why did she not tell me whither she was going? She who was wont to be so open! – Can this be a part of this cruel snare? Could she – Oh it is impossible! My fears make me suspicious and unjust.'

Though Laura thus endeavoured to acquit Lady Pelham, her suspicion of Hargrave's treachery augmented every moment. While she remembered that her father, though he had spoken to her of his affairs with the most confidential frankness, had never hinted at such a debt, never named such a person as his pretended creditor – while she thought of the manner of Hargrave's interference, the improbability that her own and her father's name and address, as well as the casualty of Lady Pelham's absence should be known to mere strangers – the little likelihood that common swindlers would endeavour to extort money by means so hazardous and with such small chance of success – her conviction rose to certainty; and she determined that nothing short of force should place her in the power of these impostors. Yet how soon might that force be employed! How feeble was the resistance which she could offer! And who would venture to aid her in resisting the pretended servants of law! 'Miserable creature that I am!' cried she, wringing her hands in an agony of grief and terror, 'must I submit to this cruel wrong? – Is there no one to save me – no friend near? – Yes! yes, I have a friend from whom no treachery of man can tear me – who can deliver me from their violence – who can do more – can make their cruelty my passport to life eternal. Let me not despair then – Let me not be wanting to myself. – With His blessing the feeblest means are mighty.'

After a moment's consideration Laura rung her bell, and the maid who usually attended her appeared. 'Catherine,' said Laura, endeavouring to speak composedly, 'will you oblige me by going to Finsbury Square, to Mr Derwent, and begging of him to come hither instantly?' 'Bless me, Madam,' cried the girl, 'you look as if you were just going to faint! can I get you any thing?' 'No, no, I shall not faint,' said Laura. 'Go my dear – go quickly – if you would save a wretch from destruction. Stop not a moment I implore you! – Oh Catherine, more than life depends on you!' The girl's curiosity was strongly excited by these words, as well as by the strange visit of the men who were waiting in the lobby. She would fain have staid to make inquiries, but the imploring anguish of Laura's look and manner was irresistible, and she hastened out of the room. Laura then double-locking the door determined that by force only it should be entered, and throwing herself on a seat, strove to rally the spirits she was so soon to need. In a few minutes, however, Catherine returned, and through the key hole informed Laura that she had been intercepted by the men below stairs, who would not suffer any one to leave the house. 'All is then as I feared,' cried Laura in a voice of desperation. 'And thus has he made his cruel plot so sure! Is there no escape! Oh Catherine! cannot you steal away from them? Is there no means to save me?' Moved by the voice of anguish, the girl promised to do her utmost, but confessed that she had little hope of succeeding.

For a moment Laura believed her fate sealed, and almost gave herself up to despair; but, now convinced of the treachery of Hargrave, and unwillingly obliged to suspect Lady Pelham's connivance, indignation at such unexampled baseness and cruelty again roused her fainting spirit. Again she determined to resist to the uttermost, and if dragged by force from her place of refuge, to appeal to the humanity of the passengers in the street. 'Surely,' thought she, 'even common strangers will not permit such oppression.' The windows of her chamber looked towards the gardens behind the house; and she now regretted that she had not rather shut herself up in one of the front apartments, from whence she could have explained her situation to the passers by. Seeing no other chance of escape, she resolved on attempting to change her place of refuge, and was approaching the door to listen whether any one was near, when she was startled by the rough voice of one of the pretended bailiffs. 'Come along Miss,' he cried, 'we are quite tired of waiting. Come along.' The shuddering Laura made no reply. 'Come, come Miss,' cried the man again; 'you have had time enough to make ready.' Laura continued silent, while the ruffian called to her again and again, shaking the door violently. He threatened, with shocking oaths, that he would burst it open, and that she would be punished for resisting the officers of justice. All was in vain. Laura would not answer a single word. Trembling in every limb, she listened to his blasphemies and vows of vengeance, till she had wearied out her persecutor, and her ear was gladdened with the sound of his departing. He was almost immediately succeeded by his less ferocious companion, who more civilly begged her to hasten, as their business would not permit any longer delay. Finding that she would not answer, he reminded her of the consequences of obstructing the execution of the law; and threatened, if she continued obstinate, to use force. Laura sat silent and motionless, using every momentary interval of quiet, in breathing a hasty prayer for deliverance. The least violent of the fellows proved the most persevering; yet at last she had the satisfaction to hear him also retire. Presently a lighter step approached, and Hargrave called to her. 'Miss Montreville! Laura! Miss Montreville!' Laura was still silent. He called again, without success. 'Miss Montreville is ill,' cried he aloud, as if to some one at a distance. 'She is insensible. The door must be forced.' 'No! No!' cried Laura, determined not to leave him this pretence, 'I am not insensible, nor ill, if you would leave me in peace.' 'For heaven's sake, then,' returned he, 'let me speak a few words to you.' 'No,' answered Laura, 'you can say nothing that I wish to hear.' 'I beseech you, I implore you,' said Hargrave, 'only by one word put it in my power to save you from these miscreants – say but that one little word, and you are free.' 'Man, man!' cried Laura, vehemently, 'why will you make me abhor you? I want no freedom but from your persecutions! Begone!' 'Only promise me,' said Hargrave, lowering his voice, 'only promise me that you will give up that accursed De Courcy, and I will dismiss these men.' 'Do you curse him who saved your life! Monster! Leave me! I detest you.' Hargrave gnawed his lip with passion. 'You shall dearly pay for this obstinacy,' said he, and fiercely strode away.

In the heat of his wrath, he commanded his coadjutors to force the door; but the law which makes the home of an Englishman a sacred sanctuary, extends its precious influence, in some faint degree, to the breasts even of the dregs of mankind; and these wretches, who would have given up Laura to any other outrage, hesitated to perpetrate this. They objected the danger. 'Does your Honour think,' said one of them, 'that the servants will stand by and allow us to break open the door.' 'I tell you,' said Hargrave, 'all the men-servants are from home. What do you fear from a parcel of women?' 'Women can bear witness as well as men, your Honour; and it might be as much as our necks are worth to be convicted. But if your Honour could entice her out, we'd soon catch her.' Hargrave took two or three turns along the lobby, and then returned to Laura. 'Miss Montreville,' said he, 'my dearest Miss Montreville, I conjure you to admit me only for a moment. These savages will wait no longer. They are determined to force your door. Once more I implore you, before it is too late, let me speak with you. I expect them every moment.' Laura's breast swelled with indignation at this vile pretence of kindness. 'Acting under your commands, Sir,' said she, 'I doubt not that they may even dare this outrage. And let them at their peril. If the laws of my country cannot protect, they shall avenge me.' For a moment Hargrave stood confounded at this detection, till anger replacing shame, – 'Very well, Madam,' he cried; 'insult me as you please, and take the consequences.' He then rejoined his emissaries; and by bribery and threats endeavoured to prevail upon them to consummate their violence. The men, unwilling to forfeit the reward of the hazard and trouble they had already undergone, allured by Hargrave's promises, and fearing his vengeance, at last agreed to drag their hapless victim to her doom.

Having taken such instruments as they could find, for the purpose of forcing the door, they followed Hargrave up stairs, and prepared to begin their work. At this near prospect of the success of all his schemes, Hargrave's rage began to cool; and a gleam of tenderness and humanity reviving in his heart, he shrunk from witnessing the anguish which he was about to inflict. 'Stop,' said he to his people, who were approaching the door; 'stay a few moments;' and, putting his hand to his forehead, he walked about, not wavering in his purpose, but endeavouring to excuse it to himself. 'It is all the consequence of her own obstinancy,' said he, suddenly stopping. 'You may go on – No; stay, let me first get out of this house. Her cries would drive me mad. – Make haste – lose no time after I am gone. It is better over.'

Besides the motive which he owned, Hargrave was impelled to depart by the dread of meeting Laura's upbraiding eye, and by the shame of appearing even to the servants, who were so soon to know his baseness, an inactive spectator of Laura's distress. He hastened from the house, and the men proceeded in their work. With dread and horror did Laura listen to their attempts. Pale, breathless, her hands clenched in terror, she fixed her strained eyes upon the door, which every moment seemed yielding; then flying to the window, surveyed in despair the height, which made escape an act of suicide; then again turning to the door, tried with her feeble strength to aid its resistance. In vain! It yielded, and the shock threw Laura upon the ground. The ruffians raised her, more dead then alive, and were seizing her lily arms to lead her away; but, with all her native majesty, she motioned them from her. 'You need not touch me,' said she, 'you see I can resist no further.' With the composure of despair, she followed them to the hall, where, her strength failing, she sunk upon a seat. The servants now in pity and amazement approaching her, she addressed herself to one of them. 'Will you go with me, my good friend,' said she, 'that you may return and tell Lady Pelham where to find her niece's corpse!' The girl consented with tears in her eyes; but one of the fellows cried, 'No; no; she may run after the coach if she likes, but she don't go within side.' 'Why not?' said the other, with a brutal leer. 'They may both get home again together. They'll be free enough soon.' Laura shuddered. 'Where wandered my senses,' said she, 'when I thought of subjecting any creature to the chance of a fate like mine! Stay here, my dear, and tell Lady Pelham, that I charge her, by all her hopes here and hereafter, to seek me before she sleeps. Let her seek me wherever there is wickedness and wo – and there, living or dead, I shall be found.' 'Let's have done with all this nonsense,' said one of the men. 'John, make the coach draw up close to the door.' The fellow went to do as he was desired; while the other with a handkerchief prepared to stifle the cries of Laura, in case she should attempt to move the pity of passengers in the street. Laura heard the carriage stop, she heard the step let down, and the sound was like her death knell.

The man hurried her through the hall. He opened the street door – and Catherine entered with Mr Derwent. Laura, raising her bowed-down head, uttered a cry of joy. 'I am safe!' she cried, and sunk into the arms of Catherine.

Mr Derwent immediately directed his servants to seize the fellow who had held Laura, the other having made his escape upon seeing the arrival of her deliverers. Laura, soon recovering, told her tale to Mr Derwent, who ordering the man to be searched, examined the warrant, and declared it to be false. The danger attending forgery, however, had been avoided, for there was no magistrate of the same name with that which appeared in the signature. Hargrave's villany thus fully detected, Laura wished to dismiss his agent; but Mr Derwent would not permit such atrocity to go unpunished, and gave up the wretch to the arm of law. He then quitted Laura, leaving his servant to attend her till Lady Pelham's return and, worn out with the emotion she had undergone, she threw herself on a bed to seek some rest.

Early in the evening Lady Pelham returned, and immediately inquired for her niece. The servants, always attentive and often uncharitable spectators of the actions of their superiors, had before observed the encouragement which their mistress gave to Hargrave, and less unwilling to suspect than Laura, were convinced of Lady Pelham's connivance in his purpose. None of them therefore choosing to announce the failure of a scheme in which they believed her so deeply implicated, her questions produced no information except that Miss Montreville was gone indisposed to bed. The habitual awe with which the good sense and discernment of Laura had inspired Lady Pelham, was at present augmented almost to fear by the consciousness of duplicity. She shrunk from encountering the glance of quiet scrutiny, the plain direct question which left no room for prevarication, no choice between simple truth and absolute falsehood. But curiosity to know the success of the plot, and still more a desire to discover how far she was suspected of abetting it, prevailed over her fears; and having before studied the part she was to play, she entered Laura's apartment.

She found her already risen and prepared to receive her. 'My dear child,' said her Ladyship in one of her kindest tones, 'I am told you have been ill. What is the matter?' 'My illness is nothing, Madam,' answered Laura, 'but I have been alarmed in your absence by the most daring, the most unprincipled outrage!' 'Outrage, my dear!' cried Lady Pelham in a voice of the utmost surprise; 'What outrage?' Laura then, commanding by a powerful effort the imagination which swelled her heart, related her injuries without comment; pausing at times to observe how her aunt was affected by the recital. Lady Pelham was all amazement; which, though chiefly pretended, was partly real. She was surprised at the lengths to which Hargrave had gone, and even suspected his whole design, though she was far from intending to discover her sentiments to her niece. 'This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of!' cried she when Laura had ended. 'What can have been the meaning of this trick? What can have incited the people?' 'Colonel Hargrave, Madam,' said Laura without hesitation. 'Impossible, my dear! Hargrave can be no further concerned in it, than so far as taking advantage of the accident to extort the promise of a little kindness from you. He would never have ventured to send the men into my house on such an errand.' 'One of them confessed to Mr Derwent, before the whole family, that Colonel Hargrave was his employer.' 'Astonishing!' cried Lady Pelham. 'And what do you suppose to have been Hargrave's intention?' 'I doubt not, Madam,' returned Laura, commanding her voice, though resentment flashed from her eyes, 'I doubt not that his intentions were yet more base and inhuman than the means he employed. But whatever they were, I am certain he would never have dared to entertain them, had it not been for the encouragement which your Ladyship has thought proper to give him.' 'I, child!' cried Lady Pelham, truth in her colour contradicting the falsehood of her tongue, 'Surely you do not think that I would encourage him in such a plot!' 'No, Madam,' answered Laura, 'I hope and believe that you are incapable of consenting to such wickedness. I allude only to the general countenance which you have always shewn to Colonel Hargrave.' Lady Pelham could implicitly rely upon Laura's word; and finding that she was herself unsuspected, she had leisure to attempt palliating the offence of her protegé. 'That countenance,' returned she, 'shall be completely withdrawn for the future, if Hargrave does not explain this strange frolic to my satisfaction.' 'Frolic, Madam!' cried Laura indignantly. 'If that name belongs to crimes which would disgrace barbarians, then call this a frolic!' 'Come, my dear girl,' said Lady Pelham, coaxingly throwing her arm round Laura, 'you are too much, and I must own, according to present appearances, justly irritated, to talk of this affair coolly tonight. To-morrow we shall converse about it. Now let's go to tea.' 'No, Madam,' said Laura with spirit, for she saw through her aunt's intention of glossing over Hargrave's villany – 'I will never again expose myself to the chance of meeting a wretch whose crimes are my abhorrence. I will not leave this room till I quit it for ever. Madam, you have often called me firm. Now I will prove to you that I am so. Give me the means to go hence in a manner becoming your niece, or my own limbs shall bear me to Scotland, and on the charity of my fellow-creatures will I rely for support.' 'I protest, my love,' cried Lady Pelham, 'you are absolutely in a passion, I never saw you so angry till now.' 'Your Ladyship never saw me have such reason for anger,' replied Laura. 'I own I am angry, yet I know that my determination is right, and I assure you it will outlive the heat with which it is expressed.'

Had Laura's purpose been more placidly announced it would have roused Lady Pelham to fury; but even those who have least command over their tempers have generalship enough to perceive the advantage of the attack; and the passion of a virago has commonly a patriarchal submission for its elder-born brother. Lady Pelham saw that Laura was in no humour for trifling; she knew that her resolutions were not easily shaken; and she quitted her upon pretence of fatigue, but in reality that she might consider how to divert her from the purpose which she had announced so peremptorily.

Laura was every day becoming more necessary to her aunt, and to think of parting with her was seriously disagreeable. Besides, Laura's departure would effectually blast the hopes of Hargrave; and what would then become of all Lady Pelham's prospects of borrowing consequence from the lovely young Countess of Lincourt? Never wanting in invention, Lady Pelham thought of a hundred projects for preventing her niece's journey to Scotland. Her choice was fixed by a circumstance which she could not exclude from her consideration. The story of Hargrave's seditious plot was likely soon to be made public. It was known to Mr Derwent, and to all her own household. Her conscience whispered that her connivance would be suspected. Mr Derwent might be discreet; but what was to be expected from the discretion of servants? The story would spread from the footmen to the waiting-maids, and from these to their ladies, till it would meet her at every turn. Nor had her imprudent consent left her the power of disclaiming all concern in it, by forbidding Hargrave her house, since he would probably revenge himself by disclosing her share in the strategem. Lady Pelham saw no better success of palliating these evils, than by dismissing her establishment and returning immediately to Walbourne; and she hoped, at the same time, that it might not be impossible to prevail on Laura to change the direction of her journey. For this purpose she began by beseeching her niece to lay aside thoughts of retiring to Scotland; and was beginning to recount all the disadvantages of such a proceeding; but Laura would listen to no remonstrance on the subject; declaring that, if after what had happened, she remained in a place where she was liable to such outrage, she should be herself accountable for whatever evil might be the consequence. Lady Pelham then proposed an immediate removal to Walbourne, artfully insinuating that, if any cause of complaint should there arise, Laura would be near the advice and assistance of her friends at Norwood, and of Mrs Bolingbroke. Laura was not without some wishes that pointed towards Walbourne; but she remembered the importunities which she had there endured, and she firmly resisted giving occasion to their renewal. Lady Pelham had then recourse to tender upbraidings. 'Was it possible that Laura, the only hope and comfort of her age, would quit her now, when she had so endeared herself to the widowed heart, reft of all other treasure – now when increasing infirmity required her aid – now when the eye which was so soon to close, was fixed on her as on its last earthly treasure! Would Laura thus cruelly punish her for a crime in which she had no share; a crime which she was willing to resent to the utmost of her niece's wishes!' Lady Pelham talked herself into tears, and few hearts of nineteen are hard enough to resist the tears of age. Laura consented to accompany her aunt to Walbourne, provided that she should never be importuned on the subject of Hargrave, nor even obliged to see him. These conditions Lady Pelham solemnly promised to fulfil, and, well pleased, prepared for her journey. Hargrave, however, waited on her before her departure, and excused himself so well on the score of his passion, his despair, and his eager desire to be allied to Lady Pelham, that, after a gentle reprimand, he was again received into favour, informed of the promises which had been made against him, and warned not be discouraged if their performance could not immediately be dispensed with. Of this visit Laura knew nothing; for she adhered to her resolution of keeping her apartment, nor ever crossed its threshold, till, on the third day after her perilous adventure, the carriage was at the door which conveyed her to Walbourne.