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au sécret, except to the extent you ordered, especially when its effects were so successful."
Bazas smiled grimly.
"I promise you, gentlemen," said he, "that the relaxation I ask will not alter my resolution, which is to tell everything, trusting to the promise of Mr. Darcy."
Darcy gave the required order, and, to make sure that the prisoner should not be subjected to any alternative persecution, he told his two servants that their prisoner was to be let absolutely alone. They were only to take care he should not escape.
"I should not try," said Bazas, "even though I were allowed. You do not know the effects of treatment au secret."
One of the effects were visible enough, for in a minute Bazas was sound asleep.
The door was locked and he was left to his slumber.
It might be expected that the interval till one p.m. should be spent by Darcy in a state of restless anxiety; but we have failed to portray this hero properly if the reader should think he betrayed any symptoms of such feelings. On the contrary, he got over the intervening time quietly by conning over an Italian novel with the occasional use of a dictionary. He lunched, as usual, at noon, and by one p.m. was sitting quietly in his room waiting the entrance of Bazas, on whose confession depended everything which man holds dear. But an interruption occurred, which for a time shook even Darcy's equanimity. There was a sonorous ring at the bell.
Darcy listened; he heard the street door opened, heard the voices of several people, among which he distinguished that of Loiret's, steadily asserting that his master was not at home, and that it was unnecessary to enter; but as they did enter, and Darcy heard the sound of several footsteps ascending the stairs, it was clear the new-comers insisted on ascertaining for themselves the truth of the servant's statement.
Darcy was indignant. Such a forcible entry, to an Englishman, is intolerable. It was, therefore, with flashing eyes he rose from his chair as the intruders entered.
His surprise overpowered his indignation, for the first who entered was Mrs. Legh, accompanied by an ecclesiastic, and by five of the Venetian police.
"There is your prisoner," said the ecclesiastic to the police, pointing to Darcy; "secure him!"
But the arrest did not seem so simple a proceeding. Darcy's servants, accustomed to face any danger, flew to his side, and each drew from his bosom a revolver; Darcy took Louret's.
"Look ye, gentlemen!" said he sternly, "I am not a man to be meddled with with impunity. Advance one step and I fire.
The assailants drew back, but they too were armed, and more than one death would have followed had not Mrs. Legh stepped between them.
"Mr. Darcy," said she, "it is vain for you to resist. The murder of Count Grenville must be avenged by his countrymen. You escaped in England, but you must stand your trial here."
"Mrs. Legh," said Darcy, "God knows, if the trial would bring truth to light, I should myself court it, but I doubt the result; and conscious of my own innocence, I shall protect myself from the risk. I am here under the protection of the English Embassy, and this letter will probably inform the leader of your party that I am also under the protection of the Police of Venice. So saying Darcy handed to the Sergeant of Police in command of the party Goudot's letter.
"It is quite true, madame," said the Austrian functionary, after carefully perusing the latter. "Monsieur is entitled to our protection; we cannot arrest him."
There was silence for a short time, which at last was broken by the priest.
"Mr. Darcy," said he, "I am uncle to Count Grenville, whom you are accused of having murdered. I am a man of peace, and meddle not with human revenge. Besides, I condemn not unheard. I have read over the evidence of the English trial, which you must yourself admit is against any other theory than that you perpetrated the crime; and if there were any doubt, the fact now ascertained, that the evidence of Sir Philip Warden, to which you owe your acquittal, was false from beginning to end would of itself dispel it. This, I say, is the view taken generally of your case. It is that unhesitatingly believed in by my niece, and it was the conclusion to which I arrived without the slightest hesitation, until this hour when for the first time I have seen you. The reason which makes me now doubt the correctness of the general opinion is nothing more nor less than your expression and manners; so that, of course, I cannot urge that as any reason to induce others to alter their own mind against the conclusion of reason. should like, therefore, to hear whether you have anything to say for yourself which I have not yet heard, and which may fortify the favourable opinion I am at present induced to entertain."
This speech, made with perfect coolness, was to Darcy's own mind.
"I thank you," said he, "for your candour and for the favourable impression you are disposed to entertain, and the more so because it is in my power at present, if I am not mistaken, if not
to deepen this impression into conviction, at least to make it less fleeting than you tell me it is likely to be.-Bring in," said he to his servants, "Leon Bazas."
Nothing was said till that worthy entered the room, and then Darcy desired that the gensdarme should withdraw, in the mean. time keeping guard to prevent any one escaping if they thought proper.
SMITH, BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON.
"Oh, that I had a title good enough to
Merchant of Venice.
SMITH! Brown! Jones! Robinson!-who cares
Or seeks to make acquaintance with
A Robinson, Jones, Brown, or Smith ?
But clap a coronet upon
Smith, Brown, Jones, or Robinson,
And see how quickly honoured is
In Strangford, Smith obtained renown;
With Lords Kilmaine and Oranmore;
Smith, Brown, Jones, Robinson, behold
EDMUND LENTHALL SWIFTE.
VISIT TO THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM.
SOPHIA MARKHAM had not quite recovered the good looks of which she used to be so proud, and was, if anything, rather embonpoint; but her late residence in England and on the Continent had greatly improved her appearance. She had large black eyes, her cheeks were somewhat of a brunette's, her hair was glossy black, and her features regular. She was above the middle height and her appearance dignified; but she was of that class, so numerous in India and elsewhere, also to be found,-women who cannot live without some sort of excitement. When the poet who was himself a cynic, and whose life was a long disease, said of the sex that "every woman was at heart a rake," he was not very far from the truth; had he known the ladies who are the staple examples of Indian life, or spoken of the women who form the generality of society in colonial settlements, he would have been justified in his censure, though, happily, many homes in the United Kingdom, may shew exceptions to it. Eliza confided to her friend parts of her little history, and Sophia found her thoughts turning to a new theme, and they went over the subject again and again.
The third day after their arrival, Mrs. Markham was not sorry to hear from the agent the news that he had selected a ship, and that he thought it desirable she should visit it.
"It will be," said she to Eliza, "such fun going over it; we car take a boat to the docks, and then return by the City; and as the agent tells me the hour when the captain is to be on board, we can time ourselves so as to be there and see all the arrangements.
The next day was fine, and they both decided upon going by the river. On the sail down, Mrs. Markham showed Eliza the different buildings on each side of the Thames, and they soon reached the wharf where they were to land, at which place the agent was ready to meet them, and conduct them to the dock, where the vessel was lying. They went along with this cicerone, and walking on board from the dock, were introduced by him to the captain. Mrs. Markham saw her cabin and approved of it, and it was told her that the vessel would sail in about a fortnight; but that she need not go on board until they reached Portsmouth. As everything she saw met her approbation, she said that she would engage the cabin. They walked over every part, went through the cuddy, the different decks, and Mrs. Markham explained all to Eliza. After
they had had their curiosity satisfied to the full, they proceeded, under the agent's guidance, to a stand, where they got a cab and drove back to the west end. On their way back Sophia kept telling Eliza all the details about sea voyages, and both during this drive, and all the other's which they took together in town, they conversed constantly together, and never tired of each other's society. The feeling of friendship between them seemed to become cemented day by day. Eliza said that evening after dinner, that she felt a sense of trust in Sophia, and were it not for that she never would have had courage to venture upon such a thing as making a voyage to India, though, indeed, she added " I have had numerous letter: from a person there, who is most anxious that I should go out." Seeing Mrs. Markham's curiosity roused, she said, "My mother is exceedingly anxious that I should be married to this young man, who is rich enough, and you must know that I have already once refused him; but he knowing my mother's wishes is incessant in his solicitations that I should think better of it. In fact, I suppose he is really most anxious. Now I, to tell you the truth, candidly do not like him enough to accept him as a husband."
"Then," said Sophia, "is there another more favoured rival in the case? or is it only from a bashful reluctance to this man, or a dislike to him, that you refuse his offer? Who is the man that has made you so many offers? and what is his occupation out there?"
Eliza said, "He is a civilian-a judge."
"That," said Mrs. Markham, "is a very high office, and he must have an excellent salary; but, of course, I could not say anything about it, unless I knew all the circumstances."
"Then, I do not fancy him," said Eliza, "and I really think that I would prefer poverty with one I loved to immense riches with this man.'
"But who is the more favoured being?" said Sophia. "Does he also reside in India ?"
"Well," said Eliza, "as I have gone so far, and as you have shown me such proofs of your undoubted friendship, I must tell you that the man of my heart is, I believe, in India; but I never hear from him; and it seems to me so hopeless, indeed, so vague to think of him even, that I scarcely like to do so. He is a young
E. I. officer, and I have known him from the time I was a child. Before he went away he told me that he would never cease to think of me, whatever might be his fortune, or whatever changes might pass over him. My mother does not approve of my thinking of him, and urges me to accept the rich civilian's offer; but I cannot say that I have made up my mind to do so, and I cannot but cherish a recollection of the young cadet. But he is only a youth, and I am told