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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/45882-0.txt b/45882-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fe815b --- /dev/null +++ b/45882-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4343 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45882 *** + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ + (Oxford University) + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + + + A + SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + BY + + B. L. FARJEON, + + AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA," + "THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC. + + + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_ + VOL. III + + + + + LONDON + WARD AND DOWNEY + 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. + 1887 + + + + + + + Richard Clay and Sons, + LONDON AND BUNGAY. + + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE. + + * * * * * * + + BOOK THE SECOND (_Continued_). + +IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW IS +REVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND, +TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO., +CALIFORNIA. + + + + +VOL. III. + + + + + + + VII. + + +The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his version +of what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use the +phrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to say +to which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be applied +with the greater force--took place in private, only the accused and +the magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, being +present. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis and +Gabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in the +prisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimental +views which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as the +love which it was well known had existed between the brothers since +their birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned, +the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, and +the general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom he +had chiefly lived. + +"My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man's +life and character are not only valueless but misleading when the +passions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate him +utterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angel +to a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himself +for the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, the +judgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is the +victim of delusions." + +Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!" + +"Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely. + +Doctor Louis did not reply. + +"No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence, +and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabric +is destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evident +disinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours he +passed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He is +concealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When I +accused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether his +meeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he was +unable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remark +to which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There are +matters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would be +difficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person to +understand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was his +reply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime I +did not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Have +these mysterious matters between you and your brother of which you +speak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for the +prisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but he +corrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon his +murder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' he +replied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?' +I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, if +you were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely be +justified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, of +course, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal chooses +to intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery, +but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of putting +justice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before our +interview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intended +to persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered a +little, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to one +person only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying that +I would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused to +mention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine, +this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him to +his meditations." + +"Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt." + +"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate. + +"You once entertained an esteem for him." + +"True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of each +other. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldom +remove, hides so much!" + +"So much that is evil?" + +"That is my meaning." + +"You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Late events and a larger experience are driving me in that +direction," replied the magistrate. + +"Have you any objection to granting me a private interview with +Emilius?" + +"None whatever. You have but to name your own time." + +"May Mr. Carew see him also?" + +"If he wishes." + +In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due to +an absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was against +Emilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of the +accused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing what +he felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The one +person to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself." + +To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to Doctor +Louis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversion +which, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards each +other, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must have +been strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt it +his duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia. + +"But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, and +endeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappy +man. He was not successful. + +"There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly to +struggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more so +now. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise." + +Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius. + +"I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refused +the hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," he +said, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge." + +"You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, the +evidence was so black against Emilius. + +"I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogs +our family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyed +Eric; it will destroy me." + +"Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme, +"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reason +for my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have been examined +informed me that there is a certain matter in connection with this +deplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am I +he--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?" + +"I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement to +the magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were, +indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right." + +"And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own free +will. He bears me no friendship." + +"He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though you +have not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I am +sure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power." + +"Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Then +why should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is not +of this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received with +sympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who are +acquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related to +any other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of a +maniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. For +this reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate." + +"Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though I +am groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would not +confide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why you +should be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light of +your belief that Carew bears you no friendship." + +"I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should most +likely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptings +which a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one of +them. I perceive that you do not receive these apparent +inconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not, +through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with my +father, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to you +as a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, would +you not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wild +effort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it not +happened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities and +inconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake you +will be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son." + +Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius his +hand, who again refused it. + +"Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that I +fear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears be +confirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service. +Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, my +father's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder of +my brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, may +be briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, and +grew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric made +her acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should have +been frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patricia +instead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted his +doom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, there +are a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go frankly +to Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is a +question that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty in +answering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here, +and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared her +father; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, is +difficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her own +station in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman. +Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dread +that her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. I +did not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We were +married in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longer +possible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it was +discussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardon +when he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was for +an earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union with +me, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep, +unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' she +said; and I believed it would. + +"This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of my +brother Eric." + + + + + VIII. + + +"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he +recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours +which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her +father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to +wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a +horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken +for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and +Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my +watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when +Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and +upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the +jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with +fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had +had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was +overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that +we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep +without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe +she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made +preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished +her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with +which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it, +and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber. + +"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part +of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night +was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry +moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep. +I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing +was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for, +upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I +had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing +quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I +judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were +aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative. + +"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation? + +"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few +minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible +that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time, +but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's +sleep. + +"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual +existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated +with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a +strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown +to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to +_my_ brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of +love, and who had inspired in _his_ heart feelings akin to my own. The +tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and +the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging +both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another, +which was the chief cause of my violent awaking. + +"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon +which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking +through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious +moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the +ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its +details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind +him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in +its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and +warn him!' + +"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke. + +"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had +come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the +warning? + +"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay. +Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name. +She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing +her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper, +'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!' + +"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I +awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I +might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having +neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by +other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son. + +"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my +absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have +forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is +well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her +breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her. + +"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without +hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the +forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and +recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams. +And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me, +strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him. + +"'Eric!' + +"'Emilius!' + +"But there was no friendliness in his tone. + +"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried. + +"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied. + +"'In search of me?' + +"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must +speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.' + +"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh. + +"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked. + +"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and +tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes; +shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!' + +"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially +all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview. +Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I +succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious +wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me. + +"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should +have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother, +that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It +lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia. +It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.' + +"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I +succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were +guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe +that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his +side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he +had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well, +kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the +witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an +injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart +is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my +reason when I think of my wife and unborn child. + +"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And +then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable +impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him +to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and +that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place, +and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely +dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them. +'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been +fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have +loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.' + +"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest. +I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison." + +"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis. + +"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply. + + + + + IX. + + +Throughout this narration Doctor Louis was impressed by the suspicion +that something was hidden from him. He pressed Emilius upon the point, +and his suspicion was strengthened by the evasive replies he received. + +"Enough, for the present, of myself," said Emilius; "let me hear +something of the outside world--of the world that is dead to me." + +"What do you wish to know?" asked Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Of yourselves," replied Emilius. "Of your good wife, whom I used to +look upon as a second mother. She is well?" + +"She is well," said Doctor Louis, "but in deep unhappiness because of +these terrible events." + +"How does she regard me--as innocent or guilty?" + +"She has the firmest belief in your innocence. When I told her I was +about to visit you, she desired me to give you her love and sympathy." + +"It is like her. And Lauretta?" + +"I did not inform her that I was coming. She is in great distress. You +and Eric were as brothers to her." + +"And now," said Emilius, with a certain recklessness of manner which +puzzled Doctor Louis, "one is dead and the other disgraced. But she +will live through it. She has a happy future before her?" + +He put this somewhat in the form of a question, to which Doctor Louis +replied without hesitation: "We have the best of reasons for hoping +so. But our conversation, Emilius, appears to have taken a heartless +turn. Let us rather consider the chances of establishing your +innocence and setting you free." + +"No, let us continue to speak of your family. There may not be another +opportunity--who knows? My judges may take it into their heads to keep +me in solitary confinement, and to deprive me entirely of the solace +of friendly intercourse, until they have got rid of me altogether. The +chances of establishing my innocence are scarcely worth considering; +they are so slender. Slender! They are not even that. I see no +loophole, nor do you. What is wanted is fact--hard, solid fact, such +as an actual witness, or a frank confession from the murderer. +Everything tangible and intangible is against me. Eric and I were +rivals in a woman's love; we had a meeting, in which we reconciled our +differences, and in which the horror of brotherly hatred was scotched +clean dead. Who were present at this meeting? My dear brother, who is +gone and cannot testify; and I, whose interest it is to say whatever +my tongue can utter in my defence. To prove my innocence I can bring +forward--what? Shadows. I could forgive my judges for laughing at me +were I to set up such a defence. Easier to believe that I killed my +brother in a dream. Could that be proved, there would be some hope for +me, for it might be argued that I was not accountable. Let us dismiss +it. I have told you all I know positively; for the rest, I am strong +enough to keep it to myself, being aware of the manner in which it +would be received." + +"Surely you are not wearied of life!" said Doctor Louis, shocked at +this reckless mood. + +"That is not to the point. Wearied or not, it is not in my power to +choose. Were I free, were my fate in my own hands, it would be worth +my while to consider how to act in order that the crime might be fixed +upon the guilty one. And hearken, Doctor, I am not swayed by impulse; +there is something of inward direction which holds me up. I hear +voices, I see visions--not to be heard or seen or taken into account +in a court of justice; of value only in a prison. They assure me that, +though I may suffer and be disgraced, I shall not die until my +innocence is proved." + +"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed Doctor Louis. + +"Meanwhile, I wait and take the strokes which fate deals out to me. A +crushed manhood, a ruined life, a blasted happiness! And there is a +happy future, you say, before Lauretta? You have every confidence in +Mr. Carew? Lauretta loves him?" + +"With her whole heart." + +"And you and your good wife approve--are content to intrust her +happiness into his keeping?" + +"We are content--we approve." + +"May all be as you hope! Say nothing to them of me. The best mercy +that can be accorded to me is the mercy of forgetfulness. I have a +favour to beg of you." + +"It is granted." + +"You will be kind to my wife; you will not desert her--you will, if +necessary, protect her from her father, who, I fear, will never +forgive her?" + +"I will do all that lies in my power to further your wishes--though I +still hope for a favourable turn in your affairs." + +"Your hope is vain," said Emilius. "I thank you for your promise." + + + + + X. + + +There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminent +lawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their case +was so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. They +pleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerable +point. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character of +the accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, to +acts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts were +not entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but a +chord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it. +A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he was +condemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away, +and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but it +was long before they forgot him. + +These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carew +and Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace to +submit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himself +more than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness to +Lauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered its +healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to +religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of +rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their +honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The +sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly +said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful +auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were +henceforth one. + +They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, +travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters +home betokened that they were perfectly happy. + +"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness +and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. +Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; +heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the +precious gift of a nature so pure?" + +Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had +given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was +ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the +village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had +gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little +missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of +infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first +which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was +the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's +grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta +had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan +during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes +were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not +immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more +her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few +minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of +his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those +faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might +prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. +Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting +apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the +other end of the room. + +"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?" + +"Very, very happy." + +"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever." + +"Yes. I would wish that she should never change." + +"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh. + +"Yes, unhappily." + +"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when +they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to +bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good +life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in +which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that must +count!" + +"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just." + +"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, +after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three +months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things +than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe +anything?" + +"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone. + +"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than +when you saw her last?" + +"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as +if she had passed through a sickness." + +"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly to +her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled +with fears for her." + +"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are +brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them." + +"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes +fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that +has excited her." + +"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. +They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said +during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence of +my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear +mother will grow stronger." + +It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew +weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which +Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the +minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not +longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return. + +"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis. + +It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise +nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these +would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by +his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta +did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even +the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss +of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn +with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the +hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men +and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from +morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, +and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly +left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes +brightened when she was told of this. + +"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free +from temptation and sin!" + +These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel +Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the +terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once +innocent village with blood and crime. + +"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though +they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in +Emilius's innocence." + +"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. +Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'" + +It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the +village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally +applied to her. + +"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble +offerings at her door. + +In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, +was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving +messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wish +being father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all, +a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope +that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad +occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify +their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a +feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel +Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on +Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before +Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He +was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of +that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. +Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in +his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which +he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the +priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and +that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did +not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had +once been friends. + +So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family +the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death. + +"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew. + +There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her +request that they were alone. + +"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be +dealt by as I deal by her!" + +"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You +have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No +thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is +the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing +what was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I have +been much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emilius +to be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breath +I declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one I +loved as my son if I did not say this to you." + +"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?" + +"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe as +I believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her, +if you can. Promise me." + +"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she will +receive help from me." + +"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, +she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one +question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in +your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?" + +"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to +him at such a moment. + +"Absolutely nothing?" + +"Absolutely nothing." + +"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever +darken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, +teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as the +example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter +to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at +him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel." + +He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to +Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of +death. + +Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised +his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn +for resentment or coldness. + +"Pray with me," said the priest. + +Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's +direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners. + +Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned +to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of +the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly +and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly +around her. + +When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. The +shops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly, +and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit was +looking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning of +the funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantities +of simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from Doctor +Louis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds were +singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard. + +"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis to +Lauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she would +like to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how the +years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful +for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly +woman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes." + +And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!" + +The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowers +are growing. + + + + + XI. + + +So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were +they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their +departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not +been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their +favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, +because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his +face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one +who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his +clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed +about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or +for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for +private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too +close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he +entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to +children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and +women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. +Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at +the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person +from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one +servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, +and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the +sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite +purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, +gazing at him. He approached and addressed her. + +"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said. + +"This is it," the servant replied. + +"So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. +Is the master at home?" + +"No." + +"He lives here, doesn't he?" + +"He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, +and has not yet taken up his residence." + +"His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?" + +"Yes. + +"Ah, they're married, then?" + +"Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a +stranger." + +"Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is +he?" + +"It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, +resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name. + +"Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?" + +"You will find him in the village." + +"That's a wide address." + +"He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where +that is." + +"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and +said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?" + +"He left months ago." + +"Left, has he? Where for?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"Because you won't?" + +"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow." + +"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was +brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out +of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil +shake of his head. + +"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can +be no harm in my asking where _have_ you come from--being, as you say, +a stranger in these parts?" + +"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a +different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to +anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for +your information." + +He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no +difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that +something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took +mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was +witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was +taken to its last resting-place. He did not know at the time whether +it was man or woman, and he took no pains to ascertain till the +religious ceremony was over. Then he addressed himself to a little +girl. + +"Who is dead?" + +"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl. + +"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer +to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a +mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if +not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages +which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?" + +"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife." + +"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" +Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?" + +"Dead," said the little girl mournfully. + +"And you are sorry?" + +"Everybody is sorry." + +"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what _he_ said." Again, aloud: +"That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?" + +"Yes." + +"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter?" + +"Yes." + +"Is her husband there--Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out. + +The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled +with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, +gazed at them, as though in the endeavour to fix their faces in his +memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. +None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special +sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away, he followed them at a +little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone +from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because +for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. +Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exactions is not to +be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which +he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the +afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him. + +"You are Father Daniel?" + +"I am." And the priest, with his earnest eyes upon the stranger, said, +"I do not know you." + +"No," replied the man, "I have never seen you before to-day. We are +strangers to each other. But I have heard much of you." + +"From whom?" + +"From Emilius," said the man. + +"Emilius!" cried Father Daniel, and signs of agitation were visible on +his face. "Are you acquainted with him? Have you seen him lately? + +"I am acquainted with him. I saw him three days ago." + +Father Daniel fell back with a sudden impulse of revulsion, and with +as sudden an impulse of contrition said humbly, "Forgive me--forgive +me!" + +"It is I who should ask that," said the man, with a curious and not +discreditable assumption of manliness, in the humbleness of which a +certain remorseful abasement was conspicuous. He bowed his head. +"Bless me, Father!" + +"Do you deserve it?" + +"I need it," said the man; and the good priest blessed him. + +"It is, up to now," said the man presently, raising his head, "as +Emilius told me. But he could not lie." + +"You are his friend?" said Father Daniel. + +"I am not worthy to be called so," said the man. "I am a sinner. He is +a martyr." + +"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me your hand. Nay, I will have it. We +are brothers. No temptation has been mine. I have not sinned because +sin has not presented itself to me in alluring colours. I have never +known want. My parents were good, and set me a good example. They +taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?" + +"And I, Father?" said the man in softened accents. "I! Great God, what +am I?" It was as though a revelation had fallen upon him. It held him +fast for a few moments, and then he recovered his natural self. "I +have never been as yourself, Father. My lot was otherwise. I don't +complain. But it was not my fault that I was born of thieves--though, +mind you, Father, I loved my mother." + +"My son," said Father Daniel, bowing his head, "give _me_ your +blessing." + +"Father!" + +"Give _me_ your blessing!" + +Awed and compelled, the man raised his trembling hands above Father +Daniel's head. When the priest looked again at the man he saw that his +eyes were filled with tears. + +"You come from Emilius." + +"Yes, with messages which I promised to deliver. I have been in prison +for fifteen years. Emilius joined us; we hardened ones were at first +surprised, afterwards we were shocked. It was not long before we grew +to love him. Father, is there justice in the world?" + +"Yes," said Father Daniel, with a false sternness in his voice. "That +it sometimes errs is human. Your messages! To whom?" + +"To one who is dead--a good woman." He lowered his head a moment. "I +will keep it here," touching his breast; "it will do me no harm. To +you." + +"Deliver it." + +"Emilius desired me to seek you out, and to tell you he is innocent." + +"I know it." + +"That is the second. The third is but one word to a man you +know--Gabriel Carew." + +"He is here," said Father Daniel. + +With head bowed down to his breast, Gabriel Carew came from Doctor +Louis's house. His face was very pale. The loss which had fallen upon +him and Lauretta had deeply affected him. Never had he felt so humble, +so purified, so animated by sincere desire to live a worthy life. + +"This man has a message to deliver to you," said Father Daniel to him. + +Gabriel Carew looked at the man. + +"I come from Emilius," said the man, "and am just released from +prison. I promised him to deliver to you a message of a single word in +the presence of Father Daniel." + +In a cold voice and with a stern look Gabriel Carew said, "All is +prepared. What is your message?" + +"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking." + +"I understand." + +"Murderer!" + + + + + XII. + + +In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this +recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate +events, in order that the interest of the story should not be +weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached +will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state +at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's +mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the +village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, +named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have +only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship +whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return +to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there +were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to +settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly +distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the +inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against +him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his +company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for +which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his +flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged +those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing +their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. +Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis +died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the +break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest +contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few +weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his +feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in +his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to +demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by +her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant +persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, +and her new life commenced in a foreign land. + +Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in +England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, +as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that +five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of +Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations +were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The +grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken +of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to +set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always +excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the +master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a +fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not +only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the +gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely +more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was +some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel +Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in +association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I +can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, +we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before +you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you +to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is +removed. + +Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not +necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young +people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. +Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. +For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too +old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls +who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special +privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to +this lady's house. + +From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He +had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his +heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told +me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was +she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of +course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes. + +These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. +In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information +respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father. + +He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and +danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love +with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my +son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of +his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting +light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature. + +For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met +Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young +lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the +house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance +party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty +years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting +her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at +me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight. + +"It would be an excellent match," she said. + +"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?" + +She smiled, and replied, "Well, only in imagination." + +I gave a sigh of relief. I had no wish that Reginald should seriously +compromise himself with a young lady who was a total stranger to me. +She renewed my uneasiness, however, by saying, + +"Yes, only in imagination so far as an actual declaration is +concerned. But, my dear sir, the young people have settled it for +themselves, without consulting wiser and older heads than their own. +It is the way of young people." + +She spoke rather quizzically, as though playing with me for an idle +gratification, and I told her as much. She instantly became serious, +and assured me that had she not approved of the more than liking that +Reginald and Miss Carew had for each other, she would have taken steps +to keep them apart. + +"Then the mischief is done," I said. + +"If you deem it mischief," was her reply. "Yes, it is done. The pair +are passionately in love with each other. But I am mistaken in my +opinion of them if they are not to be trusted. They will do nothing in +secret; when the affair becomes so serious as to render an open +declaration inevitable, they will consult those nearest to them, to +whom they owe a duty. In that respect I will answer for Mildred. You +should be able to answer for Reginald. Now that your eyes are opened, +invite his confidence. Speak to him frankly and lovingly, and he will +conceal nothing from you. I repeat, it would be an excellent match. +She is in every way worthy of him, and he is worthy of her. She is a +lady; her mother is a lady, and the personification of sweetness, +though I fancy sometimes she has a sorrow. But what human being is +perfectly happy? And Mildred's father is a gentleman." + +"Are you well acquainted with him?" I asked. + +"No, not well acquainted. There are few who can say that of him. He is +a man whose absolute friendship it would be hard to gain. All the more +precious, therefore, to him who wins the prize. It might be worth your +while to try, for Reginald's sake. Should his suit be accepted, an +intimacy between you and Mr. Carew is inevitable. You will find him a +man of rare acquirements. You have a leaning towards men and women who +think for themselves, and who have a vein of originality. Mr. Carew +being of this order, you will be naturally drawn to him. A not +inconsequential item in the programme is that he is wealthy, and that +Mildred is his only child. Mrs. Carew and Mildred have just entered +the room. I must go to them; follow me in a moment or two, and I will +introduce you." + +I obeyed her instructions, and in a short time was made known to them. + + + + + XIII. + + +I did not agree with Reginald's estimate of their beauty. He placed +Mildred first, and her mother second. My judgment reversed this order. +Mildred was truly a most beautiful girl, but Mrs. Carew's beauty was +of a quality which, the moment I set eyes on her, impressed me more +deeply than I had ever been in my life by the sight of a woman's face. +It is not only that it is physically perfect, but that there is in it +a spirituality which took my heart and my mind captive. It is as +though the soul of a pure woman is there reflected--of a woman who, if +she ruled the world, would banish from it suffering and injustice. She +is the incarnation of sweetness and gentleness; and yet I could not +avoid observing in her features the traces of a secret sorrow to which +the lady of the house had referred. This indication of a grief nobly +and patiently borne added to her beauty, and deepened the impression +it produced upon me. I am not exaggerating when I say that, standing +before her, I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. Were I a +painter, my ambition would be to fix upon canvas a faithful portrait +of one so pure and lovely. I should call my picture Peace. + +Her daughter differs from her in appearance. Her beauty is of another +type--milder, more full of expression and variety; she has opposite +moods which, as occasion serves, are brought into play in +contradiction of each other. This may render her more captivating to a +young man like Reginald, and were I as young as he I might also find a +greater attraction in the daughter than in the mother. A sweet and +beautiful girl, modest and graceful in all her movements, I was +satisfied that Reginald had chosen well, and at the same time I was +convinced that all the earnestness of his soul was engaged in the +enterprise. + +"I am happy," said Mrs. Carew to me, "to know Reginald's father." + +"No less happy am I," was my rejoinder, "in making the acquaintance of +a lady of whom I have heard so much." + +"Reginald has spoken of me?" + +"Of you and your daughter--continually, from the first evening on +which he had the happiness of meeting you. It was for the purpose of +obtaining an introduction to you that I came here to-night, an +uninvited guest." + +I felt that there must be no concealment in my intercourse with Mrs. +Carew. To be honest and outspoken was the surest way of winning her +friendship. Reginald and Mildred had wandered away, her hand upon his +arm. Mrs. Carew's eyes followed them, tenderly and wistfully. + +"We shall be very happy to see you at Rosemullion," she said; and I +promised to pay her an early visit. + +"Well?" said my hostess, when I left Mrs. Carew's side. + +"I cannot but approve," I answered. "I have never met a sweeter lady. +If the daughter's nature resembles her mother's, and Reginald is +fortunate enough to win her, he will be a happy man." + +My hostess smiled and nodded in satisfaction. An inveterate +match-maker, she was always delighted at the success of her +good-natured schemes. + +On the following day I visited Mrs. Carew, and made the acquaintance +of her husband, Gabriel Carew. I will not waste time by giving a +description of him. What you have already read will have prepared you +for his introduction _in propria persona_. Sufficient to say that I +was favourably impressed, and that I had not been in his company five +minutes before I discovered that the gentleman I was conversing with +was a man of extraordinary erudition and mental compass. I was +fortunate enough to win his favour; he showed me over his library--a +collection made by himself, and which could only have been gathered by +one of superior attainments. That my society was agreeable to her +husband was a manifest pleasure to Mrs. Carew, and once during his +temporary absence to obtain a book of which we had been conversing she +expressed a hope that we should be often together. + +"He is too much of a recluse," she said. "I have wished that he should +mix in society more than he does--indeed, he sees very little of +life--but he has a distaste for it." + +I replied that the distaste of a man like Gabriel Carew to share in +the frivolities of the age was to be easily understood. She answered +wisely, "Surely a little innocent frivolity is not to be condemned. +One may become too serious." + +"Mr. Carew is a student?" I said. + +"From his early youth," she replied, "he has been devoted to +book-lore. His young life was lived here in seclusion, and it was not +till after the death of his parents that he saw anything of the +world." + +Mr. Carew returned, and looked at us smilingly. He touched his wife's +hand lightly, but slight as was the action, there was affection in it. + +"I possess the gift of divination," he said. "You have been speaking +of me?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. + +"And of my love of solitude," he continued. "But what is bred in the +bone--you understand. There are inherited virtues and inherited vices. +The question is, at what point does actual responsibility become a +burden for which we can be justly called to account, and until that +moment, to define its precise relation to committed acts? Is it your +opinion that crime can be justified?" + +"No," I said. + +"Under no circumstances?" + +"Under no circumstances." + +"Early teaching, early habits, transmitted vices of the blood--are +they not factors? A man is an entity--complete possessor of his own +body and soul, which may be pure or hideous according to +circumstances. But you make him arbitrarily accountable. Do not +misunderstand me--I am simply theorising. Nothing of the argument +applies to me except my love of solitude, which is harmless, and hurts +no man. I have had experiences of the world, and have been misjudged. +There was a time when I was angry, when I inwardly rebelled. I do so +no longer. I am content. My wife, my child, my home, my lonely habits, +make up the sum of a fairly happy life. Are you fond of tea?" + +The light question, addressed to me in the midst of serious words, +somewhat startled me. I answered, "Yes;" and upon a motion from her +husband Mrs. Carew left the room to prepare the tea. Gabriel Carew +explained. + +"It is not ordered in this room because of a whim of mine. My wife has +an apartment which is to me a sanctuary of rest, and there it is that +we often sit and read and converse as we drink our tea. She is anxious +about me, but there is really no cause for anxiety. She has an idea +that solitude is affecting my health; she is mistaken; I was never +stronger, never better." He broke off suddenly with the remark, "You +are a physician?" + +"It will be correct to say I was," I replied. "Many years ago I +relinquished practice." + +"So I have heard; and I have also learnt that you held a distinguished +position. I have in my library your book treating of diseases of the +mind, in which you avoid the common ground of demonstrable insanity. +You speak there, if I remember aright, of inherited mental disease." + +"I have devoted two chapters to the theme." + +"And clearly confute," he pursued, "the statement you made just now +that under no circumstances can crime be justified." + +"I made that statement," I said, a little confused by this just +challenge, "from a general standpoint." + +"I speak from an individual standpoint," he remarked. "Which of the +two is the more human? However, this is diverging somewhat. Can you +tell me why, as twilight approaches, a change in my mood works +mysteriously within me? I was gay--I become morose. I was cheerful--I +am sad." + +"Nerves," I said, "affected by external forces. That is the only +answer I can at present give, knowing so little of you." + +Twilight was upon us as we conversed, and I observed that his face was +growing dark. With a strong, healthy, and decided motion he shook off +the influence, and held out his hand to me. + +"Know more of me," he said. "I have been informed of the mutual liking +which has sprung up between my daughter Mildred and your son. We will +speak of this seriously at a future time. Meanwhile, let your son +visit us; my home is open to him and you. I have a horror of +secrecies. We will shape our course in the light. Shall we strive to +be friends?" + +Apart from my inclination to be upon friendly terms with him--in the +first instance born of my anxiety for Reginald's happiness--there was +in Gabriel Carew's manner an irresistible charm, and I now desired his +friendship for my own sake as well as for Reginald's. I met his +advances cordially, and we spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Carew and +Mildred in the room which Carew had likened to a sanctuary. Its +influence upon him was an influence for good. The gloom which had +gathered on his face with the approach of night faded away, and was +replaced by a cheerfulness which found vent in his speech. I was more +than ever surprised at the vast stores of knowledge which he had +acquired. There was not a subject started of which he was not master, +and upon which he was not able to throw a new light, and when we +parted it was with mutual expressions of esteem, and with a mutual +wish that the intimacy thus auspiciously commenced should be allowed +to ripen into a close and genuine friendship. What particularly struck +me was the almost worshipping love Carew entertained for his wife. We +were standing in the garden, when, with a tender, personal application +of a theme we had broached, Carew said: + +"You know the old legend of every human being being accompanied +through life by two angels, one good and one bad each striving to +obtain mastery over him. My good angel is a visible one, and it is +ever by my side." + +He placed his hand upon his wife's shoulder, and she raised her eyes +to his. They gazed upon each other like lovers, and at that moment +there was not upon either face a trace of gloom or sorrow. + +"True love exists between those two," I thought, as I wended my way +home. "The shadows that hover round them are but idle fancies. I +rejoice that a daughter of these noble people has won my son's heart." + + + + + XIV. + + +A general survey of the few months that followed will suffice. There +are many small details which it would be pleasant to dwell upon, but +these may be safely left to the imagination. They consist for the most +part of the episodes which marked the progress of the love affair +between Mildred and Reginald--who, without any distinct declaration +from us, conducted themselves toward each other as an engaged couple. +We elder people tacitly held back from entering into an express +engagement, Mrs. Carew waiting, as it were, upon my movements and +those of her husband. I am in a position to explain the reasons of my +own backwardness in this important matter. Gabriel Carew's reasons +must, for the present, be left to explain themselves. I need scarcely +say that Reginald and Mildred were perfectly happy, being satisfied +that they possessed our sanction to their love. No fault was theirs in +this respect. If blame was due anywhere, we, their parents, were the +persons upon whom it justly fell. + +The hope of a binding friendship between myself and Mr. and Mrs. Carew +was more than fulfilled. Not only did we become firm friends, but the +closest confidential relations were established between us. So much so +that I became acquainted with the history of the inner and outer lives +of Gabriel Carew and his sweet wife. There was little to learn of Mrs. +Carew's life which I had not already imagined; it was a record of +innocence and sweetness. But what I learnt of Gabriel Carew afforded +me food for grave reflection. So intimate were our relations, so +perfect was the confidence he reposed in me, that he concealed nothing +from me. His frankness won my admiration and greatly disturbed me. The +recital of his youthful life, of his midnight wanderings, of his +solitary musings, and afterwards of the death of his parents, of his +entrance into Nerac, of his intimacy with the family of Doctor Louis, +and of the tragic events that occurred in the peaceful village, made +up the sum of the strangest record which had ever been imparted to me. +I confess to being much affected by the fate of Eric and Emilius, and +I asked Carew whether he had heard anything of Emilius of late years. +His reply was that he had heard nothing, and that the unhappy man was +probably dead. + +"You have no doubt that he was guilty?" I asked. + +"Not the slightest doubt," said Carew. + +I was not so sure; the story had excited within me a singular sympathy +for Emilius. + +Now, in what I am about to say with respect to Gabriel Carew, I had, +at that time, I admit, the slightest of grounds; and the powerful +effect a certain suspicion had upon me was all the more singular +because of the absence of reliable evidence. The study I had made for +many years of the different forms in which insanity presents itself +was very captivating to me, and in the course of my researches I +unearthed some weird particulars, of which, were I a writer of +fiction, I could make effective use. Gabriel Carew was an affectionate +husband and father, a faithful mate to his wife, a wise counsellor to +his daughter. He had not a vice which I could discover. He was neither +a spendthrift nor a libertine. He drank in moderation, and he never +gambled; indeed, he detested all games of chance. His views of men and +manners were singularly correct, and denoted a well-balanced brain. It +was only where his affections were concerned that he could be called +in any way extravagant; but this would be accounted rather a virtue +than a vice. His recreations were intellectual, and he sought pleasure +and happiness only in his home and in association with books and his +wife and child. What judgment would you, from a distance, pass upon +such a man? What but that of entire approval? But I was in daily +contact with him, and signs were visible to me which greatly disturbed +me. To speak plainly, I doubted Gabriel Carew's perfect sanity! + +This was a matter of most serious moment. If Carew were not sane, his +disease, so far as I could judge, was of a harmless form. The proof of +this lay in his affection for those of his blood, and--which, in +evidence is, in my opinion, quite as strong--in his tenderness to +animals and birds. But I have to a certainty established not only that +insanity is hereditary, but that what is harmless in the parent may +become destructive in the child. Mildred was Carew's daughter, and to +all appearance as free from any touch of insanity as the most +healthful of human beings. But the germ must be in her, to be +transmitted to her children--to Reginald's children if he married her. + +This consideration impelled me to secret action in the way of inquiry. +It would have been, useless to appeal to Reginald, and to set before +him the probable consequences of such an union. My counsel would have +fallen upon idle ears. My duty, however, was clear. It was for me to +protect him. + +Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me +by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much +which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the +motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was +of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, +anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt +to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to +exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with +hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before +the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear +up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those +early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing +upon his youth. + +"It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom +myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to +you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the +morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, +perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after +sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of +old age." + +I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, +with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these +discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not +mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not +appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person +who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave +a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of +years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any +correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and +he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that +time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, +supposing her to be still living. + +"In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an +address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing +some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said +presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?" + +"Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection." + +Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may +reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you +in your inquiry." + +I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he +had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and +encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle +and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The +next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had +told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me +also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most +intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would +communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her +power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to +pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his +presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the +information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a +sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made +preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of +the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress. + + + + + XV. + + +A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years +of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour +about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most +strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished +her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would +have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her +that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed +to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no +surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. +Carew. + +"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her. + +She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket. + +"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked. + +"He is well," I replied. + +"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she +said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and +never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what +might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he has not carried out his intention?" + +There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right +and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made. + +"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed. + +She nodded assent. + +"As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is +married?" + +She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of +interest within her at this intelligence. + +"Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?" + +"No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year." + +"Is his wife living?" she asked. + +"Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her +portrait?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I +thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. +I handed her the picture. + +"A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me. + +"Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, +beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her." + +"Is she happy?" + +"Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of +love." + +"That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?" + +Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to +give, she took advantage of it. + +"Then he is not happy?" + +"I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere +light curiosity that I have sought you." + +"It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. +You are not here at my bidding." + +"True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from +Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with +him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person +living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of +his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack +of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been +matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, +believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the +case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. +His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting +with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which +reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your +refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was +alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more +hurtful than the truth might have been." + +She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been." + +"But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have +contributed to avert evil consequences?" + +"To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?" + +"To others," I replied. + +"I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that +question. You have more to say." + +"There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. +Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to +your sense of justice would probably weigh with you." + +"It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any +profession?" + +"I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I +practised as a physician." + +"In a general way, or as a specialist?" + +"Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon +certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you +would like to read it." + +"It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should +have devoted myself to that branch of the profession." + +I gave her the book, which she placed aside. "It is not, however, +solely in that capacity," I said, "that I am here. That certain +indefinite impressions, springing from my professional experiences, +have prompted me, I do not deny; but my strongest reasons are private +ones. Is it your belief that insanity is hereditary and ineradicable?" + +"That is my firm belief," she said. + +"It is also mine. Mrs. Fortress, are you a married woman?" + +"I married a few months after I left Mr. Carew's service. Within two +years of my marriage I lost my husband." + +"Have you any children?" + +"One--a son." + +"Who must be now approaching manhood?" + +"Yes." + +"That is my case. My wife is dead, and I have an only child--a +son--who is deeply in love with Gabriel Carew's daughter." + +This introduction of Miss Carew threw Mrs. Fortress off her guard; +there was a startled flash in her eyes. + +"I am sorry to hear," she said, "that Mr. Carew has a daughter. Has he +other children?" + +"No. Mildred Carew is, like your son and mine, an only child. I +purposely brought three things with me, in the hope that they would +help me in my purpose. Two you have--my book and the portrait of +Gabriel Carew's wife. Here is the portrait of his daughter." + +She examined it with the greatest interest, and remarked that she saw +no resemblance in it to the father. + +"That has struck me," I observed; "neither does she resemble her +mother in any marked manner. But that sometimes happens, though it is +not the rule." + +"Is there an engagement between your son and Miss Carew?" + +"They are courting each other, with a view to marriage." + +"With your consent?" + +"Yes, but it was given before I became intimate with Mr. Carew." + +"And since then you have repented?" + +"I have been greatly disturbed." + +"Rather," she said slowly, "than my son should marry a daughter of Mr. +Carew's, I would see him in his grave." + +This declaration profoundly agitated me, so far did it go to confirm +me in my suspicions. "I asked you a question a few moments since," I +said, "and you said you would wait a little before you answered it. +Will you answer it now?" + +"Your question was, 'Had a painful truth been revealed to Mr. Carew +when he was a single gentleman, whether it might have averted evil +consequences to others.'" + +"You have stated it correctly." + +"It might have done," she said. "But it appeared to me that Mr. Carew +was the last man in the world to attract a woman's heart. I often said +to myself, 'He will never marry.'" + +"You were mistaken." + +"I was; and I say again I am sorry." She took from her pocket the +letter I had given her from Mr. Carew, and read it carefully and +slowly, in a new light it seemed to me. Even when she had finished the +perusal she did not immediately speak, but sat in silent thought a +while. + +"I am not a tender-hearted woman," she said, "and not easy to move +when I pledge myself. Mr. Carew's father behaved well to me, and +fulfilled his promise of providing for me if it was in his power to do +so after the death of his wife. I, on my part, kept the two promises I +made him when I entered his service. The first was not to leave his +service during the lifetime of his wife; the second not to divulge, +without powerful cause, the secret of the unhappy inheritance he +feared his wife had transmitted to their son. When I bade farewell to +Mr. Gabriel Carew in Rosemullion, I saw no such cause for divulging +the secret, and I declined to satisfy my young master. It may be +different now, and I may be tempted to satisfy _you_." + +"Out of your sense of justice?" I observed. + +"Not entirely. Mr. Carew's letter contains the offer of a reward." + +I met her instantly and with eagerness. "I am prepared to pay it." + +"It happens that I am in need of a sum of money. An opportunity is +open to my son which will be to his advantage, but I am not rich +enough to purchase it." + +"How much is needed?" I asked. + +She named a sum which was modest in comparison with the limit which +Gabriel Carew had given me, and I at once consented to pay it to her +for her information. I had money with me, and I counted out the amount +she required, and handed it to her. After ascertaining that it was +correct, she commenced. + +"When I accepted the situation Mr. Carew offered me, I did it with my +eyes open. I was at that time employed in a lunatic asylum, and was +dissatisfied with my rate of pay. Mr. Carew offered me higher terms. +His wife was a dangerous woman, and needed constant watching. Properly +speaking, she should have been placed in an asylum, but the thought of +so doing was hateful to her husband, who desired to keep his domestic +affliction from public knowledge. He would have regarded such a +disclosure as an indelible disgrace. There are similar secrets in many +families. At the time he married her, he had no suspicion that her +blood was tainted, and it was only three months before the birth of +Gabriel Carew that he made the discovery. I do not profess to be +thoroughly familiar with all the particulars; I am not a prying woman, +and was contented with what he told me. When he made the dreadful +discovery he and his wife were abroad, and the occasion of it, so far +as I could gather, ran in this fashion. Mr. Carew was occupying a +house in Switzerland--he was rich at the time--and was entertaining +guests. Among them was a false friend who was managing his affairs in +England, where Mr. Carew lived for the greater part of every year. +Ultimately this friend robbed him of his fortune, which Mr. Carew +never recovered, coming, however, into another later on, which enabled +him to purchase the estate of Rosemullion. One evening there was a +large party in Mr. Carew's house, in which his friend was stopping. +Mrs. Carew was passionately fond of music, and there was a Tyrolean +air for which she had an infatuation. She sang and played it again and +again, and became much excited. It is not out of place to say that she +was a very beautiful woman. The evening passed on, and the guests had +departed. All but one--her husband's false friend, who was stopping in +the house. Either his duties as a polite host or some other business +called her husband away, and Mrs. Carew and this friend were left +alone. He asked her to play and sing again, and she did so for him; +and then he made love to her. She repulsed him indignantly, but he was +not to be easily daunted, and a climax arrived when he grossly +insulted her. This roused her to fury, and she caught an ornamental +dagger---but a weapon capable of mischief--from the table, and would +have plunged it into his heart had he not caught her wrist and +disarmed her. He flung the dagger away, and then coolly told her that +her husband had implicit confidence in him, and that he would invent a +story that would ruin her. He told her, too, that he had her husband +in his power, that she and he were at his mercy, and that he could +beggar them at any moment. There occurred then a singular change in +her; her excitement left her, and she became as cool as he. Deceived +by this, he renewed his suit, but she held him back, and she said one +word to him: 'Wait!' To wait meant to hope, and he said he would be +content if she would play and sing to him again. She did so--the same +Tyrolean air she had sang so many times on this evening. Her husband +came in, and the scene ended. In describing it I am drawing from what +Mr. Carew told me afterwards in England. But the incident was not to +end there. Mr. Carew and his wife retired, and he, awakening in the +middle of the night, missed her from his side. He started up, and saw +that her clothes were gone. At the moment of the discovery he heard a +cry, and he ran from the room. He saw his wife approaching him; she +was fully dressed, and she held in her hand the ornamental dagger, +which was stained with blood. There was a smile on her lips, but +although he stood straight in front of her, with a candle in his hand, +she did not appear to see him. She passed by without a word or look of +recognition. He followed her to their bedroom, and there she laid the +dagger aside, undressed, and went to bed. She had been all the time +fast asleep. When she was abed he looked at the blood-stains on the +dagger; there was no wound upon her; from whom came the blood? From +whence the cry? The direction from which his wife had come was that of +the room occupied by his friend. He went there, and found his guest +just reviving from a state of insensibility caused by a stab in his +breast while he was asleep. Mr. Carew could form but one conclusion, +and his sole aim now was that the matter should be kept quiet. In this +he succeeded, having invented a story which his friend professed to +believe, and into which Mrs. Carew's name was not introduced. It +suited Mr. Carew's friend not to dispute the invented story; his wound +was not very serious, and he subsequently repaid the injury by +beggaring the man who had reposed entire confidence in him, and whose +wife he had attempted to lead to her ruin. Mr. Carew could not +immediately question his wife, for the next morning she was +dangerously ill. The ordinary doctors who were called in did not +appear to understand the case, and eventually Mr. Carew consulted a +foreign specialist of renown, who informed him that there was insanity +in his wife's blood, and that it would most likely assume a phase in +which there would be danger to those about her. This alarmed Mr. +Carew, not for his own sake, but for his wife's. There was a law in +that part of the country, which, put in force, would have removed Mrs. +Carew from his care, and he made haste for England, where he would +feel safe. Thus far in his wife's illness no dangerous symptoms were +visible, and he flattered himself into the belief that the foreign +doctor was wrong in the opinion he had given. The most marked +characteristic of the disease manifested itself in a harmless fashion, +being simply a sentimental passion for the Tyrolean air Mrs. Carew had +sung so many times on the night when the hidden seed of insanity began +to grow. Under these conditions Gabriel Carew was born. She insisted +upon nursing the child, which, had I been in their service at the +time, I should not have allowed. When Gabriel was two years of age, +the dangerous symptoms of which the foreign doctor had warned Mr. +Carew began to manifest themselves, and I was engaged as nurse. Mr. +Carew had lost his fortune then, but he was not entirely without +means, the largest portion of which was spent upon his wife. He paid +me liberally, his one desire in life being to keep the skeleton of his +home concealed, not only from the world, but from the knowledge of his +son. He thought that, growing up in ignorance of his mother's +condition, Gabriel might escape the contagion. I thought differently, +but we had no discussions on the subject. He had engaged me to perform +a certain duty, and I performed it--there it ended. I had nothing to +do with consequences. After Mr. Carew took possession of Rosemullion +his wife became worse; there were weeks together when no person but I +could approach her with safety. I had perfect control over her. She +was obedient, through fear, to my lightest word. It was certainly +merciful that the sad secret, having been so long concealed from +Gabriel, should remain so. If mischief were done, it was not now to be +averted. This is the explanation of Gabriel Carew's lonely boyhood +life, and it will possibly help to explain any strange peculiarities +you may have observed in him. I do not consider I have violated the +second promise I gave to his father--that I would not divulge without +powerful cause the secret of Gabriel Carew's unhappy inheritance. +There seems to me here to be cause sufficient for secrecy not to be +any longer observed. My tongue being now unsealed, I am ready to reply +to any questions you may ask." + + + + + XVI. + + +Mrs. Fortress's statement made everything clear to me, and also marked +out for me a clear path of duty. Knowing what I now knew, it would +have been an act of monstrous wickedness to allow Reginald to marry +Mildred. Never could I hope to be forgiven did I not prevent the +union. Better that my son should live a life of unhappiness through +all his days than enter into a contract which would doom the unborn to +madness--perhaps to crime. It was not only an offence against man, it +was an offence against God. The task before me was difficult, I knew; +but I must face it bravely and without flinching. Hearts would be +broken in the struggle--well, better that than the awful consequences +which would follow such a marriage. My own heart bled as I +contemplated what must occur during the next few weeks. + +Thus did I excitedly reason with myself in the first heat of the +revelation. When I became cooler I saw more clearly the difficulties +in my way. What evidence had I to produce? That of an old woman who +had given me certain information--which tallied with my own +suspicions--for a large sum of money. A cunning woman, to supply +me with what she saw I wished. Cunning from the first. Paid +liberally--nay, extravagantly--always, according to her own +confession. Her one single motive in the matter from first to +last--money. Was it likely, being in service so temptingly +remunerative, that she should not adopt every cunning means to retain +it? There was not only the immediate pay, but the prospect of a reward +which would make her comfortable for life. She had so man[oe]uvred +that she gained this reward. During the lifetime of Gabriel Carew's +mother Mrs. Fortress held supreme power over her. Her son was only +allowed to see her a few minutes at a time at intervals of weeks. Even +her husband, at the bidding of this clever woman, was denied +admittance to his wife's chamber. What difficulty was there, in those +days and weeks of seclusion, to so oppress, irritate, and torture the +poor patient as to compel her to put on the semblance of madness--to +drive her into it indeed? Such cases were not unknown. Even now, from +time to time, the public heart is stirred by a sudden revelation of +such atrocities. + +These were cogent arguments which I raised against myself. With myself +in my son's place I should confidently advance them, and should laugh +to scorn the weak opposition which would bar my way to happiness. I +sighed as I thought. The obstacles in my way were every moment growing +more formidable. + +These were not the only arguments against myself which occurred to me. +There was Mrs. Fortress's conduct when she left Rosemullion after the +death of her mistress. Gabriel Carew had made a pitiful appeal to her. +How had she met him? By assuming a mysterious air, indicating that she +had the key to a secret in which he was vitally interested, but that +she did not intend to give it to him. Why had she done this? Who could +doubt the answer to such a question? It was necessary to the _rôle_ +she had adopted. Any other course would have led to an exposure of her +vile scheme. There was the legacy which Mr. Carew left her in his +will. Were the real truth known she might be deprived of it. +Therefore, the assumption of mystery in her last interview with +Gabriel Carew. A cunning woman indeed. + +Against evidence so flimsy there was a heavy weight of testimony. Was +not Gabriel Carew a loving husband and father? No person could dispute +it. He loved his wife and child, and they loved him. Was he ever known +to commit a cruel act! Never. Was not his purse ever open to the call +of charity? Innumerable instances that such was so could be adduced. +Could even light acts of rudeness and incivility be laid at his door? +What was the worst that could be said of him? That he was not fond of +society, that he was a recluse. Could not this be said of hundreds of +estimable men, and was it ever put forth as a distinct offence? If he +did not himself go into society, did he prevent his wife and child +from doing so? On the contrary. He encouraged them to seek amusement +which he, a grave man and a student, possibly deemed frivolous. Fond +of books, seeking his greatest pleasures in them, was not this +distinctly in his favour, and did it not prove him to be of a superior +nature to the common herd? The heaviest charge was that which, in +conversation with me, he had brought against himself--that on the +approach of night his spirits became gloomy. Slight grounds indeed for +so serious an accusation as insanity. Madmen were proverbially +cunning. Gabriel Carew was the soul of frankness, himself opening up +discussions which would tell against him were he not mentally and +physically sound and healthy. I began to despair. + +These reflections did not all pass through my mind in the silence +which followed the conclusion of Mrs. Fortress's statement. They are +the summing-up of my thoughts at that time and during my homeward +journey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fortress was waiting patiently for me to put +any questions which might occur to me. + +"Beyond yourself, Mrs. Fortress," I said, "and your master and +mistress, was there no person cognisant with Mrs. Carew's condition?" + +"None, sir, with the exception of the foreign doctor." + +"Can you tell me his name?" + +"I do not know it, but a doctor of his learning would not have been a +young man when Mr. Carew consulted him, and it is hardly likely he +would be now living." + +"True," I said. + +"Besides," she added, "his experience of Mrs. Carew could have been +but slight. Almost immediately after he gave Mr. Carew his opinion of +my mistress, they left for England, as I have told you." + +"Yes," I remarked, "and he may, after all, have been mistaken." + +She shrank a little, I fancied, but she said firmly, "He may have +been, I was not." + +"I am not doubting you, Mrs. Fortress," I said. + +She interposed here by saying, "It is immaterial whether you are or +not. The facts are as I have stated them." + +"I understand, of course, that you have spoken honestly, but is it not +possible you may have judged wrongly?" + +"I cannot admit it, sir," she replied with calm dignity. "It is not +possible." + +Certainly she maintained her ground. I continued my inquiry. + +"Before Mr. Carew came into his second fortune he lived humbly in +London?" + +"Yes; in poor lodgings." + +"Did the house contain other lodgers?" + +"Yes." + +"And did not any of them suspect or discover the mystery so close to +them?" + +"In my belief not another person in the house had any suspicion." + +"You lived for many years in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Did not Mrs. Carew have a medical adviser?" + +"A doctor called and saw her from time to time." + +"Was he not aware of her condition?" + +"He was not. His visits were a mere matter of form, and he frequently +called at the house without seeing my mistress." + +"By whose directions was she denied to him?" + +"By mine. It was part of my duty to preserve my master's secret." + +"I am sure you did your duty, Mrs. Fortress." + +Her lip curled. She did not thank me. + +"Did this doctor ever see Mrs. Carew alone?" + +"Never. I took care always to be present, and I always prepared my +mistress for his visits, warning her to be careful." + +"Did she never rebel?" + +"With respect to the doctor, never. I had my difficult days with her, +but that was my business, and mine alone." + +"He must have been a careful and conscientious man," I said somewhat +sarcastically. + +She capped me by replying, "His accounts were regularly paid. Perhaps +that was sufficient for him." + +"Perhaps," I said, and I could not avoid a smile, though I was really +indignant. "Can you tell me anything more to guide me? Do you think it +was Mr. Carew's intention to keep his son in complete ignorance of +this misfortune, even after the death of your mistress?" + +"I am not positive. My master died during a visit to Wales, while my +mistress was still living. It is probable, had he survived his wife, +that he would have spoken to his son on the subject. I cannot say for +certain, but, from certain words he once used I believe he left some +record behind him." + +This suggestion aroused me. + +"Some written record?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"Where would he have deposited it?" + +"In Rosemullion my master had his private room, into which no one was +allowed to enter. There are large safes built in the walls of that +room. If the record I believe my master made is found anywhere, it +will be in that room. I have nothing more to say, sir. I have told you +all I know. Whether you believe me or not does not concern me. When +you see Mr. Gabriel, sir, give him my humble duty." + + + + + XVII. + + +I returned to Rosemullion in a very disturbed frame of mind. The +nearer I approached the abode of mystery the stronger grew my doubts +of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement. All she had related was in +such complete accordance with a cunningly carried out scheme, whereby +the innocent were made to suffer, and she--the plotter--made +comfortable for life, that I accused myself for my egregious folly in +giving her story credence, and listening to it patiently. It was, +however, impossible to allow the matter to stand as Mrs. Fortress had +left it. Some further inquiry must take place, and my doubts cleared +up before I would give my consent to the union of my son with Gabriel +Carew's daughter. I did not dare to run a risk so great until my mind +was fairly at ease. It was a relief to me when I reached my home that +Reginald was not there to greet me. I knew what the tenor of his +conversation would be, and I wished to avoid it. He had, indeed, but +one theme: Mildred; his heart and soul were meshed in his absorbing +love for the fair girl to whom there was a likelihood of a most +terrible inheritance having been transmitted. + +I proceeded without delay to Rosemullion, and the first person who +greeted me on the threshold was Mrs. Carew. She expressed her +satisfaction at my return, and upon my inquiring for her husband, said +that he was in his study, but that before I saw him she wished to have +a few private words with me. It was then that I noted signs of trouble +in her face. She led me to the apartment which Gabriel Carew had +described as a sanctuary of rest, and at her bidding I sat down and +awaited the communication she desired to make to me. + +She commenced by saying that her husband had such complete confidence +in me and she such faith in my wisdom, that, having a weight at her +heart which was sorely disturbing her, she had resolved to ask my +advice, as a friend upon whom she could rely. I replied that her faith +and her husband's confidence were not misplaced, and that it was my +earnest wish to assist her if it lay in my power. + +"It is not without my husband's permission," she said, "that I am +speaking to you now. He knows that I am uneasy about him, and he +himself suggested that I should consult you upon your return from +Cornwall." + +I was startled at learning that she was not ignorant of my visit to +Mrs. Fortress; I imagined that the affair was entirely between me and +Mr. Carew. I asked her if she was acquainted with the precise object +of my visit. + +"No," she replied; "only that you have been on a visit to a nurse who +was in the service of my husband's family before the death of his +parents. I did not seek for further information, and my husband did +not volunteer any. Neither is he acquainted with the details of the +matter I am about to open to you. I thought it best to keep it from +him until I obtained counsel from a near and dear friend." + +I inclined my head, and she continued: + +"My husband informs me that he has related to you the fullest +particulars of his life, and that he has unbosomed himself to you with +an unreserved confidence, such as no other person in the world has +been able to inspire." + +"It is true," I said, "and I hold his confidence sacred, to be used +only for our good." + +"And for the good of our children," she said. + +"Yes," I said, conscious of a strange note in my voice as I repeated +the words, "and for the good of our children." + +She detected the unusual note, gazed steadily at me for a moment, and +proceeded, without commenting upon it. + +"Knowing so much, you are familiar with my husband's nightly +wanderings in the woods when he resided here with his parents?" + +"Yes." + +"He was aware of these nocturnal rambles?" she said. "He undertook +them consciously?" + +"Certainly." + +"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?" + +"Always," I replied, surprised at the question. + +"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with +respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept +anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to +save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had +concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. +Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their +impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. +'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless +life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As +Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it." + +"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange +note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend." + +"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had +any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when +he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times +and under certain circumstances. He did so last night." + +"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired. + +"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason +for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would +have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so +disturbed me that I can no longer be silent." + +My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. +Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, +of his mother's disease. + +"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for +some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were +these circumstances of a special nature?" + +"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which +he feared danger." + +"To himself?" + +"I think not. To me and Mildred. I recall three occasions, which will +supply you with an index to the whole. Once there were reports in the +papers of a number of burglaries being committed in the neighbourhood, +accompanied by deeds of violence. The burglars--there were three, as +was subsequently proved--were at liberty, and the efforts made to +discover and arrest them met with no success for several weeks. During +that period my husband rose regularly every night from bed, dressed +himself, and went out of the house, always returning, dressed as he +left the room. On one of these occasions I followed and watched him, +and discovered that his aim was to guard us from danger. He remained +in the grounds around the house, holding a pistol. His actions were +those of an earnest, watchful guardian, and were guided by the most +singular caution. Sometimes he would hide behind a tree, or crouch +down, concealed from view. When he was satisfied that there was no +longer any danger, he returned to the house, stepping very softly, and +examining the fastenings of the doors and windows." + +"Did he rise in the morning with the appearance of a man who had +passed a disturbed night?" + +"No; he was always cheerful, and appeared to be quite refreshed by +what he believed to be a good night's rest. At length, when the +burglars were arrested he left the house no more for many months, +until a workman whom he had employed, and whom he had reason to +discharge, uttered threats against us. Then he again commenced his +nightly watch, which did not cease until he received information that +the man had left the country. After that he enjoyed a long period of +repose. The third occasion was when there was a report of the escape +of a dangerous madman from a lunatic asylum three or four miles from +Rosemullion. Until this man was once more in safe custody, my husband +never missed a night's watch during his sleep. You will gather from +this explanation that he was always actuated by a good motive--to +guard and protect those whom he loves." + +"That seems clear," I said, "and what you have related is especially +interesting to me as a specialist, apart from my sincere friendship +for you and yours." + +"As a specialist!" she exclaimed. "Of what kind?" + +Fortunately I arrested myself in time. The words which immediately +suggested themselves to me in reply, remained unspoken. The truth +would have been too great a shock to this sweet lady. + +"As one deeply interested," I answered, with an assuring smile, "in +psychological mysteries. What occurred yesterday to excite Mr. Carew?" + +"He and I had been out riding. Upon our return one of our gardeners +informed my husband that a man had been seen lurking about the +grounds. The story told by the gardener is this: The stranger, a +foreigner, although he spoke good English, did not wait to be accosted +by the gardener, but himself opened a conversation. He asked if this +was Rosemullion. Yes. Did a family of the name of Carew live here? +Yes. Was Mrs. Carew alive? Yes. Was Mr. Carew alive? Yes. Did they +have any family? Yes, a daughter. What was her name? Miss Mildred. +Could he see Mrs. Carew? Mrs. Carew was out driving. When would I +return, and was there any possibility of the stranger seeing me alone? +The gardener could not say. It was not I, but my husband who put these +questions to the gardener. Then Mr. Carew asked sternly what was the +bribe that induced the gardener to answer the inquiries of a stranger, +and he forced the truth from him. The stranger had given the gardener +a foreign coin, which my husband insisted upon seeing. It was a piece +of French money. This part of the affair is completed by the admission +of the gardener that the stranger was apparently in poverty, as his +poor clothes betokened--and yet he had given the gardener money to +answer his questions! When the gardener was gone my husband said that +the circumstance was very suspicious, and I thought so myself; that +the stranger had some bad motive in thus intruding upon private +property, and that he would go in search of him. I asked to be allowed +to accompany him, and after a slight hesitation he consented, saying +if the stranger came with innocent intent and we met him, that he +could say what he had to say to me in my husband's presence. We +strolled all round the grounds of Rosemullion, but saw no stranger. +Then my husband said he would go into the woods, and that I had better +leave him; but I, fearing I knew not what, begged to be allowed to +remain with him. Together we went into the woods, and for a long while +met no person answering the description given by the gardener; but +after a while we saw a stranger a few yards in front of us. It +happened that I was a little ahead of my husband at that moment, and +the stranger, turning and seeing me, thought that I was alone. He was +about to hasten towards me when my husband stepped to my side. Without +hesitation the stranger abruptly turned from us, and, plunging into +the woods, was immediately lost to view." + +Something in Mrs. Carew's manner at this point--which I should find it +difficult to explain--some premonition that this man she called a +stranger was really not so to her--caused me to ask, + +"You saw his face?" + +"Yes." And at this answer, tremblingly spoken, my premonition became a +certainty. + +"You recognised it?" + +"Unless I am much mistaken--and with all my heart I pray to heaven I +may be!--it was a face once familiar to me." + +It was not now for me to pursue the subject; it was for her to confide +freely in me, if such was her desire. There was a silence of a few +moments before she resumed: + +"My husband, having hidden nothing from you, has told you all that +occurred in my dear native village, Nerac, before we were married?" + +"He has told me all, I believe," I said. + +"Of my beloved parents--of friends once dear to me--Eric, murdered, +and the unhappy Emilius?" + +"I am acquainted with all the particulars of that tragic event." + +"Sadly changed, worn, haggard, and travel-stained, in the man we met +in the forest I recognised Emilius." + + + + + XVIII. + + +This, indeed, was startling news. Emilius alive, his term of +imprisonment over, or he an escaped convict, seeking an interview with +Mrs. Carew, the wife of the man whom he regarded as his bitterest +enemy! To what was this to lead?--in what way was it to end? + +"Did Mr. Carew recognise him?" I asked. + +"I cannot tell you," replied Mrs. Carew. "Not a word passed between us +respecting him. _I_ did not dare to speak. It would but have been to +reopen old wounds, and after all I may have been mistaken. Not for me +to bring back to my husband the memories of a past in which he was so +cruelly misjudged. Besides, this was the one and only subject upon +which my husband and I were not in harmony. He most firmly believed +and believes in Emilius's guilt; I as firmly believed and believe in +his innocence. The years that have flown have not softened my +husband's judgment nor hardened mine; and until this hour the name of +Emilius has never passed my lips since we settled in Rosemullion. No, +it was not for me to utter it in my husband s presence; it was not for +me to bring pain to his kind heart. I said nothing, nor did my +husband, nor did he attempt to follow the stranger. In silence we +walked back to the house, and the evening passed as usual. Reginald +came, and we had music and conversation. On the part of Mildred and +your son converse was cheerful and unconstrained, and I also strove to +be cheerful. I was so far successful as to deceive the children, but +my husband was not so easily blinded. And yet he made no allusion to +the subject which engrossed my thoughts, and weighed like a dark cloud +upon my heart. The hour grew late, and I sent Reginald home. Young +people in love have always to be reminded. Then my husband and I +retired to rest. Troubled as I was, sleep was long in coming to me, +but at length Nature was merciful, and I sank into slumber. I awoke at +the soft chiming of our silver clock, proclaiming the hour of two. +Never do I remember being awoke by the chiming of this clock, so low +and sweet is it; and that I should awake now as it struck two may have +been simply a coincidence. I sat up in bed. I was alone. My husband +was not in the room; his clothes were gone, and he had doubtless gone +out fully dressed. In great fear I rose and dressed, with the +intention of following him, but when I tried the door I found it had +been locked on the outside. Powerless to do anything but wait, I sat, +trembling, till daylight began to peep in at the windows. Then I heard +my husband's footsteps in the passage, which would not have reached my +ears had not my senses been preternaturally sharpened. He trod softly, +and turned the key in the door very gently in order not to disturb me. +He entered the room, and I almost fainted as I saw in his hand the +bright blade of an ancient dagger which usually lay upon his study +table. His face was turned towards me, his eyes were open, but he did +not see me. He took from his pocket a sheath, in which he placed the +dagger, and then he undressed. Before he lay down to that more +healthful sleep in which his mind would be at rest, he listened two or +three times at the locked door, and going to the window, drew the +blind a little aside and looked from the window. Then he stretched +himself in bed, and his eyes closed. Not by the least sign did he show +any consciousness of the fact that I was standing, dressed, in the +room, and that we were often face to face. I soon retired to bed, but +I slept no more. I lay awake, listening to my husband's breathing, +praying for the hour to arrive at which we generally rose for the +day--praying for that, praying that the night would not come again, +praying for a friend to counsel me. It were vain for me to disguise +from you that I am in dread of what may happen should my husband and +Emilius meet. And there is still something more----" + +I waited, but she left the sentence uncompleted. Startled as I was by +what I had heard, I was even more startled to see this good and gentle +woman suddenly cover her face with her hands, and burst into a passion +of tears. I turned from her in commiseration, powerless to relieve or +console her. Even had I words at command, it was better that her grief +should be allowed to spend itself naturally. When she had recovered, I +asked, + +"Has Mr. Carew made any reference to what passed in the night?" + +"Not any," she replied. + +"Did you?" + +"I simply asked him if he had slept well, and he answered 'Yes,' and +that his sleep had been dreamless." + +"Will you pardon me for the question whether you believe that to be +really so--whether his answer to your solicitous inquiry was not +prompted by his desire not to trouble or distress you?" + +"I am certain," said Mrs. Carew, "that my husband said what he +believes to be true. Dear friend, what am I to do?" + +She seized my hand, and clung to it as though to me, and to me alone, +could she look for help in her sad position. + +"Does Mildred know anything, suspect anything?" I asked. + +What was the meaning of the timid, frightened, helpless look in her +eyes at the mention of Mildred's name? No mental efforts of mine could +fathom it. + +"Nothing," she replied, and then seemed to drift, against her will as +it were, into distressful thought. I devoted a few moments to +consideration, and when I spoke again had resolved upon a course of +action. + +"Would you wish me to become your guest for a few days?" I asked. + +"Ah, if you would!" she exclaimed. + +"I shall be willing if Mr. Carew has no objection. I will see him +presently and ascertain. But first I have a little scheme to carry out +which I think advisable for all our sakes." + +I asked her if I could write a letter in her room, and despatch it at +once to my house, and she opened her desk for me. My letter was to my +son Reginald, and the effect of it was to secure his absence from +Rosemullion during my stay in Mr. Carew's house. There was really a +matter of business which Reginald could attend to, and which rendered +it necessary for him to take his immediate departure for London. When +my letter was written, I explained its purport to Mrs. Carew, and she +acquiesced in the wisdom of my plan. She herself added a few words to +the letter, to the effect that she regretted not being able to see him +before he left, and that Mildred was well and sent her love. She gave +me a flower, and asked me to enclose it in the envelope. + +"He will think it comes from Mildred," she said, "and it will send him +away happy. It is an innocent deceit." + +The letter was despatched, and with a few assuring words to the sweet +woman, I went to her husband's study. + + + + + XIX. + + +I observed a change in him. Something of his inner life was reflected +in his face, the expression upon which was stern and moody. It +softened a little when he shook me by the hand. I asked him if he was +well, and he answered yes, but troubled by a strange presentiment of +evil. He remarked that he was on the eve of momentous circumstances in +his life which boded ill. I did not encourage him to indulge in this +vein, but proceeded to relate as much of my interview with Mrs. +Fortress as I deemed it wise and necessary to impart. He listened to +me patiently and reflectively, and when I had finished, said: + +"You have given me food for reflection. I have in you a confidence so +perfect that I place myself unreservedly in your hands. I will be +guided completely by your counsels; my confidence in myself is much +shaken. What do you advise?" + +"This is the study," I said, "which your father used to occupy?" + +"It is," he replied; "and no person was allowed to enter it without +his permission." + +"After his death you searched in it for his private papers?" + +"I did, and found very little to satisfy me. I hoped to discover +something which would throw light upon the strange habits of our life +and home. I was disappointed." + +At my request he showed me the method by which the safe was opened, +and the ingenuity of the device caused me to wonder that he had found +nothing of importance within its walls. I was, however, convinced that +there was in the study some clue to the mystery of Carew's boyhood's +home--although I could not help admitting to myself that it needed but +faith in Mrs. Fortress's statement to arrive at a correct solution. +But I required further evidence, and I resolved to search for it. + +"As you have placed yourself in my hands," I said, "you will not +object to comply with two or three slight requests." + +"There is little you can ask," was his response, "that I am not ready +to accede to." + +"Invite me to remain here as your guest for a few days." + +"I do." + +"Allow me to occupy this room alone until I retire to bed." + +"Willingly." + +"And promise me that you will not leave the house without first +acquainting me of your intention." + +"I promise." + +A little while afterwards he left me to myself, saying that if I +wished to see him I should find him with his wife. When he revealed to +me the secret method by which the safe was worked, he did not close +the panel; it remained open for my inspection, and I now made an +examination of the interior without finding so much as a scrap of +paper. This was as I expected; if Gabriel Carew's father left +documents behind him, they must be searched for elsewhere. A careful +study of the room led me to the conclusion that the massive +writing-table was the most likely depository. The working of the safe +was a process much too tedious for a man who wished for easy access to +his papers; the writing-table offered the means of this, and I turned +my attention to it. I do not wish to be prolix, and I therefore omit a +description of the painfully careful examination of every point in +this massive piece of furniture. Suffice it that, after at least an +hour's search, my endeavours were rewarded. In one of the legs of the +table on the inner side, quite undiscoverable without a light, I felt +a depression just large enough to receive the ball of my thumb. I +pressed hard, and although there was no immediate result, I fancied I +detected a slight yielding, such as might occur when pressing upon a +firm spring which had been disused for many years. I pressed harder, +with all my strength, and I suddenly heard a sharp click. I found that +this proceeded from the skirting of oak immediately above the leg I +was manipulating. I had carefully examined the skirting all round the +table without being able to discover any signs of a drawer. Now, +however, one had started forward, and I had no difficulty in pulling +it open. My heart beat more quickly as I drew from it a manuscript +book and a few loose sheets of foolscap paper. The writing was large +and plain; ink of such a quality had been used that the lapse of years +had had but a slight effect upon it. In less than a minute I satisfied +myself that the handwriting was that of Gabriel Carew's father. + +The book first. I read it attentively through. It was a record of the +circumstances of the married life of Gabriel Carew's parents, and such +of it as bore upon Mrs. Fortress's statement confirmed its truth in +every particular. Before I came to the end of this record I heard +Gabriel Carew calling to me outside. I hastily concealed the book and +papers, and went to the door. + +"I would not come upon you unawares," he said, "but it has occurred to +me that to leave you even partially in the dark would not be +ingenuous, and might frustrate the end we both have in view. Before I +was married I wrote what may be regarded as a history of my life up to +that period. There are in it no reservations or concealments of any +kind whatever. Not alone my outer but my inner life is laid bare +therein; it is an absolutely faithful and truthful record. Since I +wrote the last words of this personal history I have not glanced at +it. I hand it now to you with one stipulation. So long as I am alive +you will not reveal what I have written. Should I die before you I +leave it to your discretion to deal with it as you please. Another +thing. I ought to more frankly explain why I put you in possession of +secrets which no man, unless under unusual and extraordinary +circumstances, would impart to another. I have been all my life +animated by a strong spirit of justice to others as well as to myself. +By this inclusion of myself I mean that I should be as ready to +condemn myself and to mete out to myself a penalty I may consciously +or unconsciously have incurred as I would to any ordinary person. I am +also animated by a sincere and devoted love for my wife and child. +Were I asked to express the dearest wish of my heart I should answer, +the wish for their happiness. But even this must not be purchased at +the expense of a possible wrong to another human being. There exists +between your son and my daughter an affection which has been allowed +to ripen into love. Whether we have been wise time will prove. You +have, equally with myself, the welfare of your child at heart. You +have doubts; let them be fully resolved. I need say no more than that +I am convinced that these feeble words of mine--which to strangers +would be inexplicable--will help us to understand each other." + +He left me alone once more, not waiting for me to speak, and I felt +for him as deep a sentiment of pity and admiration as had ever been +excited within me. He had also magnetised me into sharing his belief +that momentous circumstances were about to occur in his life which +would affect mine and my son's. It could not be otherwise in the light +of the love which Reginald bore for Mildred. + +I did not resume the perusal of the record made by Carew's father; I +held my curiosity in check both as regards that and what was written +on the two sheets of foolscap paper. Commencing to read the personal +history which Gabriel Carew had composed, I became so fascinated by it +that I could not leave it. Mrs. Carew sent to ask me to join them at +dinner, but I begged to be excused, and wine and food were brought to +me in the study. I remained there undisturbed, engrossed in Gabriel +Carew's narrative, and it was late in the night when I reached the +end. Then with feelings which it is impossible for me to describe, I +turned to the record made by Carew's father, and finished it. No +opinions were therein expressed; there was no indulgence in theory or +speculation; it was a simple statement of fact. The conclusions +arrived at by Carew's father were set down on the sheets of foolscap, +which next claimed my attention. They ran as follows:-- + + + + + XX. + + +"It is my intention, as an act of justice, before I die, to make my +son Gabriel acquainted with the mystery of my married life. It is due +to him and to myself that he should not pass his life in ignorance of +the sad events and circumstances which shadowed his home. The journal +which I have written, and in which he will find a record of facts, +will put him in possession of the melancholy circumstances of his +parents' lives. Without additional words from me he would understand +the explanation I have given, but something more is necessary from me +to him. + +"When I married his mother I had no knowledge that there was in her +blood an inherited disease. Had I suspected it I should not have +married her. It would have been a transgression against the laws of +God and man. To bring into the world human beings who are not +responsible for their actions, and who are driven to crime by the +promptings of a demoniac force born within them and growing stronger +with their own growth to strong manhood, is to be the creator of a +race of monsters. It matters not how fair and beautiful the outside +may be; simply to think of the evil forces sleeping within, urging to +sin and crime and cruelty, is sufficient to make a just man shudder. +Madness assumes many phases, but not one more dreadful than the phase +in which it presented itself in my wife's nature. Her conscious, +waking life was a life of gentleness and kindness; her unconscious, +sleeping life, but for the restraints I placed upon her, would have +been a life of crime. The fault was not hers, but it fell to her lot +to bear the burden of her curse. I, at least, by rendering her +existence a misery to herself and those around her, kept her free from +crime. One she committed before my eyes were opened, but its +consequences were not fatal. To this hour she does not know that she +attempted the life of a human being, and it is possible, because of my +treatment of her, that she thinks of me as a monster of cruelty. It is +for me to bear this burden, in addition to others which have come to +me unaware. I do not bemoan, but my life might have been bright and +honoured had I not married my wife. The one consolation I have is that +I have endeavoured to perform my duty. My son Gabriel must perform +his, though his heart bleed in its performance. Should the worst +befall, all that I can do is to implore his forgiveness for having +been the cause of his living. There have been times when I have +debated with myself whether it would not be the more merciful course +to put him out of the world, but I have never had the courage to +execute the sentence which my sense of stern justice dictated. There +is, however, one chance in life for him, although I most solemnly +adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with that of an +innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck the +sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror which +blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; not one +must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most +solemnly upon him; if he violate it he will be an incredible +monster--as I should have been had I married his mother knowing what +taint was in her blood. For his guidance I may say that I have +consulted the most eminent authorities in Europe, and this is their +verdict. Let him pay careful heed to it, for in my judgment it is +incontrovertible. + +"Reference to my journal will show him that the first visible +manifestation of his mother's disease was exhibited about five months +before he was born. We were then inhabiting a house in Switzerland, +and on the night her fatal inheritance took active shape and form we +had been entertaining a party of friends--one of whom was a foul +villain--and my wife had been singing many times a Tyrolean air of +which she was passionately fond. I copy the music of the air here, +praying to God that my son may not be familiar with it." + +(Here followed a few bars of music, which I had no doubt formed the +air to which Mrs. Fortress had referred in her statement, and mention +of which will also be found in the record of his life made by Gabriel +Carew.) + +"After the almost tragic events of that night my wife was continually +singing this air; I have heard her hum it in her sleep. When my son +was born she suckled the child--an error I deeply deplore. The +physicians I consulted are of one opinion. If my son Gabriel inherits +in its worst form his mother's disease, the ghost of this air will +haunt him from time to time. It may not be so clear to his senses that +he could sing it aloud, but he would indubitably recognise it if he +heard it by accident. It is for a test that I copy the music; it is +for my son to apply it. Should the air be entirely unfamiliar to him, +should it fail to recall any sensations through which he has passed, +the inheritance transmitted to him by his mother--if it ever assume +practical shape--will exhibit itself in a milder and less ruthless +form. The physicians aver that at some time or other, if Gabriel live +long, some such manifestation will most surely take place, and that if +it occur in its worst phase, the key-note to the occurrence may be +found in the affections. + +"This is as much as I can at present find strength to set down. I +shall take an opportunity to confer with my son upon this gloomy +matter, but I have a reluctance to approach the subject personally +with him during the lifetime of his mother. It will need an almost +superhuman courage on my part to speak of such a matter to my own son, +but I must nerve my soul to the task. If he reproach me, if he curse +me, I must bear it humbly. Once more I implore his forgiveness." + + + + + XXI. + + +The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal +revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me +as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns. +Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's +daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable. + +The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the +chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I +been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I +heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one +creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study +door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the +caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The +moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door +Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were +open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so +intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers +were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements. +In his hand he held a dagger. + +His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed +to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He +paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he +crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his +unhappy inheritance. + +My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded +danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another +occurrence almost as startling. + +With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my +side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a +distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So +pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that +I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her. + +"You saw him?" she said. + +"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside." + +He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within, +had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of +his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every +corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was +intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search, +he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to +the front door of the house. + +"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew. + +I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so +in your place." + +"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a +man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!" + +"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the +sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door. +There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set +loose. What do you fear?" + +"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly +and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr. +Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited. +The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling +about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to +discover a means of entering it when we were asleep." + +"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the +information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius. + +To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he +is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a +fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out." + +"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?" + +"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he +is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is +no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go +down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my +sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!" + +She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may +be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of +exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak. + +"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to +serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all +to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see +before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his +sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain +at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?" + +She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened +the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no +moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he +took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left +the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been +unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from +the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone, +and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close +itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went +out into the open. + +I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special +precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on +his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense +excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was +impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to +learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I +contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me +that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not +stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision, +avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in +the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of +the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did +not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his +steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that +upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times +pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly +in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen +Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart, +and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his +bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of +this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking +moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with +the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind +the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had +consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take +its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was +demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home; +the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and +he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them, +animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his +enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had +taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent +maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice +had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a +terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a +horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him +nothing but compassion. + +For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his +foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were +present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however, +he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high, +was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing +his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed, +and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely +convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade +of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was +something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the +shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these +occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if +needed, and all would have been over. + +At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the +safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house. + +Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him, +but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a +dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to +precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in +the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest +space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and +closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned, +heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard +the chain put up. Then silence. + +What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into +the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought +exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for +daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the +thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read +loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which +Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden +emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at +the truth. + +"You are Emilius," I said. + +"I am Emilius," was his reply. + + + + + XXII. + + +Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. He +had been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense of +self-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness. +He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmerited +suffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but it +had not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other men +who have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habits +foreign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid upon +him, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke him +gentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purpose +from which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him to +Rosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and his +family, it was necessary that I should learn its nature. + +"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?" + +"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, from +gentleman to gentleman." + +His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if I +was mocking him. + +"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend in +human form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I lay +concealed, I supposed you were both in league against me." + +"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is truly +my wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right." + +"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has not +embittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me to +disbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weaker +course. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, from +which I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass at +the present, but I have still sufficient for two months' dry +bread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal with +you as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension of +human signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know me +and perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helping +hand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offers +itself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once if +your intentions are not honest." + +"I will stay and prove myself," I said. + +"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while that +monster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, has +re-entered his house?" + +"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it, +but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made no +movement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot." + +"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As I +have told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I am +without a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked a +conflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me. +My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, might +with little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that without +scruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here an +errand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settle +with him; but there is something of even greater weight to be +accomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word was +relied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you I +ask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concert +at such an hour?" + +"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not see +me; he was not aware of my presence." + +Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?" + +"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet it +would be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present let +the matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper your +judgment." + +"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The dead +cannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiend +ever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of your +connection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answer +yours freely." + +"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by ties +of affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotless +purity." + +"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love a +brother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation of +innocence and goodness." + +"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now your +pity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge." + +"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, that +brought me here. But you have not completed your explanation." + +"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Love +grew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----" + +"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!" + +He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavy +sobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. I +turned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumed +the conversation. + +"You seem to know the story of my life." + +"I am acquainted with it." + +"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?" + +"Yes." + +"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul and +condemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. I +call Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I be +cursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn from +me, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before you +an innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murderer +lives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother was +not the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac, +whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another man +was murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade suffered +the penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do not +question the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason these +atrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smite +the guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turned +blasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is, +I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like a +man. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which I +cannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping in +the dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, of +all men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale, +for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mystery +which the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extends +even to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster's +guilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter into +my feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of my +imprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. I +could not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Night +after night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to my +murdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayer +was answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as I +assume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brother +Kristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So was +it, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthday +anniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon my +soul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did not +speak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him in +the forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deep +anguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe. +In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to be +not less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and he +knelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towards +him stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, I +beheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shone +upon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fell +intent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother, +but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter a +sound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer, +noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracked beneath his feet; all +nature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed about +to be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours, +until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. He +raised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment he +paused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel, +devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric's +back, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, as +the knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brother +was dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through the +woods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dream +was at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithful +presentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerful +than human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of a +delusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might be +supposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself upon +the murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for another +purpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and to +stain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Having +heard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you have +promised?" + +"I will do my best, if my judgment approves." + +"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs. +Carew--_must!_ There is a matter between us which must be cleared up +before another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand is +not one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from my +lips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She will +understand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me. Will you do this?" + +"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire." + +"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his head +bespoke the gentleman. + +"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?" + +"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on my +guard. Good-night." + +"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it with +his, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself. + +I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers-- +unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my way +to the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room to +meet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered, + +"My husband is there." + +"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius, +forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secret +drawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass the +study on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I did +not dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he is +asleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?" + +"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied. + +"Thank you," she murmured. + +I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table, +with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was Gabriel +Carew, in a profound slumber. + +"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followed +me into the room, "until late in the day." + +"Leave us together," I said. + +She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and the +papers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrasted +with an expression of resolution and content. What this portended I +had yet to learn. + + + + + XXIII. + + +It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered the +promise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirred +from the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I made +a gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had found +in the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplished +without violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind that +he had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he had +formed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intention +of fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room. + +Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements, +and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone I +made her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and I +perceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for an +interview. When I repeated to her Emilius's words, "Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me," she clasped her hands across her eyes, and +remained so for a little while. + +"It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly she +could not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must see +him." + +"When?" I asked. + +"I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time to +reflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care." + +She pointed to the study in which her husband slept. + +"You understand that he is determined to see you before another day +and night have passed?" + +"Yes, I understand." + +"How is Mildred?" + +"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. +She suspects nothing." + +"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough." + +"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her +voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but +knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy +punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting +right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes." + +She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the +study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without +observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of +embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. +I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. +Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it +was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell +asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I +awoke. + +Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes. + +"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly +exhausted." + +"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at +lightness. "Have you been awake long?" + +"For some hours," he replied. + +I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed +the direction of mine, and he nodded gently. + +"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked. + +"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in +occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to +a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. +"Eat," he said; "you must be hungry." + +I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself +drank two glasses. + +"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb +of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which +created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a +devil? Have you finished?" + +"Yes." + +"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not +remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, +torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end." + +"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew +left the house during the time I have slept?" + +"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." +He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here +yesterday, you discovered these?" + +"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to +read." + +"You have read it?" + +"Every word." + +"Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had he +dealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have been +averted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vain +regrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you. +Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to you +last night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolute +frankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I am +animated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lighter +sentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has the +misfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and complete +love. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, and +yet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all." + +I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully, +mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--his +leaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him to +prevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movements +in his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strange +intelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements, +fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, my +discovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into the +study, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I had +found in the secret drawer. + +He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by a +word. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approached +Emilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured the +murder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denote +agitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius's +desire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason for +it? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerful +reason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England for +the special purpose of the interview. + +"I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew, +"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, should +scout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me to +doubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it." + +"How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If you +think of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touch +you." + +"From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "I +became a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether you +believe me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me as +a monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe; +and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone, +but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. My +father wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavoured +to perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was to +enlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to the +nature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have done +what it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not the +courage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of a +pure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease of +insanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in human +beings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task to +find doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside the +sufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own or +any man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as a +lake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am another +being. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to my +door? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the law +is satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward and +say, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, and +he will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You saw +me last night prowling round my house in search of whom? In search of +an enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured the +punishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved to +have committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. So +sensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that even +in my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, no +voice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded, +praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded with +loathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me? +Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroy +them while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It would +be a simple safeguard." + +As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silence +listening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; it +was calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there was +no deviation from this aspect of absolute composure. + +"What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' I +most solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with +that of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck +the sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror +which blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; +not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction +most solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incredible +monster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the written +pages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof how +deeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatal +confession. + +"Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in his +duty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand the +mystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not kill +me? God and man would have applauded the deed." + +Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what he +had to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was I +by this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silence +enabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself. + +"You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house. +Then she has not seen Emilius?" + +"No. She will see him to-morrow." + +"He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquaint +him with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew." + +"Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there will +be no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so many +years. His mission cannot be so urgent." + +"He declares it is." + +"He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, to +denounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is the +joy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from a +pestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is not +content, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You can +assure him of my honesty in this." + +"You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that his +errand was not one of revenge." + +"He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview with +her. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she would +not see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that I +have pronounced judgment upon myself." + +I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decision +there was no gainsaying. + + + + + XXIV. + + +I have omitted to mention that a letter was delivered to me from my +son Reginald. It was written in London, almost immediately upon his +arrival there. There were in it about twenty words in relation to the +business I had entrusted to him, for the purpose of securing his +absence; the remaining three and a half pages were filled with +rhapsodies upon Mildred. It was Mildred, Mildred, nothing and nobody +but Mildred. She was the light of his life, the hope, the joy of it; +nothing else but Mildred was worth living for. Not even I, his old +father, who never thought, who never would think, any sacrifice too +great to make for his son's happiness. I did not complain, and I do +not; it is the way of things, and we old ones must stand aside, and be +humbly grateful that we are allowed to witness the happiness which we +have done our utmost to bring about. Not that this was the case with +Reginald and myself. The duty devolving upon me was to prevent, not to +assist in, the accomplishment of his dearest hopes. How would the lad +take it? Would he look upon me as his enemy? Would he thrust me aside, +and rush wildly to a fate I shuddered even to contemplate? Would not +the example before him serve as a warning? I could not say. The more I +thought of the matter the more disturbed I became. Certainly, he could +not marry Mildred without Carew's consent, and that, I knew, would be +withheld. The true story of her husband's life could not be concealed +from the knowledge of Mrs. Carew; and knowing it, she would not allow +Mildred to wed. If necessary, Mildred herself must be told how +impossible it was that she should ever think of marriage, and she +would refuse my son. And Reginald's heart would be broken! Of that I +was convinced. It would be a blow from which he would never recover. + +These were my reflections as I went out into the grounds of +Rosemullion to seek Emilius. I had not long or far to seek. Near the +copse in which he was concealed the previous night he suddenly +presented himself. + +"I have been looking and waiting for you all day," he said. "Can you +realise the torture I am suffering?" + +I did not answer his question, but gave him an account of what I had +done, and then I conveyed Gabriel Carew's message to him. + +"To wait till to-morrow!" Emilius exclaimed. "He asks, he implores me +to wait till then?" + +"I have told you," I said. "It seems to me not unreasonable." + +"It seems to you--it seems to you!" he repeated, in petulant +excitement; and the next moment begged my pardon for speaking so to +me, who had proved myself his friend. "But you do not know this +fiend--you do not know of what he is capable! You believe what I have +told you of the eternal wrong he has inflicted upon me--a wrong for +which he can never hope to be forgiven in this world or the next. You +believe it, and yet you say he is justified in asking me to wait till +he has had time to carry out the secret design he has formed to +prevent me from obtaining justice! You believe it, and yet you justify +him! O God in Heaven! Is there, has there ever been, justice on earth? +And I am to wait, who have waited for twenty years, who have suffered +unjustly for twenty years! And I am to stand aside while he completes +his work and dashes the cup of happiness from my lips! No! Again and +again, no! This night is my limit. Before it passes I will see Mrs. +Carew, and she shall right me. You can tell this to the monster yonder +who has juggled you so successfully." + +I endeavoured to argue, to reason with him, but he would not listen to +me. So I left him, his last words being that nothing on earth should +move him from his resolve. + + + + + XXV. + + +The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me +with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the +little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with +her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest. + +Mrs. Carew was alone. + +"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not +disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to +come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?" + +"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you +to-night." + +"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience +till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for +it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it +should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been +praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our +courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr. +Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to +church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do +not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed +when you left him?" + +"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he +did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be +the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty +to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence." + +"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me +voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good. +He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never +arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way +discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night +and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor +Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done +that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it +not?" + +"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely +knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange +one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft +air blowing, and the night is fine." + +"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?" + +"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject. + +She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the +air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is +always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should +impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be +so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he +will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night +you will counsel, you will advise me?" + +"Command me entirely," I said. + +"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be +quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and +is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I +winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my +acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a +marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused +Mrs. Carew to call "Come in." + +A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress. + +"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked. + +"Yes, madam," replied the servant. + +"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys." + +When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she +wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied +her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and +peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his +features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some +fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone +through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before +realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips, +the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual +power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or +wavering. He was a man capable of a great career. + +"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind +was the most comprehensive he had ever met with." + +She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing +him. We trod gently out of the room. + +"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's +room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door. + +"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly. + +"No, mamma. I shall be, soon." + +"Don't remain up too long, my dear." + +"No, mamma." + +"Good night, Mildred." + +"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?" + +"Yes, child!" + +"I have just given Reginald your love." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"And I have told him not to remain away too long." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"Good night, dearest mamma." + +"Good night, my dearest." + +"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for +the hopes of that young girl!" + +In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her +husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys +given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power +to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his +thought." + + + + + XXVI. + + +I relate in my own words the strange story Mrs. Carew imparted to me. +Although she had erred, her confession was like a rift of sweet light +in the dark clouds which hung over Rosemullion. It brought more than +hope and comfort to my old heart--it brought joy. In a very few +moments you will understand the meaning of my words. + +Transport yourself back to the village of Nerac, a year after the +marriage of Lauretta and Gabriel Carew. Business of a particular +nature took Carew from Nerac for a space of three months; he was +absent that time, much against his will, for his wife was near her +confinement. This took place safely two weeks after his departure, and +he was duly informed of the event. All was well at home; Lauretta and +her baby girl were thriving. The days and the weeks passed until two +months went by. Carew, in his letters to his wife, expressed the +profoundest joy at this precious home blessing. Smarting as he was +during that period from the growing coldness of the villagers towards +him, and chafing at the injustice of the world, he placed an +extravagant value upon this baby girl, who would be, he said, a charm +against all evil. He longed for the time when he could hold this +blessing in his loving arms; now his happiness was complete; he asked +for no greater treasure. In the growth and development of the new +young life he would find solace and consolation. His wife was enjoined +to take the most tender care of their child. "You and she are one," +Carew wrote. "Each is incomplete without the other. I cannot think of +you now apart. Were I to lose one my life would be plunged into +darkness." Then befel an event which brought horror and grief to +Lauretta. It happened that her nurse had fallen sick, and was +compelled to go to her own home; there was no other female servant in +the establishment capable of undertaking a nurse's duties, and +Lauretta therefore took them cheerfully on herself. Two months, as I +have said, had passed after the birth of the baby girl. Carew was +expected home in a fortnight. + +In the dead of night, when all in the house were asleep, with the +exception of Lauretta, she, watching by the cradle of her baby, heard +a sound of moaning without. She listened intently; it was her own name +that she heard uttered in accents of deepest pain and suffering. It +was a wild night; heavy rain was falling, the wind was raging; and +through the sounds of the storm came the wailing of her name, with +half-choked sobs and entreaties for help and pity. + +It was but an hour before that Lauretta, awaking, had heard proceed +from her baby-girl lying in the cradle by her bedside, some light +sounds of difficult breathing which had alarmed her. She got up and +dressed, and tended her baby, who, after a while, seemed a little +easier; but with the natural anxiety of a young mother Lauretta +remained awake watching her child. + +The moans for help outside appeared to be especially addressed to her +and to her alone, and she seemed to recognise the voice. She crept +softly down, and unfastened the door. + +"Who is there?" she asked, during a lull in the storm. + +The answer came--"Patricia! Help me! Oh help me, and let no one know!" + +It was Emilius's wife. + +Lauretta assisted her indoors. The poor girl was in a pitiable plight. +Famished, ragged, penniless, with a baby in her arms. Both were +wringing wet. The pelting rain had soaked them through and through. + +Throbbing with sympathy and compassion Lauretta quickly undressed +Patricia's baby, and put it in her own warm bed. They had by this time +reached Lauretta's bedroom, in which her own child was lying. Lauretta +wished to call the servants, but Patricia sobbed that she would fly +the house if any eyes but Lauretta's rested on her. It appeared, +according to the poor girl's story, that her father was in pursuit of +her, and had vowed to kill her and her baby. + +"He will kill me--he will kill me!" moaned Patricia. "No one must know +I have been here but you--no one, no one!" + +And then she rocked herself hysterically and cried, "What will become +of my poor baby-girl--what will become of her? I heard that your +husband was not here, and it gave me courage to crawl to you. Not that +it matters much. It isn't for myself I care. My father may kill me--I +have not long to live--but my baby, my baby! Oh, save my darling, save +her for the sake of my innocent Emilius!" + +It was then that Lauretta noticed for the first time, signs in +Patricia's face which, interpreted by her fear and the poor girl's +words, seemed to be signs of approaching death. And still Patricia +insisted that she would not remain in the house; no force or +entreaties could make her. + +"What, then, can I do for you?" asked Lauretta; she had already given +Patricia food and money. + +"Take care of my child," replied Patricia. "Bring her up as your own. +Let her never know her father's disgrace, her mother's shame. It will +be an angel's deed! For pity's sake, do not deny me! You are rich, and +can afford the charity--and if, in your husband's life there has been +guilt, this act of charity will atone for it. See here--look on her +innocent face. Having the power, you have not the heart to deny me. +Ah, if your angel mother were alive, I should appeal to her, and +should not appeal in vain! She loved Emilius, and believed in his +innocence--yes, to the last she believed in it. I know it for a +certainty. You, too, loved my poor martyred husband, and he loved and +honoured you and yours with all the strength of his faithful heart. He +is innocent, innocent, I tell you! God forbid that I should accuse any +one of being guilty--I am too desperate and despairing, and my child's +life, the salvation of her soul, are at stake. When your sainted +mother died, did all goodness die out of the world? Ah, no--it is not +possible; you live again in her. In you she lives again, and all her +mercy and sweet kindness which caused us all, from the highest to the +lowest, to worship her, to look upon her as something holy. For her +sake, if not for my own, you cannot, cannot deny me this charity, you +who have it in your power to grant it!" + +All this, and more. To say that Lauretta's heart was touched is +inadequate; it overflowed; it yearned to assist the suffering mother, +so near to her through her young motherhood, through the old ties with +Emilius and Eric. A choking cry from her own baby-girl caused her to +rush to the cradle. Within the hour a fatal circumstance occurred. +Lauretta's baby drew her last breath. + +It has nearly all my days been my belief that everything in human life +is to be accounted for by human standards. I am shaken in this belief. +In this death of Lauretta's baby I seem to see the finger of fate. + +Vain to attempt to describe the agonising grief of the young mother. +So overpowering was it that she lost consciousness. She recovered her +senses when the storm had passed and the morning's light was shining +on her. When she awoke to reality, what did she see? + +Her husband had suddenly and unexpectedly returned home. She was in +bed, and he was sitting by her side. + +"Gabriel, Gabriel!" she cried, and, overcome by the terror of her +great loss, she would have lost consciousness again but for an +unaccountable joyousness in his manner, which mingled strangely with +the sympathy he must have felt for her suffering condition. + +"It was, doubtless, the storm," he said soothingly. "It raged so +fiercely for an hour and more, that I am told it exceeded in violence +anything of a like kind that has been experienced in these parts for +the last fifty years. No wonder it has had such an effect upon you. +Half the trees in our garden are uprooted. It hastened my steps home, +for I know how these convulsions of nature affect you. But as you see, +the danger has passed; the sun is shining brightly; but not more +brightly in the heavens than it is shining in my heart." + +She listened to him in amazement, and raising herself in bed she +looked around for Patricia. She saw no sign of the hapless woman. The +cradle in which her baby-girl had died was by the side of the bed. +Carew bent over it and said in a tone of ecstasy: + +"Mildred--Mildred! Our Mildred--our dear ewe lamb! How sweetly and +soundly she sleeps! Oh, my darling wife! What care I for the injustice +of the world now that this treasure is ours? My sweet--my sweet! You +recompense for all. Do you know, Lauretta, as travelling home I neared +the beloved spot which contained you and our treasure, my heart almost +stood still at the fear that I should not find you both well. And +now--how can I be sufficiently grateful? Of no account to me is all +that transpires outside the circle which contains you and my dear one +in the cradle here? I set great store upon our child, Lauretta. She is +to me a guarantee of all that is worth living for in the present and +the future. When I arrived home and found you prostrate I was at first +overwhelmed, but I soon discovered that you had fainted, and I judged +rightly, did I not, dear wife of my heart, that, not being strong, you +kept it from me while we were apart, in order not to distress me? But +now all is well--all shall be well. See, Lauretta, she opens her eyes, +our darling. The question is, can I raise her safely and place her by +your side? Yes, it is done, and I am the happiest father in the +world!" + +Was she dreaming? In the clothes in which her child died rested this +child of Patricia's, smiling, blooming, laughing and crowing as +Lauretta drew her to her breast. Carew's delight, his gratitude, his +worship of the babe he believed to be his own, the superstitious store +he set upon her young life, were so unbounded, that Lauretta did not +dare to undeceive him. She feared, if she told him the truth, that it +would unsettle his reason, and produce between her and him a gulf +which could never be bridged over. She accepted the strange +combination of circumstances, and held her tongue. Her own dear babe +was dead, but this new Mildred, whom she grew to love truly as if she +were her own, remained, and grew to what she is, a flower of beauty, +goodness, and sweetness. Nothing more did Lauretta hear of Patricia; +whether she died or lived was not known to her. It is but a +detail--but necessary to complete the story--to state here that +Patricia lived but a few months after the occurrence of this strange +event. More important is it to state that, in some unexplained way, +Emilius learns that his daughter lived, and that the Carews were +bringing her up as if she were a child of their own. His term of +imprisonment over, he had come now to claim her. + +It would be impossible for me to give expression to my feelings of +gratitude at this wonderful revelation. The despair into which I had +fallen at the contemplation of the wrecking of my dear son Reginald's +happiness vanished. A fair future lay still before him, and the most +cherished hopes of his heart would be realised. I was sure that +Emilius would not mar them. A nature so noble as his, so strong in +suffering, so heroic in the highest form of human endurance, could not +lend itself to the committal of a petty act of selfishness whereby the +child upon whose memory he had lived during his cruel and unjust +imprisonment would be rendered miserable and unhappy. To this martyred +man I was ready to bow my head, ready to give him my friendship, my +sympathy, my heart's best fruits of confidence and esteem. Thinking of +him, I was awed that a man could live through the anguish that had +been his portion, and still retain the inherent dignity and nobility +of a great and noble nature. + + + + + XXVII. + + +"Hark!" whispered Mrs. Carew, her story told, and before we had time +to debate upon the wisest course to pursue. "What sound is that?" + +It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In this sound there was +no attempt at concealment. The footsteps were those of one who desired +his presence to be known. I divined instantly who it was who, by some +means unknown to me, obtaining an entrance into the house, was now +approaching the room in which Mrs. Carew and I were sitting. I could +not, and did not blame him. In his place I should have acted as he was +acting. + +The silver clock chimed the hour of twelve. + +"You will see him," I said, rising to my feet and advancing to the +door. + +"See whom?" asked Mrs. Carew, with her hand at her heart. + +"Emilius. It is he and no other man who is coming here. He has a great +stake in this house. He is justified." + +"My husband?" she gasped. + +"Is safe, if you will only be guided by me. It is your duty to be +brave and strong. Never was courage more needed than at this moment. +And not only courage, but wisdom. Decide quickly. There is no time to +lose." + +"I will be guided by you," she said faintly. + +I threw open the door, and saw Emilius standing in the passage, +uncertain which direction to take. + +"Enter," I said in a low tone. "Mrs. Carew is here. For the sake of +others be gentle, and do not alarm the house." + +He entered, and Mrs. Carew and he stood face to face. + +The native dignity of the man instantly asserted itself. He removed +his ragged cap and stood bareheaded before her. But there was no +cringing in his attitude. It was perfectly respectful--something, +indeed, more than that; it was the attitude of a man who once was this +sweet lady's equal, and who, despite the judgment of the world, still +knew himself to be her equal, and worthy of the esteem she once +accorded to him. But as he gazed upon her, and she upon him, in +silence for a few moments--a silence which I did not dare to +break--his stern mood melted. He saw and recognised her, as he had +always seen and recognised her in the time that was gone, when he was +entitled to hold up his head among men--but never more so in truth and +honour than now--a gentle-mannered lady, in whose face shone the +reflex of a sweet and womanly nature. Remembrances of the past rushed +upon him and softened him. + +"Forgive me," he said humbly. + +And then--tears filled my eyes as I saw it, and knew the suffering she +was bravely enduring--she held out her hand to him. He bowed his head +over it, as for a moment he held it in his. + +"I could not wait any longer," he said, softly. "I have entered like a +thief into your house--but I have waited so long!" + +"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," she said. "Emilius, be +merciful to me and mine!" + +"I have no thought of revenge," he said, in a voice as soft as her +own. "I am a broken-down man, with one sole hope. But I could not +stand before you, the Lauretta I loved with the pure love of a +brother, if I did not know myself unstained by crime or any taint of +dishonour." + +"I believe you, Emilius," she said. + +"You believe me, Lauretta!" he exclaimed, advancing a step towards +her. + +"I believe you, Emilius," she repeated. + +Had he come with savage intent she could not more surely have disarmed +him. + +"It is more than I dared hope for," he said. "How often, Lauretta, in +the gloom of my prison, have I thought of you and your dear parents, +of the home of innocence and love in which I was ever a welcome guest, +of the once happy village in which I was honoured and respected. Some +crumbs of comfort fell to my lot, some gleam of light shone through +the darkness. Had it not been so, and had I not been animated by +another hope, I might have gone mad. Good Father Daniel visited me +regularly, at permitted intervals, until he died. He had the firmest +faith in my innocence, and he brought me messages which fell like +heavenly balm upon my wounded spirit. Your sainted mother believed in +my innocence, and she bade him tell me so, and that her love for me +was unchanged. And now, you! But your mother's soul shines in your +eyes. It could not have been otherwise." He paused a moment or two, +reflecting what to say. "On one of Father Daniel's visits he brought +me a letter, securely sealed. It was against the prison rules, but +that did not deter him from doing what he deemed to be right. I +hastily concealed it, noting first, however, with a beating heart, +that it was addressed to me in my wife's handwriting. I asked him if +he knew what it contained, and he answered 'No;' and then, with a +grave face, he bade me prepare for solemn news. I felt at once what +was coming. Can you divine my purpose, Lauretta, in telling you this?" + +"I think I can," she replied. "Go on." + +"It was while the good priest was on a mission of mercy that a +villager came to him and said that in a hut hard by a woman was dying, +and, hearing that he was in the neighbourhood, begged him to come to +her. Father Daniel went, and discovered that the woman was Patricia, +my wife. She was very near to death, and she had only strength to +entreat him to deliver to me, secretly, a letter she had written. He +promised to do so, and in a few minutes after he received it from her +she drew her last breath. Before she died he asked her after her +babe--for Patricia was quite alone--but she did not seem to understand +him. Subsequently, however, he learnt from the villager that Patricia +had said her baby was dead. This was the mournful news which Father +Daniel conveyed to me in prison. Despite his attempts at consolation, +I felt when he left me that I was truly alone in the world. Brother, +wife, child, all dead! I prayed to God to send death to me soon. +What had I to live for? But there was my wife's letter, and before +twenty-four hours had passed I found an opportunity to read it. +Lauretta, that letter informed me what had become of my child, and it +laid upon me an obligation of secrecy for so long a time as I was in +prison. Patricia solemnly adjured me not to breathe to a living soul +that our child lived in your care; but I was to be released from this +obligation when I was a free man. Then I was to act as it seemed to me +right to act. Is there any need, Lauretta, for me to enter more fully +into the particulars of Patricia's letter?" + +"There is no need, Emilius." + +"Except, perhaps, to say that when you were lying senseless before +her, and your tender blossom lay dead in its cradle, it was only then +that the idea entered Patricia's mind of changing the children's +clothes, and leaving her baby with you. It was done, and Patricia +stole away with your dead child at her breast, herself to die, as she +well knew, before many weeks had passed. I have something to tell you, +Lauretta"--and here Emilius's voice was charged with a new note of +tenderness. "When Father Daniel next visited me I begged him to +discover where the dead babe was buried, and to put a few flowers on +the grave. The good priest did more. He paid a village woman to attend +to it, and he left a small sum of money to be spent in beautifying the +grave of your child. Flowers have grown upon it and around it from +that day to this. I visited the grave before I set forth on my journey +here, and I knelt and prayed there. I prayed a blessing upon you, +Lauretta, and I prayed that I might live to see the hope fulfilled +which shone like a star upon me through the long years of my prison +life. Lauretta," he cried, stretching forth his trembling hands, "my +child--my child"-- + +"She lives," sobbed Mrs. Carew, "in goodness, health, and beauty--a +flower of sweetness!" + +He fell upon his knees before her, and kissed her dress, and it was +then I heard a sound without which, for a moment, transfixed me with +terror. They, overwhelmed by emotion, were deaf to this sound. It was +that of a man creeping stealthily from his chamber--and that man +Gabriel Carew. Quickly recovering myself, and feeling the necessity +for immediate and prompt action, I addressed Emilius and Mrs. Carew. + +"Attend to me," I said impressively. "All is well with you. You, +Emilius, have gained a daughter, and will embrace her at sunrise. You, +dear lady, have not lost a daughter, for Mildred will be to you as she +has ever been. I have proved myself your friend. Answer quickly--have +I not?" + +"Yes," they both replied. + +"Do not, therefore, ask me for the reasons for my present action. I +demand from you both a sacred promise--that you will not leave this +room till I call for you, till I give you permission. It shall be +given at the latest by sunrise. I must have this promise--I must!" + +My voice, my manner, Mrs. Carew's fears for her husband, and +confidence in me, compelled assent. + +"We give it," she said. + +"We give it," said Emilius. + +"I accept it, and bind you to it. What I do is for the good of +all--for your future, for Mildred's future--and to avert disaster. +Only I can do this. Whatever you hear, you will not open this door +without my permission, after I leave it. When I am gone, turn the key, +and admit no one unless I desire it. It is understood?" + +"Yes," they said, "it is understood." + +As I closed the door behind me I heard the key turned in the lock. + + + + + XXVIII. + + +The sound of soft footsteps proceeded, as I supposed, from Gabriel +Carew, but to my surprise he was not coming towards the room I had +just left, but was stealthily ascending the stairs which led to +Mildred's room. His eyes were open, and his movements were dictated by +intelligent caution, but he was asleep. In his left hand he carried +the naked dagger. + +I ran up the stairs softly and swiftly, heedless of danger to myself, +and walked by his side. He took no notice of me. Standing by the door +of Mildred's room he paused, and was about to put his hand to the +handle when I seized his wrist. + +"What are you about to do?" I whispered, my lips close to his ear. +"Speak low, the house must not be disturbed." + +To my horror, he replied, in a whisper as low and distinct as my own: +"'Our race must die with him; not one must live after him to +perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most solemnly upon him; if he +violate it he will be an incredible monster.'" + +They were the words written by his father which he had already quoted +to me earlier in the day. + +"Your daughter is not in that room," I said, not raising my voice, +grateful that we had as yet attracted no notice. "If you enter, your +purpose will be frustrated." + +"Who speaks to me?" he asked. + +"The spirit of murder," I said. "The Devil who is leading your soul to +perdition. Come with me. I will direct you aright." + +He shuddered, but he did not hesitate. With my hand still firmly +grasping his wrist, he allowed me to lead him from the room. We +descended the stairs, slowly, stealthily, until we reached the landing +upon which the study was situated. I led him into the room, and with +lightning motion locked the door and plucked out the key. Then, +uncertain how next to act, I took my hand from his wrist, and +retreated a few steps. He, also, was now uncertain of his movements. +He stood still a while, then tried the door, and finding it fast, took +some halting steps this way and that, and finally fell into the chair +in which he had been accustomed to write. + +As I gazed upon him I was sensible of a gradual change in his +appearance. A pallor crept into his face, a film seemed to come across +his eyes. Alarmed, I grasped his shoulder with rough strength, and +shook him violently. + +"Mr. Carew!" I called. + +He trembled in every limb, closed his eyes, and clasped them with his +hands--in one of which he still held the dagger. Presently he removed +his hands from his face, and looked confusedly at me. + +"Are you awake?" I asked. + +"Yes," he replied faintly. "Give me a glass of water." + +I gave him a full glass, and he drained it. I observed as he did so +that it was only by an effort he prevented it from slipping from his +hand. Then he spoke again. + +"How came I here?" he asked. "Skilful as you are in your profession, +you can do nothing for me. How came I here?" + +"I conducted you hither," I said, "from the door of Mildred's room. +You have a dagger in your hand." + +Until this moment he seemed to be unconscious that he held the weapon, +and now he started and allowed it to drop to the ground. + +"Give thanks to God," I said solemnly, "that I stepped forward in time +to save the life of an innocent child." + +"Great God!" he murmured. "It is fit that I should die!" + +The silver chimes of the clock proclaimed the hour of two. He smiled +piteously and gratefully, and said, "It is almost time." + +"There is a hidden meaning in your words," I said. "What have you +done?" + +"Doctor, you are wrong. There is no hidden meaning in my words. All is +clear and plain. What should I do to myself? What should be done to +such a man as I? You are not deceiving me. You found me, you say, at +the door of my daughter's room, with the dagger in my hand?" + +"It is true." + +"Then my purpose was murder. What further confirmation is needed of +the truth of my father's revelation? Be thankful, doctor, that your +son Reginald has escaped from my daughter, my miserable, unhappy +child. Ah, me! Whose fate is the heaviest, hers or mine, or the +innocent flower I married?" + +"I can give you some comfort," I said. "In one respect I can set your +heart at ease." + +"Impossible, impossible!" he cried. + +"Not so. I have that to relate which though at first it may cause you +pain, cannot fail, upon reflection, to make you grateful. If I were to +tell you that you have not transmitted to an innocent girl the fatal +inheritance which has weighed like a curse upon your life, how would +it be with you?" + +"It would be heaven--it would be light! Unconscious sinner as I am, it +might mean forgiveness!" + +"I have been closeted with your wife, from whose lips I have heard +what you should hear. You will listen to me?" + +"Will you be long?" he asked, with a strange smile. + +"I will be as brief as possible--and receive it from me, as I received +it from your wife, that every word I utter is true." + +I told him the story of Mildred, who until now he had believed to be +his daughter. Perceiving that he was ill, I shortened it as much as +possible. Once or twice I paused in my recital, and asked him if he +was in pain. + +"In pain!" he cried. "When you are bringing heaven to me! The +agitation you observe in me proceeds from joy. Do not linger. Finish +quickly, quickly!" + +At the chiming of the half-hour my story was done. There was a happy +light in Carew's eyes. White as his face had grown, peace had stolen +into it. + +"Oh, God, I thank Thee!" he murmured, raising his arms; and then he +suddenly fell forward on his face. + +"I raised his head, and assisted him into a recumbent position. + +"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried. + +"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. +"First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you +not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..." + +"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his +daughter that he came to England." + +"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my +angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... +It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked +of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these +years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the +subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go +quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no +pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!" + +I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay +back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his +face. But he was dead! + + * * * * * + +It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were +in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. +What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own +lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his +dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of +an awful crime. + + * * * * * + +A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it +was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife +had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done +in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from +poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last +resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to +look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion. + +Emilius stood bareheaded by my side. + +"God forgive him!" said Emilius. + + * * * * * + +The disclosure of Mildred's real parentage made no difference in the +relations between her and Mrs. Carew. It was mother and daughter with +them, as it had always been, and even some additional and subtle tie +of new tenderness was added to the feelings of love for each other +which will animate their hearts till the last hours of their lives. + +No one in the county, with the exception of ourselves, is acquainted +with the story of Emilius. A dignified, gentle-mannered gentleman, he +quickly won the esteem of all who came in contact with him. There +often reigns in his face a strange expression of sadness, and he +sometimes speaks to me of Eric; but there is joy in his life, and he +is grateful for it. + +The marriage of Mildred and Reginald was postponed for a decent time, +and then these young people were made happy, and sent upon their +honeymoon, accompanied by blessings and tears and heartfelt wishes for +good. + +As I prepare to end my task I see in my mind's eye the form of one +who, in every act of her life, in every gentle word that falls from +her lips, has sanctified for me the name of Woman. Not only in idea, +but in deed. "God bless Mrs. Carew!" is said by many out of her +hearing, and if to live a good pure life will earn God's blessing, she +has earned it, and it is hers. + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + Richard Clay And Sons + London And Bungay. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45882 *** diff --git a/45882-h/45882-h.htm b/45882-h/45882-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ecce23 --- /dev/null +++ b/45882-h/45882-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4464 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance Vol. III, by B. + L. Farjeon</title> + <meta name='DC.Title' content='A Secret Inheritance, Vol. III' /> + <meta name='DC.Creator' content='B. L. Farjeon' /> + <meta name='DC.Publisher' content='Ward and Downey' /> + <meta name='DC.Created' content='1887' /> + <style type="text/css"> + + + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr.chap {color:black; + width: 10%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w10 {width: 10%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w20 {width: 20%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w33 {width: 33%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 10%; color: black; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} +hr.full {width: 95%;} + +ul.index { list-style-type: none; } +li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; } +li.indx { margin-top: .5em; } +li.isub1 {text-indent: 1em;} +li.isub2 {text-indent: 2em;} +li.isub3 {text-indent: 3em;} + + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45882 ***</div> + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> + +<p style="margin-left:4em; text-indent:-4em">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +1. Page scan source:<br /> + http://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ<br/> + (Oxford University)<br/> +2. Table of contents added by transcriber.</p> +</div> + + + + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h2>A SECRET INHERITANCE</h2> +</div> + + + + +<div style="margin-top: 6em"> +<h3>A</h3> +<h1>SECRET INHERITANCE</h1> +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top: 6em; margin-bottom: 4em"> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>B. L. FARJEON,</h2> +<h4>AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA,"<br/> +"THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC.</h4> +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em"> +<h3><i>IN THREE VOLUMES</i><br/> +VOL. III</h3> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<h4>LONDON</h4> +<h3>WARD AND DOWNEY</h3> +<h4>12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.</h4> +<h5>1887</h5> +</div> + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h4>Richard Clay and Sons,<br/> +LONDON AND BUNGAY.</h4> +</div> + + + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:18em"> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h2><a href="#book2" name="bk02">BOOK II (<i>Continued</i>)</a></h2> + +<p class="center">CHAPTER</p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.7" name="ch2.7">VII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.8" name="ch2.8">VIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.9" name="ch2.9">IX.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.10" name="ch2.10">X.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.11" name="ch2.11">XI.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.12" name="ch2.12">XII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.13" name="ch2.13">XIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.14" name="ch2.14">XIV.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.15" name="ch2.15">XV.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.16" name="ch2.16">XVI.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.17" name="ch2.17">XVII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.18" name="ch2.18">XVIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.19" name="ch2.19">XIX.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.20" name="ch2.20">XX.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.21" name="ch2.21">XXI.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.22" name="ch2.22">XXII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.23" name="ch2.23">XXIII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.24" name="ch2.24">XXIV.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.25" name="ch2.25">XXV.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.26" name="ch2.26">XXVI.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.27" name="ch2.27">XXVII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.28" name="ch2.28">XXVIII.</a></p> + +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h2>A SECRET INHERITANCE.</h2> + +<hr class="w10" /> + +<h3><a name="book2" href="#bk02">BOOK THE SECOND (<i>Continued</i>).</a></h3> + +<hr class="w10" /> + +<p style="margin-left:4em; text-indent:-4em">IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW IS +REVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND, +TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO., +CALIFORNIA.</p> +</div> + + + + + +<p style="text-indent:0">VOL. III.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.7" href="#ch2.7">VII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his version +of what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use the +phrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to say +to which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be applied +with the greater force--took place in private, only the accused and +the magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, being +present. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis and +Gabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in the +prisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimental +views which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as the +love which it was well known had existed between the brothers since +their birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned, +the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, and +the general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom he +had chiefly lived.</p> + +<p>"My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man's +life and character are not only valueless but misleading when the +passions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate him +utterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angel +to a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himself +for the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, the +judgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is the +victim of delusions."</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!"</p> + +<p>"Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely.</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis did not reply.</p> + +<p>"No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence, +and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabric +is destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evident +disinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours he +passed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He is +concealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When I +accused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether his +meeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he was +unable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remark +to which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There are +matters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would be +difficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person to +understand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was his +reply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime I +did not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Have +these mysterious matters between you and your brother of which you +speak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for the +prisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but he +corrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon his +murder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' he +replied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?' +I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, if +you were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely be +justified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, of +course, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal chooses +to intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery, +but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of putting +justice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before our +interview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intended +to persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered a +little, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to one +person only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying that +I would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused to +mention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine, +this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him to +his meditations."</p> + +<p>"Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt."</p> + +<p>"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"You once entertained an esteem for him."</p> + +<p>"True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of each +other. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldom +remove, hides so much!"</p> + +<p>"So much that is evil?"</p> + +<p>"That is my meaning."</p> + +<p>"You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly.</p> + +<p>"Late events and a larger experience are driving me in that +direction," replied the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Have you any objection to granting me a private interview with +Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. You have but to name your own time."</p> + +<p>"May Mr. Carew see him also?"</p> + +<p>"If he wishes."</p> + +<p>In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due to +an absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was against +Emilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of the +accused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing what +he felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The one +person to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself."</p> + +<p>To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to Doctor +Louis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversion +which, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards each +other, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must have +been strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt it +his duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia.</p> + +<p>"But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, and +endeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappy +man. He was not successful.</p> + +<p>"There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly to +struggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more so +now. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise."</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refused +the hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," he +said, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge."</p> + +<p>"You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, the +evidence was so black against Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogs +our family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyed +Eric; it will destroy me."</p> + +<p>"Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme, +"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reason +for my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have been examined +informed me that there is a certain matter in connection with this +deplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am I +he--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?"</p> + +<p>"I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement to +the magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were, +indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right."</p> + +<p>"And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own free +will. He bears me no friendship."</p> + +<p>"He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though you +have not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I am +sure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power."</p> + +<p>"Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Then +why should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is not +of this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received with +sympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who are +acquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related to +any other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of a +maniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. For +this reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though I +am groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would not +confide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why you +should be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light of +your belief that Carew bears you no friendship."</p> + +<p>"I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should most +likely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptings +which a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one of +them. I perceive that you do not receive these apparent +inconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not, +through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with my +father, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to you +as a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, would +you not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wild +effort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it not +happened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities and +inconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake you +will be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son."</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius his +hand, who again refused it.</p> + +<p>"Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that I +fear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears be +confirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service. +Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, my +father's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder of +my brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, may +be briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, and +grew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric made +her acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should have +been frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patricia +instead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted his +doom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, there +are a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go frankly +to Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is a +question that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty in +answering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here, +and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared her +father; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, is +difficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her own +station in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman. +Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dread +that her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. I +did not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We were +married in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longer +possible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it was +discussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardon +when he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was for +an earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union with +me, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep, +unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' she +said; and I believed it would.</p> + +<p>"This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of my +brother Eric."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.8" href="#ch2.8">VIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he +recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours +which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her +father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to +wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a +horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken +for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and +Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my +watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when +Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and +upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the +jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with +fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had +had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was +overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that +we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep +without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe +she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made +preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished +her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with +which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it, +and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber.</p> + +<p>"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part +of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night +was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry +moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep. +I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing +was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for, +upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I +had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing +quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I +judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were +aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative.</p> + +<p>"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation?</p> + +<p>"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few +minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible +that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time, +but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's +sleep.</p> + +<p>"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual +existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated +with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a +strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown +to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to +<i>my</i> brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of +love, and who had inspired in <i>his</i> heart feelings akin to my own. The +tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and +the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging +both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another, +which was the chief cause of my violent awaking.</p> + +<p>"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon +which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking +through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious +moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the +ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its +details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind +him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in +its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and +warn him!'</p> + +<p>"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke.</p> + +<p>"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had +come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the +warning?</p> + +<p>"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay. +Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name. +She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing +her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper, +'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!'</p> + +<p>"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I +awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I +might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having +neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by +other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son.</p> + +<p>"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my +absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have +forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is +well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her +breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her.</p> + +<p>"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without +hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the +forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and +recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams. +And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me, +strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him.</p> + +<p>"'Eric!'</p> + +<p>"'Emilius!'</p> + +<p>"But there was no friendliness in his tone.</p> + +<p>"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried.</p> + +<p>"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied.</p> + +<p>"'In search of me?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must +speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.'</p> + +<p>"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh.</p> + +<p>"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and +tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes; +shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!'</p> + +<p>"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially +all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview. +Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I +succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious +wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me.</p> + +<p>"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should +have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother, +that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It +lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia. +It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.'</p> + +<p>"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I +succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were +guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe +that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his +side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he +had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well, +kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the +witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an +injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart +is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my +reason when I think of my wife and unborn child.</p> + +<p>"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And +then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable +impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him +to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and +that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place, +and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely +dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them. +'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been +fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have +loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.'</p> + +<p>"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest. +I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison."</p> + +<p>"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.9" href="#ch2.9">IX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Throughout this narration Doctor Louis was impressed by the suspicion +that something was hidden from him. He pressed Emilius upon the point, +and his suspicion was strengthened by the evasive replies he received.</p> + +<p>"Enough, for the present, of myself," said Emilius; "let me hear +something of the outside world--of the world that is dead to me."</p> + +<p>"What do you wish to know?" asked Doctor Louis sadly.</p> + +<p>"Of yourselves," replied Emilius. "Of your good wife, whom I used to +look upon as a second mother. She is well?"</p> + +<p>"She is well," said Doctor Louis, "but in deep unhappiness because of +these terrible events."</p> + +<p>"How does she regard me--as innocent or guilty?"</p> + +<p>"She has the firmest belief in your innocence. When I told her I was +about to visit you, she desired me to give you her love and sympathy."</p> + +<p>"It is like her. And Lauretta?"</p> + +<p>"I did not inform her that I was coming. She is in great distress. You +and Eric were as brothers to her."</p> + +<p>"And now," said Emilius, with a certain recklessness of manner which +puzzled Doctor Louis, "one is dead and the other disgraced. But she +will live through it. She has a happy future before her?"</p> + +<p>He put this somewhat in the form of a question, to which Doctor Louis +replied without hesitation: "We have the best of reasons for hoping +so. But our conversation, Emilius, appears to have taken a heartless +turn. Let us rather consider the chances of establishing your +innocence and setting you free."</p> + +<p>"No, let us continue to speak of your family. There may not be another +opportunity--who knows? My judges may take it into their heads to keep +me in solitary confinement, and to deprive me entirely of the solace +of friendly intercourse, until they have got rid of me altogether. The +chances of establishing my innocence are scarcely worth considering; +they are so slender. Slender! They are not even that. I see no +loophole, nor do you. What is wanted is fact--hard, solid fact, such +as an actual witness, or a frank confession from the murderer. +Everything tangible and intangible is against me. Eric and I were +rivals in a woman's love; we had a meeting, in which we reconciled our +differences, and in which the horror of brotherly hatred was scotched +clean dead. Who were present at this meeting? My dear brother, who is +gone and cannot testify; and I, whose interest it is to say whatever +my tongue can utter in my defence. To prove my innocence I can bring +forward--what? Shadows. I could forgive my judges for laughing at me +were I to set up such a defence. Easier to believe that I killed my +brother in a dream. Could that be proved, there would be some hope for +me, for it might be argued that I was not accountable. Let us dismiss +it. I have told you all I know positively; for the rest, I am strong +enough to keep it to myself, being aware of the manner in which it +would be received."</p> + +<p>"Surely you are not wearied of life!" said Doctor Louis, shocked at +this reckless mood.</p> + +<p>"That is not to the point. Wearied or not, it is not in my power to +choose. Were I free, were my fate in my own hands, it would be worth +my while to consider how to act in order that the crime might be fixed +upon the guilty one. And hearken, Doctor, I am not swayed by impulse; +there is something of inward direction which holds me up. I hear +voices, I see visions--not to be heard or seen or taken into account +in a court of justice; of value only in a prison. They assure me that, +though I may suffer and be disgraced, I shall not die until my +innocence is proved."</p> + +<p>"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile, I wait and take the strokes which fate deals out to me. A +crushed manhood, a ruined life, a blasted happiness! And there is a +happy future, you say, before Lauretta? You have every confidence in +Mr. Carew? Lauretta loves him?"</p> + +<p>"With her whole heart."</p> + +<p>"And you and your good wife approve--are content to intrust her +happiness into his keeping?"</p> + +<p>"We are content--we approve."</p> + +<p>"May all be as you hope! Say nothing to them of me. The best mercy +that can be accorded to me is the mercy of forgetfulness. I have a +favour to beg of you."</p> + +<p>"It is granted."</p> + +<p>"You will be kind to my wife; you will not desert her--you will, if +necessary, protect her from her father, who, I fear, will never +forgive her?"</p> + +<p>"I will do all that lies in my power to further your wishes--though I +still hope for a favourable turn in your affairs."</p> + +<p>"Your hope is vain," said Emilius. "I thank you for your promise."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.10" href="#ch2.10">X.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminent +lawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their case +was so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. They +pleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerable +point. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character of +the accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, to +acts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts were +not entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but a +chord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it. +A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he was +condemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away, +and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but it +was long before they forgot him.</p> + +<p>These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carew +and Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace to +submit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himself +more than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness to +Lauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered its +healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to +religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of +rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their +honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The +sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly +said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful +auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were +henceforth one.</p> + +<p>They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, +travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters +home betokened that they were perfectly happy.</p> + +<p>"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness +and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. +Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; +heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the +precious gift of a nature so pure?"</p> + +<p>Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had +given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was +ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the +village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had +gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little +missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of +infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first +which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was +the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's +grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta +had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan +during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes +were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not +immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more +her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few +minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of +his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those +faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might +prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. +Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting +apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the +other end of the room.</p> + +<p>"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>"Very, very happy."</p> + +<p>"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I would wish that she should never change."</p> + +<p>"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, unhappily."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when +they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to +bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good +life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in +which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that must +count!"</p> + +<p>"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just."</p> + +<p>"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, +after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three +months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things +than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe +anything?"</p> + +<p>"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone.</p> + +<p>"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than +when you saw her last?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as +if she had passed through a sickness."</p> + +<p>"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly to +her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled +with fears for her."</p> + +<p>"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are +brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them."</p> + +<p>"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes +fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that +has excited her."</p> + +<p>"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. +They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said +during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence of +my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear +mother will grow stronger."</p> + +<p>It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew +weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which +Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the +minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not +longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return.</p> + +<p>"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise +nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these +would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by +his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta +did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even +the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss +of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn +with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the +hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men +and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from +morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, +and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly +left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes +brightened when she was told of this.</p> + +<p>"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free +from temptation and sin!"</p> + +<p>These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel +Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the +terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once +innocent village with blood and crime.</p> + +<p>"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though +they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in +Emilius's innocence."</p> + +<p>"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. +Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'"</p> + +<p>It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the +village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally +applied to her.</p> + +<p>"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble +offerings at her door.</p> + +<p>In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, +was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving +messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wish +being father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all, +a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope +that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad +occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify +their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a +feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel +Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on +Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before +Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He +was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of +that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. +Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in +his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which +he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the +priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and +that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did +not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had +once been friends.</p> + +<p>So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family +the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death.</p> + +<p>"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew.</p> + +<p>There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her +request that they were alone.</p> + +<p>"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be +dealt by as I deal by her!"</p> + +<p>"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You +have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No +thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is +the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing +what was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I have +been much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emilius +to be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breath +I declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one I +loved as my son if I did not say this to you."</p> + +<p>"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?"</p> + +<p>"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe as +I believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her, +if you can. Promise me."</p> + +<p>"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she will +receive help from me."</p> + +<p>"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, +she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one +question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in +your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to +him at such a moment.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever +darken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, +teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as the +example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter +to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at +him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel."</p> + +<p>He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to +Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of +death.</p> + +<p>Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised +his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn +for resentment or coldness.</p> + +<p>"Pray with me," said the priest.</p> + +<p>Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's +direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned +to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of +the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly +and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly +around her.</p> + +<p>When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. The +shops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly, +and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit was +looking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning of +the funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantities +of simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from Doctor +Louis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds were +singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis to +Lauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she would +like to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how the +years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful +for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly +woman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes."</p> + +<p>And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!"</p> + +<p>The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowers +are growing.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.11" href="#ch2.11">XI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were +they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their +departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not +been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their +favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, +because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his +face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one +who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his +clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed +about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or +for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for +private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too +close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he +entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to +children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and +women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. +Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at +the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person +from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one +servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, +and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the +sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite +purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, +gazing at him. He approached and addressed her.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said.</p> + +<p>"This is it," the servant replied.</p> + +<p>"So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. +Is the master at home?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"He lives here, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, +and has not yet taken up his residence."</p> + +<p>"His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, they're married, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a +stranger."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is +he?"</p> + +<p>"It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, +resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"You will find him in the village."</p> + +<p>"That's a wide address."</p> + +<p>"He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where +that is."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and +said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?"</p> + +<p>"He left months ago."</p> + +<p>"Left, has he? Where for?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you."</p> + +<p>"Because you won't?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow."</p> + +<p>"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was +brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out +of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil +shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can +be no harm in my asking where <i>have</i> you come from--being, as you say, +a stranger in these parts?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a +different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to +anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for +your information."</p> + +<p>He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no +difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that +something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took +mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was +witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was +taken to its last resting-place. He did not know at the time whether +it was man or woman, and he took no pains to ascertain till the +religious ceremony was over. Then he addressed himself to a little +girl.</p> + +<p>"Who is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer +to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a +mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if +not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages +which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" +Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Dead," said the little girl mournfully.</p> + +<p>"And you are sorry?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody is sorry."</p> + +<p>"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what <i>he</i> said." Again, aloud: +"That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is her husband there--Gabriel Carew?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out.</p> + +<p>The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled +with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, +gazed at them, as though in the endeavour to fix their faces in his +memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. +None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special +sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away, he followed them at a +little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone +from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because +for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. +Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exactions is not to +be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which +he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the +afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him.</p> + +<p>"You are Father Daniel?"</p> + +<p>"I am." And the priest, with his earnest eyes upon the stranger, said, +"I do not know you."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the man, "I have never seen you before to-day. We are +strangers to each other. But I have heard much of you."</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From Emilius," said the man.</p> + +<p>"Emilius!" cried Father Daniel, and signs of agitation were visible on +his face. "Are you acquainted with him? Have you seen him lately?</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with him. I saw him three days ago."</p> + +<p>Father Daniel fell back with a sudden impulse of revulsion, and with +as sudden an impulse of contrition said humbly, "Forgive me--forgive +me!"</p> + +<p>"It is I who should ask that," said the man, with a curious and not +discreditable assumption of manliness, in the humbleness of which a +certain remorseful abasement was conspicuous. He bowed his head. +"Bless me, Father!"</p> + +<p>"Do you deserve it?"</p> + +<p>"I need it," said the man; and the good priest blessed him.</p> + +<p>"It is, up to now," said the man presently, raising his head, "as +Emilius told me. But he could not lie."</p> + +<p>"You are his friend?" said Father Daniel.</p> + +<p>"I am not worthy to be called so," said the man. "I am a sinner. He is +a martyr."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me your hand. Nay, I will have it. We +are brothers. No temptation has been mine. I have not sinned because +sin has not presented itself to me in alluring colours. I have never +known want. My parents were good, and set me a good example. They +taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?"</p> + +<p>"And I, Father?" said the man in softened accents. "I! Great God, what +am I?" It was as though a revelation had fallen upon him. It held him +fast for a few moments, and then he recovered his natural self. "I +have never been as yourself, Father. My lot was otherwise. I don't +complain. But it was not my fault that I was born of thieves--though, +mind you, Father, I loved my mother."</p> + +<p>"My son," said Father Daniel, bowing his head, "give <i>me</i> your +blessing."</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>"Give <i>me</i> your blessing!"</p> + +<p>Awed and compelled, the man raised his trembling hands above Father +Daniel's head. When the priest looked again at the man he saw that his +eyes were filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"You come from Emilius."</p> + +<p>"Yes, with messages which I promised to deliver. I have been in prison +for fifteen years. Emilius joined us; we hardened ones were at first +surprised, afterwards we were shocked. It was not long before we grew +to love him. Father, is there justice in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Father Daniel, with a false sternness in his voice. "That +it sometimes errs is human. Your messages! To whom?"</p> + +<p>"To one who is dead--a good woman." He lowered his head a moment. "I +will keep it here," touching his breast; "it will do me no harm. To +you."</p> + +<p>"Deliver it."</p> + +<p>"Emilius desired me to seek you out, and to tell you he is innocent."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>"That is the second. The third is but one word to a man you +know--Gabriel Carew."</p> + +<p>"He is here," said Father Daniel.</p> + +<p>With head bowed down to his breast, Gabriel Carew came from Doctor +Louis's house. His face was very pale. The loss which had fallen upon +him and Lauretta had deeply affected him. Never had he felt so humble, +so purified, so animated by sincere desire to live a worthy life.</p> + +<p>"This man has a message to deliver to you," said Father Daniel to him.</p> + +<p>Gabriel Carew looked at the man.</p> + +<p>"I come from Emilius," said the man, "and am just released from +prison. I promised him to deliver to you a message of a single word in +the presence of Father Daniel."</p> + +<p>In a cold voice and with a stern look Gabriel Carew said, "All is +prepared. What is your message?"</p> + +<p>"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking."</p> + +<p>"I understand."</p> + +<p>"Murderer!"</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.12" href="#ch2.12">XII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this +recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate +events, in order that the interest of the story should not be +weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached +will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state +at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's +mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the +village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, +named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have +only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship +whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return +to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there +were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to +settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly +distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the +inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against +him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his +company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for +which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his +flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged +those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing +their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. +Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis +died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the +break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest +contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few +weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his +feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in +his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to +demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by +her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant +persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, +and her new life commenced in a foreign land.</p> + +<p>Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in +England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, +as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that +five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of +Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations +were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The +grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken +of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to +set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always +excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the +master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a +fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not +only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the +gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely +more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was +some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel +Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in +association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I +can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, +we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before +you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you +to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is +removed.</p> + +<p>Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not +necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young +people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. +Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. +For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too +old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls +who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special +privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to +this lady's house.</p> + +<p>From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He +had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his +heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told +me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was +she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of +course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes.</p> + +<p>These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. +In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information +respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father.</p> + +<p>He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and +danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love +with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my +son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of +his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting +light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature.</p> + +<p>For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met +Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young +lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the +house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance +party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty +years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting +her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at +me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight.</p> + +<p>"It would be an excellent match," she said.</p> + +<p>"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?"</p> + +<p>She smiled, and replied, "Well, only in imagination."</p> + +<p>I gave a sigh of relief. I had no wish that Reginald should seriously +compromise himself with a young lady who was a total stranger to me. +She renewed my uneasiness, however, by saying,</p> + +<p>"Yes, only in imagination so far as an actual declaration is +concerned. But, my dear sir, the young people have settled it for +themselves, without consulting wiser and older heads than their own. +It is the way of young people."</p> + +<p>She spoke rather quizzically, as though playing with me for an idle +gratification, and I told her as much. She instantly became serious, +and assured me that had she not approved of the more than liking that +Reginald and Miss Carew had for each other, she would have taken steps +to keep them apart.</p> + +<p>"Then the mischief is done," I said.</p> + +<p>"If you deem it mischief," was her reply. "Yes, it is done. The pair +are passionately in love with each other. But I am mistaken in my +opinion of them if they are not to be trusted. They will do nothing in +secret; when the affair becomes so serious as to render an open +declaration inevitable, they will consult those nearest to them, to +whom they owe a duty. In that respect I will answer for Mildred. You +should be able to answer for Reginald. Now that your eyes are opened, +invite his confidence. Speak to him frankly and lovingly, and he will +conceal nothing from you. I repeat, it would be an excellent match. +She is in every way worthy of him, and he is worthy of her. She is a +lady; her mother is a lady, and the personification of sweetness, +though I fancy sometimes she has a sorrow. But what human being is +perfectly happy? And Mildred's father is a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Are you well acquainted with him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No, not well acquainted. There are few who can say that of him. He is +a man whose absolute friendship it would be hard to gain. All the more +precious, therefore, to him who wins the prize. It might be worth your +while to try, for Reginald's sake. Should his suit be accepted, an +intimacy between you and Mr. Carew is inevitable. You will find him a +man of rare acquirements. You have a leaning towards men and women who +think for themselves, and who have a vein of originality. Mr. Carew +being of this order, you will be naturally drawn to him. A not +inconsequential item in the programme is that he is wealthy, and that +Mildred is his only child. Mrs. Carew and Mildred have just entered +the room. I must go to them; follow me in a moment or two, and I will +introduce you."</p> + +<p>I obeyed her instructions, and in a short time was made known to them.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.13" href="#ch2.13">XIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I did not agree with Reginald's estimate of their beauty. He placed +Mildred first, and her mother second. My judgment reversed this order. +Mildred was truly a most beautiful girl, but Mrs. Carew's beauty was +of a quality which, the moment I set eyes on her, impressed me more +deeply than I had ever been in my life by the sight of a woman's face. +It is not only that it is physically perfect, but that there is in it +a spirituality which took my heart and my mind captive. It is as +though the soul of a pure woman is there reflected--of a woman who, if +she ruled the world, would banish from it suffering and injustice. She +is the incarnation of sweetness and gentleness; and yet I could not +avoid observing in her features the traces of a secret sorrow to which +the lady of the house had referred. This indication of a grief nobly +and patiently borne added to her beauty, and deepened the impression +it produced upon me. I am not exaggerating when I say that, standing +before her, I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. Were I a +painter, my ambition would be to fix upon canvas a faithful portrait +of one so pure and lovely. I should call my picture Peace.</p> + +<p>Her daughter differs from her in appearance. Her beauty is of another +type--milder, more full of expression and variety; she has opposite +moods which, as occasion serves, are brought into play in +contradiction of each other. This may render her more captivating to a +young man like Reginald, and were I as young as he I might also find a +greater attraction in the daughter than in the mother. A sweet and +beautiful girl, modest and graceful in all her movements, I was +satisfied that Reginald had chosen well, and at the same time I was +convinced that all the earnestness of his soul was engaged in the +enterprise.</p> + +<p>"I am happy," said Mrs. Carew to me, "to know Reginald's father."</p> + +<p>"No less happy am I," was my rejoinder, "in making the acquaintance of +a lady of whom I have heard so much."</p> + +<p>"Reginald has spoken of me?"</p> + +<p>"Of you and your daughter--continually, from the first evening on +which he had the happiness of meeting you. It was for the purpose of +obtaining an introduction to you that I came here to-night, an +uninvited guest."</p> + +<p>I felt that there must be no concealment in my intercourse with Mrs. +Carew. To be honest and outspoken was the surest way of winning her +friendship. Reginald and Mildred had wandered away, her hand upon his +arm. Mrs. Carew's eyes followed them, tenderly and wistfully.</p> + +<p>"We shall be very happy to see you at Rosemullion," she said; and I +promised to pay her an early visit.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said my hostess, when I left Mrs. Carew's side.</p> + +<p>"I cannot but approve," I answered. "I have never met a sweeter lady. +If the daughter's nature resembles her mother's, and Reginald is +fortunate enough to win her, he will be a happy man."</p> + +<p>My hostess smiled and nodded in satisfaction. An inveterate +match-maker, she was always delighted at the success of her +good-natured schemes.</p> + +<p>On the following day I visited Mrs. Carew, and made the acquaintance +of her husband, Gabriel Carew. I will not waste time by giving a +description of him. What you have already read will have prepared you +for his introduction <i>in propria persona</i>. Sufficient to say that I +was favourably impressed, and that I had not been in his company five +minutes before I discovered that the gentleman I was conversing with +was a man of extraordinary erudition and mental compass. I was +fortunate enough to win his favour; he showed me over his library--a +collection made by himself, and which could only have been gathered by +one of superior attainments. That my society was agreeable to her +husband was a manifest pleasure to Mrs. Carew, and once during his +temporary absence to obtain a book of which we had been conversing she +expressed a hope that we should be often together.</p> + +<p>"He is too much of a recluse," she said. "I have wished that he should +mix in society more than he does--indeed, he sees very little of +life--but he has a distaste for it."</p> + +<p>I replied that the distaste of a man like Gabriel Carew to share in +the frivolities of the age was to be easily understood. She answered +wisely, "Surely a little innocent frivolity is not to be condemned. +One may become too serious."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew is a student?" I said.</p> + +<p>"From his early youth," she replied, "he has been devoted to +book-lore. His young life was lived here in seclusion, and it was not +till after the death of his parents that he saw anything of the +world."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carew returned, and looked at us smilingly. He touched his wife's +hand lightly, but slight as was the action, there was affection in it.</p> + +<p>"I possess the gift of divination," he said. "You have been speaking +of me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>"And of my love of solitude," he continued. "But what is bred in the +bone--you understand. There are inherited virtues and inherited vices. +The question is, at what point does actual responsibility become a +burden for which we can be justly called to account, and until that +moment, to define its precise relation to committed acts? Is it your +opinion that crime can be justified?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said.</p> + +<p>"Under no circumstances?"</p> + +<p>"Under no circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Early teaching, early habits, transmitted vices of the blood--are +they not factors? A man is an entity--complete possessor of his own +body and soul, which may be pure or hideous according to +circumstances. But you make him arbitrarily accountable. Do not +misunderstand me--I am simply theorising. Nothing of the argument +applies to me except my love of solitude, which is harmless, and hurts +no man. I have had experiences of the world, and have been misjudged. +There was a time when I was angry, when I inwardly rebelled. I do so +no longer. I am content. My wife, my child, my home, my lonely habits, +make up the sum of a fairly happy life. Are you fond of tea?"</p> + +<p>The light question, addressed to me in the midst of serious words, +somewhat startled me. I answered, "Yes;" and upon a motion from her +husband Mrs. Carew left the room to prepare the tea. Gabriel Carew +explained.</p> + +<p>"It is not ordered in this room because of a whim of mine. My wife has +an apartment which is to me a sanctuary of rest, and there it is that +we often sit and read and converse as we drink our tea. She is anxious +about me, but there is really no cause for anxiety. She has an idea +that solitude is affecting my health; she is mistaken; I was never +stronger, never better." He broke off suddenly with the remark, "You +are a physician?"</p> + +<p>"It will be correct to say I was," I replied. "Many years ago I +relinquished practice."</p> + +<p>"So I have heard; and I have also learnt that you held a distinguished +position. I have in my library your book treating of diseases of the +mind, in which you avoid the common ground of demonstrable insanity. +You speak there, if I remember aright, of inherited mental disease."</p> + +<p>"I have devoted two chapters to the theme."</p> + +<p>"And clearly confute," he pursued, "the statement you made just now +that under no circumstances can crime be justified."</p> + +<p>"I made that statement," I said, a little confused by this just +challenge, "from a general standpoint."</p> + +<p>"I speak from an individual standpoint," he remarked. "Which of the +two is the more human? However, this is diverging somewhat. Can you +tell me why, as twilight approaches, a change in my mood works +mysteriously within me? I was gay--I become morose. I was cheerful--I +am sad."</p> + +<p>"Nerves," I said, "affected by external forces. That is the only +answer I can at present give, knowing so little of you."</p> + +<p>Twilight was upon us as we conversed, and I observed that his face was +growing dark. With a strong, healthy, and decided motion he shook off +the influence, and held out his hand to me.</p> + +<p>"Know more of me," he said. "I have been informed of the mutual liking +which has sprung up between my daughter Mildred and your son. We will +speak of this seriously at a future time. Meanwhile, let your son +visit us; my home is open to him and you. I have a horror of +secrecies. We will shape our course in the light. Shall we strive to +be friends?"</p> + +<p>Apart from my inclination to be upon friendly terms with him--in the +first instance born of my anxiety for Reginald's happiness--there was +in Gabriel Carew's manner an irresistible charm, and I now desired his +friendship for my own sake as well as for Reginald's. I met his +advances cordially, and we spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Carew and +Mildred in the room which Carew had likened to a sanctuary. Its +influence upon him was an influence for good. The gloom which had +gathered on his face with the approach of night faded away, and was +replaced by a cheerfulness which found vent in his speech. I was more +than ever surprised at the vast stores of knowledge which he had +acquired. There was not a subject started of which he was not master, +and upon which he was not able to throw a new light, and when we +parted it was with mutual expressions of esteem, and with a mutual +wish that the intimacy thus auspiciously commenced should be allowed +to ripen into a close and genuine friendship. What particularly struck +me was the almost worshipping love Carew entertained for his wife. We +were standing in the garden, when, with a tender, personal application +of a theme we had broached, Carew said:</p> + +<p>"You know the old legend of every human being being accompanied +through life by two angels, one good and one bad each striving to +obtain mastery over him. My good angel is a visible one, and it is +ever by my side."</p> + +<p>He placed his hand upon his wife's shoulder, and she raised her eyes +to his. They gazed upon each other like lovers, and at that moment +there was not upon either face a trace of gloom or sorrow.</p> + +<p>"True love exists between those two," I thought, as I wended my way +home. "The shadows that hover round them are but idle fancies. I +rejoice that a daughter of these noble people has won my son's heart."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.14" href="#ch2.14">XIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">A general survey of the few months that followed will suffice. There +are many small details which it would be pleasant to dwell upon, but +these may be safely left to the imagination. They consist for the most +part of the episodes which marked the progress of the love affair +between Mildred and Reginald--who, without any distinct declaration +from us, conducted themselves toward each other as an engaged couple. +We elder people tacitly held back from entering into an express +engagement, Mrs. Carew waiting, as it were, upon my movements and +those of her husband. I am in a position to explain the reasons of my +own backwardness in this important matter. Gabriel Carew's reasons +must, for the present, be left to explain themselves. I need scarcely +say that Reginald and Mildred were perfectly happy, being satisfied +that they possessed our sanction to their love. No fault was theirs in +this respect. If blame was due anywhere, we, their parents, were the +persons upon whom it justly fell.</p> + +<p>The hope of a binding friendship between myself and Mr. and Mrs. Carew +was more than fulfilled. Not only did we become firm friends, but the +closest confidential relations were established between us. So much so +that I became acquainted with the history of the inner and outer lives +of Gabriel Carew and his sweet wife. There was little to learn of Mrs. +Carew's life which I had not already imagined; it was a record of +innocence and sweetness. But what I learnt of Gabriel Carew afforded +me food for grave reflection. So intimate were our relations, so +perfect was the confidence he reposed in me, that he concealed nothing +from me. His frankness won my admiration and greatly disturbed me. The +recital of his youthful life, of his midnight wanderings, of his +solitary musings, and afterwards of the death of his parents, of his +entrance into Nerac, of his intimacy with the family of Doctor Louis, +and of the tragic events that occurred in the peaceful village, made +up the sum of the strangest record which had ever been imparted to me. +I confess to being much affected by the fate of Eric and Emilius, and +I asked Carew whether he had heard anything of Emilius of late years. +His reply was that he had heard nothing, and that the unhappy man was +probably dead.</p> + +<p>"You have no doubt that he was guilty?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest doubt," said Carew.</p> + +<p>I was not so sure; the story had excited within me a singular sympathy +for Emilius.</p> + +<p>Now, in what I am about to say with respect to Gabriel Carew, I had, +at that time, I admit, the slightest of grounds; and the powerful +effect a certain suspicion had upon me was all the more singular +because of the absence of reliable evidence. The study I had made for +many years of the different forms in which insanity presents itself +was very captivating to me, and in the course of my researches I +unearthed some weird particulars, of which, were I a writer of +fiction, I could make effective use. Gabriel Carew was an affectionate +husband and father, a faithful mate to his wife, a wise counsellor to +his daughter. He had not a vice which I could discover. He was neither +a spendthrift nor a libertine. He drank in moderation, and he never +gambled; indeed, he detested all games of chance. His views of men and +manners were singularly correct, and denoted a well-balanced brain. It +was only where his affections were concerned that he could be called +in any way extravagant; but this would be accounted rather a virtue +than a vice. His recreations were intellectual, and he sought pleasure +and happiness only in his home and in association with books and his +wife and child. What judgment would you, from a distance, pass upon +such a man? What but that of entire approval? But I was in daily +contact with him, and signs were visible to me which greatly disturbed +me. To speak plainly, I doubted Gabriel Carew's perfect sanity!</p> + +<p>This was a matter of most serious moment. If Carew were not sane, his +disease, so far as I could judge, was of a harmless form. The proof of +this lay in his affection for those of his blood, and--which, in +evidence is, in my opinion, quite as strong--in his tenderness to +animals and birds. But I have to a certainty established not only that +insanity is hereditary, but that what is harmless in the parent may +become destructive in the child. Mildred was Carew's daughter, and to +all appearance as free from any touch of insanity as the most +healthful of human beings. But the germ must be in her, to be +transmitted to her children--to Reginald's children if he married her.</p> + +<p>This consideration impelled me to secret action in the way of inquiry. +It would have been, useless to appeal to Reginald, and to set before +him the probable consequences of such an union. My counsel would have +fallen upon idle ears. My duty, however, was clear. It was for me to +protect him.</p> + +<p>Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me +by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much +which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the +motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was +of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, +anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt +to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to +exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with +hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before +the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear +up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those +early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing +upon his youth.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom +myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to +you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the +morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, +perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after +sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of +old age."</p> + +<p>I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, +with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these +discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not +mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not +appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person +who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave +a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of +years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any +correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and +he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that +time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, +supposing her to be still living.</p> + +<p>"In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an +address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing +some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said +presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection."</p> + +<p>Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may +reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you +in your inquiry."</p> + +<p>I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he +had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and +encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle +and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The +next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had +told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me +also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most +intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would +communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her +power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to +pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his +presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the +information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a +sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made +preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of +the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.15" href="#ch2.15">XV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years +of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour +about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most +strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished +her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would +have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her +that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed +to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no +surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. +Carew.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her.</p> + +<p>She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He is well," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she +said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and +never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what +might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then he has not carried out his intention?"</p> + +<p>There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right +and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made.</p> + +<p>"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed.</p> + +<p>She nodded assent.</p> + +<p>"As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is +married?"</p> + +<p>She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of +interest within her at this intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?"</p> + +<p>"No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year."</p> + +<p>"Is his wife living?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her +portrait?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied.</p> + +<p>I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I +thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. +I handed her the picture.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me.</p> + +<p>"Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, +beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her."</p> + +<p>"Is she happy?"</p> + +<p>"Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of +love."</p> + +<p>"That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?"</p> + +<p>Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to +give, she took advantage of it.</p> + +<p>"Then he is not happy?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere +light curiosity that I have sought you."</p> + +<p>"It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. +You are not here at my bidding."</p> + +<p>"True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from +Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with +him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person +living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of +his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack +of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been +matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, +believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the +case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. +His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting +with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which +reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your +refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was +alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more +hurtful than the truth might have been."</p> + +<p>She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been."</p> + +<p>"But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have +contributed to avert evil consequences?"</p> + +<p>"To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?"</p> + +<p>"To others," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that +question. You have more to say."</p> + +<p>"There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. +Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to +your sense of justice would probably weigh with you."</p> + +<p>"It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any +profession?"</p> + +<p>"I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I +practised as a physician."</p> + +<p>"In a general way, or as a specialist?"</p> + +<p>"Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon +certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you +would like to read it."</p> + +<p>"It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should +have devoted myself to that branch of the profession."</p> + +<p>I gave her the book, which she placed aside. "It is not, however, +solely in that capacity," I said, "that I am here. That certain +indefinite impressions, springing from my professional experiences, +have prompted me, I do not deny; but my strongest reasons are private +ones. Is it your belief that insanity is hereditary and ineradicable?"</p> + +<p>"That is my firm belief," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is also mine. Mrs. Fortress, are you a married woman?"</p> + +<p>"I married a few months after I left Mr. Carew's service. Within two +years of my marriage I lost my husband."</p> + +<p>"Have you any children?"</p> + +<p>"One--a son."</p> + +<p>"Who must be now approaching manhood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"That is my case. My wife is dead, and I have an only child--a +son--who is deeply in love with Gabriel Carew's daughter."</p> + +<p>This introduction of Miss Carew threw Mrs. Fortress off her guard; +there was a startled flash in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear," she said, "that Mr. Carew has a daughter. Has he +other children?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mildred Carew is, like your son and mine, an only child. I +purposely brought three things with me, in the hope that they would +help me in my purpose. Two you have--my book and the portrait of +Gabriel Carew's wife. Here is the portrait of his daughter."</p> + +<p>She examined it with the greatest interest, and remarked that she saw +no resemblance in it to the father.</p> + +<p>"That has struck me," I observed; "neither does she resemble her +mother in any marked manner. But that sometimes happens, though it is +not the rule."</p> + +<p>"Is there an engagement between your son and Miss Carew?"</p> + +<p>"They are courting each other, with a view to marriage."</p> + +<p>"With your consent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it was given before I became intimate with Mr. Carew."</p> + +<p>"And since then you have repented?"</p> + +<p>"I have been greatly disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Rather," she said slowly, "than my son should marry a daughter of Mr. +Carew's, I would see him in his grave."</p> + +<p>This declaration profoundly agitated me, so far did it go to confirm +me in my suspicions. "I asked you a question a few moments since," I +said, "and you said you would wait a little before you answered it. +Will you answer it now?"</p> + +<p>"Your question was, 'Had a painful truth been revealed to Mr. Carew +when he was a single gentleman, whether it might have averted evil +consequences to others.'"</p> + +<p>"You have stated it correctly."</p> + +<p>"It might have done," she said. "But it appeared to me that Mr. Carew +was the last man in the world to attract a woman's heart. I often said +to myself, 'He will never marry.'"</p> + +<p>"You were mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I was; and I say again I am sorry." She took from her pocket the +letter I had given her from Mr. Carew, and read it carefully and +slowly, in a new light it seemed to me. Even when she had finished the +perusal she did not immediately speak, but sat in silent thought a +while.</p> + +<p>"I am not a tender-hearted woman," she said, "and not easy to move +when I pledge myself. Mr. Carew's father behaved well to me, and +fulfilled his promise of providing for me if it was in his power to do +so after the death of his wife. I, on my part, kept the two promises I +made him when I entered his service. The first was not to leave his +service during the lifetime of his wife; the second not to divulge, +without powerful cause, the secret of the unhappy inheritance he +feared his wife had transmitted to their son. When I bade farewell to +Mr. Gabriel Carew in Rosemullion, I saw no such cause for divulging +the secret, and I declined to satisfy my young master. It may be +different now, and I may be tempted to satisfy <i>you</i>. "</p> + +<p>"Out of your sense of justice?" I observed.</p> + +<p>"Not entirely. Mr. Carew's letter contains the offer of a reward."</p> + +<p>I met her instantly and with eagerness. "I am prepared to pay it."</p> + +<p>"It happens that I am in need of a sum of money. An opportunity is +open to my son which will be to his advantage, but I am not rich +enough to purchase it."</p> + +<p>"How much is needed?" I asked.</p> + +<p>She named a sum which was modest in comparison with the limit which +Gabriel Carew had given me, and I at once consented to pay it to her +for her information. I had money with me, and I counted out the amount +she required, and handed it to her. After ascertaining that it was +correct, she commenced.</p> + +<p>"When I accepted the situation Mr. Carew offered me, I did it with my +eyes open. I was at that time employed in a lunatic asylum, and was +dissatisfied with my rate of pay. Mr. Carew offered me higher terms. +His wife was a dangerous woman, and needed constant watching. Properly +speaking, she should have been placed in an asylum, but the thought of +so doing was hateful to her husband, who desired to keep his domestic +affliction from public knowledge. He would have regarded such a +disclosure as an indelible disgrace. There are similar secrets in many +families. At the time he married her, he had no suspicion that her +blood was tainted, and it was only three months before the birth of +Gabriel Carew that he made the discovery. I do not profess to be +thoroughly familiar with all the particulars; I am not a prying woman, +and was contented with what he told me. When he made the dreadful +discovery he and his wife were abroad, and the occasion of it, so far +as I could gather, ran in this fashion. Mr. Carew was occupying a +house in Switzerland--he was rich at the time--and was entertaining +guests. Among them was a false friend who was managing his affairs in +England, where Mr. Carew lived for the greater part of every year. +Ultimately this friend robbed him of his fortune, which Mr. Carew +never recovered, coming, however, into another later on, which enabled +him to purchase the estate of Rosemullion. One evening there was a +large party in Mr. Carew's house, in which his friend was stopping. +Mrs. Carew was passionately fond of music, and there was a Tyrolean +air for which she had an infatuation. She sang and played it again and +again, and became much excited. It is not out of place to say that she +was a very beautiful woman. The evening passed on, and the guests had +departed. All but one--her husband's false friend, who was stopping in +the house. Either his duties as a polite host or some other business +called her husband away, and Mrs. Carew and this friend were left +alone. He asked her to play and sing again, and she did so for him; +and then he made love to her. She repulsed him indignantly, but he was +not to be easily daunted, and a climax arrived when he grossly +insulted her. This roused her to fury, and she caught an ornamental +dagger---but a weapon capable of mischief--from the table, and would +have plunged it into his heart had he not caught her wrist and +disarmed her. He flung the dagger away, and then coolly told her that +her husband had implicit confidence in him, and that he would invent a +story that would ruin her. He told her, too, that he had her husband +in his power, that she and he were at his mercy, and that he could +beggar them at any moment. There occurred then a singular change in +her; her excitement left her, and she became as cool as he. Deceived +by this, he renewed his suit, but she held him back, and she said one +word to him: 'Wait!' To wait meant to hope, and he said he would be +content if she would play and sing to him again. She did so--the same +Tyrolean air she had sang so many times on this evening. Her husband +came in, and the scene ended. In describing it I am drawing from what +Mr. Carew told me afterwards in England. But the incident was not to +end there. Mr. Carew and his wife retired, and he, awakening in the +middle of the night, missed her from his side. He started up, and saw +that her clothes were gone. At the moment of the discovery he heard a +cry, and he ran from the room. He saw his wife approaching him; she +was fully dressed, and she held in her hand the ornamental dagger, +which was stained with blood. There was a smile on her lips, but +although he stood straight in front of her, with a candle in his hand, +she did not appear to see him. She passed by without a word or look of +recognition. He followed her to their bedroom, and there she laid the +dagger aside, undressed, and went to bed. She had been all the time +fast asleep. When she was abed he looked at the blood-stains on the +dagger; there was no wound upon her; from whom came the blood? From +whence the cry? The direction from which his wife had come was that of +the room occupied by his friend. He went there, and found his guest +just reviving from a state of insensibility caused by a stab in his +breast while he was asleep. Mr. Carew could form but one conclusion, +and his sole aim now was that the matter should be kept quiet. In this +he succeeded, having invented a story which his friend professed to +believe, and into which Mrs. Carew's name was not introduced. It +suited Mr. Carew's friend not to dispute the invented story; his wound +was not very serious, and he subsequently repaid the injury by +beggaring the man who had reposed entire confidence in him, and whose +wife he had attempted to lead to her ruin. Mr. Carew could not +immediately question his wife, for the next morning she was +dangerously ill. The ordinary doctors who were called in did not +appear to understand the case, and eventually Mr. Carew consulted a +foreign specialist of renown, who informed him that there was insanity +in his wife's blood, and that it would most likely assume a phase in +which there would be danger to those about her. This alarmed Mr. +Carew, not for his own sake, but for his wife's. There was a law in +that part of the country, which, put in force, would have removed Mrs. +Carew from his care, and he made haste for England, where he would +feel safe. Thus far in his wife's illness no dangerous symptoms were +visible, and he flattered himself into the belief that the foreign +doctor was wrong in the opinion he had given. The most marked +characteristic of the disease manifested itself in a harmless fashion, +being simply a sentimental passion for the Tyrolean air Mrs. Carew had +sung so many times on the night when the hidden seed of insanity began +to grow. Under these conditions Gabriel Carew was born. She insisted +upon nursing the child, which, had I been in their service at the +time, I should not have allowed. When Gabriel was two years of age, +the dangerous symptoms of which the foreign doctor had warned Mr. +Carew began to manifest themselves, and I was engaged as nurse. Mr. +Carew had lost his fortune then, but he was not entirely without +means, the largest portion of which was spent upon his wife. He paid +me liberally, his one desire in life being to keep the skeleton of his +home concealed, not only from the world, but from the knowledge of his +son. He thought that, growing up in ignorance of his mother's +condition, Gabriel might escape the contagion. I thought differently, +but we had no discussions on the subject. He had engaged me to perform +a certain duty, and I performed it--there it ended. I had nothing to +do with consequences. After Mr. Carew took possession of Rosemullion +his wife became worse; there were weeks together when no person but I +could approach her with safety. I had perfect control over her. She +was obedient, through fear, to my lightest word. It was certainly +merciful that the sad secret, having been so long concealed from +Gabriel, should remain so. If mischief were done, it was not now to be +averted. This is the explanation of Gabriel Carew's lonely boyhood +life, and it will possibly help to explain any strange peculiarities +you may have observed in him. I do not consider I have violated the +second promise I gave to his father--that I would not divulge without +powerful cause the secret of Gabriel Carew's unhappy inheritance. +There seems to me here to be cause sufficient for secrecy not to be +any longer observed. My tongue being now unsealed, I am ready to reply +to any questions you may ask."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.16" href="#ch2.16">XVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Mrs. Fortress's statement made everything clear to me, and also marked +out for me a clear path of duty. Knowing what I now knew, it would +have been an act of monstrous wickedness to allow Reginald to marry +Mildred. Never could I hope to be forgiven did I not prevent the +union. Better that my son should live a life of unhappiness through +all his days than enter into a contract which would doom the unborn to +madness--perhaps to crime. It was not only an offence against man, it +was an offence against God. The task before me was difficult, I knew; +but I must face it bravely and without flinching. Hearts would be +broken in the struggle--well, better that than the awful consequences +which would follow such a marriage. My own heart bled as I +contemplated what must occur during the next few weeks.</p> + +<p>Thus did I excitedly reason with myself in the first heat of the +revelation. When I became cooler I saw more clearly the difficulties +in my way. What evidence had I to produce? That of an old woman who +had given me certain information--which tallied with my own +suspicions--for a large sum of money. A cunning woman, to supply +me with what she saw I wished. Cunning from the first. Paid +liberally--nay, extravagantly--always, according to her own +confession. Her one single motive in the matter from first to +last--money. Was it likely, being in service so temptingly +remunerative, that she should not adopt every cunning means to retain +it? There was not only the immediate pay, but the prospect of a reward +which would make her comfortable for life. She had so manÅ“uvred +that she gained this reward. During the lifetime of Gabriel Carew's +mother Mrs. Fortress held supreme power over her. Her son was only +allowed to see her a few minutes at a time at intervals of weeks. Even +her husband, at the bidding of this clever woman, was denied +admittance to his wife's chamber. What difficulty was there, in those +days and weeks of seclusion, to so oppress, irritate, and torture the +poor patient as to compel her to put on the semblance of madness--to +drive her into it indeed? Such cases were not unknown. Even now, from +time to time, the public heart is stirred by a sudden revelation of +such atrocities.</p> + +<p>These were cogent arguments which I raised against myself. With myself +in my son's place I should confidently advance them, and should laugh +to scorn the weak opposition which would bar my way to happiness. I +sighed as I thought. The obstacles in my way were every moment growing +more formidable.</p> + +<p>These were not the only arguments against myself which occurred to me. +There was Mrs. Fortress's conduct when she left Rosemullion after the +death of her mistress. Gabriel Carew had made a pitiful appeal to her. +How had she met him? By assuming a mysterious air, indicating that she +had the key to a secret in which he was vitally interested, but that +she did not intend to give it to him. Why had she done this? Who could +doubt the answer to such a question? It was necessary to the <i>rôle</i> +she had adopted. Any other course would have led to an exposure of her +vile scheme. There was the legacy which Mr. Carew left her in his +will. Were the real truth known she might be deprived of it. +Therefore, the assumption of mystery in her last interview with +Gabriel Carew. A cunning woman indeed.</p> + +<p>Against evidence so flimsy there was a heavy weight of testimony. Was +not Gabriel Carew a loving husband and father? No person could dispute +it. He loved his wife and child, and they loved him. Was he ever known +to commit a cruel act! Never. Was not his purse ever open to the call +of charity? Innumerable instances that such was so could be adduced. +Could even light acts of rudeness and incivility be laid at his door? +What was the worst that could be said of him? That he was not fond of +society, that he was a recluse. Could not this be said of hundreds of +estimable men, and was it ever put forth as a distinct offence? If he +did not himself go into society, did he prevent his wife and child +from doing so? On the contrary. He encouraged them to seek amusement +which he, a grave man and a student, possibly deemed frivolous. Fond +of books, seeking his greatest pleasures in them, was not this +distinctly in his favour, and did it not prove him to be of a superior +nature to the common herd? The heaviest charge was that which, in +conversation with me, he had brought against himself--that on the +approach of night his spirits became gloomy. Slight grounds indeed for +so serious an accusation as insanity. Madmen were proverbially +cunning. Gabriel Carew was the soul of frankness, himself opening up +discussions which would tell against him were he not mentally and +physically sound and healthy. I began to despair.</p> + +<p>These reflections did not all pass through my mind in the silence +which followed the conclusion of Mrs. Fortress's statement. They are +the summing-up of my thoughts at that time and during my homeward +journey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fortress was waiting patiently for me to put +any questions which might occur to me.</p> + +<p>"Beyond yourself, Mrs. Fortress," I said, "and your master and +mistress, was there no person cognisant with Mrs. Carew's condition?"</p> + +<p>"None, sir, with the exception of the foreign doctor."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me his name?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know it, but a doctor of his learning would not have been a +young man when Mr. Carew consulted him, and it is hardly likely he +would be now living."</p> + +<p>"True," I said.</p> + +<p>"Besides," she added, "his experience of Mrs. Carew could have been +but slight. Almost immediately after he gave Mr. Carew his opinion of +my mistress, they left for England, as I have told you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I remarked, "and he may, after all, have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>She shrank a little, I fancied, but she said firmly, "He may have +been, I was not."</p> + +<p>"I am not doubting you, Mrs. Fortress," I said.</p> + +<p>She interposed here by saying, "It is immaterial whether you are or +not. The facts are as I have stated them."</p> + +<p>"I understand, of course, that you have spoken honestly, but is it not +possible you may have judged wrongly?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot admit it, sir," she replied with calm dignity. "It is not +possible."</p> + +<p>Certainly she maintained her ground. I continued my inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Before Mr. Carew came into his second fortune he lived humbly in +London?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in poor lodgings."</p> + +<p>"Did the house contain other lodgers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And did not any of them suspect or discover the mystery so close to +them?"</p> + +<p>"In my belief not another person in the house had any suspicion."</p> + +<p>"You lived for many years in Rosemullion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did not Mrs. Carew have a medical adviser?"</p> + +<p>"A doctor called and saw her from time to time."</p> + +<p>"Was he not aware of her condition?"</p> + +<p>"He was not. His visits were a mere matter of form, and he frequently +called at the house without seeing my mistress."</p> + +<p>"By whose directions was she denied to him?"</p> + +<p>"By mine. It was part of my duty to preserve my master's secret."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you did your duty, Mrs. Fortress."</p> + +<p>Her lip curled. She did not thank me.</p> + +<p>"Did this doctor ever see Mrs. Carew alone?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I took care always to be present, and I always prepared my +mistress for his visits, warning her to be careful."</p> + +<p>"Did she never rebel?"</p> + +<p>"With respect to the doctor, never. I had my difficult days with her, +but that was my business, and mine alone."</p> + +<p>"He must have been a careful and conscientious man," I said somewhat +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>She capped me by replying, "His accounts were regularly paid. Perhaps +that was sufficient for him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," I said, and I could not avoid a smile, though I was really +indignant. "Can you tell me anything more to guide me? Do you think it +was Mr. Carew's intention to keep his son in complete ignorance of +this misfortune, even after the death of your mistress?"</p> + +<p>"I am not positive. My master died during a visit to Wales, while my +mistress was still living. It is probable, had he survived his wife, +that he would have spoken to his son on the subject. I cannot say for +certain, but, from certain words he once used I believe he left some +record behind him."</p> + +<p>This suggestion aroused me.</p> + +<p>"Some written record?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where would he have deposited it?"</p> + +<p>"In Rosemullion my master had his private room, into which no one was +allowed to enter. There are large safes built in the walls of that +room. If the record I believe my master made is found anywhere, it +will be in that room. I have nothing more to say, sir. I have told you +all I know. Whether you believe me or not does not concern me. When +you see Mr. Gabriel, sir, give him my humble duty."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.17" href="#ch2.17">XVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I returned to Rosemullion in a very disturbed frame of mind. The +nearer I approached the abode of mystery the stronger grew my doubts +of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement. All she had related was in +such complete accordance with a cunningly carried out scheme, whereby +the innocent were made to suffer, and she--the plotter--made +comfortable for life, that I accused myself for my egregious folly in +giving her story credence, and listening to it patiently. It was, +however, impossible to allow the matter to stand as Mrs. Fortress had +left it. Some further inquiry must take place, and my doubts cleared +up before I would give my consent to the union of my son with Gabriel +Carew's daughter. I did not dare to run a risk so great until my mind +was fairly at ease. It was a relief to me when I reached my home that +Reginald was not there to greet me. I knew what the tenor of his +conversation would be, and I wished to avoid it. He had, indeed, but +one theme: Mildred; his heart and soul were meshed in his absorbing +love for the fair girl to whom there was a likelihood of a most +terrible inheritance having been transmitted.</p> + +<p>I proceeded without delay to Rosemullion, and the first person who +greeted me on the threshold was Mrs. Carew. She expressed her +satisfaction at my return, and upon my inquiring for her husband, said +that he was in his study, but that before I saw him she wished to have +a few private words with me. It was then that I noted signs of trouble +in her face. She led me to the apartment which Gabriel Carew had +described as a sanctuary of rest, and at her bidding I sat down and +awaited the communication she desired to make to me.</p> + +<p>She commenced by saying that her husband had such complete confidence +in me and she such faith in my wisdom, that, having a weight at her +heart which was sorely disturbing her, she had resolved to ask my +advice, as a friend upon whom she could rely. I replied that her faith +and her husband's confidence were not misplaced, and that it was my +earnest wish to assist her if it lay in my power.</p> + +<p>"It is not without my husband's permission," she said, "that I am +speaking to you now. He knows that I am uneasy about him, and he +himself suggested that I should consult you upon your return from +Cornwall."</p> + +<p>I was startled at learning that she was not ignorant of my visit to +Mrs. Fortress; I imagined that the affair was entirely between me and +Mr. Carew. I asked her if she was acquainted with the precise object +of my visit.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied; "only that you have been on a visit to a nurse who +was in the service of my husband's family before the death of his +parents. I did not seek for further information, and my husband did +not volunteer any. Neither is he acquainted with the details of the +matter I am about to open to you. I thought it best to keep it from +him until I obtained counsel from a near and dear friend."</p> + +<p>I inclined my head, and she continued:</p> + +<p>"My husband informs me that he has related to you the fullest +particulars of his life, and that he has unbosomed himself to you with +an unreserved confidence, such as no other person in the world has +been able to inspire."</p> + +<p>"It is true," I said, "and I hold his confidence sacred, to be used +only for our good."</p> + +<p>"And for the good of our children," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, conscious of a strange note in my voice as I repeated +the words, "and for the good of our children."</p> + +<p>She detected the unusual note, gazed steadily at me for a moment, and +proceeded, without commenting upon it.</p> + +<p>"Knowing so much, you are familiar with my husband's nightly +wanderings in the woods when he resided here with his parents?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He was aware of these nocturnal rambles?" she said. "He undertook +them consciously?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?"</p> + +<p>"Always," I replied, surprised at the question.</p> + +<p>"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with +respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept +anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to +save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had +concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. +Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their +impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. +'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless +life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As +Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange +note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend."</p> + +<p>"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had +any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when +he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times +and under certain circumstances. He did so last night."</p> + +<p>"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason +for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would +have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so +disturbed me that I can no longer be silent."</p> + +<p>My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. +Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, +of his mother's disease.</p> + +<p>"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for +some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were +these circumstances of a special nature?"</p> + +<p>"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which +he feared danger."</p> + +<p>"To himself?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. To me and Mildred. I recall three occasions, which will +supply you with an index to the whole. Once there were reports in the +papers of a number of burglaries being committed in the neighbourhood, +accompanied by deeds of violence. The burglars--there were three, as +was subsequently proved--were at liberty, and the efforts made to +discover and arrest them met with no success for several weeks. During +that period my husband rose regularly every night from bed, dressed +himself, and went out of the house, always returning, dressed as he +left the room. On one of these occasions I followed and watched him, +and discovered that his aim was to guard us from danger. He remained +in the grounds around the house, holding a pistol. His actions were +those of an earnest, watchful guardian, and were guided by the most +singular caution. Sometimes he would hide behind a tree, or crouch +down, concealed from view. When he was satisfied that there was no +longer any danger, he returned to the house, stepping very softly, and +examining the fastenings of the doors and windows."</p> + +<p>"Did he rise in the morning with the appearance of a man who had +passed a disturbed night?"</p> + +<p>"No; he was always cheerful, and appeared to be quite refreshed by +what he believed to be a good night's rest. At length, when the +burglars were arrested he left the house no more for many months, +until a workman whom he had employed, and whom he had reason to +discharge, uttered threats against us. Then he again commenced his +nightly watch, which did not cease until he received information that +the man had left the country. After that he enjoyed a long period of +repose. The third occasion was when there was a report of the escape +of a dangerous madman from a lunatic asylum three or four miles from +Rosemullion. Until this man was once more in safe custody, my husband +never missed a night's watch during his sleep. You will gather from +this explanation that he was always actuated by a good motive--to +guard and protect those whom he loves."</p> + +<p>"That seems clear," I said, "and what you have related is especially +interesting to me as a specialist, apart from my sincere friendship +for you and yours."</p> + +<p>"As a specialist!" she exclaimed. "Of what kind?"</p> + +<p>Fortunately I arrested myself in time. The words which immediately +suggested themselves to me in reply, remained unspoken. The truth +would have been too great a shock to this sweet lady.</p> + +<p>"As one deeply interested," I answered, with an assuring smile, "in +psychological mysteries. What occurred yesterday to excite Mr. Carew?"</p> + +<p>"He and I had been out riding. Upon our return one of our gardeners +informed my husband that a man had been seen lurking about the +grounds. The story told by the gardener is this: The stranger, a +foreigner, although he spoke good English, did not wait to be accosted +by the gardener, but himself opened a conversation. He asked if this +was Rosemullion. Yes. Did a family of the name of Carew live here? +Yes. Was Mrs. Carew alive? Yes. Was Mr. Carew alive? Yes. Did they +have any family? Yes, a daughter. What was her name? Miss Mildred. +Could he see Mrs. Carew? Mrs. Carew was out driving. When would I +return, and was there any possibility of the stranger seeing me alone? +The gardener could not say. It was not I, but my husband who put these +questions to the gardener. Then Mr. Carew asked sternly what was the +bribe that induced the gardener to answer the inquiries of a stranger, +and he forced the truth from him. The stranger had given the gardener +a foreign coin, which my husband insisted upon seeing. It was a piece +of French money. This part of the affair is completed by the admission +of the gardener that the stranger was apparently in poverty, as his +poor clothes betokened--and yet he had given the gardener money to +answer his questions! When the gardener was gone my husband said that +the circumstance was very suspicious, and I thought so myself; that +the stranger had some bad motive in thus intruding upon private +property, and that he would go in search of him. I asked to be allowed +to accompany him, and after a slight hesitation he consented, saying +if the stranger came with innocent intent and we met him, that he +could say what he had to say to me in my husband's presence. We +strolled all round the grounds of Rosemullion, but saw no stranger. +Then my husband said he would go into the woods, and that I had better +leave him; but I, fearing I knew not what, begged to be allowed to +remain with him. Together we went into the woods, and for a long while +met no person answering the description given by the gardener; but +after a while we saw a stranger a few yards in front of us. It +happened that I was a little ahead of my husband at that moment, and +the stranger, turning and seeing me, thought that I was alone. He was +about to hasten towards me when my husband stepped to my side. Without +hesitation the stranger abruptly turned from us, and, plunging into +the woods, was immediately lost to view."</p> + +<p>Something in Mrs. Carew's manner at this point--which I should find it +difficult to explain--some premonition that this man she called a +stranger was really not so to her--caused me to ask,</p> + +<p>"You saw his face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." And at this answer, tremblingly spoken, my premonition became a +certainty.</p> + +<p>"You recognised it?"</p> + +<p>"Unless I am much mistaken--and with all my heart I pray to heaven I +may be!--it was a face once familiar to me."</p> + +<p>It was not now for me to pursue the subject; it was for her to confide +freely in me, if such was her desire. There was a silence of a few +moments before she resumed:</p> + +<p>"My husband, having hidden nothing from you, has told you all that +occurred in my dear native village, Nerac, before we were married?"</p> + +<p>"He has told me all, I believe," I said.</p> + +<p>"Of my beloved parents--of friends once dear to me--Eric, murdered, +and the unhappy Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with all the particulars of that tragic event."</p> + +<p>"Sadly changed, worn, haggard, and travel-stained, in the man we met +in the forest I recognised Emilius."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.18" href="#ch2.18">XVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">This, indeed, was startling news. Emilius alive, his term of +imprisonment over, or he an escaped convict, seeking an interview with +Mrs. Carew, the wife of the man whom he regarded as his bitterest +enemy! To what was this to lead?--in what way was it to end?</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Carew recognise him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," replied Mrs. Carew. "Not a word passed between us +respecting him. <i>I</i> did not dare to speak. It would but have been to +reopen old wounds, and after all I may have been mistaken. Not for me +to bring back to my husband the memories of a past in which he was so +cruelly misjudged. Besides, this was the one and only subject upon +which my husband and I were not in harmony. He most firmly believed +and believes in Emilius's guilt; I as firmly believed and believe in +his innocence. The years that have flown have not softened my +husband's judgment nor hardened mine; and until this hour the name of +Emilius has never passed my lips since we settled in Rosemullion. No, +it was not for me to utter it in my husband s presence; it was not for +me to bring pain to his kind heart. I said nothing, nor did my +husband, nor did he attempt to follow the stranger. In silence we +walked back to the house, and the evening passed as usual. Reginald +came, and we had music and conversation. On the part of Mildred and +your son converse was cheerful and unconstrained, and I also strove to +be cheerful. I was so far successful as to deceive the children, but +my husband was not so easily blinded. And yet he made no allusion to +the subject which engrossed my thoughts, and weighed like a dark cloud +upon my heart. The hour grew late, and I sent Reginald home. Young +people in love have always to be reminded. Then my husband and I +retired to rest. Troubled as I was, sleep was long in coming to me, +but at length Nature was merciful, and I sank into slumber. I awoke at +the soft chiming of our silver clock, proclaiming the hour of two. +Never do I remember being awoke by the chiming of this clock, so low +and sweet is it; and that I should awake now as it struck two may have +been simply a coincidence. I sat up in bed. I was alone. My husband +was not in the room; his clothes were gone, and he had doubtless gone +out fully dressed. In great fear I rose and dressed, with the +intention of following him, but when I tried the door I found it had +been locked on the outside. Powerless to do anything but wait, I sat, +trembling, till daylight began to peep in at the windows. Then I heard +my husband's footsteps in the passage, which would not have reached my +ears had not my senses been preternaturally sharpened. He trod softly, +and turned the key in the door very gently in order not to disturb me. +He entered the room, and I almost fainted as I saw in his hand the +bright blade of an ancient dagger which usually lay upon his study +table. His face was turned towards me, his eyes were open, but he did +not see me. He took from his pocket a sheath, in which he placed the +dagger, and then he undressed. Before he lay down to that more +healthful sleep in which his mind would be at rest, he listened two or +three times at the locked door, and going to the window, drew the +blind a little aside and looked from the window. Then he stretched +himself in bed, and his eyes closed. Not by the least sign did he show +any consciousness of the fact that I was standing, dressed, in the +room, and that we were often face to face. I soon retired to bed, but +I slept no more. I lay awake, listening to my husband's breathing, +praying for the hour to arrive at which we generally rose for the +day--praying for that, praying that the night would not come again, +praying for a friend to counsel me. It were vain for me to disguise +from you that I am in dread of what may happen should my husband and +Emilius meet. And there is still something more----"</p> + +<p>I waited, but she left the sentence uncompleted. Startled as I was by +what I had heard, I was even more startled to see this good and gentle +woman suddenly cover her face with her hands, and burst into a passion +of tears. I turned from her in commiseration, powerless to relieve or +console her. Even had I words at command, it was better that her grief +should be allowed to spend itself naturally. When she had recovered, I +asked,</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Carew made any reference to what passed in the night?"</p> + +<p>"Not any," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Did you?"</p> + +<p>"I simply asked him if he had slept well, and he answered 'Yes,' and +that his sleep had been dreamless."</p> + +<p>"Will you pardon me for the question whether you believe that to be +really so--whether his answer to your solicitous inquiry was not +prompted by his desire not to trouble or distress you?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain," said Mrs. Carew, "that my husband said what he +believes to be true. Dear friend, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>She seized my hand, and clung to it as though to me, and to me alone, +could she look for help in her sad position.</p> + +<p>"Does Mildred know anything, suspect anything?" I asked.</p> + +<p>What was the meaning of the timid, frightened, helpless look in her +eyes at the mention of Mildred's name? No mental efforts of mine could +fathom it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she replied, and then seemed to drift, against her will as +it were, into distressful thought. I devoted a few moments to +consideration, and when I spoke again had resolved upon a course of +action.</p> + +<p>"Would you wish me to become your guest for a few days?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, if you would!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I shall be willing if Mr. Carew has no objection. I will see him +presently and ascertain. But first I have a little scheme to carry out +which I think advisable for all our sakes."</p> + +<p>I asked her if I could write a letter in her room, and despatch it at +once to my house, and she opened her desk for me. My letter was to my +son Reginald, and the effect of it was to secure his absence from +Rosemullion during my stay in Mr. Carew's house. There was really a +matter of business which Reginald could attend to, and which rendered +it necessary for him to take his immediate departure for London. When +my letter was written, I explained its purport to Mrs. Carew, and she +acquiesced in the wisdom of my plan. She herself added a few words to +the letter, to the effect that she regretted not being able to see him +before he left, and that Mildred was well and sent her love. She gave +me a flower, and asked me to enclose it in the envelope.</p> + +<p>"He will think it comes from Mildred," she said, "and it will send him +away happy. It is an innocent deceit."</p> + +<p>The letter was despatched, and with a few assuring words to the sweet +woman, I went to her husband's study.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.19" href="#ch2.19">XIX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I observed a change in him. Something of his inner life was reflected +in his face, the expression upon which was stern and moody. It +softened a little when he shook me by the hand. I asked him if he was +well, and he answered yes, but troubled by a strange presentiment of +evil. He remarked that he was on the eve of momentous circumstances in +his life which boded ill. I did not encourage him to indulge in this +vein, but proceeded to relate as much of my interview with Mrs. +Fortress as I deemed it wise and necessary to impart. He listened to +me patiently and reflectively, and when I had finished, said:</p> + +<p>"You have given me food for reflection. I have in you a confidence so +perfect that I place myself unreservedly in your hands. I will be +guided completely by your counsels; my confidence in myself is much +shaken. What do you advise?"</p> + +<p>"This is the study," I said, "which your father used to occupy?"</p> + +<p>"It is," he replied; "and no person was allowed to enter it without +his permission."</p> + +<p>"After his death you searched in it for his private papers?"</p> + +<p>"I did, and found very little to satisfy me. I hoped to discover +something which would throw light upon the strange habits of our life +and home. I was disappointed."</p> + +<p>At my request he showed me the method by which the safe was opened, +and the ingenuity of the device caused me to wonder that he had found +nothing of importance within its walls. I was, however, convinced that +there was in the study some clue to the mystery of Carew's boyhood's +home--although I could not help admitting to myself that it needed but +faith in Mrs. Fortress's statement to arrive at a correct solution. +But I required further evidence, and I resolved to search for it.</p> + +<p>"As you have placed yourself in my hands," I said, "you will not +object to comply with two or three slight requests."</p> + +<p>"There is little you can ask," was his response, "that I am not ready +to accede to."</p> + +<p>"Invite me to remain here as your guest for a few days."</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to occupy this room alone until I retire to bed."</p> + +<p>"Willingly."</p> + +<p>"And promise me that you will not leave the house without first +acquainting me of your intention."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>A little while afterwards he left me to myself, saying that if I +wished to see him I should find him with his wife. When he revealed to +me the secret method by which the safe was worked, he did not close +the panel; it remained open for my inspection, and I now made an +examination of the interior without finding so much as a scrap of +paper. This was as I expected; if Gabriel Carew's father left +documents behind him, they must be searched for elsewhere. A careful +study of the room led me to the conclusion that the massive +writing-table was the most likely depository. The working of the safe +was a process much too tedious for a man who wished for easy access to +his papers; the writing-table offered the means of this, and I turned +my attention to it. I do not wish to be prolix, and I therefore omit a +description of the painfully careful examination of every point in +this massive piece of furniture. Suffice it that, after at least an +hour's search, my endeavours were rewarded. In one of the legs of the +table on the inner side, quite undiscoverable without a light, I felt +a depression just large enough to receive the ball of my thumb. I +pressed hard, and although there was no immediate result, I fancied I +detected a slight yielding, such as might occur when pressing upon a +firm spring which had been disused for many years. I pressed harder, +with all my strength, and I suddenly heard a sharp click. I found that +this proceeded from the skirting of oak immediately above the leg I +was manipulating. I had carefully examined the skirting all round the +table without being able to discover any signs of a drawer. Now, +however, one had started forward, and I had no difficulty in pulling +it open. My heart beat more quickly as I drew from it a manuscript +book and a few loose sheets of foolscap paper. The writing was large +and plain; ink of such a quality had been used that the lapse of years +had had but a slight effect upon it. In less than a minute I satisfied +myself that the handwriting was that of Gabriel Carew's father.</p> + +<p>The book first. I read it attentively through. It was a record of the +circumstances of the married life of Gabriel Carew's parents, and such +of it as bore upon Mrs. Fortress's statement confirmed its truth in +every particular. Before I came to the end of this record I heard +Gabriel Carew calling to me outside. I hastily concealed the book and +papers, and went to the door.</p> + +<p>"I would not come upon you unawares," he said, "but it has occurred to +me that to leave you even partially in the dark would not be +ingenuous, and might frustrate the end we both have in view. Before I +was married I wrote what may be regarded as a history of my life up to +that period. There are in it no reservations or concealments of any +kind whatever. Not alone my outer but my inner life is laid bare +therein; it is an absolutely faithful and truthful record. Since I +wrote the last words of this personal history I have not glanced at +it. I hand it now to you with one stipulation. So long as I am alive +you will not reveal what I have written. Should I die before you I +leave it to your discretion to deal with it as you please. Another +thing. I ought to more frankly explain why I put you in possession of +secrets which no man, unless under unusual and extraordinary +circumstances, would impart to another. I have been all my life +animated by a strong spirit of justice to others as well as to myself. +By this inclusion of myself I mean that I should be as ready to +condemn myself and to mete out to myself a penalty I may consciously +or unconsciously have incurred as I would to any ordinary person. I am +also animated by a sincere and devoted love for my wife and child. +Were I asked to express the dearest wish of my heart I should answer, +the wish for their happiness. But even this must not be purchased at +the expense of a possible wrong to another human being. There exists +between your son and my daughter an affection which has been allowed +to ripen into love. Whether we have been wise time will prove. You +have, equally with myself, the welfare of your child at heart. You +have doubts; let them be fully resolved. I need say no more than that +I am convinced that these feeble words of mine--which to strangers +would be inexplicable--will help us to understand each other."</p> + +<p>He left me alone once more, not waiting for me to speak, and I felt +for him as deep a sentiment of pity and admiration as had ever been +excited within me. He had also magnetised me into sharing his belief +that momentous circumstances were about to occur in his life which +would affect mine and my son's. It could not be otherwise in the light +of the love which Reginald bore for Mildred.</p> + +<p>I did not resume the perusal of the record made by Carew's father; I +held my curiosity in check both as regards that and what was written +on the two sheets of foolscap paper. Commencing to read the personal +history which Gabriel Carew had composed, I became so fascinated by it +that I could not leave it. Mrs. Carew sent to ask me to join them at +dinner, but I begged to be excused, and wine and food were brought to +me in the study. I remained there undisturbed, engrossed in Gabriel +Carew's narrative, and it was late in the night when I reached the +end. Then with feelings which it is impossible for me to describe, I +turned to the record made by Carew's father, and finished it. No +opinions were therein expressed; there was no indulgence in theory or +speculation; it was a simple statement of fact. The conclusions +arrived at by Carew's father were set down on the sheets of foolscap, +which next claimed my attention. They ran as follows:--</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.20" href="#ch2.20">XX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"It is my intention, as an act of justice, before I die, to make my +son Gabriel acquainted with the mystery of my married life. It is due +to him and to myself that he should not pass his life in ignorance of +the sad events and circumstances which shadowed his home. The journal +which I have written, and in which he will find a record of facts, +will put him in possession of the melancholy circumstances of his +parents' lives. Without additional words from me he would understand +the explanation I have given, but something more is necessary from me +to him.</p> + +<p>"When I married his mother I had no knowledge that there was in her +blood an inherited disease. Had I suspected it I should not have +married her. It would have been a transgression against the laws of +God and man. To bring into the world human beings who are not +responsible for their actions, and who are driven to crime by the +promptings of a demoniac force born within them and growing stronger +with their own growth to strong manhood, is to be the creator of a +race of monsters. It matters not how fair and beautiful the outside +may be; simply to think of the evil forces sleeping within, urging to +sin and crime and cruelty, is sufficient to make a just man shudder. +Madness assumes many phases, but not one more dreadful than the phase +in which it presented itself in my wife's nature. Her conscious, +waking life was a life of gentleness and kindness; her unconscious, +sleeping life, but for the restraints I placed upon her, would have +been a life of crime. The fault was not hers, but it fell to her lot +to bear the burden of her curse. I, at least, by rendering her +existence a misery to herself and those around her, kept her free from +crime. One she committed before my eyes were opened, but its +consequences were not fatal. To this hour she does not know that she +attempted the life of a human being, and it is possible, because of my +treatment of her, that she thinks of me as a monster of cruelty. It is +for me to bear this burden, in addition to others which have come to +me unaware. I do not bemoan, but my life might have been bright and +honoured had I not married my wife. The one consolation I have is that +I have endeavoured to perform my duty. My son Gabriel must perform +his, though his heart bleed in its performance. Should the worst +befall, all that I can do is to implore his forgiveness for having +been the cause of his living. There have been times when I have +debated with myself whether it would not be the more merciful course +to put him out of the world, but I have never had the courage to +execute the sentence which my sense of stern justice dictated. There +is, however, one chance in life for him, although I most solemnly +adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with that of an +innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck the +sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror which +blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; not one +must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most +solemnly upon him; if he violate it he will be an incredible +monster--as I should have been had I married his mother knowing what +taint was in her blood. For his guidance I may say that I have +consulted the most eminent authorities in Europe, and this is their +verdict. Let him pay careful heed to it, for in my judgment it is +incontrovertible.</p> + +<p>"Reference to my journal will show him that the first visible +manifestation of his mother's disease was exhibited about five months +before he was born. We were then inhabiting a house in Switzerland, +and on the night her fatal inheritance took active shape and form we +had been entertaining a party of friends--one of whom was a foul +villain--and my wife had been singing many times a Tyrolean air of +which she was passionately fond. I copy the music of the air here, +praying to God that my son may not be familiar with it."</p> + +<p>(Here followed a few bars of music, which I had no doubt formed the +air to which Mrs. Fortress had referred in her statement, and mention +of which will also be found in the record of his life made by Gabriel +Carew.)</p> + +<p>"After the almost tragic events of that night my wife was continually +singing this air; I have heard her hum it in her sleep. When my son +was born she suckled the child--an error I deeply deplore. The +physicians I consulted are of one opinion. If my son Gabriel inherits +in its worst form his mother's disease, the ghost of this air will +haunt him from time to time. It may not be so clear to his senses that +he could sing it aloud, but he would indubitably recognise it if he +heard it by accident. It is for a test that I copy the music; it is +for my son to apply it. Should the air be entirely unfamiliar to him, +should it fail to recall any sensations through which he has passed, +the inheritance transmitted to him by his mother--if it ever assume +practical shape--will exhibit itself in a milder and less ruthless +form. The physicians aver that at some time or other, if Gabriel live +long, some such manifestation will most surely take place, and that if +it occur in its worst phase, the key-note to the occurrence may be +found in the affections.</p> + +<p>"This is as much as I can at present find strength to set down. I +shall take an opportunity to confer with my son upon this gloomy +matter, but I have a reluctance to approach the subject personally +with him during the lifetime of his mother. It will need an almost +superhuman courage on my part to speak of such a matter to my own son, +but I must nerve my soul to the task. If he reproach me, if he curse +me, I must bear it humbly. Once more I implore his forgiveness."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.21" href="#ch2.21">XXI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal +revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me +as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns. +Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's +daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable.</p> + +<p>The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the +chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I +been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I +heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one +creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study +door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the +caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The +moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door +Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were +open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so +intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers +were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements. +In his hand he held a dagger.</p> + +<p>His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed +to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He +paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he +crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his +unhappy inheritance.</p> + +<p>My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded +danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another +occurrence almost as startling.</p> + +<p>With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my +side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a +distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So +pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that +I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her.</p> + +<p>"You saw him?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside."</p> + +<p>He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within, +had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of +his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every +corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was +intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search, +he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to +the front door of the house.</p> + +<p>"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so +in your place."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a +man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!"</p> + +<p>"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the +sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door. +There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set +loose. What do you fear?"</p> + +<p>"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly +and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr. +Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited. +The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling +about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to +discover a means of entering it when we were asleep."</p> + +<p>"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the +information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius.</p> + +<p>To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he +is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a +fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out."</p> + +<p>"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he +is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is +no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go +down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my +sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!"</p> + +<p>She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may +be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of +exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak.</p> + +<p>"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to +serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all +to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see +before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his +sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain +at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened +the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no +moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he +took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left +the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been +unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from +the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone, +and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close +itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went +out into the open.</p> + +<p>I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special +precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on +his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense +excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was +impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to +learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I +contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me +that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not +stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision, +avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in +the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of +the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did +not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his +steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that +upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times +pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly +in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen +Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart, +and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his +bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of +this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking +moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with +the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind +the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had +consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take +its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was +demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home; +the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and +he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them, +animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his +enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had +taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent +maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice +had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a +terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a +horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him +nothing but compassion.</p> + +<p>For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his +foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were +present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however, +he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high, +was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing +his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed, +and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely +convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade +of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was +something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the +shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these +occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if +needed, and all would have been over.</p> + +<p>At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the +safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house.</p> + +<p>Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him, +but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a +dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to +precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in +the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest +space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and +closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned, +heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard +the chain put up. Then silence.</p> + +<p>What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into +the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought +exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for +daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the +thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read +loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which +Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden +emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at +the truth.</p> + +<p>"You are Emilius," I said.</p> + +<p>"I am Emilius," was his reply.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.22" href="#ch2.22">XXII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. He +had been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense of +self-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness. +He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmerited +suffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but it +had not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other men +who have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habits +foreign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid upon +him, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke him +gentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purpose +from which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him to +Rosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and his +family, it was necessary that I should learn its nature.</p> + +<p>"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?"</p> + +<p>"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, from +gentleman to gentleman."</p> + +<p>His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if I +was mocking him.</p> + +<p>"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend in +human form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I lay +concealed, I supposed you were both in league against me."</p> + +<p>"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is truly +my wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right."</p> + +<p>"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has not +embittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me to +disbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weaker +course. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, from +which I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass at +the present, but I have still sufficient for two months' dry +bread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal with +you as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension of +human signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know me +and perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helping +hand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offers +itself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once if +your intentions are not honest."</p> + +<p>"I will stay and prove myself," I said.</p> + +<p>"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while that +monster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, has +re-entered his house?"</p> + +<p>"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it, +but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made no +movement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot."</p> + +<p>"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As I +have told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I am +without a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked a +conflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me. +My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, might +with little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that without +scruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here an +errand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settle +with him; but there is something of even greater weight to be +accomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word was +relied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you I +ask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concert +at such an hour?"</p> + +<p>"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not see +me; he was not aware of my presence."</p> + +<p>Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?"</p> + +<p>"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet it +would be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present let +the matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper your +judgment."</p> + +<p>"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The dead +cannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiend +ever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of your +connection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answer +yours freely."</p> + +<p>"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by ties +of affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotless +purity."</p> + +<p>"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love a +brother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation of +innocence and goodness."</p> + +<p>"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now your +pity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge."</p> + +<p>"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, that +brought me here. But you have not completed your explanation."</p> + +<p>"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Love +grew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!"</p> + +<p>He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavy +sobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. I +turned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumed +the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You seem to know the story of my life."</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with it."</p> + +<p>"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul and +condemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. I +call Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I be +cursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn from +me, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before you +an innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murderer +lives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother was +not the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac, +whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another man +was murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade suffered +the penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do not +question the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason these +atrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smite +the guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turned +blasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is, +I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like a +man. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which I +cannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping in +the dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, of +all men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale, +for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mystery +which the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extends +even to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster's +guilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter into +my feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of my +imprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. I +could not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Night +after night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to my +murdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayer +was answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as I +assume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brother +Kristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So was +it, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthday +anniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon my +soul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did not +speak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him in +the forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deep +anguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe. +In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to be +not less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and he +knelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towards +him stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, I +beheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shone +upon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fell +intent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother, +but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter a +sound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer, +noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracked beneath his feet; all +nature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed about +to be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours, +until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. He +raised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment he +paused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel, +devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric's +back, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, as +the knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brother +was dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through the +woods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dream +was at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithful +presentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerful +than human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of a +delusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might be +supposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself upon +the murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for another +purpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and to +stain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Having +heard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you have +promised?"</p> + +<p>"I will do my best, if my judgment approves."</p> + +<p>"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs. +Carew--<i> must!</i> There is a matter between us which must be cleared up +before another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand is +not one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from my +lips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She will +understand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me. Will you do this?"</p> + +<p>"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his head +bespoke the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on my +guard. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it with +his, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself.</p> + +<p>I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers-- +unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my way +to the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room to +meet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered,</p> + +<p>"My husband is there."</p> + +<p>"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius, +forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secret +drawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass the +study on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I did +not dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he is +asleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table, +with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was Gabriel +Carew, in a profound slumber.</p> + +<p>"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followed +me into the room, "until late in the day."</p> + +<p>"Leave us together," I said.</p> + +<p>She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and the +papers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrasted +with an expression of resolution and content. What this portended I +had yet to learn.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.23" href="#ch2.23">XXIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered the +promise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirred +from the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I made +a gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had found +in the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplished +without violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind that +he had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he had +formed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intention +of fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements, +and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone I +made her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and I +perceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for an +interview. When I repeated to her Emilius's words, "Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me," she clasped her hands across her eyes, and +remained so for a little while.</p> + +<p>"It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly she +could not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must see +him."</p> + +<p>"When?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time to +reflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care."</p> + +<p>She pointed to the study in which her husband slept.</p> + +<p>"You understand that he is determined to see you before another day +and night have passed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand."</p> + +<p>"How is Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. +She suspects nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her +voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but +knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy +punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting +right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes."</p> + +<p>She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the +study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without +observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of +embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. +I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. +Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it +was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell +asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I +awoke.</p> + +<p>Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes.</p> + +<p>"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly +exhausted."</p> + +<p>"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at +lightness. "Have you been awake long?"</p> + +<p>"For some hours," he replied.</p> + +<p>I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed +the direction of mine, and he nodded gently.</p> + +<p>"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in +occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to +a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. +"Eat," he said; "you must be hungry."</p> + +<p>I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself +drank two glasses.</p> + +<p>"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb +of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which +created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a +devil? Have you finished?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not +remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, +torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end."</p> + +<p>"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew +left the house during the time I have slept?"</p> + +<p>"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." +He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here +yesterday, you discovered these?"</p> + +<p>"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to +read."</p> + +<p>"You have read it?"</p> + +<p>"Every word."</p> + +<p>"Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had he +dealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have been +averted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vain +regrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you. +Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to you +last night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolute +frankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I am +animated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lighter +sentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has the +misfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and complete +love. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, and +yet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all."</p> + +<p>I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully, +mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--his +leaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him to +prevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movements +in his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strange +intelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements, +fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, my +discovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into the +study, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I had +found in the secret drawer.</p> + +<p>He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by a +word. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approached +Emilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured the +murder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denote +agitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius's +desire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason for +it? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerful +reason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England for +the special purpose of the interview.</p> + +<p>"I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew, +"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, should +scout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me to +doubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it."</p> + +<p>"How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If you +think of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touch +you."</p> + +<p>"From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "I +became a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether you +believe me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me as +a monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe; +and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone, +but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. My +father wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavoured +to perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was to +enlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to the +nature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have done +what it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not the +courage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of a +pure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease of +insanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in human +beings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task to +find doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside the +sufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own or +any man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as a +lake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am another +being. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to my +door? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the law +is satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward and +say, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, and +he will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You saw +me last night prowling round my house in search of whom? In search of +an enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured the +punishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved to +have committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. So +sensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that even +in my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, no +voice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded, +praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded with +loathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me? +Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroy +them while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It would +be a simple safeguard."</p> + +<p>As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silence +listening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; it +was calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there was +no deviation from this aspect of absolute composure.</p> + +<p>"What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' I +most solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with +that of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck +the sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror +which blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; +not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction +most solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incredible +monster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the written +pages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof how +deeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatal +confession.</p> + +<p>"Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in his +duty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand the +mystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not kill +me? God and man would have applauded the deed."</p> + +<p>Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what he +had to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was I +by this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silence +enabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself.</p> + +<p>"You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house. +Then she has not seen Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"No. She will see him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquaint +him with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew."</p> + +<p>"Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there will +be no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so many +years. His mission cannot be so urgent."</p> + +<p>"He declares it is."</p> + +<p>"He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, to +denounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is the +joy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from a +pestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is not +content, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You can +assure him of my honesty in this."</p> + +<p>"You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that his +errand was not one of revenge."</p> + +<p>"He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview with +her. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she would +not see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that I +have pronounced judgment upon myself."</p> + +<p>I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decision +there was no gainsaying.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.24" href="#ch2.24">XXIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I have omitted to mention that a letter was delivered to me from my +son Reginald. It was written in London, almost immediately upon his +arrival there. There were in it about twenty words in relation to the +business I had entrusted to him, for the purpose of securing his +absence; the remaining three and a half pages were filled with +rhapsodies upon Mildred. It was Mildred, Mildred, nothing and nobody +but Mildred. She was the light of his life, the hope, the joy of it; +nothing else but Mildred was worth living for. Not even I, his old +father, who never thought, who never would think, any sacrifice too +great to make for his son's happiness. I did not complain, and I do +not; it is the way of things, and we old ones must stand aside, and be +humbly grateful that we are allowed to witness the happiness which we +have done our utmost to bring about. Not that this was the case with +Reginald and myself. The duty devolving upon me was to prevent, not to +assist in, the accomplishment of his dearest hopes. How would the lad +take it? Would he look upon me as his enemy? Would he thrust me aside, +and rush wildly to a fate I shuddered even to contemplate? Would not +the example before him serve as a warning? I could not say. The more I +thought of the matter the more disturbed I became. Certainly, he could +not marry Mildred without Carew's consent, and that, I knew, would be +withheld. The true story of her husband's life could not be concealed +from the knowledge of Mrs. Carew; and knowing it, she would not allow +Mildred to wed. If necessary, Mildred herself must be told how +impossible it was that she should ever think of marriage, and she +would refuse my son. And Reginald's heart would be broken! Of that I +was convinced. It would be a blow from which he would never recover.</p> + +<p>These were my reflections as I went out into the grounds of +Rosemullion to seek Emilius. I had not long or far to seek. Near the +copse in which he was concealed the previous night he suddenly +presented himself.</p> + +<p>"I have been looking and waiting for you all day," he said. "Can you +realise the torture I am suffering?"</p> + +<p>I did not answer his question, but gave him an account of what I had +done, and then I conveyed Gabriel Carew's message to him.</p> + +<p>"To wait till to-morrow!" Emilius exclaimed. "He asks, he implores me +to wait till then?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," I said. "It seems to me not unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"It seems to you--it seems to you!" he repeated, in petulant +excitement; and the next moment begged my pardon for speaking so to +me, who had proved myself his friend. "But you do not know this +fiend--you do not know of what he is capable! You believe what I have +told you of the eternal wrong he has inflicted upon me--a wrong for +which he can never hope to be forgiven in this world or the next. You +believe it, and yet you say he is justified in asking me to wait till +he has had time to carry out the secret design he has formed to +prevent me from obtaining justice! You believe it, and yet you justify +him! O God in Heaven! Is there, has there ever been, justice on earth? +And I am to wait, who have waited for twenty years, who have suffered +unjustly for twenty years! And I am to stand aside while he completes +his work and dashes the cup of happiness from my lips! No! Again and +again, no! This night is my limit. Before it passes I will see Mrs. +Carew, and she shall right me. You can tell this to the monster yonder +who has juggled you so successfully."</p> + +<p>I endeavoured to argue, to reason with him, but he would not listen to +me. So I left him, his last words being that nothing on earth should +move him from his resolve.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.25" href="#ch2.25">XXV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me +with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the +little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with +her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carew was alone.</p> + +<p>"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not +disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to +come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience +till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for +it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it +should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been +praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our +courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr. +Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to +church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do +not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed +when you left him?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he +did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be +the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty +to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence."</p> + +<p>"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me +voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good. +He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never +arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way +discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night +and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor +Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done +that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely +knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange +one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft +air blowing, and the night is fine."</p> + +<p>"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject.</p> + +<p>She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the +air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is +always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should +impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be +so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he +will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night +you will counsel, you will advise me?"</p> + +<p>"Command me entirely," I said.</p> + +<p>"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be +quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and +is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I +winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my +acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a +marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused +Mrs. Carew to call "Come in."</p> + +<p>A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress.</p> + +<p>"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam," replied the servant.</p> + +<p>"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys."</p> + +<p>When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she +wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied +her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and +peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his +features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some +fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone +through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before +realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips, +the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual +power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or +wavering. He was a man capable of a great career.</p> + +<p>"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind +was the most comprehensive he had ever met with."</p> + +<p>She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing +him. We trod gently out of the room.</p> + +<p>"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's +room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door.</p> + +<p>"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma. I shall be, soon."</p> + +<p>"Don't remain up too long, my dear."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mildred."</p> + +<p>"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child!"</p> + +<p>"I have just given Reginald your love."</p> + +<p>"That is right, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And I have told him not to remain away too long."</p> + +<p>"That is right, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Good night, dearest mamma."</p> + +<p>"Good night, my dearest."</p> + +<p>"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for +the hopes of that young girl!"</p> + +<p>In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her +husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys +given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power +to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his +thought."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.26" href="#ch2.26">XXVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I relate in my own words the strange story Mrs. Carew imparted to me. +Although she had erred, her confession was like a rift of sweet light +in the dark clouds which hung over Rosemullion. It brought more than +hope and comfort to my old heart--it brought joy. In a very few +moments you will understand the meaning of my words.</p> + +<p>Transport yourself back to the village of Nerac, a year after the +marriage of Lauretta and Gabriel Carew. Business of a particular +nature took Carew from Nerac for a space of three months; he was +absent that time, much against his will, for his wife was near her +confinement. This took place safely two weeks after his departure, and +he was duly informed of the event. All was well at home; Lauretta and +her baby girl were thriving. The days and the weeks passed until two +months went by. Carew, in his letters to his wife, expressed the +profoundest joy at this precious home blessing. Smarting as he was +during that period from the growing coldness of the villagers towards +him, and chafing at the injustice of the world, he placed an +extravagant value upon this baby girl, who would be, he said, a charm +against all evil. He longed for the time when he could hold this +blessing in his loving arms; now his happiness was complete; he asked +for no greater treasure. In the growth and development of the new +young life he would find solace and consolation. His wife was enjoined +to take the most tender care of their child. "You and she are one," +Carew wrote. "Each is incomplete without the other. I cannot think of +you now apart. Were I to lose one my life would be plunged into +darkness." Then befel an event which brought horror and grief to +Lauretta. It happened that her nurse had fallen sick, and was +compelled to go to her own home; there was no other female servant in +the establishment capable of undertaking a nurse's duties, and +Lauretta therefore took them cheerfully on herself. Two months, as I +have said, had passed after the birth of the baby girl. Carew was +expected home in a fortnight.</p> + +<p>In the dead of night, when all in the house were asleep, with the +exception of Lauretta, she, watching by the cradle of her baby, heard +a sound of moaning without. She listened intently; it was her own name +that she heard uttered in accents of deepest pain and suffering. It +was a wild night; heavy rain was falling, the wind was raging; and +through the sounds of the storm came the wailing of her name, with +half-choked sobs and entreaties for help and pity.</p> + +<p>It was but an hour before that Lauretta, awaking, had heard proceed +from her baby-girl lying in the cradle by her bedside, some light +sounds of difficult breathing which had alarmed her. She got up and +dressed, and tended her baby, who, after a while, seemed a little +easier; but with the natural anxiety of a young mother Lauretta +remained awake watching her child.</p> + +<p>The moans for help outside appeared to be especially addressed to her +and to her alone, and she seemed to recognise the voice. She crept +softly down, and unfastened the door.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" she asked, during a lull in the storm.</p> + +<p>The answer came--"Patricia! Help me! Oh help me, and let no one know!"</p> + +<p>It was Emilius's wife.</p> + +<p>Lauretta assisted her indoors. The poor girl was in a pitiable plight. +Famished, ragged, penniless, with a baby in her arms. Both were +wringing wet. The pelting rain had soaked them through and through.</p> + +<p>Throbbing with sympathy and compassion Lauretta quickly undressed +Patricia's baby, and put it in her own warm bed. They had by this time +reached Lauretta's bedroom, in which her own child was lying. Lauretta +wished to call the servants, but Patricia sobbed that she would fly +the house if any eyes but Lauretta's rested on her. It appeared, +according to the poor girl's story, that her father was in pursuit of +her, and had vowed to kill her and her baby.</p> + +<p>"He will kill me--he will kill me!" moaned Patricia. "No one must know +I have been here but you--no one, no one!"</p> + +<p>And then she rocked herself hysterically and cried, "What will become +of my poor baby-girl--what will become of her? I heard that your +husband was not here, and it gave me courage to crawl to you. Not that +it matters much. It isn't for myself I care. My father may kill me--I +have not long to live--but my baby, my baby! Oh, save my darling, save +her for the sake of my innocent Emilius!"</p> + +<p>It was then that Lauretta noticed for the first time, signs in +Patricia's face which, interpreted by her fear and the poor girl's +words, seemed to be signs of approaching death. And still Patricia +insisted that she would not remain in the house; no force or +entreaties could make her.</p> + +<p>"What, then, can I do for you?" asked Lauretta; she had already given +Patricia food and money.</p> + +<p>"Take care of my child," replied Patricia. "Bring her up as your own. +Let her never know her father's disgrace, her mother's shame. It will +be an angel's deed! For pity's sake, do not deny me! You are rich, and +can afford the charity--and if, in your husband's life there has been +guilt, this act of charity will atone for it. See here--look on her +innocent face. Having the power, you have not the heart to deny me. +Ah, if your angel mother were alive, I should appeal to her, and +should not appeal in vain! She loved Emilius, and believed in his +innocence--yes, to the last she believed in it. I know it for a +certainty. You, too, loved my poor martyred husband, and he loved and +honoured you and yours with all the strength of his faithful heart. He +is innocent, innocent, I tell you! God forbid that I should accuse any +one of being guilty--I am too desperate and despairing, and my child's +life, the salvation of her soul, are at stake. When your sainted +mother died, did all goodness die out of the world? Ah, no--it is not +possible; you live again in her. In you she lives again, and all her +mercy and sweet kindness which caused us all, from the highest to the +lowest, to worship her, to look upon her as something holy. For her +sake, if not for my own, you cannot, cannot deny me this charity, you +who have it in your power to grant it!"</p> + +<p>All this, and more. To say that Lauretta's heart was touched is +inadequate; it overflowed; it yearned to assist the suffering mother, +so near to her through her young motherhood, through the old ties with +Emilius and Eric. A choking cry from her own baby-girl caused her to +rush to the cradle. Within the hour a fatal circumstance occurred. +Lauretta's baby drew her last breath.</p> + +<p>It has nearly all my days been my belief that everything in human life +is to be accounted for by human standards. I am shaken in this belief. +In this death of Lauretta's baby I seem to see the finger of fate.</p> + +<p>Vain to attempt to describe the agonising grief of the young mother. +So overpowering was it that she lost consciousness. She recovered her +senses when the storm had passed and the morning's light was shining +on her. When she awoke to reality, what did she see?</p> + +<p>Her husband had suddenly and unexpectedly returned home. She was in +bed, and he was sitting by her side.</p> + +<p>"Gabriel, Gabriel!" she cried, and, overcome by the terror of her +great loss, she would have lost consciousness again but for an +unaccountable joyousness in his manner, which mingled strangely with +the sympathy he must have felt for her suffering condition.</p> + +<p>"It was, doubtless, the storm," he said soothingly. "It raged so +fiercely for an hour and more, that I am told it exceeded in violence +anything of a like kind that has been experienced in these parts for +the last fifty years. No wonder it has had such an effect upon you. +Half the trees in our garden are uprooted. It hastened my steps home, +for I know how these convulsions of nature affect you. But as you see, +the danger has passed; the sun is shining brightly; but not more +brightly in the heavens than it is shining in my heart."</p> + +<p>She listened to him in amazement, and raising herself in bed she +looked around for Patricia. She saw no sign of the hapless woman. The +cradle in which her baby-girl had died was by the side of the bed. +Carew bent over it and said in a tone of ecstasy:</p> + +<p>"Mildred--Mildred! Our Mildred--our dear ewe lamb! How sweetly and +soundly she sleeps! Oh, my darling wife! What care I for the injustice +of the world now that this treasure is ours? My sweet--my sweet! You +recompense for all. Do you know, Lauretta, as travelling home I neared +the beloved spot which contained you and our treasure, my heart almost +stood still at the fear that I should not find you both well. And +now--how can I be sufficiently grateful? Of no account to me is all +that transpires outside the circle which contains you and my dear one +in the cradle here? I set great store upon our child, Lauretta. She is +to me a guarantee of all that is worth living for in the present and +the future. When I arrived home and found you prostrate I was at first +overwhelmed, but I soon discovered that you had fainted, and I judged +rightly, did I not, dear wife of my heart, that, not being strong, you +kept it from me while we were apart, in order not to distress me? But +now all is well--all shall be well. See, Lauretta, she opens her eyes, +our darling. The question is, can I raise her safely and place her by +your side? Yes, it is done, and I am the happiest father in the +world!"</p> + +<p>Was she dreaming? In the clothes in which her child died rested this +child of Patricia's, smiling, blooming, laughing and crowing as +Lauretta drew her to her breast. Carew's delight, his gratitude, his +worship of the babe he believed to be his own, the superstitious store +he set upon her young life, were so unbounded, that Lauretta did not +dare to undeceive him. She feared, if she told him the truth, that it +would unsettle his reason, and produce between her and him a gulf +which could never be bridged over. She accepted the strange +combination of circumstances, and held her tongue. Her own dear babe +was dead, but this new Mildred, whom she grew to love truly as if she +were her own, remained, and grew to what she is, a flower of beauty, +goodness, and sweetness. Nothing more did Lauretta hear of Patricia; +whether she died or lived was not known to her. It is but a +detail--but necessary to complete the story--to state here that +Patricia lived but a few months after the occurrence of this strange +event. More important is it to state that, in some unexplained way, +Emilius learns that his daughter lived, and that the Carews were +bringing her up as if she were a child of their own. His term of +imprisonment over, he had come now to claim her.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible for me to give expression to my feelings of +gratitude at this wonderful revelation. The despair into which I had +fallen at the contemplation of the wrecking of my dear son Reginald's +happiness vanished. A fair future lay still before him, and the most +cherished hopes of his heart would be realised. I was sure that +Emilius would not mar them. A nature so noble as his, so strong in +suffering, so heroic in the highest form of human endurance, could not +lend itself to the committal of a petty act of selfishness whereby the +child upon whose memory he had lived during his cruel and unjust +imprisonment would be rendered miserable and unhappy. To this martyred +man I was ready to bow my head, ready to give him my friendship, my +sympathy, my heart's best fruits of confidence and esteem. Thinking of +him, I was awed that a man could live through the anguish that had +been his portion, and still retain the inherent dignity and nobility +of a great and noble nature.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.27" href="#ch2.27">XXVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"Hark!" whispered Mrs. Carew, her story told, and before we had time +to debate upon the wisest course to pursue. "What sound is that?"</p> + +<p>It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In this sound there was +no attempt at concealment. The footsteps were those of one who desired +his presence to be known. I divined instantly who it was who, by some +means unknown to me, obtaining an entrance into the house, was now +approaching the room in which Mrs. Carew and I were sitting. I could +not, and did not blame him. In his place I should have acted as he was +acting.</p> + +<p>The silver clock chimed the hour of twelve.</p> + +<p>"You will see him," I said, rising to my feet and advancing to the +door.</p> + +<p>"See whom?" asked Mrs. Carew, with her hand at her heart.</p> + +<p>"Emilius. It is he and no other man who is coming here. He has a great +stake in this house. He is justified."</p> + +<p>"My husband?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Is safe, if you will only be guided by me. It is your duty to be +brave and strong. Never was courage more needed than at this moment. +And not only courage, but wisdom. Decide quickly. There is no time to +lose."</p> + +<p>"I will be guided by you," she said faintly.</p> + +<p>I threw open the door, and saw Emilius standing in the passage, +uncertain which direction to take.</p> + +<p>"Enter," I said in a low tone. "Mrs. Carew is here. For the sake of +others be gentle, and do not alarm the house."</p> + +<p>He entered, and Mrs. Carew and he stood face to face.</p> + +<p>The native dignity of the man instantly asserted itself. He removed +his ragged cap and stood bareheaded before her. But there was no +cringing in his attitude. It was perfectly respectful--something, +indeed, more than that; it was the attitude of a man who once was this +sweet lady's equal, and who, despite the judgment of the world, still +knew himself to be her equal, and worthy of the esteem she once +accorded to him. But as he gazed upon her, and she upon him, in +silence for a few moments--a silence which I did not dare to +break--his stern mood melted. He saw and recognised her, as he had +always seen and recognised her in the time that was gone, when he was +entitled to hold up his head among men--but never more so in truth and +honour than now--a gentle-mannered lady, in whose face shone the +reflex of a sweet and womanly nature. Remembrances of the past rushed +upon him and softened him.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>And then--tears filled my eyes as I saw it, and knew the suffering she +was bravely enduring--she held out her hand to him. He bowed his head +over it, as for a moment he held it in his.</p> + +<p>"I could not wait any longer," he said, softly. "I have entered like a +thief into your house--but I have waited so long!"</p> + +<p>"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," she said. "Emilius, be +merciful to me and mine!"</p> + +<p>"I have no thought of revenge," he said, in a voice as soft as her +own. "I am a broken-down man, with one sole hope. But I could not +stand before you, the Lauretta I loved with the pure love of a +brother, if I did not know myself unstained by crime or any taint of +dishonour."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Emilius," she said.</p> + +<p>"You believe me, Lauretta!" he exclaimed, advancing a step towards +her.</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Emilius," she repeated.</p> + +<p>Had he come with savage intent she could not more surely have disarmed +him.</p> + +<p>"It is more than I dared hope for," he said. "How often, Lauretta, in +the gloom of my prison, have I thought of you and your dear parents, +of the home of innocence and love in which I was ever a welcome guest, +of the once happy village in which I was honoured and respected. Some +crumbs of comfort fell to my lot, some gleam of light shone through +the darkness. Had it not been so, and had I not been animated by +another hope, I might have gone mad. Good Father Daniel visited me +regularly, at permitted intervals, until he died. He had the firmest +faith in my innocence, and he brought me messages which fell like +heavenly balm upon my wounded spirit. Your sainted mother believed in +my innocence, and she bade him tell me so, and that her love for me +was unchanged. And now, you! But your mother's soul shines in your +eyes. It could not have been otherwise." He paused a moment or two, +reflecting what to say. "On one of Father Daniel's visits he brought +me a letter, securely sealed. It was against the prison rules, but +that did not deter him from doing what he deemed to be right. I +hastily concealed it, noting first, however, with a beating heart, +that it was addressed to me in my wife's handwriting. I asked him if +he knew what it contained, and he answered 'No;' and then, with a +grave face, he bade me prepare for solemn news. I felt at once what +was coming. Can you divine my purpose, Lauretta, in telling you this?"</p> + +<p>"I think I can," she replied. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"It was while the good priest was on a mission of mercy that a +villager came to him and said that in a hut hard by a woman was dying, +and, hearing that he was in the neighbourhood, begged him to come to +her. Father Daniel went, and discovered that the woman was Patricia, +my wife. She was very near to death, and she had only strength to +entreat him to deliver to me, secretly, a letter she had written. He +promised to do so, and in a few minutes after he received it from her +she drew her last breath. Before she died he asked her after her +babe--for Patricia was quite alone--but she did not seem to understand +him. Subsequently, however, he learnt from the villager that Patricia +had said her baby was dead. This was the mournful news which Father +Daniel conveyed to me in prison. Despite his attempts at consolation, +I felt when he left me that I was truly alone in the world. Brother, +wife, child, all dead! I prayed to God to send death to me soon. +What had I to live for? But there was my wife's letter, and before +twenty-four hours had passed I found an opportunity to read it. +Lauretta, that letter informed me what had become of my child, and it +laid upon me an obligation of secrecy for so long a time as I was in +prison. Patricia solemnly adjured me not to breathe to a living soul +that our child lived in your care; but I was to be released from this +obligation when I was a free man. Then I was to act as it seemed to me +right to act. Is there any need, Lauretta, for me to enter more fully +into the particulars of Patricia's letter?"</p> + +<p>"There is no need, Emilius."</p> + +<p>"Except, perhaps, to say that when you were lying senseless before +her, and your tender blossom lay dead in its cradle, it was only then +that the idea entered Patricia's mind of changing the children's +clothes, and leaving her baby with you. It was done, and Patricia +stole away with your dead child at her breast, herself to die, as she +well knew, before many weeks had passed. I have something to tell you, +Lauretta"--and here Emilius's voice was charged with a new note of +tenderness. "When Father Daniel next visited me I begged him to +discover where the dead babe was buried, and to put a few flowers on +the grave. The good priest did more. He paid a village woman to attend +to it, and he left a small sum of money to be spent in beautifying the +grave of your child. Flowers have grown upon it and around it from +that day to this. I visited the grave before I set forth on my journey +here, and I knelt and prayed there. I prayed a blessing upon you, +Lauretta, and I prayed that I might live to see the hope fulfilled +which shone like a star upon me through the long years of my prison +life. Lauretta," he cried, stretching forth his trembling hands, "my +child--my child"--</p> + +<p>"She lives," sobbed Mrs. Carew, "in goodness, health, and beauty--a +flower of sweetness!"</p> + +<p>He fell upon his knees before her, and kissed her dress, and it was +then I heard a sound without which, for a moment, transfixed me with +terror. They, overwhelmed by emotion, were deaf to this sound. It was +that of a man creeping stealthily from his chamber--and that man +Gabriel Carew. Quickly recovering myself, and feeling the necessity +for immediate and prompt action, I addressed Emilius and Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>"Attend to me," I said impressively. "All is well with you. You, +Emilius, have gained a daughter, and will embrace her at sunrise. You, +dear lady, have not lost a daughter, for Mildred will be to you as she +has ever been. I have proved myself your friend. Answer quickly--have +I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," they both replied.</p> + +<p>"Do not, therefore, ask me for the reasons for my present action. I +demand from you both a sacred promise--that you will not leave this +room till I call for you, till I give you permission. It shall be +given at the latest by sunrise. I must have this promise--I must!"</p> + +<p>My voice, my manner, Mrs. Carew's fears for her husband, and +confidence in me, compelled assent.</p> + +<p>"We give it," she said.</p> + +<p>"We give it," said Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I accept it, and bind you to it. What I do is for the good of +all--for your future, for Mildred's future--and to avert disaster. +Only I can do this. Whatever you hear, you will not open this door +without my permission, after I leave it. When I am gone, turn the key, +and admit no one unless I desire it. It is understood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," they said, "it is understood."</p> + +<p>As I closed the door behind me I heard the key turned in the lock.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.28" href="#ch2.28">XXVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The sound of soft footsteps proceeded, as I supposed, from Gabriel +Carew, but to my surprise he was not coming towards the room I had +just left, but was stealthily ascending the stairs which led to +Mildred's room. His eyes were open, and his movements were dictated by +intelligent caution, but he was asleep. In his left hand he carried +the naked dagger.</p> + +<p>I ran up the stairs softly and swiftly, heedless of danger to myself, +and walked by his side. He took no notice of me. Standing by the door +of Mildred's room he paused, and was about to put his hand to the +handle when I seized his wrist.</p> + +<p>"What are you about to do?" I whispered, my lips close to his ear. +"Speak low, the house must not be disturbed."</p> + +<p>To my horror, he replied, in a whisper as low and distinct as my own: +"'Our race must die with him; not one must live after him to +perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most solemnly upon him; if he +violate it he will be an incredible monster.'"</p> + +<p>They were the words written by his father which he had already quoted +to me earlier in the day.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter is not in that room," I said, not raising my voice, +grateful that we had as yet attracted no notice. "If you enter, your +purpose will be frustrated."</p> + +<p>"Who speaks to me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The spirit of murder," I said. "The Devil who is leading your soul to +perdition. Come with me. I will direct you aright."</p> + +<p>He shuddered, but he did not hesitate. With my hand still firmly +grasping his wrist, he allowed me to lead him from the room. We +descended the stairs, slowly, stealthily, until we reached the landing +upon which the study was situated. I led him into the room, and with +lightning motion locked the door and plucked out the key. Then, +uncertain how next to act, I took my hand from his wrist, and +retreated a few steps. He, also, was now uncertain of his movements. +He stood still a while, then tried the door, and finding it fast, took +some halting steps this way and that, and finally fell into the chair +in which he had been accustomed to write.</p> + +<p>As I gazed upon him I was sensible of a gradual change in his +appearance. A pallor crept into his face, a film seemed to come across +his eyes. Alarmed, I grasped his shoulder with rough strength, and +shook him violently.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew!" I called.</p> + +<p>He trembled in every limb, closed his eyes, and clasped them with his +hands--in one of which he still held the dagger. Presently he removed +his hands from his face, and looked confusedly at me.</p> + +<p>"Are you awake?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied faintly. "Give me a glass of water."</p> + +<p>I gave him a full glass, and he drained it. I observed as he did so +that it was only by an effort he prevented it from slipping from his +hand. Then he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"How came I here?" he asked. "Skilful as you are in your profession, +you can do nothing for me. How came I here?"</p> + +<p>"I conducted you hither," I said, "from the door of Mildred's room. +You have a dagger in your hand."</p> + +<p>Until this moment he seemed to be unconscious that he held the weapon, +and now he started and allowed it to drop to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Give thanks to God," I said solemnly, "that I stepped forward in time +to save the life of an innocent child."</p> + +<p>"Great God!" he murmured. "It is fit that I should die!"</p> + +<p>The silver chimes of the clock proclaimed the hour of two. He smiled +piteously and gratefully, and said, "It is almost time."</p> + +<p>"There is a hidden meaning in your words," I said. "What have you +done?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor, you are wrong. There is no hidden meaning in my words. All is +clear and plain. What should I do to myself? What should be done to +such a man as I? You are not deceiving me. You found me, you say, at +the door of my daughter's room, with the dagger in my hand?"</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"Then my purpose was murder. What further confirmation is needed of +the truth of my father's revelation? Be thankful, doctor, that your +son Reginald has escaped from my daughter, my miserable, unhappy +child. Ah, me! Whose fate is the heaviest, hers or mine, or the +innocent flower I married?"</p> + +<p>"I can give you some comfort," I said. "In one respect I can set your +heart at ease."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, impossible!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Not so. I have that to relate which though at first it may cause you +pain, cannot fail, upon reflection, to make you grateful. If I were to +tell you that you have not transmitted to an innocent girl the fatal +inheritance which has weighed like a curse upon your life, how would +it be with you?"</p> + +<p>"It would be heaven--it would be light! Unconscious sinner as I am, it +might mean forgiveness!"</p> + +<p>"I have been closeted with your wife, from whose lips I have heard +what you should hear. You will listen to me?"</p> + +<p>"Will you be long?" he asked, with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>"I will be as brief as possible--and receive it from me, as I received +it from your wife, that every word I utter is true."</p> + +<p>I told him the story of Mildred, who until now he had believed to be +his daughter. Perceiving that he was ill, I shortened it as much as +possible. Once or twice I paused in my recital, and asked him if he +was in pain.</p> + +<p>"In pain!" he cried. "When you are bringing heaven to me! The +agitation you observe in me proceeds from joy. Do not linger. Finish +quickly, quickly!"</p> + +<p>At the chiming of the half-hour my story was done. There was a happy +light in Carew's eyes. White as his face had grown, peace had stolen +into it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, I thank Thee!" he murmured, raising his arms; and then he +suddenly fell forward on his face.</p> + +<p>"I raised his head, and assisted him into a recumbent position.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. +"First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you +not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..."</p> + +<p>"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his +daughter that he came to England."</p> + +<p>"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my +angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... +It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked +of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these +years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the +subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go +quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no +pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!"</p> + +<p>I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay +back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his +face. But he was dead!</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:1em">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were +in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. +What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own +lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his +dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of +an awful crime.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:1em">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it +was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife +had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done +in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from +poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last +resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to +look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion.</p> + +<p>Emilius stood bareheaded by my side.</p> + +<p>"God forgive him!" said Emilius.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:4px">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">The disclosure of Mildred's real parentage made no difference in the +relations between her and Mrs. Carew. It was mother and daughter with +them, as it had always been, and even some additional and subtle tie +of new tenderness was added to the feelings of love for each other +which will animate their hearts till the last hours of their lives.</p> + +<p>No one in the county, with the exception of ourselves, is acquainted +with the story of Emilius. A dignified, gentle-mannered gentleman, he +quickly won the esteem of all who came in contact with him. There +often reigns in his face a strange expression of sadness, and he +sometimes speaks to me of Eric; but there is joy in his life, and he +is grateful for it.</p> + +<p>The marriage of Mildred and Reginald was postponed for a decent time, +and then these young people were made happy, and sent upon their +honeymoon, accompanied by blessings and tears and heartfelt wishes for +good.</p> + +<p>As I prepare to end my task I see in my mind's eye the form of one +who, in every act of her life, in every gentle word that falls from +her lips, has sanctified for me the name of Woman. Not only in idea, +but in deed. "God bless Mrs. Carew!" is said by many out of her +hearing, and if to live a good pure life will earn God's blessing, she +has earned it, and it is hers.</p> + + + +<div style="margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:3em"> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<h3>Richard Clay And Sons<br/> +London And Bungay.</h3> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45882 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + + diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdc33df --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #45882 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45882) diff --git a/old/45882-8.txt b/old/45882-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee061ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/45882-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4733 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3) + +Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +Release Date: June 4, 2014 [EBook #45882] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET INHERITANCE VOL 3 *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the +Web Archive and Google Books. + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ + (Oxford University) + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + + + A + SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + BY + + B. L. FARJEON, + + AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA," + "THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC. + + + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_ + VOL. III + + + + + LONDON + WARD AND DOWNEY + 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. + 1887 + + + + + + + Richard Clay and Sons, + LONDON AND BUNGAY. + + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE. + + * * * * * * + + BOOK THE SECOND (_Continued_). + +IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW IS +REVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND, +TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO., +CALIFORNIA. + + + + +VOL. III. + + + + + + + VII. + + +The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his version +of what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use the +phrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to say +to which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be applied +with the greater force--took place in private, only the accused and +the magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, being +present. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis and +Gabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in the +prisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimental +views which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as the +love which it was well known had existed between the brothers since +their birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned, +the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, and +the general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom he +had chiefly lived. + +"My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man's +life and character are not only valueless but misleading when the +passions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate him +utterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angel +to a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himself +for the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, the +judgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is the +victim of delusions." + +Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!" + +"Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely. + +Doctor Louis did not reply. + +"No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence, +and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabric +is destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evident +disinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours he +passed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He is +concealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When I +accused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether his +meeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he was +unable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remark +to which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There are +matters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would be +difficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person to +understand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was his +reply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime I +did not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Have +these mysterious matters between you and your brother of which you +speak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for the +prisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but he +corrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon his +murder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' he +replied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?' +I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, if +you were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely be +justified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, of +course, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal chooses +to intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery, +but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of putting +justice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before our +interview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intended +to persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered a +little, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to one +person only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying that +I would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused to +mention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine, +this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him to +his meditations." + +"Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt." + +"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate. + +"You once entertained an esteem for him." + +"True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of each +other. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldom +remove, hides so much!" + +"So much that is evil?" + +"That is my meaning." + +"You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Late events and a larger experience are driving me in that +direction," replied the magistrate. + +"Have you any objection to granting me a private interview with +Emilius?" + +"None whatever. You have but to name your own time." + +"May Mr. Carew see him also?" + +"If he wishes." + +In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due to +an absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was against +Emilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of the +accused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing what +he felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The one +person to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself." + +To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to Doctor +Louis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversion +which, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards each +other, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must have +been strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt it +his duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia. + +"But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, and +endeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappy +man. He was not successful. + +"There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly to +struggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more so +now. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise." + +Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius. + +"I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refused +the hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," he +said, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge." + +"You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, the +evidence was so black against Emilius. + +"I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogs +our family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyed +Eric; it will destroy me." + +"Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme, +"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reason +for my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have been examined +informed me that there is a certain matter in connection with this +deplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am I +he--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?" + +"I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement to +the magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were, +indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right." + +"And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own free +will. He bears me no friendship." + +"He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though you +have not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I am +sure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power." + +"Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Then +why should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is not +of this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received with +sympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who are +acquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related to +any other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of a +maniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. For +this reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate." + +"Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though I +am groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would not +confide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why you +should be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light of +your belief that Carew bears you no friendship." + +"I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should most +likely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptings +which a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one of +them. I perceive that you do not receive these apparent +inconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not, +through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with my +father, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to you +as a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, would +you not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wild +effort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it not +happened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities and +inconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake you +will be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son." + +Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius his +hand, who again refused it. + +"Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that I +fear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears be +confirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service. +Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, my +father's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder of +my brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, may +be briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, and +grew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric made +her acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should have +been frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patricia +instead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted his +doom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, there +are a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go frankly +to Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is a +question that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty in +answering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here, +and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared her +father; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, is +difficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her own +station in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman. +Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dread +that her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. I +did not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We were +married in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longer +possible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it was +discussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardon +when he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was for +an earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union with +me, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep, +unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' she +said; and I believed it would. + +"This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of my +brother Eric." + + + + + VIII. + + +"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he +recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours +which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her +father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to +wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a +horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken +for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and +Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my +watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when +Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and +upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the +jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with +fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had +had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was +overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that +we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep +without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe +she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made +preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished +her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with +which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it, +and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber. + +"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part +of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night +was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry +moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep. +I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing +was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for, +upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I +had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing +quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I +judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were +aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative. + +"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation? + +"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few +minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible +that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time, +but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's +sleep. + +"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual +existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated +with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a +strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown +to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to +_my_ brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of +love, and who had inspired in _his_ heart feelings akin to my own. The +tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and +the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging +both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another, +which was the chief cause of my violent awaking. + +"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon +which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking +through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious +moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the +ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its +details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind +him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in +its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and +warn him!' + +"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke. + +"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had +come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the +warning? + +"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay. +Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name. +She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing +her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper, +'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!' + +"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I +awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I +might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having +neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by +other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son. + +"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my +absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have +forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is +well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her +breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her. + +"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without +hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the +forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and +recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams. +And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me, +strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him. + +"'Eric!' + +"'Emilius!' + +"But there was no friendliness in his tone. + +"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried. + +"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied. + +"'In search of me?' + +"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must +speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.' + +"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh. + +"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked. + +"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and +tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes; +shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!' + +"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially +all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview. +Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I +succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious +wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me. + +"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should +have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother, +that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It +lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia. +It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.' + +"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I +succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were +guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe +that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his +side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he +had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well, +kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the +witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an +injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart +is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my +reason when I think of my wife and unborn child. + +"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And +then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable +impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him +to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and +that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place, +and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely +dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them. +'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been +fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have +loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.' + +"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest. +I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison." + +"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis. + +"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply. + + + + + IX. + + +Throughout this narration Doctor Louis was impressed by the suspicion +that something was hidden from him. He pressed Emilius upon the point, +and his suspicion was strengthened by the evasive replies he received. + +"Enough, for the present, of myself," said Emilius; "let me hear +something of the outside world--of the world that is dead to me." + +"What do you wish to know?" asked Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Of yourselves," replied Emilius. "Of your good wife, whom I used to +look upon as a second mother. She is well?" + +"She is well," said Doctor Louis, "but in deep unhappiness because of +these terrible events." + +"How does she regard me--as innocent or guilty?" + +"She has the firmest belief in your innocence. When I told her I was +about to visit you, she desired me to give you her love and sympathy." + +"It is like her. And Lauretta?" + +"I did not inform her that I was coming. She is in great distress. You +and Eric were as brothers to her." + +"And now," said Emilius, with a certain recklessness of manner which +puzzled Doctor Louis, "one is dead and the other disgraced. But she +will live through it. She has a happy future before her?" + +He put this somewhat in the form of a question, to which Doctor Louis +replied without hesitation: "We have the best of reasons for hoping +so. But our conversation, Emilius, appears to have taken a heartless +turn. Let us rather consider the chances of establishing your +innocence and setting you free." + +"No, let us continue to speak of your family. There may not be another +opportunity--who knows? My judges may take it into their heads to keep +me in solitary confinement, and to deprive me entirely of the solace +of friendly intercourse, until they have got rid of me altogether. The +chances of establishing my innocence are scarcely worth considering; +they are so slender. Slender! They are not even that. I see no +loophole, nor do you. What is wanted is fact--hard, solid fact, such +as an actual witness, or a frank confession from the murderer. +Everything tangible and intangible is against me. Eric and I were +rivals in a woman's love; we had a meeting, in which we reconciled our +differences, and in which the horror of brotherly hatred was scotched +clean dead. Who were present at this meeting? My dear brother, who is +gone and cannot testify; and I, whose interest it is to say whatever +my tongue can utter in my defence. To prove my innocence I can bring +forward--what? Shadows. I could forgive my judges for laughing at me +were I to set up such a defence. Easier to believe that I killed my +brother in a dream. Could that be proved, there would be some hope for +me, for it might be argued that I was not accountable. Let us dismiss +it. I have told you all I know positively; for the rest, I am strong +enough to keep it to myself, being aware of the manner in which it +would be received." + +"Surely you are not wearied of life!" said Doctor Louis, shocked at +this reckless mood. + +"That is not to the point. Wearied or not, it is not in my power to +choose. Were I free, were my fate in my own hands, it would be worth +my while to consider how to act in order that the crime might be fixed +upon the guilty one. And hearken, Doctor, I am not swayed by impulse; +there is something of inward direction which holds me up. I hear +voices, I see visions--not to be heard or seen or taken into account +in a court of justice; of value only in a prison. They assure me that, +though I may suffer and be disgraced, I shall not die until my +innocence is proved." + +"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed Doctor Louis. + +"Meanwhile, I wait and take the strokes which fate deals out to me. A +crushed manhood, a ruined life, a blasted happiness! And there is a +happy future, you say, before Lauretta? You have every confidence in +Mr. Carew? Lauretta loves him?" + +"With her whole heart." + +"And you and your good wife approve--are content to intrust her +happiness into his keeping?" + +"We are content--we approve." + +"May all be as you hope! Say nothing to them of me. The best mercy +that can be accorded to me is the mercy of forgetfulness. I have a +favour to beg of you." + +"It is granted." + +"You will be kind to my wife; you will not desert her--you will, if +necessary, protect her from her father, who, I fear, will never +forgive her?" + +"I will do all that lies in my power to further your wishes--though I +still hope for a favourable turn in your affairs." + +"Your hope is vain," said Emilius. "I thank you for your promise." + + + + + X. + + +There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminent +lawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their case +was so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. They +pleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerable +point. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character of +the accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, to +acts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts were +not entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but a +chord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it. +A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he was +condemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away, +and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but it +was long before they forgot him. + +These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carew +and Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace to +submit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himself +more than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness to +Lauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered its +healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to +religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of +rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their +honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The +sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly +said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful +auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were +henceforth one. + +They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, +travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters +home betokened that they were perfectly happy. + +"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness +and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. +Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; +heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the +precious gift of a nature so pure?" + +Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had +given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was +ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the +village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had +gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little +missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of +infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first +which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was +the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's +grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta +had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan +during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes +were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not +immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more +her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few +minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of +his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those +faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might +prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. +Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting +apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the +other end of the room. + +"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?" + +"Very, very happy." + +"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever." + +"Yes. I would wish that she should never change." + +"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh. + +"Yes, unhappily." + +"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when +they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to +bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good +life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in +which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that must +count!" + +"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just." + +"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, +after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three +months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things +than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe +anything?" + +"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone. + +"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than +when you saw her last?" + +"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as +if she had passed through a sickness." + +"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly to +her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled +with fears for her." + +"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are +brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them." + +"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes +fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that +has excited her." + +"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. +They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said +during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence of +my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear +mother will grow stronger." + +It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew +weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which +Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the +minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not +longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return. + +"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis. + +It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise +nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these +would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by +his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta +did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even +the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss +of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn +with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the +hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men +and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from +morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, +and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly +left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes +brightened when she was told of this. + +"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free +from temptation and sin!" + +These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel +Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the +terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once +innocent village with blood and crime. + +"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though +they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in +Emilius's innocence." + +"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. +Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'" + +It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the +village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally +applied to her. + +"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble +offerings at her door. + +In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, +was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving +messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wish +being father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all, +a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope +that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad +occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify +their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a +feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel +Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on +Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before +Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He +was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of +that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. +Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in +his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which +he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the +priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and +that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did +not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had +once been friends. + +So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family +the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death. + +"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew. + +There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her +request that they were alone. + +"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be +dealt by as I deal by her!" + +"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You +have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No +thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is +the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing +what was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I have +been much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emilius +to be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breath +I declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one I +loved as my son if I did not say this to you." + +"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?" + +"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe as +I believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her, +if you can. Promise me." + +"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she will +receive help from me." + +"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, +she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one +question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in +your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?" + +"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to +him at such a moment. + +"Absolutely nothing?" + +"Absolutely nothing." + +"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever +darken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, +teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as the +example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter +to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at +him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel." + +He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to +Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of +death. + +Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised +his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn +for resentment or coldness. + +"Pray with me," said the priest. + +Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's +direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners. + +Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned +to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of +the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly +and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly +around her. + +When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. The +shops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly, +and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit was +looking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning of +the funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantities +of simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from Doctor +Louis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds were +singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard. + +"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis to +Lauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she would +like to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how the +years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful +for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly +woman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes." + +And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!" + +The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowers +are growing. + + + + + XI. + + +So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were +they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their +departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not +been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their +favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, +because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his +face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one +who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his +clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed +about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or +for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for +private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too +close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he +entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to +children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and +women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. +Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at +the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person +from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one +servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, +and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the +sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite +purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, +gazing at him. He approached and addressed her. + +"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said. + +"This is it," the servant replied. + +"So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. +Is the master at home?" + +"No." + +"He lives here, doesn't he?" + +"He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, +and has not yet taken up his residence." + +"His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?" + +"Yes. + +"Ah, they're married, then?" + +"Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a +stranger." + +"Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is +he?" + +"It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, +resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name. + +"Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?" + +"You will find him in the village." + +"That's a wide address." + +"He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where +that is." + +"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and +said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?" + +"He left months ago." + +"Left, has he? Where for?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"Because you won't?" + +"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow." + +"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was +brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out +of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil +shake of his head. + +"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can +be no harm in my asking where _have_ you come from--being, as you say, +a stranger in these parts?" + +"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a +different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to +anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for +your information." + +He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no +difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that +something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took +mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was +witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was +taken to its last resting-place. He did not know at the time whether +it was man or woman, and he took no pains to ascertain till the +religious ceremony was over. Then he addressed himself to a little +girl. + +"Who is dead?" + +"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl. + +"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer +to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a +mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if +not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages +which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?" + +"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife." + +"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" +Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?" + +"Dead," said the little girl mournfully. + +"And you are sorry?" + +"Everybody is sorry." + +"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what _he_ said." Again, aloud: +"That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?" + +"Yes." + +"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter?" + +"Yes." + +"Is her husband there--Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out. + +The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled +with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, +gazed at them, as though in the endeavour to fix their faces in his +memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. +None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special +sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away, he followed them at a +little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone +from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because +for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. +Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exactions is not to +be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which +he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the +afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him. + +"You are Father Daniel?" + +"I am." And the priest, with his earnest eyes upon the stranger, said, +"I do not know you." + +"No," replied the man, "I have never seen you before to-day. We are +strangers to each other. But I have heard much of you." + +"From whom?" + +"From Emilius," said the man. + +"Emilius!" cried Father Daniel, and signs of agitation were visible on +his face. "Are you acquainted with him? Have you seen him lately? + +"I am acquainted with him. I saw him three days ago." + +Father Daniel fell back with a sudden impulse of revulsion, and with +as sudden an impulse of contrition said humbly, "Forgive me--forgive +me!" + +"It is I who should ask that," said the man, with a curious and not +discreditable assumption of manliness, in the humbleness of which a +certain remorseful abasement was conspicuous. He bowed his head. +"Bless me, Father!" + +"Do you deserve it?" + +"I need it," said the man; and the good priest blessed him. + +"It is, up to now," said the man presently, raising his head, "as +Emilius told me. But he could not lie." + +"You are his friend?" said Father Daniel. + +"I am not worthy to be called so," said the man. "I am a sinner. He is +a martyr." + +"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me your hand. Nay, I will have it. We +are brothers. No temptation has been mine. I have not sinned because +sin has not presented itself to me in alluring colours. I have never +known want. My parents were good, and set me a good example. They +taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?" + +"And I, Father?" said the man in softened accents. "I! Great God, what +am I?" It was as though a revelation had fallen upon him. It held him +fast for a few moments, and then he recovered his natural self. "I +have never been as yourself, Father. My lot was otherwise. I don't +complain. But it was not my fault that I was born of thieves--though, +mind you, Father, I loved my mother." + +"My son," said Father Daniel, bowing his head, "give _me_ your +blessing." + +"Father!" + +"Give _me_ your blessing!" + +Awed and compelled, the man raised his trembling hands above Father +Daniel's head. When the priest looked again at the man he saw that his +eyes were filled with tears. + +"You come from Emilius." + +"Yes, with messages which I promised to deliver. I have been in prison +for fifteen years. Emilius joined us; we hardened ones were at first +surprised, afterwards we were shocked. It was not long before we grew +to love him. Father, is there justice in the world?" + +"Yes," said Father Daniel, with a false sternness in his voice. "That +it sometimes errs is human. Your messages! To whom?" + +"To one who is dead--a good woman." He lowered his head a moment. "I +will keep it here," touching his breast; "it will do me no harm. To +you." + +"Deliver it." + +"Emilius desired me to seek you out, and to tell you he is innocent." + +"I know it." + +"That is the second. The third is but one word to a man you +know--Gabriel Carew." + +"He is here," said Father Daniel. + +With head bowed down to his breast, Gabriel Carew came from Doctor +Louis's house. His face was very pale. The loss which had fallen upon +him and Lauretta had deeply affected him. Never had he felt so humble, +so purified, so animated by sincere desire to live a worthy life. + +"This man has a message to deliver to you," said Father Daniel to him. + +Gabriel Carew looked at the man. + +"I come from Emilius," said the man, "and am just released from +prison. I promised him to deliver to you a message of a single word in +the presence of Father Daniel." + +In a cold voice and with a stern look Gabriel Carew said, "All is +prepared. What is your message?" + +"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking." + +"I understand." + +"Murderer!" + + + + + XII. + + +In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this +recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate +events, in order that the interest of the story should not be +weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached +will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state +at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's +mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the +village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, +named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have +only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship +whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return +to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there +were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to +settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly +distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the +inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against +him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his +company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for +which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his +flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged +those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing +their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. +Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis +died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the +break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest +contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few +weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his +feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in +his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to +demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by +her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant +persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, +and her new life commenced in a foreign land. + +Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in +England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, +as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that +five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of +Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations +were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The +grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken +of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to +set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always +excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the +master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a +fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not +only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the +gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely +more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was +some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel +Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in +association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I +can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, +we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before +you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you +to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is +removed. + +Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not +necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young +people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. +Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. +For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too +old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls +who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special +privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to +this lady's house. + +From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He +had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his +heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told +me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was +she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of +course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes. + +These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. +In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information +respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father. + +He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and +danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love +with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my +son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of +his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting +light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature. + +For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met +Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young +lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the +house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance +party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty +years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting +her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at +me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight. + +"It would be an excellent match," she said. + +"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?" + +She smiled, and replied, "Well, only in imagination." + +I gave a sigh of relief. I had no wish that Reginald should seriously +compromise himself with a young lady who was a total stranger to me. +She renewed my uneasiness, however, by saying, + +"Yes, only in imagination so far as an actual declaration is +concerned. But, my dear sir, the young people have settled it for +themselves, without consulting wiser and older heads than their own. +It is the way of young people." + +She spoke rather quizzically, as though playing with me for an idle +gratification, and I told her as much. She instantly became serious, +and assured me that had she not approved of the more than liking that +Reginald and Miss Carew had for each other, she would have taken steps +to keep them apart. + +"Then the mischief is done," I said. + +"If you deem it mischief," was her reply. "Yes, it is done. The pair +are passionately in love with each other. But I am mistaken in my +opinion of them if they are not to be trusted. They will do nothing in +secret; when the affair becomes so serious as to render an open +declaration inevitable, they will consult those nearest to them, to +whom they owe a duty. In that respect I will answer for Mildred. You +should be able to answer for Reginald. Now that your eyes are opened, +invite his confidence. Speak to him frankly and lovingly, and he will +conceal nothing from you. I repeat, it would be an excellent match. +She is in every way worthy of him, and he is worthy of her. She is a +lady; her mother is a lady, and the personification of sweetness, +though I fancy sometimes she has a sorrow. But what human being is +perfectly happy? And Mildred's father is a gentleman." + +"Are you well acquainted with him?" I asked. + +"No, not well acquainted. There are few who can say that of him. He is +a man whose absolute friendship it would be hard to gain. All the more +precious, therefore, to him who wins the prize. It might be worth your +while to try, for Reginald's sake. Should his suit be accepted, an +intimacy between you and Mr. Carew is inevitable. You will find him a +man of rare acquirements. You have a leaning towards men and women who +think for themselves, and who have a vein of originality. Mr. Carew +being of this order, you will be naturally drawn to him. A not +inconsequential item in the programme is that he is wealthy, and that +Mildred is his only child. Mrs. Carew and Mildred have just entered +the room. I must go to them; follow me in a moment or two, and I will +introduce you." + +I obeyed her instructions, and in a short time was made known to them. + + + + + XIII. + + +I did not agree with Reginald's estimate of their beauty. He placed +Mildred first, and her mother second. My judgment reversed this order. +Mildred was truly a most beautiful girl, but Mrs. Carew's beauty was +of a quality which, the moment I set eyes on her, impressed me more +deeply than I had ever been in my life by the sight of a woman's face. +It is not only that it is physically perfect, but that there is in it +a spirituality which took my heart and my mind captive. It is as +though the soul of a pure woman is there reflected--of a woman who, if +she ruled the world, would banish from it suffering and injustice. She +is the incarnation of sweetness and gentleness; and yet I could not +avoid observing in her features the traces of a secret sorrow to which +the lady of the house had referred. This indication of a grief nobly +and patiently borne added to her beauty, and deepened the impression +it produced upon me. I am not exaggerating when I say that, standing +before her, I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. Were I a +painter, my ambition would be to fix upon canvas a faithful portrait +of one so pure and lovely. I should call my picture Peace. + +Her daughter differs from her in appearance. Her beauty is of another +type--milder, more full of expression and variety; she has opposite +moods which, as occasion serves, are brought into play in +contradiction of each other. This may render her more captivating to a +young man like Reginald, and were I as young as he I might also find a +greater attraction in the daughter than in the mother. A sweet and +beautiful girl, modest and graceful in all her movements, I was +satisfied that Reginald had chosen well, and at the same time I was +convinced that all the earnestness of his soul was engaged in the +enterprise. + +"I am happy," said Mrs. Carew to me, "to know Reginald's father." + +"No less happy am I," was my rejoinder, "in making the acquaintance of +a lady of whom I have heard so much." + +"Reginald has spoken of me?" + +"Of you and your daughter--continually, from the first evening on +which he had the happiness of meeting you. It was for the purpose of +obtaining an introduction to you that I came here to-night, an +uninvited guest." + +I felt that there must be no concealment in my intercourse with Mrs. +Carew. To be honest and outspoken was the surest way of winning her +friendship. Reginald and Mildred had wandered away, her hand upon his +arm. Mrs. Carew's eyes followed them, tenderly and wistfully. + +"We shall be very happy to see you at Rosemullion," she said; and I +promised to pay her an early visit. + +"Well?" said my hostess, when I left Mrs. Carew's side. + +"I cannot but approve," I answered. "I have never met a sweeter lady. +If the daughter's nature resembles her mother's, and Reginald is +fortunate enough to win her, he will be a happy man." + +My hostess smiled and nodded in satisfaction. An inveterate +match-maker, she was always delighted at the success of her +good-natured schemes. + +On the following day I visited Mrs. Carew, and made the acquaintance +of her husband, Gabriel Carew. I will not waste time by giving a +description of him. What you have already read will have prepared you +for his introduction _in propria persona_. Sufficient to say that I +was favourably impressed, and that I had not been in his company five +minutes before I discovered that the gentleman I was conversing with +was a man of extraordinary erudition and mental compass. I was +fortunate enough to win his favour; he showed me over his library--a +collection made by himself, and which could only have been gathered by +one of superior attainments. That my society was agreeable to her +husband was a manifest pleasure to Mrs. Carew, and once during his +temporary absence to obtain a book of which we had been conversing she +expressed a hope that we should be often together. + +"He is too much of a recluse," she said. "I have wished that he should +mix in society more than he does--indeed, he sees very little of +life--but he has a distaste for it." + +I replied that the distaste of a man like Gabriel Carew to share in +the frivolities of the age was to be easily understood. She answered +wisely, "Surely a little innocent frivolity is not to be condemned. +One may become too serious." + +"Mr. Carew is a student?" I said. + +"From his early youth," she replied, "he has been devoted to +book-lore. His young life was lived here in seclusion, and it was not +till after the death of his parents that he saw anything of the +world." + +Mr. Carew returned, and looked at us smilingly. He touched his wife's +hand lightly, but slight as was the action, there was affection in it. + +"I possess the gift of divination," he said. "You have been speaking +of me?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. + +"And of my love of solitude," he continued. "But what is bred in the +bone--you understand. There are inherited virtues and inherited vices. +The question is, at what point does actual responsibility become a +burden for which we can be justly called to account, and until that +moment, to define its precise relation to committed acts? Is it your +opinion that crime can be justified?" + +"No," I said. + +"Under no circumstances?" + +"Under no circumstances." + +"Early teaching, early habits, transmitted vices of the blood--are +they not factors? A man is an entity--complete possessor of his own +body and soul, which may be pure or hideous according to +circumstances. But you make him arbitrarily accountable. Do not +misunderstand me--I am simply theorising. Nothing of the argument +applies to me except my love of solitude, which is harmless, and hurts +no man. I have had experiences of the world, and have been misjudged. +There was a time when I was angry, when I inwardly rebelled. I do so +no longer. I am content. My wife, my child, my home, my lonely habits, +make up the sum of a fairly happy life. Are you fond of tea?" + +The light question, addressed to me in the midst of serious words, +somewhat startled me. I answered, "Yes;" and upon a motion from her +husband Mrs. Carew left the room to prepare the tea. Gabriel Carew +explained. + +"It is not ordered in this room because of a whim of mine. My wife has +an apartment which is to me a sanctuary of rest, and there it is that +we often sit and read and converse as we drink our tea. She is anxious +about me, but there is really no cause for anxiety. She has an idea +that solitude is affecting my health; she is mistaken; I was never +stronger, never better." He broke off suddenly with the remark, "You +are a physician?" + +"It will be correct to say I was," I replied. "Many years ago I +relinquished practice." + +"So I have heard; and I have also learnt that you held a distinguished +position. I have in my library your book treating of diseases of the +mind, in which you avoid the common ground of demonstrable insanity. +You speak there, if I remember aright, of inherited mental disease." + +"I have devoted two chapters to the theme." + +"And clearly confute," he pursued, "the statement you made just now +that under no circumstances can crime be justified." + +"I made that statement," I said, a little confused by this just +challenge, "from a general standpoint." + +"I speak from an individual standpoint," he remarked. "Which of the +two is the more human? However, this is diverging somewhat. Can you +tell me why, as twilight approaches, a change in my mood works +mysteriously within me? I was gay--I become morose. I was cheerful--I +am sad." + +"Nerves," I said, "affected by external forces. That is the only +answer I can at present give, knowing so little of you." + +Twilight was upon us as we conversed, and I observed that his face was +growing dark. With a strong, healthy, and decided motion he shook off +the influence, and held out his hand to me. + +"Know more of me," he said. "I have been informed of the mutual liking +which has sprung up between my daughter Mildred and your son. We will +speak of this seriously at a future time. Meanwhile, let your son +visit us; my home is open to him and you. I have a horror of +secrecies. We will shape our course in the light. Shall we strive to +be friends?" + +Apart from my inclination to be upon friendly terms with him--in the +first instance born of my anxiety for Reginald's happiness--there was +in Gabriel Carew's manner an irresistible charm, and I now desired his +friendship for my own sake as well as for Reginald's. I met his +advances cordially, and we spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Carew and +Mildred in the room which Carew had likened to a sanctuary. Its +influence upon him was an influence for good. The gloom which had +gathered on his face with the approach of night faded away, and was +replaced by a cheerfulness which found vent in his speech. I was more +than ever surprised at the vast stores of knowledge which he had +acquired. There was not a subject started of which he was not master, +and upon which he was not able to throw a new light, and when we +parted it was with mutual expressions of esteem, and with a mutual +wish that the intimacy thus auspiciously commenced should be allowed +to ripen into a close and genuine friendship. What particularly struck +me was the almost worshipping love Carew entertained for his wife. We +were standing in the garden, when, with a tender, personal application +of a theme we had broached, Carew said: + +"You know the old legend of every human being being accompanied +through life by two angels, one good and one bad each striving to +obtain mastery over him. My good angel is a visible one, and it is +ever by my side." + +He placed his hand upon his wife's shoulder, and she raised her eyes +to his. They gazed upon each other like lovers, and at that moment +there was not upon either face a trace of gloom or sorrow. + +"True love exists between those two," I thought, as I wended my way +home. "The shadows that hover round them are but idle fancies. I +rejoice that a daughter of these noble people has won my son's heart." + + + + + XIV. + + +A general survey of the few months that followed will suffice. There +are many small details which it would be pleasant to dwell upon, but +these may be safely left to the imagination. They consist for the most +part of the episodes which marked the progress of the love affair +between Mildred and Reginald--who, without any distinct declaration +from us, conducted themselves toward each other as an engaged couple. +We elder people tacitly held back from entering into an express +engagement, Mrs. Carew waiting, as it were, upon my movements and +those of her husband. I am in a position to explain the reasons of my +own backwardness in this important matter. Gabriel Carew's reasons +must, for the present, be left to explain themselves. I need scarcely +say that Reginald and Mildred were perfectly happy, being satisfied +that they possessed our sanction to their love. No fault was theirs in +this respect. If blame was due anywhere, we, their parents, were the +persons upon whom it justly fell. + +The hope of a binding friendship between myself and Mr. and Mrs. Carew +was more than fulfilled. Not only did we become firm friends, but the +closest confidential relations were established between us. So much so +that I became acquainted with the history of the inner and outer lives +of Gabriel Carew and his sweet wife. There was little to learn of Mrs. +Carew's life which I had not already imagined; it was a record of +innocence and sweetness. But what I learnt of Gabriel Carew afforded +me food for grave reflection. So intimate were our relations, so +perfect was the confidence he reposed in me, that he concealed nothing +from me. His frankness won my admiration and greatly disturbed me. The +recital of his youthful life, of his midnight wanderings, of his +solitary musings, and afterwards of the death of his parents, of his +entrance into Nerac, of his intimacy with the family of Doctor Louis, +and of the tragic events that occurred in the peaceful village, made +up the sum of the strangest record which had ever been imparted to me. +I confess to being much affected by the fate of Eric and Emilius, and +I asked Carew whether he had heard anything of Emilius of late years. +His reply was that he had heard nothing, and that the unhappy man was +probably dead. + +"You have no doubt that he was guilty?" I asked. + +"Not the slightest doubt," said Carew. + +I was not so sure; the story had excited within me a singular sympathy +for Emilius. + +Now, in what I am about to say with respect to Gabriel Carew, I had, +at that time, I admit, the slightest of grounds; and the powerful +effect a certain suspicion had upon me was all the more singular +because of the absence of reliable evidence. The study I had made for +many years of the different forms in which insanity presents itself +was very captivating to me, and in the course of my researches I +unearthed some weird particulars, of which, were I a writer of +fiction, I could make effective use. Gabriel Carew was an affectionate +husband and father, a faithful mate to his wife, a wise counsellor to +his daughter. He had not a vice which I could discover. He was neither +a spendthrift nor a libertine. He drank in moderation, and he never +gambled; indeed, he detested all games of chance. His views of men and +manners were singularly correct, and denoted a well-balanced brain. It +was only where his affections were concerned that he could be called +in any way extravagant; but this would be accounted rather a virtue +than a vice. His recreations were intellectual, and he sought pleasure +and happiness only in his home and in association with books and his +wife and child. What judgment would you, from a distance, pass upon +such a man? What but that of entire approval? But I was in daily +contact with him, and signs were visible to me which greatly disturbed +me. To speak plainly, I doubted Gabriel Carew's perfect sanity! + +This was a matter of most serious moment. If Carew were not sane, his +disease, so far as I could judge, was of a harmless form. The proof of +this lay in his affection for those of his blood, and--which, in +evidence is, in my opinion, quite as strong--in his tenderness to +animals and birds. But I have to a certainty established not only that +insanity is hereditary, but that what is harmless in the parent may +become destructive in the child. Mildred was Carew's daughter, and to +all appearance as free from any touch of insanity as the most +healthful of human beings. But the germ must be in her, to be +transmitted to her children--to Reginald's children if he married her. + +This consideration impelled me to secret action in the way of inquiry. +It would have been, useless to appeal to Reginald, and to set before +him the probable consequences of such an union. My counsel would have +fallen upon idle ears. My duty, however, was clear. It was for me to +protect him. + +Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me +by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much +which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the +motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was +of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, +anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt +to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to +exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with +hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before +the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear +up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those +early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing +upon his youth. + +"It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom +myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to +you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the +morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, +perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after +sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of +old age." + +I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, +with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these +discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not +mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not +appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person +who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave +a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of +years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any +correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and +he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that +time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, +supposing her to be still living. + +"In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an +address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing +some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said +presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?" + +"Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection." + +Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may +reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you +in your inquiry." + +I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he +had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and +encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle +and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The +next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had +told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me +also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most +intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would +communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her +power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to +pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his +presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the +information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a +sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made +preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of +the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress. + + + + + XV. + + +A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years +of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour +about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most +strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished +her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would +have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her +that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed +to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no +surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. +Carew. + +"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her. + +She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket. + +"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked. + +"He is well," I replied. + +"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she +said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and +never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what +might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he has not carried out his intention?" + +There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right +and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made. + +"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed. + +She nodded assent. + +"As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is +married?" + +She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of +interest within her at this intelligence. + +"Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?" + +"No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year." + +"Is his wife living?" she asked. + +"Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her +portrait?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I +thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. +I handed her the picture. + +"A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me. + +"Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, +beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her." + +"Is she happy?" + +"Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of +love." + +"That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?" + +Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to +give, she took advantage of it. + +"Then he is not happy?" + +"I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere +light curiosity that I have sought you." + +"It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. +You are not here at my bidding." + +"True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from +Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with +him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person +living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of +his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack +of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been +matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, +believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the +case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. +His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting +with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which +reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your +refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was +alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more +hurtful than the truth might have been." + +She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been." + +"But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have +contributed to avert evil consequences?" + +"To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?" + +"To others," I replied. + +"I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that +question. You have more to say." + +"There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. +Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to +your sense of justice would probably weigh with you." + +"It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any +profession?" + +"I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I +practised as a physician." + +"In a general way, or as a specialist?" + +"Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon +certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you +would like to read it." + +"It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should +have devoted myself to that branch of the profession." + +I gave her the book, which she placed aside. "It is not, however, +solely in that capacity," I said, "that I am here. That certain +indefinite impressions, springing from my professional experiences, +have prompted me, I do not deny; but my strongest reasons are private +ones. Is it your belief that insanity is hereditary and ineradicable?" + +"That is my firm belief," she said. + +"It is also mine. Mrs. Fortress, are you a married woman?" + +"I married a few months after I left Mr. Carew's service. Within two +years of my marriage I lost my husband." + +"Have you any children?" + +"One--a son." + +"Who must be now approaching manhood?" + +"Yes." + +"That is my case. My wife is dead, and I have an only child--a +son--who is deeply in love with Gabriel Carew's daughter." + +This introduction of Miss Carew threw Mrs. Fortress off her guard; +there was a startled flash in her eyes. + +"I am sorry to hear," she said, "that Mr. Carew has a daughter. Has he +other children?" + +"No. Mildred Carew is, like your son and mine, an only child. I +purposely brought three things with me, in the hope that they would +help me in my purpose. Two you have--my book and the portrait of +Gabriel Carew's wife. Here is the portrait of his daughter." + +She examined it with the greatest interest, and remarked that she saw +no resemblance in it to the father. + +"That has struck me," I observed; "neither does she resemble her +mother in any marked manner. But that sometimes happens, though it is +not the rule." + +"Is there an engagement between your son and Miss Carew?" + +"They are courting each other, with a view to marriage." + +"With your consent?" + +"Yes, but it was given before I became intimate with Mr. Carew." + +"And since then you have repented?" + +"I have been greatly disturbed." + +"Rather," she said slowly, "than my son should marry a daughter of Mr. +Carew's, I would see him in his grave." + +This declaration profoundly agitated me, so far did it go to confirm +me in my suspicions. "I asked you a question a few moments since," I +said, "and you said you would wait a little before you answered it. +Will you answer it now?" + +"Your question was, 'Had a painful truth been revealed to Mr. Carew +when he was a single gentleman, whether it might have averted evil +consequences to others.'" + +"You have stated it correctly." + +"It might have done," she said. "But it appeared to me that Mr. Carew +was the last man in the world to attract a woman's heart. I often said +to myself, 'He will never marry.'" + +"You were mistaken." + +"I was; and I say again I am sorry." She took from her pocket the +letter I had given her from Mr. Carew, and read it carefully and +slowly, in a new light it seemed to me. Even when she had finished the +perusal she did not immediately speak, but sat in silent thought a +while. + +"I am not a tender-hearted woman," she said, "and not easy to move +when I pledge myself. Mr. Carew's father behaved well to me, and +fulfilled his promise of providing for me if it was in his power to do +so after the death of his wife. I, on my part, kept the two promises I +made him when I entered his service. The first was not to leave his +service during the lifetime of his wife; the second not to divulge, +without powerful cause, the secret of the unhappy inheritance he +feared his wife had transmitted to their son. When I bade farewell to +Mr. Gabriel Carew in Rosemullion, I saw no such cause for divulging +the secret, and I declined to satisfy my young master. It may be +different now, and I may be tempted to satisfy _you_." + +"Out of your sense of justice?" I observed. + +"Not entirely. Mr. Carew's letter contains the offer of a reward." + +I met her instantly and with eagerness. "I am prepared to pay it." + +"It happens that I am in need of a sum of money. An opportunity is +open to my son which will be to his advantage, but I am not rich +enough to purchase it." + +"How much is needed?" I asked. + +She named a sum which was modest in comparison with the limit which +Gabriel Carew had given me, and I at once consented to pay it to her +for her information. I had money with me, and I counted out the amount +she required, and handed it to her. After ascertaining that it was +correct, she commenced. + +"When I accepted the situation Mr. Carew offered me, I did it with my +eyes open. I was at that time employed in a lunatic asylum, and was +dissatisfied with my rate of pay. Mr. Carew offered me higher terms. +His wife was a dangerous woman, and needed constant watching. Properly +speaking, she should have been placed in an asylum, but the thought of +so doing was hateful to her husband, who desired to keep his domestic +affliction from public knowledge. He would have regarded such a +disclosure as an indelible disgrace. There are similar secrets in many +families. At the time he married her, he had no suspicion that her +blood was tainted, and it was only three months before the birth of +Gabriel Carew that he made the discovery. I do not profess to be +thoroughly familiar with all the particulars; I am not a prying woman, +and was contented with what he told me. When he made the dreadful +discovery he and his wife were abroad, and the occasion of it, so far +as I could gather, ran in this fashion. Mr. Carew was occupying a +house in Switzerland--he was rich at the time--and was entertaining +guests. Among them was a false friend who was managing his affairs in +England, where Mr. Carew lived for the greater part of every year. +Ultimately this friend robbed him of his fortune, which Mr. Carew +never recovered, coming, however, into another later on, which enabled +him to purchase the estate of Rosemullion. One evening there was a +large party in Mr. Carew's house, in which his friend was stopping. +Mrs. Carew was passionately fond of music, and there was a Tyrolean +air for which she had an infatuation. She sang and played it again and +again, and became much excited. It is not out of place to say that she +was a very beautiful woman. The evening passed on, and the guests had +departed. All but one--her husband's false friend, who was stopping in +the house. Either his duties as a polite host or some other business +called her husband away, and Mrs. Carew and this friend were left +alone. He asked her to play and sing again, and she did so for him; +and then he made love to her. She repulsed him indignantly, but he was +not to be easily daunted, and a climax arrived when he grossly +insulted her. This roused her to fury, and she caught an ornamental +dagger---but a weapon capable of mischief--from the table, and would +have plunged it into his heart had he not caught her wrist and +disarmed her. He flung the dagger away, and then coolly told her that +her husband had implicit confidence in him, and that he would invent a +story that would ruin her. He told her, too, that he had her husband +in his power, that she and he were at his mercy, and that he could +beggar them at any moment. There occurred then a singular change in +her; her excitement left her, and she became as cool as he. Deceived +by this, he renewed his suit, but she held him back, and she said one +word to him: 'Wait!' To wait meant to hope, and he said he would be +content if she would play and sing to him again. She did so--the same +Tyrolean air she had sang so many times on this evening. Her husband +came in, and the scene ended. In describing it I am drawing from what +Mr. Carew told me afterwards in England. But the incident was not to +end there. Mr. Carew and his wife retired, and he, awakening in the +middle of the night, missed her from his side. He started up, and saw +that her clothes were gone. At the moment of the discovery he heard a +cry, and he ran from the room. He saw his wife approaching him; she +was fully dressed, and she held in her hand the ornamental dagger, +which was stained with blood. There was a smile on her lips, but +although he stood straight in front of her, with a candle in his hand, +she did not appear to see him. She passed by without a word or look of +recognition. He followed her to their bedroom, and there she laid the +dagger aside, undressed, and went to bed. She had been all the time +fast asleep. When she was abed he looked at the blood-stains on the +dagger; there was no wound upon her; from whom came the blood? From +whence the cry? The direction from which his wife had come was that of +the room occupied by his friend. He went there, and found his guest +just reviving from a state of insensibility caused by a stab in his +breast while he was asleep. Mr. Carew could form but one conclusion, +and his sole aim now was that the matter should be kept quiet. In this +he succeeded, having invented a story which his friend professed to +believe, and into which Mrs. Carew's name was not introduced. It +suited Mr. Carew's friend not to dispute the invented story; his wound +was not very serious, and he subsequently repaid the injury by +beggaring the man who had reposed entire confidence in him, and whose +wife he had attempted to lead to her ruin. Mr. Carew could not +immediately question his wife, for the next morning she was +dangerously ill. The ordinary doctors who were called in did not +appear to understand the case, and eventually Mr. Carew consulted a +foreign specialist of renown, who informed him that there was insanity +in his wife's blood, and that it would most likely assume a phase in +which there would be danger to those about her. This alarmed Mr. +Carew, not for his own sake, but for his wife's. There was a law in +that part of the country, which, put in force, would have removed Mrs. +Carew from his care, and he made haste for England, where he would +feel safe. Thus far in his wife's illness no dangerous symptoms were +visible, and he flattered himself into the belief that the foreign +doctor was wrong in the opinion he had given. The most marked +characteristic of the disease manifested itself in a harmless fashion, +being simply a sentimental passion for the Tyrolean air Mrs. Carew had +sung so many times on the night when the hidden seed of insanity began +to grow. Under these conditions Gabriel Carew was born. She insisted +upon nursing the child, which, had I been in their service at the +time, I should not have allowed. When Gabriel was two years of age, +the dangerous symptoms of which the foreign doctor had warned Mr. +Carew began to manifest themselves, and I was engaged as nurse. Mr. +Carew had lost his fortune then, but he was not entirely without +means, the largest portion of which was spent upon his wife. He paid +me liberally, his one desire in life being to keep the skeleton of his +home concealed, not only from the world, but from the knowledge of his +son. He thought that, growing up in ignorance of his mother's +condition, Gabriel might escape the contagion. I thought differently, +but we had no discussions on the subject. He had engaged me to perform +a certain duty, and I performed it--there it ended. I had nothing to +do with consequences. After Mr. Carew took possession of Rosemullion +his wife became worse; there were weeks together when no person but I +could approach her with safety. I had perfect control over her. She +was obedient, through fear, to my lightest word. It was certainly +merciful that the sad secret, having been so long concealed from +Gabriel, should remain so. If mischief were done, it was not now to be +averted. This is the explanation of Gabriel Carew's lonely boyhood +life, and it will possibly help to explain any strange peculiarities +you may have observed in him. I do not consider I have violated the +second promise I gave to his father--that I would not divulge without +powerful cause the secret of Gabriel Carew's unhappy inheritance. +There seems to me here to be cause sufficient for secrecy not to be +any longer observed. My tongue being now unsealed, I am ready to reply +to any questions you may ask." + + + + + XVI. + + +Mrs. Fortress's statement made everything clear to me, and also marked +out for me a clear path of duty. Knowing what I now knew, it would +have been an act of monstrous wickedness to allow Reginald to marry +Mildred. Never could I hope to be forgiven did I not prevent the +union. Better that my son should live a life of unhappiness through +all his days than enter into a contract which would doom the unborn to +madness--perhaps to crime. It was not only an offence against man, it +was an offence against God. The task before me was difficult, I knew; +but I must face it bravely and without flinching. Hearts would be +broken in the struggle--well, better that than the awful consequences +which would follow such a marriage. My own heart bled as I +contemplated what must occur during the next few weeks. + +Thus did I excitedly reason with myself in the first heat of the +revelation. When I became cooler I saw more clearly the difficulties +in my way. What evidence had I to produce? That of an old woman who +had given me certain information--which tallied with my own +suspicions--for a large sum of money. A cunning woman, to supply +me with what she saw I wished. Cunning from the first. Paid +liberally--nay, extravagantly--always, according to her own +confession. Her one single motive in the matter from first to +last--money. Was it likely, being in service so temptingly +remunerative, that she should not adopt every cunning means to retain +it? There was not only the immediate pay, but the prospect of a reward +which would make her comfortable for life. She had so man[oe]uvred +that she gained this reward. During the lifetime of Gabriel Carew's +mother Mrs. Fortress held supreme power over her. Her son was only +allowed to see her a few minutes at a time at intervals of weeks. Even +her husband, at the bidding of this clever woman, was denied +admittance to his wife's chamber. What difficulty was there, in those +days and weeks of seclusion, to so oppress, irritate, and torture the +poor patient as to compel her to put on the semblance of madness--to +drive her into it indeed? Such cases were not unknown. Even now, from +time to time, the public heart is stirred by a sudden revelation of +such atrocities. + +These were cogent arguments which I raised against myself. With myself +in my son's place I should confidently advance them, and should laugh +to scorn the weak opposition which would bar my way to happiness. I +sighed as I thought. The obstacles in my way were every moment growing +more formidable. + +These were not the only arguments against myself which occurred to me. +There was Mrs. Fortress's conduct when she left Rosemullion after the +death of her mistress. Gabriel Carew had made a pitiful appeal to her. +How had she met him? By assuming a mysterious air, indicating that she +had the key to a secret in which he was vitally interested, but that +she did not intend to give it to him. Why had she done this? Who could +doubt the answer to such a question? It was necessary to the _rôle_ +she had adopted. Any other course would have led to an exposure of her +vile scheme. There was the legacy which Mr. Carew left her in his +will. Were the real truth known she might be deprived of it. +Therefore, the assumption of mystery in her last interview with +Gabriel Carew. A cunning woman indeed. + +Against evidence so flimsy there was a heavy weight of testimony. Was +not Gabriel Carew a loving husband and father? No person could dispute +it. He loved his wife and child, and they loved him. Was he ever known +to commit a cruel act! Never. Was not his purse ever open to the call +of charity? Innumerable instances that such was so could be adduced. +Could even light acts of rudeness and incivility be laid at his door? +What was the worst that could be said of him? That he was not fond of +society, that he was a recluse. Could not this be said of hundreds of +estimable men, and was it ever put forth as a distinct offence? If he +did not himself go into society, did he prevent his wife and child +from doing so? On the contrary. He encouraged them to seek amusement +which he, a grave man and a student, possibly deemed frivolous. Fond +of books, seeking his greatest pleasures in them, was not this +distinctly in his favour, and did it not prove him to be of a superior +nature to the common herd? The heaviest charge was that which, in +conversation with me, he had brought against himself--that on the +approach of night his spirits became gloomy. Slight grounds indeed for +so serious an accusation as insanity. Madmen were proverbially +cunning. Gabriel Carew was the soul of frankness, himself opening up +discussions which would tell against him were he not mentally and +physically sound and healthy. I began to despair. + +These reflections did not all pass through my mind in the silence +which followed the conclusion of Mrs. Fortress's statement. They are +the summing-up of my thoughts at that time and during my homeward +journey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fortress was waiting patiently for me to put +any questions which might occur to me. + +"Beyond yourself, Mrs. Fortress," I said, "and your master and +mistress, was there no person cognisant with Mrs. Carew's condition?" + +"None, sir, with the exception of the foreign doctor." + +"Can you tell me his name?" + +"I do not know it, but a doctor of his learning would not have been a +young man when Mr. Carew consulted him, and it is hardly likely he +would be now living." + +"True," I said. + +"Besides," she added, "his experience of Mrs. Carew could have been +but slight. Almost immediately after he gave Mr. Carew his opinion of +my mistress, they left for England, as I have told you." + +"Yes," I remarked, "and he may, after all, have been mistaken." + +She shrank a little, I fancied, but she said firmly, "He may have +been, I was not." + +"I am not doubting you, Mrs. Fortress," I said. + +She interposed here by saying, "It is immaterial whether you are or +not. The facts are as I have stated them." + +"I understand, of course, that you have spoken honestly, but is it not +possible you may have judged wrongly?" + +"I cannot admit it, sir," she replied with calm dignity. "It is not +possible." + +Certainly she maintained her ground. I continued my inquiry. + +"Before Mr. Carew came into his second fortune he lived humbly in +London?" + +"Yes; in poor lodgings." + +"Did the house contain other lodgers?" + +"Yes." + +"And did not any of them suspect or discover the mystery so close to +them?" + +"In my belief not another person in the house had any suspicion." + +"You lived for many years in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Did not Mrs. Carew have a medical adviser?" + +"A doctor called and saw her from time to time." + +"Was he not aware of her condition?" + +"He was not. His visits were a mere matter of form, and he frequently +called at the house without seeing my mistress." + +"By whose directions was she denied to him?" + +"By mine. It was part of my duty to preserve my master's secret." + +"I am sure you did your duty, Mrs. Fortress." + +Her lip curled. She did not thank me. + +"Did this doctor ever see Mrs. Carew alone?" + +"Never. I took care always to be present, and I always prepared my +mistress for his visits, warning her to be careful." + +"Did she never rebel?" + +"With respect to the doctor, never. I had my difficult days with her, +but that was my business, and mine alone." + +"He must have been a careful and conscientious man," I said somewhat +sarcastically. + +She capped me by replying, "His accounts were regularly paid. Perhaps +that was sufficient for him." + +"Perhaps," I said, and I could not avoid a smile, though I was really +indignant. "Can you tell me anything more to guide me? Do you think it +was Mr. Carew's intention to keep his son in complete ignorance of +this misfortune, even after the death of your mistress?" + +"I am not positive. My master died during a visit to Wales, while my +mistress was still living. It is probable, had he survived his wife, +that he would have spoken to his son on the subject. I cannot say for +certain, but, from certain words he once used I believe he left some +record behind him." + +This suggestion aroused me. + +"Some written record?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"Where would he have deposited it?" + +"In Rosemullion my master had his private room, into which no one was +allowed to enter. There are large safes built in the walls of that +room. If the record I believe my master made is found anywhere, it +will be in that room. I have nothing more to say, sir. I have told you +all I know. Whether you believe me or not does not concern me. When +you see Mr. Gabriel, sir, give him my humble duty." + + + + + XVII. + + +I returned to Rosemullion in a very disturbed frame of mind. The +nearer I approached the abode of mystery the stronger grew my doubts +of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement. All she had related was in +such complete accordance with a cunningly carried out scheme, whereby +the innocent were made to suffer, and she--the plotter--made +comfortable for life, that I accused myself for my egregious folly in +giving her story credence, and listening to it patiently. It was, +however, impossible to allow the matter to stand as Mrs. Fortress had +left it. Some further inquiry must take place, and my doubts cleared +up before I would give my consent to the union of my son with Gabriel +Carew's daughter. I did not dare to run a risk so great until my mind +was fairly at ease. It was a relief to me when I reached my home that +Reginald was not there to greet me. I knew what the tenor of his +conversation would be, and I wished to avoid it. He had, indeed, but +one theme: Mildred; his heart and soul were meshed in his absorbing +love for the fair girl to whom there was a likelihood of a most +terrible inheritance having been transmitted. + +I proceeded without delay to Rosemullion, and the first person who +greeted me on the threshold was Mrs. Carew. She expressed her +satisfaction at my return, and upon my inquiring for her husband, said +that he was in his study, but that before I saw him she wished to have +a few private words with me. It was then that I noted signs of trouble +in her face. She led me to the apartment which Gabriel Carew had +described as a sanctuary of rest, and at her bidding I sat down and +awaited the communication she desired to make to me. + +She commenced by saying that her husband had such complete confidence +in me and she such faith in my wisdom, that, having a weight at her +heart which was sorely disturbing her, she had resolved to ask my +advice, as a friend upon whom she could rely. I replied that her faith +and her husband's confidence were not misplaced, and that it was my +earnest wish to assist her if it lay in my power. + +"It is not without my husband's permission," she said, "that I am +speaking to you now. He knows that I am uneasy about him, and he +himself suggested that I should consult you upon your return from +Cornwall." + +I was startled at learning that she was not ignorant of my visit to +Mrs. Fortress; I imagined that the affair was entirely between me and +Mr. Carew. I asked her if she was acquainted with the precise object +of my visit. + +"No," she replied; "only that you have been on a visit to a nurse who +was in the service of my husband's family before the death of his +parents. I did not seek for further information, and my husband did +not volunteer any. Neither is he acquainted with the details of the +matter I am about to open to you. I thought it best to keep it from +him until I obtained counsel from a near and dear friend." + +I inclined my head, and she continued: + +"My husband informs me that he has related to you the fullest +particulars of his life, and that he has unbosomed himself to you with +an unreserved confidence, such as no other person in the world has +been able to inspire." + +"It is true," I said, "and I hold his confidence sacred, to be used +only for our good." + +"And for the good of our children," she said. + +"Yes," I said, conscious of a strange note in my voice as I repeated +the words, "and for the good of our children." + +She detected the unusual note, gazed steadily at me for a moment, and +proceeded, without commenting upon it. + +"Knowing so much, you are familiar with my husband's nightly +wanderings in the woods when he resided here with his parents?" + +"Yes." + +"He was aware of these nocturnal rambles?" she said. "He undertook +them consciously?" + +"Certainly." + +"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?" + +"Always," I replied, surprised at the question. + +"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with +respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept +anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to +save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had +concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. +Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their +impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. +'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless +life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As +Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it." + +"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange +note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend." + +"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had +any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when +he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times +and under certain circumstances. He did so last night." + +"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired. + +"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason +for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would +have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so +disturbed me that I can no longer be silent." + +My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. +Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, +of his mother's disease. + +"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for +some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were +these circumstances of a special nature?" + +"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which +he feared danger." + +"To himself?" + +"I think not. To me and Mildred. I recall three occasions, which will +supply you with an index to the whole. Once there were reports in the +papers of a number of burglaries being committed in the neighbourhood, +accompanied by deeds of violence. The burglars--there were three, as +was subsequently proved--were at liberty, and the efforts made to +discover and arrest them met with no success for several weeks. During +that period my husband rose regularly every night from bed, dressed +himself, and went out of the house, always returning, dressed as he +left the room. On one of these occasions I followed and watched him, +and discovered that his aim was to guard us from danger. He remained +in the grounds around the house, holding a pistol. His actions were +those of an earnest, watchful guardian, and were guided by the most +singular caution. Sometimes he would hide behind a tree, or crouch +down, concealed from view. When he was satisfied that there was no +longer any danger, he returned to the house, stepping very softly, and +examining the fastenings of the doors and windows." + +"Did he rise in the morning with the appearance of a man who had +passed a disturbed night?" + +"No; he was always cheerful, and appeared to be quite refreshed by +what he believed to be a good night's rest. At length, when the +burglars were arrested he left the house no more for many months, +until a workman whom he had employed, and whom he had reason to +discharge, uttered threats against us. Then he again commenced his +nightly watch, which did not cease until he received information that +the man had left the country. After that he enjoyed a long period of +repose. The third occasion was when there was a report of the escape +of a dangerous madman from a lunatic asylum three or four miles from +Rosemullion. Until this man was once more in safe custody, my husband +never missed a night's watch during his sleep. You will gather from +this explanation that he was always actuated by a good motive--to +guard and protect those whom he loves." + +"That seems clear," I said, "and what you have related is especially +interesting to me as a specialist, apart from my sincere friendship +for you and yours." + +"As a specialist!" she exclaimed. "Of what kind?" + +Fortunately I arrested myself in time. The words which immediately +suggested themselves to me in reply, remained unspoken. The truth +would have been too great a shock to this sweet lady. + +"As one deeply interested," I answered, with an assuring smile, "in +psychological mysteries. What occurred yesterday to excite Mr. Carew?" + +"He and I had been out riding. Upon our return one of our gardeners +informed my husband that a man had been seen lurking about the +grounds. The story told by the gardener is this: The stranger, a +foreigner, although he spoke good English, did not wait to be accosted +by the gardener, but himself opened a conversation. He asked if this +was Rosemullion. Yes. Did a family of the name of Carew live here? +Yes. Was Mrs. Carew alive? Yes. Was Mr. Carew alive? Yes. Did they +have any family? Yes, a daughter. What was her name? Miss Mildred. +Could he see Mrs. Carew? Mrs. Carew was out driving. When would I +return, and was there any possibility of the stranger seeing me alone? +The gardener could not say. It was not I, but my husband who put these +questions to the gardener. Then Mr. Carew asked sternly what was the +bribe that induced the gardener to answer the inquiries of a stranger, +and he forced the truth from him. The stranger had given the gardener +a foreign coin, which my husband insisted upon seeing. It was a piece +of French money. This part of the affair is completed by the admission +of the gardener that the stranger was apparently in poverty, as his +poor clothes betokened--and yet he had given the gardener money to +answer his questions! When the gardener was gone my husband said that +the circumstance was very suspicious, and I thought so myself; that +the stranger had some bad motive in thus intruding upon private +property, and that he would go in search of him. I asked to be allowed +to accompany him, and after a slight hesitation he consented, saying +if the stranger came with innocent intent and we met him, that he +could say what he had to say to me in my husband's presence. We +strolled all round the grounds of Rosemullion, but saw no stranger. +Then my husband said he would go into the woods, and that I had better +leave him; but I, fearing I knew not what, begged to be allowed to +remain with him. Together we went into the woods, and for a long while +met no person answering the description given by the gardener; but +after a while we saw a stranger a few yards in front of us. It +happened that I was a little ahead of my husband at that moment, and +the stranger, turning and seeing me, thought that I was alone. He was +about to hasten towards me when my husband stepped to my side. Without +hesitation the stranger abruptly turned from us, and, plunging into +the woods, was immediately lost to view." + +Something in Mrs. Carew's manner at this point--which I should find it +difficult to explain--some premonition that this man she called a +stranger was really not so to her--caused me to ask, + +"You saw his face?" + +"Yes." And at this answer, tremblingly spoken, my premonition became a +certainty. + +"You recognised it?" + +"Unless I am much mistaken--and with all my heart I pray to heaven I +may be!--it was a face once familiar to me." + +It was not now for me to pursue the subject; it was for her to confide +freely in me, if such was her desire. There was a silence of a few +moments before she resumed: + +"My husband, having hidden nothing from you, has told you all that +occurred in my dear native village, Nerac, before we were married?" + +"He has told me all, I believe," I said. + +"Of my beloved parents--of friends once dear to me--Eric, murdered, +and the unhappy Emilius?" + +"I am acquainted with all the particulars of that tragic event." + +"Sadly changed, worn, haggard, and travel-stained, in the man we met +in the forest I recognised Emilius." + + + + + XVIII. + + +This, indeed, was startling news. Emilius alive, his term of +imprisonment over, or he an escaped convict, seeking an interview with +Mrs. Carew, the wife of the man whom he regarded as his bitterest +enemy! To what was this to lead?--in what way was it to end? + +"Did Mr. Carew recognise him?" I asked. + +"I cannot tell you," replied Mrs. Carew. "Not a word passed between us +respecting him. _I_ did not dare to speak. It would but have been to +reopen old wounds, and after all I may have been mistaken. Not for me +to bring back to my husband the memories of a past in which he was so +cruelly misjudged. Besides, this was the one and only subject upon +which my husband and I were not in harmony. He most firmly believed +and believes in Emilius's guilt; I as firmly believed and believe in +his innocence. The years that have flown have not softened my +husband's judgment nor hardened mine; and until this hour the name of +Emilius has never passed my lips since we settled in Rosemullion. No, +it was not for me to utter it in my husband s presence; it was not for +me to bring pain to his kind heart. I said nothing, nor did my +husband, nor did he attempt to follow the stranger. In silence we +walked back to the house, and the evening passed as usual. Reginald +came, and we had music and conversation. On the part of Mildred and +your son converse was cheerful and unconstrained, and I also strove to +be cheerful. I was so far successful as to deceive the children, but +my husband was not so easily blinded. And yet he made no allusion to +the subject which engrossed my thoughts, and weighed like a dark cloud +upon my heart. The hour grew late, and I sent Reginald home. Young +people in love have always to be reminded. Then my husband and I +retired to rest. Troubled as I was, sleep was long in coming to me, +but at length Nature was merciful, and I sank into slumber. I awoke at +the soft chiming of our silver clock, proclaiming the hour of two. +Never do I remember being awoke by the chiming of this clock, so low +and sweet is it; and that I should awake now as it struck two may have +been simply a coincidence. I sat up in bed. I was alone. My husband +was not in the room; his clothes were gone, and he had doubtless gone +out fully dressed. In great fear I rose and dressed, with the +intention of following him, but when I tried the door I found it had +been locked on the outside. Powerless to do anything but wait, I sat, +trembling, till daylight began to peep in at the windows. Then I heard +my husband's footsteps in the passage, which would not have reached my +ears had not my senses been preternaturally sharpened. He trod softly, +and turned the key in the door very gently in order not to disturb me. +He entered the room, and I almost fainted as I saw in his hand the +bright blade of an ancient dagger which usually lay upon his study +table. His face was turned towards me, his eyes were open, but he did +not see me. He took from his pocket a sheath, in which he placed the +dagger, and then he undressed. Before he lay down to that more +healthful sleep in which his mind would be at rest, he listened two or +three times at the locked door, and going to the window, drew the +blind a little aside and looked from the window. Then he stretched +himself in bed, and his eyes closed. Not by the least sign did he show +any consciousness of the fact that I was standing, dressed, in the +room, and that we were often face to face. I soon retired to bed, but +I slept no more. I lay awake, listening to my husband's breathing, +praying for the hour to arrive at which we generally rose for the +day--praying for that, praying that the night would not come again, +praying for a friend to counsel me. It were vain for me to disguise +from you that I am in dread of what may happen should my husband and +Emilius meet. And there is still something more----" + +I waited, but she left the sentence uncompleted. Startled as I was by +what I had heard, I was even more startled to see this good and gentle +woman suddenly cover her face with her hands, and burst into a passion +of tears. I turned from her in commiseration, powerless to relieve or +console her. Even had I words at command, it was better that her grief +should be allowed to spend itself naturally. When she had recovered, I +asked, + +"Has Mr. Carew made any reference to what passed in the night?" + +"Not any," she replied. + +"Did you?" + +"I simply asked him if he had slept well, and he answered 'Yes,' and +that his sleep had been dreamless." + +"Will you pardon me for the question whether you believe that to be +really so--whether his answer to your solicitous inquiry was not +prompted by his desire not to trouble or distress you?" + +"I am certain," said Mrs. Carew, "that my husband said what he +believes to be true. Dear friend, what am I to do?" + +She seized my hand, and clung to it as though to me, and to me alone, +could she look for help in her sad position. + +"Does Mildred know anything, suspect anything?" I asked. + +What was the meaning of the timid, frightened, helpless look in her +eyes at the mention of Mildred's name? No mental efforts of mine could +fathom it. + +"Nothing," she replied, and then seemed to drift, against her will as +it were, into distressful thought. I devoted a few moments to +consideration, and when I spoke again had resolved upon a course of +action. + +"Would you wish me to become your guest for a few days?" I asked. + +"Ah, if you would!" she exclaimed. + +"I shall be willing if Mr. Carew has no objection. I will see him +presently and ascertain. But first I have a little scheme to carry out +which I think advisable for all our sakes." + +I asked her if I could write a letter in her room, and despatch it at +once to my house, and she opened her desk for me. My letter was to my +son Reginald, and the effect of it was to secure his absence from +Rosemullion during my stay in Mr. Carew's house. There was really a +matter of business which Reginald could attend to, and which rendered +it necessary for him to take his immediate departure for London. When +my letter was written, I explained its purport to Mrs. Carew, and she +acquiesced in the wisdom of my plan. She herself added a few words to +the letter, to the effect that she regretted not being able to see him +before he left, and that Mildred was well and sent her love. She gave +me a flower, and asked me to enclose it in the envelope. + +"He will think it comes from Mildred," she said, "and it will send him +away happy. It is an innocent deceit." + +The letter was despatched, and with a few assuring words to the sweet +woman, I went to her husband's study. + + + + + XIX. + + +I observed a change in him. Something of his inner life was reflected +in his face, the expression upon which was stern and moody. It +softened a little when he shook me by the hand. I asked him if he was +well, and he answered yes, but troubled by a strange presentiment of +evil. He remarked that he was on the eve of momentous circumstances in +his life which boded ill. I did not encourage him to indulge in this +vein, but proceeded to relate as much of my interview with Mrs. +Fortress as I deemed it wise and necessary to impart. He listened to +me patiently and reflectively, and when I had finished, said: + +"You have given me food for reflection. I have in you a confidence so +perfect that I place myself unreservedly in your hands. I will be +guided completely by your counsels; my confidence in myself is much +shaken. What do you advise?" + +"This is the study," I said, "which your father used to occupy?" + +"It is," he replied; "and no person was allowed to enter it without +his permission." + +"After his death you searched in it for his private papers?" + +"I did, and found very little to satisfy me. I hoped to discover +something which would throw light upon the strange habits of our life +and home. I was disappointed." + +At my request he showed me the method by which the safe was opened, +and the ingenuity of the device caused me to wonder that he had found +nothing of importance within its walls. I was, however, convinced that +there was in the study some clue to the mystery of Carew's boyhood's +home--although I could not help admitting to myself that it needed but +faith in Mrs. Fortress's statement to arrive at a correct solution. +But I required further evidence, and I resolved to search for it. + +"As you have placed yourself in my hands," I said, "you will not +object to comply with two or three slight requests." + +"There is little you can ask," was his response, "that I am not ready +to accede to." + +"Invite me to remain here as your guest for a few days." + +"I do." + +"Allow me to occupy this room alone until I retire to bed." + +"Willingly." + +"And promise me that you will not leave the house without first +acquainting me of your intention." + +"I promise." + +A little while afterwards he left me to myself, saying that if I +wished to see him I should find him with his wife. When he revealed to +me the secret method by which the safe was worked, he did not close +the panel; it remained open for my inspection, and I now made an +examination of the interior without finding so much as a scrap of +paper. This was as I expected; if Gabriel Carew's father left +documents behind him, they must be searched for elsewhere. A careful +study of the room led me to the conclusion that the massive +writing-table was the most likely depository. The working of the safe +was a process much too tedious for a man who wished for easy access to +his papers; the writing-table offered the means of this, and I turned +my attention to it. I do not wish to be prolix, and I therefore omit a +description of the painfully careful examination of every point in +this massive piece of furniture. Suffice it that, after at least an +hour's search, my endeavours were rewarded. In one of the legs of the +table on the inner side, quite undiscoverable without a light, I felt +a depression just large enough to receive the ball of my thumb. I +pressed hard, and although there was no immediate result, I fancied I +detected a slight yielding, such as might occur when pressing upon a +firm spring which had been disused for many years. I pressed harder, +with all my strength, and I suddenly heard a sharp click. I found that +this proceeded from the skirting of oak immediately above the leg I +was manipulating. I had carefully examined the skirting all round the +table without being able to discover any signs of a drawer. Now, +however, one had started forward, and I had no difficulty in pulling +it open. My heart beat more quickly as I drew from it a manuscript +book and a few loose sheets of foolscap paper. The writing was large +and plain; ink of such a quality had been used that the lapse of years +had had but a slight effect upon it. In less than a minute I satisfied +myself that the handwriting was that of Gabriel Carew's father. + +The book first. I read it attentively through. It was a record of the +circumstances of the married life of Gabriel Carew's parents, and such +of it as bore upon Mrs. Fortress's statement confirmed its truth in +every particular. Before I came to the end of this record I heard +Gabriel Carew calling to me outside. I hastily concealed the book and +papers, and went to the door. + +"I would not come upon you unawares," he said, "but it has occurred to +me that to leave you even partially in the dark would not be +ingenuous, and might frustrate the end we both have in view. Before I +was married I wrote what may be regarded as a history of my life up to +that period. There are in it no reservations or concealments of any +kind whatever. Not alone my outer but my inner life is laid bare +therein; it is an absolutely faithful and truthful record. Since I +wrote the last words of this personal history I have not glanced at +it. I hand it now to you with one stipulation. So long as I am alive +you will not reveal what I have written. Should I die before you I +leave it to your discretion to deal with it as you please. Another +thing. I ought to more frankly explain why I put you in possession of +secrets which no man, unless under unusual and extraordinary +circumstances, would impart to another. I have been all my life +animated by a strong spirit of justice to others as well as to myself. +By this inclusion of myself I mean that I should be as ready to +condemn myself and to mete out to myself a penalty I may consciously +or unconsciously have incurred as I would to any ordinary person. I am +also animated by a sincere and devoted love for my wife and child. +Were I asked to express the dearest wish of my heart I should answer, +the wish for their happiness. But even this must not be purchased at +the expense of a possible wrong to another human being. There exists +between your son and my daughter an affection which has been allowed +to ripen into love. Whether we have been wise time will prove. You +have, equally with myself, the welfare of your child at heart. You +have doubts; let them be fully resolved. I need say no more than that +I am convinced that these feeble words of mine--which to strangers +would be inexplicable--will help us to understand each other." + +He left me alone once more, not waiting for me to speak, and I felt +for him as deep a sentiment of pity and admiration as had ever been +excited within me. He had also magnetised me into sharing his belief +that momentous circumstances were about to occur in his life which +would affect mine and my son's. It could not be otherwise in the light +of the love which Reginald bore for Mildred. + +I did not resume the perusal of the record made by Carew's father; I +held my curiosity in check both as regards that and what was written +on the two sheets of foolscap paper. Commencing to read the personal +history which Gabriel Carew had composed, I became so fascinated by it +that I could not leave it. Mrs. Carew sent to ask me to join them at +dinner, but I begged to be excused, and wine and food were brought to +me in the study. I remained there undisturbed, engrossed in Gabriel +Carew's narrative, and it was late in the night when I reached the +end. Then with feelings which it is impossible for me to describe, I +turned to the record made by Carew's father, and finished it. No +opinions were therein expressed; there was no indulgence in theory or +speculation; it was a simple statement of fact. The conclusions +arrived at by Carew's father were set down on the sheets of foolscap, +which next claimed my attention. They ran as follows:-- + + + + + XX. + + +"It is my intention, as an act of justice, before I die, to make my +son Gabriel acquainted with the mystery of my married life. It is due +to him and to myself that he should not pass his life in ignorance of +the sad events and circumstances which shadowed his home. The journal +which I have written, and in which he will find a record of facts, +will put him in possession of the melancholy circumstances of his +parents' lives. Without additional words from me he would understand +the explanation I have given, but something more is necessary from me +to him. + +"When I married his mother I had no knowledge that there was in her +blood an inherited disease. Had I suspected it I should not have +married her. It would have been a transgression against the laws of +God and man. To bring into the world human beings who are not +responsible for their actions, and who are driven to crime by the +promptings of a demoniac force born within them and growing stronger +with their own growth to strong manhood, is to be the creator of a +race of monsters. It matters not how fair and beautiful the outside +may be; simply to think of the evil forces sleeping within, urging to +sin and crime and cruelty, is sufficient to make a just man shudder. +Madness assumes many phases, but not one more dreadful than the phase +in which it presented itself in my wife's nature. Her conscious, +waking life was a life of gentleness and kindness; her unconscious, +sleeping life, but for the restraints I placed upon her, would have +been a life of crime. The fault was not hers, but it fell to her lot +to bear the burden of her curse. I, at least, by rendering her +existence a misery to herself and those around her, kept her free from +crime. One she committed before my eyes were opened, but its +consequences were not fatal. To this hour she does not know that she +attempted the life of a human being, and it is possible, because of my +treatment of her, that she thinks of me as a monster of cruelty. It is +for me to bear this burden, in addition to others which have come to +me unaware. I do not bemoan, but my life might have been bright and +honoured had I not married my wife. The one consolation I have is that +I have endeavoured to perform my duty. My son Gabriel must perform +his, though his heart bleed in its performance. Should the worst +befall, all that I can do is to implore his forgiveness for having +been the cause of his living. There have been times when I have +debated with myself whether it would not be the more merciful course +to put him out of the world, but I have never had the courage to +execute the sentence which my sense of stern justice dictated. There +is, however, one chance in life for him, although I most solemnly +adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with that of an +innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck the +sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror which +blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; not one +must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most +solemnly upon him; if he violate it he will be an incredible +monster--as I should have been had I married his mother knowing what +taint was in her blood. For his guidance I may say that I have +consulted the most eminent authorities in Europe, and this is their +verdict. Let him pay careful heed to it, for in my judgment it is +incontrovertible. + +"Reference to my journal will show him that the first visible +manifestation of his mother's disease was exhibited about five months +before he was born. We were then inhabiting a house in Switzerland, +and on the night her fatal inheritance took active shape and form we +had been entertaining a party of friends--one of whom was a foul +villain--and my wife had been singing many times a Tyrolean air of +which she was passionately fond. I copy the music of the air here, +praying to God that my son may not be familiar with it." + +(Here followed a few bars of music, which I had no doubt formed the +air to which Mrs. Fortress had referred in her statement, and mention +of which will also be found in the record of his life made by Gabriel +Carew.) + +"After the almost tragic events of that night my wife was continually +singing this air; I have heard her hum it in her sleep. When my son +was born she suckled the child--an error I deeply deplore. The +physicians I consulted are of one opinion. If my son Gabriel inherits +in its worst form his mother's disease, the ghost of this air will +haunt him from time to time. It may not be so clear to his senses that +he could sing it aloud, but he would indubitably recognise it if he +heard it by accident. It is for a test that I copy the music; it is +for my son to apply it. Should the air be entirely unfamiliar to him, +should it fail to recall any sensations through which he has passed, +the inheritance transmitted to him by his mother--if it ever assume +practical shape--will exhibit itself in a milder and less ruthless +form. The physicians aver that at some time or other, if Gabriel live +long, some such manifestation will most surely take place, and that if +it occur in its worst phase, the key-note to the occurrence may be +found in the affections. + +"This is as much as I can at present find strength to set down. I +shall take an opportunity to confer with my son upon this gloomy +matter, but I have a reluctance to approach the subject personally +with him during the lifetime of his mother. It will need an almost +superhuman courage on my part to speak of such a matter to my own son, +but I must nerve my soul to the task. If he reproach me, if he curse +me, I must bear it humbly. Once more I implore his forgiveness." + + + + + XXI. + + +The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal +revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me +as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns. +Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's +daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable. + +The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the +chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I +been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I +heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one +creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study +door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the +caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The +moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door +Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were +open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so +intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers +were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements. +In his hand he held a dagger. + +His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed +to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He +paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he +crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his +unhappy inheritance. + +My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded +danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another +occurrence almost as startling. + +With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my +side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a +distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So +pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that +I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her. + +"You saw him?" she said. + +"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside." + +He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within, +had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of +his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every +corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was +intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search, +he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to +the front door of the house. + +"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew. + +I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so +in your place." + +"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a +man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!" + +"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the +sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door. +There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set +loose. What do you fear?" + +"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly +and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr. +Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited. +The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling +about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to +discover a means of entering it when we were asleep." + +"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the +information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius. + +To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he +is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a +fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out." + +"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?" + +"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he +is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is +no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go +down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my +sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!" + +She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may +be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of +exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak. + +"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to +serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all +to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see +before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his +sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain +at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?" + +She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened +the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no +moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he +took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left +the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been +unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from +the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone, +and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close +itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went +out into the open. + +I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special +precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on +his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense +excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was +impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to +learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I +contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me +that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not +stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision, +avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in +the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of +the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did +not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his +steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that +upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times +pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly +in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen +Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart, +and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his +bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of +this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking +moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with +the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind +the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had +consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take +its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was +demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home; +the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and +he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them, +animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his +enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had +taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent +maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice +had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a +terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a +horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him +nothing but compassion. + +For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his +foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were +present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however, +he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high, +was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing +his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed, +and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely +convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade +of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was +something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the +shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these +occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if +needed, and all would have been over. + +At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the +safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house. + +Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him, +but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a +dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to +precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in +the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest +space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and +closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned, +heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard +the chain put up. Then silence. + +What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into +the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought +exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for +daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the +thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read +loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which +Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden +emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at +the truth. + +"You are Emilius," I said. + +"I am Emilius," was his reply. + + + + + XXII. + + +Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. He +had been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense of +self-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness. +He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmerited +suffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but it +had not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other men +who have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habits +foreign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid upon +him, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke him +gentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purpose +from which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him to +Rosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and his +family, it was necessary that I should learn its nature. + +"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?" + +"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, from +gentleman to gentleman." + +His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if I +was mocking him. + +"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend in +human form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I lay +concealed, I supposed you were both in league against me." + +"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is truly +my wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right." + +"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has not +embittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me to +disbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weaker +course. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, from +which I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass at +the present, but I have still sufficient for two months' dry +bread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal with +you as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension of +human signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know me +and perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helping +hand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offers +itself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once if +your intentions are not honest." + +"I will stay and prove myself," I said. + +"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while that +monster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, has +re-entered his house?" + +"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it, +but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made no +movement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot." + +"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As I +have told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I am +without a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked a +conflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me. +My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, might +with little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that without +scruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here an +errand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settle +with him; but there is something of even greater weight to be +accomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word was +relied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you I +ask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concert +at such an hour?" + +"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not see +me; he was not aware of my presence." + +Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?" + +"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet it +would be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present let +the matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper your +judgment." + +"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The dead +cannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiend +ever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of your +connection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answer +yours freely." + +"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by ties +of affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotless +purity." + +"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love a +brother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation of +innocence and goodness." + +"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now your +pity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge." + +"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, that +brought me here. But you have not completed your explanation." + +"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Love +grew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----" + +"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!" + +He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavy +sobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. I +turned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumed +the conversation. + +"You seem to know the story of my life." + +"I am acquainted with it." + +"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?" + +"Yes." + +"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul and +condemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. I +call Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I be +cursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn from +me, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before you +an innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murderer +lives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother was +not the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac, +whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another man +was murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade suffered +the penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do not +question the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason these +atrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smite +the guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turned +blasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is, +I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like a +man. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which I +cannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping in +the dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, of +all men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale, +for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mystery +which the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extends +even to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster's +guilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter into +my feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of my +imprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. I +could not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Night +after night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to my +murdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayer +was answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as I +assume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brother +Kristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So was +it, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthday +anniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon my +soul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did not +speak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him in +the forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deep +anguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe. +In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to be +not less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and he +knelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towards +him stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, I +beheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shone +upon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fell +intent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother, +but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter a +sound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer, +noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracked beneath his feet; all +nature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed about +to be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours, +until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. He +raised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment he +paused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel, +devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric's +back, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, as +the knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brother +was dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through the +woods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dream +was at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithful +presentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerful +than human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of a +delusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might be +supposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself upon +the murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for another +purpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and to +stain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Having +heard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you have +promised?" + +"I will do my best, if my judgment approves." + +"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs. +Carew--_must!_ There is a matter between us which must be cleared up +before another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand is +not one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from my +lips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She will +understand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me. Will you do this?" + +"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire." + +"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his head +bespoke the gentleman. + +"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?" + +"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on my +guard. Good-night." + +"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it with +his, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself. + +I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers-- +unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my way +to the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room to +meet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered, + +"My husband is there." + +"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius, +forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secret +drawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass the +study on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I did +not dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he is +asleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?" + +"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied. + +"Thank you," she murmured. + +I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table, +with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was Gabriel +Carew, in a profound slumber. + +"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followed +me into the room, "until late in the day." + +"Leave us together," I said. + +She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and the +papers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrasted +with an expression of resolution and content. What this portended I +had yet to learn. + + + + + XXIII. + + +It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered the +promise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirred +from the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I made +a gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had found +in the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplished +without violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind that +he had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he had +formed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intention +of fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room. + +Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements, +and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone I +made her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and I +perceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for an +interview. When I repeated to her Emilius's words, "Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me," she clasped her hands across her eyes, and +remained so for a little while. + +"It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly she +could not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must see +him." + +"When?" I asked. + +"I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time to +reflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care." + +She pointed to the study in which her husband slept. + +"You understand that he is determined to see you before another day +and night have passed?" + +"Yes, I understand." + +"How is Mildred?" + +"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. +She suspects nothing." + +"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough." + +"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her +voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but +knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy +punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting +right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes." + +She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the +study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without +observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of +embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. +I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. +Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it +was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell +asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I +awoke. + +Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes. + +"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly +exhausted." + +"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at +lightness. "Have you been awake long?" + +"For some hours," he replied. + +I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed +the direction of mine, and he nodded gently. + +"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked. + +"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in +occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to +a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. +"Eat," he said; "you must be hungry." + +I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself +drank two glasses. + +"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb +of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which +created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a +devil? Have you finished?" + +"Yes." + +"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not +remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, +torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end." + +"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew +left the house during the time I have slept?" + +"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." +He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here +yesterday, you discovered these?" + +"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to +read." + +"You have read it?" + +"Every word." + +"Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had he +dealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have been +averted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vain +regrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you. +Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to you +last night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolute +frankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I am +animated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lighter +sentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has the +misfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and complete +love. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, and +yet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all." + +I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully, +mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--his +leaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him to +prevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movements +in his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strange +intelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements, +fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, my +discovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into the +study, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I had +found in the secret drawer. + +He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by a +word. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approached +Emilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured the +murder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denote +agitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius's +desire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason for +it? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerful +reason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England for +the special purpose of the interview. + +"I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew, +"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, should +scout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me to +doubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it." + +"How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If you +think of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touch +you." + +"From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "I +became a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether you +believe me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me as +a monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe; +and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone, +but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. My +father wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavoured +to perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was to +enlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to the +nature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have done +what it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not the +courage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of a +pure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease of +insanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in human +beings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task to +find doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside the +sufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own or +any man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as a +lake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am another +being. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to my +door? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the law +is satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward and +say, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, and +he will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You saw +me last night prowling round my house in search of whom? In search of +an enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured the +punishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved to +have committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. So +sensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that even +in my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, no +voice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded, +praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded with +loathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me? +Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroy +them while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It would +be a simple safeguard." + +As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silence +listening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; it +was calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there was +no deviation from this aspect of absolute composure. + +"What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' I +most solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with +that of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck +the sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror +which blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; +not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction +most solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incredible +monster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the written +pages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof how +deeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatal +confession. + +"Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in his +duty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand the +mystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not kill +me? God and man would have applauded the deed." + +Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what he +had to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was I +by this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silence +enabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself. + +"You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house. +Then she has not seen Emilius?" + +"No. She will see him to-morrow." + +"He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquaint +him with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew." + +"Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there will +be no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so many +years. His mission cannot be so urgent." + +"He declares it is." + +"He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, to +denounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is the +joy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from a +pestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is not +content, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You can +assure him of my honesty in this." + +"You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that his +errand was not one of revenge." + +"He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview with +her. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she would +not see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that I +have pronounced judgment upon myself." + +I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decision +there was no gainsaying. + + + + + XXIV. + + +I have omitted to mention that a letter was delivered to me from my +son Reginald. It was written in London, almost immediately upon his +arrival there. There were in it about twenty words in relation to the +business I had entrusted to him, for the purpose of securing his +absence; the remaining three and a half pages were filled with +rhapsodies upon Mildred. It was Mildred, Mildred, nothing and nobody +but Mildred. She was the light of his life, the hope, the joy of it; +nothing else but Mildred was worth living for. Not even I, his old +father, who never thought, who never would think, any sacrifice too +great to make for his son's happiness. I did not complain, and I do +not; it is the way of things, and we old ones must stand aside, and be +humbly grateful that we are allowed to witness the happiness which we +have done our utmost to bring about. Not that this was the case with +Reginald and myself. The duty devolving upon me was to prevent, not to +assist in, the accomplishment of his dearest hopes. How would the lad +take it? Would he look upon me as his enemy? Would he thrust me aside, +and rush wildly to a fate I shuddered even to contemplate? Would not +the example before him serve as a warning? I could not say. The more I +thought of the matter the more disturbed I became. Certainly, he could +not marry Mildred without Carew's consent, and that, I knew, would be +withheld. The true story of her husband's life could not be concealed +from the knowledge of Mrs. Carew; and knowing it, she would not allow +Mildred to wed. If necessary, Mildred herself must be told how +impossible it was that she should ever think of marriage, and she +would refuse my son. And Reginald's heart would be broken! Of that I +was convinced. It would be a blow from which he would never recover. + +These were my reflections as I went out into the grounds of +Rosemullion to seek Emilius. I had not long or far to seek. Near the +copse in which he was concealed the previous night he suddenly +presented himself. + +"I have been looking and waiting for you all day," he said. "Can you +realise the torture I am suffering?" + +I did not answer his question, but gave him an account of what I had +done, and then I conveyed Gabriel Carew's message to him. + +"To wait till to-morrow!" Emilius exclaimed. "He asks, he implores me +to wait till then?" + +"I have told you," I said. "It seems to me not unreasonable." + +"It seems to you--it seems to you!" he repeated, in petulant +excitement; and the next moment begged my pardon for speaking so to +me, who had proved myself his friend. "But you do not know this +fiend--you do not know of what he is capable! You believe what I have +told you of the eternal wrong he has inflicted upon me--a wrong for +which he can never hope to be forgiven in this world or the next. You +believe it, and yet you say he is justified in asking me to wait till +he has had time to carry out the secret design he has formed to +prevent me from obtaining justice! You believe it, and yet you justify +him! O God in Heaven! Is there, has there ever been, justice on earth? +And I am to wait, who have waited for twenty years, who have suffered +unjustly for twenty years! And I am to stand aside while he completes +his work and dashes the cup of happiness from my lips! No! Again and +again, no! This night is my limit. Before it passes I will see Mrs. +Carew, and she shall right me. You can tell this to the monster yonder +who has juggled you so successfully." + +I endeavoured to argue, to reason with him, but he would not listen to +me. So I left him, his last words being that nothing on earth should +move him from his resolve. + + + + + XXV. + + +The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me +with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the +little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with +her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest. + +Mrs. Carew was alone. + +"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not +disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to +come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?" + +"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you +to-night." + +"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience +till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for +it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it +should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been +praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our +courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr. +Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to +church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do +not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed +when you left him?" + +"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he +did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be +the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty +to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence." + +"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me +voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good. +He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never +arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way +discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night +and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor +Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done +that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it +not?" + +"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely +knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange +one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft +air blowing, and the night is fine." + +"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?" + +"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject. + +She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the +air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is +always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should +impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be +so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he +will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night +you will counsel, you will advise me?" + +"Command me entirely," I said. + +"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be +quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and +is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I +winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my +acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a +marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused +Mrs. Carew to call "Come in." + +A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress. + +"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked. + +"Yes, madam," replied the servant. + +"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys." + +When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she +wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied +her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and +peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his +features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some +fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone +through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before +realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips, +the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual +power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or +wavering. He was a man capable of a great career. + +"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind +was the most comprehensive he had ever met with." + +She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing +him. We trod gently out of the room. + +"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's +room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door. + +"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly. + +"No, mamma. I shall be, soon." + +"Don't remain up too long, my dear." + +"No, mamma." + +"Good night, Mildred." + +"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?" + +"Yes, child!" + +"I have just given Reginald your love." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"And I have told him not to remain away too long." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"Good night, dearest mamma." + +"Good night, my dearest." + +"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for +the hopes of that young girl!" + +In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her +husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys +given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power +to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his +thought." + + + + + XXVI. + + +I relate in my own words the strange story Mrs. Carew imparted to me. +Although she had erred, her confession was like a rift of sweet light +in the dark clouds which hung over Rosemullion. It brought more than +hope and comfort to my old heart--it brought joy. In a very few +moments you will understand the meaning of my words. + +Transport yourself back to the village of Nerac, a year after the +marriage of Lauretta and Gabriel Carew. Business of a particular +nature took Carew from Nerac for a space of three months; he was +absent that time, much against his will, for his wife was near her +confinement. This took place safely two weeks after his departure, and +he was duly informed of the event. All was well at home; Lauretta and +her baby girl were thriving. The days and the weeks passed until two +months went by. Carew, in his letters to his wife, expressed the +profoundest joy at this precious home blessing. Smarting as he was +during that period from the growing coldness of the villagers towards +him, and chafing at the injustice of the world, he placed an +extravagant value upon this baby girl, who would be, he said, a charm +against all evil. He longed for the time when he could hold this +blessing in his loving arms; now his happiness was complete; he asked +for no greater treasure. In the growth and development of the new +young life he would find solace and consolation. His wife was enjoined +to take the most tender care of their child. "You and she are one," +Carew wrote. "Each is incomplete without the other. I cannot think of +you now apart. Were I to lose one my life would be plunged into +darkness." Then befel an event which brought horror and grief to +Lauretta. It happened that her nurse had fallen sick, and was +compelled to go to her own home; there was no other female servant in +the establishment capable of undertaking a nurse's duties, and +Lauretta therefore took them cheerfully on herself. Two months, as I +have said, had passed after the birth of the baby girl. Carew was +expected home in a fortnight. + +In the dead of night, when all in the house were asleep, with the +exception of Lauretta, she, watching by the cradle of her baby, heard +a sound of moaning without. She listened intently; it was her own name +that she heard uttered in accents of deepest pain and suffering. It +was a wild night; heavy rain was falling, the wind was raging; and +through the sounds of the storm came the wailing of her name, with +half-choked sobs and entreaties for help and pity. + +It was but an hour before that Lauretta, awaking, had heard proceed +from her baby-girl lying in the cradle by her bedside, some light +sounds of difficult breathing which had alarmed her. She got up and +dressed, and tended her baby, who, after a while, seemed a little +easier; but with the natural anxiety of a young mother Lauretta +remained awake watching her child. + +The moans for help outside appeared to be especially addressed to her +and to her alone, and she seemed to recognise the voice. She crept +softly down, and unfastened the door. + +"Who is there?" she asked, during a lull in the storm. + +The answer came--"Patricia! Help me! Oh help me, and let no one know!" + +It was Emilius's wife. + +Lauretta assisted her indoors. The poor girl was in a pitiable plight. +Famished, ragged, penniless, with a baby in her arms. Both were +wringing wet. The pelting rain had soaked them through and through. + +Throbbing with sympathy and compassion Lauretta quickly undressed +Patricia's baby, and put it in her own warm bed. They had by this time +reached Lauretta's bedroom, in which her own child was lying. Lauretta +wished to call the servants, but Patricia sobbed that she would fly +the house if any eyes but Lauretta's rested on her. It appeared, +according to the poor girl's story, that her father was in pursuit of +her, and had vowed to kill her and her baby. + +"He will kill me--he will kill me!" moaned Patricia. "No one must know +I have been here but you--no one, no one!" + +And then she rocked herself hysterically and cried, "What will become +of my poor baby-girl--what will become of her? I heard that your +husband was not here, and it gave me courage to crawl to you. Not that +it matters much. It isn't for myself I care. My father may kill me--I +have not long to live--but my baby, my baby! Oh, save my darling, save +her for the sake of my innocent Emilius!" + +It was then that Lauretta noticed for the first time, signs in +Patricia's face which, interpreted by her fear and the poor girl's +words, seemed to be signs of approaching death. And still Patricia +insisted that she would not remain in the house; no force or +entreaties could make her. + +"What, then, can I do for you?" asked Lauretta; she had already given +Patricia food and money. + +"Take care of my child," replied Patricia. "Bring her up as your own. +Let her never know her father's disgrace, her mother's shame. It will +be an angel's deed! For pity's sake, do not deny me! You are rich, and +can afford the charity--and if, in your husband's life there has been +guilt, this act of charity will atone for it. See here--look on her +innocent face. Having the power, you have not the heart to deny me. +Ah, if your angel mother were alive, I should appeal to her, and +should not appeal in vain! She loved Emilius, and believed in his +innocence--yes, to the last she believed in it. I know it for a +certainty. You, too, loved my poor martyred husband, and he loved and +honoured you and yours with all the strength of his faithful heart. He +is innocent, innocent, I tell you! God forbid that I should accuse any +one of being guilty--I am too desperate and despairing, and my child's +life, the salvation of her soul, are at stake. When your sainted +mother died, did all goodness die out of the world? Ah, no--it is not +possible; you live again in her. In you she lives again, and all her +mercy and sweet kindness which caused us all, from the highest to the +lowest, to worship her, to look upon her as something holy. For her +sake, if not for my own, you cannot, cannot deny me this charity, you +who have it in your power to grant it!" + +All this, and more. To say that Lauretta's heart was touched is +inadequate; it overflowed; it yearned to assist the suffering mother, +so near to her through her young motherhood, through the old ties with +Emilius and Eric. A choking cry from her own baby-girl caused her to +rush to the cradle. Within the hour a fatal circumstance occurred. +Lauretta's baby drew her last breath. + +It has nearly all my days been my belief that everything in human life +is to be accounted for by human standards. I am shaken in this belief. +In this death of Lauretta's baby I seem to see the finger of fate. + +Vain to attempt to describe the agonising grief of the young mother. +So overpowering was it that she lost consciousness. She recovered her +senses when the storm had passed and the morning's light was shining +on her. When she awoke to reality, what did she see? + +Her husband had suddenly and unexpectedly returned home. She was in +bed, and he was sitting by her side. + +"Gabriel, Gabriel!" she cried, and, overcome by the terror of her +great loss, she would have lost consciousness again but for an +unaccountable joyousness in his manner, which mingled strangely with +the sympathy he must have felt for her suffering condition. + +"It was, doubtless, the storm," he said soothingly. "It raged so +fiercely for an hour and more, that I am told it exceeded in violence +anything of a like kind that has been experienced in these parts for +the last fifty years. No wonder it has had such an effect upon you. +Half the trees in our garden are uprooted. It hastened my steps home, +for I know how these convulsions of nature affect you. But as you see, +the danger has passed; the sun is shining brightly; but not more +brightly in the heavens than it is shining in my heart." + +She listened to him in amazement, and raising herself in bed she +looked around for Patricia. She saw no sign of the hapless woman. The +cradle in which her baby-girl had died was by the side of the bed. +Carew bent over it and said in a tone of ecstasy: + +"Mildred--Mildred! Our Mildred--our dear ewe lamb! How sweetly and +soundly she sleeps! Oh, my darling wife! What care I for the injustice +of the world now that this treasure is ours? My sweet--my sweet! You +recompense for all. Do you know, Lauretta, as travelling home I neared +the beloved spot which contained you and our treasure, my heart almost +stood still at the fear that I should not find you both well. And +now--how can I be sufficiently grateful? Of no account to me is all +that transpires outside the circle which contains you and my dear one +in the cradle here? I set great store upon our child, Lauretta. She is +to me a guarantee of all that is worth living for in the present and +the future. When I arrived home and found you prostrate I was at first +overwhelmed, but I soon discovered that you had fainted, and I judged +rightly, did I not, dear wife of my heart, that, not being strong, you +kept it from me while we were apart, in order not to distress me? But +now all is well--all shall be well. See, Lauretta, she opens her eyes, +our darling. The question is, can I raise her safely and place her by +your side? Yes, it is done, and I am the happiest father in the +world!" + +Was she dreaming? In the clothes in which her child died rested this +child of Patricia's, smiling, blooming, laughing and crowing as +Lauretta drew her to her breast. Carew's delight, his gratitude, his +worship of the babe he believed to be his own, the superstitious store +he set upon her young life, were so unbounded, that Lauretta did not +dare to undeceive him. She feared, if she told him the truth, that it +would unsettle his reason, and produce between her and him a gulf +which could never be bridged over. She accepted the strange +combination of circumstances, and held her tongue. Her own dear babe +was dead, but this new Mildred, whom she grew to love truly as if she +were her own, remained, and grew to what she is, a flower of beauty, +goodness, and sweetness. Nothing more did Lauretta hear of Patricia; +whether she died or lived was not known to her. It is but a +detail--but necessary to complete the story--to state here that +Patricia lived but a few months after the occurrence of this strange +event. More important is it to state that, in some unexplained way, +Emilius learns that his daughter lived, and that the Carews were +bringing her up as if she were a child of their own. His term of +imprisonment over, he had come now to claim her. + +It would be impossible for me to give expression to my feelings of +gratitude at this wonderful revelation. The despair into which I had +fallen at the contemplation of the wrecking of my dear son Reginald's +happiness vanished. A fair future lay still before him, and the most +cherished hopes of his heart would be realised. I was sure that +Emilius would not mar them. A nature so noble as his, so strong in +suffering, so heroic in the highest form of human endurance, could not +lend itself to the committal of a petty act of selfishness whereby the +child upon whose memory he had lived during his cruel and unjust +imprisonment would be rendered miserable and unhappy. To this martyred +man I was ready to bow my head, ready to give him my friendship, my +sympathy, my heart's best fruits of confidence and esteem. Thinking of +him, I was awed that a man could live through the anguish that had +been his portion, and still retain the inherent dignity and nobility +of a great and noble nature. + + + + + XXVII. + + +"Hark!" whispered Mrs. Carew, her story told, and before we had time +to debate upon the wisest course to pursue. "What sound is that?" + +It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In this sound there was +no attempt at concealment. The footsteps were those of one who desired +his presence to be known. I divined instantly who it was who, by some +means unknown to me, obtaining an entrance into the house, was now +approaching the room in which Mrs. Carew and I were sitting. I could +not, and did not blame him. In his place I should have acted as he was +acting. + +The silver clock chimed the hour of twelve. + +"You will see him," I said, rising to my feet and advancing to the +door. + +"See whom?" asked Mrs. Carew, with her hand at her heart. + +"Emilius. It is he and no other man who is coming here. He has a great +stake in this house. He is justified." + +"My husband?" she gasped. + +"Is safe, if you will only be guided by me. It is your duty to be +brave and strong. Never was courage more needed than at this moment. +And not only courage, but wisdom. Decide quickly. There is no time to +lose." + +"I will be guided by you," she said faintly. + +I threw open the door, and saw Emilius standing in the passage, +uncertain which direction to take. + +"Enter," I said in a low tone. "Mrs. Carew is here. For the sake of +others be gentle, and do not alarm the house." + +He entered, and Mrs. Carew and he stood face to face. + +The native dignity of the man instantly asserted itself. He removed +his ragged cap and stood bareheaded before her. But there was no +cringing in his attitude. It was perfectly respectful--something, +indeed, more than that; it was the attitude of a man who once was this +sweet lady's equal, and who, despite the judgment of the world, still +knew himself to be her equal, and worthy of the esteem she once +accorded to him. But as he gazed upon her, and she upon him, in +silence for a few moments--a silence which I did not dare to +break--his stern mood melted. He saw and recognised her, as he had +always seen and recognised her in the time that was gone, when he was +entitled to hold up his head among men--but never more so in truth and +honour than now--a gentle-mannered lady, in whose face shone the +reflex of a sweet and womanly nature. Remembrances of the past rushed +upon him and softened him. + +"Forgive me," he said humbly. + +And then--tears filled my eyes as I saw it, and knew the suffering she +was bravely enduring--she held out her hand to him. He bowed his head +over it, as for a moment he held it in his. + +"I could not wait any longer," he said, softly. "I have entered like a +thief into your house--but I have waited so long!" + +"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," she said. "Emilius, be +merciful to me and mine!" + +"I have no thought of revenge," he said, in a voice as soft as her +own. "I am a broken-down man, with one sole hope. But I could not +stand before you, the Lauretta I loved with the pure love of a +brother, if I did not know myself unstained by crime or any taint of +dishonour." + +"I believe you, Emilius," she said. + +"You believe me, Lauretta!" he exclaimed, advancing a step towards +her. + +"I believe you, Emilius," she repeated. + +Had he come with savage intent she could not more surely have disarmed +him. + +"It is more than I dared hope for," he said. "How often, Lauretta, in +the gloom of my prison, have I thought of you and your dear parents, +of the home of innocence and love in which I was ever a welcome guest, +of the once happy village in which I was honoured and respected. Some +crumbs of comfort fell to my lot, some gleam of light shone through +the darkness. Had it not been so, and had I not been animated by +another hope, I might have gone mad. Good Father Daniel visited me +regularly, at permitted intervals, until he died. He had the firmest +faith in my innocence, and he brought me messages which fell like +heavenly balm upon my wounded spirit. Your sainted mother believed in +my innocence, and she bade him tell me so, and that her love for me +was unchanged. And now, you! But your mother's soul shines in your +eyes. It could not have been otherwise." He paused a moment or two, +reflecting what to say. "On one of Father Daniel's visits he brought +me a letter, securely sealed. It was against the prison rules, but +that did not deter him from doing what he deemed to be right. I +hastily concealed it, noting first, however, with a beating heart, +that it was addressed to me in my wife's handwriting. I asked him if +he knew what it contained, and he answered 'No;' and then, with a +grave face, he bade me prepare for solemn news. I felt at once what +was coming. Can you divine my purpose, Lauretta, in telling you this?" + +"I think I can," she replied. "Go on." + +"It was while the good priest was on a mission of mercy that a +villager came to him and said that in a hut hard by a woman was dying, +and, hearing that he was in the neighbourhood, begged him to come to +her. Father Daniel went, and discovered that the woman was Patricia, +my wife. She was very near to death, and she had only strength to +entreat him to deliver to me, secretly, a letter she had written. He +promised to do so, and in a few minutes after he received it from her +she drew her last breath. Before she died he asked her after her +babe--for Patricia was quite alone--but she did not seem to understand +him. Subsequently, however, he learnt from the villager that Patricia +had said her baby was dead. This was the mournful news which Father +Daniel conveyed to me in prison. Despite his attempts at consolation, +I felt when he left me that I was truly alone in the world. Brother, +wife, child, all dead! I prayed to God to send death to me soon. +What had I to live for? But there was my wife's letter, and before +twenty-four hours had passed I found an opportunity to read it. +Lauretta, that letter informed me what had become of my child, and it +laid upon me an obligation of secrecy for so long a time as I was in +prison. Patricia solemnly adjured me not to breathe to a living soul +that our child lived in your care; but I was to be released from this +obligation when I was a free man. Then I was to act as it seemed to me +right to act. Is there any need, Lauretta, for me to enter more fully +into the particulars of Patricia's letter?" + +"There is no need, Emilius." + +"Except, perhaps, to say that when you were lying senseless before +her, and your tender blossom lay dead in its cradle, it was only then +that the idea entered Patricia's mind of changing the children's +clothes, and leaving her baby with you. It was done, and Patricia +stole away with your dead child at her breast, herself to die, as she +well knew, before many weeks had passed. I have something to tell you, +Lauretta"--and here Emilius's voice was charged with a new note of +tenderness. "When Father Daniel next visited me I begged him to +discover where the dead babe was buried, and to put a few flowers on +the grave. The good priest did more. He paid a village woman to attend +to it, and he left a small sum of money to be spent in beautifying the +grave of your child. Flowers have grown upon it and around it from +that day to this. I visited the grave before I set forth on my journey +here, and I knelt and prayed there. I prayed a blessing upon you, +Lauretta, and I prayed that I might live to see the hope fulfilled +which shone like a star upon me through the long years of my prison +life. Lauretta," he cried, stretching forth his trembling hands, "my +child--my child"-- + +"She lives," sobbed Mrs. Carew, "in goodness, health, and beauty--a +flower of sweetness!" + +He fell upon his knees before her, and kissed her dress, and it was +then I heard a sound without which, for a moment, transfixed me with +terror. They, overwhelmed by emotion, were deaf to this sound. It was +that of a man creeping stealthily from his chamber--and that man +Gabriel Carew. Quickly recovering myself, and feeling the necessity +for immediate and prompt action, I addressed Emilius and Mrs. Carew. + +"Attend to me," I said impressively. "All is well with you. You, +Emilius, have gained a daughter, and will embrace her at sunrise. You, +dear lady, have not lost a daughter, for Mildred will be to you as she +has ever been. I have proved myself your friend. Answer quickly--have +I not?" + +"Yes," they both replied. + +"Do not, therefore, ask me for the reasons for my present action. I +demand from you both a sacred promise--that you will not leave this +room till I call for you, till I give you permission. It shall be +given at the latest by sunrise. I must have this promise--I must!" + +My voice, my manner, Mrs. Carew's fears for her husband, and +confidence in me, compelled assent. + +"We give it," she said. + +"We give it," said Emilius. + +"I accept it, and bind you to it. What I do is for the good of +all--for your future, for Mildred's future--and to avert disaster. +Only I can do this. Whatever you hear, you will not open this door +without my permission, after I leave it. When I am gone, turn the key, +and admit no one unless I desire it. It is understood?" + +"Yes," they said, "it is understood." + +As I closed the door behind me I heard the key turned in the lock. + + + + + XXVIII. + + +The sound of soft footsteps proceeded, as I supposed, from Gabriel +Carew, but to my surprise he was not coming towards the room I had +just left, but was stealthily ascending the stairs which led to +Mildred's room. His eyes were open, and his movements were dictated by +intelligent caution, but he was asleep. In his left hand he carried +the naked dagger. + +I ran up the stairs softly and swiftly, heedless of danger to myself, +and walked by his side. He took no notice of me. Standing by the door +of Mildred's room he paused, and was about to put his hand to the +handle when I seized his wrist. + +"What are you about to do?" I whispered, my lips close to his ear. +"Speak low, the house must not be disturbed." + +To my horror, he replied, in a whisper as low and distinct as my own: +"'Our race must die with him; not one must live after him to +perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most solemnly upon him; if he +violate it he will be an incredible monster.'" + +They were the words written by his father which he had already quoted +to me earlier in the day. + +"Your daughter is not in that room," I said, not raising my voice, +grateful that we had as yet attracted no notice. "If you enter, your +purpose will be frustrated." + +"Who speaks to me?" he asked. + +"The spirit of murder," I said. "The Devil who is leading your soul to +perdition. Come with me. I will direct you aright." + +He shuddered, but he did not hesitate. With my hand still firmly +grasping his wrist, he allowed me to lead him from the room. We +descended the stairs, slowly, stealthily, until we reached the landing +upon which the study was situated. I led him into the room, and with +lightning motion locked the door and plucked out the key. Then, +uncertain how next to act, I took my hand from his wrist, and +retreated a few steps. He, also, was now uncertain of his movements. +He stood still a while, then tried the door, and finding it fast, took +some halting steps this way and that, and finally fell into the chair +in which he had been accustomed to write. + +As I gazed upon him I was sensible of a gradual change in his +appearance. A pallor crept into his face, a film seemed to come across +his eyes. Alarmed, I grasped his shoulder with rough strength, and +shook him violently. + +"Mr. Carew!" I called. + +He trembled in every limb, closed his eyes, and clasped them with his +hands--in one of which he still held the dagger. Presently he removed +his hands from his face, and looked confusedly at me. + +"Are you awake?" I asked. + +"Yes," he replied faintly. "Give me a glass of water." + +I gave him a full glass, and he drained it. I observed as he did so +that it was only by an effort he prevented it from slipping from his +hand. Then he spoke again. + +"How came I here?" he asked. "Skilful as you are in your profession, +you can do nothing for me. How came I here?" + +"I conducted you hither," I said, "from the door of Mildred's room. +You have a dagger in your hand." + +Until this moment he seemed to be unconscious that he held the weapon, +and now he started and allowed it to drop to the ground. + +"Give thanks to God," I said solemnly, "that I stepped forward in time +to save the life of an innocent child." + +"Great God!" he murmured. "It is fit that I should die!" + +The silver chimes of the clock proclaimed the hour of two. He smiled +piteously and gratefully, and said, "It is almost time." + +"There is a hidden meaning in your words," I said. "What have you +done?" + +"Doctor, you are wrong. There is no hidden meaning in my words. All is +clear and plain. What should I do to myself? What should be done to +such a man as I? You are not deceiving me. You found me, you say, at +the door of my daughter's room, with the dagger in my hand?" + +"It is true." + +"Then my purpose was murder. What further confirmation is needed of +the truth of my father's revelation? Be thankful, doctor, that your +son Reginald has escaped from my daughter, my miserable, unhappy +child. Ah, me! Whose fate is the heaviest, hers or mine, or the +innocent flower I married?" + +"I can give you some comfort," I said. "In one respect I can set your +heart at ease." + +"Impossible, impossible!" he cried. + +"Not so. I have that to relate which though at first it may cause you +pain, cannot fail, upon reflection, to make you grateful. If I were to +tell you that you have not transmitted to an innocent girl the fatal +inheritance which has weighed like a curse upon your life, how would +it be with you?" + +"It would be heaven--it would be light! Unconscious sinner as I am, it +might mean forgiveness!" + +"I have been closeted with your wife, from whose lips I have heard +what you should hear. You will listen to me?" + +"Will you be long?" he asked, with a strange smile. + +"I will be as brief as possible--and receive it from me, as I received +it from your wife, that every word I utter is true." + +I told him the story of Mildred, who until now he had believed to be +his daughter. Perceiving that he was ill, I shortened it as much as +possible. Once or twice I paused in my recital, and asked him if he +was in pain. + +"In pain!" he cried. "When you are bringing heaven to me! The +agitation you observe in me proceeds from joy. Do not linger. Finish +quickly, quickly!" + +At the chiming of the half-hour my story was done. There was a happy +light in Carew's eyes. White as his face had grown, peace had stolen +into it. + +"Oh, God, I thank Thee!" he murmured, raising his arms; and then he +suddenly fell forward on his face. + +"I raised his head, and assisted him into a recumbent position. + +"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried. + +"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. +"First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you +not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..." + +"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his +daughter that he came to England." + +"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my +angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... +It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked +of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these +years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the +subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go +quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no +pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!" + +I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay +back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his +face. But he was dead! + + * * * * * + +It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were +in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. +What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own +lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his +dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of +an awful crime. + + * * * * * + +A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it +was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife +had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done +in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from +poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last +resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to +look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion. + +Emilius stood bareheaded by my side. + +"God forgive him!" said Emilius. + + * * * * * + +The disclosure of Mildred's real parentage made no difference in the +relations between her and Mrs. Carew. It was mother and daughter with +them, as it had always been, and even some additional and subtle tie +of new tenderness was added to the feelings of love for each other +which will animate their hearts till the last hours of their lives. + +No one in the county, with the exception of ourselves, is acquainted +with the story of Emilius. A dignified, gentle-mannered gentleman, he +quickly won the esteem of all who came in contact with him. There +often reigns in his face a strange expression of sadness, and he +sometimes speaks to me of Eric; but there is joy in his life, and he +is grateful for it. + +The marriage of Mildred and Reginald was postponed for a decent time, +and then these young people were made happy, and sent upon their +honeymoon, accompanied by blessings and tears and heartfelt wishes for +good. + +As I prepare to end my task I see in my mind's eye the form of one +who, in every act of her life, in every gentle word that falls from +her lips, has sanctified for me the name of Woman. Not only in idea, +but in deed. "God bless Mrs. Carew!" is said by many out of her +hearing, and if to live a good pure life will earn God's blessing, she +has earned it, and it is hers. + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + Richard Clay And Sons + London And Bungay. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET INHERITANCE VOL 3 *** + +***** This file should be named 45882-8.txt or 45882-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/8/8/45882/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the +Web Archive and Google Books. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Farjeon</title> + <meta name='DC.Title' content='A Secret Inheritance, Vol. III' /> + <meta name='DC.Creator' content='B. L. Farjeon' /> + <meta name='DC.Publisher' content='Ward and Downey' /> + <meta name='DC.Created' content='1887' /> + <style type="text/css"> + + + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr.chap {color:black; + width: 10%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w10 {width: 10%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w20 {width: 20%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.w33 {width: 33%; + color:black; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 10%; color: black; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} +hr.full {width: 95%;} + +ul.index { list-style-type: none; } +li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; } +li.indx { margin-top: .5em; } +li.isub1 {text-indent: 1em;} +li.isub2 {text-indent: 2em;} +li.isub3 {text-indent: 3em;} + + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3) + +Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +Release Date: June 4, 2014 [EBook #45882] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET INHERITANCE VOL 3 *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the +Web Archive and Google Books. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> + +<p style="margin-left:4em; text-indent:-4em">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +1. Page scan source:<br /> + http://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ<br/> + (Oxford University)<br/> +2. Table of contents added by transcriber.</p> +</div> + + + + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h2>A SECRET INHERITANCE</h2> +</div> + + + + +<div style="margin-top: 6em"> +<h3>A</h3> +<h1>SECRET INHERITANCE</h1> +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top: 6em; margin-bottom: 4em"> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>B. L. FARJEON,</h2> +<h4>AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA,"<br/> +"THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC.</h4> +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em"> +<h3><i>IN THREE VOLUMES</i><br/> +VOL. III</h3> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<h4>LONDON</h4> +<h3>WARD AND DOWNEY</h3> +<h4>12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.</h4> +<h5>1887</h5> +</div> + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h4>Richard Clay and Sons,<br/> +LONDON AND BUNGAY.</h4> +</div> + + + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:18em"> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h2><a href="#book2" name="bk02">BOOK II (<i>Continued</i>)</a></h2> + +<p class="center">CHAPTER</p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.7" name="ch2.7">VII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.8" name="ch2.8">VIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.9" name="ch2.9">IX.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.10" name="ch2.10">X.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.11" name="ch2.11">XI.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.12" name="ch2.12">XII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.13" name="ch2.13">XIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.14" name="ch2.14">XIV.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.15" name="ch2.15">XV.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.16" name="ch2.16">XVI.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.17" name="ch2.17">XVII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.18" name="ch2.18">XVIII.</a></p> + +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.19" name="ch2.19">XIX.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.20" name="ch2.20">XX.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.21" name="ch2.21">XXI.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.22" name="ch2.22">XXII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.23" name="ch2.23">XXIII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.24" name="ch2.24">XXIV.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.25" name="ch2.25">XXV.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.26" name="ch2.26">XXVI.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.27" name="ch2.27">XXVII.</a></p> +<p class="center"><a href="#chapter2.28" name="ch2.28">XXVIII.</a></p> + +</div> + + + +<div style="margin-top:6em; margin-bottom:6em"> +<h2>A SECRET INHERITANCE.</h2> + +<hr class="w10" /> + +<h3><a name="book2" href="#bk02">BOOK THE SECOND (<i>Continued</i>).</a></h3> + +<hr class="w10" /> + +<p style="margin-left:4em; text-indent:-4em">IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW IS +REVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND, +TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO., +CALIFORNIA.</p> +</div> + + + + + +<p style="text-indent:0">VOL. III.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.7" href="#ch2.7">VII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his version +of what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use the +phrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to say +to which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be applied +with the greater force--took place in private, only the accused and +the magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, being +present. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis and +Gabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in the +prisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimental +views which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as the +love which it was well known had existed between the brothers since +their birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned, +the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, and +the general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom he +had chiefly lived.</p> + +<p>"My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man's +life and character are not only valueless but misleading when the +passions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate him +utterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angel +to a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himself +for the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, the +judgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is the +victim of delusions."</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!"</p> + +<p>"Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely.</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis did not reply.</p> + +<p>"No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence, +and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabric +is destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evident +disinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours he +passed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He is +concealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When I +accused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether his +meeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he was +unable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remark +to which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There are +matters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would be +difficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person to +understand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was his +reply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime I +did not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Have +these mysterious matters between you and your brother of which you +speak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for the +prisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but he +corrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon his +murder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' he +replied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?' +I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, if +you were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely be +justified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, of +course, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal chooses +to intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery, +but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of putting +justice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before our +interview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intended +to persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered a +little, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to one +person only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying that +I would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused to +mention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine, +this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him to +his meditations."</p> + +<p>"Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt."</p> + +<p>"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"You once entertained an esteem for him."</p> + +<p>"True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of each +other. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldom +remove, hides so much!"</p> + +<p>"So much that is evil?"</p> + +<p>"That is my meaning."</p> + +<p>"You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly.</p> + +<p>"Late events and a larger experience are driving me in that +direction," replied the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Have you any objection to granting me a private interview with +Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. You have but to name your own time."</p> + +<p>"May Mr. Carew see him also?"</p> + +<p>"If he wishes."</p> + +<p>In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due to +an absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was against +Emilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of the +accused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing what +he felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The one +person to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself."</p> + +<p>To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to Doctor +Louis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversion +which, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards each +other, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must have +been strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt it +his duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia.</p> + +<p>"But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, and +endeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappy +man. He was not successful.</p> + +<p>"There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly to +struggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more so +now. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise."</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refused +the hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," he +said, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge."</p> + +<p>"You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, the +evidence was so black against Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogs +our family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyed +Eric; it will destroy me."</p> + +<p>"Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme, +"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reason +for my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have been examined +informed me that there is a certain matter in connection with this +deplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am I +he--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?"</p> + +<p>"I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement to +the magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were, +indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right."</p> + +<p>"And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own free +will. He bears me no friendship."</p> + +<p>"He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though you +have not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I am +sure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power."</p> + +<p>"Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Then +why should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is not +of this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received with +sympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who are +acquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related to +any other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of a +maniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. For +this reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though I +am groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would not +confide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why you +should be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light of +your belief that Carew bears you no friendship."</p> + +<p>"I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should most +likely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptings +which a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one of +them. I perceive that you do not receive these apparent +inconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not, +through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with my +father, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to you +as a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, would +you not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wild +effort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it not +happened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities and +inconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake you +will be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son."</p> + +<p>Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius his +hand, who again refused it.</p> + +<p>"Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that I +fear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears be +confirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service. +Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, my +father's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder of +my brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, may +be briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, and +grew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric made +her acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should have +been frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patricia +instead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted his +doom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, there +are a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go frankly +to Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is a +question that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty in +answering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here, +and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared her +father; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, is +difficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her own +station in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman. +Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dread +that her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. I +did not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We were +married in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longer +possible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it was +discussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardon +when he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was for +an earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union with +me, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep, +unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' she +said; and I believed it would.</p> + +<p>"This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of my +brother Eric."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.8" href="#ch2.8">VIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he +recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours +which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her +father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to +wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a +horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken +for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and +Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my +watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when +Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and +upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the +jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with +fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had +had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was +overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that +we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep +without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe +she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made +preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished +her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with +which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it, +and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber.</p> + +<p>"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part +of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night +was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry +moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep. +I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing +was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for, +upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I +had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing +quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I +judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were +aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative.</p> + +<p>"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation?</p> + +<p>"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few +minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible +that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time, +but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's +sleep.</p> + +<p>"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual +existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated +with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a +strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown +to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to +<i>my</i> brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of +love, and who had inspired in <i>his</i> heart feelings akin to my own. The +tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and +the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging +both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another, +which was the chief cause of my violent awaking.</p> + +<p>"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon +which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking +through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious +moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the +ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its +details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind +him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in +its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and +warn him!'</p> + +<p>"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke.</p> + +<p>"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had +come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the +warning?</p> + +<p>"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay. +Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name. +She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing +her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper, +'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!'</p> + +<p>"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I +awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I +might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having +neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by +other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son.</p> + +<p>"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my +absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have +forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is +well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her +breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her.</p> + +<p>"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without +hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the +forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and +recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams. +And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me, +strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him.</p> + +<p>"'Eric!'</p> + +<p>"'Emilius!'</p> + +<p>"But there was no friendliness in his tone.</p> + +<p>"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried.</p> + +<p>"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied.</p> + +<p>"'In search of me?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must +speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.'</p> + +<p>"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh.</p> + +<p>"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and +tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes; +shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!'</p> + +<p>"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially +all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview. +Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I +succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious +wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me.</p> + +<p>"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should +have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother, +that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It +lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia. +It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.'</p> + +<p>"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I +succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were +guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe +that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his +side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he +had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well, +kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the +witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an +injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart +is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my +reason when I think of my wife and unborn child.</p> + +<p>"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And +then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable +impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him +to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and +that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place, +and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely +dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them. +'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been +fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have +loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.'</p> + +<p>"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest. +I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison."</p> + +<p>"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.9" href="#ch2.9">IX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Throughout this narration Doctor Louis was impressed by the suspicion +that something was hidden from him. He pressed Emilius upon the point, +and his suspicion was strengthened by the evasive replies he received.</p> + +<p>"Enough, for the present, of myself," said Emilius; "let me hear +something of the outside world--of the world that is dead to me."</p> + +<p>"What do you wish to know?" asked Doctor Louis sadly.</p> + +<p>"Of yourselves," replied Emilius. "Of your good wife, whom I used to +look upon as a second mother. She is well?"</p> + +<p>"She is well," said Doctor Louis, "but in deep unhappiness because of +these terrible events."</p> + +<p>"How does she regard me--as innocent or guilty?"</p> + +<p>"She has the firmest belief in your innocence. When I told her I was +about to visit you, she desired me to give you her love and sympathy."</p> + +<p>"It is like her. And Lauretta?"</p> + +<p>"I did not inform her that I was coming. She is in great distress. You +and Eric were as brothers to her."</p> + +<p>"And now," said Emilius, with a certain recklessness of manner which +puzzled Doctor Louis, "one is dead and the other disgraced. But she +will live through it. She has a happy future before her?"</p> + +<p>He put this somewhat in the form of a question, to which Doctor Louis +replied without hesitation: "We have the best of reasons for hoping +so. But our conversation, Emilius, appears to have taken a heartless +turn. Let us rather consider the chances of establishing your +innocence and setting you free."</p> + +<p>"No, let us continue to speak of your family. There may not be another +opportunity--who knows? My judges may take it into their heads to keep +me in solitary confinement, and to deprive me entirely of the solace +of friendly intercourse, until they have got rid of me altogether. The +chances of establishing my innocence are scarcely worth considering; +they are so slender. Slender! They are not even that. I see no +loophole, nor do you. What is wanted is fact--hard, solid fact, such +as an actual witness, or a frank confession from the murderer. +Everything tangible and intangible is against me. Eric and I were +rivals in a woman's love; we had a meeting, in which we reconciled our +differences, and in which the horror of brotherly hatred was scotched +clean dead. Who were present at this meeting? My dear brother, who is +gone and cannot testify; and I, whose interest it is to say whatever +my tongue can utter in my defence. To prove my innocence I can bring +forward--what? Shadows. I could forgive my judges for laughing at me +were I to set up such a defence. Easier to believe that I killed my +brother in a dream. Could that be proved, there would be some hope for +me, for it might be argued that I was not accountable. Let us dismiss +it. I have told you all I know positively; for the rest, I am strong +enough to keep it to myself, being aware of the manner in which it +would be received."</p> + +<p>"Surely you are not wearied of life!" said Doctor Louis, shocked at +this reckless mood.</p> + +<p>"That is not to the point. Wearied or not, it is not in my power to +choose. Were I free, were my fate in my own hands, it would be worth +my while to consider how to act in order that the crime might be fixed +upon the guilty one. And hearken, Doctor, I am not swayed by impulse; +there is something of inward direction which holds me up. I hear +voices, I see visions--not to be heard or seen or taken into account +in a court of justice; of value only in a prison. They assure me that, +though I may suffer and be disgraced, I shall not die until my +innocence is proved."</p> + +<p>"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile, I wait and take the strokes which fate deals out to me. A +crushed manhood, a ruined life, a blasted happiness! And there is a +happy future, you say, before Lauretta? You have every confidence in +Mr. Carew? Lauretta loves him?"</p> + +<p>"With her whole heart."</p> + +<p>"And you and your good wife approve--are content to intrust her +happiness into his keeping?"</p> + +<p>"We are content--we approve."</p> + +<p>"May all be as you hope! Say nothing to them of me. The best mercy +that can be accorded to me is the mercy of forgetfulness. I have a +favour to beg of you."</p> + +<p>"It is granted."</p> + +<p>"You will be kind to my wife; you will not desert her--you will, if +necessary, protect her from her father, who, I fear, will never +forgive her?"</p> + +<p>"I will do all that lies in my power to further your wishes--though I +still hope for a favourable turn in your affairs."</p> + +<p>"Your hope is vain," said Emilius. "I thank you for your promise."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.10" href="#ch2.10">X.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminent +lawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their case +was so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. They +pleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerable +point. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character of +the accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, to +acts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts were +not entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but a +chord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it. +A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he was +condemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away, +and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but it +was long before they forgot him.</p> + +<p>These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carew +and Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace to +submit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himself +more than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness to +Lauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered its +healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to +religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of +rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their +honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The +sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly +said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful +auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were +henceforth one.</p> + +<p>They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, +travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters +home betokened that they were perfectly happy.</p> + +<p>"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness +and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. +Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; +heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the +precious gift of a nature so pure?"</p> + +<p>Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had +given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was +ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the +village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had +gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little +missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of +infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first +which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was +the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's +grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta +had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan +during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes +were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not +immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more +her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few +minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of +his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those +faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might +prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. +Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting +apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the +other end of the room.</p> + +<p>"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>"Very, very happy."</p> + +<p>"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I would wish that she should never change."</p> + +<p>"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, unhappily."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when +they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to +bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good +life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in +which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that must +count!"</p> + +<p>"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just."</p> + +<p>"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, +after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three +months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things +than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe +anything?"</p> + +<p>"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone.</p> + +<p>"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than +when you saw her last?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as +if she had passed through a sickness."</p> + +<p>"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly to +her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled +with fears for her."</p> + +<p>"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are +brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them."</p> + +<p>"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes +fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that +has excited her."</p> + +<p>"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. +They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said +during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence of +my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear +mother will grow stronger."</p> + +<p>It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew +weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which +Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the +minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not +longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return.</p> + +<p>"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis.</p> + +<p>It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise +nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these +would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by +his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta +did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even +the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss +of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn +with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the +hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men +and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from +morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, +and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly +left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes +brightened when she was told of this.</p> + +<p>"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free +from temptation and sin!"</p> + +<p>These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel +Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the +terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once +innocent village with blood and crime.</p> + +<p>"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though +they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in +Emilius's innocence."</p> + +<p>"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. +Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'"</p> + +<p>It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the +village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally +applied to her.</p> + +<p>"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble +offerings at her door.</p> + +<p>In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, +was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving +messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wish +being father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all, +a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope +that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad +occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify +their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a +feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel +Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on +Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before +Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He +was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of +that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. +Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in +his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which +he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the +priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and +that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did +not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had +once been friends.</p> + +<p>So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family +the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death.</p> + +<p>"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew.</p> + +<p>There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her +request that they were alone.</p> + +<p>"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be +dealt by as I deal by her!"</p> + +<p>"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You +have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No +thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is +the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing +what was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I have +been much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emilius +to be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breath +I declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one I +loved as my son if I did not say this to you."</p> + +<p>"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?"</p> + +<p>"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe as +I believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her, +if you can. Promise me."</p> + +<p>"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she will +receive help from me."</p> + +<p>"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, +she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one +question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in +your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to +him at such a moment.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever +darken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, +teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as the +example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter +to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at +him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel."</p> + +<p>He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to +Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of +death.</p> + +<p>Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised +his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn +for resentment or coldness.</p> + +<p>"Pray with me," said the priest.</p> + +<p>Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's +direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned +to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of +the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly +and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly +around her.</p> + +<p>When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. The +shops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly, +and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit was +looking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning of +the funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantities +of simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from Doctor +Louis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds were +singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis to +Lauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she would +like to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how the +years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful +for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly +woman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes."</p> + +<p>And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!"</p> + +<p>The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowers +are growing.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.11" href="#ch2.11">XI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were +they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their +departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not +been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their +favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, +because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his +face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one +who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his +clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed +about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or +for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for +private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too +close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he +entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to +children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and +women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. +Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at +the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person +from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one +servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, +and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the +sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite +purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, +gazing at him. He approached and addressed her.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said.</p> + +<p>"This is it," the servant replied.</p> + +<p>"So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. +Is the master at home?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"He lives here, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, +and has not yet taken up his residence."</p> + +<p>"His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, they're married, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a +stranger."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is +he?"</p> + +<p>"It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, +resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"You will find him in the village."</p> + +<p>"That's a wide address."</p> + +<p>"He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where +that is."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and +said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?"</p> + +<p>"He left months ago."</p> + +<p>"Left, has he? Where for?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you."</p> + +<p>"Because you won't?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow."</p> + +<p>"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was +brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out +of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil +shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can +be no harm in my asking where <i>have</i> you come from--being, as you say, +a stranger in these parts?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a +different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to +anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for +your information."</p> + +<p>He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no +difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that +something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took +mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was +witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was +taken to its last resting-place. He did not know at the time whether +it was man or woman, and he took no pains to ascertain till the +religious ceremony was over. Then he addressed himself to a little +girl.</p> + +<p>"Who is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer +to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a +mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if +not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages +which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" +Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Dead," said the little girl mournfully.</p> + +<p>"And you are sorry?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody is sorry."</p> + +<p>"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what <i>he</i> said." Again, aloud: +"That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is her husband there--Gabriel Carew?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out.</p> + +<p>The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled +with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, +gazed at them, as though in the endeavour to fix their faces in his +memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. +None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special +sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away, he followed them at a +little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone +from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because +for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. +Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exactions is not to +be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which +he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the +afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him.</p> + +<p>"You are Father Daniel?"</p> + +<p>"I am." And the priest, with his earnest eyes upon the stranger, said, +"I do not know you."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the man, "I have never seen you before to-day. We are +strangers to each other. But I have heard much of you."</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From Emilius," said the man.</p> + +<p>"Emilius!" cried Father Daniel, and signs of agitation were visible on +his face. "Are you acquainted with him? Have you seen him lately?</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with him. I saw him three days ago."</p> + +<p>Father Daniel fell back with a sudden impulse of revulsion, and with +as sudden an impulse of contrition said humbly, "Forgive me--forgive +me!"</p> + +<p>"It is I who should ask that," said the man, with a curious and not +discreditable assumption of manliness, in the humbleness of which a +certain remorseful abasement was conspicuous. He bowed his head. +"Bless me, Father!"</p> + +<p>"Do you deserve it?"</p> + +<p>"I need it," said the man; and the good priest blessed him.</p> + +<p>"It is, up to now," said the man presently, raising his head, "as +Emilius told me. But he could not lie."</p> + +<p>"You are his friend?" said Father Daniel.</p> + +<p>"I am not worthy to be called so," said the man. "I am a sinner. He is +a martyr."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me your hand. Nay, I will have it. We +are brothers. No temptation has been mine. I have not sinned because +sin has not presented itself to me in alluring colours. I have never +known want. My parents were good, and set me a good example. They +taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?"</p> + +<p>"And I, Father?" said the man in softened accents. "I! Great God, what +am I?" It was as though a revelation had fallen upon him. It held him +fast for a few moments, and then he recovered his natural self. "I +have never been as yourself, Father. My lot was otherwise. I don't +complain. But it was not my fault that I was born of thieves--though, +mind you, Father, I loved my mother."</p> + +<p>"My son," said Father Daniel, bowing his head, "give <i>me</i> your +blessing."</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>"Give <i>me</i> your blessing!"</p> + +<p>Awed and compelled, the man raised his trembling hands above Father +Daniel's head. When the priest looked again at the man he saw that his +eyes were filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"You come from Emilius."</p> + +<p>"Yes, with messages which I promised to deliver. I have been in prison +for fifteen years. Emilius joined us; we hardened ones were at first +surprised, afterwards we were shocked. It was not long before we grew +to love him. Father, is there justice in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Father Daniel, with a false sternness in his voice. "That +it sometimes errs is human. Your messages! To whom?"</p> + +<p>"To one who is dead--a good woman." He lowered his head a moment. "I +will keep it here," touching his breast; "it will do me no harm. To +you."</p> + +<p>"Deliver it."</p> + +<p>"Emilius desired me to seek you out, and to tell you he is innocent."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>"That is the second. The third is but one word to a man you +know--Gabriel Carew."</p> + +<p>"He is here," said Father Daniel.</p> + +<p>With head bowed down to his breast, Gabriel Carew came from Doctor +Louis's house. His face was very pale. The loss which had fallen upon +him and Lauretta had deeply affected him. Never had he felt so humble, +so purified, so animated by sincere desire to live a worthy life.</p> + +<p>"This man has a message to deliver to you," said Father Daniel to him.</p> + +<p>Gabriel Carew looked at the man.</p> + +<p>"I come from Emilius," said the man, "and am just released from +prison. I promised him to deliver to you a message of a single word in +the presence of Father Daniel."</p> + +<p>In a cold voice and with a stern look Gabriel Carew said, "All is +prepared. What is your message?"</p> + +<p>"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking."</p> + +<p>"I understand."</p> + +<p>"Murderer!"</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.12" href="#ch2.12">XII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this +recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate +events, in order that the interest of the story should not be +weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached +will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state +at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's +mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the +village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, +named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have +only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship +whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return +to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there +were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to +settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly +distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the +inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against +him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his +company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for +which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his +flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged +those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing +their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. +Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis +died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the +break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest +contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few +weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his +feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in +his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to +demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by +her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant +persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, +and her new life commenced in a foreign land.</p> + +<p>Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in +England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, +as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that +five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of +Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations +were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The +grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken +of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to +set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always +excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the +master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a +fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not +only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the +gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely +more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was +some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel +Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in +association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I +can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, +we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before +you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you +to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is +removed.</p> + +<p>Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not +necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young +people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. +Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. +For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too +old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls +who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special +privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to +this lady's house.</p> + +<p>From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He +had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his +heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told +me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was +she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of +course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes.</p> + +<p>These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. +In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information +respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father.</p> + +<p>He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and +danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love +with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my +son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of +his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting +light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature.</p> + +<p>For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met +Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young +lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the +house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance +party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty +years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting +her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at +me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight.</p> + +<p>"It would be an excellent match," she said.</p> + +<p>"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?"</p> + +<p>She smiled, and replied, "Well, only in imagination."</p> + +<p>I gave a sigh of relief. I had no wish that Reginald should seriously +compromise himself with a young lady who was a total stranger to me. +She renewed my uneasiness, however, by saying,</p> + +<p>"Yes, only in imagination so far as an actual declaration is +concerned. But, my dear sir, the young people have settled it for +themselves, without consulting wiser and older heads than their own. +It is the way of young people."</p> + +<p>She spoke rather quizzically, as though playing with me for an idle +gratification, and I told her as much. She instantly became serious, +and assured me that had she not approved of the more than liking that +Reginald and Miss Carew had for each other, she would have taken steps +to keep them apart.</p> + +<p>"Then the mischief is done," I said.</p> + +<p>"If you deem it mischief," was her reply. "Yes, it is done. The pair +are passionately in love with each other. But I am mistaken in my +opinion of them if they are not to be trusted. They will do nothing in +secret; when the affair becomes so serious as to render an open +declaration inevitable, they will consult those nearest to them, to +whom they owe a duty. In that respect I will answer for Mildred. You +should be able to answer for Reginald. Now that your eyes are opened, +invite his confidence. Speak to him frankly and lovingly, and he will +conceal nothing from you. I repeat, it would be an excellent match. +She is in every way worthy of him, and he is worthy of her. She is a +lady; her mother is a lady, and the personification of sweetness, +though I fancy sometimes she has a sorrow. But what human being is +perfectly happy? And Mildred's father is a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Are you well acquainted with him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No, not well acquainted. There are few who can say that of him. He is +a man whose absolute friendship it would be hard to gain. All the more +precious, therefore, to him who wins the prize. It might be worth your +while to try, for Reginald's sake. Should his suit be accepted, an +intimacy between you and Mr. Carew is inevitable. You will find him a +man of rare acquirements. You have a leaning towards men and women who +think for themselves, and who have a vein of originality. Mr. Carew +being of this order, you will be naturally drawn to him. A not +inconsequential item in the programme is that he is wealthy, and that +Mildred is his only child. Mrs. Carew and Mildred have just entered +the room. I must go to them; follow me in a moment or two, and I will +introduce you."</p> + +<p>I obeyed her instructions, and in a short time was made known to them.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.13" href="#ch2.13">XIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I did not agree with Reginald's estimate of their beauty. He placed +Mildred first, and her mother second. My judgment reversed this order. +Mildred was truly a most beautiful girl, but Mrs. Carew's beauty was +of a quality which, the moment I set eyes on her, impressed me more +deeply than I had ever been in my life by the sight of a woman's face. +It is not only that it is physically perfect, but that there is in it +a spirituality which took my heart and my mind captive. It is as +though the soul of a pure woman is there reflected--of a woman who, if +she ruled the world, would banish from it suffering and injustice. She +is the incarnation of sweetness and gentleness; and yet I could not +avoid observing in her features the traces of a secret sorrow to which +the lady of the house had referred. This indication of a grief nobly +and patiently borne added to her beauty, and deepened the impression +it produced upon me. I am not exaggerating when I say that, standing +before her, I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. Were I a +painter, my ambition would be to fix upon canvas a faithful portrait +of one so pure and lovely. I should call my picture Peace.</p> + +<p>Her daughter differs from her in appearance. Her beauty is of another +type--milder, more full of expression and variety; she has opposite +moods which, as occasion serves, are brought into play in +contradiction of each other. This may render her more captivating to a +young man like Reginald, and were I as young as he I might also find a +greater attraction in the daughter than in the mother. A sweet and +beautiful girl, modest and graceful in all her movements, I was +satisfied that Reginald had chosen well, and at the same time I was +convinced that all the earnestness of his soul was engaged in the +enterprise.</p> + +<p>"I am happy," said Mrs. Carew to me, "to know Reginald's father."</p> + +<p>"No less happy am I," was my rejoinder, "in making the acquaintance of +a lady of whom I have heard so much."</p> + +<p>"Reginald has spoken of me?"</p> + +<p>"Of you and your daughter--continually, from the first evening on +which he had the happiness of meeting you. It was for the purpose of +obtaining an introduction to you that I came here to-night, an +uninvited guest."</p> + +<p>I felt that there must be no concealment in my intercourse with Mrs. +Carew. To be honest and outspoken was the surest way of winning her +friendship. Reginald and Mildred had wandered away, her hand upon his +arm. Mrs. Carew's eyes followed them, tenderly and wistfully.</p> + +<p>"We shall be very happy to see you at Rosemullion," she said; and I +promised to pay her an early visit.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said my hostess, when I left Mrs. Carew's side.</p> + +<p>"I cannot but approve," I answered. "I have never met a sweeter lady. +If the daughter's nature resembles her mother's, and Reginald is +fortunate enough to win her, he will be a happy man."</p> + +<p>My hostess smiled and nodded in satisfaction. An inveterate +match-maker, she was always delighted at the success of her +good-natured schemes.</p> + +<p>On the following day I visited Mrs. Carew, and made the acquaintance +of her husband, Gabriel Carew. I will not waste time by giving a +description of him. What you have already read will have prepared you +for his introduction <i>in propria persona</i>. Sufficient to say that I +was favourably impressed, and that I had not been in his company five +minutes before I discovered that the gentleman I was conversing with +was a man of extraordinary erudition and mental compass. I was +fortunate enough to win his favour; he showed me over his library--a +collection made by himself, and which could only have been gathered by +one of superior attainments. That my society was agreeable to her +husband was a manifest pleasure to Mrs. Carew, and once during his +temporary absence to obtain a book of which we had been conversing she +expressed a hope that we should be often together.</p> + +<p>"He is too much of a recluse," she said. "I have wished that he should +mix in society more than he does--indeed, he sees very little of +life--but he has a distaste for it."</p> + +<p>I replied that the distaste of a man like Gabriel Carew to share in +the frivolities of the age was to be easily understood. She answered +wisely, "Surely a little innocent frivolity is not to be condemned. +One may become too serious."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew is a student?" I said.</p> + +<p>"From his early youth," she replied, "he has been devoted to +book-lore. His young life was lived here in seclusion, and it was not +till after the death of his parents that he saw anything of the +world."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carew returned, and looked at us smilingly. He touched his wife's +hand lightly, but slight as was the action, there was affection in it.</p> + +<p>"I possess the gift of divination," he said. "You have been speaking +of me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>"And of my love of solitude," he continued. "But what is bred in the +bone--you understand. There are inherited virtues and inherited vices. +The question is, at what point does actual responsibility become a +burden for which we can be justly called to account, and until that +moment, to define its precise relation to committed acts? Is it your +opinion that crime can be justified?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said.</p> + +<p>"Under no circumstances?"</p> + +<p>"Under no circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Early teaching, early habits, transmitted vices of the blood--are +they not factors? A man is an entity--complete possessor of his own +body and soul, which may be pure or hideous according to +circumstances. But you make him arbitrarily accountable. Do not +misunderstand me--I am simply theorising. Nothing of the argument +applies to me except my love of solitude, which is harmless, and hurts +no man. I have had experiences of the world, and have been misjudged. +There was a time when I was angry, when I inwardly rebelled. I do so +no longer. I am content. My wife, my child, my home, my lonely habits, +make up the sum of a fairly happy life. Are you fond of tea?"</p> + +<p>The light question, addressed to me in the midst of serious words, +somewhat startled me. I answered, "Yes;" and upon a motion from her +husband Mrs. Carew left the room to prepare the tea. Gabriel Carew +explained.</p> + +<p>"It is not ordered in this room because of a whim of mine. My wife has +an apartment which is to me a sanctuary of rest, and there it is that +we often sit and read and converse as we drink our tea. She is anxious +about me, but there is really no cause for anxiety. She has an idea +that solitude is affecting my health; she is mistaken; I was never +stronger, never better." He broke off suddenly with the remark, "You +are a physician?"</p> + +<p>"It will be correct to say I was," I replied. "Many years ago I +relinquished practice."</p> + +<p>"So I have heard; and I have also learnt that you held a distinguished +position. I have in my library your book treating of diseases of the +mind, in which you avoid the common ground of demonstrable insanity. +You speak there, if I remember aright, of inherited mental disease."</p> + +<p>"I have devoted two chapters to the theme."</p> + +<p>"And clearly confute," he pursued, "the statement you made just now +that under no circumstances can crime be justified."</p> + +<p>"I made that statement," I said, a little confused by this just +challenge, "from a general standpoint."</p> + +<p>"I speak from an individual standpoint," he remarked. "Which of the +two is the more human? However, this is diverging somewhat. Can you +tell me why, as twilight approaches, a change in my mood works +mysteriously within me? I was gay--I become morose. I was cheerful--I +am sad."</p> + +<p>"Nerves," I said, "affected by external forces. That is the only +answer I can at present give, knowing so little of you."</p> + +<p>Twilight was upon us as we conversed, and I observed that his face was +growing dark. With a strong, healthy, and decided motion he shook off +the influence, and held out his hand to me.</p> + +<p>"Know more of me," he said. "I have been informed of the mutual liking +which has sprung up between my daughter Mildred and your son. We will +speak of this seriously at a future time. Meanwhile, let your son +visit us; my home is open to him and you. I have a horror of +secrecies. We will shape our course in the light. Shall we strive to +be friends?"</p> + +<p>Apart from my inclination to be upon friendly terms with him--in the +first instance born of my anxiety for Reginald's happiness--there was +in Gabriel Carew's manner an irresistible charm, and I now desired his +friendship for my own sake as well as for Reginald's. I met his +advances cordially, and we spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Carew and +Mildred in the room which Carew had likened to a sanctuary. Its +influence upon him was an influence for good. The gloom which had +gathered on his face with the approach of night faded away, and was +replaced by a cheerfulness which found vent in his speech. I was more +than ever surprised at the vast stores of knowledge which he had +acquired. There was not a subject started of which he was not master, +and upon which he was not able to throw a new light, and when we +parted it was with mutual expressions of esteem, and with a mutual +wish that the intimacy thus auspiciously commenced should be allowed +to ripen into a close and genuine friendship. What particularly struck +me was the almost worshipping love Carew entertained for his wife. We +were standing in the garden, when, with a tender, personal application +of a theme we had broached, Carew said:</p> + +<p>"You know the old legend of every human being being accompanied +through life by two angels, one good and one bad each striving to +obtain mastery over him. My good angel is a visible one, and it is +ever by my side."</p> + +<p>He placed his hand upon his wife's shoulder, and she raised her eyes +to his. They gazed upon each other like lovers, and at that moment +there was not upon either face a trace of gloom or sorrow.</p> + +<p>"True love exists between those two," I thought, as I wended my way +home. "The shadows that hover round them are but idle fancies. I +rejoice that a daughter of these noble people has won my son's heart."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.14" href="#ch2.14">XIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">A general survey of the few months that followed will suffice. There +are many small details which it would be pleasant to dwell upon, but +these may be safely left to the imagination. They consist for the most +part of the episodes which marked the progress of the love affair +between Mildred and Reginald--who, without any distinct declaration +from us, conducted themselves toward each other as an engaged couple. +We elder people tacitly held back from entering into an express +engagement, Mrs. Carew waiting, as it were, upon my movements and +those of her husband. I am in a position to explain the reasons of my +own backwardness in this important matter. Gabriel Carew's reasons +must, for the present, be left to explain themselves. I need scarcely +say that Reginald and Mildred were perfectly happy, being satisfied +that they possessed our sanction to their love. No fault was theirs in +this respect. If blame was due anywhere, we, their parents, were the +persons upon whom it justly fell.</p> + +<p>The hope of a binding friendship between myself and Mr. and Mrs. Carew +was more than fulfilled. Not only did we become firm friends, but the +closest confidential relations were established between us. So much so +that I became acquainted with the history of the inner and outer lives +of Gabriel Carew and his sweet wife. There was little to learn of Mrs. +Carew's life which I had not already imagined; it was a record of +innocence and sweetness. But what I learnt of Gabriel Carew afforded +me food for grave reflection. So intimate were our relations, so +perfect was the confidence he reposed in me, that he concealed nothing +from me. His frankness won my admiration and greatly disturbed me. The +recital of his youthful life, of his midnight wanderings, of his +solitary musings, and afterwards of the death of his parents, of his +entrance into Nerac, of his intimacy with the family of Doctor Louis, +and of the tragic events that occurred in the peaceful village, made +up the sum of the strangest record which had ever been imparted to me. +I confess to being much affected by the fate of Eric and Emilius, and +I asked Carew whether he had heard anything of Emilius of late years. +His reply was that he had heard nothing, and that the unhappy man was +probably dead.</p> + +<p>"You have no doubt that he was guilty?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest doubt," said Carew.</p> + +<p>I was not so sure; the story had excited within me a singular sympathy +for Emilius.</p> + +<p>Now, in what I am about to say with respect to Gabriel Carew, I had, +at that time, I admit, the slightest of grounds; and the powerful +effect a certain suspicion had upon me was all the more singular +because of the absence of reliable evidence. The study I had made for +many years of the different forms in which insanity presents itself +was very captivating to me, and in the course of my researches I +unearthed some weird particulars, of which, were I a writer of +fiction, I could make effective use. Gabriel Carew was an affectionate +husband and father, a faithful mate to his wife, a wise counsellor to +his daughter. He had not a vice which I could discover. He was neither +a spendthrift nor a libertine. He drank in moderation, and he never +gambled; indeed, he detested all games of chance. His views of men and +manners were singularly correct, and denoted a well-balanced brain. It +was only where his affections were concerned that he could be called +in any way extravagant; but this would be accounted rather a virtue +than a vice. His recreations were intellectual, and he sought pleasure +and happiness only in his home and in association with books and his +wife and child. What judgment would you, from a distance, pass upon +such a man? What but that of entire approval? But I was in daily +contact with him, and signs were visible to me which greatly disturbed +me. To speak plainly, I doubted Gabriel Carew's perfect sanity!</p> + +<p>This was a matter of most serious moment. If Carew were not sane, his +disease, so far as I could judge, was of a harmless form. The proof of +this lay in his affection for those of his blood, and--which, in +evidence is, in my opinion, quite as strong--in his tenderness to +animals and birds. But I have to a certainty established not only that +insanity is hereditary, but that what is harmless in the parent may +become destructive in the child. Mildred was Carew's daughter, and to +all appearance as free from any touch of insanity as the most +healthful of human beings. But the germ must be in her, to be +transmitted to her children--to Reginald's children if he married her.</p> + +<p>This consideration impelled me to secret action in the way of inquiry. +It would have been, useless to appeal to Reginald, and to set before +him the probable consequences of such an union. My counsel would have +fallen upon idle ears. My duty, however, was clear. It was for me to +protect him.</p> + +<p>Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me +by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much +which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the +motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was +of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, +anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt +to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to +exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with +hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before +the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear +up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those +early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing +upon his youth.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom +myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to +you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the +morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, +perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after +sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of +old age."</p> + +<p>I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, +with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these +discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not +mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not +appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person +who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave +a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of +years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any +correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and +he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that +time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, +supposing her to be still living.</p> + +<p>"In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an +address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing +some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said +presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection."</p> + +<p>Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may +reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you +in your inquiry."</p> + +<p>I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he +had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and +encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle +and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The +next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had +told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me +also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most +intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would +communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her +power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to +pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his +presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the +information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a +sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made +preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of +the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.15" href="#ch2.15">XV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years +of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour +about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most +strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished +her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would +have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her +that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed +to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no +surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. +Carew.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her.</p> + +<p>She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He is well," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she +said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and +never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what +might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then he has not carried out his intention?"</p> + +<p>There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right +and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made.</p> + +<p>"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed.</p> + +<p>She nodded assent.</p> + +<p>"As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is +married?"</p> + +<p>She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of +interest within her at this intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?"</p> + +<p>"No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year."</p> + +<p>"Is his wife living?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her +portrait?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied.</p> + +<p>I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I +thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. +I handed her the picture.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me.</p> + +<p>"Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, +beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her."</p> + +<p>"Is she happy?"</p> + +<p>"Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of +love."</p> + +<p>"That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?"</p> + +<p>Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to +give, she took advantage of it.</p> + +<p>"Then he is not happy?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere +light curiosity that I have sought you."</p> + +<p>"It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. +You are not here at my bidding."</p> + +<p>"True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from +Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with +him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person +living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of +his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack +of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been +matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, +believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the +case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. +His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting +with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which +reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your +refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was +alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more +hurtful than the truth might have been."</p> + +<p>She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been."</p> + +<p>"But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have +contributed to avert evil consequences?"</p> + +<p>"To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?"</p> + +<p>"To others," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that +question. You have more to say."</p> + +<p>"There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. +Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to +your sense of justice would probably weigh with you."</p> + +<p>"It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any +profession?"</p> + +<p>"I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I +practised as a physician."</p> + +<p>"In a general way, or as a specialist?"</p> + +<p>"Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon +certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you +would like to read it."</p> + +<p>"It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should +have devoted myself to that branch of the profession."</p> + +<p>I gave her the book, which she placed aside. "It is not, however, +solely in that capacity," I said, "that I am here. That certain +indefinite impressions, springing from my professional experiences, +have prompted me, I do not deny; but my strongest reasons are private +ones. Is it your belief that insanity is hereditary and ineradicable?"</p> + +<p>"That is my firm belief," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is also mine. Mrs. Fortress, are you a married woman?"</p> + +<p>"I married a few months after I left Mr. Carew's service. Within two +years of my marriage I lost my husband."</p> + +<p>"Have you any children?"</p> + +<p>"One--a son."</p> + +<p>"Who must be now approaching manhood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"That is my case. My wife is dead, and I have an only child--a +son--who is deeply in love with Gabriel Carew's daughter."</p> + +<p>This introduction of Miss Carew threw Mrs. Fortress off her guard; +there was a startled flash in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear," she said, "that Mr. Carew has a daughter. Has he +other children?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mildred Carew is, like your son and mine, an only child. I +purposely brought three things with me, in the hope that they would +help me in my purpose. Two you have--my book and the portrait of +Gabriel Carew's wife. Here is the portrait of his daughter."</p> + +<p>She examined it with the greatest interest, and remarked that she saw +no resemblance in it to the father.</p> + +<p>"That has struck me," I observed; "neither does she resemble her +mother in any marked manner. But that sometimes happens, though it is +not the rule."</p> + +<p>"Is there an engagement between your son and Miss Carew?"</p> + +<p>"They are courting each other, with a view to marriage."</p> + +<p>"With your consent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it was given before I became intimate with Mr. Carew."</p> + +<p>"And since then you have repented?"</p> + +<p>"I have been greatly disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Rather," she said slowly, "than my son should marry a daughter of Mr. +Carew's, I would see him in his grave."</p> + +<p>This declaration profoundly agitated me, so far did it go to confirm +me in my suspicions. "I asked you a question a few moments since," I +said, "and you said you would wait a little before you answered it. +Will you answer it now?"</p> + +<p>"Your question was, 'Had a painful truth been revealed to Mr. Carew +when he was a single gentleman, whether it might have averted evil +consequences to others.'"</p> + +<p>"You have stated it correctly."</p> + +<p>"It might have done," she said. "But it appeared to me that Mr. Carew +was the last man in the world to attract a woman's heart. I often said +to myself, 'He will never marry.'"</p> + +<p>"You were mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I was; and I say again I am sorry." She took from her pocket the +letter I had given her from Mr. Carew, and read it carefully and +slowly, in a new light it seemed to me. Even when she had finished the +perusal she did not immediately speak, but sat in silent thought a +while.</p> + +<p>"I am not a tender-hearted woman," she said, "and not easy to move +when I pledge myself. Mr. Carew's father behaved well to me, and +fulfilled his promise of providing for me if it was in his power to do +so after the death of his wife. I, on my part, kept the two promises I +made him when I entered his service. The first was not to leave his +service during the lifetime of his wife; the second not to divulge, +without powerful cause, the secret of the unhappy inheritance he +feared his wife had transmitted to their son. When I bade farewell to +Mr. Gabriel Carew in Rosemullion, I saw no such cause for divulging +the secret, and I declined to satisfy my young master. It may be +different now, and I may be tempted to satisfy <i>you</i>. "</p> + +<p>"Out of your sense of justice?" I observed.</p> + +<p>"Not entirely. Mr. Carew's letter contains the offer of a reward."</p> + +<p>I met her instantly and with eagerness. "I am prepared to pay it."</p> + +<p>"It happens that I am in need of a sum of money. An opportunity is +open to my son which will be to his advantage, but I am not rich +enough to purchase it."</p> + +<p>"How much is needed?" I asked.</p> + +<p>She named a sum which was modest in comparison with the limit which +Gabriel Carew had given me, and I at once consented to pay it to her +for her information. I had money with me, and I counted out the amount +she required, and handed it to her. After ascertaining that it was +correct, she commenced.</p> + +<p>"When I accepted the situation Mr. Carew offered me, I did it with my +eyes open. I was at that time employed in a lunatic asylum, and was +dissatisfied with my rate of pay. Mr. Carew offered me higher terms. +His wife was a dangerous woman, and needed constant watching. Properly +speaking, she should have been placed in an asylum, but the thought of +so doing was hateful to her husband, who desired to keep his domestic +affliction from public knowledge. He would have regarded such a +disclosure as an indelible disgrace. There are similar secrets in many +families. At the time he married her, he had no suspicion that her +blood was tainted, and it was only three months before the birth of +Gabriel Carew that he made the discovery. I do not profess to be +thoroughly familiar with all the particulars; I am not a prying woman, +and was contented with what he told me. When he made the dreadful +discovery he and his wife were abroad, and the occasion of it, so far +as I could gather, ran in this fashion. Mr. Carew was occupying a +house in Switzerland--he was rich at the time--and was entertaining +guests. Among them was a false friend who was managing his affairs in +England, where Mr. Carew lived for the greater part of every year. +Ultimately this friend robbed him of his fortune, which Mr. Carew +never recovered, coming, however, into another later on, which enabled +him to purchase the estate of Rosemullion. One evening there was a +large party in Mr. Carew's house, in which his friend was stopping. +Mrs. Carew was passionately fond of music, and there was a Tyrolean +air for which she had an infatuation. She sang and played it again and +again, and became much excited. It is not out of place to say that she +was a very beautiful woman. The evening passed on, and the guests had +departed. All but one--her husband's false friend, who was stopping in +the house. Either his duties as a polite host or some other business +called her husband away, and Mrs. Carew and this friend were left +alone. He asked her to play and sing again, and she did so for him; +and then he made love to her. She repulsed him indignantly, but he was +not to be easily daunted, and a climax arrived when he grossly +insulted her. This roused her to fury, and she caught an ornamental +dagger---but a weapon capable of mischief--from the table, and would +have plunged it into his heart had he not caught her wrist and +disarmed her. He flung the dagger away, and then coolly told her that +her husband had implicit confidence in him, and that he would invent a +story that would ruin her. He told her, too, that he had her husband +in his power, that she and he were at his mercy, and that he could +beggar them at any moment. There occurred then a singular change in +her; her excitement left her, and she became as cool as he. Deceived +by this, he renewed his suit, but she held him back, and she said one +word to him: 'Wait!' To wait meant to hope, and he said he would be +content if she would play and sing to him again. She did so--the same +Tyrolean air she had sang so many times on this evening. Her husband +came in, and the scene ended. In describing it I am drawing from what +Mr. Carew told me afterwards in England. But the incident was not to +end there. Mr. Carew and his wife retired, and he, awakening in the +middle of the night, missed her from his side. He started up, and saw +that her clothes were gone. At the moment of the discovery he heard a +cry, and he ran from the room. He saw his wife approaching him; she +was fully dressed, and she held in her hand the ornamental dagger, +which was stained with blood. There was a smile on her lips, but +although he stood straight in front of her, with a candle in his hand, +she did not appear to see him. She passed by without a word or look of +recognition. He followed her to their bedroom, and there she laid the +dagger aside, undressed, and went to bed. She had been all the time +fast asleep. When she was abed he looked at the blood-stains on the +dagger; there was no wound upon her; from whom came the blood? From +whence the cry? The direction from which his wife had come was that of +the room occupied by his friend. He went there, and found his guest +just reviving from a state of insensibility caused by a stab in his +breast while he was asleep. Mr. Carew could form but one conclusion, +and his sole aim now was that the matter should be kept quiet. In this +he succeeded, having invented a story which his friend professed to +believe, and into which Mrs. Carew's name was not introduced. It +suited Mr. Carew's friend not to dispute the invented story; his wound +was not very serious, and he subsequently repaid the injury by +beggaring the man who had reposed entire confidence in him, and whose +wife he had attempted to lead to her ruin. Mr. Carew could not +immediately question his wife, for the next morning she was +dangerously ill. The ordinary doctors who were called in did not +appear to understand the case, and eventually Mr. Carew consulted a +foreign specialist of renown, who informed him that there was insanity +in his wife's blood, and that it would most likely assume a phase in +which there would be danger to those about her. This alarmed Mr. +Carew, not for his own sake, but for his wife's. There was a law in +that part of the country, which, put in force, would have removed Mrs. +Carew from his care, and he made haste for England, where he would +feel safe. Thus far in his wife's illness no dangerous symptoms were +visible, and he flattered himself into the belief that the foreign +doctor was wrong in the opinion he had given. The most marked +characteristic of the disease manifested itself in a harmless fashion, +being simply a sentimental passion for the Tyrolean air Mrs. Carew had +sung so many times on the night when the hidden seed of insanity began +to grow. Under these conditions Gabriel Carew was born. She insisted +upon nursing the child, which, had I been in their service at the +time, I should not have allowed. When Gabriel was two years of age, +the dangerous symptoms of which the foreign doctor had warned Mr. +Carew began to manifest themselves, and I was engaged as nurse. Mr. +Carew had lost his fortune then, but he was not entirely without +means, the largest portion of which was spent upon his wife. He paid +me liberally, his one desire in life being to keep the skeleton of his +home concealed, not only from the world, but from the knowledge of his +son. He thought that, growing up in ignorance of his mother's +condition, Gabriel might escape the contagion. I thought differently, +but we had no discussions on the subject. He had engaged me to perform +a certain duty, and I performed it--there it ended. I had nothing to +do with consequences. After Mr. Carew took possession of Rosemullion +his wife became worse; there were weeks together when no person but I +could approach her with safety. I had perfect control over her. She +was obedient, through fear, to my lightest word. It was certainly +merciful that the sad secret, having been so long concealed from +Gabriel, should remain so. If mischief were done, it was not now to be +averted. This is the explanation of Gabriel Carew's lonely boyhood +life, and it will possibly help to explain any strange peculiarities +you may have observed in him. I do not consider I have violated the +second promise I gave to his father--that I would not divulge without +powerful cause the secret of Gabriel Carew's unhappy inheritance. +There seems to me here to be cause sufficient for secrecy not to be +any longer observed. My tongue being now unsealed, I am ready to reply +to any questions you may ask."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.16" href="#ch2.16">XVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Mrs. Fortress's statement made everything clear to me, and also marked +out for me a clear path of duty. Knowing what I now knew, it would +have been an act of monstrous wickedness to allow Reginald to marry +Mildred. Never could I hope to be forgiven did I not prevent the +union. Better that my son should live a life of unhappiness through +all his days than enter into a contract which would doom the unborn to +madness--perhaps to crime. It was not only an offence against man, it +was an offence against God. The task before me was difficult, I knew; +but I must face it bravely and without flinching. Hearts would be +broken in the struggle--well, better that than the awful consequences +which would follow such a marriage. My own heart bled as I +contemplated what must occur during the next few weeks.</p> + +<p>Thus did I excitedly reason with myself in the first heat of the +revelation. When I became cooler I saw more clearly the difficulties +in my way. What evidence had I to produce? That of an old woman who +had given me certain information--which tallied with my own +suspicions--for a large sum of money. A cunning woman, to supply +me with what she saw I wished. Cunning from the first. Paid +liberally--nay, extravagantly--always, according to her own +confession. Her one single motive in the matter from first to +last--money. Was it likely, being in service so temptingly +remunerative, that she should not adopt every cunning means to retain +it? There was not only the immediate pay, but the prospect of a reward +which would make her comfortable for life. She had so manÅ“uvred +that she gained this reward. During the lifetime of Gabriel Carew's +mother Mrs. Fortress held supreme power over her. Her son was only +allowed to see her a few minutes at a time at intervals of weeks. Even +her husband, at the bidding of this clever woman, was denied +admittance to his wife's chamber. What difficulty was there, in those +days and weeks of seclusion, to so oppress, irritate, and torture the +poor patient as to compel her to put on the semblance of madness--to +drive her into it indeed? Such cases were not unknown. Even now, from +time to time, the public heart is stirred by a sudden revelation of +such atrocities.</p> + +<p>These were cogent arguments which I raised against myself. With myself +in my son's place I should confidently advance them, and should laugh +to scorn the weak opposition which would bar my way to happiness. I +sighed as I thought. The obstacles in my way were every moment growing +more formidable.</p> + +<p>These were not the only arguments against myself which occurred to me. +There was Mrs. Fortress's conduct when she left Rosemullion after the +death of her mistress. Gabriel Carew had made a pitiful appeal to her. +How had she met him? By assuming a mysterious air, indicating that she +had the key to a secret in which he was vitally interested, but that +she did not intend to give it to him. Why had she done this? Who could +doubt the answer to such a question? It was necessary to the <i>rôle</i> +she had adopted. Any other course would have led to an exposure of her +vile scheme. There was the legacy which Mr. Carew left her in his +will. Were the real truth known she might be deprived of it. +Therefore, the assumption of mystery in her last interview with +Gabriel Carew. A cunning woman indeed.</p> + +<p>Against evidence so flimsy there was a heavy weight of testimony. Was +not Gabriel Carew a loving husband and father? No person could dispute +it. He loved his wife and child, and they loved him. Was he ever known +to commit a cruel act! Never. Was not his purse ever open to the call +of charity? Innumerable instances that such was so could be adduced. +Could even light acts of rudeness and incivility be laid at his door? +What was the worst that could be said of him? That he was not fond of +society, that he was a recluse. Could not this be said of hundreds of +estimable men, and was it ever put forth as a distinct offence? If he +did not himself go into society, did he prevent his wife and child +from doing so? On the contrary. He encouraged them to seek amusement +which he, a grave man and a student, possibly deemed frivolous. Fond +of books, seeking his greatest pleasures in them, was not this +distinctly in his favour, and did it not prove him to be of a superior +nature to the common herd? The heaviest charge was that which, in +conversation with me, he had brought against himself--that on the +approach of night his spirits became gloomy. Slight grounds indeed for +so serious an accusation as insanity. Madmen were proverbially +cunning. Gabriel Carew was the soul of frankness, himself opening up +discussions which would tell against him were he not mentally and +physically sound and healthy. I began to despair.</p> + +<p>These reflections did not all pass through my mind in the silence +which followed the conclusion of Mrs. Fortress's statement. They are +the summing-up of my thoughts at that time and during my homeward +journey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fortress was waiting patiently for me to put +any questions which might occur to me.</p> + +<p>"Beyond yourself, Mrs. Fortress," I said, "and your master and +mistress, was there no person cognisant with Mrs. Carew's condition?"</p> + +<p>"None, sir, with the exception of the foreign doctor."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me his name?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know it, but a doctor of his learning would not have been a +young man when Mr. Carew consulted him, and it is hardly likely he +would be now living."</p> + +<p>"True," I said.</p> + +<p>"Besides," she added, "his experience of Mrs. Carew could have been +but slight. Almost immediately after he gave Mr. Carew his opinion of +my mistress, they left for England, as I have told you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I remarked, "and he may, after all, have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>She shrank a little, I fancied, but she said firmly, "He may have +been, I was not."</p> + +<p>"I am not doubting you, Mrs. Fortress," I said.</p> + +<p>She interposed here by saying, "It is immaterial whether you are or +not. The facts are as I have stated them."</p> + +<p>"I understand, of course, that you have spoken honestly, but is it not +possible you may have judged wrongly?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot admit it, sir," she replied with calm dignity. "It is not +possible."</p> + +<p>Certainly she maintained her ground. I continued my inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Before Mr. Carew came into his second fortune he lived humbly in +London?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in poor lodgings."</p> + +<p>"Did the house contain other lodgers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And did not any of them suspect or discover the mystery so close to +them?"</p> + +<p>"In my belief not another person in the house had any suspicion."</p> + +<p>"You lived for many years in Rosemullion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did not Mrs. Carew have a medical adviser?"</p> + +<p>"A doctor called and saw her from time to time."</p> + +<p>"Was he not aware of her condition?"</p> + +<p>"He was not. His visits were a mere matter of form, and he frequently +called at the house without seeing my mistress."</p> + +<p>"By whose directions was she denied to him?"</p> + +<p>"By mine. It was part of my duty to preserve my master's secret."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you did your duty, Mrs. Fortress."</p> + +<p>Her lip curled. She did not thank me.</p> + +<p>"Did this doctor ever see Mrs. Carew alone?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I took care always to be present, and I always prepared my +mistress for his visits, warning her to be careful."</p> + +<p>"Did she never rebel?"</p> + +<p>"With respect to the doctor, never. I had my difficult days with her, +but that was my business, and mine alone."</p> + +<p>"He must have been a careful and conscientious man," I said somewhat +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>She capped me by replying, "His accounts were regularly paid. Perhaps +that was sufficient for him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," I said, and I could not avoid a smile, though I was really +indignant. "Can you tell me anything more to guide me? Do you think it +was Mr. Carew's intention to keep his son in complete ignorance of +this misfortune, even after the death of your mistress?"</p> + +<p>"I am not positive. My master died during a visit to Wales, while my +mistress was still living. It is probable, had he survived his wife, +that he would have spoken to his son on the subject. I cannot say for +certain, but, from certain words he once used I believe he left some +record behind him."</p> + +<p>This suggestion aroused me.</p> + +<p>"Some written record?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Where would he have deposited it?"</p> + +<p>"In Rosemullion my master had his private room, into which no one was +allowed to enter. There are large safes built in the walls of that +room. If the record I believe my master made is found anywhere, it +will be in that room. I have nothing more to say, sir. I have told you +all I know. Whether you believe me or not does not concern me. When +you see Mr. Gabriel, sir, give him my humble duty."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.17" href="#ch2.17">XVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I returned to Rosemullion in a very disturbed frame of mind. The +nearer I approached the abode of mystery the stronger grew my doubts +of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement. All she had related was in +such complete accordance with a cunningly carried out scheme, whereby +the innocent were made to suffer, and she--the plotter--made +comfortable for life, that I accused myself for my egregious folly in +giving her story credence, and listening to it patiently. It was, +however, impossible to allow the matter to stand as Mrs. Fortress had +left it. Some further inquiry must take place, and my doubts cleared +up before I would give my consent to the union of my son with Gabriel +Carew's daughter. I did not dare to run a risk so great until my mind +was fairly at ease. It was a relief to me when I reached my home that +Reginald was not there to greet me. I knew what the tenor of his +conversation would be, and I wished to avoid it. He had, indeed, but +one theme: Mildred; his heart and soul were meshed in his absorbing +love for the fair girl to whom there was a likelihood of a most +terrible inheritance having been transmitted.</p> + +<p>I proceeded without delay to Rosemullion, and the first person who +greeted me on the threshold was Mrs. Carew. She expressed her +satisfaction at my return, and upon my inquiring for her husband, said +that he was in his study, but that before I saw him she wished to have +a few private words with me. It was then that I noted signs of trouble +in her face. She led me to the apartment which Gabriel Carew had +described as a sanctuary of rest, and at her bidding I sat down and +awaited the communication she desired to make to me.</p> + +<p>She commenced by saying that her husband had such complete confidence +in me and she such faith in my wisdom, that, having a weight at her +heart which was sorely disturbing her, she had resolved to ask my +advice, as a friend upon whom she could rely. I replied that her faith +and her husband's confidence were not misplaced, and that it was my +earnest wish to assist her if it lay in my power.</p> + +<p>"It is not without my husband's permission," she said, "that I am +speaking to you now. He knows that I am uneasy about him, and he +himself suggested that I should consult you upon your return from +Cornwall."</p> + +<p>I was startled at learning that she was not ignorant of my visit to +Mrs. Fortress; I imagined that the affair was entirely between me and +Mr. Carew. I asked her if she was acquainted with the precise object +of my visit.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied; "only that you have been on a visit to a nurse who +was in the service of my husband's family before the death of his +parents. I did not seek for further information, and my husband did +not volunteer any. Neither is he acquainted with the details of the +matter I am about to open to you. I thought it best to keep it from +him until I obtained counsel from a near and dear friend."</p> + +<p>I inclined my head, and she continued:</p> + +<p>"My husband informs me that he has related to you the fullest +particulars of his life, and that he has unbosomed himself to you with +an unreserved confidence, such as no other person in the world has +been able to inspire."</p> + +<p>"It is true," I said, "and I hold his confidence sacred, to be used +only for our good."</p> + +<p>"And for the good of our children," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, conscious of a strange note in my voice as I repeated +the words, "and for the good of our children."</p> + +<p>She detected the unusual note, gazed steadily at me for a moment, and +proceeded, without commenting upon it.</p> + +<p>"Knowing so much, you are familiar with my husband's nightly +wanderings in the woods when he resided here with his parents?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He was aware of these nocturnal rambles?" she said. "He undertook +them consciously?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?"</p> + +<p>"Always," I replied, surprised at the question.</p> + +<p>"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with +respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept +anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to +save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had +concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. +Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their +impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. +'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless +life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As +Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange +note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend."</p> + +<p>"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had +any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when +he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times +and under certain circumstances. He did so last night."</p> + +<p>"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason +for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would +have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so +disturbed me that I can no longer be silent."</p> + +<p>My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. +Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, +of his mother's disease.</p> + +<p>"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for +some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were +these circumstances of a special nature?"</p> + +<p>"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which +he feared danger."</p> + +<p>"To himself?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. To me and Mildred. I recall three occasions, which will +supply you with an index to the whole. Once there were reports in the +papers of a number of burglaries being committed in the neighbourhood, +accompanied by deeds of violence. The burglars--there were three, as +was subsequently proved--were at liberty, and the efforts made to +discover and arrest them met with no success for several weeks. During +that period my husband rose regularly every night from bed, dressed +himself, and went out of the house, always returning, dressed as he +left the room. On one of these occasions I followed and watched him, +and discovered that his aim was to guard us from danger. He remained +in the grounds around the house, holding a pistol. His actions were +those of an earnest, watchful guardian, and were guided by the most +singular caution. Sometimes he would hide behind a tree, or crouch +down, concealed from view. When he was satisfied that there was no +longer any danger, he returned to the house, stepping very softly, and +examining the fastenings of the doors and windows."</p> + +<p>"Did he rise in the morning with the appearance of a man who had +passed a disturbed night?"</p> + +<p>"No; he was always cheerful, and appeared to be quite refreshed by +what he believed to be a good night's rest. At length, when the +burglars were arrested he left the house no more for many months, +until a workman whom he had employed, and whom he had reason to +discharge, uttered threats against us. Then he again commenced his +nightly watch, which did not cease until he received information that +the man had left the country. After that he enjoyed a long period of +repose. The third occasion was when there was a report of the escape +of a dangerous madman from a lunatic asylum three or four miles from +Rosemullion. Until this man was once more in safe custody, my husband +never missed a night's watch during his sleep. You will gather from +this explanation that he was always actuated by a good motive--to +guard and protect those whom he loves."</p> + +<p>"That seems clear," I said, "and what you have related is especially +interesting to me as a specialist, apart from my sincere friendship +for you and yours."</p> + +<p>"As a specialist!" she exclaimed. "Of what kind?"</p> + +<p>Fortunately I arrested myself in time. The words which immediately +suggested themselves to me in reply, remained unspoken. The truth +would have been too great a shock to this sweet lady.</p> + +<p>"As one deeply interested," I answered, with an assuring smile, "in +psychological mysteries. What occurred yesterday to excite Mr. Carew?"</p> + +<p>"He and I had been out riding. Upon our return one of our gardeners +informed my husband that a man had been seen lurking about the +grounds. The story told by the gardener is this: The stranger, a +foreigner, although he spoke good English, did not wait to be accosted +by the gardener, but himself opened a conversation. He asked if this +was Rosemullion. Yes. Did a family of the name of Carew live here? +Yes. Was Mrs. Carew alive? Yes. Was Mr. Carew alive? Yes. Did they +have any family? Yes, a daughter. What was her name? Miss Mildred. +Could he see Mrs. Carew? Mrs. Carew was out driving. When would I +return, and was there any possibility of the stranger seeing me alone? +The gardener could not say. It was not I, but my husband who put these +questions to the gardener. Then Mr. Carew asked sternly what was the +bribe that induced the gardener to answer the inquiries of a stranger, +and he forced the truth from him. The stranger had given the gardener +a foreign coin, which my husband insisted upon seeing. It was a piece +of French money. This part of the affair is completed by the admission +of the gardener that the stranger was apparently in poverty, as his +poor clothes betokened--and yet he had given the gardener money to +answer his questions! When the gardener was gone my husband said that +the circumstance was very suspicious, and I thought so myself; that +the stranger had some bad motive in thus intruding upon private +property, and that he would go in search of him. I asked to be allowed +to accompany him, and after a slight hesitation he consented, saying +if the stranger came with innocent intent and we met him, that he +could say what he had to say to me in my husband's presence. We +strolled all round the grounds of Rosemullion, but saw no stranger. +Then my husband said he would go into the woods, and that I had better +leave him; but I, fearing I knew not what, begged to be allowed to +remain with him. Together we went into the woods, and for a long while +met no person answering the description given by the gardener; but +after a while we saw a stranger a few yards in front of us. It +happened that I was a little ahead of my husband at that moment, and +the stranger, turning and seeing me, thought that I was alone. He was +about to hasten towards me when my husband stepped to my side. Without +hesitation the stranger abruptly turned from us, and, plunging into +the woods, was immediately lost to view."</p> + +<p>Something in Mrs. Carew's manner at this point--which I should find it +difficult to explain--some premonition that this man she called a +stranger was really not so to her--caused me to ask,</p> + +<p>"You saw his face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." And at this answer, tremblingly spoken, my premonition became a +certainty.</p> + +<p>"You recognised it?"</p> + +<p>"Unless I am much mistaken--and with all my heart I pray to heaven I +may be!--it was a face once familiar to me."</p> + +<p>It was not now for me to pursue the subject; it was for her to confide +freely in me, if such was her desire. There was a silence of a few +moments before she resumed:</p> + +<p>"My husband, having hidden nothing from you, has told you all that +occurred in my dear native village, Nerac, before we were married?"</p> + +<p>"He has told me all, I believe," I said.</p> + +<p>"Of my beloved parents--of friends once dear to me--Eric, murdered, +and the unhappy Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with all the particulars of that tragic event."</p> + +<p>"Sadly changed, worn, haggard, and travel-stained, in the man we met +in the forest I recognised Emilius."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.18" href="#ch2.18">XVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">This, indeed, was startling news. Emilius alive, his term of +imprisonment over, or he an escaped convict, seeking an interview with +Mrs. Carew, the wife of the man whom he regarded as his bitterest +enemy! To what was this to lead?--in what way was it to end?</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Carew recognise him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," replied Mrs. Carew. "Not a word passed between us +respecting him. <i>I</i> did not dare to speak. It would but have been to +reopen old wounds, and after all I may have been mistaken. Not for me +to bring back to my husband the memories of a past in which he was so +cruelly misjudged. Besides, this was the one and only subject upon +which my husband and I were not in harmony. He most firmly believed +and believes in Emilius's guilt; I as firmly believed and believe in +his innocence. The years that have flown have not softened my +husband's judgment nor hardened mine; and until this hour the name of +Emilius has never passed my lips since we settled in Rosemullion. No, +it was not for me to utter it in my husband s presence; it was not for +me to bring pain to his kind heart. I said nothing, nor did my +husband, nor did he attempt to follow the stranger. In silence we +walked back to the house, and the evening passed as usual. Reginald +came, and we had music and conversation. On the part of Mildred and +your son converse was cheerful and unconstrained, and I also strove to +be cheerful. I was so far successful as to deceive the children, but +my husband was not so easily blinded. And yet he made no allusion to +the subject which engrossed my thoughts, and weighed like a dark cloud +upon my heart. The hour grew late, and I sent Reginald home. Young +people in love have always to be reminded. Then my husband and I +retired to rest. Troubled as I was, sleep was long in coming to me, +but at length Nature was merciful, and I sank into slumber. I awoke at +the soft chiming of our silver clock, proclaiming the hour of two. +Never do I remember being awoke by the chiming of this clock, so low +and sweet is it; and that I should awake now as it struck two may have +been simply a coincidence. I sat up in bed. I was alone. My husband +was not in the room; his clothes were gone, and he had doubtless gone +out fully dressed. In great fear I rose and dressed, with the +intention of following him, but when I tried the door I found it had +been locked on the outside. Powerless to do anything but wait, I sat, +trembling, till daylight began to peep in at the windows. Then I heard +my husband's footsteps in the passage, which would not have reached my +ears had not my senses been preternaturally sharpened. He trod softly, +and turned the key in the door very gently in order not to disturb me. +He entered the room, and I almost fainted as I saw in his hand the +bright blade of an ancient dagger which usually lay upon his study +table. His face was turned towards me, his eyes were open, but he did +not see me. He took from his pocket a sheath, in which he placed the +dagger, and then he undressed. Before he lay down to that more +healthful sleep in which his mind would be at rest, he listened two or +three times at the locked door, and going to the window, drew the +blind a little aside and looked from the window. Then he stretched +himself in bed, and his eyes closed. Not by the least sign did he show +any consciousness of the fact that I was standing, dressed, in the +room, and that we were often face to face. I soon retired to bed, but +I slept no more. I lay awake, listening to my husband's breathing, +praying for the hour to arrive at which we generally rose for the +day--praying for that, praying that the night would not come again, +praying for a friend to counsel me. It were vain for me to disguise +from you that I am in dread of what may happen should my husband and +Emilius meet. And there is still something more----"</p> + +<p>I waited, but she left the sentence uncompleted. Startled as I was by +what I had heard, I was even more startled to see this good and gentle +woman suddenly cover her face with her hands, and burst into a passion +of tears. I turned from her in commiseration, powerless to relieve or +console her. Even had I words at command, it was better that her grief +should be allowed to spend itself naturally. When she had recovered, I +asked,</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Carew made any reference to what passed in the night?"</p> + +<p>"Not any," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Did you?"</p> + +<p>"I simply asked him if he had slept well, and he answered 'Yes,' and +that his sleep had been dreamless."</p> + +<p>"Will you pardon me for the question whether you believe that to be +really so--whether his answer to your solicitous inquiry was not +prompted by his desire not to trouble or distress you?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain," said Mrs. Carew, "that my husband said what he +believes to be true. Dear friend, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>She seized my hand, and clung to it as though to me, and to me alone, +could she look for help in her sad position.</p> + +<p>"Does Mildred know anything, suspect anything?" I asked.</p> + +<p>What was the meaning of the timid, frightened, helpless look in her +eyes at the mention of Mildred's name? No mental efforts of mine could +fathom it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she replied, and then seemed to drift, against her will as +it were, into distressful thought. I devoted a few moments to +consideration, and when I spoke again had resolved upon a course of +action.</p> + +<p>"Would you wish me to become your guest for a few days?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, if you would!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I shall be willing if Mr. Carew has no objection. I will see him +presently and ascertain. But first I have a little scheme to carry out +which I think advisable for all our sakes."</p> + +<p>I asked her if I could write a letter in her room, and despatch it at +once to my house, and she opened her desk for me. My letter was to my +son Reginald, and the effect of it was to secure his absence from +Rosemullion during my stay in Mr. Carew's house. There was really a +matter of business which Reginald could attend to, and which rendered +it necessary for him to take his immediate departure for London. When +my letter was written, I explained its purport to Mrs. Carew, and she +acquiesced in the wisdom of my plan. She herself added a few words to +the letter, to the effect that she regretted not being able to see him +before he left, and that Mildred was well and sent her love. She gave +me a flower, and asked me to enclose it in the envelope.</p> + +<p>"He will think it comes from Mildred," she said, "and it will send him +away happy. It is an innocent deceit."</p> + +<p>The letter was despatched, and with a few assuring words to the sweet +woman, I went to her husband's study.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.19" href="#ch2.19">XIX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I observed a change in him. Something of his inner life was reflected +in his face, the expression upon which was stern and moody. It +softened a little when he shook me by the hand. I asked him if he was +well, and he answered yes, but troubled by a strange presentiment of +evil. He remarked that he was on the eve of momentous circumstances in +his life which boded ill. I did not encourage him to indulge in this +vein, but proceeded to relate as much of my interview with Mrs. +Fortress as I deemed it wise and necessary to impart. He listened to +me patiently and reflectively, and when I had finished, said:</p> + +<p>"You have given me food for reflection. I have in you a confidence so +perfect that I place myself unreservedly in your hands. I will be +guided completely by your counsels; my confidence in myself is much +shaken. What do you advise?"</p> + +<p>"This is the study," I said, "which your father used to occupy?"</p> + +<p>"It is," he replied; "and no person was allowed to enter it without +his permission."</p> + +<p>"After his death you searched in it for his private papers?"</p> + +<p>"I did, and found very little to satisfy me. I hoped to discover +something which would throw light upon the strange habits of our life +and home. I was disappointed."</p> + +<p>At my request he showed me the method by which the safe was opened, +and the ingenuity of the device caused me to wonder that he had found +nothing of importance within its walls. I was, however, convinced that +there was in the study some clue to the mystery of Carew's boyhood's +home--although I could not help admitting to myself that it needed but +faith in Mrs. Fortress's statement to arrive at a correct solution. +But I required further evidence, and I resolved to search for it.</p> + +<p>"As you have placed yourself in my hands," I said, "you will not +object to comply with two or three slight requests."</p> + +<p>"There is little you can ask," was his response, "that I am not ready +to accede to."</p> + +<p>"Invite me to remain here as your guest for a few days."</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to occupy this room alone until I retire to bed."</p> + +<p>"Willingly."</p> + +<p>"And promise me that you will not leave the house without first +acquainting me of your intention."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>A little while afterwards he left me to myself, saying that if I +wished to see him I should find him with his wife. When he revealed to +me the secret method by which the safe was worked, he did not close +the panel; it remained open for my inspection, and I now made an +examination of the interior without finding so much as a scrap of +paper. This was as I expected; if Gabriel Carew's father left +documents behind him, they must be searched for elsewhere. A careful +study of the room led me to the conclusion that the massive +writing-table was the most likely depository. The working of the safe +was a process much too tedious for a man who wished for easy access to +his papers; the writing-table offered the means of this, and I turned +my attention to it. I do not wish to be prolix, and I therefore omit a +description of the painfully careful examination of every point in +this massive piece of furniture. Suffice it that, after at least an +hour's search, my endeavours were rewarded. In one of the legs of the +table on the inner side, quite undiscoverable without a light, I felt +a depression just large enough to receive the ball of my thumb. I +pressed hard, and although there was no immediate result, I fancied I +detected a slight yielding, such as might occur when pressing upon a +firm spring which had been disused for many years. I pressed harder, +with all my strength, and I suddenly heard a sharp click. I found that +this proceeded from the skirting of oak immediately above the leg I +was manipulating. I had carefully examined the skirting all round the +table without being able to discover any signs of a drawer. Now, +however, one had started forward, and I had no difficulty in pulling +it open. My heart beat more quickly as I drew from it a manuscript +book and a few loose sheets of foolscap paper. The writing was large +and plain; ink of such a quality had been used that the lapse of years +had had but a slight effect upon it. In less than a minute I satisfied +myself that the handwriting was that of Gabriel Carew's father.</p> + +<p>The book first. I read it attentively through. It was a record of the +circumstances of the married life of Gabriel Carew's parents, and such +of it as bore upon Mrs. Fortress's statement confirmed its truth in +every particular. Before I came to the end of this record I heard +Gabriel Carew calling to me outside. I hastily concealed the book and +papers, and went to the door.</p> + +<p>"I would not come upon you unawares," he said, "but it has occurred to +me that to leave you even partially in the dark would not be +ingenuous, and might frustrate the end we both have in view. Before I +was married I wrote what may be regarded as a history of my life up to +that period. There are in it no reservations or concealments of any +kind whatever. Not alone my outer but my inner life is laid bare +therein; it is an absolutely faithful and truthful record. Since I +wrote the last words of this personal history I have not glanced at +it. I hand it now to you with one stipulation. So long as I am alive +you will not reveal what I have written. Should I die before you I +leave it to your discretion to deal with it as you please. Another +thing. I ought to more frankly explain why I put you in possession of +secrets which no man, unless under unusual and extraordinary +circumstances, would impart to another. I have been all my life +animated by a strong spirit of justice to others as well as to myself. +By this inclusion of myself I mean that I should be as ready to +condemn myself and to mete out to myself a penalty I may consciously +or unconsciously have incurred as I would to any ordinary person. I am +also animated by a sincere and devoted love for my wife and child. +Were I asked to express the dearest wish of my heart I should answer, +the wish for their happiness. But even this must not be purchased at +the expense of a possible wrong to another human being. There exists +between your son and my daughter an affection which has been allowed +to ripen into love. Whether we have been wise time will prove. You +have, equally with myself, the welfare of your child at heart. You +have doubts; let them be fully resolved. I need say no more than that +I am convinced that these feeble words of mine--which to strangers +would be inexplicable--will help us to understand each other."</p> + +<p>He left me alone once more, not waiting for me to speak, and I felt +for him as deep a sentiment of pity and admiration as had ever been +excited within me. He had also magnetised me into sharing his belief +that momentous circumstances were about to occur in his life which +would affect mine and my son's. It could not be otherwise in the light +of the love which Reginald bore for Mildred.</p> + +<p>I did not resume the perusal of the record made by Carew's father; I +held my curiosity in check both as regards that and what was written +on the two sheets of foolscap paper. Commencing to read the personal +history which Gabriel Carew had composed, I became so fascinated by it +that I could not leave it. Mrs. Carew sent to ask me to join them at +dinner, but I begged to be excused, and wine and food were brought to +me in the study. I remained there undisturbed, engrossed in Gabriel +Carew's narrative, and it was late in the night when I reached the +end. Then with feelings which it is impossible for me to describe, I +turned to the record made by Carew's father, and finished it. No +opinions were therein expressed; there was no indulgence in theory or +speculation; it was a simple statement of fact. The conclusions +arrived at by Carew's father were set down on the sheets of foolscap, +which next claimed my attention. They ran as follows:--</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.20" href="#ch2.20">XX.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"It is my intention, as an act of justice, before I die, to make my +son Gabriel acquainted with the mystery of my married life. It is due +to him and to myself that he should not pass his life in ignorance of +the sad events and circumstances which shadowed his home. The journal +which I have written, and in which he will find a record of facts, +will put him in possession of the melancholy circumstances of his +parents' lives. Without additional words from me he would understand +the explanation I have given, but something more is necessary from me +to him.</p> + +<p>"When I married his mother I had no knowledge that there was in her +blood an inherited disease. Had I suspected it I should not have +married her. It would have been a transgression against the laws of +God and man. To bring into the world human beings who are not +responsible for their actions, and who are driven to crime by the +promptings of a demoniac force born within them and growing stronger +with their own growth to strong manhood, is to be the creator of a +race of monsters. It matters not how fair and beautiful the outside +may be; simply to think of the evil forces sleeping within, urging to +sin and crime and cruelty, is sufficient to make a just man shudder. +Madness assumes many phases, but not one more dreadful than the phase +in which it presented itself in my wife's nature. Her conscious, +waking life was a life of gentleness and kindness; her unconscious, +sleeping life, but for the restraints I placed upon her, would have +been a life of crime. The fault was not hers, but it fell to her lot +to bear the burden of her curse. I, at least, by rendering her +existence a misery to herself and those around her, kept her free from +crime. One she committed before my eyes were opened, but its +consequences were not fatal. To this hour she does not know that she +attempted the life of a human being, and it is possible, because of my +treatment of her, that she thinks of me as a monster of cruelty. It is +for me to bear this burden, in addition to others which have come to +me unaware. I do not bemoan, but my life might have been bright and +honoured had I not married my wife. The one consolation I have is that +I have endeavoured to perform my duty. My son Gabriel must perform +his, though his heart bleed in its performance. Should the worst +befall, all that I can do is to implore his forgiveness for having +been the cause of his living. There have been times when I have +debated with myself whether it would not be the more merciful course +to put him out of the world, but I have never had the courage to +execute the sentence which my sense of stern justice dictated. There +is, however, one chance in life for him, although I most solemnly +adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with that of an +innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck the +sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror which +blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; not one +must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most +solemnly upon him; if he violate it he will be an incredible +monster--as I should have been had I married his mother knowing what +taint was in her blood. For his guidance I may say that I have +consulted the most eminent authorities in Europe, and this is their +verdict. Let him pay careful heed to it, for in my judgment it is +incontrovertible.</p> + +<p>"Reference to my journal will show him that the first visible +manifestation of his mother's disease was exhibited about five months +before he was born. We were then inhabiting a house in Switzerland, +and on the night her fatal inheritance took active shape and form we +had been entertaining a party of friends--one of whom was a foul +villain--and my wife had been singing many times a Tyrolean air of +which she was passionately fond. I copy the music of the air here, +praying to God that my son may not be familiar with it."</p> + +<p>(Here followed a few bars of music, which I had no doubt formed the +air to which Mrs. Fortress had referred in her statement, and mention +of which will also be found in the record of his life made by Gabriel +Carew.)</p> + +<p>"After the almost tragic events of that night my wife was continually +singing this air; I have heard her hum it in her sleep. When my son +was born she suckled the child--an error I deeply deplore. The +physicians I consulted are of one opinion. If my son Gabriel inherits +in its worst form his mother's disease, the ghost of this air will +haunt him from time to time. It may not be so clear to his senses that +he could sing it aloud, but he would indubitably recognise it if he +heard it by accident. It is for a test that I copy the music; it is +for my son to apply it. Should the air be entirely unfamiliar to him, +should it fail to recall any sensations through which he has passed, +the inheritance transmitted to him by his mother--if it ever assume +practical shape--will exhibit itself in a milder and less ruthless +form. The physicians aver that at some time or other, if Gabriel live +long, some such manifestation will most surely take place, and that if +it occur in its worst phase, the key-note to the occurrence may be +found in the affections.</p> + +<p>"This is as much as I can at present find strength to set down. I +shall take an opportunity to confer with my son upon this gloomy +matter, but I have a reluctance to approach the subject personally +with him during the lifetime of his mother. It will need an almost +superhuman courage on my part to speak of such a matter to my own son, +but I must nerve my soul to the task. If he reproach me, if he curse +me, I must bear it humbly. Once more I implore his forgiveness."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.21" href="#ch2.21">XXI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal +revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me +as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns. +Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's +daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable.</p> + +<p>The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the +chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I +been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I +heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one +creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study +door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the +caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The +moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door +Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were +open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so +intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers +were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements. +In his hand he held a dagger.</p> + +<p>His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed +to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He +paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he +crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his +unhappy inheritance.</p> + +<p>My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded +danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another +occurrence almost as startling.</p> + +<p>With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my +side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a +distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So +pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that +I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her.</p> + +<p>"You saw him?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside."</p> + +<p>He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within, +had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of +his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every +corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was +intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search, +he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to +the front door of the house.</p> + +<p>"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so +in your place."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a +man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!"</p> + +<p>"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the +sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door. +There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set +loose. What do you fear?"</p> + +<p>"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly +and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr. +Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited. +The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling +about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to +discover a means of entering it when we were asleep."</p> + +<p>"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the +information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius.</p> + +<p>To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he +is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a +fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out."</p> + +<p>"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he +is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is +no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go +down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my +sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!"</p> + +<p>She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may +be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of +exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak.</p> + +<p>"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to +serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all +to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see +before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his +sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain +at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened +the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no +moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he +took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left +the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been +unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from +the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone, +and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close +itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went +out into the open.</p> + +<p>I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special +precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on +his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense +excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was +impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to +learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I +contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me +that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not +stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision, +avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in +the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of +the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did +not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his +steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that +upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times +pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly +in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen +Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart, +and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his +bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of +this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking +moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with +the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind +the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had +consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take +its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was +demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home; +the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and +he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them, +animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his +enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had +taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent +maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice +had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a +terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a +horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him +nothing but compassion.</p> + +<p>For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his +foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were +present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however, +he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high, +was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing +his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed, +and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely +convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade +of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was +something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the +shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these +occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if +needed, and all would have been over.</p> + +<p>At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the +safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house.</p> + +<p>Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him, +but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a +dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to +precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in +the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest +space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and +closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned, +heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard +the chain put up. Then silence.</p> + +<p>What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into +the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought +exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for +daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the +thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read +loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which +Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden +emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at +the truth.</p> + +<p>"You are Emilius," I said.</p> + +<p>"I am Emilius," was his reply.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.22" href="#ch2.22">XXII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. He +had been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense of +self-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness. +He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmerited +suffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but it +had not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other men +who have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habits +foreign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid upon +him, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke him +gentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purpose +from which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him to +Rosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and his +family, it was necessary that I should learn its nature.</p> + +<p>"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?"</p> + +<p>"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, from +gentleman to gentleman."</p> + +<p>His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if I +was mocking him.</p> + +<p>"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend in +human form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I lay +concealed, I supposed you were both in league against me."</p> + +<p>"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is truly +my wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right."</p> + +<p>"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has not +embittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me to +disbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weaker +course. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, from +which I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass at +the present, but I have still sufficient for two months' dry +bread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal with +you as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension of +human signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know me +and perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helping +hand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offers +itself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once if +your intentions are not honest."</p> + +<p>"I will stay and prove myself," I said.</p> + +<p>"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while that +monster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, has +re-entered his house?"</p> + +<p>"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it, +but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made no +movement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot."</p> + +<p>"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As I +have told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I am +without a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked a +conflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me. +My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, might +with little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that without +scruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here an +errand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settle +with him; but there is something of even greater weight to be +accomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word was +relied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you I +ask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concert +at such an hour?"</p> + +<p>"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not see +me; he was not aware of my presence."</p> + +<p>Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?"</p> + +<p>"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet it +would be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present let +the matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper your +judgment."</p> + +<p>"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The dead +cannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiend +ever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of your +connection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answer +yours freely."</p> + +<p>"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by ties +of affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotless +purity."</p> + +<p>"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love a +brother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation of +innocence and goodness."</p> + +<p>"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now your +pity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge."</p> + +<p>"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, that +brought me here. But you have not completed your explanation."</p> + +<p>"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Love +grew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!"</p> + +<p>He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavy +sobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. I +turned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumed +the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You seem to know the story of my life."</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with it."</p> + +<p>"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul and +condemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. I +call Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I be +cursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn from +me, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before you +an innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murderer +lives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother was +not the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac, +whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another man +was murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade suffered +the penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do not +question the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason these +atrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smite +the guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turned +blasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is, +I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like a +man. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which I +cannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping in +the dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, of +all men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale, +for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mystery +which the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extends +even to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster's +guilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter into +my feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of my +imprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. I +could not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Night +after night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to my +murdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayer +was answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as I +assume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brother +Kristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So was +it, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthday +anniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon my +soul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did not +speak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him in +the forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deep +anguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe. +In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to be +not less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and he +knelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towards +him stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, I +beheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shone +upon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fell +intent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother, +but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter a +sound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer, +noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracked beneath his feet; all +nature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed about +to be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours, +until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. He +raised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment he +paused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel, +devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric's +back, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, as +the knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brother +was dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through the +woods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dream +was at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithful +presentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerful +than human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of a +delusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might be +supposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself upon +the murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for another +purpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and to +stain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Having +heard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you have +promised?"</p> + +<p>"I will do my best, if my judgment approves."</p> + +<p>"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs. +Carew--<i> must!</i> There is a matter between us which must be cleared up +before another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand is +not one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from my +lips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She will +understand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me. Will you do this?"</p> + +<p>"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his head +bespoke the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on my +guard. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it with +his, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself.</p> + +<p>I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers-- +unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my way +to the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room to +meet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered,</p> + +<p>"My husband is there."</p> + +<p>"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius, +forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secret +drawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass the +study on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I did +not dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he is +asleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table, +with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was Gabriel +Carew, in a profound slumber.</p> + +<p>"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followed +me into the room, "until late in the day."</p> + +<p>"Leave us together," I said.</p> + +<p>She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and the +papers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrasted +with an expression of resolution and content. What this portended I +had yet to learn.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.23" href="#ch2.23">XXIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered the +promise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirred +from the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I made +a gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had found +in the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplished +without violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind that +he had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he had +formed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intention +of fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements, +and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone I +made her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and I +perceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for an +interview. When I repeated to her Emilius's words, "Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me," she clasped her hands across her eyes, and +remained so for a little while.</p> + +<p>"It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly she +could not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must see +him."</p> + +<p>"When?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time to +reflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care."</p> + +<p>She pointed to the study in which her husband slept.</p> + +<p>"You understand that he is determined to see you before another day +and night have passed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand."</p> + +<p>"How is Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. +She suspects nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her +voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but +knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy +punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting +right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes."</p> + +<p>She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the +study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without +observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of +embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. +I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. +Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it +was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell +asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I +awoke.</p> + +<p>Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes.</p> + +<p>"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly +exhausted."</p> + +<p>"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at +lightness. "Have you been awake long?"</p> + +<p>"For some hours," he replied.</p> + +<p>I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed +the direction of mine, and he nodded gently.</p> + +<p>"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in +occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to +a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. +"Eat," he said; "you must be hungry."</p> + +<p>I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself +drank two glasses.</p> + +<p>"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb +of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which +created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a +devil? Have you finished?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not +remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, +torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end."</p> + +<p>"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew +left the house during the time I have slept?"</p> + +<p>"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." +He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here +yesterday, you discovered these?"</p> + +<p>"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to +read."</p> + +<p>"You have read it?"</p> + +<p>"Every word."</p> + +<p>"Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had he +dealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have been +averted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vain +regrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you. +Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to you +last night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolute +frankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I am +animated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lighter +sentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has the +misfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and complete +love. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, and +yet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all."</p> + +<p>I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully, +mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--his +leaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him to +prevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movements +in his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strange +intelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements, +fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, my +discovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into the +study, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I had +found in the secret drawer.</p> + +<p>He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by a +word. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approached +Emilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured the +murder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denote +agitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius's +desire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason for +it? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerful +reason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England for +the special purpose of the interview.</p> + +<p>"I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew, +"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, should +scout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me to +doubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it."</p> + +<p>"How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If you +think of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touch +you."</p> + +<p>"From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "I +became a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether you +believe me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me as +a monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe; +and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone, +but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. My +father wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavoured +to perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was to +enlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to the +nature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have done +what it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not the +courage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of a +pure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease of +insanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in human +beings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task to +find doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside the +sufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own or +any man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as a +lake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am another +being. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to my +door? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the law +is satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward and +say, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, and +he will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You saw +me last night prowling round my house in search of whom? In search of +an enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured the +punishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved to +have committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. So +sensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that even +in my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, no +voice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded, +praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded with +loathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me? +Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroy +them while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It would +be a simple safeguard."</p> + +<p>As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silence +listening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; it +was calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there was +no deviation from this aspect of absolute composure.</p> + +<p>"What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' I +most solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with +that of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck +the sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror +which blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; +not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction +most solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incredible +monster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the written +pages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof how +deeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatal +confession.</p> + +<p>"Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in his +duty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand the +mystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not kill +me? God and man would have applauded the deed."</p> + +<p>Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what he +had to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was I +by this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silence +enabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself.</p> + +<p>"You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house. +Then she has not seen Emilius?"</p> + +<p>"No. She will see him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquaint +him with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew."</p> + +<p>"Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there will +be no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so many +years. His mission cannot be so urgent."</p> + +<p>"He declares it is."</p> + +<p>"He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, to +denounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is the +joy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from a +pestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is not +content, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You can +assure him of my honesty in this."</p> + +<p>"You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that his +errand was not one of revenge."</p> + +<p>"He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview with +her. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she would +not see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that I +have pronounced judgment upon myself."</p> + +<p>I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decision +there was no gainsaying.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.24" href="#ch2.24">XXIV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I have omitted to mention that a letter was delivered to me from my +son Reginald. It was written in London, almost immediately upon his +arrival there. There were in it about twenty words in relation to the +business I had entrusted to him, for the purpose of securing his +absence; the remaining three and a half pages were filled with +rhapsodies upon Mildred. It was Mildred, Mildred, nothing and nobody +but Mildred. She was the light of his life, the hope, the joy of it; +nothing else but Mildred was worth living for. Not even I, his old +father, who never thought, who never would think, any sacrifice too +great to make for his son's happiness. I did not complain, and I do +not; it is the way of things, and we old ones must stand aside, and be +humbly grateful that we are allowed to witness the happiness which we +have done our utmost to bring about. Not that this was the case with +Reginald and myself. The duty devolving upon me was to prevent, not to +assist in, the accomplishment of his dearest hopes. How would the lad +take it? Would he look upon me as his enemy? Would he thrust me aside, +and rush wildly to a fate I shuddered even to contemplate? Would not +the example before him serve as a warning? I could not say. The more I +thought of the matter the more disturbed I became. Certainly, he could +not marry Mildred without Carew's consent, and that, I knew, would be +withheld. The true story of her husband's life could not be concealed +from the knowledge of Mrs. Carew; and knowing it, she would not allow +Mildred to wed. If necessary, Mildred herself must be told how +impossible it was that she should ever think of marriage, and she +would refuse my son. And Reginald's heart would be broken! Of that I +was convinced. It would be a blow from which he would never recover.</p> + +<p>These were my reflections as I went out into the grounds of +Rosemullion to seek Emilius. I had not long or far to seek. Near the +copse in which he was concealed the previous night he suddenly +presented himself.</p> + +<p>"I have been looking and waiting for you all day," he said. "Can you +realise the torture I am suffering?"</p> + +<p>I did not answer his question, but gave him an account of what I had +done, and then I conveyed Gabriel Carew's message to him.</p> + +<p>"To wait till to-morrow!" Emilius exclaimed. "He asks, he implores me +to wait till then?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," I said. "It seems to me not unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"It seems to you--it seems to you!" he repeated, in petulant +excitement; and the next moment begged my pardon for speaking so to +me, who had proved myself his friend. "But you do not know this +fiend--you do not know of what he is capable! You believe what I have +told you of the eternal wrong he has inflicted upon me--a wrong for +which he can never hope to be forgiven in this world or the next. You +believe it, and yet you say he is justified in asking me to wait till +he has had time to carry out the secret design he has formed to +prevent me from obtaining justice! You believe it, and yet you justify +him! O God in Heaven! Is there, has there ever been, justice on earth? +And I am to wait, who have waited for twenty years, who have suffered +unjustly for twenty years! And I am to stand aside while he completes +his work and dashes the cup of happiness from my lips! No! Again and +again, no! This night is my limit. Before it passes I will see Mrs. +Carew, and she shall right me. You can tell this to the monster yonder +who has juggled you so successfully."</p> + +<p>I endeavoured to argue, to reason with him, but he would not listen to +me. So I left him, his last words being that nothing on earth should +move him from his resolve.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.25" href="#ch2.25">XXV.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me +with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the +little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with +her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carew was alone.</p> + +<p>"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not +disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to +come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience +till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for +it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it +should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been +praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our +courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr. +Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to +church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do +not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed +when you left him?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he +did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be +the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty +to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence."</p> + +<p>"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me +voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good. +He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never +arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way +discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night +and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor +Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done +that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely +knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange +one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft +air blowing, and the night is fine."</p> + +<p>"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject.</p> + +<p>She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the +air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is +always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should +impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be +so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he +will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night +you will counsel, you will advise me?"</p> + +<p>"Command me entirely," I said.</p> + +<p>"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be +quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and +is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I +winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my +acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a +marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused +Mrs. Carew to call "Come in."</p> + +<p>A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress.</p> + +<p>"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam," replied the servant.</p> + +<p>"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys."</p> + +<p>When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she +wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied +her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and +peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his +features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some +fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone +through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before +realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips, +the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual +power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or +wavering. He was a man capable of a great career.</p> + +<p>"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind +was the most comprehensive he had ever met with."</p> + +<p>She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing +him. We trod gently out of the room.</p> + +<p>"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's +room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door.</p> + +<p>"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma. I shall be, soon."</p> + +<p>"Don't remain up too long, my dear."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mildred."</p> + +<p>"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child!"</p> + +<p>"I have just given Reginald your love."</p> + +<p>"That is right, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And I have told him not to remain away too long."</p> + +<p>"That is right, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Good night, dearest mamma."</p> + +<p>"Good night, my dearest."</p> + +<p>"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for +the hopes of that young girl!"</p> + +<p>In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her +husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys +given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power +to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his +thought."</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.26" href="#ch2.26">XXVI.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">I relate in my own words the strange story Mrs. Carew imparted to me. +Although she had erred, her confession was like a rift of sweet light +in the dark clouds which hung over Rosemullion. It brought more than +hope and comfort to my old heart--it brought joy. In a very few +moments you will understand the meaning of my words.</p> + +<p>Transport yourself back to the village of Nerac, a year after the +marriage of Lauretta and Gabriel Carew. Business of a particular +nature took Carew from Nerac for a space of three months; he was +absent that time, much against his will, for his wife was near her +confinement. This took place safely two weeks after his departure, and +he was duly informed of the event. All was well at home; Lauretta and +her baby girl were thriving. The days and the weeks passed until two +months went by. Carew, in his letters to his wife, expressed the +profoundest joy at this precious home blessing. Smarting as he was +during that period from the growing coldness of the villagers towards +him, and chafing at the injustice of the world, he placed an +extravagant value upon this baby girl, who would be, he said, a charm +against all evil. He longed for the time when he could hold this +blessing in his loving arms; now his happiness was complete; he asked +for no greater treasure. In the growth and development of the new +young life he would find solace and consolation. His wife was enjoined +to take the most tender care of their child. "You and she are one," +Carew wrote. "Each is incomplete without the other. I cannot think of +you now apart. Were I to lose one my life would be plunged into +darkness." Then befel an event which brought horror and grief to +Lauretta. It happened that her nurse had fallen sick, and was +compelled to go to her own home; there was no other female servant in +the establishment capable of undertaking a nurse's duties, and +Lauretta therefore took them cheerfully on herself. Two months, as I +have said, had passed after the birth of the baby girl. Carew was +expected home in a fortnight.</p> + +<p>In the dead of night, when all in the house were asleep, with the +exception of Lauretta, she, watching by the cradle of her baby, heard +a sound of moaning without. She listened intently; it was her own name +that she heard uttered in accents of deepest pain and suffering. It +was a wild night; heavy rain was falling, the wind was raging; and +through the sounds of the storm came the wailing of her name, with +half-choked sobs and entreaties for help and pity.</p> + +<p>It was but an hour before that Lauretta, awaking, had heard proceed +from her baby-girl lying in the cradle by her bedside, some light +sounds of difficult breathing which had alarmed her. She got up and +dressed, and tended her baby, who, after a while, seemed a little +easier; but with the natural anxiety of a young mother Lauretta +remained awake watching her child.</p> + +<p>The moans for help outside appeared to be especially addressed to her +and to her alone, and she seemed to recognise the voice. She crept +softly down, and unfastened the door.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" she asked, during a lull in the storm.</p> + +<p>The answer came--"Patricia! Help me! Oh help me, and let no one know!"</p> + +<p>It was Emilius's wife.</p> + +<p>Lauretta assisted her indoors. The poor girl was in a pitiable plight. +Famished, ragged, penniless, with a baby in her arms. Both were +wringing wet. The pelting rain had soaked them through and through.</p> + +<p>Throbbing with sympathy and compassion Lauretta quickly undressed +Patricia's baby, and put it in her own warm bed. They had by this time +reached Lauretta's bedroom, in which her own child was lying. Lauretta +wished to call the servants, but Patricia sobbed that she would fly +the house if any eyes but Lauretta's rested on her. It appeared, +according to the poor girl's story, that her father was in pursuit of +her, and had vowed to kill her and her baby.</p> + +<p>"He will kill me--he will kill me!" moaned Patricia. "No one must know +I have been here but you--no one, no one!"</p> + +<p>And then she rocked herself hysterically and cried, "What will become +of my poor baby-girl--what will become of her? I heard that your +husband was not here, and it gave me courage to crawl to you. Not that +it matters much. It isn't for myself I care. My father may kill me--I +have not long to live--but my baby, my baby! Oh, save my darling, save +her for the sake of my innocent Emilius!"</p> + +<p>It was then that Lauretta noticed for the first time, signs in +Patricia's face which, interpreted by her fear and the poor girl's +words, seemed to be signs of approaching death. And still Patricia +insisted that she would not remain in the house; no force or +entreaties could make her.</p> + +<p>"What, then, can I do for you?" asked Lauretta; she had already given +Patricia food and money.</p> + +<p>"Take care of my child," replied Patricia. "Bring her up as your own. +Let her never know her father's disgrace, her mother's shame. It will +be an angel's deed! For pity's sake, do not deny me! You are rich, and +can afford the charity--and if, in your husband's life there has been +guilt, this act of charity will atone for it. See here--look on her +innocent face. Having the power, you have not the heart to deny me. +Ah, if your angel mother were alive, I should appeal to her, and +should not appeal in vain! She loved Emilius, and believed in his +innocence--yes, to the last she believed in it. I know it for a +certainty. You, too, loved my poor martyred husband, and he loved and +honoured you and yours with all the strength of his faithful heart. He +is innocent, innocent, I tell you! God forbid that I should accuse any +one of being guilty--I am too desperate and despairing, and my child's +life, the salvation of her soul, are at stake. When your sainted +mother died, did all goodness die out of the world? Ah, no--it is not +possible; you live again in her. In you she lives again, and all her +mercy and sweet kindness which caused us all, from the highest to the +lowest, to worship her, to look upon her as something holy. For her +sake, if not for my own, you cannot, cannot deny me this charity, you +who have it in your power to grant it!"</p> + +<p>All this, and more. To say that Lauretta's heart was touched is +inadequate; it overflowed; it yearned to assist the suffering mother, +so near to her through her young motherhood, through the old ties with +Emilius and Eric. A choking cry from her own baby-girl caused her to +rush to the cradle. Within the hour a fatal circumstance occurred. +Lauretta's baby drew her last breath.</p> + +<p>It has nearly all my days been my belief that everything in human life +is to be accounted for by human standards. I am shaken in this belief. +In this death of Lauretta's baby I seem to see the finger of fate.</p> + +<p>Vain to attempt to describe the agonising grief of the young mother. +So overpowering was it that she lost consciousness. She recovered her +senses when the storm had passed and the morning's light was shining +on her. When she awoke to reality, what did she see?</p> + +<p>Her husband had suddenly and unexpectedly returned home. She was in +bed, and he was sitting by her side.</p> + +<p>"Gabriel, Gabriel!" she cried, and, overcome by the terror of her +great loss, she would have lost consciousness again but for an +unaccountable joyousness in his manner, which mingled strangely with +the sympathy he must have felt for her suffering condition.</p> + +<p>"It was, doubtless, the storm," he said soothingly. "It raged so +fiercely for an hour and more, that I am told it exceeded in violence +anything of a like kind that has been experienced in these parts for +the last fifty years. No wonder it has had such an effect upon you. +Half the trees in our garden are uprooted. It hastened my steps home, +for I know how these convulsions of nature affect you. But as you see, +the danger has passed; the sun is shining brightly; but not more +brightly in the heavens than it is shining in my heart."</p> + +<p>She listened to him in amazement, and raising herself in bed she +looked around for Patricia. She saw no sign of the hapless woman. The +cradle in which her baby-girl had died was by the side of the bed. +Carew bent over it and said in a tone of ecstasy:</p> + +<p>"Mildred--Mildred! Our Mildred--our dear ewe lamb! How sweetly and +soundly she sleeps! Oh, my darling wife! What care I for the injustice +of the world now that this treasure is ours? My sweet--my sweet! You +recompense for all. Do you know, Lauretta, as travelling home I neared +the beloved spot which contained you and our treasure, my heart almost +stood still at the fear that I should not find you both well. And +now--how can I be sufficiently grateful? Of no account to me is all +that transpires outside the circle which contains you and my dear one +in the cradle here? I set great store upon our child, Lauretta. She is +to me a guarantee of all that is worth living for in the present and +the future. When I arrived home and found you prostrate I was at first +overwhelmed, but I soon discovered that you had fainted, and I judged +rightly, did I not, dear wife of my heart, that, not being strong, you +kept it from me while we were apart, in order not to distress me? But +now all is well--all shall be well. See, Lauretta, she opens her eyes, +our darling. The question is, can I raise her safely and place her by +your side? Yes, it is done, and I am the happiest father in the +world!"</p> + +<p>Was she dreaming? In the clothes in which her child died rested this +child of Patricia's, smiling, blooming, laughing and crowing as +Lauretta drew her to her breast. Carew's delight, his gratitude, his +worship of the babe he believed to be his own, the superstitious store +he set upon her young life, were so unbounded, that Lauretta did not +dare to undeceive him. She feared, if she told him the truth, that it +would unsettle his reason, and produce between her and him a gulf +which could never be bridged over. She accepted the strange +combination of circumstances, and held her tongue. Her own dear babe +was dead, but this new Mildred, whom she grew to love truly as if she +were her own, remained, and grew to what she is, a flower of beauty, +goodness, and sweetness. Nothing more did Lauretta hear of Patricia; +whether she died or lived was not known to her. It is but a +detail--but necessary to complete the story--to state here that +Patricia lived but a few months after the occurrence of this strange +event. More important is it to state that, in some unexplained way, +Emilius learns that his daughter lived, and that the Carews were +bringing her up as if she were a child of their own. His term of +imprisonment over, he had come now to claim her.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible for me to give expression to my feelings of +gratitude at this wonderful revelation. The despair into which I had +fallen at the contemplation of the wrecking of my dear son Reginald's +happiness vanished. A fair future lay still before him, and the most +cherished hopes of his heart would be realised. I was sure that +Emilius would not mar them. A nature so noble as his, so strong in +suffering, so heroic in the highest form of human endurance, could not +lend itself to the committal of a petty act of selfishness whereby the +child upon whose memory he had lived during his cruel and unjust +imprisonment would be rendered miserable and unhappy. To this martyred +man I was ready to bow my head, ready to give him my friendship, my +sympathy, my heart's best fruits of confidence and esteem. Thinking of +him, I was awed that a man could live through the anguish that had +been his portion, and still retain the inherent dignity and nobility +of a great and noble nature.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.27" href="#ch2.27">XXVII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">"Hark!" whispered Mrs. Carew, her story told, and before we had time +to debate upon the wisest course to pursue. "What sound is that?"</p> + +<p>It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In this sound there was +no attempt at concealment. The footsteps were those of one who desired +his presence to be known. I divined instantly who it was who, by some +means unknown to me, obtaining an entrance into the house, was now +approaching the room in which Mrs. Carew and I were sitting. I could +not, and did not blame him. In his place I should have acted as he was +acting.</p> + +<p>The silver clock chimed the hour of twelve.</p> + +<p>"You will see him," I said, rising to my feet and advancing to the +door.</p> + +<p>"See whom?" asked Mrs. Carew, with her hand at her heart.</p> + +<p>"Emilius. It is he and no other man who is coming here. He has a great +stake in this house. He is justified."</p> + +<p>"My husband?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Is safe, if you will only be guided by me. It is your duty to be +brave and strong. Never was courage more needed than at this moment. +And not only courage, but wisdom. Decide quickly. There is no time to +lose."</p> + +<p>"I will be guided by you," she said faintly.</p> + +<p>I threw open the door, and saw Emilius standing in the passage, +uncertain which direction to take.</p> + +<p>"Enter," I said in a low tone. "Mrs. Carew is here. For the sake of +others be gentle, and do not alarm the house."</p> + +<p>He entered, and Mrs. Carew and he stood face to face.</p> + +<p>The native dignity of the man instantly asserted itself. He removed +his ragged cap and stood bareheaded before her. But there was no +cringing in his attitude. It was perfectly respectful--something, +indeed, more than that; it was the attitude of a man who once was this +sweet lady's equal, and who, despite the judgment of the world, still +knew himself to be her equal, and worthy of the esteem she once +accorded to him. But as he gazed upon her, and she upon him, in +silence for a few moments--a silence which I did not dare to +break--his stern mood melted. He saw and recognised her, as he had +always seen and recognised her in the time that was gone, when he was +entitled to hold up his head among men--but never more so in truth and +honour than now--a gentle-mannered lady, in whose face shone the +reflex of a sweet and womanly nature. Remembrances of the past rushed +upon him and softened him.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>And then--tears filled my eyes as I saw it, and knew the suffering she +was bravely enduring--she held out her hand to him. He bowed his head +over it, as for a moment he held it in his.</p> + +<p>"I could not wait any longer," he said, softly. "I have entered like a +thief into your house--but I have waited so long!"</p> + +<p>"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," she said. "Emilius, be +merciful to me and mine!"</p> + +<p>"I have no thought of revenge," he said, in a voice as soft as her +own. "I am a broken-down man, with one sole hope. But I could not +stand before you, the Lauretta I loved with the pure love of a +brother, if I did not know myself unstained by crime or any taint of +dishonour."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Emilius," she said.</p> + +<p>"You believe me, Lauretta!" he exclaimed, advancing a step towards +her.</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Emilius," she repeated.</p> + +<p>Had he come with savage intent she could not more surely have disarmed +him.</p> + +<p>"It is more than I dared hope for," he said. "How often, Lauretta, in +the gloom of my prison, have I thought of you and your dear parents, +of the home of innocence and love in which I was ever a welcome guest, +of the once happy village in which I was honoured and respected. Some +crumbs of comfort fell to my lot, some gleam of light shone through +the darkness. Had it not been so, and had I not been animated by +another hope, I might have gone mad. Good Father Daniel visited me +regularly, at permitted intervals, until he died. He had the firmest +faith in my innocence, and he brought me messages which fell like +heavenly balm upon my wounded spirit. Your sainted mother believed in +my innocence, and she bade him tell me so, and that her love for me +was unchanged. And now, you! But your mother's soul shines in your +eyes. It could not have been otherwise." He paused a moment or two, +reflecting what to say. "On one of Father Daniel's visits he brought +me a letter, securely sealed. It was against the prison rules, but +that did not deter him from doing what he deemed to be right. I +hastily concealed it, noting first, however, with a beating heart, +that it was addressed to me in my wife's handwriting. I asked him if +he knew what it contained, and he answered 'No;' and then, with a +grave face, he bade me prepare for solemn news. I felt at once what +was coming. Can you divine my purpose, Lauretta, in telling you this?"</p> + +<p>"I think I can," she replied. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"It was while the good priest was on a mission of mercy that a +villager came to him and said that in a hut hard by a woman was dying, +and, hearing that he was in the neighbourhood, begged him to come to +her. Father Daniel went, and discovered that the woman was Patricia, +my wife. She was very near to death, and she had only strength to +entreat him to deliver to me, secretly, a letter she had written. He +promised to do so, and in a few minutes after he received it from her +she drew her last breath. Before she died he asked her after her +babe--for Patricia was quite alone--but she did not seem to understand +him. Subsequently, however, he learnt from the villager that Patricia +had said her baby was dead. This was the mournful news which Father +Daniel conveyed to me in prison. Despite his attempts at consolation, +I felt when he left me that I was truly alone in the world. Brother, +wife, child, all dead! I prayed to God to send death to me soon. +What had I to live for? But there was my wife's letter, and before +twenty-four hours had passed I found an opportunity to read it. +Lauretta, that letter informed me what had become of my child, and it +laid upon me an obligation of secrecy for so long a time as I was in +prison. Patricia solemnly adjured me not to breathe to a living soul +that our child lived in your care; but I was to be released from this +obligation when I was a free man. Then I was to act as it seemed to me +right to act. Is there any need, Lauretta, for me to enter more fully +into the particulars of Patricia's letter?"</p> + +<p>"There is no need, Emilius."</p> + +<p>"Except, perhaps, to say that when you were lying senseless before +her, and your tender blossom lay dead in its cradle, it was only then +that the idea entered Patricia's mind of changing the children's +clothes, and leaving her baby with you. It was done, and Patricia +stole away with your dead child at her breast, herself to die, as she +well knew, before many weeks had passed. I have something to tell you, +Lauretta"--and here Emilius's voice was charged with a new note of +tenderness. "When Father Daniel next visited me I begged him to +discover where the dead babe was buried, and to put a few flowers on +the grave. The good priest did more. He paid a village woman to attend +to it, and he left a small sum of money to be spent in beautifying the +grave of your child. Flowers have grown upon it and around it from +that day to this. I visited the grave before I set forth on my journey +here, and I knelt and prayed there. I prayed a blessing upon you, +Lauretta, and I prayed that I might live to see the hope fulfilled +which shone like a star upon me through the long years of my prison +life. Lauretta," he cried, stretching forth his trembling hands, "my +child--my child"--</p> + +<p>"She lives," sobbed Mrs. Carew, "in goodness, health, and beauty--a +flower of sweetness!"</p> + +<p>He fell upon his knees before her, and kissed her dress, and it was +then I heard a sound without which, for a moment, transfixed me with +terror. They, overwhelmed by emotion, were deaf to this sound. It was +that of a man creeping stealthily from his chamber--and that man +Gabriel Carew. Quickly recovering myself, and feeling the necessity +for immediate and prompt action, I addressed Emilius and Mrs. Carew.</p> + +<p>"Attend to me," I said impressively. "All is well with you. You, +Emilius, have gained a daughter, and will embrace her at sunrise. You, +dear lady, have not lost a daughter, for Mildred will be to you as she +has ever been. I have proved myself your friend. Answer quickly--have +I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," they both replied.</p> + +<p>"Do not, therefore, ask me for the reasons for my present action. I +demand from you both a sacred promise--that you will not leave this +room till I call for you, till I give you permission. It shall be +given at the latest by sunrise. I must have this promise--I must!"</p> + +<p>My voice, my manner, Mrs. Carew's fears for her husband, and +confidence in me, compelled assent.</p> + +<p>"We give it," she said.</p> + +<p>"We give it," said Emilius.</p> + +<p>"I accept it, and bind you to it. What I do is for the good of +all--for your future, for Mildred's future--and to avert disaster. +Only I can do this. Whatever you hear, you will not open this door +without my permission, after I leave it. When I am gone, turn the key, +and admit no one unless I desire it. It is understood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," they said, "it is understood."</p> + +<p>As I closed the door behind me I heard the key turned in the lock.</p> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top:4em"><a name="chapter2.28" href="#ch2.28">XXVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="p2">The sound of soft footsteps proceeded, as I supposed, from Gabriel +Carew, but to my surprise he was not coming towards the room I had +just left, but was stealthily ascending the stairs which led to +Mildred's room. His eyes were open, and his movements were dictated by +intelligent caution, but he was asleep. In his left hand he carried +the naked dagger.</p> + +<p>I ran up the stairs softly and swiftly, heedless of danger to myself, +and walked by his side. He took no notice of me. Standing by the door +of Mildred's room he paused, and was about to put his hand to the +handle when I seized his wrist.</p> + +<p>"What are you about to do?" I whispered, my lips close to his ear. +"Speak low, the house must not be disturbed."</p> + +<p>To my horror, he replied, in a whisper as low and distinct as my own: +"'Our race must die with him; not one must live after him to +perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most solemnly upon him; if he +violate it he will be an incredible monster.'"</p> + +<p>They were the words written by his father which he had already quoted +to me earlier in the day.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter is not in that room," I said, not raising my voice, +grateful that we had as yet attracted no notice. "If you enter, your +purpose will be frustrated."</p> + +<p>"Who speaks to me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The spirit of murder," I said. "The Devil who is leading your soul to +perdition. Come with me. I will direct you aright."</p> + +<p>He shuddered, but he did not hesitate. With my hand still firmly +grasping his wrist, he allowed me to lead him from the room. We +descended the stairs, slowly, stealthily, until we reached the landing +upon which the study was situated. I led him into the room, and with +lightning motion locked the door and plucked out the key. Then, +uncertain how next to act, I took my hand from his wrist, and +retreated a few steps. He, also, was now uncertain of his movements. +He stood still a while, then tried the door, and finding it fast, took +some halting steps this way and that, and finally fell into the chair +in which he had been accustomed to write.</p> + +<p>As I gazed upon him I was sensible of a gradual change in his +appearance. A pallor crept into his face, a film seemed to come across +his eyes. Alarmed, I grasped his shoulder with rough strength, and +shook him violently.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carew!" I called.</p> + +<p>He trembled in every limb, closed his eyes, and clasped them with his +hands--in one of which he still held the dagger. Presently he removed +his hands from his face, and looked confusedly at me.</p> + +<p>"Are you awake?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied faintly. "Give me a glass of water."</p> + +<p>I gave him a full glass, and he drained it. I observed as he did so +that it was only by an effort he prevented it from slipping from his +hand. Then he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"How came I here?" he asked. "Skilful as you are in your profession, +you can do nothing for me. How came I here?"</p> + +<p>"I conducted you hither," I said, "from the door of Mildred's room. +You have a dagger in your hand."</p> + +<p>Until this moment he seemed to be unconscious that he held the weapon, +and now he started and allowed it to drop to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Give thanks to God," I said solemnly, "that I stepped forward in time +to save the life of an innocent child."</p> + +<p>"Great God!" he murmured. "It is fit that I should die!"</p> + +<p>The silver chimes of the clock proclaimed the hour of two. He smiled +piteously and gratefully, and said, "It is almost time."</p> + +<p>"There is a hidden meaning in your words," I said. "What have you +done?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor, you are wrong. There is no hidden meaning in my words. All is +clear and plain. What should I do to myself? What should be done to +such a man as I? You are not deceiving me. You found me, you say, at +the door of my daughter's room, with the dagger in my hand?"</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"Then my purpose was murder. What further confirmation is needed of +the truth of my father's revelation? Be thankful, doctor, that your +son Reginald has escaped from my daughter, my miserable, unhappy +child. Ah, me! Whose fate is the heaviest, hers or mine, or the +innocent flower I married?"</p> + +<p>"I can give you some comfort," I said. "In one respect I can set your +heart at ease."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, impossible!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Not so. I have that to relate which though at first it may cause you +pain, cannot fail, upon reflection, to make you grateful. If I were to +tell you that you have not transmitted to an innocent girl the fatal +inheritance which has weighed like a curse upon your life, how would +it be with you?"</p> + +<p>"It would be heaven--it would be light! Unconscious sinner as I am, it +might mean forgiveness!"</p> + +<p>"I have been closeted with your wife, from whose lips I have heard +what you should hear. You will listen to me?"</p> + +<p>"Will you be long?" he asked, with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>"I will be as brief as possible--and receive it from me, as I received +it from your wife, that every word I utter is true."</p> + +<p>I told him the story of Mildred, who until now he had believed to be +his daughter. Perceiving that he was ill, I shortened it as much as +possible. Once or twice I paused in my recital, and asked him if he +was in pain.</p> + +<p>"In pain!" he cried. "When you are bringing heaven to me! The +agitation you observe in me proceeds from joy. Do not linger. Finish +quickly, quickly!"</p> + +<p>At the chiming of the half-hour my story was done. There was a happy +light in Carew's eyes. White as his face had grown, peace had stolen +into it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, I thank Thee!" he murmured, raising his arms; and then he +suddenly fell forward on his face.</p> + +<p>"I raised his head, and assisted him into a recumbent position.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. +"First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you +not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..."</p> + +<p>"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his +daughter that he came to England."</p> + +<p>"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my +angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... +It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked +of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these +years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the +subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go +quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no +pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!"</p> + +<p>I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay +back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his +face. But he was dead!</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:1em">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were +in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. +What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own +lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his +dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of +an awful crime.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:1em">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it +was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife +had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done +in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from +poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last +resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to +look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion.</p> + +<p>Emilius stood bareheaded by my side.</p> + +<p>"God forgive him!" said Emilius.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:4px">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="p2">The disclosure of Mildred's real parentage made no difference in the +relations between her and Mrs. Carew. It was mother and daughter with +them, as it had always been, and even some additional and subtle tie +of new tenderness was added to the feelings of love for each other +which will animate their hearts till the last hours of their lives.</p> + +<p>No one in the county, with the exception of ourselves, is acquainted +with the story of Emilius. A dignified, gentle-mannered gentleman, he +quickly won the esteem of all who came in contact with him. There +often reigns in his face a strange expression of sadness, and he +sometimes speaks to me of Eric; but there is joy in his life, and he +is grateful for it.</p> + +<p>The marriage of Mildred and Reginald was postponed for a decent time, +and then these young people were made happy, and sent upon their +honeymoon, accompanied by blessings and tears and heartfelt wishes for +good.</p> + +<p>As I prepare to end my task I see in my mind's eye the form of one +who, in every act of her life, in every gentle word that falls from +her lips, has sanctified for me the name of Woman. Not only in idea, +but in deed. "God bless Mrs. Carew!" is said by many out of her +hearing, and if to live a good pure life will earn God's blessing, she +has earned it, and it is hers.</p> + + + +<div style="margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:3em"> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<h3>Richard Clay And Sons<br/> +London And Bungay.</h3> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3) + +Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon + +Release Date: June 4, 2014 [EBook #45882] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET INHERITANCE VOL 3 *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the +Web Archive and Google Books. + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ + (Oxford University) + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + + + A + SECRET INHERITANCE + + + + + BY + + B. L. FARJEON, + + AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA," + "THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC. + + + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_ + VOL. III + + + + + LONDON + WARD AND DOWNEY + 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. + 1887 + + + + + + + Richard Clay and Sons, + LONDON AND BUNGAY. + + + + + + + A SECRET INHERITANCE. + + * * * * * * + + BOOK THE SECOND (_Continued_). + +IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW IS +REVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND, +TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO., +CALIFORNIA. + + + + +VOL. III. + + + + + + + VII. + + +The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his version +of what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use the +phrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to say +to which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be applied +with the greater force--took place in private, only the accused and +the magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, being +present. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis and +Gabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in the +prisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimental +views which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as the +love which it was well known had existed between the brothers since +their birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned, +the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, and +the general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom he +had chiefly lived. + +"My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man's +life and character are not only valueless but misleading when the +passions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate him +utterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angel +to a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himself +for the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, the +judgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is the +victim of delusions." + +Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!" + +"Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely. + +Doctor Louis did not reply. + +"No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence, +and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabric +is destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evident +disinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours he +passed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He is +concealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When I +accused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether his +meeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he was +unable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remark +to which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There are +matters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would be +difficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person to +understand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was his +reply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime I +did not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Have +these mysterious matters between you and your brother of which you +speak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for the +prisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but he +corrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon his +murder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' he +replied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?' +I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, if +you were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely be +justified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, of +course, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal chooses +to intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery, +but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of putting +justice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before our +interview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intended +to persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered a +little, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to one +person only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying that +I would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused to +mention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine, +this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him to +his meditations." + +"Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt." + +"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate. + +"You once entertained an esteem for him." + +"True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of each +other. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldom +remove, hides so much!" + +"So much that is evil?" + +"That is my meaning." + +"You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Late events and a larger experience are driving me in that +direction," replied the magistrate. + +"Have you any objection to granting me a private interview with +Emilius?" + +"None whatever. You have but to name your own time." + +"May Mr. Carew see him also?" + +"If he wishes." + +In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due to +an absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was against +Emilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of the +accused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing what +he felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The one +person to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself." + +To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to Doctor +Louis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversion +which, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards each +other, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must have +been strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt it +his duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia. + +"But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, and +endeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappy +man. He was not successful. + +"There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly to +struggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more so +now. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise." + +Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius. + +"I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refused +the hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," he +said, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge." + +"You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, the +evidence was so black against Emilius. + +"I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogs +our family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyed +Eric; it will destroy me." + +"Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme, +"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reason +for my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have been examined +informed me that there is a certain matter in connection with this +deplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am I +he--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?" + +"I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement to +the magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were, +indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right." + +"And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own free +will. He bears me no friendship." + +"He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though you +have not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I am +sure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power." + +"Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Then +why should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is not +of this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received with +sympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who are +acquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related to +any other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of a +maniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. For +this reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate." + +"Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though I +am groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would not +confide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why you +should be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light of +your belief that Carew bears you no friendship." + +"I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should most +likely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptings +which a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one of +them. I perceive that you do not receive these apparent +inconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not, +through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with my +father, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to you +as a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, would +you not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wild +effort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it not +happened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities and +inconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake you +will be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son." + +Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius his +hand, who again refused it. + +"Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that I +fear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears be +confirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service. +Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, my +father's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder of +my brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, may +be briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, and +grew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric made +her acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should have +been frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patricia +instead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted his +doom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, there +are a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go frankly +to Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is a +question that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty in +answering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here, +and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared her +father; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, is +difficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her own +station in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman. +Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dread +that her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. I +did not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We were +married in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longer +possible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it was +discussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardon +when he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was for +an earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union with +me, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep, +unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' she +said; and I believed it would. + +"This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of my +brother Eric." + + + + + VIII. + + +"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he +recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours +which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her +father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to +wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a +horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken +for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and +Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my +watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when +Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and +upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the +jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with +fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had +had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was +overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that +we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep +without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe +she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made +preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished +her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with +which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it, +and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber. + +"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part +of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night +was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry +moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep. +I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing +was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for, +upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I +had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing +quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I +judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were +aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative. + +"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation? + +"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few +minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible +that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time, +but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's +sleep. + +"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual +existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated +with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a +strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown +to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to +_my_ brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of +love, and who had inspired in _his_ heart feelings akin to my own. The +tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and +the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging +both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another, +which was the chief cause of my violent awaking. + +"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon +which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking +through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious +moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the +ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its +details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind +him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in +its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and +warn him!' + +"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke. + +"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had +come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the +warning? + +"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay. +Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name. +She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing +her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper, +'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!' + +"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I +awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I +might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having +neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by +other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son. + +"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my +absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have +forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is +well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her +breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her. + +"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without +hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the +forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and +recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams. +And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me, +strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him. + +"'Eric!' + +"'Emilius!' + +"But there was no friendliness in his tone. + +"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried. + +"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied. + +"'In search of me?' + +"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must +speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.' + +"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh. + +"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked. + +"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and +tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes; +shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!' + +"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially +all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview. +Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I +succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious +wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me. + +"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should +have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother, +that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It +lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia. +It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.' + +"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I +succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were +guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe +that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his +side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he +had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well, +kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the +witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an +injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart +is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my +reason when I think of my wife and unborn child. + +"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And +then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable +impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him +to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and +that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place, +and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely +dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them. +'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been +fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have +loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.' + +"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest. +I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison." + +"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis. + +"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply. + + + + + IX. + + +Throughout this narration Doctor Louis was impressed by the suspicion +that something was hidden from him. He pressed Emilius upon the point, +and his suspicion was strengthened by the evasive replies he received. + +"Enough, for the present, of myself," said Emilius; "let me hear +something of the outside world--of the world that is dead to me." + +"What do you wish to know?" asked Doctor Louis sadly. + +"Of yourselves," replied Emilius. "Of your good wife, whom I used to +look upon as a second mother. She is well?" + +"She is well," said Doctor Louis, "but in deep unhappiness because of +these terrible events." + +"How does she regard me--as innocent or guilty?" + +"She has the firmest belief in your innocence. When I told her I was +about to visit you, she desired me to give you her love and sympathy." + +"It is like her. And Lauretta?" + +"I did not inform her that I was coming. She is in great distress. You +and Eric were as brothers to her." + +"And now," said Emilius, with a certain recklessness of manner which +puzzled Doctor Louis, "one is dead and the other disgraced. But she +will live through it. She has a happy future before her?" + +He put this somewhat in the form of a question, to which Doctor Louis +replied without hesitation: "We have the best of reasons for hoping +so. But our conversation, Emilius, appears to have taken a heartless +turn. Let us rather consider the chances of establishing your +innocence and setting you free." + +"No, let us continue to speak of your family. There may not be another +opportunity--who knows? My judges may take it into their heads to keep +me in solitary confinement, and to deprive me entirely of the solace +of friendly intercourse, until they have got rid of me altogether. The +chances of establishing my innocence are scarcely worth considering; +they are so slender. Slender! They are not even that. I see no +loophole, nor do you. What is wanted is fact--hard, solid fact, such +as an actual witness, or a frank confession from the murderer. +Everything tangible and intangible is against me. Eric and I were +rivals in a woman's love; we had a meeting, in which we reconciled our +differences, and in which the horror of brotherly hatred was scotched +clean dead. Who were present at this meeting? My dear brother, who is +gone and cannot testify; and I, whose interest it is to say whatever +my tongue can utter in my defence. To prove my innocence I can bring +forward--what? Shadows. I could forgive my judges for laughing at me +were I to set up such a defence. Easier to believe that I killed my +brother in a dream. Could that be proved, there would be some hope for +me, for it might be argued that I was not accountable. Let us dismiss +it. I have told you all I know positively; for the rest, I am strong +enough to keep it to myself, being aware of the manner in which it +would be received." + +"Surely you are not wearied of life!" said Doctor Louis, shocked at +this reckless mood. + +"That is not to the point. Wearied or not, it is not in my power to +choose. Were I free, were my fate in my own hands, it would be worth +my while to consider how to act in order that the crime might be fixed +upon the guilty one. And hearken, Doctor, I am not swayed by impulse; +there is something of inward direction which holds me up. I hear +voices, I see visions--not to be heard or seen or taken into account +in a court of justice; of value only in a prison. They assure me that, +though I may suffer and be disgraced, I shall not die until my +innocence is proved." + +"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed Doctor Louis. + +"Meanwhile, I wait and take the strokes which fate deals out to me. A +crushed manhood, a ruined life, a blasted happiness! And there is a +happy future, you say, before Lauretta? You have every confidence in +Mr. Carew? Lauretta loves him?" + +"With her whole heart." + +"And you and your good wife approve--are content to intrust her +happiness into his keeping?" + +"We are content--we approve." + +"May all be as you hope! Say nothing to them of me. The best mercy +that can be accorded to me is the mercy of forgetfulness. I have a +favour to beg of you." + +"It is granted." + +"You will be kind to my wife; you will not desert her--you will, if +necessary, protect her from her father, who, I fear, will never +forgive her?" + +"I will do all that lies in my power to further your wishes--though I +still hope for a favourable turn in your affairs." + +"Your hope is vain," said Emilius. "I thank you for your promise." + + + + + X. + + +There were no further discoveries. Doctor Louis engaged eminent +lawyers to defend Emilius when his trial took place, but their case +was so weak that they held out no hope of a successful issue. They +pleaded hard and brilliantly, and took advantage of every vulnerable +point. A great number of witnesses testified to the good character of +the accused, to his consistent kindness of heart, to his humanity, to +acts of heroism now for the first time made public. These efforts were +not entirely without effect. Emilius was pronounced guilty, but a +chord of sympathy had been touched, and he received the benefit of it. +A strong recommendation to mercy accompanied the verdict, and he was +condemned to imprisonment for twenty-five years. Thus he passed away, +and was as one dead to those who had loved and honoured him; but it +was long before they forgot him. + +These events retarded for a little while the marriage of Gabriel Carew +and Lauretta, and even the ardent lover himself had the grace to +submit patiently to the delay. During that time he endeared himself +more than ever to Doctor Louis and his family, by his tenderness to +Lauretta, and by his charities to the poor. His mind recovered its +healthy tone; his habits became more regular; he paid attention to +religious duties; and when the wedding-day arrived it was a day of +rejoicing in the whole village. He and Lauretta departed on their +honeymoon tour amidst general demonstrations of love and esteem. The +sun was shining on their present and their future, and it may be truly +said that never did bride and bridegroom go forth under more joyful +auspices. For weal or woe the lives of Lauretta and Gabriel were +henceforth one. + +They were absent from Nerac for between two and three months, +travelling through delightful scenes and climes, and their letters +home betokened that they were perfectly happy. + +"For the first time," wrote Gabriel Carew, "I recognise the sweetness +and beauty of life. I have hitherto been wandering in darkness. +Association with Lauretta has opened windows of light in my soul; +heaven is nearer to me. How can I sufficiently thank you for the +precious gift of a nature so pure?" + +Their honeymoon over, they journeyed homewards to Nerac. Carew had +given all necessary instructions with respect to his house, and it was +ready for occupation upon their return. Martin Hartog had left the +village, and was never again seen in it. No one knew whither he had +gone; he left no sign behind, and, having few friends, was but little +missed, and was soon forgotten. Other changes had also occurred, of +infinitely more importance to Gabriel Carew and his wife. The first +which arrested their attention and brought fear to their hearts was +the health of Lauretta's mother, and Carew observed in Doctor Louis's +grave and anxious face that the fear which smote himself and Lauretta +had found a lodgment in the doctor's soul. She had grown thin and wan +during their absence; her limbs were oppressed with langour, her eyes +were dim, there was a wistful trembling of her lips. This was not +immediately observable, so profound was her joy in embracing once more +her beloved child, but Gabriel Carew was struck by it within a few +minutes of their being together. He did not, however, speak of it of +his own accord to Doctor Louis. So deep was the love between those +faithful souls, that Carew was fearful of referring to what might +prove to be not only a separation, but a destruction of happiness. +Doctor Louis was the first to mention it. He and Carew were sitting +apart from the mother and the daughter, who, embracing, were at the +other end of the room. + +"You have had a happy time, Gabriel?" + +"Very, very happy." + +"Our dear Lauretta is the same as ever." + +"Yes. I would wish that she should never change." + +"But changes come," said Doctor Louis with a sigh. + +"Yes, unhappily." + +"I am not so sure," said the doctor, with a trembling lip. "Yet when +they do come, sooner than we expected in one we love, they are hard to +bear. Faith in God alone sustains us in such a trial. To live a good +life, a life without reproach, upon which lies no shame, a life in +which we have endeavoured to fulfil our human duties--surely that must +count!" + +"Otherwise," said Carew, "the sinner would rank with the just." + +"The sinner is the more to be pitied," said Doctor Louis; and then, +after a pause, "Gabriel, you have been away from us for nearly three +months, and are more likely to detect changes in persons and things +than those who are hourly familiar with them. Do you observe +anything?" + +"In what--in whom?" asked Carew, in a hesitating tone. + +"In the dear mother," said Doctor Louis. "Is she thinner, paler, than +when you saw her last?" + +"Yes," replied Carew, deeming frankness the best course; "she looks as +if she had passed through a sickness." + +"She has not been really ill--that is, she has attended regularly to +her duties and has not complained. But she is drooping; I am filled +with fears for her." + +"She looks better within these few minutes," said Carew. "Her eyes are +brighter, her cheeks have more colour in them." + +"She has her dear Lauretta by her side," said Doctor Louis, his eyes +fixed upon her beloved face. "It is the delight of the reunion that +has excited her." + +"It may be," said Carew, "that Lauretta's absence has affected her. +They have never been separated before. How often has Lauretta said +during her travels, 'There is only one thing wanting--the presence of +my dear mother and father!' Now that they are together again, the dear +mother will grow stronger." + +It was not so, however; the good woman drooped daily, and daily grew +weaker. The remembrance of that brief time at the end of which +Lauretta'a mother passed from earth to heaven, never faded from the +minds of those nearest and dearest to her. Her illness lasted for not +longer than two weeks after Lauretta's return. + +"She was only waiting for her child," sighed Doctor Louis. + +It needed all his strength of mind and all the resources of his wise +nature to enable him to bear up against the impending blow; and these +would not have availed but for the sweet and tender words whispered by +his wife as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta +did not leave her mother. The young girl-wife suffered deeply. Even +the love of her husband, it seemed, could not compensate for the loss +of the dear one, whose unselfish course through life had been strewn +with flowers, planted and tended by her own hands to gladden the +hearts of those around her. The whole village mourned. Grateful men +and women clustered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's house from +morn till night, anxiously inquiring how the invalid was progressing, +and whether there was any hope. Simple offerings of love were hourly +left at the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes +brightened when she was told of this. + +"The dear people!" she murmured. "God guard them and keep them free +from temptation and sin!" + +These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel +Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the +terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once +innocent village with blood and crime. + +"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though +they were her own sons. To this moment she has a firm belief in +Emilius's innocence." + +"Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. +Fitly is she called 'The Angel Mother.'" + +It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the +village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally +applied to her. + +"For the Angel Mother," said the villagers, as they left their humble +offerings at her door. + +In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, +was besieged by eager sympathisers, asking him to convey loving +messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother, and--the wish +being father to the thought--inquiring whether she was not, after all, +a little better than she was yesterday, and whether there was hope +that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad +occasion to impress moral lessons upon his flock, bidding them purify +their hearts and live good lives. It was remarked by a few that a +feeling of restraint had grown up between Father Daniel and Gabriel +Carew since the latter's return from his honeymoon tour. Indeed, on +Father Daniel's part, this new feeling must have been generated before +Carew's return, and it very quickly impressed itself upon Carew. He +was not slow in paying coldness for coldness; his nature was not of +that conciliatory order to beg for explanations of altered conduct. +Proud, self-contained, and to some extent imperious and exacting in +his dealings with men, Carew met Father Daniel in the spirit in which +he was received. No words passed between them; it was simply that the +priest evinced a disposition to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and +that, the moment this was clear to Carew, he also fell back, and did +not attempt to bridge the chasm which separated these two men who had +once been friends. + +So the days wore on till the end came. With each member of her family +the Angel Mother held converse within a few hours of her death. + +"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew. + +There was no one else but these two in the chamber, and it was at her +request that they were alone. + +"My heart, my life, are devoted to her," said Carew. "So may I be +dealt by as I deal by her!" + +"She loves you as women do not always love," said the mother. "You +have by your side one who will sweeten and purify your days. No +thought but what is tender and sweet has ever crossed her mind. She is +the emblem of innocence. In giving her to you I believed I was doing +what was right. Do not question me--my moments are numbered. I have +been much shaken by the fate of Eric and Emilius. You believe Emilius +to be guilty. Be more merciful in your judgments. With my dying breath +I declare my belief in his innocence. It would be disloyal to one I +loved as my son if I did not say this to you." + +"But why," asked Carew gently, "especially to me?" + +"I would say it to all," she replied, "and I would have all believe as +I believe. His poor wife--his poor wife! Ah, how I pity her! Help her, +if you can. Promise me." + +"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in my power, and if she will +receive help from me." + +"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, +she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one +question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in +your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?" + +"Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to +him at such a moment. + +"Absolutely nothing?" + +"Absolutely nothing." + +"Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever +darken your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, +teach them to pray. Nothing is more powerful to the young as the +example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter +to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at +him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel." + +He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to +Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of +death. + +Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised +his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn +for resentment or coldness. + +"Pray with me," said the priest. + +Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's +direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners. + +Half an hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned +to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of +the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly +and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly +around her. + +When the news was made known, the village was plunged in grief. The +shops were closed, and the villagers went about quietly and softly, +and spoke in gentle tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit was +looking down upon them from heavenly heights. Early on the morning of +the funeral the children went into the woods and gathered quantities +of simple wild flowers, with which they strewed the road from Doctor +Louis's house to the grave. The sun was shining, the birds were +singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard. + +"It is as the dear mother would have wished," said Doctor Louis to +Lauretta. "I remember her saying long ago in the past that she would +like to be buried on a bright summer day--such as this. Ah, how the +years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful +for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly +woman, an angel now--waiting for us when our time comes." + +And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon, to me!" + +The people lingered about the grave over which to this day the flowers +are growing. + + + + + XI. + + +So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were +they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their +departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not +been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their +favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, +because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his +face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one +who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his +clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed +about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or +for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for +private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too +close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he +entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to +children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and +women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. +Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at +the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person +from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one +servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, +and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the +sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite +purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, +gazing at him. He approached and addressed her. + +"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said. + +"This is it," the servant replied. + +"So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. +Is the master at home?" + +"No." + +"He lives here, doesn't he?" + +"He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, +and has not yet taken up his residence." + +"His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?" + +"Yes. + +"Ah, they're married, then?" + +"Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a +stranger." + +"Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is +he?" + +"It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, +resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name. + +"Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?" + +"You will find him in the village." + +"That's a wide address." + +"He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where +that is." + +"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and +said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?" + +"He left months ago." + +"Left, has he? Where for?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"Because you won't?" + +"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow." + +"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was +brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out +of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil +shake of his head. + +"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can +be no harm in my asking where _have_ you come from--being, as you say, +a stranger in these parts?" + +"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a +different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to +anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for +your information." + +He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no +difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that +something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took +mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was +witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was +taken to its last resting-place. He did not know at the time whether +it was man or woman, and he took no pains to ascertain till the +religious ceremony was over. Then he addressed himself to a little +girl. + +"Who is dead?" + +"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl. + +"She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer +to his question--"Angel Mother"--had touched him. He once had a +mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if +not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages +which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?" + +"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife." + +"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" +Then he said aloud, "Dead, eh?" + +"Dead," said the little girl mournfully. + +"And you are sorry?" + +"Everybody is sorry." + +"Ah," thought the man, "it bears out what _he_ said." Again, aloud: +"That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?" + +"Yes." + +"The priest--his name is Father Daniel, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter?" + +"Yes." + +"Is her husband there--Gabriel Carew?" + +"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out. + +The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled +with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, +gazed at them, as though in the endeavour to fix their faces in his +memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. +None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special +sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away, he followed them at a +little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone +from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because +for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. +Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exactions is not to +be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which +he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the +afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him. + +"You are Father Daniel?" + +"I am." And the priest, with his earnest eyes upon the stranger, said, +"I do not know you." + +"No," replied the man, "I have never seen you before to-day. We are +strangers to each other. But I have heard much of you." + +"From whom?" + +"From Emilius," said the man. + +"Emilius!" cried Father Daniel, and signs of agitation were visible on +his face. "Are you acquainted with him? Have you seen him lately? + +"I am acquainted with him. I saw him three days ago." + +Father Daniel fell back with a sudden impulse of revulsion, and with +as sudden an impulse of contrition said humbly, "Forgive me--forgive +me!" + +"It is I who should ask that," said the man, with a curious and not +discreditable assumption of manliness, in the humbleness of which a +certain remorseful abasement was conspicuous. He bowed his head. +"Bless me, Father!" + +"Do you deserve it?" + +"I need it," said the man; and the good priest blessed him. + +"It is, up to now," said the man presently, raising his head, "as +Emilius told me. But he could not lie." + +"You are his friend?" said Father Daniel. + +"I am not worthy to be called so," said the man. "I am a sinner. He is +a martyr." + +"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me your hand. Nay, I will have it. We +are brothers. No temptation has been mine. I have not sinned because +sin has not presented itself to me in alluring colours. I have never +known want. My parents were good, and set me a good example. They +taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?" + +"And I, Father?" said the man in softened accents. "I! Great God, what +am I?" It was as though a revelation had fallen upon him. It held him +fast for a few moments, and then he recovered his natural self. "I +have never been as yourself, Father. My lot was otherwise. I don't +complain. But it was not my fault that I was born of thieves--though, +mind you, Father, I loved my mother." + +"My son," said Father Daniel, bowing his head, "give _me_ your +blessing." + +"Father!" + +"Give _me_ your blessing!" + +Awed and compelled, the man raised his trembling hands above Father +Daniel's head. When the priest looked again at the man he saw that his +eyes were filled with tears. + +"You come from Emilius." + +"Yes, with messages which I promised to deliver. I have been in prison +for fifteen years. Emilius joined us; we hardened ones were at first +surprised, afterwards we were shocked. It was not long before we grew +to love him. Father, is there justice in the world?" + +"Yes," said Father Daniel, with a false sternness in his voice. "That +it sometimes errs is human. Your messages! To whom?" + +"To one who is dead--a good woman." He lowered his head a moment. "I +will keep it here," touching his breast; "it will do me no harm. To +you." + +"Deliver it." + +"Emilius desired me to seek you out, and to tell you he is innocent." + +"I know it." + +"That is the second. The third is but one word to a man you +know--Gabriel Carew." + +"He is here," said Father Daniel. + +With head bowed down to his breast, Gabriel Carew came from Doctor +Louis's house. His face was very pale. The loss which had fallen upon +him and Lauretta had deeply affected him. Never had he felt so humble, +so purified, so animated by sincere desire to live a worthy life. + +"This man has a message to deliver to you," said Father Daniel to him. + +Gabriel Carew looked at the man. + +"I come from Emilius," said the man, "and am just released from +prison. I promised him to deliver to you a message of a single word in +the presence of Father Daniel." + +In a cold voice and with a stern look Gabriel Carew said, "All is +prepared. What is your message?" + +"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking." + +"I understand." + +"Murderer!" + + + + + XII. + + +In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this +recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate +events, in order that the interest of the story should not be +weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached +will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state +at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's +mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the +village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, +named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have +only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship +whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return +to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there +were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to +settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly +distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the +inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against +him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his +company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for +which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his +flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged +those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing +their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. +Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis +died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the +break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest +contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few +weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his +feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in +his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to +demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by +her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant +persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, +and her new life commenced in a foreign land. + +Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in +England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, +as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that +five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of +Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations +were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The +grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken +of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to +set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always +excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the +master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a +fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not +only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the +gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely +more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was +some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel +Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in +association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I +can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, +we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before +you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you +to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is +removed. + +Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not +necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young +people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. +Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. +For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too +old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls +who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special +privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to +this lady's house. + +From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He +had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his +heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told +me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was +she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of +course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes. + +These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. +In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information +respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father. + +He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and +danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love +with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my +son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of +his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting +light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature. + +For the third time he visited our friend, and for the third time met +Miss Carew. From what passed between us I resolved to see the young +lady and her mother. I made the opportunity by going uninvited to the +house of my kind-hearted friend upon the occasion of her next dance +party. I could take that liberty; we had been friends for twenty +years. I enlightened her confidentially as to my motive for visiting +her, and she received my confidence in the frankest spirit, firing at +me first, however, a gun of a very heavy weight. + +"It would be an excellent match," she said. + +"What!" I exclaimed. "Has it gone as far as that?" + +She smiled, and replied, "Well, only in imagination." + +I gave a sigh of relief. I had no wish that Reginald should seriously +compromise himself with a young lady who was a total stranger to me. +She renewed my uneasiness, however, by saying, + +"Yes, only in imagination so far as an actual declaration is +concerned. But, my dear sir, the young people have settled it for +themselves, without consulting wiser and older heads than their own. +It is the way of young people." + +She spoke rather quizzically, as though playing with me for an idle +gratification, and I told her as much. She instantly became serious, +and assured me that had she not approved of the more than liking that +Reginald and Miss Carew had for each other, she would have taken steps +to keep them apart. + +"Then the mischief is done," I said. + +"If you deem it mischief," was her reply. "Yes, it is done. The pair +are passionately in love with each other. But I am mistaken in my +opinion of them if they are not to be trusted. They will do nothing in +secret; when the affair becomes so serious as to render an open +declaration inevitable, they will consult those nearest to them, to +whom they owe a duty. In that respect I will answer for Mildred. You +should be able to answer for Reginald. Now that your eyes are opened, +invite his confidence. Speak to him frankly and lovingly, and he will +conceal nothing from you. I repeat, it would be an excellent match. +She is in every way worthy of him, and he is worthy of her. She is a +lady; her mother is a lady, and the personification of sweetness, +though I fancy sometimes she has a sorrow. But what human being is +perfectly happy? And Mildred's father is a gentleman." + +"Are you well acquainted with him?" I asked. + +"No, not well acquainted. There are few who can say that of him. He is +a man whose absolute friendship it would be hard to gain. All the more +precious, therefore, to him who wins the prize. It might be worth your +while to try, for Reginald's sake. Should his suit be accepted, an +intimacy between you and Mr. Carew is inevitable. You will find him a +man of rare acquirements. You have a leaning towards men and women who +think for themselves, and who have a vein of originality. Mr. Carew +being of this order, you will be naturally drawn to him. A not +inconsequential item in the programme is that he is wealthy, and that +Mildred is his only child. Mrs. Carew and Mildred have just entered +the room. I must go to them; follow me in a moment or two, and I will +introduce you." + +I obeyed her instructions, and in a short time was made known to them. + + + + + XIII. + + +I did not agree with Reginald's estimate of their beauty. He placed +Mildred first, and her mother second. My judgment reversed this order. +Mildred was truly a most beautiful girl, but Mrs. Carew's beauty was +of a quality which, the moment I set eyes on her, impressed me more +deeply than I had ever been in my life by the sight of a woman's face. +It is not only that it is physically perfect, but that there is in it +a spirituality which took my heart and my mind captive. It is as +though the soul of a pure woman is there reflected--of a woman who, if +she ruled the world, would banish from it suffering and injustice. She +is the incarnation of sweetness and gentleness; and yet I could not +avoid observing in her features the traces of a secret sorrow to which +the lady of the house had referred. This indication of a grief nobly +and patiently borne added to her beauty, and deepened the impression +it produced upon me. I am not exaggerating when I say that, standing +before her, I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. Were I a +painter, my ambition would be to fix upon canvas a faithful portrait +of one so pure and lovely. I should call my picture Peace. + +Her daughter differs from her in appearance. Her beauty is of another +type--milder, more full of expression and variety; she has opposite +moods which, as occasion serves, are brought into play in +contradiction of each other. This may render her more captivating to a +young man like Reginald, and were I as young as he I might also find a +greater attraction in the daughter than in the mother. A sweet and +beautiful girl, modest and graceful in all her movements, I was +satisfied that Reginald had chosen well, and at the same time I was +convinced that all the earnestness of his soul was engaged in the +enterprise. + +"I am happy," said Mrs. Carew to me, "to know Reginald's father." + +"No less happy am I," was my rejoinder, "in making the acquaintance of +a lady of whom I have heard so much." + +"Reginald has spoken of me?" + +"Of you and your daughter--continually, from the first evening on +which he had the happiness of meeting you. It was for the purpose of +obtaining an introduction to you that I came here to-night, an +uninvited guest." + +I felt that there must be no concealment in my intercourse with Mrs. +Carew. To be honest and outspoken was the surest way of winning her +friendship. Reginald and Mildred had wandered away, her hand upon his +arm. Mrs. Carew's eyes followed them, tenderly and wistfully. + +"We shall be very happy to see you at Rosemullion," she said; and I +promised to pay her an early visit. + +"Well?" said my hostess, when I left Mrs. Carew's side. + +"I cannot but approve," I answered. "I have never met a sweeter lady. +If the daughter's nature resembles her mother's, and Reginald is +fortunate enough to win her, he will be a happy man." + +My hostess smiled and nodded in satisfaction. An inveterate +match-maker, she was always delighted at the success of her +good-natured schemes. + +On the following day I visited Mrs. Carew, and made the acquaintance +of her husband, Gabriel Carew. I will not waste time by giving a +description of him. What you have already read will have prepared you +for his introduction _in propria persona_. Sufficient to say that I +was favourably impressed, and that I had not been in his company five +minutes before I discovered that the gentleman I was conversing with +was a man of extraordinary erudition and mental compass. I was +fortunate enough to win his favour; he showed me over his library--a +collection made by himself, and which could only have been gathered by +one of superior attainments. That my society was agreeable to her +husband was a manifest pleasure to Mrs. Carew, and once during his +temporary absence to obtain a book of which we had been conversing she +expressed a hope that we should be often together. + +"He is too much of a recluse," she said. "I have wished that he should +mix in society more than he does--indeed, he sees very little of +life--but he has a distaste for it." + +I replied that the distaste of a man like Gabriel Carew to share in +the frivolities of the age was to be easily understood. She answered +wisely, "Surely a little innocent frivolity is not to be condemned. +One may become too serious." + +"Mr. Carew is a student?" I said. + +"From his early youth," she replied, "he has been devoted to +book-lore. His young life was lived here in seclusion, and it was not +till after the death of his parents that he saw anything of the +world." + +Mr. Carew returned, and looked at us smilingly. He touched his wife's +hand lightly, but slight as was the action, there was affection in it. + +"I possess the gift of divination," he said. "You have been speaking +of me?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. + +"And of my love of solitude," he continued. "But what is bred in the +bone--you understand. There are inherited virtues and inherited vices. +The question is, at what point does actual responsibility become a +burden for which we can be justly called to account, and until that +moment, to define its precise relation to committed acts? Is it your +opinion that crime can be justified?" + +"No," I said. + +"Under no circumstances?" + +"Under no circumstances." + +"Early teaching, early habits, transmitted vices of the blood--are +they not factors? A man is an entity--complete possessor of his own +body and soul, which may be pure or hideous according to +circumstances. But you make him arbitrarily accountable. Do not +misunderstand me--I am simply theorising. Nothing of the argument +applies to me except my love of solitude, which is harmless, and hurts +no man. I have had experiences of the world, and have been misjudged. +There was a time when I was angry, when I inwardly rebelled. I do so +no longer. I am content. My wife, my child, my home, my lonely habits, +make up the sum of a fairly happy life. Are you fond of tea?" + +The light question, addressed to me in the midst of serious words, +somewhat startled me. I answered, "Yes;" and upon a motion from her +husband Mrs. Carew left the room to prepare the tea. Gabriel Carew +explained. + +"It is not ordered in this room because of a whim of mine. My wife has +an apartment which is to me a sanctuary of rest, and there it is that +we often sit and read and converse as we drink our tea. She is anxious +about me, but there is really no cause for anxiety. She has an idea +that solitude is affecting my health; she is mistaken; I was never +stronger, never better." He broke off suddenly with the remark, "You +are a physician?" + +"It will be correct to say I was," I replied. "Many years ago I +relinquished practice." + +"So I have heard; and I have also learnt that you held a distinguished +position. I have in my library your book treating of diseases of the +mind, in which you avoid the common ground of demonstrable insanity. +You speak there, if I remember aright, of inherited mental disease." + +"I have devoted two chapters to the theme." + +"And clearly confute," he pursued, "the statement you made just now +that under no circumstances can crime be justified." + +"I made that statement," I said, a little confused by this just +challenge, "from a general standpoint." + +"I speak from an individual standpoint," he remarked. "Which of the +two is the more human? However, this is diverging somewhat. Can you +tell me why, as twilight approaches, a change in my mood works +mysteriously within me? I was gay--I become morose. I was cheerful--I +am sad." + +"Nerves," I said, "affected by external forces. That is the only +answer I can at present give, knowing so little of you." + +Twilight was upon us as we conversed, and I observed that his face was +growing dark. With a strong, healthy, and decided motion he shook off +the influence, and held out his hand to me. + +"Know more of me," he said. "I have been informed of the mutual liking +which has sprung up between my daughter Mildred and your son. We will +speak of this seriously at a future time. Meanwhile, let your son +visit us; my home is open to him and you. I have a horror of +secrecies. We will shape our course in the light. Shall we strive to +be friends?" + +Apart from my inclination to be upon friendly terms with him--in the +first instance born of my anxiety for Reginald's happiness--there was +in Gabriel Carew's manner an irresistible charm, and I now desired his +friendship for my own sake as well as for Reginald's. I met his +advances cordially, and we spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Carew and +Mildred in the room which Carew had likened to a sanctuary. Its +influence upon him was an influence for good. The gloom which had +gathered on his face with the approach of night faded away, and was +replaced by a cheerfulness which found vent in his speech. I was more +than ever surprised at the vast stores of knowledge which he had +acquired. There was not a subject started of which he was not master, +and upon which he was not able to throw a new light, and when we +parted it was with mutual expressions of esteem, and with a mutual +wish that the intimacy thus auspiciously commenced should be allowed +to ripen into a close and genuine friendship. What particularly struck +me was the almost worshipping love Carew entertained for his wife. We +were standing in the garden, when, with a tender, personal application +of a theme we had broached, Carew said: + +"You know the old legend of every human being being accompanied +through life by two angels, one good and one bad each striving to +obtain mastery over him. My good angel is a visible one, and it is +ever by my side." + +He placed his hand upon his wife's shoulder, and she raised her eyes +to his. They gazed upon each other like lovers, and at that moment +there was not upon either face a trace of gloom or sorrow. + +"True love exists between those two," I thought, as I wended my way +home. "The shadows that hover round them are but idle fancies. I +rejoice that a daughter of these noble people has won my son's heart." + + + + + XIV. + + +A general survey of the few months that followed will suffice. There +are many small details which it would be pleasant to dwell upon, but +these may be safely left to the imagination. They consist for the most +part of the episodes which marked the progress of the love affair +between Mildred and Reginald--who, without any distinct declaration +from us, conducted themselves toward each other as an engaged couple. +We elder people tacitly held back from entering into an express +engagement, Mrs. Carew waiting, as it were, upon my movements and +those of her husband. I am in a position to explain the reasons of my +own backwardness in this important matter. Gabriel Carew's reasons +must, for the present, be left to explain themselves. I need scarcely +say that Reginald and Mildred were perfectly happy, being satisfied +that they possessed our sanction to their love. No fault was theirs in +this respect. If blame was due anywhere, we, their parents, were the +persons upon whom it justly fell. + +The hope of a binding friendship between myself and Mr. and Mrs. Carew +was more than fulfilled. Not only did we become firm friends, but the +closest confidential relations were established between us. So much so +that I became acquainted with the history of the inner and outer lives +of Gabriel Carew and his sweet wife. There was little to learn of Mrs. +Carew's life which I had not already imagined; it was a record of +innocence and sweetness. But what I learnt of Gabriel Carew afforded +me food for grave reflection. So intimate were our relations, so +perfect was the confidence he reposed in me, that he concealed nothing +from me. His frankness won my admiration and greatly disturbed me. The +recital of his youthful life, of his midnight wanderings, of his +solitary musings, and afterwards of the death of his parents, of his +entrance into Nerac, of his intimacy with the family of Doctor Louis, +and of the tragic events that occurred in the peaceful village, made +up the sum of the strangest record which had ever been imparted to me. +I confess to being much affected by the fate of Eric and Emilius, and +I asked Carew whether he had heard anything of Emilius of late years. +His reply was that he had heard nothing, and that the unhappy man was +probably dead. + +"You have no doubt that he was guilty?" I asked. + +"Not the slightest doubt," said Carew. + +I was not so sure; the story had excited within me a singular sympathy +for Emilius. + +Now, in what I am about to say with respect to Gabriel Carew, I had, +at that time, I admit, the slightest of grounds; and the powerful +effect a certain suspicion had upon me was all the more singular +because of the absence of reliable evidence. The study I had made for +many years of the different forms in which insanity presents itself +was very captivating to me, and in the course of my researches I +unearthed some weird particulars, of which, were I a writer of +fiction, I could make effective use. Gabriel Carew was an affectionate +husband and father, a faithful mate to his wife, a wise counsellor to +his daughter. He had not a vice which I could discover. He was neither +a spendthrift nor a libertine. He drank in moderation, and he never +gambled; indeed, he detested all games of chance. His views of men and +manners were singularly correct, and denoted a well-balanced brain. It +was only where his affections were concerned that he could be called +in any way extravagant; but this would be accounted rather a virtue +than a vice. His recreations were intellectual, and he sought pleasure +and happiness only in his home and in association with books and his +wife and child. What judgment would you, from a distance, pass upon +such a man? What but that of entire approval? But I was in daily +contact with him, and signs were visible to me which greatly disturbed +me. To speak plainly, I doubted Gabriel Carew's perfect sanity! + +This was a matter of most serious moment. If Carew were not sane, his +disease, so far as I could judge, was of a harmless form. The proof of +this lay in his affection for those of his blood, and--which, in +evidence is, in my opinion, quite as strong--in his tenderness to +animals and birds. But I have to a certainty established not only that +insanity is hereditary, but that what is harmless in the parent may +become destructive in the child. Mildred was Carew's daughter, and to +all appearance as free from any touch of insanity as the most +healthful of human beings. But the germ must be in her, to be +transmitted to her children--to Reginald's children if he married her. + +This consideration impelled me to secret action in the way of inquiry. +It would have been, useless to appeal to Reginald, and to set before +him the probable consequences of such an union. My counsel would have +fallen upon idle ears. My duty, however, was clear. It was for me to +protect him. + +Instead of listening uninterruptedly to the confidences imparted to me +by Carew, I prompted, probed and asked questions, and thus learnt much +which might otherwise not have come to my knowledge. Considering the +motive by which I was impelled, the investigation I was pursuing was +of an exceedingly delicate nature, but to my surprise, Carew met--nay, +anticipated--me with a most surprising frankness. He made no attempt +to avoid the subject, and the interest he evinced in it seemed to +exceed my own. He spoke much of himself--not in direct connection with +hereditary insanity, but as though there was that in his life before +the death of his parents which it would be a relief to him to clear +up. He gave me a circumstantial account of all the incidents of those +early years, taking pains to recall the most trifling detail bearing +upon his youth. + +"It is a strange pleasure to me," he said, "to be able to unbosom +myself so freely. My wife is acquainted with much I have imparted to +you. There was never any need to distress her by a relation of the +morbid fancies which afflicted me when I was a boy, and which, +perhaps, were the foundation of the profound melancholy which, after +sunset, has lately crept upon me. Perhaps I am paying the penalty of +old age." + +I combated this view, pointing out that he was in the prime of life, +with perhaps its most useful years before him. Throughout these +discussions and confidences the names of Mildred and Reginald were not +mentioned--I purposely avoided reference to them, but Carew did not +appear to have any thought of them while we conversed. The one person +who seemed to me able to furnish information from which I could weave +a rational theory was Mrs. Fortress, the nurse who for a number of +years attended Gabriel Carew's mother. I asked him if any +correspondence had passed between them since she left Rosemullion, and +he answered, "No," and that he had not seen or heard of her from that +time. I then asked him if he had any idea where she was to be found, +supposing her to be still living. + +"In the last interview I had with her," he replied, "she gave me an +address in Cornwall." He paused here, and I saw that he was weighing +some matter in his mind. "I can find this address for you," he said +presently, "if you desire it. Have you any curiosity to see her?" + +"Yes," I said boldly, "if you have no objection." + +Again he paused in thought. "I have no objection," he said. "She may +reveal to you what she declined to reveal to me, and it may assist you +in your inquiry." + +I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he +had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and +encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle +and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The +next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had +told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me +also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most +intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would +communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her +power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to +pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his +presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the +information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a +sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made +preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of +the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress. + + + + + XV. + + +A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years +of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour +about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most +strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished +her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would +have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her +that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed +to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no +surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. +Carew. + +"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her. + +She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket. + +"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked. + +"He is well," I replied. + +"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she +said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and +never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what +might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he has not carried out his intention?" + +There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right +and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made. + +"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed. + +She nodded assent. + +"As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is +married?" + +She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of +interest within her at this intelligence. + +"Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?" + +"No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year." + +"Is his wife living?" she asked. + +"Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her +portrait?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I +thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. +I handed her the picture. + +"A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me. + +"Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, +beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her." + +"Is she happy?" + +"Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of +love." + +"That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?" + +Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to +give, she took advantage of it. + +"Then he is not happy?" + +"I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere +light curiosity that I have sought you." + +"It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. +You are not here at my bidding." + +"True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from +Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with +him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person +living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of +his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack +of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been +matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, +believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the +case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. +His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting +with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which +reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your +refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was +alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more +hurtful than the truth might have been." + +She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been." + +"But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have +contributed to avert evil consequences?" + +"To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?" + +"To others," I replied. + +"I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that +question. You have more to say." + +"There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. +Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to +your sense of justice would probably weigh with you." + +"It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any +profession?" + +"I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I +practised as a physician." + +"In a general way, or as a specialist?" + +"Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon +certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you +would like to read it." + +"It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should +have devoted myself to that branch of the profession." + +I gave her the book, which she placed aside. "It is not, however, +solely in that capacity," I said, "that I am here. That certain +indefinite impressions, springing from my professional experiences, +have prompted me, I do not deny; but my strongest reasons are private +ones. Is it your belief that insanity is hereditary and ineradicable?" + +"That is my firm belief," she said. + +"It is also mine. Mrs. Fortress, are you a married woman?" + +"I married a few months after I left Mr. Carew's service. Within two +years of my marriage I lost my husband." + +"Have you any children?" + +"One--a son." + +"Who must be now approaching manhood?" + +"Yes." + +"That is my case. My wife is dead, and I have an only child--a +son--who is deeply in love with Gabriel Carew's daughter." + +This introduction of Miss Carew threw Mrs. Fortress off her guard; +there was a startled flash in her eyes. + +"I am sorry to hear," she said, "that Mr. Carew has a daughter. Has he +other children?" + +"No. Mildred Carew is, like your son and mine, an only child. I +purposely brought three things with me, in the hope that they would +help me in my purpose. Two you have--my book and the portrait of +Gabriel Carew's wife. Here is the portrait of his daughter." + +She examined it with the greatest interest, and remarked that she saw +no resemblance in it to the father. + +"That has struck me," I observed; "neither does she resemble her +mother in any marked manner. But that sometimes happens, though it is +not the rule." + +"Is there an engagement between your son and Miss Carew?" + +"They are courting each other, with a view to marriage." + +"With your consent?" + +"Yes, but it was given before I became intimate with Mr. Carew." + +"And since then you have repented?" + +"I have been greatly disturbed." + +"Rather," she said slowly, "than my son should marry a daughter of Mr. +Carew's, I would see him in his grave." + +This declaration profoundly agitated me, so far did it go to confirm +me in my suspicions. "I asked you a question a few moments since," I +said, "and you said you would wait a little before you answered it. +Will you answer it now?" + +"Your question was, 'Had a painful truth been revealed to Mr. Carew +when he was a single gentleman, whether it might have averted evil +consequences to others.'" + +"You have stated it correctly." + +"It might have done," she said. "But it appeared to me that Mr. Carew +was the last man in the world to attract a woman's heart. I often said +to myself, 'He will never marry.'" + +"You were mistaken." + +"I was; and I say again I am sorry." She took from her pocket the +letter I had given her from Mr. Carew, and read it carefully and +slowly, in a new light it seemed to me. Even when she had finished the +perusal she did not immediately speak, but sat in silent thought a +while. + +"I am not a tender-hearted woman," she said, "and not easy to move +when I pledge myself. Mr. Carew's father behaved well to me, and +fulfilled his promise of providing for me if it was in his power to do +so after the death of his wife. I, on my part, kept the two promises I +made him when I entered his service. The first was not to leave his +service during the lifetime of his wife; the second not to divulge, +without powerful cause, the secret of the unhappy inheritance he +feared his wife had transmitted to their son. When I bade farewell to +Mr. Gabriel Carew in Rosemullion, I saw no such cause for divulging +the secret, and I declined to satisfy my young master. It may be +different now, and I may be tempted to satisfy _you_." + +"Out of your sense of justice?" I observed. + +"Not entirely. Mr. Carew's letter contains the offer of a reward." + +I met her instantly and with eagerness. "I am prepared to pay it." + +"It happens that I am in need of a sum of money. An opportunity is +open to my son which will be to his advantage, but I am not rich +enough to purchase it." + +"How much is needed?" I asked. + +She named a sum which was modest in comparison with the limit which +Gabriel Carew had given me, and I at once consented to pay it to her +for her information. I had money with me, and I counted out the amount +she required, and handed it to her. After ascertaining that it was +correct, she commenced. + +"When I accepted the situation Mr. Carew offered me, I did it with my +eyes open. I was at that time employed in a lunatic asylum, and was +dissatisfied with my rate of pay. Mr. Carew offered me higher terms. +His wife was a dangerous woman, and needed constant watching. Properly +speaking, she should have been placed in an asylum, but the thought of +so doing was hateful to her husband, who desired to keep his domestic +affliction from public knowledge. He would have regarded such a +disclosure as an indelible disgrace. There are similar secrets in many +families. At the time he married her, he had no suspicion that her +blood was tainted, and it was only three months before the birth of +Gabriel Carew that he made the discovery. I do not profess to be +thoroughly familiar with all the particulars; I am not a prying woman, +and was contented with what he told me. When he made the dreadful +discovery he and his wife were abroad, and the occasion of it, so far +as I could gather, ran in this fashion. Mr. Carew was occupying a +house in Switzerland--he was rich at the time--and was entertaining +guests. Among them was a false friend who was managing his affairs in +England, where Mr. Carew lived for the greater part of every year. +Ultimately this friend robbed him of his fortune, which Mr. Carew +never recovered, coming, however, into another later on, which enabled +him to purchase the estate of Rosemullion. One evening there was a +large party in Mr. Carew's house, in which his friend was stopping. +Mrs. Carew was passionately fond of music, and there was a Tyrolean +air for which she had an infatuation. She sang and played it again and +again, and became much excited. It is not out of place to say that she +was a very beautiful woman. The evening passed on, and the guests had +departed. All but one--her husband's false friend, who was stopping in +the house. Either his duties as a polite host or some other business +called her husband away, and Mrs. Carew and this friend were left +alone. He asked her to play and sing again, and she did so for him; +and then he made love to her. She repulsed him indignantly, but he was +not to be easily daunted, and a climax arrived when he grossly +insulted her. This roused her to fury, and she caught an ornamental +dagger---but a weapon capable of mischief--from the table, and would +have plunged it into his heart had he not caught her wrist and +disarmed her. He flung the dagger away, and then coolly told her that +her husband had implicit confidence in him, and that he would invent a +story that would ruin her. He told her, too, that he had her husband +in his power, that she and he were at his mercy, and that he could +beggar them at any moment. There occurred then a singular change in +her; her excitement left her, and she became as cool as he. Deceived +by this, he renewed his suit, but she held him back, and she said one +word to him: 'Wait!' To wait meant to hope, and he said he would be +content if she would play and sing to him again. She did so--the same +Tyrolean air she had sang so many times on this evening. Her husband +came in, and the scene ended. In describing it I am drawing from what +Mr. Carew told me afterwards in England. But the incident was not to +end there. Mr. Carew and his wife retired, and he, awakening in the +middle of the night, missed her from his side. He started up, and saw +that her clothes were gone. At the moment of the discovery he heard a +cry, and he ran from the room. He saw his wife approaching him; she +was fully dressed, and she held in her hand the ornamental dagger, +which was stained with blood. There was a smile on her lips, but +although he stood straight in front of her, with a candle in his hand, +she did not appear to see him. She passed by without a word or look of +recognition. He followed her to their bedroom, and there she laid the +dagger aside, undressed, and went to bed. She had been all the time +fast asleep. When she was abed he looked at the blood-stains on the +dagger; there was no wound upon her; from whom came the blood? From +whence the cry? The direction from which his wife had come was that of +the room occupied by his friend. He went there, and found his guest +just reviving from a state of insensibility caused by a stab in his +breast while he was asleep. Mr. Carew could form but one conclusion, +and his sole aim now was that the matter should be kept quiet. In this +he succeeded, having invented a story which his friend professed to +believe, and into which Mrs. Carew's name was not introduced. It +suited Mr. Carew's friend not to dispute the invented story; his wound +was not very serious, and he subsequently repaid the injury by +beggaring the man who had reposed entire confidence in him, and whose +wife he had attempted to lead to her ruin. Mr. Carew could not +immediately question his wife, for the next morning she was +dangerously ill. The ordinary doctors who were called in did not +appear to understand the case, and eventually Mr. Carew consulted a +foreign specialist of renown, who informed him that there was insanity +in his wife's blood, and that it would most likely assume a phase in +which there would be danger to those about her. This alarmed Mr. +Carew, not for his own sake, but for his wife's. There was a law in +that part of the country, which, put in force, would have removed Mrs. +Carew from his care, and he made haste for England, where he would +feel safe. Thus far in his wife's illness no dangerous symptoms were +visible, and he flattered himself into the belief that the foreign +doctor was wrong in the opinion he had given. The most marked +characteristic of the disease manifested itself in a harmless fashion, +being simply a sentimental passion for the Tyrolean air Mrs. Carew had +sung so many times on the night when the hidden seed of insanity began +to grow. Under these conditions Gabriel Carew was born. She insisted +upon nursing the child, which, had I been in their service at the +time, I should not have allowed. When Gabriel was two years of age, +the dangerous symptoms of which the foreign doctor had warned Mr. +Carew began to manifest themselves, and I was engaged as nurse. Mr. +Carew had lost his fortune then, but he was not entirely without +means, the largest portion of which was spent upon his wife. He paid +me liberally, his one desire in life being to keep the skeleton of his +home concealed, not only from the world, but from the knowledge of his +son. He thought that, growing up in ignorance of his mother's +condition, Gabriel might escape the contagion. I thought differently, +but we had no discussions on the subject. He had engaged me to perform +a certain duty, and I performed it--there it ended. I had nothing to +do with consequences. After Mr. Carew took possession of Rosemullion +his wife became worse; there were weeks together when no person but I +could approach her with safety. I had perfect control over her. She +was obedient, through fear, to my lightest word. It was certainly +merciful that the sad secret, having been so long concealed from +Gabriel, should remain so. If mischief were done, it was not now to be +averted. This is the explanation of Gabriel Carew's lonely boyhood +life, and it will possibly help to explain any strange peculiarities +you may have observed in him. I do not consider I have violated the +second promise I gave to his father--that I would not divulge without +powerful cause the secret of Gabriel Carew's unhappy inheritance. +There seems to me here to be cause sufficient for secrecy not to be +any longer observed. My tongue being now unsealed, I am ready to reply +to any questions you may ask." + + + + + XVI. + + +Mrs. Fortress's statement made everything clear to me, and also marked +out for me a clear path of duty. Knowing what I now knew, it would +have been an act of monstrous wickedness to allow Reginald to marry +Mildred. Never could I hope to be forgiven did I not prevent the +union. Better that my son should live a life of unhappiness through +all his days than enter into a contract which would doom the unborn to +madness--perhaps to crime. It was not only an offence against man, it +was an offence against God. The task before me was difficult, I knew; +but I must face it bravely and without flinching. Hearts would be +broken in the struggle--well, better that than the awful consequences +which would follow such a marriage. My own heart bled as I +contemplated what must occur during the next few weeks. + +Thus did I excitedly reason with myself in the first heat of the +revelation. When I became cooler I saw more clearly the difficulties +in my way. What evidence had I to produce? That of an old woman who +had given me certain information--which tallied with my own +suspicions--for a large sum of money. A cunning woman, to supply +me with what she saw I wished. Cunning from the first. Paid +liberally--nay, extravagantly--always, according to her own +confession. Her one single motive in the matter from first to +last--money. Was it likely, being in service so temptingly +remunerative, that she should not adopt every cunning means to retain +it? There was not only the immediate pay, but the prospect of a reward +which would make her comfortable for life. She had so man[oe]uvred +that she gained this reward. During the lifetime of Gabriel Carew's +mother Mrs. Fortress held supreme power over her. Her son was only +allowed to see her a few minutes at a time at intervals of weeks. Even +her husband, at the bidding of this clever woman, was denied +admittance to his wife's chamber. What difficulty was there, in those +days and weeks of seclusion, to so oppress, irritate, and torture the +poor patient as to compel her to put on the semblance of madness--to +drive her into it indeed? Such cases were not unknown. Even now, from +time to time, the public heart is stirred by a sudden revelation of +such atrocities. + +These were cogent arguments which I raised against myself. With myself +in my son's place I should confidently advance them, and should laugh +to scorn the weak opposition which would bar my way to happiness. I +sighed as I thought. The obstacles in my way were every moment growing +more formidable. + +These were not the only arguments against myself which occurred to me. +There was Mrs. Fortress's conduct when she left Rosemullion after the +death of her mistress. Gabriel Carew had made a pitiful appeal to her. +How had she met him? By assuming a mysterious air, indicating that she +had the key to a secret in which he was vitally interested, but that +she did not intend to give it to him. Why had she done this? Who could +doubt the answer to such a question? It was necessary to the _role_ +she had adopted. Any other course would have led to an exposure of her +vile scheme. There was the legacy which Mr. Carew left her in his +will. Were the real truth known she might be deprived of it. +Therefore, the assumption of mystery in her last interview with +Gabriel Carew. A cunning woman indeed. + +Against evidence so flimsy there was a heavy weight of testimony. Was +not Gabriel Carew a loving husband and father? No person could dispute +it. He loved his wife and child, and they loved him. Was he ever known +to commit a cruel act! Never. Was not his purse ever open to the call +of charity? Innumerable instances that such was so could be adduced. +Could even light acts of rudeness and incivility be laid at his door? +What was the worst that could be said of him? That he was not fond of +society, that he was a recluse. Could not this be said of hundreds of +estimable men, and was it ever put forth as a distinct offence? If he +did not himself go into society, did he prevent his wife and child +from doing so? On the contrary. He encouraged them to seek amusement +which he, a grave man and a student, possibly deemed frivolous. Fond +of books, seeking his greatest pleasures in them, was not this +distinctly in his favour, and did it not prove him to be of a superior +nature to the common herd? The heaviest charge was that which, in +conversation with me, he had brought against himself--that on the +approach of night his spirits became gloomy. Slight grounds indeed for +so serious an accusation as insanity. Madmen were proverbially +cunning. Gabriel Carew was the soul of frankness, himself opening up +discussions which would tell against him were he not mentally and +physically sound and healthy. I began to despair. + +These reflections did not all pass through my mind in the silence +which followed the conclusion of Mrs. Fortress's statement. They are +the summing-up of my thoughts at that time and during my homeward +journey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fortress was waiting patiently for me to put +any questions which might occur to me. + +"Beyond yourself, Mrs. Fortress," I said, "and your master and +mistress, was there no person cognisant with Mrs. Carew's condition?" + +"None, sir, with the exception of the foreign doctor." + +"Can you tell me his name?" + +"I do not know it, but a doctor of his learning would not have been a +young man when Mr. Carew consulted him, and it is hardly likely he +would be now living." + +"True," I said. + +"Besides," she added, "his experience of Mrs. Carew could have been +but slight. Almost immediately after he gave Mr. Carew his opinion of +my mistress, they left for England, as I have told you." + +"Yes," I remarked, "and he may, after all, have been mistaken." + +She shrank a little, I fancied, but she said firmly, "He may have +been, I was not." + +"I am not doubting you, Mrs. Fortress," I said. + +She interposed here by saying, "It is immaterial whether you are or +not. The facts are as I have stated them." + +"I understand, of course, that you have spoken honestly, but is it not +possible you may have judged wrongly?" + +"I cannot admit it, sir," she replied with calm dignity. "It is not +possible." + +Certainly she maintained her ground. I continued my inquiry. + +"Before Mr. Carew came into his second fortune he lived humbly in +London?" + +"Yes; in poor lodgings." + +"Did the house contain other lodgers?" + +"Yes." + +"And did not any of them suspect or discover the mystery so close to +them?" + +"In my belief not another person in the house had any suspicion." + +"You lived for many years in Rosemullion?" + +"Yes." + +"Did not Mrs. Carew have a medical adviser?" + +"A doctor called and saw her from time to time." + +"Was he not aware of her condition?" + +"He was not. His visits were a mere matter of form, and he frequently +called at the house without seeing my mistress." + +"By whose directions was she denied to him?" + +"By mine. It was part of my duty to preserve my master's secret." + +"I am sure you did your duty, Mrs. Fortress." + +Her lip curled. She did not thank me. + +"Did this doctor ever see Mrs. Carew alone?" + +"Never. I took care always to be present, and I always prepared my +mistress for his visits, warning her to be careful." + +"Did she never rebel?" + +"With respect to the doctor, never. I had my difficult days with her, +but that was my business, and mine alone." + +"He must have been a careful and conscientious man," I said somewhat +sarcastically. + +She capped me by replying, "His accounts were regularly paid. Perhaps +that was sufficient for him." + +"Perhaps," I said, and I could not avoid a smile, though I was really +indignant. "Can you tell me anything more to guide me? Do you think it +was Mr. Carew's intention to keep his son in complete ignorance of +this misfortune, even after the death of your mistress?" + +"I am not positive. My master died during a visit to Wales, while my +mistress was still living. It is probable, had he survived his wife, +that he would have spoken to his son on the subject. I cannot say for +certain, but, from certain words he once used I believe he left some +record behind him." + +This suggestion aroused me. + +"Some written record?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"Where would he have deposited it?" + +"In Rosemullion my master had his private room, into which no one was +allowed to enter. There are large safes built in the walls of that +room. If the record I believe my master made is found anywhere, it +will be in that room. I have nothing more to say, sir. I have told you +all I know. Whether you believe me or not does not concern me. When +you see Mr. Gabriel, sir, give him my humble duty." + + + + + XVII. + + +I returned to Rosemullion in a very disturbed frame of mind. The +nearer I approached the abode of mystery the stronger grew my doubts +of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement. All she had related was in +such complete accordance with a cunningly carried out scheme, whereby +the innocent were made to suffer, and she--the plotter--made +comfortable for life, that I accused myself for my egregious folly in +giving her story credence, and listening to it patiently. It was, +however, impossible to allow the matter to stand as Mrs. Fortress had +left it. Some further inquiry must take place, and my doubts cleared +up before I would give my consent to the union of my son with Gabriel +Carew's daughter. I did not dare to run a risk so great until my mind +was fairly at ease. It was a relief to me when I reached my home that +Reginald was not there to greet me. I knew what the tenor of his +conversation would be, and I wished to avoid it. He had, indeed, but +one theme: Mildred; his heart and soul were meshed in his absorbing +love for the fair girl to whom there was a likelihood of a most +terrible inheritance having been transmitted. + +I proceeded without delay to Rosemullion, and the first person who +greeted me on the threshold was Mrs. Carew. She expressed her +satisfaction at my return, and upon my inquiring for her husband, said +that he was in his study, but that before I saw him she wished to have +a few private words with me. It was then that I noted signs of trouble +in her face. She led me to the apartment which Gabriel Carew had +described as a sanctuary of rest, and at her bidding I sat down and +awaited the communication she desired to make to me. + +She commenced by saying that her husband had such complete confidence +in me and she such faith in my wisdom, that, having a weight at her +heart which was sorely disturbing her, she had resolved to ask my +advice, as a friend upon whom she could rely. I replied that her faith +and her husband's confidence were not misplaced, and that it was my +earnest wish to assist her if it lay in my power. + +"It is not without my husband's permission," she said, "that I am +speaking to you now. He knows that I am uneasy about him, and he +himself suggested that I should consult you upon your return from +Cornwall." + +I was startled at learning that she was not ignorant of my visit to +Mrs. Fortress; I imagined that the affair was entirely between me and +Mr. Carew. I asked her if she was acquainted with the precise object +of my visit. + +"No," she replied; "only that you have been on a visit to a nurse who +was in the service of my husband's family before the death of his +parents. I did not seek for further information, and my husband did +not volunteer any. Neither is he acquainted with the details of the +matter I am about to open to you. I thought it best to keep it from +him until I obtained counsel from a near and dear friend." + +I inclined my head, and she continued: + +"My husband informs me that he has related to you the fullest +particulars of his life, and that he has unbosomed himself to you with +an unreserved confidence, such as no other person in the world has +been able to inspire." + +"It is true," I said, "and I hold his confidence sacred, to be used +only for our good." + +"And for the good of our children," she said. + +"Yes," I said, conscious of a strange note in my voice as I repeated +the words, "and for the good of our children." + +She detected the unusual note, gazed steadily at me for a moment, and +proceeded, without commenting upon it. + +"Knowing so much, you are familiar with my husband's nightly +wanderings in the woods when he resided here with his parents?" + +"Yes." + +"He was aware of these nocturnal rambles?" she said. "He undertook +them consciously?" + +"Certainly." + +"He was always awake when he left the house and returned to it?" + +"Always," I replied, surprised at the question. + +"He has given me full permission to put any questions to you with +respect to the confidence he has reposed in you. 'If I have kept +anything from you,' he said to me this morning, 'it has been done to +save you from uneasiness;' and he added with a smile that he had +concealed nothing from me for which he had reason to reproach himself. +Certain habits, contracted during a lonely youth, had left their +impress upon him, and unusual as they were, there was no harm in them. +'Of one thing be sure,' he said; 'I have lived a pure and blameless +life.' I did not need his assurance to convince me of that. As +Reginald's father, you should be glad to know it." + +"I am glad to know it," I said, and again I was aware of the strange +note in my voice, "as Reginald's father and your husband's friend." + +"I will explain," she said, "why I asked you whether my husband had +any reason to believe that occasionally he walked abroad at night when +he was not awake. He has done so for some years past at certain times +and under certain circumstances. He did so last night." + +"Is he not now aware of it?" I inquired. + +"No, I have never informed him that he is a sleep-walker. My reason +for keeping this knowledge from him is that I am convinced it would +have greatly distressed him; but what occurred last night has so +disturbed me that I can no longer be silent." + +My suspicions of the truth of Mrs. Fortress's statement began to fade. +Here was confirmation that the son had inherited one phase, at least, +of his mother's disease. + +"You remarked," I said, "that Mr. Carew has walked in his sleep for +some years past at certain times and in certain circumstances. Were +these circumstances of a special nature?" + +"Yes--and all of one complexion; when something was known from which +he feared danger." + +"To himself?" + +"I think not. To me and Mildred. I recall three occasions, which will +supply you with an index to the whole. Once there were reports in the +papers of a number of burglaries being committed in the neighbourhood, +accompanied by deeds of violence. The burglars--there were three, as +was subsequently proved--were at liberty, and the efforts made to +discover and arrest them met with no success for several weeks. During +that period my husband rose regularly every night from bed, dressed +himself, and went out of the house, always returning, dressed as he +left the room. On one of these occasions I followed and watched him, +and discovered that his aim was to guard us from danger. He remained +in the grounds around the house, holding a pistol. His actions were +those of an earnest, watchful guardian, and were guided by the most +singular caution. Sometimes he would hide behind a tree, or crouch +down, concealed from view. When he was satisfied that there was no +longer any danger, he returned to the house, stepping very softly, and +examining the fastenings of the doors and windows." + +"Did he rise in the morning with the appearance of a man who had +passed a disturbed night?" + +"No; he was always cheerful, and appeared to be quite refreshed by +what he believed to be a good night's rest. At length, when the +burglars were arrested he left the house no more for many months, +until a workman whom he had employed, and whom he had reason to +discharge, uttered threats against us. Then he again commenced his +nightly watch, which did not cease until he received information that +the man had left the country. After that he enjoyed a long period of +repose. The third occasion was when there was a report of the escape +of a dangerous madman from a lunatic asylum three or four miles from +Rosemullion. Until this man was once more in safe custody, my husband +never missed a night's watch during his sleep. You will gather from +this explanation that he was always actuated by a good motive--to +guard and protect those whom he loves." + +"That seems clear," I said, "and what you have related is especially +interesting to me as a specialist, apart from my sincere friendship +for you and yours." + +"As a specialist!" she exclaimed. "Of what kind?" + +Fortunately I arrested myself in time. The words which immediately +suggested themselves to me in reply, remained unspoken. The truth +would have been too great a shock to this sweet lady. + +"As one deeply interested," I answered, with an assuring smile, "in +psychological mysteries. What occurred yesterday to excite Mr. Carew?" + +"He and I had been out riding. Upon our return one of our gardeners +informed my husband that a man had been seen lurking about the +grounds. The story told by the gardener is this: The stranger, a +foreigner, although he spoke good English, did not wait to be accosted +by the gardener, but himself opened a conversation. He asked if this +was Rosemullion. Yes. Did a family of the name of Carew live here? +Yes. Was Mrs. Carew alive? Yes. Was Mr. Carew alive? Yes. Did they +have any family? Yes, a daughter. What was her name? Miss Mildred. +Could he see Mrs. Carew? Mrs. Carew was out driving. When would I +return, and was there any possibility of the stranger seeing me alone? +The gardener could not say. It was not I, but my husband who put these +questions to the gardener. Then Mr. Carew asked sternly what was the +bribe that induced the gardener to answer the inquiries of a stranger, +and he forced the truth from him. The stranger had given the gardener +a foreign coin, which my husband insisted upon seeing. It was a piece +of French money. This part of the affair is completed by the admission +of the gardener that the stranger was apparently in poverty, as his +poor clothes betokened--and yet he had given the gardener money to +answer his questions! When the gardener was gone my husband said that +the circumstance was very suspicious, and I thought so myself; that +the stranger had some bad motive in thus intruding upon private +property, and that he would go in search of him. I asked to be allowed +to accompany him, and after a slight hesitation he consented, saying +if the stranger came with innocent intent and we met him, that he +could say what he had to say to me in my husband's presence. We +strolled all round the grounds of Rosemullion, but saw no stranger. +Then my husband said he would go into the woods, and that I had better +leave him; but I, fearing I knew not what, begged to be allowed to +remain with him. Together we went into the woods, and for a long while +met no person answering the description given by the gardener; but +after a while we saw a stranger a few yards in front of us. It +happened that I was a little ahead of my husband at that moment, and +the stranger, turning and seeing me, thought that I was alone. He was +about to hasten towards me when my husband stepped to my side. Without +hesitation the stranger abruptly turned from us, and, plunging into +the woods, was immediately lost to view." + +Something in Mrs. Carew's manner at this point--which I should find it +difficult to explain--some premonition that this man she called a +stranger was really not so to her--caused me to ask, + +"You saw his face?" + +"Yes." And at this answer, tremblingly spoken, my premonition became a +certainty. + +"You recognised it?" + +"Unless I am much mistaken--and with all my heart I pray to heaven I +may be!--it was a face once familiar to me." + +It was not now for me to pursue the subject; it was for her to confide +freely in me, if such was her desire. There was a silence of a few +moments before she resumed: + +"My husband, having hidden nothing from you, has told you all that +occurred in my dear native village, Nerac, before we were married?" + +"He has told me all, I believe," I said. + +"Of my beloved parents--of friends once dear to me--Eric, murdered, +and the unhappy Emilius?" + +"I am acquainted with all the particulars of that tragic event." + +"Sadly changed, worn, haggard, and travel-stained, in the man we met +in the forest I recognised Emilius." + + + + + XVIII. + + +This, indeed, was startling news. Emilius alive, his term of +imprisonment over, or he an escaped convict, seeking an interview with +Mrs. Carew, the wife of the man whom he regarded as his bitterest +enemy! To what was this to lead?--in what way was it to end? + +"Did Mr. Carew recognise him?" I asked. + +"I cannot tell you," replied Mrs. Carew. "Not a word passed between us +respecting him. _I_ did not dare to speak. It would but have been to +reopen old wounds, and after all I may have been mistaken. Not for me +to bring back to my husband the memories of a past in which he was so +cruelly misjudged. Besides, this was the one and only subject upon +which my husband and I were not in harmony. He most firmly believed +and believes in Emilius's guilt; I as firmly believed and believe in +his innocence. The years that have flown have not softened my +husband's judgment nor hardened mine; and until this hour the name of +Emilius has never passed my lips since we settled in Rosemullion. No, +it was not for me to utter it in my husband s presence; it was not for +me to bring pain to his kind heart. I said nothing, nor did my +husband, nor did he attempt to follow the stranger. In silence we +walked back to the house, and the evening passed as usual. Reginald +came, and we had music and conversation. On the part of Mildred and +your son converse was cheerful and unconstrained, and I also strove to +be cheerful. I was so far successful as to deceive the children, but +my husband was not so easily blinded. And yet he made no allusion to +the subject which engrossed my thoughts, and weighed like a dark cloud +upon my heart. The hour grew late, and I sent Reginald home. Young +people in love have always to be reminded. Then my husband and I +retired to rest. Troubled as I was, sleep was long in coming to me, +but at length Nature was merciful, and I sank into slumber. I awoke at +the soft chiming of our silver clock, proclaiming the hour of two. +Never do I remember being awoke by the chiming of this clock, so low +and sweet is it; and that I should awake now as it struck two may have +been simply a coincidence. I sat up in bed. I was alone. My husband +was not in the room; his clothes were gone, and he had doubtless gone +out fully dressed. In great fear I rose and dressed, with the +intention of following him, but when I tried the door I found it had +been locked on the outside. Powerless to do anything but wait, I sat, +trembling, till daylight began to peep in at the windows. Then I heard +my husband's footsteps in the passage, which would not have reached my +ears had not my senses been preternaturally sharpened. He trod softly, +and turned the key in the door very gently in order not to disturb me. +He entered the room, and I almost fainted as I saw in his hand the +bright blade of an ancient dagger which usually lay upon his study +table. His face was turned towards me, his eyes were open, but he did +not see me. He took from his pocket a sheath, in which he placed the +dagger, and then he undressed. Before he lay down to that more +healthful sleep in which his mind would be at rest, he listened two or +three times at the locked door, and going to the window, drew the +blind a little aside and looked from the window. Then he stretched +himself in bed, and his eyes closed. Not by the least sign did he show +any consciousness of the fact that I was standing, dressed, in the +room, and that we were often face to face. I soon retired to bed, but +I slept no more. I lay awake, listening to my husband's breathing, +praying for the hour to arrive at which we generally rose for the +day--praying for that, praying that the night would not come again, +praying for a friend to counsel me. It were vain for me to disguise +from you that I am in dread of what may happen should my husband and +Emilius meet. And there is still something more----" + +I waited, but she left the sentence uncompleted. Startled as I was by +what I had heard, I was even more startled to see this good and gentle +woman suddenly cover her face with her hands, and burst into a passion +of tears. I turned from her in commiseration, powerless to relieve or +console her. Even had I words at command, it was better that her grief +should be allowed to spend itself naturally. When she had recovered, I +asked, + +"Has Mr. Carew made any reference to what passed in the night?" + +"Not any," she replied. + +"Did you?" + +"I simply asked him if he had slept well, and he answered 'Yes,' and +that his sleep had been dreamless." + +"Will you pardon me for the question whether you believe that to be +really so--whether his answer to your solicitous inquiry was not +prompted by his desire not to trouble or distress you?" + +"I am certain," said Mrs. Carew, "that my husband said what he +believes to be true. Dear friend, what am I to do?" + +She seized my hand, and clung to it as though to me, and to me alone, +could she look for help in her sad position. + +"Does Mildred know anything, suspect anything?" I asked. + +What was the meaning of the timid, frightened, helpless look in her +eyes at the mention of Mildred's name? No mental efforts of mine could +fathom it. + +"Nothing," she replied, and then seemed to drift, against her will as +it were, into distressful thought. I devoted a few moments to +consideration, and when I spoke again had resolved upon a course of +action. + +"Would you wish me to become your guest for a few days?" I asked. + +"Ah, if you would!" she exclaimed. + +"I shall be willing if Mr. Carew has no objection. I will see him +presently and ascertain. But first I have a little scheme to carry out +which I think advisable for all our sakes." + +I asked her if I could write a letter in her room, and despatch it at +once to my house, and she opened her desk for me. My letter was to my +son Reginald, and the effect of it was to secure his absence from +Rosemullion during my stay in Mr. Carew's house. There was really a +matter of business which Reginald could attend to, and which rendered +it necessary for him to take his immediate departure for London. When +my letter was written, I explained its purport to Mrs. Carew, and she +acquiesced in the wisdom of my plan. She herself added a few words to +the letter, to the effect that she regretted not being able to see him +before he left, and that Mildred was well and sent her love. She gave +me a flower, and asked me to enclose it in the envelope. + +"He will think it comes from Mildred," she said, "and it will send him +away happy. It is an innocent deceit." + +The letter was despatched, and with a few assuring words to the sweet +woman, I went to her husband's study. + + + + + XIX. + + +I observed a change in him. Something of his inner life was reflected +in his face, the expression upon which was stern and moody. It +softened a little when he shook me by the hand. I asked him if he was +well, and he answered yes, but troubled by a strange presentiment of +evil. He remarked that he was on the eve of momentous circumstances in +his life which boded ill. I did not encourage him to indulge in this +vein, but proceeded to relate as much of my interview with Mrs. +Fortress as I deemed it wise and necessary to impart. He listened to +me patiently and reflectively, and when I had finished, said: + +"You have given me food for reflection. I have in you a confidence so +perfect that I place myself unreservedly in your hands. I will be +guided completely by your counsels; my confidence in myself is much +shaken. What do you advise?" + +"This is the study," I said, "which your father used to occupy?" + +"It is," he replied; "and no person was allowed to enter it without +his permission." + +"After his death you searched in it for his private papers?" + +"I did, and found very little to satisfy me. I hoped to discover +something which would throw light upon the strange habits of our life +and home. I was disappointed." + +At my request he showed me the method by which the safe was opened, +and the ingenuity of the device caused me to wonder that he had found +nothing of importance within its walls. I was, however, convinced that +there was in the study some clue to the mystery of Carew's boyhood's +home--although I could not help admitting to myself that it needed but +faith in Mrs. Fortress's statement to arrive at a correct solution. +But I required further evidence, and I resolved to search for it. + +"As you have placed yourself in my hands," I said, "you will not +object to comply with two or three slight requests." + +"There is little you can ask," was his response, "that I am not ready +to accede to." + +"Invite me to remain here as your guest for a few days." + +"I do." + +"Allow me to occupy this room alone until I retire to bed." + +"Willingly." + +"And promise me that you will not leave the house without first +acquainting me of your intention." + +"I promise." + +A little while afterwards he left me to myself, saying that if I +wished to see him I should find him with his wife. When he revealed to +me the secret method by which the safe was worked, he did not close +the panel; it remained open for my inspection, and I now made an +examination of the interior without finding so much as a scrap of +paper. This was as I expected; if Gabriel Carew's father left +documents behind him, they must be searched for elsewhere. A careful +study of the room led me to the conclusion that the massive +writing-table was the most likely depository. The working of the safe +was a process much too tedious for a man who wished for easy access to +his papers; the writing-table offered the means of this, and I turned +my attention to it. I do not wish to be prolix, and I therefore omit a +description of the painfully careful examination of every point in +this massive piece of furniture. Suffice it that, after at least an +hour's search, my endeavours were rewarded. In one of the legs of the +table on the inner side, quite undiscoverable without a light, I felt +a depression just large enough to receive the ball of my thumb. I +pressed hard, and although there was no immediate result, I fancied I +detected a slight yielding, such as might occur when pressing upon a +firm spring which had been disused for many years. I pressed harder, +with all my strength, and I suddenly heard a sharp click. I found that +this proceeded from the skirting of oak immediately above the leg I +was manipulating. I had carefully examined the skirting all round the +table without being able to discover any signs of a drawer. Now, +however, one had started forward, and I had no difficulty in pulling +it open. My heart beat more quickly as I drew from it a manuscript +book and a few loose sheets of foolscap paper. The writing was large +and plain; ink of such a quality had been used that the lapse of years +had had but a slight effect upon it. In less than a minute I satisfied +myself that the handwriting was that of Gabriel Carew's father. + +The book first. I read it attentively through. It was a record of the +circumstances of the married life of Gabriel Carew's parents, and such +of it as bore upon Mrs. Fortress's statement confirmed its truth in +every particular. Before I came to the end of this record I heard +Gabriel Carew calling to me outside. I hastily concealed the book and +papers, and went to the door. + +"I would not come upon you unawares," he said, "but it has occurred to +me that to leave you even partially in the dark would not be +ingenuous, and might frustrate the end we both have in view. Before I +was married I wrote what may be regarded as a history of my life up to +that period. There are in it no reservations or concealments of any +kind whatever. Not alone my outer but my inner life is laid bare +therein; it is an absolutely faithful and truthful record. Since I +wrote the last words of this personal history I have not glanced at +it. I hand it now to you with one stipulation. So long as I am alive +you will not reveal what I have written. Should I die before you I +leave it to your discretion to deal with it as you please. Another +thing. I ought to more frankly explain why I put you in possession of +secrets which no man, unless under unusual and extraordinary +circumstances, would impart to another. I have been all my life +animated by a strong spirit of justice to others as well as to myself. +By this inclusion of myself I mean that I should be as ready to +condemn myself and to mete out to myself a penalty I may consciously +or unconsciously have incurred as I would to any ordinary person. I am +also animated by a sincere and devoted love for my wife and child. +Were I asked to express the dearest wish of my heart I should answer, +the wish for their happiness. But even this must not be purchased at +the expense of a possible wrong to another human being. There exists +between your son and my daughter an affection which has been allowed +to ripen into love. Whether we have been wise time will prove. You +have, equally with myself, the welfare of your child at heart. You +have doubts; let them be fully resolved. I need say no more than that +I am convinced that these feeble words of mine--which to strangers +would be inexplicable--will help us to understand each other." + +He left me alone once more, not waiting for me to speak, and I felt +for him as deep a sentiment of pity and admiration as had ever been +excited within me. He had also magnetised me into sharing his belief +that momentous circumstances were about to occur in his life which +would affect mine and my son's. It could not be otherwise in the light +of the love which Reginald bore for Mildred. + +I did not resume the perusal of the record made by Carew's father; I +held my curiosity in check both as regards that and what was written +on the two sheets of foolscap paper. Commencing to read the personal +history which Gabriel Carew had composed, I became so fascinated by it +that I could not leave it. Mrs. Carew sent to ask me to join them at +dinner, but I begged to be excused, and wine and food were brought to +me in the study. I remained there undisturbed, engrossed in Gabriel +Carew's narrative, and it was late in the night when I reached the +end. Then with feelings which it is impossible for me to describe, I +turned to the record made by Carew's father, and finished it. No +opinions were therein expressed; there was no indulgence in theory or +speculation; it was a simple statement of fact. The conclusions +arrived at by Carew's father were set down on the sheets of foolscap, +which next claimed my attention. They ran as follows:-- + + + + + XX. + + +"It is my intention, as an act of justice, before I die, to make my +son Gabriel acquainted with the mystery of my married life. It is due +to him and to myself that he should not pass his life in ignorance of +the sad events and circumstances which shadowed his home. The journal +which I have written, and in which he will find a record of facts, +will put him in possession of the melancholy circumstances of his +parents' lives. Without additional words from me he would understand +the explanation I have given, but something more is necessary from me +to him. + +"When I married his mother I had no knowledge that there was in her +blood an inherited disease. Had I suspected it I should not have +married her. It would have been a transgression against the laws of +God and man. To bring into the world human beings who are not +responsible for their actions, and who are driven to crime by the +promptings of a demoniac force born within them and growing stronger +with their own growth to strong manhood, is to be the creator of a +race of monsters. It matters not how fair and beautiful the outside +may be; simply to think of the evil forces sleeping within, urging to +sin and crime and cruelty, is sufficient to make a just man shudder. +Madness assumes many phases, but not one more dreadful than the phase +in which it presented itself in my wife's nature. Her conscious, +waking life was a life of gentleness and kindness; her unconscious, +sleeping life, but for the restraints I placed upon her, would have +been a life of crime. The fault was not hers, but it fell to her lot +to bear the burden of her curse. I, at least, by rendering her +existence a misery to herself and those around her, kept her free from +crime. One she committed before my eyes were opened, but its +consequences were not fatal. To this hour she does not know that she +attempted the life of a human being, and it is possible, because of my +treatment of her, that she thinks of me as a monster of cruelty. It is +for me to bear this burden, in addition to others which have come to +me unaware. I do not bemoan, but my life might have been bright and +honoured had I not married my wife. The one consolation I have is that +I have endeavoured to perform my duty. My son Gabriel must perform +his, though his heart bleed in its performance. Should the worst +befall, all that I can do is to implore his forgiveness for having +been the cause of his living. There have been times when I have +debated with myself whether it would not be the more merciful course +to put him out of the world, but I have never had the courage to +execute the sentence which my sense of stern justice dictated. There +is, however, one chance in life for him, although I most solemnly +adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with that of an +innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck the +sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror which +blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; not one +must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most +solemnly upon him; if he violate it he will be an incredible +monster--as I should have been had I married his mother knowing what +taint was in her blood. For his guidance I may say that I have +consulted the most eminent authorities in Europe, and this is their +verdict. Let him pay careful heed to it, for in my judgment it is +incontrovertible. + +"Reference to my journal will show him that the first visible +manifestation of his mother's disease was exhibited about five months +before he was born. We were then inhabiting a house in Switzerland, +and on the night her fatal inheritance took active shape and form we +had been entertaining a party of friends--one of whom was a foul +villain--and my wife had been singing many times a Tyrolean air of +which she was passionately fond. I copy the music of the air here, +praying to God that my son may not be familiar with it." + +(Here followed a few bars of music, which I had no doubt formed the +air to which Mrs. Fortress had referred in her statement, and mention +of which will also be found in the record of his life made by Gabriel +Carew.) + +"After the almost tragic events of that night my wife was continually +singing this air; I have heard her hum it in her sleep. When my son +was born she suckled the child--an error I deeply deplore. The +physicians I consulted are of one opinion. If my son Gabriel inherits +in its worst form his mother's disease, the ghost of this air will +haunt him from time to time. It may not be so clear to his senses that +he could sing it aloud, but he would indubitably recognise it if he +heard it by accident. It is for a test that I copy the music; it is +for my son to apply it. Should the air be entirely unfamiliar to him, +should it fail to recall any sensations through which he has passed, +the inheritance transmitted to him by his mother--if it ever assume +practical shape--will exhibit itself in a milder and less ruthless +form. The physicians aver that at some time or other, if Gabriel live +long, some such manifestation will most surely take place, and that if +it occur in its worst phase, the key-note to the occurrence may be +found in the affections. + +"This is as much as I can at present find strength to set down. I +shall take an opportunity to confer with my son upon this gloomy +matter, but I have a reluctance to approach the subject personally +with him during the lifetime of his mother. It will need an almost +superhuman courage on my part to speak of such a matter to my own son, +but I must nerve my soul to the task. If he reproach me, if he curse +me, I must bear it humbly. Once more I implore his forgiveness." + + + + + XXI. + + +The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal +revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me +as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns. +Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's +daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable. + +The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the +chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I +been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I +heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one +creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study +door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the +caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The +moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door +Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were +open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so +intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers +were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements. +In his hand he held a dagger. + +His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed +to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He +paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he +crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his +unhappy inheritance. + +My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded +danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another +occurrence almost as startling. + +With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my +side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a +distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So +pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that +I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her. + +"You saw him?" she said. + +"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside." + +He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within, +had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of +his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every +corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was +intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search, +he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to +the front door of the house. + +"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew. + +I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so +in your place." + +"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a +man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!" + +"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the +sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door. +There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set +loose. What do you fear?" + +"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly +and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr. +Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited. +The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling +about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to +discover a means of entering it when we were asleep." + +"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the +information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius. + +To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he +is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a +fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out." + +"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?" + +"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he +is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is +no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go +down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my +sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!" + +She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may +be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of +exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak. + +"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to +serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all +to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see +before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his +sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain +at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?" + +She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened +the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no +moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he +took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left +the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been +unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from +the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone, +and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close +itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went +out into the open. + +I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special +precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on +his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense +excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was +impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to +learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I +contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me +that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not +stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision, +avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in +the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of +the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did +not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his +steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that +upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times +pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly +in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen +Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart, +and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his +bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of +this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking +moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with +the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind +the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had +consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take +its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was +demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home; +the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and +he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them, +animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his +enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had +taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent +maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice +had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a +terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a +horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him +nothing but compassion. + +For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his +foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were +present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however, +he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high, +was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing +his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed, +and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely +convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade +of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was +something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the +shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these +occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if +needed, and all would have been over. + +At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the +safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house. + +Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him, +but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a +dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to +precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in +the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest +space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and +closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned, +heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard +the chain put up. Then silence. + +What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into +the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought +exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for +daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the +thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read +loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which +Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden +emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at +the truth. + +"You are Emilius," I said. + +"I am Emilius," was his reply. + + + + + XXII. + + +Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. He +had been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense of +self-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness. +He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmerited +suffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but it +had not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other men +who have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habits +foreign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid upon +him, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke him +gentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purpose +from which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him to +Rosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and his +family, it was necessary that I should learn its nature. + +"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?" + +"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, from +gentleman to gentleman." + +His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if I +was mocking him. + +"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend in +human form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I lay +concealed, I supposed you were both in league against me." + +"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is truly +my wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right." + +"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has not +embittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me to +disbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weaker +course. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, from +which I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass at +the present, but I have still sufficient for two months' dry +bread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal with +you as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension of +human signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know me +and perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helping +hand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offers +itself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once if +your intentions are not honest." + +"I will stay and prove myself," I said. + +"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while that +monster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, has +re-entered his house?" + +"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it, +but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made no +movement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot." + +"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As I +have told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I am +without a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked a +conflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me. +My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, might +with little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that without +scruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here an +errand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settle +with him; but there is something of even greater weight to be +accomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word was +relied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you I +ask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concert +at such an hour?" + +"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not see +me; he was not aware of my presence." + +Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?" + +"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet it +would be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present let +the matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper your +judgment." + +"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The dead +cannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiend +ever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of your +connection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answer +yours freely." + +"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by ties +of affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotless +purity." + +"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love a +brother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation of +innocence and goodness." + +"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now your +pity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge." + +"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, that +brought me here. But you have not completed your explanation." + +"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Love +grew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----" + +"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!" + +He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavy +sobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. I +turned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumed +the conversation. + +"You seem to know the story of my life." + +"I am acquainted with it." + +"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?" + +"Yes." + +"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul and +condemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. I +call Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I be +cursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn from +me, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before you +an innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murderer +lives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother was +not the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac, +whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another man +was murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade suffered +the penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do not +question the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason these +atrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smite +the guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turned +blasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is, +I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like a +man. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which I +cannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping in +the dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, of +all men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale, +for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mystery +which the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extends +even to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster's +guilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter into +my feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of my +imprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. I +could not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Night +after night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to my +murdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayer +was answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as I +assume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brother +Kristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So was +it, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthday +anniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon my +soul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did not +speak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him in +the forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deep +anguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe. +In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to be +not less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and he +knelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towards +him stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, I +beheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shone +upon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fell +intent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother, +but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter a +sound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer, +noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracked beneath his feet; all +nature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed about +to be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours, +until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. He +raised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment he +paused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel, +devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric's +back, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, as +the knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brother +was dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through the +woods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dream +was at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithful +presentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerful +than human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of a +delusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might be +supposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself upon +the murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for another +purpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and to +stain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Having +heard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you have +promised?" + +"I will do my best, if my judgment approves." + +"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs. +Carew--_must!_ There is a matter between us which must be cleared up +before another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand is +not one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from my +lips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She will +understand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me. Will you do this?" + +"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire." + +"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his head +bespoke the gentleman. + +"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?" + +"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on my +guard. Good-night." + +"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it with +his, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself. + +I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers-- +unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my way +to the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room to +meet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered, + +"My husband is there." + +"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius, +forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secret +drawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass the +study on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I did +not dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he is +asleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?" + +"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied. + +"Thank you," she murmured. + +I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table, +with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was Gabriel +Carew, in a profound slumber. + +"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followed +me into the room, "until late in the day." + +"Leave us together," I said. + +She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and the +papers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrasted +with an expression of resolution and content. What this portended I +had yet to learn. + + + + + XXIII. + + +It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered the +promise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirred +from the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I made +a gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had found +in the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplished +without violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind that +he had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he had +formed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intention +of fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room. + +Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements, +and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone I +made her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and I +perceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for an +interview. When I repeated to her Emilius's words, "Tell her she has +nothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will not +allow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the one +joy it contains for me," she clasped her hands across her eyes, and +remained so for a little while. + +"It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly she +could not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must see +him." + +"When?" I asked. + +"I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time to +reflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care." + +She pointed to the study in which her husband slept. + +"You understand that he is determined to see you before another day +and night have passed?" + +"Yes, I understand." + +"How is Mildred?" + +"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. +She suspects nothing." + +"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough." + +"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her +voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but +knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy +punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting +right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes." + +She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the +study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without +observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of +embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. +I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. +Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it +was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell +asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I +awoke. + +Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes. + +"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly +exhausted." + +"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at +lightness. "Have you been awake long?" + +"For some hours," he replied. + +I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followed +the direction of mine, and he nodded gently. + +"Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked. + +"Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked in +occasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand to +a corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there. +"Eat," he said; "you must be hungry." + +I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himself +drank two glasses. + +"We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumb +of bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme which +created it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or a +devil? Have you finished?" + +"Yes." + +"Something is necessary between you and me, something which must not +remain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions, +torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end." + +"One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carew +left the house during the time I have slept?" + +"No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own." +He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you here +yesterday, you discovered these?" + +"I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life to +read." + +"You have read it?" + +"Every word." + +"Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had he +dealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have been +averted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vain +regrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you. +Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to you +last night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolute +frankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I am +animated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lighter +sentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has the +misfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and complete +love. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, and +yet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all." + +I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully, +mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--his +leaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him to +prevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movements +in his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strange +intelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements, +fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, my +discovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into the +study, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I had +found in the secret drawer. + +He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by a +word. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approached +Emilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured the +murder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denote +agitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius's +desire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason for +it? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerful +reason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England for +the special purpose of the interview. + +"I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew, +"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, should +scout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me to +doubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it." + +"How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If you +think of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touch +you." + +"From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "I +became a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether you +believe me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me as +a monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe; +and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone, +but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. My +father wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavoured +to perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was to +enlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to the +nature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have done +what it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not the +courage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of a +pure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease of +insanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in human +beings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task to +find doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside the +sufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own or +any man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as a +lake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am another +being. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to my +door? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the law +is satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward and +say, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, and +he will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You saw +me last night prowling round my house in search of whom? In search of +an enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured the +punishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved to +have committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. So +sensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that even +in my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, no +voice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded, +praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded with +loathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me? +Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroy +them while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It would +be a simple safeguard." + +As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silence +listening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; it +was calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there was +no deviation from this aspect of absolute composure. + +"What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' I +most solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life with +that of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluck +the sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horror +which blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him; +not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunction +most solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incredible +monster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the written +pages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof how +deeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatal +confession. + +"Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in his +duty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand the +mystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not kill +me? God and man would have applauded the deed." + +Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what he +had to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was I +by this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silence +enabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself. + +"You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house. +Then she has not seen Emilius?" + +"No. She will see him to-morrow." + +"He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquaint +him with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew." + +"Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there will +be no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so many +years. His mission cannot be so urgent." + +"He declares it is." + +"He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, to +denounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is the +joy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from a +pestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is not +content, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You can +assure him of my honesty in this." + +"You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that his +errand was not one of revenge." + +"He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview with +her. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she would +not see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that I +have pronounced judgment upon myself." + +I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decision +there was no gainsaying. + + + + + XXIV. + + +I have omitted to mention that a letter was delivered to me from my +son Reginald. It was written in London, almost immediately upon his +arrival there. There were in it about twenty words in relation to the +business I had entrusted to him, for the purpose of securing his +absence; the remaining three and a half pages were filled with +rhapsodies upon Mildred. It was Mildred, Mildred, nothing and nobody +but Mildred. She was the light of his life, the hope, the joy of it; +nothing else but Mildred was worth living for. Not even I, his old +father, who never thought, who never would think, any sacrifice too +great to make for his son's happiness. I did not complain, and I do +not; it is the way of things, and we old ones must stand aside, and be +humbly grateful that we are allowed to witness the happiness which we +have done our utmost to bring about. Not that this was the case with +Reginald and myself. The duty devolving upon me was to prevent, not to +assist in, the accomplishment of his dearest hopes. How would the lad +take it? Would he look upon me as his enemy? Would he thrust me aside, +and rush wildly to a fate I shuddered even to contemplate? Would not +the example before him serve as a warning? I could not say. The more I +thought of the matter the more disturbed I became. Certainly, he could +not marry Mildred without Carew's consent, and that, I knew, would be +withheld. The true story of her husband's life could not be concealed +from the knowledge of Mrs. Carew; and knowing it, she would not allow +Mildred to wed. If necessary, Mildred herself must be told how +impossible it was that she should ever think of marriage, and she +would refuse my son. And Reginald's heart would be broken! Of that I +was convinced. It would be a blow from which he would never recover. + +These were my reflections as I went out into the grounds of +Rosemullion to seek Emilius. I had not long or far to seek. Near the +copse in which he was concealed the previous night he suddenly +presented himself. + +"I have been looking and waiting for you all day," he said. "Can you +realise the torture I am suffering?" + +I did not answer his question, but gave him an account of what I had +done, and then I conveyed Gabriel Carew's message to him. + +"To wait till to-morrow!" Emilius exclaimed. "He asks, he implores me +to wait till then?" + +"I have told you," I said. "It seems to me not unreasonable." + +"It seems to you--it seems to you!" he repeated, in petulant +excitement; and the next moment begged my pardon for speaking so to +me, who had proved myself his friend. "But you do not know this +fiend--you do not know of what he is capable! You believe what I have +told you of the eternal wrong he has inflicted upon me--a wrong for +which he can never hope to be forgiven in this world or the next. You +believe it, and yet you say he is justified in asking me to wait till +he has had time to carry out the secret design he has formed to +prevent me from obtaining justice! You believe it, and yet you justify +him! O God in Heaven! Is there, has there ever been, justice on earth? +And I am to wait, who have waited for twenty years, who have suffered +unjustly for twenty years! And I am to stand aside while he completes +his work and dashes the cup of happiness from my lips! No! Again and +again, no! This night is my limit. Before it passes I will see Mrs. +Carew, and she shall right me. You can tell this to the monster yonder +who has juggled you so successfully." + +I endeavoured to argue, to reason with him, but he would not listen to +me. So I left him, his last words being that nothing on earth should +move him from his resolve. + + + + + XXV. + + +The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me +with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the +little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with +her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest. + +Mrs. Carew was alone. + +"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not +disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to +come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?" + +"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you +to-night." + +"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience +till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for +it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it +should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been +praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our +courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr. +Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to +church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do +not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed +when you left him?" + +"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he +did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be +the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty +to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence." + +"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me +voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good. +He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never +arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way +discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night +and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor +Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done +that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it +not?" + +"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely +knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange +one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft +air blowing, and the night is fine." + +"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?" + +"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject. + +She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the +air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is +always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should +impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be +so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he +will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night +you will counsel, you will advise me?" + +"Command me entirely," I said. + +"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be +quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and +is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I +winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my +acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a +marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused +Mrs. Carew to call "Come in." + +A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress. + +"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked. + +"Yes, madam," replied the servant. + +"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys." + +When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she +wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied +her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and +peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his +features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some +fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone +through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before +realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips, +the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual +power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or +wavering. He was a man capable of a great career. + +"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind +was the most comprehensive he had ever met with." + +She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing +him. We trod gently out of the room. + +"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's +room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door. + +"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly. + +"No, mamma. I shall be, soon." + +"Don't remain up too long, my dear." + +"No, mamma." + +"Good night, Mildred." + +"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?" + +"Yes, child!" + +"I have just given Reginald your love." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"And I have told him not to remain away too long." + +"That is right, my dear." + +"Good night, dearest mamma." + +"Good night, my dearest." + +"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for +the hopes of that young girl!" + +In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her +husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys +given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power +to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his +thought." + + + + + XXVI. + + +I relate in my own words the strange story Mrs. Carew imparted to me. +Although she had erred, her confession was like a rift of sweet light +in the dark clouds which hung over Rosemullion. It brought more than +hope and comfort to my old heart--it brought joy. In a very few +moments you will understand the meaning of my words. + +Transport yourself back to the village of Nerac, a year after the +marriage of Lauretta and Gabriel Carew. Business of a particular +nature took Carew from Nerac for a space of three months; he was +absent that time, much against his will, for his wife was near her +confinement. This took place safely two weeks after his departure, and +he was duly informed of the event. All was well at home; Lauretta and +her baby girl were thriving. The days and the weeks passed until two +months went by. Carew, in his letters to his wife, expressed the +profoundest joy at this precious home blessing. Smarting as he was +during that period from the growing coldness of the villagers towards +him, and chafing at the injustice of the world, he placed an +extravagant value upon this baby girl, who would be, he said, a charm +against all evil. He longed for the time when he could hold this +blessing in his loving arms; now his happiness was complete; he asked +for no greater treasure. In the growth and development of the new +young life he would find solace and consolation. His wife was enjoined +to take the most tender care of their child. "You and she are one," +Carew wrote. "Each is incomplete without the other. I cannot think of +you now apart. Were I to lose one my life would be plunged into +darkness." Then befel an event which brought horror and grief to +Lauretta. It happened that her nurse had fallen sick, and was +compelled to go to her own home; there was no other female servant in +the establishment capable of undertaking a nurse's duties, and +Lauretta therefore took them cheerfully on herself. Two months, as I +have said, had passed after the birth of the baby girl. Carew was +expected home in a fortnight. + +In the dead of night, when all in the house were asleep, with the +exception of Lauretta, she, watching by the cradle of her baby, heard +a sound of moaning without. She listened intently; it was her own name +that she heard uttered in accents of deepest pain and suffering. It +was a wild night; heavy rain was falling, the wind was raging; and +through the sounds of the storm came the wailing of her name, with +half-choked sobs and entreaties for help and pity. + +It was but an hour before that Lauretta, awaking, had heard proceed +from her baby-girl lying in the cradle by her bedside, some light +sounds of difficult breathing which had alarmed her. She got up and +dressed, and tended her baby, who, after a while, seemed a little +easier; but with the natural anxiety of a young mother Lauretta +remained awake watching her child. + +The moans for help outside appeared to be especially addressed to her +and to her alone, and she seemed to recognise the voice. She crept +softly down, and unfastened the door. + +"Who is there?" she asked, during a lull in the storm. + +The answer came--"Patricia! Help me! Oh help me, and let no one know!" + +It was Emilius's wife. + +Lauretta assisted her indoors. The poor girl was in a pitiable plight. +Famished, ragged, penniless, with a baby in her arms. Both were +wringing wet. The pelting rain had soaked them through and through. + +Throbbing with sympathy and compassion Lauretta quickly undressed +Patricia's baby, and put it in her own warm bed. They had by this time +reached Lauretta's bedroom, in which her own child was lying. Lauretta +wished to call the servants, but Patricia sobbed that she would fly +the house if any eyes but Lauretta's rested on her. It appeared, +according to the poor girl's story, that her father was in pursuit of +her, and had vowed to kill her and her baby. + +"He will kill me--he will kill me!" moaned Patricia. "No one must know +I have been here but you--no one, no one!" + +And then she rocked herself hysterically and cried, "What will become +of my poor baby-girl--what will become of her? I heard that your +husband was not here, and it gave me courage to crawl to you. Not that +it matters much. It isn't for myself I care. My father may kill me--I +have not long to live--but my baby, my baby! Oh, save my darling, save +her for the sake of my innocent Emilius!" + +It was then that Lauretta noticed for the first time, signs in +Patricia's face which, interpreted by her fear and the poor girl's +words, seemed to be signs of approaching death. And still Patricia +insisted that she would not remain in the house; no force or +entreaties could make her. + +"What, then, can I do for you?" asked Lauretta; she had already given +Patricia food and money. + +"Take care of my child," replied Patricia. "Bring her up as your own. +Let her never know her father's disgrace, her mother's shame. It will +be an angel's deed! For pity's sake, do not deny me! You are rich, and +can afford the charity--and if, in your husband's life there has been +guilt, this act of charity will atone for it. See here--look on her +innocent face. Having the power, you have not the heart to deny me. +Ah, if your angel mother were alive, I should appeal to her, and +should not appeal in vain! She loved Emilius, and believed in his +innocence--yes, to the last she believed in it. I know it for a +certainty. You, too, loved my poor martyred husband, and he loved and +honoured you and yours with all the strength of his faithful heart. He +is innocent, innocent, I tell you! God forbid that I should accuse any +one of being guilty--I am too desperate and despairing, and my child's +life, the salvation of her soul, are at stake. When your sainted +mother died, did all goodness die out of the world? Ah, no--it is not +possible; you live again in her. In you she lives again, and all her +mercy and sweet kindness which caused us all, from the highest to the +lowest, to worship her, to look upon her as something holy. For her +sake, if not for my own, you cannot, cannot deny me this charity, you +who have it in your power to grant it!" + +All this, and more. To say that Lauretta's heart was touched is +inadequate; it overflowed; it yearned to assist the suffering mother, +so near to her through her young motherhood, through the old ties with +Emilius and Eric. A choking cry from her own baby-girl caused her to +rush to the cradle. Within the hour a fatal circumstance occurred. +Lauretta's baby drew her last breath. + +It has nearly all my days been my belief that everything in human life +is to be accounted for by human standards. I am shaken in this belief. +In this death of Lauretta's baby I seem to see the finger of fate. + +Vain to attempt to describe the agonising grief of the young mother. +So overpowering was it that she lost consciousness. She recovered her +senses when the storm had passed and the morning's light was shining +on her. When she awoke to reality, what did she see? + +Her husband had suddenly and unexpectedly returned home. She was in +bed, and he was sitting by her side. + +"Gabriel, Gabriel!" she cried, and, overcome by the terror of her +great loss, she would have lost consciousness again but for an +unaccountable joyousness in his manner, which mingled strangely with +the sympathy he must have felt for her suffering condition. + +"It was, doubtless, the storm," he said soothingly. "It raged so +fiercely for an hour and more, that I am told it exceeded in violence +anything of a like kind that has been experienced in these parts for +the last fifty years. No wonder it has had such an effect upon you. +Half the trees in our garden are uprooted. It hastened my steps home, +for I know how these convulsions of nature affect you. But as you see, +the danger has passed; the sun is shining brightly; but not more +brightly in the heavens than it is shining in my heart." + +She listened to him in amazement, and raising herself in bed she +looked around for Patricia. She saw no sign of the hapless woman. The +cradle in which her baby-girl had died was by the side of the bed. +Carew bent over it and said in a tone of ecstasy: + +"Mildred--Mildred! Our Mildred--our dear ewe lamb! How sweetly and +soundly she sleeps! Oh, my darling wife! What care I for the injustice +of the world now that this treasure is ours? My sweet--my sweet! You +recompense for all. Do you know, Lauretta, as travelling home I neared +the beloved spot which contained you and our treasure, my heart almost +stood still at the fear that I should not find you both well. And +now--how can I be sufficiently grateful? Of no account to me is all +that transpires outside the circle which contains you and my dear one +in the cradle here? I set great store upon our child, Lauretta. She is +to me a guarantee of all that is worth living for in the present and +the future. When I arrived home and found you prostrate I was at first +overwhelmed, but I soon discovered that you had fainted, and I judged +rightly, did I not, dear wife of my heart, that, not being strong, you +kept it from me while we were apart, in order not to distress me? But +now all is well--all shall be well. See, Lauretta, she opens her eyes, +our darling. The question is, can I raise her safely and place her by +your side? Yes, it is done, and I am the happiest father in the +world!" + +Was she dreaming? In the clothes in which her child died rested this +child of Patricia's, smiling, blooming, laughing and crowing as +Lauretta drew her to her breast. Carew's delight, his gratitude, his +worship of the babe he believed to be his own, the superstitious store +he set upon her young life, were so unbounded, that Lauretta did not +dare to undeceive him. She feared, if she told him the truth, that it +would unsettle his reason, and produce between her and him a gulf +which could never be bridged over. She accepted the strange +combination of circumstances, and held her tongue. Her own dear babe +was dead, but this new Mildred, whom she grew to love truly as if she +were her own, remained, and grew to what she is, a flower of beauty, +goodness, and sweetness. Nothing more did Lauretta hear of Patricia; +whether she died or lived was not known to her. It is but a +detail--but necessary to complete the story--to state here that +Patricia lived but a few months after the occurrence of this strange +event. More important is it to state that, in some unexplained way, +Emilius learns that his daughter lived, and that the Carews were +bringing her up as if she were a child of their own. His term of +imprisonment over, he had come now to claim her. + +It would be impossible for me to give expression to my feelings of +gratitude at this wonderful revelation. The despair into which I had +fallen at the contemplation of the wrecking of my dear son Reginald's +happiness vanished. A fair future lay still before him, and the most +cherished hopes of his heart would be realised. I was sure that +Emilius would not mar them. A nature so noble as his, so strong in +suffering, so heroic in the highest form of human endurance, could not +lend itself to the committal of a petty act of selfishness whereby the +child upon whose memory he had lived during his cruel and unjust +imprisonment would be rendered miserable and unhappy. To this martyred +man I was ready to bow my head, ready to give him my friendship, my +sympathy, my heart's best fruits of confidence and esteem. Thinking of +him, I was awed that a man could live through the anguish that had +been his portion, and still retain the inherent dignity and nobility +of a great and noble nature. + + + + + XXVII. + + +"Hark!" whispered Mrs. Carew, her story told, and before we had time +to debate upon the wisest course to pursue. "What sound is that?" + +It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In this sound there was +no attempt at concealment. The footsteps were those of one who desired +his presence to be known. I divined instantly who it was who, by some +means unknown to me, obtaining an entrance into the house, was now +approaching the room in which Mrs. Carew and I were sitting. I could +not, and did not blame him. In his place I should have acted as he was +acting. + +The silver clock chimed the hour of twelve. + +"You will see him," I said, rising to my feet and advancing to the +door. + +"See whom?" asked Mrs. Carew, with her hand at her heart. + +"Emilius. It is he and no other man who is coming here. He has a great +stake in this house. He is justified." + +"My husband?" she gasped. + +"Is safe, if you will only be guided by me. It is your duty to be +brave and strong. Never was courage more needed than at this moment. +And not only courage, but wisdom. Decide quickly. There is no time to +lose." + +"I will be guided by you," she said faintly. + +I threw open the door, and saw Emilius standing in the passage, +uncertain which direction to take. + +"Enter," I said in a low tone. "Mrs. Carew is here. For the sake of +others be gentle, and do not alarm the house." + +He entered, and Mrs. Carew and he stood face to face. + +The native dignity of the man instantly asserted itself. He removed +his ragged cap and stood bareheaded before her. But there was no +cringing in his attitude. It was perfectly respectful--something, +indeed, more than that; it was the attitude of a man who once was this +sweet lady's equal, and who, despite the judgment of the world, still +knew himself to be her equal, and worthy of the esteem she once +accorded to him. But as he gazed upon her, and she upon him, in +silence for a few moments--a silence which I did not dare to +break--his stern mood melted. He saw and recognised her, as he had +always seen and recognised her in the time that was gone, when he was +entitled to hold up his head among men--but never more so in truth and +honour than now--a gentle-mannered lady, in whose face shone the +reflex of a sweet and womanly nature. Remembrances of the past rushed +upon him and softened him. + +"Forgive me," he said humbly. + +And then--tears filled my eyes as I saw it, and knew the suffering she +was bravely enduring--she held out her hand to him. He bowed his head +over it, as for a moment he held it in his. + +"I could not wait any longer," he said, softly. "I have entered like a +thief into your house--but I have waited so long!" + +"It is I who should ask for forgiveness," she said. "Emilius, be +merciful to me and mine!" + +"I have no thought of revenge," he said, in a voice as soft as her +own. "I am a broken-down man, with one sole hope. But I could not +stand before you, the Lauretta I loved with the pure love of a +brother, if I did not know myself unstained by crime or any taint of +dishonour." + +"I believe you, Emilius," she said. + +"You believe me, Lauretta!" he exclaimed, advancing a step towards +her. + +"I believe you, Emilius," she repeated. + +Had he come with savage intent she could not more surely have disarmed +him. + +"It is more than I dared hope for," he said. "How often, Lauretta, in +the gloom of my prison, have I thought of you and your dear parents, +of the home of innocence and love in which I was ever a welcome guest, +of the once happy village in which I was honoured and respected. Some +crumbs of comfort fell to my lot, some gleam of light shone through +the darkness. Had it not been so, and had I not been animated by +another hope, I might have gone mad. Good Father Daniel visited me +regularly, at permitted intervals, until he died. He had the firmest +faith in my innocence, and he brought me messages which fell like +heavenly balm upon my wounded spirit. Your sainted mother believed in +my innocence, and she bade him tell me so, and that her love for me +was unchanged. And now, you! But your mother's soul shines in your +eyes. It could not have been otherwise." He paused a moment or two, +reflecting what to say. "On one of Father Daniel's visits he brought +me a letter, securely sealed. It was against the prison rules, but +that did not deter him from doing what he deemed to be right. I +hastily concealed it, noting first, however, with a beating heart, +that it was addressed to me in my wife's handwriting. I asked him if +he knew what it contained, and he answered 'No;' and then, with a +grave face, he bade me prepare for solemn news. I felt at once what +was coming. Can you divine my purpose, Lauretta, in telling you this?" + +"I think I can," she replied. "Go on." + +"It was while the good priest was on a mission of mercy that a +villager came to him and said that in a hut hard by a woman was dying, +and, hearing that he was in the neighbourhood, begged him to come to +her. Father Daniel went, and discovered that the woman was Patricia, +my wife. She was very near to death, and she had only strength to +entreat him to deliver to me, secretly, a letter she had written. He +promised to do so, and in a few minutes after he received it from her +she drew her last breath. Before she died he asked her after her +babe--for Patricia was quite alone--but she did not seem to understand +him. Subsequently, however, he learnt from the villager that Patricia +had said her baby was dead. This was the mournful news which Father +Daniel conveyed to me in prison. Despite his attempts at consolation, +I felt when he left me that I was truly alone in the world. Brother, +wife, child, all dead! I prayed to God to send death to me soon. +What had I to live for? But there was my wife's letter, and before +twenty-four hours had passed I found an opportunity to read it. +Lauretta, that letter informed me what had become of my child, and it +laid upon me an obligation of secrecy for so long a time as I was in +prison. Patricia solemnly adjured me not to breathe to a living soul +that our child lived in your care; but I was to be released from this +obligation when I was a free man. Then I was to act as it seemed to me +right to act. Is there any need, Lauretta, for me to enter more fully +into the particulars of Patricia's letter?" + +"There is no need, Emilius." + +"Except, perhaps, to say that when you were lying senseless before +her, and your tender blossom lay dead in its cradle, it was only then +that the idea entered Patricia's mind of changing the children's +clothes, and leaving her baby with you. It was done, and Patricia +stole away with your dead child at her breast, herself to die, as she +well knew, before many weeks had passed. I have something to tell you, +Lauretta"--and here Emilius's voice was charged with a new note of +tenderness. "When Father Daniel next visited me I begged him to +discover where the dead babe was buried, and to put a few flowers on +the grave. The good priest did more. He paid a village woman to attend +to it, and he left a small sum of money to be spent in beautifying the +grave of your child. Flowers have grown upon it and around it from +that day to this. I visited the grave before I set forth on my journey +here, and I knelt and prayed there. I prayed a blessing upon you, +Lauretta, and I prayed that I might live to see the hope fulfilled +which shone like a star upon me through the long years of my prison +life. Lauretta," he cried, stretching forth his trembling hands, "my +child--my child"-- + +"She lives," sobbed Mrs. Carew, "in goodness, health, and beauty--a +flower of sweetness!" + +He fell upon his knees before her, and kissed her dress, and it was +then I heard a sound without which, for a moment, transfixed me with +terror. They, overwhelmed by emotion, were deaf to this sound. It was +that of a man creeping stealthily from his chamber--and that man +Gabriel Carew. Quickly recovering myself, and feeling the necessity +for immediate and prompt action, I addressed Emilius and Mrs. Carew. + +"Attend to me," I said impressively. "All is well with you. You, +Emilius, have gained a daughter, and will embrace her at sunrise. You, +dear lady, have not lost a daughter, for Mildred will be to you as she +has ever been. I have proved myself your friend. Answer quickly--have +I not?" + +"Yes," they both replied. + +"Do not, therefore, ask me for the reasons for my present action. I +demand from you both a sacred promise--that you will not leave this +room till I call for you, till I give you permission. It shall be +given at the latest by sunrise. I must have this promise--I must!" + +My voice, my manner, Mrs. Carew's fears for her husband, and +confidence in me, compelled assent. + +"We give it," she said. + +"We give it," said Emilius. + +"I accept it, and bind you to it. What I do is for the good of +all--for your future, for Mildred's future--and to avert disaster. +Only I can do this. Whatever you hear, you will not open this door +without my permission, after I leave it. When I am gone, turn the key, +and admit no one unless I desire it. It is understood?" + +"Yes," they said, "it is understood." + +As I closed the door behind me I heard the key turned in the lock. + + + + + XXVIII. + + +The sound of soft footsteps proceeded, as I supposed, from Gabriel +Carew, but to my surprise he was not coming towards the room I had +just left, but was stealthily ascending the stairs which led to +Mildred's room. His eyes were open, and his movements were dictated by +intelligent caution, but he was asleep. In his left hand he carried +the naked dagger. + +I ran up the stairs softly and swiftly, heedless of danger to myself, +and walked by his side. He took no notice of me. Standing by the door +of Mildred's room he paused, and was about to put his hand to the +handle when I seized his wrist. + +"What are you about to do?" I whispered, my lips close to his ear. +"Speak low, the house must not be disturbed." + +To my horror, he replied, in a whisper as low and distinct as my own: +"'Our race must die with him; not one must live after him to +perpetuate it. I lay this injunction most solemnly upon him; if he +violate it he will be an incredible monster.'" + +They were the words written by his father which he had already quoted +to me earlier in the day. + +"Your daughter is not in that room," I said, not raising my voice, +grateful that we had as yet attracted no notice. "If you enter, your +purpose will be frustrated." + +"Who speaks to me?" he asked. + +"The spirit of murder," I said. "The Devil who is leading your soul to +perdition. Come with me. I will direct you aright." + +He shuddered, but he did not hesitate. With my hand still firmly +grasping his wrist, he allowed me to lead him from the room. We +descended the stairs, slowly, stealthily, until we reached the landing +upon which the study was situated. I led him into the room, and with +lightning motion locked the door and plucked out the key. Then, +uncertain how next to act, I took my hand from his wrist, and +retreated a few steps. He, also, was now uncertain of his movements. +He stood still a while, then tried the door, and finding it fast, took +some halting steps this way and that, and finally fell into the chair +in which he had been accustomed to write. + +As I gazed upon him I was sensible of a gradual change in his +appearance. A pallor crept into his face, a film seemed to come across +his eyes. Alarmed, I grasped his shoulder with rough strength, and +shook him violently. + +"Mr. Carew!" I called. + +He trembled in every limb, closed his eyes, and clasped them with his +hands--in one of which he still held the dagger. Presently he removed +his hands from his face, and looked confusedly at me. + +"Are you awake?" I asked. + +"Yes," he replied faintly. "Give me a glass of water." + +I gave him a full glass, and he drained it. I observed as he did so +that it was only by an effort he prevented it from slipping from his +hand. Then he spoke again. + +"How came I here?" he asked. "Skilful as you are in your profession, +you can do nothing for me. How came I here?" + +"I conducted you hither," I said, "from the door of Mildred's room. +You have a dagger in your hand." + +Until this moment he seemed to be unconscious that he held the weapon, +and now he started and allowed it to drop to the ground. + +"Give thanks to God," I said solemnly, "that I stepped forward in time +to save the life of an innocent child." + +"Great God!" he murmured. "It is fit that I should die!" + +The silver chimes of the clock proclaimed the hour of two. He smiled +piteously and gratefully, and said, "It is almost time." + +"There is a hidden meaning in your words," I said. "What have you +done?" + +"Doctor, you are wrong. There is no hidden meaning in my words. All is +clear and plain. What should I do to myself? What should be done to +such a man as I? You are not deceiving me. You found me, you say, at +the door of my daughter's room, with the dagger in my hand?" + +"It is true." + +"Then my purpose was murder. What further confirmation is needed of +the truth of my father's revelation? Be thankful, doctor, that your +son Reginald has escaped from my daughter, my miserable, unhappy +child. Ah, me! Whose fate is the heaviest, hers or mine, or the +innocent flower I married?" + +"I can give you some comfort," I said. "In one respect I can set your +heart at ease." + +"Impossible, impossible!" he cried. + +"Not so. I have that to relate which though at first it may cause you +pain, cannot fail, upon reflection, to make you grateful. If I were to +tell you that you have not transmitted to an innocent girl the fatal +inheritance which has weighed like a curse upon your life, how would +it be with you?" + +"It would be heaven--it would be light! Unconscious sinner as I am, it +might mean forgiveness!" + +"I have been closeted with your wife, from whose lips I have heard +what you should hear. You will listen to me?" + +"Will you be long?" he asked, with a strange smile. + +"I will be as brief as possible--and receive it from me, as I received +it from your wife, that every word I utter is true." + +I told him the story of Mildred, who until now he had believed to be +his daughter. Perceiving that he was ill, I shortened it as much as +possible. Once or twice I paused in my recital, and asked him if he +was in pain. + +"In pain!" he cried. "When you are bringing heaven to me! The +agitation you observe in me proceeds from joy. Do not linger. Finish +quickly, quickly!" + +At the chiming of the half-hour my story was done. There was a happy +light in Carew's eyes. White as his face had grown, peace had stolen +into it. + +"Oh, God, I thank Thee!" he murmured, raising his arms; and then he +suddenly fell forward on his face. + +"I raised his head, and assisted him into a recumbent position. + +"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried. + +"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. +"First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you +not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..." + +"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his +daughter that he came to England." + +"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my +angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... +It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked +of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these +years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the +subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go +quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no +pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!" + +I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay +back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his +face. But he was dead! + + * * * * * + +It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were +in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. +What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own +lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his +dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of +an awful crime. + + * * * * * + +A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it +was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife +had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done +in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from +poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last +resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to +look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion. + +Emilius stood bareheaded by my side. + +"God forgive him!" said Emilius. + + * * * * * + +The disclosure of Mildred's real parentage made no difference in the +relations between her and Mrs. Carew. It was mother and daughter with +them, as it had always been, and even some additional and subtle tie +of new tenderness was added to the feelings of love for each other +which will animate their hearts till the last hours of their lives. + +No one in the county, with the exception of ourselves, is acquainted +with the story of Emilius. A dignified, gentle-mannered gentleman, he +quickly won the esteem of all who came in contact with him. There +often reigns in his face a strange expression of sadness, and he +sometimes speaks to me of Eric; but there is joy in his life, and he +is grateful for it. + +The marriage of Mildred and Reginald was postponed for a decent time, +and then these young people were made happy, and sent upon their +honeymoon, accompanied by blessings and tears and heartfelt wishes for +good. + +As I prepare to end my task I see in my mind's eye the form of one +who, in every act of her life, in every gentle word that falls from +her lips, has sanctified for me the name of Woman. Not only in idea, +but in deed. "God bless Mrs. Carew!" is said by many out of her +hearing, and if to live a good pure life will earn God's blessing, she +has earned it, and it is hers. + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + Richard Clay And Sons + London And Bungay. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3), by +B. L. 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