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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/31984-8.txt b/31984-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f3371a --- /dev/null +++ b/31984-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17584 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Life Sentence, by Adeline Sergeant + +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 Life Sentence + A Novel + +Author: Adeline Sergeant + +Release Date: April 14, 2010 [EBook #31984] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + A LIFE SENTENCE. + + + A NOVEL. + + + BY + ADELINE SERGEANT, + _Author of "The Luck of the House," "Under False + Pretences," etc., etc._ + + + + + MONTREAL: + JOHN LOVELL & SON, + 23 St. Nicholas Street. + + + + +Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by John Lovell +& Son, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and Statistics at +Ottawa. + + + + +A LIFE SENTENCE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?" + +"We find the prisoner guilty, my lord." + +A curious little thrill of emotion--half sigh, half sob--ran through the +crowded court. Even the most callous, the most world-hardened, of human +beings cannot hear unmoved the verdict which condemns a fellow-creature +to a shameful death. The spectators of Andrew Westwood's trial for the +murder of Sydney Vane had expected, had predicted, the result; yet it +came with the force of a shock to their excited nerves. The trial had +lasted for two whole days already, and the level rays of sunshine that +streamed through the west windows of the court-house showed that the +afternoon of a third day was drawing to a close. The attention of the +patient sitters with whom the seats were closely packed had been +strained to the uttermost; the faces of many were white and weary, or +flushed with excitement and fatigue. The short absence of the jurymen +had only strung their nerves to a higher pitch; and the slight murmur +that passed through the heavy air when the verdict was made known showed +the tension which had been reached. + +The prisoner was well known in the locality, and so also had been his +victim. This fact accounted for the crowding of the court by friends and +acquaintances of the man murdered and his murderer, and for the +breathless interest with which every step of the legal process had been +followed. Apart from this, the case had excited much attention all over +England; the papers had been filled with its details, and a good deal of +discussion on the laws of circumstantial evidence had arisen during its +course. Not that there could be any reasonable doubt as to the +prisoner's guilt. True, nobody had seen him commit the crime. But he was +a poacher of evil character and violent disposition; he had been sent to +gaol for snaring rabbits by Mr. Vane, and had repeatedly vowed vengeance +upon him; there was a presumption against him from the very first. Then +one evening he had been seen lurking about a covert near which Mr. Vane +passed shortly afterwards; shots were heard by passers-by and Mr. Vane +was discovered lying amongst the springing bracken in the depths of a +shadowy copse, shot through the heart. A scrap of rough tweed found in +the dead man's hand was said to correspond with a torn corner of +Westwood's coat, and the murder was supposed to have been committed by +the poacher with a gun which was afterwards found in Westwood's cottage. +Several persons testified that they had seen Andrew issuing from the +copse or walking along the neighboring road, before or after the hour +when Mr. Vane met his fate, that he had his gun in his hand, that his +demeanor was strange, and that his clothes seemed to have been torn in a +scuffle. Little by little the evidence accumulated against him until it +proved irresistible. Facts which seemed small in themselves became large +and black, and charged with damnatory significance in the lawyer's +hands. The best legal talent of the country was used with crushing +effect against poor Andrew Westwood. Sydney Vane had been a popular man; +he belonged to a well-known county family, and had left a widow and +child. His friends would have moved heaven and earth to bring his +murderer to justice. After all--as was said later--the man Westwood +never had a chance. What availed his steady sullen denial against the +mass of circumstantial evidence accumulated against him? The rope was +round his neck from the time when that morsel of cloth was found clasped +close in the dead man's hand. + +If there had been a moment when the hearts of his enemies were softened, +when a throb of pity was felt even by Sydney Vane's elder brother, the +implacable old General who had vowed that he would pursue Andrew +Westwood to the death, it was when the prisoner's little daughter had +been put into the witness-box to give evidence against her father. Every +one felt that the moment was terrible, the situation almost unbearable. +The child was eleven years old, a brown, thin, frightened-looking +little creature, with unnaturally large dark eyes and masses of thick +dark hair. Her appearance evidently agitated the prisoner. He looked at +her with an expression of anguish, and wrung his gaunt nervous hands +together with a groan that haunted for many a long year the memories of +those who heard it. The child's dilated black eyes fixed themselves upon +him, and her lips, drawn back a little from her teeth, turned ashy +white. No one who saw her pathetic little face could feel anything but +compassion for her, and a wish to spare her as much as possible. + +The counsel certainly wished to spare her. Only one or two questions +were to be asked, and these were not of great importance; but at the +very outset a difficulty occurred. She was small for her age, and the +judge chose to ask whether she was aware of the nature of an oath. He +got no answer but a frightened stare. A few more questions plainly +revealed a state of extraordinary ignorance on the child's part. Did she +know who made her? No. Had she not heard of God? No. Did she attach any +meaning to the words "heaven" or "hell?" Not in the very least. By her +own showing, Andrew Westwood's little daughter was no better than a +heathen. + +The judge decided that her evidence need not be taken, and made a severe +remark about the unwisdom of bringing so young and untaught a witness +into court, especially when--as appeared to him--the child was of feeble +intellect and weakly constitution. + +It was murmured in reply that the girl had previously shown herself +quick-witted and ready of tongue, and that it was only since the shock +of her father's arrest that she had lapsed into her present state of +apparent semi-imbecility. No further attempt was made however to bring +her forward; and little Jenny Westwood, as she was usually called, on +stepping down from the box, was bidden to go away, as the court in which +her father was being tried for his life was no place for her. But she +did not go. She shrank into a corner, and waited until the Court rose +that day. In the morning she came again, resisting all efforts made by +some kindly countrywomen to take her away to their homes. She did not +speak, but struggled out of their hands with so wild a look in her great +black eyes that they shrank back from her aghast, whispering to each +other that she was purely "not right in the head," and perhaps they had +better leave her alone. They made her sit beside them, and tried to +persuade her to share the food that they had brought to eat in the +middle of the day; but they did not succeed in their kindly efforts. The +child seemed stupefied; she had a blind look, and did not respond when +spoken to. + +She heard the foreman declare the finding of the jury--"Guilty, my +lord," but she hardly knew at that moment what was meant. Then came the +usual question. Had the prisoner anything to say? Was there any defence +which even now he desired to urge, any plea in mitigation of his crime? + +Andrew Westwood raised his head. He had a sullen, defiant countenance; +his wild dark eyes, the shock of black hair tumbled across his lowering +brows, his rugged features, had told against him in popular estimation +and given him a ruffianly aspect in the eyes of the crowd; and yet, when +he stood up, and with a sudden rough gesture tossed the hair back from +his brows, and faced the judge with a look of unflinching resolution, it +was felt that the man possessed a rude dignity which compelled something +very like admiration. Courage always commands respect, and, whatever his +faults, his vices, his crimes might be, Andrew Westwood was a courageous +man. He gripped the rail of the dock before him with both hands, and +gave a quick look round the court before he spoke. His face was a little +paler than usual, but his strong, hard voice did not falter. + +"I have only to say what I said before. I take God to witness that I am +innocent of this murder, and I pray that He'll punish the man that did +kill Mr. Vane and left me to bear the burden of his crime! That's all I +have to say, my lord. You may hang me if you like--I swear that I never +killed him; and I curse the hand that did!" + +The hard, defiant tone of his speech effectually dissipated the +momentary sympathy felt for him by his audience. The judge sternly cut +him short, and said a few solemn words on the heinousness of his offence +and the impenitence which he had evinced. Then came the tragic +conclusion of the scene. + +It had grown late; lights were brought in and placed before the judge, +upon whose scarlet robes and pale, agitated face they flickered +strangely in the draught from an open window at the back of the +court-house. The greater part of the building was in shadow; here and +there a chance ray of light rested on one or two in a row of raised +faces, and threw some insignificant countenance into startling temporary +distinctness. A breathless hush pervaded the whole room. Every eye was +fixed on the central figures of the scene--on the criminal as he stood +with hands still grasping the side of the dock, his head defiantly +raised, his shoulders braced as if to support a blow; on the judge, +whose pale features quivered with emotion as he donned the black cap and +uttered the fatal words which condemned Andrew Westwood to meet death by +the hangman's hand. + +"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!" + +The words were scarcely spoken before a loud scream rang through the +hall. Westwood turned round sharply; his eyes roved anxiously over the +throng of faces, and seemed to pierce the gloom that had gathered about +the benches in the background. He saw a little group of persons gathered +about the body of a child whom they were carrying into the fresh air. It +was his own little daughter who had cried out and fainted at the sound +of those fateful words. + +The prisoner was instantly removed by two warders; but it was noted that +before he left the dock he threw up his hands as if in a wild gesture of +supplication to the heavens that would not hear. He made eager inquiries +of the warders as to the welfare of his child; and it was perhaps owing +to the compassion of one of them that the chaplain came to him an hour +later in his cell with news of her. She was better, she was in the hands +of kindly women who would take care of her, and she would come to see +her father by-and-bye. A convulsive twitch passed over Andrew's face. + +"No, no," he said; "I don't want to see her. What good would that do?" + +The chaplain, a kindly man whose sensibilities were not yet blunted by +the painful scenes through which he had constantly to pass, uttered a +word of remonstrance. + +"Surely," he said, "you would like to see her again? She seems to love +you dearly." + +"I'm not saying that I don't love her myself," said the man, turning +away his face. Then, after a moment's pause, and in a stifled +voice--"She's dearer to me than the apple of my eye. And that's where +the sting is. I'm to go out of the world, it seems, with a blot on my +name, and she'll never know who put it there." + +"If you saw her yourself----" + +"Nay," said Westwood resolutely--"I won't see her again. She'd remember +me all her life then, and she'd better forget. You're a good man, sir, +and a kind--couldn't you take her away somewhere out of hearing of all +this commotion, to some place where they would not know her father's +story, and where she'd never hear whether he was alive or dead?" + +The chaplain shook his head. + +"I'm afraid not, Westwood," he said compassionately. "I know of no place +where she could be safe from gossip." + +"She will hear my story wherever she goes, I suppose you mean," said +Westwood wearily. "Ah, well, she will learn to bear it in time, poor +soul." + +The chaplain looked at him curiously. There was more sincerity of tone, +less cant and affectation in this man than in any criminal he had ever +known. + +"I suppose, sir," said the prisoner, after a short silence, during which +he sat with his eyes fixed on the floor--"I suppose there is no chance +of a reprieve--of the sentence being commuted?" + +"I'm afraid not, Westwood. And you must let me say that your own conduct +during the trial makes it more improbable that any commutation of the +sentence should be obtained. If, my man, you could have shown any +penitence--if you had confessed your crime----" + +"The crime that I never committed?" said Westwood, with a flash of his +sullen dark eyes. "Ah, you all speak alike! It's the same +story--'Confess--repent.' I may have plenty to confess and repent of, +but not this, for I never murdered Sydney Vane." + +The chaplain shook his head. + +"I am sorry that you persist in your story," he said sadly. "I had hoped +that you would come to a better mind." + +"Do you want me to go into eternity with a lie on my lips?" asked +Westwood, fiercely. "I tell you that I am speaking the truth now. My +coat was torn on a briar; I fired my gun at a crow as I went over the +fields to my cottage. I saw a man go into the copse after Mr. Vane just +as I came out. Find him, if you want to know who killed Mr. Vane." + +"You have told us the same story before," said the chaplain, in a +discouraged tone. "For your own sake, Westwood, I wish I could believe +you. Who was the man? What was he like? Where did he go? Unless those +questions are answered, it is impossible that your story should be +believed." + +"I can't answer them," said Westwood, in a sullen tone. "I did not know +the man, and I did not look at him. All I know is that he has murdered +me as well as Mr. Vane, and blasted the life of my innocent child. And I +shall pray God night and morning as long as the breath is in my body to +punish him, and to bring shame and sorrow on himself and all that he +loves, as he has brought shame and sorrow on me and mine." + +Then he turned his face to the wall and would say no more. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Beechfield Hall was the name of the old manor-house in which the Vanes +had lived for many generations. The present head of the family, General +Richard Vane, was a man of fifty-five, a childless widower, whose +interests centred in the management of his estate and the welfare of his +brother Sydney and Sydney's wife and child. In the natural course of +events, Sydney would eventually have succeeded to the property. It had +always been a matter of regret to the General that neither he nor his +brother had a son; and, when Sydney's life was prematurely cut short, +the General's real grief for his brother's loss was deepened and +embittered by the thought that the last chance of an heir was gone, and +that the family name--one of the most ancient in the county--would soon +become extinct, for a daughter did not count in the General's +meditation. It did not occur to his mind as within the limits of +possibility that he himself should marry again. He had always hoped that +Sydney--twenty years younger than himself, and the husband of a fair +and blooming wife--would have a son to bear his name. Hitherto the +Sydney Vanes had been unfortunate in their offsprings. Of five beautiful +children only one had lived beyond the first few months of babyhood--and +that one was a girl! But father, mother, and uncle had gone on hoping +for better things. Now it seemed likely that little Enid, the +nine-year-old daughter, would be the last of the Vanes, and that with +the General the name of the family would finally die out. + +Beechfield Hall had long been known as one of the pleasantest houses in +the county. It was a large red-brick, comfortable-looking mansion, made +picturesque by a background of lofty trees, and by the ivy and Virginia +creeper and clematis in which it was embowered, rather than by the style +of its architecture. Along the front of the building ran a wide terrace, +with stone balustrades and flights of steps at either end leading to the +flower garden, which sloped down to an ornamental piece of water fed by +springs from the rich meadow-land beyond. This terrace and the +exquisitely-kept garden gave the house a stateliness of aspect, which it +would have lost if severed from its surroundings; but the General was +proud of every stick and stone about the place, and could never be +brought to see that its beauty existed chiefly in his own fond +imagination. + +Whether Beechfield Hall was beautiful or not, however, mattered little +to the county squires and their families, to whom it had been for many +years a centre of life and gaiety. The General and his brother were +hunting-men; they had a capital stud, and were always ready to give +their friends a mount in the hunting season. They preserved strictly, +and could offer good shooting and good fishing to their neighbors; and +they were liberal of such offers--they were generous and hospitable in +every sense of the word. Mrs. Sydney Vane was of a similar disposition. +Her dances, her dinners, her garden-parties, were said to be the most +enjoyable in the county. She was young and pretty, vivacious and +agreeable, as fond of society as her husband and her brother-in-law, +always ready to fill her house with guests, to make up a party or +organise a pic-nic, adored by all young people in the neighborhood, the +chosen friend and confidante of half the older ones. And now the +innocent mirth and cordial hospitality of Beechfield Hall had come to +an untimely end. Poor Sydney Vane was laid to rest in the little green +churchyard behind the woodland slope which fronted the terrace and the +lawn. His wife, prostrated by the shock of his death, had never left her +room since the news of it was brought to her; his brother, the genial +and warm-hearted General, looked for the first time like a feeble old +man, and seemed almost beside himself. Even little Enid was pale and +frightened, and had lost her inclination for mirth and laughter. The +servants moved about in their sombre mourning garments with grave faces +and hushed, awe-stricken ways. It seemed almost incredible that so great +a misfortune should have fallen upon the house, that its brightness +should be quenched so utterly. + +As soon as the misfortune that had befallen the Vanes was made known, +the General's maiden-sister descended from London upon the house, and +took possession, but not in any imperious or domineering way. Miss +Leonora Vane was far too shrewd and too kindly a woman to be aught but +helpful and sympathetic at such a time. But it was in her nature to +rule--she could not help making her influence felt wherever she went, +and the reins of government fell naturally into her hands as soon as she +appeared upon the scene. She was the General's junior by five years +only, and had always looked on Sydney and his wife as poor, +irresponsible, frivolous young creatures, quite incapable of managing +their own affairs. A difference of opinion on this point had driven her +to London, where she had a nice little house in Kensington, and was +great on committees and boards of management. But real sorrow chased all +considerations of her own dignity or comfort from her mind. She hurried +down to Beechfield as soon as she knew of her brother's need; and during +the weary days and weeks between Sydney's death and Westwood's trial, +she had been invaluable as a friend, helper, and capable mistress of the +disorganised household. + +She sat one June morning at the head of the breakfast-table in the +dining-room at Beechfield Hall, with an unaccustomed look of +dissatisfaction and perplexity upon her handsome resolute face. Miss +Vane was a woman of fifty, but her black hair showed scarcely a line of +silver, and her brown eyes were as keen and bright as they had ever +been. With her smooth, unwrinkled forehead, her colorless but healthy +complexion, and her thin well-braced figure, she looked ten years +younger than her age. Not often was her composure disturbed, but on this +occasion trouble and anxiety were both evinced by the knitting of her +brows and the occasional twitching of her usually firm lips. She sat +behind the coffee-urn, but she had finished her own breakfast long +since, and was now occupying her ever-busy fingers with some knitting +until her brother should appear. But her hands were unsteady, and at +last, with an exclamation of disgust, she laid down her knitting-pins, +and crossed the long white fingers closely over one another in her lap. + +"Surely Hubert got my telegram!" she murmured to herself. "I wish he +would come--oh, how I wish that he would come!" + +She moved in her seat so as to be able to see the marble clock on the +massive oak mantelpiece. The hands pointed to the hour of nine. Miss +Vane rose and looked out of the window. + +"He might have taken the early train from town. If he had, he would be +here by this time. But no doubt he did not think it worth while. 'An old +woman's fancy!' he said to himself perhaps. Hubert was never very +tolerant of other people's fancies, though he has plenty of his own, +Heaven knows! Ah, there he comes, thank Heaven! For once he has done +what I wished--dear boy!" + +Miss Vane's hard countenance softened as she said the words. She sank +down into her chair again, crossed her hands once more upon her knees, +and assumed the attitude of impenetrable rigidity intended to impress +the observer with a sense of her indifference to all mankind. But the +new-comer, who entered from the terrace at that moment, was too well +used to Miss Vane's ways and manners to be much impressed. + +"Good morning, aunt Leo. I have obeyed your orders, you see," he said, +as he bent down and touched her forehead lightly with his lips. + +He was a young man, not more than one or two and twenty, but he had +already lost much of the freshness and youthfulness of his years. He was +of middle height, rather slenderly built, well dressed, well brushed, +with the air of high-bred distinction which is never attained save by +those to the manner born. His face was singularly handsome, strong, yet +refined, with sharply-cut features, dark eyes and hair, a heavy black +moustache, and a grave, almost melancholy expression--altogether a +striking face, not one easily to be forgotten or overlooked. As he +seated himself quietly at the breakfast-table, and replied to some query +of his aunt's respecting the hour of his arrival, it occurred to Miss +Vane that he was looking remarkably tired and unwell. The line of his +cheek, always somewhat sharp, seemed to have fallen in, there were dark +shadows beneath his eyes, and his olive complexion had assumed the +slightly livid tints which sometimes mark ill-health. In spite of her +preoccupation with other matters, Miss Vane could not repress a comment +on his appearance. + +"What have you been doing with yourself, Hubert? You look positively +ghastly!" + +"Do I!" said Hubert, glancing up with a ready smile. "I shouldn't +wonder. I was up all last night with some fellows that I know--we made a +night of it, aunt Leo--and I have naturally a headache this morning." + +"You deserve it then. Surely you might have chosen a more fitting time +for a carouse!" + +It seemed to her, curiously enough, that he gave a little shiver and +drew in his lips beneath his dark moustache. But he answered with his +usual indifference of manner. + +"It was hardly a carouse. I can't undertake to make a recluse of myself, +my dear aunt, in spite of the family troubles." + +"Hubert, don't be so heartless!" cried Miss Vane imperiously; then, +checking herself, she pressed her thin lips slightly together and sat +silent, with her eyes fixed on the cups before her. + +"Am I heartless? Well, I suppose I am," said the young man, with a +slight mocking smile in which his eyes seemed to take no part. "I am +sorry, but really I can't help it. In the meantime perhaps you will give +me a cup of coffee--for I am famishing after my early flight from +town--and tell me why you telegraphed for me in such a hurry last +night." + +Miss Vane filled his cup with a hand that trembled still. Hubert Lepel +watched her movements with interest. He did not often see his kinswoman +display so much agitation. She was not his aunt by any tie of blood--she +was a faraway cousin only; but ever since his babyhood he had addressed +her by that title. + +"I sent for you," she said at last, speaking jerkily and hurriedly, as +if the effort were almost more than she could bear--"I sent for you to +tell the General what you yourself telegraphed to me last night." + +A flush of dull red color stole into the young man's face. He looked at +her intently, with a contracted brow. + +"Do you mean," he said, after a moment's pause, "that you have not told +him yet?" + +Miss Vane averted her eyes. + +"No," she answered; "I have not told him. You will think me weak--I +suppose I am weak, Hubert--but I dared not tell him." + +"And you summoned me from London to break the news? For no other +reason?" + +Miss Vane nodded,--"That was all." + +Hubert bit his lip and sipped his coffee before saying another word. + +"Aunt Leo," he said, after a silence during which Miss Vane gave +unequivocal signs of nervousness, "I really must say that I think the +proceeding was unnecessary." He leaned back in his chair and toyed with +his spoon, a whiteness which Miss Vane was accustomed to interpret as a +sign of anger showing itself about his nostrils and his lips. She had +long looked upon it as an ominous sign. + +"Hubert, Hubert, don't be angry--don't refuse to help me!" she said, in +pleading tones, such as he had never heard from her before. "I assure +you that my post in this house is no sinecure. Poor Marion"--she spoke +of Mrs. Sydney Vane--"is rapidly sinking into her grave. Ay, you may +well start! She has never got over the shock of Sydney's death, and the +excitement of the last few days seems to have increased her malady. She +insisted on having every report of the trial read to her; and ever since +the conviction she has grown weaker, until the doctor says that she can +hardly outlast the week. Oh, that wicked man--that murderer--has much to +answer for!" said Miss Vane, clasping her hands passionately together. + +Hubert was silent; his eyebrows were drawn down over his eyes, his face +was strangely white. + +"Your uncle," Miss Vane continued sadly, "is nearly heart-broken. You +know how much he loved poor Sydney, how much he cares for Marion. He +has been a different man ever since that terrible day. I am afraid for +his health--for his reason even, if----" + +"For Heaven's sake, stop," said the young man hoarsely. "I can't bear +this enumeration of misfortunes; it--it makes me--ill! Don't say any +more." + +He pushed back his chair, rose, and went to the sideboard, where he +poured out a glass of water from the carafe and drank it off. Then he +leaned both elbows on the damask-covered mahogany surface, and rested +his forehead on his hands. Miss Vane stared at his bowed head, at his +bent figure, with unfeigned amazement. She thought that she knew Hubert +well, and she had never numbered over-sensitiveness amongst his virtues +or vices. She concluded that the last night's dissipation had been too +much for his nerves. + +"Hubert," she said at length, "you must be ill." + +"I believe I am," the young man answered. He raised his face from his +hands, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped his forehead with it before +turning round. It were well that his aunt should not see the cold drops +of perspiration standing upon his brow. He tried to laugh as he came +forward to the table once more. "You must excuse me," he said. "I have +not been well for the last few days, and your list of disasters quite +upset me." + +"My poor boy," said aunt Leo, looking at him tenderly. "I am afraid that +I have been very thoughtless! I should have remembered that these last +few weeks have been as trying to you as to all of us. You always loved +Marion and Sydney." + +It would have been impossible for her to interpret aright the +involuntary spasm of feeling that flashed across Hubert's face, the +uncontrollable shudder that ran through all his frame. Impossible +indeed! How could she fancy that he said to himself as he heard her +words---- + +"Loved Sydney Vane! Merciful powers, I never sank to that level, at any +rate! When I think of what I now know of him, I am glad to remember that +he was my enemy!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +At that moment a heavy step was heard in the hall, a hand fumbled with +the lock of the door. Miss Vane glanced apprehensively at Hubert. + +"He is there," she said--"he is coming in. The London papers will arrive +in half an hour. Hubert, don't leave him to learn the news from the +papers or from his London lawyer." + +"What harm if he did?" muttered Hubert; but, before Miss Vane could +reply, the door was opened and the General entered the room. + +He was a tall, white-haired man, with a stoop in his shoulders which had +not been perceptible a year before. His finely-cut features strongly +resembled those of his sister, but there was some weakness in the +slightly receding chin, some hint of irresolution in the lines of the +handsome mouth, which could not be found in Leonora Vane's expressive +countenance. The General's eyes were remarkably fine, clear and blue as +sea-water or the sky, but their expression on this occasion was +peculiar. They had a wild, wandering, irresolute look which impressed +Hubert painfully. He rose respectfully from his chair as the old man +came in; but for a moment or two the General gazed at him +unrecognisingly. + +"Hubert has come to spend the day with us, Richard," said Miss Vane. + +"Hubert? Oh, yes, Hubert Lepel!" murmured the General, as if recalling a +forgotten name. "Florence Lepel's brother--a cousin of ours, I believe? +Glad to see you, Hubert," said the General, suddenly awakening, +apparently from a dream. "Did you come down this morning? From London or +from Whitminster?" + +"From London, sir." + +"Oh, yes--from London! I thought perhaps that you had been"--the +General's voice sank to a husky whisper--"to see that fellow get his +deserts. Hush--don't speak of it before Leonora; ladies should not hear +about these things, you know!" He caught Hubert by the sleeve and drew +him aside. "The execution was to be this morning; did you not know?" he +said, fixing his wild eyes upon the young man's paling face. "Eight +o'clock was the hour; it must be over by now. Well, well--the Lord have +mercy upon his sinful soul!" + +"Amen!" Hubert muttered between his closed teeth. Then he seemed to make +a violent effort to control himself--to assume command over his +kinsman's disordered mind. "Come, sir," he said--"you must not talk like +that. Think no more of that wretched man. You know there was a chance--a +loophole. Some people were not convinced that he was guilty. There have +been petitions signed by hundreds of people, I believe, to the Home +Secretary for mercy." + +"Mercy--mercy!" shouted the General, his pale face growing first red and +then purple from excitement. "Who talks of mercy to that ruffian? But +Harbury"--naming the Home Secretary for the time being--"Harbury will +stand firm; Harbury will never yield! I would take my oath that Harbury +won't give in! Such a miscarriage of justice was never heard of! Don't +talk to me of it! Harbury knows his duty; and the man has been +punished--the man is dead!" + +Hubert's voice trembled a little as he spoke. + +"The man is not dead, sir," he said. + +The General turned upon him fiercely. + +"Was not this morning fixed for the--is this not the twenty-fifth?" he +said. "What do you mean?" + +There was a moment's silence, during which he read the answer to his +question in Hubert's melancholy eyes. Miss Vane held her breath; she saw +her brother stagger as if a sudden dizziness had seized him; he caught +at the back of an antique heavily-carved oak chair for support. In the +pause she noted involuntarily the beauty of the golden sunshine that +filled every corner of the luxuriously-appointed room, intensifying the +glow of color in the Persian carpet, illuminating as with fire the +brass-work and silver-plate which decorated the table and the sideboard, +vividly outlining in varied tones of delicate hues the masses of June +roses that filled every vase and bowl in the room. The air was full of +perfume--nothing but beauty met the eye; and yet, in spite of this +material loveliness, how black and evil, how unutterably full of +sadness, did the world appear to Leonora Vane just then! And, if she +could have seen into the heart of one at least of the men who stood +before her, she would almost have died of grief and shame. + +"You don't mean," stammered the General, "that the ruffian who murdered +my brother--has been--reprieved?" + +"It is said, sir, that imprisonment for life is a worse punishment than +death," said Hubert gently. The face of no man--even of one condemned to +life-long punishment--could have expressed deeper gloom than his own as +he said the words. Yet mingling with the gloom there was something +inflexible that gave it almost a repellent character. It was as if he +would have thrown any show or pity back into the face of those who +offered it, and defied the world to sympathise with him on account of +some secret trouble which he had brought upon himself. + +"Worse than death--worse than death!" repeated the old man. "I do not +know what you mean, sir. I shall go up to town at once and see Harbury +about this matter. It is in his hands----" + +"Not now," interposed Hubert. "The Queen----" + +"The Queen will hear reason, sir! I will make my way to her presence, +and speak to her myself. She will not refuse the prayer of an old man +who has served his country as long and as faithfully as I have done. I +will tell her the story myself, and she will see justice done--justice +on the man who murdered my brother!" + +His voice grew louder and his breath came in choking gasps between the +words. His face was purple, the veins on his forehead were swollen and +his eyes bloodshot; with one hand he was leaning on the table, with the +other he gesticulated violently, shaking the closed fist almost in +Hubert's face, as if he mistook him for the murderer himself. It was a +pitiable sight. The old man had completely lost his self-command, and +his venerable white hairs and bowed form accentuated the harrowing +effect which his burst of passion produced upon his hearers. Hubert +stood silent, spell-bound, as it seemed, with sorrow and dismay; but +Miss Vane, shaking off her unwonted timidity, went up to her brother and +laid her hand upon his outstretched quivering arm. + +"Richard, Richard, do not speak in that way!" she said. "It is not +Christian--it is not even human. You are not a man who would wish to +take away a fellow-creature's life or to rob him of a chance of +repentance." + +The General's hand fell, but his eyes flamed with the look of an +infuriated beast of prey as he turned them on Miss Leonora. + +"You are a woman," he said harshly, "and, as a woman, you may be weak; +but I am a man and a soldier, and would die for the honor of my family. +Not take away that man's life? I swear to you that, if I had him here, I +would kill him with my own hands! Does not the Scripture tell us that a +life shall be given for a life?" + +"It tells us that vengeance is the Lord's, Richard, and that He will +repay." + +"Yes--by the hands of His servants, Leonora. Are you so base as not to +desire the punishment of your brother's murderer! If so, never speak to +me, never come near my house again! And you, young gentleman, get ready +to come with me to London at once! I will see Harbury before the day is +over." + +"My dear General," said Hubert, looking exceedingly perplexed, "I think +that you will hardly find Harbury in town. I heard yesterday that he was +leaving London for a few days." + +"Nonsense, sir! Leaving London before the close of the session! +Impossible! But we can get his address and follow him, I suppose? I will +see Harbury to-night!" + +"It will be useless," said Hubert, with resignation, "but, if you +insist----" + +"I do insist! The honor of my house is at stake, and I shall do my +utmost to bring that ruffian to the gallows! I cannot understand you +young fellows of the present day, cold-blooded, effeminate, without +natural affection--I cannot understand it, I say. Ring the bell for +Saunders; tell him to put up my bag. I will go at once--this very +moment--this----" + +The General's voice suddenly faltered and broke. For some time his words +had been almost unintelligible; they ran into one another, as if his +tongue was not under the control of his will. His face, first red, then +purple, was nearly black, and a slight froth was showing itself upon his +discolored lips. As his sister and cousin looked at him in alarm, they +saw that he staggered backwards as if about to fall. Hubert sprang +forward and helped him to his chair, where he lay back, with his eyes +half closed, breathing stertorously, and apparently almost unconscious. +The rage, the excitement, had proved too much for his physical strength; +he was on the verge, if he had not absolutely succumbed to it, of an +apoplectic fit. + +The doctor was sent for in haste. All possibility of the General's +expedition to London was out of the question, very much to Miss Vane's +relief. She had been dreading an illness of this kind for some days, and +it was this fear which had caused her to telegraph for Hubert before +breaking to her brother the news that she herself had learned the night +before. She had seen her father die of a similar attack, and had been +roused to watchfulness by symptoms of excitement in her brother's manner +during the last few days. The blow had fallen now, and she could only be +thankful that matters were no worse. + +When the doctor had come--he was met half-way up the drive by the +messenger, on his way to pay a morning visit to Mrs. Sydney--and when he +had superintended the removal of the General to his room, Hubert was +left for a time alone. He quitted the dining-room and made his way to +his favorite resort at Beechfield Hall--a spacious conservatory which +ran the whole length of one side of the house. Into this conservatory, +now brilliant with exotics, several rooms opened, one after another--a +small breakfast-room, a study, a library, billiard-room, and +smoking-room. These all communicated with each other as well as with the +conservatory, and it was as easy as it was delightful to exchange the +neighborhood of books or pipes or billiard-balls for that of Mrs. Vane's +orchids and stephanotis-blossoms. Poor Mrs. Vane used to grumble over +the conservatory. It was on the wrong side of the house--the gentlemen's +side, she called it--and did not run parallel with the drawing-room; but +the very oddness of the arrangement seemed to please her guests. + +Hubert had always liked to smoke his morning cigar amongst the flowers, +and, as he paced slowly up and down the tesselated floor, and inhaled +the heavy perfume of the myrtles and the heliotrope, his features +relaxed a little, his eyes grew less gloomy and his brow more tranquil. +He glanced round him with an air almost of content, and drew a deep +breath. + +"If one could live amongst flowers all one's life, away from the crimes +and follies of the rest of the world, how happy one might be!" he said +to himself half cynically, half sadly, as he stooped to puff away the +green-fly from a delicate plant with the smoke of his cigar. "That's +impossible, however. There's no chance of a monastery in these modern +days! What wouldn't I give just now to be out of all this--this +misery--this deviltry?" He put a strong and bitter accent on the last +word. "But I see no way out of it--none!" + +"There is no way out of it--for you," a voice near him said. + +Without knowing it, he had spoken aloud. This answer to his reverie +startled him exceedingly. He wheeled round to discover whence it came, +and, to his surprise, found himself close to the open library window, +where, just inside the room, a girl was sitting in a low cushioned +chair. + +He took the cigar from his mouth and held it between his fingers as he +looked at her, his brow contracting with anger rather than with +surprise. He stood thus two or three minutes, as if expecting her to +speak, but she did not even raise her eyes. She was a tall, fair girl +with hair of the palest flaxen, artistically fluffed out and curled upon +her forehead, and woven into a magnificent coronet upon her graceful +head; her downcast eyelids were peculiarly large and white, and, when +raised, revealed the greatest beauty and the greatest surprise of her +face--a pair of velvety dark-brown eyes, which had the curious power of +assuming a reddish tint when she was angry or disturbed. Her skin was of +the perfect creaminess which sometimes accompanies red hair--and it was +whispered by her acquaintances that Florence Lepel's flaxen locks had +once been of a decidedly carroty tinge, and that their present pallor +had been attained by artificial means. Whether this was the case or not +it could not be denied that their color was now very becoming to her +pale complexion, and that they constituted the chief of Miss Lepel's +many acknowledged charms. For, in a rather strange and uncanny way, +Florence Lepel was a beautiful woman; and, though critics said that she +was too thin, that her neck was too long, her face too pale and narrow, +her hair too colorless for beauty, there were many for whom a distinct +fascination lay in the unusual combination of these features. + +She was dressed from head to foot in sombre black, which made her neck +and hands appear almost dazzlingly white. Perhaps it was also the +sombreness of her attire which gave a look of fragility--an almost +painful fragility--to her appearance. Hubert noted, half unconsciously, +that her figure was more willowy than ever, that the veins on her +temples and her long white hands were marked with extraordinary +distinctness, that there were violet shadows on the large eyelids and +beneath the drooping lashes. But, for all that, the bitter sternness of +his expression did not change. When he spoke, it was in a particularly +severe tone. + +"I should be obliged to you," he said, still holding his cigar between +his fingers, and looking down at her with a very dark frown upon his +face, "if you would kindly tell me exactly what you mean." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Florence Lepel raised her beautiful eyes at last to her brother's face. + +"I only repeat what you yourself have said. There is no way out of +it--for you." + +Her voice was quite even and expressionless, but Hubert's face +contracted at the sound of her words as if they hurt him. He raised his +cigar mechanically to his lips, found that it had gone out, and, instead +of relighting it, threw it away angrily from him amongst the flowers. +His sister, her eyes keen notwithstanding the velvety softness of their +glance, saw that his hands trembled as he did so. + +"I should like to have some conversation with you," he said, in a tone +that betokened irritation, "if you can spare a little time from your +duties." + +"They are not particularly engrossing just now," said Miss Lepel evenly, +indicating the book that lay upon her lap. "I am improving my mind by +the study of the French language," she said. "The General knows nothing +of French authors since the days of Racine, and will think me quite +laudably employed in reading a modern French novel." + +"The General is not likely to find you anywhere to-day, nor for many a +day to come." + +"Is he dead?" asked his sister, ruffling the pages of her book. She did +not look as if anybody's death could disturb her perfect equanimity. + +"Are you a fiend, Florence," Hubert burst out angrily, "that you can +speak in that manner of a man who has been so great a benefactor, so +kind a friend, to both of us? Have you no heart at all?" + +"I am not sure. If ever I had one, I think that it was killed--three +months ago." + +Her voice sank to a whisper as she uttered the last few words. Her +breath came a little faster for a second or two--then she was calm +again. Her brother looked at her with an air of stupefaction. + +"How dare you allude to that shameful episode in your life," he said +sternly, "and to me, of all people!" + +"If not to you, I should certainly speak of it to no one," she answered +quietly. There was a sudden blaze of light in the red-brown eyes beneath +the heavily-veined eyelids. + +"You are my only safety-valve; I must speak sometimes--or die. +Besides"--in a still lower tone--"I see nothing shameful about it. We +have done no harm. If he loved me better than he loved his chattering +commonplace little wife, I was not to blame. How could I help it if I +loved him too? It was _kismet_--it had to be. You should not have +interfered." + +"And pray what would have happened if I had not interfered? What shame, +what ruin, what disgrace!" + +"It is useless for you to rant and rave in that manner," said Florence +Lepel, letting her eyes drop once more to the open pages of her French +novel. "You did interfere, and there is an end of it. And what an end! +You must be proud of your work. He dead, Marion dying, the General +nearly mad with grief, the man Westwood hanged for a crime that he never +committed!" + +"Westwood has been reprieved," said Hubert sharply. + +"What a relief to you!" commented his sister, with almost incredible +coolness. + +He turned away from her, catching at his throat as if something rose to +choke him there. His face was very pale; the lines of pain about his +eyes and mouth were plainer and deeper than they had been before. +Florence glanced up at him and smiled faintly. There was a strange +malignity in her smile. + +"You can tell me," she said, when the silence had lasted for some +minutes, "what you meant by saying that the General would not find me +here to-day." + +"He has narrowly escaped a fit of apoplexy. He is to be kept quiet; he +will not be able to see any one for some days to come." + +"Oh! What brought it on?" + +"The news," Hubert answered reluctantly, "of Westwood's reprieve." + +Miss Lepel smiled again. + +"Was he so very angry?" she said. "Ah, he would do anything in his power +to bring his brother's murderer to justice--I have heard him say so a +hundred times! You ought to be very grateful to me, Hubert, for +remembering that you are my brother." + +"I wish to Heaven I were not!" cried the young man. + +"For some things I wish you were not too," said Florence slowly. She sat +up, clasped her white hands round her knees, and looked at him +reflectively. "If you had not been my brother, I suppose you would not +have interfered," she went on. "You would have left me to pursue my +wicked devices, and simply turned your back on me and Sydney Vane. I +agree with you. I wish to Heaven--if you like that form of +expression--that you were not my brother, Hubert Lepel! You have made +the misery of my life." + +"And you the disgrace of mine!" he said bitterly. + +"Then we are quits," she answered, in the listless, passionless voice +that she seemed especially to affect. "We need not reproach each other; +we have each had something to bear at one another's hands." + +"Florence," said Hubert--and his voice trembled a little as he +spoke--"what are you going to do? It is, as you say, useless for us to +reproach each other for the past; but for the future let me at least be +certain that my sacrifice will avail to keep you in a right path, that +you will not again--not again----" + +"This is very edifying," said Florence quietly, as the young man broke +off short in his speech, and turned away with a despairing stamp of the +foot--his sister's face would have discomfited a man of far greater +moral courage than poor Hubert Lepel--"it is something new for me to be +lectured by my younger brother, whose course has surely not been quite +irreproachable, I should imagine! Come, Hubert--do not be so absurd! You +have acted according to your lights, as the old women say, and I +according to mine. There is nothing more for us to talk about. Let us +quit the subject; the past is dead." + +"I tell you that it is the future that I concern myself about. Upon my +honor, Florence, I did not know that you were here when I came down +to-day! I thought that you had gone to your friend Mrs. Bartolet at +Worcester, as you said to me that you would when I saw you last. Why +have you not gone? You said that life here was now intolerable to you. I +remember your very words, although I have not been here for weeks." + +"Your memory does you credit," said the girl, with slow scorn. + +"Why have you stayed?" + +"For my own ends--not yours." + +"So I suppose." + +"My dear brother Hubert," said Florence, composing herself in a graceful +attitude in the depths of her basket-chair, "can you not be persuaded to +go your own way and leave me to go mine? You have done a good deal of +mischief already, don't you know? You have ruined my prospects, +destroyed my hopes--if I were sentimental, I might say, broken my heart! +Is not that enough for you? For mercy's sake, go your own way +henceforward, and let me do as I please!" + +"But what is your way? What do you please?" + +"Is it well for me to tell you after the warning I have had?" + +"If you had a worthy plan, an honorable ambition, you could easily tell +me. Again I ask, Why are you here?" + +"Yes, why?" repeated Florence, her lip curling, and, for the first time, +a slight color flushing her pale cheeks. "Why? Your dull wits will not +even compass that, will they? Well, partly because I am a thoroughly +worldly woman, or rather a woman of the world--because it is not well to +give up a good home, a luxurious life, and a large salary, when they are +to be had for the asking--because as Enid Vane's governess, I can have +as much freedom and as little work as I choose. Is not that answer +enough for you?" + +"No," said Hubert doggedly, "it is not." + +She shrugged her graceful shoulders. + +"It should be, I think. But I will go on. I look three-and-twenty, but +you know as well as I do that I am twenty-nine. In another year I shall +be thirty--horrible thought! An attack of illness, even a little more +trouble, such as this that I have lately undergone, will make me look my +full age. Do you know what that means to a woman?" She pressed her +eyelids and the hollows beneath her eyes with her fingers. "When I look +in the glass, I see already what I shall be when I am forty. I must make +the best of my youth and of my good looks. You spoiled one chance in +life for me; I must make what I can of the other." + +"You mean," said the young man, with white dry lips, which he vainly +attempted to moisten as he spoke--"you mean--that you must make what the +world calls a good marriage?" + +She bowed her head. + +"At last you have grasped my meaning," she said coldly; "you have +hitherto been exceedingly slow to do so." + +He looked at her silently for a moment or two, almost with abhorrence. +Her fair and delicate beauty affected him with a sort of loathing; he +could not believe that this woman with the cold lips and malignant eyes +had been born of his mother, had played with him in childhood, had +kissed him with loving kisses, and spoken to him in sisterly caressing +fashion. It took him some minutes to conquer the terrible hatred which +grew up within him towards her, as he remembered all that she had been +and all that she had done; but, when at last he was able to speak, his +voice was calm and studiously gentle. + +"Florence," he said, "I will not forget that you are my sister. You bear +my name, you come of my race, and, whatever you do and whatever you are, +I cannot desert you. I promised our mother on her death-bed that I would +care for you as long as you needed care; and, if ever you needed it in +your life, you need it now! I have not done my duty to you during the +past few weeks. I have left you to yourself, and thought I could never +forgive you for what you had done. But now I see that I was wrong. If it +would be of any service to you, I would make a home for you at once--I +would place all my means at your disposal. Come back with me to London, +and let us make a home for ourselves together. We are both weary, both +have suffered; could we not try to console and strengthen each other?" + +The wistfulness of his tone, of his looks, would have softened any heart +that was not hard as stone. But Florence Lepel's pale face was utterly +unmoved. + +"You offer me a brilliant lot," she said--"to live in a garret, I +suppose, and darn your stockings, while you earn a paltry pittance as a +literary man, eked out by aunt Leo's charity! You know very well that +sooner than do that I put up for two years with Marion Vane's patronage +and the drudgery of the schoolroom! And now, when the woman who +alternately scolded and cajoled me, the woman who once took it upon her +to lecture me for my behavior to her husband, the woman whom I hated as +I should hate a poisonous snake--when that woman is slowly dying and +leaving the field to me, am I to throw up the game, give up my chances, +and go to vegetate with you in London? You know me very little if you +think I would do that." + +"I seem to have known you very little all my life," said Hubert +bitterly. "I certainly do not understand you now. What can you get by +staying here?" + +"Oh, nothing, of course!" she answered tranquilly. + +"What is your scheme, Florence?" + +"It is of no use telling you--you might interfere again." + +The anguish of doubt and anxiety in his dark eyes, if she had looked at +him, would surely have moved her. But she did not look. + +"I mean to stay here," she said quietly, "teaching Enid Vane, putting up +with aunt Leonora's impertinences as well as I can, until I get another +chance in the world. What that chance may be of course I cannot tell, +but I am certain that it will come." + +"You can bear to stay in this house which I--I--infinitely less +blameworthy than yourself--can hardly endure to enter?" + +"The world would not call you less blameworthy. I am glad that you are +so far on good terms with your conscience." + +"Florence," he said, almost threateningly, "take care! I will not spare +you another time. If I find you involved in any other transaction of +which you ought to be ashamed, I will expose you. I will tell the world +the truth--that you were on the point of leaving England with Sydney +Vane when I--when I----" + +"When you shot him," she said, without a trace of emotion manifest in +either face or voice, "and let Andrew Westwood bear the blame." + +The young man winced as if he had received a blow. + +"It was to shield you that I kept silence," he said, passionate +agitation showing itself in his manner. "It was to save your good name. +But even for your sake I would not have let the man suffer death. If we +had obtained no reprieve for him, I swear that I would have given myself +up and borne the punishment!" + +"You were at work then? You tried to get the reprieve for him?" said his +sister, with the faintest possible touch of eagerness. + +"I did indeed." Hubert's voice fell into a lower key, as if he were +trying, miserably enough, to justify to himself, rather than to her, +what he had done. "It would be almost useless to confess my own guilt. +It would be thought that I was beside myself. Who would believe +me--unless you--you yourself corroborated my story? The man Westwood was +a poacher, a thief, wretchedly poor and in ill-health; he has no +character to lose, no friends to consider. Besides, he was morally +guiltier than I. I know that he was lying in wait for Sydney Vane; I +know that he had resolved to be revenged on him. Now I--I met my enemy +in fair fight; I did not lie in ambush for him." + +But from the darkness of his countenance it was plain that the young +man's conscience was not deceived by the specious plea that he had set +up for himself. Beneath her drooping eyelids Florence watched him +narrowly. She read him in his weakness, his bitterness of spirit, more +clearly than he could read himself. Suddenly she sat up and leaned +forward so that she could touch him with one of her soft cold hands--her +hands were always cold. + +"Hubert," she said, with a gentle inflection of her voice which took him +by surprise, "I am perhaps not as bad as you think me, dear. I do not +want to quarrel with you--you are my only friend. You have saved me from +worse than death. I will not be ungrateful. I will do exactly as you +wish." + +He looked bewildered, almost dismayed. + +"Do you mean it, Florence?" he asked doubtingly. + +"I do indeed. And, in return, oh, Hubert, will you set my mind at +rest by promising me one thing? You will give me another chance to +retrieve my wasted, ruined life, will you not? You will never tell +to another what you and I know alone? You will still shield +me--from--from--disgrace, Hubert--for our mother's sake?" + +The tears trembled on her lashes; she slipped down from her low chair +and knelt by his side, clasping her hands over his half-reluctant +fingers, appealing to him with voice and look alike; and, in an evil +hour for himself, he promised at any cost to shield her from the +consequences of her folly and his sin. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Oh, you two are here together!" There was a note of surprise in Miss +Vane's voice as she turned the corner of a great group of +foliage-plants, and came upon brother and sister at the open library +window. "I could not tell what had become of either of you. If you have +finished your conversation"--with a sharp glance from Florence's wet +eyelashes to Hubert's pale agitated face--"I have work for both of you. +Florence, Enid has been alone all the morning; do take the child for a +walk and let her have a little fresh air! And I want you to go for a +stroll with me, Hubert; the General is sleeping quietly, and I have two +or three things to consult you about before I go up to Marion." + +The sudden gleam in Florence's eyes, quickly as it was concealed, did +not escape Miss Leonora's notice as she moved away. + +"What's the matter with Flossy?" she asked abruptly, stopping to throw +over her head a black-lace scarf which she had been carrying on her arm. +"She has been crying." + +"She feels the trouble that has come upon us all, I suppose," said +Hubert rather awkwardly. He pressed forward a little, so as to hold open +the conservatory door for his aunt. He was glad of the opportunity of +averting his face for a moment from the scrutiny of her keen eyes. + +"That is not all," said Miss Vane, as she quitted the great glass-house, +with its wealth of bloom and perfume, for the freshness of the outer +air. She struck straight across the sunny lawn, leaving the house +behind. "That is not all. Come away from the house--I don't want what I +have to say to you to be overheard, and walls have ears sometimes. Your +sister Florence, Hubert, was never remarkable for a very feeling heart. +She is, and always was, the most unsympathetic person I ever knew." + +"She has perhaps greater depth of feeling than we give her credit for," +said Hubert, thinking of certain words that had been said, of certain +scenes on which his eyes had rested in by-gone days. + +"Not she--excuse me! Hubert, I know that she is your sister, and that +men do not like to hear their sisters spoken against; but I must remind +you that Florence lived ten years under my roof, and that a woman is +more likely to understand a girl's nature than a young man." + +"I never pretended to understand Florence," said Hubert helplessly; "she +got beyond me long ago." + +"She is a good deal older than you, my dear, and she has had more +experiences than she would like to have known. How do I know? I only +guess, but I am certain of what I say. She is nine-and-twenty, and she +has been out in the world for the last eight years. There is no telling +what she may not have gone through in that space of time." + +Hubert was dumb--it was not in his power just then to contradict his +aunt's assertions. + +"I would gladly have kept her under the shelter of my roof," said Miss +Vane, pursuing the tenor of her thoughts without much reference to her +listener's condition of mind; "but you know as well as I do that she +refused to live with me after she was twenty-one--would be a governess. +Ugh! Wonder how she liked it?" + +"She seemed to like it very well; she stayed four years in Russia." + +"Yes, and hoped to get married there, but failed. I know Flossy. She +must have mismanaged matters frightfully, for she is an attractive girl. +She went to Scotland then for a year or two, you know, and was engaged +for a time to that young Scotch laird--I never heard why the engagement +was broken off." + +"Why are you deep in these reminiscences, aunt Leonora?" asked Hubert, +with an uneasiness which he tried to conceal by a nervous little laugh. +"I should have thought that you would be absorbed in anxiety for the +General; and, as for me, I want to know what the doctor says about the +dear old boy." + +"I am absorbed in anxiety for him," said Miss Vane decisively; "and that +is just why I am calling these little details of Florence's history to +your mind. As to the General's health, the doctor says that we may be +easier about it now than we have been for many a day. The crisis that we +have been expecting has come and passed, and we may be thankful that he +is no worse. If he keeps quiet, he will be about again in a few days, +and may not have another attack for years." + +"And Marion?" + +"Ah, poor Marion! She is not long for this world, Hubert. I must be back +with her at twelve. Till then the nurse has possession and I am free. +Poor soul! It is a dark ending to what seemed a bright enough life. Her +mind has failed of late as much as her body." + +Hubert could not reply. + +"Sit down here," said Miss Vane, as they reached a rustic seat beneath a +great copper-beech-tree on the farther side of the lawn. "Here we can +see the house and be seen from it; if they want me, they will know where +to find me. I am not speaking at random, Hubert; there is a thing that I +want to say to you about your sister Florence." + +Hubert seated himself at her side with a thrill of positive fear. Had +she some accusation to bring against his sister? He was miserably +conscious that he was quite unprepared to defend her against any +accusation whatsoever. + +"What I mean first of all to say," Miss Vane proceeded, looking straight +before her at the house, "is that Florence is a girl of an unusual +character. She looks very mild and meek, but she is not mild and meek at +all. Most girls are, on the whole, affectionate and well-principled and +timid; Flossy is not one of the three." + +"You are surely hard on her!" + +"No, I am not. Long ago I made up my mind that she wanted to get +married; that is nothing--every girl of her disposition wants more or +less to be married. But I came across a piece of information the other +day which made me feel almost glad that poor Sydney's life ended as it +did. There was danger ahead." + +"It is all done with now," said Hubert hurriedly; "why should you rake +up the past? Cannot it be left alone?" + +He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin supported by his +hands, a look of settled gloom upon his face. Miss Vane's eyes flashed. + +"You know what I mean then?" she said sharply. + +Hubert started into an upright position, crossed his arms, and looked +her imperturbably in the face. + +"I have not the slightest idea of what you are going to say." + +"You know something, nevertheless," said Miss Vane, with equal +composure. "Well, I don't ask you to betray your sister. I only wish to +mention that, in looking over my brother Sydney's papers the other day, +I came across a letter from Florence which I consider extremely +compromising. It was written from Scotland while she was still engaged +to that young laird, but it showed plainly that some sort of +understanding subsisted between her and Sydney Vane. They must have met +several times without the knowledge of any other member of our family; +and it seems that she proffered her services to Marion as Enid's +governess at his instigation. What do you think of that?" + +"I think," said Hubert deliberately, "that Florence has always proved +herself something of a plotter, and that the letter shows that she was +scheming to get a good situation. You can't possibly make anything more +out of it, aunt Leonora"--with a stormy glance. "I think you had better +not try." + +Miss Vane sat for a moment or two in deep meditation. + +"Well," she said at length, "that may be true, and I may be an old fool. +Perhaps I ought not to betray the girl to her brother either; but----" + +"Oh, say the worst and get it over, by all means!" said Hubert +desperately, "Out with your accusation, if you have any to make!" + +Leonora Vane studied his face for a minute or two before replying. She +did not like the withered paleness about his mouth, the look of +suffering that was so evident in his haggard eyes. + +"It is hardly an accusation, Hubert," she said, with sudden gentleness. +"I mean that I believe that she was in love--as far as a girl of her +disposition can be in love--with my brother Sydney. I need not tell you +how I have come to think so. In the first hours of our great loss she +betrayed herself. To me only--you need not be afraid that she would ever +wear her heart upon her sleeve, but to me she did betray her secret. +Whether Sydney returned her affection or not I am not quite sure--for +his wife's sake, I hope not." + +Again she looked keenly at her young kinsman; but he, with his eyes +fixed upon the ground and his lips compressed, did not seem disposed to +make any remark on what she had said. + +"I felt sorry for the girl," Miss Vane went on, "although I despised her +weakness in yielding to an affection for a married man. Still I thought +that her folly had brought its own punishment, and that I ought not to +be hard on her. Otherwise I should have recommended her to leave +Sydney's daughter alone, and get a situation in another house. I wish I +had. I cannot express too strongly to you, Hubert, how much I now wish I +had!" + +"Why?" + +"I misunderstood her," said his cousin slowly. "I thought that she had a +heart, and that she was grieving--innocently perhaps--over Sydney's +death." + +"Well, was she not?" + +"I don't think so. If she ever cared for him at all, it was because she +wanted the ease and luxury that he could give her. For, if she cared for +him, Hubert--I put it to you as a matter of probability--could she +immediately after his death begin to plan a marriage with somebody +else?" + +Hubert looked up at last, with a startled expression upon his face. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean, my dear boy, that your sister Florence now wants to marry the +General." + +In spite of his distress of mind, Hubert could not stifle a short laugh. + +"Aunt Leonora, you are romancing! This is really too much!" + +"I should not mention it to you if I had not good reason," said Miss +Vane, with a series of mysterious nods. "I have sharp eyes, Hubert, and +can see as far as most people. I repeat it--Florence wants to marry the +General." + +"She will not do that." + +"I am not sure--if she is left here when I am gone. I must go back to +London at some time or other, I suppose. But it won't do to leave Flossy +in possession." + +"She would not think of staying, surely, if----" + +"If poor Marion died? Yes, she would. Believe me, I know what I am +saying. I have watched her manner to him for the last few weeks, and I +feel sure of it. She has her own ends in view." + +"I have no doubt of that," said Hubert, rather bitterly. "But what are +we to do?" + +"Let our wits work against hers," replied Miss Vane briskly. "If poor +Marion dies, we must suggest to the General that Enid should go to +school. In that way we may get Florence out of the house without a +scene. But--mark my words, Hubert--she will not go until she is forced. +She is my second cousin once removed and your sister, but for all that +she is a scheming unprincipled intriguer and adventuress, who has never +brought and never will bring good to any house in which she lives. You +may try to get her away to London if you like, but you'll never +succeed." + +"I have tried already; I thought that she would be better with me," said +Hubert. "But it was of no use." + +"You offered her a home? You are a good fellow, Hubert! You have always +been a good brother to Florence, and I honor you for it," said Miss Vane +heartily. + +"Don't say so, aunt Leo; I'm not worth it," said the young man, starting +up and walking two or three paces from her, then returning to her side. +"I only wish that I could do more for her--poor Florence!" + +"Poor Florence indeed!" echoed Miss Vane, with tart significance. "But I +must go, Hubert. See her again, and persuade her, if you can, to leave +Beechfield. Don't tell her what I have said to you. She is suspicious +already and will want to know. Did you notice the look she gave me when +I said that I wished to talk to you? Be on your guard." + +"I shall not have time to talk with her much. I must go back to London +by the four o'clock train." + +"Must you? Well, do your best. See--the blind is drawn up in Marion's +dressing-room--a sign that I am wanted;" and Miss Vane turned towards +the house. + +Hubert's anticipations were verified. Florence was not to be persuaded +by anything that he could say. And, when he begged her to tell him why +she wanted so much to stay at Beechfield, and hinted at the reason that +existed in Miss Leonora's mind, Florence only laughed him to scorn. He +was obliged sorrowfully to confess to Miss Vane, when she walked with +him that afternoon before he set out for London, that he had obtained no +information concerning Flossy's plans, and that he could hope to have no +influence over her movements. + +He had five minutes to spare, and was urging her to walk with him a +little way along the road that led to the nearest railway-station, when +Miss Vane's attention was arrested by two little figures in the middle +of the road. She stopped short, and pointed to them with her parasol. + +"Hubert," she cried, in a voice that was hoarse with dismay, "do you see +that?" + +"I see Enid," said Hubert rather wonderingly. "I suppose she ought not +to be here alone; she must have escaped from Florence. Why are you so +alarmed? She is talking to a beggar-child--that is all." + +Miss Vane pressed his arm with her hand. + +"Are you blind?" she said. "Do you not know to whom she is talking? Can +you bear to see it?" + +"Upon my soul, aunt Leo," said the young man, "I don't know what you +mean!" + +He looked at the scene before him. The white country road stretched in +an undulating line to right and left, its smooth surface mottled with +patches of sunlight and tracts of refreshing shade. A broad margin of +grass on either side, tall hedges of hawthorn and hazel, soothed the eye +that might be wearied with the glare and whiteness of the road. On one +of these grassy margins two children were standing face to face. Hubert +recognised his little cousin Enid Vane, but the other--a sunburnt, +gipsy-looking creature, with unkempt hair and ragged clothes--who could +she be? + +"You were at the trial," Miss Vane whispered to him, in dismayed, +reproachful tones. "Do you not know her? it is no fault of hers, poor +child, of course; and yet it does give me a shock to see poor little +Enid talking in that friendly way with the daughter of her father's +murderer." + +For the child was no other than little Jenny Westwood, whom Hubert had +seen for a few minutes only at her father's trial three weeks before. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Hubert stopped short. If Miss Vane had been looking at him, she would +have seen that his face flushed deeply and then turned very pale. But +she herself, with her gold eye-glasses fixed very firmly on the bridge +of her high nose, was concentrating her whole attention upon the +children. + +"Enid," she called out rather sharply, "what are you doing there? Come +to me." + +Enid turned to her aunt. She was a singularly sensitive looking child, +with lips that paled too rapidly and veins that showed with almost +painful distinctness beneath the soft white skin. Her features were +delicately cut, and gave promise of future beauty, when health should +lend its vivifying touch to the white little face. Her eyes, of a tender +violet-gray, were even now remarkable, and her hair was of rippling +gold. + +Her sombre black dress and the sunshine that poured down upon the spot +where she was standing contributed to the dazzling effect produced by +her golden hair and white skin. There could not have been a greater +contrast than that between her and Andrew Westwood's daughter, upon whom +at that moment Hubert Lepel's eyes were fixed. + +Jenny Westwood, as she was generally called, although her father gave +her a different name, was thinner, browner wilder-looking, than she had +even been before. Miss Vane knew her by sight, but she had imagined that +the child had been taken away from the village by friends, or sent to +the workhouse by the authorities. It was a shock to her to find the +little creature at the park gates of Beechfield Hall. + +Enid did not seem to be embarrassed by her aunt's call. She ran up to +her at once, dragging the ragged child with her by the hand. Her face +was anxious and puzzled. + +"Oh, aunt Leo," she said, "this little girl has nowhere to go to--no +home--no anything!" + +"Let her hand go, Enid!" said aunt Leo, with some severity. "You have no +business to be out here in the road, talking to children whom you know +nothing about." + +Enid shrank a little, but she did not drop the child's hand. + +"But, aunt Leo, she is hungry and----" + +"Were you begging of this young lady?" Miss Vane said magisterially, her +eyes bent full on the ragged girl's dark face. + +But Andrew Westwood's daughter would not speak. + +"I'll talk to her," said Hubert, in a low tone. "You take Enid back to +the house, aunt Leo, and I'll send the child about her business." + +"No, no; you'll miss your train. It is time for you to go. Enid can run +back to the house by herself. Go, Enid!" + +"Why may I not speak to the little girl too?" said Enid wistfully. It +was not often that she was rebellious, but her face worked now as if she +were going to cry. + +"Never mind why--do as I tell you!" cried Miss Vane, who was growing +exasperated by the pain and difficulty of the situation, "I will see +what she wants." + +Enid hesitated for a moment, then flung herself impetuously upon Hubert. + +"Won't you help her?" she said, looking up into his face with sweet +entreaty. "I am sure you will be kind. The poor little girl has had +nothing to eat all day--I asked her. You will be kind to her, for you +are always kind." + +Hubert pressed her to him without speaking for a moment, then answered +gently-- + +"Both your aunt and I will be kind to her and help her, Enid--you may be +sure of that. Now run away home and leave us; we will do all we can." + +For the first time, the little outcast who had excited Enid's pity broke +the silence. + +"I don't want nothing; I wasn't begging, nor meaning to beg. She found +me asleep by the road and asked me if I was hungry--that was all." + +"And she is hungry," said Enid, with passion, "and you don't want me to +help her. You are unkind! Here, little girl--here is my shilling; it's +the only one I've got, and it has a hole in it, but you may have it, and +then you can get yourself something to eat in the village." + +She dashed forward with the coin, eluding a movement of Miss Vane's hand +designed to stop her in her course. The shilling lay in Jenny Westwood's +grimy little hand before the lady could interfere. + +"Don't take it away," Hubert whispered in his aunt's ear; "it will only +make her remember the scene for a longer time." + +"I know," Miss Vane answered grimly; and she stood still. + +Enid turned sorrowfully, half ashamed of her momentary rebellion, +towards the park gate. The other child seemed dazed by the excitement of +the speakers, and only half understood what had been going on. She stood +looking first at the coin in her hand and then at the donor, with a +strange questioning expression on her little brown face. Miss Vane and +Hubert also waited in silence, until Enid was out of hearing. Then, as +if by the same instinct, each drew a long breath and looked doubtfully +at the other and then at the child. + +"You will miss your train," said Miss Leonora. + +"I have done that already; so we may as well find out what brings the +girl here. Why not take her inside the park gates? If any one passes +by----" + +"You are right, Hubert, as usual. Come here, child--come inside for a +minute or two; I want to speak to you." + +The little girl glanced doubtfully at Miss Vane's handsome imperious +face. She seemed inclined to break away from her questioners and run +down the road; but a look from under her long lashes at Hubert seemed to +reassure her. The young man's face had certainly an attractive +quality--there was some sort of passion and pain in it, some mark of a +great struggle which had not been all ignoble; even if he had failed to +win the victory, a look which worked its way into the hearts of many who +would have refused their hands to him in sign of fellowship if they had +known the whole story of his life. This subtle charm had its influence +on little Jenny Westwood, although she had no suspicion of its cause. +She moved a little closer to him, and followed him inside the iron gates +of Beechfield Park. The great trees flung their shade over the broad +drive which ran between mossy banks for a mile before the house was +reached. Between their trunks the sunshine flickered on sheets of +bracken, already turning a little yellow from the heat; the straight +spikes of the foxglove, not yet in bloom, were visible here and there +amongst the undulating forms of the woodland fern. Hubert closed the +gate carefully behind him, and stood with his aunt so as to screen the +child from observation, should friends or acquaintances pass by. He had +a keen perception of the fact that Miss Vane was making an enormous +effort over pride and prejudice and affectionate prepossessions of all +kinds in even speaking a word to Andrew Westwood's child. He himself, in +the troubled depths of his soul, was stirred by a wild rush of pity and +remorse, of sharp unaffected desire to undo what had been done already, +to amend the injury that his hand had wrought--a far greater injury +indeed than he had dreamt of doing. He had always fancied Andrew +Westwood as lonely a man as--in the world's eyes--he was worthless; he +had not known until the day of the trial that the prisoner had a child. + +"Your name is 'Westwood,' I think?" Miss Vane began stonily. + +Hubert was keenly aware of the harshness of her tones. The girl nodded. + +"Your father is Andrew Westwood?" + +She nodded again, a dull red creeping into her brown cheeks. + +"What are you doing here?" There was a tragic intensity of indignation +in Miss Vane's way of putting the question, which Hubert wondered +whether the child could comprehend. "You ought to be far away from +Beechfield--it is the last place to which you should come!" + +The child lowered her face until it was nearly hidden on her breast, and +spoke for the second time. + +"Hadn't nowhere to go," she muttered. + +"Have you no home?" said Miss Vane sternly. + +"Only the cottage down by the pond where father lived. It is all shut up +now." + +"Where have you lived for the last few weeks? I heard that you were in +the workhouse." + +"Yes." Then, evidently with difficulty--"I ran away." + +"Then you were a bad wicked girl to do so," said Miss Vane, with +severity; "and you ought to be sent back again--and well whipped, into +the bargain!" + +Hubert made an impatient movement. He had never seen his aunt so much to +her disadvantage. She was harsh, unwomanly, inhuman. Was it in this way +that every woman would treat the poor child, remembering the story of +her father's crime? + +Miss Vane read the accusation in his eyes. She turned aside with an +abrupt gesture, half of defiance, half of despair. + +"I can't help it, Hubert," she said in an undertone. She raised her +handkerchief to her eyes and dashed away a tear. "I feel it a wrong to +Sydney, to Marion, to the child, that I should try to benefit any of +Westwood's family. I can't bear to speak to her--I can't bear her in my +sight. It makes me ill to see her." + +She covered her eyes with her hand, so that she might not see the ragged +miserable-looking little creature any longer. + +"It would make matters no better if the child were to die of neglect and +starvation at your gates, would it?" said Hubert bitterly. "She must be +got out of Beechfield at any rate; you will never be able to bear seeing +her about the roads--even amongst the workhouse children." + +"No, no, indeed! And Enid--Enid might meet her again!" + +"Go back to the house, aunt Leo," said the young man tenderly, "and +leave her to me. It is too great a strain upon your endurance, I see. I +will take the child to the Rectory; Mrs. Rumbold will know of some home +where she will be taken in--the farther away from Beechfield the +better." + +Miss Vane was unusually agitated. Her face was pale, and her lips moved +nervously; she carefully averted her eyes from the little girl whom she +had undertaken to question. Evidently she was on the verge of a +breakdown. + +"I never was so foolish in my life as I have been to-day. My nerves are +all unstrung," she said, turning her back on little Jenny Westwood. "I +think I'll take your advice, Hubert. Ask Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold, from me, +to see after the child. If they want money, I don't mind supplying it. +But do make them understand that the child must be kept out of +Beechfield." And with these words she walked briskly down the avenue, +without looking back. As she had said, the very sight of Andrew +Westwood's daughter made her ill. + +Hubert turned again towards the girl, wondering whether she had +overheard the conversation, which had been carried on in low tones, and, +if she had overheard it, how much she had understood. He could not find +out from her face. It was not a face that lacked intelligence, but it +was at present sullen and forbidding in expression. The black hair that +hung over her eyes hid her forehead, and gave her a rough, almost a +savage look. + +"You do not want to go back to the workhouse, do you?" Hubert said, +keenly regarding the stubborn face. + +"No--I won't go back." + +"Why not?" + +A hot burning blush sprang to the child's cheeks. + +"They call me names," she said in a low voice. + +"They? Who? And what names?" + +"The other girls, and the mistress too, and the women. They said that my +father's wicked, and that I am wicked too. They say that he is to be +hanged." + +The child suddenly burst out crying; her sobs, loud and unrestrained, +fell painfully on Hubert's ear. + +"I went to the prison to see him, but they would not let me; and then I +came back here." + +She sobbed for a minute or two longer, and then became quiet as suddenly +as she had broken into tears, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and +peering furtively at Hubert between the black fingers. + +"They were wrong," Hubert said at length. "Your father is not dead; he +is not to be hanged at all." He paused before he spoke again. "He is in +prison; he will be in prison for the rest of his life--a life sentence!" + +He spoke rather to himself than to the child. Never had he realised so +fully as at that moment what prison actually meant. To be shut up, away +from friends, away from home, away from the sweet wild woods, the +country air, the summer sun, to labor all day long at some heavy +monotonous task, such as breaks the spirit and the heart of man with its +relentless uniformity of toil--to wear the prison garb, to be known by a +number, as one dead to the ordinary life of men, leaving at the prison +gates that name which would be henceforth only a badge of disgrace to +all who bore it in the outer world--these aspects of Andrew Westwood's +sad case flashed in a moment across Hubert Lepel's mind with a thrill of +intolerable pain. What could he do? Rise up and offer to bear that +terrible punishment himself? It could not be--for Florence's sake, he +told himself, it could not be. And yet--yet---- Would that at the very +beginning he had told the truth, and stood where Andrew Westwood stood, +so that the ruffian and the poacher might not have to bear a doom that +separated him for ever from his only child! + +"Do you mean," said Jenny Westwood slowly, "that father will never come +out of prison any more?" + +"Perhaps--after many years--he may come out." + +"Many years? Three--or five?" + +"More--more, I am afraid, my little girl--perhaps in twenty years--if he +is still alive." + +He scarcely knew what impulse prompted him then to tell her the truth. +He repented it the next moment, for, after a horrified stare into his +face, the child suddenly flung herself down upon the gravelled path and +burst into tears, accompanied by passionate shrieking sobs and wild +convulsive movements of her limbs. + +"He shall come out--he shall come out!" Hubert heard her cry between her +gasps for breath. "He can't do without me. Take me to him, or I shall +die!" + +In utter dismay Hubert tried persuasion, argument, rebuke, for some time +in vain. At last he turned away from her, and began walking up and down +a short stretch of the drive, bitterly regretting the impulse that had +caused him to take the care of this strange child, even for a few +moments, on his hands. But he had promised to get rid of her, and he +must do so, if only for Enid's sake. It would never do to let this +little wild creature go on roaming about the village, asking questions +about her father. And there were better motives at work within the young +man's breast. It seemed to him that he had brought a duty on +himself--that he was at least responsible for Andrew Westwood's forlorn +and neglected child. + +He had not paced the drive for many minutes before the sobs began to +grow fainter. Finally they ceased, and the child drew herself into a +crouching position, with her head resting against the steep mossy bank +just within the gate. Seeing her so quiet, Hubert thought that he might +venture to speak to her again. + +"You must not cry so bitterly," he said, almost as he might have spoken +to a grown-up person, not to a child. + +"Grieving can do your poor father no good. Wait and grow up quickly. He +may come out of prison some day, and want his little daughter. If I take +you to a place where you can be taught to be a good girl, like other +girls, will you stay there?" + +The child raised her head and fixed her dark eyes upon him. + +"Not to the workhouse?" she said apprehensively. + +"I promise you--not to a workhouse, if you will be a good child." + +She scrambled to her feet at once, and, rather to Hubert's surprise, put +one hot and dirty little hand into his own. + +"I will be good," she said briefly; "and I will go wherever you like." + +Nothing seemed easier to her just then. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"But, dear me, Mr. Lepel," said Mrs. Rumbold, "there's no place for a +child like that but the workhouse." + +Hubert stood before the Rector's wife in a pretty little room opening +out upon the Rectory garden. Jenny had been left in the hall, seated on +one of the high-backed wooden chairs, while her protector told his tale. +Mrs. Rumbold--a short, stout, elderly woman with a good-natured smile +irradiating her broad face and kind blue eyes--sat erect in the +basket-chair wherein her portly frame more usually reclined, and +positively gasped as she heard his story. + +"To think of that child's behavior! I assure you, Mr. Lepel, that we +tried to do our duty. We knew how painful it would be for the dear +General and Miss Vane if any member of that wretched man's family were +left in the village, and we thought it simplified matters so much that +there was only one child--didn't we, Alfred?" + +Alfred was the Rector, a tall thin man, very slow in expressing his +ideas, and therefore generally resigning the task of doing so to his +wife's more nimble tongue. On this occasion, unready as usual with a +response, he crossed his legs one over the other, cleared his throat, +and had just prepared to utter the words, "We did indeed, my dear," when +Mrs. Rumbold was off again. + +"Some neighbors took care of her before the trial," she said +confidentially. "Indeed we paid them a small sum for doing so, Mr. +Lepel--we didn't like to send the child to the workhouse before we knew +how matters would turn out. But, when the poor wretched man was +condemned, I said to Alfred,'We really can't let the Smiths be burdened +any longer with Andrew Westwood's child--she must go to the Union!' And +Alfred actually went to Westwood, and asked him if he had any relatives +to whom the child could be sent--didn't you, Alfred?--and, when he said +that there were none, and that the girl might as well be brought up in +the workhouse as anywhere else, for she would always be an outcast like +himself--I quote his very words, Mr. Lepel--his graceless, reckless, +wicked words!--why, then, I just put on my hat and cloak, and I went to +the Smiths at once, and I said, 'Mrs. Smith, I've come to take little +Westwood to the workhouse;' and take her I did that very afternoon." + +"Do you know when she ran away?" Hubert asked. + +Mrs. Rumbold shook her head. + +"I haven't heard. Not more than a day or two ago, I should fancy, for +nobody seems to have been looking for her in this direction. I wonder +she came back to Beechfield, the hardened little thing!" + +"Oh, come, I don't think she is that, Mrs. Rumbold!" said Hubert, +affecting a lightness which assuredly he did not feel. "I fancy that she +wandered back to Beechfield out of love for her father and her old home, +poor child. She is not to be blamed for her father's sins, surely!" he +added, seeing rather an odd expression on Mrs. Rumbold's face as the +involuntary words of pity passed his lips. + +"Oh, no, no--of course not!" Mrs. Rumbold hastened to reply. "It is very +kind of you, Mr. Lepel, and very kind of Miss Vane too, to interest +yourselves in the fate of Andrew Westwood's daughter--very Christian, I +am sure!" + +"I don't know that," said Hubert, somewhat awkwardly. "I fancy that my +cousin simply wishes to get the child away from the place before the +General is well enough to go out again--I suppose he knows her by sight. +It would be painful to him--and little Enid might come to hear." + +"Of course, of course! I quite understand, Mr. Lepel. And the Churton +workhouse is so near Beechfield too!" + +"She shall not go back to the workhouse," said Hubert, with firmness. "I +am resolved on that!" + +"An orphanage, I suppose? Well, we might get her into an orphanage if we +paid a small sum for her; but who would pay? There's the Anglican +Sisterhood at East Winstead--not that I quite approve of Sisterhoods +myself," said Mrs. Rumbold grimly--"but I know that in this case the +Sisters are doing a good work and for a small annual payment----" + +"I don't much like the idea of a Sisterhood. Do you know of a smaller +place--an ordinary school perhaps--where she could be taken in and +clothed and taught and civilised?" + +"No, Mr. Lepel, I don't. You could not send a child like that to a +lady's house without letting the whole story be told; and who would take +her then? In a charitable institution, now, she could be admitted, and +no questions asked." + +"I did not think--I did not exactly want to find a charitable +institution," said Hubert, suddenly seeing that his position would +appear very strange in the Rumbolds' eyes, and yet resolved to stick to +his point. No, whatever happened, "little Westwood," as Mrs. Rumbold +called her, should not be brought up as a "charity-girl." He had an +instinctive understanding of the suffering that the child would endure +if she were not in kindly hands; and he did not think that the +atmosphere of a large semi-public institution would be favorable to her +future welfare. + +Mrs. Rumbold looked at him in open-eyed perplexity. + +"But, Mr. Lepel, what do you want?" + +"I want the child to be happy," Hubert cried, with some vexation--"I +want her to be where she will never be taunted with her father's +position, where she will be kindly treated, and brought up to earn her +own living in a suitable way." + +"Then," said the Rector, startling both his hearers by the ponderous +solemnity of his tones, "send her to Winstead." + +Hubert turned towards him respectfully. + +"You think so, sir?" + +"The Sisters are good women," said Mr. Rumbold. "They love the children +and train them well. I have twice sent orphans from this village to +their care, and in each case I believe that there could not have been a +happier result." + +"You'll be charmed if you go over the house at Winstead, Mr. Lepel," +said Mrs. Rumbold coaxingly. "Do go over and see yourself what it is +like. Such a lovely house, half covered with purple clematis and +Virginia creeper, and a dear little chapel, and beautiful grounds! And +the expense is quite trifling--twelve or sixteen pounds a year, I +believe, for each of the dear little orphans!" + +"If you speak so highly of it, I am sure I may take it on trust," +answered Hubert, with a smile. He was growing weary of the discussion. +"Take the child and do the best for her, will you, Mrs. Rumbold? My +cousin and I will supply all funds that may be needed." + +"I am sure that's very good of you, Mr. Lepel. The child couldn't be +happier anywhere than she will be at Winstead. Alfred will write at once +about it--will you not, Alfred?" + +Alfred bowed assent. + +"I suppose it will take a few days to settle," said Hubert, looking from +one to the other. "In the meantime----" + +"Oh, in the meantime she can stay here!" said Mrs. Rumbold expansively. +"She will be no trouble, poor thing! I can put up a little bed for her +in one of the attics." + +"She's not very clean, I'm afraid, Mrs. Rumbold. She looks exceedingly +black." + +"I expect that the black's all on the surface," said the Rector's wife. +"You needn't laugh, Alfred; Mr. Lepel knows what I mean, I'm sure. The +child's been in the workhouse for more than a fortnight, and has left it +only for the last day or two; she is just dusty and grimy with the heat +and exercise, and will be glad of a bath, poor thing! I'll make her look +beautiful before she goes to Winstead, you'll see." + +"Then I may leave her in your charge? It is exceedingly good of you," +said Hubert, rising to take his leave. "I don't know what I should have +done with her but for you." + +"My dear Mr. Lepel, I am sure the goodness is all on your side!" cried +Mrs. Rumbold. "I should not have thought of a gentleman like you, one of +your family, troubling himself about a ragged miserable child like this +little Westwood girl. I'm sure she ought to be eternally grateful to you +all!" + +"Oh, by-the-bye," said Hubert, turning round as he was nearing the door, +"you have reminded me of something that I may as well mention now, Mrs. +Rumbold! Oblige me by not telling any one that I--we have anything to do +with providing for the child. Do not speak of it to the girl herself or +to any one in the village. And pray do not allude to it in conversation +with my cousins at the Hall!" + +"If you wish it, of course I will not mention it to any one," said Mrs. +Rumbold, bridling a little at what she conceived to be an imputation on +her discretion. "You may trust me, I am sure, Mr. Lepel. We will not +breathe a word." + +"And particularly not a word to the child herself," Hubert said, turning +his eyes upon the Rector's wife with such earnestness in their troubled +depths that she was quite impressed. "I do not wish her to be burdened +with the feeling that she owes anything to us." + +"Oh, Mr. Lepel, how generous, how delicate-minded!" cried the effusive +little woman, throwing up her hands in admiration. "Now I wouldn't have +believed that there was a young man that could be so thoughtful of +others' feelings--I wouldn't indeed, Mr. Hubert! Must you go? Won't you +stay and have dinner with us to-night?" + +"Thank you--no; I am engaged--a dinner in town," said Hubert hastily. "I +will leave you my address"--he produced a card from his pocket-book, and +with it a ten-pound note--"and this will perhaps be useful in getting +clothes and things of that kind for her. If you want more, you will let +me know." + +He escaped with difficulty from Mrs. Rumbold's rapturous expression of +surprise at his liberality, and at last got out into the hall. Andrew +Westwood's little girl was still sitting on the chair where she had been +placed, her hands crossed before her on her lap, her bare feet swinging +idly to and fro, her dark eyes fixed vaguely on the trees and shrubs of +the Rectory garden, which she could see from the hall window. Hubert +paused beside her and spoke. + +"I am going to leave you with this lady--Mrs. Rumbold," he said. "You +know her already, and know that she will be kind to you. You are to go +to a good school, where I hope that you will be happy." + +The child's eyes dilated as she listened to him. + +"Are you going away?" she said. + +"Yes; I am going back to London," the young man answered kindly. "You +will stay here, like a good little girl, won't you?" + +"Do you want me to?" she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead +and gazing at him anxiously. + +"Yes, I do." + +She nodded. "I'll stay," she said curtly. + +And then she lapsed once more into her former state of silence and +sullenness; and Hubert left her with a smile of farewell and a secret +aspiration that he might not see her again; for it seemed to him that he +could never look upon the face of Andrew Westwood's daughter without a +pang. + +He decided to catch the seven o'clock train to London. + +"You'll be late for your engagement, I am afraid," Mrs. Rumbold said to +him; thinking of his excuse for running away. + +He only smiled and nodded as he walked off, by way of reply. His dinner +in town, he knew well enough, would be eaten in solitude at his club. He +had no other engagement; but he would have invented half a hundred +excuses sooner than stay an hour longer than was necessary under General +Vane's hospitable roof. + +He dined silently and expeditiously at his club, and then made his way +through the lighted streets to his lodgings in Bloomsbury. A barrister +by profession, he had found his real vocation in literature, and he +liked to live within easy reach of libraries and newspaper offices. He +had been making a fair income lately, and his earnings were very +acceptable to him, for he was not a man of particularly economical +habits. He had about a hundred a year of his own, and Miss Vane allowed +him another hundred--all else had to be won by the work of his own +hands. And yet, as he passed up the staircase to his own rooms, he was +wondering whether he could not manage to dispense with Miss Vane's +hundred a year. + +He had let himself in with his latch-key, and the room which he entered +was lighted only by the lamps in the street. He had not been expected so +early, and his landlady had forgotten to bring the lamp which he was in +the habit of using. He struck a match and lit the gas, pulled down the +blinds, and threw himself with a heavy sigh into the great leathern +arm-chair that stood before his writing-table. + +He felt mortally tired. The events of the day had been such as would +have tried a strong man's nerve, and Hubert Lepel was at this time out +of sorts, physically as well as mentally. He had seldom gone through +such hours of keen torture as he had borne that day; and his face--pale, +worn, miserable--seemed to have lost all its youth as he lay back in the +great arm-chair and thought of the past. + +He rose at last with an impatient word. + +"It is madness to brood over what cannot be undone," he said to himself. +"I must 'dree my own weird' without a word to any living soul. Florence +has my secret, and I have hers; to her I am bound by a tie that nothing +on earth can break. And I can have no other ties. I am bad enough, +Heaven knows, but I am not so bad as to render myself responsible for +the happiness of a wife, for the welfare of children, for a home! With +this hanging over me, how can I hope for any happiness in life? I am as +much under punishment as poor Westwood in his prison-cell. I have no +rights, no hopes, no love. A life sentence did I say that he had +received? And have I not a life sentence too?" + +He was standing beside his writing-table, and his eyes fell upon a +photograph which had adorned it for the last six months. It represented +a girl's face--a bright, pretty, careless face, with large eyes and +parted smiling lips. For the first time he did not admire it very much; +for the first time he found it a trifle soulless and vapid. + +"Poor Mary," he said, looking at it with a kind of wonder in his +eyes--"what will she say when she finds that I do not go to her father's +house any more? I do not think that she will care very much. She has +seen little enough of me lately! I could not ask her now to link her +fate with mine, poor child! She would hate me if she knew. Best to +forget her, as she will forget me!" + +He took the photograph out of its frame and deliberately tore it across; +then he set himself to reduce it to the smallest possible fragments, +until they lay in a little heap upon his writing-table. His face was +grave and rigid as he performed the task, but it showed little trace of +pain. His fancy for "Mary," the pretty daughter of an old professor, had +taken no deep root. Henceforth it vanished from his life, his memory, +his heart. "Mary," like all his other dreams, was dead to him. + +A knock at the door startled him as he completed his work. A servant +brought in a telegram, which he tore open hastily. As he expected, it +was from Miss Vane. + +"Marion died this evening at seven o'clock, from syncope of the heart. +Funeral on Thursday." + +"Another victim!" Hubert said to himself, laying down the pink paper +with something like a groan. "Am I responsible for this too? A life +sentence, did I say? It would take a hundred lives to compensate for all +the harm that Florence and I have done!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"'Cynthia Westwood'--is that your name?" said Mrs. Rumbold. "Dear me, I +always thought that it was just 'Jane' or 'Jenny!' Wouldn't it be better +to change it, and call her something more appropriate to her station?" + +"Perhaps," said the injudicious Rector, "she may not like to be called +by a name that does not belong to her." + +He was looking at Jenny--or Cynthia, as she had just informed them that +she was called--a transformed and greatly altered Cynthia under Mrs. +Rumbold's management--Cynthia with hair cut short, hands and face +scrupulously clean, a neat but ugly print frock, and a coarse holland +pinafore--a perfectly subdued and uninteresting Cynthia--uninteresting +save for the melancholy beauty of her great dark wistful eyes. + +"What she likes has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Rumbold, rather +sharply. "Besides, she has another name--she told me so +herself--'Cynthia Janet'--that's what she was christened, she tells me. +She can be called 'Jane Wood' at Winstead." + +The Rector looked up in mild surprise. + +"Why not 'Jane Westwood,' my dear? 'Westwood' is her name." + +"She had much better not be known as Westwood's daughter," said Mrs. +Rumbold, with decision, quite heedless of Cynthia's presence. "It will +be against her all her life. I have told Sister Louisa about her, and +she asked me to let her be called 'Wood.' 'Jane Wood' is a nice sensible +name." + +"Well, as you please. You will not mind being called 'Jane,' will you, +my dear?" said the Rector, mindful of the red flush that was creeping +into the little pale cheeks. + +He was a kindly old gentleman, in spite of his slow, absent-minded ways; +and there was a very benevolent light in his eyes as he sat in his +elbow-chair, newspaper on knee, spectacles on nose, and surveyed the +child who had been brought to his study for inspection. + +Mrs. Rumbold fairly lost her patience at the question. + +"How can you ask her such a thing, Alfred? As if it was her business to +mind one way or another! She ought to be thankful that she is so well +taken care of without troubling about her name. 'Jane Wood' is a very +good name indeed, much better than that silly-sounding 'Cynthia'!"--and +Mrs. Rumbold swept the child before her out of the room in a state of +high indignation at the stupidity of all men. + +So Cynthia Westwood--or Jenny Westwood, as the Beechfield people called +her--was transformed into Jane Wood. She did not seem to object to the +change. She was in a dazed, stunned state of mind, in which she +understood only half of what was said to her, and when the scenes and +faces around her made a very slight impression upon her memory. One or +two things stood out clearly from the rest. One was Enid Vane's sweet +childish face, as she thrust her shilling with the hole in it into the +little outcast's hand. Cynthia had carefully hidden the coin away; she +was resolved never to spend it. She took it out and looked at it +sometimes, feeling, though she could not have put her feelings into +words, that it was an actual visible sign of some one's kindness of +heart, of some one's love and pity for her. And the other thing was the +dark melancholy face of the man who had brought her to the Rectory, and +told her to be good for her father's sake. + +She liked to think of his face best of all. It was one that she was sure +she would never forget. She brooded over it with silent adoration, with +a simple faith and confidence in the goodness of its owner, which would +have cut him to the heart if he had ever dreamed of it. He had been kind +to her; that was all she knew. She rewarded him by the devotion of her +whole being. It was surely a great reward for such a little act! She did +not know that it was he who was to pay for her going to school, that it +was he who had rescued her from the degradation of her outcast life. + +Mrs. Rumbold kept her word to Hubert. She talked vaguely in Cynthia's +presence of "kind friends" who were doing "so much" for her; but Cynthia +associated the idea of "kind friends" with that of Mrs. Rumbold herself, +and was not grateful. The child was not old enough, and had been too +much stunned by the various experiences of her little life, to be very +curious. She did not know Mr. Lepel by name, or why he should be at +Beechfield at all. He did not often visit the Vanes, although he saw a +good deal of his aunt Leonora in London. He was quite a stranger to half +the people in the village. + +Also, Cynthia's father, now in prison for the murder of Sydney Vane, had +not lived long in Beechfield, and did not know the history and +relationships of the Squire's family, as natives of Beechfield were +supposed to do. He had been two years in the village, and had rented a +tumbledown ruinous cottage by the side of a marshy pond, which no one +else would occupy. Here he had lived a lonely life, gathering rushes +from the pond and weaving baskets out of them, doing a day's work in the +fields now and then, setting snares for rabbits, trapping foxes, and +killing game--a man suspected by the authorities, shunned by the village +respectabilities, avoided by even those wilder spirits who met at the +"Blue Lion" to talk of bullocks and to drink small-beer. For he was not +of a genial disposition. He was gruff and surly in speech, given neither +to drink nor to conversation--just the sort of man, his neighbors said, +to commit a terrible crime, to revenge himself upon a magistrate who +had once sent him to gaol for poaching, and had threatened to turn him +out of his wretched cottage by the pond. + +And his little girl too--the villagers were indignant at the way in +which Cynthia was brought up. She was seldom seen in the village school, +never at church or in Mrs. Rumbold's Sunday-classes. She was rough, +wild, ignorant. Careful village mothers would not let their children +play with her, and district-visitors went out of their way to avoid +her--for she had been known to fling stones at boys who had come too +near, and she laughed in the faces of people who tried to lecture her. +Jenny Westwood was thus very little in the way of hearing Beechfield +gossip, or she would have known all about Mr. Lepel and his sister, who +acted as Miss Enid's governess, and concerning whose moonlit walks with +Miss Enid's "papa" there had already been a good deal of conversation. +She knew nothing of all this. There was a big house a mile from the +village, and in this big house lived a wicked cruel man who had sent her +father to prison--so much she knew. And her father was now in prison for +killing that wicked man. Why should one not kill the person who injures +one? It did not seem so very terrible to Cynthia. Before her father had +brought her to Beechfield, she remembered, they had travelled a good +deal from place to place; and while they were "on the tramp," as her +father expressed it, she had seen much of the rougher side of life. She +had seen blows given and returned--fighting, violence, bloodshed. She +had a vague idea that, if her father had killed Mr. Vane, it was perhaps +not the first time that he had taken the life of a fellow-man. + +Mrs. Rumbold certainly showed much kindliness and charity in taking this +forlorn little girl into her spotless well-regulated household, even for +a week, until matters were settled with the authorities of the workhouse +which she had quitted and the orphanage to which she was going. The +Rectory servants were indignant at having the society of "a murderer's +child" forced upon them. If she had stayed much longer, they would have +given notice in a body. But fortunately Mrs. Rumbold was able to arrange +matters with the Winstead Sisters very speedily, and the day following +the funeral of Mrs. Sydney Vane--laid to rest beside her husband only +three months after his untimely death--saw Cynthia's little box packed, +and herself, arrayed in neat but very unbecoming garments, conveyed by +Mrs. Rumbold to the charitable precincts of St. Elizabeth's Orphanage at +Winstead, where she was introduced to the black-robed, white-capped +Sisters and a crowd of blue-cloaked children like herself as Jane Wood, +orphan, from the village of Beechfield, in Hants. + +However, Mrs. Rumbold told the whole of Cynthia's story to the Sister in +charge of the Orphanage, a sweet-faced motherly woman, who looked as if +children were dear to her. The one reservation made by the Rector's wife +referred to the person or persons who were to pay the child's expenses. +Their names, she said emphatically, were never to be mentioned. The good +Sister smiled, and thought to herself that the very reservation told its +own story. Of course it was the Vanes who were thus providing for +Cynthia Westwood's continued absence from their village. It was natural +perhaps. + +She noticed that the child showed no sign of sorrow at parting from Mrs. +Rumbold. She looked white, tired, almost stupefied. Sister Louisa took +hold of the little hands, and found them cold and trembling. + +When the Rector's wife was gone, the good woman--"the mother of the +children," as she was sometimes called--drew the little girl to her knee +and kissed her tenderly. It needed very little real affection to call +forth a response in Cynthia's yearning heart. She burst into tears and +buried her face in the mother's ample bosom, won from that moment to all +the claims of love and duty, and a religion of which she as yet had +scarcely heard the name. + +As time went on, Mrs. Rumbold received letters from Sister Louisa +relative to Jane Wood's progress. Jane Wood was, on the whole, a very +satisfactory pupil. She was a girl of strong will and strong passions, +often in disgrace, and yet a universal favorite. She possessed more than +usual ability, and soon caught up with the girls of her own age who had +at first been far in advance of her in class; then she surpassed them, +and began to attract attention; and at the end of two years Mrs. Rumbold +received a letter which perplexed her so sorely, that she sent it at +once to Mr. Hubert Lepel, who was still living a bachelor-life in +London. + +The letter, from Sister Louisa, was to the effect that Jane Wood, the +girl from Beechfield, had developed a great talent for music, and seemed +very superior to the station of domestic service for which she had been +designed. The Sister received twenty or thirty boarders--daughters of +gentlemen for the most part, for whom ordinary terms were paid--in +addition to the orphans; these girls of a superior class were educated +by the Sisters, and often remained at St. Elizabeth's until they were +eighteen or nineteen. If the amount paid for Jane Wood could be +increased to forty pounds a year, the Sisters proposed to educate her as +a governess; with her talent for music and other accomplishments, they +were quite sure that the girl would turn out a credit to her kind +patrons and patronesses, as well as to St. Elizabeth's. + +Mr. Lepel sent back an answer by return of post. Jane Wood--he knew her +by no other Christian name--was to have every advantage the good sisters +could give her. If she had talents, they were to be cultivated. When she +was old enough to be placed out in the world to earn her own living, his +allowance would of course cease; till then, and while she wanted help, +her friends would provide for her. + +"So Westwood's child is to be made a lady of!" said Mrs. Rumbold, laying +down the letter with a sense of virtuous indignation. "Well, I hope that +Mr. Lepel won't repent it. I wonder what Miss Vane thinks of it?" + +But Miss Vane had never even heard the name of Jane Wood. + +Hubert Lepel was gradually achieving literary success. But the road to +success is often stony and beset with thorns and briars. His name was +becoming known as that of a writer of popular fiction; he had a play in +hand of which people prognosticated great things. For all these reasons +he was much too busy to give any special attention to the affairs of the +child at St. Elizabeth's School. He agreed to Sister Louisa's +proposition, and sent money for the girl's education--that was all that +he could do. And so another year went by, and then another, and he heard +nothing more about Jane Wood. + +But at the close of a London season, when town was emptying fast and the +air was becoming exhausted, and everybody who had a chance of going into +the country was sighing to be off, it occurred to Hubert Lepel to +wonder how the child that he had befriended was progressing. It took +little time for him to make up his mind that he would go down to +Winstead and see the school, which was quite a show-place and had been a +great deal talked about. A card and a line from a clerical friend would +introduce him, and his literary work gave him an excuse for wishing to +inspect the institution. It would be supposed that he meant to write an +article upon it. He did not intend to say why he had come. + +The building occupied by the Sisters of St. Elizabeth was certainly +beautiful and picturesque. Hubert remembered with a half smile the +enthusiastic praise that Mrs. Rumbold had bestowed upon it. The chapel, +an exquisite little gem of Gothic architecture, stood in the centre, +flanked by two long gray wings appropriated to the school-girls and +their teachers, the Orphanage and the Sisterhood. St. Elizabeth's was +becoming quite a noted school for girls, especially among persons of +High Anglican proclivities; and in surveying the lovely buildings, the +exquisitely-kept grounds, the smooth lawns and shrubberies which met his +eyes. Hubert could not but acknowledge that the outer appearance of the +place was all that could be desired. The school buildings were swathed +in purple clematis and roses; there was a pleasant hum of voices, even +of laughter, from some of the deep mullioned windows; and he saw a host +of children sporting on the lawn in the distance. The scene was bright, +peaceful, and joyous. Hubert Lepel felt a momentary thrill of relief; he +had done well for Westwood's child--he need not reproach himself on that +score. + +A portress with a rosy smiling face admitted him into a visitors' room, +a small but cosy place, with vases of flowers on the table, sacred +pictures and a black-and-white crucifix on the yellow-washed walls. Here +a Sister clad in conventual garb came to inquire his business. The +stillness of the house, the unfamiliar aspect of the women's dresses, +reminded Hubert of some French and Flemish Romanist convents which he +had visited abroad. He was charmed with the likeness. It was something, +he said to himself, to find such serenity, such sweet placidity of life, +possible in the very midst of nineteenth-century England, with all her +turmoil and bustle and distraction. He did not discuss with himself the +question as to whether the life led by the inmates of these retreats +was wholesome or agreeable; it was simply on the æsthetic side that its +aspect pleased him. He could fancy himself for a moment in the depths of +a foreign land or far back in remote mediæval times. + +Could he see the buildings, the church, the school, the orphanage? Oh, +certainly! Sister Agnes, who had come to him, would be pleased to show +him everything. + +She was very pleasant in manner, and he had no difficulty in obtaining +from her any amount of information about the institution. It seemed that +he had by chance come on a festival day, and every one was making +holiday. The children were all out in the fields or the garden; he could +see their schoolrooms and dormitories and refectory. They were all +rather bare, exquisitely clean and airy, full of the most recent +improvements as regarded educational appliances. + +"This is the Orphanage building," Sister Agnes explained. "We do not +generally show the class-rooms belonging to the other school; but, as +all the ladies are out, you may see them if you like." + +So Hubert peeped into the rooms, occupied by the girl-boarders, who were +on a very different footing from the orphans, and whose surroundings, +though simple, were almost elegant in their simplicity. The furniture +was of good artistic design, the windows were emblazoned in jewel-like +colors, the proportions of the rooms were stately as those of an Oxford +college hall. Hubert smiled a little at the picture of Westwood's ragged +daughter amidst all this magnificence. + +Last of all he was shown the chapel, the most beautiful building of the +place, and on this day in particular largely decorated with the choicest +flowers. + +As they were coming out, a bell began to ring, and presently they met a +procession of school-girls, all dressed alike in white frocks and broad +hats, on their way to some afternoon service of prayer and praise. +Hubert scanned their faces heedfully as they passed by, but he could not +find one amongst them that reminded him of the thin little countenance, +the gipsy eyes of the convict Westwood's child. + +He could not resist the temptation to ask a question. + +"Have you not here," he said, "a girl called Jane Wood?" + +Sister Agnes gazed at him in astonishment, and the tears suddenly rushed +into her eyes. + +"Do you know anything of Jane Wood?" she cried excitedly. "Oh, you ask +for her at a very critical time! She has been with us four years, and we +loved her as our own child; but she ran away from us two days ago, and +we have not seen her since!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"What do you mean?" said Hubert, starting in his turn. "The girl gone?" + +Sister Agnes was in tears already. + +"Let me fetch Sister Louisa or the Reverend Mother to you?" she cried. +"They know all about it--as far as anybody can know anything. You--you +are one of her friends, perhaps? Oh, the dear child--and we loved her so +dearly!" + +Hubert was looking pale and stern. He had stopped short on the gravelled +pathway, half-way between the chapel and the entrance to the school. The +beauty, the interest of the place was lost upon him at once. He cared +only to hear what had become of the child whom he had fondly imagined +himself to be benefiting. If she had been unhappy, if she had run away +into the wide world on account of ill-treatment by her teachers and +fellow-pupils, was he not to blame? He ought to have come to the place +before and made inquiries, not left her fate to the light words of Mrs. +Rumbold or some unknown Sister Louisa. He had made himself responsible +for her education; was he not in some sort responsible for her happiness +as well? + +These questionings made his face look very dark and grave as he stood +once more in the visitors' room, awaiting the arrival of the lady whom +Sister Agnes had called Sister Louisa, and whose letters to Mrs. Rumbold +he remembered that he had read. + +He felt himself prejudiced against her before she arrived; but, when he +saw her, he was compelled to own that she had a very attractive +countenance. The face itself, framed in its setting of white and black, +was long and pale, but beautiful by reason of its sweetness of +expression; the gray eyes were full of tenderness, yet full of grief. +There were marks of tears upon her face--the only one that the visitor +had seen that was at all dolorous; and yet, noting her serene brow and +gentle lips, Hubert, man of the world as he was, and more ready to cavil +and despise than to admire, said to himself that, if any woman could +make a young girl love her, surely this woman would not fail! + +"You wish," she said, "to ask some questions about our pupil Jane Wood?" + +"I do indeed. I am very much surprised to hear that she has left you." + +"May I ask whether you have any authority from our friend Mrs. Rumbold +to inquire?" + +"Mrs. Rumbold takes her authority from me," said Hubert quietly. + +Then, as the Sister looked at him with a little uncertainty in her mild +gray eyes, he felt in his pocket and drew out a pocket-book. + +"I think I have a letter here from Mrs. Rumbold which will establish my +claim to make inquiries. It is a mere chance that I have not destroyed +it, but it is here, and will serve as my credentials perhaps." + +Sister Louisa took the letter from his hand and looked at it. It was the +one which Mrs. Rumbold had written to Mr. Lepel when she had heard of +Jane Wood's talent for music and other accomplishments from "the mother +of the children" herself. + +The good Sister smiled sadly as she gave it back. + +"I see now who you are, Mr. Lepel. You are really this poor child's +great friend and helper." + +"I am acting for my family, of course," said Hubert, a little stiffly. +"The girl has naturally no right to expect anything from us; but we were +sorry for her desolate portion." + +"Yes, poor child--she has a hard lot to bear." + +If Hubert was stung by this asseveration, he did not show it. + +"I always heard that she was very happy here," he said. + +"And so she was--or so she seemed to be," said Sister Louisa, with +energy. "She was a great favorite, always at the top of the classes, +always full of life and spirit, always bright and engaging. Poor Janie! +To think that she should have left us in this way!" + +"Why did she leave you, and how?" + +"Mr. Lepel," said the Sister, "if I tell you that our Janie had a fault, +you won't think hardly of her or of us? A girl of fifteen is not often +perfect, and we are sometimes obliged to reprove, even to punish, those +under our charge; and yet I assure you there was not a person in the +house, woman or child, who did not love poor Janie." + +"I am to understand, then, that she was under punishment?" + +Sister Louisa shook her head slightly and sighed. She felt that it was +difficult to make this young man of the world understand that girls of +fifteen were sometimes exceedingly trying to their elders and superiors; +but she would do her best. + +"Janie was very affectionate," she said, "but passionate in temper, and +obstinate when thwarted. She had a curious amount of pride--much more +than one usually finds in so young a girl or one of her extraction. Her +high spirits too were a snare to her. She was reproved three days ago +for laughing aloud in a chapel; and, as she showed an unsubmissive +spirit, she was sent into a room alone in order to meditate. Into this +room one of our lay Sisters went by accident, not knowing that Jane Wood +was there for seclusion, and began to talk to her. This young woman, +Martha by name, came from the neighborhood of Beechfield, and happened +to mention Mrs. Rumbold." + +"Ah, I see!" Hubert exclaimed involuntarily. + +"Jane questioned her about the place--questioned her particularly, I +believe, about a gentleman that she remembered. I think, Mr. Lepel, that +she must have been thinking of yourself, according to the description +that Martha tells us she gave of him; but Martha could not tell her your +name, which it seems the child did not know. It was natural perhaps that +Martha should pass on to the subject of that tragedy at Beechfield--the +murder of Mr. Sydney Vane and the fate of the murderer." + +Sister Louisa paused for a moment--it seemed to her that the young man's +dark handsome face had turned exceedingly pale. He was leaning against +the wall, close to the window; he moved aside a little, as he did not +wish her to see his face, and begged her to proceed with her story. She +went on. + +"Martha's tale at this point becomes confused; either she is not sure +of what she said or is reluctant to repeat it. Some slur, some +imputation was no doubt thrown upon the name of Janie's father; and I +believe that she thought that Martha knew her story and was insulting +her. At any rate, the whole establishment was roused by the sound of +screams proceeding from the room. We rushed thither, and found Martha +crouching in a corner, shrieking hysterically, and declaring that Miss +Wood was going to murder her; while Janie--poor Janie----" + +"I can imagine it," said Hubert, in a low tone; while Sister Louisa +paused for breath--and perhaps to recover the calmness that she had +lost. + +"Our poor Janie," proceeded the kind-hearted woman, "was like one who +had gone mad. She was white as death, her eyes were flaming, her hands +clenched; but all that she seemed able to say were the words, 'My father +was innocent--innocent--innocent!' I should think that she repeated the +words a hundred times. Greatly to our sorrow, Mr. Lepel, the whole story +then came out. We could not silence either Martha or poor Janie--who, I +really think, did not know what she was saying. In spite of our efforts +to keep the matter quiet, in a very short time the whole house--Sisters, +boarders, servants--all knew Jane Wood's sad history." + +She noted the rigid lines about Mr. Lepel's mouth as he stepped forward +from the window and spoke in a low stern tone. + +"Was it impossible to prevent? It seems incredible to me. I +hope"--almost savagely--"that you have punished for her extraordinary +folly the woman who did the mischief?" + +"She has been sent away," said Sister Louisa sadly; "but her punishment +has not mended matters, Mr. Lepel. The excitement in the school was +immense--unprecedented. We felt that it would be incumbent upon us to +send Janie away for a time--until the story was to some extent +forgotten." + +"And you told her so? Women have hearts of stone!" cried Hubert. He +forgot that his conduct had not hitherto proved that his own was very +soft. + +"I hope that we were not unkind to her," said Sister Louisa, with gentle +dignity. "It was to be for a time only. We wanted her to go down to +Leicestershire with two of our Sisters for a few weeks; we thought it +advisable that she should have a change. The Reverend Mother herself +mentioned the plan to her. I noticed that she changed color very much +when it was proposed. She made one of her sharp speeches--quite in her +old way, 'I see--I am not good enough to associate with the other +girls,' she said. We told her that it was no such thing--that we loved +her as much as ever--that it was only for her own good that she was to +leave St. Elizabeth's for a time; but I am afraid that it was all of no +avail. She listened to what we said with a face of stone. And in the +morning--in the morning, Mr. Lepel, we found that she was gone." + +"Gone! Without the knowledge of any of you?" + +"Entirely. She must have stolen out in the middle of the night when +every one was asleep. It is a wonder that no one heard her; but she is +very light-footed and very nimble. She must have climbed the garden +fence. She had left a folded piece of paper on her bed--it was a note +for me." + +"May I see it?" said Hubert eagerly. + +Sifter Louisa drew it from among the folds of her long black robes. He +turned away from her while he read the few blurred hastily-written lines +in which Janie said good-bye to the woman whom she had loved. He did not +want Sister Louisa to see his face. He was more touched by her story +than he liked to show. + +"Dearest Mother Louisa," Janie had written, in her unformed girlish +hand--"Don't be more angry and grieved than you can help! If they had +all been like you, I would have stayed. But everyone will despise me +now. I shall go to some place where nobody knows me, and earn my own +living. Please forgive me! I do love you and St. Elizabeth's very much; +but I must go away--I must! I can't bear to stay now that everybody +knows all about me. I shall change my name, so you need not look for +me." + +The letter was simply signed "Janie"--nothing more. Robert handed it +back to its owner with a grave word of thanks. + +"How is it," he said, "that I did not hear of her leaving you before I +came to Winstead? Mrs. Rumbold is supposed to give me information of +anything of importance respecting the girl. I have not had a word from +her." + +"Nor have we, although we wrote and telegraphed at once. I am afraid +that she is away from home. We did not know your address, or that you +were interested in her." + +"Of course not. I kept that matter to myself," said Hubert gloomily. "It +seems that it was foolish of me to do so. May I ask what steps you have +taken to discover the poor child?" + +The Sisters, he found, had not been remiss in their endeavors. They had +placed themselves in communication with a London detective; they had +consulted the local police; they had made inquiries at railway stations +and roadside inns. But as yet they had heard nothing of the fugitive. +The girl was strong and active, a good walker and runner; it seemed +pretty evident that she had not gone by train or by ordinary roads. She +must have plunged into the fields and taken a cross-country route in +some direction. Probably she had gone to London; and in London she was +tolerably safe from pursuit. + +"Had she money?" Hubert asked of Sister Louisa. + +"Not a penny." + +"She will be driven back to you by hunger." + +"I am afraid not. She was too proud to return to us of her own free +will." + +"Is she good-looking?" + +"No, I think not," said the Sister, a little doubtfully. "She was tall +for her age, thin and unformed; she had a brown skin and hair cut short +like a boy's. Her eyes were beautiful--large and dark; but she was too +pale and awkward-looking to be pretty. When she had a color--oh, then it +was a different matter!" + +Hubert took away with him a full description of Jane Wood's clothes and +probable appearance, and on reaching London went straight to the office +of a private detective. To this man he told as much of Jane's story as +was necessary, and declared himself ready to spend any reasonable amount +of money so long as there was a possibility of finding the lost girl. +The detective was not very hopeful of success; the runaway had already +had two days' start--enough for a complete change of identity. Probably +she had put on boy's clothes and was lurking about the streets of +London. + +"But she had no money!" Hubert urged. + +"She'll get some somehow," the detective answered quietly. + +For some days and weeks Hubert lived in a fever of suspense. He had set +his heart on finding the girl and sending her back to St. +Elizabeth's--or elsewhere. Some kind of home must be secured to her. For +the sake of his own peace of mind, he must know that she was safe. He +could not forgive Mrs. Rumbold for having been absent in Switzerland +when Sister Louisa wrote to her of Jane Wood's flight, and thus being +unable to inform him of it immediately. He had an unreasonable +conviction that, if he had known at once of Janie's disappearance, he +would have succeeded in tracking her. But for this opinion he really had +no ground at all. + +So days and weeks and months went on, and brought with them the +conviction that the girl was lost for ever. Nothing was heard of her +either at Winstead or at Beechfield, and Hubert Lepel was obliged at +last to acknowledge that all his efforts had been in vain. The girl +refused to be benefited any longer; the wild blood in her veins had +asserted itself; she was probably leading the outcast life from which he +thought that he had rescued her; she had gone down on the tide of +poverty and vice and crime which floods the London streets. He shuddered +sometimes when he thought of it. He haunted the doors of theatres, the +courts and alleys of East London, looking sombrely for a face which he +would not have known if he had seen it. He fancied that Andrew +Westwood's daughter would bear her history in her eyes--the great dark +eyes that he remembered as her sole beauty when she was a child. + +It was a mad fancy, born of his desire to atone for a wrong that he had +done to an innocent man. The wrong seemed greater than ever when it +darkened the life of a weak young girl and tortured the heart of the +innocent man's own child. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Eight years had passed away since the tragedy that brought the little +village of Beechfield into luckless notoriety. During those eight years +what changes had taken place! Even at quiet rustic Beechfield many +things had come to pass. Old Mr. Rumbold had been gathered to his +fathers, and Mrs. Rumbold had gone to live with friends in London. The +new Rector was young, energetic, good-looking, and unmarried. At the +Hall there were changes too. Enid Vane had grown from a delicate child +into a lovely girl of seventeen. The house was no longer chill and +desolate--brightness seemed to have come back to it with her growth--a +brightness which even the General, saddened as he had been by his +brother's death, could not resist. He had taken his own way of +contributing to the cheerfulness of the Hall. Six months after Mrs. +Sydney Vane's death he had married Florence Lepel, as Miss Vane had +predicted that he would, and a little boy of five years old was now +running about the Hall gardens and calling the General "father." The old +man positively adored this little lad, and believed him to be +perfection. He was fond of Enid and of his wife, but he doated on the +child. He seemed indeed to love him more than did the mother of the boy. +Florence Lepel was not perhaps of a very loving disposition, but it was +remarkable that she apparently almost disliked little Dick. She never +petted or fondled the child--sometimes she rebuked him very angrily. And +yet he was docile, sweet-tempered, and quick-witted, though not +particularly handsome; but Florence had never liked children, and she +made her own son no exception to the rule. + +Eight years had changed Florence very little in outward appearance. She +was still pale, slender, graceful--languid in manner, slow in speech, +and given to the reading of French novels. But there were dark shades +beneath her velvety brown eyes, as if she suffered from ill-health. She +had taken to lying on a sofa a great deal; she did not visit much, and +she seldom allowed any festivity at the Hall. She remained in her +boudoir for the greater part of the day, with the rose-colored blinds +down, and the doors carefully closed and curtained to exclude any sound +of the outer world; and while she was up-stairs the General and his +niece Enid and the boy had the house to themselves, and enjoyed their +liberty extremely. In the afternoon Mrs. Vane would be found in her +drawing-room, ready for visitors; but she generally returned to her +boudoir for a rest before dinner, and steadily see her face against late +hours in the evening. Nobody knew what was the matter with her; some +people spoke vaguely of her "nerves," of the extreme delicacy and +sensitiveness of her organisation--some said that Beechfield did not +suit her, and others whispered that she had never been "quite right" +since her baby was born. At any rate, she was a semi-invalid; and she +did not seem to know what was the matter with her any more than did +other people. She sat in her luxurious lounging-chair, or lay on the +softest of sofas, day after day without complaint, always pale, silent, +graceful--an habitual smile, sweet and weary, upon her pinched lips, but +no smile in her eyes, where a fire sometimes glowed which seemed to be +burning her very life away. + +One balmy September afternoon she had established herself rather earlier +than usual in the drawing-room. A bright little fire burned in the +polished steel grate--for Florence was always chilly--but the windows +were open; a faint breeze from the terrace swept into the room and moved +the lace curtains gently to and fro. The blinds were half drawn down, so +that the room was not very light; the shadowed perfumed atmosphere was +grateful after the brightness of the autumn afternoon. + +Florence Vane sat in a low arm-chair near the fire. She had a small +table beside her, on which stood her dainty work-basket, half full of +colored silks, her embroidery patterns, a novel, a gold vinaigrette, and +a French fan. She had cushions at her back, a footstool for her feet, a +soft white shawl on her shoulders. It was very plain that she liked to +make herself comfortable. She wore a gown of pale blue silk embroidered +in silver--a most artistic garment, which suited her to perfection, and +which was as soft and luxurious as the rest of her surroundings. The +white cat which lay curled up on the rug at her feet could not have +looked more at her ease. + +In a chair opposite to her sat a man of rather more than thirty, who +looked thirty-five or even forty when the little light from the +curtained windows fell upon his dark face, and showed the gray threads +that were beginning to appear in his moustache. If he had been a woman, +he would have sat with his back to the window, as Florence was doing +now. But Hubert Lepel was not at all the man to think about his +appearance, or to regret the fact, if he did think about it, that he +looked more than his age. He had found it rather an advantage to him +during the last few years. + +Florence had not seen him for some time, and she commented silently and +acutely on the change in his appearance. He had a subtle face, she +thought--keen, stern, sardonic--too deeply furrowed for a man of his +years, too haggard to be exactly handsome, but certainly very +interesting, especially to the mind of a woman who had seen little of +the world. This was as it should be. She smiled to herself; she was a +born plotter, and she had a scheme for Hubert's benefit now. It was only +fair that he should partake of the good fortune that had fallen to her +lot. + +"It was kind of you to come," she was saying languidly, "for I know that +you don't care for Beechfield." + +"No," he said; "I prefer London on the whole." + +"And foreign travel. It is quite extraordinary to think how little you +have been in England for the last few years! I have not seen you +for--how long, Hubert?" + +"Three years, I believe." + +"And then only for an hour or two in London, at intervals of six months! +I hope that you are going to be a little more sociable now, and run down +to see us occasionally." + +The brother and sister looked at each other steadily for a moment +without speaking. Each knew well enough what was in the other's mind. + +"Yes," said Hubert at last, in a peculiarly light and careless voice, "I +think I shall." He crossed his legs, and settled himself into an easier +position in his chair. "Beechfield is not a bad place to stay at for a +few days--or even a few weeks--now and then. And you seem very +comfortable, Florence." + +"Yes," she said, "I am comfortable. The General is very kind." + +"And you have a fine boy--a nice little chap," said Hubert, still +lightly. + +"Yes; he is a healthy child," she answered, in the mechanical way in +which she had spoken before. + +Hubert gave her a keen glance. He looked at the long but not ungraceful +lines of her slender figure, at the blue veins which showed themselves +in the dead white of her hands, at the shade beneath her eyes, and +knitted his brows a trifle impatiently. Then he spoke in lowered tones +which betrayed some suppressed emotion. + +"You have gained all that you wanted," he said--"you ought to be +satisfied." + +She stirred a little in her chair, and allowed a faint smile to appear +upon her lips. + +"And you," she said, "are a very successful man. How many nights did +your last play run? You are popular; you have made money; you ought to +be satisfied too." + +Each knew that the other was not satisfied at all, each knew the cause +of that silent dissatisfaction with what life had to give. + +"I am satisfied," said the man grimly. + +It was the tone that said, "I will be satisfied in spite of fate! In +spite of my own actions, my own sin, my own remorse, I will be +satisfied!" + +"You have changed your note," said Florence, regarding him curiously. + +"And not too soon," he answered decisively. "There is nothing so useless +as sorrowing over the past and regretting what cannot be undone. Let me +recommend my philosophy of life to you. Make the best of what remains; +we cannot bring back what we have cast away." There was a new hardness +in his tone--not of recklessness, but of unflinching determination. He +rose and stood on the hearthrug, with his hands behind him as he spoke. +"I have taken a new departure. I have wasted many hours of the past. I +am resolved to waste not one hour in future. 'Though much is taken, much +remains,' as the poet says; and you and I, Florence, have all to look +for in the future and nothing in the past." + +"That is true," she said, in a very low tone. "Nothing in the past!" +Then she sat up, as if stirred to movement by his attitude, and looked +at him again. "What has caused this change of mind, Hubert? Have you +fallen in love?" + +He uttered a short laugh. + +"Not I--I don't know the sensation." + +"You knew it a few years ago, when I thought you would marry pretty Mary +Marsden." + +"She married a Jew money-lender," said Hubert drily. "I saw her the +other day--she weighs fourteen stone, I should think!" + +"Poor little Mary! It is not love then?" + +"No, it is not." He was silent a minute or two, pulling his moustache +with a quick nervous movement which betrayed some agitation of mind. +Then he said quickly, "I had better tell you something and get it over, +though I have no wish to rake up the memory of unpleasant subjects. I +heard a few months ago that the man Westwood was dead." + +"Dead? At Portland?" + +"Yes. An accident on the works where he was engaged. He died after a few +hours' unconsciousness." + +Florence meditated for a few moments and then said softly-- + +"I think that I now understand." + +"It will be better that we do not speak of the matter again," said +Hubert, in the masterful way which she was beginning to recognise as one +of his characteristics. "It is all over and done with; nothing we can +say or do will make any difference. The man is gone, and we are here. We +can begin a new life if we choose." + +His sister watched him with eyes which expressed a greater gloom than he +was able to understand. Her hands began to tremble as he said the last +few words. + +"You can--you can!" she cried, almost with vehemence. "But for me--there +is no new life for me!"--and covering her face with her hands, she began +to weep, not violently, but so that he saw the tears oozing from between +her slender fingers. + +Hubert stood aghast. Was this trembling woman the cold imperturbable +sister whom he had known of old? He had seldom seen Florence shed tears, +even in her youthful days. Was it the consciousness of her past guilt +that had changed her thus? + +He reflected that, according to all tradition, a woman's nature was more +sensitive and delicate than that of a man. Florence was weighed down +perhaps by that sense of remorse which he had well-nigh forgotten. He +had, as he had said, resolved to put the past behind him and to lead a +new life. She, a woman, with all a woman's weakness, found it a +difficult task to forgive herself the misery that she had caused; and +he, the only person who could understand and sympathise with her, who +might have strengthened her in her struggle against evil--for such he +considered must be the cause of her distress--he had neglected her, and +been perhaps a source of pain instead of encouragement. He should have +remembered that her guilt was surely not greater than his own. + +Softened by these thoughts, he bent down to place his hand on her +shoulder and to kiss her forehead. + +"My poor Flossy," he said, using the old pet name as he had used it for +many weary years, "you must not grieve now! Forget the past--we can but +leave it to Heaven. There is nothing--absolutely nothing now--that we +can do." + +"No," she said, letting her hands fall upon her lap and wearily +submitting to his kiss--"nothing for you--nothing at all for you--now." + +There was a deep meaning in her words to which he had not the slightest +clue. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Hubert Lepel had accepted his sister's invitation to Beechfield Hall for +two nights only; but, as he had given her to understand, he was quite +ready to come again, supposing of course that she made his visit +agreeable to him. So far--an hour and a half after his first arrival--it +had not been very agreeable. He had been obliged to allude to a matter +which was highly unpleasant to him, and he had had to stand by while his +sister burst into quite unnecessary and incomprehensible tears. He was +not so soft-hearted a man as he had been eight years ago, and he told +himself impatiently that he could not stand much more of this kind of +thing. + +For the last three years he had been, as Florence had said, almost +always out of England. When his search for Jane Wood proved a failure, +he had taken a strong dislike for a time to London life and London ways. +He had been making money by his literary work, and was well able to +afford himself a little recreation. He went to Egypt therefore, and to +India, took a look at China and Japan, and came home by way of South +America. He did not care to go too much in beaten tracks; and during his +absence he wrote a book or two which were fairly successful, and a play +which made a great sensation. He had come back to London now, and was at +work upon another play, on which great hopes had been founded. If it +were as successful as the first, there was every likelihood of his +becoming a rich man. He had got his head fairly above water, and meant +to keep it there; he conceived that he had brooded too long over the +past. + +He had seen little Dick Vane when he first arrived, and he had spent +nearly two hours with Florence; but he had not yet encountered the +General or the General's niece and adopted daughter, Enid Vane. The two +had gone out riding, and did not return until after five o'clock. + +"Just in time for tea!" said the General, in a tone of profound +satisfaction. "I thought that we were later. And how do you find +yourself, Hubert, my dear boy? Why, I declare I shouldn't have known +you! Should you, Enid? He is as brown as a Hindoo." + +"Would you have known me?" said Hubert, with a smile at the girl who had +followed her uncle into the room, and now gave him her hand by way of +greeting. The smile was forced in order to conceal a momentary twitch of +his features, which he could not quite control at the first sight of +Sydney Vane's daughter; but it looked natural enough. + +The girl raised her eyes to his face with a shy sweet smile. + +"I am afraid that I don't remember very well," she said; and Hubert +thought that he had never seen anything much prettier than her smile. + +She was seventeen, and looked so fair, so delicate, in her almost +childish loveliness of outline and expression, that Florence's white +skin became haggard and hard in comparison. Her slight figure was +displayed to full advantage by a well-made riding-habit, and under her +correct little high hat her golden hair shone like sunshine. There was a +soft color in her cheeks, a freshness on her smiling lips, that made the +observer long to kiss them, as if they belonged to some simple child. +Her manner too was almost that of a child--frank, naive, direct, and +unembarrassed; but in her eyes there lurked a shadow which contradicted +the innocent simplicity of her expressive countenance. If was not a +shadow of evil, but of sadness, of a subdued melancholy--the sadness of +a girl whose life had been darkened in early life by some undeserved +calamity. It was a look that redeemed her face from the charge of +inanimateness that might otherwise have been brought against it, and +gave it that faintly sombre touch which was especially fascinating to a +man like Hubert Lepel. + +He continued to talk to the General, who had questions to ask him +concerning his travels and his friends; but his eyes followed the +movements of the girl as she stepped quietly about the room, pouring out +tea for one, carrying cake and biscuits to another. Twice he sprang up +to assist her, but was met with a smile and a shake of the head from +her, and the assurance from her uncle that Enid liked waiting on +people--he need not try to take her vocation from her. He had to sit +down again, and thought, half against his will, of that other +Enid--Tennyson's Enid, in her faded gown--and of Prince Geraint's desire +to kiss the dainty thumb "that crossed the trencher as she set it down." +He at least was no Geraint, he said to himself, to win this gentle +maiden's heart. But he watched her nevertheless, with a growing +admiration which was not a little dangerous. + +With a faint cynical smile Florence noted the direction of his eyes. As +soon as her husband and his niece entered the room, she had lapsed into +the graceful indolent silence which seemed habitual to her. Enid brought +her a cup of tea, and ministered to her wants with assiduity and +gentleness of manner, though, as Hubert thought, with no great show of +affection; and Florence accepted the girl's attentions with perfect +equanimity and a caressing word of two of thanks. And yet Hubert +fancied--he knew not why--that there was no look of love in Flossy's +drooping eyes. + +"Please may I come in?" said Master Dick's small treble at the door. He +was a fair, blue-eyed little fellow, but not much like either his father +or his mother, thought Hubert, as the child stood in the doorway and +looked rather doubtfully into the room. + +Florence's brow contracted for a moment. + +"Why are you not having your nursery-tea?" she said. "We do not want you +here unless we send for you." + +"I want to see uncle Hubert," persisted the boy stolidly. + +Hubert held out his hand to him with a smile that children still found +winning. + +"Come in, little man," he said. "I want to see you too." + +Dick marched in at once, still, however, keeping an eye fixed upon his +mother. There was something almost like fear in the look; and it was +noticeable that neither the General nor Enid spoke to invite him into +the room. + +"You may come in," Florence said at last, very coldly--almost as one +might speak to a grown person whom one had strong reason to +dislike--"but you cannot stay more than five minutes. You are not wanted +here." + +"Oh, come, I think we all want him!" said Hubert good-humoredly. "I wish +to make my nephew's acquaintance, at any rate. I have something for him +in my portmanteau up-stairs." + +Florence made a sudden and, as it seemed, involuntary gesture, and +knocked down a vase of flowers on the table at her right hand. There was +some confusion in consequence, as the flowers had to be gathered up and +the fragments of the broken vase collected, so that Hubert had little +opportunity of talking to his nephew. And, as soon as "the fuss," as he +mentally called it, was over, Mrs. Vane said, in her coldest, slowest +voice-- + +"Now, Dick, you may go to the nursery. Say good-night." + +"Good-night?" questioned Hubert. "Why, he does not go to bed at this +hour in the afternoon, does he?" + +"He goes at half-past six or seven," replied Florence. "Pray do not +interfere with nursery regulations, my dear Hubert." + +"I shall see more of him to-morrow, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling at +the child's wistful face as he went from one to another to say +good-night. + +Little Dick's eyes lit up at once, but the light in them died out when, +on tip-toe, as if afraid of disturbing her, he approached his mother. +Hubert thought that there was a touch of something odd in the manner of +everyone present, and was glad to see that Enid's kisses and whispered +words of endearment brought a flush of pleasure to the child's delicate +cheeks before he turned away. + +The General then took possession of the visitor and marched him off to +look at the stables. The old man had recovered all his old cheeriness +and heartiness of manner; there was a little more feebleness in his gait +than there used to be, and he walked with a stick, but Hubert was +pleased to see that his eyes were bright, and to find him loquaciously +inclined. The shock of Sydney's death had not seriously affected him, +and Hubert was conscious of a thrill of relief at the sight of his +evident health and happiness. Considering that Mr. Lepel believed +himself to have closed his heart against the past, he was singularly +open to attacks of painful memory. He was annoyed by his own readiness +to be hurt, and almost wished that he had not come to Beechfield. + +He saw neither of the ladies again till dinner time, when he thought +that Enid looked even lovelier in her simple white frock than in her +riding-habit. He observed her a good deal at dinner, and made up his +mind that she was the very model of an ideal heroine--sweet, gentle, +pure-minded, intelligent--all that a fresh young English girl should be. +The type did not attract him greatly; but it was just as well to study +so perfect a specimen when he had one at hand; he wanted to introduce a +girl of this sort into his next novel, and he preferred portraiture to +mere invention. He would keep the novel in mind when he talked to her; +it would perhaps prevent any dwelling on unpleasant subjects--for, oh, +how like the girl's eyes were to those of her dear father! + +So he sat by the piano after dinner while Enid played dreamy melodies, +that soothed the General into slumber, and then he persuaded her to walk +with him in the moonlight on the terrace, and talked to her of his +strange adventures in foreign lands until the child thought that she had +never heard anything half so wonderful before. And, as they passed and +repassed the windows, they were watched by Florence Vane with eyes that +gleamed beneath her heavy eyelids, with the narrow intentness of the +emerald orbs belonging to her favorite white cat. She had never looked +more as if she were silently following some malevolent design, than when +she watched the couple on the terrace on that moonlit night. + +Enid very quickly made friends with Mr. Lepel--so quickly indeed that +she was led to confide some of her most private opinions to him before +he had been much more than twenty-four hours at Beechfield Hall. It was +anent little Dick and his mother that the first confidence took place. + +The whole party had been having tea under the great beech-tree on the +lawn, and after a time Enid and Hubert were left alone by the others. +They chatted gaily together, he answering her eager questions about +London and Paris and Berlin, she catechising him with an eagerness which +amused and interested him. Presently they saw Dick running towards them +across the lawn. A white figure at one of the windows on the terrace, a +call to the boy, and Dick's wild career was arrested. He stood still for +a moment, then turned slowly towards the house, breaking into a childish +wail of grief as he did so. Hubert stopped short in the sentence that he +was addressing to his young cousin, and looked after the boy. + +"What is the matter with the poor little chap?" he asked. + +Enid's eyes were fixed anxiously upon the window where the white figure +had appeared. + +"Florence called him," she said, in a very small voice. + +"And why should the fact of his mother's calling him make him cry?" + +"Florence thinks it best to be strict," said Enid, still with unnatural +firmness of manner. "He is running away from his nurse now, I know; and +I suppose he will be sent to bed directly after tea for doing so--as he +was yesterday." + +"Was he? Poor little beggar! Was that the reason why he looked so +miserable and you were all so solemn? What had he done?" + +"He came into the drawing-room without permission. He was let off very +easily because you were there, but I have known his mother punish him +severely for doing so." + +"But, good heavens," said Hubert, rising from his seat, and leaning +against the trunk of the beech-tree, while he looked down at Enid with +an expression of utter perplexity, "why on earth should the child have +so little freedom; and why should Florence be so hard on him? She must +be altered! She was never fond of children, but she was too indolent to +be severe. Was not that your experience of her when you were a child?" + +"Yes," said Enid, but too hesitatingly to give Hubert all the assurance +that he wished for--"yes; she did not take much trouble about what I +did. It is different with her own child." + +"Surely she loves her own child better than she loved other +children--better even than you!" said Hubert, with the soft intonation +that turned the words into a compliment. "It is natural in a mother." + +"One would think so," said the girl. Then, as if moved by a sudden +impulse, she spoke hurriedly, with her beautiful eyes full of tears. +"Oh, cousin Hubert"--it was thus that she had addressed him ever since +her babyhood--"do not think that I am unkind to Florence--I do not mean +it unkindly--but it does seem sometimes as if she really hated her +little boy! Poor little Dick has never known what it is to have a +mother's love. I am so sorry for him! I know what it is to be +motherless." Hubert averted his face, and gazed into the distance. "I +have lived many years without either father or mother," said the girl, +in a tone the simple pathos of which seemed to pierce her hearer's +heart, "but at any rate I remember what it was to have their love." + +She wondered why Hubert stood motionless and irresponsive; it was not +like him to be so silent when an appeal was made to his sympathy. She +colored rosy red, with the instinctive fear that she had gone too far, +had said something of which he did not approve, and she tried, in her +naive unconsciousness of ill, to put the matter straight. + +"But I have been very happy," she said earnestly. "Florence has always +been kind, and dear mamma herself could not have done more for me. It is +only that she seems cold and severe with Dick---- Dear cousin Hubert, I +hope you are not angry with me for saying what I have said about your +sister?" + +He was obliged to look at her when she addressed him thus directly. She +was surprised by the expression of pain--bitter humiliating pain--upon +his face. Was it sympathy for her loss, she wondered, or grief for +little Dick's position, or distress at her accusation of Florence that +caused his face to wear that look of positive anguish? She could not +tell. + +"Angry?" he said, stretching out his hand and laying it tenderly on her +own, while the pain in his eyes softened into a melancholy as +inscrutable as the pain. "Could I ever be angry with you, Enid? Poor +little lonely motherless child! Heaven knows, if I could protect you +from sorrow or pain henceforth, I would do so at the cost of my life!" + +He withdrew his hand and walked away somewhat abruptly, without once +looking round. Enid remained where he had left her, pale with emotion, +overpowered by a feeling that was neither joy nor fear, but which +partook of both. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Hubert felt that he had been betrayed into displaying an excess of +emotion very foreign to the character of the cynic and the worldling +which he was desirous to assume. Circumstances, he told himself, had +been too strong for him. Even at the price of not making a study for a +novel of poor little Enid's personality--and how could he ever seriously +have thought of such a thing?--he must not risk close intercourse with +her. Her innocent allusions to the past, her guileless confidence in +himself, wrung his heart with shame and dismay. When he left her, he +wandered away to the other side of the sheet of water in front of the +house, until he came to a small fir plantation on the side of the hill +which rose from the water's edge. He had not been there for years, and +yet he had not forgotten a single turning in the narrow pathway that ran +deviously between the fir-tree shrubs; the memory of the little open +glade in the centre of the tiny wood had never lost its terrible +distinctness. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see every +detail of the scene, every branch of the fir-trees against the darkening +sky, every rise or depression in the mossy ground. The very scent of the +woods gave him a sickening sensation; the crunch of a broken twig made +him turn pale with the horror of a quick remembrance. For it was in the +fir-wood that Sydney Vane had been found murdered--it was in the +fir-wood that Hubert Lepel had first felt that his hand was red with his +cousin's blood. + +He had not at first felt all the horror of his deed. He told himself +again and again that he had been justified in what he did. He had +punished a man for a base and craven act; he had challenged him and met +him in fair fight. By all the laws of honor he considered himself +justified. It was better that Marion Vane's heart should be broken by +her husband's death than by the news that he had deserted her. It was +better that Enid should think of her father as a saint and martyr, than +as a profligate whose hand no honest man or woman would care to hold. +Hubert Lepel sternly told himself that he had done good and not evil in +ridding the earth of a thoroughly bad man like Sydney Vane. If he might +have avowed the deed and its motive, he felt that he could almost have +gloried in it; but how to confess what he had done? At the first moment +of all he had refrained, in terrible fear of implicating Florence, not +knowing how far she would be mistress of herself; then, when he saw that +she was well able to defend her own reputation and that he might confess +the truth without bringing in her name at all--why, then he hesitated, +and found that his courage had deserted him. Florence entreated him to +conceal his act. He remembered that Sydney Vane had almost forced him to +use weapons--a course which Hubert himself would never have suggested; +and it was fatally easy to let things take their course. He hoped, in +his youthful ignorance of the laws of circumstantial evidence, that the +jury would bring in a verdict of suicide. When this hope was destroyed, +he still thought that the matter would be left a mystery--so many +mysteries were never cleared up at all! He did not think that any one +else could possibly be suspected. He was horrified when suspicion fell +upon Andrew Westwood, a poacher who had been vowing vengeance on Sydney +Vane for the past three months. + +To the very end of the trial he hoped that Westwood would be acquitted. +When he had been condemned, Hubert vowed to himself that at any rate no +man should suffer death in his place. If no reprieve could be obtained, +no commutation of the sentence, he would speak out and set Andrew +Westwood free. The message of mercy came only just in time. He was on +the very point of delivering himself up to justice when news arrived +that Westwood's death sentence had been commuted to one of imprisonment +for life. Did that make things any better? Hubert thought that it did. +And his heart failed him--he could not bear the thought of public +disgrace, condemnation, punishment. He knew himself to be a coward and a +villain, and yet he could not bring himself to tell the truth. When Miss +Vane accused him of heartlessness because he explained his pallor by +saying that he had spent the previous evening with friends, he was in +reality suffering from the depression consequent on several nights of +sleepless agony of mind. He was not silent for his own sake alone. He +was afraid of implicating Flossy, the woman to whom Sydney Vane had +proposed love, and about whom he had quarrelled with her brother. It was +Flossy's share in the matter that sealed his lips; and from the moment +of his conversation with Florence at the library window his mind was +made up. He had gone too far to draw back--Andrew Westwood must bear his +fate. Lifelong imprisonment scarcely seemed more terrible to Hubert +Lepel just then than the life sentence of remorse which he had brought +on his own head. + +Since those days his heart had grown harder. He had resolved to +forget--to fight down the secret consciousness of guilt which pursued +him night and day--to live his own life, in spite of the haunting sense +that he had sacrificed all that was good and noble in himself, all that +really made life worth having. He was striving hard, as he said to +Florence, to cast the past behind him, to live as if he were what he had +been before he bore about with him the shadow of a crime. + +But, in the very first endeavor which Hubert Lepel made to act as if the +past were done away with, he was brought face to face with it again, and +made to feel as he had seldom felt before, that he had wronged not only +those who were dead, but those who were living--for he had let Florence +become the wife of a man, the mother of a child, whom she did not love, +and he had left the girl whom his own hand had made fatherless to +Florence's care. As to Westwood's child, she was in a worse case than +Enid Vane, for she was not only orphaned but homeless perhaps, and lost +to all that was good and pure. + +He thought of this as he stood in the fir-wood, surveying the scene +where the suddenly-improvised duel had taken place; and, as the memory +of it grew upon him, he cast himself down on the mossy ground and sobbed +aloud. He had not shed a tear for years, and such as came now were few +and painful and bitter as gall; but they would not be repressed. It was +strange, even to himself, that he should be so beaten down by a little +thing--a child's simple words about her mother, a moment's loneliness in +the wood where her father had met his death. The world would not have +recognised him, the cold, subtle, polished, keen-witted _flâneur_, the +witty man of letters, critic, traveller, playwright, novelist, all in +one, in that crushed figure beneath the firs, with head bowed down, +hands clutched in agony, muscular frame shaken by the violence of +convulsive sobs. The convicted sinner, the penitent, had nothing in +common with Hubert Lepel, as known to the world at large. + +Presently he came to himself a little and sat up, with his hands clasped +round his knees. Some strange thoughts visited him in those quiet +moments. What if he gave up the attempt to brave life out? What if he +acknowledged the truth and cleared poor Westwood's name? England would +ring from end to end with horror at his baseness. What of that if, by +confessing, he could lay to rest the terrors that at time took a hold of +his guilty soul--terrors, not of death, nor of what comes after +death--terrors of life and of the doom of baseness reserved for the soul +that will be base, the gradual declension of heart and mind for the man +who said, "Evil be thou my good?" He was not one who could bear as yet +to think of moral death without a shiver. He had fallen, he had sinned; +but, for his misery and his punishment, his soul was not yet dead. What +then if he should give himself up to justice after all? It seemed to +him, in that moment of solitude, that only by so doing could he regain +the freedom of mind, the peace of conscience which he had now forfeited, +perhaps for evermore. + +He sat thinking of the possibilities of life opening out before him, and +decided that he could give them up without a pang. But there were +persons to be thought of beside himself. To his relatives, to the +relatives of the murdered man, the discovery of the truth would be a +terrible shock. There was no person--except that missing girl, of whom +he dared scarcely think--who could benefit by the clearing of Andrew +Westwood's name. The only gain that would accrue from his confession +would be, he considered, a subjective gain to himself. Abstract justice +would be done, no doubt, and Westwood's character would be cleared; but +that was all. He ought to have spoken earlier if he meant to do good by +speaking. Confession, he said to himself would be self-indulgence now. + +Hubert Lepel was wonderfully well versed, in subtle turns of +argument--in casuistry of the abstruser kind. It was long since he had +looked truth full in the face or drawn a sharp boundary-line between +right and wrong. Not easy to him was it to get back from the varying +lights and shadows of self-deception to the radiant sunshine of truth. +With bitter remorse in his heart and a strangely passionate wish to +do--now at least--the right, he yet decided to bear the burden of +silence until his dying day--to say no word, to do no act, that should +ever revive in others' minds the memory of the Beechfield tragedy. He +was not naturally callous, and he knew that concealment of the truth +would be, as it had always been, an oppression, a weary weight upon him; +but he had made up his mind that it must be so. + +"Moralists tell us never to do evil that good may come," he murmured to +himself, with head bowed upon his knees; "but surely in this case, when +it is not--not altogether my own good that I seek, a little evil may be +pardoned, a little wrong condoned! Heaven forgive me! If I have sinned, +I think that I have suffered too!" + +He lifted up his head at last, and saw the red light of sunset burning +between the upright stems of the fir-trees, stealing with strange +crimson tints amongst the yellowing bracken and umber drift of +pine-needles, scarcely touching, however, the black shades of the +foliage overhead. With a sudden shiver Hubert rose to his feet. It +seemed to him that the red light looked like blood. He turned hastily to +go; he had lingered too long, had excited his own emotions too keenly. +He resolved that he would never visit the lonely fir-wood again. He +wondered why it had stood so long. If he had been the General, he would +have had the trees hewn down after the trial, and done away with every +memento of the place. + +When he escaped from the shadow of the wood, and saw the red sun setting +behind the hills, sending long level beams over the tranquil meadows, +and bathing field and grove and highway-road alike in ruddy golden +light, he drew a long breath of relief. And yet he felt that he was not +quite the same man that had entered the wood an hour before. The +foundations of his soul had been shaken; he had made a resolve; he +looked at life from a new standpoint. The half-defiant determination to +make the best of the future which he had announced to his sister was +purged of its defiance. He would make the best of his future--yes. But +for this purpose he would injure no man or woman henceforward; he would +work with less selfishness of aim--for the good of the world at large as +well as for himself. Something seemed broken in him by that lonely hour +in the wood--some hardness, some coldness of temper was swept away. To +him perhaps Tennyson's words respecting Lancelot were applicable still-- + + "So groaned Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain, + Not knowing he should die a holy man." + +Far enough from anything like holiness was Hubert Lepel, but a nobler +life was possible to him yet. + +Florence commented that evening on his pale and wearied countenance, but +he smiled at her questions, and would not allow that anything ailed him. +He sat by her side for the greater part of the evening. It was as well, +he thought, to be chary of Enid's companionship. She was so sweet, so +frank, that she beguiled him into imprudent frankness in return. He +would not sit beside her at the piano therefore, or walk with her upon +the terrace, although she looked prettier than ever, with a new wistful +light in her blue eyes, a rose-flush upon her delicate cheeks. He knew +that she was disappointed when he did not come; no matter--the child +must not look on him as anything but a casual acquaintance who had +spoken a few rash words of compliment which it were idle to take too +seriously; and he would stay with Florence. + +"Enid looks well to-night," said his sister, in her soft careless tones. +"She is a pretty little thing when in good health." + +"Is she delicate?" Hubert asked, in some surprise. + +"She has nervous attacks; she has had them at intervals ever since she +was nine years old." Nine years old--the date of her father's death!--as +Hubert knew. "At first we thought they were of an epileptic kind; but +the doctors say that they are purely nervous, and will cease when she is +older and stronger." + +Hubert inquired no further. The subject was disagreeable to him, +inasmuch as it connected Enid's health with her parent's fate and his +sister's disastrous influence upon the family. It was always a matter of +keen regret to him that he had not been able to hinder Florence's +marriage, which she had prudently made a matter of secrecy until it was +too late for the General's friends to interfere. Her calm appropriation +of the position which she had secured, and, above all, the +pseudo-maternal way in which she spoke of Enid, irritated Hubert almost +beyond endurance. + +He went back to London on the following day, promising to return to +Beechfield Hall before long. For some reason or other he felt eager to +get away--the air of the place seemed to excite his sensibilities +unduly, he told himself. It struck him afterwards that Enid looked very +pale and downcast when she bade him good-bye. He took his leave of her +hurriedly, feeling as if he did not like to look her full in the face. +He was afraid, that if he looked, he would be only too sure of what he +guessed--that her eyes were full of tears. He was almost glad that a +speedy return to London was incumbent upon him. He had next day to +superintend the rehearsal of his new play, which was shortly to be +produced at one of the smaller theatres; and as soon as he reached his +apartments he was immersed in business of every kind. + +The next morning's rehearsal was followed by luncheon with friends, and +attendance at a _matinée_ given for the benefit of the widow and +children of an actor--a performance at which Hubert thought it well to +be present, although he invariably bemoaned the loss of time. The piece +was not over until six o'clock, and he amused himself afterwards by +going behind the scenes, and chatting with some of his acquaintances +among actors, actresses, managers, and critics. Thus it was nearly seven +before he issued from the theatre, in a street off the Strand, and the +day was already drawing to a close. The lamps were lighted and a fog was +gathering, through which their beams assumed a yellow and unnatural +intensity. Hubert stood on the edge of the pavement, leisurely drawing +on his gloves and looking out for a hansom, contrasting meanwhile the +glories of the Strand with those of the autumn woods in Hampshire, when +his attention was arrested by the sound of a woman's voice. + +"If you please, Mr. Lepel, may I speak to you?" + +He turned round hastily, and, after a moment's hesitation, recognised +the girl who had addressed him as a young actress whom he had lately +come to know. She had been playing a very small part in the comedy +which he had just seen. He vaguely remembered having heard her +name--she was known on the bills as Miss Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Hubert raised his hat courteously. + +"Good evening, Miss West. Of course you may speak to me!" he said. "Can +I do anything for you?" + +"Yes," answered the girl with a quickness which sounded abrupt, but +which, as could easily be seen, was born of shyness and not of +incivility. "You can get me an engagement if you like, Mr. Lepel; and I +wish you would." + +Hubert laughed, not thinking that she was in earnest, and surveyed her +critically. + +"You will not have much difficulty in getting one for yourself, I should +think," he said. + +Miss West colored and drew back rather haughtily. It was evident that +she did not like remarks of a personal bearing, although Mr. Lepel had +spoken only as he would have thought himself licensed to speak to girls +of her profession, who are generally open to such compliments--and +indeed she was not very likely to escape compliments. As he looked at +her in the light of the gas-lamps before the theatre, Hubert Lepel +became gradually aware that there stood before him one of the most +beautiful women he had ever seen. + +She was tall--nearly as tall as himself--but so finely proportioned that +she gave the impression of less height than she really possessed. Every +movement of her lithe limbs was full of grace; she was slender without +being thin, and lissom as an untrained beautiful creature of the woods. +In after-days, when Hubert knew her better, he used to compare her to a +young panther for grace and freedom of motion. It was a pleasure to +watch her walk, although her step was longer and freer than to Enid +Vane's teachers would have seemed desirable. Her features were perfectly +cut; the broad forehead, the straight nose, the curved lips and +slightly-puckered chin were of the type recognised as purely Greek, and +the complexion and eyes accompanying these features were rich in the +coloring that glows upon the canvases of Murillo and Velasquez. The skin +was of a creamy brown, heightened by a carmine tint in the oval cheeks; +the eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, with long black lashes and +well-defined black brows. It seemed somehow to Hubert as if those eyes +were familiar to him, but he could not recollect how or why. For the +rest, Miss Cynthia West was a very well-dressed, stylish-looking young +woman, neither fast nor shabby in her mode of attire; and the things +that she wore served--intentionally or not--to set off her good looks to +the best advantage. Hubert had seen her several times off and on the +stage during the past few weeks since his return to England; she took +none but minor parts, but was so remarkably handsome that she had begun +to attract remark. He was a little surprised by her speech to him, and +hardly thought she could be in earnest. In fact, he suspected her of a +mere desire to attract his attention. + +"I thought you were at the Frivolity?" he said. + +"I have left the Frivolity," she answered abruptly. "This afternoon's +engagement is the only one I have had for a fortnight; and I have +nothing in prospect." + +He gave her a keener look, and in spite of her brave bearing and her +dainty clothes, he thought he perceived a slight pinching of the +delicate features, a dark shade beneath the eyes which--if he remembered +rightly--had not been there two months before. Was it possible that the +girl was really in want? Could he put his hand into his pocket and offer +her money? He might make the attempt at any rate. + +"Can I be of any use to you--in this way?" he began, inserting two +fingers into his waistcoat-pocket in a sufficiently significant manner. + +He was aware of his mistake the next moment. An indignant flush spread +over the girl's whole face; her eyes expressed such hurt surprise that +Mr. Lepel felt rather ashamed of his suggestion. + +"I did not ask you for money," said Miss West; "I asked if you could get +me something to do." Then she turned away with a gesture which Hubert +took for one of mere petulance, though the feeling that actuated it +bordered more nearly on despair. "Oh," she said with a quick nervous +irritation audible in her tone, "I thought that you would +understand!"--and her beautiful dark eyes swam in tears. + +They were still standing on the pavement, and at that moment two or +three passers-by shouldered Hubert somewhat roughly, and stared at the +girl to whom he was speaking. Hubert placed himself at her side. + +"Come," he said--"Walk on a few paces with me, and make me understand +what you want when we get to a quieter spot." + +She bowed her head; it was evident that if she had spoken the tears +would have fallen from her eyes. Hubert turned up the comparatively dark +and quiet street in which stood the theatre that he had just visited; +but for a few minutes he did not speak. At last he said in the soothing +voice which was sometimes thought to be his greatest charm-- + +"Now will you make me understand? I beg your pardon for having offended +you by my offer of help; I meant it in all kindness. You have not an +engagement just now, you say?" + +"It is not easy to get one," said the girl, with a quiver in her proud +young voice. "It is not a good time, you know. I had two or three offers +of engagements with provincial companies this autumn, but I refused them +all because I had this one at the Frivolity. They were to give me two +pounds a week; and it was considered a very good engagement. Besides, it +was a London engagement, which I thought it better to take while I had +the chance. But I have lost it now, and I don't know what to do." + +"You know the first question one naturally feels inclined to put to you, +Miss West, is, why did you leave the Frivolity?" + +"I can't tell you the real reason," said the girl sharply. The color in +her face seemed now to be concentrated in two flaming spots in her +cheeks; her mouth was set, and her brow contracted over the brilliant +eyes. "I quarrelled with the manager--that was all." + +"Let me see--the manager is Ferguson, is he not? I know him." + +"But he is not a friend of yours?" said Cynthia, turning towards him +with a look of sudden dismay. + +"Certainly not! He is the most confirmed liar I ever met," Hubert +answered without a smile. + +But he was a little curious in his own mind. From what he knew of +Ferguson, he supposed it likely that the man had been making love to the +young actress, that she had refused to listen to him, and that he had +therefore dismissed her from the troupe. Such things had happened +before, he knew, during Mr. Ferguson's reign; and the Frivolity did not +bear the very best character in the world. With a girl of Cynthia West's +remarkable beauty, it was pretty easy to guess the story, although the +girl in her innocence thought that she was concealing it completely. + +"He said that I was careless," Cynthia went on rapidly. "He changed the +hour for rehearsal twice, and let everybody know but me; then I was +fined, of course; and I complained, and then he said I had better go." + +"What made you come to me?" said Hubert. "I am not a manager, you know." + +"You have a great deal of influence," she said, rather more shyly than +she had spoken hitherto. + +"Very little indeed. Other people have much more. Why did you not try +Gurney or Thomson or Macalister?"--mentioning names well known in the +theatrical world. + +"Oh, Mr. Lepel," said the girl, almost in a whisper, "you will think me +so foolish if I tell you!" + +"No, I sha'n't. Do tell me why!" + +"Well"--still in a whisper--"it was because I read a story, that you had +written--a tale about a girl called Amy Maitland--do you remember?" + +"I ought to remember," said Hubert thoughtfully, "because I know I wrote +it; but an author does not always recall his old stories very +accurately, Miss West. It was a short tale for a Christmas number, I +know. What was there in it that could cause you to honor me in this way, +I wonder?" + +"Ah, don't laugh at me, please, Mr. Lepel!" Cynthia's voice was so sweet +in its entreating tones that Hubert thought he had never heard anything +more musical. "It was all about a girl who was poor like me, and whose +parents were dead, and about her adventures, you know--particularly +about her not being able to get any work to do, and nearly throwing +herself into the river. I have had the thought more than once lately +that it would end with me in that way--the river looks so deep and +silent and mysterious--doesn't it? But that's all nonsense, I suppose! +However, when I read about Amy in the old Christmas number, that my +landlady lent me the other night, it came to my mind that I had seen you +behind the scenes, and that, if you could write in that way, you might +be more ready--ready to help----" She stopped short, a little breathless +after her long and tremulous speech. + +"My poor child," said Hubert, with the tender accent that showed that he +was moved, "I am afraid it does not always follow. However, let us take +the most cheerful view possible of all things, even of novelists, and +try to believe that they practise what they preach. It would be hard if +I did not prove worthy of your confidence, Miss West. I am sure I don't +know whether I will be able to do anything for you or not, but I will +see." + +"Thank you, Mr. Lepel." + +She said the words very low, and drew a quick breath of relief as she +said them. By the light of a gas-lamp under which they were passing at +the moment Hubert saw that she had turned very pale. He halted suddenly. + +"I am very thoughtless," he said, "not to recollect that you must be +tired, and that I am perhaps taking you out of your way." + +"No," said Cynthia simply; "I always go this way. I lodge at a +boarding-house in the Euston Road." + +"Then let us to business at once!" exclaimed Mr. Lepel, in a cheerful +tone. "What sort of engagement do you want, Miss West?" + +She was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, with some unusual +timidity of manner-- + +"I should very much like to have an engagement at a place where I could +sing." + +"Sing!" repeated Hubert, arching his brows a little. "Can you sing? Have +you a voice?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia. + +The audacity of the assertion took away Hubert's breath. He looked at +her pityingly. + +"My dear Miss West, are you aware that singing is a profession in +itself, and requires a professional training, like other things?" + +"Yes. But I can sing," said the girl decidedly. + +"Where did you learn?" + +"At school, and then of an old music-master in the boarding-house where +I am living." + +If he had not been afraid of wounding her feelings, Hubert would have +shrugged his shoulders. They were again standing on the pavement, face +to face, and he refrained from the scornful gesture. + +"Well," he said, after a short pause, "if you think so, there is nothing +to do but to try you. I must hear you sing, Miss West, before I can say +anything about a musical engagement. Shall I come and see you +to-morrow?" + +"Oh, no!" said Cynthia, with such transparent horror at the suggestion +that Mr. Lepel was very much amused. "We have no piano, and I am sure +that Mrs. Wadsley would not like it." + +"Then will you come to my rooms at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning?" + +"Thank you. Oh, Mr. Lepel, I am so very, very much obliged to you!" + +"I have done nothing yet to merit thanks, Miss West. I shall be only +glad if I can be the means of assisting a fellow-artist out of a +difficulty." He saw that the words brought a bright glow of gratified +feeling to the girl's face. "Here is my card; my rooms are not very far +off, you see--in Russell square." + +Cynthia took the card and thanked him again so warmly that Hubert +assured her that he was already overpaid. They had reached the broad +torrent of life that rolls down New Oxford street, and further +conversation became almost impossible. Hubert bent his head to say-- + +"Shall I put you into a cab now, or may I see you home?" + +"Neither, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "I am quite well used +to going about alone; and it is a very little way. Good night; and I am +so much obliged to you!" + +"Let me see you over this crossing, at any rate," said Hubert. + +She was too quick for him; she had already plunged into the tide, and he +saw her the next moment halting on the central resting-place of the +broad thoroughfare. He attempted to follow, but was too late, and had to +wait a moment or two for a couple of heavy carts. When the road was +clear again, he saw that she had safely reached the other side; and, as +soon as he had crossed, he dimly perceived her graceful figure some +distance ahead on the sombre pavements of Bedford square. His impulse +was to overtake her, but after a few rapid strides he abandoned the +intention. The girl was safe enough at that early hour; no doubt she was +accustomed, as she said, to take care of herself. No need to launch into +a romantic episode--to walk behind her, keeping watch and ward, as if +she were likely to encounter terrible danger on the way. And yet, for +some reason or another, he continued to walk--slowly now--in the +direction which Cynthia West had taken. + +It was quite out of his own way to go all along Gower street and +eastward down the Euston Road, yet that was what he did. He saw the tall +slight figure stop at an iron gate, push it open, and walk up the +flagged pavement to the door of a dingy but highly respectable-looking +house. The Euston Road is a neighborhood not greatly affected by people +of fastidious taste; and Hubert wondered, with a shrug of the shoulders, +why Miss West had found a lodging in the very midst of its ceaseless +maddening roar. He passed the house with a slow step, and as he did so +he read an inscription on the brass plate which adorned the gate by +which Cynthia had entered-- + + "MRS. WADSLEY. + "Select Boarding-House for Ladies and Gentlemen. + "Moderate Terms." + +"Very moderate and very select, no doubt," thought Hubert cynically. +"Now is that girl making a fool of me, or is she not? All those pretty +airs might so easily be put on by a clever actress. I shall find her out +to-morrow. She can act a little--I know that; but, if she can't sing, +after what she has said, she may go to Jericho for me! And, if she does +not come at all, why, then I shall know that she is an arrant little +impostor, and that I am a confounded fool!" + +"He stopped to light a cigar under a lamp-post, and a slight smile +played over his features as he struck the match. + +"She's a beautiful girl," he said to himself; "if she does turn out an +impostor, I shall be rather sorry. But, by Jove, I don't believe she +will!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +"Shall I take off my hat before I sing?" said Miss West calmly. + +She was in Hubert's sitting-room. Mr. Lepel had the drawing-room floor +of a large and fine old house in Russell square--a floor which contained +two drawing-rooms opening out of each other, a bed and bath-room, and a +small den, generally called a smoking-room, although its master's pipes +and cigars were to be found in all corners of the apartments. Hubert had +partially furnished the rooms for himself, and thus done away with the +bare and ungarnished appearance usually characteristic of a London +lodging. + +Miss West glanced around the room on her first entry with some +astonishment largely commingled with admiration. The mixture of luxury +and disorder which met her eyes might have surprised even persons more +conversant with the world than Cynthia West. The golden-brown plush +curtains between the rooms were half pushed back, and showed that the +back-room had been turned into a library. Shelves crowded with books, +tables heaped with them, a great writing-table and a _secrétaire_ showed +that Mr. Lepel used the room for what might be called "professional" +purposes. But in the front drawing-room there had been attempts--and not +unsuccessful attempts--at more artistic decoration. The curtains were of +exquisite brocade, some charming etchings adorned the walls, great +porcelain bowls of flowers had been placed on the oddly-shaped little +tables that stood about the room. A pianette had been pulled out from +the wall, and an Algerian shawl glistening with gold was loosely thrown +over its back. Other articles of decoration were suggestive of foreign +travel. A collection of murderous-looking weapons had been fastened on +the wall between the two windows, some Eastern embroideries were thrown +here and there over the furniture, and an inlaid mother-o'-pearl stool, +an enormous narghileh, and some Japanese kakemonos gave the room quite +an outlandish air. In spite of its oddness, there was a brightness and +pleasantness about the place, due to the gay tints of the Oriental +stuffs, and the hue and fragrance of the flowers with which pots and +bowls and vases were plentifully filled. + +"Yes, take off your hat and cloak, please," said Hubert, "if you do not +mind the trouble." + +"It is no trouble at all; I can sing much better without my outdoor +things," replied the girl promptly. + +She took off her little black-and-white hat and her neat little jacket, +and displayed herself in a closely-fitting black gown which suited her +admirably, in spite of its plainness. There was no touch of color or +sign of ornament; a rim of white collar around the neck and white cuffs +at her wrists gave the only relief to the gown's sombre hue. And yet, +with the vivid beauty of her face above the plain dark garment, it +seemed as if she could not have found a garb that was more absolutely +becoming. She stood beside the little piano for a moment with a roll of +music in her hand, and looked at Hubert questioningly. + +"Shall I play my own accompaniment?" she asked. + +"I never thought of that; I could have judged better of your voice if we +had had an accompanist," said her host. "I could play for you myself if +you liked." + +"No; I will do it," said Cynthia decidedly, "Go to the other end of the +room, will you, please, Mr. Lepel? You will hear me better there." + +There was a pretty air of command about her which amused Mr. Lepel. This +young woman, he reflected, as he took up the position which she had +recommended, was not one who would be contented with a secondary +position anywhere. She evidently considered herself born to rule. Well, +he would do her bidding; he had no objection to the rule of a pretty +woman! He was not disposed to take Miss Cynthia West and her singing +very seriously--as yet. + +Cynthia seated herself at the piano, while Hubert flung himself into an +easy-chair at the farther end of the room, and crossed his arms behind +his head in an attitude of attention and endurance, which showed that he +was not expecting much and was prepared to bear the worst. For the +singing of an average girl of eighteen or nineteen, with an ambition to +appear on a public stage, is apt to be trying to the sensibilities of +the true music-lover; and Hubert Lepel was no mean critic of the art. + +Cynthia played a few opening bars, and then began to sing a popular +ballad of the day. When she had finished it, she did not look round, but +went on fingering the notes, gliding gradually into another key. Then +suddenly she broke out into a fine old Italian aria, which she sang with +much fire and expression, availing herself of every opportunity of +_fioriture_ and _cadenza_ afforded by the song. And thence, with only a +few bars of symphony between, she launched herself upon one of +Schubert's most passionate love-songs, and sang it in a style which +brought the listener to his feet at its close in a musical rapture that +almost defied expression. + +"Why, good heavens," cried Hubert, with something not unlike a gasp, +"who on earth taught you to sing like that? And your voice--do you know, +Miss West, that your voice is simply magnificent?" + +Cynthia kept her head down, and continued to finger the notes--mutely +this time. + +"I have been told that I might be able to sing at private concerts," she +said demurely. + +"Private concerts! You might sing at Her Majesty's or Covent +Garden--with a little more training perhaps," said Hubert, trying to be +cautious, but failing to hide the satisfaction which shone out of his +eyes as he approached the piano. "Why have you never sung to any +manager? At least you may have done so, but I never heard a word of it; +and a voice like yours would be talked about; you know." + +"I suppose it was old Lalli's fault," said Cynthia carelessly. "He +always impressed upon me that I could not sing a bit, and that I must +wait for years and years before I dare open my mouth in public." + +"And who is old Lalli?" asked Hubert, gathering up her music and +beginning to turn it over. + +Cynthia crossed her white hands and looked down, a shadow flitting +across her mobile face. + +"He is dead," she said softly. "He was a very kind old friend. He lodged +in the house where I am lodging now. As long as he lived I always had +somebody to advise me--somebody to depend on." + +Her voice faltered a little. Some moisture was visible on the long dark +eyelashes as they hung over the fresh young cheeks. Hubert thought again +that he had never seen a woman half so beautiful. The touch of emotion +softened her loveliness--made it more human, more appealing. His tone +was less light, but more simply friendly, when he addressed her again. + +"Was he a musician?" + +"He was a violinist in the Frivolity orchestra. He had been a singer +once, I believe; at any rate, he knew a great deal about singing, and he +used to give me lessons. He used to tear his hair, and frown and stamp a +great deal," said Cynthia, smiling tenderly; "but he was kind, and I +loved him very much." + +"You met with him at the boarding-house where you live, I suppose?" said +Hubert carelessly. + +Cynthia gave him a sudden glance. The color came into her face. + +"No," she said slowly; "he took me there." She raised her right hand and +struck a few soft notes with it before she resumed her speech. "You +would like to know how it was perhaps?" She made long pauses between her +sentences, as if she were considering what to say and what to leave +unsaid. "I came to London about four years ago, in great trouble. I had +lost all my friends--not because I had done anything wrong, because +of--other things. I wanted to get something to do in a shop or as a +servant-girl--I did not care what. I tried all day, but nobody would +give me work. I slept in the Park at night. Next day I began to search +all over again, and again it was of no use. I had no money; I was very +hungry and tired. I sat down on a step and cried, and at last some one +said to me, 'What is the matter, my poor child?' And I looked up, +frightened, and saw an old man with a long gray beard and very dark eyes +and a kind face stooping over me. That was Signor Guido Lalli, of the +Frivolity." + +"I remember him in the band quite well," said Hubert. "He had a good +face." + +"Had he not?" exclaimed the girl, with sudden passion. "He was the +kindest, wisest, best man I ever knew! I could not help trusting him, he +looked so good. He made me tell him all about myself, and then he took +me with him to the boarding-house in Euston Road where he lived, and +said that he would be responsible to the landlady for me until I got +something to do. And Mrs. Wadsley was so fond of him that she took me on +trust for his sake. I don't believe she ever suspected how little he +really knew about me. And next day he took me to some friends of his, +and between them they got me a little engagement at a theatre; and then +I had a small speaking part, and so on--you know as well as I do how +young actresses go from step to step--so that I was able to support +myself after a time, and be no longer a burden upon him." + +"And would he not let you sing?" + +"No; he gave me lessons every day, and made me practise a long time; but +I had to promise him that I would not sing to anybody but himself +unless--unless I were obliged. I used to be angry about it; but he was +so good to me that I always gave in to him in the end. I fancy now that +he had a purpose in it all. When I was sufficiently trained, he wanted +to take me to Mapleson or some other great _impresario_, and get him to +bring me out in opera." + +"Very likely. But you say he died?" + +"Yes," said the girl, with a sigh, "he died--suddenly too, so that he +did not even say good-bye. He was found dead one morning in his bed. +Since then I have been all alone in the world; and I think Mr. Ferguson +knew it, and wanted to take advantage of my position." + +"No doubt of it." + +"So then, as I had no engagement at the theatre, I thought I would see +whether my voice would do anything for me. And, as I told you last +night, I made up my mind to speak to you." + +Hubert had stood with his arms on the piano, looking gravely down on the +girl's bent face as she told her story. As she paused, she raised her +head, and her great dark eyes looked straight into his with an +expression of mute appeal which stirred his feelings strangely. It moved +him so much that he was forced to take down his arms and turn aside from +the piano for a moment or two; he scarcely wanted her to see how deeply +he was touched. He soon came back to her side, however, and said-- + +"If I had refused to listen to you, what would you have done?" + +"I don't know," she answered meditatively. + +"You would have gone to some manager--some celebrated _impresario_?" + +"And been snubbed and repulsed by one and all!" said, Cynthia, with +sudden passion. + +She rose from the music-stool and stood facing him; he saw her bosom +rise and fall, he marked the varying color in her cheeks, the light and +shadow in her troubled eyes, as she poured out the impetuous words with +which her heart was charged. + +"I could not have borne it! I do not know how to put up with insult and +contempt. I feel that I hate all the world when it treats me in that +way. I never could be meek and good like other girls. I don't mean that +I want to be wicked--I hope I am not wicked--but, if you had failed me, +I think that I should have gone straight away to London Bridge and +thrown myself into the river--for I should have had no hope left." + +"My dear girl," said Hubert, rather gravely, "with that voice of yours +you would have been very wrong to feel so easily discouraged." + +"Oh, what would the voice matter if I could get nobody to listen to it?" +cried Cynthia, with fiery scorn. "I may have a fortune in my voice, but +how will the fortune benefit me if I can't have it for the next five or +ten years, and am starving in the meantime? I could not have stayed more +than a few days at Mrs. Wadsley's, as I had no money, and was not likely +to earn any. If I was turned out, where was I to go? It is winter now, +not summer, as it was when I slept in the Park four years ago, and dear +old Lalli found me crying on the steps. A night out of doors in this +weather would not leave me much voice to sing with, I fancy! No; I had +made up my mind, Mr. Lepel--if you would not listen to me, I would go to +London Bridge. If you think me wicked, I can't help it; it was my last +resource." + +With her cheeks flaming, her eyes gleaming beneath her black brows, it +was plain that she was dominated by passion of no common strength, by +will and pride which made it well-nigh impossible for her to lead an +ordinary woman's life. Hubert looked at her, stupefied, fascinated by +her beauty; he was penetrated by an admiration that he had never felt +for a woman in all his life before. And she was a mere girl yet! He knew +that she would be ten times more beautiful in a few years' time. + +"You were right to come to me," he murmured, scarcely knowing what he +said as he gazed into the depths of the lustrous dark eyes. "You need +have no fear--you will succeed." + +Cynthia drew a long breath. Her attitude changed a little; limbs and +features seemed to relax, the color died slowly out of her flushed +cheeks. + +"You mean," she said, in a lower voice, "that you do not think, after +all, that I was very wrong--bold, unwomanly, I mean--to speak to you, +when I did not know you, in the street last night?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I had no claim on you, I know," proceeded the girl, the light of +excitement fading out of her face, and the perfect mouth beginning to +quiver as she spoke. "It was only a fancy of mine that, as you had +seemed to understand so well how dreadful it was to be alone--alone in +this great terrible London--you would hold out a helping hand to a girl +who only wanted work--just enough to gain her daily bread." She sobbed a +little, and put her hand over her eyes. + +"Miss West," said Hubert seriously, with a desperate effort to retain a +composure which was very hard to keep, "I can only assure you that I +shall consider it an honor to be allowed to help in bringing you to the +notice of men, who will do far more for you than I can hope to do." + +She withdrew her hand from her eyes and looked at him with a brilliant +smile, though the tears were still wet on her eyelashes. + +"You think I am worth helping?" she said. "And you will help me--you +yourself?" + +"I will not rest," answered Hubert. "I will work night and day, and give +body and soul, and I'll see you a _prima donna_ yet!" + +They both laughed, and then, obeying an impulse which stirred their +hearts alike, held out their hands to each other and exchanged a +friendly grasp. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The little village of Beechfield, like all other villages, had its dark +corners where vice and misery reigned supreme. In old times Mr. and Mrs. +Rumbold--good people as they were in their own fashion--had been content +to leave these darker places to themselves; the decent religious poor +of the parish gave them enough to do. But under the new Rector's rule a +new system had begun. The Reverend Maurice Evandale thought that his +duty lay amongst the lost sheep as well as amongst those already in the +fold. If he had been at Beechfield in the days before Sydney Vane's +death, he would never have let poor Andrew Westwood and his child remain +outcasts from the interests of religious life. He would have visited +them, talked to them, persuaded the child to go to school, perhaps even +induced the poacher to give up his vagrant ways; at any rate, he would +not have let them alone, but would have grappled fearlessly with the +difficulties of their position, and with that hostility which seemed to +exist between Westwood and the rest of the village. Whether he would +have been successful or not it were indeed hard to say, but that he +would have made a great effort to be so there can be no manner of doubt. + +Mr. Evandale's new system produced a great sensation in the parish--not +altogether a favorable sensation either; for the villagers, who had gone +on so long in quiet, comfortable, self-complacent ways, did not regard +with a favorable eye the changes which the Rector introduced. All the +old abuses which had slumbered peacefully in darkness for so many years +were exposed relentlessly by this too energetic young man. He swept away +the village band of stringed instruments from the church gallery; he +erected an organ in the chancel, and set the schoolmistress to play it; +he introduced new tunes into the choir, new doctrines into the pulpit; +he played havoc amongst all that was fusty and musty and venerable in +the villagers' eyes. He talked about drainage, and had an inspector down +to investigate the state of the village water-supply; he waged war upon +the publicans, set up an institute and a library for the village youths, +taught the boys, played with them--thrashed them too occasionally--and +made himself a terror to evil-doers and the idol of the young ladies of +the place. Naturally much was said against him, especially behind his +back. To his face, people did not venture to say much. The young Rector +had such a fearless way of looking straight into people's eyes, of +saying what he meant and expecting other people to do the same, that he +inspired something like fear in the shiftier and less trustworthy part +of the community. On the other hand, the weak, the sick, the very +young, instinctively loved and trusted him. "He is beautiful in a +sick-room," averred the elder women. Perhaps his words seemed beautiful +to them because they felt that by some mysterious law of sympathy he +understood their sorrows without having been a partaker in them, that he +had an infinite pity for the erring and the suffering, and that he never +felt himself less of a brother to his flock because so many of that +flock were sinful and ignorant and degraded. + +So, parson though he was, he became the friend and confidant of half the +village; and strange tales were poured into his ear sometimes--tales +which the tellers would formerly have laughed at the idea of relating to +the Rector of the parish so long as Mr. Rumbold reigned supreme. But to +Maurice Evandale nothing seemed to come amiss; he had interest and +sympathy for all. Stern to impenitent sinners he certainly was--brutal +men and idle lads cowered under the lash of his rebuke; but there was +not a soul in the village who did not also know that a word of +repentance, an act that showed a yearning after better things, was +sufficient to melt the Rector's wrath and turn him from a judge and +censor into a friend. Judging from the progress that Maurice Evandale +had already made in the hearts of his people, there was a fair +likelihood that if he stayed much longer he would be master of their +affections and their intellects, in a way which was unprecedented indeed +at Beechfield. + +He was not often at Beechfield Hall. The General liked his society +extremely, but Mrs. Vane declared that it fatigued her. + +"The man is so oppressively blunt and downright," she said, "that one +never knows what to expect from him next. He is a perfect bear." + +"But, my dear Flossy, he comes of a very good family, and I have heard +him praised on all sides for his distinguished manners," expostulated +the General. "I never knew a young man so courteous, so polished!" + +"I am spoiled for young men, General," said Flossy, extending her hand +very graciously to her white-haired husband. + +It was not often that she showed herself so actively amiable towards +him. She was usually somewhat passive, receiving his attentions with a +languid indifference which would have disconcerted some men, but which +did not disconcert the unsuspicious old General. He was delighted with +her little compliment, kissed her hand gallantly, and avowed that nobody +should come near the house whom she disliked. So Maurice Evandale was +not invited a second time to dinner. + +Naturally Enid was not consulted in the matter. She never expressed any +opinion at all concerning the new Rector. She had always been a regular +church-goer, and, wet or fine, never failed to be present at the class +over which she presided every Sunday afternoon. She was not a whit more +regular in her attendance at church and school than she had been before, +whereas giddy girls like the doctor's daughter and the lawyer's bevy of +fair damsels, and even the members of a neighboring Squire's large +family of girls, had all taken to attending Mr. Evandale's services and +schools with unexampled regularity. Flossy, who seldom went to church +herself, but always inquired diligently after the worshippers, and +exacted an account of their names and number from her young kinswoman, +used to utter sarcastic little jibs anent these young women's +clearly-manifested preference for Mr. Evandale, and was heard to say +rather sharply that, if Enid followed their example, it would be worth +while to have the horses out on a Sunday and drive over to the cathedral +of Whitminster, six miles away. But Enid never gave any sign of liking +the new Rector any better than she had liked Mr. Rumbold; and, as to +take the General away from the church in which he had knelt almost every +Sunday since he came home from active service in India, after his old +father's death, would have been to uproot one of the most deeply-rooted +instincts in his life. Florence was wise enough to let the matter pass, +and to content herself with wishing that the patron of the living had +given it to an older man--or at least to a married man. There was always +danger when a bachelor of eight-and-twenty, good-looking--indeed very +handsome--and with a comfortable income, came into close contact with +young and romantic girls. And Florence did not intend Enid to marry Mr. +Evandale--she had other views for her. + +It was strange to see how this white, silent, languid woman, whose only +occupations in life seemed to be eating, sleeping, driving, and +dressing, was able to mould the natures and ambitions of others to her +liking. Behind the mask of Flossy's pensive beauty lay a brain as +subtle, a will as inflexible, a heart as cold as ever daring criminal +possessed. Nothing daunted or repelled her, and in other circumstances +and other times her genius might have made her a mark for the execration +of all succeeding ages. But her sphere was not large; she had but +indifferent material to work upon in the seclusion of a country home and +the company of an old country gentleman and his niece; and she could but +do her best to gain her ends, even though the path of them lay across +bleeding hearts and lives laid waste by her cruelty. + +Mr. Evandale had felt the same distaste for her society that she had +expressed for his visits, and troubled himself not a little about the +want of charity that he discovered in himself. To his clear and +penetrating eyes there was a vein of falseness apparent in Mrs. Vane's +most honeyed speeches; her narrowed eyes were too subtle for his taste; +there were lines about her mouth which he had seen on faces of women +whom he did not love. For the life of him he could not repress a certain +honest gravity and even sternness of manner in addressing her; something +in her revolted him--he did not know how or why. He almost pitied the +General--the hearty, good old man who seemed so fond of his fair wife. +And he was sorry for Enid too, not only on account of her sad story, but +because she lived with this woman whom he distrusted, because she was +ruled by her fancies and educated according to her desires. And he was +even sorry--still without knowing why--for little Dick, whose quaint +childish face always expanded into a broad smile at the sight of him, +and whom he often met in the village, clinging fondly to Enid's hand. + +When he dined at the Hall, he had scarcely seen Enid, for, on some plea +of illness or fatigue, Mrs. Vane had kept her away from dinner, and her +presence in the drawing-room for the last half hour of Evandale's stay +had been a very silent one. But he often saw her in church. The Vanes' +pew was just in front of the pulpit, and the Rector could not preach +without noticing the steady attention given to him by the girl in the +Squire's pew, could not fail to be struck by the sweetness of the fair +uplifted face, the beauty of the pathetic eyes, in which there always +lurked the shadow of some past or future pain. The Rector fell into the +habit of preaching to that fair young face. But, strangely enough, he +did not preach as men usually preach to the young and innocent--his +words were often of consolation for bitter grief, tender counsel for the +afflicted, even of future hope and amendment for the guilty. Nothing +less peculiarly appropriate to a young girl of seventeen than some of +his sermons could be imagined--and yet they were all addressed to Enid +Vane. It was as if he were trying to strengthen her for some dread +conflict, some warfare of life and death, which his foreseeing eye +discerned for her in days to come. + +Enid was allowed to do a little district-visiting in the parish, and Mr. +Evandale had often heard reports of her gentleness and goodness; but he +had never personally encountered her on any of her errands of mercy. An +exception to this rule, however, took place on a certain afternoon in +November, a few weeks after Hubert Lepel's visit to Beechwood. + +Mr. Evandale had on that day received information that one of his +parishioners--a Mrs. Meldreth--was seriously ill and would like to see +him. The informant added that she brought the Rector word of this, +because Mrs. Meldreth's daughter Sabina was now at home, and seemed +anxious to keep the clergyman away. The Rector's fighting instincts were +at once aroused by this communication. He knew Sabina Meldreth by name +only, and had not derived a very pleasant impression of her from all +that he had heard. She had once been an under-housemaid at the Hall, but +had been dismissed for misconduct--of what sort nobody could exactly +say, although much was hinted at which the gossips did not put into +words--and had left the village soon afterwards. Since that time she had +been seen at Beechfield only at intervals; she came occasionally to see +her mother, and stated that she was "engaged in a millinery business at +Whitminster, and doing well." Certainly her airs and graces, her plumes +and jewelry, seemed to betoken that her finances were in a flourishing +condition. But she never came to church, and was reported to talk in an +irreverent manner, which made the Rector long to get hold of her for +five minutes. With his strong convictions, Maurice Evandale could not +bear to hear without protest of the insolent and almost profane sallies +of wit by which, to his mind, Sabina Meldreth dishonored her Creator. +He had long resolved to speak to her on the subject when next she +visited Beechfield. Perhaps her mother's illness would have softened her +and would make the Rector's task less difficult--for it was not his +nature to love the administration of rebuke, although he held it to be +one of his essential duties, when occasion required. + +Mrs. Meldreth was a respectable elderly woman, who kept a small shop for +cheap groceries and haberdashery in the village. She did not do much +business, but she lived in apparent comfort--probably, the neighbors +said, because she was helped by her daughter's earnings. And then Mrs. +Vane was unusually kind to her. Flossy did not interest herself much in +the welfare of her poorer neighbors, but to Mrs. Meldreth she certainly +showed peculiar favor. Many a gift of food and wine went from the Hall +across Mrs. Meldreth's threshold; and it was noticed that Mrs. Meldreth +was occasionally admitted to Mrs. Vane's own room for a private +conference with the lady of Beechfield Hall herself. But those who +commented wonderingly on that fact were reminded that Mrs. Meldreth +added to her occupations that of sick-nurse, and that she had been in +attendance on Mrs. Vane at the time of the young Squire's birth. It was +natural that Mrs. Vane should be on more intimate terms with her than +with any other of the village women. + +Mrs. Meldreth was not an interesting person in the eyes of the world at +large. She was a sad, silent, dull-faced individual, with blank looking +eyes and a dreary mouth. There were anxious lines on her forehead and +hollows in her pale cheeks, such as her easy circumstances did not +account for. That she "enjoyed very poor health," according to the +dictum of her neighbors, was considered by them to be a sufficient +reason for Mrs. Meldreth's evident lack of peace of mind. + +Mr. Evandale set off for his visit to the sick woman early in the +afternoon. He was hindered on his way to her house by meeting with +various of his friends of the humbler sort, whom he did not like to pass +without a word, and it was after three o'clock before he reached Mrs. +Meldreth's cottage. He entered the shop, which looked duller and more +uninviting than ever, and found that it was tenanted only by a girl of +thirteen--a girl whom he knew to be the stupidest in the whole of the +village school. + +"Well, Polly Moss," he said good-naturedly, "are you taking care of the +shop?" + +Polly Moss, a girl whose mouth looked as if it would never close, beamed +at him with radiant satisfaction, and replied-- + +"Yes, sir--I'm minding the shop, sir. Did you want any groceries to-day, +please, sir?" + +"No, thank you," said the Rector, smiling. "I have come to see Mrs. +Meldreth, who, I hear, is ill." + +"Yes, sir," said Polly, in a tone of resigned affliction. "I thought +p'r'aps you was going to buy something, sir. I hain't sold anythink the +'ole afternoon." + +"Polly," said Mr. Evandale, "how often am I to tell you to say the +'whole' afternoon, not the ''ole'?" The unlucky man had even made war on +the natives' practice of leaving out their "h's"! "'Whole,' with an 'h,' +remember! Well, I will buy something--what shall it be?--a pound of tea +perhaps. Ah, yes! Two shillings a pound, isn't it? Pack it up and send +it to the Rectory to-night, Polly; and here are the two shillings to put +into the till. Now will you ask if I can see Mrs. Meldreth?" + +Polly's shining face suddenly fell. + +"I daren't leave the shop, sir," she said. "I left it this morning just +for a minute or two, and Miss Meldreth said she'd skin me alive if ever +I did so again. Would you mind, sir"--insinuatingly--"just a-going up +the stairs and knocking at the door atop o' them? They'll be glad to see +you, I'm sure, sir; and I daren't leave the shop for a single minute." + +"All right," said the Rector. He was used to entering sick-rooms, and +did not find Polly Moss' request very much out of the way. "I'll go up." + +He passed through the shop and ascended the stairs, with every step of +which he was familiar, as he had already visited Mrs. Meldreth during +one or two previous attacks of illness, and was heard to knock at the +sick woman's bed-room door. + +"Oh, my," exclaimed Polly, as soon as he was out of reach, "and if I +didn't go for to forget to tell him as 'ow Miss Enid was up there! Oh, +my! But I don't suppose he'll mind! He's only the parson, after all." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +When Mr. Evandale knocked at Mrs. Meldreth's door, he was aware of a +slight bustle within, followed by the sound of voices in low-toned +conference; then came a rather sharply-toned "Come in!". As, however, +the Rector still hesitated, the door was flung open by a young woman, +whose very gestures seemed to show that she acted under protest, and +would not have admitted him at all if she had had her own way. She was a +fair-complexioned woman of perhaps thirty years of age, tall, well made, +robust, and generally considered handsome; she had prominent light-blue +eyes, and features which, without being badly cut, were indefinably +common and even coarse-looking. In her cheeks a patch of exceptionally +vivid red had so artificial an appearance, that the Rector could not +believe it to be genuine; but later he gained an impression that it +proceeded from excitement, and not from any adventitious source. The +eyes of this woman were sparkling with anger; there was defiance in her +every movement, even in the way in which her fingers were clenched at +her sides or clutched the iron rail of the bed on which her mother lay. +The Rector wondered at her evident disturbance; it must have proceeded +from something, that had occurred before his entrance, he concluded, and +he looked towards the bed as if to discover whether the cause of Sabina +Meldreth's anger could be found there. + +But no--surely not there! The Rector thought that he had seldom seen a +fairer picture than the one which met his eyes. Goodness, gentleness, +youth supporting age, beauty unabashed by feebleness and ugliness--these +were the characteristics of the scene on which he looked. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth lay back upon her pillows, her face wan and worn, her eyes +wandering, her gray hair escaping from her close cap and straying over +her forehead. But beside her knelt Enid Vane. The girl's arm was beneath +the old woman's bowed shoulders; it was evident that in this position +the invalid could breathe better and was more at ease. The sweet fair +face, with its slight indefinable shadow deepened at this moment into a +look of perfect pity, was bent over the wrinkled, withered countenance +of the sick woman. Never, the Rector thought, had he seen a lovelier +picture of youth ministering to the wants of age. + +But a sense of incongruity also struck him, and he turned rather quickly +to Miss Meldreth, whose defiant eyes had been fixed upon him from the +first moment of his entrance into the room. + +"You are Mrs. Meldreth's daughter?" he said, in a quick but not unkindly +undertone. "Why do you let the young lady there wait upon your mother? +Can you not nurse her yourself, my good girl?" + +Sabina Meldreth curtseyed, but in evident mockery, for the color in her +cheeks grew higher, and her tone was anything but respectful when she +spoke. + +"Of course I can nurse my mother, sir, and of course a young lady like +Miss Vane didn't ought to put her finger to anything menial," she said, +with a sharpness which took the Rector a little by surprise. "I'm quite +well aware of the difference between us. And"--anger now evidently +gaining the upper hand--"if you'd tell Miss Vane to go, sir, I'd be +obliged to you, for she is only exciting mother, and doing her no good." + +"Your mother shows no symptoms of excitement," said the Rector quietly; +"and I must say, Miss Meldreth, that your words do not evince the +gratitude that I should have expected you to feel for the young lady's +kindness." + +"Kindness! Oh, kindness is all very well!" said Miss Meldreth, with an +angry toss of her fair head. "But I don't know what kindness there is in +disturbing my poor mother--reading hymns and psalms, and all that sort +of thing!" + +Mr. Evandale had hitherto wondered whether or no Miss Vane heard a word +of Sabina Meldreth's acid utterances, but he had henceforward no room +for doubt. The girl raised her head a little and spoke in a low but +penetrating tone. + +"Miss Meldreth," she said, "excuse me, but you yourself are disturbing +your mother far more than I have done. See--she is beginning to be +restless again; she cannot bear loud talking or altercation." + +The Rector was astonished by the firmness of her tone. She was so +graceful, so slight, so fragile-looking, that he had not credited her +with any great strength of character, in spite of his admiration for her +beauty. But what she said was perfectly true, and he hastened to lend +her his support. + +"Quite so," he said approvingly. "Mrs. Meldreth should be kept quiet, I +can see"--for the old woman had begun to moan and to move her head +restlessly from side to side when she heard her daughter's rasping +voice. "Perhaps you would step into another room with me, Miss Meldreth, +and tell me how this attack came on--if, at least, Miss Vane does not +mind being left with Mrs. Meldreth for a few minutes, or if she is not +tired." + +Enid answered with a faint sweet smile. + +"I am not tired," she said. "And poor nurse wants to speak to me when +she is able. She sent to tell me so. I can stay with her quite well." + +But the proposition seemed to excite Sabina Meldreth almost to fury. + +"If you think," she said, "that I am going to leave my mother alone with +anybody--gentleman or lady--you are mistaken. If you want her to be +quiet, leave her alone yourselves--she'll stay quiet enough if she's +left to me." + +"Sabina," said Enid, with a gentle dignity of tone which commanded the +Rector's admiration and respect, "you know that your mother wanted me to +come." + +"I know that she's off her head!" said Sabina angrily. "She doesn't know +what she says or what she wants. It's nonsense, all of it! And meaning +no disrespect to you, Miss Vane"--in a lower but sulkier tone--"if you +would but go away and leave her to me, she'd be all the better for it in +the end." + +"Hush!" said Enid, raising her hand--the serenity of her face was quite +undisturbed by Sabina's expostulation. "She is coming to herself +again--she is going to speak." + +There was a moment's silence in the room. The sick woman was lying +still; her eyes wandered and her lips moved, but as yet no articulate +sound issued from them. In apparently uncontrollable passion, Sabina +stamped violently and shook the rail of the iron bedstead with her +hands. + +"She ain't going to speak; she is off her head, I tell you! She ain't +got anything to say." + +The Rector looked at her steadily. For the first time it occurred to him +that the younger woman had some unworthy motive in her desire to silence +her mother and to get the listeners out of the room. Dislike of +interference, jealousy, and bad temper would not entirely account, he +thought, for her intense and angry agitation. Had Mrs. Meldreth and her +daughter some secret which the mother would gladly confess and the girl +was fain to hide? + +A feeble voice sounded from the bed. + +"Is it Miss Enid?" said Mrs. Meldreth. "Has she come?" + +"No," said Sabina boldly and loudly. "You go to sleep, mother, and don't +you bother about Miss Enid." + +"Miss Meldreth, how dare you try to deceive a dying woman?" said the +Rector, so sternly that even Sabina quailed a little before the deep low +tones of his voice. "Yes, Mrs. Meldreth, Miss Enid Vane is here, and you +can say all that you wish to say to her." + +"I am here, nurse," said Enid gently--she had always been in the habit +of addressing Mrs. Meldreth by that title. "Do you want me?" + +"Oh, my dearie," said the old woman dreamily, "and have you come to me +after all? Sabina there, she tried to keep you away; but I had my will +at last. Polly told you that I wanted you, didn't she, Miss Enid dear?" + +"Yes, nurse, she told me." + +"I'll pay Polly Moss out for that!" Sabina was heard to mutter between +her closed teeth. But Enid took no notice of the words. + +"I'd something to say to you, my dearie," said Mrs. Meldreth, whose +voice, though feeble, was now perfectly distinct; "and 'dearie' I must +call you, although I haven't the right to do it now. I held you in my +arms, my dear, five minutes after you came into this here wicked world, +and I've allus looked on you as one o' my own babies, so to speak." + +The delicate color had flushed Enid's cheeks a little, but she answered +simply, "Yes, dear nurse;" and, leaning down, she kissed the old woman's +forehead. + +The caress moved the Rector strangely. His heart gave an odd bound, the +blood began to course more rapidly through his veins. He was a +clergyman, and he was in the presence of a dying woman; but he was a +man for all that, and at the moment when Enid's pure lips were pressed +to her old nurse's brow, his whole being was stirred by a new emotion, +which as yet he did not suspect was known amongst men by the name of +love. + +Sabina Meldreth had withdrawn from her station at the foot of the bed; +she had moved softly to the side, and now stood by her mother's pillow, +opposite to Enid, with her eyes fixed watchfully, balefully, upon her +mother's face. But Mrs. Meldreth seemed unconscious of her daughter's +gaze. + +"I've something to say to you, my pretty," she said, with long pauses +between the sentences--longer and longer as the laboring breath became +more difficult and the task of speech more painful. "Sabina would nigh +kill me if she knew. But I can't die with this thing on my mind. If I've +wronged you and yours, and my own flesh and blood as well, I want to +make amends." + +"Is she--does she know what she is saying?" said Enid, raising her eyes +to the Rector's face, with a touch of doubt and alarm in their pensive +depths. + +Before Mr. Evandale could answer Sabina broke in wildly. + +"No, she don't--she don't know what she's saying; I told you so before! +She's got her head full of mad fancies; she's not responsible, and +you've no business to listen to her ravings. It ain't fair--it ain't +fair--it ain't fair!" She concluded with a sob of passion that broke, in +spite of her efforts to control herself, from her whitening lips, but +which brought no tears with it to her eyes. + +"Control yourself," said the Rector gravely. "We shall make all +allowance for your mother's state of mind. But, if there is anything +that she ought to confess, any act of dishonesty or unfaithfulness while +she served Miss Vane's parents or uncle, then let her speak and humble +herself in the sight of God, in whose very presence she, like all of us, +will shortly stand." + +The Rector's solemn tones awed Sabina into momentary quiescence, and +reached even the dying woman's dulled ears. + +"It is the parson," she said feebly. "Yes, I'm glad he's here, and Miss +Enid too. I can't go into the Almighty's presence with a lie on my +lips--can I, parson? It would weigh me down--down--down to hell. I must +confess!" + +"You've nothing to confess," said Sabina, almost fiercely; "lie still +and hold your tongue, mother! You'll only bring shame on us both; and +it's not true--not true!" + +"You know then that your mother has something on her mind? In God's name +be silent and let her speak!" said Mr. Evandale. + +Enid looked up at her with wondering pity. Indeed Sabina Meldreth +presented at that moment a strange and even tragic appearance. The hot +unnatural color had left her cheeks, her ashy lips were strained back +from her clenched teeth, her eyes were wide with an unspoken fear. +Whatever she might say or leave unsaid, neither of those two persons who +looked at her could doubt for another moment that Sabina Meldreth had a +secret--a guilty secret--weighing heavily upon her mind. + +Mrs. Meldreth's weak voice once more broke the silence. + +"I never thought of its harming you, my dear," she said. "I thought you +was rich and would not want houses and lands. And, when Mrs. Vane that +now is came to me and said----" + +She did not achieve her sentence. Sabina Meldreth had flown like a +tigress at her mother's throat. + +But, fortunately for Mrs. Meldreth, a strong and resolute man was in the +room. He had already drawn nearer to Sabina, with a feeling that she was +not altogether to be trusted, and, as soon as she made her first savage +movement--so like that of a wild beast leaping on its prey--his hands +were upon her, his strong arms holding her back. For a minute there was +a frightful struggle. The Rector pinioned her arms; but she, with the +ferocity of an undisciplined nature, flung her head sideways and +fastened her teeth in his arm. Her strength and her agility were so +great that the Rector could not easily disengage himself; and, although +the cloth of his coat-sleeve prevented her attempt to bite from doing +any great injury, the assault was sufficiently painful and sufficiently +unexpected to protract the struggle longer than might have been +anticipated. For, as she was a woman, Maurice Evandale did not like to +resort to active violence, and it was with some difficulty that he at +last mastered her and placed her in a chair, where for a few minutes he +had to hold her until her struggles ceased and were succeeded by a burst +of convulsive sobs. Then he felt that he might relax his hold, she +ceased to be dangerous when she began to cry. + +Enid had involuntarily withdrawn her arm from Mrs. Meldreth's shoulders, +and sprung to her feet with a low cry when she saw the struggle that was +taking place; but in a second or two she conquered her impulse to fly to +the Rector's aid, and with rare self-control bent once more over the +dying woman, who needed her help more than Mr. Evandale could. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth was almost unconscious of the disturbance. Her eyes were +glazing, her sight was growing feeble, the words that fell from her lips +were broken and disconnected. But still she spoke--still she went on +pouring her story into Enid's listening ears. + +When the Rector at last looked round, he saw an expression on Enid's +face which chilled him to the bone. It was a look of unutterable woe, of +grief, shame, agony, and profound astonishment. But there was no +incredulity. Whatever Mrs. Meldreth had told her Enid had believed. The +Rector made one step towards the bed. + +"If you have anything to confess, Mrs. Meldreth," he began; but Enid +interrupted him. + +"She has confessed," said the girl, turning her face to him with a +strange look of mingled humiliation and compassion--"she has +confessed--and I--I have forgiven. Nurse, do you hear? God will forgive +you, and I forgive you too." + +"God will forgive," murmured the woman. + +A smile flickered over her pale face. Then a change came; the light in +her eyes went out, her jaw fell. A slight convulsion passed through her +whole frame, and she lay still--very still. The confession, great or +small, that she had made had been heard only by Enid and her God. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +"It is all over," said Maurice Evandale, looking gravely at the dead +woman's face. "It is all over, and may God have mercy upon her soul!" + +He left Sabina, who was sobbing hysterically as she sat huddled up in +the chair on which he had placed her, and came to Enid's side. She +turned to him with sorrowful appeal. + +"Is she dead? Can nothing be done?" + +"Nothing. Come away, Miss Vane; this is no place for you. One moment! +Have you anything to say to this woman? Have you any charge to bring?" + +He pointed to Sabina as he spoke, and she, roused for an instant, raised +a mute terrified face from her hands, and seemed to shrink still lower +in her chair, as if she would willingly have hidden herself and her +secret, whatever it might be, out of sight of all the world. She +waited--waited--evidently with dread--for the accusation that she +expected from Enid's lips. The Rector waited also, but the accusation +did not come. There was a moment's utter silence in the chamber of +death. + +"Have you anything to say?" asked Maurice Evandale at last. + +Then Enid spoke. + +"No," she answered, with quivering lips; "I can say nothing. I--I +forgave her--before she died;" and then she turned away and went swiftly +out of the room, leaving the others to follow or linger as they pleased. + +Sabina rose from her chair and stood as if dazed, stupefied by her +position. All her fierceness and defiance had left her; her face was +white, her eyes were downcast, her hands hung listlessly at her sides. +The Rector paused and spoke. + +"You hear what Miss Vane said?" + +She made no answer. + +"I do not know what you or your mother may have done. Some secret guilt +evidently weighed upon her soul. Whatever it may be, she confessed her +guilt and received forgiveness. Sabina Meldreth, in the presence of your +dead mother and of your living God, I call upon you to do the same. If +you would find mercy in the hour of your own death, confess your sin, +whatever it may be, and you shall be forgiven." + +Still she stood silent and almost motionless, but her teeth gnawed at +her white lips as if to bite them through. + +"You will have no better time than the present," said the Rector. "If +there is anything that you feel should be confessed, confess it now. It +is God's voice calling to you, not mine. Your mother cleared her +conscience before she died, do you the same. I bid you in God's name." + +Maurice Evandale did not often speak after this fashion; he was no +fanatic, no bigot, but he believed intensely in the great eternal truths +which he preached, and in the presence of death--in the presence also, +as he believed, of mortal sin--he could not do less than appeal to what +was highest and best in the nature of the woman before him. What she had +to accuse herself of he could not possibly imagine; but he knew that +there was something. By the dead woman's incoherent words, by Sabina +Meldreth's violence, by Enid's stricken look of perplexity and pain, he +knew that something lay hidden which ought to be brought to light. + +The winter's day was drawing to a close. Through the uncurtained window +the light stole dimly, and the reddened coals in the tiny grate threw +but a feeble gleam into the room. In every corner shadows seemed to +cluster, and the dead woman's face looked horribly pale and ghastly in +the surrounding gloom. The Rector waited with a feeling that the moment +was unutterably solemn; that it was fraught with the destiny of a +suffering, sinning human being--for aught he knew, with the destinies of +more than one. Suddenly the woman before him threw up her hands as if to +shut out the sight of her dead mother's face. + +"I have nothing to tell you--nothing!" she cried. "What business have +you here? You teased my mother out of her last few minutes of life, and +now you want to get the mastery over me! It's my house now, my room--not +my mother's--and you may go out of it." + +"Is that all you have to say," asked the Rector gravely--"even in her +presence, Sabina Meldreth?" + +"Yes, that's all," she answered, the old fierceness creeping back into +her tones. "What else should I have to say? I suppose you can have me +taken up for assault; Miss Vane will bear witness in your favor fast +enough, no doubt. I don't care!" + +"Do you not care even when you think what I kept you back from?" said +Mr. Evandale. "Your mother was old, weak, dying, and you threw yourself +upon her with violence. You will remember that some day, and will bless +me perhaps because I withheld your hand. Your attack upon me matters +nothing. I am willing to believe that you did not know what you were +doing. I will leave you know--it is not seemly that we should discuss +this matter any further. But, if ever you want help or counsel--and the +day may come, my poor woman, when you may want both--then come to me." + +He opened the door, went out, and closed it behind him, leaving Sabina +Meldreth alone with the dead. + +He found two or three women down-stairs already; Enid Vane must have +told Polly, as she passed through the shop, that Mrs. Meldreth's end had +come. As soon as he had gone, two of them went up-stairs to perform the +necessary offices in the chamber of death. They found Sabina stretched +on the floor in a swoon, from which it was long before she recovered. + +"You wouldn't ha' thought she had so much feeling in her," said one of +the women to the other, as they ministered to her wants. + +Meanwhile the Rector strode down the village street, straining his eyes +in the twilight, and glancing eagerly from side to side, in his endeavor +to discover what had become of Miss Vane. He knew that she had probably +never been out so late unattended in her life before; lonely as her +existence seemed to be, she was well cared for, anxiously guarded, and +surrounded by every possible protection. He had been surprised to find +her in Mrs. Meldreth's cottage so late in the afternoon. Only the +exigencies of the situation had prevented him from following her at once +when she left the house--only the stern conviction that he must not, for +the sake of Miss Vane's bodily safety and comfort, neglect Sabina +Meldreth's soul. But, when he felt that his duty in the cottage was +over, he sallied forth in search of Enid Vane. She had been wearing a +long fur-lined cloak, he remembered, and on her head a little fur toque +to match. The colors of both were dark; at a distance she could not be +easily distinguished by her dress. And she had at least three-quarters +of a mile to walk--through the village, down-hill by the lane, past the +fir plantation where her father had been found murdered, and a little +way along the high-road--before she would reach her own park gate. The +Rector, like all strong men, was very tender and pitiful to the weak. +The thought of her feeling nervous and frightened in the darkness of the +lane was terrible to him; he felt as if she ought to be guarded and +guided throughout life by the fearless and the strong. + +He walked down the street--it was a long straggling street such as often +forms the main thoroughfare of a country village--but he saw nothing of +Enid. At the end of the street were some better-built houses, with +gardens; then came the Rectory and the church. He paused instinctively +at the churchyard gate. Surely he saw something moving amongst the tombs +over there by the railed-in plot of ground that marked the vault, in +which lay the mortal remains of Sydney and Marion Vane? Had she gone +there? Was it Enid's slender form that crouched beside the railings in +the attitude of helpless sorrow and despair? + +The Rector did not lose a moment in finding out. He threw open the gate, +dashed down the pathway, and was scarcely astonished to discover that +his fancy was correct. It was Enid Vane who had found her way to her +parents' grave, and had slipped down upon the frosted grass, half +kneeling, half lying against the iron rails. + +One glance, and Evandale's heart gave a leap of terror. Had she fainted, +or was she dead? It was no warm, conscious, breathing woman whom he had +found--it was a rigid image of death, as stiff, as sightless, as +inanimate as the corpse that he had left behind. He bent down over her, +felt her pulse, and examined the pupils of her eyes. He had had some +medical training before he came to Beechfield, and his knowledge of +physiological details told him that this was no common faint--that the +girl was suffering from some strange cataleptic or nervous seizure, for +which ordinary remedies would be of no avail. + +The Rectory garden opened into the churchyard. Maurice Evandale had not +a moment's hesitation in deciding what to do. He lifted the strangely +rigid, strangely heavy figure in his arms, and made his way along the +shadowy churchyard pathway to the garden gate. The great black yews +looked grim and ghostly as he left them behind and strode into his own +domain, where the flowers were all dead, and the leafless branches of +the fruit-trees waved their spectral arms above him as he passed. There +was something indefinably unhomelike and weird in the aspect of the most +familiar places in the winter twilight. But Maurice Evandale, by an +effort of his strong will, banished the fancies that came into his mind, +and fixed his thoughts entirely upon the girl he was carrying. How best +to restore her, what to do for her comfort and her welfare when she +awoke--these were the thoughts that engrossed his attention now. + +He did not go to the front-door. He went to a long window which opened +upon the garden, and walked straight into his own study. A bright fire +burned in the grate; a lamp was placed on the table, where books and +papers were heaped in true bachelor confusion. A low broad sofa occupied +one side of the room; the Rector deposited his burden upon it, and then +devoted himself seriously to the consideration of the case before him. + +Enid lay white, motionless, rigid, where he had placed her; her eyelids +were not quite closed, and the eyes were visible between the lids; her +lips were open, but the teeth were tightly closed; a slight froth showed +itself about her mouth. + +"It is no faint," the Rector said to himself. "It is a fit, a nervous +seizure of some sort. If she does not revive in a minute or two, I shall +send for Ingledew"--Ingledew was the village doctor--"and in the +meantime I'll act on my own responsibility." + +Certain reviving measures were tried by him, and apparently with +success. The bluish whiteness of the girl's face changed to a more +natural color, her teeth relaxed, her eyelids drooped. Evandale drew a +quick breath of relief when he saw the change. He was able to pour a few +drops of brandy down her throat, to chafe the unresisting hands, to +bathe the cold forehead with some hope of affording relief. He did all +as carefully and tenderly as if he had been a woman, and he did not seem +to wish for any other aid. Indeed he had locked the door when he first +came in, as if to guard against the chance of interruption. + +Presently he heard her sigh; then tears appeared on her lashes and stole +down her cheeks. Her limbs fell into their natural position, and she put +up her hand at last with a feeble, uncertain movement, as if to wipe +away her tears. Evandale drew back a little--almost out of her sight. He +did not want to startle her. + +"Where am I?" she said, in a tremulous voice. + +"You are at the Rectory, Miss Vane," said Maurice Evandale quietly. "You +need not be at all alarmed; you may have heard that I am something of a +doctor, and, as I found that you did not seem well, I took the liberty +of bringing you here." + +"I don't remember," she said softly, opening her blue eyes and looking +at him--without shyness, as he noticed, but with a kind of wistful +trust which appealed to all the tenderness of his nature. "Did I faint?" +There was a slight emphasis on the last word. + +"You were unconscious for a time," said the Rector. "But I hope that you +feel better now." + +She gave him a curious look--whether of shame or of reproach he could +not tell--then buried her face in the pillows and began to cry quietly, +with her fingers before her eyes. + +"My dear Miss Vane, can I not do anything for you? I will call the +housekeeper," said the Rector, driven almost to desperation by the sight +of her tears. It was always very painful to him to see a woman cry. + +"No, no!" she said, raising her head for a moment. "No--don't call any +one, please; I shall be better directly. I know what was the matter +now." + +She dried her eyes and tried to calm herself, while the Rector stood by +the table in the middle of the room, nervously turning over books and +pamphlets, and pretending not to see that she was crying still. + +"Mr. Evandale," she said at length, "I don't know how to thank you for +being so kind. I must tell you----" + +"Don't tell me anything that is painful to you, Miss Vane." + +"It will not be painful to tell you after your great kindness to me. +I--I am subject to these attacks. The doctors say that they do not +exactly understand the case, but they think that I shall outgrow them in +course of time. I have not had one for six months till to-night." She +burst into tears again. + +"But, my dear child,"--he could not help saying it--the words slipped +from his lips against his will--"there is nothing to be so troubled +about; a little faintness now and then--many people suffer from it." + +"Ah, you do not understand!" she said quickly. "It is not faintness at +all. I am often quite conscious all the time. I remember now how you +found me and brought me here. I was not insensible all the time, but I +cannot move or speak when I am like that. It has been so ever +since--ever since my father died." She lowered her voice, as if she were +telling something that was terrible to her. + +"I see," said Mr. Evandale kindly--"it is an affection of the nerves, +which you will get over when you are stronger. I hope that you do not +make a trouble of that?" His eyes looked steadily into hers, and he +noted with pain the strange shadow that crossed them as he gazed. + +"My uncle and his wife," she murmured, "will not let anybody know. They +are--they are ashamed of it, and of me. If I do not get better, they say +that I shall some day go out of my mind. Oh, it is terrible--terrible to +feel a doom of this sort hanging over one, and to know that nothing can +avert it! I had hoped that it was all over--that I should not have +another attack; but you see--you see that I hoped in vain! It is like a +black shadow always hanging over me, and nothing--nothing will ever take +it away!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +For a moment even the stout-hearted Rector was appalled. But Enid, +although she was watching him intently, could not read anything but +unfaltering sympathy and ready cheer in the glance that he gave her and +the words that rose almost immediately to his tongue. + +"Courage! Doctors are very often wrong," he said. "Besides, I do not see +why such an ending should be feared, even if there were any +constitutional tendency of the kind in your family, which there is not." + +"No," said Enid, less timidly than before; "I believe there is not. I +have asked." + +"Your attacks are only nervous, my dear Miss Vane. The very fact of your +having--foolishly, I think--been, told the doctor's theories has made it +less possible for you to strive against the malady; and yet you say that +it has not made progress lately. You have not been ill in this way for +six months?" + +"No, not for six months." + +"Don't you see that the excitement and fatigue of to-day's expedition, +and the sad scene which we have just witnessed, would be likely to +increase any ailment of the nervous system? You must not argue anything +from what has happened to-day. Forgive me," the Rector broke off to say, +with a smile--"I am talking like a doctor to you, and my medical skill +is small indeed. It is only large enough to enable me to assure you, +Miss Vane, of my conviction that your fears are ungrounded, and that you +are tormenting yourself to no purpose. Will you try to take my advice +and turn your thoughts away from this unhappy subject?" + +"I will try," answered Enid, with rather a bewildered look. "But," she +added a moment later, "I thought that I ought to be always on my guard; +and one cannot be on one's guard without thinking about the matter." + +"Who told you that you ought to be always on your guard?" + +"Flossy--I mean Mrs. Vane. She is very kind, and watches me constantly. +Oh, I forgot," said the girl, starting to her feet, and clasping her +hands before her with a look of wretched nervous terror which went to +the Rector's heart--"I forgot--I forgot----" + +"What did you forget?" said Evandale, wondering for a moment whether her +mind was not unhinged by all that she had passed through that afternoon. +Then, touched by her evident distress, he went on more lightly, "I have +been forgetting that you will be missed from the Hall by this time, and +that the whole country-side will be out after you if we do not go back +at once. I will send for a carriage and drive down with you, if you will +allow me." + +Enid sank back on the sofa and assented listlessly. Mr. Evandale left +the room, and sent in his absence a comfortable-looking old housekeeper +with wine and biscuits, offers of tea and coffee, and all sorts of +medicaments suitable to a young lady who had been faint and unwell--as +was only to be expected after witnessing the death of Mrs. Meldreth, +that troublesome old person having expired quite suddenly that afternoon +when Miss Vane and Mr. Evandale were both at her bedside. Enid was not +inclined to accept any of Mrs. Heale's attentions, but, out of sheer +dislike to hurting her feelings, she at last accepted a cup of tea, and +was glad of the reviving warmth which it brought to her cold and tired +limbs. And then Mr. Evandale returned. + +"There is no carriage at the inn," he said; "and I am sorry to say, Miss +Vane, that I do not possess one that would suit you--I have only a high +dog-cart and a kicking mare; so I have taken the liberty of sending down +to the Hall and telling Mrs. Vane that you are here; and she will no +doubt send a carriage for you. I wrote a little note to her--it was the +best thing, I thought, that I could do." + +"Yes," said Enid, almost inaudibly. Then she leaned back and closed her +eyes, looking as if she felt sick and faint. + +Mrs. Heale glided away, in obedience to a nod from her master, and the +Rector was once more alone with Enid Vane. + +"I hope," he said, with a slight hesitation, which was rather graceful +in a man of his commanding stature and singular loftiness of bearing--"I +hope, Miss Vane, you will not think that I have been intrusive when I +tell you that I entreated Sabina Meldreth to confess anything that might +weigh upon her conscience, as her mother had confessed to you." + +A great wave of crimson suddenly passed over Enid's pallid cheeks and +brow. She raised a pair of startled eyes to the Rector's' face, and then +said quickly-- + +"Did she tell you?" + +"No, Miss Vane, she did not." + +"Then will you promise me," said Enid, with sudden earnestness, "never +to ask her again?" + +"How can I do that? It may be my duty to ask her for her soul's sake; +you would be the last to counsel me to be silent then." + +"Oh, but you do not understand! I know now--I know what is weighing on +Sabina Meldreth's mind; and I have forgiven her." + +"It was a wrong done to you?" + +"Yes--to me." + +"And to no one else?" Enid's head drooped. + +"I don't know--I can't tell. I must think it over." + +"Yes--think and pray," said the Rector gravely but tenderly; "and +remember that truth should always prevail." + +"I know--I believe it; but it would do more harm than good." + +"Miss Vane, if I am indiscreet, I trust you will pardon me. If by any +chance this confession has reference to the death of your father, Mr. +Sydney Vane, it is your duty to make it known, at any cost to your own +feelings." + +The girl looked up with an expression of relief. + +"It does not bear on that subject at all, Mr. Evandale." + +"I am glad. You will forgive me for alluding to it? A wild fancy crossed +my mind that it had something to do with that." + +"I shall never forget your kindness," said Enid gratefully. + +"And if you are in perplexity--in any trouble--will you trust me to do +all for you that is in my power? If you ever want help, you will +remember that I am ready--ready for all--all that you might require----" + +He never finished his speech, which was perhaps fortunate for him. With +Enid's soft eyes, slightly distressed and appealing in expression, +looking straight into his own, with the sight before him of her pale, +wistful face, the lovely lips which had fallen into so pathetic a curve +of weariness and sorrow, how could the Rector be expected to preserve +his self-possession? His thoughts and his words became confused; he did +not quite know what he was saying, nor whether she heard and understood +him aright. He was glad to remember afterwards that the expression of +her countenance did not change; he brought neither alarm nor +astonishment into her eyes; there were only gentle gratitude and a kind +of hopelessness, the meaning of which he could not fathom, in the girl's +still raised listening face. But at that very moment a knock came to the +door; and half to the Rector's relief, half to his embarrassment, the +General himself walked in. + +"Ah, thank Heaven, she is here!" were the old man's first words. "We +thought she was lost, Mr. Evandale--we did indeed. I met your messenger +on the way to the Hall, and sent him on for the carriage. A pretty time +you've given us, young lady!" he said, smiling at Enid and pinching her +chin, and then grasping the Rector's hand with a look of relief and +gratitude which told its own story. + +"Miss Vane has been a good deal distressed and upset," said Mr. +Evandale. "She was at Mrs. Meldreth's bedside when the old woman died +this afternoon, and the scene was naturally very painful. I brought her +here that she might rest and recover herself a little before going +home." + +He wanted to explain and simplify matters for Enid's benefit; he had +grasped the fact that her uncle's entrance was making her exceedingly +nervous. He put it down to fear of the General's anger, but it +afterwards occurred to him that Mrs. Meldreth's confession might, for +some reason or other, be the cause of her agitation. Certainly her +distress and confusion were at that moment very marked. She had risen +from her seat at his entrance, her color changing to crimson and then to +dead white more than once during the Rector's speech. It settled at last +into a painful pallor, which so impressed the General that he did not +even administer the gentle rebuke which he had intended Enid to receive +for her infringement of the rules on which her life was based. He could +not scold her when she stood before him, pale to the very lips, her +eyelids cast down, her hands joined together and nervously trembling, a +very embodiment of conscious guilt and shame. + +"Bless my soul, she does look upset, and no mistake!" he exclaimed, in +his hearty and impulsive way. "Come, my dear--don't be so miserable +about it! I daresay you did not know how late it was, and the poor woman +could not be left. Yes, I quite understand; and I will explain it all to +your aunt. Sit down and rest until the carriage comes, as the Rector +does not mind our invasion of his study." + +Mr. Evandale made some polite but slightly incoherent rejoinder, to +which nobody listened, for the General's attention was at that moment +completely monopolised by Enid, who on feeling his arm around her, +suddenly hid her white face on his shoulder and burst into tears. + +"Oh, uncle," she sobbed, "you are so kind--so good! Forgive me!" + +"Forgive you, my dear? There is nothing to forgive!" said the astonished +General, in a slightly reproving tone. "Of course I do not like your +staying out so late on a winter afternoon, but you need not make such a +fuss about it, my child. You must control yourself, control yourself, +you know. There, there--don't cry! What will Mr. Evandale think of you? +Why, bless me, Evandale has gone! Well, well, you need not cry--I am not +angry at all--only stop crying--there's a good girl!" + +"Say you forgive me, uncle!" moaned Enid, heedless of his rather +disconnected remarks, which certainly had no bearing at all on the +dilemma forced upon her by the nature of Mrs. Meldreth's confession. + +"Forgive you, my dear? Why, of course I do! You're a little upset, are +you not? But you must not give way like this--it'll never do--never do," +said the General, patting her on the back benevolently. "There now--dry +your eyes, like a good girl; and I think I hear the carriage in the +lane, so we must be going. You've no idea how anxious about you poor +dear Flossy has been all the afternoon." + +He was pleased to see that her tears were checked. She raised herself +from his shoulder and brushed away the salt drops with which her cheeks +were wet; but she sobbed no longer, and she stood perfectly still and +calm. He was not a man of keen observation; and, if the cold white look +which suddenly overspread her countenance had any meaning, it was not +one that he was likely to read aright. + +A servant brought the intelligence that the carriage was at the door, +and shortly afterwards the Rector appeared. He had slipped away when +Enid burst into tears, hoping that she might confide to the General what +she had refused to confide to him; but a glance at the faces of the two +told him that his hopes had not been realised. The kindly complacency +which characterised the General's countenance was undisturbed, while +Enid's face bore the impress of mingled perplexity and despair. It +seemed to Maurice Evandale that each expression would have been changed +if Enid had bared her heart to her uncle. He did not know--he could not +even guess--what her secret was; but he instinctively detected the +presence of trouble, perhaps of danger. + +The two men parted very cordially; for the General was deterred from +seeing much of the Rector only by Mrs. Vane's dislike of him, and his +kindly feeling was all the more effusive because he had so few +opportunities of expressing it. Enid took leave of the Rector with a +look, a wan little smile which touched him inexpressibly. + +"You have part of my secret," it seemed to say. "Help me to bear the +burden; I am weak and need your aid." He vowed to himself that he would +do all that a man could do--all that she might ever ask. But Enid was +quite unconscious of having made that mute appeal. + +She lay back in a corner of the carriage, saying she was too tired to +talk. The General left her in peace, but took one of her little hands +and held it tenderly between his own. He could not imagine why it +trembled and fluttered so much, why once it seemed to try to drag itself +away. The poor girl must be quite overdone, he thought to himself; she +was far too kind, too tender-hearted to go about amongst the village +people and witness all their woes; she was not strong enough to do such +work--he must speak to Flossy about it. And, while he was thus thinking, +the carriage turned in at the park gates and presently halted at the +great front-door. The servants came forward to assist the General, who +was a little stiff in his joints now and then; and he, in his turn, gave +an arm to Enid as she alighted. The old butler looked at her curiously +as she entered and stood for a moment, dazed and bewildered, in the +hall. Miss Enid was always pale, but he had never seen her look so white +and scared. She must be ill, he decided, and especially when she shrank +so oddly as he deferentially mentioned his mistress' name. + +"My mistress hoped that you would come to her sitting room as soon as +you arrived, ma'am," he said. + +She made a strange answer. + +"No, no--I cannot--I cannot see her to-night!" + +The General was instantly at her side. + +"Enid, my dear, what do you mean? Your aunt wants to see you. She won't +be vexed with you--I'll make it all right with her," he added, in a +lower tone. "She has been terribly anxious about you. Come--I will take +you to her room." + +"Not just now, uncle--not to-night," said the girl, in a tone of mingled +pain and dread. "I--I can't bear it--I am ill--I must be alone now!" + +"My dear child, you must go to bed and rest. I'll explain it all to +Flossy. She will come to see you." + +"No, no--I can't see any one! Forgive me, uncle; I hardly know what I am +saying or doing. I shall be better to-morrow. Till then--till then at +least I must be left in peace!" + +She broke from his detaining hand with something so like violence, that +the General looked after her in wonder as she ran up-stairs. + +"She must be ill indeed!" he murmured thoughtfully to himself, as he +wended his way to his wife's boudoir, to make his report to Flossy. + +Meanwhile Enid's progress up-stairs was barred for a moment by her +little playmate and scholar, Dick, who ran out of his nursery to greet +her with a cry of joy. To his surprise and mortification, cousin Enid +did not stop to kiss him--did not even give him a pleasant word or +smile. With a stifled cry she disengaged her frock from his hand, +breaking from him as she had broken from the General just before, and +sped away to her own room. He heard her turn the key in her door, and, +for the first time realising the enormity of the woe that had come upon +him--the unprecedented fact that cousin Enid had been unkind--he lifted +up his voice and bursted into a storm of sobs, which would at any +ordinary time have brought her instantly to his side to comfort and +caress. + +But this time Enid either did not hear or did not heed. She was +crouching down by the side of her bed, with her face hidden in the +coverlet, and her hands pressed over her ears, as if to exclude all +sound of the world without; and between the difficult passionate sobs by +which her whole frame was shaken, one phrase escaped from her lips from +time to time--a phrase which would have been unintelligible enough to an +ordinary hearer, but would have recalled a long and shameful story to +the minds of Florence Vane and one other woman in the world. + +"Sabina Meldreth's child!" she muttered to herself not knowing what she +said. "How can I bear it? Oh, my poor uncle! Sabina Meldreth's child!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Hubert Lepel had promised to spend Christmas Day at Beechfield, but for +some unexplained reason he stayed away, sending at the last moment a +telegram which his sister felt to be unsatisfactory. Flossy did not +often exert herself to obtain a guest; but on this occasion she wrote a +rather reproachful letter to her brother, and begged him not to fail to +visit them on New Year's eve. "The General was disappointed," she wrote, +"and so was someone else." Hubert thought that she meant herself, felt a +thrill of wondering compassion, and duly presented himself at the Hall +on the thirty-first of December. + +He saw Flossy alone in her luxurious boudoir before anyone else knew of +his arrival. He thought her looking ill and haggard, and asked after her +health. To his surprise, the question made her angry. + +"Of course I am not well--I am never well," she answered; "but I am no +worse than usual. There is someone else in the house whose appearance +you had better enquire after." + +"You are fond of talking in riddles. Do you mean the General?" said +Hubert drily. + +"No, not the General," Florence answered, setting her lips. + +Hubert shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. He had not an +idea of what she meant; but when, shortly before dinner, he first saw +Enid, a light flashed across his mind--Flossy meant that the girl was +ill. He had certainly been rather dense and rather unkind, he thought to +himself, not to ask after her. And how delicate she was looking! What +was the matter with her? It was not merely that she was thinner and +paler, but that an indefinable change had come over her countenance. The +shadow that had always lurked in her sweet eyes seemed to have fallen at +last over her whole face, darkening its innocent candor, obscuring its +tranquil beauty; the look of truthfulness and of ignorance of evil had +gone. No child-face was it now--rather that of a woman who had been +forced to look evil in the face, and was repelled and sickened at the +sight. There was no joy in the eyes with which Enid now looked upon the +world. + +Hubert watched her steadily through the long and elaborate meal which +the General thought appropriate to New Year's eve, noting her weariness, +her languor, her want of interest in anything that went on, and could +not understand the change. Was this girl--sick apparently in body and +mind--the guileless maiden who had listened with such flattering +attention to the stories of his wanderings in foreign lands, when he +last came down to Beechfield Hall? He tried her with similar tales--they +had no interest for her now. She was silent, _distraite_, preoccupied. +Still gentle and sweet to every one, she was no longer bright; smiles +seemed to be banished for ever from her lips. + +She and Florence scarcely spoke to each other. The General did not seem +to notice this fact; but Hubert had not been half an hour in their +company before he recognised its force. They must have quarrelled, he +said to himself rather angrily--Flossy had probably tried to tyrannise, +and the girl had resented her interference. Flossy was a fool; he would +speak to her about it as soon as he had the opportunity, and get the +truth from her--forgetting for the moment that, if ever a man set +himself an impossible task, it was this one of getting the truth from +Flossy. + +Before dinner was ended, the sound of footsteps, the tuning of +instruments; the clearing of voices could be distinguished in the hall. +Hubert glanced at his host for explanation, which was speedily given. + +"It is the village choir," he said confidentially. "They come on +Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, and sing in the hall. When they have +finished, they all have a glass of wine and drink our healths before +they go down to supper in the kitchen. It's an old custom." + +"And a very disagreeable one," said Mrs. Vane calmly. "Your ears will be +tortured, Hubert, by the atrocious noise they make. With your +permission, Enid and I will go to the drawing-room;" and, glancing at +Enid, she rose from her chair. + +"My dear Flossy, I entreat of you to stay!" said the General. "You have +never gone away before--it would hurt their feelings immensely. I have +sent word for Dick to be brought down; I mean them to drink his health +too, bless the little man! It will be quite a slight to us all if you go +away." + +Flossy smiled ironically, but she looked at Enid in what Hubert thought +a rather peculiar way. He knew his sister's face very well, and he could +not but fancy that there was some apprehension in the glance. Enid sat +still, looking at the tablecloth before her. Her face had grown +perceptibly paler, but she did not move. A little spot of red suddenly +showed itself on each of Mrs. Vane's delicate cheeks. + +"Well, Enid, what do you say?" she asked, with less languor of utterance +than usual. "Do you wish to suffer a purgatory of discord? Come--let us +go to the drawing-room; nobody will notice whether we are here or not." + +"My dear, I said I wished you to stay," began the General anxiously; but +Florence only laughed a little wildly, and beat her fan once or twice +upon the table. + +"Come, Enid. We have had music enough, surely! You are coming?" + +"No, I am going to stay here," said the girl, without raising her eyes. +Her tone was exceedingly cold. + +Flossy bit her lip, laughed again, and sank back into her chair with an +air of would-be indifference. + +"If you stay, I suppose I must," she said lightly; but there was a +strange glitter in her narrowed eyes, and she bit her lip with her +little white teeth so strongly and so sharply as to draw the blood. + +"Here comes Dick," said the General, whose placidity was quite restored +by his wife's consent to stay--"here he comes! There, my boy--seen Uncle +Hubert yet? Go and kiss him, and then come back to me and I'll give you +some dessert." + +The fair-haired little fellow looked smaller and shyer than Hubert +remembered him. He had very little color in his face, but his eyes +lighted up joyfully when he saw the visitor, and he put his arms around +Hubert's neck with such evident satisfaction that his uncle felt quite +flattered. But, when Dick was perched upon his father's knee, and the +singers had struck up their first florid chant, he was surprised to find +that Enid had raised her blue eyes and was steadily regarding him with a +searching yet sorrowful look, which seemed as if it would explore the +inmost recesses of his soul. For various reasons Hubert felt that he +could not long endure that gaze. The best way of stopping it was to +return it, and therefore, although with an effort which was almost +agonising, he suddenly looked back into her eyes with a composure and +resolute boldness which caused her own very speedily to sink. The color +rose to her face, she gave a slight quickly-suppressed sigh, and she did +not look up again. Puzzled, troubled, vaguely suspicious, Hubert +wondered whether his calm reception of her gaze had silenced the doubt +of him, which he was nearly sure that he read in those sad blue eyes. He +knew that Flossy was watching him and watching her, and he envied the +General his guileless enjoyment of all that was going on, and little +Dick's innocent pleasure in what was to him a great and unwonted treat. + +When two songs had been sung, with much growling of the bass and a +general misconception of the functions of a tenor, with great scraping +of violin strings and much want of harmony amongst the 'cellos, the +General called the butler and told him to open the door. The dining-room +had two wide folding-doors opening into the hall, and, when they were +flung open, a motley crowd of village faces could be seen. A row of +shrill-voiced chorister boys, much muffled up in red comforters, stood +foremost; behind them came the singing men and the performers on +instruments--a diverse little crowd of men and youths. In the +background, some six or eight singing women and girls presented a +half-bold, half-shy appearance, as knowing that they were there on +sufferance only, and that the Rector had been doing his best to prevent +their going out at nights to sing with the village choir. But the +General had "backed them up;" he did not like the discontinuance of old +customs, and was inclined to think the Rector unduly strict. Accordingly +they stood in their accustomed places, but, as most of them felt, +probably for the last time on New Year's Eve. + +The faces of men and women and children, with one exception, were +wreathed in smiles; but that one exception was notable indeed. Hubert, +with his trained powers of keen observation, observed a lowering face +directly. It was that of tall young woman neatly dressed in black--a +young woman with fair hair curled over her forehead and rather prominent +blue eyes--a coarse-looking girl, he thought, in spite of her pale +coloring and sombre garments. Her brows were drawn together over her +eyes in an angry frown; she was biting her lip, much as Flossy had been +doing, and there was not a gleam of good humor or pleasure in her eyes. +Hubert wondered idly why she had come, when she seemed to enjoy her +occupation so very little. + +The opening of the doors was the signal for a volley of clapping, +stamping, and shouting. When this was over, the butler and his helpers +appeared with trays of well-filled glasses, which were taken by the +members of the choir, down to the smallest child present, with great +alacrity. The fair woman in the background was once more an +exception--she took no wine. + +The General filled his own glass and signed for Hubert to do the same +for the ladies. He then stood up and prepared to make his usual New +Year's Eve speech. But this time he did what he had never done +before--he lifted his little son on to the chair on which he had been +sitting, and made his oration with one arm round little Dick's slender +shoulders. To Hubert it seemed a pretty sight. Why did it give no +pleasure to Florence and to Enid? Florence's eyes glittered, and a spot +of blood was painfully conspicuous on her white lips; but Enid, sitting +silent with downcast eyes, was now unusually flushed. A student of +character might have said that, while Flossy seemed merely excited, +Enid--the timid, delicate, pure-minded Enid--looked ashamed. + +"My dear friends," the General began, "I'm very much obliged to you for +coming, you know--very much obliged. So are my wife and my niece, and my +little boy here--so far as he understands anything about it--very much +obliged to you all. You know I ain't much of a speech-maker--'actions +speak louder than words' was always my maxim"--great cheering--"and I +take leave to say that I think it is a very good maxim too"--tremendous +applause. "My friends, it's the end of one year, and it will soon be the +beginning of another. Let's hope that the new year will be better than +the last. I don't suppose I shall have many more to spend amongst you, +and that is why I wish to introduce--so to speak--my little boy to you. +As my son and heir, my friends, he will one day stand in the place which +I now occupy, and speak to you perhaps as I am speaking now. I can only +ask you to behave as well to him as you have always behaved to me. I +trust that he will prove himself worthy of his name and of his race, and +that generations yet unborn will bless the day when Beechfield Hall came +into the hands of a younger Richard Vane. My friends, if you drink my +health to-night, I shall ask you also to drink the health of my boy--to +wish him happiness, and that he may prove a better landlord, a better +magistrate, and a better man than ever I have been." + +There was a tumult of applause, mingled with cries of "No, no!"--"Can't +be better than you have been, sir!" and "Hurrah for the General!" + +Hubert, smiling with pleasure at his host's genial tone, was amazed at +the gloom which sat upon the brows of three persons in the +room--Florence, Enid, and the woman in black. There was no other +likeness between them, but that air of reserve and gravity made them +look as if some incommunicable bond, some similarity of feeling or +experience, held them back from the general hilarity which surrounded +them. + +"A happy New Year to you all, my friends!" said the General, in his +hearty voice. "Here's to your good healths! There, Dick, my man--drink +too, and say, 'A happy New Year to all of you!'" + +Little Dick took a sip from his father's glass, and gravely uplifted his +childish treble. + +"A happy New Year to all of you!" he said; and men and women alike broke +out into delighted response. + +"Same to you, sir, and many of them!" "Bless his little heart," one of +the women was heard to murmur, "he's just the image of his mamma!" But, +if she thought to give pleasure by this remark, she was far from +successful. Mrs. Vane threw so angry a glance in her direction that the +woman shrank back aghast; and the girl in black, who stood in the +background, laughed between her teeth. + +The function was over at last. The choir trooped away to the servants' +premises, where a substantial supper awaited them; the General kissed +little Dick, and strode away with him to his nurse; and Mrs. Vane rose +from the table with an air of studied weariness and disgust. + +"Thank Heaven, that is over!" she said. "I am tired to death of this +senseless old practice! If we have it another year, I shall say I am ill +and go to bed. Come, Enid--let us go to the drawing-room and have some +music." + +The girl rose and followed obediently; but she vouchsafed no answer to +Mrs. Vane's remarks. As the General had disappeared, Hubert thought that +he too might as well accompany the ladies to the drawing-room, +especially if Enid were about to play. But it did not seem that she was +inclined to do so. She sat down in the darkest corner of the room, and +leaned her head upon her hand. Flossy established herself in a luxurious +lounging-chair, and took up a novel. Hubert hesitated for a moment or +two, then went over to Enid's side. + +"Are we not to have any music to-night?" + +"Have you not had plenty?" she asked wearily. + +"Music! You call that music?" + +She did not answer; something in her voice, her attitude, seemed to show +that she was shedding tears. He was intensely sorry for her trouble, +whatever it might be; but he scarcely knew how to comfort her. + +"It would be good for us all if you would play," he said softly. "We +want consoling--strengthening--uplifting." + +"Ah, but music does not always do that!" she answered, with a new note +of passion in her voice. "When we are happy, music helps us--but not +when we are sad." + +"Why not?" said Hubert, more from the desire to make her talk than from +any wish to hear her views on that particular subject. + +But she spoke eagerly in reply, yet softly, so that her words should not +reach the ears of the silent, graceful, languid woman by the fire. + +"I can't tell why," she said; "but everything is different. Once music +delighted me, even when I was a little sad; but now it seems to harrow +my very soul. It brings thoughts into my mind of all the misery of the +world. If I hear music, I shed tears--I don't know why. Everything is +changed." + +"My dear child," said Hubert, "you are unhappy!" + +"Yes," she said slowly, with a pathetic tremor of the voice--"yes, I am +very--very unhappy." + +"Can I do nothing at all to make you happier?" he said. + +The question was left unanswered. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"My dear Hubert," said Mrs. Vane, "if you cannot see what is the matter +with Enid, you must be blind indeed!" + +"Why should I see what is the matter with her more than anybody else?" +asked Hubert, who was moving restlessly from place to place, now halting +before the window of his sister's sitting-room, now plucking a leaf from +one of the flowering plants in a gilded _étagère_, now teasing the white +cockatoo in its fine cage, or stirring up the spaniel with the tip of +his boot. All the teasing was good-naturedly done, and provoked no +rancour in the mind of bird or beast; but it showed an unwonted +excitement of feeling on his part, and was observed by his sister with a +slightly ironical smile. + +"If you will sit still for a little while, I will tell you perhaps," she +said; "but, so long as you stray round the room in that aimless manner, +I shall keep my communications to myself." + +"I beg your pardon; I did not know that I was disturbing you. Well," +said Hubert, seating himself resolutely in a chair near her own, and +devoting his attention apparently to the dissection of a spray of +scented geranium-leaf, "tell me what is the matter, and I will listen +discreetly. I am really concerned about Enid; she is neither well nor +happy." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"It is easy to be seen that she is not well," said Hubert, a very slight +smile curving his lips under the heavy dark moustache as he looked down +at the leaf which he was twisting in his hand; "and I think her +unhappiness is quite as obvious. What is it, Flossy? You ought to know. +You are the girl's chaperon, adviser, friend, or whatever you like to +call it; you stand in the place----" + +He stopped abruptly. He forgot sometimes that ghastly story of his +sister's earlier life; sometimes it came back to him with hideous +distinctness. At that moment he did not like to say to Flossy, "You +stand in her mother's place." And yet it was the truth. Had it been for +Enid's good or harm, he suddenly wondered, that Florence had become the +General's wife? + +"I understand what you mean," said Flossy quite sweetly, though there +was no very amiable look in her velvety-brown eyes. "I assure you that I +should be very glad to make more of a friend of Enid if she would allow +me; but she does not like me." + +"Instinct!" thought Hubert involuntarily, but he did not say it aloud. +With the extraordinary quickness, however, which Florence occasionally +showed, she divined the purport of his reflection almost at once. + +"You think, no doubt, that it is natural," she said; "but I do not agree +with you. Enid has no great penetration; she has never been able to read +my character--which, after all, is not so bad as you imagine." + +"I do not imagine anything about it; I do not think it bad," Hubert +interposed rather hurriedly. "You have changed very much. But have we +not agreed to let old histories alone?" + +"I did not intend to revive them. I meant only to assure you that Enid +has met with the tenderest care and guidance from me--as far, at least, +as it lay in me to give it to her, and whenever she would accept it." + +"You make two very important reservations." + +"I know I do, but I cannot help it. I was never devotedly fond of +children, and I was once Enid's governess. I do not think that she ever +forgets that fact." + +"Well, come to the point," said Hubert, rather impatiently. "What is the +matter with her now?" + +Florence laughed softly, and eyed him over her fan. She always used a +fan, even in the depth of winter--and indeed her boudoir was so +luxuriously warm and fragrant that it did not there seem out of place. +She was wearing a loose tea-gown of peacock-blue plush over a satin +petticoat of the palest rose-color--a daring combination which she had +managed to harmonise extremely well--and the fan which she now held to +her mouth was of pale rose-colored feathers. As Hubert looked at her and +waited for his answer, he was struck by two things--first by the +choiceness and beauty of her surroundings, and secondly by the fatigued +expression of her eyes, which were set in hollows of purple shadows, and +almost veiled by lids which had the faintly reddened tint which comes of +wakefulness at night. + +"I shall next ask what is the matter with you," he said. "You really do +not look well, Florence!" + +"Do I not?" She laid down her fan, took up a hand-glass set in silver +from a table at her side, and studied her face in the mirror for a few +seconds with some intentness. "You are right," she said, when she put it +down; "I am growing hatefully old and haggard and ugly. What can one do? +Would a winter in the South give me back my good looks, do you think? +Perhaps I had better consult a doctor when I go up to town. I am not so +old yet that I need lose all my 'beauty,' as people used to call it, am +I?" + +"Why do you care so much?" Hubert asked. He fancied that there was +something deeper in her anxiety than the mere vanity of a pretty woman +whose youth was fast fleeting away. + +"Why does every woman care? For my husband's sake, of course," she +answered, with a slight laugh, but a look of carking care and pain in +her haggard eyes. "If I leave off looking pretty and bright, how am I to +know that he will care for me any longer? And, if not----" + +"If not! You are a mystery to me, Florence; you never professed before +to trouble yourself about your husband's love." + +"If I am a mystery, you are a perfect baby, my dear boy--I might almost +say a perfect fool--in some respects. If he ceases to love me, he--don't +you know that he may still leave me penniless? I had no settlements." + +Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she said the words. + +"Is that it?" said Hubert coldly. "I did not give you credit for so much +worldly wisdom, Flossy. If that is your view of the case, I wonder that +you do not pay a little more attention to the General's wishes +sometimes. I have seen you treat him with very little consideration." + +"He is so wearisome! One cannot always be on one's good behavior," +Flossy murmured; "and, as long as one looks nice and gives him a word or +two now and then, just to keep him in good-humor----" + +"So long, you think, he will be kind to you? Florence, you do not +understand the General's really noble nature. He is incapable of +unkindness to any living soul--least of all capable of it to you, whom +he loves so dearly. Do try to appreciate him a little more! He is +devoted to you, both as his wife and as the mother of his child." He +could not tell why she turned her head aside with a sharp gesture of +annoyance. + +"The child--always the child!" she exclaimed. "I wish I had never had a +child at all!" + +"We are straying from the point," said her brother coldly; "and we can +do no good by discussing your relations with your husband. I want to +know--as you say you can tell me--why Enid looks so ill." + +Flossy took up her fan and began to examine the tips of the feathers. + +"There is only one reason," she said slowly, "why a girl ever looks like +that. Only one thing turns a girl of seventeen into a drooping, +die-away, lackadaisical creature, such as Enid is just now." + +"Speak kindly of her, at any rate," said Hubert. "She is a woman like +yourself, and there is only one interpretation to be put upon your +words." + +"Naturally. You, as a novelist, dramatist, and poet, must know it well +enough," said his sister calmly. "Well, remember that you have insisted +on my telling you. Enid is in love. That is all. Nothing to make such a +fuss about it, is it?" + +Hubert was silent for a minute or two. His brow was contracted, as if +with vexation or deep thought. Then he said abruptly-- + +"I suppose it's that good-looking parson in the village. There's no +other man whom she seems to know so well. I cannot say that you have +taken very great care of her, Florence." + +"Are you really blind, or are you pretending?" said Mrs. Vane, looking +at him with calm curiosity, "You are not quite such a fool as you make +yourself out to be, are you? My dear Hubert, are you not aware that you +are a singularly handsome and attractive man, and that you have laid +siege to the poor child's heart ever since your first arrival here last +autumn?" + +Hubert started from his seat as if he had been stung. + +"Impossible!" he cried. + +"Not at all impossible. She has seen few men in her short life--she has +been very carefully guarded, in spite of your sneer at my want of +caution--and the attentions of a man like yourself were quite new to +her. What could you expect?" + +"Attentions!" groaned Hubert. "I never paid her any attentions, save as +a cousin and a friend." + +"Exactly; but she did not understand." + +There was a short silence. He stood with his arm on the mantelpiece, +looking through the window at the snow-covered landscape outside. His +face had turned pale, and his lips were firmly set. Presently he said, +in a low tone-- + +"You must be mistaken. Surely she can never have let you know what her +feelings are on such a point? You say that she does not confide in you. +How can you know?" + +"There are other ways of reading a girl's heart as well as a man's +coarse way of having everything in black and white," said Flossy +composedly. "I am sure of it. She is in love with you, and that is why +she looks so ill." + +"It must not be! You must let her know--gently, but decidedly--that I am +not the man for her--that there is an unsurmountable barrier between +us." + +"What is it? Are you married already?" + +"Florence"--there was a sound of anguish in his voice, "how could I +marry a girl whose father I----" + +"Hush, hush! For mercy's sake, be quiet! You should never say such +things--never think them even. Walls have ears sometimes, and spoken +words cannot be recalled. Never say that, even to me. At the same time, +I do not see the obstacle." + +"Florence! Well, I might expect it from you. You have married Sydney +Vane's brother!" + +She did not wince. She sat steadily regarding him over the tips of her +rose-colored feather fan. + +"And you," she said, "will marry Sydney Vane's daughter." + +"God keep me from committing such a sin!" + +"Hubert, this is mere sentimental folly," said his sister, with some +earnestness. + +"We have both made up our minds that the past is dead--why do you at +every moment rake up its ashes?" + +"It is in some ways unfortunate that Enid should have chosen to love +you; but, as the matter stands, I cannot see that you have any other +choice than to marry her." + +"What on earth makes you say so?" + +"I thought that you would go through a good deal of unpleasantness for +the sake of saving her from trouble. You have said as much." + +"I have no right to save her from anything. She must forget me." + +"That is sheer nonsense--cowardly nonsense too!" said Mrs. Vane. "If +Enid were on the brink of a precipice, would you hesitate to draw her +back? I tell you that she is breaking her heart for you, and that, if +you are free to marry, and not inordinately selfish, your only way out +of the difficulty is to marry her." + +"She would get over it." + +"No; she would die as her mother died--of a broken heart." + +"You can speak so calmly, remembering who killed her mother--for what +you and I are responsible!" + +"Look, Hubert--if you cannot speak calmly yourself, you had better not +speak at all. You seem to think that I am cold and callous. I suppose I +am; and yet I am more anxious in this matter to keep Enid from grief and +pain than you seem to be. I do not like to see her looking pale and +sad. I would do anything within my power to help her, and I thought--I +thought that you would do the same. It seems that you shrink from the +task." + +"It is so horrible--so unnatural! How can I ask her to be mine--I, with +my hands stained----" + +"Hush! I will not have you say those words! We both know--if we are to +speak of the past--that it was an honorable contest enough--a fair +fight--a meeting such as no man of honor could refuse. You would have +fallen if he had not. It is purely morbid, this brooding over the +consequences of your actions. Everybody who knew the circumstances would +have said that you were in the right. I say it myself, although at my +own cost. To marry Enid now because she loves you will be the only way +you can take to repair the harm that was done in the past and to shield +her for the future." + +It was not often that Florence spoke so long or so energetically; and +Hubert, in spite of his revolt of feeling at the prospect held out to +him, was impressed by her words. After a few moments' silence, he sat +down again and began to argue the matter with her from every possible +point of view. He told her it was probable that Enid did not know her +own mind; that she would be miserable if she married a man who could not +love her; that the whole world would cry shame on him if it ever learned +the circumstances of her father's death; that Enid herself would be the +first to reproach him, and would indeed bitterly hate him if she ever +knew. + +"If she ever knew--if the world ever knew!" said Florence scornfully. +Hitherto she had been very quiet and let her brother say his say. "As if +she or the world were ever going to know! There is no way in which the +truth can be known unless one of us tells it; and I ask you, is that a +thing that either of us is very likely to do? It would mean social ruin +for us--utter and irretrievable ruin! If we only hold our tongues, Enid +and the world will never know." + +"That is true," he answered moodily; and then he sat so long in one +position, with his arms crossed on his breast; and his eyes fixed on +vacancy, that Florence asked him with some curiosity of what he was +thinking. + +"I was wondering," he said, "whether that poor wretch Westwood found his +undeserved punishment more galling than I sometimes find the bonds of +secrecy and falsehood and dishonor that bind me now. He at any rate has +gained his freedom; but I am in bondage still. I have my sentence--a +life sentence--to work out." + +"He is free now, certainly," Florence answered, with an odd intonation +of her voice; "so I do not think that you need trouble yourself about +him. Think of Enid rather, and of her needs." + +"Free? Yes--he is dead," said Hubert quickly, replying to something in +her tone rather than to her words. "He died as I told you--some time +ago." + +"You read it in the newspaper?" + +"Yes." + +"And you never saw that next day the report of his death was +contradicted?" + +"Florence, what do you mean?" + +"You went away from England just then with a mind at ease, did you not? +But I was here, with nothing to do but to think and brood and read; and +I read more than that. There were two men named Westwood at Portland, +and the one who died--as was stated in next day's paper--was not the one +we knew." + +"And he is in prison all this time? Don't you see that that makes my +guilt the worse--brings back all the intolerable burden, renders it +simply impossible that I should ever make an innocent girl happy?" His +voice was hoarse, and the veins upon his forehead stood out like knotted +cords. + +"Sit down," said Flossy calmly, "and listen to me. I have an odd story +to tell you. The man of whom we speak managed to do what scarcely +another convict has done in recent times--he escaped. He nearly killed +the warder in his flight, but not quite--so that counts for nothing. It +is rumored that he reached America, where he is living contentedly in +the backwoods. I can show you the newspaper account of his escape. I +thought," she added a little cynically, "that it might relieve your mind +to hear of it; but it does not seem to do so. I fancied that you would +be glad. Would you rather that he were dead?" + +"No, no; Heaven knows that I rejoice in his escape!" cried her brother, +sitting down again with his forehead bowed upon his clasped hands and +his elbows on his knees. "I have blood-guiltiness enough already upon my +soul. Glad? I am so glad, Florence, that I can almost dare to thank God +that Westwood is alive and has escaped. I--I shall never escape!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Enid had the look of a veritable snow-queen thought Hubert, as he came +upon her a day or two later in a little _salon_ opening out of the +drawing-room, and found her gazing out upon a landscape of which all the +lines were blurred in falling snow. She was dressed in a white woollen +gown, which was confined at her waist by a simple white ribbon, and had +white fur at the throat and wrists. + +The dead-white suited her delicate complexion and golden hair; she had +the soft and stainless look of a newly fallen snowflake, which to touch +were to destroy. Hubert almost felt as if he ought not to speak to one +so far removed from him--one set so high above him by her innocence and +purity. And yet he was bound to speak. + +"You like the snow?" he began. + +"Yes--as much as I like anything." + +"At your age," said Hubert slowly, "you should like everything." + +"You think I am so very young!" + +"Well--seventeen." + +"Oh, but I don't feel young at all!" the girl said half wearily, half +bitterly. "I seem to have lived centuries! You know, cousin Hubert, +there are very few girls of my age who have had all the trouble that I +have had." + +"You have had a great deal--you have been the victim of a tragedy," said +Hubert gloomily, not able to deny the truth of her remark, even while he +was forced to remember that many other girls of Enid's age had far more +real and tangible sorrows than she. The vision of a girl pleading with +him to find her work flashed suddenly across his mind; her words about +London Bridge--"her last resource"--occurred to him; and his common +sense told him that after all Enid's position, sad and lonely though it +was, could scarcely be called so pitiable as that of Cynthia West. But +it was not his part to tell her so; his own share in producing Enid's +misfortunes sealed his lips. + +What he said however was almost too direct an allusion to the past to be +thought sympathetic by Enid. A very natural habit had grown up at +Beechfield Hall of never mentioning her father's fate; and this silence +had had the bad result of making her brood over the matter without +daring to reveal her thoughts. The word "tragedy" seemed to her almost +like a profanation. It sent the hot blood rushing into her face at once. +Enid's organisation was peculiarly delicate and sensitive; her knowledge +of the publicity given to the details of her father's death was torture +to her. She was glad of the seclusion in which the General lived, +because when she went into Whitminster, she would hear sometimes a +rumor, a whispered word--"Look--that is the daughter of Sydney Vane who +was murdered a few years ago! Extraordinary case--don't you remember +it?"--and the consciousness that these words might be spoken was +unbearable to her. Hubert had touched an open wound somewhat too +roughly. + +He saw his mistake. + +"Forgive me for speaking of it," he said. "I fancied that you were +thinking of the past." + +"Oh, no, no--not of that!" cried Enid, scarcely knowing what she said. + +"Of other troubles?" Hubert queried very softly. It was natural that he +should think of what Flossy had said to him quite recently. + +"Yes--of other things." + +"Can you not tell me what they are?" he said gently, taking one of her +slight hands in his own. + +"Oh, no--not you!" + +She was thinking of him as Florence's brother, possibly even as +Florence's accomplice in a crime; but he attributed her refusal to a +very different motive. Tell him her troubles? Of course she could not do +so, poor child, when her troubles came from love of him. He was not a +coxcomb, but he believed what Flossy had said. + +"Not me? You cannot tell me?" he said, drawing her away from the cold +uncurtained windows with his hand still on hers. "And can I do nothing +to lighten your trouble, dear?" + +She looked at him doubtfully. + +"I--don't--know." + +"Enid, tell me." + +"Oh, no!" she cried. "I can't tell you--I can't tell any one--I must +bear it all alone!"--and then she burst into tears, not into noisy sobs, +but into a nearly silent passion of grief which went to the very heart +of the man who stood at her side. She drew her hand away from his and +laid it upon the mantelpiece, which she crept to and leaned against, +sobbing miserably meanwhile, as if she needed the support that solid +stone could give. + +Her slender figure, in its closely-fitting white gown, shook from head +to foot. It was as much as Hubert could do to restrain himself from +putting his arm round it, drawing it closely to him, and silencing the +sobs with kisses. But his feeling was that of a grown-up person to a +child whom he wanted to comfort and protect, not that of a man to the +woman whom he loved. He waited therefore silently, with a fixed look of +mingled pain and determination upon his face, until she had grown a +little calmer. When at last her figure ceased to vibrate with sobs, he +came closer and put his hand caressingly upon her shoulder. + +"Enid," he said, "I have asked you before if I could make you happier; +you never answered the question. Will you tell me now?" + +She raised herself from her drooping attitude, and stood with averted +face; but still she did not speak. + +"Perhaps you hardly know what I mean. I am willing--anxious--to give my +whole life to you, Enid, my child. If you can trust yourself to my +hands, I will take such care of you that you shall never know trouble or +sorrow again, if care can avert it. Give me the right to do this for +you, dear. You shall not have cause to repent your trust. Look at me, +Enid, and tell me that you trust me." + +Why that insistence on the word "trust"? Was it--strange +contradiction--because he felt himself so utterly unworthy of her +confidence? He said not a word of love. + +Enid looked round at him at last. Her gentle face was pale, her lashes +were wet with tears, but the traces of emotion were not unbecoming to +her. Even to Hubert's cold eyes, cold and critical in spite of himself, +she was lovelier than ever. + +"I want to trust you--I do trust you," she said; but there were trouble +and perplexity in her voice. "I don't know what to do. You would not let +me be deceived, Hubert? You would not let dear uncle be tricked and +cheated into thinking--thinking--by Flossy, I mean---- Oh, I can't tell +you! If you knew what I know, you would understand." + +Hubert had never been in greater danger of betraying his own secret. +Knowing of no other, his first instinctive thought was that Enid had +learnt the true story of her father's death and Flossy's share in +bringing it about; but a second thought, quickly following the first, +showed him that in that case she would never have said that she wanted +to trust him, or that he would not let her and her uncle be deceived. +No, it could not be that. But what was it? + +By a terrible effort he kept himself from visibly blenching at her +words. He stood still holding her hands, feeling himself a villain to +the very lowest depths of his soul, but looking quietly down at her, +with even a slight smile on the lips that--do what he would--had turned +pale--the ruddy firelight glancing on his face prevented this change of +color from being seen. + +"But how can I understand," he said, "when I have not the slightest +notion of what you mean?" + +"You have not?" + +"Not the least in the world." + +She crept a little closer to him. + +"You are not sheltering Flossy from punishment?" + +It was what he had been doing for the past eight years. + +"Good heavens, Enid," he cried, losing his self-possession a little for +the first time, "what on earth can you possibly mean?" + +She thought that he was indignant, and she hastened tremblingly to +appease his apparent wrath. + +"I don't mean to accuse you or her," she said; "I have said a great deal +too much. I can trust you, Hubert--oh, I am sure I can! Forgive me for +the moment's doubt." + +"If you have not accused me, you have accused my sister. I must know +what you mean." + +"Forgive me, cousin Hubert! I can't tell you--even you." + +"But, my dear Enid, if you said so much, you must say more." + +"I will never say anything again!" she said, her face quivering all over +like that of a troubled child. + +He loosed her hands and looked at her steadily for a moment; he had more +confidence in his power over her now. + +"I think you should make me understand what you mean, dear. Do you +accuse my sister of anything?" + +She looked frightened. + +"No, indeed I do not. I don't know what I am saying, Hubert. Tell me one +thing. Do you think we should ever do wrong--or what seems to be +wrong--for the sake of other people's happiness? Clergymen and good +people say we should not; but I do not know." + +"Enid, you have not been consulting that parson at Beechfield about it?" + +"Not exactly. At least"--the ingenuous face changed a little--"we talked +on that subject, because he knew that I was in trouble, but I did not +tell him anything. He said one should always tell the truth at any +cost." + +"And theoretically one should do so," said Hubert, trying to soothe her, +yet feeling himself a corrupter of her innocent candor of mind as he +went on; "but practically it would not be always wise or right. When you +marry, Enid"--he drew her towards him--"you can confess to your husband, +and he will absolve you." + +"Perhaps that is what would be best," she answered softly. + +"To no man but your husband, Enid." + +She drew a quick little sigh. + +"You can trust me?" he said, in a still lower voice. + +"Oh, yes," she said--"I am sure I can trust you! It was only for a +moment--you must not mind what I said. You will it set all right when +you know." + +He was silent, seeing that she had grasped his meaning more quickly than +he had anticipated, and had, in fact, accepted him, quite simply and +confidently, as her husband that was to be. Her child-like trust was at +that moment very bitter to him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead +as a father might have done. + +"My dear Enid," he said, "we must remember that you are very young. I +feel that I may be taking advantage of your inexperience--as if some day +you might reproach me for it." + +"I told you I did not feel young," she said gently; "but perhaps I +cannot judge. Do what you please." + +The listlessness in her voice almost angered Hubert. + +"Do you not love me then?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes--I always loved you!" said the girl. But there was no look of a +woman's love in her grave eyes. "You were always so kind to me, dear +cousin Hubert; and indeed I feel as if I could trust you absolutely. You +shall decide for me in everything." + +There was certainly relief in her tone; but Hubert had looked for +something more. + +"I have been wanting to speak to you for several days," he said, "but I +have never had the opportunity before; and I must tell you, dear, that I +spoke to the General before I spoke to you." + +"Oh," Enid's fair face flushed a little. "I thought--I did not know that +you intended--when you began to speak to me first, I mean----" + +Hubert could not help smiling. + +"I understand; you thought I spoke on a sudden impulse of affection, +longing to comfort and help you. So I did. But that is not incompatible +with previous thought and preparation, is it? Surely my care for you--my +love for you--would be worth less as a sudden growth than as a plant of +long and hardy growth?" He groaned inwardly at the subterfuge contained +in the last few words, but he felt that it was unavoidable. + +Enid looked up and gave him an answering smile. + +"Oh, yes, I see!" she said hurriedly; but there was some little +dissatisfaction in her mind, she did not quite know why. + +Even her innocent heart dimly discerned the fact that Hubert was not her +ideal lover. His wooing had scarcely been ardent in tone; and to find +that it had all been discussed, mapped out, as it were, and formally +permitted by the General, and perhaps by his wife, gave her a sudden +chill. For Flossy's interpretation of Enid's melancholy was by no means +a true one. She had dreamed a little of Hubert in a vague romantic way, +as young girls are apt to do when a new-comer strikes their fancy; but +she had not set her heart upon him at all in the way which Florence had +led her brother to believe. There was certainly danger lest she should +do so now. + +"The General says," Hubert went on more lightly, "that you cannot be +expected to know your own mind for a couple of years. What do you say to +that?" + +"I think that uncle Richard might know me better," said the girl, +smiling. She was still standing on the hearthrug, and Hubert put his arm +round her as he spoke. + +"And he will not consent even to an engagement until you are eighteen, +Enid. But he did not forbid me to speak to you and ask you whether you +cared for me, and if you would wait two years." + +"Oh, why should it be so long?" the girl cried out; and then she turned +crimson, seeing the meaning that Hubert attached to her words. "I only +mean," she said, "that I wanted to tell you everything that was in my +mind just now." + +"And can't you do it now, little darling?" + +"No, not now." + +"I must wait for that, must I? We must see if we can soften the +General's obdurate heart, my dear. But you are not unhappy now?" + +To his surprise, the shadow rose again in her beautiful eyes, the lips +fell into their old mournful lines. + +"I don't know," she said sadly. "I ought not to be; but after all +perhaps this does not make things any better. Oh, I wish I could forget +what I know--what I have heard!" + +"It is about Flossy?" said Hubert, in a whisper. + +She hid her face, upon his shoulder without a word. + +"My poor child, I am half inclined to think that I can guess. I know +that Flossy's life has not been all that it should have been. No, don't +tell me--I will not ask you again unless you wish to confide in me." + +"You said you did not know." + +"I do not know--exactly; but I suspect; and, my dear Enid, we can do +nothing. Make your mind easy on that point. Our highest duty now is to +hold our tongues." + +He thought, naturally enough, that she had heard of Florence's secret +interviews with Sydney Vane--so much, he was certain, even the +village-people knew--that in her visits to the cottages she had heard +some story of this kind, and had been distressed--that was all. + +"Do you really think so?" said Enid, clinging to him. She was only too +thankful to get rid of the responsibility of judging for herself. "You +do not think that uncle Richard ought to know?" + +"My dear girl, what an idea! Certainly not! Do you want to break the old +man's heart?" + +"He is very fond of little Dick," murmured Enid, rather to herself than +to him. + +He did not lay hold of the clue that her words might have given him if +he had attended to them more closely. He went on encouragingly-- + +"And of his wife too. No, dear, we cannot wreck his happiness by +scruples of that kind. We must endure our knowledge--or our +suspicions--in silence. Besides, what you have heard may not be true." + +"Do you think so, Hubert?" she said wistfully. + +"It is better surely to take a charitable view, is it not?" + +"Oh, thank you! That is just what I wanted!" she said, a new brightness +stealing into her eyes and cheeks. "Yes, I am sure that I must have been +hard and uncharitable. I will try to think better things. And, oh, +Hubert, you have really made me happy now!" + +"That is what I wanted," said Hubert, with a sigh, as for the first time +he pressed his lips to hers. "Your happiness, Enid, is all that I wish +to secure." + +He was in earnest; and it did not seem hard to him that in trying to +secure her happiness he had perhaps lost his own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +"A Grand Morning Concert will be given on Thursday, June 25th, at +Ebury's Rooms, by the pupils of Madame della Scala. By kind permission +of Mr. Mapleson, the following _artistes_ will appear." Then followed a +list of well known operatic vocalists, also Miss This, That, and the +other--"and Miss Cynthia West." The last half-dozen names were not as +yet famous. + +The above intimation, together with much detail concerning time, place, +and performers, was printed on a very large gilt-edged card; and two +such cards, enclosed in a thick square envelope, lay upon Hubert Lepel's +breakfast-table some months after the New Year's holiday which he had +spent at Beechfield Hall. + +He looked at them with an amused, interested smile, and read the words +more than once--then, with equal interest, perused a programme of the +concert, which had also been enclosed. + +"So it is to-day, is it?" he said to himself, as he finished his cup of +coffee. "She is late in sending me a ticket; I shall scarcely be able to +nail any of the critics for her now. I would have got Gurney to write +her a notice if I had known earlier. Probably that is the very reason +why she did not let me know--independent young woman that she is! I'll +go and see what I can do for her even at the eleventh hour. She shall +have a good big bouquet for her _début_, at any rate!" + +He sallied forth, making his way to his club, where he found occasion to +remark to more than one of his friends that Madame della Scala's concert +would be worth going to, and that a young lady who had formerly been +known in the theatrical world--Miss Cynthia West--would make her _début_ +as a public singer that afternoon. Meeting Marcus Gurney, the well-known +musical critic of an influential paper, soon afterwards, he pressed upon +him his spare ticket for the concert, and gave him to understand that it +would be a really good-natured thing if he could turn in at Ebury's +Rooms between three and four, and write something for the _Scourge_ that +would not injure that very promising _débutante_, Miss West. Marcus +Gurney laughed and consented, and Hubert went off well pleased; he had +at least stopped the mouth of the bitterest critic in London, he +reflected--for, though Gurney was personally one of the most amiable of +men, he could be very virulent in print. Then he went off to Covent +Garden, and selected two of the loveliest bouquets he could find--one, +of course, for Cynthia, and one for her teacher, Madame della Scala. For +Hubert was wise in his generation. + +He had seen very little of Cynthia West during the last few months, and +had not heard her sing at all. Shortly after his second interview with +her, he had sent her to Italy for the winter, so that she might have a +course of lessons from the most celebrated teacher in Milan. He was +gratified to hear that there had been at least nothing to unlearn. Old +Lalli had done his work very thoroughly; he had trained her voice as +only a skilled musician could have done; and, on hearing who had been +her teacher, the great Italian _maestro_ had thrown up his hands and +asked her why she came to him. + +"You will have no need of me," he had said to her. "Lalli--did you not +know?--he was once our _primo tenore_ in opera! He would have been +great--ah, great--if he had not lost his voice in an expedition to your +terrible England! So he stayed there and played the violon, did he? And +he taught you to sing with your mouth round and close like that--my own +method! La, la, la, la! We shall see you at La Scala before we have +done!" + +But, when the spring came, and he himself was about to fulfil an +engagement in Berlin, he handed Cynthia over to the care of Madame della +Scala, who was then going to England, and advised her to sing in +public--even to take a professional engagement--if she had the chance, +and, if not, to spend another winter under his tuition in Milan. So +Cynthia came back to London in May, and lived with Madame della Scala, +and was heard by nobody until the day of the annual semi-private +concert, which Madame della Scala loved to give for the benefit of +herself and her best pupils. + +Hubert reached the rooms at three precisely. He might easily have sent +in his name and obtained a little chat with Cynthia beforehand in the +artists' room; but he did not care to do that. He wanted to see her +first; he was curious to know whether her new experiences had taken +effect upon her, and how she would bear herself before her judges. He +had seen her once only since her return from Italy, and then but for a +few minutes in the society of other people. He could not tell whether +she was changed or not; and he was curious to know. + +She had written to him from Italy several times--letters like herself, +vivacious, sparkling, full of spirit and humor. He knew her very well +from these letters, and he was inclined to wish that he knew her better. +He would see how she looked before she knew that he was present; it +would be amusing to note whether she found him out or not. + +Thus he argued to himself; and then, with perverse want of logic, after +saying that he did not wish her to know that he was there, he sent his +bouquets to the green-room for teacher and pupil alike, and compromised +matters by attaching his card to Madame's bouquet only, and not to that +which he sent to Cynthia West--a feeble compromise certainly, and +entirely ineffectual. + +He seated himself on a green-colored bench on the right-hand side of the +room, and looked around him at the audience. It consisted largely of +mothers and other relatives of the pupils, some of whom came from the +most aristocratic houses in England--largely also of critics, and of +musical persons with flowing hair and note-books. Hubert knew Madame +della Scala's reputation; it was here that the _impresario_ on the watch +for new talent always came--it was here that the career of more than one +famous English singer had been successfully begun. It was of some +importance therefore that Cynthia should sing her best and do her utmost +to impress her audience. + +Having looked about him and consulted his programme, Hubert glanced at +the platform, and was aware that a little comedy was being enacted for +the benefit of all persons present. + +Madame della Scala was first led forward by a bevy of admiring pupils, +Cynthia not being one, and made her bow to the audience with an air of +gracious humility that was very effective indeed. She was a dark, thin +little woman who had once been handsome, and was still striking in +appearance. She had been an operatic singer in days gone by, and had +taken up the profession of a teacher only when her vocal powers began to +fail. In demi-toilette, with ribbons and medals adorning her square-cut +bodice, long gloves on her hands, and a fan between her fingers, the +little lady curtseyed, smiled, gesticulated, in a charmingly foreign +way, which procured for her the warmest plaudits of the audience. One +felt that, though she herself was not about to perform in person, she +considered herself responsible for the efforts of her pupils, and made +herself fascinating on their behalf. + +A large screen was placed on one side of the platform, and a grand piano +nearly filled the other side, leaving a central space for the +performers. At first Hubert had wondered why the screen was there. Now +he saw its use. Madame della Scala seated herself in a chair behind it, +with her face to the singers--evidently under the delusion that her +figure was completely hidden from the audience, and that she could, +unseen, direct, stimulate, or reprove the singers by movement of head, +hands, handkerchief, and fan. The manoeuvre would have been successful +enough, but for the fact that the back of the platform was entirely +filled with a sheet of looking-glass, and that in this mirror her +gestures and facial contortions were all distinctly visible to the +greater number of the listeners. Hubert found great satisfaction in +watching the different expressions of her countenance; he told himself +that Madame's face was the most interesting part of the performance. How +sweetly she smiled at her favorite pupils from the shadow of the screen! +How she nodded her head and beat time with her fingers to the songs they +sang! How, in moments of uncontrollable excitement, she waved her hands +and swayed her body and gesticulated with her fan! It was a comedy in +dumb show. And, as each girl-singer, after performing her part and +curtseying to the audience, passed her teacher on the way to the +artists' room, Madame seized her impulsively by both hands, and drew her +down to impress a kiss of satisfaction on the performer's forehead. The +woman's old charm as an actress, the Southern grace and excitability and +warmth, were never more evident than when reflected in Madame's +movements behind the screen that afternoon, and visible to the +audience--did she know it after all?--only in a looking-glass. + +The humor of the situation impressed Hubert, and made him glad that he +had come. The whole scene had something foreign, something half +theatrical about it. An English teacher of music would have effaced +herself--would have shaken with nervousness and scowled at her pupils. +Madame had no idea of effacing herself at all. She was benignity, +composure, affability incarnate. The girls were all her "dear angels," +who were helping to make her concert a success. When, at a preconcerted +signal in the middle of the afternoon, she was led forward by one of her +most distinguished pupils, and presented by a group of adoring girls +with a great basket of flowers, her whole face beamed with satisfaction, +her medals and orders and brooches twinkled responsively as she +curtseyed, waved her fan, spread out her lace and silken draperies, and +slipped gracefully back into the screen's obscurity once more. Only one +little _contretemps_ occurred to mar the harmony of the scene. Just as +Madame had returned to her seat, the screen, displaced a little by her +movement, fell over, dragging down flower-pots and ferns, and almost +upsetting Madame herself. The bevy of girls rushed to pick her up, +gentlemen and attendants came to the rescue, and in a few moments Madame +was reinstated, a little shaken and flustered, but amiable as ever, the +screen was replaced more securely, and the concert proceeded with +decorum. + +But where all this time was Cynthia? She had not joined the cluster of +girls who presented the flowers to Madame, or run to pick her up when +the screen fell down. Madame was reserving Cynthia for a great effect. +She did not appear until nearly the end of the first part of the +concert, when she came on to sing an Italian aria. + +"More beautiful than ever!" was Hubert's first reflection. "More +beautiful than I remembered her! Is she nervous? No, I think not. Her +face will take the town if her voice does not." And then he settled +himself to listen. He was far more nervous than Cynthia herself or than +Madame della Scala, who was keeping time to the music with her fan +behind the screen. + +Cynthia's beauty, of an unusually striking order, was heightened by an +excitement which lent new color to her cheeks, new fire to her eyes. She +was dressed in very pale yellow--white had been rejected as not so +becoming to her dark skin as a more decided tint--and she wore a cluster +of scarlet flowers on her left shoulder. She looked like some brilliant +tropical bird or butterfly--a thing of light and color, to whom sunlight +was as essential as food. Hubert felt vain of his _protégée_ as he heard +the little murmur of applause that greeted her appearance. + +But the applause that followed her singing swamped every other +manifestation of approval. Cynthia surpassed herself. Her voice and her +method of singing were infinitely improved; the sweet high notes were +sweeter than ever, and were full of an exquisite thrill of feeling which +struck Hubert as something new in her musical development. There was no +doubt about her success. No other singer had roused the audience to such +a pitch of excitement and admiration. + +Hubert glanced at Madame della Scala. She was sitting with her hands +folded, a placid smile of achievement upon her lips; she had produced +all the impression that she wished to make, and for once was completely +satisfied. Hubert read it in her look. + +Cynthia was curtseying to the audience, when, for the first time, Hubert +caught her eye--or rather it was for the first time only that she +allowed him to see that she observed him; as a matter of fact, she had +been conscious of his presence ever since she entered the concert-room. +She flashed a quick smile at him, bowed openly in his direction, and--as +if by accident--touched the belt of her dress. He was quick enough to +see what she meant; some flowers from his bouquet were fastened at her +waist. He half rose from his seat, involuntarily, and almost as if he +wanted to join her on the platform, then sat down again, vexed at his +own movement, and blushing like a schoolboy. He did not know what had +come to him, he told himself; for a moment he had been quite embarrassed +and overwhelmed by this girl's bright glance and smile. She was +certainly very handsome; and it was embarrassing--yes, it was decidedly +a little embarrassing--to be recognised by her so publicly at the very +moment of her first success. + +"Know her?" said a voice at his shoulder--it was the voice of a critic. +"Why, she's first-rate! Isn't she the girl that used to play small parts +at the Frivolity? Who discovered that she had a voice?" + +"Old Lalli, I believe--first-violin in the orchestra," said Hubert. + +"Ah! Did he teach her, then? How did she get to della Scala? That +woman's charges are enormous--as big as Lamperti's!" + +"Couldn't say, I'm sure," returned Hubert, with perfect coolness. + +"Well, della Scala made a big hit this time, at any rate. Old Mitcham's +prowling about--from Covent Garden, do you see him? That girl will have +an engagement before the day's out--mark my words! There hasn't been +such a brilliant success for the last ten years." + +And then the second part of the concert began, and Hubert was left in +peace. + +Cynthia's second song was a greater success even than the first. There +could be no doubt that she would attain a great height in her profession +if she wished to do so; she had a splendid organ, she had been well +taught, and she was remarkably handsome. Her stage-training prevented +nervousness; and that she had dramatic talent was evidenced by her +singing of the two airs put down for her in the programme. But she took +everybody by surprise when she was _encored_. Instead of repeating her +last aria, she said a word in the accompanist's ear, and launched at +once into the song of Schubert's which she had sung in Hubert's rooms. +It was a complete change from the Italian music that constituted the +staple of Madame della Scala's concerts; but it revealed new capacities +of passion in the singer's voice, and was not unwelcome, even to Madame +herself, as showing the girl's talent and versatility. As she passed off +the platform, Madame caught the girl in her arms and kissed her +enthusiastically. The pupil's success was the teacher's success--and +Madame was delighted accordingly. + +Hubert was leaving the room at the conclusion of the concert, when an +attendant accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir! Mr. Lepel, sir?" + +"Yes; what is it?" + +"Miss West told me to give you this, sir;" and he put a twisted slip of +paper into Hubert's hand. + +Hubert turned aside and opened the note. He could have smiled at its +abruptness--so like what he already knew of Cynthia West. + +"Why didn't you come round in the interval and let me thank you? If I +have been successful, it is all owing to you. Please come to see us this +evening if you can; I want very much to consult you. You know my +address. Madame won't let me stay now. "C. W." + +"Impetuous little creature!" Hubert smiled to himself--although Cynthia +was not little. + +He thrust the note into his pocket, and went home to dine and dress. He +knew Madame della Scala's ways. This old lady, with whom Cynthia was now +staying, loved to hold a little reception on the evening of the day of +her yearly concert, and she would be delighted to see Mr. Lepel, +although she had not sent him any formal invitation. For Cynthia's sake +he made up his mind to go. + +"For Cynthia's sake." How lightly he said the words! In after-days no +words were fraught with deeper and sadder suggestion for him; none bowed +him down more heavily with a sense of obligation and shame and +passionate remorse than these--"For Cynthia's sake." + +He went that night to Madame della Scala's house and sat for a full +hour, in a little conservatory lighted with Chinese lanterns, alone with +Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"I don't know how it is," grumbled the General, "but Enid looks scarcely +any better than she did before this precious engagement of hers. You +made me think that she would be perfectly happy if she had her own way; +but I must say, Flossy, that I see no improvement." + +Flossy, lying on a sofa and holding a fan over her eyes, as though to +shut out the sight of her husband's bowed shoulders and venerable white +head, answered languidly-- + +"You forget that you did only half of what you were expected to do. You +would not consent to a definite engagement until she should be eighteen +years old; she is eighteen now, and yet you are holding back. Suspense +of such a sort is very trying to a girl." + +The General, who had been standing beside her, sat down in a large +arm-chair and looked very vexed. + +"I don't care," he said obstinately--"I'm not going to have my little +girl disposed of in such a hurry! She shall not be engaged to anybody +just yet; and until she is twenty or twenty-one she sha'nt be married. +Why, she's had no girlhood at all! She's only just out of the schoolroom +now. Eighteen is nothing!" + +"Waiting and uncertainty are bad for a girl's spirits," said Mrs. Vane. +"You can do as you please, of course, about her engagement; but you must +not expect her to look delighted over the delay." + +The General put his hands on his knees and leaned forward mysteriously. + +"Flossy," he said, "I don't wish to make you anxious, dear; but do you +think Hubert really cares for her?" + +Flossy lowered her fan; there was a touch of angry color in her face. + +"What are you going to say next, General? Why should Hubert have asked +Enid to marry him if he were not in love with her? He had, no doubt, +plenty of opportunities of asking other people." + +"Yes--yes; but Enid is very sweet and very lovely, my dear. You don't +often see a more beautiful girl. I should not like her to marry a man +who was not attached to her." + +Flossy controlled her anger, and spoke in a careless tone. + +"What makes you take such fancies into your head, dear?" + +"Well--more than one thing. To begin with, I found Enid wandering up and +down the conservatory just now, looking as pale as a ghost, with tears +in her eyes. I railed her a little, and asked her to tell me what was +the matter; but she would not say. And then I asked if it had anything +to do with Hubert, and whether she had heard from him lately; and, do +you know, Flossy, she has had no letter from him for a fortnight! Now, +in my day, although postage was dearer than it is now, we wouldn't have +waited a fortnight before writing to the woman that we loved." + +"Hubert is a very busy man; he has not time for the writing of +love-letters," said Flossy slightly. + +"He ought not to be too busy to make her happy." + +"You forget too," said Mrs. Vane, "that Hubert has no private fortune. +He is working harder than ever just now--toiling with all his might and +main to gain a competency--not for his own, but for Enid's sake. Poor +boy, he is often harassed on all sides!" She drew a little sigh as if +she were sorrowing for him. + +"I'm sure Enid does not harass him," said the General, getting up and +pacing about the room in a hurry; "she is sweetness itself! And, as to +money, why did he propose to her if he hadn't enough to keep her on? Of +course Enid will have a nice little fortune--he needn't doubt that; but +I shall tie it up pretty tightly when she marries, and settle it all +upon herself. You may tell him that from me if you like, with my +compliments!" The General was excited--he was hot and breathing hard. +"He must have an income to put against--that's all; he's not going to +live on his wife's fortune." + +"Poor Hubert--I don't suppose he ever thought of such a thing!" said +Flossy, affecting to laugh at her husband's vehemence, but weighing +every word she uttered with scrupulous care. "Indeed, if he had known +that she would have money, I don't suppose he would even have asked her +to marry him. He believed her to be all but penniless." + +"And what right had he to believe that?" shouted the General, looking +more apoplectic than ever. + +At which Flossy softly sighed, and said, "My nerves, dear!" closed her +eyes, and held a vinaigrette to her nose. + +The General was quieted at once. + +"I beg your pardon, my dear--I forgot that I must not talk so loudly in +your room," he said apologetically. "But my feelings get the better of +me when I think of my poor little Enid looking so white and mournful. +And so Hubert's working hard for her, is he? Poor lad! Of course I shall +not forget him either in my will--you can tell him so if you like--and +Enid's future is assured; but he must not neglect her--mustn't let her +shed tears and make those pretty blue eyes of hers dim, you know--you +must tell him that." + +"The General grows more and more foolish every day," said Flossy to +herself, with disgust--"a garrulous old dotard!" But she spoke very +sweetly. + +"I will talk to him if you like, dear; but I do not think that he means +to hurt or neglect poor Enid. He is coming down to-morrow to spend +Easter with us; that will please her, will it not? I have been keeping +it a secret from her; I wanted to give her a surprise. It will bring the +color back to her pale cheeks--will it not, you kind, sympathetic old +dear!" + +Flossy's white hand was laid caressingly on the General's arm. The old +soldier rose to the bait. He raised it at once to his mouth, and kissed +it as devoutly as ever he had saluted the hand of his Queen. + +"My dear," he said, "you are always right; you are a wonderful woman--so +clever, so beautiful, so good!" Did she not shiver as she heard the +words? "I will leave it in your hands--you know how to manage every +one!" + +"Dear Richard," said Flossy, with a faint smile, "all that I do is for +your sake." + +And with these words she dismissed him radiantly happy. + +Left to her own meditations, the expression of her face changed at once; +it grew stern, hard, and cold; there was an unyielding look about the +lines of her features which reminded one of the fixity of a mask or a +marble statue. She lay perfectly motionless for a time, her eyes fixed +on the wall before her; then she put out her hand and touched a bell at +her side. + +Almost immediately the door opened to admit her maid--a thin, upright +woman with dark eyes, and curly dark hair, disposed so as to hide the +tell-tale wrinkles on her brow and the crow's-feet at the corners of her +eyes. She wore pink bows and a smart little cap and apron of youthful +style; but it would have been evident to the eye of a keen observer that +she was no longer young. She closed the door behind her and came to her +mistress' side. + +Florence paused for a minute or two, then spoke in a voice of so harsh +and metallic a quality that her husband would scarcely have recognised +it as hers. + +"You have been neglecting your duty. You have not made any report to me +for nearly a week." + +"You have not asked me for one, ma'am." + +"I do not expect to have to ask you. You are to come to me whenever +there is anything to say." + +The woman stood silent; but there was a protest in her very bearing, in +the pose of her hands, the expression of her mouth and eyebrows. Flossy +looked at her once, then turned her head away and said-- + +"Go on." + +"There is nothing of importance to tell you, ma'am." + +"How do you know what is important and what is not? For instance, Miss +Enid was found by the General crying in the conservatory this morning. I +want to know why she cried." + +The maid--whose name was Parker--sniffed significantly as she replied-- + +"It's not easy to tell why young ladies cry, ma'am. The wind's in the +east--perhaps that has something to do with it." + +"Oh, very well!" said Mrs. Vane coldly. "If the wind is in the east, and +that is all, Parker, you had better find some position in the world in +which your talents will be of more use to you than they are to me. I +will give you a month's pay instead of the usual notice, and you can +leave Beechfield to-night." + +The maid's face turned a little pale. + +"I'm sure I beg pardon, ma'am," she said rather hurriedly; "I didn't +mean that I had nothing to say. I--I've served you as well as I could, +ma'am, ever since I came." There was something not unlike a tear in her +beady black eyes. + +"Have you?" said her mistress indifferently. "Then let me hear what you +have been doing during the last few days. If your notes are not worth +hearing"--she made a long pause, which Parker felt to be ominous, and +then continued calmly--"there is a train to London to-night, and no +doubt your mother will be glad to see you, character or no character." + +"Oh, ma'am, you wouldn't go for to be so cruel, would you?" cried Parker +the unwise, evidently on the verge of a flood of tears. "Without a +character, ma'am, I'm sure I couldn't get a good place; and you know my +mother has only what I earn to live upon. You wouldn't turn me off at a +moment's notice for----" + +"You are wasting a great deal of time," said Flossy coldly. "Say what +you have to say, and I will be the judge as to whether you have or have +not obeyed my orders. Where are your notes?" + +Smothering a sob, Parker drew from her pocket a little black book, from +which she proceeded to read aloud. But her voice was so thick, her +articulation so indistinct by reason of her half-suppressed emotion, +that presently, with an exclamation of impatience, Mrs. Vane turned and +took the book straight out of her hands. + +"You read abominably, Parker?" she said. "Where is it? Let me see. +'Sunday'--oh, yes, I know all about Sunday!--'Church, Sunday-school, +church'--as usual. What's this? 'Mr. Evandale walked home with Miss E. +from afternoon school.' I never heard of that! Where were you?" + +"Walking behind them, ma'am." + +"Could you hear anything? What do your notes say? H'm!" They walked very +slow and spoke soft--could not hear a word. At the Park gates Mr. E. +took her hand and held it while he talked. Miss E. seemed to be crying. +The last thing he said was, "You know you may always trust me." Then he +went down the road again, and Miss E. came home. Monday.--Miss E. very +pale and down-like. Indoors all morning teaching Master D. Walked up to +the village with him after his dinner; went to the schools; saw Mr. E. +and walked along the lane with him. Mr. E. seemed more cheerful, and +made her laugh several times. The rest of the day Miss E. spent indoors. +Tuesday.--Miss E. teaching Master Dick till twelve. Riding with the +master till two. Lunch and needlework till four. Mr. Evandale came to +call. "Why was I never told that Mr. Evandale came to call?" said +Flossy, starting up a little, and fixing her eyes, bright with a +wrathful red gleam in their brown depths, upon the shrinking maid. + +"I don't know, ma'am. I thought that you had been told." + +Flossy sank back amongst her cushions, biting her lip; but she resumed +her reading without further comment. + +"'Stayed an hour, part of the time with Miss E. alone, then with the +master. Little Master Dick in and out most of the time. Nothing special, +as far as I could tell. Wednesday.--Miss E. walked with Master Dick to +the village after lessons. Went into Miss Meldreth's shop to buy sweets, +but did not stay more than a few minutes. Passed the Rectory gate; Mr. +E. came running after them with a book. I was near enough to see Miss E. +color up beautiful at the sight of him. They did not talk much together. +In the afternoon Miss E. rode over to Whitminster with the General. +After tea---- ' Yes, I see," said Mrs. Vane, suddenly stopping +short--"there is nothing more of any importance." + +She lay silent for a time, with her finger between the pages of the +note-book. Parker waited, trembling, not daring to speak until she was +spoken to. + +"Take your book," said Mrs. Vane at last, "and be careful. No, you need, +not go into ecstasies"--seeing from Parker's clasped hands that she was +about to utter a word of gratitude. "I shall keep you no longer than you +are useful to me--do you understand? Go on following Miss Vane; I want +to know whom she sees, where she goes, what she does--if possible, what +she talks about. Does she get letters--letters, I mean beside those that +come in the post-bag?" + +"I don't know, ma'am." + +"Make it your business to know, then. You can go;" and Flossy turned +away her face, so as not to see Parker's rather blundering exit. + +"The woman is a fool," she said to herself contemptuously, when Parker +had gone; "but I think she is--so far--a faithful fool. These women who +have made a muddle of their lives are admirable tools; they are always +so afraid of being found out;" and Flossy smiled cynically, although at +the same moment she was conscious that she shared the peculiarity of the +woman of whom she spoke--she also was afraid of being found out. + +She had come across Parker before her marriage, when she was in +Scotland. The woman had then been detected in theft and in an intrigue +with one of the grooms, and had been ignominiously dismissed from +service; but Flossy had chosen to seek her out and befriend her--not +from any charitable motive, but because she saw in the discarded maid a +person whom it might be useful to have at beck and call. Parker's +bedridden mother was dependent upon her; and her one fear in life was +that this mother should get to know her true story and be deprived of +support. Upon this fear Mrs. Vane traded very skilfully; and, having +installed Parker in the place of lady's-maid to herself and her +husband's niece, she obtained accurate information concerning Enid's +movements and actions, supplied from a source which Enid never even +suspected. + +Such knowledge was generally very useful to Flossy, but at present she +was puzzled by certain items of news brought to her by Parker. "What +does this constant meeting with Mr. Evandale mean?" she asked herself. +Then her thoughts went back to the day of Mrs. Meldreth's death--a day +which she never remembered without a shudder. She knew very well that +the poor old woman had bitterly repented of her share in a deed to which +her daughter Sabina and Mrs. Vane had urged her; it had been as much as +Mrs. Vane and Sabina, by their united efforts, could do to make her hold +her tongue. No fear of the General's vengeance, of Sabina's disgrace, of +punishment of any kind, would have ensured her silence very much longer. +The old woman had said again and again that she could not bear--in her +own words--"to see Miss Enid kep' out of her own." She used to come to +Flossy's boudoir and sit there, crying and entreating that she might be +allowed to tell the General the truth. She did not seem to care when she +was reminded that she herself would probably be punished, and that +Sabina and Mrs. Vane had nothing but ruin before them if the truth were +known. She had the fear of death on her soul--the fear that her sin +would bring her eternal misery. + +"You are a wickedly selfish woman!" Flossy once said to her, with as +near an approach to passion as her temperament would allow. "You think +of nothing but your own salvation. Our ruin, body and soul, does not +matter to you." + +And indeed this was true. The terrors of the law had gotten hold of Mrs. +Meldreth's conscience. The avenging sword, carried by a religion in +which she believed, had pierced her heart. She would have given +everything she had in the world to be able to follow the advice given in +her Prayer-book, to go to a "discreet and learned minister of God's +Word"--Mr. Evandale, for instance--and quiet her conscience by opening +her grief to him. But both Sabina and Mrs. Vane were prepared to go to +almost any length before they would give her the chance of doing this. + +Mrs. Vane was of course the leading spirit of the three. Where Sabina +only raved and stormed, Mrs. Vane mocked and persuaded. She argued, +threatened, coaxed, bribed, in turns; she gave Mrs. Meldreth as much +money as she could spare, and promised more for the future; but the poor +woman--at first open to persuasion--grew more and more difficult to +restrain, and became at last almost imbecile from the pressure of her +secret upon her mind. Flossy had begun seriously to consider the +expediency of inducing Sabina to consign her mother to a lunatic asylum, +or even to employ violent means for the shortening of her days on +earth--there was nothing at which her soul would have revolted if her +own prosperity could have been secured by it; but Mrs. Meldreth's +natural illness and death removed all necessity for extreme measures. + +Nothing indeed would have been more fortunate for Flossy and her +accomplice than Mrs. Meldreth's death, had it not been for the +circumstance that the dying woman had seen both Enid Vane and Mr. +Evandale during her last moments. Flossy wondered angrily why Sabina had +been so foolish as to admit them. She had heard nothing from Enid, who +had kept her room for a couple of days after her return from Mrs. +Meldreth's death-bed; but she was certain that something was now known +to the girl which had not been known before. Flossy had tried to +question her, to reprove her even for going into the houses of the sick +poor; but there had been a look in the girl's eyes, a frozen defiance +and horror in her face, which made Mrs. Vane shrink back aghast. Though +silent and not very demonstrative in manner, Enid had hitherto never +shown any dislike to Flossy, and had been as scrupulously attentive to +her wishes as if she were still a child; but these days of passive +obedience were past. Enid now quietly did what she chose. She seldom +spoke to Florence at all; and on several occasions she had maintained +her own purpose and choice with a calmness and steadfastness which had +almost terrified Mrs. Vane. Who would have thought that Enid had a +character? The girl had emancipated herself from all control, without +words, without open rebellion; she had looked Flossy straight in the +face once or twice, and Flossy had been compelled to yield. + +Yes, Enid knew something--she was sure of that; how much she could not +tell. She had never questioned Sabina Meldreth in person about the scene +at her mother's death-bed--on principle, Flossy spared herself all +painful and exciting interviews; but she had had a few lines from +Sabina--sent to Beechfield Hall on the day of her mother's funeral. + +"Miss Vane knows something--I don't know how much," Sabina had written. +"The parson wanted to know, but couldn't get to hear. Maybe Miss Vane +has told him. If she has, the parish won't hold you nor me." + +"Abominably brusque and rude!" Flossy said to herself, as she drew the +scrap of paper from its hiding-place. "But one cannot mould clay without +soiling one's fingers, I suppose. It is months since Mrs. Meldreth died; +and evidently Enid knows less than I supposed, or has made up her mind +to keep the secret. But what do these meetings with Mr. Evandale mean? +Is she confiding her troubles to him then? The little fool! I must see +Sabina Meldreth, and Hubert too. What a good thing I had written to him +to come--though not for the sake of pleasing Miss Enid, as the General +fondly supposes! I must send for Sabina." + +But the wish seemed to have brought about its own fulfilment. At that +very moment Parker knocked at her mistress' door. + +"Will you see Miss Meldreth, ma'am? She says she would like a few words +with you, if you can see her. She's down-stairs." + +"Bring Sabina Meldreth to me," said Mrs. Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Flossy's first instinctive desire was to rise from her sofa and receive +Sabina Meldreth standing--not at all by way of politeness, but as an +intimation that the interview was not intended to be a long one. On +second thoughts, she lay still. A show of languor and indifference was +more likely to produce an impression on Sabina than excitement. Mrs. +Vane closed her heavy white eyelids, and did not raise them until the +fair-haired woman in black, whom Hubert had noticed with the singers on +New Year's Eve, was standing beside her couch. + +"I thought you was asleep," said Miss Meldreth, with a slightly insolent +air. "Some people can sleep through anything." + +"All the better for them," answered Mrs. Vane dryly. "Why have you +come?" She was not going to admit that she had been longing to see her +visitor. + +"I've come for the usual thing," said Sabina doggedly--"I want some +money." + +"You had some last month." + +"Yes, and had to write three times for it--and me bothered about my +rent. You're not carrying on business on fair terms, Mrs. Vane. I want +to have a clear understanding. Mother managed all the money matters +before; but she's gone now, and I should like something definite." + +"What do you mean by 'definite'?" + +"Either money down or regular quarterly payments, ma'am. You owe me that +when you think of all I've done for you." + +"Have I done nothing for you then," said Flossy, with a red gleam in her +brown eyes, "in saving you from disgrace, ridding you of a permanent +burden, pensioning your mother till her death, and giving you money +whenever you have asked for it? Is that nothing at all, Sabina +Meldreth?" + +"It's something, of course," said Sabina stolidly; "but it ain't enough. +I want fifty pounds a quarter, paid regular. If you give me that, I'm +thinking of going back to Whitminster, where there won't be so many +people poking and prying about and asking questions." + +Going back to Whitminster! That would be worth paying for indeed! But +Flossy showed no sign of gratification. + +"What people have been asking questions?" + +"The parson, for one." + +"And who else?" + +"Well," said Sabina, rather reluctantly, "I won't say that there's any +one else. But the parson's been at me more than once, and he keeps his +eye upon me and preaches at me in church--and I won't stand it!" + +"Why do you go to church?" said Mrs. Vane with a faint sneer. + +"Because, if I don't, people would say I wasn't respectable," snapped +Miss Meldreth; "and it's no good flying in their faces that way." + +"Oh! Then you wish to be thought respectable?" + +"Yes, I do; and, what's more, so do you, Mrs. Vane, in your own way. +You're too high and mighty, and pretend to be too ill to have to go to +church; but, if you was me, and heard what folks say of them that stop +away, you'd go yourself." + +"Possibly," said Flossy; "we are in different circumstances. Now tell +me--why has Mr. Evandale questioned you?" + +"Because of what he heard when mother lay dying, of course. I wrote and +warned you at the time." + +"You should have said more then. You should have come and told me the +whole story. Tell it me now." + +It was a proof of Flossy's curious power over certain natures that +Sabina Meldreth, wild and undisciplined as she was, seldom thought of +resisting her will when in her very presence. She sat down on a chair +that Mrs. Vane pointed out to her, and recounted, in rapid and not +ill-chosen words, what had passed in her mother's room in the presence +of the Rector and of Enid Vane. Flossy listened silently, tapping her +lips from time to time with her fan. + +When the story was ended, she turned on her visitor with a terrible +flash of her usually sleepy eyes. + +"You fool," she said; without however raising her voice--"you fool! You +have known this all these months, and have never made your way to me to +tell it! How was I to know that the matter was so important? How was I +to suspect? I guessed something, of course; but not this! Why, Sabina +Meldreth, we are at the mercy of that child's discretion! She has us in +her hands--she can crush us when she pleases! Heavens and earth--and to +think that I did not know!" + +"You might have known," said Sabina sullenly. "I've been to the house +more than once. I've written and said that I wanted to see you. I don't +think it's me that's been the fool." But the last sentence was uttered +almost in a whisper. + +"No, I have been careless--I have been to blame!" said Flossy, a +feverish spot of color showing itself in her white cheeks. "So she +knows--she knows! That is why she looks at me so strangely; that is why +she avoids me and will hardly speak to me. I understand her now." + +"Maybe," said Sabina, "she thought mother was raving, or didn't +understand her aright." + +"No, no; she understood--she believes it. But why has she kept silence? +She hates me, and she might have ruined me--she might have secured +Beechfield for herself by this time! What a little idiot she must be!" + +Mrs. Vane was thinking aloud rather than addressing Sabina; but that +young woman generally had an answer ready, and was not disposed to be +ignored. + +"Miss Vane's fond of her uncle," she said drily, "and did not want +perhaps to vex him. Besides"--her voice dropped suddenly--"they tell me +she's fond of the child." + +Flossy did not seem to hear; she was revolving other matters in her +mind. + +"Do you think," she said presently; "that Miss Enid has told the Rector? +She has seen a good deal of him lately." + +"No, I don't; I should have heard of it before now if she had," replied +Sabina bluntly. "He don't mince matters; and he's got it into his head +that I ought to be reformed, and that I've something on my mind. That's +why I want to get to Whitminster." + +"Go farther away than Whitminster," said Mrs. Vane suddenly; "go to +London, and I'll give you the money you ask--two hundred pounds a year." + +"Will you? Well, I'm not ill-disposed to go to London. One could live +there very comfortable, I dare say, on two hundred a year. But how am I +to know if you'll pay it? Give me a bit of writing----" + +"Not a word--not a line! You need not be afraid. I'll keep my promise if +I have to sell my jewels to do it; and the General does not ask me what +I do with my allowance. By-and-by, Sabina, I may have an income of my +own; and then--then it shall be better for you as well as for me." + +Her tone and manner had grown silky and caressing. Miss Meldreth looked +hard at her, as if suspecting that this sugary sweetness covered some +ill design; but she read nothing but thoughtful serenity in Mrs. Vane's +fair face. + +"When the General's dead, you mean? Well, that's as it may be. But I +can't wait for that, you know, ma'am. He's strong and well, and may live +for twenty years to come. I want my affairs settled now." + +"Very well. Go to London, send me your address, and you shall have the +fifty pounds as soon as you are settled there." + +"That won't quite do, Mrs. Vane. I want something down for travelling +and moving expenses. I have some bills to settle before I can leave the +village." + +"You must be terribly extravagant!" said Flossy bitterly. "I gave you +thirty pounds at Christmas. Will ten pounds do?" + +"Twenty would be better." + +"I haven't twenty. I do not know where to get them. You must be content +with ten." + +"Ten won't do," said Sabina obstinately. + +Mrs. Vane made a gesture of impatience. + +"Reach me that jewel-box over there," she said. "Yes; bring it close--I +have the key. Here are two five-pound notes. And here--take this ring, +this bracelet--they are worth far more than ten pounds--get what you can +for them." + +"I'd rather have the money," said Sabina; "but, if I must put up with +this, I must. I'll be off in a couple of days." + +"You had better not tell anyone before hand that you are going. Some +people might--think it their duty to interfere." + +"All right--I'll keep quiet, don't you fear, ma'am! Well, then, that's +settled. If I go to London, you'll send me the fifty pound a quarter. +And it must be regular, if you please--else I'll have to come down here +after it." + +"You will not have to do that," said Mrs. Vane coldly. + +"Very well. Then I'll say good-bye to you, ma'am. Hope you'll get safely +through your troubles; but it seems to me that you're in an uncommon +risky position." + +"And, if I am," said Flossy, with sudden anger, "whose fault is it but +yours?" + +Sabina shrugged her shoulders, and did not seem to think it worth while +to reply. She walked to the door, and let herself out without another +look or word. + +She knew her way about Beechfield Hall perfectly well; and it was +perhaps of set purpose that she turned down a passage that led past the +nursery door. The door was open, and Master Dick was drawing a +horse-and-cart up and down the smooth boards of the corridor. It was his +favorite playing-place on a summer evening. He stopped short when he saw +Sabina, and looked at her with observant eyes. + +"This isn't your way, you know," he said, facing her gravely. "This +passage leads to my room, and Enid's room, not to the kitchens; and you +belong to the kitchens, don't you?" + +Sabina stopped and eyed him strangely. She looked at his delicate +sharp-featured little face, at his fair hair and blue eyes, at the +dainty neatness of his apparel, and the costly toy which he held in his +hands. Her own bold eyes softened as she looked. She half knelt down and +held out her arms. + +"Will you kiss me once, dearie, before I go away?" + +Dick looked at her wonderingly. Then he came and put his little arms +around her neck and kissed her once, twice, thrice. + +"Don't cry," he said; "I didn't know you were so nice and kind. But, you +see, I've only seen you in the shop." + +"You won't see me in the shop any more. I'm going away," said Sabina, +utterly forgetful of her promise to Mrs. Vane. + +"Are you?" said Dick. "Oh, then, won't there be any more sweeties in +your windows? Or will some one else sell them?" + +"Some one else, I expect. That's all that children care for!" cried +Sabina, springing to her feet. "He's got no heart!" + +Turning her face suddenly, she saw that there had been a spectator of +the little scene--a spectator at the sight of whom Sabina Meldreth +turned deadly white. Miss Vane stood at the nursery door. She had been +sitting there, and had heard Sabina's words and poor little Dick's +innocent reply. + +"You are wrong," she said gravely, with her eyes intent on Sabina's pale +distorted face. "He has a heart--he is very loving and gentle. But you +cannot expect him to love you when he does not know you. If ever he knew +you better, he would--perhaps--love you more." + +This speech, uttered quite gently and even pitifully, had a curious +effect upon Sabina. She burst into tears, and turned away, hiding her +face and sobbing as she went. + +Enid stood for a moment in the doorway, holding the door-post by one +hand, and sadly watching the retreating figure until it disappeared. +Then Dick pulled at her dress. + +"Cousin Enid, why does that woman cry? And why did she want to kiss me? +Was she angry or sorry, or what?" + +"Sorry, I think, dear," said Enid, as she went back to her seat. + +She drew Dick upon her knee and caressed him tenderly for a few moments; +but Dick felt, to his surprise, that the kisses she bestowed on him were +mingled with tears. + +"Cousin Enid, why do you cry too?" + +But all she answered was-- + +"Oh, Dick, Dick--my poor little Dick--I hope you will never--never +know!" Which poor little Dick could not understand. + + * * * * * + +Hubert Lepel arrived on the following day. He had not been to Beechfield +Hall for some weeks, and he seemed to feel it incumbent upon him to make +up to Enid for his long absence by presents and compliments; for he had +brought her a beautiful bracelet, and was unusually profuse in his +expressions of regard and admiration. And yet Enid seemed scarcely so +pleased as a young girl in similar circumstances ought to have seemed. +Indeed she shrank a little from private conversation with him, and +looked harassed and troubled. + +It was perhaps in consequence of this fact that three days after his +arrival Hubert sought a private interview with his sister. Flossy had +meanwhile not spoken a word; she had been watching and waiting for those +three days. + +"Florence, I am inclined to think that you were mistaken." + +"So am I," thought Flossy to herself; but aloud she only asked, "Why, +dear?" with perfect tranquility. + +"About Enid. I--I am beginning to think that she doesn't much care." He +said the last words slowly, with his eyes on the tip of his boot. + +"I am sure you are mistaken," said Flossy quietly. "But she is not +demonstrative, and--well, I may as well say it to you--she has taken +some idea into her head--something about me--about the past----" + +She faltered skilfully; but she kept her eyes on Hubert's face, and saw +that it wore a guilty look. + +"Well, Flossy, you are right," he said. "She has heard +something--village talk, I suppose--and I cannot get her to tell me what +it is." + +"She means perhaps to tell some one else?" said Mrs. Vane, with +bitterness. + +"No, I believe not. She has no wish to harm you, poor child, although +she thinks that the General ought not to be deceived. However, I +persuaded her to abandon that idea, showing her that it was not her duty +to tell a thing that would so utterly destroy his happiness." Florence +turned away her head. "I felt myself a villain," Hubert continued +gravely, "in counseling her to stifle her conscientious scruples, +Florence; but, for your sake and your husband's sake, I pleaded with +her, and prevailed on her to keep silence--she will tell no one but +myself after our marriage." + +"You had better not let her open the subject with you at all. It will +only be productive of unhappiness." Flossy discerned the entanglement at +once--she saw that Hubert meant one thing and Enid another; but out of +their cross-purposes she divined a way of keeping the girl silent. "For +my sake Hubert, don't discuss my terrible past between you. What good +would it do? Promise me that, when you are married, you will not let her +speak of it--even to you." She shed a tear or two as she spoke. + +"Poor Flossy!" said Hubert, laying his hand on her arm. "Don't grieve, +dear! I have no right to say anything, have I? Yes, I promise you I will +not let her say a word about the matter, either now or afterwards, if I +can help it, and certainly to no one beside myself." + +And with this promise Flossy feigned contentment. But, when Hubert had +left her, she paced up and down the room with cheeks that flamed with +excitement, and eyes that glowed with the dull red light of rage. + +"What was I thinking about to bring this engagement to pass?" she said +to herself. "Yet, after all, it is better so. Hubert has a reason for +silencing her; with any other man, she would have the matter out in a +trice, and ruin me. Now what is the next move? To delay the marriage, of +course. I will come round prettily to the General's view, and uphold him +in his determination not to allow the marriage for at least two years. +So Enid says that she will not betray me until she is married, does she? +Then she will never have the chance; for a great deal may happen--to a +delicate girl like Enid Vane--in two long years." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Hubert had been worried and overworked of late; it had appeared to him a +good thing that he should spend a few of the spring days at Beechfield, +and try to recover in the society of his sister and his betrothed the +serenity that he had lost. But this seemed after all no easy thing to +do. He was annoyed to find himself irritated by small matters; his +equanimity, usually perfect, was soon ruffled; and, although he did not +always show any outward sign of vexation, he felt that his temper was +not quite under his own control. And it was Enid, curiously enough, who +irritated him most. + +"Who is this new singer," she asked one day, "about whom people are +talking so much?" + +"My dear Enid, how am I to know which singer you mean?" he said, +letting the newspaper drop from his hand, and clasping his hands +leisurely behind his head. "There are so many new singers!" + +They had been having tea under the beech-tree, and, as usual, had been +left alone to do their love-making, undisturbed. Their love-making was +of a very undemonstrative character. Enid sat in one comfortable +basket-chair, Hubert in another, at a yard's distance. Their +conversation went on in fragments, interspersed by long pauses filled up +by an orchestra of birds in the branches overhead. + +"I do not remember her name exactly," said Enid. "The Tollemaches were +talking about her yesterday; they heard her in town last week. 'Cynthia' +something--'Cynthia,' I remember that, because it is such an uncommon +name." + +"I suppose you mean Miss Cynthia West," said Hubert, after a very long +pause. + +"Yes, 'Cynthia West'--that was the name. Have you heard her?" + +"Yes." + +"And do you think her very wonderful?" + +"She is a remarkably fine singer." + +"Oh, I hope we shall hear her when we next go up to London! Aunt Leo +wants me to stay with her." + +"That will be very nice," said Hubert, bestirring himself a little. +"Then you will hear all the novelties. But I would not go just yet if I +were you, London has not begun to wake up again after its winter sleep." + +"What a horrible place it must be!" said Enid, with a little shiver. + +"You think so? It is my home." + +There was an accent in his voice which impressed Enid painfully. She +clasped her hands rather tightly together in her lap, and said, after +another pause, in a lower tone-- + +"I dare say I should grow fond of it if I lived there." + +"As you will do, in time," said Hubert, with a smile. "You must try to +believe that you will soon be as absorbed in town-life as every other +woman; that concerts and theatres and balls will make up for green +fields and the songs of birds; that men are more interesting than brooks +and flowers; that to shop and to gossip are livelier occupations than +visiting the poor and teaching little Dick. Don't you think you can +imagine it?" + +She shook her head. + +"I can't imagine it; but, if I had to do it, I would try. I don't think +your picture is very attractive, if I may say so, Hubert." + +"Don't you, dear? Why not?" + +"It sounds so unreal. Do women pass their lives in that frivolous, vapid +way?" + +"Not all of them, of course. There are women who have work to do," said +Hubert, looking idly into the distance, as if he were thinking of some +one or something that he could not see. + +"Oh, yes, I know--working women--professional women--women," said Enid, +with an innocent smile, "like Cynthia West." + +Hubert gave a slight start; then, to cover it, he changed his position, +bringing his arms down and crossing them on his breast. + +"You might tell me what she is like," continued Enid, with more +playfulness of manner than she generally showed. "You tell me so little +about London people! Is she handsome?" + +"Yes, very." + +"Dark or fair?" + +"Very dark." + +"Is she an Englishwoman?" pursued Enid. + +"I am sure I don't know. I never asked." + +"You know her then?" + +"What makes you ask all these questions?" said Hubert, as if he had not +heard the last. "Who has put Miss West into your head in this way?" He +looked annoyed. + +Enid at once put out a caressing hand. + +"I did not mean to be too inquisitive, Hubert dear. But the Tollemaches +are very musical, and they were talking a great deal about her. They +said they saw you at the concert when she came out--some Italian +teacher's semi-private concert--and they seemed to think that you knew +the whole set of people who were there." + +Mentally Hubert made some uncharitable remarks on the future destiny of +the Tollemaches; but he controlled himself so far as to answer coolly-- + +"I know several of that set, certainly. I know Miss West a little." + +"How delightful," cried Enid. "I should like to meet some of these great +artists. Will you ever be able to introduce me to her, do you think, +Hubert?" + +"I think not," said Hubert, knitting his brows. He did not find himself +able to turn the subject quite as easily as he could have wished. + +"Oh, isn't she nice?" hazarded Enid doubtfully. "I always fancy that the +people who sing and act in public can't be quite as nice as the people +who stay in their own home-circle. I know that you will think me very +narrow-minded to say so, but I can't help it." + +"I am afraid that I do think it rather narrow-minded," said Hubert +quietly, but with a dangerous lighting of his eyes. "You must surely +know that some of these singers are as good, as noble, as womanly as any +of your sheltered young ladies in their home-circles, who have not +genius enough to make themselves talked of by the world!" + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so!" said Enid, quite unconscious of the storm that +she was exciting in Hubert's breast. "But it is difficult to understand +why they prefer a public life to a private one. Do you think they really +like appearing on the stage?" + +"I am sure they do," said Hubert, with a short laugh. "You cannot +understand it as yet, I suppose; you will understand it by-and-by. It +would be a very poor lookout for a novelist and playwright like myself, +Enid, if every one thought as you do." + +And then he got up and walked to meet the General, who was approaching +the tea-table, and, as the two were soon deep in political matters, Enid +presently slipped away unobserved. + +She felt vaguely that she had vexed or disappointed her lover; she knew +the tones of his voice well enough to feel sure that in some way she had +said what he did not approve. And yet, on reflection, she could not see +that she had given him legitimate cause of offence. She knew that he did +not agree with her in preferring country to town; or in thinking that +women who sang in public were not quite of her class; but she did not +think that he ought to be angry with her for expressing her views. He +perplexed her very much by his moments of irritation, of coldness, of +absence of mind. At times he was certainly very different. He could be +most tender, though always with the tenderness of a grown man to a +child, of a strong person towards a weak one--and this was a kind of +tenderness which did not satisfy Enid's heart. Sometimes indeed she was +thankful that it was so, feeling as if any great display of affection on +his part would be overwhelming, out of place; but at other times she +felt that his calm kindness was almost an insult to the woman whom he +had asked to be his wife. A little while back she would not have thought +so--she would have been well content with his behavior; but a new factor +had come into her life since her engagement to Hubert Lepel, some new +and agitating consciousness of power had dawned upon her, with a +revelation of faculties and influences to which she had hitherto been a +stranger; and, in presence of these novel emotions and discoveries, +Hubert was weighed in the balance and found wanting. + +Meanwhile Hubert was as uncomfortable as a man could well be. He had +always meant to be faithful and tender to Enid--for whom, as he had +said, he would do anything in his power to save her from unhappiness; on +the other hand, he found the task more difficult than he had dreamed. He +had seen her first as a sweet, docile, pliable creature, ready to be +led, ready to be taught, and he had meant to mould her to his will. But, +lo and behold, the girl was not really pliable at all! She had a +distinct character, an individuality of her own, as different from any +ideal of Hubert's as ice from fire. Her inability to appreciate the +artistic side of life--as he put it to himself--her dislike to the great +town where all his interests lay--these were traits which troubled him +out of proportion to their intrinsic worth. How could he be happy with a +woman who differed from him so entirely in habits, taste, and training? +He forgot for a moment that he had asked her to marry him in order that +she might be made happy--that he had solemnly put aside from himself all +thought of personal joy. But human nature is weak, and renunciation not +always pleasant. It occurred to his mind that Enid herself might not be +very happy if married to a man with whom she was not in sympathy. + +It was half with relief, half with regret, that he listened to a +monologue from the General on the subject of Enid's marriage. + +"I always disapproved of early marriages," he said sapiently; "they +never turn out well. And Enid is delicate; she must not take the cares +of a household upon her until she is older and stronger. Don't ask me +for her until she is twenty-one, Hubert! She shall not marry till then +with my consent." He had never spoken so strongly before; but he was +reinforced by Flossy's recently-bestowed approval. Till within the last +few days, Flossy had been all for a speedy marriage. She said now that +she was convinced that her "dear Richard" was perfectly right, and the +General was "cock-a-hoop" accordingly. "I need not threaten; you know +very well that I have the whole control of the money that would go to +her dowry--I need say nothing more. I will have no marriage talked +about--no engagement even--for the present. Mind you, Enid is not +engaged to you, Hubert. If she thinks fit to change her mind, she may do +so." + +"Certainly, sir." + +"And, if you think fit to change your mind, you may do so too. Nobody +wants either of you to marry where you do not love; the worst thing in +the world!" + +"When is this prohibition to be removed?" asked Hubert. "It seems to me +a little hard upon--upon us both." + +"If Enid is stronger, I will allow her to be engaged in a year's time," +said the General, "but not before; and I shall tell her so." + +The first time that Hubert found himself alone with Enid he said-- + +"The General seems to have changed his mind about our engagement, Enid." + +"Yes; he told me so," she answered meekly. + +"He says we are not to consider ourselves engaged." + +"Yes." + +"I am very sorry that he should take that view----" + +"Don't be sorry, please!" she said, quickly interrupting him. "I think +that it is better so." + +"Better, Enid?" + +"Yes. He says that I am not strong--and it is true. I feel very weak +sometimes, not strong enough to bear much, I am afraid. If I were to +become an invalid, I should not marry." She spoke gently, but with great +resolution. + +"That is all a morbid fancy of yours," said Hubert. "You will be better +soon. After this summer, the General talks of winter in the Riviera. +That will do you all the good in the world." + +"I think not," she answered quietly. "I am afraid that I am not so +likely to recover as you think. And, if not, nothing on earth will +induce me to marry any man. Remember that, Hubert--if I am not better, I +will not marry you. I intend to join the sisters at East Winstead." + +"It is that meddling parson who is at the bottom of this, I'll swear!" +said Hubert angrily, quitting her side and pacing about the room. He +noticed that at his words the color rose in the girl's pale cheeks. + +"If you mean Mr. Evandale," she said, "I can assure you that he has +never said a word to me about East Winstead. It is entirely my own +wish." + +"My dear child," said Hubert, halting in front of her, "the last thing +we want is to force your wishes in any direction. If, for instance, you +wish to throw me over and be a nun, do so by all means. I only ask you +to be true to yourself, and to see that you do not act on impulse, or so +as to blight the higher impulses of your nature. I can say no more." + +Enid looked at him wistfully, and seemed inclined to speak; but the +entrance of her uncle at that moment put a stop to further conversation, +and the subject was not reopened before Hubert's return to town. + +"No engagement--free to do as I please." The words hummed themselves in +Hubert's mind to the accompaniment of the throbs of the steam-engine all +the way back to London. What did it mean? What did Enid herself mean? +Was it not a humiliating position for a man to be in? Was it fair either +to him or to the girl? Did it not mean, as a matter of fact, that Flossy +had been mistaken, and that Enid was not in the least in love with him? +He could not say that she had been especially affectionate of late. +Passively gentle, sweet, amiable, she always was, but not emotional, not +demonstrative. At that moment Hubert would have given ten years of his +life to know what was in her heart--what she really meant, and wanted +him to do. + +Arrived at Charing Cross Station, he seemed uncertain as to his +movements. He hesitated when the porter asked him what he should do with +his luggage, and gave an order which he afterwards contradicted. + +"No," he said, "I won't do that. Put my things on a cab. All right! +Drive to No.--Russell Square." + +This was his home-address; but, when there, he did not go up-stairs. He +told his landlady to send his things to his room, and not to expect him +back to dinner, as he meant to dine at his club. + +He did so; but after dinner his fitful hesitancy seemed to revive. He +smoked a cigarette, talked a little to one of his friends, then went out +slowly and, as it seemed, indecisively into the street, and called a +hansom-cab. Then his indecision seemed to leave him. He jumped in, +shouted an address to the driver, and was driven on to a quiet square in +Kensington, where he knocked at the door of a tall narrow house, only +noticeable in the daytime by reason of the masses of flowers in the +balcony, and at night by the rose-colored blinds, illuminated by the +light of a lamp, in the drawing-room windows. + +The servant who opened the door welcomed him with a smile, as if his +face was well known to her. He passed her with a word of explanation, +and marched up-stairs to the first-floor, where he tapped lightly at the +drawing-room door, and then, without waiting, walked into the room. + +A girl in a red dress, who had been kneeling on the rug before the fire, +rose to her feet as he came in and uttered a blithesome greeting. + +"At last!" she said. "So here you are, monsieur! I was wondering what +had become of you, and thought you had deserted me altogether!" + +"Could I do that?" said Hubert, in a tone in which mock gallantry was +strangely mingled with a tenderness which was altogether passionate and +earnest. "Do you really think that I ever could do that?" + +The girl he spoke to was Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Cynthia West made a delightful picture as she stood in the glow of the +firelight and the rose-shaded lamps. Her dress, of deep red Indian silk, +partly covered with puffings of soft-looking net of the same shade, was +cut low, to show her beautiful neck and throat; the sleeves were very +narrow, so that the whole length of her finely-shaped arm could be seen. +Her dusky hair gave her all the stateliness of a coronet; swept away +from her neck to the top of her head, it left only a few stray curls to +shadow with bewitching lightness and vagueness the smooth surface of the +exquisite nape. What was even more remarkable in Cynthia than the beauty +of her face was the perfection of every line and contour of her body; +the supple, swelling, lissom figure was full of absolute grace; she +could not have been awkward if she had tried. It was the characteristic +that chiefly earned her the admiration of men; women looked more often +at her face. + +"Are you alone?" said Hubert, smiling, and holding out both his hands, +in which she impulsively placed her own. + +"Quite alone. Madame has gone out; only the servants are in the house. +How charming! We can have a good long chat about everything!" + +"Everything!" said Hubert, sinking with a sigh of relief into the low +chair that she drew forward. "I shall be only too happy. I have +stagnated since I saw you last--which was in March, I believe--an age +ago! It is now April, and I am absolutely ignorant as to what has been +going on during the last few weeks." + +"You have been in the country?" laughed Cynthia. "How I pity you!" + +"You do not like the country?" + +"Not one little bit. I had enough of it when I was a child." + +"You were brought up in the country, were you?" said Hubert carelessly. +"I should never have taken you for a country-bred girl--although your +physique does not speak of town-life, after all." + +"Is that meant for a compliment?" said Cynthia, the clear color suddenly +rising in her cheeks. "Bah--I do not like compliments--from some people! +I should like to forget all about my early life--dull tiresome days! I +began to live only when I came to London." + +"Which was when you were about fifteen, was it not? You have never told +me where you lived before that." + +Cynthia made a little _moue_ of disgust. + +"You have always been much too polite hitherto to ask unpleasant +questions. I tell you I want to forget those earlier years. If you must +know, I was at school." + +"I beg your pardon," said Hubert; "I had no idea that the subject was so +unpleasant to you, or I would not have alluded to it, of course." + +Cynthia gave him a quick look. + +"You have a right to ask," she said, in a lower voice. "I suppose I +ought to tell you the whole story; but----" + +There was strong reluctance in her voice. + +"You need do nothing of the kind. I have no right at all; don't talk +nonsense, Cynthia. After all, what is the use of raking up old +reminiscences? I have always held that it is better to put the past +behind us--to live for the present and the future. All of us have +memories that we would gladly forget. Why not make it a business of life +to do so?" + +"'Forgetting those things which are behind,'" Cynthia murmured. + +She was sitting on a very low chair, her hands loosely clasped before +her, her eyes searching the embers of the fire. Hubert looked at her +curiously. + +"I never heard you quote Scripture before," he said, half laughing. + +"Why not? There are plenty of things in the Bible worth thinking about +and quoting too," said Cynthia briskly, but with a sudden change of +attitude. "It would be better for us both, I have no doubt, if we knew +it a little better, Mr. Lepel. Aren't you going to smoke? It does not +seem at all natural to see you without a cigar in your mouth." + +"What a character to give me! Smoke in this rose-tinted room?" + +"Madame's friends all smoke here. You need not be an exception. She +herself condescends at times to the luxury of a cigarette." + +"You call it a luxury?" + +"Certainly. Madame has initiated me. But you will understand that I +don't display my accomplishment to every one." + +"No--don't," said Hubert, a trifle gravely. + +She looked round at him with a pretty defiance in her eyes and a laugh +upon her face. + +"Don't you approve?" she said mockingly. "Ah, you have yet something to +learn! It is quite evident that you have been spending Easter in the +country, and its gentle dulness hangs about you still." + +"Gentle dulness!" Hubert thought involuntarily of Enid. Yes, the term +fitted her very well. Timid, gentle, dull--thus unjustly he thought of +her; while, as to Cynthia--whatever Cynthia's faults might be, she was +not dull--a great virtue in Hubert's eyes. + +"I think you could make me approve of anything you do," he said, as he +rose in obedience to her invitation to light his cigar. "Some people +have the grace of becomingness; they adorn all they touch." + +"What a magnificent compliment! I will immediately put it to the test," +said Cynthia lightly. She had also risen, and was examining a little +silver box on the mantelpiece. "Here Madame keeps her Russian +cigarettes," she said. "I have not set up a stock of my own, you see. +Now give me a light. There--I can do it quite skilfully!" she said, as +she placed one of the tiny _papelitos_ between her lips and gave one or +two dainty puffs. "Now does it become me?" + +"Excellent well!" said Hubert, who was leaning back in an enormous +chair, so long and deep that one lay rather than sat in it, and +regarding her with amusement. "'All what you do, fair creature, still +betters what is done.'" + +"Then I'm content," said Cynthia, seating herself and holding the +cigarette lightly between her fingers. + +She still kept it alight by an occasional little puff; but Hubert smiled +to see that her enjoyment of it was, as a humorist has said of his first +cigar, "purely of an intellectual kind." She enjoyed doing what was +unusual and _bizarre_--that was all. He wondered whence she sprang, this +brilliant creature of earth with instincts so keen, desires so ardent, +mind and imagination so much more fully developed than was usual with +girls of her age. Cynthia's beauty was undeniable; but even without +beauty, save that of youth, she would have been striking and remarkable. + +She was not conscious of his continued gaze at her; she seemed to be +lost in thought--perhaps of her earlier years, for presently she said in +a reflective tone-- + +"You were surprised at my quoting Scripture. I wonder why? I do not +seem such a bad person that I must not quote the Bible, do I?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I used to be at the head of the Bible-class always when I was at St. +Elizabeth's," she said dreamily. She did not notice that Hubert gave a +little start when he heard the name. + +"Your school was called St. Elizabeth's?" + +"Yes." + +"At East Winstead?" + +"Yes"--this time rather hesitatingly. "Why?" + +"Did you happen to know a girl called Jane Wood?" + +The two looked at each other steadily for a minute or two. Hubert had +spoken with resolute quietness; he thought that Cynthia's expression +hardened, and that her color failed a little as she replied-- + +"I remember her quite well. She ran away." + +"Before you left?" + +"Before I left," said the girl, looking down at the cigarette she had +taken from her lips and held between her fingers. Suddenly she threw it +into the fire, and sitting erect, while a hot flush crossed her face, +went on, "Why do you want to know?" + +"Oh, nothing! What sort of a girl she was, for instance." + +"A wild little creature--a horrid, ungrateful, bad-tempered girl! +They--we were all glad when she went." + +"Why, the old woman--what's her name?--Sister Louisa--said that she was +a general favorite!" + +"I'm sure she wasn't. When were you there?" + +"The day after her departure, I think." + +"And what took you there, Mr. Lepel?" There was a touch of bewilderment +in Cynthia's voice. + +"Curiosity, for the most part." + +"No one was at the school whom you knew, I suppose?" + +"No," said Hubert, reflecting that Jane Wood had gone before he paid his +visit. + +Perhaps Cynthia did not understand this point. At any rate, she looked +relieved. + +"I was glad when my time came to leave," she said more freely. + +"Did you not like the place?" + +"Pretty well. It was frightfully, awfully dull!" + +"And yet you had never known anything more exciting? Were you really +conscious at the time that it was dull, or did you realise its dulness +only afterwards?" + +"Oh, I must have had it in my blood to know the difference between +dulness and enjoyment," she said lightly; "otherwise----" + +"Well--otherwise?" + +"Otherwise," she said smiling at him, "how should I know it now? There +is a vast difference between dulness and enjoyment--as vast as that +between happiness and misery; and I know them both." + +"Cynthia," he said, rising and leaning towards her--"Cynthia, child, you +do enjoy your present life--you are happy, are you not?" + +She looked at him silently. The smile faded; he noticed that her bosom +rose and fell more quickly than before. + +"You think I ought to be?" she said. "But why? Because I have been in +Italy--because I have had a little success or two--because people say +that I am handsome and that I have a voice? That is not my idea of +happiness, Mr. Lepel, if it is yours; but you know as well as I do that +it is not happiness at all. It is excitement if you like, but nothing +else--not even enjoyment." + +"What would you call enjoyment then, Cynthia? What is your idea of +happiness?" Her hurried breathing seemed to have infected him with like +shortness of respiration; there was a fire in his eyes. + +"Oh," she said looking away from him and holding her hands tightly +clasped upon her knee, "it is not different from other women's ideas of +happiness--it is quite commonplace! It means a safe happy home of my +own, with no reasonable fear that distrust or poverty or sin should +invade it--congenial work--a companion that I could love and trust and +work for and care for----" she stopped short. + +"A husband," said Hubert slowly, "and children to kiss your lips and +call you 'Mother,' and a man's love to soften and sweeten all the days +of your life." She nodded, but did not speak. "And I," he said, with an +irrepressible sigh--"I want a woman's love--I want a home too, and all +the sweet charities of home about me. Yes, that is happiness." + +"It will be yours by-and-by, I suppose," said Cynthia, in a rather +choked voice--he told her that he was engaged to be married. + +"I see no probability," he answered drily. "She--her guardian will not +allow an engagement." + +"But--she loves you?" + +"I do not think so; I am sure indeed that she does not!" + +"And you--you care for her?" + +"No; by Heaven, I do not!" + +"Then by-and-by you will meet somebody whom you love." + +"I have met somebody now," said Hubert, in a curiously dogged tone; +"but, as I am sure that she does not care a pin for me, there is no harm +in letting the secret out." + +"Who is she?"--in a startled tone. + +"She is a singer. She used to be an actress; but she has a magnificent +voice and is in training for the operatic stage. She will be a great +star one day, and I shall worship her from afar. But I have never met +anybody in the world who will ever be to me what that woman might have +been." + +"How do you know," said Cynthia, in a scarcely audible voice, "that you +are not so much to her as she is--you say--to you?" + +"How do I know? I am certain of it--certain that she regards me as a +useful, pleasant friend who is anxious to do his best for her in the +musical world, and nothing more. If I dreamed for a moment that I was +nearer and dearer to her than that, I should hold my tongue. But, as it +is, knowing that I am not worthy to kiss the hem of her garment, and +that if she knew all my unworthiness she would be the first to bid me +begone, I do not fear--now, once and once only--to tell her that I love +her with all my heart and mind and body and soul, and that I ask nothing +from her but permission to love on until the last day of my life." + +"Now, once and once only?" repeated Cynthia. + +She looked up and saw that he stood ready for departure. His face was +pale, his lips were tightly set, and his eyes sent forth a strange +defiant gleam which she had never seen before. He made three strides +towards the door before she collected herself sufficiently to start up +and speak. + +"No--no--you must not go! One moment! And what if--if"--she could +hardly get out the words--"what if the woman that you loved had loved +you too, ever since you saved her from poverty and disgrace and worse +than death in the London streets?" + +She held out her arms to him, as if praying him to save her once again. +He stood motionless, breathing heavily, swaying a little, as if impelled +at one moment to turn away and at another to meet her extended hands. + +"Then," he said at last--"then I should be of all men most miserable!" + +It was illogical, it was weak, it was base, after those words, to yield +to the tide of passion which for the first time in his life surged up in +his soul with its full strength and power. And yet he did yield--why, +let those who have loved like him explain. As soon as he had uttered his +protest, and it seemed as if the battle should be over and these two +divided from each other for evermore, the two leapt together, and were +clasped in each other's arms. + +She lay upon his breast; his arms were around her, his lips pressed +passionately to hers. In the ecstacy of that moment conscience was +forgotten, the past was obliterated; nothing but the fire and energy of +love remained. And then--quite suddenly--came a revulsion of feeling in +the mind of the man whose guilt had, after all, not left him utterly +without remorse. To Cynthia's terror and dismay, he sank upon his knees +before her, and, with his arms clasped round her waist, and his face +pressed close to her slight form, burst into a passion, an agony of +sobs. She did not know what to do or say! she could but entreat him to +be calm, repeating that she loved him--that she would love him to the +last day of her life. It was of no use, the agony would have its way. + +He did not try to explain his singular conduct. When he rose at last, he +kissed her on the forehead, and, murmuring, somewhat inarticulately, +that he would see her on the morrow, he left the room. She heard the +street door close, and knew, with a strange mixture of fear and joy, +that he had gone, and that he loved her. In the consciousness of this +latter fact she had no fear of the morrow. + +He might perhaps have kept his lips from an avowal of love, which was +afterwards bitter to him as death if he had known that at St. +Elizabeth's Cynthia West had once been known as the convict's daughter, +Jane Wood. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +"Look here, Cynthia," he said abruptly, when he met her the next +morning--"this won't do! I was to blame; I made a fool of myself last +night." + +"What--in saying that you loved me?" she inquired. + +"Yes--in saying that I loved you. You know very well that I did not +intend to say it." + +"Does that matter?" she asked, in a low voice. She had taken his hand, +and was caressing his strong white fingers tenderly. + +"I did it against my conscience." + +"Because of that other girl?" + +He considered a moment and then said "Yes." But he was not prepared for +the steadily penetrating gaze which she immediately turned upon him. + +"I don't quite believe that," she said slowly. + +"You doubt my word?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, in a dry matter-of-fact way; "I doubt everybody's +word. Nobody tells the whole truth in this agreeable world. You forget +that I am not a baby--that I have knocked about a good deal and seen the +seamy side of life. Perhaps you would like me better if I had not? You +would like me to have lived in the country all my life, and to be gentle +and innocent and dull?" + +"I could not like you better than as you are," he said, passing one arm +round her. + +"That's right. You do love me?" + +"Yes, Cynthia." + +"That is not a very warm assurance. Do you feel so coldly towards me +this morning?" + +"My dearest--no!" + +"That's better. Dear Hubert---- may I call you Hubert?"--he answered with +a little pressure of his arm--"if you really care for me, I can say what +I was going to say; but, if you don't--if that was how you made a fool +of yourself by saying so when you did not mean it--then tell me, and I +shall know whether to speak or to hold my tongue." + +She spoke forcibly, with a directness and simplicity which enchanted +Hubert in spite of himself. He assured her that he loved her from the +bottom of his heart, that she might speak freely, and that he would be +guided, if possible, by what she said--he knew that she was good and +wise and generous. And then he kissed her once more on the lips, and she +believed his words. She began to speak, blushing a little as she did so. + +"I only want to understand. You are not married, Hubert?" + +"My darling--no!" + +"And you said last night that you were not engaged?" + +"I am not engaged," he said more slowly. + +"You have--some other engagement--entanglement--of which I do not know?" + +"No, Cynthia." + +"Then," she, said, facing him with a boldness which he thoroughly +admired, "why do you want to draw back from what you said to me last +night?" + +Hubert looked more than serious--he looked unhappy. + +"Draw back," he said slowly--"that is a hard expression!" + +"It is a hard thing," she rejoined. + +"Cynthia, if I had suspected--if you had ever given me any reason to +suppose--that you were willing to think of me as more than a friend, I +would not have spoken. I am not worthy of you; I can but drag you back +from a brilliant career; it is not fair to you." + +The girl stood regarding him meditatively; there was neither fear nor +sign of yielding in her eyes. + +"That does not sound natural," she said; "it does not sound quite real. +Excuse me, but you would not, merely as a novelist, make your hero try +to back out of an engagement for that reason. If he gave it, the reader +would know at once there was something else--something in the +background. I believe that the amiable heroine would accept the +explanation and go away broken-hearted. But I," said Cynthia, with a +little stamp of impatience--"I am not amiable, and I mean neither to +believe in your explanation nor to break my heart; and so, Mr. Hubert +Lepel, you had better tell me what this is really all about." + +"Ah, Cynthia, I had better let you think me a fool or a brute than lead +you into this!" cried Hubert. + +"But I should never think you a fool or a brute, whatever you did." + +"You do not know what you might think of me--in other circumstances." + +"Try," she said, almost in a whisper, slipping her hand into his. + +But he shook his head and looked down, knitting his brows uneasily. + +"What will satisfy you?" she asked at length, evidently convinced from +his manner that something was more seriously amiss than she had thought. +"Do you not know that where I give my love I give my whole trust and +confidence. More than that, I shall never take it away, even if all the +world told me--even if I had some reason to believe--that you were not +worthy of my trust. Oh, what does the world know of you? I understand +you much better. Can't you see that a woman loves a man for what he is, +and not for what he does?" + +"What he does proceeds from what he is, Cynthia, I am afraid," said +Hubert sadly. + +"Not always. People are often betrayed into doing things that do not +show their real nature at all," said the girl eagerly. "A man gives way +to a sudden temptation--he strikes a blow--and the world calls him a +ruffian and a murderer; or he takes what belongs to another because he +is starving, and the world calls him a common thief. We cannot judge." + +He had drawn away from her, and was resting his arm on the mantelpiece, +and his head upon his arm. A strange vibration passed through his frame +as he listened to her words. + +"Do you think, then," he said at last, speaking with difficulty, and +without raising his head, "that you could love a man that the world +condemned, or would condemn, if they knew all--could you love a man who +was an outcast, a felon, a--a murderer?" + +"I am sure that I could," said Cynthia fervently. For the moment she was +not thinking of Hubert, however, but of another man whom she had loved, +and whom she had seen condemned to death for the murder of Sydney Vane. + +Hubert put out his left hand and drew her close to him. Even now there +was one thing that he dared not say; he did not dare ask her whether she +could love a man who had allowed another to bear the punishment which +he had deserved, although he had hidden his guilt from a desire to save +another rather than himself. He remained for a few moments in the same +posture, with his face hidden on his right arm and his left encircling +Cynthia; but, after a time, he stood up, drew her closer to his breast +and kissed her forehead. Then he put her away from him and crossed his +arms across his chest. His face was pale and drawn, there were beads of +perspiration on his forehead, and his lip was bitten underneath his +thick moustache. + +"Cynthia," he said hoarsely, "to you, at least, I will try to be an +honest man. I never knew a woman as brave, as true as you are; I'll do +my best, at any rate, to be not altogether unworthy of you, my darling. +I would give all I have in the world if I could ask you to marry me, +Cynthia; but I can't. There is an obstacle; you were right--I am not +free." + +"I thought there was some real reason," she said quietly. "I knew you +would not have spoken as you did without a reason." + +"I am not engaged; or perhaps I should say that I am engaged, and that +she is free. If at the end of two years she is stronger in health, and +her uncle withdraws his opposition, and she cares to accept me, I have +promised to be ready. The last thing I ever meant was to ask any other +woman to be my wife. But I was weak enough not to deny myself the +bitter-sweet solace of telling you that I loved you; and thus I have +drawn down punishment on myself. Cynthia, can you ever forgive me?" + +She did not answer; she seemed to be thinking deeply. After a few +minutes' silence, she looked at him wistfully, and asked another +question. + +"You said she did not love you. Was that true?" + +"I believe so." + +"Then why does she want to marry you?" There was something child-like in +Cynthia's tone. + +"I don't think she does, Cynthia; I think it is only her uncle's wife +who has been trying to bring about a marriage between us; and perhaps it +was my conviction that this marriage would never come about which made +me less careful than I might have been. Assuredly I never intended to +tell you what I told you last night." + +"But I am glad you did," said Cynthia, almost inaudibly. Then she put +her hand on Hubert's arm, and looked at him with a soft and beautiful +expression in her large dark eyes. "I am glad, because it will make life +easier for me to know that you care for me. Now I want you to listen to +me for a few moments. From what you say, I think that this girl is weak +in health, an orphan, and not perhaps very happy in her home? Yes, that +is so--is it not? Do you think then that I would for a moment rob her of +what might make all her happiness? You say that she does not care for +you. But you may be mistaken; you know you thought that--that I did not +care either. You must wait for her, and see what will happen at the end +of the two years. If she claims you then--well, it will be for you to +decide whether you will marry her; but I shall not marry you unless she +gives you up of her own free will. And, if she does--and if you care for +me still----" + +"Then you will be my wife?" + +Cynthia paused. + +"Then," she said slowly--"then you may, if you like, ask me again. But +then you will perhaps remember that I am a nobody--that I was born in a +cottage and educated at a charity-school--that I--that I---- No, I can't +tell you my history now--don't ask me; if you love me at all, don't ask +me that! I will tell you--I promise you--before I marry you, if ever--at +the end of two years--at the end of half a century--you ask me again." + +She was weeping in his arms--she, the brilliant, joyous, successful +woman, with a life of distinction opening out before her, with spirits +and courage that never failed, with beauty and gifts that were capable +of charming all the world--weeping like a child, and in need of comfort +like a child. What could he do? + +"My darling, my own darling," he said, "I cannot bear to hear you speak +so! Do you doubt my love for you, Cynthia? Tell me nothing but what you +please; I shall never ask you a question--never desire to know more than +what you choose to tell. And in two years---- Oh, what can I say? Marry +me to-morrow, Cynthia, my dearest, and let everything else go by!" + +"And despise you ever after for yielding to my weakness?" she said, +checking her tears. "Do you think I could bear you to lower yourself for +my sake? No; you shall keep your word to her--to the woman, whoever she +may be, who has your word. But I--I have your heart." + +She sent him away from her then with proud but gentle words, caressing +him, flattering him, after the fashion of women with those they love, +but inexorably determined that he should keep his word. For she had a +strong sense of honor and honesty, and she could not bear to think that +he could be false to anyone who trusted him. It was weighing heavily on +her own conscience that she had deceived him once. + +Hubert left her with his senses in a whirl. He knew, as he said, that he +had been weak; but Cynthia's beauty intoxicated him. But for her +determination, her courage, he would have failed to keep up even the +appearance of faith with Enid--he would have been utterly careless of +Enid's trust in him. But this declension Cynthia was resolved not to +permit. It was strange to see what nobleness of mind and generosity of +feeling existed beneath her light and careless demeanor; and while these +characteristics humiliated her lover, they filled him with genuine pride +and admiration. She was not a woman to be lightly wooed and lightly won; +she was worthy of respect, even of reverence. And, as he thought of her, +his heart burned with anger against the innocent girl at Beechfield who +had dared to speak of this noble woman with something very like +contempt. + +Cynthia was glad that she had no public engagement for that evening. She +was invited to go with Madame della Scala to a large party; but she +pleaded a headache, and begged to be allowed to stay at home. Madame +scolded her playfully, but did not oppose her whim; she was sufficiently +proud of her pupil and housemate to let her take her own way--a +practical compliment for which Cynthia was grateful. + +When the old lady had gone, Cynthia returned to her favorite +rose-lighted sitting-room, and sank somewhat languidly into a +lounging-chair. She had forbidden Hubert to return to her that +night--she had said that she wanted to be alone; and now she was half +inclined to repent her own peremptoriness. "I might have let him come +just once," she said to herself. "I shall not allow him to come often, +or to be anything but a friend to me; but I feel lonely to-night. It is +foolish of me to be depressed. A month ago I should have thought myself +happy indeed if I could have known that he loved me; and now I am more +miserable than ever. I suppose it is the thought of that other +girl--mean, jealous, miserable wretch that I am! But I will not be mean +or jealous any longer. He has promised himself to her, and he shall keep +his word." + +She was startled from these reflections by the sound of a tap at the +door, followed by the entrance of a maid whose office it was especially +to attend on Miss West. + +"If you please, miss," she said, in a low and rather confidential +tone--"if you please, there's a--a person at the door that asks to see +you." + +"It is late for visitors," said Cynthia. "A lady, Mary?" + +"No, miss." + +"A gentleman? I do not see gentlemen, when Madame is out, at this hour +of the night. It is ten o'clock. Tell him to come to-morrow." + +"I did, miss. He said to-morrow wouldn't do. He asked me to mention +'Beechfield' to you, miss, and to say that he came from America." + +"Old or young, Mary?" The color was leaving Cynthia's face. + +"Old, miss. He has white hair and black eyes, and looks like a sort of +superior working-man." + +Cynthia deliberated. Mary watched her in silence, and then made a +low-voiced suggestion. + +"There's cook's young man in the kitchen, miss, and he's a policeman. +Shall I ask him to step up to the front and tell the man to move on?" + +"Oh, no, no!" said Cynthia, suddenly shrinking. "I will see the man, +Mary. I think that perhaps he knows a place--some people that I used to +know." + +There was a sort of terror in her face. Mary turned rather reluctantly +to the door. + +"Shall I come in too, miss, or shall I stand in the passage?" + +"Neither," said Cynthia, with a little laugh. "Go down to your supper, +Mary, and I will manage the visitor. Show him in here." + +She seemed so composed once more that Mary was reassured. The girl went +back to the hall door, and Cynthia rose to her feet with the look of one +who was nerving herself for some terrible ordeal. She kept her eyes upon +the door; but, when the visitor appeared, they were so dim with +agitation that she could hardly see the face or the features of the man +whom Mary decorously announced as-- + +"Mr. Reuben Dare." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Cynthia looked round at her visitor with a sort of timidity which she +did not often exhibit. He was apparently about sixty years of age, +broad-shouldered, and muscularly built, but with a stiffness of gait +which seemed to be either the result of chronic rheumatism or of an +accident which had partially disabled him. His face was brown, his eyes +were dark and bright; but his hair and beard were almost white, although +his eyebrows had not a grizzled tint. He was roughly but respectably +dressed, and looked like a prosperous yeoman or an artisan of the better +class. Cynthia glanced at him keenly, then seemed to gain confidence, +and asked him to sit down. The visitor obeyed; but Cynthia continued +standing, with her hands on the back of a heavy chair. + +"Mr. Reuben Dare?" she said at length, as the old man did not speak. + +"Come straight from Ameriky," said he--he sat bolt-upright on his chair, +and looked at the girl with a steady interest and curiosity which almost +embarrassed her--"and promised to look you up as soon as I got over +here. Can you guess who 'twas I promised, missy?" + +Cynthia grew first red and then white. + +"No," she said; "I am not sure that I can." + +"Is there nobody belonging to you that you haven't heard of for years +and years?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia; "I think perhaps there is." + +"A man," said Mr. Reuben Dare, leaning forward with his hands on his +knees, and trying to subdue his rather harsh voice to quietness--"a man +as was related to you, maybe?" + +"If you will say what you mean, I think I can answer you better," said +Cynthia. + +"Do you think I am going to say what I mean until I know what sort of a +young woman you are, and how you'll take the news I bring you?" said the +man. + +With a somewhat savage and truculent air he drew his eyebrows down over +his eyes as he spoke; but there was a touch of something else as +well--of stirred emotion, of doubt, of troubled feeling--which +dissipated Cynthia's fears at once. She left the chair which she had +been grasping with one hand, and came closer to her visitor. + +"I see that you are afraid to trust me," she said quickly. "You think +that perhaps I am hard and worldly, and do not want to have anything to +do with my relatives? That is not true. You are thinking--speaking--of +my poor father perhaps. As long as I was a child--a mere girl--I did not +think much about him, I was content to believe what people told me--not +that he was guilty--I never believed that!--but that I could do nothing +for him, and that I had better not interfere. When I was independent and +beginning to think for myself--about six months ago--I found out what I +might have done. Shall I go on to tell you what I did?" + +"Yes, yes--go on!" The man's voice was husky; his wrinkled hand trembled +as it lay upon his knee. He watched the girl's face with hungry eyes. + +"I wrote to the Governor of the prison," said Cynthia, "and told him +that I had only just discovered--having been such a child--that I could +write to my father or see him at regular intervals, and that I should +like to do so from time to time. He asked me in return how it was that +an intimation--which had been forwarded, I believe, to certain persons +interested in my welfare--of my father's fate had not been given to me. +My father had, by a desperate effort, succeeded in escaping from +Portland; he had never been recaptured; and, from certain information +received, the authorities believed that he was dead. He added however +that he had a shrewd suspicion that Andrew Westwood had thrown dust into +the eyes of the police, had left the country, and was not dead at all." + +"And begged you to communicate with the authorities if you heard from +him, I suppose?" + +"No; he did not go so far as that to the man's own daughter," said +Cynthia calmly. "And it would, of course, have been useless if he had." + +"Why--why?" + +"Because," said the girl, her lips suddenly trembling and her eyes +filling with tears--"because I love my father, and would do anything in +the world for him--if he would let me. Can you not tell me where he is? +I would give all I have to see him once again!" + +Reuben Dare fidgeted in his chair, and half turned his face away. Then, +without meeting her eager tearful eyes, he replied half sullenly-- + +"The Governor was right. He got away--away to America." + +"Oh, then he is living still? He is well?" + +"Oh, yes--he's living, and well enough! He hasn't done so badly neither. +He got some land and 'struck ile,' as they say in America; and living +under another name, and nobody knowing anything about him--he--well, +he's had fair luck." + +"And you come from him--you are a friend of his? Did he want to hear of +me?" + +"Yes, missy, he did. But he would scarce ha' known you if he'd met you +in the street--you, grown so tall and handsome and dressed so fine. It +was your name as gave him the clue--'Cynthia'--'Cynthia West'; for he +read in the papers as you were singing at concerts, and he says to +himself, 'Why, that's my gal, sure enough; and she hain't forgotten her +mother's name!'" + +"Go on!" said Cynthia quickly. + +"Go on? What do you mean?" asked Reuben Dare, a little suspiciously. +"There's nothing more to say, is there? And he asked me to make +inquiries while I was in England--that was all." + +"Oh, no, that was not all!" said Cynthia, drawing nearer, and holding +out her hands a little, like one under hypnotic influence, fascinated by +a power over which she had no control. "I can tell you the rest. The +more he thought of his child, and the more he remembered how she used to +love him and trust in him, the more he felt that he could not stay away +from her; and so, although the risk was great--terrible--he determined +to come back to England and see with his own eyes whether she was safe +and well. And when he saw her"--there was a sob in her voice--"he said +to himself that perhaps after all she was a hard, unfeeling creature who +had forgotten him, or a wicked, treacherous woman who would betray her +own father, and that he would go away back to America and never see her +again, forgetting to ask whether she had not a heart and a memory too, +and whether it might not be that she had loved him all her life, and +whether she was not longing to fall upon his neck and kiss his dear +face, and tell him that she wanted a father for many, many dreary years, +and that she trusts him, believes in him, loves him with all her heart! +Oh, father, father!"--and Cynthia lay sobbing on his breast. + +She had thrown herself impulsively on her knees beside him; her arms +were round his neck, and he was covering her face with kisses. He did +not attempt to deny that she had spoken the truth--that he was indeed +her father--the man who had been condemned to death, and whom she had +believed until this moment to be in America, if still indeed alive; but +neither did he try to prove the fact. He sat still, with his arms round +her, and--to her surprise--the tears running down his cheeks as freely +as they were running down her own. She looked up at him at last and +smiled rather piteously in his face. + +"Dear father," she said, "and have you come all this way and run into so +much danger just to see me?" + +"Yes, I have, Cynthy," said the man who called himself Reuben Dare. "I +said to myself, I can't get on any longer without seeing her, any way. +If that's my girl that sings--as her mother did before her--I shall know +her in a trice. But, bless you, my girl, I didn't--not till you began to +speak! And then t'was just like your mother." + +"Am I so much altered?" said Cynthia wistfully. + +"As much as you ought to be, my beauty, and no more. You ain't like the +skinny little bit of a thing that ran wild round Beechfield lanes; but +then you don't want to be. You're a good deal like your mother; but she +wasn't as dark as you. And, being so different, you see, I thought you +might be different in yourself--not ready to acknowledge your father as +belonging to you at all, maybe; and so I'd try you with a message first +and see what you said to that." + +"You are altered too, father." + +"Yes, my deary, I'm altered too. Hain't I had enough to alter me? +Injustice and oppression have almost broke my heart, and ague and +fever's taken the strength out o' my limbs, and a knock I got in the +States three years ago has nigh crippled me. I'm a broken-down man, with +only strength left for one thing--and that's to curse the hard-hearted +ruffian, whoever he was, that spoiled my life for me, and thought to +hang me by the neck or shut me up in prison for the rest of my days. If +ever I could come across him, I'd do my best to make him suffer as I +have suffered. I pray God night and day that He'll let me see that +rascal on his knees to me yet before I die!" + +His voice had grown loud and fierce, his eyes shone beneath the shaggy +eyebrows, his hand shook as he raised it to call down vengeance on the +man who had left him to his fate. Cynthia trembled in spite of her love +for him--the tones, the look, brought back memories which made her feel +that her father was in a great many ways unchanged, and that the wild, +lawless nature of the man might be suppressed but never utterly subdued. +She did not feel the slightest abatement of her love for him on this +account; but it suddenly made her aware of the dangers and difficulties +of his position, and aroused her fears for his safety, even in that +house. + +"Father," she said "are you sure that nobody will remember you?" + +Westwood laughed harshly. + +"They're not likely to know me," he said. "I've taken care to change my +looks since then;" and, by a sudden movement of his hand, he showed her +that hair, beard, and moustache were all fictitious, and that beneath +the silvery exterior there grew a scantier crop of sparse gray hair and +whiskers, which recalled his former appearance much more clearly to his +daughter's mind. + +"Oh, don't take them off!" she cried. "Somebody may come in--the door is +not locked! At another time, dear father, you will show me your real +face, will you not?" + +He looked at her with a mingling of pride and sorrow in his glance. + +"And you ain't wanting me to be found out then--you don't want to give +me up to the police?" + +"Father, how can you think of such a thing?" + +"Some women-folks would think of it, my girl. But you--you're fond of +your father still, Cynthy?" + +She answered by taking his rough hand in her own and kissing it +tenderly. + +"And you don't believe I killed Mr. Vane down at Beechfield--eh, Cynthy? +Because if you believe it, you know, you and me had better part without +more words about it. Least said, soonest mended." + +"I do not believe it--I never did!" said Cynthia proudly. + +"On your word and honor and Bible-oath, Cynthia?" + +"On my word and honor and on my Bible-oath, father," she said, repeating +the words, because she saw that he attached especial importance to the +formula. "I never believed and never will believe that you were guilty +of Sydney Vane's murder! My father"--she said it as proudly as if he had +been a Royal Prince--"was never capable of a base and wicked deed!" + +"It's her mother's voice," murmured the man, raising his hand to his +eyes, as if to shut out the sight of the young girl's face, and to +abstract himself from everything but the sound, "and it's her mother's +trust in me! Cynthia, my dear, what do you know o' your father to make +you so ready to stand by him?" There was a great and an unaccustomed +tenderness in his tone. "I'm a common man, and I've spent years of my +life in gaol, and I was a tramp and a poacher--I won't deny it--in the +olden days; and before that--well, before that, I was a gamekeeper on a +big estate--turned away in disgrace, my dear, because my master's +daughter fell in love with me. You never heard that before, did +you?--though any one would guess that you didn't come of a common stock! +Wetheral was her name--Cynthia Wetheral of Bingley Park, in +Gloucestershire. There are relatives of hers living there still; but +they don't acknowledge us--they won't have anything to do with you, +Cynthia, my girl. I married her and took her away wi' me; and for twelve +blessed months we were as happy as the day was long; and then she died." +He paused a little, and caressed Cynthia's head with his hand. + +"You're like her, my dear. But I'm only a low common sort o' man that +sunk lower and lower since the day she died; and you've no call to trust +me unless you feel inclined--no call in the very least. If you say you +don't quite believe my word, my pretty, I'll not cut up rough--I'll just +go away quiet, and never trouble you any more." + +"Father," said Cynthia, "listen to me one moment. We were separated when +I was only eleven years old; but don't you think that in eleven years I +could learn something of your real disposition--your true nature? I +remember how you used to care for me, how tender and kind you were to +me, although you might perhaps seem gloomy and morose to all the world +beside. I remember your bringing home a dog with a broken leg, and +nursing it till it was cured. You had pets of all kinds--birds, beasts, +flowers. You never did a cruel thing in your life; and how could I think +then, that you would lie in wait to kill a man out of mere spite and +revenge--a man, too, with a wife and a child--a little girl like me? I +knew you better, father, all the time!" + +Westwood shook his head doubtfully. + +"Maybe you're right," he said, "and maybe wrong. I've seen rough deeds +done in my day, and never lifted a hand to interfere. I won't deny but +what I did lie in wait for Mr. Vane that very afternoon--but with no +thought of murder in my mind. I meant to tell him what my opinion was of +him and of his doings; for there was carryings-on that I didn't approve +of, and it's my belief that in those very carryings-on lies the key of +the mystery. I've thought it all out in prison, slow-like--at nights +when I lay in bed, and days when I was hewing stone. I won't tell you +the story, my pretty; it ain't fit for the likes of you. But there was a +woman mixed up in it; and, if there was any man who had rights over the +woman--sweetheart or husband, brother or father, or such-like--it's in +that quarter that you and me should look for the real murderer of Sydney +Vane." + +"Can't we do anything, father? Won't you tell me the whole story?" + +"Not now, my girl; I must be going." + +"Where are you going, father? Will you be in a safe place?" + +"Quite safe, my dear--quite safe! Nobody would know me in this guise, +would they? I'm at No. 119 Isabella Street, Camden Town--quite a little +out-o'-the-way place--just the sort to suit a quiet respectable-looking +man like me." He gave vent to a grim little chuckle as he went on. "They +don't know who they've got hold of, do they? Maybe they wouldn't be +quite so pleased if they did." + +"May I come and see you there, father?" + +"Well, my girl, I think not. Such a--a splendid-looking sort of a party +as you've turned out coming to visit me would make people talk. And we +don't want people to talk, do we? Isn't there any quiet spot where you +and me could meet and walk about a bit? Kensington Gardens; maybe, or +Regent's Park?" + +Cynthia thought that Kensington Gardens would be quiet enough in the +morning for their purpose, and it was agreed that they should meet there +the next day at noon. Westwood's disguise was so perfect that he did not +attempt to seclude himself during the day. + +"And then," he said, "we can talk about you coming over to Ameriky, and +living happy and quiet somewhere with me." + +"Oh, I can't leave England!" said Cynthia, with a sudden little gasp. +"Don't ask me, father; I can't possibly go away." + +He looked at her keenly and scrutinisingly for a moment, and then he +said-- + +"That means that you've got a reason for wanting to stop in England. +That means that you've got a sweetheart--a lover, my pretty--and that +you won't leave him. I know the ways of women well enough. I don't want +to force you, my girl; but I hope that he's worthy of the woman you've +grown to be. Tell me his name." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Cynthia's father did not get his question answered, because at that +moment a thundering knock at the front-door announced the return of +Madame, and there was rather a hasty struggle to get him away from the +house without encountering that lady's sharp eyes and vivacious +questioning, which Cynthia was not at all sure that he could meet with +equanimity. For herself she felt at that moment equal to any struggle +involving either cunning or courage. She could combat to death for one +she loved. + +"Who was that man, _carissima_? Why was he here at this hour of the +night? You are a little imprudent, are you not, to receive such visitors +without me?" said Madame, having caught a glimpse of the intruder's +retiring figure. + +Cynthia laughed. + +"He is venerable, Madame--white-bearded, old, and a relative--an uncle +from America whom I have not seen since I was a child. I believe that he +has made a fortune and wants to endow me with it. We shall see!" + +"Ah, my angel, if he would do that," cried Madame cheerfully, "we would +welcome him at any hour of the day or night, would not we? Bid him to +dinner with thee, little one, or to tea, after thy English fashion--as +thou wilt. The uncle with money is always a desired visitor." + +And thus Cynthia escaped further questioning, although at the cost of an +untruth which she did not consider it her duty to repent. "For surely," +she said to herself, "it is right for a daughter to sacrifice anything +and everything to her father's safety! I was ashamed of having to tell +Hubert what was not true just for my own benefit; but I am not ashamed +of deceiving Madame for my father's sake. I am sorry--ah, yes, I am +sorry! But what can I do?" And in the solitude of her own room Cynthia +wrung her hands together, and shed a few bitter tears over the hardness +and strangeness of her fate. + +To one who knew all the facts of her story and her father's story, it +might indeed have been a matter for meditation that "wrong-doing never +ends"--that, because Sydney Vane had been an unprincipled man and +Florence Lepel a woman without a conscience, therefore a child of whom +they never heard had grown up without the presence of a father's love, +or the innate reverence for truth that prevailed in the heart of a +Jeanie Deans. Cynthia was no Jeanie Deans; she was a faulty but +noble-hearted woman, with a nature that had suffered some slight warping +from the effect of adverse circumstance. + +Cynthia and her father met the next morning under the spreading branches +of the trees in Kensington Gardens; and there, as they walked up and +down together, Westwood unfolded his plans. From what he let +slip--although he tried not to be too definite--it was evident that he +had made considerable sums of money, or what he thought such; and he +wanted Cynthia to give up working, and "go West" with him. He assured +her that she should have every comfort, every luxury; that he was likely +to make more and more money as time went on, and that he might even +become a millionaire. Would she not partake of the magnificence that was +in store for her? But Cynthia shook her head. And then he spoke of his +loneliness, of his long absence from his only child, and his desire to +have a home of his own; now that he began to feel the infirmities of +age, he not only wanted a daughter as an ornament to his house, but as +the prop of his declining years. And at this Cynthia shed tears and +began to waver. Ought she not to go with her father? she asked herself. +It might be better for Hubert, as well as for her, if she went away; +and, even if at the end of two years she became Hubert's wife, she would +at any rate have had two years with her father. And, if Hubert married +"the other girl," she would stay with her father until his life's +end--or hers. But the fact remained at the end of all arguments--she did +not want to go. + +"What do you want to stay in England for?" Westwood said at length. "Is +it to make money? I've got enough for both of us. Is it to sing in +public? You'll get bigger audiences over there, my girl. If you love +your old father as you say you do, why won't you come along with him?" +He paused, and added, almost in a whisper, "Unless there's somebody you +like better, I don't see why you want to stay." + +Cynthia's face turned crimson immediately. Her father's words made her +feel very guilty. She loved him--true; but she loved Hubert better, and +she had not known it until that moment. She knew it thoroughly now. + +"Well," said Westwood, in a peculiarly dogged tone, "I see what's up. +Who is he?" + +"He is a very clever man, father," said Cynthia, keeping her hot face +away from him as much as possible--"a literary man; he writes plays and +novels and poetry. He is thought a great deal of in London." + +"As poor as a rat, and wants you to keep him. Is that it?" + +"Oh, no, indeed, father! He makes a great deal of money. It was he who +sent me to Italy to study music; he paid for me to live where I do, with +Madame della Scala." + +They were in a quiet part of the Gardens, and her father suddenly laid +an iron grip upon her wrist. + +"Look at me," he burst out--"tell me the truth! You--you ain't--you +ain't bound to him in any way?" He dare not, after all, put his sudden +suspicion into plainer words. "It's all fair and square? He's asked you +to be his wife, and not----" + +Cynthia wrenched away her arm. + +"I did not think that my own father would insult me!" she said, in a +voice which, though low, vibrated with anger. "I am quite well able to +take care of my own honor and dignity; and Mr. Lepel would never dream +of assailing either." + +Then she broke down a little, and a few tears made their way over the +scarlet of her cheeks; but of these signs of distress her father took no +notice. He stood still in the middle of the path down which they had +been walking, and repeated the name incredulously. + +"'Lepel'! 'Lepel'! Is that your sweetheart's name?" + +"'Hubert Lepel.' It is a well-known name," said Cynthia, with head +erect. + +"Hubert Lepel! Not the man at Beechfield, the cousin of those Vanes?" He +spoke in a whisper, with his eyes fixed on his daughter's face. + +Cynthia turned very pale. + +"I do not know. Oh, it can't be the same," she said. + +"It's not likely that there are two men of the same name. He was a +cousin of the man who was killed, I tell you; and he was the +brother--the brother----" Suddenly Westwood stopped short; his eyes fell +to the ground, his breathing quickened; he thrust his hands into his +pockets and frowned heavily as he reflected. "Have I got a clue?" he +said, more to himself than to Cynthia. "He's the brother of that +woman--the woman that Sydney Vane used to meet in the wood so often, and +thought that nobody knew. Did he--did he----" But, raising his eyes +suddenly, he saw the whiteness of Cynthia's face, and did not finish his +question. "Listen to me!" he said, with sudden sternness. "This man +belongs to them that put me in prison and believe me to have murdered +Sydney Vane. Do you understand that, girl?" + +"Father, he would trust you--he would believe in you--if once he saw you +and talked to you." + +"So you mean to betray me to him, do you?" + +"Father--dear father!" + +"If you say a word to him about my being in England, Cynthia, you may +just as well put a rope round my neck or give me a dose of poison. For +buried alive at Portland I never will be again!" + +"He would no more betray you, father, than----" + +"Promise me that you'll not breathe a word to him about me!" + +"I promise." + +"And swear?" + +"I swear, father--not until you give me leave." + +"I shall never give you leave. Do you want to kill me, Cynthia? I'd +never have thought it of you after all you said! Come, my girl, you +needn't cry; I did not mean to suspect you; but I'm so used to being on +my guard. Does he know whose daughter you are?" + +"No, father." + +"You haven't dared to tell him, and yet you wanted to put my safety in +his hands!" + +"I am sure he is too kind, too noble, to think of betraying any one!" +Cynthia pleaded; but her father would not hear. + +"Tut! If he thinks I murdered his cousin, he wouldn't feel any +particular call to be kind to me, I guess. I should like to understand +all about this affair, Cynthia. Come, sit down on this bench here under +the trees, and tell me about it. Don't vex yourself over what I said; I +was but carried away by the heat of the moment. Now are you promised to +this Mr. Lepel--engaged to him, as you young folk call it?" + +"I don't know whether I can tell you anything, father," murmured +Cynthia. + +"You'd better," said Westwood quietly, "because it hangs on a thread +whether I ain't going to denounce Mr. Lepel as the man that killed Mr. +Sydney Vane. I never thought of him before, although I did see him at +the trial and knew that he'd been hanging round the place. He was her +brother, sure enough--he had a motive. Well, Cynthia?" + +"Father, if you are thinking such terrible things of Hubert, how can I +tell you anything? You know I--I love him; if you accuse him of a crime, +I shall cling to him still--and love him still--and save him if I can." + +"At your father's expense, girl?" + +She writhed at the question, and twisted her fingers nervously together, +but did not speak. Westwood waited for a minute or two, and then +resumed--this time very bitterly. + +"It's always so! The lover always drives the parent out of the young +folks' hearts. For this man--that you haven't known more than a few +months, I suppose--you'd give up your father to worse than the +gallows--to the misery of a life sentence--and be glad, maybe, to see +the last of him! If it was him or me, you would save him--and perhaps +you're in the right of it. I wish," said the man, turning away his +face--"I wish to God that I'd never come back to England, nor seen the +face of my girl again!" + +Cynthia had been physically incapable hitherto of stemming the flow of +his words; but now, although she was trembling with excitement and +sorrow and indignation, she answered her father's accusation resolutely. + +"You are wrong, father. I will not sacrifice you to him. But you must +not expect me to sacrifice him to you either. My heart is large enough +to hold you both." + +There was a pathos in the tone of her last few words which impressed +even Westwood's not very plastic nature. He turned towards her, noting +with half-unconscious anxiety the whiteness of the girl's lips, the +shadow that seemed to have descended upon her eyes. He put out his rough +hand and touched her daintily gloved fingers. + +"Don't be put out by what I say, my girl! If I speak sharp, it's because +I feel deep. I won't be hard on any one you care for, I give you my +word; but it'll be the best thing for you to be fair and square with me +and tell me all about him. Are you going to marry him?" + +"He wishes to marry me," said Cynthia, yielding, with a sigh; "but there +has been an arrangement--a sort of family arrangement, I understand--by +which he must--ought to marry a young lady in two years, when she is +twenty or twenty-one, if she consents and if she is strong enough. She +is ill now, and she does not seem to care for him. That is all I know. I +have promised to marry him if he is free at the end of the two years." + +It sounded a lame story--worse, when she told it, than when she had +discussed it with Hubert Lepel or wept over it in her own room. Westwood +uttered a growl of anger. + +"And you're at his beck and call like that! He is to take you or leave +you as he pleases! Pretty state of matters for a girl like you! Why, +with your face and your pretty voice and your education, I should think +that you could have half Lunnon if you chose!" + +"Not I," said Cynthia, laughing with a little of her old spirit--"or, if +I had, it would be the wrong half, father. Besides, Mr. Lepel is not to +blame. He--he would marry me to-morrow, I believe, if I would allow it; +it was I that arranged to wait. I would rather wait. Why should I marry +anybody before I have seen the world?" + +"Where does Mr. Lepel live, Cynthy?" said Westwood slowly, as if he had +not been attending very much to what she said. + +Cynthia hesitated; then she gave him Hubert's address. She knew that her +father could easily get it elsewhere, and that it would only irritate +him if she refused. Besides, she had too much confidence in her lover to +think that harm could come of her father's knowledge of the place in +which he lived. But she was a little surprised when her father at once +stood, up and said, with his former placidity of tone-- + +"Well, then, my dear, I'm a-going round to look at Mr. Lepel. I'm not +going to harm him, nor even maybe to speak to him; but I want to have a +little look at him before I see you again. And then I shall maybe go out +of town for a bit. There are one or two places I want to look at again. +So you needn't be surprised if you don't hear from me again just yet a +while. I'll write when I come back." + +"Oh, father, you will not run into any danger, will you?" + +"Not a bit, my dear. There's not a soul on earth would know me as I am +now. Don't you be afraid! I'll walk back with you to the gate, and, then +we'd better say good-bye. If you want anything special, write to +me--Reuben Dare, you know--at the address I gave you; but even then, my +girl, don't you mention names. It's a dangerous thing to do on paper." + +"I'll remember," said Cynthia, with unwonted submissiveness. + +They parted at the gate, and Westwood, without looking round, went some +paces in the easterly direction which he had chosen to take. But all at +once he heard a light footstep behind him, and a small gloved hand was +laid upon his arm. It was Cynthia, slightly flushed and panting a +little, her eyes unusually bright. She ran after him with a last word to +say. + +"Father," she said, "you will remember, will you not, that, although I +love him, I love you too?" + +"Do you, Cynthia?" said the man, rather sadly. "Well, maybe--maybe." + +"And that you are to take care of yourself for my sake?" + +"Eh? For your sake? Yes, my dear--yes." + +"Good-bye, dear father!" + +He nodded simply in reply; but, as he pursued his way eastward, his +heart grew softer towards his child's lover than it would otherwise have +been. How beautiful she had looked with those flushed cheeks and shining +eyes! What was he that he should interfere with her happiness? If the +man that she loved was good and true why should he not marry her, +although he was a kinsman of the Vanes and the brother of a woman whom +Westwood held in peculiar abhorrence? For accident had revealed to him +many years before the relation between Sydney Vane and Florence Lepel, +and she had seemed to him then and ever since to be less of a woman than +a fiend. Yet, being somewhat slow in drawing conclusions, he had never +associated her or her brother with Mr. Vane's death, until, in the +solitude of his cell, he had laboriously "put two and two together" in a +way which had not suggested itself either to himself or to his defenders +at the time of the trial. He himself, from a strange mixture of delicate +feeling and gruff reserve, had not chosen to tell what he knew about +Miss Lepel and Sydney Vane; and only when it was too late did it occur +to him that his silence had cost him his freedom, and might have cost +him his life. He saw it all clearly now. It was quite plain to him that +in some way or other Mr. Vane's death had been caused through his +unfaithfulness to his wife. Some one had wished to punish him--some +friend of hers, some friend of Miss Lepel's. Right enough he deserved to +be killed, said Westwood to himself, as he elaborated his theory. If +only the slayer, the avenger, had not refused to take the responsibility +of his act upon his own shoulders! "If only he hadn't been cur enough;" +Westwood muttered to himself, as he went along the London streets, "to +leave me--a poor man, a common man, that only Cynthia loved--to bear the +blame!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +When Hubert Lepel quitted Beechfield, a sudden calm, almost a stagnation +of interest, seemed to fall upon the place. Mrs. Vane was said to be +"less strong" than usual; the spring weather tried her; she must be kept +quiet, the doctor said, and, if possible, tranquil in mind. + +"God bless my soul, isn't she tranquil in mind?" the General had almost +shouted, when Mr. Ingledew gave this opinion. "What else can she be? She +hasn't a single thing to worry her; or, if she has, she has only to +mention it and it will be set right at once." + +The village doctor smiled amiably. He was a pale, thin, dark little man, +with insight rather in advance of his actual knowledge. He would have +been puzzled to say why he had jumped to the conclusion that Mrs. Vane's +mind was not quite tranquil; but he was sure that it was not. Possibly, +he was influenced by the conviction that it ought not to be tranquil; +for, in the course of his visits among the villagers, he had heard some +of the ugly rumors about Flossy's past, which were more prevalent than +Mrs. Vane herself suspected and than the General ever had it in his +power to conceive. + +"Well, sir," he said--for Mr. Ingledew was always very deferential to +the Squire of the parish--"what I meant was more perhaps that Mrs. Vane +requires perfect freedom from all anxiety for the future than that she +is suffering from uneasiness of mind at present. Possibly Mrs. Vane is a +little anxious from time to time about Master Dick, who is not of a +particularly robust constitution, or perhaps about Miss Vane, who does +not strike me as looking exactly what I should call 'the thing.'" + +"No--does she, Ingledew?" said the General, diverted at once from the +consideration of his wife's health to that of his niece. "She's pale and +peaky, is she not? Have you seen her to-day?" + +"H'm--not professionally," replied Mr. Ingledew, rubbing his chin. "In +point of fact, Mrs. Vane intimated to me that Miss Vane refused to see +me--to see a doctor at all. I am sorry, for Miss Vane's own sake, as I +think that she is not looking well at present--not at all well." + +"There she goes!" cried the General. "We'll have her in, and hear what +all this is about. Enid, Enid--come here!" + +He had seen her in the conservatory, which ran along one side of the +house. He and Mr. Ingledew were sitting in the library, and through its +half-open glass door he had caught sight of the girl's white gown +amongst the flowers. She turned instantly at his call. + +"Did you want me, uncle?" + +"Yes, dear. You are not looking well, Enid; we are concerned about you," +said the General, going up to her and taking her by the hand. "Why do +you refuse to see a doctor, my dear child?" + +"But I have not refused, uncle." + +"Oh--er--Mr. Ingledew----" + +"I understood from Mrs. Vane," said the doctor, "that you did not wish +for medical advice, Miss Vane." + +Enid colored a little, and was silent for a moment; then she answered, +in her usual gentle way-- + +"I had some disinclination a few days ago to consult a doctor, and +perhaps Mrs. Vane has accidentally laid more stress upon my saying so +than I intended. But I am quite willing--now--to consult Mr. Ingledew a +little." + +She sank into a chair as if she were very tired, and for a moment closed +her eyes. Her face was almost colorless, and there were violet tints on +her eyelids and her lips. Mr. Ingledew looked at her gravely and knit +his brows. He knew well that her explanation of Mrs. Vane's words was +quite insufficient. Mrs. Vane had sweetly and solemnly assured him that +she had begged "dear Enid" to see a doctor--Mr. Ingledew or another--and +that she had firmly refused to do so, saying that she felt quite well. +Enid's words did not tally with Mrs. Vane's report at all. The doctor +knew which of the two women he would rather believe. + +The General walked away, leaving the patient and the medical man +together. At the close of the interview, which did not last more than a +few minutes, Enid rose with a weary little smile and left the room. The +General came back to Ingledew. + +"Well, Ingledew?"--Mr. Ingledew looked grave. + +"I should not say that there was anything very serious," he said; "but +Miss Vane certainly requires care. She suffers from palpitation of the +heart and faintness; her pulse is intermittent; she complains of nausea +and dizziness. Without stethoscopic examination I cannot of course be +sure whether there is anything organically wrong; but I should +conclude--judging as well as I can without the aid of auscultation--that +there was some disturbance--functional disturbance--of the heart." + +"Heart! Dear, dear--that's very serious, is it not?" + +"Oh, not necessarily so! It may be a mere passing derangement produced +by indigestion," said the doctor prosaically. "I will come in again +to-morrow and sound her. I hope it is nothing more than a temporary +indisposition." And so Mr. Ingledew took his leave. + +"Mrs. Vane didn't want me to see her!" he said, as he left the house. "I +wonder why?" + +Meanwhile Enid, passing out into the hall, had been obliged to stand +still once or twice by reason of the dizziness that threatened to +overcome her. She leaned against the wall until the feeling had gone +off, and then dragged herself slowly up the stairs. She had suffered in +this way only for the last week or two--since Hubert went away. At first +she had thought that the warm spring weather was making her feel weak +and ill; but she did not remember that it had ever done so before. She +had generally revived with the spring, and been stronger and better in +the warmth and sunshine of summer. She could not understand why this +spring should make her feel so ill. She went into her own room and lay +down flat on the bed. She had the sensation of wishing to sink deeper +and deeper down, as if she could not sink too low. Her heart seemed to +beat more and more slowly; each breath that she drew was an effort to +her. She wondered a little if she was going to die. + +Presently she heard somebody enter the room. She was not strong enough +to turn her head; but she opened her eyes and saw her maid Parker +standing beside her bed and regarding her with alarm. + +"Law, miss, you do look bad!" she said. + +Enid's white lips moved and tears trembled on her eyelashes; but she did +not speak. Parker, seriously alarmed, hastened to procure +smelling-salts, brandy, and eau-de-Cologne, and, with a few minutes' +care, these applications produced the desired result. Enid looked a +little less death-like; she smiled as she took a dose of brandy and +sal-volatile, and moved her fingers towards the woman at her side. +Parker did not at first know what she wanted, but discovered at last +that the girl wanted to hold her hand. Contact with something human +seemed to help to bring her back from the shadowy borderland where she +had been wandering. Parker, astonished and confused, wanted to draw away +her hand; but the small cold fingers closed over it resistlessly. Then +the woman stood motionless, holding a vinaigrette in her free hand, and +looking at the pale face on the pillow, at the pathetic blue eyes which +sought her own from time to time as if in want of pity. Something made +Parker's heart beat fast and the hot tears came into her hard, dark +eyes. She had never felt any particular fondness for Miss Enid before; +but somehow that mute appeal, that silent claiming of sympathy and help, +made the woman who had spent the last few weeks in dogging her footsteps +and spying out her secrets bitterly regret the bondage in which her past +life had placed her. + +"Do you feel better now, miss?" she asked, in an unusually soft tone, +presently. + +"Yes, thank you, Parker; but don't go just yet." + +Parker stood immovable. Secretly she began to long to get away. She was +afraid that she should cry if she stayed there much longer holding +Enid's soft little white hand in hers. + +"Parker," said Enid presently, "were you in your room last night soon +after I went to bed?" The maid slept in the next room to that of her +young mistress. + +"Yes, miss--at least, I don't know what time it was." + +"It was between nine and ten o'clock when I went to bed. Did you see +anybody--any one all in white--come into my room after I was in bed? If +your door was open, you might have seen any one pass." + +"Good gracious, miss, one would think that you was speaking of a ghost! +No, I didn't see anybody pass." + +"I thought, perhaps," said Enid rather faintly, "that it might be Mrs. +Vane coming to see how I was, you know. She has a loose white wrapper, +and she often throws a white lace shawl over her head when she goes down +the passages." + +"You must have been dreaming, miss," said Parker. She found it easier to +withdraw her hand now that the conversation had taken this turn. + +"I suppose I must," said Enid, in a scarcely audible tone. Then she +turned away her face and said, "You can go now, Parker; I feel better. I +think that I shall go to sleep." + +But she did not sleep even when Parker had departed. She lay thinking, +with the tears gathering and falling one by one, until they made a great +wet spot on the pillow beneath her head. The shadow that hung over her +young life was growing very dark. + +Parker had hurried into her own room, where she first shut and locked +the door, as if afraid to think even while it was open, and then wrung +her hands in a sort of agony. + +"To think of it--to think of it!" she said, bursting into sudden sobs. +"And Miss Enid so sweet and innocent and gentle! What has she done? What +has she got to be put out of the way for? Just for the sake of the +money, I suppose, that it may all go to that wretched little Master +Dick! Oh, she's a wicked woman--a wicked woman; and I'd give my life +never to have set eyes upon her, for she'll be the ruin of me body and +soul!" + +But "she" in this case did not mean Enid Vane. + +Parker was aroused from her meditations by the sharp tinkle of a bell, +which she knew that Mrs. Vane must have rung. She started when she heard +it, and a look of disgust crossed her face; but, as she hesitated, the +bell rang again, more imperiously than ever. Parker dashed the tears +from her eyes, and sped down the long corridor to Mrs. Vane's +dressing-room. Her hands were trembling still. + +"Why do you keep me in this way when I ring for you, Parker?" said Mrs. +Vane, in her coldest tone. "I rang twice." + +"Miss Vane wanted me, ma'am. I have been with her." + +There was an odd tremor in the woman's voice. Mrs. Vane surveyed her +critically. + +"You look very strange, Parker. What is the matter with you? Are you +ill?" + +"No, ma'am; but Miss Vane is." + +Flossy grew a shade paler and looked up. She was still in her +dressing-gown--white, edged everywhere with costly lace--and her fair +hair was hanging loose over her shoulders. + +"Ill? What is the matter with her?" + +"I--I thought perhaps you would know, ma'am," said Parker desperately. +Then, afraid of what she had said, she turned to a drawer, pulled it +open, and began ransacking it diligently. From the momentary silence in +the room she felt as if her shaft had gone home; but she dared not look +round to see. + +"What on earth do you mean, Parker?" said Mrs. Vane, after that one dead +pause, which said so much to her maid's suspicious ears; the chill +disdain in her voice was inimitable. "How can I tell you what is the +matter with Miss Vane when I have not seen her since dinner-time +yesterday? She was well enough then--at least, as well as she has been +since this trying weather began." + +"Didn't you see her last night, ma'am, when you went to her room about +eleven o'clock?" said Parker, trying to assume a bolder tone, but +failing to hide her nervousness. + +Again a short but unmistakable pause. + +"No, I did not," said Mrs. Vane drily. "I listened at the door to see if +she was asleep, but I did not go in." + +"She seems to have been dreaming that you did, ma'am." + +"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Vane, a little hurriedly. "You should not +attend to all her fancies, Parker. You know that she has very odd +fancies indeed sometimes. The shock of her father's death when she was a +child had a very injurious effect upon her nerves, and I should never be +surprised at anything that she chose to do or say. Pray don't get into +the way of repeating her words, or of imagining that they must +necessarily be true!" + +"No, ma'am," said Parker submissively. + +Evidently there was nothing more for her to say. Well, perhaps she had +put her mistress on her guard. + +"Oh, by-the-bye, Parker! There are two dresses of mine in the +wardrobe--the brown one and the silk--that you can do what you like +with. And I was thinking of sending a little present to your mother. You +may take this purse--there are seven pounds in it; send it to her from +me, if you like, as a little acknowledgment of your faithful service. +And, if--if there is anything else that I can do for her, you need only +mention it." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Parker, but without enthusiasm. "I don't know +as there's anything that she wants at present." + +"Take the purse," said Flossy impatiently; "and then go away and come +back when I ring. I won't have my hair brushed just now. Is Miss Vane +better?" + +"Yes, ma'am--she's better now." And Parker went away, knowing very well +that she had been bribed to hold her tongue. + +But after that interview she noticed that Enid seemed to recover tone +and strength, that for a few succeeding days she was more like herself +than she had been of late, and that the symptoms of faintness and +palpitation which she had mentioned to Mr. Ingledew disappeared. Parker +nodded mysteriously as she remarked on these facts to herself, and +thought that for once her interference had had a good effect. + +She had lately found less to report concerning Miss Vane's movements +than before Mr. Lepel's visit; for Enid's ministrations amongst the poor +had been almost entirely brought to a close, on the ground that close +cottages and the sight of suffering must necessarily be bad for her +health. Accordingly she had gone less and less to the village, and had +seen almost nothing of Mr. Evandale. Parker, being thus less often "on +duty," found more time than usual for her own various scraps of +business, and took occasion one evening to run out to the post-office +when all the family were at dinner; and while at the post-office she +noticed a stranger in the village street--a highly respectable, +venerable-looking old man with picturesque white hair and beard. + +"That's Mr. Dare, who's a-stayin' at the inn," said the postmistress to +Parker, who was a person of considerable importance in village eyes. +"Such a nice old gentleman! He comes from America, where they say he's +made a fortune, and he's very liberal with his money." + +So good a character interested Parker at once in Mr. Dare. She felt +quite flattered when, in passing down the lane, she was accosted by the +gentleman in question, who pulled off his hat to her politely, and asked +her whether she could tell him if Mr. Lepel was likely to visit +Beechfield Hall in the course of a week or two. + +"Let me see," said Parker. "Why, yes, sir--I heard yesterday that he was +coming down next Saturday, just for a day or two, you know." + +"I used to know a Mr. Lepel once," said the stranger, "and he did me a +kindness. If this is the same, I'd like to thank him before I go. I +heard him mentioned up at the 'Crown' yonder and wondered whether I +could find out." + +"I dare say it's the same--he's always a very kind gentleman," quoth +Parker, remembering the half-crowns that Hubert had many a time bestowed +on her. + +"Fair, isn't he?" said Mr. Dare. "That was my Mr. Lepel--fair and short +and stout and a nice little wife and family----" + +"Oh, dear, no--that isn't our Mr. Lepel!" said Parker, with disdain. +"He's tall and very dark and thin; and, as to being married, he's +engaged to Miss Vane of Beechfield Hall, or as good as engaged, I know; +and they're to be married when she's out of her teens, because the +General, her uncle, won't consent to it before." + +"Ah," said the stranger, "you're right; that's not the gentleman I know. +Engaged, is he? And very fond of the young lady, I suppose?" + +"Worships the very ground she treads upon!" said Parker. She would have +thought it _infra dig._ to allow for one moment that Miss Enid did not +meet with her deserts in the way of adoration. "He's always coming down +here to see her. And she the same! I don't think they could be happy +apart. He's just devoted!" + +"And that," said Reuben Dare to himself, "is the man who makes my girl +believe that he is fond of her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Hubert was sadly puzzled by Cynthia's manner to him at this time. She +seemed to have lost her bright spirits; she was grave and even +depressed; now and then she manifested a sort of coldness which he felt +that he did not understand. Was this the effect of his confession to her +that he had pledged his faith before he lost his heart? She had shown no +such coldness when he told her first; but perhaps reflection had changed +her tone. He began by trying to treat her ceremoniously in return; but +he found it a difficult task. He had never been on very ceremonious +terms at all with her, and to begin them now, when she had acknowledged +that she loved him and he had kissed her ripe red lips--he said to +himself that it was absurd. + +He did not cease his visits to Madame della Scala's house, nor try to +set up an artificial barrier between himself and his love. Why then +should she? He would not have this coldness, this conventionality of +demeanor, he told himself; and yet he hardly knew how to beat it down. +For he certainly had no right to demand that she should treat him as her +lover when he was engaged--or half engaged--to marry Enid Vane. + +He came one evening in May, and found her on the point of starting for a +_soirée_ where she was to sing. She was _en grande tenue_ for the +occasion, dressed, after an old Venetian picture, in dull red brocade, +point-lace, and gold ornaments. He had given her the ornaments +himself--golden serpents with ruby eyes--which she had admired in a +jeweller's window. But for the rest of her dress she was in no wise +indebted to him; she had been making money lately, and could afford +herself a pretty gown. + +She received him, he thought, a little coolly--perhaps only because +Madame della Scala was sitting by--gave him the tips of her fingers, and +declared that she must go almost immediately. It turned out that he was +bound for the same place; and Madame at once asked him to escort them +thither--the carriage would be at the door at half-past nine o'clock. + +"I shall be only too happy," said Mr. Lepel, "if you will allow me such +an honor. And, in the meantime, it is not yet nine o'clock, Cynthia; so, +in spite of your impatience, you cannot start quite 'immediately.' What +is there so attractive at the Gores' this evening that you wish to set +off so early?" + +"Oh, nothing--I did not know the time!" said Cynthia. + +She did not reply jestingly, after her usual fashion; she sat down +languidly, and spread her heavy skirts around her so as to make a sort +of silken barrier between herself and Hubert. He bit his lip a little as +he looked at her. + +"Our little bird is not quite herself," said Madame, with a side grimace +at Hubert which she did not want Cynthia to see. "She has what our +neighbors call '_la migraine_,' monsieur. She has never been well since +the return of her old uncle from America, whose fortune--if he has a +fortune--does not seem likely to do any of us any good--her least of +all." + +Cynthia lowered her head a little and darted a sudden and fierce glance +at her teacher and chaperon--a glance of which Hubert guessed the +meaning. She had never mentioned this "uncle from America" to him; +probably she had told Madame not to do so either, and the little Italian +lady had broken her compact. + +Madame della Scala laughed and spread out her hands deprecatingly. + +"_Chè, chè_--what is it I have done to make you look so fierce at me? I +will leave her to you, Mr. Lepel, and trust you to make her tractable +before we reach the house where we are to sing. For the last few days I +have not known how to content _la signorina_ at all; she has twice +refused to sing when refusal meant--well, two things--loss of money and +offence of friends. Those are two things which I do not like at all." + +So saying, Madame, with a fan outstretched before her like a palm-leaf, +moved towards the door; but Cynthia intercepted her. + +"Madame, do not go!" she cried. "Indeed I am sorry! Do not make Mr. +Lepel think that I have been behaving so like a petted child. I will do +what you wish henceforward--I will indeed! Do not go, or I shall think +that you are angry with me!" + +"Angry with you, _carissima_? Not one bit!" said Madame, touching the +girl's hot cheek with the end of her dainty fan. "Not angry, only a +little--little tiny bit disappointed! But what of that? I forgive you! +Genius must have its moods, its freaks, its passions. But calm yourself +now, for Heaven's sake, or we shall be in bad voice to-night! I am just +going to my room to get my scent-bottle; I will return immediately;" and +Madame escaped. + +Hubert was delighted with the little lady's manoeuvre, designed, as he +knew, to leave him alone with Cynthia. As for Cynthia, she gave one +scared look round, as if she dreaded to meet his eyes, then dropped into +the nearest chair and placed one hand over her face. He thought that she +was crying. + +"Cynthia, my darling, what is all this?" he said approaching her. "My +dearest, you are not happy! What can I do?" + +"Nothing," she answered, dashing away a tear and letting her hand fall +into her lap--"nothing indeed!" + +"But you are not--as Madame says--quite like yourself." + +"I know; I am very cross and disagreeable," said Cynthia, with a +resolute assumption of gaiety. "I always had a bad temper; and it is +well perhaps that you should find it out." + +Without speaking, he bent his head to kiss her; but she drew back. + +"No!" she said, with decision. "No, Hubert--Mr. Lepel, I mean--that will +not do!" + +"What, Cynthia?" + +"We are not engaged. We are really nothing to each other; I was wrong to +forget that before." + +"This is surely a new view on the subject, Cynthia!" + +"Yes; it is the view I have taken ever since I thought it over. We will +be friends, if you like--I will always be your friend"--and there came +over her face an indescribable expression of yearning and passionate +regret--"but we must remember that I shall be nothing more." + +"Nothing more? Why, my darling, do you forget what you promised me--that +at the end of two years----" + +"If you were free--yes," she interrupted him. "But it was a foolish +promise. You know that you are not likely to be free. You--you knew that +when you told me that you loved me!" She set her teeth and gave him a +look of bitter reproach. + +"What does this mean?" said Hubert, flushing up to the roots of his +hair. "I told you everything the next morning, Cynthia; and I +acknowledged to you that I loved you only because I thought that I was +too miserable a wretch for you to cast a sigh upon. You have changed +since then--not I." + +Cynthia suddenly rose from her chair. + +"I hear the carriage," she said abruptly; "Madame is at the door. There +is no use in continuing this conversation." + +"No use at all," said Hubert, who by this time was not in the best of +tempers. "Perhaps you would rather that I did not accompany you +to-night, Miss West?" "Oh, pray come!" said Cynthia, with a heartless +little laugh. "Madame will never forgive me if I deprive her of a +cavalier! It does not matter to me." + +Hubert turned at once to Madame della Scala, and offered her his arm +with the courtesy of manner which she always averred she found in so few +Englishmen, but which he displayed to perfection. Cynthia followed, not +waiting for him to lead her to the carriage. He was about to hand her to +her seat, but she had so elaborately encumbered herself with gloves, +fan, bouquet, and sweeping silken train, that it seemed as if she could +not possibly disentangle her hands in time to receive his help. She took +her seat beside Madame with her usual smiling nonchalance, and the two +ladies waited for Mr. Lepel to take the opposite seat. He took off his +hat and made a sweeping bow. + +"Madame," he said, "I am unfeignedly sorry, but I find that +circumstances will not allow me to accompany you this evening. Will you +pardon me therefore if I decline the honor of the seat you have offered +me?" + +This stately mode of speech was intended to pacify Madame della Scala, +who liked to be addressed as if she were a princess; he knew that she +would be angry enough at his defection. Before she had recovered herself +so far as to speak, he fell back and signed to the coachman to drive on. +They had left him far behind before Madame ceased to vent her +exclamations of wrath, despair, and disappointment. + +"What can he mean by 'circumstances'?" This was the phrase that rose +most frequently to her tongue. "'Circumstances will not allow me'! But +that is nonsense--absolutely nonsense!" + +"I think by 'circumstances' he meant me," said Cynthia at last--by which +remark she diverted all Madame's wrath upon her own unlucky head. + +She did not seem to mind however. She looked brilliant that evening, and +she sang her best. There was a royal personage amongst her hearers, and +the royal personage begged to be presented to her, and complimented her +upon her singing. As Cynthia made her little curtsey and smiled her +bright little smile, she wondered what the royal personage would say if +he knew that she was "Westwood, the murderer's daughter." She had been +called so too often in her earliest years ever to forget the title. + +In spite of her waywardness that night, she was woman enough to wish +that Hubert had been there to witness her triumph. She had never +offended him before. She thought that perhaps he would come back, and +darted hasty glances at the throng of smart folk around her, longing to +see his dark face in some corner of the room. But she was disappointed; +he did not come. + +"Oh, Miss West," said her hostess to her, in the course of the evening, +"do come here one moment! I hope you won't be very much bored; you young +people always like other young people best, I know. But there is a lady +here--an old lady--who is very much impressed by your voice--your +charming voice--and wants to know you; and she is really worth knowing, +I assure you--gives delightful parties now and then." + +"I shall be most happy!" said Cynthia brightly. "I like old ladies very +much; they generally have something to say." + +"Which young men do not, do they? Oh, fie, you naughty girl! I saw you +with young Lord Frederick over there---- Dear Miss Vane, this is our +sweet songstress, Miss Cynthia West--Miss Vane. I have just been telling +her how much you admire her lovely singing;" and then the hostess +hurried away. + +Something like an electric shock seemed to pass through Cynthia's frame. +She did not show any trace of emotion, the smile did not waver on her +lips; but suddenly, as she bowed gracefully to the handsome, keen-eyed +old lady to whom she had just been introduced, she saw herself a ragged, +unkempt, savage little waif and stray, fresh from the workhouse, +standing on a summer day upon a dusty road, the centre of a little group +of persons whose faces came back to her one by one with painful +distinctness. There was the old lady--not so wrinkled as this old lady, +but still with the same clearly-cut features, the same sharp eyes, the +same inflexible mouth; there was the child with delicate limbs and +dainty movements, with sweet sympathetic eyes and lovely golden hair, +which Cynthia had passionately admired as she had never admired any +other hair and eyes in the world before; and there was a young man. His +face had hitherto been the one that she thought she remembered best; she +was suddenly aware that she had so idealised and glorified it that its +very features had become unreal, and that when she met it in the flesh +in later years it remained unrecognisable. Never once till now had it +been borne in upon her that this hero of her childish dreams and her +present lover were one and the same. It was a terrible shock to her--and +greater even then she knew. + +"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss West," said Miss Leonora +Vane, holding out her hand so cordially that Cynthia could not in common +politeness refuse to take it. "Your singing has delighted everybody--and +myself, I am sure I may say, not least. You have been some time in +Italy, I suppose? Do sit down here and tell me where you studied." + +Cynthia fancied that she heard the same voice telling her what a wicked +girl she was, and that she deserved to be whipped for running away from +the workhouse. She repressed a little shudder, and answered smilingly-- + +"You are very kind. Yes, I have studied in Italy." + +"Under Lamperti, I hear. Do you think of coming out in opera next +season? You may always count me among your audience." + +Cynthia remembered how this courteous gentlewoman had once put her hand +over her eyes and declared that the sight of Westwood's daughter made +her ill. The burning sense of injustice that had then taken possession +of the child's soul rose up as strong as ever in the woman. She wished, +in her bitterness, that she were free to rise from her seat and cry +aloud-- + +"Yes, look at me--listen to me--for I am Westwood's daughter! I am the +child of a felon and escaped convict, a man whom you call a +murderer--and I am proud of my name!" + +Curiously enough, Miss Vane touched closely upon this subject before +long. She was anxious to know whether Cynthia's name was her own or only +assumed for stage purposes, and managed to put her question in such a +way that it sounded less like impertinence than a manifestation of +kindly interest--which was very clever of Miss Vane. + +"No," said Cynthia coldly, "'West' is not my name exactly; but I prefer +to be known by it at present." + +She had never said as much before; and Miss Vane felt herself a little +bit snubbed, and decided that the new singer had not at all good +manners; but she meant to secure her for her next party nevertheless. +She rather prided herself upon her parties. + +To her utter surprise and bewilderment, Miss Cynthia West absolutely +declined to come. She gave no reason except that she thought that she +should before long give up singing in drawing-rooms at all; and she was +not to be moved by any consideration of payment. Miss Vane ventured to +intimate that she did not mind what she paid; but she was met by so +frigid a glance that she was really obliged, in self-defence, to be +silent. She carried away an unpleasant impression of Cynthia West, and +was heard to say afterwards that she could believe anything of that +young woman. + +Cynthia was, however, acknowledged to have made in every other way a +great success. Madame della Scala was delighted with her pupil, and +quite forgot all the little disagreeables of the evening; while Cynthia, +during their drive home, was as charming and as lively as she had ever +been. When the carriage stopped at the quiet little house in Kensington, +the weather had changed, and rain was falling rapidly. One of the +servants was in waiting with an umbrella, ready to give an arm to +Madame, who alighted first. Cynthia followed, scarcely noticing the man +who stepped forward to assist her, until something prompted her suddenly +to look at his face. Then she uttered an inarticulate exclamation. + +"Yes, it is I," said Hubert. "I have been waiting to help you out. I +don't know how I have offended you; but, whatever it is, forgive me, +Cynthia--I can't bear your displeasure!" + +"Nor I yours," she said, with a sob; and, under the umbrella that he was +holding, she actually held up her face to be kissed. + +Nobody saw the little ceremony of reconciliation. The next moment +Cynthia was in the hall, having her dress shaken out and let down by a +yawning maid's attentive hands, and the coachman had driven off, and the +hall door was shut, and Hubert Lepel was out in the street, with a wall +between him and his love. There were tears in Cynthia's eyes as she went +wearily, her gaiety all departed, up to her room. Nobody suspected that +the charming singer whose gaiety and audacity, as well as her beauty, +had won all hearts that evening passed half the night in weeping on the +hard floor--weeping over the fate that divided her from her lover. For +ever since the day that she had learned from her father that Hubert +Lepel was a cousin of the Vanes--more than ever now she knew that he was +the man who had befriended her in her childhood--she felt it to be +utterly impossible that she should marry him until he knew the truth; +and the truth--that she was Westwood's daughter--would, she felt sure, +part him from her for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Early in the sweet June morning--sweet and fair although it brooded over +London, the smokiest city in the world--Cynthia was again walking in +Kensington Gardens. She had not gone far before she met her father, with +whom she had made an appointment for that hour. + +"Well, Cynthia, my girl?" + +"I have come, you see, father." + +"I hardly thought you'd get here so soon after your party-going last +night," said her father. "You look pretty tired too. Well, my girl, I +told you I'd been staying down at Beechfield." + +"Yes; and I was terribly anxious about you all the time, father. It was +such a daring thing to do! Suppose any one had suspected you?" + +"Not much fear o' that!" said Westwood, a little scornfully. "Why, look +at me! Am I like the man I was at Beechfield ten years ago? I was a sort +of outcast then, having sunk from bad to worse through my despair when I +lost your mother, Cynthia; but, now that I have a new coat on my back +and money in my pocket, all through my luck in the States, not to speak +of this white hair, which I shall keep to until I'm back in the West +again, I'm a different man, and nobody ever thinks of suspecting me." + +He was different, Cynthia noticed, in more than one respect--he was far +less silent and morose than he used to be. Life in the West had brought +out some unexpected reserves of decision and readiness of speech, and +his success--his luck, as he sometimes called it--had cheered his +spirits. He was defiant and he was often bitter still; but he was no +longer downcast. + +"They'd not have much chance if they did suspect me," he said, after a +little pause; "if they thought that they'd got me again, they'd find +their mistake. I'd put a bullet through my head afore ever I went back +to Portland!" + +"Oh, father, don't speak so!" + +"Come, Cynthy, don't you pretend! You're a brave girl and a spirited +one. Now wouldn't you yourself sooner die than be cooped up in a gaol, +or set to work in a quarry with an armed warder watching you all day +long--wouldn't you put an end to it, I ask you--being a brave girl and +not a namby-pamby creature as hasn't got a will of her own, and don't +know better than to stay where she's put--eh, Cynthia?" + +"Don't speak quite so loud, father dear," said Cynthia--"there are +people turning round to look at us. I don't know what I should do in +those circumstances; perhaps, as you say, I should think it better to +end it all." She looked aside as she spoke, for her dark eyes had filled +with heavy tears. How she wished at that moment that she could "end it +all" as easily as she said the words! "Sit down for a little time, will +you, father?" she asked. "It is a warm morning, and I am rather tired." + +She had another reason for wishing to sit down. She had observed that +for some time a tall woman in black had been apparently regarding them +with interest, following them at a little distance, slackening and +quickening her pace in accordance with their own. The stranger was +thickly veiled; and, when she saw that Cynthia and her father were +walking towards a vacant seat, she turned in the same direction. There +was nothing to prevent her from sitting down on the same bench, and +either putting a stop to all private conversation or listening to what +they had to say; but Cynthia was equal to the emergency. She turned her +head and gave the woman a long look, half of inquiry, half of disdain, +which seemed to overawe the intruder, who stood by the bench for a +moment rather uncertainly. Then Cynthia touched her father's arm. + +"Do you know this person?" she asked in a low voice, but one so clear +that it must have reached the woman's ears. + +"Know her?" said Westwood, starting and looking suspiciously at the +black figure. "No, I don't know her, unless she's---- She's very much +like a person staying with my landlady just now--a Miss Meldreth. I +wonder---- Shall I speak to her, Cynthia?" + +But the woman had already moved from her standing position by the bench, +and was walking away as fast as she could conveniently go. She had fair +hair and a fine figure, but her face could not be seen. + +"It is very like," said Westwood, standing up and staring after her. +"She's been very friendly with me since I came; and I've had tea with +her and Mrs. Gunn more than once. Strange to relate; she comes from +Beechfield too. She's the daughter of old Mrs. Meldreth, who used to +keep the sweetie-shop; don't you remember her?" + +"Then she was watching you--following you! Oh, father, do be careful!" + +"What should she be watching me for?" said Westwood, but with rather a +troubled look upon his face. "I've never had aught to do with her." + +"Did you hear of her at all at Beechfield?" + +"There was a bit of gossip about her and her mother; they said that Mrs. +Vane at Beechfield Hall knew them and was kind to them. Some said that +she paid them; but nobody knew what for." + +"And she is lodging in the same house with you and following you about? +Then I'll tell you what she is, father--she is a spy of the Vanes. She +suspects you and wants to put you in prison again. Oh, father, do change +your lodgings, or go straight back to America! You have been in England +a month, and it is very dangerous. You have nothing to stay +for--nothing; and, if you like"--her voice sank almost to a whisper--"I +will go back with you." + +"Will you, Cynthy? There's my own good girl!" said her father, an +unwonted sense of pleasure beaming in his eyes. "You're one of the right +sort, you are, and you sha'n't regret it. But, as to danger, I don't see +it. There's nobody can recognise me, as you are well aware; and what +else have I to fear?" Cynthia had noted before that he was almost +childishly vain of his disguise. She herself was not disposed to rely +upon it with half so blind a confidence, for she knew how easily the +secrets of "making-up" can be read by an experienced eye. "Besides, Miss +Meldreth was lodging at Mrs. Gunn's before ever I went there--so that's +a pure coincidence. If she'd come after I went down to Beechfield, +there might be something in it. But it's an accidental thing." + +"It may be accidental, and yet a source of danger," said Cynthia +anxiously. "I wish you would go back to the States at once, father. I am +quite ready to go. There is nothing to keep me in England now." + +"Why, have you broken off with that young man?" said Westwood sharply. + +"Not altogether." The remembrance of the previous night's kiss under the +umbrella made Cynthia's cheeks burn red as she replied. "But since I +know what you have told me--that he is a relative of the Vanes of +Beechfield--I have determined that it cannot go on. He and his family +would hate me if they knew. I cannot forget the past; I cannot forget +what they did and said; and I do not see how I can marry a man who +unjustly believes that my father was his kinsman's murderer." The fire +came back to her eyes, the firmness to her voice, as she spoke. + +Westwood watched her admiringly. + +"Well spoke, my little girl--well spoke! I didn't think you had it in +you--I didn't indeed! Let him go his way, and let us go ourn. I didn't +tell you all that I might ha' done when I came back from Beechfield the +other day, because I didn't rightly know whether you was with me or +against me." + +"With you--always with you, dear father!" + +"And I was a little doubtful, so to speak, seeing as how you had taken +up, although by accident, with a fellow belonging to the camp of my +enemies. But now I'll tell you a little more. Has Mr. Lepel ever told +you that he had a sister?" + +"No." + +"Well, he has; and, what's more, she's married to the old General--you +remember him at Beechfield?" + +"Yes." + +"Maybe you remember her too--a very fair lady, as used to walk out with +the little girl--Mr. Sydney Vane's little girl?" + +Cynthia was silent for a moment. + +"Yes," she said, at length--"I think I remember her." + +"You've seen the child too?" + +"Yes"--Cynthia's eyes softened; "I am sure I remember her." + +"I'll tell you about her presently. I've got a notion in my head about +these Lepels. Miss Lepel, as was, and Mr. Sydney Vane was in love with +one another and about to run away from England when he was killed. I +know that for a fact, so you needn't look so scared. They was on the +point of an elopement when he died--I knew that all along; but, +stupid-like, I never thought of putting two and two together and +connecting it with his death. It just seemed a pity to throw shame and +blame on the dead, seeing as how there was his wife and child to bear +all the disgrace; and so I held my tongue." + +"But how did you know, father?" + +"By using my eyes and my ears," said Westwood briefly--"that's how I +knew. They used to meet in that little plantation often enough. I've +lain low in a dry ditch more than once when they were close by and heard +their goings-on. They were going off next day, when Mr. Vane met with +his deserts. And what I say is that somebody related to Miss Lepel found +out the truth and shot him like a dog." + +"Why did you not think of all this at the right time? Oh, father, it is +too late now!" + +"I'm not so sure of that. And, as for the gun--well, that often puzzled +me; for I hadn't fired it myself that afternoon, Cynthy, and yet it had +been fired--and that's what made part of the evidence against me. I'd +been out that afternoon, and, coming home, who should I see in the +distance but two or three gentlemen strolling along the road--Mr. Vane +and the General and one or two strangers? Quick as thought, I laid my +gun down and walked on as careless as you please. They met me--you know, +that was a bit of the General's evidence, I looked back when I'd passed +them, and I saw Mr. Sydney Vane separate himself from the other +gentlemen and walk into the plantation. I did not like to go back just +then; and so I waited. There was two or three ways of getting into the +fir plantation, so I don't know who came into it across the fields, as +anybody might have done either from the village or from the Hall. But +presently I heard the report of a gun--two reports, as far as I +remember; and then I saw Miss Lepel flying along the road--and I knew +that she'd been in the plantation, any way. So, after watching a little +while longer, I went back to the wood; and I found my gun pretty near +where I had left it--only it had been moved and fired. So I took it up +and walked away home." + +"Without stopping to see whether any one was hurt?" + +"Yes, my girl--and that was my mistake. If I'd gone on and found Mr. +Vane and given the alarm and all that, I dare say I should have got off. +But that was my misfortune, and also my hatred to Mr. Vane and his +wicked ways. I says to myself, 'This is no business of yours. Let them +settle it between themselves. I'll not interfere.' So I sort of hardened +my heart and went on my way." + +"Father, perhaps you might have saved a life!" + +"No," said Westwood calmly, "I couldn't have done that. He was shot +clean through the heart. And I'm not sure that I would if I could. He +was a bad man, and deserved his punishment. The only thing I can't +understand is why the man as did it hadn't the pluck to say what he had +done, instead of leaving a poor common man like me to bear the blame." + +"Did you not tell all this to the jury and the counsel?" + +"Yes, my dear, I did--every word. But who was there to believe me? It +didn't sound likely, you know. And who else was there, as the lawyers +said, that had reason to hate Mr. Vane? Why, if they'd known all I knew, +they would have seen that every honest man would have hated him! But, by +never telling what I knew previous about Miss Lepel, I didn't put 'em on +the right track, you see. I own that now." + +"Father, I see to whom your suspicions point--you said as much to me +before. But I feel sure that Mr. Hubert Lepel is incapable of such a +deed--not only of the murder--for which one could forgive him--but of +letting another bear the blame." + +"Well, perhaps so, Cynthy. I don't think you would ha' given your heart +to an out-an-out scoundrel--I don't indeed. And Mr. Lepel has a good +sort o' face. I've seen him, and I like him. He looks as if he'd had a +good bit o' trouble somehow; and I daresay it's likely, with a sister +like that on his hands. It's my belief, Cynthia, not that Mr. Lepel, but +his sister, Miss Florence Lepel, as she was then, did the deed and put +the blame on me. And I'm inclined to think as how Mr. Lepel knows it and +wouldn't tell." + +"A woman! Could a woman manage a heavy gun like that?" + +"If she was desperate, she could, my dear. It's wonderful what strength +a woman will have when she's in a temper. And maybe Mr. Vane failed her +at the last moment--wouldn't go with her away from England, or something +o' that kind--and she thought she would be revenged on him." + +The theory did credit to Reuben Westwood's imagination; but it was a +mistaken one. At present, however, it seemed sufficiently credible to +give Cynthia much cause for reflection. She did not speak. Westwood gave +his knee a sudden stroke with one hand, expressive of growing amazement, +as he also meditated on the matter. + +"And then for her to go and marry the old man--Sydney Vane's brother! It +beats all that I ever heard of! She must have got nerves of steel and +muscles of iron; she must be the boldest, hardest liar that ever trod +this earth. If I thought that all women was like her, Cynthia, I would +go to the devil at once! But I've known two good ones in my time, I +reckon--your mother and you--and that should p'r'aps be enough for any +man. Yes, she's married and got a child--a little lad that'll have the +estate and prevent the girl from coming to her own--at least, what would +have been her own if there had been no boy." + +"You mean Miss Enid Vane?" said Cynthia, again with a curious softening +of the eyes. + +"Yes, some outlandish name of that sort--'Enid,' is it? Well, you know +better than I. I'm glad you're breaking it off with that man Lepel, +Cynthia, for more reasons than one." + +Cynthia hardly noticed the significance of his tone or the conjunction +of the two names in his remarks. She had something else in her mind +which she was anxious to have said. + +"Father, I am to see Mr. Lepel this afternoon." + +"Yes, my girl?" + +"And I want to say good-bye to him for ever." + +Westwood nodded; he was well pleased with her decision. + +"And then I will go to America with you whenever you please. But one +thing I want you to allow me to do." + +"Well, Cynthy?" + +"I must tell Mr. Lepel who I am. I will not of course let him think that +I know anything of you now. He shall not know that you are alive. But I +must do as I please about telling him my own name." + +"Very well, Cynthia," said her father; "do as you like in that matter. I +can trust you with a good deal, and I trust you so far; but don't let +out that you know anything about me now--that I'm alive, and that you +have seen me, or anything of that sort." + +"No, father." + +"I see what you're after," said he, after a pause. "You think he'll give +you up more ready when he knows that you are my daughter--isn't that it? +You may say so open-like; it doesn't hurt me, you know. Of course I can +understand what he will feel. And what's always been hardest to me was +the feelin' that I had injured you so much, my dear--you, the only thing +left to me in the world to love." + +"You could not help it, father dear." + +"Well, I don't know. I might have done many things different--I see that +now. But there's one thing to be said--if you feel inclined to break off +with Mr. Lepel without telling him your name, I think it would be easy +enough to do it." + +"How? What do you mean?" + +"You think he's fond of you--don't you, my dear?" + +"I thought so, father." + +"He's tried to make you believe so for his own ends, no doubt. But he +means to marry the other girl, my dear--they told me so at Beechfield. +They say he worships the very ground she treads upon; and she the same +with him. Being fond of you was only a blind to lead you to your +destruction, I'm afraid, my poor pretty dear!" + +Cynthia shrank a little as she heard. Could this be true? + +"The girl lives down there then, does she?" she asked, in a strange hard +voice not like her own. + +"Yes, my dear. He would not be able to break off there without a +tremendous to-do, I'll warrant you; for the girl is the General's niece, +the daughter of Mr. Sydney Vane--the Miss Enid you spoke about just +now." + +As he got no answer, he turned to look at her, and found that she was +deadly white; but, when she noticed that he was looking at her, she +smiled and passed her hand reassuringly within his arm. + +"You make my task all the easier for me, father," she said; "I shall +know what to do now. And I think that it is about time for me to go +home." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Cynthia had already despatched a little note to Hubert asking him to +visit her at a certain hour that afternoon--hence the certainty with +which she spoke of his visit to her father. After what had passed +between them, she did not think that he would fail to come. + +She wanted him at half-past five precisely, because at that hour Madame +had promised to go for a drive in the Park with one of her most +fashionable pupils and her friends, and Cynthia knew that she could then +see him alone. And she was right in thinking that he would come. Just as +the half-hour struck, Hubert knocked at Madame della Scala's door, and +was immediately ushered into a tiny little room on the ground-floor +which was always called "Miss West's parlor," and which contained little +furniture except a piano and table and a couple of chairs. It was here +that Cynthia practised and studied, and sat when she wanted to be alone. +Two or three photographs of the heads of great singers and musicians +were the sole decorations of the walls; a pile of music and some books +lay on the table. The place had a severely business-like air; and yet +its very simplicity and the sombreness of its tints had hitherto always +given Hubert, who knew the room, a sense of pleasure. But he knitted his +brows when he was taken to it on this occasion. It seemed to him that +Cynthia wanted to give her interview with him also a business-like +character. But perhaps, he reflected, it was only that she wanted a +peculiarly confidential talk. + +He looked at her a little anxiously when she came in, and was rather +puzzled by her face. She was pale, and she had been crying, for her +eyelids were red; but she gave him a peculiarly sweet and winning smile, +and there was a pleading softness in the lovely eyes under the wet +lashes which melted his heart to her at once, although she offered him +her hand only and would not allow him to kiss her cheek. + +"What--not one kiss for me this afternoon? I thought I was forgiven!" he +said reproachfully. + +"It is I who want forgiveness," she answered, "for being so bad-tempered +and cross and rude last night." + +"Take my forgiveness then," said Hubert almost gaily in his relief at +hearing the sweetness of her voice--"and take it in this form." + +He would not be denied; and Cynthia had no heart to struggle. She let +him enfold her in his arms for a moment, and press a dozen kisses on her +lips and cheek; then she drew herself away. He felt the movement; +although he did not let her go. + +"My dearest, you do not speak naturally--and you want to get away from +me. What does this mean?" + +"I don't know that I exactly want to get away from you," said Cynthia, +smiling; "but I think that perhaps I must." + +The smile was a very woeful little affair after all. + +"Must! I don't think I shall ever let you go again!" + +He tightened his clasp. She looked up into his face with beseeching +eyes. + +"Do take away your arm, please, Hubert! I want to talk to you, and I +cannot if it is there." + +"Then we will leave it there. I don't think I want to talk, darling. I +am very tired--I think I must have walked miles last night before I came +back to this door to hand my lady out of her carriage, and I want to be +petted and spoken to kindly." + +Cynthia's fingers twitched and she turned her head aside, but not before +Hubert had noticed the peculiar expression that crossed her face. Being +a play-writer and constant theatre-goer, his mind was full of theatrical +reminiscences. He remembered at that moment to have noticed that +peculiar twitch, that odd expression of countenance, in Sarah Bernhardt +when she was acting the part of a profoundly jealous woman. It had then +meant, "Go to my rival, to her whom you love, and be comforted--do not +come to me!" But there was no likeness between the great tragic actress +and Cynthia West either of character or of circumstance; and Cynthia had +no cause to be jealous. But he thought of the momentary impression +afterwards. + +She turned her face back again with as sweet a smile as ever. + +"You think you must always have your own way; but I want to be +considered too. I have something to tell you, and I shall not be happy +until it is said. If you are tired, you shall sit down in this chair--it +is much more comfortable than it looks--and have some tea, and then we +can talk. But Madame may be in by half-past six, and I want to get it +all over before she comes." + +"'Getting it all over' sounds as if something disagreeable were to +follow!" said Hubert, releasing her and taking the chair she proffered. +"No tea, thank you; I had some at my club before I came. Now what is it, +dear? But sit down; I can't sit, you know, if you stand." + +"I must stand," said Cynthia, with a touch of imperiousness. "I am the +criminal, and you are the judge. The criminal always stands." + +"It is a very innocent criminal and a very unworthy judge in this +instance. 'Sit, Jessica.'" + +She laughed and drew a chair forward. Sitting down, he saw that her +figure fell at once into a weary, languid attitude, and that the smile +faded suddenly from her face. He put his hand on hers. + +"What is it, my dearest?" he said, seriously this time. + +She raised her eyes, and they were full of tears. + +"It is of no use trying to speak lightly about it," she said. "I may as +well tell you that it is a very important matter, Hubert. I sent for you +to-day to tell you that we must part." + +"Nonsense, Cynthia!" + +"We must indeed! The worst is that we might have avoided all this +trouble--this misery--if I had been candid and open with you from the +first. If I had told you all about myself, you would perhaps never have +helped me--or at least--for I won't say that exactly--you would have +helped me from a distance, and never cared to see me or speak to me at +all." + +"Of course you know that you are talking riddles, Cynthia." + +"Yes, I know. But you will understand in a minute or two. I only want to +say, first, that I had no idea who--who you were." + +"Who I am, dear? Myself, Hubert Lepel, and nobody else." + +"And cousin"--she brought the words out with difficulty--"cousin to the +Vanes of Beechfield." + +"Well, what objection have you to the Vanes of Beechfield?" + +"They have the right to object to me; and so have you. Do you remember +the evening when I spoke to you in the street outside the theatre? Did +it never cross your mind that you had seen and spoken to me before? You +asked me once if I knew a girl called Jane Wood. Now don't you remember +me? Now don't you know my name?" + +Hubert had risen to his feet. His face was ghastly pale; but there was a +horror in it which even Cynthia could not interpret aright. + +"You--you, Jane Wood!" he gasped. "Don't trifle with me, Cynthia! You +are Cynthia West!" + +"Cynthia Janet Westwood, known at St. Elizabeth's as Janie Wood." + +"You--you are Westwood's child?" + +She silently bowed her head. + +"Oh, Cynthia, Cynthia, if you had but told me before!" + +He sank down into his chair again, burying his face in his hands with +his elbows on his knees. There was a look of self-abasement, of shame +and sorrow in his attitude inexplicable to Cynthia. Finding that he did +not speak, she took up her tale again in low, uneven tones. + +"I knew that I ought to tell you. I said that I would tell you +everything before--before we were married, if ever it came to that. I +ought to have done so at once; but it was so difficult. They had changed +my name when I went to school so that nobody should know; they told me +that it would be a disgrace to have it known. I ran away from St. +Elizabeth's because I had been fool enough to let it out. I could not +face the girls when they knew that--that my father was called a +murderer." + +Hubert drew his breath hard. She tried to answer what she thought was +the meaning of that strange sound, half moan, half sigh. + +"I never called him so," she said. "You will not believe it, of course; +but I know that my father would never have done the deed that you +attribute to him. He was kind, good, tender-hearted, although he lived +in rebellion against some of the ordinary laws of society. There was +nothing base or mean about him. If he had killed a man, he would not +have told lies about it; he would have said that he had done it and +borne the punishment. He was a brave man; he was not a murderer." + +Still Hubert did not answer. He dared not let her see his face; she must +not know the torture her words inflicted on him. She went on. + +"Lately I have thought that it would be better for me to face the whole +thing out, and not act as if I were ashamed of my father, who is no +murderer, but a martyr and an innocent man. I took my first step last +night by telling your aunt Miss Vane that 'West' was only an assumed +name. I had never said that before. Do you remember how she looked at +me--how she hated me--when we stood outside the gates of Beechfield Park +that afternoon? The sight of me made her ill; and, if she knew me by my +right name, it would make her ill again. If I had known that you were +their cousin, I would never have let you see my face!" + +"Cynthia, have a little mercy!" cried Hubert, suddenly starting up, and +dashing his hair back from his discolored, distorted face. "Do you think +I am such a brute? What does it matter to me about your father? Was I so +unkind, so cruel to you when you were a child that you cannot trust me +now?" + +"No," she said, looking at him gently, but with a sort of aloofness +which he had never seen in her before; "you were very good to me then. +You saved me from the workhouse; you would not even let me go to the +charity-school that Mrs. Rumbold recommended. You told me to be a good +girl, and said that some day I should see my father again." She put her +hand to her throat, as if choked by some hysteric symptom, but at once +controlled herself and went on. "I see it all now. It was through you, I +suppose, that I was sent to St. Elizabeth's, where I was made into +something like a civilised being. It was you to whom they applied as to +whether I should be removed from the lower to the upper school; and +you--out of your charity to the murderer's daughter--you paid for me +forty pounds a year. I did not know that I had so much to be grateful +for to you. I have taken gifts from you since, not knowing; but this is +the last of it--I will never take another now!" + +"Are you so proud, Cynthia, that you cannot bear me to have helped you a +little? My love, I did not know, I never guessed that you were +Westwood's daughter. But can you never forgive me for having done my +best for you. Do you think I love you one whit the less?" + +"Oh, I see--you think that I am ungenerous," cried Cynthia, "and that it +is my pride which stands in your way! Well, so it is--this kind of +pride--that I will not accept gifts from those who believe my father to +be a guilty man when I believe in his innocence. They did well never to +tell me who was my benefactor--for whom I was taught to pray when I was +at St. Elizabeth's. If I had known, the place would not have held me for +a day when I was old enough to understand! At first I was too ignorant, +too much stupefied by the whole thing to understand that the Vanes were +keeping me at school and supporting me. It is horrible--it is +sickening--to send my father to prison, to the gallows, and his child to +school! Much better have let me go to the workhouse! Do you think I wish +to be indebted to people who think my father a murderer?" + +"You mistake!" said Hubert quickly. "The Vanes knew nothing about it. If +Mrs. Rumbold ever said so, it was my fault. I did not like her to think +that I was doing it alone. And, as for me, Cynthia, I never thought your +father guilty--never!" + +He trembled beneath the burning gaze she turned on him, and his color +changed from white to red, and then to white again. He felt as if he had +been guilty of the meanest subterfuge of his whole life. + +"You never thought so?" she said, with a terrible gasp. "Then who was +guilty? Who did that murder, Hubert? Do--you--know?" + +She could not say, "Was your sister guilty, and are you shielding her?" + +He looked at her helplessly. His tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; +he could not speak. With a bitter cry she fell upon her knees before him +and seized his hands. + +"You know--you know! Oh, Hubert, clear my father's name! Never mind whom +you sacrifice! Let the punishment fall on the head of the wrong-doer not +on my dear, dear father's! I will forgive you for having been silent so +long, if now you will only speak. I will love you always, I will give +you my life, if you will but let the truth be known!" + +He gathered his forces together by an almost superhuman effort, and +managed to speak at last; but the sweat stood in great drops on his +brow. + +"Cynthia, don't--don't speak so, for God's sake! I know nothing, I have +nothing to say!" + +Clinging to his knees, she looked up at him, her eyes full of +supplication. + +"Is the cost too great?" she cried. "Will you not tell the truth for my +sake--for Cynthia's sake?" + +Scarcely knowing what he did, he pushed back his chair, and wrenched +himself free from her entreating hands. + +"I cannot bear this, Cynthia! If I could---- But it is of no use; I have +nothing--nothing to tell." + +He had moved away from her; but he came back when he saw that she had +fallen forward with her face on the chair where he had been sitting. He +leaned over her. At first he thought that she had fainted; but presently +the movement of her shoulders showed him that she was but vainly +endeavoring to suppress a burst of agonising sobs. + +"Cynthia," he said, "believe in my love, darling! If you believe in +nothing else, you may be sure of that." + +He laid his hand gently round her neck, and, finding that she did not +repulse him, knelt beside her and tried to draw her to his breast. For a +few minutes she let her head rest on his shoulder, and clung to him as +if she could not let him go. When she grew calmer, he began to whisper +tender words into her ear. + +"Cynthia, I will give up all the world for your dear sake! Let us go +away from England together, and live only for each other, darling! We +could be happy somewhere, away from the toil and strife of London, could +we not? I love you only, dearest--only you! If you like, we would go to +America and see whether we could not find your poor father, who, I have +heard, is living there; and we could cheer his last days together. Will +you not make me happy in this way, Cynthia? Be my wife, and let us +forget all the world beside." + +She shook her head. She had wept so violently that at first she could +not speak. + +"Why do you shake your head? You do not doubt my love? My darling, I +count the world well lost for you. Do not distrust me again! Do you +think I mind what the world says, or what my relatives say? You are +Cynthia and my love to me, and whose daughter you are matters +nothing--nothing at all!" + +"But it matters to me," she whispered brokenly--"and I cannot consent." + +"Dearest, don't say that! You must consent! Your only chance of +happiness lies with me, and mine with you." + +"But you have promised yourself," she murmured, "to Enid Vane." + +"Conditionally; and I am certain--certain that she does not care for +me." + +"I am not certain," she whispered. + +Then there was a little pause; during which he felt that she was bracing +herself to say something which was hard for her to say. + +"I have made up my mind," she said at length, "to take nothing away from +Enid Vane that is dear to her. Do you remember how she pleaded with you +for me? Do you remember how good she was--how kind? She gave me her +shilling because I had had no food that day. I never spent it--I have +that shilling still. I have worn it ever since, as a sort of talisman +against evil." She felt in her bosom and brought out the coin attached +by a little string around her neck. "It has been my greatest treasure! I +have had so few treasures in my life. And do you think I am going to be +ungrateful? If it broke my heart to give you up, I would not hesitate +one moment, when I had reason to think that you were plighted to Enid +Vane." + +She drew herself away from him as she spoke, and rose to her full +height. Hubert stood before her, his eyes on the floor, his lips white +and tremulous. What could he say? He had nothing but his love to +plead--and his love looked a poor and common thing beside that purity of +motive, that height of purpose, that intensity of noble passion which at +that moment made Cynthia's face beautiful indeed. + +"I will see you no more," she said. "You must go back to Enid Vane, and +you must make her happy. For me, I have another work to do. In my own +way I--I shall be happy too. There is a double barrier between us, and +we must never meet again." + +"Is it a barrier that can never be broken down, Cynthia?" + +"No," she said--"not unless my father is shown to be innocent to the +world and the stain removed from his name--not unless we are sure--sure +that Enid Vane has no affection for you save that of a cousin and a +friend. And those things are impossibilities; so we must say good-bye." + +It seemed as if he had not understood her words. He muttered something, +and clutched at the table behind him as if to keep himself from falling. + +"Impossibilities indeed!" he said hoarsely, after a moment's pause. +"Good-bye, Cynthia!" + +Struck with pity for his haggard face and hollow eyes, Cynthia came up +to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. + +"I was mad just now! I said more than I think I meant, Hubert. Forgive +me before you go; but never come here again." + +Their eyes met, and then some instinct prompted her to whisper very +low--"Could you not, even now, save my father if you tried?" + +Surely his good angel pleaded with him in Cynthia's guise, and, looking +into her face, he answered as he had never thought to answer in this +world-- + +"Yes, Cynthia; if I took his place, I could." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Westwood had scouted Cynthia's notion that the woman in black who seemed +to be following them could possibly be a spy; nevertheless he meditated +upon it with some anxiety, and resolved, on his arrival at his lodgings, +to be wary and circumspect--also to show that he was on his guard. He +relapsed therefore into the very uncommunicative "single gentleman" whom +Mrs. Gunn, his landlady, had at first found him to be, and refused +rather gruffly her invitation that afternoon to take tea with her in her +own parlor in the company of herself and her niece. + +"He's grumpier than ever," she said to this niece, who was no other than +Sabina Meldreth, now paying a visit--on business principles--of +indefinite duration to her aunt's abode in Camden Town; "and I did think +that you'd melted him a bit last week, Sabina! But he's as close as +wax! Let's sit down to our tea before it gets black and bitter, as he +won't come." + +"He must have seen me in the Gardens," said Sabina, who was dressed in +the brightest of blue gowns, with red ribbons at her throat and wrists, +"though I should never have thought that he would recognise me, being in +black and having that thick black veil over my face." + +"I don't see what you wanted to foller him for!" said Mrs. Gunn. "What +business o' yours was it where he went and what he did? I don't think +you'll ever make anything of him"--for Miss Meldreth had begun to harbor +matrimonial designs on the unconscious Mr. Reuben Dare. + +"I'm not so sure," said Sabina. "Once get a man by himself, and you can +do a' most anything with him, so long as there's no other woman in the +way." + +"And is there another woman in the way?" + +"Yes, aunt Eliza, there is." + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Gunn, emptying the water-jug into the +tea-pot in pure absence of mind. "You saw him with one, did you?" + +"Yes, aunt Eliza, I did." + +"And what was she like, Sabina?" + +"Well, some folks would call her handsome," said Sabina dubiously; "and +she was dressed like a lady--I'll say that for her. But what's odd is +that I'm nearly sure I heard her call him 'father.' She's young enough +to be his daughter, anyway." + +"Did he call her anything?" + +"I couldn't hear. But I'll tell you what I did afterwards, aunt Eliza; I +followed her when she came out at the gate--and she didn't see me then. +She went straight to a house in Norton Square; and I managed to make +some inquiries about her at a confectioner's shop in the neighborhood. +The house belongs to a music-mistress; and this girl is a singer. +'Cynthia West,' they call her--I've seen her name in the newspapers. +Well, I thought I would wait round a bit, and presently I saw a man go +to the house to deliver a note; and thinks I to myself, 'I know that +face.' And so I did. It was Mr. Lepel's man, Jenkins, as used to come +down with him to Beechfield." + +"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Gunn, raising her hands in amazement. + +"He knew me," Sabina proceeded tranquilly; "and so we had a little chat +together. I says to him, 'Who is it you take notes to at number +five--the old lady or the young one?' 'Oh,' says he, 'the young one, to +be sure. Scrumptious, isn't she?' 'Cynthia West?' says I. 'Yes,' he +says--'and Mrs. Hubert Lepel before very long, if I've got eyes to see! +He's always after her.' 'That ain't very likely,' I said, 'because he's +got a young lady already in the country.' 'One in the country and one in +the town,' he says, with a wink--'that's the usual style, isn't it?' +And, seeing that he was disposed to be familiar, I said good-day to him +and came away." + +"What will you do now then, Sabina?" + +"Well," said Sabina reflectively, "I think I shall let Mrs. Vane know. +She'd be glad to have a sort of handle against her brother, I'm +thinking. And these people--Mr. Dare and Miss West--seem to have got +something to do with Beechfield, for I'm certain it was to Beechfield he +went when he left here for that fortnight. He gave no address--that was +natural maybe--but he'd got the Whitminster label on his bag when he +came back. And, if Miss West was being courted by Mr. Lepel, and her +father wanted to know who Mr. Lepel was and all about him, he might +easily gather that Beechfield was the place to go to. I suppose he +wanted to find out whether Mr. Lepel was engaged to Miss Vane or not. +And I've a sort of idea too that there's something mysterious about it +all. Why shouldn't he have said straight out where he was going, +especially when I had already told him that I knew Whitminster so well +and belonged to Beechfield? It seems to me that Mr. Dare has got +something to conceal; and I'd like to know what it is before I go any +farther." + +"Any farther!" said her aunt contemptuously. "It don't seem to me that +you've got very far!" + +"Farther than you think," was Miss Meldreth's reply. "He's afraid of me, +or else he would have come to tea this afternoon. And a woman can always +manage a man that's afraid of her." + +Fortified by this conviction, Sabina sat down after tea to indite a +letter to Mrs. Vane. She was not a very deft scribe, and the spelling of +certain words was a mystery to her. But, with the faults of its +orthography corrected the letter finally stood thus-- + +"MADAM--I thought you might like to know as how there is a gentleman, +named Reuben Dare, lodging here at my aunt's, as seems to have a secret +interest in Beechfield. I think, but I am not quite sure, that he spent +a few days at the Beechfield inn not long ago. He is tall and thin and +brown, with white hair and beard and very black eyes. He will not talk +much about Beechfield, and yet seems to know it well. Says he comes from +America. He was walking for a long time in Kensington Garden this +morning with a young woman that goes by the name of Cynthia West and is +a singer. She calls; him 'Father.' Madam, I take the liberty of +informing you that Mr. H. Lepel visits her constant, and is said to be +going to marry her. She is what gentlemen call good-looking, though too +dark for my taste. It does not seem to be generally known that she has a +parent living. + + "Yours respectfully, + "SABINA MELDRETH." + +Mrs. Vane read this letter with considerable surprise. She meditated +upon it for some time with closed lips and knitted brows; then she rang +the bell for Parker. + +"Parker," she said, "can you tell me whether any strangers have been +visiting Beechfield lately?" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am! There was an old gentleman at the 'Crown' a few days +ago. The post-office woman told me that he came from America." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes, ma'am--'Mr. Dare.'" + +"The woman at the post-office told you that? Did you ever see him?" + +"Yes, ma'am. He spoke to me one evening when I'd run out with a letter, +and asked me the way to the Hall." + +"And then?" + +"He said he'd heard of a Mr. Lepel at Beechfield, ma'am," said Parker, +rather reluctantly, "and that he knew a Mr. Lepel and wondered, whether +it was the same. But it wasn't. The Mr. Lepel he knew was short and fair +and was married; the Mr. Lepel that came here, as I told him, was dark +and tall and engaged to Miss Vane." + +"You had no right to tell him that, Parker; it is not public property." + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am! I'd heard it so often that I +thought everybody knew." + +"What else did this Mr. Dare say?" + +"I don't remember, ma'am." + +"Did he ask no other questions? Did he ask, for instance, whether Mr. +Lepel was not very fond of Miss Vane?" + +"Well, yes, ma'am; now you mention it I think he did--though how you +came to guess it----" + +"Never mind how I came to guess it. What did you say?" + +"I said that he worshipped the ground she trod upon, and that she was +just the same with him." + +"And pray how did you know that?"--Parker shuffled. + +"Well, ma'am, I couldn't rightly say; but it's what is general with +young ladies and young gentlemen, and it wouldn't have looked well, I +thought, to ha' said anythink else." + +"Oh, I see! The remark was purely conventional," said Flossy cynically. +"I congratulate you, Parker, on always doing as much harm as you can +whenever you take anything in hand. Did he seem pleased by what you +said?" + +"Not exactly pleased, ma'am--nor displeased; I think, if anything, he +was more pleased than not." + +"That will do," Mrs. Vane said shortly; and Parker retired, much +relieved in her mind by having come off, as she considered, so well. + +Mrs. Vane proceeded to electrify the household the next morning by +declaring that she must at once go up to London in order to see her +dentist. She announced her intention at a time when the General, much to +his annoyance, could not possibly accompany her. She said to him very +sweetly that she had chosen that hour on purpose because she did not +want to put him to needless inconvenience, and that she preferred to go +with Parker only as her companion. She hated to be seen, she said, when +she was in pain. + +The General fumed and fretted; but, as he had an important meeting to +attend at Whitminster that day, he could but put his wife into the train +and give Parker endless injunctions to be careful of her mistress. +Parker promised fervently to do all that lay in her power; and with a +serene smile Flossy listened to the General's orders and her maid's +asseverations with equal tranquility. They had the carriage to +themselves; and not until the train was nearly to London did Mrs. Vane +rouse herself from the restful semi-slumber in which she seemed to have +passed the journey. Then she sat up suddenly, with a curiously +wide-awake and resolute air, and addressed herself to her maid. + +"I shall not require you at all to-day, Parker. I brought you only +because the General would never have allowed me to come alone; but I +dislike being attended by any one when I go to the dentist's or to the +doctor's. You may wait at the railway-station until I come back. I may +be only an hour, or I may be gone all day." + +"The General's orders, ma'am," began Parker, with a gasp; but her +mistress cut the sentence short at once. + +"I suppose you understand that you are my servant and not the +General's?" she said. "You will obey my orders, if you please." + +She gave the maid some money, and instructions to spend as much as she +pleased at buffet and book-stalls until her return. + +"Enjoy yourself as much as you like and as much as you can," said Mrs. +Vane carelessly--"only don't stir from the station, for when I come back +I shall want you at once." + +She installed the faithful Parker safely in the waiting-room, and then +went out and got into a cab--not a hansom cab; Mrs. Vane did not wish to +be seen in her drive through the London streets. The address which she +gave to the cabman was not that of her dentist, but of the lodgings at +present tenanted by her brother. + +Parker remained at the station in a state of tearful collapse. She was +terribly afraid of being questioned and stormed at by the General when +she got back for neglect of her trust. She was certainly what Flossy had +called her--"a faithful fool." She wanted to do all that her mistress +required; but it had not as yet even occurred to her that Mrs. Vane was +quite certain to require utter silence, towards the General and +everybody else, on the question of her disposition of the day. And, if +silence was impossible, a good bold lie would do as well. Parker had not +yet grasped the full amount of devotion that was expected of her. + +Hubert had seldom been more surprised in his life than when the +elegantly-dressed lady who was ushered into his sitting-room proved to +be his sister Florence. She had never visited him before. He sprang up +from his writing-table, which was piled high with books and manuscripts, +flung a half-smoked cigar into the grate, and greeted her with a mixture +of doubt and astonishment, which amused if it did not flatter the astute +Mrs. Vane. + +"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I hope you are not the bearer of +ill news, Flossy! Is anything wrong at Beechfield?" + +"Oh, dear, no! I came up to see my dentist," said Flossy carelessly, +"and I thought that I would give you a call _en passant_. So these are +your rooms? Not at all bad for a bachelor!" + +"That is high praise from you, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling faintly. + +"But you do not look at all well, Hubert. What is the matter with you? +You look terribly fagged!" + +Her remark was justified by his appearance. His face had a drawn look +which added ten years to his age; his eyes seemed almost to have sunk +into his head. He made an impatient gesture, and looked away. + +"I have not been very well," he said; "but there is no need to speak +about it. I am very busy, and I want rest--change of scene and air." + +"Why not come down to Beechfield?" + +He gave a slight but perceptible shudder. + +"No," he said briefly, and then stood leaning against his writing-table, +and was silent. + +"Hubert," said his sister, a little more quickly than usual, "I said +that I wanted to see my dentist, but I had another reason for coming to +town. Can you tell me where I can find a file of the _Times_ newspaper +for the early months of the year 187-?"--she mentioned the year of +Sydney Vane's death and the trial of Andrew Westwood. + +"You want--the trial?" said her brother, with an evident effort. She +bowed her head. + +"Why?" + +"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall +them to my mind." + +He stood looking at her silently. + +"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if +to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a public library, no doubt. +The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go +elsewhere." + +"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies +myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you." + +"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as +she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair. + +He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a +little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane +noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else +had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the +subject. + +"Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray +gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your +aid." + +He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside +her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write +again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and +clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he +remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of +the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied. + +"Have you found all that you wanted?" + +"Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured--the +fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia +Janet Westwood"--"Cynthia West"--it was plain enough to her quick +intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never +thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the +_Times_. + +"By-the-bye," said Flossy lightly, "I hear sad tales of you in town. How +often is it that you go to see the new singer--Miss West? Has poor Enid +a rival?" + +He did not look round; but she saw that her question sent a shock +through his nerves. + +"I do not know what you mean," he answered coldly. + +"Oh, do you not? You may as well speak the truth--to me, Hubert. Are you +going to marry Miss West or Miss Vane--which?" + +"Neither, I think." + +"Don't be absurd. Are you going to marry Miss West?" + +"No." + +"Shall you marry Enid Vane?" + +"It is not very likely that she will marry me." + +Something in the intense dreariness of his tone struck painfully on +Florence's ear. She rose and put her hand on Hubert's shoulder. + +"What is the matter with you, Hubert?" + +He shook off her hand as if it had been a noxious reptile of which he +desired to rid himself, and rose to his feet. + +"You must not mind what I say to-day, Florence. I am not well. I--I +shall see you another time." + +"Of course you will--plenty of times, I hope!" A look of dismay began to +show itself in Flossy's velvet-brown eyes. "You are not contemplating +any new step, I hope? I----" + +"Don't be alarmed!" he said, with a hoarse unnatural laugh. "Before I +take any new step I will come to you. I will not leave you without a +warning." Then he seemed to recover his self-possession and spoke in +more measured tones. "Nonsense, Florence--don't concern yourself about +me! I have a bad headache--that is all. If I am left alone, I shall soon +be better." + +"I hope you will," said Flossy, rather gravely, "for you look alarmingly +ill to-day. You should send for the doctor, Hubert. And now I will say +good-bye, for I have two or three other things to do to-day, besides +going to my dentist's. The cab is at the door; you need not come down." + +He rose, as she really expected him to do, to see her to her cab; but a +sensation of dizziness and faintness made him sit down again and bury +his head in his hands. Considerably alarmed, Florence rang for Jenkins, +his man, and gave strict orders that the doctor should be sent for at +once. Then, feeling that she had for the present at least done her duty, +she took her leave, promising to call again before she left town that +afternoon. + +Jenkins went for the doctor, as Mrs. Vane had told him to do. When that +gentleman arrived, he found Mr. Lepel stretched on a sofa in a +half-unconscious state, and declared him to be in one of the incipient +stages of brain-fever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Mrs. Vane, on leaving her brother's lodgings, drove straight to Camden +Town. She had reasons for wishing to see Sabina Meldreth. The house was +a little difficult to find, because the street had recently been renamed +and renumbered, and Mrs. Vane was forced, to her great disgust, to +descend from the cab and make inquiries in her own person of various +frowsy-looking women standing at their own doors. "I wish I had brought +Parker," she said to herself more than once; "she would have been useful +in this kind of work. Surely Sabina has given me the right address!" + +"There goes the gentleman that lodges at Mrs. Gunn's!" said one of the +frowsy-looking women at last. "I've heard tell that he was there, though +I didn't know the number. Will you tell this lady, please, sir, what +number Mrs. Gunn's is?" + +The white-bearded old man who was just then passing along the street +turned to Mrs. Vane. + +"I shall be very happy to show the lady the house," he said half raising +his felt hat from his white head with something like foreign politeness. +And then he and Flossy exchanged glances which were hard and keen as +steel. + +He knew her well by sight; but she did not recognise him. She had seen +Westwood only once or twice in her life, and this apparently gentle old +man with the silvery hair did not harmonise with Flossy's impressions of +the Beechfield poacher. Nevertheless she was suspicious enough to +remember that all things were possible; and she made a mental note of +his dark eyes and eyebrows, the latter being a little out of keeping +with his very white hair. As a matter of fact, Westwood had gone too far +in selecting his disguise; a more ordinary slightly-grizzled wig would +have suited his general appearance better. The _perruquier_--an artist +in his way--to whom he had applied considered picturesque effect an +object not to be overlooked; and Mr. Reuben Dare was accordingly a +rather too strikingly picturesque individual to be anything but +theatrical in air. + +He showed Mrs. Vane the house, bowed politely, and then passed down the +street. + +"She's come to enquire about me--I am sure of that," he said. "I'd +better change my lodgings as quick as possible. I'll leave them +to-morrow--to-night would look suspicious, maybe: or should I leave them +now, and never go back?" + +He was half inclined to adopt this course; but he was deterred by the +remembrance of a pocket-book containing money which he had left locked +up in his portmanteau. He could not well dispense with it; and neither +Mrs. Vane nor anybody else could do him any harm, he thought, if he +stayed for twenty-four hours longer at Mrs. Gunn's. But he trusted a +little too much to the uncertainties of fate. + +"Well, Sabina," said Mrs. Vane coolly, as, with a general air of +bewilderment, that young person appeared before her in Mrs. Gunn's best +parlor, "I suppose that you hardly expected to see me here?" + +"No, ma'am, I didn't. I thought you was quite too much of an invalid to +leave home." + +"It is rather an effort," said Flossy drily, "especially considering the +neighborhood in which you live." + +"It ain't country certainly," returned Sabina; "but it's respectable." + +"Ah, like yourself!" said Mrs. Vane. "That was the reason you came to +it, I suppose. Don't look angry, Sabina--I was only meaning to make a +little joke. But jokes are a mistake with most people. I came to answer +your letter in person and to have a talk with you." + +"Won't you have anything to eat, ma'am? We've just finished dinner; but, +if there's anything we can get"--Sabina was evidently inclined to be +obsequious--"an egg, or a chop, or a cup of tea----" + +"No, I don't want anything. Who is this Mr. Reuben Dare?" + +"That's what I want to know, ma'am!" + +"And who is this Miss West?"--Sabina shook her head. + +"She calls him her father--I'm sure of that." + +"Where does she come from? Where was she brought up?" + +"Couldn't say, ma'am. Jenkins says that Miss West used to act at the +Frivolity Theatre--he's seen her there about two years ago. Mr. Lepel +took her up, as far as he can make out, about a year and a half +ago--soon after he settled in London again." + +"Do you think that the man Dare has any connection with Beechfield +beside that of his recent visit?" + +"Yes, I do. He caught himself up like once or twice when I began to talk +of it; and once he put me right--accidental like--about the name of +somebody at Beechfield." + +"Whose name?" + +"I'm not sure as I can remember. Yes, I do, though! It was Mr. Rumbold's +first name. I called him 'The Reverend Edward,' and he says +'Alfred'--quick, as if he wasn't thinking. So he must have known the +place in years gone by." + +Flossy sat thinking. + +"Sabina," she said at length, in her smoothest tones, "I will take you +into my confidence--I know you can be trusted. Of course it would be a +great blow to me if my brother married an actress--a girl whom one knows +nothing at all about; besides, he is almost engaged to my husband's +niece, Miss Vane." She did not add that she had been subtly opposing +this engagement by all the means in her power for the last few weeks. +"We must try to break off the connection as soon as we can. The more we +know about this Miss West's past life the better. I will go to the +Frivolity myself, and see whether I can learn anything about it there. +And, Sabina----" + +"Yes, ma'am," said the woman, as Mrs. Vane paused. + +"That mass of white hair, Sabina--do you think it looks quite natural?" + +"Mr. Dare, you mean, ma'am? No, I don't; I believe it's a wig. I've seen +it quite on one side." + +"Couldn't you find out, Sabina?" + +"Well, I don't see how," said Sabina slowly. "I've never seen him +without it. One night there was an alarm of fire, and everybody rushed +to their doors, and Mr. Dare came too; but his hair and his beard and +everything was just the same as usual. Still I'm sure I've seen it a +little on one side." + +"You provide his food here, do you not? Do you ever help your aunt?" + +"Sometimes, ma'am. I take in his tea and all that, you know. We're by +way of being very friendly, Mr. Dare and me." + +"Sabina, if you had the stuff, could you not quietly put something into +his tea which would make him sleep for an hour or two? And, when he was +asleep, could you not find out what I want to know?" + +Sabina was silent for a moment. + +"What should I get for it?" she said at last. "It's always a risk to +run." + +"Twenty pounds," said Flossy promptly. "There is very little risk." + +"And where should I get the stuff?" + +"I--I have it with me," said Mrs. Vane. + +Sabina, who had been standing, suddenly sat down and burst out laughing. + +"Well, you are a deep one," she said, when her laughter was ended, and +she observed that Mrs. Vane was regarding her rather angrily; "if you'll +excuse me for saying so, ma'am, but you are the very deepest one I ever +came across! And you don't look it one bit!" + +"I suppose you mean both of these assertions for compliments," said +Flossy. "If so you need not trouble to make them again. This is a +business matter. Will you undertake it, or will you not?" + +"When?" + +"To-night." + +"To-night! When he comes in to tea? Well, is it safe?" + +"You mean the drug? Perfectly safe. He will never know that he has had +it. It will keep him sound asleep for a couple of hours at least. During +that time I do not think that thunder itself would wake him." + +"You've tried it before, I'll warrant?" said Sabina half questioningly, +half admiringly. + +"Yes," said Flossy placidly, "I have tried it before." She took a little +bottle of greenish glass from the small morocco bag which she carried in +her hand, and held it up to the light. "There are two doses in it," she +said. "Don't use it all at once. A drop or two more or less does not +matter; you need not be afraid of making it a little too strong. It is +colorless and tasteless. Can you manage it?" + +Sabina considered. + +"If I put it into the tea-pot, it might be wasted; he might not drink +all the tea. He never lets me pour it out for him. Would it alter the +look of the milk?" + +"Not at all." + +"Then I could put it into his cream-jug, and give him so little that +he's sure to use it all and ring for more. He likes a deal of milk in +his tea." + +"Then you will do it, Sabina?" + +Again Sabina hesitated. Finally she said, with sudden decision-- + +"Give me that twenty pound, and then I will." + +"Not until you have earned it." + +"If I don't have it beforehand, I won't do it at all," said Sabina +doggedly. + +Mrs. Vane shrugged her shoulders slightly, opened her bag, and put the +little bottle back into its place. + +"You said you could trust me; show me that you can," said Sabina, +unmoved by this pantomime. "One of us will have to trust the other. I +may do it, and then--who knows?--you may back out of the bargain." + +"Did I ever 'back out of a bargain,' as you coarsely express it? I +think, Sabina, I have trusted you a good deal already." + +"Well, split the difference," said Sabina roughly. "Give me ten down on +the nail, and ten when I've done the work. I dare say I can manage it +to-night. I can write to you when it's over." + +"Very well. Here are ten pounds for you; I will give you the other when +your work is done. But do not write to me; come to me at the Grosvenor +Hotel to-morrow morning. I shall stay the night in town!" + +"Have you any idea who the man is?" said Sabina, as she received the +bottle and the ten-pound note from her visitor's hands. + +"Yes, I have; but I may be wrong." + +"That's not very likely, ma'am. You'd 'a' made a good detective, as I +always did think--you're so sharp." + +"And I don't look it, as you said before. Perhaps I will tell you +to-morrow morning, Sabina. At present I am going to find out all that I +can about Miss Cynthia West. You did not give me her address; give it to +me now." + +She wrote it down in a little pocket-book, and then rose to take her +leave. Sabina, who followed her to the cab, heard her tell the man to +drive to the box-office of the Frivolity Theatre. + +It took Mrs. Vane three-quarters of an hour to reach the Frivolity. It +was half-past three when she got there. She asked at once if it was +possible to see the manager, Mr. Ferguson. A gold coin probably +expedited her messenger and rendered her entrance to the great man +possible; for Mrs. Vane was a very handsome and well-dressed woman, and +the "important business" on which she sent word that she had come had +possibly less influence on the manager's mind than the glowing account +given by the man despatched from the box-office on her errand. + +Flossy was lucky. Mr. Ferguson was in the building--a rather unusual +fact; he was also willing to see her in his private room--another +concession; and he received her with moderate civility--a variation from +his usual manner, which Mrs. Vane must have owed to her own manner and +appearance. + +"I shall not detain you for more than a very few minutes, Mr. Ferguson," +said Flossy, with the air of a duchess, as she accepted the chair which +the manager offered her; "but I have a good reason for coming to you. I +think that a young lady called Cynthia West was once acting at this +theatre? To put my question in plain words--Do you know anything about +her?" + +The manager sneered a little. + +"A good deal," he said. "Oh, yes--she was here! I don't know that I have +anything to tell, however. I should think that Mr. Hubert Lepel, if you +know him, could tell you more about her than any one." + +"I happen to be Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy, with dignity. + +"The deuce you are!" remarked the manager to himself. "That +explains----" Aloud--"Well, madam, how can I assist you? Do you want to +know Miss West's character? Well, that was--if I may use the +word--notorious." + +Flossy's eyes gleamed. + +"So I expected to hear," she murmured. "I am afraid that my poor brother +has some thought of--of marrying her." + +"Oh, surely not!" said Mr. Ferguson. "Surely he wouldn't be such a +fool!" + +"Can you tell me anything definite about her?" + +"Excuse me, madam, for asking; but you--naturally--wish to prevent the +marriage, if possible?" + +"I certainly do not wish my brother to ruin himself for life, as he +would do if she were such a--such a person as you imply." Mrs. Vane's +lips were evidently much too delicate to say in plain terms what she +meant. "If she were as respectable as she seems to be talented, of +course objections about birth and station might be overlooked. But my +brother has expectations from relatives who take the old-fashioned views +about a woman's position; and the mere fact of her being a singer or an +actress might be against her in their eyes. It would be much better for +him if the whole thing were broken off." + +She was purposely vague and diplomatic. + +"Mr. Lepel's his own master, of course," said the manager; "so perhaps +he knows all we can tell him--and more. But you are welcome to use any +information that I can give you." His little green eyes gleamed with +malice, and a triumphant smile showed itself at the corners of his thick +hanging lips. "Miss West's career is well known. Lalli, a member of our +orchestra, picked her out of the streets when she was sixteen or +seventeen, trained her a bit, and brought her here. We soon found out +what sort of person she was, and I spoke my mind to Lalli about it; for, +though we're not particular as to a girl's character, still now and +then---- Well, she was under his protection at the time, and there was +nothing much to be done; so we let her alone. He died suddenly about a +couple of years ago; and then, I believe, she accosted Mr. Lepel in the +street, and went to his rooms and fastened herself upon him, as women of +her sort sometimes do. He took her up, sent her to Italy for a bit, put +her under the care of that woman della Scala--as a blind to the public, +I suppose--and got her brought out as a singer; and she seems to have +had a fair amount of success." + +Mr. Ferguson's account of Cynthia's career had an intermixture of fact, +but it was so artfully combined with falsehood that it was difficult to +disentangle one from the other. + +Flossy listened with keen attention; it struck her at once that Mr. +Ferguson was blackening the girl's character out of spite. + +"Do you know where she came from before your musician, Lalli, discovered +her, Mr. Ferguson?" + +"No, I do not, madam. But I have followed her course with interest ever +since"--which was true. + +"And do you know where she resided before he died?" + +"No, madam--I really do not"--which was utterly false. "Perhaps I could +ascertain for you, and let you know." + +Flossy thanked him and rose. She had not attained her object precisely; +but she had received information that might prove extremely valuable. +The manager bowed her out of his room politely, and called to one of his +subordinates to show her down-stairs. + +This was a little mistake on Mr. Ferguson's part; he did not calculate +on his visitor's questioning his subordinate, who happened to be a young +man with a taste for the violin. + +"Did you know a Mr. Lalli who was once in the orchestra here?" said +Flossy graciously. + +"Oh, yes, ma'am! He was here for a very long time." + +"Do you know where he used to live?" + +"Yes, ma'am, No.--, Euston Road; it's a boarding-house, kept by a Mrs. +Wadsley. He died there." + +Quite astonished by her own success, Flossy slipped a coin into his hand +and made him call her a hansom cab. She was beginning to think of speed +more than of the probability of being recognised in the London streets. + +To Mrs. Wadsley's then in all haste. The dingily respectable air of the +house and of the proprietress herself at once impressed Mrs. Vane with +the idea that Mr. Ferguson had been largely drawing on his own +imagination with respect to Cynthia West. Nothing certainly could be +more idyllic than the story of Lalli's devotion to the girl, whom he had +brought home one night with an assurance to Mrs. Wadsley that she was +the daughter of an old friend, and that he would be responsible for the +payment of her board and lodging until she began to earn her own living. + +"He was just like a father to her," said Mrs. Wadsley confidentially; +"and teach her he would, and scold her sometimes by the hour together. I +assure you, Mrs. Vane, it was wonderful to see the pains that he took +with her. I see in the papers that she has been singing at concerts +lately; and I said to my friend Mrs. Doldrum, 'How pleased poor dear old +Mr. Lalli would have been if he had known!'" + +"He was quite an old man, I suppose?" said Mrs. Vane. "There was no talk +of marriage between them--of an attachment of any kind?" + +Mrs. Wadsley drew herself up in rather an offended manner. + +"Certainly not, madam--save as father and daughter might be attached one +to another. Mr. Lalli was old enough to be the girl's grandfather; and +Cynthia--oh, she was quite a child! I hope you do not think that I +should have chaperoned her if any such matter had seemed likely to +occur; but there was nothing of the kind. Mr. Lalli was quite too +serious-minded for anything of that sort--a deeply religious man, +although an Italian, Mrs. Vane." + +"Indeed, I am glad to hear it," said Flossy solemnly. "Miss West had no +engagement--no love-affair, in short--going on when she was with you?" + +"Certainly not, Mrs. Vane." + +"Did you ever hear her say where she had lived--where she had been +educated--before she came to London?" + +"I did hear something of a school that she had been at," said Mrs. +Wadsley, after a little reflection; "but where it was I could not +exactly tell you. They were Sisters, I believe, who taught her--Roman +Catholics, very probably. 'St. Elizabeth's'--that was the name of the +school; but where it is to be found I am sure I cannot say." + +"At St. Elizabeth's, East Winstead?" said Mrs. Vane quickly. She had +heard the name from the Rumbolds. + +"I am sure I cannot say, Mrs. Vane." + +"Miss West was not a Roman Catholic, was she?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Mrs. Wadsley with great stiffness. + +Flossy's questions had not impressed her favorably; but the words next +uttered by her visitor did away to some extent with the bad impression. + +"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wadsley, for your kind information! The fact is +that a relative of mine his fallen in love with Miss West, and I was +asked to find out who she was and all about her. Everything I have heard +is so entirely charming and satisfactory, that I shall be able to set +everything right, and assure my friends that we shall be honored by an +alliance with Miss West. I hope we shall see you at the wedding, Mrs. +Wadsley, when it takes place." + +"When it takes place," Flossy repeated to herself, when she stood once +more in the noisy London street; "but I do not think it will ever take +place. I wonder how far it is to East Winstead; and whether it is worth +while going there or not?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +It was not much after five, and the days were very long. Mrs. Vane found +that she could reach East Winstead by seven, and, allowing for one hour +at St. Elizabeth's, could be back in London by half-past nine. She, who +was said to be an invalid, who never walked half a mile alone or exerted +herself in any avoidable way, now showed herself as unwearied, as +vigorous, as energetic as any able-bodied detective in the pursuit of +his duty. She went first to the station where she had left Parker, and +gave the maid her instructions. Parker was to go to the Grosvenor Hotel +and engage rooms for the night for herself and her mistress, and to see +that every requisite for comfort was provided for Mrs. Vane when she +arrived. At half-past seven precisely she was to despatch a telegram +which Flossy herself had written for the General's benefit, announcing +her intention to stay the night in town. It was not to be sent earlier, +as in that case the General would be rushing off to London to take care +of his wife, and Flossy did not want him in the least. If he got the +telegram between eight and nine, he would scarcely start that night, +although she knew that she might fully expect to see him in the morning. +He was a most affectionate husband, and never believed that his wife was +capable of doing anything for herself. + +Parker was much amazed by Mrs. Vane's proceedings, and did not believe +that the dentist was responsible for them, or Mr. Hubert Lepel either, +although Flossy was careful to put the blame of her detention upon these +innocent persons. She was not allowed to know what her mistress was +going to do, but was sent away from the station to the hotel at once in +a hansom-cab. Then Flossy calmly provided herself with sandwiches and a +flask of sherry, took a return-ticket for East Winstead and found +herself moving out of the station in a fast train at exactly five +minutes to six. It was quick work; but she had accomplished the task +that she had set herself to do. Flossy had a genius for intrigue. + +She reached East Winstead at seven, and found a cab at the station. The +drive to St. Elizabeth's occupied twenty minutes--longer than she had +anticipated. She would have to do her work--make all her inquiries--in +exactly one quarter of an hour if she meant to catch the next train to +London. Well, a quarter of an hour ought to tell her all that she wished +to know. + +She took little notice of the beauty of garden and architecture at St. +Elizabeth's; these were not what she had gone to see. She asked at the +door if she could see the Sister in charge of the girl's school. + +"Which--the orphanage or the ladies' school?" + +"The orphanage," was Flossy's prompt reply; and accordingly she was +shown into the presence of Sister Louisa. + +"I am afraid that I must appear very brusque and abrupt," said Mrs. +Vane, with the soft graciousness of manner which proved so powerful a +weapon in her armory; "but I shall have to come to the point at once, as +I have only a few minutes to spare. Can you tell me whether you ever had +a child in your orphanage called Cynthia West?" + +Sister Louisa considered, and then shook her head. + +"'Cynthia' is an uncommon name," she said. "I am sure what we never +had--at least, within the last ten years." + +"It would not be so long ago," said Mrs. Vane. "I have reason, however, +to think that 'Cynthia West' is not her real name. Would the name of +'Westwood'--'Cynthia Janet Westwood'--recall any child to your memory?" + +Sister Louisa started, and a flush covered her mild thin face. + +"Is it possible," she said, "that you mean our lost child Jane Wood?" + +"She may have been known under that name," said Florence. "You had a +girl here called 'Jane Wood,' then? Why do you think that she has any +connection with Cynthia West?" + +"You mentioned the name of 'Westwood,'" said Sister Louisa eagerly. +"Jane Wood's name was really 'Westwood'; but, as she was the daughter of +a notorious criminal, Mrs. Rumbold of Beechfield, who placed her with +us, asked that she should be called 'Wood.' She was the child of +Westwood, who committed a dreadful murder at Beechfield, in Hampshire--a +gentleman called Vane----" Here Sister Louisa glanced at the visitor's +card. "You know perhaps," she went on in some confusion; but Flossy +interrupted her. + +"Mr. Vane, the murdered man, was my brother-in-law. I am the wife of +General Vane of Beechfield. I had some notion that this girl Cynthia +West was identical with Westwood's daughter, but I could not be sure of +the fact. How long was she with you, may I ask?" + +Then she heard the whole story. She heard how the child had come to St. +Elizabeth's, and been gradually tamed and civilised; of her wonderful +voice and talent for music; of the generosity of certain persons +unknown, supposed to be the Vanes; of the outburst of passion when +"Janey" heard the lay-sister's accusation of her father, and her +subsequent disappearance; then--not greatly to Flossy's surprise--of Mr. +Lepel's visit, and his search for the girl, which--so far as the Sister +knew--seemed to have ended in failure. + +"But you have found her after all!" cried the good Sister, when Flossy +acknowledged that she was the sister of Hubert Lepel, and presumably +interested in his charitable enterprises. "I am so glad! And she is +growing quite famous? Dear me, I wonder that Mr. Lepel did not let us +know!" + +"Possibly he thought that you would be more grieved than delighted by +the discovery of her present position," said Flossy, not sorry to aim an +arrow at the unknown Cynthia behind her back, and perhaps deprive her of +some very useful and affectionate friends. "Miss West, as she calls +herself, does not bear a good character." She felt a malicious pleasure +in bringing the color into the Sister's delicate cheeks, the moisture +into those kindly, mild gray eyes. "She went upon the stage almost at +once, and lived--well, I need not tell you how she lived perhaps; you +can imagine it no doubt for yourself. I am afraid she was a thoroughly +bad girl from the first." + +"Oh, no, no--I hope not!" exclaimed Sister Louisa, the tears flowing +freely over her pale face. "Our poor Janie! She was a dear child, +generous and kind-hearted, although impetuous and wilful now and then. +If you see her, Mrs. Vane, tell her that our arms are always open to +her--that, if she will come back to us, we will give her pardon and +care, and help her to lead a good and honest life." + +"I am afraid she will never return to you--she would probably be +ashamed," said Mrs. Vane, rather venomously, as she took her leave. "I +am so sorry to hurry away, Sister, but I am afraid that I must catch my +train. You are quite sure then that Jane or Janie Wood, who had such a +beautiful voice, and ran away from you in July, 187-, was really the +daughter of the convict Westwood, and that Mr. Lepel and Mrs. Rumbold +placed her with you and sought for her afterwards?" + +"Quite sure," said Sister Louisa. + +There was a vague trouble at her heart--an uneasiness for which she +could not account. Something in Mrs. Vane's manner--something in her +tone, her smile, her eyes--was distasteful to the unerring instincts of +the pure God-fearing woman, as it had been to the trained observation of +Maurice Evandale. Flossy might do her best to be charming--she might +disarm criticism by the sweetness of her manner; but, in spite of her +efforts, candid and unsullied natures were apt to discern in her a want +of frankness--a little taint of something which they hardly liked to +name. Sister Louisa grieved sorely over what she had heard of Cynthia; +but she was also disturbed by an unconquerable distrust of this fair +fashionable woman of the world. + +"I think there is scarcely any link wanting in the chain," said Mrs. +Vane to herself, when, having just caught her train, she was being +whirled back to the metropolis. "Jane Wood was Cynthia Janet Westwood. +She had a fine voice, and was about sixteen years old when she left St. +Elizabeth's, July, 187-. In July, 187-, the same year, Lalli appeared at +Mrs. Wadsley's with a girl of sixteen, who also had a fine voice, who +had been at St. Elizabeth's, and who called herself Cynthia West. Mr. +Lepel had put Jane Wood at school; Mr. Lepel turns up later on as the +lover--protector--what not?--of Cynthia West. There is not the slightest +reasonable doubt that Jane Wood and Cynthia West are one and the same +person. That prosy old Sister would prove it in a moment if we brought +them face to face. And Jane Wood was Westwood's daughter. Cynthia West +is Westwood's daughter. Very easily traced! What will the world say when +it knows that the rising young soprano singer is the daughter of a +murderer? It won't much care, I suppose. But Hubert will care lest the +fact be known. He has been too careful in hiding it for that not to be +the case. Let me see--Cynthia West--presumably Westwood's +daughter--meets a mysterious stranger in Kensington Gardens and +addresses him as her father. The mysterious stranger comes from America, +and has white hair and a white beard--quite unlike Mr. Andrew Westwood, +be it remarked. Westwood escaped from Portland some years ago, and is +rumored to have settled in the backwoods of America. I think there is +very good reason for supposing that the mysterious stranger is Westwood +himself, returned to England in order to secure his daughter's aid and +companionship. And, if so, what a fool the man must be, when once he had +got safely away, to run his head into a nest of enemies! He must be mad +indeed! And, if mad," said Mrs. Vane, with a curiously cold and cruel +smile, "the best thing for him will be incarceration at Portland prison +once again." + +It was growing dark, and she was beginning to feel a little tired. She +put her feet upon the seat and closed her eyes. Before long she had +fallen into a placid slumber, which lasted until she reached the London +terminus. Then she drove straight to the Grosvenor Hotel, where she +found Parker waiting, and a dainty little supper prepared for her. + +Flossy did justice to her meal, and then went to bed, where she slept +the sleep of the innocent and the righteous, until Parker appeared at +her bedside the next morning with a breakfast-tray. + +"And there's Miss Meldreth in the sitting-room inquiring for you, ma'am. +Is she to come in? I wonder how she knew that you were here?" + +"Oh, I saw her accidentally yesterday afternoon," said Mrs. Vane, "and +told her to call! I want to know what she is doing in London. Yes--she +can come in." + +Parker accordingly summoned Miss Meldreth, and then, in obedience to a +sign from her mistress, retired rather sulkily. She was not very fond of +Mrs. Vane; but she resented any attempt on the part of a former servant +to come between her and her mistress' confidences; and she had an +impression that there was something between Mrs. Vane and Sabina which +she did not know. + +"Well, Sabina, how did the experiment succeed?" said Mrs. Vane easily. +In spite of her look of fatigue and her languid attitude amongst the +pillows, she spoke as if she had not a care in the world. + +"It succeeded all right," answered Sabina, a little shortly. + +"What did you find out?" + +"They're not real--his hair and beard, I mean. It's a wig. He's got +grayish dark-brown hair, and very little of it underneath, and whiskers. +He ain't nearly so old as we thought." + +"Tell me how you managed it," said Mrs. Vane--"from beginning to end." + +"Well, ma'am, he came in about five, as usual, to his tea; and I says to +aunt Eliza, 'I'll carry in the tray'; and I says, 'what a lot of milk +you've given him! I'll pour a little back.' And says she, 'you'd better +not, for he likes his tea half milk, and he'll only ring for more.' +'Well, then,' I says, 'it'll give me a chance of going in a second +time--and, you know, I like that.' So I emptied part of the milk away, +and then I put half of the stuff that you gave me into his jug, and I +took it into Mr. Dare's sitting-room. He looked at me very sharp when I +went in, almost as if he suspected me of something; but he didn't say +nothing, and neither did I. I set down his tray before him, and he pours +out the tea. Almost before I was out of the door, 'Miss Meldreth,' he +says, 'a little more milk, if you please.' 'Oh, didn't I bring you +enough, sir?' I says. 'If you'll pour that into your cup then, I'll send +out for some more, and it'll be here by the time you've done your first +cup. The cat knocked a basin of milk over this afternoon,' says I, 'and +so there isn't as much as usual in the house.'" + +"All that was pure invention, I suppose?" interrogated Mrs. Vane +cynically. + +"One had to say something, ma'am. He looked a little put out, and +hesitated for a minute or two; then he took and emptied the milk-jug +straight into his cup, and began to drink his tea; and I went out and +filled the jug again. I waited for a few minutes before I came back, and +I found him leaning back in his chair, with a sleepy look coming over +him directly. 'Miss Meldreth,' he said, 'I'm sorry to have troubled you, +for I really don't think I want any more tea'--and then he yawned fit to +take his head off--'and I'm going to lie down on the sofa to get a +little rest, for I am so uncommonly drowsy.'" + +"That seems a little sudden," said Mrs. Vane thoughtfully. "Are you sure +that he did not suspect anything?" + +"No, ma'am--I don't think so. Well, he laid down, and I went in and out +taking away the things; and, if you'll believe me, in ten minutes he was +fast asleep and snoring like--like a grampus!" + +"Well, Sabina?" + +"I let him stay so for nearly half an hour, so as to be sure that he was +thoroughly off, ma'am, and then I went up to him and touched his hair. +It was very nicely fitted on; but it was a wig for all that, and one +could easily see the dark hair underneath. The beard was more difficult +to move--there was some sticky stuff to fasten it on as well as an +elastic band behind the ears; but it was plainly a false one too. He's a +dark-looking man, almost like a gipsy, I should say, with hair that's +nearly black--something like his eyebrows. Do you think he's the man you +want, ma'am?" + +"I'm sure of it, Sabina. Do you want to earn three hundred pounds +besides your twenty?" + +"What, ma'am!" + +"Three hundred pounds, I remember, was offered for the arrest of Andrew +Westwood, escaped prisoner from Portland prison, five years ago. This +man is Andrew Westwood, Sabina, who murdered Sydney Vane. You shall have +the money to keep as soon as it is paid." + +Sabina drew back aghast. + +"A murderer," she said--"and him such a nice quiet-looking old +gentleman! Why, aunt Eliza was always planning a match between him and +me! It's awful!" + +Flossy laughed grimly. + +"People don't carry their crimes in their face, Sabina," she said. "Now +you can go away and wait in the sitting-room until Parker has dressed +me. Then you will come with me to Scotland Yard--I believe that is the +place to go to. I want that man arrested before nightfall. Here are your +ten pounds." + +"Oh," said Sabina--"I wish I'd known!" + +"Do you mean that you would not have helped me?" + +"I'm not sure, ma'am; I don't like the idea of shutting the poor man up +for ever and ever in a gaol." + +"Perhaps you don't mind the idea of murder?" said Mrs. Vane +sarcastically. "Don't be a fool, Sabina! Think of the three hundred +pounds too! You shall have it all, I promise you; and I will content +myself with the satisfaction of seeing him once more where he deserves +to be. Now call Parker." + +Sabina went back to the sitting-room, not daring to disobey. Her +reluctance, moreover, soon vanished as the thought of those three +hundred pounds took possession of her. She was absorbed in golden dreams +when Mrs. Vane rejoined her, and was quite prepared to do or say +whatever she was told. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Mrs. Vane left Parker at the hotel with a message for the General, +should he appear, that she was going to her dentist's and thence to her +brother's lodgings. But she and Sabina Meldreth went straight to +Scotland Yard and had an interview with one of the police authorities. + +Mrs. Vane's statement was clear and concise. She was complimented on the +cleverness that she had displayed; and Sabina was shown a photograph of +Andrew Westwood taken while he was at Portland. She could not be quite +so certain that it was Mr. Dare as Flossy would have desired her to be; +but the evidence was on the whole so far conclusive, that it was +determined to arrest Mrs. Gunn's lodger on suspicion. If he could give a +satisfactory account of himself, and if he could not be identified, he +would of course have to be set free again; but it seemed possible, if +not probable, that Reuben Dare was the very man for whom the police had +searched so vainly and so long. A cab was summoned, and an inspector of +police as well as a detective in plain clothes and a constable politely +followed Sabina into it. Mrs. Vane thought it more becoming to her +position not to assist at the arrest. She therefore remained behind, +unable to resist the temptation of awaiting their return with the +prisoner. + +She waited for nearly two hours. Then the cab came back again, and out +of it emerged two police-officers and Sabina; but no detective, and no +Reuben Dare. Flossy's heart beat quickly with a mixture of rage and +fear. Had she taken all this trouble for nothing, and had Reuben Dare +given a satisfactory account of himself after all? + +"The bird has flown, ma'am," said the inspector, entering the office +where she sat, with a rather crestfallen air. "He must have got some +notion of what was in the wind; for he went out this morning soon after +Miss Meldreth left the house, and evidently does not intend to come back +again. He has left his portmanteau; but he has emptied it of everything +that he could carry away, and left two sovereigns on the table in +payment of his rent and other expenses for the week." + +"He has gone to his daughter!" cried Flossy, starting up. "Why have you +not been to her? I gave you her address." + +"No use, ma'am," said the inspector, shaking his head. "We've been round +there already, and left Mullins to watch the house. But I expect we are +too late. We ought to have known last night. Amateurs in the detective +line are sometimes very clever; but they are not always sharp enough for +our work. The young woman has also disappeared." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Vane's unusual absence from her home had not been without its +results. Little Dick held high carnival all by himself in the +drawing-room and the conservatory; and Enid, feeling herself equally +freed from the restraint usually put upon her, wandered out into the +garden, and found a cool and shady spot where she could establish +herself at ease in a comfortable basket-chair. She did not feel disposed +for exertion; all that she wished to do was to lie still and to keep +silence. The old unpleasant feeling of illness had been growing upon her +more and more during the last few days. She was seldom free from nausea, +and suffered a great deal from faintness and palpitation of the heart. +As she lay back in her cushioned chair, her face looked very small and +white, the blue-veined eyelids singularly heavy. She was sorry to hear +the footsteps of a passer-by resounding on a pathway not far from the +spot which she had chosen; but she hoped that the gardener or caller, +or whoever it might chance to be, would go by without noticing her white +dress between the branches of the tree. But she was doomed to be +disappointed. The footsteps slackened, then turned aside. She was +conscious that some one's hand parted the branches--that some one's eyes +were regarding her; but she was too languid to look up. Let the stranger +think that she was asleep; then surely he would go upon his way and +leave her in peace. + +"Miss Vane," said a deep manly voice that she did not expect to hear, "I +beg your pardon--do I disturb you?" + +Enid opened her heavy eyes. + +"Oh, Mr. Evandale--not at all, thank you!" + +"I was afraid that you were asleep," said the Rector, instantly coming +to her side; "and in that case I should have taken the still greater +liberty of awaking you, for there is a sharp east wind in spite of the +hot sunshine, and to sleep in the shade, as I feared that you were +doing, would be dangerous." + +"Thank you," said Enid gently. + +She sat erect for a minute or two, then gradually sank back amongst her +cushions, as if not equal to the task of maintaining herself upright. +The Rector stood beside her, a look of trouble in his kind frank eyes. + +"Shall I give you my arm back to the house?" he said, after a pause. + +"Oh, no, thank you--I am not ill, Mr. Evandale!" + +"But you are not well--at least, not very strong?" + +"Well--no. No--I suppose that I am not very strong." + +She turned away her head; but, notwithstanding the movement, he saw that +a great tear was gathering underneath the veined eyelid, ready to drop +as soon as ever it had a chance. + +"Miss Vane," said the rector suddenly, "are you in any trouble? Excuse +me for asking; but your face tells its own story. You were happier a +year ago than you are now." + +"Oh, yes," the girl sighed--"much happier!" and then the great tear +fell. + +"Can I do nothing to help you? My mission is to those who are in any +trouble; and, apart from that, I thought once that you looked upon me as +a friend." There was a touch of human emotion in the last words which +seemed to bring him closer to Enid than the earlier sentence could have +done. "But I know you have no need of me," the Rector added sorrowfully; +"you have so many friends." + +"I have not a friend in the world!" the girl broke out; and then she +half hid her face with her transparently thin fingers, and tried to +conceal the fact that she was weeping. + +"Not a friend, Miss Vane?" Mr. Evandale's tone betrayed complete +bewilderment. + +"Whom would you call my friend?" said Enid, almost passionately. "Not a +man like my poor uncle, duped, blinded, deceived by any one who chooses +to cajole him? Not a woman like his wife, who hates me, and wants me out +of the way lest I should claim a share of the estate? Oh, I know what I +am saying--I know too well! I can trust neither of them--for he is weak +and under her control, and she has never been a friend to me or mine. I +do not know what to do or where to go for counsel." + +"I heard a rumor that you were engaged to marry Mr. Hubert Lepel," said +the Rector gravely. "If that be true, he surely should be counted +amongst your friends." + +"A man," said Enid, with bitterness of which he would not have thought +her capable, "who cares for me less than the last new play or the latest +_débutante_ at Her Majesty's! Should I call him a friend?" + +"It is not true then that you are engaged to him?" + +"I thought that I was," said Enid, still very bitterly. "He asked me to +marry him; I thought that he loved me, and I--I consented. But my uncle +has now withdrawn the half consent he gave. I am to be asked again, they +tell me, when I am twenty. I am their chattel--a piece of goods to be +given away and taken back. And then you ask me if I am happy, or if I +call the man who treats me so lightly a friend!" + +"I see--I see. But matters may yet turn out better than you think. Mr. +Lepel is probably only kept back by the General's uncertainty of action. +I can quite conceive that it would put a man into a very awkward +position." + +"I do not think that Hubert cares much," said Enid, with a little +sarcasm in her tone. + +"He must care!" said Evandale impetuously. + +"Why?" the girl asked, suddenly turning her innocent eyes upon him in +some surprise. "Why should he care?" + +The Rector's face glowed. + +"Because he--he must care." The answer was ridiculously inadequate, he +knew, but he had nothing else to say. "How can he help caring when he +sees that you care?--unless he has no more feeling than a log or a block +of stone." He smote his hand angrily against the trunk of a tree beside +him as he spoke. + +Still Enid looked at him with the same expression of amazement. But +little by little his emotion seemed to affect her too--the blush to pass +from his face to her pale cheeks. + +"But--but," she stammered, at length, "you are wrong--in that way--in +the way you think. I do not care." + +"You do not care? For him do you not care?" + +"As a cousin," said Enid faintly--"yes." + +"Not as a lover?" The Rector spoke so low she could hardly hear a word. + +"No." + +"Not as a husband?" + +"No." + +"Then why did you consent to marry him?" + +One question had followed another so naturally that the strangeness of +each had not been felt. But Enid's cheeks were crimson now. + +"Oh, I don't know--don't ask me! I felt miserable, and I thought that he +would be a help to me--and he isn't. I can't talk to him--I can't trust +him--I can't ask him what to do! And we are both bound, and yet we are +not bound; and it is as wretched for him as it is for me--and I don't +know what to do." + +"Could you trust me better than you have trusted him?" said the Rector +hoarsely. + +He knew that he was not acting quite in accordance with what men usually +termed the laws of honor; but it seemed to him that the time had come +for contempt of a merely conventional law. Was Perseus, arriving ere the +sacrifice of Andromeda was completed, to hesitate in rescuing her +because the sea-monster had prior rights, forsooth? Was he--Maurice +Evandale--to stand aside while this gentle delicate creature--the only +woman that he had ever loved--was badgered into an early grave by +cold-hearted kinsmen who wanted to sacrifice her to some family whim? He +would do what he could to save her! There was something imperious in his +heart which would not let him hold his tongue. + +"Trust you? Oh, yes--I could trust you with anything!" said Enid, half +unconscious of the full meaning of her words. + +"Do you understand me?" said Mr. Evandale. He dropped upon one knee +beside her chair, so as to bring his face to a level with hers, and +gently took both her hands between his own as he spoke. "I want you to +trust me with your life--with yourself! Make no mistake this time, Enid. +Could you not only trust me, but care for me? For, if you can, I will do +my best to make you happy." + +"Oh, I don't know!" said Enid. She looked at him as if frightened, then +withdrew her hands from his clasp and put them before her face. "It is +so sudden--I never thought----" + +"You never thought that I loved you? No; I have kept silence because I +thought that you loved another. But, if that is not true, and if you are +only trying to uphold a family arrangement which is painful perhaps to +both of you, why, then, there is nothing to keep me silent! I step in +and offer you a way out of the difficulty. If you can love me, I am +ready to give you my whole life, Enid. I have never in my life loved a +woman as I love you. And I think that you could care for me a little; I +seem to read it in your eyes--your poor tired eyes! Rest on me, my +darling--trust to me--and we will fight through your difficulties +together." + +He had drawn her gently towards him as he spoke. She did not resist; her +head rested on his shoulder, her slender fingers stole again into his +hand; she drew a sigh of perfect well-being and content. This man, at +any rate, she could trust with all her heart. + +"Do you love me a little, Enid?" + +"I think so." + +"You are not yet sure?" + +"I am not sure of anything; I have been so tossed about--so +perplexed--so troubled. I feel as if I could be at rest with you--is +that enough?" + +"For the present. We will wait; and, if you feel more for me, or if you +feel less--whatever happens--you must let me know, and I will be +content." + +"You are very good! But, oh"--with a sudden shrinking movement--"I--I +shall have broken my word!" + +"Yes; I am sorry that you have to do it. But better break your word than +marry a man you do not love." + +"And who does not love me," said Enid, in an exceedingly low tone. + +"Are you really sure of that, Enid?" + +"Indeed--indeed I think so! He is so cold and indifferent, and we never +agree when we talk together--he seems impatient of my ideas. Our tastes +are quite different; I am sure that I should not be happy with him, nor +he with me." + +"You will be brave then, my love, and tell him so?" + +"Yes." But again she shrank from him. "Oh, what shall I do if she--if +Flossy tells me that I must?" + +Mr. Evandale frowned. + +"Are you so much afraid of Mrs. Vane?" + +"Yes," she said timorously--"I am. She--she frightens me! Oh, don't be +angry! I know I am very weak; but indeed I cannot help it!"--and she +burst into despairing tears. + +"My darling, my poor little Enid, I am not angry at all! We will brave +her together, you and I. You shall not be afraid of her any longer; you +will know that I am always near you to protect you--to strengthen you. +And you will trust to me?" + +She tried to answer "Yes;" but her strength suddenly seemed to die away +from her. She slipped from his arm and lay back upon the cushions; a +bluish tinge overspread her lips; her face turned deathly white; she +seemed upon the verge of a swoon. + +Evandale, alarmed as he was, did not lose his presence of mind. +Fortunately he had in his pocket a flask of brandy which he had been +about to carry to a sick parishioner. In a moment he had it uncorked and +was compelling her to swallow a mouthful or two; then he fanned her with +the great black fan which had lain upon her lap; and finally he +remembered that he had seen a great watering-can full of water standing +in the garden path not far away, and found that it had not been removed. +The cold water with which he moistened her lips and brow brought her to +herself; in a few minutes she was able to look up at him and smile, and +presently declared herself quite well. But Evandale was very grave. + +"Are you often faint, Enid?" he asked. + +"Rather often; but this"--with a little tinge of color in her pale +cheeks--"this is just a common kind of faintness--it is not like the +other." + +"I know; but I do not like you to turn faint in this way. May I ask you +a few questions about yourself?" + +"Oh, yes--I know that you are quite a doctor!" said Enid, smiling at him +with perfect confidence. + +So the Rector put his questions--and very strange questions some of them +were, thought Enid, though he was wonderfully correct in guessing what +she felt. Yes, she was nearly always faint and sick; she had a strange +burning sensation sometimes in her chest; she had violent palpitations, +and odd feelings of a terrible fright and depression. But the doctor had +assured her that she had not the faintest trace of organic disease of +the heart; and that these functional disturbances would speedily pass +away. Mr. Ingledew had sounded her and told her that she need not be +alarmed--and of course he was a very clever man. + +"Enid," said the Rector at last, after a long pause, and rather as if he +was trying to make a sort of joke which, after all, was not amusing, "I +am going to ask you what you will think a very foolish question. Have +you an enemy in the house--here, at Beechfield Hall?" + +Enid's eyes dilated with a look of terror. + +"Why--why do you ask?" + +"It is a ridiculous question, is it not? But I thought that perhaps +somebody had been playing on your nerves, and wanting to frighten you +about yourself. Is there anybody who might possibly do so?" + +Her lips parted twice before any articulate word issued from them. At +last he caught the answer-- + +"Only Flossy." + +He was silent for a moment. + +"Do you take any medicine?" he asked, at length. + +"Yes; Mr. Ingledew sent me some." + +"What is it like?" + +"I don't know; it is not disagreeable. Flossy looked at it, and said +that it was a calming mixture." + +"I should like to see the prescription; perhaps it does not quite suit +you. And who gives it to you?" + +"I take it myself; it is kept in my bed-room." + +"And what else do you drink and eat?" said the Rector, smiling. "You +see, I am quite a learned physician. I want to know all about your +habits." + +"Oh, I eat and drink just what other people do." + +"Are you thirsty at night?" + +"Yes--very. How did you guess that? I have orange water or lemonade put +beside me every night, so that I may drink it if I wake up." + +And then Evandale, who was watching her intently, saw that her face +changed as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly recurred to her. + +"What is it, dear?" + +"It was only a dream I have had several times--it troubles me whenever I +think of it; but I know that it is only a dream." + +"Won't you tell me what it was? I should like to hear! Lay your head +back on my shoulder again and tell me about it." + +Enid sighed again, but it was with bliss. + +"Perhaps I shall not dream it if I tell it all to you," she murmured. +"It seems to me sometimes as if--in the middle of the night--I wake up +and see some one in the room--a white figure standing by my bed; and she +is always pouring something into my glass; or sometimes she offers it to +me and makes me drink; and she looks at me as if she hated me; and I--I +am afraid." + +"But who is it, my darling?" + +"I suppose it is nobody, because nobody else sees it but me. I made +Parker sleep with me two or three times; but she said that she saw +nothing, and that she was certain that nobody had come into the room. I +suppose it was a--a ghost!" + +"Nonsense, dearest!" + +"Then it was an optical illusion, and I am going out of my mind," said +Enid despairingly. + +"Was the figure like that of anyone you know?" + +"Yes--Flossy." + +"Mrs. Vane? And you think that she does not like you?" + +"I know that she hates me." + +"My darling, it is simply a nightmare--nothing more." But he felt her +trembling in his arms. + +"It is more than a nightmare, I am sure. You know that people used to +say that I might go out of my mind if those terrible seizures attacked +me? I have not had so many of them lately; but I feel weaker than ever I +did--I feel as if I were going to die. Perhaps it would be better if I +were to die, and then I should not be a trouble and a care to anybody. +And it would be better to die than to go mad, would it not?" + +"Enid," said the Rector very gravely, "I believe that your malady is +entirely one of the nerves, and that it can be controlled. You must try +to believe, my darling, that you could conquer it if you tried. When you +feel the approach of one of these seizures, as you call them, resolve +that you will not give way. By a determined effort I think that it is +possible for you to ward them off. Will you try, for my sake?" + +"I will try," said Enid wearily; "but I am afraid that trying will be +useless." + +"And another thing--I do not believe that Mr. Ingledew is giving you the +right kind of medicine. I want you quietly to stop taking it for a week, +and to stop drinking lemonade or orange-water at night. In a week's time +let us see how you feel. If you are no better, I will talk to Ingledew +myself. Will you promise me that? Say, 'Yes, Maurice.'" + +"Yes, Maurice--I promise you." + +"And one more thing, my own dearest. When that nightmare attacks you +again, try to conquer your fear of it. Do not lie still; rise up and see +what it really is. You may find that your dreamy state has misled you, +and that what you took for a threatening figure is merely that of a +servant, who has had orders to come and see whether you were sleeping or +not. Nightmares often resolve themselves into very harmless things. And +of the supernatural I do not think that you need be alarmed; God is +always near you--He will not suffer you to be frightened by phantoms of +the night. Remember when you wake that I shall be thinking of +you--praying for you. I am often up very late, and I do not sleep +heavily. I shall probably be awake thinking of you, or I may be praying +for you, darling, in my very dreams. Will you think of that and try to +be brave?" + +"I feel braver now," said the girl simply. "Yes, Maurice, I will do all +you ask. I do not think that I shall feel afraid again." + +He left her soon afterwards, and returned on the following morning, to +hear, not with surprise, that she had slept better, that she had had no +nightmare, and that she suffered less from nausea and faintness than +usual. Mrs. Vane was away for a second night, and he had time to see +Enid again before her return. She had not touched her medicine-bottles, +and there was again a slight but marked improvement in her condition. +Mr. Evandale induced her to fetch one of the bottles of Mr. Ingledew's +mixture, which he put into his pocket and conveyed it to his own home. +Here he smelt, tasted, and to some extent analysed it. The result was +such as to plunge him for a short time into deep and troubled thought. + +"I expected it," he said at last, with an impatient sigh. "The symptoms +were those of digitalis-poisoning. There is not enough in this +concoction to do her much harm however. It is given to her in some other +form--in that lemonade at night perhaps. Well, I shall soon see whether +my suspicions are correct when Mrs. Vane comes home." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Cynthia, unconscious of the plots of which she was at present the +innocent centre, was meanwhile contending with a sensation of profound +discouragement, mental and physical. She had a severe headache, and was +deeply depressed in spirits. She had lain awake almost entirely for two +nights trying to reconcile her ideal of Hubert with the few words that +had escaped him--words which surely pointed to a darker knowledge, a +deadlier guilt than any which her love could of itself have attributed +to him. Had he known then all the time that her father was not a +murderer? Was her father's theory correct? Had he been screening his +sister at the poor working-man's expense? Cynthia's blood ran cold at +the thought, for, in that case, what side was she to take? She could not +abandon her father--she might abandon Hubert; but, strange mystery of a +woman's heart, she could not love him less. What she could do she knew +not. For Enid's sake indeed she had set him free; but in the hour of her +anguish she questioned her right to do so; for surely, if he knew more +of the manner of Sydney Vane's death than the world knew, there was even +a greater barrier between him and Enid than between him and Cynthia +herself. Enid would give him up--Cynthia felt sure of that; and, if she +gave him up too, he would be indeed alone. The world might say that he +deserved his loneliness; but she could not take the world's view. To her +the man that she loved was sacred; his faults were to be screened, his +crimes forgiven. Whatever he did, she could never cease to love him. So +she said to herself; but, after all, her hour of trial had not come; she +did not know as yet all that Hubert Lepel had done. + +She had seen Hubert leave her with a sensation of the deepest dismay. +She felt that a crisis had come and gone, and that in some way she had +failed to turn it to the best account. In spite of her expressed resolve +to see Hubert no more, she was disappointed that he did not return to +her. She expected to see him on the following day--to remark his face at +a concert where she was to sing on the Wednesday evening. He had left +her on a Tuesday; she was sure that she would get a letter from him on +Thursday. But Thursday was almost over, and she had neither seen nor +heard from him. Had he resolved to give her up? Was he ill? Why had she +not heard a word from him since Tuesday? She racked her brain to +discover a cause for his silence other than her own wild appeal to him; +for she did not believe that that alone would suffice to keep him away. +But it was all of no avail. + +Another source of anxiety for her lay in the fact that she had also not +heard from her father since Tuesday morning. She did not know whether he +had left Mrs. Gunn's house or not, and did not like to risk the sending +of a letter. That he trusted far too much to his disguise Cynthia was +well aware. His rashness made her sometimes quiver all over with +positive fright when she thought of it. He was running a terrible +risk--and for what cause? At first, simply because he wanted to see his +daughter; now because he fancied that he had found a clue to the +murderer of Sydney Vane--a slight, faint, elusive clue, but one which +seemed to him worth following up. And Cynthia, who at first had +hesitated to leave England, would now have been glad to start with him +at once, if only she could get him away. She began to fear that he would +stay at any risk. + +"You are losing your beauty, child," Madame della Scala had +discontentedly said to her that morning at breakfast-time; "you have +grown ten years older in the last week. And it is the height of the +season, and you have dozens of engagements! To-night, now, you sing at +Lady Beauclerc's--do you not?" + +"Yes, Madame; but I shall be all right by that time. I have a headache +this morning." + +"You are too white, child, and your eyes are heavy. It does not suit +your style to be colorless. You had better get my maid to attend to you, +before you go out to-night. She is incomparable at complexions." + +"Thank you--I shall not need rouge when I begin to sing," said Cynthia, +laughing rather joylessly; "the color will come of itself." + +"I know one who always used to bring it," said Madame, casting a sharp +glance at the girl's pale face. "He had it in his pocket, I suppose, or +at the tips of his fingers--and I never saw it fail with you. Where is +the magician gone, Cynthia _mia_? Where is Mr. Lepel--_ce bel homme_ who +brought the rouge in his pocket? Why, the very mention of his name does +wonders! The beautiful red color is back again now!" + +"I do not know where Mr. Lepel is," said Cynthia, wishing heartily that +her cheeks would not betray her. + +"You have not quarrelled?" + +"I do not know, Madame." + +"Ah, then, you have! But you are a very silly child, and ought to know +better after all that you have gone through. Quarrelling with Mr. Lepel +means quarrelling with your bread-and-butter, as you English people term +it. Why not keep on good terms with him until your training, at any +rate, is complete?" + +Cynthia raised her dark eyes, with a new light in them. + +"I am to be friendly with him as long as I need his help? Is that it, +Madame? I do not quite agree with you; and I think the time has come +when I must be independent now." + +"Independent! What can you do?" said Madame, throwing up her hands. "A +baby like you--with that face and that voice! You want very careful +guarding, my dear, or you will spoil your career. You must not think of +independence for the next ten years." + +Cynthia meditated a little. She did not want to tell Madame della +Scala, who was a confirmed chatterer, that she thought of going to +America; and yet, knowing that her departure would probably be sudden +and secret, she did not want to omit the opportunity of saying a few +necessary words. + +"If I took any steps of which you did not approve, dear Madame, I hope +that you would forgive me and believe that I was truly grateful to you +for all your kindness to me." + +"What does that mean?" said Madame shrewdly. "Are you going to be +married, _cara mia_? Is an elopement in store for us? _Dio mio_, there +will be a fine fuss about it in the newspapers if you do anything +extraordinary! You are becoming the fashion, my dear, as they say in +England; and, when you are the fashion, your success is assured." + +"I am not going to do anything extraordinary," said Cynthia, forcing a +smile, "and I do not mean to elope with anybody, dear Madame; I only +wanted to thank you for all that you have done for me. And now I must +practise for the evening. Perhaps music will do my headache good." + +But, even if music benefited her head, it did not raise her spirits. +Each time that the postman's knock vibrated through the house, her heart +beat so violently that she was obliged to pause in her singing until she +had ascertained that no letter had come for her. No letter--no message +from either Hubert or her father--what did this silence mean? + +The day wore on drearily. She would not go out, much to Madame's +vexation; she practised, she tried to read, she looked at her +dresses--she tried all the usual feminine arts for passing time, going +so far even as to take up some needlework, which she generally detested; +but, in spite of all, the day was cruelly long and blank. She dined +early in the afternoon, as she was going to sing that evening; and it +was about seven o'clock that she resolved to go and dress for the party +to which she was bound, saying to herself that all hope was over for +that day--that she was not likely to hear from Hubert Lepel that night. + +Just as she was going up-stairs a knock came to the door. She lingered +on the landing, wondering whether any visitor had come for her; and it +was with a great leap of the heart that she heard her own name +mentioned, and saw the maid running up the stairs to overtake her +before she reached her room. + +"It's Jenkins--Mr. Lepel's man, miss," said Mary breathlessly; "and he +wants to know if he can speak to you for a moment." + +Cynthia was half-way down-stairs before the sentence was out of the +girl's mouth. Jenkins was standing in the hall. He was an +amiable-looking fellow, and, although he had spoken flippantly enough to +Sabina Meldreth of his master's friendship for Miss West, he had a +genuine admiration for her. Cynthia had won his heart by kindly words +and looks; she had found out that he had a wife and some young children, +and had made them presents, and visited the new baby in her own +inimitably frank, gracious, friendly way; and Jenkins was secretly of +opinion that his master could not do better than marry Miss Cynthia +West, although she was but a singer after all. He spoke to her with an +air of great deference. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I thought that I'd better come and tell +you about Mr. Lepel." + +"Have you a message--a note?" cried Cynthia eagerly. + +"No, ma'am. Mr. Lepel's not able to write, nor to send messages. Mr. +Lepel's ill in bed, ma'am, and the doctor's afraid that it is +brain-fever." + +Cynthia gasped a little. + +"I thought he--he must be ill," she said, rather to herself than to +Jenkins, who however heard, and was struck with sympathetic emotion +immediately. + +"I thought you'd think so, ma'am; and therefore I made so bold as to +look round," he said respectfully. "He's not been himself, so to speak, +for the last few days; and when his sister--Mrs. Vane--was up from +Beechfield to see him, he seemed took worse; and Mrs. Vane she sent me +for a doctor." + +"Is Mrs. Vane with him now, then?" Cynthia asked quickly. + +"No, ma'am. She did not stop long; but I expect that she'll be round +either to-night or to-morrow morning." + +"And is Mr. Lepel to have nobody to nurse him?" asked Cynthia +indignantly. + +"There's my wife, ma'am, who is used to nursing; and, if my master is +worse, a trained nurse can be sent for. I thought you would like to +know, ma'am. I've been talking to the landlady, and she's quite +agreeable for my wife to come on for a bit and help to wait on Mr. +Lepel. She's there now." + +"I am very much obliged to you for coming, Jenkins." + +"I thought, ma'am," continued Jenkins, "that, if ever you was passing +that way, you might like to look in maybe to ask after Mr. Lepel, you +know. If you was good enough always to ask for my wife, you see, ma'am, +she could tell you how my master was, or any news about him." + +Cynthia grasped the situation at once, and felt her face flush as she +listened to the man's awkward kindly words. Evidently Jenkins knew that +she was unacquainted with Mr. Lepel's family, and was trying to save her +from the unpleasantness of meeting any of them unexpectedly. The thought +gave her a moment's bitter humiliation; then she saw the kindliness of +the motive and felt a throb of gratitude. + +"It is very good of you to tell me that, Jenkins," she said, frankly +putting out her hand to him, "and I am very much obliged to you. I shall +come to-morrow; it is impossible for me to come to-night." + +Jenkins was not accustomed to have his hand shaken by those whom he +served, and Cynthia's action embarrassed him considerably. He was glad +when she went on to ask a question. + +"Do you think that Mr. Lepel is very--very ill?" There was a pathetic +tremor in her voice. + +"Well, ma'am, he don't know nothing; he lies there and talks to +himself--that's all." + +"He is unconscious! Oh!" cried Cynthia, as if the words had given her a +stab of pain. "Does he talk about any one--anything?" she asked +wistfully. + +"We can't tell much of what he says, ma'am. But I think he was mainly +anxious to see you. He kep' on sending messages to you; and that's +partly why I come round this evening." + +Cynthia wrung her hands. + +"And I can't go--at least to-night; and I must--I must!" + +"Don't you take on, ma'am," said Jenkins, evidently much moved by her +distress. "I wouldn't trouble about to-night if I was you. Mrs. Vane may +be there again, or the General, and a host o' folks. It would only +bother them, and do my master no good, if you went to-night. To-morrow +morning'll be the time. And now I must be going; for I could only get +away while my wife was there, and she wanted to get back to the children +by nine o'clock." + +So Jenkins took his leave, and Cynthia went up to her room to dress for +her party. + +What a mockery it seemed to her to don her pretty frock, her ornaments, +her flowers--to see herself a radiant vision of youth and loveliness in +her mirror--while all the time her heart was bleeding for her lover's +suffering, and he lay tossing upon a bed of sickness, calling vainly +upon her name! If she could have done as she liked, she would have +relinquished all her engagements and sought his bedside at once. +But--fortunately perhaps--she was bound, for many reasons, to sing at +Lady Beauclerc's party. Madame della Scala and others would be injured +in reputation, if not in pocket, should she fail to appear. And, +although she would not mind sacrificing her own interests, she could not +sacrifice those of her friends even for the sake of her love. + +She was said never to have looked so brilliant or sung so magnificently +before. There was a new strange touch of pathos in her eyes and +voice--something that stirred the hearts of those who heard. The new +vibration in her voice was put down to genius by her audience, and not +by any means to emotion. + +"That girl will equal Patti if she goes on like this," said one musical +amateur to another that evening. + +"But she won't go on like this," his friend replied. "She'll marry, or +break down, or something; she won't last; she won't be tied down to a +professional life--that's my prophecy. She'll bolt!" + +The amateur laughed him to scorn. But he had reason to alter his tone +when some years later his friend reminded him of his prediction, and +coupled it with the information that Cynthia West's last appearance as a +singer had been at Lady Beauclerc's party. She never sang in public +again. + +But she had no idea, during the evening in question, that it was +absolutely her last appearance. Her mind had never been so much set on a +professional career as it was just then. She meant to go to America +with her father certainly, but to take engagements as a vocalist in the +States. That she was at all likely to cease work so suddenly and so soon +never once occurred to her. + +She was glad when the evening was over--glad to get back to her own +quiet room, and to lay certain plans for the morrow. She would go to +Hubert in the morning--not to stay of course, but to see whether he was +well nursed and tended; and she would take with her the ornaments that +he had presented to her, and which she had meant to give back. She would +get Mrs. Jenkins to put them away for her in some safe drawer or box; +and, when he was better, he would find them and understand. She would +accept nothing more from his hands. Yet, with all her pride and her +sense of injured dignity, she wept half the night at the thought that he +was suffering and that she could do nothing to alleviate his pain. + +She set off the next morning, between nine and ten o'clock, with a +little black bag in her hand. It was larger than she needed it to be for +mere conveyance of the jewelry which she wanted to restore; but she +meant to fill it with fruit--black tempting grapes and red-cheeked +hot-house peaches--for the invalid before she reached the house. She +left word with Mary that she did not know when she would return, and +that Madame was not to wait luncheon or dinner on her account. This +message, and the fact of her carrying away a bag, led some persons to +believe that she was acting a part in a long-premeditated scheme when +she left Madame della Scala's house that morning. But no scheme was +present in any shape or form to Cynthia's mind. + +She did not at once see a hansom, and therefore she walked for a few +yards along the broad pavement of the Bayswater Road, where at that hour +not many passers-by were to be encountered. And here, to her great +surprise, she met her father--but a father so changed, so utterly +transformed in appearance, that she would not have known him but for his +voice. He wore an overcoat that she had never seen before, and a tall +hat; he had got rid of the white hair and beard, and had even shaved off +his whiskers; he remained a lean, brown-faced, resolute-looking man, +more refined, but decidedly more commonplace, than he had been before. +This man would pass easily in a crowd; people used to stop and gaze +after Reuben Dare. + +"Oh, I am so thankful--so glad!" cried Cynthia, when the meaning of the +change burst upon her. "Nobody would recognise you now, father; your own +face is a greater disguise than any amount of snowy hair. What made you +alter yourself in this way?" + +"Cynthia," said her father, drawing her into a quiet little side-street, +and speaking in low earnest tones, "I have been a great fool! I wish I +had taken your advice earlier. That woman Meldreth suspects me. For +aught I know, I am already watched and followed. There is not a moment +to lose. If I mean to escape, I'd better get out of the country as fast +as I can--or find some snug corner where I can lie close until they have +left off looking for me. There is a cab--a four-wheeler. Let us get into +that, and we can talk as we go. I don't see any one who appears to be +dogging me at present. Where were you going?" + +"I will go wherever you go, father," said Cynthia. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +Westwood was silent until he found himself with his daughter inside the +cab. + +"Where did you tell him to go?" he then asked of her. + +"To St. Pancras Station. I thought that we could more easily evade +watchers at a big railway-station than anywhere else." + +"They will watch the stations," said the man. "I may have got the start, +and I may not. The stations are hardly safe." + +"Let the man drive on for a few minutes while you tell me the reason why +you think you are watched," said Cynthia, suspecting panic; "he cannot +be going far out of the way, and, if we change our minds we can tell him +so presently." + +"Well," said Westwood, evidently recovering nerve and self-possession +under the influence of his daughter's calmer manner and speaking in an +easier tone, "it's that woman Meldreth--she is a spy. Who do you think +came to her house yesterday but Mrs. Vane? The very woman who has most +reason to dread me and to wish to get me shut up in prison, if my idea +of her is true! I think she wanted to see me with her own eyes. She +looked at me as if she would read me through and through." + +"Where did you meet her, father?" + +"In the street. I was asked to show her Mrs. Gunn's house. It was pure +accident of course, but it gave us an opportunity of looking at each +other." + +"Did you go back to the house after that?" + +"Yes, I did, my girl, because I had left my portmanteau there with +papers and money, without which I should soon be in 'Queer Street.' Yes, +I went back, and found Mrs. Vane gone. But the Meldreth woman had a +queer look about her, and I suspected what she was about, though I don't +know that I could have balked her but for my peculiar constitution. +Sleeping-stuff don't have no effect on me, my dear--it never had. They +tried it in the prison when I was there at first, and couldn't sleep for +thinking of the woods and the open fields and my own little girl--and it +nearly drove me mad. Sabina Meldreth gave me some sleeping-stuff in my +tea last night." + +"What for, father?" + +"That's what I wanted to know. When I felt the old pricks and twitches +beginning, I pretended to be very sleepy, and I lay down on the sofa and +went off, as she thought, into a deep slumber. Presently she came in, +and--what do you think, Cynthy?--she began to examine my hair and beard! +Of course she soon saw that it would come off; and then she laughed a +little to herself. 'Twenty pounds for this job,' she said--'and more +perhaps afterwards. I wonder what Mrs. Vane's up to now? I'll be off to +her first thing to-morrow morning. It's somebody she's got a spite +against, I'll be bound!' And then she went away and left me alone, +having done her work." + +"So then you came away?" + +"Not immediate, my girl. I was off at five o'clock this morning. I got +shaved at a little place in Gray's Inn Road--after disposing of my wig +and beard elsewhere, you know; and I bought this rig-out at two +different places in Holborn. Then I breakfasted at a coffee-stall and +came on here. They'll only just have found out that I've gone by now--if +indeed so soon--unless they have found it out accidental-like." + +"The woman--Meldreth is her name?--would not know what to do without +consulting Mrs. Vane first, would she?" + +"No. But then we don't know where Mrs. Vane is--she may have been in the +house all the time for aught we know." + +"I think not," said Cynthia decisively. "She would have come herself to +look at you when Miss Meldreth was examining your hair if she had been +in the house." + +"Well, perhaps she would. You've got a head on your shoulders, +Cynthia--that you have! Miss Meldreth would have to get to Mrs. Vane and +tell her this morning, as she said; then Mrs. Vane would let the police +know. That gives us till about eleven or twelve o'clock." + +"Two hours' start. Is not that sufficient?" + +Westwood shook his head. + +"The first thing they will do is to telegraph to all the ports." + +"But you look so different now, father! And I can make myself look quite +different too." + +"You! Why, you don't suppose I am going to let you come with me?" + +"Oh, yes, father dear, I cannot leave you now!" + +"It would be madness, Cynthia. You are well known, and you would be too +easily recognised. Everybody turns to look at a handsome girl like you." + +"If you can disguise yourself, so can I." + +"We have not time for that. Besides, why do you want to leave England so +soon and so suddenly?" + +"Oh, I don't--I don't!" said Cynthia, suddenly trembling and clinging to +him. "Only I can't bear the idea of your being without me now when you +are in danger." + +"I can send for you, my lass, when I am safe. You will come then?" + +"Yes, father." + +"You'll come straight, without waiting for any good-byes or to tell any +one where you are going?" + +"Yes, father--unless----" + +"Well? Unless what?" + +"Father, Mr. Lepel is very ill. They say that he has brain-fever. If he +were dying, you would let me wait to say good-bye to him?" + +She had put her hand through his arm, and was leaning against his +shoulder. Her father looked at her sideways, with a rough pity mingled +with admiration. + +"Were you going to him now, Cynthia?" + +"Yes, father." + +"I've interrupted you. It's hard on you to have a father like me +although he is an innocent man." + +"I honor my father and I love him," was Cynthia's swift response. "My +greatest grief is that he cannot be near me always." + +There was a silence; the cab had quitted the smoother roads and entered +on a course of rattling stones. It was difficult to speak so as to be +heard; but Westwood raised his voice. + +"Cynthia!" + +"Yes, father." + +"It seems to me that you need watching over as much as ever you did when +you was a little baby-girl. I don't see why you should be abandoned in +your need any more than you're willing to abandon me. If I can be any +sort of help to you, I won't try to leave London at all. I can hide away +somewhere no doubt as other folks have done. There are places at the +East-end where no one would notice me. Shall I stay, Cynthia?" + +"Dear father! No, you will be no help to me--no comfort--if you are in +danger!" + +He put his arm round her and pressed her close to him; but he did not +speak again until they reached the station. The streets were noisy, and +conversation was well-nigh impossible. When they got out, Cynthia paid +the cabman and dismissed him. Her father walked forward, glancing round +him suspiciously as he went. It was a quarter to eleven o'clock. Cynthia +joined him in a dark corner of the great entrance-hall. + +"I will take your ticket," she said, "where will you go?" + +Westwood hesitated for a moment. + +"It's not safe, Cynthia. I will not go at all. I should only be arrested +at the other end; I am sure of it. I'll tell you what we will do. You +may go and take a ticket for Liverpool and bring it to me--in full view +of that policeman there, who is eyeing us so suspiciously. Then you must +say 'good-bye' and walk straight out of the station. I will mingle with +the crowd on the platform; but I will not go by train--I'll slip +eastward and lose myself in Whitechapel. I've made up my mind--I don't +start for Liverpool to-day." + +"Perhaps you are right," said Cynthia, in a faltering voice. "But how +shall I know where you are?" + +"Better for you not to know, my dear. I shall put them off the scent in +this way, and you will have no idea of what has become of me. Now get my +ticket and say good-bye--as affectionate and as public as you like. It +will all tell in the long run; that bobby has his eye on us." + +Cynthia did as she was desired. Her father kissed her pale, agitated +face several times, and made his adieux rather unnecessarily +conspicuous. Then Cynthia left the station, and her father made his way +to the platform, where he mingled with the crowd, and finally got away +by another door, and turned his face towards the illimitable east of +London. + +Cynthia did not take a cab again. It was a relief to her to walk, and +she was in a neighborhood that she knew very well. She turned into +Euston Square, then down Woburn Place, and through Tavistock Square to +Russell Square. She could not stay away from Hubert any longer. + +She knew the house--it was the place to which she had come one autumn +day when Mr. Lepel wanted to hear her sing. She had never been there +since. The square looked strangely different to her; the trees in the +garden, in spite of their green livery, gave no beauty to the scene. It +was as cheerless and as dark as it had been on the cold autumnal morning +when she had gone to learn her fate from the critic's lips; and yet the +sun was shining now, and the sky overhead was blue. But Cynthia's heart +was sadder than it had been in the days of her friendlessness and +poverty. + +She rang the bell and asked for Mrs. Jenkins, who appeared almost at +once and led the girl into Hubert's deserted sitting-room. + +"Oh, miss, I'm so glad you have come!" she said. "For we can't get Mr. +Lepel to be quiet at all, and we were just on the point of sending off +for you, because he calls for you constant, and the doctor, he says, +'could you get the lady that he talks about to come and sit beside him +for a little time? That might calm him,' he says; 'and if we calm him, +we may save his life.'" + +"Oh, is he so ill as that?" cried Cynthia. + +"He couldn't be much worse, miss, the doctor says. Can you stay, miss, +now you're here? Just for an hour or two at any rate!" + +"I can stay as long as I can be of any use," said the girl desperately. +"Nobody wants me--nobody will ask for me; it is better for me to be +here." + +The words fell unheeded on Mrs. Jenkins' ears. All that she cared about +was the welfare of her husband's employer. Both Jenkins and his wife +adored Mr. Lepel, and the thought that he might die in his illness had +been agony to them--and not on their own account alone. They genuinely +believed in Miss West's power of soothing and calming him, and Mrs. +Jenkins could not do enough for the girl's comfort. + +"You'll take off your things here, miss, will you not? And then I'll +take you to Mr. Lepel's own room. But wouldn't you like a glass of wine +or a cup of tea or something before you go in? You look terrible tired +and harassed like, miss; and what you are going to see isn't exactly +what will do you good. Poor Mr. Lepel he do look dreadful--and that's +the long and the short of it!" + +"I don't want anything, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins," said Cynthia, faintly +smiling; "and I should like to go to Mr. Lepel at once." + +"Have you ever seen anything of sick people, miss, or done any nursing?" + +"Never, Mrs. Jenkins." + +"Don't be too frightened then, miss, when you first see Mr. Lepel. +People with fevers often look worse than they really are." + +Cynthia set her lips; if she was frightened, she would not show it, she +resolved. + +Then, after some slight delay, she was admitted to Hubert's room; and +there, in spite of her resolution, at first she stood aghast. + +It startled her to perceive that, although she knew his face so well, +she might not have recognised it in an unaccustomed place. It was +discolored, and the eyes were bloodshot and wandering; the hair had been +partially cut away from his head, and the stubble of an unshaven beard +showed itself on cheeks and chin. Any romance that might have existed in +the mind of a girl of twenty concerning her lover's illness was struck +dead at once and forever. He was ill--terribly ill and delirious; he +looked at her with a madman's eyes, and his face was utterly changed; +his voice too, as he raised it in the constant stream of incoherent talk +that escaped his lips, was hoarse and rasping and unnatural. Anything +less interesting, less attractive to a weak soul than this delirious +fever-stricken man could not well be imagined; but Cynthia's soul was +anything but weak. + +She was conscious that never in her life had she loved Hubert Lepel so +intensely, so devotedly as she loved him now. Something of the maternal +instinct awakened within her at the sight of his great need. He had no +one to minister to his more subtle wants--no one to tend him out of pure +love and sympathy. The man Jenkins, who sat beside the bed, ready to +hold him down if in his delirium he should attempt to throw himself out +of the window, was awkward and uncouth in a sick-room. Mrs. Jenkins, +although ready and willing to help, was longing to steal away to her +little children at home. The landlady down-stairs had announced that she +could not possibly undertake to wait upon an invalid. All these facts +became clear to Cynthia in a very little time. She saw, as soon as she +entered the room, that the window-blind was awry and the curtains were +wrongly hung, that the table and the chest of drawers were crowded with +an untidy array of bottles, cups and glasses, and that the whole aspect +of the place was desolate. This fact did not concern her at present +however; her attention was given wholly and at once to the sick man. + +She stood for a minute or two at the foot of the bed, realising with a +pang the fact that he did not know her. His eyes rested upon her as he +spoke; but there was no recognition in them. She could not hear all he +said; but, between strings of incoherent words and unintelligible +phrases, some sentences caught her ear. + +"She will not come," said the sick man--"she has given me up entirely! +Quite right too! The world would say that she was perfectly right. And I +am in the wrong--always--I have always been wrong; and there is no way +out of it. Some one said that to me once--no way out of it--no way out +of it--no way out of it--oh, Heaven!" + +The sentence ended with a moan of agony which made Cynthia writhe with +pain. + +"He's always saying that," Jenkins whispered to her--"'No way out of +it!' He keeps coming back to that as if--as if there was something on +his mind." + +Cynthia raised her hand to silence him. The torrent of words broke out +again. + +"It was not all my fault. It was Flossy's fault; but one cannot betray a +woman, one's sister--can one? Even she would say that. But she has gone +away, and she will never come back again. Cynthia--Cynthia! I might call +as long as I pleased--she would never come. Why don't you fetch her, +some of you? So many people here, and nobody will bring Cynthia to me! +Cynthia, Cynthia, my love!" + +"I am here, dear--I am here, beside you," said Cynthia. + +But he did not seem to understand. She touched his hot hand with her +own, and smoothed his fevered brow. The restless tongue went on. + +"She has given me up, and I shall never see her any more! She gave me +too hard a task; I could not do it--not all at once. It is done now. +Yes, I have done it, and it has divided us for ever. Why did you make me +speak, Cynthia? He was not miserable--he was happy. But I am to be +miserable for ever and ever now. There is no way out of the misery--no +way out of it--darkness and loneliness all my life, and worse +afterwards. Cynthia, Cynthia, you are sending me to perdition!" + +He half rose from his bed, and made as if he would struggle with her. +Jenkins came to the rescue; but Cynthia would not move aside. + +"Lie down, dearest," she was saying--"lie down and rest. Cynthia is +here--Cynthia is with you; she will never leave you any more unless you +send her away. Lie down, my darling, and try to rest." + +He did not understand the words; but the sweet rhythm of her voice +caught his ear. He fell back upon the pillows, staring, helpless, +subdued. She kept her cool hand upon his brow. + +"Is that Cynthia?" he said suddenly. + +"Yes, dearest, it is Cynthia." + +"How kind of her to come!" said Hubert, looking away from the girl as if +Cynthia were on the other side of the room. "But she should not look so +angrily at me. I have done what I could, you know. It is all right now, +Cynthia, I have done what I could--I have saved him--indeed I have! +I'll take the punishment--no way out of it but that! A life sentence--a +life sentence for me!" + +The words died away upon his lips in a confused babble that they could +not understand. He murmured inarticulately for a time, but there came +long pauses between the words, his eyelids drooped a little, and he grew +perceptibly less flushed. In about half an hour the doctor came into the +room. He cast a swift look at Cynthia, and another at his patient; then +he nodded sagaciously. + +"Better," he said curtly. "I thought so. Some more ice, Jenkins. He has +been quieter since you came, I conclude, madam?" + +Cynthia bowed her head. + +"You are the lady for whom he has been asking so often? I know your +face--Miss Cynthia West, I believe? Can you stay?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, without hesitation. + +"If you keep him as quiet as that, you will save his life," said the +doctor; and then he beckoned Jenkins out of the sick-room, and gave him +various stringent orders and recommendations--to all which Jenkins lent +an attentive if a somewhat puzzled ear. + +The doctor looked in again before he went away. Mr. Lepel was lying back +on his pillows, perfectly motionless and silent; Miss West, kneeling +beside the bed, still kept one hand on his, while with the other she put +cooling applications to his head or merely laid her hand upon his +forehead. As long as she was touching him the patient seemed perfectly +content. And again the doctor nodded--and this time he also smiled. + +So passed the hours of that long summer day. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +When the light was fading a little, there was a new sound in Hubert +Lepel's sick-room--the rustle of a silk dress, the tripping of little +high-heeled shoes across the floor. Cynthia looked round hastily, ready +to hush the intruder; for Hubert was much quieter than he had been, and +only murmured incoherent sentences from time to time. A fresh outburst +of delirium was of all things to be warded off if possible, and there +was a faint hope that he might sleep. If he slept, his life, humanly +speaking, was saved. But it was hardly likely that sleep would come so +soon. + +Cynthia looked round, prepared to rebuke the new-comer--for she had +taken upon herself all the authority of nurse and queen-regent in the +sick man's room; but her eyes fell upon a stranger whose face was yet +not altogether unknown to her. She had seen it years before in the +Beechfield lanes; she remembered it vaguely without knowing to whom it +belonged. In her earlier years at school that face had stood in her +imagination as the type of all that was cold and cruel and fair in +ancient song or story, fable or legend. It had figured as Medusa--as +Circe; the wonderful wicked woman of the Middle Ages had come to her in +visions with just such subtle eyes, such languorous beauty, such fair +white skin and yellow hair; the witch-woman of her weirdest dream had +had the look of Florence Lepel; just as Hubert's far different features, +with the dark melancholy expression of suffering stamped upon them, had +stood for her as those of Fouqué's ideal knights, or of Sintram riding +through the dark valley, of Lancelot sinning and repenting, of saint, +hero, martyr, paladin, in turn, until she grew old enough to banish such +foolish dreams. She had been a strangely imaginative child; and these +two faces seemed to have haunted her all her life. That of her hero lay +beside her, stricken with illness, fevered, insensible; that of the evil +woman--for this Cynthia instinctively believed Florence Vane to +be--confronted her with a strange, mocking, malignant smile. + +Cynthia put up her hand. + +"Hush!" she said quietly. "He is not to be disturbed." + +"Are you the nurse?" said Mrs. Vane's cool light voice. + +"I am a friend," replied Cynthia quietly. "If you wish to talk to me, I +will come into the other room." + +"Upon my word, you take things very calmly!" said Florence. "I really +never dreamt---- It is a most embarrassing situation!" + +But she did not look embarrassed in the least; neither did Cynthia. + +A heavier step on the boards now made itself heard, and the General's +face, ruddy and framed in venerable gray hairs, pressed forward over his +wife's shoulder. + +"Oh, dear--oh, dear--this is very bad!" he grumbled, either to himself +or to Flossy. "Poor lad--poor lad! He looks very ill--he does indeed!" + +Flossy came closer to the bed. As soon as she drew near, her brother +seemed to grow uneasy; he began to turn his head from side to side, to +move his hands, and to mutter incoherent words. + +"You disturb him," said Cynthia, looking at Mrs. Vane. "The Doctor says +that he must be kept perfectly quiet. Will you kindly go into the other +room, and, if you want me, I will come to you." + +"We are not particularly likely to want you, young woman," said Florence +coldly. "If you are not a qualified nurse, I do not see why you should +try to turn Mr. Lepel's own sister out of the room. It is your place to +go--not mine." + +For all answer, Cynthia turned again to Hubert, and began applying ice +to his fevered head. She seemed absorbed by her task, and took no +further notice of the visitors. For once Flossy felt herself a little +quelled. + +She turned to Mrs. Jenkins, who had followed her into the room. + +"Has not the doctor procured a proper nurse yet for Mr. Lepel?" she +said. + +Mrs. Jenkins fidgeted, and looked at Cynthia. + +"The young lady," she said at last, "seems to be doing all that is +required, ma'am. The doctor says as we couldn't do better." + +"In that case, my dear," said the pacific General, "I think that we had +better not interfere with existing arrangements. We will go back to the +hotel and inquire again in the morning." + +"Go back to the hotel, and leave that person in possession?" cried +Flossy, with fine and virtuous scorn. "Are you mad, General? I will not +put up with such a thing for a moment! She will go out of this house +before I go!" + +These words reached Cynthia's ears. The girl simply smiled. The smile +said, as plainly as words could have done, that she would not leave +Hubert Lepel's rooms unless she was taken away from them by force. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Jenkins was whispering and explaining, the General was +expostulating, and Flossy waxed apparently more and more irate every +moment. Cynthia, with her hand on Hubert's pulse, felt it growing +faster; his incoherent words were spoken with energy; he was beginning +to raise his head from the pillow and gaze about him with wild excited +eyes. She turned sharply towards the visitors. + +"Go into the other room at once!" she said, with sudden decision. "You +have aroused him already--you have done him harm! Keep silence or go, if +you wish to save his life!" + +The passionate ring of her voice, low though it was, had its effect. The +General stopped short in a sentence; Mrs. Jenkins looked at the bed with +a frightened air; Flossy, with an impatient gesture, walked towards the +sitting-room. But at the door she paused and looked back at Cynthia, +whose eyes were still fixed upon her. What there was in that look +perhaps no one else could see; but it magnetised Cynthia. The girl rose +from her knees, gently withdrew her hand from Hubert's nerveless +fingers, and signed to Mrs. Jenkins to take her place. Then, after +watching for a moment to see that the patient lay quietly and did not +seem distressed by her departure, she followed Mrs. Vane into the other +room. The General hovered about the door, uncertain whether to go or to +remain. + +The two women faced each other silently. They were both beautiful, but +they bore no likeness one to the other. + +There could not have been a more complete contrast than that presented +by Florence Vane and Cynthia Westwood as they confronted each other in +the dim light of Hubert's sitting-room. Cynthia stood erect, looking +very tall and pale in her straight black gown; her large dark eyes were +heavy from fatigue and grief, her lips had taken a pathetic downward +curve, and her dusky hair had been pushed back carelessly from her fine +brow. There was a curious dignity about her--a dignity which seemed to +proceed chiefly from her own absence of self-consciousness, swallowed up +as this had been in the depth of a great sorrow. Opposite to her stood +Florence, self-conscious and alert in every nerve and vein, but hiding +her agitation under an exterior of polished grace and studiedly haughty +courtesy, her fair beauty framed in an admirable setting of exquisite +colors and textures, her whole appearance indescribably dainty and +delicate, like that of some rare Eastern bird which hesitates where to +set its foot in a strange place. + +Thus the two saw each other; and Flossy felt vaguely that Cynthia ought +to be at a disadvantage, but that in some strange and miraculous manner +she was not. Indeed it was Cynthia who took the lead and spoke first. + +"If you wish to speak to me," she said, "I am here; but I cannot leave +Mr. Lepel for long." + +"I have no wish to speak--necessity alone compels me," said Mrs. Vane, +giving the girl a haughty stare from under her half-closed eyelids. "I +am compelled, I fear, to ask you a few questions. I presume that a nurse +is coming?" + +"I think not. The doctor said that he need not send one so long as +Jenkins and I were here." + +"And pray how long do you mean to remain here?" + +"As long as he has need of me." + +"You are under a mistake," said Mrs. Vane loftily. "Mr. Lepel did not +send for you, I believe?" + +"He called for me in his delirium," answered Cynthia, whose eyes were +beginning to be lighted up as if from an inward fire. "He is quiet only +when I am here." + +Flossy laughed derisively. + +"A good reason! Is he not quiet now, with the woman Jenkins at his side? +You will perhaps allow that his relatives--his family--have some right +to attend to him during his illness; and I must really say very +plainly--since you compel me to do so--that I should prefer to see him +nursed by a professional nurse, and not by a young girl whose very +presence here is a scandal to all propriety." + +Cynthia drew herself up to her full height. + +"I think I can scarcely understand you," she said. "I am acting under +the doctor's orders, and am here by his authority. There can be no +scandal in that. When Mr. Lepel is conscious and can spare me, I will +go." + +"Spare you! He will be only too glad to spare you!" cried Mrs. Vane. "I +do not know what your connection with him has been--I do not want to +know"--the insinuation conveyed by her tone and manner was felt by +Cynthia to be in itself an insult; "but this I am fully convinced of, +that my poor brother could not possibly have known that you were the +daughter of that wretched criminal, Andrew Westwood--the man who +murdered Sydney Vane! If he had known that, he would never have wished +to see your face again!" + +She saw the girl wince, as if she had received a cut with a whip, and +for a moment she triumphed. + +The General, who was just inside the room, listening anxiously to the +conversation, now came to her aid. He stepped forward hurriedly, his +face growing crimson, his lower jaw working, his eyes seeming to turn in +his head as he heard the words. + +"What is that? What--this young person the daughter of Westwood the +murderer? Abominable! What business has she here? It is an insult to us +all!" + +Cynthia turned upon him like a wild animal at bay, defiance flashing in +her mournful magnificent dark eyes. + +"My presence insults you less than the words Mrs. Vane has spoken insult +me!" she cried, tossing back her head with the proud stag-like gesture +which Hubert had learned to know so well. "She is more cruel than I ever +thought one woman could be to another! She must know that I have nothing +to reproach myself with--that my life is as pure as hers--purer, if all +one hears is true." She could not deny herself the vengeful taunt, but +was recalled to her better self when she saw Florence blanch under it +and suddenly draw back. "But about myself I do not choose to speak. Of +my father I will say one word--to you, sir, who I am sure will be just +at least to one who craves only for justice--my father, sir, was +innocent of the crime for which he was condemned; and some day his +innocence will be manifested before all eyes. Mr. Lepel knows--he knew +before he was taken ill--that I am Andrew Westwood's daughter. I told +him a few days ago." + +"And he was so much horrified by the news that this illness is the +result. I see now," said Mrs. Vane coolly, "why this break down has +taken place. The poor boy, General, has been so harassed and overcome by +the discovery that his brain has for the time being given way. And yet +this girl pretends that he wants her to remain!" + +"I appeal to the doctor!" said Cynthia, suddenly turning as white as +Florence herself had done. "If he supports me, you will yield to his +decision? If he says that I am not necessary here, I will go. I have no +wish to inflict my presence on those to whom it is unwelcome." + +She glanced proudly from Mrs. Vane to the General. The old man was much +perturbed. He was walking about the room, muttering to himself, his lips +protruding, his brow wrinkled with anger and disgust. + +"Too bad--too bad!" Cynthia heard him say. "Westwood's daughter--nursing +Hubert too! Tut, tut--a bad business this!" + +Cynthia resolved upon a bold stroke--she would address him. + +"Sir," she said, taking a step towards him, "will you listen to me for a +moment? I promise you that I will go if the doctor says that I am not +wanted. You need not fear that I shall force myself upon you. I only ask +you to forgive me the fact of being my father's daughter until Mr. Lepel +is a little stronger--if the doctor says that I must not leave him yet. +When he is better, I vow--I swear that you shall see and hear no more of +me! I shall leave the country, and you will never be troubled by me +again. But, till then, have pity! Let me help to nurse him; he has been +my best friend in the whole world, and I have never yet been able to do +anything for him! When he is better, I will go away. Till then, for +pity's sake, sir, let me stay!" + +Her voice broke; she clasped her hands before her and held down her head +to hide her tears. The General, brought to a sudden stop by her appeal +to him, eyed her with a mixture of native pity and long-cultivated +detestation. He could not but be sorry for her, although she was +Westwood's daughter and, by all reports, not much better perhaps than +she should be; for he firmly believed in the truth of all Flossy's +malignant hints and innuendos. But Cynthia was a handsome woman, and the +General was weak; he could not bear to see a handsome woman cry. + +"My good girl," he stammered--and then Flossy's significant smile made +him stammer all the more--"my girl, I--I do not wish to blame +you--personally, of course--not your fault at all--we can't help its +being painful, you know." + +"Painful--yes," cried Cynthia eagerly; "but pain is sometimes necessary! +You will not drive me away from Hubert's bedside if I can be of any use +to him?" + +"No, no--I suppose not," said the General, melting in spite of himself. +"I wouldn't for the world do anything to harm poor Hubert. Suppose we +hear what the doctor says?" + +Cynthia's hand was on the bell immediately, and Jenkins showed himself +at the door without delay. + +"Jenkins," she said, "it is very important that we should have the +doctor here at once. Mrs. Vane--General Vane--want----" + +"Give your own orders, General," said Flossy abruptly. She could not +lose a chance of annoying and insulting Cynthia. + +"H'm, ha--the doctor, my man," said the General, rather taken aback by +the demand upon him--"get us the doctor as soon as you can. Tell +him--tell him that Mr. Lepel's relatives are here, and no doubt he will +come at once." + +There was a little silence in the room when Jenkins had disappeared upon +his errand. The General stood, with his hands clasped behind him, +looking out of a window; Mrs. Vane had sunk into a chair, in which she +lay back, her graceful neck turned aside, as if she wanted to avoid the +sight of Cynthia, who meanwhile stood upon the hearthrug, head bent and +hands folded, waiting gravely and patiently for what she felt to be the +decision on her fate. + +Presently Mrs. Vane moved a little, fixed her cold eyes on the +motionless figure before her, and spoke in tones so low that they did +not reach the General's ears. + +"What have you done with your father?" she asked. + +Cynthia raised her eyes to Mrs. Vane's face for a moment with a flash of +scorn in their lustrous depths. She made no other answer. + +"You need not think," said Florence deliberately, "that I do not know +where he has been until to-day. I know all about him." + +"Yes; you set your spies on him," said Cynthia, in equally low but +bitter tones. "I was aware of that." + +"I know of his movements up to eleven o'clock this morning, and so do +the police," said Mrs. Vane. "He came to you this morning--perhaps by +appointment, perhaps not--how do I know?--and you drove away with him to +St. Pancras Station. There you took his ticket to Liverpool--there you +said good-bye. Why did you not wait to see him off? The answer is easy +to read--because he never went to Liverpool at all. Did you think we +were children like yourself that you could throw dust in our eyes as +easily as that?" + +Cynthia's dilated eyes asked a question that her lips would not utter. +Flossy smiled. + +"You want to know if he has been taken?" she said. "Not yet; but he soon +will be. You should not have been seen with him if you wanted him to +escape. I suppose you were not aware that the relationship was known?" + +No, this certainly Cynthia had not known. + +"You have been the means of identifying him to the police," Mrs. Vane +went on, with the cruel smile still playing about her thin lips; +"otherwise we should hardly have been sure that he had changed his +disguise. I almost wonder that you never thought of that." + +Then Cynthia made a desperate attempt to stem the tide. + +"You are mistaken," she said--Mrs. Vane laughed softly. + +"You had better not try to tell lies about it--it is not your forte. +Brazen it out, as you have done hitherto, and you may succeed. A +detective has been to Madame della Scala's house already, and he will +probably find you out--if you stay here--before long. I am afraid that +you are not a very good hand at keeping a secret; but I have put you on +your guard, and you should thank me." + +"I do not thank you for torturing me," said Cynthia, with a hard dry sob +that seemed to be born of agony. "I would rather face all the police and +the magistrates of London than you! They will have no difficulty about +finding me. If I cannot stay here, I will go back to Madame's house." + +"Which you will find closed to you," said Flossy. "After the story that +she has heard, Madame della Scala refuses to receive you there again. +You seem to think very little of your father's crime, Miss Westwood; but +you will not find society condone it so easily." + +Cynthia's face flushed hotly, but she did not reply. + +"You had better go away," said Mrs. Vane, leaning forward and speaking +almost in a whisper. "Go, and tell no one where you are going--it will +be better for you. The police will be here before very long, and +possibly they may arrest you." + +"I do not think they can do that. No, I shall not hide myself." + +"It would be safer for your father," said Flossy, almost inaudibly. +"Listen--I will make a bargain with you. If you go, I will hide part of +my own knowledge--I will not let the woman Meldreth describe him +accurately--I will help you to put the detectives off the track; and, in +return, you will go away at once--where I care not--and never see Hubert +again. You may save your father then." + +"I will make no bargain with you," said Cynthia solemnly. She looked +straight into the white, subtle face--straight into the velvet-brown +languorous eyes, full now of a secret fear. "You forget that God +protects the innocent and punishes the guilty. I will stay with Hubert; +and God will defend my father and the right." + +"Your father will be hanged yet," said Flossy, turning away restlessly. +It was her only answer to the girl's courageous words. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +A little bustle was heard outside the door; and then the doctor came in. +He was a middle-aged man, tall, spare, thoughtful-looking, a little +abrupt in manner, but with a kindly face. He had not advanced two steps +into the room before he stopped short, held up his hand, and said-- + +"Hallo--what's that?" + +It was the patient's voice again uplifted in snatches of delirious talk. + +"Cynthia!" they distinctly heard him calling. "Where's Cynthia? Tell +Cynthia that she must come!" + +"And why are you not there?" said Doctor Middlemass, darting his finger +in Cynthia's direction. "Why don't you go to him at once? It's madness +to let him cry out like that!" + +Cynthia's look was piteous; but for the moment she did not move. + +"Would it not be better for a qualified nurse to be obtained for my +brother?" said Mrs. Vane. "This young--lady"--a perceptible pause +occurred before the word--"has had no experience in nursing; and it is +surely not necessary----" + +"Oh, doctor," the girl burst out, "must I not stay? I cannot go away +when he calls for me like that!" + +Her hands were strained on her bosom; her eyes had the hungry look of a +mother who hears her child cry aloud and cannot go to him. The doctor +shot a look at her pale tortured face, and observed the cold composure +of the finely-dressed lady in the arm-chair, and the subdued uneasiness +of the old gentleman in the background. He began to suspect a +tragedy--at any rate, a romance. + +"Go to him at once," he said to Cynthia, pointing to the bed-room door, +"and keep him quiet at any cost. A trained nurse would not do him half +the good that you can do him, if you choose. And now, madam," he +continued rather sternly, as Cynthia disappeared with a joyful face into +the other room, "may I ask what this interference with my orders may +mean?" + +"I am Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy coldly, "and it was I who sent +for you, Doctor Middlemass. I think I have some right to take an +interest in my brother's condition." + +"Certainly, madam"--the doctor spoke with portentous grimness and +formality--"but--excuse me--no right to tamper with any of my +prescriptions. I prescribed Miss West to my patient; and she was doing +him all the good in the world when I went away. He has got another +fever-fit upon him now, a little higher temperature, and we shall not be +able to do anything more for him at all. If you do not wish my orders to +be followed, madam, have the goodness to send for another doctor and I +will throw up the case." + +"You misunderstand, sir--you misunderstand!" said the General fussily, +coming forward with his most imposing air. "My wife and I, sir, have not +the slightest desire to interfere. We only wish to know what your +prescriptions are. That young woman, sir, has no right to be here at +all." + +"From what I have been told," said the doctor dryly, "I should have said +that she had the greatest possible right to be here; but, however, that +is no business of mine. She has a wonderfully soothing effect on Mr. +Lepel's condition, and, as long as she is here, he is quiet and +manageable. Listen! He is scarcely speaking at all now; her presence and +her touch have calmed him at once. It would be positive madness to take +her away!" + +"Would it not be well," said Mrs. Vane quietly, "to send a trained nurse +here too? There is a woman whom I know; she would be very glad to come, +and she would relieve that young lady of the more painful and onerous +portions of her task. I mean, dear," she said, looking towards her +husband, "old Mrs. Meldreth's daughter--Sabina. She is an efficient +nurse, and she has nothing to do just now." + +"Has she had experience in cases of brain-disease?" said Doctor +Middlemass snappishly. + +"I really do not know." She knew perfectly well that Sabina's knowledge +of nursing was of the most perfunctory kind. "She has had experience of +all kinds of illness, I believe, and she is thoroughly trustworthy. She +could be installed here as an attendant on Miss--Miss West." + +Attendant! "As spy" she meant, on all poor Cynthia's movements. + +"I should like to see the woman first," said the doctor bluntly. He was +not easy to manage, as Flossy swiftly perceived. "If she is competent +for the task, I have no objection--Miss West must not be allowed to +overdo herself; but I myself should prefer to send a person who is +accustomed to deal with illnesses of this kind." + +"As you please, of course," said Flossy. She saw that it would be of no +use to press Sabina Meldreth upon him, much as she would have liked to +secure the services of a spy and an informer in the house. As she +paused, the General came forward. + +"I should like to know, sir," he said, bristling with indignation, "what +you mean by saying that that young lady--that girl--has a right to be +here? I do not understand such language?" + +"Why, of course she has a right to be here," said the doctor, staring at +him in a purposely matter-of-fact way, "since she is the lady that he is +engaged to marry." + +"Marry! Bless my soul--no such thing!" roared the General, utterly +forgetting that there was an invalid in the adjoining room. "Why, he's +going to marry my----" + +"Dear Richard, hush, hush!" said his wife, laying her hand entreatingly +upon his arm. "Don't make such a noise--think of poor Hubert!" + +"Kindly moderate your voice, sir," was the doctor's dry remark. "My +patient will hear you if you don't take care." + +"It does not matter to me whether he hears me or not," the General +began; but Flossy's hand tightened its grasp upon his arm in a way which +he knew that he must obey. + +The General was a docile husband, and his protest died away in +inarticulate angry murmurs. + +"Don't trouble about it, General--I will arrange everything," said his +wife caressingly. "Go over to the window again and leave me to speak to +Doctor Middlemass for a moment;" and, as the General retired, still +growling, she half smiled, and raised her eyes to the doctor's face as +if she invited sympathy. + +But Doctor Middlemass looked as unresponsive as a block of wood. + +"I must go to my patient," he said, "It was to see him, I presume, that +I was summoned?" + +"Not entirely," said Flossy very sweetly. "We wanted to know whether it +was absolutely necessary that Miss West should stay with my brother." + +"Absolutely necessary, madam!" + +"Then of course we should not think of objecting to her presence, which, +I must tell you, is painful to us, because----" + +"Excuse me, madam," said the doctor, who was certainly a very uncivil +person, "if I say that these family-matters are of no interest to me, +save as they affect my patient." + +"But they do affect your patient, doctor. I think it was the worry of +the affair that brought on this illness. We have found out that this +Miss West's name is really 'Westwood,' and that she is the daughter of +the dreadful man who shot my husband's brother Beechfield some years +ago. Perhaps you remember the case?" + +"Oh, yes--I remember it!" said the doctor shortly. "That's the daughter? +Poor girl!" + +"It is naturally unpleasant to think that my brother--a cousin also of +the General's--should be contemplating a marriage with her," said Mrs. +Vane. + +"Ah, well--perhaps so! We are all under the dominion of personal and +selfish prejudice," said Doctor Middlemass. + +"I hoped that this illness might break the tie between them," sighed +Flossy pensively. + +"So it may, madam--by killing him. Do you wish to break it in that +way?" + +"This doctor is a perfect brute!" thought Mrs. Vane to herself; but she +only looked in a reproachful manner at the "brute," and applied her +handkerchief delicately to her eyes. "I trust that there is no +likelihood that it may end in that way. My poor dear Hubert," she +sighed, "if only you had been warned in time!" + +Perhaps this display of emotion softened Doctor Middlemass' heart, or +perhaps he was not so insensible to Mrs. Vane's charms as he tried to +appear; at any rate, when he spoke again it was in a qualified tone. + +"I trust that he will get over this attack. He is certainly a little +better than I expected to find him; but I cannot impress your mind too +strongly with the necessity for care and watchfulness. Anything that +tends to tranquilise the mind of a person in his condition must be +procured for him at almost any risk. When the delirium has passed, an +ordinary nurse may be of greater use than Miss West; but at present we +really cannot do without her. You heard for yourself how he called her +when she went out of the room?" + +"Yes, I heard. Then shall I send the woman of whom I spoke, doctor? She +might be a help to Miss West, whose work I of course would rather assist +than retard in any way." + +"You can thoroughly rely upon her?" said the doctor dubiously. + +"Thoroughly. She is a most valuable person." + +"She might come for a day or two, and we shall see whether she is of any +use or not. Will you send for her?" + +Yes, Mrs. Vane would send. And then the doctor went to look once more at +Hubert, of whose condition he again seemed somewhat doubtful; and +afterwards he took his leave. When he had gone, Mrs. Vane also departed, +taking her docile husband back with her to the Grosvenor Hotel. She had +gained her point and was secretly triumphant; for she had secured the +presence of a spy upon Cynthia, and could depend upon Sabina Meldreth to +give a full account of Miss West's habits and visitors. + +Flossy had great faith in her system of espionage. She sent Parker at +once with a note summoning Sabina to the hotel, and there she laid her +plans. Sabina was to go that very night to Mr. Lepel's rooms, and was to +make herself as useful as she could. It was presumed that Cynthia had +not seen with sufficient clearness for the encounter to be a source of +danger the woman in black who had followed Westwood to Kensington +Gardens. Sabina was told to keep herself in the background as much as +possible--to be silent and serviceable, but, above all, to be observant; +for it was likely that Westwood would try to communicate with his +daughter, and, if he did so, Sabina would perhaps be able to track him +down. + +Flossy had completely lost all fear for herself in the excitement of her +discoveries. It seemed to her that she and her secret were entirely +safe. Nobody, she thought, had ever known of her understanding with +Sydney Vane in days gone by; nobody had any clue to the secret of his +death; so long as Hubert was silent, she had nothing at all to fear; and +Hubert had succumbed to her for so long that she did not dread him now. +Nothing seemed to her more unlikely than that after so many years he +should deliberately divest himself of name and fame, clear Westwood's +reputation at the cost of his own, and sacrifice his freedom for the +sake of a scruple of conscience. Flossy did not believe him foolish +enough or self-denying enough to do all that--and in her estimate of her +brother's character perhaps, after all, Flossy was very nearly right. + +Sabina Meldreth presented herself to Cynthia and Mrs. Jenkins that +evening, and was not very graciously received. However, she proved +herself both capable and willing, and was speedily acknowledged--by Mrs. +Jenkins, at least--to be "a great help in the house." Cynthia said +nothing; she hardly seemed to know that a stranger was present. Her +whole soul was absorbed in the task of nursing Hubert. When he slept, +she did not leave the house; she lay on a sofa in another room. She +could not bear to be far away from Hubert; and more and more, as the +days went on and the delirium was not subdued, did she shrink from the +knowledge that any other ears beside her own should hear the ravings of +the patient--should marvel at the extraordinary things he said, and +wonder whether or no there was any truth in them. + +"He talked in this way because he has brooded over my poor father's +fate!" Cynthia said to herself, with piteous insistence. "He must have +been so much distressed at finding that I was the daughter of Andrew +Westwood that his mind dwelt on all the details of the trial; and now +he fancies almost that he did the deed himself. I have read of such +strange delusions in books. When he is better, no doubt the delusion +will die away. It shows how powerfully his mind was affected by what I +told him--the constant cry that he sees no way out of it shows how he +must have brooded over the matter. No way out of it indeed, my darling, +until the person who murdered Mr. Vane is discovered and brought to +justice! And I almost believe that my father is right, and that the +murderer, directly or indirectly, was Mrs. Vane." + +To Cynthia, Hubert's ravings were the more painful, because they bore +almost entirely upon what had been the great grief--the tragedy--of her +life. He spoke much of Sydney Vane, of Florence, and of Cynthia herself, +but in such strange connection that at times she hardly knew what was +his meaning, or whether he had any definite meaning. Presently, however, +it appeared to her as if one or two ideas ran through the whole warp and +woof of his imaginings. One was the conviction that in some way or +another he must take Westwood's place--give himself up to justice and +set Westwood free. Another was the belief that it was utterly impossible +for Cynthia ever to forgive him for what he had done, and that the +person chiefly responsible for all the misery and shame and disgrace, +which had fallen so unequally on the heads of those concerned in "the +Beechfield tragedy," was no other than Florence Vane. + +Farther than these vague statements he did not go. He never said in so +many words that he was guilty of Sydney Vane's death, and that he, and +not Westwood, ought to have borne the punishment. Yet he said enough to +give Cynthia cause for great unhappiness. She tried not to believe that +there was any foundation of truth for his words; but she could not +succeed. The ideas were too persistent, too logical, to be altogether +the fruit of imagination. More and more she clung to the belief that +Flossy was responsible for Mr. Vane's sudden death, that Hubert knew it, +and that for his sister's sake he had concealed the truth. If this were +so, it would be terrible indeed; and yet Cynthia had a soft corner in +her heart for the man who had sacrificed his own honor to conceal his +sister's sin. + +Cynthia did not go back to Madame della Scala's house. Flossy had done +her work with the singing-mistress as she had done it elsewhere. She +blackened Cynthia's name wherever she went. So, two days after the +girl's departure from Norton Square, her boxes and all her belongings +were sent to her from her former home without a word of apology or +explanation. She felt that she was simply turned out of Madame's +house--that she could never hope to go back to it again. She was now +absolutely homeless; and she was also without employment; for she had +withdrawn from several engagements to sing at concerts, and at more than +one private house she had received an intimation that her services could +be dispensed with. No reason in these cases was given; but it was plain +that the world did not think Miss West a very reputable person, and that +society had turned its back upon her. Cynthia had not leisure to think +what this would mean for her in the future; at present she cared for +nothing but her duties in Hubert Lepel's sick-room. + +Her boxes were deposited at last in Mrs. Jenkins' little house at the +back; and there a small room was appropriated to Cynthia's use. She was +"supposed to be lodging at Mrs. Jenkins'," as Sabina told her mistress; +but she practically lived in Hubert's rooms. Still it was a comfort to +her to think that she had that little room to retire to when Hubert +should recover consciousness; and till then she did not care where or +how she lived. + +Sabina found little to report to Mrs. Vane, who had now returned to +Beechfield. Cynthia went nowhere, and received neither visitors nor +letters. She had been interviewed by the police-officials; but they had +not been able to get any information from her. As for Andrew Westwood, +he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth; and some of +the authorities at Scotland Yard went so far as to say that the report +made to them of his discovery must have been either an illusion of the +fancy or pure invention on the part of Sabina Meldreth and Mrs. Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +Enid's conscience was not at rest. During her interviews with Mr. +Evandale she was inclined to think that he knew everything, understood +everything--even the difference between right and wrong--better than she +herself knew and understood it; but when he was away her heart failed +her. What if Hubert cared for her all the time? Would she not then be +doing him a grievous wrong by forgetting that she had promised to marry +him when she was twenty-one? The General's opposition to her engagement +would probably vanish like a dream when she was a little older, if she +and Hubert showed any inclination to each other. There was no real +reason why they should not marry; and Hubert knew that. And what would +he say when he heard that she had weakly fallen in love with another +man, and wanted to break her word to himself? + +Enid shrank back and blushed with shame at the prospect before her. It +was all very well for Maurice to say that she must not sacrifice +herself; but was it not a woman's duty to sacrifice herself for the good +of others? She said so to Maurice; and his answer was very ready. + +"For the good of others? But do you think it is for Hubert's good to +marry a woman who does not love him, and especially if it is a woman +whom he does not love?" + +"Ah, if I could only be sure of that!" sighed Enid. + +She was not long left in doubt. The General could not keep a secret; +and, as soon as he and his wife returned to Beechfield, Enid felt that +something was wrong--something which concerned herself. Flossy was very +quiet; she eyed Enid strangely once or twice, but she did not tell her +about the events of the past week. It was the General who sighed over +her, petted her, kissed her at unusual times, and looked at her with an +air of pity that the girl found almost intolerable. After three or four +days of it, she broke through her usual rule of reserve, and asked +Flossy what the General meant. + +"You had better ask him," said Mrs. Vane, arching her delicate brows. + +"I have asked him, and he will not tell me." + +"I suppose it is simply that Hubert is ill. He thinks probably that you +are distracted by anxiety about him." + +Enid colored guiltily. + +"But we have good accounts of him," she said, as if explaining away her +own apparent indifference; "he is going on as well as we can expect. And +I suppose you would be with him if he were dangerously ill?" + +"I am not sure of that," said Flossy rather drily; but she would say no +more. + +It was after breakfast one morning that Enid insisted upon being +satisfied. She and the General had, as usual, breakfasted together, and +a letter had just been received from the Doctor in attendance on Hubert, +over which the General coughed, fidgeted, sighed, and was evidently so +much disturbed that Enid's attention was roused to the uttermost. For +the earlier part of the meal she had been sitting with her hands clasped +before her, not attempting to touch the food upon her plate. She had no +appetite; she had passed a bad night, and was little inclined to talk. +But the General's movements and gestures excited her curiosity. + +"Have you had bad news, uncle Richard?" + +"No, no, my dear! He's going on very well--very well indeed." + +"You mean Hubert?" + +"Yes--yes, of course! Whom else should I mean? You needn't be alarmed +about him at all; he'll soon be about again." + +There was a tone of mingled vexation and perplexity in the General's +voice. + +"Is he conscious now?" Enid asked eagerly. + +"Well, no--not exactly--light-headed a little, I suppose. At least----" + +"Who has written, uncle Richard? Can I see the letter?" + +"No, no, no! Not for you to read, my dear! It's from the doctor--nothing +much--nothing for you to see." + +Enid was silent for a few minutes; then she spoke with sudden +determination. + +"Uncle Richard, you are treating me like a child! There is something +that you are hiding from me which I ought to know--I am sure of it! Will +you not tell me what it is?" + +"You are quite mistaken, my dear! There is nothing to tell--nothing, +that is, in the least particular--nothing that you need trouble about at +all." + +"There is something! Oh, uncle Richard"--and she rose from her seat and +knelt down beside him, putting one arm around his neck and fixing her +wistful blue eyes upon his weather-beaten countenance--"you do not know +how much anxiety you cause me by being silent, when I am sure that there +is something in your mind which concerns me, and which I am not to know! +Even if it is a great misfortune--a great sorrow--I would rather know it +than imagine all sorts of dreadful things, as I do now. Whatever it is, +please tell me. It is cruel to keep me in ignorance!" + +The General looked puzzled and troubled. + +"You had better ask Flossy, dear," he said, pulling the ends of his long +white moustache, and looking away from the pleading face before him. "If +there's anything to tell, she could tell it better than I." + +"I don't think so, uncle dear," said Enid softly. Her eyes filled with +tears. "I would rather hear evil tidings from your lips than from those +of any other person, because--because I know you love me and would not +grieve me willingly. Is Hubert worse than I know? Is he--is he dead?" + +"Bless my soul, no!" cried the General. "Why, what put that idea into +your mind, child? No, no--he is going on as well as possible--upon my +word, he is!" + +"What is it then, dear uncle Richard?" + +"It's his nurse," said the General desperately. + +"His nurse?" Enid's eyes grew large with amazement. + +"She isn't a proper, respectable, trained nurse at all. She is just an +amateur--a young woman who has no business to be there at all--not much +older than yourself, Enid, my dear. That is the reason that Flossy would +not stay. We found this young person nursing him, and so we came away. +Flossy was very much shocked--very much annoyed about it, I can tell +you. I wrote to ask if she was still there, and the doctor says she is." + +Enid's white cheeks had turned crimson, but more with surprise than with +anger. The General crossed one leg over the other, and carefully averted +his eyes as he went on-- + +"I don't mean to say anything against her. Flossy says--but you and I +have nothing to do with that--she's not a very nice girl; that is all. +These professional singers and actresses seldom are. You don't know +anything about such people, my little girl, and it is all the better for +you. But Hubert should not have friends among people of that kind. I am +very much disappointed in Hubert--very much disappointed indeed!" + +"This girl is a friend of Hubert's then?" + +"I suppose so. Well--yes, of course." + +"Who is she? What is her name?" + +"She is a singer, my dear," said the General, putting his arm +affectionately round the girl's shoulders, "and she is an uncommonly +pretty girl--I don't deny that. Oh, of course there is nothing for you +to be anxious about! Hubert befriended her, I believe; and she was +grateful, and wanted to repay him--and--and all that, you know." The +General was rather proud of having given this turn to the story. + +"But I think that was very kind and good of her," said Enid, with +kindling eyes. "Why are you so distressed about it, uncle Richard? I +should like to have done the same for poor Hubert too. What is the +girl's name?" + +"They call her," said the General, looking very much abashed--"they call +her Cynthia West. But that isn't her real name." + +"Cynthia West?" said Enid, in a low tone. Then she was silent. She was +recalling the day when she had questioned Hubert about Cynthia West. He +had said that he knew her--a little. And this girl whom he knew "a +little" had gone to nurse him in his hour of need! Well, was there +anything particularly wrong in that? + +The General, having once begun the story, could not keep it to himself. + +"It is a most extraordinary thing," he said, "how Hubert came to know +her at all. I should have thought that he would steer clear of her--as +clear as of poison--when he was engaged to you and all." + +"Oh, he would not think of me!" said Enid quietly. "Why should he have +avoided Cynthia West?" + +"Why?" said the General, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang +that made the dishes rattle, and caused Enid to give a nervous start. +"Why, because she is not Cynthia West at all! She is the daughter of +that ruffian--that murderer--to whom your desolate orphaned condition +is due, my darling! She is Westwood's child, the man who killed your +dear father and ought to have been hanged for it long ago!" + +Enid's hand slipped from her uncle's neck. She knelt on, looking up at +him with dazed incredulous eyes and quivering white lips. The +communication had given a great shock to her trust in Hubert. + +"Perhaps--perhaps," she said at last, "Hubert did not know." + +"Oh, but he did--he did!" said her uncle, whose memory for dates and +details was generally at fault. "If not at once, he knew before very +long; and he ought never to have spoken to her again when once he knew. +As for all that stuff about his not being quiet unless she was in the +room--about her being the only person who could manage him when he was +delirious, you know--why, that was stuff and nonsense! They ought to +have got a strait-waistcoat and strapped him down to the bed; that would +surely have kept him as quiet as any Miss Cynthia West!" + +The General said the name with infinite scorn. + +"Is that what they said--that he was quiet when she was there?" Enid +inquired. + +"So they said--so they said! I don't see the sense of it myself," +replied the General, feeling that he had perhaps said a little too much. + +"Then did he send for her?" + +"No, my dear; he was unconscious when she came. I believe that his man +Jenkins was at the bottom of it all. He went and told her that poor +Hubert was ill." + +"But I don't quite understand. If Hubert did not send for her, what +right had she to come?" + +"You may well ask that. What right indeed! An abominable thing, I call +it, for Westwood's daughter to go and nurse one of our family! Don't +grieve about it, my darling! If Hubert was led astray by her wiles for a +little time, you may be sure that he will be ashamed of himself before +very long. He has a good heart, and will not let you go; he loves you +too sincerely for that, I am quite sure. So you must not fret." + +"I don't; I shall not grieve--in that way, uncle," said Enid gravely, +but with perfect calm. "You mean that Hubert cares for her, and that she +loves him too?" + +"I don't know what she does," said the General, with a rather ominous +growl. "I only know that there were some entanglement--understanding +between them--a flirtation I dare say--young men are not always so +careful as they ought to be--and perhaps the girl has taken it +seriously." + +"Poor girl," said Enid softly--"I am very sorry for her!" + +"Sorry? Sorry for Westwood's daughter? Enid, you forget what is due to +yourself and to your father! Do not speak of her! Forget her; and rest +assured that when Hubert is better he will dismiss her with thanks--if +thanks are necessary--and that we shall soon see him here at Beechfield +again. And, my dear, when he is better, I will put no further obstacle +in your way, if you still desire the--the engagement to go on." + +"You forget, uncle Richard," said Enid very quietly, "that there was no +real engagement." + +She had always maintained to herself before that there was one. He +looked at her with wonder. + +"But, my dear, there was a sort of an understanding, you know; and +Flossy always said that you were so fond of each other." + +"Flossy did not know," Enid answered coldly. Then she withdrew herself +from the General's encircling arm and rose to her feet. "You have not +told me yet, uncle," she went on, "what news you had from the doctor +this morning." + +"Oh, nothing fresh!" said the General, in rather a guilty tone; and +then, as she pressed him, he explained further. "You see, my dear child, +we thought that this Miss West ought to go away, because none of us can +go to see Hubert while she is there--if for no other reason, because she +is that man's daughter; and I wrote to the doctor to inquire whether +Hubert could not do without her now; and he says, No--that there would +be danger of a relapse if she should go." + +"Then of course you will say that she must be asked to stay until Hubert +is better, uncle." + +"Certainly." + +"Do you think so, my dear?" + +"But it is naturally very painful to you, and to all of us, to think +that Hubert's recovery is dependent on that girl. I call it positively +degrading!" cried the General, crumpling up his papers, and rising from +his seat in a sudden fury. + +"It is painful--yes," said Enid, with a heavy sigh; "but I suppose that +it cannot be helped;" and she turned away, so that he might not see the +quivering of her lip or the tear that rolled down her pale cheeks as she +said the words. + +She went out into the conservatory and sat down amongst the flowers. She +had been too proud to show the General how much she was hurt; but, as a +matter of fact, she was very deeply wounded by what she heard. Her +affections were not bruised--she had never cared for Hubert so little in +her life; but her pride had received a tremendous blow. Even if he had +only "flirted" with Cynthia West, as the General had suggested, the +flirtation was an insult to the girl whom he had asked in marriage. +Indeed it seemed worse to Enid than a _grande passion_ would have +seemed; for her readings in poetry and fiction had taught her that a +genuine and passionate love sometimes caused people to forget the claims +of duty and the bonds of a previous affection. But the General had not +seemed to think that anything of this kind existed; although the fact +that Hubert's delirium could not be quieted except in Cynthia's presence +showed, even to Enid's innocent eyes, that some strong sympathy, some +great mutual attraction, united them. If it were so, Enid asked herself, +could she blame him? What had she herself done? Had she not given her +heart away to Maurice Evandale, although her word was plighted to Hubert +Lepel? + +But then, she said to herself, she had never professed any great +affection for Hubert; she had not taken the initiative in any way. He +need not have asked her to marry him--he might have left her perfectly +free. She felt indignantly that she had been trifled with--that he had +asked her to be his wife without caring to make her so, and that he +might perhaps have trifled in the same manner with Cynthia West. If that +were the case, Enid Vane said to herself that she could never forgive +him. He had profaned love itself--the holiest of earth's mysteries--and +she resented the action, although she might gain by it her own freedom +and happiness. + +It was even possible that this gain might be denied to her. Suppose, +when he was better, that he came back and claimed her promise, +repudiated Cynthia's attempt to earn his gratitude, and explained his +conduct in such a manner that no fair-minded person could refuse him +credence? What then could she do? Enid felt that she might not have the +strength to fight against him unless Maurice were at her side; and +Maurice had, unfortunately for her, been suddenly summoned to the North +of England to attend his father's death-bed. He had left Beechfield with +many fears for Enid's welfare; but he was of course obliged to go, and +had had no opportunity of declaring himself to the General as a suitor +for Enid's hand before his departure. For the moment therefore Enid was +quite alone; and, seeing the net in which she was caught--a net of fraud +and trickery and lies--her heart failed her, and she felt herself +helpless indeed. + +She was in far more danger than she guessed; for Mrs. Vane looked upon +her as a deadly enemy, and was resolved that she should never have the +chance of confiding what she knew to another person. From what Hubert +had said, the girl had made up her mind to tell him all she knew when +once she was his wife. To tell Hubert was what Flossy was resolved that +Enid should never do. She should never marry Hubert or any other man; +sooner than betray Flossy's secrets, Enid Vane should die. The white +still woman with the brown eyes and yellow hair was ready to face the +chances of detection--ready to take life, if necessary, rather than see +her plans defeated and herself disgraced. With Enid out of the way, she +might not be safe; but she would be safer than she was now. + +She took note however of the warning that Parker had given her. She had +been going too fast; she must be more careful for the future. She must +proceed by such slow degrees that Mr. Ingledew himself should be +deceived. And she must change her plans also; for she found that Enid no +longer touched the cooling drinks that were placed beside her every +night--the girl said that she did not care for them, and sent them away +untouched. But surely there were plenty of other ways! + +Mr. Evandale had said a few guarded words to Mr. Ingledew about his +treatment of Miss Vane, and his remarks had caused the surgeon to send a +simple tonic mixture instead of the soothing draughts which had formerly +excited some surprise and even some indignation in the Rector's mind. He +did not much believe in soothing draughts, as he soon elicited from Mr. +Ingledew that they had been made up in conformity with Mrs. Vane's views +of the case rather than according to what Mr. Ingledew himself thought +necessary; and a word from the Rector, whose medical knowledge was +really considerable, caused Mr. Ingledew to change his opinions very +speedily. At the same time, tonics, like other things, could be +doctored; and, as Mr. Evandale was out of the way, Enid's welfare lay, +for the time being, at Flossy's mercy. + +She began to suffer in the old way--from dizziness and nausea and pains +for which she could not account, with an utterly inexplicable weakness +and languor, different from all her former symptoms. Perhaps Mrs. Vane +had altered her treatment. At any rate, it was certain that some +mysterious factor was at work stealing the girl's energy away from her, +diminishing her vitality, bringing her, in short, to the very gates of +death. And so insidiously did the work proceed that even Parker, who had +had suspicions of her mistress, scarcely noticed the advance of Enid's +malady. There were no more fainting-fits--nothing definitely alarming; +but day by day the girl grew weaker, and no one noticed or guessed the +reason why. + +Enid's nights were restless; but she had not been disturbed since +Flossy's return from London by the white figure which she had seen at +her bedside. She told herself that Maurice was right--that her nerves +had played her false, and that the appearances had been a mere phantasm +of her imagination. She quite lost her fear of seeing it again; and, +although she had held no further conversation with the Rector after Mrs. +Vane's arrival in the house, she was reassured and strengthened by the +remembrance of his words. When she awoke in the night-time now, she knew +no fear. + +And yet--it was about three weeks after the beginning of Hubert Lepel's +illness--her heart gave a wild leap when she opened her eyes one night, +and saw in her room, by the faint light of a glimmering taper, the +ghostly figure of a woman clothed from head to foot in white. She stood, +not by the bedside, but by the mantelpiece, with something--was it a +medicine-phial?--in her hand. What the visitant was doing Enid could not +exactly see; but she started up, and at the movement the white woman +turned and showed her face. + +Enid uttered an exclamation--a sort of gasp of terror--for her worst +fears were realised. The phantom which she had dreaded had come to her +again in spite of Maurice's promises of aid. He had forgotten to pray +for her perhaps--a childish notion crossed her mind that perhaps because +of his forgetfulness the ghost was there. + +But was it a ghost--a phantom of the senses, and not a living woman +after all? For the face which met the girl's eyes was not one that she +could easily mistake--it was the face of Florence Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +At that moment Enid recalled, by one instinctive flash of memory, the +words that Maurice Evandale had said to her. If ever she saw "the ghost" +again, she was to speak to it--she was not to be afraid. God would take +care of her. With a sort of mental clutch at the strength residing in +those words, she maintained herself in a sitting posture and looked the +white woman full in the face. Yes, it was Flossy's face; but was it +Flossy herself? For the figure made a strange threatening gesture, and +glided smoothly towards the door as if to disappear--though in natural +and not very ghost-like fashion, for the door stood wide open, and it +was the soft cool night-breeze of summer that had opened Enid's +slumbering eyes. In another moment the visitor would be gone, and Enid +would never know whether what she saw was a reality or a dream. + +That should not be. Strength and courage suddenly returned to her, +inspired by the remembrance of her lover and his words, she would speak. + +"Why are you here?" she said. + +Still no answer. The figure glided onward, and its eyes--glittering and +baleful--were never once removed from Enid's face. With one supreme +effort, the girl sprang from the bed and threw herself in the strange +visitor's way. The figure halted and drew back. Enid laid a hand upon +its arm. Ah, yes, thank Heaven, she felt the touch of flesh and blood! +No weird reflected image of a wandering brain was before her; a +woman--only a wicked desperate woman--stood in her way. Enid was not +afraid. + +"Florence," she said, "why are you here?" + +The woman dashed down the detaining hand. She knew that it was of no use +to assume any longer the character with which she had hoped to impress +the mind of the sensitive, nervous, delicate girl. She was no ghost +indeed; she could figure no longer as a nightmare in Enid's memory. She +stood revealed. But she did not lose her self possession. After a +moment's pause, she spoke with dignity. + +"I came here," she said, "to see whether you were sleeping quietly. +Surely I may do so much for my husband's niece?" + +"And what were you doing there?" said Enid, pointing to the mantelpiece. +"Why were you tampering with what Mr. Ingledew sends me to take?" + +"Tampering, you silly girl? You do not know the meaning of your own +words!" + +"Do I not? What have you in your hand?" + +She grasped at the little phial which Flossy had half hidden in the +white folds of her dressing-gown--grasped at it, and succeeded, by the +quickness of her movement, in wrenching it from Mrs. Vane's hand. Then, +even by the dim light of the candle, she could see that Flossy's color +waned, and that her narrow eyes were distended with sudden fear. + +"Why do you take that? Give it me back!" + +"Yes," said Enid, upon whom the excitement had acted like a draught of +wine, giving color to her face and decision to her tones--"yes, when I +have found out what it contains." + +"You little fool--you will not know when you look at it!" + +"I will keep it and ask Mr. Ingledew or Mr. Evandale. You were pouring +from it into the medicine that Mr. Ingledew gave me--for what purpose +you know, not I." + +A gasp issued from Flossy's pale lips. Her danger was clear to her now. + +"Give it back to me!" she said. "I will have it--I tell you I will!" + +Enid's hand was frail and slight; not for one moment could she have +resisted Mrs. Vane's superior strength--for Flossy could be strong when +occasion called for strength--and she did not try. With a quick sweep of +her arm she hurled the little bottle into the grate! It broke into +fragments as it fell, the crash striking painfully on the ear in the +stillness of the night. The two women looked into each other's faces; +and then Flossy quailed and fell back a step or two. + +"What good or harm will that do?" she asked slowly. "Why did you break +it?" + +"Better for it to be broken than used for others' harm." + +"How do you know that it was meant to do harm?" + +"I don't know it; I feel it--I am sure of it. If you lie and cheat and +rob, where will you stop short? Is it likely that I of all people can +trust you?" + +Florence caught at the bed as if for support. She was trembling +violently; but her face had all its old malignancy as she said-- + +"You are going to slander me to your uncle, I suppose? Every one knows +that you would gain if I--I and little Dick were out of the way!" + +Enid looked at her steadily. + +"You are very clever, Florence," she said, "and it is exceedingly clever +of you to mention little Dick to me. You know that I love him, although +I do not love you. I shall do no harm to him that I can help. But +this--this burden is more than I can bear alone! I shall go to another +for help." + +"You have promised to speak to nobody but Hubert on the subject," said +Flossy, turning upon her with a look of tigress-like fury. + +"To nobody but my husband or my promised husband." + +"And that is Hubert." + +"No; it is not Hubert." + +"Not Hubert? Then who--who?" + +"That is nothing to you. You will hear in good time. You have no right +to question me; you lost your authority over me long ago." + +"Not Hubert?" Flossy repeated once more, as if bewildered by the news. +Then she burst into a low wild laugh. "You are right," she said. "He has +replaced you already; he is desperately in love with Cynthia Westwood, +the daughter of the man who murdered your father, and he has given you +up. He never cared for you; he wanted your money only. Did that never +occur to your innocent mind? As soon as he is better, he will make +Cynthia his wife." + +"He is free to do so if he pleases," said the girl, with a touch of +scorn in her voice. "I am thankful to escape from you both. You will not +expect me to live under the same roof with you again." + +"Go where you please," returned Florence, "say and do what you please; I +shall be only too glad to think that I shall never see your face again. +I always hated you, Enid Vane; from the time that you were a child I +hated you, as I hated your mother before you. Some day you will perhaps +know why." + +"I don't want to know. I have always felt that you hated me," said Enid, +the hot color receding from her cheeks. She was one of those people on +whom the consciousness of being disliked produces a chilling effect. +"But I never hated you; I do not hate you now. Oh, Flossy, is there no +way of setting things straight without letting anybody know?" + +Florence sneered at the almost child-like appeal. + +"For myself," she said, "I have a resource which will not fail me even +if you do your worst. Do you think that I would ever live to bear public +disgrace? Not for twenty-four hours! Remember this, Enid Vane--the day +when the whole story, as we know it, comes to light will be my last. If +you betray me, you will be my murderess. You will have killed me as +truly as ever--as ever a cruel assassin killed your father Sydney Vane!" + +With a gesture of her arm, as if to keep the girl from touching her, she +swept towards the open door. Enid did not attempt to stop her. A +sensation of awe, of affright even, seized her as she watched the white +figure gliding steadily along the passage until the darkness hid it from +her view. Then she sank down on the bed once more, trembling and afraid. +The desperate boldness which had for a long time possessed her was +succeeded by a reaction of horror and dismay. How could she hide herself +from Flossy's hate--how save herself from Flossy's sure revenge? + +As she thought of these things, she knew by certain well-marked +symptoms that one of her old attacks of almost cataleptic stupor was +coming upon her. In the old days she would have succumbed to it at +once. But Evandale's words rang in her ears. What had he said? He +thought that she might control herself--that she might prevent these +nervous seizures from overcoming her. She sat up, and by a violent +effort roused herself a little. Then she tried the experiment of +walking across the room to the open window, where the fresh air +revived her. A glass of water, a few turns across the room, and, quite +suddenly, she was once more mistress of herself. She had conquered the +feeling of faintness--conquered the terrible rigidity of limb which +used to attack her at these times. The Rector's words had proved the +tonic that her weakened nerves seemed to require. For the first time +in her life she was a conqueror. There was no reason why she should +not conquer again and again until her nerves recovered their tone and +the fatal tendency was overcome. + +New strength came to her with this consciousness. She lighted a lamp and +donned a dressing-gown; then, after a little deliberation, she went to +Parker's room. She found the maid up and partially dressed. There was a +scared look on the woman's face which caused Enid to suspect that her +conversation with Mrs. Vane had been partially if not altogether +overheard. But this Enid resolved not to seem to know. + +"Parker," she said quietly, "I am thinking of going to London. Will you +come with me?" + +"Yes, miss, that I will--to the end of the world if you like!" was the +unexpectedly fervent response. + +But Enid showed no surprise. + +"Can you tell me about the trains? What is the earliest?" + +"There's one at six, miss; but you wouldn't start so early as that, +would you?" + +"The sooner the better, I think. I will dress now, and call you +presently to pack my bag. The boxes can be sent afterwards." + +"Yes, miss." + +"And, Parker, if you come with me, you must remember that you are +quitting Mrs. Vane's service. She will never take you back if you leave +her now." + +"I wouldn't come back--not if she paid me double!" cried Parker, honest +tears starting to her beady eyes. "I don't care what she does; but I'll +never work for her again--not after what I have heard and seen!" + +"You must not speak either to me or any one else about what you have +heard or seen," said Enid gravely, "particularly in the house to which +we are going. Will you remember that?" + +"Oh, yes, miss--I'll not say a single word! And you have settled where +to go, miss, if I may make so bold as to ask?" + +"I am going to my aunt--Miss Vane," said Enid briefly; and Parker +retired, not daring to ask any more questions, being a little overawed +by the growth of some new quality in the girl's nature--some novel +development of strength and character which imposed silence on her +companion in this self-enforced exile. + +The dawn was breaking when Enid began to make her preparations for +departure. The faint yellow light of day stole into the room when she +drew back the window-curtains and stood looking--perhaps for the last +time, she thought--upon the flower-gardens and the lawn, upon the sheet +of water in the distance, the beech woods, and the distant hills--spots +that she had known from childhood, and which were dearer to her than any +new scenes could ever be. And yet she did not falter in her purpose. +Even to herself she did not seem the same gentle submissive maiden that +she had hitherto been considered. Some new strength had passed into her +veins; she was eager to act as became the woman who was one day to be +the wife of Maurice Evandale. + +She had one task to perform that was very hard to her. She could not go +without writing a farewell letter to the General, who had always been so +kind and good to her. She made it as short and simple as possible, and +she explained nothing. Without consulting Mr. Evandale, and perhaps her +aunt Leo, of whom she was genuinely fond, she felt that she was not free +to speak. + + "Dearest uncle Richard," she wrote--"I think it best to go to + London to-day and see aunt Leo. I am taking Parker with me. Forgive + me if I say that I do not think I can ever come back again. I hope + you will not look on me as ungrateful for all your kindness to me. + I will write again, and shall hope to see you in London. Your + loving niece, ENID." + +She placed the letter in an envelope, addressed it, and left it in a +conspicuous position on the dressing-table. Then she put on her hat and +cloak, and asked Parker whether she was ready to leave the house. The +clock had struck five, and they had some distance to walk before they +could reach a railway-station. Parker prevailed upon her to eat and +drink before they started; but the girl's appetite was small, and she +left her biscuits almost untouched upon the plate. + +As the two stole silently down the corridor, Enid noticed that the door +of Dick's night-nursery was half open. She hesitated, then with a mute +sign to Parker to go on, she entered the room and made her way to the +child's bedside. Parker lingered long enough to see her kneel down +beside it, and lay her face for a few moments on the pillow beside the +sleeping boy. She kissed him very gently; and when, with a sleepy +movement, he turned and put his arm round her, as if to hold her there, +the tears began to fall down her pale cheeks. But she dared not stay too +long. She rose presently, put his hand back under the coverlet, and +kissed him once again. + +"Dear little Dick," she murmured sorrowfully, "will you some day think +that I did not love you, when you know what I have done, and what I +shall have to do?" + +When Enid rejoined Parker she was pale, but calm; the tears lingered on +her eyelashes, but had been carefully wiped away from her cheeks. They +left the house in silence by a side-door which could be easily unbolted; +and for some time Parker did not venture to open her lips. Her young +mistress looked like a different being with that grave determination on +her face, that steady serious light in her sad but serene blue eyes. + +Just when they reached the point from which the Hall could last be seen, +Enid turned and looked at it for a moment. It was her last farewell; and +the yearning tenderness that stole into her face as she gazed and gazed +again brought the tears to Parker's eyes. The maid had taken a strong +liking to Miss Enid Vane, and was ready to devote her whole strength to +her service. At the same time, the thought of the revenge that Mrs. Vane +might wreak upon her for this desertion was misery to Parker; for what +should she do if her mother learned that she had once been dismissed +from a situation in disgrace, or if she could not earn enough to keep +her mother in the comfort to which she had grown accustomed? She was +quite ready and willing to leave Mrs. Vane; but she was afraid when she +considered the future; and, as she walked along the road beside her +young mistress, the tears now and then brimmed over, and had to be +surreptitiously wiped away. + +"If you are regretting what you have done, Parker," said Enid at length, +"you are quite at liberty, you know, to go back to Beechfield Hall." + +"Oh, no, miss--I wouldn't go back for anything! There's some things that +even a servant can't bear to see going on. It's only my poor mother, +miss, that I'm thinking about." + +"Why?" said Enid gently--at that moment it was easy to her to sympathise +with sorrow. "Is it your wages that you are thinking of? I am sure that +you will not be a loser by coming with me." + +"It's not the money, miss, thank you--it's--it's my character," said +Parker, with a sudden gush of tears--"it's what my mother may hear of me +that I care about! I wouldn't deceive you, miss, for the world! I'll +tell you about it, if you'll kindly hear." + +And then, as the two women walked along the lonely country road in the +shining freshness of the early summer morning, Parker made her +confession. She told the story of her disgrace and summary dismissal, of +Mrs. Vane's apparent kindness to her, and of the way in which she had +been used as a tool in the furtherance of Mrs. Vane's designs. Enid +turned a shade paler as she heard of how she had been tracked, watched, +spied upon; but there was no anger in her voice as she replied. + +"I think we ought both to be thankful, Parker, to get away just now from +Beechfield Hall. It will be better for us if we never see Mrs. Vane +again. I do not think that she will hurt you however, or tell your story +to your mother. She will have other things to think about just now." + +Parker wondered vaguely what those other things were; but she did not +say a word. For a minute or two Enid also was silent, and thought of +Flossy. What was she doing? Of what was she thinking now? + +As a matter of fact, Flossy was at that moment just awakening to a sick +shuddering consciousness of what had happened. She had gone to her room +and fallen to the floor in a death-like swoon. When she was able to +move, she crept to the bell and rang again and again for Parker. But +Parker of course did not come; and little by little Mrs. Vane became +aware that she was deserted, that Enid and her maid had left the house, +and that, for all she knew, instant ruin and disgrace hung like an +inevitable fate above her head. + +When Enid spoke, it was in kindly tones. + +"You must forget the past and start afresh, Parker. We all have to do +that, you know, Mr. Evandale says. We will make a new beginning." + +"I have often thought, miss, that I should like to tell Mr. Evandale all +about it, and hear what he would say." + +"You shall do so, Parker. We shall see Mr. Evandale in London very +likely." Enid paused a little, and then said, in her even, serious +voice, "I will tell you what I have told to no one else, Parker, because +you have trusted me--I am going to marry Mr. Evandale." + +"Are you, miss? I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it! We all thought, miss, +that it was Mr. Lepel." + +"No; I shall never marry Mr. Lepel." + +"Is it a secret, miss?" said Parker. + +"Until Mr. Evandale comes back from Yorkshire--that is all. After that +we will have no more concealments of any kind. I think," said Enid +softly but seriously--"I think that perfect truth is the most beautiful +thing in the whole world." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +Miss Vane's welcome of her niece was dashed by amazement. + +"Why, good gracious, child," she said, "what have you come at this hour +of the day for? I'm delighted to see you; but I never heard of such a +thing! Arriving at nine o'clock in the morning from Beechfield, +especially after all the accounts I have heard of your health! You look +fit to faint as it is!" + +"I am tired," said Enid, with a little smile. + +She sat down in Miss Vane's pretty dining-room, where her aunt was +seated at breakfast, and began to take off her gloves. Parker had +retired into the lower regions of the house, and the two ladies were +alone. + +"I won't hear anything until you have had some coffee," said Miss Vane, +in her quick decisive way. "Get a little color into those pale cheeks, +my dear, before you begin to talk! There--drink your coffee! Not a bad +plan, after all, to start before the heat of the day comes on, only it +is a wonderfully energetic proceeding! Have you come to shop, or are you +anxious about Hubert? I went to his rooms the other day and saw him. He +is weak; but he is quite sensible now, you know." + +"Who was there?" said Enid, setting down her cup with a new color in her +cheeks. + +Miss Vane looked at her sharply. + +"Oh, the nurse of course--a Beechfield woman, I believe, recommended by +Florence! I saw no one else, not even the Jenkinses, who, I hear, have +been most devoted to him in his illness." + +Enid dropped her eyes. She did not care just then to ask any questions +about Cynthia West. If Miss Vane knew the story, she evidently +considered it unfit for Enid's ears. + +"And now, my dear, what brings you to town," said aunt Leo briskly, when +the meal was ended, and Enid had been installed on a comfortable sofa, +where she was ordered to "lie still and rest;" "and how did you induce +Richard and Flossy to let you come?" + +"I ought perhaps to have told you as soon as I came in, aunt Leo," said +Enid, sitting up, "that nobody knew--that, in fact, I have run away from +Beechfield, and that I never, never can go back!" + +"Oh," said Miss Vane, "that's rather sudden, is it not? But I suppose +you have a reason?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo, but one which--at present--I cannot tell." + +"Cannot tell, Enid, my dear?" + +"Not just yet--not until I have consulted some one else." + +"Oh, Hubert, I suppose?" + +"No," said Enid, blushing and holding down her head--"not Hubert." + +Miss Vane put up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and inspected her for a +minute or two. + +"You look as if you had been worried out of your life!" she said. "You +are as thin as a thread-paper! Well, you will not be worried here, my +child. You can stay as long as you like, and tell me everything or +nothing, as you please. One thing I will say--I suppose Flossy is at +the bottom of it all?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo." + +"That accounts for everything. Flossy never could be trusted. Did she +want you to be engaged to Hubert?" + +"I think so--at first. Now I do not know." + +"I suppose they badgered you into it?" said Miss Vane thoughtfully. "Are +you going on with it?"--in her usual abrupt tone. + +"With the engagement, aunt Leo? Oh, no!" + +"Come--that's a good thing!" said aunt Leo briskly. "For I don't think +Hubert is quite worthy of you, my dear. He has disappointed me rather. +Well, I won't bother you with any more questions, especially as I have a +visitor coming at ten o'clock--a young parson from the country who has +written to request an interview. There's the bell--I suppose he has +arrived. Begging, I expect! I told Hodges---- Why, he's showing the man +in here! Hodges----" + +But it was too late. Hodges always obeyed his mistress to the letter; +and his mistress, thinking she would be alone, had ordered "the parson" +to be shown into the dining-room. The presence of a visitor made no +difference in Hodges' opinion. Accordingly, in spite of Miss Vane's +signs and protests, he flung the door wide open, and announced, in a +stentorian voice, the parson's name-- + +"Mr. Evandale." + +Then Miss Vane--and Hodges too, before he closed the door--beheld a +curious sight; for, instead of looking at his hostess, the parson, who +was a singularly handsome man, with a band of crape on his arm, made two +strides to the sofa, from which Enid, with a low cry of joy, arose and +flung herself into his arms. + +"My own darling!" exclaimed the man. + +"Maurice--dearest Maurice!" the girl rejoined; and then she burst out +crying upon his shoulder; and he kissed her and called her fond names in +entire oblivion of Miss Vane's stately presence. + +The old lady was both scandalised and offended by these proceedings. Her +sharp eyes looked brighter and her rather prominent nose more hawk-like +than ever as she made her voice heard at last. + +"I should like some explanation of this extraordinary behavior!" she +said; with asperity. "Sir, I have not the honor of knowing you! Enid, +what does this mean?" + +"I am the Rector of Beechfield," said Mr. Evandale. "I most heartily beg +your pardon, Miss Vane, for the way in which I have introduced myself to +you! I wrote to ask if I might see you, because I know what a friend you +have always been to Enid, and I wanted to see you myself and tell you +how Enid and I had come to understand each other; but, when I saw my +darling here--safe with you--I was so much taken by surprise----" + +"I am taken by surprise too," said Miss Vane grimly. "Pray, sir, does +the General know of your mutual understanding?" + +"No, aunt Leo; and that is one reason why I came to you," said Enid, +abandoning Maurice Evandale and bestowing an embrace upon her aunt. "You +know, I had just told you that I was not engaged to Hubert." + +"You gave up Hubert for this gentleman, did you?" + +"I think, aunt Leo, that Hubert gave me up first;" and Enid raised her +head and looked earnestly into her aunt's eyes, which fell before that +serious candid gaze. + +"Well, my dear, well--and was it for this that you came to me?" + +Miss Vane's voice was gentler now; and Mr. Evandale took advantage of +the opportunity afforded him to pour out the story of his love for +Enid--of his certainty that she was not happy, and his endeavor to win +her confidence. He went on to say that he had been in Yorkshire +attending his father's funeral and settling his affairs for the last few +days, and that it had occurred to him to call on Miss Vane--of whom he +had so often heard!--on his way through London to Beechfield. He had +meant to tell her of Enid's unhappiness and of his attachment to her, +and to ask Miss Vane's interest and help; and it was the greatest +possible surprise to him to find Enid in the room when he entered it. + +"What did you mean by saying that she was safe here?" said Miss Vane at +this point. "Safe with me, you said." + +Maurice looked at the girl. + +"I have told aunt Leo nothing yet," she said. "And, oh, dear aunt Leo, +you won't be vexed, will you, if I may speak to Maurice just for five +minutes first? Because indeed I am so puzzled that I do not know what to +do." + +Miss Vane subdued a rising inclination to anger, and did her best to +smile. + +"Ah, well, I know what you young people are!" she said good-humoredly. +"I suppose I shall be taken into your secrets by-and-by." + +Enid kissed her cheek. + +"If they were our secrets, you should know all about them this very +minute," she said; "but they are not ours, dear auntie." + +"Flossy's, I suppose?" said Miss Vane rather shortly, as she disengaged +herself from Enid's arm and went out of the room. But she was not +ill-pleased, although she pretended to feel piqued by the request for a +private interview. "He looks like a man to be trusted," she said. "Enid +will be happier with him than with Hubert--poor Hubert, poor miserable, +deluded boy! As for Flossy, I cannot think of her without a shudder. +Heaven knows what she has done, but she has most certainly driven Enid +out of the house by her conduct! I hope it is nothing very seriously +wrong." + +At that moment a telegram was put into Miss Vane's hands. It was from +the General. + + "Is Enid with you? If not, telegraph at once. I am coming up to + town by next train." + +It seemed long to Miss Vane before she was summoned to the promised +conference with Enid and Mr. Evandale. Here a great shock awaited her. +Enid had told her whole story to Maurice, and he had said that, while +the midnight interview between Enid and Mrs. Vane might be kept +secret--as nothing could absolutely be proved respecting Flossy's +sinister designs on Enid's life or health--the confession that Mrs. +Meldreth had made to Enid in her last moments should be made known. Enid +was however still reluctant; and Miss Vane was brought in chiefly to +give her advice, and thus to settle the question. + +"Well," she said, looking keenly from one to the other, as she sat +beside Enid's sofa and Mr. Evandale stood before her, "I think I may +safely say that it's not the money that either of you cares about." + +"No, indeed!" The voices were unanimous. + +"Neither money nor lands matter very much to you. But you"--to +Evandale--"hate the deceit; and you, on the other hand"--turning to +Enid--"are fond of the poor child, who, I must say, has been treated +about as badly as any of you. Isn't that the case?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo." + +"And what's to be done with him when the truth is made known? Is he to +be made over to his rightful owner--Sabina Meldreth?" + +Enid and Mr. Evandale looked at each other. + +"No," said the Rector, at length--"certainly not! We would bring him up +ourselves, if need be; and Enid would be to him all that his own mother +and Mrs. Vane have failed to be." + +"And he should never suffer," said Enid, with tears in her eyes. "I love +him as if he were my own little brother, aunt Leo. He should have all +the property--as far as I am concerned--if Maurice thought it right." + +"Yes, certainly, if the General chose to leave it to him; but the +General ought to know," said Mr. Evandale decisively. "I do not see how +we can be parties to a deception any longer." + +"It is a very hard position for all of us," said Miss Vane. "As for me, +I am most seriously concerned for my brother. Have you thought what a +terrible shock you are preparing for him?" + +Evandale looked grave and did not answer. + +"He is devotedly fond of his wife and of the child. To tell him that +Florence is a liar and a cheat--that she has practised a deception upon +him for many years, in order to gain position and a good income for +herself as the mother of his son--above all, to tell him that the boy is +not his son at all--do you think that he will survive it? Dare you take +upon yourselves the responsibility of shortening his days in that way? I +must confess that in your places I should hold my tongue; because it +does not seem to have occurred to you that, after all, old Mrs. Meldreth +may not have been speaking the truth." + +"I never thought of that," said Enid. + +"If you had seen the woman herself, Miss Vane, you would have been +convinced of her sincerity," said the Rector. + +"Possibly. But only you two were there. The General will probably refuse +to listen to Enid's testimony, and will fume himself into an apoplectic +fit when he hears that she has any to give. You, Mr. Evandale, did not +hear the woman's communication at all. Suppose you kill the General by +the news--do you want to take the matter into court? Is Enid to stand up +and tell her experiences to a pack of lawyers, and hear the world say +that she has done it to get the estate for herself? You could not bear +it, Enid, my child! You would lose your head and contradict yourself; +and Flossy would brazen it out and be the heroine of the day; and Mr. +Evandale would be ruined in costs." + +"I don't mind that, so long as the truth prevails," said Mr. Evandale. +"I do not want the money--neither does Enid; we would sooner endow an +hospital with it or give it to little Dick than keep it if gained under +such auspices. But it is hard to see Mrs. Vane--whom I firmly believe to +be guilty of fraud as well as of an attempt upon my darling's +life--triumphant in wrong-doing." + +"Well, nobody ought to know better than you, Mr. Evandale, that the +wicked flourish like the green bay-tree," said Miss Vane drily; "and I +don't see that it is our part to destroy them." + +"Aunt Leo, you are making us feel ourselves horrid!" said Enid from the +cushions amongst which her aunt had insisted on installing her. "We do +not want to punish her, or to make dear uncle Richard ill, or to turn +poor little Dick out of Beechfield." + +"Yet it is just those things which you propose doing." + +There was a moment's silence. Then the Rector looked at Enid. + +"I think we shall have to give it up, Enid, unless we get other +evidence." + +"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Enid, with tears in her eyes. "It was when I +felt that it was perhaps my duty to speak that I was so miserable! But, +if it would simply make mischief and be of no use, I am only too glad to +feel that I may keep silence." + +"I'm glad you see it in that light," said Miss Vane briefly. "I want as +little as you do, Mr. Evandale, to see Enid kept out of her rightful +inheritance; but I am convinced that, if Enid told my brother what she +had heard, he would never believe her, that the excitement would make +him ill; there would be a family quarrel, and the whole thing would be +productive of no good result at all. If we get more evidence, or if one +of the guilty parties would confess, why, then it would be a different +matter." + +"I shall not mind seeing uncle Richard now," said Enid softly. + +"But you will not go back to Beechfield?" said Mr. Evandale. + +"No, indeed; she'll stay here," Miss Vane replied for her. "She'll stay +here until she is married; and I hope that that day may not be far off." + +"I hope not," said Maurice fervently. "Do you think that I may speak to +the General to-day?" + +"I should think so. But what about Hubert Lepel, Enid?" + +Enid flushed crimson. + +"If there is one thing more than another about which the General is +particular, it is the keeping of a promise," continued Miss Vane. "He +may say that he will hold you to your word." + +"He cannot," Enid answered, with lowered eyelids. "For, if what I have +been told is true, Hubert has broken his word to me--and so I am free." + +"She must be free; she did not love him," said Maurice Evandale +conclusively, as if that statement settled the question. + +"Ah, well, if love were all," Miss Vane began, but the opening of the +door interrupted her. "What is it, Hodges? Another telegram? Is it the +General again, I wonder?" + +She tore open the brown envelope with more anxiety than she liked to +show; her eyebrows went up, and her mouth compressed itself as she read +the words--first to herself, and then to Enid and the Rector. The +message was again from the General, and ran as follows-- + + "Hope Enid is safe. Cannot come myself because of + carriage-accident. Dick seriously injured; but doctor gives hope." + +"Oh, poor little Dick!" said Enid. "And I away from him!" + +Miss Vane glanced at the Rector, and read in his eyes what was in her +own mind--"If Dick should die, there would be no further perplexity." +Then both dropped their eyes guiltily, and hoped that Enid--dear, +innocent, loving Enid!--had not guessed what they were thinking. + +"At any rate," said Miss Vane, after a little pause, "you can do nothing +now; and it is just as well that we have all resolved to hold our +tongues." + +And then she went away to write some letters; and Enid was left alone +with Maurice Evandale. + +"My darling," said her lover, "are you sure that you are content and +happy now?" + +"Quite sure, Maurice--except that I think--I half think--that I ought +not to be married; I shall make such a bad wife to you if I am always +ailing and weak." + +"But you are not going to be ailing and weak, dearest--you are going to +be a strong woman yet. Did you not tell me how you conquered that +nervous inclination to give way last night after your interview with +Mrs. Vane? And did you not walk to the station and travel up to town in +the early morning without doing yourself a particle of harm? Believe me, +darling, your ill-health was in great part a figment got up by Mrs. Vane +for her own ends. You are perfectly well; and, when we are married, you +will be strong too. Do you believe me, Enid?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And are you sure yet whether you love me or not?" + +She smiled, and the color flooded her sweet face. And he, although he +knew well enough what she would say, pressed for an answer, and would +not be satisfied until it had been put into words. + +"Do you love me, Enid? Tell me, darling--'Yes' or 'No'?" + +And at last she answered very softly-- + +"I love you, Maurice, with all my heart and soul!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +Maurice Evandale was obliged to go to Beechfield that evening; but, +before he went, he explained his position more fully to Miss Vane than +he had thought it necessary to do with Enid. His father had left him an +ample income; he had no near relatives, and was able to look forward +with confidence to giving Enid a comfortable home. He wanted to marry +her as soon as possible; but, as Miss Vane pointed out to him, there was +no use in being in too great a hurry, for many things would have to be +settled before Enid's hand could be given in marriage. She herself had +always meant to leave Enid a fair share of her own wealth, and she +announced her intention of settling a considerable sum upon her at once. +If the General would do the same thing, Enid would be a bride with a +goodly dower. But Miss Vane was a little inclined to think that her +brother would be angry with the girl for leaving his house, and that he +might be difficult to manage. Mr. Evandale must be guided by +circumstances--so she said to him; and, if Dick was ill, and the General +anxious and out of temper, he had better defer his proposal for a week +or two. She promised that she would do her best to help him; and he knew +that he might rely on Enid's assurance of her love. + +Accordingly he went back to Beechfield; and Enid was left at Miss +Vane's, there to gain strength of mind and body in the pleasant +peaceable atmosphere of her house. + +Miss Vane did not give many parties or go much into society about this +time. With those whom she really loved she was always at her best; and +many of her associates would have been thoroughly astonished to see how +tender, how loving this worldly, cynical old woman, as they thought her, +could show herself to a girl like Enid Vane. She gave up many +engagements for Enid's sake, and lived quietly and as best suited her +young visitor. For Enid, although rapidly recovering, was not yet strong +enough to bear the excitement of London gaieties. Besides, Dick was +reported to be very ill, and during his illness Enid could not have +borne to go out to theatres and balls. + +The General had been driving to the station when the accident took +place. The horse had taken fright and grown unmanageable; the phaeton +had been nearly dashed to pieces; and Dick, who had been on the box +beside his father, had had a terrible fall. He had never spoken or been +conscious since; he lingered on from day to day in a state of complete +insensibility; and while he was in that state the General would not +leave him. Of Flossy nobody heard a word. The General wrote to his +sister, and sent kind messages to Enid, but did not mention Flossy. Aunt +Leo and Enid both wondered why. + +Enid had been in town nearly a week, when one morning a letter was +brought to her at the sight of which she colored deeply. She was +sitting at the luncheon-table with her aunt, and for a few minutes she +left the letter beside her plate unopened. + +"Won't you read your letter, dear?" said Miss Vane. + +"Thank you, aunt Leo." Then she took the letter and opened it; but her +color varied strangely as she read, and, when she had finished it, she +pushed it towards her aunt. "Will you read it?" she said quietly. "It +seems to me that he does not understand our position." + +The servants were not in the room, and she could talk freely. Aunt Leo +settled her eye-glasses on her nose, and looked at the letter. + +"Why, it's from Hubert!" she said breathlessly. + +Then she read it half aloud; and Enid winced at the sound of some of the +words. + +"My dearest Enid," Hubert had written--"I have just heard that you are +in town. If I could come to see you, I would; but you know, I suppose, +that I have been ill. I have had no letter from you for what seems an +interminable time. I must ask you to excuse more from me to-day--my hand +is abominably shaky! "Yours, + "H.L." + +The handwriting was certainly shaky; Miss Vane had some difficulty in +deciphering the crooked characters. + +"H'm!" she said, laying the letter on the table and looking inquiringly +at her niece. "What does he mean?" + +"He means that he still thinks me engaged to him," said Enid, the color +hot in her girlish cheeks. + +"Then you had better disabuse him of that notion, my dear, for you can't +be engaged to two people at once; and I have given my consent to your +marriage with Mr. Evandale." + +"Do you think," said Enid, in a half whisper, "that I have been +mistaken, and that Hubert will be--sorry?" + +"No, dear, I don't!" + +"Aunt Leo, is this report true about him and Miss West?" + +"What do you know about Miss West, Enid?" + +"Uncle Richard told me. She came to nurse Hubert when he was ill. Uncle +Richard seemed to think that very wrong of her; but I don't. I think it +was right, if she loved him. If Maurice were ill, I should like to go +and nurse him, whether he cared for me or not." + +"Child," said Miss Vane solemnly, "you are a simpleton! You don't know +what you are talking about! I have seen Cynthia West and talked to her, +and she is not a woman who, I should think, knows what true love is at +all. She is hard and careless and worldly, and singularly ill-mannered. +She is not the woman that Hubert would do well to marry." + +"What am I to say to him?" asked Enid, with her eyes on the tablecloth, +"if he says that he does not want to marry her--that he wants to marry +me?" + +"You must tell him the truth, my dear," said Miss Vane, rising briskly +from the table, and shaking out a fold of her dress on which some crumbs +had fallen--"namely, that you don't care a rap for him, but that you are +in love with the Beechfield parson; and if Hubert is a gentleman, he +will not press his claim. And to do Hubert justice, whatever may be his +faults, I believe that he generally acts like a gentleman." + +Miss Vane went away from the dining-room to dress for a drive and a +round of calls. Before long, Enid, who had refused to accompany her, was +left in the house alone; and then a vague desire began to take definite +shape in her mind. She would see Hubert for herself. She would claim her +own freedom, and tell him that he was free. He was well enough now to +listen to her, if he was well enough to write. She would go to him while +aunt Leo was out--that very afternoon. + +A hansom-cab made the matter very easy. She had almost a sense of +elation as she stood at the door of Hubert's sitting-room and knocked +her timid little knock, which had to be twice repeated before the door +was opened; and then a tall slight girl in black stood in the doorway +and asked her what she wanted. + +"I want to see Mr. Lepel," said Enid, blushing and hesitating. + +"Mr. Lepel has been ill." The girl's clear voice had a curious vibration +in it as she spoke. "Do you want to see him particularly?" + +Enid took courage and looked at her. The girl wore a black hat; her +dress was severely plain, and her face was pale. Enid thought there was +nothing remarkable about her--therefore that she could not be Cynthia +West. + +"I am his cousin," she explained simply, "and my name is Vane--Enid +Vane." + +A flash of new expression changed the girl's face at once. Not +remarkable--with those great dark eyes, and the lovely color coming and +going in the oval cheeks! Enid confessed her mistake to herself frankly. +The girl was remarkably handsome--it was a fact that could not be +gainsaid. Enid looked at her gravely, with a little feeling of repulsion +which she found it difficult to help. + +"Will you come in?" said Cynthia. "Mr. Lepel is in his room; but he +means to get up this afternoon. If you will kindly wait for a few +moments in his sitting-room, I am sure that he will be with you before +long. I will speak to his man Jenkins." + +She had ushered Enid into Hubert's front room, from which the untidiness +had disappeared. His artistic properties were displayed to great +advantage, and every vase was filled with flowers. It was plain that a +woman's hand had been at work. + +Enid glanced around her with curiosity. Cynthia pushed a chair towards +her, and waited until the visitor had seated herself. Then, repeating +the words, "I will speak to his man Jenkins," she prepared to leave the +room. + +Enid rose from her chair. + +"You are Miss West," she said--"Cynthia West?" + +"Cynthia Westwood," replied the girl, and looked sorrowfully yet proudly +into Enid's eyes. + +Her face was flushed, but Enid's had turned pale. + +"Will you stay and speak to me for a minute or two? I see that you were +going out----" + +"It does not matter; I need not go," said Cynthia, removing her hat and +laying it carelessly on one of the tables. "If you want to speak to +me----" + +Neither of them concluded her sentence. Each was conscious of great +embarrassment. + +For once in her life, Cynthia stood like a culprit; for she thought that +Enid loved Hubert Lepel, and that she--Cynthia--had withdrawn him from +his allegiance. It was Enid who broke the silence. + +"I wanted to see you," she said. "I came to see you more than to see +Hubert. I heard you were here." + +Cynthia looked up quickly. + +"You heard Mrs. Vane's opinion of me, I suppose?" It was bitterly +spoken. + +"My uncle told me--not Mrs. Vane," said Enid. "I should not believe a +thing just because Mrs. Vane said it--nor my uncle, for his opinions all +come from Mrs. Vane." + +Her expressions were somewhat vague; but her meaning was clear. Cynthia +flashed a grateful glance at her. + +"You mean," she said, holding her graceful head a trifle higher than +usual, "that you do not think that I am unwomanly--that I have disgraced +myself--because I came here to nurse Mr. Lepel in his illness?" + +"No! I should have done the same in your place--if I loved a man." + +The color mounted to the roots of Cynthia's hair. + +"You know that?" she said quickly. "That I--I love him, I mean? There is +no use in denying it--I do. There is no harm in it. I shall not hurt him +by loving him--as I shall love him--to the last day of my life." + +"No; I should be the last person to blame you," said Enid very gently, +"because I know what love is myself;" and then the clear color flamed +all over her fair face as it had flamed in Cynthia's. + +Cynthia bit her lip. + +"You do not think," she said, with the impetuous abruptness which might +have been ungraceful in a less beautiful woman, but was never unbecoming +to her, "that because I love him I want to take him away from those who +have a better right than I to his love? I learned to care for him +unawares; I had given him my love in secret long before--before he knew. +He knows it now; I cannot help his knowing. But I am not ashamed. I +should be ashamed if I thought that I could make him unfaithful to you." + +Enid looked at her, and admired. Cynthia's generosity was taking her +heart by storm. But for the moment she could not speak, and Cynthia went +on rapidly. + +"You do not know what he has been to me. I have had trouble and +misfortune in my life, and I have had kindness and good friends also; +but he--he was almost the first--he and you together, Miss Vane, +although you do not know what I mean perhaps. Do you remember meeting a +ragged child on the road outside your park gates, and speaking kindly to +her and giving her your only shilling? That was myself!" + +"You," cried Enid--"you that little gipsy girl! I remember that I could +not understand why I was sent away." Then she stopped short and looked +aside, fearing lest she had said something that might hurt. + +"I know," said Cynthia. "Your aunt--Miss Vane--was shocked to find you +talking to me, for she knew who I was. She sent you back to the house; +but before you went you asked Mr. Lepel to be good to me. He +promised--and he kept his word. Although I did not know it until long +afterwards, it was he who sent me to school for many years, and had me +trained and cared for in every possible way. I did not even know his +name; but I treasured up my memories of that one afternoon when I saw +him at Beechfield all through the years that I spent at school. I knew +your name; and I kept the shilling that you gave me, in remembrance of +your goodness. I have worn it ever since. See--it is round my neck now, +and I shall never part from it. And do you think that, after all these +years of gratitude and tender memory of your kindness, I would do you a +wrong so terrible as that of which Mrs. Vane accuses me? I would die +first! I love Hubert; but, if I may say so, I love you, Miss Vane, too, +humbly and from a distance--and I will never willingly give you a +moment's pain. I will be guided by what you wish me to do. If you tell +me to leave the house this day, I will go, and never see him more. You +have the right to command, and I will obey." + +"But why," said Enid slowly, "did you not think of all this earlier? +Why, when you were older, did you not remember that you--you had no +right----" + +She could not finish her sentence. + +"Because of his relationship to you, and his engagement to you?" said +Cynthia. "Oh, I see that I must tell you more! Miss Vane, I was +ungrateful enough to run away from the school at which he placed me, as +soon as my story became accidently known to my schoolfellows. I was then +befriended by an old musician, who taught me how to sing and got me an +engagement on the stage. When he died, I was reduced to great poverty. I +heard of Mr. Lepel at the theatre. He wrote plays, and had become +acquainted with my face and my stage-name; but he did not know that I +was the girl whom he had sent to school; and I did not know that he was +the gentleman whom I had seen with you at Beechfield. His face sometimes +seemed vaguely familiar to me; but I could not imagine why." + +"And he did not remember you?" + +"Not in the least. I applied to him for help to get work," said Cynthia, +flushing hotly at the remembrance; "and he found out that I had a voice +and helped me. I went to him because I heard of his kindness to others, +and I had read a story that he had written, which made me think that he +would be kind. And he was kind--so kind that, without design, without +any attempt to win my heart, I fell in love with him, Miss Vane, not +knowing that he was your cousin, not knowing that he was plighted to +another. You may not forgive me for it; I can only say that I do not +think that it was my fault; and I am sure that he--he was not to blame. +You may punish me as you will"--there was a rising sob in Cynthia's +throat--"but you must forgive him, and he will be true--true to you." + +She covered her face and burst into passionate tears. She could control +herself no longer; and at first she hardly felt the touch of Enid's hand +upon her arm, or heard the words of comfort that fell from Enid's lips. + +"You do not understand me," Enid was saying, when at last Cynthia could +listen, "and I want to make you understand. I have misjudged you--will +you forgive me? It has been very, very hard for you!" + +The tears were rolling down her own cheeks as she spoke. Cynthia +surrendered her hand to Enid's clasp, and listened as if she were in a +dream--a pleasant beautiful dream, too good to last. + +"We may perhaps be divided all our lives," said Enid, "because of things +that happened when we were children--things that you cannot help any +more than I. But, as far as it is possible, I want always to be your +friend. Think of me as your friend--will you not, Cynthia?" + +"If I may," said Cynthia. + +"I shall always remember you," Enid went on. "And I do not think that it +was wrong for you to love Hubert, or for him to love you--and he does +love you, does he not? You need not be afraid to tell me, because I came +here chiefly for one thing--to tell him that I cannot marry him, and to +ask him to set me free." + +"Not for my sake?" said Cynthia, trembling from head to foot. + +"Not for your sake, dear, but for my own," said Enid, taking both her +hands and looking straight into Cynthia's tear-filled eyes; "because I +have been as unfaithful to him as I think that he has been to me--and I +have given my heart away to some one else. I am going to marry Mr. +Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield." + +The two girls were standing thus, hand-in-hand, the eyes of each fixed +on the other's face, when the door of communication with the next room +was suddenly opened. Hubert stood there, leaning on Jenkins' arm--for he +was still exceedingly weak--and the start of surprise which he gave when +he saw Enid and Cynthia was uncontrollable. Cynthia dropped Enid's hand +and turned away; there was something in her face which she could not +bear to have seen. Enid advanced towards her cousin, and held out her +hand in quiet friendly greeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +"I have come to answer your note myself," said Enid to her cousin, as he +made his way with faltering steps into the room. "I hope that you are +better now?" + +Hubert had seldom felt himself in a more uncomfortable position. What +did this mean? Had Enid and Cynthia been comparing notes? He looked from +one to the other in helpless dismay, and scarcely answered Enid's +inquiry as he sank into the chair that Tom Jenkins wheeled forward for +him. Cynthia had turned her back upon the company, and was again putting +on her little black hat. It was plain that both she and Enid had been +crying. + +"You must have been very ill," said Enid, regarding him with +compassionate eyes. + +"For a few days I believe that I was rather bad; but I am all right +now," said Hubert, taking refuge in conventionalities. "My kind nurse +has introduced herself to you perhaps?" + +"We introduced ourselves to each other," said Enid; and then she walked +away from him to Cynthia. "Will you leave us together for a little +time?" she murmured. "You do not mind? I shall not be long; but I want +to make Hubert understand what I said to you just now." + +She had drawn Cynthia outside the door as she spoke. The two looked at +each other again gravely, and yet with a kind of pleasure and +satisfaction--then they kissed each other. Cynthia ran down-stairs; Enid +re-entered the drawing-room and closed the door. Mrs. Jenkins had +appeared on the scene with a tea-tray, which she arranged on a small +table at Hubert's elbow; and, till she had gone, Enid did not speak. She +sat down in a low arm-chair and observed her cousin steadily. He was +certainly very much changed. His hair was turning gray on the temples; +his eyes were hollow and haggard; he was exceedingly thin. There was an +air of gloom and depression about him which Enid had not noticed before. + +She gave him a cup of tea and took one herself before she would let him +speak of anything but commonplaces. He did not seem inclined to talk; +but, when she took away his cup, he laid a detaining hand on her arm, +and said-- + +"It is very good of you to come." + +"I would have come before if I had been able--and if you had wanted me." + +"You are always welcome," said Hubert. But his tone was languid, and his +eyes did not meet her own. + +"Hubert, are you well enough to have a little talk with me--a sort of +business conversation?" + +"Certainly, Enid. I am really quite well now." There was still no +alacrity in his reply. + +"And you wrote to me, saying that I had not written----" + +"And you had not--for a month or more," said he, smiling a little more +frankly into her face. "Was I wrong?" + +"Did you expect me to write?" + +"Yes, certainly. Why not?" + +"You did not think that I should believe what your sister has been +saying?" Enid asked. + +"Flossy? What does she say?" + +"Miss West has not told you? Of course she knows; for she was here when +Mrs. Vane and the General called." + +"I suppose that everything disagreeable has been kept from me," said +Hubert, after little pause. "I know that there is a pile of letters +which my nurses will not let me read. Tell me what has been going on." + +"I am sorry to have to say disagreeable things to you," said Enid +softly. "It will not make you ill again, will it, Hubert?" + +"Out with it! It won't matter!" said Hubert, in a rather impatient tone. +"What do you want to say?" + +"Nothing to make your pulse throb and your face flush in that manner," +she answered, sitting down beside him and laying her cool fingers on his +wrist. "Dear Hubert, I have no bad news for you, though I may say one or +two things that sound disagreeable. Please don't excite yourself in this +way, or I must go away." + +"No, no--you must speak out now; it will do me no harm. What is it?" + +"Flossy saw Miss West here. She was displeased by her presence. Uncle +Richard believed every word that his wife said, and was led to think +that Cynthia West was a wicked designing creature who wanted to marry +you. You can imagine what Florence would say and what uncle Richard +would believe." + +"I can indeed! And did she come here and say this to Cynthia?" + +"She said a great deal, I believe. She tried to make Cynthia go +away--Uncle Richard told me; and--shall I tell you everything, +Hubert?--he said that you would not be 'led astray' for very long, and +that I should find that you were true--true to me." + +"Enid, did you believe him?" + +"I don't know exactly what I believed. It seemed to me that Cynthia West +had done a very noble thing in coming to nurse you when you were ill." + +Hubert turned and seized her hands. + +"Heaven bless you for saying that, Enid! She saved my life." + +"And we should be grateful to her, and not malign her, should we not? +But it is only right, Hubert, that I should know the truth." + +"The truth? What is there to know?" said Hubert, relinquishing her hands +and frowning heavily. "Flossy is absurdly wrong and mistaken, and +Cynthia West is one of the noblest women in the world--that is all that +I have to say. When I am a little stronger, Enid, it will be better if +you will consent to marry me at once; then we can go away together and +spend the winter in Egypt or Algiers." + +He spoke hardily, determinedly. He had made up his mind to carry out his +sacrifice, if Enid desired it, at any cost. He had, as the General would +have said, returned to his allegiance. + +Enid looked at him with a keenness, an intentness, which struck him as +remarkable. + +"Do you want me to marry you?" she said. + +"Of course I do! Why else should I have asked you?" he returned, with +all a sick man's petulance. "I want to get the ceremony over as soon as +possible--as soon as you will consent. When shall it be!" + +"One moment, Hubert. Tell me first what I want to know. Is Flossy right +in saying that Cynthia loves you?" + +"You may be quite sure that Flossy is infernally wrong in anything she +says!" he answered. + +He had never spoken so roughly to her before. She drew back for a +second, and he immediately apologised. + +"I beg your pardon, Enid; I am sorry to be so irritable. Think of me as +a sick man still, and forgive me. But Flossy knows nothing of the +matter." + +"Not even that Cynthia cares for you?" + +A deep flush rose to his face. + +"You should not ask me. It is the last thing that I can tell," he said, +with the same sharpness of tone. + +"Then tell me another thing, Hubert. Do you not care for her?" + +"Yes--a great deal. She has been a kind friend--an excellent nurse--and +I am grateful to her. Enid, I do not like to think that you believe me +to be untrue to you." + +She took his hand in hers and kissed it--a movement which discomposed +him exceedingly. + +"I did not think for one moment that you would desert me, Hubert, if I +wanted you to perform what you had promised." + +"Enid, what do you mean? Of course I shall perform what I have promised. +Has Flossy been making you jealous and suspicious? My dear, believe me, +there is no occasion for you to be so. You are very dear to me, and I +will be faithful to you always. You shall never have cause to complain." + +"Yes, I know," she said gently. "You are very good, Hubert, and you +would not for the world do what you think to be a cruel thing. But would +it not be better for you to be perfectly open with me? If you care for +Cynthia West, would it not be better even for me that you should marry +the woman whom you love?" + +She looked at him and saw his face twitch. Then he shook his head. + +"This is folly, Enid, and I am really not strong enough to stand it. You +have no need to be troubled with doubts and fears, my little girl. +Cynthia West is as good and true as a woman can be; and I--I mean to +make you happy and do my duty as a man should do." + +Enid smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears. + +"Ah, Hubert, I am so glad that you say that!" she cried. Hubert looked +worried, tormented, anything but glad; but she went on: "I always +trusted you--always believed in you--and I was right. You would never be +untrue--you would never----" + +"For Heaven's sake, Enid, stop!" said Hubert faintly. "I can't--I can't +bear this sort of thing!" And indeed he looked so ghastly that she had +to find smelling-salts and bring him some cold water to drink before she +could go on. + +"I am very sorry," she said penitently, "and I will say what I have to +say very quickly, if you will let me. You will not acknowledge the +truth, I see, though it would be wiser if you would. You love Cynthia +West, and Cynthia loves you; and, though you are willing to keep your +word to me, you care for me only as a cousin and a friend. Is not that +really the truth?" + +"My dear Enid, you are developing a wonderful amount of imagination and, +I may say, of courage!" + +"I don't know about imagination," she said, smiling again; "but I think +that I have gained a great deal of courage since I saw you last. As you +will not set me free for your own sake, I must ask you to set me free +for mine. I cannot marry you, Hubert. Will you forgive me for breaking +my word?" + +Her eyes shone so brightly, her smile was so sweet, that Hubert looked +at her in amazement. He had never seen her half so beautiful. She was +transfigured; for love and happiness had done their work, and made her +lovelier than she had ever been in all her life before. + +"I am in earnest," she went on. "I have been false to you, Hubert +dear--and yet I never liked you so well as I like you now. I have given +my word to some one else--to some one that I love better--and I want to +know if you will forgive me and set me free." + +"Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready--anxious--to +marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far----" + +Enid laughed in his face. + +"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am +speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, +better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound." + +He caught her by the hands. + +"Really--truly--Enid? You love him?" + +"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom +I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart +and soul!"--and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy +smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement. + +"And are you happy?" + +"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now +acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia--is not that true?" + +"Enid, you are a witch!" + +"And she loves you?" + +He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of +tone, he said-- + +"I fear so, Enid." + +"You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked. + +"Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to +marry." + +Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own. + +"You mean because of my father?" she said, in a low voice. + +"Yes--because of your father." + +But he did not mean it in the sense that she attributed to his words. He +lay back in his chair, sighing heavily, and again growing very pale. + +"Hubert," said the girl, "I think you are wrong. Cynthia is not to blame +for her father's actions--it is not fair to punish the innocent for the +guilty." + +"My dear, I must tell you before you go on that Cynthia does not believe +her father guilty." + +"Not guilty? Oh, Hubert! But you think so, do you not?" + +He struggled with himself for a minute. + +"No, Enid," he said at last. + +Her face grew troubled and perplexed. + +"But the jury said that he was guilty! You think that they were wrong? +Perhaps some new evidence has been found! I shall be glad for Cynthia's +sake if her father is innocent." + +"Shall you, Enid?" + +"Yes; for it must be such a terrible thing for a girl to know that her +father has committed a great crime. She can never forget it; her whole +life must be overshadowed by the remembrance. I am so thankful to think +that my own dear father--although his end was tragic--lived a good and +honorable life. It would be awful for Cynthia if she believed her father +to be a wicked man!" + +Hubert turned away his face. It was terrible to him to hear her speak +thus. It seemed to him that, whenever an impulse came upon him to speak +the truth, she herself made the truth appear unspeakable. Better perhaps +to leave the matter where it stood. It was a mere question of +transferring a burden from Cynthia's strong to Enid's feeble shoulders. + +"Whether Westwood was really innocent or guilty," he said, with an +effort, "is not for us to decide--now." + +"No; and therefore we must do our best for Cynthia and for ourselves," +said Enid, with sudden resolution. "I did not know before that there was +even a doubt about his guilt; but, if so, our way is all the clearer, +Hubert. You are not hesitating because you do not want to marry a +convict's daughter, are you?" + +"Not at all." + +"Then it is because you are afraid that we--that I perhaps--shall be +hurt? I know that Flossy and the General feel strongly on the point. +But, Hubert, I absolve you--I give you leave. In my father's name I +speak; for I am sure that in another world where all things are known +he sees as I do--that the innocent must not be punished for the guilty. +If you love Cynthia, Hubert, marry her; and I will give you my best +wishes for your happiness. I am sure that it should be so--else why +should God have permitted you to love each other?" + +"Enid, you are an angel!" cried Hubert. + +He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt tears hot upon +her fingers, and knew that they came from his eyes. She bent down and +kissed his forehead. + +"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear +you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that +I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble, +that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad +together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think +of each other lovingly, shall we not?" + +"I shall think of you--gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down +upon his hands--"as of an angel from heaven!" + +"Oh, no--only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to +you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye." + +He would have detained her--perhaps to say more words of +gratitude--perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from +his clasping hand and quietly left the room. She knew that he was better +alone. She went down-stairs, let herself out of the house, and met +Cynthia on the steps. The girl was just returning after a hurried walk +round and round the square. + +"Go to him," said Enid softly. "He wants help and comfort, and he wants +your love. You will be very happy by-and-by." + +And Cynthia went. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's +chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some +fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly +justified. + +Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room. + +It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk +again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon +his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he +had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the +sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight +that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side. + +"You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him. + +"Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited. + +"I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed." + +He caught her hand. + +"Not yet, Cynthia--I want to say something." + +"To-morrow," she suggested. + +"No, not to-morrow--to-night. I am quite well able to talk. Cynthia, +where is your father?" + +The question was utterly unexpected. + +"My father?" she echoed. "Why do you want to know?" + +"Because I have an impression that he is in England, and that you have +seen him lately." + +"If I had," said Cynthia tremulously, "I should be bound not to tell any +one." + +"Ah, that is true! And you would not trust even me," he remarked, with a +great sigh. "Well, I suppose that you are right!" + +"I trust you perfectly," she said. + +"You have no reason to do so. Cynthia, do you know why Enid Vane came +to-day?" + +"Yes,--she told me." + +"She is engaged to Mr. Evandale. She has set me free." + +There was a silence. Cynthia did not move; and at last Hubert said, in a +stifled voice-- + +"I love one woman, and one only. What can I say to her?" + +"Nothing but that," said Cynthia softly; and then she turned and kissed +him. + +"I dare not say even that," he muttered. + +"Why not? You told me once of an obstacle--Enid Vane was the obstacle, +was she not?" + +"One obstacle. But there was another." + +"Another!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What could that be?" + +She was kneeling beside him, her hand locked fast in his, her arm upon +his shoulder. A sort of sob broke from his lips. + +"Oh, my darling," he said, "I am the last man that you ought ever to +have loved!" + +"But I love you now, Hubert." + +"I am a villian, Cynthia--a mean miserable cur! Can't you accept that +fact, and leave me without asking why?" + +"No, I cannot, Hubert; I don't believe it." + +"It is no good telling me that--I know myself too well. Believe all that +I say, Cynthia, and give me up. Don't make me tell you why." + +"I shall always love you," she whispered, "whether you are bad or good." + +"Suppose that I had injured any one that was very dear to you--saved +myself from punishment at his expense? I daren't go any farther. Is +there nothing that you can suppose that I have done--the very hardest +thing in the whole world for you to forgive? You can't forgive it, I +know; to tell you means to cut myself off from you for the rest of my +life; and yet I cannot make up my mind to take advantage of your +ignorance. I have resolved, Cynthia, that I will not say another word +of--of love to you--until you know the truth." + +She gazed at him, her lips growing white, her eyes dilating with sudden +terror. + +"There is only one thing," she said at length, "that I--that I----" + +"That you could not forgive. I am answered, Cynthia; it is that one +thing that I have done." + +He spoke very calmly, but his face was white with a pallor like that of +death. She remained motionless; it seemed as if she could scarcely dare +to breathe, and her face was as pale as his own. + +"Hubert," she said presently, only just above her breath, "you must be +saying what you do not mean!" + +"I would to God that I did not mean it!" he exclaimed, bestirring +himself and trying to rise. "Get up, Cynthia; I cannot lie here and see +you kneeling there. Rather let me kneel to you; for I have wronged +you--I have wronged your father beyond forgiveness. It was I--I who +killed Sydney Vane!" + +He was standing now; but she still knelt beside the sofa, with her face +full of terror. + +"Hubert," she said caressingly, "you do not know what you say. Sit down, +my darling, and keep quiet. You will be better soon." + +"I am not raving," he answered her; "I am only speaking the truth. God +help me! All these years I have kept the secret, Cynthia; but it is +true--I swear before God that it is true! It was I who killed Sidney +Vane. Now curse me if you will, as your father did long years ago." + +He fell back on the sofa, and buried his face in his hands with a moan +of intolerable pain. + +There came a long silence. Cynthia did not move; she also had hidden her +face. + +"Oh," she said at last, "I do not know what to do! My poor father--my +poor father! Think of the shame and anguish that he went through! Oh, +how could you bear to let him suffer so?" And then she wept bitterly and +unrestrainedly; and Hubert sat with his head bowed in his hands. + +But after a time she became calm; and then, without looking up, she +said, in a low voice-- + +"I should like to hear it all now. Tell me how it happened." + +He started and removed his hands from his face. It was so haggard, so +miserable, that Cynthia, as she glanced at him, could not forbear an +impulse of pity. But she averted her head and would not look at him +again. + +"You must tell me everything now," she said. + +And so he told the story. He found it hard to begin; but as he went on, +a certain relief came to him, in spite of shame and sorrow, at the +disburthening himself of his secret. He did not spare himself. He told +the tale very fully, and, little by little, it seemed to Cynthia that +she began to understand his life, his character, his very soul, as she +had never understood them before. She understood, but she did not love. + +The confession left her cold; her father's wrongs had turned her heart +to stone. + +"And now," he said, when he had finished his story, "you can fetch your +father and clear him in the eyes of the world as soon as you like. I +will take any punishment that the law allots me. But I think that I +shall not have to bear it long. Even a life sentence ends one day, thank +God!" + +Then Cynthia spoke. + +"You think," she said very coldly, "that I shall tell your story--that I +shall denounce you to the police?" + +"As you please, Cynthia," he answered, with a sadness born of despair. + +"You throw the burden on me!" she said. "You have thrown your burdens on +other people's shoulders all your life, it seems. But now you must bear +your own." She rose and moved away from him. "I shall not accuse you. +Your confession is safe enough with me. You forget that I--I loved you +once. I cannot give you up to justice even for my father's sake. You +must manage the matter for yourself." + +"Cynthia," he cried hoarsely--"Cynthia, be merciful!" + +"Had you any mercy for my father?" she asked him, looking at him with +eyes in which the reproach was terrible to his inmost soul. "Did you +ever think what he had to bear?" Her hand was on the door. "I am going +now," she said--"I am going to my father; I have learned the place in +which he lives. But I shall not tell him what you have just told me. +Justify him to the world if you like; till that is done, I will never +speak to you again." + +"Cynthia--Cynthia!" cried the wretched man. + +He rose from the sofa and stretched out his arms blindly towards her. +But she would not relent. + +As she left the room, he fell to the floor--insensible for the second +time that day. She heard the crashing fall--she knew that he was in +danger; but her heart was hardened, and she would not look back. The +only thing she did was to call Jenkins before she left the house and +send him to his master. And then she went out into the street, and said +to herself that she would never enter the house again. + +Jenkins went up to the drawing-room, and found Mr. Lepel lying on the +floor. He and his wife managed with some difficulty to get him back to +bed. Then they sent for the Doctor. But, when the Doctor came, he shook +his head, and looked very serious over Hubert's state. A relapse had +taken place; he was delirious again; and no one could say whether he +would recover from this second attack. Cynthia was asked for at once; +but Cynthia was nowhere to be found. + +"She will come back, no doubt, sir," Jenkins said. + +"I hope she will," the Doctor answered, "for Mr. Lepel's chances are +considerably lessened by her absence." + +But the night passed, and the next day followed, and the next; but +Cynthia never came. + +In the meantime there was one person in the house who knew more of her +than she chose to say. Miss Sabina Meldreth had been keeping her eye, by +Mrs. Vane's orders, upon Cynthia West. She had listened at the door +during the conversation between Enid and Hubert, but without much +result. Their voices had been subdued, and she had gained nothing for +her pains. But it was somewhat different during the interview between +Cynthia and Hubert. The emotion of the two speakers had been rather too +difficult to repress. Some few of Hubert's words, as well as Cynthia's +passionate sobs, had reached her ears; and Cynthia's last sentences, +spoken in a clear penetrating voice, had not been lost on her. She was +behind the folding-door between the two rooms when Cynthia made her +exit. Sabina Meldreth's heart beat with excitement. Miss West would go +to her father, would she? Then she, Sabina, would follow her--would +track the felon to his hiding-place! The hint that Hubert could clear +him if he would was lost upon her in the delight of this discovery. She +could not afford to miss this opportunity of pleasing Mrs. Vane and +earning three hundred pounds. She followed Cynthia down-stairs, seized a +hat from a peg in the hall, and walked out into the street. + +It was already dark, but the girl's tall graceful figure was easily +discernible at some little distance. Miss Meldreth followed her +hurriedly; she was determined to lose no chance of discovering Westwood +and delivering him up to the authorities. + +Down one street after another did she track the convict's daughter. +Cynthia went through quiet quarters--if she had ventured into a crowded +thoroughfare, she would soon have been lost to view. But she had no +suspicion that she was being pursued, or she might have been more +careful. In a quiet little court on the north side of Holborn she +presently came to a halt. There was a dingy little house with "Lodgings +to Let" on a card in the window, and at the door of this house she +stopped and gave three knocks with her knuckles. In a few moments the +door was opened, and she stepped in. Sabina could not see who admitted +her. + +She waited for some time. A light appeared after a while in an upper +window, and one or two shadows crossed the white linen blind. Sabina +went a little higher up the court and watched. Shadows came +again--first, the shadow of a woman with a hat upon her head--ah, that +was Miss West!--next that of a man--nearer the window and more distinct. +Sabina thought that she recognised the slight stoop of the shoulders, +the stiff and halting gait. + +"I've caught you at last, have I, Mr. Reuben Dare!" she said to herself, +with a chuckle, as she noted the number of the house and the name of the +court. "Well, I shall get three hundred pounds for this night's work! +I'll wait a bit and see what happens next." + +What happened next was that the lights were extinguished and that the +house seemed to be shut up. + +"Safe for the night!" said Sabina, chuckling to herself. "I won't let +the grass grow under my feet this time. I'll tell the police to-morrow +morning, and I'll write to Mrs. Vane as well. He shan't escape us now!" + +She retraced her steps to Russell Square, and at once indited a letter +to Mrs. Vane with a full account of all that she had seen and heard. She +slipped out to post it that very night, and lay down with the full +intention of going to Scotland Yard the next morning. But in the morning +she was delayed for an hour only; but that hour was fatal to her plans. +When the police visited the house in Vernon Court, they found that the +rooms were empty, and that Cynthia and her father had disappeared. +Nobody knew anything about them; and the police retired in an +exceedingly bad humor, pouring anathemas upon Sabina's head. But Sabina +did not care; she had received news which had stupefied her for a time +and hindered her in the execution of her designs--little Dick Vane was +dead. + +The child had never rallied from the accident which had befallen him. +For several days and nights he had lain in a state of coma; and then, +still unconscious, he had passed away. His watchers scarcely knew at +what moment he ceased to breathe; even the General, who had seldom left +his side, could not tell exactly when the child died. So peacefully the +little life came to a close that it seemed only that his sleep was +preternaturally long. And with him a long course of perplexity and +deceit seemed likely also to have its end. + +Mrs. Vane had disappointed and displeased the General during the boy's +illness; she had steadily refused to nurse him--even to see him, towards +the end. The General was an easy and indulgent husband, but he noticed +that his wife seemed to have no love for the child who was all in all to +him. The worst came when Flossy refused to look at the boy's dead face +when he was gone. The General reproached her for her hardness of heart, +and declared bitterly that the child had never known a mother's love. +And Flossy did not easily forgive the imputation, although she professed +to accept it meekly, and to excuse herself by saying that her nerves +were too delicate to bear the shock of seeing a dead child. + +Troubles seemed to heap themselves upon the General's head. His boy had +gone; Enid, whom he tenderly loved, had left his house; Hubert, to whom +also he was much attached, lay ill again, and was scarcely expected to +recover. By the time the funeral was over, the General had worked +himself up to such a state of nervous anxiety, that it was felt by his +friends that some immediate change must be made in his manner of life. +And here a suggestion of Flossy's became unexpectedly useful--she +proposed that the General should go to his sister's for a time, and that +she should stay at Hubert's lodging. + +It was not that she cared very much for her brother, or that she was +likely to prove a good nurse, but that she was afraid, from what Sabina +said, that Hubert might be doing something rash--making confession +perhaps, or taking Cynthia West into his confidence. If she were on the +spot, she felt that she could hinder any such rash proceeding with +Sabina's help. + +But Sabina was not to the fore. When she heard that Mrs. Vane was coming +to town, she threw up her engagement and went back to her aunt's at +Camden Town. A trained nurse took her place, and Mrs. Vane lodged in the +house. + +Contrary to the doctor's expectations, Hubert survived the crisis of his +fever, and passed at last into the convalescent stage; though very weak, +he was pronounced to be out of danger, and he began to grow stronger +every day. But, as every one who had known him in happier days had +reason to remark, he bore himself like an utterly broken-hearted, +broken-spirited man. It seemed as if he would never hold up his head +again--all hope went from him when Cynthia left his side. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +Cynthia had, as Sabina suspected, gone straight to her father when she +left Russell Square. Some time before he had let her know that he was +still in England, and had sent her his address, warning her however not +to visit him unless she was obliged to do so. On this occasion she had +almost forgotten his warning; she went to him as a child often goes to +its parents, more for comfort than for absolute protection; and he was +astonished, as well as alarmed, when she flung herself into his arms and +wept on his shoulder, calling him now and then by all sorts of endearing +names, but refusing to explain to him the reason of her visit or of her +grief. + +"It's not that man that you're fond of, is it, my dearie? He hasn't +played you false, has he?" + +"No, father, no--not in the way you mean." + +"He ain't worse--dying or anything?" + +"Oh, no!"--with a sudden constriction of the heart, which might have +told her how dear Hubert was to her still. + +"Then you've quarrelled?" + +"I suppose we have," said Cynthia, with an unnatural hysterical laugh. +"Oh, yes--we have quarrelled, and we shall never see each other any +more!" + +"In that case, my girl, you'd better cast in your lot with me. Shall we +leave England to-morrow?" + +Cynthia was silent for a moment. + +"Is it safer for you to go or to stay, father?" + +"Well, it's about equal," said Westwood cheerfully. "They're watching +the ports, I understand; so maybe I should have a difficulty in getting +off. On the other hand, I'm pretty certain that the landlady here +suspects me; and I thought of making tracks early to-morrow morning, +Cynthia, my dear, if you have no objection to an early start." + +"Anything you please, dear father." + +"We're safest in London, I think," said Westwood thoughtfully; "but I +think that I shall try to get out of the country as soon as I can. I am +afraid it is no good to follow up my clue, Cynthia; I can't find out +anything more about Mrs. Vane." + +Cynthia gave a little shiver, and then clung to him helplessly; she +could not speak. + +"I've sometimes thought," her father continued, "that your young +man--Mr. Lepel--knew more than he chose to say. I've sometimes wondered +whether--knowing me to be your father and all that, Cynthia--there might +not be a chance of getting him to tell all the truth, supposing that I +went to him and threw myself on his--his generosity, so to speak? Do you +think he'd give me up, Cynthy?" + +"No, father--I don't think he would." + +"It might be worth trying. A bold stroke succeeds sometimes where a +timid one might fail. He's ill, you say, still, isn't he?" + +Cynthia thought of the fall that she had heard as she left the room. + +"Yes," she answered almost inaudibly; "he has been very ill, and he is +not strong yet." + +"And you've left him all the same?" said her father, regarding her +curiously. "There must have been something serious--eh, my lass?" + +"Oh, father, don't ask me!" + +"Don't you care for him now then, my girl?" said Westwood, with more +tenderness than he usually showed. + +"I don't know--I don't know! I think I--I hate him; but I cannot be +sure." + +"It's his fault then? He's done something bad?" + +"Very bad!" cried poor Cynthia, hiding her face. + +"And you can't forgive him?" + +"Not--not till he has made amends!" said the girl, with a passionate +sob. + +Her father sat looking at her with a troubled face. + +"If your mother hadn't forgiven me many and many a time, Cynthia," he +said at last, "I should have gone to destruction long before she died. +But as long as ever she lived she kept me straight." + +"She was your wife," said Cynthia, in a choked voice. "I am not Hubert's +wife--and I never shall be now. Never mind, father; we were right to +separate, and I am glad that we have done it. Now will you tell me where +you are thinking of going, or if you have made any plans?" + +Westwood shook his head. + +"I've got no plans, my dear--except to slip out at the door, early +to-morrow morning. Where I go next I am sure I do not know." + +Cynthia resolutely banished the thought of her own affairs, and set +herself to consider possibilities. Her mind reverted again and again to +the Jenkins family. Their connection with Hubert made it seem a little +dangerous to have anything to do with them at present; and yet Cynthia +was inclined to trust Tom Jenkins very far. He was thoroughly honest and +true, and he was devoted to her service; but, after some reflection, she +abandoned this idea. If she and her father were to be together, she had +better seek some place where her own face was unknown and her father's +history forgotten. After a little consideration, she remembered some +people whom she had heard of in the days of her engagement at the +Frivolity. They let lodgings in an obscure street in Clerkenwell; and, +as they were quiet inoffensive folk, Cynthia thought that she and her +father might be as safe with them as elsewhere. She did not urge her +father to leave England at present; for she had a vague feeling that she +ought not to cut him off from the chance--a feeble chance, but still a +chance--of being cleared by Hubert Lepel's confession. She had not much +hope; and yet it seemed to her possible that Hubert might choose to tell +the truth at last, and that she could but hope that, having confessed to +her, he might also confess to the world at large, and show that Westwood +was an innocent and deeply injured man. + +She stayed the night, sleeping on a little sofa in the sitting-room; but +early the next day they went out together, making one of the early +morning "flittings" to which Westwood was accustomed; and Cynthia took +her father to his new lodgings in Clerkenwell. + +For some days she did not go out again. Excitement and the shock of +Hubert's confession had for once disorganised her splendid health. She +felt strangely weak and ill, and lay in her bed without eating or +speaking, her face turned to the wall, her head throbbing, her hands and +feet deathly cold. Westwood watched her anxiously and wanted her to have +a doctor; but Cynthia refused all medical advice. She was only worn out +with nursing, she said, and needed a long rest; she would be better +soon. + +One day when she had got up, but had not yet ventured out of doors, her +father came into her room with a bunch of black grapes which he had +brought for her to eat. + +"How good you are, father!" Cynthia said gratefully. + +She took one to please him but she did not seem inclined to eat. She was +sitting in a wooden chair by the window, looking pale and listless. +There were dark shadows under her eyes and a sad expression about her +mouth; one would scarcely have known her again for the brilliant beauty +who had carried all before her when she sang in London drawing-rooms not +three months earlier. + +Her father looked at her with sympathetic attention. + +"You want cockering up," he said, "and coddling and waiting on. When +once we get out of this darned old country, you shall see something +different, my girl! I've got money enough to do the thing in style when +we reach the States. You shall have all you want there, and no mistake!" + +"Thank you, father," said the girl, with a listless smile. + +"I've had a long walk to-day," Westwood said, after a pause, "and I've +been into what you would call danger, my girl. Ah, that rouses you up a +bit, doesn't it? I've been to Russell Square." + +"To Russell Square." Cynthia's face turned crimson at once. "Oh, father, +did you see--did you hear----" + +"Did I hear of Mr. Lepel? That's what I went for, my beauty! In spite of +your quarrel, I thought you'd maybe like to hear how he was getting on. +I talked to the gardener, a bit; Mr. Lepel's been ill again, you know." + +"A relapse?" said Cynthia quickly. + +"Yes, a relapse. They've had a hospital-nurse for him, I hear. He's not +raving now, they say, but very weak and stupid-like." + +"Have none of his friends come to nurse him?" said Cynthia. + +"I don't know. The gardener wouldn't hear that, maybe. He said there'd +been a death in the family--some child or other. Would that be General +Vane's little boy, do you suppose?" + +"It might be." + +"Then Miss Vane will be the heiress. She and Mr. Lepel----" He hesitated +for a moment, and Cynthia looked up. + +"Miss Vane is going to marry Mr. Evandale father. She is not engaged to +Mr. Lepel now." + +"Oh! Not engaged to Mr. Lepel now? Then what the dickens," said Westwood +very deliberately, "did you and Mr. Lepel quarrel about, I should like +to know?" + +"I can't tell you, father. Nothing to do with that, however." + +"I expect it was all a woman's freak. I had made up my mind for you to +marry that fellow, Cynthia. I rather liked the looks of him. I'd have +given you a thumping dowry and settled him out in America, if you'd +liked. It would have been better than the life of a newspaper-man in +London any day." + +Cynthia did not answer. Her face wore a look of settled misery which +made Westwood uncomfortable. He went on doggedly. + +"When he gets better, I think I shall go and see him about this. I've no +mind to see my girl break her heart before my eyes. You know you're fond +of him. Why make such a mystery of it? Marry him, and make him sorry for +his misdeeds afterwards. That's my advice." + +Cynthia's hands began to tremble in her lap. She said nothing however, +and Westwood did not pursue the subject. But a few days later she asked +him a question which showed what was weighing on her mind. + +"Father, what do you think about forgiveness? We ought to forgive those +that have injured us, I suppose? They always said so at St. +Elizabeth's." + +"Up to a certain point, I think, my girl. It's no good forgiving them +that are not sorry for what they've done. It would go to my heart not to +punish a rascal that robbed me and laughed in my face afterwards, you +know. But, if I've reason to think that he's repented and tried to make +amends, why, then, I think a man's a fool who doesn't say, 'All right, +old fellow--try again and good luck to you!'" + +"Make amends! Ah, that is the test!" said Cynthia, in a very low voice. + +"Well, it is and it isn't," said her father sturdily. "Making amends is +a very difficult matter sometimes. The best way sometimes is to put all +that's been bad behind you, and start again fresh without meddling with +the old affairs. Of course it's pretty hard to tell whether a man's +repentant or whether he is not." + +He knew very well that she was thinking of Hubert Lepel, and was +therefore all the more cautious and all the more gentle in what he said. +For he had gone over to Hubert's side in the absence of any precise +knowledge as to what the quarrel had been about. "A woman's sure to be +in the wrong!" he said to himself--hence his advice. + +"But, if one is sure--quite sure--that a man repents," said Cynthia +falteringly, "or, at least, that he is sorry, and if the wrong is not so +much to oneself, but to somebody else that is dear to one, then----" + +"If you care enough to worry about the man, forgive him, and have done +with it!" said her father. "Now look here, Cynthy--let's have no beating +about the bush! I think I know pretty well what's happening. Mr. Lepel +knows something about that murder business--I am pretty sure of that. +You think, rightly or wrongly, that he could have cleared me if he had +tried. Well, maybe so--maybe not; I can't tell. But, my dear, I don't +want you to bother your head about me. If you're fond of the fellow, you +needn't let my affairs stand in your way. Why, as a matter of fact, I'm +better off now than I should ever have been in England; so what seemed +to be a misfortune has turned out to my advantage. I'm content enough. +Mr. Lepel has held his tongue, you say"--though Cynthia had not uttered +a single word; "but I reckon it was for his sister's sake. And, though +she's a bad lot, I don't see how a man could tell of his sister, +Cynthy--I don't indeed. So you go back to Mr. Lepel and tell him not to +bother himself. I can take care of myself now, and all this rubbish +about clearing my character may as well be knocked on the head. As soon +as I'm out of the country, I don't care a rap! You tell that to Mr. +Lepel, my beauty, and make it up with him. I wouldn't for the world that +you should be unhappy because I've been unfortunate." + +This was a long speech for Westwood; and Cynthia came and put her hands +on his shoulders and laid her cheek to his long before he had finished. + +"Dear father," she said, "you are very good and very generous!" + +"Confess now, Cynthy--you love him, don't you?" said Westwood, with +unusual gentleness. + +"I am afraid I do, father," she said, crying as she spoke. + +"Then be faithful to him, my lass, like your mother was to me." + +They said no more. But Cynthia brooded over her father's words for the +next three days and nights. Then she came to him one day with her hat +and cloak on, as if she were going for a walk. + +"Father," she began abruptly, "do you allow me to go to Hubert--to see +him, I mean?" + +"Of course I do, my dear." + +"Although you believe what you said--and what I did not say--that he +could have cleared you if he had liked?" + +"Yes, my dear--if you love him." + +"Yes, I love him," said Cynthia sadly. + +"I'm going to sail next week; he'll never be troubled by me again," said +her father. "You can either stay with him, Cynthia, or he can come out +with us. Out there we can all forget what's over and done. You go to him +and tell him so at once." + +He kissed her on the forehead with unaccustomed solemnity. Cynthia flung +her arms round his neck and gave him a warm embrace. The eyes of both +father and daughter were wet as they said good-bye. + +Cynthia knew nothing of Mrs. Vane's visit to London. She expected to +meet a trained nurse only, and the Jenkins--Sabina Meldreth and the +doctor perhaps beside, but no one else. She set forth at an hour which +would enable her to reach the house when Hubert was likely to be up--at +least, if he were able to leave his bed. She did not know what she was +going to say to him--what line she was about to take. She only knew that +she could not bear to be away from him any longer, and that love and +forgiveness were the two thoughts uppermost in her mind. + +She was not aware that her father had considered it unfit for her to go +alone to Russell Square. He had followed her all the way from +Clerkenwell, and was in the square immediately behind herself. When she +mounted the steps and rang the bell, he crossed the road and walked +along the pavement by the gardens in the middle of the square. Here he +fancied that he should be unobserved. He saw the door opened; he saw +Cynthia making her inquiries of the servant. Then she went in, and the +door was shut. + +He waited for some time. Presently a man, whom he knew to be the +faithful Jenkins, appeared on the steps of the house and looked about +him. Then he crossed the road and advanced to Westwood, who was leaning +against the railings. + +"Mr. Reuben Dare, I think?" he said, touching his hair respectfully. +Westwood stared at the sound of that name. "Miss West and Mr. Lepel +wants to know if you will kindly come up-stairs. They have a word or two +to say, and they hope that you will not fail to come." + +Westwood smiled to himself--a rather peculiar smile. + +"All right," he said; "if they want me to come, I'll come. But I think +they had both better have let me stay away." + +Nevertheless he followed Jenkins to the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +The door had been opened to Cynthia by a strange servant. She asked if +Mr. Lepel was at home--a conventionalism of which she immediately +repented. Was he well enough to see anybody, at least? she asked. + +The girl did not know, but asked her to walk inside. Mr. Lepel was +better; he was dressed every day and sat in the drawing-room; but he had +not seen any visitors as yet. He was in the drawing-room now, she +thought, and he was alone. + +"I will go up," said Cynthia decidedly. "You need not announce me. I +will go myself; he knows me very well." + +The girl fell back doubtfully; but Cynthia's tone was so resolute, her +air so assured, that there was nothing for it but to give way. Besides +Mrs. Vane was out, and nobody had said what was to be done in case of +visitors. + +Cynthia went in very quietly. Hubert was lying on a sofa in the darkest +corner of the room. The blinds were partially closed; but she could see +his face, and she thought at first that he was asleep. His eyes were +closed, his hands were stretched at his sides; his attitude was +expressive of the utmost langour and weariness. She came a little nearer +and looked at him closely. His frame was sadly wasted, and there was an +expression of suffering and melancholy upon his face that touched her +deeply. She drew nearer and nearer to the sofa; but he did not look up +until she was almost close to him. Then he opened his eyes. She cried +"Hubert!" and dropped on her knees beside him, so as to bring her face +upon a level with his own. She put her arms around him and kissed his +cheek. + +"Oh, Hubert," she said, "I could not stay away! I love you, my +darling--I love you in spite of all! Will you forgive me for being so +cruel when I saw you last?" + +She felt him tremble a little. + +"Cynthia!" he said; and then with a sudden gesture he threw his arm +around her, rested his head upon her shoulder, and burst into +tears--tears of weakness in part, but tears also of love, of penitence, +of almost unbearable relief. + +She held him close to her, kissing his dark head from time to time, and +calling him by fond, caressing names. But for some minutes he did not +seem to be able or to care to speak. She caught the word "Forgive!" once +or twice between his gasps for breath; but she could distinguish nothing +more. + +"Darling," she said at last, "you will do yourself harm if this goes on. +Be calm, and let us talk together a little time. Yes, I forgive you, if +I must say so before anything else. There, there! Ah, my own love, how +could I have left you so long? I was cruel and unkind!" + +"No, Cynthia--no! I never thought that I should see you again," he said +brokenly. "Don't leave me again--just yet." + +"I will never leave you, if you like," she murmured softly. + +"Never, Cynthia?" + +"So long as we both do live. You know what I mean?" + +"I daren't think. You don't mean that you will now--now become----" + +"Your wife? Yes, if you will have me, Hubert. There is no barrier +between us now." + +"Your father?" he murmured, looking at her with weary wistful eyes. + +"My father sent me to you to-day. No, darling, I have not told him." + +"I wish to Heaven you had, Cynthia!" + +"What! I betray your confidence? No, I could not do that. But he had +some notion already, Hubert. He told me that he suspected you--or your +sister--some time ago; and he said to me to-day that he believed that +you could have cleared him if you had liked." + +"And what did you say? I wish that you had found it in your heart to +tell him everything you knew." + +"I could not do that. But I did not deny what he had said!" and then she +told him all that she remembered of her father's words. + +"His generosity crushes me to the earth!" said Hubert hoarsely. "I must +tell him the whole story, and let him decide." + +"He has decided." + +"I cannot accept that decision. Since I have been lying here, Cynthia, +and since you left me, I have seen it all as it appeared in your eyes. I +have wondered at my own cowardice; and I hope--I trust that I have +repented of it. It is time that I did, Cynthia, for I believe that I am +a dying man." + +"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him passionately. "You will get better +now--you must get better--for my sake!" + +"I wish I could, my darling--I wish I could!" + +"Why have you such gloomy thoughts? You are depressed; you have wanted +me. I shall soon make you well. I shall take you away from England to +some warm bright country where you will have nothing to do but be happy +and grow quite strong; and I will take care of you, and make up to you +if I can for everything that you have lost." + +"Yes, if one had not a conscience," said Hubert, with a faint sad smile, +"one could be very happy, could one not? But you forget; you told me +before that I must make amends. My darling, there is only one course +open to me now." + +"Hubert!" She knew by instinct what course he meant to take. + +"We are going to have the whole truth told now," he went on softly. "And +what a relief it will be! My God, I wonder that I could bear the burden +so long! For I have suffered, Cynthia, though not as your father has. I +am going now to tell the truth and bear the penalty; there is no other +way." + +"There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak +bravely. "It was a duel." + +"Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling +what the punishment will be; and public feeling will--very rightly--be +against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have +cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to +pieces if they can get hold of me!" + +"They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all +for your sister's sake----" + +"I want to save Flossy, Cynthia. I think I can shield her still." + +"I do not think that my father will shield her, Hubert. He knows." + +"She must be shielded, if possible, dear, for the old General's sake. +What a fool I was not to prevent that marriage! Well, it can't be helped +now. But one thing I can do--I can exonerate your father, and confess +that I shot Sydney Vane, without a word about my sister. That must be +so, Cynthia. And your father must be silent." + +"You will deprive yourself of your one excuse," said Cynthia quietly. + +"I know. I cannot help it. I must stand forth to the world as a brutal +murderer--as once your father did, my Cynthia. It is only right and +just. They must sentence me as they please. But it will not be for long; +I shall probably not come out of prison. But, if I do----" + +Cynthia burst into tears. + +"I can't bear it--I can't bear it!" she cried. "My father is right--he +has got over the worst of it and outlived all that was hard. It would be +terrible for you! How could you bear it--and how could I?" + +"You could bear it if you thought it brought me happiness, could you +not? I know I am selfish, Cynthia." + +"No, no--you are anything but selfish! Oh, darling, live for me a little +if you will not for yourself! Father asks you to do that as well as I. +You will make us suffer if you suffer--and I cannot bear to part from +you again! If you love me, Hubert, say nothing--for my father's sake and +mine!" + +It was a strange plea. And while Hubert listened and strove to calm her, +there came a new and unwonted sound upon the stairs--the sound of a +struggle, of trampling feet, of angry voices--of a woman's shriek and a +man's stifled curse. Cynthia sprang to her feet. + +"I hear my father's voice!" she said. "What can that mean?" + + * * * * * + +There had been another visitor that afternoon to Hubert's lodgings in +Russell Square. Sabina Meldreth had presented herself at three o'clock, +and had inquired for Mrs. Vane. She was told that Mrs. Vane had gone +out, and was not likely to be back until six or half-past six o'clock. + +"And then the General's coming with her," Jenkins had informed her, "and +they're to dine together, because it is the first time that master has +stayed up to dinner since he was taken ill." + +"Oh, that'll do very well for me!" said Sabina sullenly. "I shall see +the whole lot of them then, I suppose. I'll wait!" and she planted +herself on one of the wooden chairs in the hall. + +"Won't you come down-stairs?" said Jenkins. "My missus is there." + +"No, I won't. I want to see Mrs. Vane; and perhaps she'll get away or +refuse to see me if I am down-stairs. Sitting here, she can't escape so +easy. I want Mrs. Vane." + +Jenkins shrugged his shoulders. + +"You seem to have got a grudge against her," he observed. "Didn't she +pay you properly?" + +"No, she didn't--not that it's any business of yours," Sabina remarked. + +And, after that speech, Jenkins retired with dignity, feeling that it +was not his part to converse any longer with a woman who chose to be so +very impolite to him. + +"She looks very queer!" he observed to his wife down-stairs. "She's in +black, and her eyes are red as if she'd been crying, and her face as +white as death. I think she looks as if she was going out of her mind." + +Whereupon Mrs. Jenkins herself went up-stairs to inspect the dangerous +Sabina, but came down with the report that "she looked quiet enough." +And so the afternoon went on--and still Mrs. Vane did not arrive. But +Cynthia did. + +When Sabina heard Miss West's voice speaking to the maid at the door, +she gave a violent start. Then she rose and went cautiously into a +little room which opened off the hall, and stood behind the door, so +that Cynthia could not see her. As soon as Cynthia had gone up-stairs, +Sabina dashed out into the hall again, and inspected the square through +the pane of glass at the side of the hall door. + +"It's him sure enough," she said to herself, "and his daughter's gone +up-stairs! Well, they are bold as brass, the pair of them! They didn't +ought to be allowed to escape, I'm sure; but I don't know what to do. I +wish Mrs. Vane would come home, and the General too. They'd take care he +was nabbed fast enough! And here they come!" + +For at that moment Miss Vane's carriage drove up to the door, and out of +it came its owner, as well as Mrs. Vane and the General. Sabina opened +the door before the man had time to knock. And no sooner had Mrs. Vane +entered than she was confronted by Sabina. + +"What do you want here!" she asked. + +Sabina had, as Flossy expected, come with demands that would not perhaps +have been easy to satisfy; but all her plans were swept away by the +appearance of Westwood in the square. Sabina did not attempt to stand on +ceremony. + +"For goodness' sake, ma'am, don't go up-stairs nor let them go just +yet!" she said hurriedly. "There's the man Westwood in the square--and +his daughter's just gone up to Mr. Lepel. I know him by sight perfectly. +If you want him to be arrested, ma'am, you could get it done now +easily." + +"What's that?" said old Miss Vane, stepping back with her hand to her +ear. "Why are you looking so pale, Flossy? What's all this about?" + +Flossy looked at her husband and then looked at Sabina. She would have +given anything to stop Sabina's tongue. For the General had never yet +been made aware of one half of her manoeuvres, and she did not think +that he even knew that Westwood was alive. The whole thing would +probably excite him terribly; and there was a certain unsigned document +in the General's bureau at home about which Flossy was particularly +anxious. She had not wanted him to hear too much about Westwood's fate. + +But there was no help for it now. He came forward with his sister, +wanting to know what all the disturbance was about, and questioning +first one and then another in turn. Sabina was not voluble; but, acting +on a hint from Mrs. Vane, she did not at once say how she came to +recognise the man. The General flew into a rage, as Flossy had expected +him to do, and wanted to go out and lay hands himself on his brother's +murderer. With great difficulty his wife and sister persuaded him to +listen to reason. The footman was despatched for the police, and Jenkins +was deputed to accost the man and bring him to the house. In this last +piece of business Flossy took the lead. She had a notion that Jenkins +was in Cynthia's confidence, and would not do what was required of him +if he knew its purpose; and for that reason she coolly gave him a +message from Hubert and Cynthia. Neither the General nor Miss Vane heard +it, or perhaps they would not have allowed it to be sent; but it +certainly effected all that they desired. Quietly and unsuspiciously +Westwood came stepping across the square in Jenkins' wake; and just as +quietly was taken up the stairs and shown into a little sitting-room, +where it had been decreed that he should be delayed until the police +could arrive. + +But Westwood was not altogether at his ease. He was surprised to find +that neither Cynthia nor Lepel were there to meet him--surprised to find +himself left alone in a bare little room for five or ten minutes at the +very least. At last he tried the door. It was locked. And then the truth +flashed across his mind--he had been recognised--he had been entrapped. +Perhaps even Cynthia and Hubert Lepel were in the plot. They had perhaps +meant him to be caught and sent back to Portland, to die like a wild +beast in a cage. + +"There'll be murder done first!" said Westwood, looking round him for a +weapon. "Let's see which is the strongest--Hubert Lepel or me. And now +for the door! The window is too high." + +He had found a poker, and he dealt one crashing blow at the lock of the +door. It was not strong, and it yielded almost immediately. There was a +shriek from some one on the stairs--the rush of two men from the hall. +The General and a servant were instantly upon him, and, what was worse, +Cynthia's arms were around his neck, her hand upon his arm. + +"Father, don't strike! You will kill somebody!" she cried. + +"And what do I care? Is it you that have given me up? Do you want me to +die like a rat in a hole?" the man cried, trying to shake her off. + +But the men were at his side--resistance was useless--the door at the +foot of the stairs had been barred, and there was no way of escape. + +"The police will be here directly--keep him till they come!" cried the +General at the top of his voice. "I shall give him in charge! He is the +murderer Westwood, the man who killed my bother, Sydney Vane, and +afterwards escaped from Portland Prison, where he was undergoing a life +sentence! I remember the man perfectly. Sabina Meldreth, you can +identify him?" + +"Oh, yes, I can identify him!" said Sabina curtly. "He's Miss West's +father, anyway--and we all know who that was. We heard her call him +'father' just now her very self." + +The servants tightened their grasp on the man's arm. But at that moment +an interruption occurred. The drawing-room door was flung open, and +Hubert Lepel, ghastly pale, and staggering a little as he moved, +appeared upon the scene. + +"This must go no further," he said. "Keep the police away, and let this +man go. He is not Sydney Vane's murderer." + +"Don't interfere, sir!" shouted the General from the stairs. "This is +Westwood, the man who escaped from Portland--and back to Portland he +shall go!" + +"It is Westwood, I know," said Herbert, supporting himself against the +door-post, and looking down calmly upon the excited group below; "but +Westwood was not a murderer. General, you have been mistaken all this +time. I wish to make a statement of the truth--it was I who killed +Sydney Vane! Now do what you like!" + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +A sudden hush fell upon the group. Each looked at the others aghast. The +general opinion was that Mr. Lepel's fever had returned upon him and +that he was raving. But at least three persons knew or suspected that he +spoke only the truth. + +"He's mad--delirious!" said the General angrily. "Take him back to his +room, some of you, and help me to secure the criminal!" + +"You had better come here and listen to my story first," said Hubert, +still clutching at the door to steady himself. "Keep the police +down-stairs for five minutes, General, if you please. Neither Westwood +nor I shall escape in that time. Jenkins, drop that gentleman's arm!" + +Jenkins relinquished his hold of Westwood's arm with great promptitude. +Cynthia said a few words to him in an undertone which sent him +down-stairs at once. She had heard the front door open and shut, and +believed that the police had come. They, at least, could be detained for +a few minutes--she had no hope of anything more; but she felt that +Hubert's confession should be made to his own relatives first of all. +She ran to his side and gave him her arm to lean upon, conducting him +back to the drawing-room; and thither the others followed her in much +agitation and perturbation of mind. The General was almost foaming at +the mouth with rage; Miss Vane looked utterly blank and stupefied; +Flossy's face was white as snow; Sabina watched the scene with stolid +and sullen curiosity; while Westwood marched into the drawing-room with +the air of a proud man unjustly assailed. + +They found Hubert leaning against the mantelpiece. He would not sit +down; but he was not strong enough to stand without support. Cynthia was +clinging to him with her face half hidden on his shoulder; his arm was +clasped about her waist. + +"What does this mean?" said the General. + +"It means," answered Flossy's quiet voice, "that Hubert is raving, and +that the doctor must be sent for immediately." + +"You know better than that, Florence," said her brother. "I speak the +truth, and nothing but the truth. I accuse no one else," he said, with +marked emphasis; "but I wish you all now to know what were the facts. It +was I who met Sydney Vane that day in the fir plantation beside the road +that leads up the hill to Beechfield. We quarrelled, and we agreed to +settle the matter by a duel. We were unequally matched. He had a +revolver and I had this man Westwood's gun, which I found on the ground. +We fired, and Sydney fell." + +There was a brief silence. Then a bitter cry escaped from Miss Vane's +lips. + +"Oh, Hubert, Hubert," she wailed, "can this be true?" + +"God knows that it is true!" answered Hubert; and his face carried +conviction if his words did not. + +"It is impossible!" cried the General. "To begin with, if you had +committed this crime--for a duel in the way you mention was a crime and +nothing else--you would never have allowed this man to suffer for it. I +absolutely refuse to believe, sir, that my kinsman is such a base, +cowardly villain! This is a fit of delirium--nothing else!" + +"It is simple truth," said Hubert sadly. "That I did not at once +exonerate Andrew Westwood is, to my thinking, the worst part of my +crime. I acknowledge that I--I dared not confess; and I left him to bear +the blame." + +"Good heavens, sir, do you tell me that to my face?" thundered the old +man, with uplifted hand. "You are a disgrace to the family! I am glad +that you do not bear my name." + +He would perhaps even have struck the younger man if Cynthia had not +twined her arms more closely round Hubert's neck, and made herself for +the moment a defence to him. But Hubert drew himself away. + +"Let me go, Cynthia," he said quietly. "You must not come between us. +The General is right, and I am a disgrace to my name. He must do what he +thinks fit." + +But the General had turned away, and was walking furiously up and down +the room, too angry and too much overcome for speech. Miss Vane was +sobbing bitterly. Flossy watched her brother's face. She saw that he +was trying not to implicate her. Would she escape? If his silence and +her own could save her, she would be safe. But she had reckoned without +Andrew Westwood. + +"I beg pardon, sir," said Cynthia's father, addressing himself to the +General; "but this ain't fair! Mr. Lepel is getting more of the blame +than he deserves. Suppose you let me speak a word for him?" + +"You!" said the General, stopping short. "You, who have suffered his +punishment, cannot have much to say for him! If--if this is true," he +went on, with a curious mixture of stiffness and of shame, "we have much +to answer for with respect to you--much to make up----" + +"Not so much as maybe you think," said Andrew Westwood. "I was bitter +enough at the time, and I have thought often and often of the words that +I said at the trial--how I cursed the man that brought me to that pass +and all that he held dear. Curses come home to roost, they say. At any +rate, the person who is dearest to him, I believe, is my very own +daughter, whom I myself love better that any one in the whole wide +world; and far be it from me to wish evil to her or to any one that she +loves." + +Miss Vane's handkerchief fell to her lap. The General stared at the +speaker open-mouthed. The man's native nobility of soul amazed them +both. Andrew Westwood went on soberly. + +"You have not asked Mr. Lepel how he came to fight Mr. Vane, sir. You +might be sure that it wasn't for a poor reason; and there was never +anything considered dishonorable in a fair fight between two armed men." + +"That does not do away with the injury to yourself," said the General +grimly. "Such blame as there was ought to have been borne by him and not +by you." + +Westwood waved his hand. + +"As for injury," he said, "me and Cynthia have agreed to forget about +that. If I'd been at Portland all this time, why, then no doubt I should +feel it worse. But I got away after four years of it, and made my way to +America, and 'struck ile' there. I've done better since then than, ever +I did in my life before; so I have no need to complain. But you haven't +asked him why he fought Mr. Vane, sir." + +"Well, why was it?" said the General sternly and grudgingly. + +He did not see that his wife suddenly rose from her seat, and with +clasped hands darted a look full of miserable fear and entreaty towards +her brother. But all the others saw, though some of them did not +understand; and Hubert responded to the appeal. + +"I cannot tell you," he answered, with his eyes on the ground. + +"But I can!" said Westwood. "And Mrs. Vane could, if she chose! Blame +her if you like, sir, for she's known the truth all along as much as Mr. +Hubert's done; and it was to save her that he would not open his lips." + +They had tried in vain to stop him--Hubert by angry imperative words, +Flossy by a piteous cry of terror; but Westwood's rough sonorous voice +rose above all other sounds. He paused for a moment, looking at the +General's face of incredulous dismay, at Mrs. Vane's shrinking figure, +and his tones softened a little as he spoke again. + +"I don't wish to say more myself than is necessary. Miss Lepel as she +was then and Mr. Sydney Vane were in the habit of meeting each other in +the wood. Many of the village people knew it--it was common talk in +Beechfield. Mr. Lepel found it out and was angry. He told Mr. Vane there +must be no more of it; and then the quarrel followed that Mr. Lepel +speaks about. I don't want to make too much of it"--casting a reluctant +glance at Hubert--"but I think that Mr. Lepel was right in objecting and +in trying to put a stop to it." + +It was certain that he had very much softened the facts of the case; but +the General could not have looked more confounded, or Flossy more +overwhelmed, if a great deal more had been said. The veins swelled upon +the old man's forehead, his face grew lividly purple as he strode over +to his wife's side and laid his hand heavily on her shoulder. + +"Florence, is this true?" he said. + +She sat mute and shrinking in her chair, crushed as if beneath an +invisible weight--her hands clasped, her white face averted. Miss Vane, +watching her eagerly, felt with a thrill of horror that she looked like +a guilty woman. + +"Is this true?" the General asked again, giving her a little shake. But +Flossy still sat mute. + +Then Miss Vane interposed. + +"Let her alone, Richard," she said. "She is overcome--she cannot answer +just now. She will explain everything by-and-by." + +"Speak!" cried the General, his eyes blazing with rage. He would have +shaken her again and more violently if Hubert had not interfered. + +"You forget, sir, that she is a woman and that she is your wife," he +said. "Whatever may have happened in the past, she has no doubt +regretted what was an imprudence. I was to blame for taking up the +matter too seriously. You know what your brother was; I know my sister. +We must judge them by what we know." + +The words were halting and ambiguous; but they produced some effect. The +General fell back, still gazing at his wife; and Flossy, released from +the pressure of his heavy hand, sat up and looked about her with a +strange red light glowing in her eyes. Then, to everybody's horror, she +burst into a fit of wild laughter terrible to hear. + +"He says that he knows his sister!" she cried. "Oh, yes--he knows her +well enough! What maudlin stuff will he talk next? 'Imprudence' in +meeting each other in the wood! I tell you that Sydney Vane loved +me--that he was ready to abandon wife and child for me!" + +"Florence, have mercy! Stop--stop!" cried Hubert. But his sister would +not stop. + +"He was ready to go to the world's end with me, I tell you! We had +arranged to start the next day--we were going to Ceylon, never to come +back again. We meant to be happy because we loved each other. That was +what Hubert found out!" she cried, laughing wildly. "That was what he +tried to stop! That was why he killed Sydney Vane--the man I loved--oh, +Heaven, the man for whom I would have sold my very soul!" + +And then the hysteric passion overcame her, and she fell back in a +frenzy of laughter, sobs, and screams, painful alike to see and hear. +Cynthia, Miss Vane, and Sabina went to her aid. Between them they +carried her into another room, whence her terrible screams resounded at +intervals through the house; and the three men were left alone. The +General sank down upon a chair near the table and hid his face in his +hands. He was breathing heavily, and every now and then a moan escaped +him in the silence of the room. + +"Oh, Heaven," he said, "what have I done that this should come upon me +all at once? What have I done?" + +Hubert, exhausted by the excitement that he had gone through, staggered +to the sofa and threw himself down upon it. Westwood remained in his +former position, grasping the back of a chair and looking from one to +the other, as if he were anxious to help, but knew not how to offer any +assistance. In the silence that prevailed, the sound of heavy footsteps +could be distinctly heard upon the stairs. The police had arrived at +last. + +Almost immediately Cynthia and Sabina Meldreth returned to the room. +They had left Miss Vane with Florence, who seemed more manageable when +her aunt touched her and spoke to her than with anybody else. And, as +soon as they came in, Cynthia went up to Hubert, kissed him, and sat +down beside him, holding her hand in his. But Sabina Meldreth looked +fixedly at the General. + +"Don't take on, sir!" she said, going up to the table and speaking +rather softly. "She ain't worth it--she's a reg'lar bad 'un, she is!" + +"Woman, how dare you!" cried the poor General, starting from his seat, +and turning his discolored face, his bloodshot eyes, angrily upon the +intruder. "I do not believe a word--a word you say! My wife is--is above +reproach--my wife--the mother of my boy!" There was a curious little +hitch in his speech, as if he could not say the words he wanted to say. + +"The mother of your boy!" cried Sabina, with intense scorn. "Much mother +she was to him! Look here, sir! I'll own the truth now, and perhaps it +will soften things a bit to you. The boy was not Mrs. Vane's at all--he +was mine." + +Everyone started. The General uttered an inarticulate cry of rage; then +his head dropped on his hands, and he did not speak again. In vain +Hubert tried to silence the speaker. + +"Keep your story for another time," he said. "There is no need to make +such accusations now. You cannot substantiate them, and you are only +paining General Vane." + +"You'd better ask Miss Enid, sir," said the woman half defiantly, half +desperately. "She knows. It troubled her a good bit as to whether she +ought to tell the General or not; but I believe she decided not. Mrs. +Vane thought that if she married you you would keep her quiet. My mother +confessed it all to Miss Enid on her death-bed. I expect the Rector +knows too by this time. He was always trying to get it out of me." + +"Can this be true?" said Hubert, half to himself and half to the +General. But the old man, with his head bowed upon the table, did not +seem to hear. + +"It's true as Gospel!" said Sabina. "And I don't much care who knows it +now. My prospects are all gone, as far as I can make out. This gentleman +here is not the murderer, it seems, and so I sha'n't get the three +hundred pounds for finding him; and Mrs. Vane's payments will be stopped +now, no doubt. She was giving me two hundred a year. I'll take less if +you like to give me something, sir, for going away and holding my +tongue. When Mrs. Vane knew about--about me, and mother was in trouble +over my misfortune, it was just at the time when your own little baby +was born, sir. It was a boy too, and it died when it was only twelve +hours old. And Mrs. Vane spoke to mother about my baby that was just the +same age; and mother and I both thought it would be a good thing if my +little boy could be made the heir of Beechfield Hall. For in that way +Mrs. Vane's position would be better, and she would be able to pay +mother and me a good round sum. And so we settled it. But now poor +little Dick's dead and gone, and all Mrs. Vane's schemes have come to +naught. Mother always said that there would be a bad ending to the +affair." + +"You seem to have forgotten, young woman," said Andrew Westwood sternly, +"that there is a God above us all who takes care of the innocent and +punishes the guilty." + +"I'd not forgotten it," said Sabina, confronting him with an unabashed +air; "but I hadn't believed it till now." + +At that moment an inspector in plain clothes, who had been hastily +fetched from Scotland Yard, made his way into the room and inquired what +he was wanted for. + +"We shall both have to go with you, I think," said Hubert firmly, +glancing at Westwood as he rose. "I presume that you cannot liberate Mr. +Westwood at once." + +"What--Westwood the convict? I should think not!" said the inspector +briskly; and he made a sign to his men, who stepped forward with a pair +of handcuffs. + +"I shall come quietly enough," said Westwood, with a smile. "You needn't +trouble yourself about the bracelets." + +"Ah, I dare say!" said the inspector. "You've been rather a slippery +customer hitherto, I believe. We'll make sure of you now." + +But Hubert interfered. + +"No, no," he said--"Westwood is innocent! It was I--I who committed the +crime for which he was condemned. Put the handcuffs on me, if on any +one, but not on that innocent man!" + +"Well, this is a rum start!" said the inspector to himself. "You don't +look very fit to run away, sir; we won't trouble you," he said to Hubert +with a friendly smile. "Head wrong, I suppose?" he asked of Cynthia, in +a stage-aside. + +They had some trouble in convincing him that Hubert meant to be taken to +the station with Westwood; and, even when he had heard the story, it was +plain that he did not quite believe it. However, he consented to let +Hubert accompany him and then he remarked that, as it was getting late, +it would be better if his companions started at once. + +"And the old gentleman?" he said, looking at the General with interest. +"Is he coming too?" + +Hubert hesitated. Then he went up to the old man and touched him gently +on the shoulder. + +"Will you not look at me, sir?" he said. "Have you nothing to say to me +before I go?" + +No, he had nothing to say; he would never say anything again. The +General was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +The proceedings relating to Westwood's trial and Hubert Lepel's +confession naturally excited great interest. The whole matter had to be +investigated once more; and it could not be denied that a howl of +indignation at Hubert's conduct went up through the length and breadth +of the land. Even Flossy's indiscretions--to call them by no harsher +name--were not held to excuse him for suppressing the fact that he had +taken Sydney Vane's life, and then allowed Andrew Westwood to suffer the +penalty of a crime which he had not committed. The details that came out +one after another whetted the public appetite to an incredible extent. +And in such a case it soon became evident that no details could be +suppressed at all. Even the fact of the attachment between Hubert and +Cynthia leaked out, although everybody tried hard to keep it a secret; +and great was the wonder excited by Cynthia's steady refusal to give up +the lover who had nearly caused her father's death. + +"She must be a heartless creature indeed!" the busybodies said. "Who +ever heard of such a revolting position? Has her father cast her off? +What a grief it must be to him! It is like a terrible old Greek +tragedy!" + +And, when the busybodies heard that Westwood had not objected to his +child's marriage with Hubert Lepel, and had actually appeared to be +friendly with him, they concluded that all parties concerned must be +equally devoid of the finer qualities of human nature, and that a +painful revelation of baseness and secret vice had just been made. + +But, in spite of public indignation, it was not possible for Hubert +Lepel to receive very severe punishment from the arm of the law. He had +never been examined at Westwood's trial--and the law does not compel a +man to inculpate himself. He was held to have committed manslaughter, +and he was condemned to two years' imprisonment. And Westwood received a +"free pardon" from the Queen--which Cynthia thought a very inadequate +way of testifying to his innocence; and he walked through London streets +a free man once more, and might have been made into a hero had he +chosen, especially when it became known that he was very well off, and +that he had a daughter so beautiful and gifted as the young lady who had +previously been known to the general public as Cynthia West. + +Cynthia was entreated to sing again and again, and was assured that +people would flock to hear her and to see her more than ever. But she +steadily refused to sing in any public place. She could not overcome the +feeling that her audience only came to stare at her as Westwood's +daughter, and not to hear her sing. She withdrew therefore from the +musical profession, and lived a quiet life in London with her father, +who had postponed his departure for a few weeks. He would not return to +America until the close of Hubert Lepel's trial. + +The General's sad death, caused chiefly by excitement, was felt, when +the shock was passed, to be almost a relief for his friends. They all +felt that it would have been sad indeed if the old man had lived to see +himself desolate, his name dragged through the mud, his wife branded +with shame, the boy that he had loved not only laid in the grave, but +known to be no kin to him at all. He could not have borne it; his life +would have been a misery to him; and it was perhaps well that he should +die. His will had been unsigned, and the property therefore passed to +Enid, with the usual "half" to his widow. + +Flossy found herself better off than she had expected to be. She never +seemed to regret her actions, not even the hysterical outburst which had +caused her to confess her guilt and to hasten the General's end. She +declared herself relieved that she had now nothing to conceal. As for +the execration that she met with from all who knew her story, she cared +very little indeed. She refused to see her old acquaintances, and went +abroad as soon as possible. Her lawyer alone knew her address--for she +did not correspond with her English friends; but she was occasionally +heard of at a foreign watering-place, where she posed as an interesting +widow completely misunderstood by a sadly prejudiced world. In time she +married again, and it was said that her husband, a Russian nobleman, +ill-treated-her; but Flossy was quite capable of holding her own against +any number of Russia noblemen, and it was more likely that he suffered +at her hands than she at his. In the wild Northern lands however she +finally made her home; and she announced to her lawyer her determination +never to set foot in England again. A traveller who afterwards came +across her in Russian reported to her relatives that she was looking +haggard and worn, that she was said to take chloral regularly, and that +she suffered from some obscure disease of the nerves for which no doctor +could find a cure. And thus she passed out of the lives of her English +friends--unloved, unmourned, unhappy, and, in spite of wealth and title, +unsuccessful in all that she tried to attain. + +Enid, the owner of Beechfield Hall, took a dislike to the place, and +would not live in it for many a long day. She remained with Miss Vane +until a year had passed after the General's death, and then she married +Mr. Evandale and took up her abode at the Rectory. She made an ideal +parson's wife. Her health had grown stronger in the quiet atmosphere of +Miss Vane's home; and, curiously enough, she never had another of her +strange "seizures" after her departure from Beechfield Hall. She herself +always believed that she had conquered them by an effort of will; but +Mr. Evandale was disposed to think that she had been occasionally put +under the influence of some drug by Mrs. Vane, and that Mrs. Vane had +either wished to remove her altogether from her path or undermine her +health and intellect completely. At a later date she had grown tired of +this method, and tried to take a quicker way; but in this attempt she +had been foiled. Parker remained in Enid's service, and made a faithful +nurse, devoted to her mistress and her mistress's children, and above +all devoted to her master, who had spoken to her gently of her past, and +given her new hope for the future. + +And, when the little Evandales began to overflow the Rectory nurseries, +Enid managed to conquer her distaste for the stately old Hall that had +stood empty for so many years, and came thither with her family to fill +the vacant rooms with merry faces, and to chase away all ghosts of a +tragic past by the sound of eager voices, of laughter, and of pattering +feet. And then a deeper love for the old home, now grown so beautiful +and dear, stirred within her; and in time she even marvelled at herself +that she had stayed away so long from Beechfield Hall. + +Sabina Meldreth developed in a curious direction. The Rector "got hold +of her," as he expressed it, and managed to lay his finger on the soft +spot in her heart. It proved to be a remorseful love for delicate +children; and this trait of character became her salvation. She never +talked of the past or said that she repented; but she gave herself +little by little, with strange steadfastness and thoroughness, to the +service of sick children in hospitals. She went through a nurse's +training, and got an engagement as nurse in the Great Ormond Street +Hospital for Children. Here she seemed happy; and the children loved +her--which some people thought odd, because she preserved a good deal of +her roughness of manner and abruptness of speech in ordinary life. But +she was made of finer fibre than one would have imagined, and children +never found her harsh or unkind or unsympathetic. The memory of little +Dick remained with her perhaps, but she never spoke of him. + +During the months of Hubert's imprisonment Cynthia did not correspond +with him. He had asked her not to do so. Her letters would of course +have been overlooked. All that she could do until the trial was over was +to send him flowers, which he was permitted to receive; and very dear +those boxes of rare blossoms soon became to him. He spent a great part +of his time in the infirmary; for his strength had been very much tried +during the time of his convalescence, and it often seemed as if his +anticipations were to be realised, and as if his term of punishment +would not last very long. Cynthia had made him promise that she should +be summoned to his side if he were absolutely in danger. For many a week +she used to be half afraid to look at her letters in the morning, lest +the dread summons should be amongst them; but, after a time, her courage +began to revive, and she dared--yes, she actually dared--to hope for a +brighter future. But, when the term of his imprisonment began, she knew +that she must wait patiently for its end before the cloud of darkness +was lifted from her life. + +"It's about time we was getting back to the States, I reckon," her +father said to her one day. + +"So soon, father?" + +"What should we stay in England for?" he asked, without glancing at her. +"I want to get back to my work; and I want to show you the place, and +see about the new house." + +For at times he drew glowing pictures of the house that he intended to +build for Cynthia some day. Cynthia used to smile and listen very +sweetly. She never contradicted him; she only grew a little abstracted +now and then when he waxed very eloquent, and drew the needle a little +faster through the work that she now affected. He did not usually seem +to notice her silence; but on this occasion he broke out rather +petulantly. + +"One would think you took no interest in it at all! You might sometimes +remember that it's all for you." + +"I do remember it, father dear--and I am very grateful." + +"Well, then," said Westwood, at once restored to cheerfulness, "just you +look here at these plans. I've been talking to an architect, and this is +the drawing he's made for me. Nice mansion that, isn't it? You see, +there's the ground-floor--a study for me, and a drawing-room and a +morning-room, and all sorts of things for you; and here's a wing which +can be added on or not, as is required. Because," he went on rather +quickly and nervously, "if you was to marry out there, you could set up +house-keeping with him, you know; and, when the family grew too large +for the house, we could just add room after room--here, you see--until +we had enough." + +"Yes, father." And then Cynthia added with simplicity, which was perhaps +a little assumed. "Miss Enid Vane says that Hubert will be ordered to +the Riviera for the winter when--when he is free." + +"What has that to do with it?" said Westwood, rolling up his plans and +moving a few steps away from her. + +"Only that perhaps we had better not think too much about the house, +father. We might not be able to come to it." + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" her father said slowly. "You're still thinking +of Mr. Lepel, Cynthia?" + +"Yes, father dear." + +"You mean to marry the man that would have seen me hang and never said a +word to save me?" + +"He would not have done that, you know, father. He spoke out at last, in +order to save you from being rearrested. And you gave me your consent +before----" + +"Ay, before I knew that he had done the deed! I thought that his sister +had done it, and that he was keeping her secret, when I gave my consent, +my girl. It makes a deal of difference." + +"Not to me," said Cynthia quietly. "He did wrong; but I learned to love +him before I knew the story; and I can't leave off loving him now." + +Westwood sat down and began rapping the table with his roll of plans in +a meditative manner. + +"Women are curious folk," he said at last. "When a man's prosperous, +they nag at him and make his life a weariness to him; but, when he's in +trouble, they can't be too faithful nor too fond. It's awkward +sometimes." + +"But it's their nature, you see, father," said Cynthia, smiling a little +as she folded up her work. + +"I suppose it is. And I suppose--being one of them--it's nothing to you +that this man's name has been cried high and low throughout the British +Empire as a monster of iniquity, a base cowardly villain, so afraid of +being found out that he nearly let another man swing for him--that's +nothing to you, eh?" + +Cynthia's cheeks burned. + +"It is nothing to me because it is not true," she said. "I know the +world says so; but the world is wrong. He is not cowardly--he is not +base; he has a noble heart. And when he did wrong it was for his +sister's sake and to save her from punishment--not for his own. Oh, +father, you never spoke so hardly of him before!" + +"I am only repeating what the world says," replied Westwood stolidly. "I +am not stating my own private opinion. What the world says is a very +important thing, Cynthia." + +"I don't care for what it says!" cried Cynthia impatiently. + +"But I care--not for myself, but for you. And we've got to pay some +attention to it--you and I and the man you marry, whoever he may be." + +"It will be Hubert Lepel or nobody, father." + +"It may be Hubert; but it won't be Hubert Lepel with my consent. He has +no call to be very proud of his name that I can see. Look here, Cynthia! +When he comes out, you can tell him this from me--he may marry you if +he'll take the name of 'Westwood' and give up that of 'Lepel'. Many a +man does that, I'm told, when he comes into a fortune. Well, you're a +fortune in yourself, besides what I've got to leave you. If he won't do +that, he won't do much for you." + +"I am not ashamed of his name," said Cynthia, with a little tremor in +her voice. + +"Well, perhaps not; but I'd rather it was so. I don't think I'm +unreasonable, my dear. 'Lepel' isn't a common name, and it's too well +known. As 'Mrs. Hubert Westwood' you will escape remark much more easily +than as 'Mrs. Hubert Lepel.' I don't think it is too much to ask; and +it's the one condition I make before I give my consent to his marrying +you." + +"I will tell him, father. Perhaps he will not mind." + +"If he minds, he won't be worthy of you--that's all I've got to say," +said Westwood, rising to his feet and preparing to leave the room. + +But Cynthia intercepted him: + +"Father, if he consents, you will forgive him, will you not?" she said +putting her hands on his shoulder and looking anxiously into his eyes. + +"Forgive him, my dear? Well, I suppose I have done that, or I shouldn't +say that he might marry you at all." + +"And you will forget the past, and love him a little for my sake?" + +"I'm bound to love the people you love, Cynthy," said the old man +stooping to kiss the beautiful face, and patting her cheek with his roll +of plans; "and I don't think you've got any call to feel afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +The newspapers had cried out that Hubert Lepel's two years were a +miserably insufficient punishment for the crime of which he had been +guilty; but to Cynthia it seemed as if those two years were an eternity. +She did not talk about him to any one; she interested herself apparently +in the affairs of her father's house; she made a thousand occupations +for herself in the new land to which she had gone. Occasionally she had +a letter--which she dearly prized--from Enid Vane, and in these letters +she heard a little now and then about Hubert; but, after Enid's +marriage, the letters became less frequent, and at last ceased +altogether. And then she knew that the two years were over, and that +Hubert must be free. + +Free--or dead! She sometimes had a keen darting fear that she would +never see his face again. His health had suffered very much in +confinement, she had learnt from Enid's letters; and she knew that he +had seemed very weak and ill during those terrible days of his trial for +manslaughter. She could never think of them without a shiver. How had +the two years ended for him? Was he a wreck, without hope without +energy, without strength, coming out of prison only to die? Cynthia +brooded over these possibilities until sleep fled from her eyes and the +color from her cheeks. Her father looked at her now and then with +anxious, grieving eyes; but he did not say a word. She noticed however +that he greatly advocated the good qualities of a fine young Scotchman +called MacPhail, who had lately settled on an estate in the +neighborhood, and had shown a great inclination for Cynthia's society. +Westwood was never tired of praising his good looks, his manly ways, his +abilities, and his intelligence, and of calculating openly, in his +daughter's hearing, the amount of wealth of which he was sure MacPhail +was possessed. Cynthia grew impatient of these praises before long. + +"Dear father," she said, taking his grizzled head between her hands one +day and kissing it, "I like your Mr. MacPhail very well; but I shall get +tired of him very soon if you are always praising him so much." + +"But you do like him, Cynthy?" said her father, turning round hastily. + +"Oh, yes--I think that he is a very estimable young man! I know all his +good points by heart; but I can't say that I find him interesting." + +"Interesting?" echoed Westwood. "What do you mean, Cynthy? Isn't he +clever enough for you?" + +"He is clever enough for anybody, no doubt," said Cynthia, with a little +laugh. "But he never reads, he never thinks--except about his stock--and +he isn't even a gentleman." + +"Neither am I, Cynthia, my dear," said her father sorrowfully. + +"You, you darling old man," said the girl lightly--"as if you were not +one of Nature's gentlemen, and the dearest and noblest of men to boot! +If he were like you, father, I should think twice as much of him;" and +she put her arm round his neck and kissed him. + +Westwood's face beamed. + +"You're not ashamed of your old father?" he said delightedly. "Bless +you, my girl! What I shall do when the time comes for me to lose you, +I'm sure I don't know!" + +"You are not likely to lose me father. I shall probably stay with you +always," said Cynthia rather sadly. But she brightened up when she saw +his questioning face. "You and I shall always keep house together, shall +we not?" + +"Don't you think, Cynthia," said he, detaining her as she was about to +move away, "that we might take MacPhail into partnership some of these +days?" + +"Partnership?" she repeated, not seeing his drift at first. "What do +you want with a partner, father? Is there too much for you to do? Or +haven't you enough capital? Why should you want a partner?" + +"It isn't a partner for myself that I'm talking about, my pretty. I want +a son--and the partner would be for you. In plain words, Donald MacPhail +is head over ears in love with you Cynthia. Couldn't you bring yourself +to look upon him as your husband, don't you think?" + +"No, I could not," said Cynthia quickly and decisively. "There is only +one man whom I could think of--and you know who that one is. If I do not +marry him, I will marry nobody at all." + +Westwood sighed and looked dispirited, but said no more. + +Cynthia exerted herself to be particularly frigid to Mr. MacPhail when +he next visited the house, and succeeded so well that the young +Scotchman was utterly dismayed by her demeanor, and was not seen there +again for many a long day. + +Mr. MacPhail was not the only suitor that Cynthia had to send about his +business. She was too handsome, too winning, to escape remark in a place +where attractive women were rather rare. Her father used afterwards to +observe, with a chuckle of delight, that she had had an offer from every +eligible young man--and from some that were not eligible--within a +circuit of sixty miles around his homestead; but Cynthia did not +altogether like the recollection. + +They did not often see English newspapers; but at this time Westwood +took to poring over any that he could obtain from neighbors or from the +nearest town. One day Cynthia saw that a copy of the _Standard_ was +lying in a very conspicuous position on her writing-table. She took it +up and read the announcement of the death at her own house of Leonora +Vane, aged sixty-nine. She wondered a little that Enid had not written +to tell her of Miss Vane's death; and then the tears fell slowly from +her eyes, as she considered how completely she was now cut off from the +Vanes and all their concerns--as completely as if she herself had +"passed to where beyond these voices there is peace." The old life was +over; she had come to a new world where all her duties lay; and the +past, with its vigorous life, its passionate emotions, its intense joys, +its bitter pains, existed for her no more. + +And yet she could not forget it; absorb herself as she would in +household cares, busy herself as she would with her father's +requirements and the needs of her poorer neighbors--and for these +Cynthia was a centre of all that was beneficent and beautiful--moments +would come when the present seemed to her like a dream and the past the +only reality. When had she lived so fully as when she knew from Hubert's +lips the meaning of his love for her--of her love for him? Life would be +dull and gray indeed if it contained no memory of those exquisite, +passionate moments! For these, the rest of her existence was a mere +setting; and for these she knew well enough that she was glad that she +had lived. + +Thus she sat thinking, with her cheek upon her hand and the tears wet +upon her long dark lashes; and she did not hear the footsteps of any one +approaching until her father touched her on the shoulder and said-- + +"Cynthy, here's visitors!" + +Then she looked up. At first she saw only the ruddy, face and reddish +hair of the admirable MacPhail, and she rose to her feet with an +impatient little sigh. After MacPhail came another neighbor--a tall thin +man with a military bearing, generally known as "the Colonel," though it +was not clear that he had ever held any rank in the army. And after +these two a stranger followed--also a tall man, thin, dark, grave, with +eyes that seemed to Cynthia like those of one who had returned from +beyond the grave. + +A start like a sort of electric shock ran through Cynthia's frame. It +was impossible for her to speak, to do more than extend her hand in +silence to each of the new-comers. And then she looked once more upon +her lover's face--upon the face of Hubert Lepel. In the presence of her +father and the two comparative strangers, she could not even utter a +word of greeting. Her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and she +dared not even raise her eyes. + +Hubert seemed at first as tongue-tied as herself; but presently, she +heard him talking in a quiet unobtrusive way, as if he and "the Colonel" +were old friends; and it transpired that the two had met during Hubert's +previous wanderings in America, and that they had seen a good deal of +the world together. + +Before long, all four men were busily engaged on a comparison of +America and England and in a discussion on contemporary politics, and +Cynthia was able to devote herself to household duties and the +entertainment of her guests. Hubert was staying in Colonel Morton's +house, she found, and they had met Mr. Westwood and MacPhail when they +were having a long tramp over the hills; and, strangely enough, Westwood +had immediately asked both men to dinner. + +It was not until the meal was over and the men had gone out to smoke in +the pleasant piazza, with its clustering vines which adorned the front +of Westwood's house, that Cynthia had a moment in which to compare her +present impressions with her past. It struck her that Hubert looked +older, as well as graver and sadder, and perhaps more dignified. His +hair was turning gray and thin at the temples; his moustache was also +streaked with white--bleached, as Cynthia knew, by trouble, not by age. +He was thin, but he looked stronger than when she saw him last; and his +gait was firm and elastic. His face was slightly tanned--probably by the +sun and sea-air in his recent expedition from England--and the brown hue +gave him a look of health and vigor which he had not possessed in +England. But the change in his expression was more striking to Cynthia +than any alteration in physical aspect. His eyes had lost their anxious +restlessness, his mouth was set as if in steadfast resolution; his brow +was calm. He looked like a man who had gone "through much tribulation," +but had come out victor at the last. + +And Cynthia--was she changed? He had thought so when he came upon her +that afternoon; but his heart had yearned over her all the more fondly +for the change. He had never seen her so thin, so pale, so worn; the +dark eyes had not been set in such hollows of shadow when he last saw +her; the cheeks had never before been so colorless. He felt that she had +suffered for him--that she had borne his punishment with himself; and +the thought made it difficult for him to restrain himself from falling +at her feet and kissing the very hem of her garment as he looked at her. +But at dinner she looked more like her old beautiful self. She was in +black when he arrived; but she came to dinner in a pretty gown of +cream-colored embroidered muslin, with a bunch of crimson flowers at her +bosom. The color had come back to her cheeks too, and the light to her +eyes--he saw that, though he could not get her to look at him. + +Cynthia sat in the window, not daring to join the party on the +piazza--hoping perhaps that one of them would separate himself from the +others and come to her. Hubert was walking with her father now--up and +down, up and down, deep in talk. Was it merely talk of politics and +farming and common things? + +She saw them withdraw to a corner of the piazza where they could +converse unheard by their companions. Westwood was smoking; but his +speech was fluent, Cynthia could see; he was laying down the law, +emphasising his sentences by an outstretched finger, blowing great rings +of smoke into the air between some of his remarks. Hubert listened and +seemed to assent. His head was bowed, his arms were folded across his +chest; he looked--Cynthia could not help the thought--like a prisoner +receiving sentence, a penitent before his judge. Westwood turned to him +at last, as if awaiting an answer--the moonlight was on his face, and +showed it to be grave and anxious, but unmistakably kind. Hubert raised +his head and made some answer; and then--Cynthia's heart began to beat +very fast indeed--her father held out his hand. The two men grasped each +other's hands warmly and silently for a moment, then both turned away. +Westwood took out a great red handkerchief and blew his nose vehemently; +Hubert leaned for a moment against the balustrade and put his hand +across his eyes. Cynthia's own eyes swam in sympathetic tears as she +strove to imagine what had been said. In that moment her love for Hubert +was almost less than her love for her father--the man who, in spite of +lawless instincts, faulty training, great misfortunes and mistakes, had +a nature that was large enough and grand enough to know how to forgive. + +Her eyes were so blinded with tears that she saw but indistinctly that +her father was coming across the piazza to the long open window by which +she sat. She drew herself back a little, so as to be out of the range of +vision of the Colonel and Mr. MacPhail. She knew that the crisis of her +fate was come. + +"Cynthia, my dear," said her father's homely ragged voice--how dear it +had grown, she felt that she had never known till now--"here's a +gentleman wants to have a word with you. And he has my good wishes and +my friendship, dearie; and that's a thing that I thought you'd like to +know. He calls it my forgiveness; but we know--we understand--it's all +the same. I'll leave him with you, my beauty, and you can say to each +other what you please." And then he kissed her very tenderly and turned +away. + +She felt that Hubert had followed him, and had stepped into the room; +but she could not raise her eyes. + +She was obliged to see him however when he knelt down before her, and +put his clasped hands very gently upon her knee. + +"Cynthia," said his voice--the other voice that she loved to hear--"your +father says that he has forgiven me. Can you forgive?" + +She put her hand upon his, and a great tear fell down her cheeks. + +"I have nothing to urge in my defence," he said. "If you like to punish +me--to send me away from you for ever--I know that I shall have deserved +my fate. I dare not ask for anything from you, Cynthia, except your +forgiveness. May I hope to gain that?" + +"If my father has forgiven you," she said a little hurriedly, "I cannot +do less." + +There was a little silence. He bowed his head and touched with his lips +the slender fingers that rested lightly upon his own joined hands. He +felt that she trembled at the touch. + +"What is to be my fate, Cynthia? I put my life into your hands. I owe it +to your father and to you." + +"What do you want it to be?" she asked softly, but with an effort of +which he was profoundly conscious and ashamed. + +"Oh, my love, my only love, you know what I desire!" he said, with +sudden passion; and for the first time he raised his head and looked +into her face. "I dare not ask--I am not worthy! If there is anything +that you can bear to say--to give me--you must do it of your own free +will; I cannot ask you for anything." + +"But you know," said Cynthia, looking at him at last, and letting, the +gleam of a smile appear through the tears that filled her eyes, "a woman +likes to be asked." + +And then, when their eyes had once met, their lips met too, and there +was no need for him to ask her anything. + +But, when there was no longer any need, he found it easier to ask +questions. + +"Cynthia, my darling, do you love me?" + +"With my whole heart, Hubert!" + +"And will you--will you really--be--my wife?" + +"Yes, Hubert." + +"And you forgive me? Oh, that is more wonderful than all! You bow me to +the earth with your goodness--you and your father, Cynthia! What can I +do to be worthy of it? He is going to give me his name as well as +yourself; and Heaven knows that I will do my best to keep it clean!" + +His head sank on her bosom. + +"Hubert," she said, "you must not talk in that way! Do you think that I +should ever be ashamed of your name, darling? It is just that my father +has no son, and does not want his old name to die out. If you will +sacrifice your name, instead of my sacrificing mine, as women generally +do, you will make him very happy and very proud of you. He wants a son, +and you will be as a son to him, Hubert darling, will you not?" + +And so the treaty was ratified. + +Hubert and Cynthia were married in three weeks; and the marriage turned +out an uncommonly happy one. Contrary to even Cynthia's expectations, +Westwood and his son-in-law became the very best of friends. Westwood +was proud of Hubert's literary knowledge, of his former social standing, +of his many gifts and accomplishments. It was he who one day proposed +that Hubert should go back to the name of Lepel--the name by which he +had been known in the literary and dramatic world, and by which he would +perhaps be remembered long after "the Beechfield tragedy" was forgotten. +But Hubert refused. He was too proud of the new name that he had won, he +said, ever to give it up. As for literature, he had no inclination for +it now. In this new home, in a new world, with father, wife, and boys +beside him, and a political career which opened out a future such as he +had never dreamed of when he was writing his plays and poems in Russell +Square--a future made easy to him by Westwood's position and character +in the States, and also by the large fortune which Miss Vane had left +him unconditionally on her death--he had no wish to change his lot in +life. Out of evil had come good; but only through repentance and the +valley of humiliation, without which he would indeed have gone wearily +and sadly to an end without honor and without peace. But he had won a +great victory; and he was not without his great reward. + + + + + THE END. + + + + + +---------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Notes: | + | Page 11: Changed "at a friend" to "as a friend" | + | Page 18: Changed "closed first" to "closed fist" | + | Page 31: Changed "her sister" to "his sister" | + | Page 122: Changed "infringment" to "infringement" | + | Page 142: Changed "insistance" to "insistence" | + | Page 148: Changed "freinds" to "friends" | + | Page 151: Changed "cutseyed" to "curtseyed" | + | Page 155: Changed "bettter" to "better" | + | Page 176: Changed "delighful" to "delightful" | + | Page 229: Changed "mediated" to "meditated" | + | Page 242: Changed "Kensingston" to "Kensington" | + | Page 243: Changed "remenber" to "remember" | + | Page 274: Changed "profond" to "profound" | + | Page 280: Changed "lovelinesss" to "loveliness" | + | Page 307: Changed "grevious" to "grievous" | + | Page 345: Changed "thoughful" to "thoughtful" | + | Page 379: Changed "word" to "world" | + +---------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Life Sentence, by Adeline Sergeant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31984-8.txt or 31984-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/8/31984/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +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. 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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 Life Sentence + A Novel + +Author: Adeline Sergeant + +Release Date: April 14, 2010 [EBook #31984] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>A LIFE SENTENCE.</h1> + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h3>A NOVEL.</h3> + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h4>BY<br /> +<span style="font-size: 125%">ADELINE SERGEANT,</span><br /> +<i>Author of "The Luck of the House," "Under False<br /> +Pretences," etc., etc.</i></h4> + + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h4>MONTREAL:<br /> +<span style="font-size: 125%">JOHN LOVELL & SON,</span><br /> +23 St. Nicholas Street.</h4> + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="narrow">Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by John Lovell +& Son, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and Statistics at +Ottawa.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="A_LIFE_SENTENCE" id="A_LIFE_SENTENCE"></a>A LIFE SENTENCE.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"</p> + +<p>"We find the prisoner guilty, my lord."</p> + +<p>A curious little thrill of emotion—half sigh, half sob—ran through the +crowded court. Even the most callous, the most world-hardened, of human +beings cannot hear unmoved the verdict which condemns a fellow-creature +to a shameful death. The spectators of Andrew Westwood's trial for the +murder of Sydney Vane had expected, had predicted, the result; yet it +came with the force of a shock to their excited nerves. The trial had +lasted for two whole days already, and the level rays of sunshine that +streamed through the west windows of the court-house showed that the +afternoon of a third day was drawing to a close. The attention of the +patient sitters with whom the seats were closely packed had been +strained to the uttermost; the faces of many were white and weary, or +flushed with excitement and fatigue. The short absence of the jurymen +had only strung their nerves to a higher pitch; and the slight murmur +that passed through the heavy air when the verdict was made known showed +the tension which had been reached.</p> + +<p>The prisoner was well known in the locality, and so also had been his +victim. This fact accounted for the crowding of the court by friends and +acquaintances of the man murdered and his murderer, and for the +breathless interest with which every step of the legal process had been +followed. Apart from this, the case had excited much attention all over +England; the papers had been filled with its details, and a good deal of +discussion on the laws of circumstantial evidence had arisen during its +course. Not that there could be any reasonable doubt as to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> the +prisoner's guilt. True, nobody had seen him commit the crime. But he was +a poacher of evil character and violent disposition; he had been sent to +gaol for snaring rabbits by Mr. Vane, and had repeatedly vowed vengeance +upon him; there was a presumption against him from the very first. Then +one evening he had been seen lurking about a covert near which Mr. Vane +passed shortly afterwards; shots were heard by passers-by and Mr. Vane +was discovered lying amongst the springing bracken in the depths of a +shadowy copse, shot through the heart. A scrap of rough tweed found in +the dead man's hand was said to correspond with a torn corner of +Westwood's coat, and the murder was supposed to have been committed by +the poacher with a gun which was afterwards found in Westwood's cottage. +Several persons testified that they had seen Andrew issuing from the +copse or walking along the neighboring road, before or after the hour +when Mr. Vane met his fate, that he had his gun in his hand, that his +demeanor was strange, and that his clothes seemed to have been torn in a +scuffle. Little by little the evidence accumulated against him until it +proved irresistible. Facts which seemed small in themselves became large +and black, and charged with damnatory significance in the lawyer's +hands. The best legal talent of the country was used with crushing +effect against poor Andrew Westwood. Sydney Vane had been a popular man; +he belonged to a well-known county family, and had left a widow and +child. His friends would have moved heaven and earth to bring his +murderer to justice. After all—as was said later—the man Westwood +never had a chance. What availed his steady sullen denial against the +mass of circumstantial evidence accumulated against him? The rope was +round his neck from the time when that morsel of cloth was found clasped +close in the dead man's hand.</p> + +<p>If there had been a moment when the hearts of his enemies were softened, +when a throb of pity was felt even by Sydney Vane's elder brother, the +implacable old General who had vowed that he would pursue Andrew +Westwood to the death, it was when the prisoner's little daughter had +been put into the witness-box to give evidence against her father. Every +one felt that the moment was terrible, the situation almost unbearable. +The child was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> eleven years old, a brown, thin, frightened-looking +little creature, with unnaturally large dark eyes and masses of thick +dark hair. Her appearance evidently agitated the prisoner. He looked at +her with an expression of anguish, and wrung his gaunt nervous hands +together with a groan that haunted for many a long year the memories of +those who heard it. The child's dilated black eyes fixed themselves upon +him, and her lips, drawn back a little from her teeth, turned ashy +white. No one who saw her pathetic little face could feel anything but +compassion for her, and a wish to spare her as much as possible.</p> + +<p>The counsel certainly wished to spare her. Only one or two questions +were to be asked, and these were not of great importance; but at the +very outset a difficulty occurred. She was small for her age, and the +judge chose to ask whether she was aware of the nature of an oath. He +got no answer but a frightened stare. A few more questions plainly +revealed a state of extraordinary ignorance on the child's part. Did she +know who made her? No. Had she not heard of God? No. Did she attach any +meaning to the words "heaven" or "hell?" Not in the very least. By her +own showing, Andrew Westwood's little daughter was no better than a +heathen.</p> + +<p>The judge decided that her evidence need not be taken, and made a severe +remark about the unwisdom of bringing so young and untaught a witness +into court, especially when—as appeared to him—the child was of feeble +intellect and weakly constitution.</p> + +<p>It was murmured in reply that the girl had previously shown herself +quick-witted and ready of tongue, and that it was only since the shock +of her father's arrest that she had lapsed into her present state of +apparent semi-imbecility. No further attempt was made however to bring +her forward; and little Jenny Westwood, as she was usually called, on +stepping down from the box, was bidden to go away, as the court in which +her father was being tried for his life was no place for her. But she +did not go. She shrank into a corner, and waited until the Court rose +that day. In the morning she came again, resisting all efforts made by +some kindly countrywomen to take her away to their homes. She did not +speak, but struggled out of their hands with so wild a look in her great +black eyes that they shrank back from her aghast, whispering to each +other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> that she was purely "not right in the head," and perhaps they had +better leave her alone. They made her sit beside them, and tried to +persuade her to share the food that they had brought to eat in the +middle of the day; but they did not succeed in their kindly efforts. The +child seemed stupefied; she had a blind look, and did not respond when +spoken to.</p> + +<p>She heard the foreman declare the finding of the jury—"Guilty, my +lord," but she hardly knew at that moment what was meant. Then came the +usual question. Had the prisoner anything to say? Was there any defence +which even now he desired to urge, any plea in mitigation of his crime?</p> + +<p>Andrew Westwood raised his head. He had a sullen, defiant countenance; +his wild dark eyes, the shock of black hair tumbled across his lowering +brows, his rugged features, had told against him in popular estimation +and given him a ruffianly aspect in the eyes of the crowd; and yet, when +he stood up, and with a sudden rough gesture tossed the hair back from +his brows, and faced the judge with a look of unflinching resolution, it +was felt that the man possessed a rude dignity which compelled something +very like admiration. Courage always commands respect, and, whatever his +faults, his vices, his crimes might be, Andrew Westwood was a courageous +man. He gripped the rail of the dock before him with both hands, and +gave a quick look round the court before he spoke. His face was a little +paler than usual, but his strong, hard voice did not falter.</p> + +<p>"I have only to say what I said before. I take God to witness that I am +innocent of this murder, and I pray that He'll punish the man that did +kill Mr. Vane and left me to bear the burden of his crime! That's all I +have to say, my lord. You may hang me if you like—I swear that I never +killed him; and I curse the hand that did!"</p> + +<p>The hard, defiant tone of his speech effectually dissipated the +momentary sympathy felt for him by his audience. The judge sternly cut +him short, and said a few solemn words on the heinousness of his offence +and the impenitence which he had evinced. Then came the tragic +conclusion of the scene.</p> + +<p>It had grown late; lights were brought in and placed before the judge, +upon whose scarlet robes and pale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> agitated face they flickered +strangely in the draught from an open window at the back of the +court-house. The greater part of the building was in shadow; here and +there a chance ray of light rested on one or two in a row of raised +faces, and threw some insignificant countenance into startling temporary +distinctness. A breathless hush pervaded the whole room. Every eye was +fixed on the central figures of the scene—on the criminal as he stood +with hands still grasping the side of the dock, his head defiantly +raised, his shoulders braced as if to support a blow; on the judge, +whose pale features quivered with emotion as he donned the black cap and +uttered the fatal words which condemned Andrew Westwood to meet death by +the hangman's hand.</p> + +<p>"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!"</p> + +<p>The words were scarcely spoken before a loud scream rang through the +hall. Westwood turned round sharply; his eyes roved anxiously over the +throng of faces, and seemed to pierce the gloom that had gathered about +the benches in the background. He saw a little group of persons gathered +about the body of a child whom they were carrying into the fresh air. It +was his own little daughter who had cried out and fainted at the sound +of those fateful words.</p> + +<p>The prisoner was instantly removed by two warders; but it was noted that +before he left the dock he threw up his hands as if in a wild gesture of +supplication to the heavens that would not hear. He made eager inquiries +of the warders as to the welfare of his child; and it was perhaps owing +to the compassion of one of them that the chaplain came to him an hour +later in his cell with news of her. She was better, she was in the hands +of kindly women who would take care of her, and she would come to see +her father by-and-bye. A convulsive twitch passed over Andrew's face.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said; "I don't want to see her. What good would that do?"</p> + +<p>The chaplain, a kindly man whose sensibilities were not yet blunted by +the painful scenes through which he had constantly to pass, uttered a +word of remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he said, "you would like to see her again? She seems to love +you dearly."</p> + +<p>"I'm not saying that I don't love her myself," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> man, turning +away his face. Then, after a moment's pause, and in a stifled +voice—"She's dearer to me than the apple of my eye. And that's where +the sting is. I'm to go out of the world, it seems, with a blot on my +name, and she'll never know who put it there."</p> + +<p>"If you saw her yourself——"</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Westwood resolutely—"I won't see her again. She'd remember +me all her life then, and she'd better forget. You're a good man, sir, +and a kind—couldn't you take her away somewhere out of hearing of all +this commotion, to some place where they would not know her father's +story, and where she'd never hear whether he was alive or dead?"</p> + +<p>The chaplain shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Westwood," he said compassionately. "I know of no place +where she could be safe from gossip."</p> + +<p>"She will hear my story wherever she goes, I suppose you mean," said +Westwood wearily. "Ah, well, she will learn to bear it in time, poor +soul."</p> + +<p>The chaplain looked at him curiously. There was more sincerity of tone, +less cant and affectation in this man than in any criminal he had ever +known.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, sir," said the prisoner, after a short silence, during which +he sat with his eyes fixed on the floor—"I suppose there is no chance +of a reprieve—of the sentence being commuted?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Westwood. And you must let me say that your own conduct +during the trial makes it more improbable that any commutation of the +sentence should be obtained. If, my man, you could have shown any +penitence—if you had confessed your crime——"</p> + +<p>"The crime that I never committed?" said Westwood, with a flash of his +sullen dark eyes. "Ah, you all speak alike! It's the same +story—'Confess—repent.' I may have plenty to confess and repent of, +but not this, for I never murdered Sydney Vane."</p> + +<p>The chaplain shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you persist in your story," he said sadly. "I had hoped +that you would come to a better mind."</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to go into eternity with a lie on my lips?" asked +Westwood, fiercely. "I tell you that I am speaking the truth now. My +coat was torn on a briar; I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> fired my gun at a crow as I went over the +fields to my cottage. I saw a man go into the copse after Mr. Vane just +as I came out. Find him, if you want to know who killed Mr. Vane."</p> + +<p>"You have told us the same story before," said the chaplain, in a +discouraged tone. "For your own sake, Westwood, I wish I could believe +you. Who was the man? What was he like? Where did he go? Unless those +questions are answered, it is impossible that your story should be +believed."</p> + +<p>"I can't answer them," said Westwood, in a sullen tone. "I did not know +the man, and I did not look at him. All I know is that he has murdered +me as well as Mr. Vane, and blasted the life of my innocent child. And I +shall pray God night and morning as long as the breath is in my body to +punish him, and to bring shame and sorrow on himself and all that he +loves, as he has brought shame and sorrow on me and mine."</p> + +<p>Then he turned his face to the wall and would say no more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>Beechfield Hall was the name of the old manor-house in which the Vanes +had lived for many generations. The present head of the family, General +Richard Vane, was a man of fifty-five, a childless widower, whose +interests centred in the management of his estate and the welfare of his +brother Sydney and Sydney's wife and child. In the natural course of +events, Sydney would eventually have succeeded to the property. It had +always been a matter of regret to the General that neither he nor his +brother had a son; and, when Sydney's life was prematurely cut short, +the General's real grief for his brother's loss was deepened and +embittered by the thought that the last chance of an heir was gone, and +that the family name—one of the most ancient in the county—would soon +become extinct, for a daughter did not count in the General's +meditation. It did not occur to his mind as within the limits of +possibility that he himself should marry again. He had always hoped that +Sydney—twenty years younger than himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> and the husband of a fair +and blooming wife—would have a son to bear his name. Hitherto the +Sydney Vanes had been unfortunate in their offsprings. Of five beautiful +children only one had lived beyond the first few months of babyhood—and +that one was a girl! But father, mother, and uncle had gone on hoping +for better things. Now it seemed likely that little Enid, the +nine-year-old daughter, would be the last of the Vanes, and that with +the General the name of the family would finally die out.</p> + +<p>Beechfield Hall had long been known as one of the pleasantest houses in +the county. It was a large red-brick, comfortable-looking mansion, made +picturesque by a background of lofty trees, and by the ivy and Virginia +creeper and clematis in which it was embowered, rather than by the style +of its architecture. Along the front of the building ran a wide terrace, +with stone balustrades and flights of steps at either end leading to the +flower garden, which sloped down to an ornamental piece of water fed by +springs from the rich meadow-land beyond. This terrace and the +exquisitely-kept garden gave the house a stateliness of aspect, which it +would have lost if severed from its surroundings; but the General was +proud of every stick and stone about the place, and could never be +brought to see that its beauty existed chiefly in his own fond +imagination.</p> + +<p>Whether Beechfield Hall was beautiful or not, however, mattered little +to the county squires and their families, to whom it had been for many +years a centre of life and gaiety. The General and his brother were +hunting-men; they had a capital stud, and were always ready to give +their friends a mount in the hunting season. They preserved strictly, +and could offer good shooting and good fishing to their neighbors; and +they were liberal of such offers—they were generous and hospitable in +every sense of the word. Mrs. Sydney Vane was of a similar disposition. +Her dances, her dinners, her garden-parties, were said to be the most +enjoyable in the county. She was young and pretty, vivacious and +agreeable, as fond of society as her husband and her brother-in-law, +always ready to fill her house with guests, to make up a party or +organise a pic-nic, adored by all young people in the neighborhood, the +chosen friend and confidante of half the older ones. And now the +innocent mirth and cordial hospitality of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> Beechfield Hall had come to +an untimely end. Poor Sydney Vane was laid to rest in the little green +churchyard behind the woodland slope which fronted the terrace and the +lawn. His wife, prostrated by the shock of his death, had never left her +room since the news of it was brought to her; his brother, the genial +and warm-hearted General, looked for the first time like a feeble old +man, and seemed almost beside himself. Even little Enid was pale and +frightened, and had lost her inclination for mirth and laughter. The +servants moved about in their sombre mourning garments with grave faces +and hushed, awe-stricken ways. It seemed almost incredible that so great +a misfortune should have fallen upon the house, that its brightness +should be quenched so utterly.</p> + +<p>As soon as the misfortune that had befallen the Vanes was made known, +the General's maiden-sister descended from London upon the house, and +took possession, but not in any imperious or domineering way. Miss +Leonora Vane was far too shrewd and too kindly a woman to be aught but +helpful and sympathetic at such a time. But it was in her nature to +rule—she could not help making her influence felt wherever she went, +and the reins of government fell naturally into her hands as soon as she +appeared upon the scene. She was the General's junior by five years +only, and had always looked on Sydney and his wife as poor, +irresponsible, frivolous young creatures, quite incapable of managing +their own affairs. A difference of opinion on this point had driven her +to London, where she had a nice little house in Kensington, and was +great on committees and boards of management. But real sorrow chased all +considerations of her own dignity or comfort from her mind. She hurried +down to Beechfield as soon as she knew of her brother's need; and during +the weary days and weeks between Sydney's death and Westwood's trial, +she had been invaluable as a friend, helper, and capable mistress of the +disorganised household.</p> + +<p>She sat one June morning at the head of the breakfast-table in the +dining-room at Beechfield Hall, with an unaccustomed look of +dissatisfaction and perplexity upon her handsome resolute face. Miss +Vane was a woman of fifty, but her black hair showed scarcely a line of +silver, and her brown eyes were as keen and bright as they had ever +been. With her smooth, unwrinkled forehead, her colorless but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> healthy +complexion, and her thin well-braced figure, she looked ten years +younger than her age. Not often was her composure disturbed, but on this +occasion trouble and anxiety were both evinced by the knitting of her +brows and the occasional twitching of her usually firm lips. She sat +behind the coffee-urn, but she had finished her own breakfast long +since, and was now occupying her ever-busy fingers with some knitting +until her brother should appear. But her hands were unsteady, and at +last, with an exclamation of disgust, she laid down her knitting-pins, +and crossed the long white fingers closely over one another in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Surely Hubert got my telegram!" she murmured to herself. "I wish he +would come—oh, how I wish that he would come!"</p> + +<p>She moved in her seat so as to be able to see the marble clock on the +massive oak mantelpiece. The hands pointed to the hour of nine. Miss +Vane rose and looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"He might have taken the early train from town. If he had, he would be +here by this time. But no doubt he did not think it worth while. 'An old +woman's fancy!' he said to himself perhaps. Hubert was never very +tolerant of other people's fancies, though he has plenty of his own, +Heaven knows! Ah, there he comes, thank Heaven! For once he has done +what I wished—dear boy!"</p> + +<p>Miss Vane's hard countenance softened as she said the words. She sank +down into her chair again, crossed her hands once more upon her knees, +and assumed the attitude of impenetrable rigidity intended to impress +the observer with a sense of her indifference to all mankind. But the +new-comer, who entered from the terrace at that moment, was too well +used to Miss Vane's ways and manners to be much impressed.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, aunt Leo. I have obeyed your orders, you see," he said, +as he bent down and touched her forehead lightly with his lips.</p> + +<p>He was a young man, not more than one or two and twenty, but he had +already lost much of the freshness and youthfulness of his years. He was +of middle height, rather slenderly built, well dressed, well brushed, +with the air of high-bred distinction which is never attained save by +those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> to the manner born. His face was singularly handsome, strong, yet +refined, with sharply-cut features, dark eyes and hair, a heavy black +moustache, and a grave, almost melancholy expression—altogether a +striking face, not one easily to be forgotten or overlooked. As he +seated himself quietly at the breakfast-table, and replied to some query +of his aunt's respecting the hour of his arrival, it occurred to Miss +Vane that he was looking remarkably tired and unwell. The line of his +cheek, always somewhat sharp, seemed to have fallen in, there were dark +shadows beneath his eyes, and his olive complexion had assumed the +slightly livid tints which sometimes mark ill-health. In spite of her +preoccupation with other matters, Miss Vane could not repress a comment +on his appearance.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing with yourself, Hubert? You look positively +ghastly!"</p> + +<p>"Do I!" said Hubert, glancing up with a ready smile. "I shouldn't +wonder. I was up all last night with some fellows that I know—we made a +night of it, aunt Leo—and I have naturally a headache this morning."</p> + +<p>"You deserve it then. Surely you might have chosen a more fitting time +for a carouse!"</p> + +<p>It seemed to her, curiously enough, that he gave a little shiver and +drew in his lips beneath his dark moustache. But he answered with his +usual indifference of manner.</p> + +<p>"It was hardly a carouse. I can't undertake to make a recluse of myself, +my dear aunt, in spite of the family troubles."</p> + +<p>"Hubert, don't be so heartless!" cried Miss Vane imperiously; then, +checking herself, she pressed her thin lips slightly together and sat +silent, with her eyes fixed on the cups before her.</p> + +<p>"Am I heartless? Well, I suppose I am," said the young man, with a +slight mocking smile in which his eyes seemed to take no part. "I am +sorry, but really I can't help it. In the meantime perhaps you will give +me a cup of coffee—for I am famishing after my early flight from +town—and tell me why you telegraphed for me in such a hurry last +night."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane filled his cup with a hand that trembled still. Hubert Lepel +watched her movements with interest. He did not often see his kinswoman +display so much agitation. She was not his aunt by any tie of blood—she +was a far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>away cousin only; but ever since his babyhood he had addressed +her by that title.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you," she said at last, speaking jerkily and hurriedly, as +if the effort were almost more than she could bear—"I sent for you to +tell the General what you yourself telegraphed to me last night."</p> + +<p>A flush of dull red color stole into the young man's face. He looked at +her intently, with a contracted brow.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," he said, after a moment's pause, "that you have not told +him yet?"</p> + +<p>Miss Vane averted her eyes.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered; "I have not told him. You will think me weak—I +suppose I am weak, Hubert—but I dared not tell him."</p> + +<p>"And you summoned me from London to break the news? For no other +reason?"</p> + +<p>Miss Vane nodded,—"That was all."</p> + +<p>Hubert bit his lip and sipped his coffee before saying another word.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Leo," he said, after a silence during which Miss Vane gave +unequivocal signs of nervousness, "I really must say that I think the +proceeding was unnecessary." He leaned back in his chair and toyed with +his spoon, a whiteness which Miss Vane was accustomed to interpret as a +sign of anger showing itself about his nostrils and his lips. She had +long looked upon it as an ominous sign.</p> + +<p>"Hubert, Hubert, don't be angry—don't refuse to help me!" she said, in +pleading tones, such as he had never heard from her before. "I assure +you that my post in this house is no sinecure. Poor Marion"—she spoke +of Mrs. Sydney Vane—"is rapidly sinking into her grave. Ay, you may +well start! She has never got over the shock of Sydney's death, and the +excitement of the last few days seems to have increased her malady. She +insisted on having every report of the trial read to her; and ever since +the conviction she has grown weaker, until the doctor says that she can +hardly outlast the week. Oh, that wicked man—that murderer—has much to +answer for!" said Miss Vane, clasping her hands passionately together.</p> + +<p>Hubert was silent; his eyebrows were drawn down over his eyes, his face +was strangely white.</p> + +<p>"Your uncle," Miss Vane continued sadly, "is nearly heart-broken. You +know how much he loved poor Sydney,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> how much he cares for Marion. He +has been a different man ever since that terrible day. I am afraid for +his health—for his reason even, if——"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, stop," said the young man hoarsely. "I can't bear +this enumeration of misfortunes; it—it makes me—ill! Don't say any +more."</p> + +<p>He pushed back his chair, rose, and went to the sideboard, where he +poured out a glass of water from the carafe and drank it off. Then he +leaned both elbows on the damask-covered mahogany surface, and rested +his forehead on his hands. Miss Vane stared at his bowed head, at his +bent figure, with unfeigned amazement. She thought that she knew Hubert +well, and she had never numbered over-sensitiveness amongst his virtues +or vices. She concluded that the last night's dissipation had been too +much for his nerves.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she said at length, "you must be ill."</p> + +<p>"I believe I am," the young man answered. He raised his face from his +hands, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped his forehead with it before +turning round. It were well that his aunt should not see the cold drops +of perspiration standing upon his brow. He tried to laugh as he came +forward to the table once more. "You must excuse me," he said. "I have +not been well for the last few days, and your list of disasters quite +upset me."</p> + +<p>"My poor boy," said aunt Leo, looking at him tenderly. "I am afraid that +I have been very thoughtless! I should have remembered that these last +few weeks have been as trying to you as to all of us. You always loved +Marion and Sydney."</p> + +<p>It would have been impossible for her to interpret aright the +involuntary spasm of feeling that flashed across Hubert's face, the +uncontrollable shudder that ran through all his frame. Impossible +indeed! How could she fancy that he said to himself as he heard her +words——</p> + +<p>"Loved Sydney Vane! Merciful powers, I never sank to that level, at any +rate! When I think of what I now know of him, I am glad to remember that +he was my enemy!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>At that moment a heavy step was heard in the hall, a hand fumbled with +the lock of the door. Miss Vane glanced apprehensively at Hubert.</p> + +<p>"He is there," she said—"he is coming in. The London papers will arrive +in half an hour. Hubert, don't leave him to learn the news from the +papers or from his London lawyer."</p> + +<p>"What harm if he did?" muttered Hubert; but, before Miss Vane could +reply, the door was opened and the General entered the room.</p> + +<p>He was a tall, white-haired man, with a stoop in his shoulders which had +not been perceptible a year before. His finely-cut features strongly +resembled those of his sister, but there was some weakness in the +slightly receding chin, some hint of irresolution in the lines of the +handsome mouth, which could not be found in Leonora Vane's expressive +countenance. The General's eyes were remarkably fine, clear and blue as +sea-water or the sky, but their expression on this occasion was +peculiar. They had a wild, wandering, irresolute look which impressed +Hubert painfully. He rose respectfully from his chair as the old man +came in; but for a moment or two the General gazed at him +unrecognisingly.</p> + +<p>"Hubert has come to spend the day with us, Richard," said Miss Vane.</p> + +<p>"Hubert? Oh, yes, Hubert Lepel!" murmured the General, as if recalling a +forgotten name. "Florence Lepel's brother—a cousin of ours, I believe? +Glad to see you, Hubert," said the General, suddenly awakening, +apparently from a dream. "Did you come down this morning? From London or +from Whitminster?"</p> + +<p>"From London, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—from London! I thought perhaps that you had been"—the +General's voice sank to a husky whisper—"to see that fellow get his +deserts. Hush—don't speak of it before Leonora; ladies should not hear +about these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> things, you know!" He caught Hubert by the sleeve and drew +him aside. "The execution was to be this morning; did you not know?" he +said, fixing his wild eyes upon the young man's paling face. "Eight +o'clock was the hour; it must be over by now. Well, well—the Lord have +mercy upon his sinful soul!"</p> + +<p>"Amen!" Hubert muttered between his closed teeth. Then he seemed to make +a violent effort to control himself—to assume command over his +kinsman's disordered mind. "Come, sir," he said—"you must not talk like +that. Think no more of that wretched man. You know there was a chance—a +loophole. Some people were not convinced that he was guilty. There have +been petitions signed by hundreds of people, I believe, to the Home +Secretary for mercy."</p> + +<p>"Mercy—mercy!" shouted the General, his pale face growing first red and +then purple from excitement. "Who talks of mercy to that ruffian? But +Harbury"—naming the Home Secretary for the time being—"Harbury will +stand firm; Harbury will never yield! I would take my oath that Harbury +won't give in! Such a miscarriage of justice was never heard of! Don't +talk to me of it! Harbury knows his duty; and the man has been +punished—the man is dead!"</p> + +<p>Hubert's voice trembled a little as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"The man is not dead, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>The General turned upon him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Was not this morning fixed for the—is this not the twenty-fifth?" he +said. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, during which he read the answer to his +question in Hubert's melancholy eyes. Miss Vane held her breath; she saw +her brother stagger as if a sudden dizziness had seized him; he caught +at the back of an antique heavily-carved oak chair for support. In the +pause she noted involuntarily the beauty of the golden sunshine that +filled every corner of the luxuriously-appointed room, intensifying the +glow of color in the Persian carpet, illuminating as with fire the +brass-work and silver-plate which decorated the table and the sideboard, +vividly outlining in varied tones of delicate hues the masses of June +roses that filled every vase and bowl in the room. The air was full of +perfume—nothing but beauty met the eye; and yet, in spite of this +material loveliness, how black<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> and evil, how unutterably full of +sadness, did the world appear to Leonora Vane just then! And, if she +could have seen into the heart of one at least of the men who stood +before her, she would almost have died of grief and shame.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean," stammered the General, "that the ruffian who murdered +my brother—has been—reprieved?"</p> + +<p>"It is said, sir, that imprisonment for life is a worse punishment than +death," said Hubert gently. The face of no man—even of one condemned to +life-long punishment—could have expressed deeper gloom than his own as +he said the words. Yet mingling with the gloom there was something +inflexible that gave it almost a repellent character. It was as if he +would have thrown any show or pity back into the face of those who +offered it, and defied the world to sympathise with him on account of +some secret trouble which he had brought upon himself.</p> + +<p>"Worse than death—worse than death!" repeated the old man. "I do not +know what you mean, sir. I shall go up to town at once and see Harbury +about this matter. It is in his hands——"</p> + +<p>"Not now," interposed Hubert. "The Queen——"</p> + +<p>"The Queen will hear reason, sir! I will make my way to her presence, +and speak to her myself. She will not refuse the prayer of an old man +who has served his country as long and as faithfully as I have done. I +will tell her the story myself, and she will see justice done—justice +on the man who murdered my brother!"</p> + +<p>His voice grew louder and his breath came in choking gasps between the +words. His face was purple, the veins on his forehead were swollen and +his eyes bloodshot; with one hand he was leaning on the table, with the +other he gesticulated violently, shaking the closed fist almost in +Hubert's face, as if he mistook him for the murderer himself. It was a +pitiable sight. The old man had completely lost his self-command, and +his venerable white hairs and bowed form accentuated the harrowing +effect which his burst of passion produced upon his hearers. Hubert +stood silent, spell-bound, as it seemed, with sorrow and dismay; but +Miss Vane, shaking off her unwonted timidity, went up to her brother and +laid her hand upon his outstretched quivering arm.</p> + +<p>"Richard, Richard, do not speak in that way!" she said. "It is not +Christian—it is not even human. You are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> a man who would wish to +take away a fellow-creature's life or to rob him of a chance of +repentance."</p> + +<p>The General's hand fell, but his eyes flamed with the look of an +infuriated beast of prey as he turned them on Miss Leonora.</p> + +<p>"You are a woman," he said harshly, "and, as a woman, you may be weak; +but I am a man and a soldier, and would die for the honor of my family. +Not take away that man's life? I swear to you that, if I had him here, I +would kill him with my own hands! Does not the Scripture tell us that a +life shall be given for a life?"</p> + +<p>"It tells us that vengeance is the Lord's, Richard, and that He will +repay."</p> + +<p>"Yes—by the hands of His servants, Leonora. Are you so base as not to +desire the punishment of your brother's murderer! If so, never speak to +me, never come near my house again! And you, young gentleman, get ready +to come with me to London at once! I will see Harbury before the day is +over."</p> + +<p>"My dear General," said Hubert, looking exceedingly perplexed, "I think +that you will hardly find Harbury in town. I heard yesterday that he was +leaving London for a few days."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, sir! Leaving London before the close of the session! +Impossible! But we can get his address and follow him, I suppose? I will +see Harbury to-night!"</p> + +<p>"It will be useless," said Hubert, with resignation, "but, if you +insist——"</p> + +<p>"I do insist! The honor of my house is at stake, and I shall do my +utmost to bring that ruffian to the gallows! I cannot understand you +young fellows of the present day, cold-blooded, effeminate, without +natural affection—I cannot understand it, I say. Ring the bell for +Saunders; tell him to put up my bag. I will go at once—this very +moment—this——"</p> + +<p>The General's voice suddenly faltered and broke. For some time his words +had been almost unintelligible; they ran into one another, as if his +tongue was not under the control of his will. His face, first red, then +purple, was nearly black, and a slight froth was showing itself upon his +discolored lips. As his sister and cousin looked at him in alarm, they +saw that he staggered backwards as if about to fall. Hubert sprang +forward and helped him to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> his chair, where he lay back, with his eyes +half closed, breathing stertorously, and apparently almost unconscious. +The rage, the excitement, had proved too much for his physical strength; +he was on the verge, if he had not absolutely succumbed to it, of an +apoplectic fit.</p> + +<p>The doctor was sent for in haste. All possibility of the General's +expedition to London was out of the question, very much to Miss Vane's +relief. She had been dreading an illness of this kind for some days, and +it was this fear which had caused her to telegraph for Hubert before +breaking to her brother the news that she herself had learned the night +before. She had seen her father die of a similar attack, and had been +roused to watchfulness by symptoms of excitement in her brother's manner +during the last few days. The blow had fallen now, and she could only be +thankful that matters were no worse.</p> + +<p>When the doctor had come—he was met half-way up the drive by the +messenger, on his way to pay a morning visit to Mrs. Sydney—and when he +had superintended the removal of the General to his room, Hubert was +left for a time alone. He quitted the dining-room and made his way to +his favorite resort at Beechfield Hall—a spacious conservatory which +ran the whole length of one side of the house. Into this conservatory, +now brilliant with exotics, several rooms opened, one after another—a +small breakfast-room, a study, a library, billiard-room, and +smoking-room. These all communicated with each other as well as with the +conservatory, and it was as easy as it was delightful to exchange the +neighborhood of books or pipes or billiard-balls for that of Mrs. Vane's +orchids and stephanotis-blossoms. Poor Mrs. Vane used to grumble over +the conservatory. It was on the wrong side of the house—the gentlemen's +side, she called it—and did not run parallel with the drawing-room; but +the very oddness of the arrangement seemed to please her guests.</p> + +<p>Hubert had always liked to smoke his morning cigar amongst the flowers, +and, as he paced slowly up and down the tesselated floor, and inhaled +the heavy perfume of the myrtles and the heliotrope, his features +relaxed a little, his eyes grew less gloomy and his brow more tranquil. +He glanced round him with an air almost of content, and drew a deep +breath.</p> + +<p>"If one could live amongst flowers all one's life, away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> from the crimes +and follies of the rest of the world, how happy one might be!" he said +to himself half cynically, half sadly, as he stooped to puff away the +green-fly from a delicate plant with the smoke of his cigar. "That's +impossible, however. There's no chance of a monastery in these modern +days! What wouldn't I give just now to be out of all this—this +misery—this deviltry?" He put a strong and bitter accent on the last +word. "But I see no way out of it—none!"</p> + +<p>"There is no way out of it—for you," a voice near him said.</p> + +<p>Without knowing it, he had spoken aloud. This answer to his reverie +startled him exceedingly. He wheeled round to discover whence it came, +and, to his surprise, found himself close to the open library window, +where, just inside the room, a girl was sitting in a low cushioned +chair.</p> + +<p>He took the cigar from his mouth and held it between his fingers as he +looked at her, his brow contracting with anger rather than with +surprise. He stood thus two or three minutes, as if expecting her to +speak, but she did not even raise her eyes. She was a tall, fair girl +with hair of the palest flaxen, artistically fluffed out and curled upon +her forehead, and woven into a magnificent coronet upon her graceful +head; her downcast eyelids were peculiarly large and white, and, when +raised, revealed the greatest beauty and the greatest surprise of her +face—a pair of velvety dark-brown eyes, which had the curious power of +assuming a reddish tint when she was angry or disturbed. Her skin was of +the perfect creaminess which sometimes accompanies red hair—and it was +whispered by her acquaintances that Florence Lepel's flaxen locks had +once been of a decidedly carroty tinge, and that their present pallor +had been attained by artificial means. Whether this was the case or not +it could not be denied that their color was now very becoming to her +pale complexion, and that they constituted the chief of Miss Lepel's +many acknowledged charms. For, in a rather strange and uncanny way, +Florence Lepel was a beautiful woman; and, though critics said that she +was too thin, that her neck was too long, her face too pale and narrow, +her hair too colorless for beauty, there were many for whom a distinct +fascination lay in the unusual combination of these features.</p> + +<p>She was dressed from head to foot in sombre black,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> which made her neck +and hands appear almost dazzlingly white. Perhaps it was also the +sombreness of her attire which gave a look of fragility—an almost +painful fragility—to her appearance. Hubert noted, half unconsciously, +that her figure was more willowy than ever, that the veins on her +temples and her long white hands were marked with extraordinary +distinctness, that there were violet shadows on the large eyelids and +beneath the drooping lashes. But, for all that, the bitter sternness of +his expression did not change. When he spoke, it was in a particularly +severe tone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>"I should be obliged to you," he said, still holding his cigar between +his fingers, and looking down at her with a very dark frown upon his +face, "if you would kindly tell me exactly what you mean."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Florence Lepel raised her beautiful eyes at last to her brother's face.</p> + +<p>"I only repeat what you yourself have said. There is no way out of +it—for you."</p> + +<p>Her voice was quite even and expressionless, but Hubert's face +contracted at the sound of her words as if they hurt him. He raised his +cigar mechanically to his lips, found that it had gone out, and, instead +of relighting it, threw it away angrily from him amongst the flowers. +His sister, her eyes keen notwithstanding the velvety softness of their +glance, saw that his hands trembled as he did so.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have some conversation with you," he said, in a tone +that betokened irritation, "if you can spare a little time from your +duties."</p> + +<p>"They are not particularly engrossing just now," said Miss Lepel evenly, +indicating the book that lay upon her lap. "I am improving my mind by +the study of the French language," she said. "The General knows nothing +of French authors since the days of Racine, and will think me quite +laudably employed in reading a modern French novel."</p> + +<p>"The General is not likely to find you anywhere to-day, nor for many a +day to come."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>"Is he dead?" asked his sister, ruffling the pages of her book. She did +not look as if anybody's death could disturb her perfect equanimity.</p> + +<p>"Are you a fiend, Florence," Hubert burst out angrily, "that you can +speak in that manner of a man who has been so great a benefactor, so +kind a friend, to both of us? Have you no heart at all?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure. If ever I had one, I think that it was killed—three +months ago."</p> + +<p>Her voice sank to a whisper as she uttered the last few words. Her +breath came a little faster for a second or two—then she was calm +again. Her brother looked at her with an air of stupefaction.</p> + +<p>"How dare you allude to that shameful episode in your life," he said +sternly, "and to me, of all people!"</p> + +<p>"If not to you, I should certainly speak of it to no one," she answered +quietly. There was a sudden blaze of light in the red-brown eyes beneath +the heavily-veined eyelids.</p> + +<p>"You are my only safety-valve; I must speak sometimes—or die. +Besides"—in a still lower tone—"I see nothing shameful about it. We +have done no harm. If he loved me better than he loved his chattering +commonplace little wife, I was not to blame. How could I help it if I +loved him too? It was <i>kismet</i>—it had to be. You should not have +interfered."</p> + +<p>"And pray what would have happened if I had not interfered? What shame, +what ruin, what disgrace!"</p> + +<p>"It is useless for you to rant and rave in that manner," said Florence +Lepel, letting her eyes drop once more to the open pages of her French +novel. "You did interfere, and there is an end of it. And what an end! +You must be proud of your work. He dead, Marion dying, the General +nearly mad with grief, the man Westwood hanged for a crime that he never +committed!"</p> + +<p>"Westwood has been reprieved," said Hubert sharply.</p> + +<p>"What a relief to you!" commented his sister, with almost incredible +coolness.</p> + +<p>He turned away from her, catching at his throat as if something rose to +choke him there. His face was very pale; the lines of pain about his +eyes and mouth were plainer and deeper than they had been before. +Florence glanced up at him and smiled faintly. There was a strange +malignity in her smile.</p> + +<p>"You can tell me," she said, when the silence had lasted for some +minutes, "what you meant by saying that the General would not find me +here to-day."</p> + +<p>"He has narrowly escaped a fit of apoplexy. He is to be kept quiet; he +will not be able to see any one for some days to come."</p> + +<p>"Oh! What brought it on?"</p> + +<p>"The news," Hubert answered reluctantly, "of Westwood's reprieve."</p> + +<p>Miss Lepel smiled again.</p> + +<p>"Was he so very angry?" she said. "Ah, he would do anything in his power +to bring his brother's murderer to justice—I have heard him say so a +hundred times! You ought to be very grateful to me, Hubert, for +remembering that you are my brother."</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven I were not!" cried the young man.</p> + +<p>"For some things I wish you were not too," said Florence slowly. She sat +up, clasped her white hands round her knees, and looked at him +reflectively. "If you had not been my brother, I suppose you would not +have interfered," she went on. "You would have left me to pursue my +wicked devices, and simply turned your back on me and Sydney Vane. I +agree with you. I wish to Heaven—if you like that form of +expression—that you were not my brother, Hubert Lepel! You have made +the misery of my life."</p> + +<p>"And you the disgrace of mine!" he said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Then we are quits," she answered, in the listless, passionless voice +that she seemed especially to affect. "We need not reproach each other; +we have each had something to bear at one another's hands."</p> + +<p>"Florence," said Hubert—and his voice trembled a little as he +spoke—"what are you going to do? It is, as you say, useless for us to +reproach each other for the past; but for the future let me at least be +certain that my sacrifice will avail to keep you in a right path, that +you will not again—not again——"</p> + +<p>"This is very edifying," said Florence quietly, as the young man broke +off short in his speech, and turned away with a despairing stamp of the +foot—his sister's face would have discomfited a man of far greater +moral courage than poor Hubert Lepel—"it is something new for me to be +lectured by my younger brother, whose course has surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> not been quite +irreproachable, I should imagine! Come, Hubert—do not be so absurd! You +have acted according to your lights, as the old women say, and I +according to mine. There is nothing more for us to talk about. Let us +quit the subject; the past is dead."</p> + +<p>"I tell you that it is the future that I concern myself about. Upon my +honor, Florence, I did not know that you were here when I came down +to-day! I thought that you had gone to your friend Mrs. Bartolet at +Worcester, as you said to me that you would when I saw you last. Why +have you not gone? You said that life here was now intolerable to you. I +remember your very words, although I have not been here for weeks."</p> + +<p>"Your memory does you credit," said the girl, with slow scorn.</p> + +<p>"Why have you stayed?"</p> + +<p>"For my own ends—not yours."</p> + +<p>"So I suppose."</p> + +<p>"My dear brother Hubert," said Florence, composing herself in a graceful +attitude in the depths of her basket-chair, "can you not be persuaded to +go your own way and leave me to go mine? You have done a good deal of +mischief already, don't you know? You have ruined my prospects, +destroyed my hopes—if I were sentimental, I might say, broken my heart! +Is not that enough for you? For mercy's sake, go your own way +henceforward, and let me do as I please!"</p> + +<p>"But what is your way? What do you please?"</p> + +<p>"Is it well for me to tell you after the warning I have had?"</p> + +<p>"If you had a worthy plan, an honorable ambition, you could easily tell +me. Again I ask, Why are you here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, why?" repeated Florence, her lip curling, and, for the first time, +a slight color flushing her pale cheeks. "Why? Your dull wits will not +even compass that, will they? Well, partly because I am a thoroughly +worldly woman, or rather a woman of the world—because it is not well to +give up a good home, a luxurious life, and a large salary, when they are +to be had for the asking—because as Enid Vane's governess, I can have +as much freedom and as little work as I choose. Is not that answer +enough for you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hubert doggedly, "it is not."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>She shrugged her graceful shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It should be, I think. But I will go on. I look three-and-twenty, but +you know as well as I do that I am twenty-nine. In another year I shall +be thirty—horrible thought! An attack of illness, even a little more +trouble, such as this that I have lately undergone, will make me look my +full age. Do you know what that means to a woman?" She pressed her +eyelids and the hollows beneath her eyes with her fingers. "When I look +in the glass, I see already what I shall be when I am forty. I must make +the best of my youth and of my good looks. You spoiled one chance in +life for me; I must make what I can of the other."</p> + +<p>"You mean," said the young man, with white dry lips, which he vainly +attempted to moisten as he spoke—"you mean—that you must make what the +world calls a good marriage?"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"At last you have grasped my meaning," she said coldly; "you have +hitherto been exceedingly slow to do so."</p> + +<p>He looked at her silently for a moment or two, almost with abhorrence. +Her fair and delicate beauty affected him with a sort of loathing; he +could not believe that this woman with the cold lips and malignant eyes +had been born of his mother, had played with him in childhood, had +kissed him with loving kisses, and spoken to him in sisterly caressing +fashion. It took him some minutes to conquer the terrible hatred which +grew up within him towards her, as he remembered all that she had been +and all that she had done; but, when at last he was able to speak, his +voice was calm and studiously gentle.</p> + +<p>"Florence," he said, "I will not forget that you are my sister. You bear +my name, you come of my race, and, whatever you do and whatever you are, +I cannot desert you. I promised our mother on her death-bed that I would +care for you as long as you needed care; and, if ever you needed it in +your life, you need it now! I have not done my duty to you during the +past few weeks. I have left you to yourself, and thought I could never +forgive you for what you had done. But now I see that I was wrong. If it +would be of any service to you, I would make a home for you at once—I +would place all my means at your disposal. Come back with me to London, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> let us make a home for ourselves together. We are both weary, both +have suffered; could we not try to console and strengthen each other?"</p> + +<p>The wistfulness of his tone, of his looks, would have softened any heart +that was not hard as stone. But Florence Lepel's pale face was utterly +unmoved.</p> + +<p>"You offer me a brilliant lot," she said—"to live in a garret, I +suppose, and darn your stockings, while you earn a paltry pittance as a +literary man, eked out by aunt Leo's charity! You know very well that +sooner than do that I put up for two years with Marion Vane's patronage +and the drudgery of the schoolroom! And now, when the woman who +alternately scolded and cajoled me, the woman who once took it upon her +to lecture me for my behavior to her husband, the woman whom I hated as +I should hate a poisonous snake—when that woman is slowly dying and +leaving the field to me, am I to throw up the game, give up my chances, +and go to vegetate with you in London? You know me very little if you +think I would do that."</p> + +<p>"I seem to have known you very little all my life," said Hubert +bitterly. "I certainly do not understand you now. What can you get by +staying here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, of course!" she answered tranquilly.</p> + +<p>"What is your scheme, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"It is of no use telling you—you might interfere again."</p> + +<p>The anguish of doubt and anxiety in his dark eyes, if she had looked at +him, would surely have moved her. But she did not look.</p> + +<p>"I mean to stay here," she said quietly, "teaching Enid Vane, putting up +with aunt Leonora's impertinences as well as I can, until I get another +chance in the world. What that chance may be of course I cannot tell, +but I am certain that it will come."</p> + +<p>"You can bear to stay in this house which I—I—infinitely less +blameworthy than yourself—can hardly endure to enter?"</p> + +<p>"The world would not call you less blameworthy. I am glad that you are +so far on good terms with your conscience."</p> + +<p>"Florence," he said, almost threateningly, "take care! I will not spare +you another time. If I find you involved in any other transaction of +which you ought to be ashamed, I will expose you. I will tell the world +the truth—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> you were on the point of leaving England with Sydney +Vane when I—when I——"</p> + +<p>"When you shot him," she said, without a trace of emotion manifest in +either face or voice, "and let Andrew Westwood bear the blame."</p> + +<p>The young man winced as if he had received a blow.</p> + +<p>"It was to shield you that I kept silence," he said, passionate +agitation showing itself in his manner. "It was to save your good name. +But even for your sake I would not have let the man suffer death. If we +had obtained no reprieve for him, I swear that I would have given myself +up and borne the punishment!"</p> + +<p>"You were at work then? You tried to get the reprieve for him?" said his +sister, with the faintest possible touch of eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I did indeed." Hubert's voice fell into a lower key, as if he were +trying, miserably enough, to justify to himself, rather than to her, +what he had done. "It would be almost useless to confess my own guilt. +It would be thought that I was beside myself. Who would believe +me—unless you—you yourself corroborated my story? The man Westwood was +a poacher, a thief, wretchedly poor and in ill-health; he has no +character to lose, no friends to consider. Besides, he was morally +guiltier than I. I know that he was lying in wait for Sydney Vane; I +know that he had resolved to be revenged on him. Now I—I met my enemy +in fair fight; I did not lie in ambush for him."</p> + +<p>But from the darkness of his countenance it was plain that the young +man's conscience was not deceived by the specious plea that he had set +up for himself. Beneath her drooping eyelids Florence watched him +narrowly. She read him in his weakness, his bitterness of spirit, more +clearly than he could read himself. Suddenly she sat up and leaned +forward so that she could touch him with one of her soft cold hands—her +hands were always cold.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she said, with a gentle inflection of her voice which took him +by surprise, "I am perhaps not as bad as you think me, dear. I do not +want to quarrel with you—you are my only friend. You have saved me from +worse than death. I will not be ungrateful. I will do exactly as you +wish."</p> + +<p>He looked bewildered, almost dismayed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>"Do you mean it, Florence?" he asked doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"I do indeed. And, in return, oh, Hubert, will you set my mind at +rest by promising me one thing? You will give me another chance to +retrieve my wasted, ruined life, will you not? You will never tell +to another what you and I know alone? You will still shield +me—from—from—disgrace, Hubert—for our mother's sake?"</p> + +<p>The tears trembled on her lashes; she slipped down from her low chair +and knelt by his side, clasping her hands over his half-reluctant +fingers, appealing to him with voice and look alike; and, in an evil +hour for himself, he promised at any cost to shield her from the +consequences of her folly and his sin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>"Oh, you two are here together!" There was a note of surprise in Miss +Vane's voice as she turned the corner of a great group of +foliage-plants, and came upon brother and sister at the open library +window. "I could not tell what had become of either of you. If you have +finished your conversation"—with a sharp glance from Florence's wet +eyelashes to Hubert's pale agitated face—"I have work for both of you. +Florence, Enid has been alone all the morning; do take the child for a +walk and let her have a little fresh air! And I want you to go for a +stroll with me, Hubert; the General is sleeping quietly, and I have two +or three things to consult you about before I go up to Marion."</p> + +<p>The sudden gleam in Florence's eyes, quickly as it was concealed, did +not escape Miss Leonora's notice as she moved away.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with Flossy?" she asked abruptly, stopping to throw +over her head a black-lace scarf which she had been carrying on her arm. +"She has been crying."</p> + +<p>"She feels the trouble that has come upon us all, I suppose," said +Hubert rather awkwardly. He pressed forward a little, so as to hold open +the conservatory door for his aunt. He was glad of the opportunity of +averting his face for a moment from the scrutiny of her keen eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>"That is not all," said Miss Vane, as she quitted the great glass-house, +with its wealth of bloom and perfume, for the freshness of the outer +air. She struck straight across the sunny lawn, leaving the house +behind. "That is not all. Come away from the house—I don't want what I +have to say to you to be overheard, and walls have ears sometimes. Your +sister Florence, Hubert, was never remarkable for a very feeling heart. +She is, and always was, the most unsympathetic person I ever knew."</p> + +<p>"She has perhaps greater depth of feeling than we give her credit for," +said Hubert, thinking of certain words that had been said, of certain +scenes on which his eyes had rested in by-gone days.</p> + +<p>"Not she—excuse me! Hubert, I know that she is your sister, and that +men do not like to hear their sisters spoken against; but I must remind +you that Florence lived ten years under my roof, and that a woman is +more likely to understand a girl's nature than a young man."</p> + +<p>"I never pretended to understand Florence," said Hubert helplessly; "she +got beyond me long ago."</p> + +<p>"She is a good deal older than you, my dear, and she has had more +experiences than she would like to have known. How do I know? I only +guess, but I am certain of what I say. She is nine-and-twenty, and she +has been out in the world for the last eight years. There is no telling +what she may not have gone through in that space of time."</p> + +<p>Hubert was dumb—it was not in his power just then to contradict his +aunt's assertions.</p> + +<p>"I would gladly have kept her under the shelter of my roof," said Miss +Vane, pursuing the tenor of her thoughts without much reference to her +listener's condition of mind; "but you know as well as I do that she +refused to live with me after she was twenty-one—would be a governess. +Ugh! Wonder how she liked it?"</p> + +<p>"She seemed to like it very well; she stayed four years in Russia."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and hoped to get married there, but failed. I know Flossy. She +must have mismanaged matters frightfully, for she is an attractive girl. +She went to Scotland then for a year or two, you know, and was engaged +for a time to that young Scotch laird—I never heard why the engagement +was broken off."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>"Why are you deep in these reminiscences, aunt Leonora?" asked Hubert, +with an uneasiness which he tried to conceal by a nervous little laugh. +"I should have thought that you would be absorbed in anxiety for the +General; and, as for me, I want to know what the doctor says about the +dear old boy."</p> + +<p>"I am absorbed in anxiety for him," said Miss Vane decisively; "and that +is just why I am calling these little details of Florence's history to +your mind. As to the General's health, the doctor says that we may be +easier about it now than we have been for many a day. The crisis that we +have been expecting has come and passed, and we may be thankful that he +is no worse. If he keeps quiet, he will be about again in a few days, +and may not have another attack for years."</p> + +<p>"And Marion?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor Marion! She is not long for this world, Hubert. I must be back +with her at twelve. Till then the nurse has possession and I am free. +Poor soul! It is a dark ending to what seemed a bright enough life. Her +mind has failed of late as much as her body."</p> + +<p>Hubert could not reply.</p> + +<p>"Sit down here," said Miss Vane, as they reached a rustic seat beneath a +great copper-beech-tree on the farther side of the lawn. "Here we can +see the house and be seen from it; if they want me, they will know where +to find me. I am not speaking at random, Hubert; there is a thing that I +want to say to you about your sister Florence."</p> + +<p>Hubert seated himself at her side with a thrill of positive fear. Had +she some accusation to bring against his sister? He was miserably +conscious that he was quite unprepared to defend her against any +accusation whatsoever.</p> + +<p>"What I mean first of all to say," Miss Vane proceeded, looking straight +before her at the house, "is that Florence is a girl of an unusual +character. She looks very mild and meek, but she is not mild and meek at +all. Most girls are, on the whole, affectionate and well-principled and +timid; Flossy is not one of the three."</p> + +<p>"You are surely hard on her!"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not. Long ago I made up my mind that she wanted to get +married; that is nothing—every girl of her disposition wants more or +less to be married. But I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> came across a piece of information the other +day which made me feel almost glad that poor Sydney's life ended as it +did. There was danger ahead."</p> + +<p>"It is all done with now," said Hubert hurriedly; "why should you rake +up the past? Cannot it be left alone?"</p> + +<p>He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin supported by his +hands, a look of settled gloom upon his face. Miss Vane's eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean then?" she said sharply.</p> + +<p>Hubert started into an upright position, crossed his arms, and looked +her imperturbably in the face.</p> + +<p>"I have not the slightest idea of what you are going to say."</p> + +<p>"You know something, nevertheless," said Miss Vane, with equal +composure. "Well, I don't ask you to betray your sister. I only wish to +mention that, in looking over my brother Sydney's papers the other day, +I came across a letter from Florence which I consider extremely +compromising. It was written from Scotland while she was still engaged +to that young laird, but it showed plainly that some sort of +understanding subsisted between her and Sydney Vane. They must have met +several times without the knowledge of any other member of our family; +and it seems that she proffered her services to Marion as Enid's +governess at his instigation. What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Hubert deliberately, "that Florence has always proved +herself something of a plotter, and that the letter shows that she was +scheming to get a good situation. You can't possibly make anything more +out of it, aunt Leonora"—with a stormy glance. "I think you had better +not try."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane sat for a moment or two in deep meditation.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said at length, "that may be true, and I may be an old fool. +Perhaps I ought not to betray the girl to her brother either; but——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say the worst and get it over, by all means!" said Hubert +desperately, "Out with your accusation, if you have any to make!"</p> + +<p>Leonora Vane studied his face for a minute or two before replying. She +did not like the withered paleness about his mouth, the look of +suffering that was so evident in his haggard eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is hardly an accusation, Hubert," she said, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> sudden gentleness. +"I mean that I believe that she was in love—as far as a girl of her +disposition can be in love—with my brother Sydney. I need not tell you +how I have come to think so. In the first hours of our great loss she +betrayed herself. To me only—you need not be afraid that she would ever +wear her heart upon her sleeve, but to me she did betray her secret. +Whether Sydney returned her affection or not I am not quite sure—for +his wife's sake, I hope not."</p> + +<p>Again she looked keenly at her young kinsman; but he, with his eyes +fixed upon the ground and his lips compressed, did not seem disposed to +make any remark on what she had said.</p> + +<p>"I felt sorry for the girl," Miss Vane went on, "although I despised her +weakness in yielding to an affection for a married man. Still I thought +that her folly had brought its own punishment, and that I ought not to +be hard on her. Otherwise I should have recommended her to leave +Sydney's daughter alone, and get a situation in another house. I wish I +had. I cannot express too strongly to you, Hubert, how much I now wish I +had!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I misunderstood her," said his cousin slowly. "I thought that she had a +heart, and that she was grieving—innocently perhaps—over Sydney's +death."</p> + +<p>"Well, was she not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. If she ever cared for him at all, it was because she +wanted the ease and luxury that he could give her. For, if she cared for +him, Hubert—I put it to you as a matter of probability—could she +immediately after his death begin to plan a marriage with somebody +else?"</p> + +<p>Hubert looked up at last, with a startled expression upon his face.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, my dear boy, that your sister Florence now wants to marry the +General."</p> + +<p>In spite of his distress of mind, Hubert could not stifle a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Leonora, you are romancing! This is really too much!"</p> + +<p>"I should not mention it to you if I had not good reason," said Miss +Vane, with a series of mysterious nods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> "I have sharp eyes, Hubert, and +can see as far as most people. I repeat it—Florence wants to marry the +General."</p> + +<p>"She will not do that."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure—if she is left here when I am gone. I must go back to +London at some time or other, I suppose. But it won't do to leave Flossy +in possession."</p> + +<p>"She would not think of staying, surely, if——"</p> + +<p>"If poor Marion died? Yes, she would. Believe me, I know what I am +saying. I have watched her manner to him for the last few weeks, and I +feel sure of it. She has her own ends in view."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of that," said Hubert, rather bitterly. "But what are +we to do?"</p> + +<p>"Let our wits work against hers," replied Miss Vane briskly. "If poor +Marion dies, we must suggest to the General that Enid should go to +school. In that way we may get Florence out of the house without a +scene. But—mark my words, Hubert—she will not go until she is forced. +She is my second cousin once removed and your sister, but for all that +she is a scheming unprincipled intriguer and adventuress, who has never +brought and never will bring good to any house in which she lives. You +may try to get her away to London if you like, but you'll never +succeed."</p> + +<p>"I have tried already; I thought that she would be better with me," said +Hubert. "But it was of no use."</p> + +<p>"You offered her a home? You are a good fellow, Hubert! You have always +been a good brother to Florence, and I honor you for it," said Miss Vane +heartily.</p> + +<p>"Don't say so, aunt Leo; I'm not worth it," said the young man, starting +up and walking two or three paces from her, then returning to her side. +"I only wish that I could do more for her—poor Florence!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Florence indeed!" echoed Miss Vane, with tart significance. "But I +must go, Hubert. See her again, and persuade her, if you can, to leave +Beechfield. Don't tell her what I have said to you. She is suspicious +already and will want to know. Did you notice the look she gave me when +I said that I wished to talk to you? Be on your guard."</p> + +<p>"I shall not have time to talk with her much. I must go back to London +by the four o'clock train."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>"Must you? Well, do your best. See—the blind is drawn up in Marion's +dressing-room—a sign that I am wanted;" and Miss Vane turned towards +the house.</p> + +<p>Hubert's anticipations were verified. Florence was not to be persuaded +by anything that he could say. And, when he begged her to tell him why +she wanted so much to stay at Beechfield, and hinted at the reason that +existed in Miss Leonora's mind, Florence only laughed him to scorn. He +was obliged sorrowfully to confess to Miss Vane, when she walked with +him that afternoon before he set out for London, that he had obtained no +information concerning Flossy's plans, and that he could hope to have no +influence over her movements.</p> + +<p>He had five minutes to spare, and was urging her to walk with him a +little way along the road that led to the nearest railway-station, when +Miss Vane's attention was arrested by two little figures in the middle +of the road. She stopped short, and pointed to them with her parasol.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she cried, in a voice that was hoarse with dismay, "do you see +that?"</p> + +<p>"I see Enid," said Hubert rather wonderingly. "I suppose she ought not +to be here alone; she must have escaped from Florence. Why are you so +alarmed? She is talking to a beggar-child—that is all."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane pressed his arm with her hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you blind?" she said. "Do you not know to whom she is talking? Can +you bear to see it?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul, aunt Leo," said the young man, "I don't know what you +mean!"</p> + +<p>He looked at the scene before him. The white country road stretched in +an undulating line to right and left, its smooth surface mottled with +patches of sunlight and tracts of refreshing shade. A broad margin of +grass on either side, tall hedges of hawthorn and hazel, soothed the eye +that might be wearied with the glare and whiteness of the road. On one +of these grassy margins two children were standing face to face. Hubert +recognised his little cousin Enid Vane, but the other—a sunburnt, +gipsy-looking creature, with unkempt hair and ragged clothes—who could +she be?</p> + +<p>"You were at the trial," Miss Vane whispered to him, in dismayed, +reproachful tones. "Do you not know her? it is no fault of hers, poor +child, of course; and yet it does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> give me a shock to see poor little +Enid talking in that friendly way with the daughter of her father's +murderer."</p> + +<p>For the child was no other than little Jenny Westwood, whom Hubert had +seen for a few minutes only at her father's trial three weeks before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert stopped short. If Miss Vane had been looking at him, she would +have seen that his face flushed deeply and then turned very pale. But +she herself, with her gold eye-glasses fixed very firmly on the bridge +of her high nose, was concentrating her whole attention upon the +children.</p> + +<p>"Enid," she called out rather sharply, "what are you doing there? Come +to me."</p> + +<p>Enid turned to her aunt. She was a singularly sensitive looking child, +with lips that paled too rapidly and veins that showed with almost +painful distinctness beneath the soft white skin. Her features were +delicately cut, and gave promise of future beauty, when health should +lend its vivifying touch to the white little face. Her eyes, of a tender +violet-gray, were even now remarkable, and her hair was of rippling +gold.</p> + +<p>Her sombre black dress and the sunshine that poured down upon the spot +where she was standing contributed to the dazzling effect produced by +her golden hair and white skin. There could not have been a greater +contrast than that between her and Andrew Westwood's daughter, upon whom +at that moment Hubert Lepel's eyes were fixed.</p> + +<p>Jenny Westwood, as she was generally called, although her father gave +her a different name, was thinner, browner wilder-looking, than she had +even been before. Miss Vane knew her by sight, but she had imagined that +the child had been taken away from the village by friends, or sent to +the workhouse by the authorities. It was a shock to her to find the +little creature at the park gates of Beechfield Hall.</p> + +<p>Enid did not seem to be embarrassed by her aunt's call. She ran up to +her at once, dragging the ragged child with her by the hand. Her face +was anxious and puzzled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>"Oh, aunt Leo," she said, "this little girl has nowhere to go to—no +home—no anything!"</p> + +<p>"Let her hand go, Enid!" said aunt Leo, with some severity. "You have no +business to be out here in the road, talking to children whom you know +nothing about."</p> + +<p>Enid shrank a little, but she did not drop the child's hand.</p> + +<p>"But, aunt Leo, she is hungry and——"</p> + +<p>"Were you begging of this young lady?" Miss Vane said magisterially, her +eyes bent full on the ragged girl's dark face.</p> + +<p>But Andrew Westwood's daughter would not speak.</p> + +<p>"I'll talk to her," said Hubert, in a low tone. "You take Enid back to +the house, aunt Leo, and I'll send the child about her business."</p> + +<p>"No, no; you'll miss your train. It is time for you to go. Enid can run +back to the house by herself. Go, Enid!"</p> + +<p>"Why may I not speak to the little girl too?" said Enid wistfully. It +was not often that she was rebellious, but her face worked now as if she +were going to cry.</p> + +<p>"Never mind why—do as I tell you!" cried Miss Vane, who was growing +exasperated by the pain and difficulty of the situation, "I will see +what she wants."</p> + +<p>Enid hesitated for a moment, then flung herself impetuously upon Hubert.</p> + +<p>"Won't you help her?" she said, looking up into his face with sweet +entreaty. "I am sure you will be kind. The poor little girl has had +nothing to eat all day—I asked her. You will be kind to her, for you +are always kind."</p> + +<p>Hubert pressed her to him without speaking for a moment, then answered +gently—</p> + +<p>"Both your aunt and I will be kind to her and help her, Enid—you may be +sure of that. Now run away home and leave us; we will do all we can."</p> + +<p>For the first time, the little outcast who had excited Enid's pity broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>"I don't want nothing; I wasn't begging, nor meaning to beg. She found +me asleep by the road and asked me if I was hungry—that was all."</p> + +<p>"And she is hungry," said Enid, with passion, "and you don't want me to +help her. You are unkind! Here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> little girl—here is my shilling; it's +the only one I've got, and it has a hole in it, but you may have it, and +then you can get yourself something to eat in the village."</p> + +<p>She dashed forward with the coin, eluding a movement of Miss Vane's hand +designed to stop her in her course. The shilling lay in Jenny Westwood's +grimy little hand before the lady could interfere.</p> + +<p>"Don't take it away," Hubert whispered in his aunt's ear; "it will only +make her remember the scene for a longer time."</p> + +<p>"I know," Miss Vane answered grimly; and she stood still.</p> + +<p>Enid turned sorrowfully, half ashamed of her momentary rebellion, +towards the park gate. The other child seemed dazed by the excitement of +the speakers, and only half understood what had been going on. She stood +looking first at the coin in her hand and then at the donor, with a +strange questioning expression on her little brown face. Miss Vane and +Hubert also waited in silence, until Enid was out of hearing. Then, as +if by the same instinct, each drew a long breath and looked doubtfully +at the other and then at the child.</p> + +<p>"You will miss your train," said Miss Leonora.</p> + +<p>"I have done that already; so we may as well find out what brings the +girl here. Why not take her inside the park gates? If any one passes +by——"</p> + +<p>"You are right, Hubert, as usual. Come here, child—come inside for a +minute or two; I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>The little girl glanced doubtfully at Miss Vane's handsome imperious +face. She seemed inclined to break away from her questioners and run +down the road; but a look from under her long lashes at Hubert seemed to +reassure her. The young man's face had certainly an attractive +quality—there was some sort of passion and pain in it, some mark of a +great struggle which had not been all ignoble; even if he had failed to +win the victory, a look which worked its way into the hearts of many who +would have refused their hands to him in sign of fellowship if they had +known the whole story of his life. This subtle charm had its influence +on little Jenny Westwood, although she had no suspicion of its cause. +She moved a little closer to him, and followed him inside the iron gates +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> Beechfield Park. The great trees flung their shade over the broad +drive which ran between mossy banks for a mile before the house was +reached. Between their trunks the sunshine flickered on sheets of +bracken, already turning a little yellow from the heat; the straight +spikes of the foxglove, not yet in bloom, were visible here and there +amongst the undulating forms of the woodland fern. Hubert closed the +gate carefully behind him, and stood with his aunt so as to screen the +child from observation, should friends or acquaintances pass by. He had +a keen perception of the fact that Miss Vane was making an enormous +effort over pride and prejudice and affectionate prepossessions of all +kinds in even speaking a word to Andrew Westwood's child. He himself, in +the troubled depths of his soul, was stirred by a wild rush of pity and +remorse, of sharp unaffected desire to undo what had been done already, +to amend the injury that his hand had wrought—a far greater injury +indeed than he had dreamt of doing. He had always fancied Andrew +Westwood as lonely a man as—in the world's eyes—he was worthless; he +had not known until the day of the trial that the prisoner had a child.</p> + +<p>"Your name is 'Westwood,' I think?" Miss Vane began stonily.</p> + +<p>Hubert was keenly aware of the harshness of her tones. The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>"Your father is Andrew Westwood?"</p> + +<p>She nodded again, a dull red creeping into her brown cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" There was a tragic intensity of indignation +in Miss Vane's way of putting the question, which Hubert wondered +whether the child could comprehend. "You ought to be far away from +Beechfield—it is the last place to which you should come!"</p> + +<p>The child lowered her face until it was nearly hidden on her breast, and +spoke for the second time.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't nowhere to go," she muttered.</p> + +<p>"Have you no home?" said Miss Vane sternly.</p> + +<p>"Only the cottage down by the pond where father lived. It is all shut up +now."</p> + +<p>"Where have you lived for the last few weeks? I heard that you were in +the workhouse."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Then, evidently with difficulty—"I ran away."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>"Then you were a bad wicked girl to do so," said Miss Vane, with +severity; "and you ought to be sent back again—and well whipped, into +the bargain!"</p> + +<p>Hubert made an impatient movement. He had never seen his aunt so much to +her disadvantage. She was harsh, unwomanly, inhuman. Was it in this way +that every woman would treat the poor child, remembering the story of +her father's crime?</p> + +<p>Miss Vane read the accusation in his eyes. She turned aside with an +abrupt gesture, half of defiance, half of despair.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it, Hubert," she said in an undertone. She raised her +handkerchief to her eyes and dashed away a tear. "I feel it a wrong to +Sydney, to Marion, to the child, that I should try to benefit any of +Westwood's family. I can't bear to speak to her—I can't bear her in my +sight. It makes me ill to see her."</p> + +<p>She covered her eyes with her hand, so that she might not see the ragged +miserable-looking little creature any longer.</p> + +<p>"It would make matters no better if the child were to die of neglect and +starvation at your gates, would it?" said Hubert bitterly. "She must be +got out of Beechfield at any rate; you will never be able to bear seeing +her about the roads—even amongst the workhouse children."</p> + +<p>"No, no, indeed! And Enid—Enid might meet her again!"</p> + +<p>"Go back to the house, aunt Leo," said the young man tenderly, "and +leave her to me. It is too great a strain upon your endurance, I see. I +will take the child to the Rectory; Mrs. Rumbold will know of some home +where she will be taken in—the farther away from Beechfield the +better."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane was unusually agitated. Her face was pale, and her lips moved +nervously; she carefully averted her eyes from the little girl whom she +had undertaken to question. Evidently she was on the verge of a +breakdown.</p> + +<p>"I never was so foolish in my life as I have been to-day. My nerves are +all unstrung," she said, turning her back on little Jenny Westwood. "I +think I'll take your advice, Hubert. Ask Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold, from me, +to see after the child. If they want money, I don't mind supply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>ing it. +But do make them understand that the child must be kept out of +Beechfield." And with these words she walked briskly down the avenue, +without looking back. As she had said, the very sight of Andrew +Westwood's daughter made her ill.</p> + +<p>Hubert turned again towards the girl, wondering whether she had +overheard the conversation, which had been carried on in low tones, and, +if she had overheard it, how much she had understood. He could not find +out from her face. It was not a face that lacked intelligence, but it +was at present sullen and forbidding in expression. The black hair that +hung over her eyes hid her forehead, and gave her a rough, almost a +savage look.</p> + +<p>"You do not want to go back to the workhouse, do you?" Hubert said, +keenly regarding the stubborn face.</p> + +<p>"No—I won't go back."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>A hot burning blush sprang to the child's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"They call me names," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"They? Who? And what names?"</p> + +<p>"The other girls, and the mistress too, and the women. They said that my +father's wicked, and that I am wicked too. They say that he is to be +hanged."</p> + +<p>The child suddenly burst out crying; her sobs, loud and unrestrained, +fell painfully on Hubert's ear.</p> + +<p>"I went to the prison to see him, but they would not let me; and then I +came back here."</p> + +<p>She sobbed for a minute or two longer, and then became quiet as suddenly +as she had broken into tears, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and +peering furtively at Hubert between the black fingers.</p> + +<p>"They were wrong," Hubert said at length. "Your father is not dead; he +is not to be hanged at all." He paused before he spoke again. "He is in +prison; he will be in prison for the rest of his life—a life sentence!"</p> + +<p>He spoke rather to himself than to the child. Never had he realised so +fully as at that moment what prison actually meant. To be shut up, away +from friends, away from home, away from the sweet wild woods, the +country air, the summer sun, to labor all day long at some heavy +monotonous task, such as breaks the spirit and the heart of man with its +relentless uniformity of toil—to wear the prison garb, to be known by a +number, as one dead to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> ordinary life of men, leaving at the prison +gates that name which would be henceforth only a badge of disgrace to +all who bore it in the outer world—these aspects of Andrew Westwood's +sad case flashed in a moment across Hubert Lepel's mind with a thrill of +intolerable pain. What could he do? Rise up and offer to bear that +terrible punishment himself? It could not be—for Florence's sake, he +told himself, it could not be. And yet—yet——Would that at the very +beginning he had told the truth, and stood where Andrew Westwood stood, +so that the ruffian and the poacher might not have to bear a doom that +separated him for ever from his only child!</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," said Jenny Westwood slowly, "that father will never come +out of prison any more?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—after many years—he may come out."</p> + +<p>"Many years? Three—or five?"</p> + +<p>"More—more, I am afraid, my little girl—perhaps in twenty years—if he +is still alive."</p> + +<p>He scarcely knew what impulse prompted him then to tell her the truth. +He repented it the next moment, for, after a horrified stare into his +face, the child suddenly flung herself down upon the gravelled path and +burst into tears, accompanied by passionate shrieking sobs and wild +convulsive movements of her limbs.</p> + +<p>"He shall come out—he shall come out!" Hubert heard her cry between her +gasps for breath. "He can't do without me. Take me to him, or I shall +die!"</p> + +<p>In utter dismay Hubert tried persuasion, argument, rebuke, for some time +in vain. At last he turned away from her, and began walking up and down +a short stretch of the drive, bitterly regretting the impulse that had +caused him to take the care of this strange child, even for a few +moments, on his hands. But he had promised to get rid of her, and he +must do so, if only for Enid's sake. It would never do to let this +little wild creature go on roaming about the village, asking questions +about her father. And there were better motives at work within the young +man's breast. It seemed to him that he had brought a duty on +himself—that he was at least responsible for Andrew Westwood's forlorn +and neglected child.</p> + +<p>He had not paced the drive for many minutes before the sobs began to +grow fainter. Finally they ceased, and the child drew herself into a +crouching position, with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> head resting against the steep mossy bank +just within the gate. Seeing her so quiet, Hubert thought that he might +venture to speak to her again.</p> + +<p>"You must not cry so bitterly," he said, almost as he might have spoken +to a grown-up person, not to a child.</p> + +<p>"Grieving can do your poor father no good. Wait and grow up quickly. He +may come out of prison some day, and want his little daughter. If I take +you to a place where you can be taught to be a good girl, like other +girls, will you stay there?"</p> + +<p>The child raised her head and fixed her dark eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>"Not to the workhouse?" she said apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"I promise you—not to a workhouse, if you will be a good child."</p> + +<p>She scrambled to her feet at once, and, rather to Hubert's surprise, put +one hot and dirty little hand into his own.</p> + +<p>"I will be good," she said briefly; "and I will go wherever you like."</p> + +<p>Nothing seemed easier to her just then.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>"But, dear me, Mr. Lepel," said Mrs. Rumbold, "there's no place for a +child like that but the workhouse."</p> + +<p>Hubert stood before the Rector's wife in a pretty little room opening +out upon the Rectory garden. Jenny had been left in the hall, seated on +one of the high-backed wooden chairs, while her protector told his tale. +Mrs. Rumbold—a short, stout, elderly woman with a good-natured smile +irradiating her broad face and kind blue eyes—sat erect in the +basket-chair wherein her portly frame more usually reclined, and +positively gasped as she heard his story.</p> + +<p>"To think of that child's behavior! I assure you, Mr. Lepel, that we +tried to do our duty. We knew how painful it would be for the dear +General and Miss Vane if any member of that wretched man's family were +left in the village, and we thought it simplified matters so much that +there was only one child—didn't we, Alfred?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>Alfred was the Rector, a tall thin man, very slow in expressing his +ideas, and therefore generally resigning the task of doing so to his +wife's more nimble tongue. On this occasion, unready as usual with a +response, he crossed his legs one over the other, cleared his throat, +and had just prepared to utter the words, "We did indeed, my dear," when +Mrs. Rumbold was off again.</p> + +<p>"Some neighbors took care of her before the trial," she said +confidentially. "Indeed we paid them a small sum for doing so, Mr. +Lepel—we didn't like to send the child to the workhouse before we knew +how matters would turn out. But, when the poor wretched man was +condemned, I said to Alfred,'We really can't let the Smiths be burdened +any longer with Andrew Westwood's child—she must go to the Union!' And +Alfred actually went to Westwood, and asked him if he had any relatives +to whom the child could be sent—didn't you, Alfred?—and, when he said +that there were none, and that the girl might as well be brought up in +the workhouse as anywhere else, for she would always be an outcast like +himself—I quote his very words, Mr. Lepel—his graceless, reckless, +wicked words!—why, then, I just put on my hat and cloak, and I went to +the Smiths at once, and I said, 'Mrs. Smith, I've come to take little +Westwood to the workhouse;' and take her I did that very afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Do you know when she ran away?" Hubert asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumbold shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I haven't heard. Not more than a day or two ago, I should fancy, for +nobody seems to have been looking for her in this direction. I wonder +she came back to Beechfield, the hardened little thing!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, I don't think she is that, Mrs. Rumbold!" said Hubert, +affecting a lightness which assuredly he did not feel. "I fancy that she +wandered back to Beechfield out of love for her father and her old home, +poor child. She is not to be blamed for her father's sins, surely!" he +added, seeing rather an odd expression on Mrs. Rumbold's face as the +involuntary words of pity passed his lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no—of course not!" Mrs. Rumbold hastened to reply. "It is very +kind of you, Mr. Lepel, and very kind of Miss Vane too, to interest +yourselves in the fate of Andrew Westwood's daughter—very Christian, I +am sure!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>"I don't know that," said Hubert, somewhat awkwardly. "I fancy that my +cousin simply wishes to get the child away from the place before the +General is well enough to go out again—I suppose he knows her by sight. +It would be painful to him—and little Enid might come to hear."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course! I quite understand, Mr. Lepel. And the Churton +workhouse is so near Beechfield too!"</p> + +<p>"She shall not go back to the workhouse," said Hubert, with firmness. "I +am resolved on that!"</p> + +<p>"An orphanage, I suppose? Well, we might get her into an orphanage if we +paid a small sum for her; but who would pay? There's the Anglican +Sisterhood at East Winstead—not that I quite approve of Sisterhoods +myself," said Mrs. Rumbold grimly—"but I know that in this case the +Sisters are doing a good work and for a small annual payment——"</p> + +<p>"I don't much like the idea of a Sisterhood. Do you know of a smaller +place—an ordinary school perhaps—where she could be taken in and +clothed and taught and civilised?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Lepel, I don't. You could not send a child like that to a +lady's house without letting the whole story be told; and who would take +her then? In a charitable institution, now, she could be admitted, and +no questions asked."</p> + +<p>"I did not think—I did not exactly want to find a charitable +institution," said Hubert, suddenly seeing that his position would +appear very strange in the Rumbolds' eyes, and yet resolved to stick to +his point. No, whatever happened, "little Westwood," as Mrs. Rumbold +called her, should not be brought up as a "charity-girl." He had an +instinctive understanding of the suffering that the child would endure +if she were not in kindly hands; and he did not think that the +atmosphere of a large semi-public institution would be favorable to her +future welfare.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumbold looked at him in open-eyed perplexity.</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Lepel, what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want the child to be happy," Hubert cried, with some vexation—"I +want her to be where she will never be taunted with her father's +position, where she will be kindly treated, and brought up to earn her +own living in a suitable way."</p> + +<p>"Then," said the Rector, startling both his hearers by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the ponderous +solemnity of his tones, "send her to Winstead."</p> + +<p>Hubert turned towards him respectfully.</p> + +<p>"You think so, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The Sisters are good women," said Mr. Rumbold. "They love the children +and train them well. I have twice sent orphans from this village to +their care, and in each case I believe that there could not have been a +happier result."</p> + +<p>"You'll be charmed if you go over the house at Winstead, Mr. Lepel," +said Mrs. Rumbold coaxingly. "Do go over and see yourself what it is +like. Such a lovely house, half covered with purple clematis and +Virginia creeper, and a dear little chapel, and beautiful grounds! And +the expense is quite trifling—twelve or sixteen pounds a year, I +believe, for each of the dear little orphans!"</p> + +<p>"If you speak so highly of it, I am sure I may take it on trust," +answered Hubert, with a smile. He was growing weary of the discussion. +"Take the child and do the best for her, will you, Mrs. Rumbold? My +cousin and I will supply all funds that may be needed."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that's very good of you, Mr. Lepel. The child couldn't be +happier anywhere than she will be at Winstead. Alfred will write at once +about it—will you not, Alfred?"</p> + +<p>Alfred bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it will take a few days to settle," said Hubert, looking from +one to the other. "In the meantime——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, in the meantime she can stay here!" said Mrs. Rumbold expansively. +"She will be no trouble, poor thing! I can put up a little bed for her +in one of the attics."</p> + +<p>"She's not very clean, I'm afraid, Mrs. Rumbold. She looks exceedingly +black."</p> + +<p>"I expect that the black's all on the surface," said the Rector's wife. +"You needn't laugh, Alfred; Mr. Lepel knows what I mean, I'm sure. The +child's been in the workhouse for more than a fortnight, and has left it +only for the last day or two; she is just dusty and grimy with the heat +and exercise, and will be glad of a bath, poor thing! I'll make her look +beautiful before she goes to Winstead, you'll see."</p> + +<p>"Then I may leave her in your charge? It is exceed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>ingly good of you," +said Hubert, rising to take his leave. "I don't know what I should have +done with her but for you."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Lepel, I am sure the goodness is all on your side!" cried +Mrs. Rumbold. "I should not have thought of a gentleman like you, one of +your family, troubling himself about a ragged miserable child like this +little Westwood girl. I'm sure she ought to be eternally grateful to you +all!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, by-the-bye," said Hubert, turning round as he was nearing the door, +"you have reminded me of something that I may as well mention now, Mrs. +Rumbold! Oblige me by not telling any one that I—we have anything to do +with providing for the child. Do not speak of it to the girl herself or +to any one in the village. And pray do not allude to it in conversation +with my cousins at the Hall!"</p> + +<p>"If you wish it, of course I will not mention it to any one," said Mrs. +Rumbold, bridling a little at what she conceived to be an imputation on +her discretion. "You may trust me, I am sure, Mr. Lepel. We will not +breathe a word."</p> + +<p>"And particularly not a word to the child herself," Hubert said, turning +his eyes upon the Rector's wife with such earnestness in their troubled +depths that she was quite impressed. "I do not wish her to be burdened +with the feeling that she owes anything to us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Lepel, how generous, how delicate-minded!" cried the effusive +little woman, throwing up her hands in admiration. "Now I wouldn't have +believed that there was a young man that could be so thoughtful of +others' feelings—I wouldn't indeed, Mr. Hubert! Must you go? Won't you +stay and have dinner with us to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you—no; I am engaged—a dinner in town," said Hubert hastily. "I +will leave you my address"—he produced a card from his pocket-book, and +with it a ten-pound note—"and this will perhaps be useful in getting +clothes and things of that kind for her. If you want more, you will let +me know."</p> + +<p>He escaped with difficulty from Mrs. Rumbold's rapturous expression of +surprise at his liberality, and at last got out into the hall. Andrew +Westwood's little girl was still sitting on the chair where she had been +placed, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> hands crossed before her on her lap, her bare feet swinging +idly to and fro, her dark eyes fixed vaguely on the trees and shrubs of +the Rectory garden, which she could see from the hall window. Hubert +paused beside her and spoke.</p> + +<p>"I am going to leave you with this lady—Mrs. Rumbold," he said. "You +know her already, and know that she will be kind to you. You are to go +to a good school, where I hope that you will be happy."</p> + +<p>The child's eyes dilated as she listened to him.</p> + +<p>"Are you going away?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am going back to London," the young man answered kindly. "You +will stay here, like a good little girl, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to?" she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead +and gazing at him anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I'll stay," she said curtly.</p> + +<p>And then she lapsed once more into her former state of silence and +sullenness; and Hubert left her with a smile of farewell and a secret +aspiration that he might not see her again; for it seemed to him that he +could never look upon the face of Andrew Westwood's daughter without a +pang.</p> + +<p>He decided to catch the seven o'clock train to London.</p> + +<p>"You'll be late for your engagement, I am afraid," Mrs. Rumbold said to +him; thinking of his excuse for running away.</p> + +<p>He only smiled and nodded as he walked off, by way of reply. His dinner +in town, he knew well enough, would be eaten in solitude at his club. He +had no other engagement; but he would have invented half a hundred +excuses sooner than stay an hour longer than was necessary under General +Vane's hospitable roof.</p> + +<p>He dined silently and expeditiously at his club, and then made his way +through the lighted streets to his lodgings in Bloomsbury. A barrister +by profession, he had found his real vocation in literature, and he +liked to live within easy reach of libraries and newspaper offices. He +had been making a fair income lately, and his earnings were very +acceptable to him, for he was not a man of particularly economical +habits. He had about a hundred a year of his own, and Miss Vane allowed +him another hundred—all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> else had to be won by the work of his own +hands. And yet, as he passed up the staircase to his own rooms, he was +wondering whether he could not manage to dispense with Miss Vane's +hundred a year.</p> + +<p>He had let himself in with his latch-key, and the room which he entered +was lighted only by the lamps in the street. He had not been expected so +early, and his landlady had forgotten to bring the lamp which he was in +the habit of using. He struck a match and lit the gas, pulled down the +blinds, and threw himself with a heavy sigh into the great leathern +arm-chair that stood before his writing-table.</p> + +<p>He felt mortally tired. The events of the day had been such as would +have tried a strong man's nerve, and Hubert Lepel was at this time out +of sorts, physically as well as mentally. He had seldom gone through +such hours of keen torture as he had borne that day; and his face—pale, +worn, miserable—seemed to have lost all its youth as he lay back in the +great arm-chair and thought of the past.</p> + +<p>He rose at last with an impatient word.</p> + +<p>"It is madness to brood over what cannot be undone," he said to himself. +"I must 'dree my own weird' without a word to any living soul. Florence +has my secret, and I have hers; to her I am bound by a tie that nothing +on earth can break. And I can have no other ties. I am bad enough, +Heaven knows, but I am not so bad as to render myself responsible for +the happiness of a wife, for the welfare of children, for a home! With +this hanging over me, how can I hope for any happiness in life? I am as +much under punishment as poor Westwood in his prison-cell. I have no +rights, no hopes, no love. A life sentence did I say that he had +received? And have I not a life sentence too?"</p> + +<p>He was standing beside his writing-table, and his eyes fell upon a +photograph which had adorned it for the last six months. It represented +a girl's face—a bright, pretty, careless face, with large eyes and +parted smiling lips. For the first time he did not admire it very much; +for the first time he found it a trifle soulless and vapid.</p> + +<p>"Poor Mary," he said, looking at it with a kind of wonder in his +eyes—"what will she say when she finds that I do not go to her father's +house any more? I do not think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> that she will care very much. She has +seen little enough of me lately! I could not ask her now to link her +fate with mine, poor child! She would hate me if she knew. Best to +forget her, as she will forget me!"</p> + +<p>He took the photograph out of its frame and deliberately tore it across; +then he set himself to reduce it to the smallest possible fragments, +until they lay in a little heap upon his writing-table. His face was +grave and rigid as he performed the task, but it showed little trace of +pain. His fancy for "Mary," the pretty daughter of an old professor, had +taken no deep root. Henceforth it vanished from his life, his memory, +his heart. "Mary," like all his other dreams, was dead to him.</p> + +<p>A knock at the door startled him as he completed his work. A servant +brought in a telegram, which he tore open hastily. As he expected, it +was from Miss Vane.</p> + +<p>"Marion died this evening at seven o'clock, from syncope of the heart. +Funeral on Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Another victim!" Hubert said to himself, laying down the pink paper +with something like a groan. "Am I responsible for this too? A life +sentence, did I say? It would take a hundred lives to compensate for all +the harm that Florence and I have done!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>"'Cynthia Westwood'—is that your name?" said Mrs. Rumbold. "Dear me, I +always thought that it was just 'Jane' or 'Jenny!' Wouldn't it be better +to change it, and call her something more appropriate to her station?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said the injudicious Rector, "she may not like to be called +by a name that does not belong to her."</p> + +<p>He was looking at Jenny—or Cynthia, as she had just informed them that +she was called—a transformed and greatly altered Cynthia under Mrs. +Rumbold's management—Cynthia with hair cut short, hands and face +scrupulously clean, a neat but ugly print frock, and a coarse holland +pinafore—a perfectly subdued and uninteresting Cynthia—uninteresting +save for the melancholy beauty of her great dark wistful eyes.</p> + +<p>"What she likes has nothing to do with it," said Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Rumbold, rather +sharply. "Besides, she has another name—she told me so +herself—'Cynthia Janet'—that's what she was christened, she tells me. +She can be called 'Jane Wood' at Winstead."</p> + +<p>The Rector looked up in mild surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why not 'Jane Westwood,' my dear? 'Westwood' is her name."</p> + +<p>"She had much better not be known as Westwood's daughter," said Mrs. +Rumbold, with decision, quite heedless of Cynthia's presence. "It will +be against her all her life. I have told Sister Louisa about her, and +she asked me to let her be called 'Wood.' 'Jane Wood' is a nice sensible +name."</p> + +<p>"Well, as you please. You will not mind being called 'Jane,' will you, +my dear?" said the Rector, mindful of the red flush that was creeping +into the little pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>He was a kindly old gentleman, in spite of his slow, absent-minded ways; +and there was a very benevolent light in his eyes as he sat in his +elbow-chair, newspaper on knee, spectacles on nose, and surveyed the +child who had been brought to his study for inspection.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumbold fairly lost her patience at the question.</p> + +<p>"How can you ask her such a thing, Alfred? As if it was her business to +mind one way or another! She ought to be thankful that she is so well +taken care of without troubling about her name. 'Jane Wood' is a very +good name indeed, much better than that silly-sounding 'Cynthia'!"—and +Mrs. Rumbold swept the child before her out of the room in a state of +high indignation at the stupidity of all men.</p> + +<p>So Cynthia Westwood—or Jenny Westwood, as the Beechfield people called +her—was transformed into Jane Wood. She did not seem to object to the +change. She was in a dazed, stunned state of mind, in which she +understood only half of what was said to her, and when the scenes and +faces around her made a very slight impression upon her memory. One or +two things stood out clearly from the rest. One was Enid Vane's sweet +childish face, as she thrust her shilling with the hole in it into the +little outcast's hand. Cynthia had carefully hidden the coin away; she +was resolved never to spend it. She took it out and looked at it +sometimes, feeling, though she could not have put her feelings into +words, that it was an actual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> visible sign of some one's kindness of +heart, of some one's love and pity for her. And the other thing was the +dark melancholy face of the man who had brought her to the Rectory, and +told her to be good for her father's sake.</p> + +<p>She liked to think of his face best of all. It was one that she was sure +she would never forget. She brooded over it with silent adoration, with +a simple faith and confidence in the goodness of its owner, which would +have cut him to the heart if he had ever dreamed of it. He had been kind +to her; that was all she knew. She rewarded him by the devotion of her +whole being. It was surely a great reward for such a little act! She did +not know that it was he who was to pay for her going to school, that it +was he who had rescued her from the degradation of her outcast life.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumbold kept her word to Hubert. She talked vaguely in Cynthia's +presence of "kind friends" who were doing "so much" for her; but Cynthia +associated the idea of "kind friends" with that of Mrs. Rumbold herself, +and was not grateful. The child was not old enough, and had been too +much stunned by the various experiences of her little life, to be very +curious. She did not know Mr. Lepel by name, or why he should be at +Beechfield at all. He did not often visit the Vanes, although he saw a +good deal of his aunt Leonora in London. He was quite a stranger to half +the people in the village.</p> + +<p>Also, Cynthia's father, now in prison for the murder of Sydney Vane, had +not lived long in Beechfield, and did not know the history and +relationships of the Squire's family, as natives of Beechfield were +supposed to do. He had been two years in the village, and had rented a +tumbledown ruinous cottage by the side of a marshy pond, which no one +else would occupy. Here he had lived a lonely life, gathering rushes +from the pond and weaving baskets out of them, doing a day's work in the +fields now and then, setting snares for rabbits, trapping foxes, and +killing game—a man suspected by the authorities, shunned by the village +respectabilities, avoided by even those wilder spirits who met at the +"Blue Lion" to talk of bullocks and to drink small-beer. For he was not +of a genial disposition. He was gruff and surly in speech, given neither +to drink nor to conversation—just the sort of man, his neighbors said, +to commit a terrible crime, to revenge himself upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> a magistrate who +had once sent him to gaol for poaching, and had threatened to turn him +out of his wretched cottage by the pond.</p> + +<p>And his little girl too—the villagers were indignant at the way in +which Cynthia was brought up. She was seldom seen in the village school, +never at church or in Mrs. Rumbold's Sunday-classes. She was rough, +wild, ignorant. Careful village mothers would not let their children +play with her, and district-visitors went out of their way to avoid +her—for she had been known to fling stones at boys who had come too +near, and she laughed in the faces of people who tried to lecture her. +Jenny Westwood was thus very little in the way of hearing Beechfield +gossip, or she would have known all about Mr. Lepel and his sister, who +acted as Miss Enid's governess, and concerning whose moonlit walks with +Miss Enid's "papa" there had already been a good deal of conversation. +She knew nothing of all this. There was a big house a mile from the +village, and in this big house lived a wicked cruel man who had sent her +father to prison—so much she knew. And her father was now in prison for +killing that wicked man. Why should one not kill the person who injures +one? It did not seem so very terrible to Cynthia. Before her father had +brought her to Beechfield, she remembered, they had travelled a good +deal from place to place; and while they were "on the tramp," as her +father expressed it, she had seen much of the rougher side of life. She +had seen blows given and returned—fighting, violence, bloodshed. She +had a vague idea that, if her father had killed Mr. Vane, it was perhaps +not the first time that he had taken the life of a fellow-man.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rumbold certainly showed much kindliness and charity in taking this +forlorn little girl into her spotless well-regulated household, even for +a week, until matters were settled with the authorities of the workhouse +which she had quitted and the orphanage to which she was going. The +Rectory servants were indignant at having the society of "a murderer's +child" forced upon them. If she had stayed much longer, they would have +given notice in a body. But fortunately Mrs. Rumbold was able to arrange +matters with the Winstead Sisters very speedily, and the day following +the funeral of Mrs. Sydney Vane—laid to rest beside her husband only +three months after his un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>timely death—saw Cynthia's little box packed, +and herself, arrayed in neat but very unbecoming garments, conveyed by +Mrs. Rumbold to the charitable precincts of St. Elizabeth's Orphanage at +Winstead, where she was introduced to the black-robed, white-capped +Sisters and a crowd of blue-cloaked children like herself as Jane Wood, +orphan, from the village of Beechfield, in Hants.</p> + +<p>However, Mrs. Rumbold told the whole of Cynthia's story to the Sister in +charge of the Orphanage, a sweet-faced motherly woman, who looked as if +children were dear to her. The one reservation made by the Rector's wife +referred to the person or persons who were to pay the child's expenses. +Their names, she said emphatically, were never to be mentioned. The good +Sister smiled, and thought to herself that the very reservation told its +own story. Of course it was the Vanes who were thus providing for +Cynthia Westwood's continued absence from their village. It was natural +perhaps.</p> + +<p>She noticed that the child showed no sign of sorrow at parting from Mrs. +Rumbold. She looked white, tired, almost stupefied. Sister Louisa took +hold of the little hands, and found them cold and trembling.</p> + +<p>When the Rector's wife was gone, the good woman—"the mother of the +children," as she was sometimes called—drew the little girl to her knee +and kissed her tenderly. It needed very little real affection to call +forth a response in Cynthia's yearning heart. She burst into tears and +buried her face in the mother's ample bosom, won from that moment to all +the claims of love and duty, and a religion of which she as yet had +scarcely heard the name.</p> + +<p>As time went on, Mrs. Rumbold received letters from Sister Louisa +relative to Jane Wood's progress. Jane Wood was, on the whole, a very +satisfactory pupil. She was a girl of strong will and strong passions, +often in disgrace, and yet a universal favorite. She possessed more than +usual ability, and soon caught up with the girls of her own age who had +at first been far in advance of her in class; then she surpassed them, +and began to attract attention; and at the end of two years Mrs. Rumbold +received a letter which perplexed her so sorely, that she sent it at +once to Mr. Hubert Lepel, who was still living a bachelor-life in +London.</p> + +<p>The letter, from Sister Louisa, was to the effect that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> Jane Wood, the +girl from Beechfield, had developed a great talent for music, and seemed +very superior to the station of domestic service for which she had been +designed. The Sister received twenty or thirty boarders—daughters of +gentlemen for the most part, for whom ordinary terms were paid—in +addition to the orphans; these girls of a superior class were educated +by the Sisters, and often remained at St. Elizabeth's until they were +eighteen or nineteen. If the amount paid for Jane Wood could be +increased to forty pounds a year, the Sisters proposed to educate her as +a governess; with her talent for music and other accomplishments, they +were quite sure that the girl would turn out a credit to her kind +patrons and patronesses, as well as to St. Elizabeth's.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lepel sent back an answer by return of post. Jane Wood—he knew her +by no other Christian name—was to have every advantage the good sisters +could give her. If she had talents, they were to be cultivated. When she +was old enough to be placed out in the world to earn her own living, his +allowance would of course cease; till then, and while she wanted help, +her friends would provide for her.</p> + +<p>"So Westwood's child is to be made a lady of!" said Mrs. Rumbold, laying +down the letter with a sense of virtuous indignation. "Well, I hope that +Mr. Lepel won't repent it. I wonder what Miss Vane thinks of it?"</p> + +<p>But Miss Vane had never even heard the name of Jane Wood.</p> + +<p>Hubert Lepel was gradually achieving literary success. But the road to +success is often stony and beset with thorns and briars. His name was +becoming known as that of a writer of popular fiction; he had a play in +hand of which people prognosticated great things. For all these reasons +he was much too busy to give any special attention to the affairs of the +child at St. Elizabeth's School. He agreed to Sister Louisa's +proposition, and sent money for the girl's education—that was all that +he could do. And so another year went by, and then another, and he heard +nothing more about Jane Wood.</p> + +<p>But at the close of a London season, when town was emptying fast and the +air was becoming exhausted, and everybody who had a chance of going into +the country was sighing to be off, it occurred to Hubert Lepel to +wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> how the child that he had befriended was progressing. It took +little time for him to make up his mind that he would go down to +Winstead and see the school, which was quite a show-place and had been a +great deal talked about. A card and a line from a clerical friend would +introduce him, and his literary work gave him an excuse for wishing to +inspect the institution. It would be supposed that he meant to write an +article upon it. He did not intend to say why he had come.</p> + +<p>The building occupied by the Sisters of St. Elizabeth was certainly +beautiful and picturesque. Hubert remembered with a half smile the +enthusiastic praise that Mrs. Rumbold had bestowed upon it. The chapel, +an exquisite little gem of Gothic architecture, stood in the centre, +flanked by two long gray wings appropriated to the school-girls and +their teachers, the Orphanage and the Sisterhood. St. Elizabeth's was +becoming quite a noted school for girls, especially among persons of +High Anglican proclivities; and in surveying the lovely buildings, the +exquisitely-kept grounds, the smooth lawns and shrubberies which met his +eyes. Hubert could not but acknowledge that the outer appearance of the +place was all that could be desired. The school buildings were swathed +in purple clematis and roses; there was a pleasant hum of voices, even +of laughter, from some of the deep mullioned windows; and he saw a host +of children sporting on the lawn in the distance. The scene was bright, +peaceful, and joyous. Hubert Lepel felt a momentary thrill of relief; he +had done well for Westwood's child—he need not reproach himself on that +score.</p> + +<p>A portress with a rosy smiling face admitted him into a visitors' room, +a small but cosy place, with vases of flowers on the table, sacred +pictures and a black-and-white crucifix on the yellow-washed walls. Here +a Sister clad in conventual garb came to inquire his business. The +stillness of the house, the unfamiliar aspect of the women's dresses, +reminded Hubert of some French and Flemish Romanist convents which he +had visited abroad. He was charmed with the likeness. It was something, +he said to himself, to find such serenity, such sweet placidity of life, +possible in the very midst of nineteenth-century England, with all her +turmoil and bustle and distraction. He did not discuss with himself the +question as to whether the life led<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> by the inmates of these retreats +was wholesome or agreeable; it was simply on the æsthetic side that its +aspect pleased him. He could fancy himself for a moment in the depths of +a foreign land or far back in remote mediæval times.</p> + +<p>Could he see the buildings, the church, the school, the orphanage? Oh, +certainly! Sister Agnes, who had come to him, would be pleased to show +him everything.</p> + +<p>She was very pleasant in manner, and he had no difficulty in obtaining +from her any amount of information about the institution. It seemed that +he had by chance come on a festival day, and every one was making +holiday. The children were all out in the fields or the garden; he could +see their schoolrooms and dormitories and refectory. They were all +rather bare, exquisitely clean and airy, full of the most recent +improvements as regarded educational appliances.</p> + +<p>"This is the Orphanage building," Sister Agnes explained. "We do not +generally show the class-rooms belonging to the other school; but, as +all the ladies are out, you may see them if you like."</p> + +<p>So Hubert peeped into the rooms, occupied by the girl-boarders, who were +on a very different footing from the orphans, and whose surroundings, +though simple, were almost elegant in their simplicity. The furniture +was of good artistic design, the windows were emblazoned in jewel-like +colors, the proportions of the rooms were stately as those of an Oxford +college hall. Hubert smiled a little at the picture of Westwood's ragged +daughter amidst all this magnificence.</p> + +<p>Last of all he was shown the chapel, the most beautiful building of the +place, and on this day in particular largely decorated with the choicest +flowers.</p> + +<p>As they were coming out, a bell began to ring, and presently they met a +procession of school-girls, all dressed alike in white frocks and broad +hats, on their way to some afternoon service of prayer and praise. +Hubert scanned their faces heedfully as they passed by, but he could not +find one amongst them that reminded him of the thin little countenance, +the gipsy eyes of the convict Westwood's child.</p> + +<p>He could not resist the temptation to ask a question.</p> + +<p>"Have you not here," he said, "a girl called Jane Wood?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Sister Agnes gazed at him in astonishment, and the tears suddenly rushed +into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of Jane Wood?" she cried excitedly. "Oh, you ask +for her at a very critical time! She has been with us four years, and we +loved her as our own child; but she ran away from us two days ago, and +we have not seen her since!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Hubert, starting in his turn. "The girl gone?"</p> + +<p>Sister Agnes was in tears already.</p> + +<p>"Let me fetch Sister Louisa or the Reverend Mother to you?" she cried. +"They know all about it—as far as anybody can know anything. You—you +are one of her friends, perhaps? Oh, the dear child—and we loved her so +dearly!"</p> + +<p>Hubert was looking pale and stern. He had stopped short on the gravelled +pathway, half-way between the chapel and the entrance to the school. The +beauty, the interest of the place was lost upon him at once. He cared +only to hear what had become of the child whom he had fondly imagined +himself to be benefiting. If she had been unhappy, if she had run away +into the wide world on account of ill-treatment by her teachers and +fellow-pupils, was he not to blame? He ought to have come to the place +before and made inquiries, not left her fate to the light words of Mrs. +Rumbold or some unknown Sister Louisa. He had made himself responsible +for her education; was he not in some sort responsible for her happiness +as well?</p> + +<p>These questionings made his face look very dark and grave as he stood +once more in the visitors' room, awaiting the arrival of the lady whom +Sister Agnes had called Sister Louisa, and whose letters to Mrs. Rumbold +he remembered that he had read.</p> + +<p>He felt himself prejudiced against her before she arrived; but, when he +saw her, he was compelled to own that she had a very attractive +countenance. The face itself, framed in its setting of white and black, +was long and pale, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> beautiful by reason of its sweetness of +expression; the gray eyes were full of tenderness, yet full of grief. +There were marks of tears upon her face—the only one that the visitor +had seen that was at all dolorous; and yet, noting her serene brow and +gentle lips, Hubert, man of the world as he was, and more ready to cavil +and despise than to admire, said to himself that, if any woman could +make a young girl love her, surely this woman would not fail!</p> + +<p>"You wish," she said, "to ask some questions about our pupil Jane Wood?"</p> + +<p>"I do indeed. I am very much surprised to hear that she has left you."</p> + +<p>"May I ask whether you have any authority from our friend Mrs. Rumbold +to inquire?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rumbold takes her authority from me," said Hubert quietly.</p> + +<p>Then, as the Sister looked at him with a little uncertainty in her mild +gray eyes, he felt in his pocket and drew out a pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"I think I have a letter here from Mrs. Rumbold which will establish my +claim to make inquiries. It is a mere chance that I have not destroyed +it, but it is here, and will serve as my credentials perhaps."</p> + +<p>Sister Louisa took the letter from his hand and looked at it. It was the +one which Mrs. Rumbold had written to Mr. Lepel when she had heard of +Jane Wood's talent for music and other accomplishments from "the mother +of the children" herself.</p> + +<p>The good Sister smiled sadly as she gave it back.</p> + +<p>"I see now who you are, Mr. Lepel. You are really this poor child's +great friend and helper."</p> + +<p>"I am acting for my family, of course," said Hubert, a little stiffly. +"The girl has naturally no right to expect anything from us; but we were +sorry for her desolate portion."</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor child—she has a hard lot to bear."</p> + +<p>If Hubert was stung by this asseveration, he did not show it.</p> + +<p>"I always heard that she was very happy here," he said.</p> + +<p>"And so she was—or so she seemed to be," said Sister Louisa, with +energy. "She was a great favorite, always at the top of the classes, +always full of life and spirit, always bright and engaging. Poor Janie! +To think that she should have left us in this way!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>"Why did she leave you, and how?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lepel," said the Sister, "if I tell you that our Janie had a fault, +you won't think hardly of her or of us? A girl of fifteen is not often +perfect, and we are sometimes obliged to reprove, even to punish, those +under our charge; and yet I assure you there was not a person in the +house, woman or child, who did not love poor Janie."</p> + +<p>"I am to understand, then, that she was under punishment?"</p> + +<p>Sister Louisa shook her head slightly and sighed. She felt that it was +difficult to make this young man of the world understand that girls of +fifteen were sometimes exceedingly trying to their elders and superiors; +but she would do her best.</p> + +<p>"Janie was very affectionate," she said, "but passionate in temper, and +obstinate when thwarted. She had a curious amount of pride—much more +than one usually finds in so young a girl or one of her extraction. Her +high spirits too were a snare to her. She was reproved three days ago +for laughing aloud in a chapel; and, as she showed an unsubmissive +spirit, she was sent into a room alone in order to meditate. Into this +room one of our lay Sisters went by accident, not knowing that Jane Wood +was there for seclusion, and began to talk to her. This young woman, +Martha by name, came from the neighborhood of Beechfield, and happened +to mention Mrs. Rumbold."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see!" Hubert exclaimed involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Jane questioned her about the place—questioned her particularly, I +believe, about a gentleman that she remembered. I think, Mr. Lepel, that +she must have been thinking of yourself, according to the description +that Martha tells us she gave of him; but Martha could not tell her your +name, which it seems the child did not know. It was natural perhaps that +Martha should pass on to the subject of that tragedy at Beechfield—the +murder of Mr. Sydney Vane and the fate of the murderer."</p> + +<p>Sister Louisa paused for a moment—it seemed to her that the young man's +dark handsome face had turned exceedingly pale. He was leaning against +the wall, close to the window; he moved aside a little, as he did not +wish her to see his face, and begged her to proceed with her story. She +went on.</p> + +<p>"Martha's tale at this point becomes confused; either<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> she is not sure +of what she said or is reluctant to repeat it. Some slur, some +imputation was no doubt thrown upon the name of Janie's father; and I +believe that she thought that Martha knew her story and was insulting +her. At any rate, the whole establishment was roused by the sound of +screams proceeding from the room. We rushed thither, and found Martha +crouching in a corner, shrieking hysterically, and declaring that Miss +Wood was going to murder her; while Janie—poor Janie——"</p> + +<p>"I can imagine it," said Hubert, in a low tone; while Sister Louisa +paused for breath—and perhaps to recover the calmness that she had +lost.</p> + +<p>"Our poor Janie," proceeded the kind-hearted woman, "was like one who +had gone mad. She was white as death, her eyes were flaming, her hands +clenched; but all that she seemed able to say were the words, 'My father +was innocent—innocent—innocent!' I should think that she repeated the +words a hundred times. Greatly to our sorrow, Mr. Lepel, the whole story +then came out. We could not silence either Martha or poor Janie—who, I +really think, did not know what she was saying. In spite of our efforts +to keep the matter quiet, in a very short time the whole house—Sisters, +boarders, servants—all knew Jane Wood's sad history."</p> + +<p>She noted the rigid lines about Mr. Lepel's mouth as he stepped forward +from the window and spoke in a low stern tone.</p> + +<p>"Was it impossible to prevent? It seems incredible to me. I +hope"—almost savagely—"that you have punished for her extraordinary +folly the woman who did the mischief?"</p> + +<p>"She has been sent away," said Sister Louisa sadly; "but her punishment +has not mended matters, Mr. Lepel. The excitement in the school was +immense—unprecedented. We felt that it would be incumbent upon us to +send Janie away for a time—until the story was to some extent +forgotten."</p> + +<p>"And you told her so? Women have hearts of stone!" cried Hubert. He +forgot that his conduct had not hitherto proved that his own was very +soft.</p> + +<p>"I hope that we were not unkind to her," said Sister Louisa, with gentle +dignity. "It was to be for a time only. We wanted her to go down to +Leicestershire with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> two of our Sisters for a few weeks; we thought it +advisable that she should have a change. The Reverend Mother herself +mentioned the plan to her. I noticed that she changed color very much +when it was proposed. She made one of her sharp speeches—quite in her +old way, 'I see—I am not good enough to associate with the other +girls,' she said. We told her that it was no such thing—that we loved +her as much as ever—that it was only for her own good that she was to +leave St. Elizabeth's for a time; but I am afraid that it was all of no +avail. She listened to what we said with a face of stone. And in the +morning—in the morning, Mr. Lepel, we found that she was gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Without the knowledge of any of you?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely. She must have stolen out in the middle of the night when +every one was asleep. It is a wonder that no one heard her; but she is +very light-footed and very nimble. She must have climbed the garden +fence. She had left a folded piece of paper on her bed—it was a note +for me."</p> + +<p>"May I see it?" said Hubert eagerly.</p> + +<p>Sifter Louisa drew it from among the folds of her long black robes. He +turned away from her while he read the few blurred hastily-written lines +in which Janie said good-bye to the woman whom she had loved. He did not +want Sister Louisa to see his face. He was more touched by her story +than he liked to show.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Mother Louisa," Janie had written, in her unformed girlish +hand—"Don't be more angry and grieved than you can help! If they had +all been like you, I would have stayed. But everyone will despise me +now. I shall go to some place where nobody knows me, and earn my own +living. Please forgive me! I do love you and St. Elizabeth's very much; +but I must go away—I must! I can't bear to stay now that everybody +knows all about me. I shall change my name, so you need not look for +me."</p> + +<p>The letter was simply signed "Janie"—nothing more. Robert handed it +back to its owner with a grave word of thanks.</p> + +<p>"How is it," he said, "that I did not hear of her leaving you before I +came to Winstead? Mrs. Rumbold is supposed to give me information of +anything of importance respecting the girl. I have not had a word from +her."</p> + +<p>"Nor have we, although we wrote and telegraphed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> once. I am afraid +that she is away from home. We did not know your address, or that you +were interested in her."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I kept that matter to myself," said Hubert gloomily. "It +seems that it was foolish of me to do so. May I ask what steps you have +taken to discover the poor child?"</p> + +<p>The Sisters, he found, had not been remiss in their endeavors. They had +placed themselves in communication with a London detective; they had +consulted the local police; they had made inquiries at railway stations +and roadside inns. But as yet they had heard nothing of the fugitive. +The girl was strong and active, a good walker and runner; it seemed +pretty evident that she had not gone by train or by ordinary roads. She +must have plunged into the fields and taken a cross-country route in +some direction. Probably she had gone to London; and in London she was +tolerably safe from pursuit.</p> + +<p>"Had she money?" Hubert asked of Sister Louisa.</p> + +<p>"Not a penny."</p> + +<p>"She will be driven back to you by hunger."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. She was too proud to return to us of her own free +will."</p> + +<p>"Is she good-looking?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," said the Sister, a little doubtfully. "She was tall +for her age, thin and unformed; she had a brown skin and hair cut short +like a boy's. Her eyes were beautiful—large and dark; but she was too +pale and awkward-looking to be pretty. When she had a color—oh, then it +was a different matter!"</p> + +<p>Hubert took away with him a full description of Jane Wood's clothes and +probable appearance, and on reaching London went straight to the office +of a private detective. To this man he told as much of Jane's story as +was necessary, and declared himself ready to spend any reasonable amount +of money so long as there was a possibility of finding the lost girl. +The detective was not very hopeful of success; the runaway had already +had two days' start—enough for a complete change of identity. Probably +she had put on boy's clothes and was lurking about the streets of +London.</p> + +<p>"But she had no money!" Hubert urged.</p> + +<p>"She'll get some somehow," the detective answered quietly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>For some days and weeks Hubert lived in a fever of suspense. He had set +his heart on finding the girl and sending her back to St. +Elizabeth's—or elsewhere. Some kind of home must be secured to her. For +the sake of his own peace of mind, he must know that she was safe. He +could not forgive Mrs. Rumbold for having been absent in Switzerland +when Sister Louisa wrote to her of Jane Wood's flight, and thus being +unable to inform him of it immediately. He had an unreasonable +conviction that, if he had known at once of Janie's disappearance, he +would have succeeded in tracking her. But for this opinion he really had +no ground at all.</p> + +<p>So days and weeks and months went on, and brought with them the +conviction that the girl was lost for ever. Nothing was heard of her +either at Winstead or at Beechfield, and Hubert Lepel was obliged at +last to acknowledge that all his efforts had been in vain. The girl +refused to be benefited any longer; the wild blood in her veins had +asserted itself; she was probably leading the outcast life from which he +thought that he had rescued her; she had gone down on the tide of +poverty and vice and crime which floods the London streets. He shuddered +sometimes when he thought of it. He haunted the doors of theatres, the +courts and alleys of East London, looking sombrely for a face which he +would not have known if he had seen it. He fancied that Andrew +Westwood's daughter would bear her history in her eyes—the great dark +eyes that he remembered as her sole beauty when she was a child.</p> + +<p>It was a mad fancy, born of his desire to atone for a wrong that he had +done to an innocent man. The wrong seemed greater than ever when it +darkened the life of a weak young girl and tortured the heart of the +innocent man's own child.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>Eight years had passed away since the tragedy that brought the little +village of Beechfield into luckless notoriety. During those eight years +what changes had taken place! Even at quiet rustic Beechfield many +things had come to pass. Old Mr. Rumbold had been gathered to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> his +fathers, and Mrs. Rumbold had gone to live with friends in London. The +new Rector was young, energetic, good-looking, and unmarried. At the +Hall there were changes too. Enid Vane had grown from a delicate child +into a lovely girl of seventeen. The house was no longer chill and +desolate—brightness seemed to have come back to it with her growth—a +brightness which even the General, saddened as he had been by his +brother's death, could not resist. He had taken his own way of +contributing to the cheerfulness of the Hall. Six months after Mrs. +Sydney Vane's death he had married Florence Lepel, as Miss Vane had +predicted that he would, and a little boy of five years old was now +running about the Hall gardens and calling the General "father." The old +man positively adored this little lad, and believed him to be +perfection. He was fond of Enid and of his wife, but he doated on the +child. He seemed indeed to love him more than did the mother of the boy. +Florence Lepel was not perhaps of a very loving disposition, but it was +remarkable that she apparently almost disliked little Dick. She never +petted or fondled the child—sometimes she rebuked him very angrily. And +yet he was docile, sweet-tempered, and quick-witted, though not +particularly handsome; but Florence had never liked children, and she +made her own son no exception to the rule.</p> + +<p>Eight years had changed Florence very little in outward appearance. She +was still pale, slender, graceful—languid in manner, slow in speech, +and given to the reading of French novels. But there were dark shades +beneath her velvety brown eyes, as if she suffered from ill-health. She +had taken to lying on a sofa a great deal; she did not visit much, and +she seldom allowed any festivity at the Hall. She remained in her +boudoir for the greater part of the day, with the rose-colored blinds +down, and the doors carefully closed and curtained to exclude any sound +of the outer world; and while she was up-stairs the General and his +niece Enid and the boy had the house to themselves, and enjoyed their +liberty extremely. In the afternoon Mrs. Vane would be found in her +drawing-room, ready for visitors; but she generally returned to her +boudoir for a rest before dinner, and steadily see her face against late +hours in the evening. Nobody knew what was the matter with her; some +people spoke vaguely of her "nerves,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of the extreme delicacy and +sensitiveness of her organisation—some said that Beechfield did not +suit her, and others whispered that she had never been "quite right" +since her baby was born. At any rate, she was a semi-invalid; and she +did not seem to know what was the matter with her any more than did +other people. She sat in her luxurious lounging-chair, or lay on the +softest of sofas, day after day without complaint, always pale, silent, +graceful—an habitual smile, sweet and weary, upon her pinched lips, but +no smile in her eyes, where a fire sometimes glowed which seemed to be +burning her very life away.</p> + +<p>One balmy September afternoon she had established herself rather earlier +than usual in the drawing-room. A bright little fire burned in the +polished steel grate—for Florence was always chilly—but the windows +were open; a faint breeze from the terrace swept into the room and moved +the lace curtains gently to and fro. The blinds were half drawn down, so +that the room was not very light; the shadowed perfumed atmosphere was +grateful after the brightness of the autumn afternoon.</p> + +<p>Florence Vane sat in a low arm-chair near the fire. She had a small +table beside her, on which stood her dainty work-basket, half full of +colored silks, her embroidery patterns, a novel, a gold vinaigrette, and +a French fan. She had cushions at her back, a footstool for her feet, a +soft white shawl on her shoulders. It was very plain that she liked to +make herself comfortable. She wore a gown of pale blue silk embroidered +in silver—a most artistic garment, which suited her to perfection, and +which was as soft and luxurious as the rest of her surroundings. The +white cat which lay curled up on the rug at her feet could not have +looked more at her ease.</p> + +<p>In a chair opposite to her sat a man of rather more than thirty, who +looked thirty-five or even forty when the little light from the +curtained windows fell upon his dark face, and showed the gray threads +that were beginning to appear in his moustache. If he had been a woman, +he would have sat with his back to the window, as Florence was doing +now. But Hubert Lepel was not at all the man to think about his +appearance, or to regret the fact, if he did think about it, that he +looked more than his age. He had found it rather an advantage to him +during the last few years.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>Florence had not seen him for some time, and she commented silently and +acutely on the change in his appearance. He had a subtle face, she +thought—keen, stern, sardonic—too deeply furrowed for a man of his +years, too haggard to be exactly handsome, but certainly very +interesting, especially to the mind of a woman who had seen little of +the world. This was as it should be. She smiled to herself; she was a +born plotter, and she had a scheme for Hubert's benefit now. It was only +fair that he should partake of the good fortune that had fallen to her +lot.</p> + +<p>"It was kind of you to come," she was saying languidly, "for I know that +you don't care for Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "I prefer London on the whole."</p> + +<p>"And foreign travel. It is quite extraordinary to think how little you +have been in England for the last few years! I have not seen you +for—how long, Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"Three years, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And then only for an hour or two in London, at intervals of six months! +I hope that you are going to be a little more sociable now, and run down +to see us occasionally."</p> + +<p>The brother and sister looked at each other steadily for a moment +without speaking. Each knew well enough what was in the other's mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hubert at last, in a peculiarly light and careless voice, "I +think I shall." He crossed his legs, and settled himself into an easier +position in his chair. "Beechfield is not a bad place to stay at for a +few days—or even a few weeks—now and then. And you seem very +comfortable, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I am comfortable. The General is very kind."</p> + +<p>"And you have a fine boy—a nice little chap," said Hubert, still +lightly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is a healthy child," she answered, in the mechanical way in +which she had spoken before.</p> + +<p>Hubert gave her a keen glance. He looked at the long but not ungraceful +lines of her slender figure, at the blue veins which showed themselves +in the dead white of her hands, at the shade beneath her eyes, and +knitted his brows a trifle impatiently. Then he spoke in lowered tones +which betrayed some suppressed emotion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>"You have gained all that you wanted," he said—"you ought to be +satisfied."</p> + +<p>She stirred a little in her chair, and allowed a faint smile to appear +upon her lips.</p> + +<p>"And you," she said, "are a very successful man. How many nights did +your last play run? You are popular; you have made money; you ought to +be satisfied too."</p> + +<p>Each knew that the other was not satisfied at all, each knew the cause +of that silent dissatisfaction with what life had to give.</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied," said the man grimly.</p> + +<p>It was the tone that said, "I will be satisfied in spite of fate! In +spite of my own actions, my own sin, my own remorse, I will be +satisfied!"</p> + +<p>"You have changed your note," said Florence, regarding him curiously.</p> + +<p>"And not too soon," he answered decisively. "There is nothing so useless +as sorrowing over the past and regretting what cannot be undone. Let me +recommend my philosophy of life to you. Make the best of what remains; +we cannot bring back what we have cast away." There was a new hardness +in his tone—not of recklessness, but of unflinching determination. He +rose and stood on the hearthrug, with his hands behind him as he spoke. +"I have taken a new departure. I have wasted many hours of the past. I +am resolved to waste not one hour in future. 'Though much is taken, much +remains,' as the poet says; and you and I, Florence, have all to look +for in the future and nothing in the past."</p> + +<p>"That is true," she said, in a very low tone. "Nothing in the past!" +Then she sat up, as if stirred to movement by his attitude, and looked +at him again. "What has caused this change of mind, Hubert? Have you +fallen in love?"</p> + +<p>He uttered a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not I—I don't know the sensation."</p> + +<p>"You knew it a few years ago, when I thought you would marry pretty Mary +Marsden."</p> + +<p>"She married a Jew money-lender," said Hubert drily. "I saw her the +other day—she weighs fourteen stone, I should think!"</p> + +<p>"Poor little Mary! It is not love then?"</p> + +<p>"No, it is not." He was silent a minute or two, pull<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>ing his moustache +with a quick nervous movement which betrayed some agitation of mind. +Then he said quickly, "I had better tell you something and get it over, +though I have no wish to rake up the memory of unpleasant subjects. I +heard a few months ago that the man Westwood was dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead? At Portland?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. An accident on the works where he was engaged. He died after a few +hours' unconsciousness."</p> + +<p>Florence meditated for a few moments and then said softly—</p> + +<p>"I think that I now understand."</p> + +<p>"It will be better that we do not speak of the matter again," said +Hubert, in the masterful way which she was beginning to recognise as one +of his characteristics. "It is all over and done with; nothing we can +say or do will make any difference. The man is gone, and we are here. We +can begin a new life if we choose."</p> + +<p>His sister watched him with eyes which expressed a greater gloom than he +was able to understand. Her hands began to tremble as he said the last +few words.</p> + +<p>"You can—you can!" she cried, almost with vehemence. "But for me—there +is no new life for me!"—and covering her face with her hands, she began +to weep, not violently, but so that he saw the tears oozing from between +her slender fingers.</p> + +<p>Hubert stood aghast. Was this trembling woman the cold imperturbable +sister whom he had known of old? He had seldom seen Florence shed tears, +even in her youthful days. Was it the consciousness of her past guilt +that had changed her thus?</p> + +<p>He reflected that, according to all tradition, a woman's nature was more +sensitive and delicate than that of a man. Florence was weighed down +perhaps by that sense of remorse which he had well-nigh forgotten. He +had, as he had said, resolved to put the past behind him and to lead a +new life. She, a woman, with all a woman's weakness, found it a +difficult task to forgive herself the misery that she had caused; and +he, the only person who could understand and sympathise with her, who +might have strengthened her in her struggle against evil—for such he +considered must be the cause of her distress—he had neglected her, and +been perhaps a source of pain instead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> encouragement. He should have +remembered that her guilt was surely not greater than his own.</p> + +<p>Softened by these thoughts, he bent down to place his hand on her +shoulder and to kiss her forehead.</p> + +<p>"My poor Flossy," he said, using the old pet name as he had used it for +many weary years, "you must not grieve now! Forget the past—we can but +leave it to Heaven. There is nothing—absolutely nothing now—that we +can do."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, letting her hands fall upon her lap and wearily +submitting to his kiss—"nothing for you—nothing at all for you—now."</p> + +<p>There was a deep meaning in her words to which he had not the slightest +clue.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert Lepel had accepted his sister's invitation to Beechfield Hall for +two nights only; but, as he had given her to understand, he was quite +ready to come again, supposing of course that she made his visit +agreeable to him. So far—an hour and a half after his first arrival—it +had not been very agreeable. He had been obliged to allude to a matter +which was highly unpleasant to him, and he had had to stand by while his +sister burst into quite unnecessary and incomprehensible tears. He was +not so soft-hearted a man as he had been eight years ago, and he told +himself impatiently that he could not stand much more of this kind of +thing.</p> + +<p>For the last three years he had been, as Florence had said, almost +always out of England. When his search for Jane Wood proved a failure, +he had taken a strong dislike for a time to London life and London ways. +He had been making money by his literary work, and was well able to +afford himself a little recreation. He went to Egypt therefore, and to +India, took a look at China and Japan, and came home by way of South +America. He did not care to go too much in beaten tracks; and during his +absence he wrote a book or two which were fairly successful, and a play +which made a great sensation. He had come back to London now, and was at +work upon another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> play, on which great hopes had been founded. If it +were as successful as the first, there was every likelihood of his +becoming a rich man. He had got his head fairly above water, and meant +to keep it there; he conceived that he had brooded too long over the +past.</p> + +<p>He had seen little Dick Vane when he first arrived, and he had spent +nearly two hours with Florence; but he had not yet encountered the +General or the General's niece and adopted daughter, Enid Vane. The two +had gone out riding, and did not return until after five o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Just in time for tea!" said the General, in a tone of profound +satisfaction. "I thought that we were later. And how do you find +yourself, Hubert, my dear boy? Why, I declare I shouldn't have known +you! Should you, Enid? He is as brown as a Hindoo."</p> + +<p>"Would you have known me?" said Hubert, with a smile at the girl who had +followed her uncle into the room, and now gave him her hand by way of +greeting. The smile was forced in order to conceal a momentary twitch of +his features, which he could not quite control at the first sight of +Sydney Vane's daughter; but it looked natural enough.</p> + +<p>The girl raised her eyes to his face with a shy sweet smile.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that I don't remember very well," she said; and Hubert +thought that he had never seen anything much prettier than her smile.</p> + +<p>She was seventeen, and looked so fair, so delicate, in her almost +childish loveliness of outline and expression, that Florence's white +skin became haggard and hard in comparison. Her slight figure was +displayed to full advantage by a well-made riding-habit, and under her +correct little high hat her golden hair shone like sunshine. There was a +soft color in her cheeks, a freshness on her smiling lips, that made the +observer long to kiss them, as if they belonged to some simple child. +Her manner too was almost that of a child—frank, naive, direct, and +unembarrassed; but in her eyes there lurked a shadow which contradicted +the innocent simplicity of her expressive countenance. If was not a +shadow of evil, but of sadness, of a subdued melancholy—the sadness of +a girl whose life had been darkened in early life by some undeserved +calamity. It was a look that redeemed her face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> from the charge of +inanimateness that might otherwise have been brought against it, and +gave it that faintly sombre touch which was especially fascinating to a +man like Hubert Lepel.</p> + +<p>He continued to talk to the General, who had questions to ask him +concerning his travels and his friends; but his eyes followed the +movements of the girl as she stepped quietly about the room, pouring out +tea for one, carrying cake and biscuits to another. Twice he sprang up +to assist her, but was met with a smile and a shake of the head from +her, and the assurance from her uncle that Enid liked waiting on +people—he need not try to take her vocation from her. He had to sit +down again, and thought, half against his will, of that other +Enid—Tennyson's Enid, in her faded gown—and of Prince Geraint's desire +to kiss the dainty thumb "that crossed the trencher as she set it down." +He at least was no Geraint, he said to himself, to win this gentle +maiden's heart. But he watched her nevertheless, with a growing +admiration which was not a little dangerous.</p> + +<p>With a faint cynical smile Florence noted the direction of his eyes. As +soon as her husband and his niece entered the room, she had lapsed into +the graceful indolent silence which seemed habitual to her. Enid brought +her a cup of tea, and ministered to her wants with assiduity and +gentleness of manner, though, as Hubert thought, with no great show of +affection; and Florence accepted the girl's attentions with perfect +equanimity and a caressing word of two of thanks. And yet Hubert +fancied—he knew not why—that there was no look of love in Flossy's +drooping eyes.</p> + +<p>"Please may I come in?" said Master Dick's small treble at the door. He +was a fair, blue-eyed little fellow, but not much like either his father +or his mother, thought Hubert, as the child stood in the doorway and +looked rather doubtfully into the room.</p> + +<p>Florence's brow contracted for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Why are you not having your nursery-tea?" she said. "We do not want you +here unless we send for you."</p> + +<p>"I want to see uncle Hubert," persisted the boy stolidly.</p> + +<p>Hubert held out his hand to him with a smile that children still found +winning.</p> + +<p>"Come in, little man," he said. "I want to see you too."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>Dick marched in at once, still, however, keeping an eye fixed upon his +mother. There was something almost like fear in the look; and it was +noticeable that neither the General nor Enid spoke to invite him into +the room.</p> + +<p>"You may come in," Florence said at last, very coldly—almost as one +might speak to a grown person whom one had strong reason to +dislike—"but you cannot stay more than five minutes. You are not wanted +here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, I think we all want him!" said Hubert good-humoredly. "I wish +to make my nephew's acquaintance, at any rate. I have something for him +in my portmanteau up-stairs."</p> + +<p>Florence made a sudden and, as it seemed, involuntary gesture, and +knocked down a vase of flowers on the table at her right hand. There was +some confusion in consequence, as the flowers had to be gathered up and +the fragments of the broken vase collected, so that Hubert had little +opportunity of talking to his nephew. And, as soon as "the fuss," as he +mentally called it, was over, Mrs. Vane said, in her coldest, slowest +voice—</p> + +<p>"Now, Dick, you may go to the nursery. Say good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night?" questioned Hubert. "Why, he does not go to bed at this +hour in the afternoon, does he?"</p> + +<p>"He goes at half-past six or seven," replied Florence. "Pray do not +interfere with nursery regulations, my dear Hubert."</p> + +<p>"I shall see more of him to-morrow, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling at +the child's wistful face as he went from one to another to say +good-night.</p> + +<p>Little Dick's eyes lit up at once, but the light in them died out when, +on tip-toe, as if afraid of disturbing her, he approached his mother. +Hubert thought that there was a touch of something odd in the manner of +everyone present, and was glad to see that Enid's kisses and whispered +words of endearment brought a flush of pleasure to the child's delicate +cheeks before he turned away.</p> + +<p>The General then took possession of the visitor and marched him off to +look at the stables. The old man had recovered all his old cheeriness +and heartiness of manner; there was a little more feebleness in his gait +than there used to be, and he walked with a stick, but Hubert was +pleased to see that his eyes were bright, and to find him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> loquaciously +inclined. The shock of Sydney's death had not seriously affected him, +and Hubert was conscious of a thrill of relief at the sight of his +evident health and happiness. Considering that Mr. Lepel believed +himself to have closed his heart against the past, he was singularly +open to attacks of painful memory. He was annoyed by his own readiness +to be hurt, and almost wished that he had not come to Beechfield.</p> + +<p>He saw neither of the ladies again till dinner time, when he thought +that Enid looked even lovelier in her simple white frock than in her +riding-habit. He observed her a good deal at dinner, and made up his +mind that she was the very model of an ideal heroine—sweet, gentle, +pure-minded, intelligent—all that a fresh young English girl should be. +The type did not attract him greatly; but it was just as well to study +so perfect a specimen when he had one at hand; he wanted to introduce a +girl of this sort into his next novel, and he preferred portraiture to +mere invention. He would keep the novel in mind when he talked to her; +it would perhaps prevent any dwelling on unpleasant subjects—for, oh, +how like the girl's eyes were to those of her dear father!</p> + +<p>So he sat by the piano after dinner while Enid played dreamy melodies, +that soothed the General into slumber, and then he persuaded her to walk +with him in the moonlight on the terrace, and talked to her of his +strange adventures in foreign lands until the child thought that she had +never heard anything half so wonderful before. And, as they passed and +repassed the windows, they were watched by Florence Vane with eyes that +gleamed beneath her heavy eyelids, with the narrow intentness of the +emerald orbs belonging to her favorite white cat. She had never looked +more as if she were silently following some malevolent design, than when +she watched the couple on the terrace on that moonlit night.</p> + +<p>Enid very quickly made friends with Mr. Lepel—so quickly indeed that +she was led to confide some of her most private opinions to him before +he had been much more than twenty-four hours at Beechfield Hall. It was +anent little Dick and his mother that the first confidence took place.</p> + +<p>The whole party had been having tea under the great beech-tree on the +lawn, and after a time Enid and Hubert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> were left alone by the others. +They chatted gaily together, he answering her eager questions about +London and Paris and Berlin, she catechising him with an eagerness which +amused and interested him. Presently they saw Dick running towards them +across the lawn. A white figure at one of the windows on the terrace, a +call to the boy, and Dick's wild career was arrested. He stood still for +a moment, then turned slowly towards the house, breaking into a childish +wail of grief as he did so. Hubert stopped short in the sentence that he +was addressing to his young cousin, and looked after the boy.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with the poor little chap?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Enid's eyes were fixed anxiously upon the window where the white figure +had appeared.</p> + +<p>"Florence called him," she said, in a very small voice.</p> + +<p>"And why should the fact of his mother's calling him make him cry?"</p> + +<p>"Florence thinks it best to be strict," said Enid, still with unnatural +firmness of manner. "He is running away from his nurse now, I know; and +I suppose he will be sent to bed directly after tea for doing so—as he +was yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Was he? Poor little beggar! Was that the reason why he looked so +miserable and you were all so solemn? What had he done?"</p> + +<p>"He came into the drawing-room without permission. He was let off very +easily because you were there, but I have known his mother punish him +severely for doing so."</p> + +<p>"But, good heavens," said Hubert, rising from his seat, and leaning +against the trunk of the beech-tree, while he looked down at Enid with +an expression of utter perplexity, "why on earth should the child have +so little freedom; and why should Florence be so hard on him? She must +be altered! She was never fond of children, but she was too indolent to +be severe. Was not that your experience of her when you were a child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Enid, but too hesitatingly to give Hubert all the assurance +that he wished for—"yes; she did not take much trouble about what I +did. It is different with her own child."</p> + +<p>"Surely she loves her own child better than she loved other +children—better even than you!" said Hubert, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> the soft intonation +that turned the words into a compliment. "It is natural in a mother."</p> + +<p>"One would think so," said the girl. Then, as if moved by a sudden +impulse, she spoke hurriedly, with her beautiful eyes full of tears. +"Oh, cousin Hubert"—it was thus that she had addressed him ever since +her babyhood—"do not think that I am unkind to Florence—I do not mean +it unkindly—but it does seem sometimes as if she really hated her +little boy! Poor little Dick has never known what it is to have a +mother's love. I am so sorry for him! I know what it is to be +motherless." Hubert averted his face, and gazed into the distance. "I +have lived many years without either father or mother," said the girl, +in a tone the simple pathos of which seemed to pierce her hearer's +heart, "but at any rate I remember what it was to have their love."</p> + +<p>She wondered why Hubert stood motionless and irresponsive; it was not +like him to be so silent when an appeal was made to his sympathy. She +colored rosy red, with the instinctive fear that she had gone too far, +had said something of which he did not approve, and she tried, in her +naive unconsciousness of ill, to put the matter straight.</p> + +<p>"But I have been very happy," she said earnestly. "Florence has always +been kind, and dear mamma herself could not have done more for me. It is +only that she seems cold and severe with Dick——Dear cousin Hubert, I +hope you are not angry with me for saying what I have said about your +sister?"</p> + +<p>He was obliged to look at her when she addressed him thus directly. She +was surprised by the expression of pain—bitter humiliating pain—upon +his face. Was it sympathy for her loss, she wondered, or grief for +little Dick's position, or distress at her accusation of Florence that +caused his face to wear that look of positive anguish? She could not +tell.</p> + +<p>"Angry?" he said, stretching out his hand and laying it tenderly on her +own, while the pain in his eyes softened into a melancholy as +inscrutable as the pain. "Could I ever be angry with you, Enid? Poor +little lonely motherless child! Heaven knows, if I could protect you +from sorrow or pain henceforth, I would do so at the cost of my life!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>He withdrew his hand and walked away somewhat abruptly, without once +looking round. Enid remained where he had left her, pale with emotion, +overpowered by a feeling that was neither joy nor fear, but which +partook of both.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert felt that he had been betrayed into displaying an excess of +emotion very foreign to the character of the cynic and the worldling +which he was desirous to assume. Circumstances, he told himself, had +been too strong for him. Even at the price of not making a study for a +novel of poor little Enid's personality—and how could he ever seriously +have thought of such a thing?—he must not risk close intercourse with +her. Her innocent allusions to the past, her guileless confidence in +himself, wrung his heart with shame and dismay. When he left her, he +wandered away to the other side of the sheet of water in front of the +house, until he came to a small fir plantation on the side of the hill +which rose from the water's edge. He had not been there for years, and +yet he had not forgotten a single turning in the narrow pathway that ran +deviously between the fir-tree shrubs; the memory of the little open +glade in the centre of the tiny wood had never lost its terrible +distinctness. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see every +detail of the scene, every branch of the fir-trees against the darkening +sky, every rise or depression in the mossy ground. The very scent of the +woods gave him a sickening sensation; the crunch of a broken twig made +him turn pale with the horror of a quick remembrance. For it was in the +fir-wood that Sydney Vane had been found murdered—it was in the +fir-wood that Hubert Lepel had first felt that his hand was red with his +cousin's blood.</p> + +<p>He had not at first felt all the horror of his deed. He told himself +again and again that he had been justified in what he did. He had +punished a man for a base and craven act; he had challenged him and met +him in fair fight. By all the laws of honor he considered himself +justified. It was better that Marion Vane's heart should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> broken by +her husband's death than by the news that he had deserted her. It was +better that Enid should think of her father as a saint and martyr, than +as a profligate whose hand no honest man or woman would care to hold. +Hubert Lepel sternly told himself that he had done good and not evil in +ridding the earth of a thoroughly bad man like Sydney Vane. If he might +have avowed the deed and its motive, he felt that he could almost have +gloried in it; but how to confess what he had done? At the first moment +of all he had refrained, in terrible fear of implicating Florence, not +knowing how far she would be mistress of herself; then, when he saw that +she was well able to defend her own reputation and that he might confess +the truth without bringing in her name at all—why, then he hesitated, +and found that his courage had deserted him. Florence entreated him to +conceal his act. He remembered that Sydney Vane had almost forced him to +use weapons—a course which Hubert himself would never have suggested; +and it was fatally easy to let things take their course. He hoped, in +his youthful ignorance of the laws of circumstantial evidence, that the +jury would bring in a verdict of suicide. When this hope was destroyed, +he still thought that the matter would be left a mystery—so many +mysteries were never cleared up at all! He did not think that any one +else could possibly be suspected. He was horrified when suspicion fell +upon Andrew Westwood, a poacher who had been vowing vengeance on Sydney +Vane for the past three months.</p> + +<p>To the very end of the trial he hoped that Westwood would be acquitted. +When he had been condemned, Hubert vowed to himself that at any rate no +man should suffer death in his place. If no reprieve could be obtained, +no commutation of the sentence, he would speak out and set Andrew +Westwood free. The message of mercy came only just in time. He was on +the very point of delivering himself up to justice when news arrived +that Westwood's death sentence had been commuted to one of imprisonment +for life. Did that make things any better? Hubert thought that it did. +And his heart failed him—he could not bear the thought of public +disgrace, condemnation, punishment. He knew himself to be a coward and a +villain, and yet he could not bring himself to tell the truth. When Miss +Vane accused him of heartlessness because he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> explained his pallor by +saying that he had spent the previous evening with friends, he was in +reality suffering from the depression consequent on several nights of +sleepless agony of mind. He was not silent for his own sake alone. He +was afraid of implicating Flossy, the woman to whom Sydney Vane had +proposed love, and about whom he had quarrelled with her brother. It was +Flossy's share in the matter that sealed his lips; and from the moment +of his conversation with Florence at the library window his mind was +made up. He had gone too far to draw back—Andrew Westwood must bear his +fate. Lifelong imprisonment scarcely seemed more terrible to Hubert +Lepel just then than the life sentence of remorse which he had brought +on his own head.</p> + +<p>Since those days his heart had grown harder. He had resolved to +forget—to fight down the secret consciousness of guilt which pursued +him night and day—to live his own life, in spite of the haunting sense +that he had sacrificed all that was good and noble in himself, all that +really made life worth having. He was striving hard, as he said to +Florence, to cast the past behind him, to live as if he were what he had +been before he bore about with him the shadow of a crime.</p> + +<p>But, in the very first endeavor which Hubert Lepel made to act as if the +past were done away with, he was brought face to face with it again, and +made to feel as he had seldom felt before, that he had wronged not only +those who were dead, but those who were living—for he had let Florence +become the wife of a man, the mother of a child, whom she did not love, +and he had left the girl whom his own hand had made fatherless to +Florence's care. As to Westwood's child, she was in a worse case than +Enid Vane, for she was not only orphaned but homeless perhaps, and lost +to all that was good and pure.</p> + +<p>He thought of this as he stood in the fir-wood, surveying the scene +where the suddenly-improvised duel had taken place; and, as the memory +of it grew upon him, he cast himself down on the mossy ground and sobbed +aloud. He had not shed a tear for years, and such as came now were few +and painful and bitter as gall; but they would not be repressed. It was +strange, even to himself, that he should be so beaten down by a little +thing—a child's simple words about her mother, a moment's loneliness in +the wood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> where her father had met his death. The world would not have +recognised him, the cold, subtle, polished, keen-witted <i>flâneur</i>, the +witty man of letters, critic, traveller, playwright, novelist, all in +one, in that crushed figure beneath the firs, with head bowed down, +hands clutched in agony, muscular frame shaken by the violence of +convulsive sobs. The convicted sinner, the penitent, had nothing in +common with Hubert Lepel, as known to the world at large.</p> + +<p>Presently he came to himself a little and sat up, with his hands clasped +round his knees. Some strange thoughts visited him in those quiet +moments. What if he gave up the attempt to brave life out? What if he +acknowledged the truth and cleared poor Westwood's name? England would +ring from end to end with horror at his baseness. What of that if, by +confessing, he could lay to rest the terrors that at time took a hold of +his guilty soul—terrors, not of death, nor of what comes after +death—terrors of life and of the doom of baseness reserved for the soul +that will be base, the gradual declension of heart and mind for the man +who said, "Evil be thou my good?" He was not one who could bear as yet +to think of moral death without a shiver. He had fallen, he had sinned; +but, for his misery and his punishment, his soul was not yet dead. What +then if he should give himself up to justice after all? It seemed to +him, in that moment of solitude, that only by so doing could he regain +the freedom of mind, the peace of conscience which he had now forfeited, +perhaps for evermore.</p> + +<p>He sat thinking of the possibilities of life opening out before him, and +decided that he could give them up without a pang. But there were +persons to be thought of beside himself. To his relatives, to the +relatives of the murdered man, the discovery of the truth would be a +terrible shock. There was no person—except that missing girl, of whom +he dared scarcely think—who could benefit by the clearing of Andrew +Westwood's name. The only gain that would accrue from his confession +would be, he considered, a subjective gain to himself. Abstract justice +would be done, no doubt, and Westwood's character would be cleared; but +that was all. He ought to have spoken earlier if he meant to do good by +speaking. Confession, he said to himself would be self-indulgence now.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>Hubert Lepel was wonderfully well versed, in subtle turns of +argument—in casuistry of the abstruser kind. It was long since he had +looked truth full in the face or drawn a sharp boundary-line between +right and wrong. Not easy to him was it to get back from the varying +lights and shadows of self-deception to the radiant sunshine of truth. +With bitter remorse in his heart and a strangely passionate wish to +do—now at least—the right, he yet decided to bear the burden of +silence until his dying day—to say no word, to do no act, that should +ever revive in others' minds the memory of the Beechfield tragedy. He +was not naturally callous, and he knew that concealment of the truth +would be, as it had always been, an oppression, a weary weight upon him; +but he had made up his mind that it must be so.</p> + +<p>"Moralists tell us never to do evil that good may come," he murmured to +himself, with head bowed upon his knees; "but surely in this case, when +it is not—not altogether my own good that I seek, a little evil may be +pardoned, a little wrong condoned! Heaven forgive me! If I have sinned, +I think that I have suffered too!"</p> + +<p>He lifted up his head at last, and saw the red light of sunset burning +between the upright stems of the fir-trees, stealing with strange +crimson tints amongst the yellowing bracken and umber drift of +pine-needles, scarcely touching, however, the black shades of the +foliage overhead. With a sudden shiver Hubert rose to his feet. It +seemed to him that the red light looked like blood. He turned hastily to +go; he had lingered too long, had excited his own emotions too keenly. +He resolved that he would never visit the lonely fir-wood again. He +wondered why it had stood so long. If he had been the General, he would +have had the trees hewn down after the trial, and done away with every +memento of the place.</p> + +<p>When he escaped from the shadow of the wood, and saw the red sun setting +behind the hills, sending long level beams over the tranquil meadows, +and bathing field and grove and highway-road alike in ruddy golden +light, he drew a long breath of relief. And yet he felt that he was not +quite the same man that had entered the wood an hour before. The +foundations of his soul had been shaken; he had made a resolve; he +looked at life from a new standpoint. The half-defiant determination to +make the best of the future which he had announced to his sister was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +purged of its defiance. He would make the best of his future—yes. But +for this purpose he would injure no man or woman henceforward; he would +work with less selfishness of aim—for the good of the world at large as +well as for himself. Something seemed broken in him by that lonely hour +in the wood—some hardness, some coldness of temper was swept away. To +him perhaps Tennyson's words respecting Lancelot were applicable still—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So groaned Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Not knowing he should die a holy man."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Far enough from anything like holiness was Hubert Lepel, but a nobler +life was possible to him yet.</p> + +<p>Florence commented that evening on his pale and wearied countenance, but +he smiled at her questions, and would not allow that anything ailed him. +He sat by her side for the greater part of the evening. It was as well, +he thought, to be chary of Enid's companionship. She was so sweet, so +frank, that she beguiled him into imprudent frankness in return. He +would not sit beside her at the piano therefore, or walk with her upon +the terrace, although she looked prettier than ever, with a new wistful +light in her blue eyes, a rose-flush upon her delicate cheeks. He knew +that she was disappointed when he did not come; no matter—the child +must not look on him as anything but a casual acquaintance who had +spoken a few rash words of compliment which it were idle to take too +seriously; and he would stay with Florence.</p> + +<p>"Enid looks well to-night," said his sister, in her soft careless tones. +"She is a pretty little thing when in good health."</p> + +<p>"Is she delicate?" Hubert asked, in some surprise.</p> + +<p>"She has nervous attacks; she has had them at intervals ever since she +was nine years old." Nine years old—the date of her father's death!—as +Hubert knew. "At first we thought they were of an epileptic kind; but +the doctors say that they are purely nervous, and will cease when she is +older and stronger."</p> + +<p>Hubert inquired no further. The subject was disagreeable to him, +inasmuch as it connected Enid's health with her parent's fate and his +sister's disastrous influence upon the family. It was always a matter of +keen regret to him that he had not been able to hinder Florence's +marriage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> which she had prudently made a matter of secrecy until it was +too late for the General's friends to interfere. Her calm appropriation +of the position which she had secured, and, above all, the +pseudo-maternal way in which she spoke of Enid, irritated Hubert almost +beyond endurance.</p> + +<p>He went back to London on the following day, promising to return to +Beechfield Hall before long. For some reason or other he felt eager to +get away—the air of the place seemed to excite his sensibilities +unduly, he told himself. It struck him afterwards that Enid looked very +pale and downcast when she bade him good-bye. He took his leave of her +hurriedly, feeling as if he did not like to look her full in the face. +He was afraid, that if he looked, he would be only too sure of what he +guessed—that her eyes were full of tears. He was almost glad that a +speedy return to London was incumbent upon him. He had next day to +superintend the rehearsal of his new play, which was shortly to be +produced at one of the smaller theatres; and as soon as he reached his +apartments he was immersed in business of every kind.</p> + +<p>The next morning's rehearsal was followed by luncheon with friends, and +attendance at a <i>matinée</i> given for the benefit of the widow and +children of an actor—a performance at which Hubert thought it well to +be present, although he invariably bemoaned the loss of time. The piece +was not over until six o'clock, and he amused himself afterwards by +going behind the scenes, and chatting with some of his acquaintances +among actors, actresses, managers, and critics. Thus it was nearly seven +before he issued from the theatre, in a street off the Strand, and the +day was already drawing to a close. The lamps were lighted and a fog was +gathering, through which their beams assumed a yellow and unnatural +intensity. Hubert stood on the edge of the pavement, leisurely drawing +on his gloves and looking out for a hansom, contrasting meanwhile the +glories of the Strand with those of the autumn woods in Hampshire, when +his attention was arrested by the sound of a woman's voice.</p> + +<p>"If you please, Mr. Lepel, may I speak to you?"</p> + +<p>He turned round hastily, and, after a moment's hesitation, recognised +the girl who had addressed him as a young actress whom he had lately +come to know. She had been playing a very small part in the comedy +which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> he had just seen. He vaguely remembered having heard her +name—she was known on the bills as Miss Cynthia West.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert raised his hat courteously.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Miss West. Of course you may speak to me!" he said. "Can +I do anything for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the girl with a quickness which sounded abrupt, but +which, as could easily be seen, was born of shyness and not of +incivility. "You can get me an engagement if you like, Mr. Lepel; and I +wish you would."</p> + +<p>Hubert laughed, not thinking that she was in earnest, and surveyed her +critically.</p> + +<p>"You will not have much difficulty in getting one for yourself, I should +think," he said.</p> + +<p>Miss West colored and drew back rather haughtily. It was evident that +she did not like remarks of a personal bearing, although Mr. Lepel had +spoken only as he would have thought himself licensed to speak to girls +of her profession, who are generally open to such compliments—and +indeed she was not very likely to escape compliments. As he looked at +her in the light of the gas-lamps before the theatre, Hubert Lepel +became gradually aware that there stood before him one of the most +beautiful women he had ever seen.</p> + +<p>She was tall—nearly as tall as himself—but so finely proportioned that +she gave the impression of less height than she really possessed. Every +movement of her lithe limbs was full of grace; she was slender without +being thin, and lissom as an untrained beautiful creature of the woods. +In after-days, when Hubert knew her better, he used to compare her to a +young panther for grace and freedom of motion. It was a pleasure to +watch her walk, although her step was longer and freer than to Enid +Vane's teachers would have seemed desirable. Her features were perfectly +cut; the broad forehead, the straight nose, the curved lips<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> and +slightly-puckered chin were of the type recognised as purely Greek, and +the complexion and eyes accompanying these features were rich in the +coloring that glows upon the canvases of Murillo and Velasquez. The skin +was of a creamy brown, heightened by a carmine tint in the oval cheeks; +the eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, with long black lashes and +well-defined black brows. It seemed somehow to Hubert as if those eyes +were familiar to him, but he could not recollect how or why. For the +rest, Miss Cynthia West was a very well-dressed, stylish-looking young +woman, neither fast nor shabby in her mode of attire; and the things +that she wore served—intentionally or not—to set off her good looks to +the best advantage. Hubert had seen her several times off and on the +stage during the past few weeks since his return to England; she took +none but minor parts, but was so remarkably handsome that she had begun +to attract remark. He was a little surprised by her speech to him, and +hardly thought she could be in earnest. In fact, he suspected her of a +mere desire to attract his attention.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were at the Frivolity?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I have left the Frivolity," she answered abruptly. "This afternoon's +engagement is the only one I have had for a fortnight; and I have +nothing in prospect."</p> + +<p>He gave her a keener look, and in spite of her brave bearing and her +dainty clothes, he thought he perceived a slight pinching of the +delicate features, a dark shade beneath the eyes which—if he remembered +rightly—had not been there two months before. Was it possible that the +girl was really in want? Could he put his hand into his pocket and offer +her money? He might make the attempt at any rate.</p> + +<p>"Can I be of any use to you—in this way?" he began, inserting two +fingers into his waistcoat-pocket in a sufficiently significant manner.</p> + +<p>He was aware of his mistake the next moment. An indignant flush spread +over the girl's whole face; her eyes expressed such hurt surprise that +Mr. Lepel felt rather ashamed of his suggestion.</p> + +<p>"I did not ask you for money," said Miss West; "I asked if you could get +me something to do." Then she turned away with a gesture which Hubert +took for one of mere petulance, though the feeling that actuated it +border<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>ed more nearly on despair. "Oh," she said with a quick nervous +irritation audible in her tone, "I thought that you would +understand!"—and her beautiful dark eyes swam in tears.</p> + +<p>They were still standing on the pavement, and at that moment two or +three passers-by shouldered Hubert somewhat roughly, and stared at the +girl to whom he was speaking. Hubert placed himself at her side.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said—"Walk on a few paces with me, and make me understand +what you want when we get to a quieter spot."</p> + +<p>She bowed her head; it was evident that if she had spoken the tears +would have fallen from her eyes. Hubert turned up the comparatively dark +and quiet street in which stood the theatre that he had just visited; +but for a few minutes he did not speak. At last he said in the soothing +voice which was sometimes thought to be his greatest charm—</p> + +<p>"Now will you make me understand? I beg your pardon for having offended +you by my offer of help; I meant it in all kindness. You have not an +engagement just now, you say?"</p> + +<p>"It is not easy to get one," said the girl, with a quiver in her proud +young voice. "It is not a good time, you know. I had two or three offers +of engagements with provincial companies this autumn, but I refused them +all because I had this one at the Frivolity. They were to give me two +pounds a week; and it was considered a very good engagement. Besides, it +was a London engagement, which I thought it better to take while I had +the chance. But I have lost it now, and I don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"You know the first question one naturally feels inclined to put to you, +Miss West, is, why did you leave the Frivolity?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you the real reason," said the girl sharply. The color in +her face seemed now to be concentrated in two flaming spots in her +cheeks; her mouth was set, and her brow contracted over the brilliant +eyes. "I quarrelled with the manager—that was all."</p> + +<p>"Let me see—the manager is Ferguson, is he not? I know him."</p> + +<p>"But he is not a friend of yours?" said Cynthia, turning towards him +with a look of sudden dismay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>"Certainly not! He is the most confirmed liar I ever met," Hubert +answered without a smile.</p> + +<p>But he was a little curious in his own mind. From what he knew of +Ferguson, he supposed it likely that the man had been making love to the +young actress, that she had refused to listen to him, and that he had +therefore dismissed her from the troupe. Such things had happened +before, he knew, during Mr. Ferguson's reign; and the Frivolity did not +bear the very best character in the world. With a girl of Cynthia West's +remarkable beauty, it was pretty easy to guess the story, although the +girl in her innocence thought that she was concealing it completely.</p> + +<p>"He said that I was careless," Cynthia went on rapidly. "He changed the +hour for rehearsal twice, and let everybody know but me; then I was +fined, of course; and I complained, and then he said I had better go."</p> + +<p>"What made you come to me?" said Hubert. "I am not a manager, you know."</p> + +<p>"You have a great deal of influence," she said, rather more shyly than +she had spoken hitherto.</p> + +<p>"Very little indeed. Other people have much more. Why did you not try +Gurney or Thomson or Macalister?"—mentioning names well known in the +theatrical world.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Lepel," said the girl, almost in a whisper, "you will think me +so foolish if I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"No, I sha'n't. Do tell me why!"</p> + +<p>"Well"—still in a whisper—"it was because I read a story, that you had +written—a tale about a girl called Amy Maitland—do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to remember," said Hubert thoughtfully, "because I know I wrote +it; but an author does not always recall his old stories very +accurately, Miss West. It was a short tale for a Christmas number, I +know. What was there in it that could cause you to honor me in this way, +I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, don't laugh at me, please, Mr. Lepel!" Cynthia's voice was so sweet +in its entreating tones that Hubert thought he had never heard anything +more musical. "It was all about a girl who was poor like me, and whose +parents were dead, and about her adventures, you know—particularly +about her not being able to get any work to do, and nearly throwing +herself into the river. I have had the thought more than once lately +that it would end with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> me in that way—the river looks so deep and +silent and mysterious—doesn't it? But that's all nonsense, I suppose! +However, when I read about Amy in the old Christmas number, that my +landlady lent me the other night, it came to my mind that I had seen you +behind the scenes, and that, if you could write in that way, you might +be more ready—ready to help——" She stopped short, a little breathless +after her long and tremulous speech.</p> + +<p>"My poor child," said Hubert, with the tender accent that showed that he +was moved, "I am afraid it does not always follow. However, let us take +the most cheerful view possible of all things, even of novelists, and +try to believe that they practise what they preach. It would be hard if +I did not prove worthy of your confidence, Miss West. I am sure I don't +know whether I will be able to do anything for you or not, but I will +see."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Lepel."</p> + +<p>She said the words very low, and drew a quick breath of relief as she +said them. By the light of a gas-lamp under which they were passing at +the moment Hubert saw that she had turned very pale. He halted suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I am very thoughtless," he said, "not to recollect that you must be +tired, and that I am perhaps taking you out of your way."</p> + +<p>"No," said Cynthia simply; "I always go this way. I lodge at a +boarding-house in the Euston Road."</p> + +<p>"Then let us to business at once!" exclaimed Mr. Lepel, in a cheerful +tone. "What sort of engagement do you want, Miss West?"</p> + +<p>She was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, with some unusual +timidity of manner—</p> + +<p>"I should very much like to have an engagement at a place where I could +sing."</p> + +<p>"Sing!" repeated Hubert, arching his brows a little. "Can you sing? Have +you a voice?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Cynthia.</p> + +<p>The audacity of the assertion took away Hubert's breath. He looked at +her pityingly.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss West, are you aware that singing is a profession in +itself, and requires a professional training, like other things?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I can sing," said the girl decidedly.</p> + +<p>"Where did you learn?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>"At school, and then of an old music-master in the boarding-house where +I am living."</p> + +<p>If he had not been afraid of wounding her feelings, Hubert would have +shrugged his shoulders. They were again standing on the pavement, face +to face, and he refrained from the scornful gesture.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, after a short pause, "if you think so, there is nothing +to do but to try you. I must hear you sing, Miss West, before I can say +anything about a musical engagement. Shall I come and see you +to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Cynthia, with such transparent horror at the suggestion +that Mr. Lepel was very much amused. "We have no piano, and I am sure +that Mrs. Wadsley would not like it."</p> + +<p>"Then will you come to my rooms at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Oh, Mr. Lepel, I am so very, very much obliged to you!"</p> + +<p>"I have done nothing yet to merit thanks, Miss West. I shall be only +glad if I can be the means of assisting a fellow-artist out of a +difficulty." He saw that the words brought a bright glow of gratified +feeling to the girl's face. "Here is my card; my rooms are not very far +off, you see—in Russell square."</p> + +<p>Cynthia took the card and thanked him again so warmly that Hubert +assured her that he was already overpaid. They had reached the broad +torrent of life that rolls down New Oxford street, and further +conversation became almost impossible. Hubert bent his head to say—</p> + +<p>"Shall I put you into a cab now, or may I see you home?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "I am quite well used +to going about alone; and it is a very little way. Good night; and I am +so much obliged to you!"</p> + +<p>"Let me see you over this crossing, at any rate," said Hubert.</p> + +<p>She was too quick for him; she had already plunged into the tide, and he +saw her the next moment halting on the central resting-place of the +broad thoroughfare. He attempted to follow, but was too late, and had to +wait a moment or two for a couple of heavy carts. When the road was +clear again, he saw that she had safely reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> the other side; and, as +soon as he had crossed, he dimly perceived her graceful figure some +distance ahead on the sombre pavements of Bedford square. His impulse +was to overtake her, but after a few rapid strides he abandoned the +intention. The girl was safe enough at that early hour; no doubt she was +accustomed, as she said, to take care of herself. No need to launch into +a romantic episode—to walk behind her, keeping watch and ward, as if +she were likely to encounter terrible danger on the way. And yet, for +some reason or another, he continued to walk—slowly now—in the +direction which Cynthia West had taken.</p> + +<p>It was quite out of his own way to go all along Gower street and +eastward down the Euston Road, yet that was what he did. He saw the tall +slight figure stop at an iron gate, push it open, and walk up the +flagged pavement to the door of a dingy but highly respectable-looking +house. The Euston Road is a neighborhood not greatly affected by people +of fastidious taste; and Hubert wondered, with a shrug of the shoulders, +why Miss West had found a lodging in the very midst of its ceaseless +maddening roar. He passed the house with a slow step, and as he did so +he read an inscription on the brass plate which adorned the gate by +which Cynthia had entered—</p> + +<p class="center"> +"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Wadsley.</span><br /> +"Select Boarding-House for Ladies and Gentlemen.<br /> +"Moderate Terms."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Very moderate and very select, no doubt," thought Hubert cynically. +"Now is that girl making a fool of me, or is she not? All those pretty +airs might so easily be put on by a clever actress. I shall find her out +to-morrow. She can act a little—I know that; but, if she can't sing, +after what she has said, she may go to Jericho for me! And, if she does +not come at all, why, then I shall know that she is an arrant little +impostor, and that I am a confounded fool!"</p> + +<p>"He stopped to light a cigar under a lamp-post, and a slight smile +played over his features as he struck the match.</p> + +<p>"She's a beautiful girl," he said to himself; "if she does turn out an +impostor, I shall be rather sorry. But, by Jove, I don't believe she +will!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>"Shall I take off my hat before I sing?" said Miss West calmly.</p> + +<p>She was in Hubert's sitting-room. Mr. Lepel had the drawing-room floor +of a large and fine old house in Russell square—a floor which contained +two drawing-rooms opening out of each other, a bed and bath-room, and a +small den, generally called a smoking-room, although its master's pipes +and cigars were to be found in all corners of the apartments. Hubert had +partially furnished the rooms for himself, and thus done away with the +bare and ungarnished appearance usually characteristic of a London +lodging.</p> + +<p>Miss West glanced around the room on her first entry with some +astonishment largely commingled with admiration. The mixture of luxury +and disorder which met her eyes might have surprised even persons more +conversant with the world than Cynthia West. The golden-brown plush +curtains between the rooms were half pushed back, and showed that the +back-room had been turned into a library. Shelves crowded with books, +tables heaped with them, a great writing-table and a <i>secrétaire</i> showed +that Mr. Lepel used the room for what might be called "professional" +purposes. But in the front drawing-room there had been attempts—and not +unsuccessful attempts—at more artistic decoration. The curtains were of +exquisite brocade, some charming etchings adorned the walls, great +porcelain bowls of flowers had been placed on the oddly-shaped little +tables that stood about the room. A pianette had been pulled out from +the wall, and an Algerian shawl glistening with gold was loosely thrown +over its back. Other articles of decoration were suggestive of foreign +travel. A collection of murderous-looking weapons had been fastened on +the wall between the two windows, some Eastern embroideries were thrown +here and there over the furniture, and an inlaid mother-o'-pearl stool, +an enormous narghileh, and some Japanese kakemonos gave the room quite +an outlandish air. In spite of its oddness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> there was a brightness and +pleasantness about the place, due to the gay tints of the Oriental +stuffs, and the hue and fragrance of the flowers with which pots and +bowls and vases were plentifully filled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, take off your hat and cloak, please," said Hubert, "if you do not +mind the trouble."</p> + +<p>"It is no trouble at all; I can sing much better without my outdoor +things," replied the girl promptly.</p> + +<p>She took off her little black-and-white hat and her neat little jacket, +and displayed herself in a closely-fitting black gown which suited her +admirably, in spite of its plainness. There was no touch of color or +sign of ornament; a rim of white collar around the neck and white cuffs +at her wrists gave the only relief to the gown's sombre hue. And yet, +with the vivid beauty of her face above the plain dark garment, it +seemed as if she could not have found a garb that was more absolutely +becoming. She stood beside the little piano for a moment with a roll of +music in her hand, and looked at Hubert questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Shall I play my own accompaniment?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that; I could have judged better of your voice if we +had had an accompanist," said her host. "I could play for you myself if +you liked."</p> + +<p>"No; I will do it," said Cynthia decidedly, "Go to the other end of the +room, will you, please, Mr. Lepel? You will hear me better there."</p> + +<p>There was a pretty air of command about her which amused Mr. Lepel. This +young woman, he reflected, as he took up the position which she had +recommended, was not one who would be contented with a secondary +position anywhere. She evidently considered herself born to rule. Well, +he would do her bidding; he had no objection to the rule of a pretty +woman! He was not disposed to take Miss Cynthia West and her singing +very seriously—as yet.</p> + +<p>Cynthia seated herself at the piano, while Hubert flung himself into an +easy-chair at the farther end of the room, and crossed his arms behind +his head in an attitude of attention and endurance, which showed that he +was not expecting much and was prepared to bear the worst. For the +singing of an average girl of eighteen or nineteen, with an ambition to +appear on a public stage, is apt to be trying to the sensibilities of +the true music-lover; and Hubert Lepel was no mean critic of the art.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>Cynthia played a few opening bars, and then began to sing a popular +ballad of the day. When she had finished it, she did not look round, but +went on fingering the notes, gliding gradually into another key. Then +suddenly she broke out into a fine old Italian aria, which she sang with +much fire and expression, availing herself of every opportunity of +<i>fioriture</i> and <i>cadenza</i> afforded by the song. And thence, with only a +few bars of symphony between, she launched herself upon one of +Schubert's most passionate love-songs, and sang it in a style which +brought the listener to his feet at its close in a musical rapture that +almost defied expression.</p> + +<p>"Why, good heavens," cried Hubert, with something not unlike a gasp, +"who on earth taught you to sing like that? And your voice—do you know, +Miss West, that your voice is simply magnificent?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia kept her head down, and continued to finger the notes—mutely +this time.</p> + +<p>"I have been told that I might be able to sing at private concerts," she +said demurely.</p> + +<p>"Private concerts! You might sing at Her Majesty's or Covent +Garden—with a little more training perhaps," said Hubert, trying to be +cautious, but failing to hide the satisfaction which shone out of his +eyes as he approached the piano. "Why have you never sung to any +manager? At least you may have done so, but I never heard a word of it; +and a voice like yours would be talked about; you know."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was old Lalli's fault," said Cynthia carelessly. "He +always impressed upon me that I could not sing a bit, and that I must +wait for years and years before I dare open my mouth in public."</p> + +<p>"And who is old Lalli?" asked Hubert, gathering up her music and +beginning to turn it over.</p> + +<p>Cynthia crossed her white hands and looked down, a shadow flitting +across her mobile face.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," she said softly. "He was a very kind old friend. He lodged +in the house where I am lodging now. As long as he lived I always had +somebody to advise me—somebody to depend on."</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered a little. Some moisture was visible on the long dark +eyelashes as they hung over the fresh young cheeks. Hubert thought again +that he had never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> seen a woman half so beautiful. The touch of emotion +softened her loveliness—made it more human, more appealing. His tone +was less light, but more simply friendly, when he addressed her again.</p> + +<p>"Was he a musician?"</p> + +<p>"He was a violinist in the Frivolity orchestra. He had been a singer +once, I believe; at any rate, he knew a great deal about singing, and he +used to give me lessons. He used to tear his hair, and frown and stamp a +great deal," said Cynthia, smiling tenderly; "but he was kind, and I +loved him very much."</p> + +<p>"You met with him at the boarding-house where you live, I suppose?" said +Hubert carelessly.</p> + +<p>Cynthia gave him a sudden glance. The color came into her face.</p> + +<p>"No," she said slowly; "he took me there." She raised her right hand and +struck a few soft notes with it before she resumed her speech. "You +would like to know how it was perhaps?" She made long pauses between her +sentences, as if she were considering what to say and what to leave +unsaid. "I came to London about four years ago, in great trouble. I had +lost all my friends—not because I had done anything wrong, because +of—other things. I wanted to get something to do in a shop or as a +servant-girl—I did not care what. I tried all day, but nobody would +give me work. I slept in the Park at night. Next day I began to search +all over again, and again it was of no use. I had no money; I was very +hungry and tired. I sat down on a step and cried, and at last some one +said to me, 'What is the matter, my poor child?' And I looked up, +frightened, and saw an old man with a long gray beard and very dark eyes +and a kind face stooping over me. That was Signor Guido Lalli, of the +Frivolity."</p> + +<p>"I remember him in the band quite well," said Hubert. "He had a good +face."</p> + +<p>"Had he not?" exclaimed the girl, with sudden passion. "He was the +kindest, wisest, best man I ever knew! I could not help trusting him, he +looked so good. He made me tell him all about myself, and then he took +me with him to the boarding-house in Euston Road where he lived, and +said that he would be responsible to the landlady for me until I got +something to do. And Mrs. Wadsley was so fond of him that she took me on +trust for his sake. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> don't believe she ever suspected how little he +really knew about me. And next day he took me to some friends of his, +and between them they got me a little engagement at a theatre; and then +I had a small speaking part, and so on—you know as well as I do how +young actresses go from step to step—so that I was able to support +myself after a time, and be no longer a burden upon him."</p> + +<p>"And would he not let you sing?"</p> + +<p>"No; he gave me lessons every day, and made me practise a long time; but +I had to promise him that I would not sing to anybody but himself +unless—unless I were obliged. I used to be angry about it; but he was +so good to me that I always gave in to him in the end. I fancy now that +he had a purpose in it all. When I was sufficiently trained, he wanted +to take me to Mapleson or some other great <i>impresario</i>, and get him to +bring me out in opera."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. But you say he died?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the girl, with a sigh, "he died—suddenly too, so that he +did not even say good-bye. He was found dead one morning in his bed. +Since then I have been all alone in the world; and I think Mr. Ferguson +knew it, and wanted to take advantage of my position."</p> + +<p>"No doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"So then, as I had no engagement at the theatre, I thought I would see +whether my voice would do anything for me. And, as I told you last +night, I made up my mind to speak to you."</p> + +<p>Hubert had stood with his arms on the piano, looking gravely down on the +girl's bent face as she told her story. As she paused, she raised her +head, and her great dark eyes looked straight into his with an +expression of mute appeal which stirred his feelings strangely. It moved +him so much that he was forced to take down his arms and turn aside from +the piano for a moment or two; he scarcely wanted her to see how deeply +he was touched. He soon came back to her side, however, and said—</p> + +<p>"If I had refused to listen to you, what would you have done?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered meditatively.</p> + +<p>"You would have gone to some manager—some celebrated <i>impresario</i>?"</p> + +<p>"And been snubbed and repulsed by one and all!" said, Cynthia, with +sudden passion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>She rose from the music-stool and stood facing him; he saw her bosom +rise and fall, he marked the varying color in her cheeks, the light and +shadow in her troubled eyes, as she poured out the impetuous words with +which her heart was charged.</p> + +<p>"I could not have borne it! I do not know how to put up with insult and +contempt. I feel that I hate all the world when it treats me in that +way. I never could be meek and good like other girls. I don't mean that +I want to be wicked—I hope I am not wicked—but, if you had failed me, +I think that I should have gone straight away to London Bridge and +thrown myself into the river—for I should have had no hope left."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," said Hubert, rather gravely, "with that voice of yours +you would have been very wrong to feel so easily discouraged."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what would the voice matter if I could get nobody to listen to it?" +cried Cynthia, with fiery scorn. "I may have a fortune in my voice, but +how will the fortune benefit me if I can't have it for the next five or +ten years, and am starving in the meantime? I could not have stayed more +than a few days at Mrs. Wadsley's, as I had no money, and was not likely +to earn any. If I was turned out, where was I to go? It is winter now, +not summer, as it was when I slept in the Park four years ago, and dear +old Lalli found me crying on the steps. A night out of doors in this +weather would not leave me much voice to sing with, I fancy! No; I had +made up my mind, Mr. Lepel—if you would not listen to me, I would go to +London Bridge. If you think me wicked, I can't help it; it was my last +resource."</p> + +<p>With her cheeks flaming, her eyes gleaming beneath her black brows, it +was plain that she was dominated by passion of no common strength, by +will and pride which made it well-nigh impossible for her to lead an +ordinary woman's life. Hubert looked at her, stupefied, fascinated by +her beauty; he was penetrated by an admiration that he had never felt +for a woman in all his life before. And she was a mere girl yet! He knew +that she would be ten times more beautiful in a few years' time.</p> + +<p>"You were right to come to me," he murmured, scarcely knowing what he +said as he gazed into the depths of the lustrous dark eyes. "You need +have no fear—you will succeed."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>Cynthia drew a long breath. Her attitude changed a little; limbs and +features seemed to relax, the color died slowly out of her flushed +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You mean," she said, in a lower voice, "that you do not think, after +all, that I was very wrong—bold, unwomanly, I mean—to speak to you, +when I did not know you, in the street last night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"I had no claim on you, I know," proceeded the girl, the light of +excitement fading out of her face, and the perfect mouth beginning to +quiver as she spoke. "It was only a fancy of mine that, as you had +seemed to understand so well how dreadful it was to be alone—alone in +this great terrible London—you would hold out a helping hand to a girl +who only wanted work—just enough to gain her daily bread." She sobbed a +little, and put her hand over her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Miss West," said Hubert seriously, with a desperate effort to retain a +composure which was very hard to keep, "I can only assure you that I +shall consider it an honor to be allowed to help in bringing you to the +notice of men, who will do far more for you than I can hope to do."</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand from her eyes and looked at him with a brilliant +smile, though the tears were still wet on her eyelashes.</p> + +<p>"You think I am worth helping?" she said. "And you will help me—you +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I will not rest," answered Hubert. "I will work night and day, and give +body and soul, and I'll see you a <i>prima donna</i> yet!"</p> + +<p>They both laughed, and then, obeying an impulse which stirred their +hearts alike, held out their hands to each other and exchanged a +friendly grasp.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>The little village of Beechfield, like all other villages, had its dark +corners where vice and misery reigned supreme. In old times Mr. and Mrs. +Rumbold—good people as they were in their own fashion—had been content +to leave these darker places to themselves; the decent religious poor +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> the parish gave them enough to do. But under the new Rector's rule a +new system had begun. The Reverend Maurice Evandale thought that his +duty lay amongst the lost sheep as well as amongst those already in the +fold. If he had been at Beechfield in the days before Sydney Vane's +death, he would never have let poor Andrew Westwood and his child remain +outcasts from the interests of religious life. He would have visited +them, talked to them, persuaded the child to go to school, perhaps even +induced the poacher to give up his vagrant ways; at any rate, he would +not have let them alone, but would have grappled fearlessly with the +difficulties of their position, and with that hostility which seemed to +exist between Westwood and the rest of the village. Whether he would +have been successful or not it were indeed hard to say, but that he +would have made a great effort to be so there can be no manner of doubt.</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale's new system produced a great sensation in the parish—not +altogether a favorable sensation either; for the villagers, who had gone +on so long in quiet, comfortable, self-complacent ways, did not regard +with a favorable eye the changes which the Rector introduced. All the +old abuses which had slumbered peacefully in darkness for so many years +were exposed relentlessly by this too energetic young man. He swept away +the village band of stringed instruments from the church gallery; he +erected an organ in the chancel, and set the schoolmistress to play it; +he introduced new tunes into the choir, new doctrines into the pulpit; +he played havoc amongst all that was fusty and musty and venerable in +the villagers' eyes. He talked about drainage, and had an inspector down +to investigate the state of the village water-supply; he waged war upon +the publicans, set up an institute and a library for the village youths, +taught the boys, played with them—thrashed them too occasionally—and +made himself a terror to evil-doers and the idol of the young ladies of +the place. Naturally much was said against him, especially behind his +back. To his face, people did not venture to say much. The young Rector +had such a fearless way of looking straight into people's eyes, of +saying what he meant and expecting other people to do the same, that he +inspired something like fear in the shiftier and less trustworthy part +of the community. On the other hand, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> weak, the sick, the very +young, instinctively loved and trusted him. "He is beautiful in a +sick-room," averred the elder women. Perhaps his words seemed beautiful +to them because they felt that by some mysterious law of sympathy he +understood their sorrows without having been a partaker in them, that he +had an infinite pity for the erring and the suffering, and that he never +felt himself less of a brother to his flock because so many of that +flock were sinful and ignorant and degraded.</p> + +<p>So, parson though he was, he became the friend and confidant of half the +village; and strange tales were poured into his ear sometimes—tales +which the tellers would formerly have laughed at the idea of relating to +the Rector of the parish so long as Mr. Rumbold reigned supreme. But to +Maurice Evandale nothing seemed to come amiss; he had interest and +sympathy for all. Stern to impenitent sinners he certainly was—brutal +men and idle lads cowered under the lash of his rebuke; but there was +not a soul in the village who did not also know that a word of +repentance, an act that showed a yearning after better things, was +sufficient to melt the Rector's wrath and turn him from a judge and +censor into a friend. Judging from the progress that Maurice Evandale +had already made in the hearts of his people, there was a fair +likelihood that if he stayed much longer he would be master of their +affections and their intellects, in a way which was unprecedented indeed +at Beechfield.</p> + +<p>He was not often at Beechfield Hall. The General liked his society +extremely, but Mrs. Vane declared that it fatigued her.</p> + +<p>"The man is so oppressively blunt and downright," she said, "that one +never knows what to expect from him next. He is a perfect bear."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Flossy, he comes of a very good family, and I have heard +him praised on all sides for his distinguished manners," expostulated +the General. "I never knew a young man so courteous, so polished!"</p> + +<p>"I am spoiled for young men, General," said Flossy, extending her hand +very graciously to her white-haired husband.</p> + +<p>It was not often that she showed herself so actively amiable towards +him. She was usually somewhat passive, receiving his attentions with a +languid indifference which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> would have disconcerted some men, but which +did not disconcert the unsuspicious old General. He was delighted with +her little compliment, kissed her hand gallantly, and avowed that nobody +should come near the house whom she disliked. So Maurice Evandale was +not invited a second time to dinner.</p> + +<p>Naturally Enid was not consulted in the matter. She never expressed any +opinion at all concerning the new Rector. She had always been a regular +church-goer, and, wet or fine, never failed to be present at the class +over which she presided every Sunday afternoon. She was not a whit more +regular in her attendance at church and school than she had been before, +whereas giddy girls like the doctor's daughter and the lawyer's bevy of +fair damsels, and even the members of a neighboring Squire's large +family of girls, had all taken to attending Mr. Evandale's services and +schools with unexampled regularity. Flossy, who seldom went to church +herself, but always inquired diligently after the worshippers, and +exacted an account of their names and number from her young kinswoman, +used to utter sarcastic little jibs anent these young women's +clearly-manifested preference for Mr. Evandale, and was heard to say +rather sharply that, if Enid followed their example, it would be worth +while to have the horses out on a Sunday and drive over to the cathedral +of Whitminster, six miles away. But Enid never gave any sign of liking +the new Rector any better than she had liked Mr. Rumbold; and, as to +take the General away from the church in which he had knelt almost every +Sunday since he came home from active service in India, after his old +father's death, would have been to uproot one of the most deeply-rooted +instincts in his life. Florence was wise enough to let the matter pass, +and to content herself with wishing that the patron of the living had +given it to an older man—or at least to a married man. There was always +danger when a bachelor of eight-and-twenty, good-looking—indeed very +handsome—and with a comfortable income, came into close contact with +young and romantic girls. And Florence did not intend Enid to marry Mr. +Evandale—she had other views for her.</p> + +<p>It was strange to see how this white, silent, languid woman, whose only +occupations in life seemed to be eating, sleeping, driving, and +dressing, was able to mould the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> natures and ambitions of others to her +liking. Behind the mask of Flossy's pensive beauty lay a brain as +subtle, a will as inflexible, a heart as cold as ever daring criminal +possessed. Nothing daunted or repelled her, and in other circumstances +and other times her genius might have made her a mark for the execration +of all succeeding ages. But her sphere was not large; she had but +indifferent material to work upon in the seclusion of a country home and +the company of an old country gentleman and his niece; and she could but +do her best to gain her ends, even though the path of them lay across +bleeding hearts and lives laid waste by her cruelty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale had felt the same distaste for her society that she had +expressed for his visits, and troubled himself not a little about the +want of charity that he discovered in himself. To his clear and +penetrating eyes there was a vein of falseness apparent in Mrs. Vane's +most honeyed speeches; her narrowed eyes were too subtle for his taste; +there were lines about her mouth which he had seen on faces of women +whom he did not love. For the life of him he could not repress a certain +honest gravity and even sternness of manner in addressing her; something +in her revolted him—he did not know how or why. He almost pitied the +General—the hearty, good old man who seemed so fond of his fair wife. +And he was sorry for Enid too, not only on account of her sad story, but +because she lived with this woman whom he distrusted, because she was +ruled by her fancies and educated according to her desires. And he was +even sorry—still without knowing why—for little Dick, whose quaint +childish face always expanded into a broad smile at the sight of him, +and whom he often met in the village, clinging fondly to Enid's hand.</p> + +<p>When he dined at the Hall, he had scarcely seen Enid, for, on some plea +of illness or fatigue, Mrs. Vane had kept her away from dinner, and her +presence in the drawing-room for the last half hour of Evandale's stay +had been a very silent one. But he often saw her in church. The Vanes' +pew was just in front of the pulpit, and the Rector could not preach +without noticing the steady attention given to him by the girl in the +Squire's pew, could not fail to be struck by the sweetness of the fair +uplifted face, the beauty of the pathetic eyes, in which there always +lurked the shadow of some past or future pain. The Rector fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> into the +habit of preaching to that fair young face. But, strangely enough, he +did not preach as men usually preach to the young and innocent—his +words were often of consolation for bitter grief, tender counsel for the +afflicted, even of future hope and amendment for the guilty. Nothing +less peculiarly appropriate to a young girl of seventeen than some of +his sermons could be imagined—and yet they were all addressed to Enid +Vane. It was as if he were trying to strengthen her for some dread +conflict, some warfare of life and death, which his foreseeing eye +discerned for her in days to come.</p> + +<p>Enid was allowed to do a little district-visiting in the parish, and Mr. +Evandale had often heard reports of her gentleness and goodness; but he +had never personally encountered her on any of her errands of mercy. An +exception to this rule, however, took place on a certain afternoon in +November, a few weeks after Hubert Lepel's visit to Beechwood.</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale had on that day received information that one of his +parishioners—a Mrs. Meldreth—was seriously ill and would like to see +him. The informant added that she brought the Rector word of this, +because Mrs. Meldreth's daughter Sabina was now at home, and seemed +anxious to keep the clergyman away. The Rector's fighting instincts were +at once aroused by this communication. He knew Sabina Meldreth by name +only, and had not derived a very pleasant impression of her from all +that he had heard. She had once been an under-housemaid at the Hall, but +had been dismissed for misconduct—of what sort nobody could exactly +say, although much was hinted at which the gossips did not put into +words—and had left the village soon afterwards. Since that time she had +been seen at Beechfield only at intervals; she came occasionally to see +her mother, and stated that she was "engaged in a millinery business at +Whitminster, and doing well." Certainly her airs and graces, her plumes +and jewelry, seemed to betoken that her finances were in a flourishing +condition. But she never came to church, and was reported to talk in an +irreverent manner, which made the Rector long to get hold of her for +five minutes. With his strong convictions, Maurice Evandale could not +bear to hear without protest of the insolent and almost profane sallies +of wit by which, to his mind, Sabina Meldreth dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>honored her Creator. +He had long resolved to speak to her on the subject when next she +visited Beechfield. Perhaps her mother's illness would have softened her +and would make the Rector's task less difficult—for it was not his +nature to love the administration of rebuke, although he held it to be +one of his essential duties, when occasion required.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meldreth was a respectable elderly woman, who kept a small shop for +cheap groceries and haberdashery in the village. She did not do much +business, but she lived in apparent comfort—probably, the neighbors +said, because she was helped by her daughter's earnings. And then Mrs. +Vane was unusually kind to her. Flossy did not interest herself much in +the welfare of her poorer neighbors, but to Mrs. Meldreth she certainly +showed peculiar favor. Many a gift of food and wine went from the Hall +across Mrs. Meldreth's threshold; and it was noticed that Mrs. Meldreth +was occasionally admitted to Mrs. Vane's own room for a private +conference with the lady of Beechfield Hall herself. But those who +commented wonderingly on that fact were reminded that Mrs. Meldreth +added to her occupations that of sick-nurse, and that she had been in +attendance on Mrs. Vane at the time of the young Squire's birth. It was +natural that Mrs. Vane should be on more intimate terms with her than +with any other of the village women.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meldreth was not an interesting person in the eyes of the world at +large. She was a sad, silent, dull-faced individual, with blank looking +eyes and a dreary mouth. There were anxious lines on her forehead and +hollows in her pale cheeks, such as her easy circumstances did not +account for. That she "enjoyed very poor health," according to the +dictum of her neighbors, was considered by them to be a sufficient +reason for Mrs. Meldreth's evident lack of peace of mind.</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale set off for his visit to the sick woman early in the +afternoon. He was hindered on his way to her house by meeting with +various of his friends of the humbler sort, whom he did not like to pass +without a word, and it was after three o'clock before he reached Mrs. +Meldreth's cottage. He entered the shop, which looked duller and more +uninviting than ever, and found that it was tenanted only by a girl of +thirteen—a girl whom he knew to be the stupidest in the whole of the +village school.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"Well, Polly Moss," he said good-naturedly, "are you taking care of the +shop?"</p> + +<p>Polly Moss, a girl whose mouth looked as if it would never close, beamed +at him with radiant satisfaction, and replied—</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—I'm minding the shop, sir. Did you want any groceries to-day, +please, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said the Rector, smiling. "I have come to see Mrs. +Meldreth, who, I hear, is ill."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Polly, in a tone of resigned affliction. "I thought +p'r'aps you was going to buy something, sir. I hain't sold anythink the +'ole afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Polly," said Mr. Evandale, "how often am I to tell you to say the +'whole' afternoon, not the ''ole'?" The unlucky man had even made war on +the natives' practice of leaving out their "h's"! "'Whole,' with an 'h,' +remember! Well, I will buy something—what shall it be?—a pound of tea +perhaps. Ah, yes! Two shillings a pound, isn't it? Pack it up and send +it to the Rectory to-night, Polly; and here are the two shillings to put +into the till. Now will you ask if I can see Mrs. Meldreth?"</p> + +<p>Polly's shining face suddenly fell.</p> + +<p>"I daren't leave the shop, sir," she said. "I left it this morning just +for a minute or two, and Miss Meldreth said she'd skin me alive if ever +I did so again. Would you mind, sir"—insinuatingly—"just a-going up +the stairs and knocking at the door atop o' them? They'll be glad to see +you, I'm sure, sir; and I daren't leave the shop for a single minute."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the Rector. He was used to entering sick-rooms, and +did not find Polly Moss' request very much out of the way. "I'll go up."</p> + +<p>He passed through the shop and ascended the stairs, with every step of +which he was familiar, as he had already visited Mrs. Meldreth during +one or two previous attacks of illness, and was heard to knock at the +sick woman's bed-room door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my," exclaimed Polly, as soon as he was out of reach, "and if I +didn't go for to forget to tell him as 'ow Miss Enid was up there! Oh, +my! But I don't suppose he'll mind! He's only the parson, after all."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>When Mr. Evandale knocked at Mrs. Meldreth's door, he was aware of a +slight bustle within, followed by the sound of voices in low-toned +conference; then came a rather sharply-toned "Come in!". As, however, +the Rector still hesitated, the door was flung open by a young woman, +whose very gestures seemed to show that she acted under protest, and +would not have admitted him at all if she had had her own way. She was a +fair-complexioned woman of perhaps thirty years of age, tall, well made, +robust, and generally considered handsome; she had prominent light-blue +eyes, and features which, without being badly cut, were indefinably +common and even coarse-looking. In her cheeks a patch of exceptionally +vivid red had so artificial an appearance, that the Rector could not +believe it to be genuine; but later he gained an impression that it +proceeded from excitement, and not from any adventitious source. The +eyes of this woman were sparkling with anger; there was defiance in her +every movement, even in the way in which her fingers were clenched at +her sides or clutched the iron rail of the bed on which her mother lay. +The Rector wondered at her evident disturbance; it must have proceeded +from something, that had occurred before his entrance, he concluded, and +he looked towards the bed as if to discover whether the cause of Sabina +Meldreth's anger could be found there.</p> + +<p>But no—surely not there! The Rector thought that he had seldom seen a +fairer picture than the one which met his eyes. Goodness, gentleness, +youth supporting age, beauty unabashed by feebleness and ugliness—these +were the characteristics of the scene on which he looked. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth lay back upon her pillows, her face wan and worn, her eyes +wandering, her gray hair escaping from her close cap and straying over +her forehead. But beside her knelt Enid Vane. The girl's arm was beneath +the old woman's bowed shoulders; it was evident that in this position +the invalid could breathe better and was more at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> ease. The sweet fair +face, with its slight indefinable shadow deepened at this moment into a +look of perfect pity, was bent over the wrinkled, withered countenance +of the sick woman. Never, the Rector thought, had he seen a lovelier +picture of youth ministering to the wants of age.</p> + +<p>But a sense of incongruity also struck him, and he turned rather quickly +to Miss Meldreth, whose defiant eyes had been fixed upon him from the +first moment of his entrance into the room.</p> + +<p>"You are Mrs. Meldreth's daughter?" he said, in a quick but not unkindly +undertone. "Why do you let the young lady there wait upon your mother? +Can you not nurse her yourself, my good girl?"</p> + +<p>Sabina Meldreth curtseyed, but in evident mockery, for the color in her +cheeks grew higher, and her tone was anything but respectful when she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can nurse my mother, sir, and of course a young lady like +Miss Vane didn't ought to put her finger to anything menial," she said, +with a sharpness which took the Rector a little by surprise. "I'm quite +well aware of the difference between us. And"—anger now evidently +gaining the upper hand—"if you'd tell Miss Vane to go, sir, I'd be +obliged to you, for she is only exciting mother, and doing her no good."</p> + +<p>"Your mother shows no symptoms of excitement," said the Rector quietly; +"and I must say, Miss Meldreth, that your words do not evince the +gratitude that I should have expected you to feel for the young lady's +kindness."</p> + +<p>"Kindness! Oh, kindness is all very well!" said Miss Meldreth, with an +angry toss of her fair head. "But I don't know what kindness there is in +disturbing my poor mother—reading hymns and psalms, and all that sort +of thing!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale had hitherto wondered whether or no Miss Vane heard a word +of Sabina Meldreth's acid utterances, but he had henceforward no room +for doubt. The girl raised her head a little and spoke in a low but +penetrating tone.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meldreth," she said, "excuse me, but you yourself are disturbing +your mother far more than I have done. See—she is beginning to be +restless again; she cannot bear loud talking or altercation."</p> + +<p>The Rector was astonished by the firmness of her tone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> She was so +graceful, so slight, so fragile-looking, that he had not credited her +with any great strength of character, in spite of his admiration for her +beauty. But what she said was perfectly true, and he hastened to lend +her his support.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," he said approvingly. "Mrs. Meldreth should be kept quiet, I +can see"—for the old woman had begun to moan and to move her head +restlessly from side to side when she heard her daughter's rasping +voice. "Perhaps you would step into another room with me, Miss Meldreth, +and tell me how this attack came on—if, at least, Miss Vane does not +mind being left with Mrs. Meldreth for a few minutes, or if she is not +tired."</p> + +<p>Enid answered with a faint sweet smile.</p> + +<p>"I am not tired," she said. "And poor nurse wants to speak to me when +she is able. She sent to tell me so. I can stay with her quite well."</p> + +<p>But the proposition seemed to excite Sabina Meldreth almost to fury.</p> + +<p>"If you think," she said, "that I am going to leave my mother alone with +anybody—gentleman or lady—you are mistaken. If you want her to be +quiet, leave her alone yourselves—she'll stay quiet enough if she's +left to me."</p> + +<p>"Sabina," said Enid, with a gentle dignity of tone which commanded the +Rector's admiration and respect, "you know that your mother wanted me to +come."</p> + +<p>"I know that she's off her head!" said Sabina angrily. "She doesn't know +what she says or what she wants. It's nonsense, all of it! And meaning +no disrespect to you, Miss Vane"—in a lower but sulkier tone—"if you +would but go away and leave her to me, she'd be all the better for it in +the end."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Enid, raising her hand—the serenity of her face was quite +undisturbed by Sabina's expostulation. "She is coming to herself +again—she is going to speak."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence in the room. The sick woman was lying +still; her eyes wandered and her lips moved, but as yet no articulate +sound issued from them. In apparently uncontrollable passion, Sabina +stamped violently and shook the rail of the iron bedstead with her +hands.</p> + +<p>"She ain't going to speak; she is off her head, I tell you! She ain't +got anything to say."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>The Rector looked at her steadily. For the first time it occurred to him +that the younger woman had some unworthy motive in her desire to silence +her mother and to get the listeners out of the room. Dislike of +interference, jealousy, and bad temper would not entirely account, he +thought, for her intense and angry agitation. Had Mrs. Meldreth and her +daughter some secret which the mother would gladly confess and the girl +was fain to hide?</p> + +<p>A feeble voice sounded from the bed.</p> + +<p>"Is it Miss Enid?" said Mrs. Meldreth. "Has she come?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Sabina boldly and loudly. "You go to sleep, mother, and don't +you bother about Miss Enid."</p> + +<p>"Miss Meldreth, how dare you try to deceive a dying woman?" said the +Rector, so sternly that even Sabina quailed a little before the deep low +tones of his voice. "Yes, Mrs. Meldreth, Miss Enid Vane is here, and you +can say all that you wish to say to her."</p> + +<p>"I am here, nurse," said Enid gently—she had always been in the habit +of addressing Mrs. Meldreth by that title. "Do you want me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dearie," said the old woman dreamily, "and have you come to me +after all? Sabina there, she tried to keep you away; but I had my will +at last. Polly told you that I wanted you, didn't she, Miss Enid dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, nurse, she told me."</p> + +<p>"I'll pay Polly Moss out for that!" Sabina was heard to mutter between +her closed teeth. But Enid took no notice of the words.</p> + +<p>"I'd something to say to you, my dearie," said Mrs. Meldreth, whose +voice, though feeble, was now perfectly distinct; "and 'dearie' I must +call you, although I haven't the right to do it now. I held you in my +arms, my dear, five minutes after you came into this here wicked world, +and I've allus looked on you as one o' my own babies, so to speak."</p> + +<p>The delicate color had flushed Enid's cheeks a little, but she answered +simply, "Yes, dear nurse;" and, leaning down, she kissed the old woman's +forehead.</p> + +<p>The caress moved the Rector strangely. His heart gave an odd bound, the +blood began to course more rapidly through his veins. He was a +clergyman, and he was in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> presence of a dying woman; but he was a +man for all that, and at the moment when Enid's pure lips were pressed +to her old nurse's brow, his whole being was stirred by a new emotion, +which as yet he did not suspect was known amongst men by the name of +love.</p> + +<p>Sabina Meldreth had withdrawn from her station at the foot of the bed; +she had moved softly to the side, and now stood by her mother's pillow, +opposite to Enid, with her eyes fixed watchfully, balefully, upon her +mother's face. But Mrs. Meldreth seemed unconscious of her daughter's +gaze.</p> + +<p>"I've something to say to you, my pretty," she said, with long pauses +between the sentences—longer and longer as the laboring breath became +more difficult and the task of speech more painful. "Sabina would nigh +kill me if she knew. But I can't die with this thing on my mind. If I've +wronged you and yours, and my own flesh and blood as well, I want to +make amends."</p> + +<p>"Is she—does she know what she is saying?" said Enid, raising her eyes +to the Rector's face, with a touch of doubt and alarm in their pensive +depths.</p> + +<p>Before Mr. Evandale could answer Sabina broke in wildly.</p> + +<p>"No, she don't—she don't know what she's saying; I told you so before! +She's got her head full of mad fancies; she's not responsible, and +you've no business to listen to her ravings. It ain't fair—it ain't +fair—it ain't fair!" She concluded with a sob of passion that broke, in +spite of her efforts to control herself, from her whitening lips, but +which brought no tears with it to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Control yourself," said the Rector gravely. "We shall make all +allowance for your mother's state of mind. But, if there is anything +that she ought to confess, any act of dishonesty or unfaithfulness while +she served Miss Vane's parents or uncle, then let her speak and humble +herself in the sight of God, in whose very presence she, like all of us, +will shortly stand."</p> + +<p>The Rector's solemn tones awed Sabina into momentary quiescence, and +reached even the dying woman's dulled ears.</p> + +<p>"It is the parson," she said feebly. "Yes, I'm glad he's here, and Miss +Enid too. I can't go into the Almighty's presence with a lie on my +lips—can I, parson? It would weigh me down—down—down to hell. I must +confess!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>"You've nothing to confess," said Sabina, almost fiercely; "lie still +and hold your tongue, mother! You'll only bring shame on us both; and +it's not true—not true!"</p> + +<p>"You know then that your mother has something on her mind? In God's name +be silent and let her speak!" said Mr. Evandale.</p> + +<p>Enid looked up at her with wondering pity. Indeed Sabina Meldreth +presented at that moment a strange and even tragic appearance. The hot +unnatural color had left her cheeks, her ashy lips were strained back +from her clenched teeth, her eyes were wide with an unspoken fear. +Whatever she might say or leave unsaid, neither of those two persons who +looked at her could doubt for another moment that Sabina Meldreth had a +secret—a guilty secret—weighing heavily upon her mind.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meldreth's weak voice once more broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"I never thought of its harming you, my dear," she said. "I thought you +was rich and would not want houses and lands. And, when Mrs. Vane that +now is came to me and said——"</p> + +<p>She did not achieve her sentence. Sabina Meldreth had flown like a +tigress at her mother's throat.</p> + +<p>But, fortunately for Mrs. Meldreth, a strong and resolute man was in the +room. He had already drawn nearer to Sabina, with a feeling that she was +not altogether to be trusted, and, as soon as she made her first savage +movement—so like that of a wild beast leaping on its prey—his hands +were upon her, his strong arms holding her back. For a minute there was +a frightful struggle. The Rector pinioned her arms; but she, with the +ferocity of an undisciplined nature, flung her head sideways and +fastened her teeth in his arm. Her strength and her agility were so +great that the Rector could not easily disengage himself; and, although +the cloth of his coat-sleeve prevented her attempt to bite from doing +any great injury, the assault was sufficiently painful and sufficiently +unexpected to protract the struggle longer than might have been +anticipated. For, as she was a woman, Maurice Evandale did not like to +resort to active violence, and it was with some difficulty that he at +last mastered her and placed her in a chair, where for a few minutes he +had to hold her until her struggles ceased and were succeeded by a burst +of convulsive sobs. Then he felt that he might relax his hold, she +ceased to be dangerous when she began to cry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>Enid had involuntarily withdrawn her arm from Mrs. Meldreth's shoulders, +and sprung to her feet with a low cry when she saw the struggle that was +taking place; but in a second or two she conquered her impulse to fly to +the Rector's aid, and with rare self-control bent once more over the +dying woman, who needed her help more than Mr. Evandale could. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth was almost unconscious of the disturbance. Her eyes were +glazing, her sight was growing feeble, the words that fell from her lips +were broken and disconnected. But still she spoke—still she went on +pouring her story into Enid's listening ears.</p> + +<p>When the Rector at last looked round, he saw an expression on Enid's +face which chilled him to the bone. It was a look of unutterable woe, of +grief, shame, agony, and profound astonishment. But there was no +incredulity. Whatever Mrs. Meldreth had told her Enid had believed. The +Rector made one step towards the bed.</p> + +<p>"If you have anything to confess, Mrs. Meldreth," he began; but Enid +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"She has confessed," said the girl, turning her face to him with a +strange look of mingled humiliation and compassion—"she has +confessed—and I—I have forgiven. Nurse, do you hear? God will forgive +you, and I forgive you too."</p> + +<p>"God will forgive," murmured the woman.</p> + +<p>A smile flickered over her pale face. Then a change came; the light in +her eyes went out, her jaw fell. A slight convulsion passed through her +whole frame, and she lay still—very still. The confession, great or +small, that she had made had been heard only by Enid and her God.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>"It is all over," said Maurice Evandale, looking gravely at the dead +woman's face. "It is all over, and may God have mercy upon her soul!"</p> + +<p>He left Sabina, who was sobbing hysterically as she sat huddled up in +the chair on which he had placed her, and came to Enid's side. She +turned to him with sorrowful appeal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>"Is she dead? Can nothing be done?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Come away, Miss Vane; this is no place for you. One moment! +Have you anything to say to this woman? Have you any charge to bring?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to Sabina as he spoke, and she, roused for an instant, raised +a mute terrified face from her hands, and seemed to shrink still lower +in her chair, as if she would willingly have hidden herself and her +secret, whatever it might be, out of sight of all the world. She +waited—waited—evidently with dread—for the accusation that she +expected from Enid's lips. The Rector waited also, but the accusation +did not come. There was a moment's utter silence in the chamber of +death.</p> + +<p>"Have you anything to say?" asked Maurice Evandale at last.</p> + +<p>Then Enid spoke.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, with quivering lips; "I can say nothing. I—I +forgave her—before she died;" and then she turned away and went swiftly +out of the room, leaving the others to follow or linger as they pleased.</p> + +<p>Sabina rose from her chair and stood as if dazed, stupefied by her +position. All her fierceness and defiance had left her; her face was +white, her eyes were downcast, her hands hung listlessly at her sides. +The Rector paused and spoke.</p> + +<p>"You hear what Miss Vane said?"</p> + +<p>She made no answer.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you or your mother may have done. Some secret guilt +evidently weighed upon her soul. Whatever it may be, she confessed her +guilt and received forgiveness. Sabina Meldreth, in the presence of your +dead mother and of your living God, I call upon you to do the same. If +you would find mercy in the hour of your own death, confess your sin, +whatever it may be, and you shall be forgiven."</p> + +<p>Still she stood silent and almost motionless, but her teeth gnawed at +her white lips as if to bite them through.</p> + +<p>"You will have no better time than the present," said the Rector. "If +there is anything that you feel should be confessed, confess it now. It +is God's voice calling to you, not mine. Your mother cleared her +conscience before she died, do you the same. I bid you in God's name."</p> + +<p>Maurice Evandale did not often speak after this fashion;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> he was no +fanatic, no bigot, but he believed intensely in the great eternal truths +which he preached, and in the presence of death—in the presence also, +as he believed, of mortal sin—he could not do less than appeal to what +was highest and best in the nature of the woman before him. What she had +to accuse herself of he could not possibly imagine; but he knew that +there was something. By the dead woman's incoherent words, by Sabina +Meldreth's violence, by Enid's stricken look of perplexity and pain, he +knew that something lay hidden which ought to be brought to light.</p> + +<p>The winter's day was drawing to a close. Through the uncurtained window +the light stole dimly, and the reddened coals in the tiny grate threw +but a feeble gleam into the room. In every corner shadows seemed to +cluster, and the dead woman's face looked horribly pale and ghastly in +the surrounding gloom. The Rector waited with a feeling that the moment +was unutterably solemn; that it was fraught with the destiny of a +suffering, sinning human being—for aught he knew, with the destinies of +more than one. Suddenly the woman before him threw up her hands as if to +shut out the sight of her dead mother's face.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to tell you—nothing!" she cried. "What business have +you here? You teased my mother out of her last few minutes of life, and +now you want to get the mastery over me! It's my house now, my room—not +my mother's—and you may go out of it."</p> + +<p>"Is that all you have to say," asked the Rector gravely—"even in her +presence, Sabina Meldreth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's all," she answered, the old fierceness creeping back into +her tones. "What else should I have to say? I suppose you can have me +taken up for assault; Miss Vane will bear witness in your favor fast +enough, no doubt. I don't care!"</p> + +<p>"Do you not care even when you think what I kept you back from?" said +Mr. Evandale. "Your mother was old, weak, dying, and you threw yourself +upon her with violence. You will remember that some day, and will bless +me perhaps because I withheld your hand. Your attack upon me matters +nothing. I am willing to believe that you did not know what you were +doing. I will leave you know—it is not seemly that we should discuss +this matter any further. But, if ever you want help or counsel—and the +day may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> come, my poor woman, when you may want both—then come to me."</p> + +<p>He opened the door, went out, and closed it behind him, leaving Sabina +Meldreth alone with the dead.</p> + +<p>He found two or three women down-stairs already; Enid Vane must have +told Polly, as she passed through the shop, that Mrs. Meldreth's end had +come. As soon as he had gone, two of them went up-stairs to perform the +necessary offices in the chamber of death. They found Sabina stretched +on the floor in a swoon, from which it was long before she recovered.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't ha' thought she had so much feeling in her," said one of +the women to the other, as they ministered to her wants.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Rector strode down the village street, straining his eyes +in the twilight, and glancing eagerly from side to side, in his endeavor +to discover what had become of Miss Vane. He knew that she had probably +never been out so late unattended in her life before; lonely as her +existence seemed to be, she was well cared for, anxiously guarded, and +surrounded by every possible protection. He had been surprised to find +her in Mrs. Meldreth's cottage so late in the afternoon. Only the +exigencies of the situation had prevented him from following her at once +when she left the house—only the stern conviction that he must not, for +the sake of Miss Vane's bodily safety and comfort, neglect Sabina +Meldreth's soul. But, when he felt that his duty in the cottage was +over, he sallied forth in search of Enid Vane. She had been wearing a +long fur-lined cloak, he remembered, and on her head a little fur toque +to match. The colors of both were dark; at a distance she could not be +easily distinguished by her dress. And she had at least three-quarters +of a mile to walk—through the village, down-hill by the lane, past the +fir plantation where her father had been found murdered, and a little +way along the high-road—before she would reach her own park gate. The +Rector, like all strong men, was very tender and pitiful to the weak. +The thought of her feeling nervous and frightened in the darkness of the +lane was terrible to him; he felt as if she ought to be guarded and +guided throughout life by the fearless and the strong.</p> + +<p>He walked down the street—it was a long straggling street such as often +forms the main thoroughfare of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> country village—but he saw nothing of +Enid. At the end of the street were some better-built houses, with +gardens; then came the Rectory and the church. He paused instinctively +at the churchyard gate. Surely he saw something moving amongst the tombs +over there by the railed-in plot of ground that marked the vault, in +which lay the mortal remains of Sydney and Marion Vane? Had she gone +there? Was it Enid's slender form that crouched beside the railings in +the attitude of helpless sorrow and despair?</p> + +<p>The Rector did not lose a moment in finding out. He threw open the gate, +dashed down the pathway, and was scarcely astonished to discover that +his fancy was correct. It was Enid Vane who had found her way to her +parents' grave, and had slipped down upon the frosted grass, half +kneeling, half lying against the iron rails.</p> + +<p>One glance, and Evandale's heart gave a leap of terror. Had she fainted, +or was she dead? It was no warm, conscious, breathing woman whom he had +found—it was a rigid image of death, as stiff, as sightless, as +inanimate as the corpse that he had left behind. He bent down over her, +felt her pulse, and examined the pupils of her eyes. He had had some +medical training before he came to Beechfield, and his knowledge of +physiological details told him that this was no common faint—that the +girl was suffering from some strange cataleptic or nervous seizure, for +which ordinary remedies would be of no avail.</p> + +<p>The Rectory garden opened into the churchyard. Maurice Evandale had not +a moment's hesitation in deciding what to do. He lifted the strangely +rigid, strangely heavy figure in his arms, and made his way along the +shadowy churchyard pathway to the garden gate. The great black yews +looked grim and ghostly as he left them behind and strode into his own +domain, where the flowers were all dead, and the leafless branches of +the fruit-trees waved their spectral arms above him as he passed. There +was something indefinably unhomelike and weird in the aspect of the most +familiar places in the winter twilight. But Maurice Evandale, by an +effort of his strong will, banished the fancies that came into his mind, +and fixed his thoughts entirely upon the girl he was carrying. How best +to restore her, what to do for her comfort and her welfare when she +awoke—these were the thoughts that engrossed his attention now.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>He did not go to the front-door. He went to a long window which opened +upon the garden, and walked straight into his own study. A bright fire +burned in the grate; a lamp was placed on the table, where books and +papers were heaped in true bachelor confusion. A low broad sofa occupied +one side of the room; the Rector deposited his burden upon it, and then +devoted himself seriously to the consideration of the case before him.</p> + +<p>Enid lay white, motionless, rigid, where he had placed her; her eyelids +were not quite closed, and the eyes were visible between the lids; her +lips were open, but the teeth were tightly closed; a slight froth showed +itself about her mouth.</p> + +<p>"It is no faint," the Rector said to himself. "It is a fit, a nervous +seizure of some sort. If she does not revive in a minute or two, I shall +send for Ingledew"—Ingledew was the village doctor—"and in the +meantime I'll act on my own responsibility."</p> + +<p>Certain reviving measures were tried by him, and apparently with +success. The bluish whiteness of the girl's face changed to a more +natural color, her teeth relaxed, her eyelids drooped. Evandale drew a +quick breath of relief when he saw the change. He was able to pour a few +drops of brandy down her throat, to chafe the unresisting hands, to +bathe the cold forehead with some hope of affording relief. He did all +as carefully and tenderly as if he had been a woman, and he did not seem +to wish for any other aid. Indeed he had locked the door when he first +came in, as if to guard against the chance of interruption.</p> + +<p>Presently he heard her sigh; then tears appeared on her lashes and stole +down her cheeks. Her limbs fell into their natural position, and she put +up her hand at last with a feeble, uncertain movement, as if to wipe +away her tears. Evandale drew back a little—almost out of her sight. He +did not want to startle her.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" she said, in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>"You are at the Rectory, Miss Vane," said Maurice Evandale quietly. "You +need not be at all alarmed; you may have heard that I am something of a +doctor, and, as I found that you did not seem well, I took the liberty +of bringing you here."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," she said softly, opening her blue eyes and looking +at him—without shyness, as he noticed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> but with a kind of wistful +trust which appealed to all the tenderness of his nature. "Did I faint?" +There was a slight emphasis on the last word.</p> + +<p>"You were unconscious for a time," said the Rector. "But I hope that you +feel better now."</p> + +<p>She gave him a curious look—whether of shame or of reproach he could +not tell—then buried her face in the pillows and began to cry quietly, +with her fingers before her eyes.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Vane, can I not do anything for you? I will call the +housekeeper," said the Rector, driven almost to desperation by the sight +of her tears. It was always very painful to him to see a woman cry.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she said, raising her head for a moment. "No—don't call any +one, please; I shall be better directly. I know what was the matter +now."</p> + +<p>She dried her eyes and tried to calm herself, while the Rector stood by +the table in the middle of the room, nervously turning over books and +pamphlets, and pretending not to see that she was crying still.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Evandale," she said at length, "I don't know how to thank you for +being so kind. I must tell you——"</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me anything that is painful to you, Miss Vane."</p> + +<p>"It will not be painful to tell you after your great kindness to me. +I—I am subject to these attacks. The doctors say that they do not +exactly understand the case, but they think that I shall outgrow them in +course of time. I have not had one for six months till to-night." She +burst into tears again.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear child,"—he could not help saying it—the words slipped +from his lips against his will—"there is nothing to be so troubled +about; a little faintness now and then—many people suffer from it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you do not understand!" she said quickly. "It is not faintness at +all. I am often quite conscious all the time. I remember now how you +found me and brought me here. I was not insensible all the time, but I +cannot move or speak when I am like that. It has been so ever +since—ever since my father died." She lowered her voice, as if she were +telling something that was terrible to her.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Evandale kindly—"it is an affection of the nerves, +which you will get over when you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> stronger. I hope that you do not +make a trouble of that?" His eyes looked steadily into hers, and he +noted with pain the strange shadow that crossed them as he gazed.</p> + +<p>"My uncle and his wife," she murmured, "will not let anybody know. They +are—they are ashamed of it, and of me. If I do not get better, they say +that I shall some day go out of my mind. Oh, it is terrible—terrible to +feel a doom of this sort hanging over one, and to know that nothing can +avert it! I had hoped that it was all over—that I should not have +another attack; but you see—you see that I hoped in vain! It is like a +black shadow always hanging over me, and nothing—nothing will ever take +it away!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>For a moment even the stout-hearted Rector was appalled. But Enid, +although she was watching him intently, could not read anything but +unfaltering sympathy and ready cheer in the glance that he gave her and +the words that rose almost immediately to his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Courage! Doctors are very often wrong," he said. "Besides, I do not see +why such an ending should be feared, even if there were any +constitutional tendency of the kind in your family, which there is not."</p> + +<p>"No," said Enid, less timidly than before; "I believe there is not. I +have asked."</p> + +<p>"Your attacks are only nervous, my dear Miss Vane. The very fact of your +having—foolishly, I think—been, told the doctor's theories has made it +less possible for you to strive against the malady; and yet you say that +it has not made progress lately. You have not been ill in this way for +six months?"</p> + +<p>"No, not for six months."</p> + +<p>"Don't you see that the excitement and fatigue of to-day's expedition, +and the sad scene which we have just witnessed, would be likely to +increase any ailment of the nervous system? You must not argue anything +from what has happened to-day. Forgive me," the Rector broke off to say, +with a smile—"I am talking like a doctor to you, and my medical skill +is small indeed. It is only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> large enough to enable me to assure you, +Miss Vane, of my conviction that your fears are ungrounded, and that you +are tormenting yourself to no purpose. Will you try to take my advice +and turn your thoughts away from this unhappy subject?"</p> + +<p>"I will try," answered Enid, with rather a bewildered look. "But," she +added a moment later, "I thought that I ought to be always on my guard; +and one cannot be on one's guard without thinking about the matter."</p> + +<p>"Who told you that you ought to be always on your guard?"</p> + +<p>"Flossy—I mean Mrs. Vane. She is very kind, and watches me constantly. +Oh, I forgot," said the girl, starting to her feet, and clasping her +hands before her with a look of wretched nervous terror which went to +the Rector's heart—"I forgot—I forgot——"</p> + +<p>"What did you forget?" said Evandale, wondering for a moment whether her +mind was not unhinged by all that she had passed through that afternoon. +Then, touched by her evident distress, he went on more lightly, "I have +been forgetting that you will be missed from the Hall by this time, and +that the whole country-side will be out after you if we do not go back +at once. I will send for a carriage and drive down with you, if you will +allow me."</p> + +<p>Enid sank back on the sofa and assented listlessly. Mr. Evandale left +the room, and sent in his absence a comfortable-looking old housekeeper +with wine and biscuits, offers of tea and coffee, and all sorts of +medicaments suitable to a young lady who had been faint and unwell—as +was only to be expected after witnessing the death of Mrs. Meldreth, +that troublesome old person having expired quite suddenly that afternoon +when Miss Vane and Mr. Evandale were both at her bedside. Enid was not +inclined to accept any of Mrs. Heale's attentions, but, out of sheer +dislike to hurting her feelings, she at last accepted a cup of tea, and +was glad of the reviving warmth which it brought to her cold and tired +limbs. And then Mr. Evandale returned.</p> + +<p>"There is no carriage at the inn," he said; "and I am sorry to say, Miss +Vane, that I do not possess one that would suit you—I have only a high +dog-cart and a kicking mare; so I have taken the liberty of sending down +to the Hall and telling Mrs. Vane that you are here; and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> will no +doubt send a carriage for you. I wrote a little note to her—it was the +best thing, I thought, that I could do."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Enid, almost inaudibly. Then she leaned back and closed her +eyes, looking as if she felt sick and faint.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heale glided away, in obedience to a nod from her master, and the +Rector was once more alone with Enid Vane.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he said, with a slight hesitation, which was rather graceful +in a man of his commanding stature and singular loftiness of bearing—"I +hope, Miss Vane, you will not think that I have been intrusive when I +tell you that I entreated Sabina Meldreth to confess anything that might +weigh upon her conscience, as her mother had confessed to you."</p> + +<p>A great wave of crimson suddenly passed over Enid's pallid cheeks and +brow. She raised a pair of startled eyes to the Rector's' face, and then +said quickly—</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Vane, she did not."</p> + +<p>"Then will you promise me," said Enid, with sudden earnestness, "never +to ask her again?"</p> + +<p>"How can I do that? It may be my duty to ask her for her soul's sake; +you would be the last to counsel me to be silent then."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you do not understand! I know now—I know what is weighing on +Sabina Meldreth's mind; and I have forgiven her."</p> + +<p>"It was a wrong done to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—to me."</p> + +<p>"And to no one else?" Enid's head drooped.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I can't tell. I must think it over."</p> + +<p>"Yes—think and pray," said the Rector gravely but tenderly; "and +remember that truth should always prevail."</p> + +<p>"I know—I believe it; but it would do more harm than good."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane, if I am indiscreet, I trust you will pardon me. If by any +chance this confession has reference to the death of your father, Mr. +Sydney Vane, it is your duty to make it known, at any cost to your own +feelings."</p> + +<p>The girl looked up with an expression of relief.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>"It does not bear on that subject at all, Mr. Evandale."</p> + +<p>"I am glad. You will forgive me for alluding to it? A wild fancy crossed +my mind that it had something to do with that."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget your kindness," said Enid gratefully.</p> + +<p>"And if you are in perplexity—in any trouble—will you trust me to do +all for you that is in my power? If you ever want help, you will +remember that I am ready—ready for all—all that you might require——"</p> + +<p>He never finished his speech, which was perhaps fortunate for him. With +Enid's soft eyes, slightly distressed and appealing in expression, +looking straight into his own, with the sight before him of her pale, +wistful face, the lovely lips which had fallen into so pathetic a curve +of weariness and sorrow, how could the Rector be expected to preserve +his self-possession? His thoughts and his words became confused; he did +not quite know what he was saying, nor whether she heard and understood +him aright. He was glad to remember afterwards that the expression of +her countenance did not change; he brought neither alarm nor +astonishment into her eyes; there were only gentle gratitude and a kind +of hopelessness, the meaning of which he could not fathom, in the girl's +still raised listening face. But at that very moment a knock came to the +door; and half to the Rector's relief, half to his embarrassment, the +General himself walked in.</p> + +<p>"Ah, thank Heaven, she is here!" were the old man's first words. "We +thought she was lost, Mr. Evandale—we did indeed. I met your messenger +on the way to the Hall, and sent him on for the carriage. A pretty time +you've given us, young lady!" he said, smiling at Enid and pinching her +chin, and then grasping the Rector's hand with a look of relief and +gratitude which told its own story.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane has been a good deal distressed and upset," said Mr. +Evandale. "She was at Mrs. Meldreth's bedside when the old woman died +this afternoon, and the scene was naturally very painful. I brought her +here that she might rest and recover herself a little before going +home."</p> + +<p>He wanted to explain and simplify matters for Enid's benefit; he had +grasped the fact that her uncle's entrance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> was making her exceedingly +nervous. He put it down to fear of the General's anger, but it +afterwards occurred to him that Mrs. Meldreth's confession might, for +some reason or other, be the cause of her agitation. Certainly her +distress and confusion were at that moment very marked. She had risen +from her seat at his entrance, her color changing to crimson and then to +dead white more than once during the Rector's speech. It settled at last +into a painful pallor, which so impressed the General that he did not +even administer the gentle rebuke which he had intended Enid to receive +for her infringement of the rules on which her life was based. He could +not scold her when she stood before him, pale to the very lips, her +eyelids cast down, her hands joined together and nervously trembling, a +very embodiment of conscious guilt and shame.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, she does look upset, and no mistake!" he exclaimed, in +his hearty and impulsive way. "Come, my dear—don't be so miserable +about it! I daresay you did not know how late it was, and the poor woman +could not be left. Yes, I quite understand; and I will explain it all to +your aunt. Sit down and rest until the carriage comes, as the Rector +does not mind our invasion of his study."</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale made some polite but slightly incoherent rejoinder, to +which nobody listened, for the General's attention was at that moment +completely monopolised by Enid, who on feeling his arm around her, +suddenly hid her white face on his shoulder and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, uncle," she sobbed, "you are so kind—so good! Forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive you, my dear? There is nothing to forgive!" said the astonished +General, in a slightly reproving tone. "Of course I do not like your +staying out so late on a winter afternoon, but you need not make such a +fuss about it, my child. You must control yourself, control yourself, +you know. There, there—don't cry! What will Mr. Evandale think of you? +Why, bless me, Evandale has gone! Well, well, you need not cry—I am not +angry at all—only stop crying—there's a good girl!"</p> + +<p>"Say you forgive me, uncle!" moaned Enid, heedless of his rather +disconnected remarks, which certainly had no bearing at all on the +dilemma forced upon her by the nature of Mrs. Meldreth's confession.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>"Forgive you, my dear? Why, of course I do! You're a little upset, are +you not? But you must not give way like this—it'll never do—never do," +said the General, patting her on the back benevolently. "There now—dry +your eyes, like a good girl; and I think I hear the carriage in the +lane, so we must be going. You've no idea how anxious about you poor +dear Flossy has been all the afternoon."</p> + +<p>He was pleased to see that her tears were checked. She raised herself +from his shoulder and brushed away the salt drops with which her cheeks +were wet; but she sobbed no longer, and she stood perfectly still and +calm. He was not a man of keen observation; and, if the cold white look +which suddenly overspread her countenance had any meaning, it was not +one that he was likely to read aright.</p> + +<p>A servant brought the intelligence that the carriage was at the door, +and shortly afterwards the Rector appeared. He had slipped away when +Enid burst into tears, hoping that she might confide to the General what +she had refused to confide to him; but a glance at the faces of the two +told him that his hopes had not been realised. The kindly complacency +which characterised the General's countenance was undisturbed, while +Enid's face bore the impress of mingled perplexity and despair. It +seemed to Maurice Evandale that each expression would have been changed +if Enid had bared her heart to her uncle. He did not know—he could not +even guess—what her secret was; but he instinctively detected the +presence of trouble, perhaps of danger.</p> + +<p>The two men parted very cordially; for the General was deterred from +seeing much of the Rector only by Mrs. Vane's dislike of him, and his +kindly feeling was all the more effusive because he had so few +opportunities of expressing it. Enid took leave of the Rector with a +look, a wan little smile which touched him inexpressibly.</p> + +<p>"You have part of my secret," it seemed to say. "Help me to bear the +burden; I am weak and need your aid." He vowed to himself that he would +do all that a man could do—all that she might ever ask. But Enid was +quite unconscious of having made that mute appeal.</p> + +<p>She lay back in a corner of the carriage, saying she was too tired to +talk. The General left her in peace, but took one of her little hands +and held it tenderly between his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> own. He could not imagine why it +trembled and fluttered so much, why once it seemed to try to drag itself +away. The poor girl must be quite overdone, he thought to himself; she +was far too kind, too tender-hearted to go about amongst the village +people and witness all their woes; she was not strong enough to do such +work—he must speak to Flossy about it. And, while he was thus thinking, +the carriage turned in at the park gates and presently halted at the +great front-door. The servants came forward to assist the General, who +was a little stiff in his joints now and then; and he, in his turn, gave +an arm to Enid as she alighted. The old butler looked at her curiously +as she entered and stood for a moment, dazed and bewildered, in the +hall. Miss Enid was always pale, but he had never seen her look so white +and scared. She must be ill, he decided, and especially when she shrank +so oddly as he deferentially mentioned his mistress' name.</p> + +<p>"My mistress hoped that you would come to her sitting room as soon as +you arrived, ma'am," he said.</p> + +<p>She made a strange answer.</p> + +<p>"No, no—I cannot—I cannot see her to-night!"</p> + +<p>The General was instantly at her side.</p> + +<p>"Enid, my dear, what do you mean? Your aunt wants to see you. She won't +be vexed with you—I'll make it all right with her," he added, in a +lower tone. "She has been terribly anxious about you. Come—I will take +you to her room."</p> + +<p>"Not just now, uncle—not to-night," said the girl, in a tone of mingled +pain and dread. "I—I can't bear it—I am ill—I must be alone now!"</p> + +<p>"My dear child, you must go to bed and rest. I'll explain it all to +Flossy. She will come to see you."</p> + +<p>"No, no—I can't see any one! Forgive me, uncle; I hardly know what I am +saying or doing. I shall be better to-morrow. Till then—till then at +least I must be left in peace!"</p> + +<p>She broke from his detaining hand with something so like violence, that +the General looked after her in wonder as she ran up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"She must be ill indeed!" he murmured thoughtfully to himself, as he +wended his way to his wife's boudoir, to make his report to Flossy.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Enid's progress up-stairs was barred for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> moment by her +little playmate and scholar, Dick, who ran out of his nursery to greet +her with a cry of joy. To his surprise and mortification, cousin Enid +did not stop to kiss him—did not even give him a pleasant word or +smile. With a stifled cry she disengaged her frock from his hand, +breaking from him as she had broken from the General just before, and +sped away to her own room. He heard her turn the key in her door, and, +for the first time realising the enormity of the woe that had come upon +him—the unprecedented fact that cousin Enid had been unkind—he lifted +up his voice and bursted into a storm of sobs, which would at any +ordinary time have brought her instantly to his side to comfort and +caress.</p> + +<p>But this time Enid either did not hear or did not heed. She was +crouching down by the side of her bed, with her face hidden in the +coverlet, and her hands pressed over her ears, as if to exclude all +sound of the world without; and between the difficult passionate sobs by +which her whole frame was shaken, one phrase escaped from her lips from +time to time—a phrase which would have been unintelligible enough to an +ordinary hearer, but would have recalled a long and shameful story to +the minds of Florence Vane and one other woman in the world.</p> + +<p>"Sabina Meldreth's child!" she muttered to herself not knowing what she +said. "How can I bear it? Oh, my poor uncle! Sabina Meldreth's child!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert Lepel had promised to spend Christmas Day at Beechfield, but for +some unexplained reason he stayed away, sending at the last moment a +telegram which his sister felt to be unsatisfactory. Flossy did not +often exert herself to obtain a guest; but on this occasion she wrote a +rather reproachful letter to her brother, and begged him not to fail to +visit them on New Year's eve. "The General was disappointed," she wrote, +"and so was someone else." Hubert thought that she meant herself, felt a +thrill of wondering compassion, and duly presented himself at the Hall +on the thirty-first of December.</p> + +<p>He saw Flossy alone in her luxurious boudoir before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> anyone else knew of +his arrival. He thought her looking ill and haggard, and asked after her +health. To his surprise, the question made her angry.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am not well—I am never well," she answered; "but I am no +worse than usual. There is someone else in the house whose appearance +you had better enquire after."</p> + +<p>"You are fond of talking in riddles. Do you mean the General?" said +Hubert drily.</p> + +<p>"No, not the General," Florence answered, setting her lips.</p> + +<p>Hubert shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. He had not an +idea of what she meant; but when, shortly before dinner, he first saw +Enid, a light flashed across his mind—Flossy meant that the girl was +ill. He had certainly been rather dense and rather unkind, he thought to +himself, not to ask after her. And how delicate she was looking! What +was the matter with her? It was not merely that she was thinner and +paler, but that an indefinable change had come over her countenance. The +shadow that had always lurked in her sweet eyes seemed to have fallen at +last over her whole face, darkening its innocent candor, obscuring its +tranquil beauty; the look of truthfulness and of ignorance of evil had +gone. No child-face was it now—rather that of a woman who had been +forced to look evil in the face, and was repelled and sickened at the +sight. There was no joy in the eyes with which Enid now looked upon the +world.</p> + +<p>Hubert watched her steadily through the long and elaborate meal which +the General thought appropriate to New Year's eve, noting her weariness, +her languor, her want of interest in anything that went on, and could +not understand the change. Was this girl—sick apparently in body and +mind—the guileless maiden who had listened with such flattering +attention to the stories of his wanderings in foreign lands, when he +last came down to Beechfield Hall? He tried her with similar tales—they +had no interest for her now. She was silent, <i>distraite</i>, preoccupied. +Still gentle and sweet to every one, she was no longer bright; smiles +seemed to be banished for ever from her lips.</p> + +<p>She and Florence scarcely spoke to each other. The General did not seem +to notice this fact; but Hubert had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> not been half an hour in their +company before he recognised its force. They must have quarrelled, he +said to himself rather angrily—Flossy had probably tried to tyrannise, +and the girl had resented her interference. Flossy was a fool; he would +speak to her about it as soon as he had the opportunity, and get the +truth from her—forgetting for the moment that, if ever a man set +himself an impossible task, it was this one of getting the truth from +Flossy.</p> + +<p>Before dinner was ended, the sound of footsteps, the tuning of +instruments; the clearing of voices could be distinguished in the hall. +Hubert glanced at his host for explanation, which was speedily given.</p> + +<p>"It is the village choir," he said confidentially. "They come on +Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, and sing in the hall. When they have +finished, they all have a glass of wine and drink our healths before +they go down to supper in the kitchen. It's an old custom."</p> + +<p>"And a very disagreeable one," said Mrs. Vane calmly. "Your ears will be +tortured, Hubert, by the atrocious noise they make. With your +permission, Enid and I will go to the drawing-room;" and, glancing at +Enid, she rose from her chair.</p> + +<p>"My dear Flossy, I entreat of you to stay!" said the General. "You have +never gone away before—it would hurt their feelings immensely. I have +sent word for Dick to be brought down; I mean them to drink his health +too, bless the little man! It will be quite a slight to us all if you go +away."</p> + +<p>Flossy smiled ironically, but she looked at Enid in what Hubert thought +a rather peculiar way. He knew his sister's face very well, and he could +not but fancy that there was some apprehension in the glance. Enid sat +still, looking at the tablecloth before her. Her face had grown +perceptibly paler, but she did not move. A little spot of red suddenly +showed itself on each of Mrs. Vane's delicate cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Well, Enid, what do you say?" she asked, with less languor of utterance +than usual. "Do you wish to suffer a purgatory of discord? Come—let us +go to the drawing-room; nobody will notice whether we are here or not."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I said I wished you to stay," began the General anxiously; but +Florence only laughed a little wildly, and beat her fan once or twice +upon the table.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>"Come, Enid. We have had music enough, surely! You are coming?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am going to stay here," said the girl, without raising her eyes. +Her tone was exceedingly cold.</p> + +<p>Flossy bit her lip, laughed again, and sank back into her chair with an +air of would-be indifference.</p> + +<p>"If you stay, I suppose I must," she said lightly; but there was a +strange glitter in her narrowed eyes, and she bit her lip with her +little white teeth so strongly and so sharply as to draw the blood.</p> + +<p>"Here comes Dick," said the General, whose placidity was quite restored +by his wife's consent to stay—"here he comes! There, my boy—seen Uncle +Hubert yet? Go and kiss him, and then come back to me and I'll give you +some dessert."</p> + +<p>The fair-haired little fellow looked smaller and shyer than Hubert +remembered him. He had very little color in his face, but his eyes +lighted up joyfully when he saw the visitor, and he put his arms around +Hubert's neck with such evident satisfaction that his uncle felt quite +flattered. But, when Dick was perched upon his father's knee, and the +singers had struck up their first florid chant, he was surprised to find +that Enid had raised her blue eyes and was steadily regarding him with a +searching yet sorrowful look, which seemed as if it would explore the +inmost recesses of his soul. For various reasons Hubert felt that he +could not long endure that gaze. The best way of stopping it was to +return it, and therefore, although with an effort which was almost +agonising, he suddenly looked back into her eyes with a composure and +resolute boldness which caused her own very speedily to sink. The color +rose to her face, she gave a slight quickly-suppressed sigh, and she did +not look up again. Puzzled, troubled, vaguely suspicious, Hubert +wondered whether his calm reception of her gaze had silenced the doubt +of him, which he was nearly sure that he read in those sad blue eyes. He +knew that Flossy was watching him and watching her, and he envied the +General his guileless enjoyment of all that was going on, and little +Dick's innocent pleasure in what was to him a great and unwonted treat.</p> + +<p>When two songs had been sung, with much growling of the bass and a +general misconception of the functions of a tenor, with great scraping +of violin strings and much want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> of harmony amongst the 'cellos, the +General called the butler and told him to open the door. The dining-room +had two wide folding-doors opening into the hall, and, when they were +flung open, a motley crowd of village faces could be seen. A row of +shrill-voiced chorister boys, much muffled up in red comforters, stood +foremost; behind them came the singing men and the performers on +instruments—a diverse little crowd of men and youths. In the +background, some six or eight singing women and girls presented a +half-bold, half-shy appearance, as knowing that they were there on +sufferance only, and that the Rector had been doing his best to prevent +their going out at nights to sing with the village choir. But the +General had "backed them up;" he did not like the discontinuance of old +customs, and was inclined to think the Rector unduly strict. Accordingly +they stood in their accustomed places, but, as most of them felt, +probably for the last time on New Year's Eve.</p> + +<p>The faces of men and women and children, with one exception, were +wreathed in smiles; but that one exception was notable indeed. Hubert, +with his trained powers of keen observation, observed a lowering face +directly. It was that of tall young woman neatly dressed in black—a +young woman with fair hair curled over her forehead and rather prominent +blue eyes—a coarse-looking girl, he thought, in spite of her pale +coloring and sombre garments. Her brows were drawn together over her +eyes in an angry frown; she was biting her lip, much as Flossy had been +doing, and there was not a gleam of good humor or pleasure in her eyes. +Hubert wondered idly why she had come, when she seemed to enjoy her +occupation so very little.</p> + +<p>The opening of the doors was the signal for a volley of clapping, +stamping, and shouting. When this was over, the butler and his helpers +appeared with trays of well-filled glasses, which were taken by the +members of the choir, down to the smallest child present, with great +alacrity. The fair woman in the background was once more an +exception—she took no wine.</p> + +<p>The General filled his own glass and signed for Hubert to do the same +for the ladies. He then stood up and prepared to make his usual New +Year's Eve speech. But this time he did what he had never done +before—he lifted his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> little son on to the chair on which he had been +sitting, and made his oration with one arm round little Dick's slender +shoulders. To Hubert it seemed a pretty sight. Why did it give no +pleasure to Florence and to Enid? Florence's eyes glittered, and a spot +of blood was painfully conspicuous on her white lips; but Enid, sitting +silent with downcast eyes, was now unusually flushed. A student of +character might have said that, while Flossy seemed merely excited, +Enid—the timid, delicate, pure-minded Enid—looked ashamed.</p> + +<p>"My dear friends," the General began, "I'm very much obliged to you for +coming, you know—very much obliged. So are my wife and my niece, and my +little boy here—so far as he understands anything about it—very much +obliged to you all. You know I ain't much of a speech-maker—'actions +speak louder than words' was always my maxim"—great cheering—"and I +take leave to say that I think it is a very good maxim too"—tremendous +applause. "My friends, it's the end of one year, and it will soon be the +beginning of another. Let's hope that the new year will be better than +the last. I don't suppose I shall have many more to spend amongst you, +and that is why I wish to introduce—so to speak—my little boy to you. +As my son and heir, my friends, he will one day stand in the place which +I now occupy, and speak to you perhaps as I am speaking now. I can only +ask you to behave as well to him as you have always behaved to me. I +trust that he will prove himself worthy of his name and of his race, and +that generations yet unborn will bless the day when Beechfield Hall came +into the hands of a younger Richard Vane. My friends, if you drink my +health to-night, I shall ask you also to drink the health of my boy—to +wish him happiness, and that he may prove a better landlord, a better +magistrate, and a better man than ever I have been."</p> + +<p>There was a tumult of applause, mingled with cries of "No, no!"—"Can't +be better than you have been, sir!" and "Hurrah for the General!"</p> + +<p>Hubert, smiling with pleasure at his host's genial tone, was amazed at +the gloom which sat upon the brows of three persons in the +room—Florence, Enid, and the woman in black. There was no other +likeness between them, but that air of reserve and gravity made them +look as if some incommunicable bond, some similarity of feeling or +experi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>ence, held them back from the general hilarity which surrounded +them.</p> + +<p>"A happy New Year to you all, my friends!" said the General, in his +hearty voice. "Here's to your good healths! There, Dick, my man—drink +too, and say, 'A happy New Year to all of you!'"</p> + +<p>Little Dick took a sip from his father's glass, and gravely uplifted his +childish treble.</p> + +<p>"A happy New Year to all of you!" he said; and men and women alike broke +out into delighted response.</p> + +<p>"Same to you, sir, and many of them!" "Bless his little heart," one of +the women was heard to murmur, "he's just the image of his mamma!" But, +if she thought to give pleasure by this remark, she was far from +successful. Mrs. Vane threw so angry a glance in her direction that the +woman shrank back aghast; and the girl in black, who stood in the +background, laughed between her teeth.</p> + +<p>The function was over at last. The choir trooped away to the servants' +premises, where a substantial supper awaited them; the General kissed +little Dick, and strode away with him to his nurse; and Mrs. Vane rose +from the table with an air of studied weariness and disgust.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven, that is over!" she said. "I am tired to death of this +senseless old practice! If we have it another year, I shall say I am ill +and go to bed. Come, Enid—let us go to the drawing-room and have some +music."</p> + +<p>The girl rose and followed obediently; but she vouchsafed no answer to +Mrs. Vane's remarks. As the General had disappeared, Hubert thought that +he too might as well accompany the ladies to the drawing-room, +especially if Enid were about to play. But it did not seem that she was +inclined to do so. She sat down in the darkest corner of the room, and +leaned her head upon her hand. Flossy established herself in a luxurious +lounging-chair, and took up a novel. Hubert hesitated for a moment or +two, then went over to Enid's side.</p> + +<p>"Are we not to have any music to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Have you not had plenty?" she asked wearily.</p> + +<p>"Music! You call that music?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer; something in her voice, her attitude, seemed to show +that she was shedding tears. He was intensely sorry for her trouble, +whatever it might be; but he scarcely knew how to comfort her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>"It would be good for us all if you would play," he said softly. "We +want consoling—strengthening—uplifting."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but music does not always do that!" she answered, with a new note +of passion in her voice. "When we are happy, music helps us—but not +when we are sad."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said Hubert, more from the desire to make her talk than from +any wish to hear her views on that particular subject.</p> + +<p>But she spoke eagerly in reply, yet softly, so that her words should not +reach the ears of the silent, graceful, languid woman by the fire.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell why," she said; "but everything is different. Once music +delighted me, even when I was a little sad; but now it seems to harrow +my very soul. It brings thoughts into my mind of all the misery of the +world. If I hear music, I shed tears—I don't know why. Everything is +changed."</p> + +<p>"My dear child," said Hubert, "you are unhappy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said slowly, with a pathetic tremor of the voice—"yes, I am +very—very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Can I do nothing at all to make you happier?" he said.</p> + +<p>The question was left unanswered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>"My dear Hubert," said Mrs. Vane, "if you cannot see what is the matter +with Enid, you must be blind indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Why should I see what is the matter with her more than anybody else?" +asked Hubert, who was moving restlessly from place to place, now halting +before the window of his sister's sitting-room, now plucking a leaf from +one of the flowering plants in a gilded <i>étagère</i>, now teasing the white +cockatoo in its fine cage, or stirring up the spaniel with the tip of +his boot. All the teasing was good-naturedly done, and provoked no +rancour in the mind of bird or beast; but it showed an unwonted +excitement of feeling on his part, and was observed by his sister with a +slightly ironical smile.</p> + +<p>"If you will sit still for a little while, I will tell you perhaps," she +said; "but, so long as you stray round the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> room in that aimless manner, +I shall keep my communications to myself."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon; I did not know that I was disturbing you. Well," +said Hubert, seating himself resolutely in a chair near her own, and +devoting his attention apparently to the dissection of a spray of +scented geranium-leaf, "tell me what is the matter, and I will listen +discreetly. I am really concerned about Enid; she is neither well nor +happy."</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you so?"</p> + +<p>"It is easy to be seen that she is not well," said Hubert, a very slight +smile curving his lips under the heavy dark moustache as he looked down +at the leaf which he was twisting in his hand; "and I think her +unhappiness is quite as obvious. What is it, Flossy? You ought to know. +You are the girl's chaperon, adviser, friend, or whatever you like to +call it; you stand in the place——"</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly. He forgot sometimes that ghastly story of his +sister's earlier life; sometimes it came back to him with hideous +distinctness. At that moment he did not like to say to Flossy, "You +stand in her mother's place." And yet it was the truth. Had it been for +Enid's good or harm, he suddenly wondered, that Florence had become the +General's wife?</p> + +<p>"I understand what you mean," said Flossy quite sweetly, though there +was no very amiable look in her velvety-brown eyes. "I assure you that I +should be very glad to make more of a friend of Enid if she would allow +me; but she does not like me."</p> + +<p>"Instinct!" thought Hubert involuntarily, but he did not say it aloud. +With the extraordinary quickness, however, which Florence occasionally +showed, she divined the purport of his reflection almost at once.</p> + +<p>"You think, no doubt, that it is natural," she said; "but I do not agree +with you. Enid has no great penetration; she has never been able to read +my character—which, after all, is not so bad as you imagine."</p> + +<p>"I do not imagine anything about it; I do not think it bad," Hubert +interposed rather hurriedly. "You have changed very much. But have we +not agreed to let old histories alone?"</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to revive them. I meant only to assure you that Enid +has met with the tenderest care and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> guidance from me—as far, at least, +as it lay in me to give it to her, and whenever she would accept it."</p> + +<p>"You make two very important reservations."</p> + +<p>"I know I do, but I cannot help it. I was never devotedly fond of +children, and I was once Enid's governess. I do not think that she ever +forgets that fact."</p> + +<p>"Well, come to the point," said Hubert, rather impatiently. "What is the +matter with her now?"</p> + +<p>Florence laughed softly, and eyed him over her fan. She always used a +fan, even in the depth of winter—and indeed her boudoir was so +luxuriously warm and fragrant that it did not there seem out of place. +She was wearing a loose tea-gown of peacock-blue plush over a satin +petticoat of the palest rose-color—a daring combination which she had +managed to harmonise extremely well—and the fan which she now held to +her mouth was of pale rose-colored feathers. As Hubert looked at her and +waited for his answer, he was struck by two things—first by the +choiceness and beauty of her surroundings, and secondly by the fatigued +expression of her eyes, which were set in hollows of purple shadows, and +almost veiled by lids which had the faintly reddened tint which comes of +wakefulness at night.</p> + +<p>"I shall next ask what is the matter with you," he said. "You really do +not look well, Florence!"</p> + +<p>"Do I not?" She laid down her fan, took up a hand-glass set in silver +from a table at her side, and studied her face in the mirror for a few +seconds with some intentness. "You are right," she said, when she put it +down; "I am growing hatefully old and haggard and ugly. What can one do? +Would a winter in the South give me back my good looks, do you think? +Perhaps I had better consult a doctor when I go up to town. I am not so +old yet that I need lose all my 'beauty,' as people used to call it, am +I?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you care so much?" Hubert asked. He fancied that there was +something deeper in her anxiety than the mere vanity of a pretty woman +whose youth was fast fleeting away.</p> + +<p>"Why does every woman care? For my husband's sake, of course," she +answered, with a slight laugh, but a look of carking care and pain in +her haggard eyes. "If I leave off looking pretty and bright, how am I to +know that he will care for me any longer? And, if not——"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>"If not! You are a mystery to me, Florence; you never professed before +to trouble yourself about your husband's love."</p> + +<p>"If I am a mystery, you are a perfect baby, my dear boy—I might almost +say a perfect fool—in some respects. If he ceases to love me, he—don't +you know that he may still leave me penniless? I had no settlements."</p> + +<p>Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she said the words.</p> + +<p>"Is that it?" said Hubert coldly. "I did not give you credit for so much +worldly wisdom, Flossy. If that is your view of the case, I wonder that +you do not pay a little more attention to the General's wishes +sometimes. I have seen you treat him with very little consideration."</p> + +<p>"He is so wearisome! One cannot always be on one's good behavior," +Flossy murmured; "and, as long as one looks nice and gives him a word or +two now and then, just to keep him in good-humor——"</p> + +<p>"So long, you think, he will be kind to you? Florence, you do not +understand the General's really noble nature. He is incapable of +unkindness to any living soul—least of all capable of it to you, whom +he loves so dearly. Do try to appreciate him a little more! He is +devoted to you, both as his wife and as the mother of his child." He +could not tell why she turned her head aside with a sharp gesture of +annoyance.</p> + +<p>"The child—always the child!" she exclaimed. "I wish I had never had a +child at all!"</p> + +<p>"We are straying from the point," said her brother coldly; "and we can +do no good by discussing your relations with your husband. I want to +know—as you say you can tell me—why Enid looks so ill."</p> + +<p>Flossy took up her fan and began to examine the tips of the feathers.</p> + +<p>"There is only one reason," she said slowly, "why a girl ever looks like +that. Only one thing turns a girl of seventeen into a drooping, +die-away, lackadaisical creature, such as Enid is just now."</p> + +<p>"Speak kindly of her, at any rate," said Hubert. "She is a woman like +yourself, and there is only one interpretation to be put upon your +words."</p> + +<p>"Naturally. You, as a novelist, dramatist, and poet, must know it well +enough," said his sister calmly. "Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> remember that you have insisted +on my telling you. Enid is in love. That is all. Nothing to make such a +fuss about it, is it?"</p> + +<p>Hubert was silent for a minute or two. His brow was contracted, as if +with vexation or deep thought. Then he said abruptly—</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's that good-looking parson in the village. There's no +other man whom she seems to know so well. I cannot say that you have +taken very great care of her, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Are you really blind, or are you pretending?" said Mrs. Vane, looking +at him with calm curiosity, "You are not quite such a fool as you make +yourself out to be, are you? My dear Hubert, are you not aware that you +are a singularly handsome and attractive man, and that you have laid +siege to the poor child's heart ever since your first arrival here last +autumn?"</p> + +<p>Hubert started from his seat as if he had been stung.</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Not at all impossible. She has seen few men in her short life—she has +been very carefully guarded, in spite of your sneer at my want of +caution—and the attentions of a man like yourself were quite new to +her. What could you expect?"</p> + +<p>"Attentions!" groaned Hubert. "I never paid her any attentions, save as +a cousin and a friend."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; but she did not understand."</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. He stood with his arm on the mantelpiece, +looking through the window at the snow-covered landscape outside. His +face had turned pale, and his lips were firmly set. Presently he said, +in a low tone—</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken. Surely she can never have let you know what her +feelings are on such a point? You say that she does not confide in you. +How can you know?"</p> + +<p>"There are other ways of reading a girl's heart as well as a man's +coarse way of having everything in black and white," said Flossy +composedly. "I am sure of it. She is in love with you, and that is why +she looks so ill."</p> + +<p>"It must not be! You must let her know—gently, but decidedly—that I am +not the man for her—that there is an unsurmountable barrier between +us."</p> + +<p>"What is it? Are you married already?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>"Florence"—there was a sound of anguish in his voice, "how could I +marry a girl whose father I——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush! For mercy's sake, be quiet! You should never say such +things—never think them even. Walls have ears sometimes, and spoken +words cannot be recalled. Never say that, even to me. At the same time, +I do not see the obstacle."</p> + +<p>"Florence! Well, I might expect it from you. You have married Sydney +Vane's brother!"</p> + +<p>She did not wince. She sat steadily regarding him over the tips of her +rose-colored feather fan.</p> + +<p>"And you," she said, "will marry Sydney Vane's daughter."</p> + +<p>"God keep me from committing such a sin!"</p> + +<p>"Hubert, this is mere sentimental folly," said his sister, with some +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"We have both made up our minds that the past is dead—why do you at +every moment rake up its ashes?"</p> + +<p>"It is in some ways unfortunate that Enid should have chosen to love +you; but, as the matter stands, I cannot see that you have any other +choice than to marry her."</p> + +<p>"What on earth makes you say so?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that you would go through a good deal of unpleasantness for +the sake of saving her from trouble. You have said as much."</p> + +<p>"I have no right to save her from anything. She must forget me."</p> + +<p>"That is sheer nonsense—cowardly nonsense too!" said Mrs. Vane. "If +Enid were on the brink of a precipice, would you hesitate to draw her +back? I tell you that she is breaking her heart for you, and that, if +you are free to marry, and not inordinately selfish, your only way out +of the difficulty is to marry her."</p> + +<p>"She would get over it."</p> + +<p>"No; she would die as her mother died—of a broken heart."</p> + +<p>"You can speak so calmly, remembering who killed her mother—for what +you and I are responsible!"</p> + +<p>"Look, Hubert—if you cannot speak calmly yourself, you had better not +speak at all. You seem to think that I am cold and callous. I suppose I +am; and yet I am more anxious in this matter to keep Enid from grief and +pain than you seem to be. I do not like to see her looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> pale and +sad. I would do anything within my power to help her, and I thought—I +thought that you would do the same. It seems that you shrink from the +task."</p> + +<p>"It is so horrible—so unnatural! How can I ask her to be mine—I, with +my hands stained——"</p> + +<p>"Hush! I will not have you say those words! We both know—if we are to +speak of the past—that it was an honorable contest enough—a fair +fight—a meeting such as no man of honor could refuse. You would have +fallen if he had not. It is purely morbid, this brooding over the +consequences of your actions. Everybody who knew the circumstances would +have said that you were in the right. I say it myself, although at my +own cost. To marry Enid now because she loves you will be the only way +you can take to repair the harm that was done in the past and to shield +her for the future."</p> + +<p>It was not often that Florence spoke so long or so energetically; and +Hubert, in spite of his revolt of feeling at the prospect held out to +him, was impressed by her words. After a few moments' silence, he sat +down again and began to argue the matter with her from every possible +point of view. He told her it was probable that Enid did not know her +own mind; that she would be miserable if she married a man who could not +love her; that the whole world would cry shame on him if it ever learned +the circumstances of her father's death; that Enid herself would be the +first to reproach him, and would indeed bitterly hate him if she ever +knew.</p> + +<p>"If she ever knew—if the world ever knew!" said Florence scornfully. +Hitherto she had been very quiet and let her brother say his say. "As if +she or the world were ever going to know! There is no way in which the +truth can be known unless one of us tells it; and I ask you, is that a +thing that either of us is very likely to do? It would mean social ruin +for us—utter and irretrievable ruin! If we only hold our tongues, Enid +and the world will never know."</p> + +<p>"That is true," he answered moodily; and then he sat so long in one +position, with his arms crossed on his breast; and his eyes fixed on +vacancy, that Florence asked him with some curiosity of what he was +thinking.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering," he said, "whether that poor wretch Westwood found his +undeserved punishment more galling than I sometimes find the bonds of +secrecy and falsehood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> and dishonor that bind me now. He at any rate has +gained his freedom; but I am in bondage still. I have my sentence—a +life sentence—to work out."</p> + +<p>"He is free now, certainly," Florence answered, with an odd intonation +of her voice; "so I do not think that you need trouble yourself about +him. Think of Enid rather, and of her needs."</p> + +<p>"Free? Yes—he is dead," said Hubert quickly, replying to something in +her tone rather than to her words. "He died as I told you—some time +ago."</p> + +<p>"You read it in the newspaper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you never saw that next day the report of his death was +contradicted?"</p> + +<p>"Florence, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You went away from England just then with a mind at ease, did you not? +But I was here, with nothing to do but to think and brood and read; and +I read more than that. There were two men named Westwood at Portland, +and the one who died—as was stated in next day's paper—was not the one +we knew."</p> + +<p>"And he is in prison all this time? Don't you see that that makes my +guilt the worse—brings back all the intolerable burden, renders it +simply impossible that I should ever make an innocent girl happy?" His +voice was hoarse, and the veins upon his forehead stood out like knotted +cords.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said Flossy calmly, "and listen to me. I have an odd story +to tell you. The man of whom we speak managed to do what scarcely +another convict has done in recent times—he escaped. He nearly killed +the warder in his flight, but not quite—so that counts for nothing. It +is rumored that he reached America, where he is living contentedly in +the backwoods. I can show you the newspaper account of his escape. I +thought," she added a little cynically, "that it might relieve your mind +to hear of it; but it does not seem to do so. I fancied that you would +be glad. Would you rather that he were dead?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; Heaven knows that I rejoice in his escape!" cried her brother, +sitting down again with his forehead bowed upon his clasped hands and +his elbows on his knees. "I have blood-guiltiness enough already upon my +soul. Glad? I am so glad, Florence, that I can almost dare to thank God +that Westwood is alive and has escaped. I—I shall never escape!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>Enid had the look of a veritable snow-queen thought Hubert, as he came +upon her a day or two later in a little <i>salon</i> opening out of the +drawing-room, and found her gazing out upon a landscape of which all the +lines were blurred in falling snow. She was dressed in a white woollen +gown, which was confined at her waist by a simple white ribbon, and had +white fur at the throat and wrists.</p> + +<p>The dead-white suited her delicate complexion and golden hair; she had +the soft and stainless look of a newly fallen snowflake, which to touch +were to destroy. Hubert almost felt as if he ought not to speak to one +so far removed from him—one set so high above him by her innocence and +purity. And yet he was bound to speak.</p> + +<p>"You like the snow?" he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes—as much as I like anything."</p> + +<p>"At your age," said Hubert slowly, "you should like everything."</p> + +<p>"You think I am so very young!"</p> + +<p>"Well—seventeen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I don't feel young at all!" the girl said half wearily, half +bitterly. "I seem to have lived centuries! You know, cousin Hubert, +there are very few girls of my age who have had all the trouble that I +have had."</p> + +<p>"You have had a great deal—you have been the victim of a tragedy," said +Hubert gloomily, not able to deny the truth of her remark, even while he +was forced to remember that many other girls of Enid's age had far more +real and tangible sorrows than she. The vision of a girl pleading with +him to find her work flashed suddenly across his mind; her words about +London Bridge—"her last resource"—occurred to him; and his common +sense told him that after all Enid's position, sad and lonely though it +was, could scarcely be called so pitiable as that of Cynthia West. But +it was not his part to tell her so; his own share in producing Enid's +misfortunes sealed his lips.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>What he said however was almost too direct an allusion to the past to be +thought sympathetic by Enid. A very natural habit had grown up at +Beechfield Hall of never mentioning her father's fate; and this silence +had had the bad result of making her brood over the matter without +daring to reveal her thoughts. The word "tragedy" seemed to her almost +like a profanation. It sent the hot blood rushing into her face at once. +Enid's organisation was peculiarly delicate and sensitive; her knowledge +of the publicity given to the details of her father's death was torture +to her. She was glad of the seclusion in which the General lived, +because when she went into Whitminster, she would hear sometimes a +rumor, a whispered word—"Look—that is the daughter of Sydney Vane who +was murdered a few years ago! Extraordinary case—don't you remember +it?"—and the consciousness that these words might be spoken was +unbearable to her. Hubert had touched an open wound somewhat too +roughly.</p> + +<p>He saw his mistake.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me for speaking of it," he said. "I fancied that you were +thinking of the past."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no—not of that!" cried Enid, scarcely knowing what she said.</p> + +<p>"Of other troubles?" Hubert queried very softly. It was natural that he +should think of what Flossy had said to him quite recently.</p> + +<p>"Yes—of other things."</p> + +<p>"Can you not tell me what they are?" he said gently, taking one of her +slight hands in his own.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—not you!"</p> + +<p>She was thinking of him as Florence's brother, possibly even as +Florence's accomplice in a crime; but he attributed her refusal to a +very different motive. Tell him her troubles? Of course she could not do +so, poor child, when her troubles came from love of him. He was not a +coxcomb, but he believed what Flossy had said.</p> + +<p>"Not me? You cannot tell me?" he said, drawing her away from the cold +uncurtained windows with his hand still on hers. "And can I do nothing +to lighten your trouble, dear?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I—don't—know."</p> + +<p>"Enid, tell me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>"Oh, no!" she cried. "I can't tell you—I can't tell any one—I must +bear it all alone!"—and then she burst into tears, not into noisy sobs, +but into a nearly silent passion of grief which went to the very heart +of the man who stood at her side. She drew her hand away from his and +laid it upon the mantelpiece, which she crept to and leaned against, +sobbing miserably meanwhile, as if she needed the support that solid +stone could give.</p> + +<p>Her slender figure, in its closely-fitting white gown, shook from head +to foot. It was as much as Hubert could do to restrain himself from +putting his arm round it, drawing it closely to him, and silencing the +sobs with kisses. But his feeling was that of a grown-up person to a +child whom he wanted to comfort and protect, not that of a man to the +woman whom he loved. He waited therefore silently, with a fixed look of +mingled pain and determination upon his face, until she had grown a +little calmer. When at last her figure ceased to vibrate with sobs, he +came closer and put his hand caressingly upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Enid," he said, "I have asked you before if I could make you happier; +you never answered the question. Will you tell me now?"</p> + +<p>She raised herself from her drooping attitude, and stood with averted +face; but still she did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you hardly know what I mean. I am willing—anxious—to give my +whole life to you, Enid, my child. If you can trust yourself to my +hands, I will take such care of you that you shall never know trouble or +sorrow again, if care can avert it. Give me the right to do this for +you, dear. You shall not have cause to repent your trust. Look at me, +Enid, and tell me that you trust me."</p> + +<p>Why that insistence on the word "trust"? Was it—strange +contradiction—because he felt himself so utterly unworthy of her +confidence? He said not a word of love.</p> + +<p>Enid looked round at him at last. Her gentle face was pale, her lashes +were wet with tears, but the traces of emotion were not unbecoming to +her. Even to Hubert's cold eyes, cold and critical in spite of himself, +she was lovelier than ever.</p> + +<p>"I want to trust you—I do trust you," she said; but there were trouble +and perplexity in her voice. "I don't know what to do. You would not let +me be deceived,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> Hubert? You would not let dear uncle be tricked and +cheated into thinking—thinking—by Flossy, I mean——Oh, I can't tell +you! If you knew what I know, you would understand."</p> + +<p>Hubert had never been in greater danger of betraying his own secret. +Knowing of no other, his first instinctive thought was that Enid had +learnt the true story of her father's death and Flossy's share in +bringing it about; but a second thought, quickly following the first, +showed him that in that case she would never have said that she wanted +to trust him, or that he would not let her and her uncle be deceived. +No, it could not be that. But what was it?</p> + +<p>By a terrible effort he kept himself from visibly blenching at her +words. He stood still holding her hands, feeling himself a villain to +the very lowest depths of his soul, but looking quietly down at her, +with even a slight smile on the lips that—do what he would—had turned +pale—the ruddy firelight glancing on his face prevented this change of +color from being seen.</p> + +<p>"But how can I understand," he said, "when I have not the slightest +notion of what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You have not?"</p> + +<p>"Not the least in the world."</p> + +<p>She crept a little closer to him.</p> + +<p>"You are not sheltering Flossy from punishment?"</p> + +<p>It was what he had been doing for the past eight years.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, Enid," he cried, losing his self-possession a little for +the first time, "what on earth can you possibly mean?"</p> + +<p>She thought that he was indignant, and she hastened tremblingly to +appease his apparent wrath.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to accuse you or her," she said; "I have said a great deal +too much. I can trust you, Hubert—oh, I am sure I can! Forgive me for +the moment's doubt."</p> + +<p>"If you have not accused me, you have accused my sister. I must know +what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, cousin Hubert! I can't tell you—even you."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Enid, if you said so much, you must say more."</p> + +<p>"I will never say anything again!" she said, her face quivering all over +like that of a troubled child.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>He loosed her hands and looked at her steadily for a moment; he had more +confidence in his power over her now.</p> + +<p>"I think you should make me understand what you mean, dear. Do you +accuse my sister of anything?"</p> + +<p>She looked frightened.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed I do not. I don't know what I am saying, Hubert. Tell me one +thing. Do you think we should ever do wrong—or what seems to be +wrong—for the sake of other people's happiness? Clergymen and good +people say we should not; but I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Enid, you have not been consulting that parson at Beechfield about it?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. At least"—the ingenuous face changed a little—"we talked +on that subject, because he knew that I was in trouble, but I did not +tell him anything. He said one should always tell the truth at any +cost."</p> + +<p>"And theoretically one should do so," said Hubert, trying to soothe her, +yet feeling himself a corrupter of her innocent candor of mind as he +went on; "but practically it would not be always wise or right. When you +marry, Enid"—he drew her towards him—"you can confess to your husband, +and he will absolve you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that is what would be best," she answered softly.</p> + +<p>"To no man but your husband, Enid."</p> + +<p>She drew a quick little sigh.</p> + +<p>"You can trust me?" he said, in a still lower voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said—"I am sure I can trust you! It was only for a +moment—you must not mind what I said. You will it set all right when +you know."</p> + +<p>He was silent, seeing that she had grasped his meaning more quickly than +he had anticipated, and had, in fact, accepted him, quite simply and +confidently, as her husband that was to be. Her child-like trust was at +that moment very bitter to him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead +as a father might have done.</p> + +<p>"My dear Enid," he said, "we must remember that you are very young. I +feel that I may be taking advantage of your inexperience—as if some day +you might reproach me for it."</p> + +<p>"I told you I did not feel young," she said gently; "but perhaps I +cannot judge. Do what you please."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>The listlessness in her voice almost angered Hubert.</p> + +<p>"Do you not love me then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—I always loved you!" said the girl. But there was no look of a +woman's love in her grave eyes. "You were always so kind to me, dear +cousin Hubert; and indeed I feel as if I could trust you absolutely. You +shall decide for me in everything."</p> + +<p>There was certainly relief in her tone; but Hubert had looked for +something more.</p> + +<p>"I have been wanting to speak to you for several days," he said, "but I +have never had the opportunity before; and I must tell you, dear, that I +spoke to the General before I spoke to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Enid's fair face flushed a little. "I thought—I did not know that +you intended—when you began to speak to me first, I mean——"</p> + +<p>Hubert could not help smiling.</p> + +<p>"I understand; you thought I spoke on a sudden impulse of affection, +longing to comfort and help you. So I did. But that is not incompatible +with previous thought and preparation, is it? Surely my care for you—my +love for you—would be worth less as a sudden growth than as a plant of +long and hardy growth?" He groaned inwardly at the subterfuge contained +in the last few words, but he felt that it was unavoidable.</p> + +<p>Enid looked up and gave him an answering smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I see!" she said hurriedly; but there was some little +dissatisfaction in her mind, she did not quite know why.</p> + +<p>Even her innocent heart dimly discerned the fact that Hubert was not her +ideal lover. His wooing had scarcely been ardent in tone; and to find +that it had all been discussed, mapped out, as it were, and formally +permitted by the General, and perhaps by his wife, gave her a sudden +chill. For Flossy's interpretation of Enid's melancholy was by no means +a true one. She had dreamed a little of Hubert in a vague romantic way, +as young girls are apt to do when a new-comer strikes their fancy; but +she had not set her heart upon him at all in the way which Florence had +led her brother to believe. There was certainly danger lest she should +do so now.</p> + +<p>"The General says," Hubert went on more lightly, "that you cannot be +expected to know your own mind for a couple of years. What do you say to +that?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>"I think that uncle Richard might know me better," said the girl, +smiling. She was still standing on the hearthrug, and Hubert put his arm +round her as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"And he will not consent even to an engagement until you are eighteen, +Enid. But he did not forbid me to speak to you and ask you whether you +cared for me, and if you would wait two years."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why should it be so long?" the girl cried out; and then she turned +crimson, seeing the meaning that Hubert attached to her words. "I only +mean," she said, "that I wanted to tell you everything that was in my +mind just now."</p> + +<p>"And can't you do it now, little darling?"</p> + +<p>"No, not now."</p> + +<p>"I must wait for that, must I? We must see if we can soften the +General's obdurate heart, my dear. But you are not unhappy now?"</p> + +<p>To his surprise, the shadow rose again in her beautiful eyes, the lips +fell into their old mournful lines.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said sadly. "I ought not to be; but after all +perhaps this does not make things any better. Oh, I wish I could forget +what I know—what I have heard!"</p> + +<p>"It is about Flossy?" said Hubert, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>She hid her face, upon his shoulder without a word.</p> + +<p>"My poor child, I am half inclined to think that I can guess. I know +that Flossy's life has not been all that it should have been. No, don't +tell me—I will not ask you again unless you wish to confide in me."</p> + +<p>"You said you did not know."</p> + +<p>"I do not know—exactly; but I suspect; and, my dear Enid, we can do +nothing. Make your mind easy on that point. Our highest duty now is to +hold our tongues."</p> + +<p>He thought, naturally enough, that she had heard of Florence's secret +interviews with Sydney Vane—so much, he was certain, even the +village-people knew—that in her visits to the cottages she had heard +some story of this kind, and had been distressed—that was all.</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?" said Enid, clinging to him. She was only too +thankful to get rid of the responsibility of judging for herself. "You +do not think that uncle Richard ought to know?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>"My dear girl, what an idea! Certainly not! Do you want to break the old +man's heart?"</p> + +<p>"He is very fond of little Dick," murmured Enid, rather to herself than +to him.</p> + +<p>He did not lay hold of the clue that her words might have given him if +he had attended to them more closely. He went on encouragingly—</p> + +<p>"And of his wife too. No, dear, we cannot wreck his happiness by +scruples of that kind. We must endure our knowledge—or our +suspicions—in silence. Besides, what you have heard may not be true."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, Hubert?" she said wistfully.</p> + +<p>"It is better surely to take a charitable view, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! That is just what I wanted!" she said, a new brightness +stealing into her eyes and cheeks. "Yes, I am sure that I must have been +hard and uncharitable. I will try to think better things. And, oh, +Hubert, you have really made me happy now!"</p> + +<p>"That is what I wanted," said Hubert, with a sigh, as for the first time +he pressed his lips to hers. "Your happiness, Enid, is all that I wish +to secure."</p> + +<p>He was in earnest; and it did not seem hard to him that in trying to +secure her happiness he had perhaps lost his own.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>"A Grand Morning Concert will be given on Thursday, June 25th, at +Ebury's Rooms, by the pupils of Madame della Scala. By kind permission +of Mr. Mapleson, the following <i>artistes</i> will appear." Then followed a +list of well known operatic vocalists, also Miss This, That, and the +other—"and Miss Cynthia West." The last half-dozen names were not as +yet famous.</p> + +<p>The above intimation, together with much detail concerning time, place, +and performers, was printed on a very large gilt-edged card; and two +such cards, enclosed in a thick square envelope, lay upon Hubert Lepel's +breakfast-table some months after the New Year's holiday which he had +spent at Beechfield Hall.</p> + +<p>He looked at them with an amused, interested smile,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> and read the words +more than once—then, with equal interest, perused a programme of the +concert, which had also been enclosed.</p> + +<p>"So it is to-day, is it?" he said to himself, as he finished his cup of +coffee. "She is late in sending me a ticket; I shall scarcely be able to +nail any of the critics for her now. I would have got Gurney to write +her a notice if I had known earlier. Probably that is the very reason +why she did not let me know—independent young woman that she is! I'll +go and see what I can do for her even at the eleventh hour. She shall +have a good big bouquet for her <i>début</i>, at any rate!"</p> + +<p>He sallied forth, making his way to his club, where he found occasion to +remark to more than one of his friends that Madame della Scala's concert +would be worth going to, and that a young lady who had formerly been +known in the theatrical world—Miss Cynthia West—would make her <i>début</i> +as a public singer that afternoon. Meeting Marcus Gurney, the well-known +musical critic of an influential paper, soon afterwards, he pressed upon +him his spare ticket for the concert, and gave him to understand that it +would be a really good-natured thing if he could turn in at Ebury's +Rooms between three and four, and write something for the <i>Scourge</i> that +would not injure that very promising <i>débutante</i>, Miss West. Marcus +Gurney laughed and consented, and Hubert went off well pleased; he had +at least stopped the mouth of the bitterest critic in London, he +reflected—for, though Gurney was personally one of the most amiable of +men, he could be very virulent in print. Then he went off to Covent +Garden, and selected two of the loveliest bouquets he could find—one, +of course, for Cynthia, and one for her teacher, Madame della Scala. For +Hubert was wise in his generation.</p> + +<p>He had seen very little of Cynthia West during the last few months, and +had not heard her sing at all. Shortly after his second interview with +her, he had sent her to Italy for the winter, so that she might have a +course of lessons from the most celebrated teacher in Milan. He was +gratified to hear that there had been at least nothing to unlearn. Old +Lalli had done his work very thoroughly; he had trained her voice as +only a skilled musician could have done; and, on hearing who had been +her teacher, the great Italian <i>maestro</i> had thrown up his hands and +asked her why she came to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>"You will have no need of me," he had said to her. "Lalli—did you not +know?—he was once our <i>primo tenore</i> in opera! He would have been +great—ah, great—if he had not lost his voice in an expedition to your +terrible England! So he stayed there and played the violon, did he? And +he taught you to sing with your mouth round and close like that—my own +method! La, la, la, la! We shall see you at La Scala before we have +done!"</p> + +<p>But, when the spring came, and he himself was about to fulfil an +engagement in Berlin, he handed Cynthia over to the care of Madame della +Scala, who was then going to England, and advised her to sing in +public—even to take a professional engagement—if she had the chance, +and, if not, to spend another winter under his tuition in Milan. So +Cynthia came back to London in May, and lived with Madame della Scala, +and was heard by nobody until the day of the annual semi-private +concert, which Madame della Scala loved to give for the benefit of +herself and her best pupils.</p> + +<p>Hubert reached the rooms at three precisely. He might easily have sent +in his name and obtained a little chat with Cynthia beforehand in the +artists' room; but he did not care to do that. He wanted to see her +first; he was curious to know whether her new experiences had taken +effect upon her, and how she would bear herself before her judges. He +had seen her once only since her return from Italy, and then but for a +few minutes in the society of other people. He could not tell whether +she was changed or not; and he was curious to know.</p> + +<p>She had written to him from Italy several times—letters like herself, +vivacious, sparkling, full of spirit and humor. He knew her very well +from these letters, and he was inclined to wish that he knew her better. +He would see how she looked before she knew that he was present; it +would be amusing to note whether she found him out or not.</p> + +<p>Thus he argued to himself; and then, with perverse want of logic, after +saying that he did not wish her to know that he was there, he sent his +bouquets to the green-room for teacher and pupil alike, and compromised +matters by attaching his card to Madame's bouquet only, and not to that +which he sent to Cynthia West—a feeble compromise certainly, and +entirely ineffectual.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>He seated himself on a green-colored bench on the right-hand side of the +room, and looked around him at the audience. It consisted largely of +mothers and other relatives of the pupils, some of whom came from the +most aristocratic houses in England—largely also of critics, and of +musical persons with flowing hair and note-books. Hubert knew Madame +della Scala's reputation; it was here that the <i>impresario</i> on the watch +for new talent always came—it was here that the career of more than one +famous English singer had been successfully begun. It was of some +importance therefore that Cynthia should sing her best and do her utmost +to impress her audience.</p> + +<p>Having looked about him and consulted his programme, Hubert glanced at +the platform, and was aware that a little comedy was being enacted for +the benefit of all persons present.</p> + +<p>Madame della Scala was first led forward by a bevy of admiring pupils, +Cynthia not being one, and made her bow to the audience with an air of +gracious humility that was very effective indeed. She was a dark, thin +little woman who had once been handsome, and was still striking in +appearance. She had been an operatic singer in days gone by, and had +taken up the profession of a teacher only when her vocal powers began to +fail. In demi-toilette, with ribbons and medals adorning her square-cut +bodice, long gloves on her hands, and a fan between her fingers, the +little lady curtseyed, smiled, gesticulated, in a charmingly foreign +way, which procured for her the warmest plaudits of the audience. One +felt that, though she herself was not about to perform in person, she +considered herself responsible for the efforts of her pupils, and made +herself fascinating on their behalf.</p> + +<p>A large screen was placed on one side of the platform, and a grand piano +nearly filled the other side, leaving a central space for the +performers. At first Hubert had wondered why the screen was there. Now +he saw its use. Madame della Scala seated herself in a chair behind it, +with her face to the singers—evidently under the delusion that her +figure was completely hidden from the audience, and that she could, +unseen, direct, stimulate, or reprove the singers by movement of head, +hands, handkerchief, and fan. The man[oe]uvre would have been successful +enough, but for the fact that the back of the platform was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> entirely +filled with a sheet of looking-glass, and that in this mirror her +gestures and facial contortions were all distinctly visible to the +greater number of the listeners. Hubert found great satisfaction in +watching the different expressions of her countenance; he told himself +that Madame's face was the most interesting part of the performance. How +sweetly she smiled at her favorite pupils from the shadow of the screen! +How she nodded her head and beat time with her fingers to the songs they +sang! How, in moments of uncontrollable excitement, she waved her hands +and swayed her body and gesticulated with her fan! It was a comedy in +dumb show. And, as each girl-singer, after performing her part and +curtseying to the audience, passed her teacher on the way to the +artists' room, Madame seized her impulsively by both hands, and drew her +down to impress a kiss of satisfaction on the performer's forehead. The +woman's old charm as an actress, the Southern grace and excitability and +warmth, were never more evident than when reflected in Madame's +movements behind the screen that afternoon, and visible to the +audience—did she know it after all?—only in a looking-glass.</p> + +<p>The humor of the situation impressed Hubert, and made him glad that he +had come. The whole scene had something foreign, something half +theatrical about it. An English teacher of music would have effaced +herself—would have shaken with nervousness and scowled at her pupils. +Madame had no idea of effacing herself at all. She was benignity, +composure, affability incarnate. The girls were all her "dear angels," +who were helping to make her concert a success. When, at a preconcerted +signal in the middle of the afternoon, she was led forward by one of her +most distinguished pupils, and presented by a group of adoring girls +with a great basket of flowers, her whole face beamed with satisfaction, +her medals and orders and brooches twinkled responsively as she +curtseyed, waved her fan, spread out her lace and silken draperies, and +slipped gracefully back into the screen's obscurity once more. Only one +little <i>contretemps</i> occurred to mar the harmony of the scene. Just as +Madame had returned to her seat, the screen, displaced a little by her +movement, fell over, dragging down flower-pots and ferns, and almost +upsetting Madame herself. The bevy of girls rushed to pick her up,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +gentlemen and attendants came to the rescue, and in a few moments Madame +was reinstated, a little shaken and flustered, but amiable as ever, the +screen was replaced more securely, and the concert proceeded with +decorum.</p> + +<p>But where all this time was Cynthia? She had not joined the cluster of +girls who presented the flowers to Madame, or run to pick her up when +the screen fell down. Madame was reserving Cynthia for a great effect. +She did not appear until nearly the end of the first part of the +concert, when she came on to sing an Italian aria.</p> + +<p>"More beautiful than ever!" was Hubert's first reflection. "More +beautiful than I remembered her! Is she nervous? No, I think not. Her +face will take the town if her voice does not." And then he settled +himself to listen. He was far more nervous than Cynthia herself or than +Madame della Scala, who was keeping time to the music with her fan +behind the screen.</p> + +<p>Cynthia's beauty, of an unusually striking order, was heightened by an +excitement which lent new color to her cheeks, new fire to her eyes. She +was dressed in very pale yellow—white had been rejected as not so +becoming to her dark skin as a more decided tint—and she wore a cluster +of scarlet flowers on her left shoulder. She looked like some brilliant +tropical bird or butterfly—a thing of light and color, to whom sunlight +was as essential as food. Hubert felt vain of his <i>protégée</i> as he heard +the little murmur of applause that greeted her appearance.</p> + +<p>But the applause that followed her singing swamped every other +manifestation of approval. Cynthia surpassed herself. Her voice and her +method of singing were infinitely improved; the sweet high notes were +sweeter than ever, and were full of an exquisite thrill of feeling which +struck Hubert as something new in her musical development. There was no +doubt about her success. No other singer had roused the audience to such +a pitch of excitement and admiration.</p> + +<p>Hubert glanced at Madame della Scala. She was sitting with her hands +folded, a placid smile of achievement upon her lips; she had produced +all the impression that she wished to make, and for once was completely +satisfied. Hubert read it in her look.</p> + +<p>Cynthia was curtseying to the audience, when, for the first time, Hubert +caught her eye—or rather it was for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> first time only that she +allowed him to see that she observed him; as a matter of fact, she had +been conscious of his presence ever since she entered the concert-room. +She flashed a quick smile at him, bowed openly in his direction, and—as +if by accident—touched the belt of her dress. He was quick enough to +see what she meant; some flowers from his bouquet were fastened at her +waist. He half rose from his seat, involuntarily, and almost as if he +wanted to join her on the platform, then sat down again, vexed at his +own movement, and blushing like a schoolboy. He did not know what had +come to him, he told himself; for a moment he had been quite embarrassed +and overwhelmed by this girl's bright glance and smile. She was +certainly very handsome; and it was embarrassing—yes, it was decidedly +a little embarrassing—to be recognised by her so publicly at the very +moment of her first success.</p> + +<p>"Know her?" said a voice at his shoulder—it was the voice of a critic. +"Why, she's first-rate! Isn't she the girl that used to play small parts +at the Frivolity? Who discovered that she had a voice?"</p> + +<p>"Old Lalli, I believe—first-violin in the orchestra," said Hubert.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Did he teach her, then? How did she get to della Scala? That +woman's charges are enormous—as big as Lamperti's!"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't say, I'm sure," returned Hubert, with perfect coolness.</p> + +<p>"Well, della Scala made a big hit this time, at any rate. Old Mitcham's +prowling about—from Covent Garden, do you see him? That girl will have +an engagement before the day's out—mark my words! There hasn't been +such a brilliant success for the last ten years."</p> + +<p>And then the second part of the concert began, and Hubert was left in +peace.</p> + +<p>Cynthia's second song was a greater success even than the first. There +could be no doubt that she would attain a great height in her profession +if she wished to do so; she had a splendid organ, she had been well +taught, and she was remarkably handsome. Her stage-training prevented +nervousness; and that she had dramatic talent was evidenced by her +singing of the two airs put down for her in the programme. But she took +everybody by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> surprise when she was <i>encored</i>. Instead of repeating her +last aria, she said a word in the accompanist's ear, and launched at +once into the song of Schubert's which she had sung in Hubert's rooms. +It was a complete change from the Italian music that constituted the +staple of Madame della Scala's concerts; but it revealed new capacities +of passion in the singer's voice, and was not unwelcome, even to Madame +herself, as showing the girl's talent and versatility. As she passed off +the platform, Madame caught the girl in her arms and kissed her +enthusiastically. The pupil's success was the teacher's success—and +Madame was delighted accordingly.</p> + +<p>Hubert was leaving the room at the conclusion of the concert, when an +attendant accosted him.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir! Mr. Lepel, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Miss West told me to give you this, sir;" and he put a twisted slip of +paper into Hubert's hand.</p> + +<p>Hubert turned aside and opened the note. He could have smiled at its +abruptness—so like what he already knew of Cynthia West.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you come round in the interval and let me thank you? If I +have been successful, it is all owing to you. Please come to see us this +evening if you can; I want very much to consult you. You know my +address. Madame won't let me stay now. "C. W."</p> + +<p>"Impetuous little creature!" Hubert smiled to himself—although Cynthia +was not little.</p> + +<p>He thrust the note into his pocket, and went home to dine and dress. He +knew Madame della Scala's ways. This old lady, with whom Cynthia was now +staying, loved to hold a little reception on the evening of the day of +her yearly concert, and she would be delighted to see Mr. Lepel, +although she had not sent him any formal invitation. For Cynthia's sake +he made up his mind to go.</p> + +<p>"For Cynthia's sake." How lightly he said the words! In after-days no +words were fraught with deeper and sadder suggestion for him; none bowed +him down more heavily with a sense of obligation and shame and +passionate remorse than these—"For Cynthia's sake."</p> + +<p>He went that night to Madame della Scala's house and sat for a full +hour, in a little conservatory lighted with Chinese lanterns, alone with +Cynthia West.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>"I don't know how it is," grumbled the General, "but Enid looks scarcely +any better than she did before this precious engagement of hers. You +made me think that she would be perfectly happy if she had her own way; +but I must say, Flossy, that I see no improvement."</p> + +<p>Flossy, lying on a sofa and holding a fan over her eyes, as though to +shut out the sight of her husband's bowed shoulders and venerable white +head, answered languidly—</p> + +<p>"You forget that you did only half of what you were expected to do. You +would not consent to a definite engagement until she should be eighteen +years old; she is eighteen now, and yet you are holding back. Suspense +of such a sort is very trying to a girl."</p> + +<p>The General, who had been standing beside her, sat down in a large +arm-chair and looked very vexed.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," he said obstinately—"I'm not going to have my little +girl disposed of in such a hurry! She shall not be engaged to anybody +just yet; and until she is twenty or twenty-one she sha'nt be married. +Why, she's had no girlhood at all! She's only just out of the schoolroom +now. Eighteen is nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Waiting and uncertainty are bad for a girl's spirits," said Mrs. Vane. +"You can do as you please, of course, about her engagement; but you must +not expect her to look delighted over the delay."</p> + +<p>The General put his hands on his knees and leaned forward mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Flossy," he said, "I don't wish to make you anxious, dear; but do you +think Hubert really cares for her?"</p> + +<p>Flossy lowered her fan; there was a touch of angry color in her face.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to say next, General? Why should Hubert have asked +Enid to marry him if he were not in love with her? He had, no doubt, +plenty of opportunities of asking other people."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>"Yes—yes; but Enid is very sweet and very lovely, my dear. You don't +often see a more beautiful girl. I should not like her to marry a man +who was not attached to her."</p> + +<p>Flossy controlled her anger, and spoke in a careless tone.</p> + +<p>"What makes you take such fancies into your head, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Well—more than one thing. To begin with, I found Enid wandering up and +down the conservatory just now, looking as pale as a ghost, with tears +in her eyes. I railed her a little, and asked her to tell me what was +the matter; but she would not say. And then I asked if it had anything +to do with Hubert, and whether she had heard from him lately; and, do +you know, Flossy, she has had no letter from him for a fortnight! Now, +in my day, although postage was dearer than it is now, we wouldn't have +waited a fortnight before writing to the woman that we loved."</p> + +<p>"Hubert is a very busy man; he has not time for the writing of +love-letters," said Flossy slightly.</p> + +<p>"He ought not to be too busy to make her happy."</p> + +<p>"You forget too," said Mrs. Vane, "that Hubert has no private fortune. +He is working harder than ever just now—toiling with all his might and +main to gain a competency—not for his own, but for Enid's sake. Poor +boy, he is often harassed on all sides!" She drew a little sigh as if +she were sorrowing for him.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Enid does not harass him," said the General, getting up and +pacing about the room in a hurry; "she is sweetness itself! And, as to +money, why did he propose to her if he hadn't enough to keep her on? Of +course Enid will have a nice little fortune—he needn't doubt that; but +I shall tie it up pretty tightly when she marries, and settle it all +upon herself. You may tell him that from me if you like, with my +compliments!" The General was excited—he was hot and breathing hard. +"He must have an income to put against—that's all; he's not going to +live on his wife's fortune."</p> + +<p>"Poor Hubert—I don't suppose he ever thought of such a thing!" said +Flossy, affecting to laugh at her husband's vehemence, but weighing +every word she uttered with scrupulous care. "Indeed, if he had known +that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> she would have money, I don't suppose he would even have asked her +to marry him. He believed her to be all but penniless."</p> + +<p>"And what right had he to believe that?" shouted the General, looking +more apoplectic than ever.</p> + +<p>At which Flossy softly sighed, and said, "My nerves, dear!" closed her +eyes, and held a vinaigrette to her nose.</p> + +<p>The General was quieted at once.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, my dear—I forgot that I must not talk so loudly in +your room," he said apologetically. "But my feelings get the better of +me when I think of my poor little Enid looking so white and mournful. +And so Hubert's working hard for her, is he? Poor lad! Of course I shall +not forget him either in my will—you can tell him so if you like—and +Enid's future is assured; but he must not neglect her—mustn't let her +shed tears and make those pretty blue eyes of hers dim, you know—you +must tell him that."</p> + +<p>"The General grows more and more foolish every day," said Flossy to +herself, with disgust—"a garrulous old dotard!" But she spoke very +sweetly.</p> + +<p>"I will talk to him if you like, dear; but I do not think that he means +to hurt or neglect poor Enid. He is coming down to-morrow to spend +Easter with us; that will please her, will it not? I have been keeping +it a secret from her; I wanted to give her a surprise. It will bring the +color back to her pale cheeks—will it not, you kind, sympathetic old +dear!"</p> + +<p>Flossy's white hand was laid caressingly on the General's arm. The old +soldier rose to the bait. He raised it at once to his mouth, and kissed +it as devoutly as ever he had saluted the hand of his Queen.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, "you are always right; you are a wonderful woman—so +clever, so beautiful, so good!" Did she not shiver as she heard the +words? "I will leave it in your hands—you know how to manage every +one!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Richard," said Flossy, with a faint smile, "all that I do is for +your sake."</p> + +<p>And with these words she dismissed him radiantly happy.</p> + +<p>Left to her own meditations, the expression of her face changed at once; +it grew stern, hard, and cold; there was an unyielding look about the +lines of her features which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> reminded one of the fixity of a mask or a +marble statue. She lay perfectly motionless for a time, her eyes fixed +on the wall before her; then she put out her hand and touched a bell at +her side.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately the door opened to admit her maid—a thin, upright +woman with dark eyes, and curly dark hair, disposed so as to hide the +tell-tale wrinkles on her brow and the crow's-feet at the corners of her +eyes. She wore pink bows and a smart little cap and apron of youthful +style; but it would have been evident to the eye of a keen observer that +she was no longer young. She closed the door behind her and came to her +mistress' side.</p> + +<p>Florence paused for a minute or two, then spoke in a voice of so harsh +and metallic a quality that her husband would scarcely have recognised +it as hers.</p> + +<p>"You have been neglecting your duty. You have not made any report to me +for nearly a week."</p> + +<p>"You have not asked me for one, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I do not expect to have to ask you. You are to come to me whenever +there is anything to say."</p> + +<p>The woman stood silent; but there was a protest in her very bearing, in +the pose of her hands, the expression of her mouth and eyebrows. Flossy +looked at her once, then turned her head away and said—</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing of importance to tell you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"How do you know what is important and what is not? For instance, Miss +Enid was found by the General crying in the conservatory this morning. I +want to know why she cried."</p> + +<p>The maid—whose name was Parker—sniffed significantly as she replied—</p> + +<p>"It's not easy to tell why young ladies cry, ma'am. The wind's in the +east—perhaps that has something to do with it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well!" said Mrs. Vane coldly. "If the wind is in the east, and +that is all, Parker, you had better find some position in the world in +which your talents will be of more use to you than they are to me. I +will give you a month's pay instead of the usual notice, and you can +leave Beechfield to-night."</p> + +<p>The maid's face turned a little pale.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I beg pardon, ma'am," she said rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> hurriedly; "I didn't +mean that I had nothing to say. I—I've served you as well as I could, +ma'am, ever since I came." There was something not unlike a tear in her +beady black eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have you?" said her mistress indifferently. "Then let me hear what you +have been doing during the last few days. If your notes are not worth +hearing"—she made a long pause, which Parker felt to be ominous, and +then continued calmly—"there is a train to London to-night, and no +doubt your mother will be glad to see you, character or no character."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma'am, you wouldn't go for to be so cruel, would you?" cried Parker +the unwise, evidently on the verge of a flood of tears. "Without a +character, ma'am, I'm sure I couldn't get a good place; and you know my +mother has only what I earn to live upon. You wouldn't turn me off at a +moment's notice for——"</p> + +<p>"You are wasting a great deal of time," said Flossy coldly. "Say what +you have to say, and I will be the judge as to whether you have or have +not obeyed my orders. Where are your notes?"</p> + +<p>Smothering a sob, Parker drew from her pocket a little black book, from +which she proceeded to read aloud. But her voice was so thick, her +articulation so indistinct by reason of her half-suppressed emotion, +that presently, with an exclamation of impatience, Mrs. Vane turned and +took the book straight out of her hands.</p> + +<p>"You read abominably, Parker?" she said. "Where is it? Let me see. +'Sunday'—oh, yes, I know all about Sunday!—'Church, Sunday-school, +church'—as usual. What's this? 'Mr. Evandale walked home with Miss E. +from afternoon school.' I never heard of that! Where were you?"</p> + +<p>"Walking behind them, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Could you hear anything? What do your notes say? H'm!" They walked very +slow and spoke soft—could not hear a word. At the Park gates Mr. E. +took her hand and held it while he talked. Miss E. seemed to be crying. +The last thing he said was, "You know you may always trust me." Then he +went down the road again, and Miss E. came home. Monday.—Miss E. very +pale and down-like. Indoors all morning teaching Master D. Walked up to +the village with him after his dinner; went to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> schools; saw Mr. E. +and walked along the lane with him. Mr. E. seemed more cheerful, and +made her laugh several times. The rest of the day Miss E. spent indoors. +Tuesday.—Miss E. teaching Master Dick till twelve. Riding with the +master till two. Lunch and needlework till four. Mr. Evandale came to +call. "Why was I never told that Mr. Evandale came to call?" said +Flossy, starting up a little, and fixing her eyes, bright with a +wrathful red gleam in their brown depths, upon the shrinking maid.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, ma'am. I thought that you had been told."</p> + +<p>Flossy sank back amongst her cushions, biting her lip; but she resumed +her reading without further comment.</p> + +<p>"'Stayed an hour, part of the time with Miss E. alone, then with the +master. Little Master Dick in and out most of the time. Nothing special, +as far as I could tell. Wednesday.—Miss E. walked with Master Dick to +the village after lessons. Went into Miss Meldreth's shop to buy sweets, +but did not stay more than a few minutes. Passed the Rectory gate; Mr. +E. came running after them with a book. I was near enough to see Miss E. +color up beautiful at the sight of him. They did not talk much together. +In the afternoon Miss E. rode over to Whitminster with the General. +After tea——' Yes, I see," said Mrs. Vane, suddenly stopping +short—"there is nothing more of any importance."</p> + +<p>She lay silent for a time, with her finger between the pages of the +note-book. Parker waited, trembling, not daring to speak until she was +spoken to.</p> + +<p>"Take your book," said Mrs. Vane at last, "and be careful. No, you need, +not go into ecstasies"—seeing from Parker's clasped hands that she was +about to utter a word of gratitude. "I shall keep you no longer than you +are useful to me—do you understand? Go on following Miss Vane; I want +to know whom she sees, where she goes, what she does—if possible, what +she talks about. Does she get letters—letters, I mean beside those that +come in the post-bag?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Make it your business to know, then. You can go;" and Flossy turned +away her face, so as not to see Parker's rather blundering exit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>"The woman is a fool," she said to herself contemptuously, when Parker +had gone; "but I think she is—so far—a faithful fool. These women who +have made a muddle of their lives are admirable tools; they are always +so afraid of being found out;" and Flossy smiled cynically, although at +the same moment she was conscious that she shared the peculiarity of the +woman of whom she spoke—she also was afraid of being found out.</p> + +<p>She had come across Parker before her marriage, when she was in +Scotland. The woman had then been detected in theft and in an intrigue +with one of the grooms, and had been ignominiously dismissed from +service; but Flossy had chosen to seek her out and befriend her—not +from any charitable motive, but because she saw in the discarded maid a +person whom it might be useful to have at beck and call. Parker's +bedridden mother was dependent upon her; and her one fear in life was +that this mother should get to know her true story and be deprived of +support. Upon this fear Mrs. Vane traded very skilfully; and, having +installed Parker in the place of lady's-maid to herself and her +husband's niece, she obtained accurate information concerning Enid's +movements and actions, supplied from a source which Enid never even +suspected.</p> + +<p>Such knowledge was generally very useful to Flossy, but at present she +was puzzled by certain items of news brought to her by Parker. "What +does this constant meeting with Mr. Evandale mean?" she asked herself. +Then her thoughts went back to the day of Mrs. Meldreth's death—a day +which she never remembered without a shudder. She knew very well that +the poor old woman had bitterly repented of her share in a deed to which +her daughter Sabina and Mrs. Vane had urged her; it had been as much as +Mrs. Vane and Sabina, by their united efforts, could do to make her hold +her tongue. No fear of the General's vengeance, of Sabina's disgrace, of +punishment of any kind, would have ensured her silence very much longer. +The old woman had said again and again that she could not bear—in her +own words—"to see Miss Enid kep' out of her own." She used to come to +Flossy's boudoir and sit there, crying and entreating that she might be +allowed to tell the General the truth. She did not seem to care when she +was reminded that she herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> would probably be punished, and that +Sabina and Mrs. Vane had nothing but ruin before them if the truth were +known. She had the fear of death on her soul—the fear that her sin +would bring her eternal misery.</p> + +<p>"You are a wickedly selfish woman!" Flossy once said to her, with as +near an approach to passion as her temperament would allow. "You think +of nothing but your own salvation. Our ruin, body and soul, does not +matter to you."</p> + +<p>And indeed this was true. The terrors of the law had gotten hold of Mrs. +Meldreth's conscience. The avenging sword, carried by a religion in +which she believed, had pierced her heart. She would have given +everything she had in the world to be able to follow the advice given in +her Prayer-book, to go to a "discreet and learned minister of God's +Word"—Mr. Evandale, for instance—and quiet her conscience by opening +her grief to him. But both Sabina and Mrs. Vane were prepared to go to +almost any length before they would give her the chance of doing this.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane was of course the leading spirit of the three. Where Sabina +only raved and stormed, Mrs. Vane mocked and persuaded. She argued, +threatened, coaxed, bribed, in turns; she gave Mrs. Meldreth as much +money as she could spare, and promised more for the future; but the poor +woman—at first open to persuasion—grew more and more difficult to +restrain, and became at last almost imbecile from the pressure of her +secret upon her mind. Flossy had begun seriously to consider the +expediency of inducing Sabina to consign her mother to a lunatic asylum, +or even to employ violent means for the shortening of her days on +earth—there was nothing at which her soul would have revolted if her +own prosperity could have been secured by it; but Mrs. Meldreth's +natural illness and death removed all necessity for extreme measures.</p> + +<p>Nothing indeed would have been more fortunate for Flossy and her +accomplice than Mrs. Meldreth's death, had it not been for the +circumstance that the dying woman had seen both Enid Vane and Mr. +Evandale during her last moments. Flossy wondered angrily why Sabina had +been so foolish as to admit them. She had heard nothing from Enid, who +had kept her room for a couple of days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> after her return from Mrs. +Meldreth's death-bed; but she was certain that something was now known +to the girl which had not been known before. Flossy had tried to +question her, to reprove her even for going into the houses of the sick +poor; but there had been a look in the girl's eyes, a frozen defiance +and horror in her face, which made Mrs. Vane shrink back aghast. Though +silent and not very demonstrative in manner, Enid had hitherto never +shown any dislike to Flossy, and had been as scrupulously attentive to +her wishes as if she were still a child; but these days of passive +obedience were past. Enid now quietly did what she chose. She seldom +spoke to Florence at all; and on several occasions she had maintained +her own purpose and choice with a calmness and steadfastness which had +almost terrified Mrs. Vane. Who would have thought that Enid had a +character? The girl had emancipated herself from all control, without +words, without open rebellion; she had looked Flossy straight in the +face once or twice, and Flossy had been compelled to yield.</p> + +<p>Yes, Enid knew something—she was sure of that; how much she could not +tell. She had never questioned Sabina Meldreth in person about the scene +at her mother's death-bed—on principle, Flossy spared herself all +painful and exciting interviews; but she had had a few lines from +Sabina—sent to Beechfield Hall on the day of her mother's funeral.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane knows something—I don't know how much," Sabina had written. +"The parson wanted to know, but couldn't get to hear. Maybe Miss Vane +has told him. If she has, the parish won't hold you nor me."</p> + +<p>"Abominably brusque and rude!" Flossy said to herself, as she drew the +scrap of paper from its hiding-place. "But one cannot mould clay without +soiling one's fingers, I suppose. It is months since Mrs. Meldreth died; +and evidently Enid knows less than I supposed, or has made up her mind +to keep the secret. But what do these meetings with Mr. Evandale mean? +Is she confiding her troubles to him then? The little fool! I must see +Sabina Meldreth, and Hubert too. What a good thing I had written to him +to come—though not for the sake of pleasing Miss Enid, as the General +fondly supposes! I must send for Sabina."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>But the wish seemed to have brought about its own fulfilment. At that +very moment Parker knocked at her mistress' door.</p> + +<p>"Will you see Miss Meldreth, ma'am? She says she would like a few words +with you, if you can see her. She's down-stairs."</p> + +<p>"Bring Sabina Meldreth to me," said Mrs. Vane.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + + +<p>Flossy's first instinctive desire was to rise from her sofa and receive +Sabina Meldreth standing—not at all by way of politeness, but as an +intimation that the interview was not intended to be a long one. On +second thoughts, she lay still. A show of languor and indifference was +more likely to produce an impression on Sabina than excitement. Mrs. +Vane closed her heavy white eyelids, and did not raise them until the +fair-haired woman in black, whom Hubert had noticed with the singers on +New Year's Eve, was standing beside her couch.</p> + +<p>"I thought you was asleep," said Miss Meldreth, with a slightly insolent +air. "Some people can sleep through anything."</p> + +<p>"All the better for them," answered Mrs. Vane dryly. "Why have you +come?" She was not going to admit that she had been longing to see her +visitor.</p> + +<p>"I've come for the usual thing," said Sabina doggedly—"I want some +money."</p> + +<p>"You had some last month."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and had to write three times for it—and me bothered about my +rent. You're not carrying on business on fair terms, Mrs. Vane. I want +to have a clear understanding. Mother managed all the money matters +before; but she's gone now, and I should like something definite."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by 'definite'?"</p> + +<p>"Either money down or regular quarterly payments, ma'am. You owe me that +when you think of all I've done for you."</p> + +<p>"Have I done nothing for you then," said Flossy, with a red gleam in her +brown eyes, "in saving you from disgrace, ridding you of a permanent +burden, pensioning your mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> till her death, and giving you money +whenever you have asked for it? Is that nothing at all, Sabina +Meldreth?"</p> + +<p>"It's something, of course," said Sabina stolidly; "but it ain't enough. +I want fifty pounds a quarter, paid regular. If you give me that, I'm +thinking of going back to Whitminster, where there won't be so many +people poking and prying about and asking questions."</p> + +<p>Going back to Whitminster! That would be worth paying for indeed! But +Flossy showed no sign of gratification.</p> + +<p>"What people have been asking questions?"</p> + +<p>"The parson, for one."</p> + +<p>"And who else?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sabina, rather reluctantly, "I won't say that there's any +one else. But the parson's been at me more than once, and he keeps his +eye upon me and preaches at me in church—and I won't stand it!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you go to church?" said Mrs. Vane with a faint sneer.</p> + +<p>"Because, if I don't, people would say I wasn't respectable," snapped +Miss Meldreth; "and it's no good flying in their faces that way."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Then you wish to be thought respectable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; and, what's more, so do you, Mrs. Vane, in your own way. +You're too high and mighty, and pretend to be too ill to have to go to +church; but, if you was me, and heard what folks say of them that stop +away, you'd go yourself."</p> + +<p>"Possibly," said Flossy; "we are in different circumstances. Now tell +me—why has Mr. Evandale questioned you?"</p> + +<p>"Because of what he heard when mother lay dying, of course. I wrote and +warned you at the time."</p> + +<p>"You should have said more then. You should have come and told me the +whole story. Tell it me now."</p> + +<p>It was a proof of Flossy's curious power over certain natures that +Sabina Meldreth, wild and undisciplined as she was, seldom thought of +resisting her will when in her very presence. She sat down on a chair +that Mrs. Vane pointed out to her, and recounted, in rapid and not +ill-chosen words, what had passed in her mother's room in the presence +of the Rector and of Enid Vane. Flossy listened silently, tapping her +lips from time to time with her fan.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>When the story was ended, she turned on her visitor with a terrible +flash of her usually sleepy eyes.</p> + +<p>"You fool," she said; without however raising her voice—"you fool! You +have known this all these months, and have never made your way to me to +tell it! How was I to know that the matter was so important? How was I +to suspect? I guessed something, of course; but not this! Why, Sabina +Meldreth, we are at the mercy of that child's discretion! She has us in +her hands—she can crush us when she pleases! Heavens and earth—and to +think that I did not know!"</p> + +<p>"You might have known," said Sabina sullenly. "I've been to the house +more than once. I've written and said that I wanted to see you. I don't +think it's me that's been the fool." But the last sentence was uttered +almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"No, I have been careless—I have been to blame!" said Flossy, a +feverish spot of color showing itself in her white cheeks. "So she +knows—she knows! That is why she looks at me so strangely; that is why +she avoids me and will hardly speak to me. I understand her now."</p> + +<p>"Maybe," said Sabina, "she thought mother was raving, or didn't +understand her aright."</p> + +<p>"No, no; she understood—she believes it. But why has she kept silence? +She hates me, and she might have ruined me—she might have secured +Beechfield for herself by this time! What a little idiot she must be!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane was thinking aloud rather than addressing Sabina; but that +young woman generally had an answer ready, and was not disposed to be +ignored.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane's fond of her uncle," she said drily, "and did not want +perhaps to vex him. Besides"—her voice dropped suddenly—"they tell me +she's fond of the child."</p> + +<p>Flossy did not seem to hear; she was revolving other matters in her +mind.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," she said presently; "that Miss Enid has told the Rector? +She has seen a good deal of him lately."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't; I should have heard of it before now if she had," replied +Sabina bluntly. "He don't mince matters; and he's got it into his head +that I ought to be reformed, and that I've something on my mind. That's +why I want to get to Whitminster."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>"Go farther away than Whitminster," said Mrs. Vane suddenly; "go to +London, and I'll give you the money you ask—two hundred pounds a year."</p> + +<p>"Will you? Well, I'm not ill-disposed to go to London. One could live +there very comfortable, I dare say, on two hundred a year. But how am I +to know if you'll pay it? Give me a bit of writing——"</p> + +<p>"Not a word—not a line! You need not be afraid. I'll keep my promise if +I have to sell my jewels to do it; and the General does not ask me what +I do with my allowance. By-and-by, Sabina, I may have an income of my +own; and then—then it shall be better for you as well as for me."</p> + +<p>Her tone and manner had grown silky and caressing. Miss Meldreth looked +hard at her, as if suspecting that this sugary sweetness covered some +ill design; but she read nothing but thoughtful serenity in Mrs. Vane's +fair face.</p> + +<p>"When the General's dead, you mean? Well, that's as it may be. But I +can't wait for that, you know, ma'am. He's strong and well, and may live +for twenty years to come. I want my affairs settled now."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Go to London, send me your address, and you shall have the +fifty pounds as soon as you are settled there."</p> + +<p>"That won't quite do, Mrs. Vane. I want something down for travelling +and moving expenses. I have some bills to settle before I can leave the +village."</p> + +<p>"You must be terribly extravagant!" said Flossy bitterly. "I gave you +thirty pounds at Christmas. Will ten pounds do?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty would be better."</p> + +<p>"I haven't twenty. I do not know where to get them. You must be content +with ten."</p> + +<p>"Ten won't do," said Sabina obstinately.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane made a gesture of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Reach me that jewel-box over there," she said. "Yes; bring it close—I +have the key. Here are two five-pound notes. And here—take this ring, +this bracelet—they are worth far more than ten pounds—get what you can +for them."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have the money," said Sabina; "but, if I must put up with +this, I must. I'll be off in a couple of days."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>"You had better not tell anyone before hand that you are going. Some +people might—think it their duty to interfere."</p> + +<p>"All right—I'll keep quiet, don't you fear, ma'am! Well, then, that's +settled. If I go to London, you'll send me the fifty pound a quarter. +And it must be regular, if you please—else I'll have to come down here +after it."</p> + +<p>"You will not have to do that," said Mrs. Vane coldly.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then I'll say good-bye to you, ma'am. Hope you'll get safely +through your troubles; but it seems to me that you're in an uncommon +risky position."</p> + +<p>"And, if I am," said Flossy, with sudden anger, "whose fault is it but +yours?"</p> + +<p>Sabina shrugged her shoulders, and did not seem to think it worth while +to reply. She walked to the door, and let herself out without another +look or word.</p> + +<p>She knew her way about Beechfield Hall perfectly well; and it was +perhaps of set purpose that she turned down a passage that led past the +nursery door. The door was open, and Master Dick was drawing a +horse-and-cart up and down the smooth boards of the corridor. It was his +favorite playing-place on a summer evening. He stopped short when he saw +Sabina, and looked at her with observant eyes.</p> + +<p>"This isn't your way, you know," he said, facing her gravely. "This +passage leads to my room, and Enid's room, not to the kitchens; and you +belong to the kitchens, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Sabina stopped and eyed him strangely. She looked at his delicate +sharp-featured little face, at his fair hair and blue eyes, at the +dainty neatness of his apparel, and the costly toy which he held in his +hands. Her own bold eyes softened as she looked. She half knelt down and +held out her arms.</p> + +<p>"Will you kiss me once, dearie, before I go away?"</p> + +<p>Dick looked at her wonderingly. Then he came and put his little arms +around her neck and kissed her once, twice, thrice.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry," he said; "I didn't know you were so nice and kind. But, you +see, I've only seen you in the shop."</p> + +<p>"You won't see me in the shop any more. I'm going away," said Sabina, +utterly forgetful of her promise to Mrs. Vane.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>"Are you?" said Dick. "Oh, then, won't there be any more sweeties in +your windows? Or will some one else sell them?"</p> + +<p>"Some one else, I expect. That's all that children care for!" cried +Sabina, springing to her feet. "He's got no heart!"</p> + +<p>Turning her face suddenly, she saw that there had been a spectator of +the little scene—a spectator at the sight of whom Sabina Meldreth +turned deadly white. Miss Vane stood at the nursery door. She had been +sitting there, and had heard Sabina's words and poor little Dick's +innocent reply.</p> + +<p>"You are wrong," she said gravely, with her eyes intent on Sabina's pale +distorted face. "He has a heart—he is very loving and gentle. But you +cannot expect him to love you when he does not know you. If ever he knew +you better, he would—perhaps—love you more."</p> + +<p>This speech, uttered quite gently and even pitifully, had a curious +effect upon Sabina. She burst into tears, and turned away, hiding her +face and sobbing as she went.</p> + +<p>Enid stood for a moment in the doorway, holding the door-post by one +hand, and sadly watching the retreating figure until it disappeared. +Then Dick pulled at her dress.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Enid, why does that woman cry? And why did she want to kiss me? +Was she angry or sorry, or what?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry, I think, dear," said Enid, as she went back to her seat.</p> + +<p>She drew Dick upon her knee and caressed him tenderly for a few moments; +but Dick felt, to his surprise, that the kisses she bestowed on him were +mingled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Enid, why do you cry too?"</p> + +<p>But all she answered was—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick, Dick—my poor little Dick—I hope you will never—never +know!" Which poor little Dick could not understand.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hubert Lepel arrived on the following day. He had not been to Beechfield +Hall for some weeks, and he seemed to feel it incumbent upon him to make +up to Enid for his long absence by presents and compliments; for he had +brought her a beautiful bracelet, and was unusually profuse in his +expressions of regard and admiration. And yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> Enid seemed scarcely so +pleased as a young girl in similar circumstances ought to have seemed. +Indeed she shrank a little from private conversation with him, and +looked harassed and troubled.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps in consequence of this fact that three days after his +arrival Hubert sought a private interview with his sister. Flossy had +meanwhile not spoken a word; she had been watching and waiting for those +three days.</p> + +<p>"Florence, I am inclined to think that you were mistaken."</p> + +<p>"So am I," thought Flossy to herself; but aloud she only asked, "Why, +dear?" with perfect tranquility.</p> + +<p>"About Enid. I—I am beginning to think that she doesn't much care." He +said the last words slowly, with his eyes on the tip of his boot.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are mistaken," said Flossy quietly. "But she is not +demonstrative, and—well, I may as well say it to you—she has taken +some idea into her head—something about me—about the past——"</p> + +<p>She faltered skilfully; but she kept her eyes on Hubert's face, and saw +that it wore a guilty look.</p> + +<p>"Well, Flossy, you are right," he said. "She has heard +something—village talk, I suppose—and I cannot get her to tell me what +it is."</p> + +<p>"She means perhaps to tell some one else?" said Mrs. Vane, with +bitterness.</p> + +<p>"No, I believe not. She has no wish to harm you, poor child, although +she thinks that the General ought not to be deceived. However, I +persuaded her to abandon that idea, showing her that it was not her duty +to tell a thing that would so utterly destroy his happiness." Florence +turned away her head. "I felt myself a villain," Hubert continued +gravely, "in counseling her to stifle her conscientious scruples, +Florence; but, for your sake and your husband's sake, I pleaded with +her, and prevailed on her to keep silence—she will tell no one but +myself after our marriage."</p> + +<p>"You had better not let her open the subject with you at all. It will +only be productive of unhappiness." Flossy discerned the entanglement at +once—she saw that Hubert meant one thing and Enid another; but out of +their cross-purposes she divined a way of keeping the girl silent. "For +my sake Hubert, don't discuss my terrible past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> between you. What good +would it do? Promise me that, when you are married, you will not let her +speak of it—even to you." She shed a tear or two as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Poor Flossy!" said Hubert, laying his hand on her arm. "Don't grieve, +dear! I have no right to say anything, have I? Yes, I promise you I will +not let her say a word about the matter, either now or afterwards, if I +can help it, and certainly to no one beside myself."</p> + +<p>And with this promise Flossy feigned contentment. But, when Hubert had +left her, she paced up and down the room with cheeks that flamed with +excitement, and eyes that glowed with the dull red light of rage.</p> + +<p>"What was I thinking about to bring this engagement to pass?" she said +to herself. "Yet, after all, it is better so. Hubert has a reason for +silencing her; with any other man, she would have the matter out in a +trice, and ruin me. Now what is the next move? To delay the marriage, of +course. I will come round prettily to the General's view, and uphold him +in his determination not to allow the marriage for at least two years. +So Enid says that she will not betray me until she is married, does she? +Then she will never have the chance; for a great deal may happen—to a +delicate girl like Enid Vane—in two long years."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert had been worried and overworked of late; it had appeared to him a +good thing that he should spend a few of the spring days at Beechfield, +and try to recover in the society of his sister and his betrothed the +serenity that he had lost. But this seemed after all no easy thing to +do. He was annoyed to find himself irritated by small matters; his +equanimity, usually perfect, was soon ruffled; and, although he did not +always show any outward sign of vexation, he felt that his temper was +not quite under his own control. And it was Enid, curiously enough, who +irritated him most.</p> + +<p>"Who is this new singer," she asked one day, "about whom people are +talking so much?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Enid, how am I to know which singer you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> mean?" he said, +letting the newspaper drop from his hand, and clasping his hands +leisurely behind his head. "There are so many new singers!"</p> + +<p>They had been having tea under the beech-tree, and, as usual, had been +left alone to do their love-making, undisturbed. Their love-making was +of a very undemonstrative character. Enid sat in one comfortable +basket-chair, Hubert in another, at a yard's distance. Their +conversation went on in fragments, interspersed by long pauses filled up +by an orchestra of birds in the branches overhead.</p> + +<p>"I do not remember her name exactly," said Enid. "The Tollemaches were +talking about her yesterday; they heard her in town last week. 'Cynthia' +something—'Cynthia,' I remember that, because it is such an uncommon +name."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean Miss Cynthia West," said Hubert, after a very long +pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'Cynthia West'—that was the name. Have you heard her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And do you think her very wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"She is a remarkably fine singer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope we shall hear her when we next go up to London! Aunt Leo +wants me to stay with her."</p> + +<p>"That will be very nice," said Hubert, bestirring himself a little. +"Then you will hear all the novelties. But I would not go just yet if I +were you, London has not begun to wake up again after its winter sleep."</p> + +<p>"What a horrible place it must be!" said Enid, with a little shiver.</p> + +<p>"You think so? It is my home."</p> + +<p>There was an accent in his voice which impressed Enid painfully. She +clasped her hands rather tightly together in her lap, and said, after +another pause, in a lower tone—</p> + +<p>"I dare say I should grow fond of it if I lived there."</p> + +<p>"As you will do, in time," said Hubert, with a smile. "You must try to +believe that you will soon be as absorbed in town-life as every other +woman; that concerts and theatres and balls will make up for green +fields and the songs of birds; that men are more interesting than brooks +and flowers; that to shop and to gossip are livelier occupations than +visiting the poor and teaching little Dick. Don't you think you can +imagine it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine it; but, if I had to do it, I would try. I don't think +your picture is very attractive, if I may say so, Hubert."</p> + +<p>"Don't you, dear? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It sounds so unreal. Do women pass their lives in that frivolous, vapid +way?"</p> + +<p>"Not all of them, of course. There are women who have work to do," said +Hubert, looking idly into the distance, as if he were thinking of some +one or something that he could not see.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know—working women—professional women—women," said Enid, +with an innocent smile, "like Cynthia West."</p> + +<p>Hubert gave a slight start; then, to cover it, he changed his position, +bringing his arms down and crossing them on his breast.</p> + +<p>"You might tell me what she is like," continued Enid, with more +playfulness of manner than she generally showed. "You tell me so little +about London people! Is she handsome?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very."</p> + +<p>"Dark or fair?"</p> + +<p>"Very dark."</p> + +<p>"Is she an Englishwoman?" pursued Enid.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know. I never asked."</p> + +<p>"You know her then?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you ask all these questions?" said Hubert, as if he had not +heard the last. "Who has put Miss West into your head in this way?" He +looked annoyed.</p> + +<p>Enid at once put out a caressing hand.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to be too inquisitive, Hubert dear. But the Tollemaches +are very musical, and they were talking a great deal about her. They +said they saw you at the concert when she came out—some Italian +teacher's semi-private concert—and they seemed to think that you knew +the whole set of people who were there."</p> + +<p>Mentally Hubert made some uncharitable remarks on the future destiny of +the Tollemaches; but he controlled himself so far as to answer coolly—</p> + +<p>"I know several of that set, certainly. I know Miss West a little."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>"How delightful," cried Enid. "I should like to meet some of these great +artists. Will you ever be able to introduce me to her, do you think, +Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Hubert, knitting his brows. He did not find himself +able to turn the subject quite as easily as he could have wished.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't she nice?" hazarded Enid doubtfully. "I always fancy that the +people who sing and act in public can't be quite as nice as the people +who stay in their own home-circle. I know that you will think me very +narrow-minded to say so, but I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that I do think it rather narrow-minded," said Hubert +quietly, but with a dangerous lighting of his eyes. "You must surely +know that some of these singers are as good, as noble, as womanly as any +of your sheltered young ladies in their home-circles, who have not +genius enough to make themselves talked of by the world!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I suppose so!" said Enid, quite unconscious of the storm that +she was exciting in Hubert's breast. "But it is difficult to understand +why they prefer a public life to a private one. Do you think they really +like appearing on the stage?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure they do," said Hubert, with a short laugh. "You cannot +understand it as yet, I suppose; you will understand it by-and-by. It +would be a very poor lookout for a novelist and playwright like myself, +Enid, if every one thought as you do."</p> + +<p>And then he got up and walked to meet the General, who was approaching +the tea-table, and, as the two were soon deep in political matters, Enid +presently slipped away unobserved.</p> + +<p>She felt vaguely that she had vexed or disappointed her lover; she knew +the tones of his voice well enough to feel sure that in some way she had +said what he did not approve. And yet, on reflection, she could not see +that she had given him legitimate cause of offence. She knew that he did +not agree with her in preferring country to town; or in thinking that +women who sang in public were not quite of her class; but she did not +think that he ought to be angry with her for expressing her views. He +perplexed her very much by his moments of irritation, of coldness, of +absence of mind. At times he was certainly very different. He could be +most tender, though always with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> the tenderness of a grown man to a +child, of a strong person towards a weak one—and this was a kind of +tenderness which did not satisfy Enid's heart. Sometimes indeed she was +thankful that it was so, feeling as if any great display of affection on +his part would be overwhelming, out of place; but at other times she +felt that his calm kindness was almost an insult to the woman whom he +had asked to be his wife. A little while back she would not have thought +so—she would have been well content with his behavior; but a new factor +had come into her life since her engagement to Hubert Lepel, some new +and agitating consciousness of power had dawned upon her, with a +revelation of faculties and influences to which she had hitherto been a +stranger; and, in presence of these novel emotions and discoveries, +Hubert was weighed in the balance and found wanting.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Hubert was as uncomfortable as a man could well be. He had +always meant to be faithful and tender to Enid—for whom, as he had +said, he would do anything in his power to save her from unhappiness; on +the other hand, he found the task more difficult than he had dreamed. He +had seen her first as a sweet, docile, pliable creature, ready to be +led, ready to be taught, and he had meant to mould her to his will. But, +lo and behold, the girl was not really pliable at all! She had a +distinct character, an individuality of her own, as different from any +ideal of Hubert's as ice from fire. Her inability to appreciate the +artistic side of life—as he put it to himself—her dislike to the great +town where all his interests lay—these were traits which troubled him +out of proportion to their intrinsic worth. How could he be happy with a +woman who differed from him so entirely in habits, taste, and training? +He forgot for a moment that he had asked her to marry him in order that +she might be made happy—that he had solemnly put aside from himself all +thought of personal joy. But human nature is weak, and renunciation not +always pleasant. It occurred to his mind that Enid herself might not be +very happy if married to a man with whom she was not in sympathy.</p> + +<p>It was half with relief, half with regret, that he listened to a +monologue from the General on the subject of Enid's marriage.</p> + +<p>"I always disapproved of early marriages," he said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> sapiently; "they +never turn out well. And Enid is delicate; she must not take the cares +of a household upon her until she is older and stronger. Don't ask me +for her until she is twenty-one, Hubert! She shall not marry till then +with my consent." He had never spoken so strongly before; but he was +reinforced by Flossy's recently-bestowed approval. Till within the last +few days, Flossy had been all for a speedy marriage. She said now that +she was convinced that her "dear Richard" was perfectly right, and the +General was "cock-a-hoop" accordingly. "I need not threaten; you know +very well that I have the whole control of the money that would go to +her dowry—I need say nothing more. I will have no marriage talked +about—no engagement even—for the present. Mind you, Enid is not +engaged to you, Hubert. If she thinks fit to change her mind, she may do +so."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + +<p>"And, if you think fit to change your mind, you may do so too. Nobody +wants either of you to marry where you do not love; the worst thing in +the world!"</p> + +<p>"When is this prohibition to be removed?" asked Hubert. "It seems to me +a little hard upon—upon us both."</p> + +<p>"If Enid is stronger, I will allow her to be engaged in a year's time," +said the General, "but not before; and I shall tell her so."</p> + +<p>The first time that Hubert found himself alone with Enid he said—</p> + +<p>"The General seems to have changed his mind about our engagement, Enid."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he told me so," she answered meekly.</p> + +<p>"He says we are not to consider ourselves engaged."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry that he should take that view——"</p> + +<p>"Don't be sorry, please!" she said, quickly interrupting him. "I think +that it is better so."</p> + +<p>"Better, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He says that I am not strong—and it is true. I feel very weak +sometimes, not strong enough to bear much, I am afraid. If I were to +become an invalid, I should not marry." She spoke gently, but with great +resolution.</p> + +<p>"That is all a morbid fancy of yours," said Hubert. "You will be better +soon. After this summer, the General<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> talks of winter in the Riviera. +That will do you all the good in the world."</p> + +<p>"I think not," she answered quietly. "I am afraid that I am not so +likely to recover as you think. And, if not, nothing on earth will +induce me to marry any man. Remember that, Hubert—if I am not better, I +will not marry you. I intend to join the sisters at East Winstead."</p> + +<p>"It is that meddling parson who is at the bottom of this, I'll swear!" +said Hubert angrily, quitting her side and pacing about the room. He +noticed that at his words the color rose in the girl's pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>"If you mean Mr. Evandale," she said, "I can assure you that he has +never said a word to me about East Winstead. It is entirely my own +wish."</p> + +<p>"My dear child," said Hubert, halting in front of her, "the last thing +we want is to force your wishes in any direction. If, for instance, you +wish to throw me over and be a nun, do so by all means. I only ask you +to be true to yourself, and to see that you do not act on impulse, or so +as to blight the higher impulses of your nature. I can say no more."</p> + +<p>Enid looked at him wistfully, and seemed inclined to speak; but the +entrance of her uncle at that moment put a stop to further conversation, +and the subject was not reopened before Hubert's return to town.</p> + +<p>"No engagement—free to do as I please." The words hummed themselves in +Hubert's mind to the accompaniment of the throbs of the steam-engine all +the way back to London. What did it mean? What did Enid herself mean? +Was it not a humiliating position for a man to be in? Was it fair either +to him or to the girl? Did it not mean, as a matter of fact, that Flossy +had been mistaken, and that Enid was not in the least in love with him? +He could not say that she had been especially affectionate of late. +Passively gentle, sweet, amiable, she always was, but not emotional, not +demonstrative. At that moment Hubert would have given ten years of his +life to know what was in her heart—what she really meant, and wanted +him to do.</p> + +<p>Arrived at Charing Cross Station, he seemed uncertain as to his +movements. He hesitated when the porter asked him what he should do with +his luggage, and gave an order which he afterwards contradicted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>"No," he said, "I won't do that. Put my things on a cab. All right! +Drive to No.—Russell Square."</p> + +<p>This was his home-address; but, when there, he did not go up-stairs. He +told his landlady to send his things to his room, and not to expect him +back to dinner, as he meant to dine at his club.</p> + +<p>He did so; but after dinner his fitful hesitancy seemed to revive. He +smoked a cigarette, talked a little to one of his friends, then went out +slowly and, as it seemed, indecisively into the street, and called a +hansom-cab. Then his indecision seemed to leave him. He jumped in, +shouted an address to the driver, and was driven on to a quiet square in +Kensington, where he knocked at the door of a tall narrow house, only +noticeable in the daytime by reason of the masses of flowers in the +balcony, and at night by the rose-colored blinds, illuminated by the +light of a lamp, in the drawing-room windows.</p> + +<p>The servant who opened the door welcomed him with a smile, as if his +face was well known to her. He passed her with a word of explanation, +and marched up-stairs to the first-floor, where he tapped lightly at the +drawing-room door, and then, without waiting, walked into the room.</p> + +<p>A girl in a red dress, who had been kneeling on the rug before the fire, +rose to her feet as he came in and uttered a blithesome greeting.</p> + +<p>"At last!" she said. "So here you are, monsieur! I was wondering what +had become of you, and thought you had deserted me altogether!"</p> + +<p>"Could I do that?" said Hubert, in a tone in which mock gallantry was +strangely mingled with a tenderness which was altogether passionate and +earnest. "Do you really think that I ever could do that?"</p> + +<p>The girl he spoke to was Cynthia West.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia West made a delightful picture as she stood in the glow of the +firelight and the rose-shaded lamps. Her dress, of deep red Indian silk, +partly covered with puffings of soft-looking net of the same shade, was +cut low, to show<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> her beautiful neck and throat; the sleeves were very +narrow, so that the whole length of her finely-shaped arm could be seen. +Her dusky hair gave her all the stateliness of a coronet; swept away +from her neck to the top of her head, it left only a few stray curls to +shadow with bewitching lightness and vagueness the smooth surface of the +exquisite nape. What was even more remarkable in Cynthia than the beauty +of her face was the perfection of every line and contour of her body; +the supple, swelling, lissom figure was full of absolute grace; she +could not have been awkward if she had tried. It was the characteristic +that chiefly earned her the admiration of men; women looked more often +at her face.</p> + +<p>"Are you alone?" said Hubert, smiling, and holding out both his hands, +in which she impulsively placed her own.</p> + +<p>"Quite alone. Madame has gone out; only the servants are in the house. +How charming! We can have a good long chat about everything!"</p> + +<p>"Everything!" said Hubert, sinking with a sigh of relief into the low +chair that she drew forward. "I shall be only too happy. I have +stagnated since I saw you last—which was in March, I believe—an age +ago! It is now April, and I am absolutely ignorant as to what has been +going on during the last few weeks."</p> + +<p>"You have been in the country?" laughed Cynthia. "How I pity you!"</p> + +<p>"You do not like the country?"</p> + +<p>"Not one little bit. I had enough of it when I was a child."</p> + +<p>"You were brought up in the country, were you?" said Hubert carelessly. +"I should never have taken you for a country-bred girl—although your +physique does not speak of town-life, after all."</p> + +<p>"Is that meant for a compliment?" said Cynthia, the clear color suddenly +rising in her cheeks. "Bah—I do not like compliments—from some people! +I should like to forget all about my early life—dull tiresome days! I +began to live only when I came to London."</p> + +<p>"Which was when you were about fifteen, was it not? You have never told +me where you lived before that."</p> + +<p>Cynthia made a little <i>moue</i> of disgust.</p> + +<p>"You have always been much too polite hitherto to ask<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> unpleasant +questions. I tell you I want to forget those earlier years. If you must +know, I was at school."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Hubert; "I had no idea that the subject was so +unpleasant to you, or I would not have alluded to it, of course."</p> + +<p>Cynthia gave him a quick look.</p> + +<p>"You have a right to ask," she said, in a lower voice. "I suppose I +ought to tell you the whole story; but——"</p> + +<p>There was strong reluctance in her voice.</p> + +<p>"You need do nothing of the kind. I have no right at all; don't talk +nonsense, Cynthia. After all, what is the use of raking up old +reminiscences? I have always held that it is better to put the past +behind us—to live for the present and the future. All of us have +memories that we would gladly forget. Why not make it a business of life +to do so?"</p> + +<p>"'Forgetting those things which are behind,'" Cynthia murmured.</p> + +<p>She was sitting on a very low chair, her hands loosely clasped before +her, her eyes searching the embers of the fire. Hubert looked at her +curiously.</p> + +<p>"I never heard you quote Scripture before," he said, half laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why not? There are plenty of things in the Bible worth thinking about +and quoting too," said Cynthia briskly, but with a sudden change of +attitude. "It would be better for us both, I have no doubt, if we knew +it a little better, Mr. Lepel. Aren't you going to smoke? It does not +seem at all natural to see you without a cigar in your mouth."</p> + +<p>"What a character to give me! Smoke in this rose-tinted room?"</p> + +<p>"Madame's friends all smoke here. You need not be an exception. She +herself condescends at times to the luxury of a cigarette."</p> + +<p>"You call it a luxury?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Madame has initiated me. But you will understand that I +don't display my accomplishment to every one."</p> + +<p>"No—don't," said Hubert, a trifle gravely.</p> + +<p>She looked round at him with a pretty defiance in her eyes and a laugh +upon her face.</p> + +<p>"Don't you approve?" she said mockingly. "Ah, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> have yet something to +learn! It is quite evident that you have been spending Easter in the +country, and its gentle dulness hangs about you still."</p> + +<p>"Gentle dulness!" Hubert thought involuntarily of Enid. Yes, the term +fitted her very well. Timid, gentle, dull—thus unjustly he thought of +her; while, as to Cynthia—whatever Cynthia's faults might be, she was +not dull—a great virtue in Hubert's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I think you could make me approve of anything you do," he said, as he +rose in obedience to her invitation to light his cigar. "Some people +have the grace of becomingness; they adorn all they touch."</p> + +<p>"What a magnificent compliment! I will immediately put it to the test," +said Cynthia lightly. She had also risen, and was examining a little +silver box on the mantelpiece. "Here Madame keeps her Russian +cigarettes," she said. "I have not set up a stock of my own, you see. +Now give me a light. There—I can do it quite skilfully!" she said, as +she placed one of the tiny <i>papelitos</i> between her lips and gave one or +two dainty puffs. "Now does it become me?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent well!" said Hubert, who was leaning back in an enormous +chair, so long and deep that one lay rather than sat in it, and +regarding her with amusement. "'All what you do, fair creature, still +betters what is done.'"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm content," said Cynthia, seating herself and holding the +cigarette lightly between her fingers.</p> + +<p>She still kept it alight by an occasional little puff; but Hubert smiled +to see that her enjoyment of it was, as a humorist has said of his first +cigar, "purely of an intellectual kind." She enjoyed doing what was +unusual and <i>bizarre</i>—that was all. He wondered whence she sprang, this +brilliant creature of earth with instincts so keen, desires so ardent, +mind and imagination so much more fully developed than was usual with +girls of her age. Cynthia's beauty was undeniable; but even without +beauty, save that of youth, she would have been striking and remarkable.</p> + +<p>She was not conscious of his continued gaze at her; she seemed to be +lost in thought—perhaps of her earlier years, for presently she said in +a reflective tone—</p> + +<p>"You were surprised at my quoting Scripture. I won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>der why? I do not +seem such a bad person that I must not quote the Bible, do I?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"I used to be at the head of the Bible-class always when I was at St. +Elizabeth's," she said dreamily. She did not notice that Hubert gave a +little start when he heard the name.</p> + +<p>"Your school was called St. Elizabeth's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"At East Winstead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes"—this time rather hesitatingly. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Did you happen to know a girl called Jane Wood?"</p> + +<p>The two looked at each other steadily for a minute or two. Hubert had +spoken with resolute quietness; he thought that Cynthia's expression +hardened, and that her color failed a little as she replied—</p> + +<p>"I remember her quite well. She ran away."</p> + +<p>"Before you left?"</p> + +<p>"Before I left," said the girl, looking down at the cigarette she had +taken from her lips and held between her fingers. Suddenly she threw it +into the fire, and sitting erect, while a hot flush crossed her face, +went on, "Why do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing! What sort of a girl she was, for instance."</p> + +<p>"A wild little creature—a horrid, ungrateful, bad-tempered girl! +They—we were all glad when she went."</p> + +<p>"Why, the old woman—what's her name?—Sister Louisa—said that she was +a general favorite!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she wasn't. When were you there?"</p> + +<p>"The day after her departure, I think."</p> + +<p>"And what took you there, Mr. Lepel?" There was a touch of bewilderment +in Cynthia's voice.</p> + +<p>"Curiosity, for the most part."</p> + +<p>"No one was at the school whom you knew, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hubert, reflecting that Jane Wood had gone before he paid his +visit.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Cynthia did not understand this point. At any rate, she looked +relieved.</p> + +<p>"I was glad when my time came to leave," she said more freely.</p> + +<p>"Did you not like the place?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well. It was frightfully, awfully dull!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>"And yet you had never known anything more exciting? Were you really +conscious at the time that it was dull, or did you realise its dulness +only afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must have had it in my blood to know the difference between +dulness and enjoyment," she said lightly; "otherwise——"</p> + +<p>"Well—otherwise?"</p> + +<p>"Otherwise," she said smiling at him, "how should I know it now? There +is a vast difference between dulness and enjoyment—as vast as that +between happiness and misery; and I know them both."</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," he said, rising and leaning towards her—"Cynthia, child, you +do enjoy your present life—you are happy, are you not?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him silently. The smile faded; he noticed that her bosom +rose and fell more quickly than before.</p> + +<p>"You think I ought to be?" she said. "But why? Because I have been in +Italy—because I have had a little success or two—because people say +that I am handsome and that I have a voice? That is not my idea of +happiness, Mr. Lepel, if it is yours; but you know as well as I do that +it is not happiness at all. It is excitement if you like, but nothing +else—not even enjoyment."</p> + +<p>"What would you call enjoyment then, Cynthia? What is your idea of +happiness?" Her hurried breathing seemed to have infected him with like +shortness of respiration; there was a fire in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said looking away from him and holding her hands tightly +clasped upon her knee, "it is not different from other women's ideas of +happiness—it is quite commonplace! It means a safe happy home of my +own, with no reasonable fear that distrust or poverty or sin should +invade it—congenial work—a companion that I could love and trust and +work for and care for——" she stopped short.</p> + +<p>"A husband," said Hubert slowly, "and children to kiss your lips and +call you 'Mother,' and a man's love to soften and sweeten all the days +of your life." She nodded, but did not speak. "And I," he said, with an +irrepressible sigh—"I want a woman's love—I want a home too, and all +the sweet charities of home about me. Yes, that is happiness."</p> + +<p>"It will be yours by-and-by, I suppose," said Cynthia,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> in a rather +choked voice—he told her that he was engaged to be married.</p> + +<p>"I see no probability," he answered drily. "She—her guardian will not +allow an engagement."</p> + +<p>"But—she loves you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think so; I am sure indeed that she does not!"</p> + +<p>"And you—you care for her?"</p> + +<p>"No; by Heaven, I do not!"</p> + +<p>"Then by-and-by you will meet somebody whom you love."</p> + +<p>"I have met somebody now," said Hubert, in a curiously dogged tone; +"but, as I am sure that she does not care a pin for me, there is no harm +in letting the secret out."</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"—in a startled tone.</p> + +<p>"She is a singer. She used to be an actress; but she has a magnificent +voice and is in training for the operatic stage. She will be a great +star one day, and I shall worship her from afar. But I have never met +anybody in the world who will ever be to me what that woman might have +been."</p> + +<p>"How do you know," said Cynthia, in a scarcely audible voice, "that you +are not so much to her as she is—you say—to you?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know? I am certain of it—certain that she regards me as a +useful, pleasant friend who is anxious to do his best for her in the +musical world, and nothing more. If I dreamed for a moment that I was +nearer and dearer to her than that, I should hold my tongue. But, as it +is, knowing that I am not worthy to kiss the hem of her garment, and +that if she knew all my unworthiness she would be the first to bid me +begone, I do not fear—now, once and once only—to tell her that I love +her with all my heart and mind and body and soul, and that I ask nothing +from her but permission to love on until the last day of my life."</p> + +<p>"Now, once and once only?" repeated Cynthia.</p> + +<p>She looked up and saw that he stood ready for departure. His face was +pale, his lips were tightly set, and his eyes sent forth a strange +defiant gleam which she had never seen before. He made three strides +towards the door before she collected herself sufficiently to start up +and speak.</p> + +<p>"No—no—you must not go! One moment! And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> what if—if"—she could +hardly get out the words—"what if the woman that you loved had loved +you too, ever since you saved her from poverty and disgrace and worse +than death in the London streets?"</p> + +<p>She held out her arms to him, as if praying him to save her once again. +He stood motionless, breathing heavily, swaying a little, as if impelled +at one moment to turn away and at another to meet her extended hands.</p> + +<p>"Then," he said at last—"then I should be of all men most miserable!"</p> + +<p>It was illogical, it was weak, it was base, after those words, to yield +to the tide of passion which for the first time in his life surged up in +his soul with its full strength and power. And yet he did yield—why, +let those who have loved like him explain. As soon as he had uttered his +protest, and it seemed as if the battle should be over and these two +divided from each other for evermore, the two leapt together, and were +clasped in each other's arms.</p> + +<p>She lay upon his breast; his arms were around her, his lips pressed +passionately to hers. In the ecstacy of that moment conscience was +forgotten, the past was obliterated; nothing but the fire and energy of +love remained. And then—quite suddenly—came a revulsion of feeling in +the mind of the man whose guilt had, after all, not left him utterly +without remorse. To Cynthia's terror and dismay, he sank upon his knees +before her, and, with his arms clasped round her waist, and his face +pressed close to her slight form, burst into a passion, an agony of +sobs. She did not know what to do or say! she could but entreat him to +be calm, repeating that she loved him—that she would love him to the +last day of her life. It was of no use, the agony would have its way.</p> + +<p>He did not try to explain his singular conduct. When he rose at last, he +kissed her on the forehead, and, murmuring, somewhat inarticulately, +that he would see her on the morrow, he left the room. She heard the +street door close, and knew, with a strange mixture of fear and joy, +that he had gone, and that he loved her. In the consciousness of this +latter fact she had no fear of the morrow.</p> + +<p>He might perhaps have kept his lips from an avowal of love, which was +afterwards bitter to him as death if he had known that at St. +Elizabeth's Cynthia West had once been known as the convict's daughter, +Jane Wood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + + +<p>"Look here, Cynthia," he said abruptly, when he met her the next +morning—"this won't do! I was to blame; I made a fool of myself last +night."</p> + +<p>"What—in saying that you loved me?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes—in saying that I loved you. You know very well that I did not +intend to say it."</p> + +<p>"Does that matter?" she asked, in a low voice. She had taken his hand, +and was caressing his strong white fingers tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I did it against my conscience."</p> + +<p>"Because of that other girl?"</p> + +<p>He considered a moment and then said "Yes." But he was not prepared for +the steadily penetrating gaze which she immediately turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite believe that," she said slowly.</p> + +<p>"You doubt my word?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Cynthia, in a dry matter-of-fact way; "I doubt everybody's +word. Nobody tells the whole truth in this agreeable world. You forget +that I am not a baby—that I have knocked about a good deal and seen the +seamy side of life. Perhaps you would like me better if I had not? You +would like me to have lived in the country all my life, and to be gentle +and innocent and dull?"</p> + +<p>"I could not like you better than as you are," he said, passing one arm +round her.</p> + +<p>"That's right. You do love me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"That is not a very warm assurance. Do you feel so coldly towards me +this morning?"</p> + +<p>"My dearest—no!"</p> + +<p>"That's better. Dear Hubert——may I call you Hubert?"—he answered with +a little pressure of his arm—"if you really care for me, I can say what +I was going to say; but, if you don't—if that was how you made a fool +of yourself by saying so when you did not mean it—then tell me, and I +shall know whether to speak or to hold my tongue."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>She spoke forcibly, with a directness and simplicity which enchanted +Hubert in spite of himself. He assured her that he loved her from the +bottom of his heart, that she might speak freely, and that he would be +guided, if possible, by what she said—he knew that she was good and +wise and generous. And then he kissed her once more on the lips, and she +believed his words. She began to speak, blushing a little as she did so.</p> + +<p>"I only want to understand. You are not married, Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"My darling—no!"</p> + +<p>"And you said last night that you were not engaged?"</p> + +<p>"I am not engaged," he said more slowly.</p> + +<p>"You have—some other engagement—entanglement—of which I do not know?"</p> + +<p>"No, Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"Then," she, said, facing him with a boldness which he thoroughly +admired, "why do you want to draw back from what you said to me last +night?"</p> + +<p>Hubert looked more than serious—he looked unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Draw back," he said slowly—"that is a hard expression!"</p> + +<p>"It is a hard thing," she rejoined.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, if I had suspected—if you had ever given me any reason to +suppose—that you were willing to think of me as more than a friend, I +would not have spoken. I am not worthy of you; I can but drag you back +from a brilliant career; it is not fair to you."</p> + +<p>The girl stood regarding him meditatively; there was neither fear nor +sign of yielding in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"That does not sound natural," she said; "it does not sound quite real. +Excuse me, but you would not, merely as a novelist, make your hero try +to back out of an engagement for that reason. If he gave it, the reader +would know at once there was something else—something in the +background. I believe that the amiable heroine would accept the +explanation and go away broken-hearted. But I," said Cynthia, with a +little stamp of impatience—"I am not amiable, and I mean neither to +believe in your explanation nor to break my heart; and so, Mr. Hubert +Lepel, you had better tell me what this is really all about."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Cynthia, I had better let you think me a fool or a brute than lead +you into this!" cried Hubert.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>"But I should never think you a fool or a brute, whatever you did."</p> + +<p>"You do not know what you might think of me—in other circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Try," she said, almost in a whisper, slipping her hand into his.</p> + +<p>But he shook his head and looked down, knitting his brows uneasily.</p> + +<p>"What will satisfy you?" she asked at length, evidently convinced from +his manner that something was more seriously amiss than she had thought. +"Do you not know that where I give my love I give my whole trust and +confidence. More than that, I shall never take it away, even if all the +world told me—even if I had some reason to believe—that you were not +worthy of my trust. Oh, what does the world know of you? I understand +you much better. Can't you see that a woman loves a man for what he is, +and not for what he does?"</p> + +<p>"What he does proceeds from what he is, Cynthia, I am afraid," said +Hubert sadly.</p> + +<p>"Not always. People are often betrayed into doing things that do not +show their real nature at all," said the girl eagerly. "A man gives way +to a sudden temptation—he strikes a blow—and the world calls him a +ruffian and a murderer; or he takes what belongs to another because he +is starving, and the world calls him a common thief. We cannot judge."</p> + +<p>He had drawn away from her, and was resting his arm on the mantelpiece, +and his head upon his arm. A strange vibration passed through his frame +as he listened to her words.</p> + +<p>"Do you think, then," he said at last, speaking with difficulty, and +without raising his head, "that you could love a man that the world +condemned, or would condemn, if they knew all—could you love a man who +was an outcast, a felon, a—a murderer?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that I could," said Cynthia fervently. For the moment she was +not thinking of Hubert, however, but of another man whom she had loved, +and whom she had seen condemned to death for the murder of Sydney Vane.</p> + +<p>Hubert put out his left hand and drew her close to him. Even now there +was one thing that he dared not say; he did not dare ask her whether she +could love a man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> had allowed another to bear the punishment which +he had deserved, although he had hidden his guilt from a desire to save +another rather than himself. He remained for a few moments in the same +posture, with his face hidden on his right arm and his left encircling +Cynthia; but, after a time, he stood up, drew her closer to his breast +and kissed her forehead. Then he put her away from him and crossed his +arms across his chest. His face was pale and drawn, there were beads of +perspiration on his forehead, and his lip was bitten underneath his +thick moustache.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," he said hoarsely, "to you, at least, I will try to be an +honest man. I never knew a woman as brave, as true as you are; I'll do +my best, at any rate, to be not altogether unworthy of you, my darling. +I would give all I have in the world if I could ask you to marry me, +Cynthia; but I can't. There is an obstacle; you were right—I am not +free."</p> + +<p>"I thought there was some real reason," she said quietly. "I knew you +would not have spoken as you did without a reason."</p> + +<p>"I am not engaged; or perhaps I should say that I am engaged, and that +she is free. If at the end of two years she is stronger in health, and +her uncle withdraws his opposition, and she cares to accept me, I have +promised to be ready. The last thing I ever meant was to ask any other +woman to be my wife. But I was weak enough not to deny myself the +bitter-sweet solace of telling you that I loved you; and thus I have +drawn down punishment on myself. Cynthia, can you ever forgive me?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer; she seemed to be thinking deeply. After a few +minutes' silence, she looked at him wistfully, and asked another +question.</p> + +<p>"You said she did not love you. Was that true?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so."</p> + +<p>"Then why does she want to marry you?" There was something child-like in +Cynthia's tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she does, Cynthia; I think it is only her uncle's wife +who has been trying to bring about a marriage between us; and perhaps it +was my conviction that this marriage would never come about which made +me less careful than I might have been. Assuredly I never intended to +tell you what I told you last night."</p> + +<p>"But I am glad you did," said Cynthia, almost inaudibly. Then she put +her hand on Hubert's arm, and looked at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> him with a soft and beautiful +expression in her large dark eyes. "I am glad, because it will make life +easier for me to know that you care for me. Now I want you to listen to +me for a few moments. From what you say, I think that this girl is weak +in health, an orphan, and not perhaps very happy in her home? Yes, that +is so—is it not? Do you think then that I would for a moment rob her of +what might make all her happiness? You say that she does not care for +you. But you may be mistaken; you know you thought that—that I did not +care either. You must wait for her, and see what will happen at the end +of the two years. If she claims you then—well, it will be for you to +decide whether you will marry her; but I shall not marry you unless she +gives you up of her own free will. And, if she does—and if you care for +me still——"</p> + +<p>"Then you will be my wife?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia paused.</p> + +<p>"Then," she said slowly—"then you may, if you like, ask me again. But +then you will perhaps remember that I am a nobody—that I was born in a +cottage and educated at a charity-school—that I—that I——No, I can't +tell you my history now—don't ask me; if you love me at all, don't ask +me that! I will tell you—I promise you—before I marry you, if ever—at +the end of two years—at the end of half a century—you ask me again."</p> + +<p>She was weeping in his arms—she, the brilliant, joyous, successful +woman, with a life of distinction opening out before her, with spirits +and courage that never failed, with beauty and gifts that were capable +of charming all the world—weeping like a child, and in need of comfort +like a child. What could he do?</p> + +<p>"My darling, my own darling," he said, "I cannot bear to hear you speak +so! Do you doubt my love for you, Cynthia? Tell me nothing but what you +please; I shall never ask you a question—never desire to know more than +what you choose to tell. And in two years——Oh, what can I say? Marry +me to-morrow, Cynthia, my dearest, and let everything else go by!"</p> + +<p>"And despise you ever after for yielding to my weakness?" she said, +checking her tears. "Do you think I could bear you to lower yourself for +my sake? No; you shall keep your word to her—to the woman, whoever she +may be, who has your word. But I—I have your heart."</p> + +<p>She sent him away from her then with proud but gentle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> words, caressing +him, flattering him, after the fashion of women with those they love, +but inexorably determined that he should keep his word. For she had a +strong sense of honor and honesty, and she could not bear to think that +he could be false to anyone who trusted him. It was weighing heavily on +her own conscience that she had deceived him once.</p> + +<p>Hubert left her with his senses in a whirl. He knew, as he said, that he +had been weak; but Cynthia's beauty intoxicated him. But for her +determination, her courage, he would have failed to keep up even the +appearance of faith with Enid—he would have been utterly careless of +Enid's trust in him. But this declension Cynthia was resolved not to +permit. It was strange to see what nobleness of mind and generosity of +feeling existed beneath her light and careless demeanor; and while these +characteristics humiliated her lover, they filled him with genuine pride +and admiration. She was not a woman to be lightly wooed and lightly won; +she was worthy of respect, even of reverence. And, as he thought of her, +his heart burned with anger against the innocent girl at Beechfield who +had dared to speak of this noble woman with something very like +contempt.</p> + +<p>Cynthia was glad that she had no public engagement for that evening. She +was invited to go with Madame della Scala to a large party; but she +pleaded a headache, and begged to be allowed to stay at home. Madame +scolded her playfully, but did not oppose her whim; she was sufficiently +proud of her pupil and housemate to let her take her own way—a +practical compliment for which Cynthia was grateful.</p> + +<p>When the old lady had gone, Cynthia returned to her favorite +rose-lighted sitting-room, and sank somewhat languidly into a +lounging-chair. She had forbidden Hubert to return to her that +night—she had said that she wanted to be alone; and now she was half +inclined to repent her own peremptoriness. "I might have let him come +just once," she said to herself. "I shall not allow him to come often, +or to be anything but a friend to me; but I feel lonely to-night. It is +foolish of me to be depressed. A month ago I should have thought myself +happy indeed if I could have known that he loved me; and now I am more +miserable than ever. I suppose it is the thought of that other +girl—mean, jealous, miserable wretch that I am!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> But I will not be mean +or jealous any longer. He has promised himself to her, and he shall keep +his word."</p> + +<p>She was startled from these reflections by the sound of a tap at the +door, followed by the entrance of a maid whose office it was especially +to attend on Miss West.</p> + +<p>"If you please, miss," she said, in a low and rather confidential +tone—"if you please, there's a—a person at the door that asks to see +you."</p> + +<p>"It is late for visitors," said Cynthia. "A lady, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman? I do not see gentlemen, when Madame is out, at this hour +of the night. It is ten o'clock. Tell him to come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I did, miss. He said to-morrow wouldn't do. He asked me to mention +'Beechfield' to you, miss, and to say that he came from America."</p> + +<p>"Old or young, Mary?" The color was leaving Cynthia's face.</p> + +<p>"Old, miss. He has white hair and black eyes, and looks like a sort of +superior working-man."</p> + +<p>Cynthia deliberated. Mary watched her in silence, and then made a +low-voiced suggestion.</p> + +<p>"There's cook's young man in the kitchen, miss, and he's a policeman. +Shall I ask him to step up to the front and tell the man to move on?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!" said Cynthia, suddenly shrinking. "I will see the man, +Mary. I think that perhaps he knows a place—some people that I used to +know."</p> + +<p>There was a sort of terror in her face. Mary turned rather reluctantly +to the door.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come in too, miss, or shall I stand in the passage?"</p> + +<p>"Neither," said Cynthia, with a little laugh. "Go down to your supper, +Mary, and I will manage the visitor. Show him in here."</p> + +<p>She seemed so composed once more that Mary was reassured. The girl went +back to the hall door, and Cynthia rose to her feet with the look of one +who was nerving herself for some terrible ordeal. She kept her eyes upon +the door; but, when the visitor appeared, they were so dim with +agitation that she could hardly see the face or the features of the man +whom Mary decorously announced as—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reuben Dare."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia looked round at her visitor with a sort of timidity which she +did not often exhibit. He was apparently about sixty years of age, +broad-shouldered, and muscularly built, but with a stiffness of gait +which seemed to be either the result of chronic rheumatism or of an +accident which had partially disabled him. His face was brown, his eyes +were dark and bright; but his hair and beard were almost white, although +his eyebrows had not a grizzled tint. He was roughly but respectably +dressed, and looked like a prosperous yeoman or an artisan of the better +class. Cynthia glanced at him keenly, then seemed to gain confidence, +and asked him to sit down. The visitor obeyed; but Cynthia continued +standing, with her hands on the back of a heavy chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reuben Dare?" she said at length, as the old man did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Come straight from Ameriky," said he—he sat bolt-upright on his chair, +and looked at the girl with a steady interest and curiosity which almost +embarrassed her—"and promised to look you up as soon as I got over +here. Can you guess who 'twas I promised, missy?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia grew first red and then white.</p> + +<p>"No," she said; "I am not sure that I can."</p> + +<p>"Is there nobody belonging to you that you haven't heard of for years +and years?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Cynthia; "I think perhaps there is."</p> + +<p>"A man," said Mr. Reuben Dare, leaning forward with his hands on his +knees, and trying to subdue his rather harsh voice to quietness—"a man +as was related to you, maybe?"</p> + +<p>"If you will say what you mean, I think I can answer you better," said +Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I am going to say what I mean until I know what sort of a +young woman you are, and how you'll take the news I bring you?" said the +man.</p> + +<p>With a somewhat savage and truculent air he drew his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> eyebrows down over +his eyes as he spoke; but there was a touch of something else as +well—of stirred emotion, of doubt, of troubled feeling—which +dissipated Cynthia's fears at once. She left the chair which she had +been grasping with one hand, and came closer to her visitor.</p> + +<p>"I see that you are afraid to trust me," she said quickly. "You think +that perhaps I am hard and worldly, and do not want to have anything to +do with my relatives? That is not true. You are thinking—speaking—of +my poor father perhaps. As long as I was a child—a mere girl—I did not +think much about him, I was content to believe what people told me—not +that he was guilty—I never believed that!—but that I could do nothing +for him, and that I had better not interfere. When I was independent and +beginning to think for myself—about six months ago—I found out what I +might have done. Shall I go on to tell you what I did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—go on!" The man's voice was husky; his wrinkled hand trembled +as it lay upon his knee. He watched the girl's face with hungry eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wrote to the Governor of the prison," said Cynthia, "and told him +that I had only just discovered—having been such a child—that I could +write to my father or see him at regular intervals, and that I should +like to do so from time to time. He asked me in return how it was that +an intimation—which had been forwarded, I believe, to certain persons +interested in my welfare—of my father's fate had not been given to me. +My father had, by a desperate effort, succeeded in escaping from +Portland; he had never been recaptured; and, from certain information +received, the authorities believed that he was dead. He added however +that he had a shrewd suspicion that Andrew Westwood had thrown dust into +the eyes of the police, had left the country, and was not dead at all."</p> + +<p>"And begged you to communicate with the authorities if you heard from +him, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No; he did not go so far as that to the man's own daughter," said +Cynthia calmly. "And it would, of course, have been useless if he had."</p> + +<p>"Why—why?"</p> + +<p>"Because," said the girl, her lips suddenly trembling and her eyes +filling with tears—"because I love my father, and would do anything in +the world for him—if he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> let me. Can you not tell me where he is? +I would give all I have to see him once again!"</p> + +<p>Reuben Dare fidgeted in his chair, and half turned his face away. Then, +without meeting her eager tearful eyes, he replied half sullenly—</p> + +<p>"The Governor was right. He got away—away to America."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then he is living still? He is well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—he's living, and well enough! He hasn't done so badly neither. +He got some land and 'struck ile,' as they say in America; and living +under another name, and nobody knowing anything about him—he—well, +he's had fair luck."</p> + +<p>"And you come from him—you are a friend of his? Did he want to hear of +me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, missy, he did. But he would scarce ha' known you if he'd met you +in the street—you, grown so tall and handsome and dressed so fine. It +was your name as gave him the clue—'Cynthia'—'Cynthia West'; for he +read in the papers as you were singing at concerts, and he says to +himself, 'Why, that's my gal, sure enough; and she hain't forgotten her +mother's name!'"</p> + +<p>"Go on!" said Cynthia quickly.</p> + +<p>"Go on? What do you mean?" asked Reuben Dare, a little suspiciously. +"There's nothing more to say, is there? And he asked me to make +inquiries while I was in England—that was all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, that was not all!" said Cynthia, drawing nearer, and holding +out her hands a little, like one under hypnotic influence, fascinated by +a power over which she had no control. "I can tell you the rest. The +more he thought of his child, and the more he remembered how she used to +love him and trust in him, the more he felt that he could not stay away +from her; and so, although the risk was great—terrible—he determined +to come back to England and see with his own eyes whether she was safe +and well. And when he saw her"—there was a sob in her voice—"he said +to himself that perhaps after all she was a hard, unfeeling creature who +had forgotten him, or a wicked, treacherous woman who would betray her +own father, and that he would go away back to America and never see her +again, forgetting to ask whether she had not a heart and a memory too, +and whether it might not be that she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> loved him all her life, and +whether she was not longing to fall upon his neck and kiss his dear +face, and tell him that she wanted a father for many, many dreary years, +and that she trusts him, believes in him, loves him with all her heart! +Oh, father, father!"—and Cynthia lay sobbing on his breast.</p> + +<p>She had thrown herself impulsively on her knees beside him; her arms +were round his neck, and he was covering her face with kisses. He did +not attempt to deny that she had spoken the truth—that he was indeed +her father—the man who had been condemned to death, and whom she had +believed until this moment to be in America, if still indeed alive; but +neither did he try to prove the fact. He sat still, with his arms round +her, and—to her surprise—the tears running down his cheeks as freely +as they were running down her own. She looked up at him at last and +smiled rather piteously in his face.</p> + +<p>"Dear father," she said, "and have you come all this way and run into so +much danger just to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have, Cynthy," said the man who called himself Reuben Dare. "I +said to myself, I can't get on any longer without seeing her, any way. +If that's my girl that sings—as her mother did before her—I shall know +her in a trice. But, bless you, my girl, I didn't—not till you began to +speak! And then t'was just like your mother."</p> + +<p>"Am I so much altered?" said Cynthia wistfully.</p> + +<p>"As much as you ought to be, my beauty, and no more. You ain't like the +skinny little bit of a thing that ran wild round Beechfield lanes; but +then you don't want to be. You're a good deal like your mother; but she +wasn't as dark as you. And, being so different, you see, I thought you +might be different in yourself—not ready to acknowledge your father as +belonging to you at all, maybe; and so I'd try you with a message first +and see what you said to that."</p> + +<p>"You are altered too, father."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my deary, I'm altered too. Hain't I had enough to alter me? +Injustice and oppression have almost broke my heart, and ague and +fever's taken the strength out o' my limbs, and a knock I got in the +States three years ago has nigh crippled me. I'm a broken-down man, with +only strength left for one thing—and that's to curse the hard-hearted +ruffian, whoever he was, that spoiled my life for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> me, and thought to +hang me by the neck or shut me up in prison for the rest of my days. If +ever I could come across him, I'd do my best to make him suffer as I +have suffered. I pray God night and day that He'll let me see that +rascal on his knees to me yet before I die!"</p> + +<p>His voice had grown loud and fierce, his eyes shone beneath the shaggy +eyebrows, his hand shook as he raised it to call down vengeance on the +man who had left him to his fate. Cynthia trembled in spite of her love +for him—the tones, the look, brought back memories which made her feel +that her father was in a great many ways unchanged, and that the wild, +lawless nature of the man might be suppressed but never utterly subdued. +She did not feel the slightest abatement of her love for him on this +account; but it suddenly made her aware of the dangers and difficulties +of his position, and aroused her fears for his safety, even in that +house.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said "are you sure that nobody will remember you?"</p> + +<p>Westwood laughed harshly.</p> + +<p>"They're not likely to know me," he said. "I've taken care to change my +looks since then;" and, by a sudden movement of his hand, he showed her +that hair, beard, and moustache were all fictitious, and that beneath +the silvery exterior there grew a scantier crop of sparse gray hair and +whiskers, which recalled his former appearance much more clearly to his +daughter's mind.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't take them off!" she cried. "Somebody may come in—the door is +not locked! At another time, dear father, you will show me your real +face, will you not?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a mingling of pride and sorrow in his glance.</p> + +<p>"And you ain't wanting me to be found out then—you don't want to give +me up to the police?"</p> + +<p>"Father, how can you think of such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"Some women-folks would think of it, my girl. But you—you're fond of +your father still, Cynthy?"</p> + +<p>She answered by taking his rough hand in her own and kissing it +tenderly.</p> + +<p>"And you don't believe I killed Mr. Vane down at Beechfield—eh, Cynthy? +Because if you believe it, you know, you and me had better part without +more words about it. Least said, soonest mended."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>"I do not believe it—I never did!" said Cynthia proudly.</p> + +<p>"On your word and honor and Bible-oath, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"On my word and honor and on my Bible-oath, father," she said, repeating +the words, because she saw that he attached especial importance to the +formula. "I never believed and never will believe that you were guilty +of Sydney Vane's murder! My father"—she said it as proudly as if he had +been a Royal Prince—"was never capable of a base and wicked deed!"</p> + +<p>"It's her mother's voice," murmured the man, raising his hand to his +eyes, as if to shut out the sight of the young girl's face, and to +abstract himself from everything but the sound, "and it's her mother's +trust in me! Cynthia, my dear, what do you know o' your father to make +you so ready to stand by him?" There was a great and an unaccustomed +tenderness in his tone. "I'm a common man, and I've spent years of my +life in gaol, and I was a tramp and a poacher—I won't deny it—in the +olden days; and before that—well, before that, I was a gamekeeper on a +big estate—turned away in disgrace, my dear, because my master's +daughter fell in love with me. You never heard that before, did +you?—though any one would guess that you didn't come of a common stock! +Wetheral was her name—Cynthia Wetheral of Bingley Park, in +Gloucestershire. There are relatives of hers living there still; but +they don't acknowledge us—they won't have anything to do with you, +Cynthia, my girl. I married her and took her away wi' me; and for twelve +blessed months we were as happy as the day was long; and then she died." +He paused a little, and caressed Cynthia's head with his hand.</p> + +<p>"You're like her, my dear. But I'm only a low common sort o' man that +sunk lower and lower since the day she died; and you've no call to trust +me unless you feel inclined—no call in the very least. If you say you +don't quite believe my word, my pretty, I'll not cut up rough—I'll just +go away quiet, and never trouble you any more."</p> + +<p>"Father," said Cynthia, "listen to me one moment. We were separated when +I was only eleven years old; but don't you think that in eleven years I +could learn something of your real disposition—your true nature? I +remember how you used to care for me, how tender and kind you were to +me, although you might perhaps seem gloomy and morose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> to all the world +beside. I remember your bringing home a dog with a broken leg, and +nursing it till it was cured. You had pets of all kinds—birds, beasts, +flowers. You never did a cruel thing in your life; and how could I think +then, that you would lie in wait to kill a man out of mere spite and +revenge—a man, too, with a wife and a child—a little girl like me? I +knew you better, father, all the time!"</p> + +<p>Westwood shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right," he said, "and maybe wrong. I've seen rough deeds +done in my day, and never lifted a hand to interfere. I won't deny but +what I did lie in wait for Mr. Vane that very afternoon—but with no +thought of murder in my mind. I meant to tell him what my opinion was of +him and of his doings; for there was carryings-on that I didn't approve +of, and it's my belief that in those very carryings-on lies the key of +the mystery. I've thought it all out in prison, slow-like—at nights +when I lay in bed, and days when I was hewing stone. I won't tell you +the story, my pretty; it ain't fit for the likes of you. But there was a +woman mixed up in it; and, if there was any man who had rights over the +woman—sweetheart or husband, brother or father, or such-like—it's in +that quarter that you and me should look for the real murderer of Sydney +Vane."</p> + +<p>"Can't we do anything, father? Won't you tell me the whole story?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, my girl; I must be going."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, father? Will you be in a safe place?"</p> + +<p>"Quite safe, my dear—quite safe! Nobody would know me in this guise, +would they? I'm at No. 119 Isabella Street, Camden Town—quite a little +out-o'-the-way place—just the sort to suit a quiet respectable-looking +man like me." He gave vent to a grim little chuckle as he went on. "They +don't know who they've got hold of, do they? Maybe they wouldn't be +quite so pleased if they did."</p> + +<p>"May I come and see you there, father?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my girl, I think not. Such a—a splendid-looking sort of a party +as you've turned out coming to visit me would make people talk. And we +don't want people to talk, do we? Isn't there any quiet spot where you +and me could meet and walk about a bit? Kensington Gardens; maybe, or +Regent's Park?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>Cynthia thought that Kensington Gardens would be quiet enough in the +morning for their purpose, and it was agreed that they should meet there +the next day at noon. Westwood's disguise was so perfect that he did not +attempt to seclude himself during the day.</p> + +<p>"And then," he said, "we can talk about you coming over to Ameriky, and +living happy and quiet somewhere with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't leave England!" said Cynthia, with a sudden little gasp. +"Don't ask me, father; I can't possibly go away."</p> + +<p>He looked at her keenly and scrutinisingly for a moment, and then he +said—</p> + +<p>"That means that you've got a reason for wanting to stop in England. +That means that you've got a sweetheart—a lover, my pretty—and that +you won't leave him. I know the ways of women well enough. I don't want +to force you, my girl; but I hope that he's worthy of the woman you've +grown to be. Tell me his name."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia's father did not get his question answered, because at that +moment a thundering knock at the front-door announced the return of +Madame, and there was rather a hasty struggle to get him away from the +house without encountering that lady's sharp eyes and vivacious +questioning, which Cynthia was not at all sure that he could meet with +equanimity. For herself she felt at that moment equal to any struggle +involving either cunning or courage. She could combat to death for one +she loved.</p> + +<p>"Who was that man, <i>carissima</i>? Why was he here at this hour of the +night? You are a little imprudent, are you not, to receive such visitors +without me?" said Madame, having caught a glimpse of the intruder's +retiring figure.</p> + +<p>Cynthia laughed.</p> + +<p>"He is venerable, Madame—white-bearded, old, and a relative—an uncle +from America whom I have not seen since I was a child. I believe that he +has made a fortune and wants to endow me with it. We shall see!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>"Ah, my angel, if he would do that," cried Madame cheerfully, "we would +welcome him at any hour of the day or night, would not we? Bid him to +dinner with thee, little one, or to tea, after thy English fashion—as +thou wilt. The uncle with money is always a desired visitor."</p> + +<p>And thus Cynthia escaped further questioning, although at the cost of an +untruth which she did not consider it her duty to repent. "For surely," +she said to herself, "it is right for a daughter to sacrifice anything +and everything to her father's safety! I was ashamed of having to tell +Hubert what was not true just for my own benefit; but I am not ashamed +of deceiving Madame for my father's sake. I am sorry—ah, yes, I am +sorry! But what can I do?" And in the solitude of her own room Cynthia +wrung her hands together, and shed a few bitter tears over the hardness +and strangeness of her fate.</p> + +<p>To one who knew all the facts of her story and her father's story, it +might indeed have been a matter for meditation that "wrong-doing never +ends"—that, because Sydney Vane had been an unprincipled man and +Florence Lepel a woman without a conscience, therefore a child of whom +they never heard had grown up without the presence of a father's love, +or the innate reverence for truth that prevailed in the heart of a +Jeanie Deans. Cynthia was no Jeanie Deans; she was a faulty but +noble-hearted woman, with a nature that had suffered some slight warping +from the effect of adverse circumstance.</p> + +<p>Cynthia and her father met the next morning under the spreading branches +of the trees in Kensington Gardens; and there, as they walked up and +down together, Westwood unfolded his plans. From what he let +slip—although he tried not to be too definite—it was evident that he +had made considerable sums of money, or what he thought such; and he +wanted Cynthia to give up working, and "go West" with him. He assured +her that she should have every comfort, every luxury; that he was likely +to make more and more money as time went on, and that he might even +become a millionaire. Would she not partake of the magnificence that was +in store for her? But Cynthia shook her head. And then he spoke of his +loneliness, of his long absence from his only child, and his desire to +have a home of his own; now that he began to feel the infirmities of +age, he not only wanted a daughter as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> an ornament to his house, but as +the prop of his declining years. And at this Cynthia shed tears and +began to waver. Ought she not to go with her father? she asked herself. +It might be better for Hubert, as well as for her, if she went away; +and, even if at the end of two years she became Hubert's wife, she would +at any rate have had two years with her father. And, if Hubert married +"the other girl," she would stay with her father until his life's +end—or hers. But the fact remained at the end of all arguments—she did +not want to go.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to stay in England for?" Westwood said at length. "Is +it to make money? I've got enough for both of us. Is it to sing in +public? You'll get bigger audiences over there, my girl. If you love +your old father as you say you do, why won't you come along with him?" +He paused, and added, almost in a whisper, "Unless there's somebody you +like better, I don't see why you want to stay."</p> + +<p>Cynthia's face turned crimson immediately. Her father's words made her +feel very guilty. She loved him—true; but she loved Hubert better, and +she had not known it until that moment. She knew it thoroughly now.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Westwood, in a peculiarly dogged tone, "I see what's up. +Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"He is a very clever man, father," said Cynthia, keeping her hot face +away from him as much as possible—"a literary man; he writes plays and +novels and poetry. He is thought a great deal of in London."</p> + +<p>"As poor as a rat, and wants you to keep him. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, indeed, father! He makes a great deal of money. It was he who +sent me to Italy to study music; he paid for me to live where I do, with +Madame della Scala."</p> + +<p>They were in a quiet part of the Gardens, and her father suddenly laid +an iron grip upon her wrist.</p> + +<p>"Look at me," he burst out—"tell me the truth! You—you ain't—you +ain't bound to him in any way?" He dare not, after all, put his sudden +suspicion into plainer words. "It's all fair and square? He's asked you +to be his wife, and not——"</p> + +<p>Cynthia wrenched away her arm.</p> + +<p>"I did not think that my own father would insult me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> she said, in a +voice which, though low, vibrated with anger. "I am quite well able to +take care of my own honor and dignity; and Mr. Lepel would never dream +of assailing either."</p> + +<p>Then she broke down a little, and a few tears made their way over the +scarlet of her cheeks; but of these signs of distress her father took no +notice. He stood still in the middle of the path down which they had +been walking, and repeated the name incredulously.</p> + +<p>"'Lepel'! 'Lepel'! Is that your sweetheart's name?"</p> + +<p>"'Hubert Lepel.' It is a well-known name," said Cynthia, with head +erect.</p> + +<p>"Hubert Lepel! Not the man at Beechfield, the cousin of those Vanes?" He +spoke in a whisper, with his eyes fixed on his daughter's face.</p> + +<p>Cynthia turned very pale.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Oh, it can't be the same," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's not likely that there are two men of the same name. He was a +cousin of the man who was killed, I tell you; and he was the +brother—the brother——" Suddenly Westwood stopped short; his eyes fell +to the ground, his breathing quickened; he thrust his hands into his +pockets and frowned heavily as he reflected. "Have I got a clue?" he +said, more to himself than to Cynthia. "He's the brother of that +woman—the woman that Sydney Vane used to meet in the wood so often, and +thought that nobody knew. Did he—did he——" But, raising his eyes +suddenly, he saw the whiteness of Cynthia's face, and did not finish his +question. "Listen to me!" he said, with sudden sternness. "This man +belongs to them that put me in prison and believe me to have murdered +Sydney Vane. Do you understand that, girl?"</p> + +<p>"Father, he would trust you—he would believe in you—if once he saw you +and talked to you."</p> + +<p>"So you mean to betray me to him, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Father—dear father!"</p> + +<p>"If you say a word to him about my being in England, Cynthia, you may +just as well put a rope round my neck or give me a dose of poison. For +buried alive at Portland I never will be again!"</p> + +<p>"He would no more betray you, father, than——"</p> + +<p>"Promise me that you'll not breathe a word to him about me!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>"I promise."</p> + +<p>"And swear?"</p> + +<p>"I swear, father—not until you give me leave."</p> + +<p>"I shall never give you leave. Do you want to kill me, Cynthia? I'd +never have thought it of you after all you said! Come, my girl, you +needn't cry; I did not mean to suspect you; but I'm so used to being on +my guard. Does he know whose daughter you are?"</p> + +<p>"No, father."</p> + +<p>"You haven't dared to tell him, and yet you wanted to put my safety in +his hands!"</p> + +<p>"I am sure he is too kind, too noble, to think of betraying any one!" +Cynthia pleaded; but her father would not hear.</p> + +<p>"Tut! If he thinks I murdered his cousin, he wouldn't feel any +particular call to be kind to me, I guess. I should like to understand +all about this affair, Cynthia. Come, sit down on this bench here under +the trees, and tell me about it. Don't vex yourself over what I said; I +was but carried away by the heat of the moment. Now are you promised to +this Mr. Lepel—engaged to him, as you young folk call it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I can tell you anything, father," murmured +Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"You'd better," said Westwood quietly, "because it hangs on a thread +whether I ain't going to denounce Mr. Lepel as the man that killed Mr. +Sydney Vane. I never thought of him before, although I did see him at +the trial and knew that he'd been hanging round the place. He was her +brother, sure enough—he had a motive. Well, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"Father, if you are thinking such terrible things of Hubert, how can I +tell you anything? You know I—I love him; if you accuse him of a crime, +I shall cling to him still—and love him still—and save him if I can."</p> + +<p>"At your father's expense, girl?"</p> + +<p>She writhed at the question, and twisted her fingers nervously together, +but did not speak. Westwood waited for a minute or two, and then +resumed—this time very bitterly.</p> + +<p>"It's always so! The lover always drives the parent out of the young +folks' hearts. For this man—that you haven't known more than a few +months, I suppose—you'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> give up your father to worse than the +gallows—to the misery of a life sentence—and be glad, maybe, to see +the last of him! If it was him or me, you would save him—and perhaps +you're in the right of it. I wish," said the man, turning away his +face—"I wish to God that I'd never come back to England, nor seen the +face of my girl again!"</p> + +<p>Cynthia had been physically incapable hitherto of stemming the flow of +his words; but now, although she was trembling with excitement and +sorrow and indignation, she answered her father's accusation resolutely.</p> + +<p>"You are wrong, father. I will not sacrifice you to him. But you must +not expect me to sacrifice him to you either. My heart is large enough +to hold you both."</p> + +<p>There was a pathos in the tone of her last few words which impressed +even Westwood's not very plastic nature. He turned towards her, noting +with half-unconscious anxiety the whiteness of the girl's lips, the +shadow that seemed to have descended upon her eyes. He put out his rough +hand and touched her daintily gloved fingers.</p> + +<p>"Don't be put out by what I say, my girl! If I speak sharp, it's because +I feel deep. I won't be hard on any one you care for, I give you my +word; but it'll be the best thing for you to be fair and square with me +and tell me all about him. Are you going to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"He wishes to marry me," said Cynthia, yielding, with a sigh; "but there +has been an arrangement—a sort of family arrangement, I understand—by +which he must—ought to marry a young lady in two years, when she is +twenty or twenty-one, if she consents and if she is strong enough. She +is ill now, and she does not seem to care for him. That is all I know. I +have promised to marry him if he is free at the end of the two years."</p> + +<p>It sounded a lame story—worse, when she told it, than when she had +discussed it with Hubert Lepel or wept over it in her own room. Westwood +uttered a growl of anger.</p> + +<p>"And you're at his beck and call like that! He is to take you or leave +you as he pleases! Pretty state of matters for a girl like you! Why, +with your face and your pretty voice and your education, I should think +that you could have half Lunnon if you chose!"</p> + +<p>"Not I," said Cynthia, laughing with a little of her old spirit—"or, if +I had, it would be the wrong half, father.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> Besides, Mr. Lepel is not to +blame. He—he would marry me to-morrow, I believe, if I would allow it; +it was I that arranged to wait. I would rather wait. Why should I marry +anybody before I have seen the world?"</p> + +<p>"Where does Mr. Lepel live, Cynthy?" said Westwood slowly, as if he had +not been attending very much to what she said.</p> + +<p>Cynthia hesitated; then she gave him Hubert's address. She knew that her +father could easily get it elsewhere, and that it would only irritate +him if she refused. Besides, she had too much confidence in her lover to +think that harm could come of her father's knowledge of the place in +which he lived. But she was a little surprised when her father at once +stood, up and said, with his former placidity of tone—</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my dear, I'm a-going round to look at Mr. Lepel. I'm not +going to harm him, nor even maybe to speak to him; but I want to have a +little look at him before I see you again. And then I shall maybe go out +of town for a bit. There are one or two places I want to look at again. +So you needn't be surprised if you don't hear from me again just yet a +while. I'll write when I come back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, you will not run into any danger, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, my dear. There's not a soul on earth would know me as I am +now. Don't you be afraid! I'll walk back with you to the gate, and, then +we'd better say good-bye. If you want anything special, write to +me—Reuben Dare, you know—at the address I gave you; but even then, my +girl, don't you mention names. It's a dangerous thing to do on paper."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember," said Cynthia, with unwonted submissiveness.</p> + +<p>They parted at the gate, and Westwood, without looking round, went some +paces in the easterly direction which he had chosen to take. But all at +once he heard a light footstep behind him, and a small gloved hand was +laid upon his arm. It was Cynthia, slightly flushed and panting a +little, her eyes unusually bright. She ran after him with a last word to +say.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "you will remember, will you not, that, although I +love him, I love you too?"</p> + +<p>"Do you, Cynthia?" said the man, rather sadly. "Well, maybe—maybe."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>"And that you are to take care of yourself for my sake?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? For your sake? Yes, my dear—yes."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, dear father!"</p> + +<p>He nodded simply in reply; but, as he pursued his way eastward, his +heart grew softer towards his child's lover than it would otherwise have +been. How beautiful she had looked with those flushed cheeks and shining +eyes! What was he that he should interfere with her happiness? If the +man that she loved was good and true why should he not marry her, +although he was a kinsman of the Vanes and the brother of a woman whom +Westwood held in peculiar abhorrence? For accident had revealed to him +many years before the relation between Sydney Vane and Florence Lepel, +and she had seemed to him then and ever since to be less of a woman than +a fiend. Yet, being somewhat slow in drawing conclusions, he had never +associated her or her brother with Mr. Vane's death, until, in the +solitude of his cell, he had laboriously "put two and two together" in a +way which had not suggested itself either to himself or to his defenders +at the time of the trial. He himself, from a strange mixture of delicate +feeling and gruff reserve, had not chosen to tell what he knew about +Miss Lepel and Sydney Vane; and only when it was too late did it occur +to him that his silence had cost him his freedom, and might have cost +him his life. He saw it all clearly now. It was quite plain to him that +in some way or other Mr. Vane's death had been caused through his +unfaithfulness to his wife. Some one had wished to punish him—some +friend of hers, some friend of Miss Lepel's. Right enough he deserved to +be killed, said Westwood to himself, as he elaborated his theory. If +only the slayer, the avenger, had not refused to take the responsibility +of his act upon his own shoulders! "If only he hadn't been cur enough;" +Westwood muttered to himself, as he went along the London streets, "to +leave me—a poor man, a common man, that only Cynthia loved—to bear the +blame!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + + +<p>When Hubert Lepel quitted Beechfield, a sudden calm, almost a stagnation +of interest, seemed to fall upon the place. Mrs. Vane was said to be +"less strong" than usual; the spring weather tried her; she must be kept +quiet, the doctor said, and, if possible, tranquil in mind.</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul, isn't she tranquil in mind?" the General had almost +shouted, when Mr. Ingledew gave this opinion. "What else can she be? She +hasn't a single thing to worry her; or, if she has, she has only to +mention it and it will be set right at once."</p> + +<p>The village doctor smiled amiably. He was a pale, thin, dark little man, +with insight rather in advance of his actual knowledge. He would have +been puzzled to say why he had jumped to the conclusion that Mrs. Vane's +mind was not quite tranquil; but he was sure that it was not. Possibly, +he was influenced by the conviction that it ought not to be tranquil; +for, in the course of his visits among the villagers, he had heard some +of the ugly rumors about Flossy's past, which were more prevalent than +Mrs. Vane herself suspected and than the General ever had it in his +power to conceive.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he said—for Mr. Ingledew was always very deferential to +the Squire of the parish—"what I meant was more perhaps that Mrs. Vane +requires perfect freedom from all anxiety for the future than that she +is suffering from uneasiness of mind at present. Possibly Mrs. Vane is a +little anxious from time to time about Master Dick, who is not of a +particularly robust constitution, or perhaps about Miss Vane, who does +not strike me as looking exactly what I should call 'the thing.'"</p> + +<p>"No—does she, Ingledew?" said the General, diverted at once from the +consideration of his wife's health to that of his niece. "She's pale and +peaky, is she not? Have you seen her to-day?"</p> + +<p>"H'm—not professionally," replied Mr. Ingledew, rubbing his chin. "In +point of fact, Mrs. Vane intimated to me that Miss Vane refused to see +me—to see a doctor at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> all. I am sorry, for Miss Vane's own sake, as I +think that she is not looking well at present—not at all well."</p> + +<p>"There she goes!" cried the General. "We'll have her in, and hear what +all this is about. Enid, Enid—come here!"</p> + +<p>He had seen her in the conservatory, which ran along one side of the +house. He and Mr. Ingledew were sitting in the library, and through its +half-open glass door he had caught sight of the girl's white gown +amongst the flowers. She turned instantly at his call.</p> + +<p>"Did you want me, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. You are not looking well, Enid; we are concerned about you," +said the General, going up to her and taking her by the hand. "Why do +you refuse to see a doctor, my dear child?"</p> + +<p>"But I have not refused, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Oh—er—Mr. Ingledew——"</p> + +<p>"I understood from Mrs. Vane," said the doctor, "that you did not wish +for medical advice, Miss Vane."</p> + +<p>Enid colored a little, and was silent for a moment; then she answered, +in her usual gentle way—</p> + +<p>"I had some disinclination a few days ago to consult a doctor, and +perhaps Mrs. Vane has accidentally laid more stress upon my saying so +than I intended. But I am quite willing—now—to consult Mr. Ingledew a +little."</p> + +<p>She sank into a chair as if she were very tired, and for a moment closed +her eyes. Her face was almost colorless, and there were violet tints on +her eyelids and her lips. Mr. Ingledew looked at her gravely and knit +his brows. He knew well that her explanation of Mrs. Vane's words was +quite insufficient. Mrs. Vane had sweetly and solemnly assured him that +she had begged "dear Enid" to see a doctor—Mr. Ingledew or another—and +that she had firmly refused to do so, saying that she felt quite well. +Enid's words did not tally with Mrs. Vane's report at all. The doctor +knew which of the two women he would rather believe.</p> + +<p>The General walked away, leaving the patient and the medical man +together. At the close of the interview, which did not last more than a +few minutes, Enid rose with a weary little smile and left the room. The +General came back to Ingledew.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ingledew?"—Mr. Ingledew looked grave.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>"I should not say that there was anything very serious," he said; "but +Miss Vane certainly requires care. She suffers from palpitation of the +heart and faintness; her pulse is intermittent; she complains of nausea +and dizziness. Without stethoscopic examination I cannot of course be +sure whether there is anything organically wrong; but I should +conclude—judging as well as I can without the aid of auscultation—that +there was some disturbance—functional disturbance—of the heart."</p> + +<p>"Heart! Dear, dear—that's very serious, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not necessarily so! It may be a mere passing derangement produced +by indigestion," said the doctor prosaically. "I will come in again +to-morrow and sound her. I hope it is nothing more than a temporary +indisposition." And so Mr. Ingledew took his leave.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vane didn't want me to see her!" he said, as he left the house. "I +wonder why?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Enid, passing out into the hall, had been obliged to stand +still once or twice by reason of the dizziness that threatened to +overcome her. She leaned against the wall until the feeling had gone +off, and then dragged herself slowly up the stairs. She had suffered in +this way only for the last week or two—since Hubert went away. At first +she had thought that the warm spring weather was making her feel weak +and ill; but she did not remember that it had ever done so before. She +had generally revived with the spring, and been stronger and better in +the warmth and sunshine of summer. She could not understand why this +spring should make her feel so ill. She went into her own room and lay +down flat on the bed. She had the sensation of wishing to sink deeper +and deeper down, as if she could not sink too low. Her heart seemed to +beat more and more slowly; each breath that she drew was an effort to +her. She wondered a little if she was going to die.</p> + +<p>Presently she heard somebody enter the room. She was not strong enough +to turn her head; but she opened her eyes and saw her maid Parker +standing beside her bed and regarding her with alarm.</p> + +<p>"Law, miss, you do look bad!" she said.</p> + +<p>Enid's white lips moved and tears trembled on her eyelashes; but she did +not speak. Parker, seriously alarmed, hastened to procure +smelling-salts, brandy, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> eau-de-Cologne, and, with a few minutes' +care, these applications produced the desired result. Enid looked a +little less death-like; she smiled as she took a dose of brandy and +sal-volatile, and moved her fingers towards the woman at her side. +Parker did not at first know what she wanted, but discovered at last +that the girl wanted to hold her hand. Contact with something human +seemed to help to bring her back from the shadowy borderland where she +had been wandering. Parker, astonished and confused, wanted to draw away +her hand; but the small cold fingers closed over it resistlessly. Then +the woman stood motionless, holding a vinaigrette in her free hand, and +looking at the pale face on the pillow, at the pathetic blue eyes which +sought her own from time to time as if in want of pity. Something made +Parker's heart beat fast and the hot tears came into her hard, dark +eyes. She had never felt any particular fondness for Miss Enid before; +but somehow that mute appeal, that silent claiming of sympathy and help, +made the woman who had spent the last few weeks in dogging her footsteps +and spying out her secrets bitterly regret the bondage in which her past +life had placed her.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel better now, miss?" she asked, in an unusually soft tone, +presently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you, Parker; but don't go just yet."</p> + +<p>Parker stood immovable. Secretly she began to long to get away. She was +afraid that she should cry if she stayed there much longer holding +Enid's soft little white hand in hers.</p> + +<p>"Parker," said Enid presently, "were you in your room last night soon +after I went to bed?" The maid slept in the next room to that of her +young mistress.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss—at least, I don't know what time it was."</p> + +<p>"It was between nine and ten o'clock when I went to bed. Did you see +anybody—any one all in white—come into my room after I was in bed? If +your door was open, you might have seen any one pass."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, miss, one would think that you was speaking of a ghost! +No, I didn't see anybody pass."</p> + +<p>"I thought, perhaps," said Enid rather faintly, "that it might be Mrs. +Vane coming to see how I was, you know. She has a loose white wrapper, +and she often throws a white lace shawl over her head when she goes down +the passages."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>"You must have been dreaming, miss," said Parker. She found it easier to +withdraw her hand now that the conversation had taken this turn.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must," said Enid, in a scarcely audible tone. Then she +turned away her face and said, "You can go now, Parker; I feel better. I +think that I shall go to sleep."</p> + +<p>But she did not sleep even when Parker had departed. She lay thinking, +with the tears gathering and falling one by one, until they made a great +wet spot on the pillow beneath her head. The shadow that hung over her +young life was growing very dark.</p> + +<p>Parker had hurried into her own room, where she first shut and locked +the door, as if afraid to think even while it was open, and then wrung +her hands in a sort of agony.</p> + +<p>"To think of it—to think of it!" she said, bursting into sudden sobs. +"And Miss Enid so sweet and innocent and gentle! What has she done? What +has she got to be put out of the way for? Just for the sake of the +money, I suppose, that it may all go to that wretched little Master +Dick! Oh, she's a wicked woman—a wicked woman; and I'd give my life +never to have set eyes upon her, for she'll be the ruin of me body and +soul!"</p> + +<p>But "she" in this case did not mean Enid Vane.</p> + +<p>Parker was aroused from her meditations by the sharp tinkle of a bell, +which she knew that Mrs. Vane must have rung. She started when she heard +it, and a look of disgust crossed her face; but, as she hesitated, the +bell rang again, more imperiously than ever. Parker dashed the tears +from her eyes, and sped down the long corridor to Mrs. Vane's +dressing-room. Her hands were trembling still.</p> + +<p>"Why do you keep me in this way when I ring for you, Parker?" said Mrs. +Vane, in her coldest tone. "I rang twice."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane wanted me, ma'am. I have been with her."</p> + +<p>There was an odd tremor in the woman's voice. Mrs. Vane surveyed her +critically.</p> + +<p>"You look very strange, Parker. What is the matter with you? Are you +ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am; but Miss Vane is."</p> + +<p>Flossy grew a shade paler and looked up. She was still in her +dressing-gown—white, edged everywhere with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> costly lace—and her fair +hair was hanging loose over her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Ill? What is the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"I—I thought perhaps you would know, ma'am," said Parker desperately. +Then, afraid of what she had said, she turned to a drawer, pulled it +open, and began ransacking it diligently. From the momentary silence in +the room she felt as if her shaft had gone home; but she dared not look +round to see.</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean, Parker?" said Mrs. Vane, after that one dead +pause, which said so much to her maid's suspicious ears; the chill +disdain in her voice was inimitable. "How can I tell you what is the +matter with Miss Vane when I have not seen her since dinner-time +yesterday? She was well enough then—at least, as well as she has been +since this trying weather began."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you see her last night, ma'am, when you went to her room about +eleven o'clock?" said Parker, trying to assume a bolder tone, but +failing to hide her nervousness.</p> + +<p>Again a short but unmistakable pause.</p> + +<p>"No, I did not," said Mrs. Vane drily. "I listened at the door to see if +she was asleep, but I did not go in."</p> + +<p>"She seems to have been dreaming that you did, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Vane, a little hurriedly. "You should not +attend to all her fancies, Parker. You know that she has very odd +fancies indeed sometimes. The shock of her father's death when she was a +child had a very injurious effect upon her nerves, and I should never be +surprised at anything that she chose to do or say. Pray don't get into +the way of repeating her words, or of imagining that they must +necessarily be true!"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," said Parker submissively.</p> + +<p>Evidently there was nothing more for her to say. Well, perhaps she had +put her mistress on her guard.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by-the-bye, Parker! There are two dresses of mine in the +wardrobe—the brown one and the silk—that you can do what you like +with. And I was thinking of sending a little present to your mother. You +may take this purse—there are seven pounds in it; send it to her from +me, if you like, as a little acknowledgment of your faithful service. +And, if—if there is anything else that I can do for her, you need only +mention it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said Parker, but without enthu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>siasm. "I don't know +as there's anything that she wants at present."</p> + +<p>"Take the purse," said Flossy impatiently; "and then go away and come +back when I ring. I won't have my hair brushed just now. Is Miss Vane +better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am—she's better now." And Parker went away, knowing very well +that she had been bribed to hold her tongue.</p> + +<p>But after that interview she noticed that Enid seemed to recover tone +and strength, that for a few succeeding days she was more like herself +than she had been of late, and that the symptoms of faintness and +palpitation which she had mentioned to Mr. Ingledew disappeared. Parker +nodded mysteriously as she remarked on these facts to herself, and +thought that for once her interference had had a good effect.</p> + +<p>She had lately found less to report concerning Miss Vane's movements +than before Mr. Lepel's visit; for Enid's ministrations amongst the poor +had been almost entirely brought to a close, on the ground that close +cottages and the sight of suffering must necessarily be bad for her +health. Accordingly she had gone less and less to the village, and had +seen almost nothing of Mr. Evandale. Parker, being thus less often "on +duty," found more time than usual for her own various scraps of +business, and took occasion one evening to run out to the post-office +when all the family were at dinner; and while at the post-office she +noticed a stranger in the village street—a highly respectable, +venerable-looking old man with picturesque white hair and beard.</p> + +<p>"That's Mr. Dare, who's a-stayin' at the inn," said the postmistress to +Parker, who was a person of considerable importance in village eyes. +"Such a nice old gentleman! He comes from America, where they say he's +made a fortune, and he's very liberal with his money."</p> + +<p>So good a character interested Parker at once in Mr. Dare. She felt +quite flattered when, in passing down the lane, she was accosted by the +gentleman in question, who pulled off his hat to her politely, and asked +her whether she could tell him if Mr. Lepel was likely to visit +Beechfield Hall in the course of a week or two.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said Parker. "Why, yes, sir—I heard yesterday that he was +coming down next Saturday, just for a day or two, you know."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>"I used to know a Mr. Lepel once," said the stranger, "and he did me a +kindness. If this is the same, I'd like to thank him before I go. I +heard him mentioned up at the 'Crown' yonder and wondered whether I +could find out."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it's the same—he's always a very kind gentleman," quoth +Parker, remembering the half-crowns that Hubert had many a time bestowed +on her.</p> + +<p>"Fair, isn't he?" said Mr. Dare. "That was my Mr. Lepel—fair and short +and stout and a nice little wife and family——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no—that isn't our Mr. Lepel!" said Parker, with disdain. +"He's tall and very dark and thin; and, as to being married, he's +engaged to Miss Vane of Beechfield Hall, or as good as engaged, I know; +and they're to be married when she's out of her teens, because the +General, her uncle, won't consent to it before."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the stranger, "you're right; that's not the gentleman I know. +Engaged, is he? And very fond of the young lady, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Worships the very ground she treads upon!" said Parker. She would have +thought it <i>infra dig.</i> to allow for one moment that Miss Enid did not +meet with her deserts in the way of adoration. "He's always coming down +here to see her. And she the same! I don't think they could be happy +apart. He's just devoted!"</p> + +<p>"And that," said Reuben Dare to himself, "is the man who makes my girl +believe that he is fond of her!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + + +<p>Hubert was sadly puzzled by Cynthia's manner to him at this time. She +seemed to have lost her bright spirits; she was grave and even +depressed; now and then she manifested a sort of coldness which he felt +that he did not understand. Was this the effect of his confession to her +that he had pledged his faith before he lost his heart? She had shown no +such coldness when he told her first; but perhaps reflection had changed +her tone. He began by trying to treat her ceremoniously in return; but +he found it a difficult task. He had never been on very cere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>monious +terms at all with her, and to begin them now, when she had acknowledged +that she loved him and he had kissed her ripe red lips—he said to +himself that it was absurd.</p> + +<p>He did not cease his visits to Madame della Scala's house, nor try to +set up an artificial barrier between himself and his love. Why then +should she? He would not have this coldness, this conventionality of +demeanor, he told himself; and yet he hardly knew how to beat it down. +For he certainly had no right to demand that she should treat him as her +lover when he was engaged—or half engaged—to marry Enid Vane.</p> + +<p>He came one evening in May, and found her on the point of starting for a +<i>soirée</i> where she was to sing. She was <i>en grande tenue</i> for the +occasion, dressed, after an old Venetian picture, in dull red brocade, +point-lace, and gold ornaments. He had given her the ornaments +himself—golden serpents with ruby eyes—which she had admired in a +jeweller's window. But for the rest of her dress she was in no wise +indebted to him; she had been making money lately, and could afford +herself a pretty gown.</p> + +<p>She received him, he thought, a little coolly—perhaps only because +Madame della Scala was sitting by—gave him the tips of her fingers, and +declared that she must go almost immediately. It turned out that he was +bound for the same place; and Madame at once asked him to escort them +thither—the carriage would be at the door at half-past nine o'clock.</p> + +<p>"I shall be only too happy," said Mr. Lepel, "if you will allow me such +an honor. And, in the meantime, it is not yet nine o'clock, Cynthia; so, +in spite of your impatience, you cannot start quite 'immediately.' What +is there so attractive at the Gores' this evening that you wish to set +off so early?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—I did not know the time!" said Cynthia.</p> + +<p>She did not reply jestingly, after her usual fashion; she sat down +languidly, and spread her heavy skirts around her so as to make a sort +of silken barrier between herself and Hubert. He bit his lip a little as +he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"Our little bird is not quite herself," said Madame, with a side grimace +at Hubert which she did not want Cynthia to see. "She has what our +neighbors call '<i>la migraine</i>,' monsieur. She has never been well since +the return of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> old uncle from America, whose fortune—if he has a +fortune—does not seem likely to do any of us any good—her least of +all."</p> + +<p>Cynthia lowered her head a little and darted a sudden and fierce glance +at her teacher and chaperon—a glance of which Hubert guessed the +meaning. She had never mentioned this "uncle from America" to him; +probably she had told Madame not to do so either, and the little Italian +lady had broken her compact.</p> + +<p>Madame della Scala laughed and spread out her hands deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chè, chè</i>—what is it I have done to make you look so fierce at me? I +will leave her to you, Mr. Lepel, and trust you to make her tractable +before we reach the house where we are to sing. For the last few days I +have not known how to content <i>la signorina</i> at all; she has twice +refused to sing when refusal meant—well, two things—loss of money and +offence of friends. Those are two things which I do not like at all."</p> + +<p>So saying, Madame, with a fan outstretched before her like a palm-leaf, +moved towards the door; but Cynthia intercepted her.</p> + +<p>"Madame, do not go!" she cried. "Indeed I am sorry! Do not make Mr. +Lepel think that I have been behaving so like a petted child. I will do +what you wish henceforward—I will indeed! Do not go, or I shall think +that you are angry with me!"</p> + +<p>"Angry with you, <i>carissima</i>? Not one bit!" said Madame, touching the +girl's hot cheek with the end of her dainty fan. "Not angry, only a +little—little tiny bit disappointed! But what of that? I forgive you! +Genius must have its moods, its freaks, its passions. But calm yourself +now, for Heaven's sake, or we shall be in bad voice to-night! I am just +going to my room to get my scent-bottle; I will return immediately;" and +Madame escaped.</p> + +<p>Hubert was delighted with the little lady's man[oe]uvre, designed, as he +knew, to leave him alone with Cynthia. As for Cynthia, she gave one +scared look round, as if she dreaded to meet his eyes, then dropped into +the nearest chair and placed one hand over her face. He thought that she +was crying.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, my darling, what is all this?" he said approach<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>ing her. "My +dearest, you are not happy! What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she answered, dashing away a tear and letting her hand fall +into her lap—"nothing indeed!"</p> + +<p>"But you are not—as Madame says—quite like yourself."</p> + +<p>"I know; I am very cross and disagreeable," said Cynthia, with a +resolute assumption of gaiety. "I always had a bad temper; and it is +well perhaps that you should find it out."</p> + +<p>Without speaking, he bent his head to kiss her; but she drew back.</p> + +<p>"No!" she said, with decision. "No, Hubert—Mr. Lepel, I mean—that will +not do!"</p> + +<p>"What, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"We are not engaged. We are really nothing to each other; I was wrong to +forget that before."</p> + +<p>"This is surely a new view on the subject, Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is the view I have taken ever since I thought it over. We will +be friends, if you like—I will always be your friend"—and there came +over her face an indescribable expression of yearning and passionate +regret—"but we must remember that I shall be nothing more."</p> + +<p>"Nothing more? Why, my darling, do you forget what you promised me—that +at the end of two years——"</p> + +<p>"If you were free—yes," she interrupted him. "But it was a foolish +promise. You know that you are not likely to be free. You—you knew that +when you told me that you loved me!" She set her teeth and gave him a +look of bitter reproach.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" said Hubert, flushing up to the roots of his +hair. "I told you everything the next morning, Cynthia; and I +acknowledged to you that I loved you only because I thought that I was +too miserable a wretch for you to cast a sigh upon. You have changed +since then—not I."</p> + +<p>Cynthia suddenly rose from her chair.</p> + +<p>"I hear the carriage," she said abruptly; "Madame is at the door. There +is no use in continuing this conversation."</p> + +<p>"No use at all," said Hubert, who by this time was not in the best of +tempers. "Perhaps you would rather that I did not accompany you +to-night, Miss West?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> "Oh, pray come!" said Cynthia, with a heartless +little laugh. "Madame will never forgive me if I deprive her of a +cavalier! It does not matter to me."</p> + +<p>Hubert turned at once to Madame della Scala, and offered her his arm +with the courtesy of manner which she always averred she found in so few +Englishmen, but which he displayed to perfection. Cynthia followed, not +waiting for him to lead her to the carriage. He was about to hand her to +her seat, but she had so elaborately encumbered herself with gloves, +fan, bouquet, and sweeping silken train, that it seemed as if she could +not possibly disentangle her hands in time to receive his help. She took +her seat beside Madame with her usual smiling nonchalance, and the two +ladies waited for Mr. Lepel to take the opposite seat. He took off his +hat and made a sweeping bow.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "I am unfeignedly sorry, but I find that +circumstances will not allow me to accompany you this evening. Will you +pardon me therefore if I decline the honor of the seat you have offered +me?"</p> + +<p>This stately mode of speech was intended to pacify Madame della Scala, +who liked to be addressed as if she were a princess; he knew that she +would be angry enough at his defection. Before she had recovered herself +so far as to speak, he fell back and signed to the coachman to drive on. +They had left him far behind before Madame ceased to vent her +exclamations of wrath, despair, and disappointment.</p> + +<p>"What can he mean by 'circumstances'?" This was the phrase that rose +most frequently to her tongue. "'Circumstances will not allow me'! But +that is nonsense—absolutely nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I think by 'circumstances' he meant me," said Cynthia at last—by which +remark she diverted all Madame's wrath upon her own unlucky head.</p> + +<p>She did not seem to mind however. She looked brilliant that evening, and +she sang her best. There was a royal personage amongst her hearers, and +the royal personage begged to be presented to her, and complimented her +upon her singing. As Cynthia made her little curtsey and smiled her +bright little smile, she wondered what the royal personage would say if +he knew that she was "Westwood, the murderer's daughter." She had been +called so too often in her earliest years ever to forget the title.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>In spite of her waywardness that night, she was woman enough to wish +that Hubert had been there to witness her triumph. She had never +offended him before. She thought that perhaps he would come back, and +darted hasty glances at the throng of smart folk around her, longing to +see his dark face in some corner of the room. But she was disappointed; +he did not come.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss West," said her hostess to her, in the course of the evening, +"do come here one moment! I hope you won't be very much bored; you young +people always like other young people best, I know. But there is a lady +here—an old lady—who is very much impressed by your voice—your +charming voice—and wants to know you; and she is really worth knowing, +I assure you—gives delightful parties now and then."</p> + +<p>"I shall be most happy!" said Cynthia brightly. "I like old ladies very +much; they generally have something to say."</p> + +<p>"Which young men do not, do they? Oh, fie, you naughty girl! I saw you +with young Lord Frederick over there——Dear Miss Vane, this is our +sweet songstress, Miss Cynthia West—Miss Vane. I have just been telling +her how much you admire her lovely singing;" and then the hostess +hurried away.</p> + +<p>Something like an electric shock seemed to pass through Cynthia's frame. +She did not show any trace of emotion, the smile did not waver on her +lips; but suddenly, as she bowed gracefully to the handsome, keen-eyed +old lady to whom she had just been introduced, she saw herself a ragged, +unkempt, savage little waif and stray, fresh from the workhouse, +standing on a summer day upon a dusty road, the centre of a little group +of persons whose faces came back to her one by one with painful +distinctness. There was the old lady—not so wrinkled as this old lady, +but still with the same clearly-cut features, the same sharp eyes, the +same inflexible mouth; there was the child with delicate limbs and +dainty movements, with sweet sympathetic eyes and lovely golden hair, +which Cynthia had passionately admired as she had never admired any +other hair and eyes in the world before; and there was a young man. His +face had hitherto been the one that she thought she remembered best; she +was suddenly aware that she had so idealised and glorified it that its +very fea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>tures had become unreal, and that when she met it in the flesh +in later years it remained unrecognisable. Never once till now had it +been borne in upon her that this hero of her childish dreams and her +present lover were one and the same. It was a terrible shock to her—and +greater even then she knew.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss West," said Miss Leonora +Vane, holding out her hand so cordially that Cynthia could not in common +politeness refuse to take it. "Your singing has delighted everybody—and +myself, I am sure I may say, not least. You have been some time in +Italy, I suppose? Do sit down here and tell me where you studied."</p> + +<p>Cynthia fancied that she heard the same voice telling her what a wicked +girl she was, and that she deserved to be whipped for running away from +the workhouse. She repressed a little shudder, and answered smilingly—</p> + +<p>"You are very kind. Yes, I have studied in Italy."</p> + +<p>"Under Lamperti, I hear. Do you think of coming out in opera next +season? You may always count me among your audience."</p> + +<p>Cynthia remembered how this courteous gentlewoman had once put her hand +over her eyes and declared that the sight of Westwood's daughter made +her ill. The burning sense of injustice that had then taken possession +of the child's soul rose up as strong as ever in the woman. She wished, +in her bitterness, that she were free to rise from her seat and cry +aloud—</p> + +<p>"Yes, look at me—listen to me—for I am Westwood's daughter! I am the +child of a felon and escaped convict, a man whom you call a +murderer—and I am proud of my name!"</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, Miss Vane touched closely upon this subject before +long. She was anxious to know whether Cynthia's name was her own or only +assumed for stage purposes, and managed to put her question in such a +way that it sounded less like impertinence than a manifestation of +kindly interest—which was very clever of Miss Vane.</p> + +<p>"No," said Cynthia coldly, "'West' is not my name exactly; but I prefer +to be known by it at present."</p> + +<p>She had never said as much before; and Miss Vane felt herself a little +bit snubbed, and decided that the new singer had not at all good +manners; but she meant to secure her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> for her next party nevertheless. +She rather prided herself upon her parties.</p> + +<p>To her utter surprise and bewilderment, Miss Cynthia West absolutely +declined to come. She gave no reason except that she thought that she +should before long give up singing in drawing-rooms at all; and she was +not to be moved by any consideration of payment. Miss Vane ventured to +intimate that she did not mind what she paid; but she was met by so +frigid a glance that she was really obliged, in self-defence, to be +silent. She carried away an unpleasant impression of Cynthia West, and +was heard to say afterwards that she could believe anything of that +young woman.</p> + +<p>Cynthia was, however, acknowledged to have made in every other way a +great success. Madame della Scala was delighted with her pupil, and +quite forgot all the little disagreeables of the evening; while Cynthia, +during their drive home, was as charming and as lively as she had ever +been. When the carriage stopped at the quiet little house in Kensington, +the weather had changed, and rain was falling rapidly. One of the +servants was in waiting with an umbrella, ready to give an arm to +Madame, who alighted first. Cynthia followed, scarcely noticing the man +who stepped forward to assist her, until something prompted her suddenly +to look at his face. Then she uttered an inarticulate exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is I," said Hubert. "I have been waiting to help you out. I +don't know how I have offended you; but, whatever it is, forgive me, +Cynthia—I can't bear your displeasure!"</p> + +<p>"Nor I yours," she said, with a sob; and, under the umbrella that he was +holding, she actually held up her face to be kissed.</p> + +<p>Nobody saw the little ceremony of reconciliation. The next moment +Cynthia was in the hall, having her dress shaken out and let down by a +yawning maid's attentive hands, and the coachman had driven off, and the +hall door was shut, and Hubert Lepel was out in the street, with a wall +between him and his love. There were tears in Cynthia's eyes as she went +wearily, her gaiety all departed, up to her room. Nobody suspected that +the charming singer whose gaiety and audacity, as well as her beauty, +had won all hearts that evening passed half the night in weeping on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> the +hard floor—weeping over the fate that divided her from her lover. For +ever since the day that she had learned from her father that Hubert +Lepel was a cousin of the Vanes—more than ever now she knew that he was +the man who had befriended her in her childhood—she felt it to be +utterly impossible that she should marry him until he knew the truth; +and the truth—that she was Westwood's daughter—would, she felt sure, +part him from her for ever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + + +<p>Early in the sweet June morning—sweet and fair although it brooded over +London, the smokiest city in the world—Cynthia was again walking in +Kensington Gardens. She had not gone far before she met her father, with +whom she had made an appointment for that hour.</p> + +<p>"Well, Cynthia, my girl?"</p> + +<p>"I have come, you see, father."</p> + +<p>"I hardly thought you'd get here so soon after your party-going last +night," said her father. "You look pretty tired too. Well, my girl, I +told you I'd been staying down at Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I was terribly anxious about you all the time, father. It was +such a daring thing to do! Suppose any one had suspected you?"</p> + +<p>"Not much fear o' that!" said Westwood, a little scornfully. "Why, look +at me! Am I like the man I was at Beechfield ten years ago? I was a sort +of outcast then, having sunk from bad to worse through my despair when I +lost your mother, Cynthia; but, now that I have a new coat on my back +and money in my pocket, all through my luck in the States, not to speak +of this white hair, which I shall keep to until I'm back in the West +again, I'm a different man, and nobody ever thinks of suspecting me."</p> + +<p>He was different, Cynthia noticed, in more than one respect—he was far +less silent and morose than he used to be. Life in the West had brought +out some unexpected reserves of decision and readiness of speech, and +his success—his luck, as he sometimes called it—had cheered his +spirits. He was defiant and he was often bitter still; but he was no +longer downcast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>"They'd not have much chance if they did suspect me," he said, after a +little pause; "if they thought that they'd got me again, they'd find +their mistake. I'd put a bullet through my head afore ever I went back +to Portland!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, don't speak so!"</p> + +<p>"Come, Cynthy, don't you pretend! You're a brave girl and a spirited +one. Now wouldn't you yourself sooner die than be cooped up in a gaol, +or set to work in a quarry with an armed warder watching you all day +long—wouldn't you put an end to it, I ask you—being a brave girl and +not a namby-pamby creature as hasn't got a will of her own, and don't +know better than to stay where she's put—eh, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"Don't speak quite so loud, father dear," said Cynthia—"there are +people turning round to look at us. I don't know what I should do in +those circumstances; perhaps, as you say, I should think it better to +end it all." She looked aside as she spoke, for her dark eyes had filled +with heavy tears. How she wished at that moment that she could "end it +all" as easily as she said the words! "Sit down for a little time, will +you, father?" she asked. "It is a warm morning, and I am rather tired."</p> + +<p>She had another reason for wishing to sit down. She had observed that +for some time a tall woman in black had been apparently regarding them +with interest, following them at a little distance, slackening and +quickening her pace in accordance with their own. The stranger was +thickly veiled; and, when she saw that Cynthia and her father were +walking towards a vacant seat, she turned in the same direction. There +was nothing to prevent her from sitting down on the same bench, and +either putting a stop to all private conversation or listening to what +they had to say; but Cynthia was equal to the emergency. She turned her +head and gave the woman a long look, half of inquiry, half of disdain, +which seemed to overawe the intruder, who stood by the bench for a +moment rather uncertainly. Then Cynthia touched her father's arm.</p> + +<p>"Do you know this person?" she asked in a low voice, but one so clear +that it must have reached the woman's ears.</p> + +<p>"Know her?" said Westwood, starting and looking suspiciously at the +black figure. "No, I don't know her, unless she's——She's very much +like a person staying with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> my landlady just now—a Miss Meldreth. I +wonder——Shall I speak to her, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>But the woman had already moved from her standing position by the bench, +and was walking away as fast as she could conveniently go. She had fair +hair and a fine figure, but her face could not be seen.</p> + +<p>"It is very like," said Westwood, standing up and staring after her. +"She's been very friendly with me since I came; and I've had tea with +her and Mrs. Gunn more than once. Strange to relate; she comes from +Beechfield too. She's the daughter of old Mrs. Meldreth, who used to +keep the sweetie-shop; don't you remember her?"</p> + +<p>"Then she was watching you—following you! Oh, father, do be careful!"</p> + +<p>"What should she be watching me for?" said Westwood, but with rather a +troubled look upon his face. "I've never had aught to do with her."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear of her at all at Beechfield?"</p> + +<p>"There was a bit of gossip about her and her mother; they said that Mrs. +Vane at Beechfield Hall knew them and was kind to them. Some said that +she paid them; but nobody knew what for."</p> + +<p>"And she is lodging in the same house with you and following you about? +Then I'll tell you what she is, father—she is a spy of the Vanes. She +suspects you and wants to put you in prison again. Oh, father, do change +your lodgings, or go straight back to America! You have been in England +a month, and it is very dangerous. You have nothing to stay +for—nothing; and, if you like"—her voice sank almost to a whisper—"I +will go back with you."</p> + +<p>"Will you, Cynthy? There's my own good girl!" said her father, an +unwonted sense of pleasure beaming in his eyes. "You're one of the right +sort, you are, and you sha'n't regret it. But, as to danger, I don't see +it. There's nobody can recognise me, as you are well aware; and what +else have I to fear?" Cynthia had noted before that he was almost +childishly vain of his disguise. She herself was not disposed to rely +upon it with half so blind a confidence, for she knew how easily the +secrets of "making-up" can be read by an experienced eye. "Besides, Miss +Meldreth was lodging at Mrs. Gunn's before ever I went there—so that's +a pure coincidence. If she'd come after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> I went down to Beechfield, +there might be something in it. But it's an accidental thing."</p> + +<p>"It may be accidental, and yet a source of danger," said Cynthia +anxiously. "I wish you would go back to the States at once, father. I am +quite ready to go. There is nothing to keep me in England now."</p> + +<p>"Why, have you broken off with that young man?" said Westwood sharply.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether." The remembrance of the previous night's kiss under the +umbrella made Cynthia's cheeks burn red as she replied. "But since I +know what you have told me—that he is a relative of the Vanes of +Beechfield—I have determined that it cannot go on. He and his family +would hate me if they knew. I cannot forget the past; I cannot forget +what they did and said; and I do not see how I can marry a man who +unjustly believes that my father was his kinsman's murderer." The fire +came back to her eyes, the firmness to her voice, as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Westwood watched her admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Well spoke, my little girl—well spoke! I didn't think you had it in +you—I didn't indeed! Let him go his way, and let us go ourn. I didn't +tell you all that I might ha' done when I came back from Beechfield the +other day, because I didn't rightly know whether you was with me or +against me."</p> + +<p>"With you—always with you, dear father!"</p> + +<p>"And I was a little doubtful, so to speak, seeing as how you had taken +up, although by accident, with a fellow belonging to the camp of my +enemies. But now I'll tell you a little more. Has Mr. Lepel ever told +you that he had a sister?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, he has; and, what's more, she's married to the old General—you +remember him at Beechfield?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you remember her too—a very fair lady, as used to walk out with +the little girl—Mr. Sydney Vane's little girl?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, at length—"I think I remember her."</p> + +<p>"You've seen the child too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes"—Cynthia's eyes softened; "I am sure I remember her."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>"I'll tell you about her presently. I've got a notion in my head about +these Lepels. Miss Lepel, as was, and Mr. Sydney Vane was in love with +one another and about to run away from England when he was killed. I +know that for a fact, so you needn't look so scared. They was on the +point of an elopement when he died—I knew that all along; but, +stupid-like, I never thought of putting two and two together and +connecting it with his death. It just seemed a pity to throw shame and +blame on the dead, seeing as how there was his wife and child to bear +all the disgrace; and so I held my tongue."</p> + +<p>"But how did you know, father?"</p> + +<p>"By using my eyes and my ears," said Westwood briefly—"that's how I +knew. They used to meet in that little plantation often enough. I've +lain low in a dry ditch more than once when they were close by and heard +their goings-on. They were going off next day, when Mr. Vane met with +his deserts. And what I say is that somebody related to Miss Lepel found +out the truth and shot him like a dog."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not think of all this at the right time? Oh, father, it is +too late now!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. And, as for the gun—well, that often puzzled +me; for I hadn't fired it myself that afternoon, Cynthy, and yet it had +been fired—and that's what made part of the evidence against me. I'd +been out that afternoon, and, coming home, who should I see in the +distance but two or three gentlemen strolling along the road—Mr. Vane +and the General and one or two strangers? Quick as thought, I laid my +gun down and walked on as careless as you please. They met me—you know, +that was a bit of the General's evidence, I looked back when I'd passed +them, and I saw Mr. Sydney Vane separate himself from the other +gentlemen and walk into the plantation. I did not like to go back just +then; and so I waited. There was two or three ways of getting into the +fir plantation, so I don't know who came into it across the fields, as +anybody might have done either from the village or from the Hall. But +presently I heard the report of a gun—two reports, as far as I +remember; and then I saw Miss Lepel flying along the road—and I knew +that she'd been in the plantation, any way. So, after watching a little +while longer, I went back to the wood; and I found my gun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> pretty near +where I had left it—only it had been moved and fired. So I took it up +and walked away home."</p> + +<p>"Without stopping to see whether any one was hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my girl—and that was my mistake. If I'd gone on and found Mr. +Vane and given the alarm and all that, I dare say I should have got off. +But that was my misfortune, and also my hatred to Mr. Vane and his +wicked ways. I says to myself, 'This is no business of yours. Let them +settle it between themselves. I'll not interfere.' So I sort of hardened +my heart and went on my way."</p> + +<p>"Father, perhaps you might have saved a life!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Westwood calmly, "I couldn't have done that. He was shot +clean through the heart. And I'm not sure that I would if I could. He +was a bad man, and deserved his punishment. The only thing I can't +understand is why the man as did it hadn't the pluck to say what he had +done, instead of leaving a poor common man like me to bear the blame."</p> + +<p>"Did you not tell all this to the jury and the counsel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, I did—every word. But who was there to believe me? It +didn't sound likely, you know. And who else was there, as the lawyers +said, that had reason to hate Mr. Vane? Why, if they'd known all I knew, +they would have seen that every honest man would have hated him! But, by +never telling what I knew previous about Miss Lepel, I didn't put 'em on +the right track, you see. I own that now."</p> + +<p>"Father, I see to whom your suspicions point—you said as much to me +before. But I feel sure that Mr. Hubert Lepel is incapable of such a +deed—not only of the murder—for which one could forgive him—but of +letting another bear the blame."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps so, Cynthy. I don't think you would ha' given your heart +to an out-an-out scoundrel—I don't indeed. And Mr. Lepel has a good +sort o' face. I've seen him, and I like him. He looks as if he'd had a +good bit o' trouble somehow; and I daresay it's likely, with a sister +like that on his hands. It's my belief, Cynthia, not that Mr. Lepel, but +his sister, Miss Florence Lepel, as she was then, did the deed and put +the blame on me. And I'm inclined to think as how Mr. Lepel knows it and +wouldn't tell."</p> + +<p>"A woman! Could a woman manage a heavy gun like that?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>"If she was desperate, she could, my dear. It's wonderful what strength +a woman will have when she's in a temper. And maybe Mr. Vane failed her +at the last moment—wouldn't go with her away from England, or something +o' that kind—and she thought she would be revenged on him."</p> + +<p>The theory did credit to Reuben Westwood's imagination; but it was a +mistaken one. At present, however, it seemed sufficiently credible to +give Cynthia much cause for reflection. She did not speak. Westwood gave +his knee a sudden stroke with one hand, expressive of growing amazement, +as he also meditated on the matter.</p> + +<p>"And then for her to go and marry the old man—Sydney Vane's brother! It +beats all that I ever heard of! She must have got nerves of steel and +muscles of iron; she must be the boldest, hardest liar that ever trod +this earth. If I thought that all women was like her, Cynthia, I would +go to the devil at once! But I've known two good ones in my time, I +reckon—your mother and you—and that should p'r'aps be enough for any +man. Yes, she's married and got a child—a little lad that'll have the +estate and prevent the girl from coming to her own—at least, what would +have been her own if there had been no boy."</p> + +<p>"You mean Miss Enid Vane?" said Cynthia, again with a curious softening +of the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, some outlandish name of that sort—'Enid,' is it? Well, you know +better than I. I'm glad you're breaking it off with that man Lepel, +Cynthia, for more reasons than one."</p> + +<p>Cynthia hardly noticed the significance of his tone or the conjunction +of the two names in his remarks. She had something else in her mind +which she was anxious to have said.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am to see Mr. Lepel this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my girl?"</p> + +<p>"And I want to say good-bye to him for ever."</p> + +<p>Westwood nodded; he was well pleased with her decision.</p> + +<p>"And then I will go to America with you whenever you please. But one +thing I want you to allow me to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, Cynthy?"</p> + +<p>"I must tell Mr. Lepel who I am. I will not of course let him think that +I know anything of you now. He shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> not know that you are alive. But I +must do as I please about telling him my own name."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Cynthia," said her father; "do as you like in that matter. I +can trust you with a good deal, and I trust you so far; but don't let +out that you know anything about me now—that I'm alive, and that you +have seen me, or anything of that sort."</p> + +<p>"No, father."</p> + +<p>"I see what you're after," said he, after a pause. "You think he'll give +you up more ready when he knows that you are my daughter—isn't that it? +You may say so open-like; it doesn't hurt me, you know. Of course I can +understand what he will feel. And what's always been hardest to me was +the feelin' that I had injured you so much, my dear—you, the only thing +left to me in the world to love."</p> + +<p>"You could not help it, father dear."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know. I might have done many things different—I see that +now. But there's one thing to be said—if you feel inclined to break off +with Mr. Lepel without telling him your name, I think it would be easy +enough to do it."</p> + +<p>"How? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You think he's fond of you—don't you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I thought so, father."</p> + +<p>"He's tried to make you believe so for his own ends, no doubt. But he +means to marry the other girl, my dear—they told me so at Beechfield. +They say he worships the very ground she treads upon; and she the same +with him. Being fond of you was only a blind to lead you to your +destruction, I'm afraid, my poor pretty dear!"</p> + +<p>Cynthia shrank a little as she heard. Could this be true?</p> + +<p>"The girl lives down there then, does she?" she asked, in a strange hard +voice not like her own.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear. He would not be able to break off there without a +tremendous to-do, I'll warrant you; for the girl is the General's niece, +the daughter of Mr. Sydney Vane—the Miss Enid you spoke about just +now."</p> + +<p>As he got no answer, he turned to look at her, and found that she was +deadly white; but, when she noticed that he was looking at her, she +smiled and passed her hand reassuringly within his arm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>"You make my task all the easier for me, father," she said; "I shall +know what to do now. And I think that it is about time for me to go +home."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia had already despatched a little note to Hubert asking him to +visit her at a certain hour that afternoon—hence the certainty with +which she spoke of his visit to her father. After what had passed +between them, she did not think that he would fail to come.</p> + +<p>She wanted him at half-past five precisely, because at that hour Madame +had promised to go for a drive in the Park with one of her most +fashionable pupils and her friends, and Cynthia knew that she could then +see him alone. And she was right in thinking that he would come. Just as +the half-hour struck, Hubert knocked at Madame della Scala's door, and +was immediately ushered into a tiny little room on the ground-floor +which was always called "Miss West's parlor," and which contained little +furniture except a piano and table and a couple of chairs. It was here +that Cynthia practised and studied, and sat when she wanted to be alone. +Two or three photographs of the heads of great singers and musicians +were the sole decorations of the walls; a pile of music and some books +lay on the table. The place had a severely business-like air; and yet +its very simplicity and the sombreness of its tints had hitherto always +given Hubert, who knew the room, a sense of pleasure. But he knitted his +brows when he was taken to it on this occasion. It seemed to him that +Cynthia wanted to give her interview with him also a business-like +character. But perhaps, he reflected, it was only that she wanted a +peculiarly confidential talk.</p> + +<p>He looked at her a little anxiously when she came in, and was rather +puzzled by her face. She was pale, and she had been crying, for her +eyelids were red; but she gave him a peculiarly sweet and winning smile, +and there was a pleading softness in the lovely eyes under the wet +lashes which melted his heart to her at once, although she offered him +her hand only and would not allow him to kiss her cheek.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>"What—not one kiss for me this afternoon? I thought I was forgiven!" he +said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"It is I who want forgiveness," she answered, "for being so bad-tempered +and cross and rude last night."</p> + +<p>"Take my forgiveness then," said Hubert almost gaily in his relief at +hearing the sweetness of her voice—"and take it in this form."</p> + +<p>He would not be denied; and Cynthia had no heart to struggle. She let +him enfold her in his arms for a moment, and press a dozen kisses on her +lips and cheek; then she drew herself away. He felt the movement; +although he did not let her go.</p> + +<p>"My dearest, you do not speak naturally—and you want to get away from +me. What does this mean?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I exactly want to get away from you," said Cynthia, +smiling; "but I think that perhaps I must."</p> + +<p>The smile was a very woeful little affair after all.</p> + +<p>"Must! I don't think I shall ever let you go again!"</p> + +<p>He tightened his clasp. She looked up into his face with beseeching +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do take away your arm, please, Hubert! I want to talk to you, and I +cannot if it is there."</p> + +<p>"Then we will leave it there. I don't think I want to talk, darling. I +am very tired—I think I must have walked miles last night before I came +back to this door to hand my lady out of her carriage, and I want to be +petted and spoken to kindly."</p> + +<p>Cynthia's fingers twitched and she turned her head aside, but not before +Hubert had noticed the peculiar expression that crossed her face. Being +a play-writer and constant theatre-goer, his mind was full of theatrical +reminiscences. He remembered at that moment to have noticed that +peculiar twitch, that odd expression of countenance, in Sarah Bernhardt +when she was acting the part of a profoundly jealous woman. It had then +meant, "Go to my rival, to her whom you love, and be comforted—do not +come to me!" But there was no likeness between the great tragic actress +and Cynthia West either of character or of circumstance; and Cynthia had +no cause to be jealous. But he thought of the momentary impression +afterwards.</p> + +<p>She turned her face back again with as sweet a smile as ever.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>"You think you must always have your own way; but I want to be +considered too. I have something to tell you, and I shall not be happy +until it is said. If you are tired, you shall sit down in this chair—it +is much more comfortable than it looks—and have some tea, and then we +can talk. But Madame may be in by half-past six, and I want to get it +all over before she comes."</p> + +<p>"'Getting it all over' sounds as if something disagreeable were to +follow!" said Hubert, releasing her and taking the chair she proffered. +"No tea, thank you; I had some at my club before I came. Now what is it, +dear? But sit down; I can't sit, you know, if you stand."</p> + +<p>"I must stand," said Cynthia, with a touch of imperiousness. "I am the +criminal, and you are the judge. The criminal always stands."</p> + +<p>"It is a very innocent criminal and a very unworthy judge in this +instance. 'Sit, Jessica.'"</p> + +<p>She laughed and drew a chair forward. Sitting down, he saw that her +figure fell at once into a weary, languid attitude, and that the smile +faded suddenly from her face. He put his hand on hers.</p> + +<p>"What is it, my dearest?" he said, seriously this time.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes, and they were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"It is of no use trying to speak lightly about it," she said. "I may as +well tell you that it is a very important matter, Hubert. I sent for you +to-day to tell you that we must part."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>"We must indeed! The worst is that we might have avoided all this +trouble—this misery—if I had been candid and open with you from the +first. If I had told you all about myself, you would perhaps never have +helped me—or at least—for I won't say that exactly—you would have +helped me from a distance, and never cared to see me or speak to me at +all."</p> + +<p>"Of course you know that you are talking riddles, Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But you will understand in a minute or two. I only want to +say, first, that I had no idea who—who you were."</p> + +<p>"Who I am, dear? Myself, Hubert Lepel, and nobody else."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>"And cousin"—she brought the words out with difficulty—"cousin to the +Vanes of Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"Well, what objection have you to the Vanes of Beechfield?"</p> + +<p>"They have the right to object to me; and so have you. Do you remember +the evening when I spoke to you in the street outside the theatre? Did +it never cross your mind that you had seen and spoken to me before? You +asked me once if I knew a girl called Jane Wood. Now don't you remember +me? Now don't you know my name?"</p> + +<p>Hubert had risen to his feet. His face was ghastly pale; but there was a +horror in it which even Cynthia could not interpret aright.</p> + +<p>"You—you, Jane Wood!" he gasped. "Don't trifle with me, Cynthia! You +are Cynthia West!"</p> + +<p>"Cynthia Janet Westwood, known at St. Elizabeth's as Janie Wood."</p> + +<p>"You—you are Westwood's child?"</p> + +<p>She silently bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cynthia, Cynthia, if you had but told me before!"</p> + +<p>He sank down into his chair again, burying his face in his hands with +his elbows on his knees. There was a look of self-abasement, of shame +and sorrow in his attitude inexplicable to Cynthia. Finding that he did +not speak, she took up her tale again in low, uneven tones.</p> + +<p>"I knew that I ought to tell you. I said that I would tell you +everything before—before we were married, if ever it came to that. I +ought to have done so at once; but it was so difficult. They had changed +my name when I went to school so that nobody should know; they told me +that it would be a disgrace to have it known. I ran away from St. +Elizabeth's because I had been fool enough to let it out. I could not +face the girls when they knew that—that my father was called a +murderer."</p> + +<p>Hubert drew his breath hard. She tried to answer what she thought was +the meaning of that strange sound, half moan, half sigh.</p> + +<p>"I never called him so," she said. "You will not believe it, of course; +but I know that my father would never have done the deed that you +attribute to him. He was kind, good, tender-hearted, although he lived +in rebellion against some of the ordinary laws of society.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> There was +nothing base or mean about him. If he had killed a man, he would not +have told lies about it; he would have said that he had done it and +borne the punishment. He was a brave man; he was not a murderer."</p> + +<p>Still Hubert did not answer. He dared not let her see his face; she must +not know the torture her words inflicted on him. She went on.</p> + +<p>"Lately I have thought that it would be better for me to face the whole +thing out, and not act as if I were ashamed of my father, who is no +murderer, but a martyr and an innocent man. I took my first step last +night by telling your aunt Miss Vane that 'West' was only an assumed +name. I had never said that before. Do you remember how she looked at +me—how she hated me—when we stood outside the gates of Beechfield Park +that afternoon? The sight of me made her ill; and, if she knew me by my +right name, it would make her ill again. If I had known that you were +their cousin, I would never have let you see my face!"</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, have a little mercy!" cried Hubert, suddenly starting up, and +dashing his hair back from his discolored, distorted face. "Do you think +I am such a brute? What does it matter to me about your father? Was I so +unkind, so cruel to you when you were a child that you cannot trust me +now?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, looking at him gently, but with a sort of aloofness +which he had never seen in her before; "you were very good to me then. +You saved me from the workhouse; you would not even let me go to the +charity-school that Mrs. Rumbold recommended. You told me to be a good +girl, and said that some day I should see my father again." She put her +hand to her throat, as if choked by some hysteric symptom, but at once +controlled herself and went on. "I see it all now. It was through you, I +suppose, that I was sent to St. Elizabeth's, where I was made into +something like a civilised being. It was you to whom they applied as to +whether I should be removed from the lower to the upper school; and +you—out of your charity to the murderer's daughter—you paid for me +forty pounds a year. I did not know that I had so much to be grateful +for to you. I have taken gifts from you since, not knowing; but this is +the last of it—I will never take another now!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>"Are you so proud, Cynthia, that you cannot bear me to have helped you a +little? My love, I did not know, I never guessed that you were +Westwood's daughter. But can you never forgive me for having done my +best for you. Do you think I love you one whit the less?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see—you think that I am ungenerous," cried Cynthia, "and that it +is my pride which stands in your way! Well, so it is—this kind of +pride—that I will not accept gifts from those who believe my father to +be a guilty man when I believe in his innocence. They did well never to +tell me who was my benefactor—for whom I was taught to pray when I was +at St. Elizabeth's. If I had known, the place would not have held me for +a day when I was old enough to understand! At first I was too ignorant, +too much stupefied by the whole thing to understand that the Vanes were +keeping me at school and supporting me. It is horrible—it is +sickening—to send my father to prison, to the gallows, and his child to +school! Much better have let me go to the workhouse! Do you think I wish +to be indebted to people who think my father a murderer?"</p> + +<p>"You mistake!" said Hubert quickly. "The Vanes knew nothing about it. If +Mrs. Rumbold ever said so, it was my fault. I did not like her to think +that I was doing it alone. And, as for me, Cynthia, I never thought your +father guilty—never!"</p> + +<p>He trembled beneath the burning gaze she turned on him, and his color +changed from white to red, and then to white again. He felt as if he had +been guilty of the meanest subterfuge of his whole life.</p> + +<p>"You never thought so?" she said, with a terrible gasp. "Then who was +guilty? Who did that murder, Hubert? Do—you—know?"</p> + +<p>She could not say, "Was your sister guilty, and are you shielding her?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her helplessly. His tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; +he could not speak. With a bitter cry she fell upon her knees before him +and seized his hands.</p> + +<p>"You know—you know! Oh, Hubert, clear my father's name! Never mind whom +you sacrifice! Let the punishment fall on the head of the wrong-doer not +on my dear, dear father's! I will forgive you for having been silent so +long, if now you will only speak. I will love you always, I will give +you my life, if you will but let the truth be known!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>He gathered his forces together by an almost superhuman effort, and +managed to speak at last; but the sweat stood in great drops on his +brow.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, don't—don't speak so, for God's sake! I know nothing, I have +nothing to say!"</p> + +<p>Clinging to his knees, she looked up at him, her eyes full of +supplication.</p> + +<p>"Is the cost too great?" she cried. "Will you not tell the truth for my +sake—for Cynthia's sake?"</p> + +<p>Scarcely knowing what he did, he pushed back his chair, and wrenched +himself free from her entreating hands.</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear this, Cynthia! If I could——But it is of no use; I have +nothing—nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>He had moved away from her; but he came back when he saw that she had +fallen forward with her face on the chair where he had been sitting. He +leaned over her. At first he thought that she had fainted; but presently +the movement of her shoulders showed him that she was but vainly +endeavoring to suppress a burst of agonising sobs.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," he said, "believe in my love, darling! If you believe in +nothing else, you may be sure of that."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand gently round her neck, and, finding that she did not +repulse him, knelt beside her and tried to draw her to his breast. For a +few minutes she let her head rest on his shoulder, and clung to him as +if she could not let him go. When she grew calmer, he began to whisper +tender words into her ear.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, I will give up all the world for your dear sake! Let us go +away from England together, and live only for each other, darling! We +could be happy somewhere, away from the toil and strife of London, could +we not? I love you only, dearest—only you! If you like, we would go to +America and see whether we could not find your poor father, who, I have +heard, is living there; and we could cheer his last days together. Will +you not make me happy in this way, Cynthia? Be my wife, and let us +forget all the world beside."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. She had wept so violently that at first she could +not speak.</p> + +<p>"Why do you shake your head? You do not doubt my love? My darling, I +count the world well lost for you. Do not distrust me again! Do you +think I mind what the world says, or what my relatives say? You are +Cyn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>thia and my love to me, and whose daughter you are matters +nothing—nothing at all!"</p> + +<p>"But it matters to me," she whispered brokenly—"and I cannot consent."</p> + +<p>"Dearest, don't say that! You must consent! Your only chance of +happiness lies with me, and mine with you."</p> + +<p>"But you have promised yourself," she murmured, "to Enid Vane."</p> + +<p>"Conditionally; and I am certain—certain that she does not care for +me."</p> + +<p>"I am not certain," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Then there was a little pause; during which he felt that she was bracing +herself to say something which was hard for her to say.</p> + +<p>"I have made up my mind," she said at length, "to take nothing away from +Enid Vane that is dear to her. Do you remember how she pleaded with you +for me? Do you remember how good she was—how kind? She gave me her +shilling because I had had no food that day. I never spent it—I have +that shilling still. I have worn it ever since, as a sort of talisman +against evil." She felt in her bosom and brought out the coin attached +by a little string around her neck. "It has been my greatest treasure! I +have had so few treasures in my life. And do you think I am going to be +ungrateful? If it broke my heart to give you up, I would not hesitate +one moment, when I had reason to think that you were plighted to Enid +Vane."</p> + +<p>She drew herself away from him as she spoke, and rose to her full +height. Hubert stood before her, his eyes on the floor, his lips white +and tremulous. What could he say? He had nothing but his love to +plead—and his love looked a poor and common thing beside that purity of +motive, that height of purpose, that intensity of noble passion which at +that moment made Cynthia's face beautiful indeed.</p> + +<p>"I will see you no more," she said. "You must go back to Enid Vane, and +you must make her happy. For me, I have another work to do. In my own +way I—I shall be happy too. There is a double barrier between us, and +we must never meet again."</p> + +<p>"Is it a barrier that can never be broken down, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>"No," she said—"not unless my father is shown to be innocent to the +world and the stain removed from his name—not unless we are sure—sure +that Enid Vane has no affection for you save that of a cousin and a +friend. And those things are impossibilities; so we must say good-bye."</p> + +<p>It seemed as if he had not understood her words. He muttered something, +and clutched at the table behind him as if to keep himself from falling.</p> + +<p>"Impossibilities indeed!" he said hoarsely, after a moment's pause. +"Good-bye, Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>Struck with pity for his haggard face and hollow eyes, Cynthia came up +to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>"I was mad just now! I said more than I think I meant, Hubert. Forgive +me before you go; but never come here again."</p> + +<p>Their eyes met, and then some instinct prompted her to whisper very +low—"Could you not, even now, save my father if you tried?"</p> + +<p>Surely his good angel pleaded with him in Cynthia's guise, and, looking +into her face, he answered as he had never thought to answer in this +world—</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cynthia; if I took his place, I could."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + + +<p>Westwood had scouted Cynthia's notion that the woman in black who seemed +to be following them could possibly be a spy; nevertheless he meditated +upon it with some anxiety, and resolved, on his arrival at his lodgings, +to be wary and circumspect—also to show that he was on his guard. He +relapsed therefore into the very uncommunicative "single gentleman" whom +Mrs. Gunn, his landlady, had at first found him to be, and refused +rather gruffly her invitation that afternoon to take tea with her in her +own parlor in the company of herself and her niece.</p> + +<p>"He's grumpier than ever," she said to this niece, who was no other than +Sabina Meldreth, now paying a visit—on business principles—of +indefinite duration to her aunt's abode in Camden Town; "and I did think +that you'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> melted him a bit last week, Sabina! But he's as close as +wax! Let's sit down to our tea before it gets black and bitter, as he +won't come."</p> + +<p>"He must have seen me in the Gardens," said Sabina, who was dressed in +the brightest of blue gowns, with red ribbons at her throat and wrists, +"though I should never have thought that he would recognise me, being in +black and having that thick black veil over my face."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what you wanted to foller him for!" said Mrs. Gunn. "What +business o' yours was it where he went and what he did? I don't think +you'll ever make anything of him"—for Miss Meldreth had begun to harbor +matrimonial designs on the unconscious Mr. Reuben Dare.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure," said Sabina. "Once get a man by himself, and you can +do a' most anything with him, so long as there's no other woman in the +way."</p> + +<p>"And is there another woman in the way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt Eliza, there is."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Gunn, emptying the water-jug into the +tea-pot in pure absence of mind. "You saw him with one, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt Eliza, I did."</p> + +<p>"And what was she like, Sabina?"</p> + +<p>"Well, some folks would call her handsome," said Sabina dubiously; "and +she was dressed like a lady—I'll say that for her. But what's odd is +that I'm nearly sure I heard her call him 'father.' She's young enough +to be his daughter, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Did he call her anything?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't hear. But I'll tell you what I did afterwards, aunt Eliza; I +followed her when she came out at the gate—and she didn't see me then. +She went straight to a house in Norton Square; and I managed to make +some inquiries about her at a confectioner's shop in the neighborhood. +The house belongs to a music-mistress; and this girl is a singer. +'Cynthia West,' they call her—I've seen her name in the newspapers. +Well, I thought I would wait round a bit, and presently I saw a man go +to the house to deliver a note; and thinks I to myself, 'I know that +face.' And so I did. It was Mr. Lepel's man, Jenkins, as used to come +down with him to Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Gunn, raising her hands in amazement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>"He knew me," Sabina proceeded tranquilly; "and so we had a little chat +together. I says to him, 'Who is it you take notes to at number +five—the old lady or the young one?' 'Oh,' says he, 'the young one, to +be sure. Scrumptious, isn't she?' 'Cynthia West?' says I. 'Yes,' he +says—'and Mrs. Hubert Lepel before very long, if I've got eyes to see! +He's always after her.' 'That ain't very likely,' I said, 'because he's +got a young lady already in the country.' 'One in the country and one in +the town,' he says, with a wink—'that's the usual style, isn't it?' +And, seeing that he was disposed to be familiar, I said good-day to him +and came away."</p> + +<p>"What will you do now then, Sabina?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sabina reflectively, "I think I shall let Mrs. Vane know. +She'd be glad to have a sort of handle against her brother, I'm +thinking. And these people—Mr. Dare and Miss West—seem to have got +something to do with Beechfield, for I'm certain it was to Beechfield he +went when he left here for that fortnight. He gave no address—that was +natural maybe—but he'd got the Whitminster label on his bag when he +came back. And, if Miss West was being courted by Mr. Lepel, and her +father wanted to know who Mr. Lepel was and all about him, he might +easily gather that Beechfield was the place to go to. I suppose he +wanted to find out whether Mr. Lepel was engaged to Miss Vane or not. +And I've a sort of idea too that there's something mysterious about it +all. Why shouldn't he have said straight out where he was going, +especially when I had already told him that I knew Whitminster so well +and belonged to Beechfield? It seems to me that Mr. Dare has got +something to conceal; and I'd like to know what it is before I go any +farther."</p> + +<p>"Any farther!" said her aunt contemptuously. "It don't seem to me that +you've got very far!"</p> + +<p>"Farther than you think," was Miss Meldreth's reply. "He's afraid of me, +or else he would have come to tea this afternoon. And a woman can always +manage a man that's afraid of her."</p> + +<p>Fortified by this conviction, Sabina sat down after tea to indite a +letter to Mrs. Vane. She was not a very deft scribe, and the spelling of +certain words was a mystery to her. But, with the faults of its +orthography corrected the letter finally stood thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Madam</span>—I thought you might like to know as how there is a gentleman, +named Reuben Dare, lodging here at my aunt's, as seems to have a secret +interest in Beechfield. I think, but I am not quite sure, that he spent +a few days at the Beechfield inn not long ago. He is tall and thin and +brown, with white hair and beard and very black eyes. He will not talk +much about Beechfield, and yet seems to know it well. Says he comes from +America. He was walking for a long time in Kensington Garden this +morning with a young woman that goes by the name of Cynthia West and is +a singer. She calls; him 'Father.' Madam, I take the liberty of +informing you that Mr. H. Lepel visits her constant, and is said to be +going to marry her. She is what gentlemen call good-looking, though too +dark for my taste. It does not seem to be generally known that she has a +parent living.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="sig6">"Yours respectfully,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Sabina Meldreth</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane read this letter with considerable surprise. She meditated +upon it for some time with closed lips and knitted brows; then she rang +the bell for Parker.</p> + +<p>"Parker," she said, "can you tell me whether any strangers have been +visiting Beechfield lately?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, ma'am! There was an old gentleman at the 'Crown' a few days +ago. The post-office woman told me that he came from America."</p> + +<p>"Do you know his name?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am—'Mr. Dare.'"</p> + +<p>"The woman at the post-office told you that? Did you ever see him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. He spoke to me one evening when I'd run out with a letter, +and asked me the way to the Hall."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"He said he'd heard of a Mr. Lepel at Beechfield, ma'am," said Parker, +rather reluctantly, "and that he knew a Mr. Lepel and wondered, whether +it was the same. But it wasn't. The Mr. Lepel he knew was short and fair +and was married; the Mr. Lepel that came here, as I told him, was dark +and tall and engaged to Miss Vane."</p> + +<p>"You had no right to tell him that, Parker; it is not public property."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am! I'd heard it so often that I +thought everybody knew."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>"What else did this Mr. Dare say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Did he ask no other questions? Did he ask, for instance, whether Mr. +Lepel was not very fond of Miss Vane?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, ma'am; now you mention it I think he did—though how you +came to guess it——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind how I came to guess it. What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I said that he worshipped the ground she trod upon, and that she was +just the same with him."</p> + +<p>"And pray how did you know that?"—Parker shuffled.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, I couldn't rightly say; but it's what is general with +young ladies and young gentlemen, and it wouldn't have looked well, I +thought, to ha' said anythink else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see! The remark was purely conventional," said Flossy cynically. +"I congratulate you, Parker, on always doing as much harm as you can +whenever you take anything in hand. Did he seem pleased by what you +said?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly pleased, ma'am—nor displeased; I think, if anything, he +was more pleased than not."</p> + +<p>"That will do," Mrs. Vane said shortly; and Parker retired, much +relieved in her mind by having come off, as she considered, so well.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane proceeded to electrify the household the next morning by +declaring that she must at once go up to London in order to see her +dentist. She announced her intention at a time when the General, much to +his annoyance, could not possibly accompany her. She said to him very +sweetly that she had chosen that hour on purpose because she did not +want to put him to needless inconvenience, and that she preferred to go +with Parker only as her companion. She hated to be seen, she said, when +she was in pain.</p> + +<p>The General fumed and fretted; but, as he had an important meeting to +attend at Whitminster that day, he could but put his wife into the train +and give Parker endless injunctions to be careful of her mistress. +Parker promised fervently to do all that lay in her power; and with a +serene smile Flossy listened to the General's orders and her maid's +asseverations with equal tranquility. They had the carriage to +themselves; and not until the train<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> was nearly to London did Mrs. Vane +rouse herself from the restful semi-slumber in which she seemed to have +passed the journey. Then she sat up suddenly, with a curiously +wide-awake and resolute air, and addressed herself to her maid.</p> + +<p>"I shall not require you at all to-day, Parker. I brought you only +because the General would never have allowed me to come alone; but I +dislike being attended by any one when I go to the dentist's or to the +doctor's. You may wait at the railway-station until I come back. I may +be only an hour, or I may be gone all day."</p> + +<p>"The General's orders, ma'am," began Parker, with a gasp; but her +mistress cut the sentence short at once.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you understand that you are my servant and not the +General's?" she said. "You will obey my orders, if you please."</p> + +<p>She gave the maid some money, and instructions to spend as much as she +pleased at buffet and book-stalls until her return.</p> + +<p>"Enjoy yourself as much as you like and as much as you can," said Mrs. +Vane carelessly—"only don't stir from the station, for when I come back +I shall want you at once."</p> + +<p>She installed the faithful Parker safely in the waiting-room, and then +went out and got into a cab—not a hansom cab; Mrs. Vane did not wish to +be seen in her drive through the London streets. The address which she +gave to the cabman was not that of her dentist, but of the lodgings at +present tenanted by her brother.</p> + +<p>Parker remained at the station in a state of tearful collapse. She was +terribly afraid of being questioned and stormed at by the General when +she got back for neglect of her trust. She was certainly what Flossy had +called her—"a faithful fool." She wanted to do all that her mistress +required; but it had not as yet even occurred to her that Mrs. Vane was +quite certain to require utter silence, towards the General and +everybody else, on the question of her disposition of the day. And, if +silence was impossible, a good bold lie would do as well. Parker had not +yet grasped the full amount of devotion that was expected of her.</p> + +<p>Hubert had seldom been more surprised in his life than when the +elegantly-dressed lady who was ushered into his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> sitting-room proved to +be his sister Florence. She had never visited him before. He sprang up +from his writing-table, which was piled high with books and manuscripts, +flung a half-smoked cigar into the grate, and greeted her with a mixture +of doubt and astonishment, which amused if it did not flatter the astute +Mrs. Vane.</p> + +<p>"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I hope you are not the bearer of +ill news, Flossy! Is anything wrong at Beechfield?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no! I came up to see my dentist," said Flossy carelessly, +"and I thought that I would give you a call <i>en passant</i>. So these are +your rooms? Not at all bad for a bachelor!"</p> + +<p>"That is high praise from you, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling faintly.</p> + +<p>"But you do not look at all well, Hubert. What is the matter with you? +You look terribly fagged!"</p> + +<p>Her remark was justified by his appearance. His face had a drawn look +which added ten years to his age; his eyes seemed almost to have sunk +into his head. He made an impatient gesture, and looked away.</p> + +<p>"I have not been very well," he said; "but there is no need to speak +about it. I am very busy, and I want rest—change of scene and air."</p> + +<p>"Why not come down to Beechfield?"</p> + +<p>He gave a slight but perceptible shudder.</p> + +<p>"No," he said briefly, and then stood leaning against his writing-table, +and was silent.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," said his sister, a little more quickly than usual, "I said +that I wanted to see my dentist, but I had another reason for coming to +town. Can you tell me where I can find a file of the <i>Times</i> newspaper +for the early months of the year 187-?"—she mentioned the year of +Sydney Vane's death and the trial of Andrew Westwood.</p> + +<p>"You want—the trial?" said her brother, with an evident effort. She +bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall +them to my mind."</p> + +<p>He stood looking at her silently.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if +to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> public library, no doubt. +The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go +elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies +myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you."</p> + +<p>"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as +she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair.</p> + +<p>He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a +little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane +noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else +had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the +subject.</p> + +<p>"Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray +gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your +aid."</p> + +<p>He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside +her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write +again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and +clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he +remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of +the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Have you found all that you wanted?"</p> + +<p>"Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured—the +fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia +Janet Westwood"—"Cynthia West"—it was plain enough to her quick +intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never +thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the +<i>Times</i>.</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye," said Flossy lightly, "I hear sad tales of you in town. How +often is it that you go to see the new singer—Miss West? Has poor Enid +a rival?"</p> + +<p>He did not look round; but she saw that her question sent a shock +through his nerves.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you mean," he answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you not? You may as well speak the truth—to me, Hubert. Are you +going to marry Miss West or Miss Vane—which?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, I think."</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd. Are you going to marry Miss West?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"No."</p> + +<p>"Shall you marry Enid Vane?"</p> + +<p>"It is not very likely that she will marry me."</p> + +<p>Something in the intense dreariness of his tone struck painfully on +Florence's ear. She rose and put her hand on Hubert's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, Hubert?"</p> + +<p>He shook off her hand as if it had been a noxious reptile of which he +desired to rid himself, and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"You must not mind what I say to-day, Florence. I am not well. I—I +shall see you another time."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will—plenty of times, I hope!" A look of dismay began to +show itself in Flossy's velvet-brown eyes. "You are not contemplating +any new step, I hope? I——"</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed!" he said, with a hoarse unnatural laugh. "Before I +take any new step I will come to you. I will not leave you without a +warning." Then he seemed to recover his self-possession and spoke in +more measured tones. "Nonsense, Florence—don't concern yourself about +me! I have a bad headache—that is all. If I am left alone, I shall soon +be better."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will," said Flossy, rather gravely, "for you look alarmingly +ill to-day. You should send for the doctor, Hubert. And now I will say +good-bye, for I have two or three other things to do to-day, besides +going to my dentist's. The cab is at the door; you need not come down."</p> + +<p>He rose, as she really expected him to do, to see her to her cab; but a +sensation of dizziness and faintness made him sit down again and bury +his head in his hands. Considerably alarmed, Florence rang for Jenkins, +his man, and gave strict orders that the doctor should be sent for at +once. Then, feeling that she had for the present at least done her duty, +she took her leave, promising to call again before she left town that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>Jenkins went for the doctor, as Mrs. Vane had told him to do. When that +gentleman arrived, he found Mr. Lepel stretched on a sofa in a +half-unconscious state, and declared him to be in one of the incipient +stages of brain-fever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Vane, on leaving her brother's lodgings, drove straight to Camden +Town. She had reasons for wishing to see Sabina Meldreth. The house was +a little difficult to find, because the street had recently been renamed +and renumbered, and Mrs. Vane was forced, to her great disgust, to +descend from the cab and make inquiries in her own person of various +frowsy-looking women standing at their own doors. "I wish I had brought +Parker," she said to herself more than once; "she would have been useful +in this kind of work. Surely Sabina has given me the right address!"</p> + +<p>"There goes the gentleman that lodges at Mrs. Gunn's!" said one of the +frowsy-looking women at last. "I've heard tell that he was there, though +I didn't know the number. Will you tell this lady, please, sir, what +number Mrs. Gunn's is?"</p> + +<p>The white-bearded old man who was just then passing along the street +turned to Mrs. Vane.</p> + +<p>"I shall be very happy to show the lady the house," he said half raising +his felt hat from his white head with something like foreign politeness. +And then he and Flossy exchanged glances which were hard and keen as +steel.</p> + +<p>He knew her well by sight; but she did not recognise him. She had seen +Westwood only once or twice in her life, and this apparently gentle old +man with the silvery hair did not harmonise with Flossy's impressions of +the Beechfield poacher. Nevertheless she was suspicious enough to +remember that all things were possible; and she made a mental note of +his dark eyes and eyebrows, the latter being a little out of keeping +with his very white hair. As a matter of fact, Westwood had gone too far +in selecting his disguise; a more ordinary slightly-grizzled wig would +have suited his general appearance better. The <i>perruquier</i>—an artist +in his way—to whom he had applied considered picturesque effect an +object not to be overlooked; and Mr. Reuben Dare was accordingly a +rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> too strikingly picturesque individual to be anything but +theatrical in air.</p> + +<p>He showed Mrs. Vane the house, bowed politely, and then passed down the +street.</p> + +<p>"She's come to enquire about me—I am sure of that," he said. "I'd +better change my lodgings as quick as possible. I'll leave them +to-morrow—to-night would look suspicious, maybe: or should I leave them +now, and never go back?"</p> + +<p>He was half inclined to adopt this course; but he was deterred by the +remembrance of a pocket-book containing money which he had left locked +up in his portmanteau. He could not well dispense with it; and neither +Mrs. Vane nor anybody else could do him any harm, he thought, if he +stayed for twenty-four hours longer at Mrs. Gunn's. But he trusted a +little too much to the uncertainties of fate.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sabina," said Mrs. Vane coolly, as, with a general air of +bewilderment, that young person appeared before her in Mrs. Gunn's best +parlor, "I suppose that you hardly expected to see me here?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, I didn't. I thought you was quite too much of an invalid to +leave home."</p> + +<p>"It is rather an effort," said Flossy drily, "especially considering the +neighborhood in which you live."</p> + +<p>"It ain't country certainly," returned Sabina; "but it's respectable."</p> + +<p>"Ah, like yourself!" said Mrs. Vane. "That was the reason you came to +it, I suppose. Don't look angry, Sabina—I was only meaning to make a +little joke. But jokes are a mistake with most people. I came to answer +your letter in person and to have a talk with you."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have anything to eat, ma'am? We've just finished dinner; but, +if there's anything we can get"—Sabina was evidently inclined to be +obsequious—"an egg, or a chop, or a cup of tea——"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want anything. Who is this Mr. Reuben Dare?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I want to know, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"And who is this Miss West?"—Sabina shook her head.</p> + +<p>"She calls him her father—I'm sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Where does she come from? Where was she brought up?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>"Couldn't say, ma'am. Jenkins says that Miss West used to act at the +Frivolity Theatre—he's seen her there about two years ago. Mr. Lepel +took her up, as far as he can make out, about a year and a half +ago—soon after he settled in London again."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that the man Dare has any connection with Beechfield +beside that of his recent visit?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. He caught himself up like once or twice when I began to talk +of it; and once he put me right—accidental like—about the name of +somebody at Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"Whose name?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure as I can remember. Yes, I do, though! It was Mr. Rumbold's +first name. I called him 'The Reverend Edward,' and he says +'Alfred'—quick, as if he wasn't thinking. So he must have known the +place in years gone by."</p> + +<p>Flossy sat thinking.</p> + +<p>"Sabina," she said at length, in her smoothest tones, "I will take you +into my confidence—I know you can be trusted. Of course it would be a +great blow to me if my brother married an actress—a girl whom one knows +nothing at all about; besides, he is almost engaged to my husband's +niece, Miss Vane." She did not add that she had been subtly opposing +this engagement by all the means in her power for the last few weeks. +"We must try to break off the connection as soon as we can. The more we +know about this Miss West's past life the better. I will go to the +Frivolity myself, and see whether I can learn anything about it there. +And, Sabina——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said the woman, as Mrs. Vane paused.</p> + +<p>"That mass of white hair, Sabina—do you think it looks quite natural?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dare, you mean, ma'am? No, I don't; I believe it's a wig. I've seen +it quite on one side."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you find out, Sabina?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't see how," said Sabina slowly. "I've never seen him +without it. One night there was an alarm of fire, and everybody rushed +to their doors, and Mr. Dare came too; but his hair and his beard and +everything was just the same as usual. Still I'm sure I've seen it a +little on one side."</p> + +<p>"You provide his food here, do you not? Do you ever help your aunt?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>"Sometimes, ma'am. I take in his tea and all that, you know. We're by +way of being very friendly, Mr. Dare and me."</p> + +<p>"Sabina, if you had the stuff, could you not quietly put something into +his tea which would make him sleep for an hour or two? And, when he was +asleep, could you not find out what I want to know?"</p> + +<p>Sabina was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"What should I get for it?" she said at last. "It's always a risk to +run."</p> + +<p>"Twenty pounds," said Flossy promptly. "There is very little risk."</p> + +<p>"And where should I get the stuff?"</p> + +<p>"I—I have it with me," said Mrs. Vane.</p> + +<p>Sabina, who had been standing, suddenly sat down and burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are a deep one," she said, when her laughter was ended, and +she observed that Mrs. Vane was regarding her rather angrily; "if you'll +excuse me for saying so, ma'am, but you are the very deepest one I ever +came across! And you don't look it one bit!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean both of these assertions for compliments," said +Flossy. "If so you need not trouble to make them again. This is a +business matter. Will you undertake it, or will you not?"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"To-night."</p> + +<p>"To-night! When he comes in to tea? Well, is it safe?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the drug? Perfectly safe. He will never know that he has had +it. It will keep him sound asleep for a couple of hours at least. During +that time I do not think that thunder itself would wake him."</p> + +<p>"You've tried it before, I'll warrant?" said Sabina half questioningly, +half admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flossy placidly, "I have tried it before." She took a little +bottle of greenish glass from the small morocco bag which she carried in +her hand, and held it up to the light. "There are two doses in it," she +said. "Don't use it all at once. A drop or two more or less does not +matter; you need not be afraid of making it a little too strong. It is +colorless and tasteless. Can you manage it?"</p> + +<p>Sabina considered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>"If I put it into the tea-pot, it might be wasted; he might not drink +all the tea. He never lets me pour it out for him. Would it alter the +look of the milk?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"Then I could put it into his cream-jug, and give him so little that +he's sure to use it all and ring for more. He likes a deal of milk in +his tea."</p> + +<p>"Then you will do it, Sabina?"</p> + +<p>Again Sabina hesitated. Finally she said, with sudden decision—</p> + +<p>"Give me that twenty pound, and then I will."</p> + +<p>"Not until you have earned it."</p> + +<p>"If I don't have it beforehand, I won't do it at all," said Sabina +doggedly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane shrugged her shoulders slightly, opened her bag, and put the +little bottle back into its place.</p> + +<p>"You said you could trust me; show me that you can," said Sabina, +unmoved by this pantomime. "One of us will have to trust the other. I +may do it, and then—who knows?—you may back out of the bargain."</p> + +<p>"Did I ever 'back out of a bargain,' as you coarsely express it? I +think, Sabina, I have trusted you a good deal already."</p> + +<p>"Well, split the difference," said Sabina roughly. "Give me ten down on +the nail, and ten when I've done the work. I dare say I can manage it +to-night. I can write to you when it's over."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Here are ten pounds for you; I will give you the other when +your work is done. But do not write to me; come to me at the Grosvenor +Hotel to-morrow morning. I shall stay the night in town!"</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea who the man is?" said Sabina, as she received the +bottle and the ten-pound note from her visitor's hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have; but I may be wrong."</p> + +<p>"That's not very likely, ma'am. You'd 'a' made a good detective, as I +always did think—you're so sharp."</p> + +<p>"And I don't look it, as you said before. Perhaps I will tell you +to-morrow morning, Sabina. At present I am going to find out all that I +can about Miss Cynthia West. You did not give me her address; give it to +me now."</p> + +<p>She wrote it down in a little pocket-book, and then rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> to take her +leave. Sabina, who followed her to the cab, heard her tell the man to +drive to the box-office of the Frivolity Theatre.</p> + +<p>It took Mrs. Vane three-quarters of an hour to reach the Frivolity. It +was half-past three when she got there. She asked at once if it was +possible to see the manager, Mr. Ferguson. A gold coin probably +expedited her messenger and rendered her entrance to the great man +possible; for Mrs. Vane was a very handsome and well-dressed woman, and +the "important business" on which she sent word that she had come had +possibly less influence on the manager's mind than the glowing account +given by the man despatched from the box-office on her errand.</p> + +<p>Flossy was lucky. Mr. Ferguson was in the building—a rather unusual +fact; he was also willing to see her in his private room—another +concession; and he received her with moderate civility—a variation from +his usual manner, which Mrs. Vane must have owed to her own manner and +appearance.</p> + +<p>"I shall not detain you for more than a very few minutes, Mr. Ferguson," +said Flossy, with the air of a duchess, as she accepted the chair which +the manager offered her; "but I have a good reason for coming to you. I +think that a young lady called Cynthia West was once acting at this +theatre? To put my question in plain words—Do you know anything about +her?"</p> + +<p>The manager sneered a little.</p> + +<p>"A good deal," he said. "Oh, yes—she was here! I don't know that I have +anything to tell, however. I should think that Mr. Hubert Lepel, if you +know him, could tell you more about her than any one."</p> + +<p>"I happen to be Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy, with dignity.</p> + +<p>"The deuce you are!" remarked the manager to himself. "That +explains——" Aloud—"Well, madam, how can I assist you? Do you want to +know Miss West's character? Well, that was—if I may use the +word—notorious."</p> + +<p>Flossy's eyes gleamed.</p> + +<p>"So I expected to hear," she murmured. "I am afraid that my poor brother +has some thought of—of marrying her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely not!" said Mr. Ferguson. "Surely he wouldn't be such a +fool!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>"Can you tell me anything definite about her?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madam, for asking; but you—naturally—wish to prevent the +marriage, if possible?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly do not wish my brother to ruin himself for life, as he +would do if she were such a—such a person as you imply." Mrs. Vane's +lips were evidently much too delicate to say in plain terms what she +meant. "If she were as respectable as she seems to be talented, of +course objections about birth and station might be overlooked. But my +brother has expectations from relatives who take the old-fashioned views +about a woman's position; and the mere fact of her being a singer or an +actress might be against her in their eyes. It would be much better for +him if the whole thing were broken off."</p> + +<p>She was purposely vague and diplomatic.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lepel's his own master, of course," said the manager; "so perhaps +he knows all we can tell him—and more. But you are welcome to use any +information that I can give you." His little green eyes gleamed with +malice, and a triumphant smile showed itself at the corners of his thick +hanging lips. "Miss West's career is well known. Lalli, a member of our +orchestra, picked her out of the streets when she was sixteen or +seventeen, trained her a bit, and brought her here. We soon found out +what sort of person she was, and I spoke my mind to Lalli about it; for, +though we're not particular as to a girl's character, still now and +then——Well, she was under his protection at the time, and there was +nothing much to be done; so we let her alone. He died suddenly about a +couple of years ago; and then, I believe, she accosted Mr. Lepel in the +street, and went to his rooms and fastened herself upon him, as women of +her sort sometimes do. He took her up, sent her to Italy for a bit, put +her under the care of that woman della Scala—as a blind to the public, +I suppose—and got her brought out as a singer; and she seems to have +had a fair amount of success."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferguson's account of Cynthia's career had an intermixture of fact, +but it was so artfully combined with falsehood that it was difficult to +disentangle one from the other.</p> + +<p>Flossy listened with keen attention; it struck her at once that Mr. +Ferguson was blackening the girl's character out of spite.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>"Do you know where she came from before your musician, Lalli, discovered +her, Mr. Ferguson?"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not, madam. But I have followed her course with interest ever +since"—which was true.</p> + +<p>"And do you know where she resided before he died?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam—I really do not"—which was utterly false. "Perhaps I could +ascertain for you, and let you know."</p> + +<p>Flossy thanked him and rose. She had not attained her object precisely; +but she had received information that might prove extremely valuable. +The manager bowed her out of his room politely, and called to one of his +subordinates to show her down-stairs.</p> + +<p>This was a little mistake on Mr. Ferguson's part; he did not calculate +on his visitor's questioning his subordinate, who happened to be a young +man with a taste for the violin.</p> + +<p>"Did you know a Mr. Lalli who was once in the orchestra here?" said +Flossy graciously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, ma'am! He was here for a very long time."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where he used to live?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, No.—, Euston Road; it's a boarding-house, kept by a Mrs. +Wadsley. He died there."</p> + +<p>Quite astonished by her own success, Flossy slipped a coin into his hand +and made him call her a hansom cab. She was beginning to think of speed +more than of the probability of being recognised in the London streets.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Wadsley's then in all haste. The dingily respectable air of the +house and of the proprietress herself at once impressed Mrs. Vane with +the idea that Mr. Ferguson had been largely drawing on his own +imagination with respect to Cynthia West. Nothing certainly could be +more idyllic than the story of Lalli's devotion to the girl, whom he had +brought home one night with an assurance to Mrs. Wadsley that she was +the daughter of an old friend, and that he would be responsible for the +payment of her board and lodging until she began to earn her own living.</p> + +<p>"He was just like a father to her," said Mrs. Wadsley confidentially; +"and teach her he would, and scold her sometimes by the hour together. I +assure you, Mrs. Vane, it was wonderful to see the pains that he took +with her. I see in the papers that she has been singing at concerts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +lately; and I said to my friend Mrs. Doldrum, 'How pleased poor dear old +Mr. Lalli would have been if he had known!'"</p> + +<p>"He was quite an old man, I suppose?" said Mrs. Vane. "There was no talk +of marriage between them—of an attachment of any kind?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wadsley drew herself up in rather an offended manner.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, madam—save as father and daughter might be attached one +to another. Mr. Lalli was old enough to be the girl's grandfather; and +Cynthia—oh, she was quite a child! I hope you do not think that I +should have chaperoned her if any such matter had seemed likely to +occur; but there was nothing of the kind. Mr. Lalli was quite too +serious-minded for anything of that sort—a deeply religious man, +although an Italian, Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am glad to hear it," said Flossy solemnly. "Miss West had no +engagement—no love-affair, in short—going on when she was with you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear her say where she had lived—where she had been +educated—before she came to London?"</p> + +<p>"I did hear something of a school that she had been at," said Mrs. +Wadsley, after a little reflection; "but where it was I could not +exactly tell you. They were Sisters, I believe, who taught her—Roman +Catholics, very probably. 'St. Elizabeth's'—that was the name of the +school; but where it is to be found I am sure I cannot say."</p> + +<p>"At St. Elizabeth's, East Winstead?" said Mrs. Vane quickly. She had +heard the name from the Rumbolds.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I cannot say, Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>"Miss West was not a Roman Catholic, was she?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge," said Mrs. Wadsley with great stiffness.</p> + +<p>Flossy's questions had not impressed her favorably; but the words next +uttered by her visitor did away to some extent with the bad impression.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wadsley, for your kind information! The fact is +that a relative of mine his fallen in love with Miss West, and I was +asked to find out who she was and all about her. Everything I have heard +is so entirely charming and satisfactory, that I shall be able to set +everything right, and assure my friends that we shall be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> honored by an +alliance with Miss West. I hope we shall see you at the wedding, Mrs. +Wadsley, when it takes place."</p> + +<p>"When it takes place," Flossy repeated to herself, when she stood once +more in the noisy London street; "but I do not think it will ever take +place. I wonder how far it is to East Winstead; and whether it is worth +while going there or not?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + + +<p>It was not much after five, and the days were very long. Mrs. Vane found +that she could reach East Winstead by seven, and, allowing for one hour +at St. Elizabeth's, could be back in London by half-past nine. She, who +was said to be an invalid, who never walked half a mile alone or exerted +herself in any avoidable way, now showed herself as unwearied, as +vigorous, as energetic as any able-bodied detective in the pursuit of +his duty. She went first to the station where she had left Parker, and +gave the maid her instructions. Parker was to go to the Grosvenor Hotel +and engage rooms for the night for herself and her mistress, and to see +that every requisite for comfort was provided for Mrs. Vane when she +arrived. At half-past seven precisely she was to despatch a telegram +which Flossy herself had written for the General's benefit, announcing +her intention to stay the night in town. It was not to be sent earlier, +as in that case the General would be rushing off to London to take care +of his wife, and Flossy did not want him in the least. If he got the +telegram between eight and nine, he would scarcely start that night, +although she knew that she might fully expect to see him in the morning. +He was a most affectionate husband, and never believed that his wife was +capable of doing anything for herself.</p> + +<p>Parker was much amazed by Mrs. Vane's proceedings, and did not believe +that the dentist was responsible for them, or Mr. Hubert Lepel either, +although Flossy was careful to put the blame of her detention upon these +innocent persons. She was not allowed to know what her mistress was +going to do, but was sent away from the station to the hotel at once in +a hansom-cab. Then Flossy calmly provided herself with sandwiches and a +flask of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> sherry, took a return-ticket for East Winstead and found +herself moving out of the station in a fast train at exactly five +minutes to six. It was quick work; but she had accomplished the task +that she had set herself to do. Flossy had a genius for intrigue.</p> + +<p>She reached East Winstead at seven, and found a cab at the station. The +drive to St. Elizabeth's occupied twenty minutes—longer than she had +anticipated. She would have to do her work—make all her inquiries—in +exactly one quarter of an hour if she meant to catch the next train to +London. Well, a quarter of an hour ought to tell her all that she wished +to know.</p> + +<p>She took little notice of the beauty of garden and architecture at St. +Elizabeth's; these were not what she had gone to see. She asked at the +door if she could see the Sister in charge of the girl's school.</p> + +<p>"Which—the orphanage or the ladies' school?"</p> + +<p>"The orphanage," was Flossy's prompt reply; and accordingly she was +shown into the presence of Sister Louisa.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that I must appear very brusque and abrupt," said Mrs. +Vane, with the soft graciousness of manner which proved so powerful a +weapon in her armory; "but I shall have to come to the point at once, as +I have only a few minutes to spare. Can you tell me whether you ever had +a child in your orphanage called Cynthia West?"</p> + +<p>Sister Louisa considered, and then shook her head.</p> + +<p>"'Cynthia' is an uncommon name," she said. "I am sure what we never +had—at least, within the last ten years."</p> + +<p>"It would not be so long ago," said Mrs. Vane. "I have reason, however, +to think that 'Cynthia West' is not her real name. Would the name of +'Westwood'—'Cynthia Janet Westwood'—recall any child to your memory?"</p> + +<p>Sister Louisa started, and a flush covered her mild thin face.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible," she said, "that you mean our lost child Jane Wood?"</p> + +<p>"She may have been known under that name," said Florence. "You had a +girl here called 'Jane Wood,' then? Why do you think that she has any +connection with Cynthia West?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>"You mentioned the name of 'Westwood,'" said Sister Louisa eagerly. +"Jane Wood's name was really 'Westwood'; but, as she was the daughter of +a notorious criminal, Mrs. Rumbold of Beechfield, who placed her with +us, asked that she should be called 'Wood.' She was the child of +Westwood, who committed a dreadful murder at Beechfield, in Hampshire—a +gentleman called Vane——" Here Sister Louisa glanced at the visitor's +card. "You know perhaps," she went on in some confusion; but Flossy +interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vane, the murdered man, was my brother-in-law. I am the wife of +General Vane of Beechfield. I had some notion that this girl Cynthia +West was identical with Westwood's daughter, but I could not be sure of +the fact. How long was she with you, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>Then she heard the whole story. She heard how the child had come to St. +Elizabeth's, and been gradually tamed and civilised; of her wonderful +voice and talent for music; of the generosity of certain persons +unknown, supposed to be the Vanes; of the outburst of passion when +"Janey" heard the lay-sister's accusation of her father, and her +subsequent disappearance; then—not greatly to Flossy's surprise—of Mr. +Lepel's visit, and his search for the girl, which—so far as the Sister +knew—seemed to have ended in failure.</p> + +<p>"But you have found her after all!" cried the good Sister, when Flossy +acknowledged that she was the sister of Hubert Lepel, and presumably +interested in his charitable enterprises. "I am so glad! And she is +growing quite famous? Dear me, I wonder that Mr. Lepel did not let us +know!"</p> + +<p>"Possibly he thought that you would be more grieved than delighted by +the discovery of her present position," said Flossy, not sorry to aim an +arrow at the unknown Cynthia behind her back, and perhaps deprive her of +some very useful and affectionate friends. "Miss West, as she calls +herself, does not bear a good character." She felt a malicious pleasure +in bringing the color into the Sister's delicate cheeks, the moisture +into those kindly, mild gray eyes. "She went upon the stage almost at +once, and lived—well, I need not tell you how she lived perhaps; you +can imagine it no doubt for yourself. I am afraid she was a thoroughly +bad girl from the first."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>"Oh, no, no—I hope not!" exclaimed Sister Louisa, the tears flowing +freely over her pale face. "Our poor Janie! She was a dear child, +generous and kind-hearted, although impetuous and wilful now and then. +If you see her, Mrs. Vane, tell her that our arms are always open to +her—that, if she will come back to us, we will give her pardon and +care, and help her to lead a good and honest life."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid she will never return to you—she would probably be +ashamed," said Mrs. Vane, rather venomously, as she took her leave. "I +am so sorry to hurry away, Sister, but I am afraid that I must catch my +train. You are quite sure then that Jane or Janie Wood, who had such a +beautiful voice, and ran away from you in July, 187-, was really the +daughter of the convict Westwood, and that Mr. Lepel and Mrs. Rumbold +placed her with you and sought for her afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," said Sister Louisa.</p> + +<p>There was a vague trouble at her heart—an uneasiness for which she +could not account. Something in Mrs. Vane's manner—something in her +tone, her smile, her eyes—was distasteful to the unerring instincts of +the pure God-fearing woman, as it had been to the trained observation of +Maurice Evandale. Flossy might do her best to be charming—she might +disarm criticism by the sweetness of her manner; but, in spite of her +efforts, candid and unsullied natures were apt to discern in her a want +of frankness—a little taint of something which they hardly liked to +name. Sister Louisa grieved sorely over what she had heard of Cynthia; +but she was also disturbed by an unconquerable distrust of this fair +fashionable woman of the world.</p> + +<p>"I think there is scarcely any link wanting in the chain," said Mrs. +Vane to herself, when, having just caught her train, she was being +whirled back to the metropolis. "Jane Wood was Cynthia Janet Westwood. +She had a fine voice, and was about sixteen years old when she left St. +Elizabeth's, July, 187-. In July, 187-, the same year, Lalli appeared at +Mrs. Wadsley's with a girl of sixteen, who also had a fine voice, who +had been at St. Elizabeth's, and who called herself Cynthia West. Mr. +Lepel had put Jane Wood at school; Mr. Lepel turns up later on as the +lover—protector—what not?—of Cynthia West. There is not the slightest +reasonable doubt that Jane Wood and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> Cynthia West are one and the same +person. That prosy old Sister would prove it in a moment if we brought +them face to face. And Jane Wood was Westwood's daughter. Cynthia West +is Westwood's daughter. Very easily traced! What will the world say when +it knows that the rising young soprano singer is the daughter of a +murderer? It won't much care, I suppose. But Hubert will care lest the +fact be known. He has been too careful in hiding it for that not to be +the case. Let me see—Cynthia West—presumably Westwood's +daughter—meets a mysterious stranger in Kensington Gardens and +addresses him as her father. The mysterious stranger comes from America, +and has white hair and a white beard—quite unlike Mr. Andrew Westwood, +be it remarked. Westwood escaped from Portland some years ago, and is +rumored to have settled in the backwoods of America. I think there is +very good reason for supposing that the mysterious stranger is Westwood +himself, returned to England in order to secure his daughter's aid and +companionship. And, if so, what a fool the man must be, when once he had +got safely away, to run his head into a nest of enemies! He must be mad +indeed! And, if mad," said Mrs. Vane, with a curiously cold and cruel +smile, "the best thing for him will be incarceration at Portland prison +once again."</p> + +<p>It was growing dark, and she was beginning to feel a little tired. She +put her feet upon the seat and closed her eyes. Before long she had +fallen into a placid slumber, which lasted until she reached the London +terminus. Then she drove straight to the Grosvenor Hotel, where she +found Parker waiting, and a dainty little supper prepared for her.</p> + +<p>Flossy did justice to her meal, and then went to bed, where she slept +the sleep of the innocent and the righteous, until Parker appeared at +her bedside the next morning with a breakfast-tray.</p> + +<p>"And there's Miss Meldreth in the sitting-room inquiring for you, ma'am. +Is she to come in? I wonder how she knew that you were here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I saw her accidentally yesterday afternoon," said Mrs. Vane, "and +told her to call! I want to know what she is doing in London. Yes—she +can come in."</p> + +<p>Parker accordingly summoned Miss Meldreth, and then, in obedience to a +sign from her mistress, retired rather sulkily. She was not very fond of +Mrs. Vane; but she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> resented any attempt on the part of a former servant +to come between her and her mistress' confidences; and she had an +impression that there was something between Mrs. Vane and Sabina which +she did not know.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sabina, how did the experiment succeed?" said Mrs. Vane easily. +In spite of her look of fatigue and her languid attitude amongst the +pillows, she spoke as if she had not a care in the world.</p> + +<p>"It succeeded all right," answered Sabina, a little shortly.</p> + +<p>"What did you find out?"</p> + +<p>"They're not real—his hair and beard, I mean. It's a wig. He's got +grayish dark-brown hair, and very little of it underneath, and whiskers. +He ain't nearly so old as we thought."</p> + +<p>"Tell me how you managed it," said Mrs. Vane—"from beginning to end."</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, he came in about five, as usual, to his tea; and I says to +aunt Eliza, 'I'll carry in the tray'; and I says, 'what a lot of milk +you've given him! I'll pour a little back.' And says she, 'you'd better +not, for he likes his tea half milk, and he'll only ring for more.' +'Well, then,' I says, 'it'll give me a chance of going in a second +time—and, you know, I like that.' So I emptied part of the milk away, +and then I put half of the stuff that you gave me into his jug, and I +took it into Mr. Dare's sitting-room. He looked at me very sharp when I +went in, almost as if he suspected me of something; but he didn't say +nothing, and neither did I. I set down his tray before him, and he pours +out the tea. Almost before I was out of the door, 'Miss Meldreth,' he +says, 'a little more milk, if you please.' 'Oh, didn't I bring you +enough, sir?' I says. 'If you'll pour that into your cup then, I'll send +out for some more, and it'll be here by the time you've done your first +cup. The cat knocked a basin of milk over this afternoon,' says I, 'and +so there isn't as much as usual in the house.'"</p> + +<p>"All that was pure invention, I suppose?" interrogated Mrs. Vane +cynically.</p> + +<p>"One had to say something, ma'am. He looked a little put out, and +hesitated for a minute or two; then he took and emptied the milk-jug +straight into his cup, and began to drink his tea; and I went out and +filled the jug again. I waited for a few minutes before I came back, and +I found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> him leaning back in his chair, with a sleepy look coming over +him directly. 'Miss Meldreth,' he said, 'I'm sorry to have troubled you, +for I really don't think I want any more tea'—and then he yawned fit to +take his head off—'and I'm going to lie down on the sofa to get a +little rest, for I am so uncommonly drowsy.'"</p> + +<p>"That seems a little sudden," said Mrs. Vane thoughtfully. "Are you sure +that he did not suspect anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am—I don't think so. Well, he laid down, and I went in and out +taking away the things; and, if you'll believe me, in ten minutes he was +fast asleep and snoring like—like a grampus!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Sabina?"</p> + +<p>"I let him stay so for nearly half an hour, so as to be sure that he was +thoroughly off, ma'am, and then I went up to him and touched his hair. +It was very nicely fitted on; but it was a wig for all that, and one +could easily see the dark hair underneath. The beard was more difficult +to move—there was some sticky stuff to fasten it on as well as an +elastic band behind the ears; but it was plainly a false one too. He's a +dark-looking man, almost like a gipsy, I should say, with hair that's +nearly black—something like his eyebrows. Do you think he's the man you +want, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it, Sabina. Do you want to earn three hundred pounds +besides your twenty?"</p> + +<p>"What, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"Three hundred pounds, I remember, was offered for the arrest of Andrew +Westwood, escaped prisoner from Portland prison, five years ago. This +man is Andrew Westwood, Sabina, who murdered Sydney Vane. You shall have +the money to keep as soon as it is paid."</p> + +<p>Sabina drew back aghast.</p> + +<p>"A murderer," she said—"and him such a nice quiet-looking old +gentleman! Why, aunt Eliza was always planning a match between him and +me! It's awful!"</p> + +<p>Flossy laughed grimly.</p> + +<p>"People don't carry their crimes in their face, Sabina," she said. "Now +you can go away and wait in the sitting-room until Parker has dressed +me. Then you will come with me to Scotland Yard—I believe that is the +place to go to. I want that man arrested before nightfall. Here are your +ten pounds."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>"Oh," said Sabina—"I wish I'd known!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you would not have helped me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure, ma'am; I don't like the idea of shutting the poor man up +for ever and ever in a gaol."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you don't mind the idea of murder?" said Mrs. Vane +sarcastically. "Don't be a fool, Sabina! Think of the three hundred +pounds too! You shall have it all, I promise you; and I will content +myself with the satisfaction of seeing him once more where he deserves +to be. Now call Parker."</p> + +<p>Sabina went back to the sitting-room, not daring to disobey. Her +reluctance, moreover, soon vanished as the thought of those three +hundred pounds took possession of her. She was absorbed in golden dreams +when Mrs. Vane rejoined her, and was quite prepared to do or say +whatever she was told.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Vane left Parker at the hotel with a message for the General, +should he appear, that she was going to her dentist's and thence to her +brother's lodgings. But she and Sabina Meldreth went straight to +Scotland Yard and had an interview with one of the police authorities.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane's statement was clear and concise. She was complimented on the +cleverness that she had displayed; and Sabina was shown a photograph of +Andrew Westwood taken while he was at Portland. She could not be quite +so certain that it was Mr. Dare as Flossy would have desired her to be; +but the evidence was on the whole so far conclusive, that it was +determined to arrest Mrs. Gunn's lodger on suspicion. If he could give a +satisfactory account of himself, and if he could not be identified, he +would of course have to be set free again; but it seemed possible, if +not probable, that Reuben Dare was the very man for whom the police had +searched so vainly and so long. A cab was summoned, and an inspector of +police as well as a detective in plain clothes and a constable politely +followed Sabina into it. Mrs. Vane thought it more becoming to her +position not to assist at the arrest. She therefore remained behind, +unable to resist the temptation of awaiting their return with the +prisoner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>She waited for nearly two hours. Then the cab came back again, and out +of it emerged two police-officers and Sabina; but no detective, and no +Reuben Dare. Flossy's heart beat quickly with a mixture of rage and +fear. Had she taken all this trouble for nothing, and had Reuben Dare +given a satisfactory account of himself after all?</p> + +<p>"The bird has flown, ma'am," said the inspector, entering the office +where she sat, with a rather crestfallen air. "He must have got some +notion of what was in the wind; for he went out this morning soon after +Miss Meldreth left the house, and evidently does not intend to come back +again. He has left his portmanteau; but he has emptied it of everything +that he could carry away, and left two sovereigns on the table in +payment of his rent and other expenses for the week."</p> + +<p>"He has gone to his daughter!" cried Flossy, starting up. "Why have you +not been to her? I gave you her address."</p> + +<p>"No use, ma'am," said the inspector, shaking his head. "We've been round +there already, and left Mullins to watch the house. But I expect we are +too late. We ought to have known last night. Amateurs in the detective +line are sometimes very clever; but they are not always sharp enough for +our work. The young woman has also disappeared."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mrs. Vane's unusual absence from her home had not been without its +results. Little Dick held high carnival all by himself in the +drawing-room and the conservatory; and Enid, feeling herself equally +freed from the restraint usually put upon her, wandered out into the +garden, and found a cool and shady spot where she could establish +herself at ease in a comfortable basket-chair. She did not feel disposed +for exertion; all that she wished to do was to lie still and to keep +silence. The old unpleasant feeling of illness had been growing upon her +more and more during the last few days. She was seldom free from nausea, +and suffered a great deal from faintness and palpitation of the heart. +As she lay back in her cushioned chair, her face looked very small and +white, the blue-veined eyelids singularly heavy. She was sorry to hear +the footsteps of a passer-by resounding on a pathway not far from the +spot which she had chosen; but she hoped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> that the gardener or caller, +or whoever it might chance to be, would go by without noticing her white +dress between the branches of the tree. But she was doomed to be +disappointed. The footsteps slackened, then turned aside. She was +conscious that some one's hand parted the branches—that some one's eyes +were regarding her; but she was too languid to look up. Let the stranger +think that she was asleep; then surely he would go upon his way and +leave her in peace.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane," said a deep manly voice that she did not expect to hear, "I +beg your pardon—do I disturb you?"</p> + +<p>Enid opened her heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Evandale—not at all, thank you!"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid that you were asleep," said the Rector, instantly coming +to her side; "and in that case I should have taken the still greater +liberty of awaking you, for there is a sharp east wind in spite of the +hot sunshine, and to sleep in the shade, as I feared that you were +doing, would be dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Enid gently.</p> + +<p>She sat erect for a minute or two, then gradually sank back amongst her +cushions, as if not equal to the task of maintaining herself upright. +The Rector stood beside her, a look of trouble in his kind frank eyes.</p> + +<p>"Shall I give you my arm back to the house?" he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, thank you—I am not ill, Mr. Evandale!"</p> + +<p>"But you are not well—at least, not very strong?"</p> + +<p>"Well—no. No—I suppose that I am not very strong."</p> + +<p>She turned away her head; but, notwithstanding the movement, he saw that +a great tear was gathering underneath the veined eyelid, ready to drop +as soon as ever it had a chance.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane," said the rector suddenly, "are you in any trouble? Excuse +me for asking; but your face tells its own story. You were happier a +year ago than you are now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," the girl sighed—"much happier!" and then the great tear +fell.</p> + +<p>"Can I do nothing to help you? My mission is to those who are in any +trouble; and, apart from that, I thought once that you looked upon me as +a friend." There was a touch of human emotion in the last words which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +seemed to bring him closer to Enid than the earlier sentence could have +done. "But I know you have no need of me," the Rector added sorrowfully; +"you have so many friends."</p> + +<p>"I have not a friend in the world!" the girl broke out; and then she +half hid her face with her transparently thin fingers, and tried to +conceal the fact that she was weeping.</p> + +<p>"Not a friend, Miss Vane?" Mr. Evandale's tone betrayed complete +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Whom would you call my friend?" said Enid, almost passionately. "Not a +man like my poor uncle, duped, blinded, deceived by any one who chooses +to cajole him? Not a woman like his wife, who hates me, and wants me out +of the way lest I should claim a share of the estate? Oh, I know what I +am saying—I know too well! I can trust neither of them—for he is weak +and under her control, and she has never been a friend to me or mine. I +do not know what to do or where to go for counsel."</p> + +<p>"I heard a rumor that you were engaged to marry Mr. Hubert Lepel," said +the Rector gravely. "If that be true, he surely should be counted +amongst your friends."</p> + +<p>"A man," said Enid, with bitterness of which he would not have thought +her capable, "who cares for me less than the last new play or the latest +<i>débutante</i> at Her Majesty's! Should I call him a friend?"</p> + +<p>"It is not true then that you are engaged to him?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that I was," said Enid, still very bitterly. "He asked me to +marry him; I thought that he loved me, and I—I consented. But my uncle +has now withdrawn the half consent he gave. I am to be asked again, they +tell me, when I am twenty. I am their chattel—a piece of goods to be +given away and taken back. And then you ask me if I am happy, or if I +call the man who treats me so lightly a friend!"</p> + +<p>"I see—I see. But matters may yet turn out better than you think. Mr. +Lepel is probably only kept back by the General's uncertainty of action. +I can quite conceive that it would put a man into a very awkward +position."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that Hubert cares much," said Enid, with a little +sarcasm in her tone.</p> + +<p>"He must care!" said Evandale impetuously.</p> + +<p>"Why?" the girl asked, suddenly turning her innocent eyes upon him in +some surprise. "Why should he care?"</p> + +<p>The Rector's face glowed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>"Because he—he must care." The answer was ridiculously inadequate, he +knew, but he had nothing else to say. "How can he help caring when he +sees that you care?—unless he has no more feeling than a log or a block +of stone." He smote his hand angrily against the trunk of a tree beside +him as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Still Enid looked at him with the same expression of amazement. But +little by little his emotion seemed to affect her too—the blush to pass +from his face to her pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>"But—but," she stammered, at length, "you are wrong—in that way—in +the way you think. I do not care."</p> + +<p>"You do not care? For him do you not care?"</p> + +<p>"As a cousin," said Enid faintly—"yes."</p> + +<p>"Not as a lover?" The Rector spoke so low she could hardly hear a word.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not as a husband?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you consent to marry him?"</p> + +<p>One question had followed another so naturally that the strangeness of +each had not been felt. But Enid's cheeks were crimson now.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know—don't ask me! I felt miserable, and I thought that he +would be a help to me—and he isn't. I can't talk to him—I can't trust +him—I can't ask him what to do! And we are both bound, and yet we are +not bound; and it is as wretched for him as it is for me—and I don't +know what to do."</p> + +<p>"Could you trust me better than you have trusted him?" said the Rector +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>He knew that he was not acting quite in accordance with what men usually +termed the laws of honor; but it seemed to him that the time had come +for contempt of a merely conventional law. Was Perseus, arriving ere the +sacrifice of Andromeda was completed, to hesitate in rescuing her +because the sea-monster had prior rights, forsooth? Was he—Maurice +Evandale—to stand aside while this gentle delicate creature—the only +woman that he had ever loved—was badgered into an early grave by +cold-hearted kinsmen who wanted to sacrifice her to some family whim? He +would do what he could to save her! There was something imperious in his +heart which would not let him hold his tongue.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>"Trust you? Oh, yes—I could trust you with anything!" said Enid, half +unconscious of the full meaning of her words.</p> + +<p>"Do you understand me?" said Mr. Evandale. He dropped upon one knee +beside her chair, so as to bring his face to a level with hers, and +gently took both her hands between his own as he spoke. "I want you to +trust me with your life—with yourself! Make no mistake this time, Enid. +Could you not only trust me, but care for me? For, if you can, I will do +my best to make you happy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" said Enid. She looked at him as if frightened, then +withdrew her hands from his clasp and put them before her face. "It is +so sudden—I never thought——"</p> + +<p>"You never thought that I loved you? No; I have kept silence because I +thought that you loved another. But, if that is not true, and if you are +only trying to uphold a family arrangement which is painful perhaps to +both of you, why, then, there is nothing to keep me silent! I step in +and offer you a way out of the difficulty. If you can love me, I am +ready to give you my whole life, Enid. I have never in my life loved a +woman as I love you. And I think that you could care for me a little; I +seem to read it in your eyes—your poor tired eyes! Rest on me, my +darling—trust to me—and we will fight through your difficulties +together."</p> + +<p>He had drawn her gently towards him as he spoke. She did not resist; her +head rested on his shoulder, her slender fingers stole again into his +hand; she drew a sigh of perfect well-being and content. This man, at +any rate, she could trust with all her heart.</p> + +<p>"Do you love me a little, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"You are not yet sure?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure of anything; I have been so tossed about—so +perplexed—so troubled. I feel as if I could be at rest with you—is +that enough?"</p> + +<p>"For the present. We will wait; and, if you feel more for me, or if you +feel less—whatever happens—you must let me know, and I will be +content."</p> + +<p>"You are very good! But, oh"—with a sudden shrinking movement—"I—I +shall have broken my word!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>"Yes; I am sorry that you have to do it. But better break your word than +marry a man you do not love."</p> + +<p>"And who does not love me," said Enid, in an exceedingly low tone.</p> + +<p>"Are you really sure of that, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed—indeed I think so! He is so cold and indifferent, and we never +agree when we talk together—he seems impatient of my ideas. Our tastes +are quite different; I am sure that I should not be happy with him, nor +he with me."</p> + +<p>"You will be brave then, my love, and tell him so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." But again she shrank from him. "Oh, what shall I do if she—if +Flossy tells me that I must?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale frowned.</p> + +<p>"Are you so much afraid of Mrs. Vane?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said timorously—"I am. She—she frightens me! Oh, don't be +angry! I know I am very weak; but indeed I cannot help it!"—and she +burst into despairing tears.</p> + +<p>"My darling, my poor little Enid, I am not angry at all! We will brave +her together, you and I. You shall not be afraid of her any longer; you +will know that I am always near you to protect you—to strengthen you. +And you will trust to me?"</p> + +<p>She tried to answer "Yes;" but her strength suddenly seemed to die away +from her. She slipped from his arm and lay back upon the cushions; a +bluish tinge overspread her lips; her face turned deathly white; she +seemed upon the verge of a swoon.</p> + +<p>Evandale, alarmed as he was, did not lose his presence of mind. +Fortunately he had in his pocket a flask of brandy which he had been +about to carry to a sick parishioner. In a moment he had it uncorked and +was compelling her to swallow a mouthful or two; then he fanned her with +the great black fan which had lain upon her lap; and finally he +remembered that he had seen a great watering-can full of water standing +in the garden path not far away, and found that it had not been removed. +The cold water with which he moistened her lips and brow brought her to +herself; in a few minutes she was able to look up at him and smile, and +presently declared herself quite well. But Evandale was very grave.</p> + +<p>"Are you often faint, Enid?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>"Rather often; but this"—with a little tinge of color in her pale +cheeks—"this is just a common kind of faintness—it is not like the +other."</p> + +<p>"I know; but I do not like you to turn faint in this way. May I ask you +a few questions about yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—I know that you are quite a doctor!" said Enid, smiling at him +with perfect confidence.</p> + +<p>So the Rector put his questions—and very strange questions some of them +were, thought Enid, though he was wonderfully correct in guessing what +she felt. Yes, she was nearly always faint and sick; she had a strange +burning sensation sometimes in her chest; she had violent palpitations, +and odd feelings of a terrible fright and depression. But the doctor had +assured her that she had not the faintest trace of organic disease of +the heart; and that these functional disturbances would speedily pass +away. Mr. Ingledew had sounded her and told her that she need not be +alarmed—and of course he was a very clever man.</p> + +<p>"Enid," said the Rector at last, after a long pause, and rather as if he +was trying to make a sort of joke which, after all, was not amusing, "I +am going to ask you what you will think a very foolish question. Have +you an enemy in the house—here, at Beechfield Hall?"</p> + +<p>Enid's eyes dilated with a look of terror.</p> + +<p>"Why—why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"It is a ridiculous question, is it not? But I thought that perhaps +somebody had been playing on your nerves, and wanting to frighten you +about yourself. Is there anybody who might possibly do so?"</p> + +<p>Her lips parted twice before any articulate word issued from them. At +last he caught the answer—</p> + +<p>"Only Flossy."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Do you take any medicine?" he asked, at length.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mr. Ingledew sent me some."</p> + +<p>"What is it like?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; it is not disagreeable. Flossy looked at it, and said +that it was a calming mixture."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see the prescription; perhaps it does not quite suit +you. And who gives it to you?"</p> + +<p>"I take it myself; it is kept in my bed-room."</p> + +<p>"And what else do you drink and eat?" said the Rector, smiling. "You +see, I am quite a learned physician. I want to know all about your +habits."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>"Oh, I eat and drink just what other people do."</p> + +<p>"Are you thirsty at night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—very. How did you guess that? I have orange water or lemonade put +beside me every night, so that I may drink it if I wake up."</p> + +<p>And then Evandale, who was watching her intently, saw that her face +changed as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly recurred to her.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"It was only a dream I have had several times—it troubles me whenever I +think of it; but I know that it is only a dream."</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me what it was? I should like to hear! Lay your head +back on my shoulder again and tell me about it."</p> + +<p>Enid sighed again, but it was with bliss.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall not dream it if I tell it all to you," she murmured. +"It seems to me sometimes as if—in the middle of the night—I wake up +and see some one in the room—a white figure standing by my bed; and she +is always pouring something into my glass; or sometimes she offers it to +me and makes me drink; and she looks at me as if she hated me; and I—I +am afraid."</p> + +<p>"But who is it, my darling?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is nobody, because nobody else sees it but me. I made +Parker sleep with me two or three times; but she said that she saw +nothing, and that she was certain that nobody had come into the room. I +suppose it was a—a ghost!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, dearest!"</p> + +<p>"Then it was an optical illusion, and I am going out of my mind," said +Enid despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Was the figure like that of anyone you know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Flossy."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Vane? And you think that she does not like you?"</p> + +<p>"I know that she hates me."</p> + +<p>"My darling, it is simply a nightmare—nothing more." But he felt her +trembling in his arms.</p> + +<p>"It is more than a nightmare, I am sure. You know that people used to +say that I might go out of my mind if those terrible seizures attacked +me? I have not had so many of them lately; but I feel weaker than ever I +did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>—I feel as if I were going to die. Perhaps it would be better if I +were to die, and then I should not be a trouble and a care to anybody. +And it would be better to die than to go mad, would it not?"</p> + +<p>"Enid," said the Rector very gravely, "I believe that your malady is +entirely one of the nerves, and that it can be controlled. You must try +to believe, my darling, that you could conquer it if you tried. When you +feel the approach of one of these seizures, as you call them, resolve +that you will not give way. By a determined effort I think that it is +possible for you to ward them off. Will you try, for my sake?"</p> + +<p>"I will try," said Enid wearily; "but I am afraid that trying will be +useless."</p> + +<p>"And another thing—I do not believe that Mr. Ingledew is giving you the +right kind of medicine. I want you quietly to stop taking it for a week, +and to stop drinking lemonade or orange-water at night. In a week's time +let us see how you feel. If you are no better, I will talk to Ingledew +myself. Will you promise me that? Say, 'Yes, Maurice.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Maurice—I promise you."</p> + +<p>"And one more thing, my own dearest. When that nightmare attacks you +again, try to conquer your fear of it. Do not lie still; rise up and see +what it really is. You may find that your dreamy state has misled you, +and that what you took for a threatening figure is merely that of a +servant, who has had orders to come and see whether you were sleeping or +not. Nightmares often resolve themselves into very harmless things. And +of the supernatural I do not think that you need be alarmed; God is +always near you—He will not suffer you to be frightened by phantoms of +the night. Remember when you wake that I shall be thinking of +you—praying for you. I am often up very late, and I do not sleep +heavily. I shall probably be awake thinking of you, or I may be praying +for you, darling, in my very dreams. Will you think of that and try to +be brave?"</p> + +<p>"I feel braver now," said the girl simply. "Yes, Maurice, I will do all +you ask. I do not think that I shall feel afraid again."</p> + +<p>He left her soon afterwards, and returned on the following morning, to +hear, not with surprise, that she had slept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> better, that she had had no +nightmare, and that she suffered less from nausea and faintness than +usual. Mrs. Vane was away for a second night, and he had time to see +Enid again before her return. She had not touched her medicine-bottles, +and there was again a slight but marked improvement in her condition. +Mr. Evandale induced her to fetch one of the bottles of Mr. Ingledew's +mixture, which he put into his pocket and conveyed it to his own home. +Here he smelt, tasted, and to some extent analysed it. The result was +such as to plunge him for a short time into deep and troubled thought.</p> + +<p>"I expected it," he said at last, with an impatient sigh. "The symptoms +were those of digitalis-poisoning. There is not enough in this +concoction to do her much harm however. It is given to her in some other +form—in that lemonade at night perhaps. Well, I shall soon see whether +my suspicions are correct when Mrs. Vane comes home."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia, unconscious of the plots of which she was at present the +innocent centre, was meanwhile contending with a sensation of profound +discouragement, mental and physical. She had a severe headache, and was +deeply depressed in spirits. She had lain awake almost entirely for two +nights trying to reconcile her ideal of Hubert with the few words that +had escaped him—words which surely pointed to a darker knowledge, a +deadlier guilt than any which her love could of itself have attributed +to him. Had he known then all the time that her father was not a +murderer? Was her father's theory correct? Had he been screening his +sister at the poor working-man's expense? Cynthia's blood ran cold at +the thought, for, in that case, what side was she to take? She could not +abandon her father—she might abandon Hubert; but, strange mystery of a +woman's heart, she could not love him less. What she could do she knew +not. For Enid's sake indeed she had set him free; but in the hour of her +anguish she questioned her right to do so; for surely, if he knew more +of the manner of Sydney Vane's death than the world knew, there was even +a greater barrier between him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> and Enid than between him and Cynthia +herself. Enid would give him up—Cynthia felt sure of that; and, if she +gave him up too, he would be indeed alone. The world might say that he +deserved his loneliness; but she could not take the world's view. To her +the man that she loved was sacred; his faults were to be screened, his +crimes forgiven. Whatever he did, she could never cease to love him. So +she said to herself; but, after all, her hour of trial had not come; she +did not know as yet all that Hubert Lepel had done.</p> + +<p>She had seen Hubert leave her with a sensation of the deepest dismay. +She felt that a crisis had come and gone, and that in some way she had +failed to turn it to the best account. In spite of her expressed resolve +to see Hubert no more, she was disappointed that he did not return to +her. She expected to see him on the following day—to remark his face at +a concert where she was to sing on the Wednesday evening. He had left +her on a Tuesday; she was sure that she would get a letter from him on +Thursday. But Thursday was almost over, and she had neither seen nor +heard from him. Had he resolved to give her up? Was he ill? Why had she +not heard a word from him since Tuesday? She racked her brain to +discover a cause for his silence other than her own wild appeal to him; +for she did not believe that that alone would suffice to keep him away. +But it was all of no avail.</p> + +<p>Another source of anxiety for her lay in the fact that she had also not +heard from her father since Tuesday morning. She did not know whether he +had left Mrs. Gunn's house or not, and did not like to risk the sending +of a letter. That he trusted far too much to his disguise Cynthia was +well aware. His rashness made her sometimes quiver all over with +positive fright when she thought of it. He was running a terrible +risk—and for what cause? At first, simply because he wanted to see his +daughter; now because he fancied that he had found a clue to the +murderer of Sydney Vane—a slight, faint, elusive clue, but one which +seemed to him worth following up. And Cynthia, who at first had +hesitated to leave England, would now have been glad to start with him +at once, if only she could get him away. She began to fear that he would +stay at any risk.</p> + +<p>"You are losing your beauty, child," Madame della<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> Scala had +discontentedly said to her that morning at breakfast-time; "you have +grown ten years older in the last week. And it is the height of the +season, and you have dozens of engagements! To-night, now, you sing at +Lady Beauclerc's—do you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madame; but I shall be all right by that time. I have a headache +this morning."</p> + +<p>"You are too white, child, and your eyes are heavy. It does not suit +your style to be colorless. You had better get my maid to attend to you, +before you go out to-night. She is incomparable at complexions."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—I shall not need rouge when I begin to sing," said Cynthia, +laughing rather joylessly; "the color will come of itself."</p> + +<p>"I know one who always used to bring it," said Madame, casting a sharp +glance at the girl's pale face. "He had it in his pocket, I suppose, or +at the tips of his fingers—and I never saw it fail with you. Where is +the magician gone, Cynthia <i>mia</i>? Where is Mr. Lepel—<i>ce bel homme</i> who +brought the rouge in his pocket? Why, the very mention of his name does +wonders! The beautiful red color is back again now!"</p> + +<p>"I do not know where Mr. Lepel is," said Cynthia, wishing heartily that +her cheeks would not betray her.</p> + +<p>"You have not quarrelled?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, Madame."</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, you have! But you are a very silly child, and ought to know +better after all that you have gone through. Quarrelling with Mr. Lepel +means quarrelling with your bread-and-butter, as you English people term +it. Why not keep on good terms with him until your training, at any +rate, is complete?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia raised her dark eyes, with a new light in them.</p> + +<p>"I am to be friendly with him as long as I need his help? Is that it, +Madame? I do not quite agree with you; and I think the time has come +when I must be independent now."</p> + +<p>"Independent! What can you do?" said Madame, throwing up her hands. "A +baby like you—with that face and that voice! You want very careful +guarding, my dear, or you will spoil your career. You must not think of +independence for the next ten years."</p> + +<p>Cynthia meditated a little. She did not want to tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> Madame della +Scala, who was a confirmed chatterer, that she thought of going to +America; and yet, knowing that her departure would probably be sudden +and secret, she did not want to omit the opportunity of saying a few +necessary words.</p> + +<p>"If I took any steps of which you did not approve, dear Madame, I hope +that you would forgive me and believe that I was truly grateful to you +for all your kindness to me."</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?" said Madame shrewdly. "Are you going to be +married, <i>cara mia</i>? Is an elopement in store for us? <i>Dio mio</i>, there +will be a fine fuss about it in the newspapers if you do anything +extraordinary! You are becoming the fashion, my dear, as they say in +England; and, when you are the fashion, your success is assured."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to do anything extraordinary," said Cynthia, forcing a +smile, "and I do not mean to elope with anybody, dear Madame; I only +wanted to thank you for all that you have done for me. And now I must +practise for the evening. Perhaps music will do my headache good."</p> + +<p>But, even if music benefited her head, it did not raise her spirits. +Each time that the postman's knock vibrated through the house, her heart +beat so violently that she was obliged to pause in her singing until she +had ascertained that no letter had come for her. No letter—no message +from either Hubert or her father—what did this silence mean?</p> + +<p>The day wore on drearily. She would not go out, much to Madame's +vexation; she practised, she tried to read, she looked at her +dresses—she tried all the usual feminine arts for passing time, going +so far even as to take up some needlework, which she generally detested; +but, in spite of all, the day was cruelly long and blank. She dined +early in the afternoon, as she was going to sing that evening; and it +was about seven o'clock that she resolved to go and dress for the party +to which she was bound, saying to herself that all hope was over for +that day—that she was not likely to hear from Hubert Lepel that night.</p> + +<p>Just as she was going up-stairs a knock came to the door. She lingered +on the landing, wondering whether any visitor had come for her; and it +was with a great leap of the heart that she heard her own name +mentioned, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> saw the maid running up the stairs to overtake her +before she reached her room.</p> + +<p>"It's Jenkins—Mr. Lepel's man, miss," said Mary breathlessly; "and he +wants to know if he can speak to you for a moment."</p> + +<p>Cynthia was half-way down-stairs before the sentence was out of the +girl's mouth. Jenkins was standing in the hall. He was an +amiable-looking fellow, and, although he had spoken flippantly enough to +Sabina Meldreth of his master's friendship for Miss West, he had a +genuine admiration for her. Cynthia had won his heart by kindly words +and looks; she had found out that he had a wife and some young children, +and had made them presents, and visited the new baby in her own +inimitably frank, gracious, friendly way; and Jenkins was secretly of +opinion that his master could not do better than marry Miss Cynthia +West, although she was but a singer after all. He spoke to her with an +air of great deference.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I thought that I'd better come and tell +you about Mr. Lepel."</p> + +<p>"Have you a message—a note?" cried Cynthia eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. Mr. Lepel's not able to write, nor to send messages. Mr. +Lepel's ill in bed, ma'am, and the doctor's afraid that it is +brain-fever."</p> + +<p>Cynthia gasped a little.</p> + +<p>"I thought he—he must be ill," she said, rather to herself than to +Jenkins, who however heard, and was struck with sympathetic emotion +immediately.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd think so, ma'am; and therefore I made so bold as to +look round," he said respectfully. "He's not been himself, so to speak, +for the last few days; and when his sister—Mrs. Vane—was up from +Beechfield to see him, he seemed took worse; and Mrs. Vane she sent me +for a doctor."</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Vane with him now, then?" Cynthia asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. She did not stop long; but I expect that she'll be round +either to-night or to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"And is Mr. Lepel to have nobody to nurse him?" asked Cynthia +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"There's my wife, ma'am, who is used to nursing; and, if my master is +worse, a trained nurse can be sent for. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> thought you would like to +know, ma'am. I've been talking to the landlady, and she's quite +agreeable for my wife to come on for a bit and help to wait on Mr. +Lepel. She's there now."</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you for coming, Jenkins."</p> + +<p>"I thought, ma'am," continued Jenkins, "that, if ever you was passing +that way, you might like to look in maybe to ask after Mr. Lepel, you +know. If you was good enough always to ask for my wife, you see, ma'am, +she could tell you how my master was, or any news about him."</p> + +<p>Cynthia grasped the situation at once, and felt her face flush as she +listened to the man's awkward kindly words. Evidently Jenkins knew that +she was unacquainted with Mr. Lepel's family, and was trying to save her +from the unpleasantness of meeting any of them unexpectedly. The thought +gave her a moment's bitter humiliation; then she saw the kindliness of +the motive and felt a throb of gratitude.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to tell me that, Jenkins," she said, frankly +putting out her hand to him, "and I am very much obliged to you. I shall +come to-morrow; it is impossible for me to come to-night."</p> + +<p>Jenkins was not accustomed to have his hand shaken by those whom he +served, and Cynthia's action embarrassed him considerably. He was glad +when she went on to ask a question.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that Mr. Lepel is very—very ill?" There was a pathetic +tremor in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, he don't know nothing; he lies there and talks to +himself—that's all."</p> + +<p>"He is unconscious! Oh!" cried Cynthia, as if the words had given her a +stab of pain. "Does he talk about any one—anything?" she asked +wistfully.</p> + +<p>"We can't tell much of what he says, ma'am. But I think he was mainly +anxious to see you. He kep' on sending messages to you; and that's +partly why I come round this evening."</p> + +<p>Cynthia wrung her hands.</p> + +<p>"And I can't go—at least to-night; and I must—I must!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you take on, ma'am," said Jenkins, evidently much moved by her +distress. "I wouldn't trouble about to-night if I was you. Mrs. Vane may +be there again, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> the General, and a host o' folks. It would only +bother them, and do my master no good, if you went to-night. To-morrow +morning'll be the time. And now I must be going; for I could only get +away while my wife was there, and she wanted to get back to the children +by nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>So Jenkins took his leave, and Cynthia went up to her room to dress for +her party.</p> + +<p>What a mockery it seemed to her to don her pretty frock, her ornaments, +her flowers—to see herself a radiant vision of youth and loveliness in +her mirror—while all the time her heart was bleeding for her lover's +suffering, and he lay tossing upon a bed of sickness, calling vainly +upon her name! If she could have done as she liked, she would have +relinquished all her engagements and sought his bed-side at once. +But—fortunately perhaps—she was bound, for many reasons, to sing at +Lady Beauclerc's party. Madame della Scala and others would be injured +in reputation, if not in pocket, should she fail to appear. And, +although she would not mind sacrificing her own interests, she could not +sacrifice those of her friends even for the sake of her love.</p> + +<p>She was said never to have looked so brilliant or sung so magnificently +before. There was a new strange touch of pathos in her eyes and +voice—something that stirred the hearts of those who heard. The new +vibration in her voice was put down to genius by her audience, and not +by any means to emotion.</p> + +<p>"That girl will equal Patti if she goes on like this," said one musical +amateur to another that evening.</p> + +<p>"But she won't go on like this," his friend replied. "She'll marry, or +break down, or something; she won't last; she won't be tied down to a +professional life—that's my prophecy. She'll bolt!"</p> + +<p>The amateur laughed him to scorn. But he had reason to alter his tone +when some years later his friend reminded him of his prediction, and +coupled it with the information that Cynthia West's last appearance as a +singer had been at Lady Beauclerc's party. She never sang in public +again.</p> + +<p>But she had no idea, during the evening in question, that it was +absolutely her last appearance. Her mind had never been so much set on a +professional career as it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> was just then. She meant to go to America +with her father certainly, but to take engagements as a vocalist in the +States. That she was at all likely to cease work so suddenly and so soon +never once occurred to her.</p> + +<p>She was glad when the evening was over—glad to get back to her own +quiet room, and to lay certain plans for the morrow. She would go to +Hubert in the morning—not to stay of course, but to see whether he was +well nursed and tended; and she would take with her the ornaments that +he had presented to her, and which she had meant to give back. She would +get Mrs. Jenkins to put them away for her in some safe drawer or box; +and, when he was better, he would find them and understand. She would +accept nothing more from his hands. Yet, with all her pride and her +sense of injured dignity, she wept half the night at the thought that he +was suffering and that she could do nothing to alleviate his pain.</p> + +<p>She set off the next morning, between nine and ten o'clock, with a +little black bag in her hand. It was larger than she needed it to be for +mere conveyance of the jewelry which she wanted to restore; but she +meant to fill it with fruit—black tempting grapes and red-cheeked +hot-house peaches—for the invalid before she reached the house. She +left word with Mary that she did not know when she would return, and +that Madame was not to wait luncheon or dinner on her account. This +message, and the fact of her carrying away a bag, led some persons to +believe that she was acting a part in a long-premeditated scheme when +she left Madame della Scala's house that morning. But no scheme was +present in any shape or form to Cynthia's mind.</p> + +<p>She did not at once see a hansom, and therefore she walked for a few +yards along the broad pavement of the Bayswater Road, where at that hour +not many passers-by were to be encountered. And here, to her great +surprise, she met her father—but a father so changed, so utterly +transformed in appearance, that she would not have known him but for his +voice. He wore an overcoat that she had never seen before, and a tall +hat; he had got rid of the white hair and beard, and had even shaved off +his whiskers; he remained a lean, brown-faced, resolute-looking man, +more refined, but decidedly more commonplace, than he had been before. +This man would pass easily in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> crowd; people used to stop and gaze +after Reuben Dare.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so thankful—so glad!" cried Cynthia, when the meaning of the +change burst upon her. "Nobody would recognise you now, father; your own +face is a greater disguise than any amount of snowy hair. What made you +alter yourself in this way?"</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," said her father, drawing her into a quiet little side-street, +and speaking in low earnest tones, "I have been a great fool! I wish I +had taken your advice earlier. That woman Meldreth suspects me. For +aught I know, I am already watched and followed. There is not a moment +to lose. If I mean to escape, I'd better get out of the country as fast +as I can—or find some snug corner where I can lie close until they have +left off looking for me. There is a cab—a four-wheeler. Let us get into +that, and we can talk as we go. I don't see any one who appears to be +dogging me at present. Where were you going?"</p> + +<p>"I will go wherever you go, father," said Cynthia.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + + +<p>Westwood was silent until he found himself with his daughter inside the +cab.</p> + +<p>"Where did you tell him to go?" he then asked of her.</p> + +<p>"To St. Pancras Station. I thought that we could more easily evade +watchers at a big railway-station than anywhere else."</p> + +<p>"They will watch the stations," said the man. "I may have got the start, +and I may not. The stations are hardly safe."</p> + +<p>"Let the man drive on for a few minutes while you tell me the reason why +you think you are watched," said Cynthia, suspecting panic; "he cannot +be going far out of the way, and, if we change our minds we can tell him +so presently."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Westwood, evidently recovering nerve and self-possession +under the influence of his daughter's calmer manner and speaking in an +easier tone, "it's that woman Meldreth—she is a spy. Who do you think +came to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> house yesterday but Mrs. Vane? The very woman who has most +reason to dread me and to wish to get me shut up in prison, if my idea +of her is true! I think she wanted to see me with her own eyes. She +looked at me as if she would read me through and through."</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet her, father?"</p> + +<p>"In the street. I was asked to show her Mrs. Gunn's house. It was pure +accident of course, but it gave us an opportunity of looking at each +other."</p> + +<p>"Did you go back to the house after that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, my girl, because I had left my portmanteau there with +papers and money, without which I should soon be in 'Queer Street.' Yes, +I went back, and found Mrs. Vane gone. But the Meldreth woman had a +queer look about her, and I suspected what she was about, though I don't +know that I could have balked her but for my peculiar constitution. +Sleeping-stuff don't have no effect on me, my dear—it never had. They +tried it in the prison when I was there at first, and couldn't sleep for +thinking of the woods and the open fields and my own little girl—and it +nearly drove me mad. Sabina Meldreth gave me some sleeping-stuff in my +tea last night."</p> + +<p>"What for, father?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I wanted to know. When I felt the old pricks and twitches +beginning, I pretended to be very sleepy, and I lay down on the sofa and +went off, as she thought, into a deep slumber. Presently she came in, +and—what do you think, Cynthy?—she began to examine my hair and beard! +Of course she soon saw that it would come off; and then she laughed a +little to herself. 'Twenty pounds for this job,' she said—'and more +perhaps afterwards. I wonder what Mrs. Vane's up to now? I'll be off to +her first thing to-morrow morning. It's somebody she's got a spite +against, I'll be bound!' And then she went away and left me alone, +having done her work."</p> + +<p>"So then you came away?"</p> + +<p>"Not immediate, my girl. I was off at five o'clock this morning. I got +shaved at a little place in Gray's Inn Road—after disposing of my wig +and beard elsewhere, you know; and I bought this rig-out at two +different places in Holborn. Then I breakfasted at a coffee-stall and +came on here. They'll only just have found out that I've gone by now—if +indeed so soon—unless they have found it out accidental-like."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>"The woman—Meldreth is her name?—would not know what to do without +consulting Mrs. Vane first, would she?"</p> + +<p>"No. But then we don't know where Mrs. Vane is—she may have been in the +house all the time for aught we know."</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Cynthia decisively. "She would have come herself to +look at you when Miss Meldreth was examining your hair if she had been +in the house."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps she would. You've got a head on your shoulders, +Cynthia—that you have! Miss Meldreth would have to get to Mrs. Vane and +tell her this morning, as she said; then Mrs. Vane would let the police +know. That gives us till about eleven or twelve o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Two hours' start. Is not that sufficient?"</p> + +<p>Westwood shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The first thing they will do is to telegraph to all the ports."</p> + +<p>"But you look so different now, father! And I can make myself look quite +different too."</p> + +<p>"You! Why, you don't suppose I am going to let you come with me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, father dear, I cannot leave you now!"</p> + +<p>"It would be madness, Cynthia. You are well known, and you would be too +easily recognised. Everybody turns to look at a handsome girl like you."</p> + +<p>"If you can disguise yourself, so can I."</p> + +<p>"We have not time for that. Besides, why do you want to leave England so +soon and so suddenly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't—I don't!" said Cynthia, suddenly trembling and clinging to +him. "Only I can't bear the idea of your being without me now when you +are in danger."</p> + +<p>"I can send for you, my lass, when I am safe. You will come then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"You'll come straight, without waiting for any good-byes or to tell any +one where you are going?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father—unless——"</p> + +<p>"Well? Unless what?"</p> + +<p>"Father, Mr. Lepel is very ill. They say that he has brain-fever. If he +were dying, you would let me wait to say good-bye to him?"</p> + +<p>She had put her hand through his arm, and was leaning against his +shoulder. Her father looked at her sideways, with a rough pity mingled +with admiration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>"Were you going to him now, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"I've interrupted you. It's hard on you to have a father like me +although he is an innocent man."</p> + +<p>"I honor my father and I love him," was Cynthia's swift response. "My +greatest grief is that he cannot be near me always."</p> + +<p>There was a silence; the cab had quitted the smoother roads and entered +on a course of rattling stones. It was difficult to speak so as to be +heard; but Westwood raised his voice.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you need watching over as much as ever you did when +you was a little baby-girl. I don't see why you should be abandoned in +your need any more than you're willing to abandon me. If I can be any +sort of help to you, I won't try to leave London at all. I can hide away +somewhere no doubt as other folks have done. There are places at the +East-end where no one would notice me. Shall I stay, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"Dear father! No, you will be no help to me—no comfort—if you are in +danger!"</p> + +<p>He put his arm round her and pressed her close to him; but he did not +speak again until they reached the station. The streets were noisy, and +conversation was well-nigh impossible. When they got out, Cynthia paid +the cabman and dismissed him. Her father walked forward, glancing round +him suspiciously as he went. It was a quarter to eleven o'clock. Cynthia +joined him in a dark corner of the great entrance-hall.</p> + +<p>"I will take your ticket," she said, "where will you go?"</p> + +<p>Westwood hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"It's not safe, Cynthia. I will not go at all. I should only be arrested +at the other end; I am sure of it. I'll tell you what we will do. You +may go and take a ticket for Liverpool and bring it to me—in full view +of that policeman there, who is eyeing us so suspiciously. Then you must +say 'good-bye' and walk straight out of the station. I will mingle with +the crowd on the platform; but I will not go by train—I'll slip +eastward and lose myself in Whitechapel. I've made up my mind—I don't +start for Liverpool to-day."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>"Perhaps you are right," said Cynthia, in a faltering voice. "But how +shall I know where you are?"</p> + +<p>"Better for you not to know, my dear. I shall put them off the scent in +this way, and you will have no idea of what has become of me. Now get my +ticket and say good-bye—as affectionate and as public as you like. It +will all tell in the long run; that bobby has his eye on us."</p> + +<p>Cynthia did as she was desired. Her father kissed her pale, agitated +face several times, and made his adieux rather unnecessarily +conspicuous. Then Cynthia left the station, and her father made his way +to the platform, where he mingled with the crowd, and finally got away +by another door, and turned his face towards the illimitable east of +London.</p> + +<p>Cynthia did not take a cab again. It was a relief to her to walk, and +she was in a neighborhood that she knew very well. She turned into +Euston Square, then down Woburn Place, and through Tavistock Square to +Russell Square. She could not stay away from Hubert any longer.</p> + +<p>She knew the house—it was the place to which she had come one autumn +day when Mr. Lepel wanted to hear her sing. She had never been there +since. The square looked strangely different to her; the trees in the +garden, in spite of their green livery, gave no beauty to the scene. It +was as cheerless and as dark as it had been on the cold autumnal morning +when she had gone to learn her fate from the critic's lips; and yet the +sun was shining now, and the sky overhead was blue. But Cynthia's heart +was sadder than it had been in the days of her friendlessness and +poverty.</p> + +<p>She rang the bell and asked for Mrs. Jenkins, who appeared almost at +once and led the girl into Hubert's deserted sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, miss, I'm so glad you have come!" she said. "For we can't get Mr. +Lepel to be quiet at all, and we were just on the point of sending off +for you, because he calls for you constant, and the doctor, he says, +'could you get the lady that he talks about to come and sit beside him +for a little time? That might calm him,' he says; 'and if we calm him, +we may save his life.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, is he so ill as that?" cried Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"He couldn't be much worse, miss, the doctor says.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> Can you stay, miss, +now you're here? Just for an hour or two at any rate!"</p> + +<p>"I can stay as long as I can be of any use," said the girl desperately. +"Nobody wants me—nobody will ask for me; it is better for me to be +here."</p> + +<p>The words fell unheeded on Mrs. Jenkins' ears. All that she cared about +was the welfare of her husband's employer. Both Jenkins and his wife +adored Mr. Lepel, and the thought that he might die in his illness had +been agony to them—and not on their own account alone. They genuinely +believed in Miss West's power of soothing and calming him, and Mrs. +Jenkins could not do enough for the girl's comfort.</p> + +<p>"You'll take off your things here, miss, will you not? And then I'll +take you to Mr. Lepel's own room. But wouldn't you like a glass of wine +or a cup of tea or something before you go in? You look terrible tired +and harassed like, miss; and what you are going to see isn't exactly +what will do you good. Poor Mr. Lepel he do look dreadful—and that's +the long and the short of it!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want anything, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins," said Cynthia, faintly +smiling; "and I should like to go to Mr. Lepel at once."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever seen anything of sick people, miss, or done any nursing?"</p> + +<p>"Never, Mrs. Jenkins."</p> + +<p>"Don't be too frightened then, miss, when you first see Mr. Lepel. +People with fevers often look worse than they really are."</p> + +<p>Cynthia set her lips; if she was frightened, she would not show it, she +resolved.</p> + +<p>Then, after some slight delay, she was admitted to Hubert's room; and +there, in spite of her resolution, at first she stood aghast.</p> + +<p>It startled her to perceive that, although she knew his face so well, +she might not have recognised it in an unaccustomed place. It was +discolored, and the eyes were bloodshot and wandering; the hair had been +partially cut away from his head, and the stubble of an unshaven beard +showed itself on cheeks and chin. Any romance that might have existed in +the mind of a girl of twenty concerning her lover's illness was struck +dead at once and forever. He was ill—terribly ill and delirious; he +looked at her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> with a madman's eyes, and his face was utterly changed; +his voice too, as he raised it in the constant stream of incoherent talk +that escaped his lips, was hoarse and rasping and unnatural. Anything +less interesting, less attractive to a weak soul than this delirious +fever-stricken man could not well be imagined; but Cynthia's soul was +anything but weak.</p> + +<p>She was conscious that never in her life had she loved Hubert Lepel so +intensely, so devotedly as she loved him now. Something of the maternal +instinct awakened within her at the sight of his great need. He had no +one to minister to his more subtle wants—no one to tend him out of pure +love and sympathy. The man Jenkins, who sat beside the bed, ready to +hold him down if in his delirium he should attempt to throw himself out +of the window, was awkward and uncouth in a sick-room. Mrs. Jenkins, +although ready and willing to help, was longing to steal away to her +little children at home. The landlady down-stairs had announced that she +could not possibly undertake to wait upon an invalid. All these facts +became clear to Cynthia in a very little time. She saw, as soon as she +entered the room, that the window-blind was awry and the curtains were +wrongly hung, that the table and the chest of drawers were crowded with +an untidy array of bottles, cups and glasses, and that the whole aspect +of the place was desolate. This fact did not concern her at present +however; her attention was given wholly and at once to the sick man.</p> + +<p>She stood for a minute or two at the foot of the bed, realising with a +pang the fact that he did not know her. His eyes rested upon her as he +spoke; but there was no recognition in them. She could not hear all he +said; but, between strings of incoherent words and unintelligible +phrases, some sentences caught her ear.</p> + +<p>"She will not come," said the sick man—"she has given me up entirely! +Quite right too! The world would say that she was perfectly right. And I +am in the wrong—always—I have always been wrong; and there is no way +out of it. Some one said that to me once—no way out of it—no way out +of it—no way out of it—oh, Heaven!"</p> + +<p>The sentence ended with a moan of agony which made Cynthia writhe with +pain.</p> + +<p>"He's always saying that," Jenkins whispered to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>—"'No way out of +it!' He keeps coming back to that as if—as if there was something on +his mind."</p> + +<p>Cynthia raised her hand to silence him. The torrent of words broke out +again.</p> + +<p>"It was not all my fault. It was Flossy's fault; but one cannot betray a +woman, one's sister—can one? Even she would say that. But she has gone +away, and she will never come back again. Cynthia—Cynthia! I might call +as long as I pleased—she would never come. Why don't you fetch her, +some of you? So many people here, and nobody will bring Cynthia to me! +Cynthia, Cynthia, my love!"</p> + +<p>"I am here, dear—I am here, beside you," said Cynthia.</p> + +<p>But he did not seem to understand. She touched his hot hand with her +own, and smoothed his fevered brow. The restless tongue went on.</p> + +<p>"She has given me up, and I shall never see her any more! She gave me +too hard a task; I could not do it—not all at once. It is done now. +Yes, I have done it, and it has divided us for ever. Why did you make me +speak, Cynthia? He was not miserable—he was happy. But I am to be +miserable for ever and ever now. There is no way out of the misery—no +way out of it—darkness and loneliness all my life, and worse +afterwards. Cynthia, Cynthia, you are sending me to perdition!"</p> + +<p>He half rose from his bed, and made as if he would struggle with her. +Jenkins came to the rescue; but Cynthia would not move aside.</p> + +<p>"Lie down, dearest," she was saying—"lie down and rest. Cynthia is +here—Cynthia is with you; she will never leave you any more unless you +send her away. Lie down, my darling, and try to rest."</p> + +<p>He did not understand the words; but the sweet rhythm of her voice +caught his ear. He fell back upon the pillows, staring, helpless, +subdued. She kept her cool hand upon his brow.</p> + +<p>"Is that Cynthia?" he said suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest, it is Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"How kind of her to come!" said Hubert, looking away from the girl as if +Cynthia were on the other side of the room. "But she should not look so +angrily at me. I have done what I could, you know. It is all right now, +Cynthia, I have done what I could—I have saved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> him—indeed I have! +I'll take the punishment—no way out of it but that! A life sentence—a +life sentence for me!"</p> + +<p>The words died away upon his lips in a confused babble that they could +not understand. He murmured inarticulately for a time, but there came +long pauses between the words, his eyelids drooped a little, and he grew +perceptibly less flushed. In about half an hour the doctor came into the +room. He cast a swift look at Cynthia, and another at his patient; then +he nodded sagaciously.</p> + +<p>"Better," he said curtly. "I thought so. Some more ice, Jenkins. He has +been quieter since you came, I conclude, madam?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"You are the lady for whom he has been asking so often? I know your +face—Miss Cynthia West, I believe? Can you stay?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Cynthia, without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"If you keep him as quiet as that, you will save his life," said the +doctor; and then he beckoned Jenkins out of the sick-room, and gave him +various stringent orders and recommendations—to all which Jenkins lent +an attentive if a somewhat puzzled ear.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked in again before he went away. Mr. Lepel was lying back +on his pillows, perfectly motionless and silent; Miss West, kneeling +beside the bed, still kept one hand on his, while with the other she put +cooling applications to his head or merely laid her hand upon his +forehead. As long as she was touching him the patient seemed perfectly +content. And again the doctor nodded—and this time he also smiled.</p> + +<p>So passed the hours of that long summer day.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + + +<p>When the light was fading a little, there was a new sound in Hubert +Lepel's sick-room—the rustle of a silk dress, the tripping of little +high-heeled shoes across the floor. Cynthia looked round hastily, ready +to hush the intruder; for Hubert was much quieter than he had been, and +only murmured incoherent sentences from time to time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> A fresh outburst +of delirium was of all things to be warded off if possible, and there +was a faint hope that he might sleep. If he slept, his life, humanly +speaking, was saved. But it was hardly likely that sleep would come so +soon.</p> + +<p>Cynthia looked round, prepared to rebuke the new-comer—for she had +taken upon herself all the authority of nurse and queen-regent in the +sick man's room; but her eyes fell upon a stranger whose face was yet +not altogether unknown to her. She had seen it years before in the +Beechfield lanes; she remembered it vaguely without knowing to whom it +belonged. In her earlier years at school that face had stood in her +imagination as the type of all that was cold and cruel and fair in +ancient song or story, fable or legend. It had figured as Medusa—as +Circe; the wonderful wicked woman of the Middle Ages had come to her in +visions with just such subtle eyes, such languorous beauty, such fair +white skin and yellow hair; the witch-woman of her weirdest dream had +had the look of Florence Lepel; just as Hubert's far different features, +with the dark melancholy expression of suffering stamped upon them, had +stood for her as those of Fouqué's ideal knights, or of Sintram riding +through the dark valley, of Lancelot sinning and repenting, of saint, +hero, martyr, paladin, in turn, until she grew old enough to banish such +foolish dreams. She had been a strangely imaginative child; and these +two faces seemed to have haunted her all her life. That of her hero lay +beside her, stricken with illness, fevered, insensible; that of the evil +woman—for this Cynthia instinctively believed Florence Vane to +be—confronted her with a strange, mocking, malignant smile.</p> + +<p>Cynthia put up her hand.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said quietly. "He is not to be disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Are you the nurse?" said Mrs. Vane's cool light voice.</p> + +<p>"I am a friend," replied Cynthia quietly. "If you wish to talk to me, I +will come into the other room."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you take things very calmly!" said Florence. "I really +never dreamt——It is a most embarrassing situation!"</p> + +<p>But she did not look embarrassed in the least; neither did Cynthia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>A heavier step on the boards now made itself heard, and the General's +face, ruddy and framed in venerable gray hairs, pressed forward over his +wife's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear—oh, dear—this is very bad!" he grumbled, either to himself +or to Flossy. "Poor lad—poor lad! He looks very ill—he does indeed!"</p> + +<p>Flossy came closer to the bed. As soon as she drew near, her brother +seemed to grow uneasy; he began to turn his head from side to side, to +move his hands, and to mutter incoherent words.</p> + +<p>"You disturb him," said Cynthia, looking at Mrs. Vane. "The Doctor says +that he must be kept perfectly quiet. Will you kindly go into the other +room, and, if you want me, I will come to you."</p> + +<p>"We are not particularly likely to want you, young woman," said Florence +coldly. "If you are not a qualified nurse, I do not see why you should +try to turn Mr. Lepel's own sister out of the room. It is your place to +go—not mine."</p> + +<p>For all answer, Cynthia turned again to Hubert, and began applying ice +to his fevered head. She seemed absorbed by her task, and took no +further notice of the visitors. For once Flossy felt herself a little +quelled.</p> + +<p>She turned to Mrs. Jenkins, who had followed her into the room.</p> + +<p>"Has not the doctor procured a proper nurse yet for Mr. Lepel?" she +said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jenkins fidgeted, and looked at Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"The young lady," she said at last, "seems to be doing all that is +required, ma'am. The doctor says as we couldn't do better."</p> + +<p>"In that case, my dear," said the pacific General, "I think that we had +better not interfere with existing arrangements. We will go back to the +hotel and inquire again in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Go back to the hotel, and leave that person in possession?" cried +Flossy, with fine and virtuous scorn. "Are you mad, General? I will not +put up with such a thing for a moment! She will go out of this house +before I go!"</p> + +<p>These words reached Cynthia's ears. The girl simply smiled. The smile +said, as plainly as words could have done, that she would not leave +Hubert Lepel's rooms unless she was taken away from them by force.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>Meanwhile Mrs. Jenkins was whispering and explaining, the General was +expostulating, and Flossy waxed apparently more and more irate every +moment. Cynthia, with her hand on Hubert's pulse, felt it growing +faster; his incoherent words were spoken with energy; he was beginning +to raise his head from the pillow and gaze about him with wild excited +eyes. She turned sharply towards the visitors.</p> + +<p>"Go into the other room at once!" she said, with sudden decision. "You +have aroused him already—you have done him harm! Keep silence or go, if +you wish to save his life!"</p> + +<p>The passionate ring of her voice, low though it was, had its effect. The +General stopped short in a sentence; Mrs. Jenkins looked at the bed with +a frightened air; Flossy, with an impatient gesture, walked towards the +sitting-room. But at the door she paused and looked back at Cynthia, +whose eyes were still fixed upon her. What there was in that look +perhaps no one else could see; but it magnetised Cynthia. The girl rose +from her knees, gently withdrew her hand from Hubert's nerveless +fingers, and signed to Mrs. Jenkins to take her place. Then, after +watching for a moment to see that the patient lay quietly and did not +seem distressed by her departure, she followed Mrs. Vane into the other +room. The General hovered about the door, uncertain whether to go or to +remain.</p> + +<p>The two women faced each other silently. They were both beautiful, but +they bore no likeness one to the other.</p> + +<p>There could not have been a more complete contrast than that presented +by Florence Vane and Cynthia Westwood as they confronted each other in +the dim light of Hubert's sitting-room. Cynthia stood erect, looking +very tall and pale in her straight black gown; her large dark eyes were +heavy from fatigue and grief, her lips had taken a pathetic downward +curve, and her dusky hair had been pushed back carelessly from her fine +brow. There was a curious dignity about her—a dignity which seemed to +proceed chiefly from her own absence of self-consciousness, swallowed up +as this had been in the depth of a great sorrow. Opposite to her stood +Florence, self-conscious and alert in every nerve and vein, but hiding +her agitation under an exterior of polished grace and studiedly haughty +courtesy, her fair beauty framed in an admirable setting of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> exquisite +colors and textures, her whole appearance indescribably dainty and +delicate, like that of some rare Eastern bird which hesitates where to +set its foot in a strange place.</p> + +<p>Thus the two saw each other; and Flossy felt vaguely that Cynthia ought +to be at a disadvantage, but that in some strange and miraculous manner +she was not. Indeed it was Cynthia who took the lead and spoke first.</p> + +<p>"If you wish to speak to me," she said, "I am here; but I cannot leave +Mr. Lepel for long."</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to speak—necessity alone compels me," said Mrs. Vane, +giving the girl a haughty stare from under her half-closed eyelids. "I +am compelled, I fear, to ask you a few questions. I presume that a nurse +is coming?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. The doctor said that he need not send one so long as +Jenkins and I were here."</p> + +<p>"And pray how long do you mean to remain here?"</p> + +<p>"As long as he has need of me."</p> + +<p>"You are under a mistake," said Mrs. Vane loftily. "Mr. Lepel did not +send for you, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"He called for me in his delirium," answered Cynthia, whose eyes were +beginning to be lighted up as if from an inward fire. "He is quiet only +when I am here."</p> + +<p>Flossy laughed derisively.</p> + +<p>"A good reason! Is he not quiet now, with the woman Jenkins at his side? +You will perhaps allow that his relatives—his family—have some right +to attend to him during his illness; and I must really say very +plainly—since you compel me to do so—that I should prefer to see him +nursed by a professional nurse, and not by a young girl whose very +presence here is a scandal to all propriety."</p> + +<p>Cynthia drew herself up to her full height.</p> + +<p>"I think I can scarcely understand you," she said. "I am acting under +the doctor's orders, and am here by his authority. There can be no +scandal in that. When Mr. Lepel is conscious and can spare me, I will +go."</p> + +<p>"Spare you! He will be only too glad to spare you!" cried Mrs. Vane. "I +do not know what your connection with him has been—I do not want to +know"—the insinuation conveyed by her tone and manner was felt by +Cynthia to be in itself an insult; "but this I am fully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> convinced of, +that my poor brother could not possibly have known that you were the +daughter of that wretched criminal, Andrew Westwood—the man who +murdered Sydney Vane! If he had known that, he would never have wished +to see your face again!"</p> + +<p>She saw the girl wince, as if she had received a cut with a whip, and +for a moment she triumphed.</p> + +<p>The General, who was just inside the room, listening anxiously to the +conversation, now came to her aid. He stepped forward hurriedly, his +face growing crimson, his lower jaw working, his eyes seeming to turn in +his head as he heard the words.</p> + +<p>"What is that? What—this young person the daughter of Westwood the +murderer? Abominable! What business has she here? It is an insult to us +all!"</p> + +<p>Cynthia turned upon him like a wild animal at bay, defiance flashing in +her mournful magnificent dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"My presence insults you less than the words Mrs. Vane has spoken insult +me!" she cried, tossing back her head with the proud stag-like gesture +which Hubert had learned to know so well. "She is more cruel than I ever +thought one woman could be to another! She must know that I have nothing +to reproach myself with—that my life is as pure as hers—purer, if all +one hears is true." She could not deny herself the vengeful taunt, but +was recalled to her better self when she saw Florence blanch under it +and suddenly draw back. "But about myself I do not choose to speak. Of +my father I will say one word—to you, sir, who I am sure will be just +at least to one who craves only for justice—my father, sir, was +innocent of the crime for which he was condemned; and some day his +innocence will be manifested before all eyes. Mr. Lepel knows—he knew +before he was taken ill—that I am Andrew Westwood's daughter. I told +him a few days ago."</p> + +<p>"And he was so much horrified by the news that this illness is the +result. I see now," said Mrs. Vane coolly, "why this break down has +taken place. The poor boy, General, has been so harassed and overcome by +the discovery that his brain has for the time being given way. And yet +this girl pretends that he wants her to remain!"</p> + +<p>"I appeal to the doctor!" said Cynthia, suddenly turning as white as +Florence herself had done. "If he supports me, you will yield to his +decision? If he says<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> that I am not necessary here, I will go. I have no +wish to inflict my presence on those to whom it is unwelcome."</p> + +<p>She glanced proudly from Mrs. Vane to the General. The old man was much +perturbed. He was walking about the room, muttering to himself, his lips +protruding, his brow wrinkled with anger and disgust.</p> + +<p>"Too bad—too bad!" Cynthia heard him say. "Westwood's daughter—nursing +Hubert too! Tut, tut—a bad business this!"</p> + +<p>Cynthia resolved upon a bold stroke—she would address him.</p> + +<p>"Sir," she said, taking a step towards him, "will you listen to me for a +moment? I promise you that I will go if the doctor says that I am not +wanted. You need not fear that I shall force myself upon you. I only ask +you to forgive me the fact of being my father's daughter until Mr. Lepel +is a little stronger—if the doctor says that I must not leave him yet. +When he is better, I vow—I swear that you shall see and hear no more of +me! I shall leave the country, and you will never be troubled by me +again. But, till then, have pity! Let me help to nurse him; he has been +my best friend in the whole world, and I have never yet been able to do +anything for him! When he is better, I will go away. Till then, for +pity's sake, sir, let me stay!"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke; she clasped her hands before her and held down her head +to hide her tears. The General, brought to a sudden stop by her appeal +to him, eyed her with a mixture of native pity and long-cultivated +detestation. He could not but be sorry for her, although she was +Westwood's daughter and, by all reports, not much better perhaps than +she should be; for he firmly believed in the truth of all Flossy's +malignant hints and innuendos. But Cynthia was a handsome woman, and the +General was weak; he could not bear to see a handsome woman cry.</p> + +<p>"My good girl," he stammered—and then Flossy's significant smile made +him stammer all the more—"my girl, I—I do not wish to blame +you—personally, of course—not your fault at all—we can't help its +being painful, you know."</p> + +<p>"Painful—yes," cried Cynthia eagerly; "but pain is sometimes necessary! +You will not drive me away from Hubert's bedside if I can be of any use +to him?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>"No, no—I suppose not," said the General, melting in spite of himself. +"I wouldn't for the world do anything to harm poor Hubert. Suppose we +hear what the doctor says?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia's hand was on the bell immediately, and Jenkins showed himself +at the door without delay.</p> + +<p>"Jenkins," she said, "it is very important that we should have the +doctor here at once. Mrs. Vane—General Vane—want——"</p> + +<p>"Give your own orders, General," said Flossy abruptly. She could not +lose a chance of annoying and insulting Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"H'm, ha—the doctor, my man," said the General, rather taken aback by +the demand upon him—"get us the doctor as soon as you can. Tell +him—tell him that Mr. Lepel's relatives are here, and no doubt he will +come at once."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence in the room when Jenkins had disappeared upon +his errand. The General stood, with his hands clasped behind him, +looking out of a window; Mrs. Vane had sunk into a chair, in which she +lay back, her graceful neck turned aside, as if she wanted to avoid the +sight of Cynthia, who meanwhile stood upon the hearthrug, head bent and +hands folded, waiting gravely and patiently for what she felt to be the +decision on her fate.</p> + +<p>Presently Mrs. Vane moved a little, fixed her cold eyes on the +motionless figure before her, and spoke in tones so low that they did +not reach the General's ears.</p> + +<p>"What have you done with your father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Cynthia raised her eyes to Mrs. Vane's face for a moment with a flash of +scorn in their lustrous depths. She made no other answer.</p> + +<p>"You need not think," said Florence deliberately, "that I do not know +where he has been until to-day. I know all about him."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you set your spies on him," said Cynthia, in equally low but +bitter tones. "I was aware of that."</p> + +<p>"I know of his movements up to eleven o'clock this morning, and so do +the police," said Mrs. Vane. "He came to you this morning—perhaps by +appointment, perhaps not—how do I know?—and you drove away with him to +St. Pancras Station. There you took his ticket to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> Liverpool—there you +said good-bye. Why did you not wait to see him off? The answer is easy +to read—because he never went to Liverpool at all. Did you think we +were children like yourself that you could throw dust in our eyes as +easily as that?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia's dilated eyes asked a question that her lips would not utter. +Flossy smiled.</p> + +<p>"You want to know if he has been taken?" she said. "Not yet; but he soon +will be. You should not have been seen with him if you wanted him to +escape. I suppose you were not aware that the relationship was known?"</p> + +<p>No, this certainly Cynthia had not known.</p> + +<p>"You have been the means of identifying him to the police," Mrs. Vane +went on, with the cruel smile still playing about her thin lips; +"otherwise we should hardly have been sure that he had changed his +disguise. I almost wonder that you never thought of that."</p> + +<p>Then Cynthia made a desperate attempt to stem the tide.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," she said—Mrs. Vane laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"You had better not try to tell lies about it—it is not your forte. +Brazen it out, as you have done hitherto, and you may succeed. A +detective has been to Madame della Scala's house already, and he will +probably find you out—if you stay here—before long. I am afraid that +you are not a very good hand at keeping a secret; but I have put you on +your guard, and you should thank me."</p> + +<p>"I do not thank you for torturing me," said Cynthia, with a hard dry sob +that seemed to be born of agony. "I would rather face all the police and +the magistrates of London than you! They will have no difficulty about +finding me. If I cannot stay here, I will go back to Madame's house."</p> + +<p>"Which you will find closed to you," said Flossy. "After the story that +she has heard, Madame della Scala refuses to receive you there again. +You seem to think very little of your father's crime, Miss Westwood; but +you will not find society condone it so easily."</p> + +<p>Cynthia's face flushed hotly, but she did not reply.</p> + +<p>"You had better go away," said Mrs. Vane, leaning forward and speaking +almost in a whisper. "Go, and tell no one where you are going—it will +be better for you. The police will be here before very long, and +possibly they may arrest you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>"I do not think they can do that. No, I shall not hide myself."</p> + +<p>"It would be safer for your father," said Flossy, almost inaudibly. +"Listen—I will make a bargain with you. If you go, I will hide part of +my own knowledge—I will not let the woman Meldreth describe him +accurately—I will help you to put the detectives off the track; and, in +return, you will go away at once—where I care not—and never see Hubert +again. You may save your father then."</p> + +<p>"I will make no bargain with you," said Cynthia solemnly. She looked +straight into the white, subtle face—straight into the velvet-brown +languorous eyes, full now of a secret fear. "You forget that God +protects the innocent and punishes the guilty. I will stay with Hubert; +and God will defend my father and the right."</p> + +<p>"Your father will be hanged yet," said Flossy, turning away restlessly. +It was her only answer to the girl's courageous words.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + + +<p>A little bustle was heard outside the door; and then the doctor came in. +He was a middle-aged man, tall, spare, thoughtful-looking, a little +abrupt in manner, but with a kindly face. He had not advanced two steps +into the room before he stopped short, held up his hand, and said—</p> + +<p>"Hallo—what's that?"</p> + +<p>It was the patient's voice again uplifted in snatches of delirious talk.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia!" they distinctly heard him calling. "Where's Cynthia? Tell +Cynthia that she must come!"</p> + +<p>"And why are you not there?" said Doctor Middlemass, darting his finger +in Cynthia's direction. "Why don't you go to him at once? It's madness +to let him cry out like that!"</p> + +<p>Cynthia's look was piteous; but for the moment she did not move.</p> + +<p>"Would it not be better for a qualified nurse to be obtained for my +brother?" said Mrs. Vane. "This young—lady"—a perceptible pause +occurred before the word—"has had no experience in nursing; and it is +surely not necessary——"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>"Oh, doctor," the girl burst out, "must I not stay? I cannot go away +when he calls for me like that!"</p> + +<p>Her hands were strained on her bosom; her eyes had the hungry look of a +mother who hears her child cry aloud and cannot go to him. The doctor +shot a look at her pale tortured face, and observed the cold composure +of the finely-dressed lady in the arm-chair, and the subdued uneasiness +of the old gentleman in the background. He began to suspect a +tragedy—at any rate, a romance.</p> + +<p>"Go to him at once," he said to Cynthia, pointing to the bed-room door, +"and keep him quiet at any cost. A trained nurse would not do him half +the good that you can do him, if you choose. And now, madam," he +continued rather sternly, as Cynthia disappeared with a joyful face into +the other room, "may I ask what this interference with my orders may +mean?"</p> + +<p>"I am Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy coldly, "and it was I who sent +for you, Doctor Middlemass. I think I have some right to take an +interest in my brother's condition."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, madam"—the doctor spoke with portentous grimness and +formality—"but—excuse me—no right to tamper with any of my +prescriptions. I prescribed Miss West to my patient; and she was doing +him all the good in the world when I went away. He has got another +fever-fit upon him now, a little higher temperature, and we shall not be +able to do anything more for him at all. If you do not wish my orders to +be followed, madam, have the goodness to send for another doctor and I +will throw up the case."</p> + +<p>"You misunderstand, sir—you misunderstand!" said the General fussily, +coming forward with his most imposing air. "My wife and I, sir, have not +the slightest desire to interfere. We only wish to know what your +prescriptions are. That young woman, sir, has no right to be here at +all."</p> + +<p>"From what I have been told," said the doctor dryly, "I should have said +that she had the greatest possible right to be here; but, however, that +is no business of mine. She has a wonderfully soothing effect on Mr. +Lepel's condition, and, as long as she is here, he is quiet and +manageable. Listen! He is scarcely speaking at all now; her presence and +her touch have calmed him at once. It would be positive madness to take +her away!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>"Would it not be well," said Mrs. Vane quietly, "to send a trained nurse +here too? There is a woman whom I know; she would be very glad to come, +and she would relieve that young lady of the more painful and onerous +portions of her task. I mean, dear," she said, looking towards her +husband, "old Mrs. Meldreth's daughter—Sabina. She is an efficient +nurse, and she has nothing to do just now."</p> + +<p>"Has she had experience in cases of brain-disease?" said Doctor +Middlemass snappishly.</p> + +<p>"I really do not know." She knew perfectly well that Sabina's knowledge +of nursing was of the most perfunctory kind. "She has had experience of +all kinds of illness, I believe, and she is thoroughly trustworthy. She +could be installed here as an attendant on Miss—Miss West."</p> + +<p>Attendant! "As spy" she meant, on all poor Cynthia's movements.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see the woman first," said the doctor bluntly. He was +not easy to manage, as Flossy swiftly perceived. "If she is competent +for the task, I have no objection—Miss West must not be allowed to +overdo herself; but I myself should prefer to send a person who is +accustomed to deal with illnesses of this kind."</p> + +<p>"As you please, of course," said Flossy. She saw that it would be of no +use to press Sabina Meldreth upon him, much as she would have liked to +secure the services of a spy and an informer in the house. As she +paused, the General came forward.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know, sir," he said, bristling with indignation, "what +you mean by saying that that young lady—that girl—has a right to be +here? I do not understand such language?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course she has a right to be here," said the doctor, staring at +him in a purposely matter-of-fact way, "since she is the lady that he is +engaged to marry."</p> + +<p>"Marry! Bless my soul—no such thing!" roared the General, utterly +forgetting that there was an invalid in the adjoining room. "Why, he's +going to marry my——"</p> + +<p>"Dear Richard, hush, hush!" said his wife, laying her hand entreatingly +upon his arm. "Don't make such a noise—think of poor Hubert!"</p> + +<p>"Kindly moderate your voice, sir," was the doctor's dry remark. "My +patient will hear you if you don't take care."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>"It does not matter to me whether he hears me or not," the General +began; but Flossy's hand tightened its grasp upon his arm in a way which +he knew that he must obey.</p> + +<p>The General was a docile husband, and his protest died away in +inarticulate angry murmurs.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about it, General—I will arrange everything," said his +wife caressingly. "Go over to the window again and leave me to speak to +Doctor Middlemass for a moment;" and, as the General retired, still +growling, she half smiled, and raised her eyes to the doctor's face as +if she invited sympathy.</p> + +<p>But Doctor Middlemass looked as unresponsive as a block of wood.</p> + +<p>"I must go to my patient," he said, "It was to see him, I presume, that +I was summoned?"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely," said Flossy very sweetly. "We wanted to know whether it +was absolutely necessary that Miss West should stay with my brother."</p> + +<p>"Absolutely necessary, madam!"</p> + +<p>"Then of course we should not think of objecting to her presence, which, +I must tell you, is painful to us, because——"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madam," said the doctor, who was certainly a very uncivil +person, "if I say that these family-matters are of no interest to me, +save as they affect my patient."</p> + +<p>"But they do affect your patient, doctor. I think it was the worry of +the affair that brought on this illness. We have found out that this +Miss West's name is really 'Westwood,' and that she is the daughter of +the dreadful man who shot my husband's brother Beechfield some years +ago. Perhaps you remember the case?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—I remember it!" said the doctor shortly. "That's the daughter? +Poor girl!"</p> + +<p>"It is naturally unpleasant to think that my brother—a cousin also of +the General's—should be contemplating a marriage with her," said Mrs. +Vane.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well—perhaps so! We are all under the dominion of personal and +selfish prejudice," said Doctor Middlemass.</p> + +<p>"I hoped that this illness might break the tie between them," sighed +Flossy pensively.</p> + +<p>"So it may, madam—by killing him. Do you wish to break it in that +way?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>"This doctor is a perfect brute!" thought Mrs. Vane to herself; but she +only looked in a reproachful manner at the "brute," and applied her +handkerchief delicately to her eyes. "I trust that there is no +likelihood that it may end in that way. My poor dear Hubert," she +sighed, "if only you had been warned in time!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps this display of emotion softened Doctor Middlemass' heart, or +perhaps he was not so insensible to Mrs. Vane's charms as he tried to +appear; at any rate, when he spoke again it was in a qualified tone.</p> + +<p>"I trust that he will get over this attack. He is certainly a little +better than I expected to find him; but I cannot impress your mind too +strongly with the necessity for care and watchfulness. Anything that +tends to tranquilise the mind of a person in his condition must be +procured for him at almost any risk. When the delirium has passed, an +ordinary nurse may be of greater use than Miss West; but at present we +really cannot do without her. You heard for yourself how he called her +when she went out of the room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard. Then shall I send the woman of whom I spoke, doctor? She +might be a help to Miss West, whose work I of course would rather assist +than retard in any way."</p> + +<p>"You can thoroughly rely upon her?" said the doctor dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Thoroughly. She is a most valuable person."</p> + +<p>"She might come for a day or two, and we shall see whether she is of any +use or not. Will you send for her?"</p> + +<p>Yes, Mrs. Vane would send. And then the doctor went to look once more at +Hubert, of whose condition he again seemed somewhat doubtful; and +afterwards he took his leave. When he had gone, Mrs. Vane also departed, +taking her docile husband back with her to the Grosvenor Hotel. She had +gained her point and was secretly triumphant; for she had secured the +presence of a spy upon Cynthia, and could depend upon Sabina Meldreth to +give a full account of Miss West's habits and visitors.</p> + +<p>Flossy had great faith in her system of espionage. She sent Parker at +once with a note summoning Sabina to the hotel, and there she laid her +plans. Sabina was to go that very night to Mr. Lepel's rooms, and was to +make herself as useful as she could. It was presumed that Cyn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>thia had +not seen with sufficient clearness for the encounter to be a source of +danger the woman in black who had followed Westwood to Kensington +Gardens. Sabina was told to keep herself in the background as much as +possible—to be silent and serviceable, but, above all, to be observant; +for it was likely that Westwood would try to communicate with his +daughter, and, if he did so, Sabina would perhaps be able to track him +down.</p> + +<p>Flossy had completely lost all fear for herself in the excitement of her +discoveries. It seemed to her that she and her secret were entirely +safe. Nobody, she thought, had ever known of her understanding with +Sydney Vane in days gone by; nobody had any clue to the secret of his +death; so long as Hubert was silent, she had nothing at all to fear; and +Hubert had succumbed to her for so long that she did not dread him now. +Nothing seemed to her more unlikely than that after so many years he +should deliberately divest himself of name and fame, clear Westwood's +reputation at the cost of his own, and sacrifice his freedom for the +sake of a scruple of conscience. Flossy did not believe him foolish +enough or self-denying enough to do all that—and in her estimate of her +brother's character perhaps, after all, Flossy was very nearly right.</p> + +<p>Sabina Meldreth presented herself to Cynthia and Mrs. Jenkins that +evening, and was not very graciously received. However, she proved +herself both capable and willing, and was speedily acknowledged—by Mrs. +Jenkins, at least—to be "a great help in the house." Cynthia said +nothing; she hardly seemed to know that a stranger was present. Her +whole soul was absorbed in the task of nursing Hubert. When he slept, +she did not leave the house; she lay on a sofa in another room. She +could not bear to be far away from Hubert; and more and more, as the +days went on and the delirium was not subdued, did she shrink from the +knowledge that any other ears beside her own should hear the ravings of +the patient—should marvel at the extraordinary things he said, and +wonder whether or no there was any truth in them.</p> + +<p>"He talked in this way because he has brooded over my poor father's +fate!" Cynthia said to herself, with piteous insistence. "He must have +been so much distressed at finding that I was the daughter of Andrew +Westwood that his mind dwelt on all the details of the trial; and now +he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> fancies almost that he did the deed himself. I have read of such +strange delusions in books. When he is better, no doubt the delusion +will die away. It shows how powerfully his mind was affected by what I +told him—the constant cry that he sees no way out of it shows how he +must have brooded over the matter. No way out of it indeed, my darling, +until the person who murdered Mr. Vane is discovered and brought to +justice! And I almost believe that my father is right, and that the +murderer, directly or indirectly, was Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>To Cynthia, Hubert's ravings were the more painful, because they bore +almost entirely upon what had been the great grief—the tragedy—of her +life. He spoke much of Sydney Vane, of Florence, and of Cynthia herself, +but in such strange connection that at times she hardly knew what was +his meaning, or whether he had any definite meaning. Presently, however, +it appeared to her as if one or two ideas ran through the whole warp and +woof of his imaginings. One was the conviction that in some way or +another he must take Westwood's place—give himself up to justice and +set Westwood free. Another was the belief that it was utterly impossible +for Cynthia ever to forgive him for what he had done, and that the +person chiefly responsible for all the misery and shame and disgrace, +which had fallen so unequally on the heads of those concerned in "the +Beechfield tragedy," was no other than Florence Vane.</p> + +<p>Farther than these vague statements he did not go. He never said in so +many words that he was guilty of Sydney Vane's death, and that he, and +not Westwood, ought to have borne the punishment. Yet he said enough to +give Cynthia cause for great unhappiness. She tried not to believe that +there was any foundation of truth for his words; but she could not +succeed. The ideas were too persistent, too logical, to be altogether +the fruit of imagination. More and more she clung to the belief that +Flossy was responsible for Mr. Vane's sudden death, that Hubert knew it, +and that for his sister's sake he had concealed the truth. If this were +so, it would be terrible indeed; and yet Cynthia had a soft corner in +her heart for the man who had sacrificed his own honor to conceal his +sister's sin.</p> + +<p>Cynthia did not go back to Madame della Scala's house. Flossy had done +her work with the singing-mistress as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> had done it elsewhere. She +blackened Cynthia's name wherever she went. So, two days after the +girl's departure from Norton Square, her boxes and all her belongings +were sent to her from her former home without a word of apology or +explanation. She felt that she was simply turned out of Madame's +house—that she could never hope to go back to it again. She was now +absolutely homeless; and she was also without employment; for she had +withdrawn from several engagements to sing at concerts, and at more than +one private house she had received an intimation that her services could +be dispensed with. No reason in these cases was given; but it was plain +that the world did not think Miss West a very reputable person, and that +society had turned its back upon her. Cynthia had not leisure to think +what this would mean for her in the future; at present she cared for +nothing but her duties in Hubert Lepel's sick-room.</p> + +<p>Her boxes were deposited at last in Mrs. Jenkins' little house at the +back; and there a small room was appropriated to Cynthia's use. She was +"supposed to be lodging at Mrs. Jenkins'," as Sabina told her mistress; +but she practically lived in Hubert's rooms. Still it was a comfort to +her to think that she had that little room to retire to when Hubert +should recover consciousness; and till then she did not care where or +how she lived.</p> + +<p>Sabina found little to report to Mrs. Vane, who had now returned to +Beechfield. Cynthia went nowhere, and received neither visitors nor +letters. She had been interviewed by the police-officials; but they had +not been able to get any information from her. As for Andrew Westwood, +he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth; and some of +the authorities at Scotland Yard went so far as to say that the report +made to them of his discovery must have been either an illusion of the +fancy or pure invention on the part of Sabina Meldreth and Mrs. Vane.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + + +<p>Enid's conscience was not at rest. During her interviews with Mr. +Evandale she was inclined to think that he knew everything, understood +everything—even the difference between right and wrong—better than she +herself knew and understood it; but when he was away her heart failed +her. What if Hubert cared for her all the time? Would she not then be +doing him a grievous wrong by forgetting that she had promised to marry +him when she was twenty-one? The General's opposition to her engagement +would probably vanish like a dream when she was a little older, if she +and Hubert showed any inclination to each other. There was no real +reason why they should not marry; and Hubert knew that. And what would +he say when he heard that she had weakly fallen in love with another +man, and wanted to break her word to himself?</p> + +<p>Enid shrank back and blushed with shame at the prospect before her. It +was all very well for Maurice to say that she must not sacrifice +herself; but was it not a woman's duty to sacrifice herself for the good +of others? She said so to Maurice; and his answer was very ready.</p> + +<p>"For the good of others? But do you think it is for Hubert's good to +marry a woman who does not love him, and especially if it is a woman +whom he does not love?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, if I could only be sure of that!" sighed Enid.</p> + +<p>She was not long left in doubt. The General could not keep a secret; +and, as soon as he and his wife returned to Beechfield, Enid felt that +something was wrong—something which concerned herself. Flossy was very +quiet; she eyed Enid strangely once or twice, but she did not tell her +about the events of the past week. It was the General who sighed over +her, petted her, kissed her at unusual times, and looked at her with an +air of pity that the girl found almost intolerable. After three or four +days of it, she broke through her usual rule of reserve, and asked +Flossy what the General meant.</p> + +<p>"You had better ask him," said Mrs. Vane, arching her delicate brows.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>"I have asked him, and he will not tell me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is simply that Hubert is ill. He thinks probably that you +are distracted by anxiety about him."</p> + +<p>Enid colored guiltily.</p> + +<p>"But we have good accounts of him," she said, as if explaining away her +own apparent indifference; "he is going on as well as we can expect. And +I suppose you would be with him if he were dangerously ill?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure of that," said Flossy rather drily; but she would say no +more.</p> + +<p>It was after breakfast one morning that Enid insisted upon being +satisfied. She and the General had, as usual, breakfasted together, and +a letter had just been received from the Doctor in attendance on Hubert, +over which the General coughed, fidgeted, sighed, and was evidently so +much disturbed that Enid's attention was roused to the uttermost. For +the earlier part of the meal she had been sitting with her hands clasped +before her, not attempting to touch the food upon her plate. She had no +appetite; she had passed a bad night, and was little inclined to talk. +But the General's movements and gestures excited her curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Have you had bad news, uncle Richard?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, my dear! He's going on very well—very well indeed."</p> + +<p>"You mean Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, of course! Whom else should I mean? You needn't be alarmed +about him at all; he'll soon be about again."</p> + +<p>There was a tone of mingled vexation and perplexity in the General's +voice.</p> + +<p>"Is he conscious now?" Enid asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, no—not exactly—light-headed a little, I suppose. At least——"</p> + +<p>"Who has written, uncle Richard? Can I see the letter?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no! Not for you to read, my dear! It's from the doctor—nothing +much—nothing for you to see."</p> + +<p>Enid was silent for a few minutes; then she spoke with sudden +determination.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Richard, you are treating me like a child! There is something +that you are hiding from me which I ought to know—I am sure of it! Will +you not tell me what it is?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>"You are quite mistaken, my dear! There is nothing to tell—nothing, +that is, in the least particular—nothing that you need trouble about at +all."</p> + +<p>"There is something! Oh, uncle Richard"—and she rose from her seat and +knelt down beside him, putting one arm around his neck and fixing her +wistful blue eyes upon his weather-beaten countenance—"you do not know +how much anxiety you cause me by being silent, when I am sure that there +is something in your mind which concerns me, and which I am not to know! +Even if it is a great misfortune—a great sorrow—I would rather know it +than imagine all sorts of dreadful things, as I do now. Whatever it is, +please tell me. It is cruel to keep me in ignorance!"</p> + +<p>The General looked puzzled and troubled.</p> + +<p>"You had better ask Flossy, dear," he said, pulling the ends of his long +white moustache, and looking away from the pleading face before him. "If +there's anything to tell, she could tell it better than I."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, uncle dear," said Enid softly. Her eyes filled with +tears. "I would rather hear evil tidings from your lips than from those +of any other person, because—because I know you love me and would not +grieve me willingly. Is Hubert worse than I know? Is he—is he dead?"</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, no!" cried the General. "Why, what put that idea into +your mind, child? No, no—he is going on as well as possible—upon my +word, he is!"</p> + +<p>"What is it then, dear uncle Richard?"</p> + +<p>"It's his nurse," said the General desperately.</p> + +<p>"His nurse?" Enid's eyes grew large with amazement.</p> + +<p>"She isn't a proper, respectable, trained nurse at all. She is just an +amateur—a young woman who has no business to be there at all—not much +older than yourself, Enid, my dear. That is the reason that Flossy would +not stay. We found this young person nursing him, and so we came away. +Flossy was very much shocked—very much annoyed about it, I can tell +you. I wrote to ask if she was still there, and the doctor says she is."</p> + +<p>Enid's white cheeks had turned crimson, but more with surprise than with +anger. The General crossed one leg over the other, and carefully averted +his eyes as he went on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say anything against her. Flossy says—but you and I +have nothing to do with that—she's not a very nice girl; that is all. +These professional singers and actresses seldom are. You don't know +anything about such people, my little girl, and it is all the better for +you. But Hubert should not have friends among people of that kind. I am +very much disappointed in Hubert—very much disappointed indeed!"</p> + +<p>"This girl is a friend of Hubert's then?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. Well—yes, of course."</p> + +<p>"Who is she? What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"She is a singer, my dear," said the General, putting his arm +affectionately round the girl's shoulders, "and she is an uncommonly +pretty girl—I don't deny that. Oh, of course there is nothing for you +to be anxious about! Hubert befriended her, I believe; and she was +grateful, and wanted to repay him—and—and all that, you know." The +General was rather proud of having given this turn to the story.</p> + +<p>"But I think that was very kind and good of her," said Enid, with +kindling eyes. "Why are you so distressed about it, uncle Richard? I +should like to have done the same for poor Hubert too. What is the +girl's name?"</p> + +<p>"They call her," said the General, looking very much abashed—"they call +her Cynthia West. But that isn't her real name."</p> + +<p>"Cynthia West?" said Enid, in a low tone. Then she was silent. She was +recalling the day when she had questioned Hubert about Cynthia West. He +had said that he knew her—a little. And this girl whom he knew "a +little" had gone to nurse him in his hour of need! Well, was there +anything particularly wrong in that?</p> + +<p>The General, having once begun the story, could not keep it to himself.</p> + +<p>"It is a most extraordinary thing," he said, "how Hubert came to know +her at all. I should have thought that he would steer clear of her—as +clear as of poison—when he was engaged to you and all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he would not think of me!" said Enid quietly. "Why should he have +avoided Cynthia West?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" said the General, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang +that made the dishes rattle, and caused Enid to give a nervous start. +"Why, because she is not Cynthia West at all! She is the daughter of +that ruffian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>—that murderer—to whom your desolate orphaned condition +is due, my darling! She is Westwood's child, the man who killed your +dear father and ought to have been hanged for it long ago!"</p> + +<p>Enid's hand slipped from her uncle's neck. She knelt on, looking up at +him with dazed incredulous eyes and quivering white lips. The +communication had given a great shock to her trust in Hubert.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—perhaps," she said at last, "Hubert did not know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but he did—he did!" said her uncle, whose memory for dates and +details was generally at fault. "If not at once, he knew before very +long; and he ought never to have spoken to her again when once he knew. +As for all that stuff about his not being quiet unless she was in the +room—about her being the only person who could manage him when he was +delirious, you know—why, that was stuff and nonsense! They ought to +have got a strait-waistcoat and strapped him down to the bed; that would +surely have kept him as quiet as any Miss Cynthia West!"</p> + +<p>The General said the name with infinite scorn.</p> + +<p>"Is that what they said—that he was quiet when she was there?" Enid +inquired.</p> + +<p>"So they said—so they said! I don't see the sense of it myself," +replied the General, feeling that he had perhaps said a little too much.</p> + +<p>"Then did he send for her?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; he was unconscious when she came. I believe that his man +Jenkins was at the bottom of it all. He went and told her that poor +Hubert was ill."</p> + +<p>"But I don't quite understand. If Hubert did not send for her, what +right had she to come?"</p> + +<p>"You may well ask that. What right indeed! An abominable thing, I call +it, for Westwood's daughter to go and nurse one of our family! Don't +grieve about it, my darling! If Hubert was led astray by her wiles for a +little time, you may be sure that he will be ashamed of himself before +very long. He has a good heart, and will not let you go; he loves you +too sincerely for that, I am quite sure. So you must not fret."</p> + +<p>"I don't; I shall not grieve—in that way, uncle," said Enid gravely, +but with perfect calm. "You mean that Hubert cares for her, and that she +loves him too?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what she does," said the General, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> rather ominous +growl. "I only know that there were some entanglement—understanding +between them—a flirtation I dare say—young men are not always so +careful as they ought to be—and perhaps the girl has taken it +seriously."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl," said Enid softly—"I am very sorry for her!"</p> + +<p>"Sorry? Sorry for Westwood's daughter? Enid, you forget what is due to +yourself and to your father! Do not speak of her! Forget her; and rest +assured that when Hubert is better he will dismiss her with thanks—if +thanks are necessary—and that we shall soon see him here at Beechfield +again. And, my dear, when he is better, I will put no further obstacle +in your way, if you still desire the—the engagement to go on."</p> + +<p>"You forget, uncle Richard," said Enid very quietly, "that there was no +real engagement."</p> + +<p>She had always maintained to herself before that there was one. He +looked at her with wonder.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, there was a sort of an understanding, you know; and +Flossy always said that you were so fond of each other."</p> + +<p>"Flossy did not know," Enid answered coldly. Then she withdrew herself +from the General's encircling arm and rose to her feet. "You have not +told me yet, uncle," she went on, "what news you had from the doctor +this morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing fresh!" said the General, in rather a guilty tone; and +then, as she pressed him, he explained further. "You see, my dear child, +we thought that this Miss West ought to go away, because none of us can +go to see Hubert while she is there—if for no other reason, because she +is that man's daughter; and I wrote to the doctor to inquire whether +Hubert could not do without her now; and he says, No—that there would +be danger of a relapse if she should go."</p> + +<p>"Then of course you will say that she must be asked to stay until Hubert +is better, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"But it is naturally very painful to you, and to all of us, to think +that Hubert's recovery is dependent on that girl. I call it positively +degrading!" cried the General, crumpling up his papers, and rising from +his seat in a sudden fury.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>"It is painful—yes," said Enid, with a heavy sigh; "but I suppose that +it cannot be helped;" and she turned away, so that he might not see the +quivering of her lip or the tear that rolled down her pale cheeks as she +said the words.</p> + +<p>She went out into the conservatory and sat down amongst the flowers. She +had been too proud to show the General how much she was hurt; but, as a +matter of fact, she was very deeply wounded by what she heard. Her +affections were not bruised—she had never cared for Hubert so little in +her life; but her pride had received a tremendous blow. Even if he had +only "flirted" with Cynthia West, as the General had suggested, the +flirtation was an insult to the girl whom he had asked in marriage. +Indeed it seemed worse to Enid than a <i>grande passion</i> would have +seemed; for her readings in poetry and fiction had taught her that a +genuine and passionate love sometimes caused people to forget the claims +of duty and the bonds of a previous affection. But the General had not +seemed to think that anything of this kind existed; although the fact +that Hubert's delirium could not be quieted except in Cynthia's presence +showed, even to Enid's innocent eyes, that some strong sympathy, some +great mutual attraction, united them. If it were so, Enid asked herself, +could she blame him? What had she herself done? Had she not given her +heart away to Maurice Evandale, although her word was plighted to Hubert +Lepel?</p> + +<p>But then, she said to herself, she had never professed any great +affection for Hubert; she had not taken the initiative in any way. He +need not have asked her to marry him—he might have left her perfectly +free. She felt indignantly that she had been trifled with—that he had +asked her to be his wife without caring to make her so, and that he +might perhaps have trifled in the same manner with Cynthia West. If that +were the case, Enid Vane said to herself that she could never forgive +him. He had profaned love itself—the holiest of earth's mysteries—and +she resented the action, although she might gain by it her own freedom +and happiness.</p> + +<p>It was even possible that this gain might be denied to her. Suppose, +when he was better, that he came back and claimed her promise, +repudiated Cynthia's attempt to earn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> his gratitude, and explained his +conduct in such a manner that no fair-minded person could refuse him +credence? What then could she do? Enid felt that she might not have the +strength to fight against him unless Maurice were at her side; and +Maurice had, unfortunately for her, been suddenly summoned to the North +of England to attend his father's death-bed. He had left Beechfield with +many fears for Enid's welfare; but he was of course obliged to go, and +had had no opportunity of declaring himself to the General as a suitor +for Enid's hand before his departure. For the moment therefore Enid was +quite alone; and, seeing the net in which she was caught—a net of fraud +and trickery and lies—her heart failed her, and she felt herself +helpless indeed.</p> + +<p>She was in far more danger than she guessed; for Mrs. Vane looked upon +her as a deadly enemy, and was resolved that she should never have the +chance of confiding what she knew to another person. From what Hubert +had said, the girl had made up her mind to tell him all she knew when +once she was his wife. To tell Hubert was what Flossy was resolved that +Enid should never do. She should never marry Hubert or any other man; +sooner than betray Flossy's secrets, Enid Vane should die. The white +still woman with the brown eyes and yellow hair was ready to face the +chances of detection—ready to take life, if necessary, rather than see +her plans defeated and herself disgraced. With Enid out of the way, she +might not be safe; but she would be safer than she was now.</p> + +<p>She took note however of the warning that Parker had given her. She had +been going too fast; she must be more careful for the future. She must +proceed by such slow degrees that Mr. Ingledew himself should be +deceived. And she must change her plans also; for she found that Enid no +longer touched the cooling drinks that were placed beside her every +night—the girl said that she did not care for them, and sent them away +untouched. But surely there were plenty of other ways!</p> + +<p>Mr. Evandale had said a few guarded words to Mr. Ingledew about his +treatment of Miss Vane, and his remarks had caused the surgeon to send a +simple tonic mixture instead of the soothing draughts which had formerly +excited some surprise and even some indignation in the Rector's mind. He +did not much believe in soothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> draughts, as he soon elicited from Mr. +Ingledew that they had been made up in conformity with Mrs. Vane's views +of the case rather than according to what Mr. Ingledew himself thought +necessary; and a word from the Rector, whose medical knowledge was +really considerable, caused Mr. Ingledew to change his opinions very +speedily. At the same time, tonics, like other things, could be +doctored; and, as Mr. Evandale was out of the way, Enid's welfare lay, +for the time being, at Flossy's mercy.</p> + +<p>She began to suffer in the old way—from dizziness and nausea and pains +for which she could not account, with an utterly inexplicable weakness +and languor, different from all her former symptoms. Perhaps Mrs. Vane +had altered her treatment. At any rate, it was certain that some +mysterious factor was at work stealing the girl's energy away from her, +diminishing her vitality, bringing her, in short, to the very gates of +death. And so insidiously did the work proceed that even Parker, who had +had suspicions of her mistress, scarcely noticed the advance of Enid's +malady. There were no more fainting-fits—nothing definitely alarming; +but day by day the girl grew weaker, and no one noticed or guessed the +reason why.</p> + +<p>Enid's nights were restless; but she had not been disturbed since +Flossy's return from London by the white figure which she had seen at +her bedside. She told herself that Maurice was right—that her nerves +had played her false, and that the appearances had been a mere phantasm +of her imagination. She quite lost her fear of seeing it again; and, +although she had held no further conversation with the Rector after Mrs. +Vane's arrival in the house, she was reassured and strengthened by the +remembrance of his words. When she awoke in the night-time now, she knew +no fear.</p> + +<p>And yet—it was about three weeks after the beginning of Hubert Lepel's +illness—her heart gave a wild leap when she opened her eyes one night, +and saw in her room, by the faint light of a glimmering taper, the +ghostly figure of a woman clothed from head to foot in white. She stood, +not by the bedside, but by the mantelpiece, with something—was it a +medicine-phial?—in her hand. What the visitant was doing Enid could not +exactly see; but she started up, and at the movement the white woman +turned and showed her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>Enid uttered an exclamation—a sort of gasp of terror—for her worst +fears were realised. The phantom which she had dreaded had come to her +again in spite of Maurice's promises of aid. He had forgotten to pray +for her perhaps—a childish notion crossed her mind that perhaps because +of his forgetfulness the ghost was there.</p> + +<p>But was it a ghost—a phantom of the senses, and not a living woman +after all? For the face which met the girl's eyes was not one that she +could easily mistake—it was the face of Florence Vane.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + + +<p>At that moment Enid recalled, by one instinctive flash of memory, the +words that Maurice Evandale had said to her. If ever she saw "the ghost" +again, she was to speak to it—she was not to be afraid. God would take +care of her. With a sort of mental clutch at the strength residing in +those words, she maintained herself in a sitting posture and looked the +white woman full in the face. Yes, it was Flossy's face; but was it +Flossy herself? For the figure made a strange threatening gesture, and +glided smoothly towards the door as if to disappear—though in natural +and not very ghost-like fashion, for the door stood wide open, and it +was the soft cool night-breeze of summer that had opened Enid's +slumbering eyes. In another moment the visitor would be gone, and Enid +would never know whether what she saw was a reality or a dream.</p> + +<p>That should not be. Strength and courage suddenly returned to her, +inspired by the remembrance of her lover and his words, she would speak.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here?" she said.</p> + +<p>Still no answer. The figure glided onward, and its eyes—glittering and +baleful—were never once removed from Enid's face. With one supreme +effort, the girl sprang from the bed and threw herself in the strange +visitor's way. The figure halted and drew back. Enid laid a hand upon +its arm. Ah, yes, thank Heaven, she felt the touch of flesh and blood! +No weird reflected image of a wandering brain was before her; a +woman—only a wicked desperate woman—stood in her way. Enid was not +afraid.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>"Florence," she said, "why are you here?"</p> + +<p>The woman dashed down the detaining hand. She knew that it was of no use +to assume any longer the character with which she had hoped to impress +the mind of the sensitive, nervous, delicate girl. She was no ghost +indeed; she could figure no longer as a nightmare in Enid's memory. She +stood revealed. But she did not lose her self possession. After a +moment's pause, she spoke with dignity.</p> + +<p>"I came here," she said, "to see whether you were sleeping quietly. +Surely I may do so much for my husband's niece?"</p> + +<p>"And what were you doing there?" said Enid, pointing to the mantelpiece. +"Why were you tampering with what Mr. Ingledew sends me to take?"</p> + +<p>"Tampering, you silly girl? You do not know the meaning of your own +words!"</p> + +<p>"Do I not? What have you in your hand?"</p> + +<p>She grasped at the little phial which Flossy had half hidden in the +white folds of her dressing-gown—grasped at it, and succeeded, by the +quickness of her movement, in wrenching it from Mrs. Vane's hand. Then, +even by the dim light of the candle, she could see that Flossy's color +waned, and that her narrow eyes were distended with sudden fear.</p> + +<p>"Why do you take that? Give it me back!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Enid, upon whom the excitement had acted like a draught of +wine, giving color to her face and decision to her tones—"yes, when I +have found out what it contains."</p> + +<p>"You little fool—you will not know when you look at it!"</p> + +<p>"I will keep it and ask Mr. Ingledew or Mr. Evandale. You were pouring +from it into the medicine that Mr. Ingledew gave me—for what purpose +you know, not I."</p> + +<p>A gasp issued from Flossy's pale lips. Her danger was clear to her now.</p> + +<p>"Give it back to me!" she said. "I will have it—I tell you I will!"</p> + +<p>Enid's hand was frail and slight; not for one moment could she have +resisted Mrs. Vane's superior strength—for Flossy could be strong when +occasion called for strength—and she did not try. With a quick sweep of +her arm she hurled the little bottle into the grate! It broke into +frag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>ments as it fell, the crash striking painfully on the ear in the +stillness of the night. The two women looked into each other's faces; +and then Flossy quailed and fell back a step or two.</p> + +<p>"What good or harm will that do?" she asked slowly. "Why did you break +it?"</p> + +<p>"Better for it to be broken than used for others' harm."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that it was meant to do harm?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know it; I feel it—I am sure of it. If you lie and cheat and +rob, where will you stop short? Is it likely that I of all people can +trust you?"</p> + +<p>Florence caught at the bed as if for support. She was trembling +violently; but her face had all its old malignancy as she said—</p> + +<p>"You are going to slander me to your uncle, I suppose? Every one knows +that you would gain if I—I and little Dick were out of the way!"</p> + +<p>Enid looked at her steadily.</p> + +<p>"You are very clever, Florence," she said, "and it is exceedingly clever +of you to mention little Dick to me. You know that I love him, although +I do not love you. I shall do no harm to him that I can help. But +this—this burden is more than I can bear alone! I shall go to another +for help."</p> + +<p>"You have promised to speak to nobody but Hubert on the subject," said +Flossy, turning upon her with a look of tigress-like fury.</p> + +<p>"To nobody but my husband or my promised husband."</p> + +<p>"And that is Hubert."</p> + +<p>"No; it is not Hubert."</p> + +<p>"Not Hubert? Then who—who?"</p> + +<p>"That is nothing to you. You will hear in good time. You have no right +to question me; you lost your authority over me long ago."</p> + +<p>"Not Hubert?" Flossy repeated once more, as if bewildered by the news. +Then she burst into a low wild laugh. "You are right," she said. "He has +replaced you already; he is desperately in love with Cynthia Westwood, +the daughter of the man who murdered your father, and he has given you +up. He never cared for you; he wanted your money only. Did that never +occur to your innocent mind? As soon as he is better, he will make +Cynthia his wife."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>"He is free to do so if he pleases," said the girl, with a touch of +scorn in her voice. "I am thankful to escape from you both. You will not +expect me to live under the same roof with you again."</p> + +<p>"Go where you please," returned Florence, "say and do what you please; I +shall be only too glad to think that I shall never see your face again. +I always hated you, Enid Vane; from the time that you were a child I +hated you, as I hated your mother before you. Some day you will perhaps +know why."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to know. I have always felt that you hated me," said Enid, +the hot color receding from her cheeks. She was one of those people on +whom the consciousness of being disliked produces a chilling effect. +"But I never hated you; I do not hate you now. Oh, Flossy, is there no +way of setting things straight without letting anybody know?"</p> + +<p>Florence sneered at the almost child-like appeal.</p> + +<p>"For myself," she said, "I have a resource which will not fail me even +if you do your worst. Do you think that I would ever live to bear public +disgrace? Not for twenty-four hours! Remember this, Enid Vane—the day +when the whole story, as we know it, comes to light will be my last. If +you betray me, you will be my murderess. You will have killed me as +truly as ever—as ever a cruel assassin killed your father Sydney Vane!"</p> + +<p>With a gesture of her arm, as if to keep the girl from touching her, she +swept towards the open door. Enid did not attempt to stop her. A +sensation of awe, of affright even, seized her as she watched the white +figure gliding steadily along the passage until the darkness hid it from +her view. Then she sank down on the bed once more, trembling and afraid. +The desperate boldness which had for a long time possessed her was +succeeded by a reaction of horror and dismay. How could she hide herself +from Flossy's hate—how save herself from Flossy's sure revenge?</p> + +<p>As she thought of these things, she knew by certain well-marked +symptoms that one of her old attacks of almost cataleptic stupor was +coming upon her. In the old days she would have succumbed to it at +once. But Evandale's words rang in her ears. What had he said? He +thought that she might control herself—that she might prevent these +nervous seizures from overcoming her. She sat up,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> and by a violent +effort roused herself a little. Then she tried the experiment of +walking across the room to the open window, where the fresh air +revived her. A glass of water, a few turns across the room, and, quite +suddenly, she was once more mistress of herself. She had conquered the +feeling of faintness—conquered the terrible rigidity of limb which +used to attack her at these times. The Rector's words had proved the +tonic that her weakened nerves seemed to require. For the first time +in her life she was a conqueror. There was no reason why she should +not conquer again and again until her nerves recovered their tone and +the fatal tendency was overcome.</p> + +<p>New strength came to her with this consciousness. She lighted a lamp and +donned a dressing-gown; then, after a little deliberation, she went to +Parker's room. She found the maid up and partially dressed. There was a +scared look on the woman's face which caused Enid to suspect that her +conversation with Mrs. Vane had been partially if not altogether +overheard. But this Enid resolved not to seem to know.</p> + +<p>"Parker," she said quietly, "I am thinking of going to London. Will you +come with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, that I will—to the end of the world if you like!" was the +unexpectedly fervent response.</p> + +<p>But Enid showed no surprise.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me about the trains? What is the earliest?"</p> + +<p>"There's one at six, miss; but you wouldn't start so early as that, +would you?"</p> + +<p>"The sooner the better, I think. I will dress now, and call you +presently to pack my bag. The boxes can be sent afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"And, Parker, if you come with me, you must remember that you are +quitting Mrs. Vane's service. She will never take you back if you leave +her now."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't come back—not if she paid me double!" cried Parker, honest +tears starting to her beady eyes. "I don't care what she does; but I'll +never work for her again—not after what I have heard and seen!"</p> + +<p>"You must not speak either to me or any one else about what you have +heard or seen," said Enid gravely, "particularly in the house to which +we are going. Will you remember that?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>"Oh, yes, miss—I'll not say a single word! And you have settled where +to go, miss, if I may make so bold as to ask?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to my aunt—Miss Vane," said Enid briefly; and Parker +retired, not daring to ask any more questions, being a little overawed +by the growth of some new quality in the girl's nature—some novel +development of strength and character which imposed silence on her +companion in this self-enforced exile.</p> + +<p>The dawn was breaking when Enid began to make her preparations for +departure. The faint yellow light of day stole into the room when she +drew back the window-curtains and stood looking—perhaps for the last +time, she thought—upon the flower-gardens and the lawn, upon the sheet +of water in the distance, the beech woods, and the distant hills—spots +that she had known from childhood, and which were dearer to her than any +new scenes could ever be. And yet she did not falter in her purpose. +Even to herself she did not seem the same gentle submissive maiden that +she had hitherto been considered. Some new strength had passed into her +veins; she was eager to act as became the woman who was one day to be +the wife of Maurice Evandale.</p> + +<p>She had one task to perform that was very hard to her. She could not go +without writing a farewell letter to the General, who had always been so +kind and good to her. She made it as short and simple as possible, and +she explained nothing. Without consulting Mr. Evandale, and perhaps her +aunt Leo, of whom she was genuinely fond, she felt that she was not free +to speak.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dearest uncle Richard," she wrote—"I think it best to go to +London to-day and see aunt Leo. I am taking Parker with me. Forgive +me if I say that I do not think I can ever come back again. I hope +you will not look on me as ungrateful for all your kindness to me. +I will write again, and shall hope to see you in London. Your +loving niece, <span class="smcap">Enid</span>."</p></div> + +<p>She placed the letter in an envelope, addressed it, and left it in a +conspicuous position on the dressing-table. Then she put on her hat and +cloak, and asked Parker whether she was ready to leave the house. The +clock had struck five, and they had some distance to walk before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> they +could reach a railway-station. Parker prevailed upon her to eat and +drink before they started; but the girl's appetite was small, and she +left her biscuits almost untouched upon the plate.</p> + +<p>As the two stole silently down the corridor, Enid noticed that the door +of Dick's night-nursery was half open. She hesitated, then with a mute +sign to Parker to go on, she entered the room and made her way to the +child's bedside. Parker lingered long enough to see her kneel down +beside it, and lay her face for a few moments on the pillow beside the +sleeping boy. She kissed him very gently; and when, with a sleepy +movement, he turned and put his arm round her, as if to hold her there, +the tears began to fall down her pale cheeks. But she dared not stay too +long. She rose presently, put his hand back under the coverlet, and +kissed him once again.</p> + +<p>"Dear little Dick," she murmured sorrowfully, "will you some day think +that I did not love you, when you know what I have done, and what I +shall have to do?"</p> + +<p>When Enid rejoined Parker she was pale, but calm; the tears lingered on +her eyelashes, but had been carefully wiped away from her cheeks. They +left the house in silence by a side-door which could be easily unbolted; +and for some time Parker did not venture to open her lips. Her young +mistress looked like a different being with that grave determination on +her face, that steady serious light in her sad but serene blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Just when they reached the point from which the Hall could last be seen, +Enid turned and looked at it for a moment. It was her last farewell; and +the yearning tenderness that stole into her face as she gazed and gazed +again brought the tears to Parker's eyes. The maid had taken a strong +liking to Miss Enid Vane, and was ready to devote her whole strength to +her service. At the same time, the thought of the revenge that Mrs. Vane +might wreak upon her for this desertion was misery to Parker; for what +should she do if her mother learned that she had once been dismissed +from a situation in disgrace, or if she could not earn enough to keep +her mother in the comfort to which she had grown accustomed? She was +quite ready and willing to leave Mrs. Vane; but she was afraid when she +considered the future; and, as she walked along the road beside her +young mistress, the tears now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> then brimmed over, and had to be +surreptitiously wiped away.</p> + +<p>"If you are regretting what you have done, Parker," said Enid at length, +"you are quite at liberty, you know, to go back to Beechfield Hall."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, miss—I wouldn't go back for anything! There's some things that +even a servant can't bear to see going on. It's only my poor mother, +miss, that I'm thinking about."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Enid gently—at that moment it was easy to her to sympathise +with sorrow. "Is it your wages that you are thinking of? I am sure that +you will not be a loser by coming with me."</p> + +<p>"It's not the money, miss, thank you—it's—it's my character," said +Parker, with a sudden gush of tears—"it's what my mother may hear of me +that I care about! I wouldn't deceive you, miss, for the world! I'll +tell you about it, if you'll kindly hear."</p> + +<p>And then, as the two women walked along the lonely country road in the +shining freshness of the early summer morning, Parker made her +confession. She told the story of her disgrace and summary dismissal, of +Mrs. Vane's apparent kindness to her, and of the way in which she had +been used as a tool in the furtherance of Mrs. Vane's designs. Enid +turned a shade paler as she heard of how she had been tracked, watched, +spied upon; but there was no anger in her voice as she replied.</p> + +<p>"I think we ought both to be thankful, Parker, to get away just now from +Beechfield Hall. It will be better for us if we never see Mrs. Vane +again. I do not think that she will hurt you however, or tell your story +to your mother. She will have other things to think about just now."</p> + +<p>Parker wondered vaguely what those other things were; but she did not +say a word. For a minute or two Enid also was silent, and thought of +Flossy. What was she doing? Of what was she thinking now?</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Flossy was at that moment just awakening to a sick +shuddering consciousness of what had happened. She had gone to her room +and fallen to the floor in a death-like swoon. When she was able to +move, she crept to the bell and rang again and again for Parker. But +Parker of course did not come; and little by little Mrs. Vane became +aware that she was deserted, that Enid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> and her maid had left the house, +and that, for all she knew, instant ruin and disgrace hung like an +inevitable fate above her head.</p> + +<p>When Enid spoke, it was in kindly tones.</p> + +<p>"You must forget the past and start afresh, Parker. We all have to do +that, you know, Mr. Evandale says. We will make a new beginning."</p> + +<p>"I have often thought, miss, that I should like to tell Mr. Evandale all +about it, and hear what he would say."</p> + +<p>"You shall do so, Parker. We shall see Mr. Evandale in London very +likely." Enid paused a little, and then said, in her even, serious +voice, "I will tell you what I have told to no one else, Parker, because +you have trusted me—I am going to marry Mr. Evandale."</p> + +<p>"Are you, miss? I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it! We all thought, miss, +that it was Mr. Lepel."</p> + +<p>"No; I shall never marry Mr. Lepel."</p> + +<p>"Is it a secret, miss?" said Parker.</p> + +<p>"Until Mr. Evandale comes back from Yorkshire—that is all. After that +we will have no more concealments of any kind. I think," said Enid +softly but seriously—"I think that perfect truth is the most beautiful +thing in the whole world."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + + +<p>Miss Vane's welcome of her niece was dashed by amazement.</p> + +<p>"Why, good gracious, child," she said, "what have you come at this hour +of the day for? I'm delighted to see you; but I never heard of such a +thing! Arriving at nine o'clock in the morning from Beechfield, +especially after all the accounts I have heard of your health! You look +fit to faint as it is!"</p> + +<p>"I am tired," said Enid, with a little smile.</p> + +<p>She sat down in Miss Vane's pretty dining-room, where her aunt was +seated at breakfast, and began to take off her gloves. Parker had +retired into the lower regions of the house, and the two ladies were +alone.</p> + +<p>"I won't hear anything until you have had some coffee," said Miss Vane, +in her quick decisive way. "Get a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> color into those pale cheeks, +my dear, before you begin to talk! There—drink your coffee! Not a bad +plan, after all, to start before the heat of the day comes on, only it +is a wonderfully energetic proceeding! Have you come to shop, or are you +anxious about Hubert? I went to his rooms the other day and saw him. He +is weak; but he is quite sensible now, you know."</p> + +<p>"Who was there?" said Enid, setting down her cup with a new color in her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>Miss Vane looked at her sharply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the nurse of course—a Beechfield woman, I believe, recommended by +Florence! I saw no one else, not even the Jenkinses, who, I hear, have +been most devoted to him in his illness."</p> + +<p>Enid dropped her eyes. She did not care just then to ask any questions +about Cynthia West. If Miss Vane knew the story, she evidently +considered it unfit for Enid's ears.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear, what brings you to town," said aunt Leo briskly, when +the meal was ended, and Enid had been installed on a comfortable sofa, +where she was ordered to "lie still and rest;" "and how did you induce +Richard and Flossy to let you come?"</p> + +<p>"I ought perhaps to have told you as soon as I came in, aunt Leo," said +Enid, sitting up, "that nobody knew—that, in fact, I have run away from +Beechfield, and that I never, never can go back!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Miss Vane, "that's rather sudden, is it not? But I suppose +you have a reason?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt Leo, but one which—at present—I cannot tell."</p> + +<p>"Cannot tell, Enid, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Not just yet—not until I have consulted some one else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hubert, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Enid, blushing and holding down her head—"not Hubert."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane put up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and inspected her for a +minute or two.</p> + +<p>"You look as if you had been worried out of your life!" she said. "You +are as thin as a thread-paper! Well, you will not be worried here, my +child. You can stay as long as you like, and tell me everything or +nothing, as you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> please. One thing I will say—I suppose Flossy is at +the bottom of it all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt Leo."</p> + +<p>"That accounts for everything. Flossy never could be trusted. Did she +want you to be engaged to Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"I think so—at first. Now I do not know."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they badgered you into it?" said Miss Vane thoughtfully. "Are +you going on with it?"—in her usual abrupt tone.</p> + +<p>"With the engagement, aunt Leo? Oh, no!"</p> + +<p>"Come—that's a good thing!" said aunt Leo briskly. "For I don't think +Hubert is quite worthy of you, my dear. He has disappointed me rather. +Well, I won't bother you with any more questions, especially as I have a +visitor coming at ten o'clock—a young parson from the country who has +written to request an interview. There's the bell—I suppose he has +arrived. Begging, I expect! I told Hodges——Why, he's showing the man +in here! Hodges——"</p> + +<p>But it was too late. Hodges always obeyed his mistress to the letter; +and his mistress, thinking she would be alone, had ordered "the parson" +to be shown into the dining-room. The presence of a visitor made no +difference in Hodges' opinion. Accordingly, in spite of Miss Vane's +signs and protests, he flung the door wide open, and announced, in a +stentorian voice, the parson's name—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Evandale."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Vane—and Hodges too, before he closed the door—beheld a +curious sight; for, instead of looking at his hostess, the parson, who +was a singularly handsome man, with a band of crape on his arm, made two +strides to the sofa, from which Enid, with a low cry of joy, arose and +flung herself into his arms.</p> + +<p>"My own darling!" exclaimed the man.</p> + +<p>"Maurice—dearest Maurice!" the girl rejoined; and then she burst out +crying upon his shoulder; and he kissed her and called her fond names in +entire oblivion of Miss Vane's stately presence.</p> + +<p>The old lady was both scandalised and offended by these proceedings. Her +sharp eyes looked brighter and her rather prominent nose more hawk-like +than ever as she made her voice heard at last.</p> + +<p>"I should like some explanation of this extraordinary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> behavior!" she +said; with asperity. "Sir, I have not the honor of knowing you! Enid, +what does this mean?"</p> + +<p>"I am the Rector of Beechfield," said Mr. Evandale. "I most heartily beg +your pardon, Miss Vane, for the way in which I have introduced myself to +you! I wrote to ask if I might see you, because I know what a friend you +have always been to Enid, and I wanted to see you myself and tell you +how Enid and I had come to understand each other; but, when I saw my +darling here—safe with you—I was so much taken by surprise——"</p> + +<p>"I am taken by surprise too," said Miss Vane grimly. "Pray, sir, does +the General know of your mutual understanding?"</p> + +<p>"No, aunt Leo; and that is one reason why I came to you," said Enid, +abandoning Maurice Evandale and bestowing an embrace upon her aunt. "You +know, I had just told you that I was not engaged to Hubert."</p> + +<p>"You gave up Hubert for this gentleman, did you?"</p> + +<p>"I think, aunt Leo, that Hubert gave me up first;" and Enid raised her +head and looked earnestly into her aunt's eyes, which fell before that +serious candid gaze.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, well—and was it for this that you came to me?"</p> + +<p>Miss Vane's voice was gentler now; and Mr. Evandale took advantage of +the opportunity afforded him to pour out the story of his love for +Enid—of his certainty that she was not happy, and his endeavor to win +her confidence. He went on to say that he had been in Yorkshire +attending his father's funeral and settling his affairs for the last few +days, and that it had occurred to him to call on Miss Vane—of whom he +had so often heard!—on his way through London to Beechfield. He had +meant to tell her of Enid's unhappiness and of his attachment to her, +and to ask Miss Vane's interest and help; and it was the greatest +possible surprise to him to find Enid in the room when he entered it.</p> + +<p>"What did you mean by saying that she was safe here?" said Miss Vane at +this point. "Safe with me, you said."</p> + +<p>Maurice looked at the girl.</p> + +<p>"I have told aunt Leo nothing yet," she said. "And, oh, dear aunt Leo, +you won't be vexed, will you, if I may speak to Maurice just for five +minutes first? Because indeed I am so puzzled that I do not know what to +do."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>Miss Vane subdued a rising inclination to anger, and did her best to +smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, I know what you young people are!" she said good-humoredly. +"I suppose I shall be taken into your secrets by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Enid kissed her cheek.</p> + +<p>"If they were our secrets, you should know all about them this very +minute," she said; "but they are not ours, dear auntie."</p> + +<p>"Flossy's, I suppose?" said Miss Vane rather shortly, as she disengaged +herself from Enid's arm and went out of the room. But she was not +ill-pleased, although she pretended to feel piqued by the request for a +private interview. "He looks like a man to be trusted," she said. "Enid +will be happier with him than with Hubert—poor Hubert, poor miserable, +deluded boy! As for Flossy, I cannot think of her without a shudder. +Heaven knows what she has done, but she has most certainly driven Enid +out of the house by her conduct! I hope it is nothing very seriously +wrong."</p> + +<p>At that moment a telegram was put into Miss Vane's hands. It was from +the General.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Is Enid with you? If not, telegraph at once. I am coming up to +town by next train."</p></div> + +<p>It seemed long to Miss Vane before she was summoned to the promised +conference with Enid and Mr. Evandale. Here a great shock awaited her. +Enid had told her whole story to Maurice, and he had said that, while +the midnight interview between Enid and Mrs. Vane might be kept +secret—as nothing could absolutely be proved respecting Flossy's +sinister designs on Enid's life or health—the confession that Mrs. +Meldreth had made to Enid in her last moments should be made known. Enid +was however still reluctant; and Miss Vane was brought in chiefly to +give her advice, and thus to settle the question.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, looking keenly from one to the other, as she sat +beside Enid's sofa and Mr. Evandale stood before her, "I think I may +safely say that it's not the money that either of you cares about."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" The voices were unanimous.</p> + +<p>"Neither money nor lands matter very much to you. But you"—to +Evandale—"hate the deceit; and you, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> the other hand"—turning to +Enid—"are fond of the poor child, who, I must say, has been treated +about as badly as any of you. Isn't that the case?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt Leo."</p> + +<p>"And what's to be done with him when the truth is made known? Is he to +be made over to his rightful owner—Sabina Meldreth?"</p> + +<p>Enid and Mr. Evandale looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"No," said the Rector, at length—"certainly not! We would bring him up +ourselves, if need be; and Enid would be to him all that his own mother +and Mrs. Vane have failed to be."</p> + +<p>"And he should never suffer," said Enid, with tears in her eyes. "I love +him as if he were my own little brother, aunt Leo. He should have all +the property—as far as I am concerned—if Maurice thought it right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, if the General chose to leave it to him; but the +General ought to know," said Mr. Evandale decisively. "I do not see how +we can be parties to a deception any longer."</p> + +<p>"It is a very hard position for all of us," said Miss Vane. "As for me, +I am most seriously concerned for my brother. Have you thought what a +terrible shock you are preparing for him?"</p> + +<p>Evandale looked grave and did not answer.</p> + +<p>"He is devotedly fond of his wife and of the child. To tell him that +Florence is a liar and a cheat—that she has practised a deception upon +him for many years, in order to gain position and a good income for +herself as the mother of his son—above all, to tell him that the boy is +not his son at all—do you think that he will survive it? Dare you take +upon yourselves the responsibility of shortening his days in that way? I +must confess that in your places I should hold my tongue; because it +does not seem to have occurred to you that, after all, old Mrs. Meldreth +may not have been speaking the truth."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," said Enid.</p> + +<p>"If you had seen the woman herself, Miss Vane, you would have been +convinced of her sincerity," said the Rector.</p> + +<p>"Possibly. But only you two were there. The General will probably refuse +to listen to Enid's testimony, and will fume himself into an apoplectic +fit when he hears that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> has any to give. You, Mr. Evandale, did not +hear the woman's communication at all. Suppose you kill the General by +the news—do you want to take the matter into court? Is Enid to stand up +and tell her experiences to a pack of lawyers, and hear the world say +that she has done it to get the estate for herself? You could not bear +it, Enid, my child! You would lose your head and contradict yourself; +and Flossy would brazen it out and be the heroine of the day; and Mr. +Evandale would be ruined in costs."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind that, so long as the truth prevails," said Mr. Evandale. +"I do not want the money—neither does Enid; we would sooner endow an +hospital with it or give it to little Dick than keep it if gained under +such auspices. But it is hard to see Mrs. Vane—whom I firmly believe to +be guilty of fraud as well as of an attempt upon my darling's +life—triumphant in wrong-doing."</p> + +<p>"Well, nobody ought to know better than you, Mr. Evandale, that the +wicked flourish like the green bay-tree," said Miss Vane drily; "and I +don't see that it is our part to destroy them."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Leo, you are making us feel ourselves horrid!" said Enid from the +cushions amongst which her aunt had insisted on installing her. "We do +not want to punish her, or to make dear uncle Richard ill, or to turn +poor little Dick out of Beechfield."</p> + +<p>"Yet it is just those things which you propose doing."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Then the Rector looked at Enid.</p> + +<p>"I think we shall have to give it up, Enid, unless we get other +evidence."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Enid, with tears in her eyes. "It was when I +felt that it was perhaps my duty to speak that I was so miserable! But, +if it would simply make mischief and be of no use, I am only too glad to +feel that I may keep silence."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you see it in that light," said Miss Vane briefly. "I want as +little as you do, Mr. Evandale, to see Enid kept out of her rightful +inheritance; but I am convinced that, if Enid told my brother what she +had heard, he would never believe her, that the excitement would make +him ill; there would be a family quarrel, and the whole thing would be +productive of no good result at all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> If we get more evidence, or if one +of the guilty parties would confess, why, then it would be a different +matter."</p> + +<p>"I shall not mind seeing uncle Richard now," said Enid softly.</p> + +<p>"But you will not go back to Beechfield?" said Mr. Evandale.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; she'll stay here," Miss Vane replied for her. "She'll stay +here until she is married; and I hope that that day may not be far off."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said Maurice fervently. "Do you think that I may speak to +the General to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so. But what about Hubert Lepel, Enid?"</p> + +<p>Enid flushed crimson.</p> + +<p>"If there is one thing more than another about which the General is +particular, it is the keeping of a promise," continued Miss Vane. "He +may say that he will hold you to your word."</p> + +<p>"He cannot," Enid answered, with lowered eyelids. "For, if what I have +been told is true, Hubert has broken his word to me—and so I am free."</p> + +<p>"She must be free; she did not love him," said Maurice Evandale +conclusively, as if that statement settled the question.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, if love were all," Miss Vane began, but the opening of the +door interrupted her. "What is it, Hodges? Another telegram? Is it the +General again, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>She tore open the brown envelope with more anxiety than she liked to +show; her eyebrows went up, and her mouth compressed itself as she read +the words—first to herself, and then to Enid and the Rector. The +message was again from the General, and ran as follows—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Hope Enid is safe. Cannot come myself because of +carriage-accident. Dick seriously injured; but doctor gives hope."</p></div> + +<p>"Oh, poor little Dick!" said Enid. "And I away from him!"</p> + +<p>Miss Vane glanced at the Rector, and read in his eyes what was in her +own mind—"If Dick should die, there would be no further perplexity." +Then both dropped their eyes guiltily, and hoped that Enid—dear, +innocent, loving Enid!—had not guessed what they were thinking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>"At any rate," said Miss Vane, after a little pause, "you can do nothing +now; and it is just as well that we have all resolved to hold our +tongues."</p> + +<p>And then she went away to write some letters; and Enid was left alone +with Maurice Evandale.</p> + +<p>"My darling," said her lover, "are you sure that you are content and +happy now?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, Maurice—except that I think—I half think—that I ought +not to be married; I shall make such a bad wife to you if I am always +ailing and weak."</p> + +<p>"But you are not going to be ailing and weak, dearest—you are going to +be a strong woman yet. Did you not tell me how you conquered that +nervous inclination to give way last night after your interview with +Mrs. Vane? And did you not walk to the station and travel up to town in +the early morning without doing yourself a particle of harm? Believe me, +darling, your ill-health was in great part a figment got up by Mrs. Vane +for her own ends. You are perfectly well; and, when we are married, you +will be strong too. Do you believe me, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"And are you sure yet whether you love me or not?"</p> + +<p>She smiled, and the color flooded her sweet face. And he, although he +knew well enough what she would say, pressed for an answer, and would +not be satisfied until it had been put into words.</p> + +<p>"Do you love me, Enid? Tell me, darling—'Yes' or 'No'?"</p> + +<p>And at last she answered very softly—</p> + +<p>"I love you, Maurice, with all my heart and soul!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice Evandale was obliged to go to Beechfield that evening; but, +before he went, he explained his position more fully to Miss Vane than +he had thought it necessary to do with Enid. His father had left him an +ample income; he had no near relatives, and was able to look forward +with confidence to giving Enid a comfortable home. He wanted to marry +her as soon as possible; but, as Miss Vane pointed out to him, there was +no use in being in too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> great a hurry, for many things would have to be +settled before Enid's hand could be given in marriage. She herself had +always meant to leave Enid a fair share of her own wealth, and she +announced her intention of settling a considerable sum upon her at once. +If the General would do the same thing, Enid would be a bride with a +goodly dower. But Miss Vane was a little inclined to think that her +brother would be angry with the girl for leaving his house, and that he +might be difficult to manage. Mr. Evandale must be guided by +circumstances—so she said to him; and, if Dick was ill, and the General +anxious and out of temper, he had better defer his proposal for a week +or two. She promised that she would do her best to help him; and he knew +that he might rely on Enid's assurance of her love.</p> + +<p>Accordingly he went back to Beechfield; and Enid was left at Miss +Vane's, there to gain strength of mind and body in the pleasant +peaceable atmosphere of her house.</p> + +<p>Miss Vane did not give many parties or go much into society about this +time. With those whom she really loved she was always at her best; and +many of her associates would have been thoroughly astonished to see how +tender, how loving this worldly, cynical old woman, as they thought her, +could show herself to a girl like Enid Vane. She gave up many +engagements for Enid's sake, and lived quietly and as best suited her +young visitor. For Enid, although rapidly recovering, was not yet strong +enough to bear the excitement of London gaieties. Besides, Dick was +reported to be very ill, and during his illness Enid could not have +borne to go out to theatres and balls.</p> + +<p>The General had been driving to the station when the accident took +place. The horse had taken fright and grown unmanageable; the phaeton +had been nearly dashed to pieces; and Dick, who had been on the box +beside his father, had had a terrible fall. He had never spoken or been +conscious since; he lingered on from day to day in a state of complete +insensibility; and while he was in that state the General would not +leave him. Of Flossy nobody heard a word. The General wrote to his +sister, and sent kind messages to Enid, but did not mention Flossy. Aunt +Leo and Enid both wondered why.</p> + +<p>Enid had been in town nearly a week, when one morning a letter was +brought to her at the sight of which she colored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> deeply. She was +sitting at the luncheon-table with her aunt, and for a few minutes she +left the letter beside her plate unopened.</p> + +<p>"Won't you read your letter, dear?" said Miss Vane.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, aunt Leo." Then she took the letter and opened it; but her +color varied strangely as she read, and, when she had finished it, she +pushed it towards her aunt. "Will you read it?" she said quietly. "It +seems to me that he does not understand our position."</p> + +<p>The servants were not in the room, and she could talk freely. Aunt Leo +settled her eye-glasses on her nose, and looked at the letter.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's from Hubert!" she said breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Then she read it half aloud; and Enid winced at the sound of some of the +words.</p> + +<p>"My dearest Enid," Hubert had written—"I have just heard that you are +in town. If I could come to see you, I would; but you know, I suppose, +that I have been ill. I have had no letter from you for what seems an +interminable time. I must ask you to excuse more from me to-day—my hand +is abominably shaky!</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="sig2">"Yours,</span><br /> +"H.L."<br /> +</p> + +<p>The handwriting was certainly shaky; Miss Vane had some difficulty in +deciphering the crooked characters.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" she said, laying the letter on the table and looking inquiringly +at her niece. "What does he mean?"</p> + +<p>"He means that he still thinks me engaged to him," said Enid, the color +hot in her girlish cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Then you had better disabuse him of that notion, my dear, for you can't +be engaged to two people at once; and I have given my consent to your +marriage with Mr. Evandale."</p> + +<p>"Do you think," said Enid, in a half whisper, "that I have been +mistaken, and that Hubert will be—sorry?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear, I don't!"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Leo, is this report true about him and Miss West?"</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Miss West, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Richard told me. She came to nurse Hubert when he was ill. Uncle +Richard seemed to think that very wrong of her; but I don't. I think it +was right, if she loved him. If Maurice were ill, I should like to go +and nurse him, whether he cared for me or not."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>"Child," said Miss Vane solemnly, "you are a simpleton! You don't know +what you are talking about! I have seen Cynthia West and talked to her, +and she is not a woman who, I should think, knows what true love is at +all. She is hard and careless and worldly, and singularly ill-mannered. +She is not the woman that Hubert would do well to marry."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say to him?" asked Enid, with her eyes on the tablecloth, +"if he says that he does not want to marry her—that he wants to marry +me?"</p> + +<p>"You must tell him the truth, my dear," said Miss Vane, rising briskly +from the table, and shaking out a fold of her dress on which some crumbs +had fallen—"namely, that you don't care a rap for him, but that you are +in love with the Beechfield parson; and if Hubert is a gentleman, he +will not press his claim. And to do Hubert justice, whatever may be his +faults, I believe that he generally acts like a gentleman."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane went away from the dining-room to dress for a drive and a +round of calls. Before long, Enid, who had refused to accompany her, was +left in the house alone; and then a vague desire began to take definite +shape in her mind. She would see Hubert for herself. She would claim her +own freedom, and tell him that he was free. He was well enough now to +listen to her, if he was well enough to write. She would go to him while +aunt Leo was out—that very afternoon.</p> + +<p>A hansom-cab made the matter very easy. She had almost a sense of +elation as she stood at the door of Hubert's sitting-room and knocked +her timid little knock, which had to be twice repeated before the door +was opened; and then a tall slight girl in black stood in the doorway +and asked her what she wanted.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mr. Lepel," said Enid, blushing and hesitating.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lepel has been ill." The girl's clear voice had a curious vibration +in it as she spoke. "Do you want to see him particularly?"</p> + +<p>Enid took courage and looked at her. The girl wore a black hat; her +dress was severely plain, and her face was pale. Enid thought there was +nothing remarkable about her—therefore that she could not be Cynthia +West.</p> + +<p>"I am his cousin," she explained simply, "and my name is Vane—Enid +Vane."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>A flash of new expression changed the girl's face at once. Not +remarkable—with those great dark eyes, and the lovely color coming and +going in the oval cheeks! Enid confessed her mistake to herself frankly. +The girl was remarkably handsome—it was a fact that could not be +gainsaid. Enid looked at her gravely, with a little feeling of repulsion +which she found it difficult to help.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?" said Cynthia. "Mr. Lepel is in his room; but he +means to get up this afternoon. If you will kindly wait for a few +moments in his sitting-room, I am sure that he will be with you before +long. I will speak to his man Jenkins."</p> + +<p>She had ushered Enid into Hubert's front room, from which the untidiness +had disappeared. His artistic properties were displayed to great +advantage, and every vase was filled with flowers. It was plain that a +woman's hand had been at work.</p> + +<p>Enid glanced around her with curiosity. Cynthia pushed a chair towards +her, and waited until the visitor had seated herself. Then, repeating +the words, "I will speak to his man Jenkins," she prepared to leave the +room.</p> + +<p>Enid rose from her chair.</p> + +<p>"You are Miss West," she said—"Cynthia West?"</p> + +<p>"Cynthia Westwood," replied the girl, and looked sorrowfully yet proudly +into Enid's eyes.</p> + +<p>Her face was flushed, but Enid's had turned pale.</p> + +<p>"Will you stay and speak to me for a minute or two? I see that you were +going out——"</p> + +<p>"It does not matter; I need not go," said Cynthia, removing her hat and +laying it carelessly on one of the tables. "If you want to speak to +me——"</p> + +<p>Neither of them concluded her sentence. Each was conscious of great +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>For once in her life, Cynthia stood like a culprit; for she thought that +Enid loved Hubert Lepel, and that she—Cynthia—had withdrawn him from +his allegiance. It was Enid who broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you," she said. "I came to see you more than to see +Hubert. I heard you were here."</p> + +<p>Cynthia looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"You heard Mrs. Vane's opinion of me, I suppose?" It was bitterly +spoken.</p> + +<p>"My uncle told me—not Mrs. Vane," said Enid. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> should not believe a +thing just because Mrs. Vane said it—nor my uncle, for his opinions all +come from Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>Her expressions were somewhat vague; but her meaning was clear. Cynthia +flashed a grateful glance at her.</p> + +<p>"You mean," she said, holding her graceful head a trifle higher than +usual, "that you do not think that I am unwomanly—that I have disgraced +myself—because I came here to nurse Mr. Lepel in his illness?"</p> + +<p>"No! I should have done the same in your place—if I loved a man."</p> + +<p>The color mounted to the roots of Cynthia's hair.</p> + +<p>"You know that?" she said quickly. "That I—I love him, I mean? There is +no use in denying it—I do. There is no harm in it. I shall not hurt him +by loving him—as I shall love him—to the last day of my life."</p> + +<p>"No; I should be the last person to blame you," said Enid very gently, +"because I know what love is myself;" and then the clear color flamed +all over her fair face as it had flamed in Cynthia's.</p> + +<p>Cynthia bit her lip.</p> + +<p>"You do not think," she said, with the impetuous abruptness which might +have been ungraceful in a less beautiful woman, but was never unbecoming +to her, "that because I love him I want to take him away from those who +have a better right than I to his love? I learned to care for him +unawares; I had given him my love in secret long before—before he knew. +He knows it now; I cannot help his knowing. But I am not ashamed. I +should be ashamed if I thought that I could make him unfaithful to you."</p> + +<p>Enid looked at her, and admired. Cynthia's generosity was taking her +heart by storm. But for the moment she could not speak, and Cynthia went +on rapidly.</p> + +<p>"You do not know what he has been to me. I have had trouble and +misfortune in my life, and I have had kindness and good friends also; +but he—he was almost the first—he and you together, Miss Vane, +although you do not know what I mean perhaps. Do you remember meeting a +ragged child on the road outside your park gates, and speaking kindly to +her and giving her your only shilling? That was myself!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>"You," cried Enid—"you that little gipsy girl! I remember that I could +not understand why I was sent away." Then she stopped short and looked +aside, fearing lest she had said something that might hurt.</p> + +<p>"I know," said Cynthia. "Your aunt—Miss Vane—was shocked to find you +talking to me, for she knew who I was. She sent you back to the house; +but before you went you asked Mr. Lepel to be good to me. He +promised—and he kept his word. Although I did not know it until long +afterwards, it was he who sent me to school for many years, and had me +trained and cared for in every possible way. I did not even know his +name; but I treasured up my memories of that one afternoon when I saw +him at Beechfield all through the years that I spent at school. I knew +your name; and I kept the shilling that you gave me, in remembrance of +your goodness. I have worn it ever since. See—it is round my neck now, +and I shall never part from it. And do you think that, after all these +years of gratitude and tender memory of your kindness, I would do you a +wrong so terrible as that of which Mrs. Vane accuses me? I would die +first! I love Hubert; but, if I may say so, I love you, Miss Vane, too, +humbly and from a distance—and I will never willingly give you a +moment's pain. I will be guided by what you wish me to do. If you tell +me to leave the house this day, I will go, and never see him more. You +have the right to command, and I will obey."</p> + +<p>"But why," said Enid slowly, "did you not think of all this earlier? +Why, when you were older, did you not remember that you—you had no +right——"</p> + +<p>She could not finish her sentence.</p> + +<p>"Because of his relationship to you, and his engagement to you?" said +Cynthia. "Oh, I see that I must tell you more! Miss Vane, I was +ungrateful enough to run away from the school at which he placed me, as +soon as my story became accidently known to my schoolfellows. I was then +befriended by an old musician, who taught me how to sing and got me an +engagement on the stage. When he died, I was reduced to great poverty. I +heard of Mr. Lepel at the theatre. He wrote plays, and had become +acquainted with my face and my stage-name; but he did not know that I +was the girl whom he had sent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> school; and I did not know that he was +the gentleman whom I had seen with you at Beechfield. His face sometimes +seemed vaguely familiar to me; but I could not imagine why."</p> + +<p>"And he did not remember you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I applied to him for help to get work," said Cynthia, +flushing hotly at the remembrance; "and he found out that I had a voice +and helped me. I went to him because I heard of his kindness to others, +and I had read a story that he had written, which made me think that he +would be kind. And he was kind—so kind that, without design, without +any attempt to win my heart, I fell in love with him, Miss Vane, not +knowing that he was your cousin, not knowing that he was plighted to +another. You may not forgive me for it; I can only say that I do not +think that it was my fault; and I am sure that he—he was not to blame. +You may punish me as you will"—there was a rising sob in Cynthia's +throat—"but you must forgive him, and he will be true—true to you."</p> + +<p>She covered her face and burst into passionate tears. She could control +herself no longer; and at first she hardly felt the touch of Enid's hand +upon her arm, or heard the words of comfort that fell from Enid's lips.</p> + +<p>"You do not understand me," Enid was saying, when at last Cynthia could +listen, "and I want to make you understand. I have misjudged you—will +you forgive me? It has been very, very hard for you!"</p> + +<p>The tears were rolling down her own cheeks as she spoke. Cynthia +surrendered her hand to Enid's clasp, and listened as if she were in a +dream—a pleasant beautiful dream, too good to last.</p> + +<p>"We may perhaps be divided all our lives," said Enid, "because of things +that happened when we were children—things that you cannot help any +more than I. But, as far as it is possible, I want always to be your +friend. Think of me as your friend—will you not, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"If I may," said Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"I shall always remember you," Enid went on. "And I do not think that it +was wrong for you to love Hubert, or for him to love you—and he does +love you, does he not? You need not be afraid to tell me, because I came +here chiefly for one thing—to tell him that I cannot marry him, and to +ask him to set me free."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>"Not for my sake?" said Cynthia, trembling from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"Not for your sake, dear, but for my own," said Enid, taking both her +hands and looking straight into Cynthia's tear-filled eyes; "because I +have been as unfaithful to him as I think that he has been to me—and I +have given my heart away to some one else. I am going to marry Mr. +Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield."</p> + +<p>The two girls were standing thus, hand-in-hand, the eyes of each fixed +on the other's face, when the door of communication with the next room +was suddenly opened. Hubert stood there, leaning on Jenkins' arm—for he +was still exceedingly weak—and the start of surprise which he gave when +he saw Enid and Cynthia was uncontrollable. Cynthia dropped Enid's hand +and turned away; there was something in her face which she could not +bear to have seen. Enid advanced towards her cousin, and held out her +hand in quiet friendly greeting.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + + +<p>"I have come to answer your note myself," said Enid to her cousin, as he +made his way with faltering steps into the room. "I hope that you are +better now?"</p> + +<p>Hubert had seldom felt himself in a more uncomfortable position. What +did this mean? Had Enid and Cynthia been comparing notes? He looked from +one to the other in helpless dismay, and scarcely answered Enid's +inquiry as he sank into the chair that Tom Jenkins wheeled forward for +him. Cynthia had turned her back upon the company, and was again putting +on her little black hat. It was plain that both she and Enid had been +crying.</p> + +<p>"You must have been very ill," said Enid, regarding him with +compassionate eyes.</p> + +<p>"For a few days I believe that I was rather bad; but I am all right +now," said Hubert, taking refuge in conventionalities. "My kind nurse +has introduced herself to you perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"We introduced ourselves to each other," said Enid; and then she walked +away from him to Cynthia. "Will you leave us together for a little +time?" she murmured. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> do not mind? I shall not be long; but I want +to make Hubert understand what I said to you just now."</p> + +<p>She had drawn Cynthia outside the door as she spoke. The two looked at +each other again gravely, and yet with a kind of pleasure and +satisfaction—then they kissed each other. Cynthia ran down-stairs; Enid +re-entered the drawing-room and closed the door. Mrs. Jenkins had +appeared on the scene with a tea-tray, which she arranged on a small +table at Hubert's elbow; and, till she had gone, Enid did not speak. She +sat down in a low arm-chair and observed her cousin steadily. He was +certainly very much changed. His hair was turning gray on the temples; +his eyes were hollow and haggard; he was exceedingly thin. There was an +air of gloom and depression about him which Enid had not noticed before.</p> + +<p>She gave him a cup of tea and took one herself before she would let him +speak of anything but commonplaces. He did not seem inclined to talk; +but, when she took away his cup, he laid a detaining hand on her arm, +and said—</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to come."</p> + +<p>"I would have come before if I had been able—and if you had wanted me."</p> + +<p>"You are always welcome," said Hubert. But his tone was languid, and his +eyes did not meet her own.</p> + +<p>"Hubert, are you well enough to have a little talk with me—a sort of +business conversation?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Enid. I am really quite well now." There was still no +alacrity in his reply.</p> + +<p>"And you wrote to me, saying that I had not written——"</p> + +<p>"And you had not—for a month or more," said he, smiling a little more +frankly into her face. "Was I wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Did you expect me to write?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You did not think that I should believe what your sister has been +saying?" Enid asked.</p> + +<p>"Flossy? What does she say?"</p> + +<p>"Miss West has not told you? Of course she knows; for she was here when +Mrs. Vane and the General called."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that everything disagreeable has been kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> from me," said +Hubert, after little pause. "I know that there is a pile of letters +which my nurses will not let me read. Tell me what has been going on."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to have to say disagreeable things to you," said Enid +softly. "It will not make you ill again, will it, Hubert?"</p> + +<p>"Out with it! It won't matter!" said Hubert, in a rather impatient tone. +"What do you want to say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing to make your pulse throb and your face flush in that manner," +she answered, sitting down beside him and laying her cool fingers on his +wrist. "Dear Hubert, I have no bad news for you, though I may say one or +two things that sound disagreeable. Please don't excite yourself in this +way, or I must go away."</p> + +<p>"No, no—you must speak out now; it will do me no harm. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Flossy saw Miss West here. She was displeased by her presence. Uncle +Richard believed every word that his wife said, and was led to think +that Cynthia West was a wicked designing creature who wanted to marry +you. You can imagine what Florence would say and what uncle Richard +would believe."</p> + +<p>"I can indeed! And did she come here and say this to Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"She said a great deal, I believe. She tried to make Cynthia go +away—Uncle Richard told me; and—shall I tell you everything, +Hubert?—he said that you would not be 'led astray' for very long, and +that I should find that you were true—true to me."</p> + +<p>"Enid, did you believe him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly what I believed. It seemed to me that Cynthia West +had done a very noble thing in coming to nurse you when you were ill."</p> + +<p>Hubert turned and seized her hands.</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless you for saying that, Enid! She saved my life."</p> + +<p>"And we should be grateful to her, and not malign her, should we not? +But it is only right, Hubert, that I should know the truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth? What is there to know?" said Hubert, relinquishing her hands +and frowning heavily. "Flossy is absurdly wrong and mistaken, and +Cynthia West is one of the noblest women in the world—that is all that +I have to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> say. When I am a little stronger, Enid, it will be better if +you will consent to marry me at once; then we can go away together and +spend the winter in Egypt or Algiers."</p> + +<p>He spoke hardily, determinedly. He had made up his mind to carry out his +sacrifice, if Enid desired it, at any cost. He had, as the General would +have said, returned to his allegiance.</p> + +<p>Enid looked at him with a keenness, an intentness, which struck him as +remarkable.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to marry you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do! Why else should I have asked you?" he returned, with +all a sick man's petulance. "I want to get the ceremony over as soon as +possible—as soon as you will consent. When shall it be!"</p> + +<p>"One moment, Hubert. Tell me first what I want to know. Is Flossy right +in saying that Cynthia loves you?"</p> + +<p>"You may be quite sure that Flossy is infernally wrong in anything she +says!" he answered.</p> + +<p>He had never spoken so roughly to her before. She drew back for a +second, and he immediately apologised.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Enid; I am sorry to be so irritable. Think of me as +a sick man still, and forgive me. But Flossy knows nothing of the +matter."</p> + +<p>"Not even that Cynthia cares for you?"</p> + +<p>A deep flush rose to his face.</p> + +<p>"You should not ask me. It is the last thing that I can tell," he said, +with the same sharpness of tone.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me another thing, Hubert. Do you not care for her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—a great deal. She has been a kind friend—an excellent nurse—and +I am grateful to her. Enid, I do not like to think that you believe me +to be untrue to you."</p> + +<p>She took his hand in hers and kissed it—a movement which discomposed +him exceedingly.</p> + +<p>"I did not think for one moment that you would desert me, Hubert, if I +wanted you to perform what you had promised."</p> + +<p>"Enid, what do you mean? Of course I shall perform what I have promised. +Has Flossy been making you jealous and suspicious? My dear, believe me, +there is no occasion for you to be so. You are very dear to me, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> I +will be faithful to you always. You shall never have cause to complain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she said gently. "You are very good, Hubert, and you +would not for the world do what you think to be a cruel thing. But would +it not be better for you to be perfectly open with me? If you care for +Cynthia West, would it not be better even for me that you should marry +the woman whom you love?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him and saw his face twitch. Then he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"This is folly, Enid, and I am really not strong enough to stand it. You +have no need to be troubled with doubts and fears, my little girl. +Cynthia West is as good and true as a woman can be; and I—I mean to +make you happy and do my duty as a man should do."</p> + +<p>Enid smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Hubert, I am so glad that you say that!" she cried. Hubert looked +worried, tormented, anything but glad; but she went on: "I always +trusted you—always believed in you—and I was right. You would never be +untrue—you would never——"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, Enid, stop!" said Hubert faintly. "I can't—I can't +bear this sort of thing!" And indeed he looked so ghastly that she had +to find smelling-salts and bring him some cold water to drink before she +could go on.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," she said penitently, "and I will say what I have to +say very quickly, if you will let me. You will not acknowledge the +truth, I see, though it would be wiser if you would. You love Cynthia +West, and Cynthia loves you; and, though you are willing to keep your +word to me, you care for me only as a cousin and a friend. Is not that +really the truth?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Enid, you are developing a wonderful amount of imagination and, +I may say, of courage!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about imagination," she said, smiling again; "but I think +that I have gained a great deal of courage since I saw you last. As you +will not set me free for your own sake, I must ask you to set me free +for mine. I cannot marry you, Hubert. Will you forgive me for breaking +my word?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes shone so brightly, her smile was so sweet, that Hubert looked +at her in amazement. He had never seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> her half so beautiful. She was +transfigured; for love and happiness had done their work, and made her +lovelier than she had ever been in all her life before.</p> + +<p>"I am in earnest," she went on. "I have been false to you, Hubert +dear—and yet I never liked you so well as I like you now. I have given +my word to some one else—to some one that I love better—and I want to +know if you will forgive me and set me free."</p> + +<p>"Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready—anxious—to +marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far——"</p> + +<p>Enid laughed in his face.</p> + +<p>"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am +speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, +better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound."</p> + +<p>He caught her by the hands.</p> + +<p>"Really—truly—Enid? You love him?"</p> + +<p>"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom +I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart +and soul!"—and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy +smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement.</p> + +<p>"And are you happy?"</p> + +<p>"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now +acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia—is not that true?"</p> + +<p>"Enid, you are a witch!"</p> + +<p>"And she loves you?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of +tone, he said—</p> + +<p>"I fear so, Enid."</p> + +<p>"You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to +marry."</p> + +<p>Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own.</p> + +<p>"You mean because of my father?" she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes—because of your father."</p> + +<p>But he did not mean it in the sense that she attributed to his words. He +lay back in his chair, sighing heavily, and again growing very pale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>"Hubert," said the girl, "I think you are wrong. Cynthia is not to blame +for her father's actions—it is not fair to punish the innocent for the +guilty."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I must tell you before you go on that Cynthia does not believe +her father guilty."</p> + +<p>"Not guilty? Oh, Hubert! But you think so, do you not?"</p> + +<p>He struggled with himself for a minute.</p> + +<p>"No, Enid," he said at last.</p> + +<p>Her face grew troubled and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"But the jury said that he was guilty! You think that they were wrong? +Perhaps some new evidence has been found! I shall be glad for Cynthia's +sake if her father is innocent."</p> + +<p>"Shall you, Enid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; for it must be such a terrible thing for a girl to know that her +father has committed a great crime. She can never forget it; her whole +life must be overshadowed by the remembrance. I am so thankful to think +that my own dear father—although his end was tragic—lived a good and +honorable life. It would be awful for Cynthia if she believed her father +to be a wicked man!"</p> + +<p>Hubert turned away his face. It was terrible to him to hear her speak +thus. It seemed to him that, whenever an impulse came upon him to speak +the truth, she herself made the truth appear unspeakable. Better perhaps +to leave the matter where it stood. It was a mere question of +transferring a burden from Cynthia's strong to Enid's feeble shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Whether Westwood was really innocent or guilty," he said, with an +effort, "is not for us to decide—now."</p> + +<p>"No; and therefore we must do our best for Cynthia and for ourselves," +said Enid, with sudden resolution. "I did not know before that there was +even a doubt about his guilt; but, if so, our way is all the clearer, +Hubert. You are not hesitating because you do not want to marry a +convict's daughter, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"Then it is because you are afraid that we—that I perhaps—shall be +hurt? I know that Flossy and the General feel strongly on the point. +But, Hubert, I absolve you—I give you leave. In my father's name I +speak; for I am sure that in another world where all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> things are known +he sees as I do—that the innocent must not be punished for the guilty. +If you love Cynthia, Hubert, marry her; and I will give you my best +wishes for your happiness. I am sure that it should be so—else why +should God have permitted you to love each other?"</p> + +<p>"Enid, you are an angel!" cried Hubert.</p> + +<p>He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt tears hot upon +her fingers, and knew that they came from his eyes. She bent down and +kissed his forehead.</p> + +<p>"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear +you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that +I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble, +that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad +together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think +of each other lovingly, shall we not?"</p> + +<p>"I shall think of you—gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down +upon his hands—"as of an angel from heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to +you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye."</p> + +<p>He would have detained her—perhaps to say more words of +gratitude—perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from +his clasping hand and quietly left the room. She knew that he was better +alone. She went down-stairs, let herself out of the house, and met +Cynthia on the steps. The girl was just returning after a hurried walk +round and round the square.</p> + +<p>"Go to him," said Enid softly. "He wants help and comfort, and he wants +your love. You will be very happy by-and-by."</p> + +<p>And Cynthia went.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's +chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some +fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly +justified.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room.</p> + +<p>It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk +again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon +his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he +had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the +sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight +that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side.</p> + +<p>"You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited.</p> + +<p>"I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed."</p> + +<p>He caught her hand.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Cynthia—I want to say something."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"No, not to-morrow—to-night. I am quite well able to talk. Cynthia, +where is your father?"</p> + +<p>The question was utterly unexpected.</p> + +<p>"My father?" she echoed. "Why do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have an impression that he is in England, and that you have +seen him lately."</p> + +<p>"If I had," said Cynthia tremulously, "I should be bound not to tell any +one."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is true! And you would not trust even me," he remarked, with a +great sigh. "Well, I suppose that you are right!"</p> + +<p>"I trust you perfectly," she said.</p> + +<p>"You have no reason to do so. Cynthia, do you know why Enid Vane came +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—she told me."</p> + +<p>"She is engaged to Mr. Evandale. She has set me free."</p> + +<p>There was a silence. Cynthia did not move; and at last Hubert said, in a +stifled voice—</p> + +<p>"I love one woman, and one only. What can I say to her?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but that," said Cynthia softly; and then she turned and kissed +him.</p> + +<p>"I dare not say even that," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Why not? You told me once of an obstacle—Enid Vane was the obstacle, +was she not?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>"One obstacle. But there was another."</p> + +<p>"Another!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What could that be?"</p> + +<p>She was kneeling beside him, her hand locked fast in his, her arm upon +his shoulder. A sort of sob broke from his lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling," he said, "I am the last man that you ought ever to +have loved!"</p> + +<p>"But I love you now, Hubert."</p> + +<p>"I am a villian, Cynthia—a mean miserable cur! Can't you accept that +fact, and leave me without asking why?"</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot, Hubert; I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"It is no good telling me that—I know myself too well. Believe all that +I say, Cynthia, and give me up. Don't make me tell you why."</p> + +<p>"I shall always love you," she whispered, "whether you are bad or good."</p> + +<p>"Suppose that I had injured any one that was very dear to you—saved +myself from punishment at his expense? I daren't go any farther. Is +there nothing that you can suppose that I have done—the very hardest +thing in the whole world for you to forgive? You can't forgive it, I +know; to tell you means to cut myself off from you for the rest of my +life; and yet I cannot make up my mind to take advantage of your +ignorance. I have resolved, Cynthia, that I will not say another word +of—of love to you—until you know the truth."</p> + +<p>She gazed at him, her lips growing white, her eyes dilating with sudden +terror.</p> + +<p>"There is only one thing," she said at length, "that I—that I——"</p> + +<p>"That you could not forgive. I am answered, Cynthia; it is that one +thing that I have done."</p> + +<p>He spoke very calmly, but his face was white with a pallor like that of +death. She remained motionless; it seemed as if she could scarcely dare +to breathe, and her face was as pale as his own.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she said presently, only just above her breath, "you must be +saying what you do not mean!"</p> + +<p>"I would to God that I did not mean it!" he exclaimed, bestirring +himself and trying to rise. "Get up, Cynthia; I cannot lie here and see +you kneeling there. Rather let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> me kneel to you; for I have wronged +you—I have wronged your father beyond forgiveness. It was I—I who +killed Sydney Vane!"</p> + +<p>He was standing now; but she still knelt beside the sofa, with her face +full of terror.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she said caressingly, "you do not know what you say. Sit down, +my darling, and keep quiet. You will be better soon."</p> + +<p>"I am not raving," he answered her; "I am only speaking the truth. God +help me! All these years I have kept the secret, Cynthia; but it is +true—I swear before God that it is true! It was I who killed Sidney +Vane. Now curse me if you will, as your father did long years ago."</p> + +<p>He fell back on the sofa, and buried his face in his hands with a moan +of intolerable pain.</p> + +<p>There came a long silence. Cynthia did not move; she also had hidden her +face.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said at last, "I do not know what to do! My poor father—my +poor father! Think of the shame and anguish that he went through! Oh, +how could you bear to let him suffer so?" And then she wept bitterly and +unrestrainedly; and Hubert sat with his head bowed in his hands.</p> + +<p>But after a time she became calm; and then, without looking up, she +said, in a low voice—</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear it all now. Tell me how it happened."</p> + +<p>He started and removed his hands from his face. It was so haggard, so +miserable, that Cynthia, as she glanced at him, could not forbear an +impulse of pity. But she averted her head and would not look at him +again.</p> + +<p>"You must tell me everything now," she said.</p> + +<p>And so he told the story. He found it hard to begin; but as he went on, +a certain relief came to him, in spite of shame and sorrow, at the +disburthening himself of his secret. He did not spare himself. He told +the tale very fully, and, little by little, it seemed to Cynthia that +she began to understand his life, his character, his very soul, as she +had never understood them before. She understood, but she did not love.</p> + +<p>The confession left her cold; her father's wrongs had turned her heart +to stone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>"And now," he said, when he had finished his story, "you can fetch your +father and clear him in the eyes of the world as soon as you like. I +will take any punishment that the law allots me. But I think that I +shall not have to bear it long. Even a life sentence ends one day, thank +God!"</p> + +<p>Then Cynthia spoke.</p> + +<p>"You think," she said very coldly, "that I shall tell your story—that I +shall denounce you to the police?"</p> + +<p>"As you please, Cynthia," he answered, with a sadness born of despair.</p> + +<p>"You throw the burden on me!" she said. "You have thrown your burdens on +other people's shoulders all your life, it seems. But now you must bear +your own." She rose and moved away from him. "I shall not accuse you. +Your confession is safe enough with me. You forget that I—I loved you +once. I cannot give you up to justice even for my father's sake. You +must manage the matter for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," he cried hoarsely—"Cynthia, be merciful!"</p> + +<p>"Had you any mercy for my father?" she asked him, looking at him with +eyes in which the reproach was terrible to his inmost soul. "Did you +ever think what he had to bear?" Her hand was on the door. "I am going +now," she said—"I am going to my father; I have learned the place in +which he lives. But I shall not tell him what you have just told me. +Justify him to the world if you like; till that is done, I will never +speak to you again."</p> + +<p>"Cynthia—Cynthia!" cried the wretched man.</p> + +<p>He rose from the sofa and stretched out his arms blindly towards her. +But she would not relent.</p> + +<p>As she left the room, he fell to the floor—insensible for the second +time that day. She heard the crashing fall—she knew that he was in +danger; but her heart was hardened, and she would not look back. The +only thing she did was to call Jenkins before she left the house and +send him to his master. And then she went out into the street, and said +to herself that she would never enter the house again.</p> + +<p>Jenkins went up to the drawing-room, and found Mr. Lepel lying on the +floor. He and his wife managed with some difficulty to get him back to +bed. Then they sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> for the Doctor. But, when the Doctor came, he shook +his head, and looked very serious over Hubert's state. A relapse had +taken place; he was delirious again; and no one could say whether he +would recover from this second attack. Cynthia was asked for at once; +but Cynthia was nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>"She will come back, no doubt, sir," Jenkins said.</p> + +<p>"I hope she will," the Doctor answered, "for Mr. Lepel's chances are +considerably lessened by her absence."</p> + +<p>But the night passed, and the next day followed, and the next; but +Cynthia never came.</p> + +<p>In the meantime there was one person in the house who knew more of her +than she chose to say. Miss Sabina Meldreth had been keeping her eye, by +Mrs. Vane's orders, upon Cynthia West. She had listened at the door +during the conversation between Enid and Hubert, but without much +result. Their voices had been subdued, and she had gained nothing for +her pains. But it was somewhat different during the interview between +Cynthia and Hubert. The emotion of the two speakers had been rather too +difficult to repress. Some few of Hubert's words, as well as Cynthia's +passionate sobs, had reached her ears; and Cynthia's last sentences, +spoken in a clear penetrating voice, had not been lost on her. She was +behind the folding-door between the two rooms when Cynthia made her +exit. Sabina Meldreth's heart beat with excitement. Miss West would go +to her father, would she? Then she, Sabina, would follow her—would +track the felon to his hiding-place! The hint that Hubert could clear +him if he would was lost upon her in the delight of this discovery. She +could not afford to miss this opportunity of pleasing Mrs. Vane and +earning three hundred pounds. She followed Cynthia down-stairs, seized a +hat from a peg in the hall, and walked out into the street.</p> + +<p>It was already dark, but the girl's tall graceful figure was easily +discernible at some little distance. Miss Meldreth followed her +hurriedly; she was determined to lose no chance of discovering Westwood +and delivering him up to the authorities.</p> + +<p>Down one street after another did she track the convict's daughter. +Cynthia went through quiet quarters—if she had ventured into a crowded +thoroughfare, she would soon have been lost to view. But she had no +suspicion that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> she was being pursued, or she might have been more +careful. In a quiet little court on the north side of Holborn she +presently came to a halt. There was a dingy little house with "Lodgings +to Let" on a card in the window, and at the door of this house she +stopped and gave three knocks with her knuckles. In a few moments the +door was opened, and she stepped in. Sabina could not see who admitted +her.</p> + +<p>She waited for some time. A light appeared after a while in an upper +window, and one or two shadows crossed the white linen blind. Sabina +went a little higher up the court and watched. Shadows came +again—first, the shadow of a woman with a hat upon her head—ah, that +was Miss West!—next that of a man—nearer the window and more distinct. +Sabina thought that she recognised the slight stoop of the shoulders, +the stiff and halting gait.</p> + +<p>"I've caught you at last, have I, Mr. Reuben Dare!" she said to herself, +with a chuckle, as she noted the number of the house and the name of the +court. "Well, I shall get three hundred pounds for this night's work! +I'll wait a bit and see what happens next."</p> + +<p>What happened next was that the lights were extinguished and that the +house seemed to be shut up.</p> + +<p>"Safe for the night!" said Sabina, chuckling to herself. "I won't let +the grass grow under my feet this time. I'll tell the police to-morrow +morning, and I'll write to Mrs. Vane as well. He shan't escape us now!"</p> + +<p>She retraced her steps to Russell Square, and at once indited a letter +to Mrs. Vane with a full account of all that she had seen and heard. She +slipped out to post it that very night, and lay down with the full +intention of going to Scotland Yard the next morning. But in the morning +she was delayed for an hour only; but that hour was fatal to her plans. +When the police visited the house in Vernon Court, they found that the +rooms were empty, and that Cynthia and her father had disappeared. +Nobody knew anything about them; and the police retired in an +exceedingly bad humor, pouring anathemas upon Sabina's head. But Sabina +did not care; she had received news which had stupefied her for a time +and hindered her in the execution of her designs—little Dick Vane was +dead.</p> + +<p>The child had never rallied from the accident which had befallen him. +For several days and nights he had lain in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> a state of coma; and then, +still unconscious, he had passed away. His watchers scarcely knew at +what moment he ceased to breathe; even the General, who had seldom left +his side, could not tell exactly when the child died. So peacefully the +little life came to a close that it seemed only that his sleep was +preternaturally long. And with him a long course of perplexity and +deceit seemed likely also to have its end.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vane had disappointed and displeased the General during the boy's +illness; she had steadily refused to nurse him—even to see him, towards +the end. The General was an easy and indulgent husband, but he noticed +that his wife seemed to have no love for the child who was all in all to +him. The worst came when Flossy refused to look at the boy's dead face +when he was gone. The General reproached her for her hardness of heart, +and declared bitterly that the child had never known a mother's love. +And Flossy did not easily forgive the imputation, although she professed +to accept it meekly, and to excuse herself by saying that her nerves +were too delicate to bear the shock of seeing a dead child.</p> + +<p>Troubles seemed to heap themselves upon the General's head. His boy had +gone; Enid, whom he tenderly loved, had left his house; Hubert, to whom +also he was much attached, lay ill again, and was scarcely expected to +recover. By the time the funeral was over, the General had worked +himself up to such a state of nervous anxiety, that it was felt by his +friends that some immediate change must be made in his manner of life. +And here a suggestion of Flossy's became unexpectedly useful—she +proposed that the General should go to his sister's for a time, and that +she should stay at Hubert's lodging.</p> + +<p>It was not that she cared very much for her brother, or that she was +likely to prove a good nurse, but that she was afraid, from what Sabina +said, that Hubert might be doing something rash—making confession +perhaps, or taking Cynthia West into his confidence. If she were on the +spot, she felt that she could hinder any such rash proceeding with +Sabina's help.</p> + +<p>But Sabina was not to the fore. When she heard that Mrs. Vane was coming +to town, she threw up her engagement and went back to her aunt's at +Camden Town. A trained nurse took her place, and Mrs. Vane lodged in the +house.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>Contrary to the doctor's expectations, Hubert survived the crisis of his +fever, and passed at last into the convalescent stage; though very weak, +he was pronounced to be out of danger, and he began to grow stronger +every day. But, as every one who had known him in happier days had +reason to remark, he bore himself like an utterly broken-hearted, +broken-spirited man. It seemed as if he would never hold up his head +again—all hope went from him when Cynthia left his side.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Cynthia had, as Sabina suspected, gone straight to her father when she +left Russell Square. Some time before he had let her know that he was +still in England, and had sent her his address, warning her however not +to visit him unless she was obliged to do so. On this occasion she had +almost forgotten his warning; she went to him as a child often goes to +its parents, more for comfort than for absolute protection; and he was +astonished, as well as alarmed, when she flung herself into his arms and +wept on his shoulder, calling him now and then by all sorts of endearing +names, but refusing to explain to him the reason of her visit or of her +grief.</p> + +<p>"It's not that man that you're fond of, is it, my dearie? He hasn't +played you false, has he?"</p> + +<p>"No, father, no—not in the way you mean."</p> + +<p>"He ain't worse—dying or anything?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!"—with a sudden constriction of the heart, which might have +told her how dear Hubert was to her still.</p> + +<p>"Then you've quarrelled?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we have," said Cynthia, with an unnatural hysterical laugh. +"Oh, yes—we have quarrelled, and we shall never see each other any +more!"</p> + +<p>"In that case, my girl, you'd better cast in your lot with me. Shall we +leave England to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Is it safer for you to go or to stay, father?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's about equal," said Westwood cheerfully. "They're watching +the ports, I understand; so maybe I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> should have a difficulty in getting +off. On the other hand, I'm pretty certain that the landlady here +suspects me; and I thought of making tracks early to-morrow morning, +Cynthia, my dear, if you have no objection to an early start."</p> + +<p>"Anything you please, dear father."</p> + +<p>"We're safest in London, I think," said Westwood thoughtfully; "but I +think that I shall try to get out of the country as soon as I can. I am +afraid it is no good to follow up my clue, Cynthia; I can't find out +anything more about Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>Cynthia gave a little shiver, and then clung to him helplessly; she +could not speak.</p> + +<p>"I've sometimes thought," her father continued, "that your young +man—Mr. Lepel—knew more than he chose to say. I've sometimes wondered +whether—knowing me to be your father and all that, Cynthia—there might +not be a chance of getting him to tell all the truth, supposing that I +went to him and threw myself on his—his generosity, so to speak? Do you +think he'd give me up, Cynthy?"</p> + +<p>"No, father—I don't think he would."</p> + +<p>"It might be worth trying. A bold stroke succeeds sometimes where a +timid one might fail. He's ill, you say, still, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia thought of the fall that she had heard as she left the room.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered almost inaudibly; "he has been very ill, and he is +not strong yet."</p> + +<p>"And you've left him all the same?" said her father, regarding her +curiously. "There must have been something serious—eh, my lass?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, don't ask me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you care for him now then, my girl?" said Westwood, with more +tenderness than he usually showed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I don't know! I think I—I hate him; but I cannot be +sure."</p> + +<p>"It's his fault then? He's done something bad?"</p> + +<p>"Very bad!" cried poor Cynthia, hiding her face.</p> + +<p>"And you can't forgive him?"</p> + +<p>"Not—not till he has made amends!" said the girl, with a passionate +sob.</p> + +<p>Her father sat looking at her with a troubled face.</p> + +<p>"If your mother hadn't forgiven me many and many a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> time, Cynthia," he +said at last, "I should have gone to destruction long before she died. +But as long as ever she lived she kept me straight."</p> + +<p>"She was your wife," said Cynthia, in a choked voice. "I am not Hubert's +wife—and I never shall be now. Never mind, father; we were right to +separate, and I am glad that we have done it. Now will you tell me where +you are thinking of going, or if you have made any plans?"</p> + +<p>Westwood shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I've got no plans, my dear—except to slip out at the door, early +to-morrow morning. Where I go next I am sure I do not know."</p> + +<p>Cynthia resolutely banished the thought of her own affairs, and set +herself to consider possibilities. Her mind reverted again and again to +the Jenkins family. Their connection with Hubert made it seem a little +dangerous to have anything to do with them at present; and yet Cynthia +was inclined to trust Tom Jenkins very far. He was thoroughly honest and +true, and he was devoted to her service; but, after some reflection, she +abandoned this idea. If she and her father were to be together, she had +better seek some place where her own face was unknown and her father's +history forgotten. After a little consideration, she remembered some +people whom she had heard of in the days of her engagement at the +Frivolity. They let lodgings in an obscure street in Clerkenwell; and, +as they were quiet inoffensive folk, Cynthia thought that she and her +father might be as safe with them as elsewhere. She did not urge her +father to leave England at present; for she had a vague feeling that she +ought not to cut him off from the chance—a feeble chance, but still a +chance—of being cleared by Hubert Lepel's confession. She had not much +hope; and yet it seemed to her possible that Hubert might choose to tell +the truth at last, and that she could but hope that, having confessed to +her, he might also confess to the world at large, and show that Westwood +was an innocent and deeply injured man.</p> + +<p>She stayed the night, sleeping on a little sofa in the sitting-room; but +early the next day they went out together, making one of the early +morning "flittings" to which Westwood was accustomed; and Cynthia took +her father to his new lodgings in Clerkenwell.</p> + +<p>For some days she did not go out again. Excitement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> and the shock of +Hubert's confession had for once disorganised her splendid health. She +felt strangely weak and ill, and lay in her bed without eating or +speaking, her face turned to the wall, her head throbbing, her hands and +feet deathly cold. Westwood watched her anxiously and wanted her to have +a doctor; but Cynthia refused all medical advice. She was only worn out +with nursing, she said, and needed a long rest; she would be better +soon.</p> + +<p>One day when she had got up, but had not yet ventured out of doors, her +father came into her room with a bunch of black grapes which he had +brought for her to eat.</p> + +<p>"How good you are, father!" Cynthia said gratefully.</p> + +<p>She took one to please him but she did not seem inclined to eat. She was +sitting in a wooden chair by the window, looking pale and listless. +There were dark shadows under her eyes and a sad expression about her +mouth; one would scarcely have known her again for the brilliant beauty +who had carried all before her when she sang in London drawing-rooms not +three months earlier.</p> + +<p>Her father looked at her with sympathetic attention.</p> + +<p>"You want cockering up," he said, "and coddling and waiting on. When +once we get out of this darned old country, you shall see something +different, my girl! I've got money enough to do the thing in style when +we reach the States. You shall have all you want there, and no mistake!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father," said the girl, with a listless smile.</p> + +<p>"I've had a long walk to-day," Westwood said, after a pause, "and I've +been into what you would call danger, my girl. Ah, that rouses you up a +bit, doesn't it? I've been to Russell Square."</p> + +<p>"To Russell Square." Cynthia's face turned crimson at once. "Oh, father, +did you see—did you hear——"</p> + +<p>"Did I hear of Mr. Lepel? That's what I went for, my beauty! In spite of +your quarrel, I thought you'd maybe like to hear how he was getting on. +I talked to the gardener, a bit; Mr. Lepel's been ill again, you know."</p> + +<p>"A relapse?" said Cynthia quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a relapse. They've had a hospital-nurse for him, I hear. He's not +raving now, they say, but very weak and stupid-like."</p> + +<p>"Have none of his friends come to nurse him?" said Cynthia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>"I don't know. The gardener wouldn't hear that, maybe. He said there'd +been a death in the family—some child or other. Would that be General +Vane's little boy, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"It might be."</p> + +<p>"Then Miss Vane will be the heiress. She and Mr. Lepel——" He hesitated +for a moment, and Cynthia looked up.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vane is going to marry Mr. Evandale father. She is not engaged to +Mr. Lepel now."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Not engaged to Mr. Lepel now? Then what the dickens," said Westwood +very deliberately, "did you and Mr. Lepel quarrel about, I should like +to know?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, father. Nothing to do with that, however."</p> + +<p>"I expect it was all a woman's freak. I had made up my mind for you to +marry that fellow, Cynthia. I rather liked the looks of him. I'd have +given you a thumping dowry and settled him out in America, if you'd +liked. It would have been better than the life of a newspaper-man in +London any day."</p> + +<p>Cynthia did not answer. Her face wore a look of settled misery which +made Westwood uncomfortable. He went on doggedly.</p> + +<p>"When he gets better, I think I shall go and see him about this. I've no +mind to see my girl break her heart before my eyes. You know you're fond +of him. Why make such a mystery of it? Marry him, and make him sorry for +his misdeeds afterwards. That's my advice."</p> + +<p>Cynthia's hands began to tremble in her lap. She said nothing however, +and Westwood did not pursue the subject. But a few days later she asked +him a question which showed what was weighing on her mind.</p> + +<p>"Father, what do you think about forgiveness? We ought to forgive those +that have injured us, I suppose? They always said so at St. +Elizabeth's."</p> + +<p>"Up to a certain point, I think, my girl. It's no good forgiving them +that are not sorry for what they've done. It would go to my heart not to +punish a rascal that robbed me and laughed in my face afterwards, you +know. But, if I've reason to think that he's repented and tried to make +amends, why, then, I think a man's a fool who doesn't say, 'All right, +old fellow—try again and good luck to you!'"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>"Make amends! Ah, that is the test!" said Cynthia, in a very low voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is and it isn't," said her father sturdily. "Making amends is +a very difficult matter sometimes. The best way sometimes is to put all +that's been bad behind you, and start again fresh without meddling with +the old affairs. Of course it's pretty hard to tell whether a man's +repentant or whether he is not."</p> + +<p>He knew very well that she was thinking of Hubert Lepel, and was +therefore all the more cautious and all the more gentle in what he said. +For he had gone over to Hubert's side in the absence of any precise +knowledge as to what the quarrel had been about. "A woman's sure to be +in the wrong!" he said to himself—hence his advice.</p> + +<p>"But, if one is sure—quite sure—that a man repents," said Cynthia +falteringly, "or, at least, that he is sorry, and if the wrong is not so +much to oneself, but to somebody else that is dear to one, then——"</p> + +<p>"If you care enough to worry about the man, forgive him, and have done +with it!" said her father. "Now look here, Cynthy—let's have no beating +about the bush! I think I know pretty well what's happening. Mr. Lepel +knows something about that murder business—I am pretty sure of that. +You think, rightly or wrongly, that he could have cleared me if he had +tried. Well, maybe so—maybe not; I can't tell. But, my dear, I don't +want you to bother your head about me. If you're fond of the fellow, you +needn't let my affairs stand in your way. Why, as a matter of fact, I'm +better off now than I should ever have been in England; so what seemed +to be a misfortune has turned out to my advantage. I'm content enough. +Mr. Lepel has held his tongue, you say"—though Cynthia had not uttered +a single word; "but I reckon it was for his sister's sake. And, though +she's a bad lot, I don't see how a man could tell of his sister, +Cynthy—I don't indeed. So you go back to Mr. Lepel and tell him not to +bother himself. I can take care of myself now, and all this rubbish +about clearing my character may as well be knocked on the head. As soon +as I'm out of the country, I don't care a rap! You tell that to Mr. +Lepel, my beauty, and make it up with him. I wouldn't for the world that +you should be unhappy because I've been unfortunate."</p> + +<p>This was a long speech for Westwood; and Cynthia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> came and put her hands +on his shoulders and laid her cheek to his long before he had finished.</p> + +<p>"Dear father," she said, "you are very good and very generous!"</p> + +<p>"Confess now, Cynthy—you love him, don't you?" said Westwood, with +unusual gentleness.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I do, father," she said, crying as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Then be faithful to him, my lass, like your mother was to me."</p> + +<p>They said no more. But Cynthia brooded over her father's words for the +next three days and nights. Then she came to him one day with her hat +and cloak on, as if she were going for a walk.</p> + +<p>"Father," she began abruptly, "do you allow me to go to Hubert—to see +him, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Although you believe what you said—and what I did not say—that he +could have cleared you if he had liked?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear—if you love him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I love him," said Cynthia sadly.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to sail next week; he'll never be troubled by me again," said +her father. "You can either stay with him, Cynthia, or he can come out +with us. Out there we can all forget what's over and done. You go to him +and tell him so at once."</p> + +<p>He kissed her on the forehead with unaccustomed solemnity. Cynthia flung +her arms round his neck and gave him a warm embrace. The eyes of both +father and daughter were wet as they said good-bye.</p> + +<p>Cynthia knew nothing of Mrs. Vane's visit to London. She expected to +meet a trained nurse only, and the Jenkins—Sabina Meldreth and the +doctor perhaps beside, but no one else. She set forth at an hour which +would enable her to reach the house when Hubert was likely to be up—at +least, if he were able to leave his bed. She did not know what she was +going to say to him—what line she was about to take. She only knew that +she could not bear to be away from him any longer, and that love and +forgiveness were the two thoughts uppermost in her mind.</p> + +<p>She was not aware that her father had considered it unfit for her to go +alone to Russell Square. He had followed her all the way from +Clerkenwell, and was in the square<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> immediately behind herself. When she +mounted the steps and rang the bell, he crossed the road and walked +along the pavement by the gardens in the middle of the square. Here he +fancied that he should be unobserved. He saw the door opened; he saw +Cynthia making her inquiries of the servant. Then she went in, and the +door was shut.</p> + +<p>He waited for some time. Presently a man, whom he knew to be the +faithful Jenkins, appeared on the steps of the house and looked about +him. Then he crossed the road and advanced to Westwood, who was leaning +against the railings.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reuben Dare, I think?" he said, touching his hair respectfully. +Westwood stared at the sound of that name. "Miss West and Mr. Lepel +wants to know if you will kindly come up-stairs. They have a word or two +to say, and they hope that you will not fail to come."</p> + +<p>Westwood smiled to himself—a rather peculiar smile.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said; "if they want me to come, I'll come. But I think +they had both better have let me stay away."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he followed Jenkins to the house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + + +<p>The door had been opened to Cynthia by a strange servant. She asked if +Mr. Lepel was at home—a conventionalism of which she immediately +repented. Was he well enough to see anybody, at least? she asked.</p> + +<p>The girl did not know, but asked her to walk inside. Mr. Lepel was +better; he was dressed every day and sat in the drawing-room; but he had +not seen any visitors as yet. He was in the drawing-room now, she +thought, and he was alone.</p> + +<p>"I will go up," said Cynthia decidedly. "You need not announce me. I +will go myself; he knows me very well."</p> + +<p>The girl fell back doubtfully; but Cynthia's tone was so resolute, her +air so assured, that there was nothing for it but to give way. Besides +Mrs. Vane was out, and nobody had said what was to be done in case of +visitors.</p> + +<p>Cynthia went in very quietly. Hubert was lying on a sofa in the darkest +corner of the room. The blinds were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> partially closed; but she could see +his face, and she thought at first that he was asleep. His eyes were +closed, his hands were stretched at his sides; his attitude was +expressive of the utmost langour and weariness. She came a little nearer +and looked at him closely. His frame was sadly wasted, and there was an +expression of suffering and melancholy upon his face that touched her +deeply. She drew nearer and nearer to the sofa; but he did not look up +until she was almost close to him. Then he opened his eyes. She cried +"Hubert!" and dropped on her knees beside him, so as to bring her face +upon a level with his own. She put her arms around him and kissed his +cheek.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hubert," she said, "I could not stay away! I love you, my +darling—I love you in spite of all! Will you forgive me for being so +cruel when I saw you last?"</p> + +<p>She felt him tremble a little.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia!" he said; and then with a sudden gesture he threw his arm +around her, rested his head upon her shoulder, and burst into +tears—tears of weakness in part, but tears also of love, of penitence, +of almost unbearable relief.</p> + +<p>She held him close to her, kissing his dark head from time to time, and +calling him by fond, caressing names. But for some minutes he did not +seem to be able or to care to speak. She caught the word "Forgive!" once +or twice between his gasps for breath; but she could distinguish nothing +more.</p> + +<p>"Darling," she said at last, "you will do yourself harm if this goes on. +Be calm, and let us talk together a little time. Yes, I forgive you, if +I must say so before anything else. There, there! Ah, my own love, how +could I have left you so long? I was cruel and unkind!"</p> + +<p>"No, Cynthia—no! I never thought that I should see you again," he said +brokenly. "Don't leave me again—just yet."</p> + +<p>"I will never leave you, if you like," she murmured softly.</p> + +<p>"Never, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"So long as we both do live. You know what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I daren't think. You don't mean that you will now—now become——"</p> + +<p>"Your wife? Yes, if you will have me, Hubert. There is no barrier +between us now."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>"Your father?" he murmured, looking at her with weary wistful eyes.</p> + +<p>"My father sent me to you to-day. No, darling, I have not told him."</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven you had, Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>"What! I betray your confidence? No, I could not do that. But he had +some notion already, Hubert. He told me that he suspected you—or your +sister—some time ago; and he said to me to-day that he believed that +you could have cleared him if you had liked."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say? I wish that you had found it in your heart to +tell him everything you knew."</p> + +<p>"I could not do that. But I did not deny what he had said!" and then she +told him all that she remembered of her father's words.</p> + +<p>"His generosity crushes me to the earth!" said Hubert hoarsely. "I must +tell him the whole story, and let him decide."</p> + +<p>"He has decided."</p> + +<p>"I cannot accept that decision. Since I have been lying here, Cynthia, +and since you left me, I have seen it all as it appeared in your eyes. I +have wondered at my own cowardice; and I hope—I trust that I have +repented of it. It is time that I did, Cynthia, for I believe that I am +a dying man."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him passionately. "You will get better +now—you must get better—for my sake!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could, my darling—I wish I could!"</p> + +<p>"Why have you such gloomy thoughts? You are depressed; you have wanted +me. I shall soon make you well. I shall take you away from England to +some warm bright country where you will have nothing to do but be happy +and grow quite strong; and I will take care of you, and make up to you +if I can for everything that you have lost."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if one had not a conscience," said Hubert, with a faint sad smile, +"one could be very happy, could one not? But you forget; you told me +before that I must make amends. My darling, there is only one course +open to me now."</p> + +<p>"Hubert!" She knew by instinct what course he meant to take.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>"We are going to have the whole truth told now," he went on softly. "And +what a relief it will be! My God, I wonder that I could bear the burden +so long! For I have suffered, Cynthia, though not as your father has. I +am going now to tell the truth and bear the penalty; there is no other +way."</p> + +<p>"There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak +bravely. "It was a duel."</p> + +<p>"Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling +what the punishment will be; and public feeling will—very rightly—be +against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have +cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to +pieces if they can get hold of me!"</p> + +<p>"They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all +for your sister's sake——"</p> + +<p>"I want to save Flossy, Cynthia. I think I can shield her still."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that my father will shield her, Hubert. He knows."</p> + +<p>"She must be shielded, if possible, dear, for the old General's sake. +What a fool I was not to prevent that marriage! Well, it can't be helped +now. But one thing I can do—I can exonerate your father, and confess +that I shot Sydney Vane, without a word about my sister. That must be +so, Cynthia. And your father must be silent."</p> + +<p>"You will deprive yourself of your one excuse," said Cynthia quietly.</p> + +<p>"I know. I cannot help it. I must stand forth to the world as a brutal +murderer—as once your father did, my Cynthia. It is only right and +just. They must sentence me as they please. But it will not be for long; +I shall probably not come out of prison. But, if I do——"</p> + +<p>Cynthia burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear it—I can't bear it!" she cried. "My father is right—he +has got over the worst of it and outlived all that was hard. It would be +terrible for you! How could you bear it—and how could I?"</p> + +<p>"You could bear it if you thought it brought me happiness, could you +not? I know I am selfish, Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"No, no—you are anything but selfish! Oh, darling, live for me a little +if you will not for yourself! Father asks you to do that as well as I. +You will make us suffer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> if you suffer—and I cannot bear to part from +you again! If you love me, Hubert, say nothing—for my father's sake and +mine!"</p> + +<p>It was a strange plea. And while Hubert listened and strove to calm her, +there came a new and unwonted sound upon the stairs—the sound of a +struggle, of trampling feet, of angry voices—of a woman's shriek and a +man's stifled curse. Cynthia sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I hear my father's voice!" she said. "What can that mean?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There had been another visitor that afternoon to Hubert's lodgings in +Russell Square. Sabina Meldreth had presented herself at three o'clock, +and had inquired for Mrs. Vane. She was told that Mrs. Vane had gone +out, and was not likely to be back until six or half-past six o'clock.</p> + +<p>"And then the General's coming with her," Jenkins had informed her, "and +they're to dine together, because it is the first time that master has +stayed up to dinner since he was taken ill."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that'll do very well for me!" said Sabina sullenly. "I shall see +the whole lot of them then, I suppose. I'll wait!" and she planted +herself on one of the wooden chairs in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come down-stairs?" said Jenkins. "My missus is there."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't. I want to see Mrs. Vane; and perhaps she'll get away or +refuse to see me if I am down-stairs. Sitting here, she can't escape so +easy. I want Mrs. Vane."</p> + +<p>Jenkins shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have got a grudge against her," he observed. "Didn't she +pay you properly?"</p> + +<p>"No, she didn't—not that it's any business of yours," Sabina remarked.</p> + +<p>And, after that speech, Jenkins retired with dignity, feeling that it +was not his part to converse any longer with a woman who chose to be so +very impolite to him.</p> + +<p>"She looks very queer!" he observed to his wife down-stairs. "She's in +black, and her eyes are red as if she'd been crying, and her face as +white as death. I think she looks as if she was going out of her mind."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>Whereupon Mrs. Jenkins herself went up-stairs to inspect the dangerous +Sabina, but came down with the report that "she looked quiet enough." +And so the afternoon went on—and still Mrs. Vane did not arrive. But +Cynthia did.</p> + +<p>When Sabina heard Miss West's voice speaking to the maid at the door, +she gave a violent start. Then she rose and went cautiously into a +little room which opened off the hall, and stood behind the door, so +that Cynthia could not see her. As soon as Cynthia had gone up-stairs, +Sabina dashed out into the hall again, and inspected the square through +the pane of glass at the side of the hall door.</p> + +<p>"It's him sure enough," she said to herself, "and his daughter's gone +up-stairs! Well, they are bold as brass, the pair of them! They didn't +ought to be allowed to escape, I'm sure; but I don't know what to do. I +wish Mrs. Vane would come home, and the General too. They'd take care he +was nabbed fast enough! And here they come!"</p> + +<p>For at that moment Miss Vane's carriage drove up to the door, and out of +it came its owner, as well as Mrs. Vane and the General. Sabina opened +the door before the man had time to knock. And no sooner had Mrs. Vane +entered than she was confronted by Sabina.</p> + +<p>"What do you want here!" she asked.</p> + +<p>Sabina had, as Flossy expected, come with demands that would not perhaps +have been easy to satisfy; but all her plans were swept away by the +appearance of Westwood in the square. Sabina did not attempt to stand on +ceremony.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, ma'am, don't go up-stairs nor let them go just +yet!" she said hurriedly. "There's the man Westwood in the square—and +his daughter's just gone up to Mr. Lepel. I know him by sight perfectly. +If you want him to be arrested, ma'am, you could get it done now +easily."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said old Miss Vane, stepping back with her hand to her +ear. "Why are you looking so pale, Flossy? What's all this about?"</p> + +<p>Flossy looked at her husband and then looked at Sabina. She would have +given anything to stop Sabina's tongue. For the General had never yet +been made aware of one half of her man[oe]uvres, and she did not think +that he even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> knew that Westwood was alive. The whole thing would +probably excite him terribly; and there was a certain unsigned document +in the General's bureau at home about which Flossy was particularly +anxious. She had not wanted him to hear too much about Westwood's fate.</p> + +<p>But there was no help for it now. He came forward with his sister, +wanting to know what all the disturbance was about, and questioning +first one and then another in turn. Sabina was not voluble; but, acting +on a hint from Mrs. Vane, she did not at once say how she came to +recognise the man. The General flew into a rage, as Flossy had expected +him to do, and wanted to go out and lay hands himself on his brother's +murderer. With great difficulty his wife and sister persuaded him to +listen to reason. The footman was despatched for the police, and Jenkins +was deputed to accost the man and bring him to the house. In this last +piece of business Flossy took the lead. She had a notion that Jenkins +was in Cynthia's confidence, and would not do what was required of him +if he knew its purpose; and for that reason she coolly gave him a +message from Hubert and Cynthia. Neither the General nor Miss Vane heard +it, or perhaps they would not have allowed it to be sent; but it +certainly effected all that they desired. Quietly and unsuspiciously +Westwood came stepping across the square in Jenkins' wake; and just as +quietly was taken up the stairs and shown into a little sitting-room, +where it had been decreed that he should be delayed until the police +could arrive.</p> + +<p>But Westwood was not altogether at his ease. He was surprised to find +that neither Cynthia nor Lepel were there to meet him—surprised to find +himself left alone in a bare little room for five or ten minutes at the +very least. At last he tried the door. It was locked. And then the truth +flashed across his mind—he had been recognised—he had been entrapped. +Perhaps even Cynthia and Hubert Lepel were in the plot. They had perhaps +meant him to be caught and sent back to Portland, to die like a wild +beast in a cage.</p> + +<p>"There'll be murder done first!" said Westwood, looking round him for a +weapon. "Let's see which is the strongest—Hubert Lepel or me. And now +for the door! The window is too high."</p> + +<p>He had found a poker, and he dealt one crashing blow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> at the lock of the +door. It was not strong, and it yielded almost immediately. There was a +shriek from some one on the stairs—the rush of two men from the hall. +The General and a servant were instantly upon him, and, what was worse, +Cynthia's arms were around his neck, her hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Father, don't strike! You will kill somebody!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"And what do I care? Is it you that have given me up? Do you want me to +die like a rat in a hole?" the man cried, trying to shake her off.</p> + +<p>But the men were at his side—resistance was useless—the door at the +foot of the stairs had been barred, and there was no way of escape.</p> + +<p>"The police will be here directly—keep him till they come!" cried the +General at the top of his voice. "I shall give him in charge! He is the +murderer Westwood, the man who killed my bother, Sydney Vane, and +afterwards escaped from Portland Prison, where he was undergoing a life +sentence! I remember the man perfectly. Sabina Meldreth, you can +identify him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can identify him!" said Sabina curtly. "He's Miss West's +father, anyway—and we all know who that was. We heard her call him +'father' just now her very self."</p> + +<p>The servants tightened their grasp on the man's arm. But at that moment +an interruption occurred. The drawing-room door was flung open, and +Hubert Lepel, ghastly pale, and staggering a little as he moved, +appeared upon the scene.</p> + +<p>"This must go no further," he said. "Keep the police away, and let this +man go. He is not Sydney Vane's murderer."</p> + +<p>"Don't interfere, sir!" shouted the General from the stairs. "This is +Westwood, the man who escaped from Portland—and back to Portland he +shall go!"</p> + +<p>"It is Westwood, I know," said Herbert, supporting himself against the +door-post, and looking down calmly upon the excited group below; "but +Westwood was not a murderer. General, you have been mistaken all this +time. I wish to make a statement of the truth—it was I who killed +Sydney Vane! Now do what you like!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + + +<p>A sudden hush fell upon the group. Each looked at the others aghast. The +general opinion was that Mr. Lepel's fever had returned upon him and +that he was raving. But at least three persons knew or suspected that he +spoke only the truth.</p> + +<p>"He's mad—delirious!" said the General angrily. "Take him back to his +room, some of you, and help me to secure the criminal!"</p> + +<p>"You had better come here and listen to my story first," said Hubert, +still clutching at the door to steady himself. "Keep the police +down-stairs for five minutes, General, if you please. Neither Westwood +nor I shall escape in that time. Jenkins, drop that gentleman's arm!"</p> + +<p>Jenkins relinquished his hold of Westwood's arm with great promptitude. +Cynthia said a few words to him in an undertone which sent him +down-stairs at once. She had heard the front door open and shut, and +believed that the police had come. They, at least, could be detained for +a few minutes—she had no hope of anything more; but she felt that +Hubert's confession should be made to his own relatives first of all. +She ran to his side and gave him her arm to lean upon, conducting him +back to the drawing-room; and thither the others followed her in much +agitation and perturbation of mind. The General was almost foaming at +the mouth with rage; Miss Vane looked utterly blank and stupefied; +Flossy's face was white as snow; Sabina watched the scene with stolid +and sullen curiosity; while Westwood marched into the drawing-room with +the air of a proud man unjustly assailed.</p> + +<p>They found Hubert leaning against the mantelpiece. He would not sit +down; but he was not strong enough to stand without support. Cynthia was +clinging to him with her face half hidden on his shoulder; his arm was +clasped about her waist.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" said the General.</p> + +<p>"It means," answered Flossy's quiet voice, "that Hubert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> is raving, and +that the doctor must be sent for immediately."</p> + +<p>"You know better than that, Florence," said her brother. "I speak the +truth, and nothing but the truth. I accuse no one else," he said, with +marked emphasis; "but I wish you all now to know what were the facts. It +was I who met Sydney Vane that day in the fir plantation beside the road +that leads up the hill to Beechfield. We quarrelled, and we agreed to +settle the matter by a duel. We were unequally matched. He had a +revolver and I had this man Westwood's gun, which I found on the ground. +We fired, and Sydney fell."</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence. Then a bitter cry escaped from Miss Vane's +lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hubert, Hubert," she wailed, "can this be true?"</p> + +<p>"God knows that it is true!" answered Hubert; and his face carried +conviction if his words did not.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible!" cried the General. "To begin with, if you had +committed this crime—for a duel in the way you mention was a crime and +nothing else—you would never have allowed this man to suffer for it. I +absolutely refuse to believe, sir, that my kinsman is such a base, +cowardly villain! This is a fit of delirium—nothing else!"</p> + +<p>"It is simple truth," said Hubert sadly. "That I did not at once +exonerate Andrew Westwood is, to my thinking, the worst part of my +crime. I acknowledge that I—I dared not confess; and I left him to bear +the blame."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, sir, do you tell me that to my face?" thundered the old +man, with uplifted hand. "You are a disgrace to the family! I am glad +that you do not bear my name."</p> + +<p>He would perhaps even have struck the younger man if Cynthia had not +twined her arms more closely round Hubert's neck, and made herself for +the moment a defence to him. But Hubert drew himself away.</p> + +<p>"Let me go, Cynthia," he said quietly. "You must not come between us. +The General is right, and I am a disgrace to my name. He must do what he +thinks fit."</p> + +<p>But the General had turned away, and was walking furiously up and down +the room, too angry and too much overcome for speech. Miss Vane was +sobbing bitterly. Flossy watched her brother's face. She saw that he +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> trying not to implicate her. Would she escape? If his silence and +her own could save her, she would be safe. But she had reckoned without +Andrew Westwood.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Cynthia's father, addressing himself to the +General; "but this ain't fair! Mr. Lepel is getting more of the blame +than he deserves. Suppose you let me speak a word for him?"</p> + +<p>"You!" said the General, stopping short. "You, who have suffered his +punishment, cannot have much to say for him! If—if this is true," he +went on, with a curious mixture of stiffness and of shame, "we have much +to answer for with respect to you—much to make up——"</p> + +<p>"Not so much as maybe you think," said Andrew Westwood. "I was bitter +enough at the time, and I have thought often and often of the words that +I said at the trial—how I cursed the man that brought me to that pass +and all that he held dear. Curses come home to roost, they say. At any +rate, the person who is dearest to him, I believe, is my very own +daughter, whom I myself love better that any one in the whole wide +world; and far be it from me to wish evil to her or to any one that she +loves."</p> + +<p>Miss Vane's handkerchief fell to her lap. The General stared at the +speaker open-mouthed. The man's native nobility of soul amazed them +both. Andrew Westwood went on soberly.</p> + +<p>"You have not asked Mr. Lepel how he came to fight Mr. Vane, sir. You +might be sure that it wasn't for a poor reason; and there was never +anything considered dishonorable in a fair fight between two armed men."</p> + +<p>"That does not do away with the injury to yourself," said the General +grimly. "Such blame as there was ought to have been borne by him and not +by you."</p> + +<p>Westwood waved his hand.</p> + +<p>"As for injury," he said, "me and Cynthia have agreed to forget about +that. If I'd been at Portland all this time, why, then no doubt I should +feel it worse. But I got away after four years of it, and made my way to +America, and 'struck ile' there. I've done better since then than, ever +I did in my life before; so I have no need to complain. But you haven't +asked him why he fought Mr. Vane, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, why was it?" said the General sternly and grudgingly.</p> + +<p>He did not see that his wife suddenly rose from her seat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> and with +clasped hands darted a look full of miserable fear and entreaty towards +her brother. But all the others saw, though some of them did not +understand; and Hubert responded to the appeal.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," he answered, with his eyes on the ground.</p> + +<p>"But I can!" said Westwood. "And Mrs. Vane could, if she chose! Blame +her if you like, sir, for she's known the truth all along as much as Mr. +Hubert's done; and it was to save her that he would not open his lips."</p> + +<p>They had tried in vain to stop him—Hubert by angry imperative words, +Flossy by a piteous cry of terror; but Westwood's rough sonorous voice +rose above all other sounds. He paused for a moment, looking at the +General's face of incredulous dismay, at Mrs. Vane's shrinking figure, +and his tones softened a little as he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to say more myself than is necessary. Miss Lepel as she +was then and Mr. Sydney Vane were in the habit of meeting each other in +the wood. Many of the village people knew it—it was common talk in +Beechfield. Mr. Lepel found it out and was angry. He told Mr. Vane there +must be no more of it; and then the quarrel followed that Mr. Lepel +speaks about. I don't want to make too much of it"—casting a reluctant +glance at Hubert—"but I think that Mr. Lepel was right in objecting and +in trying to put a stop to it."</p> + +<p>It was certain that he had very much softened the facts of the case; but +the General could not have looked more confounded, or Flossy more +overwhelmed, if a great deal more had been said. The veins swelled upon +the old man's forehead, his face grew lividly purple as he strode over +to his wife's side and laid his hand heavily on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Florence, is this true?" he said.</p> + +<p>She sat mute and shrinking in her chair, crushed as if beneath an +invisible weight—her hands clasped, her white face averted. Miss Vane, +watching her eagerly, felt with a thrill of horror that she looked like +a guilty woman.</p> + +<p>"Is this true?" the General asked again, giving her a little shake. But +Flossy still sat mute.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Vane interposed.</p> + +<p>"Let her alone, Richard," she said. "She is overcome—she cannot answer +just now. She will explain everything by-and-by."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>"Speak!" cried the General, his eyes blazing with rage. He would have +shaken her again and more violently if Hubert had not interfered.</p> + +<p>"You forget, sir, that she is a woman and that she is your wife," he +said. "Whatever may have happened in the past, she has no doubt +regretted what was an imprudence. I was to blame for taking up the +matter too seriously. You know what your brother was; I know my sister. +We must judge them by what we know."</p> + +<p>The words were halting and ambiguous; but they produced some effect. The +General fell back, still gazing at his wife; and Flossy, released from +the pressure of his heavy hand, sat up and looked about her with a +strange red light glowing in her eyes. Then, to everybody's horror, she +burst into a fit of wild laughter terrible to hear.</p> + +<p>"He says that he knows his sister!" she cried. "Oh, yes—he knows her +well enough! What maudlin stuff will he talk next? 'Imprudence' in +meeting each other in the wood! I tell you that Sydney Vane loved +me—that he was ready to abandon wife and child for me!"</p> + +<p>"Florence, have mercy! Stop—stop!" cried Hubert. But his sister would +not stop.</p> + +<p>"He was ready to go to the world's end with me, I tell you! We had +arranged to start the next day—we were going to Ceylon, never to come +back again. We meant to be happy because we loved each other. That was +what Hubert found out!" she cried, laughing wildly. "That was what he +tried to stop! That was why he killed Sydney Vane—the man I loved—oh, +Heaven, the man for whom I would have sold my very soul!"</p> + +<p>And then the hysteric passion overcame her, and she fell back in a +frenzy of laughter, sobs, and screams, painful alike to see and hear. +Cynthia, Miss Vane, and Sabina went to her aid. Between them they +carried her into another room, whence her terrible screams resounded at +intervals through the house; and the three men were left alone. The +General sank down upon a chair near the table and hid his face in his +hands. He was breathing heavily, and every now and then a moan escaped +him in the silence of the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Heaven," he said, "what have I done that this should come upon me +all at once? What have I done?"</p> + +<p>Hubert, exhausted by the excitement that he had gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> through, staggered +to the sofa and threw himself down upon it. Westwood remained in his +former position, grasping the back of a chair and looking from one to +the other, as if he were anxious to help, but knew not how to offer any +assistance. In the silence that prevailed, the sound of heavy footsteps +could be distinctly heard upon the stairs. The police had arrived at +last.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately Cynthia and Sabina Meldreth returned to the room. +They had left Miss Vane with Florence, who seemed more manageable when +her aunt touched her and spoke to her than with anybody else. And, as +soon as they came in, Cynthia went up to Hubert, kissed him, and sat +down beside him, holding her hand in his. But Sabina Meldreth looked +fixedly at the General.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on, sir!" she said, going up to the table and speaking +rather softly. "She ain't worth it—she's a reg'lar bad 'un, she is!"</p> + +<p>"Woman, how dare you!" cried the poor General, starting from his seat, +and turning his discolored face, his bloodshot eyes, angrily upon the +intruder. "I do not believe a word—a word you say! My wife is—is above +reproach—my wife—the mother of my boy!" There was a curious little +hitch in his speech, as if he could not say the words he wanted to say.</p> + +<p>"The mother of your boy!" cried Sabina, with intense scorn. "Much mother +she was to him! Look here, sir! I'll own the truth now, and perhaps it +will soften things a bit to you. The boy was not Mrs. Vane's at all—he +was mine."</p> + +<p>Everyone started. The General uttered an inarticulate cry of rage; then +his head dropped on his hands, and he did not speak again. In vain +Hubert tried to silence the speaker.</p> + +<p>"Keep your story for another time," he said. "There is no need to make +such accusations now. You cannot substantiate them, and you are only +paining General Vane."</p> + +<p>"You'd better ask Miss Enid, sir," said the woman half defiantly, half +desperately. "She knows. It troubled her a good bit as to whether she +ought to tell the General or not; but I believe she decided not. Mrs. +Vane thought that if she married you you would keep her quiet. My mother +confessed it all to Miss Enid on her death-bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> I expect the Rector +knows too by this time. He was always trying to get it out of me."</p> + +<p>"Can this be true?" said Hubert, half to himself and half to the +General. But the old man, with his head bowed upon the table, did not +seem to hear.</p> + +<p>"It's true as Gospel!" said Sabina. "And I don't much care who knows it +now. My prospects are all gone, as far as I can make out. This gentleman +here is not the murderer, it seems, and so I sha'n't get the three +hundred pounds for finding him; and Mrs. Vane's payments will be stopped +now, no doubt. She was giving me two hundred a year. I'll take less if +you like to give me something, sir, for going away and holding my +tongue. When Mrs. Vane knew about—about me, and mother was in trouble +over my misfortune, it was just at the time when your own little baby +was born, sir. It was a boy too, and it died when it was only twelve +hours old. And Mrs. Vane spoke to mother about my baby that was just the +same age; and mother and I both thought it would be a good thing if my +little boy could be made the heir of Beechfield Hall. For in that way +Mrs. Vane's position would be better, and she would be able to pay +mother and me a good round sum. And so we settled it. But now poor +little Dick's dead and gone, and all Mrs. Vane's schemes have come to +naught. Mother always said that there would be a bad ending to the +affair."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have forgotten, young woman," said Andrew Westwood sternly, +"that there is a God above us all who takes care of the innocent and +punishes the guilty."</p> + +<p>"I'd not forgotten it," said Sabina, confronting him with an unabashed +air; "but I hadn't believed it till now."</p> + +<p>At that moment an inspector in plain clothes, who had been hastily +fetched from Scotland Yard, made his way into the room and inquired what +he was wanted for.</p> + +<p>"We shall both have to go with you, I think," said Hubert firmly, +glancing at Westwood as he rose. "I presume that you cannot liberate Mr. +Westwood at once."</p> + +<p>"What—Westwood the convict? I should think not!" said the inspector +briskly; and he made a sign to his men, who stepped forward with a pair +of handcuffs.</p> + +<p>"I shall come quietly enough," said Westwood, with a smile. "You needn't +trouble yourself about the bracelets."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I dare say!" said the inspector. "You've been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> rather a slippery +customer hitherto, I believe. We'll make sure of you now."</p> + +<p>But Hubert interfered.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said—"Westwood is innocent! It was I—I who committed the +crime for which he was condemned. Put the handcuffs on me, if on any +one, but not on that innocent man!"</p> + +<p>"Well, this is a rum start!" said the inspector to himself. "You don't +look very fit to run away, sir; we won't trouble you," he said to Hubert +with a friendly smile. "Head wrong, I suppose?" he asked of Cynthia, in +a stage-aside.</p> + +<p>They had some trouble in convincing him that Hubert meant to be taken to +the station with Westwood; and, even when he had heard the story, it was +plain that he did not quite believe it. However, he consented to let +Hubert accompany him and then he remarked that, as it was getting late, +it would be better if his companions started at once.</p> + +<p>"And the old gentleman?" he said, looking at the General with interest. +"Is he coming too?"</p> + +<p>Hubert hesitated. Then he went up to the old man and touched him gently +on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Will you not look at me, sir?" he said. "Have you nothing to say to me +before I go?"</p> + +<p>No, he had nothing to say; he would never say anything again. The +General was dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + + +<p>The proceedings relating to Westwood's trial and Hubert Lepel's +confession naturally excited great interest. The whole matter had to be +investigated once more; and it could not be denied that a howl of +indignation at Hubert's conduct went up through the length and breadth +of the land. Even Flossy's indiscretions—to call them by no harsher +name—were not held to excuse him for suppressing the fact that he had +taken Sydney Vane's life, and then allowed Andrew Westwood to suffer the +penalty of a crime which he had not committed. The details that came out +one after another whetted the public appetite to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> an incredible extent. +And in such a case it soon became evident that no details could be +suppressed at all. Even the fact of the attachment between Hubert and +Cynthia leaked out, although everybody tried hard to keep it a secret; +and great was the wonder excited by Cynthia's steady refusal to give up +the lover who had nearly caused her father's death.</p> + +<p>"She must be a heartless creature indeed!" the busybodies said. "Who +ever heard of such a revolting position? Has her father cast her off? +What a grief it must be to him! It is like a terrible old Greek +tragedy!"</p> + +<p>And, when the busybodies heard that Westwood had not objected to his +child's marriage with Hubert Lepel, and had actually appeared to be +friendly with him, they concluded that all parties concerned must be +equally devoid of the finer qualities of human nature, and that a +painful revelation of baseness and secret vice had just been made.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of public indignation, it was not possible for Hubert +Lepel to receive very severe punishment from the arm of the law. He had +never been examined at Westwood's trial—and the law does not compel a +man to inculpate himself. He was held to have committed manslaughter, +and he was condemned to two years' imprisonment. And Westwood received a +"free pardon" from the Queen—which Cynthia thought a very inadequate +way of testifying to his innocence; and he walked through London streets +a free man once more, and might have been made into a hero had he +chosen, especially when it became known that he was very well off, and +that he had a daughter so beautiful and gifted as the young lady who had +previously been known to the general public as Cynthia West.</p> + +<p>Cynthia was entreated to sing again and again, and was assured that +people would flock to hear her and to see her more than ever. But she +steadily refused to sing in any public place. She could not overcome the +feeling that her audience only came to stare at her as Westwood's +daughter, and not to hear her sing. She withdrew therefore from the +musical profession, and lived a quiet life in London with her father, +who had postponed his departure for a few weeks. He would not return to +America until the close of Hubert Lepel's trial.</p> + +<p>The General's sad death, caused chiefly by excitement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> was felt, when +the shock was passed, to be almost a relief for his friends. They all +felt that it would have been sad indeed if the old man had lived to see +himself desolate, his name dragged through the mud, his wife branded +with shame, the boy that he had loved not only laid in the grave, but +known to be no kin to him at all. He could not have borne it; his life +would have been a misery to him; and it was perhaps well that he should +die. His will had been unsigned, and the property therefore passed to +Enid, with the usual "half" to his widow.</p> + +<p>Flossy found herself better off than she had expected to be. She never +seemed to regret her actions, not even the hysterical outburst which had +caused her to confess her guilt and to hasten the General's end. She +declared herself relieved that she had now nothing to conceal. As for +the execration that she met with from all who knew her story, she cared +very little indeed. She refused to see her old acquaintances, and went +abroad as soon as possible. Her lawyer alone knew her address—for she +did not correspond with her English friends; but she was occasionally +heard of at a foreign watering-place, where she posed as an interesting +widow completely misunderstood by a sadly prejudiced world. In time she +married again, and it was said that her husband, a Russian nobleman, +ill-treated-her; but Flossy was quite capable of holding her own against +any number of Russia noblemen, and it was more likely that he suffered +at her hands than she at his. In the wild Northern lands however she +finally made her home; and she announced to her lawyer her determination +never to set foot in England again. A traveller who afterwards came +across her in Russian reported to her relatives that she was looking +haggard and worn, that she was said to take chloral regularly, and that +she suffered from some obscure disease of the nerves for which no doctor +could find a cure. And thus she passed out of the lives of her English +friends—unloved, unmourned, unhappy, and, in spite of wealth and title, +unsuccessful in all that she tried to attain.</p> + +<p>Enid, the owner of Beechfield Hall, took a dislike to the place, and +would not live in it for many a long day. She remained with Miss Vane +until a year had passed after the General's death, and then she married +Mr. Evandale and took up her abode at the Rectory. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> made an ideal +parson's wife. Her health had grown stronger in the quiet atmosphere of +Miss Vane's home; and, curiously enough, she never had another of her +strange "seizures" after her departure from Beechfield Hall. She herself +always believed that she had conquered them by an effort of will; but +Mr. Evandale was disposed to think that she had been occasionally put +under the influence of some drug by Mrs. Vane, and that Mrs. Vane had +either wished to remove her altogether from her path or undermine her +health and intellect completely. At a later date she had grown tired of +this method, and tried to take a quicker way; but in this attempt she +had been foiled. Parker remained in Enid's service, and made a faithful +nurse, devoted to her mistress and her mistress's children, and above +all devoted to her master, who had spoken to her gently of her past, and +given her new hope for the future.</p> + +<p>And, when the little Evandales began to overflow the Rectory nurseries, +Enid managed to conquer her distaste for the stately old Hall that had +stood empty for so many years, and came thither with her family to fill +the vacant rooms with merry faces, and to chase away all ghosts of a +tragic past by the sound of eager voices, of laughter, and of pattering +feet. And then a deeper love for the old home, now grown so beautiful +and dear, stirred within her; and in time she even marvelled at herself +that she had stayed away so long from Beechfield Hall.</p> + +<p>Sabina Meldreth developed in a curious direction. The Rector "got hold +of her," as he expressed it, and managed to lay his finger on the soft +spot in her heart. It proved to be a remorseful love for delicate +children; and this trait of character became her salvation. She never +talked of the past or said that she repented; but she gave herself +little by little, with strange steadfastness and thoroughness, to the +service of sick children in hospitals. She went through a nurse's +training, and got an engagement as nurse in the Great Ormond Street +Hospital for Children. Here she seemed happy; and the children loved +her—which some people thought odd, because she preserved a good deal of +her roughness of manner and abruptness of speech in ordinary life. But +she was made of finer fibre than one would have imagined, and children +never found her harsh or unkind or unsympathetic. The memory of little +Dick remained with her perhaps, but she never spoke of him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>During the months of Hubert's imprisonment Cynthia did not correspond +with him. He had asked her not to do so. Her letters would of course +have been overlooked. All that she could do until the trial was over was +to send him flowers, which he was permitted to receive; and very dear +those boxes of rare blossoms soon became to him. He spent a great part +of his time in the infirmary; for his strength had been very much tried +during the time of his convalescence, and it often seemed as if his +anticipations were to be realised, and as if his term of punishment +would not last very long. Cynthia had made him promise that she should +be summoned to his side if he were absolutely in danger. For many a week +she used to be half afraid to look at her letters in the morning, lest +the dread summons should be amongst them; but, after a time, her courage +began to revive, and she dared—yes, she actually dared—to hope for a +brighter future. But, when the term of his imprisonment began, she knew +that she must wait patiently for its end before the cloud of darkness +was lifted from her life.</p> + +<p>"It's about time we was getting back to the States, I reckon," her +father said to her one day.</p> + +<p>"So soon, father?"</p> + +<p>"What should we stay in England for?" he asked, without glancing at her. +"I want to get back to my work; and I want to show you the place, and +see about the new house."</p> + +<p>For at times he drew glowing pictures of the house that he intended to +build for Cynthia some day. Cynthia used to smile and listen very +sweetly. She never contradicted him; she only grew a little abstracted +now and then when he waxed very eloquent, and drew the needle a little +faster through the work that she now affected. He did not usually seem +to notice her silence; but on this occasion he broke out rather +petulantly.</p> + +<p>"One would think you took no interest in it at all! You might sometimes +remember that it's all for you."</p> + +<p>"I do remember it, father dear—and I am very grateful."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Westwood, at once restored to cheerfulness, "just you +look here at these plans. I've been talking to an architect, and this is +the drawing he's made for me. Nice mansion that, isn't it? You see,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> +there's the ground-floor—a study for me, and a drawing-room and a +morning-room, and all sorts of things for you; and here's a wing which +can be added on or not, as is required. Because," he went on rather +quickly and nervously, "if you was to marry out there, you could set up +house-keeping with him, you know; and, when the family grew too large +for the house, we could just add room after room—here, you see—until +we had enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father." And then Cynthia added with simplicity, which was perhaps +a little assumed. "Miss Enid Vane says that Hubert will be ordered to +the Riviera for the winter when—when he is free."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?" said Westwood, rolling up his plans and +moving a few steps away from her.</p> + +<p>"Only that perhaps we had better not think too much about the house, +father. We might not be able to come to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it, is it?" her father said slowly. "You're still thinking +of Mr. Lepel, Cynthia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father dear."</p> + +<p>"You mean to marry the man that would have seen me hang and never said a +word to save me?"</p> + +<p>"He would not have done that, you know, father. He spoke out at last, in +order to save you from being rearrested. And you gave me your consent +before——"</p> + +<p>"Ay, before I knew that he had done the deed! I thought that his sister +had done it, and that he was keeping her secret, when I gave my consent, +my girl. It makes a deal of difference."</p> + +<p>"Not to me," said Cynthia quietly. "He did wrong; but I learned to love +him before I knew the story; and I can't leave off loving him now."</p> + +<p>Westwood sat down and began rapping the table with his roll of plans in +a meditative manner.</p> + +<p>"Women are curious folk," he said at last. "When a man's prosperous, +they nag at him and make his life a weariness to him; but, when he's in +trouble, they can't be too faithful nor too fond. It's awkward +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"But it's their nature, you see, father," said Cynthia, smiling a little +as she folded up her work.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is. And I suppose—being one of them—it's nothing to you +that this man's name has been cried high and low throughout the British +Empire as a monster of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> iniquity, a base cowardly villain, so afraid of +being found out that he nearly let another man swing for him—that's +nothing to you, eh?"</p> + +<p>Cynthia's cheeks burned.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing to me because it is not true," she said. "I know the +world says so; but the world is wrong. He is not cowardly—he is not +base; he has a noble heart. And when he did wrong it was for his +sister's sake and to save her from punishment—not for his own. Oh, +father, you never spoke so hardly of him before!"</p> + +<p>"I am only repeating what the world says," replied Westwood stolidly. "I +am not stating my own private opinion. What the world says is a very +important thing, Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for what it says!" cried Cynthia impatiently.</p> + +<p>"But I care—not for myself, but for you. And we've got to pay some +attention to it—you and I and the man you marry, whoever he may be."</p> + +<p>"It will be Hubert Lepel or nobody, father."</p> + +<p>"It may be Hubert; but it won't be Hubert Lepel with my consent. He has +no call to be very proud of his name that I can see. Look here, Cynthia! +When he comes out, you can tell him this from me—he may marry you if +he'll take the name of 'Westwood' and give up that of 'Lepel'. Many a +man does that, I'm told, when he comes into a fortune. Well, you're a +fortune in yourself, besides what I've got to leave you. If he won't do +that, he won't do much for you."</p> + +<p>"I am not ashamed of his name," said Cynthia, with a little tremor in +her voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not; but I'd rather it was so. I don't think I'm +unreasonable, my dear. 'Lepel' isn't a common name, and it's too well +known. As 'Mrs. Hubert Westwood' you will escape remark much more easily +than as 'Mrs. Hubert Lepel.' I don't think it is too much to ask; and +it's the one condition I make before I give my consent to his marrying +you."</p> + +<p>"I will tell him, father. Perhaps he will not mind."</p> + +<p>"If he minds, he won't be worthy of you—that's all I've got to say," +said Westwood, rising to his feet and preparing to leave the room.</p> + +<p>But Cynthia intercepted him:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>"Father, if he consents, you will forgive him, will you not?" she said +putting her hands on his shoulder and looking anxiously into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Forgive him, my dear? Well, I suppose I have done that, or I shouldn't +say that he might marry you at all."</p> + +<p>"And you will forget the past, and love him a little for my sake?"</p> + +<p>"I'm bound to love the people you love, Cynthy," said the old man +stooping to kiss the beautiful face, and patting her cheek with his roll +of plans; "and I don't think you've got any call to feel afraid."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + + +<p>The newspapers had cried out that Hubert Lepel's two years were a +miserably insufficient punishment for the crime of which he had been +guilty; but to Cynthia it seemed as if those two years were an eternity. +She did not talk about him to any one; she interested herself apparently +in the affairs of her father's house; she made a thousand occupations +for herself in the new land to which she had gone. Occasionally she had +a letter—which she dearly prized—from Enid Vane, and in these letters +she heard a little now and then about Hubert; but, after Enid's +marriage, the letters became less frequent, and at last ceased +altogether. And then she knew that the two years were over, and that +Hubert must be free.</p> + +<p>Free—or dead! She sometimes had a keen darting fear that she would +never see his face again. His health had suffered very much in +confinement, she had learnt from Enid's letters; and she knew that he +had seemed very weak and ill during those terrible days of his trial for +manslaughter. She could never think of them without a shiver. How had +the two years ended for him? Was he a wreck, without hope without +energy, without strength, coming out of prison only to die? Cynthia +brooded over these possibilities until sleep fled from her eyes and the +color from her cheeks. Her father looked at her now and then with +anxious, grieving eyes; but he did not say a word. She noticed however +that he greatly advocated the good qualities of a fine young Scotchman +called MacPhail, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> had lately settled on an estate in the +neighborhood, and had shown a great inclination for Cynthia's society. +Westwood was never tired of praising his good looks, his manly ways, his +abilities, and his intelligence, and of calculating openly, in his +daughter's hearing, the amount of wealth of which he was sure MacPhail +was possessed. Cynthia grew impatient of these praises before long.</p> + +<p>"Dear father," she said, taking his grizzled head between her hands one +day and kissing it, "I like your Mr. MacPhail very well; but I shall get +tired of him very soon if you are always praising him so much."</p> + +<p>"But you do like him, Cynthy?" said her father, turning round hastily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—I think that he is a very estimable young man! I know all his +good points by heart; but I can't say that I find him interesting."</p> + +<p>"Interesting?" echoed Westwood. "What do you mean, Cynthy? Isn't he +clever enough for you?"</p> + +<p>"He is clever enough for anybody, no doubt," said Cynthia, with a little +laugh. "But he never reads, he never thinks—except about his stock—and +he isn't even a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Neither am I, Cynthia, my dear," said her father sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"You, you darling old man," said the girl lightly—"as if you were not +one of Nature's gentlemen, and the dearest and noblest of men to boot! +If he were like you, father, I should think twice as much of him;" and +she put her arm round his neck and kissed him.</p> + +<p>Westwood's face beamed.</p> + +<p>"You're not ashamed of your old father?" he said delightedly. "Bless +you, my girl! What I shall do when the time comes for me to lose you, +I'm sure I don't know!"</p> + +<p>"You are not likely to lose me father. I shall probably stay with you +always," said Cynthia rather sadly. But she brightened up when she saw +his questioning face. "You and I shall always keep house together, shall +we not?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, Cynthia," said he, detaining her as she was about to +move away, "that we might take MacPhail into partnership some of these +days?"</p> + +<p>"Partnership?" she repeated, not seeing his drift at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> first. "What do +you want with a partner, father? Is there too much for you to do? Or +haven't you enough capital? Why should you want a partner?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't a partner for myself that I'm talking about, my pretty. I want +a son—and the partner would be for you. In plain words, Donald MacPhail +is head over ears in love with you Cynthia. Couldn't you bring yourself +to look upon him as your husband, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"No, I could not," said Cynthia quickly and decisively. "There is only +one man whom I could think of—and you know who that one is. If I do not +marry him, I will marry nobody at all."</p> + +<p>Westwood sighed and looked dispirited, but said no more.</p> + +<p>Cynthia exerted herself to be particularly frigid to Mr. MacPhail when +he next visited the house, and succeeded so well that the young +Scotchman was utterly dismayed by her demeanor, and was not seen there +again for many a long day.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacPhail was not the only suitor that Cynthia had to send about his +business. She was too handsome, too winning, to escape remark in a place +where attractive women were rather rare. Her father used afterwards to +observe, with a chuckle of delight, that she had had an offer from every +eligible young man—and from some that were not eligible—within a +circuit of sixty miles around his homestead; but Cynthia did not +altogether like the recollection.</p> + +<p>They did not often see English newspapers; but at this time Westwood +took to poring over any that he could obtain from neighbors or from the +nearest town. One day Cynthia saw that a copy of the <i>Standard</i> was +lying in a very conspicuous position on her writing-table. She took it +up and read the announcement of the death at her own house of Leonora +Vane, aged sixty-nine. She wondered a little that Enid had not written +to tell her of Miss Vane's death; and then the tears fell slowly from +her eyes, as she considered how completely she was now cut off from the +Vanes and all their concerns—as completely as if she herself had +"passed to where beyond these voices there is peace." The old life was +over; she had come to a new world where all her duties lay; and the +past, with its vigorous life, its passionate emotions, its intense joys, +its bitter pains, existed for her no more.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>And yet she could not forget it; absorb herself as she would in +household cares, busy herself as she would with her father's +requirements and the needs of her poorer neighbors—and for these +Cynthia was a centre of all that was beneficent and beautiful—moments +would come when the present seemed to her like a dream and the past the +only reality. When had she lived so fully as when she knew from Hubert's +lips the meaning of his love for her—of her love for him? Life would be +dull and gray indeed if it contained no memory of those exquisite, +passionate moments! For these, the rest of her existence was a mere +setting; and for these she knew well enough that she was glad that she +had lived.</p> + +<p>Thus she sat thinking, with her cheek upon her hand and the tears wet +upon her long dark lashes; and she did not hear the footsteps of any one +approaching until her father touched her on the shoulder and said—</p> + +<p>"Cynthy, here's visitors!"</p> + +<p>Then she looked up. At first she saw only the ruddy, face and reddish +hair of the admirable MacPhail, and she rose to her feet with an +impatient little sigh. After MacPhail came another neighbor—a tall thin +man with a military bearing, generally known as "the Colonel," though it +was not clear that he had ever held any rank in the army. And after +these two a stranger followed—also a tall man, thin, dark, grave, with +eyes that seemed to Cynthia like those of one who had returned from +beyond the grave.</p> + +<p>A start like a sort of electric shock ran through Cynthia's frame. It +was impossible for her to speak, to do more than extend her hand in +silence to each of the new-comers. And then she looked once more upon +her lover's face—upon the face of Hubert Lepel. In the presence of her +father and the two comparative strangers, she could not even utter a +word of greeting. Her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and she +dared not even raise her eyes.</p> + +<p>Hubert seemed at first as tongue-tied as herself; but presently, she +heard him talking in a quiet unobtrusive way, as if he and "the Colonel" +were old friends; and it transpired that the two had met during Hubert's +previous wanderings in America, and that they had seen a good deal of +the world together.</p> + +<p>Before long, all four men were busily engaged on a com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>parison of +America and England and in a discussion on contemporary politics, and +Cynthia was able to devote herself to household duties and the +entertainment of her guests. Hubert was staying in Colonel Morton's +house, she found, and they had met Mr. Westwood and MacPhail when they +were having a long tramp over the hills; and, strangely enough, Westwood +had immediately asked both men to dinner.</p> + +<p>It was not until the meal was over and the men had gone out to smoke in +the pleasant piazza, with its clustering vines which adorned the front +of Westwood's house, that Cynthia had a moment in which to compare her +present impressions with her past. It struck her that Hubert looked +older, as well as graver and sadder, and perhaps more dignified. His +hair was turning gray and thin at the temples; his moustache was also +streaked with white—bleached, as Cynthia knew, by trouble, not by age. +He was thin, but he looked stronger than when she saw him last; and his +gait was firm and elastic. His face was slightly tanned—probably by the +sun and sea-air in his recent expedition from England—and the brown hue +gave him a look of health and vigor which he had not possessed in +England. But the change in his expression was more striking to Cynthia +than any alteration in physical aspect. His eyes had lost their anxious +restlessness, his mouth was set as if in steadfast resolution; his brow +was calm. He looked like a man who had gone "through much tribulation," +but had come out victor at the last.</p> + +<p>And Cynthia—was she changed? He had thought so when he came upon her +that afternoon; but his heart had yearned over her all the more fondly +for the change. He had never seen her so thin, so pale, so worn; the +dark eyes had not been set in such hollows of shadow when he last saw +her; the cheeks had never before been so colorless. He felt that she had +suffered for him—that she had borne his punishment with himself; and +the thought made it difficult for him to restrain himself from falling +at her feet and kissing the very hem of her garment as he looked at her. +But at dinner she looked more like her old beautiful self. She was in +black when he arrived; but she came to dinner in a pretty gown of +cream-colored embroidered muslin, with a bunch of crimson flowers at her +bosom. The color had come back to her cheeks too, and the light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> to her +eyes—he saw that, though he could not get her to look at him.</p> + +<p>Cynthia sat in the window, not daring to join the party on the +piazza—hoping perhaps that one of them would separate himself from the +others and come to her. Hubert was walking with her father now—up and +down, up and down, deep in talk. Was it merely talk of politics and +farming and common things?</p> + +<p>She saw them withdraw to a corner of the piazza where they could +converse unheard by their companions. Westwood was smoking; but his +speech was fluent, Cynthia could see; he was laying down the law, +emphasising his sentences by an outstretched finger, blowing great rings +of smoke into the air between some of his remarks. Hubert listened and +seemed to assent. His head was bowed, his arms were folded across his +chest; he looked—Cynthia could not help the thought—like a prisoner +receiving sentence, a penitent before his judge. Westwood turned to him +at last, as if awaiting an answer—the moonlight was on his face, and +showed it to be grave and anxious, but unmistakably kind. Hubert raised +his head and made some answer; and then—Cynthia's heart began to beat +very fast indeed—her father held out his hand. The two men grasped each +other's hands warmly and silently for a moment, then both turned away. +Westwood took out a great red handkerchief and blew his nose vehemently; +Hubert leaned for a moment against the balustrade and put his hand +across his eyes. Cynthia's own eyes swam in sympathetic tears as she +strove to imagine what had been said. In that moment her love for Hubert +was almost less than her love for her father—the man who, in spite of +lawless instincts, faulty training, great misfortunes and mistakes, had +a nature that was large enough and grand enough to know how to forgive.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were so blinded with tears that she saw but indistinctly that +her father was coming across the piazza to the long open window by which +she sat. She drew herself back a little, so as to be out of the range of +vision of the Colonel and Mr. MacPhail. She knew that the crisis of her +fate was come.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, my dear," said her father's homely ragged voice—how dear it +had grown, she felt that she had never known till now—"here's a +gentleman wants to have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> word with you. And he has my good wishes and +my friendship, dearie; and that's a thing that I thought you'd like to +know. He calls it my forgiveness; but we know—we understand—it's all +the same. I'll leave him with you, my beauty, and you can say to each +other what you please." And then he kissed her very tenderly and turned +away.</p> + +<p>She felt that Hubert had followed him, and had stepped into the room; +but she could not raise her eyes.</p> + +<p>She was obliged to see him however when he knelt down before her, and +put his clasped hands very gently upon her knee.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia," said his voice—the other voice that she loved to hear—"your +father says that he has forgiven me. Can you forgive?"</p> + +<p>She put her hand upon his, and a great tear fell down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to urge in my defence," he said. "If you like to punish +me—to send me away from you for ever—I know that I shall have deserved +my fate. I dare not ask for anything from you, Cynthia, except your +forgiveness. May I hope to gain that?"</p> + +<p>"If my father has forgiven you," she said a little hurriedly, "I cannot +do less."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence. He bowed his head and touched with his lips +the slender fingers that rested lightly upon his own joined hands. He +felt that she trembled at the touch.</p> + +<p>"What is to be my fate, Cynthia? I put my life into your hands. I owe it +to your father and to you."</p> + +<p>"What do you want it to be?" she asked softly, but with an effort of +which he was profoundly conscious and ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my love, my only love, you know what I desire!" he said, with +sudden passion; and for the first time he raised his head and looked +into her face. "I dare not ask—I am not worthy! If there is anything +that you can bear to say—to give me—you must do it of your own free +will; I cannot ask you for anything."</p> + +<p>"But you know," said Cynthia, looking at him at last, and letting, the +gleam of a smile appear through the tears that filled her eyes, "a woman +likes to be asked."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>And then, when their eyes had once met, their lips met too, and there +was no need for him to ask her anything.</p> + +<p>But, when there was no longer any need, he found it easier to ask +questions.</p> + +<p>"Cynthia, my darling, do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"With my whole heart, Hubert!"</p> + +<p>"And will you—will you really—be—my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hubert."</p> + +<p>"And you forgive me? Oh, that is more wonderful than all! You bow me to +the earth with your goodness—you and your father, Cynthia! What can I +do to be worthy of it? He is going to give me his name as well as +yourself; and Heaven knows that I will do my best to keep it clean!"</p> + +<p>His head sank on her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Hubert," she said, "you must not talk in that way! Do you think that I +should ever be ashamed of your name, darling? It is just that my father +has no son, and does not want his old name to die out. If you will +sacrifice your name, instead of my sacrificing mine, as women generally +do, you will make him very happy and very proud of you. He wants a son, +and you will be as a son to him, Hubert darling, will you not?"</p> + +<p>And so the treaty was ratified.</p> + +<p>Hubert and Cynthia were married in three weeks; and the marriage turned +out an uncommonly happy one. Contrary to even Cynthia's expectations, +Westwood and his son-in-law became the very best of friends. Westwood +was proud of Hubert's literary knowledge, of his former social standing, +of his many gifts and accomplishments. It was he who one day proposed +that Hubert should go back to the name of Lepel—the name by which he +had been known in the literary and dramatic world, and by which he would +perhaps be remembered long after "the Beechfield tragedy" was forgotten. +But Hubert refused. He was too proud of the new name that he had won, he +said, ever to give it up. As for literature, he had no inclination for +it now. In this new home, in a new world, with father, wife, and boys +beside him, and a political career which opened out a future such as he +had never dreamed of when he was writing his plays and poems in Russell +Square—a future made easy to him by Westwood's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> position and character +in the States, and also by the large fortune which Miss Vane had left +him unconditionally on her death—he had no wish to change his lot in +life. Out of evil had come good; but only through repentance and the +valley of humiliation, without which he would indeed have gone wearily +and sadly to an end without honor and without peace. But he had won a +great victory; and he was not without his great reward.</p> + + +<p class="center"><br /><br />THE END.</p> + + +<div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="notes"> +Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +Page 11: Changed "at a friend" to "as a friend"<br /> +Page 18: Changed "closed first" to "closed fist"<br /> +Page 31: Changed "her sister" to "his sister"<br /> +Page 122: Changed "infringment" to "infringement"<br /> +Page 142: Changed "insistance" to "insistence"<br /> +Page 148: Changed "freinds" to "friends"<br /> +Page 151: Changed "cutseyed" to "curtseyed"<br /> +Page 155: Changed "bettter" to "better"<br /> +Page 176: Changed "delighful" to "delightful"<br /> +Page 229: Changed "mediated" to "meditated"<br /> +Page 242: Changed "Kensingston" to "Kensington"<br /> +Page 243: Changed "remenber" to "remember"<br /> +Page 274: Changed "profond" to "profound"<br /> +Page 280: Changed "lovelinesss" to "loveliness"<br /> +Page 307: Changed "grevious" to "grievous"<br /> +Page 345: Changed "thoughful" to "thoughtful"<br /> +Page 379: Changed "word" to "world"<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Life Sentence, by Adeline Sergeant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31984-h.htm or 31984-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/8/31984/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +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. 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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 Life Sentence + A Novel + +Author: Adeline Sergeant + +Release Date: April 14, 2010 [EBook #31984] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + A LIFE SENTENCE. + + + A NOVEL. + + + BY + ADELINE SERGEANT, + _Author of "The Luck of the House," "Under False + Pretences," etc., etc._ + + + + + MONTREAL: + JOHN LOVELL & SON, + 23 St. Nicholas Street. + + + + +Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by John Lovell +& Son, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and Statistics at +Ottawa. + + + + +A LIFE SENTENCE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?" + +"We find the prisoner guilty, my lord." + +A curious little thrill of emotion--half sigh, half sob--ran through the +crowded court. Even the most callous, the most world-hardened, of human +beings cannot hear unmoved the verdict which condemns a fellow-creature +to a shameful death. The spectators of Andrew Westwood's trial for the +murder of Sydney Vane had expected, had predicted, the result; yet it +came with the force of a shock to their excited nerves. The trial had +lasted for two whole days already, and the level rays of sunshine that +streamed through the west windows of the court-house showed that the +afternoon of a third day was drawing to a close. The attention of the +patient sitters with whom the seats were closely packed had been +strained to the uttermost; the faces of many were white and weary, or +flushed with excitement and fatigue. The short absence of the jurymen +had only strung their nerves to a higher pitch; and the slight murmur +that passed through the heavy air when the verdict was made known showed +the tension which had been reached. + +The prisoner was well known in the locality, and so also had been his +victim. This fact accounted for the crowding of the court by friends and +acquaintances of the man murdered and his murderer, and for the +breathless interest with which every step of the legal process had been +followed. Apart from this, the case had excited much attention all over +England; the papers had been filled with its details, and a good deal of +discussion on the laws of circumstantial evidence had arisen during its +course. Not that there could be any reasonable doubt as to the +prisoner's guilt. True, nobody had seen him commit the crime. But he was +a poacher of evil character and violent disposition; he had been sent to +gaol for snaring rabbits by Mr. Vane, and had repeatedly vowed vengeance +upon him; there was a presumption against him from the very first. Then +one evening he had been seen lurking about a covert near which Mr. Vane +passed shortly afterwards; shots were heard by passers-by and Mr. Vane +was discovered lying amongst the springing bracken in the depths of a +shadowy copse, shot through the heart. A scrap of rough tweed found in +the dead man's hand was said to correspond with a torn corner of +Westwood's coat, and the murder was supposed to have been committed by +the poacher with a gun which was afterwards found in Westwood's cottage. +Several persons testified that they had seen Andrew issuing from the +copse or walking along the neighboring road, before or after the hour +when Mr. Vane met his fate, that he had his gun in his hand, that his +demeanor was strange, and that his clothes seemed to have been torn in a +scuffle. Little by little the evidence accumulated against him until it +proved irresistible. Facts which seemed small in themselves became large +and black, and charged with damnatory significance in the lawyer's +hands. The best legal talent of the country was used with crushing +effect against poor Andrew Westwood. Sydney Vane had been a popular man; +he belonged to a well-known county family, and had left a widow and +child. His friends would have moved heaven and earth to bring his +murderer to justice. After all--as was said later--the man Westwood +never had a chance. What availed his steady sullen denial against the +mass of circumstantial evidence accumulated against him? The rope was +round his neck from the time when that morsel of cloth was found clasped +close in the dead man's hand. + +If there had been a moment when the hearts of his enemies were softened, +when a throb of pity was felt even by Sydney Vane's elder brother, the +implacable old General who had vowed that he would pursue Andrew +Westwood to the death, it was when the prisoner's little daughter had +been put into the witness-box to give evidence against her father. Every +one felt that the moment was terrible, the situation almost unbearable. +The child was eleven years old, a brown, thin, frightened-looking +little creature, with unnaturally large dark eyes and masses of thick +dark hair. Her appearance evidently agitated the prisoner. He looked at +her with an expression of anguish, and wrung his gaunt nervous hands +together with a groan that haunted for many a long year the memories of +those who heard it. The child's dilated black eyes fixed themselves upon +him, and her lips, drawn back a little from her teeth, turned ashy +white. No one who saw her pathetic little face could feel anything but +compassion for her, and a wish to spare her as much as possible. + +The counsel certainly wished to spare her. Only one or two questions +were to be asked, and these were not of great importance; but at the +very outset a difficulty occurred. She was small for her age, and the +judge chose to ask whether she was aware of the nature of an oath. He +got no answer but a frightened stare. A few more questions plainly +revealed a state of extraordinary ignorance on the child's part. Did she +know who made her? No. Had she not heard of God? No. Did she attach any +meaning to the words "heaven" or "hell?" Not in the very least. By her +own showing, Andrew Westwood's little daughter was no better than a +heathen. + +The judge decided that her evidence need not be taken, and made a severe +remark about the unwisdom of bringing so young and untaught a witness +into court, especially when--as appeared to him--the child was of feeble +intellect and weakly constitution. + +It was murmured in reply that the girl had previously shown herself +quick-witted and ready of tongue, and that it was only since the shock +of her father's arrest that she had lapsed into her present state of +apparent semi-imbecility. No further attempt was made however to bring +her forward; and little Jenny Westwood, as she was usually called, on +stepping down from the box, was bidden to go away, as the court in which +her father was being tried for his life was no place for her. But she +did not go. She shrank into a corner, and waited until the Court rose +that day. In the morning she came again, resisting all efforts made by +some kindly countrywomen to take her away to their homes. She did not +speak, but struggled out of their hands with so wild a look in her great +black eyes that they shrank back from her aghast, whispering to each +other that she was purely "not right in the head," and perhaps they had +better leave her alone. They made her sit beside them, and tried to +persuade her to share the food that they had brought to eat in the +middle of the day; but they did not succeed in their kindly efforts. The +child seemed stupefied; she had a blind look, and did not respond when +spoken to. + +She heard the foreman declare the finding of the jury--"Guilty, my +lord," but she hardly knew at that moment what was meant. Then came the +usual question. Had the prisoner anything to say? Was there any defence +which even now he desired to urge, any plea in mitigation of his crime? + +Andrew Westwood raised his head. He had a sullen, defiant countenance; +his wild dark eyes, the shock of black hair tumbled across his lowering +brows, his rugged features, had told against him in popular estimation +and given him a ruffianly aspect in the eyes of the crowd; and yet, when +he stood up, and with a sudden rough gesture tossed the hair back from +his brows, and faced the judge with a look of unflinching resolution, it +was felt that the man possessed a rude dignity which compelled something +very like admiration. Courage always commands respect, and, whatever his +faults, his vices, his crimes might be, Andrew Westwood was a courageous +man. He gripped the rail of the dock before him with both hands, and +gave a quick look round the court before he spoke. His face was a little +paler than usual, but his strong, hard voice did not falter. + +"I have only to say what I said before. I take God to witness that I am +innocent of this murder, and I pray that He'll punish the man that did +kill Mr. Vane and left me to bear the burden of his crime! That's all I +have to say, my lord. You may hang me if you like--I swear that I never +killed him; and I curse the hand that did!" + +The hard, defiant tone of his speech effectually dissipated the +momentary sympathy felt for him by his audience. The judge sternly cut +him short, and said a few solemn words on the heinousness of his offence +and the impenitence which he had evinced. Then came the tragic +conclusion of the scene. + +It had grown late; lights were brought in and placed before the judge, +upon whose scarlet robes and pale, agitated face they flickered +strangely in the draught from an open window at the back of the +court-house. The greater part of the building was in shadow; here and +there a chance ray of light rested on one or two in a row of raised +faces, and threw some insignificant countenance into startling temporary +distinctness. A breathless hush pervaded the whole room. Every eye was +fixed on the central figures of the scene--on the criminal as he stood +with hands still grasping the side of the dock, his head defiantly +raised, his shoulders braced as if to support a blow; on the judge, +whose pale features quivered with emotion as he donned the black cap and +uttered the fatal words which condemned Andrew Westwood to meet death by +the hangman's hand. + +"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!" + +The words were scarcely spoken before a loud scream rang through the +hall. Westwood turned round sharply; his eyes roved anxiously over the +throng of faces, and seemed to pierce the gloom that had gathered about +the benches in the background. He saw a little group of persons gathered +about the body of a child whom they were carrying into the fresh air. It +was his own little daughter who had cried out and fainted at the sound +of those fateful words. + +The prisoner was instantly removed by two warders; but it was noted that +before he left the dock he threw up his hands as if in a wild gesture of +supplication to the heavens that would not hear. He made eager inquiries +of the warders as to the welfare of his child; and it was perhaps owing +to the compassion of one of them that the chaplain came to him an hour +later in his cell with news of her. She was better, she was in the hands +of kindly women who would take care of her, and she would come to see +her father by-and-bye. A convulsive twitch passed over Andrew's face. + +"No, no," he said; "I don't want to see her. What good would that do?" + +The chaplain, a kindly man whose sensibilities were not yet blunted by +the painful scenes through which he had constantly to pass, uttered a +word of remonstrance. + +"Surely," he said, "you would like to see her again? She seems to love +you dearly." + +"I'm not saying that I don't love her myself," said the man, turning +away his face. Then, after a moment's pause, and in a stifled +voice--"She's dearer to me than the apple of my eye. And that's where +the sting is. I'm to go out of the world, it seems, with a blot on my +name, and she'll never know who put it there." + +"If you saw her yourself----" + +"Nay," said Westwood resolutely--"I won't see her again. She'd remember +me all her life then, and she'd better forget. You're a good man, sir, +and a kind--couldn't you take her away somewhere out of hearing of all +this commotion, to some place where they would not know her father's +story, and where she'd never hear whether he was alive or dead?" + +The chaplain shook his head. + +"I'm afraid not, Westwood," he said compassionately. "I know of no place +where she could be safe from gossip." + +"She will hear my story wherever she goes, I suppose you mean," said +Westwood wearily. "Ah, well, she will learn to bear it in time, poor +soul." + +The chaplain looked at him curiously. There was more sincerity of tone, +less cant and affectation in this man than in any criminal he had ever +known. + +"I suppose, sir," said the prisoner, after a short silence, during which +he sat with his eyes fixed on the floor--"I suppose there is no chance +of a reprieve--of the sentence being commuted?" + +"I'm afraid not, Westwood. And you must let me say that your own conduct +during the trial makes it more improbable that any commutation of the +sentence should be obtained. If, my man, you could have shown any +penitence--if you had confessed your crime----" + +"The crime that I never committed?" said Westwood, with a flash of his +sullen dark eyes. "Ah, you all speak alike! It's the same +story--'Confess--repent.' I may have plenty to confess and repent of, +but not this, for I never murdered Sydney Vane." + +The chaplain shook his head. + +"I am sorry that you persist in your story," he said sadly. "I had hoped +that you would come to a better mind." + +"Do you want me to go into eternity with a lie on my lips?" asked +Westwood, fiercely. "I tell you that I am speaking the truth now. My +coat was torn on a briar; I fired my gun at a crow as I went over the +fields to my cottage. I saw a man go into the copse after Mr. Vane just +as I came out. Find him, if you want to know who killed Mr. Vane." + +"You have told us the same story before," said the chaplain, in a +discouraged tone. "For your own sake, Westwood, I wish I could believe +you. Who was the man? What was he like? Where did he go? Unless those +questions are answered, it is impossible that your story should be +believed." + +"I can't answer them," said Westwood, in a sullen tone. "I did not know +the man, and I did not look at him. All I know is that he has murdered +me as well as Mr. Vane, and blasted the life of my innocent child. And I +shall pray God night and morning as long as the breath is in my body to +punish him, and to bring shame and sorrow on himself and all that he +loves, as he has brought shame and sorrow on me and mine." + +Then he turned his face to the wall and would say no more. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Beechfield Hall was the name of the old manor-house in which the Vanes +had lived for many generations. The present head of the family, General +Richard Vane, was a man of fifty-five, a childless widower, whose +interests centred in the management of his estate and the welfare of his +brother Sydney and Sydney's wife and child. In the natural course of +events, Sydney would eventually have succeeded to the property. It had +always been a matter of regret to the General that neither he nor his +brother had a son; and, when Sydney's life was prematurely cut short, +the General's real grief for his brother's loss was deepened and +embittered by the thought that the last chance of an heir was gone, and +that the family name--one of the most ancient in the county--would soon +become extinct, for a daughter did not count in the General's +meditation. It did not occur to his mind as within the limits of +possibility that he himself should marry again. He had always hoped that +Sydney--twenty years younger than himself, and the husband of a fair +and blooming wife--would have a son to bear his name. Hitherto the +Sydney Vanes had been unfortunate in their offsprings. Of five beautiful +children only one had lived beyond the first few months of babyhood--and +that one was a girl! But father, mother, and uncle had gone on hoping +for better things. Now it seemed likely that little Enid, the +nine-year-old daughter, would be the last of the Vanes, and that with +the General the name of the family would finally die out. + +Beechfield Hall had long been known as one of the pleasantest houses in +the county. It was a large red-brick, comfortable-looking mansion, made +picturesque by a background of lofty trees, and by the ivy and Virginia +creeper and clematis in which it was embowered, rather than by the style +of its architecture. Along the front of the building ran a wide terrace, +with stone balustrades and flights of steps at either end leading to the +flower garden, which sloped down to an ornamental piece of water fed by +springs from the rich meadow-land beyond. This terrace and the +exquisitely-kept garden gave the house a stateliness of aspect, which it +would have lost if severed from its surroundings; but the General was +proud of every stick and stone about the place, and could never be +brought to see that its beauty existed chiefly in his own fond +imagination. + +Whether Beechfield Hall was beautiful or not, however, mattered little +to the county squires and their families, to whom it had been for many +years a centre of life and gaiety. The General and his brother were +hunting-men; they had a capital stud, and were always ready to give +their friends a mount in the hunting season. They preserved strictly, +and could offer good shooting and good fishing to their neighbors; and +they were liberal of such offers--they were generous and hospitable in +every sense of the word. Mrs. Sydney Vane was of a similar disposition. +Her dances, her dinners, her garden-parties, were said to be the most +enjoyable in the county. She was young and pretty, vivacious and +agreeable, as fond of society as her husband and her brother-in-law, +always ready to fill her house with guests, to make up a party or +organise a pic-nic, adored by all young people in the neighborhood, the +chosen friend and confidante of half the older ones. And now the +innocent mirth and cordial hospitality of Beechfield Hall had come to +an untimely end. Poor Sydney Vane was laid to rest in the little green +churchyard behind the woodland slope which fronted the terrace and the +lawn. His wife, prostrated by the shock of his death, had never left her +room since the news of it was brought to her; his brother, the genial +and warm-hearted General, looked for the first time like a feeble old +man, and seemed almost beside himself. Even little Enid was pale and +frightened, and had lost her inclination for mirth and laughter. The +servants moved about in their sombre mourning garments with grave faces +and hushed, awe-stricken ways. It seemed almost incredible that so great +a misfortune should have fallen upon the house, that its brightness +should be quenched so utterly. + +As soon as the misfortune that had befallen the Vanes was made known, +the General's maiden-sister descended from London upon the house, and +took possession, but not in any imperious or domineering way. Miss +Leonora Vane was far too shrewd and too kindly a woman to be aught but +helpful and sympathetic at such a time. But it was in her nature to +rule--she could not help making her influence felt wherever she went, +and the reins of government fell naturally into her hands as soon as she +appeared upon the scene. She was the General's junior by five years +only, and had always looked on Sydney and his wife as poor, +irresponsible, frivolous young creatures, quite incapable of managing +their own affairs. A difference of opinion on this point had driven her +to London, where she had a nice little house in Kensington, and was +great on committees and boards of management. But real sorrow chased all +considerations of her own dignity or comfort from her mind. She hurried +down to Beechfield as soon as she knew of her brother's need; and during +the weary days and weeks between Sydney's death and Westwood's trial, +she had been invaluable as a friend, helper, and capable mistress of the +disorganised household. + +She sat one June morning at the head of the breakfast-table in the +dining-room at Beechfield Hall, with an unaccustomed look of +dissatisfaction and perplexity upon her handsome resolute face. Miss +Vane was a woman of fifty, but her black hair showed scarcely a line of +silver, and her brown eyes were as keen and bright as they had ever +been. With her smooth, unwrinkled forehead, her colorless but healthy +complexion, and her thin well-braced figure, she looked ten years +younger than her age. Not often was her composure disturbed, but on this +occasion trouble and anxiety were both evinced by the knitting of her +brows and the occasional twitching of her usually firm lips. She sat +behind the coffee-urn, but she had finished her own breakfast long +since, and was now occupying her ever-busy fingers with some knitting +until her brother should appear. But her hands were unsteady, and at +last, with an exclamation of disgust, she laid down her knitting-pins, +and crossed the long white fingers closely over one another in her lap. + +"Surely Hubert got my telegram!" she murmured to herself. "I wish he +would come--oh, how I wish that he would come!" + +She moved in her seat so as to be able to see the marble clock on the +massive oak mantelpiece. The hands pointed to the hour of nine. Miss +Vane rose and looked out of the window. + +"He might have taken the early train from town. If he had, he would be +here by this time. But no doubt he did not think it worth while. 'An old +woman's fancy!' he said to himself perhaps. Hubert was never very +tolerant of other people's fancies, though he has plenty of his own, +Heaven knows! Ah, there he comes, thank Heaven! For once he has done +what I wished--dear boy!" + +Miss Vane's hard countenance softened as she said the words. She sank +down into her chair again, crossed her hands once more upon her knees, +and assumed the attitude of impenetrable rigidity intended to impress +the observer with a sense of her indifference to all mankind. But the +new-comer, who entered from the terrace at that moment, was too well +used to Miss Vane's ways and manners to be much impressed. + +"Good morning, aunt Leo. I have obeyed your orders, you see," he said, +as he bent down and touched her forehead lightly with his lips. + +He was a young man, not more than one or two and twenty, but he had +already lost much of the freshness and youthfulness of his years. He was +of middle height, rather slenderly built, well dressed, well brushed, +with the air of high-bred distinction which is never attained save by +those to the manner born. His face was singularly handsome, strong, yet +refined, with sharply-cut features, dark eyes and hair, a heavy black +moustache, and a grave, almost melancholy expression--altogether a +striking face, not one easily to be forgotten or overlooked. As he +seated himself quietly at the breakfast-table, and replied to some query +of his aunt's respecting the hour of his arrival, it occurred to Miss +Vane that he was looking remarkably tired and unwell. The line of his +cheek, always somewhat sharp, seemed to have fallen in, there were dark +shadows beneath his eyes, and his olive complexion had assumed the +slightly livid tints which sometimes mark ill-health. In spite of her +preoccupation with other matters, Miss Vane could not repress a comment +on his appearance. + +"What have you been doing with yourself, Hubert? You look positively +ghastly!" + +"Do I!" said Hubert, glancing up with a ready smile. "I shouldn't +wonder. I was up all last night with some fellows that I know--we made a +night of it, aunt Leo--and I have naturally a headache this morning." + +"You deserve it then. Surely you might have chosen a more fitting time +for a carouse!" + +It seemed to her, curiously enough, that he gave a little shiver and +drew in his lips beneath his dark moustache. But he answered with his +usual indifference of manner. + +"It was hardly a carouse. I can't undertake to make a recluse of myself, +my dear aunt, in spite of the family troubles." + +"Hubert, don't be so heartless!" cried Miss Vane imperiously; then, +checking herself, she pressed her thin lips slightly together and sat +silent, with her eyes fixed on the cups before her. + +"Am I heartless? Well, I suppose I am," said the young man, with a +slight mocking smile in which his eyes seemed to take no part. "I am +sorry, but really I can't help it. In the meantime perhaps you will give +me a cup of coffee--for I am famishing after my early flight from +town--and tell me why you telegraphed for me in such a hurry last +night." + +Miss Vane filled his cup with a hand that trembled still. Hubert Lepel +watched her movements with interest. He did not often see his kinswoman +display so much agitation. She was not his aunt by any tie of blood--she +was a faraway cousin only; but ever since his babyhood he had addressed +her by that title. + +"I sent for you," she said at last, speaking jerkily and hurriedly, as +if the effort were almost more than she could bear--"I sent for you to +tell the General what you yourself telegraphed to me last night." + +A flush of dull red color stole into the young man's face. He looked at +her intently, with a contracted brow. + +"Do you mean," he said, after a moment's pause, "that you have not told +him yet?" + +Miss Vane averted her eyes. + +"No," she answered; "I have not told him. You will think me weak--I +suppose I am weak, Hubert--but I dared not tell him." + +"And you summoned me from London to break the news? For no other +reason?" + +Miss Vane nodded,--"That was all." + +Hubert bit his lip and sipped his coffee before saying another word. + +"Aunt Leo," he said, after a silence during which Miss Vane gave +unequivocal signs of nervousness, "I really must say that I think the +proceeding was unnecessary." He leaned back in his chair and toyed with +his spoon, a whiteness which Miss Vane was accustomed to interpret as a +sign of anger showing itself about his nostrils and his lips. She had +long looked upon it as an ominous sign. + +"Hubert, Hubert, don't be angry--don't refuse to help me!" she said, in +pleading tones, such as he had never heard from her before. "I assure +you that my post in this house is no sinecure. Poor Marion"--she spoke +of Mrs. Sydney Vane--"is rapidly sinking into her grave. Ay, you may +well start! She has never got over the shock of Sydney's death, and the +excitement of the last few days seems to have increased her malady. She +insisted on having every report of the trial read to her; and ever since +the conviction she has grown weaker, until the doctor says that she can +hardly outlast the week. Oh, that wicked man--that murderer--has much to +answer for!" said Miss Vane, clasping her hands passionately together. + +Hubert was silent; his eyebrows were drawn down over his eyes, his face +was strangely white. + +"Your uncle," Miss Vane continued sadly, "is nearly heart-broken. You +know how much he loved poor Sydney, how much he cares for Marion. He +has been a different man ever since that terrible day. I am afraid for +his health--for his reason even, if----" + +"For Heaven's sake, stop," said the young man hoarsely. "I can't bear +this enumeration of misfortunes; it--it makes me--ill! Don't say any +more." + +He pushed back his chair, rose, and went to the sideboard, where he +poured out a glass of water from the carafe and drank it off. Then he +leaned both elbows on the damask-covered mahogany surface, and rested +his forehead on his hands. Miss Vane stared at his bowed head, at his +bent figure, with unfeigned amazement. She thought that she knew Hubert +well, and she had never numbered over-sensitiveness amongst his virtues +or vices. She concluded that the last night's dissipation had been too +much for his nerves. + +"Hubert," she said at length, "you must be ill." + +"I believe I am," the young man answered. He raised his face from his +hands, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped his forehead with it before +turning round. It were well that his aunt should not see the cold drops +of perspiration standing upon his brow. He tried to laugh as he came +forward to the table once more. "You must excuse me," he said. "I have +not been well for the last few days, and your list of disasters quite +upset me." + +"My poor boy," said aunt Leo, looking at him tenderly. "I am afraid that +I have been very thoughtless! I should have remembered that these last +few weeks have been as trying to you as to all of us. You always loved +Marion and Sydney." + +It would have been impossible for her to interpret aright the +involuntary spasm of feeling that flashed across Hubert's face, the +uncontrollable shudder that ran through all his frame. Impossible +indeed! How could she fancy that he said to himself as he heard her +words---- + +"Loved Sydney Vane! Merciful powers, I never sank to that level, at any +rate! When I think of what I now know of him, I am glad to remember that +he was my enemy!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +At that moment a heavy step was heard in the hall, a hand fumbled with +the lock of the door. Miss Vane glanced apprehensively at Hubert. + +"He is there," she said--"he is coming in. The London papers will arrive +in half an hour. Hubert, don't leave him to learn the news from the +papers or from his London lawyer." + +"What harm if he did?" muttered Hubert; but, before Miss Vane could +reply, the door was opened and the General entered the room. + +He was a tall, white-haired man, with a stoop in his shoulders which had +not been perceptible a year before. His finely-cut features strongly +resembled those of his sister, but there was some weakness in the +slightly receding chin, some hint of irresolution in the lines of the +handsome mouth, which could not be found in Leonora Vane's expressive +countenance. The General's eyes were remarkably fine, clear and blue as +sea-water or the sky, but their expression on this occasion was +peculiar. They had a wild, wandering, irresolute look which impressed +Hubert painfully. He rose respectfully from his chair as the old man +came in; but for a moment or two the General gazed at him +unrecognisingly. + +"Hubert has come to spend the day with us, Richard," said Miss Vane. + +"Hubert? Oh, yes, Hubert Lepel!" murmured the General, as if recalling a +forgotten name. "Florence Lepel's brother--a cousin of ours, I believe? +Glad to see you, Hubert," said the General, suddenly awakening, +apparently from a dream. "Did you come down this morning? From London or +from Whitminster?" + +"From London, sir." + +"Oh, yes--from London! I thought perhaps that you had been"--the +General's voice sank to a husky whisper--"to see that fellow get his +deserts. Hush--don't speak of it before Leonora; ladies should not hear +about these things, you know!" He caught Hubert by the sleeve and drew +him aside. "The execution was to be this morning; did you not know?" he +said, fixing his wild eyes upon the young man's paling face. "Eight +o'clock was the hour; it must be over by now. Well, well--the Lord have +mercy upon his sinful soul!" + +"Amen!" Hubert muttered between his closed teeth. Then he seemed to make +a violent effort to control himself--to assume command over his +kinsman's disordered mind. "Come, sir," he said--"you must not talk like +that. Think no more of that wretched man. You know there was a chance--a +loophole. Some people were not convinced that he was guilty. There have +been petitions signed by hundreds of people, I believe, to the Home +Secretary for mercy." + +"Mercy--mercy!" shouted the General, his pale face growing first red and +then purple from excitement. "Who talks of mercy to that ruffian? But +Harbury"--naming the Home Secretary for the time being--"Harbury will +stand firm; Harbury will never yield! I would take my oath that Harbury +won't give in! Such a miscarriage of justice was never heard of! Don't +talk to me of it! Harbury knows his duty; and the man has been +punished--the man is dead!" + +Hubert's voice trembled a little as he spoke. + +"The man is not dead, sir," he said. + +The General turned upon him fiercely. + +"Was not this morning fixed for the--is this not the twenty-fifth?" he +said. "What do you mean?" + +There was a moment's silence, during which he read the answer to his +question in Hubert's melancholy eyes. Miss Vane held her breath; she saw +her brother stagger as if a sudden dizziness had seized him; he caught +at the back of an antique heavily-carved oak chair for support. In the +pause she noted involuntarily the beauty of the golden sunshine that +filled every corner of the luxuriously-appointed room, intensifying the +glow of color in the Persian carpet, illuminating as with fire the +brass-work and silver-plate which decorated the table and the sideboard, +vividly outlining in varied tones of delicate hues the masses of June +roses that filled every vase and bowl in the room. The air was full of +perfume--nothing but beauty met the eye; and yet, in spite of this +material loveliness, how black and evil, how unutterably full of +sadness, did the world appear to Leonora Vane just then! And, if she +could have seen into the heart of one at least of the men who stood +before her, she would almost have died of grief and shame. + +"You don't mean," stammered the General, "that the ruffian who murdered +my brother--has been--reprieved?" + +"It is said, sir, that imprisonment for life is a worse punishment than +death," said Hubert gently. The face of no man--even of one condemned to +life-long punishment--could have expressed deeper gloom than his own as +he said the words. Yet mingling with the gloom there was something +inflexible that gave it almost a repellent character. It was as if he +would have thrown any show or pity back into the face of those who +offered it, and defied the world to sympathise with him on account of +some secret trouble which he had brought upon himself. + +"Worse than death--worse than death!" repeated the old man. "I do not +know what you mean, sir. I shall go up to town at once and see Harbury +about this matter. It is in his hands----" + +"Not now," interposed Hubert. "The Queen----" + +"The Queen will hear reason, sir! I will make my way to her presence, +and speak to her myself. She will not refuse the prayer of an old man +who has served his country as long and as faithfully as I have done. I +will tell her the story myself, and she will see justice done--justice +on the man who murdered my brother!" + +His voice grew louder and his breath came in choking gasps between the +words. His face was purple, the veins on his forehead were swollen and +his eyes bloodshot; with one hand he was leaning on the table, with the +other he gesticulated violently, shaking the closed fist almost in +Hubert's face, as if he mistook him for the murderer himself. It was a +pitiable sight. The old man had completely lost his self-command, and +his venerable white hairs and bowed form accentuated the harrowing +effect which his burst of passion produced upon his hearers. Hubert +stood silent, spell-bound, as it seemed, with sorrow and dismay; but +Miss Vane, shaking off her unwonted timidity, went up to her brother and +laid her hand upon his outstretched quivering arm. + +"Richard, Richard, do not speak in that way!" she said. "It is not +Christian--it is not even human. You are not a man who would wish to +take away a fellow-creature's life or to rob him of a chance of +repentance." + +The General's hand fell, but his eyes flamed with the look of an +infuriated beast of prey as he turned them on Miss Leonora. + +"You are a woman," he said harshly, "and, as a woman, you may be weak; +but I am a man and a soldier, and would die for the honor of my family. +Not take away that man's life? I swear to you that, if I had him here, I +would kill him with my own hands! Does not the Scripture tell us that a +life shall be given for a life?" + +"It tells us that vengeance is the Lord's, Richard, and that He will +repay." + +"Yes--by the hands of His servants, Leonora. Are you so base as not to +desire the punishment of your brother's murderer! If so, never speak to +me, never come near my house again! And you, young gentleman, get ready +to come with me to London at once! I will see Harbury before the day is +over." + +"My dear General," said Hubert, looking exceedingly perplexed, "I think +that you will hardly find Harbury in town. I heard yesterday that he was +leaving London for a few days." + +"Nonsense, sir! Leaving London before the close of the session! +Impossible! But we can get his address and follow him, I suppose? I will +see Harbury to-night!" + +"It will be useless," said Hubert, with resignation, "but, if you +insist----" + +"I do insist! The honor of my house is at stake, and I shall do my +utmost to bring that ruffian to the gallows! I cannot understand you +young fellows of the present day, cold-blooded, effeminate, without +natural affection--I cannot understand it, I say. Ring the bell for +Saunders; tell him to put up my bag. I will go at once--this very +moment--this----" + +The General's voice suddenly faltered and broke. For some time his words +had been almost unintelligible; they ran into one another, as if his +tongue was not under the control of his will. His face, first red, then +purple, was nearly black, and a slight froth was showing itself upon his +discolored lips. As his sister and cousin looked at him in alarm, they +saw that he staggered backwards as if about to fall. Hubert sprang +forward and helped him to his chair, where he lay back, with his eyes +half closed, breathing stertorously, and apparently almost unconscious. +The rage, the excitement, had proved too much for his physical strength; +he was on the verge, if he had not absolutely succumbed to it, of an +apoplectic fit. + +The doctor was sent for in haste. All possibility of the General's +expedition to London was out of the question, very much to Miss Vane's +relief. She had been dreading an illness of this kind for some days, and +it was this fear which had caused her to telegraph for Hubert before +breaking to her brother the news that she herself had learned the night +before. She had seen her father die of a similar attack, and had been +roused to watchfulness by symptoms of excitement in her brother's manner +during the last few days. The blow had fallen now, and she could only be +thankful that matters were no worse. + +When the doctor had come--he was met half-way up the drive by the +messenger, on his way to pay a morning visit to Mrs. Sydney--and when he +had superintended the removal of the General to his room, Hubert was +left for a time alone. He quitted the dining-room and made his way to +his favorite resort at Beechfield Hall--a spacious conservatory which +ran the whole length of one side of the house. Into this conservatory, +now brilliant with exotics, several rooms opened, one after another--a +small breakfast-room, a study, a library, billiard-room, and +smoking-room. These all communicated with each other as well as with the +conservatory, and it was as easy as it was delightful to exchange the +neighborhood of books or pipes or billiard-balls for that of Mrs. Vane's +orchids and stephanotis-blossoms. Poor Mrs. Vane used to grumble over +the conservatory. It was on the wrong side of the house--the gentlemen's +side, she called it--and did not run parallel with the drawing-room; but +the very oddness of the arrangement seemed to please her guests. + +Hubert had always liked to smoke his morning cigar amongst the flowers, +and, as he paced slowly up and down the tesselated floor, and inhaled +the heavy perfume of the myrtles and the heliotrope, his features +relaxed a little, his eyes grew less gloomy and his brow more tranquil. +He glanced round him with an air almost of content, and drew a deep +breath. + +"If one could live amongst flowers all one's life, away from the crimes +and follies of the rest of the world, how happy one might be!" he said +to himself half cynically, half sadly, as he stooped to puff away the +green-fly from a delicate plant with the smoke of his cigar. "That's +impossible, however. There's no chance of a monastery in these modern +days! What wouldn't I give just now to be out of all this--this +misery--this deviltry?" He put a strong and bitter accent on the last +word. "But I see no way out of it--none!" + +"There is no way out of it--for you," a voice near him said. + +Without knowing it, he had spoken aloud. This answer to his reverie +startled him exceedingly. He wheeled round to discover whence it came, +and, to his surprise, found himself close to the open library window, +where, just inside the room, a girl was sitting in a low cushioned +chair. + +He took the cigar from his mouth and held it between his fingers as he +looked at her, his brow contracting with anger rather than with +surprise. He stood thus two or three minutes, as if expecting her to +speak, but she did not even raise her eyes. She was a tall, fair girl +with hair of the palest flaxen, artistically fluffed out and curled upon +her forehead, and woven into a magnificent coronet upon her graceful +head; her downcast eyelids were peculiarly large and white, and, when +raised, revealed the greatest beauty and the greatest surprise of her +face--a pair of velvety dark-brown eyes, which had the curious power of +assuming a reddish tint when she was angry or disturbed. Her skin was of +the perfect creaminess which sometimes accompanies red hair--and it was +whispered by her acquaintances that Florence Lepel's flaxen locks had +once been of a decidedly carroty tinge, and that their present pallor +had been attained by artificial means. Whether this was the case or not +it could not be denied that their color was now very becoming to her +pale complexion, and that they constituted the chief of Miss Lepel's +many acknowledged charms. For, in a rather strange and uncanny way, +Florence Lepel was a beautiful woman; and, though critics said that she +was too thin, that her neck was too long, her face too pale and narrow, +her hair too colorless for beauty, there were many for whom a distinct +fascination lay in the unusual combination of these features. + +She was dressed from head to foot in sombre black, which made her neck +and hands appear almost dazzlingly white. Perhaps it was also the +sombreness of her attire which gave a look of fragility--an almost +painful fragility--to her appearance. Hubert noted, half unconsciously, +that her figure was more willowy than ever, that the veins on her +temples and her long white hands were marked with extraordinary +distinctness, that there were violet shadows on the large eyelids and +beneath the drooping lashes. But, for all that, the bitter sternness of +his expression did not change. When he spoke, it was in a particularly +severe tone. + +"I should be obliged to you," he said, still holding his cigar between +his fingers, and looking down at her with a very dark frown upon his +face, "if you would kindly tell me exactly what you mean." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Florence Lepel raised her beautiful eyes at last to her brother's face. + +"I only repeat what you yourself have said. There is no way out of +it--for you." + +Her voice was quite even and expressionless, but Hubert's face +contracted at the sound of her words as if they hurt him. He raised his +cigar mechanically to his lips, found that it had gone out, and, instead +of relighting it, threw it away angrily from him amongst the flowers. +His sister, her eyes keen notwithstanding the velvety softness of their +glance, saw that his hands trembled as he did so. + +"I should like to have some conversation with you," he said, in a tone +that betokened irritation, "if you can spare a little time from your +duties." + +"They are not particularly engrossing just now," said Miss Lepel evenly, +indicating the book that lay upon her lap. "I am improving my mind by +the study of the French language," she said. "The General knows nothing +of French authors since the days of Racine, and will think me quite +laudably employed in reading a modern French novel." + +"The General is not likely to find you anywhere to-day, nor for many a +day to come." + +"Is he dead?" asked his sister, ruffling the pages of her book. She did +not look as if anybody's death could disturb her perfect equanimity. + +"Are you a fiend, Florence," Hubert burst out angrily, "that you can +speak in that manner of a man who has been so great a benefactor, so +kind a friend, to both of us? Have you no heart at all?" + +"I am not sure. If ever I had one, I think that it was killed--three +months ago." + +Her voice sank to a whisper as she uttered the last few words. Her +breath came a little faster for a second or two--then she was calm +again. Her brother looked at her with an air of stupefaction. + +"How dare you allude to that shameful episode in your life," he said +sternly, "and to me, of all people!" + +"If not to you, I should certainly speak of it to no one," she answered +quietly. There was a sudden blaze of light in the red-brown eyes beneath +the heavily-veined eyelids. + +"You are my only safety-valve; I must speak sometimes--or die. +Besides"--in a still lower tone--"I see nothing shameful about it. We +have done no harm. If he loved me better than he loved his chattering +commonplace little wife, I was not to blame. How could I help it if I +loved him too? It was _kismet_--it had to be. You should not have +interfered." + +"And pray what would have happened if I had not interfered? What shame, +what ruin, what disgrace!" + +"It is useless for you to rant and rave in that manner," said Florence +Lepel, letting her eyes drop once more to the open pages of her French +novel. "You did interfere, and there is an end of it. And what an end! +You must be proud of your work. He dead, Marion dying, the General +nearly mad with grief, the man Westwood hanged for a crime that he never +committed!" + +"Westwood has been reprieved," said Hubert sharply. + +"What a relief to you!" commented his sister, with almost incredible +coolness. + +He turned away from her, catching at his throat as if something rose to +choke him there. His face was very pale; the lines of pain about his +eyes and mouth were plainer and deeper than they had been before. +Florence glanced up at him and smiled faintly. There was a strange +malignity in her smile. + +"You can tell me," she said, when the silence had lasted for some +minutes, "what you meant by saying that the General would not find me +here to-day." + +"He has narrowly escaped a fit of apoplexy. He is to be kept quiet; he +will not be able to see any one for some days to come." + +"Oh! What brought it on?" + +"The news," Hubert answered reluctantly, "of Westwood's reprieve." + +Miss Lepel smiled again. + +"Was he so very angry?" she said. "Ah, he would do anything in his power +to bring his brother's murderer to justice--I have heard him say so a +hundred times! You ought to be very grateful to me, Hubert, for +remembering that you are my brother." + +"I wish to Heaven I were not!" cried the young man. + +"For some things I wish you were not too," said Florence slowly. She sat +up, clasped her white hands round her knees, and looked at him +reflectively. "If you had not been my brother, I suppose you would not +have interfered," she went on. "You would have left me to pursue my +wicked devices, and simply turned your back on me and Sydney Vane. I +agree with you. I wish to Heaven--if you like that form of +expression--that you were not my brother, Hubert Lepel! You have made +the misery of my life." + +"And you the disgrace of mine!" he said bitterly. + +"Then we are quits," she answered, in the listless, passionless voice +that she seemed especially to affect. "We need not reproach each other; +we have each had something to bear at one another's hands." + +"Florence," said Hubert--and his voice trembled a little as he +spoke--"what are you going to do? It is, as you say, useless for us to +reproach each other for the past; but for the future let me at least be +certain that my sacrifice will avail to keep you in a right path, that +you will not again--not again----" + +"This is very edifying," said Florence quietly, as the young man broke +off short in his speech, and turned away with a despairing stamp of the +foot--his sister's face would have discomfited a man of far greater +moral courage than poor Hubert Lepel--"it is something new for me to be +lectured by my younger brother, whose course has surely not been quite +irreproachable, I should imagine! Come, Hubert--do not be so absurd! You +have acted according to your lights, as the old women say, and I +according to mine. There is nothing more for us to talk about. Let us +quit the subject; the past is dead." + +"I tell you that it is the future that I concern myself about. Upon my +honor, Florence, I did not know that you were here when I came down +to-day! I thought that you had gone to your friend Mrs. Bartolet at +Worcester, as you said to me that you would when I saw you last. Why +have you not gone? You said that life here was now intolerable to you. I +remember your very words, although I have not been here for weeks." + +"Your memory does you credit," said the girl, with slow scorn. + +"Why have you stayed?" + +"For my own ends--not yours." + +"So I suppose." + +"My dear brother Hubert," said Florence, composing herself in a graceful +attitude in the depths of her basket-chair, "can you not be persuaded to +go your own way and leave me to go mine? You have done a good deal of +mischief already, don't you know? You have ruined my prospects, +destroyed my hopes--if I were sentimental, I might say, broken my heart! +Is not that enough for you? For mercy's sake, go your own way +henceforward, and let me do as I please!" + +"But what is your way? What do you please?" + +"Is it well for me to tell you after the warning I have had?" + +"If you had a worthy plan, an honorable ambition, you could easily tell +me. Again I ask, Why are you here?" + +"Yes, why?" repeated Florence, her lip curling, and, for the first time, +a slight color flushing her pale cheeks. "Why? Your dull wits will not +even compass that, will they? Well, partly because I am a thoroughly +worldly woman, or rather a woman of the world--because it is not well to +give up a good home, a luxurious life, and a large salary, when they are +to be had for the asking--because as Enid Vane's governess, I can have +as much freedom and as little work as I choose. Is not that answer +enough for you?" + +"No," said Hubert doggedly, "it is not." + +She shrugged her graceful shoulders. + +"It should be, I think. But I will go on. I look three-and-twenty, but +you know as well as I do that I am twenty-nine. In another year I shall +be thirty--horrible thought! An attack of illness, even a little more +trouble, such as this that I have lately undergone, will make me look my +full age. Do you know what that means to a woman?" She pressed her +eyelids and the hollows beneath her eyes with her fingers. "When I look +in the glass, I see already what I shall be when I am forty. I must make +the best of my youth and of my good looks. You spoiled one chance in +life for me; I must make what I can of the other." + +"You mean," said the young man, with white dry lips, which he vainly +attempted to moisten as he spoke--"you mean--that you must make what the +world calls a good marriage?" + +She bowed her head. + +"At last you have grasped my meaning," she said coldly; "you have +hitherto been exceedingly slow to do so." + +He looked at her silently for a moment or two, almost with abhorrence. +Her fair and delicate beauty affected him with a sort of loathing; he +could not believe that this woman with the cold lips and malignant eyes +had been born of his mother, had played with him in childhood, had +kissed him with loving kisses, and spoken to him in sisterly caressing +fashion. It took him some minutes to conquer the terrible hatred which +grew up within him towards her, as he remembered all that she had been +and all that she had done; but, when at last he was able to speak, his +voice was calm and studiously gentle. + +"Florence," he said, "I will not forget that you are my sister. You bear +my name, you come of my race, and, whatever you do and whatever you are, +I cannot desert you. I promised our mother on her death-bed that I would +care for you as long as you needed care; and, if ever you needed it in +your life, you need it now! I have not done my duty to you during the +past few weeks. I have left you to yourself, and thought I could never +forgive you for what you had done. But now I see that I was wrong. If it +would be of any service to you, I would make a home for you at once--I +would place all my means at your disposal. Come back with me to London, +and let us make a home for ourselves together. We are both weary, both +have suffered; could we not try to console and strengthen each other?" + +The wistfulness of his tone, of his looks, would have softened any heart +that was not hard as stone. But Florence Lepel's pale face was utterly +unmoved. + +"You offer me a brilliant lot," she said--"to live in a garret, I +suppose, and darn your stockings, while you earn a paltry pittance as a +literary man, eked out by aunt Leo's charity! You know very well that +sooner than do that I put up for two years with Marion Vane's patronage +and the drudgery of the schoolroom! And now, when the woman who +alternately scolded and cajoled me, the woman who once took it upon her +to lecture me for my behavior to her husband, the woman whom I hated as +I should hate a poisonous snake--when that woman is slowly dying and +leaving the field to me, am I to throw up the game, give up my chances, +and go to vegetate with you in London? You know me very little if you +think I would do that." + +"I seem to have known you very little all my life," said Hubert +bitterly. "I certainly do not understand you now. What can you get by +staying here?" + +"Oh, nothing, of course!" she answered tranquilly. + +"What is your scheme, Florence?" + +"It is of no use telling you--you might interfere again." + +The anguish of doubt and anxiety in his dark eyes, if she had looked at +him, would surely have moved her. But she did not look. + +"I mean to stay here," she said quietly, "teaching Enid Vane, putting up +with aunt Leonora's impertinences as well as I can, until I get another +chance in the world. What that chance may be of course I cannot tell, +but I am certain that it will come." + +"You can bear to stay in this house which I--I--infinitely less +blameworthy than yourself--can hardly endure to enter?" + +"The world would not call you less blameworthy. I am glad that you are +so far on good terms with your conscience." + +"Florence," he said, almost threateningly, "take care! I will not spare +you another time. If I find you involved in any other transaction of +which you ought to be ashamed, I will expose you. I will tell the world +the truth--that you were on the point of leaving England with Sydney +Vane when I--when I----" + +"When you shot him," she said, without a trace of emotion manifest in +either face or voice, "and let Andrew Westwood bear the blame." + +The young man winced as if he had received a blow. + +"It was to shield you that I kept silence," he said, passionate +agitation showing itself in his manner. "It was to save your good name. +But even for your sake I would not have let the man suffer death. If we +had obtained no reprieve for him, I swear that I would have given myself +up and borne the punishment!" + +"You were at work then? You tried to get the reprieve for him?" said his +sister, with the faintest possible touch of eagerness. + +"I did indeed." Hubert's voice fell into a lower key, as if he were +trying, miserably enough, to justify to himself, rather than to her, +what he had done. "It would be almost useless to confess my own guilt. +It would be thought that I was beside myself. Who would believe +me--unless you--you yourself corroborated my story? The man Westwood was +a poacher, a thief, wretchedly poor and in ill-health; he has no +character to lose, no friends to consider. Besides, he was morally +guiltier than I. I know that he was lying in wait for Sydney Vane; I +know that he had resolved to be revenged on him. Now I--I met my enemy +in fair fight; I did not lie in ambush for him." + +But from the darkness of his countenance it was plain that the young +man's conscience was not deceived by the specious plea that he had set +up for himself. Beneath her drooping eyelids Florence watched him +narrowly. She read him in his weakness, his bitterness of spirit, more +clearly than he could read himself. Suddenly she sat up and leaned +forward so that she could touch him with one of her soft cold hands--her +hands were always cold. + +"Hubert," she said, with a gentle inflection of her voice which took him +by surprise, "I am perhaps not as bad as you think me, dear. I do not +want to quarrel with you--you are my only friend. You have saved me from +worse than death. I will not be ungrateful. I will do exactly as you +wish." + +He looked bewildered, almost dismayed. + +"Do you mean it, Florence?" he asked doubtingly. + +"I do indeed. And, in return, oh, Hubert, will you set my mind at +rest by promising me one thing? You will give me another chance to +retrieve my wasted, ruined life, will you not? You will never tell +to another what you and I know alone? You will still shield +me--from--from--disgrace, Hubert--for our mother's sake?" + +The tears trembled on her lashes; she slipped down from her low chair +and knelt by his side, clasping her hands over his half-reluctant +fingers, appealing to him with voice and look alike; and, in an evil +hour for himself, he promised at any cost to shield her from the +consequences of her folly and his sin. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Oh, you two are here together!" There was a note of surprise in Miss +Vane's voice as she turned the corner of a great group of +foliage-plants, and came upon brother and sister at the open library +window. "I could not tell what had become of either of you. If you have +finished your conversation"--with a sharp glance from Florence's wet +eyelashes to Hubert's pale agitated face--"I have work for both of you. +Florence, Enid has been alone all the morning; do take the child for a +walk and let her have a little fresh air! And I want you to go for a +stroll with me, Hubert; the General is sleeping quietly, and I have two +or three things to consult you about before I go up to Marion." + +The sudden gleam in Florence's eyes, quickly as it was concealed, did +not escape Miss Leonora's notice as she moved away. + +"What's the matter with Flossy?" she asked abruptly, stopping to throw +over her head a black-lace scarf which she had been carrying on her arm. +"She has been crying." + +"She feels the trouble that has come upon us all, I suppose," said +Hubert rather awkwardly. He pressed forward a little, so as to hold open +the conservatory door for his aunt. He was glad of the opportunity of +averting his face for a moment from the scrutiny of her keen eyes. + +"That is not all," said Miss Vane, as she quitted the great glass-house, +with its wealth of bloom and perfume, for the freshness of the outer +air. She struck straight across the sunny lawn, leaving the house +behind. "That is not all. Come away from the house--I don't want what I +have to say to you to be overheard, and walls have ears sometimes. Your +sister Florence, Hubert, was never remarkable for a very feeling heart. +She is, and always was, the most unsympathetic person I ever knew." + +"She has perhaps greater depth of feeling than we give her credit for," +said Hubert, thinking of certain words that had been said, of certain +scenes on which his eyes had rested in by-gone days. + +"Not she--excuse me! Hubert, I know that she is your sister, and that +men do not like to hear their sisters spoken against; but I must remind +you that Florence lived ten years under my roof, and that a woman is +more likely to understand a girl's nature than a young man." + +"I never pretended to understand Florence," said Hubert helplessly; "she +got beyond me long ago." + +"She is a good deal older than you, my dear, and she has had more +experiences than she would like to have known. How do I know? I only +guess, but I am certain of what I say. She is nine-and-twenty, and she +has been out in the world for the last eight years. There is no telling +what she may not have gone through in that space of time." + +Hubert was dumb--it was not in his power just then to contradict his +aunt's assertions. + +"I would gladly have kept her under the shelter of my roof," said Miss +Vane, pursuing the tenor of her thoughts without much reference to her +listener's condition of mind; "but you know as well as I do that she +refused to live with me after she was twenty-one--would be a governess. +Ugh! Wonder how she liked it?" + +"She seemed to like it very well; she stayed four years in Russia." + +"Yes, and hoped to get married there, but failed. I know Flossy. She +must have mismanaged matters frightfully, for she is an attractive girl. +She went to Scotland then for a year or two, you know, and was engaged +for a time to that young Scotch laird--I never heard why the engagement +was broken off." + +"Why are you deep in these reminiscences, aunt Leonora?" asked Hubert, +with an uneasiness which he tried to conceal by a nervous little laugh. +"I should have thought that you would be absorbed in anxiety for the +General; and, as for me, I want to know what the doctor says about the +dear old boy." + +"I am absorbed in anxiety for him," said Miss Vane decisively; "and that +is just why I am calling these little details of Florence's history to +your mind. As to the General's health, the doctor says that we may be +easier about it now than we have been for many a day. The crisis that we +have been expecting has come and passed, and we may be thankful that he +is no worse. If he keeps quiet, he will be about again in a few days, +and may not have another attack for years." + +"And Marion?" + +"Ah, poor Marion! She is not long for this world, Hubert. I must be back +with her at twelve. Till then the nurse has possession and I am free. +Poor soul! It is a dark ending to what seemed a bright enough life. Her +mind has failed of late as much as her body." + +Hubert could not reply. + +"Sit down here," said Miss Vane, as they reached a rustic seat beneath a +great copper-beech-tree on the farther side of the lawn. "Here we can +see the house and be seen from it; if they want me, they will know where +to find me. I am not speaking at random, Hubert; there is a thing that I +want to say to you about your sister Florence." + +Hubert seated himself at her side with a thrill of positive fear. Had +she some accusation to bring against his sister? He was miserably +conscious that he was quite unprepared to defend her against any +accusation whatsoever. + +"What I mean first of all to say," Miss Vane proceeded, looking straight +before her at the house, "is that Florence is a girl of an unusual +character. She looks very mild and meek, but she is not mild and meek at +all. Most girls are, on the whole, affectionate and well-principled and +timid; Flossy is not one of the three." + +"You are surely hard on her!" + +"No, I am not. Long ago I made up my mind that she wanted to get +married; that is nothing--every girl of her disposition wants more or +less to be married. But I came across a piece of information the other +day which made me feel almost glad that poor Sydney's life ended as it +did. There was danger ahead." + +"It is all done with now," said Hubert hurriedly; "why should you rake +up the past? Cannot it be left alone?" + +He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin supported by his +hands, a look of settled gloom upon his face. Miss Vane's eyes flashed. + +"You know what I mean then?" she said sharply. + +Hubert started into an upright position, crossed his arms, and looked +her imperturbably in the face. + +"I have not the slightest idea of what you are going to say." + +"You know something, nevertheless," said Miss Vane, with equal +composure. "Well, I don't ask you to betray your sister. I only wish to +mention that, in looking over my brother Sydney's papers the other day, +I came across a letter from Florence which I consider extremely +compromising. It was written from Scotland while she was still engaged +to that young laird, but it showed plainly that some sort of +understanding subsisted between her and Sydney Vane. They must have met +several times without the knowledge of any other member of our family; +and it seems that she proffered her services to Marion as Enid's +governess at his instigation. What do you think of that?" + +"I think," said Hubert deliberately, "that Florence has always proved +herself something of a plotter, and that the letter shows that she was +scheming to get a good situation. You can't possibly make anything more +out of it, aunt Leonora"--with a stormy glance. "I think you had better +not try." + +Miss Vane sat for a moment or two in deep meditation. + +"Well," she said at length, "that may be true, and I may be an old fool. +Perhaps I ought not to betray the girl to her brother either; but----" + +"Oh, say the worst and get it over, by all means!" said Hubert +desperately, "Out with your accusation, if you have any to make!" + +Leonora Vane studied his face for a minute or two before replying. She +did not like the withered paleness about his mouth, the look of +suffering that was so evident in his haggard eyes. + +"It is hardly an accusation, Hubert," she said, with sudden gentleness. +"I mean that I believe that she was in love--as far as a girl of her +disposition can be in love--with my brother Sydney. I need not tell you +how I have come to think so. In the first hours of our great loss she +betrayed herself. To me only--you need not be afraid that she would ever +wear her heart upon her sleeve, but to me she did betray her secret. +Whether Sydney returned her affection or not I am not quite sure--for +his wife's sake, I hope not." + +Again she looked keenly at her young kinsman; but he, with his eyes +fixed upon the ground and his lips compressed, did not seem disposed to +make any remark on what she had said. + +"I felt sorry for the girl," Miss Vane went on, "although I despised her +weakness in yielding to an affection for a married man. Still I thought +that her folly had brought its own punishment, and that I ought not to +be hard on her. Otherwise I should have recommended her to leave +Sydney's daughter alone, and get a situation in another house. I wish I +had. I cannot express too strongly to you, Hubert, how much I now wish I +had!" + +"Why?" + +"I misunderstood her," said his cousin slowly. "I thought that she had a +heart, and that she was grieving--innocently perhaps--over Sydney's +death." + +"Well, was she not?" + +"I don't think so. If she ever cared for him at all, it was because she +wanted the ease and luxury that he could give her. For, if she cared for +him, Hubert--I put it to you as a matter of probability--could she +immediately after his death begin to plan a marriage with somebody +else?" + +Hubert looked up at last, with a startled expression upon his face. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean, my dear boy, that your sister Florence now wants to marry the +General." + +In spite of his distress of mind, Hubert could not stifle a short laugh. + +"Aunt Leonora, you are romancing! This is really too much!" + +"I should not mention it to you if I had not good reason," said Miss +Vane, with a series of mysterious nods. "I have sharp eyes, Hubert, and +can see as far as most people. I repeat it--Florence wants to marry the +General." + +"She will not do that." + +"I am not sure--if she is left here when I am gone. I must go back to +London at some time or other, I suppose. But it won't do to leave Flossy +in possession." + +"She would not think of staying, surely, if----" + +"If poor Marion died? Yes, she would. Believe me, I know what I am +saying. I have watched her manner to him for the last few weeks, and I +feel sure of it. She has her own ends in view." + +"I have no doubt of that," said Hubert, rather bitterly. "But what are +we to do?" + +"Let our wits work against hers," replied Miss Vane briskly. "If poor +Marion dies, we must suggest to the General that Enid should go to +school. In that way we may get Florence out of the house without a +scene. But--mark my words, Hubert--she will not go until she is forced. +She is my second cousin once removed and your sister, but for all that +she is a scheming unprincipled intriguer and adventuress, who has never +brought and never will bring good to any house in which she lives. You +may try to get her away to London if you like, but you'll never +succeed." + +"I have tried already; I thought that she would be better with me," said +Hubert. "But it was of no use." + +"You offered her a home? You are a good fellow, Hubert! You have always +been a good brother to Florence, and I honor you for it," said Miss Vane +heartily. + +"Don't say so, aunt Leo; I'm not worth it," said the young man, starting +up and walking two or three paces from her, then returning to her side. +"I only wish that I could do more for her--poor Florence!" + +"Poor Florence indeed!" echoed Miss Vane, with tart significance. "But I +must go, Hubert. See her again, and persuade her, if you can, to leave +Beechfield. Don't tell her what I have said to you. She is suspicious +already and will want to know. Did you notice the look she gave me when +I said that I wished to talk to you? Be on your guard." + +"I shall not have time to talk with her much. I must go back to London +by the four o'clock train." + +"Must you? Well, do your best. See--the blind is drawn up in Marion's +dressing-room--a sign that I am wanted;" and Miss Vane turned towards +the house. + +Hubert's anticipations were verified. Florence was not to be persuaded +by anything that he could say. And, when he begged her to tell him why +she wanted so much to stay at Beechfield, and hinted at the reason that +existed in Miss Leonora's mind, Florence only laughed him to scorn. He +was obliged sorrowfully to confess to Miss Vane, when she walked with +him that afternoon before he set out for London, that he had obtained no +information concerning Flossy's plans, and that he could hope to have no +influence over her movements. + +He had five minutes to spare, and was urging her to walk with him a +little way along the road that led to the nearest railway-station, when +Miss Vane's attention was arrested by two little figures in the middle +of the road. She stopped short, and pointed to them with her parasol. + +"Hubert," she cried, in a voice that was hoarse with dismay, "do you see +that?" + +"I see Enid," said Hubert rather wonderingly. "I suppose she ought not +to be here alone; she must have escaped from Florence. Why are you so +alarmed? She is talking to a beggar-child--that is all." + +Miss Vane pressed his arm with her hand. + +"Are you blind?" she said. "Do you not know to whom she is talking? Can +you bear to see it?" + +"Upon my soul, aunt Leo," said the young man, "I don't know what you +mean!" + +He looked at the scene before him. The white country road stretched in +an undulating line to right and left, its smooth surface mottled with +patches of sunlight and tracts of refreshing shade. A broad margin of +grass on either side, tall hedges of hawthorn and hazel, soothed the eye +that might be wearied with the glare and whiteness of the road. On one +of these grassy margins two children were standing face to face. Hubert +recognised his little cousin Enid Vane, but the other--a sunburnt, +gipsy-looking creature, with unkempt hair and ragged clothes--who could +she be? + +"You were at the trial," Miss Vane whispered to him, in dismayed, +reproachful tones. "Do you not know her? it is no fault of hers, poor +child, of course; and yet it does give me a shock to see poor little +Enid talking in that friendly way with the daughter of her father's +murderer." + +For the child was no other than little Jenny Westwood, whom Hubert had +seen for a few minutes only at her father's trial three weeks before. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Hubert stopped short. If Miss Vane had been looking at him, she would +have seen that his face flushed deeply and then turned very pale. But +she herself, with her gold eye-glasses fixed very firmly on the bridge +of her high nose, was concentrating her whole attention upon the +children. + +"Enid," she called out rather sharply, "what are you doing there? Come +to me." + +Enid turned to her aunt. She was a singularly sensitive looking child, +with lips that paled too rapidly and veins that showed with almost +painful distinctness beneath the soft white skin. Her features were +delicately cut, and gave promise of future beauty, when health should +lend its vivifying touch to the white little face. Her eyes, of a tender +violet-gray, were even now remarkable, and her hair was of rippling +gold. + +Her sombre black dress and the sunshine that poured down upon the spot +where she was standing contributed to the dazzling effect produced by +her golden hair and white skin. There could not have been a greater +contrast than that between her and Andrew Westwood's daughter, upon whom +at that moment Hubert Lepel's eyes were fixed. + +Jenny Westwood, as she was generally called, although her father gave +her a different name, was thinner, browner wilder-looking, than she had +even been before. Miss Vane knew her by sight, but she had imagined that +the child had been taken away from the village by friends, or sent to +the workhouse by the authorities. It was a shock to her to find the +little creature at the park gates of Beechfield Hall. + +Enid did not seem to be embarrassed by her aunt's call. She ran up to +her at once, dragging the ragged child with her by the hand. Her face +was anxious and puzzled. + +"Oh, aunt Leo," she said, "this little girl has nowhere to go to--no +home--no anything!" + +"Let her hand go, Enid!" said aunt Leo, with some severity. "You have no +business to be out here in the road, talking to children whom you know +nothing about." + +Enid shrank a little, but she did not drop the child's hand. + +"But, aunt Leo, she is hungry and----" + +"Were you begging of this young lady?" Miss Vane said magisterially, her +eyes bent full on the ragged girl's dark face. + +But Andrew Westwood's daughter would not speak. + +"I'll talk to her," said Hubert, in a low tone. "You take Enid back to +the house, aunt Leo, and I'll send the child about her business." + +"No, no; you'll miss your train. It is time for you to go. Enid can run +back to the house by herself. Go, Enid!" + +"Why may I not speak to the little girl too?" said Enid wistfully. It +was not often that she was rebellious, but her face worked now as if she +were going to cry. + +"Never mind why--do as I tell you!" cried Miss Vane, who was growing +exasperated by the pain and difficulty of the situation, "I will see +what she wants." + +Enid hesitated for a moment, then flung herself impetuously upon Hubert. + +"Won't you help her?" she said, looking up into his face with sweet +entreaty. "I am sure you will be kind. The poor little girl has had +nothing to eat all day--I asked her. You will be kind to her, for you +are always kind." + +Hubert pressed her to him without speaking for a moment, then answered +gently-- + +"Both your aunt and I will be kind to her and help her, Enid--you may be +sure of that. Now run away home and leave us; we will do all we can." + +For the first time, the little outcast who had excited Enid's pity broke +the silence. + +"I don't want nothing; I wasn't begging, nor meaning to beg. She found +me asleep by the road and asked me if I was hungry--that was all." + +"And she is hungry," said Enid, with passion, "and you don't want me to +help her. You are unkind! Here, little girl--here is my shilling; it's +the only one I've got, and it has a hole in it, but you may have it, and +then you can get yourself something to eat in the village." + +She dashed forward with the coin, eluding a movement of Miss Vane's hand +designed to stop her in her course. The shilling lay in Jenny Westwood's +grimy little hand before the lady could interfere. + +"Don't take it away," Hubert whispered in his aunt's ear; "it will only +make her remember the scene for a longer time." + +"I know," Miss Vane answered grimly; and she stood still. + +Enid turned sorrowfully, half ashamed of her momentary rebellion, +towards the park gate. The other child seemed dazed by the excitement of +the speakers, and only half understood what had been going on. She stood +looking first at the coin in her hand and then at the donor, with a +strange questioning expression on her little brown face. Miss Vane and +Hubert also waited in silence, until Enid was out of hearing. Then, as +if by the same instinct, each drew a long breath and looked doubtfully +at the other and then at the child. + +"You will miss your train," said Miss Leonora. + +"I have done that already; so we may as well find out what brings the +girl here. Why not take her inside the park gates? If any one passes +by----" + +"You are right, Hubert, as usual. Come here, child--come inside for a +minute or two; I want to speak to you." + +The little girl glanced doubtfully at Miss Vane's handsome imperious +face. She seemed inclined to break away from her questioners and run +down the road; but a look from under her long lashes at Hubert seemed to +reassure her. The young man's face had certainly an attractive +quality--there was some sort of passion and pain in it, some mark of a +great struggle which had not been all ignoble; even if he had failed to +win the victory, a look which worked its way into the hearts of many who +would have refused their hands to him in sign of fellowship if they had +known the whole story of his life. This subtle charm had its influence +on little Jenny Westwood, although she had no suspicion of its cause. +She moved a little closer to him, and followed him inside the iron gates +of Beechfield Park. The great trees flung their shade over the broad +drive which ran between mossy banks for a mile before the house was +reached. Between their trunks the sunshine flickered on sheets of +bracken, already turning a little yellow from the heat; the straight +spikes of the foxglove, not yet in bloom, were visible here and there +amongst the undulating forms of the woodland fern. Hubert closed the +gate carefully behind him, and stood with his aunt so as to screen the +child from observation, should friends or acquaintances pass by. He had +a keen perception of the fact that Miss Vane was making an enormous +effort over pride and prejudice and affectionate prepossessions of all +kinds in even speaking a word to Andrew Westwood's child. He himself, in +the troubled depths of his soul, was stirred by a wild rush of pity and +remorse, of sharp unaffected desire to undo what had been done already, +to amend the injury that his hand had wrought--a far greater injury +indeed than he had dreamt of doing. He had always fancied Andrew +Westwood as lonely a man as--in the world's eyes--he was worthless; he +had not known until the day of the trial that the prisoner had a child. + +"Your name is 'Westwood,' I think?" Miss Vane began stonily. + +Hubert was keenly aware of the harshness of her tones. The girl nodded. + +"Your father is Andrew Westwood?" + +She nodded again, a dull red creeping into her brown cheeks. + +"What are you doing here?" There was a tragic intensity of indignation +in Miss Vane's way of putting the question, which Hubert wondered +whether the child could comprehend. "You ought to be far away from +Beechfield--it is the last place to which you should come!" + +The child lowered her face until it was nearly hidden on her breast, and +spoke for the second time. + +"Hadn't nowhere to go," she muttered. + +"Have you no home?" said Miss Vane sternly. + +"Only the cottage down by the pond where father lived. It is all shut up +now." + +"Where have you lived for the last few weeks? I heard that you were in +the workhouse." + +"Yes." Then, evidently with difficulty--"I ran away." + +"Then you were a bad wicked girl to do so," said Miss Vane, with +severity; "and you ought to be sent back again--and well whipped, into +the bargain!" + +Hubert made an impatient movement. He had never seen his aunt so much to +her disadvantage. She was harsh, unwomanly, inhuman. Was it in this way +that every woman would treat the poor child, remembering the story of +her father's crime? + +Miss Vane read the accusation in his eyes. She turned aside with an +abrupt gesture, half of defiance, half of despair. + +"I can't help it, Hubert," she said in an undertone. She raised her +handkerchief to her eyes and dashed away a tear. "I feel it a wrong to +Sydney, to Marion, to the child, that I should try to benefit any of +Westwood's family. I can't bear to speak to her--I can't bear her in my +sight. It makes me ill to see her." + +She covered her eyes with her hand, so that she might not see the ragged +miserable-looking little creature any longer. + +"It would make matters no better if the child were to die of neglect and +starvation at your gates, would it?" said Hubert bitterly. "She must be +got out of Beechfield at any rate; you will never be able to bear seeing +her about the roads--even amongst the workhouse children." + +"No, no, indeed! And Enid--Enid might meet her again!" + +"Go back to the house, aunt Leo," said the young man tenderly, "and +leave her to me. It is too great a strain upon your endurance, I see. I +will take the child to the Rectory; Mrs. Rumbold will know of some home +where she will be taken in--the farther away from Beechfield the +better." + +Miss Vane was unusually agitated. Her face was pale, and her lips moved +nervously; she carefully averted her eyes from the little girl whom she +had undertaken to question. Evidently she was on the verge of a +breakdown. + +"I never was so foolish in my life as I have been to-day. My nerves are +all unstrung," she said, turning her back on little Jenny Westwood. "I +think I'll take your advice, Hubert. Ask Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold, from me, +to see after the child. If they want money, I don't mind supplying it. +But do make them understand that the child must be kept out of +Beechfield." And with these words she walked briskly down the avenue, +without looking back. As she had said, the very sight of Andrew +Westwood's daughter made her ill. + +Hubert turned again towards the girl, wondering whether she had +overheard the conversation, which had been carried on in low tones, and, +if she had overheard it, how much she had understood. He could not find +out from her face. It was not a face that lacked intelligence, but it +was at present sullen and forbidding in expression. The black hair that +hung over her eyes hid her forehead, and gave her a rough, almost a +savage look. + +"You do not want to go back to the workhouse, do you?" Hubert said, +keenly regarding the stubborn face. + +"No--I won't go back." + +"Why not?" + +A hot burning blush sprang to the child's cheeks. + +"They call me names," she said in a low voice. + +"They? Who? And what names?" + +"The other girls, and the mistress too, and the women. They said that my +father's wicked, and that I am wicked too. They say that he is to be +hanged." + +The child suddenly burst out crying; her sobs, loud and unrestrained, +fell painfully on Hubert's ear. + +"I went to the prison to see him, but they would not let me; and then I +came back here." + +She sobbed for a minute or two longer, and then became quiet as suddenly +as she had broken into tears, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and +peering furtively at Hubert between the black fingers. + +"They were wrong," Hubert said at length. "Your father is not dead; he +is not to be hanged at all." He paused before he spoke again. "He is in +prison; he will be in prison for the rest of his life--a life sentence!" + +He spoke rather to himself than to the child. Never had he realised so +fully as at that moment what prison actually meant. To be shut up, away +from friends, away from home, away from the sweet wild woods, the +country air, the summer sun, to labor all day long at some heavy +monotonous task, such as breaks the spirit and the heart of man with its +relentless uniformity of toil--to wear the prison garb, to be known by a +number, as one dead to the ordinary life of men, leaving at the prison +gates that name which would be henceforth only a badge of disgrace to +all who bore it in the outer world--these aspects of Andrew Westwood's +sad case flashed in a moment across Hubert Lepel's mind with a thrill of +intolerable pain. What could he do? Rise up and offer to bear that +terrible punishment himself? It could not be--for Florence's sake, he +told himself, it could not be. And yet--yet---- Would that at the very +beginning he had told the truth, and stood where Andrew Westwood stood, +so that the ruffian and the poacher might not have to bear a doom that +separated him for ever from his only child! + +"Do you mean," said Jenny Westwood slowly, "that father will never come +out of prison any more?" + +"Perhaps--after many years--he may come out." + +"Many years? Three--or five?" + +"More--more, I am afraid, my little girl--perhaps in twenty years--if he +is still alive." + +He scarcely knew what impulse prompted him then to tell her the truth. +He repented it the next moment, for, after a horrified stare into his +face, the child suddenly flung herself down upon the gravelled path and +burst into tears, accompanied by passionate shrieking sobs and wild +convulsive movements of her limbs. + +"He shall come out--he shall come out!" Hubert heard her cry between her +gasps for breath. "He can't do without me. Take me to him, or I shall +die!" + +In utter dismay Hubert tried persuasion, argument, rebuke, for some time +in vain. At last he turned away from her, and began walking up and down +a short stretch of the drive, bitterly regretting the impulse that had +caused him to take the care of this strange child, even for a few +moments, on his hands. But he had promised to get rid of her, and he +must do so, if only for Enid's sake. It would never do to let this +little wild creature go on roaming about the village, asking questions +about her father. And there were better motives at work within the young +man's breast. It seemed to him that he had brought a duty on +himself--that he was at least responsible for Andrew Westwood's forlorn +and neglected child. + +He had not paced the drive for many minutes before the sobs began to +grow fainter. Finally they ceased, and the child drew herself into a +crouching position, with her head resting against the steep mossy bank +just within the gate. Seeing her so quiet, Hubert thought that he might +venture to speak to her again. + +"You must not cry so bitterly," he said, almost as he might have spoken +to a grown-up person, not to a child. + +"Grieving can do your poor father no good. Wait and grow up quickly. He +may come out of prison some day, and want his little daughter. If I take +you to a place where you can be taught to be a good girl, like other +girls, will you stay there?" + +The child raised her head and fixed her dark eyes upon him. + +"Not to the workhouse?" she said apprehensively. + +"I promise you--not to a workhouse, if you will be a good child." + +She scrambled to her feet at once, and, rather to Hubert's surprise, put +one hot and dirty little hand into his own. + +"I will be good," she said briefly; "and I will go wherever you like." + +Nothing seemed easier to her just then. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"But, dear me, Mr. Lepel," said Mrs. Rumbold, "there's no place for a +child like that but the workhouse." + +Hubert stood before the Rector's wife in a pretty little room opening +out upon the Rectory garden. Jenny had been left in the hall, seated on +one of the high-backed wooden chairs, while her protector told his tale. +Mrs. Rumbold--a short, stout, elderly woman with a good-natured smile +irradiating her broad face and kind blue eyes--sat erect in the +basket-chair wherein her portly frame more usually reclined, and +positively gasped as she heard his story. + +"To think of that child's behavior! I assure you, Mr. Lepel, that we +tried to do our duty. We knew how painful it would be for the dear +General and Miss Vane if any member of that wretched man's family were +left in the village, and we thought it simplified matters so much that +there was only one child--didn't we, Alfred?" + +Alfred was the Rector, a tall thin man, very slow in expressing his +ideas, and therefore generally resigning the task of doing so to his +wife's more nimble tongue. On this occasion, unready as usual with a +response, he crossed his legs one over the other, cleared his throat, +and had just prepared to utter the words, "We did indeed, my dear," when +Mrs. Rumbold was off again. + +"Some neighbors took care of her before the trial," she said +confidentially. "Indeed we paid them a small sum for doing so, Mr. +Lepel--we didn't like to send the child to the workhouse before we knew +how matters would turn out. But, when the poor wretched man was +condemned, I said to Alfred,'We really can't let the Smiths be burdened +any longer with Andrew Westwood's child--she must go to the Union!' And +Alfred actually went to Westwood, and asked him if he had any relatives +to whom the child could be sent--didn't you, Alfred?--and, when he said +that there were none, and that the girl might as well be brought up in +the workhouse as anywhere else, for she would always be an outcast like +himself--I quote his very words, Mr. Lepel--his graceless, reckless, +wicked words!--why, then, I just put on my hat and cloak, and I went to +the Smiths at once, and I said, 'Mrs. Smith, I've come to take little +Westwood to the workhouse;' and take her I did that very afternoon." + +"Do you know when she ran away?" Hubert asked. + +Mrs. Rumbold shook her head. + +"I haven't heard. Not more than a day or two ago, I should fancy, for +nobody seems to have been looking for her in this direction. I wonder +she came back to Beechfield, the hardened little thing!" + +"Oh, come, I don't think she is that, Mrs. Rumbold!" said Hubert, +affecting a lightness which assuredly he did not feel. "I fancy that she +wandered back to Beechfield out of love for her father and her old home, +poor child. She is not to be blamed for her father's sins, surely!" he +added, seeing rather an odd expression on Mrs. Rumbold's face as the +involuntary words of pity passed his lips. + +"Oh, no, no--of course not!" Mrs. Rumbold hastened to reply. "It is very +kind of you, Mr. Lepel, and very kind of Miss Vane too, to interest +yourselves in the fate of Andrew Westwood's daughter--very Christian, I +am sure!" + +"I don't know that," said Hubert, somewhat awkwardly. "I fancy that my +cousin simply wishes to get the child away from the place before the +General is well enough to go out again--I suppose he knows her by sight. +It would be painful to him--and little Enid might come to hear." + +"Of course, of course! I quite understand, Mr. Lepel. And the Churton +workhouse is so near Beechfield too!" + +"She shall not go back to the workhouse," said Hubert, with firmness. "I +am resolved on that!" + +"An orphanage, I suppose? Well, we might get her into an orphanage if we +paid a small sum for her; but who would pay? There's the Anglican +Sisterhood at East Winstead--not that I quite approve of Sisterhoods +myself," said Mrs. Rumbold grimly--"but I know that in this case the +Sisters are doing a good work and for a small annual payment----" + +"I don't much like the idea of a Sisterhood. Do you know of a smaller +place--an ordinary school perhaps--where she could be taken in and +clothed and taught and civilised?" + +"No, Mr. Lepel, I don't. You could not send a child like that to a +lady's house without letting the whole story be told; and who would take +her then? In a charitable institution, now, she could be admitted, and +no questions asked." + +"I did not think--I did not exactly want to find a charitable +institution," said Hubert, suddenly seeing that his position would +appear very strange in the Rumbolds' eyes, and yet resolved to stick to +his point. No, whatever happened, "little Westwood," as Mrs. Rumbold +called her, should not be brought up as a "charity-girl." He had an +instinctive understanding of the suffering that the child would endure +if she were not in kindly hands; and he did not think that the +atmosphere of a large semi-public institution would be favorable to her +future welfare. + +Mrs. Rumbold looked at him in open-eyed perplexity. + +"But, Mr. Lepel, what do you want?" + +"I want the child to be happy," Hubert cried, with some vexation--"I +want her to be where she will never be taunted with her father's +position, where she will be kindly treated, and brought up to earn her +own living in a suitable way." + +"Then," said the Rector, startling both his hearers by the ponderous +solemnity of his tones, "send her to Winstead." + +Hubert turned towards him respectfully. + +"You think so, sir?" + +"The Sisters are good women," said Mr. Rumbold. "They love the children +and train them well. I have twice sent orphans from this village to +their care, and in each case I believe that there could not have been a +happier result." + +"You'll be charmed if you go over the house at Winstead, Mr. Lepel," +said Mrs. Rumbold coaxingly. "Do go over and see yourself what it is +like. Such a lovely house, half covered with purple clematis and +Virginia creeper, and a dear little chapel, and beautiful grounds! And +the expense is quite trifling--twelve or sixteen pounds a year, I +believe, for each of the dear little orphans!" + +"If you speak so highly of it, I am sure I may take it on trust," +answered Hubert, with a smile. He was growing weary of the discussion. +"Take the child and do the best for her, will you, Mrs. Rumbold? My +cousin and I will supply all funds that may be needed." + +"I am sure that's very good of you, Mr. Lepel. The child couldn't be +happier anywhere than she will be at Winstead. Alfred will write at once +about it--will you not, Alfred?" + +Alfred bowed assent. + +"I suppose it will take a few days to settle," said Hubert, looking from +one to the other. "In the meantime----" + +"Oh, in the meantime she can stay here!" said Mrs. Rumbold expansively. +"She will be no trouble, poor thing! I can put up a little bed for her +in one of the attics." + +"She's not very clean, I'm afraid, Mrs. Rumbold. She looks exceedingly +black." + +"I expect that the black's all on the surface," said the Rector's wife. +"You needn't laugh, Alfred; Mr. Lepel knows what I mean, I'm sure. The +child's been in the workhouse for more than a fortnight, and has left it +only for the last day or two; she is just dusty and grimy with the heat +and exercise, and will be glad of a bath, poor thing! I'll make her look +beautiful before she goes to Winstead, you'll see." + +"Then I may leave her in your charge? It is exceedingly good of you," +said Hubert, rising to take his leave. "I don't know what I should have +done with her but for you." + +"My dear Mr. Lepel, I am sure the goodness is all on your side!" cried +Mrs. Rumbold. "I should not have thought of a gentleman like you, one of +your family, troubling himself about a ragged miserable child like this +little Westwood girl. I'm sure she ought to be eternally grateful to you +all!" + +"Oh, by-the-bye," said Hubert, turning round as he was nearing the door, +"you have reminded me of something that I may as well mention now, Mrs. +Rumbold! Oblige me by not telling any one that I--we have anything to do +with providing for the child. Do not speak of it to the girl herself or +to any one in the village. And pray do not allude to it in conversation +with my cousins at the Hall!" + +"If you wish it, of course I will not mention it to any one," said Mrs. +Rumbold, bridling a little at what she conceived to be an imputation on +her discretion. "You may trust me, I am sure, Mr. Lepel. We will not +breathe a word." + +"And particularly not a word to the child herself," Hubert said, turning +his eyes upon the Rector's wife with such earnestness in their troubled +depths that she was quite impressed. "I do not wish her to be burdened +with the feeling that she owes anything to us." + +"Oh, Mr. Lepel, how generous, how delicate-minded!" cried the effusive +little woman, throwing up her hands in admiration. "Now I wouldn't have +believed that there was a young man that could be so thoughtful of +others' feelings--I wouldn't indeed, Mr. Hubert! Must you go? Won't you +stay and have dinner with us to-night?" + +"Thank you--no; I am engaged--a dinner in town," said Hubert hastily. "I +will leave you my address"--he produced a card from his pocket-book, and +with it a ten-pound note--"and this will perhaps be useful in getting +clothes and things of that kind for her. If you want more, you will let +me know." + +He escaped with difficulty from Mrs. Rumbold's rapturous expression of +surprise at his liberality, and at last got out into the hall. Andrew +Westwood's little girl was still sitting on the chair where she had been +placed, her hands crossed before her on her lap, her bare feet swinging +idly to and fro, her dark eyes fixed vaguely on the trees and shrubs of +the Rectory garden, which she could see from the hall window. Hubert +paused beside her and spoke. + +"I am going to leave you with this lady--Mrs. Rumbold," he said. "You +know her already, and know that she will be kind to you. You are to go +to a good school, where I hope that you will be happy." + +The child's eyes dilated as she listened to him. + +"Are you going away?" she said. + +"Yes; I am going back to London," the young man answered kindly. "You +will stay here, like a good little girl, won't you?" + +"Do you want me to?" she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead +and gazing at him anxiously. + +"Yes, I do." + +She nodded. "I'll stay," she said curtly. + +And then she lapsed once more into her former state of silence and +sullenness; and Hubert left her with a smile of farewell and a secret +aspiration that he might not see her again; for it seemed to him that he +could never look upon the face of Andrew Westwood's daughter without a +pang. + +He decided to catch the seven o'clock train to London. + +"You'll be late for your engagement, I am afraid," Mrs. Rumbold said to +him; thinking of his excuse for running away. + +He only smiled and nodded as he walked off, by way of reply. His dinner +in town, he knew well enough, would be eaten in solitude at his club. He +had no other engagement; but he would have invented half a hundred +excuses sooner than stay an hour longer than was necessary under General +Vane's hospitable roof. + +He dined silently and expeditiously at his club, and then made his way +through the lighted streets to his lodgings in Bloomsbury. A barrister +by profession, he had found his real vocation in literature, and he +liked to live within easy reach of libraries and newspaper offices. He +had been making a fair income lately, and his earnings were very +acceptable to him, for he was not a man of particularly economical +habits. He had about a hundred a year of his own, and Miss Vane allowed +him another hundred--all else had to be won by the work of his own +hands. And yet, as he passed up the staircase to his own rooms, he was +wondering whether he could not manage to dispense with Miss Vane's +hundred a year. + +He had let himself in with his latch-key, and the room which he entered +was lighted only by the lamps in the street. He had not been expected so +early, and his landlady had forgotten to bring the lamp which he was in +the habit of using. He struck a match and lit the gas, pulled down the +blinds, and threw himself with a heavy sigh into the great leathern +arm-chair that stood before his writing-table. + +He felt mortally tired. The events of the day had been such as would +have tried a strong man's nerve, and Hubert Lepel was at this time out +of sorts, physically as well as mentally. He had seldom gone through +such hours of keen torture as he had borne that day; and his face--pale, +worn, miserable--seemed to have lost all its youth as he lay back in the +great arm-chair and thought of the past. + +He rose at last with an impatient word. + +"It is madness to brood over what cannot be undone," he said to himself. +"I must 'dree my own weird' without a word to any living soul. Florence +has my secret, and I have hers; to her I am bound by a tie that nothing +on earth can break. And I can have no other ties. I am bad enough, +Heaven knows, but I am not so bad as to render myself responsible for +the happiness of a wife, for the welfare of children, for a home! With +this hanging over me, how can I hope for any happiness in life? I am as +much under punishment as poor Westwood in his prison-cell. I have no +rights, no hopes, no love. A life sentence did I say that he had +received? And have I not a life sentence too?" + +He was standing beside his writing-table, and his eyes fell upon a +photograph which had adorned it for the last six months. It represented +a girl's face--a bright, pretty, careless face, with large eyes and +parted smiling lips. For the first time he did not admire it very much; +for the first time he found it a trifle soulless and vapid. + +"Poor Mary," he said, looking at it with a kind of wonder in his +eyes--"what will she say when she finds that I do not go to her father's +house any more? I do not think that she will care very much. She has +seen little enough of me lately! I could not ask her now to link her +fate with mine, poor child! She would hate me if she knew. Best to +forget her, as she will forget me!" + +He took the photograph out of its frame and deliberately tore it across; +then he set himself to reduce it to the smallest possible fragments, +until they lay in a little heap upon his writing-table. His face was +grave and rigid as he performed the task, but it showed little trace of +pain. His fancy for "Mary," the pretty daughter of an old professor, had +taken no deep root. Henceforth it vanished from his life, his memory, +his heart. "Mary," like all his other dreams, was dead to him. + +A knock at the door startled him as he completed his work. A servant +brought in a telegram, which he tore open hastily. As he expected, it +was from Miss Vane. + +"Marion died this evening at seven o'clock, from syncope of the heart. +Funeral on Thursday." + +"Another victim!" Hubert said to himself, laying down the pink paper +with something like a groan. "Am I responsible for this too? A life +sentence, did I say? It would take a hundred lives to compensate for all +the harm that Florence and I have done!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"'Cynthia Westwood'--is that your name?" said Mrs. Rumbold. "Dear me, I +always thought that it was just 'Jane' or 'Jenny!' Wouldn't it be better +to change it, and call her something more appropriate to her station?" + +"Perhaps," said the injudicious Rector, "she may not like to be called +by a name that does not belong to her." + +He was looking at Jenny--or Cynthia, as she had just informed them that +she was called--a transformed and greatly altered Cynthia under Mrs. +Rumbold's management--Cynthia with hair cut short, hands and face +scrupulously clean, a neat but ugly print frock, and a coarse holland +pinafore--a perfectly subdued and uninteresting Cynthia--uninteresting +save for the melancholy beauty of her great dark wistful eyes. + +"What she likes has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Rumbold, rather +sharply. "Besides, she has another name--she told me so +herself--'Cynthia Janet'--that's what she was christened, she tells me. +She can be called 'Jane Wood' at Winstead." + +The Rector looked up in mild surprise. + +"Why not 'Jane Westwood,' my dear? 'Westwood' is her name." + +"She had much better not be known as Westwood's daughter," said Mrs. +Rumbold, with decision, quite heedless of Cynthia's presence. "It will +be against her all her life. I have told Sister Louisa about her, and +she asked me to let her be called 'Wood.' 'Jane Wood' is a nice sensible +name." + +"Well, as you please. You will not mind being called 'Jane,' will you, +my dear?" said the Rector, mindful of the red flush that was creeping +into the little pale cheeks. + +He was a kindly old gentleman, in spite of his slow, absent-minded ways; +and there was a very benevolent light in his eyes as he sat in his +elbow-chair, newspaper on knee, spectacles on nose, and surveyed the +child who had been brought to his study for inspection. + +Mrs. Rumbold fairly lost her patience at the question. + +"How can you ask her such a thing, Alfred? As if it was her business to +mind one way or another! She ought to be thankful that she is so well +taken care of without troubling about her name. 'Jane Wood' is a very +good name indeed, much better than that silly-sounding 'Cynthia'!"--and +Mrs. Rumbold swept the child before her out of the room in a state of +high indignation at the stupidity of all men. + +So Cynthia Westwood--or Jenny Westwood, as the Beechfield people called +her--was transformed into Jane Wood. She did not seem to object to the +change. She was in a dazed, stunned state of mind, in which she +understood only half of what was said to her, and when the scenes and +faces around her made a very slight impression upon her memory. One or +two things stood out clearly from the rest. One was Enid Vane's sweet +childish face, as she thrust her shilling with the hole in it into the +little outcast's hand. Cynthia had carefully hidden the coin away; she +was resolved never to spend it. She took it out and looked at it +sometimes, feeling, though she could not have put her feelings into +words, that it was an actual visible sign of some one's kindness of +heart, of some one's love and pity for her. And the other thing was the +dark melancholy face of the man who had brought her to the Rectory, and +told her to be good for her father's sake. + +She liked to think of his face best of all. It was one that she was sure +she would never forget. She brooded over it with silent adoration, with +a simple faith and confidence in the goodness of its owner, which would +have cut him to the heart if he had ever dreamed of it. He had been kind +to her; that was all she knew. She rewarded him by the devotion of her +whole being. It was surely a great reward for such a little act! She did +not know that it was he who was to pay for her going to school, that it +was he who had rescued her from the degradation of her outcast life. + +Mrs. Rumbold kept her word to Hubert. She talked vaguely in Cynthia's +presence of "kind friends" who were doing "so much" for her; but Cynthia +associated the idea of "kind friends" with that of Mrs. Rumbold herself, +and was not grateful. The child was not old enough, and had been too +much stunned by the various experiences of her little life, to be very +curious. She did not know Mr. Lepel by name, or why he should be at +Beechfield at all. He did not often visit the Vanes, although he saw a +good deal of his aunt Leonora in London. He was quite a stranger to half +the people in the village. + +Also, Cynthia's father, now in prison for the murder of Sydney Vane, had +not lived long in Beechfield, and did not know the history and +relationships of the Squire's family, as natives of Beechfield were +supposed to do. He had been two years in the village, and had rented a +tumbledown ruinous cottage by the side of a marshy pond, which no one +else would occupy. Here he had lived a lonely life, gathering rushes +from the pond and weaving baskets out of them, doing a day's work in the +fields now and then, setting snares for rabbits, trapping foxes, and +killing game--a man suspected by the authorities, shunned by the village +respectabilities, avoided by even those wilder spirits who met at the +"Blue Lion" to talk of bullocks and to drink small-beer. For he was not +of a genial disposition. He was gruff and surly in speech, given neither +to drink nor to conversation--just the sort of man, his neighbors said, +to commit a terrible crime, to revenge himself upon a magistrate who +had once sent him to gaol for poaching, and had threatened to turn him +out of his wretched cottage by the pond. + +And his little girl too--the villagers were indignant at the way in +which Cynthia was brought up. She was seldom seen in the village school, +never at church or in Mrs. Rumbold's Sunday-classes. She was rough, +wild, ignorant. Careful village mothers would not let their children +play with her, and district-visitors went out of their way to avoid +her--for she had been known to fling stones at boys who had come too +near, and she laughed in the faces of people who tried to lecture her. +Jenny Westwood was thus very little in the way of hearing Beechfield +gossip, or she would have known all about Mr. Lepel and his sister, who +acted as Miss Enid's governess, and concerning whose moonlit walks with +Miss Enid's "papa" there had already been a good deal of conversation. +She knew nothing of all this. There was a big house a mile from the +village, and in this big house lived a wicked cruel man who had sent her +father to prison--so much she knew. And her father was now in prison for +killing that wicked man. Why should one not kill the person who injures +one? It did not seem so very terrible to Cynthia. Before her father had +brought her to Beechfield, she remembered, they had travelled a good +deal from place to place; and while they were "on the tramp," as her +father expressed it, she had seen much of the rougher side of life. She +had seen blows given and returned--fighting, violence, bloodshed. She +had a vague idea that, if her father had killed Mr. Vane, it was perhaps +not the first time that he had taken the life of a fellow-man. + +Mrs. Rumbold certainly showed much kindliness and charity in taking this +forlorn little girl into her spotless well-regulated household, even for +a week, until matters were settled with the authorities of the workhouse +which she had quitted and the orphanage to which she was going. The +Rectory servants were indignant at having the society of "a murderer's +child" forced upon them. If she had stayed much longer, they would have +given notice in a body. But fortunately Mrs. Rumbold was able to arrange +matters with the Winstead Sisters very speedily, and the day following +the funeral of Mrs. Sydney Vane--laid to rest beside her husband only +three months after his untimely death--saw Cynthia's little box packed, +and herself, arrayed in neat but very unbecoming garments, conveyed by +Mrs. Rumbold to the charitable precincts of St. Elizabeth's Orphanage at +Winstead, where she was introduced to the black-robed, white-capped +Sisters and a crowd of blue-cloaked children like herself as Jane Wood, +orphan, from the village of Beechfield, in Hants. + +However, Mrs. Rumbold told the whole of Cynthia's story to the Sister in +charge of the Orphanage, a sweet-faced motherly woman, who looked as if +children were dear to her. The one reservation made by the Rector's wife +referred to the person or persons who were to pay the child's expenses. +Their names, she said emphatically, were never to be mentioned. The good +Sister smiled, and thought to herself that the very reservation told its +own story. Of course it was the Vanes who were thus providing for +Cynthia Westwood's continued absence from their village. It was natural +perhaps. + +She noticed that the child showed no sign of sorrow at parting from Mrs. +Rumbold. She looked white, tired, almost stupefied. Sister Louisa took +hold of the little hands, and found them cold and trembling. + +When the Rector's wife was gone, the good woman--"the mother of the +children," as she was sometimes called--drew the little girl to her knee +and kissed her tenderly. It needed very little real affection to call +forth a response in Cynthia's yearning heart. She burst into tears and +buried her face in the mother's ample bosom, won from that moment to all +the claims of love and duty, and a religion of which she as yet had +scarcely heard the name. + +As time went on, Mrs. Rumbold received letters from Sister Louisa +relative to Jane Wood's progress. Jane Wood was, on the whole, a very +satisfactory pupil. She was a girl of strong will and strong passions, +often in disgrace, and yet a universal favorite. She possessed more than +usual ability, and soon caught up with the girls of her own age who had +at first been far in advance of her in class; then she surpassed them, +and began to attract attention; and at the end of two years Mrs. Rumbold +received a letter which perplexed her so sorely, that she sent it at +once to Mr. Hubert Lepel, who was still living a bachelor-life in +London. + +The letter, from Sister Louisa, was to the effect that Jane Wood, the +girl from Beechfield, had developed a great talent for music, and seemed +very superior to the station of domestic service for which she had been +designed. The Sister received twenty or thirty boarders--daughters of +gentlemen for the most part, for whom ordinary terms were paid--in +addition to the orphans; these girls of a superior class were educated +by the Sisters, and often remained at St. Elizabeth's until they were +eighteen or nineteen. If the amount paid for Jane Wood could be +increased to forty pounds a year, the Sisters proposed to educate her as +a governess; with her talent for music and other accomplishments, they +were quite sure that the girl would turn out a credit to her kind +patrons and patronesses, as well as to St. Elizabeth's. + +Mr. Lepel sent back an answer by return of post. Jane Wood--he knew her +by no other Christian name--was to have every advantage the good sisters +could give her. If she had talents, they were to be cultivated. When she +was old enough to be placed out in the world to earn her own living, his +allowance would of course cease; till then, and while she wanted help, +her friends would provide for her. + +"So Westwood's child is to be made a lady of!" said Mrs. Rumbold, laying +down the letter with a sense of virtuous indignation. "Well, I hope that +Mr. Lepel won't repent it. I wonder what Miss Vane thinks of it?" + +But Miss Vane had never even heard the name of Jane Wood. + +Hubert Lepel was gradually achieving literary success. But the road to +success is often stony and beset with thorns and briars. His name was +becoming known as that of a writer of popular fiction; he had a play in +hand of which people prognosticated great things. For all these reasons +he was much too busy to give any special attention to the affairs of the +child at St. Elizabeth's School. He agreed to Sister Louisa's +proposition, and sent money for the girl's education--that was all that +he could do. And so another year went by, and then another, and he heard +nothing more about Jane Wood. + +But at the close of a London season, when town was emptying fast and the +air was becoming exhausted, and everybody who had a chance of going into +the country was sighing to be off, it occurred to Hubert Lepel to +wonder how the child that he had befriended was progressing. It took +little time for him to make up his mind that he would go down to +Winstead and see the school, which was quite a show-place and had been a +great deal talked about. A card and a line from a clerical friend would +introduce him, and his literary work gave him an excuse for wishing to +inspect the institution. It would be supposed that he meant to write an +article upon it. He did not intend to say why he had come. + +The building occupied by the Sisters of St. Elizabeth was certainly +beautiful and picturesque. Hubert remembered with a half smile the +enthusiastic praise that Mrs. Rumbold had bestowed upon it. The chapel, +an exquisite little gem of Gothic architecture, stood in the centre, +flanked by two long gray wings appropriated to the school-girls and +their teachers, the Orphanage and the Sisterhood. St. Elizabeth's was +becoming quite a noted school for girls, especially among persons of +High Anglican proclivities; and in surveying the lovely buildings, the +exquisitely-kept grounds, the smooth lawns and shrubberies which met his +eyes. Hubert could not but acknowledge that the outer appearance of the +place was all that could be desired. The school buildings were swathed +in purple clematis and roses; there was a pleasant hum of voices, even +of laughter, from some of the deep mullioned windows; and he saw a host +of children sporting on the lawn in the distance. The scene was bright, +peaceful, and joyous. Hubert Lepel felt a momentary thrill of relief; he +had done well for Westwood's child--he need not reproach himself on that +score. + +A portress with a rosy smiling face admitted him into a visitors' room, +a small but cosy place, with vases of flowers on the table, sacred +pictures and a black-and-white crucifix on the yellow-washed walls. Here +a Sister clad in conventual garb came to inquire his business. The +stillness of the house, the unfamiliar aspect of the women's dresses, +reminded Hubert of some French and Flemish Romanist convents which he +had visited abroad. He was charmed with the likeness. It was something, +he said to himself, to find such serenity, such sweet placidity of life, +possible in the very midst of nineteenth-century England, with all her +turmoil and bustle and distraction. He did not discuss with himself the +question as to whether the life led by the inmates of these retreats +was wholesome or agreeable; it was simply on the aesthetic side that its +aspect pleased him. He could fancy himself for a moment in the depths of +a foreign land or far back in remote mediaeval times. + +Could he see the buildings, the church, the school, the orphanage? Oh, +certainly! Sister Agnes, who had come to him, would be pleased to show +him everything. + +She was very pleasant in manner, and he had no difficulty in obtaining +from her any amount of information about the institution. It seemed that +he had by chance come on a festival day, and every one was making +holiday. The children were all out in the fields or the garden; he could +see their schoolrooms and dormitories and refectory. They were all +rather bare, exquisitely clean and airy, full of the most recent +improvements as regarded educational appliances. + +"This is the Orphanage building," Sister Agnes explained. "We do not +generally show the class-rooms belonging to the other school; but, as +all the ladies are out, you may see them if you like." + +So Hubert peeped into the rooms, occupied by the girl-boarders, who were +on a very different footing from the orphans, and whose surroundings, +though simple, were almost elegant in their simplicity. The furniture +was of good artistic design, the windows were emblazoned in jewel-like +colors, the proportions of the rooms were stately as those of an Oxford +college hall. Hubert smiled a little at the picture of Westwood's ragged +daughter amidst all this magnificence. + +Last of all he was shown the chapel, the most beautiful building of the +place, and on this day in particular largely decorated with the choicest +flowers. + +As they were coming out, a bell began to ring, and presently they met a +procession of school-girls, all dressed alike in white frocks and broad +hats, on their way to some afternoon service of prayer and praise. +Hubert scanned their faces heedfully as they passed by, but he could not +find one amongst them that reminded him of the thin little countenance, +the gipsy eyes of the convict Westwood's child. + +He could not resist the temptation to ask a question. + +"Have you not here," he said, "a girl called Jane Wood?" + +Sister Agnes gazed at him in astonishment, and the tears suddenly rushed +into her eyes. + +"Do you know anything of Jane Wood?" she cried excitedly. "Oh, you ask +for her at a very critical time! She has been with us four years, and we +loved her as our own child; but she ran away from us two days ago, and +we have not seen her since!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"What do you mean?" said Hubert, starting in his turn. "The girl gone?" + +Sister Agnes was in tears already. + +"Let me fetch Sister Louisa or the Reverend Mother to you?" she cried. +"They know all about it--as far as anybody can know anything. You--you +are one of her friends, perhaps? Oh, the dear child--and we loved her so +dearly!" + +Hubert was looking pale and stern. He had stopped short on the gravelled +pathway, half-way between the chapel and the entrance to the school. The +beauty, the interest of the place was lost upon him at once. He cared +only to hear what had become of the child whom he had fondly imagined +himself to be benefiting. If she had been unhappy, if she had run away +into the wide world on account of ill-treatment by her teachers and +fellow-pupils, was he not to blame? He ought to have come to the place +before and made inquiries, not left her fate to the light words of Mrs. +Rumbold or some unknown Sister Louisa. He had made himself responsible +for her education; was he not in some sort responsible for her happiness +as well? + +These questionings made his face look very dark and grave as he stood +once more in the visitors' room, awaiting the arrival of the lady whom +Sister Agnes had called Sister Louisa, and whose letters to Mrs. Rumbold +he remembered that he had read. + +He felt himself prejudiced against her before she arrived; but, when he +saw her, he was compelled to own that she had a very attractive +countenance. The face itself, framed in its setting of white and black, +was long and pale, but beautiful by reason of its sweetness of +expression; the gray eyes were full of tenderness, yet full of grief. +There were marks of tears upon her face--the only one that the visitor +had seen that was at all dolorous; and yet, noting her serene brow and +gentle lips, Hubert, man of the world as he was, and more ready to cavil +and despise than to admire, said to himself that, if any woman could +make a young girl love her, surely this woman would not fail! + +"You wish," she said, "to ask some questions about our pupil Jane Wood?" + +"I do indeed. I am very much surprised to hear that she has left you." + +"May I ask whether you have any authority from our friend Mrs. Rumbold +to inquire?" + +"Mrs. Rumbold takes her authority from me," said Hubert quietly. + +Then, as the Sister looked at him with a little uncertainty in her mild +gray eyes, he felt in his pocket and drew out a pocket-book. + +"I think I have a letter here from Mrs. Rumbold which will establish my +claim to make inquiries. It is a mere chance that I have not destroyed +it, but it is here, and will serve as my credentials perhaps." + +Sister Louisa took the letter from his hand and looked at it. It was the +one which Mrs. Rumbold had written to Mr. Lepel when she had heard of +Jane Wood's talent for music and other accomplishments from "the mother +of the children" herself. + +The good Sister smiled sadly as she gave it back. + +"I see now who you are, Mr. Lepel. You are really this poor child's +great friend and helper." + +"I am acting for my family, of course," said Hubert, a little stiffly. +"The girl has naturally no right to expect anything from us; but we were +sorry for her desolate portion." + +"Yes, poor child--she has a hard lot to bear." + +If Hubert was stung by this asseveration, he did not show it. + +"I always heard that she was very happy here," he said. + +"And so she was--or so she seemed to be," said Sister Louisa, with +energy. "She was a great favorite, always at the top of the classes, +always full of life and spirit, always bright and engaging. Poor Janie! +To think that she should have left us in this way!" + +"Why did she leave you, and how?" + +"Mr. Lepel," said the Sister, "if I tell you that our Janie had a fault, +you won't think hardly of her or of us? A girl of fifteen is not often +perfect, and we are sometimes obliged to reprove, even to punish, those +under our charge; and yet I assure you there was not a person in the +house, woman or child, who did not love poor Janie." + +"I am to understand, then, that she was under punishment?" + +Sister Louisa shook her head slightly and sighed. She felt that it was +difficult to make this young man of the world understand that girls of +fifteen were sometimes exceedingly trying to their elders and superiors; +but she would do her best. + +"Janie was very affectionate," she said, "but passionate in temper, and +obstinate when thwarted. She had a curious amount of pride--much more +than one usually finds in so young a girl or one of her extraction. Her +high spirits too were a snare to her. She was reproved three days ago +for laughing aloud in a chapel; and, as she showed an unsubmissive +spirit, she was sent into a room alone in order to meditate. Into this +room one of our lay Sisters went by accident, not knowing that Jane Wood +was there for seclusion, and began to talk to her. This young woman, +Martha by name, came from the neighborhood of Beechfield, and happened +to mention Mrs. Rumbold." + +"Ah, I see!" Hubert exclaimed involuntarily. + +"Jane questioned her about the place--questioned her particularly, I +believe, about a gentleman that she remembered. I think, Mr. Lepel, that +she must have been thinking of yourself, according to the description +that Martha tells us she gave of him; but Martha could not tell her your +name, which it seems the child did not know. It was natural perhaps that +Martha should pass on to the subject of that tragedy at Beechfield--the +murder of Mr. Sydney Vane and the fate of the murderer." + +Sister Louisa paused for a moment--it seemed to her that the young man's +dark handsome face had turned exceedingly pale. He was leaning against +the wall, close to the window; he moved aside a little, as he did not +wish her to see his face, and begged her to proceed with her story. She +went on. + +"Martha's tale at this point becomes confused; either she is not sure +of what she said or is reluctant to repeat it. Some slur, some +imputation was no doubt thrown upon the name of Janie's father; and I +believe that she thought that Martha knew her story and was insulting +her. At any rate, the whole establishment was roused by the sound of +screams proceeding from the room. We rushed thither, and found Martha +crouching in a corner, shrieking hysterically, and declaring that Miss +Wood was going to murder her; while Janie--poor Janie----" + +"I can imagine it," said Hubert, in a low tone; while Sister Louisa +paused for breath--and perhaps to recover the calmness that she had +lost. + +"Our poor Janie," proceeded the kind-hearted woman, "was like one who +had gone mad. She was white as death, her eyes were flaming, her hands +clenched; but all that she seemed able to say were the words, 'My father +was innocent--innocent--innocent!' I should think that she repeated the +words a hundred times. Greatly to our sorrow, Mr. Lepel, the whole story +then came out. We could not silence either Martha or poor Janie--who, I +really think, did not know what she was saying. In spite of our efforts +to keep the matter quiet, in a very short time the whole house--Sisters, +boarders, servants--all knew Jane Wood's sad history." + +She noted the rigid lines about Mr. Lepel's mouth as he stepped forward +from the window and spoke in a low stern tone. + +"Was it impossible to prevent? It seems incredible to me. I +hope"--almost savagely--"that you have punished for her extraordinary +folly the woman who did the mischief?" + +"She has been sent away," said Sister Louisa sadly; "but her punishment +has not mended matters, Mr. Lepel. The excitement in the school was +immense--unprecedented. We felt that it would be incumbent upon us to +send Janie away for a time--until the story was to some extent +forgotten." + +"And you told her so? Women have hearts of stone!" cried Hubert. He +forgot that his conduct had not hitherto proved that his own was very +soft. + +"I hope that we were not unkind to her," said Sister Louisa, with gentle +dignity. "It was to be for a time only. We wanted her to go down to +Leicestershire with two of our Sisters for a few weeks; we thought it +advisable that she should have a change. The Reverend Mother herself +mentioned the plan to her. I noticed that she changed color very much +when it was proposed. She made one of her sharp speeches--quite in her +old way, 'I see--I am not good enough to associate with the other +girls,' she said. We told her that it was no such thing--that we loved +her as much as ever--that it was only for her own good that she was to +leave St. Elizabeth's for a time; but I am afraid that it was all of no +avail. She listened to what we said with a face of stone. And in the +morning--in the morning, Mr. Lepel, we found that she was gone." + +"Gone! Without the knowledge of any of you?" + +"Entirely. She must have stolen out in the middle of the night when +every one was asleep. It is a wonder that no one heard her; but she is +very light-footed and very nimble. She must have climbed the garden +fence. She had left a folded piece of paper on her bed--it was a note +for me." + +"May I see it?" said Hubert eagerly. + +Sifter Louisa drew it from among the folds of her long black robes. He +turned away from her while he read the few blurred hastily-written lines +in which Janie said good-bye to the woman whom she had loved. He did not +want Sister Louisa to see his face. He was more touched by her story +than he liked to show. + +"Dearest Mother Louisa," Janie had written, in her unformed girlish +hand--"Don't be more angry and grieved than you can help! If they had +all been like you, I would have stayed. But everyone will despise me +now. I shall go to some place where nobody knows me, and earn my own +living. Please forgive me! I do love you and St. Elizabeth's very much; +but I must go away--I must! I can't bear to stay now that everybody +knows all about me. I shall change my name, so you need not look for +me." + +The letter was simply signed "Janie"--nothing more. Robert handed it +back to its owner with a grave word of thanks. + +"How is it," he said, "that I did not hear of her leaving you before I +came to Winstead? Mrs. Rumbold is supposed to give me information of +anything of importance respecting the girl. I have not had a word from +her." + +"Nor have we, although we wrote and telegraphed at once. I am afraid +that she is away from home. We did not know your address, or that you +were interested in her." + +"Of course not. I kept that matter to myself," said Hubert gloomily. "It +seems that it was foolish of me to do so. May I ask what steps you have +taken to discover the poor child?" + +The Sisters, he found, had not been remiss in their endeavors. They had +placed themselves in communication with a London detective; they had +consulted the local police; they had made inquiries at railway stations +and roadside inns. But as yet they had heard nothing of the fugitive. +The girl was strong and active, a good walker and runner; it seemed +pretty evident that she had not gone by train or by ordinary roads. She +must have plunged into the fields and taken a cross-country route in +some direction. Probably she had gone to London; and in London she was +tolerably safe from pursuit. + +"Had she money?" Hubert asked of Sister Louisa. + +"Not a penny." + +"She will be driven back to you by hunger." + +"I am afraid not. She was too proud to return to us of her own free +will." + +"Is she good-looking?" + +"No, I think not," said the Sister, a little doubtfully. "She was tall +for her age, thin and unformed; she had a brown skin and hair cut short +like a boy's. Her eyes were beautiful--large and dark; but she was too +pale and awkward-looking to be pretty. When she had a color--oh, then it +was a different matter!" + +Hubert took away with him a full description of Jane Wood's clothes and +probable appearance, and on reaching London went straight to the office +of a private detective. To this man he told as much of Jane's story as +was necessary, and declared himself ready to spend any reasonable amount +of money so long as there was a possibility of finding the lost girl. +The detective was not very hopeful of success; the runaway had already +had two days' start--enough for a complete change of identity. Probably +she had put on boy's clothes and was lurking about the streets of +London. + +"But she had no money!" Hubert urged. + +"She'll get some somehow," the detective answered quietly. + +For some days and weeks Hubert lived in a fever of suspense. He had set +his heart on finding the girl and sending her back to St. +Elizabeth's--or elsewhere. Some kind of home must be secured to her. For +the sake of his own peace of mind, he must know that she was safe. He +could not forgive Mrs. Rumbold for having been absent in Switzerland +when Sister Louisa wrote to her of Jane Wood's flight, and thus being +unable to inform him of it immediately. He had an unreasonable +conviction that, if he had known at once of Janie's disappearance, he +would have succeeded in tracking her. But for this opinion he really had +no ground at all. + +So days and weeks and months went on, and brought with them the +conviction that the girl was lost for ever. Nothing was heard of her +either at Winstead or at Beechfield, and Hubert Lepel was obliged at +last to acknowledge that all his efforts had been in vain. The girl +refused to be benefited any longer; the wild blood in her veins had +asserted itself; she was probably leading the outcast life from which he +thought that he had rescued her; she had gone down on the tide of +poverty and vice and crime which floods the London streets. He shuddered +sometimes when he thought of it. He haunted the doors of theatres, the +courts and alleys of East London, looking sombrely for a face which he +would not have known if he had seen it. He fancied that Andrew +Westwood's daughter would bear her history in her eyes--the great dark +eyes that he remembered as her sole beauty when she was a child. + +It was a mad fancy, born of his desire to atone for a wrong that he had +done to an innocent man. The wrong seemed greater than ever when it +darkened the life of a weak young girl and tortured the heart of the +innocent man's own child. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Eight years had passed away since the tragedy that brought the little +village of Beechfield into luckless notoriety. During those eight years +what changes had taken place! Even at quiet rustic Beechfield many +things had come to pass. Old Mr. Rumbold had been gathered to his +fathers, and Mrs. Rumbold had gone to live with friends in London. The +new Rector was young, energetic, good-looking, and unmarried. At the +Hall there were changes too. Enid Vane had grown from a delicate child +into a lovely girl of seventeen. The house was no longer chill and +desolate--brightness seemed to have come back to it with her growth--a +brightness which even the General, saddened as he had been by his +brother's death, could not resist. He had taken his own way of +contributing to the cheerfulness of the Hall. Six months after Mrs. +Sydney Vane's death he had married Florence Lepel, as Miss Vane had +predicted that he would, and a little boy of five years old was now +running about the Hall gardens and calling the General "father." The old +man positively adored this little lad, and believed him to be +perfection. He was fond of Enid and of his wife, but he doated on the +child. He seemed indeed to love him more than did the mother of the boy. +Florence Lepel was not perhaps of a very loving disposition, but it was +remarkable that she apparently almost disliked little Dick. She never +petted or fondled the child--sometimes she rebuked him very angrily. And +yet he was docile, sweet-tempered, and quick-witted, though not +particularly handsome; but Florence had never liked children, and she +made her own son no exception to the rule. + +Eight years had changed Florence very little in outward appearance. She +was still pale, slender, graceful--languid in manner, slow in speech, +and given to the reading of French novels. But there were dark shades +beneath her velvety brown eyes, as if she suffered from ill-health. She +had taken to lying on a sofa a great deal; she did not visit much, and +she seldom allowed any festivity at the Hall. She remained in her +boudoir for the greater part of the day, with the rose-colored blinds +down, and the doors carefully closed and curtained to exclude any sound +of the outer world; and while she was up-stairs the General and his +niece Enid and the boy had the house to themselves, and enjoyed their +liberty extremely. In the afternoon Mrs. Vane would be found in her +drawing-room, ready for visitors; but she generally returned to her +boudoir for a rest before dinner, and steadily see her face against late +hours in the evening. Nobody knew what was the matter with her; some +people spoke vaguely of her "nerves," of the extreme delicacy and +sensitiveness of her organisation--some said that Beechfield did not +suit her, and others whispered that she had never been "quite right" +since her baby was born. At any rate, she was a semi-invalid; and she +did not seem to know what was the matter with her any more than did +other people. She sat in her luxurious lounging-chair, or lay on the +softest of sofas, day after day without complaint, always pale, silent, +graceful--an habitual smile, sweet and weary, upon her pinched lips, but +no smile in her eyes, where a fire sometimes glowed which seemed to be +burning her very life away. + +One balmy September afternoon she had established herself rather earlier +than usual in the drawing-room. A bright little fire burned in the +polished steel grate--for Florence was always chilly--but the windows +were open; a faint breeze from the terrace swept into the room and moved +the lace curtains gently to and fro. The blinds were half drawn down, so +that the room was not very light; the shadowed perfumed atmosphere was +grateful after the brightness of the autumn afternoon. + +Florence Vane sat in a low arm-chair near the fire. She had a small +table beside her, on which stood her dainty work-basket, half full of +colored silks, her embroidery patterns, a novel, a gold vinaigrette, and +a French fan. She had cushions at her back, a footstool for her feet, a +soft white shawl on her shoulders. It was very plain that she liked to +make herself comfortable. She wore a gown of pale blue silk embroidered +in silver--a most artistic garment, which suited her to perfection, and +which was as soft and luxurious as the rest of her surroundings. The +white cat which lay curled up on the rug at her feet could not have +looked more at her ease. + +In a chair opposite to her sat a man of rather more than thirty, who +looked thirty-five or even forty when the little light from the +curtained windows fell upon his dark face, and showed the gray threads +that were beginning to appear in his moustache. If he had been a woman, +he would have sat with his back to the window, as Florence was doing +now. But Hubert Lepel was not at all the man to think about his +appearance, or to regret the fact, if he did think about it, that he +looked more than his age. He had found it rather an advantage to him +during the last few years. + +Florence had not seen him for some time, and she commented silently and +acutely on the change in his appearance. He had a subtle face, she +thought--keen, stern, sardonic--too deeply furrowed for a man of his +years, too haggard to be exactly handsome, but certainly very +interesting, especially to the mind of a woman who had seen little of +the world. This was as it should be. She smiled to herself; she was a +born plotter, and she had a scheme for Hubert's benefit now. It was only +fair that he should partake of the good fortune that had fallen to her +lot. + +"It was kind of you to come," she was saying languidly, "for I know that +you don't care for Beechfield." + +"No," he said; "I prefer London on the whole." + +"And foreign travel. It is quite extraordinary to think how little you +have been in England for the last few years! I have not seen you +for--how long, Hubert?" + +"Three years, I believe." + +"And then only for an hour or two in London, at intervals of six months! +I hope that you are going to be a little more sociable now, and run down +to see us occasionally." + +The brother and sister looked at each other steadily for a moment +without speaking. Each knew well enough what was in the other's mind. + +"Yes," said Hubert at last, in a peculiarly light and careless voice, "I +think I shall." He crossed his legs, and settled himself into an easier +position in his chair. "Beechfield is not a bad place to stay at for a +few days--or even a few weeks--now and then. And you seem very +comfortable, Florence." + +"Yes," she said, "I am comfortable. The General is very kind." + +"And you have a fine boy--a nice little chap," said Hubert, still +lightly. + +"Yes; he is a healthy child," she answered, in the mechanical way in +which she had spoken before. + +Hubert gave her a keen glance. He looked at the long but not ungraceful +lines of her slender figure, at the blue veins which showed themselves +in the dead white of her hands, at the shade beneath her eyes, and +knitted his brows a trifle impatiently. Then he spoke in lowered tones +which betrayed some suppressed emotion. + +"You have gained all that you wanted," he said--"you ought to be +satisfied." + +She stirred a little in her chair, and allowed a faint smile to appear +upon her lips. + +"And you," she said, "are a very successful man. How many nights did +your last play run? You are popular; you have made money; you ought to +be satisfied too." + +Each knew that the other was not satisfied at all, each knew the cause +of that silent dissatisfaction with what life had to give. + +"I am satisfied," said the man grimly. + +It was the tone that said, "I will be satisfied in spite of fate! In +spite of my own actions, my own sin, my own remorse, I will be +satisfied!" + +"You have changed your note," said Florence, regarding him curiously. + +"And not too soon," he answered decisively. "There is nothing so useless +as sorrowing over the past and regretting what cannot be undone. Let me +recommend my philosophy of life to you. Make the best of what remains; +we cannot bring back what we have cast away." There was a new hardness +in his tone--not of recklessness, but of unflinching determination. He +rose and stood on the hearthrug, with his hands behind him as he spoke. +"I have taken a new departure. I have wasted many hours of the past. I +am resolved to waste not one hour in future. 'Though much is taken, much +remains,' as the poet says; and you and I, Florence, have all to look +for in the future and nothing in the past." + +"That is true," she said, in a very low tone. "Nothing in the past!" +Then she sat up, as if stirred to movement by his attitude, and looked +at him again. "What has caused this change of mind, Hubert? Have you +fallen in love?" + +He uttered a short laugh. + +"Not I--I don't know the sensation." + +"You knew it a few years ago, when I thought you would marry pretty Mary +Marsden." + +"She married a Jew money-lender," said Hubert drily. "I saw her the +other day--she weighs fourteen stone, I should think!" + +"Poor little Mary! It is not love then?" + +"No, it is not." He was silent a minute or two, pulling his moustache +with a quick nervous movement which betrayed some agitation of mind. +Then he said quickly, "I had better tell you something and get it over, +though I have no wish to rake up the memory of unpleasant subjects. I +heard a few months ago that the man Westwood was dead." + +"Dead? At Portland?" + +"Yes. An accident on the works where he was engaged. He died after a few +hours' unconsciousness." + +Florence meditated for a few moments and then said softly-- + +"I think that I now understand." + +"It will be better that we do not speak of the matter again," said +Hubert, in the masterful way which she was beginning to recognise as one +of his characteristics. "It is all over and done with; nothing we can +say or do will make any difference. The man is gone, and we are here. We +can begin a new life if we choose." + +His sister watched him with eyes which expressed a greater gloom than he +was able to understand. Her hands began to tremble as he said the last +few words. + +"You can--you can!" she cried, almost with vehemence. "But for me--there +is no new life for me!"--and covering her face with her hands, she began +to weep, not violently, but so that he saw the tears oozing from between +her slender fingers. + +Hubert stood aghast. Was this trembling woman the cold imperturbable +sister whom he had known of old? He had seldom seen Florence shed tears, +even in her youthful days. Was it the consciousness of her past guilt +that had changed her thus? + +He reflected that, according to all tradition, a woman's nature was more +sensitive and delicate than that of a man. Florence was weighed down +perhaps by that sense of remorse which he had well-nigh forgotten. He +had, as he had said, resolved to put the past behind him and to lead a +new life. She, a woman, with all a woman's weakness, found it a +difficult task to forgive herself the misery that she had caused; and +he, the only person who could understand and sympathise with her, who +might have strengthened her in her struggle against evil--for such he +considered must be the cause of her distress--he had neglected her, and +been perhaps a source of pain instead of encouragement. He should have +remembered that her guilt was surely not greater than his own. + +Softened by these thoughts, he bent down to place his hand on her +shoulder and to kiss her forehead. + +"My poor Flossy," he said, using the old pet name as he had used it for +many weary years, "you must not grieve now! Forget the past--we can but +leave it to Heaven. There is nothing--absolutely nothing now--that we +can do." + +"No," she said, letting her hands fall upon her lap and wearily +submitting to his kiss--"nothing for you--nothing at all for you--now." + +There was a deep meaning in her words to which he had not the slightest +clue. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Hubert Lepel had accepted his sister's invitation to Beechfield Hall for +two nights only; but, as he had given her to understand, he was quite +ready to come again, supposing of course that she made his visit +agreeable to him. So far--an hour and a half after his first arrival--it +had not been very agreeable. He had been obliged to allude to a matter +which was highly unpleasant to him, and he had had to stand by while his +sister burst into quite unnecessary and incomprehensible tears. He was +not so soft-hearted a man as he had been eight years ago, and he told +himself impatiently that he could not stand much more of this kind of +thing. + +For the last three years he had been, as Florence had said, almost +always out of England. When his search for Jane Wood proved a failure, +he had taken a strong dislike for a time to London life and London ways. +He had been making money by his literary work, and was well able to +afford himself a little recreation. He went to Egypt therefore, and to +India, took a look at China and Japan, and came home by way of South +America. He did not care to go too much in beaten tracks; and during his +absence he wrote a book or two which were fairly successful, and a play +which made a great sensation. He had come back to London now, and was at +work upon another play, on which great hopes had been founded. If it +were as successful as the first, there was every likelihood of his +becoming a rich man. He had got his head fairly above water, and meant +to keep it there; he conceived that he had brooded too long over the +past. + +He had seen little Dick Vane when he first arrived, and he had spent +nearly two hours with Florence; but he had not yet encountered the +General or the General's niece and adopted daughter, Enid Vane. The two +had gone out riding, and did not return until after five o'clock. + +"Just in time for tea!" said the General, in a tone of profound +satisfaction. "I thought that we were later. And how do you find +yourself, Hubert, my dear boy? Why, I declare I shouldn't have known +you! Should you, Enid? He is as brown as a Hindoo." + +"Would you have known me?" said Hubert, with a smile at the girl who had +followed her uncle into the room, and now gave him her hand by way of +greeting. The smile was forced in order to conceal a momentary twitch of +his features, which he could not quite control at the first sight of +Sydney Vane's daughter; but it looked natural enough. + +The girl raised her eyes to his face with a shy sweet smile. + +"I am afraid that I don't remember very well," she said; and Hubert +thought that he had never seen anything much prettier than her smile. + +She was seventeen, and looked so fair, so delicate, in her almost +childish loveliness of outline and expression, that Florence's white +skin became haggard and hard in comparison. Her slight figure was +displayed to full advantage by a well-made riding-habit, and under her +correct little high hat her golden hair shone like sunshine. There was a +soft color in her cheeks, a freshness on her smiling lips, that made the +observer long to kiss them, as if they belonged to some simple child. +Her manner too was almost that of a child--frank, naive, direct, and +unembarrassed; but in her eyes there lurked a shadow which contradicted +the innocent simplicity of her expressive countenance. If was not a +shadow of evil, but of sadness, of a subdued melancholy--the sadness of +a girl whose life had been darkened in early life by some undeserved +calamity. It was a look that redeemed her face from the charge of +inanimateness that might otherwise have been brought against it, and +gave it that faintly sombre touch which was especially fascinating to a +man like Hubert Lepel. + +He continued to talk to the General, who had questions to ask him +concerning his travels and his friends; but his eyes followed the +movements of the girl as she stepped quietly about the room, pouring out +tea for one, carrying cake and biscuits to another. Twice he sprang up +to assist her, but was met with a smile and a shake of the head from +her, and the assurance from her uncle that Enid liked waiting on +people--he need not try to take her vocation from her. He had to sit +down again, and thought, half against his will, of that other +Enid--Tennyson's Enid, in her faded gown--and of Prince Geraint's desire +to kiss the dainty thumb "that crossed the trencher as she set it down." +He at least was no Geraint, he said to himself, to win this gentle +maiden's heart. But he watched her nevertheless, with a growing +admiration which was not a little dangerous. + +With a faint cynical smile Florence noted the direction of his eyes. As +soon as her husband and his niece entered the room, she had lapsed into +the graceful indolent silence which seemed habitual to her. Enid brought +her a cup of tea, and ministered to her wants with assiduity and +gentleness of manner, though, as Hubert thought, with no great show of +affection; and Florence accepted the girl's attentions with perfect +equanimity and a caressing word of two of thanks. And yet Hubert +fancied--he knew not why--that there was no look of love in Flossy's +drooping eyes. + +"Please may I come in?" said Master Dick's small treble at the door. He +was a fair, blue-eyed little fellow, but not much like either his father +or his mother, thought Hubert, as the child stood in the doorway and +looked rather doubtfully into the room. + +Florence's brow contracted for a moment. + +"Why are you not having your nursery-tea?" she said. "We do not want you +here unless we send for you." + +"I want to see uncle Hubert," persisted the boy stolidly. + +Hubert held out his hand to him with a smile that children still found +winning. + +"Come in, little man," he said. "I want to see you too." + +Dick marched in at once, still, however, keeping an eye fixed upon his +mother. There was something almost like fear in the look; and it was +noticeable that neither the General nor Enid spoke to invite him into +the room. + +"You may come in," Florence said at last, very coldly--almost as one +might speak to a grown person whom one had strong reason to +dislike--"but you cannot stay more than five minutes. You are not wanted +here." + +"Oh, come, I think we all want him!" said Hubert good-humoredly. "I wish +to make my nephew's acquaintance, at any rate. I have something for him +in my portmanteau up-stairs." + +Florence made a sudden and, as it seemed, involuntary gesture, and +knocked down a vase of flowers on the table at her right hand. There was +some confusion in consequence, as the flowers had to be gathered up and +the fragments of the broken vase collected, so that Hubert had little +opportunity of talking to his nephew. And, as soon as "the fuss," as he +mentally called it, was over, Mrs. Vane said, in her coldest, slowest +voice-- + +"Now, Dick, you may go to the nursery. Say good-night." + +"Good-night?" questioned Hubert. "Why, he does not go to bed at this +hour in the afternoon, does he?" + +"He goes at half-past six or seven," replied Florence. "Pray do not +interfere with nursery regulations, my dear Hubert." + +"I shall see more of him to-morrow, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling at +the child's wistful face as he went from one to another to say +good-night. + +Little Dick's eyes lit up at once, but the light in them died out when, +on tip-toe, as if afraid of disturbing her, he approached his mother. +Hubert thought that there was a touch of something odd in the manner of +everyone present, and was glad to see that Enid's kisses and whispered +words of endearment brought a flush of pleasure to the child's delicate +cheeks before he turned away. + +The General then took possession of the visitor and marched him off to +look at the stables. The old man had recovered all his old cheeriness +and heartiness of manner; there was a little more feebleness in his gait +than there used to be, and he walked with a stick, but Hubert was +pleased to see that his eyes were bright, and to find him loquaciously +inclined. The shock of Sydney's death had not seriously affected him, +and Hubert was conscious of a thrill of relief at the sight of his +evident health and happiness. Considering that Mr. Lepel believed +himself to have closed his heart against the past, he was singularly +open to attacks of painful memory. He was annoyed by his own readiness +to be hurt, and almost wished that he had not come to Beechfield. + +He saw neither of the ladies again till dinner time, when he thought +that Enid looked even lovelier in her simple white frock than in her +riding-habit. He observed her a good deal at dinner, and made up his +mind that she was the very model of an ideal heroine--sweet, gentle, +pure-minded, intelligent--all that a fresh young English girl should be. +The type did not attract him greatly; but it was just as well to study +so perfect a specimen when he had one at hand; he wanted to introduce a +girl of this sort into his next novel, and he preferred portraiture to +mere invention. He would keep the novel in mind when he talked to her; +it would perhaps prevent any dwelling on unpleasant subjects--for, oh, +how like the girl's eyes were to those of her dear father! + +So he sat by the piano after dinner while Enid played dreamy melodies, +that soothed the General into slumber, and then he persuaded her to walk +with him in the moonlight on the terrace, and talked to her of his +strange adventures in foreign lands until the child thought that she had +never heard anything half so wonderful before. And, as they passed and +repassed the windows, they were watched by Florence Vane with eyes that +gleamed beneath her heavy eyelids, with the narrow intentness of the +emerald orbs belonging to her favorite white cat. She had never looked +more as if she were silently following some malevolent design, than when +she watched the couple on the terrace on that moonlit night. + +Enid very quickly made friends with Mr. Lepel--so quickly indeed that +she was led to confide some of her most private opinions to him before +he had been much more than twenty-four hours at Beechfield Hall. It was +anent little Dick and his mother that the first confidence took place. + +The whole party had been having tea under the great beech-tree on the +lawn, and after a time Enid and Hubert were left alone by the others. +They chatted gaily together, he answering her eager questions about +London and Paris and Berlin, she catechising him with an eagerness which +amused and interested him. Presently they saw Dick running towards them +across the lawn. A white figure at one of the windows on the terrace, a +call to the boy, and Dick's wild career was arrested. He stood still for +a moment, then turned slowly towards the house, breaking into a childish +wail of grief as he did so. Hubert stopped short in the sentence that he +was addressing to his young cousin, and looked after the boy. + +"What is the matter with the poor little chap?" he asked. + +Enid's eyes were fixed anxiously upon the window where the white figure +had appeared. + +"Florence called him," she said, in a very small voice. + +"And why should the fact of his mother's calling him make him cry?" + +"Florence thinks it best to be strict," said Enid, still with unnatural +firmness of manner. "He is running away from his nurse now, I know; and +I suppose he will be sent to bed directly after tea for doing so--as he +was yesterday." + +"Was he? Poor little beggar! Was that the reason why he looked so +miserable and you were all so solemn? What had he done?" + +"He came into the drawing-room without permission. He was let off very +easily because you were there, but I have known his mother punish him +severely for doing so." + +"But, good heavens," said Hubert, rising from his seat, and leaning +against the trunk of the beech-tree, while he looked down at Enid with +an expression of utter perplexity, "why on earth should the child have +so little freedom; and why should Florence be so hard on him? She must +be altered! She was never fond of children, but she was too indolent to +be severe. Was not that your experience of her when you were a child?" + +"Yes," said Enid, but too hesitatingly to give Hubert all the assurance +that he wished for--"yes; she did not take much trouble about what I +did. It is different with her own child." + +"Surely she loves her own child better than she loved other +children--better even than you!" said Hubert, with the soft intonation +that turned the words into a compliment. "It is natural in a mother." + +"One would think so," said the girl. Then, as if moved by a sudden +impulse, she spoke hurriedly, with her beautiful eyes full of tears. +"Oh, cousin Hubert"--it was thus that she had addressed him ever since +her babyhood--"do not think that I am unkind to Florence--I do not mean +it unkindly--but it does seem sometimes as if she really hated her +little boy! Poor little Dick has never known what it is to have a +mother's love. I am so sorry for him! I know what it is to be +motherless." Hubert averted his face, and gazed into the distance. "I +have lived many years without either father or mother," said the girl, +in a tone the simple pathos of which seemed to pierce her hearer's +heart, "but at any rate I remember what it was to have their love." + +She wondered why Hubert stood motionless and irresponsive; it was not +like him to be so silent when an appeal was made to his sympathy. She +colored rosy red, with the instinctive fear that she had gone too far, +had said something of which he did not approve, and she tried, in her +naive unconsciousness of ill, to put the matter straight. + +"But I have been very happy," she said earnestly. "Florence has always +been kind, and dear mamma herself could not have done more for me. It is +only that she seems cold and severe with Dick---- Dear cousin Hubert, I +hope you are not angry with me for saying what I have said about your +sister?" + +He was obliged to look at her when she addressed him thus directly. She +was surprised by the expression of pain--bitter humiliating pain--upon +his face. Was it sympathy for her loss, she wondered, or grief for +little Dick's position, or distress at her accusation of Florence that +caused his face to wear that look of positive anguish? She could not +tell. + +"Angry?" he said, stretching out his hand and laying it tenderly on her +own, while the pain in his eyes softened into a melancholy as +inscrutable as the pain. "Could I ever be angry with you, Enid? Poor +little lonely motherless child! Heaven knows, if I could protect you +from sorrow or pain henceforth, I would do so at the cost of my life!" + +He withdrew his hand and walked away somewhat abruptly, without once +looking round. Enid remained where he had left her, pale with emotion, +overpowered by a feeling that was neither joy nor fear, but which +partook of both. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Hubert felt that he had been betrayed into displaying an excess of +emotion very foreign to the character of the cynic and the worldling +which he was desirous to assume. Circumstances, he told himself, had +been too strong for him. Even at the price of not making a study for a +novel of poor little Enid's personality--and how could he ever seriously +have thought of such a thing?--he must not risk close intercourse with +her. Her innocent allusions to the past, her guileless confidence in +himself, wrung his heart with shame and dismay. When he left her, he +wandered away to the other side of the sheet of water in front of the +house, until he came to a small fir plantation on the side of the hill +which rose from the water's edge. He had not been there for years, and +yet he had not forgotten a single turning in the narrow pathway that ran +deviously between the fir-tree shrubs; the memory of the little open +glade in the centre of the tiny wood had never lost its terrible +distinctness. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see every +detail of the scene, every branch of the fir-trees against the darkening +sky, every rise or depression in the mossy ground. The very scent of the +woods gave him a sickening sensation; the crunch of a broken twig made +him turn pale with the horror of a quick remembrance. For it was in the +fir-wood that Sydney Vane had been found murdered--it was in the +fir-wood that Hubert Lepel had first felt that his hand was red with his +cousin's blood. + +He had not at first felt all the horror of his deed. He told himself +again and again that he had been justified in what he did. He had +punished a man for a base and craven act; he had challenged him and met +him in fair fight. By all the laws of honor he considered himself +justified. It was better that Marion Vane's heart should be broken by +her husband's death than by the news that he had deserted her. It was +better that Enid should think of her father as a saint and martyr, than +as a profligate whose hand no honest man or woman would care to hold. +Hubert Lepel sternly told himself that he had done good and not evil in +ridding the earth of a thoroughly bad man like Sydney Vane. If he might +have avowed the deed and its motive, he felt that he could almost have +gloried in it; but how to confess what he had done? At the first moment +of all he had refrained, in terrible fear of implicating Florence, not +knowing how far she would be mistress of herself; then, when he saw that +she was well able to defend her own reputation and that he might confess +the truth without bringing in her name at all--why, then he hesitated, +and found that his courage had deserted him. Florence entreated him to +conceal his act. He remembered that Sydney Vane had almost forced him to +use weapons--a course which Hubert himself would never have suggested; +and it was fatally easy to let things take their course. He hoped, in +his youthful ignorance of the laws of circumstantial evidence, that the +jury would bring in a verdict of suicide. When this hope was destroyed, +he still thought that the matter would be left a mystery--so many +mysteries were never cleared up at all! He did not think that any one +else could possibly be suspected. He was horrified when suspicion fell +upon Andrew Westwood, a poacher who had been vowing vengeance on Sydney +Vane for the past three months. + +To the very end of the trial he hoped that Westwood would be acquitted. +When he had been condemned, Hubert vowed to himself that at any rate no +man should suffer death in his place. If no reprieve could be obtained, +no commutation of the sentence, he would speak out and set Andrew +Westwood free. The message of mercy came only just in time. He was on +the very point of delivering himself up to justice when news arrived +that Westwood's death sentence had been commuted to one of imprisonment +for life. Did that make things any better? Hubert thought that it did. +And his heart failed him--he could not bear the thought of public +disgrace, condemnation, punishment. He knew himself to be a coward and a +villain, and yet he could not bring himself to tell the truth. When Miss +Vane accused him of heartlessness because he explained his pallor by +saying that he had spent the previous evening with friends, he was in +reality suffering from the depression consequent on several nights of +sleepless agony of mind. He was not silent for his own sake alone. He +was afraid of implicating Flossy, the woman to whom Sydney Vane had +proposed love, and about whom he had quarrelled with her brother. It was +Flossy's share in the matter that sealed his lips; and from the moment +of his conversation with Florence at the library window his mind was +made up. He had gone too far to draw back--Andrew Westwood must bear his +fate. Lifelong imprisonment scarcely seemed more terrible to Hubert +Lepel just then than the life sentence of remorse which he had brought +on his own head. + +Since those days his heart had grown harder. He had resolved to +forget--to fight down the secret consciousness of guilt which pursued +him night and day--to live his own life, in spite of the haunting sense +that he had sacrificed all that was good and noble in himself, all that +really made life worth having. He was striving hard, as he said to +Florence, to cast the past behind him, to live as if he were what he had +been before he bore about with him the shadow of a crime. + +But, in the very first endeavor which Hubert Lepel made to act as if the +past were done away with, he was brought face to face with it again, and +made to feel as he had seldom felt before, that he had wronged not only +those who were dead, but those who were living--for he had let Florence +become the wife of a man, the mother of a child, whom she did not love, +and he had left the girl whom his own hand had made fatherless to +Florence's care. As to Westwood's child, she was in a worse case than +Enid Vane, for she was not only orphaned but homeless perhaps, and lost +to all that was good and pure. + +He thought of this as he stood in the fir-wood, surveying the scene +where the suddenly-improvised duel had taken place; and, as the memory +of it grew upon him, he cast himself down on the mossy ground and sobbed +aloud. He had not shed a tear for years, and such as came now were few +and painful and bitter as gall; but they would not be repressed. It was +strange, even to himself, that he should be so beaten down by a little +thing--a child's simple words about her mother, a moment's loneliness in +the wood where her father had met his death. The world would not have +recognised him, the cold, subtle, polished, keen-witted _flaneur_, the +witty man of letters, critic, traveller, playwright, novelist, all in +one, in that crushed figure beneath the firs, with head bowed down, +hands clutched in agony, muscular frame shaken by the violence of +convulsive sobs. The convicted sinner, the penitent, had nothing in +common with Hubert Lepel, as known to the world at large. + +Presently he came to himself a little and sat up, with his hands clasped +round his knees. Some strange thoughts visited him in those quiet +moments. What if he gave up the attempt to brave life out? What if he +acknowledged the truth and cleared poor Westwood's name? England would +ring from end to end with horror at his baseness. What of that if, by +confessing, he could lay to rest the terrors that at time took a hold of +his guilty soul--terrors, not of death, nor of what comes after +death--terrors of life and of the doom of baseness reserved for the soul +that will be base, the gradual declension of heart and mind for the man +who said, "Evil be thou my good?" He was not one who could bear as yet +to think of moral death without a shiver. He had fallen, he had sinned; +but, for his misery and his punishment, his soul was not yet dead. What +then if he should give himself up to justice after all? It seemed to +him, in that moment of solitude, that only by so doing could he regain +the freedom of mind, the peace of conscience which he had now forfeited, +perhaps for evermore. + +He sat thinking of the possibilities of life opening out before him, and +decided that he could give them up without a pang. But there were +persons to be thought of beside himself. To his relatives, to the +relatives of the murdered man, the discovery of the truth would be a +terrible shock. There was no person--except that missing girl, of whom +he dared scarcely think--who could benefit by the clearing of Andrew +Westwood's name. The only gain that would accrue from his confession +would be, he considered, a subjective gain to himself. Abstract justice +would be done, no doubt, and Westwood's character would be cleared; but +that was all. He ought to have spoken earlier if he meant to do good by +speaking. Confession, he said to himself would be self-indulgence now. + +Hubert Lepel was wonderfully well versed, in subtle turns of +argument--in casuistry of the abstruser kind. It was long since he had +looked truth full in the face or drawn a sharp boundary-line between +right and wrong. Not easy to him was it to get back from the varying +lights and shadows of self-deception to the radiant sunshine of truth. +With bitter remorse in his heart and a strangely passionate wish to +do--now at least--the right, he yet decided to bear the burden of +silence until his dying day--to say no word, to do no act, that should +ever revive in others' minds the memory of the Beechfield tragedy. He +was not naturally callous, and he knew that concealment of the truth +would be, as it had always been, an oppression, a weary weight upon him; +but he had made up his mind that it must be so. + +"Moralists tell us never to do evil that good may come," he murmured to +himself, with head bowed upon his knees; "but surely in this case, when +it is not--not altogether my own good that I seek, a little evil may be +pardoned, a little wrong condoned! Heaven forgive me! If I have sinned, +I think that I have suffered too!" + +He lifted up his head at last, and saw the red light of sunset burning +between the upright stems of the fir-trees, stealing with strange +crimson tints amongst the yellowing bracken and umber drift of +pine-needles, scarcely touching, however, the black shades of the +foliage overhead. With a sudden shiver Hubert rose to his feet. It +seemed to him that the red light looked like blood. He turned hastily to +go; he had lingered too long, had excited his own emotions too keenly. +He resolved that he would never visit the lonely fir-wood again. He +wondered why it had stood so long. If he had been the General, he would +have had the trees hewn down after the trial, and done away with every +memento of the place. + +When he escaped from the shadow of the wood, and saw the red sun setting +behind the hills, sending long level beams over the tranquil meadows, +and bathing field and grove and highway-road alike in ruddy golden +light, he drew a long breath of relief. And yet he felt that he was not +quite the same man that had entered the wood an hour before. The +foundations of his soul had been shaken; he had made a resolve; he +looked at life from a new standpoint. The half-defiant determination to +make the best of the future which he had announced to his sister was +purged of its defiance. He would make the best of his future--yes. But +for this purpose he would injure no man or woman henceforward; he would +work with less selfishness of aim--for the good of the world at large as +well as for himself. Something seemed broken in him by that lonely hour +in the wood--some hardness, some coldness of temper was swept away. To +him perhaps Tennyson's words respecting Lancelot were applicable still-- + + "So groaned Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain, + Not knowing he should die a holy man." + +Far enough from anything like holiness was Hubert Lepel, but a nobler +life was possible to him yet. + +Florence commented that evening on his pale and wearied countenance, but +he smiled at her questions, and would not allow that anything ailed him. +He sat by her side for the greater part of the evening. It was as well, +he thought, to be chary of Enid's companionship. She was so sweet, so +frank, that she beguiled him into imprudent frankness in return. He +would not sit beside her at the piano therefore, or walk with her upon +the terrace, although she looked prettier than ever, with a new wistful +light in her blue eyes, a rose-flush upon her delicate cheeks. He knew +that she was disappointed when he did not come; no matter--the child +must not look on him as anything but a casual acquaintance who had +spoken a few rash words of compliment which it were idle to take too +seriously; and he would stay with Florence. + +"Enid looks well to-night," said his sister, in her soft careless tones. +"She is a pretty little thing when in good health." + +"Is she delicate?" Hubert asked, in some surprise. + +"She has nervous attacks; she has had them at intervals ever since she +was nine years old." Nine years old--the date of her father's death!--as +Hubert knew. "At first we thought they were of an epileptic kind; but +the doctors say that they are purely nervous, and will cease when she is +older and stronger." + +Hubert inquired no further. The subject was disagreeable to him, +inasmuch as it connected Enid's health with her parent's fate and his +sister's disastrous influence upon the family. It was always a matter of +keen regret to him that he had not been able to hinder Florence's +marriage, which she had prudently made a matter of secrecy until it was +too late for the General's friends to interfere. Her calm appropriation +of the position which she had secured, and, above all, the +pseudo-maternal way in which she spoke of Enid, irritated Hubert almost +beyond endurance. + +He went back to London on the following day, promising to return to +Beechfield Hall before long. For some reason or other he felt eager to +get away--the air of the place seemed to excite his sensibilities +unduly, he told himself. It struck him afterwards that Enid looked very +pale and downcast when she bade him good-bye. He took his leave of her +hurriedly, feeling as if he did not like to look her full in the face. +He was afraid, that if he looked, he would be only too sure of what he +guessed--that her eyes were full of tears. He was almost glad that a +speedy return to London was incumbent upon him. He had next day to +superintend the rehearsal of his new play, which was shortly to be +produced at one of the smaller theatres; and as soon as he reached his +apartments he was immersed in business of every kind. + +The next morning's rehearsal was followed by luncheon with friends, and +attendance at a _matinee_ given for the benefit of the widow and +children of an actor--a performance at which Hubert thought it well to +be present, although he invariably bemoaned the loss of time. The piece +was not over until six o'clock, and he amused himself afterwards by +going behind the scenes, and chatting with some of his acquaintances +among actors, actresses, managers, and critics. Thus it was nearly seven +before he issued from the theatre, in a street off the Strand, and the +day was already drawing to a close. The lamps were lighted and a fog was +gathering, through which their beams assumed a yellow and unnatural +intensity. Hubert stood on the edge of the pavement, leisurely drawing +on his gloves and looking out for a hansom, contrasting meanwhile the +glories of the Strand with those of the autumn woods in Hampshire, when +his attention was arrested by the sound of a woman's voice. + +"If you please, Mr. Lepel, may I speak to you?" + +He turned round hastily, and, after a moment's hesitation, recognised +the girl who had addressed him as a young actress whom he had lately +come to know. She had been playing a very small part in the comedy +which he had just seen. He vaguely remembered having heard her +name--she was known on the bills as Miss Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Hubert raised his hat courteously. + +"Good evening, Miss West. Of course you may speak to me!" he said. "Can +I do anything for you?" + +"Yes," answered the girl with a quickness which sounded abrupt, but +which, as could easily be seen, was born of shyness and not of +incivility. "You can get me an engagement if you like, Mr. Lepel; and I +wish you would." + +Hubert laughed, not thinking that she was in earnest, and surveyed her +critically. + +"You will not have much difficulty in getting one for yourself, I should +think," he said. + +Miss West colored and drew back rather haughtily. It was evident that +she did not like remarks of a personal bearing, although Mr. Lepel had +spoken only as he would have thought himself licensed to speak to girls +of her profession, who are generally open to such compliments--and +indeed she was not very likely to escape compliments. As he looked at +her in the light of the gas-lamps before the theatre, Hubert Lepel +became gradually aware that there stood before him one of the most +beautiful women he had ever seen. + +She was tall--nearly as tall as himself--but so finely proportioned that +she gave the impression of less height than she really possessed. Every +movement of her lithe limbs was full of grace; she was slender without +being thin, and lissom as an untrained beautiful creature of the woods. +In after-days, when Hubert knew her better, he used to compare her to a +young panther for grace and freedom of motion. It was a pleasure to +watch her walk, although her step was longer and freer than to Enid +Vane's teachers would have seemed desirable. Her features were perfectly +cut; the broad forehead, the straight nose, the curved lips and +slightly-puckered chin were of the type recognised as purely Greek, and +the complexion and eyes accompanying these features were rich in the +coloring that glows upon the canvases of Murillo and Velasquez. The skin +was of a creamy brown, heightened by a carmine tint in the oval cheeks; +the eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, with long black lashes and +well-defined black brows. It seemed somehow to Hubert as if those eyes +were familiar to him, but he could not recollect how or why. For the +rest, Miss Cynthia West was a very well-dressed, stylish-looking young +woman, neither fast nor shabby in her mode of attire; and the things +that she wore served--intentionally or not--to set off her good looks to +the best advantage. Hubert had seen her several times off and on the +stage during the past few weeks since his return to England; she took +none but minor parts, but was so remarkably handsome that she had begun +to attract remark. He was a little surprised by her speech to him, and +hardly thought she could be in earnest. In fact, he suspected her of a +mere desire to attract his attention. + +"I thought you were at the Frivolity?" he said. + +"I have left the Frivolity," she answered abruptly. "This afternoon's +engagement is the only one I have had for a fortnight; and I have +nothing in prospect." + +He gave her a keener look, and in spite of her brave bearing and her +dainty clothes, he thought he perceived a slight pinching of the +delicate features, a dark shade beneath the eyes which--if he remembered +rightly--had not been there two months before. Was it possible that the +girl was really in want? Could he put his hand into his pocket and offer +her money? He might make the attempt at any rate. + +"Can I be of any use to you--in this way?" he began, inserting two +fingers into his waistcoat-pocket in a sufficiently significant manner. + +He was aware of his mistake the next moment. An indignant flush spread +over the girl's whole face; her eyes expressed such hurt surprise that +Mr. Lepel felt rather ashamed of his suggestion. + +"I did not ask you for money," said Miss West; "I asked if you could get +me something to do." Then she turned away with a gesture which Hubert +took for one of mere petulance, though the feeling that actuated it +bordered more nearly on despair. "Oh," she said with a quick nervous +irritation audible in her tone, "I thought that you would +understand!"--and her beautiful dark eyes swam in tears. + +They were still standing on the pavement, and at that moment two or +three passers-by shouldered Hubert somewhat roughly, and stared at the +girl to whom he was speaking. Hubert placed himself at her side. + +"Come," he said--"Walk on a few paces with me, and make me understand +what you want when we get to a quieter spot." + +She bowed her head; it was evident that if she had spoken the tears +would have fallen from her eyes. Hubert turned up the comparatively dark +and quiet street in which stood the theatre that he had just visited; +but for a few minutes he did not speak. At last he said in the soothing +voice which was sometimes thought to be his greatest charm-- + +"Now will you make me understand? I beg your pardon for having offended +you by my offer of help; I meant it in all kindness. You have not an +engagement just now, you say?" + +"It is not easy to get one," said the girl, with a quiver in her proud +young voice. "It is not a good time, you know. I had two or three offers +of engagements with provincial companies this autumn, but I refused them +all because I had this one at the Frivolity. They were to give me two +pounds a week; and it was considered a very good engagement. Besides, it +was a London engagement, which I thought it better to take while I had +the chance. But I have lost it now, and I don't know what to do." + +"You know the first question one naturally feels inclined to put to you, +Miss West, is, why did you leave the Frivolity?" + +"I can't tell you the real reason," said the girl sharply. The color in +her face seemed now to be concentrated in two flaming spots in her +cheeks; her mouth was set, and her brow contracted over the brilliant +eyes. "I quarrelled with the manager--that was all." + +"Let me see--the manager is Ferguson, is he not? I know him." + +"But he is not a friend of yours?" said Cynthia, turning towards him +with a look of sudden dismay. + +"Certainly not! He is the most confirmed liar I ever met," Hubert +answered without a smile. + +But he was a little curious in his own mind. From what he knew of +Ferguson, he supposed it likely that the man had been making love to the +young actress, that she had refused to listen to him, and that he had +therefore dismissed her from the troupe. Such things had happened +before, he knew, during Mr. Ferguson's reign; and the Frivolity did not +bear the very best character in the world. With a girl of Cynthia West's +remarkable beauty, it was pretty easy to guess the story, although the +girl in her innocence thought that she was concealing it completely. + +"He said that I was careless," Cynthia went on rapidly. "He changed the +hour for rehearsal twice, and let everybody know but me; then I was +fined, of course; and I complained, and then he said I had better go." + +"What made you come to me?" said Hubert. "I am not a manager, you know." + +"You have a great deal of influence," she said, rather more shyly than +she had spoken hitherto. + +"Very little indeed. Other people have much more. Why did you not try +Gurney or Thomson or Macalister?"--mentioning names well known in the +theatrical world. + +"Oh, Mr. Lepel," said the girl, almost in a whisper, "you will think me +so foolish if I tell you!" + +"No, I sha'n't. Do tell me why!" + +"Well"--still in a whisper--"it was because I read a story, that you had +written--a tale about a girl called Amy Maitland--do you remember?" + +"I ought to remember," said Hubert thoughtfully, "because I know I wrote +it; but an author does not always recall his old stories very +accurately, Miss West. It was a short tale for a Christmas number, I +know. What was there in it that could cause you to honor me in this way, +I wonder?" + +"Ah, don't laugh at me, please, Mr. Lepel!" Cynthia's voice was so sweet +in its entreating tones that Hubert thought he had never heard anything +more musical. "It was all about a girl who was poor like me, and whose +parents were dead, and about her adventures, you know--particularly +about her not being able to get any work to do, and nearly throwing +herself into the river. I have had the thought more than once lately +that it would end with me in that way--the river looks so deep and +silent and mysterious--doesn't it? But that's all nonsense, I suppose! +However, when I read about Amy in the old Christmas number, that my +landlady lent me the other night, it came to my mind that I had seen you +behind the scenes, and that, if you could write in that way, you might +be more ready--ready to help----" She stopped short, a little breathless +after her long and tremulous speech. + +"My poor child," said Hubert, with the tender accent that showed that he +was moved, "I am afraid it does not always follow. However, let us take +the most cheerful view possible of all things, even of novelists, and +try to believe that they practise what they preach. It would be hard if +I did not prove worthy of your confidence, Miss West. I am sure I don't +know whether I will be able to do anything for you or not, but I will +see." + +"Thank you, Mr. Lepel." + +She said the words very low, and drew a quick breath of relief as she +said them. By the light of a gas-lamp under which they were passing at +the moment Hubert saw that she had turned very pale. He halted suddenly. + +"I am very thoughtless," he said, "not to recollect that you must be +tired, and that I am perhaps taking you out of your way." + +"No," said Cynthia simply; "I always go this way. I lodge at a +boarding-house in the Euston Road." + +"Then let us to business at once!" exclaimed Mr. Lepel, in a cheerful +tone. "What sort of engagement do you want, Miss West?" + +She was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, with some unusual +timidity of manner-- + +"I should very much like to have an engagement at a place where I could +sing." + +"Sing!" repeated Hubert, arching his brows a little. "Can you sing? Have +you a voice?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia. + +The audacity of the assertion took away Hubert's breath. He looked at +her pityingly. + +"My dear Miss West, are you aware that singing is a profession in +itself, and requires a professional training, like other things?" + +"Yes. But I can sing," said the girl decidedly. + +"Where did you learn?" + +"At school, and then of an old music-master in the boarding-house where +I am living." + +If he had not been afraid of wounding her feelings, Hubert would have +shrugged his shoulders. They were again standing on the pavement, face +to face, and he refrained from the scornful gesture. + +"Well," he said, after a short pause, "if you think so, there is nothing +to do but to try you. I must hear you sing, Miss West, before I can say +anything about a musical engagement. Shall I come and see you +to-morrow?" + +"Oh, no!" said Cynthia, with such transparent horror at the suggestion +that Mr. Lepel was very much amused. "We have no piano, and I am sure +that Mrs. Wadsley would not like it." + +"Then will you come to my rooms at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning?" + +"Thank you. Oh, Mr. Lepel, I am so very, very much obliged to you!" + +"I have done nothing yet to merit thanks, Miss West. I shall be only +glad if I can be the means of assisting a fellow-artist out of a +difficulty." He saw that the words brought a bright glow of gratified +feeling to the girl's face. "Here is my card; my rooms are not very far +off, you see--in Russell square." + +Cynthia took the card and thanked him again so warmly that Hubert +assured her that he was already overpaid. They had reached the broad +torrent of life that rolls down New Oxford street, and further +conversation became almost impossible. Hubert bent his head to say-- + +"Shall I put you into a cab now, or may I see you home?" + +"Neither, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "I am quite well used +to going about alone; and it is a very little way. Good night; and I am +so much obliged to you!" + +"Let me see you over this crossing, at any rate," said Hubert. + +She was too quick for him; she had already plunged into the tide, and he +saw her the next moment halting on the central resting-place of the +broad thoroughfare. He attempted to follow, but was too late, and had to +wait a moment or two for a couple of heavy carts. When the road was +clear again, he saw that she had safely reached the other side; and, as +soon as he had crossed, he dimly perceived her graceful figure some +distance ahead on the sombre pavements of Bedford square. His impulse +was to overtake her, but after a few rapid strides he abandoned the +intention. The girl was safe enough at that early hour; no doubt she was +accustomed, as she said, to take care of herself. No need to launch into +a romantic episode--to walk behind her, keeping watch and ward, as if +she were likely to encounter terrible danger on the way. And yet, for +some reason or another, he continued to walk--slowly now--in the +direction which Cynthia West had taken. + +It was quite out of his own way to go all along Gower street and +eastward down the Euston Road, yet that was what he did. He saw the tall +slight figure stop at an iron gate, push it open, and walk up the +flagged pavement to the door of a dingy but highly respectable-looking +house. The Euston Road is a neighborhood not greatly affected by people +of fastidious taste; and Hubert wondered, with a shrug of the shoulders, +why Miss West had found a lodging in the very midst of its ceaseless +maddening roar. He passed the house with a slow step, and as he did so +he read an inscription on the brass plate which adorned the gate by +which Cynthia had entered-- + + "MRS. WADSLEY. + "Select Boarding-House for Ladies and Gentlemen. + "Moderate Terms." + +"Very moderate and very select, no doubt," thought Hubert cynically. +"Now is that girl making a fool of me, or is she not? All those pretty +airs might so easily be put on by a clever actress. I shall find her out +to-morrow. She can act a little--I know that; but, if she can't sing, +after what she has said, she may go to Jericho for me! And, if she does +not come at all, why, then I shall know that she is an arrant little +impostor, and that I am a confounded fool!" + +"He stopped to light a cigar under a lamp-post, and a slight smile +played over his features as he struck the match. + +"She's a beautiful girl," he said to himself; "if she does turn out an +impostor, I shall be rather sorry. But, by Jove, I don't believe she +will!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +"Shall I take off my hat before I sing?" said Miss West calmly. + +She was in Hubert's sitting-room. Mr. Lepel had the drawing-room floor +of a large and fine old house in Russell square--a floor which contained +two drawing-rooms opening out of each other, a bed and bath-room, and a +small den, generally called a smoking-room, although its master's pipes +and cigars were to be found in all corners of the apartments. Hubert had +partially furnished the rooms for himself, and thus done away with the +bare and ungarnished appearance usually characteristic of a London +lodging. + +Miss West glanced around the room on her first entry with some +astonishment largely commingled with admiration. The mixture of luxury +and disorder which met her eyes might have surprised even persons more +conversant with the world than Cynthia West. The golden-brown plush +curtains between the rooms were half pushed back, and showed that the +back-room had been turned into a library. Shelves crowded with books, +tables heaped with them, a great writing-table and a _secretaire_ showed +that Mr. Lepel used the room for what might be called "professional" +purposes. But in the front drawing-room there had been attempts--and not +unsuccessful attempts--at more artistic decoration. The curtains were of +exquisite brocade, some charming etchings adorned the walls, great +porcelain bowls of flowers had been placed on the oddly-shaped little +tables that stood about the room. A pianette had been pulled out from +the wall, and an Algerian shawl glistening with gold was loosely thrown +over its back. Other articles of decoration were suggestive of foreign +travel. A collection of murderous-looking weapons had been fastened on +the wall between the two windows, some Eastern embroideries were thrown +here and there over the furniture, and an inlaid mother-o'-pearl stool, +an enormous narghileh, and some Japanese kakemonos gave the room quite +an outlandish air. In spite of its oddness, there was a brightness and +pleasantness about the place, due to the gay tints of the Oriental +stuffs, and the hue and fragrance of the flowers with which pots and +bowls and vases were plentifully filled. + +"Yes, take off your hat and cloak, please," said Hubert, "if you do not +mind the trouble." + +"It is no trouble at all; I can sing much better without my outdoor +things," replied the girl promptly. + +She took off her little black-and-white hat and her neat little jacket, +and displayed herself in a closely-fitting black gown which suited her +admirably, in spite of its plainness. There was no touch of color or +sign of ornament; a rim of white collar around the neck and white cuffs +at her wrists gave the only relief to the gown's sombre hue. And yet, +with the vivid beauty of her face above the plain dark garment, it +seemed as if she could not have found a garb that was more absolutely +becoming. She stood beside the little piano for a moment with a roll of +music in her hand, and looked at Hubert questioningly. + +"Shall I play my own accompaniment?" she asked. + +"I never thought of that; I could have judged better of your voice if we +had had an accompanist," said her host. "I could play for you myself if +you liked." + +"No; I will do it," said Cynthia decidedly, "Go to the other end of the +room, will you, please, Mr. Lepel? You will hear me better there." + +There was a pretty air of command about her which amused Mr. Lepel. This +young woman, he reflected, as he took up the position which she had +recommended, was not one who would be contented with a secondary +position anywhere. She evidently considered herself born to rule. Well, +he would do her bidding; he had no objection to the rule of a pretty +woman! He was not disposed to take Miss Cynthia West and her singing +very seriously--as yet. + +Cynthia seated herself at the piano, while Hubert flung himself into an +easy-chair at the farther end of the room, and crossed his arms behind +his head in an attitude of attention and endurance, which showed that he +was not expecting much and was prepared to bear the worst. For the +singing of an average girl of eighteen or nineteen, with an ambition to +appear on a public stage, is apt to be trying to the sensibilities of +the true music-lover; and Hubert Lepel was no mean critic of the art. + +Cynthia played a few opening bars, and then began to sing a popular +ballad of the day. When she had finished it, she did not look round, but +went on fingering the notes, gliding gradually into another key. Then +suddenly she broke out into a fine old Italian aria, which she sang with +much fire and expression, availing herself of every opportunity of +_fioriture_ and _cadenza_ afforded by the song. And thence, with only a +few bars of symphony between, she launched herself upon one of +Schubert's most passionate love-songs, and sang it in a style which +brought the listener to his feet at its close in a musical rapture that +almost defied expression. + +"Why, good heavens," cried Hubert, with something not unlike a gasp, +"who on earth taught you to sing like that? And your voice--do you know, +Miss West, that your voice is simply magnificent?" + +Cynthia kept her head down, and continued to finger the notes--mutely +this time. + +"I have been told that I might be able to sing at private concerts," she +said demurely. + +"Private concerts! You might sing at Her Majesty's or Covent +Garden--with a little more training perhaps," said Hubert, trying to be +cautious, but failing to hide the satisfaction which shone out of his +eyes as he approached the piano. "Why have you never sung to any +manager? At least you may have done so, but I never heard a word of it; +and a voice like yours would be talked about; you know." + +"I suppose it was old Lalli's fault," said Cynthia carelessly. "He +always impressed upon me that I could not sing a bit, and that I must +wait for years and years before I dare open my mouth in public." + +"And who is old Lalli?" asked Hubert, gathering up her music and +beginning to turn it over. + +Cynthia crossed her white hands and looked down, a shadow flitting +across her mobile face. + +"He is dead," she said softly. "He was a very kind old friend. He lodged +in the house where I am lodging now. As long as he lived I always had +somebody to advise me--somebody to depend on." + +Her voice faltered a little. Some moisture was visible on the long dark +eyelashes as they hung over the fresh young cheeks. Hubert thought again +that he had never seen a woman half so beautiful. The touch of emotion +softened her loveliness--made it more human, more appealing. His tone +was less light, but more simply friendly, when he addressed her again. + +"Was he a musician?" + +"He was a violinist in the Frivolity orchestra. He had been a singer +once, I believe; at any rate, he knew a great deal about singing, and he +used to give me lessons. He used to tear his hair, and frown and stamp a +great deal," said Cynthia, smiling tenderly; "but he was kind, and I +loved him very much." + +"You met with him at the boarding-house where you live, I suppose?" said +Hubert carelessly. + +Cynthia gave him a sudden glance. The color came into her face. + +"No," she said slowly; "he took me there." She raised her right hand and +struck a few soft notes with it before she resumed her speech. "You +would like to know how it was perhaps?" She made long pauses between her +sentences, as if she were considering what to say and what to leave +unsaid. "I came to London about four years ago, in great trouble. I had +lost all my friends--not because I had done anything wrong, because +of--other things. I wanted to get something to do in a shop or as a +servant-girl--I did not care what. I tried all day, but nobody would +give me work. I slept in the Park at night. Next day I began to search +all over again, and again it was of no use. I had no money; I was very +hungry and tired. I sat down on a step and cried, and at last some one +said to me, 'What is the matter, my poor child?' And I looked up, +frightened, and saw an old man with a long gray beard and very dark eyes +and a kind face stooping over me. That was Signor Guido Lalli, of the +Frivolity." + +"I remember him in the band quite well," said Hubert. "He had a good +face." + +"Had he not?" exclaimed the girl, with sudden passion. "He was the +kindest, wisest, best man I ever knew! I could not help trusting him, he +looked so good. He made me tell him all about myself, and then he took +me with him to the boarding-house in Euston Road where he lived, and +said that he would be responsible to the landlady for me until I got +something to do. And Mrs. Wadsley was so fond of him that she took me on +trust for his sake. I don't believe she ever suspected how little he +really knew about me. And next day he took me to some friends of his, +and between them they got me a little engagement at a theatre; and then +I had a small speaking part, and so on--you know as well as I do how +young actresses go from step to step--so that I was able to support +myself after a time, and be no longer a burden upon him." + +"And would he not let you sing?" + +"No; he gave me lessons every day, and made me practise a long time; but +I had to promise him that I would not sing to anybody but himself +unless--unless I were obliged. I used to be angry about it; but he was +so good to me that I always gave in to him in the end. I fancy now that +he had a purpose in it all. When I was sufficiently trained, he wanted +to take me to Mapleson or some other great _impresario_, and get him to +bring me out in opera." + +"Very likely. But you say he died?" + +"Yes," said the girl, with a sigh, "he died--suddenly too, so that he +did not even say good-bye. He was found dead one morning in his bed. +Since then I have been all alone in the world; and I think Mr. Ferguson +knew it, and wanted to take advantage of my position." + +"No doubt of it." + +"So then, as I had no engagement at the theatre, I thought I would see +whether my voice would do anything for me. And, as I told you last +night, I made up my mind to speak to you." + +Hubert had stood with his arms on the piano, looking gravely down on the +girl's bent face as she told her story. As she paused, she raised her +head, and her great dark eyes looked straight into his with an +expression of mute appeal which stirred his feelings strangely. It moved +him so much that he was forced to take down his arms and turn aside from +the piano for a moment or two; he scarcely wanted her to see how deeply +he was touched. He soon came back to her side, however, and said-- + +"If I had refused to listen to you, what would you have done?" + +"I don't know," she answered meditatively. + +"You would have gone to some manager--some celebrated _impresario_?" + +"And been snubbed and repulsed by one and all!" said, Cynthia, with +sudden passion. + +She rose from the music-stool and stood facing him; he saw her bosom +rise and fall, he marked the varying color in her cheeks, the light and +shadow in her troubled eyes, as she poured out the impetuous words with +which her heart was charged. + +"I could not have borne it! I do not know how to put up with insult and +contempt. I feel that I hate all the world when it treats me in that +way. I never could be meek and good like other girls. I don't mean that +I want to be wicked--I hope I am not wicked--but, if you had failed me, +I think that I should have gone straight away to London Bridge and +thrown myself into the river--for I should have had no hope left." + +"My dear girl," said Hubert, rather gravely, "with that voice of yours +you would have been very wrong to feel so easily discouraged." + +"Oh, what would the voice matter if I could get nobody to listen to it?" +cried Cynthia, with fiery scorn. "I may have a fortune in my voice, but +how will the fortune benefit me if I can't have it for the next five or +ten years, and am starving in the meantime? I could not have stayed more +than a few days at Mrs. Wadsley's, as I had no money, and was not likely +to earn any. If I was turned out, where was I to go? It is winter now, +not summer, as it was when I slept in the Park four years ago, and dear +old Lalli found me crying on the steps. A night out of doors in this +weather would not leave me much voice to sing with, I fancy! No; I had +made up my mind, Mr. Lepel--if you would not listen to me, I would go to +London Bridge. If you think me wicked, I can't help it; it was my last +resource." + +With her cheeks flaming, her eyes gleaming beneath her black brows, it +was plain that she was dominated by passion of no common strength, by +will and pride which made it well-nigh impossible for her to lead an +ordinary woman's life. Hubert looked at her, stupefied, fascinated by +her beauty; he was penetrated by an admiration that he had never felt +for a woman in all his life before. And she was a mere girl yet! He knew +that she would be ten times more beautiful in a few years' time. + +"You were right to come to me," he murmured, scarcely knowing what he +said as he gazed into the depths of the lustrous dark eyes. "You need +have no fear--you will succeed." + +Cynthia drew a long breath. Her attitude changed a little; limbs and +features seemed to relax, the color died slowly out of her flushed +cheeks. + +"You mean," she said, in a lower voice, "that you do not think, after +all, that I was very wrong--bold, unwomanly, I mean--to speak to you, +when I did not know you, in the street last night?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I had no claim on you, I know," proceeded the girl, the light of +excitement fading out of her face, and the perfect mouth beginning to +quiver as she spoke. "It was only a fancy of mine that, as you had +seemed to understand so well how dreadful it was to be alone--alone in +this great terrible London--you would hold out a helping hand to a girl +who only wanted work--just enough to gain her daily bread." She sobbed a +little, and put her hand over her eyes. + +"Miss West," said Hubert seriously, with a desperate effort to retain a +composure which was very hard to keep, "I can only assure you that I +shall consider it an honor to be allowed to help in bringing you to the +notice of men, who will do far more for you than I can hope to do." + +She withdrew her hand from her eyes and looked at him with a brilliant +smile, though the tears were still wet on her eyelashes. + +"You think I am worth helping?" she said. "And you will help me--you +yourself?" + +"I will not rest," answered Hubert. "I will work night and day, and give +body and soul, and I'll see you a _prima donna_ yet!" + +They both laughed, and then, obeying an impulse which stirred their +hearts alike, held out their hands to each other and exchanged a +friendly grasp. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The little village of Beechfield, like all other villages, had its dark +corners where vice and misery reigned supreme. In old times Mr. and Mrs. +Rumbold--good people as they were in their own fashion--had been content +to leave these darker places to themselves; the decent religious poor +of the parish gave them enough to do. But under the new Rector's rule a +new system had begun. The Reverend Maurice Evandale thought that his +duty lay amongst the lost sheep as well as amongst those already in the +fold. If he had been at Beechfield in the days before Sydney Vane's +death, he would never have let poor Andrew Westwood and his child remain +outcasts from the interests of religious life. He would have visited +them, talked to them, persuaded the child to go to school, perhaps even +induced the poacher to give up his vagrant ways; at any rate, he would +not have let them alone, but would have grappled fearlessly with the +difficulties of their position, and with that hostility which seemed to +exist between Westwood and the rest of the village. Whether he would +have been successful or not it were indeed hard to say, but that he +would have made a great effort to be so there can be no manner of doubt. + +Mr. Evandale's new system produced a great sensation in the parish--not +altogether a favorable sensation either; for the villagers, who had gone +on so long in quiet, comfortable, self-complacent ways, did not regard +with a favorable eye the changes which the Rector introduced. All the +old abuses which had slumbered peacefully in darkness for so many years +were exposed relentlessly by this too energetic young man. He swept away +the village band of stringed instruments from the church gallery; he +erected an organ in the chancel, and set the schoolmistress to play it; +he introduced new tunes into the choir, new doctrines into the pulpit; +he played havoc amongst all that was fusty and musty and venerable in +the villagers' eyes. He talked about drainage, and had an inspector down +to investigate the state of the village water-supply; he waged war upon +the publicans, set up an institute and a library for the village youths, +taught the boys, played with them--thrashed them too occasionally--and +made himself a terror to evil-doers and the idol of the young ladies of +the place. Naturally much was said against him, especially behind his +back. To his face, people did not venture to say much. The young Rector +had such a fearless way of looking straight into people's eyes, of +saying what he meant and expecting other people to do the same, that he +inspired something like fear in the shiftier and less trustworthy part +of the community. On the other hand, the weak, the sick, the very +young, instinctively loved and trusted him. "He is beautiful in a +sick-room," averred the elder women. Perhaps his words seemed beautiful +to them because they felt that by some mysterious law of sympathy he +understood their sorrows without having been a partaker in them, that he +had an infinite pity for the erring and the suffering, and that he never +felt himself less of a brother to his flock because so many of that +flock were sinful and ignorant and degraded. + +So, parson though he was, he became the friend and confidant of half the +village; and strange tales were poured into his ear sometimes--tales +which the tellers would formerly have laughed at the idea of relating to +the Rector of the parish so long as Mr. Rumbold reigned supreme. But to +Maurice Evandale nothing seemed to come amiss; he had interest and +sympathy for all. Stern to impenitent sinners he certainly was--brutal +men and idle lads cowered under the lash of his rebuke; but there was +not a soul in the village who did not also know that a word of +repentance, an act that showed a yearning after better things, was +sufficient to melt the Rector's wrath and turn him from a judge and +censor into a friend. Judging from the progress that Maurice Evandale +had already made in the hearts of his people, there was a fair +likelihood that if he stayed much longer he would be master of their +affections and their intellects, in a way which was unprecedented indeed +at Beechfield. + +He was not often at Beechfield Hall. The General liked his society +extremely, but Mrs. Vane declared that it fatigued her. + +"The man is so oppressively blunt and downright," she said, "that one +never knows what to expect from him next. He is a perfect bear." + +"But, my dear Flossy, he comes of a very good family, and I have heard +him praised on all sides for his distinguished manners," expostulated +the General. "I never knew a young man so courteous, so polished!" + +"I am spoiled for young men, General," said Flossy, extending her hand +very graciously to her white-haired husband. + +It was not often that she showed herself so actively amiable towards +him. She was usually somewhat passive, receiving his attentions with a +languid indifference which would have disconcerted some men, but which +did not disconcert the unsuspicious old General. He was delighted with +her little compliment, kissed her hand gallantly, and avowed that nobody +should come near the house whom she disliked. So Maurice Evandale was +not invited a second time to dinner. + +Naturally Enid was not consulted in the matter. She never expressed any +opinion at all concerning the new Rector. She had always been a regular +church-goer, and, wet or fine, never failed to be present at the class +over which she presided every Sunday afternoon. She was not a whit more +regular in her attendance at church and school than she had been before, +whereas giddy girls like the doctor's daughter and the lawyer's bevy of +fair damsels, and even the members of a neighboring Squire's large +family of girls, had all taken to attending Mr. Evandale's services and +schools with unexampled regularity. Flossy, who seldom went to church +herself, but always inquired diligently after the worshippers, and +exacted an account of their names and number from her young kinswoman, +used to utter sarcastic little jibs anent these young women's +clearly-manifested preference for Mr. Evandale, and was heard to say +rather sharply that, if Enid followed their example, it would be worth +while to have the horses out on a Sunday and drive over to the cathedral +of Whitminster, six miles away. But Enid never gave any sign of liking +the new Rector any better than she had liked Mr. Rumbold; and, as to +take the General away from the church in which he had knelt almost every +Sunday since he came home from active service in India, after his old +father's death, would have been to uproot one of the most deeply-rooted +instincts in his life. Florence was wise enough to let the matter pass, +and to content herself with wishing that the patron of the living had +given it to an older man--or at least to a married man. There was always +danger when a bachelor of eight-and-twenty, good-looking--indeed very +handsome--and with a comfortable income, came into close contact with +young and romantic girls. And Florence did not intend Enid to marry Mr. +Evandale--she had other views for her. + +It was strange to see how this white, silent, languid woman, whose only +occupations in life seemed to be eating, sleeping, driving, and +dressing, was able to mould the natures and ambitions of others to her +liking. Behind the mask of Flossy's pensive beauty lay a brain as +subtle, a will as inflexible, a heart as cold as ever daring criminal +possessed. Nothing daunted or repelled her, and in other circumstances +and other times her genius might have made her a mark for the execration +of all succeeding ages. But her sphere was not large; she had but +indifferent material to work upon in the seclusion of a country home and +the company of an old country gentleman and his niece; and she could but +do her best to gain her ends, even though the path of them lay across +bleeding hearts and lives laid waste by her cruelty. + +Mr. Evandale had felt the same distaste for her society that she had +expressed for his visits, and troubled himself not a little about the +want of charity that he discovered in himself. To his clear and +penetrating eyes there was a vein of falseness apparent in Mrs. Vane's +most honeyed speeches; her narrowed eyes were too subtle for his taste; +there were lines about her mouth which he had seen on faces of women +whom he did not love. For the life of him he could not repress a certain +honest gravity and even sternness of manner in addressing her; something +in her revolted him--he did not know how or why. He almost pitied the +General--the hearty, good old man who seemed so fond of his fair wife. +And he was sorry for Enid too, not only on account of her sad story, but +because she lived with this woman whom he distrusted, because she was +ruled by her fancies and educated according to her desires. And he was +even sorry--still without knowing why--for little Dick, whose quaint +childish face always expanded into a broad smile at the sight of him, +and whom he often met in the village, clinging fondly to Enid's hand. + +When he dined at the Hall, he had scarcely seen Enid, for, on some plea +of illness or fatigue, Mrs. Vane had kept her away from dinner, and her +presence in the drawing-room for the last half hour of Evandale's stay +had been a very silent one. But he often saw her in church. The Vanes' +pew was just in front of the pulpit, and the Rector could not preach +without noticing the steady attention given to him by the girl in the +Squire's pew, could not fail to be struck by the sweetness of the fair +uplifted face, the beauty of the pathetic eyes, in which there always +lurked the shadow of some past or future pain. The Rector fell into the +habit of preaching to that fair young face. But, strangely enough, he +did not preach as men usually preach to the young and innocent--his +words were often of consolation for bitter grief, tender counsel for the +afflicted, even of future hope and amendment for the guilty. Nothing +less peculiarly appropriate to a young girl of seventeen than some of +his sermons could be imagined--and yet they were all addressed to Enid +Vane. It was as if he were trying to strengthen her for some dread +conflict, some warfare of life and death, which his foreseeing eye +discerned for her in days to come. + +Enid was allowed to do a little district-visiting in the parish, and Mr. +Evandale had often heard reports of her gentleness and goodness; but he +had never personally encountered her on any of her errands of mercy. An +exception to this rule, however, took place on a certain afternoon in +November, a few weeks after Hubert Lepel's visit to Beechwood. + +Mr. Evandale had on that day received information that one of his +parishioners--a Mrs. Meldreth--was seriously ill and would like to see +him. The informant added that she brought the Rector word of this, +because Mrs. Meldreth's daughter Sabina was now at home, and seemed +anxious to keep the clergyman away. The Rector's fighting instincts were +at once aroused by this communication. He knew Sabina Meldreth by name +only, and had not derived a very pleasant impression of her from all +that he had heard. She had once been an under-housemaid at the Hall, but +had been dismissed for misconduct--of what sort nobody could exactly +say, although much was hinted at which the gossips did not put into +words--and had left the village soon afterwards. Since that time she had +been seen at Beechfield only at intervals; she came occasionally to see +her mother, and stated that she was "engaged in a millinery business at +Whitminster, and doing well." Certainly her airs and graces, her plumes +and jewelry, seemed to betoken that her finances were in a flourishing +condition. But she never came to church, and was reported to talk in an +irreverent manner, which made the Rector long to get hold of her for +five minutes. With his strong convictions, Maurice Evandale could not +bear to hear without protest of the insolent and almost profane sallies +of wit by which, to his mind, Sabina Meldreth dishonored her Creator. +He had long resolved to speak to her on the subject when next she +visited Beechfield. Perhaps her mother's illness would have softened her +and would make the Rector's task less difficult--for it was not his +nature to love the administration of rebuke, although he held it to be +one of his essential duties, when occasion required. + +Mrs. Meldreth was a respectable elderly woman, who kept a small shop for +cheap groceries and haberdashery in the village. She did not do much +business, but she lived in apparent comfort--probably, the neighbors +said, because she was helped by her daughter's earnings. And then Mrs. +Vane was unusually kind to her. Flossy did not interest herself much in +the welfare of her poorer neighbors, but to Mrs. Meldreth she certainly +showed peculiar favor. Many a gift of food and wine went from the Hall +across Mrs. Meldreth's threshold; and it was noticed that Mrs. Meldreth +was occasionally admitted to Mrs. Vane's own room for a private +conference with the lady of Beechfield Hall herself. But those who +commented wonderingly on that fact were reminded that Mrs. Meldreth +added to her occupations that of sick-nurse, and that she had been in +attendance on Mrs. Vane at the time of the young Squire's birth. It was +natural that Mrs. Vane should be on more intimate terms with her than +with any other of the village women. + +Mrs. Meldreth was not an interesting person in the eyes of the world at +large. She was a sad, silent, dull-faced individual, with blank looking +eyes and a dreary mouth. There were anxious lines on her forehead and +hollows in her pale cheeks, such as her easy circumstances did not +account for. That she "enjoyed very poor health," according to the +dictum of her neighbors, was considered by them to be a sufficient +reason for Mrs. Meldreth's evident lack of peace of mind. + +Mr. Evandale set off for his visit to the sick woman early in the +afternoon. He was hindered on his way to her house by meeting with +various of his friends of the humbler sort, whom he did not like to pass +without a word, and it was after three o'clock before he reached Mrs. +Meldreth's cottage. He entered the shop, which looked duller and more +uninviting than ever, and found that it was tenanted only by a girl of +thirteen--a girl whom he knew to be the stupidest in the whole of the +village school. + +"Well, Polly Moss," he said good-naturedly, "are you taking care of the +shop?" + +Polly Moss, a girl whose mouth looked as if it would never close, beamed +at him with radiant satisfaction, and replied-- + +"Yes, sir--I'm minding the shop, sir. Did you want any groceries to-day, +please, sir?" + +"No, thank you," said the Rector, smiling. "I have come to see Mrs. +Meldreth, who, I hear, is ill." + +"Yes, sir," said Polly, in a tone of resigned affliction. "I thought +p'r'aps you was going to buy something, sir. I hain't sold anythink the +'ole afternoon." + +"Polly," said Mr. Evandale, "how often am I to tell you to say the +'whole' afternoon, not the ''ole'?" The unlucky man had even made war on +the natives' practice of leaving out their "h's"! "'Whole,' with an 'h,' +remember! Well, I will buy something--what shall it be?--a pound of tea +perhaps. Ah, yes! Two shillings a pound, isn't it? Pack it up and send +it to the Rectory to-night, Polly; and here are the two shillings to put +into the till. Now will you ask if I can see Mrs. Meldreth?" + +Polly's shining face suddenly fell. + +"I daren't leave the shop, sir," she said. "I left it this morning just +for a minute or two, and Miss Meldreth said she'd skin me alive if ever +I did so again. Would you mind, sir"--insinuatingly--"just a-going up +the stairs and knocking at the door atop o' them? They'll be glad to see +you, I'm sure, sir; and I daren't leave the shop for a single minute." + +"All right," said the Rector. He was used to entering sick-rooms, and +did not find Polly Moss' request very much out of the way. "I'll go up." + +He passed through the shop and ascended the stairs, with every step of +which he was familiar, as he had already visited Mrs. Meldreth during +one or two previous attacks of illness, and was heard to knock at the +sick woman's bed-room door. + +"Oh, my," exclaimed Polly, as soon as he was out of reach, "and if I +didn't go for to forget to tell him as 'ow Miss Enid was up there! Oh, +my! But I don't suppose he'll mind! He's only the parson, after all." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +When Mr. Evandale knocked at Mrs. Meldreth's door, he was aware of a +slight bustle within, followed by the sound of voices in low-toned +conference; then came a rather sharply-toned "Come in!". As, however, +the Rector still hesitated, the door was flung open by a young woman, +whose very gestures seemed to show that she acted under protest, and +would not have admitted him at all if she had had her own way. She was a +fair-complexioned woman of perhaps thirty years of age, tall, well made, +robust, and generally considered handsome; she had prominent light-blue +eyes, and features which, without being badly cut, were indefinably +common and even coarse-looking. In her cheeks a patch of exceptionally +vivid red had so artificial an appearance, that the Rector could not +believe it to be genuine; but later he gained an impression that it +proceeded from excitement, and not from any adventitious source. The +eyes of this woman were sparkling with anger; there was defiance in her +every movement, even in the way in which her fingers were clenched at +her sides or clutched the iron rail of the bed on which her mother lay. +The Rector wondered at her evident disturbance; it must have proceeded +from something, that had occurred before his entrance, he concluded, and +he looked towards the bed as if to discover whether the cause of Sabina +Meldreth's anger could be found there. + +But no--surely not there! The Rector thought that he had seldom seen a +fairer picture than the one which met his eyes. Goodness, gentleness, +youth supporting age, beauty unabashed by feebleness and ugliness--these +were the characteristics of the scene on which he looked. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth lay back upon her pillows, her face wan and worn, her eyes +wandering, her gray hair escaping from her close cap and straying over +her forehead. But beside her knelt Enid Vane. The girl's arm was beneath +the old woman's bowed shoulders; it was evident that in this position +the invalid could breathe better and was more at ease. The sweet fair +face, with its slight indefinable shadow deepened at this moment into a +look of perfect pity, was bent over the wrinkled, withered countenance +of the sick woman. Never, the Rector thought, had he seen a lovelier +picture of youth ministering to the wants of age. + +But a sense of incongruity also struck him, and he turned rather quickly +to Miss Meldreth, whose defiant eyes had been fixed upon him from the +first moment of his entrance into the room. + +"You are Mrs. Meldreth's daughter?" he said, in a quick but not unkindly +undertone. "Why do you let the young lady there wait upon your mother? +Can you not nurse her yourself, my good girl?" + +Sabina Meldreth curtseyed, but in evident mockery, for the color in her +cheeks grew higher, and her tone was anything but respectful when she +spoke. + +"Of course I can nurse my mother, sir, and of course a young lady like +Miss Vane didn't ought to put her finger to anything menial," she said, +with a sharpness which took the Rector a little by surprise. "I'm quite +well aware of the difference between us. And"--anger now evidently +gaining the upper hand--"if you'd tell Miss Vane to go, sir, I'd be +obliged to you, for she is only exciting mother, and doing her no good." + +"Your mother shows no symptoms of excitement," said the Rector quietly; +"and I must say, Miss Meldreth, that your words do not evince the +gratitude that I should have expected you to feel for the young lady's +kindness." + +"Kindness! Oh, kindness is all very well!" said Miss Meldreth, with an +angry toss of her fair head. "But I don't know what kindness there is in +disturbing my poor mother--reading hymns and psalms, and all that sort +of thing!" + +Mr. Evandale had hitherto wondered whether or no Miss Vane heard a word +of Sabina Meldreth's acid utterances, but he had henceforward no room +for doubt. The girl raised her head a little and spoke in a low but +penetrating tone. + +"Miss Meldreth," she said, "excuse me, but you yourself are disturbing +your mother far more than I have done. See--she is beginning to be +restless again; she cannot bear loud talking or altercation." + +The Rector was astonished by the firmness of her tone. She was so +graceful, so slight, so fragile-looking, that he had not credited her +with any great strength of character, in spite of his admiration for her +beauty. But what she said was perfectly true, and he hastened to lend +her his support. + +"Quite so," he said approvingly. "Mrs. Meldreth should be kept quiet, I +can see"--for the old woman had begun to moan and to move her head +restlessly from side to side when she heard her daughter's rasping +voice. "Perhaps you would step into another room with me, Miss Meldreth, +and tell me how this attack came on--if, at least, Miss Vane does not +mind being left with Mrs. Meldreth for a few minutes, or if she is not +tired." + +Enid answered with a faint sweet smile. + +"I am not tired," she said. "And poor nurse wants to speak to me when +she is able. She sent to tell me so. I can stay with her quite well." + +But the proposition seemed to excite Sabina Meldreth almost to fury. + +"If you think," she said, "that I am going to leave my mother alone with +anybody--gentleman or lady--you are mistaken. If you want her to be +quiet, leave her alone yourselves--she'll stay quiet enough if she's +left to me." + +"Sabina," said Enid, with a gentle dignity of tone which commanded the +Rector's admiration and respect, "you know that your mother wanted me to +come." + +"I know that she's off her head!" said Sabina angrily. "She doesn't know +what she says or what she wants. It's nonsense, all of it! And meaning +no disrespect to you, Miss Vane"--in a lower but sulkier tone--"if you +would but go away and leave her to me, she'd be all the better for it in +the end." + +"Hush!" said Enid, raising her hand--the serenity of her face was quite +undisturbed by Sabina's expostulation. "She is coming to herself +again--she is going to speak." + +There was a moment's silence in the room. The sick woman was lying +still; her eyes wandered and her lips moved, but as yet no articulate +sound issued from them. In apparently uncontrollable passion, Sabina +stamped violently and shook the rail of the iron bedstead with her +hands. + +"She ain't going to speak; she is off her head, I tell you! She ain't +got anything to say." + +The Rector looked at her steadily. For the first time it occurred to him +that the younger woman had some unworthy motive in her desire to silence +her mother and to get the listeners out of the room. Dislike of +interference, jealousy, and bad temper would not entirely account, he +thought, for her intense and angry agitation. Had Mrs. Meldreth and her +daughter some secret which the mother would gladly confess and the girl +was fain to hide? + +A feeble voice sounded from the bed. + +"Is it Miss Enid?" said Mrs. Meldreth. "Has she come?" + +"No," said Sabina boldly and loudly. "You go to sleep, mother, and don't +you bother about Miss Enid." + +"Miss Meldreth, how dare you try to deceive a dying woman?" said the +Rector, so sternly that even Sabina quailed a little before the deep low +tones of his voice. "Yes, Mrs. Meldreth, Miss Enid Vane is here, and you +can say all that you wish to say to her." + +"I am here, nurse," said Enid gently--she had always been in the habit +of addressing Mrs. Meldreth by that title. "Do you want me?" + +"Oh, my dearie," said the old woman dreamily, "and have you come to me +after all? Sabina there, she tried to keep you away; but I had my will +at last. Polly told you that I wanted you, didn't she, Miss Enid dear?" + +"Yes, nurse, she told me." + +"I'll pay Polly Moss out for that!" Sabina was heard to mutter between +her closed teeth. But Enid took no notice of the words. + +"I'd something to say to you, my dearie," said Mrs. Meldreth, whose +voice, though feeble, was now perfectly distinct; "and 'dearie' I must +call you, although I haven't the right to do it now. I held you in my +arms, my dear, five minutes after you came into this here wicked world, +and I've allus looked on you as one o' my own babies, so to speak." + +The delicate color had flushed Enid's cheeks a little, but she answered +simply, "Yes, dear nurse;" and, leaning down, she kissed the old woman's +forehead. + +The caress moved the Rector strangely. His heart gave an odd bound, the +blood began to course more rapidly through his veins. He was a +clergyman, and he was in the presence of a dying woman; but he was a +man for all that, and at the moment when Enid's pure lips were pressed +to her old nurse's brow, his whole being was stirred by a new emotion, +which as yet he did not suspect was known amongst men by the name of +love. + +Sabina Meldreth had withdrawn from her station at the foot of the bed; +she had moved softly to the side, and now stood by her mother's pillow, +opposite to Enid, with her eyes fixed watchfully, balefully, upon her +mother's face. But Mrs. Meldreth seemed unconscious of her daughter's +gaze. + +"I've something to say to you, my pretty," she said, with long pauses +between the sentences--longer and longer as the laboring breath became +more difficult and the task of speech more painful. "Sabina would nigh +kill me if she knew. But I can't die with this thing on my mind. If I've +wronged you and yours, and my own flesh and blood as well, I want to +make amends." + +"Is she--does she know what she is saying?" said Enid, raising her eyes +to the Rector's face, with a touch of doubt and alarm in their pensive +depths. + +Before Mr. Evandale could answer Sabina broke in wildly. + +"No, she don't--she don't know what she's saying; I told you so before! +She's got her head full of mad fancies; she's not responsible, and +you've no business to listen to her ravings. It ain't fair--it ain't +fair--it ain't fair!" She concluded with a sob of passion that broke, in +spite of her efforts to control herself, from her whitening lips, but +which brought no tears with it to her eyes. + +"Control yourself," said the Rector gravely. "We shall make all +allowance for your mother's state of mind. But, if there is anything +that she ought to confess, any act of dishonesty or unfaithfulness while +she served Miss Vane's parents or uncle, then let her speak and humble +herself in the sight of God, in whose very presence she, like all of us, +will shortly stand." + +The Rector's solemn tones awed Sabina into momentary quiescence, and +reached even the dying woman's dulled ears. + +"It is the parson," she said feebly. "Yes, I'm glad he's here, and Miss +Enid too. I can't go into the Almighty's presence with a lie on my +lips--can I, parson? It would weigh me down--down--down to hell. I must +confess!" + +"You've nothing to confess," said Sabina, almost fiercely; "lie still +and hold your tongue, mother! You'll only bring shame on us both; and +it's not true--not true!" + +"You know then that your mother has something on her mind? In God's name +be silent and let her speak!" said Mr. Evandale. + +Enid looked up at her with wondering pity. Indeed Sabina Meldreth +presented at that moment a strange and even tragic appearance. The hot +unnatural color had left her cheeks, her ashy lips were strained back +from her clenched teeth, her eyes were wide with an unspoken fear. +Whatever she might say or leave unsaid, neither of those two persons who +looked at her could doubt for another moment that Sabina Meldreth had a +secret--a guilty secret--weighing heavily upon her mind. + +Mrs. Meldreth's weak voice once more broke the silence. + +"I never thought of its harming you, my dear," she said. "I thought you +was rich and would not want houses and lands. And, when Mrs. Vane that +now is came to me and said----" + +She did not achieve her sentence. Sabina Meldreth had flown like a +tigress at her mother's throat. + +But, fortunately for Mrs. Meldreth, a strong and resolute man was in the +room. He had already drawn nearer to Sabina, with a feeling that she was +not altogether to be trusted, and, as soon as she made her first savage +movement--so like that of a wild beast leaping on its prey--his hands +were upon her, his strong arms holding her back. For a minute there was +a frightful struggle. The Rector pinioned her arms; but she, with the +ferocity of an undisciplined nature, flung her head sideways and +fastened her teeth in his arm. Her strength and her agility were so +great that the Rector could not easily disengage himself; and, although +the cloth of his coat-sleeve prevented her attempt to bite from doing +any great injury, the assault was sufficiently painful and sufficiently +unexpected to protract the struggle longer than might have been +anticipated. For, as she was a woman, Maurice Evandale did not like to +resort to active violence, and it was with some difficulty that he at +last mastered her and placed her in a chair, where for a few minutes he +had to hold her until her struggles ceased and were succeeded by a burst +of convulsive sobs. Then he felt that he might relax his hold, she +ceased to be dangerous when she began to cry. + +Enid had involuntarily withdrawn her arm from Mrs. Meldreth's shoulders, +and sprung to her feet with a low cry when she saw the struggle that was +taking place; but in a second or two she conquered her impulse to fly to +the Rector's aid, and with rare self-control bent once more over the +dying woman, who needed her help more than Mr. Evandale could. Poor Mrs. +Meldreth was almost unconscious of the disturbance. Her eyes were +glazing, her sight was growing feeble, the words that fell from her lips +were broken and disconnected. But still she spoke--still she went on +pouring her story into Enid's listening ears. + +When the Rector at last looked round, he saw an expression on Enid's +face which chilled him to the bone. It was a look of unutterable woe, of +grief, shame, agony, and profound astonishment. But there was no +incredulity. Whatever Mrs. Meldreth had told her Enid had believed. The +Rector made one step towards the bed. + +"If you have anything to confess, Mrs. Meldreth," he began; but Enid +interrupted him. + +"She has confessed," said the girl, turning her face to him with a +strange look of mingled humiliation and compassion--"she has +confessed--and I--I have forgiven. Nurse, do you hear? God will forgive +you, and I forgive you too." + +"God will forgive," murmured the woman. + +A smile flickered over her pale face. Then a change came; the light in +her eyes went out, her jaw fell. A slight convulsion passed through her +whole frame, and she lay still--very still. The confession, great or +small, that she had made had been heard only by Enid and her God. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +"It is all over," said Maurice Evandale, looking gravely at the dead +woman's face. "It is all over, and may God have mercy upon her soul!" + +He left Sabina, who was sobbing hysterically as she sat huddled up in +the chair on which he had placed her, and came to Enid's side. She +turned to him with sorrowful appeal. + +"Is she dead? Can nothing be done?" + +"Nothing. Come away, Miss Vane; this is no place for you. One moment! +Have you anything to say to this woman? Have you any charge to bring?" + +He pointed to Sabina as he spoke, and she, roused for an instant, raised +a mute terrified face from her hands, and seemed to shrink still lower +in her chair, as if she would willingly have hidden herself and her +secret, whatever it might be, out of sight of all the world. She +waited--waited--evidently with dread--for the accusation that she +expected from Enid's lips. The Rector waited also, but the accusation +did not come. There was a moment's utter silence in the chamber of +death. + +"Have you anything to say?" asked Maurice Evandale at last. + +Then Enid spoke. + +"No," she answered, with quivering lips; "I can say nothing. I--I +forgave her--before she died;" and then she turned away and went swiftly +out of the room, leaving the others to follow or linger as they pleased. + +Sabina rose from her chair and stood as if dazed, stupefied by her +position. All her fierceness and defiance had left her; her face was +white, her eyes were downcast, her hands hung listlessly at her sides. +The Rector paused and spoke. + +"You hear what Miss Vane said?" + +She made no answer. + +"I do not know what you or your mother may have done. Some secret guilt +evidently weighed upon her soul. Whatever it may be, she confessed her +guilt and received forgiveness. Sabina Meldreth, in the presence of your +dead mother and of your living God, I call upon you to do the same. If +you would find mercy in the hour of your own death, confess your sin, +whatever it may be, and you shall be forgiven." + +Still she stood silent and almost motionless, but her teeth gnawed at +her white lips as if to bite them through. + +"You will have no better time than the present," said the Rector. "If +there is anything that you feel should be confessed, confess it now. It +is God's voice calling to you, not mine. Your mother cleared her +conscience before she died, do you the same. I bid you in God's name." + +Maurice Evandale did not often speak after this fashion; he was no +fanatic, no bigot, but he believed intensely in the great eternal truths +which he preached, and in the presence of death--in the presence also, +as he believed, of mortal sin--he could not do less than appeal to what +was highest and best in the nature of the woman before him. What she had +to accuse herself of he could not possibly imagine; but he knew that +there was something. By the dead woman's incoherent words, by Sabina +Meldreth's violence, by Enid's stricken look of perplexity and pain, he +knew that something lay hidden which ought to be brought to light. + +The winter's day was drawing to a close. Through the uncurtained window +the light stole dimly, and the reddened coals in the tiny grate threw +but a feeble gleam into the room. In every corner shadows seemed to +cluster, and the dead woman's face looked horribly pale and ghastly in +the surrounding gloom. The Rector waited with a feeling that the moment +was unutterably solemn; that it was fraught with the destiny of a +suffering, sinning human being--for aught he knew, with the destinies of +more than one. Suddenly the woman before him threw up her hands as if to +shut out the sight of her dead mother's face. + +"I have nothing to tell you--nothing!" she cried. "What business have +you here? You teased my mother out of her last few minutes of life, and +now you want to get the mastery over me! It's my house now, my room--not +my mother's--and you may go out of it." + +"Is that all you have to say," asked the Rector gravely--"even in her +presence, Sabina Meldreth?" + +"Yes, that's all," she answered, the old fierceness creeping back into +her tones. "What else should I have to say? I suppose you can have me +taken up for assault; Miss Vane will bear witness in your favor fast +enough, no doubt. I don't care!" + +"Do you not care even when you think what I kept you back from?" said +Mr. Evandale. "Your mother was old, weak, dying, and you threw yourself +upon her with violence. You will remember that some day, and will bless +me perhaps because I withheld your hand. Your attack upon me matters +nothing. I am willing to believe that you did not know what you were +doing. I will leave you know--it is not seemly that we should discuss +this matter any further. But, if ever you want help or counsel--and the +day may come, my poor woman, when you may want both--then come to me." + +He opened the door, went out, and closed it behind him, leaving Sabina +Meldreth alone with the dead. + +He found two or three women down-stairs already; Enid Vane must have +told Polly, as she passed through the shop, that Mrs. Meldreth's end had +come. As soon as he had gone, two of them went up-stairs to perform the +necessary offices in the chamber of death. They found Sabina stretched +on the floor in a swoon, from which it was long before she recovered. + +"You wouldn't ha' thought she had so much feeling in her," said one of +the women to the other, as they ministered to her wants. + +Meanwhile the Rector strode down the village street, straining his eyes +in the twilight, and glancing eagerly from side to side, in his endeavor +to discover what had become of Miss Vane. He knew that she had probably +never been out so late unattended in her life before; lonely as her +existence seemed to be, she was well cared for, anxiously guarded, and +surrounded by every possible protection. He had been surprised to find +her in Mrs. Meldreth's cottage so late in the afternoon. Only the +exigencies of the situation had prevented him from following her at once +when she left the house--only the stern conviction that he must not, for +the sake of Miss Vane's bodily safety and comfort, neglect Sabina +Meldreth's soul. But, when he felt that his duty in the cottage was +over, he sallied forth in search of Enid Vane. She had been wearing a +long fur-lined cloak, he remembered, and on her head a little fur toque +to match. The colors of both were dark; at a distance she could not be +easily distinguished by her dress. And she had at least three-quarters +of a mile to walk--through the village, down-hill by the lane, past the +fir plantation where her father had been found murdered, and a little +way along the high-road--before she would reach her own park gate. The +Rector, like all strong men, was very tender and pitiful to the weak. +The thought of her feeling nervous and frightened in the darkness of the +lane was terrible to him; he felt as if she ought to be guarded and +guided throughout life by the fearless and the strong. + +He walked down the street--it was a long straggling street such as often +forms the main thoroughfare of a country village--but he saw nothing of +Enid. At the end of the street were some better-built houses, with +gardens; then came the Rectory and the church. He paused instinctively +at the churchyard gate. Surely he saw something moving amongst the tombs +over there by the railed-in plot of ground that marked the vault, in +which lay the mortal remains of Sydney and Marion Vane? Had she gone +there? Was it Enid's slender form that crouched beside the railings in +the attitude of helpless sorrow and despair? + +The Rector did not lose a moment in finding out. He threw open the gate, +dashed down the pathway, and was scarcely astonished to discover that +his fancy was correct. It was Enid Vane who had found her way to her +parents' grave, and had slipped down upon the frosted grass, half +kneeling, half lying against the iron rails. + +One glance, and Evandale's heart gave a leap of terror. Had she fainted, +or was she dead? It was no warm, conscious, breathing woman whom he had +found--it was a rigid image of death, as stiff, as sightless, as +inanimate as the corpse that he had left behind. He bent down over her, +felt her pulse, and examined the pupils of her eyes. He had had some +medical training before he came to Beechfield, and his knowledge of +physiological details told him that this was no common faint--that the +girl was suffering from some strange cataleptic or nervous seizure, for +which ordinary remedies would be of no avail. + +The Rectory garden opened into the churchyard. Maurice Evandale had not +a moment's hesitation in deciding what to do. He lifted the strangely +rigid, strangely heavy figure in his arms, and made his way along the +shadowy churchyard pathway to the garden gate. The great black yews +looked grim and ghostly as he left them behind and strode into his own +domain, where the flowers were all dead, and the leafless branches of +the fruit-trees waved their spectral arms above him as he passed. There +was something indefinably unhomelike and weird in the aspect of the most +familiar places in the winter twilight. But Maurice Evandale, by an +effort of his strong will, banished the fancies that came into his mind, +and fixed his thoughts entirely upon the girl he was carrying. How best +to restore her, what to do for her comfort and her welfare when she +awoke--these were the thoughts that engrossed his attention now. + +He did not go to the front-door. He went to a long window which opened +upon the garden, and walked straight into his own study. A bright fire +burned in the grate; a lamp was placed on the table, where books and +papers were heaped in true bachelor confusion. A low broad sofa occupied +one side of the room; the Rector deposited his burden upon it, and then +devoted himself seriously to the consideration of the case before him. + +Enid lay white, motionless, rigid, where he had placed her; her eyelids +were not quite closed, and the eyes were visible between the lids; her +lips were open, but the teeth were tightly closed; a slight froth showed +itself about her mouth. + +"It is no faint," the Rector said to himself. "It is a fit, a nervous +seizure of some sort. If she does not revive in a minute or two, I shall +send for Ingledew"--Ingledew was the village doctor--"and in the +meantime I'll act on my own responsibility." + +Certain reviving measures were tried by him, and apparently with +success. The bluish whiteness of the girl's face changed to a more +natural color, her teeth relaxed, her eyelids drooped. Evandale drew a +quick breath of relief when he saw the change. He was able to pour a few +drops of brandy down her throat, to chafe the unresisting hands, to +bathe the cold forehead with some hope of affording relief. He did all +as carefully and tenderly as if he had been a woman, and he did not seem +to wish for any other aid. Indeed he had locked the door when he first +came in, as if to guard against the chance of interruption. + +Presently he heard her sigh; then tears appeared on her lashes and stole +down her cheeks. Her limbs fell into their natural position, and she put +up her hand at last with a feeble, uncertain movement, as if to wipe +away her tears. Evandale drew back a little--almost out of her sight. He +did not want to startle her. + +"Where am I?" she said, in a tremulous voice. + +"You are at the Rectory, Miss Vane," said Maurice Evandale quietly. "You +need not be at all alarmed; you may have heard that I am something of a +doctor, and, as I found that you did not seem well, I took the liberty +of bringing you here." + +"I don't remember," she said softly, opening her blue eyes and looking +at him--without shyness, as he noticed, but with a kind of wistful +trust which appealed to all the tenderness of his nature. "Did I faint?" +There was a slight emphasis on the last word. + +"You were unconscious for a time," said the Rector. "But I hope that you +feel better now." + +She gave him a curious look--whether of shame or of reproach he could +not tell--then buried her face in the pillows and began to cry quietly, +with her fingers before her eyes. + +"My dear Miss Vane, can I not do anything for you? I will call the +housekeeper," said the Rector, driven almost to desperation by the sight +of her tears. It was always very painful to him to see a woman cry. + +"No, no!" she said, raising her head for a moment. "No--don't call any +one, please; I shall be better directly. I know what was the matter +now." + +She dried her eyes and tried to calm herself, while the Rector stood by +the table in the middle of the room, nervously turning over books and +pamphlets, and pretending not to see that she was crying still. + +"Mr. Evandale," she said at length, "I don't know how to thank you for +being so kind. I must tell you----" + +"Don't tell me anything that is painful to you, Miss Vane." + +"It will not be painful to tell you after your great kindness to me. +I--I am subject to these attacks. The doctors say that they do not +exactly understand the case, but they think that I shall outgrow them in +course of time. I have not had one for six months till to-night." She +burst into tears again. + +"But, my dear child,"--he could not help saying it--the words slipped +from his lips against his will--"there is nothing to be so troubled +about; a little faintness now and then--many people suffer from it." + +"Ah, you do not understand!" she said quickly. "It is not faintness at +all. I am often quite conscious all the time. I remember now how you +found me and brought me here. I was not insensible all the time, but I +cannot move or speak when I am like that. It has been so ever +since--ever since my father died." She lowered her voice, as if she were +telling something that was terrible to her. + +"I see," said Mr. Evandale kindly--"it is an affection of the nerves, +which you will get over when you are stronger. I hope that you do not +make a trouble of that?" His eyes looked steadily into hers, and he +noted with pain the strange shadow that crossed them as he gazed. + +"My uncle and his wife," she murmured, "will not let anybody know. They +are--they are ashamed of it, and of me. If I do not get better, they say +that I shall some day go out of my mind. Oh, it is terrible--terrible to +feel a doom of this sort hanging over one, and to know that nothing can +avert it! I had hoped that it was all over--that I should not have +another attack; but you see--you see that I hoped in vain! It is like a +black shadow always hanging over me, and nothing--nothing will ever take +it away!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +For a moment even the stout-hearted Rector was appalled. But Enid, +although she was watching him intently, could not read anything but +unfaltering sympathy and ready cheer in the glance that he gave her and +the words that rose almost immediately to his tongue. + +"Courage! Doctors are very often wrong," he said. "Besides, I do not see +why such an ending should be feared, even if there were any +constitutional tendency of the kind in your family, which there is not." + +"No," said Enid, less timidly than before; "I believe there is not. I +have asked." + +"Your attacks are only nervous, my dear Miss Vane. The very fact of your +having--foolishly, I think--been, told the doctor's theories has made it +less possible for you to strive against the malady; and yet you say that +it has not made progress lately. You have not been ill in this way for +six months?" + +"No, not for six months." + +"Don't you see that the excitement and fatigue of to-day's expedition, +and the sad scene which we have just witnessed, would be likely to +increase any ailment of the nervous system? You must not argue anything +from what has happened to-day. Forgive me," the Rector broke off to say, +with a smile--"I am talking like a doctor to you, and my medical skill +is small indeed. It is only large enough to enable me to assure you, +Miss Vane, of my conviction that your fears are ungrounded, and that you +are tormenting yourself to no purpose. Will you try to take my advice +and turn your thoughts away from this unhappy subject?" + +"I will try," answered Enid, with rather a bewildered look. "But," she +added a moment later, "I thought that I ought to be always on my guard; +and one cannot be on one's guard without thinking about the matter." + +"Who told you that you ought to be always on your guard?" + +"Flossy--I mean Mrs. Vane. She is very kind, and watches me constantly. +Oh, I forgot," said the girl, starting to her feet, and clasping her +hands before her with a look of wretched nervous terror which went to +the Rector's heart--"I forgot--I forgot----" + +"What did you forget?" said Evandale, wondering for a moment whether her +mind was not unhinged by all that she had passed through that afternoon. +Then, touched by her evident distress, he went on more lightly, "I have +been forgetting that you will be missed from the Hall by this time, and +that the whole country-side will be out after you if we do not go back +at once. I will send for a carriage and drive down with you, if you will +allow me." + +Enid sank back on the sofa and assented listlessly. Mr. Evandale left +the room, and sent in his absence a comfortable-looking old housekeeper +with wine and biscuits, offers of tea and coffee, and all sorts of +medicaments suitable to a young lady who had been faint and unwell--as +was only to be expected after witnessing the death of Mrs. Meldreth, +that troublesome old person having expired quite suddenly that afternoon +when Miss Vane and Mr. Evandale were both at her bedside. Enid was not +inclined to accept any of Mrs. Heale's attentions, but, out of sheer +dislike to hurting her feelings, she at last accepted a cup of tea, and +was glad of the reviving warmth which it brought to her cold and tired +limbs. And then Mr. Evandale returned. + +"There is no carriage at the inn," he said; "and I am sorry to say, Miss +Vane, that I do not possess one that would suit you--I have only a high +dog-cart and a kicking mare; so I have taken the liberty of sending down +to the Hall and telling Mrs. Vane that you are here; and she will no +doubt send a carriage for you. I wrote a little note to her--it was the +best thing, I thought, that I could do." + +"Yes," said Enid, almost inaudibly. Then she leaned back and closed her +eyes, looking as if she felt sick and faint. + +Mrs. Heale glided away, in obedience to a nod from her master, and the +Rector was once more alone with Enid Vane. + +"I hope," he said, with a slight hesitation, which was rather graceful +in a man of his commanding stature and singular loftiness of bearing--"I +hope, Miss Vane, you will not think that I have been intrusive when I +tell you that I entreated Sabina Meldreth to confess anything that might +weigh upon her conscience, as her mother had confessed to you." + +A great wave of crimson suddenly passed over Enid's pallid cheeks and +brow. She raised a pair of startled eyes to the Rector's' face, and then +said quickly-- + +"Did she tell you?" + +"No, Miss Vane, she did not." + +"Then will you promise me," said Enid, with sudden earnestness, "never +to ask her again?" + +"How can I do that? It may be my duty to ask her for her soul's sake; +you would be the last to counsel me to be silent then." + +"Oh, but you do not understand! I know now--I know what is weighing on +Sabina Meldreth's mind; and I have forgiven her." + +"It was a wrong done to you?" + +"Yes--to me." + +"And to no one else?" Enid's head drooped. + +"I don't know--I can't tell. I must think it over." + +"Yes--think and pray," said the Rector gravely but tenderly; "and +remember that truth should always prevail." + +"I know--I believe it; but it would do more harm than good." + +"Miss Vane, if I am indiscreet, I trust you will pardon me. If by any +chance this confession has reference to the death of your father, Mr. +Sydney Vane, it is your duty to make it known, at any cost to your own +feelings." + +The girl looked up with an expression of relief. + +"It does not bear on that subject at all, Mr. Evandale." + +"I am glad. You will forgive me for alluding to it? A wild fancy crossed +my mind that it had something to do with that." + +"I shall never forget your kindness," said Enid gratefully. + +"And if you are in perplexity--in any trouble--will you trust me to do +all for you that is in my power? If you ever want help, you will +remember that I am ready--ready for all--all that you might require----" + +He never finished his speech, which was perhaps fortunate for him. With +Enid's soft eyes, slightly distressed and appealing in expression, +looking straight into his own, with the sight before him of her pale, +wistful face, the lovely lips which had fallen into so pathetic a curve +of weariness and sorrow, how could the Rector be expected to preserve +his self-possession? His thoughts and his words became confused; he did +not quite know what he was saying, nor whether she heard and understood +him aright. He was glad to remember afterwards that the expression of +her countenance did not change; he brought neither alarm nor +astonishment into her eyes; there were only gentle gratitude and a kind +of hopelessness, the meaning of which he could not fathom, in the girl's +still raised listening face. But at that very moment a knock came to the +door; and half to the Rector's relief, half to his embarrassment, the +General himself walked in. + +"Ah, thank Heaven, she is here!" were the old man's first words. "We +thought she was lost, Mr. Evandale--we did indeed. I met your messenger +on the way to the Hall, and sent him on for the carriage. A pretty time +you've given us, young lady!" he said, smiling at Enid and pinching her +chin, and then grasping the Rector's hand with a look of relief and +gratitude which told its own story. + +"Miss Vane has been a good deal distressed and upset," said Mr. +Evandale. "She was at Mrs. Meldreth's bedside when the old woman died +this afternoon, and the scene was naturally very painful. I brought her +here that she might rest and recover herself a little before going +home." + +He wanted to explain and simplify matters for Enid's benefit; he had +grasped the fact that her uncle's entrance was making her exceedingly +nervous. He put it down to fear of the General's anger, but it +afterwards occurred to him that Mrs. Meldreth's confession might, for +some reason or other, be the cause of her agitation. Certainly her +distress and confusion were at that moment very marked. She had risen +from her seat at his entrance, her color changing to crimson and then to +dead white more than once during the Rector's speech. It settled at last +into a painful pallor, which so impressed the General that he did not +even administer the gentle rebuke which he had intended Enid to receive +for her infringement of the rules on which her life was based. He could +not scold her when she stood before him, pale to the very lips, her +eyelids cast down, her hands joined together and nervously trembling, a +very embodiment of conscious guilt and shame. + +"Bless my soul, she does look upset, and no mistake!" he exclaimed, in +his hearty and impulsive way. "Come, my dear--don't be so miserable +about it! I daresay you did not know how late it was, and the poor woman +could not be left. Yes, I quite understand; and I will explain it all to +your aunt. Sit down and rest until the carriage comes, as the Rector +does not mind our invasion of his study." + +Mr. Evandale made some polite but slightly incoherent rejoinder, to +which nobody listened, for the General's attention was at that moment +completely monopolised by Enid, who on feeling his arm around her, +suddenly hid her white face on his shoulder and burst into tears. + +"Oh, uncle," she sobbed, "you are so kind--so good! Forgive me!" + +"Forgive you, my dear? There is nothing to forgive!" said the astonished +General, in a slightly reproving tone. "Of course I do not like your +staying out so late on a winter afternoon, but you need not make such a +fuss about it, my child. You must control yourself, control yourself, +you know. There, there--don't cry! What will Mr. Evandale think of you? +Why, bless me, Evandale has gone! Well, well, you need not cry--I am not +angry at all--only stop crying--there's a good girl!" + +"Say you forgive me, uncle!" moaned Enid, heedless of his rather +disconnected remarks, which certainly had no bearing at all on the +dilemma forced upon her by the nature of Mrs. Meldreth's confession. + +"Forgive you, my dear? Why, of course I do! You're a little upset, are +you not? But you must not give way like this--it'll never do--never do," +said the General, patting her on the back benevolently. "There now--dry +your eyes, like a good girl; and I think I hear the carriage in the +lane, so we must be going. You've no idea how anxious about you poor +dear Flossy has been all the afternoon." + +He was pleased to see that her tears were checked. She raised herself +from his shoulder and brushed away the salt drops with which her cheeks +were wet; but she sobbed no longer, and she stood perfectly still and +calm. He was not a man of keen observation; and, if the cold white look +which suddenly overspread her countenance had any meaning, it was not +one that he was likely to read aright. + +A servant brought the intelligence that the carriage was at the door, +and shortly afterwards the Rector appeared. He had slipped away when +Enid burst into tears, hoping that she might confide to the General what +she had refused to confide to him; but a glance at the faces of the two +told him that his hopes had not been realised. The kindly complacency +which characterised the General's countenance was undisturbed, while +Enid's face bore the impress of mingled perplexity and despair. It +seemed to Maurice Evandale that each expression would have been changed +if Enid had bared her heart to her uncle. He did not know--he could not +even guess--what her secret was; but he instinctively detected the +presence of trouble, perhaps of danger. + +The two men parted very cordially; for the General was deterred from +seeing much of the Rector only by Mrs. Vane's dislike of him, and his +kindly feeling was all the more effusive because he had so few +opportunities of expressing it. Enid took leave of the Rector with a +look, a wan little smile which touched him inexpressibly. + +"You have part of my secret," it seemed to say. "Help me to bear the +burden; I am weak and need your aid." He vowed to himself that he would +do all that a man could do--all that she might ever ask. But Enid was +quite unconscious of having made that mute appeal. + +She lay back in a corner of the carriage, saying she was too tired to +talk. The General left her in peace, but took one of her little hands +and held it tenderly between his own. He could not imagine why it +trembled and fluttered so much, why once it seemed to try to drag itself +away. The poor girl must be quite overdone, he thought to himself; she +was far too kind, too tender-hearted to go about amongst the village +people and witness all their woes; she was not strong enough to do such +work--he must speak to Flossy about it. And, while he was thus thinking, +the carriage turned in at the park gates and presently halted at the +great front-door. The servants came forward to assist the General, who +was a little stiff in his joints now and then; and he, in his turn, gave +an arm to Enid as she alighted. The old butler looked at her curiously +as she entered and stood for a moment, dazed and bewildered, in the +hall. Miss Enid was always pale, but he had never seen her look so white +and scared. She must be ill, he decided, and especially when she shrank +so oddly as he deferentially mentioned his mistress' name. + +"My mistress hoped that you would come to her sitting room as soon as +you arrived, ma'am," he said. + +She made a strange answer. + +"No, no--I cannot--I cannot see her to-night!" + +The General was instantly at her side. + +"Enid, my dear, what do you mean? Your aunt wants to see you. She won't +be vexed with you--I'll make it all right with her," he added, in a +lower tone. "She has been terribly anxious about you. Come--I will take +you to her room." + +"Not just now, uncle--not to-night," said the girl, in a tone of mingled +pain and dread. "I--I can't bear it--I am ill--I must be alone now!" + +"My dear child, you must go to bed and rest. I'll explain it all to +Flossy. She will come to see you." + +"No, no--I can't see any one! Forgive me, uncle; I hardly know what I am +saying or doing. I shall be better to-morrow. Till then--till then at +least I must be left in peace!" + +She broke from his detaining hand with something so like violence, that +the General looked after her in wonder as she ran up-stairs. + +"She must be ill indeed!" he murmured thoughtfully to himself, as he +wended his way to his wife's boudoir, to make his report to Flossy. + +Meanwhile Enid's progress up-stairs was barred for a moment by her +little playmate and scholar, Dick, who ran out of his nursery to greet +her with a cry of joy. To his surprise and mortification, cousin Enid +did not stop to kiss him--did not even give him a pleasant word or +smile. With a stifled cry she disengaged her frock from his hand, +breaking from him as she had broken from the General just before, and +sped away to her own room. He heard her turn the key in her door, and, +for the first time realising the enormity of the woe that had come upon +him--the unprecedented fact that cousin Enid had been unkind--he lifted +up his voice and bursted into a storm of sobs, which would at any +ordinary time have brought her instantly to his side to comfort and +caress. + +But this time Enid either did not hear or did not heed. She was +crouching down by the side of her bed, with her face hidden in the +coverlet, and her hands pressed over her ears, as if to exclude all +sound of the world without; and between the difficult passionate sobs by +which her whole frame was shaken, one phrase escaped from her lips from +time to time--a phrase which would have been unintelligible enough to an +ordinary hearer, but would have recalled a long and shameful story to +the minds of Florence Vane and one other woman in the world. + +"Sabina Meldreth's child!" she muttered to herself not knowing what she +said. "How can I bear it? Oh, my poor uncle! Sabina Meldreth's child!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Hubert Lepel had promised to spend Christmas Day at Beechfield, but for +some unexplained reason he stayed away, sending at the last moment a +telegram which his sister felt to be unsatisfactory. Flossy did not +often exert herself to obtain a guest; but on this occasion she wrote a +rather reproachful letter to her brother, and begged him not to fail to +visit them on New Year's eve. "The General was disappointed," she wrote, +"and so was someone else." Hubert thought that she meant herself, felt a +thrill of wondering compassion, and duly presented himself at the Hall +on the thirty-first of December. + +He saw Flossy alone in her luxurious boudoir before anyone else knew of +his arrival. He thought her looking ill and haggard, and asked after her +health. To his surprise, the question made her angry. + +"Of course I am not well--I am never well," she answered; "but I am no +worse than usual. There is someone else in the house whose appearance +you had better enquire after." + +"You are fond of talking in riddles. Do you mean the General?" said +Hubert drily. + +"No, not the General," Florence answered, setting her lips. + +Hubert shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. He had not an +idea of what she meant; but when, shortly before dinner, he first saw +Enid, a light flashed across his mind--Flossy meant that the girl was +ill. He had certainly been rather dense and rather unkind, he thought to +himself, not to ask after her. And how delicate she was looking! What +was the matter with her? It was not merely that she was thinner and +paler, but that an indefinable change had come over her countenance. The +shadow that had always lurked in her sweet eyes seemed to have fallen at +last over her whole face, darkening its innocent candor, obscuring its +tranquil beauty; the look of truthfulness and of ignorance of evil had +gone. No child-face was it now--rather that of a woman who had been +forced to look evil in the face, and was repelled and sickened at the +sight. There was no joy in the eyes with which Enid now looked upon the +world. + +Hubert watched her steadily through the long and elaborate meal which +the General thought appropriate to New Year's eve, noting her weariness, +her languor, her want of interest in anything that went on, and could +not understand the change. Was this girl--sick apparently in body and +mind--the guileless maiden who had listened with such flattering +attention to the stories of his wanderings in foreign lands, when he +last came down to Beechfield Hall? He tried her with similar tales--they +had no interest for her now. She was silent, _distraite_, preoccupied. +Still gentle and sweet to every one, she was no longer bright; smiles +seemed to be banished for ever from her lips. + +She and Florence scarcely spoke to each other. The General did not seem +to notice this fact; but Hubert had not been half an hour in their +company before he recognised its force. They must have quarrelled, he +said to himself rather angrily--Flossy had probably tried to tyrannise, +and the girl had resented her interference. Flossy was a fool; he would +speak to her about it as soon as he had the opportunity, and get the +truth from her--forgetting for the moment that, if ever a man set +himself an impossible task, it was this one of getting the truth from +Flossy. + +Before dinner was ended, the sound of footsteps, the tuning of +instruments; the clearing of voices could be distinguished in the hall. +Hubert glanced at his host for explanation, which was speedily given. + +"It is the village choir," he said confidentially. "They come on +Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, and sing in the hall. When they have +finished, they all have a glass of wine and drink our healths before +they go down to supper in the kitchen. It's an old custom." + +"And a very disagreeable one," said Mrs. Vane calmly. "Your ears will be +tortured, Hubert, by the atrocious noise they make. With your +permission, Enid and I will go to the drawing-room;" and, glancing at +Enid, she rose from her chair. + +"My dear Flossy, I entreat of you to stay!" said the General. "You have +never gone away before--it would hurt their feelings immensely. I have +sent word for Dick to be brought down; I mean them to drink his health +too, bless the little man! It will be quite a slight to us all if you go +away." + +Flossy smiled ironically, but she looked at Enid in what Hubert thought +a rather peculiar way. He knew his sister's face very well, and he could +not but fancy that there was some apprehension in the glance. Enid sat +still, looking at the tablecloth before her. Her face had grown +perceptibly paler, but she did not move. A little spot of red suddenly +showed itself on each of Mrs. Vane's delicate cheeks. + +"Well, Enid, what do you say?" she asked, with less languor of utterance +than usual. "Do you wish to suffer a purgatory of discord? Come--let us +go to the drawing-room; nobody will notice whether we are here or not." + +"My dear, I said I wished you to stay," began the General anxiously; but +Florence only laughed a little wildly, and beat her fan once or twice +upon the table. + +"Come, Enid. We have had music enough, surely! You are coming?" + +"No, I am going to stay here," said the girl, without raising her eyes. +Her tone was exceedingly cold. + +Flossy bit her lip, laughed again, and sank back into her chair with an +air of would-be indifference. + +"If you stay, I suppose I must," she said lightly; but there was a +strange glitter in her narrowed eyes, and she bit her lip with her +little white teeth so strongly and so sharply as to draw the blood. + +"Here comes Dick," said the General, whose placidity was quite restored +by his wife's consent to stay--"here he comes! There, my boy--seen Uncle +Hubert yet? Go and kiss him, and then come back to me and I'll give you +some dessert." + +The fair-haired little fellow looked smaller and shyer than Hubert +remembered him. He had very little color in his face, but his eyes +lighted up joyfully when he saw the visitor, and he put his arms around +Hubert's neck with such evident satisfaction that his uncle felt quite +flattered. But, when Dick was perched upon his father's knee, and the +singers had struck up their first florid chant, he was surprised to find +that Enid had raised her blue eyes and was steadily regarding him with a +searching yet sorrowful look, which seemed as if it would explore the +inmost recesses of his soul. For various reasons Hubert felt that he +could not long endure that gaze. The best way of stopping it was to +return it, and therefore, although with an effort which was almost +agonising, he suddenly looked back into her eyes with a composure and +resolute boldness which caused her own very speedily to sink. The color +rose to her face, she gave a slight quickly-suppressed sigh, and she did +not look up again. Puzzled, troubled, vaguely suspicious, Hubert +wondered whether his calm reception of her gaze had silenced the doubt +of him, which he was nearly sure that he read in those sad blue eyes. He +knew that Flossy was watching him and watching her, and he envied the +General his guileless enjoyment of all that was going on, and little +Dick's innocent pleasure in what was to him a great and unwonted treat. + +When two songs had been sung, with much growling of the bass and a +general misconception of the functions of a tenor, with great scraping +of violin strings and much want of harmony amongst the 'cellos, the +General called the butler and told him to open the door. The dining-room +had two wide folding-doors opening into the hall, and, when they were +flung open, a motley crowd of village faces could be seen. A row of +shrill-voiced chorister boys, much muffled up in red comforters, stood +foremost; behind them came the singing men and the performers on +instruments--a diverse little crowd of men and youths. In the +background, some six or eight singing women and girls presented a +half-bold, half-shy appearance, as knowing that they were there on +sufferance only, and that the Rector had been doing his best to prevent +their going out at nights to sing with the village choir. But the +General had "backed them up;" he did not like the discontinuance of old +customs, and was inclined to think the Rector unduly strict. Accordingly +they stood in their accustomed places, but, as most of them felt, +probably for the last time on New Year's Eve. + +The faces of men and women and children, with one exception, were +wreathed in smiles; but that one exception was notable indeed. Hubert, +with his trained powers of keen observation, observed a lowering face +directly. It was that of tall young woman neatly dressed in black--a +young woman with fair hair curled over her forehead and rather prominent +blue eyes--a coarse-looking girl, he thought, in spite of her pale +coloring and sombre garments. Her brows were drawn together over her +eyes in an angry frown; she was biting her lip, much as Flossy had been +doing, and there was not a gleam of good humor or pleasure in her eyes. +Hubert wondered idly why she had come, when she seemed to enjoy her +occupation so very little. + +The opening of the doors was the signal for a volley of clapping, +stamping, and shouting. When this was over, the butler and his helpers +appeared with trays of well-filled glasses, which were taken by the +members of the choir, down to the smallest child present, with great +alacrity. The fair woman in the background was once more an +exception--she took no wine. + +The General filled his own glass and signed for Hubert to do the same +for the ladies. He then stood up and prepared to make his usual New +Year's Eve speech. But this time he did what he had never done +before--he lifted his little son on to the chair on which he had been +sitting, and made his oration with one arm round little Dick's slender +shoulders. To Hubert it seemed a pretty sight. Why did it give no +pleasure to Florence and to Enid? Florence's eyes glittered, and a spot +of blood was painfully conspicuous on her white lips; but Enid, sitting +silent with downcast eyes, was now unusually flushed. A student of +character might have said that, while Flossy seemed merely excited, +Enid--the timid, delicate, pure-minded Enid--looked ashamed. + +"My dear friends," the General began, "I'm very much obliged to you for +coming, you know--very much obliged. So are my wife and my niece, and my +little boy here--so far as he understands anything about it--very much +obliged to you all. You know I ain't much of a speech-maker--'actions +speak louder than words' was always my maxim"--great cheering--"and I +take leave to say that I think it is a very good maxim too"--tremendous +applause. "My friends, it's the end of one year, and it will soon be the +beginning of another. Let's hope that the new year will be better than +the last. I don't suppose I shall have many more to spend amongst you, +and that is why I wish to introduce--so to speak--my little boy to you. +As my son and heir, my friends, he will one day stand in the place which +I now occupy, and speak to you perhaps as I am speaking now. I can only +ask you to behave as well to him as you have always behaved to me. I +trust that he will prove himself worthy of his name and of his race, and +that generations yet unborn will bless the day when Beechfield Hall came +into the hands of a younger Richard Vane. My friends, if you drink my +health to-night, I shall ask you also to drink the health of my boy--to +wish him happiness, and that he may prove a better landlord, a better +magistrate, and a better man than ever I have been." + +There was a tumult of applause, mingled with cries of "No, no!"--"Can't +be better than you have been, sir!" and "Hurrah for the General!" + +Hubert, smiling with pleasure at his host's genial tone, was amazed at +the gloom which sat upon the brows of three persons in the +room--Florence, Enid, and the woman in black. There was no other +likeness between them, but that air of reserve and gravity made them +look as if some incommunicable bond, some similarity of feeling or +experience, held them back from the general hilarity which surrounded +them. + +"A happy New Year to you all, my friends!" said the General, in his +hearty voice. "Here's to your good healths! There, Dick, my man--drink +too, and say, 'A happy New Year to all of you!'" + +Little Dick took a sip from his father's glass, and gravely uplifted his +childish treble. + +"A happy New Year to all of you!" he said; and men and women alike broke +out into delighted response. + +"Same to you, sir, and many of them!" "Bless his little heart," one of +the women was heard to murmur, "he's just the image of his mamma!" But, +if she thought to give pleasure by this remark, she was far from +successful. Mrs. Vane threw so angry a glance in her direction that the +woman shrank back aghast; and the girl in black, who stood in the +background, laughed between her teeth. + +The function was over at last. The choir trooped away to the servants' +premises, where a substantial supper awaited them; the General kissed +little Dick, and strode away with him to his nurse; and Mrs. Vane rose +from the table with an air of studied weariness and disgust. + +"Thank Heaven, that is over!" she said. "I am tired to death of this +senseless old practice! If we have it another year, I shall say I am ill +and go to bed. Come, Enid--let us go to the drawing-room and have some +music." + +The girl rose and followed obediently; but she vouchsafed no answer to +Mrs. Vane's remarks. As the General had disappeared, Hubert thought that +he too might as well accompany the ladies to the drawing-room, +especially if Enid were about to play. But it did not seem that she was +inclined to do so. She sat down in the darkest corner of the room, and +leaned her head upon her hand. Flossy established herself in a luxurious +lounging-chair, and took up a novel. Hubert hesitated for a moment or +two, then went over to Enid's side. + +"Are we not to have any music to-night?" + +"Have you not had plenty?" she asked wearily. + +"Music! You call that music?" + +She did not answer; something in her voice, her attitude, seemed to show +that she was shedding tears. He was intensely sorry for her trouble, +whatever it might be; but he scarcely knew how to comfort her. + +"It would be good for us all if you would play," he said softly. "We +want consoling--strengthening--uplifting." + +"Ah, but music does not always do that!" she answered, with a new note +of passion in her voice. "When we are happy, music helps us--but not +when we are sad." + +"Why not?" said Hubert, more from the desire to make her talk than from +any wish to hear her views on that particular subject. + +But she spoke eagerly in reply, yet softly, so that her words should not +reach the ears of the silent, graceful, languid woman by the fire. + +"I can't tell why," she said; "but everything is different. Once music +delighted me, even when I was a little sad; but now it seems to harrow +my very soul. It brings thoughts into my mind of all the misery of the +world. If I hear music, I shed tears--I don't know why. Everything is +changed." + +"My dear child," said Hubert, "you are unhappy!" + +"Yes," she said slowly, with a pathetic tremor of the voice--"yes, I am +very--very unhappy." + +"Can I do nothing at all to make you happier?" he said. + +The question was left unanswered. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"My dear Hubert," said Mrs. Vane, "if you cannot see what is the matter +with Enid, you must be blind indeed!" + +"Why should I see what is the matter with her more than anybody else?" +asked Hubert, who was moving restlessly from place to place, now halting +before the window of his sister's sitting-room, now plucking a leaf from +one of the flowering plants in a gilded _etagere_, now teasing the white +cockatoo in its fine cage, or stirring up the spaniel with the tip of +his boot. All the teasing was good-naturedly done, and provoked no +rancour in the mind of bird or beast; but it showed an unwonted +excitement of feeling on his part, and was observed by his sister with a +slightly ironical smile. + +"If you will sit still for a little while, I will tell you perhaps," she +said; "but, so long as you stray round the room in that aimless manner, +I shall keep my communications to myself." + +"I beg your pardon; I did not know that I was disturbing you. Well," +said Hubert, seating himself resolutely in a chair near her own, and +devoting his attention apparently to the dissection of a spray of +scented geranium-leaf, "tell me what is the matter, and I will listen +discreetly. I am really concerned about Enid; she is neither well nor +happy." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"It is easy to be seen that she is not well," said Hubert, a very slight +smile curving his lips under the heavy dark moustache as he looked down +at the leaf which he was twisting in his hand; "and I think her +unhappiness is quite as obvious. What is it, Flossy? You ought to know. +You are the girl's chaperon, adviser, friend, or whatever you like to +call it; you stand in the place----" + +He stopped abruptly. He forgot sometimes that ghastly story of his +sister's earlier life; sometimes it came back to him with hideous +distinctness. At that moment he did not like to say to Flossy, "You +stand in her mother's place." And yet it was the truth. Had it been for +Enid's good or harm, he suddenly wondered, that Florence had become the +General's wife? + +"I understand what you mean," said Flossy quite sweetly, though there +was no very amiable look in her velvety-brown eyes. "I assure you that I +should be very glad to make more of a friend of Enid if she would allow +me; but she does not like me." + +"Instinct!" thought Hubert involuntarily, but he did not say it aloud. +With the extraordinary quickness, however, which Florence occasionally +showed, she divined the purport of his reflection almost at once. + +"You think, no doubt, that it is natural," she said; "but I do not agree +with you. Enid has no great penetration; she has never been able to read +my character--which, after all, is not so bad as you imagine." + +"I do not imagine anything about it; I do not think it bad," Hubert +interposed rather hurriedly. "You have changed very much. But have we +not agreed to let old histories alone?" + +"I did not intend to revive them. I meant only to assure you that Enid +has met with the tenderest care and guidance from me--as far, at least, +as it lay in me to give it to her, and whenever she would accept it." + +"You make two very important reservations." + +"I know I do, but I cannot help it. I was never devotedly fond of +children, and I was once Enid's governess. I do not think that she ever +forgets that fact." + +"Well, come to the point," said Hubert, rather impatiently. "What is the +matter with her now?" + +Florence laughed softly, and eyed him over her fan. She always used a +fan, even in the depth of winter--and indeed her boudoir was so +luxuriously warm and fragrant that it did not there seem out of place. +She was wearing a loose tea-gown of peacock-blue plush over a satin +petticoat of the palest rose-color--a daring combination which she had +managed to harmonise extremely well--and the fan which she now held to +her mouth was of pale rose-colored feathers. As Hubert looked at her and +waited for his answer, he was struck by two things--first by the +choiceness and beauty of her surroundings, and secondly by the fatigued +expression of her eyes, which were set in hollows of purple shadows, and +almost veiled by lids which had the faintly reddened tint which comes of +wakefulness at night. + +"I shall next ask what is the matter with you," he said. "You really do +not look well, Florence!" + +"Do I not?" She laid down her fan, took up a hand-glass set in silver +from a table at her side, and studied her face in the mirror for a few +seconds with some intentness. "You are right," she said, when she put it +down; "I am growing hatefully old and haggard and ugly. What can one do? +Would a winter in the South give me back my good looks, do you think? +Perhaps I had better consult a doctor when I go up to town. I am not so +old yet that I need lose all my 'beauty,' as people used to call it, am +I?" + +"Why do you care so much?" Hubert asked. He fancied that there was +something deeper in her anxiety than the mere vanity of a pretty woman +whose youth was fast fleeting away. + +"Why does every woman care? For my husband's sake, of course," she +answered, with a slight laugh, but a look of carking care and pain in +her haggard eyes. "If I leave off looking pretty and bright, how am I to +know that he will care for me any longer? And, if not----" + +"If not! You are a mystery to me, Florence; you never professed before +to trouble yourself about your husband's love." + +"If I am a mystery, you are a perfect baby, my dear boy--I might almost +say a perfect fool--in some respects. If he ceases to love me, he--don't +you know that he may still leave me penniless? I had no settlements." + +Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she said the words. + +"Is that it?" said Hubert coldly. "I did not give you credit for so much +worldly wisdom, Flossy. If that is your view of the case, I wonder that +you do not pay a little more attention to the General's wishes +sometimes. I have seen you treat him with very little consideration." + +"He is so wearisome! One cannot always be on one's good behavior," +Flossy murmured; "and, as long as one looks nice and gives him a word or +two now and then, just to keep him in good-humor----" + +"So long, you think, he will be kind to you? Florence, you do not +understand the General's really noble nature. He is incapable of +unkindness to any living soul--least of all capable of it to you, whom +he loves so dearly. Do try to appreciate him a little more! He is +devoted to you, both as his wife and as the mother of his child." He +could not tell why she turned her head aside with a sharp gesture of +annoyance. + +"The child--always the child!" she exclaimed. "I wish I had never had a +child at all!" + +"We are straying from the point," said her brother coldly; "and we can +do no good by discussing your relations with your husband. I want to +know--as you say you can tell me--why Enid looks so ill." + +Flossy took up her fan and began to examine the tips of the feathers. + +"There is only one reason," she said slowly, "why a girl ever looks like +that. Only one thing turns a girl of seventeen into a drooping, +die-away, lackadaisical creature, such as Enid is just now." + +"Speak kindly of her, at any rate," said Hubert. "She is a woman like +yourself, and there is only one interpretation to be put upon your +words." + +"Naturally. You, as a novelist, dramatist, and poet, must know it well +enough," said his sister calmly. "Well, remember that you have insisted +on my telling you. Enid is in love. That is all. Nothing to make such a +fuss about it, is it?" + +Hubert was silent for a minute or two. His brow was contracted, as if +with vexation or deep thought. Then he said abruptly-- + +"I suppose it's that good-looking parson in the village. There's no +other man whom she seems to know so well. I cannot say that you have +taken very great care of her, Florence." + +"Are you really blind, or are you pretending?" said Mrs. Vane, looking +at him with calm curiosity, "You are not quite such a fool as you make +yourself out to be, are you? My dear Hubert, are you not aware that you +are a singularly handsome and attractive man, and that you have laid +siege to the poor child's heart ever since your first arrival here last +autumn?" + +Hubert started from his seat as if he had been stung. + +"Impossible!" he cried. + +"Not at all impossible. She has seen few men in her short life--she has +been very carefully guarded, in spite of your sneer at my want of +caution--and the attentions of a man like yourself were quite new to +her. What could you expect?" + +"Attentions!" groaned Hubert. "I never paid her any attentions, save as +a cousin and a friend." + +"Exactly; but she did not understand." + +There was a short silence. He stood with his arm on the mantelpiece, +looking through the window at the snow-covered landscape outside. His +face had turned pale, and his lips were firmly set. Presently he said, +in a low tone-- + +"You must be mistaken. Surely she can never have let you know what her +feelings are on such a point? You say that she does not confide in you. +How can you know?" + +"There are other ways of reading a girl's heart as well as a man's +coarse way of having everything in black and white," said Flossy +composedly. "I am sure of it. She is in love with you, and that is why +she looks so ill." + +"It must not be! You must let her know--gently, but decidedly--that I am +not the man for her--that there is an unsurmountable barrier between +us." + +"What is it? Are you married already?" + +"Florence"--there was a sound of anguish in his voice, "how could I +marry a girl whose father I----" + +"Hush, hush! For mercy's sake, be quiet! You should never say such +things--never think them even. Walls have ears sometimes, and spoken +words cannot be recalled. Never say that, even to me. At the same time, +I do not see the obstacle." + +"Florence! Well, I might expect it from you. You have married Sydney +Vane's brother!" + +She did not wince. She sat steadily regarding him over the tips of her +rose-colored feather fan. + +"And you," she said, "will marry Sydney Vane's daughter." + +"God keep me from committing such a sin!" + +"Hubert, this is mere sentimental folly," said his sister, with some +earnestness. + +"We have both made up our minds that the past is dead--why do you at +every moment rake up its ashes?" + +"It is in some ways unfortunate that Enid should have chosen to love +you; but, as the matter stands, I cannot see that you have any other +choice than to marry her." + +"What on earth makes you say so?" + +"I thought that you would go through a good deal of unpleasantness for +the sake of saving her from trouble. You have said as much." + +"I have no right to save her from anything. She must forget me." + +"That is sheer nonsense--cowardly nonsense too!" said Mrs. Vane. "If +Enid were on the brink of a precipice, would you hesitate to draw her +back? I tell you that she is breaking her heart for you, and that, if +you are free to marry, and not inordinately selfish, your only way out +of the difficulty is to marry her." + +"She would get over it." + +"No; she would die as her mother died--of a broken heart." + +"You can speak so calmly, remembering who killed her mother--for what +you and I are responsible!" + +"Look, Hubert--if you cannot speak calmly yourself, you had better not +speak at all. You seem to think that I am cold and callous. I suppose I +am; and yet I am more anxious in this matter to keep Enid from grief and +pain than you seem to be. I do not like to see her looking pale and +sad. I would do anything within my power to help her, and I thought--I +thought that you would do the same. It seems that you shrink from the +task." + +"It is so horrible--so unnatural! How can I ask her to be mine--I, with +my hands stained----" + +"Hush! I will not have you say those words! We both know--if we are to +speak of the past--that it was an honorable contest enough--a fair +fight--a meeting such as no man of honor could refuse. You would have +fallen if he had not. It is purely morbid, this brooding over the +consequences of your actions. Everybody who knew the circumstances would +have said that you were in the right. I say it myself, although at my +own cost. To marry Enid now because she loves you will be the only way +you can take to repair the harm that was done in the past and to shield +her for the future." + +It was not often that Florence spoke so long or so energetically; and +Hubert, in spite of his revolt of feeling at the prospect held out to +him, was impressed by her words. After a few moments' silence, he sat +down again and began to argue the matter with her from every possible +point of view. He told her it was probable that Enid did not know her +own mind; that she would be miserable if she married a man who could not +love her; that the whole world would cry shame on him if it ever learned +the circumstances of her father's death; that Enid herself would be the +first to reproach him, and would indeed bitterly hate him if she ever +knew. + +"If she ever knew--if the world ever knew!" said Florence scornfully. +Hitherto she had been very quiet and let her brother say his say. "As if +she or the world were ever going to know! There is no way in which the +truth can be known unless one of us tells it; and I ask you, is that a +thing that either of us is very likely to do? It would mean social ruin +for us--utter and irretrievable ruin! If we only hold our tongues, Enid +and the world will never know." + +"That is true," he answered moodily; and then he sat so long in one +position, with his arms crossed on his breast; and his eyes fixed on +vacancy, that Florence asked him with some curiosity of what he was +thinking. + +"I was wondering," he said, "whether that poor wretch Westwood found his +undeserved punishment more galling than I sometimes find the bonds of +secrecy and falsehood and dishonor that bind me now. He at any rate has +gained his freedom; but I am in bondage still. I have my sentence--a +life sentence--to work out." + +"He is free now, certainly," Florence answered, with an odd intonation +of her voice; "so I do not think that you need trouble yourself about +him. Think of Enid rather, and of her needs." + +"Free? Yes--he is dead," said Hubert quickly, replying to something in +her tone rather than to her words. "He died as I told you--some time +ago." + +"You read it in the newspaper?" + +"Yes." + +"And you never saw that next day the report of his death was +contradicted?" + +"Florence, what do you mean?" + +"You went away from England just then with a mind at ease, did you not? +But I was here, with nothing to do but to think and brood and read; and +I read more than that. There were two men named Westwood at Portland, +and the one who died--as was stated in next day's paper--was not the one +we knew." + +"And he is in prison all this time? Don't you see that that makes my +guilt the worse--brings back all the intolerable burden, renders it +simply impossible that I should ever make an innocent girl happy?" His +voice was hoarse, and the veins upon his forehead stood out like knotted +cords. + +"Sit down," said Flossy calmly, "and listen to me. I have an odd story +to tell you. The man of whom we speak managed to do what scarcely +another convict has done in recent times--he escaped. He nearly killed +the warder in his flight, but not quite--so that counts for nothing. It +is rumored that he reached America, where he is living contentedly in +the backwoods. I can show you the newspaper account of his escape. I +thought," she added a little cynically, "that it might relieve your mind +to hear of it; but it does not seem to do so. I fancied that you would +be glad. Would you rather that he were dead?" + +"No, no; Heaven knows that I rejoice in his escape!" cried her brother, +sitting down again with his forehead bowed upon his clasped hands and +his elbows on his knees. "I have blood-guiltiness enough already upon my +soul. Glad? I am so glad, Florence, that I can almost dare to thank God +that Westwood is alive and has escaped. I--I shall never escape!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Enid had the look of a veritable snow-queen thought Hubert, as he came +upon her a day or two later in a little _salon_ opening out of the +drawing-room, and found her gazing out upon a landscape of which all the +lines were blurred in falling snow. She was dressed in a white woollen +gown, which was confined at her waist by a simple white ribbon, and had +white fur at the throat and wrists. + +The dead-white suited her delicate complexion and golden hair; she had +the soft and stainless look of a newly fallen snowflake, which to touch +were to destroy. Hubert almost felt as if he ought not to speak to one +so far removed from him--one set so high above him by her innocence and +purity. And yet he was bound to speak. + +"You like the snow?" he began. + +"Yes--as much as I like anything." + +"At your age," said Hubert slowly, "you should like everything." + +"You think I am so very young!" + +"Well--seventeen." + +"Oh, but I don't feel young at all!" the girl said half wearily, half +bitterly. "I seem to have lived centuries! You know, cousin Hubert, +there are very few girls of my age who have had all the trouble that I +have had." + +"You have had a great deal--you have been the victim of a tragedy," said +Hubert gloomily, not able to deny the truth of her remark, even while he +was forced to remember that many other girls of Enid's age had far more +real and tangible sorrows than she. The vision of a girl pleading with +him to find her work flashed suddenly across his mind; her words about +London Bridge--"her last resource"--occurred to him; and his common +sense told him that after all Enid's position, sad and lonely though it +was, could scarcely be called so pitiable as that of Cynthia West. But +it was not his part to tell her so; his own share in producing Enid's +misfortunes sealed his lips. + +What he said however was almost too direct an allusion to the past to be +thought sympathetic by Enid. A very natural habit had grown up at +Beechfield Hall of never mentioning her father's fate; and this silence +had had the bad result of making her brood over the matter without +daring to reveal her thoughts. The word "tragedy" seemed to her almost +like a profanation. It sent the hot blood rushing into her face at once. +Enid's organisation was peculiarly delicate and sensitive; her knowledge +of the publicity given to the details of her father's death was torture +to her. She was glad of the seclusion in which the General lived, +because when she went into Whitminster, she would hear sometimes a +rumor, a whispered word--"Look--that is the daughter of Sydney Vane who +was murdered a few years ago! Extraordinary case--don't you remember +it?"--and the consciousness that these words might be spoken was +unbearable to her. Hubert had touched an open wound somewhat too +roughly. + +He saw his mistake. + +"Forgive me for speaking of it," he said. "I fancied that you were +thinking of the past." + +"Oh, no, no--not of that!" cried Enid, scarcely knowing what she said. + +"Of other troubles?" Hubert queried very softly. It was natural that he +should think of what Flossy had said to him quite recently. + +"Yes--of other things." + +"Can you not tell me what they are?" he said gently, taking one of her +slight hands in his own. + +"Oh, no--not you!" + +She was thinking of him as Florence's brother, possibly even as +Florence's accomplice in a crime; but he attributed her refusal to a +very different motive. Tell him her troubles? Of course she could not do +so, poor child, when her troubles came from love of him. He was not a +coxcomb, but he believed what Flossy had said. + +"Not me? You cannot tell me?" he said, drawing her away from the cold +uncurtained windows with his hand still on hers. "And can I do nothing +to lighten your trouble, dear?" + +She looked at him doubtfully. + +"I--don't--know." + +"Enid, tell me." + +"Oh, no!" she cried. "I can't tell you--I can't tell any one--I must +bear it all alone!"--and then she burst into tears, not into noisy sobs, +but into a nearly silent passion of grief which went to the very heart +of the man who stood at her side. She drew her hand away from his and +laid it upon the mantelpiece, which she crept to and leaned against, +sobbing miserably meanwhile, as if she needed the support that solid +stone could give. + +Her slender figure, in its closely-fitting white gown, shook from head +to foot. It was as much as Hubert could do to restrain himself from +putting his arm round it, drawing it closely to him, and silencing the +sobs with kisses. But his feeling was that of a grown-up person to a +child whom he wanted to comfort and protect, not that of a man to the +woman whom he loved. He waited therefore silently, with a fixed look of +mingled pain and determination upon his face, until she had grown a +little calmer. When at last her figure ceased to vibrate with sobs, he +came closer and put his hand caressingly upon her shoulder. + +"Enid," he said, "I have asked you before if I could make you happier; +you never answered the question. Will you tell me now?" + +She raised herself from her drooping attitude, and stood with averted +face; but still she did not speak. + +"Perhaps you hardly know what I mean. I am willing--anxious--to give my +whole life to you, Enid, my child. If you can trust yourself to my +hands, I will take such care of you that you shall never know trouble or +sorrow again, if care can avert it. Give me the right to do this for +you, dear. You shall not have cause to repent your trust. Look at me, +Enid, and tell me that you trust me." + +Why that insistence on the word "trust"? Was it--strange +contradiction--because he felt himself so utterly unworthy of her +confidence? He said not a word of love. + +Enid looked round at him at last. Her gentle face was pale, her lashes +were wet with tears, but the traces of emotion were not unbecoming to +her. Even to Hubert's cold eyes, cold and critical in spite of himself, +she was lovelier than ever. + +"I want to trust you--I do trust you," she said; but there were trouble +and perplexity in her voice. "I don't know what to do. You would not let +me be deceived, Hubert? You would not let dear uncle be tricked and +cheated into thinking--thinking--by Flossy, I mean---- Oh, I can't tell +you! If you knew what I know, you would understand." + +Hubert had never been in greater danger of betraying his own secret. +Knowing of no other, his first instinctive thought was that Enid had +learnt the true story of her father's death and Flossy's share in +bringing it about; but a second thought, quickly following the first, +showed him that in that case she would never have said that she wanted +to trust him, or that he would not let her and her uncle be deceived. +No, it could not be that. But what was it? + +By a terrible effort he kept himself from visibly blenching at her +words. He stood still holding her hands, feeling himself a villain to +the very lowest depths of his soul, but looking quietly down at her, +with even a slight smile on the lips that--do what he would--had turned +pale--the ruddy firelight glancing on his face prevented this change of +color from being seen. + +"But how can I understand," he said, "when I have not the slightest +notion of what you mean?" + +"You have not?" + +"Not the least in the world." + +She crept a little closer to him. + +"You are not sheltering Flossy from punishment?" + +It was what he had been doing for the past eight years. + +"Good heavens, Enid," he cried, losing his self-possession a little for +the first time, "what on earth can you possibly mean?" + +She thought that he was indignant, and she hastened tremblingly to +appease his apparent wrath. + +"I don't mean to accuse you or her," she said; "I have said a great deal +too much. I can trust you, Hubert--oh, I am sure I can! Forgive me for +the moment's doubt." + +"If you have not accused me, you have accused my sister. I must know +what you mean." + +"Forgive me, cousin Hubert! I can't tell you--even you." + +"But, my dear Enid, if you said so much, you must say more." + +"I will never say anything again!" she said, her face quivering all over +like that of a troubled child. + +He loosed her hands and looked at her steadily for a moment; he had more +confidence in his power over her now. + +"I think you should make me understand what you mean, dear. Do you +accuse my sister of anything?" + +She looked frightened. + +"No, indeed I do not. I don't know what I am saying, Hubert. Tell me one +thing. Do you think we should ever do wrong--or what seems to be +wrong--for the sake of other people's happiness? Clergymen and good +people say we should not; but I do not know." + +"Enid, you have not been consulting that parson at Beechfield about it?" + +"Not exactly. At least"--the ingenuous face changed a little--"we talked +on that subject, because he knew that I was in trouble, but I did not +tell him anything. He said one should always tell the truth at any +cost." + +"And theoretically one should do so," said Hubert, trying to soothe her, +yet feeling himself a corrupter of her innocent candor of mind as he +went on; "but practically it would not be always wise or right. When you +marry, Enid"--he drew her towards him--"you can confess to your husband, +and he will absolve you." + +"Perhaps that is what would be best," she answered softly. + +"To no man but your husband, Enid." + +She drew a quick little sigh. + +"You can trust me?" he said, in a still lower voice. + +"Oh, yes," she said--"I am sure I can trust you! It was only for a +moment--you must not mind what I said. You will it set all right when +you know." + +He was silent, seeing that she had grasped his meaning more quickly than +he had anticipated, and had, in fact, accepted him, quite simply and +confidently, as her husband that was to be. Her child-like trust was at +that moment very bitter to him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead +as a father might have done. + +"My dear Enid," he said, "we must remember that you are very young. I +feel that I may be taking advantage of your inexperience--as if some day +you might reproach me for it." + +"I told you I did not feel young," she said gently; "but perhaps I +cannot judge. Do what you please." + +The listlessness in her voice almost angered Hubert. + +"Do you not love me then?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes--I always loved you!" said the girl. But there was no look of a +woman's love in her grave eyes. "You were always so kind to me, dear +cousin Hubert; and indeed I feel as if I could trust you absolutely. You +shall decide for me in everything." + +There was certainly relief in her tone; but Hubert had looked for +something more. + +"I have been wanting to speak to you for several days," he said, "but I +have never had the opportunity before; and I must tell you, dear, that I +spoke to the General before I spoke to you." + +"Oh," Enid's fair face flushed a little. "I thought--I did not know that +you intended--when you began to speak to me first, I mean----" + +Hubert could not help smiling. + +"I understand; you thought I spoke on a sudden impulse of affection, +longing to comfort and help you. So I did. But that is not incompatible +with previous thought and preparation, is it? Surely my care for you--my +love for you--would be worth less as a sudden growth than as a plant of +long and hardy growth?" He groaned inwardly at the subterfuge contained +in the last few words, but he felt that it was unavoidable. + +Enid looked up and gave him an answering smile. + +"Oh, yes, I see!" she said hurriedly; but there was some little +dissatisfaction in her mind, she did not quite know why. + +Even her innocent heart dimly discerned the fact that Hubert was not her +ideal lover. His wooing had scarcely been ardent in tone; and to find +that it had all been discussed, mapped out, as it were, and formally +permitted by the General, and perhaps by his wife, gave her a sudden +chill. For Flossy's interpretation of Enid's melancholy was by no means +a true one. She had dreamed a little of Hubert in a vague romantic way, +as young girls are apt to do when a new-comer strikes their fancy; but +she had not set her heart upon him at all in the way which Florence had +led her brother to believe. There was certainly danger lest she should +do so now. + +"The General says," Hubert went on more lightly, "that you cannot be +expected to know your own mind for a couple of years. What do you say to +that?" + +"I think that uncle Richard might know me better," said the girl, +smiling. She was still standing on the hearthrug, and Hubert put his arm +round her as he spoke. + +"And he will not consent even to an engagement until you are eighteen, +Enid. But he did not forbid me to speak to you and ask you whether you +cared for me, and if you would wait two years." + +"Oh, why should it be so long?" the girl cried out; and then she turned +crimson, seeing the meaning that Hubert attached to her words. "I only +mean," she said, "that I wanted to tell you everything that was in my +mind just now." + +"And can't you do it now, little darling?" + +"No, not now." + +"I must wait for that, must I? We must see if we can soften the +General's obdurate heart, my dear. But you are not unhappy now?" + +To his surprise, the shadow rose again in her beautiful eyes, the lips +fell into their old mournful lines. + +"I don't know," she said sadly. "I ought not to be; but after all +perhaps this does not make things any better. Oh, I wish I could forget +what I know--what I have heard!" + +"It is about Flossy?" said Hubert, in a whisper. + +She hid her face, upon his shoulder without a word. + +"My poor child, I am half inclined to think that I can guess. I know +that Flossy's life has not been all that it should have been. No, don't +tell me--I will not ask you again unless you wish to confide in me." + +"You said you did not know." + +"I do not know--exactly; but I suspect; and, my dear Enid, we can do +nothing. Make your mind easy on that point. Our highest duty now is to +hold our tongues." + +He thought, naturally enough, that she had heard of Florence's secret +interviews with Sydney Vane--so much, he was certain, even the +village-people knew--that in her visits to the cottages she had heard +some story of this kind, and had been distressed--that was all. + +"Do you really think so?" said Enid, clinging to him. She was only too +thankful to get rid of the responsibility of judging for herself. "You +do not think that uncle Richard ought to know?" + +"My dear girl, what an idea! Certainly not! Do you want to break the old +man's heart?" + +"He is very fond of little Dick," murmured Enid, rather to herself than +to him. + +He did not lay hold of the clue that her words might have given him if +he had attended to them more closely. He went on encouragingly-- + +"And of his wife too. No, dear, we cannot wreck his happiness by +scruples of that kind. We must endure our knowledge--or our +suspicions--in silence. Besides, what you have heard may not be true." + +"Do you think so, Hubert?" she said wistfully. + +"It is better surely to take a charitable view, is it not?" + +"Oh, thank you! That is just what I wanted!" she said, a new brightness +stealing into her eyes and cheeks. "Yes, I am sure that I must have been +hard and uncharitable. I will try to think better things. And, oh, +Hubert, you have really made me happy now!" + +"That is what I wanted," said Hubert, with a sigh, as for the first time +he pressed his lips to hers. "Your happiness, Enid, is all that I wish +to secure." + +He was in earnest; and it did not seem hard to him that in trying to +secure her happiness he had perhaps lost his own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +"A Grand Morning Concert will be given on Thursday, June 25th, at +Ebury's Rooms, by the pupils of Madame della Scala. By kind permission +of Mr. Mapleson, the following _artistes_ will appear." Then followed a +list of well known operatic vocalists, also Miss This, That, and the +other--"and Miss Cynthia West." The last half-dozen names were not as +yet famous. + +The above intimation, together with much detail concerning time, place, +and performers, was printed on a very large gilt-edged card; and two +such cards, enclosed in a thick square envelope, lay upon Hubert Lepel's +breakfast-table some months after the New Year's holiday which he had +spent at Beechfield Hall. + +He looked at them with an amused, interested smile, and read the words +more than once--then, with equal interest, perused a programme of the +concert, which had also been enclosed. + +"So it is to-day, is it?" he said to himself, as he finished his cup of +coffee. "She is late in sending me a ticket; I shall scarcely be able to +nail any of the critics for her now. I would have got Gurney to write +her a notice if I had known earlier. Probably that is the very reason +why she did not let me know--independent young woman that she is! I'll +go and see what I can do for her even at the eleventh hour. She shall +have a good big bouquet for her _debut_, at any rate!" + +He sallied forth, making his way to his club, where he found occasion to +remark to more than one of his friends that Madame della Scala's concert +would be worth going to, and that a young lady who had formerly been +known in the theatrical world--Miss Cynthia West--would make her _debut_ +as a public singer that afternoon. Meeting Marcus Gurney, the well-known +musical critic of an influential paper, soon afterwards, he pressed upon +him his spare ticket for the concert, and gave him to understand that it +would be a really good-natured thing if he could turn in at Ebury's +Rooms between three and four, and write something for the _Scourge_ that +would not injure that very promising _debutante_, Miss West. Marcus +Gurney laughed and consented, and Hubert went off well pleased; he had +at least stopped the mouth of the bitterest critic in London, he +reflected--for, though Gurney was personally one of the most amiable of +men, he could be very virulent in print. Then he went off to Covent +Garden, and selected two of the loveliest bouquets he could find--one, +of course, for Cynthia, and one for her teacher, Madame della Scala. For +Hubert was wise in his generation. + +He had seen very little of Cynthia West during the last few months, and +had not heard her sing at all. Shortly after his second interview with +her, he had sent her to Italy for the winter, so that she might have a +course of lessons from the most celebrated teacher in Milan. He was +gratified to hear that there had been at least nothing to unlearn. Old +Lalli had done his work very thoroughly; he had trained her voice as +only a skilled musician could have done; and, on hearing who had been +her teacher, the great Italian _maestro_ had thrown up his hands and +asked her why she came to him. + +"You will have no need of me," he had said to her. "Lalli--did you not +know?--he was once our _primo tenore_ in opera! He would have been +great--ah, great--if he had not lost his voice in an expedition to your +terrible England! So he stayed there and played the violon, did he? And +he taught you to sing with your mouth round and close like that--my own +method! La, la, la, la! We shall see you at La Scala before we have +done!" + +But, when the spring came, and he himself was about to fulfil an +engagement in Berlin, he handed Cynthia over to the care of Madame della +Scala, who was then going to England, and advised her to sing in +public--even to take a professional engagement--if she had the chance, +and, if not, to spend another winter under his tuition in Milan. So +Cynthia came back to London in May, and lived with Madame della Scala, +and was heard by nobody until the day of the annual semi-private +concert, which Madame della Scala loved to give for the benefit of +herself and her best pupils. + +Hubert reached the rooms at three precisely. He might easily have sent +in his name and obtained a little chat with Cynthia beforehand in the +artists' room; but he did not care to do that. He wanted to see her +first; he was curious to know whether her new experiences had taken +effect upon her, and how she would bear herself before her judges. He +had seen her once only since her return from Italy, and then but for a +few minutes in the society of other people. He could not tell whether +she was changed or not; and he was curious to know. + +She had written to him from Italy several times--letters like herself, +vivacious, sparkling, full of spirit and humor. He knew her very well +from these letters, and he was inclined to wish that he knew her better. +He would see how she looked before she knew that he was present; it +would be amusing to note whether she found him out or not. + +Thus he argued to himself; and then, with perverse want of logic, after +saying that he did not wish her to know that he was there, he sent his +bouquets to the green-room for teacher and pupil alike, and compromised +matters by attaching his card to Madame's bouquet only, and not to that +which he sent to Cynthia West--a feeble compromise certainly, and +entirely ineffectual. + +He seated himself on a green-colored bench on the right-hand side of the +room, and looked around him at the audience. It consisted largely of +mothers and other relatives of the pupils, some of whom came from the +most aristocratic houses in England--largely also of critics, and of +musical persons with flowing hair and note-books. Hubert knew Madame +della Scala's reputation; it was here that the _impresario_ on the watch +for new talent always came--it was here that the career of more than one +famous English singer had been successfully begun. It was of some +importance therefore that Cynthia should sing her best and do her utmost +to impress her audience. + +Having looked about him and consulted his programme, Hubert glanced at +the platform, and was aware that a little comedy was being enacted for +the benefit of all persons present. + +Madame della Scala was first led forward by a bevy of admiring pupils, +Cynthia not being one, and made her bow to the audience with an air of +gracious humility that was very effective indeed. She was a dark, thin +little woman who had once been handsome, and was still striking in +appearance. She had been an operatic singer in days gone by, and had +taken up the profession of a teacher only when her vocal powers began to +fail. In demi-toilette, with ribbons and medals adorning her square-cut +bodice, long gloves on her hands, and a fan between her fingers, the +little lady curtseyed, smiled, gesticulated, in a charmingly foreign +way, which procured for her the warmest plaudits of the audience. One +felt that, though she herself was not about to perform in person, she +considered herself responsible for the efforts of her pupils, and made +herself fascinating on their behalf. + +A large screen was placed on one side of the platform, and a grand piano +nearly filled the other side, leaving a central space for the +performers. At first Hubert had wondered why the screen was there. Now +he saw its use. Madame della Scala seated herself in a chair behind it, +with her face to the singers--evidently under the delusion that her +figure was completely hidden from the audience, and that she could, +unseen, direct, stimulate, or reprove the singers by movement of head, +hands, handkerchief, and fan. The manoeuvre would have been successful +enough, but for the fact that the back of the platform was entirely +filled with a sheet of looking-glass, and that in this mirror her +gestures and facial contortions were all distinctly visible to the +greater number of the listeners. Hubert found great satisfaction in +watching the different expressions of her countenance; he told himself +that Madame's face was the most interesting part of the performance. How +sweetly she smiled at her favorite pupils from the shadow of the screen! +How she nodded her head and beat time with her fingers to the songs they +sang! How, in moments of uncontrollable excitement, she waved her hands +and swayed her body and gesticulated with her fan! It was a comedy in +dumb show. And, as each girl-singer, after performing her part and +curtseying to the audience, passed her teacher on the way to the +artists' room, Madame seized her impulsively by both hands, and drew her +down to impress a kiss of satisfaction on the performer's forehead. The +woman's old charm as an actress, the Southern grace and excitability and +warmth, were never more evident than when reflected in Madame's +movements behind the screen that afternoon, and visible to the +audience--did she know it after all?--only in a looking-glass. + +The humor of the situation impressed Hubert, and made him glad that he +had come. The whole scene had something foreign, something half +theatrical about it. An English teacher of music would have effaced +herself--would have shaken with nervousness and scowled at her pupils. +Madame had no idea of effacing herself at all. She was benignity, +composure, affability incarnate. The girls were all her "dear angels," +who were helping to make her concert a success. When, at a preconcerted +signal in the middle of the afternoon, she was led forward by one of her +most distinguished pupils, and presented by a group of adoring girls +with a great basket of flowers, her whole face beamed with satisfaction, +her medals and orders and brooches twinkled responsively as she +curtseyed, waved her fan, spread out her lace and silken draperies, and +slipped gracefully back into the screen's obscurity once more. Only one +little _contretemps_ occurred to mar the harmony of the scene. Just as +Madame had returned to her seat, the screen, displaced a little by her +movement, fell over, dragging down flower-pots and ferns, and almost +upsetting Madame herself. The bevy of girls rushed to pick her up, +gentlemen and attendants came to the rescue, and in a few moments Madame +was reinstated, a little shaken and flustered, but amiable as ever, the +screen was replaced more securely, and the concert proceeded with +decorum. + +But where all this time was Cynthia? She had not joined the cluster of +girls who presented the flowers to Madame, or run to pick her up when +the screen fell down. Madame was reserving Cynthia for a great effect. +She did not appear until nearly the end of the first part of the +concert, when she came on to sing an Italian aria. + +"More beautiful than ever!" was Hubert's first reflection. "More +beautiful than I remembered her! Is she nervous? No, I think not. Her +face will take the town if her voice does not." And then he settled +himself to listen. He was far more nervous than Cynthia herself or than +Madame della Scala, who was keeping time to the music with her fan +behind the screen. + +Cynthia's beauty, of an unusually striking order, was heightened by an +excitement which lent new color to her cheeks, new fire to her eyes. She +was dressed in very pale yellow--white had been rejected as not so +becoming to her dark skin as a more decided tint--and she wore a cluster +of scarlet flowers on her left shoulder. She looked like some brilliant +tropical bird or butterfly--a thing of light and color, to whom sunlight +was as essential as food. Hubert felt vain of his _protegee_ as he heard +the little murmur of applause that greeted her appearance. + +But the applause that followed her singing swamped every other +manifestation of approval. Cynthia surpassed herself. Her voice and her +method of singing were infinitely improved; the sweet high notes were +sweeter than ever, and were full of an exquisite thrill of feeling which +struck Hubert as something new in her musical development. There was no +doubt about her success. No other singer had roused the audience to such +a pitch of excitement and admiration. + +Hubert glanced at Madame della Scala. She was sitting with her hands +folded, a placid smile of achievement upon her lips; she had produced +all the impression that she wished to make, and for once was completely +satisfied. Hubert read it in her look. + +Cynthia was curtseying to the audience, when, for the first time, Hubert +caught her eye--or rather it was for the first time only that she +allowed him to see that she observed him; as a matter of fact, she had +been conscious of his presence ever since she entered the concert-room. +She flashed a quick smile at him, bowed openly in his direction, and--as +if by accident--touched the belt of her dress. He was quick enough to +see what she meant; some flowers from his bouquet were fastened at her +waist. He half rose from his seat, involuntarily, and almost as if he +wanted to join her on the platform, then sat down again, vexed at his +own movement, and blushing like a schoolboy. He did not know what had +come to him, he told himself; for a moment he had been quite embarrassed +and overwhelmed by this girl's bright glance and smile. She was +certainly very handsome; and it was embarrassing--yes, it was decidedly +a little embarrassing--to be recognised by her so publicly at the very +moment of her first success. + +"Know her?" said a voice at his shoulder--it was the voice of a critic. +"Why, she's first-rate! Isn't she the girl that used to play small parts +at the Frivolity? Who discovered that she had a voice?" + +"Old Lalli, I believe--first-violin in the orchestra," said Hubert. + +"Ah! Did he teach her, then? How did she get to della Scala? That +woman's charges are enormous--as big as Lamperti's!" + +"Couldn't say, I'm sure," returned Hubert, with perfect coolness. + +"Well, della Scala made a big hit this time, at any rate. Old Mitcham's +prowling about--from Covent Garden, do you see him? That girl will have +an engagement before the day's out--mark my words! There hasn't been +such a brilliant success for the last ten years." + +And then the second part of the concert began, and Hubert was left in +peace. + +Cynthia's second song was a greater success even than the first. There +could be no doubt that she would attain a great height in her profession +if she wished to do so; she had a splendid organ, she had been well +taught, and she was remarkably handsome. Her stage-training prevented +nervousness; and that she had dramatic talent was evidenced by her +singing of the two airs put down for her in the programme. But she took +everybody by surprise when she was _encored_. Instead of repeating her +last aria, she said a word in the accompanist's ear, and launched at +once into the song of Schubert's which she had sung in Hubert's rooms. +It was a complete change from the Italian music that constituted the +staple of Madame della Scala's concerts; but it revealed new capacities +of passion in the singer's voice, and was not unwelcome, even to Madame +herself, as showing the girl's talent and versatility. As she passed off +the platform, Madame caught the girl in her arms and kissed her +enthusiastically. The pupil's success was the teacher's success--and +Madame was delighted accordingly. + +Hubert was leaving the room at the conclusion of the concert, when an +attendant accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir! Mr. Lepel, sir?" + +"Yes; what is it?" + +"Miss West told me to give you this, sir;" and he put a twisted slip of +paper into Hubert's hand. + +Hubert turned aside and opened the note. He could have smiled at its +abruptness--so like what he already knew of Cynthia West. + +"Why didn't you come round in the interval and let me thank you? If I +have been successful, it is all owing to you. Please come to see us this +evening if you can; I want very much to consult you. You know my +address. Madame won't let me stay now. "C. W." + +"Impetuous little creature!" Hubert smiled to himself--although Cynthia +was not little. + +He thrust the note into his pocket, and went home to dine and dress. He +knew Madame della Scala's ways. This old lady, with whom Cynthia was now +staying, loved to hold a little reception on the evening of the day of +her yearly concert, and she would be delighted to see Mr. Lepel, +although she had not sent him any formal invitation. For Cynthia's sake +he made up his mind to go. + +"For Cynthia's sake." How lightly he said the words! In after-days no +words were fraught with deeper and sadder suggestion for him; none bowed +him down more heavily with a sense of obligation and shame and +passionate remorse than these--"For Cynthia's sake." + +He went that night to Madame della Scala's house and sat for a full +hour, in a little conservatory lighted with Chinese lanterns, alone with +Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"I don't know how it is," grumbled the General, "but Enid looks scarcely +any better than she did before this precious engagement of hers. You +made me think that she would be perfectly happy if she had her own way; +but I must say, Flossy, that I see no improvement." + +Flossy, lying on a sofa and holding a fan over her eyes, as though to +shut out the sight of her husband's bowed shoulders and venerable white +head, answered languidly-- + +"You forget that you did only half of what you were expected to do. You +would not consent to a definite engagement until she should be eighteen +years old; she is eighteen now, and yet you are holding back. Suspense +of such a sort is very trying to a girl." + +The General, who had been standing beside her, sat down in a large +arm-chair and looked very vexed. + +"I don't care," he said obstinately--"I'm not going to have my little +girl disposed of in such a hurry! She shall not be engaged to anybody +just yet; and until she is twenty or twenty-one she sha'nt be married. +Why, she's had no girlhood at all! She's only just out of the schoolroom +now. Eighteen is nothing!" + +"Waiting and uncertainty are bad for a girl's spirits," said Mrs. Vane. +"You can do as you please, of course, about her engagement; but you must +not expect her to look delighted over the delay." + +The General put his hands on his knees and leaned forward mysteriously. + +"Flossy," he said, "I don't wish to make you anxious, dear; but do you +think Hubert really cares for her?" + +Flossy lowered her fan; there was a touch of angry color in her face. + +"What are you going to say next, General? Why should Hubert have asked +Enid to marry him if he were not in love with her? He had, no doubt, +plenty of opportunities of asking other people." + +"Yes--yes; but Enid is very sweet and very lovely, my dear. You don't +often see a more beautiful girl. I should not like her to marry a man +who was not attached to her." + +Flossy controlled her anger, and spoke in a careless tone. + +"What makes you take such fancies into your head, dear?" + +"Well--more than one thing. To begin with, I found Enid wandering up and +down the conservatory just now, looking as pale as a ghost, with tears +in her eyes. I railed her a little, and asked her to tell me what was +the matter; but she would not say. And then I asked if it had anything +to do with Hubert, and whether she had heard from him lately; and, do +you know, Flossy, she has had no letter from him for a fortnight! Now, +in my day, although postage was dearer than it is now, we wouldn't have +waited a fortnight before writing to the woman that we loved." + +"Hubert is a very busy man; he has not time for the writing of +love-letters," said Flossy slightly. + +"He ought not to be too busy to make her happy." + +"You forget too," said Mrs. Vane, "that Hubert has no private fortune. +He is working harder than ever just now--toiling with all his might and +main to gain a competency--not for his own, but for Enid's sake. Poor +boy, he is often harassed on all sides!" She drew a little sigh as if +she were sorrowing for him. + +"I'm sure Enid does not harass him," said the General, getting up and +pacing about the room in a hurry; "she is sweetness itself! And, as to +money, why did he propose to her if he hadn't enough to keep her on? Of +course Enid will have a nice little fortune--he needn't doubt that; but +I shall tie it up pretty tightly when she marries, and settle it all +upon herself. You may tell him that from me if you like, with my +compliments!" The General was excited--he was hot and breathing hard. +"He must have an income to put against--that's all; he's not going to +live on his wife's fortune." + +"Poor Hubert--I don't suppose he ever thought of such a thing!" said +Flossy, affecting to laugh at her husband's vehemence, but weighing +every word she uttered with scrupulous care. "Indeed, if he had known +that she would have money, I don't suppose he would even have asked her +to marry him. He believed her to be all but penniless." + +"And what right had he to believe that?" shouted the General, looking +more apoplectic than ever. + +At which Flossy softly sighed, and said, "My nerves, dear!" closed her +eyes, and held a vinaigrette to her nose. + +The General was quieted at once. + +"I beg your pardon, my dear--I forgot that I must not talk so loudly in +your room," he said apologetically. "But my feelings get the better of +me when I think of my poor little Enid looking so white and mournful. +And so Hubert's working hard for her, is he? Poor lad! Of course I shall +not forget him either in my will--you can tell him so if you like--and +Enid's future is assured; but he must not neglect her--mustn't let her +shed tears and make those pretty blue eyes of hers dim, you know--you +must tell him that." + +"The General grows more and more foolish every day," said Flossy to +herself, with disgust--"a garrulous old dotard!" But she spoke very +sweetly. + +"I will talk to him if you like, dear; but I do not think that he means +to hurt or neglect poor Enid. He is coming down to-morrow to spend +Easter with us; that will please her, will it not? I have been keeping +it a secret from her; I wanted to give her a surprise. It will bring the +color back to her pale cheeks--will it not, you kind, sympathetic old +dear!" + +Flossy's white hand was laid caressingly on the General's arm. The old +soldier rose to the bait. He raised it at once to his mouth, and kissed +it as devoutly as ever he had saluted the hand of his Queen. + +"My dear," he said, "you are always right; you are a wonderful woman--so +clever, so beautiful, so good!" Did she not shiver as she heard the +words? "I will leave it in your hands--you know how to manage every +one!" + +"Dear Richard," said Flossy, with a faint smile, "all that I do is for +your sake." + +And with these words she dismissed him radiantly happy. + +Left to her own meditations, the expression of her face changed at once; +it grew stern, hard, and cold; there was an unyielding look about the +lines of her features which reminded one of the fixity of a mask or a +marble statue. She lay perfectly motionless for a time, her eyes fixed +on the wall before her; then she put out her hand and touched a bell at +her side. + +Almost immediately the door opened to admit her maid--a thin, upright +woman with dark eyes, and curly dark hair, disposed so as to hide the +tell-tale wrinkles on her brow and the crow's-feet at the corners of her +eyes. She wore pink bows and a smart little cap and apron of youthful +style; but it would have been evident to the eye of a keen observer that +she was no longer young. She closed the door behind her and came to her +mistress' side. + +Florence paused for a minute or two, then spoke in a voice of so harsh +and metallic a quality that her husband would scarcely have recognised +it as hers. + +"You have been neglecting your duty. You have not made any report to me +for nearly a week." + +"You have not asked me for one, ma'am." + +"I do not expect to have to ask you. You are to come to me whenever +there is anything to say." + +The woman stood silent; but there was a protest in her very bearing, in +the pose of her hands, the expression of her mouth and eyebrows. Flossy +looked at her once, then turned her head away and said-- + +"Go on." + +"There is nothing of importance to tell you, ma'am." + +"How do you know what is important and what is not? For instance, Miss +Enid was found by the General crying in the conservatory this morning. I +want to know why she cried." + +The maid--whose name was Parker--sniffed significantly as she replied-- + +"It's not easy to tell why young ladies cry, ma'am. The wind's in the +east--perhaps that has something to do with it." + +"Oh, very well!" said Mrs. Vane coldly. "If the wind is in the east, and +that is all, Parker, you had better find some position in the world in +which your talents will be of more use to you than they are to me. I +will give you a month's pay instead of the usual notice, and you can +leave Beechfield to-night." + +The maid's face turned a little pale. + +"I'm sure I beg pardon, ma'am," she said rather hurriedly; "I didn't +mean that I had nothing to say. I--I've served you as well as I could, +ma'am, ever since I came." There was something not unlike a tear in her +beady black eyes. + +"Have you?" said her mistress indifferently. "Then let me hear what you +have been doing during the last few days. If your notes are not worth +hearing"--she made a long pause, which Parker felt to be ominous, and +then continued calmly--"there is a train to London to-night, and no +doubt your mother will be glad to see you, character or no character." + +"Oh, ma'am, you wouldn't go for to be so cruel, would you?" cried Parker +the unwise, evidently on the verge of a flood of tears. "Without a +character, ma'am, I'm sure I couldn't get a good place; and you know my +mother has only what I earn to live upon. You wouldn't turn me off at a +moment's notice for----" + +"You are wasting a great deal of time," said Flossy coldly. "Say what +you have to say, and I will be the judge as to whether you have or have +not obeyed my orders. Where are your notes?" + +Smothering a sob, Parker drew from her pocket a little black book, from +which she proceeded to read aloud. But her voice was so thick, her +articulation so indistinct by reason of her half-suppressed emotion, +that presently, with an exclamation of impatience, Mrs. Vane turned and +took the book straight out of her hands. + +"You read abominably, Parker?" she said. "Where is it? Let me see. +'Sunday'--oh, yes, I know all about Sunday!--'Church, Sunday-school, +church'--as usual. What's this? 'Mr. Evandale walked home with Miss E. +from afternoon school.' I never heard of that! Where were you?" + +"Walking behind them, ma'am." + +"Could you hear anything? What do your notes say? H'm!" They walked very +slow and spoke soft--could not hear a word. At the Park gates Mr. E. +took her hand and held it while he talked. Miss E. seemed to be crying. +The last thing he said was, "You know you may always trust me." Then he +went down the road again, and Miss E. came home. Monday.--Miss E. very +pale and down-like. Indoors all morning teaching Master D. Walked up to +the village with him after his dinner; went to the schools; saw Mr. E. +and walked along the lane with him. Mr. E. seemed more cheerful, and +made her laugh several times. The rest of the day Miss E. spent indoors. +Tuesday.--Miss E. teaching Master Dick till twelve. Riding with the +master till two. Lunch and needlework till four. Mr. Evandale came to +call. "Why was I never told that Mr. Evandale came to call?" said +Flossy, starting up a little, and fixing her eyes, bright with a +wrathful red gleam in their brown depths, upon the shrinking maid. + +"I don't know, ma'am. I thought that you had been told." + +Flossy sank back amongst her cushions, biting her lip; but she resumed +her reading without further comment. + +"'Stayed an hour, part of the time with Miss E. alone, then with the +master. Little Master Dick in and out most of the time. Nothing special, +as far as I could tell. Wednesday.--Miss E. walked with Master Dick to +the village after lessons. Went into Miss Meldreth's shop to buy sweets, +but did not stay more than a few minutes. Passed the Rectory gate; Mr. +E. came running after them with a book. I was near enough to see Miss E. +color up beautiful at the sight of him. They did not talk much together. +In the afternoon Miss E. rode over to Whitminster with the General. +After tea---- ' Yes, I see," said Mrs. Vane, suddenly stopping +short--"there is nothing more of any importance." + +She lay silent for a time, with her finger between the pages of the +note-book. Parker waited, trembling, not daring to speak until she was +spoken to. + +"Take your book," said Mrs. Vane at last, "and be careful. No, you need, +not go into ecstasies"--seeing from Parker's clasped hands that she was +about to utter a word of gratitude. "I shall keep you no longer than you +are useful to me--do you understand? Go on following Miss Vane; I want +to know whom she sees, where she goes, what she does--if possible, what +she talks about. Does she get letters--letters, I mean beside those that +come in the post-bag?" + +"I don't know, ma'am." + +"Make it your business to know, then. You can go;" and Flossy turned +away her face, so as not to see Parker's rather blundering exit. + +"The woman is a fool," she said to herself contemptuously, when Parker +had gone; "but I think she is--so far--a faithful fool. These women who +have made a muddle of their lives are admirable tools; they are always +so afraid of being found out;" and Flossy smiled cynically, although at +the same moment she was conscious that she shared the peculiarity of the +woman of whom she spoke--she also was afraid of being found out. + +She had come across Parker before her marriage, when she was in +Scotland. The woman had then been detected in theft and in an intrigue +with one of the grooms, and had been ignominiously dismissed from +service; but Flossy had chosen to seek her out and befriend her--not +from any charitable motive, but because she saw in the discarded maid a +person whom it might be useful to have at beck and call. Parker's +bedridden mother was dependent upon her; and her one fear in life was +that this mother should get to know her true story and be deprived of +support. Upon this fear Mrs. Vane traded very skilfully; and, having +installed Parker in the place of lady's-maid to herself and her +husband's niece, she obtained accurate information concerning Enid's +movements and actions, supplied from a source which Enid never even +suspected. + +Such knowledge was generally very useful to Flossy, but at present she +was puzzled by certain items of news brought to her by Parker. "What +does this constant meeting with Mr. Evandale mean?" she asked herself. +Then her thoughts went back to the day of Mrs. Meldreth's death--a day +which she never remembered without a shudder. She knew very well that +the poor old woman had bitterly repented of her share in a deed to which +her daughter Sabina and Mrs. Vane had urged her; it had been as much as +Mrs. Vane and Sabina, by their united efforts, could do to make her hold +her tongue. No fear of the General's vengeance, of Sabina's disgrace, of +punishment of any kind, would have ensured her silence very much longer. +The old woman had said again and again that she could not bear--in her +own words--"to see Miss Enid kep' out of her own." She used to come to +Flossy's boudoir and sit there, crying and entreating that she might be +allowed to tell the General the truth. She did not seem to care when she +was reminded that she herself would probably be punished, and that +Sabina and Mrs. Vane had nothing but ruin before them if the truth were +known. She had the fear of death on her soul--the fear that her sin +would bring her eternal misery. + +"You are a wickedly selfish woman!" Flossy once said to her, with as +near an approach to passion as her temperament would allow. "You think +of nothing but your own salvation. Our ruin, body and soul, does not +matter to you." + +And indeed this was true. The terrors of the law had gotten hold of Mrs. +Meldreth's conscience. The avenging sword, carried by a religion in +which she believed, had pierced her heart. She would have given +everything she had in the world to be able to follow the advice given in +her Prayer-book, to go to a "discreet and learned minister of God's +Word"--Mr. Evandale, for instance--and quiet her conscience by opening +her grief to him. But both Sabina and Mrs. Vane were prepared to go to +almost any length before they would give her the chance of doing this. + +Mrs. Vane was of course the leading spirit of the three. Where Sabina +only raved and stormed, Mrs. Vane mocked and persuaded. She argued, +threatened, coaxed, bribed, in turns; she gave Mrs. Meldreth as much +money as she could spare, and promised more for the future; but the poor +woman--at first open to persuasion--grew more and more difficult to +restrain, and became at last almost imbecile from the pressure of her +secret upon her mind. Flossy had begun seriously to consider the +expediency of inducing Sabina to consign her mother to a lunatic asylum, +or even to employ violent means for the shortening of her days on +earth--there was nothing at which her soul would have revolted if her +own prosperity could have been secured by it; but Mrs. Meldreth's +natural illness and death removed all necessity for extreme measures. + +Nothing indeed would have been more fortunate for Flossy and her +accomplice than Mrs. Meldreth's death, had it not been for the +circumstance that the dying woman had seen both Enid Vane and Mr. +Evandale during her last moments. Flossy wondered angrily why Sabina had +been so foolish as to admit them. She had heard nothing from Enid, who +had kept her room for a couple of days after her return from Mrs. +Meldreth's death-bed; but she was certain that something was now known +to the girl which had not been known before. Flossy had tried to +question her, to reprove her even for going into the houses of the sick +poor; but there had been a look in the girl's eyes, a frozen defiance +and horror in her face, which made Mrs. Vane shrink back aghast. Though +silent and not very demonstrative in manner, Enid had hitherto never +shown any dislike to Flossy, and had been as scrupulously attentive to +her wishes as if she were still a child; but these days of passive +obedience were past. Enid now quietly did what she chose. She seldom +spoke to Florence at all; and on several occasions she had maintained +her own purpose and choice with a calmness and steadfastness which had +almost terrified Mrs. Vane. Who would have thought that Enid had a +character? The girl had emancipated herself from all control, without +words, without open rebellion; she had looked Flossy straight in the +face once or twice, and Flossy had been compelled to yield. + +Yes, Enid knew something--she was sure of that; how much she could not +tell. She had never questioned Sabina Meldreth in person about the scene +at her mother's death-bed--on principle, Flossy spared herself all +painful and exciting interviews; but she had had a few lines from +Sabina--sent to Beechfield Hall on the day of her mother's funeral. + +"Miss Vane knows something--I don't know how much," Sabina had written. +"The parson wanted to know, but couldn't get to hear. Maybe Miss Vane +has told him. If she has, the parish won't hold you nor me." + +"Abominably brusque and rude!" Flossy said to herself, as she drew the +scrap of paper from its hiding-place. "But one cannot mould clay without +soiling one's fingers, I suppose. It is months since Mrs. Meldreth died; +and evidently Enid knows less than I supposed, or has made up her mind +to keep the secret. But what do these meetings with Mr. Evandale mean? +Is she confiding her troubles to him then? The little fool! I must see +Sabina Meldreth, and Hubert too. What a good thing I had written to him +to come--though not for the sake of pleasing Miss Enid, as the General +fondly supposes! I must send for Sabina." + +But the wish seemed to have brought about its own fulfilment. At that +very moment Parker knocked at her mistress' door. + +"Will you see Miss Meldreth, ma'am? She says she would like a few words +with you, if you can see her. She's down-stairs." + +"Bring Sabina Meldreth to me," said Mrs. Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Flossy's first instinctive desire was to rise from her sofa and receive +Sabina Meldreth standing--not at all by way of politeness, but as an +intimation that the interview was not intended to be a long one. On +second thoughts, she lay still. A show of languor and indifference was +more likely to produce an impression on Sabina than excitement. Mrs. +Vane closed her heavy white eyelids, and did not raise them until the +fair-haired woman in black, whom Hubert had noticed with the singers on +New Year's Eve, was standing beside her couch. + +"I thought you was asleep," said Miss Meldreth, with a slightly insolent +air. "Some people can sleep through anything." + +"All the better for them," answered Mrs. Vane dryly. "Why have you +come?" She was not going to admit that she had been longing to see her +visitor. + +"I've come for the usual thing," said Sabina doggedly--"I want some +money." + +"You had some last month." + +"Yes, and had to write three times for it--and me bothered about my +rent. You're not carrying on business on fair terms, Mrs. Vane. I want +to have a clear understanding. Mother managed all the money matters +before; but she's gone now, and I should like something definite." + +"What do you mean by 'definite'?" + +"Either money down or regular quarterly payments, ma'am. You owe me that +when you think of all I've done for you." + +"Have I done nothing for you then," said Flossy, with a red gleam in her +brown eyes, "in saving you from disgrace, ridding you of a permanent +burden, pensioning your mother till her death, and giving you money +whenever you have asked for it? Is that nothing at all, Sabina +Meldreth?" + +"It's something, of course," said Sabina stolidly; "but it ain't enough. +I want fifty pounds a quarter, paid regular. If you give me that, I'm +thinking of going back to Whitminster, where there won't be so many +people poking and prying about and asking questions." + +Going back to Whitminster! That would be worth paying for indeed! But +Flossy showed no sign of gratification. + +"What people have been asking questions?" + +"The parson, for one." + +"And who else?" + +"Well," said Sabina, rather reluctantly, "I won't say that there's any +one else. But the parson's been at me more than once, and he keeps his +eye upon me and preaches at me in church--and I won't stand it!" + +"Why do you go to church?" said Mrs. Vane with a faint sneer. + +"Because, if I don't, people would say I wasn't respectable," snapped +Miss Meldreth; "and it's no good flying in their faces that way." + +"Oh! Then you wish to be thought respectable?" + +"Yes, I do; and, what's more, so do you, Mrs. Vane, in your own way. +You're too high and mighty, and pretend to be too ill to have to go to +church; but, if you was me, and heard what folks say of them that stop +away, you'd go yourself." + +"Possibly," said Flossy; "we are in different circumstances. Now tell +me--why has Mr. Evandale questioned you?" + +"Because of what he heard when mother lay dying, of course. I wrote and +warned you at the time." + +"You should have said more then. You should have come and told me the +whole story. Tell it me now." + +It was a proof of Flossy's curious power over certain natures that +Sabina Meldreth, wild and undisciplined as she was, seldom thought of +resisting her will when in her very presence. She sat down on a chair +that Mrs. Vane pointed out to her, and recounted, in rapid and not +ill-chosen words, what had passed in her mother's room in the presence +of the Rector and of Enid Vane. Flossy listened silently, tapping her +lips from time to time with her fan. + +When the story was ended, she turned on her visitor with a terrible +flash of her usually sleepy eyes. + +"You fool," she said; without however raising her voice--"you fool! You +have known this all these months, and have never made your way to me to +tell it! How was I to know that the matter was so important? How was I +to suspect? I guessed something, of course; but not this! Why, Sabina +Meldreth, we are at the mercy of that child's discretion! She has us in +her hands--she can crush us when she pleases! Heavens and earth--and to +think that I did not know!" + +"You might have known," said Sabina sullenly. "I've been to the house +more than once. I've written and said that I wanted to see you. I don't +think it's me that's been the fool." But the last sentence was uttered +almost in a whisper. + +"No, I have been careless--I have been to blame!" said Flossy, a +feverish spot of color showing itself in her white cheeks. "So she +knows--she knows! That is why she looks at me so strangely; that is why +she avoids me and will hardly speak to me. I understand her now." + +"Maybe," said Sabina, "she thought mother was raving, or didn't +understand her aright." + +"No, no; she understood--she believes it. But why has she kept silence? +She hates me, and she might have ruined me--she might have secured +Beechfield for herself by this time! What a little idiot she must be!" + +Mrs. Vane was thinking aloud rather than addressing Sabina; but that +young woman generally had an answer ready, and was not disposed to be +ignored. + +"Miss Vane's fond of her uncle," she said drily, "and did not want +perhaps to vex him. Besides"--her voice dropped suddenly--"they tell me +she's fond of the child." + +Flossy did not seem to hear; she was revolving other matters in her +mind. + +"Do you think," she said presently; "that Miss Enid has told the Rector? +She has seen a good deal of him lately." + +"No, I don't; I should have heard of it before now if she had," replied +Sabina bluntly. "He don't mince matters; and he's got it into his head +that I ought to be reformed, and that I've something on my mind. That's +why I want to get to Whitminster." + +"Go farther away than Whitminster," said Mrs. Vane suddenly; "go to +London, and I'll give you the money you ask--two hundred pounds a year." + +"Will you? Well, I'm not ill-disposed to go to London. One could live +there very comfortable, I dare say, on two hundred a year. But how am I +to know if you'll pay it? Give me a bit of writing----" + +"Not a word--not a line! You need not be afraid. I'll keep my promise if +I have to sell my jewels to do it; and the General does not ask me what +I do with my allowance. By-and-by, Sabina, I may have an income of my +own; and then--then it shall be better for you as well as for me." + +Her tone and manner had grown silky and caressing. Miss Meldreth looked +hard at her, as if suspecting that this sugary sweetness covered some +ill design; but she read nothing but thoughtful serenity in Mrs. Vane's +fair face. + +"When the General's dead, you mean? Well, that's as it may be. But I +can't wait for that, you know, ma'am. He's strong and well, and may live +for twenty years to come. I want my affairs settled now." + +"Very well. Go to London, send me your address, and you shall have the +fifty pounds as soon as you are settled there." + +"That won't quite do, Mrs. Vane. I want something down for travelling +and moving expenses. I have some bills to settle before I can leave the +village." + +"You must be terribly extravagant!" said Flossy bitterly. "I gave you +thirty pounds at Christmas. Will ten pounds do?" + +"Twenty would be better." + +"I haven't twenty. I do not know where to get them. You must be content +with ten." + +"Ten won't do," said Sabina obstinately. + +Mrs. Vane made a gesture of impatience. + +"Reach me that jewel-box over there," she said. "Yes; bring it close--I +have the key. Here are two five-pound notes. And here--take this ring, +this bracelet--they are worth far more than ten pounds--get what you can +for them." + +"I'd rather have the money," said Sabina; "but, if I must put up with +this, I must. I'll be off in a couple of days." + +"You had better not tell anyone before hand that you are going. Some +people might--think it their duty to interfere." + +"All right--I'll keep quiet, don't you fear, ma'am! Well, then, that's +settled. If I go to London, you'll send me the fifty pound a quarter. +And it must be regular, if you please--else I'll have to come down here +after it." + +"You will not have to do that," said Mrs. Vane coldly. + +"Very well. Then I'll say good-bye to you, ma'am. Hope you'll get safely +through your troubles; but it seems to me that you're in an uncommon +risky position." + +"And, if I am," said Flossy, with sudden anger, "whose fault is it but +yours?" + +Sabina shrugged her shoulders, and did not seem to think it worth while +to reply. She walked to the door, and let herself out without another +look or word. + +She knew her way about Beechfield Hall perfectly well; and it was +perhaps of set purpose that she turned down a passage that led past the +nursery door. The door was open, and Master Dick was drawing a +horse-and-cart up and down the smooth boards of the corridor. It was his +favorite playing-place on a summer evening. He stopped short when he saw +Sabina, and looked at her with observant eyes. + +"This isn't your way, you know," he said, facing her gravely. "This +passage leads to my room, and Enid's room, not to the kitchens; and you +belong to the kitchens, don't you?" + +Sabina stopped and eyed him strangely. She looked at his delicate +sharp-featured little face, at his fair hair and blue eyes, at the +dainty neatness of his apparel, and the costly toy which he held in his +hands. Her own bold eyes softened as she looked. She half knelt down and +held out her arms. + +"Will you kiss me once, dearie, before I go away?" + +Dick looked at her wonderingly. Then he came and put his little arms +around her neck and kissed her once, twice, thrice. + +"Don't cry," he said; "I didn't know you were so nice and kind. But, you +see, I've only seen you in the shop." + +"You won't see me in the shop any more. I'm going away," said Sabina, +utterly forgetful of her promise to Mrs. Vane. + +"Are you?" said Dick. "Oh, then, won't there be any more sweeties in +your windows? Or will some one else sell them?" + +"Some one else, I expect. That's all that children care for!" cried +Sabina, springing to her feet. "He's got no heart!" + +Turning her face suddenly, she saw that there had been a spectator of +the little scene--a spectator at the sight of whom Sabina Meldreth +turned deadly white. Miss Vane stood at the nursery door. She had been +sitting there, and had heard Sabina's words and poor little Dick's +innocent reply. + +"You are wrong," she said gravely, with her eyes intent on Sabina's pale +distorted face. "He has a heart--he is very loving and gentle. But you +cannot expect him to love you when he does not know you. If ever he knew +you better, he would--perhaps--love you more." + +This speech, uttered quite gently and even pitifully, had a curious +effect upon Sabina. She burst into tears, and turned away, hiding her +face and sobbing as she went. + +Enid stood for a moment in the doorway, holding the door-post by one +hand, and sadly watching the retreating figure until it disappeared. +Then Dick pulled at her dress. + +"Cousin Enid, why does that woman cry? And why did she want to kiss me? +Was she angry or sorry, or what?" + +"Sorry, I think, dear," said Enid, as she went back to her seat. + +She drew Dick upon her knee and caressed him tenderly for a few moments; +but Dick felt, to his surprise, that the kisses she bestowed on him were +mingled with tears. + +"Cousin Enid, why do you cry too?" + +But all she answered was-- + +"Oh, Dick, Dick--my poor little Dick--I hope you will never--never +know!" Which poor little Dick could not understand. + + * * * * * + +Hubert Lepel arrived on the following day. He had not been to Beechfield +Hall for some weeks, and he seemed to feel it incumbent upon him to make +up to Enid for his long absence by presents and compliments; for he had +brought her a beautiful bracelet, and was unusually profuse in his +expressions of regard and admiration. And yet Enid seemed scarcely so +pleased as a young girl in similar circumstances ought to have seemed. +Indeed she shrank a little from private conversation with him, and +looked harassed and troubled. + +It was perhaps in consequence of this fact that three days after his +arrival Hubert sought a private interview with his sister. Flossy had +meanwhile not spoken a word; she had been watching and waiting for those +three days. + +"Florence, I am inclined to think that you were mistaken." + +"So am I," thought Flossy to herself; but aloud she only asked, "Why, +dear?" with perfect tranquility. + +"About Enid. I--I am beginning to think that she doesn't much care." He +said the last words slowly, with his eyes on the tip of his boot. + +"I am sure you are mistaken," said Flossy quietly. "But she is not +demonstrative, and--well, I may as well say it to you--she has taken +some idea into her head--something about me--about the past----" + +She faltered skilfully; but she kept her eyes on Hubert's face, and saw +that it wore a guilty look. + +"Well, Flossy, you are right," he said. "She has heard +something--village talk, I suppose--and I cannot get her to tell me what +it is." + +"She means perhaps to tell some one else?" said Mrs. Vane, with +bitterness. + +"No, I believe not. She has no wish to harm you, poor child, although +she thinks that the General ought not to be deceived. However, I +persuaded her to abandon that idea, showing her that it was not her duty +to tell a thing that would so utterly destroy his happiness." Florence +turned away her head. "I felt myself a villain," Hubert continued +gravely, "in counseling her to stifle her conscientious scruples, +Florence; but, for your sake and your husband's sake, I pleaded with +her, and prevailed on her to keep silence--she will tell no one but +myself after our marriage." + +"You had better not let her open the subject with you at all. It will +only be productive of unhappiness." Flossy discerned the entanglement at +once--she saw that Hubert meant one thing and Enid another; but out of +their cross-purposes she divined a way of keeping the girl silent. "For +my sake Hubert, don't discuss my terrible past between you. What good +would it do? Promise me that, when you are married, you will not let her +speak of it--even to you." She shed a tear or two as she spoke. + +"Poor Flossy!" said Hubert, laying his hand on her arm. "Don't grieve, +dear! I have no right to say anything, have I? Yes, I promise you I will +not let her say a word about the matter, either now or afterwards, if I +can help it, and certainly to no one beside myself." + +And with this promise Flossy feigned contentment. But, when Hubert had +left her, she paced up and down the room with cheeks that flamed with +excitement, and eyes that glowed with the dull red light of rage. + +"What was I thinking about to bring this engagement to pass?" she said +to herself. "Yet, after all, it is better so. Hubert has a reason for +silencing her; with any other man, she would have the matter out in a +trice, and ruin me. Now what is the next move? To delay the marriage, of +course. I will come round prettily to the General's view, and uphold him +in his determination not to allow the marriage for at least two years. +So Enid says that she will not betray me until she is married, does she? +Then she will never have the chance; for a great deal may happen--to a +delicate girl like Enid Vane--in two long years." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Hubert had been worried and overworked of late; it had appeared to him a +good thing that he should spend a few of the spring days at Beechfield, +and try to recover in the society of his sister and his betrothed the +serenity that he had lost. But this seemed after all no easy thing to +do. He was annoyed to find himself irritated by small matters; his +equanimity, usually perfect, was soon ruffled; and, although he did not +always show any outward sign of vexation, he felt that his temper was +not quite under his own control. And it was Enid, curiously enough, who +irritated him most. + +"Who is this new singer," she asked one day, "about whom people are +talking so much?" + +"My dear Enid, how am I to know which singer you mean?" he said, +letting the newspaper drop from his hand, and clasping his hands +leisurely behind his head. "There are so many new singers!" + +They had been having tea under the beech-tree, and, as usual, had been +left alone to do their love-making, undisturbed. Their love-making was +of a very undemonstrative character. Enid sat in one comfortable +basket-chair, Hubert in another, at a yard's distance. Their +conversation went on in fragments, interspersed by long pauses filled up +by an orchestra of birds in the branches overhead. + +"I do not remember her name exactly," said Enid. "The Tollemaches were +talking about her yesterday; they heard her in town last week. 'Cynthia' +something--'Cynthia,' I remember that, because it is such an uncommon +name." + +"I suppose you mean Miss Cynthia West," said Hubert, after a very long +pause. + +"Yes, 'Cynthia West'--that was the name. Have you heard her?" + +"Yes." + +"And do you think her very wonderful?" + +"She is a remarkably fine singer." + +"Oh, I hope we shall hear her when we next go up to London! Aunt Leo +wants me to stay with her." + +"That will be very nice," said Hubert, bestirring himself a little. +"Then you will hear all the novelties. But I would not go just yet if I +were you, London has not begun to wake up again after its winter sleep." + +"What a horrible place it must be!" said Enid, with a little shiver. + +"You think so? It is my home." + +There was an accent in his voice which impressed Enid painfully. She +clasped her hands rather tightly together in her lap, and said, after +another pause, in a lower tone-- + +"I dare say I should grow fond of it if I lived there." + +"As you will do, in time," said Hubert, with a smile. "You must try to +believe that you will soon be as absorbed in town-life as every other +woman; that concerts and theatres and balls will make up for green +fields and the songs of birds; that men are more interesting than brooks +and flowers; that to shop and to gossip are livelier occupations than +visiting the poor and teaching little Dick. Don't you think you can +imagine it?" + +She shook her head. + +"I can't imagine it; but, if I had to do it, I would try. I don't think +your picture is very attractive, if I may say so, Hubert." + +"Don't you, dear? Why not?" + +"It sounds so unreal. Do women pass their lives in that frivolous, vapid +way?" + +"Not all of them, of course. There are women who have work to do," said +Hubert, looking idly into the distance, as if he were thinking of some +one or something that he could not see. + +"Oh, yes, I know--working women--professional women--women," said Enid, +with an innocent smile, "like Cynthia West." + +Hubert gave a slight start; then, to cover it, he changed his position, +bringing his arms down and crossing them on his breast. + +"You might tell me what she is like," continued Enid, with more +playfulness of manner than she generally showed. "You tell me so little +about London people! Is she handsome?" + +"Yes, very." + +"Dark or fair?" + +"Very dark." + +"Is she an Englishwoman?" pursued Enid. + +"I am sure I don't know. I never asked." + +"You know her then?" + +"What makes you ask all these questions?" said Hubert, as if he had not +heard the last. "Who has put Miss West into your head in this way?" He +looked annoyed. + +Enid at once put out a caressing hand. + +"I did not mean to be too inquisitive, Hubert dear. But the Tollemaches +are very musical, and they were talking a great deal about her. They +said they saw you at the concert when she came out--some Italian +teacher's semi-private concert--and they seemed to think that you knew +the whole set of people who were there." + +Mentally Hubert made some uncharitable remarks on the future destiny of +the Tollemaches; but he controlled himself so far as to answer coolly-- + +"I know several of that set, certainly. I know Miss West a little." + +"How delightful," cried Enid. "I should like to meet some of these great +artists. Will you ever be able to introduce me to her, do you think, +Hubert?" + +"I think not," said Hubert, knitting his brows. He did not find himself +able to turn the subject quite as easily as he could have wished. + +"Oh, isn't she nice?" hazarded Enid doubtfully. "I always fancy that the +people who sing and act in public can't be quite as nice as the people +who stay in their own home-circle. I know that you will think me very +narrow-minded to say so, but I can't help it." + +"I am afraid that I do think it rather narrow-minded," said Hubert +quietly, but with a dangerous lighting of his eyes. "You must surely +know that some of these singers are as good, as noble, as womanly as any +of your sheltered young ladies in their home-circles, who have not +genius enough to make themselves talked of by the world!" + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so!" said Enid, quite unconscious of the storm that +she was exciting in Hubert's breast. "But it is difficult to understand +why they prefer a public life to a private one. Do you think they really +like appearing on the stage?" + +"I am sure they do," said Hubert, with a short laugh. "You cannot +understand it as yet, I suppose; you will understand it by-and-by. It +would be a very poor lookout for a novelist and playwright like myself, +Enid, if every one thought as you do." + +And then he got up and walked to meet the General, who was approaching +the tea-table, and, as the two were soon deep in political matters, Enid +presently slipped away unobserved. + +She felt vaguely that she had vexed or disappointed her lover; she knew +the tones of his voice well enough to feel sure that in some way she had +said what he did not approve. And yet, on reflection, she could not see +that she had given him legitimate cause of offence. She knew that he did +not agree with her in preferring country to town; or in thinking that +women who sang in public were not quite of her class; but she did not +think that he ought to be angry with her for expressing her views. He +perplexed her very much by his moments of irritation, of coldness, of +absence of mind. At times he was certainly very different. He could be +most tender, though always with the tenderness of a grown man to a +child, of a strong person towards a weak one--and this was a kind of +tenderness which did not satisfy Enid's heart. Sometimes indeed she was +thankful that it was so, feeling as if any great display of affection on +his part would be overwhelming, out of place; but at other times she +felt that his calm kindness was almost an insult to the woman whom he +had asked to be his wife. A little while back she would not have thought +so--she would have been well content with his behavior; but a new factor +had come into her life since her engagement to Hubert Lepel, some new +and agitating consciousness of power had dawned upon her, with a +revelation of faculties and influences to which she had hitherto been a +stranger; and, in presence of these novel emotions and discoveries, +Hubert was weighed in the balance and found wanting. + +Meanwhile Hubert was as uncomfortable as a man could well be. He had +always meant to be faithful and tender to Enid--for whom, as he had +said, he would do anything in his power to save her from unhappiness; on +the other hand, he found the task more difficult than he had dreamed. He +had seen her first as a sweet, docile, pliable creature, ready to be +led, ready to be taught, and he had meant to mould her to his will. But, +lo and behold, the girl was not really pliable at all! She had a +distinct character, an individuality of her own, as different from any +ideal of Hubert's as ice from fire. Her inability to appreciate the +artistic side of life--as he put it to himself--her dislike to the great +town where all his interests lay--these were traits which troubled him +out of proportion to their intrinsic worth. How could he be happy with a +woman who differed from him so entirely in habits, taste, and training? +He forgot for a moment that he had asked her to marry him in order that +she might be made happy--that he had solemnly put aside from himself all +thought of personal joy. But human nature is weak, and renunciation not +always pleasant. It occurred to his mind that Enid herself might not be +very happy if married to a man with whom she was not in sympathy. + +It was half with relief, half with regret, that he listened to a +monologue from the General on the subject of Enid's marriage. + +"I always disapproved of early marriages," he said sapiently; "they +never turn out well. And Enid is delicate; she must not take the cares +of a household upon her until she is older and stronger. Don't ask me +for her until she is twenty-one, Hubert! She shall not marry till then +with my consent." He had never spoken so strongly before; but he was +reinforced by Flossy's recently-bestowed approval. Till within the last +few days, Flossy had been all for a speedy marriage. She said now that +she was convinced that her "dear Richard" was perfectly right, and the +General was "cock-a-hoop" accordingly. "I need not threaten; you know +very well that I have the whole control of the money that would go to +her dowry--I need say nothing more. I will have no marriage talked +about--no engagement even--for the present. Mind you, Enid is not +engaged to you, Hubert. If she thinks fit to change her mind, she may do +so." + +"Certainly, sir." + +"And, if you think fit to change your mind, you may do so too. Nobody +wants either of you to marry where you do not love; the worst thing in +the world!" + +"When is this prohibition to be removed?" asked Hubert. "It seems to me +a little hard upon--upon us both." + +"If Enid is stronger, I will allow her to be engaged in a year's time," +said the General, "but not before; and I shall tell her so." + +The first time that Hubert found himself alone with Enid he said-- + +"The General seems to have changed his mind about our engagement, Enid." + +"Yes; he told me so," she answered meekly. + +"He says we are not to consider ourselves engaged." + +"Yes." + +"I am very sorry that he should take that view----" + +"Don't be sorry, please!" she said, quickly interrupting him. "I think +that it is better so." + +"Better, Enid?" + +"Yes. He says that I am not strong--and it is true. I feel very weak +sometimes, not strong enough to bear much, I am afraid. If I were to +become an invalid, I should not marry." She spoke gently, but with great +resolution. + +"That is all a morbid fancy of yours," said Hubert. "You will be better +soon. After this summer, the General talks of winter in the Riviera. +That will do you all the good in the world." + +"I think not," she answered quietly. "I am afraid that I am not so +likely to recover as you think. And, if not, nothing on earth will +induce me to marry any man. Remember that, Hubert--if I am not better, I +will not marry you. I intend to join the sisters at East Winstead." + +"It is that meddling parson who is at the bottom of this, I'll swear!" +said Hubert angrily, quitting her side and pacing about the room. He +noticed that at his words the color rose in the girl's pale cheeks. + +"If you mean Mr. Evandale," she said, "I can assure you that he has +never said a word to me about East Winstead. It is entirely my own +wish." + +"My dear child," said Hubert, halting in front of her, "the last thing +we want is to force your wishes in any direction. If, for instance, you +wish to throw me over and be a nun, do so by all means. I only ask you +to be true to yourself, and to see that you do not act on impulse, or so +as to blight the higher impulses of your nature. I can say no more." + +Enid looked at him wistfully, and seemed inclined to speak; but the +entrance of her uncle at that moment put a stop to further conversation, +and the subject was not reopened before Hubert's return to town. + +"No engagement--free to do as I please." The words hummed themselves in +Hubert's mind to the accompaniment of the throbs of the steam-engine all +the way back to London. What did it mean? What did Enid herself mean? +Was it not a humiliating position for a man to be in? Was it fair either +to him or to the girl? Did it not mean, as a matter of fact, that Flossy +had been mistaken, and that Enid was not in the least in love with him? +He could not say that she had been especially affectionate of late. +Passively gentle, sweet, amiable, she always was, but not emotional, not +demonstrative. At that moment Hubert would have given ten years of his +life to know what was in her heart--what she really meant, and wanted +him to do. + +Arrived at Charing Cross Station, he seemed uncertain as to his +movements. He hesitated when the porter asked him what he should do with +his luggage, and gave an order which he afterwards contradicted. + +"No," he said, "I won't do that. Put my things on a cab. All right! +Drive to No.--Russell Square." + +This was his home-address; but, when there, he did not go up-stairs. He +told his landlady to send his things to his room, and not to expect him +back to dinner, as he meant to dine at his club. + +He did so; but after dinner his fitful hesitancy seemed to revive. He +smoked a cigarette, talked a little to one of his friends, then went out +slowly and, as it seemed, indecisively into the street, and called a +hansom-cab. Then his indecision seemed to leave him. He jumped in, +shouted an address to the driver, and was driven on to a quiet square in +Kensington, where he knocked at the door of a tall narrow house, only +noticeable in the daytime by reason of the masses of flowers in the +balcony, and at night by the rose-colored blinds, illuminated by the +light of a lamp, in the drawing-room windows. + +The servant who opened the door welcomed him with a smile, as if his +face was well known to her. He passed her with a word of explanation, +and marched up-stairs to the first-floor, where he tapped lightly at the +drawing-room door, and then, without waiting, walked into the room. + +A girl in a red dress, who had been kneeling on the rug before the fire, +rose to her feet as he came in and uttered a blithesome greeting. + +"At last!" she said. "So here you are, monsieur! I was wondering what +had become of you, and thought you had deserted me altogether!" + +"Could I do that?" said Hubert, in a tone in which mock gallantry was +strangely mingled with a tenderness which was altogether passionate and +earnest. "Do you really think that I ever could do that?" + +The girl he spoke to was Cynthia West. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Cynthia West made a delightful picture as she stood in the glow of the +firelight and the rose-shaded lamps. Her dress, of deep red Indian silk, +partly covered with puffings of soft-looking net of the same shade, was +cut low, to show her beautiful neck and throat; the sleeves were very +narrow, so that the whole length of her finely-shaped arm could be seen. +Her dusky hair gave her all the stateliness of a coronet; swept away +from her neck to the top of her head, it left only a few stray curls to +shadow with bewitching lightness and vagueness the smooth surface of the +exquisite nape. What was even more remarkable in Cynthia than the beauty +of her face was the perfection of every line and contour of her body; +the supple, swelling, lissom figure was full of absolute grace; she +could not have been awkward if she had tried. It was the characteristic +that chiefly earned her the admiration of men; women looked more often +at her face. + +"Are you alone?" said Hubert, smiling, and holding out both his hands, +in which she impulsively placed her own. + +"Quite alone. Madame has gone out; only the servants are in the house. +How charming! We can have a good long chat about everything!" + +"Everything!" said Hubert, sinking with a sigh of relief into the low +chair that she drew forward. "I shall be only too happy. I have +stagnated since I saw you last--which was in March, I believe--an age +ago! It is now April, and I am absolutely ignorant as to what has been +going on during the last few weeks." + +"You have been in the country?" laughed Cynthia. "How I pity you!" + +"You do not like the country?" + +"Not one little bit. I had enough of it when I was a child." + +"You were brought up in the country, were you?" said Hubert carelessly. +"I should never have taken you for a country-bred girl--although your +physique does not speak of town-life, after all." + +"Is that meant for a compliment?" said Cynthia, the clear color suddenly +rising in her cheeks. "Bah--I do not like compliments--from some people! +I should like to forget all about my early life--dull tiresome days! I +began to live only when I came to London." + +"Which was when you were about fifteen, was it not? You have never told +me where you lived before that." + +Cynthia made a little _moue_ of disgust. + +"You have always been much too polite hitherto to ask unpleasant +questions. I tell you I want to forget those earlier years. If you must +know, I was at school." + +"I beg your pardon," said Hubert; "I had no idea that the subject was so +unpleasant to you, or I would not have alluded to it, of course." + +Cynthia gave him a quick look. + +"You have a right to ask," she said, in a lower voice. "I suppose I +ought to tell you the whole story; but----" + +There was strong reluctance in her voice. + +"You need do nothing of the kind. I have no right at all; don't talk +nonsense, Cynthia. After all, what is the use of raking up old +reminiscences? I have always held that it is better to put the past +behind us--to live for the present and the future. All of us have +memories that we would gladly forget. Why not make it a business of life +to do so?" + +"'Forgetting those things which are behind,'" Cynthia murmured. + +She was sitting on a very low chair, her hands loosely clasped before +her, her eyes searching the embers of the fire. Hubert looked at her +curiously. + +"I never heard you quote Scripture before," he said, half laughing. + +"Why not? There are plenty of things in the Bible worth thinking about +and quoting too," said Cynthia briskly, but with a sudden change of +attitude. "It would be better for us both, I have no doubt, if we knew +it a little better, Mr. Lepel. Aren't you going to smoke? It does not +seem at all natural to see you without a cigar in your mouth." + +"What a character to give me! Smoke in this rose-tinted room?" + +"Madame's friends all smoke here. You need not be an exception. She +herself condescends at times to the luxury of a cigarette." + +"You call it a luxury?" + +"Certainly. Madame has initiated me. But you will understand that I +don't display my accomplishment to every one." + +"No--don't," said Hubert, a trifle gravely. + +She looked round at him with a pretty defiance in her eyes and a laugh +upon her face. + +"Don't you approve?" she said mockingly. "Ah, you have yet something to +learn! It is quite evident that you have been spending Easter in the +country, and its gentle dulness hangs about you still." + +"Gentle dulness!" Hubert thought involuntarily of Enid. Yes, the term +fitted her very well. Timid, gentle, dull--thus unjustly he thought of +her; while, as to Cynthia--whatever Cynthia's faults might be, she was +not dull--a great virtue in Hubert's eyes. + +"I think you could make me approve of anything you do," he said, as he +rose in obedience to her invitation to light his cigar. "Some people +have the grace of becomingness; they adorn all they touch." + +"What a magnificent compliment! I will immediately put it to the test," +said Cynthia lightly. She had also risen, and was examining a little +silver box on the mantelpiece. "Here Madame keeps her Russian +cigarettes," she said. "I have not set up a stock of my own, you see. +Now give me a light. There--I can do it quite skilfully!" she said, as +she placed one of the tiny _papelitos_ between her lips and gave one or +two dainty puffs. "Now does it become me?" + +"Excellent well!" said Hubert, who was leaning back in an enormous +chair, so long and deep that one lay rather than sat in it, and +regarding her with amusement. "'All what you do, fair creature, still +betters what is done.'" + +"Then I'm content," said Cynthia, seating herself and holding the +cigarette lightly between her fingers. + +She still kept it alight by an occasional little puff; but Hubert smiled +to see that her enjoyment of it was, as a humorist has said of his first +cigar, "purely of an intellectual kind." She enjoyed doing what was +unusual and _bizarre_--that was all. He wondered whence she sprang, this +brilliant creature of earth with instincts so keen, desires so ardent, +mind and imagination so much more fully developed than was usual with +girls of her age. Cynthia's beauty was undeniable; but even without +beauty, save that of youth, she would have been striking and remarkable. + +She was not conscious of his continued gaze at her; she seemed to be +lost in thought--perhaps of her earlier years, for presently she said in +a reflective tone-- + +"You were surprised at my quoting Scripture. I wonder why? I do not +seem such a bad person that I must not quote the Bible, do I?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I used to be at the head of the Bible-class always when I was at St. +Elizabeth's," she said dreamily. She did not notice that Hubert gave a +little start when he heard the name. + +"Your school was called St. Elizabeth's?" + +"Yes." + +"At East Winstead?" + +"Yes"--this time rather hesitatingly. "Why?" + +"Did you happen to know a girl called Jane Wood?" + +The two looked at each other steadily for a minute or two. Hubert had +spoken with resolute quietness; he thought that Cynthia's expression +hardened, and that her color failed a little as she replied-- + +"I remember her quite well. She ran away." + +"Before you left?" + +"Before I left," said the girl, looking down at the cigarette she had +taken from her lips and held between her fingers. Suddenly she threw it +into the fire, and sitting erect, while a hot flush crossed her face, +went on, "Why do you want to know?" + +"Oh, nothing! What sort of a girl she was, for instance." + +"A wild little creature--a horrid, ungrateful, bad-tempered girl! +They--we were all glad when she went." + +"Why, the old woman--what's her name?--Sister Louisa--said that she was +a general favorite!" + +"I'm sure she wasn't. When were you there?" + +"The day after her departure, I think." + +"And what took you there, Mr. Lepel?" There was a touch of bewilderment +in Cynthia's voice. + +"Curiosity, for the most part." + +"No one was at the school whom you knew, I suppose?" + +"No," said Hubert, reflecting that Jane Wood had gone before he paid his +visit. + +Perhaps Cynthia did not understand this point. At any rate, she looked +relieved. + +"I was glad when my time came to leave," she said more freely. + +"Did you not like the place?" + +"Pretty well. It was frightfully, awfully dull!" + +"And yet you had never known anything more exciting? Were you really +conscious at the time that it was dull, or did you realise its dulness +only afterwards?" + +"Oh, I must have had it in my blood to know the difference between +dulness and enjoyment," she said lightly; "otherwise----" + +"Well--otherwise?" + +"Otherwise," she said smiling at him, "how should I know it now? There +is a vast difference between dulness and enjoyment--as vast as that +between happiness and misery; and I know them both." + +"Cynthia," he said, rising and leaning towards her--"Cynthia, child, you +do enjoy your present life--you are happy, are you not?" + +She looked at him silently. The smile faded; he noticed that her bosom +rose and fell more quickly than before. + +"You think I ought to be?" she said. "But why? Because I have been in +Italy--because I have had a little success or two--because people say +that I am handsome and that I have a voice? That is not my idea of +happiness, Mr. Lepel, if it is yours; but you know as well as I do that +it is not happiness at all. It is excitement if you like, but nothing +else--not even enjoyment." + +"What would you call enjoyment then, Cynthia? What is your idea of +happiness?" Her hurried breathing seemed to have infected him with like +shortness of respiration; there was a fire in his eyes. + +"Oh," she said looking away from him and holding her hands tightly +clasped upon her knee, "it is not different from other women's ideas of +happiness--it is quite commonplace! It means a safe happy home of my +own, with no reasonable fear that distrust or poverty or sin should +invade it--congenial work--a companion that I could love and trust and +work for and care for----" she stopped short. + +"A husband," said Hubert slowly, "and children to kiss your lips and +call you 'Mother,' and a man's love to soften and sweeten all the days +of your life." She nodded, but did not speak. "And I," he said, with an +irrepressible sigh--"I want a woman's love--I want a home too, and all +the sweet charities of home about me. Yes, that is happiness." + +"It will be yours by-and-by, I suppose," said Cynthia, in a rather +choked voice--he told her that he was engaged to be married. + +"I see no probability," he answered drily. "She--her guardian will not +allow an engagement." + +"But--she loves you?" + +"I do not think so; I am sure indeed that she does not!" + +"And you--you care for her?" + +"No; by Heaven, I do not!" + +"Then by-and-by you will meet somebody whom you love." + +"I have met somebody now," said Hubert, in a curiously dogged tone; +"but, as I am sure that she does not care a pin for me, there is no harm +in letting the secret out." + +"Who is she?"--in a startled tone. + +"She is a singer. She used to be an actress; but she has a magnificent +voice and is in training for the operatic stage. She will be a great +star one day, and I shall worship her from afar. But I have never met +anybody in the world who will ever be to me what that woman might have +been." + +"How do you know," said Cynthia, in a scarcely audible voice, "that you +are not so much to her as she is--you say--to you?" + +"How do I know? I am certain of it--certain that she regards me as a +useful, pleasant friend who is anxious to do his best for her in the +musical world, and nothing more. If I dreamed for a moment that I was +nearer and dearer to her than that, I should hold my tongue. But, as it +is, knowing that I am not worthy to kiss the hem of her garment, and +that if she knew all my unworthiness she would be the first to bid me +begone, I do not fear--now, once and once only--to tell her that I love +her with all my heart and mind and body and soul, and that I ask nothing +from her but permission to love on until the last day of my life." + +"Now, once and once only?" repeated Cynthia. + +She looked up and saw that he stood ready for departure. His face was +pale, his lips were tightly set, and his eyes sent forth a strange +defiant gleam which she had never seen before. He made three strides +towards the door before she collected herself sufficiently to start up +and speak. + +"No--no--you must not go! One moment! And what if--if"--she could +hardly get out the words--"what if the woman that you loved had loved +you too, ever since you saved her from poverty and disgrace and worse +than death in the London streets?" + +She held out her arms to him, as if praying him to save her once again. +He stood motionless, breathing heavily, swaying a little, as if impelled +at one moment to turn away and at another to meet her extended hands. + +"Then," he said at last--"then I should be of all men most miserable!" + +It was illogical, it was weak, it was base, after those words, to yield +to the tide of passion which for the first time in his life surged up in +his soul with its full strength and power. And yet he did yield--why, +let those who have loved like him explain. As soon as he had uttered his +protest, and it seemed as if the battle should be over and these two +divided from each other for evermore, the two leapt together, and were +clasped in each other's arms. + +She lay upon his breast; his arms were around her, his lips pressed +passionately to hers. In the ecstacy of that moment conscience was +forgotten, the past was obliterated; nothing but the fire and energy of +love remained. And then--quite suddenly--came a revulsion of feeling in +the mind of the man whose guilt had, after all, not left him utterly +without remorse. To Cynthia's terror and dismay, he sank upon his knees +before her, and, with his arms clasped round her waist, and his face +pressed close to her slight form, burst into a passion, an agony of +sobs. She did not know what to do or say! she could but entreat him to +be calm, repeating that she loved him--that she would love him to the +last day of her life. It was of no use, the agony would have its way. + +He did not try to explain his singular conduct. When he rose at last, he +kissed her on the forehead, and, murmuring, somewhat inarticulately, +that he would see her on the morrow, he left the room. She heard the +street door close, and knew, with a strange mixture of fear and joy, +that he had gone, and that he loved her. In the consciousness of this +latter fact she had no fear of the morrow. + +He might perhaps have kept his lips from an avowal of love, which was +afterwards bitter to him as death if he had known that at St. +Elizabeth's Cynthia West had once been known as the convict's daughter, +Jane Wood. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +"Look here, Cynthia," he said abruptly, when he met her the next +morning--"this won't do! I was to blame; I made a fool of myself last +night." + +"What--in saying that you loved me?" she inquired. + +"Yes--in saying that I loved you. You know very well that I did not +intend to say it." + +"Does that matter?" she asked, in a low voice. She had taken his hand, +and was caressing his strong white fingers tenderly. + +"I did it against my conscience." + +"Because of that other girl?" + +He considered a moment and then said "Yes." But he was not prepared for +the steadily penetrating gaze which she immediately turned upon him. + +"I don't quite believe that," she said slowly. + +"You doubt my word?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, in a dry matter-of-fact way; "I doubt everybody's +word. Nobody tells the whole truth in this agreeable world. You forget +that I am not a baby--that I have knocked about a good deal and seen the +seamy side of life. Perhaps you would like me better if I had not? You +would like me to have lived in the country all my life, and to be gentle +and innocent and dull?" + +"I could not like you better than as you are," he said, passing one arm +round her. + +"That's right. You do love me?" + +"Yes, Cynthia." + +"That is not a very warm assurance. Do you feel so coldly towards me +this morning?" + +"My dearest--no!" + +"That's better. Dear Hubert---- may I call you Hubert?"--he answered with +a little pressure of his arm--"if you really care for me, I can say what +I was going to say; but, if you don't--if that was how you made a fool +of yourself by saying so when you did not mean it--then tell me, and I +shall know whether to speak or to hold my tongue." + +She spoke forcibly, with a directness and simplicity which enchanted +Hubert in spite of himself. He assured her that he loved her from the +bottom of his heart, that she might speak freely, and that he would be +guided, if possible, by what she said--he knew that she was good and +wise and generous. And then he kissed her once more on the lips, and she +believed his words. She began to speak, blushing a little as she did so. + +"I only want to understand. You are not married, Hubert?" + +"My darling--no!" + +"And you said last night that you were not engaged?" + +"I am not engaged," he said more slowly. + +"You have--some other engagement--entanglement--of which I do not know?" + +"No, Cynthia." + +"Then," she, said, facing him with a boldness which he thoroughly +admired, "why do you want to draw back from what you said to me last +night?" + +Hubert looked more than serious--he looked unhappy. + +"Draw back," he said slowly--"that is a hard expression!" + +"It is a hard thing," she rejoined. + +"Cynthia, if I had suspected--if you had ever given me any reason to +suppose--that you were willing to think of me as more than a friend, I +would not have spoken. I am not worthy of you; I can but drag you back +from a brilliant career; it is not fair to you." + +The girl stood regarding him meditatively; there was neither fear nor +sign of yielding in her eyes. + +"That does not sound natural," she said; "it does not sound quite real. +Excuse me, but you would not, merely as a novelist, make your hero try +to back out of an engagement for that reason. If he gave it, the reader +would know at once there was something else--something in the +background. I believe that the amiable heroine would accept the +explanation and go away broken-hearted. But I," said Cynthia, with a +little stamp of impatience--"I am not amiable, and I mean neither to +believe in your explanation nor to break my heart; and so, Mr. Hubert +Lepel, you had better tell me what this is really all about." + +"Ah, Cynthia, I had better let you think me a fool or a brute than lead +you into this!" cried Hubert. + +"But I should never think you a fool or a brute, whatever you did." + +"You do not know what you might think of me--in other circumstances." + +"Try," she said, almost in a whisper, slipping her hand into his. + +But he shook his head and looked down, knitting his brows uneasily. + +"What will satisfy you?" she asked at length, evidently convinced from +his manner that something was more seriously amiss than she had thought. +"Do you not know that where I give my love I give my whole trust and +confidence. More than that, I shall never take it away, even if all the +world told me--even if I had some reason to believe--that you were not +worthy of my trust. Oh, what does the world know of you? I understand +you much better. Can't you see that a woman loves a man for what he is, +and not for what he does?" + +"What he does proceeds from what he is, Cynthia, I am afraid," said +Hubert sadly. + +"Not always. People are often betrayed into doing things that do not +show their real nature at all," said the girl eagerly. "A man gives way +to a sudden temptation--he strikes a blow--and the world calls him a +ruffian and a murderer; or he takes what belongs to another because he +is starving, and the world calls him a common thief. We cannot judge." + +He had drawn away from her, and was resting his arm on the mantelpiece, +and his head upon his arm. A strange vibration passed through his frame +as he listened to her words. + +"Do you think, then," he said at last, speaking with difficulty, and +without raising his head, "that you could love a man that the world +condemned, or would condemn, if they knew all--could you love a man who +was an outcast, a felon, a--a murderer?" + +"I am sure that I could," said Cynthia fervently. For the moment she was +not thinking of Hubert, however, but of another man whom she had loved, +and whom she had seen condemned to death for the murder of Sydney Vane. + +Hubert put out his left hand and drew her close to him. Even now there +was one thing that he dared not say; he did not dare ask her whether she +could love a man who had allowed another to bear the punishment which +he had deserved, although he had hidden his guilt from a desire to save +another rather than himself. He remained for a few moments in the same +posture, with his face hidden on his right arm and his left encircling +Cynthia; but, after a time, he stood up, drew her closer to his breast +and kissed her forehead. Then he put her away from him and crossed his +arms across his chest. His face was pale and drawn, there were beads of +perspiration on his forehead, and his lip was bitten underneath his +thick moustache. + +"Cynthia," he said hoarsely, "to you, at least, I will try to be an +honest man. I never knew a woman as brave, as true as you are; I'll do +my best, at any rate, to be not altogether unworthy of you, my darling. +I would give all I have in the world if I could ask you to marry me, +Cynthia; but I can't. There is an obstacle; you were right--I am not +free." + +"I thought there was some real reason," she said quietly. "I knew you +would not have spoken as you did without a reason." + +"I am not engaged; or perhaps I should say that I am engaged, and that +she is free. If at the end of two years she is stronger in health, and +her uncle withdraws his opposition, and she cares to accept me, I have +promised to be ready. The last thing I ever meant was to ask any other +woman to be my wife. But I was weak enough not to deny myself the +bitter-sweet solace of telling you that I loved you; and thus I have +drawn down punishment on myself. Cynthia, can you ever forgive me?" + +She did not answer; she seemed to be thinking deeply. After a few +minutes' silence, she looked at him wistfully, and asked another +question. + +"You said she did not love you. Was that true?" + +"I believe so." + +"Then why does she want to marry you?" There was something child-like in +Cynthia's tone. + +"I don't think she does, Cynthia; I think it is only her uncle's wife +who has been trying to bring about a marriage between us; and perhaps it +was my conviction that this marriage would never come about which made +me less careful than I might have been. Assuredly I never intended to +tell you what I told you last night." + +"But I am glad you did," said Cynthia, almost inaudibly. Then she put +her hand on Hubert's arm, and looked at him with a soft and beautiful +expression in her large dark eyes. "I am glad, because it will make life +easier for me to know that you care for me. Now I want you to listen to +me for a few moments. From what you say, I think that this girl is weak +in health, an orphan, and not perhaps very happy in her home? Yes, that +is so--is it not? Do you think then that I would for a moment rob her of +what might make all her happiness? You say that she does not care for +you. But you may be mistaken; you know you thought that--that I did not +care either. You must wait for her, and see what will happen at the end +of the two years. If she claims you then--well, it will be for you to +decide whether you will marry her; but I shall not marry you unless she +gives you up of her own free will. And, if she does--and if you care for +me still----" + +"Then you will be my wife?" + +Cynthia paused. + +"Then," she said slowly--"then you may, if you like, ask me again. But +then you will perhaps remember that I am a nobody--that I was born in a +cottage and educated at a charity-school--that I--that I---- No, I can't +tell you my history now--don't ask me; if you love me at all, don't ask +me that! I will tell you--I promise you--before I marry you, if ever--at +the end of two years--at the end of half a century--you ask me again." + +She was weeping in his arms--she, the brilliant, joyous, successful +woman, with a life of distinction opening out before her, with spirits +and courage that never failed, with beauty and gifts that were capable +of charming all the world--weeping like a child, and in need of comfort +like a child. What could he do? + +"My darling, my own darling," he said, "I cannot bear to hear you speak +so! Do you doubt my love for you, Cynthia? Tell me nothing but what you +please; I shall never ask you a question--never desire to know more than +what you choose to tell. And in two years---- Oh, what can I say? Marry +me to-morrow, Cynthia, my dearest, and let everything else go by!" + +"And despise you ever after for yielding to my weakness?" she said, +checking her tears. "Do you think I could bear you to lower yourself for +my sake? No; you shall keep your word to her--to the woman, whoever she +may be, who has your word. But I--I have your heart." + +She sent him away from her then with proud but gentle words, caressing +him, flattering him, after the fashion of women with those they love, +but inexorably determined that he should keep his word. For she had a +strong sense of honor and honesty, and she could not bear to think that +he could be false to anyone who trusted him. It was weighing heavily on +her own conscience that she had deceived him once. + +Hubert left her with his senses in a whirl. He knew, as he said, that he +had been weak; but Cynthia's beauty intoxicated him. But for her +determination, her courage, he would have failed to keep up even the +appearance of faith with Enid--he would have been utterly careless of +Enid's trust in him. But this declension Cynthia was resolved not to +permit. It was strange to see what nobleness of mind and generosity of +feeling existed beneath her light and careless demeanor; and while these +characteristics humiliated her lover, they filled him with genuine pride +and admiration. She was not a woman to be lightly wooed and lightly won; +she was worthy of respect, even of reverence. And, as he thought of her, +his heart burned with anger against the innocent girl at Beechfield who +had dared to speak of this noble woman with something very like +contempt. + +Cynthia was glad that she had no public engagement for that evening. She +was invited to go with Madame della Scala to a large party; but she +pleaded a headache, and begged to be allowed to stay at home. Madame +scolded her playfully, but did not oppose her whim; she was sufficiently +proud of her pupil and housemate to let her take her own way--a +practical compliment for which Cynthia was grateful. + +When the old lady had gone, Cynthia returned to her favorite +rose-lighted sitting-room, and sank somewhat languidly into a +lounging-chair. She had forbidden Hubert to return to her that +night--she had said that she wanted to be alone; and now she was half +inclined to repent her own peremptoriness. "I might have let him come +just once," she said to herself. "I shall not allow him to come often, +or to be anything but a friend to me; but I feel lonely to-night. It is +foolish of me to be depressed. A month ago I should have thought myself +happy indeed if I could have known that he loved me; and now I am more +miserable than ever. I suppose it is the thought of that other +girl--mean, jealous, miserable wretch that I am! But I will not be mean +or jealous any longer. He has promised himself to her, and he shall keep +his word." + +She was startled from these reflections by the sound of a tap at the +door, followed by the entrance of a maid whose office it was especially +to attend on Miss West. + +"If you please, miss," she said, in a low and rather confidential +tone--"if you please, there's a--a person at the door that asks to see +you." + +"It is late for visitors," said Cynthia. "A lady, Mary?" + +"No, miss." + +"A gentleman? I do not see gentlemen, when Madame is out, at this hour +of the night. It is ten o'clock. Tell him to come to-morrow." + +"I did, miss. He said to-morrow wouldn't do. He asked me to mention +'Beechfield' to you, miss, and to say that he came from America." + +"Old or young, Mary?" The color was leaving Cynthia's face. + +"Old, miss. He has white hair and black eyes, and looks like a sort of +superior working-man." + +Cynthia deliberated. Mary watched her in silence, and then made a +low-voiced suggestion. + +"There's cook's young man in the kitchen, miss, and he's a policeman. +Shall I ask him to step up to the front and tell the man to move on?" + +"Oh, no, no!" said Cynthia, suddenly shrinking. "I will see the man, +Mary. I think that perhaps he knows a place--some people that I used to +know." + +There was a sort of terror in her face. Mary turned rather reluctantly +to the door. + +"Shall I come in too, miss, or shall I stand in the passage?" + +"Neither," said Cynthia, with a little laugh. "Go down to your supper, +Mary, and I will manage the visitor. Show him in here." + +She seemed so composed once more that Mary was reassured. The girl went +back to the hall door, and Cynthia rose to her feet with the look of one +who was nerving herself for some terrible ordeal. She kept her eyes upon +the door; but, when the visitor appeared, they were so dim with +agitation that she could hardly see the face or the features of the man +whom Mary decorously announced as-- + +"Mr. Reuben Dare." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Cynthia looked round at her visitor with a sort of timidity which she +did not often exhibit. He was apparently about sixty years of age, +broad-shouldered, and muscularly built, but with a stiffness of gait +which seemed to be either the result of chronic rheumatism or of an +accident which had partially disabled him. His face was brown, his eyes +were dark and bright; but his hair and beard were almost white, although +his eyebrows had not a grizzled tint. He was roughly but respectably +dressed, and looked like a prosperous yeoman or an artisan of the better +class. Cynthia glanced at him keenly, then seemed to gain confidence, +and asked him to sit down. The visitor obeyed; but Cynthia continued +standing, with her hands on the back of a heavy chair. + +"Mr. Reuben Dare?" she said at length, as the old man did not speak. + +"Come straight from Ameriky," said he--he sat bolt-upright on his chair, +and looked at the girl with a steady interest and curiosity which almost +embarrassed her--"and promised to look you up as soon as I got over +here. Can you guess who 'twas I promised, missy?" + +Cynthia grew first red and then white. + +"No," she said; "I am not sure that I can." + +"Is there nobody belonging to you that you haven't heard of for years +and years?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia; "I think perhaps there is." + +"A man," said Mr. Reuben Dare, leaning forward with his hands on his +knees, and trying to subdue his rather harsh voice to quietness--"a man +as was related to you, maybe?" + +"If you will say what you mean, I think I can answer you better," said +Cynthia. + +"Do you think I am going to say what I mean until I know what sort of a +young woman you are, and how you'll take the news I bring you?" said the +man. + +With a somewhat savage and truculent air he drew his eyebrows down over +his eyes as he spoke; but there was a touch of something else as +well--of stirred emotion, of doubt, of troubled feeling--which +dissipated Cynthia's fears at once. She left the chair which she had +been grasping with one hand, and came closer to her visitor. + +"I see that you are afraid to trust me," she said quickly. "You think +that perhaps I am hard and worldly, and do not want to have anything to +do with my relatives? That is not true. You are thinking--speaking--of +my poor father perhaps. As long as I was a child--a mere girl--I did not +think much about him, I was content to believe what people told me--not +that he was guilty--I never believed that!--but that I could do nothing +for him, and that I had better not interfere. When I was independent and +beginning to think for myself--about six months ago--I found out what I +might have done. Shall I go on to tell you what I did?" + +"Yes, yes--go on!" The man's voice was husky; his wrinkled hand trembled +as it lay upon his knee. He watched the girl's face with hungry eyes. + +"I wrote to the Governor of the prison," said Cynthia, "and told him +that I had only just discovered--having been such a child--that I could +write to my father or see him at regular intervals, and that I should +like to do so from time to time. He asked me in return how it was that +an intimation--which had been forwarded, I believe, to certain persons +interested in my welfare--of my father's fate had not been given to me. +My father had, by a desperate effort, succeeded in escaping from +Portland; he had never been recaptured; and, from certain information +received, the authorities believed that he was dead. He added however +that he had a shrewd suspicion that Andrew Westwood had thrown dust into +the eyes of the police, had left the country, and was not dead at all." + +"And begged you to communicate with the authorities if you heard from +him, I suppose?" + +"No; he did not go so far as that to the man's own daughter," said +Cynthia calmly. "And it would, of course, have been useless if he had." + +"Why--why?" + +"Because," said the girl, her lips suddenly trembling and her eyes +filling with tears--"because I love my father, and would do anything in +the world for him--if he would let me. Can you not tell me where he is? +I would give all I have to see him once again!" + +Reuben Dare fidgeted in his chair, and half turned his face away. Then, +without meeting her eager tearful eyes, he replied half sullenly-- + +"The Governor was right. He got away--away to America." + +"Oh, then he is living still? He is well?" + +"Oh, yes--he's living, and well enough! He hasn't done so badly neither. +He got some land and 'struck ile,' as they say in America; and living +under another name, and nobody knowing anything about him--he--well, +he's had fair luck." + +"And you come from him--you are a friend of his? Did he want to hear of +me?" + +"Yes, missy, he did. But he would scarce ha' known you if he'd met you +in the street--you, grown so tall and handsome and dressed so fine. It +was your name as gave him the clue--'Cynthia'--'Cynthia West'; for he +read in the papers as you were singing at concerts, and he says to +himself, 'Why, that's my gal, sure enough; and she hain't forgotten her +mother's name!'" + +"Go on!" said Cynthia quickly. + +"Go on? What do you mean?" asked Reuben Dare, a little suspiciously. +"There's nothing more to say, is there? And he asked me to make +inquiries while I was in England--that was all." + +"Oh, no, that was not all!" said Cynthia, drawing nearer, and holding +out her hands a little, like one under hypnotic influence, fascinated by +a power over which she had no control. "I can tell you the rest. The +more he thought of his child, and the more he remembered how she used to +love him and trust in him, the more he felt that he could not stay away +from her; and so, although the risk was great--terrible--he determined +to come back to England and see with his own eyes whether she was safe +and well. And when he saw her"--there was a sob in her voice--"he said +to himself that perhaps after all she was a hard, unfeeling creature who +had forgotten him, or a wicked, treacherous woman who would betray her +own father, and that he would go away back to America and never see her +again, forgetting to ask whether she had not a heart and a memory too, +and whether it might not be that she had loved him all her life, and +whether she was not longing to fall upon his neck and kiss his dear +face, and tell him that she wanted a father for many, many dreary years, +and that she trusts him, believes in him, loves him with all her heart! +Oh, father, father!"--and Cynthia lay sobbing on his breast. + +She had thrown herself impulsively on her knees beside him; her arms +were round his neck, and he was covering her face with kisses. He did +not attempt to deny that she had spoken the truth--that he was indeed +her father--the man who had been condemned to death, and whom she had +believed until this moment to be in America, if still indeed alive; but +neither did he try to prove the fact. He sat still, with his arms round +her, and--to her surprise--the tears running down his cheeks as freely +as they were running down her own. She looked up at him at last and +smiled rather piteously in his face. + +"Dear father," she said, "and have you come all this way and run into so +much danger just to see me?" + +"Yes, I have, Cynthy," said the man who called himself Reuben Dare. "I +said to myself, I can't get on any longer without seeing her, any way. +If that's my girl that sings--as her mother did before her--I shall know +her in a trice. But, bless you, my girl, I didn't--not till you began to +speak! And then t'was just like your mother." + +"Am I so much altered?" said Cynthia wistfully. + +"As much as you ought to be, my beauty, and no more. You ain't like the +skinny little bit of a thing that ran wild round Beechfield lanes; but +then you don't want to be. You're a good deal like your mother; but she +wasn't as dark as you. And, being so different, you see, I thought you +might be different in yourself--not ready to acknowledge your father as +belonging to you at all, maybe; and so I'd try you with a message first +and see what you said to that." + +"You are altered too, father." + +"Yes, my deary, I'm altered too. Hain't I had enough to alter me? +Injustice and oppression have almost broke my heart, and ague and +fever's taken the strength out o' my limbs, and a knock I got in the +States three years ago has nigh crippled me. I'm a broken-down man, with +only strength left for one thing--and that's to curse the hard-hearted +ruffian, whoever he was, that spoiled my life for me, and thought to +hang me by the neck or shut me up in prison for the rest of my days. If +ever I could come across him, I'd do my best to make him suffer as I +have suffered. I pray God night and day that He'll let me see that +rascal on his knees to me yet before I die!" + +His voice had grown loud and fierce, his eyes shone beneath the shaggy +eyebrows, his hand shook as he raised it to call down vengeance on the +man who had left him to his fate. Cynthia trembled in spite of her love +for him--the tones, the look, brought back memories which made her feel +that her father was in a great many ways unchanged, and that the wild, +lawless nature of the man might be suppressed but never utterly subdued. +She did not feel the slightest abatement of her love for him on this +account; but it suddenly made her aware of the dangers and difficulties +of his position, and aroused her fears for his safety, even in that +house. + +"Father," she said "are you sure that nobody will remember you?" + +Westwood laughed harshly. + +"They're not likely to know me," he said. "I've taken care to change my +looks since then;" and, by a sudden movement of his hand, he showed her +that hair, beard, and moustache were all fictitious, and that beneath +the silvery exterior there grew a scantier crop of sparse gray hair and +whiskers, which recalled his former appearance much more clearly to his +daughter's mind. + +"Oh, don't take them off!" she cried. "Somebody may come in--the door is +not locked! At another time, dear father, you will show me your real +face, will you not?" + +He looked at her with a mingling of pride and sorrow in his glance. + +"And you ain't wanting me to be found out then--you don't want to give +me up to the police?" + +"Father, how can you think of such a thing?" + +"Some women-folks would think of it, my girl. But you--you're fond of +your father still, Cynthy?" + +She answered by taking his rough hand in her own and kissing it +tenderly. + +"And you don't believe I killed Mr. Vane down at Beechfield--eh, Cynthy? +Because if you believe it, you know, you and me had better part without +more words about it. Least said, soonest mended." + +"I do not believe it--I never did!" said Cynthia proudly. + +"On your word and honor and Bible-oath, Cynthia?" + +"On my word and honor and on my Bible-oath, father," she said, repeating +the words, because she saw that he attached especial importance to the +formula. "I never believed and never will believe that you were guilty +of Sydney Vane's murder! My father"--she said it as proudly as if he had +been a Royal Prince--"was never capable of a base and wicked deed!" + +"It's her mother's voice," murmured the man, raising his hand to his +eyes, as if to shut out the sight of the young girl's face, and to +abstract himself from everything but the sound, "and it's her mother's +trust in me! Cynthia, my dear, what do you know o' your father to make +you so ready to stand by him?" There was a great and an unaccustomed +tenderness in his tone. "I'm a common man, and I've spent years of my +life in gaol, and I was a tramp and a poacher--I won't deny it--in the +olden days; and before that--well, before that, I was a gamekeeper on a +big estate--turned away in disgrace, my dear, because my master's +daughter fell in love with me. You never heard that before, did +you?--though any one would guess that you didn't come of a common stock! +Wetheral was her name--Cynthia Wetheral of Bingley Park, in +Gloucestershire. There are relatives of hers living there still; but +they don't acknowledge us--they won't have anything to do with you, +Cynthia, my girl. I married her and took her away wi' me; and for twelve +blessed months we were as happy as the day was long; and then she died." +He paused a little, and caressed Cynthia's head with his hand. + +"You're like her, my dear. But I'm only a low common sort o' man that +sunk lower and lower since the day she died; and you've no call to trust +me unless you feel inclined--no call in the very least. If you say you +don't quite believe my word, my pretty, I'll not cut up rough--I'll just +go away quiet, and never trouble you any more." + +"Father," said Cynthia, "listen to me one moment. We were separated when +I was only eleven years old; but don't you think that in eleven years I +could learn something of your real disposition--your true nature? I +remember how you used to care for me, how tender and kind you were to +me, although you might perhaps seem gloomy and morose to all the world +beside. I remember your bringing home a dog with a broken leg, and +nursing it till it was cured. You had pets of all kinds--birds, beasts, +flowers. You never did a cruel thing in your life; and how could I think +then, that you would lie in wait to kill a man out of mere spite and +revenge--a man, too, with a wife and a child--a little girl like me? I +knew you better, father, all the time!" + +Westwood shook his head doubtfully. + +"Maybe you're right," he said, "and maybe wrong. I've seen rough deeds +done in my day, and never lifted a hand to interfere. I won't deny but +what I did lie in wait for Mr. Vane that very afternoon--but with no +thought of murder in my mind. I meant to tell him what my opinion was of +him and of his doings; for there was carryings-on that I didn't approve +of, and it's my belief that in those very carryings-on lies the key of +the mystery. I've thought it all out in prison, slow-like--at nights +when I lay in bed, and days when I was hewing stone. I won't tell you +the story, my pretty; it ain't fit for the likes of you. But there was a +woman mixed up in it; and, if there was any man who had rights over the +woman--sweetheart or husband, brother or father, or such-like--it's in +that quarter that you and me should look for the real murderer of Sydney +Vane." + +"Can't we do anything, father? Won't you tell me the whole story?" + +"Not now, my girl; I must be going." + +"Where are you going, father? Will you be in a safe place?" + +"Quite safe, my dear--quite safe! Nobody would know me in this guise, +would they? I'm at No. 119 Isabella Street, Camden Town--quite a little +out-o'-the-way place--just the sort to suit a quiet respectable-looking +man like me." He gave vent to a grim little chuckle as he went on. "They +don't know who they've got hold of, do they? Maybe they wouldn't be +quite so pleased if they did." + +"May I come and see you there, father?" + +"Well, my girl, I think not. Such a--a splendid-looking sort of a party +as you've turned out coming to visit me would make people talk. And we +don't want people to talk, do we? Isn't there any quiet spot where you +and me could meet and walk about a bit? Kensington Gardens; maybe, or +Regent's Park?" + +Cynthia thought that Kensington Gardens would be quiet enough in the +morning for their purpose, and it was agreed that they should meet there +the next day at noon. Westwood's disguise was so perfect that he did not +attempt to seclude himself during the day. + +"And then," he said, "we can talk about you coming over to Ameriky, and +living happy and quiet somewhere with me." + +"Oh, I can't leave England!" said Cynthia, with a sudden little gasp. +"Don't ask me, father; I can't possibly go away." + +He looked at her keenly and scrutinisingly for a moment, and then he +said-- + +"That means that you've got a reason for wanting to stop in England. +That means that you've got a sweetheart--a lover, my pretty--and that +you won't leave him. I know the ways of women well enough. I don't want +to force you, my girl; but I hope that he's worthy of the woman you've +grown to be. Tell me his name." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Cynthia's father did not get his question answered, because at that +moment a thundering knock at the front-door announced the return of +Madame, and there was rather a hasty struggle to get him away from the +house without encountering that lady's sharp eyes and vivacious +questioning, which Cynthia was not at all sure that he could meet with +equanimity. For herself she felt at that moment equal to any struggle +involving either cunning or courage. She could combat to death for one +she loved. + +"Who was that man, _carissima_? Why was he here at this hour of the +night? You are a little imprudent, are you not, to receive such visitors +without me?" said Madame, having caught a glimpse of the intruder's +retiring figure. + +Cynthia laughed. + +"He is venerable, Madame--white-bearded, old, and a relative--an uncle +from America whom I have not seen since I was a child. I believe that he +has made a fortune and wants to endow me with it. We shall see!" + +"Ah, my angel, if he would do that," cried Madame cheerfully, "we would +welcome him at any hour of the day or night, would not we? Bid him to +dinner with thee, little one, or to tea, after thy English fashion--as +thou wilt. The uncle with money is always a desired visitor." + +And thus Cynthia escaped further questioning, although at the cost of an +untruth which she did not consider it her duty to repent. "For surely," +she said to herself, "it is right for a daughter to sacrifice anything +and everything to her father's safety! I was ashamed of having to tell +Hubert what was not true just for my own benefit; but I am not ashamed +of deceiving Madame for my father's sake. I am sorry--ah, yes, I am +sorry! But what can I do?" And in the solitude of her own room Cynthia +wrung her hands together, and shed a few bitter tears over the hardness +and strangeness of her fate. + +To one who knew all the facts of her story and her father's story, it +might indeed have been a matter for meditation that "wrong-doing never +ends"--that, because Sydney Vane had been an unprincipled man and +Florence Lepel a woman without a conscience, therefore a child of whom +they never heard had grown up without the presence of a father's love, +or the innate reverence for truth that prevailed in the heart of a +Jeanie Deans. Cynthia was no Jeanie Deans; she was a faulty but +noble-hearted woman, with a nature that had suffered some slight warping +from the effect of adverse circumstance. + +Cynthia and her father met the next morning under the spreading branches +of the trees in Kensington Gardens; and there, as they walked up and +down together, Westwood unfolded his plans. From what he let +slip--although he tried not to be too definite--it was evident that he +had made considerable sums of money, or what he thought such; and he +wanted Cynthia to give up working, and "go West" with him. He assured +her that she should have every comfort, every luxury; that he was likely +to make more and more money as time went on, and that he might even +become a millionaire. Would she not partake of the magnificence that was +in store for her? But Cynthia shook her head. And then he spoke of his +loneliness, of his long absence from his only child, and his desire to +have a home of his own; now that he began to feel the infirmities of +age, he not only wanted a daughter as an ornament to his house, but as +the prop of his declining years. And at this Cynthia shed tears and +began to waver. Ought she not to go with her father? she asked herself. +It might be better for Hubert, as well as for her, if she went away; +and, even if at the end of two years she became Hubert's wife, she would +at any rate have had two years with her father. And, if Hubert married +"the other girl," she would stay with her father until his life's +end--or hers. But the fact remained at the end of all arguments--she did +not want to go. + +"What do you want to stay in England for?" Westwood said at length. "Is +it to make money? I've got enough for both of us. Is it to sing in +public? You'll get bigger audiences over there, my girl. If you love +your old father as you say you do, why won't you come along with him?" +He paused, and added, almost in a whisper, "Unless there's somebody you +like better, I don't see why you want to stay." + +Cynthia's face turned crimson immediately. Her father's words made her +feel very guilty. She loved him--true; but she loved Hubert better, and +she had not known it until that moment. She knew it thoroughly now. + +"Well," said Westwood, in a peculiarly dogged tone, "I see what's up. +Who is he?" + +"He is a very clever man, father," said Cynthia, keeping her hot face +away from him as much as possible--"a literary man; he writes plays and +novels and poetry. He is thought a great deal of in London." + +"As poor as a rat, and wants you to keep him. Is that it?" + +"Oh, no, indeed, father! He makes a great deal of money. It was he who +sent me to Italy to study music; he paid for me to live where I do, with +Madame della Scala." + +They were in a quiet part of the Gardens, and her father suddenly laid +an iron grip upon her wrist. + +"Look at me," he burst out--"tell me the truth! You--you ain't--you +ain't bound to him in any way?" He dare not, after all, put his sudden +suspicion into plainer words. "It's all fair and square? He's asked you +to be his wife, and not----" + +Cynthia wrenched away her arm. + +"I did not think that my own father would insult me!" she said, in a +voice which, though low, vibrated with anger. "I am quite well able to +take care of my own honor and dignity; and Mr. Lepel would never dream +of assailing either." + +Then she broke down a little, and a few tears made their way over the +scarlet of her cheeks; but of these signs of distress her father took no +notice. He stood still in the middle of the path down which they had +been walking, and repeated the name incredulously. + +"'Lepel'! 'Lepel'! Is that your sweetheart's name?" + +"'Hubert Lepel.' It is a well-known name," said Cynthia, with head +erect. + +"Hubert Lepel! Not the man at Beechfield, the cousin of those Vanes?" He +spoke in a whisper, with his eyes fixed on his daughter's face. + +Cynthia turned very pale. + +"I do not know. Oh, it can't be the same," she said. + +"It's not likely that there are two men of the same name. He was a +cousin of the man who was killed, I tell you; and he was the +brother--the brother----" Suddenly Westwood stopped short; his eyes fell +to the ground, his breathing quickened; he thrust his hands into his +pockets and frowned heavily as he reflected. "Have I got a clue?" he +said, more to himself than to Cynthia. "He's the brother of that +woman--the woman that Sydney Vane used to meet in the wood so often, and +thought that nobody knew. Did he--did he----" But, raising his eyes +suddenly, he saw the whiteness of Cynthia's face, and did not finish his +question. "Listen to me!" he said, with sudden sternness. "This man +belongs to them that put me in prison and believe me to have murdered +Sydney Vane. Do you understand that, girl?" + +"Father, he would trust you--he would believe in you--if once he saw you +and talked to you." + +"So you mean to betray me to him, do you?" + +"Father--dear father!" + +"If you say a word to him about my being in England, Cynthia, you may +just as well put a rope round my neck or give me a dose of poison. For +buried alive at Portland I never will be again!" + +"He would no more betray you, father, than----" + +"Promise me that you'll not breathe a word to him about me!" + +"I promise." + +"And swear?" + +"I swear, father--not until you give me leave." + +"I shall never give you leave. Do you want to kill me, Cynthia? I'd +never have thought it of you after all you said! Come, my girl, you +needn't cry; I did not mean to suspect you; but I'm so used to being on +my guard. Does he know whose daughter you are?" + +"No, father." + +"You haven't dared to tell him, and yet you wanted to put my safety in +his hands!" + +"I am sure he is too kind, too noble, to think of betraying any one!" +Cynthia pleaded; but her father would not hear. + +"Tut! If he thinks I murdered his cousin, he wouldn't feel any +particular call to be kind to me, I guess. I should like to understand +all about this affair, Cynthia. Come, sit down on this bench here under +the trees, and tell me about it. Don't vex yourself over what I said; I +was but carried away by the heat of the moment. Now are you promised to +this Mr. Lepel--engaged to him, as you young folk call it?" + +"I don't know whether I can tell you anything, father," murmured +Cynthia. + +"You'd better," said Westwood quietly, "because it hangs on a thread +whether I ain't going to denounce Mr. Lepel as the man that killed Mr. +Sydney Vane. I never thought of him before, although I did see him at +the trial and knew that he'd been hanging round the place. He was her +brother, sure enough--he had a motive. Well, Cynthia?" + +"Father, if you are thinking such terrible things of Hubert, how can I +tell you anything? You know I--I love him; if you accuse him of a crime, +I shall cling to him still--and love him still--and save him if I can." + +"At your father's expense, girl?" + +She writhed at the question, and twisted her fingers nervously together, +but did not speak. Westwood waited for a minute or two, and then +resumed--this time very bitterly. + +"It's always so! The lover always drives the parent out of the young +folks' hearts. For this man--that you haven't known more than a few +months, I suppose--you'd give up your father to worse than the +gallows--to the misery of a life sentence--and be glad, maybe, to see +the last of him! If it was him or me, you would save him--and perhaps +you're in the right of it. I wish," said the man, turning away his +face--"I wish to God that I'd never come back to England, nor seen the +face of my girl again!" + +Cynthia had been physically incapable hitherto of stemming the flow of +his words; but now, although she was trembling with excitement and +sorrow and indignation, she answered her father's accusation resolutely. + +"You are wrong, father. I will not sacrifice you to him. But you must +not expect me to sacrifice him to you either. My heart is large enough +to hold you both." + +There was a pathos in the tone of her last few words which impressed +even Westwood's not very plastic nature. He turned towards her, noting +with half-unconscious anxiety the whiteness of the girl's lips, the +shadow that seemed to have descended upon her eyes. He put out his rough +hand and touched her daintily gloved fingers. + +"Don't be put out by what I say, my girl! If I speak sharp, it's because +I feel deep. I won't be hard on any one you care for, I give you my +word; but it'll be the best thing for you to be fair and square with me +and tell me all about him. Are you going to marry him?" + +"He wishes to marry me," said Cynthia, yielding, with a sigh; "but there +has been an arrangement--a sort of family arrangement, I understand--by +which he must--ought to marry a young lady in two years, when she is +twenty or twenty-one, if she consents and if she is strong enough. She +is ill now, and she does not seem to care for him. That is all I know. I +have promised to marry him if he is free at the end of the two years." + +It sounded a lame story--worse, when she told it, than when she had +discussed it with Hubert Lepel or wept over it in her own room. Westwood +uttered a growl of anger. + +"And you're at his beck and call like that! He is to take you or leave +you as he pleases! Pretty state of matters for a girl like you! Why, +with your face and your pretty voice and your education, I should think +that you could have half Lunnon if you chose!" + +"Not I," said Cynthia, laughing with a little of her old spirit--"or, if +I had, it would be the wrong half, father. Besides, Mr. Lepel is not to +blame. He--he would marry me to-morrow, I believe, if I would allow it; +it was I that arranged to wait. I would rather wait. Why should I marry +anybody before I have seen the world?" + +"Where does Mr. Lepel live, Cynthy?" said Westwood slowly, as if he had +not been attending very much to what she said. + +Cynthia hesitated; then she gave him Hubert's address. She knew that her +father could easily get it elsewhere, and that it would only irritate +him if she refused. Besides, she had too much confidence in her lover to +think that harm could come of her father's knowledge of the place in +which he lived. But she was a little surprised when her father at once +stood, up and said, with his former placidity of tone-- + +"Well, then, my dear, I'm a-going round to look at Mr. Lepel. I'm not +going to harm him, nor even maybe to speak to him; but I want to have a +little look at him before I see you again. And then I shall maybe go out +of town for a bit. There are one or two places I want to look at again. +So you needn't be surprised if you don't hear from me again just yet a +while. I'll write when I come back." + +"Oh, father, you will not run into any danger, will you?" + +"Not a bit, my dear. There's not a soul on earth would know me as I am +now. Don't you be afraid! I'll walk back with you to the gate, and, then +we'd better say good-bye. If you want anything special, write to +me--Reuben Dare, you know--at the address I gave you; but even then, my +girl, don't you mention names. It's a dangerous thing to do on paper." + +"I'll remember," said Cynthia, with unwonted submissiveness. + +They parted at the gate, and Westwood, without looking round, went some +paces in the easterly direction which he had chosen to take. But all at +once he heard a light footstep behind him, and a small gloved hand was +laid upon his arm. It was Cynthia, slightly flushed and panting a +little, her eyes unusually bright. She ran after him with a last word to +say. + +"Father," she said, "you will remember, will you not, that, although I +love him, I love you too?" + +"Do you, Cynthia?" said the man, rather sadly. "Well, maybe--maybe." + +"And that you are to take care of yourself for my sake?" + +"Eh? For your sake? Yes, my dear--yes." + +"Good-bye, dear father!" + +He nodded simply in reply; but, as he pursued his way eastward, his +heart grew softer towards his child's lover than it would otherwise have +been. How beautiful she had looked with those flushed cheeks and shining +eyes! What was he that he should interfere with her happiness? If the +man that she loved was good and true why should he not marry her, +although he was a kinsman of the Vanes and the brother of a woman whom +Westwood held in peculiar abhorrence? For accident had revealed to him +many years before the relation between Sydney Vane and Florence Lepel, +and she had seemed to him then and ever since to be less of a woman than +a fiend. Yet, being somewhat slow in drawing conclusions, he had never +associated her or her brother with Mr. Vane's death, until, in the +solitude of his cell, he had laboriously "put two and two together" in a +way which had not suggested itself either to himself or to his defenders +at the time of the trial. He himself, from a strange mixture of delicate +feeling and gruff reserve, had not chosen to tell what he knew about +Miss Lepel and Sydney Vane; and only when it was too late did it occur +to him that his silence had cost him his freedom, and might have cost +him his life. He saw it all clearly now. It was quite plain to him that +in some way or other Mr. Vane's death had been caused through his +unfaithfulness to his wife. Some one had wished to punish him--some +friend of hers, some friend of Miss Lepel's. Right enough he deserved to +be killed, said Westwood to himself, as he elaborated his theory. If +only the slayer, the avenger, had not refused to take the responsibility +of his act upon his own shoulders! "If only he hadn't been cur enough;" +Westwood muttered to himself, as he went along the London streets, "to +leave me--a poor man, a common man, that only Cynthia loved--to bear the +blame!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +When Hubert Lepel quitted Beechfield, a sudden calm, almost a stagnation +of interest, seemed to fall upon the place. Mrs. Vane was said to be +"less strong" than usual; the spring weather tried her; she must be kept +quiet, the doctor said, and, if possible, tranquil in mind. + +"God bless my soul, isn't she tranquil in mind?" the General had almost +shouted, when Mr. Ingledew gave this opinion. "What else can she be? She +hasn't a single thing to worry her; or, if she has, she has only to +mention it and it will be set right at once." + +The village doctor smiled amiably. He was a pale, thin, dark little man, +with insight rather in advance of his actual knowledge. He would have +been puzzled to say why he had jumped to the conclusion that Mrs. Vane's +mind was not quite tranquil; but he was sure that it was not. Possibly, +he was influenced by the conviction that it ought not to be tranquil; +for, in the course of his visits among the villagers, he had heard some +of the ugly rumors about Flossy's past, which were more prevalent than +Mrs. Vane herself suspected and than the General ever had it in his +power to conceive. + +"Well, sir," he said--for Mr. Ingledew was always very deferential to +the Squire of the parish--"what I meant was more perhaps that Mrs. Vane +requires perfect freedom from all anxiety for the future than that she +is suffering from uneasiness of mind at present. Possibly Mrs. Vane is a +little anxious from time to time about Master Dick, who is not of a +particularly robust constitution, or perhaps about Miss Vane, who does +not strike me as looking exactly what I should call 'the thing.'" + +"No--does she, Ingledew?" said the General, diverted at once from the +consideration of his wife's health to that of his niece. "She's pale and +peaky, is she not? Have you seen her to-day?" + +"H'm--not professionally," replied Mr. Ingledew, rubbing his chin. "In +point of fact, Mrs. Vane intimated to me that Miss Vane refused to see +me--to see a doctor at all. I am sorry, for Miss Vane's own sake, as I +think that she is not looking well at present--not at all well." + +"There she goes!" cried the General. "We'll have her in, and hear what +all this is about. Enid, Enid--come here!" + +He had seen her in the conservatory, which ran along one side of the +house. He and Mr. Ingledew were sitting in the library, and through its +half-open glass door he had caught sight of the girl's white gown +amongst the flowers. She turned instantly at his call. + +"Did you want me, uncle?" + +"Yes, dear. You are not looking well, Enid; we are concerned about you," +said the General, going up to her and taking her by the hand. "Why do +you refuse to see a doctor, my dear child?" + +"But I have not refused, uncle." + +"Oh--er--Mr. Ingledew----" + +"I understood from Mrs. Vane," said the doctor, "that you did not wish +for medical advice, Miss Vane." + +Enid colored a little, and was silent for a moment; then she answered, +in her usual gentle way-- + +"I had some disinclination a few days ago to consult a doctor, and +perhaps Mrs. Vane has accidentally laid more stress upon my saying so +than I intended. But I am quite willing--now--to consult Mr. Ingledew a +little." + +She sank into a chair as if she were very tired, and for a moment closed +her eyes. Her face was almost colorless, and there were violet tints on +her eyelids and her lips. Mr. Ingledew looked at her gravely and knit +his brows. He knew well that her explanation of Mrs. Vane's words was +quite insufficient. Mrs. Vane had sweetly and solemnly assured him that +she had begged "dear Enid" to see a doctor--Mr. Ingledew or another--and +that she had firmly refused to do so, saying that she felt quite well. +Enid's words did not tally with Mrs. Vane's report at all. The doctor +knew which of the two women he would rather believe. + +The General walked away, leaving the patient and the medical man +together. At the close of the interview, which did not last more than a +few minutes, Enid rose with a weary little smile and left the room. The +General came back to Ingledew. + +"Well, Ingledew?"--Mr. Ingledew looked grave. + +"I should not say that there was anything very serious," he said; "but +Miss Vane certainly requires care. She suffers from palpitation of the +heart and faintness; her pulse is intermittent; she complains of nausea +and dizziness. Without stethoscopic examination I cannot of course be +sure whether there is anything organically wrong; but I should +conclude--judging as well as I can without the aid of auscultation--that +there was some disturbance--functional disturbance--of the heart." + +"Heart! Dear, dear--that's very serious, is it not?" + +"Oh, not necessarily so! It may be a mere passing derangement produced +by indigestion," said the doctor prosaically. "I will come in again +to-morrow and sound her. I hope it is nothing more than a temporary +indisposition." And so Mr. Ingledew took his leave. + +"Mrs. Vane didn't want me to see her!" he said, as he left the house. "I +wonder why?" + +Meanwhile Enid, passing out into the hall, had been obliged to stand +still once or twice by reason of the dizziness that threatened to +overcome her. She leaned against the wall until the feeling had gone +off, and then dragged herself slowly up the stairs. She had suffered in +this way only for the last week or two--since Hubert went away. At first +she had thought that the warm spring weather was making her feel weak +and ill; but she did not remember that it had ever done so before. She +had generally revived with the spring, and been stronger and better in +the warmth and sunshine of summer. She could not understand why this +spring should make her feel so ill. She went into her own room and lay +down flat on the bed. She had the sensation of wishing to sink deeper +and deeper down, as if she could not sink too low. Her heart seemed to +beat more and more slowly; each breath that she drew was an effort to +her. She wondered a little if she was going to die. + +Presently she heard somebody enter the room. She was not strong enough +to turn her head; but she opened her eyes and saw her maid Parker +standing beside her bed and regarding her with alarm. + +"Law, miss, you do look bad!" she said. + +Enid's white lips moved and tears trembled on her eyelashes; but she did +not speak. Parker, seriously alarmed, hastened to procure +smelling-salts, brandy, and eau-de-Cologne, and, with a few minutes' +care, these applications produced the desired result. Enid looked a +little less death-like; she smiled as she took a dose of brandy and +sal-volatile, and moved her fingers towards the woman at her side. +Parker did not at first know what she wanted, but discovered at last +that the girl wanted to hold her hand. Contact with something human +seemed to help to bring her back from the shadowy borderland where she +had been wandering. Parker, astonished and confused, wanted to draw away +her hand; but the small cold fingers closed over it resistlessly. Then +the woman stood motionless, holding a vinaigrette in her free hand, and +looking at the pale face on the pillow, at the pathetic blue eyes which +sought her own from time to time as if in want of pity. Something made +Parker's heart beat fast and the hot tears came into her hard, dark +eyes. She had never felt any particular fondness for Miss Enid before; +but somehow that mute appeal, that silent claiming of sympathy and help, +made the woman who had spent the last few weeks in dogging her footsteps +and spying out her secrets bitterly regret the bondage in which her past +life had placed her. + +"Do you feel better now, miss?" she asked, in an unusually soft tone, +presently. + +"Yes, thank you, Parker; but don't go just yet." + +Parker stood immovable. Secretly she began to long to get away. She was +afraid that she should cry if she stayed there much longer holding +Enid's soft little white hand in hers. + +"Parker," said Enid presently, "were you in your room last night soon +after I went to bed?" The maid slept in the next room to that of her +young mistress. + +"Yes, miss--at least, I don't know what time it was." + +"It was between nine and ten o'clock when I went to bed. Did you see +anybody--any one all in white--come into my room after I was in bed? If +your door was open, you might have seen any one pass." + +"Good gracious, miss, one would think that you was speaking of a ghost! +No, I didn't see anybody pass." + +"I thought, perhaps," said Enid rather faintly, "that it might be Mrs. +Vane coming to see how I was, you know. She has a loose white wrapper, +and she often throws a white lace shawl over her head when she goes down +the passages." + +"You must have been dreaming, miss," said Parker. She found it easier to +withdraw her hand now that the conversation had taken this turn. + +"I suppose I must," said Enid, in a scarcely audible tone. Then she +turned away her face and said, "You can go now, Parker; I feel better. I +think that I shall go to sleep." + +But she did not sleep even when Parker had departed. She lay thinking, +with the tears gathering and falling one by one, until they made a great +wet spot on the pillow beneath her head. The shadow that hung over her +young life was growing very dark. + +Parker had hurried into her own room, where she first shut and locked +the door, as if afraid to think even while it was open, and then wrung +her hands in a sort of agony. + +"To think of it--to think of it!" she said, bursting into sudden sobs. +"And Miss Enid so sweet and innocent and gentle! What has she done? What +has she got to be put out of the way for? Just for the sake of the +money, I suppose, that it may all go to that wretched little Master +Dick! Oh, she's a wicked woman--a wicked woman; and I'd give my life +never to have set eyes upon her, for she'll be the ruin of me body and +soul!" + +But "she" in this case did not mean Enid Vane. + +Parker was aroused from her meditations by the sharp tinkle of a bell, +which she knew that Mrs. Vane must have rung. She started when she heard +it, and a look of disgust crossed her face; but, as she hesitated, the +bell rang again, more imperiously than ever. Parker dashed the tears +from her eyes, and sped down the long corridor to Mrs. Vane's +dressing-room. Her hands were trembling still. + +"Why do you keep me in this way when I ring for you, Parker?" said Mrs. +Vane, in her coldest tone. "I rang twice." + +"Miss Vane wanted me, ma'am. I have been with her." + +There was an odd tremor in the woman's voice. Mrs. Vane surveyed her +critically. + +"You look very strange, Parker. What is the matter with you? Are you +ill?" + +"No, ma'am; but Miss Vane is." + +Flossy grew a shade paler and looked up. She was still in her +dressing-gown--white, edged everywhere with costly lace--and her fair +hair was hanging loose over her shoulders. + +"Ill? What is the matter with her?" + +"I--I thought perhaps you would know, ma'am," said Parker desperately. +Then, afraid of what she had said, she turned to a drawer, pulled it +open, and began ransacking it diligently. From the momentary silence in +the room she felt as if her shaft had gone home; but she dared not look +round to see. + +"What on earth do you mean, Parker?" said Mrs. Vane, after that one dead +pause, which said so much to her maid's suspicious ears; the chill +disdain in her voice was inimitable. "How can I tell you what is the +matter with Miss Vane when I have not seen her since dinner-time +yesterday? She was well enough then--at least, as well as she has been +since this trying weather began." + +"Didn't you see her last night, ma'am, when you went to her room about +eleven o'clock?" said Parker, trying to assume a bolder tone, but +failing to hide her nervousness. + +Again a short but unmistakable pause. + +"No, I did not," said Mrs. Vane drily. "I listened at the door to see if +she was asleep, but I did not go in." + +"She seems to have been dreaming that you did, ma'am." + +"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Vane, a little hurriedly. "You should not +attend to all her fancies, Parker. You know that she has very odd +fancies indeed sometimes. The shock of her father's death when she was a +child had a very injurious effect upon her nerves, and I should never be +surprised at anything that she chose to do or say. Pray don't get into +the way of repeating her words, or of imagining that they must +necessarily be true!" + +"No, ma'am," said Parker submissively. + +Evidently there was nothing more for her to say. Well, perhaps she had +put her mistress on her guard. + +"Oh, by-the-bye, Parker! There are two dresses of mine in the +wardrobe--the brown one and the silk--that you can do what you like +with. And I was thinking of sending a little present to your mother. You +may take this purse--there are seven pounds in it; send it to her from +me, if you like, as a little acknowledgment of your faithful service. +And, if--if there is anything else that I can do for her, you need only +mention it." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Parker, but without enthusiasm. "I don't know +as there's anything that she wants at present." + +"Take the purse," said Flossy impatiently; "and then go away and come +back when I ring. I won't have my hair brushed just now. Is Miss Vane +better?" + +"Yes, ma'am--she's better now." And Parker went away, knowing very well +that she had been bribed to hold her tongue. + +But after that interview she noticed that Enid seemed to recover tone +and strength, that for a few succeeding days she was more like herself +than she had been of late, and that the symptoms of faintness and +palpitation which she had mentioned to Mr. Ingledew disappeared. Parker +nodded mysteriously as she remarked on these facts to herself, and +thought that for once her interference had had a good effect. + +She had lately found less to report concerning Miss Vane's movements +than before Mr. Lepel's visit; for Enid's ministrations amongst the poor +had been almost entirely brought to a close, on the ground that close +cottages and the sight of suffering must necessarily be bad for her +health. Accordingly she had gone less and less to the village, and had +seen almost nothing of Mr. Evandale. Parker, being thus less often "on +duty," found more time than usual for her own various scraps of +business, and took occasion one evening to run out to the post-office +when all the family were at dinner; and while at the post-office she +noticed a stranger in the village street--a highly respectable, +venerable-looking old man with picturesque white hair and beard. + +"That's Mr. Dare, who's a-stayin' at the inn," said the postmistress to +Parker, who was a person of considerable importance in village eyes. +"Such a nice old gentleman! He comes from America, where they say he's +made a fortune, and he's very liberal with his money." + +So good a character interested Parker at once in Mr. Dare. She felt +quite flattered when, in passing down the lane, she was accosted by the +gentleman in question, who pulled off his hat to her politely, and asked +her whether she could tell him if Mr. Lepel was likely to visit +Beechfield Hall in the course of a week or two. + +"Let me see," said Parker. "Why, yes, sir--I heard yesterday that he was +coming down next Saturday, just for a day or two, you know." + +"I used to know a Mr. Lepel once," said the stranger, "and he did me a +kindness. If this is the same, I'd like to thank him before I go. I +heard him mentioned up at the 'Crown' yonder and wondered whether I +could find out." + +"I dare say it's the same--he's always a very kind gentleman," quoth +Parker, remembering the half-crowns that Hubert had many a time bestowed +on her. + +"Fair, isn't he?" said Mr. Dare. "That was my Mr. Lepel--fair and short +and stout and a nice little wife and family----" + +"Oh, dear, no--that isn't our Mr. Lepel!" said Parker, with disdain. +"He's tall and very dark and thin; and, as to being married, he's +engaged to Miss Vane of Beechfield Hall, or as good as engaged, I know; +and they're to be married when she's out of her teens, because the +General, her uncle, won't consent to it before." + +"Ah," said the stranger, "you're right; that's not the gentleman I know. +Engaged, is he? And very fond of the young lady, I suppose?" + +"Worships the very ground she treads upon!" said Parker. She would have +thought it _infra dig._ to allow for one moment that Miss Enid did not +meet with her deserts in the way of adoration. "He's always coming down +here to see her. And she the same! I don't think they could be happy +apart. He's just devoted!" + +"And that," said Reuben Dare to himself, "is the man who makes my girl +believe that he is fond of her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Hubert was sadly puzzled by Cynthia's manner to him at this time. She +seemed to have lost her bright spirits; she was grave and even +depressed; now and then she manifested a sort of coldness which he felt +that he did not understand. Was this the effect of his confession to her +that he had pledged his faith before he lost his heart? She had shown no +such coldness when he told her first; but perhaps reflection had changed +her tone. He began by trying to treat her ceremoniously in return; but +he found it a difficult task. He had never been on very ceremonious +terms at all with her, and to begin them now, when she had acknowledged +that she loved him and he had kissed her ripe red lips--he said to +himself that it was absurd. + +He did not cease his visits to Madame della Scala's house, nor try to +set up an artificial barrier between himself and his love. Why then +should she? He would not have this coldness, this conventionality of +demeanor, he told himself; and yet he hardly knew how to beat it down. +For he certainly had no right to demand that she should treat him as her +lover when he was engaged--or half engaged--to marry Enid Vane. + +He came one evening in May, and found her on the point of starting for a +_soiree_ where she was to sing. She was _en grande tenue_ for the +occasion, dressed, after an old Venetian picture, in dull red brocade, +point-lace, and gold ornaments. He had given her the ornaments +himself--golden serpents with ruby eyes--which she had admired in a +jeweller's window. But for the rest of her dress she was in no wise +indebted to him; she had been making money lately, and could afford +herself a pretty gown. + +She received him, he thought, a little coolly--perhaps only because +Madame della Scala was sitting by--gave him the tips of her fingers, and +declared that she must go almost immediately. It turned out that he was +bound for the same place; and Madame at once asked him to escort them +thither--the carriage would be at the door at half-past nine o'clock. + +"I shall be only too happy," said Mr. Lepel, "if you will allow me such +an honor. And, in the meantime, it is not yet nine o'clock, Cynthia; so, +in spite of your impatience, you cannot start quite 'immediately.' What +is there so attractive at the Gores' this evening that you wish to set +off so early?" + +"Oh, nothing--I did not know the time!" said Cynthia. + +She did not reply jestingly, after her usual fashion; she sat down +languidly, and spread her heavy skirts around her so as to make a sort +of silken barrier between herself and Hubert. He bit his lip a little as +he looked at her. + +"Our little bird is not quite herself," said Madame, with a side grimace +at Hubert which she did not want Cynthia to see. "She has what our +neighbors call '_la migraine_,' monsieur. She has never been well since +the return of her old uncle from America, whose fortune--if he has a +fortune--does not seem likely to do any of us any good--her least of +all." + +Cynthia lowered her head a little and darted a sudden and fierce glance +at her teacher and chaperon--a glance of which Hubert guessed the +meaning. She had never mentioned this "uncle from America" to him; +probably she had told Madame not to do so either, and the little Italian +lady had broken her compact. + +Madame della Scala laughed and spread out her hands deprecatingly. + +"_Che, che_--what is it I have done to make you look so fierce at me? I +will leave her to you, Mr. Lepel, and trust you to make her tractable +before we reach the house where we are to sing. For the last few days I +have not known how to content _la signorina_ at all; she has twice +refused to sing when refusal meant--well, two things--loss of money and +offence of friends. Those are two things which I do not like at all." + +So saying, Madame, with a fan outstretched before her like a palm-leaf, +moved towards the door; but Cynthia intercepted her. + +"Madame, do not go!" she cried. "Indeed I am sorry! Do not make Mr. +Lepel think that I have been behaving so like a petted child. I will do +what you wish henceforward--I will indeed! Do not go, or I shall think +that you are angry with me!" + +"Angry with you, _carissima_? Not one bit!" said Madame, touching the +girl's hot cheek with the end of her dainty fan. "Not angry, only a +little--little tiny bit disappointed! But what of that? I forgive you! +Genius must have its moods, its freaks, its passions. But calm yourself +now, for Heaven's sake, or we shall be in bad voice to-night! I am just +going to my room to get my scent-bottle; I will return immediately;" and +Madame escaped. + +Hubert was delighted with the little lady's manoeuvre, designed, as he +knew, to leave him alone with Cynthia. As for Cynthia, she gave one +scared look round, as if she dreaded to meet his eyes, then dropped into +the nearest chair and placed one hand over her face. He thought that she +was crying. + +"Cynthia, my darling, what is all this?" he said approaching her. "My +dearest, you are not happy! What can I do?" + +"Nothing," she answered, dashing away a tear and letting her hand fall +into her lap--"nothing indeed!" + +"But you are not--as Madame says--quite like yourself." + +"I know; I am very cross and disagreeable," said Cynthia, with a +resolute assumption of gaiety. "I always had a bad temper; and it is +well perhaps that you should find it out." + +Without speaking, he bent his head to kiss her; but she drew back. + +"No!" she said, with decision. "No, Hubert--Mr. Lepel, I mean--that will +not do!" + +"What, Cynthia?" + +"We are not engaged. We are really nothing to each other; I was wrong to +forget that before." + +"This is surely a new view on the subject, Cynthia!" + +"Yes; it is the view I have taken ever since I thought it over. We will +be friends, if you like--I will always be your friend"--and there came +over her face an indescribable expression of yearning and passionate +regret--"but we must remember that I shall be nothing more." + +"Nothing more? Why, my darling, do you forget what you promised me--that +at the end of two years----" + +"If you were free--yes," she interrupted him. "But it was a foolish +promise. You know that you are not likely to be free. You--you knew that +when you told me that you loved me!" She set her teeth and gave him a +look of bitter reproach. + +"What does this mean?" said Hubert, flushing up to the roots of his +hair. "I told you everything the next morning, Cynthia; and I +acknowledged to you that I loved you only because I thought that I was +too miserable a wretch for you to cast a sigh upon. You have changed +since then--not I." + +Cynthia suddenly rose from her chair. + +"I hear the carriage," she said abruptly; "Madame is at the door. There +is no use in continuing this conversation." + +"No use at all," said Hubert, who by this time was not in the best of +tempers. "Perhaps you would rather that I did not accompany you +to-night, Miss West?" "Oh, pray come!" said Cynthia, with a heartless +little laugh. "Madame will never forgive me if I deprive her of a +cavalier! It does not matter to me." + +Hubert turned at once to Madame della Scala, and offered her his arm +with the courtesy of manner which she always averred she found in so few +Englishmen, but which he displayed to perfection. Cynthia followed, not +waiting for him to lead her to the carriage. He was about to hand her to +her seat, but she had so elaborately encumbered herself with gloves, +fan, bouquet, and sweeping silken train, that it seemed as if she could +not possibly disentangle her hands in time to receive his help. She took +her seat beside Madame with her usual smiling nonchalance, and the two +ladies waited for Mr. Lepel to take the opposite seat. He took off his +hat and made a sweeping bow. + +"Madame," he said, "I am unfeignedly sorry, but I find that +circumstances will not allow me to accompany you this evening. Will you +pardon me therefore if I decline the honor of the seat you have offered +me?" + +This stately mode of speech was intended to pacify Madame della Scala, +who liked to be addressed as if she were a princess; he knew that she +would be angry enough at his defection. Before she had recovered herself +so far as to speak, he fell back and signed to the coachman to drive on. +They had left him far behind before Madame ceased to vent her +exclamations of wrath, despair, and disappointment. + +"What can he mean by 'circumstances'?" This was the phrase that rose +most frequently to her tongue. "'Circumstances will not allow me'! But +that is nonsense--absolutely nonsense!" + +"I think by 'circumstances' he meant me," said Cynthia at last--by which +remark she diverted all Madame's wrath upon her own unlucky head. + +She did not seem to mind however. She looked brilliant that evening, and +she sang her best. There was a royal personage amongst her hearers, and +the royal personage begged to be presented to her, and complimented her +upon her singing. As Cynthia made her little curtsey and smiled her +bright little smile, she wondered what the royal personage would say if +he knew that she was "Westwood, the murderer's daughter." She had been +called so too often in her earliest years ever to forget the title. + +In spite of her waywardness that night, she was woman enough to wish +that Hubert had been there to witness her triumph. She had never +offended him before. She thought that perhaps he would come back, and +darted hasty glances at the throng of smart folk around her, longing to +see his dark face in some corner of the room. But she was disappointed; +he did not come. + +"Oh, Miss West," said her hostess to her, in the course of the evening, +"do come here one moment! I hope you won't be very much bored; you young +people always like other young people best, I know. But there is a lady +here--an old lady--who is very much impressed by your voice--your +charming voice--and wants to know you; and she is really worth knowing, +I assure you--gives delightful parties now and then." + +"I shall be most happy!" said Cynthia brightly. "I like old ladies very +much; they generally have something to say." + +"Which young men do not, do they? Oh, fie, you naughty girl! I saw you +with young Lord Frederick over there---- Dear Miss Vane, this is our +sweet songstress, Miss Cynthia West--Miss Vane. I have just been telling +her how much you admire her lovely singing;" and then the hostess +hurried away. + +Something like an electric shock seemed to pass through Cynthia's frame. +She did not show any trace of emotion, the smile did not waver on her +lips; but suddenly, as she bowed gracefully to the handsome, keen-eyed +old lady to whom she had just been introduced, she saw herself a ragged, +unkempt, savage little waif and stray, fresh from the workhouse, +standing on a summer day upon a dusty road, the centre of a little group +of persons whose faces came back to her one by one with painful +distinctness. There was the old lady--not so wrinkled as this old lady, +but still with the same clearly-cut features, the same sharp eyes, the +same inflexible mouth; there was the child with delicate limbs and +dainty movements, with sweet sympathetic eyes and lovely golden hair, +which Cynthia had passionately admired as she had never admired any +other hair and eyes in the world before; and there was a young man. His +face had hitherto been the one that she thought she remembered best; she +was suddenly aware that she had so idealised and glorified it that its +very features had become unreal, and that when she met it in the flesh +in later years it remained unrecognisable. Never once till now had it +been borne in upon her that this hero of her childish dreams and her +present lover were one and the same. It was a terrible shock to her--and +greater even then she knew. + +"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss West," said Miss Leonora +Vane, holding out her hand so cordially that Cynthia could not in common +politeness refuse to take it. "Your singing has delighted everybody--and +myself, I am sure I may say, not least. You have been some time in +Italy, I suppose? Do sit down here and tell me where you studied." + +Cynthia fancied that she heard the same voice telling her what a wicked +girl she was, and that she deserved to be whipped for running away from +the workhouse. She repressed a little shudder, and answered smilingly-- + +"You are very kind. Yes, I have studied in Italy." + +"Under Lamperti, I hear. Do you think of coming out in opera next +season? You may always count me among your audience." + +Cynthia remembered how this courteous gentlewoman had once put her hand +over her eyes and declared that the sight of Westwood's daughter made +her ill. The burning sense of injustice that had then taken possession +of the child's soul rose up as strong as ever in the woman. She wished, +in her bitterness, that she were free to rise from her seat and cry +aloud-- + +"Yes, look at me--listen to me--for I am Westwood's daughter! I am the +child of a felon and escaped convict, a man whom you call a +murderer--and I am proud of my name!" + +Curiously enough, Miss Vane touched closely upon this subject before +long. She was anxious to know whether Cynthia's name was her own or only +assumed for stage purposes, and managed to put her question in such a +way that it sounded less like impertinence than a manifestation of +kindly interest--which was very clever of Miss Vane. + +"No," said Cynthia coldly, "'West' is not my name exactly; but I prefer +to be known by it at present." + +She had never said as much before; and Miss Vane felt herself a little +bit snubbed, and decided that the new singer had not at all good +manners; but she meant to secure her for her next party nevertheless. +She rather prided herself upon her parties. + +To her utter surprise and bewilderment, Miss Cynthia West absolutely +declined to come. She gave no reason except that she thought that she +should before long give up singing in drawing-rooms at all; and she was +not to be moved by any consideration of payment. Miss Vane ventured to +intimate that she did not mind what she paid; but she was met by so +frigid a glance that she was really obliged, in self-defence, to be +silent. She carried away an unpleasant impression of Cynthia West, and +was heard to say afterwards that she could believe anything of that +young woman. + +Cynthia was, however, acknowledged to have made in every other way a +great success. Madame della Scala was delighted with her pupil, and +quite forgot all the little disagreeables of the evening; while Cynthia, +during their drive home, was as charming and as lively as she had ever +been. When the carriage stopped at the quiet little house in Kensington, +the weather had changed, and rain was falling rapidly. One of the +servants was in waiting with an umbrella, ready to give an arm to +Madame, who alighted first. Cynthia followed, scarcely noticing the man +who stepped forward to assist her, until something prompted her suddenly +to look at his face. Then she uttered an inarticulate exclamation. + +"Yes, it is I," said Hubert. "I have been waiting to help you out. I +don't know how I have offended you; but, whatever it is, forgive me, +Cynthia--I can't bear your displeasure!" + +"Nor I yours," she said, with a sob; and, under the umbrella that he was +holding, she actually held up her face to be kissed. + +Nobody saw the little ceremony of reconciliation. The next moment +Cynthia was in the hall, having her dress shaken out and let down by a +yawning maid's attentive hands, and the coachman had driven off, and the +hall door was shut, and Hubert Lepel was out in the street, with a wall +between him and his love. There were tears in Cynthia's eyes as she went +wearily, her gaiety all departed, up to her room. Nobody suspected that +the charming singer whose gaiety and audacity, as well as her beauty, +had won all hearts that evening passed half the night in weeping on the +hard floor--weeping over the fate that divided her from her lover. For +ever since the day that she had learned from her father that Hubert +Lepel was a cousin of the Vanes--more than ever now she knew that he was +the man who had befriended her in her childhood--she felt it to be +utterly impossible that she should marry him until he knew the truth; +and the truth--that she was Westwood's daughter--would, she felt sure, +part him from her for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Early in the sweet June morning--sweet and fair although it brooded over +London, the smokiest city in the world--Cynthia was again walking in +Kensington Gardens. She had not gone far before she met her father, with +whom she had made an appointment for that hour. + +"Well, Cynthia, my girl?" + +"I have come, you see, father." + +"I hardly thought you'd get here so soon after your party-going last +night," said her father. "You look pretty tired too. Well, my girl, I +told you I'd been staying down at Beechfield." + +"Yes; and I was terribly anxious about you all the time, father. It was +such a daring thing to do! Suppose any one had suspected you?" + +"Not much fear o' that!" said Westwood, a little scornfully. "Why, look +at me! Am I like the man I was at Beechfield ten years ago? I was a sort +of outcast then, having sunk from bad to worse through my despair when I +lost your mother, Cynthia; but, now that I have a new coat on my back +and money in my pocket, all through my luck in the States, not to speak +of this white hair, which I shall keep to until I'm back in the West +again, I'm a different man, and nobody ever thinks of suspecting me." + +He was different, Cynthia noticed, in more than one respect--he was far +less silent and morose than he used to be. Life in the West had brought +out some unexpected reserves of decision and readiness of speech, and +his success--his luck, as he sometimes called it--had cheered his +spirits. He was defiant and he was often bitter still; but he was no +longer downcast. + +"They'd not have much chance if they did suspect me," he said, after a +little pause; "if they thought that they'd got me again, they'd find +their mistake. I'd put a bullet through my head afore ever I went back +to Portland!" + +"Oh, father, don't speak so!" + +"Come, Cynthy, don't you pretend! You're a brave girl and a spirited +one. Now wouldn't you yourself sooner die than be cooped up in a gaol, +or set to work in a quarry with an armed warder watching you all day +long--wouldn't you put an end to it, I ask you--being a brave girl and +not a namby-pamby creature as hasn't got a will of her own, and don't +know better than to stay where she's put--eh, Cynthia?" + +"Don't speak quite so loud, father dear," said Cynthia--"there are +people turning round to look at us. I don't know what I should do in +those circumstances; perhaps, as you say, I should think it better to +end it all." She looked aside as she spoke, for her dark eyes had filled +with heavy tears. How she wished at that moment that she could "end it +all" as easily as she said the words! "Sit down for a little time, will +you, father?" she asked. "It is a warm morning, and I am rather tired." + +She had another reason for wishing to sit down. She had observed that +for some time a tall woman in black had been apparently regarding them +with interest, following them at a little distance, slackening and +quickening her pace in accordance with their own. The stranger was +thickly veiled; and, when she saw that Cynthia and her father were +walking towards a vacant seat, she turned in the same direction. There +was nothing to prevent her from sitting down on the same bench, and +either putting a stop to all private conversation or listening to what +they had to say; but Cynthia was equal to the emergency. She turned her +head and gave the woman a long look, half of inquiry, half of disdain, +which seemed to overawe the intruder, who stood by the bench for a +moment rather uncertainly. Then Cynthia touched her father's arm. + +"Do you know this person?" she asked in a low voice, but one so clear +that it must have reached the woman's ears. + +"Know her?" said Westwood, starting and looking suspiciously at the +black figure. "No, I don't know her, unless she's---- She's very much +like a person staying with my landlady just now--a Miss Meldreth. I +wonder---- Shall I speak to her, Cynthia?" + +But the woman had already moved from her standing position by the bench, +and was walking away as fast as she could conveniently go. She had fair +hair and a fine figure, but her face could not be seen. + +"It is very like," said Westwood, standing up and staring after her. +"She's been very friendly with me since I came; and I've had tea with +her and Mrs. Gunn more than once. Strange to relate; she comes from +Beechfield too. She's the daughter of old Mrs. Meldreth, who used to +keep the sweetie-shop; don't you remember her?" + +"Then she was watching you--following you! Oh, father, do be careful!" + +"What should she be watching me for?" said Westwood, but with rather a +troubled look upon his face. "I've never had aught to do with her." + +"Did you hear of her at all at Beechfield?" + +"There was a bit of gossip about her and her mother; they said that Mrs. +Vane at Beechfield Hall knew them and was kind to them. Some said that +she paid them; but nobody knew what for." + +"And she is lodging in the same house with you and following you about? +Then I'll tell you what she is, father--she is a spy of the Vanes. She +suspects you and wants to put you in prison again. Oh, father, do change +your lodgings, or go straight back to America! You have been in England +a month, and it is very dangerous. You have nothing to stay +for--nothing; and, if you like"--her voice sank almost to a whisper--"I +will go back with you." + +"Will you, Cynthy? There's my own good girl!" said her father, an +unwonted sense of pleasure beaming in his eyes. "You're one of the right +sort, you are, and you sha'n't regret it. But, as to danger, I don't see +it. There's nobody can recognise me, as you are well aware; and what +else have I to fear?" Cynthia had noted before that he was almost +childishly vain of his disguise. She herself was not disposed to rely +upon it with half so blind a confidence, for she knew how easily the +secrets of "making-up" can be read by an experienced eye. "Besides, Miss +Meldreth was lodging at Mrs. Gunn's before ever I went there--so that's +a pure coincidence. If she'd come after I went down to Beechfield, +there might be something in it. But it's an accidental thing." + +"It may be accidental, and yet a source of danger," said Cynthia +anxiously. "I wish you would go back to the States at once, father. I am +quite ready to go. There is nothing to keep me in England now." + +"Why, have you broken off with that young man?" said Westwood sharply. + +"Not altogether." The remembrance of the previous night's kiss under the +umbrella made Cynthia's cheeks burn red as she replied. "But since I +know what you have told me--that he is a relative of the Vanes of +Beechfield--I have determined that it cannot go on. He and his family +would hate me if they knew. I cannot forget the past; I cannot forget +what they did and said; and I do not see how I can marry a man who +unjustly believes that my father was his kinsman's murderer." The fire +came back to her eyes, the firmness to her voice, as she spoke. + +Westwood watched her admiringly. + +"Well spoke, my little girl--well spoke! I didn't think you had it in +you--I didn't indeed! Let him go his way, and let us go ourn. I didn't +tell you all that I might ha' done when I came back from Beechfield the +other day, because I didn't rightly know whether you was with me or +against me." + +"With you--always with you, dear father!" + +"And I was a little doubtful, so to speak, seeing as how you had taken +up, although by accident, with a fellow belonging to the camp of my +enemies. But now I'll tell you a little more. Has Mr. Lepel ever told +you that he had a sister?" + +"No." + +"Well, he has; and, what's more, she's married to the old General--you +remember him at Beechfield?" + +"Yes." + +"Maybe you remember her too--a very fair lady, as used to walk out with +the little girl--Mr. Sydney Vane's little girl?" + +Cynthia was silent for a moment. + +"Yes," she said, at length--"I think I remember her." + +"You've seen the child too?" + +"Yes"--Cynthia's eyes softened; "I am sure I remember her." + +"I'll tell you about her presently. I've got a notion in my head about +these Lepels. Miss Lepel, as was, and Mr. Sydney Vane was in love with +one another and about to run away from England when he was killed. I +know that for a fact, so you needn't look so scared. They was on the +point of an elopement when he died--I knew that all along; but, +stupid-like, I never thought of putting two and two together and +connecting it with his death. It just seemed a pity to throw shame and +blame on the dead, seeing as how there was his wife and child to bear +all the disgrace; and so I held my tongue." + +"But how did you know, father?" + +"By using my eyes and my ears," said Westwood briefly--"that's how I +knew. They used to meet in that little plantation often enough. I've +lain low in a dry ditch more than once when they were close by and heard +their goings-on. They were going off next day, when Mr. Vane met with +his deserts. And what I say is that somebody related to Miss Lepel found +out the truth and shot him like a dog." + +"Why did you not think of all this at the right time? Oh, father, it is +too late now!" + +"I'm not so sure of that. And, as for the gun--well, that often puzzled +me; for I hadn't fired it myself that afternoon, Cynthy, and yet it had +been fired--and that's what made part of the evidence against me. I'd +been out that afternoon, and, coming home, who should I see in the +distance but two or three gentlemen strolling along the road--Mr. Vane +and the General and one or two strangers? Quick as thought, I laid my +gun down and walked on as careless as you please. They met me--you know, +that was a bit of the General's evidence, I looked back when I'd passed +them, and I saw Mr. Sydney Vane separate himself from the other +gentlemen and walk into the plantation. I did not like to go back just +then; and so I waited. There was two or three ways of getting into the +fir plantation, so I don't know who came into it across the fields, as +anybody might have done either from the village or from the Hall. But +presently I heard the report of a gun--two reports, as far as I +remember; and then I saw Miss Lepel flying along the road--and I knew +that she'd been in the plantation, any way. So, after watching a little +while longer, I went back to the wood; and I found my gun pretty near +where I had left it--only it had been moved and fired. So I took it up +and walked away home." + +"Without stopping to see whether any one was hurt?" + +"Yes, my girl--and that was my mistake. If I'd gone on and found Mr. +Vane and given the alarm and all that, I dare say I should have got off. +But that was my misfortune, and also my hatred to Mr. Vane and his +wicked ways. I says to myself, 'This is no business of yours. Let them +settle it between themselves. I'll not interfere.' So I sort of hardened +my heart and went on my way." + +"Father, perhaps you might have saved a life!" + +"No," said Westwood calmly, "I couldn't have done that. He was shot +clean through the heart. And I'm not sure that I would if I could. He +was a bad man, and deserved his punishment. The only thing I can't +understand is why the man as did it hadn't the pluck to say what he had +done, instead of leaving a poor common man like me to bear the blame." + +"Did you not tell all this to the jury and the counsel?" + +"Yes, my dear, I did--every word. But who was there to believe me? It +didn't sound likely, you know. And who else was there, as the lawyers +said, that had reason to hate Mr. Vane? Why, if they'd known all I knew, +they would have seen that every honest man would have hated him! But, by +never telling what I knew previous about Miss Lepel, I didn't put 'em on +the right track, you see. I own that now." + +"Father, I see to whom your suspicions point--you said as much to me +before. But I feel sure that Mr. Hubert Lepel is incapable of such a +deed--not only of the murder--for which one could forgive him--but of +letting another bear the blame." + +"Well, perhaps so, Cynthy. I don't think you would ha' given your heart +to an out-an-out scoundrel--I don't indeed. And Mr. Lepel has a good +sort o' face. I've seen him, and I like him. He looks as if he'd had a +good bit o' trouble somehow; and I daresay it's likely, with a sister +like that on his hands. It's my belief, Cynthia, not that Mr. Lepel, but +his sister, Miss Florence Lepel, as she was then, did the deed and put +the blame on me. And I'm inclined to think as how Mr. Lepel knows it and +wouldn't tell." + +"A woman! Could a woman manage a heavy gun like that?" + +"If she was desperate, she could, my dear. It's wonderful what strength +a woman will have when she's in a temper. And maybe Mr. Vane failed her +at the last moment--wouldn't go with her away from England, or something +o' that kind--and she thought she would be revenged on him." + +The theory did credit to Reuben Westwood's imagination; but it was a +mistaken one. At present, however, it seemed sufficiently credible to +give Cynthia much cause for reflection. She did not speak. Westwood gave +his knee a sudden stroke with one hand, expressive of growing amazement, +as he also meditated on the matter. + +"And then for her to go and marry the old man--Sydney Vane's brother! It +beats all that I ever heard of! She must have got nerves of steel and +muscles of iron; she must be the boldest, hardest liar that ever trod +this earth. If I thought that all women was like her, Cynthia, I would +go to the devil at once! But I've known two good ones in my time, I +reckon--your mother and you--and that should p'r'aps be enough for any +man. Yes, she's married and got a child--a little lad that'll have the +estate and prevent the girl from coming to her own--at least, what would +have been her own if there had been no boy." + +"You mean Miss Enid Vane?" said Cynthia, again with a curious softening +of the eyes. + +"Yes, some outlandish name of that sort--'Enid,' is it? Well, you know +better than I. I'm glad you're breaking it off with that man Lepel, +Cynthia, for more reasons than one." + +Cynthia hardly noticed the significance of his tone or the conjunction +of the two names in his remarks. She had something else in her mind +which she was anxious to have said. + +"Father, I am to see Mr. Lepel this afternoon." + +"Yes, my girl?" + +"And I want to say good-bye to him for ever." + +Westwood nodded; he was well pleased with her decision. + +"And then I will go to America with you whenever you please. But one +thing I want you to allow me to do." + +"Well, Cynthy?" + +"I must tell Mr. Lepel who I am. I will not of course let him think that +I know anything of you now. He shall not know that you are alive. But I +must do as I please about telling him my own name." + +"Very well, Cynthia," said her father; "do as you like in that matter. I +can trust you with a good deal, and I trust you so far; but don't let +out that you know anything about me now--that I'm alive, and that you +have seen me, or anything of that sort." + +"No, father." + +"I see what you're after," said he, after a pause. "You think he'll give +you up more ready when he knows that you are my daughter--isn't that it? +You may say so open-like; it doesn't hurt me, you know. Of course I can +understand what he will feel. And what's always been hardest to me was +the feelin' that I had injured you so much, my dear--you, the only thing +left to me in the world to love." + +"You could not help it, father dear." + +"Well, I don't know. I might have done many things different--I see that +now. But there's one thing to be said--if you feel inclined to break off +with Mr. Lepel without telling him your name, I think it would be easy +enough to do it." + +"How? What do you mean?" + +"You think he's fond of you--don't you, my dear?" + +"I thought so, father." + +"He's tried to make you believe so for his own ends, no doubt. But he +means to marry the other girl, my dear--they told me so at Beechfield. +They say he worships the very ground she treads upon; and she the same +with him. Being fond of you was only a blind to lead you to your +destruction, I'm afraid, my poor pretty dear!" + +Cynthia shrank a little as she heard. Could this be true? + +"The girl lives down there then, does she?" she asked, in a strange hard +voice not like her own. + +"Yes, my dear. He would not be able to break off there without a +tremendous to-do, I'll warrant you; for the girl is the General's niece, +the daughter of Mr. Sydney Vane--the Miss Enid you spoke about just +now." + +As he got no answer, he turned to look at her, and found that she was +deadly white; but, when she noticed that he was looking at her, she +smiled and passed her hand reassuringly within his arm. + +"You make my task all the easier for me, father," she said; "I shall +know what to do now. And I think that it is about time for me to go +home." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Cynthia had already despatched a little note to Hubert asking him to +visit her at a certain hour that afternoon--hence the certainty with +which she spoke of his visit to her father. After what had passed +between them, she did not think that he would fail to come. + +She wanted him at half-past five precisely, because at that hour Madame +had promised to go for a drive in the Park with one of her most +fashionable pupils and her friends, and Cynthia knew that she could then +see him alone. And she was right in thinking that he would come. Just as +the half-hour struck, Hubert knocked at Madame della Scala's door, and +was immediately ushered into a tiny little room on the ground-floor +which was always called "Miss West's parlor," and which contained little +furniture except a piano and table and a couple of chairs. It was here +that Cynthia practised and studied, and sat when she wanted to be alone. +Two or three photographs of the heads of great singers and musicians +were the sole decorations of the walls; a pile of music and some books +lay on the table. The place had a severely business-like air; and yet +its very simplicity and the sombreness of its tints had hitherto always +given Hubert, who knew the room, a sense of pleasure. But he knitted his +brows when he was taken to it on this occasion. It seemed to him that +Cynthia wanted to give her interview with him also a business-like +character. But perhaps, he reflected, it was only that she wanted a +peculiarly confidential talk. + +He looked at her a little anxiously when she came in, and was rather +puzzled by her face. She was pale, and she had been crying, for her +eyelids were red; but she gave him a peculiarly sweet and winning smile, +and there was a pleading softness in the lovely eyes under the wet +lashes which melted his heart to her at once, although she offered him +her hand only and would not allow him to kiss her cheek. + +"What--not one kiss for me this afternoon? I thought I was forgiven!" he +said reproachfully. + +"It is I who want forgiveness," she answered, "for being so bad-tempered +and cross and rude last night." + +"Take my forgiveness then," said Hubert almost gaily in his relief at +hearing the sweetness of her voice--"and take it in this form." + +He would not be denied; and Cynthia had no heart to struggle. She let +him enfold her in his arms for a moment, and press a dozen kisses on her +lips and cheek; then she drew herself away. He felt the movement; +although he did not let her go. + +"My dearest, you do not speak naturally--and you want to get away from +me. What does this mean?" + +"I don't know that I exactly want to get away from you," said Cynthia, +smiling; "but I think that perhaps I must." + +The smile was a very woeful little affair after all. + +"Must! I don't think I shall ever let you go again!" + +He tightened his clasp. She looked up into his face with beseeching +eyes. + +"Do take away your arm, please, Hubert! I want to talk to you, and I +cannot if it is there." + +"Then we will leave it there. I don't think I want to talk, darling. I +am very tired--I think I must have walked miles last night before I came +back to this door to hand my lady out of her carriage, and I want to be +petted and spoken to kindly." + +Cynthia's fingers twitched and she turned her head aside, but not before +Hubert had noticed the peculiar expression that crossed her face. Being +a play-writer and constant theatre-goer, his mind was full of theatrical +reminiscences. He remembered at that moment to have noticed that +peculiar twitch, that odd expression of countenance, in Sarah Bernhardt +when she was acting the part of a profoundly jealous woman. It had then +meant, "Go to my rival, to her whom you love, and be comforted--do not +come to me!" But there was no likeness between the great tragic actress +and Cynthia West either of character or of circumstance; and Cynthia had +no cause to be jealous. But he thought of the momentary impression +afterwards. + +She turned her face back again with as sweet a smile as ever. + +"You think you must always have your own way; but I want to be +considered too. I have something to tell you, and I shall not be happy +until it is said. If you are tired, you shall sit down in this chair--it +is much more comfortable than it looks--and have some tea, and then we +can talk. But Madame may be in by half-past six, and I want to get it +all over before she comes." + +"'Getting it all over' sounds as if something disagreeable were to +follow!" said Hubert, releasing her and taking the chair she proffered. +"No tea, thank you; I had some at my club before I came. Now what is it, +dear? But sit down; I can't sit, you know, if you stand." + +"I must stand," said Cynthia, with a touch of imperiousness. "I am the +criminal, and you are the judge. The criminal always stands." + +"It is a very innocent criminal and a very unworthy judge in this +instance. 'Sit, Jessica.'" + +She laughed and drew a chair forward. Sitting down, he saw that her +figure fell at once into a weary, languid attitude, and that the smile +faded suddenly from her face. He put his hand on hers. + +"What is it, my dearest?" he said, seriously this time. + +She raised her eyes, and they were full of tears. + +"It is of no use trying to speak lightly about it," she said. "I may as +well tell you that it is a very important matter, Hubert. I sent for you +to-day to tell you that we must part." + +"Nonsense, Cynthia!" + +"We must indeed! The worst is that we might have avoided all this +trouble--this misery--if I had been candid and open with you from the +first. If I had told you all about myself, you would perhaps never have +helped me--or at least--for I won't say that exactly--you would have +helped me from a distance, and never cared to see me or speak to me at +all." + +"Of course you know that you are talking riddles, Cynthia." + +"Yes, I know. But you will understand in a minute or two. I only want to +say, first, that I had no idea who--who you were." + +"Who I am, dear? Myself, Hubert Lepel, and nobody else." + +"And cousin"--she brought the words out with difficulty--"cousin to the +Vanes of Beechfield." + +"Well, what objection have you to the Vanes of Beechfield?" + +"They have the right to object to me; and so have you. Do you remember +the evening when I spoke to you in the street outside the theatre? Did +it never cross your mind that you had seen and spoken to me before? You +asked me once if I knew a girl called Jane Wood. Now don't you remember +me? Now don't you know my name?" + +Hubert had risen to his feet. His face was ghastly pale; but there was a +horror in it which even Cynthia could not interpret aright. + +"You--you, Jane Wood!" he gasped. "Don't trifle with me, Cynthia! You +are Cynthia West!" + +"Cynthia Janet Westwood, known at St. Elizabeth's as Janie Wood." + +"You--you are Westwood's child?" + +She silently bowed her head. + +"Oh, Cynthia, Cynthia, if you had but told me before!" + +He sank down into his chair again, burying his face in his hands with +his elbows on his knees. There was a look of self-abasement, of shame +and sorrow in his attitude inexplicable to Cynthia. Finding that he did +not speak, she took up her tale again in low, uneven tones. + +"I knew that I ought to tell you. I said that I would tell you +everything before--before we were married, if ever it came to that. I +ought to have done so at once; but it was so difficult. They had changed +my name when I went to school so that nobody should know; they told me +that it would be a disgrace to have it known. I ran away from St. +Elizabeth's because I had been fool enough to let it out. I could not +face the girls when they knew that--that my father was called a +murderer." + +Hubert drew his breath hard. She tried to answer what she thought was +the meaning of that strange sound, half moan, half sigh. + +"I never called him so," she said. "You will not believe it, of course; +but I know that my father would never have done the deed that you +attribute to him. He was kind, good, tender-hearted, although he lived +in rebellion against some of the ordinary laws of society. There was +nothing base or mean about him. If he had killed a man, he would not +have told lies about it; he would have said that he had done it and +borne the punishment. He was a brave man; he was not a murderer." + +Still Hubert did not answer. He dared not let her see his face; she must +not know the torture her words inflicted on him. She went on. + +"Lately I have thought that it would be better for me to face the whole +thing out, and not act as if I were ashamed of my father, who is no +murderer, but a martyr and an innocent man. I took my first step last +night by telling your aunt Miss Vane that 'West' was only an assumed +name. I had never said that before. Do you remember how she looked at +me--how she hated me--when we stood outside the gates of Beechfield Park +that afternoon? The sight of me made her ill; and, if she knew me by my +right name, it would make her ill again. If I had known that you were +their cousin, I would never have let you see my face!" + +"Cynthia, have a little mercy!" cried Hubert, suddenly starting up, and +dashing his hair back from his discolored, distorted face. "Do you think +I am such a brute? What does it matter to me about your father? Was I so +unkind, so cruel to you when you were a child that you cannot trust me +now?" + +"No," she said, looking at him gently, but with a sort of aloofness +which he had never seen in her before; "you were very good to me then. +You saved me from the workhouse; you would not even let me go to the +charity-school that Mrs. Rumbold recommended. You told me to be a good +girl, and said that some day I should see my father again." She put her +hand to her throat, as if choked by some hysteric symptom, but at once +controlled herself and went on. "I see it all now. It was through you, I +suppose, that I was sent to St. Elizabeth's, where I was made into +something like a civilised being. It was you to whom they applied as to +whether I should be removed from the lower to the upper school; and +you--out of your charity to the murderer's daughter--you paid for me +forty pounds a year. I did not know that I had so much to be grateful +for to you. I have taken gifts from you since, not knowing; but this is +the last of it--I will never take another now!" + +"Are you so proud, Cynthia, that you cannot bear me to have helped you a +little? My love, I did not know, I never guessed that you were +Westwood's daughter. But can you never forgive me for having done my +best for you. Do you think I love you one whit the less?" + +"Oh, I see--you think that I am ungenerous," cried Cynthia, "and that it +is my pride which stands in your way! Well, so it is--this kind of +pride--that I will not accept gifts from those who believe my father to +be a guilty man when I believe in his innocence. They did well never to +tell me who was my benefactor--for whom I was taught to pray when I was +at St. Elizabeth's. If I had known, the place would not have held me for +a day when I was old enough to understand! At first I was too ignorant, +too much stupefied by the whole thing to understand that the Vanes were +keeping me at school and supporting me. It is horrible--it is +sickening--to send my father to prison, to the gallows, and his child to +school! Much better have let me go to the workhouse! Do you think I wish +to be indebted to people who think my father a murderer?" + +"You mistake!" said Hubert quickly. "The Vanes knew nothing about it. If +Mrs. Rumbold ever said so, it was my fault. I did not like her to think +that I was doing it alone. And, as for me, Cynthia, I never thought your +father guilty--never!" + +He trembled beneath the burning gaze she turned on him, and his color +changed from white to red, and then to white again. He felt as if he had +been guilty of the meanest subterfuge of his whole life. + +"You never thought so?" she said, with a terrible gasp. "Then who was +guilty? Who did that murder, Hubert? Do--you--know?" + +She could not say, "Was your sister guilty, and are you shielding her?" + +He looked at her helplessly. His tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; +he could not speak. With a bitter cry she fell upon her knees before him +and seized his hands. + +"You know--you know! Oh, Hubert, clear my father's name! Never mind whom +you sacrifice! Let the punishment fall on the head of the wrong-doer not +on my dear, dear father's! I will forgive you for having been silent so +long, if now you will only speak. I will love you always, I will give +you my life, if you will but let the truth be known!" + +He gathered his forces together by an almost superhuman effort, and +managed to speak at last; but the sweat stood in great drops on his +brow. + +"Cynthia, don't--don't speak so, for God's sake! I know nothing, I have +nothing to say!" + +Clinging to his knees, she looked up at him, her eyes full of +supplication. + +"Is the cost too great?" she cried. "Will you not tell the truth for my +sake--for Cynthia's sake?" + +Scarcely knowing what he did, he pushed back his chair, and wrenched +himself free from her entreating hands. + +"I cannot bear this, Cynthia! If I could---- But it is of no use; I have +nothing--nothing to tell." + +He had moved away from her; but he came back when he saw that she had +fallen forward with her face on the chair where he had been sitting. He +leaned over her. At first he thought that she had fainted; but presently +the movement of her shoulders showed him that she was but vainly +endeavoring to suppress a burst of agonising sobs. + +"Cynthia," he said, "believe in my love, darling! If you believe in +nothing else, you may be sure of that." + +He laid his hand gently round her neck, and, finding that she did not +repulse him, knelt beside her and tried to draw her to his breast. For a +few minutes she let her head rest on his shoulder, and clung to him as +if she could not let him go. When she grew calmer, he began to whisper +tender words into her ear. + +"Cynthia, I will give up all the world for your dear sake! Let us go +away from England together, and live only for each other, darling! We +could be happy somewhere, away from the toil and strife of London, could +we not? I love you only, dearest--only you! If you like, we would go to +America and see whether we could not find your poor father, who, I have +heard, is living there; and we could cheer his last days together. Will +you not make me happy in this way, Cynthia? Be my wife, and let us +forget all the world beside." + +She shook her head. She had wept so violently that at first she could +not speak. + +"Why do you shake your head? You do not doubt my love? My darling, I +count the world well lost for you. Do not distrust me again! Do you +think I mind what the world says, or what my relatives say? You are +Cynthia and my love to me, and whose daughter you are matters +nothing--nothing at all!" + +"But it matters to me," she whispered brokenly--"and I cannot consent." + +"Dearest, don't say that! You must consent! Your only chance of +happiness lies with me, and mine with you." + +"But you have promised yourself," she murmured, "to Enid Vane." + +"Conditionally; and I am certain--certain that she does not care for +me." + +"I am not certain," she whispered. + +Then there was a little pause; during which he felt that she was bracing +herself to say something which was hard for her to say. + +"I have made up my mind," she said at length, "to take nothing away from +Enid Vane that is dear to her. Do you remember how she pleaded with you +for me? Do you remember how good she was--how kind? She gave me her +shilling because I had had no food that day. I never spent it--I have +that shilling still. I have worn it ever since, as a sort of talisman +against evil." She felt in her bosom and brought out the coin attached +by a little string around her neck. "It has been my greatest treasure! I +have had so few treasures in my life. And do you think I am going to be +ungrateful? If it broke my heart to give you up, I would not hesitate +one moment, when I had reason to think that you were plighted to Enid +Vane." + +She drew herself away from him as she spoke, and rose to her full +height. Hubert stood before her, his eyes on the floor, his lips white +and tremulous. What could he say? He had nothing but his love to +plead--and his love looked a poor and common thing beside that purity of +motive, that height of purpose, that intensity of noble passion which at +that moment made Cynthia's face beautiful indeed. + +"I will see you no more," she said. "You must go back to Enid Vane, and +you must make her happy. For me, I have another work to do. In my own +way I--I shall be happy too. There is a double barrier between us, and +we must never meet again." + +"Is it a barrier that can never be broken down, Cynthia?" + +"No," she said--"not unless my father is shown to be innocent to the +world and the stain removed from his name--not unless we are sure--sure +that Enid Vane has no affection for you save that of a cousin and a +friend. And those things are impossibilities; so we must say good-bye." + +It seemed as if he had not understood her words. He muttered something, +and clutched at the table behind him as if to keep himself from falling. + +"Impossibilities indeed!" he said hoarsely, after a moment's pause. +"Good-bye, Cynthia!" + +Struck with pity for his haggard face and hollow eyes, Cynthia came up +to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. + +"I was mad just now! I said more than I think I meant, Hubert. Forgive +me before you go; but never come here again." + +Their eyes met, and then some instinct prompted her to whisper very +low--"Could you not, even now, save my father if you tried?" + +Surely his good angel pleaded with him in Cynthia's guise, and, looking +into her face, he answered as he had never thought to answer in this +world-- + +"Yes, Cynthia; if I took his place, I could." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Westwood had scouted Cynthia's notion that the woman in black who seemed +to be following them could possibly be a spy; nevertheless he meditated +upon it with some anxiety, and resolved, on his arrival at his lodgings, +to be wary and circumspect--also to show that he was on his guard. He +relapsed therefore into the very uncommunicative "single gentleman" whom +Mrs. Gunn, his landlady, had at first found him to be, and refused +rather gruffly her invitation that afternoon to take tea with her in her +own parlor in the company of herself and her niece. + +"He's grumpier than ever," she said to this niece, who was no other than +Sabina Meldreth, now paying a visit--on business principles--of +indefinite duration to her aunt's abode in Camden Town; "and I did think +that you'd melted him a bit last week, Sabina! But he's as close as +wax! Let's sit down to our tea before it gets black and bitter, as he +won't come." + +"He must have seen me in the Gardens," said Sabina, who was dressed in +the brightest of blue gowns, with red ribbons at her throat and wrists, +"though I should never have thought that he would recognise me, being in +black and having that thick black veil over my face." + +"I don't see what you wanted to foller him for!" said Mrs. Gunn. "What +business o' yours was it where he went and what he did? I don't think +you'll ever make anything of him"--for Miss Meldreth had begun to harbor +matrimonial designs on the unconscious Mr. Reuben Dare. + +"I'm not so sure," said Sabina. "Once get a man by himself, and you can +do a' most anything with him, so long as there's no other woman in the +way." + +"And is there another woman in the way?" + +"Yes, aunt Eliza, there is." + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Gunn, emptying the water-jug into the +tea-pot in pure absence of mind. "You saw him with one, did you?" + +"Yes, aunt Eliza, I did." + +"And what was she like, Sabina?" + +"Well, some folks would call her handsome," said Sabina dubiously; "and +she was dressed like a lady--I'll say that for her. But what's odd is +that I'm nearly sure I heard her call him 'father.' She's young enough +to be his daughter, anyway." + +"Did he call her anything?" + +"I couldn't hear. But I'll tell you what I did afterwards, aunt Eliza; I +followed her when she came out at the gate--and she didn't see me then. +She went straight to a house in Norton Square; and I managed to make +some inquiries about her at a confectioner's shop in the neighborhood. +The house belongs to a music-mistress; and this girl is a singer. +'Cynthia West,' they call her--I've seen her name in the newspapers. +Well, I thought I would wait round a bit, and presently I saw a man go +to the house to deliver a note; and thinks I to myself, 'I know that +face.' And so I did. It was Mr. Lepel's man, Jenkins, as used to come +down with him to Beechfield." + +"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Gunn, raising her hands in amazement. + +"He knew me," Sabina proceeded tranquilly; "and so we had a little chat +together. I says to him, 'Who is it you take notes to at number +five--the old lady or the young one?' 'Oh,' says he, 'the young one, to +be sure. Scrumptious, isn't she?' 'Cynthia West?' says I. 'Yes,' he +says--'and Mrs. Hubert Lepel before very long, if I've got eyes to see! +He's always after her.' 'That ain't very likely,' I said, 'because he's +got a young lady already in the country.' 'One in the country and one in +the town,' he says, with a wink--'that's the usual style, isn't it?' +And, seeing that he was disposed to be familiar, I said good-day to him +and came away." + +"What will you do now then, Sabina?" + +"Well," said Sabina reflectively, "I think I shall let Mrs. Vane know. +She'd be glad to have a sort of handle against her brother, I'm +thinking. And these people--Mr. Dare and Miss West--seem to have got +something to do with Beechfield, for I'm certain it was to Beechfield he +went when he left here for that fortnight. He gave no address--that was +natural maybe--but he'd got the Whitminster label on his bag when he +came back. And, if Miss West was being courted by Mr. Lepel, and her +father wanted to know who Mr. Lepel was and all about him, he might +easily gather that Beechfield was the place to go to. I suppose he +wanted to find out whether Mr. Lepel was engaged to Miss Vane or not. +And I've a sort of idea too that there's something mysterious about it +all. Why shouldn't he have said straight out where he was going, +especially when I had already told him that I knew Whitminster so well +and belonged to Beechfield? It seems to me that Mr. Dare has got +something to conceal; and I'd like to know what it is before I go any +farther." + +"Any farther!" said her aunt contemptuously. "It don't seem to me that +you've got very far!" + +"Farther than you think," was Miss Meldreth's reply. "He's afraid of me, +or else he would have come to tea this afternoon. And a woman can always +manage a man that's afraid of her." + +Fortified by this conviction, Sabina sat down after tea to indite a +letter to Mrs. Vane. She was not a very deft scribe, and the spelling of +certain words was a mystery to her. But, with the faults of its +orthography corrected the letter finally stood thus-- + +"MADAM--I thought you might like to know as how there is a gentleman, +named Reuben Dare, lodging here at my aunt's, as seems to have a secret +interest in Beechfield. I think, but I am not quite sure, that he spent +a few days at the Beechfield inn not long ago. He is tall and thin and +brown, with white hair and beard and very black eyes. He will not talk +much about Beechfield, and yet seems to know it well. Says he comes from +America. He was walking for a long time in Kensington Garden this +morning with a young woman that goes by the name of Cynthia West and is +a singer. She calls; him 'Father.' Madam, I take the liberty of +informing you that Mr. H. Lepel visits her constant, and is said to be +going to marry her. She is what gentlemen call good-looking, though too +dark for my taste. It does not seem to be generally known that she has a +parent living. + + "Yours respectfully, + "SABINA MELDRETH." + +Mrs. Vane read this letter with considerable surprise. She meditated +upon it for some time with closed lips and knitted brows; then she rang +the bell for Parker. + +"Parker," she said, "can you tell me whether any strangers have been +visiting Beechfield lately?" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am! There was an old gentleman at the 'Crown' a few days +ago. The post-office woman told me that he came from America." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes, ma'am--'Mr. Dare.'" + +"The woman at the post-office told you that? Did you ever see him?" + +"Yes, ma'am. He spoke to me one evening when I'd run out with a letter, +and asked me the way to the Hall." + +"And then?" + +"He said he'd heard of a Mr. Lepel at Beechfield, ma'am," said Parker, +rather reluctantly, "and that he knew a Mr. Lepel and wondered, whether +it was the same. But it wasn't. The Mr. Lepel he knew was short and fair +and was married; the Mr. Lepel that came here, as I told him, was dark +and tall and engaged to Miss Vane." + +"You had no right to tell him that, Parker; it is not public property." + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am! I'd heard it so often that I +thought everybody knew." + +"What else did this Mr. Dare say?" + +"I don't remember, ma'am." + +"Did he ask no other questions? Did he ask, for instance, whether Mr. +Lepel was not very fond of Miss Vane?" + +"Well, yes, ma'am; now you mention it I think he did--though how you +came to guess it----" + +"Never mind how I came to guess it. What did you say?" + +"I said that he worshipped the ground she trod upon, and that she was +just the same with him." + +"And pray how did you know that?"--Parker shuffled. + +"Well, ma'am, I couldn't rightly say; but it's what is general with +young ladies and young gentlemen, and it wouldn't have looked well, I +thought, to ha' said anythink else." + +"Oh, I see! The remark was purely conventional," said Flossy cynically. +"I congratulate you, Parker, on always doing as much harm as you can +whenever you take anything in hand. Did he seem pleased by what you +said?" + +"Not exactly pleased, ma'am--nor displeased; I think, if anything, he +was more pleased than not." + +"That will do," Mrs. Vane said shortly; and Parker retired, much +relieved in her mind by having come off, as she considered, so well. + +Mrs. Vane proceeded to electrify the household the next morning by +declaring that she must at once go up to London in order to see her +dentist. She announced her intention at a time when the General, much to +his annoyance, could not possibly accompany her. She said to him very +sweetly that she had chosen that hour on purpose because she did not +want to put him to needless inconvenience, and that she preferred to go +with Parker only as her companion. She hated to be seen, she said, when +she was in pain. + +The General fumed and fretted; but, as he had an important meeting to +attend at Whitminster that day, he could but put his wife into the train +and give Parker endless injunctions to be careful of her mistress. +Parker promised fervently to do all that lay in her power; and with a +serene smile Flossy listened to the General's orders and her maid's +asseverations with equal tranquility. They had the carriage to +themselves; and not until the train was nearly to London did Mrs. Vane +rouse herself from the restful semi-slumber in which she seemed to have +passed the journey. Then she sat up suddenly, with a curiously +wide-awake and resolute air, and addressed herself to her maid. + +"I shall not require you at all to-day, Parker. I brought you only +because the General would never have allowed me to come alone; but I +dislike being attended by any one when I go to the dentist's or to the +doctor's. You may wait at the railway-station until I come back. I may +be only an hour, or I may be gone all day." + +"The General's orders, ma'am," began Parker, with a gasp; but her +mistress cut the sentence short at once. + +"I suppose you understand that you are my servant and not the +General's?" she said. "You will obey my orders, if you please." + +She gave the maid some money, and instructions to spend as much as she +pleased at buffet and book-stalls until her return. + +"Enjoy yourself as much as you like and as much as you can," said Mrs. +Vane carelessly--"only don't stir from the station, for when I come back +I shall want you at once." + +She installed the faithful Parker safely in the waiting-room, and then +went out and got into a cab--not a hansom cab; Mrs. Vane did not wish to +be seen in her drive through the London streets. The address which she +gave to the cabman was not that of her dentist, but of the lodgings at +present tenanted by her brother. + +Parker remained at the station in a state of tearful collapse. She was +terribly afraid of being questioned and stormed at by the General when +she got back for neglect of her trust. She was certainly what Flossy had +called her--"a faithful fool." She wanted to do all that her mistress +required; but it had not as yet even occurred to her that Mrs. Vane was +quite certain to require utter silence, towards the General and +everybody else, on the question of her disposition of the day. And, if +silence was impossible, a good bold lie would do as well. Parker had not +yet grasped the full amount of devotion that was expected of her. + +Hubert had seldom been more surprised in his life than when the +elegantly-dressed lady who was ushered into his sitting-room proved to +be his sister Florence. She had never visited him before. He sprang up +from his writing-table, which was piled high with books and manuscripts, +flung a half-smoked cigar into the grate, and greeted her with a mixture +of doubt and astonishment, which amused if it did not flatter the astute +Mrs. Vane. + +"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I hope you are not the bearer of +ill news, Flossy! Is anything wrong at Beechfield?" + +"Oh, dear, no! I came up to see my dentist," said Flossy carelessly, +"and I thought that I would give you a call _en passant_. So these are +your rooms? Not at all bad for a bachelor!" + +"That is high praise from you, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling faintly. + +"But you do not look at all well, Hubert. What is the matter with you? +You look terribly fagged!" + +Her remark was justified by his appearance. His face had a drawn look +which added ten years to his age; his eyes seemed almost to have sunk +into his head. He made an impatient gesture, and looked away. + +"I have not been very well," he said; "but there is no need to speak +about it. I am very busy, and I want rest--change of scene and air." + +"Why not come down to Beechfield?" + +He gave a slight but perceptible shudder. + +"No," he said briefly, and then stood leaning against his writing-table, +and was silent. + +"Hubert," said his sister, a little more quickly than usual, "I said +that I wanted to see my dentist, but I had another reason for coming to +town. Can you tell me where I can find a file of the _Times_ newspaper +for the early months of the year 187-?"--she mentioned the year of +Sydney Vane's death and the trial of Andrew Westwood. + +"You want--the trial?" said her brother, with an evident effort. She +bowed her head. + +"Why?" + +"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall +them to my mind." + +He stood looking at her silently. + +"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if +to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a public library, no doubt. +The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go +elsewhere." + +"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies +myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you." + +"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as +she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair. + +He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a +little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane +noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else +had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the +subject. + +"Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray +gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your +aid." + +He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside +her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write +again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and +clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he +remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of +the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied. + +"Have you found all that you wanted?" + +"Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured--the +fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia +Janet Westwood"--"Cynthia West"--it was plain enough to her quick +intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never +thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the +_Times_. + +"By-the-bye," said Flossy lightly, "I hear sad tales of you in town. How +often is it that you go to see the new singer--Miss West? Has poor Enid +a rival?" + +He did not look round; but she saw that her question sent a shock +through his nerves. + +"I do not know what you mean," he answered coldly. + +"Oh, do you not? You may as well speak the truth--to me, Hubert. Are you +going to marry Miss West or Miss Vane--which?" + +"Neither, I think." + +"Don't be absurd. Are you going to marry Miss West?" + +"No." + +"Shall you marry Enid Vane?" + +"It is not very likely that she will marry me." + +Something in the intense dreariness of his tone struck painfully on +Florence's ear. She rose and put her hand on Hubert's shoulder. + +"What is the matter with you, Hubert?" + +He shook off her hand as if it had been a noxious reptile of which he +desired to rid himself, and rose to his feet. + +"You must not mind what I say to-day, Florence. I am not well. I--I +shall see you another time." + +"Of course you will--plenty of times, I hope!" A look of dismay began to +show itself in Flossy's velvet-brown eyes. "You are not contemplating +any new step, I hope? I----" + +"Don't be alarmed!" he said, with a hoarse unnatural laugh. "Before I +take any new step I will come to you. I will not leave you without a +warning." Then he seemed to recover his self-possession and spoke in +more measured tones. "Nonsense, Florence--don't concern yourself about +me! I have a bad headache--that is all. If I am left alone, I shall soon +be better." + +"I hope you will," said Flossy, rather gravely, "for you look alarmingly +ill to-day. You should send for the doctor, Hubert. And now I will say +good-bye, for I have two or three other things to do to-day, besides +going to my dentist's. The cab is at the door; you need not come down." + +He rose, as she really expected him to do, to see her to her cab; but a +sensation of dizziness and faintness made him sit down again and bury +his head in his hands. Considerably alarmed, Florence rang for Jenkins, +his man, and gave strict orders that the doctor should be sent for at +once. Then, feeling that she had for the present at least done her duty, +she took her leave, promising to call again before she left town that +afternoon. + +Jenkins went for the doctor, as Mrs. Vane had told him to do. When that +gentleman arrived, he found Mr. Lepel stretched on a sofa in a +half-unconscious state, and declared him to be in one of the incipient +stages of brain-fever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Mrs. Vane, on leaving her brother's lodgings, drove straight to Camden +Town. She had reasons for wishing to see Sabina Meldreth. The house was +a little difficult to find, because the street had recently been renamed +and renumbered, and Mrs. Vane was forced, to her great disgust, to +descend from the cab and make inquiries in her own person of various +frowsy-looking women standing at their own doors. "I wish I had brought +Parker," she said to herself more than once; "she would have been useful +in this kind of work. Surely Sabina has given me the right address!" + +"There goes the gentleman that lodges at Mrs. Gunn's!" said one of the +frowsy-looking women at last. "I've heard tell that he was there, though +I didn't know the number. Will you tell this lady, please, sir, what +number Mrs. Gunn's is?" + +The white-bearded old man who was just then passing along the street +turned to Mrs. Vane. + +"I shall be very happy to show the lady the house," he said half raising +his felt hat from his white head with something like foreign politeness. +And then he and Flossy exchanged glances which were hard and keen as +steel. + +He knew her well by sight; but she did not recognise him. She had seen +Westwood only once or twice in her life, and this apparently gentle old +man with the silvery hair did not harmonise with Flossy's impressions of +the Beechfield poacher. Nevertheless she was suspicious enough to +remember that all things were possible; and she made a mental note of +his dark eyes and eyebrows, the latter being a little out of keeping +with his very white hair. As a matter of fact, Westwood had gone too far +in selecting his disguise; a more ordinary slightly-grizzled wig would +have suited his general appearance better. The _perruquier_--an artist +in his way--to whom he had applied considered picturesque effect an +object not to be overlooked; and Mr. Reuben Dare was accordingly a +rather too strikingly picturesque individual to be anything but +theatrical in air. + +He showed Mrs. Vane the house, bowed politely, and then passed down the +street. + +"She's come to enquire about me--I am sure of that," he said. "I'd +better change my lodgings as quick as possible. I'll leave them +to-morrow--to-night would look suspicious, maybe: or should I leave them +now, and never go back?" + +He was half inclined to adopt this course; but he was deterred by the +remembrance of a pocket-book containing money which he had left locked +up in his portmanteau. He could not well dispense with it; and neither +Mrs. Vane nor anybody else could do him any harm, he thought, if he +stayed for twenty-four hours longer at Mrs. Gunn's. But he trusted a +little too much to the uncertainties of fate. + +"Well, Sabina," said Mrs. Vane coolly, as, with a general air of +bewilderment, that young person appeared before her in Mrs. Gunn's best +parlor, "I suppose that you hardly expected to see me here?" + +"No, ma'am, I didn't. I thought you was quite too much of an invalid to +leave home." + +"It is rather an effort," said Flossy drily, "especially considering the +neighborhood in which you live." + +"It ain't country certainly," returned Sabina; "but it's respectable." + +"Ah, like yourself!" said Mrs. Vane. "That was the reason you came to +it, I suppose. Don't look angry, Sabina--I was only meaning to make a +little joke. But jokes are a mistake with most people. I came to answer +your letter in person and to have a talk with you." + +"Won't you have anything to eat, ma'am? We've just finished dinner; but, +if there's anything we can get"--Sabina was evidently inclined to be +obsequious--"an egg, or a chop, or a cup of tea----" + +"No, I don't want anything. Who is this Mr. Reuben Dare?" + +"That's what I want to know, ma'am!" + +"And who is this Miss West?"--Sabina shook her head. + +"She calls him her father--I'm sure of that." + +"Where does she come from? Where was she brought up?" + +"Couldn't say, ma'am. Jenkins says that Miss West used to act at the +Frivolity Theatre--he's seen her there about two years ago. Mr. Lepel +took her up, as far as he can make out, about a year and a half +ago--soon after he settled in London again." + +"Do you think that the man Dare has any connection with Beechfield +beside that of his recent visit?" + +"Yes, I do. He caught himself up like once or twice when I began to talk +of it; and once he put me right--accidental like--about the name of +somebody at Beechfield." + +"Whose name?" + +"I'm not sure as I can remember. Yes, I do, though! It was Mr. Rumbold's +first name. I called him 'The Reverend Edward,' and he says +'Alfred'--quick, as if he wasn't thinking. So he must have known the +place in years gone by." + +Flossy sat thinking. + +"Sabina," she said at length, in her smoothest tones, "I will take you +into my confidence--I know you can be trusted. Of course it would be a +great blow to me if my brother married an actress--a girl whom one knows +nothing at all about; besides, he is almost engaged to my husband's +niece, Miss Vane." She did not add that she had been subtly opposing +this engagement by all the means in her power for the last few weeks. +"We must try to break off the connection as soon as we can. The more we +know about this Miss West's past life the better. I will go to the +Frivolity myself, and see whether I can learn anything about it there. +And, Sabina----" + +"Yes, ma'am," said the woman, as Mrs. Vane paused. + +"That mass of white hair, Sabina--do you think it looks quite natural?" + +"Mr. Dare, you mean, ma'am? No, I don't; I believe it's a wig. I've seen +it quite on one side." + +"Couldn't you find out, Sabina?" + +"Well, I don't see how," said Sabina slowly. "I've never seen him +without it. One night there was an alarm of fire, and everybody rushed +to their doors, and Mr. Dare came too; but his hair and his beard and +everything was just the same as usual. Still I'm sure I've seen it a +little on one side." + +"You provide his food here, do you not? Do you ever help your aunt?" + +"Sometimes, ma'am. I take in his tea and all that, you know. We're by +way of being very friendly, Mr. Dare and me." + +"Sabina, if you had the stuff, could you not quietly put something into +his tea which would make him sleep for an hour or two? And, when he was +asleep, could you not find out what I want to know?" + +Sabina was silent for a moment. + +"What should I get for it?" she said at last. "It's always a risk to +run." + +"Twenty pounds," said Flossy promptly. "There is very little risk." + +"And where should I get the stuff?" + +"I--I have it with me," said Mrs. Vane. + +Sabina, who had been standing, suddenly sat down and burst out laughing. + +"Well, you are a deep one," she said, when her laughter was ended, and +she observed that Mrs. Vane was regarding her rather angrily; "if you'll +excuse me for saying so, ma'am, but you are the very deepest one I ever +came across! And you don't look it one bit!" + +"I suppose you mean both of these assertions for compliments," said +Flossy. "If so you need not trouble to make them again. This is a +business matter. Will you undertake it, or will you not?" + +"When?" + +"To-night." + +"To-night! When he comes in to tea? Well, is it safe?" + +"You mean the drug? Perfectly safe. He will never know that he has had +it. It will keep him sound asleep for a couple of hours at least. During +that time I do not think that thunder itself would wake him." + +"You've tried it before, I'll warrant?" said Sabina half questioningly, +half admiringly. + +"Yes," said Flossy placidly, "I have tried it before." She took a little +bottle of greenish glass from the small morocco bag which she carried in +her hand, and held it up to the light. "There are two doses in it," she +said. "Don't use it all at once. A drop or two more or less does not +matter; you need not be afraid of making it a little too strong. It is +colorless and tasteless. Can you manage it?" + +Sabina considered. + +"If I put it into the tea-pot, it might be wasted; he might not drink +all the tea. He never lets me pour it out for him. Would it alter the +look of the milk?" + +"Not at all." + +"Then I could put it into his cream-jug, and give him so little that +he's sure to use it all and ring for more. He likes a deal of milk in +his tea." + +"Then you will do it, Sabina?" + +Again Sabina hesitated. Finally she said, with sudden decision-- + +"Give me that twenty pound, and then I will." + +"Not until you have earned it." + +"If I don't have it beforehand, I won't do it at all," said Sabina +doggedly. + +Mrs. Vane shrugged her shoulders slightly, opened her bag, and put the +little bottle back into its place. + +"You said you could trust me; show me that you can," said Sabina, +unmoved by this pantomime. "One of us will have to trust the other. I +may do it, and then--who knows?--you may back out of the bargain." + +"Did I ever 'back out of a bargain,' as you coarsely express it? I +think, Sabina, I have trusted you a good deal already." + +"Well, split the difference," said Sabina roughly. "Give me ten down on +the nail, and ten when I've done the work. I dare say I can manage it +to-night. I can write to you when it's over." + +"Very well. Here are ten pounds for you; I will give you the other when +your work is done. But do not write to me; come to me at the Grosvenor +Hotel to-morrow morning. I shall stay the night in town!" + +"Have you any idea who the man is?" said Sabina, as she received the +bottle and the ten-pound note from her visitor's hands. + +"Yes, I have; but I may be wrong." + +"That's not very likely, ma'am. You'd 'a' made a good detective, as I +always did think--you're so sharp." + +"And I don't look it, as you said before. Perhaps I will tell you +to-morrow morning, Sabina. At present I am going to find out all that I +can about Miss Cynthia West. You did not give me her address; give it to +me now." + +She wrote it down in a little pocket-book, and then rose to take her +leave. Sabina, who followed her to the cab, heard her tell the man to +drive to the box-office of the Frivolity Theatre. + +It took Mrs. Vane three-quarters of an hour to reach the Frivolity. It +was half-past three when she got there. She asked at once if it was +possible to see the manager, Mr. Ferguson. A gold coin probably +expedited her messenger and rendered her entrance to the great man +possible; for Mrs. Vane was a very handsome and well-dressed woman, and +the "important business" on which she sent word that she had come had +possibly less influence on the manager's mind than the glowing account +given by the man despatched from the box-office on her errand. + +Flossy was lucky. Mr. Ferguson was in the building--a rather unusual +fact; he was also willing to see her in his private room--another +concession; and he received her with moderate civility--a variation from +his usual manner, which Mrs. Vane must have owed to her own manner and +appearance. + +"I shall not detain you for more than a very few minutes, Mr. Ferguson," +said Flossy, with the air of a duchess, as she accepted the chair which +the manager offered her; "but I have a good reason for coming to you. I +think that a young lady called Cynthia West was once acting at this +theatre? To put my question in plain words--Do you know anything about +her?" + +The manager sneered a little. + +"A good deal," he said. "Oh, yes--she was here! I don't know that I have +anything to tell, however. I should think that Mr. Hubert Lepel, if you +know him, could tell you more about her than any one." + +"I happen to be Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy, with dignity. + +"The deuce you are!" remarked the manager to himself. "That +explains----" Aloud--"Well, madam, how can I assist you? Do you want to +know Miss West's character? Well, that was--if I may use the +word--notorious." + +Flossy's eyes gleamed. + +"So I expected to hear," she murmured. "I am afraid that my poor brother +has some thought of--of marrying her." + +"Oh, surely not!" said Mr. Ferguson. "Surely he wouldn't be such a +fool!" + +"Can you tell me anything definite about her?" + +"Excuse me, madam, for asking; but you--naturally--wish to prevent the +marriage, if possible?" + +"I certainly do not wish my brother to ruin himself for life, as he +would do if she were such a--such a person as you imply." Mrs. Vane's +lips were evidently much too delicate to say in plain terms what she +meant. "If she were as respectable as she seems to be talented, of +course objections about birth and station might be overlooked. But my +brother has expectations from relatives who take the old-fashioned views +about a woman's position; and the mere fact of her being a singer or an +actress might be against her in their eyes. It would be much better for +him if the whole thing were broken off." + +She was purposely vague and diplomatic. + +"Mr. Lepel's his own master, of course," said the manager; "so perhaps +he knows all we can tell him--and more. But you are welcome to use any +information that I can give you." His little green eyes gleamed with +malice, and a triumphant smile showed itself at the corners of his thick +hanging lips. "Miss West's career is well known. Lalli, a member of our +orchestra, picked her out of the streets when she was sixteen or +seventeen, trained her a bit, and brought her here. We soon found out +what sort of person she was, and I spoke my mind to Lalli about it; for, +though we're not particular as to a girl's character, still now and +then---- Well, she was under his protection at the time, and there was +nothing much to be done; so we let her alone. He died suddenly about a +couple of years ago; and then, I believe, she accosted Mr. Lepel in the +street, and went to his rooms and fastened herself upon him, as women of +her sort sometimes do. He took her up, sent her to Italy for a bit, put +her under the care of that woman della Scala--as a blind to the public, +I suppose--and got her brought out as a singer; and she seems to have +had a fair amount of success." + +Mr. Ferguson's account of Cynthia's career had an intermixture of fact, +but it was so artfully combined with falsehood that it was difficult to +disentangle one from the other. + +Flossy listened with keen attention; it struck her at once that Mr. +Ferguson was blackening the girl's character out of spite. + +"Do you know where she came from before your musician, Lalli, discovered +her, Mr. Ferguson?" + +"No, I do not, madam. But I have followed her course with interest ever +since"--which was true. + +"And do you know where she resided before he died?" + +"No, madam--I really do not"--which was utterly false. "Perhaps I could +ascertain for you, and let you know." + +Flossy thanked him and rose. She had not attained her object precisely; +but she had received information that might prove extremely valuable. +The manager bowed her out of his room politely, and called to one of his +subordinates to show her down-stairs. + +This was a little mistake on Mr. Ferguson's part; he did not calculate +on his visitor's questioning his subordinate, who happened to be a young +man with a taste for the violin. + +"Did you know a Mr. Lalli who was once in the orchestra here?" said +Flossy graciously. + +"Oh, yes, ma'am! He was here for a very long time." + +"Do you know where he used to live?" + +"Yes, ma'am, No.--, Euston Road; it's a boarding-house, kept by a Mrs. +Wadsley. He died there." + +Quite astonished by her own success, Flossy slipped a coin into his hand +and made him call her a hansom cab. She was beginning to think of speed +more than of the probability of being recognised in the London streets. + +To Mrs. Wadsley's then in all haste. The dingily respectable air of the +house and of the proprietress herself at once impressed Mrs. Vane with +the idea that Mr. Ferguson had been largely drawing on his own +imagination with respect to Cynthia West. Nothing certainly could be +more idyllic than the story of Lalli's devotion to the girl, whom he had +brought home one night with an assurance to Mrs. Wadsley that she was +the daughter of an old friend, and that he would be responsible for the +payment of her board and lodging until she began to earn her own living. + +"He was just like a father to her," said Mrs. Wadsley confidentially; +"and teach her he would, and scold her sometimes by the hour together. I +assure you, Mrs. Vane, it was wonderful to see the pains that he took +with her. I see in the papers that she has been singing at concerts +lately; and I said to my friend Mrs. Doldrum, 'How pleased poor dear old +Mr. Lalli would have been if he had known!'" + +"He was quite an old man, I suppose?" said Mrs. Vane. "There was no talk +of marriage between them--of an attachment of any kind?" + +Mrs. Wadsley drew herself up in rather an offended manner. + +"Certainly not, madam--save as father and daughter might be attached one +to another. Mr. Lalli was old enough to be the girl's grandfather; and +Cynthia--oh, she was quite a child! I hope you do not think that I +should have chaperoned her if any such matter had seemed likely to +occur; but there was nothing of the kind. Mr. Lalli was quite too +serious-minded for anything of that sort--a deeply religious man, +although an Italian, Mrs. Vane." + +"Indeed, I am glad to hear it," said Flossy solemnly. "Miss West had no +engagement--no love-affair, in short--going on when she was with you?" + +"Certainly not, Mrs. Vane." + +"Did you ever hear her say where she had lived--where she had been +educated--before she came to London?" + +"I did hear something of a school that she had been at," said Mrs. +Wadsley, after a little reflection; "but where it was I could not +exactly tell you. They were Sisters, I believe, who taught her--Roman +Catholics, very probably. 'St. Elizabeth's'--that was the name of the +school; but where it is to be found I am sure I cannot say." + +"At St. Elizabeth's, East Winstead?" said Mrs. Vane quickly. She had +heard the name from the Rumbolds. + +"I am sure I cannot say, Mrs. Vane." + +"Miss West was not a Roman Catholic, was she?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Mrs. Wadsley with great stiffness. + +Flossy's questions had not impressed her favorably; but the words next +uttered by her visitor did away to some extent with the bad impression. + +"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wadsley, for your kind information! The fact is +that a relative of mine his fallen in love with Miss West, and I was +asked to find out who she was and all about her. Everything I have heard +is so entirely charming and satisfactory, that I shall be able to set +everything right, and assure my friends that we shall be honored by an +alliance with Miss West. I hope we shall see you at the wedding, Mrs. +Wadsley, when it takes place." + +"When it takes place," Flossy repeated to herself, when she stood once +more in the noisy London street; "but I do not think it will ever take +place. I wonder how far it is to East Winstead; and whether it is worth +while going there or not?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +It was not much after five, and the days were very long. Mrs. Vane found +that she could reach East Winstead by seven, and, allowing for one hour +at St. Elizabeth's, could be back in London by half-past nine. She, who +was said to be an invalid, who never walked half a mile alone or exerted +herself in any avoidable way, now showed herself as unwearied, as +vigorous, as energetic as any able-bodied detective in the pursuit of +his duty. She went first to the station where she had left Parker, and +gave the maid her instructions. Parker was to go to the Grosvenor Hotel +and engage rooms for the night for herself and her mistress, and to see +that every requisite for comfort was provided for Mrs. Vane when she +arrived. At half-past seven precisely she was to despatch a telegram +which Flossy herself had written for the General's benefit, announcing +her intention to stay the night in town. It was not to be sent earlier, +as in that case the General would be rushing off to London to take care +of his wife, and Flossy did not want him in the least. If he got the +telegram between eight and nine, he would scarcely start that night, +although she knew that she might fully expect to see him in the morning. +He was a most affectionate husband, and never believed that his wife was +capable of doing anything for herself. + +Parker was much amazed by Mrs. Vane's proceedings, and did not believe +that the dentist was responsible for them, or Mr. Hubert Lepel either, +although Flossy was careful to put the blame of her detention upon these +innocent persons. She was not allowed to know what her mistress was +going to do, but was sent away from the station to the hotel at once in +a hansom-cab. Then Flossy calmly provided herself with sandwiches and a +flask of sherry, took a return-ticket for East Winstead and found +herself moving out of the station in a fast train at exactly five +minutes to six. It was quick work; but she had accomplished the task +that she had set herself to do. Flossy had a genius for intrigue. + +She reached East Winstead at seven, and found a cab at the station. The +drive to St. Elizabeth's occupied twenty minutes--longer than she had +anticipated. She would have to do her work--make all her inquiries--in +exactly one quarter of an hour if she meant to catch the next train to +London. Well, a quarter of an hour ought to tell her all that she wished +to know. + +She took little notice of the beauty of garden and architecture at St. +Elizabeth's; these were not what she had gone to see. She asked at the +door if she could see the Sister in charge of the girl's school. + +"Which--the orphanage or the ladies' school?" + +"The orphanage," was Flossy's prompt reply; and accordingly she was +shown into the presence of Sister Louisa. + +"I am afraid that I must appear very brusque and abrupt," said Mrs. +Vane, with the soft graciousness of manner which proved so powerful a +weapon in her armory; "but I shall have to come to the point at once, as +I have only a few minutes to spare. Can you tell me whether you ever had +a child in your orphanage called Cynthia West?" + +Sister Louisa considered, and then shook her head. + +"'Cynthia' is an uncommon name," she said. "I am sure what we never +had--at least, within the last ten years." + +"It would not be so long ago," said Mrs. Vane. "I have reason, however, +to think that 'Cynthia West' is not her real name. Would the name of +'Westwood'--'Cynthia Janet Westwood'--recall any child to your memory?" + +Sister Louisa started, and a flush covered her mild thin face. + +"Is it possible," she said, "that you mean our lost child Jane Wood?" + +"She may have been known under that name," said Florence. "You had a +girl here called 'Jane Wood,' then? Why do you think that she has any +connection with Cynthia West?" + +"You mentioned the name of 'Westwood,'" said Sister Louisa eagerly. +"Jane Wood's name was really 'Westwood'; but, as she was the daughter of +a notorious criminal, Mrs. Rumbold of Beechfield, who placed her with +us, asked that she should be called 'Wood.' She was the child of +Westwood, who committed a dreadful murder at Beechfield, in Hampshire--a +gentleman called Vane----" Here Sister Louisa glanced at the visitor's +card. "You know perhaps," she went on in some confusion; but Flossy +interrupted her. + +"Mr. Vane, the murdered man, was my brother-in-law. I am the wife of +General Vane of Beechfield. I had some notion that this girl Cynthia +West was identical with Westwood's daughter, but I could not be sure of +the fact. How long was she with you, may I ask?" + +Then she heard the whole story. She heard how the child had come to St. +Elizabeth's, and been gradually tamed and civilised; of her wonderful +voice and talent for music; of the generosity of certain persons +unknown, supposed to be the Vanes; of the outburst of passion when +"Janey" heard the lay-sister's accusation of her father, and her +subsequent disappearance; then--not greatly to Flossy's surprise--of Mr. +Lepel's visit, and his search for the girl, which--so far as the Sister +knew--seemed to have ended in failure. + +"But you have found her after all!" cried the good Sister, when Flossy +acknowledged that she was the sister of Hubert Lepel, and presumably +interested in his charitable enterprises. "I am so glad! And she is +growing quite famous? Dear me, I wonder that Mr. Lepel did not let us +know!" + +"Possibly he thought that you would be more grieved than delighted by +the discovery of her present position," said Flossy, not sorry to aim an +arrow at the unknown Cynthia behind her back, and perhaps deprive her of +some very useful and affectionate friends. "Miss West, as she calls +herself, does not bear a good character." She felt a malicious pleasure +in bringing the color into the Sister's delicate cheeks, the moisture +into those kindly, mild gray eyes. "She went upon the stage almost at +once, and lived--well, I need not tell you how she lived perhaps; you +can imagine it no doubt for yourself. I am afraid she was a thoroughly +bad girl from the first." + +"Oh, no, no--I hope not!" exclaimed Sister Louisa, the tears flowing +freely over her pale face. "Our poor Janie! She was a dear child, +generous and kind-hearted, although impetuous and wilful now and then. +If you see her, Mrs. Vane, tell her that our arms are always open to +her--that, if she will come back to us, we will give her pardon and +care, and help her to lead a good and honest life." + +"I am afraid she will never return to you--she would probably be +ashamed," said Mrs. Vane, rather venomously, as she took her leave. "I +am so sorry to hurry away, Sister, but I am afraid that I must catch my +train. You are quite sure then that Jane or Janie Wood, who had such a +beautiful voice, and ran away from you in July, 187-, was really the +daughter of the convict Westwood, and that Mr. Lepel and Mrs. Rumbold +placed her with you and sought for her afterwards?" + +"Quite sure," said Sister Louisa. + +There was a vague trouble at her heart--an uneasiness for which she +could not account. Something in Mrs. Vane's manner--something in her +tone, her smile, her eyes--was distasteful to the unerring instincts of +the pure God-fearing woman, as it had been to the trained observation of +Maurice Evandale. Flossy might do her best to be charming--she might +disarm criticism by the sweetness of her manner; but, in spite of her +efforts, candid and unsullied natures were apt to discern in her a want +of frankness--a little taint of something which they hardly liked to +name. Sister Louisa grieved sorely over what she had heard of Cynthia; +but she was also disturbed by an unconquerable distrust of this fair +fashionable woman of the world. + +"I think there is scarcely any link wanting in the chain," said Mrs. +Vane to herself, when, having just caught her train, she was being +whirled back to the metropolis. "Jane Wood was Cynthia Janet Westwood. +She had a fine voice, and was about sixteen years old when she left St. +Elizabeth's, July, 187-. In July, 187-, the same year, Lalli appeared at +Mrs. Wadsley's with a girl of sixteen, who also had a fine voice, who +had been at St. Elizabeth's, and who called herself Cynthia West. Mr. +Lepel had put Jane Wood at school; Mr. Lepel turns up later on as the +lover--protector--what not?--of Cynthia West. There is not the slightest +reasonable doubt that Jane Wood and Cynthia West are one and the same +person. That prosy old Sister would prove it in a moment if we brought +them face to face. And Jane Wood was Westwood's daughter. Cynthia West +is Westwood's daughter. Very easily traced! What will the world say when +it knows that the rising young soprano singer is the daughter of a +murderer? It won't much care, I suppose. But Hubert will care lest the +fact be known. He has been too careful in hiding it for that not to be +the case. Let me see--Cynthia West--presumably Westwood's +daughter--meets a mysterious stranger in Kensington Gardens and +addresses him as her father. The mysterious stranger comes from America, +and has white hair and a white beard--quite unlike Mr. Andrew Westwood, +be it remarked. Westwood escaped from Portland some years ago, and is +rumored to have settled in the backwoods of America. I think there is +very good reason for supposing that the mysterious stranger is Westwood +himself, returned to England in order to secure his daughter's aid and +companionship. And, if so, what a fool the man must be, when once he had +got safely away, to run his head into a nest of enemies! He must be mad +indeed! And, if mad," said Mrs. Vane, with a curiously cold and cruel +smile, "the best thing for him will be incarceration at Portland prison +once again." + +It was growing dark, and she was beginning to feel a little tired. She +put her feet upon the seat and closed her eyes. Before long she had +fallen into a placid slumber, which lasted until she reached the London +terminus. Then she drove straight to the Grosvenor Hotel, where she +found Parker waiting, and a dainty little supper prepared for her. + +Flossy did justice to her meal, and then went to bed, where she slept +the sleep of the innocent and the righteous, until Parker appeared at +her bedside the next morning with a breakfast-tray. + +"And there's Miss Meldreth in the sitting-room inquiring for you, ma'am. +Is she to come in? I wonder how she knew that you were here?" + +"Oh, I saw her accidentally yesterday afternoon," said Mrs. Vane, "and +told her to call! I want to know what she is doing in London. Yes--she +can come in." + +Parker accordingly summoned Miss Meldreth, and then, in obedience to a +sign from her mistress, retired rather sulkily. She was not very fond of +Mrs. Vane; but she resented any attempt on the part of a former servant +to come between her and her mistress' confidences; and she had an +impression that there was something between Mrs. Vane and Sabina which +she did not know. + +"Well, Sabina, how did the experiment succeed?" said Mrs. Vane easily. +In spite of her look of fatigue and her languid attitude amongst the +pillows, she spoke as if she had not a care in the world. + +"It succeeded all right," answered Sabina, a little shortly. + +"What did you find out?" + +"They're not real--his hair and beard, I mean. It's a wig. He's got +grayish dark-brown hair, and very little of it underneath, and whiskers. +He ain't nearly so old as we thought." + +"Tell me how you managed it," said Mrs. Vane--"from beginning to end." + +"Well, ma'am, he came in about five, as usual, to his tea; and I says to +aunt Eliza, 'I'll carry in the tray'; and I says, 'what a lot of milk +you've given him! I'll pour a little back.' And says she, 'you'd better +not, for he likes his tea half milk, and he'll only ring for more.' +'Well, then,' I says, 'it'll give me a chance of going in a second +time--and, you know, I like that.' So I emptied part of the milk away, +and then I put half of the stuff that you gave me into his jug, and I +took it into Mr. Dare's sitting-room. He looked at me very sharp when I +went in, almost as if he suspected me of something; but he didn't say +nothing, and neither did I. I set down his tray before him, and he pours +out the tea. Almost before I was out of the door, 'Miss Meldreth,' he +says, 'a little more milk, if you please.' 'Oh, didn't I bring you +enough, sir?' I says. 'If you'll pour that into your cup then, I'll send +out for some more, and it'll be here by the time you've done your first +cup. The cat knocked a basin of milk over this afternoon,' says I, 'and +so there isn't as much as usual in the house.'" + +"All that was pure invention, I suppose?" interrogated Mrs. Vane +cynically. + +"One had to say something, ma'am. He looked a little put out, and +hesitated for a minute or two; then he took and emptied the milk-jug +straight into his cup, and began to drink his tea; and I went out and +filled the jug again. I waited for a few minutes before I came back, and +I found him leaning back in his chair, with a sleepy look coming over +him directly. 'Miss Meldreth,' he said, 'I'm sorry to have troubled you, +for I really don't think I want any more tea'--and then he yawned fit to +take his head off--'and I'm going to lie down on the sofa to get a +little rest, for I am so uncommonly drowsy.'" + +"That seems a little sudden," said Mrs. Vane thoughtfully. "Are you sure +that he did not suspect anything?" + +"No, ma'am--I don't think so. Well, he laid down, and I went in and out +taking away the things; and, if you'll believe me, in ten minutes he was +fast asleep and snoring like--like a grampus!" + +"Well, Sabina?" + +"I let him stay so for nearly half an hour, so as to be sure that he was +thoroughly off, ma'am, and then I went up to him and touched his hair. +It was very nicely fitted on; but it was a wig for all that, and one +could easily see the dark hair underneath. The beard was more difficult +to move--there was some sticky stuff to fasten it on as well as an +elastic band behind the ears; but it was plainly a false one too. He's a +dark-looking man, almost like a gipsy, I should say, with hair that's +nearly black--something like his eyebrows. Do you think he's the man you +want, ma'am?" + +"I'm sure of it, Sabina. Do you want to earn three hundred pounds +besides your twenty?" + +"What, ma'am!" + +"Three hundred pounds, I remember, was offered for the arrest of Andrew +Westwood, escaped prisoner from Portland prison, five years ago. This +man is Andrew Westwood, Sabina, who murdered Sydney Vane. You shall have +the money to keep as soon as it is paid." + +Sabina drew back aghast. + +"A murderer," she said--"and him such a nice quiet-looking old +gentleman! Why, aunt Eliza was always planning a match between him and +me! It's awful!" + +Flossy laughed grimly. + +"People don't carry their crimes in their face, Sabina," she said. "Now +you can go away and wait in the sitting-room until Parker has dressed +me. Then you will come with me to Scotland Yard--I believe that is the +place to go to. I want that man arrested before nightfall. Here are your +ten pounds." + +"Oh," said Sabina--"I wish I'd known!" + +"Do you mean that you would not have helped me?" + +"I'm not sure, ma'am; I don't like the idea of shutting the poor man up +for ever and ever in a gaol." + +"Perhaps you don't mind the idea of murder?" said Mrs. Vane +sarcastically. "Don't be a fool, Sabina! Think of the three hundred +pounds too! You shall have it all, I promise you; and I will content +myself with the satisfaction of seeing him once more where he deserves +to be. Now call Parker." + +Sabina went back to the sitting-room, not daring to disobey. Her +reluctance, moreover, soon vanished as the thought of those three +hundred pounds took possession of her. She was absorbed in golden dreams +when Mrs. Vane rejoined her, and was quite prepared to do or say +whatever she was told. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Mrs. Vane left Parker at the hotel with a message for the General, +should he appear, that she was going to her dentist's and thence to her +brother's lodgings. But she and Sabina Meldreth went straight to +Scotland Yard and had an interview with one of the police authorities. + +Mrs. Vane's statement was clear and concise. She was complimented on the +cleverness that she had displayed; and Sabina was shown a photograph of +Andrew Westwood taken while he was at Portland. She could not be quite +so certain that it was Mr. Dare as Flossy would have desired her to be; +but the evidence was on the whole so far conclusive, that it was +determined to arrest Mrs. Gunn's lodger on suspicion. If he could give a +satisfactory account of himself, and if he could not be identified, he +would of course have to be set free again; but it seemed possible, if +not probable, that Reuben Dare was the very man for whom the police had +searched so vainly and so long. A cab was summoned, and an inspector of +police as well as a detective in plain clothes and a constable politely +followed Sabina into it. Mrs. Vane thought it more becoming to her +position not to assist at the arrest. She therefore remained behind, +unable to resist the temptation of awaiting their return with the +prisoner. + +She waited for nearly two hours. Then the cab came back again, and out +of it emerged two police-officers and Sabina; but no detective, and no +Reuben Dare. Flossy's heart beat quickly with a mixture of rage and +fear. Had she taken all this trouble for nothing, and had Reuben Dare +given a satisfactory account of himself after all? + +"The bird has flown, ma'am," said the inspector, entering the office +where she sat, with a rather crestfallen air. "He must have got some +notion of what was in the wind; for he went out this morning soon after +Miss Meldreth left the house, and evidently does not intend to come back +again. He has left his portmanteau; but he has emptied it of everything +that he could carry away, and left two sovereigns on the table in +payment of his rent and other expenses for the week." + +"He has gone to his daughter!" cried Flossy, starting up. "Why have you +not been to her? I gave you her address." + +"No use, ma'am," said the inspector, shaking his head. "We've been round +there already, and left Mullins to watch the house. But I expect we are +too late. We ought to have known last night. Amateurs in the detective +line are sometimes very clever; but they are not always sharp enough for +our work. The young woman has also disappeared." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Vane's unusual absence from her home had not been without its +results. Little Dick held high carnival all by himself in the +drawing-room and the conservatory; and Enid, feeling herself equally +freed from the restraint usually put upon her, wandered out into the +garden, and found a cool and shady spot where she could establish +herself at ease in a comfortable basket-chair. She did not feel disposed +for exertion; all that she wished to do was to lie still and to keep +silence. The old unpleasant feeling of illness had been growing upon her +more and more during the last few days. She was seldom free from nausea, +and suffered a great deal from faintness and palpitation of the heart. +As she lay back in her cushioned chair, her face looked very small and +white, the blue-veined eyelids singularly heavy. She was sorry to hear +the footsteps of a passer-by resounding on a pathway not far from the +spot which she had chosen; but she hoped that the gardener or caller, +or whoever it might chance to be, would go by without noticing her white +dress between the branches of the tree. But she was doomed to be +disappointed. The footsteps slackened, then turned aside. She was +conscious that some one's hand parted the branches--that some one's eyes +were regarding her; but she was too languid to look up. Let the stranger +think that she was asleep; then surely he would go upon his way and +leave her in peace. + +"Miss Vane," said a deep manly voice that she did not expect to hear, "I +beg your pardon--do I disturb you?" + +Enid opened her heavy eyes. + +"Oh, Mr. Evandale--not at all, thank you!" + +"I was afraid that you were asleep," said the Rector, instantly coming +to her side; "and in that case I should have taken the still greater +liberty of awaking you, for there is a sharp east wind in spite of the +hot sunshine, and to sleep in the shade, as I feared that you were +doing, would be dangerous." + +"Thank you," said Enid gently. + +She sat erect for a minute or two, then gradually sank back amongst her +cushions, as if not equal to the task of maintaining herself upright. +The Rector stood beside her, a look of trouble in his kind frank eyes. + +"Shall I give you my arm back to the house?" he said, after a pause. + +"Oh, no, thank you--I am not ill, Mr. Evandale!" + +"But you are not well--at least, not very strong?" + +"Well--no. No--I suppose that I am not very strong." + +She turned away her head; but, notwithstanding the movement, he saw that +a great tear was gathering underneath the veined eyelid, ready to drop +as soon as ever it had a chance. + +"Miss Vane," said the rector suddenly, "are you in any trouble? Excuse +me for asking; but your face tells its own story. You were happier a +year ago than you are now." + +"Oh, yes," the girl sighed--"much happier!" and then the great tear +fell. + +"Can I do nothing to help you? My mission is to those who are in any +trouble; and, apart from that, I thought once that you looked upon me as +a friend." There was a touch of human emotion in the last words which +seemed to bring him closer to Enid than the earlier sentence could have +done. "But I know you have no need of me," the Rector added sorrowfully; +"you have so many friends." + +"I have not a friend in the world!" the girl broke out; and then she +half hid her face with her transparently thin fingers, and tried to +conceal the fact that she was weeping. + +"Not a friend, Miss Vane?" Mr. Evandale's tone betrayed complete +bewilderment. + +"Whom would you call my friend?" said Enid, almost passionately. "Not a +man like my poor uncle, duped, blinded, deceived by any one who chooses +to cajole him? Not a woman like his wife, who hates me, and wants me out +of the way lest I should claim a share of the estate? Oh, I know what I +am saying--I know too well! I can trust neither of them--for he is weak +and under her control, and she has never been a friend to me or mine. I +do not know what to do or where to go for counsel." + +"I heard a rumor that you were engaged to marry Mr. Hubert Lepel," said +the Rector gravely. "If that be true, he surely should be counted +amongst your friends." + +"A man," said Enid, with bitterness of which he would not have thought +her capable, "who cares for me less than the last new play or the latest +_debutante_ at Her Majesty's! Should I call him a friend?" + +"It is not true then that you are engaged to him?" + +"I thought that I was," said Enid, still very bitterly. "He asked me to +marry him; I thought that he loved me, and I--I consented. But my uncle +has now withdrawn the half consent he gave. I am to be asked again, they +tell me, when I am twenty. I am their chattel--a piece of goods to be +given away and taken back. And then you ask me if I am happy, or if I +call the man who treats me so lightly a friend!" + +"I see--I see. But matters may yet turn out better than you think. Mr. +Lepel is probably only kept back by the General's uncertainty of action. +I can quite conceive that it would put a man into a very awkward +position." + +"I do not think that Hubert cares much," said Enid, with a little +sarcasm in her tone. + +"He must care!" said Evandale impetuously. + +"Why?" the girl asked, suddenly turning her innocent eyes upon him in +some surprise. "Why should he care?" + +The Rector's face glowed. + +"Because he--he must care." The answer was ridiculously inadequate, he +knew, but he had nothing else to say. "How can he help caring when he +sees that you care?--unless he has no more feeling than a log or a block +of stone." He smote his hand angrily against the trunk of a tree beside +him as he spoke. + +Still Enid looked at him with the same expression of amazement. But +little by little his emotion seemed to affect her too--the blush to pass +from his face to her pale cheeks. + +"But--but," she stammered, at length, "you are wrong--in that way--in +the way you think. I do not care." + +"You do not care? For him do you not care?" + +"As a cousin," said Enid faintly--"yes." + +"Not as a lover?" The Rector spoke so low she could hardly hear a word. + +"No." + +"Not as a husband?" + +"No." + +"Then why did you consent to marry him?" + +One question had followed another so naturally that the strangeness of +each had not been felt. But Enid's cheeks were crimson now. + +"Oh, I don't know--don't ask me! I felt miserable, and I thought that he +would be a help to me--and he isn't. I can't talk to him--I can't trust +him--I can't ask him what to do! And we are both bound, and yet we are +not bound; and it is as wretched for him as it is for me--and I don't +know what to do." + +"Could you trust me better than you have trusted him?" said the Rector +hoarsely. + +He knew that he was not acting quite in accordance with what men usually +termed the laws of honor; but it seemed to him that the time had come +for contempt of a merely conventional law. Was Perseus, arriving ere the +sacrifice of Andromeda was completed, to hesitate in rescuing her +because the sea-monster had prior rights, forsooth? Was he--Maurice +Evandale--to stand aside while this gentle delicate creature--the only +woman that he had ever loved--was badgered into an early grave by +cold-hearted kinsmen who wanted to sacrifice her to some family whim? He +would do what he could to save her! There was something imperious in his +heart which would not let him hold his tongue. + +"Trust you? Oh, yes--I could trust you with anything!" said Enid, half +unconscious of the full meaning of her words. + +"Do you understand me?" said Mr. Evandale. He dropped upon one knee +beside her chair, so as to bring his face to a level with hers, and +gently took both her hands between his own as he spoke. "I want you to +trust me with your life--with yourself! Make no mistake this time, Enid. +Could you not only trust me, but care for me? For, if you can, I will do +my best to make you happy." + +"Oh, I don't know!" said Enid. She looked at him as if frightened, then +withdrew her hands from his clasp and put them before her face. "It is +so sudden--I never thought----" + +"You never thought that I loved you? No; I have kept silence because I +thought that you loved another. But, if that is not true, and if you are +only trying to uphold a family arrangement which is painful perhaps to +both of you, why, then, there is nothing to keep me silent! I step in +and offer you a way out of the difficulty. If you can love me, I am +ready to give you my whole life, Enid. I have never in my life loved a +woman as I love you. And I think that you could care for me a little; I +seem to read it in your eyes--your poor tired eyes! Rest on me, my +darling--trust to me--and we will fight through your difficulties +together." + +He had drawn her gently towards him as he spoke. She did not resist; her +head rested on his shoulder, her slender fingers stole again into his +hand; she drew a sigh of perfect well-being and content. This man, at +any rate, she could trust with all her heart. + +"Do you love me a little, Enid?" + +"I think so." + +"You are not yet sure?" + +"I am not sure of anything; I have been so tossed about--so +perplexed--so troubled. I feel as if I could be at rest with you--is +that enough?" + +"For the present. We will wait; and, if you feel more for me, or if you +feel less--whatever happens--you must let me know, and I will be +content." + +"You are very good! But, oh"--with a sudden shrinking movement--"I--I +shall have broken my word!" + +"Yes; I am sorry that you have to do it. But better break your word than +marry a man you do not love." + +"And who does not love me," said Enid, in an exceedingly low tone. + +"Are you really sure of that, Enid?" + +"Indeed--indeed I think so! He is so cold and indifferent, and we never +agree when we talk together--he seems impatient of my ideas. Our tastes +are quite different; I am sure that I should not be happy with him, nor +he with me." + +"You will be brave then, my love, and tell him so?" + +"Yes." But again she shrank from him. "Oh, what shall I do if she--if +Flossy tells me that I must?" + +Mr. Evandale frowned. + +"Are you so much afraid of Mrs. Vane?" + +"Yes," she said timorously--"I am. She--she frightens me! Oh, don't be +angry! I know I am very weak; but indeed I cannot help it!"--and she +burst into despairing tears. + +"My darling, my poor little Enid, I am not angry at all! We will brave +her together, you and I. You shall not be afraid of her any longer; you +will know that I am always near you to protect you--to strengthen you. +And you will trust to me?" + +She tried to answer "Yes;" but her strength suddenly seemed to die away +from her. She slipped from his arm and lay back upon the cushions; a +bluish tinge overspread her lips; her face turned deathly white; she +seemed upon the verge of a swoon. + +Evandale, alarmed as he was, did not lose his presence of mind. +Fortunately he had in his pocket a flask of brandy which he had been +about to carry to a sick parishioner. In a moment he had it uncorked and +was compelling her to swallow a mouthful or two; then he fanned her with +the great black fan which had lain upon her lap; and finally he +remembered that he had seen a great watering-can full of water standing +in the garden path not far away, and found that it had not been removed. +The cold water with which he moistened her lips and brow brought her to +herself; in a few minutes she was able to look up at him and smile, and +presently declared herself quite well. But Evandale was very grave. + +"Are you often faint, Enid?" he asked. + +"Rather often; but this"--with a little tinge of color in her pale +cheeks--"this is just a common kind of faintness--it is not like the +other." + +"I know; but I do not like you to turn faint in this way. May I ask you +a few questions about yourself?" + +"Oh, yes--I know that you are quite a doctor!" said Enid, smiling at him +with perfect confidence. + +So the Rector put his questions--and very strange questions some of them +were, thought Enid, though he was wonderfully correct in guessing what +she felt. Yes, she was nearly always faint and sick; she had a strange +burning sensation sometimes in her chest; she had violent palpitations, +and odd feelings of a terrible fright and depression. But the doctor had +assured her that she had not the faintest trace of organic disease of +the heart; and that these functional disturbances would speedily pass +away. Mr. Ingledew had sounded her and told her that she need not be +alarmed--and of course he was a very clever man. + +"Enid," said the Rector at last, after a long pause, and rather as if he +was trying to make a sort of joke which, after all, was not amusing, "I +am going to ask you what you will think a very foolish question. Have +you an enemy in the house--here, at Beechfield Hall?" + +Enid's eyes dilated with a look of terror. + +"Why--why do you ask?" + +"It is a ridiculous question, is it not? But I thought that perhaps +somebody had been playing on your nerves, and wanting to frighten you +about yourself. Is there anybody who might possibly do so?" + +Her lips parted twice before any articulate word issued from them. At +last he caught the answer-- + +"Only Flossy." + +He was silent for a moment. + +"Do you take any medicine?" he asked, at length. + +"Yes; Mr. Ingledew sent me some." + +"What is it like?" + +"I don't know; it is not disagreeable. Flossy looked at it, and said +that it was a calming mixture." + +"I should like to see the prescription; perhaps it does not quite suit +you. And who gives it to you?" + +"I take it myself; it is kept in my bed-room." + +"And what else do you drink and eat?" said the Rector, smiling. "You +see, I am quite a learned physician. I want to know all about your +habits." + +"Oh, I eat and drink just what other people do." + +"Are you thirsty at night?" + +"Yes--very. How did you guess that? I have orange water or lemonade put +beside me every night, so that I may drink it if I wake up." + +And then Evandale, who was watching her intently, saw that her face +changed as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly recurred to her. + +"What is it, dear?" + +"It was only a dream I have had several times--it troubles me whenever I +think of it; but I know that it is only a dream." + +"Won't you tell me what it was? I should like to hear! Lay your head +back on my shoulder again and tell me about it." + +Enid sighed again, but it was with bliss. + +"Perhaps I shall not dream it if I tell it all to you," she murmured. +"It seems to me sometimes as if--in the middle of the night--I wake up +and see some one in the room--a white figure standing by my bed; and she +is always pouring something into my glass; or sometimes she offers it to +me and makes me drink; and she looks at me as if she hated me; and I--I +am afraid." + +"But who is it, my darling?" + +"I suppose it is nobody, because nobody else sees it but me. I made +Parker sleep with me two or three times; but she said that she saw +nothing, and that she was certain that nobody had come into the room. I +suppose it was a--a ghost!" + +"Nonsense, dearest!" + +"Then it was an optical illusion, and I am going out of my mind," said +Enid despairingly. + +"Was the figure like that of anyone you know?" + +"Yes--Flossy." + +"Mrs. Vane? And you think that she does not like you?" + +"I know that she hates me." + +"My darling, it is simply a nightmare--nothing more." But he felt her +trembling in his arms. + +"It is more than a nightmare, I am sure. You know that people used to +say that I might go out of my mind if those terrible seizures attacked +me? I have not had so many of them lately; but I feel weaker than ever I +did--I feel as if I were going to die. Perhaps it would be better if I +were to die, and then I should not be a trouble and a care to anybody. +And it would be better to die than to go mad, would it not?" + +"Enid," said the Rector very gravely, "I believe that your malady is +entirely one of the nerves, and that it can be controlled. You must try +to believe, my darling, that you could conquer it if you tried. When you +feel the approach of one of these seizures, as you call them, resolve +that you will not give way. By a determined effort I think that it is +possible for you to ward them off. Will you try, for my sake?" + +"I will try," said Enid wearily; "but I am afraid that trying will be +useless." + +"And another thing--I do not believe that Mr. Ingledew is giving you the +right kind of medicine. I want you quietly to stop taking it for a week, +and to stop drinking lemonade or orange-water at night. In a week's time +let us see how you feel. If you are no better, I will talk to Ingledew +myself. Will you promise me that? Say, 'Yes, Maurice.'" + +"Yes, Maurice--I promise you." + +"And one more thing, my own dearest. When that nightmare attacks you +again, try to conquer your fear of it. Do not lie still; rise up and see +what it really is. You may find that your dreamy state has misled you, +and that what you took for a threatening figure is merely that of a +servant, who has had orders to come and see whether you were sleeping or +not. Nightmares often resolve themselves into very harmless things. And +of the supernatural I do not think that you need be alarmed; God is +always near you--He will not suffer you to be frightened by phantoms of +the night. Remember when you wake that I shall be thinking of +you--praying for you. I am often up very late, and I do not sleep +heavily. I shall probably be awake thinking of you, or I may be praying +for you, darling, in my very dreams. Will you think of that and try to +be brave?" + +"I feel braver now," said the girl simply. "Yes, Maurice, I will do all +you ask. I do not think that I shall feel afraid again." + +He left her soon afterwards, and returned on the following morning, to +hear, not with surprise, that she had slept better, that she had had no +nightmare, and that she suffered less from nausea and faintness than +usual. Mrs. Vane was away for a second night, and he had time to see +Enid again before her return. She had not touched her medicine-bottles, +and there was again a slight but marked improvement in her condition. +Mr. Evandale induced her to fetch one of the bottles of Mr. Ingledew's +mixture, which he put into his pocket and conveyed it to his own home. +Here he smelt, tasted, and to some extent analysed it. The result was +such as to plunge him for a short time into deep and troubled thought. + +"I expected it," he said at last, with an impatient sigh. "The symptoms +were those of digitalis-poisoning. There is not enough in this +concoction to do her much harm however. It is given to her in some other +form--in that lemonade at night perhaps. Well, I shall soon see whether +my suspicions are correct when Mrs. Vane comes home." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Cynthia, unconscious of the plots of which she was at present the +innocent centre, was meanwhile contending with a sensation of profound +discouragement, mental and physical. She had a severe headache, and was +deeply depressed in spirits. She had lain awake almost entirely for two +nights trying to reconcile her ideal of Hubert with the few words that +had escaped him--words which surely pointed to a darker knowledge, a +deadlier guilt than any which her love could of itself have attributed +to him. Had he known then all the time that her father was not a +murderer? Was her father's theory correct? Had he been screening his +sister at the poor working-man's expense? Cynthia's blood ran cold at +the thought, for, in that case, what side was she to take? She could not +abandon her father--she might abandon Hubert; but, strange mystery of a +woman's heart, she could not love him less. What she could do she knew +not. For Enid's sake indeed she had set him free; but in the hour of her +anguish she questioned her right to do so; for surely, if he knew more +of the manner of Sydney Vane's death than the world knew, there was even +a greater barrier between him and Enid than between him and Cynthia +herself. Enid would give him up--Cynthia felt sure of that; and, if she +gave him up too, he would be indeed alone. The world might say that he +deserved his loneliness; but she could not take the world's view. To her +the man that she loved was sacred; his faults were to be screened, his +crimes forgiven. Whatever he did, she could never cease to love him. So +she said to herself; but, after all, her hour of trial had not come; she +did not know as yet all that Hubert Lepel had done. + +She had seen Hubert leave her with a sensation of the deepest dismay. +She felt that a crisis had come and gone, and that in some way she had +failed to turn it to the best account. In spite of her expressed resolve +to see Hubert no more, she was disappointed that he did not return to +her. She expected to see him on the following day--to remark his face at +a concert where she was to sing on the Wednesday evening. He had left +her on a Tuesday; she was sure that she would get a letter from him on +Thursday. But Thursday was almost over, and she had neither seen nor +heard from him. Had he resolved to give her up? Was he ill? Why had she +not heard a word from him since Tuesday? She racked her brain to +discover a cause for his silence other than her own wild appeal to him; +for she did not believe that that alone would suffice to keep him away. +But it was all of no avail. + +Another source of anxiety for her lay in the fact that she had also not +heard from her father since Tuesday morning. She did not know whether he +had left Mrs. Gunn's house or not, and did not like to risk the sending +of a letter. That he trusted far too much to his disguise Cynthia was +well aware. His rashness made her sometimes quiver all over with +positive fright when she thought of it. He was running a terrible +risk--and for what cause? At first, simply because he wanted to see his +daughter; now because he fancied that he had found a clue to the +murderer of Sydney Vane--a slight, faint, elusive clue, but one which +seemed to him worth following up. And Cynthia, who at first had +hesitated to leave England, would now have been glad to start with him +at once, if only she could get him away. She began to fear that he would +stay at any risk. + +"You are losing your beauty, child," Madame della Scala had +discontentedly said to her that morning at breakfast-time; "you have +grown ten years older in the last week. And it is the height of the +season, and you have dozens of engagements! To-night, now, you sing at +Lady Beauclerc's--do you not?" + +"Yes, Madame; but I shall be all right by that time. I have a headache +this morning." + +"You are too white, child, and your eyes are heavy. It does not suit +your style to be colorless. You had better get my maid to attend to you, +before you go out to-night. She is incomparable at complexions." + +"Thank you--I shall not need rouge when I begin to sing," said Cynthia, +laughing rather joylessly; "the color will come of itself." + +"I know one who always used to bring it," said Madame, casting a sharp +glance at the girl's pale face. "He had it in his pocket, I suppose, or +at the tips of his fingers--and I never saw it fail with you. Where is +the magician gone, Cynthia _mia_? Where is Mr. Lepel--_ce bel homme_ who +brought the rouge in his pocket? Why, the very mention of his name does +wonders! The beautiful red color is back again now!" + +"I do not know where Mr. Lepel is," said Cynthia, wishing heartily that +her cheeks would not betray her. + +"You have not quarrelled?" + +"I do not know, Madame." + +"Ah, then, you have! But you are a very silly child, and ought to know +better after all that you have gone through. Quarrelling with Mr. Lepel +means quarrelling with your bread-and-butter, as you English people term +it. Why not keep on good terms with him until your training, at any +rate, is complete?" + +Cynthia raised her dark eyes, with a new light in them. + +"I am to be friendly with him as long as I need his help? Is that it, +Madame? I do not quite agree with you; and I think the time has come +when I must be independent now." + +"Independent! What can you do?" said Madame, throwing up her hands. "A +baby like you--with that face and that voice! You want very careful +guarding, my dear, or you will spoil your career. You must not think of +independence for the next ten years." + +Cynthia meditated a little. She did not want to tell Madame della +Scala, who was a confirmed chatterer, that she thought of going to +America; and yet, knowing that her departure would probably be sudden +and secret, she did not want to omit the opportunity of saying a few +necessary words. + +"If I took any steps of which you did not approve, dear Madame, I hope +that you would forgive me and believe that I was truly grateful to you +for all your kindness to me." + +"What does that mean?" said Madame shrewdly. "Are you going to be +married, _cara mia_? Is an elopement in store for us? _Dio mio_, there +will be a fine fuss about it in the newspapers if you do anything +extraordinary! You are becoming the fashion, my dear, as they say in +England; and, when you are the fashion, your success is assured." + +"I am not going to do anything extraordinary," said Cynthia, forcing a +smile, "and I do not mean to elope with anybody, dear Madame; I only +wanted to thank you for all that you have done for me. And now I must +practise for the evening. Perhaps music will do my headache good." + +But, even if music benefited her head, it did not raise her spirits. +Each time that the postman's knock vibrated through the house, her heart +beat so violently that she was obliged to pause in her singing until she +had ascertained that no letter had come for her. No letter--no message +from either Hubert or her father--what did this silence mean? + +The day wore on drearily. She would not go out, much to Madame's +vexation; she practised, she tried to read, she looked at her +dresses--she tried all the usual feminine arts for passing time, going +so far even as to take up some needlework, which she generally detested; +but, in spite of all, the day was cruelly long and blank. She dined +early in the afternoon, as she was going to sing that evening; and it +was about seven o'clock that she resolved to go and dress for the party +to which she was bound, saying to herself that all hope was over for +that day--that she was not likely to hear from Hubert Lepel that night. + +Just as she was going up-stairs a knock came to the door. She lingered +on the landing, wondering whether any visitor had come for her; and it +was with a great leap of the heart that she heard her own name +mentioned, and saw the maid running up the stairs to overtake her +before she reached her room. + +"It's Jenkins--Mr. Lepel's man, miss," said Mary breathlessly; "and he +wants to know if he can speak to you for a moment." + +Cynthia was half-way down-stairs before the sentence was out of the +girl's mouth. Jenkins was standing in the hall. He was an +amiable-looking fellow, and, although he had spoken flippantly enough to +Sabina Meldreth of his master's friendship for Miss West, he had a +genuine admiration for her. Cynthia had won his heart by kindly words +and looks; she had found out that he had a wife and some young children, +and had made them presents, and visited the new baby in her own +inimitably frank, gracious, friendly way; and Jenkins was secretly of +opinion that his master could not do better than marry Miss Cynthia +West, although she was but a singer after all. He spoke to her with an +air of great deference. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I thought that I'd better come and tell +you about Mr. Lepel." + +"Have you a message--a note?" cried Cynthia eagerly. + +"No, ma'am. Mr. Lepel's not able to write, nor to send messages. Mr. +Lepel's ill in bed, ma'am, and the doctor's afraid that it is +brain-fever." + +Cynthia gasped a little. + +"I thought he--he must be ill," she said, rather to herself than to +Jenkins, who however heard, and was struck with sympathetic emotion +immediately. + +"I thought you'd think so, ma'am; and therefore I made so bold as to +look round," he said respectfully. "He's not been himself, so to speak, +for the last few days; and when his sister--Mrs. Vane--was up from +Beechfield to see him, he seemed took worse; and Mrs. Vane she sent me +for a doctor." + +"Is Mrs. Vane with him now, then?" Cynthia asked quickly. + +"No, ma'am. She did not stop long; but I expect that she'll be round +either to-night or to-morrow morning." + +"And is Mr. Lepel to have nobody to nurse him?" asked Cynthia +indignantly. + +"There's my wife, ma'am, who is used to nursing; and, if my master is +worse, a trained nurse can be sent for. I thought you would like to +know, ma'am. I've been talking to the landlady, and she's quite +agreeable for my wife to come on for a bit and help to wait on Mr. +Lepel. She's there now." + +"I am very much obliged to you for coming, Jenkins." + +"I thought, ma'am," continued Jenkins, "that, if ever you was passing +that way, you might like to look in maybe to ask after Mr. Lepel, you +know. If you was good enough always to ask for my wife, you see, ma'am, +she could tell you how my master was, or any news about him." + +Cynthia grasped the situation at once, and felt her face flush as she +listened to the man's awkward kindly words. Evidently Jenkins knew that +she was unacquainted with Mr. Lepel's family, and was trying to save her +from the unpleasantness of meeting any of them unexpectedly. The thought +gave her a moment's bitter humiliation; then she saw the kindliness of +the motive and felt a throb of gratitude. + +"It is very good of you to tell me that, Jenkins," she said, frankly +putting out her hand to him, "and I am very much obliged to you. I shall +come to-morrow; it is impossible for me to come to-night." + +Jenkins was not accustomed to have his hand shaken by those whom he +served, and Cynthia's action embarrassed him considerably. He was glad +when she went on to ask a question. + +"Do you think that Mr. Lepel is very--very ill?" There was a pathetic +tremor in her voice. + +"Well, ma'am, he don't know nothing; he lies there and talks to +himself--that's all." + +"He is unconscious! Oh!" cried Cynthia, as if the words had given her a +stab of pain. "Does he talk about any one--anything?" she asked +wistfully. + +"We can't tell much of what he says, ma'am. But I think he was mainly +anxious to see you. He kep' on sending messages to you; and that's +partly why I come round this evening." + +Cynthia wrung her hands. + +"And I can't go--at least to-night; and I must--I must!" + +"Don't you take on, ma'am," said Jenkins, evidently much moved by her +distress. "I wouldn't trouble about to-night if I was you. Mrs. Vane may +be there again, or the General, and a host o' folks. It would only +bother them, and do my master no good, if you went to-night. To-morrow +morning'll be the time. And now I must be going; for I could only get +away while my wife was there, and she wanted to get back to the children +by nine o'clock." + +So Jenkins took his leave, and Cynthia went up to her room to dress for +her party. + +What a mockery it seemed to her to don her pretty frock, her ornaments, +her flowers--to see herself a radiant vision of youth and loveliness in +her mirror--while all the time her heart was bleeding for her lover's +suffering, and he lay tossing upon a bed of sickness, calling vainly +upon her name! If she could have done as she liked, she would have +relinquished all her engagements and sought his bedside at once. +But--fortunately perhaps--she was bound, for many reasons, to sing at +Lady Beauclerc's party. Madame della Scala and others would be injured +in reputation, if not in pocket, should she fail to appear. And, +although she would not mind sacrificing her own interests, she could not +sacrifice those of her friends even for the sake of her love. + +She was said never to have looked so brilliant or sung so magnificently +before. There was a new strange touch of pathos in her eyes and +voice--something that stirred the hearts of those who heard. The new +vibration in her voice was put down to genius by her audience, and not +by any means to emotion. + +"That girl will equal Patti if she goes on like this," said one musical +amateur to another that evening. + +"But she won't go on like this," his friend replied. "She'll marry, or +break down, or something; she won't last; she won't be tied down to a +professional life--that's my prophecy. She'll bolt!" + +The amateur laughed him to scorn. But he had reason to alter his tone +when some years later his friend reminded him of his prediction, and +coupled it with the information that Cynthia West's last appearance as a +singer had been at Lady Beauclerc's party. She never sang in public +again. + +But she had no idea, during the evening in question, that it was +absolutely her last appearance. Her mind had never been so much set on a +professional career as it was just then. She meant to go to America +with her father certainly, but to take engagements as a vocalist in the +States. That she was at all likely to cease work so suddenly and so soon +never once occurred to her. + +She was glad when the evening was over--glad to get back to her own +quiet room, and to lay certain plans for the morrow. She would go to +Hubert in the morning--not to stay of course, but to see whether he was +well nursed and tended; and she would take with her the ornaments that +he had presented to her, and which she had meant to give back. She would +get Mrs. Jenkins to put them away for her in some safe drawer or box; +and, when he was better, he would find them and understand. She would +accept nothing more from his hands. Yet, with all her pride and her +sense of injured dignity, she wept half the night at the thought that he +was suffering and that she could do nothing to alleviate his pain. + +She set off the next morning, between nine and ten o'clock, with a +little black bag in her hand. It was larger than she needed it to be for +mere conveyance of the jewelry which she wanted to restore; but she +meant to fill it with fruit--black tempting grapes and red-cheeked +hot-house peaches--for the invalid before she reached the house. She +left word with Mary that she did not know when she would return, and +that Madame was not to wait luncheon or dinner on her account. This +message, and the fact of her carrying away a bag, led some persons to +believe that she was acting a part in a long-premeditated scheme when +she left Madame della Scala's house that morning. But no scheme was +present in any shape or form to Cynthia's mind. + +She did not at once see a hansom, and therefore she walked for a few +yards along the broad pavement of the Bayswater Road, where at that hour +not many passers-by were to be encountered. And here, to her great +surprise, she met her father--but a father so changed, so utterly +transformed in appearance, that she would not have known him but for his +voice. He wore an overcoat that she had never seen before, and a tall +hat; he had got rid of the white hair and beard, and had even shaved off +his whiskers; he remained a lean, brown-faced, resolute-looking man, +more refined, but decidedly more commonplace, than he had been before. +This man would pass easily in a crowd; people used to stop and gaze +after Reuben Dare. + +"Oh, I am so thankful--so glad!" cried Cynthia, when the meaning of the +change burst upon her. "Nobody would recognise you now, father; your own +face is a greater disguise than any amount of snowy hair. What made you +alter yourself in this way?" + +"Cynthia," said her father, drawing her into a quiet little side-street, +and speaking in low earnest tones, "I have been a great fool! I wish I +had taken your advice earlier. That woman Meldreth suspects me. For +aught I know, I am already watched and followed. There is not a moment +to lose. If I mean to escape, I'd better get out of the country as fast +as I can--or find some snug corner where I can lie close until they have +left off looking for me. There is a cab--a four-wheeler. Let us get into +that, and we can talk as we go. I don't see any one who appears to be +dogging me at present. Where were you going?" + +"I will go wherever you go, father," said Cynthia. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +Westwood was silent until he found himself with his daughter inside the +cab. + +"Where did you tell him to go?" he then asked of her. + +"To St. Pancras Station. I thought that we could more easily evade +watchers at a big railway-station than anywhere else." + +"They will watch the stations," said the man. "I may have got the start, +and I may not. The stations are hardly safe." + +"Let the man drive on for a few minutes while you tell me the reason why +you think you are watched," said Cynthia, suspecting panic; "he cannot +be going far out of the way, and, if we change our minds we can tell him +so presently." + +"Well," said Westwood, evidently recovering nerve and self-possession +under the influence of his daughter's calmer manner and speaking in an +easier tone, "it's that woman Meldreth--she is a spy. Who do you think +came to her house yesterday but Mrs. Vane? The very woman who has most +reason to dread me and to wish to get me shut up in prison, if my idea +of her is true! I think she wanted to see me with her own eyes. She +looked at me as if she would read me through and through." + +"Where did you meet her, father?" + +"In the street. I was asked to show her Mrs. Gunn's house. It was pure +accident of course, but it gave us an opportunity of looking at each +other." + +"Did you go back to the house after that?" + +"Yes, I did, my girl, because I had left my portmanteau there with +papers and money, without which I should soon be in 'Queer Street.' Yes, +I went back, and found Mrs. Vane gone. But the Meldreth woman had a +queer look about her, and I suspected what she was about, though I don't +know that I could have balked her but for my peculiar constitution. +Sleeping-stuff don't have no effect on me, my dear--it never had. They +tried it in the prison when I was there at first, and couldn't sleep for +thinking of the woods and the open fields and my own little girl--and it +nearly drove me mad. Sabina Meldreth gave me some sleeping-stuff in my +tea last night." + +"What for, father?" + +"That's what I wanted to know. When I felt the old pricks and twitches +beginning, I pretended to be very sleepy, and I lay down on the sofa and +went off, as she thought, into a deep slumber. Presently she came in, +and--what do you think, Cynthy?--she began to examine my hair and beard! +Of course she soon saw that it would come off; and then she laughed a +little to herself. 'Twenty pounds for this job,' she said--'and more +perhaps afterwards. I wonder what Mrs. Vane's up to now? I'll be off to +her first thing to-morrow morning. It's somebody she's got a spite +against, I'll be bound!' And then she went away and left me alone, +having done her work." + +"So then you came away?" + +"Not immediate, my girl. I was off at five o'clock this morning. I got +shaved at a little place in Gray's Inn Road--after disposing of my wig +and beard elsewhere, you know; and I bought this rig-out at two +different places in Holborn. Then I breakfasted at a coffee-stall and +came on here. They'll only just have found out that I've gone by now--if +indeed so soon--unless they have found it out accidental-like." + +"The woman--Meldreth is her name?--would not know what to do without +consulting Mrs. Vane first, would she?" + +"No. But then we don't know where Mrs. Vane is--she may have been in the +house all the time for aught we know." + +"I think not," said Cynthia decisively. "She would have come herself to +look at you when Miss Meldreth was examining your hair if she had been +in the house." + +"Well, perhaps she would. You've got a head on your shoulders, +Cynthia--that you have! Miss Meldreth would have to get to Mrs. Vane and +tell her this morning, as she said; then Mrs. Vane would let the police +know. That gives us till about eleven or twelve o'clock." + +"Two hours' start. Is not that sufficient?" + +Westwood shook his head. + +"The first thing they will do is to telegraph to all the ports." + +"But you look so different now, father! And I can make myself look quite +different too." + +"You! Why, you don't suppose I am going to let you come with me?" + +"Oh, yes, father dear, I cannot leave you now!" + +"It would be madness, Cynthia. You are well known, and you would be too +easily recognised. Everybody turns to look at a handsome girl like you." + +"If you can disguise yourself, so can I." + +"We have not time for that. Besides, why do you want to leave England so +soon and so suddenly?" + +"Oh, I don't--I don't!" said Cynthia, suddenly trembling and clinging to +him. "Only I can't bear the idea of your being without me now when you +are in danger." + +"I can send for you, my lass, when I am safe. You will come then?" + +"Yes, father." + +"You'll come straight, without waiting for any good-byes or to tell any +one where you are going?" + +"Yes, father--unless----" + +"Well? Unless what?" + +"Father, Mr. Lepel is very ill. They say that he has brain-fever. If he +were dying, you would let me wait to say good-bye to him?" + +She had put her hand through his arm, and was leaning against his +shoulder. Her father looked at her sideways, with a rough pity mingled +with admiration. + +"Were you going to him now, Cynthia?" + +"Yes, father." + +"I've interrupted you. It's hard on you to have a father like me +although he is an innocent man." + +"I honor my father and I love him," was Cynthia's swift response. "My +greatest grief is that he cannot be near me always." + +There was a silence; the cab had quitted the smoother roads and entered +on a course of rattling stones. It was difficult to speak so as to be +heard; but Westwood raised his voice. + +"Cynthia!" + +"Yes, father." + +"It seems to me that you need watching over as much as ever you did when +you was a little baby-girl. I don't see why you should be abandoned in +your need any more than you're willing to abandon me. If I can be any +sort of help to you, I won't try to leave London at all. I can hide away +somewhere no doubt as other folks have done. There are places at the +East-end where no one would notice me. Shall I stay, Cynthia?" + +"Dear father! No, you will be no help to me--no comfort--if you are in +danger!" + +He put his arm round her and pressed her close to him; but he did not +speak again until they reached the station. The streets were noisy, and +conversation was well-nigh impossible. When they got out, Cynthia paid +the cabman and dismissed him. Her father walked forward, glancing round +him suspiciously as he went. It was a quarter to eleven o'clock. Cynthia +joined him in a dark corner of the great entrance-hall. + +"I will take your ticket," she said, "where will you go?" + +Westwood hesitated for a moment. + +"It's not safe, Cynthia. I will not go at all. I should only be arrested +at the other end; I am sure of it. I'll tell you what we will do. You +may go and take a ticket for Liverpool and bring it to me--in full view +of that policeman there, who is eyeing us so suspiciously. Then you must +say 'good-bye' and walk straight out of the station. I will mingle with +the crowd on the platform; but I will not go by train--I'll slip +eastward and lose myself in Whitechapel. I've made up my mind--I don't +start for Liverpool to-day." + +"Perhaps you are right," said Cynthia, in a faltering voice. "But how +shall I know where you are?" + +"Better for you not to know, my dear. I shall put them off the scent in +this way, and you will have no idea of what has become of me. Now get my +ticket and say good-bye--as affectionate and as public as you like. It +will all tell in the long run; that bobby has his eye on us." + +Cynthia did as she was desired. Her father kissed her pale, agitated +face several times, and made his adieux rather unnecessarily +conspicuous. Then Cynthia left the station, and her father made his way +to the platform, where he mingled with the crowd, and finally got away +by another door, and turned his face towards the illimitable east of +London. + +Cynthia did not take a cab again. It was a relief to her to walk, and +she was in a neighborhood that she knew very well. She turned into +Euston Square, then down Woburn Place, and through Tavistock Square to +Russell Square. She could not stay away from Hubert any longer. + +She knew the house--it was the place to which she had come one autumn +day when Mr. Lepel wanted to hear her sing. She had never been there +since. The square looked strangely different to her; the trees in the +garden, in spite of their green livery, gave no beauty to the scene. It +was as cheerless and as dark as it had been on the cold autumnal morning +when she had gone to learn her fate from the critic's lips; and yet the +sun was shining now, and the sky overhead was blue. But Cynthia's heart +was sadder than it had been in the days of her friendlessness and +poverty. + +She rang the bell and asked for Mrs. Jenkins, who appeared almost at +once and led the girl into Hubert's deserted sitting-room. + +"Oh, miss, I'm so glad you have come!" she said. "For we can't get Mr. +Lepel to be quiet at all, and we were just on the point of sending off +for you, because he calls for you constant, and the doctor, he says, +'could you get the lady that he talks about to come and sit beside him +for a little time? That might calm him,' he says; 'and if we calm him, +we may save his life.'" + +"Oh, is he so ill as that?" cried Cynthia. + +"He couldn't be much worse, miss, the doctor says. Can you stay, miss, +now you're here? Just for an hour or two at any rate!" + +"I can stay as long as I can be of any use," said the girl desperately. +"Nobody wants me--nobody will ask for me; it is better for me to be +here." + +The words fell unheeded on Mrs. Jenkins' ears. All that she cared about +was the welfare of her husband's employer. Both Jenkins and his wife +adored Mr. Lepel, and the thought that he might die in his illness had +been agony to them--and not on their own account alone. They genuinely +believed in Miss West's power of soothing and calming him, and Mrs. +Jenkins could not do enough for the girl's comfort. + +"You'll take off your things here, miss, will you not? And then I'll +take you to Mr. Lepel's own room. But wouldn't you like a glass of wine +or a cup of tea or something before you go in? You look terrible tired +and harassed like, miss; and what you are going to see isn't exactly +what will do you good. Poor Mr. Lepel he do look dreadful--and that's +the long and the short of it!" + +"I don't want anything, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins," said Cynthia, faintly +smiling; "and I should like to go to Mr. Lepel at once." + +"Have you ever seen anything of sick people, miss, or done any nursing?" + +"Never, Mrs. Jenkins." + +"Don't be too frightened then, miss, when you first see Mr. Lepel. +People with fevers often look worse than they really are." + +Cynthia set her lips; if she was frightened, she would not show it, she +resolved. + +Then, after some slight delay, she was admitted to Hubert's room; and +there, in spite of her resolution, at first she stood aghast. + +It startled her to perceive that, although she knew his face so well, +she might not have recognised it in an unaccustomed place. It was +discolored, and the eyes were bloodshot and wandering; the hair had been +partially cut away from his head, and the stubble of an unshaven beard +showed itself on cheeks and chin. Any romance that might have existed in +the mind of a girl of twenty concerning her lover's illness was struck +dead at once and forever. He was ill--terribly ill and delirious; he +looked at her with a madman's eyes, and his face was utterly changed; +his voice too, as he raised it in the constant stream of incoherent talk +that escaped his lips, was hoarse and rasping and unnatural. Anything +less interesting, less attractive to a weak soul than this delirious +fever-stricken man could not well be imagined; but Cynthia's soul was +anything but weak. + +She was conscious that never in her life had she loved Hubert Lepel so +intensely, so devotedly as she loved him now. Something of the maternal +instinct awakened within her at the sight of his great need. He had no +one to minister to his more subtle wants--no one to tend him out of pure +love and sympathy. The man Jenkins, who sat beside the bed, ready to +hold him down if in his delirium he should attempt to throw himself out +of the window, was awkward and uncouth in a sick-room. Mrs. Jenkins, +although ready and willing to help, was longing to steal away to her +little children at home. The landlady down-stairs had announced that she +could not possibly undertake to wait upon an invalid. All these facts +became clear to Cynthia in a very little time. She saw, as soon as she +entered the room, that the window-blind was awry and the curtains were +wrongly hung, that the table and the chest of drawers were crowded with +an untidy array of bottles, cups and glasses, and that the whole aspect +of the place was desolate. This fact did not concern her at present +however; her attention was given wholly and at once to the sick man. + +She stood for a minute or two at the foot of the bed, realising with a +pang the fact that he did not know her. His eyes rested upon her as he +spoke; but there was no recognition in them. She could not hear all he +said; but, between strings of incoherent words and unintelligible +phrases, some sentences caught her ear. + +"She will not come," said the sick man--"she has given me up entirely! +Quite right too! The world would say that she was perfectly right. And I +am in the wrong--always--I have always been wrong; and there is no way +out of it. Some one said that to me once--no way out of it--no way out +of it--no way out of it--oh, Heaven!" + +The sentence ended with a moan of agony which made Cynthia writhe with +pain. + +"He's always saying that," Jenkins whispered to her--"'No way out of +it!' He keeps coming back to that as if--as if there was something on +his mind." + +Cynthia raised her hand to silence him. The torrent of words broke out +again. + +"It was not all my fault. It was Flossy's fault; but one cannot betray a +woman, one's sister--can one? Even she would say that. But she has gone +away, and she will never come back again. Cynthia--Cynthia! I might call +as long as I pleased--she would never come. Why don't you fetch her, +some of you? So many people here, and nobody will bring Cynthia to me! +Cynthia, Cynthia, my love!" + +"I am here, dear--I am here, beside you," said Cynthia. + +But he did not seem to understand. She touched his hot hand with her +own, and smoothed his fevered brow. The restless tongue went on. + +"She has given me up, and I shall never see her any more! She gave me +too hard a task; I could not do it--not all at once. It is done now. +Yes, I have done it, and it has divided us for ever. Why did you make me +speak, Cynthia? He was not miserable--he was happy. But I am to be +miserable for ever and ever now. There is no way out of the misery--no +way out of it--darkness and loneliness all my life, and worse +afterwards. Cynthia, Cynthia, you are sending me to perdition!" + +He half rose from his bed, and made as if he would struggle with her. +Jenkins came to the rescue; but Cynthia would not move aside. + +"Lie down, dearest," she was saying--"lie down and rest. Cynthia is +here--Cynthia is with you; she will never leave you any more unless you +send her away. Lie down, my darling, and try to rest." + +He did not understand the words; but the sweet rhythm of her voice +caught his ear. He fell back upon the pillows, staring, helpless, +subdued. She kept her cool hand upon his brow. + +"Is that Cynthia?" he said suddenly. + +"Yes, dearest, it is Cynthia." + +"How kind of her to come!" said Hubert, looking away from the girl as if +Cynthia were on the other side of the room. "But she should not look so +angrily at me. I have done what I could, you know. It is all right now, +Cynthia, I have done what I could--I have saved him--indeed I have! +I'll take the punishment--no way out of it but that! A life sentence--a +life sentence for me!" + +The words died away upon his lips in a confused babble that they could +not understand. He murmured inarticulately for a time, but there came +long pauses between the words, his eyelids drooped a little, and he grew +perceptibly less flushed. In about half an hour the doctor came into the +room. He cast a swift look at Cynthia, and another at his patient; then +he nodded sagaciously. + +"Better," he said curtly. "I thought so. Some more ice, Jenkins. He has +been quieter since you came, I conclude, madam?" + +Cynthia bowed her head. + +"You are the lady for whom he has been asking so often? I know your +face--Miss Cynthia West, I believe? Can you stay?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, without hesitation. + +"If you keep him as quiet as that, you will save his life," said the +doctor; and then he beckoned Jenkins out of the sick-room, and gave him +various stringent orders and recommendations--to all which Jenkins lent +an attentive if a somewhat puzzled ear. + +The doctor looked in again before he went away. Mr. Lepel was lying back +on his pillows, perfectly motionless and silent; Miss West, kneeling +beside the bed, still kept one hand on his, while with the other she put +cooling applications to his head or merely laid her hand upon his +forehead. As long as she was touching him the patient seemed perfectly +content. And again the doctor nodded--and this time he also smiled. + +So passed the hours of that long summer day. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +When the light was fading a little, there was a new sound in Hubert +Lepel's sick-room--the rustle of a silk dress, the tripping of little +high-heeled shoes across the floor. Cynthia looked round hastily, ready +to hush the intruder; for Hubert was much quieter than he had been, and +only murmured incoherent sentences from time to time. A fresh outburst +of delirium was of all things to be warded off if possible, and there +was a faint hope that he might sleep. If he slept, his life, humanly +speaking, was saved. But it was hardly likely that sleep would come so +soon. + +Cynthia looked round, prepared to rebuke the new-comer--for she had +taken upon herself all the authority of nurse and queen-regent in the +sick man's room; but her eyes fell upon a stranger whose face was yet +not altogether unknown to her. She had seen it years before in the +Beechfield lanes; she remembered it vaguely without knowing to whom it +belonged. In her earlier years at school that face had stood in her +imagination as the type of all that was cold and cruel and fair in +ancient song or story, fable or legend. It had figured as Medusa--as +Circe; the wonderful wicked woman of the Middle Ages had come to her in +visions with just such subtle eyes, such languorous beauty, such fair +white skin and yellow hair; the witch-woman of her weirdest dream had +had the look of Florence Lepel; just as Hubert's far different features, +with the dark melancholy expression of suffering stamped upon them, had +stood for her as those of Fouque's ideal knights, or of Sintram riding +through the dark valley, of Lancelot sinning and repenting, of saint, +hero, martyr, paladin, in turn, until she grew old enough to banish such +foolish dreams. She had been a strangely imaginative child; and these +two faces seemed to have haunted her all her life. That of her hero lay +beside her, stricken with illness, fevered, insensible; that of the evil +woman--for this Cynthia instinctively believed Florence Vane to +be--confronted her with a strange, mocking, malignant smile. + +Cynthia put up her hand. + +"Hush!" she said quietly. "He is not to be disturbed." + +"Are you the nurse?" said Mrs. Vane's cool light voice. + +"I am a friend," replied Cynthia quietly. "If you wish to talk to me, I +will come into the other room." + +"Upon my word, you take things very calmly!" said Florence. "I really +never dreamt---- It is a most embarrassing situation!" + +But she did not look embarrassed in the least; neither did Cynthia. + +A heavier step on the boards now made itself heard, and the General's +face, ruddy and framed in venerable gray hairs, pressed forward over his +wife's shoulder. + +"Oh, dear--oh, dear--this is very bad!" he grumbled, either to himself +or to Flossy. "Poor lad--poor lad! He looks very ill--he does indeed!" + +Flossy came closer to the bed. As soon as she drew near, her brother +seemed to grow uneasy; he began to turn his head from side to side, to +move his hands, and to mutter incoherent words. + +"You disturb him," said Cynthia, looking at Mrs. Vane. "The Doctor says +that he must be kept perfectly quiet. Will you kindly go into the other +room, and, if you want me, I will come to you." + +"We are not particularly likely to want you, young woman," said Florence +coldly. "If you are not a qualified nurse, I do not see why you should +try to turn Mr. Lepel's own sister out of the room. It is your place to +go--not mine." + +For all answer, Cynthia turned again to Hubert, and began applying ice +to his fevered head. She seemed absorbed by her task, and took no +further notice of the visitors. For once Flossy felt herself a little +quelled. + +She turned to Mrs. Jenkins, who had followed her into the room. + +"Has not the doctor procured a proper nurse yet for Mr. Lepel?" she +said. + +Mrs. Jenkins fidgeted, and looked at Cynthia. + +"The young lady," she said at last, "seems to be doing all that is +required, ma'am. The doctor says as we couldn't do better." + +"In that case, my dear," said the pacific General, "I think that we had +better not interfere with existing arrangements. We will go back to the +hotel and inquire again in the morning." + +"Go back to the hotel, and leave that person in possession?" cried +Flossy, with fine and virtuous scorn. "Are you mad, General? I will not +put up with such a thing for a moment! She will go out of this house +before I go!" + +These words reached Cynthia's ears. The girl simply smiled. The smile +said, as plainly as words could have done, that she would not leave +Hubert Lepel's rooms unless she was taken away from them by force. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Jenkins was whispering and explaining, the General was +expostulating, and Flossy waxed apparently more and more irate every +moment. Cynthia, with her hand on Hubert's pulse, felt it growing +faster; his incoherent words were spoken with energy; he was beginning +to raise his head from the pillow and gaze about him with wild excited +eyes. She turned sharply towards the visitors. + +"Go into the other room at once!" she said, with sudden decision. "You +have aroused him already--you have done him harm! Keep silence or go, if +you wish to save his life!" + +The passionate ring of her voice, low though it was, had its effect. The +General stopped short in a sentence; Mrs. Jenkins looked at the bed with +a frightened air; Flossy, with an impatient gesture, walked towards the +sitting-room. But at the door she paused and looked back at Cynthia, +whose eyes were still fixed upon her. What there was in that look +perhaps no one else could see; but it magnetised Cynthia. The girl rose +from her knees, gently withdrew her hand from Hubert's nerveless +fingers, and signed to Mrs. Jenkins to take her place. Then, after +watching for a moment to see that the patient lay quietly and did not +seem distressed by her departure, she followed Mrs. Vane into the other +room. The General hovered about the door, uncertain whether to go or to +remain. + +The two women faced each other silently. They were both beautiful, but +they bore no likeness one to the other. + +There could not have been a more complete contrast than that presented +by Florence Vane and Cynthia Westwood as they confronted each other in +the dim light of Hubert's sitting-room. Cynthia stood erect, looking +very tall and pale in her straight black gown; her large dark eyes were +heavy from fatigue and grief, her lips had taken a pathetic downward +curve, and her dusky hair had been pushed back carelessly from her fine +brow. There was a curious dignity about her--a dignity which seemed to +proceed chiefly from her own absence of self-consciousness, swallowed up +as this had been in the depth of a great sorrow. Opposite to her stood +Florence, self-conscious and alert in every nerve and vein, but hiding +her agitation under an exterior of polished grace and studiedly haughty +courtesy, her fair beauty framed in an admirable setting of exquisite +colors and textures, her whole appearance indescribably dainty and +delicate, like that of some rare Eastern bird which hesitates where to +set its foot in a strange place. + +Thus the two saw each other; and Flossy felt vaguely that Cynthia ought +to be at a disadvantage, but that in some strange and miraculous manner +she was not. Indeed it was Cynthia who took the lead and spoke first. + +"If you wish to speak to me," she said, "I am here; but I cannot leave +Mr. Lepel for long." + +"I have no wish to speak--necessity alone compels me," said Mrs. Vane, +giving the girl a haughty stare from under her half-closed eyelids. "I +am compelled, I fear, to ask you a few questions. I presume that a nurse +is coming?" + +"I think not. The doctor said that he need not send one so long as +Jenkins and I were here." + +"And pray how long do you mean to remain here?" + +"As long as he has need of me." + +"You are under a mistake," said Mrs. Vane loftily. "Mr. Lepel did not +send for you, I believe?" + +"He called for me in his delirium," answered Cynthia, whose eyes were +beginning to be lighted up as if from an inward fire. "He is quiet only +when I am here." + +Flossy laughed derisively. + +"A good reason! Is he not quiet now, with the woman Jenkins at his side? +You will perhaps allow that his relatives--his family--have some right +to attend to him during his illness; and I must really say very +plainly--since you compel me to do so--that I should prefer to see him +nursed by a professional nurse, and not by a young girl whose very +presence here is a scandal to all propriety." + +Cynthia drew herself up to her full height. + +"I think I can scarcely understand you," she said. "I am acting under +the doctor's orders, and am here by his authority. There can be no +scandal in that. When Mr. Lepel is conscious and can spare me, I will +go." + +"Spare you! He will be only too glad to spare you!" cried Mrs. Vane. "I +do not know what your connection with him has been--I do not want to +know"--the insinuation conveyed by her tone and manner was felt by +Cynthia to be in itself an insult; "but this I am fully convinced of, +that my poor brother could not possibly have known that you were the +daughter of that wretched criminal, Andrew Westwood--the man who +murdered Sydney Vane! If he had known that, he would never have wished +to see your face again!" + +She saw the girl wince, as if she had received a cut with a whip, and +for a moment she triumphed. + +The General, who was just inside the room, listening anxiously to the +conversation, now came to her aid. He stepped forward hurriedly, his +face growing crimson, his lower jaw working, his eyes seeming to turn in +his head as he heard the words. + +"What is that? What--this young person the daughter of Westwood the +murderer? Abominable! What business has she here? It is an insult to us +all!" + +Cynthia turned upon him like a wild animal at bay, defiance flashing in +her mournful magnificent dark eyes. + +"My presence insults you less than the words Mrs. Vane has spoken insult +me!" she cried, tossing back her head with the proud stag-like gesture +which Hubert had learned to know so well. "She is more cruel than I ever +thought one woman could be to another! She must know that I have nothing +to reproach myself with--that my life is as pure as hers--purer, if all +one hears is true." She could not deny herself the vengeful taunt, but +was recalled to her better self when she saw Florence blanch under it +and suddenly draw back. "But about myself I do not choose to speak. Of +my father I will say one word--to you, sir, who I am sure will be just +at least to one who craves only for justice--my father, sir, was +innocent of the crime for which he was condemned; and some day his +innocence will be manifested before all eyes. Mr. Lepel knows--he knew +before he was taken ill--that I am Andrew Westwood's daughter. I told +him a few days ago." + +"And he was so much horrified by the news that this illness is the +result. I see now," said Mrs. Vane coolly, "why this break down has +taken place. The poor boy, General, has been so harassed and overcome by +the discovery that his brain has for the time being given way. And yet +this girl pretends that he wants her to remain!" + +"I appeal to the doctor!" said Cynthia, suddenly turning as white as +Florence herself had done. "If he supports me, you will yield to his +decision? If he says that I am not necessary here, I will go. I have no +wish to inflict my presence on those to whom it is unwelcome." + +She glanced proudly from Mrs. Vane to the General. The old man was much +perturbed. He was walking about the room, muttering to himself, his lips +protruding, his brow wrinkled with anger and disgust. + +"Too bad--too bad!" Cynthia heard him say. "Westwood's daughter--nursing +Hubert too! Tut, tut--a bad business this!" + +Cynthia resolved upon a bold stroke--she would address him. + +"Sir," she said, taking a step towards him, "will you listen to me for a +moment? I promise you that I will go if the doctor says that I am not +wanted. You need not fear that I shall force myself upon you. I only ask +you to forgive me the fact of being my father's daughter until Mr. Lepel +is a little stronger--if the doctor says that I must not leave him yet. +When he is better, I vow--I swear that you shall see and hear no more of +me! I shall leave the country, and you will never be troubled by me +again. But, till then, have pity! Let me help to nurse him; he has been +my best friend in the whole world, and I have never yet been able to do +anything for him! When he is better, I will go away. Till then, for +pity's sake, sir, let me stay!" + +Her voice broke; she clasped her hands before her and held down her head +to hide her tears. The General, brought to a sudden stop by her appeal +to him, eyed her with a mixture of native pity and long-cultivated +detestation. He could not but be sorry for her, although she was +Westwood's daughter and, by all reports, not much better perhaps than +she should be; for he firmly believed in the truth of all Flossy's +malignant hints and innuendos. But Cynthia was a handsome woman, and the +General was weak; he could not bear to see a handsome woman cry. + +"My good girl," he stammered--and then Flossy's significant smile made +him stammer all the more--"my girl, I--I do not wish to blame +you--personally, of course--not your fault at all--we can't help its +being painful, you know." + +"Painful--yes," cried Cynthia eagerly; "but pain is sometimes necessary! +You will not drive me away from Hubert's bedside if I can be of any use +to him?" + +"No, no--I suppose not," said the General, melting in spite of himself. +"I wouldn't for the world do anything to harm poor Hubert. Suppose we +hear what the doctor says?" + +Cynthia's hand was on the bell immediately, and Jenkins showed himself +at the door without delay. + +"Jenkins," she said, "it is very important that we should have the +doctor here at once. Mrs. Vane--General Vane--want----" + +"Give your own orders, General," said Flossy abruptly. She could not +lose a chance of annoying and insulting Cynthia. + +"H'm, ha--the doctor, my man," said the General, rather taken aback by +the demand upon him--"get us the doctor as soon as you can. Tell +him--tell him that Mr. Lepel's relatives are here, and no doubt he will +come at once." + +There was a little silence in the room when Jenkins had disappeared upon +his errand. The General stood, with his hands clasped behind him, +looking out of a window; Mrs. Vane had sunk into a chair, in which she +lay back, her graceful neck turned aside, as if she wanted to avoid the +sight of Cynthia, who meanwhile stood upon the hearthrug, head bent and +hands folded, waiting gravely and patiently for what she felt to be the +decision on her fate. + +Presently Mrs. Vane moved a little, fixed her cold eyes on the +motionless figure before her, and spoke in tones so low that they did +not reach the General's ears. + +"What have you done with your father?" she asked. + +Cynthia raised her eyes to Mrs. Vane's face for a moment with a flash of +scorn in their lustrous depths. She made no other answer. + +"You need not think," said Florence deliberately, "that I do not know +where he has been until to-day. I know all about him." + +"Yes; you set your spies on him," said Cynthia, in equally low but +bitter tones. "I was aware of that." + +"I know of his movements up to eleven o'clock this morning, and so do +the police," said Mrs. Vane. "He came to you this morning--perhaps by +appointment, perhaps not--how do I know?--and you drove away with him to +St. Pancras Station. There you took his ticket to Liverpool--there you +said good-bye. Why did you not wait to see him off? The answer is easy +to read--because he never went to Liverpool at all. Did you think we +were children like yourself that you could throw dust in our eyes as +easily as that?" + +Cynthia's dilated eyes asked a question that her lips would not utter. +Flossy smiled. + +"You want to know if he has been taken?" she said. "Not yet; but he soon +will be. You should not have been seen with him if you wanted him to +escape. I suppose you were not aware that the relationship was known?" + +No, this certainly Cynthia had not known. + +"You have been the means of identifying him to the police," Mrs. Vane +went on, with the cruel smile still playing about her thin lips; +"otherwise we should hardly have been sure that he had changed his +disguise. I almost wonder that you never thought of that." + +Then Cynthia made a desperate attempt to stem the tide. + +"You are mistaken," she said--Mrs. Vane laughed softly. + +"You had better not try to tell lies about it--it is not your forte. +Brazen it out, as you have done hitherto, and you may succeed. A +detective has been to Madame della Scala's house already, and he will +probably find you out--if you stay here--before long. I am afraid that +you are not a very good hand at keeping a secret; but I have put you on +your guard, and you should thank me." + +"I do not thank you for torturing me," said Cynthia, with a hard dry sob +that seemed to be born of agony. "I would rather face all the police and +the magistrates of London than you! They will have no difficulty about +finding me. If I cannot stay here, I will go back to Madame's house." + +"Which you will find closed to you," said Flossy. "After the story that +she has heard, Madame della Scala refuses to receive you there again. +You seem to think very little of your father's crime, Miss Westwood; but +you will not find society condone it so easily." + +Cynthia's face flushed hotly, but she did not reply. + +"You had better go away," said Mrs. Vane, leaning forward and speaking +almost in a whisper. "Go, and tell no one where you are going--it will +be better for you. The police will be here before very long, and +possibly they may arrest you." + +"I do not think they can do that. No, I shall not hide myself." + +"It would be safer for your father," said Flossy, almost inaudibly. +"Listen--I will make a bargain with you. If you go, I will hide part of +my own knowledge--I will not let the woman Meldreth describe him +accurately--I will help you to put the detectives off the track; and, in +return, you will go away at once--where I care not--and never see Hubert +again. You may save your father then." + +"I will make no bargain with you," said Cynthia solemnly. She looked +straight into the white, subtle face--straight into the velvet-brown +languorous eyes, full now of a secret fear. "You forget that God +protects the innocent and punishes the guilty. I will stay with Hubert; +and God will defend my father and the right." + +"Your father will be hanged yet," said Flossy, turning away restlessly. +It was her only answer to the girl's courageous words. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +A little bustle was heard outside the door; and then the doctor came in. +He was a middle-aged man, tall, spare, thoughtful-looking, a little +abrupt in manner, but with a kindly face. He had not advanced two steps +into the room before he stopped short, held up his hand, and said-- + +"Hallo--what's that?" + +It was the patient's voice again uplifted in snatches of delirious talk. + +"Cynthia!" they distinctly heard him calling. "Where's Cynthia? Tell +Cynthia that she must come!" + +"And why are you not there?" said Doctor Middlemass, darting his finger +in Cynthia's direction. "Why don't you go to him at once? It's madness +to let him cry out like that!" + +Cynthia's look was piteous; but for the moment she did not move. + +"Would it not be better for a qualified nurse to be obtained for my +brother?" said Mrs. Vane. "This young--lady"--a perceptible pause +occurred before the word--"has had no experience in nursing; and it is +surely not necessary----" + +"Oh, doctor," the girl burst out, "must I not stay? I cannot go away +when he calls for me like that!" + +Her hands were strained on her bosom; her eyes had the hungry look of a +mother who hears her child cry aloud and cannot go to him. The doctor +shot a look at her pale tortured face, and observed the cold composure +of the finely-dressed lady in the arm-chair, and the subdued uneasiness +of the old gentleman in the background. He began to suspect a +tragedy--at any rate, a romance. + +"Go to him at once," he said to Cynthia, pointing to the bed-room door, +"and keep him quiet at any cost. A trained nurse would not do him half +the good that you can do him, if you choose. And now, madam," he +continued rather sternly, as Cynthia disappeared with a joyful face into +the other room, "may I ask what this interference with my orders may +mean?" + +"I am Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy coldly, "and it was I who sent +for you, Doctor Middlemass. I think I have some right to take an +interest in my brother's condition." + +"Certainly, madam"--the doctor spoke with portentous grimness and +formality--"but--excuse me--no right to tamper with any of my +prescriptions. I prescribed Miss West to my patient; and she was doing +him all the good in the world when I went away. He has got another +fever-fit upon him now, a little higher temperature, and we shall not be +able to do anything more for him at all. If you do not wish my orders to +be followed, madam, have the goodness to send for another doctor and I +will throw up the case." + +"You misunderstand, sir--you misunderstand!" said the General fussily, +coming forward with his most imposing air. "My wife and I, sir, have not +the slightest desire to interfere. We only wish to know what your +prescriptions are. That young woman, sir, has no right to be here at +all." + +"From what I have been told," said the doctor dryly, "I should have said +that she had the greatest possible right to be here; but, however, that +is no business of mine. She has a wonderfully soothing effect on Mr. +Lepel's condition, and, as long as she is here, he is quiet and +manageable. Listen! He is scarcely speaking at all now; her presence and +her touch have calmed him at once. It would be positive madness to take +her away!" + +"Would it not be well," said Mrs. Vane quietly, "to send a trained nurse +here too? There is a woman whom I know; she would be very glad to come, +and she would relieve that young lady of the more painful and onerous +portions of her task. I mean, dear," she said, looking towards her +husband, "old Mrs. Meldreth's daughter--Sabina. She is an efficient +nurse, and she has nothing to do just now." + +"Has she had experience in cases of brain-disease?" said Doctor +Middlemass snappishly. + +"I really do not know." She knew perfectly well that Sabina's knowledge +of nursing was of the most perfunctory kind. "She has had experience of +all kinds of illness, I believe, and she is thoroughly trustworthy. She +could be installed here as an attendant on Miss--Miss West." + +Attendant! "As spy" she meant, on all poor Cynthia's movements. + +"I should like to see the woman first," said the doctor bluntly. He was +not easy to manage, as Flossy swiftly perceived. "If she is competent +for the task, I have no objection--Miss West must not be allowed to +overdo herself; but I myself should prefer to send a person who is +accustomed to deal with illnesses of this kind." + +"As you please, of course," said Flossy. She saw that it would be of no +use to press Sabina Meldreth upon him, much as she would have liked to +secure the services of a spy and an informer in the house. As she +paused, the General came forward. + +"I should like to know, sir," he said, bristling with indignation, "what +you mean by saying that that young lady--that girl--has a right to be +here? I do not understand such language?" + +"Why, of course she has a right to be here," said the doctor, staring at +him in a purposely matter-of-fact way, "since she is the lady that he is +engaged to marry." + +"Marry! Bless my soul--no such thing!" roared the General, utterly +forgetting that there was an invalid in the adjoining room. "Why, he's +going to marry my----" + +"Dear Richard, hush, hush!" said his wife, laying her hand entreatingly +upon his arm. "Don't make such a noise--think of poor Hubert!" + +"Kindly moderate your voice, sir," was the doctor's dry remark. "My +patient will hear you if you don't take care." + +"It does not matter to me whether he hears me or not," the General +began; but Flossy's hand tightened its grasp upon his arm in a way which +he knew that he must obey. + +The General was a docile husband, and his protest died away in +inarticulate angry murmurs. + +"Don't trouble about it, General--I will arrange everything," said his +wife caressingly. "Go over to the window again and leave me to speak to +Doctor Middlemass for a moment;" and, as the General retired, still +growling, she half smiled, and raised her eyes to the doctor's face as +if she invited sympathy. + +But Doctor Middlemass looked as unresponsive as a block of wood. + +"I must go to my patient," he said, "It was to see him, I presume, that +I was summoned?" + +"Not entirely," said Flossy very sweetly. "We wanted to know whether it +was absolutely necessary that Miss West should stay with my brother." + +"Absolutely necessary, madam!" + +"Then of course we should not think of objecting to her presence, which, +I must tell you, is painful to us, because----" + +"Excuse me, madam," said the doctor, who was certainly a very uncivil +person, "if I say that these family-matters are of no interest to me, +save as they affect my patient." + +"But they do affect your patient, doctor. I think it was the worry of +the affair that brought on this illness. We have found out that this +Miss West's name is really 'Westwood,' and that she is the daughter of +the dreadful man who shot my husband's brother Beechfield some years +ago. Perhaps you remember the case?" + +"Oh, yes--I remember it!" said the doctor shortly. "That's the daughter? +Poor girl!" + +"It is naturally unpleasant to think that my brother--a cousin also of +the General's--should be contemplating a marriage with her," said Mrs. +Vane. + +"Ah, well--perhaps so! We are all under the dominion of personal and +selfish prejudice," said Doctor Middlemass. + +"I hoped that this illness might break the tie between them," sighed +Flossy pensively. + +"So it may, madam--by killing him. Do you wish to break it in that +way?" + +"This doctor is a perfect brute!" thought Mrs. Vane to herself; but she +only looked in a reproachful manner at the "brute," and applied her +handkerchief delicately to her eyes. "I trust that there is no +likelihood that it may end in that way. My poor dear Hubert," she +sighed, "if only you had been warned in time!" + +Perhaps this display of emotion softened Doctor Middlemass' heart, or +perhaps he was not so insensible to Mrs. Vane's charms as he tried to +appear; at any rate, when he spoke again it was in a qualified tone. + +"I trust that he will get over this attack. He is certainly a little +better than I expected to find him; but I cannot impress your mind too +strongly with the necessity for care and watchfulness. Anything that +tends to tranquilise the mind of a person in his condition must be +procured for him at almost any risk. When the delirium has passed, an +ordinary nurse may be of greater use than Miss West; but at present we +really cannot do without her. You heard for yourself how he called her +when she went out of the room?" + +"Yes, I heard. Then shall I send the woman of whom I spoke, doctor? She +might be a help to Miss West, whose work I of course would rather assist +than retard in any way." + +"You can thoroughly rely upon her?" said the doctor dubiously. + +"Thoroughly. She is a most valuable person." + +"She might come for a day or two, and we shall see whether she is of any +use or not. Will you send for her?" + +Yes, Mrs. Vane would send. And then the doctor went to look once more at +Hubert, of whose condition he again seemed somewhat doubtful; and +afterwards he took his leave. When he had gone, Mrs. Vane also departed, +taking her docile husband back with her to the Grosvenor Hotel. She had +gained her point and was secretly triumphant; for she had secured the +presence of a spy upon Cynthia, and could depend upon Sabina Meldreth to +give a full account of Miss West's habits and visitors. + +Flossy had great faith in her system of espionage. She sent Parker at +once with a note summoning Sabina to the hotel, and there she laid her +plans. Sabina was to go that very night to Mr. Lepel's rooms, and was to +make herself as useful as she could. It was presumed that Cynthia had +not seen with sufficient clearness for the encounter to be a source of +danger the woman in black who had followed Westwood to Kensington +Gardens. Sabina was told to keep herself in the background as much as +possible--to be silent and serviceable, but, above all, to be observant; +for it was likely that Westwood would try to communicate with his +daughter, and, if he did so, Sabina would perhaps be able to track him +down. + +Flossy had completely lost all fear for herself in the excitement of her +discoveries. It seemed to her that she and her secret were entirely +safe. Nobody, she thought, had ever known of her understanding with +Sydney Vane in days gone by; nobody had any clue to the secret of his +death; so long as Hubert was silent, she had nothing at all to fear; and +Hubert had succumbed to her for so long that she did not dread him now. +Nothing seemed to her more unlikely than that after so many years he +should deliberately divest himself of name and fame, clear Westwood's +reputation at the cost of his own, and sacrifice his freedom for the +sake of a scruple of conscience. Flossy did not believe him foolish +enough or self-denying enough to do all that--and in her estimate of her +brother's character perhaps, after all, Flossy was very nearly right. + +Sabina Meldreth presented herself to Cynthia and Mrs. Jenkins that +evening, and was not very graciously received. However, she proved +herself both capable and willing, and was speedily acknowledged--by Mrs. +Jenkins, at least--to be "a great help in the house." Cynthia said +nothing; she hardly seemed to know that a stranger was present. Her +whole soul was absorbed in the task of nursing Hubert. When he slept, +she did not leave the house; she lay on a sofa in another room. She +could not bear to be far away from Hubert; and more and more, as the +days went on and the delirium was not subdued, did she shrink from the +knowledge that any other ears beside her own should hear the ravings of +the patient--should marvel at the extraordinary things he said, and +wonder whether or no there was any truth in them. + +"He talked in this way because he has brooded over my poor father's +fate!" Cynthia said to herself, with piteous insistence. "He must have +been so much distressed at finding that I was the daughter of Andrew +Westwood that his mind dwelt on all the details of the trial; and now +he fancies almost that he did the deed himself. I have read of such +strange delusions in books. When he is better, no doubt the delusion +will die away. It shows how powerfully his mind was affected by what I +told him--the constant cry that he sees no way out of it shows how he +must have brooded over the matter. No way out of it indeed, my darling, +until the person who murdered Mr. Vane is discovered and brought to +justice! And I almost believe that my father is right, and that the +murderer, directly or indirectly, was Mrs. Vane." + +To Cynthia, Hubert's ravings were the more painful, because they bore +almost entirely upon what had been the great grief--the tragedy--of her +life. He spoke much of Sydney Vane, of Florence, and of Cynthia herself, +but in such strange connection that at times she hardly knew what was +his meaning, or whether he had any definite meaning. Presently, however, +it appeared to her as if one or two ideas ran through the whole warp and +woof of his imaginings. One was the conviction that in some way or +another he must take Westwood's place--give himself up to justice and +set Westwood free. Another was the belief that it was utterly impossible +for Cynthia ever to forgive him for what he had done, and that the +person chiefly responsible for all the misery and shame and disgrace, +which had fallen so unequally on the heads of those concerned in "the +Beechfield tragedy," was no other than Florence Vane. + +Farther than these vague statements he did not go. He never said in so +many words that he was guilty of Sydney Vane's death, and that he, and +not Westwood, ought to have borne the punishment. Yet he said enough to +give Cynthia cause for great unhappiness. She tried not to believe that +there was any foundation of truth for his words; but she could not +succeed. The ideas were too persistent, too logical, to be altogether +the fruit of imagination. More and more she clung to the belief that +Flossy was responsible for Mr. Vane's sudden death, that Hubert knew it, +and that for his sister's sake he had concealed the truth. If this were +so, it would be terrible indeed; and yet Cynthia had a soft corner in +her heart for the man who had sacrificed his own honor to conceal his +sister's sin. + +Cynthia did not go back to Madame della Scala's house. Flossy had done +her work with the singing-mistress as she had done it elsewhere. She +blackened Cynthia's name wherever she went. So, two days after the +girl's departure from Norton Square, her boxes and all her belongings +were sent to her from her former home without a word of apology or +explanation. She felt that she was simply turned out of Madame's +house--that she could never hope to go back to it again. She was now +absolutely homeless; and she was also without employment; for she had +withdrawn from several engagements to sing at concerts, and at more than +one private house she had received an intimation that her services could +be dispensed with. No reason in these cases was given; but it was plain +that the world did not think Miss West a very reputable person, and that +society had turned its back upon her. Cynthia had not leisure to think +what this would mean for her in the future; at present she cared for +nothing but her duties in Hubert Lepel's sick-room. + +Her boxes were deposited at last in Mrs. Jenkins' little house at the +back; and there a small room was appropriated to Cynthia's use. She was +"supposed to be lodging at Mrs. Jenkins'," as Sabina told her mistress; +but she practically lived in Hubert's rooms. Still it was a comfort to +her to think that she had that little room to retire to when Hubert +should recover consciousness; and till then she did not care where or +how she lived. + +Sabina found little to report to Mrs. Vane, who had now returned to +Beechfield. Cynthia went nowhere, and received neither visitors nor +letters. She had been interviewed by the police-officials; but they had +not been able to get any information from her. As for Andrew Westwood, +he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth; and some of +the authorities at Scotland Yard went so far as to say that the report +made to them of his discovery must have been either an illusion of the +fancy or pure invention on the part of Sabina Meldreth and Mrs. Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +Enid's conscience was not at rest. During her interviews with Mr. +Evandale she was inclined to think that he knew everything, understood +everything--even the difference between right and wrong--better than she +herself knew and understood it; but when he was away her heart failed +her. What if Hubert cared for her all the time? Would she not then be +doing him a grievous wrong by forgetting that she had promised to marry +him when she was twenty-one? The General's opposition to her engagement +would probably vanish like a dream when she was a little older, if she +and Hubert showed any inclination to each other. There was no real +reason why they should not marry; and Hubert knew that. And what would +he say when he heard that she had weakly fallen in love with another +man, and wanted to break her word to himself? + +Enid shrank back and blushed with shame at the prospect before her. It +was all very well for Maurice to say that she must not sacrifice +herself; but was it not a woman's duty to sacrifice herself for the good +of others? She said so to Maurice; and his answer was very ready. + +"For the good of others? But do you think it is for Hubert's good to +marry a woman who does not love him, and especially if it is a woman +whom he does not love?" + +"Ah, if I could only be sure of that!" sighed Enid. + +She was not long left in doubt. The General could not keep a secret; +and, as soon as he and his wife returned to Beechfield, Enid felt that +something was wrong--something which concerned herself. Flossy was very +quiet; she eyed Enid strangely once or twice, but she did not tell her +about the events of the past week. It was the General who sighed over +her, petted her, kissed her at unusual times, and looked at her with an +air of pity that the girl found almost intolerable. After three or four +days of it, she broke through her usual rule of reserve, and asked +Flossy what the General meant. + +"You had better ask him," said Mrs. Vane, arching her delicate brows. + +"I have asked him, and he will not tell me." + +"I suppose it is simply that Hubert is ill. He thinks probably that you +are distracted by anxiety about him." + +Enid colored guiltily. + +"But we have good accounts of him," she said, as if explaining away her +own apparent indifference; "he is going on as well as we can expect. And +I suppose you would be with him if he were dangerously ill?" + +"I am not sure of that," said Flossy rather drily; but she would say no +more. + +It was after breakfast one morning that Enid insisted upon being +satisfied. She and the General had, as usual, breakfasted together, and +a letter had just been received from the Doctor in attendance on Hubert, +over which the General coughed, fidgeted, sighed, and was evidently so +much disturbed that Enid's attention was roused to the uttermost. For +the earlier part of the meal she had been sitting with her hands clasped +before her, not attempting to touch the food upon her plate. She had no +appetite; she had passed a bad night, and was little inclined to talk. +But the General's movements and gestures excited her curiosity. + +"Have you had bad news, uncle Richard?" + +"No, no, my dear! He's going on very well--very well indeed." + +"You mean Hubert?" + +"Yes--yes, of course! Whom else should I mean? You needn't be alarmed +about him at all; he'll soon be about again." + +There was a tone of mingled vexation and perplexity in the General's +voice. + +"Is he conscious now?" Enid asked eagerly. + +"Well, no--not exactly--light-headed a little, I suppose. At least----" + +"Who has written, uncle Richard? Can I see the letter?" + +"No, no, no! Not for you to read, my dear! It's from the doctor--nothing +much--nothing for you to see." + +Enid was silent for a few minutes; then she spoke with sudden +determination. + +"Uncle Richard, you are treating me like a child! There is something +that you are hiding from me which I ought to know--I am sure of it! Will +you not tell me what it is?" + +"You are quite mistaken, my dear! There is nothing to tell--nothing, +that is, in the least particular--nothing that you need trouble about at +all." + +"There is something! Oh, uncle Richard"--and she rose from her seat and +knelt down beside him, putting one arm around his neck and fixing her +wistful blue eyes upon his weather-beaten countenance--"you do not know +how much anxiety you cause me by being silent, when I am sure that there +is something in your mind which concerns me, and which I am not to know! +Even if it is a great misfortune--a great sorrow--I would rather know it +than imagine all sorts of dreadful things, as I do now. Whatever it is, +please tell me. It is cruel to keep me in ignorance!" + +The General looked puzzled and troubled. + +"You had better ask Flossy, dear," he said, pulling the ends of his long +white moustache, and looking away from the pleading face before him. "If +there's anything to tell, she could tell it better than I." + +"I don't think so, uncle dear," said Enid softly. Her eyes filled with +tears. "I would rather hear evil tidings from your lips than from those +of any other person, because--because I know you love me and would not +grieve me willingly. Is Hubert worse than I know? Is he--is he dead?" + +"Bless my soul, no!" cried the General. "Why, what put that idea into +your mind, child? No, no--he is going on as well as possible--upon my +word, he is!" + +"What is it then, dear uncle Richard?" + +"It's his nurse," said the General desperately. + +"His nurse?" Enid's eyes grew large with amazement. + +"She isn't a proper, respectable, trained nurse at all. She is just an +amateur--a young woman who has no business to be there at all--not much +older than yourself, Enid, my dear. That is the reason that Flossy would +not stay. We found this young person nursing him, and so we came away. +Flossy was very much shocked--very much annoyed about it, I can tell +you. I wrote to ask if she was still there, and the doctor says she is." + +Enid's white cheeks had turned crimson, but more with surprise than with +anger. The General crossed one leg over the other, and carefully averted +his eyes as he went on-- + +"I don't mean to say anything against her. Flossy says--but you and I +have nothing to do with that--she's not a very nice girl; that is all. +These professional singers and actresses seldom are. You don't know +anything about such people, my little girl, and it is all the better for +you. But Hubert should not have friends among people of that kind. I am +very much disappointed in Hubert--very much disappointed indeed!" + +"This girl is a friend of Hubert's then?" + +"I suppose so. Well--yes, of course." + +"Who is she? What is her name?" + +"She is a singer, my dear," said the General, putting his arm +affectionately round the girl's shoulders, "and she is an uncommonly +pretty girl--I don't deny that. Oh, of course there is nothing for you +to be anxious about! Hubert befriended her, I believe; and she was +grateful, and wanted to repay him--and--and all that, you know." The +General was rather proud of having given this turn to the story. + +"But I think that was very kind and good of her," said Enid, with +kindling eyes. "Why are you so distressed about it, uncle Richard? I +should like to have done the same for poor Hubert too. What is the +girl's name?" + +"They call her," said the General, looking very much abashed--"they call +her Cynthia West. But that isn't her real name." + +"Cynthia West?" said Enid, in a low tone. Then she was silent. She was +recalling the day when she had questioned Hubert about Cynthia West. He +had said that he knew her--a little. And this girl whom he knew "a +little" had gone to nurse him in his hour of need! Well, was there +anything particularly wrong in that? + +The General, having once begun the story, could not keep it to himself. + +"It is a most extraordinary thing," he said, "how Hubert came to know +her at all. I should have thought that he would steer clear of her--as +clear as of poison--when he was engaged to you and all." + +"Oh, he would not think of me!" said Enid quietly. "Why should he have +avoided Cynthia West?" + +"Why?" said the General, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang +that made the dishes rattle, and caused Enid to give a nervous start. +"Why, because she is not Cynthia West at all! She is the daughter of +that ruffian--that murderer--to whom your desolate orphaned condition +is due, my darling! She is Westwood's child, the man who killed your +dear father and ought to have been hanged for it long ago!" + +Enid's hand slipped from her uncle's neck. She knelt on, looking up at +him with dazed incredulous eyes and quivering white lips. The +communication had given a great shock to her trust in Hubert. + +"Perhaps--perhaps," she said at last, "Hubert did not know." + +"Oh, but he did--he did!" said her uncle, whose memory for dates and +details was generally at fault. "If not at once, he knew before very +long; and he ought never to have spoken to her again when once he knew. +As for all that stuff about his not being quiet unless she was in the +room--about her being the only person who could manage him when he was +delirious, you know--why, that was stuff and nonsense! They ought to +have got a strait-waistcoat and strapped him down to the bed; that would +surely have kept him as quiet as any Miss Cynthia West!" + +The General said the name with infinite scorn. + +"Is that what they said--that he was quiet when she was there?" Enid +inquired. + +"So they said--so they said! I don't see the sense of it myself," +replied the General, feeling that he had perhaps said a little too much. + +"Then did he send for her?" + +"No, my dear; he was unconscious when she came. I believe that his man +Jenkins was at the bottom of it all. He went and told her that poor +Hubert was ill." + +"But I don't quite understand. If Hubert did not send for her, what +right had she to come?" + +"You may well ask that. What right indeed! An abominable thing, I call +it, for Westwood's daughter to go and nurse one of our family! Don't +grieve about it, my darling! If Hubert was led astray by her wiles for a +little time, you may be sure that he will be ashamed of himself before +very long. He has a good heart, and will not let you go; he loves you +too sincerely for that, I am quite sure. So you must not fret." + +"I don't; I shall not grieve--in that way, uncle," said Enid gravely, +but with perfect calm. "You mean that Hubert cares for her, and that she +loves him too?" + +"I don't know what she does," said the General, with a rather ominous +growl. "I only know that there were some entanglement--understanding +between them--a flirtation I dare say--young men are not always so +careful as they ought to be--and perhaps the girl has taken it +seriously." + +"Poor girl," said Enid softly--"I am very sorry for her!" + +"Sorry? Sorry for Westwood's daughter? Enid, you forget what is due to +yourself and to your father! Do not speak of her! Forget her; and rest +assured that when Hubert is better he will dismiss her with thanks--if +thanks are necessary--and that we shall soon see him here at Beechfield +again. And, my dear, when he is better, I will put no further obstacle +in your way, if you still desire the--the engagement to go on." + +"You forget, uncle Richard," said Enid very quietly, "that there was no +real engagement." + +She had always maintained to herself before that there was one. He +looked at her with wonder. + +"But, my dear, there was a sort of an understanding, you know; and +Flossy always said that you were so fond of each other." + +"Flossy did not know," Enid answered coldly. Then she withdrew herself +from the General's encircling arm and rose to her feet. "You have not +told me yet, uncle," she went on, "what news you had from the doctor +this morning." + +"Oh, nothing fresh!" said the General, in rather a guilty tone; and +then, as she pressed him, he explained further. "You see, my dear child, +we thought that this Miss West ought to go away, because none of us can +go to see Hubert while she is there--if for no other reason, because she +is that man's daughter; and I wrote to the doctor to inquire whether +Hubert could not do without her now; and he says, No--that there would +be danger of a relapse if she should go." + +"Then of course you will say that she must be asked to stay until Hubert +is better, uncle." + +"Certainly." + +"Do you think so, my dear?" + +"But it is naturally very painful to you, and to all of us, to think +that Hubert's recovery is dependent on that girl. I call it positively +degrading!" cried the General, crumpling up his papers, and rising from +his seat in a sudden fury. + +"It is painful--yes," said Enid, with a heavy sigh; "but I suppose that +it cannot be helped;" and she turned away, so that he might not see the +quivering of her lip or the tear that rolled down her pale cheeks as she +said the words. + +She went out into the conservatory and sat down amongst the flowers. She +had been too proud to show the General how much she was hurt; but, as a +matter of fact, she was very deeply wounded by what she heard. Her +affections were not bruised--she had never cared for Hubert so little in +her life; but her pride had received a tremendous blow. Even if he had +only "flirted" with Cynthia West, as the General had suggested, the +flirtation was an insult to the girl whom he had asked in marriage. +Indeed it seemed worse to Enid than a _grande passion_ would have +seemed; for her readings in poetry and fiction had taught her that a +genuine and passionate love sometimes caused people to forget the claims +of duty and the bonds of a previous affection. But the General had not +seemed to think that anything of this kind existed; although the fact +that Hubert's delirium could not be quieted except in Cynthia's presence +showed, even to Enid's innocent eyes, that some strong sympathy, some +great mutual attraction, united them. If it were so, Enid asked herself, +could she blame him? What had she herself done? Had she not given her +heart away to Maurice Evandale, although her word was plighted to Hubert +Lepel? + +But then, she said to herself, she had never professed any great +affection for Hubert; she had not taken the initiative in any way. He +need not have asked her to marry him--he might have left her perfectly +free. She felt indignantly that she had been trifled with--that he had +asked her to be his wife without caring to make her so, and that he +might perhaps have trifled in the same manner with Cynthia West. If that +were the case, Enid Vane said to herself that she could never forgive +him. He had profaned love itself--the holiest of earth's mysteries--and +she resented the action, although she might gain by it her own freedom +and happiness. + +It was even possible that this gain might be denied to her. Suppose, +when he was better, that he came back and claimed her promise, +repudiated Cynthia's attempt to earn his gratitude, and explained his +conduct in such a manner that no fair-minded person could refuse him +credence? What then could she do? Enid felt that she might not have the +strength to fight against him unless Maurice were at her side; and +Maurice had, unfortunately for her, been suddenly summoned to the North +of England to attend his father's death-bed. He had left Beechfield with +many fears for Enid's welfare; but he was of course obliged to go, and +had had no opportunity of declaring himself to the General as a suitor +for Enid's hand before his departure. For the moment therefore Enid was +quite alone; and, seeing the net in which she was caught--a net of fraud +and trickery and lies--her heart failed her, and she felt herself +helpless indeed. + +She was in far more danger than she guessed; for Mrs. Vane looked upon +her as a deadly enemy, and was resolved that she should never have the +chance of confiding what she knew to another person. From what Hubert +had said, the girl had made up her mind to tell him all she knew when +once she was his wife. To tell Hubert was what Flossy was resolved that +Enid should never do. She should never marry Hubert or any other man; +sooner than betray Flossy's secrets, Enid Vane should die. The white +still woman with the brown eyes and yellow hair was ready to face the +chances of detection--ready to take life, if necessary, rather than see +her plans defeated and herself disgraced. With Enid out of the way, she +might not be safe; but she would be safer than she was now. + +She took note however of the warning that Parker had given her. She had +been going too fast; she must be more careful for the future. She must +proceed by such slow degrees that Mr. Ingledew himself should be +deceived. And she must change her plans also; for she found that Enid no +longer touched the cooling drinks that were placed beside her every +night--the girl said that she did not care for them, and sent them away +untouched. But surely there were plenty of other ways! + +Mr. Evandale had said a few guarded words to Mr. Ingledew about his +treatment of Miss Vane, and his remarks had caused the surgeon to send a +simple tonic mixture instead of the soothing draughts which had formerly +excited some surprise and even some indignation in the Rector's mind. He +did not much believe in soothing draughts, as he soon elicited from Mr. +Ingledew that they had been made up in conformity with Mrs. Vane's views +of the case rather than according to what Mr. Ingledew himself thought +necessary; and a word from the Rector, whose medical knowledge was +really considerable, caused Mr. Ingledew to change his opinions very +speedily. At the same time, tonics, like other things, could be +doctored; and, as Mr. Evandale was out of the way, Enid's welfare lay, +for the time being, at Flossy's mercy. + +She began to suffer in the old way--from dizziness and nausea and pains +for which she could not account, with an utterly inexplicable weakness +and languor, different from all her former symptoms. Perhaps Mrs. Vane +had altered her treatment. At any rate, it was certain that some +mysterious factor was at work stealing the girl's energy away from her, +diminishing her vitality, bringing her, in short, to the very gates of +death. And so insidiously did the work proceed that even Parker, who had +had suspicions of her mistress, scarcely noticed the advance of Enid's +malady. There were no more fainting-fits--nothing definitely alarming; +but day by day the girl grew weaker, and no one noticed or guessed the +reason why. + +Enid's nights were restless; but she had not been disturbed since +Flossy's return from London by the white figure which she had seen at +her bedside. She told herself that Maurice was right--that her nerves +had played her false, and that the appearances had been a mere phantasm +of her imagination. She quite lost her fear of seeing it again; and, +although she had held no further conversation with the Rector after Mrs. +Vane's arrival in the house, she was reassured and strengthened by the +remembrance of his words. When she awoke in the night-time now, she knew +no fear. + +And yet--it was about three weeks after the beginning of Hubert Lepel's +illness--her heart gave a wild leap when she opened her eyes one night, +and saw in her room, by the faint light of a glimmering taper, the +ghostly figure of a woman clothed from head to foot in white. She stood, +not by the bedside, but by the mantelpiece, with something--was it a +medicine-phial?--in her hand. What the visitant was doing Enid could not +exactly see; but she started up, and at the movement the white woman +turned and showed her face. + +Enid uttered an exclamation--a sort of gasp of terror--for her worst +fears were realised. The phantom which she had dreaded had come to her +again in spite of Maurice's promises of aid. He had forgotten to pray +for her perhaps--a childish notion crossed her mind that perhaps because +of his forgetfulness the ghost was there. + +But was it a ghost--a phantom of the senses, and not a living woman +after all? For the face which met the girl's eyes was not one that she +could easily mistake--it was the face of Florence Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +At that moment Enid recalled, by one instinctive flash of memory, the +words that Maurice Evandale had said to her. If ever she saw "the ghost" +again, she was to speak to it--she was not to be afraid. God would take +care of her. With a sort of mental clutch at the strength residing in +those words, she maintained herself in a sitting posture and looked the +white woman full in the face. Yes, it was Flossy's face; but was it +Flossy herself? For the figure made a strange threatening gesture, and +glided smoothly towards the door as if to disappear--though in natural +and not very ghost-like fashion, for the door stood wide open, and it +was the soft cool night-breeze of summer that had opened Enid's +slumbering eyes. In another moment the visitor would be gone, and Enid +would never know whether what she saw was a reality or a dream. + +That should not be. Strength and courage suddenly returned to her, +inspired by the remembrance of her lover and his words, she would speak. + +"Why are you here?" she said. + +Still no answer. The figure glided onward, and its eyes--glittering and +baleful--were never once removed from Enid's face. With one supreme +effort, the girl sprang from the bed and threw herself in the strange +visitor's way. The figure halted and drew back. Enid laid a hand upon +its arm. Ah, yes, thank Heaven, she felt the touch of flesh and blood! +No weird reflected image of a wandering brain was before her; a +woman--only a wicked desperate woman--stood in her way. Enid was not +afraid. + +"Florence," she said, "why are you here?" + +The woman dashed down the detaining hand. She knew that it was of no use +to assume any longer the character with which she had hoped to impress +the mind of the sensitive, nervous, delicate girl. She was no ghost +indeed; she could figure no longer as a nightmare in Enid's memory. She +stood revealed. But she did not lose her self possession. After a +moment's pause, she spoke with dignity. + +"I came here," she said, "to see whether you were sleeping quietly. +Surely I may do so much for my husband's niece?" + +"And what were you doing there?" said Enid, pointing to the mantelpiece. +"Why were you tampering with what Mr. Ingledew sends me to take?" + +"Tampering, you silly girl? You do not know the meaning of your own +words!" + +"Do I not? What have you in your hand?" + +She grasped at the little phial which Flossy had half hidden in the +white folds of her dressing-gown--grasped at it, and succeeded, by the +quickness of her movement, in wrenching it from Mrs. Vane's hand. Then, +even by the dim light of the candle, she could see that Flossy's color +waned, and that her narrow eyes were distended with sudden fear. + +"Why do you take that? Give it me back!" + +"Yes," said Enid, upon whom the excitement had acted like a draught of +wine, giving color to her face and decision to her tones--"yes, when I +have found out what it contains." + +"You little fool--you will not know when you look at it!" + +"I will keep it and ask Mr. Ingledew or Mr. Evandale. You were pouring +from it into the medicine that Mr. Ingledew gave me--for what purpose +you know, not I." + +A gasp issued from Flossy's pale lips. Her danger was clear to her now. + +"Give it back to me!" she said. "I will have it--I tell you I will!" + +Enid's hand was frail and slight; not for one moment could she have +resisted Mrs. Vane's superior strength--for Flossy could be strong when +occasion called for strength--and she did not try. With a quick sweep of +her arm she hurled the little bottle into the grate! It broke into +fragments as it fell, the crash striking painfully on the ear in the +stillness of the night. The two women looked into each other's faces; +and then Flossy quailed and fell back a step or two. + +"What good or harm will that do?" she asked slowly. "Why did you break +it?" + +"Better for it to be broken than used for others' harm." + +"How do you know that it was meant to do harm?" + +"I don't know it; I feel it--I am sure of it. If you lie and cheat and +rob, where will you stop short? Is it likely that I of all people can +trust you?" + +Florence caught at the bed as if for support. She was trembling +violently; but her face had all its old malignancy as she said-- + +"You are going to slander me to your uncle, I suppose? Every one knows +that you would gain if I--I and little Dick were out of the way!" + +Enid looked at her steadily. + +"You are very clever, Florence," she said, "and it is exceedingly clever +of you to mention little Dick to me. You know that I love him, although +I do not love you. I shall do no harm to him that I can help. But +this--this burden is more than I can bear alone! I shall go to another +for help." + +"You have promised to speak to nobody but Hubert on the subject," said +Flossy, turning upon her with a look of tigress-like fury. + +"To nobody but my husband or my promised husband." + +"And that is Hubert." + +"No; it is not Hubert." + +"Not Hubert? Then who--who?" + +"That is nothing to you. You will hear in good time. You have no right +to question me; you lost your authority over me long ago." + +"Not Hubert?" Flossy repeated once more, as if bewildered by the news. +Then she burst into a low wild laugh. "You are right," she said. "He has +replaced you already; he is desperately in love with Cynthia Westwood, +the daughter of the man who murdered your father, and he has given you +up. He never cared for you; he wanted your money only. Did that never +occur to your innocent mind? As soon as he is better, he will make +Cynthia his wife." + +"He is free to do so if he pleases," said the girl, with a touch of +scorn in her voice. "I am thankful to escape from you both. You will not +expect me to live under the same roof with you again." + +"Go where you please," returned Florence, "say and do what you please; I +shall be only too glad to think that I shall never see your face again. +I always hated you, Enid Vane; from the time that you were a child I +hated you, as I hated your mother before you. Some day you will perhaps +know why." + +"I don't want to know. I have always felt that you hated me," said Enid, +the hot color receding from her cheeks. She was one of those people on +whom the consciousness of being disliked produces a chilling effect. +"But I never hated you; I do not hate you now. Oh, Flossy, is there no +way of setting things straight without letting anybody know?" + +Florence sneered at the almost child-like appeal. + +"For myself," she said, "I have a resource which will not fail me even +if you do your worst. Do you think that I would ever live to bear public +disgrace? Not for twenty-four hours! Remember this, Enid Vane--the day +when the whole story, as we know it, comes to light will be my last. If +you betray me, you will be my murderess. You will have killed me as +truly as ever--as ever a cruel assassin killed your father Sydney Vane!" + +With a gesture of her arm, as if to keep the girl from touching her, she +swept towards the open door. Enid did not attempt to stop her. A +sensation of awe, of affright even, seized her as she watched the white +figure gliding steadily along the passage until the darkness hid it from +her view. Then she sank down on the bed once more, trembling and afraid. +The desperate boldness which had for a long time possessed her was +succeeded by a reaction of horror and dismay. How could she hide herself +from Flossy's hate--how save herself from Flossy's sure revenge? + +As she thought of these things, she knew by certain well-marked +symptoms that one of her old attacks of almost cataleptic stupor was +coming upon her. In the old days she would have succumbed to it at +once. But Evandale's words rang in her ears. What had he said? He +thought that she might control herself--that she might prevent these +nervous seizures from overcoming her. She sat up, and by a violent +effort roused herself a little. Then she tried the experiment of +walking across the room to the open window, where the fresh air +revived her. A glass of water, a few turns across the room, and, quite +suddenly, she was once more mistress of herself. She had conquered the +feeling of faintness--conquered the terrible rigidity of limb which +used to attack her at these times. The Rector's words had proved the +tonic that her weakened nerves seemed to require. For the first time +in her life she was a conqueror. There was no reason why she should +not conquer again and again until her nerves recovered their tone and +the fatal tendency was overcome. + +New strength came to her with this consciousness. She lighted a lamp and +donned a dressing-gown; then, after a little deliberation, she went to +Parker's room. She found the maid up and partially dressed. There was a +scared look on the woman's face which caused Enid to suspect that her +conversation with Mrs. Vane had been partially if not altogether +overheard. But this Enid resolved not to seem to know. + +"Parker," she said quietly, "I am thinking of going to London. Will you +come with me?" + +"Yes, miss, that I will--to the end of the world if you like!" was the +unexpectedly fervent response. + +But Enid showed no surprise. + +"Can you tell me about the trains? What is the earliest?" + +"There's one at six, miss; but you wouldn't start so early as that, +would you?" + +"The sooner the better, I think. I will dress now, and call you +presently to pack my bag. The boxes can be sent afterwards." + +"Yes, miss." + +"And, Parker, if you come with me, you must remember that you are +quitting Mrs. Vane's service. She will never take you back if you leave +her now." + +"I wouldn't come back--not if she paid me double!" cried Parker, honest +tears starting to her beady eyes. "I don't care what she does; but I'll +never work for her again--not after what I have heard and seen!" + +"You must not speak either to me or any one else about what you have +heard or seen," said Enid gravely, "particularly in the house to which +we are going. Will you remember that?" + +"Oh, yes, miss--I'll not say a single word! And you have settled where +to go, miss, if I may make so bold as to ask?" + +"I am going to my aunt--Miss Vane," said Enid briefly; and Parker +retired, not daring to ask any more questions, being a little overawed +by the growth of some new quality in the girl's nature--some novel +development of strength and character which imposed silence on her +companion in this self-enforced exile. + +The dawn was breaking when Enid began to make her preparations for +departure. The faint yellow light of day stole into the room when she +drew back the window-curtains and stood looking--perhaps for the last +time, she thought--upon the flower-gardens and the lawn, upon the sheet +of water in the distance, the beech woods, and the distant hills--spots +that she had known from childhood, and which were dearer to her than any +new scenes could ever be. And yet she did not falter in her purpose. +Even to herself she did not seem the same gentle submissive maiden that +she had hitherto been considered. Some new strength had passed into her +veins; she was eager to act as became the woman who was one day to be +the wife of Maurice Evandale. + +She had one task to perform that was very hard to her. She could not go +without writing a farewell letter to the General, who had always been so +kind and good to her. She made it as short and simple as possible, and +she explained nothing. Without consulting Mr. Evandale, and perhaps her +aunt Leo, of whom she was genuinely fond, she felt that she was not free +to speak. + + "Dearest uncle Richard," she wrote--"I think it best to go to + London to-day and see aunt Leo. I am taking Parker with me. Forgive + me if I say that I do not think I can ever come back again. I hope + you will not look on me as ungrateful for all your kindness to me. + I will write again, and shall hope to see you in London. Your + loving niece, ENID." + +She placed the letter in an envelope, addressed it, and left it in a +conspicuous position on the dressing-table. Then she put on her hat and +cloak, and asked Parker whether she was ready to leave the house. The +clock had struck five, and they had some distance to walk before they +could reach a railway-station. Parker prevailed upon her to eat and +drink before they started; but the girl's appetite was small, and she +left her biscuits almost untouched upon the plate. + +As the two stole silently down the corridor, Enid noticed that the door +of Dick's night-nursery was half open. She hesitated, then with a mute +sign to Parker to go on, she entered the room and made her way to the +child's bedside. Parker lingered long enough to see her kneel down +beside it, and lay her face for a few moments on the pillow beside the +sleeping boy. She kissed him very gently; and when, with a sleepy +movement, he turned and put his arm round her, as if to hold her there, +the tears began to fall down her pale cheeks. But she dared not stay too +long. She rose presently, put his hand back under the coverlet, and +kissed him once again. + +"Dear little Dick," she murmured sorrowfully, "will you some day think +that I did not love you, when you know what I have done, and what I +shall have to do?" + +When Enid rejoined Parker she was pale, but calm; the tears lingered on +her eyelashes, but had been carefully wiped away from her cheeks. They +left the house in silence by a side-door which could be easily unbolted; +and for some time Parker did not venture to open her lips. Her young +mistress looked like a different being with that grave determination on +her face, that steady serious light in her sad but serene blue eyes. + +Just when they reached the point from which the Hall could last be seen, +Enid turned and looked at it for a moment. It was her last farewell; and +the yearning tenderness that stole into her face as she gazed and gazed +again brought the tears to Parker's eyes. The maid had taken a strong +liking to Miss Enid Vane, and was ready to devote her whole strength to +her service. At the same time, the thought of the revenge that Mrs. Vane +might wreak upon her for this desertion was misery to Parker; for what +should she do if her mother learned that she had once been dismissed +from a situation in disgrace, or if she could not earn enough to keep +her mother in the comfort to which she had grown accustomed? She was +quite ready and willing to leave Mrs. Vane; but she was afraid when she +considered the future; and, as she walked along the road beside her +young mistress, the tears now and then brimmed over, and had to be +surreptitiously wiped away. + +"If you are regretting what you have done, Parker," said Enid at length, +"you are quite at liberty, you know, to go back to Beechfield Hall." + +"Oh, no, miss--I wouldn't go back for anything! There's some things that +even a servant can't bear to see going on. It's only my poor mother, +miss, that I'm thinking about." + +"Why?" said Enid gently--at that moment it was easy to her to sympathise +with sorrow. "Is it your wages that you are thinking of? I am sure that +you will not be a loser by coming with me." + +"It's not the money, miss, thank you--it's--it's my character," said +Parker, with a sudden gush of tears--"it's what my mother may hear of me +that I care about! I wouldn't deceive you, miss, for the world! I'll +tell you about it, if you'll kindly hear." + +And then, as the two women walked along the lonely country road in the +shining freshness of the early summer morning, Parker made her +confession. She told the story of her disgrace and summary dismissal, of +Mrs. Vane's apparent kindness to her, and of the way in which she had +been used as a tool in the furtherance of Mrs. Vane's designs. Enid +turned a shade paler as she heard of how she had been tracked, watched, +spied upon; but there was no anger in her voice as she replied. + +"I think we ought both to be thankful, Parker, to get away just now from +Beechfield Hall. It will be better for us if we never see Mrs. Vane +again. I do not think that she will hurt you however, or tell your story +to your mother. She will have other things to think about just now." + +Parker wondered vaguely what those other things were; but she did not +say a word. For a minute or two Enid also was silent, and thought of +Flossy. What was she doing? Of what was she thinking now? + +As a matter of fact, Flossy was at that moment just awakening to a sick +shuddering consciousness of what had happened. She had gone to her room +and fallen to the floor in a death-like swoon. When she was able to +move, she crept to the bell and rang again and again for Parker. But +Parker of course did not come; and little by little Mrs. Vane became +aware that she was deserted, that Enid and her maid had left the house, +and that, for all she knew, instant ruin and disgrace hung like an +inevitable fate above her head. + +When Enid spoke, it was in kindly tones. + +"You must forget the past and start afresh, Parker. We all have to do +that, you know, Mr. Evandale says. We will make a new beginning." + +"I have often thought, miss, that I should like to tell Mr. Evandale all +about it, and hear what he would say." + +"You shall do so, Parker. We shall see Mr. Evandale in London very +likely." Enid paused a little, and then said, in her even, serious +voice, "I will tell you what I have told to no one else, Parker, because +you have trusted me--I am going to marry Mr. Evandale." + +"Are you, miss? I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it! We all thought, miss, +that it was Mr. Lepel." + +"No; I shall never marry Mr. Lepel." + +"Is it a secret, miss?" said Parker. + +"Until Mr. Evandale comes back from Yorkshire--that is all. After that +we will have no more concealments of any kind. I think," said Enid +softly but seriously--"I think that perfect truth is the most beautiful +thing in the whole world." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +Miss Vane's welcome of her niece was dashed by amazement. + +"Why, good gracious, child," she said, "what have you come at this hour +of the day for? I'm delighted to see you; but I never heard of such a +thing! Arriving at nine o'clock in the morning from Beechfield, +especially after all the accounts I have heard of your health! You look +fit to faint as it is!" + +"I am tired," said Enid, with a little smile. + +She sat down in Miss Vane's pretty dining-room, where her aunt was +seated at breakfast, and began to take off her gloves. Parker had +retired into the lower regions of the house, and the two ladies were +alone. + +"I won't hear anything until you have had some coffee," said Miss Vane, +in her quick decisive way. "Get a little color into those pale cheeks, +my dear, before you begin to talk! There--drink your coffee! Not a bad +plan, after all, to start before the heat of the day comes on, only it +is a wonderfully energetic proceeding! Have you come to shop, or are you +anxious about Hubert? I went to his rooms the other day and saw him. He +is weak; but he is quite sensible now, you know." + +"Who was there?" said Enid, setting down her cup with a new color in her +cheeks. + +Miss Vane looked at her sharply. + +"Oh, the nurse of course--a Beechfield woman, I believe, recommended by +Florence! I saw no one else, not even the Jenkinses, who, I hear, have +been most devoted to him in his illness." + +Enid dropped her eyes. She did not care just then to ask any questions +about Cynthia West. If Miss Vane knew the story, she evidently +considered it unfit for Enid's ears. + +"And now, my dear, what brings you to town," said aunt Leo briskly, when +the meal was ended, and Enid had been installed on a comfortable sofa, +where she was ordered to "lie still and rest;" "and how did you induce +Richard and Flossy to let you come?" + +"I ought perhaps to have told you as soon as I came in, aunt Leo," said +Enid, sitting up, "that nobody knew--that, in fact, I have run away from +Beechfield, and that I never, never can go back!" + +"Oh," said Miss Vane, "that's rather sudden, is it not? But I suppose +you have a reason?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo, but one which--at present--I cannot tell." + +"Cannot tell, Enid, my dear?" + +"Not just yet--not until I have consulted some one else." + +"Oh, Hubert, I suppose?" + +"No," said Enid, blushing and holding down her head--"not Hubert." + +Miss Vane put up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and inspected her for a +minute or two. + +"You look as if you had been worried out of your life!" she said. "You +are as thin as a thread-paper! Well, you will not be worried here, my +child. You can stay as long as you like, and tell me everything or +nothing, as you please. One thing I will say--I suppose Flossy is at +the bottom of it all?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo." + +"That accounts for everything. Flossy never could be trusted. Did she +want you to be engaged to Hubert?" + +"I think so--at first. Now I do not know." + +"I suppose they badgered you into it?" said Miss Vane thoughtfully. "Are +you going on with it?"--in her usual abrupt tone. + +"With the engagement, aunt Leo? Oh, no!" + +"Come--that's a good thing!" said aunt Leo briskly. "For I don't think +Hubert is quite worthy of you, my dear. He has disappointed me rather. +Well, I won't bother you with any more questions, especially as I have a +visitor coming at ten o'clock--a young parson from the country who has +written to request an interview. There's the bell--I suppose he has +arrived. Begging, I expect! I told Hodges---- Why, he's showing the man +in here! Hodges----" + +But it was too late. Hodges always obeyed his mistress to the letter; +and his mistress, thinking she would be alone, had ordered "the parson" +to be shown into the dining-room. The presence of a visitor made no +difference in Hodges' opinion. Accordingly, in spite of Miss Vane's +signs and protests, he flung the door wide open, and announced, in a +stentorian voice, the parson's name-- + +"Mr. Evandale." + +Then Miss Vane--and Hodges too, before he closed the door--beheld a +curious sight; for, instead of looking at his hostess, the parson, who +was a singularly handsome man, with a band of crape on his arm, made two +strides to the sofa, from which Enid, with a low cry of joy, arose and +flung herself into his arms. + +"My own darling!" exclaimed the man. + +"Maurice--dearest Maurice!" the girl rejoined; and then she burst out +crying upon his shoulder; and he kissed her and called her fond names in +entire oblivion of Miss Vane's stately presence. + +The old lady was both scandalised and offended by these proceedings. Her +sharp eyes looked brighter and her rather prominent nose more hawk-like +than ever as she made her voice heard at last. + +"I should like some explanation of this extraordinary behavior!" she +said; with asperity. "Sir, I have not the honor of knowing you! Enid, +what does this mean?" + +"I am the Rector of Beechfield," said Mr. Evandale. "I most heartily beg +your pardon, Miss Vane, for the way in which I have introduced myself to +you! I wrote to ask if I might see you, because I know what a friend you +have always been to Enid, and I wanted to see you myself and tell you +how Enid and I had come to understand each other; but, when I saw my +darling here--safe with you--I was so much taken by surprise----" + +"I am taken by surprise too," said Miss Vane grimly. "Pray, sir, does +the General know of your mutual understanding?" + +"No, aunt Leo; and that is one reason why I came to you," said Enid, +abandoning Maurice Evandale and bestowing an embrace upon her aunt. "You +know, I had just told you that I was not engaged to Hubert." + +"You gave up Hubert for this gentleman, did you?" + +"I think, aunt Leo, that Hubert gave me up first;" and Enid raised her +head and looked earnestly into her aunt's eyes, which fell before that +serious candid gaze. + +"Well, my dear, well--and was it for this that you came to me?" + +Miss Vane's voice was gentler now; and Mr. Evandale took advantage of +the opportunity afforded him to pour out the story of his love for +Enid--of his certainty that she was not happy, and his endeavor to win +her confidence. He went on to say that he had been in Yorkshire +attending his father's funeral and settling his affairs for the last few +days, and that it had occurred to him to call on Miss Vane--of whom he +had so often heard!--on his way through London to Beechfield. He had +meant to tell her of Enid's unhappiness and of his attachment to her, +and to ask Miss Vane's interest and help; and it was the greatest +possible surprise to him to find Enid in the room when he entered it. + +"What did you mean by saying that she was safe here?" said Miss Vane at +this point. "Safe with me, you said." + +Maurice looked at the girl. + +"I have told aunt Leo nothing yet," she said. "And, oh, dear aunt Leo, +you won't be vexed, will you, if I may speak to Maurice just for five +minutes first? Because indeed I am so puzzled that I do not know what to +do." + +Miss Vane subdued a rising inclination to anger, and did her best to +smile. + +"Ah, well, I know what you young people are!" she said good-humoredly. +"I suppose I shall be taken into your secrets by-and-by." + +Enid kissed her cheek. + +"If they were our secrets, you should know all about them this very +minute," she said; "but they are not ours, dear auntie." + +"Flossy's, I suppose?" said Miss Vane rather shortly, as she disengaged +herself from Enid's arm and went out of the room. But she was not +ill-pleased, although she pretended to feel piqued by the request for a +private interview. "He looks like a man to be trusted," she said. "Enid +will be happier with him than with Hubert--poor Hubert, poor miserable, +deluded boy! As for Flossy, I cannot think of her without a shudder. +Heaven knows what she has done, but she has most certainly driven Enid +out of the house by her conduct! I hope it is nothing very seriously +wrong." + +At that moment a telegram was put into Miss Vane's hands. It was from +the General. + + "Is Enid with you? If not, telegraph at once. I am coming up to + town by next train." + +It seemed long to Miss Vane before she was summoned to the promised +conference with Enid and Mr. Evandale. Here a great shock awaited her. +Enid had told her whole story to Maurice, and he had said that, while +the midnight interview between Enid and Mrs. Vane might be kept +secret--as nothing could absolutely be proved respecting Flossy's +sinister designs on Enid's life or health--the confession that Mrs. +Meldreth had made to Enid in her last moments should be made known. Enid +was however still reluctant; and Miss Vane was brought in chiefly to +give her advice, and thus to settle the question. + +"Well," she said, looking keenly from one to the other, as she sat +beside Enid's sofa and Mr. Evandale stood before her, "I think I may +safely say that it's not the money that either of you cares about." + +"No, indeed!" The voices were unanimous. + +"Neither money nor lands matter very much to you. But you"--to +Evandale--"hate the deceit; and you, on the other hand"--turning to +Enid--"are fond of the poor child, who, I must say, has been treated +about as badly as any of you. Isn't that the case?" + +"Yes, aunt Leo." + +"And what's to be done with him when the truth is made known? Is he to +be made over to his rightful owner--Sabina Meldreth?" + +Enid and Mr. Evandale looked at each other. + +"No," said the Rector, at length--"certainly not! We would bring him up +ourselves, if need be; and Enid would be to him all that his own mother +and Mrs. Vane have failed to be." + +"And he should never suffer," said Enid, with tears in her eyes. "I love +him as if he were my own little brother, aunt Leo. He should have all +the property--as far as I am concerned--if Maurice thought it right." + +"Yes, certainly, if the General chose to leave it to him; but the +General ought to know," said Mr. Evandale decisively. "I do not see how +we can be parties to a deception any longer." + +"It is a very hard position for all of us," said Miss Vane. "As for me, +I am most seriously concerned for my brother. Have you thought what a +terrible shock you are preparing for him?" + +Evandale looked grave and did not answer. + +"He is devotedly fond of his wife and of the child. To tell him that +Florence is a liar and a cheat--that she has practised a deception upon +him for many years, in order to gain position and a good income for +herself as the mother of his son--above all, to tell him that the boy is +not his son at all--do you think that he will survive it? Dare you take +upon yourselves the responsibility of shortening his days in that way? I +must confess that in your places I should hold my tongue; because it +does not seem to have occurred to you that, after all, old Mrs. Meldreth +may not have been speaking the truth." + +"I never thought of that," said Enid. + +"If you had seen the woman herself, Miss Vane, you would have been +convinced of her sincerity," said the Rector. + +"Possibly. But only you two were there. The General will probably refuse +to listen to Enid's testimony, and will fume himself into an apoplectic +fit when he hears that she has any to give. You, Mr. Evandale, did not +hear the woman's communication at all. Suppose you kill the General by +the news--do you want to take the matter into court? Is Enid to stand up +and tell her experiences to a pack of lawyers, and hear the world say +that she has done it to get the estate for herself? You could not bear +it, Enid, my child! You would lose your head and contradict yourself; +and Flossy would brazen it out and be the heroine of the day; and Mr. +Evandale would be ruined in costs." + +"I don't mind that, so long as the truth prevails," said Mr. Evandale. +"I do not want the money--neither does Enid; we would sooner endow an +hospital with it or give it to little Dick than keep it if gained under +such auspices. But it is hard to see Mrs. Vane--whom I firmly believe to +be guilty of fraud as well as of an attempt upon my darling's +life--triumphant in wrong-doing." + +"Well, nobody ought to know better than you, Mr. Evandale, that the +wicked flourish like the green bay-tree," said Miss Vane drily; "and I +don't see that it is our part to destroy them." + +"Aunt Leo, you are making us feel ourselves horrid!" said Enid from the +cushions amongst which her aunt had insisted on installing her. "We do +not want to punish her, or to make dear uncle Richard ill, or to turn +poor little Dick out of Beechfield." + +"Yet it is just those things which you propose doing." + +There was a moment's silence. Then the Rector looked at Enid. + +"I think we shall have to give it up, Enid, unless we get other +evidence." + +"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Enid, with tears in her eyes. "It was when I +felt that it was perhaps my duty to speak that I was so miserable! But, +if it would simply make mischief and be of no use, I am only too glad to +feel that I may keep silence." + +"I'm glad you see it in that light," said Miss Vane briefly. "I want as +little as you do, Mr. Evandale, to see Enid kept out of her rightful +inheritance; but I am convinced that, if Enid told my brother what she +had heard, he would never believe her, that the excitement would make +him ill; there would be a family quarrel, and the whole thing would be +productive of no good result at all. If we get more evidence, or if one +of the guilty parties would confess, why, then it would be a different +matter." + +"I shall not mind seeing uncle Richard now," said Enid softly. + +"But you will not go back to Beechfield?" said Mr. Evandale. + +"No, indeed; she'll stay here," Miss Vane replied for her. "She'll stay +here until she is married; and I hope that that day may not be far off." + +"I hope not," said Maurice fervently. "Do you think that I may speak to +the General to-day?" + +"I should think so. But what about Hubert Lepel, Enid?" + +Enid flushed crimson. + +"If there is one thing more than another about which the General is +particular, it is the keeping of a promise," continued Miss Vane. "He +may say that he will hold you to your word." + +"He cannot," Enid answered, with lowered eyelids. "For, if what I have +been told is true, Hubert has broken his word to me--and so I am free." + +"She must be free; she did not love him," said Maurice Evandale +conclusively, as if that statement settled the question. + +"Ah, well, if love were all," Miss Vane began, but the opening of the +door interrupted her. "What is it, Hodges? Another telegram? Is it the +General again, I wonder?" + +She tore open the brown envelope with more anxiety than she liked to +show; her eyebrows went up, and her mouth compressed itself as she read +the words--first to herself, and then to Enid and the Rector. The +message was again from the General, and ran as follows-- + + "Hope Enid is safe. Cannot come myself because of + carriage-accident. Dick seriously injured; but doctor gives hope." + +"Oh, poor little Dick!" said Enid. "And I away from him!" + +Miss Vane glanced at the Rector, and read in his eyes what was in her +own mind--"If Dick should die, there would be no further perplexity." +Then both dropped their eyes guiltily, and hoped that Enid--dear, +innocent, loving Enid!--had not guessed what they were thinking. + +"At any rate," said Miss Vane, after a little pause, "you can do nothing +now; and it is just as well that we have all resolved to hold our +tongues." + +And then she went away to write some letters; and Enid was left alone +with Maurice Evandale. + +"My darling," said her lover, "are you sure that you are content and +happy now?" + +"Quite sure, Maurice--except that I think--I half think--that I ought +not to be married; I shall make such a bad wife to you if I am always +ailing and weak." + +"But you are not going to be ailing and weak, dearest--you are going to +be a strong woman yet. Did you not tell me how you conquered that +nervous inclination to give way last night after your interview with +Mrs. Vane? And did you not walk to the station and travel up to town in +the early morning without doing yourself a particle of harm? Believe me, +darling, your ill-health was in great part a figment got up by Mrs. Vane +for her own ends. You are perfectly well; and, when we are married, you +will be strong too. Do you believe me, Enid?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And are you sure yet whether you love me or not?" + +She smiled, and the color flooded her sweet face. And he, although he +knew well enough what she would say, pressed for an answer, and would +not be satisfied until it had been put into words. + +"Do you love me, Enid? Tell me, darling--'Yes' or 'No'?" + +And at last she answered very softly-- + +"I love you, Maurice, with all my heart and soul!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +Maurice Evandale was obliged to go to Beechfield that evening; but, +before he went, he explained his position more fully to Miss Vane than +he had thought it necessary to do with Enid. His father had left him an +ample income; he had no near relatives, and was able to look forward +with confidence to giving Enid a comfortable home. He wanted to marry +her as soon as possible; but, as Miss Vane pointed out to him, there was +no use in being in too great a hurry, for many things would have to be +settled before Enid's hand could be given in marriage. She herself had +always meant to leave Enid a fair share of her own wealth, and she +announced her intention of settling a considerable sum upon her at once. +If the General would do the same thing, Enid would be a bride with a +goodly dower. But Miss Vane was a little inclined to think that her +brother would be angry with the girl for leaving his house, and that he +might be difficult to manage. Mr. Evandale must be guided by +circumstances--so she said to him; and, if Dick was ill, and the General +anxious and out of temper, he had better defer his proposal for a week +or two. She promised that she would do her best to help him; and he knew +that he might rely on Enid's assurance of her love. + +Accordingly he went back to Beechfield; and Enid was left at Miss +Vane's, there to gain strength of mind and body in the pleasant +peaceable atmosphere of her house. + +Miss Vane did not give many parties or go much into society about this +time. With those whom she really loved she was always at her best; and +many of her associates would have been thoroughly astonished to see how +tender, how loving this worldly, cynical old woman, as they thought her, +could show herself to a girl like Enid Vane. She gave up many +engagements for Enid's sake, and lived quietly and as best suited her +young visitor. For Enid, although rapidly recovering, was not yet strong +enough to bear the excitement of London gaieties. Besides, Dick was +reported to be very ill, and during his illness Enid could not have +borne to go out to theatres and balls. + +The General had been driving to the station when the accident took +place. The horse had taken fright and grown unmanageable; the phaeton +had been nearly dashed to pieces; and Dick, who had been on the box +beside his father, had had a terrible fall. He had never spoken or been +conscious since; he lingered on from day to day in a state of complete +insensibility; and while he was in that state the General would not +leave him. Of Flossy nobody heard a word. The General wrote to his +sister, and sent kind messages to Enid, but did not mention Flossy. Aunt +Leo and Enid both wondered why. + +Enid had been in town nearly a week, when one morning a letter was +brought to her at the sight of which she colored deeply. She was +sitting at the luncheon-table with her aunt, and for a few minutes she +left the letter beside her plate unopened. + +"Won't you read your letter, dear?" said Miss Vane. + +"Thank you, aunt Leo." Then she took the letter and opened it; but her +color varied strangely as she read, and, when she had finished it, she +pushed it towards her aunt. "Will you read it?" she said quietly. "It +seems to me that he does not understand our position." + +The servants were not in the room, and she could talk freely. Aunt Leo +settled her eye-glasses on her nose, and looked at the letter. + +"Why, it's from Hubert!" she said breathlessly. + +Then she read it half aloud; and Enid winced at the sound of some of the +words. + +"My dearest Enid," Hubert had written--"I have just heard that you are +in town. If I could come to see you, I would; but you know, I suppose, +that I have been ill. I have had no letter from you for what seems an +interminable time. I must ask you to excuse more from me to-day--my hand +is abominably shaky! "Yours, + "H.L." + +The handwriting was certainly shaky; Miss Vane had some difficulty in +deciphering the crooked characters. + +"H'm!" she said, laying the letter on the table and looking inquiringly +at her niece. "What does he mean?" + +"He means that he still thinks me engaged to him," said Enid, the color +hot in her girlish cheeks. + +"Then you had better disabuse him of that notion, my dear, for you can't +be engaged to two people at once; and I have given my consent to your +marriage with Mr. Evandale." + +"Do you think," said Enid, in a half whisper, "that I have been +mistaken, and that Hubert will be--sorry?" + +"No, dear, I don't!" + +"Aunt Leo, is this report true about him and Miss West?" + +"What do you know about Miss West, Enid?" + +"Uncle Richard told me. She came to nurse Hubert when he was ill. Uncle +Richard seemed to think that very wrong of her; but I don't. I think it +was right, if she loved him. If Maurice were ill, I should like to go +and nurse him, whether he cared for me or not." + +"Child," said Miss Vane solemnly, "you are a simpleton! You don't know +what you are talking about! I have seen Cynthia West and talked to her, +and she is not a woman who, I should think, knows what true love is at +all. She is hard and careless and worldly, and singularly ill-mannered. +She is not the woman that Hubert would do well to marry." + +"What am I to say to him?" asked Enid, with her eyes on the tablecloth, +"if he says that he does not want to marry her--that he wants to marry +me?" + +"You must tell him the truth, my dear," said Miss Vane, rising briskly +from the table, and shaking out a fold of her dress on which some crumbs +had fallen--"namely, that you don't care a rap for him, but that you are +in love with the Beechfield parson; and if Hubert is a gentleman, he +will not press his claim. And to do Hubert justice, whatever may be his +faults, I believe that he generally acts like a gentleman." + +Miss Vane went away from the dining-room to dress for a drive and a +round of calls. Before long, Enid, who had refused to accompany her, was +left in the house alone; and then a vague desire began to take definite +shape in her mind. She would see Hubert for herself. She would claim her +own freedom, and tell him that he was free. He was well enough now to +listen to her, if he was well enough to write. She would go to him while +aunt Leo was out--that very afternoon. + +A hansom-cab made the matter very easy. She had almost a sense of +elation as she stood at the door of Hubert's sitting-room and knocked +her timid little knock, which had to be twice repeated before the door +was opened; and then a tall slight girl in black stood in the doorway +and asked her what she wanted. + +"I want to see Mr. Lepel," said Enid, blushing and hesitating. + +"Mr. Lepel has been ill." The girl's clear voice had a curious vibration +in it as she spoke. "Do you want to see him particularly?" + +Enid took courage and looked at her. The girl wore a black hat; her +dress was severely plain, and her face was pale. Enid thought there was +nothing remarkable about her--therefore that she could not be Cynthia +West. + +"I am his cousin," she explained simply, "and my name is Vane--Enid +Vane." + +A flash of new expression changed the girl's face at once. Not +remarkable--with those great dark eyes, and the lovely color coming and +going in the oval cheeks! Enid confessed her mistake to herself frankly. +The girl was remarkably handsome--it was a fact that could not be +gainsaid. Enid looked at her gravely, with a little feeling of repulsion +which she found it difficult to help. + +"Will you come in?" said Cynthia. "Mr. Lepel is in his room; but he +means to get up this afternoon. If you will kindly wait for a few +moments in his sitting-room, I am sure that he will be with you before +long. I will speak to his man Jenkins." + +She had ushered Enid into Hubert's front room, from which the untidiness +had disappeared. His artistic properties were displayed to great +advantage, and every vase was filled with flowers. It was plain that a +woman's hand had been at work. + +Enid glanced around her with curiosity. Cynthia pushed a chair towards +her, and waited until the visitor had seated herself. Then, repeating +the words, "I will speak to his man Jenkins," she prepared to leave the +room. + +Enid rose from her chair. + +"You are Miss West," she said--"Cynthia West?" + +"Cynthia Westwood," replied the girl, and looked sorrowfully yet proudly +into Enid's eyes. + +Her face was flushed, but Enid's had turned pale. + +"Will you stay and speak to me for a minute or two? I see that you were +going out----" + +"It does not matter; I need not go," said Cynthia, removing her hat and +laying it carelessly on one of the tables. "If you want to speak to +me----" + +Neither of them concluded her sentence. Each was conscious of great +embarrassment. + +For once in her life, Cynthia stood like a culprit; for she thought that +Enid loved Hubert Lepel, and that she--Cynthia--had withdrawn him from +his allegiance. It was Enid who broke the silence. + +"I wanted to see you," she said. "I came to see you more than to see +Hubert. I heard you were here." + +Cynthia looked up quickly. + +"You heard Mrs. Vane's opinion of me, I suppose?" It was bitterly +spoken. + +"My uncle told me--not Mrs. Vane," said Enid. "I should not believe a +thing just because Mrs. Vane said it--nor my uncle, for his opinions all +come from Mrs. Vane." + +Her expressions were somewhat vague; but her meaning was clear. Cynthia +flashed a grateful glance at her. + +"You mean," she said, holding her graceful head a trifle higher than +usual, "that you do not think that I am unwomanly--that I have disgraced +myself--because I came here to nurse Mr. Lepel in his illness?" + +"No! I should have done the same in your place--if I loved a man." + +The color mounted to the roots of Cynthia's hair. + +"You know that?" she said quickly. "That I--I love him, I mean? There is +no use in denying it--I do. There is no harm in it. I shall not hurt him +by loving him--as I shall love him--to the last day of my life." + +"No; I should be the last person to blame you," said Enid very gently, +"because I know what love is myself;" and then the clear color flamed +all over her fair face as it had flamed in Cynthia's. + +Cynthia bit her lip. + +"You do not think," she said, with the impetuous abruptness which might +have been ungraceful in a less beautiful woman, but was never unbecoming +to her, "that because I love him I want to take him away from those who +have a better right than I to his love? I learned to care for him +unawares; I had given him my love in secret long before--before he knew. +He knows it now; I cannot help his knowing. But I am not ashamed. I +should be ashamed if I thought that I could make him unfaithful to you." + +Enid looked at her, and admired. Cynthia's generosity was taking her +heart by storm. But for the moment she could not speak, and Cynthia went +on rapidly. + +"You do not know what he has been to me. I have had trouble and +misfortune in my life, and I have had kindness and good friends also; +but he--he was almost the first--he and you together, Miss Vane, +although you do not know what I mean perhaps. Do you remember meeting a +ragged child on the road outside your park gates, and speaking kindly to +her and giving her your only shilling? That was myself!" + +"You," cried Enid--"you that little gipsy girl! I remember that I could +not understand why I was sent away." Then she stopped short and looked +aside, fearing lest she had said something that might hurt. + +"I know," said Cynthia. "Your aunt--Miss Vane--was shocked to find you +talking to me, for she knew who I was. She sent you back to the house; +but before you went you asked Mr. Lepel to be good to me. He +promised--and he kept his word. Although I did not know it until long +afterwards, it was he who sent me to school for many years, and had me +trained and cared for in every possible way. I did not even know his +name; but I treasured up my memories of that one afternoon when I saw +him at Beechfield all through the years that I spent at school. I knew +your name; and I kept the shilling that you gave me, in remembrance of +your goodness. I have worn it ever since. See--it is round my neck now, +and I shall never part from it. And do you think that, after all these +years of gratitude and tender memory of your kindness, I would do you a +wrong so terrible as that of which Mrs. Vane accuses me? I would die +first! I love Hubert; but, if I may say so, I love you, Miss Vane, too, +humbly and from a distance--and I will never willingly give you a +moment's pain. I will be guided by what you wish me to do. If you tell +me to leave the house this day, I will go, and never see him more. You +have the right to command, and I will obey." + +"But why," said Enid slowly, "did you not think of all this earlier? +Why, when you were older, did you not remember that you--you had no +right----" + +She could not finish her sentence. + +"Because of his relationship to you, and his engagement to you?" said +Cynthia. "Oh, I see that I must tell you more! Miss Vane, I was +ungrateful enough to run away from the school at which he placed me, as +soon as my story became accidently known to my schoolfellows. I was then +befriended by an old musician, who taught me how to sing and got me an +engagement on the stage. When he died, I was reduced to great poverty. I +heard of Mr. Lepel at the theatre. He wrote plays, and had become +acquainted with my face and my stage-name; but he did not know that I +was the girl whom he had sent to school; and I did not know that he was +the gentleman whom I had seen with you at Beechfield. His face sometimes +seemed vaguely familiar to me; but I could not imagine why." + +"And he did not remember you?" + +"Not in the least. I applied to him for help to get work," said Cynthia, +flushing hotly at the remembrance; "and he found out that I had a voice +and helped me. I went to him because I heard of his kindness to others, +and I had read a story that he had written, which made me think that he +would be kind. And he was kind--so kind that, without design, without +any attempt to win my heart, I fell in love with him, Miss Vane, not +knowing that he was your cousin, not knowing that he was plighted to +another. You may not forgive me for it; I can only say that I do not +think that it was my fault; and I am sure that he--he was not to blame. +You may punish me as you will"--there was a rising sob in Cynthia's +throat--"but you must forgive him, and he will be true--true to you." + +She covered her face and burst into passionate tears. She could control +herself no longer; and at first she hardly felt the touch of Enid's hand +upon her arm, or heard the words of comfort that fell from Enid's lips. + +"You do not understand me," Enid was saying, when at last Cynthia could +listen, "and I want to make you understand. I have misjudged you--will +you forgive me? It has been very, very hard for you!" + +The tears were rolling down her own cheeks as she spoke. Cynthia +surrendered her hand to Enid's clasp, and listened as if she were in a +dream--a pleasant beautiful dream, too good to last. + +"We may perhaps be divided all our lives," said Enid, "because of things +that happened when we were children--things that you cannot help any +more than I. But, as far as it is possible, I want always to be your +friend. Think of me as your friend--will you not, Cynthia?" + +"If I may," said Cynthia. + +"I shall always remember you," Enid went on. "And I do not think that it +was wrong for you to love Hubert, or for him to love you--and he does +love you, does he not? You need not be afraid to tell me, because I came +here chiefly for one thing--to tell him that I cannot marry him, and to +ask him to set me free." + +"Not for my sake?" said Cynthia, trembling from head to foot. + +"Not for your sake, dear, but for my own," said Enid, taking both her +hands and looking straight into Cynthia's tear-filled eyes; "because I +have been as unfaithful to him as I think that he has been to me--and I +have given my heart away to some one else. I am going to marry Mr. +Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield." + +The two girls were standing thus, hand-in-hand, the eyes of each fixed +on the other's face, when the door of communication with the next room +was suddenly opened. Hubert stood there, leaning on Jenkins' arm--for he +was still exceedingly weak--and the start of surprise which he gave when +he saw Enid and Cynthia was uncontrollable. Cynthia dropped Enid's hand +and turned away; there was something in her face which she could not +bear to have seen. Enid advanced towards her cousin, and held out her +hand in quiet friendly greeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +"I have come to answer your note myself," said Enid to her cousin, as he +made his way with faltering steps into the room. "I hope that you are +better now?" + +Hubert had seldom felt himself in a more uncomfortable position. What +did this mean? Had Enid and Cynthia been comparing notes? He looked from +one to the other in helpless dismay, and scarcely answered Enid's +inquiry as he sank into the chair that Tom Jenkins wheeled forward for +him. Cynthia had turned her back upon the company, and was again putting +on her little black hat. It was plain that both she and Enid had been +crying. + +"You must have been very ill," said Enid, regarding him with +compassionate eyes. + +"For a few days I believe that I was rather bad; but I am all right +now," said Hubert, taking refuge in conventionalities. "My kind nurse +has introduced herself to you perhaps?" + +"We introduced ourselves to each other," said Enid; and then she walked +away from him to Cynthia. "Will you leave us together for a little +time?" she murmured. "You do not mind? I shall not be long; but I want +to make Hubert understand what I said to you just now." + +She had drawn Cynthia outside the door as she spoke. The two looked at +each other again gravely, and yet with a kind of pleasure and +satisfaction--then they kissed each other. Cynthia ran down-stairs; Enid +re-entered the drawing-room and closed the door. Mrs. Jenkins had +appeared on the scene with a tea-tray, which she arranged on a small +table at Hubert's elbow; and, till she had gone, Enid did not speak. She +sat down in a low arm-chair and observed her cousin steadily. He was +certainly very much changed. His hair was turning gray on the temples; +his eyes were hollow and haggard; he was exceedingly thin. There was an +air of gloom and depression about him which Enid had not noticed before. + +She gave him a cup of tea and took one herself before she would let him +speak of anything but commonplaces. He did not seem inclined to talk; +but, when she took away his cup, he laid a detaining hand on her arm, +and said-- + +"It is very good of you to come." + +"I would have come before if I had been able--and if you had wanted me." + +"You are always welcome," said Hubert. But his tone was languid, and his +eyes did not meet her own. + +"Hubert, are you well enough to have a little talk with me--a sort of +business conversation?" + +"Certainly, Enid. I am really quite well now." There was still no +alacrity in his reply. + +"And you wrote to me, saying that I had not written----" + +"And you had not--for a month or more," said he, smiling a little more +frankly into her face. "Was I wrong?" + +"Did you expect me to write?" + +"Yes, certainly. Why not?" + +"You did not think that I should believe what your sister has been +saying?" Enid asked. + +"Flossy? What does she say?" + +"Miss West has not told you? Of course she knows; for she was here when +Mrs. Vane and the General called." + +"I suppose that everything disagreeable has been kept from me," said +Hubert, after little pause. "I know that there is a pile of letters +which my nurses will not let me read. Tell me what has been going on." + +"I am sorry to have to say disagreeable things to you," said Enid +softly. "It will not make you ill again, will it, Hubert?" + +"Out with it! It won't matter!" said Hubert, in a rather impatient tone. +"What do you want to say?" + +"Nothing to make your pulse throb and your face flush in that manner," +she answered, sitting down beside him and laying her cool fingers on his +wrist. "Dear Hubert, I have no bad news for you, though I may say one or +two things that sound disagreeable. Please don't excite yourself in this +way, or I must go away." + +"No, no--you must speak out now; it will do me no harm. What is it?" + +"Flossy saw Miss West here. She was displeased by her presence. Uncle +Richard believed every word that his wife said, and was led to think +that Cynthia West was a wicked designing creature who wanted to marry +you. You can imagine what Florence would say and what uncle Richard +would believe." + +"I can indeed! And did she come here and say this to Cynthia?" + +"She said a great deal, I believe. She tried to make Cynthia go +away--Uncle Richard told me; and--shall I tell you everything, +Hubert?--he said that you would not be 'led astray' for very long, and +that I should find that you were true--true to me." + +"Enid, did you believe him?" + +"I don't know exactly what I believed. It seemed to me that Cynthia West +had done a very noble thing in coming to nurse you when you were ill." + +Hubert turned and seized her hands. + +"Heaven bless you for saying that, Enid! She saved my life." + +"And we should be grateful to her, and not malign her, should we not? +But it is only right, Hubert, that I should know the truth." + +"The truth? What is there to know?" said Hubert, relinquishing her hands +and frowning heavily. "Flossy is absurdly wrong and mistaken, and +Cynthia West is one of the noblest women in the world--that is all that +I have to say. When I am a little stronger, Enid, it will be better if +you will consent to marry me at once; then we can go away together and +spend the winter in Egypt or Algiers." + +He spoke hardily, determinedly. He had made up his mind to carry out his +sacrifice, if Enid desired it, at any cost. He had, as the General would +have said, returned to his allegiance. + +Enid looked at him with a keenness, an intentness, which struck him as +remarkable. + +"Do you want me to marry you?" she said. + +"Of course I do! Why else should I have asked you?" he returned, with +all a sick man's petulance. "I want to get the ceremony over as soon as +possible--as soon as you will consent. When shall it be!" + +"One moment, Hubert. Tell me first what I want to know. Is Flossy right +in saying that Cynthia loves you?" + +"You may be quite sure that Flossy is infernally wrong in anything she +says!" he answered. + +He had never spoken so roughly to her before. She drew back for a +second, and he immediately apologised. + +"I beg your pardon, Enid; I am sorry to be so irritable. Think of me as +a sick man still, and forgive me. But Flossy knows nothing of the +matter." + +"Not even that Cynthia cares for you?" + +A deep flush rose to his face. + +"You should not ask me. It is the last thing that I can tell," he said, +with the same sharpness of tone. + +"Then tell me another thing, Hubert. Do you not care for her?" + +"Yes--a great deal. She has been a kind friend--an excellent nurse--and +I am grateful to her. Enid, I do not like to think that you believe me +to be untrue to you." + +She took his hand in hers and kissed it--a movement which discomposed +him exceedingly. + +"I did not think for one moment that you would desert me, Hubert, if I +wanted you to perform what you had promised." + +"Enid, what do you mean? Of course I shall perform what I have promised. +Has Flossy been making you jealous and suspicious? My dear, believe me, +there is no occasion for you to be so. You are very dear to me, and I +will be faithful to you always. You shall never have cause to complain." + +"Yes, I know," she said gently. "You are very good, Hubert, and you +would not for the world do what you think to be a cruel thing. But would +it not be better for you to be perfectly open with me? If you care for +Cynthia West, would it not be better even for me that you should marry +the woman whom you love?" + +She looked at him and saw his face twitch. Then he shook his head. + +"This is folly, Enid, and I am really not strong enough to stand it. You +have no need to be troubled with doubts and fears, my little girl. +Cynthia West is as good and true as a woman can be; and I--I mean to +make you happy and do my duty as a man should do." + +Enid smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears. + +"Ah, Hubert, I am so glad that you say that!" she cried. Hubert looked +worried, tormented, anything but glad; but she went on: "I always +trusted you--always believed in you--and I was right. You would never be +untrue--you would never----" + +"For Heaven's sake, Enid, stop!" said Hubert faintly. "I can't--I can't +bear this sort of thing!" And indeed he looked so ghastly that she had +to find smelling-salts and bring him some cold water to drink before she +could go on. + +"I am very sorry," she said penitently, "and I will say what I have to +say very quickly, if you will let me. You will not acknowledge the +truth, I see, though it would be wiser if you would. You love Cynthia +West, and Cynthia loves you; and, though you are willing to keep your +word to me, you care for me only as a cousin and a friend. Is not that +really the truth?" + +"My dear Enid, you are developing a wonderful amount of imagination and, +I may say, of courage!" + +"I don't know about imagination," she said, smiling again; "but I think +that I have gained a great deal of courage since I saw you last. As you +will not set me free for your own sake, I must ask you to set me free +for mine. I cannot marry you, Hubert. Will you forgive me for breaking +my word?" + +Her eyes shone so brightly, her smile was so sweet, that Hubert looked +at her in amazement. He had never seen her half so beautiful. She was +transfigured; for love and happiness had done their work, and made her +lovelier than she had ever been in all her life before. + +"I am in earnest," she went on. "I have been false to you, Hubert +dear--and yet I never liked you so well as I like you now. I have given +my word to some one else--to some one that I love better--and I want to +know if you will forgive me and set me free." + +"Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready--anxious--to +marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far----" + +Enid laughed in his face. + +"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am +speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, +better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound." + +He caught her by the hands. + +"Really--truly--Enid? You love him?" + +"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom +I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart +and soul!"--and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy +smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement. + +"And are you happy?" + +"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now +acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia--is not that true?" + +"Enid, you are a witch!" + +"And she loves you?" + +He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of +tone, he said-- + +"I fear so, Enid." + +"You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked. + +"Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to +marry." + +Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own. + +"You mean because of my father?" she said, in a low voice. + +"Yes--because of your father." + +But he did not mean it in the sense that she attributed to his words. He +lay back in his chair, sighing heavily, and again growing very pale. + +"Hubert," said the girl, "I think you are wrong. Cynthia is not to blame +for her father's actions--it is not fair to punish the innocent for the +guilty." + +"My dear, I must tell you before you go on that Cynthia does not believe +her father guilty." + +"Not guilty? Oh, Hubert! But you think so, do you not?" + +He struggled with himself for a minute. + +"No, Enid," he said at last. + +Her face grew troubled and perplexed. + +"But the jury said that he was guilty! You think that they were wrong? +Perhaps some new evidence has been found! I shall be glad for Cynthia's +sake if her father is innocent." + +"Shall you, Enid?" + +"Yes; for it must be such a terrible thing for a girl to know that her +father has committed a great crime. She can never forget it; her whole +life must be overshadowed by the remembrance. I am so thankful to think +that my own dear father--although his end was tragic--lived a good and +honorable life. It would be awful for Cynthia if she believed her father +to be a wicked man!" + +Hubert turned away his face. It was terrible to him to hear her speak +thus. It seemed to him that, whenever an impulse came upon him to speak +the truth, she herself made the truth appear unspeakable. Better perhaps +to leave the matter where it stood. It was a mere question of +transferring a burden from Cynthia's strong to Enid's feeble shoulders. + +"Whether Westwood was really innocent or guilty," he said, with an +effort, "is not for us to decide--now." + +"No; and therefore we must do our best for Cynthia and for ourselves," +said Enid, with sudden resolution. "I did not know before that there was +even a doubt about his guilt; but, if so, our way is all the clearer, +Hubert. You are not hesitating because you do not want to marry a +convict's daughter, are you?" + +"Not at all." + +"Then it is because you are afraid that we--that I perhaps--shall be +hurt? I know that Flossy and the General feel strongly on the point. +But, Hubert, I absolve you--I give you leave. In my father's name I +speak; for I am sure that in another world where all things are known +he sees as I do--that the innocent must not be punished for the guilty. +If you love Cynthia, Hubert, marry her; and I will give you my best +wishes for your happiness. I am sure that it should be so--else why +should God have permitted you to love each other?" + +"Enid, you are an angel!" cried Hubert. + +He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt tears hot upon +her fingers, and knew that they came from his eyes. She bent down and +kissed his forehead. + +"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear +you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that +I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble, +that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad +together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think +of each other lovingly, shall we not?" + +"I shall think of you--gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down +upon his hands--"as of an angel from heaven!" + +"Oh, no--only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to +you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye." + +He would have detained her--perhaps to say more words of +gratitude--perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from +his clasping hand and quietly left the room. She knew that he was better +alone. She went down-stairs, let herself out of the house, and met +Cynthia on the steps. The girl was just returning after a hurried walk +round and round the square. + +"Go to him," said Enid softly. "He wants help and comfort, and he wants +your love. You will be very happy by-and-by." + +And Cynthia went. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's +chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some +fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly +justified. + +Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room. + +It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk +again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon +his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he +had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the +sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight +that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side. + +"You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him. + +"Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited. + +"I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed." + +He caught her hand. + +"Not yet, Cynthia--I want to say something." + +"To-morrow," she suggested. + +"No, not to-morrow--to-night. I am quite well able to talk. Cynthia, +where is your father?" + +The question was utterly unexpected. + +"My father?" she echoed. "Why do you want to know?" + +"Because I have an impression that he is in England, and that you have +seen him lately." + +"If I had," said Cynthia tremulously, "I should be bound not to tell any +one." + +"Ah, that is true! And you would not trust even me," he remarked, with a +great sigh. "Well, I suppose that you are right!" + +"I trust you perfectly," she said. + +"You have no reason to do so. Cynthia, do you know why Enid Vane came +to-day?" + +"Yes,--she told me." + +"She is engaged to Mr. Evandale. She has set me free." + +There was a silence. Cynthia did not move; and at last Hubert said, in a +stifled voice-- + +"I love one woman, and one only. What can I say to her?" + +"Nothing but that," said Cynthia softly; and then she turned and kissed +him. + +"I dare not say even that," he muttered. + +"Why not? You told me once of an obstacle--Enid Vane was the obstacle, +was she not?" + +"One obstacle. But there was another." + +"Another!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What could that be?" + +She was kneeling beside him, her hand locked fast in his, her arm upon +his shoulder. A sort of sob broke from his lips. + +"Oh, my darling," he said, "I am the last man that you ought ever to +have loved!" + +"But I love you now, Hubert." + +"I am a villian, Cynthia--a mean miserable cur! Can't you accept that +fact, and leave me without asking why?" + +"No, I cannot, Hubert; I don't believe it." + +"It is no good telling me that--I know myself too well. Believe all that +I say, Cynthia, and give me up. Don't make me tell you why." + +"I shall always love you," she whispered, "whether you are bad or good." + +"Suppose that I had injured any one that was very dear to you--saved +myself from punishment at his expense? I daren't go any farther. Is +there nothing that you can suppose that I have done--the very hardest +thing in the whole world for you to forgive? You can't forgive it, I +know; to tell you means to cut myself off from you for the rest of my +life; and yet I cannot make up my mind to take advantage of your +ignorance. I have resolved, Cynthia, that I will not say another word +of--of love to you--until you know the truth." + +She gazed at him, her lips growing white, her eyes dilating with sudden +terror. + +"There is only one thing," she said at length, "that I--that I----" + +"That you could not forgive. I am answered, Cynthia; it is that one +thing that I have done." + +He spoke very calmly, but his face was white with a pallor like that of +death. She remained motionless; it seemed as if she could scarcely dare +to breathe, and her face was as pale as his own. + +"Hubert," she said presently, only just above her breath, "you must be +saying what you do not mean!" + +"I would to God that I did not mean it!" he exclaimed, bestirring +himself and trying to rise. "Get up, Cynthia; I cannot lie here and see +you kneeling there. Rather let me kneel to you; for I have wronged +you--I have wronged your father beyond forgiveness. It was I--I who +killed Sydney Vane!" + +He was standing now; but she still knelt beside the sofa, with her face +full of terror. + +"Hubert," she said caressingly, "you do not know what you say. Sit down, +my darling, and keep quiet. You will be better soon." + +"I am not raving," he answered her; "I am only speaking the truth. God +help me! All these years I have kept the secret, Cynthia; but it is +true--I swear before God that it is true! It was I who killed Sidney +Vane. Now curse me if you will, as your father did long years ago." + +He fell back on the sofa, and buried his face in his hands with a moan +of intolerable pain. + +There came a long silence. Cynthia did not move; she also had hidden her +face. + +"Oh," she said at last, "I do not know what to do! My poor father--my +poor father! Think of the shame and anguish that he went through! Oh, +how could you bear to let him suffer so?" And then she wept bitterly and +unrestrainedly; and Hubert sat with his head bowed in his hands. + +But after a time she became calm; and then, without looking up, she +said, in a low voice-- + +"I should like to hear it all now. Tell me how it happened." + +He started and removed his hands from his face. It was so haggard, so +miserable, that Cynthia, as she glanced at him, could not forbear an +impulse of pity. But she averted her head and would not look at him +again. + +"You must tell me everything now," she said. + +And so he told the story. He found it hard to begin; but as he went on, +a certain relief came to him, in spite of shame and sorrow, at the +disburthening himself of his secret. He did not spare himself. He told +the tale very fully, and, little by little, it seemed to Cynthia that +she began to understand his life, his character, his very soul, as she +had never understood them before. She understood, but she did not love. + +The confession left her cold; her father's wrongs had turned her heart +to stone. + +"And now," he said, when he had finished his story, "you can fetch your +father and clear him in the eyes of the world as soon as you like. I +will take any punishment that the law allots me. But I think that I +shall not have to bear it long. Even a life sentence ends one day, thank +God!" + +Then Cynthia spoke. + +"You think," she said very coldly, "that I shall tell your story--that I +shall denounce you to the police?" + +"As you please, Cynthia," he answered, with a sadness born of despair. + +"You throw the burden on me!" she said. "You have thrown your burdens on +other people's shoulders all your life, it seems. But now you must bear +your own." She rose and moved away from him. "I shall not accuse you. +Your confession is safe enough with me. You forget that I--I loved you +once. I cannot give you up to justice even for my father's sake. You +must manage the matter for yourself." + +"Cynthia," he cried hoarsely--"Cynthia, be merciful!" + +"Had you any mercy for my father?" she asked him, looking at him with +eyes in which the reproach was terrible to his inmost soul. "Did you +ever think what he had to bear?" Her hand was on the door. "I am going +now," she said--"I am going to my father; I have learned the place in +which he lives. But I shall not tell him what you have just told me. +Justify him to the world if you like; till that is done, I will never +speak to you again." + +"Cynthia--Cynthia!" cried the wretched man. + +He rose from the sofa and stretched out his arms blindly towards her. +But she would not relent. + +As she left the room, he fell to the floor--insensible for the second +time that day. She heard the crashing fall--she knew that he was in +danger; but her heart was hardened, and she would not look back. The +only thing she did was to call Jenkins before she left the house and +send him to his master. And then she went out into the street, and said +to herself that she would never enter the house again. + +Jenkins went up to the drawing-room, and found Mr. Lepel lying on the +floor. He and his wife managed with some difficulty to get him back to +bed. Then they sent for the Doctor. But, when the Doctor came, he shook +his head, and looked very serious over Hubert's state. A relapse had +taken place; he was delirious again; and no one could say whether he +would recover from this second attack. Cynthia was asked for at once; +but Cynthia was nowhere to be found. + +"She will come back, no doubt, sir," Jenkins said. + +"I hope she will," the Doctor answered, "for Mr. Lepel's chances are +considerably lessened by her absence." + +But the night passed, and the next day followed, and the next; but +Cynthia never came. + +In the meantime there was one person in the house who knew more of her +than she chose to say. Miss Sabina Meldreth had been keeping her eye, by +Mrs. Vane's orders, upon Cynthia West. She had listened at the door +during the conversation between Enid and Hubert, but without much +result. Their voices had been subdued, and she had gained nothing for +her pains. But it was somewhat different during the interview between +Cynthia and Hubert. The emotion of the two speakers had been rather too +difficult to repress. Some few of Hubert's words, as well as Cynthia's +passionate sobs, had reached her ears; and Cynthia's last sentences, +spoken in a clear penetrating voice, had not been lost on her. She was +behind the folding-door between the two rooms when Cynthia made her +exit. Sabina Meldreth's heart beat with excitement. Miss West would go +to her father, would she? Then she, Sabina, would follow her--would +track the felon to his hiding-place! The hint that Hubert could clear +him if he would was lost upon her in the delight of this discovery. She +could not afford to miss this opportunity of pleasing Mrs. Vane and +earning three hundred pounds. She followed Cynthia down-stairs, seized a +hat from a peg in the hall, and walked out into the street. + +It was already dark, but the girl's tall graceful figure was easily +discernible at some little distance. Miss Meldreth followed her +hurriedly; she was determined to lose no chance of discovering Westwood +and delivering him up to the authorities. + +Down one street after another did she track the convict's daughter. +Cynthia went through quiet quarters--if she had ventured into a crowded +thoroughfare, she would soon have been lost to view. But she had no +suspicion that she was being pursued, or she might have been more +careful. In a quiet little court on the north side of Holborn she +presently came to a halt. There was a dingy little house with "Lodgings +to Let" on a card in the window, and at the door of this house she +stopped and gave three knocks with her knuckles. In a few moments the +door was opened, and she stepped in. Sabina could not see who admitted +her. + +She waited for some time. A light appeared after a while in an upper +window, and one or two shadows crossed the white linen blind. Sabina +went a little higher up the court and watched. Shadows came +again--first, the shadow of a woman with a hat upon her head--ah, that +was Miss West!--next that of a man--nearer the window and more distinct. +Sabina thought that she recognised the slight stoop of the shoulders, +the stiff and halting gait. + +"I've caught you at last, have I, Mr. Reuben Dare!" she said to herself, +with a chuckle, as she noted the number of the house and the name of the +court. "Well, I shall get three hundred pounds for this night's work! +I'll wait a bit and see what happens next." + +What happened next was that the lights were extinguished and that the +house seemed to be shut up. + +"Safe for the night!" said Sabina, chuckling to herself. "I won't let +the grass grow under my feet this time. I'll tell the police to-morrow +morning, and I'll write to Mrs. Vane as well. He shan't escape us now!" + +She retraced her steps to Russell Square, and at once indited a letter +to Mrs. Vane with a full account of all that she had seen and heard. She +slipped out to post it that very night, and lay down with the full +intention of going to Scotland Yard the next morning. But in the morning +she was delayed for an hour only; but that hour was fatal to her plans. +When the police visited the house in Vernon Court, they found that the +rooms were empty, and that Cynthia and her father had disappeared. +Nobody knew anything about them; and the police retired in an +exceedingly bad humor, pouring anathemas upon Sabina's head. But Sabina +did not care; she had received news which had stupefied her for a time +and hindered her in the execution of her designs--little Dick Vane was +dead. + +The child had never rallied from the accident which had befallen him. +For several days and nights he had lain in a state of coma; and then, +still unconscious, he had passed away. His watchers scarcely knew at +what moment he ceased to breathe; even the General, who had seldom left +his side, could not tell exactly when the child died. So peacefully the +little life came to a close that it seemed only that his sleep was +preternaturally long. And with him a long course of perplexity and +deceit seemed likely also to have its end. + +Mrs. Vane had disappointed and displeased the General during the boy's +illness; she had steadily refused to nurse him--even to see him, towards +the end. The General was an easy and indulgent husband, but he noticed +that his wife seemed to have no love for the child who was all in all to +him. The worst came when Flossy refused to look at the boy's dead face +when he was gone. The General reproached her for her hardness of heart, +and declared bitterly that the child had never known a mother's love. +And Flossy did not easily forgive the imputation, although she professed +to accept it meekly, and to excuse herself by saying that her nerves +were too delicate to bear the shock of seeing a dead child. + +Troubles seemed to heap themselves upon the General's head. His boy had +gone; Enid, whom he tenderly loved, had left his house; Hubert, to whom +also he was much attached, lay ill again, and was scarcely expected to +recover. By the time the funeral was over, the General had worked +himself up to such a state of nervous anxiety, that it was felt by his +friends that some immediate change must be made in his manner of life. +And here a suggestion of Flossy's became unexpectedly useful--she +proposed that the General should go to his sister's for a time, and that +she should stay at Hubert's lodging. + +It was not that she cared very much for her brother, or that she was +likely to prove a good nurse, but that she was afraid, from what Sabina +said, that Hubert might be doing something rash--making confession +perhaps, or taking Cynthia West into his confidence. If she were on the +spot, she felt that she could hinder any such rash proceeding with +Sabina's help. + +But Sabina was not to the fore. When she heard that Mrs. Vane was coming +to town, she threw up her engagement and went back to her aunt's at +Camden Town. A trained nurse took her place, and Mrs. Vane lodged in the +house. + +Contrary to the doctor's expectations, Hubert survived the crisis of his +fever, and passed at last into the convalescent stage; though very weak, +he was pronounced to be out of danger, and he began to grow stronger +every day. But, as every one who had known him in happier days had +reason to remark, he bore himself like an utterly broken-hearted, +broken-spirited man. It seemed as if he would never hold up his head +again--all hope went from him when Cynthia left his side. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +Cynthia had, as Sabina suspected, gone straight to her father when she +left Russell Square. Some time before he had let her know that he was +still in England, and had sent her his address, warning her however not +to visit him unless she was obliged to do so. On this occasion she had +almost forgotten his warning; she went to him as a child often goes to +its parents, more for comfort than for absolute protection; and he was +astonished, as well as alarmed, when she flung herself into his arms and +wept on his shoulder, calling him now and then by all sorts of endearing +names, but refusing to explain to him the reason of her visit or of her +grief. + +"It's not that man that you're fond of, is it, my dearie? He hasn't +played you false, has he?" + +"No, father, no--not in the way you mean." + +"He ain't worse--dying or anything?" + +"Oh, no!"--with a sudden constriction of the heart, which might have +told her how dear Hubert was to her still. + +"Then you've quarrelled?" + +"I suppose we have," said Cynthia, with an unnatural hysterical laugh. +"Oh, yes--we have quarrelled, and we shall never see each other any +more!" + +"In that case, my girl, you'd better cast in your lot with me. Shall we +leave England to-morrow?" + +Cynthia was silent for a moment. + +"Is it safer for you to go or to stay, father?" + +"Well, it's about equal," said Westwood cheerfully. "They're watching +the ports, I understand; so maybe I should have a difficulty in getting +off. On the other hand, I'm pretty certain that the landlady here +suspects me; and I thought of making tracks early to-morrow morning, +Cynthia, my dear, if you have no objection to an early start." + +"Anything you please, dear father." + +"We're safest in London, I think," said Westwood thoughtfully; "but I +think that I shall try to get out of the country as soon as I can. I am +afraid it is no good to follow up my clue, Cynthia; I can't find out +anything more about Mrs. Vane." + +Cynthia gave a little shiver, and then clung to him helplessly; she +could not speak. + +"I've sometimes thought," her father continued, "that your young +man--Mr. Lepel--knew more than he chose to say. I've sometimes wondered +whether--knowing me to be your father and all that, Cynthia--there might +not be a chance of getting him to tell all the truth, supposing that I +went to him and threw myself on his--his generosity, so to speak? Do you +think he'd give me up, Cynthy?" + +"No, father--I don't think he would." + +"It might be worth trying. A bold stroke succeeds sometimes where a +timid one might fail. He's ill, you say, still, isn't he?" + +Cynthia thought of the fall that she had heard as she left the room. + +"Yes," she answered almost inaudibly; "he has been very ill, and he is +not strong yet." + +"And you've left him all the same?" said her father, regarding her +curiously. "There must have been something serious--eh, my lass?" + +"Oh, father, don't ask me!" + +"Don't you care for him now then, my girl?" said Westwood, with more +tenderness than he usually showed. + +"I don't know--I don't know! I think I--I hate him; but I cannot be +sure." + +"It's his fault then? He's done something bad?" + +"Very bad!" cried poor Cynthia, hiding her face. + +"And you can't forgive him?" + +"Not--not till he has made amends!" said the girl, with a passionate +sob. + +Her father sat looking at her with a troubled face. + +"If your mother hadn't forgiven me many and many a time, Cynthia," he +said at last, "I should have gone to destruction long before she died. +But as long as ever she lived she kept me straight." + +"She was your wife," said Cynthia, in a choked voice. "I am not Hubert's +wife--and I never shall be now. Never mind, father; we were right to +separate, and I am glad that we have done it. Now will you tell me where +you are thinking of going, or if you have made any plans?" + +Westwood shook his head. + +"I've got no plans, my dear--except to slip out at the door, early +to-morrow morning. Where I go next I am sure I do not know." + +Cynthia resolutely banished the thought of her own affairs, and set +herself to consider possibilities. Her mind reverted again and again to +the Jenkins family. Their connection with Hubert made it seem a little +dangerous to have anything to do with them at present; and yet Cynthia +was inclined to trust Tom Jenkins very far. He was thoroughly honest and +true, and he was devoted to her service; but, after some reflection, she +abandoned this idea. If she and her father were to be together, she had +better seek some place where her own face was unknown and her father's +history forgotten. After a little consideration, she remembered some +people whom she had heard of in the days of her engagement at the +Frivolity. They let lodgings in an obscure street in Clerkenwell; and, +as they were quiet inoffensive folk, Cynthia thought that she and her +father might be as safe with them as elsewhere. She did not urge her +father to leave England at present; for she had a vague feeling that she +ought not to cut him off from the chance--a feeble chance, but still a +chance--of being cleared by Hubert Lepel's confession. She had not much +hope; and yet it seemed to her possible that Hubert might choose to tell +the truth at last, and that she could but hope that, having confessed to +her, he might also confess to the world at large, and show that Westwood +was an innocent and deeply injured man. + +She stayed the night, sleeping on a little sofa in the sitting-room; but +early the next day they went out together, making one of the early +morning "flittings" to which Westwood was accustomed; and Cynthia took +her father to his new lodgings in Clerkenwell. + +For some days she did not go out again. Excitement and the shock of +Hubert's confession had for once disorganised her splendid health. She +felt strangely weak and ill, and lay in her bed without eating or +speaking, her face turned to the wall, her head throbbing, her hands and +feet deathly cold. Westwood watched her anxiously and wanted her to have +a doctor; but Cynthia refused all medical advice. She was only worn out +with nursing, she said, and needed a long rest; she would be better +soon. + +One day when she had got up, but had not yet ventured out of doors, her +father came into her room with a bunch of black grapes which he had +brought for her to eat. + +"How good you are, father!" Cynthia said gratefully. + +She took one to please him but she did not seem inclined to eat. She was +sitting in a wooden chair by the window, looking pale and listless. +There were dark shadows under her eyes and a sad expression about her +mouth; one would scarcely have known her again for the brilliant beauty +who had carried all before her when she sang in London drawing-rooms not +three months earlier. + +Her father looked at her with sympathetic attention. + +"You want cockering up," he said, "and coddling and waiting on. When +once we get out of this darned old country, you shall see something +different, my girl! I've got money enough to do the thing in style when +we reach the States. You shall have all you want there, and no mistake!" + +"Thank you, father," said the girl, with a listless smile. + +"I've had a long walk to-day," Westwood said, after a pause, "and I've +been into what you would call danger, my girl. Ah, that rouses you up a +bit, doesn't it? I've been to Russell Square." + +"To Russell Square." Cynthia's face turned crimson at once. "Oh, father, +did you see--did you hear----" + +"Did I hear of Mr. Lepel? That's what I went for, my beauty! In spite of +your quarrel, I thought you'd maybe like to hear how he was getting on. +I talked to the gardener, a bit; Mr. Lepel's been ill again, you know." + +"A relapse?" said Cynthia quickly. + +"Yes, a relapse. They've had a hospital-nurse for him, I hear. He's not +raving now, they say, but very weak and stupid-like." + +"Have none of his friends come to nurse him?" said Cynthia. + +"I don't know. The gardener wouldn't hear that, maybe. He said there'd +been a death in the family--some child or other. Would that be General +Vane's little boy, do you suppose?" + +"It might be." + +"Then Miss Vane will be the heiress. She and Mr. Lepel----" He hesitated +for a moment, and Cynthia looked up. + +"Miss Vane is going to marry Mr. Evandale father. She is not engaged to +Mr. Lepel now." + +"Oh! Not engaged to Mr. Lepel now? Then what the dickens," said Westwood +very deliberately, "did you and Mr. Lepel quarrel about, I should like +to know?" + +"I can't tell you, father. Nothing to do with that, however." + +"I expect it was all a woman's freak. I had made up my mind for you to +marry that fellow, Cynthia. I rather liked the looks of him. I'd have +given you a thumping dowry and settled him out in America, if you'd +liked. It would have been better than the life of a newspaper-man in +London any day." + +Cynthia did not answer. Her face wore a look of settled misery which +made Westwood uncomfortable. He went on doggedly. + +"When he gets better, I think I shall go and see him about this. I've no +mind to see my girl break her heart before my eyes. You know you're fond +of him. Why make such a mystery of it? Marry him, and make him sorry for +his misdeeds afterwards. That's my advice." + +Cynthia's hands began to tremble in her lap. She said nothing however, +and Westwood did not pursue the subject. But a few days later she asked +him a question which showed what was weighing on her mind. + +"Father, what do you think about forgiveness? We ought to forgive those +that have injured us, I suppose? They always said so at St. +Elizabeth's." + +"Up to a certain point, I think, my girl. It's no good forgiving them +that are not sorry for what they've done. It would go to my heart not to +punish a rascal that robbed me and laughed in my face afterwards, you +know. But, if I've reason to think that he's repented and tried to make +amends, why, then, I think a man's a fool who doesn't say, 'All right, +old fellow--try again and good luck to you!'" + +"Make amends! Ah, that is the test!" said Cynthia, in a very low voice. + +"Well, it is and it isn't," said her father sturdily. "Making amends is +a very difficult matter sometimes. The best way sometimes is to put all +that's been bad behind you, and start again fresh without meddling with +the old affairs. Of course it's pretty hard to tell whether a man's +repentant or whether he is not." + +He knew very well that she was thinking of Hubert Lepel, and was +therefore all the more cautious and all the more gentle in what he said. +For he had gone over to Hubert's side in the absence of any precise +knowledge as to what the quarrel had been about. "A woman's sure to be +in the wrong!" he said to himself--hence his advice. + +"But, if one is sure--quite sure--that a man repents," said Cynthia +falteringly, "or, at least, that he is sorry, and if the wrong is not so +much to oneself, but to somebody else that is dear to one, then----" + +"If you care enough to worry about the man, forgive him, and have done +with it!" said her father. "Now look here, Cynthy--let's have no beating +about the bush! I think I know pretty well what's happening. Mr. Lepel +knows something about that murder business--I am pretty sure of that. +You think, rightly or wrongly, that he could have cleared me if he had +tried. Well, maybe so--maybe not; I can't tell. But, my dear, I don't +want you to bother your head about me. If you're fond of the fellow, you +needn't let my affairs stand in your way. Why, as a matter of fact, I'm +better off now than I should ever have been in England; so what seemed +to be a misfortune has turned out to my advantage. I'm content enough. +Mr. Lepel has held his tongue, you say"--though Cynthia had not uttered +a single word; "but I reckon it was for his sister's sake. And, though +she's a bad lot, I don't see how a man could tell of his sister, +Cynthy--I don't indeed. So you go back to Mr. Lepel and tell him not to +bother himself. I can take care of myself now, and all this rubbish +about clearing my character may as well be knocked on the head. As soon +as I'm out of the country, I don't care a rap! You tell that to Mr. +Lepel, my beauty, and make it up with him. I wouldn't for the world that +you should be unhappy because I've been unfortunate." + +This was a long speech for Westwood; and Cynthia came and put her hands +on his shoulders and laid her cheek to his long before he had finished. + +"Dear father," she said, "you are very good and very generous!" + +"Confess now, Cynthy--you love him, don't you?" said Westwood, with +unusual gentleness. + +"I am afraid I do, father," she said, crying as she spoke. + +"Then be faithful to him, my lass, like your mother was to me." + +They said no more. But Cynthia brooded over her father's words for the +next three days and nights. Then she came to him one day with her hat +and cloak on, as if she were going for a walk. + +"Father," she began abruptly, "do you allow me to go to Hubert--to see +him, I mean?" + +"Of course I do, my dear." + +"Although you believe what you said--and what I did not say--that he +could have cleared you if he had liked?" + +"Yes, my dear--if you love him." + +"Yes, I love him," said Cynthia sadly. + +"I'm going to sail next week; he'll never be troubled by me again," said +her father. "You can either stay with him, Cynthia, or he can come out +with us. Out there we can all forget what's over and done. You go to him +and tell him so at once." + +He kissed her on the forehead with unaccustomed solemnity. Cynthia flung +her arms round his neck and gave him a warm embrace. The eyes of both +father and daughter were wet as they said good-bye. + +Cynthia knew nothing of Mrs. Vane's visit to London. She expected to +meet a trained nurse only, and the Jenkins--Sabina Meldreth and the +doctor perhaps beside, but no one else. She set forth at an hour which +would enable her to reach the house when Hubert was likely to be up--at +least, if he were able to leave his bed. She did not know what she was +going to say to him--what line she was about to take. She only knew that +she could not bear to be away from him any longer, and that love and +forgiveness were the two thoughts uppermost in her mind. + +She was not aware that her father had considered it unfit for her to go +alone to Russell Square. He had followed her all the way from +Clerkenwell, and was in the square immediately behind herself. When she +mounted the steps and rang the bell, he crossed the road and walked +along the pavement by the gardens in the middle of the square. Here he +fancied that he should be unobserved. He saw the door opened; he saw +Cynthia making her inquiries of the servant. Then she went in, and the +door was shut. + +He waited for some time. Presently a man, whom he knew to be the +faithful Jenkins, appeared on the steps of the house and looked about +him. Then he crossed the road and advanced to Westwood, who was leaning +against the railings. + +"Mr. Reuben Dare, I think?" he said, touching his hair respectfully. +Westwood stared at the sound of that name. "Miss West and Mr. Lepel +wants to know if you will kindly come up-stairs. They have a word or two +to say, and they hope that you will not fail to come." + +Westwood smiled to himself--a rather peculiar smile. + +"All right," he said; "if they want me to come, I'll come. But I think +they had both better have let me stay away." + +Nevertheless he followed Jenkins to the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +The door had been opened to Cynthia by a strange servant. She asked if +Mr. Lepel was at home--a conventionalism of which she immediately +repented. Was he well enough to see anybody, at least? she asked. + +The girl did not know, but asked her to walk inside. Mr. Lepel was +better; he was dressed every day and sat in the drawing-room; but he had +not seen any visitors as yet. He was in the drawing-room now, she +thought, and he was alone. + +"I will go up," said Cynthia decidedly. "You need not announce me. I +will go myself; he knows me very well." + +The girl fell back doubtfully; but Cynthia's tone was so resolute, her +air so assured, that there was nothing for it but to give way. Besides +Mrs. Vane was out, and nobody had said what was to be done in case of +visitors. + +Cynthia went in very quietly. Hubert was lying on a sofa in the darkest +corner of the room. The blinds were partially closed; but she could see +his face, and she thought at first that he was asleep. His eyes were +closed, his hands were stretched at his sides; his attitude was +expressive of the utmost langour and weariness. She came a little nearer +and looked at him closely. His frame was sadly wasted, and there was an +expression of suffering and melancholy upon his face that touched her +deeply. She drew nearer and nearer to the sofa; but he did not look up +until she was almost close to him. Then he opened his eyes. She cried +"Hubert!" and dropped on her knees beside him, so as to bring her face +upon a level with his own. She put her arms around him and kissed his +cheek. + +"Oh, Hubert," she said, "I could not stay away! I love you, my +darling--I love you in spite of all! Will you forgive me for being so +cruel when I saw you last?" + +She felt him tremble a little. + +"Cynthia!" he said; and then with a sudden gesture he threw his arm +around her, rested his head upon her shoulder, and burst into +tears--tears of weakness in part, but tears also of love, of penitence, +of almost unbearable relief. + +She held him close to her, kissing his dark head from time to time, and +calling him by fond, caressing names. But for some minutes he did not +seem to be able or to care to speak. She caught the word "Forgive!" once +or twice between his gasps for breath; but she could distinguish nothing +more. + +"Darling," she said at last, "you will do yourself harm if this goes on. +Be calm, and let us talk together a little time. Yes, I forgive you, if +I must say so before anything else. There, there! Ah, my own love, how +could I have left you so long? I was cruel and unkind!" + +"No, Cynthia--no! I never thought that I should see you again," he said +brokenly. "Don't leave me again--just yet." + +"I will never leave you, if you like," she murmured softly. + +"Never, Cynthia?" + +"So long as we both do live. You know what I mean?" + +"I daren't think. You don't mean that you will now--now become----" + +"Your wife? Yes, if you will have me, Hubert. There is no barrier +between us now." + +"Your father?" he murmured, looking at her with weary wistful eyes. + +"My father sent me to you to-day. No, darling, I have not told him." + +"I wish to Heaven you had, Cynthia!" + +"What! I betray your confidence? No, I could not do that. But he had +some notion already, Hubert. He told me that he suspected you--or your +sister--some time ago; and he said to me to-day that he believed that +you could have cleared him if you had liked." + +"And what did you say? I wish that you had found it in your heart to +tell him everything you knew." + +"I could not do that. But I did not deny what he had said!" and then she +told him all that she remembered of her father's words. + +"His generosity crushes me to the earth!" said Hubert hoarsely. "I must +tell him the whole story, and let him decide." + +"He has decided." + +"I cannot accept that decision. Since I have been lying here, Cynthia, +and since you left me, I have seen it all as it appeared in your eyes. I +have wondered at my own cowardice; and I hope--I trust that I have +repented of it. It is time that I did, Cynthia, for I believe that I am +a dying man." + +"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him passionately. "You will get better +now--you must get better--for my sake!" + +"I wish I could, my darling--I wish I could!" + +"Why have you such gloomy thoughts? You are depressed; you have wanted +me. I shall soon make you well. I shall take you away from England to +some warm bright country where you will have nothing to do but be happy +and grow quite strong; and I will take care of you, and make up to you +if I can for everything that you have lost." + +"Yes, if one had not a conscience," said Hubert, with a faint sad smile, +"one could be very happy, could one not? But you forget; you told me +before that I must make amends. My darling, there is only one course +open to me now." + +"Hubert!" She knew by instinct what course he meant to take. + +"We are going to have the whole truth told now," he went on softly. "And +what a relief it will be! My God, I wonder that I could bear the burden +so long! For I have suffered, Cynthia, though not as your father has. I +am going now to tell the truth and bear the penalty; there is no other +way." + +"There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak +bravely. "It was a duel." + +"Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling +what the punishment will be; and public feeling will--very rightly--be +against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have +cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to +pieces if they can get hold of me!" + +"They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all +for your sister's sake----" + +"I want to save Flossy, Cynthia. I think I can shield her still." + +"I do not think that my father will shield her, Hubert. He knows." + +"She must be shielded, if possible, dear, for the old General's sake. +What a fool I was not to prevent that marriage! Well, it can't be helped +now. But one thing I can do--I can exonerate your father, and confess +that I shot Sydney Vane, without a word about my sister. That must be +so, Cynthia. And your father must be silent." + +"You will deprive yourself of your one excuse," said Cynthia quietly. + +"I know. I cannot help it. I must stand forth to the world as a brutal +murderer--as once your father did, my Cynthia. It is only right and +just. They must sentence me as they please. But it will not be for long; +I shall probably not come out of prison. But, if I do----" + +Cynthia burst into tears. + +"I can't bear it--I can't bear it!" she cried. "My father is right--he +has got over the worst of it and outlived all that was hard. It would be +terrible for you! How could you bear it--and how could I?" + +"You could bear it if you thought it brought me happiness, could you +not? I know I am selfish, Cynthia." + +"No, no--you are anything but selfish! Oh, darling, live for me a little +if you will not for yourself! Father asks you to do that as well as I. +You will make us suffer if you suffer--and I cannot bear to part from +you again! If you love me, Hubert, say nothing--for my father's sake and +mine!" + +It was a strange plea. And while Hubert listened and strove to calm her, +there came a new and unwonted sound upon the stairs--the sound of a +struggle, of trampling feet, of angry voices--of a woman's shriek and a +man's stifled curse. Cynthia sprang to her feet. + +"I hear my father's voice!" she said. "What can that mean?" + + * * * * * + +There had been another visitor that afternoon to Hubert's lodgings in +Russell Square. Sabina Meldreth had presented herself at three o'clock, +and had inquired for Mrs. Vane. She was told that Mrs. Vane had gone +out, and was not likely to be back until six or half-past six o'clock. + +"And then the General's coming with her," Jenkins had informed her, "and +they're to dine together, because it is the first time that master has +stayed up to dinner since he was taken ill." + +"Oh, that'll do very well for me!" said Sabina sullenly. "I shall see +the whole lot of them then, I suppose. I'll wait!" and she planted +herself on one of the wooden chairs in the hall. + +"Won't you come down-stairs?" said Jenkins. "My missus is there." + +"No, I won't. I want to see Mrs. Vane; and perhaps she'll get away or +refuse to see me if I am down-stairs. Sitting here, she can't escape so +easy. I want Mrs. Vane." + +Jenkins shrugged his shoulders. + +"You seem to have got a grudge against her," he observed. "Didn't she +pay you properly?" + +"No, she didn't--not that it's any business of yours," Sabina remarked. + +And, after that speech, Jenkins retired with dignity, feeling that it +was not his part to converse any longer with a woman who chose to be so +very impolite to him. + +"She looks very queer!" he observed to his wife down-stairs. "She's in +black, and her eyes are red as if she'd been crying, and her face as +white as death. I think she looks as if she was going out of her mind." + +Whereupon Mrs. Jenkins herself went up-stairs to inspect the dangerous +Sabina, but came down with the report that "she looked quiet enough." +And so the afternoon went on--and still Mrs. Vane did not arrive. But +Cynthia did. + +When Sabina heard Miss West's voice speaking to the maid at the door, +she gave a violent start. Then she rose and went cautiously into a +little room which opened off the hall, and stood behind the door, so +that Cynthia could not see her. As soon as Cynthia had gone up-stairs, +Sabina dashed out into the hall again, and inspected the square through +the pane of glass at the side of the hall door. + +"It's him sure enough," she said to herself, "and his daughter's gone +up-stairs! Well, they are bold as brass, the pair of them! They didn't +ought to be allowed to escape, I'm sure; but I don't know what to do. I +wish Mrs. Vane would come home, and the General too. They'd take care he +was nabbed fast enough! And here they come!" + +For at that moment Miss Vane's carriage drove up to the door, and out of +it came its owner, as well as Mrs. Vane and the General. Sabina opened +the door before the man had time to knock. And no sooner had Mrs. Vane +entered than she was confronted by Sabina. + +"What do you want here!" she asked. + +Sabina had, as Flossy expected, come with demands that would not perhaps +have been easy to satisfy; but all her plans were swept away by the +appearance of Westwood in the square. Sabina did not attempt to stand on +ceremony. + +"For goodness' sake, ma'am, don't go up-stairs nor let them go just +yet!" she said hurriedly. "There's the man Westwood in the square--and +his daughter's just gone up to Mr. Lepel. I know him by sight perfectly. +If you want him to be arrested, ma'am, you could get it done now +easily." + +"What's that?" said old Miss Vane, stepping back with her hand to her +ear. "Why are you looking so pale, Flossy? What's all this about?" + +Flossy looked at her husband and then looked at Sabina. She would have +given anything to stop Sabina's tongue. For the General had never yet +been made aware of one half of her manoeuvres, and she did not think +that he even knew that Westwood was alive. The whole thing would +probably excite him terribly; and there was a certain unsigned document +in the General's bureau at home about which Flossy was particularly +anxious. She had not wanted him to hear too much about Westwood's fate. + +But there was no help for it now. He came forward with his sister, +wanting to know what all the disturbance was about, and questioning +first one and then another in turn. Sabina was not voluble; but, acting +on a hint from Mrs. Vane, she did not at once say how she came to +recognise the man. The General flew into a rage, as Flossy had expected +him to do, and wanted to go out and lay hands himself on his brother's +murderer. With great difficulty his wife and sister persuaded him to +listen to reason. The footman was despatched for the police, and Jenkins +was deputed to accost the man and bring him to the house. In this last +piece of business Flossy took the lead. She had a notion that Jenkins +was in Cynthia's confidence, and would not do what was required of him +if he knew its purpose; and for that reason she coolly gave him a +message from Hubert and Cynthia. Neither the General nor Miss Vane heard +it, or perhaps they would not have allowed it to be sent; but it +certainly effected all that they desired. Quietly and unsuspiciously +Westwood came stepping across the square in Jenkins' wake; and just as +quietly was taken up the stairs and shown into a little sitting-room, +where it had been decreed that he should be delayed until the police +could arrive. + +But Westwood was not altogether at his ease. He was surprised to find +that neither Cynthia nor Lepel were there to meet him--surprised to find +himself left alone in a bare little room for five or ten minutes at the +very least. At last he tried the door. It was locked. And then the truth +flashed across his mind--he had been recognised--he had been entrapped. +Perhaps even Cynthia and Hubert Lepel were in the plot. They had perhaps +meant him to be caught and sent back to Portland, to die like a wild +beast in a cage. + +"There'll be murder done first!" said Westwood, looking round him for a +weapon. "Let's see which is the strongest--Hubert Lepel or me. And now +for the door! The window is too high." + +He had found a poker, and he dealt one crashing blow at the lock of the +door. It was not strong, and it yielded almost immediately. There was a +shriek from some one on the stairs--the rush of two men from the hall. +The General and a servant were instantly upon him, and, what was worse, +Cynthia's arms were around his neck, her hand upon his arm. + +"Father, don't strike! You will kill somebody!" she cried. + +"And what do I care? Is it you that have given me up? Do you want me to +die like a rat in a hole?" the man cried, trying to shake her off. + +But the men were at his side--resistance was useless--the door at the +foot of the stairs had been barred, and there was no way of escape. + +"The police will be here directly--keep him till they come!" cried the +General at the top of his voice. "I shall give him in charge! He is the +murderer Westwood, the man who killed my bother, Sydney Vane, and +afterwards escaped from Portland Prison, where he was undergoing a life +sentence! I remember the man perfectly. Sabina Meldreth, you can +identify him?" + +"Oh, yes, I can identify him!" said Sabina curtly. "He's Miss West's +father, anyway--and we all know who that was. We heard her call him +'father' just now her very self." + +The servants tightened their grasp on the man's arm. But at that moment +an interruption occurred. The drawing-room door was flung open, and +Hubert Lepel, ghastly pale, and staggering a little as he moved, +appeared upon the scene. + +"This must go no further," he said. "Keep the police away, and let this +man go. He is not Sydney Vane's murderer." + +"Don't interfere, sir!" shouted the General from the stairs. "This is +Westwood, the man who escaped from Portland--and back to Portland he +shall go!" + +"It is Westwood, I know," said Herbert, supporting himself against the +door-post, and looking down calmly upon the excited group below; "but +Westwood was not a murderer. General, you have been mistaken all this +time. I wish to make a statement of the truth--it was I who killed +Sydney Vane! Now do what you like!" + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +A sudden hush fell upon the group. Each looked at the others aghast. The +general opinion was that Mr. Lepel's fever had returned upon him and +that he was raving. But at least three persons knew or suspected that he +spoke only the truth. + +"He's mad--delirious!" said the General angrily. "Take him back to his +room, some of you, and help me to secure the criminal!" + +"You had better come here and listen to my story first," said Hubert, +still clutching at the door to steady himself. "Keep the police +down-stairs for five minutes, General, if you please. Neither Westwood +nor I shall escape in that time. Jenkins, drop that gentleman's arm!" + +Jenkins relinquished his hold of Westwood's arm with great promptitude. +Cynthia said a few words to him in an undertone which sent him +down-stairs at once. She had heard the front door open and shut, and +believed that the police had come. They, at least, could be detained for +a few minutes--she had no hope of anything more; but she felt that +Hubert's confession should be made to his own relatives first of all. +She ran to his side and gave him her arm to lean upon, conducting him +back to the drawing-room; and thither the others followed her in much +agitation and perturbation of mind. The General was almost foaming at +the mouth with rage; Miss Vane looked utterly blank and stupefied; +Flossy's face was white as snow; Sabina watched the scene with stolid +and sullen curiosity; while Westwood marched into the drawing-room with +the air of a proud man unjustly assailed. + +They found Hubert leaning against the mantelpiece. He would not sit +down; but he was not strong enough to stand without support. Cynthia was +clinging to him with her face half hidden on his shoulder; his arm was +clasped about her waist. + +"What does this mean?" said the General. + +"It means," answered Flossy's quiet voice, "that Hubert is raving, and +that the doctor must be sent for immediately." + +"You know better than that, Florence," said her brother. "I speak the +truth, and nothing but the truth. I accuse no one else," he said, with +marked emphasis; "but I wish you all now to know what were the facts. It +was I who met Sydney Vane that day in the fir plantation beside the road +that leads up the hill to Beechfield. We quarrelled, and we agreed to +settle the matter by a duel. We were unequally matched. He had a +revolver and I had this man Westwood's gun, which I found on the ground. +We fired, and Sydney fell." + +There was a brief silence. Then a bitter cry escaped from Miss Vane's +lips. + +"Oh, Hubert, Hubert," she wailed, "can this be true?" + +"God knows that it is true!" answered Hubert; and his face carried +conviction if his words did not. + +"It is impossible!" cried the General. "To begin with, if you had +committed this crime--for a duel in the way you mention was a crime and +nothing else--you would never have allowed this man to suffer for it. I +absolutely refuse to believe, sir, that my kinsman is such a base, +cowardly villain! This is a fit of delirium--nothing else!" + +"It is simple truth," said Hubert sadly. "That I did not at once +exonerate Andrew Westwood is, to my thinking, the worst part of my +crime. I acknowledge that I--I dared not confess; and I left him to bear +the blame." + +"Good heavens, sir, do you tell me that to my face?" thundered the old +man, with uplifted hand. "You are a disgrace to the family! I am glad +that you do not bear my name." + +He would perhaps even have struck the younger man if Cynthia had not +twined her arms more closely round Hubert's neck, and made herself for +the moment a defence to him. But Hubert drew himself away. + +"Let me go, Cynthia," he said quietly. "You must not come between us. +The General is right, and I am a disgrace to my name. He must do what he +thinks fit." + +But the General had turned away, and was walking furiously up and down +the room, too angry and too much overcome for speech. Miss Vane was +sobbing bitterly. Flossy watched her brother's face. She saw that he +was trying not to implicate her. Would she escape? If his silence and +her own could save her, she would be safe. But she had reckoned without +Andrew Westwood. + +"I beg pardon, sir," said Cynthia's father, addressing himself to the +General; "but this ain't fair! Mr. Lepel is getting more of the blame +than he deserves. Suppose you let me speak a word for him?" + +"You!" said the General, stopping short. "You, who have suffered his +punishment, cannot have much to say for him! If--if this is true," he +went on, with a curious mixture of stiffness and of shame, "we have much +to answer for with respect to you--much to make up----" + +"Not so much as maybe you think," said Andrew Westwood. "I was bitter +enough at the time, and I have thought often and often of the words that +I said at the trial--how I cursed the man that brought me to that pass +and all that he held dear. Curses come home to roost, they say. At any +rate, the person who is dearest to him, I believe, is my very own +daughter, whom I myself love better that any one in the whole wide +world; and far be it from me to wish evil to her or to any one that she +loves." + +Miss Vane's handkerchief fell to her lap. The General stared at the +speaker open-mouthed. The man's native nobility of soul amazed them +both. Andrew Westwood went on soberly. + +"You have not asked Mr. Lepel how he came to fight Mr. Vane, sir. You +might be sure that it wasn't for a poor reason; and there was never +anything considered dishonorable in a fair fight between two armed men." + +"That does not do away with the injury to yourself," said the General +grimly. "Such blame as there was ought to have been borne by him and not +by you." + +Westwood waved his hand. + +"As for injury," he said, "me and Cynthia have agreed to forget about +that. If I'd been at Portland all this time, why, then no doubt I should +feel it worse. But I got away after four years of it, and made my way to +America, and 'struck ile' there. I've done better since then than, ever +I did in my life before; so I have no need to complain. But you haven't +asked him why he fought Mr. Vane, sir." + +"Well, why was it?" said the General sternly and grudgingly. + +He did not see that his wife suddenly rose from her seat, and with +clasped hands darted a look full of miserable fear and entreaty towards +her brother. But all the others saw, though some of them did not +understand; and Hubert responded to the appeal. + +"I cannot tell you," he answered, with his eyes on the ground. + +"But I can!" said Westwood. "And Mrs. Vane could, if she chose! Blame +her if you like, sir, for she's known the truth all along as much as Mr. +Hubert's done; and it was to save her that he would not open his lips." + +They had tried in vain to stop him--Hubert by angry imperative words, +Flossy by a piteous cry of terror; but Westwood's rough sonorous voice +rose above all other sounds. He paused for a moment, looking at the +General's face of incredulous dismay, at Mrs. Vane's shrinking figure, +and his tones softened a little as he spoke again. + +"I don't wish to say more myself than is necessary. Miss Lepel as she +was then and Mr. Sydney Vane were in the habit of meeting each other in +the wood. Many of the village people knew it--it was common talk in +Beechfield. Mr. Lepel found it out and was angry. He told Mr. Vane there +must be no more of it; and then the quarrel followed that Mr. Lepel +speaks about. I don't want to make too much of it"--casting a reluctant +glance at Hubert--"but I think that Mr. Lepel was right in objecting and +in trying to put a stop to it." + +It was certain that he had very much softened the facts of the case; but +the General could not have looked more confounded, or Flossy more +overwhelmed, if a great deal more had been said. The veins swelled upon +the old man's forehead, his face grew lividly purple as he strode over +to his wife's side and laid his hand heavily on her shoulder. + +"Florence, is this true?" he said. + +She sat mute and shrinking in her chair, crushed as if beneath an +invisible weight--her hands clasped, her white face averted. Miss Vane, +watching her eagerly, felt with a thrill of horror that she looked like +a guilty woman. + +"Is this true?" the General asked again, giving her a little shake. But +Flossy still sat mute. + +Then Miss Vane interposed. + +"Let her alone, Richard," she said. "She is overcome--she cannot answer +just now. She will explain everything by-and-by." + +"Speak!" cried the General, his eyes blazing with rage. He would have +shaken her again and more violently if Hubert had not interfered. + +"You forget, sir, that she is a woman and that she is your wife," he +said. "Whatever may have happened in the past, she has no doubt +regretted what was an imprudence. I was to blame for taking up the +matter too seriously. You know what your brother was; I know my sister. +We must judge them by what we know." + +The words were halting and ambiguous; but they produced some effect. The +General fell back, still gazing at his wife; and Flossy, released from +the pressure of his heavy hand, sat up and looked about her with a +strange red light glowing in her eyes. Then, to everybody's horror, she +burst into a fit of wild laughter terrible to hear. + +"He says that he knows his sister!" she cried. "Oh, yes--he knows her +well enough! What maudlin stuff will he talk next? 'Imprudence' in +meeting each other in the wood! I tell you that Sydney Vane loved +me--that he was ready to abandon wife and child for me!" + +"Florence, have mercy! Stop--stop!" cried Hubert. But his sister would +not stop. + +"He was ready to go to the world's end with me, I tell you! We had +arranged to start the next day--we were going to Ceylon, never to come +back again. We meant to be happy because we loved each other. That was +what Hubert found out!" she cried, laughing wildly. "That was what he +tried to stop! That was why he killed Sydney Vane--the man I loved--oh, +Heaven, the man for whom I would have sold my very soul!" + +And then the hysteric passion overcame her, and she fell back in a +frenzy of laughter, sobs, and screams, painful alike to see and hear. +Cynthia, Miss Vane, and Sabina went to her aid. Between them they +carried her into another room, whence her terrible screams resounded at +intervals through the house; and the three men were left alone. The +General sank down upon a chair near the table and hid his face in his +hands. He was breathing heavily, and every now and then a moan escaped +him in the silence of the room. + +"Oh, Heaven," he said, "what have I done that this should come upon me +all at once? What have I done?" + +Hubert, exhausted by the excitement that he had gone through, staggered +to the sofa and threw himself down upon it. Westwood remained in his +former position, grasping the back of a chair and looking from one to +the other, as if he were anxious to help, but knew not how to offer any +assistance. In the silence that prevailed, the sound of heavy footsteps +could be distinctly heard upon the stairs. The police had arrived at +last. + +Almost immediately Cynthia and Sabina Meldreth returned to the room. +They had left Miss Vane with Florence, who seemed more manageable when +her aunt touched her and spoke to her than with anybody else. And, as +soon as they came in, Cynthia went up to Hubert, kissed him, and sat +down beside him, holding her hand in his. But Sabina Meldreth looked +fixedly at the General. + +"Don't take on, sir!" she said, going up to the table and speaking +rather softly. "She ain't worth it--she's a reg'lar bad 'un, she is!" + +"Woman, how dare you!" cried the poor General, starting from his seat, +and turning his discolored face, his bloodshot eyes, angrily upon the +intruder. "I do not believe a word--a word you say! My wife is--is above +reproach--my wife--the mother of my boy!" There was a curious little +hitch in his speech, as if he could not say the words he wanted to say. + +"The mother of your boy!" cried Sabina, with intense scorn. "Much mother +she was to him! Look here, sir! I'll own the truth now, and perhaps it +will soften things a bit to you. The boy was not Mrs. Vane's at all--he +was mine." + +Everyone started. The General uttered an inarticulate cry of rage; then +his head dropped on his hands, and he did not speak again. In vain +Hubert tried to silence the speaker. + +"Keep your story for another time," he said. "There is no need to make +such accusations now. You cannot substantiate them, and you are only +paining General Vane." + +"You'd better ask Miss Enid, sir," said the woman half defiantly, half +desperately. "She knows. It troubled her a good bit as to whether she +ought to tell the General or not; but I believe she decided not. Mrs. +Vane thought that if she married you you would keep her quiet. My mother +confessed it all to Miss Enid on her death-bed. I expect the Rector +knows too by this time. He was always trying to get it out of me." + +"Can this be true?" said Hubert, half to himself and half to the +General. But the old man, with his head bowed upon the table, did not +seem to hear. + +"It's true as Gospel!" said Sabina. "And I don't much care who knows it +now. My prospects are all gone, as far as I can make out. This gentleman +here is not the murderer, it seems, and so I sha'n't get the three +hundred pounds for finding him; and Mrs. Vane's payments will be stopped +now, no doubt. She was giving me two hundred a year. I'll take less if +you like to give me something, sir, for going away and holding my +tongue. When Mrs. Vane knew about--about me, and mother was in trouble +over my misfortune, it was just at the time when your own little baby +was born, sir. It was a boy too, and it died when it was only twelve +hours old. And Mrs. Vane spoke to mother about my baby that was just the +same age; and mother and I both thought it would be a good thing if my +little boy could be made the heir of Beechfield Hall. For in that way +Mrs. Vane's position would be better, and she would be able to pay +mother and me a good round sum. And so we settled it. But now poor +little Dick's dead and gone, and all Mrs. Vane's schemes have come to +naught. Mother always said that there would be a bad ending to the +affair." + +"You seem to have forgotten, young woman," said Andrew Westwood sternly, +"that there is a God above us all who takes care of the innocent and +punishes the guilty." + +"I'd not forgotten it," said Sabina, confronting him with an unabashed +air; "but I hadn't believed it till now." + +At that moment an inspector in plain clothes, who had been hastily +fetched from Scotland Yard, made his way into the room and inquired what +he was wanted for. + +"We shall both have to go with you, I think," said Hubert firmly, +glancing at Westwood as he rose. "I presume that you cannot liberate Mr. +Westwood at once." + +"What--Westwood the convict? I should think not!" said the inspector +briskly; and he made a sign to his men, who stepped forward with a pair +of handcuffs. + +"I shall come quietly enough," said Westwood, with a smile. "You needn't +trouble yourself about the bracelets." + +"Ah, I dare say!" said the inspector. "You've been rather a slippery +customer hitherto, I believe. We'll make sure of you now." + +But Hubert interfered. + +"No, no," he said--"Westwood is innocent! It was I--I who committed the +crime for which he was condemned. Put the handcuffs on me, if on any +one, but not on that innocent man!" + +"Well, this is a rum start!" said the inspector to himself. "You don't +look very fit to run away, sir; we won't trouble you," he said to Hubert +with a friendly smile. "Head wrong, I suppose?" he asked of Cynthia, in +a stage-aside. + +They had some trouble in convincing him that Hubert meant to be taken to +the station with Westwood; and, even when he had heard the story, it was +plain that he did not quite believe it. However, he consented to let +Hubert accompany him and then he remarked that, as it was getting late, +it would be better if his companions started at once. + +"And the old gentleman?" he said, looking at the General with interest. +"Is he coming too?" + +Hubert hesitated. Then he went up to the old man and touched him gently +on the shoulder. + +"Will you not look at me, sir?" he said. "Have you nothing to say to me +before I go?" + +No, he had nothing to say; he would never say anything again. The +General was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +The proceedings relating to Westwood's trial and Hubert Lepel's +confession naturally excited great interest. The whole matter had to be +investigated once more; and it could not be denied that a howl of +indignation at Hubert's conduct went up through the length and breadth +of the land. Even Flossy's indiscretions--to call them by no harsher +name--were not held to excuse him for suppressing the fact that he had +taken Sydney Vane's life, and then allowed Andrew Westwood to suffer the +penalty of a crime which he had not committed. The details that came out +one after another whetted the public appetite to an incredible extent. +And in such a case it soon became evident that no details could be +suppressed at all. Even the fact of the attachment between Hubert and +Cynthia leaked out, although everybody tried hard to keep it a secret; +and great was the wonder excited by Cynthia's steady refusal to give up +the lover who had nearly caused her father's death. + +"She must be a heartless creature indeed!" the busybodies said. "Who +ever heard of such a revolting position? Has her father cast her off? +What a grief it must be to him! It is like a terrible old Greek +tragedy!" + +And, when the busybodies heard that Westwood had not objected to his +child's marriage with Hubert Lepel, and had actually appeared to be +friendly with him, they concluded that all parties concerned must be +equally devoid of the finer qualities of human nature, and that a +painful revelation of baseness and secret vice had just been made. + +But, in spite of public indignation, it was not possible for Hubert +Lepel to receive very severe punishment from the arm of the law. He had +never been examined at Westwood's trial--and the law does not compel a +man to inculpate himself. He was held to have committed manslaughter, +and he was condemned to two years' imprisonment. And Westwood received a +"free pardon" from the Queen--which Cynthia thought a very inadequate +way of testifying to his innocence; and he walked through London streets +a free man once more, and might have been made into a hero had he +chosen, especially when it became known that he was very well off, and +that he had a daughter so beautiful and gifted as the young lady who had +previously been known to the general public as Cynthia West. + +Cynthia was entreated to sing again and again, and was assured that +people would flock to hear her and to see her more than ever. But she +steadily refused to sing in any public place. She could not overcome the +feeling that her audience only came to stare at her as Westwood's +daughter, and not to hear her sing. She withdrew therefore from the +musical profession, and lived a quiet life in London with her father, +who had postponed his departure for a few weeks. He would not return to +America until the close of Hubert Lepel's trial. + +The General's sad death, caused chiefly by excitement, was felt, when +the shock was passed, to be almost a relief for his friends. They all +felt that it would have been sad indeed if the old man had lived to see +himself desolate, his name dragged through the mud, his wife branded +with shame, the boy that he had loved not only laid in the grave, but +known to be no kin to him at all. He could not have borne it; his life +would have been a misery to him; and it was perhaps well that he should +die. His will had been unsigned, and the property therefore passed to +Enid, with the usual "half" to his widow. + +Flossy found herself better off than she had expected to be. She never +seemed to regret her actions, not even the hysterical outburst which had +caused her to confess her guilt and to hasten the General's end. She +declared herself relieved that she had now nothing to conceal. As for +the execration that she met with from all who knew her story, she cared +very little indeed. She refused to see her old acquaintances, and went +abroad as soon as possible. Her lawyer alone knew her address--for she +did not correspond with her English friends; but she was occasionally +heard of at a foreign watering-place, where she posed as an interesting +widow completely misunderstood by a sadly prejudiced world. In time she +married again, and it was said that her husband, a Russian nobleman, +ill-treated-her; but Flossy was quite capable of holding her own against +any number of Russia noblemen, and it was more likely that he suffered +at her hands than she at his. In the wild Northern lands however she +finally made her home; and she announced to her lawyer her determination +never to set foot in England again. A traveller who afterwards came +across her in Russian reported to her relatives that she was looking +haggard and worn, that she was said to take chloral regularly, and that +she suffered from some obscure disease of the nerves for which no doctor +could find a cure. And thus she passed out of the lives of her English +friends--unloved, unmourned, unhappy, and, in spite of wealth and title, +unsuccessful in all that she tried to attain. + +Enid, the owner of Beechfield Hall, took a dislike to the place, and +would not live in it for many a long day. She remained with Miss Vane +until a year had passed after the General's death, and then she married +Mr. Evandale and took up her abode at the Rectory. She made an ideal +parson's wife. Her health had grown stronger in the quiet atmosphere of +Miss Vane's home; and, curiously enough, she never had another of her +strange "seizures" after her departure from Beechfield Hall. She herself +always believed that she had conquered them by an effort of will; but +Mr. Evandale was disposed to think that she had been occasionally put +under the influence of some drug by Mrs. Vane, and that Mrs. Vane had +either wished to remove her altogether from her path or undermine her +health and intellect completely. At a later date she had grown tired of +this method, and tried to take a quicker way; but in this attempt she +had been foiled. Parker remained in Enid's service, and made a faithful +nurse, devoted to her mistress and her mistress's children, and above +all devoted to her master, who had spoken to her gently of her past, and +given her new hope for the future. + +And, when the little Evandales began to overflow the Rectory nurseries, +Enid managed to conquer her distaste for the stately old Hall that had +stood empty for so many years, and came thither with her family to fill +the vacant rooms with merry faces, and to chase away all ghosts of a +tragic past by the sound of eager voices, of laughter, and of pattering +feet. And then a deeper love for the old home, now grown so beautiful +and dear, stirred within her; and in time she even marvelled at herself +that she had stayed away so long from Beechfield Hall. + +Sabina Meldreth developed in a curious direction. The Rector "got hold +of her," as he expressed it, and managed to lay his finger on the soft +spot in her heart. It proved to be a remorseful love for delicate +children; and this trait of character became her salvation. She never +talked of the past or said that she repented; but she gave herself +little by little, with strange steadfastness and thoroughness, to the +service of sick children in hospitals. She went through a nurse's +training, and got an engagement as nurse in the Great Ormond Street +Hospital for Children. Here she seemed happy; and the children loved +her--which some people thought odd, because she preserved a good deal of +her roughness of manner and abruptness of speech in ordinary life. But +she was made of finer fibre than one would have imagined, and children +never found her harsh or unkind or unsympathetic. The memory of little +Dick remained with her perhaps, but she never spoke of him. + +During the months of Hubert's imprisonment Cynthia did not correspond +with him. He had asked her not to do so. Her letters would of course +have been overlooked. All that she could do until the trial was over was +to send him flowers, which he was permitted to receive; and very dear +those boxes of rare blossoms soon became to him. He spent a great part +of his time in the infirmary; for his strength had been very much tried +during the time of his convalescence, and it often seemed as if his +anticipations were to be realised, and as if his term of punishment +would not last very long. Cynthia had made him promise that she should +be summoned to his side if he were absolutely in danger. For many a week +she used to be half afraid to look at her letters in the morning, lest +the dread summons should be amongst them; but, after a time, her courage +began to revive, and she dared--yes, she actually dared--to hope for a +brighter future. But, when the term of his imprisonment began, she knew +that she must wait patiently for its end before the cloud of darkness +was lifted from her life. + +"It's about time we was getting back to the States, I reckon," her +father said to her one day. + +"So soon, father?" + +"What should we stay in England for?" he asked, without glancing at her. +"I want to get back to my work; and I want to show you the place, and +see about the new house." + +For at times he drew glowing pictures of the house that he intended to +build for Cynthia some day. Cynthia used to smile and listen very +sweetly. She never contradicted him; she only grew a little abstracted +now and then when he waxed very eloquent, and drew the needle a little +faster through the work that she now affected. He did not usually seem +to notice her silence; but on this occasion he broke out rather +petulantly. + +"One would think you took no interest in it at all! You might sometimes +remember that it's all for you." + +"I do remember it, father dear--and I am very grateful." + +"Well, then," said Westwood, at once restored to cheerfulness, "just you +look here at these plans. I've been talking to an architect, and this is +the drawing he's made for me. Nice mansion that, isn't it? You see, +there's the ground-floor--a study for me, and a drawing-room and a +morning-room, and all sorts of things for you; and here's a wing which +can be added on or not, as is required. Because," he went on rather +quickly and nervously, "if you was to marry out there, you could set up +house-keeping with him, you know; and, when the family grew too large +for the house, we could just add room after room--here, you see--until +we had enough." + +"Yes, father." And then Cynthia added with simplicity, which was perhaps +a little assumed. "Miss Enid Vane says that Hubert will be ordered to +the Riviera for the winter when--when he is free." + +"What has that to do with it?" said Westwood, rolling up his plans and +moving a few steps away from her. + +"Only that perhaps we had better not think too much about the house, +father. We might not be able to come to it." + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" her father said slowly. "You're still thinking +of Mr. Lepel, Cynthia?" + +"Yes, father dear." + +"You mean to marry the man that would have seen me hang and never said a +word to save me?" + +"He would not have done that, you know, father. He spoke out at last, in +order to save you from being rearrested. And you gave me your consent +before----" + +"Ay, before I knew that he had done the deed! I thought that his sister +had done it, and that he was keeping her secret, when I gave my consent, +my girl. It makes a deal of difference." + +"Not to me," said Cynthia quietly. "He did wrong; but I learned to love +him before I knew the story; and I can't leave off loving him now." + +Westwood sat down and began rapping the table with his roll of plans in +a meditative manner. + +"Women are curious folk," he said at last. "When a man's prosperous, +they nag at him and make his life a weariness to him; but, when he's in +trouble, they can't be too faithful nor too fond. It's awkward +sometimes." + +"But it's their nature, you see, father," said Cynthia, smiling a little +as she folded up her work. + +"I suppose it is. And I suppose--being one of them--it's nothing to you +that this man's name has been cried high and low throughout the British +Empire as a monster of iniquity, a base cowardly villain, so afraid of +being found out that he nearly let another man swing for him--that's +nothing to you, eh?" + +Cynthia's cheeks burned. + +"It is nothing to me because it is not true," she said. "I know the +world says so; but the world is wrong. He is not cowardly--he is not +base; he has a noble heart. And when he did wrong it was for his +sister's sake and to save her from punishment--not for his own. Oh, +father, you never spoke so hardly of him before!" + +"I am only repeating what the world says," replied Westwood stolidly. "I +am not stating my own private opinion. What the world says is a very +important thing, Cynthia." + +"I don't care for what it says!" cried Cynthia impatiently. + +"But I care--not for myself, but for you. And we've got to pay some +attention to it--you and I and the man you marry, whoever he may be." + +"It will be Hubert Lepel or nobody, father." + +"It may be Hubert; but it won't be Hubert Lepel with my consent. He has +no call to be very proud of his name that I can see. Look here, Cynthia! +When he comes out, you can tell him this from me--he may marry you if +he'll take the name of 'Westwood' and give up that of 'Lepel'. Many a +man does that, I'm told, when he comes into a fortune. Well, you're a +fortune in yourself, besides what I've got to leave you. If he won't do +that, he won't do much for you." + +"I am not ashamed of his name," said Cynthia, with a little tremor in +her voice. + +"Well, perhaps not; but I'd rather it was so. I don't think I'm +unreasonable, my dear. 'Lepel' isn't a common name, and it's too well +known. As 'Mrs. Hubert Westwood' you will escape remark much more easily +than as 'Mrs. Hubert Lepel.' I don't think it is too much to ask; and +it's the one condition I make before I give my consent to his marrying +you." + +"I will tell him, father. Perhaps he will not mind." + +"If he minds, he won't be worthy of you--that's all I've got to say," +said Westwood, rising to his feet and preparing to leave the room. + +But Cynthia intercepted him: + +"Father, if he consents, you will forgive him, will you not?" she said +putting her hands on his shoulder and looking anxiously into his eyes. + +"Forgive him, my dear? Well, I suppose I have done that, or I shouldn't +say that he might marry you at all." + +"And you will forget the past, and love him a little for my sake?" + +"I'm bound to love the people you love, Cynthy," said the old man +stooping to kiss the beautiful face, and patting her cheek with his roll +of plans; "and I don't think you've got any call to feel afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +The newspapers had cried out that Hubert Lepel's two years were a +miserably insufficient punishment for the crime of which he had been +guilty; but to Cynthia it seemed as if those two years were an eternity. +She did not talk about him to any one; she interested herself apparently +in the affairs of her father's house; she made a thousand occupations +for herself in the new land to which she had gone. Occasionally she had +a letter--which she dearly prized--from Enid Vane, and in these letters +she heard a little now and then about Hubert; but, after Enid's +marriage, the letters became less frequent, and at last ceased +altogether. And then she knew that the two years were over, and that +Hubert must be free. + +Free--or dead! She sometimes had a keen darting fear that she would +never see his face again. His health had suffered very much in +confinement, she had learnt from Enid's letters; and she knew that he +had seemed very weak and ill during those terrible days of his trial for +manslaughter. She could never think of them without a shiver. How had +the two years ended for him? Was he a wreck, without hope without +energy, without strength, coming out of prison only to die? Cynthia +brooded over these possibilities until sleep fled from her eyes and the +color from her cheeks. Her father looked at her now and then with +anxious, grieving eyes; but he did not say a word. She noticed however +that he greatly advocated the good qualities of a fine young Scotchman +called MacPhail, who had lately settled on an estate in the +neighborhood, and had shown a great inclination for Cynthia's society. +Westwood was never tired of praising his good looks, his manly ways, his +abilities, and his intelligence, and of calculating openly, in his +daughter's hearing, the amount of wealth of which he was sure MacPhail +was possessed. Cynthia grew impatient of these praises before long. + +"Dear father," she said, taking his grizzled head between her hands one +day and kissing it, "I like your Mr. MacPhail very well; but I shall get +tired of him very soon if you are always praising him so much." + +"But you do like him, Cynthy?" said her father, turning round hastily. + +"Oh, yes--I think that he is a very estimable young man! I know all his +good points by heart; but I can't say that I find him interesting." + +"Interesting?" echoed Westwood. "What do you mean, Cynthy? Isn't he +clever enough for you?" + +"He is clever enough for anybody, no doubt," said Cynthia, with a little +laugh. "But he never reads, he never thinks--except about his stock--and +he isn't even a gentleman." + +"Neither am I, Cynthia, my dear," said her father sorrowfully. + +"You, you darling old man," said the girl lightly--"as if you were not +one of Nature's gentlemen, and the dearest and noblest of men to boot! +If he were like you, father, I should think twice as much of him;" and +she put her arm round his neck and kissed him. + +Westwood's face beamed. + +"You're not ashamed of your old father?" he said delightedly. "Bless +you, my girl! What I shall do when the time comes for me to lose you, +I'm sure I don't know!" + +"You are not likely to lose me father. I shall probably stay with you +always," said Cynthia rather sadly. But she brightened up when she saw +his questioning face. "You and I shall always keep house together, shall +we not?" + +"Don't you think, Cynthia," said he, detaining her as she was about to +move away, "that we might take MacPhail into partnership some of these +days?" + +"Partnership?" she repeated, not seeing his drift at first. "What do +you want with a partner, father? Is there too much for you to do? Or +haven't you enough capital? Why should you want a partner?" + +"It isn't a partner for myself that I'm talking about, my pretty. I want +a son--and the partner would be for you. In plain words, Donald MacPhail +is head over ears in love with you Cynthia. Couldn't you bring yourself +to look upon him as your husband, don't you think?" + +"No, I could not," said Cynthia quickly and decisively. "There is only +one man whom I could think of--and you know who that one is. If I do not +marry him, I will marry nobody at all." + +Westwood sighed and looked dispirited, but said no more. + +Cynthia exerted herself to be particularly frigid to Mr. MacPhail when +he next visited the house, and succeeded so well that the young +Scotchman was utterly dismayed by her demeanor, and was not seen there +again for many a long day. + +Mr. MacPhail was not the only suitor that Cynthia had to send about his +business. She was too handsome, too winning, to escape remark in a place +where attractive women were rather rare. Her father used afterwards to +observe, with a chuckle of delight, that she had had an offer from every +eligible young man--and from some that were not eligible--within a +circuit of sixty miles around his homestead; but Cynthia did not +altogether like the recollection. + +They did not often see English newspapers; but at this time Westwood +took to poring over any that he could obtain from neighbors or from the +nearest town. One day Cynthia saw that a copy of the _Standard_ was +lying in a very conspicuous position on her writing-table. She took it +up and read the announcement of the death at her own house of Leonora +Vane, aged sixty-nine. She wondered a little that Enid had not written +to tell her of Miss Vane's death; and then the tears fell slowly from +her eyes, as she considered how completely she was now cut off from the +Vanes and all their concerns--as completely as if she herself had +"passed to where beyond these voices there is peace." The old life was +over; she had come to a new world where all her duties lay; and the +past, with its vigorous life, its passionate emotions, its intense joys, +its bitter pains, existed for her no more. + +And yet she could not forget it; absorb herself as she would in +household cares, busy herself as she would with her father's +requirements and the needs of her poorer neighbors--and for these +Cynthia was a centre of all that was beneficent and beautiful--moments +would come when the present seemed to her like a dream and the past the +only reality. When had she lived so fully as when she knew from Hubert's +lips the meaning of his love for her--of her love for him? Life would be +dull and gray indeed if it contained no memory of those exquisite, +passionate moments! For these, the rest of her existence was a mere +setting; and for these she knew well enough that she was glad that she +had lived. + +Thus she sat thinking, with her cheek upon her hand and the tears wet +upon her long dark lashes; and she did not hear the footsteps of any one +approaching until her father touched her on the shoulder and said-- + +"Cynthy, here's visitors!" + +Then she looked up. At first she saw only the ruddy, face and reddish +hair of the admirable MacPhail, and she rose to her feet with an +impatient little sigh. After MacPhail came another neighbor--a tall thin +man with a military bearing, generally known as "the Colonel," though it +was not clear that he had ever held any rank in the army. And after +these two a stranger followed--also a tall man, thin, dark, grave, with +eyes that seemed to Cynthia like those of one who had returned from +beyond the grave. + +A start like a sort of electric shock ran through Cynthia's frame. It +was impossible for her to speak, to do more than extend her hand in +silence to each of the new-comers. And then she looked once more upon +her lover's face--upon the face of Hubert Lepel. In the presence of her +father and the two comparative strangers, she could not even utter a +word of greeting. Her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and she +dared not even raise her eyes. + +Hubert seemed at first as tongue-tied as herself; but presently, she +heard him talking in a quiet unobtrusive way, as if he and "the Colonel" +were old friends; and it transpired that the two had met during Hubert's +previous wanderings in America, and that they had seen a good deal of +the world together. + +Before long, all four men were busily engaged on a comparison of +America and England and in a discussion on contemporary politics, and +Cynthia was able to devote herself to household duties and the +entertainment of her guests. Hubert was staying in Colonel Morton's +house, she found, and they had met Mr. Westwood and MacPhail when they +were having a long tramp over the hills; and, strangely enough, Westwood +had immediately asked both men to dinner. + +It was not until the meal was over and the men had gone out to smoke in +the pleasant piazza, with its clustering vines which adorned the front +of Westwood's house, that Cynthia had a moment in which to compare her +present impressions with her past. It struck her that Hubert looked +older, as well as graver and sadder, and perhaps more dignified. His +hair was turning gray and thin at the temples; his moustache was also +streaked with white--bleached, as Cynthia knew, by trouble, not by age. +He was thin, but he looked stronger than when she saw him last; and his +gait was firm and elastic. His face was slightly tanned--probably by the +sun and sea-air in his recent expedition from England--and the brown hue +gave him a look of health and vigor which he had not possessed in +England. But the change in his expression was more striking to Cynthia +than any alteration in physical aspect. His eyes had lost their anxious +restlessness, his mouth was set as if in steadfast resolution; his brow +was calm. He looked like a man who had gone "through much tribulation," +but had come out victor at the last. + +And Cynthia--was she changed? He had thought so when he came upon her +that afternoon; but his heart had yearned over her all the more fondly +for the change. He had never seen her so thin, so pale, so worn; the +dark eyes had not been set in such hollows of shadow when he last saw +her; the cheeks had never before been so colorless. He felt that she had +suffered for him--that she had borne his punishment with himself; and +the thought made it difficult for him to restrain himself from falling +at her feet and kissing the very hem of her garment as he looked at her. +But at dinner she looked more like her old beautiful self. She was in +black when he arrived; but she came to dinner in a pretty gown of +cream-colored embroidered muslin, with a bunch of crimson flowers at her +bosom. The color had come back to her cheeks too, and the light to her +eyes--he saw that, though he could not get her to look at him. + +Cynthia sat in the window, not daring to join the party on the +piazza--hoping perhaps that one of them would separate himself from the +others and come to her. Hubert was walking with her father now--up and +down, up and down, deep in talk. Was it merely talk of politics and +farming and common things? + +She saw them withdraw to a corner of the piazza where they could +converse unheard by their companions. Westwood was smoking; but his +speech was fluent, Cynthia could see; he was laying down the law, +emphasising his sentences by an outstretched finger, blowing great rings +of smoke into the air between some of his remarks. Hubert listened and +seemed to assent. His head was bowed, his arms were folded across his +chest; he looked--Cynthia could not help the thought--like a prisoner +receiving sentence, a penitent before his judge. Westwood turned to him +at last, as if awaiting an answer--the moonlight was on his face, and +showed it to be grave and anxious, but unmistakably kind. Hubert raised +his head and made some answer; and then--Cynthia's heart began to beat +very fast indeed--her father held out his hand. The two men grasped each +other's hands warmly and silently for a moment, then both turned away. +Westwood took out a great red handkerchief and blew his nose vehemently; +Hubert leaned for a moment against the balustrade and put his hand +across his eyes. Cynthia's own eyes swam in sympathetic tears as she +strove to imagine what had been said. In that moment her love for Hubert +was almost less than her love for her father--the man who, in spite of +lawless instincts, faulty training, great misfortunes and mistakes, had +a nature that was large enough and grand enough to know how to forgive. + +Her eyes were so blinded with tears that she saw but indistinctly that +her father was coming across the piazza to the long open window by which +she sat. She drew herself back a little, so as to be out of the range of +vision of the Colonel and Mr. MacPhail. She knew that the crisis of her +fate was come. + +"Cynthia, my dear," said her father's homely ragged voice--how dear it +had grown, she felt that she had never known till now--"here's a +gentleman wants to have a word with you. And he has my good wishes and +my friendship, dearie; and that's a thing that I thought you'd like to +know. He calls it my forgiveness; but we know--we understand--it's all +the same. I'll leave him with you, my beauty, and you can say to each +other what you please." And then he kissed her very tenderly and turned +away. + +She felt that Hubert had followed him, and had stepped into the room; +but she could not raise her eyes. + +She was obliged to see him however when he knelt down before her, and +put his clasped hands very gently upon her knee. + +"Cynthia," said his voice--the other voice that she loved to hear--"your +father says that he has forgiven me. Can you forgive?" + +She put her hand upon his, and a great tear fell down her cheeks. + +"I have nothing to urge in my defence," he said. "If you like to punish +me--to send me away from you for ever--I know that I shall have deserved +my fate. I dare not ask for anything from you, Cynthia, except your +forgiveness. May I hope to gain that?" + +"If my father has forgiven you," she said a little hurriedly, "I cannot +do less." + +There was a little silence. He bowed his head and touched with his lips +the slender fingers that rested lightly upon his own joined hands. He +felt that she trembled at the touch. + +"What is to be my fate, Cynthia? I put my life into your hands. I owe it +to your father and to you." + +"What do you want it to be?" she asked softly, but with an effort of +which he was profoundly conscious and ashamed. + +"Oh, my love, my only love, you know what I desire!" he said, with +sudden passion; and for the first time he raised his head and looked +into her face. "I dare not ask--I am not worthy! If there is anything +that you can bear to say--to give me--you must do it of your own free +will; I cannot ask you for anything." + +"But you know," said Cynthia, looking at him at last, and letting, the +gleam of a smile appear through the tears that filled her eyes, "a woman +likes to be asked." + +And then, when their eyes had once met, their lips met too, and there +was no need for him to ask her anything. + +But, when there was no longer any need, he found it easier to ask +questions. + +"Cynthia, my darling, do you love me?" + +"With my whole heart, Hubert!" + +"And will you--will you really--be--my wife?" + +"Yes, Hubert." + +"And you forgive me? Oh, that is more wonderful than all! You bow me to +the earth with your goodness--you and your father, Cynthia! What can I +do to be worthy of it? He is going to give me his name as well as +yourself; and Heaven knows that I will do my best to keep it clean!" + +His head sank on her bosom. + +"Hubert," she said, "you must not talk in that way! Do you think that I +should ever be ashamed of your name, darling? It is just that my father +has no son, and does not want his old name to die out. If you will +sacrifice your name, instead of my sacrificing mine, as women generally +do, you will make him very happy and very proud of you. He wants a son, +and you will be as a son to him, Hubert darling, will you not?" + +And so the treaty was ratified. + +Hubert and Cynthia were married in three weeks; and the marriage turned +out an uncommonly happy one. Contrary to even Cynthia's expectations, +Westwood and his son-in-law became the very best of friends. Westwood +was proud of Hubert's literary knowledge, of his former social standing, +of his many gifts and accomplishments. It was he who one day proposed +that Hubert should go back to the name of Lepel--the name by which he +had been known in the literary and dramatic world, and by which he would +perhaps be remembered long after "the Beechfield tragedy" was forgotten. +But Hubert refused. He was too proud of the new name that he had won, he +said, ever to give it up. As for literature, he had no inclination for +it now. In this new home, in a new world, with father, wife, and boys +beside him, and a political career which opened out a future such as he +had never dreamed of when he was writing his plays and poems in Russell +Square--a future made easy to him by Westwood's position and character +in the States, and also by the large fortune which Miss Vane had left +him unconditionally on her death--he had no wish to change his lot in +life. Out of evil had come good; but only through repentance and the +valley of humiliation, without which he would indeed have gone wearily +and sadly to an end without honor and without peace. But he had won a +great victory; and he was not without his great reward. + + + + + THE END. + + + + + +---------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Notes: | + | Page 11: Changed "at a friend" to "as a friend" | + | Page 18: Changed "closed first" to "closed fist" | + | Page 31: Changed "her sister" to "his sister" | + | Page 122: Changed "infringment" to "infringement" | + | Page 142: Changed "insistance" to "insistence" | + | Page 148: Changed "freinds" to "friends" | + | Page 151: Changed "cutseyed" to "curtseyed" | + | Page 155: Changed "bettter" to "better" | + | Page 176: Changed "delighful" to "delightful" | + | Page 229: Changed "mediated" to "meditated" | + | Page 242: Changed "Kensingston" to "Kensington" | + | Page 243: Changed "remenber" to "remember" | + | Page 274: Changed "profond" to "profound" | + | Page 280: Changed "lovelinesss" to "loveliness" | + | Page 307: Changed "grevious" to "grievous" | + | Page 345: Changed "thoughful" to "thoughtful" | + | Page 379: Changed "word" to "world" | + +---------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Life Sentence, by Adeline Sergeant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE SENTENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31984.txt or 31984.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/8/31984/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse, Joseph R. +Hauser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Canadian Institute for +Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +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. 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