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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42906 ***
+
+  GREAT PORTER SQUARE:
+  A MYSTERY.
+
+  BY
+  B. L. FARJEON,
+  _Author of "Grif," "London's Heart," "The House of White
+  Shadows," etc._
+
+  _IN THREE VOLUMES._
+  VOLUME II.
+
+  LONDON:
+  WARD AND DOWNEY,
+  12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
+  1885.
+  [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
+
+
+
+
+  PRINTED BY
+  KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS:
+  AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAP.                                                        PAGE
+      XX.--The "Evening Moon" concludes its narrative, and
+            affords a further insight into the child-like and
+            volatile character of Lydia Holdfast                   1
+
+     XXI.--Richard Manx makes love to "sweet Becky"               31
+
+    XXII.--In which Becky gives way to her feelings, and renews
+            an old acquaintance                                   42
+
+   XXIII.--"Justice" sends a letter to the Editor of the
+            "Evening Moon"                                        62
+
+    XXIV.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement                         88
+
+     XXV.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement (continued)             96
+
+    XXVI.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement (continued)            125
+
+   XXVII.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement (continued)            158
+
+  XXVIII.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement (continued)            189
+
+    XXIX.--Frederick Holdfast's Statement (concluded)            219
+
+     XXX.--Becky's reply to her Lover's Statement                245
+
+
+
+
+GREAT PORTER SQUARE:
+
+A MYSTERY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+  THE "EVENING MOON" CONCLUDES ITS NARRATIVE, AND AFFORDS A FURTHER
+    INSIGHT INTO THE CHILD-LIKE AND VOLATILE CHARACTER OF LYDIA
+    HOLDFAST.
+
+
+In the hope of her husband's return, and looking forward with sweet
+mysterious delight to the moment when she would hold her baby to her
+breast, Mrs. Holdfast was a perfectly happy woman--a being to be envied.
+She had some cause for anxiety in the circumstance that she did not hear
+from her husband, but she consoled herself with the reflection that his
+last letter to her afforded a sufficient explanation of his silence.
+She mentally followed his movements as the days passed by. Some little
+time would be occupied in settling his son's affairs; the young man most
+likely died in debt. Mr. Holdfast would not rest satisfied until he
+had ascertained the exact extent of his unhappy son's liabilities, and
+had discharged them. With Frederick's death must be cleared away the
+dishonour of his life.
+
+"Now that he was dead," said the widow, "I was ready to pity and forgive
+him."
+
+Her baby was born, and her husband had not returned. Day after day
+she looked for news of him, until she worked herself into a fever of
+anxiety. The result was that she became ill, and was ordered into the
+country for fresher air. But she could not rest. Her husband's return
+appeared to be delayed beyond reasonable limits. Could anything have
+happened to him in the wild part of the world in which Frederick had
+met his death? She did not dream that in the tragedy which had occurred
+in the very heart of London, the murder in Great Porter Square, with
+which all the country was ringing, lay the answer to her fears. In her
+delicate state of health she avoided the excitement of the newspapers,
+and for weeks did not look at one. Thus, when her health was to some
+extent established, and she had returned to her house in London, she had
+no knowledge of the murder, and was in ignorance of the few particulars
+relating to it which the police had been enabled to bring to light.
+She knew nothing of the arrest of Antony Cowlrick, of the frequent
+adjournments at the police-court, and of the subsequent release of this
+man whose movements have been enveloped in so much mystery.
+
+It happened during her illness that a friend, who witnessed the anxiety
+of her mind and sympathised with her, wrote to America for information
+concerning Mr. Holdfast, anticipating that the reply to his letter would
+enable him to communicate good news to her; and it also happened, most
+singularly, after a lapse of time, that it was to this very friend Mrs.
+Holdfast appealed for advice as to how she should act.
+
+"I felt as if I was going mad," are the widow's words. "I could endure
+the terrible suspense no longer."
+
+She called upon her friend, not being aware that he had written to
+America on her behalf. On the table was a letter with the American
+post-mark on the envelope, and as her friend, in a hurried manner, rose
+to receive her, she observed that he placed his hand upon this letter,
+as though wishing to conceal it from her sight. But her quick eyes had
+already detected it.
+
+"I did not know," she said, after she had explained the motive of her
+visit, "that you had correspondence with America."
+
+He glanced at his hand, which still covered the letter, and his face
+became troubled.
+
+"This," he said, "is in answer to a special letter I sent to the States
+concerning Mr. Holdfast."
+
+"Ah," she cried, "then I am interested in it!"
+
+"Yes," he replied, "you are interested in it."
+
+Her suspicions were aroused. "Is that the reason," she asked, "why you
+seek to hide it from me?"
+
+"I would not," he replied, "increase your anxiety. Can you bear a great
+shock?"
+
+"Anything--anything," she cried, "rather than this terrible torture of
+silence and mystery!"
+
+"I wrote to America," then said her friend, "to an agent, requesting him
+to ascertain how and where your husband was. An hour before you entered
+the room I received his answer. It is here. It will be best to hide
+nothing from you. I will read what my correspondent says." He opened
+the letter, and read: "I have made inquiries after Mr. Holdfast, and am
+informed, upon undoubted authority, that he left America for England
+some weeks ago."
+
+Mrs. Holdfast's friend read this extract without comment, but Mrs.
+Holdfast did not appear to realize the true import of the information.
+
+"Do you not understand?" asked her friend. "Mr. Holdfast, some weeks
+ago, left America for England."
+
+"Impossible," said the bewildered woman; "if he were here--in England--I
+should not be with you at this moment, asking you to assist me to find
+him."
+
+Her friend was silent.
+
+"Help me!" she implored. "Do you think he is here?"
+
+"I am certain that he has left America," was the reply.
+
+A new fear assailed her. "Perhaps," she whispered, "the ship he sailed
+in was wrecked."
+
+"That is not probable," said her friend. "Mr. Holdfast, as a man of
+the world and a gentleman of means, undoubtedly took passage in a fast
+steamer. In all human probability your husband landed at Liverpool
+within nine or ten days of his departure from New York."
+
+"And then?" asked Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"Who can say what happened to him them? It is, of course, certain that
+his desire was to come to you without delay."
+
+"He would not have lingered an hour," said Mrs. Holdfast. "An hour!
+He would not have lingered a moment. He would be only too eager,
+too anxious, to rejoin me. And there was another motive for his
+impatience--his child, whose face he has never seen, whose lips he has
+never kissed! Unhappy woman that I am!"
+
+Her friend waited until she had somewhat mastered her grief, and then he
+asked her a question which opened up another channel for fear.
+
+"Was your husband in the habit of carrying much money about with him?"
+
+"A large sum; always a large sum. He often had as much as a thousand
+pounds in notes in his pocket-book."
+
+"It was injudicious."
+
+"He was most careless in money matters," said Mrs. Holdfast; "he would
+open his pocket-book in the presence of strangers, recklessly and
+without thought. More than once I have said to him that I should not
+wonder if he was robbed of it one day. But even in that case--suppose
+he _had_ incited some wretch's cupidity; suppose he _was_ robbed--it
+would not have prevented him from hastening to me and his child."
+
+"Do not imagine," said her friend, "that in what I am about to say I
+desire to add to your difficulties and distress of mind. The length
+of time since you have heard from your husband--the fact that he left
+America and landed in England--make the case alarming. Your husband is
+not a man who would calmly submit to an outrage. Were an attempt made to
+rob him he would resist."
+
+"Indeed he would--at the hazard of his life."
+
+"You have put into words the fear which assails me."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Holdfast, clinging to every argument against the
+horrible suspicion now engendered, "had anything of the kind happened,
+it would have been in the newspapers, and would have been brought to my
+ears."
+
+"There are such things," said her friend, impressively, "as mysterious
+disappearances. Men have been robbed and murdered, and never more heard
+of. Men have left their homes, in the midst of crowded cities, intending
+to return within an hour, and have disappeared for ever."
+
+It is easier to imagine than to describe the state of Mrs. Holdfast's
+mind at these words. They seemed, as she expressed it, "to drain her
+heart of hope."
+
+"What would you advise me to do?" she asked, faintly.
+
+"To go at once to a lawyer," was the sensible answer, "and place the
+matter in his hands. Not an hour is to be lost; and the lawyer you
+consult should be one who is familiar with criminal cases. I have the
+address of such a gentleman, and I should recommend you to drive to his
+office immediately, and lay the whole case before him."
+
+Mrs. Holdfast took the advice given to her, and drove at once to the
+lawyer who was recommended to her. He listened to her story, and allowed
+her to tell it in her own way without interruption; and when she had
+finished, he put a variety of questions to her, many of which appeared
+to her trivial and unnecessary. Before she left the office the lawyer
+said,
+
+"If your husband is in England, we will find him for you."
+
+With this small modicum of comfort she was fain to be satisfied; but as
+she rode home she shuddered to think that she had seen on the lawyer's
+lips the unspoken words, "dead or alive." That is what the lawyer meant
+to express: "If your husband is in England, we will find him for you,
+dead or alive." Another of his actions haunted her. At a certain point
+of the conversation, the lawyer had paused, and upon a separate sheet of
+paper had made the following memorandum--"Look up the murders. How about
+the murder in Great Porter Square?" She was curious to see what it
+was he had written with so serious an air, and she rose and looked at
+the paper, and read the words. How dreadful they were! "Look up the
+murders. How about the murder in Great Porter Square?" The appalling
+significance of the memorandum filled her with terrible forbodings.
+
+But what were the particulars of the murder in Great Porter Square, of
+which till now she had never heard, and what possible relation could
+they bear to her? She could not wait for the lawyer; she had placed the
+matter in his hands, but the issue at stake was too grave for her to sit
+idly down and make no effort herself to reach the heart of the mystery.
+That very evening she ascertained that in a certain house, No. 119 Great
+Porter Square, a cruel murder had been committed, and that the murdered
+man had not been identified. On the date of this murder she was in the
+country, endeavouring by quietude to regain her health and peace of
+mind; her baby at that time was nearly two months old, and for weeks
+before the date and for weeks afterwards she had not read a newspaper.
+Now that she learned that the murder might, even by the barest
+possibility, afford a clue to the mystery in which she was involved,
+she felt as if it would be criminal in her to sleep until she had made
+herself fully acquainted with all the details of the dreadful deed. She
+went from shop to shop, and purchased a number of newspapers containing
+accounts of the discovery of the murder, and of the accusation brought
+against Antony Cowlrick. When the lawyer called upon her the following
+morning he found her deeply engaged in the study of these papers. He
+made no remark, divining the motive for this painful duty.
+
+"I have not closed my eyes all night," she said to him plaintively.
+"Where is Great Porter Square?"
+
+"My dear lady," he replied, "it is not necessary for you to know the
+locality of this terrible crime. It will not help you to go there.
+Remain quiet, and leave the matter with me. I have already done
+something towards the clearing-up of the mystery. Do not agitate
+yourself needlessly; you will require all your strength."
+
+He then asked her if she had a portrait of her husband. She had a
+photograph, taken at her request the day before their marriage.
+
+"Mr. Holdfast was above these small vanities," she said, and suddenly
+checked herself, crying, "Good God! What did I say? _Was_ above them!
+_Is_ above them, I mean. He cannot be dead--he cannot, he cannot be
+dead! I had to persuade him to have the picture taken. It is here--in
+this locket."
+
+She gave her lawyer the locket, and he departed with it. When he called
+upon her again in the evening, his manner was very grave and sad.
+
+"Did your husband make a will?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she replied, "and gave it me in a sealed envelope. I have it
+upstairs, in a safe, in which I keep my jewels. It is dated on the day
+on which he forbade his son Frederick ever again to enter his house.
+Would you like to see it?"
+
+"It will be as well," said the lawyer, "for you to place it in my care.
+I shall not break the seal until the present inquiry is terminated. It
+will be very soon--very soon. Are you strong enough to hear some bad
+news, or will you wait till to-morrow? Yes, yes--it will be better to
+wait till to-morrow. A good night's rest----"
+
+She interrupted him impetuously. It would be death to her to wait, she
+declared, and she implored him to tell her the worst at once. Reluctant
+as he was, he saw that it would be the wisest course, and he told her,
+as tenderly and considerately as he could, that the portrait she had
+given him exactly resembled the description of the man who was found
+murdered in Great Porter Square.
+
+"To-morrow morning," he said, "we shall obtain the order to exhume the
+body. A most harrowing and painful task awaits you. It will be necessary
+for you to attend and state, to the best of your belief, whether the
+body is that of your lost husband?"
+
+Our readers will guess how this painful inquiry terminated. Mr. Holdfast
+bore upon his person certain marks which rendered identification an easy
+task; a scar on his left wrist, which in his youth had been cut to the
+bone; a broken tooth, and other signs, have placed beyond the shadow of
+a doubt the fact that he is the man who took a room on the first floor
+of No. 119 Great Porter Square, and was there ruthlessly and strangely
+murdered on the night of the 10th of July. So far, therefore, the
+mystery is cleared up.
+
+But the identification of the body of the murdered man as that of a
+gentleman of great wealth, with a charming wife, and shortly after
+the strange death of his son Frederick, who was the only person whose
+life was likely to mar his happiness--the facts that this gentleman
+arrived in London, and did not return immediately to his home; that he
+proceeded, instead, to a common Square in a poor neighbourhood, and
+engaged a room without giving his name; that during the few days he
+lived there he received only one visitor, a lady who came and went
+closely veiled--these facts have added new and interesting elements of
+mystery to the shocking affair. Whether they will assist in bringing the
+murderer to justice remains to be seen.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast has been and is most frank and open in her communications
+to our Reporter, who, it will be presently seen, has not confined his
+inquiries to this lady alone. In other circumstances it would have been
+natural, on the part of Mrs. Holdfast, that she should have been less
+communicative on the subject of the domestic trouble between herself and
+Mr. Holdfast and his son; but as she justly observed,
+
+"Perhaps by and bye something may occur which will render it necessary
+that I shall be examined. The murderer may be discovered--I shall pray,
+day and night, that he or she may be arrested! In that case, I should
+have to appear as a witness, and should have to tell all I know. Then
+I might be asked why I concealed all these unhappy differences between
+father and son. I should not know how to answer. No; I will conceal
+nothing; then they can't blame me. And if it will only help, in the
+smallest way, to discover the wretch who has killed the noblest
+gentleman that ever lived, I shall be more than ever satisfied that I
+have done what is right."
+
+We yield to this lady our fullest admiration for the courageous course
+she has pursued. She has not studied her own feelings; she has laid
+bare a story of domestic trouble and treachery as strange as the most
+ingenious drama on the French stage could present--such a story as
+Sardou or Octave Feulliet would revel in; and, without hesitation, she
+has thrown aside all reserve, in the light of the great duty which
+is before her, the duty of doing everything in her power to hunt the
+murderer down, and avenge her husband's death. It is not many who would
+have the moral courage thus to expose their wounds to public gaze, and
+we are satisfied that our narrative will have the effect of causing a
+wide and general sympathy to be expressed for this most unfortunate
+lady.
+
+We now come to other considerations of the affair. The gentleman who was
+murdered was a gentleman of wealth and position in society. He loved his
+wife; between them there had never been the slightest difference; they
+were in complete accord in their views of the conduct of the unhappy
+young man at whose door, indirectly, the primary guilt of the tragedy
+may be laid. The reason why Mr. Holdfast did not write to his wife for
+so long a period is partly explained by the account he gives, in his
+last letter to her, of the injury he received in his right hand. We
+say partly, because, a little further on, our readers will perceive
+that this reason will not hold good up to the day of his death. Most
+positively it may be accepted that the deepest and strongest motives
+existed for his endeavour to keep the circumstance of his being
+in London from the knowledge of his wife. Could these motives be
+discovered--could any light be thrown upon them--a distinct point would
+be established from which the murderer might be tracked. Our Reporter
+put several questions to Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"Is it an absolute certainty that Frederick Holdfast is dead?" he asked.
+
+She gazed at him in wonderment. "Who can doubt it?" she exclaimed.
+"There is my husband's letter, saying he had traced his son to
+Minnesota, and was journeying after him. There is the account in the
+newspaper of the death of the misguided young man in a small town in
+Minnesota. The editor of the newspaper, knowing nothing whatever of
+any of us, could scarcely have invented such a paragraph--though we
+know they _do_ put strange things in the American papers; but this,
+unhappily, is too near the truth."
+
+"Certainly," said our Reporter, "the presumption would be a wild
+one--but it is possible; and I seldom shut my mind to a possibility."
+
+Mrs. Holdfast was very agitated. "It is _not_ possible--it is _not_
+possible!" she cried, repeating the asseveration with vehemence. "It
+would be too horrible to contemplate!"
+
+"What would be too horrible to contemplate?"
+
+"That he followed his father to London"----
+
+She paused, overcome by emotion. Our Reporter took up the cue. "And
+murdered him?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," answered the lovely widow, in a low tone, "and murdered him! I
+would not believe it--no, I would not believe it! Bad and wicked as he
+is, he _could_ not be guilty of a crime so horrible. And, after all, it
+was partly my fault. Why did I not grow up into the likeness of an ugly
+old witch----?"
+
+She paused again, and smiled. There is in this lovely lady so much
+animation and vitality, so much pure love of life, so much sunlight,
+that they overcome her against her will, and break out in the midst
+of the gloomiest fits of melancholy and depression. Hers is a happy,
+joyous, and impulsive nature, and the blow that has fallen upon her
+is all the more cruel because of her innate brightness and gaiety of
+disposition. But it is merciful, also, that she is thus gifted. She
+might not otherwise have sufficient strength to bear up against her
+affliction.
+
+"We will, then," said our Reporter, "dismiss the possibility--which I
+confess is scarcely to be indulged in even by such a man as myself. As
+to your being beautiful, a rose might as reasonably complain that nature
+had invested it with grace of form and loveliness of colour." Mrs.
+Holdfast blushed at this compliment. "You are right in saying that
+such an idea as Frederick Holdfast being alive is too horrible to
+contemplate. The American newspaper says that his body was identified by
+a gentleman who knew him in Oxford, and who happened to be travelling
+through the State of Minnesota. It is a strange coincidence--nothing
+more--that on the precise day on which Frederick Holdfast ended his
+career, a friend should have been travelling in that distant State, and
+should have given a name to the dead stranger who was found near the
+laughing waters of Minnie-ha-ha."
+
+Mrs. Holdfast replied with a sweet smile. "Yes, it is a strange
+coincidence; but young gentlemen now-a-days have numbers of
+acquaintances, hundreds I should say. And everybody travels now--people
+think nothing of going to America or Canada. It is just packing up their
+Gladstone bag, and off they go, as happy as you please. _I_ couldn't do
+it. I _hate_ the sea; I hate everything that makes me uncomfortable. I
+love pleasure. Strange, isn't it, for me, a country girl, to be so fond
+of life and gaiety, and dancing and theatres? But we can't help our
+natures, can we? I would if I could, for you must think me a dreadful,
+dreadful creature for talking in this way just after my husband has been
+brutally killed! Don't think ill of me--don't! It is not my fault, and I
+am suffering dreadfully, dreadfully, though I _do_ let my light heart
+run away with me!"
+
+"How can I think ill of you?" said our Reporter; "you are child and
+woman in one."
+
+"Really!" she cried, looking up into his face with a beaming smile. "Are
+you really, really in earnest?"
+
+"You may believe me," replied our Reporter, "for my errand here is not a
+personal one, but in pursuance of my professional duties; and although
+you charm me out of myself, I must be faithful."
+
+"Ah," said Mrs. Holdfast, "that is the way of you men. So stern, and
+strict, and proper, that you never forget yourself. It is because you
+are strong, and wise--but you miss a great deal--yes, indeed, indeed you
+do! It would spoil the sunshine if one stopped while one was enjoying
+the light and warmth, to ask why, and what, and wherefore. Don't you
+think it would? Such a volatile, impressionable creature as Lydia
+Holdfast does not stop to do such a wise and foolish thing--we can be
+both wise and foolish in a breath, let me tell you. No; I enjoy, and am
+happy, without wanting to know why. There! I am showing myself to you,
+as if you were my oldest friend. _You_ would not do the same by me. You
+are steadier, and wiser, and not half so happy--no, not half, not half
+so happy! O, I wish I had been born a man!"
+
+Amused, and, as he had declared to her, charmed out of himself, our
+Reporter said, somewhat jocosely,
+
+"Why, what would you have done if you had been born a man instead of a
+woman?"
+
+"I am afraid," she said, in a half-whisper, and with her finger on her
+lips, as though enjoining him not to betray her, "I am afraid I should
+have been a dreadful rake."
+
+Our Reporter resisted the beguilement of the current into which the
+conversation had drifted, although he would have been entitled to much
+excuse had he dallied a little in this vein with the charming and
+child-like woman.
+
+"You forget your child," he said; "had you been born a man----"
+
+Before he could complete the sentence, Mrs. Holdfast rushed out of the
+room, and in a few moments returned with the child in her arms. She sat
+in a rocking chair, and fondled the boy-baby, and kissed him, and sang
+to him. It was a picture of perfect and beautiful motherhood.
+
+"Forget my child!" she murmured. "Forget my baby! You must either be
+mad or insincere to say such a thing. Ask the darling's forgiveness
+immediately."
+
+"I do," said our Reporter, kissing the baby, "and yours. You have proved
+yourself a true woman. But my time is getting short, and I have already
+trespassed too long upon yours. Let us continue the conversation about
+Mr. Holdfast."
+
+She instantly became serious, and with the baby in her arms, said, "Yes!
+Well!"
+
+"The landlady of the house," continued our Reporter, "in which he lodged
+has declared that he had but one visitor--a lady, closely veiled."
+
+"So I have read in the papers," said Mrs. Holdfast. "Is nothing known
+about her--where she came from, where she went to, whether she was a
+lady or a common woman?"
+
+"Nothing is known," he replied.
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite sure, as far as my information goes. One person says that she was
+tall, another that she was short; another that she was fair, another
+that she was dark--though they all agree that she never raised her veil.
+There is absolutely not a dependable clue upon which a person can work;
+nothing reliable can be gathered from statements so conflicting. What I
+wish to know is, whether you yourself have any suspicion?"
+
+She flushed with indignation. "You do not mean to ask me whether Mr.
+Holdfast was enamoured of a woman with whom he made secret assignations?
+You insult me. I thought better of you; I did not believe you capable of
+harbouring such a suspicion against the dead?"
+
+"You mistake me," said our Reporter; "no such suspicion was in my mind.
+My thoughts were travelling in a different direction, and I was curious
+to ascertain whether what has occurred to my mind has occurred to
+yours."
+
+"About this woman?" asked Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"Yes, about this woman."
+
+"I did not wish to speak of it," said Mrs. Holdfast, after a pause, and
+speaking with evident reluctance; "it is the one thing in this dreadful
+affair I desired to keep to myself. I had a motive--yes; I did not want
+to do anyone an injustice. But, what can a weak woman like myself do
+when she is in the company of such a man as you? Nothing escapes you. It
+seems to me as if you had studied every little incident in connection
+with the murder of my poor husband for the purpose of bringing some one
+in guilty; but you are better acquainted than I am with the wickedness
+of people. You want to know what reason my husband had in taking a
+common lodging in Great Porter Square instead of coming home at once to
+me and his child. In my weak way I have thought it out. Shall I tell you
+how I have worked it out in my mind?"
+
+"If you please."
+
+"Above everything else in the world," said Mrs. Holdfast, looking
+tenderly at her baby lying in her lap, "even above his love for me, Mr.
+Holdfast valued the honour of his name. There is nothing he would not
+have sacrificed to preserve that unsullied. Well, then, after his son's
+death he discovered something--who can say what?--which touched his
+honour, and which needed skilful management to avoid public disgrace.
+I can think of nothing else than that the woman, who was connected in
+a disgraceful way with his son, had some sort of power over my poor
+husband, and that he wished to purchase her silence before he presented
+himself to me and our baby. He came home, and took the lodgings in Great
+Porter Square. There this woman visited him, and there he met his death.
+That is all I can think of. If I try to get any further, my mind gets
+into a whirl. Now you know all; I have concealed nothing from you. It is
+my firm belief that when you discover this woman everything else will be
+discovered. But you will never discover her--never, never! And my poor
+husband's death will never be avenged."
+
+"I will ask you but one more question," said our Reporter. "In what way
+do you account for the circumstance of your husband not writing to you
+after his return to London?"
+
+"Do you forget," asked Mrs. Holdfast, in return, "that he had injured
+his hand, and that he did not wish to disclose his private affairs to a
+stranger?"
+
+Here the interview terminated; and here, with the exception of the
+statement of three facts, our narrative ends.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast is mistaken in her belief that her husband did not write
+to her because he had injured his hand, and was unwilling to employ an
+amanuensis. Our Reporter, after he left Mrs. Holdfast, had an interview
+with the former landlady of 119 Great Porter Square, who has left the
+house, and would under no consideration return to it. The landlady
+states that, on three occasions, she entered Mr. Holdfast's room when
+he was in it, and that on every occasion he was writing, and apparently
+writing freely. It did not appear to her that his hand was injured in
+the slightest degree. There was no bandage or plaister upon it, and he
+did not complain. We are in a position also to declare that, at the
+_post-mortem_ examination, no recent injury of the right hand was
+perceptible.
+
+The whole of Mr. Holdfast's property has been left by him, in a properly
+attested will, to his widow. When he made this will his son Frederick
+was alive. Not a shilling, however, is left to the son.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast has offered a reward of five hundred pounds for the
+discovery of the murderer of her husband.
+
+We have no doubt our readers will appreciate our enterprise in
+presenting them with this circumstantial account of the latest phase of
+the Great Porter Square Mystery.
+
+The question that now remains to be answered is--Where is Mr. Holdfast's
+son?
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+RICHARD MANX MAKES LOVE TO "SWEET BECKY."
+
+
+On the morning following the publication of the Supplement to the
+_Evening Moon_, Becky had occasion to observe that her mistress, Mrs.
+Preedy, was earnestly engaged in the perusal of a newspaper. A great
+deal of house-work had to be done on this morning; there was a general
+"cleaning-up;" floors and stairs to be scrubbed, chairs and tables to
+be polished, and looking-glasses and windows to be cleaned; and as the
+greater portion of this work fell to Becky's share, she was kept busily
+employed until the afternoon. She was, therefore, in ignorance of the
+publication of the statement in the _Evening Moon_, and her curiosity
+was but languidly aroused by Mrs. Preedy's pre-occupation, until, by
+mere chance, she caught sight of the heading, "The Murder in Great
+Porter Square." She turned hot and cold, and her pulses quickened.
+
+"Is that something fresh about the murder next door?" she ventured to
+ask.
+
+"Yes, Becky," replied Mrs. Preedy, but did not offer any explanation of
+the contents.
+
+It was not Becky's cue to exhibit more than ordinary interest in the
+matter, and she merely remarked,
+
+"I thought it might be something about the houses being haunted."
+
+She noted that the paper was the _Evening Moon_, and she determined to
+purchase a copy before she went to bed. She did not until the afternoon
+get an opportunity to leave the house, and even then, there was so
+much to do, she had to leave it secretly, and without Mrs. Preedy's
+knowledge. There was another reason for her desire to go out. She
+expected a letter at the Charing Cross Post Office, and it was necessary
+she should be there before five o'clock to receive it. Mrs. Preedy
+generally took a half-hour's nap in the afternoon, and Becky's plan was
+to slip out the moment her mistress fell asleep, and leave the house to
+take care of itself. She felt the want of an ally at this juncture; the
+impression that she was fated to unravel the mystery of the murder, and
+thus clear the man she loved from suspicion, was becoming stronger; and
+to accomplish this it was necessary that she should keep her present
+situation. She needed help, and she could not take any person into her
+confidence.
+
+During the day Becky noticed that a great many persons passed through
+the Square, and stopped before the house. "Now that the houses are
+haunted," she thought, "we shall be regularly besieged. But if they look
+for a year they'll not see a ghost."
+
+At four o'clock in the afternoon Mrs. Preedy arranged herself
+comfortably in an arm chair in her kitchen, and in a few moments was
+asleep. Now was Becky's opportunity. She quietly slipped out of the
+house by way of the basement, tying her hat strings as she mounted the
+steps, and walked quickly in the direction of Charing Cross. She was so
+intent upon her mission that she scarcely noticed the unusual number of
+persons in the Square. At Charing Cross Post Office she received the
+letter she expected. She did not stop to read it; she simply opened it
+as she retraced her steps, and, glancing hurriedly through it, put it
+into her pocket. She heard the boys calling out "_Hevenin' Moon_! More
+about the murder in Great Porter Square! Wonderful discovery! Romance in
+real life! A 'Underd Thousand Pounds!" and she stopped and purchased two
+copies. Although she was animated by the liveliest curiosity, she did
+not pause even to open the paper, she was so anxious to get back to the
+house before Mrs. Preedy awoke. Shortly before turning into the Square,
+she was overtaken, fast as she herself was walking, by their young man
+lodger, Richard Manx. He touched her arm, and smiling pleasantly at her,
+walked by her side.
+
+"My pretty one," he said, "your little feet walk fast."
+
+"I am in a hurry," she replied, her nostrils dilating at his touch;
+but instantly remembering the part she was playing, she returned his
+pleasant smile.
+
+"You have been--a--out while the amiable Mrs. Preedy sleeps."
+
+This observation warned her that Richard Manx knew more about the
+household movements than she expected. "I have no fool to deal with,"
+she thought. "He shall have as much of my confidence as I choose to give
+him; he will find me his match."
+
+"Yes," she said aloud, with a bright look; "but don't tell Mrs. Preedy;
+she might be angry with me."
+
+"You speak," he said in a tone of lofty satisfaction, "to a gentleman."
+
+"I wanted to buy a ribbon," said Becky, artlessly, "and it isn't easy to
+choose the exact colour one would like at night, so I thought I would
+steal out, just as I am, while Mrs. Preedy took her nap."
+
+"Steal out--ah, yes, I understand--just as you are, charming!"
+
+"And now, although I couldn't match my ribbon--it was a very light pink
+I wanted--I must get back quickly."
+
+All the while they were talking he was sucking and chewing a sweetmeat;
+having disposed of it, he popped another into his mouth.
+
+"Quickly," he repeated, bending down, so that his face was on a level
+with hers. "That is--a--soon. Will you?"
+
+This question was accompanied by the offer of a little packet of acid
+drops, half of which he had already devoured. She took a couple with the
+remark that she liked chocolate creams best.
+
+"You shall have some," he said, "to-morrow. I shall walk with you; I
+myself am on my way to my small apartment. It is the--a--fashion for a
+gentleman to offer a lady one of his arms. Honour me."
+
+He held out his arm, which she declined.
+
+"I am not a lady," she said demurely; "I am only a poor servant girl."
+
+"And I," he responded insinuatingly, "am a poor gentleman. Ah! If
+I were--a--rich, I should say to you, accept this ring." He made a
+motion as if offering her a ring. "Accept this--a--bracelet," with
+corresponding action. "Or this dress. But I have not--a--money." He took
+another acid drop. "It is a misfortune. But what can a poor devil do?
+You do not--a--despise me because I am thus?"
+
+"Oh, no. I hope you will be rich one day."
+
+"It will happen," he said, in a quick, eager tone. "From my country"--he
+waved his hands vaguely--"shall come what I wait for here. Then shall I
+say to you, 'Becky'--pardon; I have heard the amiable Mrs. Preedy thus
+call you--'Becky,' shall I say, 'be no longer a servant. Be a lady.' How
+then, will you speak?"
+
+"I must not listen to you," replied Becky, coquettishly; "you foreign
+gentlemen have such smooth tongues that they are enough to turn a poor
+girl's head." They were now in Great Porter Square. "What a number of
+people there are in the square," she said.
+
+"It is--a--remarkable, this murder. The man is--a--found."
+
+"What man?" cried Becky, excitedly. "The murderer!"
+
+"Ah, no. That is not yet. It is the dead man who is--what do you call
+it?--discovered. That is it. He _was_ not known--he _is_ known. His name
+has come to the light. Yesterday he was a beggar--to-day he is rich.
+What, then? He is dead. His millions--in my country's money, sweet
+Becky, veritably millions--shall not bring life into his bones. His
+money is--a--here. _He_ is"--Richard Manx looked up at the sky--"Ah, he
+is there! or"--he cast his eyes to the pavement--"there! We shall not
+know till there comes a time. It is sad."
+
+"He was a rich gentleman, you say. What could have induced a rich man
+to live in such a neighbourhood?"
+
+"In such a neighbourhood!" Richard Manx smiled, and shrugged his
+shoulders. "Ah! he came here not to die, surely--no, to live. It would
+have been well--for him--that he came not; but so it was. What should
+induce him here? you ask of me. Becky, I shall ask of the air." He put
+himself into the attitude of listening. "Ha! ha! I hear perhaps the
+reason. There was a lady. Enough. We shall not betray more. I propose to
+you a thought. I live in the amiable house of Mrs. Preedy. It is high,
+my apartment. Wherefore? I am a poor gentleman--as yet. I am one morning
+discovered--dead. Startle not yourself. It will not be--no, it will not
+be; but I propose to you my thought. You would not be glad--you would
+not laugh, if so it should be?"
+
+"It would be a shocking thing," said Becky, gravely.
+
+"It is well. I thank you--your face is sad, your eyes are not so bright.
+Then when I am thus, as I have said--dead!--from my country comes what
+I wait for here--money, also in millions. 'Ah,' says the amiable Mrs.
+Preedy, 'what could induce'--your word is good--'what could induce one
+who was rich to live in such a neighbourhood?' Observe me, Becky. I
+place my hand, on my heart and say, 'There is a lady.' Ah, yes, though
+you call yourself not so, I say, 'There is a lady.' I say no more. We
+are at home. You are beautiful, and I--till for ever--am your devoted.
+If it were not for so many people--I am discreet, Becky--I should kiss
+your hand."
+
+And, indeed, the remark that he was discreet was proved by the change in
+his manner, now that he and Becky were in closer contact with strangers;
+the tenderness left his face, and observers at a distance would never
+have guessed that he was making something very much like a declaration
+of love to the girl. He opened the street door with his latch-key, and
+went up to his garret, sucking his acid drops. Becky opened the little
+gate and went down to her kitchen, where her mind was set at ease by
+seeing Mrs. Preedy still asleep in her arm chair.
+
+Becky looked at her hand. It was a pretty hand and small, but the work
+she had done lately rather detracted from its prettiness. There was
+dirt on it, too, from the scrubbing and cleaning of the day. "He would
+kiss my hand," she murmured. "I am afraid our innocent young man lodger
+is a bit of a flirt. Be careful, young man. You are not in this house
+without a motive; you are in danger if that motive touches the welfare
+of the man I love!"
+
+This soliloquy, in which she indulged in the kitchen, might have been
+of greater length had not Mrs. Preedy stirred in her sleep. The slight
+movement was sufficient to wake her.
+
+"I do believe, Becky," she said, opening her eyes, "that I have
+overslept myself."
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+IN WHICH BECKY GIVES WAY TO HER FEELINGS, AND RENEWS AN OLD
+ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+Great Porter Square had really been in a state of excitement the
+whole of the day, almost equalling that which raged on the day of the
+discovery of the murder. The strange revelation made in the columns of
+the _Evening Moon_--whose account of the identification of the body of
+the murdered man was presented in a form so attractive that edition
+after edition was sold with amazing rapidity--invested the murder with
+features romantic enough to engross general attention. There was love in
+it, there was a beautiful and fascinating woman in it, there was a baby
+in it, there were a hundred thousand pounds in it. The newsboys drove
+a rare trade; it brought so much grist to their mill that, as they
+jingled the copper and silver in their pockets, they sighed for another
+murder as good to-morrow.
+
+The public-houses, also, throve wonderfully; their bars were crowded,
+and the publicans rubbed their hands in glee. People from all parts of
+London came to Great Porter Square to look at the deserted house. They
+stared at the bricks, they stared at the street door, they stared at the
+window. With a feeling of enjoyable awe, they peeped over and through
+the iron railings which surrounded the basement. The downlook was not
+inviting. The ironwork was covered with rust; the paint was peeling off
+the doors and shutters; watchful spiders, ever ready for fresh murder,
+lurked in the corners of their webs. There was nothing to be frightened
+at in these natural signs of neglect and decay; but when a man cried
+out, "There! there!" and pointed downwards, the people rushed from the
+pavement into the road. They soon returned, and craned their heads and
+necks to gaze upon the melancholy walls. Occasionally a man or a woman
+ascended the three stone steps which led to the street door, and touched
+the woodwork with open hand, as if the contact brought them closer to
+the tragedy which had been enacted within.
+
+As night approached, the number of persons who made a point of passing
+through the Square decreased; but up till ten o'clock there were always
+about a dozen sightmongers lingering in the roadway before No. 119, and,
+among these dozen, generally one who appeared to be acquainted with
+the construction and disposition of the rooms, and who described the
+particulars of the murder with gloating satisfaction. The police did not
+interfere with them, the entertainment being one which a free people was
+privileged to enjoy.
+
+During the whole of the evening Becky had not found time to read her
+letter or the newspaper. "They'll burn a hole in my pocket, I am sure,"
+she thought, "if I keep them there much longer." But when the clock
+struck ten a period was put to her state of suspense.
+
+"I've been in the 'ouse all day, Becky," said Mrs. Preedy; "and what
+with the state of my feelings and the excitement in the Square, I'm
+quite worn out. I shall run round to Mrs. Beale's for arf-an-hour; take
+care of the place while I'm gone."
+
+Becky nodded, and the moment she heard the street-door close, she sat
+down at the table, and pulled from her pocket the letter and the copies
+of the _Evening Moon_. She read the letter first, kissing it as she drew
+it from the envelope. It ran as follows:--
+
+  "MY DARLING GIRL,--Your letter has surprised and startled me, and I
+  do not know whether to be alarmed or pleased at the strange news it
+  contains. That you have placed yourself in a perilous position for
+  my sake would make it all the harder for me to bear should anything
+  happen to you. You would do anything, I know, rather than cause me
+  sorrow or add to my anxieties, and I am satisfied that the strange
+  fancy you have carried into execution sprang from a heart full of
+  love. I have reason to know how firm you can be in any task you
+  undertake, and I am not hopeful that I shall succeed in turning you
+  from your purpose. If, until I return to London, you still continue
+  in service, I implore you to be careful, to run no risk, and never
+  to forget that the whole happiness of my life is in your hands.
+  For if the mission upon which I am at present engaged should fail
+  (although filial love and duty will not allow me to relinquish it
+  until I see no possibility of bringing it to a successful issue),
+  the opportunity of our living happily together in another part of
+  the world will always be open to us. But first to perform a son's
+  duty, then to offer you a husband's love and care. All that a
+  man _can_ do shall be done to hasten the day on which I shall be
+  privileged to call you wife.
+
+  "You have placed such trust and confidence in me, you have so firmly
+  relied upon my truth and honour, that I often reproach myself for
+  having kept from you some of the most important incidents in my
+  life. But I was pledged to secresy. I had given my solemn word
+  never to speak of certain matters without the sanction of my father.
+  Thus much you know, and you know, also, that I am now in search
+  of that father for whose mysterious disappearance I am unable to
+  account. When I find him he will release me from a vow I made to him
+  under the most painful and distressing circumstances; then I can
+  offer you the name which is my own, and which I renounced; then I
+  can unfold to you the sad and painful story of my life; then I can
+  hold up my head with honour once more, and take my place among
+  men--the place I lost.
+
+  "You say that you have something to communicate to me which bears
+  upon the murder in Great Porter Square. It is, of course, of the
+  greatest importance to me that I should be cleared of the suspicion
+  which must still attach to me; the police have sharp eyes, and
+  although I gave a false name--as true however, as the charge brought
+  against me--it is quite possible that some person who was in the
+  Police Court might recognise me, and cause me fresh trouble.
+  Therefore I shall scarcely ever feel myself safe in the London
+  streets until the murderer is discovered and punished. But above
+  even this in importance I place the strange disappearance of my
+  father. To find him is my first and paramount desire.
+
+  "The picture you have drawn of Mrs. Bailey, the bedridden old
+  lodger, and her deaf and nearly blind old sister, with the languid
+  linnet, and the moping bullfinch, is most amusing. I shall not be at
+  all surprised if, in your next letter, you inform me that the old
+  lady's mattress is stuffed with bank notes.
+
+  "How highly I value your true womanly attempts to cheer and comfort
+  me! To read your letters is almost to hear you speak, you write so
+  feelingly and earnestly. My fullest love is yours, and yours only.
+  What a loving grateful heart, what willing hands can do, to make you
+  happy when the clouds have cleared, shall be done by me. Rely upon
+  me; have faith in me; and believe me to be,
+
+  "Your faithful lover,
+  "FRED."
+
+Becky read the letter slowly, with smiles and tears; then kissed it
+repeatedly, and placed it in the bosom of her dress.
+
+Before turning her attention to the newspaper she had bought in the
+afternoon, she ran upstairs to Mrs. Bailey. The old woman was awake,
+staring at her birds. She asked Becky to rub her side with the liniment,
+and the girl--to whose heart Fred's affectionate letter had imparted
+fresh happiness--did so in a blithe and cheerful manner.
+
+"You're better than a doctor, Becky," said the old woman, "a thousand
+times better. I was as young and merry as you once--I was indeed.
+Pretty--too--eh, Becky?"
+
+"That's to be seen," said Becky, rubbing away. "You have the remains
+now."
+
+"Have I, Becky, have I--eh?"
+
+"Indeed you have--you're a good-looking old lady."
+
+A gleam of vanity and delight lit up the old creature's eyes for a
+moment.
+
+"Am I, Becky--eh? You're a good girl--listen; I shall leave you
+something in my will. I'm going to make one--by and bye, but I don't
+want any lawyers. You shall do it for me. I can trust you, eh, Becky?"
+
+"Indeed you can," replied Becky, tucking the old woman in; "you feel
+more comfortable now, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, your soft hands rub the pain away. But it comes again, Becky, it
+comes again."
+
+"So will I, to rub it away again. I must go down now, I have so much to
+do." She patted the old woman's shoulder, and reached the door, when she
+stopped and asked, in a careless tone,
+
+"Have you heard any more mice to-night scratching at the wall in the
+next house, Mrs. Bailey."
+
+"Not a sound, Becky. It's been as quiet as a churchyard."
+
+As she left the room, Becky heard the old woman mumbling to herself,
+with the vanity of a child,
+
+"I was pretty once, and I've got the remains now. I'm a good-looking
+old lady--a good-looking old lady--a good-looking old lady! Becky's a
+clever girl--I won't forget her."
+
+As Becky descended to the kitchen, she heard a newsboy calling out a new
+edition of the _Evening Moon_. Becky went to the street door and asked
+the boy if there was anything fresh in the paper about the murder.
+
+"A lot," replied the boy; "I've only two copies left, and I thought I
+could sell 'em in the Square."
+
+Becky bought the two copies, and the boy, whose only motive for coming
+into the Square was to look at No. 119, refreshed himself by running up
+and down the steps, and then, retreating to the garden railings, almost
+stared his eyes out in the endeavour to see the ghost that haunted the
+deserted house.
+
+Once more in the kitchen, Becky sat down, and with a methodical air,
+opened last evening's paper, and read the "Romance in Real Life" which
+had caused so much excitement. The writer of the narrative would have
+been gratified had he witnessed the interest Becky took in his clever
+manipulation of his facts. The most thrilling romance could not have
+fascinated her as much as this story of to-day, formed as it was out of
+what may be designated ordinary newspaper material. Not once did she
+pause, but proceeded steadily on, column after column, every detail
+being indelibly fixed upon her mind. Only when she came to the
+concluding words did she raise her head, and become once more conscious
+of her surroundings.
+
+She drew a long breath, and looked before her into the air, as though
+endeavouring to obtain from invisible space some connecting links
+between the new ideas formed by this romance in real life. The dominant
+thought in her mind as she read the narrative was whether she would be
+able to obtain from it any clue to connect Richard Manx with the murder.
+Her desire lay in this direction, without reference to its justice or
+injustice, and she would have felt better satisfied had such a clue
+been supplied. But she was compelled to confess that, as far as her
+knowledge of him went in their brief personal intercourse, he was not in
+the remotest way connected with the crime. Say that this _was_ so--say
+that he was as little implicated in it as she herself, what, then, was
+his motive in making his way secretly into the room in which the murder
+had been committed? Of the fact that he had done so, without having been
+an eye-witness of it, Becky was morally convinced. What was his motive
+for this proceeding?
+
+But Richard Manx did not entirely monopolise her thoughts. With the
+threads of the story, as presented in the Supplement of the _Evening
+Moon_, she wove possibilities which occasioned her great distress, for
+in these possibilities she saw terrible trouble in the future. If there
+was a grain of truth in them, she could not see how this trouble was to
+be avoided.
+
+Of the name of the murdered man, Mr. Holdfast, she was utterly ignorant.
+She had never heard of him, nor of Lydia Holdfast, his second wife,
+who, living now, and mourning for the dead, had supplied the facts of
+the case to the Special Reporter of the _Evening Moon_.
+
+"Had I been in her place," thought Becky, "I should, for very shame's
+sake, if not out of consideration for the dead, have been less free with
+my tongue. I would have run every risk rather than have allowed myself
+to be the talking-stock of the whole country. Lydia Holdfast must be a
+poor, weak creature. Can I do nothing, nothing?"
+
+Becky's lips quivered, and had she not been sustained by a high purpose,
+she might have sought relief in tears.
+
+"Let me set down my thoughts in plain words," she said aloud. "I shall
+then be able to judge more clearly."
+
+She produced pen, ink, and paper, and wrote the names:
+
+"Mr. Holdfast.
+
+"Lydia Holdfast.
+
+"Frederick Holdfast."
+
+She gazed at the names and said,
+
+"My lover's name is Frederick."
+
+It was as though the paper upon which she was writing represented a
+human being, and spoke the words she wrote.
+
+She underlined the name "_Frederick_," saying, as she did so, "For
+reasons which I shall one day learn, he has concealed his surname."
+
+The next words she wrote were: "Frederick Holdfast was educated in
+Oxford."
+
+To which she replied, "_My_ Frederick was educated in Oxford."
+
+Then she wrote: "Between Frederick Holdfast and his father there was a
+difference so serious that they quarrelled, and Frederick Holdfast left
+his father's house."
+
+"My Frederick told me," said Becky aloud, "that he and his father were
+separated because of a family difference. He could tell me no more, he
+said, because of a vow he had made to his father. He has repeated this
+in the letter I received from him this evening."
+
+Becky took the letter from her dress, kissed it, and replaced it in her
+bosom. "I do not need this," she said, "to assure me of his worth and
+truth."
+
+She proceeded with her task and wrote: "Frederick Holdfast went to
+America. His father also went to America."
+
+And answered it with, "_My_ Frederick went to America, and his father
+followed him."
+
+Upon the paper then she wrote: "Mr. Holdfast and his son Frederick both
+returned to England."
+
+"As my Frederick and his father did," she said.
+
+And now Becky's fingers trembled. She was approaching the tragedy. She
+traced the words, however, "From the day of his return to England until
+yesterday nothing was heard of Mr. Holdfast; and there is no accounting
+for his disappearance."
+
+"Frederick's father also has disappeared," she said, "and there is no
+accounting for _his_ disappearance."
+
+These coincidences were so remarkable that they increased in strength
+tenfold as Becky gazed upon the words she had written. And now she
+calmly said,
+
+"If they are true, my Frederick is Frederick Holdfast. If they are true,
+Frederick Holdfast is a villain." Her face flushed, her bosom rose and
+fell. "A lie!" she cried. "My lover is the soul of honour and manliness!
+He is either not Frederick Holdfast, or the story told in the newspaper
+is a wicked, shameful fabrication. What kind of woman, then, is this
+Lydia Holdfast, who sheds tears one moment and laughs the next?--who
+one moment wrings her hands at the murder of her husband, and the next
+declares that if she had been born a man she might have been a dreadful
+rake? But Frederick Holdfast is dead; the American newspapers published
+the circumstances of his death and the identification of his body.
+Thousands of persons read that account, and believed in its truth, as
+thousands of persons read and are reading this romance of real life, and
+believe in its truth." Contempt and defiance were expressed in Becky's
+voice as she touched the copy of the newspaper which had so profoundly
+agitated her. "Yet both may be false, and if they are false----"
+She paused for a few moments, and then continued: "Lydia Holdfast is
+Frederick Holdfast's enemy. She believes him to be dead; there is no
+doubt of that. But if he is alive, and in England, he is in peril--in
+deadlier peril than my Frederick was, when, as Antony Cowlrick, he was
+charged with the murder of an unknown man, and that man--as now is
+proved--his own father. What did I call Lydia Holdfast just now? a poor
+weak creature! Not she! An artful, designing, cruel woman, whose safety,
+perhaps, lies in my Frederick's death. If, without the suspicions which
+torture me, so near to the truth do they seem, it was necessary to
+discover the murderer of the poor gentleman who met his death in the
+next house, how much more imperative is it now that the mystery should
+be unravelled! Assist me, Eternal God, to bring the truth to light, and
+to punish the guilty!"
+
+She fell upon her knees, and with tears streaming down her face, prayed
+for help from above to clear the man she loved from the shameful charges
+brought against him by his father's wife. Her prayers comforted her, and
+she rose in a calmer state of mind. "I must look upon this creature,"
+she thought, "upon this woman in name, who has invented the disgraceful
+story. To match her cunning a woman's cunning is needed. Lydia Holdfast,
+I declare myself your enemy!"
+
+A noise in the street attracted Becky's attention, and diverted her
+thoughts. She hurried from her kitchen, and opened the street door.
+Twenty or thirty persons were crowding round one, who was lying
+insensible upon the pavement. They cried, "Give her air!" and pressed
+more closely upon the helpless form.
+
+"A glass of water!" "Poor child!" "Go and fetch a little brandy!" "Fetch
+a policeman!" "She's shamming!" "Starving, more likely!" "Starving?
+she's got three boxes of matches in her hands!" "Well, you brute, she
+can't eat matches!"
+
+These and other cries greeted Becky as she opened the door, and looked
+out into the Square.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked, striving to push her way into the crowd,
+which did not willingly yield to her.
+
+It was a poor child, her clothes in rags, who had fainted on the
+flagstones before the house.
+
+"She's coming to!" exclaimed a woman.
+
+The child opened her eyes.
+
+"What are you doing here?" asked a man, roughly.
+
+"I came to see the ghost!" replied the child, in a weak, pleading little
+voice.
+
+The people laughed; they did not see the pathetic side of the picture.
+
+But the child's voice, faint as it was, reached Becky's heart. It was a
+voice familiar to her. She pushed through the crowd vigorously, and bent
+over the child.
+
+"Blanche!" screamed the child, bursting into hysterical sobs. "O,
+Blanche! Blanche!"
+
+It was Fanny, the little match girl.
+
+"Hush, Fanny!" whispered Becky. "Hush my dear!"
+
+She raised the poor child in her arms, and a shudder of pain and
+compassion escaped her as she felt how light the little body was.
+Fanny's face was covered with tears, and through her tears she laughed,
+and clung to Becky.
+
+"I know her," said Becky to the people, "I will take care of her."
+
+And kissing the thin, dirty face of the laughing, sobbing, clinging
+child, Becky carried her into the house, and closed the street-door upon
+the crowd.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" exclaimed the man who had distinguished himself by
+his rough words. "If this 'ere ain't the rummiest Square in London!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+"JUSTICE" SENDS A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE "EVENING MOON."
+
+
+Closer and closer did the little match girl cling to Becky, as she was
+carried through the dark passage and down the narrow stairs to the
+kitchen. Then, and then only, did Becky clearly perceive how thin and
+wan her humble little friend had grown. Fanny's dark eyes loomed out of
+their sunken sockets like dusky moons, her cheeks had fallen in, her
+lips were colourless; her clothes consisted of but two garments, a frock
+and a petticoat, in rags. Becky's eyes overflowed as she contemplated
+the piteous picture, and Fanny's eyes also became filled with tears--not
+in pity for herself, but in sympathy with Becky.
+
+"O, Blanche, Blanche," she murmured, "I begun to be afeard I should
+never see you agin."
+
+Becky touched Fanny's clothes and cheek pityingly, and said,
+
+"Has it been like this long, Fanny?"
+
+Fanny replied in a grave tone, "Since ever you went away, Blanche. My
+luck turned then."
+
+"It has turned again, my dear," said Becky, with great compassion, "and
+turned the right way. Make a wish."
+
+"A thick slice of bread and butter!" said Fanny, eagerly.
+
+"O, Fanny, are you hungry?"
+
+"I ain't 'ad nothink to eat to-day excep' a damaged apple I picked up in
+Coving Garden."
+
+Before she finished the sentence Becky placed before her a thick slice
+of bread and butter, and was busy cutting another. Fanny soon dispatched
+them, and did not say "No" to a third slice.
+
+"Do you feel better, Fanny?" asked Becky.
+
+"Ever so much," replied Fanny, looking wistfully around. The kitchen was
+warm, and the little beggar girl was thinking of the cold night outside.
+
+Becky noticed the look and knew what it meant.
+
+"No, Fanny," she thought, "you shall not go out in the cold to-night.
+It is my belief you were sent to help me; it may be a lucky meeting for
+both of us."
+
+"Fanny," she said aloud, "where's your mother?"
+
+"She's got three months," said Fanny, "and the magistrate sed he'd 'ave
+give 'er six if he could."
+
+"Where are you going to sleep to-night?"
+
+"Blanche," said Fanny, with a quiver in her voice, "is there such a
+thing as a coal-cellar 'ere?"
+
+"Why, Fanny?"
+
+"I'd like to sleep in it, if you don't mind."
+
+"I _do_ mind, Fanny. Yon can't sleep in the coal-cellar."
+
+Fanny sighed mournfully, and partly rose. "I can't stop 'ere, then,
+Blanche?"
+
+"You shall if you like, Fanny, and you shall sleep with me."
+
+"O, Blanche!" cried Fanny, clasping her face with her dirty little
+hands. The tears forced themselves between the thin, bony fingers.
+
+"Why, that looks as if you were sorry, Fanny!"
+
+"I'm cryin' for joy, Blanche. I should 'ave taken my 'ook to-night if it
+'adn't been for you. When I fell down in a faint outside your door, I
+thought I was goin' to die."
+
+"You shall not die, Fanny," said Becky; "you shall live, and grow into a
+fine young woman. Listen to me, and don't forget a word I say to you.
+You are sharp and clever, and I want you now to be sharper and cleverer
+than ever you have been in your life before." Fanny nodded, and fixed
+her eyes upon Becky's face. "I am a servant in this house; my mistress's
+name is Mrs. Preedy; she is out gossiping, and I expect her back every
+minute. If she comes in while I am talking, I shall bundle you into bed,
+and you'll fall fast asleep. You understand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am not a real servant, but nobody is to know that but you and me. Put
+your hand in mine, Fanny, and promise to be my friend, as I promise to
+be yours. That's an honest squeeze, Fanny, and I know what it means.
+It means that I can trust you thoroughly, and that you will do and say
+everything exactly as I wish."
+
+"That's just what it _does_ mean, Blanche."
+
+"My name is not Blanche."
+
+"No?"
+
+"No. It's Becky."
+
+"I'm fly."
+
+"And never was anything else. The reason why I am a servant here is
+because I have something very particular to do--and that also is a
+secret between me and you. When it is done, I shall be a lady, and
+perhaps I will take you as my little maid."
+
+"O, Becky! Becky!" exclaimed Fanny, overjoyed at the prospect.
+
+"I knew you were sharp and quick," said Becky. "You are a little cousin
+of mine, if Mrs. Preedy asks you, and you have no mother or father. Give
+me those matches. I throw them into the fire, one after another. What a
+blaze they make! Your mother died last week, and you, knowing I was in
+service here, came to ask me to help you. You never sold matches,
+Fanny."
+
+"Never! I'll take my oath of it!"
+
+"That is all I shall say to-night, Fanny. I am tired, and I want to
+think. Go into that room--it is my bedroom; here is a light. You will
+see a nest of drawers in the room; open the top one, and take out a
+clean nightdress; it will be too long and too large for you, but that
+doesn't matter, does it? Give yourself a good wash, then pop into bed,
+and go to sleep. To-morrow morning, before you are up, I shall buy you
+some clothes. Poor little Fanny! Poor little Fanny!" The child had
+fallen on her knees, and had bowed her face on Becky's lap. Her body
+was shaken with sobs. "Now then, go, or Mrs. Preedy may come back before
+you are a-bed."
+
+Fanny jumped to her feet, and kissing Becky's hands, took the candle,
+and went into Becky's bedroom.
+
+Becky's attention, diverted for a while by this adventure, returned to
+the subject which now almost solely occupied her mind. She had not yet
+looked at the copies of the last _Evening Moon_ she had bought of the
+newsboy in the Square an hour ago. She opened one of the papers, and
+saw, in large type, the heading, "FREDERICK HOLDFAST," and beneath it
+the following letter, addressed to the editor of the _Evening Moon_:--
+
+  "SIR,--I have read the thrilling Romance in Real Life which your
+  Special Reporter, in a style which does not speak highly for his
+  culture or good taste, has so temptingly dished up for your numerous
+  readers. It not only _reads_ like a romance, but, with reference to
+  one of the characters it introduces to a too curious public, it
+  _is_ a romance. The character I refer to is Frederick Holdfast, the
+  son of the ill-fated gentleman who was murdered in Great Porter
+  Square. That he is dead there appears to be no reason to doubt; and,
+  therefore, all the more reason why I, who knew him well and was his
+  friend, should step forward without hesitation to protest against
+  the charges brought against him in your columns. I declare most
+  earnestly that they are false.
+
+  "Here, at once, I find myself in a difficulty. When I say that the
+  colours in which Frederick Holdfast is painted are false colours,
+  that the character given to him is a false character, and that the
+  charges brought against him are false charges, it appears as if I
+  myself were bringing an accusation against Mrs. Lydia Holdfast, a
+  lady with whom I have not the pleasure of being acquainted. I prefer
+  not to do this. I prefer to bring the accusation against your
+  Reporter, who must have allowed his zeal and enthusiasm to play
+  tricks with his judgment when he sat down to describe, in his
+  captivating manner, certain statements made to him by a lady in
+  distress. He was writing a romance--there was a villain in it (a
+  necessity); necessary, therefore, that this villain should be
+  painted in the blackest colours, to rival other villains in the
+  Penny Awfuls which obtain so strong a hold over young people among
+  our poorer classes. The parallel is not a fair one. The villains in
+  the Penny Awfuls are imaginary creatures; they live only in the
+  brains of the cheap novelist; to vilify them, to defame them, can
+  hurt the feelings, can do injury, to no living being. But the
+  villain your Reporter has depicted in his Romance of Real Life is a
+  man who lived, who was honoured, and who had at least one firm and
+  true friend in the person of him who is now tracing these lines. To
+  defame and vilify the dead is an act of the grossest injustice, and
+  of this injustice your Reporter is guilty.
+
+  "I was at Oxford with Frederick Holdfast, and shared in his
+  pleasures and his studies. We were cronies. We had few secrets from
+  each other, and our close intimacy enabled me not only to gain an
+  insight into Frederick's character, but to form a just estimate of
+  it. And I solemnly declare that my dead friend was as guiltless of
+  the charges brought against him by Mrs. Holdfast and your Reporter
+  in his Oxford career as I believe him to be incapable of the
+  baseness imputed to him in his father's house in London. Of the
+  latter I can speak only from presumption. Of the former I can speak
+  with certainty, but my conviction in the one case is as strong as it
+  is in the other.
+
+  "It is a monstrous falsehood to describe Frederick Holdfast's
+  'career of dissipation' as being 'capped by degraded association
+  with degraded women.' His estimate of woman was high and lofty; he
+  was almost quixotic in the opinion he entertained of her purity, and
+  even when he felt himself compelled to condemn, there was invariably
+  apparent in his condemnation a touch of beautiful pity it was
+  an experience to meet with in this shrug-shoulder age, in which
+  cynicism and light words upon noble themes have become the fashion.
+  That he was free from faults I do not assert, but his errors had in
+  them nothing of that low kind of vice which your Reporter has so
+  glibly attached to his name.
+
+  "I have already said I have not the pleasure of an acquaintance with
+  Mrs. Lydia Holdfast; neither was I acquainted with her murdered
+  husband, my dead friend's father. But I have heard Frederick speak
+  of his father, and always with respect and love. I can go further
+  than this. I have read letters which Mr. Holdfast in London wrote
+  to his son in Oxford, and I cannot recall a sentence or a word
+  which would imply that any difference existed between father and
+  son. These facts go far to prove the accusation I bring against
+  your Reporter of libelling the dead. He, in his turn, may find
+  justification for the picture he has drawn in the statements made to
+  him by Mrs. Lydia Holdfast. With this I have nothing to do; I leave
+  them to settle the matter between them. My duty is to vindicate the
+  honour of my friend, who cannot speak for himself. I ask you to
+  insert this letter, without abbreviation, in your columns, and I
+  ask those papers at a distance which have quoted from your Romance
+  in Real Life, to copy the letter, to prevent injustice to a dead
+  man's memory. I enclose my card, as a guarantee of good faith; but I
+  do not wish my name to be published. At the same time, should public
+  occasion demand it, I shall be ready to come forward and personally
+  substantiate the substance of this communication.
+
+  "I am, Sir, yours obediently,
+  "JUSTICE."
+
+To this letter was appended an Editorial Note:
+
+  "We insert our correspondent's letter, as he desires, without
+  abbreviation. His name, which at his request we withhold, is one
+  which is already becoming honourably known, and we see no reason to
+  doubt his honesty of intention, and his thorough belief in what
+  he writes. In the performance of our duties as Editor of this
+  newspaper, we are always ready to present our readers with both
+  sides of a question which has excited public interest. With these
+  differing views fairly and impartially placed before them, they can
+  form their own judgment. Upon the matter between 'Justice,' Mrs.
+  Holdfast, and our Special Reporter, we offer no opinion, but we
+  cannot refrain from drawing attention to one feature in the case
+  which has apparently escaped the notice of 'Justice.' By Mr.
+  Holdfast's will his only son, Frederick, is disinherited, and the
+  whole of the murdered man's property is left to his unhappy widow.
+  This is a sufficient answer to 'Justice's' disbelief in the
+  existence of any difference between Frederick Holdfast and his
+  father. 'Respect and love' would never impel a father to leave his
+  son a beggar.--EDITOR, 'EVENING MOON.'"
+
+Becky's eyes were bright with pleasure as she read the letter. "Bravo,
+Justice," she thought; "you are worthy to be the friend of my Frederick.
+I will thank you one day for your noble defence."
+
+Here Fanny, arrayed in Becky's nightdress, made her appearance from the
+little bedroom.
+
+"Good night, Becky," she said.
+
+"Good night, my dear," said Becky, kissing the child.
+
+Fanny's face was clean, and her hair was nicely brushed; she did not
+look now like a child of the gutter.
+
+"I feel all new, Becky--and so 'appy!" she said, with quivering lips.
+
+"That's right, dear," said Becky; "now tumble into bed. I hear Mrs.
+Preedy opening the street door."
+
+Fanny flew back to the bedroom, and scrambling into bed, fell asleep
+with a prayer in her mind that God would bless Becky for ever, and ever,
+and ever, and send her everything in the world she wanted.
+
+Becky was prepared for her interview with Mrs. Preedy; her plan was
+already formed. She put the newspapers out of sight, and when Mrs.
+Preedy entered the kitchen she found Becky busy with her needle.
+
+"Still up, Becky!" exclaimed Mrs. Preedy. "You ought to 'ave been
+a-bed."
+
+"I didn't like to go," said Becky, "till you came home; I wanted to
+speak to you about something."
+
+"What is it?" cried Mrs. Preedy, for ever ready to take alarm.
+"Nothink's 'appened in the 'ouse, I 'ope. Mrs. Bailey!"----
+
+"Nothing has happened; it's about myself I want to speak."
+
+"I suppose you're going to give notice," said Mrs. Preedy, glaring at
+Becky.
+
+"O, no; I'm satisfied with the place, and I'm sure no servant ever had a
+kinder missis." Mrs. Preedy was mollified. "It's about my legacy and a
+little cousin of mine."
+
+"O," said Mrs. Preedy, feeling no interest in the little cousin, but a
+great deal in the legacy. "You may sit down, Becky."
+
+"Thank you, mum. I am to receive fifty pounds of my legacy to-morrow,
+and I want you to take care of some of it."
+
+"I'll do it with pleasure, Becky." Mrs. Preedy was slightly bewildered
+by the circumstance of having a servant with so much money at command;
+it was an unprecedented experience. Of course she would take care of the
+girl's money.
+
+"While you were out," said Becky, "there was a knock at the door, and
+when I opened it I saw a little cousin of mine who has lost her mother,
+and has no one in the world but me to look after her. She knew I was in
+service here and she came to ask me to help her. I hope you will not
+consider it a liberty, but I took her in, poor little thing, and perhaps
+you'll let her sleep with me to-night."
+
+Mrs. Preedy stared at Becky. "Is she there?" she asked, pointing to the
+servant's bedroom.
+
+"Yes, mum."
+
+Mrs. Preedy took a candle, and went into the room. Fanny was asleep, and
+when Mrs. Preedy laid her hand on her, she moved, and murmured--
+
+"Is that you, Becky?"
+
+Becky called out, "Yes, Fanny. Go to sleep again."
+
+"I thought," said Becky, upon Mrs. Preedy's return, "as my little cousin
+has no home now, and as there is plenty of room in the house, that you
+might let her remain here as a lodger."
+
+"As a lodger!" said Mrs. Preedy, in a tone of surprise and satisfaction.
+
+"Of course," continued Becky, "I couldn't ask you to let her stay here
+for nothing, and as I have plenty of money I can afford to pay for her.
+Then she can help me a bit now and then. She can live in the kitchen,
+and sleep with me. I'll look after her, and nobody need know anything
+about it but ourselves. I wouldn't mind eight or ten shillings a week."
+
+Mrs. Preedy, with more eagerness than she was in the habit of
+exhibiting, agreed to Becky's proposition, and said they would split
+the difference, and make it nine shillings a week for Fanny's board and
+lodging.
+
+"And if you won't mind my mentioning it," said Becky, "if you are
+pressed for a few pounds I should be glad to let you have it till the
+lodgers come back to the house."
+
+This offer completed the conquest. Mrs. Preedy shook Becky by the hand,
+and vowed that, from the moment she had entered her service, she had
+looked upon her more as a daughter than as a domestic, and that she
+was sure she and Becky and Fanny would get along famously together. So
+gushing did she become that she offered Becky a glass of gin and water,
+which Becky declined. A double knock at the street door startled them
+both, and they went in company to answer it. A telegraph boy stood on
+the step.
+
+"Does Becky live here?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," answered the two women.
+
+"A telegram," he said, holding out the buff-coloured envelope.
+
+Becky took it, and opened it in the kitchen. It was from "Fred" to
+"Becky," and ran:--"I return to London by to-night's mail. Do not write
+again until you see or hear from me."
+
+"Who is it from?" asked Mrs. Preedy unable to restrain her curiosity.
+"What does it say?"
+
+"It's from my lawyer," replied Becky, without a blush, "and says I am to
+receive a hundred pounds to-morrow instead of fifty."
+
+"You're in luck's way, Becky," said Mrs. Preedy.
+
+"That I am," said Becky. "Can I do anything more for you to-night?"
+
+"Nothing more, thank you," said Mrs. Preedy, very politely. "Good night,
+Becky."
+
+"Good night, mum."
+
+Never in that house had such cordial relations as these existed between
+mistress and "slavey."
+
+Becky slept but little. The strange revelations made in the columns of
+the _Evening Moon_, the vindication of Frederick Holdfast's character by
+an unknown friend, the appearance of Fanny, the expected return of her
+lover, were events too stirring to admit of calm slumber. Her dreams
+were as disturbed as her rest. She dreamt of her Frederick lying dead
+on the banks of a distant river, and the man who had killed him was
+bending over the body, rifling the pockets. The man raised his head; it
+was Richard Manx, sucking his acid drops. "Ah, charming Becky," said the
+man; "accept this ring--this bracelet--this dress. Your lover is dead.
+I take his place. I am, for ever, your devoted." She fled from him,
+and he followed her through her dreams, presenting himself in a hundred
+fantastic ways. "Come," he said, "I will show you something pretty." He
+seized her hand, and dragged her to a Court-house, in the witness-box of
+which stood Lydia Holdfast, giving deadly evidence against Frederick,
+who was also there, being tried for the murder of his father. "Let me
+go!" cried Becky. "I can save him from that woman!" But Richard Manx
+held her fast. "I am your lover, not he," he whispered; "you shall not
+save him. He must die." She could not move, nor could she raise her
+voice so that the people round about could hear her. The scene changed.
+She and Frederick were together, in prison. "There is but one hope for
+me," said Frederick; "even yet I may be saved. Track that woman," (and
+here Lydia Holdfast appeared, smiling in triumph), "follow her, do not
+allow her out of your sight. But be careful; she is as cunning as a fox,
+and will slip through your fingers when you least expect it." Then she
+and Lydia Holdfast alone played parts in the running commentary of her
+dreams. "What do you want to find out," said Lydia Holdfast; "about me?
+I am a simple creature--but you are much more simple. It is a battle
+between us, for the life of a man, for the honour of a man. I accept.
+If you were a thousand times cleverer than you are, you shall not save
+him." Becky found herself with this woman in the most extraordinary
+connections--on the stage of a theatre, where both were enacting
+characters in the drama of the murder--by a dark river, lighted up
+by lightning flashes--struggling in the midst of a closely-packed
+crowd--following each other over the roofs of houses--and Lydia
+Holdfast, in every fresh presentment, crying, "Well! Have you saved him
+yet?"
+
+Becky awoke from these dreams in tears, and was glad she had Fanny in
+bed with her. She rose early, and at eight o'clock went out to buy some
+clothes for the child. When Fanny appeared before Mrs. Preedy in the
+kitchen, she was a decent-looking, tidy little girl, with a world of
+happiness in her face. She had found her friend, her angel friend, who
+would never again desert her. She understood in some dim way that Becky
+would call upon her for help in the secret which had caused her to
+assume the disguise of a servant. "I 'ope it's somethink 'ard she wants
+me to do," thought Fanny. She would like to show Becky what love and
+gratitude could accomplish.
+
+"You're a nice looking little thing," said Mrs. Preedy, pinching Fanny's
+cheek.
+
+At about eleven o'clock, Becky asked and received permission to "go to
+the lawyer's" to receive her money. Before she left the house she said
+to Fanny,
+
+"You don't forget what I said to you last night."
+
+"I couldn't if I tried," replied Fanny.
+
+"Mrs. Preedy is to know nothing. You understand, Fanny?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I shall be out for nearly an hour. If you hear a knock at the street
+door run up and open it, and if a gentleman comes and asks for me, tell
+him I shall be back before twelve."
+
+"I'll tell him, Becky."
+
+No person called, however; and Becky, returning, gave Mrs. Preedy forty
+pounds to take care of. "That," she thought, "will enable me to keep in
+this house as long as I choose to remain."
+
+All the day she waited for news of her lover. As the hours dragged on,
+her state of suspense became most painful. In the early part of the
+evening she received a note by the hands of a messenger.
+
+"My darling," it said, "I am in the deepest grief. A dreadful calamity
+has overtaken me, and I must consider well and reflect before I move a
+step. I think it best for me not to present myself in Great Porter
+Square. You want to see me, I know, as I want to see you, but before we
+meet it is necessary that you should read a Statement I am preparing for
+you, and which will be in your hands late tonight. There must be no more
+secrets between us. Believe me ever your devoted and unhappy lover."
+
+At eleven o'clock Becky received the "Statement." It was a thick packet,
+on the outside of which was written: "For no other eyes but yours." When
+the messenger arrived--he was a middle-aged man, with a shrewd face and
+eye--Mrs. Preedy was out of the house, gossiping as usual with Mrs.
+Beale, and confiding to her the wonderful news that she had a servant
+who was very rich. Mrs. Beale gave Mrs. Preedy a bit of shrewd advice.
+"Orfer to go into partnership with 'er, my dear," said Mrs. Beale, "and
+take a 'ouse on the other side of the Square." Mrs. Preedy confessed it
+was not half a bad idea.
+
+"I am to give this packet," said the messenger, "into the hands of a
+young woman named Becky."
+
+"I am Becky," said the anxious girl.
+
+"The gentleman was very particular," continued the messenger, "and I am
+to ask you if you expected it."
+
+"Yes, I expected it."
+
+"Then I was to ask you for the first letter of the gentleman's Christian
+name."
+
+"F."
+
+"That is correct." And the man handed Becky the packet.
+
+"Where is the gentleman staying?" asked Becky, offering the man a
+shilling.
+
+"No, thank you. I am well paid for what I am doing, and I was told
+not to accept anything. 'Where is the gentleman staying?' I have no
+instructions to answer the question. There is nothing else, I think.
+Yes, there _is_ something else. Are you well?"
+
+"Quite well."
+
+"I am to say that? 'Quite well.'"
+
+"Yes, say 'Quite well, but very anxious.'"
+
+"Ah! 'Quite well, but very anxious.' Good night, miss."
+
+Then Becky went to her little bedroom, and lighting a candle, opened the
+packet. Fanny was asleep, and Becky read until late in the night.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT.
+
+
+The extraordinary story which has appeared in the columns of the
+_Evening Moon_, and the dreadful intelligence it conveys to me of the
+murder of my dear father, render it imperatively necessary that I should
+place upon permanent record certain particulars and incidents relating
+to my career which will incontestibly prove that the Romance in Real
+Life which is now being inserted in every newspaper in the kingdom is
+an infamous fabrication. I am impelled to this course by two strong
+reasons. First,--Because I wish to clear myself in the eyes of the
+woman I love, from whom I have concealed my real name and position.
+Second,--Because life is so uncertain that I might not be able to do
+to-morrow what it is in my power to do to-day. I pledge myself, in the
+name of my dear mother, whose memory I revere, that I will set down here
+nothing but the truth--that I will not strive to win pity or grace by
+the faintest glossing of any particulars in which I may not appear to
+advantage--that I will not swerve by a hair's breadth from my honest
+intention to speak of the matters treated herein in a plain, unvarnished
+style. The dear one who will be the first to peruse these lines is as
+precious to me as ever woman was to man, but I will not retain her love
+by subterfuge or pretence, although it would break my heart to lose it.
+To her I am known as Frederick Maitland. To a number of persons I am--in
+connection with the murder of my father--known as Antony Cowlrick. My
+true name is Frederick Holdfast.
+
+Between myself and my father existed--until shortly after he married a
+second wife--feelings of respect and affection. During my boyhood his
+love for me was exhibited in every tender form which occurs to the mind
+of an affectionate father, and I entertained for him a love as sincere
+as his own. The death of my mother affected him powerfully. Their
+married life had been a happy one, and they lived in harmony. My mother
+was a woman with no ambition but that of making those around her happy.
+She compassed her ambition, the entire depth and scope of which was
+bounded by the word Home. After her death my father, never a man of much
+animation and conversation, became even quieter and more reserved in
+manner, but I am convinced his love for me was not lessened. He was a
+man of strong determination, and he had schooled himself to keep his
+passions and emotions in complete control. He was intense in his likes
+and dislikes--unobtrusively chivalrous and charitable--disposed to
+go to extremes in matters of feeling--thorough in friendship as in
+enmity--just in his dealings--and seldom, if ever, forgiving where his
+confidence was betrayed, or where he believed himself to be deceived.
+Such a man is apt to form wrong judgments--as my father did; to receive
+false impressions--as my father did; to be much deceived by cunning--as
+my father was. But if he was hasty to condemn, he was eager to make
+atonement when he discovered himself to be in the wrong. Then it was
+that the chivalry of his nature asserted itself.
+
+He was a successful merchant, and was proud of his successes, and proud
+also that his money was made by fair and honourable means. He said to me
+once, "I would rather see you compelled to gain a living by sweeping a
+road than that it should come to my knowledge that you have been guilty
+of a dishonourable action." I was his only child, and he had his views
+with respect to my future. He wished me to enter public life, and he
+gave me an education to fit me for it. While I was at Oxford he made
+me a handsome allowance, and once, when I found myself in debt there,
+he did not demur to settling them for me. Only once did this occur,
+and when my debts were discharged, he said, "I have increased your
+allowance, Frederick; it could not have been liberal enough, as you
+contracted debts you were unable to pay." He named the amount of my
+increased allowance, and asked me if it was sufficient. I replied that
+it was, and then he told me that he considered it a dishonourable act
+for a man to consciously contract an obligation he did not see his
+way to meet out of his own resources. "The scrape you got into with
+your creditors was an error," he said; "you did not sufficiently
+consider. You are wiser now, and what was an error in the past would be
+dishonourable in the future." I never had occasion to ask him to pay my
+debts again. I lived not only within my allowance, but I saved out of
+it--a fortunate circumstance, as I afterwards found. The result was
+obtained without my being penurious, or depriving myself of any of the
+pleasures of living indulged in by my friends and companions. I was not
+a purist; I was fond of pleasure, and I have no doubt I did many foolish
+things; but no sin lies at my door. I was never false to a friend, and I
+never betrayed a woman.
+
+Among my friends was a young man named Sydney Campbell. He is not
+living now, and nothing restrains me from speaking of him candidly and
+honestly. He was a man of brilliant parts, brilliant in scholarship, in
+debate, in social accomplishments. He affected to be a fop, and would
+assume an effeminacy which became him well--as everything became him
+which he assumed. He was as brave as a lion, and a master of fence;
+lavishly prodigal with his money, and ready, at any moment, for any
+extravagance, and especially for any extravagance which would serve
+to hide the real nobility of his nature. He would hob-a-nob with the
+lowest and vilest, saying, "Human nature is much of a muchness; why
+give ourselves airs? I am convinced I should have made an admirable
+pickpocket." But Sydney Campbell was never guilty of a meanness.
+
+He was the admiration of our set, and we made him the fashion. Though he
+affected to disdain popularity he was proud of the position we assigned
+to him, and he played us many extravagant tricks. He led us into no
+danger of which he did not court the lion's share, and he held out now
+and then an example of kindness to those in need of kindness which was
+productive of nothing but good. It would be to some men most difficult
+to reconcile with each other the amazing inconsistencies of his actions;
+now profound, now frivolous, now scholar-like and dignified, now
+boisterous and unrestrained; but I knew more of his inner nature than
+most of his acquaintances, and I learnt to love as well as admire him.
+He had large ideality, and a fund of animal spirits which he sometimes
+found it impossible to control; he had large veneration, and a sense of
+the ridiculous so strong that he would laugh with tears in his eyes
+and tenderness in his heart. I am particular in my description of him,
+because I want you to thoroughly understand him, and because it was he
+who brought me into acquaintanceship with the woman who has made me
+taste something worse than the bitterness of death.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONTINUED).
+
+
+I do not propose in this statement to refer to any incidents in Sydney
+Campbell's career which are not in some way connected with my own story.
+At a future time I will tell you more concerning him, and you will then
+be better able to do him justice. What I am about to narrate may tend to
+lower him in your eyes, and what follows may tend to lower me; but I am
+bound to speak the truth, without fear or favour. It is well, my dear,
+that to minds as pure as yours the veil is not removed from the lives
+even of the men to whom is given a full measure of respect and love.
+They are scarcely ever worthy of the feelings they have inspired. They
+show you only the fairer part of themselves; the grosser is hidden.
+The excuse that can be offered for them is that they are surrounded by
+dangerous temptations, and are not strong enough to set down pleasure's
+cup untasted, though shame and dishonour are mixed in it.
+
+A great social event was to take place. A ball was to be given in aid
+of a charity inaugurated by a Princess, and the intention being to make
+this ball thoroughly exclusive and fashionable, a committee of ladies
+was appointed to attend to the distribution of tickets. Although the
+tickets were set at a high price, they were sent out in the form of
+invitations, and each ticket bore the name of the lady or gentleman who
+was considered worthy of admission. Extraordinary care was taken to
+prevent the introduction of any person upon whose reputation there was
+the slightest stain. Some few ladies and gentlemen of high standing
+applied for privilege tickets for friends, and obtained them upon
+the guarantee that they would only be used in favour of persons of
+irreproachable character. Among those who succeeded in obtaining a
+privilege ticket from the Committee was Sydney Campbell.
+
+I, with others of our set, was present at the ball. The Princess,
+assisted by a bevy of ladies of title, received the guests, who were
+presented with much ceremony. A royal Prince honoured the assembly,
+which was one of the most brilliant I have attended. In the midst of the
+gaiety Sydney Campbell, accompanied by a lady, made his appearance. They
+were presented to the Princess, and passed into the ball room. I was not
+near enough to hear the announcement of the names, and I was first made
+aware of Sydney's presence by the remarks of persons standing around
+me. The beauty of the lady who accompanied Sydney had already excited
+attention, and the men were speaking of her in terms of admiration.
+
+"Who is she?" was asked.
+
+"Miss Campbell," was the answer; "Sydney's sister."
+
+The reply came upon me as a surprise. Sydney and I were confidential
+friends, and were in the habit of speaking freely to each other. Not
+only was I ignorant of his intention to attend the ball, but on the
+previous day he had informed me that his family were on their way to
+Nice. He had but one sister, whose portrait I had seen in his rooms.
+With some misgivings, I hastened after him to obtain a view of his
+companion. She was young, beautiful, and most exquisitely dressed, and
+although she had been in the ball room but a very few minutes, had
+already become a centre of attraction. She bore not the slightest
+resemblance to Sydney's sister.
+
+I was oppressed by a feeling of uneasiness. With Sydney's daring
+and erratic moods I was well acquainted, but I felt that if in this
+instance he was playing a trick, it would go hard with him should it be
+discovered. My desire was to speak to Sydney upon the subject, and if my
+suspicions were correct, to give him a word of friendly advice. But the
+matter was a delicate one, and Sydney was quick to take offence and to
+resent an affront. I determined, therefore, to wait awhile, and observe
+what was going on. I had upon my programme two or three engagements to
+dance, and so much interested was I in Sydney's proceedings that I did
+not add to them.
+
+Fully two hours elapsed before I obtained my opportunity to converse
+with Sydney. Our eyes had met in the course of a dance in which we were
+both engaged, and we had exchanged smiles. In the meantime matters had
+progressed. Sydney's fair companion was the rage. The men begged for an
+introduction, and surrounded her; on every side I heard them speaking of
+her beauty and fascinating ways, and one said, in my hearing:
+
+"By gad! she is the most delightful creature I ever danced with."
+
+It was not the words, but the tone in which they were spoken, which
+jarred upon my ears. It was such as the speaker would not have adopted
+to a lady. My observation led me to another unpleasant impression.
+Sydney's fair companion appeared to be an utter stranger to the ladies
+present at the ball. Not only did they seem not to know her, but they
+seemed to avoid her. After patient waiting, my opportunity came, and
+Sydney and I were side by side.
+
+"At last!" he exclaimed. "I have been waiting to speak to you all the
+evening."
+
+"My case exactly," I rejoined. "Anything particular to communicate,
+Sydney?"
+
+"I hardly know," he said. "O, yes--there is something. How is it you
+have not asked for an introduction to the most beautiful woman in the
+room?"
+
+"To your sister?" I asked, in a meaning tone.
+
+"Yes," he replied with a light laugh, "to my sister."
+
+"She did not go to Nice, then," I said.
+
+"Who said she did not?" he asked, and instantly corrected himself. "Ah,
+I am forgetful. I remember now I told you my people were going there.
+Yes--they are in Nice by this time, no doubt."
+
+His eyes met mine; they sparkled with mischief, but in their light I saw
+an expression of mingled tenderness and defiance which puzzled me.
+
+"You have done a daring thing, Sydney," I said.
+
+"Is that unlike me?"
+
+"No; but in this case you may have overlooked certain considerations.
+Where is the young lady at the present moment?"
+
+He pointed to the head of the room.
+
+"There--dancing with the Prince. Come, old man, don't look so grave.
+She is as good as the best of them, and better than most. Do I not know
+them?--these smug matrons and affected damsels, who present themselves
+to you as though they had been brought up on virtue and water, and who
+are as free from taint of wickedness as Diana was when she popped upon
+Endymion unaware. Chaste Diana! What a parody! Pretty creatures, Fred,
+these modern ones--but sly, sir, devilish sly! Do I not know them, with
+their airs and affectations and false assumptions of superior virtue?
+That is it--assume it if you have it not--which I always thought
+dishonest, unmanly advice on Hamlet's part. But now and then--very
+rarely, old man!--comes a nineteenth century Diogenes, in white tie and
+swallow-tail, who holds a magic mirror to pretended modesty's face, and
+sees beneath. What is the use of living, if one has not the courage of
+his opinions? And I have mine, and will stand by them--to the death! So
+I tell you again, Fred, there is no lady in these rooms of whom she is
+not the equal. If you want to understand what life really is, old man,
+you must get behind the scenes."
+
+"Can one man set the world right?" I asked.
+
+"He can do a man's work towards it, and if he shirk it when it presents
+itself, let him rot in the gutter."
+
+I drew him from the room, for he was excited, and was attracting
+attention. When we were alone, I said,
+
+"Sydney, what impelled you to introduce a lady into this assembly under
+a false name?"
+
+"A woman's curiosity," he replied, "and a man's promise. It had to be
+done, the promise being given. Fred, I exact no pledge from you. We
+speak as man to man, and I know you are not likely to fall away from
+me. I hate the soft current in which fashion lolls, and simpers, and
+lies--it palls upon the taste, and I do not intend to become its slave.
+I choose the more dangerous haven--sweetly dangerous, Fred--in which
+honesty and innocence (allied, of course, with natural human desires and
+promptings) find some sort of resting-place. It is a rocky haven, you
+say, and timid feet are bleeding there; but the bold can tread the path
+with safety. If you could see what underlies the mask of mock modesty,
+as from a distance it views its higher nature, you would see a yearning
+to share in the danger and the pleasure which honest daring ensures."
+
+It is not in my power to recall the exact words spoken by Sydney
+Campbell at this and subsequent conversations; all I can do is to
+endeavour to convey to you an idea of the kind of man he was, so that
+you may the better comprehend what kind of a woman she was who held him
+in her toils. Sydney continued:
+
+"She wished so much to be here to-night! She has no parents and no
+family; she is absolutely alone in the world--or would be, but for me.
+Wait, old man; you shall know more of her, and you will be satisfied.
+It happened in this way. I was gasconading, I suppose--talking in
+heroics--flinging my words to the winds, and making a fool of myself
+generally. Then came up the subject of the ball. You know that the whole
+city has been ringing with it for a month past, and that a thousand
+women are in despair because they could not obtain an introduction. I
+dilated upon it, scornfully perhaps. A Prince was to be here--a Princess
+too. 'And you are as good,' said I to her, 'as any Princess in the
+kingdom.' 'I hope I am,' she answered softly--she has a voice of music,
+Fred--'I hope I am, but I could not gain admission to the ball.' I
+fired up. 'Do you wish to go?' 'Do I wish to go?' she echoed. 'To dance
+with a Prince, perhaps! Am I a woman?' A field of adventure was opened
+up to me. 'You shall go,' I said. 'Is that a promise?' she asked
+eagerly. 'It is a promise,' I replied. After that there was but one
+thing left for me to do--to fulfil my promise, at any risk, at any
+hazard. I _have_ fulfilled it, and I am content. It is like stolen
+fruit, old man--that is what she said to me. A very human creature,
+Fred, and a child at heart. And Grace is dancing with a Prince, and
+everybody is happy."
+
+"Child as she is," I remarked, "she must be possessed of great courage
+to venture thus into a den of lionesses."
+
+"You mistake her," said Sydney. "It is I who sustain her. She told me
+as much a few minutes since, and whispered that if I were not here she
+would run away. A certain kind of courage she must possess, however;
+liken it to the courage of a modest and beautiful wild flower which
+dares to hold up its head in the midst of its bolder and more showy
+sisters."
+
+I saw that he was in love with her, and I hinted it to him. He replied
+frankly,
+
+"If I do not love her, love itself is a delusion."
+
+I asked him who she was, and he replied,
+
+"A daughter of Eve, and therefore the equal of a queen."
+
+This was the substance of our conversation, which lasted for about
+half an hour, and at the end of it we entered the ballroom. During our
+absence a change had taken place in the aspect of affairs. I was not the
+only person who had seen the portrait of Sydney's sister, and who failed
+to recognise its living presentment in the lady he had introduced. Grace
+was dancing, and certain dowagers were watching her with suspicious
+eyes. Sydney observed this, and laughingly ascribed it to jealousy.
+
+"If Grace were an ugly woman," he said, "they would not be up in arms
+against her. Grace is no match for these experienced tacticians; I will
+soon change their frowns into smiles."
+
+It was no vain boast; the charm of his manner was very great, and few
+persons could resist it. Perhaps he recognised, with all his daring,
+the danger of an open scandal, and saw, further, that the lady whose
+champion he was would be made to suffer in the unequal contest. To avert
+such a catastrophe he brought to bear all his tact and all his grace
+of manner with the leaders of fashion. He flattered and fooled them;
+he parried their artful questions; he danced and flirted with their
+daughters; and the consequence was that at four o'clock in the morning
+he escorted his beautiful companion in triumph from the ball.
+
+The following evening Sydney came uninvited to my rooms, and asked me to
+accompany him to Grace's house.
+
+"She intends to be angry with you," he said, "because you did not ask
+her to dance last night."
+
+"She was well supplied with partners," I replied; "she could have had
+three for every dance, it appeared to me."
+
+I was curious to ascertain the real position of affairs, and Sydney and
+I rode to a pretty little cottage in the suburbs, which Grace occupied,
+with a duenna in the place of a mother.
+
+Now let me describe, as well as I can, in what relation Grace and my
+friend, Sydney Campbell, stood to each other. And before doing so it
+is necessary, for the proper understanding of what will be presently
+narrated, that I should inform you that, as I knew this woman by no
+other name than Grace, she knew me by no other name than Frederick.
+
+I never understood exactly how their acquaintanceship commenced. Grace,
+Sydney told me, was companion to a lady in moderate circumstances, who
+treated the girl more like an animal than a human being. Some quixotic
+adventure took Sydney to the house of this lady, and shortly afterwards
+Grace left her situation, and found herself, friendless, upon the
+world. Sydney stepped in, and out of the chivalry of his nature proposed
+that he should take a house for her in the suburbs, where, with an
+elderly lady for a companion, she could live in comfort. She accepted
+his offer, and at the time of the ball they had known each other for
+between three and four months. In the eyes of the world, therefore,
+Grace was living under Sydney Campbell's protection. But, as surely as
+I am now writing plain truths in plain words, so surely am I convinced
+that the intimacy between the two was perfectly innocent, and that
+Sydney treated and regarded Grace with such love and respect as he would
+have bestowed on a beloved sister. It was not as a sister he loved her,
+but there was no guilt in their association. To believe this of most men
+would have been difficult--to believe it of Sydney Campbell was easy
+enough to one who knew him as I knew him. None the less, however, would
+the verdict of the world have been condemnatory of them. I pointed this
+out to Sydney.
+
+"It matters little," he said. "I can be sufficiently happy under the
+ban of those whose opinions I despise."
+
+"But it affects the lady," I said, "more deeply than it affects you."
+
+"Ignorance is bliss," he replied. "She is not likely to hear the
+calumny. If any man or woman insults her, I shall know how to act."
+
+"You have thought of the future, Sydney," I said.
+
+"Scarcely," he said; "sufficient for the day is the good thereof. I love
+her--she loves me--that is happiness enough for the present. One day we
+shall marry--that is certain. But there are obstacles in the way."
+
+"On whose side?" I asked.
+
+"On both. My obstacle is this: I could not marry, without a certainty of
+being able to maintain her as a lady. I am dependent upon my father, and
+he has his crotchets. I shall overcome them, but it will take time. I do
+not believe in love in a cottage for a man with tastes and habits such
+as mine; and if my father were to turn his back upon me, I should be
+in a perplexing position. However, I have little doubt as to my being
+able to guide our boat into safe waters. But there is an obstacle on
+Grace's side. I am about to impart a secret to you. Her life has been
+most unfortunate; she has been most cruelly served, and most cruelly
+betrayed. Would you believe that when she was sixteen years of age, she
+was entrapped into a marriage with a scoundrel--entrapped by her own
+father, who is now dead? This husband, whom she hated, deserted her,
+and having fled to India, in consequence of serious involvements in
+this country, died there. News of his death, placing it almost beyond
+a doubt, reached her, but she did not take the trouble to verify it,
+having resolved never again to marry and to entrust her life and future
+into another man's keeping. No wonder, poor child! But now that I have
+won her love, and that in all honour only one course is open to us, it
+has resolved itself into a necessity that an official certificate of his
+death should be in our hands before we can link our lives together. I
+have but one more remark to make, and then, having confided in you as
+I have confided in no other man, we need never touch upon these topics
+again. It is that, having given this girl my love, and having won hers,
+no slander that human being can utter can touch her to her hurt in my
+mind or in my heart. You know me too well to suppose that I can be made
+to swerve where I have placed my faith, and love, and trust--and these
+are in her keeping."
+
+He was right. I knew him, as he said, too well to believe, or to be made
+to believe, that human agency outside himself could shake his faith in
+her. Only the evidence of his own senses (and even of that he would make
+himself sure in all its collateral bearings) could ever turn him against
+the woman to whom he gave all that was noblest and brightest in a
+bright and noble nature. But soon after I became acquainted with her I
+distrusted her. That which was hidden from him was plain to me. I saw
+clearly she was playing upon him, and loved him no more than we love
+a tool that is useful to us. The knowledge made my position as his
+friend, almost as his brother (for I loved him with a brother's love)
+very difficult to sustain. A painful and delicate duty was before me,
+and I resolved to perform it with as much wisdom as I could bring to
+my aid. I had a cunning and clever mind to work against in the mind
+of this woman, and I played a cunning part. It was in the cause of
+friendship, as sacred to me as love. When the troubles which surround
+your life and mine, my dear, are at an end--when light is thrown upon
+the terrible mystery which surrounds my father's death--when I can
+present myself once more to the world in the name which is rightly
+mine--when my father's murderer is brought to justice, and I am clear
+from suspicion--I shall prove to you that I am not only your lover,
+and, as I hope to be, your husband, but that I am your friend.
+Friendship and love combined are as much as we can hope for in this
+world or in the next.
+
+When Grace first occupied the cottage--I call it so, although really it
+was a roomy house, surrounded by a beautiful garden--which Sydney took
+for her, she professed to be contented with the occasional visits of her
+benefactor and lover. In speaking of her now I speak of her as I know
+her, not as I suspected her to be during our early acquaintanceship. She
+was ignorant of the character of the man who had stepped forward to help
+her in her distress, and time was required to gauge him and to develop
+what plans she desired to work out. Therefore, for the first two
+months all went along smoothly. Then came the ball, and the excitement
+attending it. After a storm comes a calm, but Grace was not the kind of
+woman to be contented to pass her days without adventure. She had, as
+she believed, probed her lover's nature to its uttermost depth, and with
+winning cards in her hands she commenced to play her game. She said she
+was dull and wanted company.
+
+"What kind of company?" said Sydney.
+
+"Any kind you please," she replied. "I know nobody. Your own friends
+will be welcome to me."
+
+I was the first he introduced, and in a short time a dozen or so of our
+set made her cottage a common place of resort. Men must have something
+to amuse themselves with, and she supplied it in the shape of cards.
+Night after night we assembled in her cottage, and drank, and smoked,
+and gambled. She was a charming hostess, and some paid her court in a
+light way. No harm came of it; she knew, or believed she knew, how far
+she could go with such a man as Sydney, and none of his friends received
+encouragement of a nature which was likely to disturb him. Others beside
+myself did not give their hostess credit for more virtue than she
+possessed, but it was no business of theirs, and they did not interfere
+between Sydney and his lady. So he was allowed to live for a time in his
+fool's paradise. He was an inveterate gambler, and he could not resist
+cards, or dice, or any game of chance. Playing almost always with the
+odds against him, you will understand how it was that he lost, nine
+times out of ten.
+
+Among the frequenters of the cottage was a young man, a mere lad,
+who really was infatuated with his hostess, and was not sufficiently
+experienced to cut the strings of the net she threw around him. I will
+call the young man Adolph; he lives, and I hope has grown wiser. The
+tragedy of which he was a witness should have produced upon him an
+impression sufficiently strong to banish folly from his life, even
+though he lived to a hundred years. Sydney rather encouraged the passion
+of this lad for Grace. I knew that she told Sydney that he was like a
+brother who had died young, and that her statement was sufficient to
+make him believe that her liking for the lad sprang from this cause.
+Therefore Adolph was privileged, and treated with the familiarity of a
+brother, and became the envied of those who, if they dared, would have
+entered the lists with Sydney for the favour of their charming hostess.
+
+In our gambling tournaments we did not stop at cards and dice; roulette
+was introduced, and very soon became the favourite game. One night,
+Adolph asked to be allowed to introduce a friend, a cousin, who happened
+to be in the neighbourhood, and found time hang heavily on his hands.
+
+"A dozen if you like," said Sydney, heartily, tapping the lad's
+cheek--"if you can gain permission from our Queen."
+
+It was a habit with Sydney, when he referred to Grace in our company, to
+speak of her as "Our Queen," and we often addressed her as "Your
+Majesty."
+
+"I am not sure," said Grace, "whether we shall allow strangers to be
+introduced."
+
+She looked at Adolph; he coloured and stammered.
+
+"This gentleman is not a stranger; he is my cousin."
+
+"Do you vouch for him?" asked Grace, playfully.
+
+"Of course I do," replied the lad.
+
+"Can he afford to pay. If he loses, will you pay his losses, if he
+cannot?" asked the most experienced gambler in our set--a man who
+generally won.
+
+This time Adolph looked at Grace; she returned his look with a smile,
+which seemed to say, "Well? Do you not know your lesson?" But only by
+me was this smile properly understood.
+
+"I am answerable for him," cried Adolph.
+
+"Enough said!" exclaimed Sydney. "Tell your cousin to bring plenty of
+money with him. I have lost a fortune, and must get it back from some
+one. Who will take the bank at roulette? I have a system which will win
+me at least a thou. to-night."
+
+But Sydney's system failed somehow, and instead of winning a thousand,
+he lost two.
+
+The next night Adolph's cousin was introduced. His name was Pelham. I
+cannot say what impression he produced upon others; I can only speak of
+the impression he produced upon me. I looked at him and said mentally,
+"This man is no gentleman;" and then again, "Of all the men I have ever
+met, this man is the one I would be the least disposed to trust." But he
+was cordially welcomed, because he was Adolph's friend and cousin. Our
+hostess paid him but slight attention, and this increased my suspicion
+of him.
+
+The following incidents occurred on this night. We were assembled round
+the roulette table. Mr. Pelham was the only one among us who was not
+backing a colour, or a number, or _paire_ or _impaire_, or _manque_ or
+_passe_.
+
+"Do you not play?" I asked. I was sitting next to him.
+
+"I am trying to understand the game," he replied.
+
+"Have you never been in Monaco?" I enquired.
+
+"Never," he said.
+
+I explained the points in the game to him, but he did not appear to take
+any interest in it.
+
+"What game do you play?" I asked.
+
+"Cribbage," he replied, "or ecartè, or all fours, or euchre, or poker.
+I have been in America."
+
+I proposed ecartè to him, and we sat down to a modest game. I offered to
+play for high stakes; he declined; and at the end of an hour I had won
+some fifteen pounds of him. Then we rose from our table, and watched
+the roulette players; but I was more employed in watching him than the
+turning of the wheel. He threw an occasional sovereign down, almost
+chancing where it fell, and he lost with a good grace. Others were
+staking their tens and fifties. Fifty was the limit; but he never
+exceeded his sovereign.
+
+"It is enough to lose at a time," he said.
+
+In the course of the night I calculated that he had lost about fifty
+pounds. He was one of the first to leave, and he scarcely touched 'our
+Queen's' hand as he bade her good night, and asked permission to come
+again. A permission graciously given.
+
+Now, the suspicion I had entertained towards him lessened when I
+considered how he had conducted himself, and but for a chance remark
+made by Sydney, and the incidents that followed, I should have accused
+myself of injustice.
+
+"We approve of Mr. Pelham," said Sydney to Adolph; "have you any more
+cousins?"
+
+The lad with a doubtful expression in his face looked at Grace, and as
+it seemed to me, taking his cue from her, replied,
+
+"No more."
+
+"Put a little spirit in him," cried Sydney, clapping Adolph on the
+shoulder. "Tell him we can fill his pockets, or empty them. Faint heart
+never won fair lady yet."
+
+I call this, Incident Number One.
+
+Again:
+
+We had all bidden our hostess good night. Sydney and I stood at the
+street door, lighting fresh cigars. Adolph had lingered behind.
+
+"One moment, Sydney," I said; "I must go and fetch that boy."
+
+I re-entered the house, softly and suddenly. Adolph and Grace were
+standing at the end of the passage, in the dark.
+
+"Did I do my lesson well?" I heard Adolph ask in a low tone.
+
+"Perfectly," said Grace, "and I owe you anything you ask for."
+
+"A kiss, then!" cried the lad, eagerly.
+
+The reward was given.
+
+"Adolph!" I cried; "we are waiting for you."
+
+Adolph came towards me, and Grace, darting into a room, appeared with a
+light in her hand. Adolph's face was scarlet; his eyes were moist and
+bright.
+
+"The foolish lad," said Grace to me, with perfect self-possession; "I
+gave him a kiss, and he blushes like a girl. Do you hear, Sydney?"
+
+"I hear," said Sydney with a gay laugh. "I am not jealous of Adolph.
+Good night, dear."
+
+I call this, Incident Number Two.
+
+Again:
+
+On our way home I asked Sydney if Grace had obtained the certificate of
+the death of her first husband. He replied that she had not. There was
+no doubt that he was dead, but Circumlocution and Red-tapeism stopped
+the way.
+
+"We shall get it presently," he said, "and then our course will be
+clear."
+
+He spoke in an anxious tone. I suspected the cause. He was thinking of
+his losses at the gaming table, which by this time amounted to over ten
+thousand pounds. Every man among us held his I O U's.
+
+"Luck must turn, Fred," he said.
+
+"I hope it will!" I replied, "with all my heart."
+
+"And if it does not," he murmured, "I shall have Grace!"
+
+I pitied him, with all my heart; but I dared not undeceive him.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONTINUED).
+
+
+At this time Sydney began to feel the effects of his temerity in
+introducing Grace to the ball. Certain rumours and whispers affecting
+Grace's character and Sydney's connection with her, caused the lady
+patronesses of the ball to institute inquiries, and the consequence was
+that Sydney was quietly but firmly banished from society. Houses which
+he was in the habit of visiting were closed against him; mothers who had
+held out a welcome hand to him now frigidly returned his bow or openly
+cut him; fathers--bound to an outward show of morality--turned their
+backs upon him or affected not to see him; marriageable young ladies,
+with whom, as an unengaged man, he had hitherto been an adorable being,
+looked any way but in his direction when they met in the thoroughfares.
+When Sydney became aware of this alteration in his social standing, he
+tested it to its fullest extent, and having quite convinced himself,
+proclaimed open defiance.
+
+"War to the knife," he said.
+
+He carried the war into the enemy's quarters. He appeared with Grace
+upon every public occasion that presented itself. In the theatre he
+engaged the best and most conspicuous seats, and sat by the side of
+Grace with Society's eyes full upon him. It did not help his cause that
+Grace was invariably the most beautifully-dressed lady in the assembly,
+and that her brightness and animation attracted general admiration.
+
+Adolph espoused Grace's cause with complete disregard of consequences;
+his cousin, Mr. Pelham, however, held aloof, and simply bowed to her in
+public.
+
+"Adolph is very fond of Grace," I said to Sydney.
+
+"She is fond of him, too," responded Sydney. "What of that? He is but a
+boy!"
+
+It struck me as strange that, out of Grace's house, Adolph and Mr.
+Pelham scarcely ever spoke to each other; as cousins they should have
+been more intimate. But this circumstance helped to strengthen my
+suspicions, and to render me more keenly watchful of the course of
+events. Before long Mr. Pelham became an adept at roulette; the first
+night he spent at Grace's house was the only night on which he lost.
+Good luck ranged itself on his side, and he generally departed with a
+comfortable sum in his possession. True, it was represented principally
+by I. O. U.'s., but with the exception of Sydney there was not one of us
+who could not afford immediately to pay his losses. For my own part I
+did not lose; I even won a little; I played for small stakes, and Mr.
+Pelham, winning so largely from others, did not grudge paying me,
+without commenting on my caution or timidity. He now always acted as
+banker at roulette; taking his seat at the head of the table with the
+accustomed air of a professional; never making a mistake in paying or
+receiving. His aptitude was wonderful. Sydney's losses grew larger and
+larger, and the more he lost the more recklessly he betted. Mr. Pelham
+was soon his principal creditor, and held the largest portion of his
+paper.
+
+One day, when I was out riding, my horse cast a shoe. The accident
+happened within a couple of hundred yards of Grace's cottage. There was
+a blacksmith near, and it occurred to me to leave my horse with the
+blacksmith, and drop in upon Grace for a bit of lunch.
+
+Upon my summons at the door being answered, I was informed that Grace
+was not at home. Having a little time to spare, I strolled about the
+country lanes, and came suddenly upon a lady and gentleman conversing
+together. Their backs were towards me, but I recognised them instantly.
+The lady was Grace, and the gentleman Mr. Pelham. They were conversing
+earnestly, and I should have retired immediately had it not been for
+the first few words which reached my ears. They were spoken by Mr.
+Pelham, who said:
+
+"It is time to gather in the harvest. We must get your fool of a lover
+to stump up. Here is a list of his I O U's--in all, more than fourteen
+thousand pounds. We shall be able to cut a dash, my girl. We'll go to
+Monaco again, and this time we'll break the bank."
+
+"I'm agreeable," replied Grace; "I am tired of this life, and I don't
+think I could keep up my part much longer. Sydney is all very well, but
+he is too lackadaisical."
+
+"I should think he is, for such as you, Grace," said Mr. Pelham; "too
+goody-goody, eh, my girl? You want a man with a spice of the devil in
+him. But he has suited our turn, and you have played your part well.
+Give me some praise. Haven't I been magnanimous in trusting you with
+him--haven't I been confiding? You wouldn't get many lovers like
+me--trusting you out of their sight, without ever a shadow of
+suspicion. Then there's our young pigeon, Adolph----"
+
+"A child!" cried Grace.
+
+"Quite old enough," retorted Mr. Pelham, "for me to twist his neck for
+him if I had any doubts of you. But I haven't, my girl. It is not only
+love, but interest, that binds us together."
+
+They passed on out of my sight without having perceived me. I was
+astounded, not by the discovery, but by the coarse, brutal nature of the
+plot in which Sydney's honour was sacrificed. This woman, Grace, was a
+worthless schemer and a deliberate cheat. The man, Mr. Pelham, was a
+blackleg and a ruffian. O, that such a nature as my friend Sydney's
+should have been so played upon! That such a noble heart as his should
+have been so basely betrayed! Here was my difficulty. It was the very
+nobility and generosity of his nature that would cause him openly to
+break with me if I attempted to open his eyes to the treachery, backed
+only by the imperfect testimony I could bring forward. His first step
+would be to rush to Grace, and inform her of my accusation, and once
+upon their guard, this man and this woman would weave their net about
+him too cunningly and cleverly to allow him an opportunity to break
+through its meshes. Whom could I enlist to aid me? I had an intimate
+friend whose assistance I would have asked, and he would freely have
+given it, but he was absent from Oxford. I could think of but one ally,
+a dangerous friend to enlist because of his inexperience and of his
+feelings towards Grace. But I determined to risk it. I spoke to Adolph.
+
+"Adolph," I said, "can we two speak together in perfect confidence, as
+man to man?"
+
+"Yes," replied the lad, colouring, "in perfect confidence. I hope you
+are not going to lecture me about Grace."
+
+"Why should I lecture you about her?" I asked, glad at this clearing of
+the ground. "You are fond of her, I know, but that is a matter of the
+heart. You would do nothing dishonourable, nor would you be a party to
+dishonour."
+
+"No, indeed," he cried, and went no further.
+
+His face was scarlet; I knew in what way his conscience was pricked.
+
+"We all make mistakes," I said, half gaily; I did not wish to frighten
+him by an over-display of seriousness; "the best as well as the worst of
+us; the oldest as well as the youngest of us. We have a good many dreams
+in life, Adolph, to which we cling in earnestness and true faith, and
+when we awake from them and our suffering is over, we smile at ourselves
+for our credulity. You are dreaming such a dream now, and if I rouse you
+from it I do so for a good purpose, and out of consideration for another
+as well as for yourself. Tell me--why did you introduce Mr. Pelham into
+Grace's house as your cousin? You are silent. Shall I answer for you? It
+was because Grace herself asked you to do so."
+
+"Yes," said Adolph, "she asked me, and I did it."
+
+"Are you satisfied with yourself for having done so?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied.
+
+"I will tell you why," I said. "You never saw Mr. Pelham until he made
+his appearance on that unfortunate evening, and you have discovered, as
+we have all discovered, that he is not a gentleman."
+
+"He is Grace's friend," said Adolph.
+
+"Does that speak in her favour, or in his? Think over certain events,
+Adolph. Mr. Pelham, a stranger to all of us, is the friend of this lady.
+But if you will remember, upon his first visits, she and he scarcely
+spoke to each other, and when they meet in public the recognition that
+passes between them is so slight as to be remarkable. There is something
+suspicious in this, which even you, infatuated as you are, will
+recognise. Whom would you choose for your friend, Mr. Pelham or Sydney
+Campbell? In whose company would you rather be seen--whose hand would
+you rather shake--to whose honour would you rather trust your honour?"
+
+"To Sydney Campbell," said Adolph. "There is no choice between them.
+Sydney is a gentleman. Mr. Pelham is a ----"
+
+He did not complete the sentence; I supplied the omission. "Mr. Pelham
+is a blackleg. You start! Before you are many days older I will prove it
+to you; if I do not, I will submit to any penalty you may inflict upon
+me."
+
+He puckered his brows. "You are not the only one," he said, biting his
+lips, "who has spoken against him."
+
+"There are others, then, whose suspicions have been aroused?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. ----" (mentioning the most accomplished card-player in our
+set) "says that he palms the cards or has the devil's luck."
+
+"The proof of either in any man would be sufficient to make him unfit
+company for gentlemen, for honourable men who play fair. Adolph,
+remember, you are responsible for him." The lad winced. "There is but
+one manly course before you--to clear the character of this man, or to
+expose him. If we are doing him an injustice in our estimate of him,
+there can be no exposure; he will come out of the fire unscathed. If we
+succeed in proving our suspicions unfounded, you will be clear. And even
+then I should advise you to make a clean breast of it. Subterfuge and
+deceit, my dear lad, are not gentlemen's weapons. When we strike a man,
+we strike him in the face--we do not stab in the back."
+
+"What will Grace say?" murmured Adolph.
+
+"What _can_ she say? In the case of an exposure, it is you who have been
+wronged, not she. She knew the character of the man whom she induced
+you to introduce as your cousin--to you he was utterly unknown. You had
+never set eyes on him before that evening. As you are answerable to us,
+so is she answerable to you. And if she reproach you unreasonably, ask
+her--prepare for a shock, Adolph; I am going to give you one straight
+from the shoulder--ask her whether less than three lovers at a time will
+not content her."
+
+"Mr. Holdfast," cried Adolph, drawing himself up, "I request an
+explanation of your words."
+
+"You shall have it, Adolph. First and foremost, is not Sydney Campbell,
+your friend and mine, is he not Grace's accepted lover? You shrink; why?
+Because you also, in some sense, are her accepted lover. Men have eyes,
+Adolph, and you cannot be so simple as to suppose you have escaped
+observation. I ask you for no confession, but many of us have seen and
+remarked upon your infatuation. Now, say that Grace has encouraged you.
+Is that honest on her part towards Sydney? Say that you have made love
+to her secretly, led on by the force of your passion, and perhaps a
+little by her--is that honest on _your_ part towards Sydney? It strikes
+me, if the case be as I have represented it, that Sydney is much wronged
+by the young lad in whom he places full confidence, and by the lady to
+whom he has given his love. Come, Adolph, if I have cut deep, it is
+out of friendship. It is an ugly business, my lad, and I can find no
+justification for it. But the worst part of the unhappy story remains
+to be disclosed. Sydney Campbell is this lady's lover, and she
+encourages him; you are this lady's lover, and she encourages you; Mr.
+Pelham is this lady's lover, and she is his. You may well turn pale.
+She brings this blackleg lover of hers into the house--into Sydney's
+house--under false colours. On my oath, Adolph, I am speaking the truth
+when I speak of Grace as Mr. Pelham's lover. She plays _you_ into his
+hands--but you are subsidiary in the affair, my lad. The big stake lies
+with our friend Sydney. She plays _him_ into this blackleg's hands,
+and sullies the reputation and breaks the heart of as high-minded a
+gentleman as you and I can hope to meet again in life!"
+
+I had spoken earnestly, and I saw that I had produced the impression I
+desired. Then I related to Adolph all that I knew, and having driven
+conviction home to him, we made a solemn compact to do our best to open
+Sydney's eyes to the infamous scheme of which he was the victim. Adolph
+was to act implicitly under my instructions; I remember how troubled
+he was when he left me, and I judged it well that he should be left to
+himself in his suffering. Poor lad! It was his first experience in human
+treachery, and he suffered the more that his heart was confiding and
+tender.
+
+On this evening it was that Sydney, in my company, lashed himself into a
+furious state of indignation at a slight that had been put upon Grace in
+his hearing. It occurred in a club, and Sidney, with a violent display
+of temper, defended Grace, and attacked the character of the gentleman
+who had uttered a simple word or two to Grace's disparagement. Sydney
+was not content with attacking the character of the gentleman; he
+attacked the lady members of the gentleman's family, with whom he had
+once been intimate, and called them a parcel of scheming, jealous jades,
+who could not believe in purity because they did not themselves possess
+it. He exceeded the bounds of moderation, it must be confessed, and a
+scene ensued that was not soon forgotten.
+
+"The injustice of the world," cried Sydney to me, "is enough to drive an
+earnest man mad--as I have no doubt it has driven many. That gentleman
+and his mother and sisters would lower their false faces to the ground
+before Lady this and Lady that"--he mentioned the names of the ladies,
+but it is unnecessary to set them down here--"who are wealthy and highly
+connected, but who are not fit to tie the shoe-strings of my poor
+persecuted Grace, nor the shoe-strings of any girl who has a spark of
+virtue in her. You have seen Grace times enough now, Fred, to be able
+to appreciate her purity, her modesty, her innocence, at their proper
+worth. There lives not on earth a woman more worthy the love and esteem
+of man!"
+
+Then he broke out into a rhapsody of extravagant adoration which would
+have amazed me had I not been acquainted with the intense chivalry of
+his nature. The more Grace was vilified, the more stoutly would he stand
+by her; the stronger the detraction, the stronger his love. It was not
+while he was in such a humour as this that I could commence to play the
+part of an honest Iago.
+
+"By heavens!" he cried, flourishing a letter; "here is my father also
+coming forward to strike a feeble woman, whose only armour is her
+virtue. In this letter he expresses his sorrow at the intelligence which
+has reached him that I am getting myself talked about in connection
+with a woman of disgraceful character. The honour of his name is in my
+keeping, he says, and he looks to me to do nothing to tarnish it. Nor
+will I. To stand up, as I am standing up, against the world, in defence
+of virtue, purity, and innocence, can but reflect honour on the highest,
+and so I have told him. Look you, Fred; I know what I am staking in this
+matter. I am staking my life, and my heart, and all that is precious to
+my better nature; and the prize is worth it."
+
+We adjourned to Grace's house, where Sydney paid Grace the most delicate
+attention; it was as though he felt that he owed her reparation for the
+ill opinion of the world. It was an eventful night; Sydney proposed to
+take the bank at roulette, and it appeared as if his luck had really
+turned. He won back all the I O U's he had given us, and his only
+creditor was Mr. Pelham, who had won or lost but a small sum. Sydney
+twitted him for the smallness of his stakes, and Mr. Pelham, seemingly
+stung by the sarcasm, plunged heavily. By mutual consent the limit
+was increased, and the battle between the two became so exciting that
+the other players round the table staked but trifling amounts, their
+attention being engrossed by the dangerous duel. Fortune being in the
+balance, now Sydney won, now Mr. Pelham; but presently Mr. Pelham, with
+the air of a man who intended to win all or lose all, threw a hundred
+pounds I O U upon a number. Sydney looked grave for a moment, and then,
+with a careless toss of the head, turned the wheel. The number did not
+turn up, and Sydney won the hundred; all felt relieved, for if the
+number Mr. Pelham backed had come up, it would have cost Sydney
+thirty-five hundred pounds in one coup.
+
+"Again?" asked Mr. Pelham, tauntingly.
+
+"Again," assented Sydney, with a scornful laugh.
+
+Mr. Pelham threw down upon a number another of Sydney's I O U for a
+hundred, and again Sydney won. This occurred five or six times in
+succession until Sydney cried,
+
+"Double it, if you wish!"
+
+Mr. Pelham accepted the challenge; but now he appeared to play with
+greater deliberation. He placed two hundred pounds each on numbers 5 and
+24, exactly opposite zero. I looked at Grace; she was leaning over the
+table, watching the duel with eager eyes, and I could see that her
+whole soul was in the game. Round and round went the wheel, and we all
+followed the progress of the marble with the most intense interest. The
+ball fell into 28, and Sydney won.
+
+"I shall stick to my numbers," said Mr. Pelham, staking similar amounts
+upon the same two numbers. This time zero appeared, and Sydney swept
+the board. Again the two numbers were backed for the high stakes, and
+now the marble rolled into number 24.
+
+"There's nothing like constancy," cried Mr. Pelham.
+
+Sydney, with a steady hand, wrote out an I O U for seven thousand
+pounds, and threw it over to Mr. Pelham.
+
+Once more the same numbers were backed, and the devil sent the marble
+rolling back for the second time into number 24.
+
+"Always back the last number and the last colour," cried Mr. Pelham.
+
+"For a novice, Pelham," remarked one of our party, "you play exceedingly
+well."
+
+The slight sneer which accompanied the remark was not lost upon us, but
+Mr. Pelham did not appear to notice it. I believe at that moment there
+was not a man in the room who would not have been made happy by the
+opportunity of picking a quarrel with him.
+
+"There is nothing difficult to learn in it," said Mr. Pelham; "even such
+a poor player as myself may happen to be favoured by fortune."
+
+Sydney, meanwhile, had written another I O U for seven thousand pounds;
+he handed it to Mr. Pelham, saying,
+
+"You will give me my revenge?"
+
+"Most certainly," replied Mr. Pelham. "Now?"
+
+"No," said Sydney, "to-morrow night. You hold a great deal of my paper?"
+
+Mr. Pelham produced his pocket-book, and added up some figures.
+
+"Something under twenty thousand," said Mr. Pelham.
+
+Sydney nodded gravely, and not rising from his seat, twirled the wheel
+carelessly, and apparently in deep thought. Roulette, however, was over
+for the night, and the men broke up into small parties, some playing
+hazard, some unlimited loo. I alone remained with Sydney by the wheel.
+As carelessly as himself, I threw the marble in as he turned the wheel.
+He gave me an intelligent glance, and we continued our idle game for a
+couple of dozen turns of the wheel. Numbers 5 or 24 came up on average
+about once in every six turns. Sydney rose from the table, and in such
+a manner as not to attract attention I examined the wheel. It did not
+occupy me long to discover that it had been tampered with. The spaces
+between the two numbers Mr. Pelham had backed were wider than those
+which divided the other numbers, and the circumstance of numbers 5 and
+24 being opposite Zero gave the backer an immense advantage. The chances
+in his favour were increased by another discovery I made. Where these
+two lucky numbers were situated there was a deeper bevel than in any
+other part of the circle. I ascertained this both by sight and touch.
+There was no further doubt in my mind as to the character of Mr. Pelham,
+nor, indeed, as to the character of Grace. The wheel could not have been
+tampered with had they not been in collusion.
+
+Before we broke up, a little private conversation took place between the
+two men.
+
+Mr. Pelham put a question to Sydney, and Sydney replied,
+
+"Certainly. Give yourself no anxiety."
+
+Then he drew me aside, and asked me if I could let him have a hundred
+pounds.
+
+"It is for Grace," he said, "she is short of money; and so am I," he
+added with a laugh.
+
+I gave him the money, and we broke up for the night.
+
+Sydney and I walked home in company, excusing ourselves from the others.
+It was a fine night, and we lit our cigars, and walked on for a while in
+silence, which Sydney was the first to break.
+
+"I wanted your company badly," he said; "my mind is troubled."
+
+"I am your friend, Sydney," I said.
+
+He returned the pressure of my hand. "Thank you, Fred. My mind is
+troubled about Mr. Pelham. There is no reason why he should not win from
+me as easily as, with luck on my side, I might win from him. But I am
+not satisfied. It appears to me that the numbers he backed and won upon
+were the numbers he intended to back and win upon. If so, it denotes
+design. How does it strike you?"
+
+"With you as banker, I will back numbers 5 and 24," I replied, "and will
+undertake to win a fortune of you in an hour or two. Always supposing
+that the wheel is the same as it was to-night."
+
+"It struck me as strange," he said thoughtfully; "until to-night my
+suspicions have not been excited. Had any of you won my money, I should
+have thought less of it. You were trying the wheel as I turned it, after
+play was over. Confirm or destroy the impression on my mind."
+
+"I must confirm it. The numbers Mr. Pelham backed have been tampered
+with."
+
+"Are you certain?"
+
+"Most certain."
+
+He lit a fresh cigar, and threw away the old one.
+
+"These things are not done without human agency, Fred."
+
+"Indeed not. Very skilful hands have been at work upon that wheel. Were
+it not that I desire not to risk your friendship, Sydney, which I value
+highly, I should impart something to you concerning Mr. Pelham which has
+come to my knowledge."
+
+He did not reply for a few moments, and then he said, "We tremble on the
+brink sometimes, but it is only cowards who fly. How beautiful the night
+is, Fred! The world is very lovely--the stars to me are living things.
+Even now, when I seem to feel that Fate has something horrible in store
+for me, they whisper peace into my soul. Ah, friend of mine! that a
+man's hope, and heart, and holiest wish should be at the mercy of a
+rickster! It is sad and laughable. This flower in my coat was given to
+me by Grace; it is dead." He made a motion as if he would fling it from
+him, but he restrained himself, and crushing it in his hand, put it
+into his breast pocket. As I looked at him with loving pity, he put his
+handkerchief to his mouth, and drew it away, stained with blood.
+
+"Sydney!" I cried, in alarm.
+
+"It is nothing," he said; "I have been spitting blood for a long time
+past. Now tell me what has come to your knowledge respecting Mr. Pelham.
+Do not fear--you will not risk my friendship, upon which you place far
+too high a value."
+
+I said simply, "He is not Adolph's cousin."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"From Adolph himself; he and I have been speaking to each other in
+confidence."
+
+"What was the lad's motive in introducing Mr. Pelham to us with a
+falsehood?"
+
+"He did so by desire of Grace."
+
+"Then Grace must have been acquainted with Mr. Pelham."
+
+"It naturally follows, to the mind of one who does not wilfully blind
+himself to inexorable fact. Sydney, let us walk back in the direction of
+Grace's house. It is a whim of mine, and will do no harm."
+
+"It can do no good."
+
+"Sydney," I said impressively, "as surely as we are now walking side by
+side conversing on a theme which is bringing torture to your heart, so
+surely do I know what I dare not impart to you. Come, humour me."
+
+I turned him gently towards Grace's house, and we walked to the
+well-known spot. It was an hour since we parted from her, but there was
+no sign of repose in the house. The windows of the sitting-room were lit
+up from within, and I drew Sydney close enough to them to hear the sound
+of laughter--the laughter of a man and a woman.
+
+"For God's sake," said Sydney, "let us get away from this place!"
+
+He ran so swiftly from me towards the town that it was long before I
+came up to him, and then I found him with a deathly-white face, and a
+heart palpitating wildly from mental and physical exhaustion. I assisted
+him home, and we parted without exchanging another word on the subject.
+All that he said was,
+
+"To-morrow night I am to have my revenge. You will come to the
+cottage?"
+
+It was tacitly understood that the night was to be devoted to a gambling
+duel between Sydney and Mr. Pelham, and expectation was on every face.
+Grace looked bewitching, and exhibited more than usual tenderness
+towards Sydney, and he, on his part, was never more attentive and
+devoted in his conduct towards her than he was on this evening. He was a
+singularly handsome man, and the contrast between him and his opponent
+was very marked. Mr. Pelham, who was the last to arrive, was cool
+and collected enough, but he was inferior to Sydney in polish and
+gentlemanly bearing. The first hour was passed in badinage and lively
+conversation, and then roulette was proposed. Sydney laughingly shook
+his head.
+
+"Roulette will be too slow for Mr. Pelham and myself," he said. "We must
+have a more direct trial of skill. I propose, Mr. Pelham, a duel with
+the dice."
+
+"Dice be it," said Mr. Pelham, and the two men sat down to Hazard. They
+played low at first, but this was only to whet the appetite, and within
+an hour the stakes became higher than had ever been played for in that
+house. In the course of the play, Sydney said to his opponent,
+
+"I have promised to settle up with you in a few days, Mr. Pelham, should
+you rise a winner, and you may depend upon my keeping my word. Mr.
+Pelham, gentlemen, is called abroad, and I must not remain his debtor.
+Men of honour know what is due to each other; if I win from Mr. Pelham
+to-night I shall expect him to pay me. It seems as if good fortune were
+on my side."
+
+It really appeared to be so, and we all rejoiced. During a couple
+of hours' play Sydney had won from Mr. Pelham between six and seven
+thousand pounds. Both men were playing with coolness and judgment, but
+even when Mr. Pelham was the setter, good luck remained with Sydney.
+For a great part of these two hours Grace remained by the side of the
+players, and when she moved away Sydney called her back, saying that she
+gave him luck. By midnight Sydney had won back over fifteen thousand
+pounds, and then an adjournment for supper was called. All but Sydney
+and Mr. Pelham responded to the invitation; they were too deeply
+interested in their duel to rise from their table, and thus it happened
+that they were left for a time with no witness but Adolph, who said he
+could not eat. When we returned from the supper table they had changed
+their game. They were playing now with three dice, the highest throw for
+varying sums, from a hundred to a thousand pounds. Sydney's good luck
+appeared to have deserted him; he was now losing heavily. He cried out
+to us not to crowd round the table.
+
+"Do you think we are playing for life and death?" he exclaimed, with a
+wild laugh. "Come, Mr. Pelham, two thousand on this throw!"
+
+With glittering eyes and teeth firmly set, Mr. Pelham assented, and won.
+
+"Five thousand!" cried Sydney, and threw fourteen. "Ten to one in
+hundreds you do not beat it."
+
+"Done!" said Mr. Pelham, and threw sixteen.
+
+"You must be most unfortunate in your love affairs, Mr. Pelham," said
+Sydney. "How do we stand now?"
+
+Mr. Pelham passed over to his opponent a sheet of paper with figures on
+it.
+
+"Twenty-four thousand," cried Sydney. "Enough to set up a house in
+Belgravia. I am weary of this work. One throw for the last--double or
+quits. Your last chance, and mine. Done?"
+
+"Done!" said Mr. Pelham, with white lips.
+
+Every man in the room suspended his game, and rose to witness this mad
+play.
+
+"I protest!" said Sydney, turning almost savagely upon his friends. "Go
+to your tables, and concern yourself with your own counters. We can
+settle our affair without witnesses. Grace, a glass of champagne."
+
+He drank three glasses in succession, and said to Mr. Pelham, with only
+myself and Adolph standing by the small table,
+
+"This is a moment to remember. Fortune! be kind! I throw first.
+Fifteen! I am a free man. Now, Mr. Pelham."
+
+"Sixteen!" said Mr. Pelham, raising his box.
+
+The word had no sooner passed his lips than his wrist was seized with a
+grasp of iron by Sydney, and taking up this unrehearsed cue, I pinned
+the cheat to his chair. He uttered a cry of rage, but he could neither
+rise nor release his wrist from Sydney's hold. This incident brought all
+the players to their feet.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Sydney, calmly, "this man and I have been playing for
+something more than money, but it is simply a question of honour in
+which money is involved that I ask you to decide. Here are my dice, and
+here my throw. There are Mr. Pelham's dice, and there his throw. I call
+upon you to constitute yourselves a committee of honour, and examine the
+dice we each used in the last throw."
+
+They removed the dice, and discovered those used by Mr. Pelham to be
+loaded. It would have gone hard with him if Sydney had not interfered.
+
+"Hold!" he cried. "Fair play for rogue and gentleman! Release him,
+Fred." I released the blackleg, and he sat helpless in his chair,
+and glared at us. But he saw that his fate was in our hands, and he
+submitted. Sydney continued: "Mr. Pelham, these dice I have thrown with
+are fair dice, such as are used by gentlemen. My throw is fifteen. Take
+them, and throw against it. On my honour, if you beat my cast, I will
+endeavour to pay you what I owe you, despite the fact that the I O U's
+you hold of mine have been unfairly won."
+
+The blackleg took the box, and rattled the dice in it, gazing upon us
+with a ghastly smile, and then deliberately replaced the box on the
+table, mouth upwards.
+
+"What guarantee have I," he asked, "that in the event of my throwing
+higher than fifteen, these gentlemen friends of yours will not set upon
+me, and murder me?"
+
+"I answer for them," replied Sydney; "it is my honour that is
+concerned, not theirs, and they are, in some measure, guests in my
+house. You will be allowed to depart unmolested, and to-morrow I will
+receive you in my rooms, and endeavour to come to a settlement with
+you."
+
+"I take your word," said the blackleg, and he raised the box from the
+table, and rattled the dice again.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONTINUED).
+
+
+During the interval that elapsed between the acts of raising the box
+from the table and throwing out the dice, my observation was drawn to
+Grace. She stood at a little distance from the men, bending forward,
+her eyes fixed upon the box, her lips parted, her hands clasped, and a
+bright colour in her cheeks. She held her breath suspended, as it were,
+as though her fate hung upon the issue of the throw.
+
+The dice rolled out of the box, and three single black dots lay exposed.
+Mr. Pelham had lost. He had thrown three aces.
+
+He flung the box from him with a shocking oath. It struck a man in the
+face, and he stepped towards Mr. Pelham, with the evident intention of
+striking him in return, when Sydney interposed.
+
+"It was an accident," he said. "It is for me alone to settle this
+affair."
+
+Grace did not move, but her eyes were now fixed upon Sydney.
+
+"I owe you nothing in the shape of money," said Sydney to Mr. Pelham. "I
+will trouble you for my bits of paper."
+
+Mr. Pelham, with trembling fingers, opened his pocket-book. His
+agitation was very great, but I have never been able to decide whether
+it was by accident or design that he pulled out, with Sydney's I O U's,
+a number of letters and papers, and with them a photograph. It was a
+photograph of Grace. We all saw it, and I was not the only one who
+waited apprehensively for Sydney's next move.
+
+He took up the picture; there was writing on the back, which he read.
+There was breathless silence in the room. For a moment Sydney's eyes
+rested upon Grace. She smiled wistfully, as a child might smile who had
+been detected in a trifling fault. Sydney did not respond to her smile.
+He handed the picture back to Mr. Pelham without a word.
+
+Receiving his I O U's he burnt them, one by one, in the flame of a
+candle, calling out the sums, which two or three of the men pencilled
+down.
+
+"Is that all?" he demanded of Mr. Pelham, as the discomfited gambler
+paused.
+
+"That is all," replied Mr. Pelham.
+
+"Your sight or your memory is short," said Sydney. "I am not accounted
+an expert at figures, but you will find an I O U for three thousand,
+which you have overlooked. Ah! I was right, I see. You are but a clumsy
+scoundrel after all."
+
+"You shall answer to me for this," said Mr. Pelham, with an attempt at
+bravado.
+
+"I will consider," said Sydney, "whether it is necessary to chastise
+you. But not to-night, nor in this house. We must not forget that a lady
+is present."
+
+He bowed with exquisite politeness to Grace, and then addressed his
+friends.
+
+"I requested you," he said, "to constitute yourselves a committee of
+honour, to examine the dice this person used against me. I ask you
+now to examine the roulette wheel, and to say whether there is any
+indication that the numbers 5 and 24 have been tampered with."
+
+The wheel was examined, and my suspicions were confirmed. Upon the
+verdict being given, Sydney said,
+
+"The person to whom I lost fourteen thousand pounds last night upon
+number 24 must be accomplished in many ways; for it is only by breaking
+into the house when its inmates were asleep that he could so skilfully
+have dealt with the wheel for his own purpose. I cannot congratulate you
+upon your cousin, Adolph."
+
+The lad, with burning blushes, turned his face away, and Sydney,
+advancing courteously to Grace, offered her his hand. Wondering, and
+with a look of mingled apprehension and admiration, she placed her hand
+in his. He led her to Mr. Pelham's side.
+
+"I made a bitter mistake," he said to the blackleg. "I believed myself
+to be the possessor of a jewel to which I had no claim. I resign her;
+although I believe at this moment"--and here he looked her direct in the
+face--"that she would follow me, and prove false to you, if I invited
+her by a word. I withstand the temptation; I will not rob you of her."
+
+"Sydney!" cried Grace, holding out her hands to him.
+
+"Did I not tell you?" he asked of Mr. Pelham; and then, turning to
+Grace, he said, "Rest content. You have broken my heart. Either I was
+not worthy of you, or you were not worthy of me. It matters not, now
+that our eyes are opened. Mr. Pelham, I was guilty of an error to-night
+when I said you were unfortunate in your love affairs. Many men would
+envy you. Come, gentlemen, enough of this. The play is over; drop the
+curtain! Adolph, my lad, I am sorry for you, but it is the way of life."
+
+What followed was so bewildering and unexpected that I cannot clearly
+recall it. There was a sudden movement, some passionately tender words
+from Grace, some furious ones from Mr. Pelham. I cannot say whether
+there was a struggle; my only clear remembrance is that, after a lapse
+of a few moments, during which we were all in a state of inexplicable
+excitement and confusion, I saw Grace's arms round Sydney's neck, that
+Sydney, struggling to release himself, uttered a cry and slipped to the
+ground, with blood rushing from his mouth. He had broken a blood-vessel,
+and before a doctor arrived he was dead. He died in the presence of the
+woman who had betrayed him, and almost his last look was one of mingled
+horror and anguish as she leant over him in affright. Thus ended the
+life of my chivalrous, rash, and noble-hearted friend.
+
+Such an affair as this could not be hushed up. There were an inquiry
+and an inquest, but there was no room for suspicion of foul play. The
+medical evidence proved that Sydney died from the bursting of a blood
+vessel; but in my mind there was no shadow of a doubt that Grace was
+the indirect cause of his death. In my eyes she was a murderess.
+
+She disappeared from the place, and Mr. Pelham with her. I visited the
+cottage a fortnight after Sydney was buried. All the furniture had been
+removed, and the cottage was empty.
+
+The tragic termination of this ill-fated connection produced a great
+impression upon many of our set. For myself I can say that it made me
+more permanently serious in my thoughts; from that time I have never
+played for money.
+
+Before the occurrence of the events I have described my mother had died.
+Up to this time, and for a little while afterwards, my father and I
+had corresponded regularly, but I did not make him acquainted with the
+details of the story of Sydney's career. Incidentally, at the time of
+Sydney's death, I mentioned that I had lost a dear friend, and that was
+all my father knew of the affair.
+
+A break occurred in our correspondence--not on my part; on my father's.
+For three weeks or a month I did not hear from him, until I wrote and
+asked him if he was well. He replied in a very few words; he was quite
+well, he said, but he was engaged in affairs so momentous and engrossing
+that he could not find time to write at length. I surmised that he
+was speculating largely, and I wrote to him telling him not to harass
+himself by writing me long letters; all I wanted was to know that he was
+in good health. For three or four months I heard from him but rarely;
+then, one day came a letter with the astonishing intelligence that he
+had married again.
+
+"You will be surprised at the news," wrote my father, "but I feel you
+will rejoice when you know that this step, which I have taken almost in
+secret, will contribute to my happiness. Your second mother is a most
+charming young lady, and I am sure you will have a great affection
+for her. I shall presently ask you to come to London to make her
+acquaintance, when we can discuss another matter more important to
+yourself. It is time you commenced a career. Be assured of this--that
+my marriage will make no difference in your prospects."
+
+I had no just cause for anger or uneasiness in the circumstance of my
+father marrying again, but I was hurt at the secrecy of the proceeding.
+He spoke of his wife as "a charming young lady," and it was clear from
+the tone of his letter that his heart was engaged. My father possessed
+sterling qualities, but I could not help confessing to myself that he
+was scarcely the kind of man to win the love of a charming young lady.
+Who was she, and why had I not been informed of the engagement or
+invited to the wedding? My father stood in no fear of me; he was a man
+who stepped onward in his own path, and who had been all his life in
+the habit of judging and deciding for himself. Thinking of him alone
+I could find absolutely no reason why he should not have confided in
+me, but when my thoughts turned in the direction of the young lady an
+explanation presented itself. That it was not complimentary to her made
+me all the more anxious for my father. But upon deliberation I withheld
+my final judgment until I had seen my mother-in-law. The invitation to
+London arrived, and I waited first upon my father in his city office. He
+received me with abundant love; I had written him a letter, wishing him
+every happiness, and it had given him great gratification. He confessed
+to me that it was not in accordance with his desire that I had not been
+informed of the engagement. "It was a young lady's whim," he said, "and
+I was bound in gallantry to yield."
+
+"You are happy?" I asked, evading the point. The situation as between
+father and son was particularly awkward to him, and my wish was to set
+him as much as possible at his ease.
+
+"I am very happy," he replied. "Let me anticipate your questions, and
+give you some information about her. The young lady is poor and an
+orphan. Her name was Lydia Wilson. She was without family, without
+friends, and without money. I made her acquaintance accidentally a few
+months ago in the course of business, and was attracted to her. She was
+in a dependent and cruel position, and I made her an offer of marriage
+which she accepted. There is no need for us to go into further
+particulars. I thought much of you, and your manner of receiving the
+news of this unexpected step has delighted me. All that remains for you
+to do is to make the acquaintance of a lady who I feel is too young to
+be my wife, but who has done me infinite honour by assuming my name--who
+is too young to be a second mother to you, but whom you will find
+a charming and true friend. Numbers of persons will say that it is
+an imprudent step for a man of my age to marry a mere child; I must
+confess it is likely I should pass that judgment upon another man in
+my position; but I was unable to resist her, and I am happy in the
+assurance that, despite the disparity in our ages, she loves me.
+You will find in her, Frederick, a singular mixture of simplicity,
+shrewdness, and innocence. And now, my dear boy, we will go home to
+her; she is anxiously awaiting us."
+
+My father's wife was not visible when we reached home, and my father
+told me she was dressing, and would not come down till dinner was on the
+table.
+
+"I did not know," he said, "that friends were to dine with us to-night.
+I should have liked the three of us to spend the evening together, but
+there will be plenty of opportunities."
+
+We both retired to dress for dinner, and upon my re-entering the room
+the guests were arriving--fifteen or sixteen of them. They were all
+strangers to me, and as I was introduced to them by my father an
+uncomfortable impression forced itself upon me that they were not
+persons who moved in the first class. There were two foreign noblemen
+among them whose titles I doubted, and an American upon whose
+shirt-front was stamped Shoddy. Scarcely a moment before dinner was
+announced, my father's wife entered.
+
+"Frederick," said my father, "this is my wife. My dear, this is my son,
+of whom I have spoken so much."
+
+Then dinner was announced, and my father said:
+
+"Frederick, you will take in Mrs. Holdfast."
+
+What with the ceremonious bow with which my father's wife received me,
+and the bustle occasioned by the announcement of dinner, I had not time
+to look into the lady's face until her hand was on my arm. When I did
+look at her I uttered a smothered cry, for the woman I was escorting to
+dinner was no other than Grace, through whose abominable treachery my
+friend Sydney Campbell had met his death.
+
+The shock of the discovery was so overwhelming that I lost my
+self-possession. I felt as if the scene on that dreadful night were
+being enacted over again, and as we moved onwards to the dining-room I
+repeated the words uttered by Sydney to Grace, which had rang in my ears
+again and again, "Rest content. You have broken my heart. Either I was
+not worthy of you, or you were not worthy of me. The play is over; drop
+the curtain!"
+
+The voice of my father's wife recalled me to myself.
+
+"What strange words you are muttering!" she exclaimed, in a sweet voice.
+"Are they from a book you are writing? Mr. Holdfast tells me you are
+very clever, Frederick."
+
+"They are words spoken by a dear friend," I said, "at a tragic period in
+his life--a few moments, indeed, before he died."
+
+"How shocking," she said, "to think of them now when you and I meet for
+the first time! A dear friend of yours? You shall tell me all about it,
+Frederick. You do not mind my calling you Frederick, do you? I have been
+thinking for days, and days, and days, what I should call you. Not
+Mr. Holdfast--that is my husband; nor Master Frederick." She laughed
+heartily at this notion. "No, it shall be Frederick. And you musn't call
+me mother; that would be too ridiculous. Nor madam; that would be too
+distant. You must call me Lydia."
+
+"It is a pretty name," I said, summoning all my fortitude and composure;
+"is it your only one?"
+
+"Of course it is," she replied. "Is not one enough for such a little
+creature as me? I hope," she whispered, "you are not angry with me for
+marrying your father. I could not help it, indeed, indeed I could not!
+He loved me so much--better even than he loves you, I believe, and his
+nature is so great and noble that I would not for the world give him the
+slightest pain. He feels so deeply! I have found that out already, and
+he is ready to make any sacrifice for me. We are both very, very happy!"
+
+She had succeeded in making me more clearly understand the extraordinary
+difficulty of my position. Whether she did this designedly or not was
+not so clear, for every word she spoke might have been spoken by a
+simple innocent woman, or by a woman who was playing a double part. I
+could not discover whether she recognised me. She exhibited no sign of
+it. During the dinner she was in the highest spirits, and my father's
+eyes followed her in admiration. Knowing his character, and seeing how
+deeply he was enamoured of this false and fascinating woman, I trembled
+perhaps more than she did at the consequences of an exposure.
+
+But was it possible, after all, that I could be mistaken? Were there two
+women so marvellously alike in their features, in manner, in the colour
+of their hair and eyes, and could it have been my fate to meet them in
+positions so strange and close to me?
+
+I observed her with the closest attention. Not a word, not a tone, not a
+gesture, escaped me; and she, every now and then, apparently unconscious
+of what was in my mind, addressed me and drew me into conversation in
+the most artless manner. She demanded attention from me with the usual
+licence of beauty, and later on in the evening my father, linking his
+arm in mine, said,
+
+"My mind is relieved of a great anxiety. I am glad you like Lydia; she
+is delighted with you, and says she cannot look upon you with a mother's
+eyes. She will be your sister, she says, and the best friend you have in
+the world. Our home will once more be happy, as in your mother's days."
+
+I slept but little during the night, and the following day and for days
+afterwards devoted myself to the task of confirming or destroying the
+horrible suspicion which haunted me. I saw enough to convince me, but I
+would make assurance doubly sure, and I laid a trap for her. I had in
+my possession a photograph of Sydney, admirably executed and handsomely
+framed, and I determined to bring it before her notice suddenly, and
+when she supposed herself to be alone. Winter was drawing near, and the
+weather was chilly. There were fires in every room. We were to go to
+the theatre, she, my father, and I. Dressing quickly I went into our
+ordinary sitting-room, where a large fire was burning. I turned the
+gas low, placed the photograph on the table so that it was likely to
+attract observation, and threw myself into an arm chair in a corner
+of the room which was in deep shadow. I heard the woman's step upon
+the stairs, and presently she entered the room, and stood by the
+table, fastening a glove. While thus employed, her eyes fell upon the
+photograph. I could not see the expression on her face, but I saw her
+take the picture in her hand and look at it for a moment; then she
+stepped swiftly to the fireplace, and kneeling down, gazed intently at
+the photograph. For quite two minutes did she so kneel and gaze upon the
+picture, without stirring. I rose from my chair, and turned up the gas.
+She started to her feet, and confronted me; her face was white, her eyes
+were wild.
+
+"You are interested in that picture," I said; "you recognise it."
+
+The colour returned to her cheeks--it was as though she willed it--her
+eyes became calm.
+
+"How should I recognise it?" she asked, in a measured tone. "It is the
+face of a gentleman I have never seen."
+
+"It is the face of my friend, my dear friend, Sydney Campbell," I
+replied, sternly, "who was slain by a heartless, wicked woman. I have
+not told you his story yet, but perhaps you would scarcely care to hear
+it."
+
+Her quick ears had caught the sound of my father's footsteps. She went
+to the door, and drew him in with a caressing motion which brought a
+look of tenderness into his eyes. There was something of triumph in her
+voice--triumph intended only for my understanding--as she said to her
+husband,
+
+"Here is a picture of Frederick's dearest friend, who met with--O! such
+a dreadful death, through the heartlessness of a wicked woman! What did
+you say his name was, Frederick?"
+
+Forced to reply, I said, "Sydney Campbell."
+
+I saw that I had to do with a cunning and clever woman, and that all
+the powers of my mind would be needed to save my father from shame and
+dishonour. But I had no idea of the scheme my father's wife had devised
+for my discomfiture, and no suspicion of it crossed my mind even when
+my father said to me, in the course of the night,
+
+"Lydia is charmed with you, Frederick. She says no one in the world has
+ever been more attentive to her. She loves you with a sister's love. So
+all things have turned out happily."
+
+In this miserable way three weeks passed, without anything further being
+said, either by her or myself, upon what was uppermost in our minds.
+Convinced that she was thoroughly on her guard against me, and convinced
+also of the necessity of my obtaining some kind of evidence before I
+could broach the subject to my father, I employed a private detective,
+who, at the end of these three weeks had something to report. The woman,
+it appears, went out shopping, and as nearly as I can remember I will
+write the detective's words:
+
+"The lady did not go in her carriage. She took a hansom, and drove from
+one shop to another, first to Regent Street, then to Bayswater, then to
+the Elephant and Castle. A round-about drive, but I did not lose sight
+of her. At the Elephant and Castle she went into Tarn's, paying the
+cabman, who drove off. I have his number and the number of every cab the
+lady engaged. When she came out of Tarn's, she looked about her, and
+went into a confectioner's shop near at hand, where there were tables
+for ladies to sit at. There was nothing in that--she must have been
+pretty tired by that time. Lemonade and cakes were brought to her, and
+she made short work of them. There was nothing in that--the lady has a
+sweet tooth; most ladies have; but I fancied that she looked up at the
+clock once or twice, a little impatiently. She finished her cakes, and
+called for more, and before she had time to get through the second
+plateful, a man entered the shop, and in a careless way took his seat
+at the same table. As I walked up and down past the window--for it
+wouldn't have done for me to have stood still staring through it all
+the time--I saw them talking together, friendly like. There was nothing
+out-of-the-way in their manner; they were talking quietly, as friends
+talk. After about a quarter-of-an-hour of this, the man shook hands with
+her, and came out of the shop. Then, a minute or two afterwards, the
+lady came out of the shop. She walked about a hundred yards, called a
+cab, drove to a jeweller's shop in Piccadilly, discharged the cab, came
+out of the jeweller's shop, took another cab, and drove home. Perhaps
+you can make something out of it. I can't."
+
+"Is there nothing strange," I asked, "in a lady going into a
+confectioner's shop at such a distance from home, and there meeting a
+gentleman, with whom she remains conversing for a quarter of an hour?"
+
+"There's nothing strange in it to me," replied the detective. "You don't
+know the goings-on of women, sir, nor the artfulness of them. Many a
+lady will do more than that, just for the purpose of a harmless bit of
+flirtation; and they like it all the better because of the secresy and
+the spice of danger. No, sir, I don't see anything in it."
+
+"Describe the man to me," I said.
+
+He did so, and in the description he gave I recognised the scoundrel,
+Mr. Pelham. Even now this shameful woman, married to my father, was
+carrying on an intrigue with her infamous lover. There was no time to
+lose. I must strike at once.
+
+My first business was with the woman. If I could prevail upon her
+to take the initiative, and leave my father quietly without an open
+scandal--if I could induce her to set a price upon her absence from the
+country, I had no doubt that I could secure to her a sufficient sum to
+enable her to live in comfort, even in affluence, out of England. Then I
+would trust to time to heal my father's wounds. It was a cruel blow for
+a son to inflict upon his father, but it was not to be borne that the
+matter should be allowed to continue in its present shape. Not only
+shame and dishonour, but other evils might spring from it.
+
+Within a few hours I struck the first blow. I asked her for an
+interview. She called me into her boudoir. I should have preferred a
+more open room, but she sent word by a maid as treacherous as herself,
+whom she doubtless paid well, that if I wished to speak to her on that
+day it must be where she wished. I presented myself, and closed the door
+behind me.
+
+"Really!" she said, with her sweetest smile. "This is to be a very, very
+private conversation! Hand me my smelling bottle, Frederick. Not that
+one; the diamond and the turquoise one your father gave me yesterday.
+There are no bounds to my husband's generosity."
+
+"It is a pity," I said, "that such a nature as his should be trifled
+with."
+
+"It would be a thousand pities!" she replied. "Who would be so unkind!
+Not you, I am sure; your heart is too tender; you are too fond of your
+father. As for me, he knows my feelings for him. He is husband, friend,
+and father, all in one, to me. His exact words, I assure you. Trifle
+with such a man! No, indeed; it would be too cruel! Come and sit here,
+by my side, Frederick. If you refuse, I declare I will ring for my maid,
+and will not speak to you--no, not another word! Now you are good;
+but you look too serious. I hate serious people. I love pleasure and
+excitement. That is because I am young and not bad looking. What do you
+think? You can't say I am ugly. But perhaps you have no eyes for me;
+your heart is elsewhere--in that locket on your chain. I must positively
+see the picture it contains. No? I must, indeed!--and then I will be
+quiet, and you shall talk. You have no idea what an obstinate little
+creature I am when I get an idea into my head, and if you don't let me
+see the inside of that locket, I shall ring for my maid. Thank you. Now
+you _are_ good! It is empty, I declare. It is a pretty locket. You have
+good taste."
+
+There was no picture in the locket; it was worn on my chain from
+harmless vanity. I had disengaged it from the chain, and she held it in
+her hand. Suddenly she turned her face close to mine, and said, in the
+same languid tone, but with a certain meaning in it,
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Grace," I said, "shall I relate to you the story of Sydney Campbell?"
+
+The directness of my attack frightened her. Her hands, her lips, her
+whole body trembled; tears filled her eyes, and she looked at me so
+piteously that for a moment I doubted whether I was not sitting by the
+side of a helpless child instead of a heartless, cruel, wicked woman.
+
+"For shame, to take advantage of a defenceless girl! You don't know the
+true story--you don't, you don't! What have you seen me do that you come
+here, because I happen to have married your father, to threaten and
+frighten me? What can you say against me? That I have been unfortunate.
+O, Frederick, you don't know how unfortunate! You don't know how I have
+been treated, and how I have suffered! Have you no pity? Even if I
+have committed an error through ignorance, should I not be allowed an
+opportunity to reform? Am I to be utterly abandoned--utterly lost? And
+are you going to crush me, and send me wandering through the world
+again, with no one to love or sympathise with me? That portrait of mine
+which was in Mr. Pelham's pocket-book, and which Sydney saw, was stolen
+from me, and what was written on the back was forged writing. If a man
+loves me, can I help it? It is nothing to do with me whether he is a
+gentleman or a blackguard. Pelham loved me, and he was a cheat. Was that
+my fault? Have pity, have pity, and do not expose me!"
+
+She had fallen on her knees, and had grasped my hands, which I could
+not release from her grasp, and as she poured out her piteous appeal I
+declare I could not then tell whether it was genuine or false. I knew
+that, if this woman were acting, there is no actress on our stage who
+could excel her. What a danger was here! Acting thus before me, who was
+armed against her, how would she act in the presence of my father, who
+had given her his heart? But soon after she had ceased to speak, my
+calmer sense returned to me, and I seized the point it was necessary to
+drive home.
+
+"You ask me," I said, "what I can say against you? I can say this.
+Two days before Sydney died in your house, I was witness to a secret
+meeting between you and your lover, Mr. Pelham. I can repeat, word for
+word, certain remarks made by you and by him which leave no doubt as to
+the tie which bound you together. You liked a man with a spice of the
+devil in him--my poor friend Sydney was too tame a lover for you. Do you
+not remember those words?"
+
+"You listened," she exclaimed, scornfully, "and you call yourself a
+gentleman!"
+
+"I do not seek to save myself from your reproaches. The knowledge
+was forced upon me, and I could neither advance nor retire without
+discovering myself, and so affording a scoundrel an opportunity of
+escape. At that time Sydney was indebted to Mr. Pelham a large sum of
+money, whether fairly won or not."
+
+"You did not tell Sydney?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
+
+"I did. More than that. The night before his death he and I, after
+leaving you, returned to your cottage and saw the lights, and heard Mr.
+Pelham's laugh and yours. Do you know why I tell you these things? It
+is to convince you that you cannot hope to destroy the evidence it is in
+my power to bring against you. I should have been content never to have
+met you again after the death of my friend; I hoped that we had seen the
+last of each other. But you have forced yourself into this house--you
+have ensnared my father--and if you remain you will bring upon him a
+more terrible shock than now awaits him in the discharge of my duty."
+
+"You are a clever enemy," she said; "so strong and relentless, and
+determined! How can I hope to contend with you? Yet I believe I could
+do so successfully, if you have told me all you know against me. You
+overheard a conversation between me and Pelham--what of that? You have
+no witnesses. But will you not give me a chance? If, when you first met
+me, I was led into error by a scoundrel, who was exposed and disgraced
+in your presence, shall I be allowed no loophole through which I can
+creep into a better kind of life? It is the way men treat women, but
+I might expect something better from you. You cannot unmake me your
+father's wife. I am that, in spite of you or a thousand sons. Why not
+let things remain as they are--why should not you and I be friends,
+only outwardly, if you like, to save your father from pain? Let it be
+a bargain between us--for his sake?"
+
+She held out her hand to me; I did not touch it.
+
+"Pain my father must bear," I said; "but I will endeavour to save him
+from a deep disgrace."
+
+"I am not disgracing him now!" she cried. "Indeed, indeed I am not!"
+
+I tried to what depths the nature of this woman would descend.
+
+"When did you see Mr. Pelham last?" I asked.
+
+"I have not seen him for months--for many, many months! He has left the
+country, never to return. I hope he is dead--with all my heart I hope he
+is dead! He is the cause of all my misery. I told him so, and refused
+ever to see him again. He was in despair, and he left me for ever. I
+prayed with thankfulness--on my knees I prayed--when he said good-bye!
+He is thousands of miles away."
+
+I gazed at her steadily. "It is not true," I said; "you met him by
+appointment this very morning."
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONTINUED).
+
+
+All the colour died out of her face, and I saw that I had frightened
+her.
+
+"How do you know?" she asked, in a faint tone.
+
+"That is my secret," I replied. "It should be sufficient for you that I
+do know, and that I have evidence at hand for a full exposure of your
+proceedings."
+
+"Your own evidence will not be strong enough," she said. "Hating me as
+you do, you can invent any wicked story you please--it does not require
+a very clever man to do things of that kind. It has been done over
+and over again, and the question then is, whose word has the greatest
+influence? My husband will take my word against yours; I promise you
+that."
+
+"I am aware of the power you have over him, and I am prepared."
+
+"In what way are you prepared?"
+
+"Shall I tell you how many cabs you took this morning, and their
+numbers?"
+
+"You cannot do it."
+
+"I can; and I can tell you, moreover, where you engaged and where you
+discharged them; and what shops you went to and how long you were in
+each. When I relate your wretched story to my father I shall be able to
+verify every detail of the accusation I shall bring against you."
+
+"You have had me watched!" she cried.
+
+"It was necessary. You are a clever woman." (Even in this terrible
+crisis of her fate, the vanity of this creature, unparalleled in
+wickedness, asserted itself, and an expression of gratification passed
+into her face as I called her a clever woman.) "My father's nature in
+some respects resembles Sydney's, and especially in its loyalty to love
+and friendship. Upon Sydney no impression could be made against any
+person in whom he had confidence, unless the most distinct proof could
+be produced--the evidence of his own senses or of witnesses upon whom he
+could implicitly rely. So would it be with my father. On my honour, you
+can no longer live in this house. I cannot permit you for another day to
+impose upon a gentleman whom I love and honour."
+
+She gazed at me in admiration. "How beautifully you speak! Your words
+are like knives--they cut into my heart. You have brought my guilt home
+to me, O, how clearly! Yes, I _am_ guilty! I confess it! I yield; I
+cannot struggle with such a skilful enemy as you. O, if you knew what
+relief you have given me! I was so weary! I am glad you were not weak--I
+am glad you had no pity upon me. I am sick of the deception I have been
+compelled--yes, compelled!--to practice against a good man. And he is
+not the only one--there have been others, miserable woman that I am. O,
+what an unhappy weary life mine has been! I have been driven and driven
+by a villain who has preyed upon me since I was a child. Ah, if you knew
+the whole truth, if I could lay bare my heart, you would not utterly
+condemn me! You would say, 'Poor child! she has been more sinned against
+than sinning!' Are not those the words used to persons who have been
+innocently led into error? And they are true of me! If I have sinned I
+have been driven to it, and I have been sinned against--indeed, indeed I
+have! But I don't want to turn you in my favour. You must do your duty,
+and I must meet my punishment, now that everything is discovered. It
+might have been different with me if it had been my happiness to meet
+a man like you when I was young. I am young still--I look it, don't I?
+and it makes me feel all the more wicked. But I feel a hundred years
+old--quite a hundred--and O, so tired and worn out! I could have looked
+up to you, I could have respected you, and you would have taught me what
+was right and what was wrong. But it was not to be--and it is too late
+now, is it not? Yes, I see in your face that it is too late. What are
+you going to do with me? You will not be too, too cruel? I am wicked, I
+feel--you have made me feel it, and I am so thankful to you! but unless
+I make away with myself (and I am afraid to do that; I should be afraid
+to die)--unless I did that, which I should never have the courage to do,
+I shall live a good many years yet. My fate is in your hands. What are
+you going to do with me?"
+
+I did not attempt to interrupt her, nor to stem her singularly-worded
+appeal. "Your fate," I said, "is in your own hands, not in mine. I can
+show you how you can avoid an open exposure, and secure for yourself an
+income sufficiently large to live in comfort all your life."
+
+"Can you?" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "O, how good you are!"
+
+"The line of action," I said, "I advise you to adopt is the best for all
+parties implicated in this miserable business, and is the most merciful
+both to you and my father."
+
+She interrupted me with, "Never, never, shall I be able to repay you. It
+is almost as if you were a lawyer looking after my interests, and as if
+I were one of your favourite clients. You cannot hate me, after all, or
+you would never advise me as you are doing. What line of action--how
+beautifully you express yourself; such language only comes to the good
+and clever--what line of action do you advise me to adopt?"
+
+"First, I must ask you, as between ourselves, to enlighten me as to
+Mr. Pelham. I know that you are still keeping up an intimacy with your
+infamous lover, but I must have it from your own lips."
+
+"So that you may not have cause to reproach yourself afterwards, if you
+should happen to find out that I am not so bad as you believe me to be!
+Yes, I will confess; I will not attempt to deceive you. He still holds
+his power over me, but you are not entirely right in the way you put it.
+You _are_ in calling him infamous, but you are wrong when you call him
+my lover. I am not so bad as that; but I cannot escape from him. Why,"
+she said, and her voice sank to a whisper, "do you know that I have
+to supply him with money, that he lives upon me, and that he has so
+entangled and deceived me that I should laugh if I were to see him lying
+dead at my feet!"
+
+"What I require of you is this," I said, not attempting to follow her
+into the currents to which her strange utterances would lead me. "You
+will write down a full confession of all matters relating to yourself
+which affect the honour of my father. The confession must be full and
+complete, and you will place it in my hands, and leave the house, and
+within a week afterwards you will leave the country. You will pledge
+yourself never to set foot again in England, and never to attempt to
+see or speak with my father. In return I will secure to you an income
+which shall be paid to you regularly, so long as you do not break the
+conditions of the contract."
+
+"How hard!" she said, plaintively. "I am so fond of England! There is
+no other country in the world worth living in. And I have grown so
+attached to this house! I am so happy here, so very, very happy! I must
+think a little--you will not mind, will you? And you will forgive me if
+I say anything wrong! Even if there was what you call an open exposure,
+and your father were to believe every word you speak against me, I am
+still his wife, and he would be compelled to make me an allowance. Then
+I could live where I please. These things come to my mind, I suppose,
+because I have not a soul in the world to help me--not a soul, not a
+friend! Do you not see that I am speaking reasonably?"
+
+"I am not so sure," I said. "Were the affair made public, my father
+would adopt his own course. He can be stern as well as tender, and were
+his name dragged into the mud because of his connection with you, it is
+most likely he would institute an inquiry which might bring to light
+circumstances which you would rather should be hidden both from his
+knowledge and from the knowledge of the world. You know best about that;
+I am not so shallow-witted as to suppose that I am acquainted with all
+the particulars of your career; but I am on the track, and the task of
+discovery would not be difficult."
+
+"You are pitiless!" she cried. "Sydney Campbell would never have spoken
+to me as you are speaking."
+
+"His nature was different from mine, but he was jealous of his honour,
+too. I wish to make the position very clear to you. Even were nothing
+worse than what is already known to be discovered against you, and my
+father consented to make you an allowance--of which I am not at all
+sure--it would not be as large as that I am prepared to secure to you.
+That aspect of the matter is worth your consideration."
+
+"How much a year do you propose?" she asked, after a slight pause.
+
+"Not less than a thousand a year. I will undertake that my father shall
+make you that, or even a larger allowance, upon the conditions I have
+stated."
+
+"In my confession am I to relate _all_ that passed between Sydney
+Campbell and myself? You think I did not love him. You are mistaken. I
+loved him deeply, and had he lived he would soon have been at my feet
+again."
+
+"You are to omit nothing," I said; "my father must know all."
+
+She looked at me so piteously that for a moment a doubt intruded itself
+whether there might not be circumstances in her history with which I
+was unacquainted which, instead of more strongly condemning her, might
+entitle her to compassion; but too stern a duty was before me to allow
+the doubt to remain.
+
+"You will give me a few hours to decide," she implored. "The shock is so
+sudden! I am at your mercy. Grant me a few hours' respite! You will not,
+you cannot refuse!"
+
+I had no intention of refusing, but as if overcome by her feelings, she
+seized my hands and pressed them to her lips and her eyes, which were
+wet with tears. I was endeavouring to release myself when the door
+opened, and her maid appeared.
+
+"What do you want--what do you want?" cried my father's wife, as she
+flung herself from me. "How dare you come in without knocking!"
+
+"I knocked, madam," replied the maid, "but you could not have heard. I
+thought you rang."
+
+"I did not ring. Leave the room."
+
+The maid retired, and we were once more alone.
+
+"I will give you to till to-morrow," I said, "and then there must be an
+end to this deception."
+
+"There shall be--there shall be!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how I thank you!
+But I will not wait till to-morrow. No--the sooner the blow is struck,
+the sooner my sufferings will be over. Your father is engaged out this
+evening. He will not be home till eleven or twelve. At ten I will tell
+you how I have decided--perhaps by that time I may have commenced my
+confession. It is just--I see how just it is--that your father shall not
+remain another night in ignorance."
+
+"As you please," I said; "at ten to-night. Where shall I see you?"
+
+"Here," she replied. "I shall not be able to come down stairs. My
+strength is quite, quite gone."
+
+So it was decided, and I left her. I did not see my father during the
+day, and at ten o'clock I presented myself at her door, and knocked.
+There was no answer, and observing that the door was partly open I
+gently pushed it, and entered the room. My father's wife was sitting
+with her back to me, reading. As she did not appear to be aware of my
+presence, I called to her. She started to her feet, and turned to me.
+Then I saw, to my surprise, that her hair was hanging down, that her
+slippered feet were bare, and that she wore a loose dressing gown.
+
+"My God!" she screamed. "Why do you come to my room at such an hour
+in this unexpected manner?" And as she spoke she pulled the bell
+violently.
+
+Failing to understand the meaning of her words, I stammered something
+about an appointment, at which she laughed, then burst into tears,
+crying,
+
+"Spare me, oh spare me, and your father from the shame! Confess that you
+have spoken under the influence of a horrible dream!"
+
+What other words she uttered I do not clearly remember; they referred
+vaguely to the proposition I had made to her, and in the midst of a
+passionate speech her maid entered the room. She ran to the maid,
+exclaiming,
+
+"Thank God you have come!" And then to me, "Leave the room instantly,
+and never let me look upon your face again! From my lips, this very
+night, shall your father hear an account of all that has passed between
+you and me!"
+
+The maid stood between me and her mistress, and I deemed it prudent
+to take my departure. I passed a sleepless night, thinking of the
+inexplicable conduct of this woman and of the shock the discovery of her
+infamy would be to my father. I longed to be with him to console him and
+comfort him, and I waited impatiently for daylight. At eight o'clock in
+the morning I jumped from bed, glad that the weary night was over, and
+as I began to dress, I heard a tap at the door. I asked who was there,
+and was answered by a servant, who said that my father desired me to go
+to him in his study the moment I awoke. I sent word that I would come
+immediately, and dressing hastily I went to his room.
+
+He was standing, with a sterner look upon his face than I had ever seen.
+He was pale and haggard, and it was evident that his night had been as
+sleepless as mine. I was advancing to him with a feeling of pity and
+sympathy, when he said,
+
+"Stand where you are. Do not move another step towards me."
+
+We stood, gazing upon each other in silence for a minute or two. Then I
+said,
+
+"You have not slept, sir."
+
+"I have not slept. When I left Mrs. Holdfast last night, I came to my
+study, and have been here all the night, waiting for daylight--and you."
+
+"You have heard bad news, sir," I said.
+
+"I have heard what I would have given my fortune and my life had never
+been spoken. It is incredible that one whom I loved should bring
+dishonour upon my name and shame into my house!"
+
+Here I must pause for a moment or two. When I commenced this statement
+I had no idea that it would stretch out to its present length, and so
+anxious am I that it should reach you as early as possible that I will
+shorten the description of what remains to be told. Prepare to be
+shocked and amazed--as I myself was shocked and amazed at the revelation
+made to me that morning in my father's study, on that last morning I
+ever spent in his house. You think you know the character of this woman
+who plays with men's lives and honour as though they were toys to amuse
+an idle hour. You do not yet comprehend the depths of infamy to which
+such a nature as hers can descend. Nor did I until I left my father's
+house, never to return.
+
+She had, as she declared she would, made a confession to my father
+during the night; it was not a confession of her own shameful life, but
+an invention so horrible as almost, at the time I heard it, to deprive
+me of the power of speech. She accused me of playing the lover to
+her; she described me as a profligate of the vilest kind. She made my
+father believe that from the moment I saw her I filled her ears with
+protestations and proposals which I should be ashamed to repeat to one
+as pure and innocent as yourself. Day after day, hour after hour, she
+had followed out the plan she had devised to shut me from my father's
+heart and deprive me of his love, and so skilfully and artfully were all
+the details guided by her wicked mind that, presented as they were to
+my father with tears, and sobs, and tremblings, he could scarcely avoid
+believing in their truth. Twice on the previous day--so her story
+ran--had I forced myself into her private room; once in the morning
+when my father was in his city office, and again in the night when she
+was about to retire to rest, and when I knew that my father was not in
+the house. Unfortunately, as she said, for she would have preferred
+that a scandal so shameful should have no chance of becoming public,
+her maid entered the room on both occasions, and witnessed portions of
+the scenes. In the morning, when her maid intruded herself, she had
+dismissed her, and thereafter implored me to leave her in peace. In the
+evening I was so violent that she had to seek protection from her maid.
+She called the maid, who corroborated her in every particular; and she
+produced other evidence against me in the shape of the locket I had worn
+on my chain. When she handed this locket to my father it contained a
+portrait of myself--a small head carefully cut from a photograph--and
+she declared that I had forced the likeness upon her, and had insisted
+upon her wearing it. She said that she had endeavoured by every means in
+her power to wean me from my guilty passion; that a dozen times she had
+been on the point of exposing me to her husband, but had always been
+prevented by a feeling of tenderness for him and by a hope, which grew
+fainter and fainter every day, that I might awake from my folly; that
+no woman had ever been subjected to such cruel persecution and had ever
+suffered so much as she had; and that, at length, unable to keep the
+horrible secret to herself, she had resolved to impart it to her
+husband, and throw herself upon his protection.
+
+Nor was this all. I had threatened, if she would not receive me as her
+lover, that I would bring the most shameful charges against her, and by
+the aid of bribed assistants, whom I should call as witnesses, blast her
+reputation and ruin her happiness. The very words I had used to her in
+our interview on the previous day were repeated to me by my father,
+so artfully twisted as to render them powerless against herself and
+conclusive against me.
+
+From this brief description you will be able to form some idea of the
+position in which I was placed during this interview with my father. I
+was allowed no opportunity of defence. My father's wife had contrived to
+rouse to its utmost pitch the chivalry of his nature in her behalf. I
+doubt whether my father at that time would have received any evidence,
+however conclusive, against her, and whether, in the peculiar frame of
+mind into which she had worked him he would not have accepted every
+proof of her guilt as proof of her virtue.
+
+His recital of his wife's wrongs being at an end, he addressed himself
+to me in terms so violent, so unfatherly, so unjust, that I lost my
+self-command. Such a scene as followed is rare, I hope, between father
+and son. He discarded me; he swore he would never look upon me as a son;
+would never think of me; would never receive me. He forbade me ever to
+address or refer to him; he banished me from his house and his heart; he
+flung money at me, as he would have done at a beggar; he was in every
+way so insulting that my feelings as a man overcame my duty as a son;
+and we used such words to each other as men can scarcely ever forget
+or forgive. To such extremes and opposites can a false woman drive men
+ordinarily just, and kind, and temperate.
+
+The scene ended thus. I repudiated my father as he repudiated me; I
+trampled his money under my feet; I told him that he would one day awake
+from his dream; and I swore that never, until he asked my forgiveness,
+would I use or acknowledge the name of Holdfast, which he, and not I,
+was dishonouring. He held me to my oath; in a fit of fury he produced a
+Bible, and bade me repeat it. I did so solemnly, and I kissed the sacred
+Book. He threw the door open wide, and pointed sternly.
+
+"Go," he said. "I turn you from my house. You and I have done with each
+other for ever."
+
+I went in silence, and as the sound of the shutting of the street door
+fell upon my ears, I felt as if I had cut myself from myself. I walked
+into the streets a forlorn and lonely man, with no name, no past, no
+friend. I did not meet any person who knew me; I called a cab, and
+drove to a remote part of London, where I hired a room in a common
+lodging-house. But I had not been there an hour before I discovered
+myself to be a mark for observation. My clothes, perhaps my manner,
+betrayed me. I left the house, and strolled into a railway station. I
+could not feel myself safe until I was in a place where I was utterly
+unknown and entirely free. Standing before a railway time-bill, the
+first name that attracted me was Exeter. The train was to start in
+half-an-hour, and I bought my ticket. Thus it was that, by a mere
+accident, I journeyed to the town in which I was to meet and love you.
+On my way I decided upon the name I would assume. Frederick was common
+enough, and I retained it; I added to it the name of Maitland. On
+my way, also, I reviewed my circumstances, and decided upon my plan
+of action. I had in money, saved from my father's liberal allowance
+while I was at Oxford, nearly four hundred pounds. Business I did not
+understand, and was not fit for. I was competent to undertake the duties
+of a tutor. I determined to look out for such a situation, either in
+England or abroad, but on no account in any family likely to reside
+in London or Oxford. In Exeter I employed myself, for a few weeks,
+in writing for the press. I obtained introduction to a gentleman who
+occupied the position of editor of a small local newspaper, and him I
+assisted. I did not ask for pay, nor did I receive any. I was glad of
+any occupation to distract my thoughts. Through this friend I heard of
+a situation likely to suit me. A gentleman wanted a tutor for his son,
+whose ill-health compelled him to be much at home. I applied for the
+situation, and obtained it. In that family you were also employed, as
+music teacher, and thus you and I became acquainted.
+
+With the gentleman who employed me, or with his family, I could not
+become familiar; there was nothing in common between us. With you it
+was different; I was interested in you, and soon learned that you lived
+with a sick mother, of whom you were the sole support, and that you
+were a lady. There is no need for me to dwell upon the commencement and
+continuation of a friendship, which began in respect and mutual esteem,
+and ended in love. You were poor; I was comparatively rich; and I am
+afraid my dear, that during the first few weeks I led you to believe
+that my circumstances were better than they really were. That is the
+usual effect produced by an extravagant nature. I paid court to you, and
+we engaged ourselves to each other. Then I began to take a more serious
+view of life. I had a dear one to work for; there was no prospect open
+to me in England; and the mystery in which I was compelled to shroud
+myself, coupled with the fact that London and other places in my native
+country were closed to me, caused me to turn my thoughts to America.
+In that new land I could make a home for you; in that new land, with
+but moderate good fortune, we might settle and live a happy life. Your
+mother and yourself were contented with the plan, and encouraged me
+in it. So I threw up my situation, bade you good-bye, and left for
+the wonderful country which one day is to rule the world. Before my
+departure I wrote to my father. Except upon the envelope I did not
+address him by his name. I simply told him that I was quitting England,
+that I had kept and would keep my oath, and that if he desired to write
+to me at any time he could send his letter to the New York Post Office.
+
+You are acquainted with the worldly result of my visit to America; you
+know that I was not successful. Unable to obtain profitable employment
+in New York, I went to Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, and some
+smaller towns and cities. It was my misfortune that I could not quickly
+assimilate myself with the new ways and modes of American life, and my
+ill-luck sprang more from myself than from the land in which I wished
+to establish myself. I was absent from New York for nearly five months.
+In despair I returned to it, and my first visit was paid to the
+General Post Office. Your letters were sent to me from time to time in
+accordance with the directions I gave you when I wrote to you, and were
+sent to the name of Frederick Maitland. It was almost with an air of
+guilt that I inquired at the New York Post Office whether there were any
+letters for Frederick Holdfast. I had no expectation of receiving any,
+and I was therefore astonished when three were handed to me. They were
+in the handwriting of my father. I did not tell you at the time, but it
+is a fact that I was in a desperate condition. My clothes were shabby,
+my pockets were empty. My joy and agitation at the receipt of these
+three letters were very great. I had never ceased to love my father, and
+tears rushed to my eyes at the sight of his handwriting. I knew, which
+he did not at the time we parted, that we were both the victims of
+a clever, scheming, beautiful woman. Would these letters lead to a
+reconciliation? I tore them open. They bore one address, an hotel in
+New York. Then my father was in America! The last letter, however,
+was dated two months back. Quickly I made myself acquainted with the
+contents.
+
+They were all written in the same strain. My father had come to America
+to see me. The refrain was as follows: "I am distressed and unhappy.
+Come to me at once." What had happened? Had he discovered the treachery
+of the woman who had parted us, and was anxious for a reconciliation
+with me? Yes, surely the latter; I could not mistake the tone of his
+communications, although they commenced with "My son," instead of "My
+dear Son." Explanations between us were necessary, and then all would be
+right. Eagerly I sought the hotel from which the letters were addressed,
+and easily found it. I inquired for Mr. Holdfast; he was not in the
+hotel; his name was known, and the books were consulted. He had left the
+hotel six weeks before. "Has he gone to another hotel?" I asked. The
+manager replied that Mr. Holdfast had informed him that while he was
+in New York he should stop at no other hotel. "He seemed," said the
+manager, "to be anxiously expecting a friend who never came, for he was
+very particular in obtaining a description of every gentleman who called
+during his absence. He is not in New York at present, you may be sure of
+that." I asked if it were likely I could obtain information of him at
+any other place in the city, but the hotel manager could not give me an
+address at which I could make an inquiry. Disheartened I turned away,
+and wandered disconsolately through the city. I sauntered through
+Broadway, in the direction of the City Hall and Wall Street, and paused
+before the _Herald_ Office, outside of which a copy of the paper
+was posted. I ran my eye down the columns, and lingered over the
+"Personals," in the vague hope that I should see my name there. I
+did not see my name, but a mist came into my eyes, and my heart beat
+violently as I saw an advertisement to which the initials F. H. were
+attached. F. H.--Frederick Holdfast. My own name! The advertisement was
+for me, and read thus: "F. H.--Follow me immediately to Chicago. Inquire
+at the Brigg's House." From that advertisement I inferred that my father
+was in Chicago, and that, if I could start for that city at once, I
+should meet him. But my pockets, as I have said, were empty. Between
+twenty and thirty dollars were required to carry me to Chicago, which I
+could reach in thirty-six hours. I had no money, but I had a souvenir
+of Sydney's, a ring which he gave me in our happy days, and which I had
+inwardly vowed never to part with. However, there was no help for it
+now; it must go. I should be able to redeem it by-and-bye; so I pawned
+it for thirty dollars, and took the night train to Chicago. How happy I
+was! Not only the coming reconciliation with my father, but, after that,
+the certainty of being able to provide a home for you, cheered my heart.
+Then I could assume my own name; my father would speak the words which
+would remove from my conscience the obligation of the sacred oath I had
+sworn. I scarcely slept or ate on the weary journey, my impatience was
+so great. But long before we reached the end of our journey we were
+appalled by news of a dreadful nature. Chicago was in flames. At every
+stage the intelligence became more alarming. The flames were spreading,
+not from house to house, but from street to street; the entire city was
+on fire. And the Brigg's House and my father? God forgive me! So selfish
+are we in our troubles and in our joys, that I thought of no other house
+but the Brigg's House, of no other human being but my father. The news
+travelled so fast towards us, as we travelled towards the conflagration,
+that I soon learned that the street in which Brigg's House was situated
+had caught, and that every building in it was burnt to the ground. "Any
+lives lost?" "Thousands!" An exaggeration, as we afterwards found,
+but we did not stop to doubt; instead of lessening the extent of the
+calamity, our fears exaggerated it. O, how I prayed and prayed! It was
+a dreadful time, and it was almost a relief when the evidence of our
+own senses was enlisted in confirmation of the news. The skies in the
+distance were lurid red, and imagination added to the terror of the
+knowledge that families were being ruined, hopes destroyed, ambitions
+blasted, and hearts tortured in the flames reflected in the clouds. Our
+train stopped, and miles of fire lay within our sight.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONCLUDED).
+
+
+Under these circumstances the obstacles before me became almost
+insurmountable. The residents of the burning city were in a state of
+the wildest confusion, and my anxious inquiries for my father were
+fruitless; I could obtain no news of him; not a person to whom I spoke,
+not even those connected with the hotel, could inform me whether a
+gentleman named Holdfast, or one answering to my description of him, had
+stopped at the Briggs' House.
+
+I was perplexed how to act, but an idea that it would be well for me to
+remain upon the spot, on the chance that I might yet learn something
+of my father, caused me to resolve not to leave Chicago for awhile. To
+this resolution I was pledged by my necessities. I was penniless, and
+to return immediately to New York was a matter of impossibility.
+
+I had no difficulty in obtaining sufficient to live upon from day to
+day. Assistance and food poured into the city from all parts of the
+States, and already upon the burning ruins men were beginning to rebuild
+their stores and houses. Every pair of hands was valuable, and I worked
+with the rest, never for a moment losing sight of the vital mission upon
+which I was engaged. For a month I remained in Chicago, and having by
+that time earned enough money to carry me to New York, and being also
+satisfied that I had exhausted every channel open to me through which
+I might hear of or from my father, I took the train back, and in
+thirty-six hours reached the hotel in New York from which my father had
+addressed his letters to me. It appeared as if I had taken the right
+step, for on the very day of my arrival I saw among the "Personals" in
+the _New York Herald_ the following advertisement:
+
+  "F.H.--The day before you leave America for England advertise in the
+  _Herald's_ Personal column the name of the ship in which you have
+  taken your passage. It is of the utmost importance. Implicit silence
+  until we meet."
+
+Mysterious as was this communication, it afforded me satisfaction.
+My father, doubtless, had his own good reasons for the course he was
+pursuing, but it hurt me that he had not, by a few words which I alone
+could have understood, removed from me the obligation entailed upon me
+by my solemn oath to pass myself off under a false name. Until he asked
+my forgiveness, or acknowledged his error, I could not resume my own.
+
+I entered the hotel, and there another surprise awaited me. My father
+had, during my absence in Chicago, lived at the hotel for nearly a
+fortnight. In an interview with the manager, I was informed that the
+description my father had received of my personal appearance had much
+excited him. "I could not give him your name," said the manager, "as you
+did not leave any. He made inquiries for you everywhere, and employed
+detectives to discover you, but they were not successful. He appeared as
+anxious to see you as you were to see him."
+
+"He has been to Chicago, has he not?" I asked. "He was there at the time
+of the fire, and stopped at the Briggs' House?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge," replied the manager. "He has not spoken of it;
+and it is one of the things a man _would_ speak of. Such a scene as
+that!--and the Briggs' House burnt to the ground, too! No, I don't think
+Mr. Holdfast went to Chicago."
+
+I made no comment upon this; doubtless my father did not wish his
+movements to be too widely known.
+
+"Where is Mr. Holdfast now?" I inquired.
+
+"Very near Liverpool," was the reply. "He left in the Germanic this day
+week. There is a letter in the office for you which I was to deliver
+into your hands in case you called. No one else could do so, as you see
+no name is on the envelope, and as no other person but myself could
+identify you."
+
+The letter informed me that my father was returning to England, and
+I was desired to follow him immediately. To enable me to do this he
+enclosed Bank of England notes for £200, and in addition a draft for
+£500 payable at sight to bearer at a bank in London. The concluding
+words of the letter were "Upon your arrival in Liverpool go to the
+Post-office there, where a letter will await you, instructing you how
+to proceed."
+
+Made happy by this communication, but still more than ever impressed by
+the consciousness that a mystery existed which rendered it necessary
+to be cautious, I thanked the manager of the hotel, and hastened to a
+shipping office in Broadway, where I paid my passage in a steamer which
+was to leave in a couple of days. Then I went to the _Herald_ office,
+and paid for an advertisement in the Personal column, giving the name of
+the ship in which I had taken passage, and the date of its departure.
+Before the expiration of two weeks I landed in Liverpool, and applied at
+the Post Office for a letter. One was handed to me in the handwriting of
+my father. Imagine my astonishment at its contents. So as to make this
+statement in a certain measure complete, I will endeavour to recall what
+it contained.
+
+  "Frederick, and whatever other name you choose to call yourself by.
+  In sending you to Chicago, and causing you to follow me back to
+  England, I have had but one motive--to impress upon you that you
+  cannot escape the consequences of your slander upon the noblest
+  woman breathing. In whatever part of the world you may be, my hate
+  and curse shall follow you. Now, present yourself before me and beg
+  upon your knees for mercy and forgiveness; it will be another proof
+  of your currish spirit! I shall know how to receive you, Slanderer!"
+
+I could scarcely believe the evidence of my senses. I trembled with
+amazement and indignation. That such a trick should have been played
+upon me was altogether so astonishing and incomprehensible that I looked
+about me in bewilderment for a faithful heart upon whose sympathy I
+could throw myself for consolation. I thought of you, and determined to
+come to you, and ask for counsel and comfort. But before I started for
+Exeter there was something to do which, to leave undone, would have
+brought a life-long shame upon me. I took from the money remaining of
+the £200 I received in New York as much as would carry me to your side;
+the rest I enclosed in an envelope, with the sight draft for £500, and
+sent it to my father's address in London, with these words: "May God
+pardon you for the wrong you have done me! I will never seek you, nor,
+if you seek me, will I ever come to you. The money I have spent of the
+£200 I will endeavour to repay you; but what else, besides money, we owe
+to each other can never be repaid in this world."
+
+I posted this letter, and journeyed on to Exeter, and there another
+grief awaited me. You had left the town; your mother was dead, had been
+dead for weeks, and you had not informed me of it in your letters. I
+will be frank with you. So overwhelmed was I by what had taken place,
+so much was my spirit bruised, that it seemed as if faith in human kind
+had entirely deserted me. For a moment, my dear, I doubted even you;
+but then the better and truer hope dawned upon me that, knowing from my
+letters how unfortunate and unhappy I had been, you had withheld from me
+the news of your own deep trouble so that it might not add to mine.
+
+What now was I to do? All that I could learn of you was that you had
+gone to London; there, then, was my duty. To London I must go, and
+endeavour to find you, and endeavour at the same time to hide myself
+from my father who had so shamefully abused me. But I had no money--not
+a shilling. I could raise a little, however. Before I left New York I
+had provided myself with good clothes, and these were on me now. I went
+to a vile shop in one of the worst parts of Exeter, and there I bartered
+the clothes I stood upright in for a sum of money barely sufficient to
+take me to London and to enable me to live there on dry bread for a few
+days. Included in this bargain, to my necessity and advantage, was a
+ragged suit of clothes in which I dressed, after divesting myself of
+my better habiliments, and thus, clothed like a beggar, and with a
+despairing heart beating in my bosom, I made my way to London. At the
+end of a week I had not a penny left, and I was so hungry that I had to
+beg for bread of a girl standing at the wooden gate of a poor-looking
+house.
+
+The girl's heart was touched--God bless her for it!--and she ran into
+the house, and brought out a few pieces of stale bread and cheese,
+wrapped in a bit of newspaper. I stood by a lamp-post, munching the
+hard bread, and looking at the bit of newspaper the while. What I read
+related to a mysterious, fearful murder which had been committed in
+Great Porter Square. Nothing was known of the murdered man, and his
+murderer had not been discovered. The names of both were shrouded in
+mystery. "So might it be with me," I thought; "if I were murdered this
+night, there is about me or upon me absolutely no mark or sign by which
+I could be identified."
+
+Ah, my dear, London's mysteries are many and terrible! Imagination
+cannot compass or excel them.
+
+It was a dark night, and I wandered aimlessly through the streets,
+saving some of the bread for my supper later on. The hopelessness of
+the task before me, that of discovering you, filled me with a deeper
+despair. It was as though I were shut out from all sympathy with my
+kind. By what I now believe to be a kind of fate, I wandered, without
+knowing the direction I was taking, towards Great Porter Square. I came
+to the Square itself, and looked up at the name in the endeavour to
+read it. "Are you looking for Great Porter Square?" asked a woman who
+was passing by. "That's it--where the murder was committed." Well, it in
+no way concerned me. A man was murdered there. What of it? He was out of
+his misery. That was the substance of my reflections. He was out of his
+misery, as I wished I was out of mine. For the minutes were hours, every
+one of which deepened my despair. I worked myself into a condition so
+morbid and utterly wretched that I gave up all hope of finding you. I
+had no place to lie in that night, and on the previous night I had slept
+in the open. The morning light would shine upon me, penniless, starving,
+and so woe-begone as to be a mark for men. I began to think I had had
+enough of life. And all the while these gloomy thoughts were driving
+me to the lowest depths I continued to walk round and about the
+thoroughfares of the Square in which the murder had been committed.
+After a time, the consciousness of this forced itself upon me, and the
+idea entered my mind that I would go into the Square itself, and look
+at the house. I followed out my idea, and walked slowly round the Square
+until I came to No. 119. I lingered before it for a moment or two, and
+then walked the entire circuit; and as I did so another suggestion
+presented itself. From the appearance of the house I judged it to be
+deserted. If I could gain admittance I should have, at least, a shelter
+from the night for a few hours; if there were a bed in it I should have
+a bed; the circumstance of the murder having been committed there had
+no real terrors for me. I had arrived at this mental stage when I found
+myself once more before the house; I was munching some bread at the
+time. I ascended the steps and tried the street door, and as I laid my
+hand upon the handle a policeman came up to me and endeavoured to seize
+me. A sudden terror fell upon me, and I shook him off roughly, and flew
+as though I were flying for my life; and, as I have already described to
+you, as I flew, the fancy crept upon me that my presence in the Square,
+my trying the door, and now my flight, had brought me into deadly peril
+in connection with the murder. I heard the policeman running after
+me. He sprang his rattle; the air seemed filled with pursuing enemies
+hunting me down, and I flew the faster, but only to fall at last, quite
+exhausted, into the arms of men, in whose remarks I heard a confirmation
+of my fears. Then I became cooler, and was marched to a police station,
+mocking myself as it were in a temper of devilish taunting despair, to
+be accused of a crime of which no man living was more innocent. When I
+was asked for my name by the inspector I did not immediately answer. My
+own name I dared not give; nor could I give the name by which you knew
+me. I would endeavour to keep my disgrace from your knowledge; so I gave
+a false name, the first that occurred to me, Antony Cowlrick, and gave
+it in such a way that the police knew it to be false. After that, I was
+thrown into a cell, where in solitude I might repent of my crimes and
+misdeeds. So bitter was my mood that I resolved to keep my tongue silent
+and say no word about myself. I knew that I was an innocent man, and
+I looked forward somewhat curiously to learn by what villainous and
+skilful means my accusers could bring the crime of murder home to me.
+
+I pass over the dismal weeks of my farce of a trial, and I come to our
+meeting in Leicester Square.
+
+It was my first gleam of sunshine for many a week, but another was to
+warm me during the day. With you by my side my strength of mind, my hope
+returned. The only money I had was the sovereign lent to me by the
+Special Reporter of the "Evening Moon;" you were poorer than I, and had,
+when we so happily met, exhausted your resources. The very engagement
+ring I gave you had been pawned to enable you to live. Money was
+necessary. How could I obtain it? Could I not apply to one of my former
+friends? I ran over in my mind the list of those whose people lived in
+London, and I paused at the name of Adolph, who had played so memorable
+a part in the Sydney Campbell tragedy. His parents lived in London, and
+were wealthy. If Adolph were home I would appeal to him, and solicit
+help from him. We drove to his father's house, stopping on the way at
+a barber's, by whose aid I made myself more presentable. Adolph was in
+London, and luckily at home. I sent up my name, and he came to me, and
+wished me to enter the house, and be introduced to his people; but I
+pointed to my clothes and refused. He accompanied me from his house, and
+when we were in a secluded spot I told him my story under a pledge of
+secrecy. He has a good heart, and he expressed himself as owing me a
+debt of gratitude which he should never be able to repay. I pointed out
+to him how he could repay me, and the generous-hearted lad gave me not
+only a hundred pounds, but a bill, long-dated, which a money-lender
+discounted for me, and which placed me in possession of a comparatively
+large sum of money. I hope to be able to pay this debt. I think I shall
+be, in the course of time.
+
+But Adolph served me in more ways than one, and in a way neither he nor
+I could have dreamt of. The money-lender he recommended me to go to
+lived in the City, and to reach his office I had to pass my father's
+place of business. I drove there in a four-wheeled cab, and to avoid
+notice I kept the windows up. But as I passed my father's City house
+I could not help looking towards it, and I was surprised to find it
+closed. My own name did not appear upon the bill, and the money-lender
+and I were strangers to each other. I did not hesitate, therefore, when
+our business was concluded, to inquire if he knew Mr. Holdfast, and
+he replied that the name was well-known in the City. I then inquired
+why his place of business was closed, and received, in answer, the
+unexpected information that my father was in America, and had been there
+for many months. Upon this, I said in a careless tone, as though it were
+a matter in which I was but slightly interested, that I had heard that
+Mr. Holdfast had returned from America two or three months ago.
+
+"Oh, no," was the reply; "Mr. Holdfast had not yet come back."
+
+This set me thinking, and added another link to the mystery and sorrow
+of my life. I determined to assure myself whether my father was
+really in London, and on the following day I sent to his house, by
+a confidential messenger, an envelope. It was simply a test of the
+money-lender's statement. The messenger returned to me with the envelope
+unopened, and with the information that my father was in America. "I
+inquired of the workpeople," said my messenger, "and was told that Mr.
+Holdfast had not been seen in the neighbourhood for quite half a year."
+
+What conclusion was I to draw from this startling disclosure? My father,
+returning to England in the Germanic, had never been heard of either at
+his house of business or at his home? What, then, had become of him?
+What motive had he for mysterious concealment? Arguing, as I believed to
+be the case when I received the first letter from him in New York, that
+he had discovered the infamous character of the woman he had made his
+wife, there _was_ perhaps a motive for his not living in the house to
+which he had brought her; but it was surely reasonable to expect that
+his return would be known at his place of business. I reflected upon the
+nature and character of my father's wife, and upon the character of her
+scheming lover, Mr. Pelham; I subjected them to a mental analysis of the
+most searching kind, and I could arrive at but one conclusion--Foul
+Play! Judging from what had occurred between them and my poor friend,
+Sydney Campbell, there was no plot too treacherous for them to engage
+in, no scheme too wicked for them to devise and carry out. Foul Play
+rose before me in a thousand hideous shapes, until in its many-sided
+mental guise it became a conviction so strong that I did not pause to
+doubt it. Then arose another phase of the affair. If there had been
+Foul Play with my father, was it not reasonable to suppose that I,
+also, had been made the victim of clever tricksters? This, too, in a
+vague inexplicable way, became a conviction. A number of conflicting
+circumstances at once occurred to me in confirmation. The advertisement
+in the _New York Herald_ desiring me to proceed to Chicago attached
+itself to the statement of the manager of the hotel at which my
+father stopped that Mr. Holdfast had not been in Chicago. The second
+advertisement in the "Personal" column of the _Herald_ desiring me to
+advertise the name of the ship I took passage in from New York to
+Liverpool, attached itself to the circumstance that my father's letter,
+handed to me by the hotel manager, contained no wish to know what ship I
+sailed in. And upon this came the thought that at the time this last
+"Personal," which I supposed was inserted by my father, appeared in the
+columns of the _Herald_, my father was on the Atlantic. Fool that I was
+to act without deliberation, to believe without questioning. Last of
+all, the conflicting tone of the two letters I received from my father,
+the one in New York, which was undoubtedly genuine, and the one from the
+Liverpool post office, which may have been forged!--This completed it.
+Conviction seemed added to conviction, confirmation to confirmation,
+doubt to doubt--although every point in the evidence was circumstantial,
+and, nothing as yet could be distinctly proved. How I regretted that I
+had not kept the letters! When I received the last in Liverpool, I tore
+up, in a fury of indignation, every letter my father had written to me,
+and had therefore no writing of his in my possession by which I could
+compare and judge. I find now, that it is too late, that there is no
+wisdom in haste.
+
+It weighed heavily upon me, as a duty not to be avoided, to endeavour to
+ascertain whether my father arrived in the Germanic, and after that what
+had become of him. And with the consciousness of this unmistakable duty
+arose the memory of so many acts of tenderness and kindness from my
+father to myself, that I began to accuse myself of injustice towards
+him, and to believe that it was not he who had wronged me, but I who
+had wronged him. With this grievous thought in my mind, I left you, and
+proceeded to Liverpool.
+
+My first visit was paid to the office of the White Star Line. There I
+learned that my father had taken passage in New York on the date I gave,
+that the Germanic arrived in Liverpool after a rapid passage of little
+more than eight days, that no casualty occurred on the voyage, and that
+there was no doubt that my father landed with the other passengers. This
+point was settled by the books of the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool. My
+father had stopped there for six days, and his name was duly recorded.
+Another point, quite as important, was established by reference to the
+hotel books and by inquiring of persons employed in the hotel. When my
+father left Liverpool, he took train to London. I had arrived at this
+stage of my inquiries, and was debating on the next step to take, when
+my attention was attracted by the cries of the newspaper street boys,
+calling out at the top of their voices, fresh discoveries in the
+_Evening Moon_ respecting the murder in Great Porter Square. With no
+suspicion of the awful disclosure which awaited me, but naturally
+interested in any new phase of the mysterious incident, I purchased the
+paper and looked at the headings of the Supplement, and, casually at
+the matter. Seeing my own name--the name of Holdfast--repeated over and
+over again in the paper, I hurried from the street to the solitude of my
+room, and there read the most wicked, monstrous, and lying romance that
+human minds ever invented. And in addition to the horrible calumnies
+which that "Romance of Real Life" contains in its references to me,
+I learned, to my unutterable grief, that the man who was so foully
+murdered in Great Porter Square was my own father.
+
+My dear, for many minutes the terrible disclosure--the knowledge that my
+dear father had met his death in a manner so awful and mysterious, took
+such complete possession of my mind that I had no thought of myself. My
+father was dead! The last time we met we parted in anger, using words
+to each other such as bitter enemies would use. I swore in his presence
+that he was dishonouring the name of Holdfast, and that I would never
+use it until he asked my forgiveness for the cruel injustice he had done
+me; and he drove me from his heart and from his house. My forgiveness he
+could never ask for now; he was dead! And the wrong we each did to the
+other in that hot encounter, in which love was poisoned by a treacherous
+wanton's scheming, could never be repaired until we met in another
+world. I wept bitter tears, and falling on my knees--my mind enlightened
+by the strange utterances of a worthless woman, as reported in the
+_Evening Moon_--I asked my father's forgiveness, as I had warned him to
+ask mine. And yet, my dear, neither of us was wrong; he was right and I
+was right; and if the question between us were put to a high and worthy
+test, it would be found that we both were animated by impulses which,
+under other circumstances, would have been an honour to our manhood.
+
+But these kindly feelings passed away in the indignation which a sense
+of monstrous injustice inspired. To see my name so blackened, so
+defamed, my character so outraged and malformed, inflamed me for a time
+to a pitch of fury which threatened to cloud my judgment and my reason.
+What brought me to my senses? My love for you. I should have been
+reckless had I only myself to protect, to provide for; but a dearer self
+than myself depended upon me, and my honour was engaged to you. It was
+due to you that I should clear myself of these charges. Herein, my dear,
+came home to me, in the most forcible manner in which it could have been
+presented, the value of responsibilities. They tend to check our selfish
+impulses, and to indicate to us our line of action--straight on.
+
+At this time I had written to you my half-disapproval of the step you
+had taken in disguising yourself as a maid-of-all-work, and obtaining a
+situation next to that in Great Porter Square in which the murder had
+been committed--Great God! I cannot write it with calmness--the murder
+of my father. But after I had read the Romance in Real Life in the
+_Evening Moon_ and had somewhat calmed myself, I seemed to see in your
+action a kind of Providence. Before these insanely-wicked inventions of
+my father's widow were made public, before it was known that the man who
+was murdered in Great Porter Square was my father, it was comparatively
+unimportant that I should be cleared of a charge of which I was
+innocent; it was then, so to speak, a side issue; now it is a vital
+issue. And the murderer must be discovered. I say it solemnly--_must_ be
+discovered! He will be. Not by the Government, nor by the police, nor by
+any judicial agency, but by one whose honour, whose future, whose faith
+and love, are dragged into this dread crisis. And I see that it will
+be so--I see that you have been guided by a higher than a human impulse
+in your love-directed and seemingly mad inspiration to transform and
+degrade yourself, for the purpose of clearing me from a wicked and cruel
+accusation. At one time I doubted whether truth and justice were more
+than words; I doubt no longer; reflecting over certain incidents and
+accidents--accidents as I believed them to be--I see that something more
+than chance directed them, and that of our own destinies we ourselves
+are not the sole arbiters.
+
+In the extraordinary narration presented to the readers of the _Evening
+Moon_ I read that I am dead. Well, be it so. How the falsehood was
+invented, and led up to, and strengthened by newspaper evidence,
+scarcely interests me in the light of the more momentous issue which
+affects my future and yours. Involved in it, undoubtedly, were wonderful
+inventive powers, much painstaking, and immense industry--the result of
+which was a newspaper paragraph of a few lines, every word of which is
+false. That the woman who _was_ my father's wife, that the man who _is_
+her lover, believe that I am dead, appears to be beyond doubt. Let them
+continue in their belief until their guilt is brought home to them. To
+all intents and purposes, to all useful ends at present in the service
+of truth and justice, it will be best that it should be believed that
+I _am_ dead. So let it be, then, until the proper time comes. It will
+come, I believe and hope.
+
+To one end I am pledged. I will avenge my father's murder, if it is in
+my power. I will bring his murderer to justice, if it is in my power.
+Help me if you can, and if after you peruse this strange narrative,
+every word of which is as faithful and true as though an angel, instead
+of an erring mortal, wrote it, you can still believe in me, still have
+faith in me, I shall bless you all my life, as I shall love you all my
+life, whether you remain faithful to me or not.
+
+To my own heart, buoyed as I am with hope, stricken down as I am with
+despair, it seems treason to me to doubt; but all belief and faith,
+human and divine, would fall into a dark and hopeless abyss if it did
+not have some image, human or divine, to cling to; and I cling to you!
+You are my hope and my anchor!
+
+I will not attempt to describe, as dimly I comprehend it now, the
+character of the woman who has brought all this misery upon me. She is
+fair and beautiful to look upon; innocence appears to dwell in her face;
+her eyes meet yours frankly and smilingly; her manners are the manners
+of a child; her voice is as sweet as the voice of a child. Were she and
+I to appear before a human tribunal, accused of a crime of which she was
+guilty and I innocent, she would be acquitted and I condemned.
+
+I am in your hands. Judge me quickly. If you delay, and say, "My faith
+is not shaken," I am afraid I should not be satisfied, because of your
+delay. In hope, as in despair,
+
+  I am, for ever yours,
+  FREDERICK.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+BECKY'S REPLY TO HER LOVER'S STATEMENT.
+
+
+MY DEAREST,--It is now very near morning, within an hour of the time I
+am expected to rise. I have been up all night, and having read the story
+of your life from beginning to end, have re-read some portions again and
+again, so that they shall be fixed permanently in my mind. How I love
+and pity you! To say, as you desire me to say, that my faith is not
+shaken, is but a poor expression of my feelings towards you. My faith is
+strengthened, my love is strengthened, my hope is strengthened. Sitting
+in my little cupboard of a bedroom, with Fanny sleeping peacefully in my
+bed--yes, my dear, my poor little friend is with me again; I found her,
+the night before last, fainting for food at the street door of
+No. 119--sitting here, in the presence of that poor human waif, with my
+candle nearly burnt out, and the dim light of morning just beginning to
+dawn, it seems to me as if a star is shining upon me, instilling into my
+heart a wonderful faith and courage.
+
+I am not tired, but that may be because of my excitement and exaltation.
+I intend to be careful and prudent. When the housework is done, I shall
+take some rest. I might have a little now, but that I can turn my
+thoughts to nothing until I write to you what is in my mind. My faith
+is not shaken; I repeat it; and I add, let not your faith be shaken.
+Whatever occurs, do not for a moment doubt me, do not for a moment lose
+faith in me. You say that I must have been guided by a higher than a
+human impulse when I took the strange step of transforming myself into a
+servant-of-all-work, and seeking service with Mrs. Preedy, in the house
+next to that in which your dear father was murdered. Do you remember my
+telling you in my first letter that an inspiration had fallen upon me
+when I conceived the idea? And if at that time, before it was known who
+it was who had been so mysteriously murdered, I believed my idea to be
+an inspiration, how much more reason have I to believe it now that the
+awful crime is brought so close to us and is woven into your life? You
+declare that you will bring your father's murderer to justice, and
+you ask me to help you. What answer can I make you? This. That all
+that a woman's power, all that a woman's devotion, all that a woman's
+self-sacrifice, can do to the end to which you have pledged yourself,
+shall be done by me. I can do much, more than you can imagine possible,
+if certain thoughts, created by what you have written, touch even the
+border-land of truth. They do, I believe, and they will lead me to the
+fulfilment of what we both with all our hearts desire.
+
+But you must be guided by me. For once in the way, let a woman take
+the command, and let her prove herself capable. Not that you could not
+accomplish what is necessary for our happiness, and in the cause of
+truth and justice, a great deal better than I. But your hands are not
+free; you cannot move without the risk of being watched, and persecuted,
+and hampered--while I am free to act, without the slightest chance of
+being suspected. I am comparatively unknown, and can work without fear;
+besides, I am a woman, and can do what you would scorn to do. No man can
+be a match for such a creature as Lydia Holdfast--let us call her by
+that name. It must be a case of Greek meeting Greek, and in me this
+woman will find more than her match. So for the present do not move
+openly; do not run the risk of being discovered. Do nothing that will
+put our enemies on their guard; above all, do not write to the newspaper
+which published Lydia Holdfast's infamous story; a friend has already
+stepped forward in vindication of your character, and that should be a
+comfort to you, as it is to me. You are right in saying that it will
+be best it should be believed that you are dead; therefore, do nothing
+rashly, but leave all to me.
+
+See, now--I am writing with so much confidence and assurance that
+anyone who did not know me would suppose I had a very wise head on my
+shoulders. Well, it may not be very wise, but it is clever and cunning,
+and that is just what is wanted--cunning to meet cunning. What is it
+Shakespeare says about wearing your heart upon your sleeve? Not for
+me; I will keep my heart hidden, where only you can find it, and will
+wear in its place something that will make me smile, or pout, or
+cry--whichever will best serve my turn.
+
+You see, my dear, I am on the spot, and in a position which gives me
+such immense advantages. Your father has been cruelly murdered--the
+discovery of the murderer will lead to all the rest. There is in this
+house a man who is in some way interested in the mystery, who is living
+under an assumed name, who paints and wears a wig, and who endeavours to
+pass himself off as a foreigner. I must find out who this Richard Manx
+really is, and what is his motive in taking a room at the very top of
+the house, and in presenting himself here under a disguise. It is to him
+I have traced the report that our house and the next are haunted. He has
+a purpose in spreading the report. Perhaps it is because he does not
+wish the house to be let until he has found what he is searching for in
+the room in which your poor father was killed. He might take it himself
+you say. But would not this be to attract to himself an amount of
+attention which would not be agreeable to him? As to his being as poor
+as he professes to be, I do not believe a word of it. He has taken up
+his quarters here in such a manner as to cause him to be but little
+noticed, and it has been done with deliberate intention.
+
+I could say a hundred other things, my mind is so crowded, but I have no
+time. I shall not send this letter through the post. Asleep in my bed is
+a trusty little friend, who will faithfully carry out what I give her
+to do. She will come to you, and you can say whatever you please to
+her--give her what message you like--and do not attempt to employ her
+in any other way than in bringing to me whatever you wish me to receive.
+I myself have a very delicate piece of work for her to do.
+
+I long to see you, to embrace you, to comfort you; but for a little
+while we must remain apart. I cannot come to you, nor can you come to
+me. We have too much at stake to run the slightest risk. I propose to
+write to you every night, and to send Fanny to you every morning with
+my letters. You can give her your letters to me. Do not send any
+more strange men to the house. Richard Manx might see them, and his
+suspicions might be aroused. Perhaps the hardest duty before us is the
+duty of patience, but unless we submit we shall fail in our purpose. So
+let us be brave and patient, working not for the present, but for the
+future. My love, my heart, are yours for ever, and I thank God that I
+have such a man as you to love. If I write in a more serious vein than I
+am accustomed to do, it is because I recognise the seriousness of the
+task upon which we are engaged; it is not that I am altered; I could not
+write lightly if I tried, and in your eyes I would not be false.
+
+I cannot say good-night. It is morning. Well, to us sunrise is better
+than sunset. Keep a stout heart, and do not despond--for your own sake
+and mine. Farewell, dear love, for a few hours.
+
+
+_END OF VOLUME II._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note
+
+
+Words in italics have been surrounded by _underscores_ and small
+capitals have been changed to all capitals.
+
+Punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Also the
+following corrections have been made, on page
+
+   49 "a a" changed to "a" (You're a good girl)
+   56 "appproaching" changed to "approaching" (She was approaching the
+      tragedy.)
+   82 "riv r" changed to "river" (by a dark river, lighted up by
+      lightning)
+  104 "works" changed to "words" (the exact words spoken by)
+  125 "marriagable" changed to "marriageable" (marriageable young
+      ladies)
+  134 "gentlemen" changed to "gentleman" (Sydney is a gentleman.)
+  139 "Their" changed to "There" (There lives not on earth)
+  197 "that" changed to "than" (less than a thousand a year)
+  218 "comfirmation" changed to "confirmation" (enlisted in
+      confirmation of the news.).
+
+Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistent
+spelling and hyphenation, and possible errors in accentuation.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Great Porter Square, v. 2, by 
+Benjamin Leopold Farjeon
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42906 ***