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diff --git a/42906-0.txt b/42906-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c98fe35 --- /dev/null +++ b/42906-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4710 @@ +*** 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 *** |