This fell on him like a thunderbolt. How was he to marry Fenella
with a thought like that in his heart? It would be with him night
and day. He might even blurt it out in his sleep. "Assassin! It
was I who killed the old man by letting that lie go on."
Feeling feverish and unable to remain indoors, he went out to walk on
the gravel path in front of the house. The fresh air revived him and
he took possession of himself again.
"If the Speaker dies it will be the act of God," he thought.
He would be in no way responsible. Neither would Gell. If rumour
charged the son with killing the father it would be a lie--a damned
lie, manufactured by Fate, the great liar.
It was not as if Gell were in any danger--the danger of arrest for
instance. _That_ would be different. But Gell was in no
danger--none whatever.
"Therefore bury the thing! Bury it and go on as usual," he told
himself.
The evening was closing in. It was beautiful and limpid. With a
high step Stowell was walking to and fro on the path. Visions were
rising before him of Gell and Bessie Collister on the big liner,
ploughing their way through the darkening ocean to that free
continent "where the clouds sailed higher"--Archibald Alexander and
his sister Elizabeth going out to the new world to begin a new life.
He had visions of Fenella too--how he would go up to Government House
to-morrow morning. "Tell him to come back to me," she said to Janet,
and now he would go. How happy he was going to be!
"Surely I've a right to some happiness after all I've gone through."
He gave himself up to the intoxication of living by anticipation
through those most blissful moments to a man and woman who love each
other--the first moments of reconciliation after a quarrel.
Night had fallen. It was very dark. The late birds were silent, and
only the soft young leaves of May were rustling in the darkness
overhead with that gentleness that is like the whispering of angels.
All at once a red light jogged up from the gate, making shadows among
the trees that bordered the drive.
"Good evenin', Dempster! A letter for you, Sir."
It was Killip the postman.
"Thank you, Mr. Killip," said Stowell, taking the letter. He could
not see it in the darkness, but at the touch of the large envelope a
heavy foreboding came over him.
"I suppose you've heard about that affair, your Honour?"
"What affair?"
"Tommy Vondy. He's got himself kicked out of the Castle for letting
that girl escape. The gorm! He's my first cousin, and he's in his
seventy-seven, but he was always a toot, was Tommy!"
"Good-night, Mr. Killip."
"Good-night, your Honour!"
When Stowell returned to the porch he looked at his letter by the
light of the lamp on the landing. It was from the Governor. He went
into the Library and tore it open.