A CLEAN BREAST OF IT
There were strange rumours in the air; the servants at the Hall were
asking thrilling questions in whispers. Nobody seemed to know anything
but Slight, who kept his counsel. Everything was going to come right
in a day or two; all they had to do was to go about their business
quietly. Late in the afternoon it became known that Sir Vincent had
vanished, and within an hour or two, strange men with an air of
authority were calling at the Hall and asking questions. Mr. Dashwood
had gone over to the dower house to see what was really wrong. He
found Lady Dashwood in the dining-room in deep discussion with the
family solicitor, Mr. Morley.
"What is all this I hear?" Dashwood asked. "The new head of the family
has vanished, and I'm told that he and Mayfield tried to murder Ralph
Darnley last night. Slight has told me a great deal, but he will not
say anything as to the motive for the extraordinary crime. He says he
prefers to leave me to hear the truth from Lady Dashwood."
"Or from me," Mr. Morley said grimly. "As I have said all along, you
have been the victim of a most impudent imposter--the son of a woman
called Speed. Lady Dashwood has just been telling me the whole history
of the painful case. I need not go into that at length, Mr. Dashwood,
as it is a confidential matter. She was a sister of the late Mr. Ralph
Dashwood's first wife, which accounts for many things that that
impudent imposter knew. I hear that the police have taken out a
warrant for the arrest of this Speed and his companion in crime,
Horace Mayfield. In any case, they are not likely to trouble us
again."
George Dashwood responded suitably. He hoped that Mr. Ralph Darnley
was in no danger. At the same time he could not be blind to the fact
that the amazing change in the condition of affairs made a great
difference to his own position. He had suffered the most from the
machinations of the rascal who had so deceived them all. Also, he
could see now that he was free for ever from the persecutions of
Horace Mayfield. He felt quite proud and self-important; his position
took definite shape before him.
"In that case," he said, "we revert to the old condition of affairs.
As a matter of fact, I have never had any occasion to drop the title
to which----"
"Pardon me, sir," Morley said drily. "You never had any more right to
it than the wretched criminal who at the present moment is flying
from justice. The young man you know as Ralph Darnley is really Sir
Ralph Dashwood. Lady Dashwood has just given me the most absolute
proofs of his identity. Besides, just before his death, the last Ralph
Dashwood wrote to me and explained everything. It was the new head of
the family who asked me to let Vincent Speed have his lead for a time.
I believe there was some quixotic and sentimental reason to account
for this conduct on Sir Ralph's part. On that head Lady Dashwood can
speak more definitely than I can."
"When the time comes," Lady Dashwood murmured. "It is exactly as Mr.
Morley says, George. And I am glad to say the doctor reports very
favourably of Ralph this afternoon. If you had ever known my son,
George, you would not have doubted the identity of young Ralph
directly you cast eyes on him. I would rather not tell you as yet the
real reason why he wished to be known as Ralph Darnley."
George Dashwood was very disappointed. Yet, on the whole, things might
have been worse. He had never disguised from himself that the deposed
impostor was anything but a gentleman. And his position at the Hall
might have been a comfortable one, but it was full of humiliation.
These things Dashwood spoke of as he walked with Morley down the
avenue.
Meanwhile Lady Dashwood was spending her time between the dining-room
and the bedroom wherein Ralph lay. She was sorry for all the anxiety
and misery on the very day that Grace Cameron had arrived, but she had
found the girl a great comfort to her, she was so quiet and
resourceful, so ready to help. The doctor had called again for the
third time just before dinner, and his report was as favourable as
before. Lady Dashwood and Grace were sitting down to something in the
way of dinner.
"I have been thinking," Grace said. "Mary ought to know of this."
Lady Dashwood started and laid down her knife and fork. She had
forgotten all about Mary.
"She had quite escaped my memory," she confessed. "She will be very
distressed because she rather likes Ralph, and he saved her life on
more than one occasion. But Ralph is masterful and Mary is proud. Of
course, I know what Ralph's feelings are, and I may say that he was
instrumental in getting her out into the world. Oh, my dear, I think
you can guess what the dream of my life is as to those two people."
Grace smiled with ready sympathy. Her delicate face flushed.
"It will not be a dream much longer or I am greatly mistaken," she
said. "Mary loves that man. I know by the way she speaks of him. And
Connie Colam has told me. I don't want to be inquisitive, Lady
Dashwood, but I should like to hear the story of that romance. Connie
says that I should hardly know Mary if I had met her on the first day
in London. She was hard and proud and distant, and she deliberately
allowed the ice to grow round her heart; she was eaten up with family
pride. And she learned her lesson in two days. I could see her change,
as a butterfly newly out changes in the sun. I dare say you may call
that a ridiculous simile, but I can't think of a better. And when
Connie spoke to her of love and the advantages of love over everything
else she came to guess. I am sure that Ralph Darnley has told her that
he cares for her."
"That is so," Lady Dashwood smiled. "He is a very masterful young man,
as I told you before. And I fancy he told Mary that he would win her
in spite of everything. He has taken his own way of doing it, as you
may hear some day. But if all you say is true, I am not going to spoil
Mary's pleasure in the telling of her pretty love story. So you think
that Mary ought to know what has happened? You think that if we send
her a telegram she will come down here at once?"
"I am certain of it," Grace cried. "She will be displeased with us
that we had forgotten. It is all going to come right, Lady Dashwood.
Your dream is coming true, and Mary will be a happy girl yet."
Lady Dashwood smiled as she reached for the telegram forms. She
wondered if it would be possible for Mary to reach the dower house
that night. Presently a cab crept along the drive; no doubt it was the
doctor coming to call once more. Then Grace gave a cry of pleasure as
the cab door opened and a slender figure in black jumped out.
"She is here, Lady Dashwood," the girl exclaimed. "Mary! She must
have heard. These things find their way into London evening papers
directly."
The door of the dining-room opened and Mary came in. She was pale and
agitated; she had her hand to her heart. It was some time before she
could speak. She glanced from one to the other, as if not daring to
ask what was trembling on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes filled with
relief as she noted the welcome on the faces of the others.
"He is better?" she gasped. "He is not dead. I--I was afraid to ask.
Oh, if you only knew the gnawing agony of the last hour! I saw it in
one of the evening papers. I flew down here as soon as possible. And
how is he--how is Ralph?"
Deeply touched as she was, Lady Dashwood smiled. She was glad to hear
Ralph's name come so naturally off Mary's tongue. It showed that she
thought of him by his Christian name.
"He is much better," she said. "The doctor gives a very good report.
And he is not in the least likely to die this time."
"You might have let me know," Mary said reproachfully. "It would have
saved a deal of anxiety. And I am quite sure that in his heart you
know that----"
"You loved the man who is lying upstairs," Grace said gently.
Mary's pale face flushed; a yearning look came into her eyes.
"You have finished the confession for me," she cried. "I did not know,
I could not guess till I saw that dreadful paper. And then it came to
me that a great blank would come into my life if Ralph died. He said
that I should learn my lesson, and I have done so. It has not taken me
long to learn the difference between the false and the true, and that
love is everything, and money and position are nothing by the side of
it. And then as if some veil had been lifted from my eyes, I saw that
I had cared for Ralph all the time. He told me once that I should come
to him on my knees and ask forgiveness. I am ready to do it now."
The girl's voice rose loud and clear; she looked very sweet and
womanly in her self-abnegation. She felt all the better for her
confession, as if a weight had been lifted from her soul. Lady
Dashwood would have said nothing in reply, but the door opened at the
same moment and the nurse came in.
"Mr. Darnley is conscious, my lady," she said. "He asked for you. It
will do no harm if you see him for one moment. He seems troubled to
think that he is in your room----"
Mary darted for the door. Before anybody could interfere she was
half-way up the stairs. In the darkened room Ralph lay; he could catch
the rustle of a dress; he noted the faint fragrance of a woman's hair.
Then Mary was kneeling by the bedside, her cool, wet face pressed to
Ralph's hot flushed one.
"I have come to you," she said. "My darling, I have come to you. My
lesson has been learned. My eyes have been opened. And I love you,
Ralph. I have come to tell you, and make my confession. On my knees,
dear, on my knees, dear heart, as you prophesied, I make it!"