There was a moment's silence, then Bertram Chesleigh said, quickly:
"Come with me, Mr. Glenalvan. Let the secret you have kept so long be
revealed in the hearing of your father and Richard Leith."
The guilty man recoiled from the demand. He said, hoarsely:
"I refuse to do so. I will reveal it to you, and you may bear the news
yourself to them."
Bertram Chesleigh considered the reply a moment, then answered, firmly.
"I prefer that they should hear it from your own lips."
John Glenalvan regarded him with furious eyes.
"You wish to humble me all you can," he said.
"Not so," replied Mr. Chesleigh. "But I consider that they have too
decided a right to hear your confession, for me to exclude them from
this momentous interview."
The angry man regarded him silently a moment, then said, with a sigh of
baffled rage:
"So be it. I am not now in a position to dictate terms, and must obey
your will. You swear to keep Elinor's secret if I do this thing?"
"Yes," Bertram answered.
"I am ready to accompany you, then. Elinor," he turned a furious gaze
on his daughter who was weeping nervously near the door; "go to your
mother, now. Tell her that you have ruined all my plans, and that I
forever curse the hour in which you were born."
She turned away, casting one last look of fiery anger and hatred on the
man she had tried to murder, and left the room.
The two men went down together to Richard Leith's room. The lawyer was
sitting up in an easy-chair, talking to old Hugh Glenalvan who occupied
a chair near the window.
They both looked up in surprise at the unexpected sight of John
Glenalvan, whom they had supposed to be far away in hiding somewhere.
Bertram spoke at once, quietly:
"You will pardon this late intrusion, Mr. Glenalvan. This gentleman has
an important communication to make to you, and I ventured to bring him
at once."
"A communication?" faltered the old man, looking blankly at his son.
"Yes," answered Mr. Chesleigh, with the flush of joyful triumph on
his handsome face. "He will solve for you the strange mystery of your
daughter's disappearance, sixteen years ago."
A cry came from Richard Leith's white lips. The old man echoed it
feebly, as he rose and went to his son, but John waved him rudely back.
"Do not come near me," he said, harshly; "I have always hated you
because you loved my sister best."
"I could not help it, John. She was more lovable than you," the father
faltered, feebly.
"And so she stole your love from me and earned my hate. But I have had
a great revenge," said the relentless wretch, grimly.
"Oh, John, John!"
The wailing cry came from the old man's lips; he looked at his son in
surprise and horror.
"Yes, revenge," repeated John Glenalvan, seeming to take a malicious
pride in his wickedness now that its revelation was forced upon him.
"I hated her, and when my opportunity came, I seized upon it. I knew
she was a wife, yet it was my hand that sent her that lying letter that
made her leave her husband."
"Devil!" Richard Leith muttered, making an effort to spring upon him,
but Bertram Chesleigh held him back, and the villain who had so wronged
him laughed mockingly.
"She came home," he went on, after a minute, "came home, and her child
was born. The following night came her mysterious disappearance which
I accounted for by declaring that she had returned to her deceiver,
unable to exist away from him."
All eyes were fixed on his dark, demoniac face as he proceeded. Every
heart hung trembling on his further words.
At last the fearful mystery of little Golden's fate would be known to
those who loved and mourned her.
Old Dinah had stolen silently in, and sat crouching in a corner, her
beady, black eyes fixed intently on the face of the man whom she had
always distrusted.
"Speak," Richard Leith thundered, almost mad with impatience. "Speak!
You know she never came to me. Where is she now, my poor, wronged
darling?"
"Is she dead or living?" echoed the wronged woman's father.
"_She is dead_!" John Glenalvan answered, coldly.
"Dead!" they echoed, despairingly.
"She has been dead these sixteen years," he answered.
"Vile wretch, then you murdered her," cried Richard Leith, struggling
frantically in Bertram Chesleigh's strong hold.
The villain laughed heartlessly.
"Not so," he replied. "I hated her, but I would not have risked hanging
for her sake. It was no fault of mine that she came to her death so
tragically."
"Dead and buried these sixteen years," old Hugh moaned, wringing his
feeble hands, and weeping as if the bereavement were but of yesterday.
"John, tell me where to find my darling's grave."
"_She lies in the bottom of the lake_!" he replied, and those who
watched him saw him shudder and turn pale for the first time.
"How came she there?" broke out Bertram Chesleigh.
"My sister was a somnambulist, Mr. Chesleigh. You will not deny that
fact, father. She wandered from the house in her sleep, and walked
deliberately into the lake."
"You saw her?"
"Yes, I was the only witness to the tragic deed," he replied, and again
they saw a shudder shake his strong frame, and the chill dew beaded his
forehead.
"Devil, you lie! You pushed her in!" cried Richard Leith, wild with
rage and grief.
"Did you, John? Oh, tell me the truth," moaned his father.
"No, I did not, as there is a Heaven that hears me. I hated Golden
because you and my mother loved her best, and because half of your
property would go to her, but the thought of murder had not entered my
head. I was out late that night, and returning with my mind full of
envious thoughts toward my sister, I saw her crossing the moonlighted
lawn, and on coming nearer saw that she was asleep. Keeping near to
her, I followed her down to the lake, and she walked on straight,
without pause or backward glance, into the water."
"And you put out no hand to save her--murderer!" cried Bertram
Chesleigh, in terrific scorn.
"I did not know what she would do until all was over," he replied.
"You might have saved her even then," Bertram Chesleigh said.
"Yes, I might, but I hated her, and the devil whispered to me that this
was my opportunity, so I watched the water close over her head, and
then I walked away," he replied.
"Oh, my God, is de vengeance ob Hebben asleep dat such debbils roam de
yerth?" wailed old Dinah.
They echoed her cry. Surely the vengeance of Heaven slumbered that such
demons walked the earth unsmitten.
"Then temptation entered my soul," he continued. "I did not think it
was right for Golden's child to inherit her share of the property when
I needed it so much for my own growing family. So I fabricated that
slander, and eventually forced my father to make over the remnant of
the Glenalvans' possessions to me, and I transferred my hatred from
Golden to her child. Now you know all."
Old Hugh pointed to the door with a shaking finger.
"Go, now, before I call down the terrible vengeance of God on your
guilty head!" he cried. "Go, and leave me to weep for my murdered
darling!"