It was closing time at the Three Tuns, and some tipplers were being
bundled out, much against their will, when Timothy Chance, entering
with Mr. Manners, called the landlord aside, and had a hurried
conference with him. The result was satisfactory.
"They are having supper in a private room," said Timothy to Mr.
Manners, "and the landlord will take us up, unannounced." They
ascended the stairs, and the landlord, without knocking, throwing open
the door, Timothy and Mr. Manners entered the room.
Mark Inglefield was sitting at the supper-table; by his side sat Mary
Parkinson; opposite to them sat Blooming Bess. Mark Inglefield,
looking up, with angry words on his lips at the intrusion, was about
to utter them, when, seeing who his visitors were, he fell back as if
suddenly paralyzed. His face was of a deadly pallor, his limbs
trembled, he was speechless. Mr. Manners gave him time to recover
himself, but the detected villain did not speak. He felt that
retribution had overtaken him.
"I wish to say a word to you," said Mr. Manners, sternly. "Do you
prefer it should be said here or in private?"
Mark Inglefield, shaking like a man in an ague, rose to his feet and
staggered to the door.
"In private?" asked Mr. Manners.
"In private," replied Mark Inglefield, his voice scarcely rising above
a whisper.
"Remain here," said Mr. Manners to Timothy, "and explain to Miss
Parkinson why we have come."
Then he followed Mark Inglefield from the room. The landlord was on
the stairs, and at Mr. Manners's request he conducted the two to
another room, saying:
"You will not be disturbed."
Summoning all his courage, Mark Inglefield said:
"This is an unexpected honor, sir. Your errand is probably the same as
mine."
"What may your errand be?" asked Mr. Manners.
"I said this morning," replied Mark Inglefield, striving to believe
that the game was not yet lost, and that he could still continue to
deceive the man upon whom he had imposed for so many years, "that I
would find Mary Parkinson, and endeavor to extract the truth from her.
With the aid of a detective I succeeded in tracking her here."
"Yes," said Mr. Manners, inwardly resolving to ascertain to what
further lengths in the art of duplicity Mark Inglefield would go; "was
she surprised to see you?"
"Very," said Mark Inglefield, beginning to gain confidence. "Very much
surprised."
"She did not know you?"
"How could she, sir? It was a bold plan of mine, but I have hopes that
it will be attended with the happiest results. To restore an erring
child to her father's arms is a task of which I am sure you will
approve."
"I do."
"Perhaps," continued Mark Inglefield (thinking to himself, "What a
fool I was to exhibit any sign of fear!")--"perhaps to bring her back
to the path of virtue and make an honest woman of her--this is what I
hope to achieve. Then I could come to you, and say, 'I have done this
good action in return for the slander which an enemy dared to breathe
against me.'"
"It would be a good action. To bring a weak, erring child back to the
path of virtue, and make an honest woman of her. Is that really your
wish?"
"What other wish can I have, sir, with respect to Mr. Parkinson? Would
it not entirely clear me from suspicion?"
Mr. Manners ignored the question. "She did not know you, you say. How
did you introduce yourself to her? In your own name?"
"Of course. It would have been wrong to use another."
"Did the detective you employed accompany you?"
"He did; else I should hardly have found this out-of-the-way hole--in
which, sir, I am surprised to see you. But I need not express
surprise. Your decision of character and kindness of heart are well
known to me.",
"My decision of character--yes; my kindness of heart--those are
meaningless words in your experience of me. But the past can be atoned
for."
"You have nothing to reproach yourself with, sir."
"My conscience answers. But it is not to speak of myself that I have
come to-night. Is the detective who conducted you here now in the
house? I should like to speak to him."
"How unfortunate! It is but a few minutes since he left us. Had I
known--"
"But you did not know."
"No, indeed, sir."
"Did you disclose to Miss Parkinson the nature of your errand?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was her answer?"
"She was grateful, truly grateful."
"Was it your intention to take her back to her home tonight?"
"Scarcely to-night. Early in the morning, after she was calmer, and
prepared to meet her father."
"She has a companion with her?"
It was this question which caused Mark Inglefield to suddenly
recollect that Mr. Manners had seen Blooming Bess earlier in the day.
Up to this point he had not given her a thought.
"Ah, yes, sir, a companion, who gave us certain information when we
paid our visit to Mr. Parkinson. It was a happy thought of mine to
take the poor girl with us; it would inspire Miss Parkinson with
confidence in me. Besides, sir, it would not have been proper for me
to visit Miss Parkinson alone."
"Shall I call her down to test the truth of your statements?"
"Surely, sir, you do not doubt me!"
"I ask again, shall I call her down to test the truth of your
statements?"
"Shall I go up and bring her down to you?"
"In order," said Mr. Manners, "that you may have time to concoct some
story which you can prevail upon her to adopt, so that I may be the
further deceived?"
"Sir, you wrong me," stammered Mark Inglefield.
"Mr. Inglefield," said Mr. Manners, "let us throw aside the mask of
treachery and deceit. The questions I addressed to you were put for a
purpose. Is it sufficiently explicit to you if I tell you that you
have betrayed yourself?"
"I do not understand you."
"That is not true. You understand me well enough, though yet you do
not know all I have resolved upon. It is I, not you, who will take
Miss Parkinson to her father to-night. It is for you, not for me, to
make an honest woman of her."
Then, indeed, did Mark Inglefield know that the game was up.
"If you are determined not to believe what I say, sir--"
"Not one word. All your statements are false--in the present, as they
have been in the past. It was you who stole Miss Parkinson from her
home last night, and the poor girl who is now with her was bought over
by you. Be thankful that you are spared a visit from Mr. Parkinson.
But for me, you would be face to face with him, and would have had to
answer for your crime. Mr. Inglefield, evil can be atoned for. For the
evil I have done in the past it shall be my endeavor to atone. It will
be to your interest to come to the same resolve."
"Can nothing I can say convince you that you are doing me an
injustice?"
"Nothing. So much has been revealed and made clear to me that only one
course remains open to you, so far as I am concerned."
"Perhaps," said Mark Inglefield, in a tone which he vainly strove to
make defiant, "you will explain yourself?"
"I will do so. You will marry the girl you have brought to shame."
"I, sir, I! It is a monstrous idea!"
"Knowing you as I know you now, there is indeed something revolting in
it--and it may be that she will not give you the opportunity of making
atonement." Mark Inglefield smiled scornfully. "There is a road,"
pursued Mr. Manners, "out of evil, and for a little while this road
will be open to you. Turn your back upon it, and go forth into the
world, a beggar! Enter it--with a purified heart, if you can--and I
will make you recompense."
"You will fulfil the expectations you have always held out to me?"
"No. My promise was given to a man of honor, as I believed. I will not
bring my tongue to utter what you have proved yourself to be. But I
will give you a competence, which my lawyers shall arrange with you.
For myself, after this night I will never see you again, nor shall you
ever again darken my door. There is something more, and it may weigh
with you. For years past you have transacted certain business matters
for me. I have not too closely looked into them. Refuse the offer I
have made to you, and they shall be searched into and examined with
but one end in view--punishment. Accept it, and all that has passed
between us in connection with these matters shall be buried forever.
You will know how best to decide. I give you"--he took out his
watch--"five minutes to decide. Your fate and future are in your own
hands."
Then there was silence. With his back turned to Mr. Manners, Mark
Inglefield debated with himself. He knew that the matters to which Mr.
Manners referred would not bear investigation, and that he was in
danger of the criminal dock; he knew that Mr. Manners would show him
no mercy. He shrugged his shoulders savagely, and said:
"What do you call a competence?"
"It shall be decided between you and my lawyers at three o'clock
to-morrow afternoon, by which time they will have received my
instructions. You have barely half a minute to arrive at a decision. I
am inexorable."
"I accept your offer," said Mark Inglefield.
"You will find Miss Parkinson in her father's home. There must be no
delay. Farewell."
At nine o'clock the following morning Mr. Manners sat at breakfast
with Kingsley, Nansie, and Hester. There were no traces of fatigue on
Mr. Manners's face; on the contrary, it looked fresh and young. A new
and better life was before him. Mr. Loveday, the good old book-man,
kept purposely away; he would not intrude upon a meeting which he
deemed had something sacred in it. And indeed it had. Hearts that
should never have been separated were united, and love shone within
the little room.
It was a humble meal, but the sweetest that Mr. Manners had tasted for
many, many years. Nansie's face was bright, and now and then her lips
were wreathed in happy smiles, and now and then her eyes were filled
with tears. And so we leave them. Flowers are blossoming; there is
good in the future to be done.
It may be, also, in the future, that Hester Manners and Timothy Chance
may come together for weal or woe. Words have yet to be spoken, but in
their hearts love has already found its nest. May their lives be as
sweet and pure as the lives of Kingsley and Nansie! There will be
manna for the hungry, and light will be shed upon the dark spaces of
the East.
THE END.