A MIRACLE
That same afternoon Raston notified the vicar that he was going for a
few days to London. On the understanding that the young man would be
back for morning service on Sunday, the vicar readily consented that he
should go. Raston forthwith packed his bag, and driving to Portfront
stayed there the night. But for Sybil's message he would have waited
until the next day, and have gone directly to London without pausing on
the way. However, he wished to have a talk with Leo, both on account of
Sybil's message and because he wanted to consult with the young man
about the letter which worried him. This entailed a long conversation,
so Raston put up at the hotel at which Leo was staying, and sent a
message that he wanted to see Mr Haverleigh.
Leo made his appearance, looking haggard and worried, and very much
unlike his usual self. He seemed nervous on seeing Raston, and hurriedly
approached him as though he expected to hear bad news. The events of the
last few weeks had shaken Leo's nerves, and he was prepared for any
calamity--even to hear that Pratt had been arrested. Something of the
sort he expected to hear now.
"Hullo, Raston!" he cried, with an affectation of brightness. "What
brings you here?"
"I am on my way to London," said Raston, shaking hands in a friendly
fashion, "and I am staying here for the night, as I want to have a long
talk with you."
"Very glad," replied Leo, mechanically. Then after a pause he raised his
head. "There is no bad news, I trust?" he asked anxiously.
"By no means. My news is good."
"Then it cannot concern me," said Leo, bitterly. "No good news ever
comes my way now. What is it?"
"I'll tell you after dinner."
"No; tell me now! I can't wait. I am so anxious and worried that my mind
cannot bear suspense."
"You brood too much on things," said Raston. "However, the matter is
very simple. Miss Tempest wants you to return at once to Colester."
"What for? Has her father discovered anything bad about me?"
Raston laughed. "No. You are getting morbid on the subject--the result,
I suppose, of your late experience of man's injustice. If you will sit
down I will tell you what she asked me to say. It is a long story."
"An agreeable one, I hope," muttered Leo, dropping dejectedly into a
chair. "I really cannot bear much more worry without going to chuck
myself into the water."
"Haverleigh," said the curate, severely, "that is an ungrateful way to
speak, after the mercy God has shown you. Has he not brought you
through much tribulation, and set your feet on a rock of safety!"
"Well, there are two answers to that, Raston. However, I'll try and
behave myself while you tell me what Sybil said."
Raston sighed. Not knowing Leo's worry, he was beginning to think him
wrong to behave as he did. Still, this was not the time to preach, and,
unlike most clergymen, Raston knew where to stop. He sat down near Leo
and related the whole story of Lord Kilspindie and his loss. Then he
detailed Sybil's idea that Kilspindie might do something for the young
man. "And if your future is arranged you can then be married."
"I shall never be married, Raston," said Leo, gloomily. "If you
knew--But I must keep my own counsel. What takes you to London?" he
asked suddenly. "You are such a home bird that there must be some strong
reason."
"The very strongest," replied the curate, drawing a letter out of his
pocket. "But first you must promise to hold your tongue about what I am
going to tell you."
Leo nodded. "I have too many unpleasant secrets of my own not to keep
those of others," he said. "Well, what's up?"
"Read this letter from Pratt."
"Pratt!" Haverleigh took the letter hurriedly. "Why, what is he writing
to you about?" He cast his eyes over the letter. It was to the effect
that Pratt would be glad to see Raston at a certain place in London to
speak with him about the cup which had been lost. It asked the curate to
keep the contents of the letter a secret, or at all events to tell only
Leo Haverleigh. Also, it warned Raston that if he behaved treacherously,
and brought down the police on Pratt, that there would be the devil to
pay. These last words were underlined and shocked the curate. The time
and place of the appointment were also underlined, and from the way in
which the meeting was arranged Leo could see that his father had
contrived to see Raston without running the risk of arrest.
"I wonder what he wants to see you about!" said Leo, handing back the
letter and speaking uneasily. He fancied that Pratt might be going to
reveal to Raston the secret of his own paternity.
"About the cup," said Raston, returning the letter to his pocket. "I
suppose he is about to give it back to us again. Not that it will ever
be used again for so sacred a purpose. I shall take it and return it to
Lord Kilspindie. That is only right, as the cup was stolen from him."
"Ah, I forgot! You think that Pratt has the cup?" said Leo.
"He has. Do you not remember the letter he wrote to Marton saying he had
stolen the cup and again had it in his possession?"
"I remember; but that was one of Pratt's fairy tales."
"How do you know?" asked Raston, astonished. "Has he written to you?"
"No. I have seen him."
"In London?"
"In Colester."
Raston pushed back his chair and stared at his friend. "When did you see
him in Colester?" he asked, open-mouthed.
"A few days ago." Leo pondered for a moment while Raston stared at him.
He wondered if it would not be as well to make a confidant of the
curate, and ask his advice. The secret was rapidly becoming too much for
him to bear alone. Raston was his friend, a good fellow, and a wise
young man. Certainly it would be well to confide in him. Leo made up his
mind. "I have to tell you something that will astonish you. I speak in
confidence, Raston."
"Anything you tell me will be sacred," replied the curate, with dignity.
Leo nodded, quite satisfied with this assurance. Then he related all
that had taken place in the castle on that night when he had discovered
Mrs Gabriel and Pratt in company. Raston fairly gasped with surprise as
the recital proceeded, and when Leo confessed that Pratt claimed him as
a son he sprang from his seat.
"I don't believe a word of it!" he cried, bringing his fist down on the
table. "The man is a vile liar. Whomsoever you may be, Leo, you are
certainly not the son of this wretch. Can a bad tree bear good fruit?
No."
"But he can give me proofs."
"He has not done so yet. Let me speak to him, Leo. I may be able to get
more out of him than you. I am your friend, you know that! so if you
will place the matter in my hands, I promise to find out the truth
somehow."
"Well," said Leo, with some hesitation, "I rather thought of coming with
you to London. Pratt expects me."
"He has not written to that effect," said Raston. "I tell you, Leo, the
man is dangerous and unscrupulous. The fact that he claims you as his
son will prevent you dealing freely with him. I can manage him better
myself. You go back to Colester and Miss Tempest. It is but right that
you should do what she wishes, as she has held by you in your time of
trouble. Besides, I quite approve of her wish to introduce you to Lord
Kilspindie. And if--oh!--" Raston stopped short.
"What's the matter, Raston?"
"Suppose you should be the long-lost son of Lord Kilspindie?"
"Ridiculous!" said Leo, shaking his head and flushing.
"It is no more ridiculous than that you should be the son of a
thief--or, rather, believe yourself to be so. Why should you believe the
bad and doubt the good? See here, Leo"--Raston was much excited--"the
cup was lost along with the child. Pratt has the cup, why should you not
be the child? The woman who stole both might have died and passed them
on to Pratt. For his own purposes he says that he is your father."
"I can't believe it, Raston," said Leo, shaking his head.
"Well; disbelieve it if you choose. If the thing is so, what you think
will not alter it. All I ask is that you should let me represent you at
this interview. I have to see Pratt on my own account. Let me see him on
yours."
"Very good, Raston. You can do what you like. I am greatly obliged to
you for the trouble you are taking."
"Indeed, it is only right, Leo," protested the curate. "I begin to see
that you have been wronged. I may not be right in my surmise about your
being the son of Kilspindie. But I am sure that I am correct in saying
you are not the son of that scoundrel. Now, go back to Colester, hold
your tongue, and wait till I come back on Saturday."
"I'll do as you wish," said Leo, sadly; "but indeed I have no hope."
"I have," said the curate, emphatically, and the conversation ended.
The next day Raston departed by the steamer to London, _via_ Worthing,
and Leo returned to his old quarters at the Colester Arms. His meeting
with the curate had done him good, and although he did not adhere to
Raston's theory about his noble paternity, yet he felt more cheerful and
hopeful. He was particular as to his toilet, which, in his despair, he
had rather neglected of late, and went to the Vicarage. Sybil was away
with Pearl on the moor, the servant said. Leo would have followed, but
Mr Tempest caught sight of him, and insisted that he should enter and
be introduced to Lord Kilspindie. Leo willingly obeyed, as he was
anxious to see his supposed father according to Raston. He could not
help smiling when he was presented.
Kilspindie was taken by that smile. He saw before him a singularly
splendid young man, with a graceful, slender figure and a handsome face,
but best of all was the kindly look in the eyes. Kilspindie shook hands
heartily with Leo, and sighed as he thought that his lost son might be
just such another. Had he known of what Raston and the young man before
him had talked about on the previous night, he might have been more
particular in his inquiries, and might perchance have been brought to
think as Raston did. However, he knew nothing, Leo said nothing, and the
conversation resolved itself into the common-place. Tempest was kind to
Leo, Kilspindie was friendly, and the three got on very well.
Meanwhile, Sybil and Pearl were walking across the moor. After a time
they stopped at the turf altar erected by the mad girl, and she
explained to her companion the reason she had made such a place.
"The Master is angry with poor Pearl now," she said sadly, "and He has
taken the sacred cup from her. She is not good enough to keep it. But
when the Master is pleased, and will save Pearl from the Pit"--she
shuddered--"He will place the cup on this altar, and Pearl will bring it
back to the chapel. Then she will be saved and happy."
"But, Pearl, you must not think of God in this way. He is your Father,
and He loves you."
"He _did_ love Pearl, but He made her ill, and Mrs Jeal told Pearl that
she was wicked and in danger of the Worm."
"Pearl! Pearl! Do not believe that. Mrs Jeal is wrong. God loves you!"
"Why, then, did He make Pearl ill if He loved her? And why did He take
away the Holy Grail which Pearl watched over so carefully?"
"He did not take it away," said Sybil, hardly knowing what reply to
make.
"Yes, He did," persisted the poor, mad creature. "Pearl was not good
enough to keep it. But when she is good the cup will come down to earth
again."
"Do you think it is in heaven now, Pearl?"
"I am sure it is. No roof here to stop the cup from floating up to the
New Jerusalem. In the chapel it would have stayed, because the bad roof
kept it down, but here it went up and up and up to the sky."
Sybil did not know what to make of this talk. She soothed the girl as
much as she could and tried to bring her back to that old happy state of
mind which Mrs Jeal had destroyed with her gloomy Calvinistic creed. But
it was all of no use. Only the restoration of the cup would make Pearl
believe that she was good again. However, Sybil induced her to talk of
other things, of birds and flowers, and the poor creature was in a
quieter state of mind when Sybil brought her back to the cottage.
"I go every morning to the altar," said Pearl, as she went inside. "The
cup will come back when the Master is sorry for Pearl."
At this moment Mrs Jeal pulled her into the house and scolded her for
being away. When she saw Sybil she became more civil, but still behaved
in a covertly insolent manner. Sybil grew angry.
"You have behaved very wickedly in putting these ideas into Pearl's
head, Mrs Jeal," she said severely. "The poor creature is not
responsible. She does not understand."
"She understands more than you give her credit for, miss," retorted Mrs
Jeal, coolly, "and she is not fit to be left alone. But when I go away I
shall put her in an asylum."
"Indeed, you will do nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Tempest,
indignantly. "The poor thing would die. Liberty is all in all to her.
When are you going away?"
"I go with Sir Frank Hale, miss. I am going to be the maid of his
sister."
"I heard Sir Frank was leaving Colester," said Sybil, coldly, "and I
think it is the best thing he can do. When does he go, Mrs Jeal?"
"In a week, miss. I have got a good situation, miss, and I do not want
to be burdened with Pearl. She must go to an asylum."
"No, no! I shall take charge of her myself," said Sybil. "You leave her
to me, Mrs Jeal, and I'll look after her."
"Well, I might, miss; I'll see." Then, after a pause, Mrs Jeal asked,
"About that gentleman at your place, miss--will he stay long?"
"Only till the end of the week. I suppose you mean Lord Kilspindie?"
Mrs Jeal's wicked eyes blazed. "Yes, I mean him," she said, and gave an
unpleasant laugh. "Oh! so he goes at the end of the week! Well, miss,
before I take up my situation with Miss Hale, I'll come and see you
about Pearl. If you could take her I should be glad, but you'll find her
a nuisance."
"I don't think so," said Sybil, coldly. "When will you call?"
"After the departure of Lord Kilspindie," said Mrs Jeal, with another
wicked look, and went into the house. Sybil departed, wondering why the
woman had asked about Lord Kilspindie, and why she seemed afraid to meet
him. Had she been clever enough, she might have guessed the truth. As it
was the matter passed out of her mind.
After this there were some very pleasant evenings at the Vicarage. Leo
felt almost happy, in spite of his troubles. He could not as yet bring
himself to tell Sybil that he could never marry her. Besides, he was
hoping against hope that Raston would bring back some good news from
London. Not, indeed, that he (Leo Haverleigh) was the lost son of Lord
Kilspindie--that such good fortune should be his never entered Leo's
head--but that Pratt was not his father. Leo felt that he would rather
be proved to be illegitimate, as Mrs Gabriel had told the vicar he was,
than have such a father as the criminal, Pratt. Yet, at times he felt
sorry for the man. It was certain that he had in him some good
qualities. But whenever Leo thought of him as his father, he became
enraged against him. The thing was too horrible.
Lord Kilspindie took wonderfully to Leo, and this the vicar was pleased
to see. Owing to Leo's want of an honest name, he could not bring
himself to consent to the marriage, so he hoped that the Scotch lord
might take a fancy to the young man and carry him off. Thus Sybil would
be safe, and Leo would be provided for. Mr Tempest had evidently
forgotten his own youth, or he would have remembered that loving hearts
are not so easily severed. Leo and Sybil loved one another too well for
aught to come between them.
On Saturday night Raston returned. It was so late that Leo had not
expected him, so they did not meet until the next morning. Then it was
on the way to church.
"Well," Leo asked eagerly, "and what does my--what does Pratt say?"
"I'll tell you after service," said Raston, hastily. "At present I can't
think of these things."
"But one word, Raston," urged Leo. "Is Pratt my father?"
"No," replied the curate, emphatically, "he is not." And before Leo
could ask another question he ran off. Filled with joy at the
intelligence, but much bewildered, Leo went to church to offer up
thanks.
Kilspindie was also in church, and with Sybil, in the vicar's pew. Mr
Tempest allowed Raston to preach, as had been arranged, and took a very
minor part in the service. Indeed, he did little else but read the
lessons. The church was filled, as everyone was anxious to see Lord
Kilspindie. Mrs Bathurst was there, wondering if his lordship could be
induced to marry Peggy. She quite forgot that she had promised her
daughter's hand to the curate, and was already scheming to get at the
old nobleman. That he _was_ old did not matter to Mrs Bathurst. She
would have sold her daughter to anyone, provided the match was a good
one. And, curious to say, she would have considered that she had done
her duty as a mother. Her moral nature was decidedly warped.
The service was almost over, and the church-wardens were handing round
the bags for the collection when a sweet voice was heard singing in the
distance. Everyone recognised the voice--it was Pearl's--and the vicar,
kneeling at the communion table, looked rather disturbed. He knew the
eccentric ways of the girl, and he feared lest she might come in and
distract the attention of the congregation. And his fears were
fulfilled--Pearl, still singing, entered the church. The scandalised
church-wardens would have kept her out, but that she bore something
which made them open their eyes. The congregation also became aware of
Pearl's burden, and a gasp of astonishment went round. Still singing
some wild, vague melody, the mad girl walked slowly up the aisle,
bearing the sacred cup.
Lord Kilspindie did not see her until she was almost at the chancel
steps. He then gave a cry of astonishment, in spite of the building and
the occasion. Surely he might have been pardoned, for the fairy cup
upon which depended the fortunes of the Grants glittered before his
eyes. There was a dead silence. Everyone was too astonished to speak or
move. The vicar himself was staring from the communion table at this
miracle. But Raston, who had come down to receive the collection, stood
quietly waiting till the girl reached him. She came up singing, placed
the great gold cup in his hand and fell on her knees.
"The Master has forgiven Pearl," she said in a voice which could be
heard all over the church. "_She_ is saved and the cup will be here to
watch over for ever and ever. Amen. Amen." And she bowed her face in her
hands.
Raston paused for a moment in hesitation and glanced at the vicar, then
at Lord Kilspindie. Then he made up his mind, and walking up to the
altar, placed the cup in its old position. And there it glittered, all
gold and gems, with the sunlight striking down on it, until it became
almost too glorious to look upon. Lord Kilspindie stared, with tears in
his eyes. The cup would be his again and he would soon have his son. He
never doubted but that the restoration of the one was the prelude to the
discovery of the other.
Raston pronounced the Benediction and the organ broke forth into
jubilant music. Shortly the congregation streamed out. Everyone was much
excited. The old nobleman came out with Sybil, and they waited at the
porch for the vicar. Leo also was with them.
Suddenly a woman broke through the crowd in the churchyard. It was Mrs
Jeal, and she was seeking Pearl. In her haste she never noticed Lord
Kilspindie, until she almost ran into his arms. Suddenly he saw her
face, started, and made one stride forward to clutch her by the arm.
"The cup and then the heir!" he said loudly, while all looked on amazed.
"Janet Grant, where is my son, Lord Morven!"