THE GALLANT CAPTAIN HOME AGAIN.
Captain Davenal and his wife had been expected in England in
December--as you have heard; but the time went on, and February was at
its close before they arrived. They had been compelled to land at the
Cape in consequence of the illness of Mrs. Davenal, and had to remain
there some time. She had come into a very large fortune on the death
of her father; a considerable portion of it was settled upon her, and
the rest, a munificent sum, lapsed to her husband. So Captain Edward
Davenal was once more at his ease in this world of changes.
Gay, handsome, free, sunny, it might have been thought that not an
hour's care had ever been upon him. No allusion to a certain dark
episode of the past escaped his lips when he and his sister met: there
were no signs that he so much as remembered such a trouble had ever
been. They were the present guests of Lady Reid, and would remain so
for a short time: It was Captain Davenal's intention to take a
furnished house for a term. His leave of absence was for two years;
but they did not care to be stationary in London the whole of the
period. Sara was charmed with his wife: a gentle, yielding, pretty
thing, looking so young as to be a girl still, and dividing her love
between her husband and infant son, a fine young gentleman born at the
Cape. A dread fear assailed Sara Davenal's heart as she looked upon
her; for that curious matter, touching the young woman who claimed to
be connected with Captain Davenal, had never been cleared up. Not
since the previous December had Sara once observed her approach the
house: but she had twice seen her in conversation with Neal at the end
of the street, the last time being the very day of the arrival of
Captain Davenal. It was altogether strange in Sara's opinion if the
young woman fancied she really had a legal claim of the nature she
mentioned on Captain Davenal, why had she not asserted it openly? If
she had no such claim, if she were an impostor, for what purpose had
she put the claim forth? There had been no demand for silence-money;
no attempt at extortion. However it might be, Sara's duty was plain,
now Captain Davenal had arrived--to acquaint him with the
circumstances.
"I have some papers to give you," Sara whispered to her brother at
Lady Reid's, the night of his arrival there.
"Papers? O yes, I suppose so. I shall be with you tomorrow."
So he had not quite forgotten the affair. On the conclusion of the
matter with Mr. Alfred King Sara had sealed up certain papers and
receipts according to the written directions of Dr. Davenal; and these
she waited to put into her brother's hand.
Mrs. Cray was with them still. She had taken to her bedroom entirely
now, and was gradually dying. Mark was with her. His difficulty with
the Great Wheal Bang's shareholders, and particularly with that one
cautious shareholder who had saluted Mark so unpolitely on his landing
from Havre, was virtually over: Mark enjoyed liberty of person again,
and things were in process of adjustment. Miss Davenal so far overcame
her repugnance to Mark as to allow him to be in her house, but it was
only in consideration of Caroline's dying state. They could do nothing
for her. They painted her clothes with iodine as she lay on the sofa
day after day before the chamber fire; it was the only thing that
brought any alleviation to the pain.
It happened that Captain Davenal's first visit to the house was paid
at an opportune moment, in so far as that his interview with his
sister was free from fear of interruption. Miss Davenal had gone to
Lady Reid's, to see and welcome the travellers. Neal was in attendance
upon her, and Caroline was asleep. Mark Cray was in the City; he had
to go there frequently, in connection with the winding-up of the
company of the Great Wheal Bang.
Captain Davenal came in, all joyous carelessness, telling Dorcas, who
admitted him, that she looked younger and handsomer than ever: and
poor Dorcas--who was not young at all, and had never been handsome in
her life--felt set up in vanity for a month to come. Sara was in the
drawing-room. It was the first time of their being alone, and Captain
Davenal held her before him and scanned her face.
"What has made you get so thin?"
"Am I thin?" she returned.
"Dreadfully so. I have been telling Dorcas that she's handsomer than
ever, but I can't say the same of you. What is the cause, Sara?"
"I think people do get thin in London," she replied with some evasion.
"But let me be rid of my charge, Edward."
She went to her bedroom and brought down Dr. Davenal's desk. To
Edward's surprise he saw that it was bound round with a broad tape and
sealed. When Sara had placed the papers in the desk, received from Mr.
Alfred King, she had immediately sealed up the desk in this manner; a
precaution against its being opened.
"What's that for?" exclaimed Captain Davenal, in his quick way, as he
recognised the desk and to whom it had belonged. "Did my father leave
it so?"
Sara replied by telling him her suspicions of the desk's having been
opened; and that she had deemed it well to secure it against any
future inroads when once these papers were inclosed in it.
"But who would touch the desk?" he asked. "For what purpose? Was young
Dick at home at the time?"
"Dick was not at home. But Dick would not touch a desk. I would not
answer for Dick where a jam cupboard is concerned; but in anything of
consequence Dick's as honourable as the day. I suspected Neal,
Edward."
"Neal!"
"I did. I feel half-ashamed to say so. Do you remember telling me that
papa had a suspicion or doubt whether Neal had not visited some of his
letters?"
"I remember it. I thought my father was wrong. Neal! Why, Sara, I'd as
soon suspect myself."
"Well, I can only tell you the truth--that when I found cause to fear
this desk had been surreptitiously opened, my doubts turned to Neal.
You see, we have no one about us but him and Dorcas; and Dorcas I am
certain is trustworthy. But I admit that it was in consequence of what
you told me that I cast any doubt on Neal. However it may have been, I
deemed it well to secure the desk afterwards."
She had been opening the desk as she spoke, and she took from it a
sealed packet and handed it to Captain Davenal. He opened it at once;
glanced over its contents, two or three papers, one by one, and
slightly drew in his lips.
"What a shame!" he burst forth.
She did not like to ask questions. She only looked at him.
"That they should have _bled_ my father in this manner. Scoundrels! I
was away, therefore the game was in their own hands. Did you read
these papers, Sara?"
"I was obliged to read them; to see that they tallied with copies that
papa had left. He left written instructions that I should do so."
"To whom was this money paid?"
"To Mr. Alfred King. Don't you see the receipts?"
"I'd walk ten miles before breakfast any morning to see the fellow
hung. It's what he'll come to."
"He told me that he and you had once been friends," she said in a
half-whisper.
"And so we were. I believed in the fellow: I had no suspicion that he
was a villain, and I let him draw me into things from which I could
not extricate myself. I was a fool; and I had to pay for it."
In Sara's inmost heart there arose unbidden a rebellious thought: that
others had had to pay for it; not Captain Davenal.
"Did it affect my father's health, this business?" he inquired in a
low tone.
"I fear it did," she replied, feeling that she could not avoid the
confession. "I am sure it affected him mentally. There was a great
change in him from that night."
Captain Davenal folded the papers slowly, and pushed them into his
waistcoat pocket in his usual careless fashion. "What a fool I was!"
he muttered; "and what a rogue was that other!"
"Are they safe there, Edward?"
"Safe enough until I get home. They will be burnt then, except this
final receipt. Oh, if my father had but lived! I could at least have
repaid him his pecuniary lose. It took all he left behind him I
suppose, to satisfy it?"
"Yes; all."
"He told me he feared it would, or nearly all, in the letter he wrote
me when he was dying. Did things realise well?"
"No, very badly. There was not enough to satisfy the claim by two
hundred pounds. Finally, Aunt Bettina advanced that."
"Does she know of this?" he exclaimed, in a startled tone.
"No, I kept it from her. It was difficult to do, but I contrived it."
"You were a brave girl, my sister! I don't know who would have acted
as you have! All this trouble upon you, and never to worry me with it
in your letters!--never to ask me for money to help in the need!"
"I thought you had none to give," she simply said.
"True enough: I had none; but most sisters would have asked for it. I
shall repay at once Aunt Bettina; I shall repay, more gradually, to
you the half of what my father possessed before this trouble was
brought by me upon him. What do you say?--my wife's money? Tush, child!
Do you know the amount of the fortune we have come into? It will be
but a drop of water in the ocean of that amount. If I did not repay it
to you, she would."
Sara looked up.
"My wife knows all. I told her every word."
"O Edward! Before your marriage!"
"Not before. I suppose I ought to have done so, but it would have
taken a greater amount of moral courage than I possessed. I _couldn't_
risk the losing her. I told her, partially, a short time after our
marriage: the full particulars I did not give her until last night."
Last night! Sara was surprised.
"She fell in love with you yesterday, Sara, and I thought well to let
her know what you really were--how true you had been to me."
Sara was silent. It was in her nature to be true; and, as she
believed, it was in her nature to _be able_ to suffer.
"There were times when I felt tempted to wish I had stayed at home and
battled with it," resumed Captain Davenal, after a pause. "But in that
case the scandal would probably have gone forth to the world. As it
was, no living being knew of it, save you and my father."
"And Mr. Alfred King," she said. Another name also occurred to her,
but she did not mention it--that of Oswald Cray.
"Alfred King? Sara, my dear, I don't care to enter into particulars
with you, but he was with me in the mess; more morally guilty, though
less legally so, than I was. _He_ has never told it, I can answer for,
for his own sake."
"He always spoke to me of being only a sort of agent in the affair,"
she said. "He intimated that the money was due to other parties."
"Was due from himself, then. But it is over and done with: let it
drop. And now, Sara, you must allow me to ask you a personal question:
are you still engaged to Oswald Cray?"
The demand was so unexpected, the subject so painful, that Sara felt
the life-blood leave her heart for her face. "I am not engaged to
Oswald Cray," she said in a low tone. "I--I cannot say that I ever was
engaged to him."
A pause. "But--surely there was some attachment?"
"A little: in the old days. It is very long ago now. How did you know
of it?"
"Oswald Cray himself told me. It was the evening we went up to town
together after Caroline's wedding. He knew I was going out immediately
with the regiment, and he gave me a hint of how it was between you.
Only a hint; nothing more. I suppose--I suppose," more slowly added
Captain Davenal, "that this miserable business of mine broke it off. I
conclude that when Oswald found at my father's death that you had no
money he declined the compact. It's the way of the world."
"Not so. No. I do not think money or the want of it, would have any
influence on Oswald Cray. In this case it certainly had not. We had
parted before papa died."
"What then was the cause, Sara?"
Should she tell him?--that it was his conduct broke it off? Better
not, perhaps; it could do no earthly good and would be only adding
pain to pain.
"It is a thing of the past now, Edward; let it remain so. The cause
that parted us was one that could not be got over. We are friends
still, though we do not often meet. More than that we can never be."
Captain Davenal was sorry to hear it. Thoughtless and imprudent as he
was by nature himself, he could not but be aware of the value of
Oswald Cray. Such a man would make the happiness--and guard it--of any
woman.
"I think I had better mention one fact to you, Edward," she resumed,
after some moments given to the matter in her own mind. "You have been
assuming that no one was cognisant of that business of yours, except
papa, myself, and Mr. Alfred King; but----"
"No other living soul was cognisant of it," interrupted Captain
Davenal. "My father's promptitude stopped it."
"Oswald Cray knew of it."
"Impossible!" he said, recovering from a pause of surprise.
"He did indeed. I am not sure that he knew the exact particulars, but
he knew a very great deal. I believe--I fancy--that he had gathered
even a worse impression of it than the case actually warranted."
Captain Davenal was incredulous. "From whom did he learn it?"
"I cannot tell you. I have always feared that, as he knew it, it must
have been known to others."
"I tell you, Sara, that beyond you and my father, and King, nobody in
the world knew of it. You are under some mistake. Oswald Cray could
not have known of it."
"Nay then, Edward, as it has come so far I will tell you the truth.
Oswald Cray did know of it, and it was that, and nothing else, that
caused us to part. He--he thought, after that, that I was no fit wife
for him," she added in a low tone of pain. "And in truth I was not."
A pause of distress. "Unfit as my sister?"
"Yes. I suppose he feared that the crime might at any time be
disclosed to the world."
"But _how_ could he have known it?" reiterated Captain Davenal, the
one surprise overwhelming every other emotion in his mind. "King I
_know_ would not tell; for his own sake he dared not: and we may be
very sure my father did not. He sacrificed himself to retain it a
secret."
"That Oswald Cray knew of it I can assure you," she repeated. "He must
have known of it as soon--or almost as soon--as we did. From that
night that you came down to Hallingham in secret his behaviour
changed; and a little later, when a sort of explanation took place
between us, he spoke to me of what had come to his knowledge. I know
no more."
"Well, it is beyond my comprehension," said Captain Davenal; "it
passes belief. Good Heavens! if Oswald Cray knew it, where's my
security that others do not? I must look into this."
He was about to go off in impulsive haste, probably to seek Oswald
Cray, but Sara detained him. The uncertain doubt, the dread lying most
heavy on her heart, was not spoken yet.
"Don't go, Edward. You will regard me as a bird of ill-omen, I fear,
but I have something to say to you on a subject as unpleasant as this,
though of a totally different nature."
"No crime, I hope," he remarked in a joking tone, as he reseated
himself. It was utterly impossible for Edward Davenal to remain sober
and serious long.
"It would be a crime--if it were true."
"Well, say on, Sara: I am all attention. I have been guilty of a
thousand and one acts of folly in my life; never but of one crime. And
that I was drawn into."
Captain Davenal did right to bid her "say on," for she seemed to have
no inclination to say anything; or else to be uncertain in what words
to clothe it. It was a decidedly unpleasant topic, and her colour went
and came.
"I would not mention it, Edward, if I were not obliged; if I did not
fear consequences for you now you have come home," she begun. "It has
been weighing me down a long, long while, and I have had to bear it,
saying nothing----"
"Has some private debt turned up against me?" he cried hastily. "I
thought I had not one out in the European world. I'll settle it
tomorrow, Sara, whatever it may be."
"It is not debt at all. It is----"
Sara stopped, partly with emotion, partly from her excessive
reluctance to approach the topic. Should it prove to be altogether
some mistake, a feeling of shame would rest upon her for having
whispered it.
"It's what? Why don't you go on?"
"I must go on if I am to tell you," she resumed, rallying her courage.
"Did you ever, before you went out--_marry_ anybody?"
"Did I--what?" he returned, looking up with an exceedingly amused
expression on his face.
"O Edward, you heard."
"If I heard I did not understand. What do you mean? Why do you ask me
so foolish a question?"
"You have not answered it," she continued in a low voice.
Captain Davenal noted for the first time the changing hue of her face,
the troubled eye, the shrinking, timid manner. His mood changed to
seriousness.
"Sara, what _do_ you mean? Did I marry anybody before I went out, you
ask? I neither married anybody, nor promised marriage. I--Halloa! you
don't mean that I am about to have a breach of promise brought against
me?"
The notion was so amusing to Captain Davenal that he burst into a
laugh. Sara shook her head; and when his laugh had subsided she bent
her cheek upon her hand, and related to him, calmly and quietly, what
had occurred. The Captain was excessively amused: he could not be
brought to regard the tale in any other light than as a joke.
"What do you say the lady's name was? Catherine what?"
"Catherine Wentworth."
"Catherine Wentworth?" he deliberated. "I never heard the name before
in my life; never knew any one bearing it. Why, Sara, you do not mean
to say this has seriously troubled you?"
"It has very seriously troubled me. At times, what with one dread and
another, I seemed to have more upon me than I could bear. I had no one
to whom I could tell the trouble and the doubt: I dared not write it
to you, lest your wife should get hold of the letter."
"And if she had? What then?"
"If she had?" repeated Sara. "Do you forget the charge?"
"It's too laughable for me to forget it. Rose would have laughed at it
with me. Sara, my dear, rely upon it this has arisen from some queer
mistake."
His open countenance, the utter absence of all symptom of fear, the
cool manner in which he treated it, caused Sara to breathe a sigh of
relief. Half her doubts had vanished.
"The strange thing is, why she should make the charge--why she should
say she was your wife. It was not done to extort money, for she has
never asked for a farthing. She said papa knew of the marriage."
"Did she?" was the retort, delivered lightly. "Did she tell all this
to you?"
"Not to me. I have never spoken to her; I told you so. What I have
learnt, I learnt through Neal."
Captain Davenal paused in reflection. "Who knows but that gentleman
may be at the bottom of it?" he said at length. "If he opens desks--I
don't say he does, I say _if_ he does--he might get up this tale."
"And his motive?" returned Sara, not agreeing with the proposition.
"Nay, I don't know."
"But Neal did not come forward with the tale. It was in consequence of
what I accidentally heard her say that I questioned Neal; and I must
do him the justice to declare that it was with very great reluctance
he would answer me. I heard Neal tell her, apparently in answer to a
question, that there was no doubt Captain Davenal was married; that he
had married a Miss Reid, an heiress. She replied that she would have
satisfaction, no matter what punishment it brought him (you) to."
"And Neal afterwards assured you that she was Captain Davenal's wife?"
"Neal assured me that _she said_ she was. Neal himself said he did not
believe her to be so; he thought there must be some mistake. She
declared she had been married to you nearly a twelvemonth before you
quitted Europe, and that Dr. Davenal knew of it."
"The story-telling little hussy!"
"Edward, I confess to you that I never so much as thought of its not
being true in that first moment! I think fear must have taken
possession of me and overpowered my judgment."
"You should have written to me, Sara."
"I have told you why I did not: lest the letter should fall into the
hands of your wife. And I believe that a dread of its truth made me
shrink from approaching it. That very same day I saw the young person
come out of the War Office. I did not know, and don't know, whether it
is the proper place to lodge complaints against officers, but I
supposed she had been to lodge one against you."
"And you have seen her here since, at the house?"
"Occasionally. She has never been troublesome. She has come,
apparently, to say a word or two to Neal. I have never questioned him
upon the visits: I have dreaded the subject too much. Only yesterday I
saw Neal speaking with her at the corner of the street."
"Well, Sara, I shall sift this."
She lifted her head. "Yes?"
"I shall. It would _not_ have been pleasant had the rumour reached the
ears of my wife."
He walked to the window and stood there a moment or two, a flush upon
his face, a frown upon his brow. When he turned round again he was
laughing.
"Did Aunt Bett hear of this!"
"O no."
"_She'd_ have taken it for granted it was true. Had anybody told her
in the old days that I had married sixteen wives, and then set the
town on fire with a lighted torch, Aunt Bett would have believed it of
me. But, Sara, I am surprised at you."
She glanced at him with a faint smile: not liking to say that the
dreadful business, the secret of that past night, which had no doubt
helped to send Dr. Davenal to his grave, had, at the time, somewhat
shaken her faith in her gallant brother. But for that terrible blow,
she had never given a moment's credit to this.