LIGHT.
Not to Miss Bettina, however, did Captain Davenal at once take
his way, but to Parliament Street. The revelation of Sara that
morning--that the one dark episode in his own past history had been
known to Oswald Cray--was troubling Edward Davenal's mind far more
than any sense of the inconvenience wrought by Mr. Neal.
They stood together in Oswald's sitting-room, the doors closed. A few
words of greeting on both sides, and then the captain plunged
wholesale, without any ceremony or preparation, into the object which
had brought him.
"I have come to ask you a question," he began, dropping his voice to a
confidential whisper. "How did you become acquainted with that
miserable business of mine?"
"With what miserable business?" returned Oswald, in surprise.
"Don't you recall what I mean? That affair that swamped me. Or, I'm
sure I may better say, swamped my father. The--the--those bills, you
know."
Oswald did not know in the least. And said so.
"Hang it, Cray," exclaimed the captain, "why force a man to speak out?
Those forged bills that I put into circulation, and couldn't get back
again."
"I protest I do not know what you are talking of," returned Oswald. "I
don't understand what it is you would ask me."
"I only ask how you became acquainted with the affair."
"I never was acquainted with the affair: with any affair such as you
allude to," persisted Oswald. "I am not acquainted with it now."
"Do you mean to say that you did not become cognisant of that dreadful
trouble I got into before leaving England?--The signing of those
bills?"
"I never heard of it in my life. I never heard, or knew, that you were
in any trouble whatever."
Captain Davenal sat staring at Oswald. How reconcile this denial with
Sara's positive assurance of an hour ago? "You are telling me truth?"
he cried, with a perplexed air.
"Entire truth," said Oswald. "Why should I not?"
"What then could Sara mean?" debated Captain Davenal aloud. "She tells
me that you did know of it."
"Sara tells you so?"
"She does. She says that--I don't see that I need scruple to
speak," broke off Captain Davenal, "it's all over and done with, I
suppose--Sara says it was your knowledge of the affair that caused the
breaking off of the engagement between yourself and her."
Oswald Cray was silent. A doubt crossed him of whether the gallant
captain could have received some sabre-cut or sunstroke in India which
had affected his brain. Captain Davenal noted his puzzled look, and
strove to be more explanatory.
"When you and I were returning to town from Hallingham the night of
Caroline's wedding, you hinted that there existed an attachment or
engagement between you and Sara. For the first time I spoke of this
to Sara this morning. She admitted that something of the kind had
existed, but said it was over; and I saw that the subject was
painful--one she wished to avoid. So I dropped it. Afterwards, in
speaking of this worse business of mine, I observed that it had been
known to three people only: my father, Alfred King, and Sara; but Sara
interrupted me, saying that it was known to Oswald Cray. I disputed
the fact; I said it _could not_ have been known to you, but she
persisted in her assertion, and finally confessed that it was in
consequence of its coming to your knowledge that you broke off the
engagement to her, deeming she was not worthy, as my sister, to become
your wife. Pardon me yet a moment while I state that I am not here to
question the decision; I don't wish to enter upon it at all, except to
say that many would have done as you did, after what _I_, her brother,
had been guilty of. All _that_ is apart from the business, and I am
only telling you how it came out. Sara assures me that it was the sole
cause of breaking off the engagement, and that you must have known of
it almost as soon as--as my father knew. Now, I want you to tell me,
Mr. Oswald Cray, how and whence that affair came to your knowledge.
Have I made myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear, so far as explanation goes; but it is nothing but
obscurity to me, for all that. In the first place, allow me to repeat
to you that I never knew before now that you were in any trouble
whatever. This is my first intimation of it."
"And was it not that knowledge that caused you and Sara to part?"
"It was not. How could it have been when I assure you I did not
possess the knowledge? A--a great trouble, of which I would prefer not
to speak, did lead to the parting, but it was entirely unconnected
with you."
"Well, this is Greek," returned Captain Davenal. "There was no other
trouble connected with the family, except mine. I suppose you mean
that it was connected with them?"
"Yes."
"With which of them? There was no scapegoat in it except me."
"It was connected with Dr. Davenal," said Oswald reluctantly. "I
cannot say more."
"With my father? Nonsense, if you mean anything wrong. A more upright
man never breathed. Fancy him sending forth bad bills!"
"I could not fancy him doing so," replied Oswald. "The matter had
nothing to do with money."
"I'll lay all I am worth it had to do with me, with my business,"
impulsively spoke Captain Davenal. "I will tell you how it was----"
"Nay, it is not worth while," was Oswald Cray's interruption, as he
thought how very different a thing was Lady Oswald's unhappy death
from the topics under discussion. "Believe me, you had not, and could
not have had, anything to do with the real question."
"But I'll tell you, now I have begun. I and my choice friend,
as I thought him then,"--Captain Davenal spoke with scornful
bitterness,--"got into an awful mess together, and could not get out
of it. No matter whether it was gambling or horse-racing, or what not;
money we were compelled to have. King assured me on his honour that in
three weeks' time he should be in the possession of several thousand
pounds, if we could only stave off exposure until then, and in an evil
hour I yielded to his persuasion and wrote my father's name. The
suggestion was King's, the persuasion was King's, the full assurance
that all would be well was King's. I don't say this in extenuation of
myself; the guilt and madness of yielding were all mine. Well, the
days went on, and when the time came, and the thing was on the point
of exploding, King had not got the thousands he had counted on:
moreover, I found that his expectation of getting them had been from
the first very vague indeed, and we had a desperate quarrel. The sneak
turned round; threatened me with exposure, with ruin, and I had to go
down and confess the truth to my father. He saved me--saved me at the
sacrifice of all he had, and, I fear, of his life."
There was a pause. Oswald had grown strangely interested. Captain
Davenal continued.
"I shall never forget the effect it had upon him--never, never. I
speak only of the hour of the communication; I never saw him after
that. I told him there might be trouble with these bills, to get them
at all; that even with the money in hand to redeem them I was not sure
the consequences could be averted from me. I saw the change pass over
his face; the grey, scared look; and it did not quit it again."
"Where did you see him?"
"At Hallingham. I went down at some peril, after leave had been
refused me at headquarters, getting to Hallingham about eleven o'clock
on a Sunday night. I stayed an hour or so with my father in his study,
and then went back to the station again, for I had to be at my post on
duty the following morning. No one at home knew of my visit. I tapped
at my father's study window and he let me in. Before I left, I asked
to see Sara. I knew quite well, though they did not, that I should not
go down again, and I did not care to leave for years without saying a
word to her, so my father fetched her down from her room. We did not
tell her the particulars, only that I had been doing something wrong,
was in danger, and that my visit to Hallingham must be kept quiet. My
poor father! I remember his asking in a burst of feeling what he had
done that all this trouble should fall upon him. Another great trouble
had befallen him that night in the death of Lady Oswald."
"Yes?" said Oswald with a calm manner but a beating heart. His
thoughts were in that long past night, and Neal's description of it.
"It was very dreadful," resumed Captain Davenal, alluding to the
matter of Lady Oswald. "My father was sadly cut up. Mark Cray had
killed her through administering the chloroform."
Oswald felt his heart stand still, his face flush with a burning heat.
He moved nearer to Captain Davenal: but his voice was quiet still.
"Did you say _Mark_ administered the chloroform?"
"It was Mark. Yes. My father said he had especially forbidden Mark
Cray to give her chloroform. Mark in the course of the day had
proposed doing it, but the doctor warned him that chloroform would not
do for Lady Oswald. When all was ready, he (my father) had to carry
Lady Oswald's maid from the chamber in a fainting-fit, and when he got
back to it he found Mark had administered the chloroform, which he had
taken with him to the house surreptitiously, and was commencing the
operation. The doctor said he could not make out Mark Cray that night.
He was beginning the operation in so unskilful, so unsurgeon-like a
manner, that my father had to push him away as he would have pushed a
child, and perform it himself. But they could not recover Lady
Oswald."
Oswald made no remark. He felt as one stunned.
"It struck me as being a most shocking thing," continued Captain
Davenal. "I remarked to my father that it seemed like murder, and he
said Yes, he supposed the world would call it such."
"But why did not Dr. Davenal declare the truth--that it was Mark who
had given the chloroform?" interrupted Oswald. "Why suffer himself to
rest under the imputation?"
"What imputation? There was no imputation to lie under. All the world
supposed the chloroform had been rightly and properly administered,
according to the best judgment of both of them."
True; true. Oswald Cray had been speaking in accordance with his own
private knowledge, not with publicly-known facts.
"My father kept the secret for Mark Cray's sake. If it went forth to
the world, he said it would blight Mark's professional career for
life. He told me the facts, but he intended to keep them from all
others, and he warned me not to divulge them. I never did. I am not
sure that I should feel justified in telling even you now, but that
Mark is no longer in his profession. My poor father made the remark
that they were two heavy secrets for his breast to keep, mine and Mark
Cray's."
The murmur of the words fell upon Oswald's ear, but he was as one who
heard them not. A weighty amount of self-reproach was rising up within
him. Captain Davenal talked on, and then hastened away, for he had Mr.
Neal to settle with yet, leaving Oswald alone.
The scales, so long obscuring Oswald Cray's eyes, had fallen from
them, and he saw the past in its true colours. The one wondering
question that seemed to press upon him now was, how he could ever have
doubted Dr. Davenal. Above his own self-reproach; above the bitter
feeling of repentance for the wrong he had dealt out to her whom he
best loved on earth; above his regrets for the late years wasted in a
miserable illusion; was his remorse for having so misjudged that good
man, misjudged him even to his grave. He saw it all now: how, when he
questioned Dr. Davenal about his motives for administering the fatal
medicine, he had taken the odium upon himself for Mark's sake: not
even to him, his brother, would he, in his loving-kindness, betray
Mark.
Never had the pride, the self-esteem, of Oswald Cray received a
blow like unto this. He had plumed himself on his superiority; he had
cast off Dr. Davenal as one unworthy of him; he had dared, in his
self-sufficiency, to cast off Sara. Her father was a man of suspicion,
and therefore she was no fit mate for him! Whereas, Oswald now learnt
that it was his own brother who was the offender: Dr. Davenal and his
daughter were the victims. The full value, the Christian conduct of
that good man was patent to him now; the patient endurance of Sara
became clear to him.
He lifted his hat and wiped the moisture from his brow, as he walked
through the streets, all these considerations doing battle in his
brain. The winter's day was cold, but Oswald's brow was hot; hot with
inward fever. He was on his way to Miss Davenal's, to seek a
conference with his half-brother: there were one or two questions he
would put to him. He had taken his hat and come out the moment Captain
Davenal left him: business and all else gave way before this.