But my nature would not permit me at such a crisis to remain passive
long. I must arouse myself and act. Calling the nurse to take my place,
I went to seek Mr. Bristed. I found him, as usual, in his library.
“Sir,” said I, “I am calm now; will you not explain to me this
frightful mystery? I will listen and thank you.”
He placed a chair for me to be seated, and taking my hand, said
gently:--
“Miss Reef--Agnes, you are too weak to hear this that you seek to know.”
“No, no,” I exclaimed, vehemently; “I am not weak; I must know all.”
He arose and paced the floor hurriedly for a few moments; then
muttering, “It is best--I will tell her,” he said:
“You have been surprised, no doubt, Agnes, at the frankness with which
I have expressed my opinion of Richard’s character--let me inform you
that he and I are not brothers. He is a half-brother, the offspring of
my father’s second marriage; though indeed I doubt if he have a right
to even that relationship. I have heard dark hints thrown out that my
father had been deceived, and that this child who claimed to be his son
should look in a lower quarter for his father. Richard’s mother was
not a woman of high moral principle, and he partakes of her nature. My
father provided for him well, but as I was the elder son the bulk of
his large property became mine by inheritance; but Richard has always
made the Hall his home when in England--indeed, he has a legal right
during his lifetime to the use of the room he occupies. He has not,
however, often availed himself of this right since I have had his son
Herbert under my protection.”
“His son Herbert?” I repeated, mechanically.
“Yes, poor child, his son; though the boy has always been taught to
call him uncle. Neither Richard nor myself desire the relationship to
be known, and it is only in hope of serving you that I reveal it.”
“Richard married?” I said, falteringly.
“Ah, Agnes, there are many women whom he should never have seen, as
he could not marry them,” said he, with the slow determination of a
man resolved on uttering a repulsive truth. Herbert’s mother was a
beautiful but penniless orphan of good family, who visited this house
some years since in the capacity of companion to our great-aunt.
“During that visit I became enamoured with her, and we were secretly
engaged in marriage. It was before the death of my father, and I was
not my own master; but I loved her truly, and meant well by her, only
desiring her to wait till I should be free to please myself. But
Richard stepped in between me and my happiness. He stole this girl’s
heart from me; gained her love as he has endeavored to obtain yours,
by flattery and dissimulation you see I am not wily and smooth enough
to please women--but also he destroyed her peace under promise of
marriage; leaving her soon after and going abroad without acquainting
her with his purpose.
“I was temporarily from home when this occurred. On returning in the
course of a month, Richard fled, as I have stated; but I was ignorant
then of the cause, and it was not till in the agony of shame she came
to me for help with her secret, that I became aware of his perfidy.
“I need not tell you that I gave her all the aid in my power; her
child Herbert was born and secretly cared for. When he was about two
years old, the great-aunt of whom I have spoken died, leaving a large
proportion of her property to Alice, of whose misfortune she had never
dreamed.
“Wealth came to the unfortunate girl too late. The shock she had
received from Richard’s deceit had preyed upon her health, and she was
failing rapidly, when he, hearing of her good fortune, returned home.
“With his specious address he might have regained his old ascendancy
over her had I not interfered. You know well, Agnes, his peculiar gift
of fascination. I believe he could by some unexplainable psychological
process make any great wrong appear right to a woman. But I induced her
to bequeath her wealth to Herbert, and secure it, for a time at least,
beyond Richard’s control--and he owes me a grudge for it.
“Herbert, she left under my care, unless, of his own free will, he
chose to reside with Richard, who in that case was to become his
guardian; and in the event of Herbert’s death before reaching his
majority, the whole property was to revert to Richard Bristed. You see
she loved him still. Unjust but womanlike, her love was stronger than
her judgment.
“Well,” said he, after eyeing me thoughtfully, “you listen as if you
did not rightly comprehend what I have been saying!”
I was indeed stunned by his communication. Could it be, I thought,
with suppressed fear, that the shadowy figure which had haunted my
bed-chamber and had visited me in dreams was the same wronged Alice?
Had she arisen from her grave beneath the granite of the church-yard
to warn me? Or are the dead jealous of their rights? Do they cling to
their earthly love? I queried. But when he spoke I shook off these
thoughts that were rising like mist to obscure my judgment, and
answered, “_I_ am. I am listening; proceed.”
“Agnes, through your influence Richard has hoped to obtain possession
of Herbert and control over his fortune. He has thought to entrap you
as he did Alice, and through his power over you has calculated to carry
out the project of his prolific brain.”
Till this moment I had listened silently to his strange recital, but
I could not brook this insinuation. The story, to my mind, did not
appear clear. How could Richard expect to obtain, through my agency,
possession of a son whom he had never acknowledged? Tis true I
remembered him to have said that he feared I would miss my pupil very
much. He had asked playfully what would Herbert do without me, but he
had not suggested taking the child away with us, and therefore Mr.
Bristed’s charge appeared to my mind unfounded, and I told him so.
“Ah, my child!” he replied, “you know not the devising power of this
man. He has an agent here in this place, in the shape of old Crisp, the
hunchback. It has been his plan, under promise of marriage, to decoy
you from this house; he would probably have left his child to Crisp’s
good agency, with orders to join you. Herbert loves you, and would
have gone willingly in your company, but alone with Richard he would
not have moved one step. Once out of my reach in some distant city,
he would have had the reins in his own hand. It was by an unexpected,
but I hope fortunate chance, that I overheard a conversation to this
effect between him and the deformed servant. I could not ascertain the
day set for this adventure, but I surmised that it was at no remote
date, and I have kept alert. You have avoided me, Miss Reef, and I have
been obliged to watch your movements distantly. Not from suspicion of
you, for I know you to be pure and honorable, but because you are under
my protection, and because”--he hesitated--I wondered what was coming
next. I had a presentiment that he was about to make an avowal which I
ought to shun, but before I could evade him he turned suddenly toward
me, his face white with emotion, and continued--“I love you, Agnes,
though it is no time now to speak of my passion, and have watched over
you as a father, a brother, a _lover_ would watch.”
This announcement affected me more than I care to confess, considering
I did not return his love, but it was the allusion to his sheltering
care that moved me.
“Yes, I have watched over you; orphan that you are, you need some
guardian care. I knew by your frequent journeys to the village, by your
cloistering in your own apartment, and more than all, by your speaking
countenance, that you were preparing for some great event in your life.
“Last night I could not sleep; I laid my head upon my pillow, but
finding it impossible to close my eyes I arose and dressed. Sitting by
my window I thought I heard a commotion in your room. I listened until
my surmises grew into certainty. The hour was midnight, and your door,
which at that season is usually closed like a cloister-gate, swung on
its hinges.
“This alarmed me; I unlocked my door and looked out. Soon a hasty step
retreating from your chamber met my ear. Descending the stairs, this
untimely visitor entered the room where Herbert lay sleeping. A strange
suspicion came over me. Can the intruder be Richard? I thought. If so,
what was he doing at that hour of the night? I seized a lighted candle
and rushed to the boy’s apartment, and there I found Richard, maddened,
and beside himself with liquor and frenzy. I was just in time to save
Herbert’s life from his insane fury.
“I know not what had occurred between you and him, Agnes, but this I
know, he had failed in some diabolical plot he had contemplated. Chance
or a friendly Providence had thwarted his purpose. I had him in my
power, and compelled him to leave the house, not to return until you
have been removed where he will never find you.
“I cannot leave my beautiful bird, my pet dove, where the charms of
this wily serpent may ensnare her.”
He ceased. My eyes were dry, my heart turned to stone. I arose, and
mechanically moved toward the door.
“Where are you going, Agnes? Tell me of your plans; regard me as your
friend, I beg.”
“Take me away--take me away,” I cried hysterically; “I must go! Oh, oh,
oh!” I should have fallen, but he caught me in his arms.