THE sun shone pleasantly warm, and a soft wind sighed among the
branches, when Violet Wayne pulled up her ponies where the shadows of
the firs fell athwart the winding road that dipped to Northrop valley.
There had been a shower, and a sweet resinous fragrance came out of the
dusky wood. Godfrey Palliser, who sat by the girl's side, however,
shivered a little, and buttoned the big fur-trimmed coat that lay loose
about him, which did not escape his companion's attention.
"Shall we drive out into the sun?" she asked.
"No," said the man, "I think I should be just as chilly, and the view
from here pleases me. It is scarcely likely that I shall see it very
often again."
Violet Wayne shook her head reproachfully as she glanced at him, though
she felt that the prediction might be verified, for Godfrey Palliser had
never been a strong man in any respect, and though he sat stiffly
upright he looked very worn and frail just then. The pallor of his face
also struck a little chill through her, for her pulses throbbed with the
vigor of youth, and all the green world about her seemed to speak of
life and hope. Yet there was a gravity in her eyes, which suggested that
the shadow of care also rested upon her.
"That is not the spirit to hasten one's recovery, and you have been ever
so much better lately," she said.
There was a curious wistfulness in Godfrey Palliser's smile, and he laid
a thin hand upon her arm. "I should like a little longer respite, if it
was only to see you Tony's wife," he said. "Then I should know that what
I had striven for so long would be worthily accomplished. Still, since
my last illness I have other warnings than those the eminent specialist
gave me, and I do not know at what hour the summons may come."
At the mention of Tony the shadow deepened for a moment in the girl's
face, for it seemed to her there was a meaning behind what the old man
had said which chimed with the misgivings that had troubled her of late.
Still, she was loyal, and would not admit it even to herself.
"Tony would have made you a worthy successor in any case," she said.
Godfrey Palliser smiled curiously. "Tony has many likable qualities, but
he is weak," he said. "That, my dear is one reason I am glad that he is
going to marry you, for it is a burden I shall, I think very shortly,
bequeath him. You will help him to lighten it, as well as bear it
honorably."
"There are, as you know, women in this country who would not consider it
a burden," said the girl.
Godfrey Palliser stretched out his hand and pointed to the vista of
sunlit valley which, framed by the dark fir branches, opened up before
them. Green beech wood, springing wheat, and rich meadow rolled away
into the blue distance under a sky of softest azure, with the river
flashing in the midst of them. Across the valley, under its sheltering
hill-slope the gray front of Northrop Hall showed through embowering
trees, and the tower of a little time-worn church rose in the
foreground. It was this, Violet Wayne noticed, the old man's eyes rested
longest on.
"It will all be yours and Tony's from this bank of the river as far as
the beech woods where Sir George's land breaks in, and it is a burden I
have found heavy enough these thirty years," he said. "The debt was
almost crushing when it came to me, and rents were going down, while one
can look for very little from agricultural property. I did what I could,
and thanks to the years of economy the load is a little lighter now; but
once I betrayed the trust reposed in me, and failed in my duty."
Violet Wayne could not quite hide her astonishment, for no shadow of
reproach had ever touched the punctilious Godfrey Palliser. He smiled
when he saw the incredulity in her eyes.
"It is quite true, and yet the temptation to deceive myself was almost
irresistible," he said. "For thirty years I had lived at Northrop with
the good will of my tenants and my neighbors' esteem, and if that
counted for too much with me it was because I felt I held the honor of
the name in trust to be passed on unblemished to you and Tony, and those
who would come after you. That was why I yielded, and it is only because
you will be Tony's wife I make confession now."
"You are cold," said the girl hastily. "We will drive out into the
sunshine."
Godfrey Palliser nodded, but he turned to her again as the ponies went
slowly down the hill. "It is necessary that you should listen, because
the man may live to trouble you," he said. "It never became apparent who
killed Davidson--for killed he was--but Tony and I knew, though I strove
to convince myself the man I should have exposed might be innocent.
Bernard Appleby would not have escaped to America if I had done my duty.
Had the warrant been signed when it should have been Stitt would have
arrested him."
"You cannot believe that Bernard Appleby was guilty!"
"I am sure, my dear. I would not admit it, but I knew it then--and still,
perhaps, I had excuses. The man was of my own blood, and I had meant,
when he had proved his right to it, to do something for him. Tony is
generous, and would not have grudged what I purposed to spare for him.
It was a crushing blow, and left me scarcely capable of thinking, while
before I quite realized it the thing was done, and I had become an
accessory to the escape of a criminal."
He stopped, gasped a little, for he had spoken with a curious intensity
of expression; but the girl looked at him steadily.
"Still," she said quietly, "I am not convinced yet."
"No? It is quite plain to me that it could only have been him or Tony,
and the latter suggestion is preposterous."
"Yes," said the girl, who shivered a little, though the sun was warm.
"Of course it is! Still, I cannot believe that the culprit was Bernard
Appleby."
Palliser smiled faintly. "One could envy you your charity, my dear, but
I have a charge to lay on you. That man may come back--and Tony would
temporize. You, however, will show him no mercy. Not one penny of the
Northrop rents must be touched by him--and now we will talk of something
pleasanter."
Violet Wayne shook the reins, and made an effort; but the old man
appeared exhausted, and she was glad that he evinced no great interest
in her conversation. What he had told her had left its sting, for she
had already been almost driven to the decision he had come to. Appleby,
she felt,--why she did not exactly know, though the belief was
unshakable,--could not have done the horrible thing, and all the love and
loyalty she possessed revolted against the suggestion that Tony was
guilty. Yet the brightness seemed to have gone out of the sunlight, and
the vista of wood and meadow lost its charm while the shadow deepened in
her face as they drove down into the valley.
Her mother was waiting on the terrace when they reached Northrop Hall,
and when Palliser had gone into the house leaning on a man's shoulder
she looked at the girl curiously.
"You are a trifle pale, Violet," she said. "Of course, it is almost a
duty, and he seems more tranquil in your company; but I have fancied
lately that you spend too much time with Godfrey Palliser. He seems
unusually feeble."
"I do not think he is as well to-day," said the girl.
"He has sent for lawyer Craythorne," said her mother thoughtfully.
"Well, you must shake off any morbid fancies he may have infected you
with. You have Tony to consider, and he has been moody lately. I
scarcely like to mention it, my dear, but I wonder if you have noticed
that he is not quite so abstemious as he was a little while ago."
A flush of crimson crept into the girl's cheek, and once more the little
chill struck through her, but she met the elder lady's eyes.
"I think you must be mistaken, mother," she said.
She turned and went into the house, but Mrs. Wayne sighed as she walked
thoughtfully up and down the terrace, for she had noticed more than she
had mentioned, and had fancies that were not pleasant to her. She had
borne much sorrow in her time with a high courage, but she was anxious
that afternoon, for it seemed to her that there might be a grim reality
behind those fancies.
Godfrey Palliser insisted on dining with his guests that evening, which
he had seldom done since his illness, and his four companions, among
whom was the lawyer who had done his business for thirty years, long
remembered that meal. Their host was dressed with his usual precision,
and sat stiffly erect, as though disdaining the support the high-backed
chair that had been brought him might afford, but the sombre garments
emphasized the pallor of his face, until, as the glow of the sinking sun
streamed in through the colored lights above the western window, a ruddy
gleam fell upon it. In that forced brilliancy its hollowness and
fragility became more apparent, and it was almost a relief to those who
sat at meat with him when the hall grew shadowy. He ate very little, and
scarcely spoke to any one but Violet, though his voice was curiously
gentle when he did so; and when he sat silent his eyes would rest on her
and Tony with a little contented smile.
Though they did what they could to hide it, there was a constraint upon
the party which the very servants seemed to feel, for Tony fancied they
were more swift and noiseless in their movements than usual. He also
noticed the curious look in one man's eyes when, though the light was
scarcely fading outside, Godfrey Palliser signed to him.
"Bring lights. I cannot see," he said.
The lights were brought, naked wax candles in great silver holders, and
their pale gleam flung back from glass and silver had a curious effect
in the lingering daylight. There was silence for awhile, and Tony was
grateful to Mrs. Wayne, who broke it tactfully; but the vague uneasiness
remained, and more than one of those who saw the strained expression in
his eyes wondered whether it was the last time Godfrey Palliser would
dine in state at Northrop Hall. Nobody was sorry when Mrs. Wayne rose,
but Palliser smiled at his nephew when Violet went out of the room with
her.
"You will spare me a few minutes, Tony. I have something to ask you," he
said. "We need have no diffidence in speaking before Mr. Craythorne."
The elderly lawyer bent his head, and Tony felt uneasy. "I shall be glad
to tell you anything I can, sir," he said.
"It is rather your opinion than information I want," said Palliser.
"Some time ago you tried to convince me of Bernard's innocence, while
to-day Violet persisted that she could not believe him guilty--even when
I pointed out that so far as I could see the culprit was either you or
he. Are you still as sure Bernard was not the man responsible for
Davidson's death as you were then? I am not asking without a purpose,
and the fact that we are honored with Craythorne's company will show you
that I consider it necessary to set my house in order. It may be yours
very soon now, Tony."
His low, even voice jarred upon one listener, and Tony spoke no more
than the truth when he broke out, "I hope you will hold it a good many
years yet, sir!"
"Yes," said Palliser, with a little smile, which something in his eyes
redeemed from being coldly formal, "I believe you though I scarcely
think it likely. Still, you have not answered my question."
"My opinion is not worth much, sir."
"I have asked you for it," said Palliser. "Nobody knows Bernard so well
as you do, and while I have scarcely a doubt in my own mind, Violet's
faith in him had its effect on me. After all, he belongs to us, and I
would like to believe him innocent, incredible as it seems, or at least
to hear something in extenuation. You will think me illogical in this,
Craythorne?"
Craythorne smiled. "Then I admit that, being a lawyer, I am more so, for
I would believe in Bernard Appleby against the evidence of my eyes. It
also seems to me that the intuitions of young women of Miss Wayne's kind
merit more respect than they usually receive."
"I am still waiting, Tony," said Palliser.
Tony sat silent almost too long, for the words "either you or he"
troubled him. Had Godfrey Palliser not spoken them he might have
answered differently, but as it was his apprehensions overcame him.
"It is a hard thing to admit, but I am afraid my views have changed
since then," he said.
The lawyer regarded him covertly, and noticed the furtiveness of his
eyes, but Palliser sighed. "You have," he said, "nothing to urge in
extenuation?"
"No, sir," said Tony. "I wish I had!"
"Then you will be so much the richer," said Palliser dryly. "Now Violet
will be waiting, and Craythorne and I have a good deal to do. I shall
retire when we have finished. Good night, Tony!"
He held out his hand when Tony rose, and the younger man noticed how
cold his fingers felt. "Good night, sir," he said. "I trust you will
feel brighter in the morning."
The chilly fingers still detained him and Palliser said very quietly,
"One never knows what may happen, Tony; but it would be my wish that you
and Violet did not wait very long."
Tony went out with a curious throbbing of his pulses and a horrible
sense of degradation, for he knew that he had perjured himself to a
dying man who trusted him. The room he entered was dimly lighted, but he
knew where the spirit stand and siphon were kept, and a liberal measure
of brandy was frothing in the glass, when there was a light step behind
him and a hand touched his arm.
"No!" said a low voice with a little ring of command in it.
Tony started, and swinging round with a dark flush in his face saw
Violet Wayne looking at him. There was also a little more color than
usual in her cheeks, but her eyes were steady, which Tony's were not.
"I never expected you, Violet," he said. "You made me feel like a boy
caught with his hand in the jam-pot. It's humiliating as well as
ludicrous!"
The girl smiled very faintly. "I am afraid it is," she said. "Do you
know, Tony, that this is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life?"
Tony saw the slight trembling of her lips, and laughed somewhat inanely
as he held out his hands.
"I think I needed it!" he said; and in a sudden fit of rage seized the
glass and, moving a few steps forward, flung it crashing into the grate.
Then he turned and faced the girl, flushed to the forehead, but stirred
to almost unwilling respect.
"There is not one woman of your station in a thousand who would have had
the courage to do that," he said. "Still, it is preposterous to think
that there was the least reason for it."
"Tony," said the girl very slowly, "I fancy I should hate you if you
ever made it necessary for me to do as much again, but we will try not
to remember it. What has been troubling you?"
Tony was glad of the opening, though under different circumstances he
would not have availed himself of it.
"I'll try to tell you," he said. "I am afraid Godfrey Palliser is very
shaky. In fact he was oppressively morbid to-night."
"No," said the girl. "I know what you mean, but morbid is not the right
word. Your uncle is now and then pedantic but one could only feel
respect for him to-day."
"Of course!" said Tony. "I shall be very genuinely sorry if his fancies
turn out right. That, however, is not the question. He asked me if I
still believed in Bernard, and I had a difficult thing to do. It seems
that your faith in the man had almost convinced him. He wanted to
believe him innocent, and leave him something in his will."
"And you told him--"
"What could I tell him? Only that I was not so sure of Bernard as I had
been."
There was a gleam of something very like anger in Violet Wayne's eyes.
"So you shattered the faint hope he clung to, and turned the
forgiveness, which, mistaken or not, would have been a precious thing
just now, into vindictive bitterness!"
"He asked me," said Tony. "What could I do?"
"You could have defended your friend--the man who has done so much for
you."
Tony stared at her, and once more the girl felt a little shiver of
apprehension when she saw his face, but in a moment he recovered
himself.
"I want to know exactly what you mean by that?" he said.
"Isn't it evident from what you have told me of your early days?"
Tony's apprehension disappeared, for it seemed he had been mistaken. "Of
course!" he said. "Still, the difficulty was that I couldn't urge
anything. I can't see why you believe in Bernard, Violet. Isn't it plain
that--it must have been either he or I?"
Tony was not devoid of a certain cunning, and the boldness of the
question had its effect, but the girl's eyes gleamed as she said, "I
could almost as soon believe you guilty as Bernard Appleby."
"Then," said Tony with a quietness which served him very well, "I am
sorry you have so little confidence in me!"
Violet stood still a moment, a trifle pale in face, and very erect. Then
she made a little gesture, and her lips trembled.
"Tony," she said simply, "you will forgive me that, though I scarcely
deserve it. If I could have meant it would I have done--what I did a
little while ago?"
Tony caught her hands, and would have drawn her to him, but the girl
shook off his grasp and slipped away, while the man stood still until
the door closed behind her, and then shook his head.
"Angry yet!" he said. "If one could only understand her--but it's quite
beyond me, and I've no inclination for further worries of any kind just
now."
He turned towards the cupboard again, stopped a moment, and then, with a
little impatient gesture, went out of the room. He did not see Violet
again that night, and went to bed early, though it was long before he
slept. It was early morning when he was awakened by the sound of a door
being opened suddenly and a hasty running up and down. In a few minutes
there were voices beneath him in the hall, while he huddled on his
clothes; and going out he stood a moment, irresolute, in the corridor. A
man who seemed to tread in a curious fashion was coming down the stairs,
and passed apparently without noticing him. Then Tony gasped as the
Darsley doctor he had sent for touched his arm, for he could see the
man's face dimly in the faint gray light.
"Yes," said the doctor quietly, answering the unspoken question. "I
never expected it would come so suddenly, or I would have sent for you.
Godfrey Palliser passed away ten minutes ago."