“How fain are we to turn our backs on that which likes us not.”
It struck me at the time as a remarkable coincidence that after walking
about fifty yards we should come across a droschki, into which we all
stepped, being driven away without a word of explanation to the driver,
unless a peculiar, thrice-repeated nod by Ivan be considered sufficient
explanation.
It would be useless to pretend that our drive was in every respect a
comfortable one. The droschki was, in the first place, so small that we
had to sit on each other’s knees. And it was so shaky that we had to
hold on to each other to avoid turning a somersault on to the roadway.
But that was not the fault of the droschki. The ill-used vehicle was
compelled to do duty as a sledge in winter. In summer the runners were
unshiped and laid to rest for a few months, while the clumsy wheels were
hauled out of their hiding-place and tied to the body of the droschki
with ropes. When you take a carriage of this description, and drive it
helter-skelter through streets paved with rough round cobble-stones, the
result cannot be expected to be conducive to comfort.
In my case, the miseries of that drive were intensified, as I was
already feeling very sick, in consequence of having been rash enough to
cap my first cigarette with a second one. But it was all in the
interests of patriotism and freedom, and the memory of the sufferings of
that day and night has been wiped out by the recollection of their
satisfactory ending.
We had been driving, as nearly as I can remember, about half an hour,
having branched off from the streets into the public park known as Peter
the Great’s Gardens, when our driver drew his horse up close to the edge
of some dark, stagnant water. We were beside the new Mole. The last
remnant of daylight was now gone, so far as it does go altogether in
these latitudes in summer. But we were quite able to see that in the
huge basin before us lay hundreds of steamers of various nationalities,
in one of which at least we hoped to find a haven of refuge.
Seeing us get out of the droschki, several uncouth-looking boatmen,
dressed in bright-colored print shirts, immediately importuned us to
employ them. After a little preliminary bargaining between them and the
droschki-driver, the two least villainous-looking boatmen were employed
to row our party to an English steamer named the _Beacon_.
A liberal _douceur_ was given to the driver by Ivan. We stepped into the
gaudily-painted boat, carrying our scanty store of luggage with us; the
men bent to their oars, and we were soon skimming the surface of the
Mole, while the sounds of the droschki’s wheels died away in the
distance.
“Keep a sharp lookout,” muttered Ivan in English. “These fiendish
boatmen would brain us all, and pitch us into the water, if they thought
that, by catching us unawares, they could land a few roubles and a watch
or two. That sort of thing often happens, but none of the villains are
ever brought to book. They bolt off to their winter quarters as soon as
they have done a stroke of that sort of business, and when they come
back in the next boating season the whole affair has been forgotten by
the officials.”
After this, I sat with my eyes glued on the boatmen, anxiously noting
what a number of ships we had to pass before we reached the one we
wanted, and wildly longing for the time when I could bid an eternal
farewell to misery-haunted Russia. I supposed, the _Beacon_ being in the
inner Mole, the men would be rowing half an hour before they reached it.
To me the time seemed an age ere we pulled up beside a black-looking
steamer, and one of the men shouted “Ahoy!” to the watchman on deck.
There was a speedy reply to the summons, three or four dark heads
popping themselves over the side to have a look at us. There were no
questions asked, and it almost seemed to me as if we had been expected,
though one could not complain of the preparations for our reception
being too elaborate. A rope-ladder hung from the ship’s side, and for a
moment my heart sank within me, when I was told that this was the only
means of boarding our ark of safety.
Trischl confessed to me afterward that she almost fainted at what seemed
to her to be courting certain death. But we were both possessed by an
even greater dread than that of falling back into the water, and nerved
ourselves to appear as “manly” and unconcerned as possible, lest our
terror should betray how totally unused to our present surroundings we
were. As for madame, she seemed to be endowed with super-human courage
and calmness.
In due course this fresh ordeal was over. The boatmen grasped the end of
the ladder, which had wooden rungs, in order to steady it, and one by
one we sampled its precarious footing, swaying from side to side with
the motion of the boat, and sometimes being turned almost with our backs
to the steamer before we reached the rail at the top. Here many hands
were ready to seize ours, and to help us to descend the short ladder
which led from the rail to the deck. It is contrary to all custom for a
woman to be left to the last to come on board in this fashion, and Ivan,
in spite of his assumed transposition into a member of the weaker sex,
would fain have seen the supposed German merchant board the ship before
him. This, however, would of a certainty have roused the suspicions of
the boatmen.
So madame was left to give the boatmen their stipulated pay and to come
on board unaided. The boatmen, knowing with what facility seafarers
usually mount these hanging ladders, pushed their boat off without
further delay, and paid no more attention to the individual whom they
left dangling in mid-air. Being thus unceremoniously thrown upon her own
resources, madame exerted herself to secure a more stable footing, and
when at last she stood upon the deck, shaking with sudden nervousness, I
firmly believed that nothing short of a miracle had saved her from
falling into the water.
“Pray come down below at once,” said the voice of a man who had taken an
active part in our reception, and who proved to be the captain. “I began
to be afraid that you would not save the tide. It will be high water in
an hour, and there is nothing to hinder us from weighing and starting at
once. We must pass out when the gates open. You will have to excuse the
quarters to which I am compelled to consign you until we are out of
Russian jurisdiction. We may possibly be boarded again by government
officials before we are clear of the docks, and you must all be alike
invisible and inaudible. So be perfectly still until I come down to you
again. You will find some other refugees in the ship. They will help to
make you comfortable. Take care!”
While the captain was talking, he had been leading us through the ship’s
saloon; thence through the steward’s pantry to what he called the
lazarette, whence we emerged, through a cunningly concealed sliding
door, into an apartment that was so narrow that two stout people could
barely have passed each other in it, and so dark that the reader may
reasonably excuse the momentary panic which overcame me, when, before we
had quite comprehended that we were at last at the end of our journey,
we were pushed further into the passage-like space. Then the captain
hurriedly left us to our own devices, and the door closed with a
peculiar click which advertised some patent spring action.
We were doubtful what step to take next, and were so imbued with a sense
of the deadly danger that would attend any noise on our part, that for a
few moments we dared neither move nor speak. It was a great relief when,
in a few minutes, the captain returned with a scrap of candle—warranted
to go out in five minutes.
“Daren’t allow more. Might be seen,” he whispered, and then clicked the
door after him.
We eagerly availed ourselves of the dim light which had been put into
Trischl’s hand to glance around our temporary prison, which eventually
proved to have been contrived by means of double bulkheads, which
traversed the ship from side to side, but were only two feet apart from
each other. The reason for this economy of space will be obvious when it
is remembered that the object of the shipbuilders had been the provision
of a secret chamber of which the existence was not to be even suspected
by those not in the secret.
The long, narrow passage thus obtained was furnished with rugs and
cushions, and such other means of comfort as the exigencies of space and
practicability allowed.
But we did not dwell long upon the view of our place of refuge, for we
speedily caught sight of that which filled us with the liveliest joy.
We had been enjoined to keep silent. Surely it would have been a
superhuman task to refrain from a few exclamations of thankfulness at
the surprise in store for us. For here were the Prince and Princess
Michaelow, madame’s daughter Feo, and a fourth person whom we soon knew
to be none other than Victor Karniak, my mistress’s newly-wedded
husband.
Surely tears, and sobs, and smiles, and ejaculations of gratitude were
never more rapturously blended than in the small, stuffy hole in which
we were all reunited! But prudence soon reasserted itself, and ten
minutes later a Russian spy might have listened at the door without
hearing a sound from within. Yet a little while longer and we could hear
the vibration of the screw. We had entered upon another phase of our
adventurous journey.
Excitement and danger are prone to make one forget or ignore bodily
claims which weigh very seriously with us at other times. But when these
unwonted stimulants are withdrawn, nature is apt to take a little
revenge for the temporary slight put upon her. Thus it is not surprising
that, the happy reunion of friends and relatives being accomplished, the
quartet of newest arrivals should become conscious of extreme fatigue
and of the need of some kind of refreshment.
The latter was soon forthcoming. A larder at one end of the room we were
in was stocked with a liberal supply of eatables and drinkables, and
there were plenty of willing hands to serve us with a meal to which some
at least of us did full justice.
“And now, Miss Dora,” said Trischl, “the best thing we can do is to lie
down and sleep for a while. Everybody else has much to talk over with
friends, and we shall not be missed.”
It was quite true. We could, for a time, at least, be easily, perhaps
gladly, spared. While traveling, and sharing mutual dangers, we had all
seemed tolerably equal in our claims upon each other. The situation was
altered now. Trischl was kindly and warmly welcomed. But her welcome was
the one which generous employers would naturally extend to a faithful
servant. I was treated in every respect as an equal, but was still
conscious of the fact that I was not actually one of the family, as
seemed to be the case with Ivan. That madame should appear all in all to
her husband and child was natural. But that Ivan, whom I had admired
while I thought him madame’s very humble assistant, should turn out to
be none other than Count Sergius Volkhoffsky, the cousin and bosom
friend of Prince Michaelow, was a great surprise to me. They all had
much to talk about, or rather, to whisper about, for great caution was
necessary, and I felt no compunction in following Trischl’s advice.
But it was long before I could sleep; for the motion of the vessel,
combined with the unpleasant vibration of the screw, which seemed to be
almost under me, soon made me feel sick again, and I underwent a period
of intense but silent misery, too ill to lift my head, but not too ill
to feel a fresh accession of terror every time the motion of the ship
ceased.
I did not know then that the coming out of dock of a merchant steamer is
a tedious business which involves many fresh starts and stoppages, if
collisions with quay walls or ships are to be avoided. Had I been aware
of this fact, I should not have kept fancying that the _Beacon_ had been
detained by Russian government officials, and that pursuers were about
to discover our hiding-place.
When at last sleep did visit me, it performed its work so effectually
that on awaking I had no trace of fatigue or illness left. My cushions
were at one end of our curious room, which was no wider than an ordinary
bunk, and would hardly have permitted any one to pass me without
disturbing me. As it was, I had slept uninterruptedly for hours, and was
quite refreshed when I opened my eyes and saw that a lamp was casting
its brightening rays around me. Trischl stood by my bedside, if such I
can call it, smiling with joy, and holding in her hand a cup of fragrant
coffee.
“I have brought you some coffee and a ham sandwich,” she said. “You may
get up as soon as you like now, and come on deck when you have had some
breakfast. We have left Russia behind us and have got rid of the Russian
pilot. The captain says there is no more fear of pursuit.”
This was joyful news indeed, and I lost no time in preparing myself to
go on deck.
“If you will follow me, miss,” said Trischl, “I will show you the berth
that is to be yours till the end of the voyage. You will be able to wash
and dress comfortably in it.”
Even the little den to which I promptly betook myself was of somewhat
circumscribed area, but it was as a very paradise to me, by reason of
the delightful feeling of security which I felt as soon as I stepped
into it. I soon discarded the raiment which had served me so well, and
at once lost myself in the delight of making myself more suitably
presentable. Every necessity seemed to have been foreseen and provided
against, and I found an ample stock of clothing placed at my disposal.
I was very glad that I no longer needed to masquerade in boy’s attire,
and took especial delight in robing myself in a pretty pink morning gown
Trischl brought in for me. My hair afforded me some trouble, though. If
I had been an ugly girl before, what must I be now? I thought. My little
berth was lighted by a swing lamp, fixed to a bracket in the bulkhead.
There was also a mirror hanging near the bunk. But I could not judge
very well of my appearance, and it was with a sense of regret at the
thought that my cropped hair negatived the advantages of my pretty dress
that I eventually followed Trischl into more airy and lightsome regions.
I found the ship’s cabin well occupied. Madame and her husband, together
with the Prince and Princess Michaelow, being deep in consultation
concerning future arrangements. So I did not encroach long upon their
time, but, after exchanging pleasant greetings with them all, went on
deck. Here Feo was having a merry time with Count Sergius Volkhoffsky. I
am not sure that I wasn’t sorry to find that the latter was a grand sort
of an individual, after all. I would much rather have been able to call
him Ivan, especially as he looked so very handsome, now that he was
dressed in a manner befitting his station, while I felt painfully
conscious that I must be looking a bigger fright than ever.
“Oh, Dora, I am glad you have come up at last,” exclaimed Feo, bounding
affectionately toward me. “They would not let me wake you when the
captain first came to tell us that it was safe enough for us now. Isn’t
the sea pretty? And isn’t this a jolly ship? And isn’t everybody in it
jolly? And, ho; isn’t Sergius jollier than anything?”
I have been told since that if my lips did not indorse the latter
sentiment, my eyes did. But I must warn the reader that the individual
who made the statement is not to be trusted with regard to anything he
may say about me. For he is unduly prejudiced in my favor. The latter
fact, when it was first brought home to me, came upon me as a huge
surprise. I still feel surprise, when I think of it, but am better
accustomed to it by this time.
There was much to explain and to talk over concerning our recent flight,
and, while Feo rambled hither and thither, in thorough enjoyment of the
situation, I listened to the explanation of much that had seemed
inexplicable to me. The whole party with which I had become so closely
associated was of Nihilistic proclivities, and had been spending much
energy and a great deal of money in facilitating the escape from Russia
of such members of their fraternity as from time to time fell under the
ban of suspicion. It had, however, of late, struck them that the limit
of their own safety had been spanned, and their flight had not been
nearly so hasty and unpremeditated as it had seemed to me, though Mme.
Karniak, as I must now call my employer, had been reluctant to recognize
her own extreme peril. There was some special mission to perform, for
which a considerable sum of money was still needed. Madame could only
contribute her quota after handing in her report and receiving the check
with which government rewarded her imaginary services once a month. She
resolved that once more, and only once more, she would run the risk of a
return to St. Petersburg.
She achieved her purpose, but narrowly escaped falling a victim to her
patriotic zeal. Prince Michaelow, less sanguine than she, had foreseen
her danger, and provided for her escape, his cousin having considered it
by no means derogatory to his dignity to assume the rôle of a coachman
for the nonce. The Princess Michaelow, or Nina, as she has since asked
me to call her, had taken no active part in Nihilistic plans and
consultations, and had been as genuinely surprised at the sudden
necessity for the flight to England as I had been, but was by no means
downhearted at the prospect of having to spend the rest of her life in
her own country. As for Mr. Victor Karniak, he had deemed it wisest to
avoid the river steamer, and had not reached the _Beacon_ much sooner
than we had done ourselves.
Needless to say, the visit of the _Beacon_ to Cronstadt was not the
result of merely mercantile speculation, but of a thoroughly
systematized plan of campaign, by which refugees in the secret had their
escape from Russia facilitated. The vessel usually made four trips
between England and Cronstadt in the season, taking coals out from the
Tyne, and returning with a mixed cargo of wheat, timber, and refugees,
London being the discharging port. The after hold was docked of two feet
of its legitimate length, this space being utilized for the hiding-place
in which we had spent our first night on board.
I used to imagine myself an ardent lover of nature. During this voyage I
sometimes wondered if I had turned Goth or Vandal. For I no longer took
the all-absorbing delight in my surroundings that had hitherto
accompanied me when among fresh and unconventional scenery. The
ever-changing panorama of views of first one country and then another,
alternated by the numerous islands which are dotted about the Baltic,
would have aroused my enthusiasm at any other time. That they did not do
so on this occasion must be laid to Count Sergius Volkhoffsky’s charge.
He was so clever and so brilliant that when talking to him I naturally
overlooked the unobtrusive claims of scenery. I might possibly see a
great deal more of the world in time to come, I thought, but I should
never have such a wonderful traveling companion again. Therefore it
would have been foolish to refuse the opportunities which were mine of
enjoying his society. Certainly these opportunities seemed to last
almost all day, for, strangely enough, Count Volkhoffsky never seemed to
tire of my company. I knew that things would be very different, when we
reached London, and he was introduced to cleverer and better-looking
girls. Meanwhile, I felt happy in the present, and tried to banish the
oft-recurring vision of my own probable future of lonely lovelessness.
Alas! the time sped all too quickly for me, though by every one else on
board our arrival in London was hailed with unmixed relief. The Prince
and Princess Michaelow went to the Hôtel Metropole until they could
complete their arrangements for residing in a home of their own
furnishing. Their cousin, Sergius, went with them for a time.
Mr. and Mrs. Karniak, Feo, myself and Trischl were soon located in
Kensington again, being fortunate in securing a very nicely furnished
house pro tem. I was not sure that madame’s financial position was such
now as warranted my remaining with her, but I hardly knew how to
introduce the question of my departure. It relieved my embarrassment
considerably when madame, having probably partially gauged my feelings,
spoke to me one morning about Feo’s future.
“I find,” she said, “that Feo shows considerable facility for learning
languages. She is so young yet that she may safely postpone a good many
of the ordinary branches of her education, and she is getting on so well
with her French and German that I hope you will not leave us for some
time. To lose you would be a serious break in my child’s education, and
I hope you know how anxious I am to retain your companionship,
especially as Victor has much traveling to do before his financial
affairs are all satisfactorily arranged.”
“Surely he is not going to Russia again?” I exclaimed.
“No, not to Russia, but to South America. He has money invested in
shares there, and is also concerned in some California speculations. For
some time he has foreseen that it would be as well to invest his capital
out of Russia. But his agents have been rather lax, and he is going to
inspect both nitrate beds and gold mines, in order that he may realize
his legitimate profit on them. This will take him many months, and we
want you to promise that you will stay with me at least until he comes
back. Both Feo and I need you.”
Stay with them! As if it were a favor on my part, too! Put in that way,
the request certainly surprised me.
“Stay with you!” I said gratefully. “I shall only be too happy to do so.
Where else have I to go to, since my own father declines to welcome me?”
Madame had a knack of being tantalizingly mysterious at times, and I
puzzled my head for some time to unravel the meaning of the curious
smile with which she greeted my last question. But my immediate future
was now arranged for, at all events, and the least I could do in return
for madame’s kindness was to set about my duties, light as they were,
with all my heart and all my soul.
Meanwhile, I felt anxious to learn how things fared with Lady Elizabeth.
At times, when I remembered the mysterious nature of the illness from
which she was suffering when I last saw her, I almost feared the worst.
Then my naturally hopeful temper reasserted itself, and I reflected that
she would now in all probability be quickly recovering her normal
strength in the bracing air of Moorbye, whither my family would be sure
to have returned ere this.
And Jerry! Dear little Jerry! How ardently I longed to see him. He would
be spending his holidays at home now, and I wondered if he had made such
progress with his French as he seemed to anticipate before he left us.
What a long time it seemed since father and I, both with such light
hearts, had seen him leave our little station in the care of the tutor.
And what a round of events had taken place since then. I had suffered
much, and felt years older, although the last few weeks seemed to have
softened my regrets for the past in a wonderful degree.
Belle, too. Somehow, I was now able to think of her without feeling such
anger as had formerly haunted me, though I can never pretend to a return
of loving, sisterly interest in her. That was dead forever, but so also
was my former determination to make her suffer as keenly as I had been
made to suffer. Such a determination I looked upon now as unchristian
and unnatural, since the object of my vengeance was my own mother’s
daughter.
Better let sleeping dogs lie, I thought, since any revelations
concerning the death of the late Earl of Greatlands, if they tended to
substantiate my idea of willful culpability on the part of Belle and her
fiancé, would be productive of great grief to many others.
Feeling anxious and unsettled, and being doubtful of the wisdom of
writing home to ask for news of my people, lest my father should compel
me to give up my present life of honorable independence and freedom from
petty insults, I took advantage of a spare hour or two shortly after my
return to London, and went to the house my father had rented in town. It
was tenantless. I had not intended really going in, but I believe I
should not have been able to resist trying to see Lady Elizabeth, if she
had still been living here, and I felt more disappointed than I could
have believed possible, since I had not really expected to see her. To
go to Moorbye was out of the question just now, I thought, as I did not
wish to trespass upon madame’s good nature yet awhile to the extent of
neglecting my duties for a couple of days.
I was walking through the park, on my way home again, revolving the
propriety of writing to ask Mrs. Garth to let me have all the news about
my people, when I accidentally jostled against some one else who was
evidently as preoccupied as I was. Hastily looking up, with an
ejaculation of apology, I saw, looking at me with a face upon which was
pictured the greatest surprise, an elderly man, in whom I recognized
none other than Dennis Marvel, the former valet of my dear old earl.
“Oh, miss!” he said eagerly. “I am glad to see you. For I have that on
my mind which will drive me mad, if I keep it to myself, but which I
dare tell to nobody but you. I am fairly pulled to pieces with the
misery of the thing. One minute something in me says, ‘Tell all you
know, and let justice be done. Let not the guilty flourish while the
innocent are cast aside.’ The next minute it seems as if the wickedest
thing I could do was to make more trouble for them that has had enough
already. Oh! miss, you will be able to help me to decide what should be
done. Though you had such bitter enemies, you won’t let hatred of them
lead you to be cruel to their belongings, and oh! how it will ease my
mind to tell you everything. I have been to the house to inquire for
you, but the servants could not tell me anything about you, except that
they thought there had been a quarrel, and that Mr. Courtney had turned
you out—you, who had been robbed of wealth and title! It made my blood
boil to hear it; but of course I could not say what I thought, and I
never hoped to come across your ladyship that was to have been like
this—so lucky, after all.”
I had let the old man talk on so long without interruption, for my
inward dismay had literally bereft me of the power of speech for a time.
I did not even try to pretend to myself that I misunderstood Marvel’s
meaning, or that I did not know exactly to what event he was alluding.
At last the mystery of the earl’s death was going to be cleared up for
me. My suspicions were to become proved facts, and upon my shoulders was
to fall the onus of judging and sentencing the guilty. It is small
wonder that I felt the blood leave my face; that my limbs trembled under
me, and that I was glad to avail myself of the support of the seat near
which I had come into collision with Marvel. I motioned to him to sit
down also, hastily looking round, lest possible prying ears should be at
hand to surprise and proclaim to the world the secret of which my
companion was about to disburden himself.
“I see that you fully understand my meaning,” he said, “and I don’t need
to beat about the bush much, for I always thought that you suspected
foul play, by the way you looked at your sister and the young earl.
Well, miss, it’s quite true. They made away with my poor old master, for
they had sworn that you shouldn’t get married to him and lord it over
them at the castle. Besides, they pretended to think the earl must be in
his dotage, and no longer fit to be the head of the family, when he
could seriously think of choosing—well, miss, not to offend you, I
hope—but they said he had picked the ugliest girl he could find, and
that there was no telling what crazy thing he would do next—try to cut
off the entail, or something of the sort. So they laid their plans to
stop the wedding, and, I swear it is true, they murdered my poor old
master.”
“Stop, Marvel,” I said now, having at last recovered the power of
speech. “The accusations you make are too terrible to be believed
lightly. It is easy to say what your suspicions dictate. But you have no
proofs of what you say, and I will not hear anything more. I loved the
old earl for his goodness to me, a neglected, unattractive girl, whom
very few people cared for. The present earl is his son and the brother
of my dear stepmother. His fiancée is my sister, and thus both, though
actually my enemies, have claims upon my forbearance. Marvel, I dare not
believe them guilty. I will not believe them guilty! You shall tell me
no more.”
“You must hear all I have got to say now, Miss Dora,” returned Marvel
firmly. “I tell you, I must open my mind to somebody, and I reckon you
are the safest. Another thing, I have to be back soon, so would like to
get on with my story.”
“Are you still with the present earl?”
“Yes, that’s how I know so much about his black secret. And my knowing
the secret is the reason why I stop on with him, for he is not very easy
to put up with nowadays. But, you see, I have lived all my life in the
family, and so did my father and mother before me. So I feel as if the
family’s trouble and disgrace were mine, too, and I would rather keep on
as I am than let another man step into my shoes. For he would soon be at
the bottom of the family mystery, and then what would become of us all?”
What, indeed? The result was too dreadful to contemplate, and I no
longer questioned either Marvel’s veracity, or the purity of his
motives.
“The present earl,” he went on, “was always inclined to drink a bit. But
since his father’s death he has really gone on awful. Every week it has
got worse, and I have had to put him to bed drunk every night for this
last month. This couldn’t help having a serious effect on him, and last
week he had a very bad attack of delirium tremens, in which his own
ravings showed the whole business up as plain as daylight. I was glad he
was pretty quiet when the doctor was there, as he would have been one
too many in the secret. The papers said that he was laid up with an
attack of pleurisy. But I knew better, and it does not pay a fashionable
doctor to split about his patients. Toward the end of the week the earl
got over his attack of the blues and then I had a serious talk with him.
“‘My lord,’ said I, ‘you must drink no more.’
“‘And why not?’ he asked, looking at me as if he thought I had left my
senses somewhere else.
“‘Because,’ I said, looking him straight in the face, ‘dead men tell no
tales, but drink makes people tell things that it’s safer nobody else
should know. I’ll tell you what the drink has made you do and say, and
then you can judge whether it’s safe for you to drink any more or not.’
“Then I described how he had gone on when unconscious of what he was
doing. He had fancied every now and then that his father’s ghost was
standing before him with outstretched finger and threatening visage.
‘For God’s sake!’ he would scream, ‘take it away! It is drawing me down
to hell! Let me go—take her! She prompted me to it! It was her crime. I
would not have thought of it, but for her. I gave him the poison, but it
was Belle who bought it. She swore that she would use it on her sister,
if I failed with the poor old man, who deserved nothing but good at my
hands. Why didn’t I let her poison the girl? I shouldn’t have had this
to face then. Begone!’
“At this he jumped out of bed as if he meant to attack somebody. But he
just fell all of a heap on the floor, and was pretty easily managed till
the next paroxysm came on, which was in another hour or two.
“Now you can guess what sort of an effect my talk had upon my master. He
went almost beside himself with terror, and was for offering me no end
of things to bribe me to keep his secret. But I am not one of those
human vultures who grow fat on the crimes and miseries of others, and I
wouldn’t touch a farthing from the earl except in the way of my
earnings, as usual. It would burn my fingers, if I did. ‘No,’ I said,
‘Dennis Marvel knows his duty to the family too well to betray it. Your
lordship has the matter in your own hands. Keep off the drink. Keep your
mouth shut, and all’s safe.’
“Since then he hasn’t tasted a drop of anything that could make him
drunk. But he has awful nights, all the same. He wasn’t really meant for
a villain, and, saving your presence, Miss Dora, if that she-devil, your
sister, hadn’t got hold of him, things would have been all right, and we
should all have been as happy as we used to be before we knew her. And
now, Miss Dora, what would you advise me to do? Do you blame me for what
I have done? It would kill Lady Elizabeth, and disgrace the family
forever, if we didn’t keep the secret. So it cannot be wicked to shield
the guilty.”
Thus appealed to by Marvel, I replied firmly:
“We _must_ shield the guilty, Marvel, in order to protect the innocent.
You wouldn’t like to have Lady Elizabeth’s death on your conscience,
would you?”
“God forbid!”
“Then you and I, faithful friend, must breathe a word of this business
to no one. And we must do all we can to prevent others from learning the
terrible secret. It is a heavy burden you have put upon my shoulders,
Marvel. I can only hope your burden has been eased a little in the
telling, and that you will not think it necessary to share it with any
one else.”
“I give you my Bible oath, Miss Dora, that not a living soul shall hear
me speak of this thing but you. The weight of the secret was choking me,
but, as you say, a burden shared by somebody else of like mind is half
rolled away.”
“And yet you have something else to tell me. What do you mean by saying
that the earl has bad nights? Is he still likely to betray himself?”
“I think not; for, when awake, he knows quite well what he is saying.
But his conscience is tormenting him to his doom. He cannot live long
and suffer as he is doing. Sleep refuses to visit him, except when he
takes an opiate, and every night the dose has to be made bigger, or it
has no effect. A fine state of mind for a man to be in who is going to
be married next month.”
“Next month?”
“Yes, on the fifteenth.”
“In London?”
“No. Lady Elizabeth is too ill to stand much fuss and excitement. So the
wedding is to be as quiet as possible, and is to take place at Moorbye
Church, the Rev. Mr. Garth officiating. It is just as well for
everybody.”
“Yes, it is just as well. And now, do you know, Marvel, I feel ill with
the shock of all you have told me, and—”
Marvel at once jumped up and offered to fetch a cab for me. I gladly
accepted his offer, and reached home half an hour later, while Marvel
returned to his master’s town house, to fulfill those duties which his
long attachment to the Greatlands family, and his identification of his
own honor with that of his employers, alone made it possible for him to
continue.
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