THE LETTER.
It may be remembered that a certain letter written by Mr Vansittart
to Godfrey Harland, and left by that gentleman in his coat pocket,
was the means by which Iris discovered his intention to desert her.
Strange to say, Harland had never missed the letter. He only visited
his home on one occasion after that evening, and then the excitement
of his new prospects, and the necessity of keeping up appearances to
deceive his wife, had prevented his discovering his loss. Iris had
preserved the paper carefully, and brought it with her on board the
_Pandora_. She intended to produce it in proof of her right to have
followed her husband to New Zealand; and, in case of his attempting to
excuse himself, to confront him with the witness to his treachery. When
Maggie told her that Godfrey was paying open court to Grace Vansittart,
Iris took out her box of letters, and turned them over, and read that
one amongst others, to see if she could discover that he had had any
positive intention of committing bigamy before he started on the
voyage,--whether, in fact, his wooing of Miss Vansittart was the result
of an unfortunate passion, or of a premeditated crime. And, in putting
back her papers, she dropped Mr Vansittart’s note upon the cabin floor.
It was picked up and read by Will Farrell. As he was debating what to
do with it--having promised Maggie Greet that he would never divulge to
Iris that he knew her to be Godfrey Harland’s wife--Iris herself came
into the cabin, and walked its length with her eyes upon the floor, as
though searching for something.
‘Have you lost anything, Miss Douglas?’ asked Farrell, as he watched
her.
‘Yes, I have dropped a letter--a very important letter. Have you seen
it, steward?’ she said, in her sweet, low voice.
‘No, miss, I ain’t,’ replied the steward. ‘When did you have it last?’
‘Only this morning. I was reading over some old letters, and this one
amongst them. It is written on thick, glazed paper, and has a large
monogram in red and gold at the top. I shall be very vexed if I lose
it.’
‘Well, I’ll find it for you if it’s aboard, miss. But p’raps it’s
blowed over. The wind has been very fresh through the cabin, to-day,’
replied the steward, jingling his glasses.
‘Oh! I _hope_ not!’ exclaimed Iris, clasping her hands in genuine
distress. ‘It is of the utmost consequence to me. Pray look for it at
once, steward; it may have got into your pantry, amongst the breakfast
things.’
The steward bundled off into his sanctum, and Will Farrell approached
her with the letter in his hand.
‘Is this what you are looking for, Miss Douglas?’
Iris flushed scarlet.
‘Oh, yes, it is indeed! I am so much obliged to you! Where did you find
it?’
‘Under the table. I picked it up about an hour ago.’
Iris took the letter, and twisted it about nervously in her fingers.
‘Mr Farrell, have you read it?’ she said at last timidly.
‘Yes, Miss Douglas, I have, and, begging your pardon, I should like to
know how it came into your possession.’
He knew well enough, but he said it to force her to a confession of the
truth.
‘I--I don’t quite understand you,’ she stammered.
‘I mean how is it that you hold a letter addressed to Godfrey Harland?’
‘Do you know him?’ she asked quickly.
‘_Know him!_ I should rather think I did. I know him for the greatest
scoundrel unhung.’
‘Hush!--hush!’ cried Iris fearfully.
‘I’m not afraid of who may hear me, Miss Douglas. The whole ship might
listen, for ought I should care about it. But I am sorry to think so
true a lady as yourself should have any connection (however distant)
with such a blackguard as Godfrey Harland.’
‘Ah! you don’t know--’ she commenced, with a look of the keenest pain.
‘Won’t you tell me?’ he said coaxingly. ‘I’m a rough fellow, Miss
Douglas, and not a fit friend, perhaps, for the like of you. But I can
see you’re in trouble, and if your trouble is connected with that man,
you’ll want a friend to help you through with it. He’s a rascal--I
can’t help saying it, whatever you may think of him, and if he can
cheat you, he will, as he has done others, over and over again.’
‘Oh! I think I could trust you!’ exclaimed Iris involuntarily; ‘for
you look honest and true, Mr Farrell, and you love Maggie, and Maggie
loves me. Yes, I feel sure you will be the friend of _her_ friend. But
how astonished you will be when I tell you the truth! Stoop your head
lower, that no one may hear us. My name is not Miss Douglas at all. It
is Iris Harland. I am Godfrey Harland’s wife.’
‘God help you, poor thing!’ exclaimed Farrell fervently.
‘Ah! what do you know against him to say that?’ she replied, shrinking
from him. ‘Did you ever hear of him before you met on board-ship?’
‘I have known him, to my misfortune, for years, Miss Douglas. He has
been the ruin of my life.’
‘God forgive him! How?’
‘We were clerks in the same office, though he was in a higher position
than myself, and his real name (as I suppose you know) is Horace Cain.’
‘_Horace Cain!_ repeated Iris, with knitted brows. ‘I never heard of
it. Mr Farrell, are you _sure_ you are not making a mistake? He married
me as Godfrey Harland.’
‘Then he married you under a false name. But he had good reason for
changing it, as I will prove to you. How well I remember the day his
father, old Mr Cain, brought him to Starling’s office, and what a
swell we all thought him! He had only left college a few weeks then,
owing to their loss of fortune, and he gave himself all the airs of a
millionaire. We were very much prejudiced against him at first, because
old Starling (who was a friend of his father’s) placed him over all our
heads, although he did not know anything of the business. However, it
was his policy to make himself agreeable, and learn all he could. And
nice work he made of the knowledge he gained. He hadn’t been six months
in the office, before a forgery was committed on old Starling’s bank
for eight hundred pounds.
‘Mr Farrell,’ cried Iris, turning very white, as she clutched his arm,
‘it was not _Godfrey_ who did it?’
‘It certainly was, Miss Douglas.’
‘Oh, no, no! He is very bad. He is cruel and false and ungenerous, I
know, but _surely_ he never committed such an awful crime.’
‘Miss Douglas, Harland was the forger of that cheque, as sure as we sit
here. He has never denied it to me. He _cannot_. There were but two of
us who _could_ have done it--he and myself--and _I_ know that it was
not I.’
‘But how could he escape?’
‘He bolted to America, leaving a very cleverly-concocted letter behind
him to say that he knew that the suspicion would falsely fall upon
himself, and that he was unable either to bear such a calumny, or turn
Queen’s evidence against one whom he had treated as a friend. And by
the time the letter was received, he was clear off under an assumed
name, having left part of the receipts for the forged cheque (which
he sent _me_ to cash) in my desk, where, to my utter amazement, they
were found, rolled up in some old bills. Suspicion, of course, fell
upon me, but Cain’s conduct in running away was so mysterious, that
we were considered to be partners in crime, and as Mr Starling, for
his old friend’s sake, would institute no proceedings against Horace,
he refused also to prosecute me. But he turned me out of his office
without a character, and a stain upon my name, and the curse has
followed me ever since. I have tried again and again, Miss Douglas,
to procure permanent employment. I have even stooped to menial
service, with the same result. I get on well; I grow in favour with
my employers; I work hard--and then, just as I am rising to something
better, the curse comes down upon me, the old lie crops up. I am dubbed
as a suspected _forger_, and dismissed without ceremony. It is this
that sickened me of trying to live in England, and determined me to
try my fortune in another land. In New Zealand the old story may be
forgotten, and, if not, I shall find others as bad as myself. And now
you know, Miss Douglas, why I _hate_ Godfrey Harland. I met him before
we started, and warned him not to come near me during the voyage. He
has chosen to disregard that warning, and we have had a quarrel over
it. If he does it a second time, I have threatened to expose him to the
whole ship’s company, and I will keep my word. I will yet pay Horace
Cain out for the cruel turn he did me years ago.’
‘Oh, Mr Farrell, don’t say that!’ exclaimed Iris, who had grown as
white as a sheet as she listened to the disgraceful story. ‘Hard as it
is for me to say it, remember he is my husband, and I am bound to live
with him. For God’s sake don’t make my position worse than it need be.
I can’t tell you how I dread the prospect now. But as the wife of _a
forger_! Oh, heavens! it is too much, even for _me_ to bear!’
And she drooped her head upon the table and buried her face in her
hands.
‘_Too much_,’ repeated Farrell. ‘I should think it _was_ too much. It
is sacrilege to think of such a thing. Miss Douglas, you must not go
back to him. He is not worthy of a second thought from you. By your own
confession, he has made you miserable--else why are you following him
under an assumed name, instead of openly proclaiming yourself his wife?’
‘I was afraid,’ faltered Iris. ‘He deserted me,--left me to starve
and--’
‘And took to courting Miss Vansittart instead. Cannot you see the
little game he is playing now, Miss Douglas. He wants to add bigamy
to his other misdemeanours. He has an idea of marrying his employer’s
daughter, and getting a handsome dowry with her, I suppose. I know he
has given himself out as an unmarried man, and all the ship imagines
they are an engaged couple.’
‘Maggie has told me the same,’ cried Iris excitedly, ‘but I cannot
believe it. How could he be so foolish, when he knows that I live,
and any mail might take out a letter to reveal the truth. Besides,
notwithstanding all his unkindness to me, I _did_ think sometimes that
he loved me a little.’
‘There speaks your woman’s vanity, Miss Douglas, and not your common
sense. How can any man _love_ the woman whom he makes miserable. But if
you doubt his motives respecting Miss Vansittart, watch them, and judge
for yourself.’
‘How can I watch them from this cabin. I only see them sometimes in
the evenings walking together on the poop.’
‘They have theatricals to-night, you know, in the little theatre that
the sailors rigged up in the after-part of the vessel. Go and see them,
and you will probably have a domestic drama enacted for your private
benefit. Both Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart have refused to act. They
prefer sitting together in the semi-darkness in front. Take my advice,
and when you come back to this cabin, you will tell me your mind is
made up.’
‘But if I should be seen? I have been so very careful since coming on
board, to keep out of his way.’
‘But _why_? What is your object in concealing yourself, now that we are
out at sea?’
‘I don’t quite know,’ faltered Iris; ‘but I am so afraid of him. He is
so violent, you know, when he is disturbed.’
‘And will he be less so on land? Or do you think you will have more
protection from him there than here? Miss Douglas, excuse me for saying
I think you are quite wrong. As you _have_ followed him (which seems to
have been a great mistake to me), the sooner you discover yourself the
better. Every day you keep the truth from him you increase the chance
of Miss Vansittart being made as unhappy as yourself. I don’t know what
sort of a girl she is, but since _you_ could be deceived by his false
tongue into believing him to be good and true, I suppose she may be the
same.’
‘Oh, how I wish I had never followed him!’ exclaimed Iris; ‘but what
was I to do? He left us (Maggie and me) without money or credit
or anything, just to steal or starve as we thought fit. And I was
indignant with him, and I knew it was his duty to support me, and so I
decided to come too. And now I feel as if I would rather drown than go
through what lies before me.’
‘Don’t think of yourself. Think of Miss Vansittart,’ urged Farrell. ‘It
is bitterly unfair that she should be a victim as well as you.’
‘Yes, I _will_ think of her, poor girl,’ said Iris, ‘and if I am
convinced that Godfrey means harm to her--’
‘Watch them when they think they are unobserved, and you will soon
be convinced of it, Miss Douglas. The sailors could tell you some
fine stories of their sweethearting on deck after dark. The girl is
infatuated with him. And I think his only object is to get her so
completely in his power that she shall marry him on landing, whether
her parents consent to it or not.’
‘It shall never go as far as that,’ said Iris, clenching her teeth.
‘Then prevent it going any further now, for the sake of your own
dignity, and that of your sex, Miss Douglas. You may think you know Mr
Harland’s character thoroughly, but I am sure you are not aware of
half of what he is capable. Let me take you to the performance this
evening, and I will guarantee you shall not be discovered. You can
pretend you have the faceache, and wrap your head up in a veil, and I
will place you in a dark corner where you shall see without being seen.’
‘Yes! I _will_ go,’ replied Iris determinedly. ‘Even if the price were
to be instantaneous discovery, I would go.’
‘And if you find the case to be as I have described it to you?’
‘If I have self-evident proofs that my husband is deceiving this girl
by making love to her, I will go to him at once, and tell him I have
discovered his plans, and will circumvent them.’
‘Bravo! Miss Douglas. That is spoken like a brave woman. I was certain
you would eventually decide _that_ to be the only honest course before
you. But why are you crying? Surely you do not consider Godfrey
Harland to be worthy of your tears?’
‘Oh, Mr Farrell! you do not understand,’ sobbed Iris. ‘You do not know
how hard it is for a woman to come to the conclusion that she has
been wasting all her love on an unworthy object. I am not weeping for
the loss of _him_. I am weeping for the loss of my self-respect,--of
my faith in my fellow-creatures,--my faith in my own judgment and
discrimination. I feel so crushed--so humiliated--so ashamed, and as if
I never could put trust in anything on earth again.’
‘Well! I don’t know as it’s wise to do it at any time,’ replied
Farrell; ‘but “one swallow doesn’t make a summer.” You should take
pattern by Maggie. She seems to have had a rough time of it, poor
child, but she’s willing to throw it all behind her back, and try
again.’
‘_Has_ Maggie been unhappy?’ inquired Iris, drying her eyes. She never
told me so. And yet sometimes I have fancied there was _something_
which she kept to herself, when she has been particularly kind and
loving to me. Oh! she is a dear good girl, Mr Farrell, and I am sure
she will repay your love to her. I cannot tell you what she has been to
me all through my wretched married life.’
‘Well, the ways of women are queer,’ said Farrell, scratching his head
thoughtfully, ‘and I don’t pretend to understand them. But I’m sure of
one thing, that whatever Maggie is, or has been, she loves you, Miss
Douglas, just like her own life. And she’d give up her life for yours
any day into the bargain. I’m as sure of it as I am that there’s a
heaven above us.’
‘And so am I,’ responded Iris warmly, as she made her escape to her own
cabin.
END OF VOL. II.
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.