THE END OF IT ALL
Two years after the discovery of Rhoda's guilt, Mr. and Mrs. Denzil were
seated in the garden of Berwin Manor. It was a perfect summer evening,
at the sunset hour, something like that evening when, in the same
garden, almost at the same time, Lucian had asked Diana to be his wife.
But between then and now twenty-four months had elapsed, and many things
had taken place of more or less importance to the young couple.
The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; Lydia had been set free as
innocent of crime; her father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain the
assurance money, had been condemned to a long term of imprisonment, and,
what most concerned Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and truly
gone the way of all flesh.
After the conclusion of the Vrain case Lucian had become formally
engaged to Diana, but it was agreed between them that the marriage
should not take place for some time on account of her father's health.
After his discharge as cured from the asylum of Dr. Jorce, Miss Vrain
had taken her father down to his own place in the country, and there
tended him with the most affectionate solicitude, in the hope that he
would recover his health. But the hope was vain, for by his
over-indulgence in morphia, his worrying and wandering, and irregular
mode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his health. He lapsed into
a state of second childhood, and, being deprived of the drugs which
formerly had excited him to a state of frenzy, sank into a pitiable
condition. For days he would remain without speaking to any one, and
even ceased to take a pleasure in his books. Finally his limbs became
paralysed, and so he spent the last few months of his wretched life in a
bath-chair, being wheeled round the garden.
Still, his constitution was so strong that he lived for quite twelve
months after his return to his home, and died unexpectedly in his sleep.
Diana was not sorry when he passed so easily away, for death was a
merciful release of his tortured soul from his worn-out body. So Mark
Vrain died, and was buried, and after the funeral Diana went abroad,
with Miss Priscilla Barbar for a companion.
In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky London, and worked hard
at his profession. He was beginning to be known, and in time actually
received a brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still, he
was far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be, for law, of
all professions, is one which demands time and industry for the
attainment of any degree of excellence. It is rarely that a young
lawyer can go to sleep and wake to find himself famous; he must crawl
rather than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance of every
chance, in time the wished-for goal is reached, although that goal, in
nine cases out of ten, is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did not
sigh for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content to
be a barrister with a good practice, and perhaps a Q.C.-ship in
prospect. However, during the year of Diana's mourning he did so well
that he felt justified in asking her to marry him when she returned.
Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle to this course, so she consented.
"If you are not rich, my dear, I am," she said, when Lucian alleged his
poverty as the only bar to their union, "and as money gives me no
pleasure without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor in lonely
spinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever you choose."
And Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious permission, did choose to
be married, and that speedily; so within two years after the final
closing of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At the time they
were seated in the garden, at the hour of sunset, they had only lately
returned from their honeymoon, and were now talking over past
experiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in charge of the Manor
during their absence, had welcomed them back with much joy, as she
looked upon the match as one of her own making. Now she had gone inside,
on the understanding that two are company and three are none, and the
young couple were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish fashion of
lovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, and the sunlight glowed redly
on their happy faces. After a short silence Lucian looked at the face of
his wife and laughed.
"What is amusing you, dear?" said Mrs. Denzil, with a sympathetic smile.
"My thoughts were rather pleasant than amusing," replied Lucian, giving
the hand that lay in his a squeeze, "but I was thinking of Hans
Andersen's tale of the Elder Mother Tree, and of the old couple who sat
enjoying their golden wedding under the linden, with the red sunlight
shining on their silver crowns."
"We are under an oak and wear no crowns," replied Diana in her turn,
"but we are quite as happy, I think, although it is not our golden
wedding."
"Perhaps that will come some day, Diana."
"Fifty years, my dear; it's a long way off yet," said Mrs. Denzil
dubiously.
"I am glad it is, for I shall have (D.V.,) fifty years of happiness with
you to look forward to. Upon my word, Diana, I think you deserve
happiness, after all the trouble you have had."
"With you I am sure to be happy, Lucian, but other people, poor souls,
are not so well off."
"What other people?"
"Jabez Clyne, for one."
"My dear," said Lucian, seriously, "I hope I am not a hard man, but I
really cannot find it in my heart to pity Clyne. He was--and I dare say
is--a scoundrel!"
"I don't deny that he acted badly," sighed Diana, "but it was for his
daughter's sake, you know."
"There is a limit even to paternal affection, Diana. And putting aside
the wickedness of the whole conspiracy, I cannot pardon a man who
deliberately put a weapon in the way of a man almost insane with drink,
in order that he might kill himself. The idea was diabolically wicked,
my dear, and I think that Jabez Clyne, _alias_ Wrent, quite deserves the
long imprisonment he received."
"At all events, the Sirius Company got back their money, Lucian."
"So much as Lydia had not spent they got back, Diana; but when your
father actually died they had to part with it very soon again, and some
of it has gone into Lydia's pocket after all."
Diana blushed. "It was only right, dear," she said, apologetically.
"When my father made his new will, leaving it all to me, I did not think
that Lydia, however badly she treated him, should be left absolutely
penniless. And you know, Lucian, you agreed that I should share the
assurance money with her."
"I did," replied Denzil. "Of two evils I chose the least, for if Lydia
had not got a portion of the money she would have been quite capable of
trying to upset the second will on the ground that Mr. Vrain was
insane."
"Papa was not insane," reproved Diana. "He was weak, I admit, but at
the time he made that will he had all his senses. Besides, after all the
scandal of the case, I don't think Lydia would have dared to go to law
about it. Still, it was best to give her the money, and I hear from Miss
Priscilla that Lydia is now in Italy, and proposes to marry an Italian
prince."
"She has flown higher than a count, then. Poor Ferruci killed himself
for her sake."
"For his own, rather," exclaimed Mrs. Denzil energetically. "He knew
that if he lived he would be punished by imprisonment, so chose to kill
himself rather than suffer such dishonour. I believe he truly loved
Lydia, certainly, but as he wanted the assurance money, I fancy he
sinned quite as much for his own sake as for Lydia's."
"No doubt; and I dare say Lydia loved him, after her own fashion; yet
she seems to have forgotten him pretty soon, and--as you say--intends to
marry a prince. I don't envy his highness."
"She has no heart, so I dare say she will be happy as such women ever
are," said Diana contemptuously, "yet her happiness comes out of much
evil. If she had not married my father, her own would not now be in
prison, nor would Count Ferruci and Rhoda be dead."
"Ferruci, perhaps, might still be alive, and her husband," assented
Lucian, "but I have my doubts about Rhoda. She was a wicked, precocious
little imp, that girl, and sooner or later would have come to a bad end.
The death of Clear was due to an accident, I admit; but Rhoda has still
one person who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan knows the
truth, she always thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr,
who was led into wicked ways by Clyne, _alias_ Wrent."
"I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so."
"Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about in remembering how
narrowly she escaped imprisonment for her share in that shameful
conspiracy. If she had not turned Queen's evidence, she would have been
punished as Clyne was; as it is, she just escaped by an accident. Still,
if it had not been for her, we should never have discovered the truth. I
would never have suspected Clyne, who was always so meek and mild. Even
that visit he paid to me to lament over his daughter's probable marriage
to Ferruci was a trick to find out how much I knew."
"Don't you think he hated Ferruci?"
"No; I am sure he did not. He acted a part to find out what I was doing.
If Mrs. Clear had not betrayed him we should never have discovered the
conspiracy."
"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's death would never
have been solved," said Diana, "although she only confessed at the
eleventh hour, and when she was dying."
"I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved in so unexpected a
way," said Lucian, laughing. "He never forgave my finding out so much
without his aid. He ascribes the ending of the whole matter to chance,
and I dare say he is right."
"H'm!" said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great love for the detective. "He
certainly left everything to chance. Twice he gave up the case.".
"And twice I gave it up," said Denzil. "If it had not been for you,
dear, I should never have gone on with what seemed to be a hopeless
task. But when I first met you you induced me to continue the search for
the culprit, and again when, by the evidence of the missing finger, you
did not believe your father was dead."
"Well, you worked; I worked; Link worked," said Diana, philosophically,
"and we all three did our best to discover the truth."
"Only to let chance discover it in the long run."
Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict her husband. "Well, my
dear," she said, "I think we have discussed the subject pretty freely,
but there is one thing I should like to know. What about the Silent
House in Pimlico?"
"Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that Peacock is going to pull it
down. You know, just before we were married I took leave of Miss Greeb,
with whom I lodged for a long time. Well, she gave me a piece of news.
She is going to be married, also, and to whom, do you think?"
"I don't know," said Diana, looking interested, as women always do in
marriage news.
"To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property in and about Geneva
Square. It will be a splendid match for her, and Mrs. Peacock, will be
much richer than you or I, Diana."
"But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is to be married, as she seemed
a nice woman, and made you very comfortable. But why is the Silent House
to be pulled down?"
"Because no one will live in it."
"But it is not haunted now. You know it was discovered that Rhoda was
the ghost, and the ghost, as Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear."
"It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear," said Lucian gravely. "At all
events, he was murdered there, and no one cares to live in the house. I
confess I shouldn't care to live in it myself. So, Peacock, finding the
house unprofitable, has determined to pull it down."
"So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico," said Diana, rising
and taking her husband's arm. "Come inside, Lucian. It grows chilly."
"'Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear,
Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,'"
quoted Lucian, as they went up to the house. "That is not very good
poetry, but it is a beautiful truth, my love."
Diana laughed, and looked up proudly into the bright face of her
husband.
So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla had made the tea, and
all were very happy, and very thankful for their happiness. In this
condition, which is sufficiently pleasant, I think we may leave them.
THE END