The twilight darkened into night, but Awdrey still remained in the
office. After a time he groped for a box of matches, found one, struck a
match, took a pair of heavy silver candlesticks from a cupboard in the
wall, lit the candles which were in them, and then put them on his
office table. The room was a large one, and the light of the two candles
seemed only to make the darkness visible. Awdrey went to the table,
seated himself in the old chair which his father and his grandfather had
occupied before him, and began mechanically to arrange some papers, and
put a pile of other things in order. His nature was naturally full of
system; from his childhood up he had hated untidiness of all sorts.
While he was so engaged there came a knock at the office door. He rose,
went across the room, and opened it; a footman stood without.
"Mrs. Awdrey has sent me to ask you, sir, if you are ready for dinner."
"Tell your mistress that I am not coming in to dinner," replied Awdrey.
"Ask her not to wait for me; I am particularly busy, and will have
something later."
The man, with an immovable countenance, turned away. Awdrey once more
locked the office door. He now drew down the remaining blinds to the
other two windows, and began to pace up and down the long room. The
powers of good and evil were at this moment fighting for his soul--he
knew it; there was a tremendous conflict raging within him; it seemed to
tear his life in two; beads of perspiration stood on his brow. He knew
that either the God who made him or the devil would have won the victory
before he left that room.
"I must make my decision once for all," he said to himself. "I am wide
awake; my whole intellectual nature is full of vigor; I have no excuse
whatever; the matter must be finally settled now. If I follow the
devil----" he shrank as the words formed themselves out of his brain; he
had naturally the utmost loathing for evil in any form, his nature was
meant to be upright; at school he had been one of the good boys; one of
the boys to whom low vices, dishonorable actions of any kind, were
simply impossible; he had had his weaknesses, for who has not?--but
these weaknesses were all more or less akin to the virtues.
"If I choose the devil!" he repeated. Once again he faltered, trembling
violently; he had come to the part of the room where his father's old
desk was situated, he leaned up against it and gazed gloomily out into
the darkness which confronted him.
"I know exactly what will happen if I follow the downward path," he said
again. "I must force myself to think wrong right, and right wrong. There
is no possible way for me to live this life of deception except by
deceiving myself. Must I decide to-night?"
He staggered into the chair which his father used to occupy. His father
had been a man full of rectitude; the doom of the house had never
overtaken him; he had been a man with an almost too severe and lofty
code of honor. Awdrey remembered all about his father as he sat in that
chair. He sprang again to his feet.
"There is no use in putting off the hour, for the hour has come," he
thought. "This is the state of the case. God and the devil are with me
to-night. I cannot lie in the presence of such awful, such potent
Forces. I must face the thing as it is. This is what has happened to me.
I, who would not willingly in my sober senses, hurt the smallest insect
that crawls on the earth, once, nearly six years ago, in a sudden moment
of passion killed a man. He attacked me, and I defended myself. I killed
him in self-defence. I no more meant to kill him than I mean to commit
murder to-night. Notwithstanding that fact I did it. Doubtless the
action came over me as a tremendous shock--immediately after the deed
the doom of my house fell on me, and I forgot all about what I myself
had done--for five years the memory of it never returned to me. Now I
know all about it. At the present moment another man is suffering in my
stead. Now if I follow the devil I shall be a brute and a scoundrel; the
other man will go on suffering, and his mother, whose heart is already
broken, may die before he recovers his liberty. Thus I shall practically
kill two lives. No one will know--no one will guess that I am leading a
shadowed life. I feel strong enough now to cover up the deed, to hide
away the remorse. I feel not the least doubt that I shall be outwardly
successful--the respect of my fellow-men will follow me--the love of
many will be given to me. By and by I may have children, and they will
love me as I loved my father, and Margaret will look up to me and
consult me as my mother looked up to and consulted my father, and my
honor will be considered above reproach. My people too will rejoice to
have me back with them. I can serve them if I am returned for this
constituency--in short, I can live a worthy and respected life. The
devil will have his way, but no one will guess that it is the devil's
way--I shall seem to live the life of an angel."
Awdrey paused here in his own thought.
"I feel as if the devil were laughing at me," he said, speaking half
aloud, and looking again into the darkness of the room--"he knows that
his hour will come--by and by my span of life will run out--eventually I
shall reach the long end of the long way. But until that time, day by
day, and hour by hour, I shall live the life of the hypocrite. Like a
whited sepulchre shall I be truly, for I shall carry hell here. By and
by I shall have to answer for all at a Higher Tribunal, and meanwhile I
shall carry hell here." He pressed his hand to his breast--his face was
ghastly. "Shall I follow the devil? Suppose I do not, what then?"
There came another tap at the office door. Awdrey went across the room
and opened it. He started and uttered a smothered oath, for Margaret
stood on the threshold.
"Go away now, Maggie, I can't see you; I am very much engaged," he said.
Instead of obeying him she stepped across the threshold.
"But you have no one with you," she said, looking into the darkness of
the room. "What are you doing, Robert, all by yourself? You look very
white and tired. We have finished dinner--my uncle has come over from
Cuthbertstown, and would like to see you--they all think it strange your
being away. What is the matter? Won't you return with me to the house?"
"I cannot yet. I am particularly engaged."
"But what about? Uncle James will be much disappointed if he does not
see you."
"I'll come to him presently when I have thought out a problem."
Margaret turned herself now in such a position that she could see her
husband's face. Something in his eyes seemed to speak straight to her
sympathies,--she put her arms round his neck.
"Don't think any more now, my darling," she said. "Remember, though you
are so well, that you were once very ill. You have had no dinner, it is
not right for you to starve yourself and tire yourself. Come home with
me, Robert, come home!"
"Not yet," he replied. "There is a knot which I must untie. I am
thinking a very grave problem out. I shall have no rest, no peace, until
I have made up my mind."
"What can be the matter?" inquired Margaret. "Can I help you in any
way?"
"No, my dearest," he answered very tenderly, "except by leaving me."
"Is it anything to do with accounts?" she asked. She glanced at the
table with its pile of letters and papers. "If so, I could really render
you assistance; I used to keep accounts for Uncle James in the old days.
Two brains are better than one. Let me help you."
"It is a mental problem, Maggie; it relates to morals."
"Oh, dear me, Robert, you are quite mysterious," she said with a ghost
of a smile; but then she met his eyes and the trouble in them startled
her.
"I wish I could help you," she said. "Do let me."
"You cannot," he replied harshly, for the look in her face added to his
tortures. "I shall come to a conclusion presently. When I come to it I
will return to the house."
"Then we are not to wait up for you? It is getting quite late, long past
nine o'clock."
"Do not wait up for me; leave the side door on the latch; I'll come in
presently when I have made up my mind on this important matter."
She approached the door unwillingly; when she reached the threshold she
turned and faced him.
"I cannot but see that you are worried about something," she said. "I
know, Robert, that you will have strength to do what is right. I cannot
imagine what your worry can be, but a moral problem with you must mean
the victory of right over wrong."
"Maggie, you drive me mad," he called after her, but his voice was
hoarse, and it did not reach her ears. She closed the door, and he heard
her retreating footsteps on the gravel outside. He locked the door once
more.
"There spoke God and my good angel," he murmured to himself. "Help me,
Powers of Evil, if I am to follow you; give me strength to walk the path
of the lowest."
These words had scarcely risen in the form of an awful prayer when once
again he heard his wife's voice at the door. She was tapping and calling
to him at the same time. He opened the door.
"Well?" he said.
"I am sorry to disturb you," she replied, "but you really must put off
all your reflections for the time being. Who do you think has just
arrived?"
"Who?" he asked in a listless voice.
"Your old friend and mine, Dr. Rumsey."
"Rumsey!" replied Awdrey, "he would be a strong advocate on your side,
Maggie."
"On my side?" she queried.
"I cannot explain myself. I think I'll see Rumsey. It would be possible
for me to put a question to him which I could not put to you--ask him to
come to me."
"He shall come at once," she answered, "I am heartily glad that he is
here."
So he turned back and went to the house--she ran up the front
steps--Rumsey was in the hall.
"My hearty congratulations," he said, coming up to her. "Your letter
contained such good news that I could not forbear hurrying down to
Grandcourt to take a peep at my strange patient; I always call Awdrey my
strange patient. Is it true that he is now quite well?"
"Half an hour ago I should have said yes," replied Margaret; "but----"
"Any recurrence of the old symptoms?" asked the doctor.
"No, nothing of that sort. Perhaps the excitement has been too much for
him. Come into the library, will you?"
She entered as she spoke, the doctor following her.
"I wrote to you when I was abroad," continued Margaret, "telling you the
simple fact that my husband's state of health had gone from better to
better. He recovered tone of mind and body in the most rapid degree.
This morning I considered him a man of perfect physical health and of
keen brilliant intellect. You know during the five years when the cloud
was over his brain he refused to read, and lost grip of all passing
events. There is no subject now of general interest that he cannot talk
about--all matters of public concern arouse his keenest sympathies.
To-day he has been nominated to stand for his constituency, vacant by
the death of our late member. I have no doubt that he will represent us
in the House when Parliament next sits."
"Or perhaps before this one rises," said the doctor. "Well, Mrs. Awdrey,
all this sounds most encouraging, but your 'but' leads to something not
so satisfactory, does it not?"
"That is so; at the present moment I do not like his state. He was out
and about all day, but instead of returning home to dinner went straight
to his office, where he now is. As far as I can see, he is doing no
special work, but he will not come into the house. He tells me that he
is facing a problem which he also says is a moral one. He refuses to
leave the office until he has come to a satisfactory conclusion."
"Come, he is overdoing it," said the doctor.
"I think so. I told him just now that you had arrived; he asked me to
bring you to him; will you come?"
"With pleasure."
"Can you do without a meal until you have seen him?"
"Certainly; take me to him at once."
Mrs. Awdrey left the house, and took Dr. Rumsey round by the side walk
which led to the office. The door was now slightly ajar; Margaret
entered the doctor following behind her.
"Well, my friend," said Dr. Rumsey, in his cheerful voice, "it is good
to see you back in your old place again. Your wife's letter was so
satisfactory that I could not resist the temptation of coming to see you
for myself."
"I am in perfect health," replied Awdrey. "Sit down, won't you, Rumsey?
Margaret, my dear, do you mind leaving us?"
"No, Robert," she answered. "I trust to Dr. Rumsey to bring you back to
your senses."
"She does not know what she is saying," muttered Awdrey. He followed his
wife to the door, and when she went out turned the key in the lock.
"It is a strange thing," he said, the moment he found himself alone with
his guest, "that you, Rumsey, should be here at this moment. You were
with me during the hour of my keenest and most terrible physical and
mental degradation; you have now come to see me through the hour of my
moral degradation--or victory."
"Your moral degradation or victory?" said the doctor; "what does this
mean?"
"It simply means this, Dr. Rumsey; I am the unhappy possessor of a
secret."
"Ah!"
"Yes--a secret. Were this secret known my wife's heart would be broken,
and this honorable house of which I am the last descendant would go to
complete shipwreck. I don't talk of myself in the matter."
"Do you mean to confide in me?" asked the doctor, after a pause.
"I cannot; for the simple reason, that if I told you everything you
would be bound as a man and a gentleman to take steps to insure the
downfall which I dread."
"Are you certain that you are not suffering from delusion?"
"No, doctor, I wish I were."
"You certainly look sane enough," said the doctor, examining his patient
with one of his penetrating glances. "You must allow me to congratulate
you. If I had not seen you with my own eyes I could never have believed
in such a reformation. You are bronzed; your frame has widened; you have
not a scrap of superfluous flesh about you. Let me feel your arm; my
dear sir, your muscle is to be envied."
"I was famed for my athletic power long ago," said Awdrey, with a grim
smile. "But now, doctor, to facts. You have come here; it is possible
for me to take you into my confidence to a certain extent. Will you
allow me to state my case?"
"As you intend only to state it partially it will be difficult for me to
advise you," said the doctor.
"Still, will you listen?"
"I'll listen."
"Well, the fact is this," said Awdrey, rising, "either God or the devil
take possession of me to-night."
"Come, come," said Rumsey, "you are exaggerating the state of the case."
"I am not. I am going through the most desperate fight that ever
assailed a man. I may get out on the side of good, but at the present
moment I must state frankly that all my inclinations tend to getting out
of this struggle on the side which will put me into the Devil's hands."
"Come," said the doctor again, "if that is so there can be no doubt with
regard to your position. You must close with right even though it is a
struggle. You confess to possessing a secret; that secret is the cause
of your misery; there is a right and a wrong to it?"
"Undoubtedly; a very great right and a very grave wrong."
"Then, Awdrey, do not hesitate; be man enough to do the right."
Awdrey turned white.
"You are the second person who has come here to-night and advised me on
the side of God," he said.
"Out with your trouble, man, and relieve your mind."
"When I relieve my mind," said Awdrey, "my wife's heart will break, and
our house will be ruined."
"What about you?"
"I shall go under."
"I doubt very much if your doing right would ever break a heart like
your wife's," said Rumsey, "but doing wrong would undoubtedly crush her
spirit."
"There you are again--will no one take the Devil's part? Dr. Rumsey, I
firmly believe that it is much owing to your influence that I am now in
my sane mind. I believe that it is owing to you that the doom of my
house has been lifted from my brain. When I think of the path which you
now advocate, I could curse the day when you brought me back to health
and sanity. A very little influence on the other side, a mere letting me
alone, and I should now either be a madman or in my grave; then I would
have carried my secret to the bitter end. As it is----"
There was a noise heard outside--the sound made by a faltering footstep.
The brush of a woman's dress was distinctly audible against the door;
this was followed by a timid knock.
"Who is disturbing us now?" said Awdrey, with irritation.
"I'll open the door and see," said the doctor.
He crossed the room as he spoke and opened the door. An untidily dressed
girl with a ghastly white face stood without. When the door was opened
she peered anxiously into the room.
"Is Mr. Awdrey in?--yes, I see him. I must speak to him at once."
She staggered across the threshold.
"I must see you alone, Squire," she said--"quite alone and at once."
"This has to do with the matter under consideration," said the Squire.
"Come in, Hetty; sit down. Rumsey, you had best leave us."