Doctor Phillips was a man of sixty, and a bachelor. He had never
made any home ties for himself, and was therefore more interested in
Margaret Pullen (whose father had been one of his dearest friends) than
he might otherwise have been. He feared that a heavy trial lay before
her and he was unwilling to see it aggravated by any misconduct on the
part of her brother-in-law. He could see that the young man was (to
say the least of it) not behaving fairly towards his _fiancée_, Elinor
Leyton, and he was determined to open his eyes to the true state of
affairs with regard to Harriet Brandt. He spent a sleepless night,
his last visit to Margaret’s suffering child having strengthened his
opinion as to her hopeless condition, and he lay awake wondering how
he should break the news to the poor young mother. He rose with the
intention of speaking to Ralph without delay, but he found it more
difficult to get a word with him than he had anticipated. The Gobelli
party had decided to start with the Brimonts that afternoon, and
Captain Pullen stuck to them the entire morning, ostensibly to assist
the Baroness in her preparations for departure, but in reality, as
anyone could see, to linger by the side of Miss Brandt. Miss Leyton
perceived her lover’s defalcation as plainly as the rest, but she was
too proud to make a hint upon the subject, even to Margaret Pullen. She
sat alone in the balcony, reading a book, and gave no sign of annoyance
or discomfiture. But a close observer might have seen the trembling of
her lip when she attempted to speak, and the fixed, white look upon her
face, which betrayed her inward anxiety. It made Margaret’s kind heart
ache to see her, and Dr. Phillips more indignant with Ralph Pullen than
before.
The party for Brussels had arranged to travel by the three o’clock
train, and at the appointed time the doctor was ready in the balcony
to accompany them to the _entrepôt_. There were no cabs in Heyst, the
station being in the town. Luggage was conveyed backwards and forwards
in hand carts drawn by the porters, and travellers invariably walked
to their destination. The Baroness appeared dressed for her journey,
in an amazing gown of blue velvet, trimmed with rare Maltese lace,
with a heavy mantle over it, and a small hat on her head, which made
her round, flat, unmeaning face, look coarser than before. She used
the Herr Baron as a walking-stick as usual, whilst Harriet Brandt, in
a white frock and large hat shading her glowing eyes under a scarlet
parasol, looked like a tropical bird skimming by her side, with Captain
Pullen in close attendance, carrying a flimsy wrap in case she
should require it before she reached her journey’s end. The Brimonts,
following in the rear, were of no account beside their more brilliant
and important friends.
Ralph Pullen did not look pleased when he saw Doctor Phillips join the
party.
“Are you also going to the _entrepôt_?” he exclaimed, “what can you
find to interest you there?--a dirty little smutty place! I am going
just to help the ladies over the line, as there is no bridge for
crossing.”
“Perhaps I am bent on the same errand,” replied the doctor, “do you
give me credit for less gallantry than yourself, Pullen?”
“That’s right, Doctor,” said the Baroness, “and I’ve no doubt you’ll be
very useful! My Bobby ain’t any manner of good, and the Baron ’as so
many traps to carry that ’e ’asn’t got an arm to spare. I only wish you
were coming with us! Why don’t you make up your mind to come over with
Captain Pullen the day after to-morrow, and ’ave a little ’oliday?”
“I was not aware that Captain Pullen _was_ going to Brussels, madame! I
fancy he will have to get Miss Leyton’s consent first!”
At the mention of Miss Leyton’s name in connection with himself, Ralph
Pullen flushed uneasily, and Harriet Brandt turned a look of startled
enquiry upon the speaker.
“O! ’ang Miss Leyton!” retorted the Baroness, graphically, “she surely
wouldn’t stop Captain Pullen’s fun, just because ’e’s staying with ’is
sister-in-law! I should call that very ’ard. You can’t always tie a
young man to ’is relations’ apron-strings, Doctor!”
“Not always, madame!” he replied, and dropped the subject.
“You wouldn’t let Miss Leyton or Mrs. Pullen keep you from me!”
whispered Harriet, to her cavalier.
“Never!” he answered emphatically.
They had reached the little station by this time, and the porters
were calling out vociferously that the train was about to start
for Brussels, so that in the hurry of procuring their tickets, and
conveying the ladies and the luggage across the cinder-besprinkled
line, to where the train stood puffing to be off, there was no more
time to exchange sentimentalities, or excite suspicion. The party
being safely stowed away in their carriage, Ralph Pullen and Doctor
Phillips stood on the wooden platform with their hats off, bowing their
farewells.
“Mind you don’t put off your coming after Thursday!” screamed the
Baroness to Ralph, as she filled up the entire window with her bulky
person, “we shall expect you by dinner-time! And I shall bespeak a
room for you, whether you will or no! ’Arriet ’ere will break ’er
’eart if you don’t turn up, and I don’t want the responsibility of ’er
committing suicide on my ’ands!”
“All right! all right!” responded Ralph, pretending to turn it off as a
joke, “None of you shall do that on my account, I promise you!”
“O! well! I ’ope you’re going to keep your word, or we shall come back
to ’Eyst in double quick time. Good-bye! Good-bye!” and kissing her fat
hand to the two gentlemen, the Baroness was whisked out of Heyst.
Ralph looked longingly after the departing line of carriages for a
minute, and then crossed the line again to the road beyond.
Doctor Phillips did not say a word till they were well clear of the
station, and then he commenced,
“Of course you’re not in earnest about following these people to
Brussels.”
“Why should I not be? I knew Brussels well as a lad, and I should enjoy
renewing my acquaintance with the old town.”
“In proper company perhaps, but you can hardly call that party a fit
one for you to associate with!”
“You’re alluding to the Baron and Baroness being in trade. Well! as
a rule I confess that I do not care to associate intimately with
bootmakers and their friends, but one does things abroad that one
would not dream of doing in England. And for all her vulgarity, Madame
Gobelli is very good-natured and generous, and I really don’t see that
I lower my dignity by being on friendly terms with her whilst here!”
“I was not alluding to Madame Gobelli, though I do not think that
either she or the Brimonts are fit companions for a man who belongs
to the Limerick Rangers, or is engaged to marry the daughter of Lord
Walthamstowe. Neither do I admire the spirit which would induce you
to hobnob with them in Heyst, when you would cut them in Bond Street.
But as far as I know the Baron and his wife are harmless. It is Miss
Harriet Brandt that I would caution you against!”
A quick resentment appeared on Ralph Pullen’s features. His eyes
darkened, and an ominous wrinkle stood out on his brow.
“And what may you have to say of Miss Brandt?” he demanded, coldly.
“A great deal more than you know, or can possibly imagine! She is not a
fit person for Elinor Leyton to associate with, and consequently, one
whom it is your duty to avoid, instead of cultivating.”
“I think you exceed _your_ duty, Doctor, in speaking to me thus!”
“I am sorry you should think so, Pullen, but your anger will not deter
me from telling you what is in my mind. You must not forget how old a
friend I am of both sides of your family. Your brother Arthur is one
of my greatest chums, and his wife’s father was, without exception,
my dearest friend--added to this, I am on intimate terms with the
Walthamstowes. Knowing what I do, therefore, I should hold myself
criminal if I left you in ignorance of the truth concerning this young
woman.”
“Are you alluding, may I ask, to Miss Brandt?”
“I am alluding to the girl who calls herself by that name, but who is
in reality only the bastard daughter of Henry Brandt, one of the most
infamous men whom God ever permitted to desecrate this earth, and his
half-caste mistress.”
“Be careful what you say, Doctor Phillips!” said Ralph Pullen, with
ill-suppressed wrath gleaming in his blue eyes.
“There is no need to be, my dear fellow, I can verify everything I
say, and I fear no man’s resentment. I was stationed in Jamaica with
my regiment, some fifteen years ago, when this girl was a child of six
years old, running half naked about her father’s plantation, uncared
for by either parent, and associating solely with the negro servants.
Brandt was a brute--the perpetrator of such atrocities in vivisection
and other scientific experiments, that he was finally slaughtered on
his own plantation by his servants, and everyone said it served him
right. The mother was the most awful woman I have ever seen, and my
experience of the sex in back slums and alleys has not been small.
She was the daughter of a certain Judge Carey of Barbadoes by one of
his slave girls, and Brandt took her as his mistress before she was
fourteen. At thirty, when I saw her, she was a revolting spectacle.
Gluttonous and obese--her large eyes rolling and her sensual lips
protruding as if she were always licking them in anticipation of her
prey. She was said to be ‘Obeah’ too by the natives and they ascribed
all the deaths and diseases that took place on the plantation, to her
malign influence. Consequently, when they got her in their clutches,
I have heard that they did not spare her, but killed her in the most
torturing fashion they could devise.”
“And did the British Government take no notice of the massacre?”
“There was an enquiry, of course, but the actual perpetrator of the
murders could not be traced, and so the matter died out. The hatred
and suspicion in which Brandt had been held for some time, had a great
effect upon the verdict, for in addition to his terrible experiments
upon animals--experiments which he performed simply for his own
gratification and for no use that he made of them in treating his
fellow creatures--he had been known to decoy diseased and old natives
into his laboratory, after which they were never seen again, and it was
the digging up of human bones on the plantation, which finally roused
the negroes to such a pitch of indignation that they rose _en masse_,
and after murdering both Brandt and his abominable mistress, they set
fire to the house and burned it to the ground. There is no doubt but
that, if the overseer of the plantation, an African negro named Pete,
had not carried off the little girl, she would have shared the fate of
her parents. And who can say if it would not have been as well if she
had!”
“I really cannot see what right you have to give vent to such a
sentiment!” exclaimed Captain Pullen. “What has this terrible story got
to do with Miss Brandt?”
“Everything! ‘When the cat is black, the kitten is black too!’ It’s the
law of Nature!”
“I don’t believe it! Miss Brandt bears no trace in feature or character
of the parentage you ascribe to her!”
“Does she not? Your assertion only proves your ignorance of character,
or characteristics. The girl is a quadroon, and she shews it distinctly
in her long-shaped eyes with their blue whites and her wide mouth and
blood-red lips! Also in her supple figure and apparently boneless
hands and feet. Of her personal character, I have naturally had no
opportunity of judging, but I can tell you by the way she eats her
food, and the way in which she uses her eyes, that she has inherited
her half-caste mother’s greedy and sensual disposition. And in ten
years’ time she will in all probability have no figure at all! She will
run to fat. I could tell that also at a glance!”
“And have you any more compliments to pay the young lady?” enquired
Captain Pullen, sarcastically.
“I have this still to say, Pullen--that she is a woman whom you
must never introduce to your wife, and that it is your bounden duty
to separate her, as soon as possible, from your _fiancée_ and your
sister-in-law!”
“And what if I refuse to interfere in a matter which, as far as I can
see, concerns no one but Miss Brandt herself?”
“In that case, I regret to say that I shall feel it _my_ duty, to
inform your brother Colonel Pullen and your future father-in-law, Lord
Walthamstowe of what I have told you! Come, my dear boy, be reasonable!
This girl has attracted you, I suppose! We are all subject to a woman’s
influence at times, but you must not let it go further. You must break
it off, and this is an excellent opportunity to do so! Your sister’s
infant is, I fear, seriously ill. Take your party on to Ostende, and
send the Baroness a polite note to say that you are prevented from
going to Brussels, and all will be right! You will take my advice--will
you not?”
“No! I’ll be hanged if I will,” exclaimed the young man, “I am not a
boy to be ordered here and there, as if I were not fit to take care
of myself. I’ve pledged my word to go to Brussels and to Brussels I
shall go. If Miss Leyton doesn’t like it, she must do the other thing!
She does not shew me such a superfluity of affection as to prevent the
necessity of my seeking for sympathy and friendship elsewhere.”
“I am sorry to hear you speak like that, Pullen. It does not augur well
for the happiness of your married life!”
“I have thought more than once lately, that I shall not be married at
all--that is to Miss Leyton!”
“No! no! don’t say so. It is only a passing infidelity, engendered by
the attraction of this other girl. Consider what your brother would
say, and what Lord Walthamstowe would think, if you committed the
great mistake at this late hour, of breaking off your engagement!”
“I cannot see why my brother’s opinion, or Lord Walthamstowe’s
thoughts, should interfere with the happiness of my whole life,”
rejoined Ralph, sullenly. “However, let that pass! The question on the
_tapis_ is, my acquaintance with Miss Brandt, which you consider should
be put a stop to. For what reason? If what you bring against her is
true, it appears to me that she has all the more need of the protection
and loyalty of her friends. It would be cowardly to desert a girl, just
because her father and mother happened to be brutes. It is not _her_
fault!”
“I quite allow that! Neither is it the fault of a madman that his
progenitors had lunacy in their blood, nor of a consumptive, that his
were strumous. All the same the facts affect their lives and the lives
of those with whom they come in contact. It is the curse of heredity!”
“Well! and if so, how can it concern anyone but the poor child herself?”
“O! yes, it can and it will! And if I am not greatly mistaken, Harriet
Brandt carries a worse curse with her even than that! She possesses
the fatal attributes of the Vampire that affected her mother’s
birth--that endued her with the thirst for blood, which characterised
her life--that will make Harriet draw upon the health and strength of
all with whom she may be intimately associated--that may render her
love fatal to such as she may cling to! I must tell you, Pullen, that
I fear we have already proofs of this in the illness of your little
niece, whom, her mother tells me, was at one time scarcely ever out of
Miss Brandt’s arms. I have no other means of accounting for her sudden
failure of strength and vitality. You need not stare at me, as if you
thought I do not know what I am talking about! There are many cases
like it in the world. Cases of persons who actually feed upon the lives
of others, as the deadly upas tree sucks the life of its victim, by
lulling him into a sleep from which he never wakens!”
“Phillips, you must be mad! Do you know that you are accusing Miss
Brandt of murder--of killing the child to whom she never shewed
anything but the greatest kindness. Why! I have known her carry little
Ethel about the sands for a whole afternoon.”
“All the worse for poor little Ethel! I do not say she does harm
intentionally or even consciously, but that the deadly attributes of
her bloodthirsty parents have descended on her in this respect, I have
not a shadow of doubt! If you watch that young woman’s career through
life, you will see that those she apparently cares for most, and clings
to most, will soonest fade out of existence, whilst she continues to
live all the stronger that her victims die!”
“Rubbish! I don’t believe it!” replied Ralph sturdily. “You medical
men generally have some crotchet in your brains, but this is the most
wonderful bee that ever buzzed in a bonnet! And all I can say is, that
I should be quite willing to try the experiment!”
“You _have_ tried it, Pullen, in a mild form, and it has had its effect
on you! You are not the same fellow who came over to Heyst, though by
all rules, you should be looking better and stronger for the change.
And Margaret has already complained to me of the strange effect this
girl has had upon her! But you must not breathe a suspicion to her
concerning the child’s illness, or I verily believe she would murder
Miss Brandt!”
“Putting all this nonsense aside,” said Ralph, “do you consider
Margaret’s baby to be seriously ill?”
“Very seriously. My medicines have not had the slightest effect upon
her condition, which is inexplicable. Her little life is being slowly
sapped. She may cease to breathe at any moment. But I have not yet had
the courage to tell your sister the truth!”
“How disappointed poor Arthur will be!”
“Yes! but his grief will be nothing to the mother’s. She is quite
devoted to her child!”
By mutual consent, they had dropped the subject of Harriet Brandt, and
now spoke only of family affairs. Ralph was a kind-hearted fellow under
all his conceit, and felt very grave at the prospect held out in regard
to his baby niece.
The fulfilment of the prophecy came sooner than even Doctor
Phillips had anticipated. As they were all sitting at dinner that
evening, Madame Lamont, her eyes over-brimming with tears, rushed
unceremoniously into the _salle à manger_, calling to Margaret.
“Madame! Madame! please come up to your room at once! The dear baby is
worse!”
Margaret threw one agonised glance at Doctor Phillips and rushed from
the room, followed by himself and Elinor Leyton. The high staircase
seemed interminable--more than once Margaret’s legs failed under her
and she thought she should never reach the top. But she did so all too
soon. On the bed was laid the infant form, limp and lifeless, and
Martin the nurse met them at the door, bathed in tears.
“Oh! Ma’am!” she cried, “it happened all of a minute! She was lying on
my lap, pretty dear, just as usual, when she went off in a convulsion
and died.”
“Died, died!” echoed Margaret in a bewildered voice, “Doctor Phillips!
_who_ is it that has died?”
“The baby, Ma’am, the dear baby! She went off like a lamb, without a
struggle! O! dear mistress, do try to bear it!”
“Is my baby--_dead_?” said Margaret in the same dazed voice, turning to
the doctor who had already satisfied himself that the tiny heart and
pulse had ceased to beat.
“No! my dear child, she is not dead--she is living--with God! Try to
think of her as quite happy and free from this world’s ill.”
“O! but I _wanted_ her so--I _wanted_ her,” exclaimed the bereaved
mother, as she clasped the senseless form in her arms, “O! baby! baby!
why did you go, before you had seen your father?”
And then she slid, rather than sank, from the bedside, in a tumbled
heap upon the floor.
“It is better so--it will help her through it,” said Doctor Phillips,
as he directed the nurse to carry the dead child into Elinor Leyton’s
room, and placed Margaret on her own bed. “You will not object, Miss
Leyton, I am sure, and you must not leave Mrs. Pullen to-night!”
“Of course I shall not,” replied Elinor; “I have been afraid for days
past that this would happen, but poor Margaret would not take any
hints.”
She spoke sympathetically, but there were no tears in her eyes, and she
did not caress, nor attempt to console her friend. She did all that was
required of her, but there was no spontaneous suggestion on her part,
with regard either to the mother, or the dead child, and as Doctor
Phillips noted her coolness, he did not wonder so much at Ralph’s being
attracted by the fervour and warmth of Harriet Brandt.
As soon as poor Margaret had revived and had her cry out, he
administered a sleeping draught to her, and leaving her in charge of
Elinor Leyton, he went downstairs again to consult Captain Pullen as to
what would be the best thing for them to do.
Ralph was very much shocked to hear of the baby’s sudden death, and
eager to do all in his power for his brother’s wife. There was no
Protestant cemetery in Heyst, and Doctor Phillips proposed that they
should at once order a little shell, and convey the child’s body either
to Ostende or England, as Margaret might desire, for burial. The sooner
she left the place where she had lost her child, he said, the better,
and his idea was that she would wish the body to be taken to Devonshire
and buried in the quiet country churchyard, where her husband’s father
and mother were laid to sleep. He left Ralph to telegraph to his
brother in India and to anyone the news might concern in England--also
to settle all hotel claims and give notice to the Lamonts that they
would leave on the morrow.
“But supposing Margaret should object,” suggested Ralph.
“She will not object!” replied the Doctor, “she might if we were not
taking the child’s body with us, but as it is, she will be grateful to
be thought, and acted, for. She is a true woman, God bless her! I only
wish He had not seen fit to bring this heavy trial on her head!”
Not a word was exchanged between the two men about Harriet Brandt.
Ralph, remembering the hint the doctor had thrown out respecting her
being the ultimate cause of the baby’s illness, did not like to bring
up her name again--felt rather guilty with respect to it, indeed--and
Doctor Phillips was only too glad to see the young man bestirring
himself to be useful, and losing sight of his own worry in the trouble
of his sister-in-law. Of course he could not have refused, or even
demurred, at accompanying his party to England on so mournful an
errand--and to do him justice, he did not wish it to be otherwise.
Brussels, and its anticipated pleasures, had been driven clean out
of his head by the little tragedy that had occurred in Heyst, and
his attitude towards Margaret when they met again, was so quietly
affectionate and brotherly that he was of infinite comfort to her. She
quite acquiesced in Doctor Phillips’ decision that her child should be
buried with her father’s family, and the mournful group with the little
coffin in their midst, set out without delay for Devonshire.