My father's florid face looked almost as rigid and white as my mother's
had done. He stood in the doorway, with a lamp in his hand (for it had
grown quite dark while my mother and I were talking), and the light
shone full upon his changed face. His hand shook violently, so I took
the lamp from him and set it down on the table.
"Go down to Mrs. Murray," he said, turning savagely upon my mother. "How
could you be so rude as to leave her? She talks of going away. Let her
go as soon as she likes. I shall stay here with Martin."
"I did not know I had been away so long," she answered, meekly, and
looking deprecatingly from the one to the other of us.--"You will not
quarrel with your father, Martin, if I leave you, will you?" This she
whispered in my ear, in a beseeching tone.
"Not if I can help it, mother," I replied, also in a whisper.
"Now, confound it!" cried Dr. Dobrée, after she had gone, slowly and
reluctantly, and looking back at the door to me--"now just tell me
shortly all about this nonsense of yours. I thought some quarrel was up,
when Julia did not come home to dinner. Out with it, Martin."
"As I said before, there is not much to tell," I answered. "I was
compelled in honor to tell Julia I loved another woman more than
herself; and I presume, though I am not sure, she will decline to become
my wife."
"In love with another woman!" repeated my father, with a long whistle,
partly of sympathy, and partly of perplexity. "Who is it, my son?"
"That is of little moment," I said, having no desire whatever to confide
the story to him. "The main point is that it's true, and I told Julia
so, this afternoon."
"Good gracious, Martin!" he cried, "what accursed folly! What need was
there to tell her of any little peccadillo, if you could conceal it? Why
did you not come to me for advice? Julia is a prude, like your mother.
It will not be easy for her to overlook this."
"There is nothing to overlook," I said. "As soon as I knew my own mind,
I told her honestly about it."
At that moment it did not occur to me that my honesty was due to
Johanna's insistent advice. I believed just then that I had acted from
the impulse of my own sense of honor, and the belief gave my words and
tone more spirit than they would have had otherwise. My father's face
grew paler and graver as he listened; he looked older, by ten years,
than he had done an hour ago in the dining-room.
"I don't understand it," he muttered; "do you mean that this is a
serious thing? Are you in love with some girl of our own class? Not a
mere passing fancy, that no one would think seriously of for an instant?
Just a trifling _faux pas_, that it is no use telling women about, eh? I
could make allowance for that, Martin, and get Julia to do the same.
Come, it cannot be any thing more."
I did not reply to him. Here we had come, he and I, to the very barrier
that had been growing up between us ever since I had first discovered my
mother's secret and wasting grief. He was on one side of it and I on the
other--a wall of separation which neither of us could leap over.
"Why don't you speak, Martin?" he asked, testily.
"Because I hate the subject," I answered. "When I told Julia I loved
another woman, I meant that some one else occupied that place in my
affection which belonged rightfully to my wife; and so Julia understood
it."
"Then," he cried with a gesture of despair, "I am a ruined man!"
His consternation and dismay were so real that they startled me; yet,
knowing what a consummate actor he was, I restrained both my fear and
my sympathy, and waited for him to enlighten me further. He sat with his
head bowed, and his hands hanging down, in an attitude of profound
despondency, so different from his usual jaunty air, that every moment
increased my anxiety.
"What can it have to do with you?" I asked, after a long pause.
"I am a ruined and disgraced man." he reiterated, without looking up;
"if you have broken off your marriage with Julia, I shall never raise my
head again."
"But why?" I asked, uneasily.
"Come down into my consulting-room," he said, after another pause of
deliberation. I went on before him, carrying the lamp, and, turning
round once or twice, saw his face look gray, and the expression of it
vacant and troubled. His consulting-room was a luxurious room, elegantly
furnished; and with several pictures on the walls, including a painted
photograph of himself, taken recently by the first photographer in
Guernsey. There were book-cases containing a number of the best medical
works; behind which lay, out of sight, a numerous selection of French
novels, more thumbed than the ponderous volumes in front. He sank down
into an easy-chair, shivering as if we were in the depth of winter.
"Martin, I am a ruined man!" he said, for the third time.
"But how?" I asked again, impatiently; for my fears were growing strong.
Certainly he was not acting a part this time.
"I dare not tell you," he cried, leaning his head upon his desk, and
sobbing. How white his hair was! and how aged he looked! I recollected
how he used to play with me when I was a boy, and carry me before him on
horseback, as long back as I could remember. My heart softened and
warmed to him as it had not done for years.
"Father!" I said, "if you can trust any one, you can trust me. If you
are ruined and disgraced I shall be the same, as your son."
"That's true," he answered, "that's true! It will bring disgrace on you
and your mother. We shall be forced to leave Guernsey, where she has
lived all her life; and it will be the death of her. Martin, you must
save us all by making it up with Julia."
"But why?" I demanded, once more. "I must know what you mean."
"Mean?" he said, turning upon me angrily, "you blockhead! I mean that
unless you marry Julia I shall have to give an account of her property;
and I could not make all square, not if I sold every stick and stone I
possess."
I sat silent for a time, trying to take in this piece of information. He
had been Julia's guardian ever since she was left an orphan, ten years
old; but I had never known that there had not been a formal and legal
settlement of her affairs when she was of age. Our family name had no
blot upon it; it was one of the most honored names in the island. But if
this came to light, then the disgrace would be dark indeed.
"Can you tell me all about it?" I asked.
My father, after making his confession, settled himself in his chair
comfortably; appearing to feel that he had begun to make reparation for
the wrong. His temperament was more buoyant than mine. Selfish natures
are often buoyant.
"It would take a long time," he said, "and it would be a deuse of a
nuisance. You make it up with Julia, and marry her, as you're bound to
do. Of course, you will manage all her money when you are her husband,
as you will be. Now you know all."
"But I don't know all," I replied; "and I insist upon doing so, before I
make up my mind what to do."
I believe he expected this opposition from me, for otherwise all he had
said could have been said in my room. But after feebly giving battle on
various points, and staving off sundry inquiries, he opened a drawer in
one of his cabinets, and produced a number of deeds, scrip, etc.,
belonging to Julia.
For two hours I was busy with his accounts. Once or twice he tried to
slink out of the room; but that I would not suffer. At length the
ornamental clock on his chimney-piece struck eleven, and he made
another effort to beat a retreat.
"Do not go away till every thing is clear," I said; "is this all?"
"All?" he repeated; "isn't it enough?"
"Between three and four thousand pounds deficient!" I answered; "it is
quite enough."
"Enough to make me a felon," he said, "if Julia chooses to prosecute
me."
"I think it is highly probable," I replied; "though I know nothing of
the law."
"Then you see clearly, Martin, there is no alternative, but for you to
marry her, and keep our secret. I have reckoned upon this for years, and
your mother and I have been of one mind in bringing it about. If you
marry Julia, her affairs go direct from my hands to yours, and we are
all safe. If you break with her she will leave us, and demand an account
of my guardianship; and your name and mine will be branded in our own
island."
"That is very clear," I said, sullenly.
"Your mother would not survive it!" he continued, with a solemn accent.
"Oh! I have been threatened with that already," I exclaimed, very
bitterly. "Pray does my mother know of this disgraceful business?"
"Heaven forbid!" he cried. "Your mother is a good woman, Martin; as
simple as a dove. You ought to think of her before you consign us all to
shame. I can quit Guernsey. I am an old man, and it signifies very
little where I lie down to die. I have not been as good a husband as I
might have been; but I could not face her after she knows this. Poor
Mary! My poor, poor love! I believe she cares enough for me still to
break her heart over it."
"Then I am to be your scape-goat," I said.
"You are my son," he answered; "and religion itself teaches us that the
sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I leave the matter in
your hands. But only answer one question: Could you show your face among
your own friends if this were known?"
I knew very well I could not. My father a fraudulent steward of Julia's
property! Then farewell forever to all that had made my life happy! We
were a proud family--proud of our rank, and of our pure blood; above
all, of our honor, which had never been tarnished by a breath. I could
not yet bear to believe that my father was a rogue. He himself was not
so lost to shame that he could meet my eye. I saw there was no escape
from it--I must marry Julia.
"Well," I said, at last, "as you say, the matter is in my hands now; and
I must make the best of it. Good-night, sir."
Without a light I went up to my own room, where the moon that had shone
upon me in my last night's ride, was gleaming brightly through the
window. I intended to reflect and deliberate, but I was worn out. I
flung myself down on the bed, but could not have remained awake for a
single moment. I fell into a deep sleep which lasted till morning.