"DEAR SIR,--
"Until half an hour ago I was ignorant that you were the person who
had undertaken to reside at River Hall. If you would add another
obligation to that already conferred upon me, _leave that terrible
house at once_. What I have seen in it, you know; what may happen to
you, if you persist in remaining there, I tremble to think. For the
sake of your widowed mother and only sister, you ought not to expose
yourself to a risk which is _worse than useless_. I never wish to
hear of River Hall being let again. Immediately I come of age, I
shall sell the place; and if anything could give me happiness in
this world, it would be to hear the house was razed to the ground.
Pray! pray! listen to a warning, which, believe me, is not idly
given, and leave a place which has already been the cause of so much
misery to yours, gratefully and sincerely,
"HELENA ELMSDALE."
It is no part of this story to tell the rapture with which I gazed upon
the writing of my "lady-love." Once I had heard Miss Blake remark, when
Mr. Craven was remonstrating with her on her hieroglyphics, that "Halana
wrote an 'unmaning hand,' like all the rest of the English," and, to
tell the truth, there was nothing particularly original or
characteristic about Miss Elmsdale's calligraphy.
But what did that signify to me? If she had strung pearls together, I
should not have valued them one-half so much as I did the dear words
which revealed her interest in me.
Over and over I read the note, at first rapturously, afterwards with a
second feeling mingling with my joy. How did she know it was I who had
taken up my residence at River Hall? Not a soul I knew in London,
besides Mr. Craven, was aware of the fact, and he had promised
faithfully to keep my secret.
Where, then, had Miss Elmsdale obtained her information? from whom
had she learned that I was bent on solving the mystery of the
"Uninhabited House"?
I puzzled myself over these questions till my brain grew uneasy with
vain conjectures.
Let me imagine what I would--let me force my thoughts into what grooves
I might--the moment the mental pressure was removed, my suspicions
fluttered back to the man whose face seemed not unfamiliar.
"I am confident he wants to keep that house vacant," I decided. "Once
let me discover who he is, and the mystery of the 'Uninhabited House'
shall not long remain a mystery."
But then the trouble chanced to be how to find out who he was. I could
not watch and be watched at the same time, and I did not wish to take
anyone into my confidence, least of all a professional detective.
So far fortune had stood my friend; I had learnt something suspected by
no one else, and I made up my mind to trust to the chapter of accidents
for further information on the subject of my unknown friend.
When Mr. Craven and I were seated at our respective tables, I
said to him:
"Could you make any excuse to send me to Miss Blake's to-day, sir?"
Mr. Craven looked up in utter amazement. "To Miss Blake's!" he repeated.
"Why do you want to go there?"
"I want to see Miss Elmsdale," I answered, quietly enough, though I felt
the colour rising in my face as I spoke.
"You had better put all that nonsense on one side, Patterson," he
remarked. "What you have to do is to make your way in the world, and you
will not do that so long as your head is running upon pretty girls.
Helena Elmsdale is a good girl; but she would no more be a suitable wife
for you, than you would be a suitable husband for her. Stick to law, my
lad, for the present, and leave love for those who have nothing more
important to think of."
"I did not want to see Miss Elmsdale for the purpose you imply," I said,
smiling at the vehemence of Mr. Craven's advice. "I only wish to ask her
one question."
"What is the question?"
"From whom she learned that I was in residence at River Hall," I
answered, after a moment's hesitation.
"What makes you think she is aware of that fact?" he inquired.
"I received a note from her last night, entreating me to leave the
place, and intimating that some vague peril menaced me if I persisted in
remaining there."
"Poor child! poor Helena!" said Mr. Craven, thoughtfully; then spreading
a sheet of note-paper on his blotting-pad, and drawing his cheque-book
towards him, he proceeded:
"Now remember, Patterson, I trust to your honour implicitly. You must
not make love to that girl; I think a man can scarcely act more
dishonourably towards a woman, than to induce her to enter into what
must be, under the best circumstances, a very long engagement."
"You may trust me, sir," I answered, earnestly. "Not," I added, "that I
think it would be a very easy matter to make love to anyone with Miss
Blake sitting by."
Mr. Craven laughed; he could not help doing so at the idea I had
suggested. Then he said, "I had a letter from Miss Blake this morning
asking me for money."
"And you are going to let her have some of that hundred pounds you
intended yesterday to place against her indebtedness to you," I
suggested.
"That is so," he replied. "Of course, when Miss Helena comes of age, we
must turn over a new leaf--we really must."
To this I made no reply. It would be a most extraordinary leaf, I
considered, in which Miss Blake did not appear as debtor to my
employer but it scarcely fell within my province to influence Mr.
Craven's actions.
"You had better ask Miss Blake to acknowledge receipt of this," said my
principal, holding up a cheque for ten pounds as he spoke. "I am afraid
I have not kept the account as I ought to have done."
Which was undeniably true, seeing we had never taken a receipt from
her at all, and that loans had been debited to his private account
instead of to that of Miss Blake. But true as it was, I only answered
that I would get her acknowledgment; and taking my hat, I walked off
to Hunter Street.
Arrived there, I found, to my unspeakable joy, that Miss Blake was out,
and Miss Elmsdale at home.
When I entered the shabby sitting-room where her beauty was so
grievously lodged, she rose and greeted me with kindly words, and sweet
smiles, and vivid blushes.
"You have come to tell me you are not going ever again to that dreadful
house," she said, after the first greeting and inquiries for Miss Blake
were over. "You cannot tell the horror with which the mere mention of
River Hall now fills me."
"I hope it will never be mentioned to you again till I have solved the
mystery attached to it," I answered.
"Then you will not do what I ask," she cried, almost despairingly.
"I cannot," was my reply. "Miss Elmsdale, you would not have a soldier
turn back from the battle. I have undertaken to find out the secret
attached to your old home, and, please God, I shall succeed in my
endeavours."
"But you are exposing yourself to danger, to--"
"I must take my chance of that. I cannot, if I would, turn back now, and
I would not if I could. But I have come to you for information. How did
you know it was I who had gone to River Hall?"
The colour flamed up in her face as I put the question.
"I--I was told so," she stammered out.
"May I ask by whom?"
"No, Mr. Patterson, you may not," she replied. "A--a friend--a kind
friend, informed me of the fact, and spoke of the perils to which you
were exposing yourself--living there all alone--all alone," she
repeated. "I would not pass a night in the house again if the whole
parish were there to keep me company, and what must it be to stay in
that terrible, terrible place alone! You are here, perhaps, because you
do not believe--because you have not seen."
"I do believe," I interrupted, "because I have seen; and yet I mean to
go through with the matter to the end. Have you a likeness of your
father in your possession, Miss Elmsdale?" I asked.
"I have a miniature copied from his portrait, which was of course
too large to carry from place to place," she answered. "Why do you
wish to know?"
"If you let me see it, I will reply to your question," I said.
Round her dear throat she wore a thin gold chain. Unfastening this, she
handed to me the necklet, to which was attached a locket enamelled in
black. It is no exaggeration to say, as I took this piece of personal
property, my hand trembled so much that I could not open the case.
True love is always bashful, and I loved the girl, whose slender
neck the chain had caressed, so madly and senselessly, if you will,
that I felt as if the trinket were a living thing, a part and parcel
of herself.
"Let me unfasten it," she said, unconscious that aught save awkwardness
affected my manipulation of the spring. And she took the locket and
handed it back to me open, wet with tears--her tears.
Judge how hard it was for me then to keep my promise to Mr. Craven and
myself--how hard it was to refrain from telling her all my reasons for
having ever undertaken to fight the dragon installed at River Hall.
I thank God I did refrain. Had I spoken then, had I presumed upon her
sorrow and her simplicity, I should have lost something which
constitutes the sweetest memory of my life.
But that is in the future of this story, and meantime I was looking at
the face of her father.
I looked at it long and earnestly; then I closed the locket, softly
pressing down the spring as I did so, and gave back miniature and chain
into her hand.
"Well, Mr. Patterson?" she said, inquiringly.
"Can you bear what I have to tell?" I asked.
"I can, whatever it may be," she answered.
"I have seen that face at River Hall."
She threw up her arms with a gesture of despair.
"And," I went on, "I may be wrong, but I think I am destined to solve
the mystery of its appearance."
She covered her eyes, and there was silence between us for a minute,
when I said:
"Can you give me the name of the person who told you I was at
River Hall?"
"I cannot," she repeated. "I promised not to mention it."
"He said I was in danger."
"Yes, living there all alone."
"And he wished you to warn me."
"No; he asked my aunt to do so, and she refused; and so I--I thought I
would write to you without mentioning the matter to her."
"You have done me an incalculable service," I remarked, "and in return I
will tell you something."
"What is that?" she asked.
"From to-night I shall not be alone in the house."
"Oh! how thankful I am!" she exclaimed; then instantly added, "Here
is my aunt."