A STORY OF THE PAST AND DEPARTURE.
Had a bomb burst in the room it might have caused more alarm, but it
could scarcely have been the cause of more astonishment than was the
Major's sudden announcement.
It was half-an-hour later. The first access of wonder had in some
measure subsided. There had been question and answer on both sides.
The Major told how, in the first place, he had been struck by Hermia's
extraordinary likeness to the miniature in his possession, and, in the
second, by her surname (his son's full name had been Warren Rivers
Strickland); and how, when he found that only that very day she had
been to Broome to seek an interview with Miss Pengarvon, he had at
once come to the conclusion that it was not possible that she could be
anyone other than the granddaughter he had sought for so long a time,
but had hitherto sought in vain.
Then came the Major's turn to be told the story of Hermia's adoption
by John Brancker and his sister, followed by an account of Mr.
Hodgson's visits to Ashdown, which naturally led up to the particulars
of Clement's quest and what had resulted therefrom, the whole ending
with an account of what had passed at the interview between Miss
Pengarvon and Hermia only a few hours before.
But something more remained to be told, to wit, the story of the
ill-fated young couple, Warren Strickland and Isabel Pengarvon. This
the Major now proceeded to narrate as far as the facts connected
therewith were known to him. The following summary of what he had to
tell is all that need be given here:
At the time young Warren Strickland went down to Stavering for the
purpose of trout-fishing, he had just passed his final army
examination and was awaiting his commission and appointment. While at
Stavering he met Isabel Pengarvon, fell in love with her, and
persuaded her to agree to a secret marriage. He was very poor, Isabel
had not a farthing of her own, and on both sides the marriage was an
act of the maddest imprudence. Young Strickland kept the affair a
profound secret from all his friends and connections, and when he
received his commission and was ordered to Aldershot, he established
Isabel in lodgings in London, and ran up to see her there as often as
he could get away. In those lodgings Hermia was born.
One day, when Isabel had been about a year married, a strange woman
called upon her and announced herself as Warren Strickland's first
wife, producing in proof of her claim what purported to be a
certificate of marriage at a registrar's office, which anyone less
ignorant of such matters than Isabel would at once have seen to be an
impudent forgery. That Warren, when scarcely more than a boy--indeed,
he was hardly more than that when he married--had been entangled in
the toils of the woman, who was some half-dozen years his senior, and
in a moment of infatuation had promised her marriage, there was little
reason to doubt. Finding herself jilted, and Warren married to
another, she had determined on the scheme of revenge described above.
Unfortunately Isabel chose to believe the woman's tale, so plausibly
was it told, and backed up by such apparent proofs; and without
waiting to question Warren, she at once quitted her lodgings, taking
her child with her, and leaving behind her a note in which she told
her husband that she had left him for ever and the reason why, and
begging of him, if he had any love for her still left, to make no
attempt to find her.
It was not till three or four days after Isabel had gone that the blow
fell. Warren had run up to town to bid his wife a hurried farewell.
His regiment was ordered to India, where a frontier war had just
broken out, and he was due to embark at Portsmouth forty-eight hours
later. For a few hours he was like a man bereft of reason; then the
necessity for immediate action of some kind forced him, in his own
despite, to face the facts of the case with some degree of outward
calmness. At length he decided to adopt the only course which seemed
to hold out any prospect of success. To have himself set about any
search for his wife with only a few hours at his command would have
been the sheerest folly. Having contrived, by means best known to
himself, to raise a hundred pounds, he went to a Private Inquiry Agent
and placed the whole of the facts in his hands, giving the man an
address in India to write to. Little as it seemed at the time, it was
all he could do, and a few hours later he went aboard ship.
Whether the agent used his best endeavors to trace Isabel and failed
in the attempt, or whether he quietly pocketed his fee and satisfied
his conscience by making a few perfunctory but futile inquiries was a
point as to which nothing was ever known, nor ever would be now, the
man himself having died a few months later. In any case no
communication from him ever reached Warren Strickland. As it fell out,
however, the young soldier came by his death within a year after
landing, having been mortally wounded in a skirmish with some of the
hill tribes. He lived long enough to enable him to dictate a letter to
his father--who was himself in India at the time, but a thousand miles
away from where his son lay dying--in which he told him all about his
marriage and the flight of Isabel; making it his last request that on
his father's return to England, he should use every endeavor to find
his daughter-in-law and her child, and prove to Isabel how terribly
mistaken she had been in acting as she had. With his letter the dying
man enclosed his marriage certificate. For reasons which need not be
detailed, Major Strickland had been precluded from doing anything
towards the fulfilment of his son's last wishes till a month or two
before his first call on Miss Pengarvon.
"There is one question," said the Major, in conclusion, addressing
himself directly to Hermia, "which I have refrained from asking till
after I had told you all there is to tell, as far as I am concerned.
It is about your mother, my dear. Is she still living? Is she----?"
Something in the girl's face bade him pause.
"Not till yesterday did I know who my mother was, or anything about
her," replied Hermia, in broken accents. "But she is dead--so I am now
told. She died when I was only a few weeks old."
"Is that indeed so?" said the Major, with a sigh. "Then the hope of
finding her, and of proving to her the utter falsity of the charge
made by that vile woman against my poor boy must now be abandoned for
ever. But had it not been for my endeavors to trace her, I should not
have found you. For that, my dear child, I can never be sufficiently
thankful. I have no one but you in the world, and already I feel that
you are very dear to me."
They were sitting on the sofa side by side. The Major moved a little
nearer to the girl, and taking her head gently between his hands, he
drew it towards him and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Then
Hermia's arms were wound round his neck, and with her cheek resting
against his shoulder, her overcharged heart found its natural relief
in tears. Aunt Charlotte rose, and beckoning to Clem, they left
grandfather and granddaughter together.
The ladies had retired for the night, and the Major and Clem were
sitting over a final weed.
"It seems to me," said the former, after they had smoked awhile in
silence, "now my granddaughter and I have been brought together in a
way so strange and unexpected, that we ought to make Miss Pengarvon
acquainted with what has come to pass, and give her one last
opportunity of acknowledging her niece. If, after that, she still
persists in the course she has hitherto followed, I do not think that
either Hermia or I will care to trouble her in time to come. But what
is your opinion, Dr. Hazeldine?"
It may here be remarked that the relation in which Clement and Hermia
stood towards each other had been duly explained to Major Strickland
in an "aside" by Aunt Charlotte, although he had probably guessed the
truth by the time he had been ten minutes in their company; whereupon
he had at once shaken hands heartily with Clem, and had declared
laughingly, that he was sincerely glad to hear that the task of
finding a husband for his granddaughter had been taken off his hands,
and that the arrangement met with his entire approbation.
Doctor Hazeldine was quite of the Major's opinion, that a final appeal
ought to be made to Miss Pengarvon. "It has seemed to me, when
considering the matter," he went on to observe, "that possibly there
may have been a doubt lurking in Miss Pengarvon's mind all these
years, as to whether her sister was really married, in which case one
can readily understand her determination to keep everything connected
with the affair a profound secret. She comes of a stock which have
always been known round about as 'the Proud Pengarvons,' and of which
the family motto is, 'Pride I Cherish.' This seems to me a factor in
the affair which ought not to be overlooked. May I ask whether you
happen to have your son's marriage certificate by you?"
"It is in my portmanteau upstairs. I brought it with me, thinking that
I might possibly be called upon to produce it."
"Then, if you will allow me to say so, why not take it with you to
Broome to-morrow? In your place, I should insist on seeing Miss
Pengarvon, and on laying the certificate before her as evidence which
not even she can doubt or cavil at. If, after that, she should still
persist in maintaining her present attitude, I agree with you in
thinking that nothing more can be done."
"What you urge is certainly worthy of a trial," said the Major, "and
to-morrow shall see it put to the test."
Barney Dale had happened to mention that since her late attack Miss
Pengarvon seldom rose before noon, so it was not till between four and
five o'clock the following afternoon that Major Strickland, his
granddaughter and Clement found themselves at Broome. Miss Brancker,
feeling that she might perhaps be in the way, had stayed behind, and
Clement would have followed her example had not the Major insisted on
his accompanying them.
Earlier in the day, Clem had sent Barney a note by messenger, so that
he was prepared for their arrival. This time they drove up to the
front entrance, and, in response to the Major's summons, Barney flung
open the massive oaken door, which since Sir Jasper's death had so
rarely turned on its hinges to admit anyone.
"This young lady is my granddaughter and Miss Pengarvon's niece," said
the Major. "We are about to leave Stavering in the course of a few
hours, but are desirous of seeing Miss Pengarvon before doing so. Be
good enough, please, to lead the way to her room, and announce our
arrival to her."
At any other time Barney would have refused admittance to the Major
until he had obtained his mistress's permission, but Clem in his note
had told him the object of their visit--it was "all for Hermia's
sake," he had written--so now he simply bowed and held wide the door
for them to enter. Then having shut the door, he motioned to them to
follow him, all without a word, and led the way to the Green Parlor.
The Major and Hermia obeyed his mute directions, but Clement stayed
behind in the entrance hall.
Barney--the Major and Hermia a little way behind him--knocked with his
knuckles on the door of the Green Parlor, and bent his ear for the
familiar summons to enter. But none came. Presently he knocked again,
louder than before. Still no response. The only sound that broke the
strained silence was the fluting of a blackbird somewhere outside the
Hall. Then, after a scared look at the others, Barney opened the door
and made one step forward into the room. Next moment a cry that was
half a wail broke from the old man's lips; the Major, followed by
Hermia, hurried into the room.
There, in her high-backed chair, with its empty fellow chair facing
her on the opposite side of the table, with her glazed eyes staring
straight before her, and a look of awe unutterable on her ashen-grey
face, sat Miss Pengarvon, stone dead. On the table in front of her
were scattered a number of yellow, time faded letters, which she had
apparently been engaged in looking over at the moment the Great
Captain touched her suddenly on the shoulder, and beckoned her to
follow him.