The clock struck nine as I re-entered the house. A servant accosted me
with a message from Mrs. Carew, requesting me to go to her in the
little room in which Carew was in the habit of taking tea with
her--the apartment he had described as a sanctuary of rest.
Mrs. Carew was alone.
"My husband is asleep," she said, "and asked me to see that he was not
disturbed. He told me that you had gone out to see Emilius, who was to
come here to-morrow morning. Have you seen him?"
"Yes, but he declares he will not wait. He insists upon seeing you
to-night."
"Poor Emilius! It is but a few hours longer. He must have patience
till tomorrow. Deeply as I pity him, I am grateful for the delay, for
it gives me time to make a confession to you. I do not know whether it
should have been made before--but now it is imperative. I have been
praying for strength. My husband prayed with me. In the days of our
courtship, when he and the good priest of Nerac were friends, Mr.
Carew was in the habit of accompanying me and my dear parents to
church; but for many years he has not entered a place of worship. I do
not ask you to betray his confidence, but was he not more composed
when you left him?"
"It seemed to me that he had made up his mind to a certain course--he
did not explain it to me, nor did I ask him to do so--which might be
the means of atoning for the errors of the past. I am not at liberty
to say more; what passed between us I regard as in sacred confidence."
"I am glad he has you to rely on," said Mrs. Carew. "He came to me
voluntarily an hour ago, and the conversation we had has done me good.
He was wonderfully gentle and humble--but indeed, Mr. Carew was never
arrogant--and I gathered the impression that he had in some way
discovered that he was in the habit of walking abroad during the night
and causing me distress of mind. He spoke kindly, too, of poor
Emilius, and said he hoped to be forgiven for any wrong he had done
that unhappy man in the past. The air is very sweet to-night, is it
not?"
"I have been in some anxiety myself," I said haltingly, scarcely
knowing how to reply to the question, which appeared to me a strange
one at that moment, "and have scarcely noticed; but there is a soft
air blowing, and the night is fine."
"You are anxious about Reginald," she said, "and Mildred?"
"Yes," I said, surprised that she should approach the subject.
She pressed my hand. "Mr. Carew, when he was here with me, said the
air was peculiarly sweet, and I gather the impression from him. It is
always so with one we love. I questioned myself whether I should
impart to him what I am about to impart to you, but he appeared to be
so much in need of rest that I decided not to agitate him. I trust he
will forgive me when I make my confession to him to-morrow. To-night
you will counsel, you will advise me?"
"Command me entirely," I said.
"I thank you. I have wished Mildred good-night also, and we shall be
quite undisturbed. She has received a letter from your Reginald, and
is replying to it. A loving task to a young girl in her position." I
winced, and determined that the night should not pass without my
acquainting Mrs. Carew with my views respecting the impossibility of a
marriage between Mildred and Reginald. A knock at the door here caused
Mrs. Carew to call "Come in."
A servant entered with keys, which he handed to his mistress.
"All the doors are securely fastened?" she asked.
"Yes, madam," replied the servant.
"Come to me," she said, "in the morning for the keys."
When we were alone Mrs. Carew said that before she commenced she
wished to see that her husband was sleeping well, and I accompanied
her to his room. He was lying on his right side, breathing calmly and
peacefully. There was a certain intentness in the expression of his
features, as though even in his sleep his mind was bent upon some
fixed resolve, but otherwise I was surprised, after what he had gone
through, that he should be so quiet and composed. I had never before
realised how powerful was the face I was now gazing on; the firm lips,
the large nose, the broad forehead, were indications of intellectual
power. No sign of weakness was apparent, none of indecision or
wavering. He was a man capable of a great career.
"My dear father used to say," said Mrs. Carew, "that Mr. Carew's mind
was the most comprehensive he had ever met with."
She stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, without disturbing
him. We trod gently out of the room.
"He will have a good night," she said. "I must go up to Mildred's
room." The light was shining through the crevices of the door.
"Not asleep, Mildred?" said Mrs. Carew softly.
"No, mamma. I shall be, soon."
"Don't remain up too long, my dear."
"No, mamma."
"Good night, Mildred."
"Good night, dear mamma. Mamma?"
"Yes, child!"
"I have just given Reginald your love."
"That is right, my dear."
"And I have told him not to remain away too long."
"That is right, my dear."
"Good night, dearest mamma."
"Good night, my dearest."
"Alas for Reginald!" I thought, as we descended the stairs. "Alas for
the hopes of that young girl!"
In her own apartment Mrs. Carew informed me that it was by her
husband's wish the lower doors were securely fastened, and the keys
given to her. "In order," she said, "that it might not be in his power
to leave the house in his sleep. He did not say so, but that was his
thought."