DR. SPENLOVE UNDERTAKES A DELICATE MISSION.
Mr. Gordon had spoken throughout in a cold, passionless tone, and with
no accent of emotion in his voice. If anything could have been
destructive of the idea that he loved the woman he wished to marry, it
was his measured delivery of the story he had related; and yet there
could be no question that there was some nobility in the nature of the
sacrifice he was prepared to make for her sake. The contrast between
the man and the woman struck Dr. Spenlove very forcibly. The man was
hard and cold, the woman was sensitive and sympathetic. Had their
circumstances been equal, and had Dr. Spenlove been an interested
adviser, he would have had no hesitation in saying to her: "Do not
marry this man: there is no point of union between you; you can never
kindle in his heart the fire which burns within your own; wedded to
him, a dull routine of years will be your portion." But he felt that
he dared not encourage himself to pursue this line of argument.
Although the most pregnant part of Mr. Gordon's errand had yet to be
disclosed, it seemed to him that he would very likely presently be the
arbiter of her destiny. "You will be able," Mr. Gordon had said, "to
make clear to her the effect of her consent or refusal upon her
destiny and the destiny of her child." Whatever the conditions, it
would be his duty to urge her to accept the offer that would be made
to her; otherwise, he might be condemning her to a course of life he
shuddered to contemplate. The responsibility would be too solemn for
mere sentimental consideration. These were the thoughts that flashed
through his mind in the momentary pause before Mr. Gordon spoke again.
"I believe," his visitor then said, "that I am in possession of the
facts relating to Mrs. Turner"--he reverted to the name by which she
was generally known--"but you will corroborate them perhaps. She is in
want."
"She is in the lowest depths of poverty."
"Unless she pays the arrears of rent she will be turned into the
streets to-morrow."
"That is the landlord's determination."
"She would have been turned out to-day but for your intervention."
"You are well informed, I see," observed Dr. Spenlove, rather nettled.
"I have conversed with the landlord and with others concerning her.
She lives among the poor, who have troubles enough of their own to
grapple with, and are unable, even if they were inclined, to render
her the assistance of which she stands in need. She seems to have kept
herself aloof from them, for which I commend her. Now, Dr. Spenlove, I
will have no spectre of shame and degradation to haunt her life and
mine. Her past must be buried, and the grave must never be opened. To
that I am resolved, and no power on earth can turn me from it."
"But her child?" faltered Dr. Spenlove.
"She will have no child. She must part with her, and the parting must
be final and irrevocable. The steps I shall take to this end shall be
so effectual that if by chance in the future they should happen to
meet there shall be no possibility of recognition. I propose to have
the child placed with a family who will adopt her as a child of their
own--there will be little difficulty in finding such a family--to the
head of which a sum of one hundred pounds will be paid yearly for
maintenance. I name no limit as to time; so long as the child lives,
so long will the payment be made through my lawyers. Should the child
die before she reaches the age of twenty-one, the sum of five hundred
pounds will be paid to the people who undertake the charge. They will
know nothing of me or of the mother; our names will not be divulged to
them, and they will not be able to trace us. Should they evince a
disposition to be troublesome in this respect, the child will be taken
from them by my lawyers, and another home provided for her. A hundred
pounds a year is a liberal sum, and there will not be the least
difficulty in carrying out the proposed arrangement. In proof that I
desire the child to have every chance of leading a happy life, I will
engage to give her a marriage portion of five hundred pounds. Judge
for yourself whether a woman in Mrs. Turner's circumstances would be
acting wisely in rejecting my proposition."
"You have spoken in a most generous spirit," said Dr. Spenlove slowly,
"so far as money goes; but you seem not to have taken into
consideration a mother's feelings."
"I have not taken them into consideration: they are not part of my
plan. I have looked at the matter only from two points of view--its
worldly aspect, and my desire to carry out my personal wishes. I
decline to regard it or to argue upon it from the point of view of a
mother's feelings. I ask you to judge of it as a man of the world."
"Of which," said Dr. Spenlove, "as I have hinted to you, I am a poor
example. Do you expect me to provide for the babe such a home as that
you have described?"
"Not at all. It is my business to carry out my plan if she accepts the
conditions."
"What, then, do you wish me to do?"
"To lay my proposition before her as nearly as possible in my words,
to impress upon her that it is her duty to agree to it, for her own
sake and for the sake of the child."
"Why not do so yourself?"
"I have not seen her; I will not see her while she holds in her arms
her burden of shame. She shall come to me free and unencumbered, or
she shall not come at all. I could not speak to her as I have spoken
to you; I should not be able to command myself. She would plead to me,
and I should answer her in bitterness and anger. Such a scene would
set me so strongly against her that I should immediately relinquish my
purpose. You can reason with her; you can show her the path in which
her duty clearly lies. I do not deny that she is called upon to make a
sacrifice; but it is a sacrifice which will lead to good, it is a
sacrifice which every right-minded man would urge her to make.
Indifferent man of the world as you proclaim yourself to be, you
cannot be blind to the almost sure fate in store for her in the
circumstances in which she is placed. Your experiences must have made
you acquainted with the stories of women who have fallen as she has
fallen, and you will know how many of them were raised from the
depths, and how many of them fell into deeper shame. Dr. Spenlove, I
have entirely finished what I came here to say."
"Before I undertake to do what you require of me," said Dr. Spenlove,
who by this time understood the man he had to deal with, "I must ask
you a question or two."
"If they relate to the present business," responded Mr. Gordon, "I
will answer them."
"Failing me, will you employ some other person to act as your envoy to
Mrs. Turner?"
"I shall employ no other, for the reason that there is no other whose
counsel would be likely to influence her. And for another reason--I
have disclosed to you what I will disclose to no other person."
"Would you leave her as she is?"
"I would leave her as she is. Early in the morning I should take my
departure, and she would have to face the future unaided by me."
"If she will not listen to me, if she will not make the sacrifice, you
will surely give her out of your abundance some little assistance to
help her along?"
"Out of my abundance," replied Mr. Gordon, sternly, "I will give her
nothing--not the smallest coin. Make your mind easy upon one point,
Dr. Spenlove. So far as a practical man like myself is likely to go, I
will do what I can to make her happy if she affords me the
opportunity. She will live in a respectable atmosphere, she will be
surrounded by respectable people, she will have all the comforts that
money can purchase, and I shall never utter to her a word of reproach.
Her past will be as dead to me as if it had never been."
Dr. Spenlove rose. "It is your desire that I shall go to her
to-night?"
"It is. The matter must be settled without delay."
"If she asks for time to reflect----"
"I must have an answer to-night, yea or nay."
There was no more to be said. The man who had been wronged and
deceived, and who had made an offer so strange, and generous, and
cruel, was fixed and implacable.
"I may be absent some time," said Dr. Spenlove. "Where shall I see you
upon my return?"
"Here, if you will allow me to stay."
"You are welcome. My landlady will make you a bed on the sofa."
"Thank you; I need no bed. I can employ myself while you are away."
Dr. Spenlove stepped to the door, and turned on the threshold.
"One other question, Mr. Gordon. If I succeed, when will you require
her to give up her child?"
"To-morrow evening. I will have a carriage ready at the door. On the
following day Mrs. Turner and I will leave Portsmouth, and there is no
probability, after that, that you and I will ever meet again."
Dr. Spenlove nodded, and left the house.