THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PAST.
Aaron observed him anxiously. The disclosure that had already been
made had so agitated him that he was apprehensive of further trouble.
"Ah! here it is," said the lawyer, opening the letter for which he had
been looking; "I was afraid I had left it behind me. Excuse me a
moment; I wish to refresh my memory."
He ran his eye over the letter, and nodded as he went through its
points of importance.
"Does it concern the unhappy affair we have discussed?" inquired
Aaron, unable to restrain his impatience.
"No," replied the lawyer; "I take it that is settled, and I trust, for
the sake of both the families, that it will not be re-opened."
"I trust not."
"This is quite a different matter, and I hardly know how to excuse
myself for troubling you with it. It is a sudden thought, for I came
here with no such intention. You must thank your own reputation for
it, Mr. Cohen; it is well known that you have never neglected an
opportunity to do an act of kindness, and though what I am about to
speak of has come to me in the way of business, the story contains
elements so romantic and peculiar that it has strangely attracted me.
The reference in the letter which induces me to think that you may be
able to help me is that you are a gentleman of influence in your
community, and have a wide acquaintance with your co-religionists.
Perhaps I had better read the words. My correspondent says--'I know
that there are peculiar difficulties in the search I intend to make
upon my return home, but before my arrival you may be able to discover
something which will be of assistance to me. Probably if you consult
some kind-hearted and influential member of the Jewish race you may,
through him, obtain a clue; or, failing this, you might employ a
Jewish agent to make inquiries.' It is a lady who writes to me, and
her letter comes from Australia. May I continue? Thank you. Let me
tell you the story; it will interest you, and I will be as brief as
possible. The letter is too long to read throughout." He handed it to
Aaron. "It occupies, you see, fourteen closely written pages, and it
is somewhat in the nature of a confession. If you wish, I will have a
copy of it made, and will send it on to you to-morrow."
Aaron, turning over the pages, came to the superscription:
"I remain,
"Yours truly,
"Mary Gordon."
Truly this was a day of startling surprises to him. He recollected the
name as that of the gentleman for whom, twenty years ago, Mr. Moss had
undertaken the commission which had lifted him from beggary by placing
in his hands a large sum of money to which in strict justice he was
not entitled, but which, from fear that the deception he had practised
might otherwise be discovered, he was compelled to accept. He had, as
an atonement, expended in secret charities a hundred times the sum;
but this did not absolve him from the responsibility. The spirit of
the dead past rose before him, and he was overwhelmed with the dread
possibilities it brought with it.
"I fear," said the lawyer, "that I have been inconsiderate in
introducing the matter at the present moment. I will postpone it to a
future occasion."
"Pray continue," said Aaron, whose burning desire now was to know the
worst. "I have had an exciting day, but I will pay due attention to
what you wish to impart to me."
"I appreciate your kindness. If you cannot assist me, you may
recommend me to an agent whom I will employ. I noticed that you
referred in the letter to the name of my correspondent, Mrs. Gordon;
the inquiry is of a delicate nature, and it may be her wish that her
name is not too freely mentioned--at all events, for the present. Her
story is not an uncommon one, but it takes an extraordinary and
unusual turn. She is now, according to her own account, a lady of
considerable means; her husband has lately died, and she has come into
a fortune. Some twenty odd years ago she was a young woman, and had
two lovers, one of whom wooed her with dishonourable intentions, and
by him she was betrayed. This occurred during the absence in Australia
of the gentleman who had proposed to her, and whom she had accepted.
He was a resident in Australia, and it was his intention to make his
home there. While he was on his way to England, with the intention of
making her his wife and returning with her to the colony, she
discovered that she was about to become a mother. In despair she fled
from London, where he expected to find her, and sought to hide her
shame among strangers. The place she selected was Portsmouth, and
there she went through a series of harrowing trials, and was reduced
to extreme poverty. In her letter to me she makes no effort to
disguise the misery into which she was plunged, and she is frank and
outspoken in order that I may properly understand how it was that she
was forced to abandon the child that was born in Portsmouth under most
distressing circumstances. For it appears that when the suitor who
wooed her honourably arrived in London and learned the story of her
betrayal, he was still desirous to make her his wife. He traced her to
Portsmouth, and found her there with her babe, who was then but a few
days old. This would have induced most men to forego their honourable
intentions; but Mr. Gordon, whose name she now bears, was an exception
to the rule, and, through a gentleman who acted as a go-between, he
made a singular proposition to her. It was to the effect that she
should consent to give up her child entirely, and during his lifetime
to make no effort to recover it; he undertook to find a respectable
and comfortable home for the babe, and to make a liberal provision for
it. This is the bare outline of his proposition, and I need not go
further into it. So desperate was her position that she and her child
at the time were literally starving; she had not a friend but Mr.
Gordon, who was stern in his resolve not to befriend her unless she
accepted the conditions he dictated; the gentleman who acted as a
go-between had behaved very kindly to her, but could not assist her
further. In these circumstances she made the sacrifice, and parted
with her child, who from that day to this she has never seen. Mr.
Gordon honourably fulfilled the terms of the agreement; a home was
found for the child, and he married the lady, and took her to
Australia, where she has resided for the last twenty years. It was
part of the agreement that she should not be informed of the name of
the people who adopted the child, and should not, directly or
indirectly, make the least endeavour to obtain any information
concerning it while her husband was alive. If he died before her she
was free to act as she pleased in the matter. This has occurred, and
the widow, who has had no children by her marriage, is bent upon
recovering her child, who, I may mention, is a girl. The task is beset
with difficulties, and may prove hopeless. Shortly stated, Mr. Cohen,
this is the case as it at present stands."
"Is there a special reason," inquired Aaron, "for your applying to me
for assistance?"
"Not exactly special; it is in a sense accidental, inspired by my
visit this evening on the other matter we have spoken of. There are
certain particulars in relation to Mrs. Gordon's search for her
daughter which I have omitted. The arrangements for the future
provision of the babe were carried out, I understand, by a firm of
lawyers whose names Mrs. Gordon has been unable to ascertain; but she
is acquainted with the name of the gentleman who in Portsmouth
conveyed Mr. Gordon's proposition to her. This gentleman is Dr.
Spenlove, who, leaving Portsmouth several years ago, has attained an
eminent position in London. You may be acquainted with him."
"He was at my house to-day."
"Then you are on terms of intimacy with him."
"No. We met to-day for the first time."
"In her letter Mrs. Gordon refers me to Dr. Spenlove, and I have not
yet communicated with him. The letter only reached me this morning,
and I have not had time to see him."
"You have not explained why you apply to me."
"The explanation is simple. During her husband's lifetime Mrs. Gordon
faithfully carried out her obligation, and, as it appears to me, no
words passed between them on the subject of the child. In his last
moments, however, he must have relented; unfortunately, he left it too
late to give his wife the information she so eagerly desired; he could
scarcely articulate, and all she could gather from him was that he had
employed an agent to look after the child, and that this agent was of
the Jewish persuasion. The conclusion is that he was a resident of
Portsmouth, but he may not be living; and it has occurred to me that
you, who have friends of your persuasion everywhere, may expedite the
discovery by giving me the name and address of some old inhabitant who
can put us on the track of Mr. Gordon's agent. When the lady arrives
in England she will naturally go to Dr. Spenlove, who will doubtless
assist her in her natural endeavour to obtain intelligence of the fate
of her child. If you can also assist us you will earn a mother's
gratitude."
"I will consider it," said Aaron, and his voice was troubled; "that is
all I can promise at present."
"It is all we can expect of you. There is another peculiar feature in
this strange case. Mrs. Gordon, before she left England, entrusted Dr.
Spenlove with a metal casket in which she had deposited some memorials
of interest; this casket was to be given to the man who undertook to
bring up the child, on the understanding that it was to be handed to
the young lady at the age of twenty-one (supposing, of course, that
she lived to that age), or before that time to be returned to the
mother if she came to claim it. The young lady, if she be living, is
not yet twenty-one, and it is the mother's intention to recover this
casket, if it be possible. It is to be hoped it fell into the hands of
an honest man."
"It is to be hoped so," said Aaron, mechanically.
Mr. Dillworthy said in a kind tone, "It is not an opportune time to
seek your aid in a cause in which you are not personally interested,
when another subject, the welfare of a dear daughter, engrosses your
attention. Pray forgive me, Mr. Cohen."
Aaron bent his head, and as the lawyer closed the door behind him,
sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh.