SEALS OF DESTINY
Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her
mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold of
the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast in
a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father might
detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the
slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression
full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had
compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her
father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with
his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him.
In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was pale
to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard,
bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate
resolve.
That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident;
yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent.
Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils. His
clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too close
together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and
relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust.
She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted
outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though
reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held
her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced
to her father's side.
"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice,
as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long,
for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as
to-night."
"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as
though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of mind. "We were just
about to look at those seals Professor Moyes sent you to-day, weren't
we? Here they are;" and she placed them before the helpless and
afflicted man, endeavouring to remain undisturbed, and taking a chair at
his side, as was her habit when they sat together.
"Yes," he said cheerfully. "Let us see what they are."
The first of the yellow sulphur-casts which he examined bore the
full-length figure of an abbot, with mitre and crosier, in the act of
giving his blessing. Behind him were three circular towers with pointed
roofs surmounted by crosses, while around, in bold early Gothic letters,
ran the inscription
+ S. BENEDITI . ABBATIS . SANTI . AMBROSII . D'RANCIA +
Slowly and with great care his fingers travelled over the raised letters
and design of the oval cast. Then, having also examined the battered old
bronze matrix, he said, "A most excellent specimen, and in first-class
preservation, too! I wonder where it has been found? In Italy, without
doubt."
"What do you make it out to be, dad?" asked the girl, seated in the
chair at his side and as interested in the little antiquity as he was
himself.
"Thirteenth century, my dear--early thirteenth century," he declared
without hesitation. "Genuine, quite genuine, no doubt. The matrix shows
signs of considerable wear. Is there much patina upon it?" he asked.
She turned it over, displaying that thick green corrosion which bronze
acquires only by great age.
"Yes, quite a lot, dad. The raised portion at the back is pierced by a
hole very much worn."
"Worn by the thong by which it was attached to the girdle of successive
abbots through centuries," he declared. "From its inscription, it is the
seal of the Abbot Benedict of the Monastery of St. Ambrose, of Rancia,
in Lombardy. Let me think, now. We should find the history of that house
probably in Sassolini's _Memorials_. Will you get it down, dear?--top
shelf of the fifth case, on the left."
Though blind, he knew just where he could put his hand upon all his most
cherished volumes, and woe betide any one who put a volume back in its
wrong place!
Gabrielle rose, and, obtaining the steps, reached down the great
leather-bound quarto book, which she carried to a reading-desk and at
once searched the index.
The work was in Italian, a language which she knew fairly well; and
after ten minutes or so, during which time the blind man continued
slowly to trace the inscription with his finger-tips, she said, "Here it
is, dad. 'Rancia, near Cremona. The religious brotherhood was founded
there in 1132, and the Abbot Benedict was third abbot, from 1218 to
1231. The church still exists. The magnificent pulpit in marble,
embellished with mosaics, presented in 1272, rests on six columns
supported by lions, with an inscription: "_Nicolaus de Montava
marmorarius hoc opus fecit._" Opposite it is the ambo (1272), in a
simple style, with a representation of Jonah being swallowed by a whale.
In the choir is the throne adorned by mosaics, and the Cappella di San
Pantaleone contains the blood of the saint, together with some relics of
the Abbot Benedict. The cloisters still exist, though, of course, the
monastery is now suppressed.'"
"And this," remarked Sir Henry, turning over the old bronze seal in his
hand, "belonged to the Abbot Ambrose six hundred and fifty years ago!"
"Yes, dad," declared the girl, returning to his side and taking the
matrix herself to examine it under the green-shaded reading-lamp. "The
study of seals is most interesting. It carries one back into the dim
ages. I hope the Professor will allow you to keep these casts for your
collection."
"Yes, I know he will," responded the old Baronet. "He is well aware what
a deep interest I take in my hobby."
"And also that you are one of the first authorities in the world upon
the subject," added his daughter.
The old man sighed. Would that he could see with his eyes once again;
for, after all, the sense of touch was but a poor substitute for that of
sight!
He drew towards him the impression of the second of the oval seals. The
centre was divided into two portions. Above was the half-length figure
of a saint holding a closed book in his hand, and below was a youth with
long hands in the act of adoration. Between them was a scroll upon which
was written: "Sc. Martine O.P.N.," while around the seal were the words
in Gothic characters:
+ SIGIL . HEINRICHI . PLEBANI . D' DOELSC'H +
"This is fourteenth century," pronounced the Baronet, "and is from
Dulcigno, on the Adriatic--the seal of Henry, the vicar of the church of
that place. From the engraving and style," he said, still fingering it
with great care, now and then turning to the matrix in order to satisfy
himself, "I should place it as having been executed about 1350. But it
is really a very beautiful specimen, done at a time when the art of
seal-engraving was at its height. No engraver could to-day turn out a
more ornate and at the same time bold design. Moyes is really very
fortunate in securing this. You must write, my dear, and ask him how
these latest treasures came into his hands."
At his request she got down another of the ponderous volumes of
Sassolini from the high shelf, and read to him, translating from the
Italian the brief notice of the ancient church of Dulcigno, which, it
appeared, had been built in the Lombard-Norman style of the eleventh
century, while the campanile, with columns from Paestum, dated from
1276.
The third seal, the circular one, was larger than the rest, being quite
two inches across. In the centre of the top half was the Madonna with
Child, seated, a male and female figure on either side. Below were three
female figures on either side, the two scenes being divided by a festoon
of flowers, while around the edge ran in somewhat more modern
characters--those of the early sixteenth century--the following:
+ SIGILLVM . VICARIS . GENERALIS . ORDINIS . BEATA . MARIA . D' MON .
CARMEL +
"This," declared Sir Henry, after a long and most minute examination,
"is a treasure probably unequalled in the collection at Cambridge, being
the actual seal of the Vicar-General of the Carmelite order. Its date I
should place at about 1150. Look well, dear, at those flower garlands;
how beautifully they are engraved! Seal-making is, alas! to-day a lost
art. We have only crude and heavy attempts. The company seal seems
to-day the only thing the engraver can turn out--those machines which
emboss upon a big red wafer." And his busy fingers were continuously
feeling the great circular bronze matrix, and a moment afterwards its
sulphur-cast.
He was an enthusiastic antiquary, and long ago, in the days when the
world was light, had read papers before the Society of Antiquaries at
Burlington House upon mediaeval seals and upon the early Latin codices.
Nowadays, however, Gabrielle acted as his eyes; and so devoted was she
to her father that she took a keen interest in his dry-as-dust hobbies,
so that after his long tuition she could decipher and read a
twelfth-century Latin manuscript, on its scrap of yellow, crinkled
parchment, and with all its puzzling abbreviations, almost as well as
any professor of palaeography at the universities, while inscriptions
upon Gothic seals were to her as plain as a paragraph in a newspaper.
More than once, white-haired, spectacled professors who came to
Glencardine as her father's guests were amazed at her intelligent
conversation upon points which were quite abstruse. Indeed, she had no
idea of the remarkable extent of her own antiquarian knowledge, all of
it gathered from the talented man whose affliction had kept her so close
at his side.
For quite an hour her father fingered the three seal-impressions,
discussing them with her in the language of a savant. She herself
examined them minutely and expressed opinions. Now and then she glanced
apprehensively to that open window. He pointed out to her where she was
wrong in her estimate of the design of the circular one, explaining a
technical and little-known detail concerning the seals of the Carmelite
order.
From the window a cool breath of the night-wind came in, fanning the
curtains and carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers without.
"How refreshing!" exclaimed the old man, drawing in a deep breath. "The
night is very close, Gabrielle, dear. I fear we shall have thunder."
"There was lightning only a moment ago," explained the girl. "Shall I
put the casts into your collection, dad?"
"Yes, dear. Moyes no doubt intends that I should keep them."
Gabrielle rose, and, passing across to a large cabinet with many shallow
drawers, she opened one, displaying a tray full of casts of seals, each
neatly arranged, with its inscription and translation placed beneath,
all in her own clear handwriting.
Some of the drawers contained the matrices as well as the casts; but as
matrices of mediaeval seals are rarities, and seldom found anywhere save
in the chief public museums, it is no wonder that the bulk of private
collections consist of impressions.
Presently, at the Baronet's suggestion, she closed and locked the
cabinet, and then took up a bundle of business documents, which she
commenced to sort out and arrange.
She acted as her father's private secretary, and therefore knew much of
his affairs. But many things were to her a complete mystery, be it said.
Though devoted to her father, she nevertheless sometimes became filled
with a vague suspicion that the source of his great income was not
altogether an open and honest one. The papers and letters she read to
him often contained veiled information which sorely puzzled her, and
which caused her many hours of wonder and reflection. Her father lived
alone, with only her as companion. Her stepmother, a young,
good-looking, and giddy woman, never dreamed the truth.
What would she do, how would she act, Gabrielle wondered, if ever she
gained sight of some of those private papers kept locked in the cavity
beyond the black steel door concealed by the false bookcase at the
farther end of the fine old restful room?
The papers she handled had been taken from the safe by Sir Henry
himself. And they contained a man's secret.