Transcriber's Notes:
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http://archive.org/details/secretinheritanc02farj
(University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
A SECRET INHERITANCE
A
SECRET INHERITANCE
BY
B. L. FARJEON,
AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA,"
"THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES_
VOL. II
LONDON
WARD AND DOWNEY
12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C.
1887
Richard Clay and Sons,
LONDON AND BUNGAY.
A SECRET INHERITANCE.
* * * * * *
BOOK THE FIRST (_Continued_).
THE RECORD OF GABRIEL CAREW.
VOL. II.
CHAPTER XIV.
"I travelled for many months alone. I made acquaintances which never
ripened into friendships, and seldom did twenty-four hours pass
without my thoughts wandering to Silvain. Thinking it not unlikely
that one or both of the brothers had returned to their home in
Germany, I wrote several letters to them there, without receiving an
answer. This portentous silence increased rather than diminished my
interest in the man I loved as a brother. In speaking of him in these
terms I am but giving faithful expression to the feelings I
entertained for him; up to that time I had never met a human being,
man or woman, who had so entirely won my affectionate regard.
"Family circumstances rendered me more than ever my own master; I was
free to go whithersoever my inclination led me, and certainly my
inclination pointed clearly to that part of the world where I should
be most likely to find my dear friend. But I had no clue to guide me;
to turn east, west, north, or south, in search of him would have been
a hap-hazard proceeding, and to hope for success in so unintelligent a
search would have been the hope of a madman. My anxiety with respect
to the fate of Silvain and Kristel never deserted me, but it was many
years before I was enabled to take up the links in the chain.
"During those years a great and happy change occurred in my own life.
I interrupt the course of my narrative here to remark that it is
singular I should be relating this history fully, for the first time,
within a comparatively short distance of places in which the most
pregnant--and indeed terrible--incidents in the career of the twin
brothers were brought to my knowledge. My wife is acquainted with some
portions of this history, but not with all. The lighthouse in which
Avicia was born is within a hundred miles of this spot. Indirectly it
led me to the acquaintance of the lady who became my wife, and to as
great a happiness as any man can hope to enjoy.
"Nerac is not my birthplace, and it was in passing through the lovely
village on one of my visits to the village by the sea--visits made in
the vain hope of obtaining intelligence of Silvain--that I was
introduced to her. I pass over the records of a time which lives in my
remembrance as a heavenly summer. Happy is the man who has enjoyed
such a season. Happier is the man to whom such a season is the
harbinger of such home joys as have fallen to my lot.
"When I first made the acquaintance of my wife, and for some years
afterwards, her parents were alive, and I saw that it would be cruel
to ask her to leave them. I did not put her love to such a test. I
settled in Nerac, and married there.
"It is a solemnly strange reflection by what chance threads we are led
to our destiny--a destiny which may be one of honour or shame, and
which may bring a blessing or a curse into the lives of others whom,
but for the most accidental circumstance, we should never have seen.
The doctrine of responsibility is but little understood. Thus, had it
not been for my chance meeting with Silvain in London, I should never
have known my wife, and it seems to me impossible that I should have
been a happy or a good man without her. Such women as she keep men
pure.
"Midway between Nerac and the village by the sea to which Kristel led
his brother in his pursuit of the girl who was to bring them to their
doom lies a forest of great extent, and it was in this forest, after a
lapse of four years, that I came once more into association with
Silvain and Avicia. I was called in that direction upon important
business; at that period of my life I was an ardent pedestrian, and if
the opportunity offered, was glad to make my way on foot, without
respect to distance. I may confide to you that I was in the habit of
taking a great deal of exercise because I was afraid of growing fat.
"I was unacquainted with the locality, and I took a short cut, which
proved a long one. When darkness fell I found myself entrapped in the
forest amidst a wilderness of trees. Never shall I forget the night
and the day that followed. It was such a night as that upon which you,
my friend, were lying helpless in the woods near Nerac. Not relishing
the idea of passing a number of lonely hours in such a place and under
such circumstances, I made a vigorous effort to escape from the gloomy
labyrinth. I did not succeed, and it was one o'clock in the morning by
my watch before I made up my mind like a sensible person to rest till
daylight. So I sat me down upon the trunk of a tree, and made the best
of matters. Fatigued with my exertions I dozed for a few moments, then
started up with a vague feeling of alarm, for which there was no
cause, then dozed again and again, with repetitions of similar
uneasiness; and finally I fell fast asleep.
"It was full daylight when I awoke. I arose refreshed, and gazed
around with smiles and a light heart, despite that I was hungry and
that there was no water in sight. I had no doubt that I should soon
find myself in some place where I could obtain food. Resolving upon my
course I set forward in the direction of rising ground, from the
summit of which I should be able to overlook the country. In one part
of the forest I was traversing the trees were very thickly clustered,
and it was here I chanced upon the forms of a man and a woman lying on
the ground asleep. The circumstance was strange, and I leant over the
sleeping persons to see their faces. I could scarcely repress a cry of
astonishment at the discovery that the man was Silvain and the woman
Avicia. It was from an impulsive desire not to disturb them that I
uttered no sound, for truly their appearance was such as to excite my
deep compassion.
"Avicia's head was pillowed upon Silvain's right arm, and his left
hand was clasped in hers. In complete ignorance of what had brought
them to this miserable position, there was, to my mind, in this close
clasping of his hand in hers, a kind of protection, as though she were
making an instinctive effort to shield him from a hidden danger. The
faces of both were wan with suffering, and their clothes were poor and
ragged. I trembled to think that they might be in want of food.
"As I gazed in pity and apprehension Silvain moved. A spasm of fear
passed across his face, and he exclaimed in terror, 'Avicia! Avicia!
He is coming nearer--nearer! We must fly!'
"Before the words were uttered she was awake and on her feet. She saw
me without recognising me, and she sank to the ground again, with a
piercing scream which curdled through my veins, so much of fear and
terror did it express. Dazed, and not yet fully awakened, Silvain
threw himself before her in an attitude of protection.
"'Silvain!' I cried; 'do you not know me?'
"He looked up with a shudder, and passed his hand across his eyes. It
was like the look of an intelligent animal who is being hunted to his
death. But a softer expression came slowly into them as he gazed upon
me and saw that it was a friend and not an enemy who stood before him.
I spoke no further word at the moment, for the tears were running down
his haggard face; his overcharged heart had found relief, and I turned
from him.
"Presently I felt his hand upon my arm.
"'It is really you?' he said in a broken voice.
"'No doubt of that, Silvain,' I said in a cheerful tone, purposely
assumed to put him at his ease, 'unless life is a delusion.'
"'Would it were!' he muttered, 'would it were!' And then,
suspiciously, 'Did you come to seek me?'
"'No, Silvain; it is pure accident, if there be such a thing as
accident.'
"'There is not,' he said; 'all is ordained.'
"'One of our old arguments, Silvain,' I said, still with a cheerful
air; I would not humour his gloomy mood.
"'Do not mock me;' and he spread his hands, with upturned palms. 'Can
you not see?'
"'I can see that you are in bad trim, which can easily be set right.
Silvain,' I said reproachfully, 'this is not as we used to meet. I
come to you with open arms, and you receive me with doubt and
suspicion. Are we not, as we always were and always shall be, friends
staunch and true? You are the same Silvain; I am the same Louis;
unchanged, as you will find me if you care to prove me.'
"Avicia had risen and crept close to my side.
"'Friends staunch and true,' she said, echoing my words. 'You are not
mocking him?'
"'Indeed, no.'
"'Then give us food,' she said.
"At this appeal I felt my pretended cheerfulness deserting me, but I
caught the would-be runaway, and held it fast.
"'Food!' I exclaimed, rattling some money in my pocket. 'Would that I
knew where to obtain it! Here am I, starving, lost in the woods last
night, and with not an idea now how to get out of them. Can you show
me the way?'
"'Yes,' she replied eagerly.
"'Then I am fortunate, indeed, in lighting on you, and I bless the
chance. Ah, Silvain, how I searched for you! To leave me, without ever
a word--I would not have believed it of you. It was as though you
doubted my friendship, which,' I added, 'is as sincere at this moment
as ever it was in the years gone by.' Here there was a little choking
in my throat because of the tears which again flowed from his eyes. 'I
went to the village three times to get news of you, and had to come
away unsatisfied. I wrote to your home in Germany, and received no
reply. We have much to tell each other. But I am forgetting. You are
faint and weary, and so am I. Can you take us to an inn where we can
put some cheerful life into our bodies?'
"I addressed this last question to Avicia, and she answered 'Yes,' and
was about to lead the way when Silvain stopped her.
"'Is it on our road?' he asked.
"'Yes,' she answered, 'it is on our road.'
"He motioned to her to proceed, and she stepped forward, Silvain and I
walking side by side in the rear. This companionship was of my
prompting, for had I not detained him he would have joined Avicia. I
was burning with curiosity to learn what had befallen my friend during
the last few years, but I restrained myself from asking questions
which I felt he was not in the proper frame of mind at present to
answer. Therefore as we walked onwards it was chiefly I who had to
beguile the way. I told him all that had passed since we last met,
narrated adventures which in former times would have interested him,
and spoke freely of my settlement in life and of the happiness of my
home. He acknowledged my efforts in monosyllables, but volunteered
nothing of himself or Avicia. At the end of about an hour's walk we
arrived at a village, in which there was one poor inn, and there we
halted. Before we entered Silvain said,
"'A word first. I have been seemingly churlish and ungrateful, but I
am not so. My heart is overflowing with thankfulness; presently,
perhaps, I may have courage to unbosom myself. You are as you were;
life is fair and sweet to you.'
"It was only because he paused here that I spoke: 'And will be to you,
Silvain.'
"'Never again,' he said. 'I am followed by a relentless spirit; I have
been pursued for years by one who was heart of my heart, soul of my
soul, but who now, from feelings of revenge, and as he believes of
justice, is my bitter enemy.'
"'Dare I mention his name, Silvain?'
"'I will do so. My brother Kristel. It is of him I wish to say a word
to you before I partake of your charity.'
"'Silvain!' I cried, in remonstrance.
"'Forgive me. I am tormented because of my condition, because of
Avicia's misery. Answer me honestly. Is it really true that you came
upon us by chance in the woods?'
"'It is really true.'
"'Kristel did not send you?'
"'I have not seen Kristel since you and I last met.'
"'Nor heard from him?'
"'Nor heard from him.'
"He took the hand I held out to him, and we followed Avicia into the
inn, where, very soon, we were seated at a table with a modest meal
before us. The food was poor enough, the wine was thin and common, but
we could scarcely have enjoyed a grand banquet more. I speak not alone
for myself, but for Silvain and Avicia; it was evident to me that they
had not had many full meals lately. Avicia especially ate ravenously,
and with a perfect sense of animal enjoyment, and it was only when she
had finished that a certain terror, which I had observed in both her
and Silvain, again asserted itself.
"'Remain here a while, Avicia,' said Silvain, at the end of the meal;
'I wish to speak to our friend alone.'
"'Are we safe?' she asked.
"'I think so; I hope so. Sleep; it will do you good.'
"'Thank you, Silvain.'
"She was seated on a hard bench, not conducive to repose; nevertheless
she closed her eyes, and was almost immediately asleep.
"'Poor girl!' said Silvain, with a sigh, 'she has suffered much--and
in a few weeks will become a mother.'
"We strolled up and down outside the inn and conversed.
"'You have behaved to us with true friendship,' he said; 'and yet you
can see we are beggars. Are you prospering?'
"I am not rich,' I replied, 'but I can spare to a friend.'
"'We are making our way to Avicia's home, to the lighthouse upon which
I saw her for the first time otherwise than in my dreams. I doubt
whether you can turn aside the finger of Fate as I behold it, pointing
downwards to a grave, but you can perhaps help us to cheat it for a
short time.'
"'You speak strangely, Silvain; the ominous fears which oppress you
may be bred by a disordered fancy.'
"'In our former intercourse,' was his reply, 'was my fancy ever
disordered? I advanced nothing that was not afterwards proved; I made
no pretence of accounting for the warnings I received; I make none
now. I shudder to think of the future, not so much for my own sake as
for Avicia's. Helpless, penniless, without a friend----'
"'You are forgetting me, Silvain?'
"'Ah, yes, my friend, as you still declare yourself to be; I cannot
but believe you. But Avicia----'
"'I am her friend as well as yours.'
"'For God's sake, do not speak lightly! You do not know to what a pass
I am driven.'
"'You shall enlighten me, and I maybe able to counsel you. Do not
think I am speaking lightly, As I am your friend, so am I Avicia's. As
I will stand by you, so will I stand by her.'
"'In perfect faith, Louis?'
"It was the first time he had uttered my name, and I held it as a sign
that I had dispelled his distrust. I replied, 'In perfect faith,
Silvain.'
"'I accept it so. When I am gone, she will not be quite alone in the
world. And now, will you give me a little money? I do not ask you to
lend it to me, for I have no expectation of being able to repay you. I
will briefly explain the necessity for it. We are bound for the
lighthouse. It is our only refuge, and there our child will be born.
May it prove a comfort to the mother! We have fifty miles to go, and
Avicia is not strong enough to walk----'
"'Say no more,' I interrupted, 'of the necessity for such a trifle; I
can spare you more than sufficient for your purpose.'
"I took from my purse what was requisite for my immediate needs, and
pressed the purse with the coins that remained into his hand. He took
it in silence, and his emaciated form shook with gratitude.
"'You ask no questions about these,' he said, pointing to his rags.
"'Why should I?' I asked in return. 'But there are one or two points
upon which you might satisfy me.'
"'I cannot go into my history, Louis. If you will give me your address
I will send it to you before the week is out. Indeed, after your noble
promise with respect to Avicia, it is yours by right. It will not only
enlighten, it will guide you.'
"'I will wait for it, and will make an opportunity of seeing you soon
after I have read it. The points I wish to mention are these: While
you and Avicia were sleeping in the forest, and I stood looking down
upon you, you cried--not because of my presence, of which you were
ignorant, but because of some disturbing dream--"He is coming
nearer--nearer! We must fly!" To whom did you refer?'
"'To my brother Kristel. He is pursuing us.'
"'To your hurt?'
"'To my destruction.'
"'Then you have seen him?'
"'I have not seen him. I know it through my dreams, as of old. You
could not doubt their truth when we travelled together--ah, those
happy days!--you cannot doubt it now.'
"'Then, what was love between you has turned to hate?' The words
escaped me unaware; I repented of them the moment they were spoken.
"'Yes,' said Silvain, in a tone of deepest sadness, 'what was love
between us is turned to hate. Ask me no more questions--in pity!'
"'But one, Silvain. Have you any children?'
"'None. The babe that Avicia will soon press to her breast will be our
first-born.'
"To matters upon which I saw he was then unwilling to converse, I made
no further reference. He engaged a light cart and horse, and a man to
drive them to the village by the sea. Then he woke Avicia, and I said
farewell to them, and gazed after them till they were out of sight.
"As he had promised, I received from him before the end of the week a
statement of his adventures. It is now among my papers in Nerac, and I
remember perfectly all the salient particulars necessary to my story,
which is now drawing to a conclusion. I will narrate them in my own
way, asking you to recall the day upon which the brothers were last
seen in the village by the sea."