MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS
Thanking the captain for his courtesy, Miss Carleton returned to
her accustomed seat on deck, and, since one is never more alone
than when surrounded by a crowd of utter strangers, she felt at
liberty to pursue her own thoughts without interruption.
She could scarcely credit what her own ears had heard or her eyes
had seen. Harold Scott Mainwaring! What could it mean? Could it
be possible that the secretary, having familiarized himself with
the family history of the Mainwarings, was now masquerading under
an assumed name for some object of his own? But she dismissed
this idea at once. She had assured him at Fair Oaks that she
believed him incapable of anything false or dishonorable, and she
would abide by that belief until convinced otherwise. But if this
were indeed his name, what had been his object in assuming the role
of Scott, the secretary? Which was genuine and which assumed? Who
could tell? As if in answer to her thoughts, she saw the subject
of them approaching. He was alone and looking in her direction,
and on reading the recognition in her glance, his own face lighted
with a smile that banished the last shade of resentment and
suspicion from her mind, albeit there was a question in her eyes
which prepared him in a measure for her first words. With a smile
as bright as those with which she had been accustomed to greet him
at Fair Oaks, she extended her band, saying, slowly,--
"Mr. Mainwaring, this is indeed a surprise!" She watched him
closely, but there was not the quiver of an eyelash, only a slow,
inscrutable smile, as he replied,--
"Miss Carleton, I will add to that, and say that this is the
pleasantest surprise of my life."
She blushed at the implied meaning of his words, and he added,--
"I have not seen you on deck until to-day."
"Not last Friday evening?" she inquired, archly. His smile deepened.
"I did not know that it was you at that time until after I had
started below. Did you recognize me?"
"I thought I recognized your voice; and I have often wished to thank
you for your kindness, but this is my first opportunity, as I have
not been out since until to-day."
"Please do not mention it. Had I dreamed who it was thus braving
the storm, I would have offered my assistance earlier. I have not
yet recovered from my surprise on discovering the identity of my
fellow-passenger that evening."
"Indeed!" laughed Miss Carleton; "my presence here is very easily
explained. It is simply the result of one of Mrs. Mainwaring's
numerous whims, as she suddenly decided upon an immediate return to
England. I think, however, that the surprise was mutual."
"Accordingly, I suppose that mutual explanations should follow,"
he answered, lightly. Then added, more seriously, "Miss Carleton,
I am aware that there is much in my conduct that must seem
inexplicable to you. In a few weeks everything will have been
made clear, in the natural course of events; but, if you would be
at all interested to hear, I would greatly prefer that you should
have a perfect understanding of the situation before the facts
become generally known."
"I should greatly appreciate such a mark of confidence," she replied.
"If agreeable to you, Miss Carleton, let us pass around to the other
side; it is less crowded there. My friend and I have two chairs,
and, as he has gone to his state-room to do some writing, we shall
be in no danger of interruption."
When comfortably seated, the young man said, "It is a strange story
which I have to tell, but I will try not to tax your patience too
severely. One week ago this afternoon, Miss Carleton, in passing
through the hall at Fair Oaks, I accidentally overheard a portion
of your conversation with Mr. Whitney, as you related to him the
story of the unfortunate love and death of my father, Harold Scott
Mainwaring."
Miss Carleton started violently, but said nothing, and, after a
slight pause, the speaker continued,--
"My earliest recollections are of a home in Australia, with
foster-parents, whose name it is unnecessary to mention, but whose
care and love for me seem, as I now look back, to have equalled that
bestowed by natural parents upon their own child. Not until I had
reached the age of fifteen years did I ever hear of my own father.
I then learned that he had given me, at birth, into the keeping
of my foster-parents, with instructions that, unless he himself
should call for me, I was not even to know of his existence until
within five or six years of my majority. I learned, further, that
his action in thus placing me in the hands of others had been
solely on account of deep trouble and sorrow, of which he wished me
to know nothing until I had reached the years of manhood. When
giving me into their keeping he had also given them a small packet,
containing a sealed letter, which was to be read by me on my
twenty-first birthday, if he had not himself claimed me before that
time. I was told that, while I was too young to retain any
remembrance of him, he frequently visited me and manifested the
greatest devotion to his child, but as I grew older he remained
away, writing occasionally to my foster-father.
"In the last letter received from him, when I was about five years
of age, he stated that he was going to Africa to make a fortune for
his son. Nothing further was heard from him until there came tidings
of his death at sea, in the manner which you recently related.
"Of all this I, of course, knew nothing until ten years later, but
what was told me at that time made a deep impression upon me. Of my
mother I could learn absolutely nothing; but for my father, of whom
I had no personal knowledge, and concerning whom there seemed so
much that was mysterious, I felt a love and reverence almost akin to
adoration, and I longed for the day to come when I could read the
letter he had left for me and learn the whole secret of that sad
life.
"My twenty-first birthday arrived, and the mysterious little packet
was placed in my hands. It contained a few valuable keepsakes and
my father's letter, written out of the bitter anguish of a broken
heart. He told the story of his disinheritance, with which you are
familiar; but the loss of the property he cared little for in
comparison with the loss of his father's love; but even that was as
nothing to the sorrow which followed swiftly and which broke his
heart. He stated that, because of this great sorrow, he had placed
me in the hands of trusted friends that I should be banished from
the false-hearted woman who had borne me and who believed me dead,
as it was his wish that neither of us should ever know of the
existence of the other."
Harold Mainwaring paused for a moment, and Miss Carleton, who had
been listening with great interest, exclaimed,--
"And is it possible, Mr. Mainwaring, that, in all these years, you
have had no knowledge concerning your mother?"
"It is a fact, Miss Carleton, that I do not even know her name, or
whether or not she is living. I only hope and pray that I may
never knowingly meet her, for her heart and life must be--pardon
the expression--as false and as black as hell itself."
There was a look on his face which Miss Carleton had never seen.
Gradually, however, his features softened, and he continued,--
"In accordance with my father's wish, expressed in the letter, that
I should complete my studies in England, I sailed for that country
within a few weeks of my twenty-first birthday; and while there I
learned that part of my story which is of more especial interest to
all parties concerned at the present time.
"I had been but a few months in England when I felt a great desire
to visit, incognito, the old Mainwaring estate. Accordingly, under
the name by which you have known me, I arrived at the estate, only
to learn that the home of my father's boyhood, and of the Mainwarings
for several generations, had passed into the hands of strangers.
My grandfather had died within two years of my father's marriage,
and the younger son had sold the estate and gone to America.
Incidentally, I was directed to an old servant of my grandfather's,
who yet remained on the place and who could give me its whole
history. That servant, Miss Carleton, was old James Wilson, the
father of John Wilson, Ralph Mainwaring's present valet."
"Ah!" ejaculated Miss Carleton, her face lighting with pleasure; "I
have seen the trusty old fellow hundreds of times, you know. Indeed,
he could give you the history of all the Mainwarings for the last
three hundred years."
"He gave me one very important bit of history," Harold Mainwaring
replied, with a smile. "He told me that old Ralph Mainwaring, after
the departure of his son for Australia, failed rapidly. He was
slowly but surely dying of a broken heart, and, though he never
mentioned the name of his elder son, it was evident that he regretted
his own harshness and severity towards him.
"On the night before his death he suddenly gave orders for an
attorney to be summoned, and was so insistent in his demand, that,
when it was ascertained that his old solicitor, Alfred Barton, the
father of the present firm of Barton & Barton, had been called out
of the city, a young lawyer, Richard Hobson by name, who had formerly
been an articled clerk in Barton's office, was called in in his
stead. A little before the hour of midnight, in the presence of his
son, Hugh Mainwaring, Richard Hobson, the attorney, and Alexander
McPherson, an old and trusted Scotch friend, Ralph Mainwaring caused
to be drawn and executed a will, completely revoking and setting
aside the process of law by which Harold Scott Mainwaring had been
disinherited, and restoring to him his full rights as the elder son,
McPherson and the attorney signing the will as witnesses."
Miss Carleton's eyes dilated and her breath came and went swiftly,
but she spoke no word save a single, quick exclamation.
"James Wilson, the servant, was also present, but in an obscure
corner, and his presence seems to have been unnoticed. The next
morning, at five o'clock, Ralph Mainwaring passed away, happy in
the thought that he had at last made reparation for his injustice
to his elder son. Within two months the old Scotchman died, and
Richard Hobson was then the sole surviving witness of the last will
and testament of Ralph Maxwell Mainwaring.
"This was all the direct information I could obtain from Wilson,
but from other sources I learned that Hugh Mainwaring was never the
same after his father's death. He grew stern and taciturn, and
would allow no mention of his brother's name, and within two years
he had disposed of the estate and left England forever; while a few
years later tidings were received of the death of Harold Scott
Mainwaring at sea. I also learned that about this time Richard
Hobson suddenly rose from the position of a penniless pettifogger
to that of an affluent attorney, though he was engaged in
questionable speculations far more than in the practice of law.
"I visited the chambers of Barton & Barton, and learned through
them that everything had been adjusted in accordance with the terms
of the will in their possession, which disinherited the elder son;
but Hugh Mainwaring's action in disposing of the estate had excited
considerable comment.
"Having pledged them to secrecy, I disclosed my identity and
related to them the story of the old servant. To my surprise, they
were inclined to give the story credence; and, acting upon their
advice, I obtained all possible information regarding Hugh
Mainwaring, and, when my studies were completed, sailed for America,
with the express determination to secure proof in verification of
the facts which I had already gathered, and to establish my claim
as the legal heir of the Mainwaring estate. I was not without means
to do this, as my father had accumulated considerable property
during the few years he lived in Australia, and my foster-parents
are people of wealth.
"You will understand now, Miss Carleton, why I took the position of
private secretary to Hugh Mainwaring. You will realize how eagerly
I studied the correspondence between him and Richard Hobson, from
which I learned that the latter was extorting large sums of money
as the price of his silence regarding some fraudulent transaction,
presumably the destruction of the will; and perhaps you can imagine
my feelings on discovering, one day, among Hugh Mainwaring's private
papers, a memorandum to the effect that the will had never been
destroyed, but was still in existence and in his possession. I
knew that to make any demand upon him for the document would be
worse than useless, as he would never admit my claim. I must find
it for myself. I searched for that will as for hidden treasure, and,
Miss Carleton, I found it!"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, unable to repress her emotion, "I am so glad!
Do tell me how and when!"
"I found it on the last day of Hugh Mainwaring's life, within two
hours after he had signed his own last will and testament."
"What a strange coincidence!"
"It was strange; and it was my discovery on that day which formed
the subject of my thoughts on the following night, the night of the
murder, and which kept me pacing my room until three o'clock in
the morning."
"Did Mr. Mainwaring know of your discovery?"
"No; I had no opportunity to see him that evening until too late,
even if I had chosen to broach the subject to him at that time."
"Might he not have discovered in some way that you had found the
will?"
"I think not. Why do you inquire?"
"It only occurred to me if it might not be possible that he had
reason to think his secret had at last been discovered, and, rather
than face the consequences, committed suicide; but it seems
improbable. But to think that you are the son of the one whom I
have always considered the noblest of all the Mainwarings, and that
you, and not Hugh, are the rightful heir to the old Mainwaring
estate! I am more than glad, and Hugh will be glad also. He will
not begrudge you one shilling or have one unkind thought towards
you, though I cannot say the same for his father."
"Hugh is a noble-hearted fellow," said Harold, warmly. "He has
promised me his friendship, and I believe he will stand by it."
He spoke briefly of his plans; of his business in London for a few
days; and, when the will should have been probated in the English
court, of his return to America to establish his claim there.
"Mr. Mainwaring," said Miss Carleton, after a pause, "I am
inexpressibly glad to learn what you have told me, and you have my
sincerest wishes for your immediate success. I appreciate, more
than I can tell, your confidence in permitting me to be the first
to know of your good fortune. May I be the first to congratulate
you?"
He took the proffered hand; but, looking into the beautiful eyes
sparkling with happiness, his own face grew serious, as he replied,--
"I thank you for your congratulations and your good wishes, Miss
Carleton, but I sometimes question whether my discovery, on that
particular day, of the will--the last link in the chain of
evidence against Hugh Mainwaring--was a matter for congratulation."
"How is that?" she inquired, quickly.
"Do you not see that when all these facts become known, they may be
used by my enemies to direct suspicion against me as the possible
murderer of Hugh Mainwaring?"
"Who would think of such a thing?" she exclaimed, indignantly.
"Ralph Mainwaring will," was his prompt reply.
"He might try to incite the suspicions of others against you, but he
would know in his own heart that his insinuations were unfounded."
"I have no fear of him," said Harold, with a smile; "I only mentioned
it to show that I do not anticipate upon my return to America that
my pathway will be strewn with roses."
He paused a moment, then added, "I had this in mind, Miss Carleton,
when I asked you once whether your confidence in me were strong
enough to stand a heavy strain, if necessary."
She blushed slightly at the reminder, and a look of quick
comprehension flashed across her face, as, for an instant, she
dropped her eyes before his earnest gaze. When she again looked
up the luminous eyes met his own unwaveringly, as she replied, in
firm, low tones,--
"I will believe in you and trust you to the fullest extent, whatever
happens."
"I thank you more than I can express," he answered, gravely; "for,
believe me, Miss Carleton, I value your confidence and friendship
far above any and every other."
"I did not suppose you needed any assurance of my friendship; though,
after your sudden departure from Fair Oaks, I felt somewhat doubtful
whether you cared for it."
He did not reply at once, and when he did, it was evident he was
repressing some strong emotion. "I feel that there is an explanation
due you for my manner of leaving Fair Oaks. I am aware that it had
the appearance of rudeness, but I can only say that it was from
necessity and not from choice. There is something more which I hope
some day to tell you, Miss Carleton, but, until I can speak as I
wish to speak, it is best to remain silent; meanwhile, I will trust
to your friendship to pardon whatever in my conduct may seem abrupt
or inexplicable."
The conversation was terminated at this point by the appearance of
Lieutenant Cohen, whom Harold Mainwaring introduced as an old
classmate, and presently all three adjourned to the dining-saloon.
To Harold Mainwaring and Miss Carleton the remainder of the voyage
passed swiftly and pleasantly, and the friendship begun at Fair Oaks
deepened with each succeeding day. Though no word of love passed
between them, and though Miss Carleton sometimes detected on the
part of her companion a studied avoidance of personal subjects, yet,
while wondering slightly at his self-imposed silence, she often
read in his dark eyes a language more eloquent than words, and was
content to wait.
It was his desire that the other members of her party should still
remain in ignorance of his real identity; and, as the greater part
of the voyage proved somewhat rough, he had little difficulty in
preserving his secret. Mr. Thornton and daughter soon made their
appearance and greeted the quondam secretary with unaffected
cordiality, but Mr. Thornton was too deeply engrossed in renewing
acquaintance with one or two old friends to pay much attention to
the younger man, while Edith felt in duty bound to devote herself
to the entertainment of Mrs. Mainwaring and Isabel, a task which
Miss Carleton was not at all disposed to share. Not until the last
few hours of the trip, when fair weather had become an established
fact and land had been sighted, did Mrs. Mainwaring and her daughter
appear on deck, and in the general excitement Harold Mainwaring
escaped their observation.
The parting between himself and Miss Carleton was necessarily brief.
She gave him her address, saying,--
"I would be delighted if you could consider yourself our guest while
in London, and I hope at least that I may see you often before your
return."
"I thank you, Miss Carleton," he replied. "If present circumstances
would admit of it, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to
accept your invitation, but under existing conditions it is, of
course, impracticable. I cannot now say how long I will remain in
London, but I wish to make my stay as brief as possible, and to that
end shall devote almost my entire time to business; but," he added,
with a peculiar smile, "I shall not repeat the offence committed at
Fair Oaks. You may rest assured I shall not return to America
without seeing you, and I hope at that time to be able to speak
more definitely regarding my future."
There was that in his eyes as he spoke that suffused the fair
English face with lovely color and caused a tender, wistful smile
to linger about the sweet mouth long after he had left her side.
He was one of the first to land, and Miss Carleton, watching from
the deck, saw, almost as soon as he had reached the pier, a
fine-looking gentleman in the prime of life step quickly out from,
the crowd, and, grasping him cordially by the hand, enter at once
into earnest conversation. Harold Mainwaring turned towards the
steamer for a parting salute, and, as both gentlemen raised their
hats, she recognized in the new-comer, Alfred Barton, the junior
member of the firm of Barton & Barton. She watched them until
they disappeared in the crowd, then, turning to rejoin her
companions, she noted, standing at a little distance, the slender,
dark-eyed individual whom she had observed on previous occasions,
also watching the scene with a smile of quiet satisfaction, much
like that which Mr. Merrick's face had worn at the beginning of the
Voyage.