A Monk of Cruta

  CHAPTER XXIX

  "ADREA'S DIARY"

  "Love, blossoming in the roses, holds a dagger in her hands."

  We were alone, Paul and I, in that great, solemn room, full of pale,phantom-like lights and quivering shadows. He was standing a fewyards away from me, with his head half averted, and his eyes full ofa great, hopeless despair. In silence I approached him, and took hisdeath-cold hand in mine.

  "It is no matter," I whispered; "I do not care for your mother!Her words are nothing! I will not leave you--not till you tell meeverything."

  "Everything!" He echoed the word, and looked at me helplessly."Everything! Tell you everything!"

  Suddenly there was a change. The numbed, helpless look left his face,and his features were relaxed. He was himself again; a strong, braveman, only shaken by the storm.

  "Adrea, forgive me! Did you think that I was going mad? I have hada terrible shock, and I have been up all night listening to a storywhich brings great suffering and misery upon me!"

  His eyes had suddenly a far-away look in them, so sad that I feltthe tears rush into mine. I pressed his hand to let him know that Iunderstood; but I kept my face turned from him. Ah! love is a strangething, indeed! If I had not cared, Paul, I could have sympathised withyou so nicely, and made so many pretty speeches. But I love you, andit made me feel very strange and solemn. I had nothing to say; myheart was too full. Did you understand, I wonder? Will you everunderstand? Paul, my love! my love! It is so sweet to say that overand over to myself in this dark chamber, where there is no one to hearme, or to see me looking so foolish. You make me feel so different,Paul! That is because you yourself are so different from all the men Iknow; from all the men I have ever seen.

  We stood there, quite silent, for some moments. Then he drew a quick,stifled breath, and caught hold of my hands. "I cannot breathe in thisplace," he said, looking half fearfully around; "the very air seemstainted with that horrible story, and its ghosts are lurking in everycorner!"

  "Let me draw the curtains," I whispered. "The sunlight will banishthem. You are dazed."

  He held my hand tightly, and drew me towards the window. "Never mindthe curtains! We will go out; out over the moor."

  He was feverishly impatient to be gone, but I held him back. "Yourclothes!" I reminded him. "And you have no hat!"

  He looked down doubtfully at his disordered evening dress, and thenreleased my hands. "Wait for me, here," he begged. "Promise that youwill not go away; that nothing shall make you go."

  I promised.

  "See! I shall lock the door," he continued, as he reached thethreshold. "No one can come in and disturb you!"

  "Please to have some tea and a bath!" I begged. "I do not mindwaiting. You will be ill, if you do not mind."

  He was gone about half an hour. Once, some one came and tried thedoor, but I took no notice. At last I heard the key turn in the lock,and he entered. "Did you think that I was long?" he asked, coming upto me with a smile.

  I shook my head; my eyes were full of tears, and there was a lump inmy throat. I could not speak. He had changed all his clothes, and wascarefully dressed in a brown tweed shooting suit and gaiters, butthe correctness and order of his external appearance seemed only toemphasize the ravages which one single night's suffering had wroughtupon his strong, handsome face. Hard, cruel lines had furrowed theirway across his forehead, and under his eyes were deep black marks. Hisbronze cheeks were white and sunken, and a bright red spot burned onone of them. But it was a change of which the details could give noidea. His face had caught the inflection of his inward agony, andretained it. It was there, if not for the world to see, at any rateterribly evident to me, to those who loved him.

  He was quite calm now, however. It was as though the fires ofsuffering had burnt themselves out, leaving behind them a silent,charred desolation. He took my arm, and together we left the room,passing through the high French windows and along an open terraceuntil we reached the gardens. We turned down a broad walk bordered byhigh yew hedges, at the bottom of which was a little gate leading intothe park. The air was fragrant with the perfume of violets, and earlystocks and hyacinths, mingled every now and then with a more delicateperfume from the greenhouses on the other side of the red-brick wall.How beautiful it all seemed, in that sweet, dancing sunlight!--thesongs of the birds, the blossoming fruit-trees, and pink-buddedchestnuts, the scents which floated about on the soft west breeze, andthe constant humming of bees and other winged insects. Only in Englandcould there have been so sudden a change from the grey mists andleaden skies of yesterday. Even in that moment of extreme tension Icould not help an exclamation of admiration as we came to an end ofthe gravelled walk, and Paul held open for me a little iron gate.

  "How beautiful your home is!" I cried. "How you must love it!"

  A look almost of agony passed across his face. It came and went ina moment. "Yes! I love it!" he answered, "but it is not my home.Henceforth I have no home. I may well be thankful that I have even aname!"

  I looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but he walked on insilence. It was not until we were half-way across the park that Ispoke. "I do not understand!" I said softly. "Will you not tell mesomething of your trouble?"

  "I would that I could, Adrea!" he answered. His voice was so gentle,and yet his face was so stern. "But no, I cannot. It is a secret. Itis only a blotted page of our family history made clear to me. But italters everything!"

  "Does it make you poorer?" I asked falteringly.

  He looked down in my eyes bravely; but his voice shook as he answered:"If it be true--as I scarcely doubt--it takes from me everything: mymoney, my home, my future. It brings everything but disgrace upon us,Adrea, and even that must touch our name. Even though the living arespared, the memory of the dead must suffer!"

  I felt the tears flowing down my cheeks, but I dashed them away. "I donot understand. I----"

  "Of course not! and I cannot explain. Yet it is simple! I have anelder brother, of whom I never heard, to whom everything belongs. I amgoing to find him!"

  "Where is he?" I cried. He shook his head. "That I cannot tell. FatherAdrian knows, but he will not speak. I am going in search of himmyself. I am going to Cruta!"

  To Cruta! The name rang in my ears, and earth and trees and sky seemedreeling before me. Then I clutched him by the arm, and cried outhysterically,--

  "You shall not go there! The place is horrible! You shall not go!"

  He stood still, and looked at me in wonderment. We had crossed thepark now, and were on the edge of the bare moorland. His figure alonestood out in solitary relief against the sky. I was half mad with fearand dismay. He did not understand. How could he?

  "It is at Cruta that I can learn all that there still is for me tolearn," he said. "I shall start for there to-night."

  Oh! it was horrible! What could I say? How was I to stop him? How muchdare I tell? I caught hold of his hands, and held them tightly.

  "Paul, I want to ask you something! When you heard from the conventthat relations had claimed me and taken me away, and then, a yearafterwards, you found me there--in London--a dancing girl, what didyou think?"

  He answered me at once and without hesitation. "I thought that you hadmisled the Lady Superior,--that you were weary of your life there, andhad run away."

  I shook my head. "I knew that you thought so and I never denied it.But it was not so! I was not unhappy at the convent, but one day I wassent for and bidden prepare for a journey. Some relatives had sent forme, and I was to go. And to where? It was to Cruta! Paul, it was oldCount of Cruta who claimed me. I cannot tell you anything of the timeI spent there, shut up in the gloomy castle; it was horrible beyondall words. Even the memory of it makes me shudder. If only I couldtell you! But I must not! I can tell you this, though. In less thansix months I felt myself going mad; and one night I stole down to thebeach and unfastened a small boat and rowed away, scarcely caring whathappened to me so that I could but escape from that awful place.It was a desperate chance. I was o
ut all day without food or water,rowing and drifting until Cruta lay like a speck in the distance. Thenby chance I was picked up by an English yacht, and they brought me toLondon. I arrived there helpless and miserable, and, ah! how lonely!I dared not go back to the convent for fear I should be sent back toCruta. There was only you. I went to your bankers, and they told methat you were abroad--on the Continent. By chance they asked me theremy name, and by chance again I told them it truthfully. They told methat they had money for me there. I had only to sign a receipt, andthey gave me more than I asked for--ten times more. Then I rememberedthe address of an English girl who had been at the convent with me,and she gave me a home for a time. It was through her dancing mistressthat I became--a dancing girl. I have told you this, Paul, because Iwant you to promise me not to go to Cruta. It is an evil place. Theyare mad there. Promise me!"

  He looked at me gravely and very tenderly; but his tone was firm."Adrea, it is necessary that I go there," he said. "I cannot rest fora moment until I know for certain whether a story which I have justbeen told is a true one. The proof lies in Cruta! It is no whim whichis taking me there! I must go!"

  My heart was sick with dread. Yet what could I do? I said nothing;only I covered my face with my hands and wept.

  "Adrea, you are a foolish child!" he said, bending over me. "What isthere for me to fear at Cruta? Look up and tell me!"

  I shook my head. "You would not heed me," I answered sadly. "I darenot tell you. But there is one thing," I added hastily. "Will you doit for me simply because I ask you?"

  "If it be possible, yes!"

  I stood still on a little hillock, and faced him eagerly. "Then do notgo to Cruta until to-morrow!" I begged. "It will make no difference toyou."

  "And what difference will it make to you, he asked, perplexed.

  "Never mind! promise!" He hesitated for a moment, with a frown on hisforehead, and his face turned seaward.

  "Well! I will promise then!"

  I caught hold of his hand, and held it tightly. "You are very good tome!" I said. "_Allons!_ let us move onward!"

  We had reached the Hermitage, and I had spoken scarcely a single wordof comfort. An icy coldness seemed to have stolen into my heart. Ihad ceased to think of Paul, or of my love. There was something else;another passion which made me blind. Yet I let him come in with me,and yielded myself up for a while to the dream of loving and beingloved by him. While I lay in his arms, with my head upon his shoulder,and every now and then felt his light, caressing touch upon myface,--why then, the world for me was bounded by that little room, andI had no thoughts which travelled outside it. But it lasted only whilehe was with me. When he stood up, and said that he must go, I did notseek to keep him.

  "Shall I come again?" he asked, as we stood hand in hand before thedoor.

  I shook my head. "Not to-night love! I shall be better alone. I amweary, and I have my things to collect."

  I knew he would be surprised. He withdrew his hand, and manlike, wasalmost angry. "I forgot. You will leave here, I suppose!"

  I shrugged my shoulders. "What should keep me, Paul? I could not livehere alone. Every stone and tree would be full of barren memories. No!to-morrow I go to London. I have sent all the servants away to-day,except Gomez. You will be with me early!"

  "I will be outside your window before you are up!" he promised with atouch of gaiety in his tone. "See that Gomez has breakfast for two!"

  He passed down the avenue, and out of sight. I closed the door witha little shudder and turned round. Gomez was by my side. Through thegloom I could see that his dark eyes were full of fire, and his olivefeatures were set and grim.

  "What do you want Gomez?" I asked quickly.

  He drew close to my side. "The priest," he muttered, "has he--has hedared----"

  His breath was coming quickly. He spoke English but slightly, and inthe excitement the words seemed to stick in his throat.

  I interrupted him. "He has told Mr. de Vaux some strange, horriblestory. What do you know of it?"

  "All! All! All! I was there--in the chamber! My master's words tohim--I heard them all. He has told, then! He has threatened! Oh! ifonly I had known when he was here!"

  The man's fierce face and gesture told their own tale. I beckonedhim to follow me into the room where Paul and I had been sitting, andclosed the door.

  "You were Martin de Vaux's faithful servant," I said. "Do you want tosee his son driven from his home and robbed of his lands?"

  The man moved his lips, making a curious sound, and drew a long,gurgling breath. He was shaking with excitement.

  "Who should do it?"

  "The priest!" I answered softly.

  "Because of the words, the story of which my master spoke to him athis death in the monastery?"

  "Yes! because of that."

  "Ah!" He stole up to my side with a noiseless, animal movement, andwhispered in my ear. His eyes were burning; his face was full of evilmeaning. Yet I did not shrink from him. I welcomed him with a smile.He whispered into my ear. It was like the hiss of a snake; but Ismiled. I whispered back again. He nodded. Ah! the way before me wasgrowing clear at last. Was it not fate that had brought Gomez ready tomy hand? Ay! fate! A good fate! A kind fate! We stood close togetherin that dimly lit room; and though we were alone in the house, wespoke in whispers to one another. When I moved to the door, Gomezfollowed me.

  I came down in ten minutes, clad in a long, dark cloak, with a smallhat and a thick veil. I took a stick from the rack, and there wassomething else in my deep pocket.

  "Alone!" he whispered, as I moved towards the door.

  "Alone!" I answered. "Make a good fire in the drawing-room, and letthere be food and wine there."

  "For two?" he asked with an evil smile.

  "For two!"