XXII.
Despite his rags and haggard appearance, his manner was defiant. Hehad been twenty years in prison, but he had not lost his sense ofself-respect; degraded association had not stamped out his manliness.He bore about him the signs of great suffering--of unmeritedsuffering, as I knew while gazing upon him for the first time, but ithad not turned him into a savage, as has been the case with other menwho have been wrongly judged. Through the rough crust of habitsforeign to his nature which a long term of imprisonment had laid uponhim, I discerned an underlying dignity and nobility which bespoke himgentleman. I discerned also in him the evidence of a tenacious purposefrom which death alone could turn him. That purpose had brought him toRosemullion, and, connected as I was with Gabriel Carew and hisfamily, it was necessary that I should learn its nature.
"Do you accost me," asked Emilius, "as friend or enemy?"
"As friend," I replied. "I ask you to believe me upon my honour, fromgentleman to gentleman."
His face flushed, and he looked searchingly at me to ascertain if Iwas mocking him.
"When I saw you," said Emilius, "standing apart from that fiend inhuman form, and saw him watching here by the copse in which I layconcealed, I supposed you were both in league against me."
"I at least am guiltless of enmity towards you," I said. "It is trulymy wish to serve you if you will show me the way and I deem it right."
"What I have suffered," he said with a pitiful smile, "has notembittered me against all the world. It would not ill become me todisbelieve the protestations of a stranger, but I prefer the weakercourse. I have only two things to fear--irredeemable poverty, fromwhich I could not extricate myself--(I am not far from that pass atthe present, but I have still sufficient for two months' drybread)--and death before I achieve my purpose. May God so deal withyou as you deal honestly by me. I have not lost all comprehension ofhuman signs, and there is that in you which denotes a wish to know meand perhaps to win my confidence. Sorely do I need a friend, a helpinghand; and like a drowning man I clutch at the first that offersitself. Yet bitter as is my need, I ask you to turn from me at once ifyour intentions are not honest."
"I will stay and prove myself," I said.
"Why have you remained out in the open," asked Emilius, "while thatmonster, who for a brief space has put aside his murderous intent, hasre-entered his house?"
"It was an accident, and may be providential. At first I deplored it,but now am thankful for it. I am thankful, too, that you made nomovement while Mr. Carew was standing on this spot."
"I am no coward," said Emilius with pride, "and yet I was afraid. As Ihave told you, I do not want to die--just yet. He was armed; I amwithout a weapon. But had it been otherwise I should not have risked aconflict with him; my life is for a little while too precious to me.My liberty, also, which he, a gentleman, against me, a vagrant, mightwith little difficulty swear away. He has done worse than that withoutscruple. Therefore, it behoved me to be wary. Were my errand here anerrand of revenge I should have a score, a terrible score, to settlewith him; but there is something of even greater weight to beaccomplished. I have said that I will trust you; in prison my word wasrelied on, and it may be relied on here. It is not in doubt of you Iask why the fiend who inhabits that house and you came out in concertat such an hour?"
"We did not come out in concert," I replied. "Mr. Carew did not seeme; he was not aware of my presence."
Emilius gazed upon me in wonder. "I am to believe this?"
"It is the truth, I swear. I have no object in deceiving you. Yet itwould be strange if you did not doubt and wonder. For the present letthe matter bide; you have much to learn which may temper yourjudgment."
"A foul wrong can never be righted," responded Emilius. "The deadcannot be brought to life. If you expect my judgment of that fiendever to be softened, you expect a miracle. What is the nature of yourconnection with him? Pardon me for asking questions; I will answeryours freely."
"An angel lives in that house," I said, "and I am bound to her by tiesof affection and devotion, inspired by her sweet nature and spotlesspurity."
"Lauretta!" he murmured. "She loved me once as a sister might love abrother, and I loved her in like manner. She was the incarnation ofinnocence and goodness."
"And is so still. She whom you once loved as a sister claims now yourpity. Find room in your heart for something better than revenge."
"You misjudge me," he said softly; "it is love, not revenge, thatbrought me here. But you have not completed your explanation."
"I have an only child," I said; "a son, grown to man's estate. Lovegrew between him and Mrs. Carew's daughter----"
"Stop!" he cried, in a suffocated voice. "I cannot, cannot bear it!"
He leant against a tree for support; his form was convulsed with heavysobs. His profound grief astonished me; I could find no clue for it. Iturned aside until he was master of himself again, and then he resumedthe conversation.
"You seem to know the story of my life."
"I am acquainted with it."
"You know that I was tried for the murder of my brother?"
"Yes."
"There are moments in life when to lie will damn a man's soul andcondemn it to eternal perdition! This in my life is such a moment. Icall Heaven to witness my innocence! Now and hereafter may I becursed, now and for ever may the love for which I yearn be torn fromme, may I never meet my wife in heaven, if I do not stand before youan innocent man! I was condemned for another's crime. The murdererlives there." He pointed to the house, and continued: "My brother wasnot the only one who died by his hand. In the happy village of Nerac,whither a relentless fate directed that monster's steps, another manwas murdered before my beloved Eric fell. This man's comrade sufferedthe penalty--while he, the murderer, looked on and smiled. I do notquestion the goodness and mercy of God; for some unknown reason theseatrocities have been allowed, and no thunderbolt has fallen to smitethe guilty. Had I been other than I am I should have turnedblasphemer, and raised my impious voice against my Creator. As it is,I have suffered and borne my sufferings, not like a beast, but like aman. You hint at some mystery in connection with that monster which Icannot fathom. Time is too precious for me to waste it by groping inthe dark. I will wait patiently for enlightenment. Heaven knows I, ofall men living, should lend a ready ear to howsoever strange a tale,for I am associated, through my father and his brother, with a mysterywhich the majority of men would reject as incredible. This extendseven to my statement that I have sure evidence of that monster'sguilt, although I did not see the deed perpetrated. You may enter intomy feelings when I tell you that the first few weeks of myimprisonment were weeks of the most awful torture to me. I wept. Icould not sleep, my heart was torn with unspeakable anguish. Nightafter night in my lonely cell I passed the hours praying to mymurdered brother, and calling upon him to give me a sign. My prayerwas answered on the anniversary of our birthday. Eric and I, as Iassume you know, were twins, as were my father Silvain and his brotherKristel. Between them existed a mysterious bond of sympathy. So wasit, in a lesser degree, between Eric and me. On that birthdayanniversary, spent in prison, peace for the first time fell upon mysoul, and I slept. In my dreams my brother appeared to me; he did notspeak to me; but I saw the enactment of his murder. I had left him inthe forest to join my wife. He was alone. He paced to and fro in deepanguish. Tears streamed from his eyes; his heart was wracked with woe.In this state he continued for a space of time which I judged to benot less than an hour. Then gradually he became more composed, and heknelt and prayed, with his face buried in his hands. Stealing towardshim stealthily, holding a knife, as to-night he held a dagger, Ibeheld the monster, Gabriel Carew. I saw him plainly; the moon shoneupon his face, and though he walked like a man in sleep, his fellintent was visible in his eyes. I tried to scream to warn my brother,but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not utter asound. Nearer and nearer crept the monster--nearer and nearer,noiselessly, noiselessly! Not a leaf cracke
d beneath his feet; allnature seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb in horror of the deed aboutto be done. To my agonised senses seconds were minutes, minutes hours,until the monster stood above the kneeling form of my beloved Eric. Heraised the knife--the blade was touched with light; for a moment hepaused to make his aim surer, the stroke more certain. With cruel,devilish force the knife descended, and was plunged through my Eric'sback, straight into his heart. He uttered no cry, but straightway, asthe knife was plucked from him, fell forward on his face. My brotherwas dead! Slowly, stealthily, warily, the murderer stole through thewoods, casting no look behind. A darkness rushed upon me, and my dreamwas at an end. When I awoke I knew that I had witnessed a faithfulpresentment of the scene, and it would need something more powerfulthan human arguments to convince me that I was the victim of adelusion. The natural sentiment which from that night forth might besupposed to animate me was that I might live to revenge myself uponthe murderer. It was not so with me. I lived, and live, for anotherpurpose, with another end in view. Not for me to shed blood, and tostain my soul with sin and crime. I leave my cause to heaven. Havingheard thus much, will you aid me, will you serve me, as you havepromised?"
"I will do my best, if my judgment approves."
"The end is just, and I cannot endure long delay. I must see Mrs.Carew--_must!_ There is a matter between us which must be cleared upbefore another day and night have passed. Tell her that my errand isnot one of revenge. Not a word of reproach shall she hear from mylips. I am here to claim what is mine--my inalienable right! She willunderstand if you represent it to her in my words. Tell her she hasnothing to fear from me, and that the faith I have in her will notallow me to believe that she will conspire to rob my life of the onejoy it contains for me. Will you do this?"
"I will do what you desire, in the way you desire."
"I thank you," he said, and the courteous grateful motion of his headbespoke the gentleman.
"How shall I find you," I asked, "if I wish to see you to-morrow?"
"Leave that to me," was his reply. "I shall be on the watch--and on myguard. Good-night."
"Good-night," I said, and I offered him my hand. He touched it withhis, and saying again, "I thank you," left me to myself.
I remained in the grounds until the servants--who were early risers--unfastened the front door. Then I entered the house, and made my wayto the study. As I reached the door Mrs. Carew came out of her room tomeet me. She placed her finger to her lips, and whispered,
"My husband is there."
"Your husband!" I exclaimed in consternation, forgetting Emilius,forgetting everything except the papers I had found in the secretdrawer, and which I had left loose upon the writing-table.
"Yes," said Mrs. Carew. "When he came in alone he had to pass thestudy on his way to our room. The door was open, and he went in. I didnot dare to disturb him. All is so still within that I think he isasleep. Tell me, dear friend--has anything happened outside?"
"Nothing of the nature you dread," I replied.
"Thank you," she murmured.
I opened the study door and entered, and sitting at the writing-table,with his hand upon the revelation made by his father, was GabrielCarew, in a profound slumber.
"He has slept thus frequently," whispered Mrs. Carew, who had followedme into the room, "until late in the day."
"Leave us together," I said.
She obeyed me, and I stood by Carew's side and gazed at him and thepapers. There was deep suffering on his face, strangely contrastedwith an expression of resolution and content. What this portended Ihad yet to learn.