A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3)

  XXIII.

  It was not till at least an hour afterwards that I remembered thepromise I had given to Emilius. Carew still slept, and had not stirredfrom the position in which I had found him. Two or three times I madea gentle effort to remove from beneath his hand the papers I had foundin the secret drawer, but as my design could not be accomplishedwithout violence, I abandoned it. There was no doubt in my mind thathe had read them, and his tenacious hold upon them denoted that he hadformed some strong resolution with respect to them. With the intentionof fulfilling my promise to Emilius, I softly left the room.

  Mrs. Carew, sitting in a room above with Mildred, heard my movements,and swiftly and noiselessly glided down the stairs. In a low tone Imade her acquainted with what had passed between me and Emilius, and Iperceived that she was not unprepared for Emilius's demand for aninterview. When I repeated to her Emilius's 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," she clasped her hands across her eyes, andremained so for a little while.

  "It is his due," she said, but though she strove to speak calmly shecould not control her trembling voice and quivering lips; "I must seehim."

  "When?" I asked.

  "I cannot at this moment decide," she replied. "I must have time toreflect. Meanwhile, there lies our first care."

  She pointed to the study in which her husband slept.

  "You understand that he is determined to see you before another dayand night have passed?"

  "Yes, I understand."

  "How is Mildred?"

  "Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me.She suspects nothing."

  "It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough."

  "Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in hervoice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we butknew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavypunishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was actingright. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes."

  She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered thestudy. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon withoutobserving any change in him. In addition to my position being one ofembarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion.I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night.Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but itwas too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fellasleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before Iawoke.

  Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes.

  "I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughlyexhausted."

  "I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt atlightness. "Have you been awake long?"

  "For some hours," he replied.

  I glanced at the table; the papers were still there; his eyes followedthe direction of mine, and he nodded gently.

  "Have you remained with me the whole time?" I asked.

  "Oh, no. I left the room two or three times. My wife looked inoccasionally to see if you still slept." He motioned with his hand toa corner of the table, and I saw bread, and meat, and wine there."Eat," he said; "you must be hungry."

  I was glad of the food, and the wine gave me strength. Carew himselfdrank two glasses.

  "We are but poor, gross creatures," he said, "dependent upon a crumbof bread for the life we think so wonderful. Is the scheme whichcreated it monstrous or beneficent? Is it the work of an angel or adevil? Have you finished?"

  "Yes."

  "Something is necessary between you and me, something which must notremain unspoken. The time for concealments, evasions, self-delusions,torturing doubts (now cleared up, fatally), is at an end."

  "One question first," I said, thinking of Emilius; "has Mrs. Carewleft the house during the time I have slept?"

  "No; I forbade her. I have still for some few hours a will of my own."He touched the papers written by his father. "After I left you hereyesterday, you discovered these?"

  "I discovered them before you gave me the record of your life toread."

  "You have read it?"

  "Every word."

  "Had my father's record been discovered when I was a young man, had hedealt by me justly instead of mercifully, what evil might have beenaverted! I have no intention of wasting time by idle words, by vainregrets. I have fixed my course. I seek some enlightenment from you.Tell me all that passed within your knowledge since I spoke to youlast night at the door of this room. Keep nothing from me. Absolutefrankness is due from you to me, and I claim it. Believe me, I amanimated by but one supreme desire--a desire for justice. All lightersentiments are dead within me, except pity for the lady who has themisfortune to be my wife. I loved her with a very pure and completelove. I dare not wrong her by saying I love her still--and yet, andyet--You see, I am still human; that is the worst of it. Tell me all."

  I did so, concealing nothing, softening nothing. I faithfully,mercilessly described the events of the night that had passed--hisleaving the house, his wife's entreaties that I should follow him toprevent the committal of a dreadful deed, my doing so, his movementsin his search through the grounds dagger in hand, the strangeintelligence which, asleep as he was, directed those movements,fortunately unsuccessful, his return to the house, locking me out, mydiscovery and interview with Emilius, and finally my entrance into thestudy, where he sat asleep, his hand firmly guarding the papers I hadfound in the secret drawer.

  He listened quietly and attentively, and did not interrupt me by aword. It was with a feeling of apprehension that I approachedEmilius's description of his dream, in which had been pictured themurder of Eric, but no outward sign was visible in Carew to denoteagitation. The only question he asked was with reference to Emilius'sdesire for an interview with Mrs. Carew. Could I discover a reason forit? I answered that I could not, but that there must be some powerfulreason that Emilius, free from prison, should journey to England forthe special purpose of the interview.

  "I have no remembrance of leaving the house last night," said Carew,"and upon other evidence than that which is furnished to me, shouldscout the tale as a monstrous invention. But it is not for me todoubt. I was born into a fatal inheritance, and I must suffer for it."

  "How?" I cried. "The past is past; there is no undoing it. If youthink of invoking the law, you may banish the idea; it cannot touchyou."

  "From the hour that I read my father's confession," said Carew, "Ibecame a law unto myself. I will not pain you by asking whether youbelieve me guilty or no; you cannot do otherwise than look upon me asa monster, as I look upon myself. The law cannot touch me, I believe;and well do I know that not only what has been done cannot be undone,but that it cannot be atoned for. But the future must be secured. Myfather wrote that the one consolation he had was that he endeavouredto perform his duty. He did not so endeavour. His duty was toenlighten me, an innocent being while my parents lived, as to thenature of the inheritance transmitted to me. Then I might have donewhat it is incumbent upon me to do now. At least, if I had not thecourage for that, I should not have cast a blight upon the life of apure and white-souled lady. You are an authority upon the disease ofinsanity, and the different forms in which it presents itself in humanbeings; and you must be aware that it would be a difficult task tofind doctors who would declare me to be mad. Setting aside thesufferings of regret, my mind is as clear and logical as your own orany man's. My reason--is it crooked, warped? No, it is clear as alake, and I can see straight on to the end. In my sleep I am anotherbeing. Granted. But what crime can human evidence bring home to mydoor? None. What guilt is mine, others have suffered for, and the lawis satisfied that it did not stumble. Emilius can come forward andsay, 'That monster killed my brother.' They will ask for evidence, andhe will relate a dream. 'You are a madman,' they will declare. You sawme last night prowling r
ound my house in search of whom? In search ofan enemy who long years ago was my enemy, and who, having endured thepunishment inflicted by the law for a crime which he was proved tohave committed, comes now to England to injure and rob me. Sosensitive am I respecting the safety of my wife and daughter that evenin my sleep I protect them. A subject I for admiration. No hand, novoice, would be raised in horror against me; I should be lauded,praised, set up as an example, while Emilius would be regarded withloathing. Yet he is a martyr, and I am a devil. Who is to punish me?Are there other men as I am? If so, there should be a law to destroythem while they are young, before they are ripe for mischief. It wouldbe a simple safeguard."

  As he had sat in silence listening to me, so now I sat in silencelistening to him. There was not a trace of passion in his voice; itwas calm and judicial. Even when he called himself a devil there wasno deviation from this aspect of absolute composure.

  "What wrote my father?" he continued. "What wrote he--too late?' Imost solemnly adjure him never to marry, never to link his life withthat of an innocent being. If his heart is moved to love he must pluckthe sentiment out by the roots, must fly from it as from a horrorwhich blenches the cheek to contemplate. Our race must die with him;not one must live after him to perpetuate it. I lay this injunctionmost solemnly upon him; if he violate it, he will be an incrediblemonster.'" In making this quotation he did not refer to the writtenpages; word for word, he repeated it by heart. It was a proof howdeeply upon his mind and heart were graven his father's fatalconfession.

  "Thus said my father, but he said it not in time. He failed in hisduty, and led me into worse than error. Well do I now understand themystery of my early home, of my boyhood's life. Why did he not killme? God and man would have applauded the deed."

  Had it not been that he paused here, as though he had finished what hehad to say, I doubt whether I should have spoken, so overwhelmed was Iby this merciless self-analysis and self-condemnation. But the silenceenabled me to recover myself, to think of other matters than himself.

  "You told me," I said, "that you forbade your wife to leave the house.Then she has not seen Emilius?"

  "No. She will see him to-morrow."

  "He says he must see her this day or night. He expects me to acquainthim with the result of his message to Mrs. Carew."

  "Go to him and implore him to leave it till to-morrow. Then there willbe no difficulty. It is but a few hours--and he has waited so manyyears. His mission cannot be so urgent."

  "He declares it is."

  "He is possessed by a just fury. It is his intention, I suppose, todenounce me to my wife. The one joy in life that remains to him is thejoy of making the woman who loved me shrink from me as from apestilence. That joy shall be his--to-morrow; and it then he is notcontent, I will submit myself to him as he shall dictate. You canassure him of my honesty in this."

  "You forget," I urged. "He desired me to tell your wife that hiserrand was not one of revenge."

  "He is justified in using any subterfuge to obtain an interview withher. If she had reason to believe that he came to injure me she wouldnot see him. Go to him, and tell him to-morrow. Tell him also that Ihave pronounced judgment upon myself."

  I had no choice but to comply. He spoke with a force and a decisionthere was no gainsaying.