A Secret Inheritance (Volume 1 of 3)

  CHAPTER X.

  A letter from Emilius! The words seemed to burn themselves on mybrain. The tone in which they were uttered denoted satisfaction. Itwas unreasonable, I knew, to torture myself about such a trifle, butmy love for Lauretta was so absorbing that the least thing wassufficient to prick it into misery. I felt that I might as well bejealous of the air that kissed her cheek as of a man whom I had neverseen, and who had given me absolutely no cause for jealousy. I do notattempt to justify myself; I simply record the fact.

  After reading the letter Doctor Louis put it in his pocket, and to mygreat comfort presently spoke upon the subject that occupied my mind.Had he not done so I should myself have managed to approach it, and inso doing might have betrayed myself, as I feared would be the casewhen Lauretta had mentioned the names of Eric and Emilius. The doctorcommenced by asking whether in any of our conversations he had everreferred to two young friends of his, Eric and Emilius, from one ofwhom he had just received a letter. I answered No, but that onceLauretta had spoken of them in a tone which made me curious aboutthem.

  "They are brothers, I believe," I observed.

  "Yes," said Doctor Louis, "twin brothers, who commenced life with astrange history--which," he added, "somewhat reverses the order ofthings."

  "Are they young?" I asked.

  "Within a year or two of your own age. In all likelihood you and theywill meet. If I thought the story would interest you I would relateit."

  "It would be certain to interest me," I said, with a successfulattempt at calmness, "if only for the reason that Lauretta first spoketo me of the brothers. She said they were handsome, brave, and strong,and that she was sure I should like them."

  "Did she say so much?" said Doctor Louis. "But, after all, that is notstrange, for they and she were playmates together when they were quiteyoung children. It is, however, a long time since they met. Eric andEmilius left Nerac three years ago, for the purpose of travelling andseeing something of the world."

  "Lauretta spoke of them as special friends."

  "Yes, yes; women of her and her mother's stamp are very constant intheir friendships and affections. The esteem of such is worth thewinning; and you, Gabriel, have won it.

  "It has rejoiced me to believe so; it rejoices me still more to hearyou confirm my belief."

  "Let what I tell you of these young men be in confidence between us."

  "It shall be, sir."

  "My wife is familiar with the story, but I doubt whether Lauretta hasever heard it. There is, in truth, a mystery in it."

  "Which will make it all the more interesting."

  "Perhaps, perhaps. There is in the human mind a strange leaningtowards the weird and fantastic."

  Before we returned to Nerac on the evening of this day Doctor Louisfulfilled his promise, and told me the story of these brothers, which,however, so far as they were concerned, proved to be but an epilogueto the play.

  "It will serve our purpose," commenced Doctor Louis, "and will tend tobrevity and simplicity, if in what I am about to narrate I use onlyChristian names. Silvain was the father of Eric and Emilius; andstrangely enough, these young fellows being twins, their father wastwin brother to Kristel. With Silvain I was well acquainted, and whatI learned and knew of him was admirable. Kristel I knew lessintimately, having fewer opportunities. My first meeting with Silvaintook place in England, long before I met my wife. On the continent itis the practice of many fathers to send their sons to foreigncountries for a few years, to see something of other customs thantheir own before they settle down to the serious business of life. Myfather did so by me, and I travelled through most of Europe, andprofited I hope. However that may be, when I was two and twenty yearsof age I found myself in England, and in that wonderland, London. I donot know whether I should have liked to become a resident in thatturbulent city; we grow accustomed to things, and I have grownaccustomed to the quiet peaceful life I am living and have lived formany happy years in our lovely village. It presents itself to me inthe form in which I feel it, as a phase of human happiness which isnot to be excelled. Doubtless it would not do for all to think as Ido; but each man for himself, so long as he is living a life that, toa fair extent, is useful to others.

  "Well do I remember the evening on which I first met Silvain. He wasstanding at the money office of an opera house; between him and themoney-taker some difficulty had arisen with respect to the payment,and Silvain, being but imperfectly acquainted with the language, had adifficulty in understanding and in making himself understood. I putthe matter straight for them, and Silvain and I entered the operahouse together, and sat next to each other during the performance.Being foreigners we naturally conversed, and the foundation of afriendship was laid which was as sincere on his side as it was onmine. We made an appointment to meet on the following day, andthereafter for a long while travelled in company, and were seldomapart. Confidences, of course, were exchanged, and we became familiarwith each other's personal history. Mine was simple, and was soontold; his had an element of strange mystery in it. In the relation ofhis story I noted what was to me very touching and pathetic, and whatto him had been the cause of a great sorrow. He had, as I haveinformed you, a twin brother, Kristel, from whom, until he set out forhis travels, he had never been separated. But their father, for somereason which I failed to discover, and which also was not understoodby Silvain, had resolved that his sons should not travel in company,and had mapped out their separate routes in so cunning a manner that,without violating his instructions, they could not meet. This was aheavy grief to them. Born within a few minutes of each other, they hadlived, as it were, wedded lives; side by side and hand in hand theyhad grown from boyhood to manhood, shared troubles and pleasures, andwere in rare and perfect harmony. When one rejoiced the otherrejoiced, when one was sad the other was sad. The severance of twosuch natures was therefore no common severance, and the scene of theirlast meeting and parting, as described to me by Silvain, must havebeen heartrending.

  "'I felt,' said Silvain, 'as if I had lost the better part ofmyself--nay, as if I had lost my very self. But that I was conscious,and amenable to ordinary human sensations, I should have doubted thatI lived. It is impossible for me to describe my despair; and mybrother suffered as I suffered. I gathered this from his letters, ashe must have gathered the knowledge of my sufferings from mine.Happily we were not debarred from the consolation of correspondingwith each other. Not only routes but dates had been carefully preparedby our father, and I knew from day to day where Kristel was, and wherehe would be to-morrow. One night--I was in Spain at the time--I had avivid dream, in which Kristel played the principal part. It was, asmost dreams are, panoramic, phantasmagoric. There was a lake; upon ita pleasure boat; in the boat six persons, two boatmen, two ladies, andtwo gentlemen. One of the gentlemen was Kristel; the faces of theothers were strange to me. They were laughing and singing andconversing gaily. The sails were set, and the boat was ploughing itsway swiftly onwards. Suddenly the clouds which had been fair, becameovercast; the boatmen were busy with the sails. A lurch, and one ofthe ladies was in the water, struggling for life. Her white arms wereupraised, her face was blanched with terror; in a moment she sank.Then my brother stood upright in the boat, and plunged into the lake.All was confusion. A whirl of clouds, of human faces, of troubledwaters, upon the surface of which Kristel appeared, supporting theinsensible form of the lady. They were pulled into the boat, and mydream ended. I awoke, much agitated, and when the violent beating ofmy heart abated, I wrote an account of my dream, omitting no detail.In my next letter to Kristel, I said nothing of my dream, but on thefifth day I received one from him In which he gave me an account ofthe perilous adventure, his description tallying exactly with all theparticulars of my dream. In this way I discovered that there wasbetween me and Kristel a strange, mysterious link of sympathy, throughwhich each was made acquainted with any danger or peril whichthreatened the other.'"