The Master of the Ceremonies
whisper that was terrible inits intensity. "No: you are no son of mine. Hypocrite, villain--howdare you come here to insult me in my misery?"
"Insult you, father!" said Fred softly. "No, no, you do not know me.You do not understand what brings me here."
"Not know?--not understand?" panted Denville, still in the same hoarsewhisper, as if he dreaded to be heard. "I tell you I know all--I sawall. It was what I might have expected from your career."
"Father!"
"Silence, dog! Oh, that I had strength! I feel that as I gave you thelife you dishonour, I should be doing a duty to take you by the throat,and crush it out from such a wretch."
"He's mad," thought the young man as he gazed on the wild distortedface.
"You thought that you were unseen--that your crime was known but toyourself; but such things cannot be hidden, such horrors are certain tobe known. And now, wretch, hypocrite, coward, you have brought me tothis, and you come with your pitiful canting words to ask me forpardon--me, the miserable old man whom you have dragged down even tothis--a felon's cell from which I must go to the scaffold."
"No--no, father," panted Fred. "Don't--for God's sake, don't talk likethis. I've been a great blackguard--a bad son; but surely you mightforgive me--your own flesh and blood, when I come to you on my knees, insorrow and repentance, to ask forgiveness, and to say let me try andhelp you in your distress. Come, father--my dear old father--give meyour hand once more. Let the past be dead, for Claire's sake, I askyou. I am her brother--your boy."
"Silence! Wretch!" cried the old man. "Leave this place. Let me atleast die in peace, and not be defiled by the presence of such aloathsome, cowardly thing as you."
"And you," said Fred softly, as he held out his hands; "you, I canremember it well, used to hold these hands together, father, and teachme to say, `Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespassagainst us.' Father, have I sinned so deeply as all this?"
"Sinned!" cried the old man starting forward, and catching his son bythe throat. "Sinned? Blasphemer! coward! hypocrite! You dare to saythis to me! Go, before I try to strangle you, for I cannot containmyself when you are here."
"Father!" cried Fred, kneeling unresisting as the old man clasped himtightly by the throat, "are you mad?"
"Would to God I were before I had lived to see this day," criedDenville, still in the same hoarse whisper. "But go--I have done illenough in my wretched life without adding murder to the wrong. Go, andcoward that you are, escape to some far-off land where your crime is notknown, and there try and repent, if you can. No, there can be norepentance for the coward who destroys one wretched, helpless life, andthen to save his own worthless body--he can have no soul--sends hispoor, worn-out, broken father to the scaffold."
Fred did not move, but gazed pityingly in his father's face.
"You cannot be a man," continued Denville, "a man as other men. You donot speak--you do not speak. Fool! Murderer! Do you think that yourcrime was not known?"
Fred still remained silent, gazing in the convulsed face, with the veinsin the temples throbbing, the eyes glaring wildly, and the grey hairsseeming to rise and move.
"Speak, since you have forced it upon me, though I would have gone tothe scaffold without a word, praying that my sacrifice might expiate myown child's crime. Speak, I say: do you still think it was not known?"
Fred Denville remained upon his knees, but neither spoke nor resisted.
"I tell you that when I awoke to the horrors of that night, I said tomyself, `He is my own son--my own flesh and blood--I cannot speak. Iwill not speak. I will bear it.' And I have borne it--in silence.Wretch that you are--listen. I have, to screen you, borne all with mylips sealed, and let that sweet, pure-hearted girl shrink from me,believing--God help me!--that mine was the hand that crushed out yonpoor old creature's life."
"Father, you are raving," cried Fred hoarsely.
"Raving! It is true. Claire, my own darling, has gone, too, withsealed lips, loathing me, and only out of pity and belief in her duty asa child borne with my presence--poor sweet suffering saint--believing mea murderer, and I dare not tell her I was innocent, and that it was thebrother she loved, who had come in the night, serpent-like, to the roomhe knew so well, to murder, and to steal those wretched bits ofglittering glass."
"My dear father!"
"Silence, wretch!" cried Denville. "I tell you, knowing all, I saidthat I could not speak, for I was only a broken old man, and that my sonmight repent; that I could not condemn him and be his judge. And, myGod! it has come to this! I have borne all. I have suffered maddeningagony as I have seen the loathing in my poor child's eyes. I have borneall uncomplaining, and when, as I dreaded, the exposure came, Iunmurmuringly suffered myself to be taken, and I will go to the scaffoldand die, a victim--an innocent victim for you, so that you may live; butlet me die in peace. Free me from your presence, and I will wait till,in a better world, my darling can come and say, `Forgive me, father; Iwas blind.'"
"Heaven help me! What shall I say?" muttered Fred. "Poor old fellow!It has turned his brain."
The old man was in the act of throwing him off and shrinking from himwhen Fred caught his hands.
"My dear old father," he said tenderly, "neither Claire nor I believethat you could commit this terrible crime. You must be cleared from allsuspicion, and--come--come--let us be friends. You will forgive me,father--all the past?"
"Forgive you? No, I cannot. It is impossible. I have tried. Sittinghere alone in this awful silence, with the shadow of the gallows fallingacross me, I have tried, but it is impossible. I will suffer for yourcrime. I have told you that I will, but upon one condition, that younever go near Claire again. She thinks me guilty, but she has foughthard and striven to forgive me. Do not pollute her with your presence,but go far away from here. Go at once, lest in the weakness of mynature I should be tempted to try and save myself from death byconfessing all."
"Heaven help me!" said Fred again; "he is mad."
He had spoken aloud, shaping his thoughts unconsciously, and the old mantook up his words.
"God help me! I wish I were," he said pitifully, "for the mad must befree from the agony which I have to bear."
Fred rose to his feet and looked at the old man aghast. Then, as if forthe first time, he seemed to realise that his father was not wanderingin his mind, and clasping the thin arms tightly, he pressed him backinto a sitting position upon the bed, bending over him, and, in hisgreat strength, holding him helplessly there, as he said quickly, andwith a fierce ring in his voice:
"Why, father, do you know what you are saying? You do not think Ikilled Lady Teigne?"
"Hypocrite!" cried the old man fiercely.
"Speak out, man!" cried Fred, as fiercely now. "What do you mean? Howdare you charge me with such a crime!"
"Hypocrite!" panted the old man again. "You cannot shield yourself now.It is a punishment for my weakness that day--that night. I would nothave done it," he cried wildly, "but I was at my last gasp for money.Everything was against me. I had not a shilling, and there all that daythe devil was dancing the jewels of that miserable old woman before myeyes."
"Father!" cried Fred, "for God's sake, don't tell me you killed her--forGod's sake don't. No, no; it is not true."
"Silence! hypocrite! murderer!" cried the old man. "Listen. I tell youthat all that day the devil was dancing those diamonds before my eyes.I saw them in the glittering waters of the sea. I turned to Claire, andher eyes shone like diamonds. The night came, and the sky was allstudded with gems, and they were sparkling and reflected in the water.Diamonds--always diamonds; and above stairs, in that room, a casket withnecklet and bracelets, all diamonds, and the devil always whispering inmy ear that I had but to get two or three taken out and replaced withpaste, while I pledged the real stones for a few months, and redeemedthem as soon as I could turn myself round. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you," said Fred, with a strange look of horror intensifyingin hi
s face.
"I fought against the temptation. I struggled with it, as I said that Ihad always been a weak, foolish fashion-seeker, but an honest gentleman.I swore that I would not defile myself by such a crime; but there weremy bills; there was the demand for money for a score of pressingnecessities, and the fiend whispered to me that it would not be a crime,only taking them from that miserable old worldly creature as a loan."
"Go on," said Fred hoarsely; "go on." And he stared with horror in theold man's upturned face.
"Then the night