Mr. Marx's Secret

  CHAPTER VII. A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.

  That it was my mother I could not at first believe. She wore a plain darkdress, with a black lace kerchief about her neck; but a dress, simplethough it was, of a style and material unlike any that I had ever beforeseen her wear. Although I knew nothing of her history, I had alwayssuspected that she was of a very different station from my father's, andat that moment I knew it, for it seemed as though she had, of a sudden,made up her mind to assume her proper position. Not only were her dressand the fashion of arranging her hair unusual, but her manners, hervoice, her whole bearing and appearance were utterly changed. It was asthough she had, without the slightest warning, dropped the mask of longyears, and stepped back, like a flash, into the personality whichbelonged to her.

  Nor was this the only change. A slight pink flush had chased the leadenpallor from her cheeks, and her eyes, which had of late seemed dull andheavy, were full of sparkling light and suppressed animation. Hermanners, as well as her personal appearance, all bore witness to somestartling metamorphosis. I was more than astonished; I was thunderstruck.What seemed to me most wonderful was that a visit from the man againstwhom she had so solemnly and passionately cautioned me should thus havegalvanised her into another state of being.

  Mr. Ravenor rose at her entrance and bowed with the easy grace of a manof the world. My mother returned his greeting with a statelyself-possession which matched his own; but it struck me, watching themboth closely, that, while he was perfectly collected, she was in realityfar from being so. I could see the delicate white fingers of her lefthand fold themselves convulsively around the lace handkerchief which shewas carrying, and when she entered a shiver--gone in a moment andperceptible only to me, because my eyes were fastened upon her--shook herslim, lithe figure.

  But in the few commonplace remarks which first passed between them therewas nothing in speech or manner that betrayed the least embarrassment.She answered him as one of his own order, graciously, yet just allowinghim to see that his visit was a surprise to her and that she expected himto declare its purpose. I have dwelt somewhat upon this meeting forreasons which will be sufficiently apparent when I have finished mystory.

  After a few remarks about the farm, the crops, and the favourableweather, he gave the wished-for explanation.

  "I have come to say a few words to you about your son, Mrs. Morton," hebegan abruptly.

  She and I looked equally astonished.

  "I am a man of few words," he continued. "The few which I desire to sayupon this subject had better be said, I think, to you alone, Mrs.Morton."

  I would have left the room at once, but my mother prevented me. She laida trembling hand upon my shoulder, and drew me closer to her.

  "You can have nothing to say to me, Mr. Ravenor, which it would not bebetter for him to hear, especially as you say that it concerns him."

  He shrugged his high, square shoulders, as though indifferent; but Ifancied, nevertheless, that a shade of annoyance lingered in his face fora moment.

  "Very good!" he said shortly. "Rumour may have told you, Mrs. Morton, ifyou ever listen to such things, that I am a very wicked man. Possibly! Idon't deny it! At any rate, I am, by disposition and custom, profoundlyselfish. I owe to your son a luxury--that of having found my thoughtswithdrawn from myself for a few minutes--with me a most rare event.

  "I met him last evening and talked with him. He talked like a fool, it istrue, but that has nothing to do with it. Afterwards I thought of himagain; wondered what you were going to do with him; remembered--pardonme!--that you must be poor; and remembered, also, that you have sufferedthrough a servant of mine."

  He paused. For nearly half a minute they looked one another in theface--my mother and this man. There was something in her rapt, fascinatedgaze, and in the keen, brilliant light which flashed from his dark eyesas he returned it, which seemed strange to me. It was like a challengeoffered and accepted--a duel in which neither was vanquished, for neitherflinched.

  "It occurred to me then," he continued calmly, "to call and ask you whatyou intended doing with him, and to plead, as excuses for the suggestionwhich I am about to make, the reasons which I have just stated. I am arich man, as you know, and the money would be nothing to me. I wish to beallowed to defray the expenses of finishing your son's education."

  It seemed to me a magnificently generous offer, but a very simple one. Icould not understand the agitation and apparent indecision which itcaused my mother. Her prompt refusal I could have understood, although itwould have been a blow to me. But this mixture of horror andconsternation, of emotion and dismay, I could make nothing of. Thefeeling which I had imagined would surely be manifested--gratitude--wasconspicuous by its absence. What did it all mean?

  My mother sat down and Mr. Ravenor leaned back in his armchair,apparently content to wait for her decision. I moved across the room toher side and took her cold fingers into mine.

  "Mother," I cried, with glowing cheeks and voice trembling witheagerness, "what is the matter? Why do you not say 'yes'? You know how Ihave wanted to go to college! There is no reason why you should notconsent, is there?"

  Mr. Ravenor smiled--a very slight movement of the lips.

  "If your mother considers your interests at all," he said calmly, "shewill certainly consent."

  I was about to speak, but my mother looked up and I checked the words onmy lips.

  "Mr. Ravenor," she said quietly, "I accept your offer and I thank you forit. That is all I can say."

  "Quite enough," he remarked nonchalantly.

  "But there is one thing I should like you to understand," she added,looking up at him. "I consent, it is true; but, had it not been foranother reason, far more powerful with me than any you have urged, Inever should have done so. It is a reason which you do not know of--andwhich I pray that you never may know of," she added, in a lower key.

  He made no answer; indeed, he seemed little interested in my mother'swords. He turned, instead, to me and read in my face all the enthusiasmwhich hers lacked. I would have spoken, but he held up his hand andchecked me.

  "Only on one condition," he said coldly. "No thanks. I hate them! What Ido for you I do to please myself. The money which it will cost me is nomore than I have thrown away many times on the idlest passing pleasure. Ihave simply chosen to gratify a whim, and it happens that you are thegainer. Remember that you can best show your gratitude by silence."

  His words fell like drops of ice upon my impetuosity. I remained silentwithout an effort.

  "From what you said just now," he continued, "I learn that it has beenyour desire to perfect your education in a fashion which you could nothave done here. Have you any distinct aims? I mean, have you any definiteideas as to the future?"

  I shook my head.

  "I never dared to encourage any," I answered, truthfully enough. "I knewthat we were poor and that I should have to think about earning my livingsoon--probably as a schoolmaster."

  "You mean to say, then, that you have never had any distinctambitions--everything has been vague?"

  "Except one thing," I answered slowly. "There is one thing which I havealways set before me to accomplish some day, but it is scarcely anambition and it has nothing to do with a career."

  "Tell it to me!" he commanded.

  I did so, without hesitation, looking him full in the face withheightened colour, but speaking with all the determination which I feltin my heart.

  "I have made up my mind that some day I will find the man Francis--theman who murdered my father!"

  He was silent. I could almost have fancied that he was in some measuremoved by my words, and the refined beauty of his dark face was heightenedfor a moment by the strange, sad look which flashed across it. Then herose and took up his riding-whip from the table.

  "A boyish enthusiasm," he remarked contemptuously, as he made his waytowards the door. "Where the cleverest detectives in England have failed,you hope to succeed. Well, I wish you
success. The rascal deserves toswing, certainly. You will hear further from me in a day or two.Good-morning!"

  He left the room abruptly and I followed him, stepping bareheaded outinto the sunshine to look about for Jim, who was leading his horse up anddown the road.

  When I returned, Mr. Ravenor was still standing upon the doorstepwatching me intently.

  "I am going back to speak to your mother for a moment," he said slowly,withdrawing his eyes from my face at last. "No; stop where you are!" headded imperatively. "I wish to speak to her alone."

  I obeyed him and wandered about the orchard until I saw him come out andgallop furiously away across the park. Then I hurried into the house.

  "Mother!" I exclaimed, calling out to her before I had opened the door ofthe parlour--"mother, what do you--"

  I stopped short and hurried to her side, alarmed at her appearance. Hercheeks, even her lips, were ashen pale and her eyes were closed. She hadfainted in her chair.