The Pagan's Cup
by Fergus Hume · English · Gutenberg #34835 · 430,980 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Pagan's Cup
Author: Fergus Hume
Release date: January 4, 2011 [eBook #34835]
Most recently updated: June 28, 2017
Language: English
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[Illustration: Cover]
The Pagan's Cup
BY
Fergus Hume
AUTHOR OF
"THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,"
"THE RAINBOW FEATHER,"
"CLAUDE DUVAL OF NINETY-FIVE,"
ETC.
[Illustration: Vignette]
NEW YORK
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1902, by
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
[All rights reserved]
_The Pagan's Cup_
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. A Modern Arcadia 1
II. The Crusaders' Chapel 14
III. The Lady of the Manor 28
IV. The Dinner-Party 42
V. Love's Young Dream 58
VI. Trouble 71
VII. A Nine Days' Wonder 87
VIII. Haverleigh's Defence 101
IX. A Bad Reputation 113
X. The Price of Silence 126
XI. The London Detective 140
XII. A Surprise 154
XIII. An Interesting Document 168
XIV. An Unexpected Meeting 183
XV. A New Complication 198
XVI. Sybil's Visitor 214
XVII. Lord Kilspindie Explains 227
XVIII. A Miracle 242
XIX. A Story of the Past 257
XX. Mrs Gabriel's Secret 276
THE PAGAN'S CUP
CHAPTER I
A MODERN ARCADIA
Certain portions of England yet remain undiscovered by Americans and
uncivilised by railways. Colester village above King's-meadows, in a
county which need not be named, is one of these unknown spots. No doubt
before long the bicycle and the motor-car will enliven its somnolent
neighbourhood, but at present it is free from the summer jaunts of
tourists. With this neglect the Colester folk profess themselves
satisfied. They have no wish to come into contact with the busy world.
This prejudice against intrusion dates from mediæval times, when
strangers rarely came to the village with peaceful intentions. Even now
a chance comer is looked upon with suspicion.
Mr Richard Pratt said something of this sort to the vicar during a
morning ramble, some six weeks after he had taken up his residence in
The Nun's House. With the parson and the gentry of the parish Mr Pratt
agreed very well, his respectability having been vouched for by Mrs
Gabriel, the lady of the manor. But the villagers still held aloof,
although the newcomer did his best to overcome their churlish doubts.
They did not credit his story that he had settled in Colester to pass
his remaining years in peace, and even the money he scattered so freely
could not buy their loyalty. Pratt had never met with such people
before. In most countries an open purse invites an open heart; but the
Colester villagers were above Mammon worship. Such an experience was
refreshing to Pratt, and introduced him to a new type of humanity.
"The first place I ever struck in which the dollar is not all-powerful,"
he said, with his Yankee twang and pleasant laugh.
"We are not sufficiently educated in that respect," replied Mr Tempest
in his simple way. "For my part, I am not ill pleased that my
parishioners should refuse to worship the Golden Calf."
"There is no calf about me, I guess," said Pratt, grimly, "and very
little gold. I don't say I haven't a decent income, but as to being a
millionaire--no, sir."
"In the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed is king, Mr Pratt. You are a
millionaire in this poor place. But I fear you find it dull."
"Why, no, vicar. I'm glad to be out of the buzz. The world's made up of
nerves and machinery nowadays. At fifty-two years of age I can't stand
the racket. This Sleepy Hollow's good enough for me to stay in until I
peg out. Guess I'll buy an allotment in that graveyard of yours."
"Hollow!" said the vicar, smiling, "and our earthly dwelling-place is
set upon a hill! Mr Pratt, I suspect you have Irish blood in your
veins."
Pratt laughed, and being to a large extent devoid of humour, explained
earnestly that he had used the word figuratively. "Washington Irving,
Rip Van Winkle," he explained, nodding, whereat the vicar smiled again.
The situation of Colester was striking and strange. A green-clothed
promontory extended abruptly from the high table-land into
King's-meadow. To right and left chalky cliffs of considerable height
flared away for miles, forming a buttress to the moors above and walls
to the plains below. In pre-historic ages the ocean waves had beaten
against these cliffs, but, gradually receding, had left dry the miles
upon miles of fertile lands now called King's-meadows. An appanage of
the Crown, they had been called so from the days of William the
Conqueror.
From where they stood, the vicar and his friend had a bird's-eye view of
this desirable land, unrolled like a map under the bright June sky.
League after league of corn-fields stretched away to the clear, shining
line of ocean; and amidst the ripening grain appeared red-roofed
villages, clumps of trees, the straight lines of dusty white roads and
the winding, glittering serpent of the river. And as a background to
this smiling plenty--if so Irish an expression be permitted--was the
blue expanse of the Channel dotted with the white sails of merchantmen.
A small wood of ancient oaks shut off the purple-clad moor from the spur
upon which Colester was built. On the verge of this, yet encircled by
trees, stood the village church--a crusading chapel, dedicated to St
Gabriel the Messenger. Thence the ground fell away gradually, and spread
out into a broad neck of land, down the centre of which ran a road
leading from chapel to village. On either side of this, amidst oaks and
elms and sycamores, were the houses of the gentry. From where they ended
the promontory rose into two rounded hills, with a slight depression
between. On the one to the left the village was built, its houses
cramped within a tumble-down wall, dating from the days when it was
needed as a defence. The other hill was surmounted by a well-preserved
castle, the keep of which with its flag could be seen above the oak
woods. This was inhabited by Mrs Gabriel, the sole representative of the
feudal lords of Colester. Yet she was only the childless widow of the
last baron, and had none of the fierce Gabriel blood in her veins. The
once powerful and prolific family was extinct.
From castle and village steps led down into the depression between the
two hills. Down this continued the chapel road, sloping gradually with
many windings to the plains below. The whole place had the look of some
Rhenish robber-hold. And if tradition was to be trusted, the Gabriel
lords had dwelt like eagles in their eyrie, swooping down at intervals
to harry and plunder, burn and slay the peaceful folk of the plains. A
turbulent and aggressive race the Gabriels. It had defied king and
priest, and parliament and people. Time alone had ever conquered it.
"A survival of the Middle Ages," said Mr Tempest, pointing out these
things to his companion. "It was needful that the Gabriel barons should
build strong defences. They were fierce and blood-thirsty, defiant of
law and order. For many centuries they were a scourge to the inhabitants
of the plains. These often complained to the king, and several times the
place was besieged, but without result. The Gabriels kept their hold of
it. The only thing they ever lost was their title. A bill of attainder
was passed against them in the time of the second George. After that
they became less lions than foxes."
"Just so," said Mr Pratt. "This place couldn't do much against
artillery, I guess. And even in the bow and arrow days, a strong force
coming over the moor and down the spur--"
"That was often tried," interrupted Tempest, quickly, "but the attempt
always failed. In the days of Henry II. Aylmer Gabriel beat back an
overwhelming force, and then erected the chapel as a thanksgiving. The
Archangel Gabriel was the patron saint of the family, and the chapel is
dedicated to him."
"He couldn't keep the family from dying out, however," said Pratt, as
they moved towards the village.
"No. With the late John Gabriel the family became extinct. But I daresay
Mrs Gabriel will arrange that her adopted son succeeds. He can take the
name and the coat of arms. I should be very pleased to see that," added
the vicar, half to himself. "Leo is a good fellow, and would make an
excellent landlord."
The eyes of the American flashed when the name was mentioned, but he
made only a careless comment. "Leo Haverleigh," he said, after a pause,
"he's a right smart young chap, sure. Who is he?"
"The son of Mrs Gabriel's brother. She was a Miss Haverleigh, you know.
I believe her brother was somewhat dissipated, and died abroad. The boy
arrived here when he was three years of age, and Mrs Gabriel adopted
him. He will be her heir."
"Is there anyone to object?" asked Pratt, eagerly.
The vicar shook his head. "The Gabriels are absolutely extinct. Failing
Leo, the estates would lapse to the Crown. In the old days they would
have been seized by the king in any case, as the sovereigns were always
anxious to hold this point of vantage which dominated their lands below.
But we live in such law-abiding times, that Mrs Gabriel, although not of
the blood of the family, can leave the estates to whomsoever she will. I
understand that she has quite decided Leo shall inherit and take the
name; also the coat of arms."
"She doesn't strike me as over-fond of the boy," said Pratt, as they
climbed the crooked street; "rather a hard woman I should say."
"Mrs Gabriel has a particularly high moral standard," replied the vicar,
evasively, "and she wishes all to attain to it. Leo--" he hesitated.
"He's no worse than a boy ought to be," said the American, cheerily.
"Your young saint makes an old sinner. That's so, vicar!"
Mr Tempest laughed outright. "I fear there is small chance of Leo
becoming a saint either young or old," he said, "though he is a good
lad in many ways. Wild, I admit, but his heart is in the right place."
Pratt smiled to himself. He knew that Leo was in love with Sybil, the
daughter of this prosy old archæologist. Simple as Mr Tempest was, he
could not be blind to the possibility of his daughter making such an
excellent match. "Oh, yes," laughed Pratt, knowingly, "I'm sure his
heart is in the right place."
But by this time the vicar was on his hobby horse, and did not gauge the
significance of the speech. "Here," he said, waving his hand towards the
four sides of the square in which they stood, "the Romans built a camp.
It crowned this hill, and was garrisoned by the tenth legion to overawe
the turbulent tribes swarming on the plains below. In fact, this town is
built within the camp, as the name shows."
"How does it show that?" asked Pratt, more to keep the vicar talking
than because he cared.
"The name, man, the name. It is properly Colncester, but by usage has
been shortened to Colester. Coln comes from the Latin _colonia_, a
colony, and caster, or cester, is derived from _castra_, a camp.
Colncester therefore means the camp colony, which proves that the
original builders of this town erected their dwellings within the
circumvallation of the original _castra_ of Claudian. If you will come
with me, Mr Pratt, I will show you the remains of this great work."
"I have seen it several times before," replied Pratt, rather bored by
this archæological disquisition. "I know every inch of this place. It
doesn't take an American centuries to get round, and six weeks of
walking have fixed me up in your local geography. But there's the
chapel, vicar. We might walk up there. I'd like to hear a few remarks on
the subject of the chapel. Interesting. Oh, I guess so!"
"Certainly! certainly!" said Tempest, absently, "let us walk, walk," and
he strolled away with his hands in his tail-coat pockets, looking
something like an elderly jackdaw. Indeed the churchman, with his lean,
oval face, his large spectacles and the fluttering black garments on his
thin figure, very much resembled a bird. He was scholarly, well-bred and
gentle, but wholly unworldly. Since his wife had died seven years
before, Sybil had taken charge of the house. Harold Raston, the
energetic curate, looked after the parish. But for these two, both
clerical and domestic affairs would have been neglected, so immersed was
Mr Tempest in his dry-as-dust explorations. Many people said openly that
the vicar was past his work and should be pensioned off. Mrs Gabriel, a
capable and managing woman, had once hinted as much to him. But the
usually placid parson had flown into such a rage, that she had hastily
withdrawn herself and her suggestion. "There is nothing more terrible
than the rebellion of a sheep." Mrs Gabriel recalled this remark of
Balzac's when Tempest, proving himself worthy of his name, swept her in
wrath from his study.
Pratt was quite another specimen of humanity. A neat, dapper, suave
little man, undersized yet perfectly proportioned. He had black hair,
black eyes, and a clean-shaven face, which constantly wore an
expression of imperturbable good-humour. His dress was too neat for the
country. A blue serge suit, white spats on brown boots, a Panama hat,
gloves and--what he was never without--a smoothly-rolled umbrella.
Spick-and-span, he might have stepped out of a glass case, and this was
his invariable appearance. No one ever saw Pratt unshaven or untidy. He
had been everywhere, had seen everything, and was a most engaging
companion, never out of temper and never bored. But for all his smiling
ways the villagers held aloof from him. Wishing to break down their
barrier of prejudice, the sharp little American had attached himself to
the vicar during the good man's usual morning walk. He thought that such
a sight might dispose the villagers to relent.
"I shall not vary my usual walk," remarked Mr Tempest, positively. "We
will stroll through the village, return to the chapel, and then, Mr
Pratt, I hope you will lunch with me."
"Delighted, if it will not put Miss Sybil out."
"No, no. My wife is always prepared for chance visitors," answered the
vicar, quite oblivious to the fact that the late Mrs Tempest was resting
in the churchyard. "Ha, this is Mrs Jeal. How do you do, Mrs Jeal?"
Mrs Jeal was in excellent health, and said so with a curtsey. A dumpy,
rosy-faced woman was Mrs Jeal, with a pair of extremely wicked black
eyes which snapped fire when she was angered. She had a temper, but
rarely displayed it, for it suited her better to gain her ends by craft
rather than force. Fifteen years ago she had appeared from nowhere, to
settle as a midwife in Colester. Contrary to their usual fashion, the
villagers had taken her to their bosoms. This was owing to the clever
way Mrs Jeal had of managing them, and to her knowledge of herbs. She
had cured many sick people whom the doctor had given up, and
consequently was not looked upon with favour by Dr James, who had
succeeded to the family practice. But even he could not be angry at
rosy, laughing Mrs Jeal. "Though I don't like her," confessed Dr James;
"the devil looks out of her eyes. Dangerous woman, very dangerous."
Pratt had no chance of proving this remark of the doctor's to be true,
for Mrs Jeal never looked at him. She kept her wicked eyes on the kindly
vicar and smiled constantly, punctuating such smiles with an occasional
curtsey. "Pearl is not with you?" said Mr Tempest.
"No, bless her poor heart!" cried Mrs Jeal, "she is up at the chapel.
Her favourite place is the chapel, as your reverence knows."
"She might have a worse place to haunt, Mrs Jeal. Poor soul--poor, mad,
innocent child!"
"Do you call eighteen years of age childish, Mr Tempest?" asked the
woman.
"No, no! I speak of her mind, her poor, weak mind. She is still a child.
I beg of you to look after her, Mrs Jeal. We must make her path as
pleasant as we may."
"Then I beg your reverence will tell that Barker to leave her alone."
"Barker, Barker? Ah, yes, the sexton--of course. Worthy man."
Mrs Jeal sniffed. "He won't let her stay in the chapel," she said.
"Tut! tut! This must be seen to. Poor Pearl is God's child, Mrs Jeal, so
she has a right to rest in His House. Yes, yes, I'll see to it.
Good-day, Mrs Jeal."
The woman dropped a curtsey, and for the first time shot a glance at
Pratt, who was smiling blandly. A nervous expression crossed her face as
she caught his eye. The next moment she drew herself up and passed on,
crossing herself. Pratt looked after her, still smiling, then hurried to
rejoin the vicar, who began to explain in his usual wandering way.
"A good woman, Mrs Jeal, a good woman," he said. "For some years she has
had charge of Pearl Darry, whom she rescued from her cruel father."
"Is that the insane girl?" said Pratt, idly.
"Do not talk of one so afflicted in that way, Mr Pratt. Pearl may not be
quite right in her head, but she is sane enough to conduct herself
properly. If the fact that she is not all herself reached
Portfront"--the principal town of the county--"it is possible that the
authorities might wish to shut her up, and that would be the death of
Pearl. No, no!" said the good vicar, "let her have a fair share of God's
beautiful earth, and live to a happy old age. In this quiet place we can
afford one natural."
"Like the village idiot we read about in Scotch tales," said Pratt.
"Just so, Mr Pratt. In _Waverley_ there is such a one. Pearl Darry is
quite harmless, and really has a very beautiful nature. Mrs Jeal is much
to be commended for her charity."
"She looks a charitable woman," said the American, but whether he meant
this ironically or not it is hard to say.
The women of Colester were mostly lace-workers, and toiled at this
fairylike craft while their husbands worked in the fields below. During
three seasons the mountain men, as they might be called, ploughed the
meadow-land, sowed the corn and helped to reap and harvest it. In the
winter they returned to live on their earnings and take a holiday. But
the women worked all the year through, and Colester lace was famous. As
the vicar and Pratt walked down the street, at the door of every house
sat a woman with her pillow and pins dexterously making the filmy fabric
which was destined to adorn the dress of many a London beauty. They were
mostly serious-looking, and some even grim. But all had a smile for the
vicar, although they pursed up their lips when they saw the good-natured
face of Pratt. Most unaccountable this dislike they had for the
American. He was rather annoyed by his pronounced unpopularity.
"I must really do something to make them like me," he said, much vexed.
"Tut, tut!" replied the vicar, "liking will come in good time, Mr Pratt.
It takes some years for them to fancy a stranger. I was an object of
distrust to them for quite three. Now they are devoted to me."
"And have you been here long?"
"About forty years," said Tempest. "I have buried many and christened
most. We have no Methodists in Colester, Mr Pratt. Everyone comes to
church and worships according to the rites of the Anglican communion, as
is fit and proper."
"I suppose you are a prosperous community on the whole?"
"So, so! Nothing to complain of. The lace made here by those clever
fingers sells well in London and even abroad. Then the men earn a fair
wage in King's-meadows. Mrs Gabriel looks after the few poor we have
amongst us. On the whole, we have much to be thankful for, Mr Pratt."
Thus talking the good vicar led his companion round by the mouldering
walls, where they could look down on to the plains. After a glance they
re-entered the town and walked through the cobbled-stoned streets,
between the quaint, high-roofed houses. Everywhere the vicar was greeted
and Pratt frowned upon. He was quite glad when they descended from the
village through the old gate, and after walking along the neck, which
was the fashionable part of Colester, began to climb up towards the
chapel.
"A most delightful spot," said Pratt, politely; "but I guess the folk
don't cotton to me. I must make them freeze on somehow."
CHAPTER II
THE CRUSADERS' CHAPEL
The church dedicated to St Gabriel the Messenger was enshrined in a
leafy glade. No churlish wall marked the limits of the sacred ground,
and from the ancient building a soft green sward stretched on all sides
to the circle of oaks which sheltered it from the rude winds. In this
circle were two openings counter to each other. The lower one admitted
those who came from Colester into the precincts; the upper gave entrance
to a larger glade, in which the dead had been buried for centuries. This
also was without a wall, and it was strange beyond words to come
suddenly upon an assemblage of tombstones in the heart of a wood. From
this sylvan God's-acre a path climbed upward to the moor, and passed
onward for some little distance until it was obliterated by the purple
heather. Then for leagues stretched the trackless, treeless waste to the
foot of distant hills.
Of no great size, the chapel was an architectural gem. Built in the form
of a cross, a square tower rose where the four arms met, and this
contained a famous peal of bells. The grey stone walls were carved with
strange and holy devices, lettered with sacred texts in mediæval Latin,
and here and there were draped in darkly-green ivy. The sharp angles of
the building had been rounded by the weather, the stones were mellowed
by time, and, nestling under the great boughs of the oaks, it had a
holy, restful look. "Like a prayer made visible," said Mr Tempest.
With his companion he had paused at the entrance to the glade, so as to
enjoy the beauty of the scene. Round the chapel swept the swallows,
pigeons whirled aloft in the cloudless blue sky; from the leafy trees
came the cooing of doves, and the cawing of rooks could be heard. All
the wild life of the wood haunted the chapel, and the place was musical
with forest minstrelsy. As the beauty of scene and sound crept into
their hearts, the vicar quoted Spenser's lovely lines:--
"A little lowly hermitage it was,
Downe in a dale, hard by a forest side."
"Just so," said Pratt, in the hard, unromantic way of the twentieth
century; "it's the kind of church you see in pictures."
"The church in which Sir Percival met Sir Galahad," replied Tempest.
The American felt the influence of the place despite the material faith
which he held. There was a vein of romance in his nature which had been
buried beneath the common-place and selfish. But in this holy solitude,
at the door of the shrine, his spiritual self came uppermost, and when
he stood bare-headed in the nave his talkative tongue was silent. The
influence of the unseen surrounded him, and, like Moses, he was
inclined to put off his shoes, "for this is holy ground," murmured his
heart.
Glancing at his companion, Tempest was surprised to see his usually pale
and calm face working with emotion and covered with blushes.
"You are unwell, Mr Pratt?" he asked in a low tone befitting the place.
The man stammered, "No--that is, I feel that--well, no matter." He
controlled himself by a powerful effort and laughed. Tempest was not
shocked. He was shrewd enough to see that the merriment was artificial
and designed to cloak a deeper feeling. But the laughter was reproved in
a most unexpected fashion.
"The joy of the profane is as the passing smoke," said a high, sweet
voice.
Pratt started in surprise, and looked around. He saw the jewelled
windows shining through the dim twilight of the church, the white cloth
on the altar, and the glimmer of a silver crucifix, in the faint light
of tall candles. But who had spoken he could not guess, as no one was in
sight. Mr Tempest, however, had recognised the voice.
"Is that you, Pearl?" he called out softly.
From behind the altar emerged a girl of eighteen, though in looks and
stature she was a child. She was small and delicately formed, and on her
thin white face there was a vacant look as of one whose wits were
astray. No intelligence shone through her dark eyes, but a mystical
light burned in their depths. Like Kilmeny, she had been to fairyland,
and had seen things which had lifted her above the common lot of
mortals. Therefore upon her face there shone the light that never was on
sea or land. And, curiously enough, she was dressed in a green gown--the
fairy's colour. Round her straw hat was twisted a wreath of oak leaves.
When she appeared her arms were full of flowers.
"You are decorating the altar, Pearl," said the vicar, kindly.
"I am making ready the House for the Master's coming," replied the girl
in her silvery voice, "but He will abide here but a little time." She
pointed to the groined roof of black oak. "That shuts out His Home,"
said Pearl, reverently, "and He loves not to dwell in darkness."
"Darkness and light are the same to Him, Pearl. But go on with your
work, my child. You have beautiful flowers I see."
"I gathered them in the woods before dawn, when the dew was yet on them.
And see, I have got these mosses to put into the pots. The flowers will
be quite fresh to-morrow for morning service. Then they will die," added
the girl, heaving a sigh, "die, as we all must."
"To rise again in the light of Heaven, child."
Pearl shook her black locks and turning back to the altar began
dexterously to arrange the flowers. When passing and re-passing she
never forgot to bend the knee. Pratt observed this. "Is she a Roman
Catholic?" Mr Tempest smiled. "She does only what I have taught her," he
said. "I am what is called High Church, Mr Pratt, and believe in a
beautiful ritual. To the service of God we should bring all lovely
things, and perform all solemn acts of humility and reverence. That,"
said Tempest, pointing to the white-covered altar, "is a symbol of the
Unseen Power, and so those who approach it should acknowledge its solemn
meaning."
Pratt shrugged his shoulders. The vicar was talking of things too high
for his comprehension. He looked at the mad girl decorating the altar.
"I suppose the villagers think a great deal of this church," he said.
"It is the most precious possession we have," replied Tempest,
reverently, "and it is all that remains to us of the beautiful and
sacred things created by the faith of our forefathers. There were many
vessels for the altar, Mr Pratt; but these were melted down by the
Gabriel who fought for the first Charles in order to help his king. I
would we had a communion service as beautiful as this shrine," and Mr
Tempest sighed.
The remark gave Pratt an idea. He wanted to obtain the goodwill of the
villagers seeing he had come amongst them to pass his days in peace. If
they loved their church so much they would approve of anyone who helped
to decorate it. "I am not rich," he said slowly, "and I can't give you a
whole service such as you want. But I should like to present this chapel
with a communion cup. I have in my travels collected many beautiful
things, Mr Tempest. Amongst others a golden cup of Roman workmanship
which I obtained in Italy. It is a splendid example of the jeweller's
art, and would look well on that table."
"On the altar," corrected Tempest, wincing at the sound of the word
which he connected with the Low Church party. "It is more than good of
you, Mr Pratt. We must talk the matter over. I do not accept gifts
lightly, especially for the service of the Church. But come, let us look
at the tombs. Then we can go to luncheon."
Pratt said no more, but fully made up his mind that the cup of which he
spoke should figure on the altar. He had a vague kind of idea that he
could buy repentance if he gave so splendid a present. If the vicar
proved difficult to deal with, he resolved to ask for Mrs Gabriel's
help. As the lady of the manor, she could insist upon the acceptance of
the offering. There was no reason why Tempest should refuse it, but
Pratt knew that the old man was--as he phrased it--queer, and one never
knew what objection he might make. If he thought that the cup was given
only to secure the goodwill of the parish he would certainly refuse it.
A gift made in such a spirit could not be accepted by the Church.
Meanwhile he examined the tombs of the crusading Gabriels, which he had
seen often before. But the vicar made the present visit more acceptable
by recounting the legends connected with each recumbent figure. The
tombs were three in number, and occupied what was called the Ladye's
Chapel. Their sides were richly blazoned with the Gabriel crest and with
decorations of scallop shells to denote that those who rested below had
been to the Holy Land. The figures of the brave knights were
cross-legged, and their hands rested on the pommels of their huge
swords. Considering the lapse of time, they were in a wonderful state of
preservation. Pratt looked upon them with a sigh, and the vicar inquired
the reason of his sadness.
"I was thinking of the glory of having such ancestors," said Pratt, and
Mr Tempest noticed that his Yankee twang and mode of expressing himself
had quite disappeared. "I would give anything to come of such a line--to
have a dwelling that had been in the possession of my race for
centuries, and to have traditions which I could live up to. I am a
lonely man, Mr Tempest," he added, with some pathos, "no one cares for
me. I never had a home, or a family, or a position in the world. All my
life I have had to fight for my own hand, and for years I have been a
rolling stone. Money, yes! I have made money, but I would give it all,"
and he pointed to the crusaders, "if I could call those my ancestors."
Mr Tempest looked surprised. "I did not expect to hear such views from
the mouth of a Republican," he said, "for, as you are an American, I
presume you hold by the political faith of Washington."
"I don't hold by anything in particular," replied Pratt, recovering
himself, as they left the chapel. "I am unfettered by sectarian
prejudices. You can call me a cosmopolitan, Mr Tempest. But we can talk
of these things on some other occasion. You must come to see me. I have
furnished The Nun's House, and have got out my collection of rare and
curious things. Will you and Miss Tempest dine with me next week?"
"I rarely go out," replied the vicar; "however, I will see what Sybil
says. If she is willing, I will come with pleasure."
"Oh, Miss Tempest will be willing," said Pratt, significantly. "Leo
Haverleigh is coming to dine also!"
"They are very good friends," said the vicar, simply. No thought of what
Pratt meant entered his mind.
At the Vicarage they were met by Sybil and the curate, who had been
talking to her about parish affairs for the greater part of the morning.
At once Raston drew aside his ecclesiastical superior, and the two went
into the library, leaving Sybil to entertain the American. She was not
averse to doing this, as she liked Mr Pratt and his merry conversation.
Having recovered from the emotion caused by the atmosphere of the
chapel, the man was more pronouncedly Yankee than ever. He described his
walk with the vicar, and repeated his invitation to dinner. "Mrs Gabriel
and Mr Haverleigh are coming," he said, "and I shall also ask Sir Frank
Hale and his sister."
Sybil smiled on hearing that Leo was to be present, but her brow clouded
over when she heard about the baronet and Miss Hale. She did not like
that young woman, and Pratt knew the cause. It was not unconnected with
Leo. He was the prize for which these young ladies strove. Miss Hale was
very much in love with the young man, and so was Sibyl, but he cared
more for the vicar's daughter than for Miss Hale. The two girls guessed
each other's feelings, and disliked one another accordingly. This might
not have been proper, but it was eminently human. However, Sibyl was too
much a woman of the world to show Pratt what she felt, and she accepted
his invitation calmly enough. "I shall be delighted to come," she said,
"but I can't answer for my father."
"Oh, I have something to lure him," said Pratt, easily, "and I think you
will be pleased also, Miss Tempest." And thereupon he told the girl of
his proposed gift. "The cup is over a thousand years old," he explained.
"It belongs to the time of the Cæsars."
"From all I have heard of them," said Sybil, bluntly, "I don't think a
vessel of their manufacture ought to serve for a Christian ceremony."
"On the contrary, the cup will be sanctified by being put to such a good
use," said Pratt, "and you can set your mind at rest, Miss Tempest. I
got the cup from the church of a little Italian town, where it served
for a chalice. It has been used in the service of the Romish Church for
ages."
"In that case I am sure my father will be delighted to accept it. He is
anxious to get some vessels for the chapel altar. It is very good of you
to give the cup, Mr Pratt."
"Not at all. It is better put to such use than in my collection.
However, you will see all my curios when you come. Mr Haverleigh has
already seen them."
"He told me about them yesterday. I only hope Mr Haverleigh will be here
next week. He said something about going away."
"Why is he going away?" Pratt fixed his keen eyes on the girl.
"I think he is in trouble. That is," added Sybil, hastily, "I gathered
as much. But don't say I told you anything, Mr Pratt. Ah," she broke off
suddenly, "here are my father and Mr Raston."
Pratt cast another sharp glance at her. He guessed that something was
wrong with Leo, and that the young man had told her of his trouble. He
wondered if the two were engaged when they were thus confidential. Pratt
took an interest in Leo, as he had known him for some years, and rather
sympathised with his outbursts of youthful folly. He thought that
marriage would steady the lad's somewhat volatile nature, but he could
not make up his mind as to whether Miss Hale or Miss Tempest was the
best wife for him. However, it was useless for Pratt to worry over this,
as he recognised very clearly. In the first place, it was none of his
business; and in the second, Leo would certainly choose for himself.
"I am giving a house-warming, Mr Raston," said Pratt during luncheon,
"and I should like you to come to dinner. Next Thursday. I suppose in
this Arcadian spot it is not necessary to give written invitations."
"I accept with pleasure," replied Raston, quite ignorant that Pratt
wished to enlist him on his side in getting the vicar to accept the cup;
"but as to written invitations--what do you say, Miss Tempest?"
"Oh, those are _most_ necessary," laughed Sybil. "We are very particular
in this part of the world."
"I am an American, you see, Miss Tempest, and I don't know your English
way of doing things. But the invitations shall be written in due form. I
guess it is as well to humour the prejudice of folks."
"If you wish to be popular," said the vicar, "you must do so here."
"As I intend to die in this part of the world, I must get on with the
crowd somehow. I am not accustomed to be shunned, and that is what your
people here are doing."
"Oh, no!" cried Sybil, much distressed, "they are only waiting to know
you better, Mr Pratt. In a year you will be quite friendly with them."
"I'm friendly with them now," said Pratt, dryly, "it is they who hold
off."
"We are slow to make friendships here," said Raston, "but when we do
accept a friend we stick to him always."
"You are a native of these parts, Mr Raston?"
"I was born and bred here."
"It is I who am the stranger," put in Mr Tempest, "and it was a long
time before my parishioners took to me."
"You are adored now, papa," said Sybil, with a bright glance.
"And someone else is adored also," put in Pratt. Sybil flushed at the
compliment. She thought it was in bad taste.
After a time the conversation turned on Pearl Darry, and Raston, who was
deeply interested in her, gave them some insight into the girl's mind.
"She does not care for churches built by hands," he said. "If she had
her way she would take the altar into the middle of the moor and worship
there. I think she feels stifled under a roof."
"Ha!" said Pratt, with a swift glance, remembering Mrs Jeal, "is she of
gipsy blood? She looks like it."
"No. Her dark complexion comes from Highland blood," explained Sybil.
"Her father, Peter Darry, was a stone mason. He is dead now--died
through drink. While working in Perth he married a farmer's daughter.
They came back here and Pearl was born. Then her mother died and her
father treated her badly. Mrs Jeal rescued her, and Peter fell over a
cliff while drunk."
"Mrs Jeal is a good woman," said Tempest, mechanically.
"Do you endorse that statement, Miss Tempest?"
Sybil looked at Pratt who had spoken. "I think Mrs Jeal was very good to
take charge of Pearl," she said evasively, whereat Pratt smiled to
himself. He saw that Sybil did not like the woman, and privately admired
her insight.
Mr Pratt was destined to deliver all his invitations verbally. On his
way home after the vicar's luncheon he met with a rider on a roan horse.
This was a fair, handsome young man with a clear skin, a pair of bright
blue eyes and a sunny look on his face. He had a remarkably good figure,
and rode admirably. Horse and man made a picture as they came up the
road. Pratt waved his hands and the rider pulled up.
"How are you this morning, Haverleigh?"
Leo laughed. He did not wear his heart on his sleeve, and if he was
worried, as Sybil averred, he did not show his vexation. "I am all
right," he replied, with a smile. "Who could help being all right in
this jolly weather? And how are you, Mr Pratt?"
"I am busy," responded the American, gravely. "I have been lunching with
the vicar, and now I am going home to write out invitations for a dinner
at my new house."
"Will you ask me, Mr Pratt?"
"I have asked Miss Tempest and I want you to come."
Leo laughed. Also he flushed a trifle. "It is very good of you," he
said. "And who else will be at your house-warming?"
"Mrs Gabriel, Mr Raston, Miss Hale and her brother."
"Oh!" Leo looked annoyed at the mention of Miss Hale. "I am not sure if
I shall be able to come," he said, after a pause.
"No?" Pratt's tone was quite easy. "Miss Tempest said something about
your going away. But I hope you will put that off. My dear
fellow"--Pratt smiled meaningly--"you can depend upon me. It is not the
first time I have helped you!"
Haverleigh made no direct response, but sat on his saddle in deep
thought. "I'll come," he said at length, and rode off abruptly.
"I thought you would," murmured Pratt, with a bland smile. He knew more
about Leo Haverleigh than most people in Colester.
CHAPTER III
THE LADY OF THE MANOR
Haverleigh's face did not continue to wear its sunny expression after he
left the American. He frowned and bit his moustache, and in the
annoyance of the moment spurred his horse full speed up the castle road.
Only when he was within the avenue and nearing the porch did he slacken
speed, for his mother--so he called her--might be looking out of some
window. If so, she would assuredly accuse him of ill-using his horse.
Mrs Gabriel rarely minced matters in her dealings with Leo. He was never
perfectly sure whether she loved or hated him.
Mindful of this, he rode gently round to the stables, and, after
throwing his reins to a groom, walked into the castle by a side door. As
he had been absent all the morning, he was not very sure of his
reception, and, moreover, he had eaten no luncheon. The butler informed
him that Mrs Gabriel had asked that he should be sent to her the moment
he returned. At once Leo sought her on the south terrace, where she was
walking in the hot June sunshine. He augured ill from her anxiety to see
him. A memory of his debts and other follies--pardonable
enough--burdened his conscience.
"Here I am, mother," he said as he walked on to the terrace, looking a
son of whom any woman would have been proud. Perhaps if he had really
been her son, instead of her nephew, Mrs Gabriel might have been more
lenient towards him. As it was she treated him almost as harshly as
Roger Ascham did Lady Jane Grey of unhappy memory.
"It is about time you were here," she said in her strong, stern voice.
"As you are so much in London, I think you might give me a few hours of
your time when you condescend to stay at the castle."
Leo threw himself wearily into a stone seat and played with his whip.
This was his usual greeting, and he knew that Mrs Gabriel would go on
finding fault and blaming him until she felt inclined to stop. His only
defence was to keep silent. He therefore stared gloomily on the pavement
and listened stolidly to her stormy speech. "No reverence for
women--after all I have done for you--clownish behaviour," etc.
Some wit had once compared Mrs Gabriel to Agnes de Montfort, that
unpleasant heroine of the Middle Ages. The comparison was a happy one,
for Mrs Gabriel was just such another tall, black-haired, iron-faced
Amazon. She could well have played the _rôle_ of heroine in holding the
castle against foes, and without doubt would have been delighted to
sustain a siege. The present days were too tame for her. She yearned for
the time when ladies were left in charge of the _donjon_ keep, while
their husbands went out to war. More than once she fancied that if she
had lived in those stirring times, she would have armed herself like
Britomart, and have gone a disguised knight-errant for the pleasure and
danger of the thing. As it was, she found a certain relief in the power
she exercised in Colester. Her will was law in the town, and her rule
quite feudal in its demand for absolute obedience.
Report said that the late John Gabriel had not been altogether sorry
when he departed this life. Undoubtedly he was more at rest in the quiet
graveyard near the chapel than he had ever been before. Mrs Gabriel
mourned him just as much as she thought proper. She had never professed
to love him, and had married him (as she calmly admitted) in order to
become mistress of the grand old castle. Besides, Gabriel had always
hampered her desire to rule, as he had sufficient of the old blood in
him to dislike being a cypher in his ancestral home. Consequently,
husband and wife quarrelled bitterly. Finally, he died, gladly enough,
and the Amazon had it all her own way. It was about two years after his
death that Leo came to live with her, and everyone was amazed that she
should behave so kindly towards the child of her dead brother, whom, as
it was well known, she hated thoroughly.
However, Leo came, and from the moment he entered the house she bullied
him. Spirited as the boy was, he could not hold his own against her
stern will and powers of wrathful speech. When he went to school and
college he felt as though he had escaped from gaol, and always returned
unwillingly to Colester. Mrs Gabriel called this ingratitude, and on
every occasion brought it to his mind. She did so now; but even this
could not induce Leo to speak. He declined to furnish fuel to her wrath
by argument or contradiction. This also was a fault, and Mrs Gabriel
mentioned it furiously.
"Can't you say something?" she cried, with a stamp. "Is it any use your
sitting there like a fool? What explanation have you for me?"
"To what?" asked Leo, wearily; the question had been asked so often.
"You have accused me of so many things."
"Then why do you do wrong? I am talking of those debts you have incurred
in London. You gave the list to me before you went out riding."
"I know, mother. I thought it best to avoid a scene. But it seems there
is no escape. When you have quite done perhaps you will let me speak?"
"You shall speak when I choose," rejoined Mrs Gabriel, fiercely. "All I
ask you now is, how comes it that your debts run up to three hundred
pounds? I allow you that income. You should make it do."
"Perhaps I have been a little foolish," began Leo, but she cut him
short.
"A little foolish, indeed! You have behaved like a fool, as you always
do. What right have you to be extravagant? Are you in a position to be
so? Have I not fed and clothed and educated you?"
"You have done everything that a charitable woman could have done."
"You mean that a _mother_ could have done. Had you been my own child--"
"You might have been kinder to me," finished the young man.
Mrs Gabriel stared aghast at this speech, and at last broke out
furiously, "Had you been my own child you would have been a stronger
man; not a weak fool squandering money, and defying your benefactress.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I am," replied Leo, bitterly, "ashamed that I have endured this
humiliating position for so long. I was only a child when you brought me
here, and had no voice in the matter. Yet, out of gratitude, I have
borne with your injustice, and--"
"Injustice!" broke in Mrs Gabriel. "What do you mean?"
"My meaning is not hard to gather, mother. You have never been just to
me, and the bread with which you have fed me has been bitter enough to
swallow. Do you think that I can go on listening to your angry words
without a protest? I cannot. My position is not of my own making, and
since you find me a burden and an ungrateful creature, the best thing
will be to put an end to the position."
"Indeed!" sneered the woman. "And how do you propose to do that? You are
quite unable to earn your own living."
"Oh, there is one way of doing that," replied Leo, grimly. "It does not
need much education to be a soldier."
"A soldier!" screamed Mrs Gabriel.
"Yes. I made inquiries while I was in London, as I knew very well what
welcome you would give me. It is my intention to volunteer for the war."
"You'll do nothing of the sort."
"I beg your pardon. I have made up my mind."
"Then I shall have nothing more to do with you."
"That is as you please, Mrs Gabriel. You are my aunt, and I suppose you
have the right to support me out of charity. At any rate, you have no
right to keep me here and taunt me all the time with my inability to
keep myself. Again I say that the position is none of my making.
However, I intend to relieve you of the burden of a useless man. Next
week I shall enlist. Then you will be well rid of me."
Mrs Gabriel gasped. "I forbid you!" she cried, with a stamp.
"I am afraid I must decline to accept the command," said Haverleigh,
with great coolness. "You have told me often enough that I am a beggar
and a loafer. You shall do so no longer. As to my debts, I shall see to
them myself. You need not pay them, nor need you continue my allowance.
I earn my own bread from this moment."
"How dare you, Leo? Do you not owe me something?"
"No! You have cancelled all obligation by the way in which you have
treated me. Everything you have done has been done grudgingly. If you
did not intend to behave as a woman should, why, in Heaven's name, did
you not leave me to be dependent on strangers? They could scarcely have
been more harsh to me than you have been. But this is the end of it. I
relieve you from this hour of the burden you complain of."
"Take care. I intended you to be my heir, and--"
"I decline to accept further favours at your hands," said Leo, proudly;
"for what you have done I thank you, but I do not care to accept an
inheritance as a favour. Now you know my intentions and I shall not
change them."
Mrs Gabriel raged for twenty minutes without making the least impression
on the young man. He was determined to put an end to the position, and
she found that she could not longer dominate him by her wrath. Then Mrs
Gabriel became aware that she had driven him like a rat into a corner,
and that, like a rat, he had turned to fight. For reasons best known to
herself she did not wish him to leave her. Forthwith she abandoned her
tyrannical attitude, and took refuge in the weakness of her sex.
Considering her boasting, this was ironical.
"It is cruel of you, Leo, to behave thus to a woman who loves you!"
Leo, leaning over the parapet, shrugged his shoulders and replied
without looking round. "That is just the point," he said. "You really do
not love me--no, not one little bit."
"I do. See how I have looked after you all these years."
"And made me feel that I was a pauper all the time," he retorted. "But
is it necessary to go over all the old ground? I have made up my mind."
"You shall not enlist."
"I tell you I shall."
The two faced one another, both pale and both defiant. It was a contest
of will, and the weaker would be sure to yield in the long run. Mrs
Gabriel quite expected that her adopted son would give in, as he had
often done before, but this time she found to her surprise that he
declined to move from his attitude of defiance. Seeing that she was
beaten, she suddenly calmed and proceeded to win the necessary victory
in another and more crafty way.
"Sit down, Leo," she said quietly. "It is time we had an explanation.
You are behaving very badly, and I must request you at least to listen
to me."
Haverleigh had been doing nothing else for nearly an hour, so this
speech was a trifle inconsistent. However, he could not be brutal, so
with another shrug he resumed his seat. All the same he was resolved in
his own mind that no argument she could use should make him alter the
course he had determined upon. Leo could be obstinate on occasions.
"I do everything I can for your good," said Mrs Gabriel in a complaining
tone, "yet you thwart me at every turn." Then she proceeded to recount
how she had sent him to Eton, to Oxford, how she had permitted him to go
to London and allowed him money, and how he had behaved foolishly. It
was at this point the young man interrupted her.
"I admit that I have been foolish, but that comes from want of
experience. You can't expect me to have an old head on young shoulders."
"Don't interrupt me, please," said Mrs Gabriel, sharply. "Now that you
have sown your wild oats, I want you to come here and take your position
as my heir. I am no longer so young as I was, and I need someone to help
me in administering the estate. Besides, I want you to marry."
Leo rose from his seat. "You wish me to marry," said he; then, after a
pause, he proceeded sarcastically, "And I suppose you have chosen me a
wife?"
"Just so," said Mrs Gabriel, coolly. "I want you to marry Miss Hale."
"Not if there was not another woman in the world!"
"That's all nonsense, Leo. She has a good dowry and she is an agreeable
girl. You _shall_ marry her."
"I don't love her," protested Leo.
"No matter; she loves you. Her brother told me so, and I am woman enough
to see that she is deeply attached to you."
"I won't marry her!" said Leo, doggedly. "I have a right to choose a
wife for myself, and Miss Hale is not my choice."
"Ah! Then what I have heard is true?"
"What have you heard?" he demanded, with a dangerous look in his blue
eyes. Mrs Gabriel was going too far.
"That you are in love with Sibyl Tempest."
"That is true. She is a beautiful and charming girl."
"And a beggar!" burst out Mrs Gabriel, savagely. "Her father has nothing
beyond his stipend, and that he spends on books. When he dies she will
be a beggar. If you married her she would bring you no dowry."
"She will bring me herself," replied Haverleigh, "and that is good
enough for me. I love Sybil with my whole soul."
"And how do you propose to keep her?" sneered Mrs Gabriel.
"Not as the heir to your property," said Leo, wrathfully. "In some way
or another I shall make my way in the world. Sybil is quite willing to
wait for me. We are engaged."
"Ha! You seem to have settled the whole matter."
"We have. And it will not be unsettled by anyone."
The young man looked so determined, there was such fire in his eye, such
a firmness about his closed mouth, that Mrs Gabriel felt that she was
beaten. For the moment she retreated gracefully, but by no means gave up
her point. By nagging at Leo she might be enabled to bring about things
as she wished. "Well, have it your own way," she said, rising. "I have
said my say, and you are behaving abominably."
"I am sorry you should think so, but I really cannot submit to this life
any longer. You quite understand that next week I go to London?"
"As you please." Mrs Gabriel was outwardly calm, but inwardly furious.
"I hope you have well considered what you are doing?"
"I have. My mind has been made up for some time."
"In that case, Leo, we may as well part good friends. I shall pay your
debts and fit you out. Now do not contradict me. If you have any feeling
of gratitude you will at least let me do this much."
Haverleigh did not like the proposition, as he felt that Mrs Gabriel was
preparing some snare into which he might blindly fall. However, as he
could not see his way to a refusal, and, moreover, was weary of this
bickering, he merely bowed. Mrs Gabriel had thus gained time, and in
some measure had secured the victory. It remained to her to make the
best use of it. She was determined that Leo should marry Edith Hale.
"Have you had luncheon, Leo?" she asked, changing the subject.
"No. But I am not hungry now."
"Nonsense. A big man like you. Come in and have something to eat at
once."
As a refusal would only have meant another outburst, Leo accepted the
inevitable, and moved towards the door with his mother. "By the way," he
said, "I met Mr Pratt down below. He intends to ask us to a
house-warming."
It might have been Leo's fancy, but he thought that Mrs Gabriel started
at the mention of the name. However, there was an emotion in her hard
voice as she replied, "I shall be rather glad to see the interior of his
house, Leo. It is said that he has the most beautiful things. Will he
ask us to dinner?"
"Yes. Hale and his sister are coming."
"Ah!" said Mrs Gabriel in gratified tones.
"And the vicar and his daughter. Also Raston, the curate."
"The church party," said Mrs Gabriel, disdainfully. She had no love for
Tempest, whom she regarded as half insane, nor for Sibyl, who was too
beautiful for womanly taste, nor for Raston, who had frequently fought
her on questions connected with parish affairs.
"By the way," said Leo, who had been meditating, "why has Mr Pratt
settled in these parts? I should think he found it dull."
Mrs Gabriel smiled contemptuously. "Mr Pratt is not a foolish young man
like someone I know," she said; "he does not find pleasure in the
follies of the Town. For my part, I think he is wise to settle here in
his old age. He is a delightful neighbour and a pleasant companion."
"He is all that," assented Leo, heartily. He liked Pratt. "You have
known him for many years, mother?"
"For ten or twelve," replied Mrs Gabriel, carelessly. "I met him in
Vienna, I think, and he called on me when I returned to London.
Afterwards he came down here and fell in love with the place. For years
he has been a rolling stone, but always said that when he settled down
he would come to Colester. He is liked, is he not, Leo?"
"He is more than liked. He is immensely popular--with our friends, if
not with the villagers. You have done a good deed in introducing him to
our dull parish."
"I don't think Mr Pratt, who has so many resources in himself, finds it
dull, my dear. However, I shall be glad to accept the invitation to his
dinner. I should like to see him married."
"Indeed! Have you chosen him a wife also?"
Mrs Gabriel laughed. "I thought he might take a fancy to Sibyl Tempest."
"Why, he's old enough to be her father. Besides--"
"Besides you love her," finished Mrs Gabriel, with a shrug. "Well, do
not get angry, Leo. I should like to see Mr Pratt marry Sybil and you
the husband of Edith Hale. Then everything would be right."
"I don't think so at all," commenced Haverleigh in vexed tones. "But
don't let us quarrel any more. I have the greatest regard for Pratt, but
I do not care to go the length of letting him marry the girl I love."
"You know very little of Mr Pratt," said Mrs Gabriel, looking suddenly
at the young man, "how, then, can you regard him so--"
"Oh, I have seen him often in Town," broke in Leo; "sometimes when I was
in difficulties and did not want to tell you Pratt helped me."
"With money?" asked Mrs Gabriel, sharply.
"Of course with money. But I paid him back."
Mrs Gabriel made no answer, but, rising suddenly, passed out of the
room, and left Leo eating his luncheon alone. Her usually calm face
looked disturbed and her hands were restless. Leo's information had
annoyed her.
"What does Pratt mean?" she asked herself. "Can't he leave the boy alone
after all these years? I wonder--" She broke off and pressed her hand to
her heart as though she there felt a cruel pain. Perhaps she did, but
Mrs Gabriel was not the woman to show it.
CHAPTER IV
THE DINNER-PARTY
Built on the lower slopes of the Castle Hill, Mr Pratt's residence,
commonly known as The Nun's House, stood a little distance back from the
highway which led down to King's-meadows. It was a plain, rough stone
building of great strength, two storeys in height, and with a high roof
of slate. Gloomy in the extreme, it was rendered still more so from its
being encircled by a grove of yew trees which gave it a churchyard air.
Not the kind of residence one would have thought attractive to a
cheerful and dapper man like Richard Pratt. But he had, so he declared,
fallen in love with it at first sight, and Mrs Gabriel, always having an
eye to business, had only too readily granted him a seven years' lease.
She was delighted at the chance of securing a tenant, as the house had
been empty for a long time owing to its uncomfortable reputation. There
was not a man, woman or child in Colester that did not know it was
haunted.
The name came from a tradition, probably a true one, that when the
Colester convent had been suppressed by Henry VIII., the evicted nuns
had found refuge in this dismal house, a dozen of them. In time they
died, and the mansion was inhabited by other people. But queer sounds
were heard, strange sights were seen, and it became known that the
twelve nuns re-visited the scene of their exile. There never was a house
so populated with ghosts; and the tenants promptly departed. Others,
lured by a low rent, came, and after a month's trial departed also.
Finally no one would stop in the ill-omened mansion until Mr Pratt
arrived. He liked the place, laughed at the gruesome reputation of the
dwelling, and announced his intention of making it his home.
"Ghosts!" laughed Pratt, with his cheery smile. "Nonsense. Ghosts went
out with gas. Besides, I should rather like to see a ghost, particularly
of a nun. I am partial to the fair sex."
"I wonder, then, you never married," said the person who had warned him
against the house, with the best intentions, of course.
Pratt looked at her--she was Mrs Bathurst, the gossip of the
neighbourhood--under half-closed eye-lids, and smiled. "Ah!" said he,
rubbing his plump white hands, "I have admired so many beautiful women,
dear lady, that I could not remain constant to one;" which reason,
although plausible, did not satisfy Mrs Bathurst. But then she was one
of those amiable persons always willing to believe the worst of people.
However, Pratt took up his abode in the chief Colester inn, and sent for
cartloads of furniture, while the house was being re-decorated. He took
a deal of trouble to make it comfortable, and as he was a man of
excellent taste, with an eye for colour, he succeeded in making it
pretty as well. In six weeks the place was ready to receive him, and up
to the period of his walk with the vicar, Pratt had occupied it for
another six without being disturbed by the numerous ghosts. The Colester
folks quite expected to hear that he had been carried off like Dr Faust,
and were rather disappointed that he met with no ghostly adventure. But
then Mr Pratt, as he said himself, was not imaginative enough for
spectres.
Failing his leaving the house, the gentry expected that he would
entertain them and show his treasures, for it was reported that he had
many beautiful things. But Pratt was in no hurry. He wanted first to
study his neighbours in order to see who were the most pleasant. In a
surprisingly short time he got to know something about everyone, and on
the knowledge thus acquired he selected his guests. In addition to those
already mentioned, he invited Mrs Bathurst and her daughter Peggy. The
girl was pretty and the mother talkative, so, in Pratt's opinion, it
paid to ask them. "There is no chance of an entertainment being dull if
Mrs Bathurst has her legs under the table," he said, and this being
reported to the lady, she accused Pratt of coarseness. Nevertheless, she
accepted the invitation. Not for worlds would Mrs Bathurst have missed a
sight of re-decorated Nun's House. Besides, it was her duty to go. She
supplied all the gossip of the neighbourhood.
Anxious to see as much as possible of the house, Mrs Bathurst was the
first to arrive. Pratt, in a particularly neat evening dress, advanced
to meet her and Peggy with a smile. He knew very well that her
ungovernable curiosity had led her to be thus early. "I am glad to see
you, Mrs Bathurst," he said genially; "pray sit down. You are the first
to arrive."
"I always like to be punctual," responded the lady, nodding to her
daughter that she also should be seated. "Dear me, how well this room
looks! I can see you have spared no expense."
"I like to make myself comfortable, Mrs Bathurst. We only have one
life."
"I wonder you care to spend it in such a dull place as Colester. If Mr
Bathurst were rich I should make him take me to London."
"You would soon get tired of the roar of that city."
Here Peggy, who was fair and pretty and fond of gaiety, shook her blonde
head vigorously. "I should never get tired of fun," she said. "I could
go to a dance every night and still want more."
"Ah, Miss Peggy, you are young and active!"
"Well, dear Mr Pratt, you are not old," said Mrs Bathurst, flatteringly;
"we must make you happy here. I am sure you are quite an acquisition. We
must find you a wife."
"I shall apply to you when I want one," he said, with a laugh; "but I
guess I'm not made to run in double harness."
"What odd expressions you use! I daresay that comes from your being an
American. Never mind, you'll soon lose all Americanisms here. I look
upon you as quite one of ourselves, dear Mr Pratt."
The fact is that Mrs Bathurst wished to bring about a marriage between
her daughter Peggy and the newcomer. He had been introduced by Mrs
Gabriel, so his social position was secure; and if one could judge from
the magnificent furnishing of the house, he was a wealthy man. That
Peggy herself should be consulted never entered her mother's head.
Pratt guessed what Mrs Bathurst was after, and chuckled. He had no
intention of having the good lady for a mother-in-law. Moreover, he knew
that Peggy was in love with Raston, the curate. Nevertheless, having a
love of tormenting people, and wishing to punish Mrs Bathurst, he
sighed, cast a languishing look at Peggy, and allowed the mother to
think that he might be guided by her wish. Seeing this, the lady pushed
her advantage vigorously, and was getting on very well by the time the
other guests arrived. Then, after some desultory conversation, dealing
with the weather and the crops, all went in to dinner.
The table was beautifully set out. The linen was snowy white, the silver
and crystal of the best, and the flowers, which Pratt had personally
arranged, were skilfully chosen and blended. The women present were
rather annoyed that a man should be able to manage a house so well, for
the dinner was one of the best that had ever been eaten in Colester, and
the service was all that could be desired. What was the use, thought Mrs
Bathurst, of suggesting a wife to a man who knew so well how to dispense
with one? She could not have arranged things better herself, and it was
vexing that a mere man should be able to beat a woman on her own
ground.
"You have certainly made a very pretty place of it, Mr Pratt," said Mrs
Gabriel, when they returned to the drawing-room. "I suppose you will
live here for many a long day?"
"I hope to die here," he replied, smiling. "But one never knows. I may
take a fancy to resume my travels."
"You are like Ulysses," put in the vicar, "you know men and cities."
"And, like Ulysses, I don't think much of either, Mr Tempest."
"Come now!" cried Leo, laughing. "I never heard that Ulysses was a
cynic."
"He was not modern enough," said Sybil, who was looking particularly
charming, much to the anger of Mrs Gabriel, who saw in her a man-trap
for her adopted son.
"I don't think cynicism is altogether a modern disease," remarked Sir
Frank Hale. "Solomon had not much belief in human nature."
"What could you expect from a man who had so many wives?" put in Pratt,
in a dry voice. The remark annoyed Mrs Bathurst. It augured ill for her
scheme to marry Peggy. A man who talked thus of women could never be
brought to respect his mother-in-law.
While this conversation was taking place Mrs Gabriel kept a vigilant eye
on Leo. Whenever he tried to edge up to Sybil she contrived to get in
the way, and, finally, by a dexterous move, she placed him 'longside the
baronet's sister. Edith Hale was a tall, raw-boned, thin girl, with
small pretensions to beauty or wit. She had a freckled skin and red
hair, an awkward way of carrying herself and a silent tongue. She was so
deeply in love with Leo that she followed his every movement with her
eyes, until he found her regard most embarrassing. However, Leo, to
avert a storm when he returned home, was obliged to show her every
attention, and strolled away with her into Mr Pratt's new conservatory.
Sybil looked disappointed, but controlled herself sufficiently to play
an accompaniment for Peggy. Raston turned over the leaves of the music,
and Mrs Bathurst, with a glance at Pratt, settled herself to listen. As
to Mr Tempest, he was moving round the room examining the objects of art
in his usual near-sighted way. Seeing everyone thus occupied, Mrs
Gabriel drew aside Sir Frank into a convenient corner.
The baronet was a pale-faced, hunchback, lame creature, with a shrewish
expression and a pair of brilliant grey eyes. He had been an invalid all
his life, and his temper had been spoilt thereby. The only person in the
world for whom he cherished the least affection was his sister. In his
eyes she was as beautiful as Helen and as clever as Madame de Stael. He
knew that she was breaking her heart for Leo, and resented the young
man's indifference. And as Hale had the spite of a cripple, his
resentment was not to be despised. But Leo did not know that.
"Frank," said Mrs Gabriel, addressing him thus familiarly, as she had
known him from his cradle, "I want to speak to you about Leo. It is
time he was married. Nothing but marriage will steady him."
"Sybil Tempest is ready enough to become his wife, Mrs Gabriel," snarled
the little man. "Why don't you speak to her?"
"Because she is not your sister," replied Mrs Gabriel, coldly. "I do not
intend that Leo shall throw himself away on a penniless girl who has
nothing but her face to recommend her. Edith has both brains and
beauty."
"Leo does not see that," said Hale, who implicitly believed in his
companion; "he is infatuated with Sybil. I don't say a word against
her," he added hastily; "I want to marry her myself."
Mrs Gabriel looked with secret contempt on the deformed man, and
wondered how he could have the impertinence to think that any woman
could take him for her husband. However, she was pleased to hear of this
new complication. If Sybil could be induced to marry the baronet--and
from a worldly point of view the match was a good one--she would be out
of the way. In despair Leo might marry Edith, and thus all would be as
Mrs Gabriel wanted. She wished to move human beings as puppets to suit
her own ends, and never thought that she might be thwarted by the
individual will of those with whom she played. However, she had an idea
of how to entangle matters so as to carry out her schemes, and commenced
her intrigue with the baronet. She knew he would help her, both for his
own sake and for the sake of his sister. At the same time she moved
warily, so as not to make a false step. It was no easy matter to deal
with Hale, as she knew. Once or twice he had got the better of her in
business.
"I don't mind being candid with you," said Mrs Gabriel softly. "It is my
wish that Leo should marry Edith, and I shall be delighted to help you
to become Sybil's husband."
"It's easy saying, but harder doing," said Hale, snappishly. "Sybil is
in love with Leo, and the woman who admires Apollo will not look upon
Caliban. Oh, I am under no delusions respecting myself," he added, with
a hoarse laugh. "I am not agreeable to look upon, but I have money, a
title and a good position. Nine women out of ten would be content with
these things."
"I am afraid Sybil is the tenth," said Mrs Gabriel, coldly. "However,
neither she nor Leo know what is good for them. Help me to marry him to
your sister, and then Sybil will fall into your arms."
"Do you think so?"
"I am certain of it."
"How are we to manage?" asked Hale, after a pause. "You have some
scheme."
"It is in order to explain my scheme to you that I have brought about
this conversation. Listen. I am not pleased with Leo. He has been
leading a wild life in Town, and is in debt to the tune of three hundred
pounds."
"Humph!" said Frank, under his breath. "These Apollos know how to waste
money. I shall see that Edith's dowry is settled on herself."
"And I shall tie up the Gabriel property so that Leo cannot waste it."
Hale looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows. "You intend that he
shall be your heir, then?"
"Assuredly. If he does what I want him to do."
"What is that?"
"He must marry Edith and take up his residence in the castle. No more
gadding about, no more wild living. Let Leo be a respectable country
gentleman and his future is secure."
"Have you explained that to him?" asked the baronet, sharply.
"No. Leo is a fool, and infatuated with that girl. I must force him to
do what I want. It is for his own good. You must help, both for the sake
of Edith, and because it is your only chance of marrying Sybil."
"I'm quite ready to help you, Mrs Gabriel. Go on."
Mrs Gabriel glanced round, bent her head, and spoke lower. "I intend to
refuse to pay this three hundred pounds for Leo. There is no chance of
his earning it for himself, and he will soon be in serious difficulty.
Now if you come forward as his old friend and--"
"I don't like lending money," said Hale, who was something of a miser.
"If you want to gain Sybil and make your sister happy, you must lend Leo
three hundred pounds. When he is in your debt, well--the rest is easy."
Hale nodded. "I see what you mean," said he, ponderingly. "The idea is
not a bad one. But Leo--humph! Three hundred pounds! A large sum!"
"Oh, I will be your surety for it," said Mrs Gabriel, impatiently. She
did not want her plans upset by this miser. "But if you want to gain
anything you must sacrifice something. You love Sybil?"
"With my whole soul," said the cripple, and flushed.
"And your sister?"
"I would give anything to secure her happiness."
"Three hundred pounds will be enough," said Mrs Gabriel, coolly. "Make
Leo your debtor, and then you can deal with him. He is so honourable
that he will keep his word even at the cost of his happiness. Well?"
Hale reflected. "I will think of it," said he, cautiously.
"As you please. But remember that if I do not have this settled within
the week, I shall allow Leo to marry Sybil."
Of course Mrs Gabriel had no such intention, but she determined
outwardly on this course to frighten the baronet. It had the desired
effect.
"I will see to the matter," he said hastily; "to-night I will ask Leo to
come and see me. It will all be arranged. But three hundred pounds!" He
winced and Mrs Gabriel smiled.
"I will be your surety," she said, rising. "Let me know when you have
made Leo your debtor. Come, we must not talk any more. Here is Mr
Pratt."
It was indeed the host who came to disturb them. He wished to take the
whole party round his house. Leo and Edith returned from the
conservatory, the former looking bored, the latter brilliantly happy.
Sybil did not like this, and glanced reproachfully at Leo, who
immediately would have gone to her side, but he was anticipated by Hale.
"Help me to get round the house, Miss Tempest," he said, pointing to his
lame leg. "You must be my crutch."
Sybil could not but assent, and so Leo found himself out in the cold.
Peggy, who approved of his love for Sybil, took his arm. "Never mind,"
she said softly, "I will manage to take Sir Frank away," and Leo gave
her hand a grateful squeeze.
"Come, all of you!" cried Pratt, cheerily. "The museum is open."
He led them through a series of rooms crammed with treasures. There were
valuable pictures, pieces of rich tapestry, exquisite examples of
goldsmith's work, and many other things of value. Mr Pratt had a story
for every object. This he picked up in the Great Bazaar at Stamboul;
that was a bargain obtained in an Italian town; the silver crucifix came
from Spain; the lacquer work from Japan. Apparently he had been all over
the world, and had made purchases in every part. Here was the evidence
of his travels and his wealth before the longing eyes of Mrs Bathurst.
More than ever was she determined that Peggy should become Mrs Pratt.
While Pratt discoursed and the company exclaimed at the treasures
displayed to their wondering eyes, Mrs Gabriel maintained her haughty
silence. She surveyed all the beautiful things in a cold, unemotional
manner, and kept an eye on the movements of Leo. He felt uncomfortable
under her gaze, and once or twice looked angrily at her. But Mrs Gabriel
met his indignant looks with a calm smile.
"You must have spent a fortune on all this," said Hale, inspecting a
tray of antique coins. "What a collection!"
"I have been buying for years," explained Pratt, smiling. "Mine has been
a varied life. I was born of poor parents and had to make my own way in
the world. For years I worked in the States, in South America and
elsewhere to make money. Finally I secured a fortune in South Africa,
and for the last ten years I have devoted myself to collecting these
things. They have been stored for years, and now that I have a house of
my own, this is the first time I have been able to arrange them. I am
glad you are pleased."
"We are more than pleased," gushed Mrs Bathurst. "It is a most beautiful
treat to see these lovely things and hear you talk about them. What is
this cup, dear Mr Pratt?"
"Ah!" said Pratt, taking it up. "This is the property of the vicar."
"Mine!" said Mr Tempest in mild surprise. "Dear me, Mr Pratt, what do
you mean? It would take half my year's stipend to buy this!"
"It is the cup of which I spoke to you, vicar." Pratt handed it to
Tempest and then turned to the group. "I wish to present this cup to the
chapel, Mr Raston," he said, "and I hope that you and Mr Tempest will
accept it on behalf of the town. It is an old Roman goblet, and has
been used for centuries as a communion chalice in an Italian city. I
bought it many years ago. Is it not beautiful?"
The cup was indeed an exquisite object of art. Of considerable size, it
was of pure gold. The rim and the stem were set round with gems of great
value, and the outside was embossed with faces peering from out a tangle
of flowers. It had two handles formed of twisted snakes with ruby eyes
and round its broadest part ran an inscription in Latin. The vicar held
the goblet to the light and translated the inscription. "'To the great
God, who maketh the heart joyful,'" he said, then added dubiously, "Does
that refer to a pagan god, or to the Maker of all things?"
"If the cup is Roman, probably it is an inscription to Bacchus," said
the curate, a shadow on his face. "If so, we cannot use it as a
communion cup." Pratt laughed and raised his eyebrows at this scrupulous
regard. "You can set your mind at rest," he said. "The priest who sold
it to me on account of the poverty of his parish church said that the
inscription was inscribed during the Middle Ages. It refers to the God
of Christendom."
"In that case," said the vicar beaming, "I accept the cup with pleasure
and with many thanks. It shall be consecrated and placed on the altar by
the end of this week."
While the others were thanking and congratulating Mr Pratt, an
expression of relief might have been noticed on his face. Mrs Gabriel,
who knew his every look, wondered to herself why he appeared to be so
pleased. Evidently he was thankful to be rid of the cup. However, she
said nothing, as she was a wise woman, but added her congratulations to
those of the others.
"Everyone will be delighted," she said coldly. "Such generosity is
unusual in Colester." But her glance hinted unusual as regarded Pratt.
He received the hint smilingly.
"I hope it will make me popular," said he. "I am weak enough to wish to
be liked, and hitherto I have not secured the goodwill of the people."
"You will have it now," said Raston, "and particularly that of Pearl
Darry. She loves beautiful things for the altar, and as she attends to
the decorating of the chapel, it will be a constant pleasure to her to
keep this cup bright and spotless."
"I hope it will be safe with her!" cried Mrs Bathurst. "These insane
people are like magpies, and steal anything glittering that attracts
their weak fancies. Are you _sure_ she will not take it away, Mr
Raston?"
The curate was indignant. "Pearl would no more do such a thing than take
her own life, poor soul," he said. "She is devoted to the church.
Religion, so far as her own poor brain understands it, is her one
consolation."
"She ought to be shut up," said Mrs Gabriel.
"There I differ from you," said the vicar, mildly. "She is not harmful
enough to be placed in durance. Let her enjoy liberty and sunshine, Mrs
Gabriel. It is little pleasure she has."
"She seems to me harmless enough," said Pratt, "and if this cup will be
an additional pleasure to her, I am the more glad that Mr Tempest has
accepted it. I shall have it wrapped up, vicar."
"Thank you. Be very careful, Mr Pratt. So beautiful an object must not
be carelessly dealt with." From which remark it will be seen that now
the Roman goblet was the property of the Church it assumed quite a new
value in the eyes of the priest. Formerly it was merely a beautiful
example of the goldsmith's art; now it was sacred.
After this the company repaired to the drawing-room, where Mr Pratt told
stories until quite a late hour for Colester. Never had there been so
agreeable a host in the dull little provincial town, and one and all
confessed themselves charmed with their evening. "Quite an acquisition,"
repeated Mrs Bathurst as she departed. "Mind you come and see me, Mr
Pratt. Peggy will never forgive you if you do not." A foolish speech
which sent poor Peggy away covered with blushes. But then Mrs Bathurst's
zeal always outran her discretion.
As Mr Pratt stood at his door waving a hearty good-bye to his guests, he
saw that Hale was beside Leo and overheard a remark. "Come and see me in
three days, Leo," the baronet was saying. "I want to speak to you most
particularly."
"Most particularly," echoed Pratt, thoughtfully. "Humph! What's up
now?"
CHAPTER V
LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM
The Colester folk were certainly pleased that Mr Pratt had adorned their
beloved chapel with so magnificent a gift. They unbent so far as to
smile when they curtsied or touched their hats, but did not take him to
their bosoms. However, Pratt saw that he had made a step forward in
their affections, and professed himself well pleased. "Rome was not
built in a day," said he, philosophically.
Mr Tempest installed the cup on the altar, where it glittered in front
of the crucifix. It was an object of wonder and reverence to the simple
villagers, and the vicar himself was no less pleased. Its weight, the
beauty of the workmanship, and the splendour of the jewels, filled him
with joy, and he came to regard the pagan vessel--as it undoubtedly
was--as a kind of Holy Grail. Having made some such reference to it, the
sexton Baker, an inquisitive octogenarian, wanted to know what the Holy
Grail was. Forthwith Mr Tempest prepared a lecture, compounded of
Mallory's prose work and Tennyson's poetical interpretation. This he
delivered in the village schoolroom, and had the sacred cup placed on
the table before him, so that his hearers might have the significance of
the gift borne home to them. Pearl heard the lecture, and so much of it
as her poor wits took in led her to look upon the cup as the very vessel
itself mentioned in the poem. To Pearl the Pagan cup, as Frank Hale
called it, was the veritable vessel from which the Master had drunk at
that last sad feast. And no argument could shake this belief when she
once got it into her head.
"So ridiculous," said Mrs Jeal, sniffing. "I daresay Mr Pratt bought it
in London. He is clever at inventing stories," whereupon Pearl flew into
such a rage that the elder woman never ventured to hint a doubt of the
cup. In her own queer way, and that was none of the most righteous, Mrs
Jeal was fond of Pearl. It is true that she regarded her as a half-baked
natural, but she would never let anyone but herself say so. Mrs Jeal was
superstitious, and kept Pearl in her humble cottage as a kind of
talisman against evil. Probably she felt it necessary for her to have
some pure and innocent thing beside her. The Colester people never
thought of this. They regarded Mrs Jeal as a hard-working, honest woman.
She was certainly all that, and more. What the "more" was Mrs Jeal never
explained. She was well able to hold her tongue.
Meanwhile the cup stood on the altar, and Pearl frequently stared at it
on her knees, dreaming Heaven knows what dreams, as its beauty flashed
in the sunlight. She attended to her duties as usual, and the vicar had
no reason to complain that the decking of the altar suffered. But the
insane girl passed hours before the cup, drinking in its lovely colour
and beauty of form. It was to her a kind of fetish, and she resented it
being touched even when Mr Tempest used it for the purpose for which it
had been presented. Pratt, hearing this, laughed, and was a little
touched. He was sorry for the girl, and pleased that he had been the
means of introducing a new element of beauty into her life.
One day while Pearl was on her knees with clasped hands, Sybil entered
the chapel. She had come here to meet Leo, for owing to the vigilance of
Mrs Gabriel, a meeting was not easily arranged. Whenever Leo and Sybil
were together, they would be joined by Mrs Gabriel, by Frank Hale or by
Edith. It was no use resenting this addition to the company, for the
inconvenient third would never take the hint. Consequently Leo met Sybil
by stealth, and as those who interfered rarely came to the chapel save
on Sunday, it was the chapel they chose for their meeting-place.
Certainly Pearl was always haunting the shrine, but she gave them no
trouble.
Although the day was warm, Pearl had draped a shawl of white Chinese
crape over her shoulders. This was a present from Mrs Jeal, who had many
such beautiful things, although she would never say how she came by
them. The girl still wore her favourite green dress and the straw hat,
which had a fresh wreath of oak leaves round it. Every day the wreath
was renewed, and some significance was attached to it by the wearer
which was not understood by her friends. With her eyes fixed on the cup,
and her hands clasped on her knee, she knelt on the lower step of the
altar with a wrapt expression and moving lips.
"And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all
manner of precious stones," she murmured, and went on with the verse
enumerating the gems. Pearl knew much of the Bible by heart, and
frequently recited long passages to herself. But, like a parrot, she
could never be got to speak when she was wanted, and few knew the extent
of her knowledge. Sybil overheard the words, and guessed that the poor
creature applied them to the cup.
A strong ray of sunlight streamed in through a small plain glass window
in the chancel. It struck with a golden glory on the altar, and in its
burning light the cup flashed with many hues. The gems with which it was
adorned shot sparks of rainbow fire--the green or the emerald, the fiery
red of the ruby, the amethyst, purple in colour as a ripe grape, and
above all the fierce flash of a diamond that was in front of the vessel
immediately above the Latin inscription. Sybil did not wonder that Pearl
had a passion for the cup. It looked a singularly beautiful object
glowing in the splendour of the sunlight, and might well have been the
Holy Grail, as Pearl thought it was.
"What is it, Pearl?" she asked, drawing near, but speaking low so as not
to disturb the girl. For Pearl was like a wild animal, and shrank away
even at the slightest sound. And even as she spoke the sunlight passed
away.
"It is gone, gone!" cried Pearl, rising with a wild look. "The Master
has withdrawn His presence. I would that I could take it out where His
sun would ever shine. Did you see the angels, Miss Sybil?"
"What angels, Pearl?"
"In the beam of the Master's glory. They ascended and descended like the
angels of Jacob's dream. From the holy cup a shining pathway went up to
heaven, and now it is gone."
"The shining pathway will be there again at this same hour to-morrow,"
said Sybil, comforting the girl.
"But it endures only for a little while," sighed Pearl. "Oh, why doesn't
the Master take His cup into the bright sunshine where it could grow
warm and rejoice in the glory of day? And the sun would make it glitter
like a thousand fires, nor would the moon withhold her light."
"It is better here in this sacred place, Pearl."
"The roof shuts out the light, Miss Sybil." And the girl looked at the
great cup, now dull and colourless like a dead thing. "Only in the
sunshines does the Master put out His hand to grasp His cup."
"It is not the real cup, Pearl," said Sybil, incautiously.
"How dare you say so?" shrieked the girl, tearing herself away from
Sybil's grasp. "The vicar said it was the cup of the Master. I doubt you
are one of the evil things its presence makes to fear," and with an
indignant look Pearl moved swiftly down the aisle, murmuring as she
went. At the door she broke into a jubilant chant, and Sybil gathered
that she was recalling some lines of Tennyson which the vicar had
repeated in his lecture:--
"Oh, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail,
All palled in crimson samite, and around
Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes."
Half singing, half reciting, she passed out of the door and brushed by
Leo, who entered at the moment. Like a shadow she faded out of the
church, and left him staring after her. But high and sweet in the
distance rose her voice, singing like a lark.
"What's the matter with her now?" asked Leo as Sybil met him.
"Nothing much. She has a belief that yonder cup is the veritable Holy
Grail, and when I suggested that it was not she grew angry. But what a
memory she has!" added Sybil, linking her arm within that of Leo. "Did
you hear her recite Tennyson's lines? Well, she only heard them once
before."
"I daresay. But she cannot read, and those who can't read have always a
marvelous memory. But the wonder to me is that her poor, cracked brain
can hold anything. I know she's mad about the Grail, as she called that
cup. Mrs Jeal told me that Pearl expects the cup will some day be
snatched up to heaven to be used there. Poor soul!"
"It is a sweet belief, though," murmured Sybil; then, after a pause, she
drew Leo into the side chapel where the crusaders were set stiffly on
their tombs. "We are safe here, Leo. No one will come. Sit down beside
this pillar and let us talk. We have much to say to one another."
"And nothing very pleasant," sighed Leo, as he sat down, and slipped his
arm round the girl's waist. "Oh, Sybil, how foolish I have been getting
into debt and quarrelling with Mrs Gabriel! It will end with my going
away to the war. Indeed, I intended to have gone this week, only I could
not leave you, and besides--" Here Leo hesitated.
"What is it?" she asked, noticing that he looked nervous.
"There is a chance of my debts being paid."
"Mrs Gabriel?"
"No, indeed. At first she said she would pay. Now she has changed her
mind. But Hale has offered to lend me the money."
Sybil looked anxious. "I don't like that," she said decidedly. "It is
not like him to be so generous."
"My dear," said Leo, taking her hand, "you are too hard upon poor Frank.
I have known him now for many years, and it is reasonable enough that he
should be willing to help an old playfellow."
"It is not like him," insisted Miss Tempest. "I hope he is not laying a
trap for you, Leo. He is spiteful enough to do that."
"And when he has caught me in his trap, Sybil?"
She shook her head. "It is easy laughing, but I don't like your
accepting a favour from that cross-grained little man."
"You are uncharitable, my dear."
"I don't want to be. I am sure I am sorry poor Sir Frank is so
afflicted, but I really wish he had a sweeter nature. Besides," her eyes
fell and she began to play with a button on Leo's coat, "he is--I
think--too fond of me."
"Can anyone be too fond of you?" asked Haverleigh, not taking in the
real significance of this remark.
"You do not understand, Leo. I mean that I think he intends to ask me to
be his wife. Now don't be angry, for I am not sure if he will. It is
only a kind of instinct I have that such is his intention."
Haverleigh, confident in his good looks and virile strength, laughed
good-humouredly. "I am not angry, my dear. The idea of that wretched
little creature thinking of marriage!"
"Who is uncharitable now, Mr Haverleigh?"
The young man laughed. "Fairly hit," he said; "but really, Sybil, I
don't think you need trouble about Hale. No man of his build and
weakness would insult a woman by asking her hand in marriage. He is a
queer little creature, but for all his cross-grained temper his heart is
in the right place. I am sorry for him, and I feel his kindness in
offering to help me. To be sure he is well off, but the kindness is all
the same."
"And what about his sister? She is in love with you."
"So Mrs Gabriel says," responded Leo, coolly. "But that is all
nonsense--much the same as your suspicions of Hale. Why, the girl never
opens her mouth to me; she only looks and looks."
"With her soul in her eyes!"
"It must be a dull soul then, for I see no gleam in those eyes of hers."
"You are most unsuspicious, Leo," said Sybil at length. "I have a kind
of feeling that we are on the eve of some trouble. Have you noticed that
until we found out this quiet spot Mrs Gabriel or Sir Frank and his
sister always joined us?"
"I noticed that, but it meant nothing." Leo paused and then continued,
"I know that my mother wants me to marry Edith, but I told her plainly
that I would not, and she has agreed to let me have my own way."
"That is not like her," said Sybil, after a pause. "She always wants to
have _her_ own way."
"I think she is beginning to find me one too many for her, my love. It
is this way, Sybil. I told her that if she went on treating me so badly
I would enlist. That frightened her, and she has been kinder since."
"I don't trust her, no more than I do Sir Frank. Are you going to take
this money?"
"As a loan I am, but I hope to pay it back."
"How are you going to manage?"
"Oh, Pratt has promised to make it right with my mother. He has a
wonderful influence with her. You know he has been her friend for years,
and she has great reliance on his judgment. I told him all my trouble,
and he has promised to help me. It is not the first time he has done so,
Sybil. Several times last year he lent me money."
"I know he is a kind man," said Sybil; "but, Leo, I do wish you--"
He stopped her mouth with a kiss. "I know what you are going to say,"
was his half-laughing, half-serious remark, "and, indeed, my love, I am
not worthy of you. But now I am a man, and I intend to put away all
childish things--by which I mean the follies of youth. I have done
nothing very wrong, Sybil. Indeed, my wickedness has been of the mildest
description. I understood Mrs Gabriel to say that I was her heir, and so
I thought I had a right to spend money. I overstepped the mark, and I
own my fault. I should have been more sensible, but, indeed, Sybil, it
is difficult for a man brought up in luxury to know when to stop. If my
home had only been made more attractive to me, I should never have
behaved so foolishly. But that page of my life is turned down now. It
will close with the payment of this three hundred pounds, and henceforth
I shall try and deserve your love."
"That is right, darling. But don't you think it would be better to get
Mr Pratt to see your mother and induce her to give you the money than
take it from Sir Frank?"
"No, my dear," said Leo, decidedly; "if my mother thinks that I am able
to pay the money myself, she will be afraid lest she will lose me
altogether and be more amenable to reason. I have arranged it all with
Pratt. Hale is to lend me the money next week. I pay my debts. Then I
shall get him to speak to Mrs Gabriel."
"Does Mr Pratt know that Sir Frank proposes to lend you the money?"
"No; I did not tell him that at Frank's special request. I merely said
that I would put off paying the matter for a month. In the meantime he
will speak to my mother."
"It seems all wrong," said Sybil, with a sigh. "I can't help thinking
that you are behaving foolishly."
"I hope not, Sybil. But I must manage Mrs Gabriel somehow. I cannot have
her treating me so badly. Sometimes she really seems to hate me. When my
debts are paid I shall look about and see what I can do to earn my own
living. I am half inclined to enlist in the Yeomanry."
"Leo! Leo! Don't do that!" Sybil seized his arm. "I should lose you."
"My dear, it is the only thing I am fit for. My mother would not let me
have a profession, and I am not clever enough to make money. I should
have gone into the army long ago. Indeed, it was my wish, only Mrs
Gabriel would not consent. I think my father must have come of a
fighting stock, Sybil, as I feel so inclined to be a soldier."
"The Haverleighs were always simple country squires, Leo. I have heard
my father speak of them often. There were no soldiers amongst them!"
"Then I don't know where my aunt got her fierceness. By the way, Sybil,
don't you get mixed by the many different ways I refer to that lady; I
call her my mother, my aunt, and very often Mrs Gabriel."
"I think the last name suits her best," said Sybil, "she is such a hard
woman. Still, she has been kind to you, Leo."
"I don't quite agree with you there," he answered a trifle bitterly. "If
she took me in, she has made me feel my position. No, Sybil, I hope in
some way to make a position for myself. Then Mrs Gabriel may be proud of
me. At present I am only an object of her charity. Let me go for a
soldier, my darling."
"You must wait for a time, Leo," entreated Sybil. "If you are really
bent upon enlisting, I shall not try and dissuade you. But, oh! how
unhappy I shall be when you are in South Africa!"
"Come, come, you will never do for a soldier's wife. Is it not better
for me to be fighting for my country than staying here eating the bread
of idleness? I am sure you would be prouder of me dead on the
battlefield than to see me a hanger-on here."
"Yes," said Sybil bravely, "I should."
"In that case I shall enlist." And after taking her in his arms, he
kissed her tenderly. "I shall be here for another week. Let us make the
best of our time."
Hand in hand they passed from the chapel, but at the door they suddenly
separated. Mrs Gabriel was coming up the steps, and cast a cold smile at
the pair. "I want to see you, Leo, when you can spare the time," she
said.
"I will come with you now," said Haverleigh. "And you, Sybil?"
"I want to find Pearl Darry," said Miss Tempest; "she is offended with
me, and I must make my peace with her. Good-day, Mrs Gabriel!"
"Good-day!" said Mrs Gabriel in her stiffest manner. Then, as Leo walked
down the road beside her, back to the castle, she added, "I understand
that you are engaged, Leo, and without my consent?"
"I am sorry you should be vexed," he said formally; "but I cannot
sacrifice my life's happiness even for you."
"Bless the boy! I don't want you to do that," said Mrs Gabriel, sharply.
"And about this enlisting?"
"I intend to enlist."
Mrs Gabriel drew a long breath, and walked on in silence for a few
moments. "Well," she said at length, "I think it is about the best thing
you could do. Your debts?"
"I shall see that they are paid," said Leo, calmly.
"Oh, indeed! And where will you get the money?"
"From a friend."
Mrs Gabriel again became silent. "I don't think you are treating me
altogether fairly, Leo."
"I am willing to do whatever you think best, mother. But I am ashamed to
live on your charity any longer. However, I promise you one thing. I
shall not enlist for at least a month."
Mrs Gabriel laughed silently. Many things might happen in a month.
CHAPTER VI
TROUBLE
Still anxious to secure Mr Pratt for a son-in-law, Mrs Bathurst resolved
to make some return to his hospitality. Her husband had very little
money, and the lady was unable to give a dinner-party on account of the
cost. Also Pratt had "done things so well"--so she put it--that she was
unwilling to provoke comparisons. Nevertheless, some sort of
entertainment had to be given, and after much reflection and many
consultations with Peggy, it was decided that it should take the form of
a picnic. The scenery around Colester was beautiful, the weather was
fine, and the cost of an open-air entertainment would be comparatively
small. Mrs Bathurst therefore issued cards.
"We must make Mr Pratt one of ourselves," said the energetic lady; "and
although we cannot hope to vie with his luxury, we can at least bestow
what we have with liberal hearts."
What Mrs Bathurst had in the way of food was principally sandwiches--the
cheapest form of nourishment she could think of. As she had decided that
the picnic should take place on the moor, where there were no roads, it
was not necessary to hire vehicles to convey the party to the scene of
revelry. "A good brisk walk will give everyone an appetite," said the
hostess, "and the air will do us all good." Thus it came about that all
those who had partaken of Pratt's hospitality found themselves the
guests of Mrs Bathurst. Her husband, who characterised the picnic as
foolery, was not present.
By a dexterous arrangement the good lady contrived that Peggy should
find herself in the company of Pratt. The little man was as neat and
dapper as ever, and as Peggy strolled beside him over the heather, she
could not but admit that he was a pleasant companion. The principal meal
of the day had been devoured, and Mrs Bathurst's guests had been sent
hungry away. Tea and a limited quantity of sandwiches were scarcely
sufficient for appetites sharpened by the keen moorland air. However,
there was nothing else; and now the company, split up into small
parties, wandered here, there and everywhere. Peggy was with Pratt. He
saw how Mrs Bathurst had manoeuvred to bring this about, and resolved
to make use of the opportunity in a way of which the schemer would not
approve.
"Most beautiful place this, Miss Peggy," said Pratt, glancing round,
"but I fear the company is not to your mind."
"Oh! Mr Pratt, how can you say that!" said poor Peggy, divided between a
desire to keep him at a distance and to avoid giving offence to her
mother. "I am very pleased to be with you."
"Well, I don't know, Miss Peggy. I am not a parson, you know."
Peggy laughed and blushed. Her secret was everybody's property, and it
was well known in Colester that she and Raston were attached to one
another. Even Mrs Bathurst knew, but she was resolved to crush this
affection before it grew too strong for her control. As a matter of fact
it had already passed that stage, but Mrs Bathurst was not aware of
that. "Mr Raston is quite happy with Miss Hale," said Peggy, frankly.
She found Pratt sympathetic and did not mind speaking freely to him.
"And I think Miss Hale would rather be with young Haverleigh," said her
companion, "but he is with Miss Tempest."
"And with Sir Frank Hale."
"Who is the inconvenient third, Miss Peggy? We are all at sixes and
sevens, I fancy. Even Mrs Gabriel and the vicar are badly matched.
However, in a little time I shall ask Mr Raston to join us."
"Not on my account," cried Miss Bathurst, hastily.
"I understand, your mother would not be pleased."
"Mr Pratt!" Peggy bit her lip. "Really, Mr Pratt!"
"My dear young lady," said Pratt, with a twinkle, "do you think that I
flatter myself that a battered old man like myself is your choice? No,
indeed; although your mother would have it so. Like draws to like, and
if I can bring it about you shall be Mrs Raston."
"No chance of that," sighed Peggy. "Mr Raston is too poor!"
"Oh, no. He has three hundred a year of his own, and it is more than
probable that when Mr Tempest dies, Mrs Gabriel will give him the
living. Then why won't your mother consent?"
"She was not opposed to my engagement until--until--" Peggy hesitated.
"Until I arrived," finished Pratt. "Set your mind at rest, Miss Peggy; I
am not a marrying man; I have seen too much of the world."
Peggy laughed and looked at him. His pleasant face was turned towards
her, and she saw on his cheek a mark she had never noticed before. It
was a tattooed star, very small and placed just under the jawbone.
Unless looked for very closely it was apt to escape notice. But there it
was, and being so close to the man, Peggy saw it very plainly. Perhaps
she saw it the more clearly because Pratt held his head at a particular
angle. He noticed the curiosity in her eyes, and flushed a trifle. He
knew what she was looking at. "I had that done in the South Seas," said
Pratt, rubbing the star; "foolish thing to have had done, but I was a
reckless young sailor then. And see here, Miss Peggy," he rolled up his
sleeve, that of the left arm. Immediately below the elbow there was a
beautifully tattooed snake, half red and half blue. "That was done in
Japan," he said.
"You seem to have been everywhere, Mr Pratt?"
"I have. That is why I have come down here to end my days in peace. I
want everybody hereabouts to like me--you included, Miss Peggy."
"I _do_ like you, Mr Pratt," protested Peggy. "Not, of course, like--"
"I understand. Well, I shall speak to your mother about Mr Raston. Oh,
do not look so afraid, Miss Peggy. I know very well what I am about. I
have managed much more obstinate people in my time. All you have to do
is to look pleased as though you were delighted with me. That will put
your mother on the wrong scent."
"Harold will not like it," objected Peggy, as they returned to join the
others. "Harold is Mr Raston."
"I gathered that from your blush," said Pratt, with a chuckle. "Well,
leave it to me. There is Harold making signals. What is up now?"
Mrs Bathurst informed them as soon as they came within earshot. "Come
here at once, Peggy," she screamed. "Mr Pratt, come here! Mr Raston is
about to take a group with his kodak. It will be a memorial of my
picnic."
The American did not seem pleased. For the moment his usually active
tongue was silent, and he seemed unwilling to form part of the group. "I
do not care about having my likeness taken, Mrs Bathurst," he said.
"But indeed you must--in the group," said the lady, vigorously; "dear Mr
Pratt, do not spoil the little memorial of my picnic."
"It can be taken without me, Mrs Bathurst."
"That would be the play of Hamlet with the Prince left out," replied the
lady, gracefully. "Mrs Gabriel, add your entreaties."
"Oh! Mr Pratt will not listen to me," said Mrs Gabriel, severely, "I
know him of old. He can be obstinate when he chooses."
Pratt laughed but gave her a sly look which made her wince. Strong woman
as she was, there was something about this artless, good-natured little
man which made her turn white and draw her breath in quick gasps. "I
consent to be taken," said Pratt, withdrawing his gaze, "if I am
permitted to arrange the group myself."
"Certainly," said Raston, brightly. He had been exchanging a few words
with Peggy. "Arrange it as you please."
Leo, who had Hale at his elbow, ranged alongside the American. "You know
where to place me," he said softly, and Pratt nodded. It was mainly for
that reason that he wished to arrange the group.
The result of his efforts was that Leo and Sybil were together, much to
the wrath of the baronet and Mrs Gabriel. The others Pratt scattered
anyhow, and placed himself at the back. Raston did not approve of this.
"You can hardly be seen, Mr Pratt," he said. "Please come more forward."
Pratt hesitated, but, catching sight of a cold smile on the face of Mrs
Gabriel, he gave her a defiant look and placed himself in the position
indicated by Mr Raston's outstretched finger. Then the curate adjusted
his kodak and took three pictures. He also had to take a fourth, as Mrs
Bathurst wanted herself to be seen making tea, surrounded by her guests.
"To recall a happy, happy day," she explained.
"You are fond of photography, Raston?" said Pratt, when this was over.
"Very. I have taken pictures all round the place."
"And the other day he took a picture of the cup you gave," put in Sybil.
"I guess that's kind of him," said Pratt, gnawing his lip. "I suppose,"
he was addressing Raston, "that you send copies of these to your
friends?"
"Indeed I do not," replied the curate, cheerily, "I take only a few
copies and place them in an album. Certainly I have given a few to Miss
Bathurst."
"Natural, very natural," said Pratt, gravely; "you must give me one of
the group you took just now." And without waiting for an answer he
turned away. Somehow he seemed relieved to hear that the photographs
were not likely to be sent round the country. And all the time Mrs
Gabriel, who had listened to this conversation, heard it with a cold
smile. She seemed rather pleased that Pratt should be upset, and upset
he was, a remarkable thing in so calm a man.
After a time Leo and Sybil slipped away, and were some distance across
the moor before their absence was noticed. There was no chance of
following them save in the most pointed manner, so Sir Frank, with a
scowl, devoted himself to his sister. She was seated on the heather,
staring after Leo with a despairing look. Frank patted her hand kindly.
"He will come back, Edith," he whispered.
"No," she replied, quietly, "he will never come back. Sybil has taken
him away for ever. Don't worry about me, Frank."
"Oh! as to that," retorted Frank, savagely, "I approve of that no more
than you do. If you want to marry Leo, I wish to make Sybil my wife."
"I am afraid neither of us will get our wishes," said Edith, with a
sigh.
"We'll see about that," muttered Frank; "at all costs I'll stop that
marriage. Sybil must become my wife."
Mrs Gabriel overheard him. "Make your mind easy, Frank," she said, "I
can put an end to this." She cast a look at Pratt. "I could have done so
long ago but for--" She stopped.
"But for what, Mrs Gabriel?"
"Nothing! nothing!" she said hastily. "A matter which does not concern
you, Frank. But it is time to adopt strong measures. Mr Tempest"--she
went to the vicar--"come for a stroll with me. I wish to speak to you."
"About parish matters?" asked the vicar, rather nervously, for he knew
Mrs Gabriel's tongue and temper. "Won't you speak to Raston?"
"It is not about parish matters," said Mrs Gabriel. "It is concerning
your daughter and Leo."
Mr Tempest looked up sharply. "Indeed!" he said, with quite a new note
in his voice. "Nothing wrong, I trust?"
"I shall leave you to judge of that," replied Mrs Gabriel. "Come,
vicar!" and she carried the old man away. Hale started after them
distrustfully.
"What does she intend to do now?" he muttered. "I intend to take my own
way in this matter, and I don't trust her. Too clever by half!"
Meantime Leo and Sybil, not thinking of the envy their happiness caused,
were walking slowly along. Every now and then they would turn and look
at one another and smile. The action seemed childish, but those who are
deeply in love are often nothing but children. Then they came to talk of
their future.
"When are you going away, Leo?" asked Sybil.
"I go to Town next Monday," replied Leo. "I start at seven o'clock for
Portfront, and there take the steamer that leaves at ten."
"And the money for your debts?"
"That will be all right. Frank has promised to give it me this week. But
the queer part is, Sybil, that he will not give me a cheque."
"Why not?" she asked, stopping abruptly.
"I don't know. Some whim on his part. He intends that I shall take it in
sovereigns--yes, the whole three hundred pounds! There is a treasure to
travel with! However, I shall take it to London and pay it into my bank
there. Then I can settle with my creditors by cheque."
"Does he give any reason why he wants you to take it in gold?"
"No! But he is a queer chap, although a kind one. I must take the money
as he chooses to give it. But do you know, Sybil, I believe Hale has the
instincts of a miser, and likes to look at gold. I should not be
surprised if he had a chest of sovereigns in his house. I expect that
is why he gives me specie instead of a cheque or notes."
"I don't like it at all," said Sybil, decisively.
"There you go with your distrust!" said Leo, good-humouredly. "You will
not make allowance for the queerness of poor Frank. Never mind, I will
take the money as he chooses to give it. When my creditors are paid I
shall see about enlisting."
"You have made up your mind to that?"
"Fully. Mrs Gabriel understands as much. And I do not think, Sybil,"
said Leo, bending down, "that you will seek to dissuade me."
Sybil paused for a moment. "No," she said at length, and her voice was
firm, "it is a good thing for you to take up the burden of life, Leo.
Even if you die in South Africa it will be better than that you should
live on the charity of Mrs Gabriel. I admire your spirit."
Leo shook his head sadly. "Don't admire anything about me, dear," he
said. "Long, long ago, I should have earned my own living. I have been a
fool too long. But now, Sybil, I intend to work my hardest for you. I am
sure to get my commission, as there are plenty knocking about; and when
I return, your father will consent to our marriage, and Mrs Gabriel will
forgive me."
"I don't think my father would ever object, Leo," said Sybil. "He would
not care if you had little money. All he asks from anyone who marries me
is that they come of a good stock. He has much family pride, you know."
"Then he will easily be satisfied with the Haverleighs. They have been
established in the place down yonder for centuries. I did not know,
though, that he attached much value to pedigree, Sybil."
"It is his one failing. He would not mind if I married a pauper, so long
as my future husband had good blood in his veins. The one thing he would
not permit would be that I should marry what he calls a 'base-born' man.
But, of course, there is no danger of that."
"No; I think my pedigree will satisfy Mr Tempest. But it is strange that
he should attach such value to race."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Sybil, slowly. "I have a great opinion
of race myself, Leo. But, come," she broke off, "there is my father
waving to me. I wonder what he wants. To go home, I expect."
Mr Tempest did, indeed, want to go home, and, moreover, he seemed by no
means anxious for the company of Leo. Quite different to his usual self,
he was stiff and cold towards the young man. Mrs Gabriel saw this, and
smiled. Not in vain had she adopted the stronger measures of which she
had spoken to Sir Frank. However, she gave Leo no time to talk to the
vicar, but took possession of him and threw him into the company of Miss
Hale. Leo was obliged to talk to the girl, for, although she bored him
greatly, she was too unoffending a creature to hurt. Frank saw how
dexterously Mrs Gabriel had managed, and came up to her. "What have you
been doing?" he asked in a low voice.
"Talking Mr Tempest over to my views about this marriage. Set your mind
at rest, Frank. Leo will never become the husband of Sybil now."
Sure enough matters seemed to be quite in Mrs Gabriel's favour. On
arriving home Mr Tempest had a scene with his daughter, and forbade her
to think any more of Leo. "Had I known of this before, it would not have
gone so far," said the vicar; "but I have been blind. Fortunately, Mrs
Gabriel has opened my eyes. It must stop!"
"I am engaged to Leo Haverleigh," said Sybil, firmly.
"Nothing of the sort!" retorted the vicar. "I won't have it, I tell you.
I do not consider that Leo is a fit husband for you."
"And what is your reason, father?"
"I decline to give it you. Later on I may do so, but not now. Please do
not argue, Sybil. I won't hear a word. You are neither to see Leo again
nor are you to talk to him. I won't have it."
"But, father--"
"That's quite enough, Sybil. Not another word." And, as the girl knew of
the rages into which her father was capable of falling, she said nothing
more at the time lest she might provoke one. But this sudden change of
front on the part of her easy-going father bewildered her.
Leo was also at his wits' end to understand the new state of things.
From the day of the picnic he never had a chance of seeing Sybil alone,
nor was he asked, as formerly, to the Vicarage. Mr Tempest was coldness
itself when they met, and appeared to wish to see as little of him as
possible. Leo asked Mrs Gabriel what was the meaning of these things,
but could get no answer. She only laughed insultingly, and said that Mr
Tempest was of her opinion about this ridiculous marriage. Leo saw Mr
Pratt, and consulted him.
"I guess you'd better leave it to me," said Pratt, who was on the side
of the lovers. "I'll bring Mrs Gabriel to reason."
"But it is more the vicar that needs bringing to reason," argued Leo.
"He has changed wholly towards me."
"Perhaps he has heard of your debts," suggested Pratt, pondering.
"What if he had! He knows that I am not so wild as everyone tries to
make out. No. It is something else. I believe my mother has been saying
something to him about me."
Pratt looked up suddenly, but his face did not change. "I'll see Mrs
Gabriel," he said calmly. "If she has said anything to the vicar likely
to do you harm, I'll get her to tell me. I have known her for many
years, Leo, and she often takes my advice."
"I know. She has the very highest opinion of you, Pratt," said the
innocent Leo; whereat Pratt chuckled.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll speak to Mrs Gabriel about your
debts at the same time."
"No; don't do that!" cried Leo in alarm. "You will only weaken my
position with her. I want to settle these debts without her knowledge.
I can raise the money, as I told you. Later on, when she comes round, I
can get her to give me the sum and settle. She will surely do that when
she hears that I have enlisted."
"I daresay. In fact, I'm sure she will," said Pratt, with his queer
smile. "Who is going to lend you the money meantime?"
"I can't tell you that, Mr Pratt," said Leo, with dignity.
"You might tell it to a worse person," said Pratt, rather offended.
"However, keep your secret; I'll do what I can."
"Don't be offended, Pratt. Indeed, as soon as possible I'll tell you."
"There! There! Don't make a fuss over it," he said testily. "I know you
are not such a fool as people think you are. And to tell you the truth,
Leo, if you can pay these debts independently of Mrs Gabriel, I fancy
she will think all the more of you. I don't offer to help you myself,
because if she asks me I want to be able to say 'no' for reasons which I
will explain later. But I tell you what, Leo. If, when you get these
matters settled and enlist, Mrs Gabriel won't come round, I'll give you
the money myself to repay the loan, and fit you out for South Africa."
"You are indeed a friend," cried Leo, with emotion, and the two men
shook hands. They understood each other very well.
But all this time Leo was pining to get a sight of Sybil. It is true
that he sometimes saw her in the distance; but she was always with her
father, and he could not come near. However, it came about that Sybil
induced Pearl to take a note to Leo. She explained in it that her father
had taken a dislike to the marriage, and that the only chance of things
being arranged lay in Leo going away for a time. Several notes passed
between the lovers, and then their kindly messenger fell ill, but not
before it was understood that Sybil was to leave a note or so in a
certain crack in the chapel wall, which they could use as a post-office.
And out of that subterfuge all the subsequent trouble arose.
Pearl was really ill. She was in the habit of wandering about at night,
and as the wet weather was coming she had been caught on the moor in a
thunderstorm. Now she was laid up with a severe cold. Raston was
particularly anxious about her. Leo met him one day, and the curate was
red with indignation. It seemed he had good cause for it.
"Did you ever hear of anything so wicked, Haverleigh?" he asked.
"What is the matter now?"
"Why, that poor mad child! She is very ill, as you know, but is getting
on all right; Dr James says she is well on the way to recovery. Now Mrs
Jeal took it into her head that the girl was dying, and has been
frightening her with stories of eternal torment. You know, Pearl always
believed that she would go to heaven, and be at the Supper with the
Master, as she calls Our Lord. She never had any doubt. Now these
gruesome stories of Mrs Jeal's have made her doubt if she will be saved.
In fact, she believes now that unless the Master gives her some sign she
will be lost!"
"How cruel of Mrs Jeal," said Leo, angrily.
"Oh! I believe she did it for the best. She is fond of Pearl, and kind
to her. But you know she came from the north, and she holds to that
gloomy Calvinistic religion that has terrified so many people. I gave
her a good talking to, and she has consented to leave Pearl alone. All
the same, she still holds that the child is a lost soul. I have been
trying to pacify the poor creature. She is haunted by terrible fears."
"Show her the cup!" suggested Leo. "She has such a belief in it as the
Holy Grail that it may soothe her."
"A good idea," said the curate. "I will ask Mr Tempest about it. But I
cannot take it to her till Monday. To-morrow I preach in the evening. I
hear you are going up to Town."
"On Monday morning early. When you next hear of me, Raston, I may have
enlisted."
"And a good thing too," said Raston. "But that I am a clergyman I should
have been a soldier. Good-day! Come to church to-morrow."
And to church Leo went to see Sybil in her pew. He also went to the
evening service. On Monday he departed for London. But no one heeded his
going. The village was excited by a rumour that the cup had been stolen.
On hearing the report Mr Tempest went to the church. It was true. The
cup was gone.
CHAPTER VII
A NINE DAYS' WONDER
Ill news spreads like circles on water when a stone is thrown in.
Barker, the old sexton, a white-haired, crabbed sinner, was the first to
discover the loss. He had gone to the chapel at seven in the morning to
make ready the church for early celebration, and on going to the altar
he had noticed that the cup was missing. Nothing else had been touched.
At once the old man had trotted off to see the vicar, and in a quavering
voice related what had taken place, finishing with a hope that he would
not be blamed for the loss.
"You locked the chapel up last night?" asked Mr Tempest, sorely
distressed, for indeed this was sacrilege and not a common robbery.
"'Deed and I did!" replied Barker, sturdily. "And I took the key home
with me. My wife saw me place it on its nail just inside the door."
"Was the church door locked?"
"Fast locked, sir. And all the windows fastened. I went round the chapel
to see if I could find any sign."
"When did you leave the church last night, Barker?"
"At nine o'clock, after I made everything right for the night. It was
after evening service, if you mind, Mr Tempest. Then I went home and put
the key in its place. My Joan and I went then to a neighbour for a bit
of supper. We got home again about eleven."
"And the key was still on its nail?"
"Well, sir," said Barker, scratching his white locks, "I didn't look.
But it was there this morning; so it could not have been taken away.
Besides, my Joan locked the door of our cottage. No one could have got
in."
"The cup was on the altar when you left the church last night?"
"On the altar where it ought to be. But this morning it's nowhere to be
seen. I hope you don't think it's my fault, sir."
"No," replied Mr Tempest. "I cannot see that you are to blame. But this
is a very serious matter, Barker. I did not know that there was anyone
in Colester who would have committed such a crime."
"It's terrible," sighed the sexton. "And what that poor lass Pearl will
say I don't know."
"She must not hear of it," said Raston, who entered at the moment. "She
thinks so much of the cup that in her present state of health its loss
may do her much harm."
"Is she very ill, Raston?"
"Yes, sir. Much worse than she was last night. But Mrs Jeal is giving
her all attention, and I have sent Dr James. But about this loss, sir?"
"We had better go to the chapel, Raston, and see with our own eyes."
Followed by Barker, still protesting that it was not his fault, the
vicar and the curate went up to the church. It was surrounded with a
crowd of people, for the news had spread quickly. Some looked in at the
door, but no one had ventured to enter, as each one was afraid if he did
an accusation might be levelled against him. Mr Tempest told Harris, the
local policeman, to keep back the crowd, and entered the chapel followed
by his curate. All was as Barker had said. There was the altar covered
with its white cloth, and with the withered flowers still in the vases.
The gilded crucifix was also there; but not a sign of the cup. It had
vanished entirely. Tempest sighed.
"A terrible thing for the man who stole it," he muttered. "This is no
common robbery. Raston, let us examine the church."
The two went round it carefully, but could find nothing for a long time
likely to enlighten them as to the cause of the robbery. Then in the
lepers' window, a small opening at the side of the chancel, Raston
discovered that some of the stones had been chipped. "I believe the
church was entered through this window," said Raston, but the vicar was
inclined to doubt.
"The window is so small that no grown man could have got through," he
said.
They went outside, and certainly against the wall and immediately under
the window were marks, and scratches of boots, as though someone might
have climbed the wall. Also the sides of the window were broken, as
though a way had been found through. The lepers' window was so small
that no care had been taken to put in glass or iron bars. Besides, no
one had ever expected that the chapel would be robbed. In all its
centuries of history nothing up till now had ever been taken from it.
And now the most precious thing of all had vanished!
"And during my occupation of the Vicarage," said Mr Tempest. "It is
really terrible!"
However, in spite of the loss, he held the service as usual, and as a
great number of people, attracted by the news of the robbery, had come,
the chapel was quite full. Service over, Tempest returned to the
Vicarage, and found Mr Pratt waiting to see him.
"This is a nice thing!" said Pratt, looking annoyed, as well he might,
seeing that his magnificent gift had disappeared. "I did not know that
you had thieves in the parish, Mr Tempest!"
"Neither did I," groaned the vicar, sitting down. "Hitherto we have been
singularly exempt from crime. And now one of the very worst sort has
befallen us! Not a mere robbery, Mr Pratt. Sacrilege, sir, sacrilege!"
The American turned rather white as Tempest spoke. He had not regarded
the robbery save as a common one. The idea that it was sacrilege placed
it in a new light. Yet Mr Pratt was sharp enough to have guessed this
before. The wonder was that he had not done so.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, after a pause.
"Raston has sent for the police at Portfront. I expect the inspector
will come over this afternoon."
Pratt shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think much of the police," he
said. "The metropolitan detectives are stupid enough; but the provincial
police--oh, Lord! I beg your pardon, Mr Tempest; I forgot myself."
"No matter, no matter," said Tempest, wearily. "I can think of nothing
save our great loss. And your gift, too, Mr Pratt! Terrible!"
"Well," said the American, cheerfully, "if this cup can't be found, I
guess I must find you another one."
"The cup _shall_ be found," cried the vicar, vehemently. "The culprit
must belong to this parish, else he would not have known the lepers'
window in the chapel. We shall find the guilty person yet, Mr Pratt."
"I hope so," said Pratt, with another shrug; "but he seems to have got
away very cleverly. I shall see you this afternoon when you interview
the inspector, Mr Tempest. I should like to have a hand in the
discovery."
"Certainly, certainly. Who but you, the giver of the cup, should wish to
help? Come here this afternoon, Mr Pratt."
As Pratt left the Vicarage he met Sybil, who looked sad. "Don't take on
so, Miss Tempest," he said; "we'll find the cup yet."
"I was not thinking so much of that," explained Sybil; "but this morning
my poor dear Leo went away."
"When is he coming back?"
"Towards the end of next week. I wonder who can have taken the cup?"
Pratt sneered, an unusual thing for so good-natured a man. "No doubt the
Portfront police will tell us," he said; "but I haven't much opinion of
law officers myself, Miss Sybil. I once lost a lot of gems in London,
and the thief was never found. Are you fond of gems? Come to my house
and I'll show you my collection. I have several thousand pounds' worth."
"Is it not dangerous to keep them in your house after this robbery?"
Pratt laughed. "I don't think a thief would steal them so easily as the
cup!" he laughed. "I have a good dog and a capital revolver. No, Miss
Sybil, I can look after my property well, I assure you."
When he went away Sybil sighed and sought her room. The departure of Leo
had left her very sad. She did not know what would become of him. He
would pay his debts and then enlist for South Africa. In that case she
would not see him again for months. Perhaps never--for it might be that
some bullet would lay him low on the veldt. However, for the sake of her
father, she strove to assume a light-hearted demeanour. The vicar felt
the loss of the cup keenly. And although Sybil thought he had treated
her hardly in her love affair, she laid all thoughts of self aside so as
to comfort him in his trouble.
As for Pratt, he walked back to his own house. At the foot of the Castle
Hill he met Mrs Gabriel, who seemed to be in a great state of
indignation. As usual, her anger was directed against Leo.
"He came to me last night and said that he was going up to London to pay
his debts. This morning he went off at seven without taking leave. Now,
Mr Pratt, you have been giving him the money to pay his debts."
"Indeed I have not, Mrs Gabriel," said Pratt, quite prepared for this
question. "I have not given him a sixpence."
"Then where did he get so large a sum?" asked the lady, anxiously.
"I don't know. He told me that someone had lent it to him."
"A likely story! As if anyone here would trust him with money without a
guarantee! Mr Pratt--" Here Mrs Gabriel stopped and her face went white.
A thought had struck her and she was about to speak. But she saved
herself in time and stared at her companion.
"What is the matter?" said Pratt, anxiously. He thought she would faint,
a weakness he had never hitherto associated with Mrs Gabriel.
"Nothing," she replied in a strangled voice. "But Leo--I must see
Frank," and without another word she hurried away.
Pratt stared after her as he could not conjecture what she meant. Then
he shrugged his shoulders and went back to The Nun's House. That same
afternoon he called again at the Vicarage, and there found Mr Tempest in
consultation with a grey-haired man whom he introduced as Inspector
German. The police officer, who had a shrewd face with keen eyes, nodded
in a friendly manner. "I understand you gave this cup to the chapel, Mr
Pratt," he said. "Pity it is lost."
"A great pity," replied Pratt, who was making a thorough examination of
the man, and now seemed much more at ease than when he had entered. "I
hope the thief has gone away, however. I have in my house several
thousand pounds' worth of gems, and I don't want him to come after
them."
"How do you know it was a man?" asked German, quietly.
"I don't know," responded the American, with a stare and a laugh. "I
only speak as others do. For my part, I believe that there were two
people concerned in the robbery--a man and a boy."
"Certainly a boy," replied Tempest, looking up. "No one but a small boy
could have forced himself through that window."
"Then you don't think, Mr Tempest, that a woman can have had anything to
do with the matter?"
Tempest stared. The idea seemed ridiculous. "I do not think a woman
would commit so wicked an act," he said stiffly.
"Oh, as to that," interposed Pratt, "women are as wicked as men, and
worse when the fit takes them. But I see what Mr Inspector means. He has
heard of Pearl Darry's devotion to the cup."
"It was not Pearl!" cried Mr Tempest, indignantly. "I am sure of that.
Why, the poor child regarded that cup as something too holy to be
touched--as it was," added the vicar, reverently.
"Well," said German, after a pause, "I have been talking to your
villagers about her. It seems that she was always haunting the chapel
and looking at the cup. She might have been seized with a desire to have
it for her very own. She is insane, I believe, and insane people have
very mad ideas. Also she is small and could easily have forced herself
through the lepers' window, of which she would know the position."
Pratt looked with contempt at the officer. He was even more stupid than
he had given him credit for. "You can rest easy, Mr Inspector," he said.
"It was not Pearl who stole my cup. She has been ill in bed for the last
few days and unable to move, as Mrs Jeal and Dr James will tell you."
"I must make certain of that myself," said the inspector. "Will you come
with me, Mr Pratt?"
"Not I," replied the American. "I think you are going on a wild-goose
chase. The best thing for you to do, Mr Inspector, is to see if any
vagabonds have been in the village lately."
"I have already done so," replied German, coolly; "and the villagers
assure me that no stranger has been seen hereabouts for some days.
However, I am willing to give this girl the benefit of the doubt. But I
must see her."
As Pratt still refused to come and Tempest was unwilling to call at the
cottage of Mrs Jeal on such an errand, the inspector went himself. He
found no difficulty in entering, as Raston was at the door. All the
same the curate was indignant on hearing the accusation. He took German
into the sitting-room, but refused--and in this he was backed up by the
doctor--to let the inspector enter the bedroom of the sick girl. Not
that German desired to do so after an interview with Mrs Jeal. She was
most indignant at the slur cast upon the character of the girl she
called her adopted daughter. There was a scene, and Mrs Jeal proved
herself to be more than equal to the official from Portfront.
"I never heard anything so wicked in my life," cried Mrs Jeal. "The poor
child may be mad, but not mad enough to take what is not her own. I
wonder at you, sir, that you should come here on such an errand."
"My duty is clearly before me," replied the inspector, stiffly. "Is the
girl really and truly ill?"
"You can take my word for that, Mr German," said Raston. "Or, if you do
not believe me, here is Dr James!"
"Ill!" repeated the doctor, when the question was put to him. "She had a
bad attack of inflammation of the lungs, and she is worse this morning
than I have ever seen her. I do not wish her disturbed, Mr Inspector."
"She could not have gone out last night to the chapel, doctor?"
"Not without the risk of being dead this morning," replied James, dryly.
"Besides, Pearl Darry is not a thief. No, sir. Whosoever stole that cup,
it was _not_ my patient."
"And I would have you know," cried Mrs Jeal, with her arms akimbo, "that
I sat beside her the most of last night, and not one step did she stir
off the bed."
"Ah, well," said German, who could not go against this evidence, "it is
very plain that I am in the wrong. Unless--"
"There's no _unless_ about it, sir," cried Mrs Jeal. "Pearl wasna oot o'
this hoose;" in her excitement she was falling into the Scotch speech of
her childhood. "I wonder at ye, I do that! Hoots, awa' wi' ye!"
Baffled in this quarter, the inspector took his way into the village.
First he examined the chapel. Then he started out to make inquiries. For
quite three days he exasperated everyone in the village with his
questions and suspicions. But for all his worry he was unable to get at
the truth. No tramps had been to the village. Old Barker proved his
innocence with the assistance of a wrathful wife, and there was not a
single person to whom the well-meaning but blundering inspector could
point as likely to have stolen the cup. Finally, he was obliged to state
that he could do nothing, and withdrew himself and his underlings from
Colester, much to the relief of the villagers, whom he had grievously
offended by his unjust suspicions. The cup had vanished as though it had
been swallowed up by the earth, and no one was able to say who had taken
it.
"A grievous loss," sighed Mr Tempest, when he became resigned. "But I
sorrow not so much for the theft of the cup as for the awful sacrilege
of which the thief has been guilty." And he took occasion to refer to
the terrible deed in a wrathful sermon. The villagers shook in their
shoes when they heard of the ills likely to befall the thief. But not
one was able to say who was guilty.
For a whole week things went on much as usual, and the excitement died
away. Leo was still in London, and, through Pratt, Sybil had heard from
him. He had seen his creditors and had settled all his debts. He was now
thinking about enlisting. Before he could do so, however, Sybil sent a
message recalling him to Colester to defend his good name.
It so happened that Barker held his tongue for some time, but when the
first effects of the fright lest he might be accused passed away, he
began to talk. The old man was given to babbling in his cups. Thus it
came about that he mentioned that he believed Mr Haverleigh had taken
the cup. It seemed that Barker had seen Leo near the chapel, as he was
leaving it about half-past nine. Mr Haverleigh, said the old man, had
seemed to shun recognition, and had hurried past him. Not thinking
anything of the matter, Barker had left him near the chapel door. Now,
however, he hinted that Leo might have had some reason to be there at so
untoward an hour. Also, he had gone away the next morning early. It was
well known in Colester that the young man was in debt, and that his
mother had refused to pay his debts. What, then, was more likely, people
argued, than that Leo should have stolen the cup, should have taken it
up to London before the loss was discovered, and should have sold it to
pay his debts? In a few hours this sorry tale was all over the place,
and so came to Sybil's ears. It was her father who heard it, and her
father who told her.
"But surely you do not believe it!" cried the girl, when the accusation
was made. "You have known Leo all these years! Whatever you may have
against him, father, you know that he would never commit so wicked an
act."
"I say nothing until I hear what _he_ has to say," replied the vicar,
who, for some reason, seemed to be biased against Leo. "But you must
admit that it was strange he should be near the chapel at so late an
hour. And we know that he is deeply in debt. Mrs Gabriel told me herself
that he owed three hundred pounds. In a moment of madness--"
"I won't hear a word against Leo!" interrupted Sybil, pale but resolute.
"Not if an angel came down to accuse him would I believe him guilty! How
could he have got the key? And if he did not get the key, how could he
have forced himself through that small window?"
"I say nothing until I hear his defence," said the vicar, obstinately;
"but the whole affair is highly suspicious."
"I never knew you to be unjust before, father," cried Sybil. "Mrs
Gabriel has infected you with her dislike of Leo. I shall say nothing
myself, although I could say more than you think. But I shall send at
once to Leo, and he shall come back to rebut this wicked accusation."
Without listening to another word, Sybil ran off to see Pratt, who was
equally indignant. "It is disgraceful," he said furiously. "Leo never
would do such a thing, never! Be comforted, my dear. I'll ride over to
Portfront this very day and send a wire to him."
And this he did without delay. More than that, he defended Leo heartily
when he returned; so did Raston. Hale kept silent. But the majority of
the villagers were against the young man. Leo returned in disgrace.
CHAPTER VIII
HAVERLEIGH'S DEFENCE
Thanks to the care of Dr James, and the nursing of Mrs Jeal, the sick
girl took a turn for the better. In a remarkably short space of time she
began to improve, and when Leo arrived back in Colester she was on a
fair way of recovery. Although the doctor did not like Mrs Jeal, he
could not but admit that no mother could have been kinder than the
midwife. She waited hand and foot, day and night, on Pearl, and refused
to let anyone take her place, even when she was worn out with watching.
In the middle of her trouble she was called away to London.
One day shortly after the theft of the cup she received a telegram from
Town informing her that her father was seriously ill, and that she was
to come up at once if she wanted to see him alive. Now, if there was one
strong feeling Mrs Jeal possessed it was love for her father, of whom
she often spoke. Much as she liked Pearl, she was not prepared to stay
beside her in the face of such a summons. The old man might die if she
delayed.
"I can get Joan Barker in to nurse Pearl," she said to the doctor, "and
go at once to London. I may be away a week or two."
"Humph!" said James, running his eye over the telegram. "I suppose you
must go; the matter seems urgent. Mrs Barker is not so good a nurse as
you, though."
"But Pearl is much better, doctor," said Mrs Jeal, anxiously.
"Yes, I'll pull her through. Well, pack your traps, Mrs Jeal. Myself and
Mr Raston will attend to Pearl with the assistance of Mrs Barker. You
must leave me some address, though, in case anything goes wrong during
your absence. Not that I think anything will; Pearl is mending rapidly."
Mrs Jeal gave an address in a humble Battersea street, and in a few
hours was ready for the road. She took a tender leave of Pearl, to whom
she appeared to be sincerely attached, and that same morning left for
Portfront by a carrier's waggon. When she departed the village was still
filled with anxiety regarding the loss of the cup.
As has been said before, no railway had yet opened up the solitudes of
Colester and King's-meadows. But those who wished to get quickly to
London took the steamer from Portfront, and in a few hours came to
Worthing, at which place a train was easily procurable. Mrs Jeal took
this route, and having started early she arrived in Town that same
night. She sent a wire telling of her arrival to Dr James. He showed it
to Sir Frank Hale.
"Quick work," said James; "yet we are far enough away from the world
here."
"That's true," replied the baronet. "So Mrs Jeal has gone to Town! I
saw her at Portfront when I was there yesterday morning. It is not often
she goes to Town. I suppose she does not wish to lose the money."
"The money, Hale? What do you mean?"
"Why, it seems, from what Mrs Jeal told me, that her father is not badly
off, and if he dies she will come into a tidy bit of money. There are
other relatives, though, and she was afraid lest they should get the old
man to leave the fortune to them."
"Fortune!" said James, with a smile; "a large word for a small legacy."
"I don't know so much about that," responded the cripple, snappishly.
"From what the woman told me, her father is well off. He was a porter or
something in a stockbroker's office, and dabbled in mines himself. It
seems he was lucky in his speculations and made money. By the way,
James, has Haverleigh turned up yet?"
"No, but I heard that Mr Pratt had sent a telegram to him. I expect he
will wonder what is the matter that Pratt should ask him to come back."
"Not he!" growled Hale. "He knows well enough."
"Why, Hale, you don't believe he stole the cup?"
The cripple remained silent for a time. "It is a difficult thing for me
to say," he finally remarked. "You know, James, that my sister Edith is
deeply in love with the man. I don't like him myself; I never did. But
if he would marry my sister I should not decline the alliance. I put her
happiness before my own feelings. Well, under the circumstances, I
really am not prepared to give an opinion. I know that Leo was in debt,
and it is common talk that Mrs Gabriel refused to pay his debts; yet she
informed me that he went up to London to settle them. Now, he must have
got the money from somewhere, and who would trust him?"
"It looks black against him, I confess," replied James, shaking his
head; "still, I cannot believe that Haverleigh would sink to being a
common thief. You will see when he returns that he will be able to
explain."
"If he ever _does_ return," growled Hale, doubtfully.
"He will. Why, Miss Tempest believes in him, and he must come back if
only to justify her faith. I believe those two are in love with one
another, Hale. Well, they will make a handsome couple."
"He will have to get back his good name first," retorted Hale,
jealously. "And as to there being anything between them--I don't believe
it. Good-day, James. Don't go spreading cock-and-bull stories."
As the baronet walked off the doctor looked after him with a smile of
contempt. He knew that Hale was madly in love with the vicar's daughter,
and that he regarded Leo as a too successful rival. "You'll be delighted
if the poor chap comes to harm," muttered James; "you are a viper! But I
am sure Haverleigh will clear himself. A girl like Sybil Tempest is not
likely to be deceived in the character of the man she loves. I would
rather believe her than you, Sir Frank Hale!" And James, who had no
great love for the spiteful little cripple, walked away to see Pearl.
By this time the opinion was that Leo would not return. It was positive,
said the gossips, that he had stolen the cup in order to procure money
for the payment of his debts. The most likely thing was that he would
clear out of the country.
"What fools these people are," said Pratt, who heard this. "If the man
intended to leave the country he certainly would not pay his debts. Only
a heaven-born ass would do that. He would take the money himself and
leave his creditors unpaid." But the gossips did not see matters in that
light. They were bent upon thinking the worst of Leo.
All this time Mrs Gabriel said nothing, but remained shut up in the
castle. She knew well enough what was being said about Leo, and could
not bear to face anyone, the more particularly as she did not know how
to defend him. She denied herself to everyone, even to Pratt, although
he called several times to interview her on behalf of her nephew. The
young man had a strong defender in Pratt. He went about everywhere
insisting on Haverleigh's innocence. In this opinion he was supported by
Sybil, by the curate, and, strange to say, by Mrs Bathurst.
"The whole thing is absolute nonsense," said Mrs Bathurst. "Why should
Mr Haverleigh be such a fool? Mrs Gabriel would have paid his debts in
the long run. And then if he had not wished to pay them himself, he
could have enlisted and slipped away to Africa without anyone being the
wiser. Then there's another thing. He would not commit a crime for such
a purpose. If he was in difficulties before, he would not make them
worse by putting himself within reach of the law." All of which was
common-sense, although Leo's enemies were too much bent on thinking the
worst of him to accept such a reasonable view.
It was while matters were in this state that Leo Haverleigh returned. He
drove up to the castle one night without informing anyone of his coming.
Mrs Gabriel was amazed when he presented himself before her. He looked
bright and cheerful, not at all like a man who had been accused of a
sordid crime. But it must be remembered that Leo knew nothing of his new
reputation. All he knew was that Pratt, at the instance of Sybil, had
recalled him to Colester. He thought that this telegram had to do with
some new difficulty with regard to his love affairs.
"Good evening, mother," he said as he marched into the room where Mrs
Gabriel was sitting. "I have returned, you see."
"And are you not ashamed?" cried Mrs Gabriel, rising, with a wrathful
expression. "I thought some feeling of decency would have kept you
away."
"Oh, come now, mother," returned Leo, trying to keep his temper, "I am
not so bad as all that. If I have been foolish and extravagant, surely
you can forgive. Besides, my debts are paid. I am a free man."
"You won't be a free man long," said Mrs Gabriel, grimly. "I am willing
to do what I can for you, badly as you have treated me. But I cannot
condone a felony! That is out of the question."
Leo stared and sat down. "You use very extraordinary words," he said at
length. "I never heard that a man who was in debt could be called a
felon. Come, mother," he went on, trying to be amiable--a difficult task
with a woman like this. "Don't use big words for a trifle. I intended to
enlist, but I thought I would come down first to see you and talk the
matter over. You have been kind to me and I do not want to part in
anger. Let us arrange matters in a kindly spirit."
Mrs Gabriel looked at him aghast at his boldness. "How dare you speak to
me like this," she cried. "Are you not aware that everyone in Colester
is talking of your crime?"
"Crime!" Leo started to his feet. "What crime?" He looked bewildered.
"As if you didn't know! I wonder you have the impertinence to come back
here! How much did you sell the cup for?"
Leo still looked puzzled. "Cup!" he echoed. "What cup?"
Mrs Gabriel grasped him by the shoulders and shook him, her eyes blazing
with anger. "You are absolutely shameless," she cried. "I mean the cup
which Mr Pratt presented to the chapel, and you know too! It has been
stolen, and _you_ are the thief."
Haverleigh stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Is
this a joke, mother?" he said at length. "If so, it is a very poor
one."
"It is not a joke," retorted Mrs Gabriel, still angry. "The cup was
missing on the very morning you went up to London. You stole it, Leo,
and took it away to pay your debts. I never--"
"Nor did I!" cried Haverleigh, now beginning to lose his temper. "Who
dares to say such a thing about me?"
"The whole village says it, and everyone believes it."
"Does Sybil?"
"I don't know; nor do I care. And so far as she is concerned, you need
not think to marry her. Mr Tempest will never let his daughter become
the wife of a--"
"Stop!" cried Leo, before she could utter the shameful word. "How dare
you call me by a foul name? I know perfectly well you hate me; but you
have no right to believe that I did this thing. I know that Sybil
believes me guiltless. She would never credit the man she loves with
such a contemptible crime. And Pratt believes in me also. He sent me a
telegram asking me to come back. I thought it had to do with some
trouble you had made over my engagement to Sybil. I never expected this.
How dare you accuse me of such a crime?"
"The whole village accuses you," said Mrs Gabriel, passionately. "You
have paid your debts. I know you have. Where did you get the money? Not
from me--not from Pratt, for I asked him. And Barker saw you lurking
about the chapel on Sunday night at a late hour. What were you doing
there if it was not to steal? Oh, shame upon you, Leo! How can you
stand there and deny your guilt?"
"Because I am not guilty!" cried Leo, furiously. "I tell you I did not
steal the cup. I did not even know that it was lost. I _was_ near the
chapel on that night and at that hour. I can explain why I was there."
"Explain then," said Mrs Gabriel, with a stamp.
"Not to you, and not until I have thought over my position. Everyone
seems to have judged me guilty without giving me an opportunity of
defending myself."
"You cannot," muttered Mrs Gabriel. "You dare not!"
The scorn of her speech carried Leo beyond all bounds of prudence. He
had not intended to defend himself until he had consulted with Pratt.
The situation was so unpleasant and dangerous that he wanted an older
and wiser head than his own to deal with the matter. But Mrs Gabriel's
taunt made him forget his resolutions. "I dare, and I can!" he burst
out. "I went to the chapel to meet Sybil. Her father would not let us
see one another, so we had to do so by stealth. I was going away on
Monday morning, and she wished for a meeting, as I did myself. In her
pew she left a note, and she let me know by signs during the service
that she had done so. I looked in the vicar's pew after the service was
over, and found that she asked me to meet her at the door of the chapel
shortly after nine. I was there, and I saw old Barker going away. I
think he saw me, but as I did not wish to attract attention, I kept out
of his way as much as possible. Sybil came about half-past nine, perhaps
later, and we had a talk. Then I took her back to the Vicarage, and
returned here to sleep. I was on my way to Portfront by seven in the
morning. That is all I know."
"A likely story," sneered Mrs Gabriel. "I do not believe one word of
it."
Leo looked at her with great dignity. "If you do not choose to believe
me I cannot make you," he said; "but from this moment all is at an end
between us. God knows why you hate me so. I have done nothing to deserve
it. What I have told you is the truth. Sybil can vouch for it. I have
some hesitation in asking her to do so, as she will have to say that she
was alone with me at that late hour, and you know well what the gossips
will say. Still, if I am in danger of arrest, she will come forward,
although I would rather suffer myself than that she should be lightly
spoken of. I shall see her, and her father. For some reason best known
to you, Mrs Gabriel, Mr Tempest has taken a dislike to me. But he is a
just man, and I am sure he does not believe me guilty."
"You'd better see him and ask," said Mrs Gabriel, tartly. "I say again
that I don't believe your explanation. Where did you get the money to
pay your debts if it was not from selling the cup?"
"I borrowed it," retorted Leo, after a pause. "I did not intend to tell
you, but it seems I must, in order to clear my character. You would not
help me, and Pratt was not ready to do so. I daresay if I had pressed
him he would have helped me, but I did not think it right he should pay
for my folly. I borrowed the money, if you must know, from Frank Hale."
Mrs Gabriel, who had seated herself, looked at the young man
indignantly.
"Why will you tell these lies?" she said, trying to speak calmly. "I had
an idea that Hale might have assisted you, and I went to see him. He
absolutely denies that he lent you a penny."
Leo looked bewildered. "He denies the debt," said he. "Why he has my
acknowledgment! He gave me the three hundred pounds in gold on Sunday
morning. I packed it in a Gladstone bag, and took it to London with me.
There I paid it into my bank, and gave my creditors cheques for--"
"In gold!" burst out Mrs Gabriel, contemptuously. "Is it likely that in
these days a man would pay such a large sum otherwise than by cheque?
Why, if you said notes it would be more reasonable, but gold--bah!"
"I tell you he did," said Leo, now thoroughly angry. "I wondered myself
at the time, and I mentioned to Sybil how inconvenient it was. I asked
Hale for notes, for a cheque, he refused both, and said I must take the
money as he chose to give it, or not at all. He gave it to me in three
bags, each containing a hundred sovereigns. I paid that into my London
bank."
"Oh, I daresay you did," sneered Mrs Gabriel. "But you should have got a
better price for the cup."
"You still believe me guilty," cried Leo, recoiling.
"I do. Hale denies that he paid you the money."
"I shall see him about it to-morrow," said Leo. "He will not dare to
deny what is the truth. And I leave the castle this very night, Mrs
Gabriel. I shall never call you 'mother' again. You are cruel and
wicked. Tell me why you hate me so."
Mrs Gabriel's eyes flashed. "If I told you that--" she began, then
closed her mouth and turned away.
"Then you _do_ hate me?"
"Yes. With all my soul!" She turned on him like a fury. "I have hated
you from the moment you came into my house. All these years I have been
on the point of turning you out. Go now, and never darken my doors
again. I was a fool to have anything to do with you. Go! Go!"
For a moment Leo stood bewildered at her furious speech. He thought she
was mad, for he could not conceive why she should speak so. It was
useless to talk or to remonstrate, or to seek an explanation. He looked
at her for a moment, then, without a word, he walked away. In another
quarter of an hour he had left the castle, bag and baggage.
"Thank God!" cried Mrs Gabriel when alone. "I am rid of him at last!"
CHAPTER IX
A BAD REPUTATION
Pratt sat alone in his library. He was not reading, for although he
had many books he rarely looked into one of them. He collected rare
editions, he indulged in gorgeous bindings, and placed all his
gatherings on shelves behind glass doors. It was the look of the thing
Pratt liked. If his collection had been so many volumes of blank pages
he would have been just as well pleased.
As the evening was cold there was a fire in the steel grate. The room
looked comfortable and luxurious. It was decorated in dark red, with
bookcases of rosewood, and many busts of celebrated men. On the desk
stood a reading lamp, and this was the only light in the room. Before
the desk sat Pratt. He was playing with a small pile of precious stones
which he had shaken out of a leathern belt. The jewels gleamed in the
light with rainbow hues, and Pratt fingered them with loving care,
recalling where each one had been bought and found. He was crazy about
his gems, but never showed them to anyone. Moreover, in addition to his
liking for such things, it was a portable way of carrying about his
wealth.
The door opened softly and a servant entered. Pratt did not turn his
head, for he knew the footstep. But when he heard that Leo wished to
see him, he poured the jewels back into the belt, flung it into a drawer
and told Adam--that was the man's name--to admit Mr Haverleigh. Adam was
a tall, soldierly looking man, of the fair Saxon type. He had been with
Mr Pratt for years, knew all his secrets and was absolutely devoted to
him. As well he might be, for Pratt had once saved his life. Adam never
forgot the obligation, and was Pratt's devoted slave.
"Hullo, Leo!" said Pratt, rising, when the young man entered the room.
"Where did you come from?"
"From London, if you want to be precise," said Leo, after shaking hands.
"My bag is in the hall, Pratt."
"What? Have you not been to the castle?"
"I have been there, and I have come away. In fact, Pratt, she has turned
me out at last. I always knew that it would come to this."
As Leo sat down Pratt frowned, and when he frowned he did not look
pleased. "Ah!" said he, calmly, "so she has turned you out--on account
of this theft, I suppose?"
"Yes. It is the first I ever heard of it!" said Leo, looking up. "Your
wire said nothing about such an accusation. I don't suppose you could
very well have mentioned it in a telegram. However, Mrs Gabriel insisted
that I had stolen the cup and sold it in London in order to pay my
debts. We had a few words on the subject and parted. I am now here to
ask you for a bed!"
"My dear fellow, you shall stay here as long as you please. Let me ring
for Adam to bring you some supper!" and Pratt touched the bell.
"A few sandwiches and a glass of port will be sufficient," said Leo. "I
am not in the humour to eat. By the way," as Adam entered, "I see he has
got back?"
"Who? Adam? Yes. Where did you meet him?"
"At Portfront," said Leo, with a nod to Adam, who smiled. "He told me he
had been up to London on your business. I gave him a lift part of the
way. Didn't I, Adam?"
"I shouldn't have got home otherwise, sir," said Adam, respectfully, and
departed to get food for his benefactor. Pratt seemed pleased that his
servant was so friendly with Leo. He had a great opinion of Adam's
intelligence. Also, Adam was a power in the house--but Leo did not know
that. Later on, he learned all about it, to his great astonishment.
"Come now," said Pratt, when Leo had eaten and had finished a glass or
two of port. "Tell me about this cup. _Did_ you take it?"
"I certainly did not!" said Leo, stiffly. "I wonder at your asking me
such a question, Pratt! I am not a thief!"
His host laughed somewhat nervously. "I only wanted to be sure, my dear
lad," he said. "Don't get angry with your best and only friend."
"I have another friend," said Leo, looking up from the cigar he was
cutting, "and that is Sybil. She does not believe that I am guilty."
"Have you seen her, then?"
"No. But I do not want to see her in order to know that. She loves me,
Mr Pratt, and would never believe me guilty. No; not though the evidence
was twice as strong against me!"
"The evidence _is_ strong," said Pratt, rubbing his chin. "You were seen
at the chapel, and--"
"And I have paid my debts," finished Leo. "So I have, and I can explain
how I paid them; also my movements on that night." And he forthwith
related to Pratt the story he had already told Mrs Gabriel. The man
believed him much more readily than the woman. But then Pratt liked Leo,
and Mrs Gabriel--as she had shown plainly--hated him with all the
intensity of her stern and cruel nature.
"You say that Hale lent you the money?" asked Pratt.
"As I told you--in gold."
"And he now denies that he did so?"
"So Mrs Gabriel says. But I shall see for myself to-morrow."
Pratt reflected, staring into the fire. "It seems to be a conspiracy,"
he said slowly. "I wonder what his game is?"
Leo remembered that Sybil had also been uncomfortable when she heard
that Hale intended to lend him the money. A thought flashed into his
mind as Pratt spoke. "I believe that Hale is in love with Sibyl," said
he.
"Humph! And his sister Edith is in love with you."
Leo coloured a little at this very direct remark. "I believe she is,"
said he, with an embarrassed laugh; "but I assure you, Pratt, the
feeling is not reciprocal. The only woman I have ever loved, whom I
shall ever love, is Sybil Tempest. And the course of our true love does
not run smooth," he finished, with a sigh.
"A conspiracy," repeated Pratt, who was not paying much attention to
what Leo was saying. "Yes! I believe it to be one. By lending you that
money Hale hoped to get you into his power, so as to induce you to give
up Sibyl to him and marry Edith."
"If he ever did have so ridiculous an idea," said Leo, angrily, "he has
thrown away the fruits of it by denying the loan."
"No! The unforseen has happened and he is simply making use of the new
development," said Pratt. "You are accused of having sold this cup to
pay your debts. If Hale acknowledged that he gave you the money he would
take away the motive and would in a measure prove your innocence. That
is exactly what he will not do. Unless--" he hesitated.
"Unless I give up Sybil and marry his sister?"
"Precisely," replied Pratt. "However, this is only a theory. You had
better wait until you see Hale before you make up your mind. I don't
mind making you a bet, Leo, that what Mrs Gabriel says is true."
"Do you think Hale will deny the loan?"
"I am certain of it. I have studied human nature a great deal during a
not uneventful life, and if ever I saw a crafty scoundrel Hale is the
man. I wish you had told me that he was the friend who was to lend you
the money. I would rather have found it for you myself than have let you
go to him."
"I wish I had spoken out. But it's too late now. And how did I know the
man would be such a scoundrel? Not that we yet can be certain that he
is, Pratt. Only the worst of it is," added Leo, wrinkling his young
brows, "that I cannot now repay the money."
"If he denies the debt you will not need to repay it."
"I shall insist upon doing so when I am able!" cried Leo, vehemently.
"But Mrs Gabriel won't help me."
"I will let you have the three hundred pounds," said Pratt.
"I don't see why you should, Pratt. As it is, you are too kind to me.
No! I will borrow no more. This interview with Mrs Gabriel has fixed my
mind as to enlisting. I shall see if I can't arrange about the money for
Hale. I have some jewellery and other things I can sell. In some way or
another I'll contrive to get out of his debt."
"He won't admit that you are in his debt," persisted Pratt; "but it is
no use talking all night about these things, Leo. You have a friend in
me, and as I know you are innocent I'll get you out of this trouble
somehow. To-morrow you can see Hale and Miss Sybil."
"I'll see him first," said Leo, grimly, after which speech--ominous of
evil--he retired to bed. Worn out with his long journey and by the
anxiety attendant on his new position--which was that of an absolute
pauper--he soon fell into a dreamless sleep. Pratt remained in the
library and for a long time sat watching the dying fire. He also saw
trouble ahead, but it had to do more with himself than with his guest.
Since the illness of Pearl, Sybil had attended to the decorating of the
altar. Sometimes she had the assistance of Peggy Bathurst. But Mrs
Bathurst, still fearful lest Peggy might become engaged to the curate,
would not let her come as often to the chapel as Sybil wished. So Miss
Tempest usually decked the altar alone. The morning after Leo's arrival
she was in the chapel at mid-day with her arms full of flowers. Taking
these and the altar vessels into a quiet corner she began to arrange the
blossoms. While thus engaged she heard a step. At once she sprang to her
feet with the love-light in her eye. She had no need to see the
newcomer. Her heart told her it was Leo.
"My dear!" She took him into her arms. "How glad I am to see you again!
Oh, Leo, I have so many sad things to tell you."
"I know all, my love," said the young man, kissing her. "I arrived last
night and saw Mrs Gabriel. _She_ did not spare me."
"Your mother?"
"She is no more mother of mine, Sybil. She told me she hated me; called
me a thief, and turned me out of the castle. I shall never enter it
again--never! Last night I slept at Pratt's. He was a good Samaritan
and took me in. This morning I went to see Hale."
Sybil clapped her hands. "Oh, then it is all right!" she cried joyfully.
"I could have told my father that you had got the money from him, but I
thought it better you should do so yourself."
"I can't do that without Hale calling me a liar."
"Leo! What do you mean?"
"That in the eyes of the people here I am both a liar and a thief. Hale,
whom I saw this morning, denies having given me the money."
"Has he spread that all about the town?" asked Sybil, scarcely able to
believe her ears.
"No, he is too clever for that. Now I know, Sybil, why he gave me the
money in gold. So that he might be able to deny the debt if occasion
arose, as it has done. Had he given me a cheque his signature would have
given him the lie."
"But what does he mean by denying that he lent you the money?"
"Well, I'll give you Pratt's theory. I believe it is the true one," and
the young man rapidly repeated the conversation he had had with the
American on the previous evening. "So you see you were right, Sybil."
"I knew it," said Sybil in low tones. "Do you remember how I told you on
the day of Mrs Bathurst's picnic? What is to be done now?"
"There is nothing to be done save to fight," said Leo, fiercely, "and
fight I shall. I had intended to enlist, but I shall not do that until I
have cleared my name. To leave here now would be to give colour to the
lies that are being told about me. I shall stay with Pratt. He is my
friend, and you, Sybil, also. We three will fight it out."
"Mr Raston is also your friend, Leo. He says he does not believe for one
moment that you did what you are accused of doing."
"Thank God for that! How can anyone who knows me believe me guilty of so
terrible a crime? To rob a church! Think of it, Sybil. Your father? Does
he believe I did this vile thing?"
"He suspends his judgment, Leo, until he has heard your defence."
"Alas, Sybil, what defence can I make save state that I am innocent? I
cannot make Hale confess that he lent me the money, and I cannot prove,
independently of him, that he did so. This morning he coolly denied all
knowledge of the loan, but said that for my sake he would not speak of
the visit I had made or the threats I had used."
"Did you use threats, Leo?"
"I am afraid I did, dear. But is it not enough to make an honest man's
blood boil to be placed in such a position? I threatened to give him a
thrashing. But when I remembered that he was a cripple, of course I
could not do that. But for all his physical weakness, he is a venomous
beast. No, Sybil, without Hale I can do nothing." He paused for a
moment, and then went on. "I think the best way to do is to wait," he
said. "If this is a plot on Hale's part he will continue to carry it
out--that is, he will make some proposition to me about giving you up.
I don't suppose he will want me to marry his sister, now that I am
called a thief."
Sybil placed her hand over his mouth. "You must not be so bitter, Leo. I
will not have you revile yourself in this way. Don't you think you had
better see my father?"
"What good would that do, my dear? I can only tell the story I tell you,
and as I have no evidence to prove its truth, he probably will not
believe me. No, Sybil. It is best for me to remain quietly with Pratt,
and wait until Hale makes some move. Besides, Pratt is a clever man of
the world, and can guide me. No doubt everyone will be disagreeable, but
I must put up with that. I refuse to go away, as though the charge
against me were true. You will see me sometimes, Sybil?"
"Whenever I can," she replied; "but it will not be easy. When my father
hears that you are back he will be more particular than ever to keep me
from meeting you."
Leo mused. "I wonder why he has changed so, Sybil? He used to like me."
"I think Mrs Gabriel said something which has turned him against you."
"Very probably," replied Leo, bitterly; "for some reason she hates me.
But all is at an end between us. I wait here, Sybil, to vindicate my
character, and afterwards I shall carry out my plan of enlisting. I may
be years away from you, but you will be true, I know."
"I swear to be true, Leo! I marry no one but you."
"Not even Hale," whispered Leo, straining her to his breast.
Sybil laughed. "If I disliked him before, think how I hate him now!" she
said. "He is acting a mean part. But his punishment will come. Now go,
Leo, for my father may come at any moment."
The two lovers embraced and parted. Leo went away much comforted by the
belief Sybil had in his innocence. He returned to The Nun's House, and
spent the day with Pratt talking over the position of affairs. It was a
disagreeable position, and at the present moment he could see no way of
mending it. Hale alone could prove his innocence, and Hale refused to
speak out. Bitterly did Leo regret that he had ever been tempted to
believe in this fox.
The days went by, and the position remained much the same as it was. By
this time the excitement consequent on the loss of the cup had died out.
Leo remained mostly within doors, as he did not care about meeting the
cold looks of those he had known from childhood. Mrs Gabriel gave no
sign, but secluded herself within her own grounds. Once or twice Pratt
saw her on Leo's behalf, but he could do nothing with her. However, he
told Leo to keep up his spirits, that all would come right. But how this
alteration was to be brought about he did not say. Pratt knew when to
keep his own counsel.
Towards the end of the week Mrs Jeal returned. Her father was much
better, she said, and she had come back to look after Pearl. The mad
girl was now out of bed, but, as yet, unable to leave the cottage.
Someone had conveyed to her the news of the loss--Raston shrewdly
suspected Joan Barker--but, strange to say, she was not so upset about
it as had been expected.
"The Master has taken His cup to use in heaven," she told the curate,
who often came to sit with her. "When he thinks fit he will bring it
back again to the altar."
Raston was puzzled by this queer view, but as it prevented the girl from
fretting he outwardly agreed with her. Having settled the matter thus,
Pearl rarely referred to the loss. She was quite content to wait until
the cup was restored. Taking a hint from Raston, Mrs Jeal never
discussed the matter. All the same she knew more about the missing cup
than the Colester people knew. And it was in this way she explained the
matter to Harold Raston.
"Sir," she said one day shortly after her return, "I want you to get me
speech with his reverence. I wish to make a statement to him."
"Indeed, Mrs Jeal! What is the statement?"
"It is about the cup, sir. But I prefer to speak to the vicar and to Mr
Haverleigh. I hear he is staying with Mr Pratt."
"I believe he is. Some foolish people accuse him of having stolen the
cup, Mrs Jeal. I hope you will be able to give us some information
likely to lead to its discovery, so that Mr Haverleigh's character can
be cleared."
Mrs Jeal screwed up her mouth, and sent out a flash from her wicked
eyes. She absolutely refused to speak save in the presence of Mr
Tempest and Leo. Therefore, after a consultation with the vicar, Raston
went to see Leo, and asked him to come to the Vicarage. Leo was
surprised at the summons, and not very willing to obey it. He resented
the way in which he had been treated by Mr Tempest. Still, from what was
hinted by Mrs Jeal, he fancied that she might be able to clear his
character, so he accompanied Raston to the place of meeting.
Mrs Jeal was already in the study, seated beside the vicar's desk. She
was dressed in her best, and looked demure as any cat. Tempest reddened
when he saw Leo, and held out his hand. Leo refused to take it. "No,
sir," he said coldly; "you have not treated me well. I thought you were
my friend, but I find you believe me to be a thief."
"Pardon me," replied Tempest, suddenly growing hard, "I do not say that
you took the cup. I refuse to believe anything against you until I hear
what you have to say in your own defence."
"I make no defence, Mr Tempest," rejoined Leo. "Sybil believes me
guiltless; so does Pratt; Raston also is my friend. I can only wait
until I am vindicated by time. Or perhaps Mrs Jeal will prove to you
that I did not steal the cup," and Leo looked at the crafty face of the
woman.
Mrs Jeal at a nod from the vicar, rose and folded her hands. "I can
prove that you did steal it, Mr Haverleigh," she said. "I saw you pawn
the cup in London."
CHAPTER X
THE PRICE OF SILENCE
For a few moments there was a dead silence. Tempest looked gravely
shocked. Mrs Jeal triumphant, and the curate much disturbed. He had been
so certain of Leo's innocence that this precise evidence took his breath
away. Leo was thunderstruck, and passed his hand across his eyes to make
sure that he was not dreaming.
"You saw me pawn what I never had in my possession!" he said quietly.
Mrs Jeal shrugged her plump shoulders. "I can say no more than I know,"
she said. "Of course, I quite expected you would deny my story."
"I have not heard it yet," replied the accused man, slowly; "and I shall
be glad to hear it. At the present moment, I declare most solemnly that
I never took the cup. I did not even know it was stolen until I returned
from London."
"Where you had pawned it," finished Mrs Jeal.
The vicar interposed. He was struck by Leo's calmness, which was not
that of a guilty person. "I think you had better tell your story, Mrs
Jeal," he said; "then we can hear Mr Haverleigh."
"I thank you for giving me a fair trial, Mr Tempest," said Leo,
quietly, and sat down with his eyes on the face of the woman.
Mrs Jeal cleared her throat, and in a slow voice began to speak. She
rather enjoyed her position, and made the most of it. "But before
speaking of what I know, sir," she said, looking at the vicar, "might I
ask if it is true that you have offered a reward for the recovery of the
cup?"
"I have not done so myself," said Tempest, gravely; "but Mr Pratt, who
presented the cup to me, has offered the sum of fifty pounds to
whomsoever will give information likely to lead to its recovery. If you
know of anything, Mrs Jeal--"
"I'll get the reward," said the woman, a greedy light in her small eyes.
"Yes, sir, I do know of something. I went up to Battersea, in London, to
see my father, who is ill. He is a retired gardener, your reverence, and
has invested his savings in a seed shop. My mother is still alive, and
she looks after him. They do fairly well out of the shop, and, of
course, your reverence, I give them some assistance, as becomes an only
child."
"This is not to the point, Mrs Jeal!"
"I am coming to the point shortly," said the woman, with a look at Leo,
who made no remark; "but it is necessary that your reverence should
understand how it was that I came to see Mr Haverleigh taking the cup to
Old Penny's pawnshop."
Leo could bear it no longer, and started to his feet. "It is absolutely
false!" he exclaimed passionately. "I did _not_ pawn the cup. I never
had it in my possession. I was never in Battersea in my life, and I do
not know the name of Penny."
"Better wait and hear the story, Leo," said Tempest in a more friendly
tone. He was beginning to be impressed by the bearing of the young man.
Even in the face of Mrs Jeal's evidence, he thought Leo might be
innocent. After all, the evidence was circumstantial, and that is not
always to be relied upon. "You shall have every justice," he said,
patting Leo's shoulder.
"I know what I know," said Mrs Jeal when Leo sat down again. "One
evening last week I was out late. I had been to get some medicine for my
dear father. In Barry Street there is a pawnshop kept by an old man
called Penny. I have known it most of my life. As I passed I saw Mr
Haverleigh ahead of me. He did not stop immediately at the shop."
"You saw _me_!" cried Leo, bewildered. "How was I dressed?"
"In a blue serge suit, with a hard, fawn-coloured hat," said Mrs Jeal,
glibly. "Over your arm you carried a coat, and under it you had a
parcel. It was the cup."
"You are telling a pack of lies!" said Leo, angrily. "How did you know
the cup was in the parcel?"
"Wait and you shall hear," said Mrs Jeal, tartly. "I do not care about
being hurried. You passed the shop; I recognised you at once and
wondered what you were doing in so poor a quarter of the town. Of course
I knew that the cup had been stolen, but I never thought that you had
it under your arm. You had a silk muffler round your throat although the
evening was warm, and apparently you wished to escape observation. I was
determined to find out what you were doing so, I followed you. You went
round the block until it grew darker. Then you returned to the shop, and
entered. I waited on the other side of the road. In half-an-hour you
came out again. You had the great-coat on and your hands in your pocket.
After looking up and down the street to see if anyone was observing you
I saw you walk rapidly to the end. I did not follow as I was anxious to
see why you had been to the pawnshop."
"Why all this anxiety, Mrs Jeal?" asked Tempest, annoyed.
"Well, sir! of course I know that Mrs Gabriel does not approve of Mr
Haverleigh's behaviour--"
"That has nothing to do with the matter," interposed Mr Tempest,
sternly, and Leo gave him a grateful look. "All you have to do is to
state facts."
Mrs Jeal dropped an ironical curtsey. "Very good, sir," said she; "but I
must say that I thought Mrs Gabriel had cut off Mr Haverleigh's
allowance and that he was pawning some jewellery to keep himself in
bread."
"I never pawned anything in my life," said Leo, disgusted at the plain
spite of the woman. "Go on, Mrs Jeal. You saw this man Penny, no doubt?"
"I did that!" cried the woman, triumphantly. "I have known him for many
years. I went into the shop and into his back parlour. On the table I
saw the cup. Yes, gentlemen, you no doubt are surprised. But it was the
very cup I had so often seen on the altar of the chapel."
"It is wholly false!" cried Leo, rising. "I never pawned the cup.
Someone must have impersonated me."
"It was yourself, Mr Haverleigh," insisted the woman. "I had a talk with
Old Penny, but of course I said nothing about having seen the cup
before. I did not mention that I knew you. Penny told me that he had
given you four hundred for the cup. It was worth much more he said, and
he was chuckling over the bargain he had made. I left the cup in his
possession and returned home. Several times I went to the shop to hear
if you had redeemed the cup. But it was still with Penny. I then had to
attend to my father and gave the matter little thought. But when I
returned and heard how you, Mr Haverleigh, had stolen the cup, it became
my duty to let his reverence know what you had done with it. And I
hear," added Mrs Jeal, with a malignant smile, "that your debts have
been paid."
"Who told you so?" asked Raston, who hitherto had been silent.
"Mrs Gabriel. I went to tell her what Mr Haverleigh had done. She said
that she expected as much, as she had refused to give him the money to
pay his debts. So that is all I know. I am prepared to take my oath in a
court of law that this is true."
There was a pause. Then Tempest observed quietly, "If that is all you
have to tell, Mrs Jeal, you can go. I will speak to Mr Haverleigh."
"But will I not--"
"You will do nothing," interrupted the vicar. "Go away and hold your
tongue, lest you get into trouble."
"You're going to let him off, I see," said Mrs Jeal, with a toss of her
grey head. "Well, I have done my share. Good-day, gentlemen," and she
sailed out of the room quite satisfied that she had ruined Leo.
When the three were alone Tempest addressed Leo, who sat silently beside
the table. "Leo," he said sadly, "I do not want you to get into trouble.
If you will confess to me that you did what Mrs Jeal says I will see
about getting the cup back and say nothing more about the matter. I will
give you money to leave the town."
"I tell you I am innocent!" cried Leo passionately. "Why do you want me
to confess a crime of which I am not guilty? I shall not leave Colester.
Here I stay until my innocence is acknowledged."
"But the evidence against you," urged the vicar, sorely perplexed. "You
were seen about the chapel on the night the cup was stolen. Your debts
are paid, yet Mrs Gabriel did not give you the money, and you have none
of your own. And now Mrs Jeal says she saw you pawn the sacred vessel."
"I admit that the evidence is strong," said Leo, recovering his
calmness. "All the same I am guiltless. I was at the chapel on that
night. I was to meet Sybil since you had forbidden me to meet her."
"Please leave my daughter's name out of this," said Tempest, an angry
spot on each cheek. He was annoyed at the mention of the meeting, but in
the presence of Raston he controlled himself out of pride.
"I can't leave Sybil's name out of it," said Leo, sadly. "I would if I
could; but she is as anxious as I am that I should recover my good name.
I did meet Sybil, and she will tell you that I left her at the door of
the Vicarage before ten o'clock. I therefore could not have stolen the
cup. I got the money to pay my debts from Frank Hale."
"From Hale? Then he will say as much!" cried the vicar. "This will go
far to prove your innocence, Leo."
"I don't think Hale will help me much," said Leo, coldly. "However, we
can talk of that later, or you can see Hale for yourself, Mr Tempest.
But I declare most solemnly that Hale lent me the money. As to pawning
the cup, I said before, and I say again, that I did no such thing. I did
not take the cup. I was never in Battersea, and I do not know the man
Mrs Jeal calls Old Penny. If you want to have me arrested, Mr Tempest,
you will find me at Mr Pratt's. Far from wishing to run away, I court an
investigation."
"Leo," stammered the vicar, restlessly, "I do not want to get you into
any trouble. If I can help--"
"I am in the deepest trouble," returned Leo, "and more will not matter.
You can have me arrested if you like. I know that Sybil believes me to
be innocent, so does Pratt. I do not care for anyone else's opinion. I
think you are treating me cruelly, Mr Tempest, and some day you will be
sorry that you showed so little charity. I go now, and I shall not see
you again until such time as you give evidence against me in court," and
with this last bitter speech Leo walked out of the room with his head in
the air.
The two clergymen looked at one another. They did not know very well
what to say. Tempest sat down with a sigh. "I do not know what to
think."
"I do," said Raston, sharply. "Notwithstanding the woman's story, I
still believe that Haverleigh is guiltless. Circumstances have so
culminated that he appears to be in the wrong. There is a mystery about
the whole of this affair, and it seems to me that Haverleigh has some
enemy."
"That may be so," admitted Tempest, struck by this remark. "But what is
to be done? I can't have Leo arrested. Even if he were guilty, which I
am now inclined to doubt, I cannot ruin his life."
"What we need," replied the curate, "is some clever man who will get to
the bottom of this. If you can spare me for a few days, Mr Tempest, I
will go to London and see Marton?"
"Marton?" repeated the vicar. "Who is Marton?"
Raston laughed. "Such is fame," said he, lightly. "Marton is one of the
best detectives in England. He was leaving college when I went up, and
we met for a few weeks. When I was curate in the Battersea slums I met
him again, as he has a wide acquaintance with the criminal classes. We
renewed our college friendship, and I still write to him. Now, with
your permission, Mr Tempest, I will put this case into Marton's hands.
It is just the kind of mystery he would love to solve."
"The man is a gentleman, I suppose, Raston?"
"Certainly. He is my friend. I know the pawnshop of Old Penny. He is a
Scotsman, if you can grasp the idea of a Scotsman keeping a pawnshop.
I'll tell Marton the whole case, and we can then go to this shop. If
possible, we may get back the cup."
"Who is to pay four hundred pounds for it?" asked Tempest.
"We'll see," replied Raston, quietly. "I shall do nothing without
Marton's advice. Have I your permission?"
Tempest nodded. "I think it is the best thing you can do. Go to London
and keep me advised of everything. I should like to know Mr Marton's
opinion of the matter."
"It is probable he'll come down here later on," said the curate; "but in
the meantime, Mr Tempest, do nothing to Haverleigh."
"I promise you that," replied the vicar, and the matter being settled in
this way, the two men shook hands. Afterwards Raston went to prepare for
his departure.
While this was taking place, Leo was talking in the chapel with Hale.
Haverleigh had gone up to see if Sybil was about, as he wished to tell
her of this new development of the conspiracy against him. Leo felt sure
by this time that there was a conspiracy, and that Hale was concerned
in it. He was therefore rather pleased when he saw the cripple walking
up the hill before him. Leo made up his mind to force the truth out of
him, and hurried on so as to catch him. Hale heard his steps, and turned
with a queer smile on his face. He was not at all abashed by the
presence of the man to whom he had told a lie, but, on the contrary,
welcomed him in the most friendly manner. Haverleigh was irritated by
this false behaviour. "Either you think me innocent, and wish to be my
friend," he said, "or you believe that I am guilty and have some reason
to be feigning good fellowship. I must have some understanding with you,
Hale. Come into the chapel. We will not be disturbed there as it is
mid-day and everyone is at dinner," and Leo, without waiting for a
reply, entered the door.
The chapel was empty; even Sybil was not in sight. Hearing the halting
steps of the cripple behind him, Leo led the way into the crusaders'
chapel, where he sat down beside one of the tombs. Hale paused before
him and looked down in a whimsical manner. "You have chosen a strange
place," he said, looking round.
"It is a sacred place," replied Leo, coolly; "and you may be the less
inclined to tell lies. I presume you have some religion."
"How dare you say I tell lies?" cried the baronet, scowling.
"Because I have had some experience of your capability in that
direction. And now I should like to know what you mean by denying that
you lent me the three hundred pounds?"
Hale shrugged his unshapely shoulders and sat down with a painful
effort, placing his crutch beside him. "You were fool enough to speak to
me in the presence of my sister," he said. "I could only say what I did
say. Now that we are alone I am willing to answer any questions you may
put to me."
"You will answer truthfully, I hope?"
"Assuredly. It is time we understood one another. Go on."
"You lent me three hundred pounds?" said Leo, in the form of a query.
"In gold," assented Sir Frank, coolly.
"Why did you lend it to me in gold?"
"A whim of mine."
"I don't think so," said Leo, slowly. "You had some scheme in your head.
I believe you wanted to deny the loan if you found it convenient."
"You are very clever, Haverleigh. That is just what I did want. Had I
given you a cheque you could have proved the loan. Even notes might have
shown the truth. But I wanted to be free to act as I pleased, so I went
to the trouble of getting gold from the bank."
"Then it seems to me that you had this cup stolen by some confederate,
and intended to lay the blame on me so as to get me into a trap!"
"Indeed, no," protested Hale, so loudly that Leo believed he was
speaking the truth. "The stealing of the cup, and the subsequent blame
being thrown on you, was unexpected. But I took advantage of the
opportunity. You can prove your innocence only by my help, Haverleigh,
and I give my evidence only on conditions."
"I was prepared for such a speech," said Leo, calmly; "but it won't do,
my friend. You must go to Tempest and tell him that you gave me three
hundred pounds to pay my debts. Perhaps then he may disbelieve this
ridiculous story of my being a thief."
Hale sat up alertly. "Then you didn't steal the cup?"
"Certainly not. How dare you suggest such a thing? I suspect you know
more about the loss of the cup than I do."
The baronet looked down on his crooked leg and smiled ironically. "Do
you mean to infer that I thrust this misshapen body through that
window?"
"No! But you have plenty of money to pay for any rascality."
"I am not so fond of parting with money," said Hale, dryly. "I know
nothing about the cup. But I really thought you stole it. Mrs Jeal's
tale--"
"Ha!" Leo started up. "She told you that? Why?"
"Because she is a woman who is fond of money," said Hale, quietly.
"Knowing that my sister is in love with you, Haverleigh, she came to
threaten me. She declared that she would proclaim you a thief if I did
not pay her. It was her belief that such a course would break my
sister's heart."
"And what did you do?"
"I told her I would inform the police if she dared to speak to me in
that manner again. I believe she then went to the vicar. But if I come
forward, Haverleigh, and state that I lent you the money, it will go a
long way towards clearing you. Of course, I do not understand this
pawning business. The woman says she saw you."
"She saw my double, or someone dressed up to resemble me," said Leo,
vehemently; "but she did not see me. I was never near the shop."
"So you say," said Hale, smiling cruelly. "However, you must see that I
can help you. I will do so on one condition--no, on two."
"I can guess the two," said Leo, looking at his mean face. "You want me
to surrender Sybil so that you may marry her, and to make your sister my
wife? Is that not so?"
Hale smiled again. "You save me the trouble of an explanation," he said.
"Then I absolutely refuse to do what you want, Hale. I respect your
sister, who is a kind and good-hearted girl; but I do not love her, and
not for all the gold in the world would I marry her. On the other hand,
nothing will induce me to give up Sybil. She shall never become your
wife. I wonder you have the impertinence to propose such a thing to me!"
"If you don't do what I ask," said Hale, very pale and venomous, "I
shall refuse to help you. I shall deny that I lent you the money."
"Deny what you please!" Leo walked to the door of the chapel.
"Everything is in your favour, and you can have me arrested if you
choose. But I decline to sell my love to buy my safety. Good-day, Hale,"
and he marched away.
CHAPTER XI
THE LONDON DETECTIVE
Sybil had seen Leo go into the room where her father was waiting with
Mrs Jeal, and wondered what the woman had to do with her lover. She was
called out to see a sick woman on behalf of her father, and on her way
home bethought herself how she could see Leo. The girl was in a perfect
fever of nervous fear for the young man. Then it struck her that the
best thing to do would be to call at Mr Pratt's. No sooner had she made
up her mind to brave her father's anger in this respect than she went at
once to The Nun's House. She feared if she delayed that her courage
might evaporate.
The door was opened by Adam, who explained that Mr Pratt was from home.
"He went into Portfront to-day, miss," said Adam. "I only hope he will
be able to get back this night, as there is a sea-fog coming up the
Channel."
"There is no danger of his losing the road, Adam," said Sybil,
cheerfully; "but I don't want to see Mr Pratt. It is Mr Haverleigh
who--"
"He is in the library, miss," replied Adam, and admitted her into the
house. When Sybil found herself alone with Leo she had a qualm. What
would her father say should he ever come to know that she had paid such
a visit?
Leo was seated at the desk, his face hidden in his arms, looking most
dejected. He lifted his head as she entered, and, at the sight of his
face, Sybil forgot all about her father and the impropriety of the
visit. At once she ran to her lover, and drew his head down on to her
breast with a look of almost divine pity. "My darling Leo," she said, "I
knew that you were miserable, and I have come to comfort you."
"How good of you, dear!" replied Haverleigh, stroking her hair; "but
your father? I did not think he would let you come to me."
"My father does not know that I am here," said Sybil, blushing, as he
placed a chair for her; "but I knew you had been to see him, and I could
not rest until I heard all about the interview. Was he very angry?"
"No; I think he is inclined to believe in my innocence in spite of Mrs
Jeal's story. And Heaven knows she has painted me black enough!"
"I wondered what Mrs Jeal was doing at the Vicarage, Leo; I don't like
that woman. She looks sly and wicked. But what story can she have to
tell about you, dear?"
"Sybil, she says that she saw me pawning the cup in London," and while
Sybil, filled with surprise, sat looking at his agitated face, Leo told
all that Mrs Jeal had said. "So you see, dear," he continued, "that
there is some sort of conspiracy against me. I believe Hale is in it
too."
"It is a strange story," she said musingly. "I wonder who it was could
have impersonated you? Did the man give your name?"
"By Jove!" cried Leo, starting up, "I never thought of asking. Yet the
rascal must have given it for the pawn-ticket. Sybil, I can't help
thinking that Hale knows something about this. He saw me in the chapel
an hour ago and said that he would make a statement to the effect that
he had paid me the money if I would give you up and marry his sister."
Sybil's eyes flashed. "How dare he?" she cried. "He wants to drive you
into a corner, Leo. What did you say?"
"I refused to have anything to do with him, dear. He can join with your
father in having me arrested for all I care. I would rather that than
give up my Sybil! But you see the position. What is to be done?"
"Can't you go to London and see this man Penny?"
"No. I dare not leave the place. Your father and the others would think
that I was seeking safety in flight. I might be arrested before I got as
far as Portfront. I don't say that your father would go so far but there
is always the chance. I am sure Mrs Gabriel would not counsel mercy. For
some unaccountable reason she hates me thoroughly."
"My poor Leo!" Sybil stroked his cheek. "Fate is very cruel to you. But
never mind. In spite of everything I will be true to you. And what is
more, Leo, I'll help you to prove your innocence."
"How can you do that, my love?"
She pursed up her pretty mouth, and, crossing her slender feet, looked
on the ground with an air of portentous gravity. "I don't believe this
story of Mrs Jeal's," she said; "there is something behind it. As you
cannot go to London--and I see it would be foolish of you to go away
from Colester at present--we must do the best we can through the
newspapers."
Leo looked at her in surprise, and knelt beside her. "What can we do
with the newspapers, darling?"
"Put an advertisement in every London daily paper saying that the cup
has been lost, giving a description, and offering a reward if any
information is given to _me_."
"To _you_, Sybil! What would your father say?"
"He won't know. Besides, Leo, darling, you are more to me even than my
father, and I am angry at the unjust way in which you are being treated.
I will write out a number of these advertisements, and send them up with
post-office orders. The replies to be sent to 'S. T. Colester
Post-office.'"
"But what good will that do?"
"Oh, you stupid darling! I have to think for two, I see. Why, this
pawnbroker--what is his name?--Penny. Well, if Penny sees the
advertisement, he will recognise the cup from the description, and know
that it has been stolen. He will be afraid of getting into trouble with
the police, and he no doubt will write saying that the cup was pawned
with him and that he will be willing to sell it back for the price
paid. Then we'll get it back, Leo. When I am certain, I'll tell my
father, and he will arrange about buying it again."
"Yes. But how does all this benefit me?"
"This Penny creature will explain who pawned it, and he will give the
name of the person Mrs Jeal said resembled you. He might do that if the
matter were made public by advertisement. If we approach him privately
he will very likely deny everything. We can't be too careful, Leo."
"But the reward," said Haverleigh, puzzled. "I have no money; you have
no money. What will you do?"
"When the cup is back, or if information is given likely to recover it,
I am sure my father can arrange about the money with Mrs Gabriel. Now do
not say a word, Leo. She has nothing to do with you now. And, after
all," added Sybil, naïvely, "I don't see why any money need pass. This
is a trap I am laying for that pawnbroker. That is if Mrs Jeal's story
is true, which I am inclined to doubt. I'll put the advertisement in on
chance, Leo, and see what comes of it."
"But it is such a mad idea," remonstrated the young man, who could not
follow all these feminine arguments. "Let me tell Pratt about your
suggestion. He will be able to advise us."
Sybil rose to her feet and shook her head obstinately. "If you say a
word to Mr Pratt I'll never forgive you. Let me try this experiment all
alone, Leo, dear. It can do no harm, and it might do a lot of good. We
must not tell anyone about it."
"Sybil, I kept the fact of my borrowing that money from Hale a secret,
and I have regretted it ever since. Let us ask Pratt's advice."
"No, Leo." Sybil was still obstinate. "I want to try this myself. If it
fails it can do no harm, and if it succeeds I shall have the joy of
knowing that it was I who got you out of this trouble. Now promise not
to tell!"
At first Leo refused. He did not want Sybil to mix herself up in this
disagreeable case even for his sake. But she used such endearments, and
kept to her point with such pertinacity, that he gave in. It was useless
to contend against Sybil when she set her heart on getting anything. She
never would give in, however discouraged. Therefore, before she left the
library, she had drawn out an advertisement with the assistance of Leo,
in which the appearance of the cup and its Latin inscription were
carefully set down. A reward of fifty pounds was offered, and the
answers were to be sent to S. T., at the Colester Post-office.
"There!" said Sybil, when this document was completed, "I have set my
trap. Now we shall see who will fall into it. I'll make a dozen copies
at once, and have t
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