it is to be hoped that the reader has not quite forgotten the existence of everard lisle.
after ethel thursby's refusal of him on her eighteenth birthday he went back with a sad heart to his duties at withington chase. there he had rooms in the house of mr. kinaby, the land steward, an old red brick house situated a little way outside the precincts of the park. mr. kinaby's health had been failing for some time, and everard was gradually taking over the greater part of his duties. every morning he went to the chase to see to sir gilbert's correspondence and take his instructions in reference to the estate and other matters. but he had still other duties to attend to. in addition to being a numismatist of some note and a collector of curios, sir gilbert of late years had developed into an antiquarian and arch?ologist, and for some time past had been engaged in putting together the framework of what he intended ultimately to elaborate into an exhaustive history of the "hundred" of the county in which the chase was situated, as natives of which his ancestors for three centuries back had played more or less conspicuous parts. in furtherance of this labour of love, for such it was to him, he found everard very useful in the way of hunting up authorities, making extracts and transcribing his notes into a calligraphy which it would be possible for a compositor to set up--when, at some as yet unknown date, the great work should be sufficiently advanced to be sent to press--without having to tear his hair in the process.
sir gilbert, whom advancing years had tended to render more of a recluse than ever, had gradually, and by a process of which he himself was scarcely conscious, begun to entertain a great liking (in his frigid, undemonstrative way) for this frank-eyed, clear-headed, straightforward young man, in whom he could detect no faintest trace of sycophancy, and who knew so well how to retain the full measure of his own self-respect without in any way grating against the amour-propre of his employer. lisle had evolved a happy faculty of managing the lonely cantankerous old man, for whom he often felt a profound pity, as no one before had ever succeeded in managing him. thus it had come to pass that a week never went by without everard being asked to dine once, and frequently oftener, at the chase. on these occasions, when dinner was over, the old man and the young one would wind up the evening by playing a few sober games of chess or backgammon, at both of which sir gilbert was an adept. by the time the turret clock struck ten, everard would be strolling back through the park in the direction of his rooms, with no company save a cigar and his own thoughts. at such seasons, with the fresh night air blowing about him, with the stars raining down sweet influences upon him, and with the huge ghost-like trees to sentinel him on his way, whither ought a young man's thoughts to wing their flight save to the one fair being, fairer to him than all the world beside, who holds captive his heart, a willing prisoner!
but, in everard's case, she who still held his heart captive did so all unwittingly. she had rejected his proffered love and all was at an end between them. he could never hope to win her for his wife, but that seemed to him no reason, however little such a course might recommend itself to his cooler judgment, why he should not go on loving her just as he had done all along, in any case, he did go on loving her, nor did it seem possible to him that a time should ever come when he could do otherwise. he knew that in all human probability the day was not far distant when he should hear the news of her marriage with another, and he tried to school himself by anticipation, so that when the shock should come, he might be enabled to bear it with manly equanimity.
on a certain morning, as sir gilbert clare and everard lisle were engaged together in the library at withington chase, a servant entered carrying a highly-glazed card on a salver. "i have shown the gentleman into the morning-room, sir," said the man as he presented the card.
sir gilbert took it and adjusted his pince-nez. "captain verinder," he read aloud. "have no recollection of anyone of that name. um-um. i suppose i must go and see what he wants me for." then, to the man, "tell captain verinder i will be with him immediately."
the captain had come down from town by an early train and had made his way on foot from the railway station to the chase. he had not seen anything of the old mansion on the occasion of his previous visit, and as he drew near, approaching it by way of the drive, he could not help being much impressed, not merely by its size and the noble simplicity of its fa?ade, but by the old-time air of stately, if somewhat faded, dignity which seemed as integral a part of it as the ivy which clung round its gables and chimneys, or the patches of many-coloured lichen with which time had encrusted its high-pitched roof. nor was this impression lessened when, in response to his summons, a servant in livery opened wide the great double doors, and having taken his card, ushered him through the big echoing hall, hung with trophies of war and the chase, into a charming room furnished in the empire style--although, to be sure, the gilding was tarnished and the coverings of chairs and lounges considerably the worse for wear--which looked out through its long windows on a gay parterre of flowers, and was shut in with a sort of sweet privacy by a semi-circular hedge of laurel and box. and here sir gilbert found his visitor some three minutes later.
the captain, it may be remembered, had only seen the baronet once before, on that sunday morning when he took account of him in his high-backed pew at church. now that he beheld him close at hand, he could not help saying to himself, "what a grand wreck of a man!--and what a splendid fellow he must have been in his prime!" and indeed, although sir gilbert's one-time height of six feet two inches was now slightly curtailed owing to the burden of his years, he still towered above most people with whom he came in contact, as though he were descended from some heroic race of old, while his shaggy brows, his white drooping moustache, his high thin nose and his eyes still luminous with a sort of untamed fire, lent to his aspect a something of leonine majesty.
"captain verinder, i presume," said sir gilbert as he advanced, holding the other's card between his thumb and forefinger. the captain bowed. "you have--a--um--the advantage of me, sir. but pray be seated." his keen critical eyes were taking verinder in from head to foot as he spoke. it was a scrutiny which, despite his coolness and his habitual indifference to the opinion of others, somewhat disconcerted the latter.
"i have taken the liberty of intruding upon you, sir gilbert," he began, as he drew forward a chair and gave a little preliminary cough behind his hand, "in order that i may have an opportunity of laying before you certain information which has only quite recently come into my possession, but which, i feel sure, when you have been made aware of it, you will agree with me is of the greatest possible importance."
sir gilbert opened his eyes a little wider than usual. "pray proceed, sir," he said stiffly.
"the information to which i refer bears especially on certain incidents in the life of your late son and heir, mr. john alexander clare."
on the instant sir gilbert's figure became as rigid as a ramrod. his lips opened and then shut again without a sound.
"unless my information is at fault," resumed the captain, "the last occasion on which you and your son met was when, accompanied by another gentleman, you stopped for a few hours at catanzaro in calabria, at which place mr. clare was then residing."
sir gilbert contented himself with bowing a grave assent. his face just then was a puzzle.
"shortly afterwards mr. clare emigrated to the united states, and there, between two and three years later, he unfortunately met with his death through an accident." here the captain paused and looked questionably at sir gilbert.
"your information, mr.--er--captain verinder, is quite correct as far as it goes," said the latter as if in response to the look. "still, i fail to see in what way--er--in short----"
"why i, a stranger, have had the impertinence to come here and talk to you about matters which, as you doubtless think, can be no possible concern of mine," interposed verinder coolly. "that is the precise point, sir gilbert, as to which i now propose to enlighten you."
drawing his chair a few inches closer to that of sir gilbert he resumed:
"i have merely recapitulated certain facts already known to you in order that i might thereby be enabled to lead up to certain other facts which, as i have every reason to believe, have never been brought under your cognisance."
he paused for a moment as if to allow his next words to gather force thereby.
"sir, is it within your knowledge that when your son left italy for america he took with him--a wife?"
at these words sir gilbert's jaw dropped, a curious glaze came over his eyes and his fingers began to twitch spasmodically. the captain sprang to his feet; he was on the point of ringing for help, but a gesture on the part of the baronet restrained him.
"i shall be better in a minute or two," he said in a hoarse whisper. verinder crossed to the window. two or three minutes passed, then a hollow changed voice said: "what proof have you that your most strange statement is true?"
"the most convincing of all proofs, sir gilbert--a living one. your son's wife--or widow, as i ought rather to term her--is in london at this moment."
"alive?--and i have known nothing of her existence all these years! it is incredible, sir--incredible. i am being made the victim of some vile conspiracy."
"conspiracy, indeed! nothing of the kind, sir, i give you my word--the word of an officer and a gentleman--hem! i condescend to overlook your words, sir gilbert, in consideration of the singularity of the circumstances, otherwise----"
the rest of the sentence was drowned in a cough. he said no more, but twisted one end of his moustache viciously, and scowled at the chandelier.
"it is incredible," sir gilbert kept murmuring under his breath without heeding verinder. the latter waited patiently. one half his tale, and that the more amazing half, had yet to be told. at length sir gilbert seemed to pull himself together. turning on his visitor a face which seemed even more sternly set than usual, he said: "assuming for the moment, sir, the accuracy of what you have just told me--which, mind you, at present i am by no means prepared to admit--will you be good enough to inform me who and what the--the person was with whom my son was so foolishly weak as to contract a secret marriage."
it was a question for which the captain had prepared himself, and he answered it on the moment.
"the lady in question was born in italy, her father being a native of that country, and her mother an englishwoman. signor rispani was a scion of an impoverished patrician family which can boast of i know not how many quarterings with other families as noble as itself."
this latter statement, it may be remarked, was a deliberate invention on the captain's part. he had calculated that it would not be without its effect on the baronet, as also that the latter, in all probability, had never heard the name of rispani, or, if he had heard it during his brief sojourn at catanzaro, that he had long ago forgotten it.
"um--um. and the young woman's mother--what of her? you say she was an englishwoman."
"her mother, sir gilbert clare, was my sister," replied the captain as he laid his hand over the region of his heart and bent his head, while his look said as plainly as words, "after that statement, it would be nothing less than an impertinence on your part to inquire further."
sir gilbert bowed with his most courtly air. "thank you very much, captain verinder," he said. then, after stroking his chin for a few seconds, he went on: "may i ask, sir, whether your visit here to-day is with the knowledge and sanction of your niece--that is to say of the--the lady whom you allege to be the widow of my son?"
"had my visit not been undertaken at her express desire, it would not have taken place at all."
"um. then will it be thought presumptuous on my part to ask by what particular motive your niece is actuated in asking you, after a silence which has lasted nearly a score of years, to bring under my notice certain facts hitherto, i admit, unknown to me, but which, for anything which has yet been advanced to the contrary, might just as well have been left in the oblivion to which, apparently, they have for so long a time been consigned."
there was a veiled insolence in this request, or so it seemed to verinder, which sent an angry flush mounting to the very roots of his dyed hair. it was only by a supreme effort that he succeeded in keeping back the retort that rose to his lips. not till he had drawn several breaths did he trust himself to reply. then he said: "should you condescend, sir gilbert, to grant my niece an interview, you will find her amply prepared to furnish you with such an explanation of her long silence as, i venture to think, you will find it impossible to cavil at. but the one great reason which has induced her, at what may be called the eleventh hour, to rake certain facts out of oblivion, as you have so expressively termed it, and bring them before you, is, because it seems to her an imperative duty that you should no longer be left in ignorance of the existence of your grandson--of the son of your son, the late john alexander clare."
"what is that you say?" almost shrieked sir gilbert. "a grandson! the child of my son alec--and alive!"
"very much alive, sir gilbert, if you will allow me to say so," returned the captain, with something between a grin and a sneer. "and as fine, and handsome, and clever a young man as you would find in a day's march."
sir gilbert lay back in his chair, his chin drooping on his breast and his eyes closed. his face was of a ghastly pallor, his lips moved inaudibly. in the shock of verinder's news he had forgotten the man's presence. an invisible hand had snatched him away. he was there in body but for the time his spirit was otherwhere.
the captain was biting his nails and regarding him furtively. "how will he take it?" he asked himself. "i have a presentiment that my little scheme will result in a brilliant success. for all sir gilbert looks as strong as some gnarled old monarch of the woods, who can say whether he's sound at the core? looks are deceptive things, and at his age he might go off at a day's notice--nay, without any notice at all. it was nothing less than a stroke of genius to represent vanna's father as belonging to the old italian nobility. it touched him in a weak spot. vanna must on no account forget that she is no longer an innkeeper's daughter, but a person of much greater consequence. well, i will give her credit for one thing; as far as looks and bearing go, she might be a princess born, or the daughter of a duke. ah! who comes now?"
the question was elicited by a discreet tap at the door, which was followed, an instant later, by the entrance of a servant.
"if you please, sir gilbert," said the man, "lady nelthorpe has called and would like to see you. her ladyship wished me to say that she won't detain you more than five minutes."
the sound of the man's voice served to break sir gilbert's waking trance. he opened his eyes, gave a little start, and grasping an arm of his chair with either hand, he drew himself into an upright position. next moment he was himself again.
"repeat your message," he said to the man in his usual curt, imperious tones; and when that had been done, he said: "tell her ladyship that i will be with her in three minutes," adding, sotto voce, "plague take the woman! she never calls on me except when she wants to cozen me out of a cheque for one or other of her preposterous projects."
then his eyes turned to verinder, who had drawn his chair somewhat aside on the entrance of the servant, and as he did so, the expression of his face changed.
"pardon me," he said, "if for the moment i had forgotten your presence. i am getting into years," he added with a faint sigh, "and at times--only at times, mind you--my memory fails me somewhat. the news you have brought me, captain--er--er--dear me, how annoying!"
"verinder," suggested the other.
"to be sure, to be sure. the news you have brought me, captain verinder, is of such a surprising kind that i may be pardoned if i find myself unable all at once to realise it as something within the bounds of possibility. it--it seems like an incident culled from some romance." here he rose to his feet. there was a strange yearning look in his eyes as he turned and faced the captain. "do you mean to assure me, sir, on your word as a man of honour," he said in a voice the deep impressiveness of which was not without a touch of pathos, "that you are prepared to produce before me a young man whom you will vouch for as being the offspring of my son john alexander clare."
laying a hand over his heart, the captain, who had also risen, said with grave solemnity: "on my word of honour, sir gilbert clare, that is what i am prepared to do. your grandson shall be produced before you whensoever and wheresoever may be most convenient to you."
sir gilbert took a turn or two in silence. many memories were at work within him. "no, i will not see the young man just yet. bring his mother first and let me see and question her. there are several points that will have to be cleared up to my satisfaction before--before---- but i need say no more at present."
"will you be good enough, sir gilbert, to name a time for your interview with my niece?"
"to-morrow at eleven, if that will suit you and her." then he added under his breath: "ah, if my faithful, shrewd old page were only here to help me to investigate this business! the longer i live the more i miss him."
