Captain Davenal and his wife had been expected in England in December--as you have heard; but the time went on, and February was at its close before they arrived. They had been compelled to land at the Cape in consequence of the illness of Mrs. Davenal, and had to remain there some time. She had come into a very large fortune on the death of her father; a considerable portion of it was settled upon her, and the rest, a munificent sum, lapsed to her husband. So Captain Edward Davenal was once more at his ease in this world of changes.
Gay, handsome, free, sunny, it might have been thought that not an hour's care had ever been upon him. No allusion to a certain dark episode of the past escaped his lips when he and his sister met: there were no signs that he so much as remembered such a trouble had ever been. They were the present guests of Lady Reid, and would remain so for a short time: It was Captain Davenal's intention to take a furnished house for a term. His leave of absence was for two years; but they did not care to be stationary in London the whole of the period. Sara was charmed with his wife: a gentle, yielding, pretty thing, looking so young as to be a girl still, and dividing her love between her husband and infant son, a fine young gentleman born at the Cape. A dread fear assailed Sara Davenal's heart as she looked upon her; for that curious matter, touching the young woman who claimed to be connected with Captain Davenal, had never been cleared up. Not since the previous December had Sara once observed her approach the house: but she had twice seen her in conversation with Neal at the end of the street, the last time being the very day of the arrival of Captain Davenal. It was altogether strange in Sara's opinion if the young woman fancied she really had a legal claim of the nature she mentioned on Captain Davenal, why had she not asserted it openly? If she had no such claim, if she were an impostor, for what purpose had she put the claim forth? There had been no demand for silence-money; no attempt at extortion. However it might be, Sara's duty was plain, now Captain Davenal had arrived--to acquaint him with the circumstances.
"I have some papers to give you," Sara whispered to her brother at Lady Reid's, the night of his arrival there.
"Papers? O yes, I suppose so. I shall be with you tomorrow."
So he had not quite forgotten the affair. On the conclusion of the matter with Mr. Alfred King Sara had sealed up certain papers and receipts according to the written directions of Dr. Davenal; and these she waited to put into her brother's hand.
Mrs. Cray was with them still. She had taken to her bedroom entirely now, and was gradually dying. Mark was with her. His difficulty with the Great Wheal Bang's shareholders, and particularly with that one cautious shareholder who had saluted Mark so unpolitely on his landing from Havre, was virtually over: Mark enjoyed liberty of person again, and things were in process of adjustment. Miss Davenal so far overcame her repugnance to Mark as to allow him to be in her house, but it was only in consideration of Caroline's dying state. They could do nothing for her. They painted her clothes with iodine as she lay on the sofa day after day before the chamber fire; it was the only thing that brought any alleviation to the pain.
It happened that Captain Davenal's first visit to the house was paid at an opportune moment, in so far as that his interview with his sister was free from fear of interruption. Miss Davenal had gone to Lady Reid's, to see and welcome the travellers. Neal was in attendance upon her, and Caroline was asleep. Mark Cray was in the City; he had to go there frequently, in connection with the winding-up of the company of the Great Wheal Bang.
Captain Davenal came in, all joyous carelessness, telling Dorcas, who admitted him, that she looked younger and handsomer than ever: and poor Dorcas--who was not young at all, and had never been handsome in her life--felt set up in vanity for a month to come. Sara was in the drawing-room. It was the first time of their being alone, and Captain Davenal held her before him and scanned her face.
"What has made you get so thin?"
"Am I thin?" she returned.
"Dreadfully so. I have been telling Dorcas that she's handsomer than ever, but I can't say the same of you. What is the cause, Sara?"
"I think people do get thin in London," she replied with some evasion. "But let me be rid of my charge, Edward."
She went to her bedroom and brought down Dr. Davenal's desk. To Edward's surprise he saw that it was bound round with a broad tape and sealed. When Sara had placed the papers in the desk, received from Mr. Alfred King, she had immediately sealed up the desk in this manner; a precaution against its being opened.
"What's that for?" exclaimed Captain Davenal, in his quick way, as he recognised the desk and to whom it had belonged. "Did my father leave it so?"
Sara replied by telling him her suspicions of the desk's having been opened; and that she had deemed it well to secure it against any future inroads when once these papers were inclosed in it.
"But who would touch the desk?" he asked. "For what purpose? Was young Dick at home at the time?"
"Dick was not at home. But Dick would not touch a desk. I would not answer for Dick where a jam cupboard is concerned; but in anything of consequence Dick's as honourable as the day. I suspected Neal, Edward."
"Neal!"
"I did. I feel half-ashamed to say so. Do you remember telling me that papa had a suspicion or doubt whether Neal had not visited some of his letters?"
"I remember it. I thought my father was wrong. Neal! Why, Sara, I'd as soon suspect myself."
"Well, I can only tell you the truth--that when I found cause to fear this desk had been surreptitiously opened, my doubts turned to Neal. You see, we have no one about us but him and Dorcas; and Dorcas I am certain is trustworthy. But I admit that it was in consequence of what you told me that I cast any doubt on Neal. However it may have been, I deemed it well to secure the desk afterwards."
She had been opening the desk as she spoke, and she took from it a sealed packet and handed it to Captain Davenal. He opened it at once; glanced over its contents, two or three papers, one by one, and slightly drew in his lips.
"What a shame!" he burst forth.
She did not like to ask questions. She only looked at him.
"That they should havebledmy father in this manner. Scoundrels! I was away, therefore the game was in their own hands. Did you read these papers, Sara?"
"I was obliged to read them; to see that they tallied with copies that papa had left. He left written instructions that I should do so."
"To whom was this money paid?"
"To Mr. Alfred King. Don't you see the receipts?"
"I'd walk ten miles before breakfast any morning to see the fellow hung. It's what he'll come to."
"He told me that he and you had once been friends," she said in a half-whisper.
"And so we were. I believed in the fellow: I had no suspicion that he was a villain, and I let him draw me into things from which I could not extricate myself. I was a fool; and I had to pay for it."
In Sara's inmost heart there arose unbidden a rebellious thought: that others had had to pay for it; not Captain Davenal.
"Did it affect my father's health, this business?" he inquired in a low tone.
"I fear it did," she replied, feeling that she could not avoid the confession. "I am sure it affected him mentally. There was a great change in him from that night."
Captain Davenal folded the papers slowly, and pushed them into his waistcoat pocket in his usual careless fashion. "What a fool I was!" he muttered; "and what a rogue was that other!"
"Are they safe there, Edward?"
"Safe enough until I get home. They will be burnt then, except this final receipt. Oh, if my father had but lived! I could at least have repaid him his pecuniary lose. It took all he left behind him I suppose, to satisfy it?"
"Yes; all."
"He told me he feared it would, or nearly all, in the letter he wrote me when he was dying. Did things realise well?"
"No, very badly. There was not enough to satisfy the claim by two hundred pounds. Finally, Aunt Bettina advanced that."
"Does she know of this?" he exclaimed, in a startled tone.
"No, I kept it from her. It was difficult to do, but I contrived it."
"You were a brave girl, my sister! I don't know who would have acted as you have! All this trouble upon you, and never to worry me with it in your letters!--never to ask me for money to help in the need!"
"I thought you had none to give," she simply said.
"True enough: I had none; but most sisters would have asked for it. I shall repay at once Aunt Bettina; I shall repay, more gradually, to you the half of what my father possessed before this trouble was brought by me upon him. What do you say?--my wife's money? Tush, child! Do you know the amount of the fortune we have come into? It will be but a drop of water in the ocean of that amount. If I did not repay it to you, she would."
Sara looked up.
"My wife knows all. I told her every word."
"O Edward! Before your marriage!"
"Not before. I suppose I ought to have done so, but it would have taken a greater amount of moral courage than I possessed. Icouldn'trisk the losing her. I told her, partially, a short time after our marriage: the full particulars I did not give her until last night."
Last night! Sara was surprised.
"She fell in love with you yesterday, Sara, and I thought well to let her know what you really were--how true you had been to me."
Sara was silent. It was in her nature to be true; and, as she believed, it was in her nature tobe ableto suffer.
"There were times when I felt tempted to wish I had stayed at home and battled with it," resumed Captain Davenal, after a pause. "But in that case the scandal would probably have gone forth to the world. As it was, no living being knew of it, save you and my father."
"And Mr. Alfred King," she said. Another name also occurred to her, but she did not mention it--that of Oswald Cray.
"Alfred King? Sara, my dear, I don't care to enter into particulars with you, but he was with me in the mess; more morally guilty, though less legally so, than I was.Hehas never told it, I can answer for, for his own sake."
"He always spoke to me of being only a sort of agent in the affair," she said. "He intimated that the money was due to other parties."
"Was due from himself, then. But it is over and done with: let it drop. And now, Sara, you must allow me to ask you a personal question: are you still engaged to Oswald Cray?"
The demand was so unexpected, the subject so painful, that Sara felt the life-blood leave her heart for her face. "I am not engaged to Oswald Cray," she said in a low tone. "I--I cannot say that I ever was engaged to him."
A pause. "But--surely there was some attachment?"
"A little: in the old days. It is very long ago now. How did you know of it?"
"Oswald Cray himself told me. It was the evening we went up to town together after Caroline's wedding. He knew I was going out immediately with the regiment, and he gave me a hint of how it was between you. Only a hint; nothing more. I suppose--I suppose," more slowly added Captain Davenal, "that this miserable business of mine broke it off. I conclude that when Oswald found at my father's death that you had no money he declined the compact. It's the way of the world."
"Not so. No. I do not think money or the want of it, would have any influence on Oswald Cray. In this case it certainly had not. We had parted before papa died."
"What then was the cause, Sara?"
Should she tell him?--that it was his conduct broke it off? Better not, perhaps; it could do no earthly good and would be only adding pain to pain.
"It is a thing of the past now, Edward; let it remain so. The cause that parted us was one that could not be got over. We are friends still, though we do not often meet. More than that we can never be."
Captain Davenal was sorry to hear it. Thoughtless and imprudent as he was by nature himself, he could not but be aware of the value of Oswald Cray. Such a man would make the happiness--and guard it--of any woman.
"I think I had better mention one fact to you, Edward," she resumed, after some moments given to the matter in her own mind. "You have been assuming that no one was cognisant of that business of yours, except papa, myself, and Mr. Alfred King; but----"
"No other living soul was cognisant of it," interrupted Captain Davenal. "My father's promptitude stopped it."
"Oswald Cray knew of it."
"Impossible!" he said, recovering from a pause of surprise.
"He did indeed. I am not sure that he knew the exact particulars, but he knew a very great deal. I believe--I fancy--that he had gathered even a worse impression of it than the case actually warranted."
Captain Davenal was incredulous. "From whom did he learn it?"
"I cannot tell you. I have always feared that, as he knew it, it must have been known to others."
"I tell you, Sara, that beyond you and my father, and King, nobody in the world knew of it. You are under some mistake. Oswald Cray could not have known of it."
"Nay then, Edward, as it has come so far I will tell you the truth. Oswald Cray did know of it, and it was that, and nothing else, that caused us to part. He--he thought, after that, that I was no fit wife for him," she added in a low tone of pain. "And in truth I was not."
A pause of distress. "Unfit as my sister?"
"Yes. I suppose he feared that the crime might at any time be disclosed to the world."
"Buthowcould he have known it?" reiterated Captain Davenal, the one surprise overwhelming every other emotion in his mind. "King Iknowwould not tell; for his own sake he dared not: and we may be very sure my father did not. He sacrificed himself to retain it a secret."
"That Oswald Cray knew of it I can assure you," she repeated. "He must have known of it as soon--or almost as soon--as we did. From that night that you came down to Hallingham in secret his behaviour changed; and a little later, when a sort of explanation took place between us, he spoke to me of what had come to his knowledge. I know no more."
"Well, it is beyond my comprehension," said Captain Davenal; "it passes belief. Good Heavens! if Oswald Cray knew it, where's my security that others do not? I must look into this."
He was about to go off in impulsive haste, probably to seek Oswald Cray, but Sara detained him. The uncertain doubt, the dread lying most heavy on her heart, was not spoken yet.
"Don't go, Edward. You will regard me as a bird of ill-omen, I fear, but I have something to say to you on a subject as unpleasant as this, though of a totally different nature."
"No crime, I hope," he remarked in a joking tone, as he reseated himself. It was utterly impossible for Edward Davenal to remain sober and serious long.
"It would be a crime--if it were true."
"Well, say on, Sara: I am all attention. I have been guilty of a thousand and one acts of folly in my life; never but of one crime. And that I was drawn into."
Captain Davenal did right to bid her "say on," for she seemed to have no inclination to say anything; or else to be uncertain in what words to clothe it. It was a decidedly unpleasant topic, and her colour went and came.
"I would not mention it, Edward, if I were not obliged; if I did not fear consequences for you now you have come home," she begun. "It has been weighing me down a long, long while, and I have had to bear it, saying nothing----"
"Has some private debt turned up against me?" he cried hastily. "I thought I had not one out in the European world. I'll settle it tomorrow, Sara, whatever it may be."
"It is not debt at all. It is----"
Sara stopped, partly with emotion, partly from her excessive reluctance to approach the topic. Should it prove to be altogether some mistake, a feeling of shame would rest upon her for having whispered it.
"It's what? Why don't you go on?"
"I must go on if I am to tell you," she resumed, rallying her courage. "Did you ever, before you went out--marryanybody?"
"Did I--what?" he returned, looking up with an exceedingly amused expression on his face.
"O Edward, you heard."
"If I heard I did not understand. What do you mean? Why do you ask me so foolish a question?"
"You have not answered it," she continued in a low voice.
Captain Davenal noted for the first time the changing hue of her face, the troubled eye, the shrinking, timid manner. His mood changed to seriousness.
"Sara, whatdoyou mean? Did I marry anybody before I went out, you ask? I neither married anybody, nor promised marriage. I--Halloa! you don't mean that I am about to have a breach of promise brought against me?"
The notion was so amusing to Captain Davenal that he burst into a laugh. Sara shook her head; and when his laugh had subsided she bent her cheek upon her hand, and related to him, calmly and quietly, what had occurred. The Captain was excessively amused: he could not be brought to regard the tale in any other light than as a joke.
"What do you say the lady's name was? Catherine what?"
"Catherine Wentworth."
"Catherine Wentworth?" he deliberated. "I never heard the name before in my life; never knew any one bearing it. Why, Sara, you do not mean to say this has seriously troubled you?"
"It has very seriously troubled me. At times, what with one dread and another, I seemed to have more upon me than I could bear. I had no one to whom I could tell the trouble and the doubt: I dared not write it to you, lest your wife should get hold of the letter."
"And if she had? What then?"
"If she had?" repeated Sara. "Do you forget the charge?"
"It's too laughable for me to forget it. Rose would have laughed at it with me. Sara, my dear, rely upon it this has arisen from some queer mistake."
His open countenance, the utter absence of all symptom of fear, the cool manner in which he treated it, caused Sara to breathe a sigh of relief. Half her doubts had vanished.
"The strange thing is, why she should make the charge--why she should say she was your wife. It was not done to extort money, for she has never asked for a farthing. She said papa knew of the marriage."
"Did she?" was the retort, delivered lightly. "Did she tell all this to you?"
"Not to me. I have never spoken to her; I told you so. What I have learnt, I learnt through Neal."
Captain Davenal paused in reflection. "Who knows but that gentleman may be at the bottom of it?" he said at length. "If he opens desks--I don't say he does, I sayifhe does--he might get up this tale."
"And his motive?" returned Sara, not agreeing with the proposition.
"Nay, I don't know."
"But Neal did not come forward with the tale. It was in consequence of what I accidentally heard her say that I questioned Neal; and I must do him the justice to declare that it was with very great reluctance he would answer me. I heard Neal tell her, apparently in answer to a question, that there was no doubt Captain Davenal was married; that he had married a Miss Reid, an heiress. She replied that she would have satisfaction, no matter what punishment it brought him (you) to."
"And Neal afterwards assured you that she was Captain Davenal's wife?"
"Neal assured me thatshe saidshe was. Neal himself said he did not believe her to be so; he thought there must be some mistake. She declared she had been married to you nearly a twelvemonth before you quitted Europe, and that Dr. Davenal knew of it."
"The story-telling little hussy!"
"Edward, I confess to you that I never so much as thought of its not being true in that first moment! I think fear must have taken possession of me and overpowered my judgment."
"You should have written to me, Sara."
"I have told you why I did not: lest the letter should fall into the hands of your wife. And I believe that a dread of its truth made me shrink from approaching it. That very same day I saw the young person come out of the War Office. I did not know, and don't know, whether it is the proper place to lodge complaints against officers, but I supposed she had been to lodge one against you."
"And you have seen her here since, at the house?"
"Occasionally. She has never been troublesome. She has come, apparently, to say a word or two to Neal. I have never questioned him upon the visits: I have dreaded the subject too much. Only yesterday I saw Neal speaking with her at the corner of the street."
"Well, Sara, I shall sift this."
She lifted her head. "Yes?"
"I shall. It wouldnothave been pleasant had the rumour reached the ears of my wife."
He walked to the window and stood there a moment or two, a flush upon his face, a frown upon his brow. When he turned round again he was laughing.
"Did Aunt Bett hear of this!"
"O no."
"She'dhave taken it for granted it was true. Had anybody told her in the old days that I had married sixteen wives, and then set the town on fire with a lighted torch, Aunt Bett would have believed it of me. But, Sara, I am surprised at you."
She glanced at him with a faint smile: not liking to say that the dreadful business, the secret of that past night, which had no doubt helped to send Dr. Davenal to his grave, had, at the time, somewhat shaken her faith in her gallant brother. But for that terrible blow, she had never given a moment's credit to this.
Captain Davenal had made light of the matter to his sister. Knowing how unfounded was the charge, the whole thing struck him as being so absurd, so improbable, that his mind could but receive it as a jest. Nevertheless, upon reflection, he saw that it might prove a subject of serious annoyance: such charges, especially if maliciously made and well planned, sometimes cost a world of trouble in their refutation.
He had said it was his intention to sift it. Sara suggested that he should do what she had shrunk from doing--question Neal. Captain Davenal hesitated. If there were any foundation for his suspicion that Mr. Neal might have had something to do with making the charge, it would not perhaps be policy to speak to that gentleman in the present stage of the affair. Better try by some other means to find out who the young woman was, and all about her. It is true that without the help of Neal Captain Davenal did not see his way clear to accomplish this: to seek for an unknown young woman in London, one to whom he had no clue, was something equivalent to that traditional search, the hunting for a needle in a bottle of hay.
"I wonder if Dorcas could tell us anything about her?" he exclaimed, ringing the bell upon impulse, as he did most things. And when Dorcas appeared in answer to it, he plunged into a sea of questions that had only the effect of bewildering her.
"You must know her, Dorcas," interposed Sara. "It is a young woman, rather nice-looking, who has come here occasionally to see Neal. She generally wears large shawls that trail on the ground. Captain Davenal has a reason for wishing to know who she is."
"You must mean Mrs. Wentworth, Miss Sara."
"Mrs. Wentworth! Is that her name?" repeated Sara, feeling a sort of relief that the servant had not said Mrs. Davenal.
"That's her name, Miss. She is an officer's wife, and is in some trouble about him. I believe Neal is her uncle."
Sara looked up. "Neal told my aunt that the young person was not his niece."
"Well, I don't know," said Dorcas; "I think she is his niece: at any rate, I have heard her call him uncle. I heard her call him wide no longer ago than last night, Miss Sara."
"Where was that?" interposed Captain Davenal.
"It was here, sir. She called to see Neal. I was passing downstairs at the time from Mrs. Cray's room, and it seemed to me that there was some dispute occurring between them. She asked Neal to tell her where Captain Davenal was staying, and Neal refused. He said she should not go troubling Captain Davenal."
A pause from all. Sara's face grew troubled again.
"What did she want with me?" asked the captain.
"I don't know, sir," replied Dorcas. "I only heard that much in passing. I was carrying Mrs. Cray's tea-tray down."
"Do you know where she lives, this Mrs. Wentworth?"
"Not at all, sir. I have never known that."
"Edward, she is evidently looking out for you!" exclaimed Sara, as Dorcas retired.
"I hope and trust she is, and that she'll speedily find me," was the retort of Captain Davenal. "Nothing should I like better than to find her. I have a great mind to ask Neal openly what it all is, and insist upon an answer."
There was no opportunity for further conversation then. Mark Cray came in. Captain Davenal did not think him improved in anyway. There was less of openness in his manner than formerly, and he rather appeared to evade Captain Davenal, quitting his presence as soon as he conveniently could. The next to enter was Miss Bettina. It was the first time she had met her nephew, and she was disposed to be cordial. Miss Bettina had gone forth that morning to visit his young wife, entertaining a secret prejudice against her, and she returned home liking her. The little baby had been named Richard, too, and that gratified her.
A short while later, and Captain Davenal and his sister stood in the presence of this very young woman, Catherine Wentworth. In a room in Lady Reid's house, when they reached it--for Sara walked home with him--she was waiting. She had gone there inquiring for Captain Davenal, and upon being told Captain Davenal was out, she asked to be allowed to wait for him.
The sequel of this episode is so very matter-of-fact, so devoid of romance, that some of you, my readers, may think it might have been as well never to have introduced it. But in that case what would become of the closing history of Neal? It was quite necessary, if that gentleman was to have a faithful biographer.
Sara Davenal sat, the white strings of her bonnet untied, wiping the drops of moisture from her relieved brow. So intense was the relief that when the first few moments of thankfulness were past, she looked back with a feeling of anger that her mind's peace, for long long months, should have been disturbed so unnecessarily.
They were talking fast, this young woman and Captain Davenal. Shehadgone to Miss Davenal's house over and over again to inquire after him; she had handed Neal more than one letter to forward to him to India; she had been at the house the previous night, demanding to know where the captain was staying, and saying that shewouldsee him; and she had this morning found out his address at Lady Reid's, and had waited until he came in.
But all for an innocent and legitimate purpose. Mrs. Wentworth--and she was Mrs. Wentworth--had never seen Captain Davenal in her life before; had never pretended that she had; she was only seeking him now to get from him some information of her real husband, Sergeant-Major Wentworth, of Captain Davenal's regiment.
One train of thought leads to another. Captain Davenal remembered now to have heard that the sergeant-major, a very respectable man, had voluntarily separated himself from his wife, and left her behind him in England when their regiment sailed for India, in consequence of some misconduct on her part. He stood there face to face with the young woman, trying to reconcile this plain statement of facts with the account of past assertions related to him by Sara.
"You are Sergeant-Major Wentworth's wife, you say," observed Captain Davenal, regarding her narrowly, watching every word that fell from her lips. If there had been any conspiracy between her and Neal to undermine his sister's peace, he felt that he should like to punish both of them. Sara had had enough of real troubles to bear, without having false ones brought upon her.
"Yes, I am," she replied. She had a wonderfully pretty face, now that it could be seen without her veil, and her manners were pleasing--nay, ladylike. But still there was the look of general untidiness about her that Sara had noticed before, though she did not wear a shawl today, but a black cloth mantle, cut in the mode.
"May I ask if you ever allowed it to be understood that you were anybody else's wife?" rejoined Captain Davenal, putting the question in the most convenient form he could, and in a half-jesting tone.
"Anybody else's wife?" she repeated, as if not understanding.
"Ay; mine, for instance?"
"Why, of course I never did. I don't know what you mean, sir."
"Does Neal know you are Sergeant-Major Wentworth's wife?"
"O dear, yes. I have done nothing a long while but beseech of him to write to you, sir, and ask if you would speak in my behalf to Wentworth, and make him allow me more, or else let me go out to him in India."
Sara interposed. It might not be wise in her, but she could not help herself: "I once accidentally heard a conversation of yours with Neal. You were speaking of this gentleman, Captain Davenal; it was the very day that we had heard news of his marriage with Miss Reid. I remember you said something to the effect that you would have satisfaction, cost what punishment it would to him. Did you allude to your husband?"
"Yes, I did," the girl replied. "And I hope he will be punished yet. I remember the time too. I had had a letter that morning from one of the women who went with the regiment, a soldier's wife. She spoke of my husband in it in a way that vexed me; and she said, amidst other news, that their Captain--Captain Davenal--had just got married. The letter put me up to think that perhaps Captain Davenal could do some good for me with my husband, and I came off at once to Neal and asked him. Neal said he should not trouble Captain Davenal with anything of the sort; and the answer made me angry, and I reminded Mr. Neal that I could say one or two things about him that might not be pleasant if I chose to be ill-natured; and at last he promised to send a letter for me to Captain Davenal, enclosed in one from himself, if I liked to write and state the case. I remember quite well saying that I would have satisfaction somehow, no matter what the punishment to Wentworth. Did my letters ever reach you, sir? I wrote two or three."
"Never."
"Like enough Neal never sent them," she exclaimed with an angry toss. "He said he did; and I have been always asking him whether he received no answer for me."
"Is Neal your uncle, Mrs. Wentworth?"
"I call him so sometimes, sir, when I want to be pleasant with him, but in point of fact he is no real relation. My step-mother is his sister; and that makes him a sort of uncle-in-law."
"And you have not--excuse my pressing the question, Mrs. Wentworth, but I have a reason for it--given Neal reason to suppose that you were ever married to any one except Sergeant-Major Wentworth?" resumed Captain Davenal.
"Never in my life, sir," she replied, and her accent of truth was unmistakable. "Say to Neal that I was married to anybody else! What for? It would be childish to say it; he knows quite well that I was married to Serjeant Wentworth. He was not serjeant-major then."
The falsehood then had been Neal's! Captain Davenal glanced at Sara. But the sergeant's wife spoke again.
"Could you interest yourself for me with Wentworth, sir?"
"Ah, I don't know. It is a ticklish thing, you see, to interfere between man and wife," added the captain, a jesting smile upon his lips. "What is your grievance against Wentworth?"
Mrs. Wentworth entered on her grievances; a whole catalogue. She required that her husband should send for her to be with him in India, or else that he should make her a better allowance, so that she could live "as a lady." She knew he got plenty of prize-money she said, for she had been told so; and she finished up with stating that she had been to the War Office, and to half-a-dozen other offices to complain of him, and could get no redress.
"Well," said Captain Davenal, "I'll tell you what I'll do: will write to your husband--a man for whom I have great respect,--and inquire his version of the quarrel between you. We should always hear both sides of a question, you know, Mrs. Wentworth. When I get his answer, you shall hear from me. To be candid with you, I must say that I don't think Wentworth is one to allow of much interference. He has good judgment, and he likes to exercise it. But I will write to him."
"And you'll promise to see me again, sir, in spite of Neal? What his objection was, I don't know, but he did all he could to prevent my seeing you."
"I don't think you need fear Neal's prevention for the future in regard to seeing me," said Captain Davenal, in a significant tone, as he civilly bowed out Mrs. Wentworth.
"Well, Sara, and what do you think of Neal now?"
"I can't understand it; I can't understand why he should have said it, or what his motive was," slowly replied Sara. "Oh, if he only knew the cruel days and nights it caused me to pass. Shall you tell Aunt Bettina of Neal's falsity?"
"Tell her!" repeated Captain Davenal. "Do you think I can allow her and you to be any longer under the same roof with a villain such as Neal?"
Not to Miss Bettina, however, did Captain Davenal at once take his way, but to Parliament Street. The revelation of Sara that morning--that the one dark episode in his own past history had been known to Oswald Cray--was troubling Edward Davenal's mind far more than any sense of the inconvenience wrought by Mr. Neal.
They stood together in Oswald's sitting-room, the doors closed. A few words of greeting on both sides, and then the captain plunged wholesale, without any ceremony or preparation, into the object which had brought him.
"I have come to ask you a question," he began, dropping his voice to a confidential whisper. "How did you become acquainted with that miserable business of mine?"
"With what miserable business?" returned Oswald, in surprise.
"Don't you recall what I mean? That affair that swamped me. Or, I'm sure I may better say, swamped my father. The--the--those bills, you know."
Oswald did not know in the least. And said so.
"Hang it, Cray," exclaimed the captain, "why force a man to speak out? Those forged bills that I put into circulation, and couldn't get back again."
"I protest I do not know what you are talking of," returned Oswald. "I don't understand what it is you would ask me."
"I only ask how you became acquainted with the affair."
"I never was acquainted with the affair: with any affair such as you allude to," persisted Oswald. "I am not acquainted with it now."
"Do you mean to say that you did not become cognisant of that dreadful trouble I got into before leaving England?--The signing of those bills?"
"I never heard of it in my life. I never heard, or knew, that you were in any trouble whatever."
Captain Davenal sat staring at Oswald. How reconcile this denial with Sara's positive assurance of an hour ago? "You are telling me truth?" he cried, with a perplexed air.
"Entire truth," said Oswald. "Why should I not?"
"What then could Sara mean?" debated Captain Davenal aloud. "She tells me that you did know of it."
"Sara tells you so?"
"She does. She says that--I don't see that I need scruple to speak," broke off Captain Davenal, "it's all over and done with, I suppose--Sara says it was your knowledge of the affair that caused the breaking off of the engagement between yourself and her."
Oswald Cray was silent. A doubt crossed him of whether the gallant captain could have received some sabre-cut or sunstroke in India which had affected his brain. Captain Davenal noted his puzzled look, and strove to be more explanatory.
"When you and I were returning to town from Hallingham the night of Caroline's wedding, you hinted that there existed an attachment or engagement between you and Sara. For the first time I spoke of this to Sara this morning. She admitted that something of the kind had existed, but said it was over; and I saw that the subject was painful--one she wished to avoid. So I dropped it. Afterwards, in speaking of this worse business of mine, I observed that it had been known to three people only: my father, Alfred King, and Sara; but Sara interrupted me, saying that it was known to Oswald Cray. I disputed the fact; I said itcould nothave been known to you, but she persisted in her assertion, and finally confessed that it was in consequence of its coming to your knowledge that you broke off the engagement to her, deeming she was not worthy, as my sister, to become your wife. Pardon me yet a moment while I state that I am not here to question the decision; I don't wish to enter upon it at all, except to say that many would have done as you did, after whatI, her brother, had been guilty of. Allthatis apart from the business, and I am only telling you how it came out. Sara assures me that it was the sole cause of breaking off the engagement, and that you must have known of it almost as soon as--as my father knew. Now, I want you to tell me, Mr. Oswald Cray, how and whence that affair came to your knowledge. Have I made myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear, so far as explanation goes; but it is nothing but obscurity to me, for all that. In the first place, allow me to repeat to you that I never knew before now that you were in any trouble whatever. This is my first intimation of it."
"And was it not that knowledge that caused you and Sara to part?"
"It was not. How could it have been when I assure you I did not possess the knowledge? A--a great trouble, of which I would prefer not to speak, did lead to the parting, but it was entirely unconnected with you."
"Well, this is Greek," returned Captain Davenal. "There was no other trouble connected with the family, except mine. I suppose you mean that it was connected with them?"
"Yes."
"With which of them? There was no scapegoat in it except me."
"It was connected with Dr. Davenal," said Oswald reluctantly. "I cannot say more."
"With my father? Nonsense, if you mean anything wrong. A more upright man never breathed. Fancy him sending forth bad bills!"
"I could not fancy him doing so," replied Oswald. "The matter had nothing to do with money."
"I'll lay all I am worth it had to do with me, with my business," impulsively spoke Captain Davenal. "I will tell you how it was----"
"Nay, it is not worth while," was Oswald Cray's interruption, as he thought how very different a thing was Lady Oswald's unhappy death from the topics under discussion. "Believe me, you had not, and could not have had, anything to do with the real question."
"But I'll tell you, now I have begun. I and my choice friend, as I thought him then,"--Captain Davenal spoke with scornful bitterness,--"got into an awful mess together, and could not get out of it. No matter whether it was gambling or horse-racing, or what not; money we were compelled to have. King assured me on his honour that in three weeks' time he should be in the possession of several thousand pounds, if we could only stave off exposure until then, and in an evil hour I yielded to his persuasion and wrote my father's name. The suggestion was King's, the persuasion was King's, the full assurance that all would be well was King's. I don't say this in extenuation of myself; the guilt and madness of yielding were all mine. Well, the days went on, and when the time came, and the thing was on the point of exploding, King had not got the thousands he had counted on: moreover, I found that his expectation of getting them had been from the first very vague indeed, and we had a desperate quarrel. The sneak turned round; threatened me with exposure, with ruin, and I had to go down and confess the truth to my father. He saved me--saved me at the sacrifice of all he had, and, I fear, of his life."
There was a pause. Oswald had grown strangely interested. Captain Davenal continued.
"I shall never forget the effect it had upon him--never, never. I speak only of the hour of the communication; I never saw him after that. I told him there might be trouble with these bills, to get them at all; that even with the money in hand to redeem them I was not sure the consequences could be averted from me. I saw the change pass over his face; the grey, scared look; and it did not quit it again."
"Where did you see him?"
"At Hallingham. I went down at some peril, after leave had been refused me at headquarters, getting to Hallingham about eleven o'clock on a Sunday night. I stayed an hour or so with my father in his study, and then went back to the station again, for I had to be at my post on duty the following morning. No one at home knew of my visit. I tapped at my father's study window and he let me in. Before I left, I asked to see Sara. I knew quite well, though they did not, that I should not go down again, and I did not care to leave for years without saying a word to her, so my father fetched her down from her room. We did not tell her the particulars, only that I had been doing something wrong, was in danger, and that my visit to Hallingham must be kept quiet. My poor father! I remember his asking in a burst of feeling what he had done that all this trouble should fall upon him. Another great trouble had befallen him that night in the death of Lady Oswald."
"Yes?" said Oswald with a calm manner but a beating heart. His thoughts were in that long past night, and Neal's description of it.
"It was very dreadful," resumed Captain Davenal, alluding to the matter of Lady Oswald. "My father was sadly cut up. Mark Cray had killed her through administering the chloroform."
Oswald felt his heart stand still, his face flush with a burning heat. He moved nearer to Captain Davenal: but his voice was quiet still.
"Did you sayMarkadministered the chloroform?"
"It was Mark. Yes. My father said he had especially forbidden Mark Cray to give her chloroform. Mark in the course of the day had proposed doing it, but the doctor warned him that chloroform would not do for Lady Oswald. When all was ready, he (my father) had to carry Lady Oswald's maid from the chamber in a fainting-fit, and when he got back to it he found Mark had administered the chloroform, which he had taken with him to the house surreptitiously, and was commencing the operation. The doctor said he could not make out Mark Cray that night. He was beginning the operation in so unskilful, so unsurgeon-like a manner, that my father had to push him away as he would have pushed a child, and perform it himself. But they could not recover Lady Oswald."
Oswald made no remark. He felt as one stunned.
"It struck me as being a most shocking thing," continued Captain Davenal. "I remarked to my father that it seemed like murder, and he said Yes, he supposed the world would call it such."
"But why did not Dr. Davenal declare the truth--that it was Mark who had given the chloroform?" interrupted Oswald. "Why suffer himself to rest under the imputation?"
"What imputation? There was no imputation to lie under. All the world supposed the chloroform had been rightly and properly administered, according to the best judgment of both of them."
True; true. Oswald Cray had been speaking in accordance with his own private knowledge, not with publicly-known facts.
"My father kept the secret for Mark Cray's sake. If it went forth to the world, he said it would blight Mark's professional career for life. He told me the facts, but he intended to keep them from all others, and he warned me not to divulge them. I never did. I am not sure that I should feel justified in telling even you now, but that Mark is no longer in his profession. My poor father made the remark that they were two heavy secrets for his breast to keep, mine and Mark Cray's."
The murmur of the words fell upon Oswald's ear, but he was as one who heard them not. A weighty amount of self-reproach was rising up within him. Captain Davenal talked on, and then hastened away, for he had Mr. Neal to settle with yet, leaving Oswald alone.
The scales, so long obscuring Oswald Cray's eyes, had fallen from them, and he saw the past in its true colours. The one wondering question that seemed to press upon him now was, how he could ever have doubted Dr. Davenal. Above his own self-reproach; above the bitter feeling of repentance for the wrong he had dealt out to her whom he best loved on earth; above his regrets for the late years wasted in a miserable illusion; was his remorse for having so misjudged that good man, misjudged him even to his grave. He saw it all now: how, when he questioned Dr. Davenal about his motives for administering the fatal medicine, he had taken the odium upon himself for Mark's sake: not even to him, his brother, would he, in his loving-kindness, betray Mark.
Never had the pride, the self-esteem, of Oswald Cray received a blow like unto this. He had plumed himself on his superiority; he had cast off Dr. Davenal as one unworthy of him; he had dared, in his self-sufficiency, to cast off Sara. Her father was a man of suspicion, and therefore she was no fit mate for him! Whereas, Oswald now learnt that it was his own brother who was the offender: Dr. Davenal and his daughter were the victims. The full value, the Christian conduct of that good man was patent to him now; the patient endurance of Sara became clear to him.
He lifted his hat and wiped the moisture from his brow, as he walked through the streets, all these considerations doing battle in his brain. The winter's day was cold, but Oswald's brow was hot; hot with inward fever. He was on his way to Miss Davenal's, to seek a conference with his half-brother: there were one or two questions he would put to him. He had taken his hat and come out the moment Captain Davenal left him: business and all else gave way before this.