Kilspindie sighed. "No chance of getting it back," he murmured; "and the luck will still be bad."
"The luck!" echoed Sybil, catching the word.
"You will think me superstitious," he said, witha smile; "but the fact is that the cup is said to be a fairy gift, and has been in our family for generations. The luck of the family goes with the cup."
"Like the luck of Edenhall!" said Sybil, remembering Longfellow's poem.
"Precisely," responded Kilspindie. "The legend is a curious one. I must tell it to you some time. Of course my opinion is that the cup is of Roman manufacture. I recognised it from its description, and especially from the Latin motto you set down in the advertisement. I think that goblet was dedicated to Bacchus, and was probably lost by some Roman general when Scotland was invaded by the Cæsars."
All this time Mr Tempest was trying to recover from the horror of his thoughts. "A pagan cup!" he gasped, "and a stolen cup! Oh, my lord, and it was used as a communion cup. Pratt said that he had brought it from Italy, where it was so used by the Romish Church. I thought it was sanctified by such a use, and did not hesitate to put it again on the altar. I really don't know what to say. It is like sacrilege."
"I am sorry, Mr Tempest. But the cup has been at Kilspindie Castle for five hundred years. It never was used in the service of the Church. Over twenty years ago it was stolen by a woman."
"By a woman," echoed Sybil. She had quite expected to hear Pratt's name.
"Before you begin your story, my lord," said the vicar, "will you please inform me how you came to know of the loss of the cup?"
"I have already done so, Mr Tempest. I saw the advertisement offering a reward for its recovery. The description and the quotation of the Latin motto were sufficient to show me that it was my heirloom. I wrote to the office of the paper, and afterwards received a letter from Miss Tempest, here, asking me to call. I have taken up my abode at the inn, as I may stay here for a few days. I want to know all I can about the matter. If I can only trace and recover the cup through your agency I shall be eternally your debtor."
"I cannot tell you more than I have related," replied the vicar. "This man Pratt took back the cup, and is now in London—where, no one knows. I fear the cup is as lost as though it had been swallowed up by the ocean!"
"It is enough that I know in whose possession it is," said Kilspindie, with determination. "In some way or another I shall find this man. For I may tell you, Mr Tempest, that, besides the recovery of a familytreasure, I have another and more important object in view—the recovery of my son, who was stolen from me at the time the cup disappeared."
Tempest expressed much astonishment at this information, and Sybil opened her eyes wide. She had never thought that her attempt to clear the character of her lover would lead to such a result. Neither she nor her father knew what to say, and, seeing them silent, Lord Kilspindie continued to speak.
"How the cup came into the possession of this man I cannot say. It was taken from the castle by a nurse called Janet Grant, who also carried away the child."
"Why did she do that?" asked Sybil, horrified.
"Out of revenge for a fancied slight she received from my wife," replied Kilspindie, with a sigh; "but it is best I should tell you all from the beginning. First, you must know the legend of the cup, that you may understand the value we Grants attach to its possession."
"I am fond of folk-lore," murmured the vicar, settling himself down for a pleasant half-hour. "Your family name is Grant, then, my lord?"
"Yes. Our title is Kilspindie, an earldom. My son who was stolen—my only son and only child, alas!—is Lord Morven, if he be still alive. But who knows if I shall ever see him again?"
"Hope for the best," said the vicar, gently. "God is over all!"
"You are right, Mr Tempest. But how many weary years have I waited, and have had to comfort myself in that fashion. Now, when I had lost all hope, theadvertisement roused it again. If I find the cup I may discover my boy, or, at all events, I may find out if he is alive or dead."
"I am sure he is alive," said Sybil, impulsively. "Dear Lord Kilspindie, if there was no chance of your finding him I should not have been guided to put in that advertisement. It was entirely my own doing, and had I consulted with my father it would never have appeared."
"It certainly would not," said the vicar, promptly. "I had placed the matter in the hands of Mr Marton, and I was angry when I saw the advertisement—very angry, indeed."
"You must not be angry any more, Mr Tempest," said Kilspindie, with a smile, "seeing that it may lead to the discovery of my son. I owe much to Miss Tempest's indiscretion, as you no doubt call it."
"No," said Sybil, resolutely; "I am sure papa does not call it that. I did it to help Leo, and I would do it again. But tell us the legend, Lord Kilspindie."
The old man laughed. "If you have not the imagination of the Celt you will think it but a poor thing," he said. "In the days of Bruce, and on the Border, Nigel Grant, the head of the clan—my ancestor, Mr Tempest—was riding home from a foray against the English. He had been successful, and had collected a large mob of cattle, which were being driven to the castle by his followers. He was anxious to get home, for when he had left, two weeks previously, his wife was expected to give birth to a child. The chief eagerly desired that it might be aboy, for he had few relatives, and those he had were his bitterest enemies."
"What!" said Tempest, "and the Scotch so clannish?"
"They are more clannish in the Highlands than on the Border," replied the old lord. "Many of the Border families fought with one another. My clan did also for many a long day, although they are friendly enough now. However, you know the reason that Nigel Grant was so eager for an heir."
"Wouldn't a girl have done?" asked Sybil mischievously.
"By no means. The chief wanted a brave boy, to bestride a horse and wield a sword, and govern the unruly Grant clan with a strong hand. He had prayed to the Virgin to give him his heart's desire—they were all Roman Catholics in those days, remember. So you may guess he rode home at top speed, and as he neared the castle he was far in advance of his followers and alone. And then came the fairies."
"The fairies!" echoed Sybil. "This is interesting," and she laughed.
"We call them the Good Neighbours in Scotland, you know, because the fairies don't like to be talked about with disrespect. But to go on with my story. Nigel Grant was on a wide moor all alone, although the lances of his men-at-arms glittered on the verge of the horizon. Suddenly—from the viewless air, apparently, since there was no rock or tree or shelter of any kind—there appeared a small woman dressed in green, with a golden crown. At the sight of her thechief's horse stopped all at once, as though stricken into stone. The fairy queen—for it was she, the same, I suppose, who appeared to Thomas the Rhymer."
"Ah!shewas mounted on a horse!" said Sybil, half to herself.
"Indeed? Well, this queen was on foot, and in her arms she carried a child. Stopping before Nigel, she placed the child on his saddle-bow, and told him to take it home for a year and a day. 'If it returns to us safe and sound,' she continued, 'great good fortune will befall the Grants. But if anything wrong is done to it, then will sorrow come.' So speaking she vanished, and the horse, suddenly regaining motion, galloped home to the castle, bearing the amazed chief with his child in his arms."
"His child, my lord?" asked the vicar, smiling.
"It had to be his child for a year and a day. He found that during his absence his wife had given birth to a fine boy, but that a day or so after it was born the cradle was found empty. Lady Grant was in a great state of terror, as you may imagine. When the chief told his story she declared that her child had been carried off by the Good Neighbours. It was her wish to kill the changeling. But this the chief, mindful of the prophecy, would not permit. It was supposed that the fairy child required to be nursed by a mortal woman, and this was why the chief's boy had been carried away."
"I never heard that version of the old story before," said Tempest.
"No? It is usually said that the fairies want the child for themselves. But in this story what I have told you was believed. Lady Grant, hoping to get back her own child in a year and a day, nursed the changeling. It was a peevish, cross, whimpering creature, and marvellously ugly. But when she fed it with her milk it grew fat and strong, and became good-tempered.
"On the night when the year and a day were up, there was heard the sound of galloping horses round the castle. A wind swept into the rooms and down the corridors. Everyone in the castle fell into a magic sleep. But in the morning the true child was found smiling in his cradle and the fairy changeling was gone. In the cradle also was the cup I am seeking, and a scroll saying that while it was kept in the family no ill would befall, but that if lost the line would be in danger of extinction."
"And did the prophecy ever come true?" asked Sybil.
"Twice," replied Kilspindie, with the most profound conviction. "In the reign of the first James of Scotland the cup was stolen, and three brothers of the chief were slain in battle. Only the child of one of them lived, for the chief had no family. Then the cup was brought back—I could tell you how, but the story is too long—and the child was spared to become the father of a large family."
"And the second time?" asked Tempest, wondering how much of this wild tale the old lord believed.
"The second time was in the reign of Henry VIII.The castle was sacked and the cup taken. All the family were killed, but the nurse managed to save one child, with whom she fled. After a series of adventures the cup was restored and the child regained his inheritance."
"How strange!" said Sybil. "And now that the cup is lost again?"
Kilspindie smiled. "Well, you see, Miss Tempest, I have but one son and he is lost. If I do not find him the title and estates must go to a distant cousin, and the prophecy of the fairies will be fulfilled. That is why I am so anxious to get the cup. If I can find it and bring it back to Kilspindie Castle, I am certain that I shall find my boy."
"A wild story," said the vicar, after a pause. "There is oftentimes a grain of truth in these folktales. But tell me, how came it that the cup was stolen the third time?"
"I am about to tell you," replied the visitor. "There was a woman called Janet Grant, the daughter of one of my tenants. She was in service at my place, but after some years she became weary of the dull life. We are not very lively up in the north," said Kilspindie, with a laugh. "However, this woman got tired and went up to London. There, I believe, she obtained a situation, but what her life was while absent I do not know. She was always reticent on the point. After six years she returned. In the interval I had married, and at the time Janet returned, or a year before, my wife became a mother. I was the father of a splendid boy, my son and heir, Lord Morven.Janet was taken back into my service as an under nurse, for she was a very capable woman."
"Had she a good temper?" asked Sybil, guessing what was coming.
"One of the worst tempers in the world. Also she was evil in her disposition. Had I known then what was told to me afterwards by the other servants, she should never have re-entered my service. But they were all afraid of Janet and her wicked ways, and therefore remained silent when it was their duty to speak out. When the boy was two years of age, or it may be a trifle over, the head nurse died. Janet expected to succeed, but my wife appointed another woman."
"She did not trust Janet," hinted the vicar.
"No. By this time Janet was not so careful in her behaviour, and my wife began to suspect her true character. Janet was very angry at the slight—as she called it—and swore she would be revenged. Of course, she knew the legend of the cup, so it struck her, no doubt, that if she stole the cup the usual disaster would follow."
"What superstition!" murmured Mr Tempest.
"Well, I don't know, sir," said Kilspindie, quietly. "You see, Mr Tempest, we had chapter and verse for what might happen. However, Janet, out of revenge, took away the child and stole the cup. She had no difficulty in doing either. The cup was placed in the picture gallery under a glass shade, for no one ever expected that it would be stolen. It was not guarded so carefully as it should have been. Butwho would have thought that any one of my faithful servants would steal? As to the child, Janet was one day sent out with him. The head nurse remained at home. I believe she then took the cup with her. At all events she never returned, and when a search was made both the child and the cup were missing." Here Lord Kilspindie stopped and shook his head.
"What happened after that?" asked Sybil, curiously.
"There is no more to tell, Miss Tempest. The woman vanished utterly with the child and the cup. My wife, poor soul, died of grief. I employed all manner of means to find the woman, but without result. I even offered a reward and a pardon if she would bring back what she had taken. But she gave no sign of her existence. Well"—Kilspindie sighed—"that is all. I have been a lonely man for over twenty years, and things have gone wrong with me in every way. I am certain that prosperity will not return to me and mine until the cup is brought back. Then I may hope to recover my son. You can understand now how anxious I am to find this man Pratt. I would willingly pardon him all if he would give back the cup."
"I wonder how he became possessed of it?" said Tempest.
"Ah!" said Kilspindie, "that is what we must find out. He seems to be an accomplished thief, so it may be that he stole the cup. On the other hand, Janet, finding herself hard up, may have pawned it, and Pratt may have got it into his possession in that way. You tell me that he has a love for beautiful things."
"Such a love," said the vicar, sadly, "that he is willing to be a thief to obtain them. Well, my lord, at present I do not see how we can help you."
"There is one way," said Kilspindie, after a pause. "Give me a letter to this Mr Marton, and with his aid I may succeed in tracing Pratt. In the meantime I intend to wait here for a few days. At my age I am not able to get about so rapidly as I once did."
The man did indeed look old and worn-out. But he was a fine, courtly gentleman of what is called the old school, and Sybil was quite fascinated with him. After some further conversation it was arranged that he should remain at the inn until the end of the week—it was now Wednesday—and that afterwards the vicar should accompany him to London to introduce him personally to Marton. Leaving her father and Kilspindie together, Sybil went to her room to think over the strange episode which was the outcome of her advertisement.
She was anxious to tell Leo all about it, but he was at Portfront, and she had received no letter from him. Sybil wondered at this, as it was not like Leo to neglect her. For the moment she was inclined to drive to Portfront and see him. He had given her no reason for his departure, and she was becoming anxious about him. Mrs Gabriel still remained in seclusion, and, so far as Sybil knew, Leo had never been to see her. It was therefore no use talking to Mrs Gabriel about the man she had so cruelly cast off. Her father she could not appeal to because, although he wished to make amends to Leo for his unjust suspicions, he didnot wish him to marry her, and would therefore do nothing likely to bring them together. In this dilemma it struck Sybil that she might see Raston; he was a kindly creature, and all through the dark day had believed in Haverleigh's innocence. She thought that Raston might be induced to bring Leo back from Portfront, so Sybil put on her hat and sought out the curate. He was at home and delighted to see her.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Tempest," he said, wheeling the armchair forward. "I hope there is nothing wrong."
"Why should there be anything wrong?" asked Sybil, smiling.
Raston passed his hand across his forehead with a troubled air. "This fact is I do not feel well this morning," he said. "I have received a letter from Town which has worried me. But do not let me inflict my troubles on you, Miss Tempest. What can I do?"
"I'll tell you, Mr Raston. But, first of all, you must promise to keep all I tell you a secret. I don't think I am breaking confidence in saying what is in my mind, as I gave no promise of secrecy. But I must tell you all, as you are the only person who can advise me."
"I promise to keep your secret, whatever it may be, Miss Tempest."
"Then listen to the latest information about the cup," said Sybil, and forthwith related to Raston the news of Lord Kilspindie's arrival, and how he had been brought to Colester by means of the advertisement.Having made this preliminary explanation, she related the story which had been told to her father and herself. As no promise of secrecy had been given, Sybil did not think she was doing wrong; and, besides, it was necessary for Raston to know all the details before he could help her to bring Leo back. Finally, she had the utmost confidence in the curate's silence.
"It is a most extraordinary story," he said, when she had finished; "and more curious still—" here he stopped short and considered. "I can tell you what is in my mind later," he said; "at present you must let me know in what way I can serve you."
"I want you to help me with Leo," said Sybil, promptly. "For some reason he has gone to Portfront and is stopping there. I would go over myself and bring him back, but I am afraid of offending my father. I want Leo to be introduced to Lord Kilspindie."
"For what reason, Miss Tempest?"
Sybil looked at the ground, and began to draw diagrams with a dainty shoe. "Well, Mr Raston, you know that I want to marry Leo," she said, with a blush, "and at present there are so many obstacles to our engagement. My father is not so just towards Leo as he should be. I suppose this is because he is poor and has no prospects. If he enlists and goes to the war, I do not see how that will bring us together. Even if he gets a commission I cannot marry him. There will not be enough money. Now, I thought that as I had done something to bring Lord Kilspindiea chance of getting back the cup, he might be induced to do something for myself and Leo."
"Something might come of it, certainly, Miss Tempest."
"I am sure Lord Kilspindie is very kind," she said in a feminine way. "He looks kind. Leo has delightful manners, as you know, Mr Raston. He is clever in his own way and well educated. Lord Kilspindie might take a fancy to him and make him a secretary or something. At all events, he might put him in the way of earning money, for I am sure that Lord Kilspindie has power as well as wealth."
"Then you want Leo to come back and meet him?"
"Yes. You must tell him all I have told you, and say that if he loves me he must come back at once."
"I shall do what you say, Miss Tempest, and if I can induce Leo to return he certainly shall. I do not know why he went to Portfront. His name was cleared, and he need have had no hesitation in remaining at Colester."
"I'm sure I don't know what is the matter with him," said Sybil, with a sigh; "he has been so strange lately. I am sure he is keeping something from me. But if I get him to myself I'll find out what it is. But youwillgo to Portfront, Mr Raston?"
"Yes. This afternoon. In fact, I was going that way in any case, Miss Tempest, as I intend to journey to London."
"Why are you going to London?" asked Sybil in surprise. She knew that Raston rarely went to the great city.
The curate hesitated again and rubbed his hair in a distracted way. "I would rather you did not ask me, Miss Tempest," he said at length. "I am going to London in answer to a letter. I hope to be back on Saturday. I have to preach on Sunday, as you know. The vicar said something about taking a service at Portfront."
"As Lord Kilspindie will be at church on Sunday," said Sybil, "I think papa will stay. He looks upon Lord Kilspindie as his guest."
"Well, in any case I'll be back," said the curate, with a nod; "then I shall be able to tell you the reason I had to go. In the meantime, Miss Tempest, I wish you would see Pearl Darry occasionally. She goes wandering about the moor lamenting her lost soul, poor creature. I have been with her a good deal, but while I am away she may do something desperate. You see her, Miss Tempest, and persuade her that she is under the care of the Master."
"I'll do my best," replied Sybil; "but I am afraid I am not good enough to preach, Mr Raston. What a shame of Mrs Jeal to put these ideas into the girl's head! She knew that Pearl was not sane, and to make her think such things was downright dangerous."
"I know." Raston sighed. "If we could only get back the cup, Pearl would be satisfied that the Master is pleased with her and has taken her into favour again. Then she would recover her old faith in the goodness and love of God which Mrs Jeal, with the best intentions, no doubt, has destroyed. I cannot think Mrs Jeal is a good woman."
"I am sure she is a very bad one," said Sybil, emphatically. "However, I'll do as you wish, Mr Raston. Good-day. A pleasant journey," and she departed.
The curate took out a letter, glanced at it, shook his head. He was puzzled by the communication, and knew not what to make of it.
That same afternoon Raston notified the vicar that he was going for a few days to London. On the understanding that the young man would be back for morning service on Sunday, the vicar readily consented that he should go. Raston forthwith packed his bag, and driving to Portfront stayed there the night. But for Sybil's message he would have waited until the next day, and have gone directly to London without pausing on the way. However, he wished to have a talk with Leo, both on account of Sybil's message and because he wanted to consult with the young man about the letter which worried him. This entailed a long conversation, so Raston put up at the hotel at which Leo was staying, and sent a message that he wanted to see Mr Haverleigh.
Leo made his appearance, looking haggard and worried, and very much unlike his usual self. He seemed nervous on seeing Raston, and hurriedly approached him as though he expected to hear bad news. The events of the last few weeks had shaken Leo's nerves, and he was prepared for any calamity—even to hear that Pratt had been arrested. Something of the sort he expected to hear now.
"Hullo, Raston!" he cried, with an affectation of brightness. "What brings you here?"
"I am on my way to London," said Raston, shaking hands in a friendly fashion, "and I am staying here for the night, as I want to have a long talk with you."
"Very glad," replied Leo, mechanically. Then after a pause he raised his head. "There is no bad news, I trust?" he asked anxiously.
"By no means. My news is good."
"Then it cannot concern me," said Leo, bitterly. "No good news ever comes my way now. What is it?"
"I'll tell you after dinner."
"No; tell me now! I can't wait. I am so anxious and worried that my mind cannot bear suspense."
"You brood too much on things," said Raston. "However, the matter is very simple. Miss Tempest wants you to return at once to Colester."
"What for? Has her father discovered anything bad about me?"
Raston laughed. "No. You are getting morbid on the subject—the result, I suppose, of your late experience of man's injustice. If you will sit down I will tell you what she asked me to say. It is a long story."
"An agreeable one, I hope," muttered Leo, dropping dejectedly into a chair. "I really cannot bear much more worry without going to chuck myself into the water."
"Haverleigh," said the curate, severely, "that is an ungrateful way to speak, after the mercy God hasshown you. Has he not brought you through much tribulation, and set your feet on a rock of safety!"
"Well, there are two answers to that, Raston. However, I'll try and behave myself while you tell me what Sybil said."
Raston sighed. Not knowing Leo's worry, he was beginning to think him wrong to behave as he did. Still, this was not the time to preach, and, unlike most clergymen, Raston knew where to stop. He sat down near Leo and related the whole story of Lord Kilspindie and his loss. Then he detailed Sybil's idea that Kilspindie might do something for the young man. "And if your future is arranged you can then be married."
"I shall never be married, Raston," said Leo, gloomily. "If you knew—But I must keep my own counsel. What takes you to London?" he asked suddenly. "You are such a home bird that there must be some strong reason."
"The very strongest," replied the curate, drawing a letter out of his pocket. "But first you must promise to hold your tongue about what I am going to tell you."
Leo nodded. "I have too many unpleasant secrets of my own not to keep those of others," he said. "Well, what's up?"
"Read this letter from Pratt."
"Pratt!" Haverleigh took the letter hurriedly. "Why, what is he writing to you about?" He cast his eyes over the letter. It was to the effect that Pratt would be glad to see Raston at a certain place inLondon to speak with him about the cup which had been lost. It asked the curate to keep the contents of the letter a secret, or at all events to tell only Leo Haverleigh. Also, it warned Raston that if he behaved treacherously, and brought down the police on Pratt, that there would be the devil to pay. These last words were underlined and shocked the curate. The time and place of the appointment were also underlined, and from the way in which the meeting was arranged Leo could see that his father had contrived to see Raston without running the risk of arrest.
"I wonder what he wants to see you about!" said Leo, handing back the letter and speaking uneasily. He fancied that Pratt might be going to reveal to Raston the secret of his own paternity.
"About the cup," said Raston, returning the letter to his pocket. "I suppose he is about to give it back to us again. Not that it will ever be used again for so sacred a purpose. I shall take it and return it to Lord Kilspindie. That is only right, as the cup was stolen from him."
"Ah, I forgot! You think that Pratt has the cup?" said Leo.
"He has. Do you not remember the letter he wrote to Marton saying he had stolen the cup and again had it in his possession?"
"I remember; but that was one of Pratt's fairy tales."
"How do you know?" asked Raston, astonished. "Has he written to you?"
"No. I have seen him."
"In London?"
"In Colester."
Raston pushed back his chair and stared at his friend. "When did you see him in Colester?" he asked, open-mouthed.
"A few days ago." Leo pondered for a moment while Raston stared at him. He wondered if it would not be as well to make a confidant of the curate, and ask his advice. The secret was rapidly becoming too much for him to bear alone. Raston was his friend, a good fellow, and a wise young man. Certainly it would be well to confide in him. Leo made up his mind. "I have to tell you something that will astonish you. I speak in confidence, Raston."
"Anything you tell me will be sacred," replied the curate, with dignity.
Leo nodded, quite satisfied with this assurance. Then he related all that had taken place in the castle on that night when he had discovered Mrs Gabriel and Pratt in company. Raston fairly gasped with surprise as the recital proceeded, and when Leo confessed that Pratt claimed him as a son he sprang from his seat.
"I don't believe a word of it!" he cried, bringing his fist down on the table. "The man is a vile liar. Whomsoever you may be, Leo, you are certainly not the son of this wretch. Can a bad tree bear good fruit? No."
"But he can give me proofs."
"He has not done so yet. Let me speak to him, Leo. I may be able to get more out of him than you.I am your friend, you know that! so if you will place the matter in my hands, I promise to find out the truth somehow."
"Well," said Leo, with some hesitation, "I rather thought of coming with you to London. Pratt expects me."
"He has not written to that effect," said Raston. "I tell you, Leo, the man is dangerous and unscrupulous. The fact that he claims you as his son will prevent you dealing freely with him. I can manage him better myself. You go back to Colester and Miss Tempest. It is but right that you should do what she wishes, as she has held by you in your time of trouble. Besides, I quite approve of her wish to introduce you to Lord Kilspindie. And if—oh!—" Raston stopped short.
"What's the matter, Raston?"
"Suppose you should be the long-lost son of Lord Kilspindie?"
"Ridiculous!" said Leo, shaking his head and flushing.
"It is no more ridiculous than that you should be the son of a thief—or, rather, believe yourself to be so. Why should you believe the bad and doubt the good? See here, Leo"—Raston was much excited—"the cup was lost along with the child. Pratt has the cup, why should you not be the child? The woman who stole both might have died and passed them on to Pratt. For his own purposes he says that he is your father."
"I can't believe it, Raston," said Leo, shaking his head.
"Well; disbelieve it if you choose. If the thing is so, what you think will not alter it. All I ask is that you should let me represent you at this interview. I have to see Pratt on my own account. Let me see him on yours."
"Very good, Raston. You can do what you like. I am greatly obliged to you for the trouble you are taking."
"Indeed, it is only right, Leo," protested the curate. "I begin to see that you have been wronged. I may not be right in my surmise about your being the son of Kilspindie. But I am sure that I am correct in saying you are not the son of that scoundrel. Now, go back to Colester, hold your tongue, and wait till I come back on Saturday."
"I'll do as you wish," said Leo, sadly; "but indeed I have no hope."
"I have," said the curate, emphatically, and the conversation ended.
The next day Raston departed by the steamer to London,viaWorthing, and Leo returned to his old quarters at the Colester Arms. His meeting with the curate had done him good, and although he did not adhere to Raston's theory about his noble paternity, yet he felt more cheerful and hopeful. He was particular as to his toilet, which, in his despair, he had rather neglected of late, and went to the Vicarage. Sybil was away with Pearl on the moor, the servant said. Leo would have followed, but Mr Tempest caught sightof him, and insisted that he should enter and be introduced to Lord Kilspindie. Leo willingly obeyed, as he was anxious to see his supposed father according to Raston. He could not help smiling when he was presented.
Kilspindie was taken by that smile. He saw before him a singularly splendid young man, with a graceful, slender figure and a handsome face, but best of all was the kindly look in the eyes. Kilspindie shook hands heartily with Leo, and sighed as he thought that his lost son might be just such another. Had he known of what Raston and the young man before him had talked about on the previous night, he might have been more particular in his inquiries, and might perchance have been brought to think as Raston did. However, he knew nothing, Leo said nothing, and the conversation resolved itself into the common-place. Tempest was kind to Leo, Kilspindie was friendly, and the three got on very well.
Meanwhile, Sybil and Pearl were walking across the moor. After a time they stopped at the turf altar erected by the mad girl, and she explained to her companion the reason she had made such a place.
"The Master is angry with poor Pearl now," she said sadly, "and He has taken the sacred cup from her. She is not good enough to keep it. But when the Master is pleased, and will save Pearl from the Pit"—she shuddered—"He will place the cup on this altar, and Pearl will bring it back to the chapel. Then she will be saved and happy."
"But, Pearl, you must not think of God in this way. He is your Father, and He loves you."
"Hedidlove Pearl, but He made her ill, and Mrs Jeal told Pearl that she was wicked and in danger of the Worm."
"Pearl! Pearl! Do not believe that. Mrs Jeal is wrong. God loves you!"
"Why, then, did He make Pearl ill if He loved her? And why did He take away the Holy Grail which Pearl watched over so carefully?"
"He did not take it away," said Sybil, hardly knowing what reply to make.
"Yes, He did," persisted the poor, mad creature. "Pearl was not good enough to keep it. But when she is good the cup will come down to earth again."
"Do you think it is in heaven now, Pearl?"
"I am sure it is. No roof here to stop the cup from floating up to the New Jerusalem. In the chapel it would have stayed, because the bad roof kept it down, but here it went up and up and up to the sky."
Sybil did not know what to make of this talk. She soothed the girl as much as she could and tried to bring her back to that old happy state of mind which Mrs Jeal had destroyed with her gloomy Calvinistic creed. But it was all of no use. Only the restoration of the cup would make Pearl believe that she was good again. However, Sybil induced her to talk of other things, of birds and flowers, and the poor creature was in a quieter state of mind when Sybil brought her back to the cottage.
"I go every morning to the altar," said Pearl, as shewent inside. "The cup will come back when the Master is sorry for Pearl."
At this moment Mrs Jeal pulled her into the house and scolded her for being away. When she saw Sybil she became more civil, but still behaved in a covertly insolent manner. Sybil grew angry.
"You have behaved very wickedly in putting these ideas into Pearl's head, Mrs Jeal," she said severely. "The poor creature is not responsible. She does not understand."
"She understands more than you give her credit for, miss," retorted Mrs Jeal, coolly, "and she is not fit to be left alone. But when I go away I shall put her in an asylum."
"Indeed, you will do nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Tempest, indignantly. "The poor thing would die. Liberty is all in all to her. When are you going away?"
"I go with Sir Frank Hale, miss. I am going to be the maid of his sister."
"I heard Sir Frank was leaving Colester," said Sybil, coldly, "and I think it is the best thing he can do. When does he go, Mrs Jeal?"
"In a week, miss. I have got a good situation, miss, and I do not want to be burdened with Pearl. She must go to an asylum."
"No, no! I shall take charge of her myself," said Sybil. "You leave her to me, Mrs Jeal, and I'll look after her."
"Well, I might, miss; I'll see." Then, after apause, Mrs Jeal asked, "About that gentleman at your place, miss—will he stay long?"
"Only till the end of the week. I suppose you mean Lord Kilspindie?"
Mrs Jeal's wicked eyes blazed. "Yes, I mean him," she said, and gave an unpleasant laugh. "Oh! so he goes at the end of the week! Well, miss, before I take up my situation with Miss Hale, I'll come and see you about Pearl. If you could take her I should be glad, but you'll find her a nuisance."
"I don't think so," said Sybil, coldly. "When will you call?"
"After the departure of Lord Kilspindie," said Mrs Jeal, with another wicked look, and went into the house. Sybil departed, wondering why the woman had asked about Lord Kilspindie, and why she seemed afraid to meet him. Had she been clever enough, she might have guessed the truth. As it was the matter passed out of her mind.
After this there were some very pleasant evenings at the Vicarage. Leo felt almost happy, in spite of his troubles. He could not as yet bring himself to tell Sybil that he could never marry her. Besides, he was hoping against hope that Raston would bring back some good news from London. Not, indeed, that he (Leo Haverleigh) was the lost son of Lord Kilspindie—that such good fortune should be his never entered Leo's head—but that Pratt was not his father. Leo felt that he would rather be proved to be illegitimate, as Mrs Gabriel had told the vicar he was, than have such a father as the criminal, Pratt. Yet, at timeshe felt sorry for the man. It was certain that he had in him some good qualities. But whenever Leo thought of him as his father, he became enraged against him. The thing was too horrible.
Lord Kilspindie took wonderfully to Leo, and this the vicar was pleased to see. Owing to Leo's want of an honest name, he could not bring himself to consent to the marriage, so he hoped that the Scotch lord might take a fancy to the young man and carry him off. Thus Sybil would be safe, and Leo would be provided for. Mr Tempest had evidently forgotten his own youth, or he would have remembered that loving hearts are not so easily severed. Leo and Sybil loved one another too well for aught to come between them.
On Saturday night Raston returned. It was so late that Leo had not expected him, so they did not meet until the next morning. Then it was on the way to church.
"Well," Leo asked eagerly, "and what does my—what does Pratt say?"
"I'll tell you after service," said Raston, hastily. "At present I can't think of these things."
"But one word, Raston," urged Leo. "Is Pratt my father?"
"No," replied the curate, emphatically, "he is not." And before Leo could ask another question he ran off. Filled with joy at the intelligence, but much bewildered, Leo went to church to offer up thanks.
Kilspindie was also in church, and with Sybil, in the vicar's pew. Mr Tempest allowed Raston to preach, as had been arranged, and took a very minorpart in the service. Indeed, he did little else but read the lessons. The church was filled, as everyone was anxious to see Lord Kilspindie. Mrs Bathurst was there, wondering if his lordship could be induced to marry Peggy. She quite forgot that she had promised her daughter's hand to the curate, and was already scheming to get at the old nobleman. That hewasold did not matter to Mrs Bathurst. She would have sold her daughter to anyone, provided the match was a good one. And, curious to say, she would have considered that she had done her duty as a mother. Her moral nature was decidedly warped.
The service was almost over, and the church-wardens were handing round the bags for the collection when a sweet voice was heard singing in the distance. Everyone recognised the voice—it was Pearl's—and the vicar, kneeling at the communion table, looked rather disturbed. He knew the eccentric ways of the girl, and he feared lest she might come in and distract the attention of the congregation. And his fears were fulfilled—Pearl, still singing, entered the church. The scandalised church-wardens would have kept her out, but that she bore something which made them open their eyes. The congregation also became aware of Pearl's burden, and a gasp of astonishment went round. Still singing some wild, vague melody, the mad girl walked slowly up the aisle, bearing the sacred cup.
Lord Kilspindie did not see her until she was almost at the chancel steps. He then gave a cry of astonishment, in spite of the building and the occasion. Surelyhe might have been pardoned, for the fairy cup upon which depended the fortunes of the Grants glittered before his eyes. There was a dead silence. Everyone was too astonished to speak or move. The vicar himself was staring from the communion table at this miracle. But Raston, who had come down to receive the collection, stood quietly waiting till the girl reached him. She came up singing, placed the great gold cup in his hand and fell on her knees.
"The Master has forgiven Pearl," she said in a voice which could be heard all over the church. "Sheis saved and the cup will be here to watch over for ever and ever. Amen. Amen." And she bowed her face in her hands.
Raston paused for a moment in hesitation and glanced at the vicar, then at Lord Kilspindie. Then he made up his mind, and walking up to the altar, placed the cup in its old position. And there it glittered, all gold and gems, with the sunlight striking down on it, until it became almost too glorious to look upon. Lord Kilspindie stared, with tears in his eyes. The cup would be his again and he would soon have his son. He never doubted but that the restoration of the one was the prelude to the discovery of the other.
Raston pronounced the Benediction and the organ broke forth into jubilant music. Shortly the congregation streamed out. Everyone was much excited. The old nobleman came out with Sybil, and they waited at the porch for the vicar. Leo also was with them.
Suddenly a woman broke through the crowd in the churchyard. It was Mrs Jeal, and she was seekingPearl. In her haste she never noticed Lord Kilspindie, until she almost ran into his arms. Suddenly he saw her face, started, and made one stride forward to clutch her by the arm.
"The cup and then the heir!" he said loudly, while all looked on amazed. "Janet Grant, where is my son, Lord Morven!"
Half-an-hour later and Lord Kilspindie was back in the Vicarage library with Janet Grant, or, as it may be more convenient to call her, Mrs Jeal. Mr Tempest was present, together with Leo and Mr Raston, and they had assembled to force the truth out of Mrs Jeal. This was no easy matter. All the evil in the woman was uppermost, and with her shawl wrapped round her tightly she sat there and defied them all.
"You may burn me, you may put me in prison," said Mrs Jeal, savagely, "but I won't open my mouth."
"I'll have you arrested unless you tell the truth," said Lord Kilspindie.
"Arrest me, then," snarled Mrs Jeal. "There's a policeman handy, my lord."
"Why are you behaving like this, woman?" asked the vicar, sternly.
"Why!" she retorted violently. "Because I was badly treated by my lord there. I served him faithfully for many years, yet, in place of giving me the position to which I was entitled, he set another woman—a woman I hated—over my head. But I paid him out," she said revengefully. "Oh! many asad hour you have had, my lord! And many more you will have. I know where your son is; but I won't tell. You have got back the cup, but the son, my Lord Morven," she sneered, "will remain in the humble position in which I have placed him."
"Something is gained," said Kilspindie. "You have revealed that my son is alive and well. I'll get the rest out of you."
"Never!" Mrs Jeal shut her mouth with a snap and shook herself. "I'll not speak another word!"
"What a wicked woman you are," said the vicar, sadly. Mrs Jeal's eyes flashed a wicked glance at him, but, true to her determination, she held her peace. It seemed impossible to do anything with so pronounced a vixen.
Hitherto Raston had been silent. Now he came forward. "I am able to deal with this matter," he said quietly, "and I have a way of making the woman speak."
Mrs Jeal shook her head and glared. The vicar and Kilspindie both looked at the curate. So did Leo. He was beginning to have a faint hope that the scene would end in the discovery that he was the rightful son of Lord Kilspindie. With an anxious face he sat in the corner and drank in eagerly every word which fell from Raston's lips. Mrs Jeal maintained her self-imposed silence.
"Mr Tempest," said Raston, "when I asked you if I might go to London, I did not tell you my errand. I tell it to you now. It was to see the man known as Pratt."
"What!" exclaimed the vicar. "You saw that man!"
"Two days ago. He wrote asking me to see him, hinting that he had something to tell about the cup."
"Which he stole," said Kilspindie.
"No, my lord. Pratt did not steal the cup. He took the blame upon himself, so as to clear the name of my friend Haverleigh."
Both the old men looked at Leo, who winced.
"Are you sure of that?" asked the vicar. "Pratt wrote to Marton, remember."
"To take the blame upon himself. Quite so. But he was not guilty for all that. His record was so black when Marton unmasked him that he thought a crime more or less would not matter."
"But why should he shield Haverleigh?" asked Mr Tempest.
Leo started forward. He saw that the time had come for him to speak out. "I can answer that," he said. "Pratt told me that I was his son."
Tempest uttered an exclamation. "You must be mistaken," he said; "Mrs Gabriel informed me that you were illegitimate."
"That would not have made any difference," said Leo, bitterly. "I might as well be the illegitimate son of Pratt as of anyone else. As a matter of fact, however, he told me that I was born in wedlock. His wife—my mother—died, and he placed me with Mrs Gabriel to bring up. She believed that I was a nameless orphan, and what she told you, Mr Tempest, was true so far as she knew. Her telling was none the lessspiteful, however. It was that which made you unwilling that I should marry Sybil."
"Yes," said the vicar, with a flush. "I did not like to think that a daughter of mine should marry a nameless man."
"And you visit the sins of the parents on the head of their innocent offspring," said Leo. "You have not treated me well, Mr Tempest. You thought me guilty of theft; scorned me because I was nameless! Is this the conduct of a minister of the Gospel?"
The grey head of the vicar drooped. "I admit that I have been wrong, Leo," he said in a faltering tone. "You have vindicated your character. I ask your pardon. And more," said he, when Leo grasped his hand, "even although there is a stain on your birth—"
"No," said Leo, "I don't want you to bind yourself to anything. Wait till this mystery is cleared up. At present, so far as I know, I am the son of a criminal. If that is true, I should refuse to marry Sybil."
Here Mrs Jeal burst out into a taunting laugh. Lord Kilspindie frowned upon her, and took Leo's disengaged hand. The vicar held the other. "You are a good man, Haverleigh," said his lordship, far from suspecting the truth. "I wish I had you for a son," and Mrs Jeal laughed again.
When quiet was restored, Raston went on with his story. "First," he said, "I must tell you how I recovered the cup. I went up and met Pratt. As I promised not to deliver him into the hands of the law, much as he deserved punishment, he spoke to me freely and I was with him three hours. I do not know ifI was right in letting such a dangerous criminal escape," said the curate, looking round, "but if I had given information to the police I should never have heard the truth about Leo, nor should I have secured the cup."
"Then I am not his son?" cried Leo, eagerly.
"No. Pratt gave me his word for that. Who you are you shall hear presently." Here Raston gave a glance at Mrs Jeal, who was moving her hands restlessly and seemed to be ill at ease. "Meantime I must go on with the story of the cup. It seemed that Pratt knew the pawnbroker Penny, and having learnt from Mrs Jeal's story that he had the cup, he went to get it back and to learn who had pawned it."
"And who did?" asked the vicar, sharply.
Raston gave the answer he least expected. "Mrs Jeal pawned it," said he.
The woman sprang to her feet and found her tongue. "It is a lie!" she shouted, furious with rage; then she made a rush for the door. Lord Kilspindie put his hand on her shoulder and forced her back into the chair.
"I am beginning to suspect the truth," he said sternly. "Sit still or I will have you punished."
She scowled and relapsed into a dogged silence. Raston went on to tell how the cup had been stolen. "It seems that when Pearl Darry was ill," he said, "this woman watched by her bed. The poor, mad creature was delirious and raved about the cup. Mrs Jeal persuaded her that she would be eternally punished, what for Heaven only knows—"
"She is a child of sin," groaned Mrs Jeal.
"She is as pure and good as an angel," cried the curate, frowning. "It is you who are the evil doer, Mrs Jeal! Well, Mr Tempest, the girl thought in her half-delirious state that she would test the goodness of God. She proposed to take the cup out of the chapel and place it on an altar of turf which she had prepared on the moor. It was her idea that if God wished to save her, He would take the cup up to Heaven, and then replace it at a later date on the altar. She, therefore, while Mrs Jeal was absent, dressed herself and ran out of the house. She went to the house of old Barker the sexton. His door was not locked—he told a lie about that to save himself—and she knew where the key of the church hung. It was in her hand in a moment, and she went to the church sometime about ten o'clock. She entered and took the cup. Then she replaced the key on its nail after relocking the door."
"One moment," interrupted Mr Tempest; "those scratches on the lepers' window—we thought, if you remember, that the robber had entered that way."
"I shrewdly suspect that old Barker made those scratches to save his own skin," said Raston. "You had better ask him." And it may here be mentioned that the vicar did, and learned that what Raston said was true. The old sexton, finding the cup gone, feared lest he might be accused of the robbery, and so conceived the idea of making marks as though someone had entered at a window which his fat body could not possibly have squeezed through. It was a clever ideaand misled all. But old Barker was punished by being sent to Portfront after he had confessed.
"It was when Pearl left Barker's cottage with the cup that Mrs Jeal met her," went on the curate. "She had missed her out of bed, and thinking that the mad girl had gone to the chapel, followed. She met her at the door of the cottage and saw that she had the cup. It was then that the idea came into her wicked head to steal the cup."
"It's a lie!" cried Mrs Jeal again.
"It is what you told Old Penny, anyhow, as he is prepared to swear in court," said the curate, coolly. "He would not give you what you asked for the cup until you told him where you got it. For a wonder, you told the truth. Yes, Mrs Jeal, you followed Pearl on to the moor and saw her set the cup on the turf altar. Waiting till she got back to your cottage, you took the cup and concealed it under your shawl. You took it home, and found the girl back again in bed, very ill from the effects of exposure. For a time you nursed her while the hue and cry was being made about the cup. Then you made the excuse that your father was ill and went to London. You have no father, Mrs Jeal, and Old Penny, in answer to a letter of yours, sent the wire. You told him you had something for him, and so he aided you with your plot. You took the cup to London, pawned it to Old Penny after telling him the story, and got five hundred pounds for it."
"I did not—I did not!" Mrs Jeal tried again to rise, and again had to remain; Lord Kilspindie kepthis heavy grip on her shoulder. In his rage at her duplicity he could have slain her, but he spared her for the moment that he might learn the truth. After many years of darkness dawn was breaking. Mrs Jeal saw that the end was in sight and began to sob.
"Then," continued Raston, "you banked the money and came down to tell that wicked lie about Leo Haverleigh. You know that he was never near the place—that he was innocent and that you were guilty. However, Pratt got all this out of Old Penny, and then gave him the five hundred pounds for the cup. He took it to his own place, and when I was with him he handed it to me."
"Come," said Kilspindie, "there is some good in the man."
"He has to make reparation to you, my lord," said Raston, solemnly, "for he is this woman's husband, and it was by his direction that your son was stolen. Yes," here the curate pointed to Leo, "and there is your son."
Leo rose slowly, as pale as a corpse. He had expected this, yet when it came the thing was too much for him. He could only look at his newly-found father in silence. Lord Kilspindie gasped and he too turned pale. Then he made one stride forward, and grasping Leo's hands stared into his face. "Yes," he muttered, "I believe. You have her—her—" He turned on Mrs Jeal. "Woman, is this true?" he demanded. But Mrs Jeal, with a cruel smile on her fat, puffy face, still sat silent. "I could strangle you,"muttered Lord Kilspindie, exasperated by her obstinacy.
"I can make her speak," said Raston, taking an envelope out of his pocket, "and here is the means of doing so."
Still holding Leo's hand, Lord Kilspindie looked at the curate. Mrs Jeal remained quiet, a contemptuous smile on her lips and her eyes on the floor. Tempest, much interested in this strange scene, sat waiting for the end. It would seem that the result was in Raston's hands.
"After I had received the cup and had heard its story," the curate continued, "I began to question Pratt about Leo. At Portfront Leo had already told me of the claim Pratt had made to being his father. I did not believe it, for I know Haverleigh's upright nature and could not think that he was the child of such a bad man. At first Pratt insisted that he was the father. I then appealed to his better instincts and told him how Leo had made up his mind to give up Miss Tempest rather than make her the wife of a man with such antecedents as his. I think Pratt really loves you, Leo, for after a time he yielded to my entreaties and told the truth."
"I am sure he likes me," said Haverleigh, quietly; "he was always very kind to me. Bad as he is, I at least have no reason to complain of his treatment."
"But what did he say?" asked Lord Kilspindie, anxiously.
"I shall leave Mrs Jeal to tell. She can repeat to you the story Pratt told me."
"I'll not say a word," muttered the woman, resolutely.
"I can compel you!" replied Raston, sternly.
"Try!" was Mrs Jeal's disdainful retort.
The curate turned towards Kilspindie. "Pratt's story had a great deal to do with his wife, my lord, and on several points he referred me to her. I told him that she would never speak, for I well know how obstinate she is. Pratt then agreed to help me, 'for Leo's sake,' he said. He wrote out something and placed what he had written in this envelope. I did not see what it was and I do not know now. The envelope is sealed as you see. Now," added the curate, looking at Mrs Jeal, who was beginning to show signs of uneasiness, "if you tell the story of how you stole the child and prove that Mr Haverleigh is really Lord Morven, I will hand this letter to you with the seal unbroken. If you refuse, I will open the envelope now and act on the contents. Pratt assured me that what is contained herein would cost you much more than your liberty!"
The three men looked at the woman. Her face was livid, and the perspiration beaded her forehead. Twice she tried to speak, but her mouth opened and shut without a sound.
"Will you speak?" asked Raston, quietly.
"Give it to me," she muttered in a husky tone, and stretching out her hand for the envelope Raston withdrew it beyond her reach.
"Not until you have told us the story," he said.
"If I do, will you give me the letter?"
"Yes—with the seal unbroken. I do not know what iniquity you have been guilty of; but we are all willing not to know so long as you inform us of your minor fault."
"I have your promise to give me the letter as it is?" asked Mrs Jeal.
"Yes," said Raston, and the other three men echoed his response. Mrs Jeal nodded, well satisfied, and wiped her pale face with the end of her shawl. She then took a key out of her pocket.
"Will one of you gentlemen go to my cottage," she said, "and open the third drawer in the chest of drawers in my bedroom standing opposite to the door? There you will find a parcel wrapped up in brown paper. I want it brought here immediately."
"Shall I go?" said Leo, rising.
"No," said Lord Kilspindie. "I have you and I mean to keep you. Mr Tempest, no doubt, has a servant whom he can trust."
Tempest nodded and touched the bell. The old butler, who had been with the vicar for over twenty years, appeared. "Take this key," said his master, handing it to him. "Mrs Jeal will give you directions how to use it. Lose no time in coming back."
Mrs Jeal repeated her instructions and the servant departed on his errand. Then the woman rose to her feet and began to talk with an assumption of courage which would have been ludicrous had it not been so pitiful. Still, she fought well, and was game to the last.
"You have got the better of me," she said, "or,rather, that brute of a Tony Angel has peached. If he had held his tongue I could have defied the lot of you. As it is—" She shrugged her fat shoulders and paused. "Ask me what questions you like," she said, "I am in your power. Imustreply."
"Is this my son?" asked Kilspindie, his hand on Leo's shoulder.
"Yes. That is Lord Morven!"
Leo uttered a cry and looked at his father with moist eyes. The revulsion of feeling was too much for Kilspindie, and he sank down into a chair. Leo held his hand, and there was silence for a few moments. "I am thankful to God that he has spared me to see my son again!" said Kilspindie, solemnly, and the vicar added a solemn "Amen."
"And thank God that I have a father and an unsullied name!" said Leo, almost too moved to speak. Nor was this emotion unmanly on the part of father and son. The least sentimental person must grant this much.
Kilspindie remained seated in his chair and holding the hand of his newly-recovered son. Both men fixed their eyes on Mrs Jeal, who in a cold and unemotional way continued her confession.
"I was brought up on your estate, my lord," she said, "and there I met with Pratt—or, rather, with Tony Angel. He came on a visit to the village to get away from the police. He was a handsome and fascinating man and I fell in love with him. Whether he loved me or not I cannot say. At all events, he pretended to. I left your service and married him.We went to London, and then I discovered that my husband was a thief. At first I was horrified. In those days, my lord, I was not the hardened sinner you see me now. But after a time Pratt—as I may call him—made me as bad as himself. He taught me to love fine things and comfort, and as he always made plenty of money by stealing I had a gay life. Oh! we had fine times I can tell you! He—"
"Go on with your story, Mrs Jeal," said the vicar, sternly.
She tossed her head, but obeyed. "After a time things got bad. Pratt was so well known to the police that he was not so successful as he had been. I used to tell him about Kilspindie Castle and the cup. Pratt, who loved beautiful things, wanted to get the cup. He proposed that I should go back and steal it. I was already known in the castle, so there would be a better opportunity for me to get it than himself. As I wanted money I agreed, and I came back to the castle."
"Did you re-enter my service in order to steal the cup?" asked Lord Kilspindie.
"Yes," replied Mrs Jeal, defiantly, "you had plenty without it. I entered as an under-nursemaid, and as I was comfortable I thought I would stay for a while. Pratt came up and urged me to steal the cup at once. I refused, as I did not wish to leave my good situation. Then an idea came into his head that if I could obtain the child of a nobleman he could hold it as a hostage."
"What do you mean?" asked Raston.
"The meaning is not difficult," said Mrs Jeal, coolly. "Pratt was always in danger of being taken by the police, and his record was so bad that he would have been shown no mercy. He thought if he had Lord Kilspindie's son, that when he got into trouble he could promise to restore the child on condition that he was set free."
"A clever idea," muttered the vicar.
"And a very wild one," said his lordship. "What influence could I bring to bear towards helping a criminal?"
"What, indeed?" sneered Mrs Jeal. "I assured Pratt that your lordship had no power. But the idea of getting the child as a hostage fascinated him, and he commanded me to steal the boy. For a time I refused. Then the head nurse died and another woman was set over my head. My lady treated me badly—she insulted me; she showed that she mistrusted me. I was angry and I determined to be revenged. I was revenged by obeying Pratt. I took the cup and the child and went away. How I—"
"I know how you stole both the child and the cup," said Lord Kilspindie.
"Very good, my lord. Well, I went to London with Pratt. He pawned the cup, and on the money we lived for a time. Then he insisted that, as he might some day have to restore the child—we called him Leo," said Mrs Jeal, with a glance at the young man, "it was necessary that he should be brought up as a gentleman. He knew Mrs Gabriel, whom he had met abroad. He had some power over her—"
"And whatisthe power?" asked Leo.
Mrs Jeal shook her head. "That has nothing to do with you or with the restoration of your rights, Lord Morven," she said. "I keep that secret to myself. Pratt had a power over her and used it. He brought the child to her and said he was a natural child. He insisted that she should bring him up as the son of her brother who had just died abroad. How Pratt knew this I do not know; but then he knew everything. Well, it was done, and Leo was established at the castle. Mrs Gabriel brought him up."
"Yes," said Leo, bitterly, "she brought me up." And he looked back on the long life of petty worry and contemptible tyranny that had been his. "I know all this. But yourself, Mrs Jeal?"
"I remained with Pratt. I was only too glad to get rid of you. I hated you for your mother's sake—"
"Stop that!" cried Lord Kilspindie, and Mrs Jeal dropped a mocking curtsey.
"At your lordship's service! However, I found out that Pratt was treating me badly. He went about with other women. He even struck me. I made up my mind to leave him, and I did. I went from one place to another, and finally I came to settle in Colester."
"Why did you come here?" asked the vicar.
"Oh, your reverence can understand that I wanted to keep an eye on the young lord!" said Mrs Jeal, obsequiously. "He was my property as well as Pratt's, and when the day came to give him up to his father I wanted my share of the spoil."
"You shall have nothing," said Lord Kilspindie, sternly. "You ought to be glad that I do not hand you over to the police!"
She scowled and would have become vituperative, but Raston moved the hand which held the envelope significantly. At once a frightened look came over her face, and she sat down. "I stayed here," she continued feebly, all the strength having gone out of her, "and saved Pearl Darry from her father. When Pratt came I was afraid; I was always afraid of Pratt. No one knows but myself what a devil he is. He told me to hold my tongue, and I was too frightened of him to disobey. Now I'll go away from here with the Hales, since Miss Sybil has promised to look after Pearl. I want to put the seas between myself and that man. He terrifies me, and I am not a woman easily terrified."
"Why did you tell that lie about my having pawned the cup?" asked Leo.
Mrs Jeal shook her head. "I can say no more," she said. Leo would have insisted, but at that moment the servant entered with the parcel of which the woman had spoken. When he went out Mrs Jeal opened this, and spread out the contents on the table.
"Here are the evidences your lordship wished for," she said, glancing at Lord Kilspindie. "This is the dress Lord Morven wore when I took him away, his name is marked—the underclothing is also marked. The coral necklace which your lordship may perhaps recognise as an heirloom. And your lordship may perhaps remember some mark by which Lord Morvencan be recognised. Thereisa mark, if your lordship remembers."