A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3)

  Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by theWeb Archive and Google Books.

  Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=YzMVAAAAQAAJ (Oxford University) 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].

  A SECRET INHERITANCE

  A SECRET INHERITANCE

  BY

  B. L. FARJEON,

  AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "IN A SILVER SEA," "THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS," ETC.

  _IN THREE VOLUMES_ VOL. III

  LONDON WARD AND DOWNEY 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 1887

  Richard Clay and Sons, LONDON AND BUNGAY.

  A SECRET INHERITANCE.

  * * * * * *

  BOOK THE SECOND (_Continued_).

  IN WHICH THE SECRET OF THE INHERITANCE TRANSMITTED TO GABRIEL CAREW ISREVEALED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABRAHAM SANDIVAL, ESQ., ENGLAND,TO HIS FRIEND, MAXIMILIAN GALLENGA, ESQ., CONTRA COSTA CO.,CALIFORNIA.

  VOL. III.

  VII.

  The investigations in the course of which Emilius related his versionof what had passed between him and his ill-fated brother--I use thephrase to give expression to my meaning, but indeed it is hard to sayto which of the brothers, the living or the dead, it can be appliedwith the greater force--took place in private, only the accused andthe magistrate, with a secretary to write down what was said, beingpresent. The magistrate in his conversations with Doctor Louis andGabriel Carew, did not hesitate to declare his belief in theprisoner's guilt. He declined altogether to entertain the sentimentalviews which Doctor Louis advanced in Emilius's favour--such as thelove which it was well known had existed between the brothers sincetheir birth, the character for gentleness which Emilius had earned,the numberless acts of kindness which could be set to his credit, andthe general esteem which was accorded to him by those among whom hehad chiefly lived.

  "My experience is," he said, "that all pervious records of a man'slife and character are not only valueless but misleading when thepassions of love and jealousy enter his soul. They dominate himutterly; they are sufficiently baleful to transform him from an angelto a demon. He sees things through false light, and justifies himselffor the commission of any monstrous act. Reason becomes warped, thejudgment is distorted, the sense of right-doing vanishes; he is thevictim of delusions."

  Doctor Louis caught at the word. "The victim!"

  "Will that excuse crime?" asked the magistrate severely.

  Doctor Louis did not reply.

  "No," said the magistrate, "it aggravates it. Admit such a defence,and let it serve as a palliation of guilt, and the whole moral fabricis destroyed. What weighs heavily against the prisoner is his evidentdisinclination to reveal all he knows in connection with the hours hepassed in the forest on the night of his brother's death. He isconcealing something, and he seeks refuge in equivocation. When Iaccused him of this his confusion increased. I asked him whether hismeeting with his brother was accidental or premeditated, and he wasunable or unwilling to give me a satisfactory reply. He made a remarkto which he evidently wished me to attach importance. 'There arematters between me and my brother,' he said, 'which it would bedifficult, perhaps impossible, for an unsympathetic person tounderstand.' 'I am such a person,' I said. 'Undoubtedly,' was hisreply; 'you are seeking to convict me out of my own mouth of a crime Idid not commit.' 'I am seeking to elicit the truth,' I said. 'Havethese mysterious matters between you and your brother of which youspeak any bearing upon his death?' Observe, that out of regard for theprisoner's feelings I used the word death instead of murder; but hecorrected me. 'They have,' he said, 'a distinct bearing upon hismurder.' 'And you cannot explain them to me?' I asked. 'I cannot,' hereplied. 'You expect me, however, to place credence in what you say?'I asked. 'I do not,' he said; 'it is so strange even to me that, ifyou were in possession of the particulars, I should scarcely bejustified in expecting you to believe me.' After that there was, ofcourse, but little more to be said on the point. If a criminal choosesto intrench himself behind that which he is pleased to call a mystery,but which is simply an absurd invention for the purpose of puttingjustice off the track, he must take the consequences. Before ourinterview was ended it occurred to me to ask him whether he intendedto persist in a concealment of his so-called mystery. He considered alittle, and said that he would speak of it to one person, and to oneperson only. Upon that I inquired the name of the person, saying thatI would seek him and send him to the prisoner. Emilius refused tomention the name of the person. Another mystery. As you may imagine,this did not dispose me more favourably towards him, and I left him tohis meditations."

  "Having," said Doctor Louis, "a thorough belief in his guilt."

  "There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind," said the magistrate.

  "You once entertained an esteem for him."

  "True; but it only serves to prove how little we really know of eachother. This mask that we wear, and which even in private we seldomremove, hides so much!"

  "So much that is evil?"

  "That is my meaning."

  "You are growing pessimistic," said Doctor Louis sadly.

  "Late events and a larger experience are driving me in thatdirection," replied the magistrate.

  "Have you any objection to granting me a private interview withEmilius?"

  "None whatever. You have but to name your own time."

  "May Mr. Carew see him also?"

  "If he wishes."

  In this conversation Gabriel Carew had borne no share. This was due toan absolute fairness on Carew's part. Prejudiced as he was againstEmilius, he was aware that he could say nothing in favour of theaccused, and he did not wish to pain Doctor Louis by expressing whathe felt. When the magistrate left them, Doctor Louis said, "The oneperson to whom Emilius is willing to confide is either you or myself."

  To this view Gabriel Carew did not subscribe. In his remarks to DoctorLouis he touched lightly but firmly upon the instinctive aversionwhich, from the first, he and the brothers had felt towards eachother, and said that this aversion, on the part of Emilius, must havebeen strengthened rather than modified by the opinions he had felt ithis duty to express with respect to Emilius's dealings with Patricia.

  "But he behaved honourably to her," contended Doctor Louis, andendeavoured to win Carew to a more favourable judgment of the unhappyman. He was not successful.

  "There are sentiments," said Carew, "which it would be folly tostruggle against. Emilius was always my enemy, and is still more sonow. If he wishes to see me I will go to him. Not otherwise."

  Shortly afterwards Doctor Louis had an interview with Emilius.

  "I thought you might come to me," said the prisoner, but he refusedthe hand which Doctor Louis held out to him. "Not till I am free," hesaid, "and pronounced innocent of this horrible charge."

  "You will be--soon," said Doctor Louis with inward sinking, theevidence was so black against Emilius.

  "I scarcely dare to hope it," said Emilius gloomily. "A fatality dogsour family. It destroyed my father and his brother; it has destroyedEric; it will destroy me."

  "Under any circumstances," said Doctor Louis, not pursuing the theme,"I should have endeavoured to see you, but there is a special reasonfor my present visit. The magistrate by whom you have be
en examinedinformed me that there is a certain matter in connection with thisdeplorable event which you will disclose to one person only. Am Ihe--and should you make the disclosure, is it likely to serve you?"

  "I was not quite exact," said Emilius, "when I made that statement tothe magistrate, in answer to a question he put to me. There were,indeed, two persons in my mind--but you are the first, by right."

  "And the other--is it Gabriel Carew?"

  "Yes, it is he--though I doubt whether he would come of his own freewill. He bears me no friendship."

  "He is an honourable, upright man," said Doctor Louis. "Though youhave not been drawn to each other, as I hoped would be the case, I amsure he would be willing to serve you if it were in his power."

  "Does he believe me to be innocent?" Doctor Louis was silent. "Thenwhy should he be willing to serve me? You are mistaken. But it is notof this I wish to speak. What I have to disclose will be received withsympathy by you, who knew and loved my poor father, and who areacquainted with all the particulars of his strange story. Related toany other than yourself it would be regarded as the ravings of amaniac, or as a wild and impotent invention to help me to freedom. Forthis reason I held my tongue in the presence of the magistrate."

  "Before hearing it," said Doctor Louis, "I ought to say that, though Iam groping in the dark, I can understand dimly why you would notconfide in an officer of the law. But I cannot understand why youshould be willing to confide in Gabriel Carew. I speak in the light ofyour belief that Carew bears you no friendship."

  "I cannot explain myself to you," said Emilius, "and should mostlikely fail in the attempt with Mr. Carew. But there are promptingswhich a man sometimes feels it a duty to obey, and this is one ofthem. I perceive that you do not receive these apparentinconsistencies with favour. It is natural. But reflect. Had you not,through your close intimacy and almost brotherly friendship with myfather, been made familiar with his story--had it been related to youas a stranger, would you not have received it with incredulity, wouldyou not have refused to believe it?" Doctor Louis nodded. "A wildeffort of imagination could alone have invented it--had it nothappened. But it was true, in the teeth of improbabilities andinconsistencies. For his sake you will bear with me, for his sake youwill be indulgent and merciful to his unhappy son."

  Doctor Louis was inexpressibly moved. He again offered Emilius hishand, who again refused it.

  "Circumstantial evidence," he said, "is so strong against me that Ifear I have played out my part in the active world. Should my fears beconfirmed, I shall ask you to render me an inestimable service.Meanwhile, there is that which should not be concealed from you, myfather's dearest friend, and mine. It relates chiefly to the murder ofmy brother. That part of my story which affects my wife, Patricia, maybe briefly passed over. I have known her for nearly five years, andgrew insensibly to love her. It is only lately that my poor Eric madeher acquaintanceship, and surrendered his heart to her. I should havebeen frank with him; I should have spoken of my love for Patriciainstead of concealing it. It may be that it would not have averted hisdoom and mine, for when men are pursued by an inexorable fate, thereare a thousand roads open for its execution. Why did I not go franklyto Patricia's father, and ask him for his daughter's hand? It is aquestion that may well be asked, but there is some difficulty inanswering it. Chiefly, I think, it was Patricia who guided me here,and who desired to keep our love locked in our breasts. She feared herfather; he is a man of stern and fixed ideas, and, once resolved, isdifficult to move. His daughter, he declared, should marry in her ownstation in life; never would he consent to her marrying a gentleman.Patricia chose to consider me one, and had a genuine and honest dreadthat her father would tear her from me if he discovered our love. Idid not argue with her; I simply agreed to all she said. We weremarried in secret, at her wish; and when concealment was no longerpossible, we fled. This flight was not undertaken in haste; it wasdiscussed and deliberately planned. We hoped for her father's pardonwhen he discovered that his intervention would be useless. I was foran earlier revealment to Martin Hartog of his daughter's union withme, but I yielded to Patricia's pleadings. She had a deep,unconquerable fear of her father's curse. 'It would kill me,' shesaid; and I believed it would.

  "This is the end to which love has led us. I will speak now of mybrother Eric."