CHAPTER XXVIII
THE WHISPERS AGAIN
Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wishto see her again? At one moment she believed in her lover's strong,passionate devotion to her, for had she not seen it displayed in ahundred different ways? But the next she recollected how that manFlockart had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in the past,how he had often lied so circumstantially that she had believed hiswords to be the truth. Once, indeed, he had openly declared to her thatone of his maxims was never to tell the truth unless obliged. Afterdinner, a simple meal served in the poky little dining-room, she made anexcuse to go to her room, and there sat for a long time, deeplyreflecting. Should she write to Walter? Would it be judicious to explainFlockart's visit, and how he had urged their reconciliation? If shewrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was thegreat problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before herundecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was theemissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openlyof her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had onlylaughed at her. Alas! she knew his true character, unscrupulous andpitiless. But she placed him aside.
Recollection of Walter--the man who had held her so often in his armsand pressed his hot lips to hers, the man who was her father's firmfriend and whose uprightness and honesty of purpose she had everadmired--crowded upon her. Should she write to him? Rigid and staring,she sat in her chair, her little white hands clenched, as she tried tosummon courage. It had been she who had written declaring that theirsecret engagement must be broken, she who had condemned herself.Therefore, had she not a right to satisfy that longing she had hadthrough months, the longing to write to him once again. The thoughtdecided her; and, going to the table whereon the lamp was burning, shesat down, and after some reflection, penned a letter as follows:--
"MY SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, MY OWN, MY SOUL--MINE--ONLY MINE,--I amwondering how and where you are! True, I wrote you a cruel letter; butit was imperative, and under the force of circumstance. I am full ofregrets, and I only wish with all my heart that I might kiss you onceagain, and press you in my arms as I used to do.
"But how are you? I have had you before my eyes to-night, and I feelquite sure that at this very moment you are thinking of me. You mustknow that I love you dearly. You gave me your heart, and it shall notbelong to any other. I have tried to be brave and courageous; but, alas!I have failed. I love you, my darling, and I must see you soon--verysoon.
"Mr. Flockart came to see me to-day and says that you expressed to him adesire to meet me again. Gratify that desire when you will, and you willfind your Gabrielle just the same--longing ever to see you, living withonly the memories of your dear face.
"Can you doubt of my great, great love for you? You never wrote in replyto my letter, though I have waited for months. I know my letter was acruel one, and to you quite unwarranted; but I had a reason for writingit, and the reason was because I felt that I ought not to deceive youany longer.
"You see, darling, I am frank and open. Yes, I have deceived you. I amterribly ashamed and downhearted. I have tried to conceal my grief, evenfrom you; but it is impossible. I love you as much as I ever loved you,and I swear to you that I have never once wavered.
"Grim circumstance forced me to write to you as I did. Forgive me, I begof you. If it is true what Mr. Flockart says, then send me a telegram,and come here to see me. If it be false, then I shall know by yoursilence.
"I love you, my own, my well-beloved! _Au revoir_, my dearest heart. Ilook at your photograph which to-night smiles at me. Yes, you love me!
"With many fond and sweet kisses like those I gave you in thewell-remembered days of our happiness.
"My love--My king!"
She read the letter carefully through, placed it in an envelope, and,marking it private, addressed it to Walter's chambers in the Temple,whence she knew it must be forwarded if he were away. Then, putting onher tam o' shanter, she went out to the village grocer's, where sheposted it, so that it left by the early morning mail. When would hiswelcome telegram arrive? She calculated that he would get the letter bymid-day, and by one o'clock she could receive his reply--his reassuranceof love.
So she went to her bed, with its white dimity hangings, more calm andcomposed than for months before. For a long time she lay awake, thinkingof him, listening hour by hour to the chiming bells of the old Normanchurch. They marked the passing of the night. Then she dropped off tosleep, to be awakened by the sun streaming into the room.
That same morning, away up in the Highlands at Glencardine, Sir Henryhad groped his way across the library to his accustomed chair, and Hillhad placed before him one of the shallow drawers of the cabinet ofseal-impressions.
There were fully half a dozen which had been sent to him by the curatorof the museum at Norwich, sulphur-casts of seals recently acquired bythat institution.
The blind man had put aside that morning to examine them, and settledhimself to his task with the keen and pleasurable anticipation of theexpert.
They were very fine specimens. The blind man, sitting alone, selectedone, and, fingering it very carefully for a long time, at last made outits design and the inscription upon it.
"The seal of Abbot Simon de Luton, of the early thirteenth century," hesaid slowly to himself. "The wolf guards the head of St. Edmund as itdoes in the seal of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, while theVirgin with the Child is over the canopy. And the verse is indeedcurious for its quaintness:"
+ VIRGO . DEUM . FERT . DUX . CAPUD . AUFERT . QUOD . LUPUS . HIC . FERT +
Then he again retraced the letters with his sensitive fingers toreassure himself that he had made no mistake.
The next he drew towards him proved to be the seal of the Vice-Warden ofthe Grey Friars of Cambridge, a pointed one used about the year 1244,which to himself he declared, in heraldic language, to bear the deviceof "a cross raguly debruised by a spear, and a crown of thorns in benddexter, and a sponge on a staff in bend sinister, between two threefold_flagella_ in base"--surely a formidable array of the instruments usedin the Passion.
Deeply interested, and speaking to himself aloud, as was his habit whenalone, he examined them one after the other. Among the collection werethe seals of Berengar de Brolis, Plebanus of Pacina (in Syracuse), andthose of the Commune of Beauvais (1228); Mathilde (or Mahaut), daughterof Henri Duke of Brabant (1265); the town of Oudenbourg in WestFlanders, and of the Vicar-Provincial of the Carmelite Order at Palermo(1350); Jacobus de Gnapet, Bishop of Rennes (1480); and of Bondi Marquisof Sasolini of Bologna (1323).
He had almost concluded when Goslin, the grey-bearded Frenchman, havingbreakfasted alone in the dining-room, entered. "Ah, _mon cher_ SirHenry!" he exclaimed, "at work so early! The study of seals must be veryfascinating to you, though I confess that, for myself, I could never seein them very much to interest one."
"No. To the ordinary person, my dear Goslin, it appears no doubt, a mostdryasdust study, but to a man afflicted like myself it is the only studythat he can pursue, for with his finger tips he can learn the devicesand decipher the inscriptions," the blind Baronet declared. "Take, forinstance, only this little collection of a dozen or so impressions whichthey have so kindly sent to me from Norwich. Each one of them tells mesomething. Its device, its general character, its heraldry, itsinscription, are all highly instructive. For the collector there areopportunities for the study of the historical allusions, theemblematology and imagery, the hagiology, the biographical andtopographical episodes, and the other peculiarities and idiosyncrasiesin all the seals he possesses."
Goslin, like most other people, had been many times bored by the oldman's technical discourses upon his hobby. But he never showed it. He,just the same as other people, made pretence of being interested. "Yes,"he remarked, "they must be most instructive to the student. I recollectseeing a great quantity in the Bargello at Florence."
"Ah, a very fine collection--part of the Medici collecti
on, and containssome of the finest Italian and Spanish specimens," remarked the blindconnoisseur. "Birch of the British Museum is quite right in declaringthat the seal, portable and abounding in detail, not difficult ofacquisition nor hard to read if we set about deciphering the story ithas to tell, takes us back as we look upon it to the very time of itsmaking, and sets us, as it were, face to face with the actual owners ofthe relic."
The Frenchman sighed. He saw he was in for a long dissertation; and,moving uneasily towards the window, changed the topic of conversation bysaying, "I had a long letter from Paris this morning. Krail is backagain, it appears."
"Ah, that man!" cried the other impatiently. "When will hisextraordinary energies be suppressed? They are watching him carefully, Isuppose."
"Of course," replied the Frenchman. "He left Paris about a month ago,but unfortunately the men watching him did not follow. He took train forBerlin, and has been absent until now."
"We ought to know where he's been, Goslin," declared the elder man."What fool was it who, keeping him under surveillance, allowed him toslip from Paris?"
"The Russian Tchernine."
"I thought him a clever fellow, but it seems that he's a bungler afterall."
"But while we keep Krail at arm's length, as we are doing, what have weto fear?" asked Goslin.
"Yes, but how long can we keep him at arm's length?" queried Sir Henry."You know the kind of man--one of the most extraordinarily inventive inEurope. No secret is safe from him. Do you know, Goslin," he added, in achanged voice, "I live nowadays somehow in constant apprehension."
"You've never possessed the same self-confidence since you foundMademoiselle Gabrielle with the safe open," he remarked.
"No. Murie, or some other man she knows, must have induced her to dothat, and take copies of those documents. Fortunately, I suspected anattempt, and baited the trap accordingly."
"What caused you to suspect?"
"Because more than once both Murie and the girl seemed to be seized byan unusual desire to pry into my business."
"You don't think that our friend Flockart had anything to do with theaffair?" the Frenchman suggested.
"No, no. Not in the least. I know Flockart too well," declared the oldman. "Once I looked upon him as my enemy, but I have now come to theconclusion that he is a friend--a very good friend."
The Frenchman pulled a rather wry face, and remained silent.
"I know," Sir Henry went on, "I know quite well that his constantassociation with my wife has caused a good deal of gossip; but I havedismissed it all with the contempt that such attempted scandal deserves.It has been put about by a pack of women who are jealous of my wife'sgood looks and her _chic_ in dress."
"Are not Flockart and mademoiselle also good friends?" inquired Goslin.
"No. I happen to know that they are not, and that very fact in itselfshows me that Gabrielle, in trying to get at the secret of my business,was not aided by Flockart, for it was he who exposed her."
"Yes," remarked the Frenchman, "so you've told me before. Have you heardfrom mademoiselle lately?"
"Only twice since she has left here," was the old man's bitter reply,"and that was twice too frequently. I've done with her, Goslin--donewith her entirely. Never in all my life did I receive such a crushingblow as when I found that she, in whom I reposed the utmost confidence,had played her own father false, and might have ruined him!"
"Yes," remarked the other sympathetically, "it was a great blow to you,I know. But will you not forgive mademoiselle?"
"Forgive her!" he cried fiercely, "forgive her! Never!"
The grey-bearded Frenchman, who had always been a great favourite withGabrielle, sighed slightly, and gave his shoulders a shrug of regret.
"Why do you ask that?" inquired Sir Henry, "when she herself admittedthat she had been at the safe?"
"Because----" and the other hesitated. "Well, for several reasons. Thestory of your quarrel with mademoiselle has leaked out."
"The Whispers--eh, Goslin?" laughed the old man in defiance. "Let thepeople believe what they will. My daughter shall never return toGlencardine--never!"
As he had been speaking the door had opened, and James Flockart stoodupon the threshold. He had overheard the blind man's words, and as hecame forward he smiled, more in satisfaction than in greeting.