CHAPTER V.
A LITTLE RED BOX.
I don't think Lord Spunyarn could have really found it cold in Mrs.Haggard's boudoir in the second week of September; perhaps it was forthe sake of collecting his ideas that he busied himself with the fireand added another toy log to the flickering embers upon the daintyhearth; then he sat down, and staring straight at the little red moroccobox upon the table, he began.
"I think it may perhaps spare your feelings a little, dear Mrs. Haggard,if I tell you that from what my poor friend said, and from the contentsof this box, I have become aware of the secret of Lucius's birth." Henever took his eyes off the box for one instant, or he would have seenas he said the words that the widow's face grew white as the lawn cuffsupon her wrists.
She interrupted him suddenly.
"It is not I who have betrayed the secret. I have guarded it faithfullyfor twenty years, God forgive me," she added with a sigh. "But whatcould I do? I was bound to shield my cousin, even if I had not sworn toher to do so; for she would not take my word for it, Lord Spunyarn. Nohint of it has ever passed my lips. Conceive my astonishment when mydying husband told me that he was aware of the fact, for I suppose itwas that he meant, when he said to me, with almost his last breath, thathe had 'known it all along.'"
"Yes," said her husband's old friend, still staring at the little redbox, "and then?"
"And then he died, Lord Spunyarn," she said with a sigh; "but he hadasked me to forgive him, and to take care of Lucius."
"And did you forgive him, dear madam?"
"Of course I forgave him."
"And you forgive him still?"
"Certainly, though what it was he wished me to forgive I cannot tell."
But Lord Spunyarn never looked at her; he only stared at the box uponthe table. "I'm glad you forgave him," he said, "fully and freely."
"Fully and freely," she echoed.
"Mrs. Haggard, you had much to forgive. When you promised to take careof Lucius, had you any idea whose son he was?"
"No, Lord Spunyarn, nor have I now; poor Lucy would never tell me that,and I never pressed her, for it did not concern me."
"It concerned you very nearly, dear madam."
Their eyes met, and those of the widow were filled with mingledastonishment and horror.
"No, Lord Spunyarn; do not tell me that Lucius's father was----" and hereyes flashed with indignant rage.
"It is best to get it over--_he was your husband_!"
There was a dead silence of some seconds.
"Go on, Lord Spunyarn," said the widow in a hollow voice; "then I amguiltless at least of deceiving him for years. It is horrible!" But sheshed no tear.
"Your husband, dear lady, when he was dying, gave it in charge to me tolet you see the contents of this box, which, he too truly said, wouldexplain all. I, too, at times, had my suspicions; for remember this, Itoo loved your cousin long ago, and your husband was my dearest friend."The man buried his face in his hands and was silent for a moment; hepulled himself together with an effort. "When I saw what the boxcontained, the whole ghastly secret was laid bare to me in an instant.You remember when we were in Rome, by chance, by merest chance, I sawyour husband at a masked ball with a lady; at that ball arose thequarrel between your husband and the unfortunate Frenchman who fell byhis hand. The box will tell you the rest. The masked lady wore amagnificent pair of single-stone diamond earrings." Spunyarn unlockedthe box, placed it in front of his friend's widow and walked to thewindow.
With trembling fingers Mrs. Haggard opened it. There was a little packetof letters in Lucy Warrender's undeveloped girlish hand, the ink ofwhich had faded; then a pair of single-stone brilliant earrings, whichsparkled and shimmered in the firelight, as the widow took them in hertrembling fingers; to one of them was still attached the duplicate ofthe _Mont de Piete_, dated the very day of her cousin's death. Last ofall was a little purple velvet case on which was her husband's monogramwith the single word "Rome," and a date just over twenty years ago. Sheopened it with difficulty; in it was a lovely miniature, not a merephotographer's likeness, of her cousin Lucy in all the pride of hergirlish beauty, as a shepherdess, in powdered hair and in a Watteaucostume. The face seemed to smile at her with an air of insolenttriumph, that old smile of Lucy's which her cousin remembered so well inthe days gone by, but which she had missed for many a long year. Thepainter had not forgotten to place in the ears of the shepherdess a pairof single-stone earrings; in the hand was the ordinary black silk vizardworn at masquerades, and the shepherdess was depicted in the act ofunmasking. Nothing more pretty, nothing more piquant, nothing more_chic_ could be imagined. The widow placed the miniature upon the table,and as she did so a single object still remaining in the box caught hereye. It was only a little black silk mask, and from the two holes in thetoy, in her disordered imagination, the eyes of her dead cousin stillseemed to sparkle with a mocking light. She dropped the miniature intothe box and closed the lid which shut out the horrid phantom.
As the box closed with an angry click, Lord Spunyarn turned towards thevictim of her husband's perfidy.
"There is no need of explanation; my husband was right. I understand itall, but I forgave him, Lord Spunyarn, and I forgive him still. PoorLucius!"
This was all she said.
Spunyarn resumed his seat at the fireside. Then there was a longsilence, which neither seemed disposed to break.
At last with an effort he spoke. "What is to be done, dear madam? I wishthe secret had remained in the dead man's keeping; it is a dreadfulresponsibility. Can it be still kept?"
"It is my duty towards my dead husband, Lord Spunyarn," she saiddecisively.
"But you have another duty, dear lady; a duty to your son and a duty tothe old man here, who looks on Lucius as his heir."
"My son must suffer with me, Lord Spunyarn, for his father's fault."
Spunyarn shook his head. "Not so, dear lady; there is but one way, onepossible way, to preserve the reputation of those who are gone and to dojustice, for justice must be done. Pit Town must know; for others,taking the lowest standpoint, may possess the secret, and the honour ofthe family must not be compromised. Lucius must efface himself, that isthe only course."
"Efface himself, Lord Spunyarn? I know the boy, the orphan boy; he wasmy husband's child; and with all his faults I love him; he will neverconsent to that; he would die first," said Reginald Haggard's widow.
"And die he must, I mean socially. There is no other way."
"He will never consent, Lord Spunyarn," repeated the widow. "He iswrapped up in the fact that he is Lord Pit Town's heir. With George itis different; he is my own son, my very son," she added bitterly, "and,if I wish it, he will give up everything for my sake and his father's;his father's honour is as dear to him as it is to me. Besides, myhusband evidently foresaw the dilemma in which he has placed us, andmade the boy his heir."
"But justice, dear lady, justice----"
"Justice, Lord Spunyarn," cried the indignant woman as she rose to herfeet. "God's justice, do you mean, or man's? Is it not enough that myhusband should have betrayed and befooled me for twenty years, andshould have robbed my boy of his very heritage, and more than that, ofhalf the treasure of a mother's love? For I tell you, strange andunnatural as it may seem, that I love Lucius; ay, I love him, though heis poor Lucy's child and my husband's bastard. And who could help lovingthe poor helpless, friendless, neglected child? Yes, I acted the love atfirst, Lord Spunyarn, and it grew upon me till it became a part ofmyself. Is it for nothing, that when my husband was bleeding to deathbefore my very eyes, that he bade me take care of Lucius? I have been afaithful and obedient wife, Lord Spunyarn, and I will obey my husband'slast behest to the letter. I will protect his son's interests and hisson's rights."
"Alas, he has no rights, dear madam," said Spunyarn gently.
"The secret, Lord Spunyarn, is not yours or mine; it is my husband's andhers," she added, pointing to the box. "When she made me swear to keepher secret, she threatened to hau
nt me should I betray her. How could Ianswer her? It was a girl's idle jest, I know; but I did swear it, Godknows how unwillingly, and Heaven help me I will keep my oath. Yes, Iwill keep my oath," here she sank into a chair, and covering her facewith her hands, wept bitterly.
Lord Spunyarn paced the room in doubt. He was a man of principle, areligious man, a man of honour--strange combination forsooth in thisnineteenth century, and he remembered that his mouth was closed. But washe, a good man, to stand idly by and see a great wrong done? Was he tosee the honours and title of a noble family descend to a bastard throughthe secret machinations of an artful woman? Heaven forbid!
"Think it over, dear madam, think it over," he said; "let me beg you, atleast, to sleep on it, and God give you counsel," he added in a brokenvoice, and then leaving the little red box and its contents upon thetable where it lay, he hurriedly left the room.
While the interview which has been described was taking place, the twoyoung men were walking briskly up and down the great avenue, which wasalready yellowing with commencing autumn.
It was Lucius who spoke.
"We have changed places, George, with a vengeance; it is I who am thepauper now. If my father meant to surprise me, he certainly succeeded.You are the man of property, George, while I am rich only inexpectations. Thank goodness, neither my father, the old man, nor anyone else can keep me out of the title and the entailed property; butthere may be a deuce of a long time to wait. By Jove! you know thesevery old men don't die, they dry up. Why, look at grandfather Warrender.It's a horrid nuisance this mourning, though I shall be heartily gladwhen I have to go into black next time. His lordship is a decidedobstructionist;" so spoke the elder brother, as he blew a big cloud ofsmoke into the air.
"Don't pretend to be a brute, Lucius; you don't mean it, you know, oldfellow," said George.
"But I do mean it, though. There's no more ridiculous custom thanmourning. It's a monstrous thing and ought to be done away with by actof parliament, like suttee in India was--we could see the absurdity ofthat. We have a kind of modified suttee here. Why, look at mother! Whyshould she have to dress herself like a guy? It's a ridiculous custom, Isay. Why should I have to wear black gloves in order that I may exhibitmy woe by the stains on my fingers? And why should I be compelled tolook like a British working man out for a holiday, and pass the greaterpart of my time in flicking the dust off my clothes? I've been badlytreated, George, and now I find myself pitchforked into a ridiculousposition. Here I am, heir to a title and any amount of coin, and withouta farthing I can call my own. I wonder whether the old man will thinkfit to make me an allowance; he gave Hetton a big one, I have alwaysheard. Do you suppose I offended the governor, George?"
"No; the will was made several years ago, you know, when we were boys."
"Well, it's uncommonly rough. Anyhow, you'll allow that, I suppose; andI confess I don't care for the _role_ of a waiter upon Providence. Theonly thing I seem to have inherited at all is Capt, and I shall ridmyself of him at the earliest opportunity; he must have saved a pile ofmoney; he ought to go back to Switzerland and start an hotel. They alldo, I believe, when they don't cut their master's throats as Courvoisierdid. By Jove! I wonder whether Capt would lend me any money? If hewon't, I must try the Jews. Why, since the governor died, I've beeninundated with circulars from the house of Israel."
"You needn't trouble about money, Lucius; you can have anything you wantfrom me, you know."
"It's very good of you to say so, George; but as I shall have to go tothe Jews sooner or later, it's hardly worth while spunging upon you. Imay as well take the bull by the horns at once. Though, betweenourselves, I don't see why my mother shouldn't do something for me, andso circumvent the governor's injustice. You and she got all the plunderbetween you."
"Don't talk like that, Lucius. It's not right. It's hard on you, veryhard; but I wouldn't have anything to do with money-lenders if I wereyou."
"Oh, of course not; that's the good advice all you wealthy fellowsalways give us poor devils; it's the way of the world."
"You're not fair, Lucius; we are both under age, but this you can relyon, till you come into your own, at all events, you're welcome to sharemy purse."
"Do you really mean that, George?"
"Of course I mean it, or I shouldn't say it."
"I didn't believe you were half the good fellow that you are, my boy.Let's shake hands on it," and the two young fellows shook hands, butGeorge's generosity was a bitter pill indeed to Lucius Haggard.
Mr. Maurice Capt did not find himself comfortable under the new_regime_. He was still Mr. Haggard's man, but things were changed; hedisliked his new master, and his sharp eyes soon detected that thedislike was more than reciprocated. When Lucy Warrender died, what helooked upon as a legitimate source of income he suddenly found closed tohim for ever. The proprietor of a valuable secret is naturally anxiousto secure the best return possible from his property, but unfortunatelyin Mr. Capt's case dividends may be said to have ceased. As he turnedthe matter over in his mind he disliked his investment more and more.It seemed to have assumed the aspect of a very unpromising propertyindeed. What was he to do? The terms of Reginald Haggard's will were nosecret to him, for, in his first rage and mortification, the youngLucius had confided his woes to his late father's confidential servant.Should he, the valet, hang on at Walls End Castle for an indefiniteperiod, until Lucy Warrender's son should come into the old lord'sproperty, when he would be able to recommence the blackmailing processwhich he had so successfully carried out upon the young man's mother? Heknew enough of the character of Lucius Haggard to feel certain that thepower he would possess in such a case would be boundless. But Mr. Captwas no longer a young man; he, like his master, might die suddenly, andthen the secret would die with him. That miserable anticipation filledhim with horror and indignation. Should he go to the widow, inform herthat he shared her secret, and, for a good round sum in ready money,sell his silence, and of course betray her as soon as he found itconvenient to do so? Should he go to the old earl, and make the bestbargain he could under the circumstances? He was torn by conflictingdoubts. Mr. Capt had an observant eye; he had noticed that there hadbeen an exciting interview between the widow and her late husband'sexecutor, and he became aware of the fact that a little red morocco box,which in the old days had usually accompanied his master upon histravels, had passed into Mrs. Haggard's personal custody. Intuitively,he correctly jumped to the conclusion, that in some way or other, thered morocco box was connected with the secret of Lucius Haggard's birth.Mr. Capt felt then that it was his duty, as a prudent man, to ascertainthe nature of the contents of the box, or even to obtain possession ofit. Promptitude as well as firmness had characterised every action ofMr. Capt's life; with him to determine was to execute, and he made uphis mind not to rest until he had mastered the secret of the box, andthat his subsequent action should be guided by the information soobtained.
Reginald Haggard was a wise man, a man who burnt his letters, a man whowas as a rule untroubled by sentiment. The one episode in his early lifeover which, to him, there had still hung a sort of unhealthy halo ofromance, was the affair with Lucy Warrender. Many a time and oft hadcommon sense urged him to commit the contents of the little red box tothe flames; but he knew too well that somehow or another his wife hadbecome the involuntary accomplice of her cousin's fault. He had notburned the contents of the box; if he had done so the secret, as far ashe was concerned, would probably have died with him; but he had notburned it. Hence his whispered death-bed confession to his friendSpunyarn, and his appeal to his wife for forgiveness.
Mrs. Haggard had turned the matter over in her mind again and again. Toher it seemed unnecessary to rake up an old scandal, at least duringLord Pit Town's life; the propriety of letting sleeping dogs liecommended itself very strongly to her mind. She herself was quiteconvinced that when it became necessary to communicate the secret toyoung Lucius Haggard things would right themselves without a scandal. Ofcourse Lucius would do what was right, and so
would George for thematter of that. Spunyarn's suggestion that Lucius Haggard should "effacehimself," and so voluntarily suffer a social death, seemed to her but abrutal and inhuman method of cutting the Gordian knot. She had neveragain opened the little red box, since she had closed it on the occasionof her interview with her husband's executor. To her mind the simplestthing of all would have been to do away with the box and its contents,but she gave way to the better judgment of Spunyarn in this matter. Onone thing, however, she was determined: by no act of hers should herdead cousin's shameful secret be dragged into the light of day; and soshe made up her mind to communicate her decision to Spunyarn, and todeliver the box to him for safety.
Lord Spunyarn's reflections upon the whole matter convinced him of onething--his own unenviable position. To his mind the matter wasthoroughly clear, and his own duty peremptorily defined. He had receivedthe secret as a death bed confidence; there could be no doubt as to themystery of Lucius Haggard's birth. It was certainly not for him to standcalmly by and see the Pit Town title and the Pit Town estates pass toReginald Haggard's bastard son. It was his duty to take the old lordinto his confidence and to break the matter to the brothers. His ownevidence and that of George's mother, coupled with the contents of thebox, would set the facts at rest beyond a doubt. If young Lucius werean honourable man he would not attempt to make matters worse by auseless contest in the Law Courts, but would doubtless of his own accordsee the wisdom of disappearing into an honourable obscurity, while LordPit Town and George Haggard would, of course, provide for him. He feltassured that having had time for reflection Mrs. Haggard herself wouldinevitably consent to this, the only possible course of action. As toher scruples respecting her cousin's secret, they would be overcome. Itwas then with a mind fully made up that Lord Spunyarn demanded a secondinterview with his dead friend's widow, and he requested young LuciusHaggard to await his summons to speak with them "on a matter which," ashe phrased it, "concerns you nearly."
He found Mrs. Haggard comparatively cheerful.
"I have thought it all over, Lord Spunyarn," she said. "You were myhusband's friend. I place myself in your hands unreservedly."
Spunyarn gave a sigh of relief, and then he proceeded to sketch thecourse of action which we have given above.
"We will tell no one, dear Mrs. Haggard. George himself need never know.The whole thing can be a simple matter of arrangement. Of course Luciusmust know all, and Pit Town. I purpose to break it to Lucius at once,and to him at least your cousin's name need never be mentioned. He ishis father's son after all."
"His father's son," she said with a sigh. "Yes, his father's son," sherepeated with meaning. "Must it be done to-day?"
"Don't let us procrastinate, dear lady. Shall I send for him? He isawaiting our summons."
The widow nodded, and Spunyarn went to seek the youth, who in a fewminutes was to be stripped of name and fame and wealth.
So far from suspecting a communication of an unpleasant nature, youngLucius Haggard, his face wreathed in anticipatory smiles, wasimpatiently drumming upon the window-pane in the library with hisfinger-tips. It seemed to him that this formal interview with his motherand his father's executor could have but one object, namely, to announceto him that a suitable provision was to be made for the heir to the PitTown title during the short time that must necessarily elapse ere heshould come into his heritage. But his anticipations were considerablydamped by Lord Spunyarn's first words. The elder man placed his handaffectionately upon the young fellow's shoulder.
"Lucius, my poor boy," he said, "prepare yourself for a surprise, and agreat disappointment," he added ominously.
The happy smile of anticipation left the young fellow's face as he heardthe words.
"Well, Lord Spunyarn," he said, "when my father cut me off without eventhe proverbial shilling, I thought he had done the worst he could forme."
Lord Spunyarn took no notice of the remark.
"My poor fellow," he said, "steel yourself to hear what I have to tellyou. I will tell you now," he added, "to spare your poor mother the painand horror of having the sad story repeated in her presence. Lucius," hesaid solemnly, "you are no longer the heir to the Pit Town title, andall that goes with it."
"Good heavens!" cried the young man as he sank into a chair, "it can'tbe true. Did Hetton contract a secret marriage, and is there a son? Doesthe old man know of it?"
"It isn't that, Lucius. Compose yourself," Spunyarn added after a shortpause, "and listen to what I have to tell you. This thing concerns youand your brother only. Lucius, bear it like a man, but, my poor boy,you are illegitimate."
"Did my mother dare----" he began, but Spunyarn stopped him with agesture.
"Lucius," he said severely, "the lady who has allowed you to call hermother from the time you were a little child, did so out of kindness;speak no ill word of her, my boy, for to her you owe everything, to herlove, and to her forbearance."
"Great God! Lord Spunyarn, it can't be true, there is some base plot inthe matter. Who is the heir, the man who calls himself the heir, Imean?" he asked fiercely, and he clenched his hands; and his eyes, LucyWarrender's eyes, sparkled with mingled rage and hate. "We shall contestthe thing, of course?"
"The heir, Lucius, the rightful heir, is your brother George; he wasborn in wedlock, while you, alas, though your father's son, are----"
"Not base born; don't say that, Lord Spunyarn."
But Spunyarn nodded sadly.
"I won't believe it, Lord Spunyarn," almost shouted the young man withuncontrollable fury. "Have you, my father and my mother, been hatchingthis infernal plot between you all these years? Can the dead man's handstrike me, even from beyond the grave? I won't believe it, it isn'ttrue. I'll fight it in the Courts. What does Lord Pit Town say? Does hegive a tacit consent to my undoing?"
"Pit Town as yet knows nothing. Lucius, try to be calm. Listen to me,"and as gently as he could he broke to the indignant boy the dismal factof his heritage of shame, that he was but Reginald Haggard's love-childafter all.
"And my mother?" said the boy in a broken voice.
"No need to speak of her, Lucius; she is dead."
"Have you the proofs, Lord Spunyarn, of all this?" said the boy morecalmly, after he had listened to Spunyarn's narrative in silence. "It'llhave to be proved, you know, proved to the hilt; that at least is myright, and I'll not forego it."
"Lucius, you have no rights."
"I must see the proofs, at least."
"Yes, you must see them, I suppose, but spare your mother, Lucius; sheis broken down with grief and suffering."
"Lord Spunyarn," said the boy coldly, "you say she is not my mother; whyshould I spare the feelings of my father's accomplice? Feelingsforsooth;" and he laughed bitterly.
"Lucius, you are mad. Let me beseech you, as a gentleman, in the painfulinterview that must take place, to spare your father's widow as much aspossible. Deal gently with her, boy; it is she who has been the victimin the whole matter."
"Don't bandy words with me, Lord Spunyarn," cried the young man, andfor the moment the impetuous Reginald Haggard of bygone years seemed tostand before the astonished nobleman in the very flesh. "You tell me,"he continued in a calmer tone, "that George Haggard is the heir, that Iam but my father's base-born child. Show me the proofs of this and I'llbelieve it; till then, Lord Spunyarn, I simply say you lie," and theyoung man bowed defiantly. "Let us go," he continued, "to the cleverwoman who has hoodwinked me for a lifetime. I follow you, sir."
Lord Spunyarn made no reply, but led the way to the widow's boudoir.
As they entered, Mrs. Haggard rose and opened her arms to Lucius, butshe sunk again into her chair, staring with sad astonishment at theextraordinary transformation that had been suddenly effected in theyoung man. His dead father, in an access of furious passion, seemed tostand before her. No answering look of affection was upon his face; theyoung mouth was firmly set, and the eyes glittered with savage defiance.
"Lucius," she said with an effort, "dear Lucius."
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"Madam," he replied, as, uninvited, he seated himself with an attempt atdignity, "his lordship has inflicted upon me a strange and improbablestory. I have told him, and I do honestly believe it, that that wildstory is a lie, a wicked lie. He tells me that you hold the proofs. Letme then see these proofs, that I may make him my humble apologies, andgo out from your presence into the world a nameless beggar. But you willplease remember that you will find it difficult to deceive me, and todeceive Lord Pit Town, for you must cheat us both."
"Lucius," said Mrs. Haggard in a broken voice.
But Lord Spunyarn interrupted her. "I had hoped, dear lady," he said,"to have spared you such a scene as this; let me deal with him, Mrs.Haggard. The proofs, Lucius," he added, "are here. I myself can supplythe few missing links in the chain of evidence. It is but natural,perhaps," he said, "and you have, as you say, a right to see these sadproofs, unhappy boy, of the miserable folly and wickedness of your realparents. Look at them, then; examine them for yourself, and then youcannot fail to be convinced that I have not lied to you after all."
He turned the key in the lock and softly opened the box; then theastonished man gave a sudden start and placed his hand to his forehead.
Young Lucius Haggard rose to his feet, and laughed a loud, indignant,mocking laugh.
_The box was empty!_