CHAPTER XLIII.
THE LAST APPEARANCE OF FRANCIS HILLISTON.
UNAWARE of the tragedy which had taken place at Eastbourne, CaptainLarcher was in London brooding over his wrongs, and weaving schemes howto avenge himself on Hilliston. His eyes had been opened by Tait withregard to the conduct of that gentleman, and he now saw plainly that hehad been Hilliston's dupe for all these years. Indeed, he began to shareTait's opinion that the lawyer was guilty, and was casting about in hisown mind how to prove this, when an announcement in the papers informedhim of the death of Mrs. Hilliston.
"The smallpox killed her, no doubt," said Tait, when he had expressedhis regrets.
"No!" remarked Claude, who had been looking over the general news. "Itwas a case of suicide."
"Suicide!" exclaimed the hearers, in one breath.
"Yes, according to this paragraph. It appears that in some way oranother she became possessed of a bottle of laudanum while the nurse wasabsent. The woman returned to find her patient dead. Poor Mrs.Hilliston!" added Claude, folding up the paper with a sigh. "How sorry Iam to hear this."
"I wonder why she committed suicide?" said Tait meditatively. "Shelooked too determined a woman to yield to such a weakness."
"No doubt she found out that her husband was guilty of the crime," saidLarcher grimly, "and so did not care to live longer with a murderer."
"You are wrong, father," observed Claude, looking up; "it was theknowledge that she had lost her looks which killed her. Depend upon it,she took the poison so as to avoid dragging out her days a scarred andmiserable object."
"How do you know that, Claude?" asked his father, with a curious look onhis face.
"Because not once, but twice, or thrice, Mrs. Hilliston told me shewould kill herself rather than grow old and ugly. The loss of beautycame with the smallpox; and so she has carried out her resolve."
"It will be a blow to Hilliston."
"I don't think so," said Captain Larcher rather cynically. "From what Iremember of Louisa Sinclair, the love was all on her side. No doubt hemarried her when she was Mrs. Derrick purely for her money. No! No! Iquite believe the story of Mona Bantry. She was and is the woman of hislove. Now the wife is dead he can console himself with the mistress."
"That reminds me," observed Claude suddenly. "What are we to do aboutJenny? Is she to be informed that her mother is yet alive?"
Captain Larcher shook his head. "Set your mind at rest on that point,"he said with a nod. "I told Mrs. Bezel that Jenny was about to becomeyour wife; that she thinks her parents are dead; and I pointed out thatit would be unwise to mar the happiness of the girl by letting her knowthe truth. Mrs. Bezel agrees with me, and she has consented that thingsshall remain as they are."
"Does she not want to see Jenny, father?"
"Of course she does. It is only natural, poor soul, but she loves herchild sufficiently to avoid casting a shadow on her life. Jenny willnever know that Jeringham was her father or that her mother is stillalive. She will marry you, Claude, as Miss Kennedy, and know no more ofher connection with the matter than she does at present."
"And Denis?"
"Denis has been told. I wrote him two days ago, and I have no doubt hewill come up to town to see the last of his wretched sister."
"The last of her?"
"Can you doubt it? Mrs. Bezel has death written on her face."
"Another blow for Hilliston," said Tait, in a rather regretful tone.Villain as he knew the lawyer to be, he could not help feeling sorry forhis troubles. Fate had held her hand a long time, but now she wasdealing a full measure, and pouring the vials of her wrath on the headof the sinner.
"It will be a heavier blow than the last," said Larcher, in a severetone, "for there is no doubt Hilliston truly loves Mona."
"I suppose Denis will object to his going near her again."
"It is impossible to say. We must leave that to the man himself."
This conversation took place in Tait's rooms one morning some threeweeks after the momentous interview with Mrs. Bezel. It had been CaptainLarcher's intention to return at once to Thorston, but he had beendissuaded from this by his son, who thought a few weeks in town would dohis father good. There was no doubt on this point, for Captain Larcherbrisked up wonderfully in the exhilarating atmosphere of the West End.But for the unexplained mystery of Jeringham's death, he would have beenquite happy in the recovered society of his son, and even while thefuture was still black enjoyed himself in no small degree. It did Claudegood to see that his father was at length getting some pleasure out oflife, after his years of incessant trouble and wearing anxiety.
The next day Denis, looking older and grayer than ever, came up to seehis sister. He saw his master for a few minutes, and then went on toHampstead.
"I have told Denis how ill she is," explained Captain Larcher, as theman took his departure, "and he has promised to be as lenient aspossible toward her wrong-doing. By the way, Hilliston is in town."
"Hilliston!"
"Yes. He came up in the same train as Denis, and had the impudence tospeak to him. Asked him where I was, as he wanted to see me."
"To see you, father?" cried Claude, in astonishment. "What for?"
"I think I can guess," interposed Tait quietly, "Hilliston has beenstricken by his wife's death, and wants to atone for his sins byconfessing the truth. I would not be surprised if he called here thisafternoon."
Captain Larcher looked skeptical, but said nothing, and the matterdropped for the time being. As it happened Denis was still ignorant thathis sister had been the mistress of the lawyer, else there might havebeen trouble. He had but a confused idea of Hilliston's connection withthe case, and, beyond knowing that he was the owner of the garnetscarfpin, could not conceive that he had been actually present in thegarden when the murder was committed. True it was that the scarfpin hadbeen found on the spot where the corpse of Jeringham had lain, butassured by his master that Hilliston was innocent, as Captain Larcherhad truly believed these many years, Denis never gave the matter asecond thought. Now he would learn the truth from Mrs. Bezel.
Denis only came back in the afternoon, looking much put out. The ruin ofhis much loved sister by Jeringham had been a great blow to him, but thediscovery that she was alive and had been living in sin with Hillistonstartled him considerably. He could hardly reply to the questions of hismaster, but ultimately related that they had parted friends. Mrs. Bezelhad told him that the doctor assured her she could not live much longer;and in the shadow of death Denis had freely forgiven her all her sinsand follies.
"And, indeed, sir, what else could I do," said Denis, wiping the tearsfrom his eyes, "when I saw the poor thing lying there like a corpse?It's a bitter time she's had of it, these last ten years, in thatdeath-in-life state. Oh yes, captain, I forgave her freely, poor soul!"
"And Hilliston?" asked Larcher inquiringly.
"May his black soul burn," cried Denis, with a scowl. "Were I or heyounger I'd leave my mark on him. Mona had a letter from him saying hewas calling to see her this evening, but that he had an appointment withyou, sir."
"With me, Denis! It is the first I have heard of it. Where is he?"
At this moment, as if in response to his question, the door opened andTait appeared, looking very disturbed.
"Mr. Hilliston is here, Captain Larcher, and wishes to speak with you."
Claude had entered the room by another door, and, on hearing this,stepped forward looking slightly pale. He slipped his arm within that ofhis father, as though to protect the elder man. Then they all waited tohear what Captain Larcher had to say. The permission for the interviewmust come from the man who had been most deeply wronged. He thought fora moment or so with a frown on his face, then sank into a chair with adeep sigh.
"Denis, stand behind me," he said, in a peremptory tone. "Claude, sitdown yonder. Now, Mr. Tait, we are ready to see our friend."
Tait anticipated this permission, and was already prepared for it.Withou
t a word he threw open the door, and Hilliston, dressed in deepmourning, entered the room with a paper in his hand. He looked pale andworn, his fresh color was gone, and as he spoke he kept his eyespersistently on the ground. It could be easily seen that the man hadreceived a shock from which he would not easily recover.
"I have called to see you and deliver this," he said, in a low tone,placing the paper he carried on the table. "I do not ask yourforgiveness, Larcher, for I do not consider I have done anything tojustify your anger against me."
"You could have saved me all these years of anguish by telling me thetruth," said Larcher indignantly.
"Perhaps! But it was not to my interest to tell you the truth."
"I don't wonder at that," said Claude bitterly. "You were afraid of thelaw."
"Perhaps," said Hilliston again. "On the other hand I may not be soguilty as you think me. You will find the truth in that paper."
He pointed toward the table, and the eyes of all immediately turned inthat direction, while Hilliston moved toward the door.
"Having fulfilled the promise I made to my dead wife, I now take myleave," he said quietly. "I will never see any of you again, and someday you may learn that you have misjudged me. Good-by."
He opened the door, but before he could pass through Denis sprangforward.
"My sister?" he said, with an indignant look in his eyes.
"I am about to repair the wrong I did her," replied the lawyer gravely."By to-morrow she will be my wife."