Dora heard the news from one of her scholars, and retailed3 it to her friend when she came home to luncheon4. Bella turned pale when she heard of the affair. She guessed that this was the work of Durgo, and reproached herself for having enlisted5 his services. But then, she argued, that if Durgo really was responsible for the preacher's sickness, he would have appeared in Miss Ankers' cottage in the morning, to explain what had taken place, and possibly—supposing he had been successful—to show the papers. Then again, if this was Durgo's work, Bella wondered why the preacher had not denounced him. It seemed to her, on this assumption, that Pence feared to say too much, lest he should be questioned too closely. Dora certainly had no more suspicions than had anyone else, but what the story of the young man was absolutely true.
"He never did look healthy," said Dora, when the meal was ended, "so I am not surprised to hear that he has these epileptic fits."
"Perhaps he'll get over them," hinted Bella feebly, and not looking at her friend, lest she should betray herself.
"My dear, people with epilepsy never recover," rebuked6 Dora seriously, "and I wonder that the man dared to ask you to marry him, seeing what he suffered from. What a terrible thing to have a husband with fits."
"Are you sure that it was a fit?" asked Bella, trying to salve her conscience with the idea that Durgo had nothing to do with the matter—a vain attempt.
"My dear, am I sure that the hair grows on my head? Of course, I am sure. The man himself explained how he fell, just as he clutched at the bell. He hit his poor head against the iron fender—you know, dear, one of those old-fashioned kitchen fenders, now out of date. It's a mercy there was no fire in the grate, or he would have been burnt to death. Why, a cousin of mine once"—and Dora went off into a long and wearisome tale of a member of her family who had suffered in the same way.
When the little old school-mistress returned to her duties, Bella sat down to consider things. On the face of it, Durgo had done nothing, and Silas really might suffer from fits. But as he had never fallen before, and as Bella knew that Durgo would stop at nothing to get the papers, which she believed existed, she began to believe that the fall was by design and not by accident. This belief taking full possession of her, she longed feverishly7 to see the negro, and to ask questions. But, although she watched for quite two hours at the window, he never appeared. Then—as her nerves were strung up nearly to snapping pitch—she determined8 to call round at Cyril's lodgings9 and tell him of her interview with the black man. For the moment, she was unwilling10 to do this, as she guessed that Cyril would be angry. Still, as it was more or less certain that Durgo himself would tell her lover—always supposing the papers existed and had been obtained—Bella thought it would be wiser to be first in the field with her story. Besides, in any case, she would have to confess to Cyril, so why not now? The only chance of getting at the truth of the matter of the murder lay in herself and Durgo and Cyril working amicably11 together, and in keeping nothing back from one another.
There was a certain amount of risk in going to Cyril's lodgings, as his landlady, Mrs. Block, was one of the most notorious gossips in the village. She would be certain to talk of the visit, and to make unkind comments on the fact of a young lady choosing to visit a bachelor without a chaperon. And a chaperon Bella could not have, since she wished no one else to be present during her conversation with Cyril. A third party would mean that she would be unable to speak plainly and all knowledge of the case—inner knowledge that is—must be confined to herself, her lover, and to the negro. It would never do to let the outside world know of the means they were taking to arrive at the truth, and a chaperon might easily play the part of a she-Judas.
And after all—as Bella reflected, when hurrying along the road—she had no one to consider but herself, since it mattered very little what was said about her, so long as Cyril was true. She was at war with her aunt—if, indeed, Mrs. Vand was her aunt—she had no friend but Dora, and there was really no person whom she desired to conciliate. Under these circumstances, she took her courage in both hands and with a calm face, but with her heart in her mouth, she rapped at the door of Lister's lodgings. Luckily he had observed her from the window, and opened the door himself.
"I am so glad to see you Bella," he said, shaking hands in a conventional manner, as the stout12 form of Mrs. Block appeared at the end of the passage, "for I was just coming round to propose a walk on the common."
"It is a beautiful day," said Bella, likewise conventional.
"Very. Wait until I get my hat and stick. Mrs. Block, if anyone calls, I am going to the common with Miss Huxham."
"And a very lovely sweet walk it is," said Mrs. Block, coming nearer to see if Bella was dressed in sufficiently13 deep mourning for her presumed father, "as I said to Block, if he'd only make the money a man like him ought to make, I'd be strolling on that there common, dressed up as fine as nine-pence. But there, you never get what you want in this world, and ain't it dreadful, Miss Huxham, about poor Mr. Pence?"
"Very dreadful!" assented14 Bella politely, then as Cyril was ready, she went with him out of the gate, leaving Mrs. Block looking after them. Luckily for the couple, Mrs. Block had nothing to say against the visit. Indeed it was in her heavy mind that Cyril, having failed to take Bella out as promised, had been called upon by a young lady weary of waiting.
"So like a man," soliloquised Mrs. Block, standing15 on her door-step, broom in hand, "they never thinks, never, never! And if this Mr. Lister commences neglect afore marriage, what will it be when the honeymoon's over. Ah, poor Miss Huxham! what with her pa dying, and her aunt robbing, and him as should love her neglecting—it's a miserable16 life she'll have. Ah, well, there's always the grave to look forward to," and ending her soliloquy thus cheerfully, Mrs. Block entered the house and shut the door with a bang.
Meanwhile the lovers, quite ignorant of Mrs. Block's opinion, walked along the village street, and soon emerged on to the common. They passed the cottage wherein Silas Pence lodged17, and this recalled the episode of the so-called fit to Cyril, as he had heard all particulars from his garrulous18 landlady. "I'm sorry for Pence," said Cyril, glancing at the cottage.
"It's such an awful thing for a person to have fits. If I'd known that I should not have pitched him over the fence last night. Of course, he's a rotter, and a blighter, and a nuisance; but he's weak, and I shouldn't have treated him so roughly. I only hope," said Cyril gloomily, "that it wasn't the fall I gave him which brought about this beastly fit."
"You can be quite sure of that," said Bella sharply; "in fact," she hesitated, then spoke20 out boldly, "I don't believe he had a fit."
"My dearest girl, he said so himself, according to Mrs. Block."
"I know he did, as Dora told me. And that makes me the more certain of his connection with the murder of my father. I suppose I must call Captain Huxham my father until I am certain of the truth of what Mr. Pence said."
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Cyril, stopping to stare at the down-cast, flushed face under the black hat. "Why should Pence tell a lie about his fall?"
"Because he didn't want anyone to know that Durgo had thrown him down."
Cyril stared harder. "Would you mind explaining?" he said politely, "I still cannot understand your meaning."
"I don't know that I understand myself," she replied nervously. "The fact is, Cyril, I believe that Durgo threw Mr. Pence down when he refused to give up those papers."
"What papers?" asked Lister, still bewildered.
"The papers which tell the truth about me."
"But, my dear girl, that is all supposition. We don't know if any papers exist, after all. Pence may have spoken at random21."
"You believed that he spoke the truth."
"I did. I want to believe, as only by learning that you are not Captain Huxham's daughter can we marry," said Cyril dismally22; "but the wish is father to the thought, in my case."
"Well," said Bella, plunging23 into her confession24, "you had better ask Durgo if he assaulted Mr. Pence last night."
"Why should he?"
"I asked him to."
Cyril, who had walked on, stopped once more and stared. "You asked him to?"
"Yes." Bella was less nervous now. "I told him all that Mr. Pence said, and suggested that he should get the papers."
Cyril's face grew stern, as she knew it would. "Tell me everything that passed between you and that nigger."
"I have not said that I saw him," said Bella evasively.
"You could scarcely have asked him to assault Pence, unless you had seen him," retorted Cyril, who looked displeased25, "come, be frank. Tell me all."
Bella did so, omitting nothing, although she every now and then stole a glance at Cyril's compressed lips and corrugated26 brow. At the end of her explanation he looked up, and his eyes were hard. "You have acted very wrongly," he said sternly.
"I know I have: I admit as much," said the girl penitently27, "but, after all, I only asked him to get the papers. I did not tell him to hurt Mr. Pence."
Cyril shook his head impatiently. "You should not have seen this infernal nigger. I don't like any white woman to talk to niggers."
"I don't like them myself," said Bella quietly, "and you may be sure, had I not been anxious to learn the truth, I should not have spoken to Durgo."
"You could have asked me to speak."
"Would you have done so, seeing that you did not believe that the papers existed?"
"Nor do I believe now," replied Cyril, walking on quickly. "It is all guess work on your part."
"No, no, no!" insisted the girl, as they arrived at their favourite spot under a giant gorse bush; "the mere28 fact that Mr. Pence told a lie about his injury shows me that I am right."
"We don't know for certain that he met with his injury at Durgo's hands."
"Indeed you have," said Cyril in vexed30 tones, as they sat down. "You spurred on that infernal nigger to do what was wrong."
"I understood that you liked Durgo, and thought him a well-educated man."
"So I do like him; so I do consider him wonderfully well educated. He is an Oxford31 M.A., you know. But I daresay if you scratched him you would find that he is a common nigger after all."
"The son of a king?"
"An African king. Pooh! what's that? You must promise me, Bella, not to have anything more to do with him."
"But I have promised to seek for the jewels in the Manor-house," and Bella went on to state how she could enter Bleacres by the secret door. Cyril nodded and approved of the idea.
"But you must come to me and tell me what you find out. I don't want you to speak to Durgo more than you can help."
"Racial instinct is never unjust. I don't care if Durgo was a black Homer and Bismark and Napoleon rolled into one. He is a man of colour, and I detest33 the breed. Promise not to have anything to do with him—at all events unless I am present."
"I am not scolding. If I did you would cry."
The girl slipped her arm within that of her lover's, pleased to have escaped so easily. "I begin to think that I am marrying a tyrant35."
"You are marrying a man who loves you, and who wants to protect you from all dangers. Oh, Bella, Bella! I wish we could go away to London and get married quietly. Then we could go to Australia and leave this bad past behind. Will you come? I have money enough for a year, and by that time I'll be able to get something to do in Melbourne or Sydney."
Bella shook her head. "Dear, I love you dearly, but I can't marry you until I am quite sure that I am not Captain Huxham's daughter."
"In any case," said Cyril bitterly. "You will marry the son of a man who has committed a murder."
"I am not so sure of that. Now that Mr. Pence has told a lie I think that he may have something to do with the matter. He may be guilty."
Cyril groaned36. "I have no ill-will towards Pence, in spite of his insolence37 to you, but for the sake of my name I wish I could think so."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Bella, who was looking along the path, spoke to her lover in a frightened whisper. "Here is Durgo!"
And indeed it was. The negro swung along bluff38, heavy and ponderous39. He was in dark clothes, and these, with his black face, made him look like a blot40 on the sunshiny beauty of the summer world. At once, with his keen eyesight, he caught a glimpse of the lovers and strode towards them, smiling and bland41. Cyril nodded coldly. He could not forgive the black man's impertinence in speaking to Bella, quite forgetting that Bella was to blame and had sought the interview. Bella herself, remembering Cyril's warning and her own promise, did not dare to welcome the man.
"I went to see you," said Durgo, addressing Cyril, "and your landlady told me that you had gone to the common with Miss Huxham. I followed. I am glad to find you both together. I have much to say."
Bella could not contain her curiosity. "Did you——"
"Yes," said Durgo coolly, "I did. He would have made a noise, so I had to dash him to the ground. He hit his head against the fender. Mrs. Giles," he added with a grim laugh, "tells me that he accounts for the knock on his head by saying that he had a fit."
"What do you make out of that?" asked Cyril, casting a glance at Bella warning her to hold her tongue.
"Oh"—Durgo glanced from one to the other—"so Miss Huxham has told you?"
"About her interview? Yes! I am sorry you took her advice and saw Pence, for I knew that ill would come of it."
Durgo leisurely42 took a bundle of papers from his pocket. "Much good has come of it, as I am here to explain," said he quietly. "You were right, Miss Huxham. Pence had certain papers stolen from Captain Huxham's safe."
"Then he is guilty of the——"
"I can't be certain of that," interrupted the negro sharply. "I had no time to question Pence. As soon as I got the papers which he carried in his breast-coat pocket I slipped through the window. Lucky that I did so, for his landlady came in almost immediately in answer to the ring of the handbell. If he hadn't sounded it I should not have rendered him insensible, but I had to do so for my own safety."
"Well, well, well!" said Cyril impatiently, and looking at the papers, "we can talk of this later. You say that Miss Huxham's guess is correct?"
"It is. And I congratulate Miss Huxham on her clever brain. Pence was certainly a fool to say as much as he did, and especially to so talented a lady who guessed——"
"There! there! No more compliments. Tell us both at once. Did he speak truly when he stated that Miss Huxham was not the captain's daughter?"
"He spoke absolutely truly, as you will find when you read this," and Durgo placed a bulky roll of paper in Bella's hands.
"Oh!" she said, flushing a bright pink, "how glad I am. But whose daughter am I?" and she made to open the paper.
Cyril laid his hand on the bundle. "We haven't time to read all that now," he said gruffly. "Tell us shortly what you have discovered, Durgo?"
The negro nodded, and addressed himself to the girl. "Your name is Isabella Faith," he stated, "and you are the daughter of Maxwell Faith, who was my father Kawal's firm friend."
The lovers looked at one another. "But how did I come to pass as Captain Huxham's daughter?" she asked breathlessly.
Durgo shrugged43 his shoulders. "So far as I can read the story, which Captain Huxham has set down in that bundle you hold, he was smitten44 with compunction for having murdered your father and so adopted you."
Bella shuddered45. "How terrible to have lived with such a wicked old man," she said. "I never liked Captain Huxham, but thinking him my father I tried my best to do my duty. No wonder he would not leave the property to me!"
"I think he intended to leave you the jewels, though," said Durgo, thoughtfully. "He mentions in those papers that he intended to make a will leaving them to you, since his sister, Mrs. Vand, claimed Bleacres and his income. It's my opinion that Mrs. Vand learned how her brother had murdered Maxwell Faith, and so forced him to make that will."
"Then the jewels really belong to you, Bella?"
"Yes," said Durgo, rising and making a courteous46 bow. "And when we find Edwin Lister, my master, he shall restore the jewels."
"But your expedition?" asked Bella in surprise.
The negro looked at the lovers humorously. "I fear that there will be no expedition," he said seriously. "I cannot rob you of your fortune, Miss Faith. Marry our friend here and be happy."
"But what will you do?" asked Cyril, touched by this self-abnegation.
Durgo shrugged his shoulders again. "I shall search out Edwin Lister and return to Africa. In one way or another I daresay we can manage to get back to my tribe. Then I shall measure my strength and education against my cousin, who is wrongfully chief. For the rest, there is no more to be said. The papers you have, Miss Faith, will prove your birth and reveal all the doings of Huxham. There is no more for me to do, so I shall bid you both good-day and wish you all good luck."
The lovers stared to one another and then at the retreating form of Durgo, who had so delicately left them together. It was Cyril who spoke first.
"He is a good fellow, after all," he said. "That black skin covers a white heart. Oh! Bella, how strange it all is."
"Take me home," said the girl faintly, and with white cheeks. "I can bear no more at present. Isabella Faith is my name now——"
"Until you change it to that of Isabella Lister," said Cyril, kissing her.
But she only wept the more, broken down by the unexpected revelation.
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1
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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penitently
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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45
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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