"I saw Mrs Gabriel," he said quietly. "We had a long conversation, and she told me what she had said to the vicar."
"Is it a serious matter?" asked the detective.
"Serious enough to prevent my marriage," replied Leo; "but what it is I do not feel called upon to explain. It concerns myself and no one else. If you could help me, Marton, I should tell you, but you cannot—no one can. I don't think there is any more to be said."
Seeing the young man thus determined3, Marton said no more, as he did not wish to force Leo's confidence. The next morning he took his departure, assuring Haverleigh that he was always at his disposal when wanted. "Depend upon it," he said, as he took leave, "you are not yet done with Mrs Gabriel. She will get you into more trouble. When she does, write to that address."
"Thank you, Marton; should I require your assistance I will write."
The two men parted, Marton to London, and Leo back to the inn. He was very miserable4, the more so as he had to avoid the society of Sybil. Knowing what he did, it was impossible for him to talk of love to her. He felt that he had no right to do so—that he was gaining her affections wrongly. Sooner or later he would have to leave her, but he did not wish to break away abruptly5. Little by little he hoped to withdraw himself from her presence, and thus the final separation would be more easy. All the next day he wandered alone on the moor6, where there was no chance of meeting with Sybil. The morning afterwards he received a note from Mrs Gabriel stating that a certain person had taken his departure, Leo was then in a fever of anxiety lest the person should be captured.
However, he learned within twenty-four hours that there was no need to worry. An unsigned telegram came from London, intimating that the sender was in safety, and would communicate with him when the time was ripe. Leo took this to mean that Pratt could not easily get at the papers verifying his story, owing to the vigilance exercised by the police, who were on the look-out for him. Leo therefore possessed7 his soul in patience until such time as all should be made clear.
Meantime, as he told Pratt, he was hoping against hope that the story was not true. Certainly Pratt had spoken in what appeared to be a most truthful8 way, h had exhibited an emotion he would scarcely have given way to had he been telling a falsehood. But Haverleigh knew what an actor the man was, and, until proof was forthcoming, still cherished a hope that a comedy had been acted for some reason best known to Pratt himself. That is, it was a comedy to Pratt; but to Leo Haverleigh it approached perilously9 near to tragedy. Afterwards, looking back on the agony of those few days, he wondered that he had not killed himself in sheer despair.
But he could not remain in the same place with Sybil without feeling an overwhelming desire to tell her the whole story, and thus put an end to an impossible situation. Once she knew the truth, that he was the son of a criminal, she would see that a marriage was out of the question. Leo was quite certain that she would still love him, and, after all, he was not responsible for the sins of his father. But for the sake of Mr Tempest, she could not marry him, nor—as he assured himself—would he ask her to do so. Two or three times he was on the point of seeking her out and revealing all; but a feeling of the grief he would cause her made him change his determination. He resolved finally to leave her in a fool's paradise until he had proof from Pratt of the supposed paternity. But to be near her and not speak to her was unbearable10. So he sent a note saying he was called away for a few days on business, and went to Portfront. Here he remained waiting to hear from Pratt. And no man could have been more miserable, a mood scarcely to be wondered at considering the provocation11.
Meantime, Colester society had been much exercised over the discovery of Leo's innocence12 and the supposed delinquency of Pratt. Certainly, as Haverleigh and Mrs Gabriel knew, Pratt had generously taken on his own shoulders the blame which had wrongfully rested on those of the young man. But no one else knew this, and even if Pratt had come forward and told the truth, no one would have believed him. He had been so clearly proved to be a thief, and the scandal concerning the stolen goods in The Nun's House was so great, that there was no ill deed with which the villagers and gentry13 of Colester were not prepared to credit him. Mrs Bathurst was particularly virulent14 in her denunciations of the rascal15.
"But I always knew that he was a bad lot," said Mrs Bathurst. "Did I not say it was incredible that a wealthy man should come down to pass his days in a dull place like Colester? How lucky it is that we found out his wickedness, thanks to that dear Mr Marton, who is, I am sure, a perfect gentleman, in spite of his being a police officer. I shall always look upon him as having saved Peggy. The creature," so she always called her former favourite, "wanted to marry Peggy. I saw it in his eye. Perhaps I might have yielded, and then what would have happened? I should have had a Jack16 the Ripper in the family!"
"Oh! scarcely as bad as that, Mrs Bathurst," said Raston, to whom she was speaking. "Pratt was never a murderer."
"How do you know that, Mr Raston? For my part, I believe he was capable of the most terrible crimes. If he had married Peggy! The very idea makes me shudder17. But the dear child has escaped the snares18 of evil, and I hope to see her shortly the wife of a good man," here Mrs Bathurst cast a look on her companion.
Raston smiled. He knew perfectly19 well what she meant. Failing the wealthy Pratt, who had been proved a scoundrel, the humble20 curate had a chance of becoming Mrs Bathurst's son-in-law. And Raston was not unwilling21. He loved Peggy and she loved him. They understood one another, and had done so for some time. Never would Peggy have married Pratt had he asked her a dozen times. But, as she had told Raston, the man had never intended to propose. Knowing this, Raston was glad to see that Mrs Bathurst was not disinclined to accept him as a suitor for her daughter. He then and there struck the iron while it was hot.
"I do not know if I am a very good man, Mrs Bathurst," he said, still smiling, "but if you think me good enough for Peggy, I shall be more than satisfied. I have the curacy and three hundred a year. My family you know all about, and I suppose you have formed your own conclusions as to the merits of my personality. I am not likely to turn out a criminal like Pratt, you know."
"Really, Mr Raston, you take my breath away," said Mrs Bathurst, quite equal to the occasion. "I never suspected that you loved Peggy. Still, if such is the case, and she loves you, and you are prepared to insure your life in case you die unexpectedly, I do[219] not mind your marrying her. She is a dear girl and will make you an excellent wife."
"Thank you, Mrs Bathurst. Then I may see Peggy now."
"She is in the garden, Harold." Mrs Bathurst had long since informed herself of the curate's Christian22 name, so as to be prepared for an emergency of this sort. "Go to her and take with you a mother's blessing23."
Thus burdened, Raston sought out Peggy, and then and there told her that all was well. They could love one another without let or hindrance24. The engagement had been sanctioned officially by Mrs Bathurst. Peggy laughed consumedly when Raston related the pretty little comedy played by her mother. "She must think you a donkey, Harold," she said. "Mother thinks everyone is as blind as herself."
"Mrs Bathurst fancies herself very wide awake, my dear."
"Those who are particularly blind always do, Harold."
Then they began to talk of their future, of the probability of Sybil becoming the wife of Leo, and the chances of Mrs Gabriel taking the young man again to her castle. From one subject to another they passed on until Peggy made an observation about Pearl. "She is out and about, I see," said Peggy, "but she still looks thin."
"And no wonder. Her illness has been a severe one. But she will soon put on flesh and regain25 her colour. She is always wandering on the moor, and the winds there will do more to restore her to health than all the drugs in the pharmacopœia of James."
"Why does she go on the moor?" said Peggy. "I thought it was the chapel26 she was fond of sitting in."
"Ah! She has changed all that," said Raston, sadly. "It seems—I think I told you this before—that Mrs Jeal told her some horrible Calvinistic doctrine27, and poor Pearl thinks she is lost eternally. It was her idea that the cup was given into her charge, and now she believes that the Master has taken it from her because she is not good enough to be the custodian28."
"Poor girl!" said Peggy, sympathetically. "But I thought, Harold, that she believed the cup had been taken up to Heaven for the Supper of the Master?"
"She did believe that till Mrs Jeal upset her mind anew. Now she thinks she is lost, and I can't get the terrible idea out of her head. She is like a lost thing wandering about the moor. Only one cure is possible."
"What is that, Harold?"
"The cup must be restored to the altar she has built."
"An altar! Has she built one?"
"I followed her on to the moor the other day, wishing to calm her mind. Some distance away, in the centre of the heather, she has erected29 an altar of turf, and she told me that if the Master forgave her He would replace the cup which He had taken from her on that altar. She goes there every day to see if the cup has returned. If it did, I believe she would again be her old happy self."
"But there is no chance of the cup being returned."
"No," said Raston, a trifle grimly; "Pratt has got it again in his possession, and he will not let it go. Save for Pearl, I do not think it matters much. We could never again use it for the service of the chapel. A cup that has been stolen cannot be put to sacred uses."
"Do you think it was stolen?"
"I am certain of it. Everything belonging to that man was stolen. What a pity, Peggy, that such a clever fellow should use his talents for such a bad purpose."
"A great pity. I liked Mr Pratt, and even now, although he is such a wretch1, I can't help feeling sorry for him."
"So do I, Peggy. There was good in Pratt. Let us hope he will repent30. But now, darling, don't let us talk more of him. He has gone, and will never come back. What about the wedding-day?"
"Oh, Harold!" began Peggy, and blushed. After this the conversation became too personal to be reported. It is sufficient to say that the wedding-day was fixed31 for two months later.
While all these discoveries in connections with Pratt were being made in Colester, events which had to do with Sybil's advertisement had happened which prevented her keeping it any longer a secret from her father. She put off telling him till the very last moment, but when one day a London visitor arrived she was forced to speak out. A card inscribed32 with the name "Lord Kilspindie" was brought to her, and on the back of it was a pencilled note hinting that the gentleman had called about the advertisement. Sybil ordered that he should be shown into the drawing-room, and went to her father's study. The vicar was preparing his sermon, and looked up ill-pleased at the interruption.
"What is it, Sybil?" he asked. "I am busy."
"Please forgive me for interrupting you, father," she replied, coming to the desk and putting her arm round his neck, "but I have something to tell you, something to confess."
"You have been doing nothing wrong, I hope," said Tempest, suspiciously.
"I don't think it is wrong, save in one particular. That advertisement! It was I who put it into the papers."
"Sybil! And you never told me!" The vicar was annoyed. At the same time he felt relieved that it was nothing worse. He fancied that she might be about to confess that she had married Leo.
"It was no use telling you until something came of it, father," replied Sybil, calmly, "so do not be angry. Now that the whole mystery has been cleared up, the advertisement is useless. But I received one answer to it. A gentleman called Lord Kilspindie wrote to me at the post-office as 'S. T.,' asking to see me about the cup. He had something serious to say about it. I was curious—I think you would have been curious yourself, father—so I wrote, and, giving my real name and address, asked him to come down here. He is now in the drawing-room."
Tempest rose to his feet, looking vexed33. "Lord Kilspindie in the drawing-room, and I only know of the matter now. Really, Sybil, you have behaved very badly. What does he want?"
"To tell us something about the cup, I suppose," said Sybil. "Do you know Lord Kilspindie, father?"
"No more than that he is a border lord and a wealthy man. I believe he has a splendid and famous castle near the Tweed. Sybil, you should have told me."
"I am sorry, but I didn't think it was worth while until he came. You are not angry, father. I have done nothing so very bad, and it was my eagerness about Leo that made me take up the matter."
"You offered a reward of fifty pounds! How is that to be paid?"
Sybil laughed. "I don't think there will be any question of reward with Lord Kilspindie," she said. "Besides, he has not brought the cup. You know that Mr Pratt has it, and is likely to keep it. Come, father, forgive me, and let us see Lord Kilspindie. I am filled with curiosity."
"You are a wicked girl," said the vicar, indulgently, and gave her a kiss. "If you do this again—"
"I never will, father—unless Leo is again in danger."
The vicar sighed. His conscience pricked34 him about Leo, and he did not know how to act towards making amendment35. Certainly if he gave his consent to the marriage Leo would be more than repaid for the ill thoughts entertained about him. But Tempest was filled with pride of race, and could not bring himself to give his beautiful daughter to a nameless man. However, he could not consider the matter now, since his illustrious visitor was waiting in the drawing room, so with Sybil he went to greet him.
"Miss Tempest?" said Lord Kilspindie, coming forward, with a look of admiration36 at the beautiful girl before him, "and you, sir?"
Sybil allowed her father to speak, as was right and proper. "I am the vicar of this place, Lord Kilspindie," said Tempest, politely, "and this is my daughter. It was she who put the advertisement in the paper. I presume that it is to that we owe the pleasure of your company."
"That and nothing else," said Lord Kilspindie, taking the seat pointed37 out to him by the vicar. "I have been looking for that cup for over twenty years. It is not in your possession?"
"It was for a few weeks," replied the vicar, who was very curious. "I had better tell you the whole story, and then you can judge for yourself."
"If you will be so kind," replied Lord Kilspindie, courteously38.
He listened attentively39 while Mr Tempest narrated40 all the events in connection with the cup from the time Pratt had arrived in Colester. The story was a strange one, and the visitor was much interested. However, he did not offer one interruption. Sybil watched him the meanwhile.
He was a tall, grey-haired man of over sixty, but still vigorous and straight. His face was lined, however, as though he had undergone much trouble. He had a soldierly look about him, and all the time the vicar was speaking tugged41 at a long grey moustache, the only hair he wore on his face. Sybil thought of the line in the "Ancient Mariner42" about long and lean and brown as the seashore sand (she could not quite recall the quotation), but to her it described Kilspindie perfectly. He was rather sad-looking, and his quiet grey eyes looked as though he had known bitter trouble. And indeed he had. Sybil learned that later.
"A very interesting story," he said politely when Mr Tempest had finished, "but disappointing in its ending. You say this man Pratt has now the cup in his possession?"
"He confessed as much, my lord, in a letter to the detective in charge of the case. It is a pity he has escaped with it."
"A great pity," responded the other. "I suppose there is no chance of his being captured?"
"From what Mr Marton said I should think not," put in Sybil. "He says that Pratt has baffled all the cleverest detectives in England for a great number of years."
Kilspindie sighed. "No chance of getting it back," he murmured; "and the luck will still be bad."
"You will think me superstitious," he said, with a smile; "but the fact is that the cup is said to be a fairy gift, and has been in our family for generations. The luck of the family goes with the cup."
"Like the luck of Edenhall!" said Sybil, remembering Longfellow's poem.
"Precisely," responded Kilspindie. "The legend is a curious one. I must tell it to you some time. Of course my opinion is that the cup is of Roman manufacture. I recognised it from its description, and especially from the Latin motto you set down in the advertisement. I think that goblet44 was dedicated45 to Bacchus, and was probably lost by some Roman general when Scotland was invaded by the Cæsars."
All this time Mr Tempest was trying to recover from the horror of his thoughts. "A pagan cup!" he gasped46, "and a stolen cup! Oh, my lord, and it was used as a communion cup. Pratt said that he had brought it from Italy, where it was so used by the Romish Church. I thought it was sanctified by such a use, and did not hesitate to put it again on the altar. I really don't know what to say. It is like sacrilege."
"I am sorry, Mr Tempest. But the cup has been at Kilspindie Castle for five hundred years. It never was used in the service of the Church. Over twenty years ago it was stolen by a woman."
"By a woman," echoed Sybil. She had quite expected to hear Pratt's name.
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1
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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8
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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17
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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18
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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29
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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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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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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36
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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40
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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43
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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