CHAPTER XLI.
As Chandos extended one hand to Faber and the other to Lockwood, he remarked that the cheek of the former was a good deal flushed, and his eye more bright and sparkling than usual. The bowl of strong punch on the table was nearly empty, and the deduction was evident. Lockwood's strong head and strong frame had resisted the effects of his potations; but Faber, though not at all drunk, was a good deal excited.
"Welcome, welcome back!" said Lockwood. "I was just going to write you a letter, ending after Mrs. Penelope's fashion--'Nil mihi rescribas attamen ipse veni.' You have come at the very nick of time, Chandos; for here Mr. Faber has been telling me things which prove that your father was not so unkindly negligent of you as you have supposed."
"For that, I am thankful," answered Chandos, "even if no other result take place. What is it, Faber? Let me hear."
Lockwood's eyes were fixed upon the countenance of the young man to whom Mr. Winslow spoke; and he saw the timid, hesitating look, which was its habitual expression, steal over it again. "Come, Faber, you and Chandos finish the punch between you," he said; "I have had enough."
"And so have I too," answered Faber. But he suffered Lockwood to fill his glass again, and drank it off at once. The effect was quick. He reflected, perhaps, that what he had just said he could not unsay; and at all events, the punch gave him courage to repeat it. The manner was diffuse and circumlocutory, it is true; and where there was an opportunity of putting anything in a doubtful manner, by a change in the mood of the verb, from the direct indicative to the potential, he never failed to do so; but the substance of the story was as follows.--"He had seen, read, and copied," he said, "the will, to which the memorandum found by Mr. Roberts referred. The late Sir Harry Winslow, who had ordered him to copy it, had kept the transcript; but he recollected the whole particulars. To himself, an annuity of four hundred a year had been left, chargeable upon the Winslow Abbey estate. The whole of that property, with the Abbey and all that it contained, had been left to Chandos. The Elmsly property had been assigned to his brother, as well as the whole personal property, with the exception of four thousand pounds to Lockwood, in lieu of all other claims, and a few legacies to servants."
There the young man paused; and Lockwood, after having given him a little time to proceed, if he pleased, exclaimed, "Go on, Mr. Faber; you have not half done! Remember about the burning of the will."
"I did not say he burned the will," cried Faber, turning white; "I only said he burned a good many papers just after Sir Harry's death. I saw him, as I was looking out of my window at Elmsly, which is just in the corner, near the strong-room. What they were, I do not know."
"Then he burned papers in the strong-room?" said Chandos.
"Yes, Mr. Winslow," replied Faber, "that he certainly did. Three or four, I saw him burn, with a great iron chest open before him; he held them to the candle one after the other, and then threw them down on the stone floor, and watched them till they went out. But, mind, I do not know what they were. I never said that any one of them was the will."
"Of course, you could not do so, Faber," replied Chandos; "for I know the position of the two rooms well; and you could not at that distance see what the papers were."
"No, I could not see," reiterated Faber.
"Nevertheless," said Chandos, gravely, "what you did see, and what you do know, is so important, that I must request to have it in writing."
"Oh no, indeed, I cannot, Mr. Winslow," said the young man, very pale, "Why, if Sir William Winslow were to know, what would happen? You will not ask me, I am sure."
"Be quite sure, Faber, not only that I will ask; but that I will insist," answered Chandos, with a frown. "Let me have pen and ink, Lockwood, and we will have this down at once. My good friend, you have no choice. You have made a statement this night which you will soon have to repeat in a court of justice. Now your fault, Faber, is timidity: that timidity might lead you to gloss over or attempt to conceal facts in court, which would be speedily wrung from you by cross-examination, and you would be put to shame, But by insisting upon your signing the account you have given, I guard you against yourself; for you will have no motive for hesitation or concealment. You must there state what you have here stated, without a consideration of the consequences."
"I cannot, indeed I cannot," exclaimed Faber, trembling violently.
"Faber, I insist," replied Chandos; "I did not think that you, whom I have so often befriended, so often protected, would refuse to do a simple act of justice in my favour, out of regard for a man comparatively a stranger to you. Write down his words, Lockwood, as well as you can recollect them. They shall then be read over to him, that he may sign them."
"Oh, Mr. Winslow, I did not think you would do this," cried Faber; "you know what a terrible man Sir William is."
"Write, Lockwood, write," cried Chandos, his lip slightly curling with contempt. But Faber started up from the table, saying in a more resolute tone than he had hitherto used, "It is of no use, I will not sign it, I will go."
Chandos, however, threw himself between him and the door, locked it, and took out the key. "Your pardon, Mr. Faber," he said; "you do not go. You stay here, and sign the statement you have just made, or if you go, you go in custody."
"In custody?" exclaimed the young man, his eyes staring wildly with fear.
"Yes, Sir," answered Chandos; "in custody, on a charge of being accessory to the destruction of my father's will, which, allow me to tell you, is a felony. Sir William Winslow may be a very violent man, but you will find that his brother is a very resolute one."
"Oh, Mr. Winslow, I am sure you would not do such a thing," cried Faber.
"You will see in two minutes," replied Chandos sternly. "When Lockwood has finished the paper, you shall have your choice. You either sign it, or he fetches a constable. In the mean while, sit down; for I am in no humour to be trifled with."
The young man cast himself on his chair, covering his eyes with his hand. Lockwood wrote rapidly; and in about ten minutes the short statement he drew up was finished. He then read it aloud, pausing upon each sentence; and Chandos, satisfied that it was substantially the same as the account which Faber had himself given, placed it before him, saying, "There is pen and ink."
The young man hesitated for more than a minute; and then Chandos withdrew the paper from before him, and turned to Lockwood, saying coldly, "Fetch the constable, Lockwood. I will guard him till you return."
"Stop, stop," cried Faber; "I will sign it. Only give me a little time. You should have put in, that I was accidentally looking out of my window that night."
"Put it in yourself above," answered Lockwood, handing him the pen.
Faber took it, and made the alteration he proposed; then paused and hesitated again, but in the end wrote his name rapidly at the bottom.
"And now, Faber," said Chandos, laying his hand kindly on his shoulder, "you will yourself have more peace of mind. Depend upon it, the only way to preserve a man's dignity of character, his peace, and self-respect, is to do what he knows is right, perfectly careless of consequences. You were aware that I had been wronged. You had the means of assisting me to regain my right, and that, by only making a declaration which you were bound in honour and justice to make. You should, indeed, have made it before; but I forgive your not having done so, because I know you are afraid of a man whose violence gives him anything but a claim to respect."
"Why I should gain more than lose," said the weak young man, bursting into tears; "if you could prove this other will, I should have two hundred a year more than by the other; so you must see it was not my own interest I was consulting, Mr. Winslow."
"No, you were consulting nothing but your fears, Faber," said Chandos; "and those fears of Sir William Winslow, depend upon it, are quite vain and foolish. He has no power over you; he can do nought to injure you."
"How I shall ever meet him again, when he comes hack, I know not," answered Faber, with a melancholy shake of the head.
"He Is back already," replied Chandos; "at least, I am told so."
The young man started off his chair at this announcement, actually as if some one had fired a pistol at him; but while he was gazing in Mr. Winslow's face with a look of terror almost ludicrous, some one shook the door of Lockwood's house, and Faber darted away into the inner room, as if he thought that it could be none other than the man he so much dreaded.
"Who is there?" asked Lockwood.
"It is I, Sir," answered the voice of Garbett, the keeper; and, at a sign from Chandos, Lockwood opened the door, saying, "What is it, Garbett?"
The man started at beholding Chandos Winslow, and exclaimed, "Bless me, Sir, is that you? Well, Sir, I am glad to see you, now I know who you are. Why I taught you to shoot when you were a young lad at Eton."
"I am very glad to see you," answered Chandos; "but you wanted to tell Lockwood something."
"Why, Sir, it is a night of surprises," said Garbett: "your brother, Sir William, arrived at the Abbey about an hour ago. We have been looking for Mr. Faber everywhere, and can't find him; and so he sent me down to tell Mr. Lockwood that he wants to see him."
"If he wants me, he must come down to seek me," said Lockwood, bluntly. "I want nothing with him; and therefore shall not go near him. Just tell him what I say, Garbett. He knows me well enough, and won't expect any civil messages."
While Lockwood had been giving this answer, Chandos Winslow had remained with his arms crossed upon his chest, his teeth set fast, and his lips compressed. There was a great struggle going on in his breast. The feelings of indignation which had been raised against his brother were very strong. He did not comprehend that it was vindictive pride, rather than avarice, which had made Sir William Winslow destroy his father's will--the desire of triumphing over, and trampling upon, a brother who had offended him, rather than the love of mere money; he called the transaction pitiful, as well as base; and when Garbett entered, Chandos was resolved, without pause, to expose the whole in a court of justice, at all risks. But, as the man spoke, gentler emotions arose--feelings strong, though tender. He remembered early days. He hesitated, though he did not yield. He asked himself, "Is there not a middle course?" and before the keeper could reply to Lockwood, he said aloud, "I will go up to him myself;" and he moved towards the door.
"Think twice, think twice," said Lockwood, laying his hand upon his arm.
"No; I am resolved," said Chandos, in a sad, but determined tone. "We will meet once more as brothers, before we meet as adversaries. I will forget for the time there is ought within his bosom but kindred blood, and a brother's spirit. I will entreat, I will persuade, I will argue, as a last resource before I am driven to menace and to act. I will try what reason will do, in order to escape a course, the results of which I dread to think of."
"Well," said Lockwood; "well, it is the right way; but he does not deserve it, and no good will come of it."
Chandos made no reply, but walked out into the park, and took his way, with a quick step, towards the Abbey.
"We had better go after him at once, Garbett," said Lockwood; "there is no knowing what may follow. They are both sharp spirits; and I should not wonder if there were blood shed."
"Lord, Mr. Lockwood, I hope not," cried the keeper; "but let us be after him, then; for it is as well to be near to part them in case of need."
"It might be difficult to part them," answered Lockwood; "but come along;" and taking up his hat, he accompanied the keeper into the park, leaving Faber, still trembling with apprehension, in the inner room of the cottage.