A Son of Mars, volume 1

by Arthur Griffiths

He did not conceal from her, however, that this would ultimately be her fate. More than once he warned her that he knew her condition, and would some day be compelled to take steps to make her secure. But he said this with no object but to prove his power, and Lady Farrington would probably have been left to pursue the curious tenour of her ways, had not her mania taken a direction which threatened to be distinctly inconvenient to Sir Rupert.

Of all the woes which Lady Farrington suffered, the keenest perhaps was remorse for her treatment of her second son. As has been said, she had looked upon him always with disfavour; Herbert never could please. Where another more tenderly cared for would have been gently corrected, he was called wilful, obstinate, perverse, and sharply chided and admonished. He it was who was always in the wrong; he it was who led the other boys into mischief. It was his fault, or said to be his, when the boat upset, or the ice broke, or the gun went off, or any mishap occurred. As he grew to man’s estate his mother’s indifference did not soften into warmer feelings. Poor Herbert failed at school and college, the obvious consequence of early neglect. He could not pass the army examination, although he longed to wear a red coat. All he could do was to roam the woods with dog and gun at Farrington, consorting with grooms and keepers, enjoying an open air life the more because he thereby escaped from the house and his mother’s sneers. But these last, although thus rarely encountered, became at length unbearable, and one fine morning Herbert was not to be found. He had gone off, leaving a note to say that pursuit or inquiry would be fruitless, as he meant to leave England for good and all; nothing should induce him to return to Farrington Hall.

The blow fell heaviest upon Lady Farrington, who felt that she had been principally to blame. Prompt search was accordingly instituted, but all to no purpose.

Some said that he had emigrated, some that he had enlisted, others that he had gone to sea. No one ever saw him in the flesh again. Only Lady Farrington, in whom the catastrophe had worked a strong revulsion of feeling, was positive that she had seen him in the spirit more than once. He had appeared to her, last of all, just after the death of Algernon, the eldest son. Nor had he appeared alone. Hand-in-hand with him was a comely fair-haired girl, with a baby in her arms. Herbert had pointed significantly to the child, and Lady Farrington interpreted the gesture to mean that he and his son were now the rightful heirs of the Farrington title and estates. This vision she tremulously described to her husband and to others, but it was treated even by Sir Algernon as a mere dream, or the hallucination of an over-wrought brain.

Nothing more would have been thought of the circumstances of Herbert’s disappearance and shadowy return, except as a great and irreparable sorrow, but for the arrival of a mysterious packet, a year or two later, which contained a lock of light curly hair—Herbert’s?—and a scrap of paper, on which was written, in Herbert’s handwriting, ‘Be kinder to my boy.’

After this, a frantic desire to discover and do justice to her injured son possessed Lady Farrington, to the exclusion of all other objects in life. The family lawyers were called in; detectives, public and private, were employed; advertisements were inserted in the agony columns of the journals with the largest circulation in the world. As substantial rewards were offered, numbers of sons were promptly forthcoming. But not one of them was the right one; nor was any information which could be relied upon obtained, neither as to whether Herbert Farrington himself was alive or dead, or whether, in the latter case, he had left any heirs. Lady Farrington endured another and a more bitter disappointment than any she had hitherto experienced in life.

It was not till long after the death of her husband and her occupation of Farrington Court, that the old theory as to the existence of a grandson was revived by her. Why or wherefore no one could understand. Had she come upon any traces of the long-lost son? Or was it merely that her mind, in its increasing weakness, worked back into old grooves? Be the cause what it might, Lady Farrington seemed at times strangely positive that she should find the missing dear one, or his representative, after all. She often hinted, darkly and mysteriously, that there was a great surprise in store for Sir Rupert. Something he little expected would assuredly come to pass when matters were properly ripe. There was no hurry. It was better to make all sure before the mine was sprung. No link in the chain must be wanting. But all would be ready ere long. Then let Sir Rupert look to himself.

All this gave the baronet, who was really the man in possession, but little uneasiness. As the next heir, he had heard long ago of the eager inquiries for the missing Herbert; and although he had resented them then, he had accepted their impotent conclusion as an unanswerable proof that his presumptive rights were not to be impugned. On the death of Sir Algernon his title had not been disputed, and he had succeeded, as a matter of course. Lady Farrington had made no protest. There was no shadow of foundation for a protest. And if not then, would any person in his sober senses think of disputing his rights now, when he had a firm grip of the title, property, and place? Only an old mad woman would harbour such an idea. Even she would hardly dare to raise the question openly, after such a lapse of years. And who would believe her if she did?

He told her so, very roughly, when her allusions became more and more significant. He warned her too that ‘she had better be careful what she said or did. It was a fact well known to the whole country-side that she was quite unable to take care of herself, that she was not responsible for her actions, that her proper place was an asylum, and she might come to that yet if—’