A Secret Inheritance (Volume 3 of 3)

by B. L. Farjeon

"Understand that it is Emilius, not I, who is speaking."

"I understand."

"Murderer!"

[XII.]

In pursuance of the plan I decided upon before I commenced this recital--one of the principal features of which is not to anticipate events, in order that the interest of the story should not be weakened--a gap is necessary here, which before the end is reached will be properly bridged over. All that I deem it requisite to state at this point is that within two years of the death of Lauretta's mother Gabriel Carew left Nerac, never again to set foot in the village. He came to England, bringing with him his wife and one child, named Mildred, after Lauretta's mother. As you will understand, I have only lately gathered my materials, and had no acquaintanceship whatever with Gabriel Carew and his family at the time of his return to his native country; and it may be as well to state now that there were sufficient grounds for Carew's abandonment of his design to settle permanently in Nerac. The place became more than lightly distasteful to him by reason of his falling into disfavour with the inhabitants of the village. Some kind of feeling grew silently against him, which found forcible expression in a general avoidance of his company. He strove in vain to overcome this strange antipathy, for which he could not account. Even Father Daniel took sides with his flock against Carew. What galled him most was that when he challenged those who were once his friends to state their reasons for withdrawing their friendship from him, he could elicit no satisfactory replies. Then befel an event which decided his course of action. Doctor Louis died. The loss of the good doctor's wife had suddenly aged him; the break in the happy life weighed him down, and he went to his rest contentedly, almost joyfully, to rejoin his beloved mate. Within a few weeks after his burial, Gabriel Carew shook the dust of Nerac from his feet, and departed from the pretty village with a bitter feeling in his heart towards the inhabitants. They would have been glad to demonstrate to Lauretta their affection and sorrow, but she stood by her husband, whom she devotedly loved, and with a sad and indignant persistence rejected their advances. Thus were the old ties broken, and her new life commenced in a foreign land.

Of the doings of Gabriel Carew for some years after his arrival in England I have but an imperfect record, but that is of no importance, as it has no immediate bearing upon my story. Sufficient to say that five years ago he and his wife and Mildred Carew took possession of Rosemullion, which had been long without a tenant. Great preparations were made for their taking up their residence in Rosemullion. The grounds and house were in sad dilapidation, no care having been taken of them for many years past, and a number of workmen were employed to set things in order. In an English neighbourhood such doings always excite curiosity, and when it became known that Gabriel Carew, the master of the property, was coming to reside amongst us, there was a fruitful wagging of tongues. I heard a great many things which not only surprised me, but created within me a lively interest in the gentleman who would soon be my near neighbour, my house being scarcely more than half a mile from the little estate of Rosemullion. It was some time, however, before I made the personal acquaintance of Gabriel Carew. Before that took place I found myself, vicariously, in association with him through my son, and your favourite, Reginald. I can see you in fancy, my dear Max, rubbing your hands and saying, "Ah, we are coming to the kernel at last!" Wait. You have the nut before you, but your imagination must be of a miraculous order to enable you to pronounce upon the exact nature of the fruit when the shell is removed.

Among our friends and acquaintances is a lady whose name it is not necessary to mention, who has a pleasant craze for bringing young people together through the medium of "small and early" dances. Reginald went to her hospitable house frequently on these occasions. For my own part, I am not given to these vanities, being, indeed, too old for them. Old fogeys like myself are in the way of boys and girls who are called together for an enjoyment which is their special privilege. Therefore I was content that Reginald should go alone to this lady's house.

From one of these visits he returned in an unusually excited mood. He had met and danced with a young lady who, I plainly saw, had taken his heart captive. I inquired her name. Miss Carew. To be exact, he told me her Christian name. Miss Mildred Carew. Of Rosemullion? Yes. Was she alone? No; her mother was with her--a most lovely lady, but of course not the equal of her daughter in beauty. An only child? Yes.

These were some of the questions put by me and answered by Reginald. In a very short time he had acquired an amazing amount of information respecting this young lady. He had seen nothing of her father.

He went again to the house of our hospitable friend, and again met and danced with Miss Carew, and came away more deeply than ever in love with her. My affection and my duty caused me to take quiet note of my son, whose welfare is very dear to me. With a thorough knowledge of his character, I knew that he was not in the habit of contracting light fancies. He has a very serious and earnest nature.