[THE DISCOVERY OF THE MANUSCRIPT]
All was silent in the House of White Shadows. Strange as was the drama that was in progress within its walls it found no open expression, and to the Advocate, seated alone in his study, was about to be unfolded a record of events long buried in the past, the disclosure of which had not, up to this moment, been revealed to man. During the afternoon, the Advocate had said to Christian Almer:
"Now that I have leisure, I intend, with your permission, to devote some time to your father's works. In his day, certainly for a number of years, he was celebrated, and well known in many countries, and I have heard surprise expressed that a career which promised to shed lasting lustre upon the name you bear seemed suddenly to come to an end. Of this abrupt break in the labours of an eminent man there is no explanation--as to what led to it, and in what way it was broken off. I may chance upon the reason of a singular and complete diversion from a pursuit which he loved. It will interest me, if you will give me permission to search among his papers."
"A permission," rejoined Christian Almer, "freely accorded. Everything in the study is at your disposal. For my own part the impressions of my childhood are of such a nature as to render distasteful the records of my father's labours. But you are a student and a man of deeper observation and research than myself. You may unearth something of value. I place all my father's manuscripts at your unreserved disposal. Pray, read them if you care to do so, and use them in any way you may desire."
Thus it happened that, two hours before midnight, the Advocate, after looking through a number of manuscripts, most of them in an incomplete shape, came upon some written pages, the opening lines of which exercised upon him a powerful fascination. The only heading of these pages was, "A FAITHFUL RECORD." And it was made in the following strain:
CHAPTER II
[CHRISTIAN ALMER'S FATHER]
"It devolves upon me, Ernest Christian Almer, as a duty, to set down here, in a brief form, before I die, the record of certain events in my life which led me to the commission of a crime. Whether justifiable or not--whether this which I call a crime may be otherwise designated as an accident or as the execution of a just punishment for trust and friendship betrayed--is for others to determine.
"It is probable that no human eye will read what I am about to write until I am dead; but if it should be brought to light in my lifetime I am ready to bear the consequences of my act. The reason why I myself do nothing to assist directly in the discovery (except in so far as making this record and placing it without concealment among my manuscripts) is that I may in that way be assisting in bringing into the life of my dear son, Christian Almer, a stigma and a reproach which will be a cause of suffering to him. If it should happen that many years elapse before these lines fall into the hands of a human being, if may perhaps be for the best. What is done is done, and cannot be recalled. Even had I the power to bring the dead to life I doubt whether I should avail myself of it.
"My name is not unknown to the small world in which I live and move, and I once cherished a hope that I should succeed in making it famous. That hope is now like a flower burnt to ashes, never more to blossom. It proves the vanity of ambition upon which we pride ourselves and which we imbue with false nobility.