"You shall have the six hundred, curse you," said Leonard, careful to follow Dr. Peterssen's advice as to the play of expression on his features.
"A million million thanks. And now be kind enough to sign this paper binding you to the arrangement. Go into the inn, and affix your signature in a bold, clear hand. No arguments, Leonard, but do it. If you delay we shall miss the train, and I shall have to return with your brother to the enjoyments of your society."
Leonard had no choice; he went into the inn and presently reappeared with the document, which he handed to Dr. Peterssen, who examined and pocketed it.
"Farewell, old comrade, farewell," he said, with his handkerchief to his eyes. "This is a dramatic moment; deeply do I feel the parting. Adieu, till we meet in England. By the way, I have informed Father Anselm, the good priest, that I have left five hundred francs in your hands which you will give him in my name for the relief of the poor. He blessed and thanked me. He will remind you of the benediction if you need reminding, but your best plan will be to give him the money soon, with a cheerful heart. Once more, farewell. Speak well of me when I am gone."
With profound sighs and melancholy looks he wrung Leonard's hand and entered the carriage, bidding the driver to proceed gently. Leonard and a few of the villagers watched the carriage till it was out of sight, and then the remaining actor in the vile plot entered the inn, enraged at the extortion--for so he inwardly declared it to be--that Dr. Peterssen had practised upon him. But he felt that he was in this man's power, and that it was advisable to submit with as good grace as possible. What was done could not be undone, nor would he have had it undone. The future was before him with all its possibilities of pleasure; a life of ease was his when the scheme was carried out to its bitter end. Even were he willing to forego his ruthless design he had gone too far now to retract. In the event of Emilia's recovery to health, his next move was to impose upon her and reduce her to silence, and he did not doubt his ability to achieve his purpose.
There were certain official formalities to go through with respect to the fictitious death of Gerald. He testified that the body was that of his brother, and he was supported by the independent testimony of witnesses, who identified the clothes of the deceased. The official record of the death of Gerald Paget was duly made, and in a few days the funeral took place, Leonard being the chief mourner. Over the grave was placed a flat tombstone, with the inscription--"To the memory of my dear brother Gerald." Nothing more.
Throughout the whole of these proceedings Emilia lay between life and death, and consequently knew nothing of what was going on. But her ravings proved that she was at least conscious of the fatal blow her happiness had received. She called upon her dear Gerald in Heaven, and implored to be taken to him; and then, and then--stirred by the mysterious promptings of approaching maternity--she as earnestly implored to be spared for the sake of her child yet unborn. For six weeks she lay in a dangerous condition, and then youth and a sound, though delicate, constitution triumphed, and her health began to improve. Another fortnight, and she was convalescent.
Before this took place Leonard, who was sedulously employed in earning a character for charity and kindness, had succeeded in blasting her good name. The simple priest of the village was shocked at the disclosure that Emilia had no right to wear the wedding-ring on her finger.
"Alas," he said, "that one so fair should be so frail!"
"Unhappily," said Leonard with a hypocritical sigh, "it is frequently so with the fairest of women. Weak as they appear, they are strong in vice."