Colin leaned forward and put his hand on Salvatore’s arm.
“I have got to accept my illegitimacy,” he said. “And if you are sorry for me, as I think you are, you can shew it best by accepting it too. It would be infinitely painful to me when this revelation is made, as it will have to be made on my father’s death, to have you attempting to save my mother’s honour and my own, as you put it just now, by insisting that this letter bore another date. I should never have a moment’s peace if I thought a scene like that was ahead of me. In fact, I want to be assured against that, and the only way I can think of to make that safe is that when you get back to Naples to-morrow you should write me a couple of lines, saying how you feel for me in this discovery that is new to me. And then I want you to name the discovery, which is the date of my mother’s marriage. I want you to accept that date, and give me proof that you accept it.”
Colin made a gesture with his hand, as if cutting off that topic, and instantly spoke again.
“With my cousin Vittoria growing up,” he said, “you must be put to expenses which it is impossible for you to meet out of the pittance my father gives you. He wronged you and your family most terribly, and I must repair that wrong. When I get that letter of yours, Uncle Salvatore, I will send you a cheque for £500.”
Colin gave a glance at his uncle, to make sure that there was no faintest sign of dissent. There was none, and he went on:
“I see you understand me,” he said, “so let us go a step further. If my brother Raymond dies before my father, I will make that five hundred pounds an annuity to you, and I will destroy both the letter I ask you to write now, and the letter of my mother’s about which we have been talking. You will never be asked to say anything about either of them. If on the other hand my father dies first, and if I make the marriage which I expect to make, I shall have to use your letter and that letter of my mother’s. You may be asked to swear to the genuineness of the letter which I hope you will write me to-morrow, and to the recollection of my mother’s letter which will tally with it. Have another glass of this delicious French wine.”
He had no need to think what he was saying, or frame a specious case. He spoke quite simply and directly as if by some inspiration, as if he was an Æolian harp hung in the wind which whispered through the stone-pine.
“I don’t think there is need for any discussion,” he said, “though, of course, if you like to ask me any question, I will consider whether I shall answer it. But I don’t think there is need for any question, is there? You might tell me, I fancy, straight off, whether you accept or reject my proposal. If you reject it, perhaps I had better tell you that it is exceedingly unlikely that my father will give you any further assistance financially, for, as you know, I have a good deal of influence with him.
“It would not pay you to refuse, would it? And as to threatening me with making this conversation of ours public, with a view to getting money out of me, I know your gentlemanly feelings would revolt against such an idea. Besides it would be singularly unremunerative, for no one would possibly believe you. Our conversation and my proposal would strike anybody as incredible. And you are not perjuring yourself in any way; you did send me a letter of my mother’s, and you will, I hope, write me another letter to-morrow, saying that the story of my mother’s marriage is very shocking, which is indeed true. So shall it be ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ Uncle Salvatore?”
Salvatore, superstitious, like most Southern Italians, to the core, found himself making the sign of the cross below the table. Apart from the obvious material advantage of accepting Colin’s offer, he felt that some fierce compelling agency was backing Colin up. That dreadful little incident of the bat had already upset him, and now in Colin’s blue gay glance so earnestly fixed on him, he divined some manifestation of the evil eye, which assuredly it were not wise to provoke into action. And as if, in turn, Colin divined his thought, he spoke again: