On considering all that he had been told by various people, Paul concluded that either Lovel or Herne was the guilty person, but which one of the two had shot the hapless girl it was hard to say. Only the discovery of new evidence could confirm the guilt of the one and the innocence of the other. And it was with the discovery of such evidence that Paul charged himself.
From thoughts of the crime Mexton drifted into considering his disillusion with regard to the Polish violinist. At one time he had loved her for her brilliant beauty, and had thought her kind-hearted and sympathetic. But the conversation he had taken part in; the shameless way in which she confessed to blackmailing Herne; and her absolute disregard of all honour, and even common honesty, showed him what sort of woman she was. If Herne were a religious fanatic, Catinka was frenzied on the point of patriotism; and for her mission she was willing to sacrifice all who stood in the way of its fulfilment. Paul quite believed that she had not killed Milly; but, short of murder, he fancied that she was capable of all other crimes in order to accomplish her dreams of a free Poland.
"How could I have loved such a woman?" groaned Paul. "But then it was an ideal I loved, not the kind of viperish clay Catinka has proved herself to be. I dreamt of a goddess, and find a hard woman of the world. Whatever love I may have felt for her has vanished; and I am now much more attracted by the plain good sense and kindly heart of Iris than by the beauty of that impossible Pole. And, after all," added Mexton, trying to comfort himself, "even if Catinka had proved the reality of my dream, she would never have surrendered her great schemes to marry me. But Iris!--ah, if I could only induce her to love me, then, indeed, in a union with her might I hope for happiness?"
It was six o'clock when Mexton arrived at Marborough, and after dining at home he returned to his work in the office. But all the time he was compiling political articles, and chronicling the small beer of the provincial town, his thoughts were with Iris Link; and with the enthusiasm of youth he was rapidly raising an altar to his goddess. Catinka had been his Rosalind, he told himself, but Iris was his Juliet; and this modern Romeo was falling in love as quickly as his prototype of Verona. He longed for the company of Iris as a thirsty traveller for a cooling spring; and after a restless night, haunted by dreams of Iris and memories of poor dead Milly, he rode the next morning to Barnstead. Here he put up his horse at The Herne Arms, and promised himself a long day with the new goddess of his affections.
On her side, Iris had been thinking a great deal about Paul. The glance he had given her at parting had turned her thoughts in his direction, and she began to look on him in a more amiable light than she had hitherto done. Her love for Herne had completely died away since the death of Milly, and she now began to compare Mexton to the disadvantage of the squire. The conduct of the latter in regard to the discovery of the assassin of Milly had not prepossessed her in his favour; and she contrasted his lukewarm pursuit with the fiery zeal of Paul. The friend of her youth seemed noble in comparison to Herne, and Iris reproached herself for having overlooked for so long his many good qualities. In fact, she thought of Paul as much as he dreamt of her, and when she saw him at the front door of Poverty Villa she went out to meet him with a becoming blush. Paul, on his part, blushed also; and they met like lovers after a long separation. Thus out of evil had come good; and a happy marriage between two young people eminently suited to one another was likely to be the outcome of poor Milly Lester's untimely decease. So strange and unexpected are the decrees of Fate.
"I am glad to see you again, Iris," said Paul, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. "How is your step-father?"
"Very well; he is cheerful and hopeful," replied Iris. "Miss Clyde has told her story to everyone, and now all Barnstead knows that he is innocent. There is quite a revulsion in his favour; and all yesterday he was being congratulated. I should not be surprised if this false accusation brought him more patients."
"Out of evil comes good," quoth Mexton, following her into the house. "Where is Dr. Lester now?"
"He has gone out to see his patients.
"Sober, I hope?"