It was met by another question. ‘Have you not seen his confession?’
Mr. Erin pointed to the carpet on which the fragments of the document still remained. ‘It was placed in my hands,’ said he in a hoarse dry voice, ‘but I never read it.’
‘No matter; it would only have given you pain. I have seen the unhappy lad and heard the truth from his own lips.’
‘The truth!’ echoed the old man bitterly.
‘Yes, the truth at last. Here is a copy of an affidavit it is his intention to make to-morrow morning before a magistrate. There are things in it which one regrets; the tone of it is unsatisfactory. He does not seem so penetrated with the sense of his misconduct as would be becoming, but at all events he is careful to absolve everyone from complicity in his crime, and particularly yourself. “I solemnly declare,” he says, “that my father was totally unacquainted with the whole affair, believing most firmly the papers to be productions of Shakespeare.”’
The antiquary’s brow grew very dark. ‘I will never see that young man’s face if I can help it,’ he said solemnly, ‘or speak one word to him again, so help me Heaven!’
‘He does not expect it,’ answered the other quietly. ‘Henceforward he will take his own way in the world. After “expressing regret for any offence he may have given the world or any individual, trusting at the same time they will deem the whole the act of a boy without any evil intention, but hurried on by vanity and the praise of others,“ he goes on to say, “Should I attempt any other play, or work of imagination, I shall hope the public will lay aside all prejudice my conduct may have deserved, and grant me their indulgence.” I suppose, therefore, he intends to live by his pen.’
‘You mean to starve by it,’ answered the old man bitterly. The style of the composition he had just heard struck him as fustian: he had heard it before and expressed another opinion of it, but then the circumstances were different. In Art and Literature the views of most people are less affected by the work itself than by the name under which it is presented to their notice.
There was a long pause. As in a reservoir, when once its contents have begun to percolate drop by drop through the dam, the drops soon become a stream, and the stream a torrent, and the dam is swept away, so it was with Mr. Erin’s obstinacy. The dam was gone by this time, and the bitter waters of conviction rolled in upon his mind like a flood. There was no longer a dry place on it to afford a perch for the mocking-bird of incredulity.
‘When was it, Frank,’ he inquired in an altered voice, ‘when you yourself began to suspect this—this infamous deception?’