Cyril stood by her side, reading the letter across her shoulder. He put his arm round her to hold her up, and she leaned against him trembling, hardly able to stand.
‘My Poor Child,—When you open this letter you will be fatherless—a little loss, for I have never been a father to you in anything save the name. For the last ten years I have been a miserable man, too miserable to care for my own flesh and blood, all that was good in me turned to evil.
‘I loved your mother as women are not often loved, with an intense and concentrated affection that goes hand in hand with intense jealousy. I do not think it is possible for a man to love as I loved, and endure the knowledge that his love was unrequited, without having his nature perverted. My unrequited love engendered suspicion, evil thoughts, hatred of myself and the thing I loved.
‘By a series of fatalities, which I need not set forth here, I was led to believe your mother false and unworthy—a degraded woman—a disgrace to you as she was a dishonour to me. To-night I learn that she was innocent—that her only sin against me was a sin of my own creation. She might have loved me, as the years went on, had I shown myself worthy of her love by trusting her truth and honour. My jealousy made her life miserable, and my groundless suspicion drove her from me, to die alone, friendless, hidden in an Italian convent.
‘Knowing what I know, knowing how happiness—the purest and deepest—was within my reach, and that I let it go, knowing that the bitterest miseries of my life were engendered in my own perverted mind, knowing that I made the misery of the being I fondly loved—I feel that I can no longer support the burden of a life without hope. Every chain must wear out in time. Mine was worn to attenuation before to-night—this last blow snaps it. To-morrow, when the world wakes to its petty round of cares and joys, my troubles will be over. You will find me as calm as if my life had been all peace. Saint and sinner are equal in death.
‘God bless you, poor child. May He be kinder to you than your earthly father has been. Love I could not give you—but the wealth which is mine to bestow I give you freely. Take warning from my miserable fate, and do not marry without the certainty that you are beloved. Your fortune will mark you out as a prey for every adventurer.
‘Should there be an inquiry about my death you can show this letter to the coroner. Should things pass, as, for your sake, I hope they may, without comment, let these last words of mine be sacred, the one only confidence I have ever given to my only child.
‘Enclosed you will find a statement from the principal of the convent where your ill-used mother spent her last days. It may please you some day to visit her grave in that lonely spot, and to weep there for the injuries my love inflicted on her, as I have wept for her this night, tears of blood, wrung from a heart tortured by vain remorse.
‘Your erring, unhappy father,
‘Christian Harefield.’
‘Do you believe now that I did not murder my father?’ cried Beatrix, turning to Cyril, with eyes that flashed indignant scorn through her tears.
‘I never believed otherwise, after we met face to face in the churchyard. I needed but to see you to know that you were innocent, and pure, and true. My suspicion was a monster of my own growth—the offspring of too much thought—and the fear that in winning your love I should seem a worshipper of mammon. Beatrix, I have been weak and despicable in this matter. My love should have been strong enough to withstand even a harder trial. I confess myself unworthy of your forgiveness, and yet I ask you to forgive me.’
‘Forgive you!’ she said, that changeful face of hers melting from scorn to tenderness. ‘There is no moment of the past in which you were not forgiven. I was too ready to make excuses for you. I had no womanly pride, where you were concerned. It was only when I was made to believe that you had never cared for me—that from the first you had liked Bella Scratchell better than me—it was only then that I was weak enough to listen to Kenrick’s pleading. I thought it mattered so little what became of me, that I might as well give way. And then, when the time for our marriage drew near, I knew that I was going to commit a great sin, and I began to look for some way of escape. I only waited to arrange the release of Kenrick’s estate. I had made up my mind to run away before I saw you in the churchyard. You might have spared me some of your bitter speeches.’
‘Forgive me, beloved, forgive me.’
His arm was round her, her head lying on his breast, his lips bent down to hers, unreproved. There was no need of many words between them. Both knew that this chance meeting on the hill-top above the brightening sea meant eternal reunion. Who should part them now—these twin souls that had been parted and buffeted by the billows of fate, and had drifted together again at last? They clung to each other in a silent rapture, knowing that their hour of happiness had come.
‘I have never been angry with you,’ she faltered at last. ‘Fate has seemed unkind, not you. I have always believed you good, and true, and noble—even when you renounced me. Even when I thought that you had cared for Bella——’
‘Who could have told you that utter falsehood?’
‘It was Bella herself who hinted——’