The boldness of his utterance found the Earl altogether unarmed. Under other circumstances he would have wrung the bell and ordered a carriage for Mr. Gavin Ord; but the whole problem was too full of perplexities for that. It may be that Lord Melbourne was fully alive both to the truths and falsehoods of his position. He had done a man a great wrong and that man's son had crossed Europe to bid him right the wrong and act justly. How easy would it all have been if Evelyn had loved this son and married him! No story then to delight a scandal-loving multitude; no fear, growing upon weak nerves, that the man who had suffered might avenge his wrong. Yes, Evelyn could save him ... and here was a stranger who forbade her to do so.
"You speak very freely," he said to Gavin presently. "I will do you the justice to believe that you also speak honestly. If Evelyn has told you anything, it will be that Count Odin is the son of one of my oldest friends."
"I have learned that from two sources," said Gavin. "Will you let me add, my lord, that you are probably speaking of a man who is dead?"
The Earl started and looked up quickly.
"Have you any knowledge of that?"
"None whatever, but I have heard of Count Odin's story."
"He is as other young men, I suppose; neither better nor worse——"
"While, for the daughter you love, you would have chosen just such a man. Is that so, my lord?"
Here was a shrewd hit, going straight to the heart of one who, for fifteen long years, had striven to shield his daughter from that which her dead mother's genius had bequeathed to her—the life and passion of the East; the nomad's craving for change and excitement; the gilt and tinsel of the theatre. Yes, truly, they had been years of self-sacrifice and of ceaseless vigil—to end in this spectre of youth reborn and of vengeance awake.
"Mr. Ord," he said, "I perceive that my story is known to you. Your judgment of me is what the world's judgment would be if half the truth were known—and, remember, it is rarely more than half a truth that the world comes to possess. I am acting, you say, not from a desire to do the best for my daughter, but to shield myself. It may be so, for men are blind enough when their own salvation is at stake. At the same time, there are reasons other than these, and such that you will hardly discover. I believe it is very necessary to Evelyn's happiness that this story shall be hushed up, for the time being at any rate. But I have made no promise to Count Odin other than those you know. If his father is still a prisoner in the mines at Yoliska, then I will do my best to obtain his liberty when I have assurances that such liberty will not be used to my disadvantage or to Evelyn's. I tell you upon my word as an Englishman that I am guiltless of such knowledge. When he fought with me in Bukharest, more than twenty years ago, I met him as a man of honor and nearly paid with my life for the folly. They now assert that my friends laid the complaint which induced the Roumanian Government to arrest him. I do not believe it to be true. Georges Odin, the records say, died in the fortress prison of Krajova nearly ten years ago. Prince Charles' Government arrested him, I admit, on the score of the duel he fought with me; but they had been trying to arrest him for many years, and that was their excuse. Of the rest I knew nothing. If he is dead——"