Belle, too. Somehow, I was now able to think of her without feeling such anger as had formerly haunted me, though I can never pretend to a return of loving, sisterly interest in her. That was dead forever, but so also was my former determination to make her suffer as keenly as I had been made to suffer. Such a determination I looked upon now as unchristian and unnatural, since the object of my vengeance was my own mother’s daughter.
Better let sleeping dogs lie, I thought, since any revelations concerning the death of the late Earl of Greatlands, if they tended to substantiate my idea of willful culpability on the part of Belle and her fiancé, would be productive of great grief to many others.
Feeling anxious and unsettled, and being doubtful of the wisdom of writing home to ask for news of my people, lest my father should compel me to give up my present life of honorable independence and freedom from petty insults, I took advantage of a spare hour or two shortly after my return to London, and went to the house my father had rented in town. It was tenantless. I had not intended really going in, but I believe I should not have been able to resist trying to see Lady Elizabeth, if she had still been living here, and I felt more disappointed than I could have believed possible, since I had not really expected to see her. To go to Moorbye was out of the question just now, I thought, as I did not wish to trespass upon madame’s good nature yet awhile to the extent of neglecting my duties for a couple of days.
I was walking through the park, on my way home again, revolving the propriety of writing to ask Mrs. Garth to let me have all the news about my people, when I accidentally jostled against some one else who was evidently as preoccupied as I was. Hastily looking up, with an ejaculation of apology, I saw, looking at me with a face upon which was pictured the greatest surprise, an elderly man, in whom I recognized none other than Dennis Marvel, the former valet of my dear old earl.
“Oh, miss!” he said eagerly. “I am glad to see you. For I have that on my mind which will drive me mad, if I keep it to myself, but which I dare tell to nobody but you. I am fairly pulled to pieces with the misery of the thing. One minute something in me says, ‘Tell all you know, and let justice be done. Let not the guilty flourish while the innocent are cast aside.’ The next minute it seems as if the wickedest thing I could do was to make more trouble for them that has had enough already. Oh! miss, you will be able to help me to decide what should be done. Though you had such bitter enemies, you won’t let hatred of them lead you to be cruel to their belongings, and oh! how it will ease my mind to tell you everything. I have been to the house to inquire for you, but the servants could not tell me anything about you, except that they thought there had been a quarrel, and that Mr. Courtney had turned you out—you, who had been robbed of wealth and title! It made my blood boil to hear it; but of course I could not say what I thought, and I never hoped to come across your ladyship that was to have been like this—so lucky, after all.”
I had let the old man talk on so long without interruption, for my inward dismay had literally bereft me of the power of speech for a time. I did not even try to pretend to myself that I misunderstood Marvel’s meaning, or that I did not know exactly to what event he was alluding. At last the mystery of the earl’s death was going to be cleared up for me. My suspicions were to become proved facts, and upon my shoulders was to fall the onus of judging and sentencing the guilty. It is small wonder that I felt the blood leave my face; that my limbs trembled under me, and that I was glad to avail myself of the support of the seat near which I had come into collision with Marvel. I motioned to him to sit down also, hastily looking round, lest possible prying ears should be at hand to surprise and proclaim to the world the secret of which my companion was about to disburden himself.
“I see that you fully understand my meaning,” he said, “and I don’t need to beat about the bush much, for I always thought that you suspected foul play, by the way you looked at your sister and the young earl. Well, miss, it’s quite true. They made away with my poor old master, for they had sworn that you shouldn’t get married to him and lord it over them at the castle. Besides, they pretended to think the earl must be in his dotage, and no longer fit to be the head of the family, when he could seriously think of choosing—well, miss, not to offend you, I hope—but they said he had picked the ugliest girl he could find, and that there was no telling what crazy thing he would do next—try to cut off the entail, or something of the sort. So they laid their plans to stop the wedding, and, I swear it is true, they murdered my poor old master.”
“Stop, Marvel,” I said now, having at last recovered the power of speech. “The accusations you make are too terrible to be believed lightly. It is easy to say what your suspicions dictate. But you have no proofs of what you say, and I will not hear anything more. I loved the old earl for his goodness to me, a neglected, unattractive girl, whom very few people cared for. The present earl is his son and the brother of my dear stepmother. His fiancée is my sister, and thus both, though actually my enemies, have claims upon my forbearance. Marvel, I dare not believe them guilty. I will not believe them guilty! You shall tell me no more.”
“You must hear all I have got to say now, Miss Dora,” returned Marvel firmly. “I tell you, I must open my mind to somebody, and I reckon you are the safest. Another thing, I have to be back soon, so would like to get on with my story.”
“Are you still with the present earl?”