“It had a great deal to do with Clare,” said the Doctor. “If I tell you what my theory is, of course you will understand I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Edgar. I think he must have proposed some sort of compromise to your father to exclude you quietly——”
“To exclude—— me!” Edgar stopped him with an impatient gesture. “Dr. Somers, you speak in riddles. How could I be excluded? What compromise was possible? This is something so astounding that I must ask what it means in so many words——”
“Oh, of course it was absolute folly,” said the Doctor, with confusion. The truth was, he had taken Edgar for a fool, and it seemed to him as if anything could be said to so amiable, so good-tempered, so unsuspicious a simpleton. He paused and grew red, notwithstanding his ordinary composure and knowledge of the world. “I speak of the mad notions of a self-willed man, who thought persistence would overcome everything,” he went on, embarrassed. “Of course there was no compromise possible. You were the only son, and the undoubted heir. But, going upon some notion of his own that the Squire hated—I mean was not fond of you—— In short, Edgar, I warned you you were not to think I wanted to wound your feelings—and that Arthur Arden was the worst enemy you ever had in your life.”
“You have given me a glimpse of something worse still,” said Edgar. “You have insinuated the possibility that his enmity might have been of importance—that there was some harm possible. What could he do? What could—since you force me to speak of that—my father have done? The estates were entailed. If he could have cut me off by will, I am not so simple as to doubt that he would have done it. But being, as I am, heir of entail——”
“Yes, yes,” said Dr. Somers eagerly; “of course you are heir of entail; of course it was all nonsense; you can’t imagine for a moment—— But then there are such very curious things in law and family history. Men sometimes take an unaccountable aversion—— Did I ever tell you the story of the Agostinis, a very strange thing that excited everybody when I was at Rome?”
Edgar gave a little wave of his hand in impatience. What were the Agostinis or their story to him?
“That was almost a case in point,” said the Doctor. “There was supposed to be no heir, and the estates had gone to the daughter (of course there was no law of entail to complicate the matter), when all at once starts up a young man, who had been bred in a public hospital, and yet was proved beyond dispute to be the Duchess Agostini’s son. She was living, though her husband was dead, and could not deny it. The proof, indeed, was so strong that he won his suit, and is now the Duke, and head of one of the oldest houses in Italy. Brought up in an orphan hospital, and just as nearly shut out from all inheritance for ever—just as near——”
“But I suppose there was some explanation,” said Edgar, interested in spite of himself; “mere aversion of a father could not surely go so far as that?”
“Oh, yes, there was a reason given,” said the Doctor, more and more confused, “something about the mother—some little speck, you know, on her character: one must not inquire too closely into those family stories. But he won his suit, and now he is Duke Agostini—the hospital boy! You may imagine what a sensation it made in Rome.”
“Something about his mother,” Edgar repeated vaguely, under his breath, with eyes in which a strange light suddenly sprang up. Then he bit his lip, and restrained himself. Dr. Somers, watching closely, saw that he had made an impression much more serious than he intended. He did not, indeed, intend to make any impression. He meant only, in the wantonness of fancied power, to make an experiment, to pique Edgar’s curiosity, to give him, perhaps, a passing thrill of alarm and wonder, such as an operator might give, half in jest, to curious spectators round an electric machine; but, unfortunately, the operation had been too successful, the shock overmuch. The young man said nothing farther, but sat moody, with the cigar between his fingers, and let the Doctor talk. Dr. Somers said a great deal more, but with the sense that Edgar was not listening, and that he might as well have been a hundred miles off for any companionship there was between them. And though he had in general a very good opinion of himself, for once in his life the Doctor was abashed, and felt that he had gone too far. He tried to draw the young man’s attention to other matters—to local interests—to Lord Newmarch and his enlightened views. “I may be a Radical myself,” said the Doctor, “but I do not belong to that school of Enlightened Youth. Newmarch is very appalling to me; and if you don’t mind, Edgar, you’ll find he wants to make up to Clare too.”