I showed the document first to my father and the vicar.
"So far, well," said the latter. "If proof were needed of a more wicked conspiracy here it is. But in the main thing we are no more forward than before, Jack. We are not helped by this writing to the mystery of the strange woman and her intervention. A strange woman, indeed; she must be—one such as described by the wise king."
"We shall find her yet. What hold can this spendthrift gamester have upon the woman—his partner in the crime? Some time or other she will be tempted to reveal the truth."
"We know not. Women are not as men. They love the most worthless as well as the most noble." Lady Anastasia had said the same thing.
"Love is like the sunshine, my son. It falls upon good and evil alike, and, like the sunshine, it may be wasted, or it may be turned to help. We must not expect to find this woman; we must not count upon her revenge or her repentance."
"We shall find her, sir, I am certain that we shall find her. The spendthrift wastes and scatters with a kind of madness. He will soon finish all, and will have nothing left for his confederates. You see what one confederate has confessed, having been betrayed by his master."
Said the vicar: "The sweet singer of Israel ceases not to proclaim the lesson that all the generations must learn and lay to heart—'I have seen,' he says, 'the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay-tree. Yet he passed away, and, lo! he was not. Yea, I sought him, and he could not be found.' Patience, therefore, let us have patience."
He fell into a meditation in which I disturbed him not. After a while he returned to the business of Sam's written confession, which he held in his hands.
"It is remarkable," he said, "how this young man, who from his boyhood was a self-deceiver, imagining himself to be somebody, endeavours to place his conduct in a light flattering to his self-deception. It is evident, abundantly, that he has been guided throughout by two motives, the one as base as the other. The first is revenge for the wholesome cudgelling which the captain bestowed upon him. It was administered, I doubt not, with judicial liberality—even erring on the side of liberality—and he left in the man's mind that longing for revenge which belongs to the weaker and the baser sort. See, he writes, 'Since Captain Crowle was resolved to marry his ward above her station, I was quite sure that he would be grateful to me for the signal service which he could in no way effect by his own efforts of raising her from her humble condition to the rank of countess.' He thus betrays himself. And as to the second motive, he says, 'A poor man has the right to better himself if he can. It is his duty. I saw a way, an unexpected and an honourable way.' Listen to the creature. 'I made the discovery that my patron, by gambling and raking, had become, as regards his affairs, nothing less than what in a merchant would be called a bankrupt. That is to say, he had spent all he had, sold all he could, raised all the money possible on his entailed estates, and but for his privilege as a peer would now be in a debtor's prison. Yet he contrived to keep his head above water—I found out how, as well—and still maintained a brave show, though, by reason of his bad character, he was not countenanced except by profligates like himself. I therefore laid open to him a way of restoring his affairs. I offered to introduce him to a great heiress. At first he did not believe that there was in any country town an heiress with the fortune that I described to him. But I gave him some proofs and I promised him more. Whereupon I made known my condition. As soon as he was married to this heiress he was to procure for me, by purchase or by influence, a post under government worth at least £200 a year, with perquisites, or perhaps a benefice, if I could procure ordination, of which I had no doubt in thinking of my learning and my character for piety.'"
"Ho!" said my father, "his learning and his piety!"