THE BISHOP'S SECRET by FERGUS HUME - Chapter 28
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Kapitel 28 - Gabriels Rückkehr
"Meine liebe Daisy, es tut mir leid, dass du gehst, da es mir eine große Freude war, dich in meinem Haus zu haben. Ich hoffe, du wirst mich nächstes Jahr wieder besuchen, und dann hast du vielleicht mehr Glück.
Mrs. Pansey hielt Mrs. Norsham auf dem Bahnsteig des Beorminsters Bahnhofs diese freundliche, kleine Rede - die trotzdem, wie ein Skorpion, einen Stachel in seinem Schwanz hatte. Nach einem Aufenthalt von zwei Monaten reiste die Stadtmaus so ab, wie sie gekommen war, als alleinstehende, junge Frau; und Mrs. Panseys letzte Bemerkung sollte sie an ihr Versagen erinnern. Daisy hatte das schnell begriffen, aber verärgert über die Stichelei, entschied sie sich, es anders und in einem freundlicheren Sinn zu verstehen, um ihre boshafte Freundin zu verdutzen.
"Glücklich! Oh, liebe Mrs. Pansey, ich bin diesmal sehr glücklich gewesen. Wirklich, Sie sind sehr freundlich gewesen; Sie haben mir alles, was ich wollte, gegeben.
"Außer einem Ehemann, meine Liebe", antwortete die Witwe des Erzdiakons, entschlossen, dass es diesmal kein Missverständnis sein sollte.
Ah! Es stand nicht in Ihrer Macht, mir einen Ehemann zu vermitteln", murmelte Daisy und verzog das Gesicht.
"Ganz richtig, meine Liebe, genau wie es nicht in deiner Macht stand , einen für dich selbst zu gewinnen." Dennoch tut es mir leid, dass Dr. Alder keinen Antrag gemacht hat.
"Freilich!" Daisy warf ihren Kopf zurück. "Sicherlich hätte ich ihn abgewiesen, wenn er es getan hätte. Eine Frau darf nicht ihren Großvater heiraten."
Eine Frau darf es nicht, aber eine Frau würde es, anstatt unverheiratet zu bleiben', schnappte Frau Pansey mit erheblicher Boshaftigkeit.
Miss Norsham tupfte vorsichtig eine Ecke eines albernen, kleinen Taschentuchs in ein Auge. "Oh je, ich finde es gehässig von Ihnen, so mit mir zu sprechen", sagte sie weinerlich. "Sie müssen nicht denken, so wie es alle Männer tun, dass jede Frau heiraten will. Ich bin mir sicher, dass ich das nicht tue."
Die alte Dame lächelte erbittert über diese entsetzliche Lüge, doch in dem Glauben, dass sie ein wenig hart zu ihrem abreisenden Gast gewesen war, beeilte sie sich, sich zu entschuldigen. "Ich bin sicher, dass Sie das nicht tun, meine Liebe, und es ist sehr vernünftig von Ihnen, das zu sagen. Wenn ich meine eigenen Erfahrungen mit dem Erzdiakon berücksichtige, sollte ich sicherlich niemandem raten, zu heiraten."
"Sie sind weise im Nachhinein", murmelte Daisy mit einigem Groll, "aber hier ist mein Zug, Mrs. Pansey, danke!" und sie glitt in ein Erste-Klasse-Abteil, ausgesprochen verärgert und sehr trotzig aussehend. Bei der Ehemannjagd zu scheitern war schlimm genug, aber für den Misserfolg verspottet zu werden, war unerträglich. Daisy fragte sich nicht länger, warum Mrs. Pansey in Beorminster gehasst wurde. Ihre eigenen Gefühle in diesem Moment drängten sie, die gute Dame unter die Räder der Lokomotive zu stoßen.
"So, meine Liebe, ich werde 'auf Wiedersehen' sagen", sagte Mrs. Pansey und verzog ihr grimmiges Gesicht zu einem liebenswürdigen Lächeln. "Versichere deine Mutter meiner Liebe, Teure", und die beiden küssten sich mit dieser Zurschaustellung von Zuneigung, die zwischen zwei Damen vorkommt, die einander nicht mögen.
"Entsetzliche alte Katze!" sagte Daisy zu sich selbst, als sie ihr Taschentuch aus dem nun fahrenden Zug schwenkte.
"Du liebe Zeit! Wie ich dieses Mädchen ablehne", monologisierte Mrs. Pansey und schüttelte ihre Handtasche zur abreisenden Daisy. "Nun! gut, niemand kann sagen, dass ich ihr gegenüber nicht meine Pflicht getan habe", und sehr zufrieden mit sich selbst stolzierte die anständige Dame majestätisch aus dem Bahnhof, auf der Lauer, irgendeine ihrer Freundinnen, die in der Nähe sein könnten, begierig aufzugreifen und zu quälen. Für seine Sünden sandte die Vorsehung Gabriel in ihre Fänge und Mrs. Pansey war bei dem Anblick, wie er aus dem Bahnhof kam, vor Erstaunen wie gelähmt.
"Mr. Pendle!" sagte sie und stellte sich ihm direkt in den Weg, " Ich dachte, Sie wären in Nauheim. Was ist los? Ist Ihre Mutter krank? Kommt sie zurück? Sind Sie in Schwierigkeiten?"
Gabriel konnte nicht alles beantworten oder so unmittelbar nur eine dieser Fragen, da das plötzliche Erscheinen und der Vortrag von Beorminsters Wichtigtuerin ihn überrumpelt hatte. Er sah verstört und weiß aus, und es befanden sich dunkle Ringe unter seinen Augen, als ob er unter Schlafmangel litt. Sicher, die Reise von Nauheim könnte sein erschöpftes Aussehen erklären und hätte dies auch bei jedem, der weniger argwöhnisch ist, als Mrs. Pansey, getan; aber diese gute Frau witterte ein Geheimnis und verlangte eine Erklärung. Diese verweigerte Gabriel, mit weniger als seiner üblichen Liebenswürdigkeit, zu geben. Um ihrer Phantasie jedoch etwas Futter zu geben, beantwortete er ihre Fragen kategorisch.
"Ich bin gerade von Nauheim zurückgekommen, Mrs. Pansey", sagte er hastig. "Soweit ich weiß, alles in bester Ordnung. Meiner Mutter geht es viel besser und profitiert durch die Bäder sehr. Sie wird innerhalb des Monats zurückkommen, und ich bin nicht in Schwierigkeiten. Gibt es noch etwas, was Sie zu wissen wünschen?
"Ja, Mr. Pendle, das gibt es", sagte Mrs. Pansey, in keiner Weise verlegen. "Warum schauen Sie so krank aus?"
„Ich bin nicht krank, aber ich hatte eine lange Überfahrt, eine ermüdende Bahnfahrt, und mir ist heiß, ich fühle mich schmutzig und ausgelaugt. Natürlich sehe ich unter diesen Umständen nicht blendend aus.“
„Hm! Reisen ins Ausland tun Ihnen nicht besonders gut.
Gabriel verneigte sich und wandte sich ab, um den Gepäckträger anzuweisen, seinen Handkoffer in einen Einspänner zu legen. Durch sein Schweigen beleidigt, schüttelte Mrs. Pansey ihre Röcke aus und schleuderte ihre schwarzen Federn. "Sie haben keine französische Höflichkeit mitgebracht, junger Mann", sagte Mrs. Pansey scharf.
"Ich bin in Deutschland gewesen", gab Gabriel zurück, als ob diese Tatsache für seinen Mangel an Liebenswürdigkeit von Bedeutung war. "Auf Wiedersehen für heute, Mrs. Pansey; ich werde mich für meine Unzulänglichkeiten entschuldigen, sobald ich mich von meiner Reise erhole."
"Oh, wollen Sie das, ja?" knurrte die Witwe des Erzdiakons, als Gabriel seinen Hut lüftete und abfuhr; Sie werden mehr tun, als sich zu entschuldigen, junger Mann, Sie sind eine Erklärung schuldig. Ei! ei! sieh da! :-)
Ihre Neugier wäre befriedigt worden, wenn sie eine Stunde später in Dr. Grahams Behandlungsraum gewesen wäre; weil Gabriel, nachdem er sich in seiner Unterkunft gebadet und die Kleidung ausgebürstet hatte, dem kleinen Doktor einen umgehenden Besuch abstattete. Graham war zufällig zu Hause, da er noch nicht zu seiner professionellen Visitenrunde aufgebrochen war und er war genauso überrascht, wie Mrs. Pansey, als der Vikar erschien. Genau wie Mrs. Pansey war er über das erschöpfte Aussehen des jungen Mannes entsetzt.
"Was! Gabriel"; rief er, als der Vikar eintrat," das ist ein unerwartetes Vergnügen. Du siehst krank aus, Junge!"
"Ich bin krank", erwiderte Gabriel und ließ sich mit einer Miene der Erschöpfung in einen Stuhl fallen. "Ich fühle mich sehr besorgt und bin gekommen, um Sie um Rat zu fragen.
"Sehr erfreut, dir einen zu geben, mein Junge, aber warum suchst du nicht beim Bischof Rat?"
"Mein Vater ist der letzte Mann in der Welt, den ich um Rat fragen würde, Doktor."
"Das ist eine seltsame Rede, Gabriel", sagte Graham mit einem scharfen Blick.
"Es ist die Einleitung zu einer seltsameren Geschichte! Ich bin gekommen, um Sie ins Vertrauen zu ziehen, weil Sie mich mein ganzes Leben kennen, Doktor, und weil Sie der engste Freund sind, den mein Vater hat."
" Hattest du Schwierigkeiten?"
"Nein. Meine Geschichte betrifft meinen Vater mehr als mich.
"Betrifft deinen Vater!" wiederholte der Doktor mit einer plötzlichen Erinnerung an das Geheimnis des Bischofs. "Bist du sicher, dass ich die richtige Person bin, um um Rat zu bitten?"
"Da bin ich sicher. Ich weiß- ich weiß- nun, was ich weiß, ist etwas, worüber ich nicht den Mut habe, mit meinem Vater zu sprechen. Um Gottes Willen, Doktor, lassen Sie mich Ihnen meinen Verdacht erzählen und Ihren Rat hören."
"Deinen Verdacht!" sagte Graham und sprang von seinem Stuhl auf, mit einem Frösteln in seinem Blut . "Über-über- diesen-diesen Mord?"
"Gott bewahre, Doktor. Nein! nicht über den Mord, aber über den Mann, der ermordet wurde.
"Jentham?"
"Ja, über den Mann, der sich selbst Jentham nennt. Sind Sie sicher, dass wir hier ganz privat sind, Doktor?"
Graham nickte und ging zur Tür und drehte den Schlüssel um. Dann kam er an seinen Platz zurück und seine Augen fixierten das verstörte Gesicht des jungen Mannes. "Weiß dein Vater, dass du zurück bist?" fragte er.
Niemand weiß, dass ich hier bin, außer Mrs.Pansey "
"Dann wird es nicht lange ein Geheimnis bleiben", sagte Graham trocken, "diese alte Elster ist so gut wie ein Stadtausrufer. "Du hast deine Mutter gesund zurückgelassen?"
" Recht gesund; und Lucy auch." Ich redete mich heraus, um zurückzukommen.
"Dann wissen deine Mutter und deine Schwester nicht, was du mir erzählen willst?"
Gabriel machte eine Geste des Entsetzens. "Gott bewahre!" sagte er wieder, schlug dann seine Hände über sein weißes Gesicht und fiel in eine halbhysterische Sprache. "Oh, der ganze Schrecken, der ganze Schrecken !" klagte er. "Wenn das, was ich weiß, wahr ist, dann sind unsere Leben alle ruiniert."
"Ist es so furchtbar, mein Junge?"
"So schrecklich, dass ich nicht wage, meinen Vater zu fragen! Ich muss es Ihnen erzählen, da nur Sie uns beraten und uns allen helfen können. Doktor!" Doktor! Der bloße Gedanke daran macht mich verrückt - in der Tat, ich fühle mich schon halbverrückt."
"Du bist erschöpft, Gabriel. Warten Sie einen Moment."
Der Doktor sah, dass die Nerven seines Besuchers überfordert waren und dass er wahrscheinlich einen Nervenzusammenbruch bekäme, es sei denn die Anspannung ließe nach. Der arme junge Mann, von einer schwachen Mutter geboren, war extrem neurotisch und hatte einen weiblichen Zug in sich, der ihn unfähig machte, sich Ärger oder Sorge zu stellen. Noch während er dort saß, zitternd und mit weißem Gesicht, kam der Nervenansturm und quälte, verdrehte und peinigte jede Faser seines Wesens, bis ihm ein Tränenausbruch Erleichterung brachte, und er, fast einer Ohnmacht nahe, schlaff auf seinem Stuhl saß. Graham mischte ihm eine starke Dosis Baldrian, fühlte seinen Puls und brachte ihn dazu, sich hinzulegen. Er verdunkelte auch das Zimmer und legte ein nasses Taschentuch auf die Stirn des Kaplans. Gabriel schloss seine Augen und lag auf der Couch so ruhig wie ein Leichnam, während der Doktor, der wusste, was er erlitt, ihn mit unendlichem Mitleid beobachtete.
"Armer Junge!" murmelte er und hielt Gabriels Hand mit festem, warmen Griff. "Die Natur ist wirklich eine rauhe Stiefmutter für dich. Mit deinen Nerven sind die Nadelstiche des Lebens Dolchstöße. Geht es dir jetzt besser?", fragte er, als Gabriel seine Augen mit einem schwachen Seufzen öffnete. "Viel besser und gefasster", erwiderte der fahle Vikar und setzte sich auf. "Sie haben mir eine magische Droge gegeben."
"Du kannst es so nennen. Diese spezielle Zubereitung von Baldrian ist für die Nerven Göttertrank. Aber du bist noch nicht wieder vollkommen hergestellt; die Wogen bleiben bekanntlich nach dem Sturm. Warum deine Geschichte nicht verschieben?"
"Ich kann nicht! Ich traue mich nicht!", sagte Gabriel ernsthaft. "Ich muss meine Seele dadurch erleichtern, dass ich es Ihnen erzähle. Doktor, wissen Sie, dass der Besucher, der meinen Vater in der Nacht des Empfangs krank machte, Jentham war?"
"Nein, mein Junge, das wusste ich nicht. Wer hat es dir gesagt?"
"John, unser alter Dienstbote, der ihn eingelassen hatte. Er erzählte mir von Jentham, gerade bevor ich nach Nauheim fuhr."
"Hatte Jentham seinen Namen genannt?
"Nein, aber John hat, wie viele andere Leute, den Leichnam in der Leichenhalle gesehen. Er erkannte Jentham dort an seinem zigeunerhaften Aussehen und der Narbe in seinem Gesicht. Nun ja, Doktor, ich fragte mich, was der Mann gesagt haben konnte, um den Bischof so aufzubringen, aber natürlich traute ich mich nicht ihn zu fragen. Als ich in Deutschland ankam, geriet mir der Vorfall in Vergessenheit."
"Und was hat es wieder in Erinnerung gerufen?"
"Etwas, das meine Mutter sagte. Wir waren im Kurgarten und hörten einer Kapelle zu, als ein Heidelberger Student mit einem völlig aufgeschlitzten und vernarbten Gesicht an uns vorbeiging.
"Ich weiß; die Studenten in Deutschland sind stolz auf diese Schmisse." Nun, Gabriel, was dann?
Der Kaplan zitterte am ganzen Körper und anstatt einer sofortigen Antwort fragte er, was eine irrelevante Frage zu sein schien. "Wussten Sie, dass meine Mutter eine Witwe war, als mein Vater sie heiratete?" fragte er im leisen Tonfall nach.
"Natürlich tat ich das", antwortete Graham heiter. "Damals praktizierte ich in Marylebone und dein Vater war Vikar von St. Benedict. Warum, ich war auf seiner Hochzeit, Gabriel, und deine Mutter schaute sehr hübsch aus. Sie war eine Mrs. Krant, deren Ehemann, während er als Freiwilliger im französisch-preußischen Krieg diente, getötet wurde!"
"Haben Sie jemals ihren Ehemann gesehen?"
"Nein, sie kam erst nach Marylbone, als er sie verlassen hatte. Der Gauner verließ das arme, junge Ding und ging ins Ausland, um zu kämpfen. Aber warum stellst du alle diese Fragen? Sie können nicht anders als schmerzhaft sein.
" Da der Anblick dieses Studentengesichts meine Mutter an ihren ersten Ehemann erinnerte. Sie sagte, dass Krant eine lange Narbe auf der rechten Wange hätte. Ich dachte sofort an Jentham.
"Guter Gott!" rief Graham und stieß seinen Stuhl zurück. "Was meinst du, Junge?"
"Warte! Warte!" sagte Gabriel fieberhaft. "Ich bat meine Mutter, das Aussehen ihres ersten Mannes zu beschreiben. Den Grund für meine Frage nicht ahnend, tat sie es. Krant, sagte sie, war groß, schlank, dunkelhäutig und schwarzäugig, mit einer Narbe, die vom Ohr bis zum Mund verlief, auf der rechten Seite. Doktor!" rief Gabriel und packte Grahams Hand, "das ist genau das Portrait des Mannes Jentham.
"Gabriel!" flüsterte der kleine Doktor heiser, "willst du damit sagen -."
"Ich will damit sagen, dass Krant nicht starb, dass Jentham Krant ist und dass, als er meinen Vater besuchte, er wie als einer von den Toten erschien. Er ist nun tot, aber er lebte, als meine Mutter die Frau meines Vaters wurde.
"Unmöglich! Unmöglich!" wiederholte Graham, der aschfahl war und seine normale Selbstkontrolle verloren hatte. "Krant starb - starb bei Sedan. Dein Vater ging hin und sah sein Grab!
"Er sah allerdings nicht den Leichnam. Ich sage Ihnen, ich habe recht, Doktor. Krant starb nicht. Meine Mutter ist nicht die Frau meines Vaters, und wir-wir- George, Lucy und ich, sind in den Augen des Gesetzes - Niemandskinder." Der Vikar äußerte diese letzten Worte fast in einem Schreien und fiel zurück auf die Couch, sein Gesicht mit zwei zitternden Händen bedeckend.
Graham saß vor ihm und starrte ihn direkt an, mit einem Ausdruck von völligem Grauen auf seinem ausgedörrten, braunen Gesicht. Er erinnerte sich an Pendles plötzliche Krankheit, nachdem Jentham diesen verhängnisvollen Besuch abgestattet hatte; seine Weigerung, den wahren Grund seines Anfalls zuzugeben; sein Geständnis, dass er ein Geheimnis hatte, welches er nicht einmal seinem ältesten Freund zu verraten wage und seine merkwürdige Handlung, seine Frau und Tochter nach Nauheim fortzuschicken. All diese Dinge gaben Gabriels Vermutung, das Jentham der vom Tod auferstandene Krant war, Farbe; aber im Grunde genommen war es bloß eine Vermutung und ganz unbestätigt durch Tatsachen.
"Es gibt keinen Beweis dafür", sagte Graham heiser, "keinen Beweis."
"Fragen Sie meinen Vater nach einem Beweis", murmelte Gabriel. "Ich wage es nicht!"
Der Doktor konnte diese Rede sehr gut nachvollziehen und erkannte nun den Grund, warum sich Gabriel entschieden hatte, eher mit ihm zu sprechen als mit dem Bischof. Sie könnten am Ende doch wahr sein, all diese beängstigenden Umstände, dachte er und wie in einem Blitzlicht sah er Ruin, Unglück, Schande, Schrecken im Zuge des Bekanntwerdens folgen. Dies war dann das Geheimnis des Bischofs und Graham entschied auf seine schnelle Art, dass es um jeden Preis bewahrt werden musste, wenn auch nur um Mrs. Pendle und ihrer Kindern willen. Der erste Schritt zum Erreichen dieses Ziels war es, den Bischof aufzusuchen und Bestätigung oder Verneinung aus seinem eigenen Mund zu hören. Graham bildete sich ein, dass er seinem unglücklichen Freund nach Kenntnis aller Gegebenheiten auf irgendeine Weise- im Augenblick wusste er nicht, wie- helfen könnte. Mit typischer Schnelligkeit entschied er sofort, wie er handeln wollte.
"Gabriel", sagte er und beugte sich über den unglückseligen, jungen Mann," ich werden deinen Vater deswegen sofort aufsuchen. Ich kann nicht, ich wage nicht zu glauben, dass es wahr ist, bis er persönlich die Gleichheit von Krant mit Jentham bestätigt. Du wartest hier, bis ich zurückkomme und schlaf, falls du kannst."
"Schlafen!" brummte Gabriel. "Oh Gott! Werde ich jemals wieder schlafen?"
"Mein Freund", sagte der kleine Doktor ernst, "du hast nicht das Recht, an der Ehre deines Vaters zu zweifeln, bis du hörst, was er zu sagen hat. Es ist möglich, dass Jentham nicht Krant ist, so wie du befürchtest. Es könnte eine zufällige Ähnlichkeit - eine - ."
Gabriel schüttelte seinen Kopf. "Sie können nicht wegargumentieren, was ich als wahr kenne", murmelte er und schaute auf den Boden mit trockenen, wilden Augen. "Besuchen Sie meinen Vater und erzählen Sie ihm, was ich Ihnen erzählt habe. Er wird nicht fähig sein, seine Schande zu bestreiten und die Schmach seiner Kinder."
"Das werden wir sehen", sagte Graham mit einer Heiterkeit, von der er weit entfernt war, sie zu fühlen. "Ich werde ihn sofort aufsuchen. Gabriel, mein Junge, hoffe das Beste!
Wieder schüttelte der Vikar den Kopf und mit einem Stöhnen warf er sich mit dem Gesicht zur Wand auf die Couch. Da er sah, dass Worte hier nichts nutzten, warf der Doktor einen mitleidigen Blick auf die ausgestreckte Gestalt und verließ mit einem Seufzer den Raum.
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For more info, please see "discussion tab" by clicking on the title of this chapter.
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CHAPTER XXVIII - THE RETURN OF GABRIEL.
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I hope you will visit me again next year, and then you may be more fortunate.
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'Fortunate!
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Oh, dear Mrs Pansey, I have been very fortunate this time.
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Really, you have been most kind; you have given me everything I wanted.
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'Ah!
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it was out of your power to give me a husband,' murmured Daisy, wincing.
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'Quite true, my dear; just as it was out of your power to gain one for yourself.
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Still, I am sorry that Dr Alder did not propose.
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'Indeed!'
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Daisy tossed her head.
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'I should certainly have refused him had he done so.
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A woman may not marry her grandfather.
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Miss Norsham carefully inserted a corner of a foolish little handkerchief into one eye.
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'Oh, dear, I do call it nasty of you to speak to me so,' said she, tearfully.
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'You needn't think, like all men do, that every woman wants to be married.
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I'm sure I don't.
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'I'm sure you don't, dear, and very sensible it is of you to say so.
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Judging from my own experience with the archdeacon, I should certainly advise no one to marry.
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and she slipped into a first-class carriage, looking decidedly cross and very defiant.
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To fail in husband-hunting was bad enough, but to be taunted with the failure was unbearable.
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'Well, dear, I'll say good-bye,' said Mrs Pansey, screwing her grim face into an amiable smile.
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'Horrid old cat!'
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said Daisy to herself, as she waved her handkerchief from the now moving train.
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'Dear me!
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how I dislike that girl,' soliloquised Mrs Pansey, shaking her reticule at the departing Daisy.
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'Well!
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well!
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'Mr Pendle!'
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she said, placing herself directly in his way, 'I thought you were at Nauheim.
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What is wrong?
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Is your mother ill?
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Is she coming back?
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Are you in trouble?
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This, Gabriel, with less than his usual courtesy, declined to furnish.
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However, to give her some food for her mind, he answered her questions categorically.
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'I have just returned from Nauheim, Mrs Pansey,' he said hurriedly.
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'There is nothing wrong, so far as I am aware.
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My mother is much better, and is benefiting greatly by the baths.
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She is coming back within the month, and I am not in trouble.
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Is there anything else you wish to know?
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'Yes, Mr Pendle, there is,' said Mrs Pansey, in no wise abashed.
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'Why do you look so ill?
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Naturally, under the circumstances, I don't look the picture of health.
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'Humph!
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trips abroad don't do you much good.
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Gabriel bowed, and turned away to direct the porter to place his portmanteau in a fly.
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Offended by his silence, Mrs Pansey shook out her skirts and tossed her sable plumes.
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'You have not brought back French politeness, young man,' said Mrs Pansey, acridly.
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'I have been in Germany,' retorted Gabriel, as though that fact accounted for his lack of courtesy.
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unit 69
'Oh, you will, will you?'
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unit 71
Hoity-toity!
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unit 75
Also, like Mrs Pansey, he was struck by the young man's worn looks.
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'What!
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Gabriel,' he cried, when the curate entered, 'this is an unexpected pleasure.
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unit 78
You look ill, lad!
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'I am ill,' replied Gabriel, dropping into a chair with an air of fatigue.
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'I feel very much worried, and I have come to ask for your advice.
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'Very pleased to give it to you, my boy, but why not consult the bishop?
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'My father is the last man in the world I would consult, doctor.
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unit 83
'That is a strange speech, Gabriel,' said Graham, with a keen look.
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unit 84
'It is the prelude to a stranger story!
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unit 86
'Have you been getting into trouble?
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'No.
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My story concerns my father more than it does me.
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'Concerns your father!'
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repeated the doctor, with a sudden recollection of the bishop's secret.
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'Are you sure that I am the proper person to consult?
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'I am certain of it.
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unit 94
For God's sake, doctor, let me tell you my suspicions and hear your advice.
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unit 95
'Your suspicions!'
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unit 96
said Graham, starting from his chair, with a chill in his blood.
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unit 97
'About—about—that—that murder?
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'God forbid, doctor.
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No!
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not about the murder, but about the man who was murdered.
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unit 101
'Jentham?
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unit 102
'Yes, about the man who called himself Jentham.
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unit 103
Are you sure we are quite private here, doctor?
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Graham nodded, and walking to the door turned the key.
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Then he came back to his seat and fixed his eyes on the perturbed face of the young man.
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unit 106
'Does your father know that you are back?'
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unit 107
he asked.
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unit 108
'No one knows that I am here save Mrs Pansey.
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unit 109
'Then it won't be a secret long,' said Graham, drily; 'that old magpie is as good as the town-crier.
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unit 110
You left your mother well?
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'Quite well; and Lucy also.
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I made an excuse to come back.
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'Then your mother and sister do not know what you are about to tell me?
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Gabriel made a gesture of horror.
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'God forbid!'
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said he again, then clasped his hands over his white face and burst into half hysterical speech.
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'Oh, the horror of it, the horror of it!'
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he wailed.
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'If what I know is true, then all our lives are ruined.
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'Is it so very terrible, my boy?
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'So terrible that I dare not question my father!
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I must tell you, for only you can advise and help us all.
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Doctor!
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doctor!
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the very thought drives me mad—indeed, I feel half mad already.
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'You are worn out, Gabriel.
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Wait one moment.
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Graham mixed him a strong dose of valerian, felt his pulse, and made him lie down on the sofa.
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Also, he darkened the room, and placed a wet handkerchief on the curate's forehead.
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'Poor lad!'
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he murmured, holding Gabriel's hand in his firm, warm clasp.
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'Nature is indeed a harsh stepmother to you.
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With your nerves, the pin-prickles of life are so many dagger-thrusts.
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Do you feel better now?'
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unit 139
he asked, as Gabriel opened his eyes with a languid sigh.
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'Much better and more composed,' replied the wan curate, sitting up.
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'You have given me a magical drug.
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'You may well call it that.
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This particular preparation of valerian is nepenthe for the nerves.
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unit 144
But you are not quite recovered yet; the swell remains after the storm, you know.
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Why not postpone your story?
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'I cannot!
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I dare not!'
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said Gabriel, earnestly.
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'I must ease my mind by telling it to you.
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unit 151
'No, my boy, I did not know that.
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Who told you?
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'John, our old servant, who admitted him.
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He told me about Jentham just before I went to Nauheim.
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'Did Jentham give his name?
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'No, but John, like many other people, saw the body in the dead-house.
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He there recognised Jentham by his gipsy looks and the scar on his face.
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By the time I got to Germany the episode passed out of my mind.
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'And what recalled it?
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'Something my mother said.
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'I know; students in Germany are proud of those duelling scars.
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Well, Gabriel, and what then?
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'Did you know that my mother was a widow when my father married her?'
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he demanded in low tones.
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'Of course I did,' replied Graham, cheerily.
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'I was practising in Marylebone then, and your father was vicar of St Benedict's.
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Why, I was at his wedding, Gabriel, and very pretty your mother looked.
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unit 172
'Did you ever see her husband?
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'No; she did not come to Marylebone until he had left her.
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The rascal deserted the poor young thing and went abroad to fight.
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But why do you ask all these questions?
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They cannot but be painful.
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'Because the sight of that student's face recalled her first husband to my mother.
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unit 178
She said that Krant had a long scar on the right cheek.
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I immediately thought of Jentham.
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'Good God!'
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cried Graham, pushing back his chair.
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'What do you mean, lad?
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'Wait!
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wait!'
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said Gabriel, feverishly.
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'I asked my mother to describe the features of her first husband.
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Not suspecting my reason for asking, she did so.
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unit 189
Doctor!'
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cried Gabriel, clutching Graham's hand, 'that is the very portrait of the man Jentham.
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'Gabriel!'
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whispered the little doctor, hoarsely, 'do you mean to say—.
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He is dead now, but he was alive when my mother became my father's wife.
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'Impossible!
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Impossible!'
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repeated Graham, who was ashy pale, and shaken out of his ordinary self.
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'Krant died—died at Sedan.
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Your father went over and saw his grave!
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'He did not see the corpse, though.
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I tell you I am right, doctor.
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Krant did not die.
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unit 208
'There is no proof of it,' said Graham, hoarsely; 'no proof.
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'Ask my father for the proof,' murmured Gabriel.
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'I dare not!
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unit 216
With characteristic promptitude he decided on the spot how to act.
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'Gabriel,' he said, bending over the unhappy young man, 'I shall see your father about this at once.
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You wait here until I return, and sleep if you can.
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'Sleep!'
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groaned Gabriel.
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'Oh, God!
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shall I ever sleep again?
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Jentham may not be Krant as you suspect.
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It may be a chance likeness—a—.
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Gabriel shook his head.
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unit 229
'See my father and tell him what I have told you.
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He will not be able to deny his shame and the disgrace of his children.
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'That we shall see,' said Graham, with a cheerfulness he was far from feeling.
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'I shall see him at once.
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Gabriel, my boy, hope for the best!
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For more info, please see "discussion tab" by clicking on the title of this chapter.
CHAPTER XXVIII - THE RETURN OF GABRIEL.
'My dear Daisy, I am sorry you are going away, as it has been a great pleasure for me to have you in my house. I hope you will visit me again next year, and then you may be more fortunate.
Mrs Pansey made this amiable little speech—which nevertheless, like a scorpion, had a sting in its tail—to Miss Norsham on the platform of the Beorminster railway station. After a stay of two months, the town mouse was departing as she had come—a single young woman; and Mrs Pansey's last word was meant to remind her of failure. Daisy was quick enough to guess this, but, displeased at the taunt, chose to understand it in another and more gracious sense, so as to disconcert her spiteful friend.
'Fortunate! Oh, dear Mrs Pansey, I have been very fortunate this time. Really, you have been most kind; you have given me everything I wanted.
'Excepting a husband, my dear,' rejoined the archdeacon's widow, determined that there should be no misunderstanding this time.
'Ah! it was out of your power to give me a husband,' murmured Daisy, wincing.
'Quite true, my dear; just as it was out of your power to gain one for yourself. Still, I am sorry that Dr Alder did not propose.
'Indeed!' Daisy tossed her head. 'I should certainly have refused him had he done so. A woman may not marry her grandfather.
'A woman may not, but a woman would, rather than remain single,' snapped Mrs Pansey, with considerable spite.
Miss Norsham carefully inserted a corner of a foolish little handkerchief into one eye. 'Oh, dear, I do call it nasty of you to speak to me so,' said she, tearfully. 'You needn't think, like all men do, that every woman wants to be married. I'm sure I don't.
The old lady smiled grimly at this appalling lie, but thinking that she had been a little hard on her departing guest, hastened to apologise. 'I'm sure you don't, dear, and very sensible it is of you to say so. Judging from my own experience with the archdeacon, I should certainly advise no one to marry.
'You are wise after the event,' muttered Daisy, with some anger, 'but here is my train, Mrs Pansey, thank you!' and she slipped into a first-class carriage, looking decidedly cross and very defiant. To fail in husband-hunting was bad enough, but to be taunted with the failure was unbearable. Daisy no longer wondered that Mrs Pansey was hated in Beorminster; her own feelings at the moment urged her to thrust the good lady under the wheels of the engine.
'Well, dear, I'll say good-bye,' said Mrs Pansey, screwing her grim face into an amiable smile. 'Be sure you give my love to your mother, dear,' and the two kissed with that show of affection to be seen existing between ladies who do not love one another over much.
'Horrid old cat!' said Daisy to herself, as she waved her handkerchief from the now moving train.
'Dear me! how I dislike that girl,' soliloquised Mrs Pansey, shaking her reticule at the departing Daisy. 'Well! well! no one can say that I have not done my duty by her,' and much pleased with herself, the good lady stalked majestically out of the station, on the lookout to seize upon and worry any of her friends who might be in the vicinity. For his sins Providence sent Gabriel into her clutches, and Mrs Pansey was transfixed with astonishment at the sight of him issuing from the station.
'Mr Pendle!' she said, placing herself directly in his way, 'I thought you were at Nauheim. What is wrong? Is your mother ill? Is she coming back? Are you in trouble?
Gabriel could not answer all, or even one of these questions on the instant, for the sudden appearance and speech of the Beorminster busybody had taken him by surprise. He looked haggard and white, and there were dark circles under his eyes, as though he suffered from want of sleep. Still, the journey from Nauheim might account for his weary looks, and would have done so to anyone less suspicious than Mrs Pansey; but that good lady scented a mystery, and wanted an explanation. This, Gabriel, with less than his usual courtesy, declined to furnish. However, to give her some food for her mind, he answered her questions categorically.
'I have just returned from Nauheim, Mrs Pansey,' he said hurriedly. 'There is nothing wrong, so far as I am aware. My mother is much better, and is benefiting greatly by the baths. She is coming back within the month, and I am not in trouble. Is there anything else you wish to know?
'Yes, Mr Pendle, there is,' said Mrs Pansey, in no wise abashed. 'Why do you look so ill?
'I am not ill, but I have had a long sea-passage, a weary railway journey, and I feel hot, and dirty, and worn out. Naturally, under the circumstances, I don't look the picture of health.
'Humph! trips abroad don't do you much good.
Gabriel bowed, and turned away to direct the porter to place his portmanteau in a fly. Offended by his silence, Mrs Pansey shook out her skirts and tossed her sable plumes. 'You have not brought back French politeness, young man,' said Mrs Pansey, acridly.
'I have been in Germany,' retorted Gabriel, as though that fact accounted for his lack of courtesy. 'Good-bye for the present, Mrs Pansey; I'll apologise for my shortcomings when I recover from my journey.
'Oh, you will, will you?' growled the archdeacon's widow, as Gabriel lifted his hat and drove off; 'you'll do more than apologise, young man, you'll explain. Hoity-toity! here's brazen assurance,' and Mrs Pansey, with her Roman beak in the air, marched off, wondering in her own curious mind what could be the reason of Gabriel's sudden return.
Her curiosity would have been gratified had she been present in Dr Graham's consulting-room an hour later; for after Gabriel had bathed and brushed up at his lodgings, he paid an immediate visit to the little doctor. Graham happened to be at home, as he had not yet set out on his round of professional visits, and he was as much astonished as Mrs Pansey when the curate made his appearance. Also, like Mrs Pansey, he was struck by the young man's worn looks.
'What! Gabriel,' he cried, when the curate entered, 'this is an unexpected pleasure. You look ill, lad!
'I am ill,' replied Gabriel, dropping into a chair with an air of fatigue. 'I feel very much worried, and I have come to ask for your advice.
'Very pleased to give it to you, my boy, but why not consult the bishop?
'My father is the last man in the world I would consult, doctor.
'That is a strange speech, Gabriel,' said Graham, with a keen look.
'It is the prelude to a stranger story! I have come to confide in you because you have known me all my life, doctor, and because you are the most intimate friend my father has.
'Have you been getting into trouble?
'No. My story concerns my father more than it does me.
'Concerns your father!' repeated the doctor, with a sudden recollection of the bishop's secret. 'Are you sure that I am the proper person to consult?
'I am certain of it. I know—I know—well, what I do know is something I have not the courage to speak to my father about. For God's sake, doctor, let me tell you my suspicions and hear your advice.
'Your suspicions!' said Graham, starting from his chair, with a chill in his blood. 'About—about—that—that murder?
'God forbid, doctor. No! not about the murder, but about the man who was murdered.
'Jentham?
'Yes, about the man who called himself Jentham. Are you sure we are quite private here, doctor?
Graham nodded, and walking to the door turned the key. Then he came back to his seat and fixed his eyes on the perturbed face of the young man. 'Does your father know that you are back?' he asked.
'No one knows that I am here save Mrs Pansey.
'Then it won't be a secret long,' said Graham, drily; 'that old magpie is as good as the town-crier. You left your mother well?
'Quite well; and Lucy also. I made an excuse to come back.
'Then your mother and sister do not know what you are about to tell me?
Gabriel made a gesture of horror. 'God forbid!' said he again, then clasped his hands over his white face and burst into half hysterical speech. 'Oh, the horror of it, the horror of it!' he wailed. 'If what I know is true, then all our lives are ruined.
'Is it so very terrible, my boy?
'So terrible that I dare not question my father! I must tell you, for only you can advise and help us all. Doctor! doctor! the very thought drives me mad—indeed, I feel half mad already.
'You are worn out, Gabriel. Wait one moment.
The doctor saw that his visitor's nerves were overstrained, and that, unless the tension were relaxed, he would probably end in having a fit of hysteria. The poor young fellow, born of a weakly mother, was neurotic in the extreme, and had in him a feminine strain, which made him unequal to facing trouble or anxiety. Even as he sat there, shaking and white-faced, the nerve-storm came on, and racked and knotted and tortured every fibre of his being, until a burst of tears came to his relief, and almost in a swoon he lay back limply in his chair. Graham mixed him a strong dose of valerian, felt his pulse, and made him lie down on the sofa. Also, he darkened the room, and placed a wet handkerchief on the curate's forehead. Gabriel closed his eyes, and lay on the couch as still as any corpse, while the doctor, who knew what he suffered, watched him with infinite pity.
'Poor lad!' he murmured, holding Gabriel's hand in his firm, warm clasp. 'Nature is indeed a harsh stepmother to you. With your nerves, the pin-prickles of life are so many dagger-thrusts. Do you feel better now?' he asked, as Gabriel opened his eyes with a languid sigh. 'Much better and more composed,' replied the wan curate, sitting up. 'You have given me a magical drug.
'You may well call it that. This particular preparation of valerian is nepenthe for the nerves. But you are not quite recovered yet; the swell remains after the storm, you know. Why not postpone your story?
'I cannot! I dare not!' said Gabriel, earnestly. 'I must ease my mind by telling it to you. Doctor, do you know that the visitor who made my father ill on the night of the reception was Jentham?
'No, my boy, I did not know that. Who told you?
'John, our old servant, who admitted him. He told me about Jentham just before I went to Nauheim.
'Did Jentham give his name?
'No, but John, like many other people, saw the body in the dead-house. He there recognised Jentham by his gipsy looks and the scar on his face. Well, doctor, I wondered what the man could have said to so upset the bishop, but of course I did not dare to ask him. By the time I got to Germany the episode passed out of my mind.
'And what recalled it?
'Something my mother said. We were in the Kurgarten listening to the band when a Hiedelberg student, with his face all seamed and slashed, walked past us.
'I know; students in Germany are proud of those duelling scars. Well, Gabriel, and what then?
The curate quivered all over, and instead of replying directly, asked what seemed to be an irrelevant question. 'Did you know that my mother was a widow when my father married her?' he demanded in low tones.
'Of course I did,' replied Graham, cheerily. 'I was practising in Marylebone then, and your father was vicar of St Benedict's. Why, I was at his wedding, Gabriel, and very pretty your mother looked. She was a Mrs Krant, whose husband had been killed while serving as a volunteer in the Franco-Prussian War!
'Did you ever see her husband?
'No; she did not come to Marylebone until he had left her. The rascal deserted the poor young thing and went abroad to fight. But why do you ask all these questions? They cannot but be painful.
'Because the sight of that student's face recalled her first husband to my mother. She said that Krant had a long scar on the right cheek. I immediately thought of Jentham.
'Good God!' cried Graham, pushing back his chair. 'What do you mean, lad?
'Wait! wait!' said Gabriel, feverishly. 'I asked my mother to describe the features of her first husband. Not suspecting my reason for asking, she did so. Krant, she said, was tall, lean, swart and black-eyed, with a scar on the right cheek running from the ear to the mouth. Doctor!' cried Gabriel, clutching Graham's hand, 'that is the very portrait of the man Jentham.
'Gabriel!' whispered the little doctor, hoarsely, 'do you mean to say—.
'I mean to say that Krant did not die, that Jentham was Krant, and that when he called on my father he appeared as one from the dead. He is dead now, but he was alive when my mother became my father's wife.
'Impossible! Impossible!' repeated Graham, who was ashy pale, and shaken out of his ordinary self. 'Krant died—died at Sedan. Your father went over and saw his grave!
'He did not see the corpse, though. I tell you I am right, doctor. Krant did not die. My mother is not my father's wife, and we—we—George, Lucy and myself are in the eyes of the law—nobody's children.' The curate uttered these last words almost in a shriek, and fell back on the couch, covering his face with two trembling hands.
Graham sat staring straight before him with an expression of absolute horror on his withered brown face. He recalled Pendle's sudden illness after Jentham had paid that fatal visit; his refusal to confess the real cause of his attack; his admission that he had a secret which he did not dare to reveal even to his oldest friend, and his strange act in sending away his wife and daughter to Nauheim. All these things gave colour to Gabriel's supposition that Jentham was Krant returned from the dead; but after all it was a supposition merely, and quite unsupported by fact.
'There is no proof of it,' said Graham, hoarsely; 'no proof.
'Ask my father for the proof,' murmured Gabriel. 'I dare not!
The doctor could understand that speech very well, and now saw the reason why Gabriel had chosen to speak to him rather than to the bishop. It might be true, after all, this frightful fact, he thought, and as in a flash he saw ruin, disaster, shame, terror following in the train of its becoming known. This, then, was the bishop's secret, and Graham in his quick way decided that at all costs it must be preserved, if only for the sake of Mrs Pendle and her children. The first step towards attaining this end was to see the bishop and hear confirmation or denial from his own lips. Once Graham knew all the facts he fancied that he might in some way—at present he knew not how—help his wretched friend. With characteristic promptitude he decided on the spot how to act.
'Gabriel,' he said, bending over the unhappy young man, 'I shall see your father about this at once. I cannot, I dare not believe it to be true, unless with his own lips he confirms the identity of Krant with Jentham. You wait here until I return, and sleep if you can.
'Sleep!' groaned Gabriel. 'Oh, God! shall I ever sleep again?
'My friend,' said the little doctor, solemnly, 'you have no right to doubt your father's honour until you hear what he has to say. Jentham may not be Krant as you suspect. It may be a chance likeness—a—.
Gabriel shook his head. 'You can't argue away what I know to be true,' he muttered, looking at the floor with dry, wild eyes. 'See my father and tell him what I have told you. He will not be able to deny his shame and the disgrace of his children.
'That we shall see,' said Graham, with a cheerfulness he was far from feeling. 'I shall see him at once. Gabriel, my boy, hope for the best!
Again the curate shook his head, and with a groan flung himself down on the couch with his face to the wall. Seeing that words were vain, the doctor threw one glance of pity on his prostrate form, and with a sigh passed out of the room.