Sylvestre’s Secret

Evening Star, Issue 20119, 8 March 1929, Page 2

Sylvestre’s Secret

By Alice M. Diehl

[Alt Kigkts Eeseived.]

CHAPTER XXI IT. ACCUSATION AND DENIAL. There are supreme moments of joy or sorrow, or fear or suspense lu our Jives -when grotesque ideas cross tlie mind, unbidden, to shock their possessor. Such was the thought wliich occurred to Julian Annesley as he stood b,y the beautiful bride, Eve, ns he saw her supposed future husband. Lord Sylvestre, coming towards them along the terrace —it was. “What a situation lor a playright! What would he make of it though? Who would speak Jirst?” His mental inquiry was answered. It was Sylvestre who “ opened the ball." hirst almost involuntarily halting and screwing his eyelids together to ascertain the identity of the masculine figure standing by his beloved, he then went on with quicker steps. “ Hulloa! By Jove, it is yon, old boy! Wherever did yon drop from? Xo bad news 1 hope? You look down on your luck.’’ M “T bring bad news for ,you, said Julian, ignoring Syivestro's outstretched hand, and speaking significantly. “ 1 had better see vou—alone —ah once.” ‘‘ By no means!'’ returiieil Sylvestre, smiling at Eve as he seated himself on the bench, and drew her down by ms side. “ I have no secrets from my future wife. Julian! You would rather share my bad new s as well as the good, my dearest, would you not? Ah! I knew it! 1 suppose yon have heard 1 have had the presumption to ask tins dear girl to marry me, Julian, without asking your permission?” i A* he pussecl his arm around Tmc s slender waist and gazed fondly at her, Annesley felt half-paralysed by the audacity of the man. More, he began lo wonder if there was a remote possibility that flay ward's extraordinary story was actually untrue -whethei, indeed, it was not the delusion of a disordered brain. ~ “ I cannot—tell you—-before—Avc. bo stammered. . . , “But as you assume that magismuai manner, .1 will do 1 Tic same. 1 domain, that you do, Julian! _ 1 am not going to have our first married happiness interrupted by anything anyone may Iruinp up! Kve knows the oriole Justorv of my life —including actions which ordinary everyday people might choose to consider eccentric. Nothing-you can say will trouble either of us. Eh, mv darling?" , . As he played with a thin gold chain she wore about her neck, which hangiucr to her waist, ended in a meda lion —Tils portrait—he murmured something in her ear— then she smiled, blushed, and looked up fondly, confidingly into his eves. Poor, deluded girl! Julian felt exasperated—outraged, indeed, by the daring effrontery of the man Eor a few moments lie hesitated. Should be insist upon seeing Sylvestre alone? How could lie force him to give him an interview? Then, lie suddenly determined to take the plunge, and accept the consequences. “ Svlvestre —you have been, cruelly deceived,” ho began, hoarsely, “Tim telegram informing yon that your wile wns°dead was a lying one. She still lives.” , i AY hat had he expected? Certainly, some display of emotion from Slyvestre. When Sylvestre looked up, astonished, but by no means thunderstruck or horrified,' and said: “Gracious heavens, man, whatever arc you raving about? he felt nonplussed—and once more asked himself if Hayward were trustworthy. , , . , , v “ Don’t he .startled, my dearest, loti must got accustomed to hear cock-and-bull stories about me—it is my late to be mnli-'imd,” Svlvcstro went on, turnin', r |; 0 jfjve. "My good Julian, do you want me to swear that until I met this dear child hero 1 was determined never to commit matrimony, and that she will be my first, as well as my last and only wife ? ” ~ , Julian shrugged his shoulders. i think you ought to refute what they sav about you,” he slowly said. H not—common justice is not done to live Imre, or lo Madge and her brothers.” , r I “ flow am f io relate a calumny 1 know nothing about? he contemptuously replied. “My good Julian are vou aware you have not said what these accusations an wh'ch justily ton in your own eves for believing I am a wor>’-be bigamist and have a wile somewhere? Out with u,, man. H° u t flinch when iu comes to the pome. Jt is much better to say things to one s face than to think them and talk about them to others behind one’s back. Then Julian rose with a ceitam majesty—a finality in his a terrihh* moment to him —in Eve s regard ho felt as some sort of executioner. “If yon will have me bluit out facts—we, Hayward and I, are now as well aware as you are yourself that you, Lord Sylvestre, and Arthur Belcombe, arc not two separate pci sons, but one and the same! ” Could it be possible? Sylvestre gave a contemptuous little laugh. “Oh! That is the sublime invention, is it?’’ lie airily said. ihen, turning towards Eve, who had also smiledr Julian noted with astonishment that she seemed in no wise discomposed. 11 I am a bit of a prophet in my way, am 1 not, love? I told you that that would be said. \ou tell this good cousin of ours why. ’ “Julian,” began Eve, “how can you listen to people whose envy leads to their trumping up stories about those they envy? My future husband has Buffered for his goodness of heart—his affection for this Mr Belcombc, Marguerite’s father. He has gone so far as to assume In's identity, and to do business in Arthur Holcombe's name, wliich the ' extraordinary between them made it easy for him to do. I feel certain that if that poor drowned man could know, wherever he may now be—let us hope in a far happier world than this —it would—oh, afflict him! But one good thing is, he can’t know.” She turned and clung to Sylvestre with a happy, childlike abandon winch seemed to Julian to curdle his blood. What was lie to do? He felt nonplussed. After all, what proofs could lie adduce to confute Sylvestre’s denial ? Guying helplessly at the jnlatuated girl and her daring, elderly betrothed, he felt suddenly physically as well as mentally weak. "Eve,” be faltered, "you are a dupe! Sylvestre, may God give you grace to do your duty before it is too late! Give me five minutes’ interview give yourself the chance of my being your ally instead of your enemy! Be reasonable! Heaven knows, I do not want to injure you. that I am ready to shield you as far as my conscience will allow ’’ "You madman! I will reason you out of your hallucination!” said Sylvestre indulgently. " One must humour the insane! Eve, darling, will yon ~ leave us together?. Go iu—it is g®t.-

Author of ‘The Montamor Case,’ ‘The Marriage of Penore,’ etc,

ting damp. There is your anxious mother looking out to sec what you are about. 1 will join you presently, and, I hope, bring this boy with me, clothed and in his light mind!” “ Very veil.” Eve rose smilingly, and gathering her blue gauze scarf about her neck, called out: “ Coming, mother dear,” to her mother, who was standing just outside the long window of the great drawing room, and with a wave of the hand and a smile over her shoulder —a smile whjch seemed to stab Julian by its utter and fatuous belief in Sylvestre—she walked gracefully along the terrace and disappeared into the house. “ And now what am I to say to yon?” Sylvestre settled himself comfortably in the corner of the bench, and, taking out a silver cigar case, offered it to Julian—-when he curtly refused with an abrupt gesture which was almost rude, seeming in no wise disconcerted, and, lighting a cigar for himself before snapping the case to and restoring it to his pocket. “ 1 flightbo justly angry with you. my boy! I might, indeed, feel so rightfully _ incensed that when yon leave me I might add a codicil to my will and leave you out of everything which is mine to dispose of! But I will _ not—for 1 feel it is not malice which fs making you believe me an intending bigamist and goodness knows what else—but lolly. This Hayward fellow lias a bee in bis bonnet. " I fancy that his passion for Marguerite turned his brain, never, in niv opinion, well balanced. He got it into his head that poor Belcomhe and t wore each other—or .something—it reminds me of the Allmnasian creed — confounding the Persons, or whatever it, is! Bub 1 am surprised at you. Have I not approved of your marriage with Marguerite? Am 1 not glad you arc mv heir?” Julian, livid with emotion, paused, then hissed out his words with an acrid emphasis which would have discomposed most men, but evidently not Sylvestre. “No,” he began, “you are as well aware as f am that ,1 am not your heir —that when you led .me to suppose,! was yon had two living sons to precede me!’ It is in the cause- of those poor bovs brought up as some fictitious poison’s sons, that T am hero as well as in Madge’s—she was Madge to yon. il you elected to call her Marguerite. Sylvestre, you must takes steps to right them all—this poor girl, who-would not, could not, be your lawful wife; your poor wife, languishing in her longing for von, her husband; and Madge, your real', lawful daughter! Come, obey vonr conscience, turn your baeiv upon this inhuman fraud you began, i believe, in all good faith, and put away Iron! you that sweet, deluded girl you have .so cruelly injured.” He paused, for Sylvestre muttered an imprecation. He was roused at last. “This is too much, you misguided boy,” he hoarsely said. “ Understand, I deny your wild story in toto. .Tn fact, I decline cither to discuss your insane inventions or to have anything to do with you or others who arc backing yon up. 1 scorn you all, and I have but one wish —to have nothing to do with any of you from this time forth for evermore!”

With that he filing away his cigar, turned his back upon his accuser, ami sauntered towards the house. Julian stood staring alter him. lading utterly hopeless. More, he found it impossible to believe that this interview hud been actual, real, final; that any man alive would dare to utter such base lies and adhere to them, e\cu when discovery had taken place and its consequences were imminent. “He did not even trouble himself to dare mo to take measures to right Madge, her mother, and brothers, and that poor deluded girl he meant to make his wife,” ho thought. “Is lie out of his .senses?”

In any case Julian felt that his place at that moment was not Hcatlicoto Manor; nor, lie acknowledged to himself, could he help the situation to anv extent until lie had given deep thought to it. So he started tor London by the mail, which stopped to pick up passengers at the little wayside station it signalled to do _so —leaving word at the inn that lie might return any day and hour, and not alone—he must liavc three rooms reserved for

him. “Madge must bring him io Ins senses, Lcannot,” he told himself, as the express rushed citywards through tlio clear summer night. How peacefully this starry sky seemed to answer his gaze—those stars, whicli gaze down upon the innocent and guilty alike — unblinking! “If his supposedly darling Marguerite can do nothing with fair means, then we must use the strong arm of the law!” CHAPTER XXIV. J ELIAN HEARS THREE SHOTS. Julian arrived at his old friends the Daldys’ little country villa too late to see either Madge or their host and hostess, nor would he allow the middleaged cook, who was shutting up the house after the other members of the household had retired for the night, to awaken Miss Belcombe. “ No, cook, thank you, I do not want anv supper, sleep is the best tiling to refresh one after a journey,” he said to the kind-faced, buxom woman, who had lived with the Daldys over thirty years, and remembered him as a boy in the old rectory days. “Then 1 am sure I hope you will get it, sir,” she returned, as she gave: him Ids flat candlestick, “ for it isn’t always as easv to get to sleep as it is to want to.” Julian remembered her words as he lay tossing restlessly on a very comfortable bed in the pretty, countrified room, with the sloping ceiling and the honeysuckle peeping in at the open dormer window. He felt that even in this peaceful spot, where two gentle old linked lives were calmly spending the last days of their allotted span together, lie was not alone. His very pillow seemed to b© shared by the shameful secret of his cousin’s fraud. Indeed, the shadow of S.ylvestre’s sins seemed to envelop him, to invest him with a certain participation in their guilt. “Touch pitch and bo defiled,” was the sentence haunting his uneasy mind, and as night faded into grey dawn he had not come to any fixed resolution in Madge’s regard. “ 1 will be guided by her feeling in the matter,” lie determined when broad daylight flooded the little room.

Every hour of delay, lie considered, meant an hour more of Eve’s degradation, so he determined to make Madge his wife at once and take her then and there to identify Sylvestre as Arthur Belcombe her father.

Dressing quickly, he went out into the garden and round the pretty gahlcd house to the window ho believed to he hers. Standing on the gravel path ho called to her -softly: “Madge! Marguerite!” He heard a movement above, then her sweet lace, framed'in. bet: fail; ilovv-

ing silktfn hair, looked out. She had an alarmed expression. , “Oh, what has happened? - she cried. , , . , “Nothing, only that 1 have come back for von,” ho returned cheerfully. “ Make haste and come down, won’t you? Dress for a journey.” “I will,” she cried, and disappeared. The very sight of her dear face seemed to have heartened him. Strolling about the narrow garden paths he was able to notice and admire the dewy rose bushes, the crimson rambler flinging its luxuriant mass of bloom over the rustic pergola, the marylilies with their heavy perfume, the salvias, fuchsias, stocks, ami sweetwilliams blossoming under and about the gnarled apple tree and epaliers of both pear and apple. Noisy blackbirds and thrushes seemed to call to him in shrill tones of reproach as he stood, hands thust into the pockets of his shooting coat, contemplating the netted currant bushes. As a gleam of white and a quick footstep announced the arrival of Madge, who came, blooming, her eyes bright, in her neat white serge travelling frock, he turned towards her with a little laugh of sheer contentment.

“What does anything matter when I have and hold you, my darling?” he said, as he took her in his arms and kissed her brow, lips, and fair round neck. “So—you knew my programme? You are ail in bridal white. Madge, we must be married this morning and proceed at once to Heathcotc to save poor Eve further degradation.” Then lie told her the result of bis yesterday’s visit —her father Lord Sylvestre, alias Arthur Belcombe’s denial of his dual personality, and poor Eve’s utter trust in the man who bad so wickedly deceived her. “ Yon must see him alone, and try to bring him to reason,” ho added. “Don't look downcast and shake your dear head. I honestly believe in bis affection for you; that, desperate ns he is—at bay, fighting bard to maintain a lie—your inlluencc may bring him to see matters in a different light.”

The gong sounded, and they went in to breakfast. ’The contrast between the pretty dining room, with its delicately spread breakfast table, presided over so peacefully by old Mrs Dakly. and the feverish, atmosphere of Sylvestre’s mansion struck Julian very forcibly. He told himself that ho was glad that Madge’s young brother had supplanted him; that ho would be plain Julian Annesloy, with only means for a simple life, to the end of the chapter.

Alter breakfast lie claimed Mr Dalcly for a private confabulation. He told the aged cleric enough to convince him that or him to marry Madge at once was best all round. Mr Dalcly volunteered to •* see them through,” to accompany them to the parish church, armed with the special license, and to assist his friend tho vicar to make them man and wife. Jt was agreed that even Mrs Daldy was not to know of any wedding. Her ideas, said Mr Dalcly, respectfully—indeed, admiringly—were old-fashioned. A bride without white satin and orangeblossoms, bridesmaids and -wedding cake, hardly ranked as a bride at all in her estimation. “ But .1 will make it ail right with her, my dear boy, so that she cannot feel aggrieved at our stealing a march upon her, as one might say,” Mr .Dalcly said, as, ostensibly going out lor a stroll, the three left the cottage together. “J. think you are doing the right thing, and .so, J. am sure, will my good friend tho vicar.” The vicarage had been the manor house before the new mansion occupied by tho squire, who had married a rich American widow, was built. Tho vicar was a tall, dark, ungainly bachelor, nearing his fiftieth year. He had a curious habit of grunting in various tones, fie listened to the aged clergyman’s explanation of the case with silent attention, then gave a grunt of assent. .He grunted alter inspecting the special license, and, adjusting his monocle, stared at Madge and asked her if this was true —that she was really Lady Marguerite Anncsley—when she assented, giving another most significant grunt. After a few questions and still more grunts, the reverend gentleman, ordering his housekeeper to assist him in the church, led tho way into the beautiful little 2sormau edifice, recently restored at bis expense, and, leaving the bride and bridegroom in front of tho sanctuary, retired into tho vestry, followed by Mr Dalcly, to assume his garb of ecclesiastical authority. There were no bridal flowers, no welldressed spectators, no hymns and voluntaries, and the dreadful thought of Syivestre’s extraordinary conduct overshadowed the hearts of both bridegroom and bride. Still, as Mr Dalcly read the solemn service in his deep bass, somewhat halting tones —as a, sunbeam fell through the east window, tingeiug Madge’s hair with gold, and a young robin which had found its way through an open window into flic chancel sang its infantile attempt at song, each of the young couple plighting their troth felt that union meant strength—consolation—if for the present actual joyousness wa.s an impossibility. “ And now, to wish you all happiness, Mr Anncsley and Lady Marguerite,” said the grim parson, with a smile which seemed to apologise for itself, as smiles will on faces not habitually indulgent of them. They were in the Lady Chapel, now curtained off as a vestry. “ Accept an old man’s blessing, my children,” said Mr Dalcly, taking a hand of each, and placing one in the other. His aged eyes, faded but pathetic, were moist with emotion. “I once had two children, boy and girl; but it pleased God to take them. I think you hav< made me feel as if He had lent them to me again! You must come to ns often, and cheer our loneliness.”

Handshnkcs. murmured thanks, eloquent looks, and the two clergymen stood just outside the church porch watching the young couple as they made their way down the gravel path under the limes, and through the Jych gate into the road. “ A sweet girl. A, lucky fellow to have got her,” said the cleric who had pronounced them to ho man and wife. There had been one iovo passage in his life—the girl ixad died in the early days of their engagement—-and Madge had reminded him of her. “A line, fellow to make any girl happy,” said old Mr Daldy, blowing his nose. “ Yon said you wanted to know who and what she is. She is the only daughter of the eccentric Lord Sylvestre, who ran away as a young man and married some French lady I” Sylvestre had made light to Eve and her mother ot Julian’s “ wild freaks of fancy,” as he termed them. During dinner, only the ordinary topics of the day were discussed or alluded to. But afterwards, in the small white drawing room which was in the future, its master elected, to he called “ Lady Sylvestre’s boudoir,” Sylvestre stretched himself lazily at his ease in his particular easy chair, Eve in her favourite position on a. stool at his feet, and between his puffs at a choice cheroot and sips of black coffee and kummel, lie gave them the history of the circumstances which had led to poor Julian’s aberration,” according to himself. “I. believe I was born eccentric—and my father was eccentric before me,” he began. “There are some fellows who don’t cn.'c a rap about what happens to anybody else if they themselves are all right, but that is not I. I was jusi a, £Qung man fully; fledged,

and perhaps full of Quixotic notions; but when I met a young fellow very down on his luck who had been wrongotf by my father, I stuck up for him—• demanded his rights—and got turned out for my pains. "Well, L stood by this Arthur Bcleombc, sharing what I had with him, and starting a. kind of partnership in wax figures, sometimes using his name, we were so alike—sometimes doing business as myself. And it is through this standing by a friend—l might say a brother—that a certain Doctor Hayward got it into his head that instead of two persons, there was only one.”

“1 can’t think how yon can he commonly patient with sucli ridiculous, yes, and wicked popple!” cried Airs Hamblyn with animation, laying down her knitting. “Can’t you put a stop to it once and for all?” “ When a lie is halt a truth—of which it is well said it is the worst lie of all,” returned Sylvestre, “it is best to starve it out. Treat it with contempt, as it deserves. Resides, what do I care if 1 am calumniated? I am secure ol my position, secure of my darling Eye here—l should be less than a man if I. could nut stand up against a jew *dle canards.” Mother and daughter cooed over their magnanimous, scuyriously-treated hero. Eve, indeed, was in the seventh heaven, all. insinuating little doubts about the relationship with the Relcombcs so satisfactorily solved by what she considered her adored ones lucid and satisfactory explanation. The following day she had quite o smissed the subject, and Julian Aniicjley’s “ most extraordinary conduct, as she termed it, Iroin her mind. She spent the morning wandering in tne garden with Sylvestre, To he with him, to see him, to hear him speak, to hang upon his arm was heaven to her, lor. the courtship period having been as yet of brief duration, she was still in the early adoration stage of the lover who is surprised by success. At luncheon lie asked her what she would like to Co. “To be honest, I want to worn: at something in my studio lor a lew hours,’ lie said. “Will you ami tne mater drive? Is there anywhere yo-i would like to go?” Kvo felt a slight pang of disappointment at the loss or Ins society lor a few hours, hut she concealed if, and declared nothing would please her better than to drive her mother fo a village she wanted to see, in her new pony carriage. Sylvestre lounged about the drive in front of the house, first inspecting the pretty pair of ponies had recently bought, then assisting Eye and her mother fo take their seats in the smart little phaeton. He watched them start, he watched them closely as they drovo down the avenue until the carriage was hidden from his sight by the belt of shrubbery bordering the park fence. Then he turned to enter the house—the same fixed smile on his face which had been there when he bade a temporary good-bye to his young betrothed. “Jones,” lie said to the old butler, who was hovering about in case his master had orders to give, “I shall ho shut up in my room writing letters this afternoon, and cannot see anyone. In fact, I am ‘not at home.’ Aon understand.” “ Certainly, my lord.” said Jones, and Sylvestre strode across the hall and disappeared down the long corridor. Listening intently, the old man heard the door of his master’s “ office shut; then he placed the placard “ Not at home ” on the hall table, and wentT off to his pantry for his afternoon snooze over the paper. Quiet reigned in the old mansion that sunny afternoon. It might liavc been the palace of the Sleeping Beauty before the arrival of the prince but for the external sounds: the cawing of the busy rooks, the stamping ol the horses in the stables, the loud gossip of the grooms, flic busy lawn mower drawn by an extra pony. Old Jones slept on in his basket chair until the'electric bel! of Hie hall door startled him into wakefulness.. He

sat up, rubbed his; eyes, said ‘‘My goodness gracious!” as be glanced at the clone, and trotted oft to see who might be clamouring at the trout door then.

“ „Xot nfc Lome ” was on his lips, when, opening the docn, ho saw Julian and Madge, looking very grave. His forbidding frown Led. “ Oh. ma’am, and, oli, Mr Annesley, sir, come in. J)o they expect you?" I suppose your rooms will bo all right, anyhow. Yes. Miss Hamblyn is out with Mrs Haml.tlyn, and his lordship is in his downstairs rooms. Shall J. tell him, .sir?”

•• Xo.” said Julian, decidedly; thou lie took Madge aside. “This seems your opportunity. Will yon go in him alone or shall .1. come?” he gravely suggested. Madge gazed upward for a moment. Her chosen task was terrible to her. Outwardly determined, inwardly she iiinchcd.

“1 will go, alone.” she replied, and with a word or two to the old butler she crossed the hall and vanished in the long corridor. “Shall J send to the station for the luggage, sir? Oh, don't, say you arc not going to stay,” The old man waxes! garrulous, and Julian, who was strung up to an almost unbearable pitch ol anxiety, let him talk. He was listening with all his might for some sound within, when, after about ten minutes or a cpnirter of an hour had passed, he started to his feet. “I heard a scream!” ho cried. “Let m go.” The words were barely nut of his month wlicn both he and Jones heard shots—one—two —-throe. “Come!” cried Julian, wildly, and ho ran off towards Syivcstre's rooms, the old man panting at his heels. (To he concluded.)