And so the great secret was out, and
Robert walked home with his head in a whirl, and the
blood tingling in his veins. He had shivered as
he came up at the damp cold of the wind and the sight
of the mist-mottled landscape. That was all gone
now. His own thoughts tinged everything with
sunshine, and he felt inclined to sing and dance as
he walked down the muddy, deeply-rutted country lane.
Wonderful had been the fate allotted to Raffles Haw,
but surely hardly less important that which had come
upon himself. He was the sharer of the alchemist’s
secret, and the heir to an inheritance which combined
a wealth greater than that of monarchs, to a freedom
such as monarchs cannot enjoy. This was a destiny
indeed! A thousand gold-tinted visions of his
future life rose up before him, and in fancy he already
sat high above the human race, with prostrate thousands
imploring his aid, or thanking him for his benevolence.
How sordid seemed the untidy garden,
with its scrappy bushes and gaunt elm trees!
How mean the plain brick front, with the green wooden
porch! It had always offended his artistic sense,
but now it was obtrusive in its ugliness. The
plain room, too, with the American leather chairs,
the dull-coloured carpet, and the patchwork rug, he
felt a loathing for it all. The only pretty thing
in it, upon which his eyes could rest with satisfaction,
was his sister, as she leaned back in her chair by
the fire with her white, clear beautiful face outlined
against the dark background.
“Do you know, Robert,”
she said, glancing up at him from under her long black
lashes, “Papa grows unendurable. I have
had to speak very plainly to him, and to make him
understand that I am marrying for my own benefit and
not for his.”
“Where is he, then?”
“I don’t know. At
the Three Pigeons, no doubt. He spends most of
his time there now. He flew off in a passion,
and talked such nonsense about marriage settlements,
and forbidding the banns, and so on. His notion
of a marriage settlement appears to be a settlement
upon the bride’s father. He should wait
quietly, and see what can be done for him.”
“I think, Laura, that we must
make a good deal of allowance for him,” said
Robert earnestly. “I have noticed a great
change in him lately. I don’t think he
is himself at all. I must get some medical advice.
But I have been up at the Hall this morning.”
“Have you? Have you seen
Raffles? Did he send anything for me?”
“He said that he would come
down when he had finished his work.”
“But what is the matter, Robert?”
cried Laura, with the swift perception of womanhood.
“You are flushed, and your eyes are shining,
and really you look quite handsome. Raffles has
been telling you something! What was it?
Oh, I know! He has been telling you how he made
his money. Hasn’t he, now?”
“Well, yes. He took me
partly into his confidence. I congratulate you,
Laura, with all my heart, for you will be a very wealthy
woman.”
“How strange it seems that he
should have come to us in our poverty. It is
all owing to you, you dear old Robert; for if he had
not taken a fancy to you, he would never have come
down to Elmdene and taken a fancy to some one else.”
“Not at all,” Robert answered,
sitting down by his sister, and patting her hand affectionately.
“It was a clear case of love at first sight.
He was in love with you before he ever knew your name.
He asked me about you the very first time I saw him.”
“But tell me about his money,
Bob,” said his sister. “He has not
told me yet, and I am so curious. How did he
make it? It was not from his father; he told
me that himself. His father was just a country
doctor. How did he do it?”
“I am bound over to secrecy. He will tell
you himself.”
“Oh, but only tell me if I guess
right. He had it left him by an uncle, eh?
Well, by a friend? Or he took out some wonderful
patent? Or he discovered a mine? Or oil?
Do tell me, Robert!”
“I mustn’t, really,”
cried her brother laughing. “And I must
not talk to you any more. You are much too sharp.
I feel a responsibility about it; and, besides, I
must really do some work.”
“It Is very unkind of you,”
said Laura, pouting. “But I must put my
things on, for I go into Birmingham by the 1.20.”
“To Birmingham?”
“Yes, I have a hundred things
to order. There is everything to be got.
You men forget about these details. Raffles wishes
to have the wedding in little more than a fortnight.
Of course it will be very quiet, but still one needs
something.”
“So early as that!” said
Robert, thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps it
is better so.”
“Much better, Robert. Would
it not be dreadful if Hector came back first and there
was a scene? If I were once married I should not
mind. Why should I? But of course Raffles
knows nothing about him, and it would be terrible
if they came together.”
“That must be avoided at any cost.”
“Oh, I cannot bear even to think
of it. Poor Hector! And yet what could I
do, Robert? You know that it was only a boy and
girl affair. And how could I refuse such an offer
as this? It was a duty to my family, was it not?”
“You were placed in a difficult
position very difficult,” her brother
answered. “But all will be right, and I
have no doubt Hector will see it as you do. But
does Mr. Spurling know of your engagement?”
“Not a word. He was here
yesterday, and talked of Hector, but indeed I did
not know how to tell him. We are to be married
by special licence in Birmingham, so really there
is no reason why he should know. But now I must
hurry or I shall miss my train.”
When his sister was gone Robert went
up to his studio, and having ground some colours upon
his palette he stood for some time, brush and mahlstick
in hand, in front of his big bare canvas. But
how profitless all his work seemed to him now!
What object had he in doing it? Was it to earn
money? Money could be had for the asking, or,
for that matter, without the asking. Or was it
to produce a thing of beauty? But he had artistic
faults. Raffles Haw had said so, and he knew that
he was right. After all his pains the thing might
not please; and with money he could at all times buy
pictures which would please, and which would be things
of beauty. What, then, was the object of his working?
He could see none. He threw down his brush, and,
lighting his pipe, he strolled downstairs once more.
His father was standing in front of
the fire, and in no very good humour, as his red face
and puckered eyes sufficed to show.
“Well, Robert,” he began,
“I suppose that, as usual, you have spent your
morning plotting against your father?”
“What do you mean, father?”
“I mean what I say. What
is it but plotting when three folk you and
she and this Raffles Haw whisper and arrange
and have meetings without a word to me about it?
What do I know of your plans?”
“I cannot tell you secrets which are not my
own, father.”
“But I’ll have a voice
in the matter, for all that. Secrets or no secrets,
you will find that Laura has a father, and that he
is not a man to be set aside. I may have had
my ups and downs in trade, but I have not quite fallen
so low that I am nothing in my own family. What
am I to get out of this precious marriage?”
“What should you get? Surely
Laura’s happiness and welfare are enough for
you?”
“If this man were really fond
of Laura he would show proper consideration for Laura’s
father. It was only yesterday that I asked him
for a loan-condescended actually to ask for it I,
who have been within an ace of being Mayor of Birmingham!
And he refused me point blank.”
“Oh, father! How could
you expose yourself to such humiliation?”
“Refused me point blank!”
cried the old man excitedly. “It was against
his principles, if you please. But I’ll
be even with him you see if I am not.
I know one or two things about him. What is it
they call him at the Three Pigeons? A ’smasher’ that’s
the word-a coiner of false money. Why else should
he have this metal sent him, and that great smoky
chimney of his going all day?”
“Why can you not leave him alone,
father?” expostulated Robert. “You
seem to think of nothing but his money. If he
had not a penny he would still be a very kind-hearted,
pleasant gentleman.”
Old McIntyre burst into a hoarse laugh.
“I like to hear you preach,”
said he. “Without a penny, indeed!
Do you think that you would dance attendance upon
him if he were a poor man? Do you think that
Laura would ever have looked twice at him? You
know as well as I do that she is marrying him only
for his money.”
Robert gave a cry of dismay.
There was the alchemist standing in the doorway, pale
and silent, looking from one to the other of them with
his searching eyes.
“I must apologise,” he
said coldly. “I did not mean to listen to
your words. I could not help it. But I have
heard them. As to you, Mr. McIntyre, I believe
that you speak from your own bad heart. I will
not let myself be moved by your words. In Robert
I have a true friend. Laura also loves me for
my own sake. You cannot shake my faith in them.
But with you, Mr. McIntyre, I have nothing in common;
and it is as well, perhaps, that we should both recognise
the fact.”
He bowed, and was gone ere either
of the McIntyres could say a word.
“You see!” said Robert
at last. “You have done now what you cannot
undo!”
“I will be even with him!”
cried the old man furiously, shaking his fist through
the window at the dark slow-pacing figure. “You
just wait, Robert, and see if your old dad is a man
to be played with.”