Leo listened to this long speech with his aching head between his hands.

When Pratt had finished, he looked up quietly. "It is good of you to take all this trouble," he said, "but I cannot come back to Mrs Gabriel. Even if she loved, instead of hating me, I could not come back on those terms. I can never marry Sybil either. Do you think that I would let her become my wife, knowing who I am? Your sins must be visited on me, Pratt--I can't call you father. You say you are my father, and you declare that you can prove it. When you are in London I expect you to do so. Let me know your address, and I'll come up. But for the moment I a.s.sume that you are speaking the truth. In that case there is nothing for me to do but to go to South Africa and seek a soldier's death. I would rather die than marry Sybil now."

"Don't talk like that, Leo," said Pratt, much moved, and wincing at the contempt of the young man. "I am not so bad as you think. I have done many a kind action. I can--"

"Oh, don't defend yourself," said Leo, rising to go. "I must get away by the same way I came. I shall say nothing, but I hope you will be out of Colester by to-morrow night. Marton leaves in the morning, so the coast will be clear. I'm going now, and I hope to hear from you, so that you may give me proof of the truth of this story."

"You don't believe me?"

"I do--in a way. It seems to be true. You say so, and Mrs Gabriel also.

I suppose I am your son. But I am hoping against hope that you may not be able to prove the truth."

"Leo," said Pratt, following him to the window, "I am your father, and if you intend to leave Sybil you may as well come with me. I can go with you to South America, and there I can lead a new life. I am rich in spite of losing The Nun's House. I have a belt of jewels!--thousands of pounds of the most valuable--"

"And all stolen," cried Leo, thrusting him back in disgust. "For G.o.d's sake don't speak to me any more, or I shall forget that you are my father! If you only knew how I loathe myself for being your son! I never thought it would come to this. Let me go--let me go!" and Leo, pulling his arm from the grasp of Pratt, rushed out on to the terrace.

In another ten minutes Mrs Gabriel re-entered. She found Pratt with his head buried in his arms, sobbing like a child. At the sight she burst out laughing. Then she locked the window Leo had left open.

"Get to bed, Pratt," she said, contemptuously, "and pleasant dreams to you!"

CHAPTER XVI

SYBIL'S VISITOR

Leo had never felt so wretched in his life as he did the next day.

Seeing that he was greatly disturbed, Marton wished to learn the reason.

As Haverleigh had promised to keep secret the presence of his father at the castle, he was obliged to evade a direct answer.

"I saw Mrs Gabriel," he said quietly. "We had a long conversation, and she told me what she had said to the vicar."

"Is it a serious matter?" asked the detective.

"Serious enough to prevent my marriage," replied Leo; "but what it is I do not feel called upon to explain. It concerns myself and no one else.

If you could help me, Marton, I should tell you, but you cannot--no one can. I don't think there is any more to be said."

Seeing the young man thus determined, Marton said no more, as he did not wish to force Leo's confidence. The next morning he took his departure, a.s.suring Haverleigh that he was always at his disposal when wanted.

"Depend upon it," he said, as he took leave, "you are not yet done with Mrs Gabriel. She will get you into more trouble. When she does, write to that address."

"Thank you, Marton; should I require your a.s.sistance I will write."

The two men parted, Marton to London, and Leo back to the inn. He was very miserable, the more so as he had to avoid the society of Sybil.

Knowing what he did, it was impossible for him to talk of love to her.

He felt that he had no right to do so--that he was gaining her affections wrongly. Sooner or later he would have to leave her, but he did not wish to break away abruptly. Little by little he hoped to withdraw himself from her presence, and thus the final separation would be more easy. All the next day he wandered alone on the moor, where there was no chance of meeting with Sybil. The morning afterwards he received a note from Mrs Gabriel stating that a certain person had taken his departure, Leo was then in a fever of anxiety lest the person should be captured.

However, he learned within twenty-four hours that there was no need to worry. An unsigned telegram came from London, intimating that the sender was in safety, and would communicate with him when the time was ripe.

Leo took this to mean that Pratt could not easily get at the papers verifying his story, owing to the vigilance exercised by the police, who were on the look-out for him. Leo therefore possessed his soul in patience until such time as all should be made clear.

Meantime, as he told Pratt, he was hoping against hope that the story was not true. Certainly Pratt had spoken in what appeared to be a most truthful way, he had exhibited an emotion he would scarcely have given way to had he been telling a falsehood. But Haverleigh knew what an actor the man was, and, until proof was forthcoming, still cherished a hope that a comedy had been acted for some reason best known to Pratt himself. That is, it was a comedy to Pratt; but to Leo Haverleigh it approached perilously near to tragedy. Afterwards, looking back on the agony of those few days, he wondered that he had not killed himself in sheer despair.

But he could not remain in the same place with Sybil without feeling an overwhelming desire to tell her the whole story, and thus put an end to an impossible situation. Once she knew the truth, that he was the son of a criminal, she would see that a marriage was out of the question. Leo was quite certain that she would still love him, and, after all, he was not responsible for the sins of his father. But for the sake of Mr Tempest, she could not marry him, nor--as he a.s.sured himself--would he ask her to do so. Two or three times he was on the point of seeking her out and revealing all; but a feeling of the grief he would cause her made him change his determination. He resolved finally to leave her in a fool's paradise until he had proof from Pratt of the supposed paternity.

But to be near her and not speak to her was unbearable. So he sent a note saying he was called away for a few days on business, and went to Portfront. Here he remained waiting to hear from Pratt. And no man could have been more miserable, a mood scarcely to be wondered at considering the provocation.

Meantime, Colester society had been much exercised over the discovery of Leo's innocence and the supposed delinquency of Pratt. Certainly, as Haverleigh and Mrs Gabriel knew, Pratt had generously taken on his own shoulders the blame which had wrongfully rested on those of the young man. But no one else knew this, and even if Pratt had come forward and told the truth, no one would have believed him. He had been so clearly proved to be a thief, and the scandal concerning the stolen goods in The Nun's House was so great, that there was no ill deed with which the villagers and gentry of Colester were not prepared to credit him. Mrs Bathurst was particularly virulent in her denunciations of the rascal.

"But I always knew that he was a bad lot," said Mrs Bathurst. "Did I not say it was incredible that a wealthy man should come down to pa.s.s his days in a dull place like Colester? How lucky it is that we found out his wickedness, thanks to that dear Mr Marton, who is, I am sure, a perfect gentleman, in spite of his being a police officer. I shall always look upon him as having saved Peggy. The creature," so she always called her former favourite, "wanted to marry Peggy. I saw it in his eye. Perhaps I might have yielded, and then what would have happened? I should have had a Jack the Ripper in the family!"

"Oh! scarcely as bad as that, Mrs Bathurst," said Raston, to whom she was speaking. "Pratt was never a murderer."

"How do you know that, Mr Raston? For my part, I believe he was capable of the most terrible crimes. If he had married Peggy! The very idea makes me shudder. But the dear child has escaped the snares of evil, and I hope to see her shortly the wife of a good man," here Mrs Bathurst cast a look on her companion.

Raston smiled. He knew perfectly well what she meant. Failing the wealthy Pratt, who had been proved a scoundrel, the humble curate had a chance of becoming Mrs Bathurst's son-in-law. And Raston was not unwilling. He loved Peggy and she loved him. They understood one another, and had done so for some time. Never would Peggy have married Pratt had he asked her a dozen times. But, as she had told Raston, the man had never intended to propose. Knowing this, Raston was glad to see that Mrs Bathurst was not disinclined to accept him as a suitor for her daughter. He then and there struck the iron while it was hot.

"I do not know if I am a very good man, Mrs Bathurst," he said, still smiling, "but if you think me good enough for Peggy, I shall be more than satisfied. I have the curacy and three hundred a year. My family you know all about, and I suppose you have formed your own conclusions as to the merits of my personality. I am not likely to turn out a criminal like Pratt, you know."

"Really, Mr Raston, you take my breath away," said Mrs Bathurst, quite equal to the occasion. "I never suspected that you loved Peggy. Still, if such is the case, and she loves you, and you are prepared to insure your life in case you die unexpectedly, I do not mind your marrying her. She is a dear girl and will make you an excellent wife."

"Thank you, Mrs Bathurst. Then I may see Peggy now."

"She is in the garden, Harold." Mrs Bathurst had long since informed herself of the curate's Christian name, so as to be prepared for an emergency of this sort. "Go to her and take with you a mother's blessing."

Thus burdened, Raston sought out Peggy, and then and there told her that all was well. They could love one another without let or hindrance. The engagement had been sanctioned officially by Mrs Bathurst. Peggy laughed consumedly when Raston related the pretty little comedy played by her mother. "She must think you a donkey, Harold," she said. "Mother thinks everyone is as blind as herself."

"Mrs Bathurst fancies herself very wide awake, my dear."

"Those who are particularly blind always do, Harold."

Then they began to talk of their future, of the probability of Sybil becoming the wife of Leo, and the chances of Mrs Gabriel taking the young man again to her castle. From one subject to another they pa.s.sed on until Peggy made an observation about Pearl. "She is out and about, I see," said Peggy, "but she still looks thin."

"And no wonder. Her illness has been a severe one. But she will soon put on flesh and regain her colour. She is always wandering on the moor, and the winds there will do more to restore her to health than all the drugs in the pharmacopoeia of James."

"Why does she go on the moor?" said Peggy. "I thought it was the chapel she was found of sitting in."

"Ah! She has changed all that," said Raston, sadly. "It seems--I think I told you this before--that Mrs Jeal told her some horrible Calvinistic doctrine, and poor Pearl thinks she is lost eternally. It was her idea that the cup was given into her charge, and now she believes that the Master has taken it from her because she is not good enough to be the custodian."

"Poor girl!" said Peggy, sympathetically. "But I thought, Harold, that she believed the cup had been taken up to Heaven for the Supper of the Master?"

"She did believe that till Mrs Jeal upset her mind anew. Now she thinks she is lost, and I can't get the terrible idea out of her head. She is like a lost thing wandering about the moor. Only one cure is possible."

"What is that, Harold?"

"The cup must be restored to the altar she has built."

"An altar! Has she built one?"

"I followed her on to the moor the other day, wishing to calm her mind.

Some distance away, in the centre of the heather, she has erected an altar of turf, and she told me that if the Master forgave her He would replace the cup which He had taken from her on that altar. She goes there every day to see if the cup has returned. If it did, I believe she would again be her old happy self."