CHAPTER XII

THE NEW PAGE

Things went very smoothly at Gore Hall after Durham had established Lucy as its mistress during the absence of Bernard. The girl herself firmly believed that her cousin was dead and a.s.sumed deep mourning. She had been fond of Bernard in a sisterly way, and felt his loss deeply. It was her outspoken affection that provoked a quarrel between her and Julius, and which led to the breaking of their engagement. Lucy had a high temper, which had been kept in subjection during the life of Sir Simon.

But now that she tasted the sweets of power she was not disposed to allow Julius to treat her as he chose.

Mrs. Gilroy came back from her visit to the lawyer in rather a dejected frame of mind. She saw that she had gone too far and had given Durham an inkling as to the possibility of Michael having masqueraded as Bernard.

The housekeeper had thought her position una.s.sailable, knowing that she had married Walter Gore; and although there was a flaw in the circ.u.mstances upon which she built her claim, yet she trusted to her own cleverness to conceal this from the too-clever lawyer. But, apart from this, the fact that he suspected someone of pa.s.sing himself off as Bernard startled her, and opened an abyss at her feet. On leaving the office she judged it best to lower her crest for the moment and to wait patiently to see what would transpire. Mrs. Gilroy was a well-educated woman and very astute, therefore she hoped to gain her ends by craft if not by force. So far she had failed, but she did not intend to abandon her claim for one failure.

As it was, she came back to the Hall and behaved herself much better than she had ever done before. She was respectful to Lucy, and did not display her impatience of commands that she had hitherto done. No one could have been meeker, and although Miss Randolph did not like or trust the woman, she had no fault to find with her in any way.

Lucy suffered severely from the shock of Sir Simon's tragic death, and from the supposed death of Sir Bernard. In fact, the matter so preyed on her nerves that she became prostrate, and Dr. Payne had to be called in.

He was a handsome and popular young doctor who had practiced in Hurseton. As this was the first time he had been called to the Hall, he was naturally very pleased, and was very attentive.

"A complete rest is what you need," he said to Miss Randolph. "I think you should keep to your bed as much as possible, and I will give you a tonic. Naturally you suffer from the terrible circ.u.mstances of Sir Simon's death." He thought a moment and then continued, "A cheerful companion would do you good. Shall I ask Miss Malleson to come over."

"Is she cheerful?" asked Lucy languidly. "I fear not, doctor. She was engaged to my cousin, and his death has made her sad."

"Probably, but she bears up wonderfully. But that she is in mourning one would hardly guess she had sustained such a loss. Was she very much attached to Mr. Gore?"

"Yes. I never saw a more attached couple. Did you ever meet him?"

"Once at Miss Plantagenet's. You know I am great friends with the old lady. I often visit her, not professionally, for she is as healthy as a trout in a pond."

"Is Alice--Miss Malleson also well?"

"In very good health, and appears resigned to her loss."

"I should have thought she would have felt it more," said Lucy, perplexed. "Alice has such a tender heart."

Dr. Payne was doubtful. So far as he saw, Miss Malleson was remarkably cheerful under her sorrow. "She is philosophic, Miss Randolph, and that is wise. I think, however, if you would have her over to see you, it would do both her and yourself good."

"I shall write a note to her to-day," said Lucy. "I am very fond of her, and we get on very well together. Poor Alice. I wish Bernard had lived, so that he could have married her."

"From what I read in the papers it is just as well Mr. Gore did not live," said Payne, rising to take his leave. "If he was guilty--"

"Ah!" said Lucy, raising herself with animation from the sofa upon which she was lying. "If he was guilty. There it is, doctor. I do not believe he was. Bernard had a high temper, but he could not always control it, and was a kind-hearted boy. He is innocent I am sure."

"How are you sure, my dear Lucy?" asked a third voice, and she looked up to see Julius standing in the doorway. He came forward. "Forgive me if I heard a few words of your conversation. But I have just come in. Dr.

Payne, I hope I see you well."

"Quite well," said the doctor, who did not like Beryl, thinking him, in schoolboy phrase, "a sneak." "I am just going, Mr. Beryl."

"Are you ill, Lucy?" asked Beryl, with affection.

"I have an attack of nerves," she replied pettishly. "Poor Bernard's death has shaken me."

"It is just as well he did die, though."

"I have been saying that," said Payne; "but I must take my leave. I will come and see you again, Miss Randolph, and remember what I told you.

Rest and cheerful company--Miss Malleson's for choice."

He departed smiling, and they heard him gallop off. When the sound of the horse's hoofs died away, Julius, who was looking out of the window, turned abruptly to Lucy. "Why do you think Bernard is innocent?" he asked.

"Because, if he is guilty, his action gives the lie to his whole life, Julius," she replied, raising herself on her elbow. "I can't believe he killed my uncle."

"Sir Simon is not your uncle," said Beryl, jealously. "You are only a distant relative."

"Perhaps my marriage with you may make me a nearer one."

"If we ever do marry," said Julius, gloomily.

"So far as I am concerned I should like to break the engagement, Julius.

We were never suited to one another."

Beryl's vanity was hurt. "Why did you accept me then?"

"What else could I do? It was Sir Simon's wish that we should marry, and, owing to my circ.u.mstances, I had no choice in the matter. During his life I was merely a puppet. But you do not care for me."

"I do. I swear I do."

"Although you swore for an hour, I should never believe you. There is only one thing in this world you love, Julius, and that is money. You told Sir Simon about Bernard being in love with Alice, that the poor boy might be disinherited."

Beryl did not deny the charge. "I believe you are in love with Bernard yourself," he said.

"No. Bernard and I are like brother and sister. But he is dead, so you need not cast stones at his memory."

"Are you sure he is dead?" asked Beryl, warming his hands.

Lucy sat up on the sofa and pushed the loose hair back from her forehead. "Why do you say that?" she asked sharply.

Julius stared at the fire. "I can't understand Durham's att.i.tude," he said evasively. "He must know that Bernard is dead, seeing that the coat and hat were found on the banks of the river. No man could have lived in the cold and the fog. Yet if Durham was sure he would not hold the estate against Bernard's coming."

"Mr. Durham requires proof of the death," rejoined Lucy, sharply; "and until then, he is bound to administer the estate according to the will.

As Bernard's body has not been found, there is always a chance that he may have escaped."

"I sincerely trust not."

"Ah! You always hated Bernard."

"On the contrary, I speak for his good. What's the use of his coming to life when he must suffer for his crime?"

"I don't believe he committed it," said Lucy, doggedly.

"You have no grounds for saying that," said Julius, pale with rage.

"I don't need grounds," retorted the genuine woman. "Bernard always was as kind-hearted as you were--and are, the reverse."