proposed to remove the body to England, to be buried in the
family vault at Vange Abbey.
I had undertaken to give the necessary directions for the
funeral, on my
arrival in London. Returning to the hotel, I met
Father Benwell in the street. I tried to pass on. He deliberately
stopped me.
"How is Mrs. Romayne?" he asked, with that
infernal suavity which
he seems always to have at command. "Fairly well I hope? And the
boy? Ah, he little thought how he was changing his prospects for
the better, when he made that blaze in the fire! Pardon me, Mr.
Winterfield, you don't seem to be quite so
cordial as usual.
Perhaps you are thinking of your inconsiderate
assault on my
throat? Let us
forgive and forget. Or, perhaps, you object to my
having converted poor Romayne, and to my being ready to accept
from him the
restoration of the property of the Church. In both
cases I only did my duty as a
priest. You are a liberal-minded
man. Surely I
deserve a
favorableconstruction of my conduct?"
I really could not
endure this. "I have my own opinion of what
you
deserve," I answered. "Don't
provoke me to mention it."
He eyed me with a
sinister smile.
"I am not so old as I look," he said; "I may live another twenty
years!"
"Well?" I asked.
"Well," he answered, "much may happen in twenty years!"
With that he left me. If he means any further
mischief, I can
tell him this--he will find Me in his way.
To turn to a more pleasant subject. Reflecting on all that had
passed at my
memorableinterview with Romayne, I felt some
surprise that one of the persons present had made no effort to
prevent the burning of the will. It was not to be expected of
Stella--or of the doctors, who had no interest in the matter--but
I was
unable to understand the
passive position maintained by the
lawyer. He enlightened my
ignorance in two words.
"The Vange property and the Berrick property were both absolutely
at the
disposal of Mr. Romayne," he said. "If he died without
leaving a will, he knew enough of the law to
foresee that houses,
lands, and money would go to his 'nearest of kin.' In plainer
words, his widow and his son."
When Penrose can travel, he accompanies me to Beaupark. Stella
and her little son and Mrs. Eyrecourt will be the only other
guests in my house. Time must pass, and the boy will be older,
before I may
remind Stella of Romayne's last wishes on that sad
morning when we two knelt on either side of him. In the
meanwhile, it is almost happiness enough for me to look forward
to the day--
NOTE.--The next leaf of the Diary is
missing. By some accident, a
manuscript page has got into its place,
bearing a later date, and
containing
elaborate instructions for executing a design for a
wedding dress. The
handwriting has since been acknowledged as her
own, by no less a person than--Mrs. Eyrecourt.
End