Part 21 (1/2)

Mrs Levret promised to come, and appeared next morning, having first ascertained that the sceptical husband of my hostess would not be upon the premises. ”He does laugh at me so, ma'am,” she said apologetically.

So she was brought straight up to my bedroom next day, and we had an interesting talk over her own strange adventures.

Suddenly she looked up, and said: ”_a propos des bottes._”

”How about that young man, ma'am? What are you going to do about him?”

”What young man?” I said, honestly puzzled. ”And what can I do about any young man?”

The Halifax incident had so completely faded from my mind that I could not for the moment imagine what she meant.

”The young man you told me about yesterday afternoon, ma'am,” Mrs Levret answered stoutly.

”But I can't do anything about him. What _should_ I do?”

Then she took up her parable in these words:

”Well, ma'am, I have been thinking a deal about that young man since yesterday. It seemed to take a sort of hold upon me. It seems given to me, ma'am, _that it is a young woman who is haunting him--a young woman who is not in his own rank in life--someone whom he wronged_.”

I was amazed by these words, and still more by the keen interest Mrs Levret showed in the subject.

”But what can _I_ do in the matter, even if it be as you say?” was my next question.

”Well, ma'am, they give me to understand that the young man must be made to confess. He will never have any peace until he does. It seems to me _you_ might get him to confess.”

Now there could be no question of confession on the outer plane, as the young man was a perfect stranger to me, and there was small chance of our ever meeting again.

But I was aware that Mrs Levret was not speaking of the outer plane, so I agreed to take pencil and paper, and see if I could bring the spirit of Henry Halifax to me, and having done so, whether I could induce him to tell me the truth.

He came, but for a long time would say neither YES nor NO. ”_What business is it of yours?_” was the constant reply to my questions. And I am bound to say it appeared a very pertinent one, from the ordinary point of view.

Clearly it _was_ no business of mine; but Mrs Levret was so much in earnest, and had impressed me so strongly with what ”_had been given to her_,” that I felt I must persevere, in the young fellow's own interests.

So I explained that I had no wish to pry into his private affairs from any mere unworthy curiosity, but that having myself felt the malignant presence that was said to be haunting him, and being told that only confession would remove it, I hoped he would consider the matter seriously before obstinately closing the door of opportunity now open to him. ”Who could foretell when he might have another chance?”

A long pause succeeded these words. I felt that the angry, irritable mood was pa.s.sing over, and when my hand was next influenced to write, the words that came were not the usual curt ”_None of your business_,”

but an apology for his rude reception of my efforts to help him, and a full confession, which entirely bore out Mrs Levret's impressions.

He told me that it was only too true that he had betrayed a young woman in a different rank of life from his own. She had died in child-birth _the preceding midsummer_, and had died cursing him for his perfidy.

Ever since (it was now late in June) he had been haunted by her presence, seeing nothing, but always conscious of a malignant spirit tempting him to his own destruction. The mental agony was so great that he told me he did not think he could endure it much longer, and had almost decided to put an end to his life (little realising, poor fellow, that bad as this life might be, the next phase would be far worse for him).

After trying to soothe and comfort him, without in any way minimising the weight of his sin or attempting to lessen his remorse for it, it struck me that it would be well to try and have a little talk with his poor young victim. So saying good-bye, and promising to remember him in future, I asked mentally for _her_ spirit to come, and then tried to influence her in the direction of forgiveness. It was a hard struggle, and no wonder.

The poor young woman had trusted him, had been deceived, and finally launched into another sphere without any preparation for it. What wonder that she haunted the man who had wronged her so terribly, through pure selfishness, and that any love she had ever borne him had long since turned to deadly hate!

It needed both time and patience to rouse even mere pa.s.sive feelings towards him. I spoke of his deep remorse and misery. At first she only answered that she was very glad to hear it, because it showed she had succeeded in making her presence felt.

By degrees, however, a more womanly view of the subject seemed to come to her. After all, he was the father of her child; the poor little baby that had mercifully followed its mother into the Great Unseen.