Part 7 (1/2)
”I believe he will clear himself of every stain,” returned Mrs. Sutton earnestly. ”This is either a vile plot concocted by some secret foe, or the Frederic Chilton mentioned here,” pus.h.i.+ng the letter away from her on the table, with a gesture of loathing, ”is another person.”
”That is very unlikely!”
Mabel leaned her forehead wearily upon her hand, and did not finish the sentence immediately.
”I will be candid with you, aunt, upon this subject, as I have tried to be in every other confidence with which I have burdened you. Frederic Chilton was a student in the law-school, which was also attended by Winston's correspondent, and at the date specified by him. I have reason to think there was something unpleasant--something he wished to conceal from me, and perhaps from everybody else, connected with his stay there.
He referred to it ambiguously on the last evening of his visit here, as a folly, a youthful indiscretion. I have the impression, moreover, that a married woman was mixed up in this trouble, whatever it was--a lady, some years older than himself, whose husband, a naval officer, was absent upon a long cruise. This may be the germ of the story related here, and it may have nothing whatever to do with it.”
In saying ”here,” she pointed to the letter. Both avoided touching it as it lay between them, the big seal uppermost, and looking more like bright, fresh blood than ever, in the lamplight.
”My dear, all this proves nothing--absolutely nothing--except that the shock and overmuch solitary musing have made you morbid and unreasonable.”
Mrs. Sutton a.s.sumed a collected air, and delivered herself with the mien of one who was determined to submit to no trifling, and to credit no sc.r.a.p of evidence against her friend which counter-reasoning could set aside.
”My husband's G.o.dson--we must remember he is that, Mabel!--could never be guilty of the infamous conduct ascribed to this Chilton by Winston Aylett's anonymous friend. I am accounted a tolerable judge of character, and I maintain that it is a moral impossibility for my instincts and experience to be so utterly at fault as these two men would make you believe. As to the corroboration of your 'impression,'
that would be consummate nonsense in the eye of the law. Let us sift the pros and cons of this affair as rational, unprejudiced beings should--not jump at conclusions. And I must say, Mabel”--was the consistent peroration of this address, uttered in a mildly-aggrieved tone, while the blue eyes began to s.h.i.+ne through a rising fog--”it seems to me very singular--really wounds me--is not what I looked for in you--that you should rank yourself with my poor boy's enemies!”
”I, his enemy!” The word was a sharp cry--not loud, but telling of unfathomed deeps of anguish, from the verge of which the listener drew back with a shudder. ”I would have married him without a single glance at the past! Let him but say 'it is untrue--all that you fear and they declare,' and I would disbelieve this tale, instantly and utterly, though a thousand witnesses swore to the truth of it. Or, let him be all that they say, I would marry him to-night, if I had the right to do it.
But I promised--and to promise with an Aylett is to fulfil--that I would be ruled by my guardian's will, should the investigation, to which Frederic himself did not object, terminate unfavorably for my hopes, and contrary to his declaration.”
”It was a rash promise, and such are better broken than kept.”
”Your Bible, Aunt Rachel--to-night, I cannot call it mine!--commends him who swears to his own heart and changes not,” replied the niece, with restored steadiness. ”It would have been the same had I refused my consent to Winston's proposal. I am a minor, and who would wait two years for me?”
”Anybody who loved you, provided your trust in him equalled his in you,”
said Mrs. Sutton, slyly.
Mabel's answer was direct.
”You want me to say that I do not believe this tale of Mr. Chilton's early errors; to brand it as a mistake or fabrication. You insinuate that, in reserving my sentence until I shall have heard both sides of it, I show myself unworthy of the love of a true man; betray of what mean stuff my affection is made. I suppose blind faith is sublime! But for my part, I had rather be loved in spite of my known faults, than receive wilfully ignorant wors.h.i.+p.”
The daring stroke at Mrs. Sutton's hypothesis of the inseparable union between esteem and affection, excited her into an impolitic admission.
”My child, you make my blood run cold! You do not mean that you could love a man for whose character you had no respect!”
”There is a difference between learning to love and continuing to love,”
said Mabel, sententiously. ”But we have had enough of useless talk, aunt. In two days more Winston will be here. Until then, let matters remain as they are. You can tell Rosa as much or as little as you like of what has happened. She must suspect that something has gone awry.
To-morrow, I will look up this Mr. Jenkyns, and deliver the messages with which I am charged--likewise consult the mason about the 'baronial'
fireplace,” smiling bitterly.
”You never saw another creature so altered as she is,” Mrs. Sutton bewailed to Rosa, in rehearsing the scene. ”If this thing should turn out to be true, she is ruined and heart-broken for life. She will become a cold, cynical, unfeeling woman--a feminine copy of her granite brother.”
”If!” reiterated Rosa, testily. ”There is not one syllable of truth in it from Alpha to Omega! I know he is your nephew, and that it is one af the Medo-Persian laws of Ridgeley that the king can do no wrong; but I would sooner believe that Winston Aylett invented the slander throughout, than question Fred Chilton's integrity. There is foul play somewhere, as you will discover in time--or out of it!”
To Mabel, Frederic's spirited champion said never a word of the event that held their eyes waking until dawn--each motionless as sleepless lest her bed fellow should discover her real state.