In a frenzy of rage and despair, he looked round at the persons in the room."I take you all to witness," he cried; "this is an act of madness!""You yourself declared just now," said the lawyer, "that Mr.
Romayne was in perfect possession of his faculties."The baffled Jesuit turned furiously on the dying man.They looked at each other.
For one awful moment Romayne's eyes brightened, Romayne's voice rallied its power, as if life was returning to him.Frowning darkly, the priest put his question.
"What did you do it for?"
Quietly and firmly the answer came:
"Wife and child."
The last long-drawn sigh rose and fell.With those sacred words on his lips, Romayne died.
London, 6th May.--At Stella's request, I have returned to Penrose--with but one fellow-traveler.My dear old companion, the dog, is coiled up, fast asleep at my feet, while I write these lines.Penrose has gained strength enough to keep me company in the sitting-room.In a few days more he will see Stella again.
What instructions reached the Embassy from Rome--whether Romayne received the last sacrament at the earlier period of his illness--we never heard.No objection was made, when Lord Loring 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 favorable construction 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 memorable interview 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
