CHAPTER XV.

THE LETTER.

It may be remembered that a certain letter written by Mr Vansittart to Godfrey Harland, and left by that gentleman in his coat pocket, was the means by which Iris discovered his intention to desert her. Strange to say, Harland had never missed the letter. He only visited his home on one occasion after that evening, and then the excitement of his new prospects, and the necessity of keeping up appearances to deceive his wife, had prevented his discovering his loss. Iris had preserved the paper carefully, and brought it with her on board the _Pandora_. She intended to produce it in proof of her right to have followed her husband to New Zealand; and, in case of his attempting to excuse himself, to confront him with the witness to his treachery. When Maggie told her that Godfrey was paying open court to Grace Vansittart, Iris took out her box of letters, and turned them over, and read that one amongst others, to see if she could discover that he had had any positive intention of committing bigamy before he started on the voyage,--whether, in fact, his wooing of Miss Vansittart was the result of an unfortunate passion, or of a premeditated crime. And, in putting back her papers, she dropped Mr Vansittart’s note upon the cabin floor. It was picked up and read by Will Farrell. As he was debating what to do with it--having promised Maggie Greet that he would never divulge to Iris that he knew her to be Godfrey Harland’s wife--Iris herself came into the cabin, and walked its length with her eyes upon the floor, as though searching for something.

‘Have you lost anything, Miss Douglas?’ asked Farrell, as he watched her.

‘Yes, I have dropped a letter--a very important letter. Have you seen it, steward?’ she said, in her sweet, low voice.

‘No, miss, I ain’t,’ replied the steward. ‘When did you have it last?’

‘Only this morning. I was reading over some old letters, and this one amongst them. It is written on thick, glazed paper, and has a large monogram in red and gold at the top. I shall be very vexed if I lose it.’

‘Well, I’ll find it for you if it’s aboard, miss. But p’raps it’s blowed over. The wind has been very fresh through the cabin, to-day,’ replied the steward, jingling his glasses.

‘Oh! I _hope_ not!’ exclaimed Iris, clasping her hands in genuine distress. ‘It is of the utmost consequence to me. Pray look for it at once, steward; it may have got into your pantry, amongst the breakfast things.’

The steward bundled off into his sanctum, and Will Farrell approached her with the letter in his hand.

‘Is this what you are looking for, Miss Douglas?’

Iris flushed scarlet.

‘Oh, yes, it is indeed! I am so much obliged to you! Where did you find it?’

‘Under the table. I picked it up about an hour ago.’

Iris took the letter, and twisted it about nervously in her fingers.

‘Mr Farrell, have you read it?’ she said at last timidly.

‘Yes, Miss Douglas, I have, and, begging your pardon, I should like to know how it came into your possession.’

He knew well enough, but he said it to force her to a confession of the truth.

‘I--I don’t quite understand you,’ she stammered.

‘I mean how is it that you hold a letter addressed to Godfrey Harland?’

‘Do you know him?’ she asked quickly.

‘_Know him!_ I should rather think I did. I know him for the greatest scoundrel unhung.’

‘Hush!--hush!’ cried Iris fearfully.

‘I’m not afraid of who may hear me, Miss Douglas. The whole ship might listen, for ought I should care about it. But I am sorry to think so true a lady as yourself should have any connection (however distant) with such a blackguard as Godfrey Harland.’

‘Ah! you don’t know--’ she commenced, with a look of the keenest pain.

‘Won’t you tell me?’ he said coaxingly. ‘I’m a rough fellow, Miss Douglas, and not a fit friend, perhaps, for the like of you. But I can see you’re in trouble, and if your trouble is connected with that man, you’ll want a friend to help you through with it. He’s a rascal--I can’t help saying it, whatever you may think of him, and if he can cheat you, he will, as he has done others, over and over again.’

‘Oh! I think I could trust you!’ exclaimed Iris involuntarily; ‘for you look honest and true, Mr Farrell, and you love Maggie, and Maggie loves me. Yes, I feel sure you will be the friend of _her_ friend. But how astonished you will be when I tell you the truth! Stoop your head lower, that no one may hear us. My name is not Miss Douglas at all. It is Iris Harland. I am Godfrey Harland’s wife.’

‘God help you, poor thing!’ exclaimed Farrell fervently.

‘Ah! what do you know against him to say that?’ she replied, shrinking from him. ‘Did you ever hear of him before you met on board-ship?’

‘I have known him, to my misfortune, for years, Miss Douglas. He has been the ruin of my life.’

‘God forgive him! How?’

‘We were clerks in the same office, though he was in a higher position than myself, and his real name (as I suppose you know) is Horace Cain.’

‘_Horace Cain!_ repeated Iris, with knitted brows. ‘I never heard of it. Mr Farrell, are you _sure_ you are not making a mistake? He married me as Godfrey Harland.’

‘Then he married you under a false name. But he had good reason for changing it, as I will prove to you. How well I remember the day his father, old Mr Cain, brought him to Starling’s office, and what a swell we all thought him! He had only left college a few weeks then, owing to their loss of fortune, and he gave himself all the airs of a millionaire. We were very much prejudiced against him at first, because old Starling (who was a friend of his father’s) placed him over all our heads, although he did not know anything of the business. However, it was his policy to make himself agreeable, and learn all he could. And nice work he made of the knowledge he gained. He hadn’t been six months in the office, before a forgery was committed on old Starling’s bank for eight hundred pounds.

‘Mr Farrell,’ cried Iris, turning very white, as she clutched his arm, ‘it was not _Godfrey_ who did it?’

‘It certainly was, Miss Douglas.’

‘Oh, no, no! He is very bad. He is cruel and false and ungenerous, I know, but _surely_ he never committed such an awful crime.’

‘Miss Douglas, Harland was the forger of that cheque, as sure as we sit here. He has never denied it to me. He _cannot_. There were but two of us who _could_ have done it--he and myself--and _I_ know that it was not I.’

‘But how could he escape?’

‘He bolted to America, leaving a very cleverly-concocted letter behind him to say that he knew that the suspicion would falsely fall upon himself, and that he was unable either to bear such a calumny, or turn Queen’s evidence against one whom he had treated as a friend. And by the time the letter was received, he was clear off under an assumed name, having left part of the receipts for the forged cheque (which he sent _me_ to cash) in my desk, where, to my utter amazement, they were found, rolled up in some old bills. Suspicion, of course, fell upon me, but Cain’s conduct in running away was so mysterious, that we were considered to be partners in crime, and as Mr Starling, for his old friend’s sake, would institute no proceedings against Horace, he refused also to prosecute me. But he turned me out of his office without a character, and a stain upon my name, and the curse has followed me ever since. I have tried again and again, Miss Douglas, to procure permanent employment. I have even stooped to menial service, with the same result. I get on well; I grow in favour with my employers; I work hard--and then, just as I am rising to something better, the curse comes down upon me, the old lie crops up. I am dubbed as a suspected _forger_, and dismissed without ceremony. It is this that sickened me of trying to live in England, and determined me to try my fortune in another land. In New Zealand the old story may be forgotten, and, if not, I shall find others as bad as myself. And now you know, Miss Douglas, why I _hate_ Godfrey Harland. I met him before we started, and warned him not to come near me during the voyage. He has chosen to disregard that warning, and we have had a quarrel over it. If he does it a second time, I have threatened to expose him to the whole ship’s company, and I will keep my word. I will yet pay Horace Cain out for the cruel turn he did me years ago.’

‘Oh, Mr Farrell, don’t say that!’ exclaimed Iris, who had grown as white as a sheet as she listened to the disgraceful story. ‘Hard as it is for me to say it, remember he is my husband, and I am bound to live with him. For God’s sake don’t make my position worse than it need be. I can’t tell you how I dread the prospect now. But as the wife of _a forger_! Oh, heavens! it is too much, even for _me_ to bear!’

And she drooped her head upon the table and buried her face in her hands.

‘_Too much_,’ repeated Farrell. ‘I should think it _was_ too much. It is sacrilege to think of such a thing. Miss Douglas, you must not go back to him. He is not worthy of a second thought from you. By your own confession, he has made you miserable--else why are you following him under an assumed name, instead of openly proclaiming yourself his wife?’

‘I was afraid,’ faltered Iris. ‘He deserted me,--left me to starve and--’

‘And took to courting Miss Vansittart instead. Cannot you see the little game he is playing now, Miss Douglas. He wants to add bigamy to his other misdemeanours. He has an idea of marrying his employer’s daughter, and getting a handsome dowry with her, I suppose. I know he has given himself out as an unmarried man, and all the ship imagines they are an engaged couple.’

‘Maggie has told me the same,’ cried Iris excitedly, ‘but I cannot believe it. How could he be so foolish, when he knows that I live, and any mail might take out a letter to reveal the truth. Besides, notwithstanding all his unkindness to me, I _did_ think sometimes that he loved me a little.’

‘There speaks your woman’s vanity, Miss Douglas, and not your common sense. How can any man _love_ the woman whom he makes miserable. But if you doubt his motives respecting Miss Vansittart, watch them, and judge for yourself.’

‘How can I watch them from this cabin. I only see them sometimes in the evenings walking together on the poop.’

‘They have theatricals to-night, you know, in the little theatre that the sailors rigged up in the after-part of the vessel. Go and see them, and you will probably have a domestic drama enacted for your private benefit. Both Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart have refused to act. They prefer sitting together in the semi-darkness in front. Take my advice, and when you come back to this cabin, you will tell me your mind is made up.’

‘But if I should be seen? I have been so very careful since coming on board, to keep out of his way.’

‘But _why_? What is your object in concealing yourself, now that we are out at sea?’

‘I don’t quite know,’ faltered Iris; ‘but I am so afraid of him. He is so violent, you know, when he is disturbed.’

‘And will he be less so on land? Or do you think you will have more protection from him there than here? Miss Douglas, excuse me for saying I think you are quite wrong. As you _have_ followed him (which seems to have been a great mistake to me), the sooner you discover yourself the better. Every day you keep the truth from him you increase the chance of Miss Vansittart being made as unhappy as yourself. I don’t know what sort of a girl she is, but since _you_ could be deceived by his false tongue into believing him to be good and true, I suppose she may be the same.’

‘Oh, how I wish I had never followed him!’ exclaimed Iris; ‘but what was I to do? He left us (Maggie and me) without money or credit or anything, just to steal or starve as we thought fit. And I was indignant with him, and I knew it was his duty to support me, and so I decided to come too. And now I feel as if I would rather drown than go through what lies before me.’

‘Don’t think of yourself. Think of Miss Vansittart,’ urged Farrell. ‘It is bitterly unfair that she should be a victim as well as you.’

‘Yes, I _will_ think of her, poor girl,’ said Iris, ‘and if I am convinced that Godfrey means harm to her--’

‘Watch them when they think they are unobserved, and you will soon be convinced of it, Miss Douglas. The sailors could tell you some fine stories of their sweethearting on deck after dark. The girl is infatuated with him. And I think his only object is to get her so completely in his power that she shall marry him on landing, whether her parents consent to it or not.’

‘It shall never go as far as that,’ said Iris, clenching her teeth.

‘Then prevent it going any further now, for the sake of your own dignity, and that of your sex, Miss Douglas. You may think you know Mr Harland’s character thoroughly, but I am sure you are not aware of half of what he is capable. Let me take you to the performance this evening, and I will guarantee you shall not be discovered. You can pretend you have the faceache, and wrap your head up in a veil, and I will place you in a dark corner where you shall see without being seen.’

‘Yes! I _will_ go,’ replied Iris determinedly. ‘Even if the price were to be instantaneous discovery, I would go.’

‘And if you find the case to be as I have described it to you?’

‘If I have self-evident proofs that my husband is deceiving this girl by making love to her, I will go to him at once, and tell him I have discovered his plans, and will circumvent them.’

‘Bravo! Miss Douglas. That is spoken like a brave woman. I was certain you would eventually decide _that_ to be the only honest course before you. But why are you crying? Surely you do not consider Godfrey Harland to be worthy of your tears?’

‘Oh, Mr Farrell! you do not understand,’ sobbed Iris. ‘You do not know how hard it is for a woman to come to the conclusion that she has been wasting all her love on an unworthy object. I am not weeping for the loss of _him_. I am weeping for the loss of my self-respect,--of my faith in my fellow-creatures,--my faith in my own judgment and discrimination. I feel so crushed--so humiliated--so ashamed, and as if I never could put trust in anything on earth again.’

‘Well! I don’t know as it’s wise to do it at any time,’ replied Farrell; ‘but “one swallow doesn’t make a summer.” You should take pattern by Maggie. She seems to have had a rough time of it, poor child, but she’s willing to throw it all behind her back, and try again.’

‘_Has_ Maggie been unhappy?’ inquired Iris, drying her eyes. She never told me so. And yet sometimes I have fancied there was _something_ which she kept to herself, when she has been particularly kind and loving to me. Oh! she is a dear good girl, Mr Farrell, and I am sure she will repay your love to her. I cannot tell you what she has been to me all through my wretched married life.’

‘Well, the ways of women are queer,’ said Farrell, scratching his head thoughtfully, ‘and I don’t pretend to understand them. But I’m sure of one thing, that whatever Maggie is, or has been, she loves you, Miss Douglas, just like her own life. And she’d give up her life for yours any day into the bargain. I’m as sure of it as I am that there’s a heaven above us.’

‘And so am I,’ responded Iris warmly, as she made her escape to her own cabin.

END OF VOL. II.

COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.