CHAPTER XXX.

THE WRONG DISCLOSED.

"GOOD weather for the corn, Miss Aldyth, but not altogether comfortable for human beings."

The speaker was Mr. Ralph Greenwood, and he was alighting from a chaise at the entrance to Wyndham. Aldyth had just stepped into the road from a field to the left, and he chose to get down and walk with her.

"It is hot," said Aldyth, who, however, in her white and large hat looked by no means oppressed by the heat.

The broad flat fields were one blaze of sunlight, and only the faintest zephyr stirred the leaves. Aldyth smiled to see the little lawyer wiping his brow with an air of resignation. She was alone, save for her usual attendant, a beautiful Scotch collie.

"It was good of you to drive out on such a warm afternoon," she said; "there is no shade whatever along that road. But come this way; it is a nearer and pleasanter path to the house."

She opened a little gate into the grounds, and they followed a narrow, winding path through the shrubbery. The man in charge of the chaise drove slowly on along the carriage drive.

"Ah, this is pleasant," said Mr. Greenwood, recovering his usual brisk manner. "I have come, Miss Aldyth, because there is a little matter I must name to you."

"Oh, if it is business, please do not begin upon it till I have had a cup of tea," said Aldyth, imploringly; "this weather does not stimulate one's brains."

The lawyer laughed.

"Perhaps not," he said, "though your appearance gives a contrary impression. I feared my coming might rouse you from a siesta, but your energy is beyond everything. How many miles have you been walking in this fervent heat?"

"Not one," said Aldyth. "I have only been to the Cottage. A fresh party of girls came from London last evening. It is good to see their delight in the place. Despite the heat, it seems like a Paradise to them."

"They would hardly be conscious of the heat here after East London," he replied. "I shudder to think what those courts and alleys must be like on such a day as this. Then your plan is working well?"

"Yes, fairly well," said Aldyth. "Poor old Mrs. Dibbins was at first rather frightened of the girls, but she is learning how to manage them. They are rough, poor things; they have no idea of enjoying themselves quietly; but we shall tame them by degrees. I go down every day for a little while."

"It is very good of you," said Mr. Greenwood.

"No, it is not good," said Aldyth, shaking her head; "it is just my hobby. I can assure you few things have given me more pleasure than I have found in arranging this home. I am so glad I have the means of doing it."

"Then you have become reconciled to your riches?" he said, with one of his quick, shrewd glances.

"I believe so," said Aldyth, simply. "I value the power that money confers; I am afraid I should not like to lose it now."

"Strange things happen in life," observed the lawyer, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

His words had no particular significance for Aldyth. She supposed them to refer to her unexpected acquisition of the property. They were approaching the house. She led him across the lawn, and they entered by one of the drawing room windows.

Aldyth regretted the unceremonious entrance as she saw her mother rise, pale and dismayed, from the sofa. Yet Mrs. Stanton was not unprepared for visitors. She wore a black gown of some light diaphanous texture, elegantly made, and becoming well her tall, graceful form. She conquered her nervousness by an assumption of the most queenly dignity. Mr. Greenwood thought her demeanour absurdly "high and mighty;" but he was moved to pity by the look of suffering stamped on the pale, handsome features.

"This hot weather is trying you, I fear," he said, kindly. "You do not look strong."

"I am in my usual health, thank you," she replied, so haughtily that his remark seemed an impertinence.

"We must have some tea," said Aldyth, moving towards the bell; "that is what we want—Mr. Greenwood most of all, since he has driven along that hot, dusty road to speak with me on business."

"If it is business, I had better go," said Mrs. Stanton, half rising with a languid movement.

"Mamma!" cried Aldyth, reproachfully. "As if my business were not yours!"

Mrs. Stanton sank back into her place. She was longing yet dreading to hear the lawyer's business.

"It is nothing to make a mystery of," said Mr. Greenwood, in his easy, cheerful manner. "I only want Miss Aldyth to be kind enough to let me look through her uncle's papers once more. A curious fact has come to light."

The blood flew into Mrs. Stanton's face, her heart throbbed wildly, her breath came fast. What was he about to say?

"You have heard of Mr. Gould, Miss Dawtrey's fiancé? He is a solicitor, practising in London; his office is in Chancery Lane. Well, Mr. Guy Lorraine has lately made his acquaintance, and has heard from him a strange story. It seems that Mr. Stephen Lorraine, only a few months before his death—in April, I believe it was—went to London and called on him. He said he wished to make a will, and must have it drawn up at once, that he might sign it without delay. He gave certain clear, concise directions, and waited there in the office for three whole hours till the will was ready for his signature. Gould and his clerk were the witnesses. Mr. Lorraine insisted on carrying the will away with him. There was no time to make a copy."

"Then that was what brought uncle to London!" The words escaped Aldyth almost unawares.

"You knew of his being there?"

"Yes, I met him most unexpectedly in Oxford Street. I remember he had a small packet in his hand. He made me promise to tell no one of my meeting him—he did not want it talked about at Woodham."

"Ah, that was it," said the lawyer quickly; "he wanted to do it on the sly, without my knowing anything about it. He was ashamed to let me know that he had changed his mind. I had put things to him as strongly as I dared. But what a mistake it was! Why could he not have come to me, his own lawyer, and let me draw up another will for him?

"Now who is to say what has become of this last will? Did he change his mind a second time and destroy it, intending the former will to stand? Or have we overlooked this, his last will, and is it yet to be found? This is a vital question for you, Miss Aldyth. You understand, do you not, that the will by which you inherit was made in January of last year, and would be invalid if a later one were found?"

"I understand!" said Aldyth.

She was startled but not confused by the lawyer's words. In a moment her mind had grasped the whole situation. She saw all that it involved for Guy, for herself, for her mother. A few minutes before she had been rejoicing in the power her wealth gave her; now it seemed probable that the wealth had never been hers. Well, she had been happy without riches, and she could be happy without them again. Her mother would feel the change most.

For a few moments Aldyth dared not glance towards her mother; she wondered that no word or sound escaped her. Whilst these thoughts were passing through Aldyth's mind with lightning speed, the lawyer went on talking in courteously regretful tones.

"It is much to be deplored that there should be any question as to the validity of the will. Mr. Lorraine ought to have acquainted use with his intentions. It is a very awkward thing when a later will is discovered, after one has been proved and put into execution. Mr. Gould avers that this later will bequeathed Wyndham and most of the property to Mr. Guy Lorraine; he, naturally, is much excited by the intelligence. I told him I was sure you would have no objection to my instituting a thorough search for the missing document."

Aldyth's mind had taken a new flight during his deliberate utterances. She was recalling the words her uncle had said to her as they sat together in Hyde Park, recalling too the drear hour when she stood by his bedside, and he had vainly striven to say to her something which was believed to have reference to his will.

"Uncle did not destroy that will," she exclaimed aloud, in a tone of conviction; "it will be found somewhere in this house, I fully believe. Search for it by all means—search everywhere. How I wish we had known of it before!"

An exclamation from Mr. Greenwood startled her.

She turned to see her mother falling in a fainting fit to the floor.

During the next two hours, Aldyth had no thought of any one save her mother. Mrs. Stanton recovered from one swoon only to sink back into another. Her condition was so alarming that a messenger was despatched with all haste to seek the doctor.

Mr. Greenwood lingered in the drawing room, not knowing whether to go or to stay, and making vain offers of service to every one who came in his way, till Gladys took pity on him, and managed to get from Aldyth the keys of the library, after which he found plenty of occupation.

The medical man appeared to think seriously of Mrs. Stanton's condition. He inquired if she had sustained any shock that could account for it. It could hardly be called shock, Aldyth said; but she had heard what might well cause her anxiety. Perhaps, he suggested, it was the last of a series of mental disturbances—the "last straw" of the proverb. The symptoms indicated a shattered condition of the nerves and a complete prostration of strength. Aldyth could not say that her mother had of late had great worries; but she had certainly for some time seemed restless and unhappy, and doubtless the loss of her husband and the ruin of his firm were sufficient cause.

It was evening ere Aldyth found leisure to go down stairs and see what Mr. Greenwood was doing. She found him in the library. He had thoroughly ransacked the bureau, and in doing so had discovered the secret recess.

"Look!" he said, as he pointed it out to her. "This was what led me to the discovery. The third drawer was unlocked; it would not quite close. I searched for the cause, and saw this bit of white stuff caught at the back. Pulling out the drawer to free it, I saw a little nick in the wood, which let me into the secret of the hollow beyond. Now, that piece of stuff was never worn by Stephen Lorraine. Some one has been prying here. Was it one of the servants, do you think?"

"No," said Aldyth. "Mrs. Rogers kept the keys; she would not let one of the servants have them; and my trust in her is absolute."

"Yes?" said the lawyer, with a rather dubious air.

Aldyth bent to examine the fragment of linen. It was of the finest lawn, apparently torn from a frill, such as her mother had been wont to wear in the sleeves of her crape gown. Aldyth's colour rose with the thought. Various possibilities suggested themselves to her mind. She could not have told why it was, but from that moment, the idea that her mother was concealing some knowledge of the later will took possession of Aldyth's mind, and refused to be dislodged. She turned to Mr. Greenwood, speaking rather tremulously—

"Mrs. Rogers had nothing to do with this, I feel certain; but I will make inquiries, I will try to ascertain if any one has been to the bureau."

"It will be well, to do so," he replied.

"Will you search further to-night?" she asked.

"No, not now. I must be getting home," he said.

"You will have some dinner before you start?"

"No, thank you, I must not stay. Mrs. Greenwood will be expecting me. I shall be out again in a day or two. Mrs. Stanton will be better then, I trust."

"I hope so," Aldyth said. "But I feel uneasy, her pulse is so high."

It was indeed many days ere Mrs. Stanton could be pronounced on the way to recovery. She developed a kind of low fever, and though her life was never in actual danger, her condition was such that Aldyth suffered much anxiety.

Part of the time she was delirious, and the words she uttered in her delirium seemed to confirm the painful impression Aldyth had received. Something evidently weighed on the mind of the patient, something she was anxious to conceal.

Was it a wrong done to Guy, that his name was so often on her lips, uttered in tones of aversion and dread? What was it that she persistently declared to be "no crime under the circumstances?"

Crime! The word thrilled Aldyth with horror. Could it possibly be that her mother had destroyed the will by which Guy should have inherited Wyndham? Aldyth could not seriously entertain the idea, and yet the fear haunted her. Miserable was her anxiety and suspense as she watched beside her mother's bed, performing every duty with the tenderest care. The very thought of her inheritance had become a torture to her. What if she had no right to the home she occupied? What if she were daily spending money that was not hers?

Meanwhile search had been made throughout the house, in every possible and impossible place, for the missing will. Only the sick-room had not been searched. Aldyth longed for the day when she might satisfy herself with regard to that, but it would have been impossible for her to look through drawers and cupboards without her mother's permission.

The fever passed, but left the patient so reduced in strength, that her progress towards convalescence was of the slowest. Mind as well as body was sadly depressed. Aldyth did not need the doctor's hint to convince her that there was a burden on her mother's mind which retarded her recovery.

In vain Aldyth tried to discover its nature. It was impossible to give help whilst confidence was resolutely withheld. Mrs. Stanton never alluded to the lawyer's visit, nor inquired the result of his search. She might have forgotten all about it, yet Aldyth felt sure that she had not. Was not this the cause of her deep-drawn sighs, her weary movements, and the sleeplessness which defied the doctor's drugs?

One warm afternoon, Mrs. Stanton lay on the couch in her bedroom.

"We shall soon have you down stairs now, mamma," Aldyth had said, as she helped her into her dressing-gown.

But her mother only shook her head and sighed. The thought of resuming her old life was distasteful to her. She had taken a dislike to Wyndham, and her strongest desire at the present moment was to escape from the place. Yet her heart clung to the comforts and luxuries which Aldyth's inheritance had secured for her.

"It is very warm," she murmured, presently. "Where is that palm-leaf fan, Aldyth? It is lighter to hold than this one."

"I could not find it yesterday," Aldyth replied; "perhaps it is in the wardrobe."

She opened the doors as she spoke.

The next minute, Mrs. Stanton saw with a thrill of dread that Aldyth had mounted a chair, and was searching on the top shelf of the wardrobe. A hectic colour suddenly glowed in the cheeks of the invalid; her voice was sharp to shrillness, as she exclaimed—

"What are you doing, Aldyth? You will not find it there. Come down at once; you know I cannot bear people to turn over my things."

Startled by her mother's manner, Aldyth sprang down. "Why, mamma, I was doing no harm," she said; "there is hardly anything on that shelf except your travelling desk."

A shudder ran through Mrs. Stanton's weakened frame. She was ashamed to meet her daughter's eyes, full of wonder at her excessive agitation.

Aldyth's glance was penetrating; she half read, half guessed the cause of that agitation. Hence her next remark—"Mamma, I may soon have to ask you to let me look through your wardrobe and drawers."

"What do you mean?"

"I promised Mr. Greenwood I would look everywhere for that will. Do you remember about it?"

For a few moments Mrs. Stanton could not reply. Her face grew ashy white to the very lips. Then she rallied herself to utter the retort, "What right has he or any one to suppose that it can be amongst my things? That wardrobe contains only what is mine."

"He supposes nothing of the kind," said Aldyth; "I only want, for my own satisfaction, to be able to assure him that the will is nowhere in the house."

Mrs. Stanton's lips moved, but no sound passed them. She could not utter the untrue word. Something within her said that it was vain to struggle longer; further concealment was impossible. Yet she shrank from the disclosure that must be made.

"Mother, do you know anything about this will?"

Mrs. Stanton covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

"Mamma! Then it is so. Tell me—where is it?"

No reply. Mrs. Stanton began to sob.

"Mamma, I must know." There was sternness in Aldyth's voice now. "You have not destroyed the will?"

"No, no; not that!" cried Mrs. Stanton, excitedly. "Nothing so bad as that. You will think it very wrong, I know; but I did it for the best."

"What did you do for the best?" asked Aldyth, trying hard to control herself, but with an inevitable hardness in her manner. "You found the will, I suppose. What have you done with it?"

"Yes, I found it," sobbed Mrs. Stanton, "and I have not had a happy moment since. It is up there, Aldyth. You were near it just now. In the travelling desk."

In another minute, Aldyth had the desk in her hands.

Directed by her mother, she found the key and opened the desk. There was the will, and a glance assured Aldyth it was the one that Mr. Gould had drawn up for her uncle.

"How long is it since you found this?" Aldyth inquired.

"Oh, a long time ago," sobbed Mrs. Stanton. "Aldyth, don't look at me like that. It cannot matter so very much."

"I must know when," said Aldyth, firmly.

"Well, then, it was the day after I came to Wyndham. Mrs. Rogers gave me the keys, and I thought I would amuse myself by looking through the bureau. It was in a secret recess behind some drawers. Oh, I wish I had never found it! It made me miserable."

"Wish rather that you had never concealed it," cried Aldyth, unable to suppress her indignation. "How could you bear to go on living so for nearly a year, living in a home which does not belong to us, on an income to which we have no right, living like common thieves and swindlers?"

"Aldyth, how can you speak so!"

"I cannot gloss it over, mamma," said Aldyth, coldly. "It was an act of dishonesty, look at it how you will. Guy was kept out of his property. But there shall be an end to it."

"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Stanton, in a frightened tone, as Aldyth turned to quit the room.

"I shall send for Guy at once that he may hear what you have told me."

"Not from me!" cried Mrs. Stanton, excitedly. "I could not tell him. And there is surely no need to tell him everything. It is enough that the will is found."

"It is not enough," said Aldyth, decidedly. "Guy has a right to know all. Nothing can justify further concealment. If I were you, I would make a full confession to him."

"That I can never do," sobbed her mother. "I could not bear the shame, the exposure."

"Then I will tell him," said Aldyth. "It may not be necessary for others to know, but I must insist upon Guy's being told all."

"You are unkind to me, Aldyth!" cried her mother, passionately. "You do not care how much I suffer."

The words smote Aldyth. Was her proud sense of the wrong done to herself as well as to Guy rendering her pitiless? She remembered her mother's weakness, her recent illness, and the doctor's fear of a relapse, all the suffering which her sin had caused her. She went back and spoke in a softer tone as she bent over her mother.

"Forgive me, mamma, if I seem harsh and cruel. You do not know what this is to me. I would not for the world have had you act so. But it cannot be helped now, and you have suffered greatly. It only remains for us to do all in our power to make amends to Guy. And we must begin by full confession. There is no other way to peace for those who have sinned. It is when we confess and forsake our sin that we find mercy."

"I never meant to do anything so very bad," sobbed Mrs. Stanton; "but I thought it would be so dreadful for us all to be poor. Gladys's prospects would be ruined, and Cecil's education stopped. I am sure I did it for the best."

Aldyth's face grew stern again.

"It can never be well, to do what is wrong," she said, abruptly. Then, feeling that words were of little use, she left the room, carrying the will with her.

Gladys was not to be found, so she sent Mrs. Rogers to take care of her mother, and sat down to write a few lines to Guy. They were quickly written and the note despatched.

Aldyth breathed more freely when this was done. She went to her room, and the first thing which met her eyes was the portrait of her mother, on which her affection had feasted through the long years of absence. Mrs. Stanton's wan, wasted countenance of to-day had little resemblance to the lovely contour of the photograph; and no less a contrast did her mother's character, as Aldyth now knew it, present to that of the ideal mother whom Aldyth had worshipped in her heart through all those years.

Ah, the pity of it! Aldyth's heart throbbed with pain as those fancies of the past came back to her recognized as illusions. It was her mother who had done this wrong, this dishonourable action. With what a burning sense of shame and degradation Aldyth realized the truth! She had not dreamed that she would ever be called to share the burden of her mother's sin. It pressed upon her cruelly. She felt as if she were the guilty one. How could she confess to Guy the wrong that had been done him? It was useless to ask. There was no evading the task, and she summoned all her resolution for performance of the painful duty.