Читать книгу The Golden Rose - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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Jasper Payn was not listening. He raised his beloved rose- bush from the table and placed it behind the screen again. He had hardly hidden the treasure when the door of the greenhouse opened, and Mary Grover entered. Lethbridge half hesitated, and held out a somewhat reluctant hand.

"I am just going," he said. "Good-night."

The girl made no attempt to meet the outstretched fingers. Her face was grave and set. She seemed strangely troubled.

"Let me show you the way," she murmured. "I will walk with you as far as the gate."

Lethbridge stood aside while the girl preceded him. It was clear she had something to say. He stopped to take Jasper Payn's instructions as to where inspector Wilkinson was to be found, then walked down the garden path to the gate. He was waiting for the girl to speak; he had no intention of defending himself. Mary could think what she pleased.

"Have you nothing to tell me?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Lethbridge replied. "You know as much about me, perhaps more, than I know myself. There is one remark that I may be permitted to make. I was going to tell you exactly who I was when we heard your uncle calling for assistance. I couldn't very well tell you before. It was impossible you could leave my house during the storm. And you might have insisted upon doing that if you had discovered that I was John Lethbridge. It was a case for diplomacy."

"Perhaps so," the girl admitted. "At any rate, I have to thank you for your consideration. And now, may I be candid with you, Mr. Lethbridge."

"I shall be glad if you will," Lethbridge replied.

"Why do you lie down under this accusation? Why did you leave your uncle's house without defending yourself? Everybody believed you had treated him badly, and you have behaved as if you were the thief he always taught me to believe you were. Until to-night I regarded you as a monster of deceit and ingratitude. But now that I have seen you—well, I am doubtful. Is there no way of putting this matter right?"

"To what end?" Lethbridge said impatiently. "My life is more or less ruined. I can hope to look forward to no more than a modest living. And it is only my word against that of my uncle. Why should I tell you that I am not a thief? Why should I stoop so far as that?"

"Don't you want me to believe you innocent?" the girl asked.

"Do I?" Lethbridge replied. "Well, perhaps so. Frankly, I am particularly anxious that you should not believe anything to my discredit. An hour or so ago I did not care what people thought. And yet, since I have met you things are different. I have been so long alone and without friends that—. Pshaw, I am talking sentimental nonsense. What do you care? How should you care whether I—"

"Oh, but I do care very much indeed," the girl protested eagerly. "I feel that in a measure I have usurped your place, that some day I am going to enjoy what should belong to you. It may be that Jasper Payn is a poor man; or it may be that there is something in the mysterious hints which he has dropped lately, and that possibly he may die rich. If I had not met you I should have accepted that money without question. Now, somehow, I feel different. You don't look dishonest, Mr. Lethbridge; I feel absolutely sure that you are not. There is some mistake somewhere. Come and see our uncle again. Come and talk the matter over. Perhaps when you do so you may find a way of clearing your character. It is no business of mine to talk to you like this. You may think me impertinent and interfering—"

Lethbridge bent impulsively forward and took Mary Grover's hand in his. He raised it gently to his lips and kissed her fingers. The action was so spontaneous, so free from anything in the nature of boldness that Mary was touched. A warm flood of colour rose to her cheeks, her eyes grew dim.

"I am sure I beg your pardon," Lethbridge said humbly. "I ought not to have done that. But it is five years since anyone has spoken to me like this, and I find I am not so hardened and reckless as I thought. I will come and see my uncle again. I will try to convince him that he was wrong and I was right. I might have done so when we parted, but I was too proud. And now I must really say good-night."

The girl held out her hand impulsively, and Lethbridge took it in his own grasp for a moment or two. Then he turned away, feeling a happiness and lightness of heart which he had not known for years. And yet he had something to do, something to get rid of which had cost him many months of serious thought and toil. In a dreamy kind of way he walked along. He came at length to the inspector's cottage and delivered his message. Half an hour later he reached his own house, and when there he could not altogether recollect how he had got home. Had he walked all the way? Had he called and had a real conversation with Inspector Wilkinson, or had he stumbled along like a man in his sleep?

Well, at any rate, here he was with stern work before him. He made his way into the greenhouse and lighted the lamps. He walked into the corner where an hour or two before he had stood with Mary Grover, and she had listened to him with a frightened air and eyes full of displeasure. This was the corner which he had barred to her, and behind it was a slender plant with graceful green foliage, bearing here and there upon its stems deep yellow cups whose fringe was edged and embroidered exactly in the same stay as one of the blooms upon Jasper Payn's Golden Rose.

It was the same thing identically; but for a certain inequality in length there was nothing to choose between the two plants.

"Now here is a coincidence," Lethbridge murmured, not without is certain bitterness in his tones. "A few months ago I stumbled on the method of the resuscitation of the Golden Rose. True, I have been experimenting on and off for the past two years, but it was an accident which gave me the secret at length, and within a fortnight of the knowledge of this stupendous discovery I find out that the one man who has ruined my life has hit upon precisely the same idea. No doubt, but for him, I should never have heard of the Golden Rose, much less thought of it. But that does not alter facts. No doubt if he could see what I have here now, he would accuse me of stealing his knowledge. But he would have some difficulty in proving that. Why didn't I tell him to-night when he showed me his plant? Why didn't I let him know that his discovery and mine were identical? Just as if I didn't know. I didn't tell him because I am a sentimental fool blind to my own interests, a silly, impulsive boy who has fallen in love with a pretty face the first time he sees it. Why, for all I know to the contrary, Mary Grover may be vain and shallow and artificial as the veriest flirt who ever lived. She may be simpering and silly; she may have nothing to recommend her but her face. And yet here am I, hardly knowing where to turn for sixpence, deliberately making up my mind to destroy a fortune which is within my grasp, because a selfish old man is behaving badly to the woman who has given up all that life holds dear to make his declining years pleasant and comfortable. If I place my discovery on the market, I shall obtain more money than I want, I shall have fame and opportunity. I can forestall Jasper Payn, I can take all the credit and leave him nothing. And when he dies Mary Grover will have to turn out and get her own living, a thing which, I fancy, she would find it difficult to do.... But why do I hesitate? I know exactly what I am going to do. I am going to destroy the gifts the gods have given me, so that Mary Grover may be happy and comfortable, yet never know the sacrifice I am making for her. It is like a scene from a play, like some episode from one of those silly, sentimental novels that women gush over and that are sold by the thousand. Was there ever such an idiot of a hero before? Nevertheless, I meant to play the part, though the longer I hesitate the harder it will be."

Lethbridge uttered these thoughts aloud, without the least idea that he was talking to himself. And having made up his mind exactly what to do, he could jeer at himself and inflict as much torture as he pleased. But in his heart of hearts, he did not hesitate for a moment. Perhaps it was the life he had been leading that impelled him to this amazing sacrifice, perhaps it was the knowledge that he had found a friend in Mary Grover. And yet, when the time came to act, he was surprised to find that the sacrifice was not nearly so great as he had anticipated. He stood gazing at the brilliant blooms, but in reality he did not see them at all. They had changed in some magic way to the outline of Mary Grover's face, and in the deep yellow cups he saw the azure depths of her eyes.

He did not know how long he had been standing thus, nor did he heed the clock striking the hour of one. He came out of his reverie presently and bent over and broke one of the flowers from its stem. Then he placed the bloom in his buttonhole.

"I'll keep this," he told himself. "I'll dry it and press it, and some day, perhaps, she will know what I have done for her. It will be an evidence, at any rate, that the Golden Rose was as much mine as Jasper Payn's."

Lethbridge bent over the plant and wrenched it violently from its pot. He threw back the door of the stove and rammed the whole thing into the heart of the coke fire. For a time he stood watching until every leaf and twig was consumed, until the thing of a glorious bloom and beauty was no more than dust and ashes. He thought he could hear footsteps outside and the call of voices in the distance. Then there was a knocking and hammering on his door, and he knew there was something wrong.

He threw the door back and the form of a man began gradually to outline itself against the darkness. Then he saw the eager, clean-shaven face of Inspector Wilkinson. The policeman was merged in the man; his face was gleaming with horror; his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"What is the matter'" Lethbridge asked.

"Matter enough, sir," the inspector panted. "Somebody has been in Mr. Payn's place again; one of those thieves he was always talking about. I was on my way to see him when I heard a commotion. The old gentleman's isn't dead yet, but I expect he will be by the time I get back. I left one of my men in charge. Miss Grover implored me to come up and see you. But why—"

The inspector stopped abruptly. His eyes were fixed, round, full and intent on the yellow bloom in Lethbridge's coat.

"I should like to know, sir," he said tersely, "where you got that flower from, because—"