LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2700, 2 December 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A GUILTY SECRET.

Mr Medwyu Lancaster looked forward to the arrival in England of his nephew —the head of the family—with almost morbid interest. Tire lad had been brought up in Italy under the care of his mother’s relatives, and was coming over to complete his education at Cambridge University, in accordance with the directions contained in his father’s will. Arthur Lancaster was then nineteen, and in less than two years’ time would inherit the vast estates which had belonged to the Lancasters for generations.

Mr Medwyn Lancaster had never set eyes on his nephew, nor sought to do so. The birth of the lad had ruined his expectations and soured his temper. No one ever anticipated that Colonel Lancaster would marry a second time, after the disastrous result of his first matrimonial venture, and Medwyn Lancaster was always regarded as heir to the property. But after leading an irregular and dissipated life for several years, Colonel Lancaster vvedd-d an Italian lady of good family, and settled down in Italy. Medwyn Lancaster was much shocked by this unexpected event, and did not conceal his resentment. A coolness sprang up between the brothers, which culminated in an open rupture, when, in duo course, an heir was bom. Medwyn Lancaster, maddened hy disappointment, set to work ostentatiously to satisfy himself of the death of his brother’s first wife, who had deserted him many years previously. Colonel Lancaster naturally felt highly indignant at this proceeding, and, being a hot-tempered man, expressed his opinion with characteristic freedom. He died shortly afterwards, being then a widower for the second time, and either from genuine distrust of his brother, or with the intention of putting a deliberate slight upon him, he left directions that his son and heir should be educated in Italy by his mother’s family, until he was old enough to go to an English university to qualify himself for his position in his own country. 3?or many years Medwyn Lancaster clung desperately to the hope that the boy would die. He was reported to he delicate, and the anxious uncle—without holding any intercourse with the lad’s guardians—took care to keep himself informed as to his state of health. The reports which reached him were not unfavorable to his own chances. The boy had many illnesses, and required constant care and attention. But, somehow, the years rolled on, and Arthur Lancaster continued to exist.

Arthur’s appearance certainly did not justify gloomy forebodings. He turned out to be a fine handsome young fellow, with pleasant manners, though by no means roeust. But the proverbial treachery of the English climate appeared to make no impression upon him, while the aptitude and skill which ho displayed in all athletic exercises testified to the vigour of his frame.

Medwyn Lancaster could not conceal from himself, therefore, that his nephew was as strong and healthy as any young man of his age, and that his ‘ life ’ would he taken without demur by the most fastidious assurance office in the kingdom. Mr Medwyn Lancaster’s position was, perhaps, worthy of commiseration. He had a large and expensive family, and occupied an important post under Government which brought him more distinction than profit. Being obliged to live in London and to move in good society, he had incurred debts which pressed heavily upon him. His only chance of extricating himself from his embarrassments lay in the remote contingency of his succeeding to the family honors. No wonder, therefore, that he was filled with gloomy despair when ho realised that his eager expectations had bean based upon a complete delusion.

Young Arthur Lancaster evinced the strongest desire to ingratiate himself with Ms uncle and his uncle’s family. He was a lad of a bright, happy disposition, and male friends wherever he wont. He had probably been informed that his uncle cherished ill-feeling against him, and seemed laudably anxious to dissipate disagreeable impressions. But all his efforts proved unavailing, for Medwyn Lancaster had brooded so many years over his grievance that he could not be reconciled to the innocent cause of it. By degrees the intercourse between Arthur Lancaster and his nearest relatives became cold and constrained, for Medwyn Lancaster did not attempt to disguise his feelings, and his wife and cMldren were naturally influenced by his example. The young man was the more surprised and hurt at the treatment he received, because his uncle’s manner towards him seemed to suggest that he was guilty of some grivous wrong. A few weeks before the coming of age of the young men, Mr Medwyn Lancaster was startled by receiving an anonymous letter, in which the .writer said he had acquired important information respecting the first wife of the late Colonel Lancaster. Though this mysterious communication excited him strangely, a moment’s reflection convinced him that it was unworthy of serious attention. He had long ago satisfied himself that his brother’s first wife was dead at the time of his second marriage, so that whatever knowledge this anonymous correspondent might possess respecting the unhappy woman could not he of material importance. His first impulse was to treat the letter with silent contempt, hut ho kept it by him for a day or two, and the result was that he felt impelled by a kind of unhallowed curiosity to inquire into the matter. He was considerably surprised to find that his correspondent was a little attorney named Cripps, whom he had employed years ago to ferret out his brother’s first wife. In the interval which had elapsed since their acquaintance, Mr Cripps had contrived to get struck off the rolls, and at the present time, judging from appearance, was at very low water indeed. But the fact of this man having been instrumental in proving the death of the first Mrs Lancaster seemed to invest his communication with peculiar interest and importance. ‘The truth is, Mr Lancaster,’ said Mr Cripps, when he and Medwyn Lancaster met by appointment, ‘I have discovered quite recently, by the merest accident, that I was mistaken in the conclusion I arrived at concerning the death of that lady.’ * What do you mean ? Explain yourself,’ said Mr Medwyn Lancaster sharply, ‘To err is human,’ Mr Lancaster, as we used to say at school,’ returned Mr Cripps, blinking his bloodshot eyes; ‘ I traced Mrs Lancaster to various places, and at length obtained a certificate of her death and burial. She was buried, if you recollect, under her maiden name of Ann Williams/

‘Yea—yea, I recollect,’ said Medwyn Lancaster impatiently.

‘ Well, sir, to be quite frank with you after all these years, 1 rather jumped at continued Mr Crippa, ingeniously ; ‘ Ann Williams is unfortunately a common name.’

‘Do you mean to imply, then, that the certificate you obtained for me referred to another person ?’ exclaimed Mr Lancaster in startled tones.

‘That is so, sir,’ replied Mr Cripps. ‘ What is more, I have reason to believe that the lady we were in search of is still alive. I would undertake to produce her, if necessary.’ i Medwyn Lancaster started to his feet in great agitation. If his brother’s first wife was still living, it followed as a matter of course that young Arthur Lancaster was illegitimate, and could not therefore legally inherit his father’s property. He was so startled and overwhelmed by this extraordinary revelation, that for some moments be could hardly control his emotion, and was quite incapable of sober reflection. Meanwhile the ex-lawyer sqt watching him with an ezpression of low cunning and ill-concealed exultation, the sight of which quickly recalled him to his senses. ‘ Why did you first communicate with me anonymously V he inquired abruptly, resuming his seat and looking the lawyer straight in the face. ‘ Because I wished to make sure you were disposed to move in the matter,’ replied Mr Cripps, somewhat disconcerted ; ‘ besides, I did not expect you would remember my name.’

Mr Medwyn Lancaster was a shrewd man of the world, and this answer confirmed a suspicion which had suddenly crossed his mind. He now felt convinced that the man’s story was a lie, conceived with the object of luring him into a base conspiracy

against his brother’s son. The anonymous letter had no doubt been -written in order to test his readiness to dispute his nephew’s inheritance. Mr Cripps’ manners and appearance were eminently calculated to arouse distrust, but Mr Modwyn Lancaster had an additional reason for disbelieving him. The fact was that, though ho had emjdoyed the man to obtain evidence of the death of his brother’s first wife, ho had not been content to rely on the result of his investigations without corroboration. In the excess of his zeal and disappointment, ho had subsequently taken infinite pains to verify the information Mr Cripps had obtained, and had convinced himself beyond a doubt of its correctness. It was the symptom of an unhealthy frame of mind that he neither expressed nor felt indignation at the man’s infamous design. The only sentiment ho was conscious of was keen disappointment. Yet at the bottom of his heart there lurked a dark and dangerous scheme for turning the oxlawyer’s baseness to account. It suddenly occurred to him that Arthur was just the sort of Hd to be easily imposed upon by an unscrupulous scoundrel like Ci'ipps. If he could bo induced to believe that he was not legally entitled to his inheritance there was no knowing what might happen. The young man had the reputation of being chivalrous and honorable almost to the point of absurdity, and it was quite possible that he might voluntarily renounce his birthright to avoid unpleasant disclosures.

The hare idea of such a contingency set Medwyn Lancaster’s brain on fire, and deprived him of all moral consciousness. He could not resist the temptation of suggesting to the lawyer to call upon Arthur and tell him his story, which Mr Cripps consented to do upon receiving ,£2O for his expenses. Mr Lancaster flattered himself that his companion attributed to him the highest motives for making his suggestion, but in reality the astute attorney guessed pretty well what was passing in the mind of his patron. To do Mr Medwyn Lancaster justice it must he admitted that he suffered severe qualms of conscience during the next ten days. He was not a man of high moral principle, but neither was he able to reflect calmly upon what he had done without remorse and uneasiness. Yet he awaited the result of the lawyer’s communication to Arthur Lancaster with something like hopefulness, and it never occurred to him to put the young man’s mind at rest.

He was rudely awakened from his state of mental apathy hy a shocking and startling occurrence. Poor young Arthur Lancaster was found dead in his bed one morning, with a bottle, which had evidently contained laudanum, grasped in his hand. Mr Lancaster was summoned to Cambridge, as the nearest relative of the deceased, to attend the inquest. He went in fear and trembling, overwhelmed with horror, and scarce able to realise the dreadful thing that had happened. To his inexpressible relief, however, he found the sad occurrence was regarded as purely accidental. So far as he was able to ascertain, the lawyer had never called upon the young man, having probably preferred to pocket the £2O without incurring further risk. And evidence was forthcoming at the inquest that the deceased had lately been in the habit of using laudanum to procure relief from an attack of acute neuralgia, and a verdict of death from misadventure was returned without hesitation.

In this manner did Medwyn Lancaster attain his heart’s desire. His sudden accession to wealth, of course, elicited hearty congratulations from a large circle of friends, and at present he is a distinguished member of society, fairly popular, and highly respected. But people think he is ageing very fast. His hair has grown white, his frame is btnt and shrunken, and there is a drawn and careworn look upon his face which betokens a troubled mind. His friends say lie is killing himself with over-work, while his political enemies do not scruple to aver that he is suffering from a guilty conscience. The latter little imagine how nearly they have guessed the truth. The secret of his unhappiness may be traced to a letter which he received from Italy a few days after Arthur Lancaster’s death. The letter itself is no longer in existence, having been immediately destroyed, but every word contained in it is branded on his memory, and will haunt him to the day of his death. It ran thus :

‘Dear Uncle Medwyn,—l am sending this letter to a friend in Italy to post, and by the time you receive it I shall be no longer living. I have learnt the secret which you so nobly and generously concealed from me. I bribed the person who brought the news to leave the country. He is gone, imagining that it is my intention to continue to defraud you of your rights. The truth is, that I wish to take every precaution to conceal, if possible, the motive of the sin lam about to commit. I have thought the matter over, and my course is clear. To save my own honor, and that of my dear parents, and to restore to you what is legally yours by right, can only be effected in one way. I sacrifice my life cheerfully with that object. Pray to the good God to have mercy on my soul! There is a bright side to this terrible misfortune, for it has explained to me much that seemed strange in your conduct. Forgive me for the wrong I have unintentionally done you, and try to think kindly of your unhappy nephew.’