He was too cunning to do this—too cunning to say anything about his relations, when I tried to turn the talk that way next. On the other hand, he spoke with a revolting readiness of the crime that he had committed, and of his settled resolution to destroy himself if Miss Laroche refused to be his wife. 'I have nothing else to live for; I am alone in the world,' he said. 'Even my servant has deserted me. He knows how I killed Lionel Varleigh.' He paused and spoke his next words in a whisper to me. 'I killed him by a trick—he was the best swordsman of the two.'
This confession was so horrible that I could only attribute it to an insane delusion. On pressing my inquiries, I found that the same idea must have occurred to the poor wretch's relations, and to the doctors who signed the certificates for placing him under medical care. This conclusion (as I afterward heard) was greatly strengthened by the fact that Mr. Varleigh's body had not been found on the reported scene of the duel. As to the servant, he had deserted his master in London, and had never reappeared. So far as my poor judgment went, the question before me was not of delivering a self-accused murderer to justice (with no corpse to testify against him), but of restoring an insane man to the care of the persons who had been appointed to restrain him.
I tried to test the strength of his delusion in an interval when he was not urging his shocking entreaties on Miss Laroche. 'How do you know that you killed Mr. Varleigh?' I said.
He looked at me with a wild terror in his eyes. Suddenly he lifted his right hand, and shook it in the air, with a moaning cry, which was unmistakably a cry of pain. 'Should I see his ghost,' he asked, 'if I had not killed him? I know it, by the pain that wrings me in the hand that stabbed him. Always in my right hand! always the same pain at the moment when I see him!' He stopped and ground his teeth in the agony and reality of his delusion. 'Look!' he cried. 'Look between the two trees behind you. There he is—with his dark hair, and his shaven face, and his steady look! There he is, standing before me as he stood in the wood, with his eyes on my eyes, and his sword feeling mine!' He turned to Miss Laroche. 'Do
She controlled herself with a wonderful courage. 'I don't see him,' she answered.
He took out his handkerchief, and passed it over his face with a gasp of relief. 'There is my last chance!' he said. 'If she will be true to me—if she will be always near me, morning, noon, and night, I shall be released from the sight of him. See! he is fading away already! Gone!' h e cried, with a scream of exultation. He fell on his knees, and looked at Miss Laroche like a savage adoring his idol. 'Will you cast me off now?' he asked, humbly. 'Lionel was fond of you in his lifetime. His spirit is a merciful spirit. He shrinks from frightening you, he has left me for your sake; he will release me for your sake. Pity me, take me to live with you—and I shall never see him again!'
It was dreadful to hear him. I saw that the poor girl could endure no more. 'Leave us,' I whispered to her; 'I will join you at the house.'
He heard me, and instantly placed himself between us. 'Let her promise, or she shan't go.'
She felt, as I felt, the imperative necessity of saying anything that might soothe him. At a sign from me she gave him her promise to return.
He was satisfied—he insisted on kissing her hand, and then he let her go. I had by this time succeeded in inducing him to trust me. He proposed, of his own accord, that I should accompany him to the inn in the village at which he had been staying. The landlord (naturally enough distrusting his wretched guest) had warned him that morning to find some other place of shelter. I engaged to use my influence with the man to make him change his purpose, and I succeeded in effecting the necessary arrangements for having the poor wretch properly looked after. On my return to my own house, I wrote to a brother magistrate living near me, and to the superintendent of our county asylum, requesting them to consult with me on the best means of lawfully restraining Captain Stanwick until we could communicate with his relations. Could I have done more than this? The event of the next morning answered that question—answered it at once and forever.
III.
PRESENTING myself at Nettlegrove Hall toward sunset, to take charge of Miss Laroche, I was met by an obstacle in the shape of a protest from her aunt.
This good lady had been informed of the appearance of Captain Stanwick in the park, and she strongly disapproved of encouraging any further communication with him on the part of her niece. She also considered that I had failed in my duty in still leaving the Captain at liberty. I told her that I was only waiting to act on the advice of competent persons, who would arrive the next day to consult with me; and I did my best to persuade her of the wisdom of the course that I had taken in the meantime. Miss Laroche, on her side, was resolved to be true to the promise that she had given. Between us, we induced her aunt to yield on certain conditions.
'I know the part of the park in which the meeting is to take place,' the old lady said; 'it is my niece's favorite walk. If she is not brought back to me in half an hour's time, I shall send the men-servants to protect her.'
The twilight was falling when we reached the appointed place. We found Captain Stanwick angry and suspicious; it was not easy to pacify him on the subject of our delay. His insanity seemed to me to be now more marked than ever. He had seen, or dreamed of seeing, the ghost during the past night. For the first time (he said) the apparition of the dead man had spoken to him. In solemn words it had condemned him to expiate his crime by giving his life for the life that he had taken. It had warned him not to insist on marriage with Bertha Laroche: 'She shall share your punishment if she shares your life. And you shall know it by this sign—
I tried to compose him. He shook his head in immovable despair. 'No,' he answered; 'if she sees him when I see him, there ends the one hope of release that holds me to life. It will be good-by between us, and good-by forever!'
We had walked on, while we were speaking, to a part of the park through which there flowed a rivulet of clear water. On the further bank, the open ground led down into a wooded valley. On our side of the stream rose a thick plantation of fir-trees intersected by a winding path. Captain Stanwick stopped as we reached the place. His eyes rested, in the darkening twilight, on the narrow space pierced by the path among the trees. On a sudden he lifted his right hand, with the same cry of pain which we had heard before; with his left hand he took Miss Laroche by the arm. 'There!' he said. 'Look where I look! Do you see him there?'
As the words passed his lips, a dimly-visible figure appeared, advancing toward us along the path.
Was it the figure of a living man? or was it the creation of my own excited fancy? Before I could ask myself the question, the man advanced a step nearer to us. A last gleam of the dying light fell on his face through an opening in the trees. At the same instant Miss Laroche started back from Captain Stanwick with a scream of terror. She would have fallen if I had not been near enough to support her. The Captain was instantly at her side again. 'Speak!' he cried. 'Do
She was just able to say 'Yes' before she fainted in my arms.
He stooped over her, and touched her cold cheek with his lips. 'Goodby!' he said, in tones suddenly and strangely changed to the most exquisite tenderness. 'Good-by, forever!'
