A Secret Inheritance (Volume 2 of 3)
Page 12
I.
My Dear Max,--For many months past you have complained that I havebeen extremely reticent upon domestic matters, and that I have saidlittle or nothing concerning my son Reginald, who, since you quittedthe centres of European civilisation to bury yourself in a sparselypopulated Paradise, has grown from childhood to manhood. A ripemanhood, my dear Max, such as I, his father, approve of, and to thefuture development of which, now that a grave and strange crisis inhis life has come to a happy ending, I look forward with lovinginterest. It is, I know, your affection for Reginald that causes youto be anxious for news of him. Well do I remember when you informed meof your fixed resolution to seek not only new scenes but new modes oflife, how earnestly you strove to prevail upon me to allow him toaccompany you.
"He is young and plastic," you said, "and I can train him tohappiness. The fewer the wants, the more contented the lot of man."
You wished to educate Reginald according to the primitive views towhich you had become so strongly wedded, and you did your best toconvert me to them, saying, I remember, that I should doubtless sufferin parting with Reginald, but that it was a father's duty to makesacrifices for his children. You did not succeed. My belief was, andis, that man is born to progress, and that to go back intoprimitiveness, to commence again, as it were, the history of the worldand mankind, as though we had been living in error through all thecenturies, is a folly. I did not apply this criticism to you; Iregarded your new departure not as a folly, but as a mistake. I doubteven now whether it has made you happier than you were, and I fancyI detect here and there in your letters a touch of sadness andregret--of which perhaps you are unconscious--that you should have cutyourself away from the busy life of multitudes of people. However, itis not my purpose now to enlarge upon this theme. The history I amabout to relate is personal to myself and to Reginald, whose destinyit has been to come into close contact with a family, the head ofwhich, Gabriel Carew, affords a psychological study as strangeprobably as was ever presented to the judgment of mankind.
There are various reasons for my undertaking a task which will occupya great deal of time and entail considerable labour. The labour willbe interesting to me, and its products no less interesting to you, whowere always fond of the mystical. I have leisure to apply myself toit. Reginald is not at present with me; he has left me for a few weeksupon a mission of sunshine. This will sound enigmatical to you, butyou must content yourself with the gradual and intelligible unfoldingof the wonderful story I am about to narrate. Like a skilful narratorI shall not weaken the interest by giving information and presentingpictures to you in the wrong places. The history is one which it is myopinion should not be lost to the world; its phases are so remarkablethat it will open up a field of inquiry which may not be withoutprofitable results to those who study psychological mysteries. A fewyears hence I should not be able to recall events in their logicalorder; I therefore do so while I possess the power and while my memoryis clear with respect to them.
You will soon discover that neither I nor Reginald is the principalcharacter in this drama of life. That position is occupied by Mr.Gabriel Carew, the owner of an estate in the county of Kent, known asRosemullion.
My labours will be thrown away unless you are prepared to read what Ishall write with unquestioning faith. I shall set down nothing but thetruth, and you must accept it without a thought of casting doubt uponit. That you will wonder and be amazed is certain; it would, indeed,be strange otherwise; for in all your varied experiences (you led abusy and eventful life before you left us) you met with none sosingular and weird as the events which I am about to bring to yourknowledge. You must accept also--as the best and most suitable formthrough which you will be made familiar not only with the personalityof Gabriel Carew, but with the mysterious incidents of his life--themethods I shall adopt in the unfolding of my narrative. They are suchas are frequently adopted with success by writers of fiction, and asmy material is fact, I am justified in pressing it into my service. Iam aware that objection may be taken to it on the ground that I shallbe presenting you with conversations between persons of which I wasnot a witness, but I do not see in what other way I could offer you anintelligent and intelligible account of the circumstances of thestory. All that I can therefore do is to promise that I will keep astrict curb upon my imagination and will not allow it to encroach uponthe domains of truth. With this necessary prelude I devote myself tomy task.