As We Forgive Them

by William Le Queux

entirely mistaken," said the widow, quite frankly."I happen to know that the very reason why her father left his secret toyou was in order that you might profit by its knowledge as he had done,and because he foresaw the direction of Mabel's affections."

  "How do you know this, Mrs. Percival?" I demanded, half inclined todoubt her.

  "Because Mr. Blair, before making his will, took me into his confidenceand asked me frankly whether his daughter had ever mentioned you in sucha manner as to cause me to suspect. I told him the truth of course,just as I have now told you. Mabel loves you--loves you very dearly."

  "Then for the legacy left me by poor Blair, I am, in a great measure,indebted to you?" I remarked, adding a word of thanks and ponderingdeeply over the revelation she had just made.

  "I only did what was my duty to you both," was her response. "She lovesyou, as I say, and therefore, by a little persuasion you could, I feelconvinced, induce her to tell us the truth concerning this man Dawson.She has fled, it is true, but more in fear of what you may think of herwhen her secret is out, than of the man himself. Recollect," she added,"Mabel is passionately fond of you, she has confessed it to me manytimes, but for some extraordinary reason which remains a mystery, she isendeavouring to repress her affection. She fears, I think, that on yourpart there is only friendship--that you are too confirmed a bachelor toregard her with any thoughts of affection."

  "Oh, Mrs. Percival!" I cried, with a sudden outpouring, "I tell you, Iconfess to you that I have loved Mabel all along--I love her now,fondly, passionately, with all that fierce ardour that comes to a manonly once in his lifetime. She has misjudged me. It is I who have beenfoolishly at fault, for I have been blind, I have never read her heart'ssecret."

  "Then she must know this at once," was the elderly woman's sympatheticanswer. "We must discover her, at all costs, and tell her. There mustbe a reunion, and she on her part, must confess to you. I know too wellhow deeply she loves you," she added, "I know how she admires you andhow, in the secrecy of her room, she has time after time wept long andbitterly because she believed you were cold and blind to the burningpassion of her true pure heart."

  But how? The whereabouts of my well-beloved were unknown. She haddisappeared completely, in order, it seemed, to escape some terriblerevelation which she knew must be made sooner or later.

  In the days that followed, while I lay still weak and helpless, bothFord and Reggie were active in their inquiries, but all in vain. Icalled in the solicitor, Leighton, in consultation, but he could deviseno plan other than to advertise, yet to do so was, we agreed, scarcelyfair to her.

  Curiously enough the dark-faced young woman, Dorothy Dawson, otherwiseDolly, also betrayed the keenest anxiety for Mabel's welfare. Hermother was Italian, and she spoke English with a slight accent, havingalways, she said, lived in Italy. Indeed, she called upon me once toexpress her regret at my illness, and I found that she really improvedon acquaintance. Her apparent coarseness was only on account of hermixed nationality, and although she was a shrewd young person possessedof all the subtle Italian cunning, Reggie, I think, found her a brightand amusing companion.

  All my thoughts were, however, of my sweet lost love, and of thatcommon, arrogant fellow who, by his threats and taunts, held her soirresistibly and secretly in his power.

  Why had she fled in terror from me, and why had such a dastardly andingenious attempt been made to kill me?

  I had solved the secret of the cipher only to be plunged still deeperinto the mazes of doubt, despair and mystery, for what the closed bookof the future held for me, was as you will see, truly startling andbewildering.

  The truth when revealed was hard, solid fact, and yet so strange andamazing was it that it staggered all belief.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  CONTAINS A TERRIBLE DISCLOSURE.

  Many long and dreary weeks had passed before I had sufficientlyrecovered to leave the house, and, accompanied by Reggie, take my firstdrive.

  It was mid April, the weather was still cold, and gay London had not yetreturned from wintering in Monte Carlo, Cairo or Rome. Each year thesociety swallows, those people who fly south with the first chill day ofautumn, return to town later, and each London season appears to be moreprotracted than before.

  We drove down Piccadilly to Hyde Park Corner, and then, turning alongConstitution Hill, drove along the Mall. Here a great desire seized meto rest for a brief while and enjoy the air in St. James's Park;therefore we alighted, paid the cabman, and, leaning upon Reggie's arm,I strolled slowly along the gravelled walks until we found a convenientseat. The glories of St. James's Park, even on an April day, are a joyfor ever to the true Londoners. I often wonder that so few people takeadvantage of them. The wondrous trees, the delicious sheet of water,all the beauties of English rural scenery, and then the sense that allaround you are the great palaces and departments, and offices in whichthe government of our great Empire is carried on--in other words, thatcommingling of silence at the core of feverish and tumultuous lifeoutside--all these make St. James's Park one of the loveliest retreatsin England.

  These things Reggie and I repeated to each other, and then, under thesoothing influence of the surroundings, there came musings andreminiscences and the long silences which come between friends and arethe best symbols of their complete accord of feeling and opinion.

  While we were thus seated I became conscious of the fact that we were inthe spot above all others where one was certain to see pass, at thattime of day most of the prominent political figures of the hour on theirway to their various Departments, or to Parliament where the sitting wasjust commencing. A Cabinet Minister, two Liberal peers, a Conservativewhip, and an Under-secretary passed in rapid succession away in thedirection of Storey's Gate.

  Reggie, who took a great interest in politics, and had often occupied aseat in the Strangers' Gallery, was pointing out to me the politicianswho passed, but my thoughts were elsewhere--with my lost love. Now thatMrs. Percival had revealed to me the truth of Mabel's affection I sawhow foolish I had been in making pretence of a coldness towards her thatwas the very opposite to the feeling which really existed in my heart.I had been a fool, and had now to suffer.

  During the weeks I had been confined to my room I had obtained aquantity of books, and discovered certain facts concerning the lateCardinal who had divulged the secret--whatever it was--in return for hisrelease. It appeared that Andrea Sannini was a native of Perugia, whobecame Archbishop of Bologna, and was afterwards given the Cardinal'shat. A great favourite of Pius IX, he was employed by him upon manydelicate missions to the various Powers. As a diplomatist he provedhimself possessed of remarkable acumen, therefore the Pope appointed himtreasurer-general, as well as director of the world-famous museums andgalleries of the Vatican. He was, it appeared, one of the most powerfuland distinguished figures in the College of Cardinals, and becameextremely prominent for the part he played on the occasion of the entryof the Italian troops into the Eternal City in 1870, while on the deathof Pius IX, eight years later, he was believed to be designated as hissuccessor, although on election the choice fell upon his colleague, thelate Cardinal Pecci, who became Leo XIII.

  I was reflecting upon these facts which I had established after a gooddeal of heavy reading, when Reggie suddenly cried in a low voice,--

  "Why, look! there's Dawson's daughter walking with a man!"

  I glanced quickly in the direction indicated and saw, crossing thebridge that spanned the lake and approaching in our direction, awell-dressed female figure in a smart jacket of caracul and neat toque,accompanied by a tall thin man in black.

  Dolly Dawson was walking at his side leisurely, chatting and laughing,while he ever and anon bent towards her making some remarks. As heraised his head to glance across the water I saw that above his overcoatshowed a clerical collar with a tiny piece of Roman purple. The man wasevidently a canon or other dignitary of the Catholic Church.

  He was about fifty-five, grey-haired, clean-shaven and wore a sil
k hatof a somewhat ecclesiastical shape, a rather pleasant-looking man inspite of his thin sensitive lips and pale ascetic face.

  In an instant it struck me that they had met clandestinely and weresauntering there in order to avoid possible recognition if they walkedthe streets. The old priest appeared to be treating her with studiedpoliteness, and as I watched him I saw from his slight gesticulations ashe spoke that he was no doubt a foreigner.

  I pointed out the fact to Reggie, who said--"We must watch them, oldchap. They mustn't see us here. I only hope they'll turn off the otherway."

  For a moment we followed them with our eyes, fearing that, havingcrossed the bridge, they would turn in our direction, but fortunatelythey did not, but turned off to the right along the shore of the lake.

  "If he really is Italian then he may have come specially from Italy tohave an