CHAPTER XIII.
"How Kristel and Avicia first met is soon explained. Her aunt, who wasthe only sister of her father, the keeper of the lighthouse, laydying, as she believed, in a small hamlet in the Tyrol, and hadwritten to her brother to allow Avicia to come to her. Avicia'sfather, a morose, avaricious man, had the idea that his sisterpossessed some treasure in money which, upon her death, should be his,and which would be lost were he or Avicia not with her when she died.His duties would not permit him to leave the lighthouse, therefore hesent Avicia to his sister, with careful instructions how to act. In noother circumstances would he have consented that his daughter shouldleave him, even for a short time, but the temptation was too strong tobe resisted. To Avicia it was a trial to quit the strange place inwhich she had been born, and in which she had passed her life, but sheobeyed her father's commands, and it was in the Tyrol that Kristelfirst came across her. Fascinated by her beauty he paid her markedattentions, and during the three weeks she remained with her aunt(who, instead of dying, recovered her health almost immediately uponthe arrival of her niece) the young people were constantly together.What kind of encouragement Avicia gave Kristel I am not in a positionto say. That he loved her with all the strength of his heart and soulis certain, and it could not but be that she was flattered by theadulation of a young man so handsome and well-born as Kristel. Despitethe difference in their stations he wooed her honourably, and she,simple and unsophisticated, knew not how to reply. Kristel could notmarry without his father's consent, and so he told her; and she,enlightened by this avowal as to the right course for her to pursue,told him that she could not marry without _her_ father's consent.
"'Then write to him,' said Kristel, 'and when he replies, and youpromise to be my wife, I will write home and avow my love.'
"She wrote as he desired, and at the same time informed her fatherthat her aunt had recovered her health and needed her no longer. It ismy opinion that Avicia must have written in such terms concerningKristel as to have inspired in the father's heart a doubt whether theyoung gentleman's wooing was prompted by honourable intentions. Thereare two other possible interpretations of the course he pursued: one,that he had no desire to part from his daughter; the other, that hebelieved it likely he might make some sort of bargain, to his ownadvantage, with a man presumably rich who had become enamoured ofAvicia's beauty.
"'Come back instantly,' the keeper of the lighthouse wrote to Avicia,in reply to her letter, 'come back within an hour of your readingthese lines. Sleep not another night in your false aunt's house; sheonly sent for you to fool you. As for this young gallant of whom youwrite, if he is honest, and rich, and reasonable, let him seek you inyour father's home. Beware that he is not also fooling you. I doubt mywisdom in sending one so simple as yourself into a false world. Obeyme. Come back without an hour's delay.'
"Frank and unsuspicious, Avicia showed this letter to Kristel.
"'Your father suspects me,' he said. 'I will come and seek you themoment I am free.'
"Being set free by his father's death, he redeemed his promise. Thusit was that they met again.
"I set myself to the study of Avicia's character; I wished toascertain whether she was a coquette. What I learned filled me withadmiration. She was a child of nature; ingenuous and modest, with nodesire to make a traffic of her beauty in the way of winning men'shearts. She did not win mine as a lover, but she won my esteem as afriend.
"Needless to say we did not leave the village; indeed, we took uppermanent quarters there. Observing Kristel and Silvain when they werewith Avicia, I foresaw a storm--a storm all the more terrible andsignificant because of the peculiar ties of sympathy by which thebrothers were bound to each other. They bought a boat, and took intotheir service two men of the village, to row them to and fro. Not afine day passed without their visiting the lighthouse, and after atime they seldom went empty-handed. At first they were unsuspicious ofeach other, but presently I intercepted glances, the meaning of whichit was impossible to me--an observer who wished them well and was notlikely to interfere with their heart's dearest wish--to misunderstand.Love had found its place--and jealousy also. As for Avicia she made noconspicuous sign. How was it to end. With fear I asked this questionof myself.
"Of the two I distrusted Kristel the more. Of the two I had more dreadof him than of Silvain. Not divining to which of the brothers Avicia'sheart was truly drawn, believing that her faithful love could be wonby either were the other away, I devised a plan--which proved to be atrap into which I myself was to fall.
"I intercept the course of my narrative at this point by mentioningsomething which should have been mentioned earlier. Baldwin was thename by which Avicia's father was known. I have told you he was anavaricious man. He was something more than this--he was a designingman, and he played one brother against the other. They grew, as I havesaid, into the habit of taking presents with them when they visitedthe lighthouse, presents of wine and food and flowers. The wine andfood were acceptable to Avicia's father, the flowers he despised.
"'But,' said Kristel to him, 'the flowers are for Avicia.'
"'Exactly,' said Baldwin, 'but were I a young man, and rich, and madepresents to a young girl, they should not always be flowers which fadein a day, and are flung into the sea. I should think of things moresubstantial, things that would last and would always retain theirvalue.'
"Upon this hint they were not slow to act. They sent letters todistant towns; they made secret visits to places not so far away as tonecessitate their absence for not longer than twenty-four hours, andarmed with ornaments and jewels they made their appearance at thelighthouse, and presented them to Avicia. She wore none of them; herfather took possession of them, with the remark, 'It would beunbecoming for a single girl to display these gewgaws upon her neckand arms. By and by, when she is a married woman, then will be thetime, if other things are in keeping. Meanwhile, I am a safecustodian--and mark you,' he added, with an emphasis which caused meto regard him with abhorrence (for I was present when he said it), 'mydaughter has been taught to obey me. My will is her law.'
"They saw not the meaning of the cunning words; I, cooler and morecollected, with no blinding, passionate thrills in my pulses, wasgifted with a keener insight. I made one slight, impotent attempt toopen their eyes, but the manner in which I was met warned me not torepeat it if I wished to be of service to them, and to avert acalamity. He was Avicia's father, and, as such, incapable in theirjudgment of a mean or sordid act.
"Now for the trap I set, into which I was the only one to fall. I hadreally, with the best wisdom at my command, reviewed and studied thelamentable position of affairs, and it appeared to me a necessity thatone of the brothers must suffer. If he suffered without guilt upon hissoul, it would be the be-all and the end-all of the torture. Hissuffering would be his own, and would not bring misery upon others.And in the light of the inevitable, his honourable feelings and thepromptings of conscience--to which I believed both Silvain and Kristelto be amenable--would assist him to bear it in silence, however bitterand poignant it might be. I decided that Silvain was the better able,upon moral grounds, to bear the suffering, although, had it devolvedupon me to deliberately contribute to the happiness of only one of thebrothers, my choice would have fallen upon Silvain. My scheme was toendeavour to take him from this scene of silent, agonising contentionof love. Upon his return he would find matters so far advanced that hewould be deterred from advancing another step towards Avicia.
"I opened the matter privately with Silvain.
"'I am called away from you,' I said to him, 'and shall be absent forthree or four months.'
"'I am sorry to hear it,' said Silvain. 'Is it imperative?'
"'Yes,' I said, 'it is imperative.'
"'I do not ask you upon what errand you are compelled to leave us,'said Silvain, 'because if the matter were not as private as it isurgent, I think you would confide in me voluntarily. Unhappily,' headded, with a sigh, 'we all have secrets which it is incumbent u
pon usto conceal even from our dearest friends.'
"I understood the allusion, and my heart bled for him.
"'Silvain,' I said, 'I have grown so accustomed to your society, andif you will forgive me the confession, have grown so to love you, thatI shall feel inexpressibly lonely and unhappy without you. Why notaccompany me?'
"There was a sad surprise in his eyes as he answered,
"'If it were possible, it would afford me great pleasure. But it isnot possible.'
"'Why not?'
"'Do not ask me; you would not understand.'
"'Is it really necessary you should stay here?'
"'Vitally necessary. To leave would snap my heart-strings. I shoulddie.'
"'Silvain,' I said, with all my earnestness, 'sometimes in a man'slife there comes a crisis----'
"He stopped me with a firmness and decision which were unanswerable.
"'I do not, I must not seek to know your meaning. Surely you can seethat I am suffering. All would be dark, but for the light of one starwhich illumines the world for me. Not another word. You say you loveme. If your love is sincere, you will spare me.'
"'It is because my love is sincere,' I urged, 'that I would give muchif I could prevail upon you.'
"But he broke from me and would listen no further.
"'Next I tried Kristel, and found him, as I feared and expected,obdurate and violent. In the interval which elapsed between myspeaking to Silvain and Kristel, all the village knew that I was aboutto leave, and the fishermen, and their wives and children, with whom Ihad become a general favourite, freely expressed their regret at theprospect of losing me.
"'But I am coming back,' I said with an attempt at gaiety.
"They expressed their joy at hearing this. There was no retreat opento me. Had I manufactured an excuse for staying, I felt that I shouldhave been looked upon with suspicion by Kristel and Silvain. In thatcase, my possible usefulness would be destroyed, and I could neverregain the position of confidence I had gained with them. Therefore Ibade them farewell, and much distressed and disturbed took mydeparture.
"I returned at the end of three weeks, the shortest limit I had setupon my absence. I had written to Kristel and Silvain, announcing myreturn and expected to be greeted by them upon my arrival. To mydisappointment I saw nothing of them, and upon inquiring for them, Iwas informed that they had gone from the village.
"'Gone!' I cried.
"'Yes,' was the answer, 'disappeared.'
"That was all the satisfaction I obtained from the men in the village,my inquiries being at first confined to them. As a rule, they were notgiven to tittle-tattle, and accounted it a virtue to hold theirtongues. Most of the women followed the lead of the men in thisrespect, but there were a few gossips among them, and I sought out themost garrulous of the class, who was generously discursive andcommunicative. She was an old woman whose name I have forgotten, andshe tardily enlightened me--to my sorrow and dismay. She commenced ina roundabout fashion.
"'You see, sir,' the old soul said, 'there's no telling what there isin man or woman till they are set loose. Tie a young girl up, keep herfrom mixing with folk, and prevent her from making friends, andfrolicking a bit in a harmless way, with girls and boys of her ownage, and likely as not mischief will come of it. Not that I believethere's any harm in her.'
"'In her!' I exclaimed. 'In whom?'
"'In Avicia, of course. I don't say it's her fault, but beauty's asnare. You see, sir, she was brought up wrong. 'Twas not her fault buther misfortune that her mother died when she was a little one--toolittle to remember anything of her who suckled her. Then said we toher father, the keeper of the lighthouse, "You and a babe are not amatch. Being a man, you are an ignoramus in the ways of a child, whohasn't yet learnt to prattle. Let her come among us, and we will rearher for you, and make a bright woman of her." For even then, young asshe was, we women knew that she was going to grow up beautiful. Menthink all babes alike, but we know better. Avicia's father would nothave it so. "My child shall not leave my side," said he. "She will bebetter off without a parcel of women about her." We settled it amongourselves that he was too mean and stingy to do as we wanted, thinkingit would cost him something. He's a rare close-fisted man is Baldwin,and fairly dotes on gold--though, as he declares he will live and dieon the lighthouse, it's hard to say what good all the gold in theworld could do him. We offered to take the babe for nothing, but eventhat he wouldn't listen to, being suspicious that we had designs onhim. So Avicia was left with him, and he brought her up in his lonelyhome, in which no child but his own has ever set foot. Give thedevil his due--which isn't saying much, for if you don't give it himhe'll be quick enough in taking it, and a bit over if he's got thechance--Baldwin didn't let Avicia grow in ignorance; he taught heruseless things, such as reading and writing, and perhaps the childdidn't miss much, in her own reckoning, by not mixing with us. Anyhow,there she was, a maid as beautiful as can be found, sea-born andsea-bred, fit for a lighthouse and for nothing else. That didn't standin the way of the young men in the village falling in love with her,but she would have nothing to say to one of them, and as they receivedno encouragement from her father to woo her, they let her alone. Ourmen are not of the sort to go puking and sighing over a woman. It's afair match when they come together, and the men don't always get thebest of it. We take care of that. But when you and your gentlemenfriends came among us--and you're likely men the three of you--we sawhow the cat jumped. There was a fat fish to hook, and Baldwin setabout it. Let him alone for setting a line--but it can't be deniedthat he'd a rare bait at the end of it. "Which one is it?" asked we ofone another when we were talking about it. None of us could decide. Wehad only two to guess one from, for we saw that _you_ weren't beingfished for, and still we couldn't decide whether it was Master Silvainor Master Kristel. They were both mad in love with her pretty face,and, being brothers, we thought it a pity, for love is like a poison.However, it was for them to settle it, and settled it is, one way oranother.'
"'How?' I asked, in a whirl of apprehension.
"'That,' replied the old woman, 'is what we're waiting to find out.'
"'It is true that my friends have left the village, is it not?'
"'There's nothing truer.'
"I saw that she had not imparted to me all she knew, and that she wasenjoying herself at my expense by doling it slowly out. My mood wastoo impatient for crumbs, and I said, if she were not more swiftlycommunicative, that I would go immediately to the lighthouse, where Icould doubtless obtain from Avicia information of the movements ofSilvain and Kristel. The old woman laughed, and said I must seekelsewhere for Avicia.
"'I thought I told you,' she said, 'that Avicia had also disappeared.Be a little patient, and you will know everything. You're lucky, forI'm the only one in the village that can tell you things.'
"I had no choice; I was compelled to be patient, and, related in myown words, this is what I learnt:
"After my departure the wooing of Kristel and Silvain had become morefierce, and they were aware that they were rivals. It may or may nothave been that Avicia had given and confessed her love to one of thebrothers, but upon this point there was not even the evidence ofhearsay, and my perplexity and distress were the greater because of myignorance. Avicia came more frequently from the lighthouse to thevillage, and always in the company of both Kristel and Silvain. Thesevisits were made during the day, and in the evening the brothers,having dispensed with the service of the boatmen they had engaged,were in the habit of rowing Avicia home. One night, upon the return ofSilvain and Kristel to the village, the old woman from whom I obtainedthese particulars overheard them conversing. She was unable to fix theidentity of each speaker, for the night was dark, and she could notdistinguish the voices as coming from either the one or the other. Icould well excuse her for this, because, if I had been in her place,and concealed as she was, I myself should have been in doubt of theparticular speaker who, for the moment, engaged my attention. This iswhat she overheard:
"'It is ti
me to put an end to this. I have suffered in silence toolong, and I can no longer bear my sufferings. Why do you bar my pathto happiness?'
"'Why do you bar mine? I love Avicia.'
"'I also love her.'
"'You have concealed it from me.'
"'Have you not done the same by me?'
"'How, then, could I suspect that you were my rival?'
"'How could I?'
"'You madden me by your retorts. Can you not understand that you aredriving me to desperation? She is the light of my life!'
"'And of mine!'
"That was all she heard. They moved away out of sight, and she wasafraid to follow.
"Two days before my return to the village, Avicia, Kristel, andSilvain rowed, as usual, from the lighthouse to the shore. They wereaccompanied on this occasion by Avicia's father, who had engaged anexperienced man to take his place on the lighthouse during hisabsence. It was a breach of duty, but he risked it. The sea was calmand the weather fine, and likely to remain so. The risk, therefore,was not great.
"How they passed the day was not known. They did not mingle with theinhabitants of the village, who, without invitation, were not likelyto obtrude upon them, their own concerns being quite sufficient tooccupy their attention. What _was_ known was, that the father,daughter, and the twin-brothers passed out of the village, and thatthere appeared to be some kind of awkwardness and constraint uponthem, the precise nature of which was not discernible; and that atsunset Avicia's father came back alone, and rowed himself to thelighthouse. From that moment nothing more had been seen of the youngpeople.
"What had become of them? Whither had they gone? It appeared to methat Avicia's father was the only person who could allay my anxiety,and to him I went on the following day. He received me civilly enough,but I learnt little from him.
"'If you come to me,' he said, 'to pry into my daughter'sconcerns--which are mine--I say they are none of yours. You are littlemore than a stranger to me, and I have no business with you, anddesire none. If you come to ascertain where you can find your friends,you will learn nothing from me. As to one, perhaps it is in my powerto tell you, but I do not choose to gratify you. As to the other,perhaps you are as likely to light upon him as I am.'
"During my visit I kept myself on the alert to discover some trace ofAvicia, for it might be that the villagers were mistaken in their ideathat she had disappeared at the same time as Silvain and Kristel. Shemight have returned in the middle of the night when all the villagewas asleep. I saw no signs of her, however, and when I left thelighthouse I was confident that she was not there.
"I was at a loss what to do. There was absolutely no clue to direct meto my friends, and my anxiety became almost unbearable. I madeinquiries in neighbouring villages and towns, and I employed men tosearch for them--but all was of no avail. At the end of a couple ofmonths I was not a whit the wiser. To remain any longer in the villagewould have been folly, and it was with pain and reluctance that I badethe simple inhabitants farewell. They expressed a hope that they wouldsee me again, and I promised to pay them another visit before twelvemonths had passed. It was a promise not lightly given, and it was myintention to perform it. I argued with myself that Avicia was certainto return at some time within the period I have mentioned, and that,directly or indirectly, I should succeed in renewing my acquaintancewith Silvain. That she was married to one of the brothers was in myview an established fact, but I found it impossible to decide uponwhich of them her choice had fallen. Bearing in mind the absorbinglove which both had entertained for her, I shuddered to think of theconsequences that might ensue from despair and jealousy.
"Before I left the village to resume my travels I went to thelighthouse to see Avicia's father, to acquaint him with my impendingdeparture. He seemed to me restless and uneasy, and threw out vaguehints of having been deceived, and of promises broken by those whoowed him love and duty. Taking advantage of these hints I pressed himclosely, but he surlily refused to give me the least information.
"'It can surely do you no harm,' I urged, 'to tell me to whom yourdaughter is married.'
"'If I come face to face with the man who says the contrary,' hecried, 'he will not live to repeat the lie.'
"He had misunderstood my question, and thought I intended to cast adoubt upon his daughter's good name. Having assured him that I had nosuch intention, and pacified him, I repeated my question.
"'Find out for yourself,' he said morosely, 'for the fortieth time,you will learn nothing from me.'
"Why he should have been so persistently and unnecessarily brutalpuzzled me. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to me. Baldwin wasavaricious and a miser. He loved gold; it was as precious to him ashis life's blood.
"I took my purse from my pocket, and emptied several gold pieces intothe palm of my hand. A hissing sound escaped from between his closedteeth, and his eyes were fixed upon the money greedily, and then uponme ferociously.
"I laughed lightly and disdainfully. I made a motion of my headtowards the boat which was moored to a staple in the outer wall of thelighthouse. Two fishermen were in the boat, waiting to row me back tothe village.
"'If I do not go to them soon,' I said, 'they will come and seek me.'
"'What do you mean by that?' he asked, with a dark frown on his face.
"'You decline to answer my questions,' I replied, 'and I decline toanswer yours. But I can do what you would be unwilling to do.'
"'What is that?'
"'I can pay for information. Ten of these gold pieces are yours, ifyou tell me truly to whom your daughter is married.'
"'Give me the money.'
"I gave him the gold, and he bit the coins singly with his strongteeth. Then he said, 'She is married to Silvain.'
"'Heaven pity him,' I said, preparing to descend, 'for such afather-in-law.'
"'He needs no pity,' retorted Baldwin, 'he has Avicia.'
"As we rowed to land I kept my face towards the lighthouse, and saw,with my mind's eye, the image of the beautiful girl, as I had seen herfor the first time, standing on the topmost gallery, with herluxuriant hair hanging loose, and the scarlet covering on her head. Inthe lives of Kristel and Silvain the lovely vision was the embodimentof a terrible fate. Red lips parted, white teeth gleaming, wistfuleyes gazing, a face of bewitching beauty and innocence---- Andsuddenly the vision grew indistinct in a mass of whirling clouds,which in my fevered fancy became pregnant with angry passions. Idashed my hand across my eyes.
"'Steady, sir,' said the rowers, as their boat grated on the beach.
"Before night fell I was far away."
END OF VOL. I.
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LONDON AND BUNGAY.
A Secret Inheritance (Volume 1 of 3) Page 13