A lapse of memory, and other stories

Contents

A I/APSE OF Memory (Part I)

A lyAPSE OF Memory (Part II)

Reported Kihed

Chapter I

"What is wrong?" the young man asked hurriedly, putting his head out of the carriage window as the conveyance came suddenly to a standstill.

The driver had pulled his steaming horses almost on their flanks, and then sat listening with close attention to some distant sound. The evening was advanced, and they had been driving rapidly along the lonely high-road in the hope of reaching their destination ere it got late. For a moment there was no reply, and he impatiently repeated his enquiry. The man responded slowly in the French dialect, as spoken by the people in the South of France.

"A carriage was travelling ahead of us some time ago. Monsieur. I hear no more the sound of distant wheels. I stopped because I heard a cry. And I desired to listen."

"Drive on!" said Herbert Lisle, with undiminished impatience. "If anything is wrong, we will find it out the sooner by being on the spot."

Jacques drove on along the dusky road, and soon they came in sight of a confused mass of dark objects struggling on the ground. A carriage had been upset, and the horses were entangled in the reins and traces. A light moved hither and thither like a will-o '-the-wisp.

Descending from the vehicle. Lisle advanced with hasty steps. He heard a voice crying faintly for help, and went over to the door of the upset conveyance. Opening it with some difficulty, he found inside a woman, and another — apparently lifeless — form.

"Help me!" a girl's voice cried in English, in accents of alarm. "My grandfather is hurt — ^he does not move or speak!"

"Do not worry!" Lisle responded cheerily. "We will do all we can for you."

As he spoke he helped her out. With Jacques' help he got the unconscious man out of the broken carriage, and laid him on the turf. They carefully examined him by the light of a carriage

A LAPSE OF MEMORY. H

lamp. As the uncertain light fell fliekeringly on his face the girl made a quick movement forward. Kneeling by him, she bent over him with deep anxiety, and Lisle produced his brandy flask and handed it to her. At length the old man unclosed his eyes with a deep sigh, a look of terror, and of intense pain.

"Where are you hurt?" Lisle questioned anxiously. "Tell me, that I may try to ease your sufferings."

For a moment the old man tried in vain to speak. At last, with supreme effort, he . uttered brokenly a few disjointed murmured syllables. But they could only catch the few words : —

' ' Papers — packet — business to-night ' '

The harsh strange voice trailed off in broken murmurs, and his meaning passed them by. He saw that he was not understood. With an imploring look upward at the girl, one last vain and anguished effort to articulate, he gave a painful gasp for breath, and relapsed once more into a merciful oblivion; though there were signs that he was still alive.

The girl turned up her face appealingly to Lisle, with unconcealed anxiety depicted in her look.

"I v,'ill take you on with me," he said quickly, answering her look. ' ' There is still a mile or so to go before we can reach the nearest house."

"Oh, please make haste!" she answered nervously, with a hard effort to control herself.

Lisle called to Jacques, who had been helping the coachman with his horses, and they lifted the old man into the carriage as gently as might be. Then they went on as fast as possible.

There was much stir and bustle at the house, where they at length arrived. Word went quickly round from mouth to mouth of an accident on the road. A room was soon made ready, and a doctor called in to attend the sufferer. Meantime Lisle took the girl apart.

As he was returning to rejoin the doctor, that gentleman came forth from the sick-room, gently closing the door behind him. He beckoned Lisle aside in the ill-lighted passage.

' ' ' Mon Dieu ! ' It is not much I can do for him. It is a question of time. But one must not lose hope."

"As long as there is life, there is hope!" said Lisle. "Is he badly injured?"

"But yes. He probably received some shock in the break-down."

'Can you say how he is hurt?"

"He has no external injury. At his age, this must have long been hanging over him. 'Mon Di^!' The wonder is it had held off so long. ' '

"What is the nature of his injury?"

" 'Mon ami,' he was old, and very frail. Too old and fpehle to withstand the shock. The old man's heart is very very weak."

"How long before "

Lisle hesitated painfully, unable to finish the sentence on his lips.

" 'Hon ami,' it is impossible to say. His heart, it is worn out. A few weeks or days. Perhaps but a few hours. What would you? The latter were more merciful."

"Is anyone attending him?"

"Yes. I have left a nurse with him. Keep the young girl away from him , to-night. I will see the patient later. But one must be reasonable. It is little I can do."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, and turned hurriedly to go. Lisle returned to the dimly-lighted room, where the girl sat anxiously awaiting him.

"We can do nothing more to-night," he said. "A room has been prepared for you."

14 A LAPSE OF MBMOKT.

"Oh, I cannot sleep," she answered drearily. "I must be with my grandfather."

"The doctor has forbidden it. He has a nurse. It is late ; they have all gone to bed. ' '

She looked at him with quivering lips, without reply.

"I will do all I can, rely on me. My name is Herbert Lisle. May I ask yours ? ' * "My name is Stella Verne."

The young man thought it suited her refined, well-bred appearance. Her slightly-foreign accent gave her speech a touch of charm.

"Mr. Lisle, there is a favour I must ask of you," Miss Verne said urgently. "Will you secure my grandfather 's private papers ? ' '

"I have already seen to that. I will give them to you first thing in the morning."

"Thank you!" Miss Verne said gratefully, with a shy glance of gratitude from soft dark eyes that matched with her pretty hair.

She turned to follow the woman who had come to fetch her to her room.

Early next day Lisle met the doctor leaving, and learnt from him that Mr. Verne was still in the same state. Miss Verne was with him now.

"Take her out in the fresh air," the doctor said. "She can do no good in there. I have already said it. The old man is too ill to speak. He does not rightly know her."

At Lisle 's request Miss Verne soon joined him in a private room. She looked pale and spiritless. Drawing a chair up to a table for her, he brought forth her grandfather's papers, silently placing them before her on the table. She pushed them from her with an impatient gesture.

"This, then, was the terror that was hanging over him," she said unsteadily. "He hinted at it to me on our way. He visited a doctor in the city, just before we left."

She paused, with much emotion.

"There was some urgent private business my grandfather meant to execute," Miss Verne went on, "when he insisted on hurrying on at night; and meeting with this accident on the road, he got the shock which caused, or hastened on, his illness."

"May I ask Avhere you were going?"

"I do not know myself. Grandfather did not tell me. I think he had directions to find out some stranger here on a matter of business."

"What are your grounds for this belief!"

"Some talk that passed between us on our journey. I begged him not to hurry — ^he was looking ill. I entreated him to rest. 'No,' he said, impatiently, 'I must go on to-night. You do not know the importance of my business, my poor Stella. Do not try to stay me. I must not lose time — it may be all too short at best,' he added with repressed, but strangely-impotent yearning in his trembling tones and in his face. 'It would only make a difference of a few hours,' I said. 'There is a man whom I must see to-night, ' was his reply. 'Stella ! there is a terror hanging over me — each moment brings it nearer — I must see this man before it falls on me.' "

Miss Verne turned to the papers now. Lisle waited patiently whilst she examined them. After a careful, long inspection of them, she looked up at him with a deeply-perplexed, surprised expression on her face.

"There are seemingly no signs," she said, "by which I can learn this urgent business."

Lisle sat hesitating, drumming on the table with his fingers.

"If I might offer you my help," he said at last.

She turned to him at once, and, without remark, returned the papers to him.

"Am I to look at these?" he questioned quietly.

She inclined her head assentingly. "I can trust you, Mr. Lisle."

Lisle felt real pleasure at her tone of implied confidence in him. It made his task, self -undertaken as it was, so much the easier for both of them, he thought. He proceeded to examine the documents.

Mr. Verne has about one hundred pounds in bank-notes here. But apparently no personal letters, or anything to guide us — ^no address of any kind to give us a possible clue."

"My grandfather had a habit," said Miss Verne perplexedly, "of destroying all the letters he received, when he had answered them — though, indeed, they were but few. And I do not know his business in this, or any other, country. Or even his intentions with regard to me."

Lisle sat silent, pondering. Then he turned to her again.

"May I take the liberty of asking you some questions?"

"Ask me anything you wish," she returned despairingly; "for you are my only friend."

"Then tell me all you can about yourself and Mr. Verne."

"I have not much to tell," she answered, with a dreary little sigh. "I know next to nothing of myself. I was brought up in England in a quiet country-house, educated by the cultured lady in whose charge I was. Our home was isolated; ^we lived a retired life ; I made no friends. Of my parents I know nothing. It was a topic which my grandfather would not at any time discuss with me. He lived on the Continent till Mrs. Thorburn died, when he came to take me back with him. We spent our time in travelling from place to place. Grandfather was extremely quiet and taciturn with me. He had been so accustomed to an independent, solitary life, that he never seemed to get quite used to me as his companion."

"He kept you, then, in ignorance of your own life affairs?"

"In complete ignorance."

"Incomprehensible and strange, it seems to me. This bulky, heavily-sealed packet might perhaps contain the clue to the mystery."

"It is addressed to someone, seemingly," Miss Verne objected. "We have no right to open that."

"It is merely marked 'Mr. C.,' " said Lisle. ' ' That, I think, is merely a note for your grandfather himself. And it does not assist us."

He paused, frowning thoughtfully. He was refleeting to himself with deep dissatisfaction as he turned the packet over in his hands;

"As it is so heavily sealed, no doubt it contains some treasure of great value."

As Lisle spoke, by chance he turned his head towards the open window. To his astonishment, he gazed straight into the eyes belonging to the pale and evil-looking face of a man who had apparently been for some time closely watching them from without; half-concealed by the flowering creeper growing there. With a quick and greedy glance at the packet in Lisle 's hands, the man's face disappeared, just as Miss Verne, who sat with her back to the window, turned, surprised, to see what Lisle was so intently gazing at.

"Some inquisitive serving-man," he said carelessly; and thought no more of it.

He became immersed in speculative thought. His faint hope had grown fainter with each answer, and at last it died away. He could only grasp the fact that Miss Verne was friendless, and, so far as he could see, not specially fltted to cope alone with the world. He now began to feel uneasy for her near future, and to think he was in some measure responsible for helping her. But he had time to spare, and determined to remain until he had seen her safely through her troubles.

Chapter II

"Monsieur Verne does not improve in health," the doctor said one day to Lisle. " 'Bh bien,' it is understood. He is beyond my skill. I^ entertain the gravest doubts of his recovery. Also, of his chance of living long."

"I have made all possible inquiries in the neighbourhood," Lisle responded anxiously, "to discover if he was expected by any person here. But I can learn nothing further. Mr. Verne is apparently unknown to any of the people here. Doctor ! I am perplexed as to what course we can pursue to help Miss Verne, if he should die."

The old doctor turned and looked at him with a perplexed expression.

"Is it possible that Monsieur does not know? Already have the people been busy with their tongues. You have been much with Mademoiselle. If Monsieur Verne should die "

He paused here meaningly. Lisle started, and looked at him with surprised concern.

"You are already interested in Mademoiselle?" the doctor suggested shrewdly, with a slight smile.

Then, after a pause, during which his eyes were not unkindly fixed upon Lisle 's brooding face, he added with slow emphasis

" 'Men ami,' why not marry? Me, I would solve the problem thus. And for the benefit of Mademoiselle. It is of fortune good you should be here. She will not be alone — is it not? 'Mon ami,' you hesitate. It is of compliment the highest. And it now is necessary. You are a man of honour. You will silence the busy tongues. Me, I would not hesitate in such a ease."

Lisle still looked disturbed as the possibility was thus pressed on him.

"Ah! you English people — you are slow. You have the British phlegm," the little doctor said resignedly. "I should go into a rapture. Mademoiselle is of appearance charming. 'Dieu,' what eyes and hair. And of complexion perfect. One should appreciate. Monsieur permits that I advise him in the matter? But yes, it would certainly be best to make the marriage, for the sake of Mademoiselle ! ' '

Lisle continued to look thoughtfully at his animated face, but still without reply.

"It is well it were done soon," said the fussy little doctor finally, as lie went off. "The suffering old man will not last long. No. My skill can do no more for him."

Lisle suggested later to Miss Verne that they should take a stroll in the fresh air. It was a lovely morning for a walk. As they came out together, flocks of cooing pigeons and white doves preened their plumage on the roofs, or were flying gaily about in the warm golden sunshine, and fluttering round the gables. A saddled horse was leisurely drinking at a wooden trough by the roadside, with a boy upon its back, and a dog or two lay blinking lazily near by in the warm sun.

The youngster turned his head to gaze at them, a look of curiosity in his round eyes. Two women standing at an open door across the road were whispering together, glancing at them as they passed. Stella passed on unconscious of their meaning looks, but the colour rose hotly to Lisle 's brown cheek. He turned his burning face away from his companion.

They had gone some way before he broke the silence

"Miss Verne, I asked you to come out with me that I might talk with you quite free from interruption." After pausing a moment in embarrassment, he added, ' ' Stella, will you marry me ? "

A LAPSE OF MEMOltr. 23

The girl started, much astonished, flushing vividly, and looking at him in bewilderment. The idea of what lay in his mind had not occurred to her. He answered her wondering look by taking her hand in his. His own embarrassment had left him now at sight of hers.

"I must speak plainly to you, Stella. Forgive me if I seem cruel or abrupt. Tour grandfather cannot recover — ^he is actually dying now. The doctor tells me that there is no hope for him. I ask for the right to protect you. I wish to marry you, and take you to my home."

She did not answer him. She had not withdrawn her hand from his clasp, however, and Lisle was glad of that.

"Do I hurry you unduly?" he asked pleadingly. "There is no other way. Here, you have no friend but me."

"I do not love you; and you cannot care for me," objected Stella, flushing, her eyes bent on the ground. ' ' You have not known me long. ' '

"But you like me, and I like you. We will soon learn to care for one another. The fact is, Stella, the people here are talking — I have it from the doctor — we must stop the busy tongues. For my sake, as well as yours, I ask this thing of you. On all accounts it is best for us to marry now."

"What about your friends?" she faltered doubtfully, an ever-deepening colour in her fresh cheeks.

"You have none," he answered quietly, "either to approve or interfere — ^no more have I."

"I do not know where to turn," she said uneasily, "or where to go. I have no claim on anyone."

"You have a claim on me! Can you trust me with your life and happiness?"

"I think I can," said Stella, shyly.

At this Lisle smiled, well pleased. He felt the protective instinct stirring in his breast.

"You must give me unquestioning trust," he exclaimed, with a masterfulness that was as sweet aa it was strange and new to him.

He impetuously possessed himself of both her hands, and drew her nearer to him.

"Promise always to have faith in me," he exclaimed, with a faiat touch of pre-vision in his soul that perhaps in the unknown future, a time might chance to come when he would be glad to claim of her the fulfilment of this promise.

"I promise," she responded timidly.

"Thank you, Stella."

I.isle vowed in his soul that she should have good cause to trust him ever.

Their wedding-day was shadowed. Even as they were returning to the house, a messenger met them hurriedly, to tell them that a sudden change for the worse had taken place whilst they were absent from the house, and Mr. Verne was dying. They pressed on as fast as possible, and hurried in. They were too late, however. Mr. Verne had passed away as they were entering.

A few days later Mr. and Mrs. Lisle were on their way to the town, whence they intended starting for their home.

The distance thither seemed greater than they had surmised, or else the driver had made some miscalculation of the time required for travelling. The evening was coming on apace, and they had long since passed the last available resting-place, when Jacques stopped suddenly.

"A portion of the harness has given way. Monsieur," he said anxiously in French, as he got down and examined it with a puzzled shake of his head. "It has been cut. The constant strain on it has done the rest."

He paused to look at it again. Once more he slowly shook his head.

"It is past the comprehension. It was uninjured when I put it on the horse. Monsieur sees the harness has not been much worn."

"Did you attend to it yourself?"

"Yes, Monsieur. One of the men approached when I mounted to the box. He tightened a strap or two. He said a buckle was undone. I am not apt to slur my work ! ' '

Jacques' nimble fingers, as he spoke, were working busily. He repaired the injured harness in a rough and ready fashion, but it was not well secured, and necessitated driving cautiously. Moreover, they had met with a fresh misfortune now. The horse had fallen lame. Since sundown, too, it had turned out an unexpectedly chilly evening, with a decided tendency to drizzle.

The driver stopped again, and got down stiffly, with slow tardiness, to light the lamps. He came in fresh dismay, to the near side of the carriage, to consult with Lisle.

"Monsieur, we must rest. The horse is lame. Monsieur sees he cannot make the pace. The harness is uncertain. Me, I can repair it. But I must have time and light. And I must take it off. Then the horse. Some trouble ails his shoe. It retards the progress. He stumbles at each step."

A LAPSE OF MEMOEY. 27

"How far distant is the nearest house?" Lisle questioned wearily.

"We could arrive at one. But no. It is late to make the demand for a night's rest." /

"Let us go there. Why do you hesitate! Drive on!" Lisle exclaimed impatiently.

"Monsieur would think of nothing, know nothing ! And this so dark night. But ah, the place. It is deserted. One must have the knowledge. To go there is not best."

He glanced uneasily across his shoulder, as he crossed himself, ere adding in a lower tone

"It has the evil name, Monsieur!"

"Nonsense!" Lisle exclaimed impatiently, with growing annoyance, as he thought of the uncomplaining weariness of his young wife. "It will at least be warmer there than'here," he said to Stella, "and we shall be under shelter for the night."

"No slight consideration, when there is a storm at hand," said Stella. "Anything is better than standing still in this increasing chilly drizzle."

"Yes," Lisle agreed; "it cannot be more comfortless than this."

Jacques still hesitated; shrugged his shoulders; rubbed his chin in a perplexed, vexed way.

"If Monsieur would permit the advice from me. Monsieur, you will. Is it not 1 ' '

"Come, Jacques, drive on! We cannot stay fooling here all night. The horse is shivering with cold. You say, yourself, there is nowhere else to go."

Shrugging his shoulders as he muttered to himself, with increasing tardiness of movement, the unwilling man went to his horse 's head to lead him.

"Monsieur has his way. He will repent. 'Dieu,' what a night!"

Meantime, Lisle and Stella had alighted from the carriage. After walking a short distance, stumbling in the dusk, they turned aside into a neglected road that was evidently little used. Just as they began to fear that they had missed their way, a dark mass of trees and building loomed before them in the dusky silence of the night. Jacques stopped his wearied horse and went unwillingly to open the old crazy gate that led into the drive. The rotten fastenings gave way before his touch, and he led the tired horse through to the house-front, and halted there.

It was closed up and dark, and appeared inhospitable and forbidding. Some of the windows were partially grown over with creeper, or were in denseshadow from the close and heavy growth of an old tree. Lisle knocked gently at a door, but no response was made. After a long interval of waiting, during which he continued to knock more loudly and repeatedly from time to time, he was on the point of abandoning all hope that any inmate could be within this dreary and apparently deserted building.

"Monsieur permits that I attempt?" Jacques asked wearily at last.

"What could you do?" demanded Lisle.

"But yes, Monsieur. Me, I will force a door or window for th§ entrance."

"Wait a little yet. I think someone is stirring now."

Lisle stepped back as he spoke, and looking up at the desolate and silent house, discerned a faint light at a window above. Soon the light was slowly moved from room to room, and from one landing to another. The faint glimmering appeared now at one window, now at another; now clearer, and now fainter, and by degrees it so descended to the lower floor. Then came the sound of a light footfall just within. And presently the heavy clanking of a rusty chain. Soon the door swung open slowly, and it seemed reluctantly, to disclose the unexpected figure of an old woman standing on the threshold.

By the brief glance Lisle got, he noticed that her face wore an inscrutable expression. She carried in her hand a dim and smoking lamp, which she raised up so that its light fell full upon his face, but left her own in shadow.

"Can we remain here for the night?" Lisle asked in French. "We have been belated, and will pay you well, if we may have food and shelter for the night."

" 'Entrez, Monsieur,' We live here alone, my son and I. If little will content, we can afford you the night's shelter."

In answer to enquiry as to accommodation for the tired horse, she stepped outside the door and pointed in the direction of the stables, at some distance from the house itself. Thither Jacques took round the vehicle without delay.

They entered the old house and passed into a room. It was close and musty, as though it had been long shut up, and it was furnished with quaint, dingy, and worm-eaten furniture. A faded, heavy curtain hung before the door, perhaps to keep out draught.

Stella gave an irrepressible and nervous little shudder, as though the silent loneliness of this strange place had already had effect upon her wearied nerves.

The old woman placed the smoking lamp upon the table, uttering a few disjointed words in French, regarding food and firing, and then left the room. She re-entered presently with fuel. A fire was lighted and was soon burning cheerfully on the roomy, open hearth. She received Lisle 's request that she would supply Jacques' wants, and retired with a few words indicating her intention of providing them with some refreshment.

The old woman soon returned, bringing food, and a jug of hot and steaming coffee. As she turned to leave the room again she hesitated, with her eyes fixed on Lisle 's face as though she fain would speak. Then she seemed to shrink within herself, and a look of terror came upon her wrinkled face. In another instant it was gone again, and Lisle thought it was perhaps but some slight flickering movement of the firelight across her face. Even as he looked at her in doubt, she turned and left the room.

He and Stella now sat down together to partake of their belated supper. The fire was cheerful, and the hot coffee would have been acceptable to the cold and weary travellers, but for a strange, slightly unpleasant flavour. After a slight repast they drew up their seats beside the brightly-burning fire.

It threw strange shadows in the gloomy corners of the room.

"The coffee had a strange taste, Stella," Lisle said presently.

"I have scarcely touched it," Stella said.

There was a long silence, during which they followed each their own reflections.

"I wonder," she said musingly, at last, "if we will succeed in finding out the person for whom my poor grandfather's sealed packet was intended? 1 have been thinking constantly about it. Perhaps we may yet have to open it."

As Stella spoke she turned her head towards the door.

"What is the matter, Stella?" Lisle inquired a moment later, observing her abstracted manner. He had drawn the packet from his inner pocket, and was thoughtfully handling it.

She did not reply. Yawning wearily, he leant back in his seat. He felt a strange, unwonted drowsiness gradually stealing over him, and he vainly tried to shake it off. It steadily increased its heavy hold. He fell presently into a dreamy state, and then into a doze.

Stella roused him suddenly by catching at his arm, with a subdued but startled exclamation. He started, turning to her, for the moment almost shaking off the heavy slumber stealing over him.

"Did you hear -anything ? " she whispered, awed. "I heard a slight noise near, as though there were some unseen presence in the heavy shadow of the curtain at the door. Then I cried out to you."

"A mere fancy," Lisle responded carelessly, as he replaced the packet in his inner pocket. ' ' There is no one there. You are tired and nervous, and imagined it," he added, rising heavily from his seat.

He went first to the door, and then looked round the room.

"The fire throws strange flickering shadows here. It is beginning to die out, and we shall have no fuel to replenish it when I have put on this last log. I feel strangely drowsy — I must sleep it off ! "

As Lisle spoke he made a vain attempt to throw the window open. The creeper just outside it had overgrown the casement, and made it impracticable. In his efforts to open it, he broke a pane of glass, and the cold night air, smelling of freshly-fallen rain, rushed in. For the moment, it almost dispelled the stupor that was stealing over him and deadening his senses.