The fatal request

chapter i. **WB SHALL FIND IT OUT SOME DAT.”

A BOUT the beginning of the month of April, 1884, the family of Mr. Silas Burritt observed a certain alteration in that gentleman’s habits and demeanour. Signs of restlessness, of excitement, began to make their appearance and from time to time ruffle the surface of his ordinarily calm and businesslike disposition.

It appeared to those who studied him that he became imbued with an air of anticipation — that he started when a knock was heard at the door, and that the advent of the postman was awaited by him, if not with anxiety, at anyrate with an amount of eager expectancy which was, in a general way, quite foreign to him. Also, that when any letters were delivered to him he apparently scanned the superscriptions which they bore with unusual interest, and that this interest invariably gave way to an expression of relief or disappointment, according to the interpretation put upon it by those who concerned themselves in the matter.

THE FATAL REQUEST.

It was also observed that the nearer they drew to the end of the month, the more these symptoms became exaggerated; and, as day after day went by unmarked by any unusual occurrence, he was observed to shake his head with a half-smile and a half-sigh, and mutter, as he thought to himself, “Dead or forgotten?" After which, he remained plunged in reflection for a considerable time.

It was his son Edward — more generally known as “Ted” — who happened to overhear these words, and they caused him no small amount of bewilderment.

“I can’t make out what’s the matter with the guv’- nor,” he observed to his sister May. “He doesn’t seem a bit like bimself. Did you notice how he jumped when the postman came this morning? and how he snatched at the letters when they were brought in?”

“Poor, dear father 1 ” replied his sister, “I’m afraid it’s business. Don’t you remember how he was just like this a long time ago, when that bank broke he had a good deal of money in ? Perhaps he’s afraid the same thing’s going to happen again. If it does, I suppose I shall have to go out as a governess, and you ”

“ Nonsense 1” interrupted the brother; “I know better than that. Why, old Jones, the head clerk, told me, only last week, that he can’t remember the time when the House was in a more flourishing condition than it is just now. So, young woman, you see you’re wrong for once.”

His sister shook her head, only half convinced. “Then if it isn’t business, what is it?”

“Ah!” was the reply. “There you have me. It’s clear there’s something worrying the dear old boy. Perhaps” — as though struck with a sudden bright idea — ‘ ‘ perhaps it’s his liver ! It generally is liver, you know, when they get about that age. In fact I ”

U WE SHALL FIND IT OUT SOME DAY.'

“ But what would his liver have to do with the postman, and his being so anxious about his letters?” without giving him time to finish his sentence. “ You know lately he always inquires, the moment he gets inside the door, whether any have come for him.”

“Well, you know, May, that might be a symptom of the complaint,” answered the young man, loth to relinquish his latest notion. “I’ll ask Dr. Watson next time I see him. I’ll just put it to him, you know, in an offhand way. I’ll say, * By-the-by, doctor, can you tell me what effect liver has upon ?”

The conversation thus recorded took place in the hall of Mr. Burritt’s large, old fashioned house at Dulwich. It was a fine, square hall, tiled in black and white and hung with some good oil paintings. Three or four doors, belonging to the different dwelling rooms, opened into it, one of which happened to be the study of the master of the house. It was about seven o’clock in the evening that, as the brother and sister were talking in low voices, and the former was explaining his views on the subject under discussion, he was interrupted by the sound of that abrupt, loud, double knock which is so familiar to us all.

“ There’s the seven o’clock post,” said the girl. “ I wonder if there’s anything for father this time? If there is, I’ll ”

But neither was she allowed to finish, for, as she turned towards the direction of the letter box, the study door before mentioned was thrown hurriedly open and an elderly gentleman rushed across the hall, almost jostling his daughter as he did so, and extricated from its receptacle one letter in a thin, foreign looking envelope, the direction on which was written in a large, scrawling hand, which barely left room for the stamp. Both members of his family succeeded in

1—2

THE FATAL REQUEST.

observing this much while their parent gazed, half bewildered, at the missive which he held in his hand.

There was a singular look upon his face, on which astonishment seemed struggling with some other emotion. Then he drew a long breath. “ After all these years ! ” he said to himself. “So he has kept his word, after all.”

All at once he became aware that there were two interested — not to say curious — witnesses present, to whom his conduct must present itself in a somewhat strange light. He accordingly roused himself, passed his fingers through the hair which was just beginning to turn grey, and gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “ A letter, you see. Eather an important letter. I’ve been expecting something of the sort for some time — or, perhaps, hardly expecting it so much as wondering ” He broke off, and turned it over in his

fingers. “Nothing remarkable, you know, but — I had better go and see what it’s about.”

He recrossed the hall, re-entered his study and closed the door. As he did so both the young people heard the key turn in the lock. Evidently their father was anxious not to be disturbed in the perusal of the mysterious missive, whatever it might be. At the same time there was something in the sound of the click, made in thus securing the door, that seemed to them both — though neither would have admitted it to the other — to be a trifle — what was it? — ominous? At anyrate, though neither of them said any more on the subject at the time, their minds were full of it as they each turned to go their different ways ; the one to the billiard room for a little private practice, the other to the drawing room to try over the last new song.

“ I wonder what it was?” soliloquized the former, as he knocked the balls about, “ and what made the

“ WE SHALL FIND IT OUT SOME DAY.'

guv’nor so queer and unlike himself at the sight of it ? However, it’s no good troubling myself about it. I daresay it’s nothing, after all — unless, as I said just now, it’s his liver ! ”

“I wonder whom it was from?” mused his sister, between the verses of her song. “ It’s all very well for Ted to say it’s all nonsense. It wouldn’t matter so much for him. He wouldn’t have to go out as a governess and teach a lot of horrid children what he didn’t know himself. It’s all very well for him to say it’s nonsense, but I’m quite certain it is something to do with business. How I do hate the word ! One, two, three. One, two, three. The bass doesn’t sound quite right, somehow, and I don’t think I can be playing it in the proper key. I wonder what Ted’s doing ? I think I’ll go and see. I don’t seem to be able to give my mind to my music this evening. Though, I suppose, if I’m going to be a governess, I ought to stop and practise scales for another horn: at least. Oh ! dear me,” with a prodigious sigh, as she closed the piano with a bang, “ how I shall detest it.”

She crossed the hall lightly and paused for a moment outside the door of her father’s private room. Kneeling down on the mat she applied her eye to the keyhole, in a most reprehensible manner, but the view was blocked by the key, which remained in the lock on the other side. Then she ventured to softly turn the handle, but the door was still locked, and, after listening for a moment, during which she fancied she detected the sound of the rustling of paper, she went on her way, no wiser than before, but more inclined to back her original opinion than ever.

Mr. Silas Burritt remained shut up in his study all the remainder of the evening, and only encountered his son and daughter at breakfast the next morning

THE FATAL REQUEST.

■ — being Thursday — when he appeared to have regained his ordinary manner; notwithstanding to two pairs of inquisitive young eyes there still seemed to be a certain absent expression — the expression of a man (not that they described it to themselves in any such words) who has been reviewing the past, and whose thoughts still linger behind him among the years that have gone by. There was also a slight suspicion of nervousness about him, and several times he seemed on the point of saying something, which he put off from one moment to another, as a man often does when he feels he is about to astonish his hearers by some announcement, and is not quite sure what form their astonishment may take. At last he made up his mind to speak.

“ My dear,” he said, addressing his wife, of whom mention has not previously been made, but who was a fact, nevertheless, “I am thinking — that is, I have made up my mind — at anyrate, I am going away for a

day or so. At least Here he found that he

had by no means miscalculated the effect of the announcement, for his voice at this juncture was drowned by a family trio —

“ Where to ? What for ? How long shall you stay ? How strange.”

This last remark, emanating as it did, from his son and heir, seemed to cause the object of it some little annoyance.

“ Strange, Ted 1 ” slightly knitting his brows as he spoke. “ What do you mean ? What is there strange in my leaving home for a day — on business?”

The last words came after a barely perceptible pause.

“Oh, then, it is business, after all!” broke in his daughter May, with an air of hardly repressed triumph.

“WE SHALL FIND IT OUT SOME DAY ” 1

“ I knew it was. I said so directly I saw the letter — didn’t I, Ted?”

Her father turned round upon her, rather sharply. “What letter?”

“ The — the letter that came last night,” she stammered, disconcerted by the unusual tone. Then, reasserting herself, “ I was in the hall, you know, when it came, and I thought it looked like business.”

Her father’s frown relaxed as he patted her on the shoulder.

“Inquisitive little girl,” he said; “what does it matter to you what my letters are about ? ”

“But it was business, wasn’t it?” she persisted, secure in her position of spoilt child.

“ Well — yes — that is, partly so,” he answered. “ At feast, it was from an old ” He seemed to re-

member something and stopped short. “ At anyrate,” he continued, “ I have to go to Dover.”

“ Dover ! ” re-echoed the family.

“ Yes,” he said, rumpling his hair, and apparently taking some care in the choice of his words ; “I find I shall have to go there. It is rather inconvenient just now, but it can’t be helped ; though it will not be more than a couple of days at the outside. By-theby,” turning towards his helpmate, “ it is not unlikely that I may bring a friend back with me. No ; it’s no one you know,” responding to the question he saw trembling on more than one pair of bps. “ At anyrate, you had better have a room prepared in case of that event.”

Mrs. Burritt, a mild and somewhat colourless specimen of the British matron, with a partiality for patent medicines, here inquired whether the guest, whoever he might be, was to have the best spare bedroom, or whether the second best would be considered equal to

THE FATAL REQUEST.

the occasion. Certainly, she was compelled to admit that the lid of the soap-dish, pertaining to the latter apartment, was cracked, but otherwise

To this her husband, apparently making light of the objection, remarked, hurriedly, that it would do very nicely ; and, after all, it was not at all certain that the room would be required. Mrs. Burritt, with her mind temporarily at rest about the soap-dish, was able to turn her attention to another matter of equal importance, which she now proceeded to press upon her husband’s notice.

“ If I put a little bottle of Maltby’s Vegetable Extract in your portmanteau, you won’t forget to take a dose, night and morning ? There’s nothing like it when you’re travelling — so easy to carry — no fear of its upsetting and spoiling anything ; and it would be such a relief to my mind if you would take a tea-spoonful twice a day.”

“My dear,” was the compliant response, “I’ll promise to take a table-spoonful, if it will afford you any satisfaction.”

His spouse smiled upon him, but shook her head gently.

“I think, Silas,” she said, “that you had better begin with a tea-spoonful, as you are not accustomed to it; afterwards you can increase the dose.”

Half an hour later Mr. Burritt took a hasty but affectionate farewell of his family, who, as they watched his departure and waved their hands to him, said to themselves that he would soon be back again among them. In spite of this belief, however, they craned their necks to see the last of him.

“ That’ll do, May,” exclaimed her brother, “ you can leave off brandishing that pocket-handkerchief. Anyone would think that you never expected to see him any more, from the fuss you’re making.”

“WE SHALL FIND IT OUT SOME DA Y”

His sister drew in her head and complied with the request, murmuring to herself, “ And I only put three lumps of sugar in his coffee this morning, though I knew he always likes four.”

“What a little goose you are,” was the truly fraternal remark, “just as if ”

But another regretful voice broke upon his ear. “ There now I Your father’s never taken the bottle of Vegetable Extract I put ready for him, after all ! How disappointing 1 ”

A little later, when his sister, who had again had recourse to her piano, was practising scales like a Trojan (if the expression is allowable), the young man put his head inside the door of the room in which she was, and the following brief conversation ensued :

“ I say, May I ”

“What?”

“ Do you know, it has just occurred to me that the guv’nor never mentioned the name of the friend he was going to bring back with him.”

The scale of G major came to an abrupt conclusion. “To be sure he didn’t. How funny I But then, you see, we forgot to ask him.”

“ I know we did ; but you would have thought that he would have told us without that. However, of course it doesn’t matter, and I suppose we shall find it out some day. Ta-ta ! I’m off.”

The door slammed to and the scales were resumed with more vigour than ever.

CHAPTER H.

•* AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.”

"AyTR. BURRITT arrived at his destination between -L’X six and seven.. He had bought a couple of papers at Charing Cross, before starting, for the purpose of beguiling the tedium of the journey ; but, beyond the merest cursory glance at the outside sheet of each, he had given no attention to their contents, seeming to find sufficient occupation and distraction in his own thoughts. Whether these latter were agreeable, or the reverse, it was hard to judge by appearances. As he sat plunged in reverie, gazing absently out of the window at the flying scenery, they seemed to partake of the nature of both. Sometimes he smiled to himself, sometimes he shook his head; once or twice he sighed. At anyrate the journey under these circumstances — whatever they might be — seemed a very short one, and he could scarcely believe that he had arrived at the end of it when the train drew up at the platform.

Alighting from the first-class compartment in which he had travelled, he gave a hasty and comprehensive glance round ; as though he thought it half possible that he might be met by someone. Then he left the station and proceeded in the direction of the “ Lord Warden.”

Arriving at that famous hostelry he made a certain inquiry of the waiter who came forward to meet him. To which the reply was, that the gentleman referred to had crossed by the boat that morning and had engaged a private sitting room, leaving word that he 10 expected a friend from town, who was to be shown up immediately on giving his name.

“ My name is Burritt,” was the reply.

“Then please to walk this way, sir.” The man ushered him up a flight of stairs and along a corridor, then, indicating a particular door, said: “This is the room the gentleman has taken.”

“ I will announce myself,” said Mr. Burritt, and the man withdrew.

Then, after a pause of a few seconds, he tapped lightly at the door. A voice from within cried : “ Come in 1 ” and answering the summons he turned the handle and entered. The occupant of the apartment, a tall, lean, elderly man, who was looking out of the window, turned round sharply and confronted the visitor. A look — a strange, wondering, intent look — passed between them. Then, the stranger, made a step forward. “Silas!” he cried. “At last ! ” — and the men grasped hands.

Then followed a brief and impressive silence, during which each eagerly scanned the features of the other, and which Mr. Burritt was the first to break.

“James,” he said, and there were traces of considerable emotion in his voice, “ you are much changed. I should hardly have known you.”

“ Changed,” exclaimed the other, somewhat bitterly; “and in twenty years! Is it to be wondered at?” Then, with an alteration of tone, “ But I should have known you anywhere, Silas.”

“ Twenty years ! ” repeated his friend. “ Ah, well, so it is! How quickly the years have flown. It seems nothing like, that to me.”

“It is that, all the same,” said the other. “It is twenty years to the very day. This is the 24th of April, 1884. It was the 24th of April, 1864, when

THE FATAL REQUEST.

you said ‘good-bye’ to me on board the vessel in which I was to sail to a new country.” The bitter expression again passed over the speaker’s face as he uttered these last few words, and he relinquished the hand which he had been holding until now.

“ It is a long time to remain an exile— a voluntary exile,” said Mr. Burritt; “you might have returned years ago, had you chosen. There was nothing to prevent you — nothing,” he repeated, with emphasis.

The other man shook his head gloomily. “I have kept my word,” he said. “You remember my last speech to you ? I said, ‘ I am going to begin a new life — to make my fortune. In twenty years, if I have done so, I shall return. By that time I may hope that my crime will have been forgotten. It may be that in twenty years some of those who know my wretched story will be dead — I may even be dead myself ; but, if not, I shall return to the country I am now about to leave behind ; for surely in twenty years the disgrace which now tarnishes my name will be blotted out and forgotten. Until then, farewell ! ’ And now,” he continued, “the term of my self-imposed banishment is at an end. I have kept my word and I have returned.”

Mr. Burritt laid his hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “You judge yourself too harshly,” he said ; “ the word crime is too severe a one to apply to that youthful indiscretion — sin, if you will — repented of as soon as committed.”

“ Repentance ! ” cried the other, impatiently ; “ what is the good of repentance? Will it recover a lost reputation and wipe out a stain upon the past ? The fortune I went to seek is mine, but I would give it all for an unblemished record, so that I might not be ashamed to look any man in the face.”

“My dear old friend 1” said Mr. Burritt, “put

“ AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.”

away these gloomy thoughts. Forget the past and look forward to the future. Believe me, there are better things in store for you. You may yet anticipate many pleasant, peaceful years.”

His friend sighed. “ If I could only believe it, if I could only hope that the story of my sin might remain unknown by at least one ; and that in one pair of eyes I might still seem the man of unblemished integrity I have always striven to appear. Ah, Silas ! it is a terrible thing to think that a child of mine should ever have to blush for her father ! ”

“You are married, then?” inquired Mr. Burritt, gladly seizing the opportunity thus offered of changing the dismal subject. “ Is your wife with you? ”

“ I am a widower,” was the reply. “ My wife died twelve years ago, leaving me with one child — a daughter.”

“ Shall I have the pleasure of seeing her ? ” was the next question.

Mr. Burritt’s friend shook his head. “ I sent her home, to the old country to complete her education, five years ago; she is now at boarding-school at Brighton ; waiting for me to fetch her. But pray sit down. What can I be thinking of to allow you to remain standing until now ? The meeting with an old friend, after so many years, makes me forgetful of even the rudiments of hospitality.”

The two men drew chairs into close proximity and sat down.

“Now tell me all about your daughter,” said Mr. Burritt, “ and how you came to make up your mind to part with her for so long ? I have a daughter of my own — as well as the son who was born before you left England — and though I have been threatening to pack her off to boarding-school for the last four or

THE FATAL BEQUEST.

five years, I never could reconcile myself to the idea of the separation. And now she’s too old — nineteen last birthday,” and her father shook his head over his own weakness and smiled, an indulgent, parental smile.

“ That’s the age of my Agnes within a year,” said the other ; “ strange that we should have daughters so nearly the same age ! ”

“ They must be friends,” said Mr. Burritt, cordially, “ friends, as their fathers were before them.”

Directly he had made the remark, he wished it recalled; for again the look of gloomy despondency settled down upon his friend’s face.

“ Friends 1 ” he repeated. “ Poor child ! She would have few enough friends if her father’s story should become known.”

He looked at his companion strangely.

“I am in your hands, Silas,” he said; “you can ruin me in my child’s eyes, as well as in the eyes of the world, whenever you please.”

Mr. Burritt’ s face became flushed, and he started to his feet with the haste and hot indignation which would have done credit to one of half his years. “ James ! ” he cried, with passion, “ is this the way you speak?-— is this the way you treat your old friend ? Does the fidelity of half a lifetime count for nothing? Have I ever done anything to deserve this at your hands ? Has one syllable of your secret been breathed by me — even to my nearest and dearest — all these many years? Why, even your name has been preserved in inviolable secrecy, and at this very moment not one single soul, besides myself, is aware of the object of my journey, or of the identity of the individual I have come to meet ! — and this is all you have to say to me I I had better return home at once, without more delay ! ”

He was evidently much moved, and the other man could not but recognize that the emotion he betrayed was genuine. So he, too, rose from his seat and, catching Mr. Burritt by the arm, said, “ My dear fellow, don’t misunderstand me ! Surely you did not take me seriously just now ? Good heavens ! why you are the one man in this world that I feel I can trust entirely and implicitly. It is not that I doubted you for a

moment, Silas ; but ” He passed his hand over

his eyes, as though to clear away something which obstructed his vision. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he continued : “I only landed in the old country this morning, and it has brought it all back again — all the shame and sorrow, all the suffering and remorse — it seems as fresh as though — as though it had all happened yesterday, instead of twenty years ago. I cannot but realize the fact that, in spite of all my wealth — honestly earned, too, every penny of it, I swear — I am a pariah, an outcast. No, don’t interrupt me. I tell you” — with a bitter, mirthless laugh — “I feel more like a returned convict than anything else.”

“James!” exclaimed Mr. Burritt, “you shock me ! you grieve me more than I can say 1 I ”

His friend interrupted him. “ You ! ” he sneered, “ you are the immaculate citizen — the man without a past ! What have you to do with such an one as I ? ” There was a bitter sarcasm in his tone, a morbid jealousy in his look, but Mr. Burritt refused to recognize the presence of either.

“ James,” he said, with feeling — “ or let me call you Jim, as I used to do long ago — do you think for a moment that I despise' you, or look down upon you in any way ? Who shall dare to say that I might not have acted as you did, had I been similarly placed? After all, what is the difference between us? You were tempted and you fell — I was spared the tempta-

THE FATAL REQUEST.

tion and, therefore, the fall. Who shall declare which is the better of the two — the man who has been spared the trial, or the man who succumbed and expiated his fault by twenty years of remorse and banishment?”

“ Silas ! ” cried the other, overcome by this generosity. “ Forgive me ! There never was a better friend than yourself, and I see that you are still the same staunch, noble, generous hearted fellow that I knew a quarter of a century ago. I am ashamed of myself I Give me your hand. I will never doubt you again.”

They shook hands again in silence, as before, resumed their seats, and for some moments neither of them spoke. Then, the one who has been referred to throughout merely by the Christian name of “James,” his mind apparently going back to a previous point in the conversation just recorded, said, suddenly —

“ And you say that no one knows — not even the members of your own family — the reason of your journey, or on whose behalf it was undertaken ? ”

“I did say so,” was the answer; “and it is true. Beyond the fact of my destination, they know nothing whatever of the object of my absence from home. But, stay, I believe I did mention that I was going to meet an old friend, whom I said I hoped to be able to persuade to return with me.”

“You told them that much?” inquired the other man, with interest.

“ That and no more,” was the reply. “ They neither aslcod, nor did I volunteer the name of the friend ; as it occurred to me that perhaps, for reasons of your own, you might be ”

Mr. Burritt paused, and there was a certain amount of embarrassment perceptible in his manner.

“You thought,” continued his friend, interpreting the pause aright, “ that I might be masquerading

“ AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.”

under another name than my own ? Oh, yes, I know ” — waving him off, as the other would have interrupted him at this juncture — “ that was not the way in which you would have put it ; but our meaning is the same, though you would probably have expressed it better. No, though your caution was commendable, it was not necessary. I have never gone under any other name than my own, and never mean to do so. At the same time,.! 1 he continued, sinking his voice and looking round him, as though to assure himself that there were no listeners, no one present besides himself and his friend, “ I am glad that you did refrain from mentioning my naipe to any of your family. I don’t exactly know why” — with an enigmatical expression — “but all the same I am glad of it.”