Toilers of Babylon: A Novel
TextCHAPTER XLVII
It was closing time at the Three Tuns, and some tipplers were being bundled out, much against their will, when Timothy Chance, entering with Mr. Manners, called the landlord aside, and had a hurried conference with him. The result was satisfactory.
"They are having supper in a private room," said Timothy to Mr. Manners, "and the landlord will take us up, unannounced." They ascended the stairs, and the landlord, without knocking, throwing open the door, Timothy and Mr. Manners entered the room.
Mark Inglefield was sitting at the supper-table; by his side sat Mary Parkinson; opposite to them sat Blooming Bess. Mark Inglefield, looking up, with angry words on his lips at the intrusion, was about to utter them, when, seeing who his visitors were, he fell back as if suddenly paralyzed. His face was of a deadly pallor, his limbs trembled, he was speechless. Mr. Manners gave him time to recover himself, but the detected villain did not speak. He felt that retribution had overtaken him.
"I wish to say a word to you," said Mr. Manners, sternly. "Do you prefer it should be said here or in private?"
Mark Inglefield, shaking like a man in an ague, rose to his feet and staggered to the door.
"In private?" asked Mr. Manners.
"In private," replied Mark Inglefield, his voice scarcely rising above a whisper.
"Remain here," said Mr. Manners to Timothy, "and explain to Miss Parkinson why we have come."
Then he followed Mark Inglefield from the room. The landlord was on the stairs, and at Mr. Manners's request he conducted the two to another room, saying:
"You will not be disturbed."
Summoning all his courage, Mark Inglefield said:
"This is an unexpected honor, sir. Your errand is probably the same as mine."
"What may your errand be?" asked Mr. Manners.
"I said this morning," replied Mark Inglefield, striving to believe that the game was not yet lost, and that he could still continue to deceive the man upon whom he had imposed for so many years, "that I would find Mary Parkinson, and endeavor to extract the truth from her. With the aid of a detective I succeeded in tracking her here."
"Yes," said Mr. Manners, inwardly resolving to ascertain to what further lengths in the art of duplicity Mark Inglefield would go; "was she surprised to see you?"
"Very," said Mark Inglefield, beginning to gain confidence. "Very much surprised."
"She did not know you?"
"How could she, sir? It was a bold plan of mine, but I have hopes that it will be attended with the happiest results. To restore an erring child to her father's arms is a task of which I am sure you will approve."
"I do."
"Perhaps," continued Mark Inglefield (thinking to himself, "What a fool I was to exhibit any sign of fear!") – "perhaps to bring her back to the path of virtue and make an honest woman of her-this is what I hope to achieve. Then I could come to you, and say, 'I have done this good action in return for the slander which an enemy dared to breathe against me.'"
"It would be a good action. To bring a weak, erring child back to the path of virtue, and make an honest woman of her. Is that really your wish?"
"What other wish can I have, sir, with respect to Mr. Parkinson? Would it not entirely clear me from suspicion?"
Mr. Manners ignored the question. "She did not know you, you say. How did you introduce yourself to her? In your own name?"
"Of course. It would have been wrong to use another."
"Did the detective you employed accompany you?"
"He did; else I should hardly have found this out-of-the-way hole-in which, sir, I am surprised to see you. But I need not express surprise. Your decision of character and kindness of heart are well known to me.",
"My decision of character-yes; my kindness of heart-those are meaningless words in your experience of me. But the past can be atoned for."
"You have nothing to reproach yourself with, sir."
"My conscience answers. But it is not to speak of myself that I have come to-night. Is the detective who conducted you here now in the house? I should like to speak to him."
"How unfortunate! It is but a few minutes since he left us. Had I known-"
"But you did not know."
"No, indeed, sir."
"Did you disclose to Miss Parkinson the nature of your errand?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was her answer?"
"She was grateful, truly grateful."
"Was it your intention to take her back to her home tonight?"
"Scarcely to-night. Early in the morning, after she was calmer, and prepared to meet her father."
"She has a companion with her?"
It was this question which caused Mark Inglefield to suddenly recollect that Mr. Manners had seen Blooming Bess earlier in the day. Up to this point he had not given her a thought.
"Ah, yes, sir, a companion, who gave us certain information when we paid our visit to Mr. Parkinson. It was a happy thought of mine to take the poor girl with us; it would inspire Miss Parkinson with confidence in me. Besides, sir, it would not have been proper for me to visit Miss Parkinson alone."
"Shall I call her down to test the truth of your statements?"
"Surely, sir, you do not doubt me!"
"I ask again, shall I call her down to test the truth of your statements?"
"Shall I go up and bring her down to you?"
"In order," said Mr. Manners, "that you may have time to concoct some story which you can prevail upon her to adopt, so that I may be the further deceived?"
"Sir, you wrong me," stammered Mark Inglefield.
"Mr. Inglefield," said Mr. Manners, "let us throw aside the mask of treachery and deceit. The questions I addressed to you were put for a purpose. Is it sufficiently explicit to you if I tell you that you have betrayed yourself?"
"I do not understand you."
"That is not true. You understand me well enough, though yet you do not know all I have resolved upon. It is I, not you, who will take Miss Parkinson to her father to-night. It is for you, not for me, to make an honest woman of her."
Then, indeed, did Mark Inglefield know that the game was up.
"If you are determined not to believe what I say, sir-"
"Not one word. All your statements are false-in the present, as they have been in the past. It was you who stole Miss Parkinson from her home last night, and the poor girl who is now with her was bought over by you. Be thankful that you are spared a visit from Mr. Parkinson. But for me, you would be face to face with him, and would have had to answer for your crime. Mr. Inglefield, evil can be atoned for. For the evil I have done in the past it shall be my endeavor to atone. It will be to your interest to come to the same resolve."
"Can nothing I can say convince you that you are doing me an injustice?"
"Nothing. So much has been revealed and made clear to me that only one course remains open to you, so far as I am concerned."
"Perhaps," said Mark Inglefield, in a tone which he vainly strove to make defiant, "you will explain yourself?"
"I will do so. You will marry the girl you have brought to shame."
"I, sir, I! It is a monstrous idea!"
"Knowing you as I know you now, there is indeed something revolting in it-and it may be that she will not give you the opportunity of making atonement." Mark Inglefield smiled scornfully. "There is a road," pursued Mr. Manners, "out of evil, and for a little while this road will be open to you. Turn your back upon it, and go forth into the world, a beggar! Enter it-with a purified heart, if you can-and I will make you recompense."
"You will fulfil the expectations you have always held out to me?"
"No. My promise was given to a man of honor, as I believed. I will not bring my tongue to utter what you have proved yourself to be. But I will give you a competence, which my lawyers shall arrange with you. For myself, after this night I will never see you again, nor shall you ever again darken my door. There is something more, and it may weigh with you. For years past you have transacted certain business matters for me. I have not too closely looked into them. Refuse the offer I have made to you, and they shall be searched into and examined with but one end in view-punishment. Accept it, and all that has passed between us in connection with these matters shall be buried forever. You will know how best to decide. I give you" – he took out his watch-"five minutes to decide. Your fate and future are in your own hands."
Then there was silence. With his back turned to Mr. Manners, Mark Inglefield debated with himself. He knew that the matters to which Mr. Manners referred would not bear investigation, and that he was in danger of the criminal dock; he knew that Mr. Manners would show him no mercy. He shrugged his shoulders savagely, and said:
"What do you call a competence?"
"It shall be decided between you and my lawyers at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, by which time they will have received my instructions. You have barely half a minute to arrive at a decision. I am inexorable."
"I accept your offer," said Mark Inglefield.
"You will find Miss Parkinson in her father's home. There must be no delay. Farewell."
At nine o'clock the following morning Mr. Manners sat at breakfast with Kingsley, Nansie, and Hester. There were no traces of fatigue on Mr. Manners's face; on the contrary, it looked fresh and young. A new and better life was before him. Mr. Loveday, the good old book-man, kept purposely away; he would not intrude upon a meeting which he deemed had something sacred in it. And indeed it had. Hearts that should never have been separated were united, and love shone within the little room.
It was a humble meal, but the sweetest that Mr. Manners had tasted for many, many years. Nansie's face was bright, and now and then her lips were wreathed in happy smiles, and now and then her eyes were filled with tears. And so we leave them. Flowers are blossoming; there is good in the future to be done.
It may be, also, in the future, that Hester Manners and Timothy Chance may come together for weal or woe. Words have yet to be spoken, but in their hearts love has already found its nest. May their lives be as sweet and pure as the lives of Kingsley and Nansie! There will be manna for the hungry, and light will be shed upon the dark spaces of the East.