Noel sprang to his feet, while a dizziness that made him almost
unconscious took possession of him. He fell back into his chair again, a
chill running through all his veins. If it should be the man Christine
had married so hastily in a foreign country--the father of her child!
The horror of it overcame him so that for several moments he remained
transfixed. Then he reflected that the name might be a mere coincidence,
and took up the letter to finish it.
Every word he read strengthened the conviction that it was the Robert
Dallas that he knew. There was a minute description of him, which
corresponded perfectly, and the lawyer added that he had sent, by
express, a photograph and specimens of his handwriting. Noel looked
about him. An express parcel, which he had not noticed, lay on the
table. He hastily cut the twine and opened it. There were papers and
memoranda, and in an envelope a photograph. He tore it open and the
weak, handsome face of the father of Christine's child confronted him.
There was no longer a doubt of it; Christine, the innocent, the
guileless, the confiding, the pure and sweet and lovely, had been
betrayed, and by this creature, this miserable excuse for a man, whose
dull and feeble beauty looked to him hideous as leprosy. What would
become of her? How would she bear it? Who would take care of her when
the great shock fell?
A sudden strength came into him. A force that had lain as silent and
reserved as the force of steam in water surged forth at the fiery touch
of the thought that had first come to him. He got up hastily and put the
lawyer's letters and the parcel of papers into his iron safe and locked
it. The photograph only he left out, and this he thrust into the inner
pocket of his coat. As he was doing so it caught on something. It was
his cross. A thought thrilled him. He was her knight of the Legion of
Honor, and he felt that he had kept his trust!
He went out of the office, called a cab, and had himself driven to a
street and number in a remote suburb of the city. In a quiet, pretty
little house, overrun with vines, and facing a green and grassy public
square as fresh and lovely as it was unfashionable, he stayed a long
time, and when he emerged from it an elderly lady, dressed in black and
with a white widow's cap set above her smoothly-brushed hair, came to
the door with him and pressed his hand with a fervent "God bless you" as
he was leaving her.
It was evident that he had inspired her with some of the ardent spirit
that was animating him, for she looked eager and full of interest, and
as she turned back within the house, when he had driven off, she had
the manner of a person who had work to do that called forth her best
energies and sympathies. Noel had the same air as he caused himself to
be driven from place to place, in pursuance of some purpose which kept
him occupied until far into the night.
XI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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