"Set your mind at rest, the paper is in the iron chest in that room. If you will not rely upon my promise to destroy it, I will burn it before your eyes."
"That alone will satisfy my doubts," returned his companion. "Be cautious how you open the door, or the lad will awake."
"Nonsense, young folks like him sleep well."
"Ay, Robert Moncton, they are not troubled with an evil conscience."
This last observation was accompanied with a low sarcastic laugh; and with an involuntary shiver, I recognized in the mysterious speaker the old woman who had haunted my dreams.
"Conscience never troubles me, Dinah," returned Moncton, gloomily. "You first taught me to drown its warning voice."
"You were an apt pupil," said the woman. "All your natural tendencies were evil. I only fostered and called them out. But what is the use of recalling unpleasant truths. Why don"t you silence memory, when you have ceased to feel remorse. But I tell you what it is, Moncton. The presence of the one proves the existence of the other. The serpent is sleeping in his coil, and one of these days you will feel the strength of his fangs. Is this the door that leads to his chamber? You have chosen a sorry dormitory for the heir of the proud house of Moncton."
"Hush! I wish he slept with his fathers. But even if he should awake, how could he guess, that our visit to his chamber could in any way concern him?"
"He has a shrewd face, an intelligent eye--an eye to detect treachery, and defy danger."
"On the contrary, a babe might deceive him."
"He has been educated in too hard a school to revel in such ignorance, Moncton."
"Hold your tongue, Dinah, and give me the light. Remember how you were deceived in his cousin Philip."
Mr. Moncton"s hand was on the lock of the door: an almost irresistible impulse urged me to spring from the bed and draw the bolt. On second thoughts, however, I determined to feign sleep, and watch all that pa.s.sed.
Resistance on my part would have been utterly useless, and I was anxious to find out if possible what connexion existed between my uncle, George Harrison, and this strange woman.
All this darted through my mind on the instant; the rays of the candle flashed upon the opposite wall; and my uncle, followed by his odious-looking companion, entered the room.
My intention of watching all their movements was completely frustrated by Mr. Moncton, who, advancing with cautious steps to my bed-side, held up the light in such a manner as not only to reveal my face, but the att.i.tude in which I lay.
"Is he sleeping?" he whispered to his companion.
"He breathes like one in a profound slumber," was the reply. ""Tis a fine lad. How much he resembles Sir Alexander."
"His father, rather," sneered Moncton. "He"s a second edition of Ned; but has got more brains. Thanks to his grandfather, Geoffrey, and his own mother, who was a beautiful, talented creature. Stand by the bed, Dinah, and keep watch over him while I light that lamp which he has left on the window-sill, and search for the papers."
The old woman took the light from Mr. Moncton"s hand, and his station beside my bed. My too lively imagination pictured the witch-like face, with its dark, snaky eyes, bending over me, and I found it impossible to maintain, with any appearance of reality, the composure I had a.s.sumed. In order to conceal the excited state of my mind, and to convince her of the certainty of my pretended slumber, I threw out my arms, and began to toss and turn, and mutter in my sleep, putting on all the contortions which generally convulse the countenance of persons while writhing under the influence of some terrible dream. A state of perfect quiescence might have aroused suspicion; the noise I made completely lulled theirs to sleep.
Meanwhile my uncle had unlocked the chest, and I heard him toss the papers it contained, upon the floor; while, from time to time, he gave utterance to expressions indicative of vexation and disappointment.
After examining the contents of the box thoroughly, and returning the parchments to their original place, he said in a mortified tone:
"The papers are not here. How they have been abstracted I cannot imagine, as I always keep the key in a private drawer of my cabinet, which is known only to myself."
"Did you place them there yourself?" demanded the old woman, in a hurried whisper.
"No, but Walters, in whom I placed the most implicit confidence, a.s.sured me that he placed them here with his own hands. He may, however, have destroyed them, and antic.i.p.ated my wishes."
"And you, with all your caution," sneered Dinah North, "could trust an affair of such importance to another."
"He was my creature, sworn to secrecy, and bought with my money, whose interest was to serve, not to betray me."
"A person who is capable of receiving a bribe to perform a base action, Moncton, is never to be trusted, especially a low-born fellow, like Walters; and where," she continued, anxiously, "is this man to be found?"
"He left twelve years ago for America, and took out with him, Michael Alzure, my brother"s old servant, and Mary Earl, the boy"s nurse, who were the only witnesses to the marriage. I wanted him to take the boy himself, and adopt him into his own family, which would have saved us all further trouble, but this to my surprise he positively refused to do."
"To what part of America did he emigrate?"
"First to Boston, where he remained for three years. He then removed to Philadelphia from the latter place. I twice received letters from him.
He had been successful in business, and talked of buying land in the western States; for the last six years I have never heard of him or from him. It is more than probable that he is long since dead."
"People whom you wish out of the way, never die when you want them,"
said Dinah, with her peculiar sneering laugh. "But I think you told me that the--" I could not catch the word which she breathed into the ear of Mr. Moncton--"had been destroyed."
"Yes--yes. I burnt it with my own hand; this was the only doc.u.ment of any consequence, and it is a hundred chances to one, that he ever recovers it, or meets with the people who could prove his ident.i.ty."
My uncle rose from his knees and locked the iron chest, then, extinguishing my lamp, he and the old woman left the room.
The sound of their retreating footsteps had scarcely died away, when, in spite of my wish to keep awake, I dropped off into a profound sleep, and did not again unclose my eyes until it was time to dress for breakfast.
CHAPTER XI.
MY FIRST LOVE.
I found my uncle sipping his coffee, as if nothing of importance had occurred during the night, to disturb his slumbers. I took my seat at the table in silence. My heart was full to bursting, and I dared not trust my voice, to offer him the common salutations of the morning.
My face, I have no doubt, betrayed the agitation which I endeavoured to conceal.
"You are late this morning, Geoffrey."
"Yes, Sir--I pa.s.sed a very restless night, and the result is a bad headache."
"How did that happen?" surveying me attentively, with his clear, glittering eyes.
"I was hara.s.sed by frightful dreams, and only awoke from one fit of nightmare to fall into a worse."
"Are you often troubled with bad dreams?" said he, without removing his powerful gaze from my pale face.
"Not often with such as disturbed me last night."
I detected my uncle"s drift in using this species of cross-questioning, and I determined to increase his uneasiness without betraying my own.
"I wish, uncle, I had never seen that old woman who visited the office yesterday; she haunted me all night like my evil genius. Sir Matthew Hale might have condemned her for a witch, with a safe conscience."