The Malefactor [84]
me--marry!"
Wingrave smiled very faintly, otherwise his face was inscrutable.
"I might," he admitted calmly, "but I shall not. Do you consider me, Mr. Pengarth, to be a person in possession of his usual faculties?"
"Oh, most certainly--most certainly," the lawyer declared emphatically.
"Then please do not question my instructions any further. So far as regards the pecuniary part of it, I am a richer man than you have any idea of, Mr. Pengarth, and for the rest--sentiment unfortunately does not appeal to me. I choose to give the Tredowen estates away, to disappoint my next of kin. That is how you may regard the transaction. We will go into the house and complete this deed."
Wingrave rose slowly and walked with some difficulty up the gravel path. He ignored, however, his companion's timid offer of help, and led the way to the library. In a few minutes the document was signed and witnessed.
"I have ordered tea in the garden," Wingrave said, as the two servants left the room; "that is, unless you prefer any other sort of refreshment. I don't know much about the cellars, but there is some cabinet hock, I believe--"
Mr. Pengarth interposed.
"I am very much obliged," he said, "but I will not intrude upon you further. If you will allow me, I will ring the bell for my trap."
"You will do nothing of the sort," Wingrave answered testily. "You will stay here and talk to me."
"I will stay with pleasure if you desire it," the lawyer answered. "I had an idea that you preferred solitude."
"Then you were wrong," Wingrave answered. "I hate being alone."
They moved out together towards the garden. Tea was set out in a shady corner of the lawn.
"If you will forgive my remarking it," Mr. Pengarth said, "this seems rather an extraordinary place for you to come to if you really dislike solitude."
"I come to escape from an intolerable situation, and because I was ill," Wingrave said.
"You might have brought friends," the lawyer suggested.
"I have no friends," Wingrave answered.
"Some of the people in the neighborhood would be very glad--" Mr. Pengarth began.
"I do not wish to see them," Wingrave answered.
Mr. Pengarth took a peach, and held his tongue. Wingrave broke the silence which followed a little abruptly.
"Tell me, Mr. Pengarth," he said, "do I look like a man likely to fail in anything he sets out to accomplish?"
The lawyer shook his head vigorously.
"You do not," he declared.
"Nor do I feel like one," Wingrave said, "and yet my record since I commenced, shall I call it my second life, is one of complete failure! Nothing that I planned have I been able to accomplish. I look back through the months and through the years, and I see not a single purpose carried out, not a single scheme successful.
"Not quite so bad as that, I trust, Sir Wingrave," the lawyer protested.
"It is the precise truth," Wingrave affirmed drily. "I am losing confidence in myself."
"At least," the lawyer declared, "you have been the salvation of our dear Miss Juliet, if I may call her so. But for you, her life would have been ruined."
"Precisely, " Wingrave agreed. "But I forgot! You don't understand! I have saved her from heaven knows what! I am going to give her the home she loves! Benevolence, isn't it? And yet, if I had only the pluck, I might succeed even now--so far as she is concerned."
The lawyer took off his spectacles and rubbed them with his handkerchief. He was thoroughly bewildered.
"I might succeed," Wingrave repeated, leaning back in his chair, "if only--"
His face darkened. It seemed to Mr. Pengarth as he sipped his tea under the cool cedars, drawing in all their wonderful perfume with every puff of breeze, that he saw two men in the low invalid's chair before him. He saw the breath and desire of evil things struggling with some wonderful dream vainly seeking to realize itself.
"Some of us," the lawyer said timidly, "build our ideals too high up in the clouds, so that to reach them is very difficult. Nevertheless, the effort counts."
Wingrave laughed mockingly.
Wingrave smiled very faintly, otherwise his face was inscrutable.
"I might," he admitted calmly, "but I shall not. Do you consider me, Mr. Pengarth, to be a person in possession of his usual faculties?"
"Oh, most certainly--most certainly," the lawyer declared emphatically.
"Then please do not question my instructions any further. So far as regards the pecuniary part of it, I am a richer man than you have any idea of, Mr. Pengarth, and for the rest--sentiment unfortunately does not appeal to me. I choose to give the Tredowen estates away, to disappoint my next of kin. That is how you may regard the transaction. We will go into the house and complete this deed."
Wingrave rose slowly and walked with some difficulty up the gravel path. He ignored, however, his companion's timid offer of help, and led the way to the library. In a few minutes the document was signed and witnessed.
"I have ordered tea in the garden," Wingrave said, as the two servants left the room; "that is, unless you prefer any other sort of refreshment. I don't know much about the cellars, but there is some cabinet hock, I believe--"
Mr. Pengarth interposed.
"I am very much obliged," he said, "but I will not intrude upon you further. If you will allow me, I will ring the bell for my trap."
"You will do nothing of the sort," Wingrave answered testily. "You will stay here and talk to me."
"I will stay with pleasure if you desire it," the lawyer answered. "I had an idea that you preferred solitude."
"Then you were wrong," Wingrave answered. "I hate being alone."
They moved out together towards the garden. Tea was set out in a shady corner of the lawn.
"If you will forgive my remarking it," Mr. Pengarth said, "this seems rather an extraordinary place for you to come to if you really dislike solitude."
"I come to escape from an intolerable situation, and because I was ill," Wingrave said.
"You might have brought friends," the lawyer suggested.
"I have no friends," Wingrave answered.
"Some of the people in the neighborhood would be very glad--" Mr. Pengarth began.
"I do not wish to see them," Wingrave answered.
Mr. Pengarth took a peach, and held his tongue. Wingrave broke the silence which followed a little abruptly.
"Tell me, Mr. Pengarth," he said, "do I look like a man likely to fail in anything he sets out to accomplish?"
The lawyer shook his head vigorously.
"You do not," he declared.
"Nor do I feel like one," Wingrave said, "and yet my record since I commenced, shall I call it my second life, is one of complete failure! Nothing that I planned have I been able to accomplish. I look back through the months and through the years, and I see not a single purpose carried out, not a single scheme successful.
"Not quite so bad as that, I trust, Sir Wingrave," the lawyer protested.
"It is the precise truth," Wingrave affirmed drily. "I am losing confidence in myself."
"At least," the lawyer declared, "you have been the salvation of our dear Miss Juliet, if I may call her so. But for you, her life would have been ruined."
"Precisely, " Wingrave agreed. "But I forgot! You don't understand! I have saved her from heaven knows what! I am going to give her the home she loves! Benevolence, isn't it? And yet, if I had only the pluck, I might succeed even now--so far as she is concerned."
The lawyer took off his spectacles and rubbed them with his handkerchief. He was thoroughly bewildered.
"I might succeed," Wingrave repeated, leaning back in his chair, "if only--"
His face darkened. It seemed to Mr. Pengarth as he sipped his tea under the cool cedars, drawing in all their wonderful perfume with every puff of breeze, that he saw two men in the low invalid's chair before him. He saw the breath and desire of evil things struggling with some wonderful dream vainly seeking to realize itself.
"Some of us," the lawyer said timidly, "build our ideals too high up in the clouds, so that to reach them is very difficult. Nevertheless, the effort counts."
Wingrave laughed mockingly.