The Man Who Rose Again

A savage look flashed into his eyes, but he held himself under control.

"I wish you to go to Miss Castlemaine and tell her that I must see her."

"My orders, sir, was most – "

"Go and tell her," he said quietly, "that I must see her, and that I shall wait here until I do."

The look in his eyes frightened the old servant. Besides, for some time now, he had been led to look upon him as his future master.

"For God's sake, Mr. Leicester – " he said piteously.

"Go, or I will not be answerable for the consequences," he said, in the same quiet tones; "tell them that I will not take 'No' for an answer."

The servant looked helplessly, first at Leicester and then at Winfield. Finally he closed the door in their faces like one afraid.

"I'll do the best I can, sir," he said, "but you must not come in."

A few minutes later he came back again, and his face was almost as pale as that of the young man who had stood as still as a statue on the doorstep.

"If you please, sir, you are both to follow me," he said in a frightened whisper.

Leicester was perfectly calm now, but the calm was unnatural; his every feature was set and rigid, his face had a pallor that was deathly. He followed the man without a word. As for Winfield, he felt that the whole atmosphere of the place was charged with excitement, and he wondered why he was also asked to follow the servant.

With faltering steps the man led the way into the library. Leicester knew that this was John Castlemaine's favourite room, and that it was here he spent most of his time when he was at home. The servant opened the door, and then closed it again, noiselessly.

Olive Castlemaine and her father were both standing near the fireplace as the young men entered. The man's face was cold, and stern, and relentless. As for Olive, she gave evidence of a sleepless night. Her eyes were dry and hard, but her face, though pale, suggested no signs of weakness. She looked almost composed, except that her lips were compressed.

Leicester took a step towards her, but only a step. The look in her eyes forbade him. Still he remained calm.

"I am naturally come for – for an explanation," he said.

"I thought that my letter would have relieved me of that necessity," said John Castlemaine.

"I have received no letter."

"I sent one by hand this morning."

"I have not seen it."

Leicester knew by the look on Olive's face that something terrible had happened, and the look nerved him to expect anything.

"In my letter," said John Castlemaine, "I explained why no wedding could take place to-day, why from henceforth my doors must be closed to you."

"You did not say this last night."

"Much has happened since then."

"Nothing can have happened since then to justify such treatment as I have received."

"Perhaps not," replied John Castlemaine quietly, "but information concerning past events has reached me since last night which will justify any treatment."

Leicester's calm was beginning to leave him.

"Olive," he cried, "surely after what was said last night between us you will not – "

"You will kindly address whatever remarks you wish to make to me," interrupted John Castlemaine. "I do not wish my daughter to have any intercourse with you whatever."

"Then will you give me an explanation of – of this – fiasco," said Leicester. He still spoke quietly, but any one could detect the tone of anger that had come into his voice.

"Nothing in the shape of a fiasco exists," said the older man. "Personally, I do not imagine that any explanation is needed, but, for form's sake, I will make it. You were received into this house as a gentleman. I do not think that any of the servants, to say nothing of myself, have ever regarded you in any other light. I am an old-fashioned man, Mr. Leicester, and when I know that a man has acted as no gentleman could or would act, I simply forbid him my house, and I give my servants instructions accordingly."

"Since when have I ceased to have the right to be treated like a gentleman?" asked Leicester.

"Since I knew that you made my daughter the subject of a wager," replied John Castlemaine, with quiet scorn. "Since you wagered a hundred pounds that you would win her as your wife."

The blow had fallen; the blow which Leicester had feared. That which had haunted him for months had come to pass. The truth had leaked out, and both Olive Castlemaine and her father knew the worst. He knew it was no use making any denials, or urging any extenuating circumstances. There was enough of truth in the charge to justify Mr. Castlemaine's every word.

"I do not think I need to say more," went on John Castlemaine. "I see that you quite understand. You cannot wonder therefore that I have nullified all arrangements for – what we expected to take place to-day. That is all, I think. There is no need to prolong an interview which, whatever it is to you, is very painful to me."

But Leicester was not to be put off so easily. He felt that it was for him to confess everything, and then fight to the very last. Besides, he felt he had not been treated fairly. At least he should have been allowed to justify his position before having the door closed in his face.

"However much truth there may be in what you say," he said, speaking still quietly, "I think the right of explanation is due to me. Nay more, I think I might have been allowed to answer whatever charges were made against me before – before the church caretaker had his orders."

"I could not see how any man could desire to make explanations," said John Castlemaine. "Personally, I think I should have thought less badly of you if shame had kept you away. The information I have received was so exact, so convincing, so well authenticated, that there was no room for doubt. Your whole behaviour, your every visit has been an insult to my daughter."

"Insult?"

"Insult. I can use no milder term. Still, you mention explanation. If I gave you no chance to make it before annulling arrangements, I give it now. Much against my will, it is true; but I give it."

The words gave Leicester a ray of light. If this interview was against Mr. Castlemaine's will, then Olive must have influenced him. He turned towards her eagerly.

"You at least will hear me," he said; "you will understand what your father cannot."

"I think I told you to address your remarks to me," said John Castlemaine coldly; "my daughter wishes no further intercourse with you."

During their conversation Olive had remained standing by the fireplace, her face rigid, her eyes fixed on the window. Nevertheless, it was evident she had heard all that was said. At her father's words she aroused herself and said:

"No, let him say what he will; it will be interesting."

Leicester felt the scorn of her words. At that moment he felt that she regarded him as a creature beneath contempt. Still, he was fighting for life, nay, more than life.

"I will admit," he said, "that appearances are against me." Here he hesitated like a man who could not find words to express his thoughts. He looked around almost helplessly, but only silence followed his words.

"Who gave you this – this information?" he demanded.

"That is no concern of yours or mine at present," she replied, "seeing even you cannot deny the truth of what my father has repeated."

"There – are extenuating circumstances," he stammered.