The Pagan's Cup

"Very good, Raston. You can do what you like. I am greatly obliged to you for the trouble you are taking."

"Indeed, it is only right, Leo," protested the curate. "I begin to see that you have been wronged. I may not be right in my surmise about your being the son of Kilspindie. But I am sure that I am correct in saying you are not the son of that scoundrel. Now, go back to Colester, hold your tongue, and wait till I come back on Saturday."

"I'll do as you wish," said Leo, sadly; "but indeed I have no hope."

"I have," said the curate, emphatically, and the conversation ended.

The next day Raston departed by the steamer to London, via Worthing, and Leo returned to his old quarters at the Colester Arms. His meeting with the curate had done him good, and although he did not adhere to Raston's theory about his noble paternity, yet he felt more cheerful and hopeful. He was particular as to his toilet, which, in his despair, he had rather neglected of late, and went to the Vicarage. Sybil was away with Pearl on the moor, the servant said. Leo would have followed, but Mr Tempest caught sight of him, and insisted that he should enter and be introduced to Lord Kilspindie. Leo willingly obeyed, as he was anxious to see his supposed father according to Raston. He could not help smiling when he was presented.

Kilspindie was taken by that smile. He saw before him a singularly splendid young man, with a graceful, slender figure and a handsome face, but best of all was the kindly look in the eyes. Kilspindie shook hands heartily with Leo, and sighed as he thought that his lost son might be just such another. Had he known of what Raston and the young man before him had talked about on the previous night, he might have been more particular in his inquiries, and might perchance have been brought to think as Raston did. However, he knew nothing, Leo said nothing, and the conversation resolved itself into the common-place. Tempest was kind to Leo, Kilspindie was friendly, and the three got on very well.

Meanwhile, Sybil and Pearl were walking across the moor. After a time they stopped at the turf altar erected by the mad girl, and she explained to her companion the reason she had made such a place.

"The Master is angry with poor Pearl now," she said sadly, "and He has taken the sacred cup from her. She is not good enough to keep it. But when the Master is pleased, and will save Pearl from the Pit" – she shuddered – "He will place the cup on this altar, and Pearl will bring it back to the chapel. Then she will be saved and happy."

"But, Pearl, you must not think of God in this way. He is your Father, and He loves you."

"He did love Pearl, but He made her ill, and Mrs Jeal told Pearl that she was wicked and in danger of the Worm."

"Pearl! Pearl! Do not believe that. Mrs Jeal is wrong. God loves you!"

"Why, then, did He make Pearl ill if He loved her? And why did He take away the Holy Grail which Pearl watched over so carefully?"

"He did not take it away," said Sybil, hardly knowing what reply to make.

"Yes, He did," persisted the poor, mad creature. "Pearl was not good enough to keep it. But when she is good the cup will come down to earth again."

"Do you think it is in heaven now, Pearl?"

"I am sure it is. No roof here to stop the cup from floating up to the New Jerusalem. In the chapel it would have stayed, because the bad roof kept it down, but here it went up and up and up to the sky."

Sybil did not know what to make of this talk. She soothed the girl as much as she could and tried to bring her back to that old happy state of mind which Mrs Jeal had destroyed with her gloomy Calvinistic creed. But it was all of no use. Only the restoration of the cup would make Pearl believe that she was good again. However, Sybil induced her to talk of other things, of birds and flowers, and the poor creature was in a quieter state of mind when Sybil brought her back to the cottage.

"I go every morning to the altar," said Pearl, as she went inside. "The cup will come back when the Master is sorry for Pearl."

At this moment Mrs Jeal pulled her into the house and scolded her for being away. When she saw Sybil she became more civil, but still behaved in a covertly insolent manner. Sybil grew angry.

"You have behaved very wickedly in putting these ideas into Pearl's head, Mrs Jeal," she said severely. "The poor creature is not responsible. She does not understand."

"She understands more than you give her credit for, miss," retorted Mrs Jeal, coolly, "and she is not fit to be left alone. But when I go away I shall put her in an asylum."

"Indeed, you will do nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Tempest, indignantly. "The poor thing would die. Liberty is all in all to her. When are you going away?"

"I go with Sir Frank Hale, miss. I am going to be the maid of his sister."

"I heard Sir Frank was leaving Colester," said Sybil, coldly, "and I think it is the best thing he can do. When does he go, Mrs Jeal?"

"In a week, miss. I have got a good situation, miss, and I do not want to be burdened with Pearl. She must go to an asylum."

"No, no! I shall take charge of her myself," said Sybil. "You leave her to me, Mrs Jeal, and I'll look after her."

"Well, I might, miss; I'll see." Then, after a pause, Mrs Jeal asked, "About that gentleman at your place, miss – will he stay long?"

"Only till the end of the week. I suppose you mean Lord Kilspindie?"

Mrs Jeal's wicked eyes blazed. "Yes, I mean him," she said, and gave an unpleasant laugh. "Oh! so he goes at the end of the week! Well, miss, before I take up my situation with Miss Hale, I'll come and see you about Pearl. If you could take her I should be glad, but you'll find her a nuisance."

"I don't think so," said Sybil, coldly. "When will you call?"

"After the departure of Lord Kilspindie," said Mrs Jeal, with another wicked look, and went into the house. Sybil departed, wondering why the woman had asked about Lord Kilspindie, and why she seemed afraid to meet him. Had she been clever enough, she might have guessed the truth. As it was the matter passed out of her mind.

After this there were some very pleasant evenings at the Vicarage. Leo felt almost happy, in spite of his troubles. He could not as yet bring himself to tell Sybil that he could never marry her. Besides, he was hoping against hope that Raston would bring back some good news from London. Not, indeed, that he (Leo Haverleigh) was the lost son of Lord Kilspindie – that such good fortune should be his never entered Leo's head – but that Pratt was not his father. Leo felt that he would rather be proved to be illegitimate, as Mrs Gabriel had told the vicar he was, than have such a father as the criminal, Pratt. Yet, at times he felt sorry for the man. It was certain that he had in him some good qualities. But whenever Leo thought of him as his father, he became enraged against him. The thing was too horrible.

Lord Kilspindie took wonderfully to Leo, and this the vicar was pleased to see. Owing to Leo's want of an honest name, he could not bring himself to consent to the marriage, so he hoped that the Scotch lord might take a fancy to the young man and carry him off. Thus Sybil would be safe, and Leo would be provided for. Mr Tempest had evidently forgotten his own youth, or he would have remembered that loving hearts are not so easily severed. Leo and Sybil loved one another too well for aught to come between them.

On Saturday night Raston returned. It was so late that Leo had not expected him, so they did not meet until the next morning. Then it was on the way to church.

"Well," Leo asked eagerly, "and what does my – what does Pratt say?"

"I'll tell you after service," said Raston, hastily. "At present I can't think of these things."

"But one word, Raston," urged Leo. "Is Pratt my father?"

"No," replied the curate, emphatically, "he is not." And before Leo could ask another question he ran off. Filled with joy at the intelligence, but much bewildered, Leo went to church to offer up thanks.

Kilspindie was also in church, and with Sybil, in the vicar's pew. Mr Tempest allowed Raston to preach, as had been arranged, and took a very minor part in the service. Indeed, he did little else but read the lessons. The church was filled, as everyone was anxious to see Lord Kilspindie. Mrs Bathurst was there, wondering if his lordship could be induced to marry Peggy. She quite forgot that she had promised her daughter's hand to the curate, and was already scheming to get at the old nobleman. That he was old did not matter to Mrs Bathurst. She would have sold her daughter to anyone, provided the match was a good one. And, curious to say, she would have considered that she had done her duty as a mother. Her moral nature was decidedly warped.

The service was almost over, and the church-wardens were handing round the bags for the collection when a sweet voice was heard singing in the distance. Everyone recognised the voice – it was Pearl's – and the vicar, kneeling at the communion table, looked rather disturbed. He knew the eccentric ways of the girl, and he feared lest she might come in and distract the attention of the congregation. And his fears were fulfilled – Pearl, still singing, entered the church. The scandalised church-wardens would have kept her out, but that she bore something which made them open their eyes. The congregation also became aware of Pearl's burden, and a gasp of astonishment went round. Still singing some wild, vague melody, the mad girl walked slowly up the aisle, bearing the sacred cup.

Lord Kilspindie did not see her until she was almost at the chancel steps. He then gave a cry of astonishment, in spite of the building and the occasion. Surely he might have been pardoned, for the fairy cup upon which depended the fortunes of the Grants glittered before his eyes. There was a dead silence. Everyone was too astonished to speak or move. The vicar himself was staring from the communion table at this miracle. But Raston, who had come down to receive the collection, stood quietly waiting till the girl reached him. She came up singing, placed the great gold cup in his hand and fell on her knees.

"The Master has forgiven Pearl," she said in a voice which could be heard all over the church. "She is saved and the cup will be here to watch over for ever and ever. Amen. Amen." And she bowed her face in her hands.

Raston paused for a moment in hesitation and glanced at the vicar, then at Lord Kilspindie. Then he made up his mind, and walking up to the altar, placed the cup in its old position. And there it glittered, all gold and gems, with the sunlight striking down on it, until it became almost too glorious to look upon. Lord Kilspindie stared, with tears in his eyes. The cup would be his again and he would soon have his son. He never doubted but that the restoration of the one was the prelude to the discovery of the other.

Raston pronounced the Benediction and the organ broke forth into jubilant music. Shortly the congregation streamed out. Everyone was much excited. The old nobleman came out with Sybil, and they waited at the porch for the vicar. Leo also was with them.

Suddenly a woman broke through the crowd in the churchyard. It was Mrs Jeal, and she was seeking Pearl. In her haste she never noticed Lord Kilspindie, until she almost ran into his arms. Suddenly he saw her face, started, and made one stride forward to clutch her by the arm.

"The cup and then the heir!" he said loudly, while all looked on amazed. "Janet Grant, where is my son, Lord Morven!"

CHAPTER XIX

A STORY OF THE PAST

Half-an-hour later and Lord Kilspindie was back in the Vicarage library with Janet Grant, or, as it may be more convenient to call her, Mrs Jeal. Mr Tempest was present, together with Leo and Mr Raston, and they had assembled to force the truth out of Mrs Jeal. This was no easy matter. All the evil in the woman was uppermost, and with her shawl wrapped round her tightly she sat there and defied them all.

"You may burn me, you may put me in prison," said Mrs Jeal, savagely, "but I won't open my mouth."