In Venice he met his brother, Lord Surbiton, who happened to have
come over from Corfu in his yacht. The two young men spent a delightful
fortnight together. In the morning they rode on the Lido, or glided up and down
the green canals in their long black gondola; in the afternoon they usually
entertained visitors on the yacht; and in the evening they dined at Florian's,
and smoked innumerable cigarettes on the Piazza. Yet somehow Lord Arthur was
not happy. Every day he studied the obituary column in the Times, expecting to see a notice of
Lady Clementina's death, but every day he was disappointed. He began to be
afraid that some accident had happened to her, and often regretted that he had
prevented her taking the aconitine when she had been so anxious to try its
effect. Sybil's letters, too, though full of love, and trust, and tenderness,
were often very sad in their tone, and sometimes he used to think that he was
parted from her for ever.
After a fortnight Lord Surbiton got
bored with Venice, and determined to run down the coast to Ravenna, as he heard
that there was some capital cock-shooting in the Pinetum. Lord Arthur, at
first, refused absolutely to come, but Surbiton, of whom he was extremely fond,
finally persuaded him that if he stayed at Danielli's by himself he would be
moped to death, and on the morning of the 15th they started, with a strong
nor'-east wind blowing, and a rather sloppy sea. The sport was excellent, and
the free, open-air life brought the colour back to Lord Arthur's cheeks, but
about the 22nd he became anxious about Lady Clementina, and, in spite of
Surbiton's remonstrances, came back to Venice by train.
As he stepped out of his gondola on to
the hotel steps, the proprietor came forward to meet him with a sheaf of
telegrams. Lord Arthur snatched them out of his hand, and tore them open.
Everything had been successful. Lady Clementina had died quite suddenly on the
night of the 17th!
His first thought was for Sybil, and he sent her off a telegram
announcing his immediate return to London. He then ordered his valet to pack
his things for the night mail, sent his gondoliers about live times their
proper fare, and ran up to his sitting-room with a light step and a buoyant
heart. There he found three letters waiting for him. One was from Sybil
herself, full of sympathy and condolence. The others were from his mother, and
from Lady Clementina's solicitor. It seemed that the old lady had dined with
the Duchess that very night, had delighted every one by her wit and esprit, but had gone home somewhat
early, complaining of heartburn. In the morning she was found dead in her bed,
having apparently suffered no pain. Sir Mathew Reid had been sent for at once,
but, of course, there was nothing to be done, and she was to be buried on the
22nd at Beauchamp Chalcote. A few days before she died she had made her will,
and left Lord Arthur her little house in Curzon Street, and all her furniture,
personal effects, and pictures, with the exception of her collection of
miniatures, which was to go to her sister, Lady Margaret Rufford and her
amethyst necklace, which Sybil Merton was to have. The property was not of much
value; but Mr. Mansfield the solicitor was extremely anxious for Lord Arthur to
return at once, if possible, as there were a great many bills to be paid, and
Lady Clementina had never kept any regular accounts.
Lord Arthur was very much touched by
Lady Clementina's kind remembrance of him, and felt that Mr. Podgers had a great
deal to answer for. His love of Sybil, however, dominated every other emotion,
and the consciousness that he had done his duty gave him peace and comfort.
When he arrived at Charing Cross, he felt perfectly happy.
The Mertons received him very kindly,
Sybil made him promise that he would never again allow anything to come between
them, and the marriage was fixed for the 7th June. Life seemed to him once more
bright and beautiful, and all his old gladness came back to him again.
One day, however, as he was going over
the house in Curzon Street, in company with Lady Clementina's solicitor and
Sybil herself, burning packages of faded letters, and turning out drawers of
odd rubbish, the young girl suddenly gave a little cry of delight.
`What have you found, Sybil?' said Lord
Arthur, looking up from his work, and smiling.
`This lovely little silver bonbonnière,
Arthur. Isn't it quaint and Dutch? Do give it to me! I know amethysts won't
become me till I am over eighty.'
It was the box that had held the aconitine.
Lord Arthur started, and a faint blush
came into his cheek. He had almost entirely forgotten what he had done, and it
seemed to him a curious coincidence that Sybil, for whose sake he had gone
through all that terrible anxiety, should have been the first to remind him of
it.
`Of course you can have it, Sybil. I
gave it to poor Lady Clem myself.'
`Oh! thank you, Arthur; and may I have
the bonbon too? I had no notion that Lady Clementina liked sweets. I thought
she was far too intellectual.'
Lard Arthur grew deadly pale, and a
horrible idea crossed his mind.
`Bonbon, Sybil? What do you mean?' he
said in a slow, hoarse voice.
`There is one in it, that is all. It
looks quite old and dusty, and I have not the slightest intention of eating it.
What is the matter, Arthur? How white you look!'
Lord Arthur rushed across the room, and
seized the box. Inside it was the amber-coloured capsule, with its
poison-bubble. Lady Clementina had died a natural death after all!
The shock of the discovery was almost
too much for him. He flung the capsule into the lire, and sank on the sofa with
a cry of despair.
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