A Secret Inheritance. B. L. Farjeon

to my disadvantage. You would be unable to understand that they are my slaves and have no power over me. All the dark thoughts they have suggested, all the temptings and instigations, will presently be slain by love, and will fall into a deep grave, to lie there for ever still and dead. I am as others are, human; my life, like the lives of other men, is imperfect. The purifying influence is at hand. I thank Thee, Creator of all the harmonies in the wondrous world, that Thou hast sent me Lauretta! Now, doctor, I am ready for you."

      He spoke upon the instant.

      "You and I have certain beliefs in common--as that we are not entirely creatures of chance. There is in all nature a design, down to its minutest point."

      "So far as creation goes," I answered, "so far as this or that is brought into existence. There ends the design."

      "Because the work is done," said Doctor Louis.

      "Not so," I said. "Rather is it because nature's part is done. Then the true work commences, and man is the master."

      "Nature can destroy."

      "So can man; and, of the two, he is the more powerful in destruction. His work also is of a higher quality, because of the intelligence which directs it. He can go on or turn back. Nature creates forces which, apart from their creator, produce certain results--some beautiful and harmonious, some frightful and destructive. For these results nature is only indirectly responsible; the forces she creates work independently to their own end. When a great storm is about to burst, it is not in nature's power to will that it shall dissolve into gentleness. Hence, nature, all powerful up to a given point, is powerless beyond it."

      "And man?"

      "Is all powerful. He wills and executes. He aspires to win, and he works to win. He desires, and he schemes to gratify his desire." I paused, and as Doctor Louis did not immediately reply, continued: "If there is not perfect accord between us in large contentious matters upon which the wisest scientists differ, that is no reason why there should not be between us a perfect friendship."

      "I am pleased to hear you say so; it means that you desire to retain my friendship."

      "I earnestly desire it."

      "And would make a sacrifice to retain it?"

      "Sacrifice of what?"

      "Of some wish that is dear to you," replied Doctor Louis.

      "That depends," I said. "In entering upon a serious obligation it behoves a man to be specific. Doctor, we are drifting from the subject which occupies your mind. Concentration would be of advantage to you in any information you wish to obtain from me."

      "The flower turns towards the sun," said Doctor Louis, after a pause, during which I knew that he was bringing himself back to the point he was aiming at, "and closes its leaves in the darkness. My view has been that man, though the highest in the scale, is not his own master; he is subject to the influences which affect lower grades of life. At the same time he has within him that with which no other form of life is gifted--discernment, and, as you have said, the power to advance or recede. It sometimes happens that an impulse, as noble as it is merciful, arrests his foot, and he says, 'No, I may bruise that flower,' and turns aside. You follow me?"

      "Yes--but you are still generalising. Question me more plainly upon what you desire to know."

      "You are a stranger among us?"

      "I was; I do not look upon myself as a stranger now. Here have I found peace and fitness. Do not forget that, out of your goodness and generosity, you have treated me with affection."

      "I do not forget it, and I pray that it may not lead to unhappiness."

      "It is also my prayer--though you must remember that one man often enjoys at another man's expense."

      "You have already told me something of yourself. Again I ask, what are you?"

      "An English gentleman."

      "Your father?"

      "He was the same."

      "Your mother?"

      "A lady."

      "Were you educated at a public school?"

      "No; my studies were conducted at home by private tutors. We lived a life of privacy, and did not mix with the world."

      "For any particular reason?"

      "For none that I am aware of. It suited my parents so to live; it suited me also. Since the death of my parents I have seen much of the world, and derived but small enjoyment from it until destiny led me to Nerac."

      "Destiny?"

      "It is the only word, doctor, by which I can express myself clearly."

      "During your illness you gave utterance to sentiments or ideas which impel me now to inquire whether, in the lives of either of your parents, there was that which would cause an honourable man to pause before he yields to a temptation which may draw an innocent being to destruction?"

      "I would perish rather than destroy the flower in my path."

      "You adopt my own figure of speech, but you do not answer my question--which proves that I have not complete power over you. Your sense of honour will not allow you to commit yourself to anything distinctly untruthful. Say there is that in your inner life which warns you that to touch would be to wither, would you stoop to gather the flower which it may be awaits your bidding?"

      A glow of ineffable delight warmed my heart. "Do you know," I asked, "that it awaits me?"

      "I know nothing absolutely. I am striving to perform a duty. An ordinarily wise man, foreseeing a storm, prepares for it; and when that storm threatens one who is dearer to him than life itself, he redoubles his precautions."

      "As you are doing."

      "As I am doing--though I am sadly conscious that my efforts may be vain."

      "You are not my enemy?"

      "On the contrary. I recognise in you noble qualities, but there is at the same time a mystery within you which troubles me.

      "May you not be in error there?"

      "It is possible. I speak from inward prompting, based upon observation and reflection."

      "Dear doctor," I said, with a sense of satisfaction at the conviction that I was successfully probing him, "if I thought that my touch would blast the flower you speak of, I would fly the spot, and carry my unhappiness with me, so that only I should be the sufferer. But no need exists. Nothing lies at my door of which I am ashamed. No man, so far as I am aware, is my enemy, and I am no man's. I have never committed an act to another's hurt. You speak of my inner life. Does not every human being live two lives, and is there not in every life something which man should keep to himself. Were we to walk unmasked, we should hate and loathe each other, and saints would be stoned to death. We are maculate, and it is given to no man to probe the mystery of existence. There are pretenders, and you and I agree upon an estimate of them. If in private intercourse we were absolutely frank in our confession of temptations, gross thoughts, and uncommitted sins, it would inspire horror. The joys of life are destroyed by seeking too far. We are here, with all our imperfections. The wisest and truest philosophy is to make the best of them and of surrounding circumstances. Therefore when I see before me a path which leads to human happiness, I should be mad to turn from it. Will you not now ask questions to which I can return explicit answers?"

      "You love?"

      "Yes."

      "Whom?"

      "Lauretta."

      "In honour?"

      "In perfect honour. So pure a being could inspire none but a pure passion."

      "You would make a sacrifice to render her happy?"

      "I can make her happy without a sacrifice."

      "But should the need arise?"

      "If I were convinced of it, I would sacrifice my life for her. It would be valueless to