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_ There are some events of which each circumstance and surrounding
detail seems to be graven on the memory in such fashion that we cannot
forget it, and so it is with the scene that I am about to describe. It
rises as clearly before my mind at this moment as thought it had
happened but yesterday.
It was in this very month something over twenty years ago that I,
Ludwig Horace Holly, was sitting one night in my rooms at Cambridge,
grinding away at some mathematical work, I forget what. I was to go up
for my fellowship within a week, and was expected by my tutor and my
college generally to distinguish myself. At last, wearied out, I flung
my book down, and, going to the mantelpiece, took down a pipe and
filled it. There was a candle burning on the mantelpiece, and a long,
narrow glass at the back of it; and as I was in the act of lighting
the pipe I caught sight of my own countenance in the glass, and paused
to reflect. The lighted match burnt away till it scorched my fingers,
forcing me to drop it; but still I stood and stared at myself in the
glass, and reflected.
"Well," I said aloud, at last, "it is to be hoped that I shall be able
to do something with the inside of my head, for I shall certainly
never do anything by the help of the outside."
This remark will doubtless strike anybody who reads it as being
slightly obscure, but I was in reality alluding to my physical
deficiencies. Most men of twenty-two are endowed at any rate with some
share of the comeliness of youth, but to me even this was denied.
Short, thick-set, and deep-chested almost to deformity, with long
sinewy arms, heavy features, deep-set grey eyes, a low brow half
overgrown with a mop of thick black hair, like a deserted clearing on
which the forest had once more begun to encroach; such was my
appearance nearly a quarter of a century ago, and such, with some
modification, it is to this day. Like Cain, I was branded--branded by
Nature with the stamp of abnormal ugliness, as I was gifted by Nature
with iron and abnormal strength and considerable intellectual powers.
So ugly was I that the spruce young men of my College, though they
were proud enough of my feats of endurance and physical prowess, did
not even care to be seen walking with me. Was it wonderful that I was
misanthropic and sullen? Was it wonderful that I brooded and worked
alone, and had no friends--at least, only one? I was set apart by
Nature to live alone, and draw comfort from her breast, and hers only.
Women hated the sight of me. Only a week before I had heard one call
me a "monster" when she thought I was out of hearing, and say that I
had converted her to the monkey theory. Once, indeed, a woman
pretended to care for me, and I lavished all the pent-up affection of
my nature upon her. Then money that was to have come to me went
elsewhere, and she discarded me. I pleaded with her as I have never
pleaded with any living creature before or since, for I was caught by
her sweet face, and loved her; and in the end by way of answer she
took me to the glass, and stood side by side with me, and looked into
it.
"Now," she said, "if I am Beauty, who are you?" That was when I was
only twenty.
And so I stood and stared, and felt a sort of grim satisfaction in the
sense of my own loneliness; for I had neither father, nor mother, nor
brother; and as I did so there came a knock at my door.
I listened before I went to open it, for it was nearly twelve o'clock
at night, and I was in no mood to admit any stranger. I had but one
friend in the College, or, indeed, in the world--perhaps it was he.
Just then the person outside the door coughed, and I hastened to open
it, for I knew the cough.
A tall man of about thirty, with the remains of great personal beauty,
came hurrying in, staggering beneath the weight of a massive iron box
which he carried by a handle with his right hand. He placed the box
upon the table, and then fell into an awful fit of coughing. He
coughed and coughed till his face became quite purple, and at last he
sank into a chair and began to spit up blood. I poured out some whisky
into a tumbler, and gave it to him. He drank it, and seemed better;
though his better was very bad indeed.
"Why did you keep me standing there in the cold?" he asked pettishly.
"You know the draughts are death to me."
"I did not know who it was," I answered. "You are a late visitor."
"Yes; and I verily believe it is my last visit," he answered, with a
ghastly attempt at a smile. "I am done for, Holly. I am done for. I do
not believe that I shall see to-morrow."
"Nonsense!" I said. "Let me go for a doctor."
He waved me back imperiously with his hand. "It is sober sense; but I
want no doctors. I have studied medicine and I know all about it. No
doctors can help me. My last hour has come! For a year past I have
only lived by a miracle. Now listen to me as you have never listened
to anybody before; for you will not have the opportunity of getting me
to repeat my words. We have been friends for two years; now tell me
how much do you know about me?"
"I know that you are rich, and have had a fancy to come to College
long after the age that most men leave it. I know that you have been
married, and that your wife died; and that you have been the best,
indeed almost the only friend I ever had."
"Did you know that I have a son?"
"No."
"I have. He is five years old. He cost me his mother's life, and I
have never been able to bear to look upon his face in consequence.
Holly, if you will accept the trust, I am going to leave you that
boy's sole guardian."
I sprang almost out of my chair. "/Me!/" I said.
"Yes, you. I have not studied you for two years for nothing. I have
known for some time that I could not last, and since I realised the
fact I have been searching for some one to whom I could confide the
boy and this," and he tapped the iron box. "You are the man, Holly;
for, like a rugged tree, you are hard and sound at core. Listen; the
boy will be the only representative of one of the most ancient
families in the world, that is, so far as families can be traced. You
will laugh at me when I say it, but one day it will be proved to you
beyond a doubt, that my sixty-fifth or sixty-sixth lineal ancestor was
an Egyptian priest of Isis, though he was himself of Grecian
extraction, and was called Kallikrates.[*] His father was one of the
Greek mercenaries raised by Hak-Hor, a Mendesian Pharaoh of the
twenty-ninth dynasty, and his grandfather or great-grandfather, I
believe, was that very Kallikrates mentioned by Herodotus.[+] In or
about the year 339 before Christ, just at the time of the final fall
of the Pharaohs, this Kallikrates (the priest) broke his vows of
celibacy and fled from Egypt with a Princess of Royal blood who had
fallen in love with him, and was finally wrecked upon the coast of
Africa, somewhere, as I believe, in the neighbourhood of where Delagoa
Bay now is, or rather to the north of it, he and his wife being saved,
and all the remainder of their company destroyed in one way or
another. Here they endured great hardships, but were at last
entertained by the mighty Queen of a savage people, a white woman of
peculiar loveliness, who, under circumstances which I cannot enter
into, but which you will one day learn, if you live, from the contents
of the box, finally murdered my ancestor Kallikrates. His wife,
however, escaped, how, I know not, to Athens, bearing a child with
her, whom she named Tisisthenes, or the Mighty Avenger. Five hundred
years or more afterwards, the family migrated to Rome under
circumstances of which no trace remains, and here, probably with the
idea of preserving the idea of vengeance which we find set out in the
name of Tisisthenes, they appear to have pretty regularly assumed the
cognomen of Vindex, or Avenger. Here, too, they remained for another
five centuries or more, till about 770 A.D., when Charlemagne invaded
Lombardy, where they were then settled, whereon the head of the family
seems to have attached himself to the great Emperor, and to have
returned with him across the Alps, and finally to have settled in
Brittany. Eight generations later his lineal representative crossed to
England in the reign of Edward the Confessor, and in the time of
William the Conqueror was advanced to great honour and power. From
that time to the present day I can trace my descent without a break.
Not that the Vinceys--for that was the final corruption of the name
after its bearers took root in English soil--have been particularly
distinguished--they never came much to the fore. Sometimes they were
soldiers, sometimes merchants, but on the whole they have preserved a
dead level of respectability, and a still deader level of mediocrity.
From the time of Charles II. till the beginning of the present century
they were merchants. About 1790 by grandfather made a considerable
fortune out of brewing, and retired. In 1821 he died, and my father
succeeded him, and dissipated most of the money. Ten years ago he died
also, leaving me a net income of about two thousand a year. Then it
was that I undertook an expedition in connection with /that/," and he
pointed to the iron chest, "which ended disastrously enough. On my way
back I travelled in the South of Europe, and finally reached Athens.
There I met my beloved wife, who might well also have been called the
'Beautiful,' like my old Greek ancestor. There I married her, and
there, a year afterwards, when my boy was born, she died."
[*] The Strong and Beautiful, or, more accurately, the Beautiful in
strength.
[+] The Kallikrates here referred to by my friend was a Spartan,
spoken of by Herodotus (Herod. ix. 72) as being remarkable for his
beauty. He fell at the glorious battle of Platæa (September 22,
B.C. 479), when the Lacedæmonians and Athenians under Pausanias
routed the Persians, putting nearly 300,000 of them to the sword.
The following is a translation of the passage, "For Kallikrates
died out of the battle, he came to the army the most beautiful man
of the Greeks of that day--not only of the Lacedæmonians
themselves, but of the other Greeks also. He when Pausanias was
sacrificing was wounded in the side by an arrow; and then they
fought, but on being carried off he regretted his death, and said
to Arimnestus, a Platæan, that he did not grieve at dying for
Greece, but at not having struck a blow, or, although he desired
so to do, performed any deed worthy of himself." This Kallikrates,
who appears to have been as brave as he was beautiful, is
subsequently mentioned by Herodotus as having been buried among
the {irenes} (young commanders), apart from the other Spartans and
the Helots.--L. H. H.
He paused a while, his head sunk upon his hand, and then continued--
"My marriage had diverted me from a project which I cannot enter into
now. I have no time, Holly--I have no time! One day, if you accept my
trust, you will learn all about it. After my wife's death I turned my
mind to it again. But first it was necessary, or, at least, I
conceived that it was necessary, that I should attain to a perfect
knowledge of Eastern dialects, especially Arabic. It was to facilitate
my studies that I came here. Very soon, however, my disease developed
itself, and now there is an end of me." And as though to emphasise his
words he burst into another terrible fit of coughing.
I gave him some more whisky, and after resting he went on--
"I have never seen my boy, Leo, since he was a tiny baby. I never
could bear to see him, but they tell me that he is a quick and
handsome child. In this envelope," and he produced a letter from his
pocket addressed to myself, "I have jotted down the course I wish
followed in the boy's education. It is a somewhat peculiar one. At any
rate, I could not entrust it to a stranger. Once more, will you
undertake it?"
"I must first know what I am to undertake," I answered.
"You are to undertake to have the boy, Leo, to live with you till he
is twenty-five years of age--not to send him to school, remember. On
his twenty-fifth birthday your guardianship will end, and you will
then, with the keys that I give you now" (and he placed them on the
table) "open the iron box, and let him see and read the contents, and
say whether or no he is willing to undertake the quest. There is no
obligation on him to do so. Now, as regards terms. My present income
is two thousand two hundred a year. Half of that income I have secured
to you by will for life, contingently on your undertaking the
guardianship--that is, one thousand a year remuneration to yourself,
for you will have to give up your life to it, and one hundred a year
to pay for the board of the boy. The rest is to accumulate till Leo is
twenty-five, so that there may be a sum in hand should he wish to
undertake the quest of which I spoke."
"And suppose I were to die?" I asked.
"Then the boy must become a ward of Chancery and take his chance. Only
be careful that the iron chest is passed on to him by your will.
Listen, Holly, don't refuse me. Believe me, this is to your advantage.
You are not fit to mix with the world--it would only embitter you. In
a few weeks you will become a Fellow of your College, and the income
that you will derive from that combined with what I have left you will
enable you to live a life of learned leisure, alternated with the
sport of which you are so fond, such as will exactly suit you."
He paused and looked at me anxiously, but I still hesitated. The
charge seemed so very strange.
"For my sake, Holly. We have been good friends, and I have no time to
make other arrangements."
"Very well," I said, "I will do it, provided there is nothing in this
paper to make me change my mind," and I touched the envelope he had
put upon the table by the keys.
"Thank you, Holly, thank you. There is nothing at all. Swear to me by
God that you will be a father to the boy, and follow my directions to
the letter."
"I swear it," I answered solemnly.
"Very well, remember that perhaps one day I shall ask for the account
of your oath, for though I am dead and forgotten, yet I shall live.
There is no such thing as death, Holly, only a change, and, as you may
perhaps learn in time to come, I believe that even that change could
under certain circumstances be indefinitely postponed," and again he
broke into one of his dreadful fits of coughing.
"There," he said, "I must go, you have the chest, and my will will be
found among my papers, under the authority of which the child will be
handed over to you. You will be well paid, Holly, and I know that you
are honest, but if you betray my trust, by Heaven, I will haunt you."
I said nothing, being, indeed, too bewildered to speak.
He held up the candle, and looked at his own face in the glass. It had
been a beautiful face, but disease had wrecked it. "Food for the
worms," he said. "Curious to think that in a few hours I shall be
stiff and cold--the journey done, the little game played out. Ah me,
Holly! life is not worth the trouble of life, except when one is in
love--at least, mine has not been; but the boy Leo's may be if he has
the courage and the faith. Good-bye, my friend!" and with a sudden
access of tenderness he flung his arm about me and kissed me on the
forehead, and then turned to go.
"Look here, Vincey," I said, "if you are as ill as you think, you had
better let me fetch a doctor."
"No, no," he said earnestly. "Promise me that you won't. I am going to
die, and, like a poisoned rat, I wish to die alone."
"I don't believe that you are going to do anything of the sort," I
answered. He smiled, and, with the word "Remember" on his lips, was
gone. As for myself, I sat down and rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had
been asleep. As this supposition would not bear investigation I gave
it up and began to think that Vincey must have been drinking. I knew
that he was, and had been, very ill, but still it seemed impossible
that he could be in such a condition as to be able to know for certain
that he would not outlive the night. Had he been so near dissolution
surely he would scarcely have been able to walk, and carry a heavy
iron box with him. The whole story, on reflection, seemed to me
utterly incredible, for I was not then old enough to be aware how many
things happen in this world that the common sense of the average man
would set down as so improbable as to be absolutely impossible. This
is a fact that I have only recently mastered. Was it likely that a man
would have a son five years of age whom he had never seen since he was
a tiny infant? No. Was it likely that he could foretell his own death
so accurately? No. Was it likely that he could trace his pedigree for
more than three centuries before Christ, or that he would suddenly
confide the absolute guardianship of his child, and leave half his
fortune, to a college friend? Most certainly not. Clearly Vincey was
either drunk or mad. That being so, what did it mean? and what was in
the sealed iron chest?
The whole thing baffled and puzzled me to such an extent that at last
I could stand it no longer, and determined to sleep over it. So I
jumped up, and having put the keys and the letter that Vincey had left
away into my despatch-box, and stowed the iron chest in a large
portmanteau, I turned in, and was soon fast asleep.
As it seemed to me, I had only been asleep for a few minutes when I
was awakened by somebody calling me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes; it
was broad daylight--eight o'clock, in fact.
"Why, what is the matter with you, John?" I asked of the gyp who
waited on Vincey and myself. "You look as though you had seen a
ghost!"
"Yes, sir, and so I have," he answered, "leastways I've seen a corpse,
which is worse. I've been in to call Mr. Vincey, as usual, and there
he lies stark and dead!" _
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