Fast as the Wind: A Novel

He kissed her again as he held her in his arms.

"This is my revenge, Lenise," he said.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN ASTONISHING COMMUNICATION

AT Haverton everything shaped well. Picton asked Rita to be his wife and she consented. They were very happy, Dick rejoiced exceedingly, Captain Ben was pleased, Brack congratulated them in his quaint way before he returned to Torquay.

"I'll give you The Rascal for a wedding present," said Dick. "I hope he'll win the National for you."

"He will have a good chance," said Picton. "It is a very welcome gift."

"I think you and Rita will be happy," Dick said.

"We shall, and when she is mistress here there will be a delightful change for the better," said Picton.

"I hope there will be no collision between Rita and Mrs. Yeoman," laughed Dick.

"No fear of that. She is very fond of Rita; she told me so, said she was very pleased I was going to marry her."

"Then that's all right," said Dick.

He and his sister remained a week longer, then returned to Torwood; Rita and Picton were to be married from there early in the New Year.

Dr. Elroy came from Doncaster for a few days' shooting. Picton liked him, so did Captain Ben. The doctor was an excellent shot, and accounted for many brace of grouse; he also showed some knowledge of horses, which at once ensured Brant's good opinion.

It was during the doctor's stay Picton received a letter from his brother, containing an enclosure. Both astonished him immensely, and small wonder.

He read them carefully twice, and decided that Hector's wishes should be obeyed. These were to the effect that Picton should read them to Captain Ben, Sir Robert Raines, and any other persons he thought desirable should know the truth. Picton decided Dr. Elroy should join them when he read the letter. Sir Robert received a hasty summons to Haverton.

"Wonder what's in the wind now," he said.

"A trial I expect," said his wife.

"You and Mr. Woodridge think of nothing but horses."

"I have had a communication I wish you to hear," said Picton. "I have heard from my brother."

"Hector!" exclaimed Sir Robert.

"Yes. He is alive and well. He knows you are to be trusted; he wished you to hear all he has written. You will be surprised to learn William Rolfe is Hector."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Sir Robert. "Do you know, Picton, my boy, I thought he resembled him, but of course I had no idea he was Hector. It's wonderful; how did he get away?"

Picton gave him an account of Hector's escape and how he boarded the Sea-mew, and all that followed.

"The strangest part of the story is better told in his own words," said Picton. "I wish you, Captain Ben, and Dr. Elroy to hear it."

Sir Robert was lost in wonder at such strange happenings. When they were all seated in Picton's study he asked them to promise to keep everything secret, which they readily did, when he explained whom the communication was from.

Picton began Hector's letter, which, after a few preliminaries, read as follows: "You know how I escaped, and thanks to the good farmer on the moor, and with the aid of Brack, boarded the Sea-mew and got safely away. Then, taking the name of William Rolfe, I came to Haverton and no one knew me. I wish it to be thought that Hector Woodridge is dead, that I am William Rolfe, and shall always remain so, for reasons which I will explain, and which will cause you great astonishment. Something wonderful has happened since I left Haverton, something that surprises me even now, and which I can hardly understand, yet it is an accomplished fact, and I shall never regret it.

"I met Lenise Elroy at Doncaster station by appointment; we traveled alone in a reserved compartment. You have some idea of the vengeance I intended taking upon her, but you have no conception how terrible it was to be. I purposed carrying it out in the train, declaring to her who I was – she thought I was William Rolfe. I gradually led the conversation up to a point when I could relate to her how Hector Woodridge escaped and boarded the Sea-mew, and that he was alive and well, living under an assumed name. I posed as his best friend. She was amazed, and frightened, at the minute details I gave her, thought it uncanny. There was a dramatic moment when she explained what happened when Elroy was shot, in order to clear herself, offer an excuse for her conduct. She said Hector Woodridge pointed the revolver at Elroy and as he advanced, fired. Then I said, 'You pulled the trigger.' This, as you may imagine, was a knock-down blow for her; she almost fainted. She denied it, of course; it was a critical moment. Then I bade her look in my face, asked her if she recognized me. Gradually she did so; she fell on her knees, clasped my legs, sobbed as though her heart would break. She confessed all. She said I held the revolver pointed at Elroy, but she pulled my hand back, and it went off, killing him. I enclose a confession she has signed to this effect. It proves my innocence. I did not actually fire the shot, although I leveled the revolver at him, to frighten and keep him back. I had no intention of shooting him; as God is my judge, I did not wish to take his life. She acted on a sudden impulse; perhaps she wished to pull my hand down, thinking I intended shooting him, and, as my finger was on the trigger, it went off. It was all a terrible blunder, which she and I have suffered terribly for. You little know how she has suffered; she has told me and I believe her. What I suffered no one can imagine, but I believe I can learn to forget it under the new conditions of life I have mapped out.

"As she knelt at my feet sobbing, a strange revulsion of feeling swept over me. Before all this happened she acknowledged she loved me as William Rolfe, that she had done so from the first time we met.

"I looked down at her and spoke gently. She noticed the changed tone in my voice and raised her head. 'Hector!' she cried in strange surprise.

"Stooping down I raised her gently. I felt no desire for revenge; all my savage feelings were swept away. I loved her, loved Lenise Elroy, who had so deeply wronged me, with an undying love. I knew I had always loved her, even when in prison, and my feelings were bitterest against her. She saw something of this in my face. I kissed her and held her close to me. From that moment, Picton, I forgave all, she was very dear to me. No matter how she had sinned I knew she had always been mine. I remembered how she surrendered herself to me; I recognized that I had tempted her, as she had tempted me; that we were both guilty, that had I behaved as a man, and kept away from her, the tragedy which blighted so many lives would not have happened.

"We sat side by side and did not speak. The wonder of it all swept over us and held us silent. We looked into each other's eyes and read our thoughts. She was transfigured, a different woman, a new soul had entered her body, she was not the Lenise Elroy of old days. I felt all this; I was certain I could rely upon her. She spoke at last, and said she would write a confession which I could place in your hands to do as you wished with; she would abide the consequences. I have sent this to you, Picton, knowing you will never make it public, but hide it in some place until our deaths take place. You can read it to our old friend Sir Robert, and Captain Ben, and any one else you think ought to know, and that you can depend upon to keep silent. It is short, but true, and she has signed it.

"Perhaps the strangest news of all for you is that we are married, and are now Mr. and Mrs. Rolfe. I wished it to take place at once, and she was willing to do anything I asked.

"As Mr. and Mrs. William Rolfe, we sail for Melbourne in a fortnight, where I shall go up country and buy a small station somewhere. We intend to keep out of the world, to live for ourselves. Lenise wishes it, she says a lifelong devotion to me will only help to blot out the past. Of her love I am certain; she is not demonstrative, but I catch her sometimes unawares, and her face expresses her thoughts. Forgive her as I have, Picton, write her a kindly letter, tell her she has done right, wish her happiness in her new life. We shall not come to Haverton; it is better not.

"I won a large sum over Tearaway; I had a thousand pounds on her at a hundred to three. I do not want any more money. Keep the dear old place up; some day we may see it, but not for years – it may be never. I should like to see you, Sir Robert, and Captain Ben, if you will meet me in town, just to say farewell. I hope you will be happy with Rita; I am sure you will. At some future time you may tell her the tramp she treated so kindly on his way to Torquay was your brother Hector. I have Dick's coat she gave me; I shall always keep it as a treasured remembrance of a good woman's kindness and sympathy. Remember always that Hector Woodridge is dead, that William Rolfe lives, and is a settler in Australia. In that great country we shall be surrounded by new scenes, faces, and places; no one will know us; we shall live our lives peacefully until the end.

"The storm is over, Picton, and calm come at last. This is how I took my revenge. How strange are the workings of Providence, how sure is His eternal justice, how wonderful and mysterious His ordering of all things!"

Picton then read Lenise's confession, which exonerated Hector from blame. It was brief and to the point; she did not spare herself.

"I'll tell you what, Picton, Hector's a great man, an extraordinary man, he deserves the highest praise we can give him," said Sir Robert, and with this they all agreed.

"Remember, Hector is dead, William Rolfe lives," said Picton, and again they agreed to abide by this decision.

CHAPTER XXX

TEARAWAY'S PROGENY

IT was a quiet wedding and Dick gave his sister away. A few friends met at Torwood to bid them speed on their honeymoon, which was spent at Florence. On their return they went direct to Haverton, and Mrs. Woodridge settled down to her duties as mistress of the house, with Mrs. Yeoman as her trusty guide.

Rita was supremely happy; Picton told her Hector's story when they were in Florence.

"So I was right when I thought I recognized Mr. Rolfe as the man who asked me for help, or rather whom I assisted on his tramp to Torquay," she said.

"Yes, you were right," said Picton. "You made a greater hit than you were aware of."

Picton schooled The Rascal over stiff fences on Haverton Moor. A four-mile course had been specially mapped out by Brant during his absence in Italy, and the fences were as high as those on the National course.

"You'll find 'em formidable," said the trainer, "but if he's to jump the National course so much the better."

Picton soon found, as he had thought when he won on him at Torquay, that The Rascal was a great fencer. The ease with which he went over the biggest jump without a mistake proved this, and Brant grew enthusiastic about his chance. Rita was nervous when she saw Picton riding over these great jumps, but The Rascal seemed to fly them so easily she gained confidence and eventually became as keen about his winning the National as Picton himself.

Everything went well with his preparation; the horse was as sound as a bell, and under Brant's tuition became quiet and docile.

The Rascal liked Picton, he and his rider were on excellent terms, they knew exactly how they felt toward each other. A week before the Aintree meeting Dick Langford came to Haverton. He was surprised when he saw the improvement in The Rascal, grew enthusiastic as he watched Picton ride him over the big fences.

"I'd no idea he could jump like that!" exclaimed Dick.

"I had when I won on him at Torquay," said Picton.

"Do you think he's a chance in the National?" Dick said to the trainer.

"He has, Mr. Langford, a ripping chance. I can't pick out anything to beat him, and he's got such a nice weight, only ten stone; he'll gallop them all to a standstill. And as for fencing, he'll fly Beecher's Brook like a bird."

Neither Rita nor Picton, nor their many friends who saw the race, will ever forget that memorable Grand National. What an awful day it was! The March wind howled and whistled over the course, biting and stinging, cutting the face almost like a lash. Then sleet fell, followed by a whirling snowstorm, which had not abated when the horses went out. The course was heavy, dangerously slippery, but for all that not bad going. It was all against the top weights.

The Rascal lashed out as he felt the stinging half-frozen particles whipping his skin. He put back his ears, lowered his head, and took a lot of persuading before he faced the blast. Most of the horses protested in the same way.

Then the sun gleamed out, the snow ceased, and for a few minutes it was bright and clear.

They were off, twenty of them, and a glorious sight it was. Rita stood with Captain Ben, Sir Robert, and Dick. They had an excellent view of the course; had it been clearer they would have seen the whole race.

When the horses had gone a little over a mile, snow fell again, the sun disappeared in the gloom, the light became bad.

Picton could hardly see the jumps, so blinding was the storm; but The Rascal saw them and despite slipping, and an occasional stumble, cleared them. Once he rapped hard; this roused him and for the remainder of the journey he did not make a mistake.

It was an extraordinary race. Horse after horse came down, until at the last two jumps only three were left in. Another fell, then Mortimer came down at the last obstacle, and The Rascal came in alone, being the only one to finish the course. It was a day of triumph for Picton and his friends. A big stake was landed, a big double, the St. Leger and the Grand National won for the famous saffron colors.

The Rascal and Tearaway were the pets of the Haverton stable. The former won at Manchester and Sandown, Picton riding him. The filly won the Great Metropolitan and the Ascot Gold Cup, following this up with a veritable triumph in the Cesarewitch, carrying nine stone. She then retired to the stud, and was mated with her old opponent Tristram, to the huge delight of Sir Robert, who prophesied the result would be a remarkable equine prodigy. The Rascal ran in the National again and fell, the only time he came down in a long and wonderful career; Picton had a nasty spill and was brought back in the ambulance. This was a shock to Rita; she longed for the time when he would give up steeplechase riding, but she never hinted at it, she knew how passionately fond of it he was. The Rascal won the great 'Chase again the following year, thus setting the seal on his fame by carrying top weight to victory.

By this time Picton and Rita had two sons; this was followed in due course by two girls; so they were supremely happy and all went swimmingly at Haverton. They had troops of friends. Picton became Master of the Haverton Hounds, and his popularity was unbounded. Rita was regarded as a ministering angel when she went abroad, scattering good things around in the depth of winter, and all the poor blessed her name.

Brack retired from active service, but had half a dozen boats and was a popular favorite at Torquay. Picton never forgot him at Christmas, or the farmer on the moor, who had helped Hector to escape.

Carl Hackler often chaffed Brack about the escaped prisoner and said he was not quite sure yet whether he had not smuggled him on board the Sea-mew.

Brack, however, was as close as an oyster, and Carl got no satisfaction in this direction.

Far away across the ocean, in Australia, about fifty miles from Ballarat in Victoria, Hector and his wife settled down, as Mr. and Mrs. Rolfe, on a small station with a picturesque homestead and excellent paddocks surrounding. They were happy, but there was one shadow hanging over their lives which had not yet lifted. They could not forget; it was impossible. They never alluded to it, but they knew it was there. Still, they were contented and made friends in the new land. They were prosperous. Hector took kindly to the life. He worked; his hands all liked him. He had a fine herd of cattle, a hundred good horses, sheep on a large run he had just taken over, in addition to Willaura, his homestead.

Lenise had her share in the stock: she owned a few horses, a couple of Alderney cows, and a large number of poultry of various breeds with which she took prizes, and of which she was very proud. After ten years came the crowning of her life. She had a son, and in bearing him she almost lost her life. Never till he felt her slipping away from him had Hector known how much he loved her. When she recovered, after a long illness, she said to him:

"I feel we are forgiven. Our child has lifted the shadow from our lives. We must think of the past no more; we must live for him and the future."

Picton received frequent letters from his brother, and answered them. In one he wrote to Hector that it was evident he never intended returning to England, and that the only chance of seeing him again was to go out to Australia. "Rita says she would like the trip, and it would do us both good. Captain Ben is a trustworthy friend to leave in charge of Haverton, so don't be surprised if some day we arrive at Willaura."

"Do you think she would like me?" Lenise asked her husband.

"Yes; no one could help liking you," he replied.

"Do you ever regret marrying me?" she asked.

"That is a foolish question. You know I do not. Never ask me again," he said.

Hector sometimes went to Melbourne. On one of his visits he saw a broken-down man in Bourke Street and recognized him as Fletcher Denyer. He gave him a wide berth and did not mention it to his wife. He heard once or twice from Brack, who in one letter said: "Brother Bill is a free man again – I reckon you know what that means; the man who did it confessed on his death-bed. He looks after my boats. He's a good sort, is Bill. Mr. Picton never forgets me. He's a good sort too. So are you; so's everybody to me."

"Tearaway's stock are doing wonders," wrote Picton. "Her best are by Tristram, and Runaway is a champion. I think he will turn out the best she has had, and he is by Sir Robert's old favorite, and will probably be the last he will get, as he is very weak and ailing but hobbles about in his paddock. I am sending you out as a present a six-year-old horse by Tristram-Tearaway. He should make a splendid stallion. You can expect him landed in Melbourne in about eight weeks from now. We tried Runaway this morning and Brant says he is like his mother – as 'fast as the wind.'"

THE END

1

"Plant" amended to "Planet".

2

It appears that the word "that" has been omitted in the phrase "it was his money gave Tobasco the chance to marry her". Text was amended.

3

"wth" amended to "with" in "I had wrestled wth the brute".