Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 20

"We are looking for the cottage of a woodman, named Gideon Rolfe."

"Never heard of it, sir. Do you know what part of the forest it is in?"

"No," said Stephen.

"Then it's like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay," retorted the man.

"However difficult, it must be found," said Stephen. "Drive on till you come to some road and follow that. It may lead us to some place where we can ascertain the direction of this man's cottage."

The man touched his horse with the whip, and still Una stood as if spell-bound, but, suddenly remembering that they were going in the opposite direction to the cottage, she was about to step forward, when she heard the bark of the dog, and almost as if he had sprung from the ground, Gideon Rolfe stood beside the carriage.

"Ah, here is someone," said Stephen. "Can you tell us the road to the cottage of Gideon Rolfe, the woodman, my man?" he asked.

"And what may be your business with him?"

"Why do you ask, my good man?" he replied.

"Because I am he you seek," said Gideon.

"You are Gideon Rolfe? How fortunate."

"That's as it may prove," said Gideon, coldly. "What is your business?"

"It is of a nature which, I think, had better be stated in a more convenient spot. Will you kindly permit me to enter your cottage and rest?"

Gideon looked searchingly into Stephen's face for a moment that seemed an age to Una, then nodded curtly, and said: "Follow me."

"Will you not ride?" asked Stephen, suavely.

But Gideon shook his head, and shouldering his ax, strode in front of the horse, and Stephen motioning to the driver, the carriage followed.

"A charming spot, Mr. Rolfe--charming! Rather shall I say, retired, if not solitary, however."

"Say what you please, sir," retorted Gideon, grimly and calmly. "I am waiting to learn the business you have with me."

"Mother," he said--"this lady is my mother, Mr. Rolfe--I think, I really think you would find it pleasant and refreshing on the bench which I observed outside the door."

With a little deprecatory air the lady got up and instantly left the cottage.

Then Stephen's manner changed. Leaning forward he fixed his gray eyes on Gideon Rolfe's stern face and said:

"Mr. Rolfe--my name is Davenant----"

Gideon started, and, with a muttered oath, raised the ax.

Stephen's face turned as white as his spotless collar, but he did not shrink.

"My name is Davenant," he repeated--"Stephen Davenant. I am afraid the name has some unpleasant a.s.sociations attached to it. I beg to remind you, if that should be the case, that those a.s.sociations are not connected with any fault of mine."

"Go on. Your name is Stephen Davenant?"

"Stephen Davenant. I am the nephew of Squire Davenant--Ralph Davenant.

The nephew of Ralph Davenant. I think you can guess my business with you."

"Do you come from--him?" he asked, hoa.r.s.ely.

"In a certain sense, yes," he said. "No doubt you have heard the sad news. My uncle is dead."

"Dead!" he repeated fiercely.

"Dead. My uncle died three days ago."

"Dead!" repeated Gideon, not in the tone of a man who had lost a friend, but in that of one who had lost an enemy.

"Yes," said Stephen, wiping his dry eyes with his spotless handkerchief; "my poor uncle died three days ago. I am afraid I have not broken it as softly as I should have done. You knew him well?"

"Yes, I knew him well."

"Then you know how great a loss the county has suffered in----"

"Spare your fine phrases. Come to your business with me. What brings you here?"

"I am here in consequence of a communication made to me by my uncle on his death-bed. Are you alone?"

Gideon waved his hand with pa.s.sionate impatience.

"That communication," Stephen continued, "concerns a certain young lady----"

"He told you?" he exclaimed.

"My uncle told me that I should find a young lady, in whose future he was greatly interested, in the charge of a certain person named Gideon Rolfe."

"Well, did he tell you any more than that?"

Stephen made a gesture in the negative.

"So," said Gideon Rolfe, "he left it to me to tell the story of his crime. You are Ralph Davenant's nephew. You are the nephew of a villain and a scoundrel!"

It was true, then, that the man knew nothing of the secret marriage of Ralph Davenant and Caroline Hatfield.

"A scoundrel and a villain!" repeated Gideon, leaning forward and clutching the table. "You say that he told you the story of his crime, glossed over and falsified. Hear it from me. Your uncle and I were schoolfellows and friends. I was the son of the schoolmaster at Hurst.

Your uncle left school to go to college. I remained at Hurst in my father's house. I could have gone to college also, but I would not leave Hurst, for I was in love. I loved Caroline Hatfield. She was the daughter of the gamekeeper on the Hurst estate, and we were to be married. Two months before the day fixed for our marriage your uncle, my friend--my friend!--came home to spend the vacation. We were friends still, and I--cursed fool that I was--took him to the gamekeeper's lodge to introduce him to my sweetheart. Six weeks afterward he and she had fled."

Stephen watched him closely, his heart beating wildly.

"They had fled," continued Gideon, in a broken voice. "My life was ended on the day they brought me the news. I left Hurst Leigh and came here. A year later she came back to me--came back to me to die. She died and left me----. She left me her child. I--I loved her still and swore to protect that child, and I have done so. There is my story. What have you to say?"

"It is terrible, terrible!" he exclaimed.